Too Many Times
Suits / Donna x Harvey (darvey)
Chapter 11 – We've gone all over our bodies
We've gone all over our bodies
And gone all over our heads
No dream of any other
I dream of you instead
I'm tuning in to your colors
Tuning in to your heart
And while we're in the same world
I'm feeling worlds apart
Solid Gold – New Carnival
The magic they'd given off for years, furtive glances that had her look away and times she'd immerse herself into forbidden feelings – had never felt so three dimensional. In the ghost of a house they'd built together, modern walls and skyscrapers for sole companions, she had to suffer through every spot, nook and cranny. She'd felt his disappearance before but nothing could compare to the air she'd been breathing alone for a week: rarified and asphyxiating. The tighter the space, the harsher the feeling, the wider the scenery, the deeper the gap. Their world that was once in their hands was now a concrete monster trying to swallow her whole.
There was no Harvey, staring at his playground, standing tall, trim, proud and suited to fit the world he'd made her come to love. She'd forgive her fight during the day, losing herself into work. Doing everything that was right for her. But she had spent most of her nights crying – hugging his pillow, never washing the sheets, trying to remember the scent of him.
The train had arrived at dawn that morning. Three hours late. First a passenger had to be evacuated for reasons unknown to her, and then there was a signal system failure. She'd expected some locomotive error or impairment at this point – as if the piece of machinery surrounding her acted under the will of God or Nature and didn't want her to reach her destination. The irony had reinvigorated her will to fight her instincts and yet had catapulted her back to the woods, to his car and into his arms. Eyes forward, never turning back again wasn't the goodbye he deserved. But it had been easier that way.
She had barely closed her eyes. Numb and staring aimlessly at the countryside for most part of the trip. She told Robert she'd come to work in the afternoon. She took a cab from Grand Central Station, leaving the Beaux-Arts style she was so fond of to go back to civilization: New York City or the greatest forest of them all. Her place had never felt so random; as if it wasn't hers. She traded her dirty jeans and sweater for one of her power suits and had gone to see Louis first.
He'd completely forgotten his in process argument with Katrina the moment he saw her. She'd only been gone three days and, according to a later conversation with Katrina, he'd gone frantic. They hugged and he gave her a look that said it all. Louis was frozen on the spot, profusely trembling and taking a moment to expertly switch to a new mood. Back to his antics, he attacked Katrina's supposed incompetence before dramatically shoving his office door open and exiting the room. Katrina unexpectedly pulled her in a tight awkwardly soothing embrace too as if she knew where she'd gone. The former name partner wasn't returning. And if Donna Paulsen couldn't do anything about it, then no one else could.
She'd tried sleeping at home the first night but sought his bed instead. She packed as many clothes as possible and all the necessary belongings. And from that moment on, every night she repeated the same routine, coming home to where her heart belonged.
At only God knows what hour of the night – trying to remember him, trying to feel him and trying to make her life work without him. Sometimes she would take one of his shirts, trap her wrists into his cufflinks and enwrap herself into this tailored torturous embrace. Red hair falling over cold sheets, moisture on her lips, dampness at the back of her neck, her body twisting and turning and coming until it hurt to repair the memory of who she'd lost. She would then go to his closet and in a violent rush, yank suits off hangers, toss them on the floor and absolve every wear, tear and clatter by putting everything back in place again.
She thought about throwing his suits away on more than one occasion and freeing herself somehow; but then she remembered she couldn't sell his apartment. He was always on her mind. And slowly, she'd begun another routine: talking to herself – pretending to be him before her body couldn't take it and everything would fade to black. She never dreamt of him.
Harvey hadn't returned the two texts she'd sent to his old phone. And she didn't have it in her to call him. In the mornings, she always hoped Robert would give her more assignments. Workload was her escape. The best part of her days was when Samantha Wheeler would just nod offhandedly at her in Robert's office. Both women had come to an agreement after an impromptu conversation in the main corridor on that first Monday back at work.
"Donna!" The tall blonde woman had an exasperated look on her face. "It's not good for business when the COO skips work. You got Cage & Sons to sign and I needed your input to draw up that contract."
"You're the lawyer here. You don't need me Samantha," Donna countered, trying to walk out on her.
"Well, that's what I told Robert at first. And Robert's always on my side. But this time, he kept rambling on about how I didn't understand how things work around here and how I should wait until you came back. For all the time I invest, I need return on investment. Me, losing time over this, isn't good for my business."
