A/N: In this story, the treatment of Reid's concussion is based off of what we had to do when my dad and me had concussions. While my dad's concussion was much worse than mine, the doctors told my mom both times to wake us up every two to four hours. I understand some concussions are worse and require more attention, but let's just pretend that Reid's isn't. I just felt like saying that.
***Also, I don't know if it's intentional or not, but a great many more readers have read chapter ten and skipped chapter nine. It might be because I posted both chapters so close together, and you just didn't know. BUT if not, and you just decided that chapter nine wasn't worth reading, continue to rock your freedom to choose and exercise your right to rebel. I know someone who went from the fourth Harry Potter book straight to the sixth all because he didn't want to read about Umbridge in the fifth. Of course, I think he's crazy, but again his choice. Just needed to say that in case some of you did want to read it.
She's tempted to ask Rossi to turn on the radio. The silence is overwhelming, leaving her nothing to do but think. They had finished packing up and left for the hotel, leaving Hotch and Morgan to finish final discussions at the police station. The entire time, Reid hadn't spoken a word.
She's watching him now, not caring if JJ and Rossi notice—after all, they already know. He's too still for her comfort. She's used to the man constantly moving, unable to sit still. But now he sits unmoving. His left hand resting on his lap, palm up while he stares at the back of Rossi's seat, seeing something that isn't there. His face is calm and it reminds her of someone who had begun daydreaming in class.
She looks towards Rossi and notices him watching Reid too, his eyes dancing between the road and the rearview mirror. Everyone had noticed when Reid refused to get in the car on the passenger side, despite the fact that he was offered shotgun. He didn't say anything, just ignored JJ as she held the door open for him, choosing to walk around the far side of the SUV, and painfully climb into the vehicle's back seat.
Emily looks at the papers in her hands that the doctor had given her. They were told that his concussion was minor, the cracked and bruised ribs would probably be the most painful, but she's still worried. Every few minutes, he squeezes his eyes shut and looks as though he's confused before he settles back into the far off stare.
Rossi's driving slow, cautious after watching one man die in a car accident and two friends injured. The car behind them, growing impatient at the slow but steady pace, quickly speeds up and passes them, honking his horn as he drives by.
It's enough to snap Reid out of his reverie. Emily quickly places a hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention as he jumps, posture stiffening, and head turning to watch the car speed off. JJ and Rossi keep their eyes forward as Emily squeezes her hand. "Are you okay?"
He looks at her briefly, before directing his stare towards his lap and wiping his palm on his pants leg. "I'm fine," he whispers glancing at the pair of passengers in the front seat before adverting his eyes once again.
Sensing his frustration and embarrassment, she brings her hand back and catches Rossi's eye in the mirror, his look telling her to give him time.
Reid leans his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose as a wave of vertigo hits him. The fact that he can't sit still without filling as though he's falling is testing his already tried patience. When he was at the hospital being x-rayed, his vision had blurred every time he tried to focus on something. While his vision has since then improved, he still finds it disturbing that everything around him appears to be going at a different speed than it normally would—either time seems to stand still, or it passes him by without him knowing.
Like just now, he remembers getting into the car and shutting the door, but he has no recollection of the car actually moving, at least not until the sound of a car horn roused him from his thoughts. He had been thinking of the accident, while simultaneously trying to think of anything but the accident when the car passed by his window. Until that moment, he had been unable to recollect the actual wreck. He remembers turning onto the road, and then remembers seeing the steel pipe protruding from the seat in front of him. Everything in between had been a jumbled confusion until the car horn. Now, he distinctly remembers watching the front of the white truck emerge from the side street, and the brief panic at what was about to happen, before blackness momentarily set in.
He knows everyone in the car is worried about him. If he's honest with himself, he's worried, too. He knows the confusion, dizziness, and headache are due to the concussion. However, he also knows that he's not coping emotionally with the incident, and at the moment, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to think about what happened or what almost happened, and he definitely doesn't want to answer questions. Right now, he wants to go home.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Emily picking at her nails, consciously making an effort not to ask him how he is. He wants to grab her hand. Whether as a way of comforting her or as a way of comforting him, he isn't sure, but since his right arm is in a sling, he has no way of doing so, causing him to be even more irritated. He looks out the windows, trying to recognize the scenery to determine how close they are to the hotel, but the buildings and signs are passing by too fast for his concussed mind to keep up. He tightly closes his eyes again, trying to force away the nausea that arose by looking out the window. "How much longer."