Donna faced the other woman again. "What do you want from me?"
Samantha handed Donna a copy of the contract. "I expect long comments and footnotes on my desk tomorrow morning."
"Have you ever learned to say please?" Donna yanked it from her hands.
"Is that how you tried to ask Harvey to come back this weekend?"
Had she not been at work, she would have punched that woman in the face. Robert too for that matter.
"You'll have it by tonight."
"Tomorrow, Donna. I need you to put real work into this."
"You're good at getting information, I'll give you that. But this firm knows me and you don't. I got that contract because I can read people. And fast. Just like I can read and adjust that damn contract in less than four hours."
"Well, everybody seems to be leaving this firm so that tells me you might not be as good as people think you are."
"Oh Samantha, I'm not good. I'm better." Her pulse quickened – ecstatically sharp words already forming in her head.
It took Donna less than a couple of glances her way, head tilts to scan her office, seconds to do the math and all the surprises she had coming spilled on the other woman like a shaken soda. "You wear contacts which means you used to wear glasses. Your eyes get tired at night which is why there's a pair on your desk. So… High School? College? Don't think those were good times for you. Boys never singling you out?" Samantha gasped when she'd heard Donna bring up her glasses.
"Now the dark rings under your eyes you tried to cover up with concealer and foundation tell me you haven't slept much last night. You probably cried over your last boyfriend who doesn't give a shit about anything but your ass. Scratch that, your dress which doesn't look like it's been ironed screams that he dumped you last night and you just couldn't go home."
"And how does attacking me on my personal life make you an asset to this firm or just better?"
"It doesn't. But you attacked me the moment you brought up Harvey." She felt a lump in her throat saying his name. "I'm not your enemy. So why do you have to make me one? Get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let me do my job. You'll have it on your desk tonight."
Donna delivered twice that day. Tossing the file at Samantha, she said: "I left the legal jargon to you and offered suggestions based on my meeting with David. The more personal the contract, the more satisfied he'll be. That's a hard bargain to pull off but I'm sure you can do it without risking the firm or going against Louis's by-laws."
Samantha put her glasses on and looked over the file – somewhat not unsatisfyingly.
"Thank you." Samantha's cold stare had never seemed so awestruck.
Donna nodded in return and was going to leave her office when the blond spoke. "I don't understand why a woman like you didn't use concealer this morning."
"I don't need it."
"Why?"
"Because I don't have anything to hide anymore."
Samantha didn't push it.
Donna threw the woman a sympathy look. "Whoever this guy is? He wasn't worth it."
Samantha turned uneasily in her chair. "How do you know it's not me who broke it off?"
"Well, it's just like you said. I'm not wearing concealer, am I?"
Both women had nodded in understanding, calling it quits.
She'd called Rachel that night. It was their ritual; a couple of times a week.
"I see him everywhere at the office. At his apartment as if he's staring at me from every doorway. It's like I'm hallucinating him but I know it's not him. He's shaved and wearing a suit. Do you think I'm going mad?"
"Well I think you shouldn't stay at his place, Donna. You should go home." Rachel sighed and continued, "But no, I don't think you're crazy. I went through the same phase when Mike and I separated. But he and I hadn't been together as long as Harvey and you have."
"We've only been together three days, I shouldn't–" Donna almost chuckled before her voice broke.
"It's not like that between the two of you and you know it. You have history together."
"This isn't helping."
"It's the truth. But you have to accept he's not coming back–"
The hell he isn't.
Donna heard Mike's voice over the receiver.
This is a private conversation. You have no boundaries… Mike, no, don't you dare–
He must have yanked the phone from Rachel because the voice she heard next was his.
"He's coming back, Donna."
Put it on speaker at least. Everything that came next resonated differently as if they were far away from the phone.
"You don't know that, Mike."
"I do. You're his everything."
"I chose work over him again, Mike."
"Whatever you choose Donna, it's going to decide for him."
"He let you go Mike and he didn't try to stop you."
"You're different, Donna."
"I don't want him to stop me from living my life."
Rachel spoke next: "And you shouldn't have to apologize for living it! He can't force you to quit."
"That's the thing, Rachel. My brain went against my heart on this."
Mike cut in, abrasively. "You have to ask yourself the right questions, Donna."
Mike stop playing with her feelings. She's a grown woman.
"No, it's okay, Rachel. I want to hear this."
"You're not afraid to lose your job. You're not afraid of losing him since he's already gone. So what are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid he doesn't want me enough. Enough to get over his fears."
"And don't you think he hasn't asked himself the same question this entire time?"
White noise filled Donna's body.
Okay, that's it. You've said enough. Go back to work.
"He doesn't know what he's talking about." Rachel said, picking up where Mike had left off.
"He's… right."
"Don't, Donna. He's just mad at Harvey. He hasn't even spoken to him yet. He doesn't even know the whole story."
"Stop, Rach'. He knows everything because you guys make it work. You talk, you share. You know everything there is to know about one another."
"Go back to his place, Donna. Find a way to say goodbye for now."
"For now?"
"Just because I want you to find happiness doesn't mean…" Rachel chose her next words carefully – the wait disorienting Donna. " I want to see him fail to do so."
"You're worse than Mike at this, you know that?"
"What? What is that, hon? Sorry, D, I have to go apologize to my altruistic husband now."
"Thank him for me."
"I will. I love you, D."
"You too."
Another night. And another. Another drink – the only amber liquid that would make her stop feeling worlds apart. A couple of days had gone by and Rachel's advice had begun to slip away, leaving a figment of her imagination in the kitchen, in the living room and in the bathroom to boss her around. More nights than she thought herself able to count went by until she got sick of trying to say goodbye. The only eviction notice she'd received was from the broken signals of her brain. She knew she was making him up – a child's imaginary friend.
You're brushing your teeth the wrong way, you know that?
"I'm not." If this was supposed to be Harvey, why did his words have to sound like her mother's? This hot version of him with at least three buttons of his shirt undone, exposing excess skin was enough to make her forget those stupid comments. Making him more real than she had to would just be a one way trip to the looney bin anyway. She chuckled at herself. "Stop it, Mom." She spat what was left of toothpaste and washed her mouth.
Okay, you got me. I'm not staring at your teeth.
She went rigid and held her breath. She wasn't wearing anything for she had just come out of the shower. This was as flirtatious as her mind could get.
Stop wearing my shirt.
"Then come and take it off yourself." She couldn't resist that imaginary banter.
She sought the comfort of the mattress - frenzied and distorted in mind and limbs. He was it; his leg grazing the curve of her mound, his hard chest crushing the swell of her breasts. She would grind her pelvis into the bed, one hand gripping the sheets, eyes dilated with desire as she came to the inevitable conclusion that this couldn't go on.
And yet the next time, she made him up again in the living room with a glass of scotch.
Hey. How did it go today?
"It went fine." She was lying of course. She wanted an argument and craved for a soiled and perverted release. Single and career-driven, she'd never felt so far from the woman she used to be. How could she feel so independent and desperate at the same time?
She took her heels off and headed straight for the bathroom. He reappeared seconds later, leaning against the tiled wall, arms crossed with four loose buttons on his shirt. Same pattern and the same rotten feeling settled in her chest.
It doesn't look like it did.
"No, it didn't. Robert asked me to contact you because you weren't answering his calls. He needs you on a case and of course, you being you… You just couldn't answer, could you? Just like you keep on ignoring my texts."
I've been here all day, Donna.
"You goddamn haven't! You're not here!" Yelling against a great made-up love story was destroying her substantially and fast. The saddest song on Earth was playing in her head, crushing the remnants of a fading dream. A single tear left her eye as she gazed at his reflection. She couldn't touch him. She rested her palm against the mirror – tracing the contours of this mirage as if she held the power to dematerialize it with her fingertips. Connecting with herself again, she summed up, dryly: "You're not real."
Why did you leave me then?
She was just a sinner without parole, jailed in an endless loop of surfacing wants and discarded needs.
"You're not real." She closed her eyes.
Is this your way of saying goodbye? She could have sworn she'd said this herself. This sham of a relationship, this pretense of a life with him had to stop.
"I guess it is." He didn't react. He couldn't react. She'd never programmed him to do that. He wasn't a robot, he wasn't flesh either. He was a reality she couldn't make work with her own. This was his old self, someone who was unable to open up – an everlasting in-between she'd conjured up to protect herself. She opened her eyes wide, gripped the edges of the sink with all the strength she could muster up and burst out crying. Gasping for air as salt started burning her eyes, drops tumbling down from her chin, drenching her dress, she felt her life crumble in and out. Chest heaving, her ribcage taking invisible punches that ripped through muscles, bones and guts as the image of him disappeared between her tears.