JJ looks back at hearing his voice, happy to see he is no longer staring into space. "A few more blocks." She bites her lip, stopping herself from asking about his headache. She can tell its still bothering him, and part of her knows its worse than he's letting on. She wishes that she had spoken to Emily while at the station.
When the accident first happened and Rossi had slammed on the brakes, she had immediately run to the driver's side window, mostly because that was the only access she had while Rossi and two deputies worked on moving the other truck out of the way. She saw Morgan trying to push the airbag back down. The second she saw Wilkes dead in the passenger seat she had felt a sharp pang of sadness, another unnecessary death.
It wasn't until she looked in the back seat that she began to feel angry. Why anger, she didn't know, she still doesn't, but anger is what she felt. Reid wasn't moving, he was bleeding, and the pipe looked as though it had buried itself in his vest. She wanted to cry when she saw him start to move, and almost did when she saw him stand up.
The entire ordeal had only taken a few minutes, although it felt like longer. For a moment, she thought Reid was dead. After she realized he wasn't, she was still afraid that he could die. JJ hadn't even thought about what Emily would think, how she would feel, how it all affected her until she was standing there with them. She could tell her friend wanted to comfort Reid, to touch him and make sure he was okay.
JJ feels the anger start to build again. They both continue to act as though they're nothing more than friends, and it's really starting to piss her off. The only reason she hasn't told anyone is because they are her friends and she will respect their wishes. But the main reason is that she remembers fearing the team's reactions when she first got together with Will. Looking back, it was stupid, but she understands their wanting to keep it a secret.
At least she did before. Now, she's not so sure. They're both hurting and neither one is making an effort to openly comfort the other all for pretense. She had hoped that since Hotch and Morgan were staying at the station, Emily and Reid would at least talk while on the way to the hotel. Her and Rossi both know. There's no reason for why they are sitting silently in the back seat.
Before they began dating, they had openly comforted one another when it was needed. However, now that they are a couple, they have made a conscious effort to limit any show of emotion in front of the team. She's not expecting them to begin openly displaying their affection for one another, but a hug when someone comes close to dying is not out of the question. JJ makes up her mind to tell Emily as soon as they get to the hotel to ignore her worries about the team, and talk to Reid.
Rossi, however, doesn't give her a chance. As he slowly circles the parking lot searching for a space near the entrance, he begins talking. "I know it probably goes without saying, but I'm going to ask it anyway. I'm assuming that Hotch and Morgan don't know about you two?"
Emily sees the look of surprise on Reid's face at Rossi's question. If the situation were different, she'd have laughed at it. "No, not that we know of," she answers calmly, resulting in another look of surprise from Reid.
"And you still don't want them to, correct?" He slowly eases the car into a spot facing the busy street before turning to face the backseat. Emily looks to Reid, waiting to see if he's going to answer. When he doesn't, she slowly shakes her head, "No, not yet."
Rossi studies both of their faces, trying to make sure he isn't overstepping any boundaries. "What?" he asks when he sees the slight look of confusion and, what he thinks is amusement, on Reid's face.
Reid tilts his head and furrows his brow. "So we're done pretending that you don't know?"
"I caved. Sorry," Rossi quips with a small smile.
Though she can't see it, Emily's almost certain that the look of surprise she had previously seen on Reid's face is now mirrored on hers. Though she wants to ask Reid how long he had known that Rossi knew about them, she decides now isn't the time. Instead, she looks back towards Rossi as he continues with his original line of questioning.
"How's the head?" he asks Reid.
"Still concussed," Reid answers, not sure what Rossi's wanting to ask. "Why?" Rossi glances at Emily before answering Reid. "You're not planning on spending the night alone immediately after hitting your head that hard, are you?" Although he says it in the form of a question, his tone of voice suggests that he has no doubts as to what the answer will be.
Reid slowly shakes his head no and continues to stare at Rossi questioningly, still uncertain why Rossi is asking. Emily, however, suddenly begins to understand Rossi's unspoken worries. "Crap." She exhales sharply before leaning back in the seat. "They're gonna want to check on you," she says, clueing a still confused Reid in on her realization.