Kids. The only wave of good noise that had the effect of transforming a terrible series of days into something precious and worth desiring. Five days a week, two hours a day, he didn't have to talk to himself.
Marcus and Fred had been extra supportive – trying not to bring Donna up. Drinks had been offered, words were exchanged and manly hugs accepted. The women couldn't help it though. Daphne and Katie didn't understand what was holding him back and tried some sort of intervention on him once.
Harvey, we know it's not our business but we're worried about you. You look like a mess.
Yes, you have to call her back.
At least send her a text or something.
This surely can't be over!
But Harvey had retreated home instead of answering them. Every night, in his defense, he was drowning as if hooked to an anchor and falling towards the bottom of the ocean.
Sophie had come by a couple of times trying to get him into bed again. And by getting into bed he'd told Fred, she'd suggested they go at it in his car, in the woods even on the benches after a game between the adults. He'd repeatedly told her to back off. Their last exchange that night had been quite harsh. Everyone was gone, it was just them, the field and gear he had to pick up and bring back home.
"You've got to relax, Harvey. You told me yourself she's not coming back. You can't stay single for long and I know that around here, I'm the only one you've been interested in so far."
"Why do you keep pushing it? I am not interested in you, Sophie."
"You are. You just don't know it yet." She moved closer to him and rested a hand on his chest.
"I know what I want. And you're not it." Seventy five percent of it was a lie. The who was a certainty; as clear as the best home run. The how to get it was a constant battle and the general what of his life, an uncertainty at best.
"You know, I don't care about love. So what? You're desperately in love with her? I don't mind. I just want to feel your big cock inside of me."
"You know why I'm not trying to yank your hand away right now?"
"I think I do…" She licked her lips.
"Because I don't feel anything inside. You don't trigger anything in me. You'll definitely be able to get me hard but that's just because I'm a man. I don't want you and I certainly don't need you. " He said dryly.
"Harvey I –"
"I don't know what your husband did to you that turned you into this mess. But I truly hope you find someone that will make you love yourself again; enough that you stop acting like a crazy nympho. This isn't the way Sophie. And I'm not the solution to your problems."
"I'm not the only one who has a problem here."
"I never said I didn't. You'll just never be the solution to mine."
He saw a deer that night on his property. He hid out in his bedroom and checked his phone for Massachusetts' regulations on the subject. The fence had to be at least 8 feet high. He used repellents the first day. It didn't work. The deer had ventured by the cedar tree and stayed the whole night as if keeping watch, monitoring his every move. It would take him at least two weeks to enclose the property completely. The next morning he started fencing parcels between the path that led into the clearing and his property. He hated the idea of keeping the nature he'd been so fond of at bay. He simply never wanted to see that damn deer ever again. He didn't have to be at the bottom of all the whisky he had, not having her around was enough to make him figure out the emptiness he felt. The deer was the memory of lost beauty; she'd handed him a heart again – something worth breaking. He'd loved her all along. But she was supposed to be gone and that deer that'd crossed their path too many times with it. He stopped going to baseball practice. Fred had called a few times but Harvey had never answered.
His nights were spent falling asleep on the couch, reading her texts; old ones and the two she'd sent in an incoherent order.
I hope you're okay. Haven't heard from you all day. I'm back at work. I miss you.
Well, you know what? I never thought you would make that decision by yourself.
Scrolling back up and down again, his last connection to her was this phone.
13 years and you're quitting?
I'm home. I'm sorry, Harvey. The last thing I wanted to do was leave you. Please give me a call at some point.
Harvey, are you in love with me? What have I done wrong?
He'd gotten answers. But she hadn't. She'd done nothing wrong. He was just a screw up who'd lost the will to fight battles he'd created. Her loving him all those years; her choosing her career over him and now the loneliest and longest ride of his life was ahead of him. He deserved none of it and all of it at the same time.
He couldn't go to his bedroom. All he could see was her – getting dressed for him over and over again.
Days went by and he'd kept wearing the same clothes, barely taking showers. He didn't recognize his scent. His hair and scruff were a terrible mess like the mess she'd left inside of him. Working on the fence, eating the food his mother would bring him. She'd never said a word. Sometimes he didn't even notice her coming into the house, too focused on the task at hand. And at the end of the day he'd eat food he once thought delicious; enough to keep the incoming inhibition afloat and not pass out after one drink.
Another night came and, as if the Macallan he'd drank at his father's grave hadn't been enough, he drowned himself some more. The table was set for one as usual. And no matter how much he loved his mother, he couldn't eat.
He wanted to make it all go away; he wanted Donna to forgive him for being away from her. He remembered the smell of her skin. He remembered everything.
The city man wanted to take a midnight train. He wanted to be with her. But this was it. He had no reason to stay in New York besides her. He'd get bored; they'd be living different lives. What would he do all day? Run all the way up to Hudson Heights? Go North, beyond East 145th and then West of 177th Street? Forgetting streets and walk up and down a boulevard? And then run all the way down to Battery Park? And then what? They'd argue because this wasn't his life anymore? Would he leave again? Unknowns filled his head as he kept staring at the phone number his mom had sent him.
There was a knock on the window. It was way past 9PM, a whole month had gone by and the full moon was back to illuminate the one person he thought would always have his back. Lily.
Bottle in hand, he went to open the door.
"Mother." This was the sound of man gulping whisky out the bottle.
"Evening son." His mother had turned into a Hitchcockian version of herself. Psycho was playing in his head for she seemed to be thinking of herself as Gordon.
"I'm busy." He kept his arm against the door.
"I just wanted to let you know I called Tom. He agreed not to sue."
"Good for you." He said dryly.
"Do you want to know how I did it?"
"Not interested." He tried closing the door on her face but she stepped in forcing him to stop.
"It boiled down to my word against his."
"No witness. But if he'd started paperwork, he could ask for compensation for his work; simple damage."
"Exactly, so I figured I'd use your dad's trick on him."
His interest picked up; she'd played Tom.
"I got him to admit he hadn't drawn up anything yet. He backed off and I transferred his money back to him."
"I'd say good for you." He drank some of his liquor. "But you were just lucky enough to make a deal with an idiot."
"You've stopped believing in what you love, Harvey."
"No, love found me and I let it go. That is the story of my life, Mom." He drank some more.
She took the bottle from him. "Stop with that bullshit ego of yours."
"And you better stop bringing Dad up every time you want to connect with me." This was a warning.
"Threaten me all you want, Harvey. I'm not leaving until you start forgetting her and get back to what really matters."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"In 1998–"
He cut her off. "Here we go again…"
"Your dad and I slept together one last time. I was with Bobby at the time."
"Goddamnit, Mom!" Not only did it make him feel uncomfortable but he thought about erasing the past year and the progress they'd made.
"It was one of the best adrenaline rushes I'd had in years. And even though you and I were on the outs, your dad and I kept in touch after that. There was a lot of love between us. We would call each other a lot, sometimes a couple of times a week. And before you ask, yes, Bobby knows."
"So you regretted leaving Dad, I got that."
"Of course I did. I just couldn't be in two relationships at the same time. But you can."
"This isn't making any sense. What kind of other relationship are you talking about? I will never cheat on Donna, you hear me?"
"This is not what I'm talking about. That story I just told you is to try to get some sense into you. You need that rush too."
"Are you saying I need to sleep with Donna one last time to get closure?"
"That's definitely not what I'm saying. And I'm sorry to say this Harvey, but you're blinder than I thought if you think what you need is to get closure with the woman."
"Well continuous lying and cheating will do that to you, I guess."
"Forget her and muse over this tonight." She took one step back.
He took the bottle from her hand and slammed the door in her face.
Forget her, right. As if it was that simple.
He didn't listen to Lily's advice. She didn't deserve to be called Mom. He wanted sleep and forget tonight. Tired of sleeping in his day clothes, he went to his bedroom and searched his closet for a tracksuit. Putting it on, his eyes caught the sight of a travel suit bag. He hadn't put it here. He dragged the zipper down and saw the suit he was wearing the day he'd arrived in Lexington – the one he'd left at his mom's, ironed and ready to be worn.
He started pacing back and forth to release the tension that had set in. Fists clenched. Eyes narrowed. Hands reached face. Confusion and anger were given a forceful rub. He ended up by the window. Body burn out avoided, he let go of his face. It was there, staring at him. At the end of the path. Halfway between the clearing and his house. He didn't think twice. He got out of the house, barefoot and climbed up the fence, fell and hurt his knee on the other side.