Turning in her seat, JJ says in a sympathetic but warning tone, "Or they may want to spend the night."
"By 'they', you mean Morgan." Reid clarifies, feeling his headache suddenly intensify. He's always appreciated his friends and the way in which they show their concern. While their support and an offer to crash on the couch would have been more than welcome three months ago, now that he's with Emily, it's unnecessary.
"Exactly," Rossi replies, happy that everyone's on the same page. "I was just thinking that you might want to think of a plan before they get here and the offer's made."
Using her thumb to move her hair out of her face, Emily quietly thinks over their options. Not wanting to outright lie anymore than necessary, she suggests what she deems to be the best and most obvious course of action. "Why don't we just tell them I've already volunteered?"
"Sounds good to me." Reid hurriedly exits the car as fast as his cracked rib will allow. He hates the whole situation. He hates that Wilkes is dead. He hates the relief he feels that he's not. He hates the guilt he feels for being relieved. He hates the physical pain he's in and the disorientation caused by the concussion. And he definitely hates that he, Emily, and two of their closest friends are discussing the best way to deceive two of their other friends. Three friends he thinks, suddenly remembering Garcia.
He doesn't want to be someone they can't trust. No matter what the reasons, he knows betrayal hurts and it takes a lot to earn back the trust that is lost. As he slowly starts walking towards the hotel's entrance, he thinks back to how he felt after Emily had come back. Although those feelings are long since gone, he can still recall the anger he had felt. He feels a sense of shame begin to rise in his chest as he remembers the first few months after the team learned about the Dilaudid, and his constant fight to regain their trust.
Those particular lies had negative connotations and had hurt or affected the entire team directly. And where as them keeping their relationship secret from the others won't cause any harm, Reid can't help thinking that nothing good can come from lying. As JJ pushes the button for the elevator, he remembers Morgan telling him years ago that trust is earned.
As he watches Emily searching through his bag of discarded clothes for the key to his room, he feels the butterflies in his stomach return; something that hadn't happened in a while. He loves the comfort and complete reliability he has with Emily. He knows that Hotch, Morgan, and Garcia will find out one day. He begins to feel the stress ease as he thinks about how Rossi and JJ have acted since finding out, and he knows that the others will understand he and Emily wanting to keep their personal life personal.
Well, Hotch and Morgan will. He'll just have to wait and see how Garcia reacts.
Other than a quick "thank you" when Emily hands Reid his key, no one says anything while in the elevator. Reid knows it's partly for his benefit, that they're letting him have his space and he appreciates it.
As soon as the elevator doors open on their floor, Reid exits first, quickly walking to his door. He tries opening the door, awkwardly using his left hand to slide the keycard into the lock before pulling it out and trying to grab the door with the same hand before the green light changes back to red. After three unsuccessful attempts, JJ silently takes the card from his hand and easily opens the door on the first try. He gives her a shy smile showing his thanks, and continues into his now unlocked room.
He walks to his go-bag sitting on the floor. Using the wall for support, he bends down as best as he can, searching the bag for a decent pair of pants. He sits on the edge of the bed, dark pair of chords in hand, and slowly changes into them from the scrub pants—a task made more difficult by the fact that he kept his shoes on.
He hates that he can't change his shirt. At the moment, he doesn't have the patience or will power necessary for tackling the sling and change of shirts with only one arm. He stuffs his belongings, scrub pants included messily into his go-bag, not caring for neatness and sits in the hard chair near the window, waiting for the time to leave.
Emily free-falls backwards onto the bed, letting her arms spread out on either side. Today has sucked, and it's not even over yet. They're not supposed to dread the trip home. It's supposed to be something to look forward to. After Reid had exited the SUV, Rossi had promised to talk to Morgan about her staying with Reid. One less worry on her mind, about a million more left.
She still doesn't know what she'll say to Reid when he's ready to talk, if he's ever ready. She knows him well enough to know that he'll suffer silently unless coerced to talk. She can list half a dozen times she had convinced him to talk, sharing what was bothering him. Each time had come naturally, her knowing what to say from instinct and experience. But this time there's no instinct and she feels that this time, talking to Reid will be different. She'll be speaking with her boyfriend, not her friend and colleague.