"Shit!" He shouted in pain.
"So you're not hurt, huh? Who's to say I won't beat the shit out of you?" Harvey eyed the animal with a threatening glare.
"What do you want from me, huh?" He walked up to the beast, yelling.
"Get the fuck away from this place."
He kept walking and walking until he was one foot away from the immobile deer.
"This is fucking insane. Shouldn't you be afraid by now?"
"Go back where you came from, you stupid–" He never got finish his sentence, words stuck in his throat as he saw the deer take one step closer to him, its breath so far from a warning.
It was beautiful and unafraid. Harvey stood still, feeling lighter for a moment as if wilderness and civilization had found common ground – uniformity.
He began a slow approach in an attempt to touch its narrow muzzle. His hand fell on its coat instead as the deer turned around and eventually moved away from him. Harvey sighed, looked away and slowly began to walk back to his house.
He heard a cracking sound and turned around instinctively. All the way from the edge of the clearing, the deer was looking back at him.
A car. A kiss. Automatic doors. Her disappearing before his eyes. There he'd gone again. Vivid flashes went through his head. Tuning in to her colors, the event going on and on in this live broadcast, he saw his lifeline swirl back again, pumping blood back into his heart.
And then the feeling stopped as the deer ran away. And all he could think about was that it – he – couldn't run away with her.
If tomorrow was too late, he had to live today as his last. He'd been played and this was the end. He didn't give a damn anymore. He was her fool. He'd found love and lost it.
Hands shaking, he slammed the bathroom door open. Hectic, he searched through the cupboard for something sharp. He drew blood; the deepest confession cut painfully through him like a one way motorway. Another cut. And another. The pain he felt was real as real as the days he'd spent with her.
He closed his eyes saying goodbye to yesterday.
She'd managed to make him disappear. Furniture and items had her more surrounded now than ever. She would stare for minutes at the New York skyline every night, dreaming awake of another side to their life. Only he held her hand in the apartment she'd made hers this time.
The days began to feel longer still. She dreaded the nights but she couldn't let go. No news of Harvey. This gilded cage was no more. She wanted to disappear inside this apartment, disappear with him and not go into work the next day. But she'd kept going and doing a wonderful job. She'd brought more clothes, more shoes and make-up. Every time she stepped through that door, a secret world within a whirl illuminated her heart again, moving in on her a little closer every time. She knew she'd start imagining him again and soon if she didn't leave. The woman everyone hailed as a queen at the office – the one who wore expensive dresses and shoes associates had a profound reverence for – couldn't go mad, could she?
She came home another night – having lost count of them – resolute in her decision to let go of him and leave this place once and for all. Hand gripping the knob, she stared at the front door for a moment contemplating the idea of staying one more night. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she was given the final push she needed to remind her to just go home. In the shadows as if expecting her and the decision she'd come to decide, the beautiful hallucination of him had set back in. The last version of Harvey didn't move. Dark eyes striking her figure, Harvey looked intensely sexy in his suit jacket. No tie and no scruff. She sighed, irritated at how disconnected with reality her brain was.
"You're not here." She stared it right in the eye before turning her head back to the door. Closing her eyes, she rested it against the door. "You're not real."
Physicality came into contact with her arm, the grip strong and determined. She saw herself being pulled its way. Dress collided with suit as carnal breath and flesh crashed onto her lips. Tugging at her mouth was the softest of a dream; tongue parted its edges, sank past her rim and went all the way in. At the melting point, she gasped for air and tasted again, losing herself in another time. Tuning in to what her mouth could feel.
Harvey.
Shaved.
TMT
TMT
TMT
I guess they've gone all over their heads! I really hope you liked this chapter. Feel free (that is an understatement) as usual to leave a review; I wouldn't be able to write like THAT if it weren't for those. Chapter 12 coming up soon!
I'd like to thank all of you for reviewing last chapter. It just means so much to me to know that you've all been here from the beginning supporting this story. If I could take you all in my arms right now, I'd ask for a group hug.
My deer beta AlternateShadesofBlue says: "But honestly your writing has gotten to the point you don't need much from me." Well, she's wrong. I never would have been able to write this chapter without her. Thank you for your patience, kindness, hours of fun and other things only Kirby knows of. And yes, maybe I should say thank you for your help too. :P I 3 you and your pseudo uselessness.