She laughs a little at the thought. Reid is her boyfriend. She decides she hates that term, it sounds so generic. She thinks of past boyfriends and the feelings she had for them. While strong and intense at the time, none of her feelings then can compare to what she feels for Reid. She knows she loves him. She loves her whole team, but she really loves him. She's known it for a while now, she just hasn't told him.
She lies there for a long time, letting her thoughts overtake her mind. She ignores the voice telling her to stay awake, letting the pull of sleep take her. She's exhausted, physically and emotionally. She doesn't know how much time has passed when she's awoken by a sharp knock on her door.
"Sorry, I fell asleep," she explains when she opens the door to find Morgan standing on the other side. "Everyone ready to go?"
He nods, his go-bag in his hand. "Are you okay?" he asks, worried by the slip in her normally composed demeanor.
"Yeah, I'm good." She smiles, trying to convince him. She pulls the door shut behind her, and starts walking towards the elevator. JJ's already there, and gives a tired smile when they join her.
"Rossi says you're staying with Reid tonight?" She tries to look as though she isn't uncomfortable with the question, relieved that JJ is doing the same. "Yeah, paper said he shouldn't be by himself for at least twenty-four hours," she answers referring back to the handout the doctor had given them. "Is that okay?" She asks in her best nonchalant voice.
"Yeah, it's fine. I was just gonna say if you change your mind, I can do it." He shrugs, pushing the button for the lobby. "But the kid seems comfortable with you."
Emily looks to JJ, seeing her looking back at her out of the corner of her eyes. To Emily's relief, Morgan doesn't continue the conversation. They quickly walk towards the rest of the team, dropping their room keys off at the front desk on the way. Emily notices Hotch carrying Reid's bags as Reid stands next to the door looking incredibly uncomfortable.
The flight home was welcomingly silent. Reid had immediately gone to the corner seat and fallen asleep before the jet took off. Everyone spread out in the small cabin, giving each other the space needed to unwind after a bad case. Other than to wake Reid twice, causing him more irritation despite it being doctor's orders, no one spoke to anyone the entire flight.
As soon as they land, Hotch places Reid's bags in the back of Emily's car. As Reid sits in the passenger seat, Hotch turns to Emily, "Don't worry about going back to the office. Just take him home." If he seems surprised or curious as to why Emily's the one to stay with Reid, he doesn't show it. By the time she gets in the car and buckles her seatbelt, Reid is already asleep.
She eases her body into the warm bath. She doesn't turn on the music, wanting the silence. Reid had gone straight to bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes, as soon as they walked through the door. She had thought about going to bed, but realized that she was too wired for sleep despite how tired she was.
She sets her alarm on her phone to go off every two hours so she can wake Reid and monitor his concussion. She sets the phone on top of the towel next to the tub before sinking to her chin in the water. She feels the familiar sting of tears, and immediately blinks them away. She's emotional, and she hates the way it makes her feel.
She's always associated emotions with vulnerability. If you're too emotional on the job, you can be a liability. You're supposed to separate the job and your emotions. But she's not on the job right now. She's in Reid's bathtub, waiting for the alarm to go off so she can make him angry by waking him again.
She holds her nose as she bends her knees, allowing her head to fall beneath the surface of the water. She's always liked the feeling of being underwater, the heavy sounds caused by her body moving drumming in her ears. She counts to thirty before she comes back up.
As she wipes the water out of her eyes, her phone starts to ring. She leans over the side of the tub and grabs the phone, careful not to drip water on it. "Hello?"
"Hello yourself Mrs. Robinson, how's our baby boy?"
Emily rolls her eyes and smiles, preparing herself for Garcia's teasing. "PG, please don't ever call me that."
"It was meant as a compliment."
"I'm not that much older than him."
"Twelve years, almost thirteen," Garcia jibes, "but who's counting? Besides, with age comes experience, and our young doctor might need some. Speaking of, how is he?"
Emily tries to keep still, not wanting the movement of the water to be heard over the phone, alerting Garcia that she's in Reid's tub. "He's asleep right now. I have to wake him up in a couple of hours."
"But he's okay, right?" Garcia asks, her voice full of motherly concern.
"Yes, he's okay. He'll be back at work in a few days."
"So, how did you get stuck with nurse duty? Did you draw the lucky short straw, or did you valiantly volunteer?" Emily can actually hear the mischievousness in every syllable, picturing the exact smile she knows is on Garcia's face.
"I volunteered." She braves the answer, knowing it's only inviting more teasing.
"Well, that was very friendly of you," Garcia teases. Emily just smiles, not really minding her friend's teasing. She can only imagine what Garcia will say when she learns that Emily's feelings for Reid far exceed a crush.
"Penelope, you act like I'm gonna take advantage of him."
"I'm just messing with you. I know you care for him, we all do. I'm just calling to make sure all of my babies are okay."
Emily loves Garcia's openness about her feelings when it comes to her friends, her family. "He's okay, a little shook up, but okay," she informs the technical analyst.
"Sweetie, I said all of my babies. That includes you, too."
Emily smiles again. "I'm okay, too."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She hangs up the phone, returning it back to its place on the towel. She reaches for a washcloth, wanting to hurry and leave the tub before the water begins to cool.
When the alarm on her phone goes off two hours later, she quietly walks into the bedroom. She sees Reid lying on his back, the sling for his arm abandoned on the floor. She frowns when she sees that he has pulled off the bandage on his head, revealing a line of stitches starting just above his temple and disappearing into his scalp.
She doesn't want to wake him, knowing he needs the sleep. For a moment, she considers letting him sleep before she remembers how adamant he had been about her following the doctor's orders when she had received a concussion years before.
Leaning over him, she gently shakes his good shoulder. "Reid, wake up." She has to repeat herself several times before he finally wakes up. She sees confusion clouding his eyes before being replaced with annoyance.
He rubs a tired hand across his face before moving to sit up. As he tries to push himself off the bed, he grimaces at the pain that shoots through his shoulder. She takes his arm and pulls him, helping him to sit up fully.
"What time is it?" His voice is gravelly and his tone sharp. "Almost five," she picks the sling up off the floor, "why aren't you wearing this?"
"It's uncomfortable, I couldn't sleep." He carefully runs a finger back and forth along the line of stitches on his head. "Damn stitches itch." Sleepy Reid equals short sentences. Aggravated Reid equals bad mood.
He stands and walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, more for something to do than because he's hungry. Emily keeps her distance, letting his anger at being woken up subside.
He slams the fridge shut before walking to the sink, fixing a glass of water. Emily slowly walks towards him, and leans against the counter facing him. She watches as he slowly sips from the glass, his eyes focused on the faucet. "Are you okay?" she asks, keeping her hands to herself.
"Tap water tastes disgusting," he replies, refusing to look at her.
"Reid, I asked if…"
"I heard you. I wish everyone would stop asking me that." His voice is shaky, his nerves showing through.
"Maybe everyone would, if you managed to give an honest answer." She feels her anger start to build, annoyed with his stubbornness.
"What do you want me to say, Emily?" he snaps, dropping the glass into the sink.
"The truth. I'm not asking you to sit down and have a therapy session or try and explain your feelings. I'm asking you to tell me what's wrong. To tell me how to help you." She's almost begging. She hates that he can do that to her.
"I don't know. I don't know what to tell you, I don't know what I want you to tell me, and I definitely don't know how I feel about it." He's yelling now, causing Emily's posture to stiffen. She knows this needs to happen, she just doesn't know if she's ready for it.
"What if I tell you what I feel?" She tries to keep her voice calm, a warm juxtaposition to his cold harshness. He doesn't say anything, but he turns towards her, inviting her to talk.
"I'm a mess. I want to cry, and… I don't know if it's because I'm sad that you almost died, or if it's because I'm pissed that you had to go through that. I hate that you're hurt, and I hate that I can't do anything." She keeps her eyes focused on her hands, trying to identify her feelings without letting them overwhelm her.
She breathes deeply, looking up only when she's certain she won't breakdown. Her breath catches as soon as her eyes meet his. He doesn't look angry anymore. His jaw is clenched, one hand gripping the sink tightly while the other hangs at his side. She takes a step towards him, placing a hand on the back of his neck when she sees the tears he's reluctantly crying.
She pulls his head towards her, letting him rest against her shoulder as the tears increase. She wraps her arms around him, one hand tangling in his hair. She isn't embarrassed when she realizes that she's crying too. They stand there like that for several minutes, neither one saying anything.
She feels him begin to steady his breathing, slowly gaining back control. She doesn't move a muscle, not wanting to push him away. He places a hand on her waist, as he pulls his head up. She wants to reach up and wipe the tears, but keeps her hands locked behind his neck instead.
He looks around the dark kitchen, trying to organize his thoughts. "I don't know how to do this." It's almost a whisper, and if Emily hadn't been as close as she is, she would have missed it.
"Do what?"
"This. With you." Seeing the shock in her eyes, he quickly tries to backtrack. "Not like that. I mean, yes like that, but just because I don't know how doesn't mean I don't want to." She nods, letting him know she understands without interrupting him. "I was in that seat. If you hadn't pulled me away, I still would have been. I'd be dead right now, and Wilkes would be dizzy." His voice is calm now, steady despite the shaking in his hands. "And we keep lying. I'm tired, and sleepy and everyone keeps waking me up, and we keep lying to them."
She unlocks her fingers and wipes his tears with her thumbs before resting her hands on either side of his neck. She knows he's exhausted and can tell by his sudden rambling that the concussion still has him disoriented.
She rubs her thumb along his carotid, feeling the pulse beating against the skin. "We can tell them. First thing tomorrow, I will go in and tell them. Hell, I can call Garcia right now and the others will know before I even get there."
"I don't know if I want them to know yet. I just don't want to lie anymore."
She looks at him, trying to decide if now is the time to point out the flaw in his logic, or really his lack of logic.
He gives a shaky laugh at the look on her face, "I know it doesn't make sense."
"Good. I was starting to think that concussion was worse than we thought," she jokes. She smiles when she sees that crooked grin. "They won't be mad you know." She had thought about it. Rossi and JJ have both shown support. She knows Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia will, too. Morgan will tease relentlessly, but he'll still be supportive.
"I know," he admits.
"So we can tell them whenever we want. It doesn't have to be now." He nods in response, exhaling deeply with the release of stress. "You can go to sleep now. I won't wake you up until I leave for work. Promise."
He laughs again, but follows her to the bedroom. "I need a different shirt." She turns to see him awkwardly pulling the shirt over his head before dropping it on the floor. She walks to his dresser and pulls out a faded black t-shirt.
He doesn't say anything as she walks to him, her eyes looking over his wrapped torso. She keeps the folded shirt at her side as she examines the bruises covering his breastbone, steadily growing more intense in color before disappearing beneath the wrapped bandage. She runs her fingertips along his clavicle, careful not to apply pressure. She knows that the bandage is hiding stitches and even worse bruising.
"I'm sorry." His voice is soft, once again a whisper.
"For what?" she asks, keeping her fingers on his skin.
"For scaring you, for you having to be scared and angry." She leans forward and kisses him on the side of his jaw. She smiles as she gestures to the shirt in her hands. Without giving him a chance to attempt to dress his self, she carefully eases his hand through the arm of the shirt before pulling it over his head. He pushes his good arm through the other sleeve and pulls the shirt the rest of the way down.
"You really should wear the sling." She picks it up off the bed, pulling the Velcro apart to put back on his shoulder.
"No, I can't sleep with it. The wrap's bad enough." He rubs a hand along his chest, feeling the edges of the bandage beneath his shirt.
"Fine, let's just go to sleep." She says, as he starts to yawn. She pulls back the covers, climbing in on her side.
He turns off the lamp before climbing in beside her. Almost five minutes pass in complete silence before he asks in a barely awake voice, "If I go to sleep, you won't wake me up until you leave, right?"
"Promise."
A/N: Right now, I'm preparing for some serious weather. I'm in Alabama, and most of today was spent in storm shelters because tornado sirens kept going off. Lucky for you stress causes me to write faster, and my nerves are shot because we're still trying to get over the tornadoes from last April, and now we're being told to prepare for more. This chapter is eleven pages long. Nine of those pages were written while watching the weatherman point out red spots on the radar.
I also want to point out that although I'm living in Alabama, I'm originally from Louisiana. It'll always be my home, and not including Katrina, I'd prefer a hurricane to a tornado. You have a better warning with a hurricane. No idea why I wanted to say that. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. And I'm nervous. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter!
Once again, I want to thank everyone for the amazing reviews. It motivates me to write more. Seriously, if it weren't for the reviews, I'd just continue sitting around daydreaming instead of writing the thoughts down and posting them. I really appreciate reading what the reader's think.