THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT,
Separate from the rest of the A/N.
FROM: THE AUTHOR
Okay, first off : you people are freaking amazing. When I started TMoaIMS (this is what I call it in my mind kitchen) it was really just a way for me to vent some of my frustration about LOTR Mary-Sues in a sarcastic and sometimes irritable way. I thought it would easily be lumped into the tl;dr category and shoved into the dark abyss that is the hole made by terrible, 2D characters and their unrealistic behavior. Now: 8 months, 61 favorites, 85 follows, 9,812 views, 108 WHOLE REVIEWS, and ONE FANTASTIC BETA later, here we are, STILL IN TFOTR, AND….
I HAVEN'T EVEN HIT 50K WORDS YET.
The enthusiasm you guys have for this story is incredible and, frankly, ego inflating. *smacks self over the head with frying pan* BUT! I am simply happy to have created something borderline parody, yet introspective at the same time. It's pretty much my goal as a writer. I cannot believe so many people have taken the time to read and review this story, especially when it's mainly been set-up thus far and we haven't even reached the Council of Elrond yet. SO THANK YOU, to each and every one of you.
I hope you'll stick around for what I've got in store. It's gonna be quite the ride. ;)
-Ana
PS. Do you think we can hit 10,000 views with this chapter? LET'S TRY!
REGULAR A/N:
HELLO MA PEEPS! :D
I know, I know. ): I can't just come bombinating in here and demand excitement after I've been gone so long. My apologies. Life's been a crapstorm. Since we just had the first anniversary of my dad's death and my whole family (now three women) has taken to being bitches to each other in our spare time, it, well, leaves me with very little spare time. Sorry. Damn friggin emotions. I think Marilyn would agree that they suck big time.
Anyhoo, I'd like to take a mo to answer a few comments in the review section. Some of the really awesome, I-can't-not reply-to-this-without-guilt ones. Yeah. Those.
The Random Guest: Okay :D I will never turn down daily reviews! Be my guest! (ooh, crap pun FTW.) Just kidding. I'll do my best to keep the updates coming. ALSO: I did 'the epic search of the Google'. ;) I can see what you mean! Marilyn's a little more with the 'typical emo girl with too long bangs in the eyes' look, but I can see what you mean. Clip back the bangs and, well, kinda! I've actually pinned down her look as Ginnifer Goodwin in OUaT (Once Upon a Time) as Snow White, when she's an epic badass living in the Enchanted Forest (except in the outfit I've described.) But that's awesome you actually thought of Marilyn outside of FF! Cool! (That made like WAY more sense in my head…)
Dear U.x .U Holy crap, I hear you. I think that eventually her head will come out of her ass…I don't think it's irreversible…and then, happily ever after? Probably not, given this story…. But something's bound to happen! Spoilers ;) *River Song face*
amazonefighter: ah, words. They get me all the time (this story is proof of that, my god. -_-) I've got other ideas for a canon jumper in the back of my mind, but we'll see what the poll says. ;) SUSPENSE!
LaughingLadybug: Thank you! :D
EchoesofMemory: OMG, really? How did you find me? Where did you find me? I came up in Sue-bashing genre? Sweet! How to boost my update speed…umm, send me a complete female Aragorn cosplay? That would definitely boost my writer moxy…or an 11th Doctor cosplay, I'm flexible. I'd probably even settle for just a bowtie…or fez…
(Speaking of which, did you guys know that PJ is being considered to direct Doctor Who? HOLY CRAP! Can you imagine? 'My first order of business is to completely throw out this disgusting 'canon' idea…ugh. *shudders*' Just kidding. WE LOVE YOU, MR. JACKSON! *Annie style*)
Guest: That. Is. Completely...
…
…
…FREAKING AWESOME! Wow! I will try to keep that in mind somewhere down the road when I actually get somewhere near ROTK. Kudos for the foresight, dude!
Springpony: Thanks! And duly noted, PotC. (I have no idea about jumping RN, BTW.)
DeLacus: Here ya go!
Quiveringquill: five times?! Aw, I'm so flattered! (and sorry you couldn't find anything better, a little xP) Here's your update!
FreeSpiritSeeker: IKR?Marilyn's great with words. Just GREAT…kinda like me.
Schlangenkind: Sorry I never wrote you back, it's been a while! I thought I lost my entire manuscript and so didn't know what to tell you. If you still want to help, let me know and we can start som plot busting dialogue, okay? ;)
Guest: I can neither confirm nor deny that you are absolutely correct. (PSST! Way to think outside of the box! *two thumbs up and a wink*)
UntiedHeartbeat: What now? I had no IDEA there was a successful fanfiction based on this concept. (Really though, no sarcasm. I didn't know.) This is just a little humerous thing I tried to put together as a breath of fresh air from the typical Sue-fics that plague this site. Sorry if it comes off as something of a mockery! In a way it is, but not to any one person in particular. I hope you know what I mean. No hard feelings?
Oh, and PI-Valkyrie-exLorien: I'm posting this to make up for my long absence. However, if you'd still like to Beta it or the following chapters, let me know. I know it's been awhile and I didn't want to put pressure on you after bailing for so long. Apologies!
(BTW, EVERYONE: I'M NOT GIVING UP ON THIS STORY ANY TIME SOON. UPDATES WILL BE UPDATES AND BE SLOW SOMETIMES, BUT THEY WILL KEEP COMING. CONSIDER YE SELF WARNED.)
Whew, that was a MOUTHFUL. Okay! Now, to business.
!WARNING!
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: GANDALF LECTURES, MARILYN BEING A BIT OF AN EMOTIONAL RETARD, CONTRADICTORY DEEP THOUGHTS, MANY FEELS, FRODO BEING ADORABLE AS PER USUAL, MAKEUP SCENES, HOBBIT HUG PILES, SPYING, MORE SPYING, EVASIVE TECHNIQUES, AND UNHELPFUL CONVERSATIONS AND MANY THINGS TO GUESS AT. ALSO: a lot of eye expressions. A LOT.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PROCEED AT YOU OWN RISK.
ENJOY!
Chapter 11
In Which I Make Some Surprising Discoveries, and Some Decisions Too
Last Chapter:
. . .
"He loves you." This came from Frodo, who said it very quietly and with honesty in his eyes.
I froze at this. Now I know that in my mind, I knew that he did…well, it might be more accurate to say I knew the curse was making him. But I never considered the fact that Aragorn might actually love me. Me. Not the idea of me, but….me.
"He doesn't," I said, my voice catching in a way that showed more emotion then I'd meant it to. "He is in love with the idea of me; an idea of a girl who was promised to him from his youth, like a fairy tale princess in a tower. Something I never was. Something I never can be." I sat a moment and stared into space, startled by the feelings I was having. Yes, full on feelings, not stirrings. "One day, when we all stop fighting," I said softly, remembering his words. "When our curses fail and the mist of their deceits falls away, he will see the truth." I paused, overwhelmed by the bleakness creeping into my heart. "That I was never meant to love him. That I was never meant to love at all." I sighed, and looked up at Gandalf. "Then he will understand, that it was all just a delusion."
"Will he?" said a deep voice by the door. A voice I knew well; a voice that made my stomach jump every time I heard it. A voice that was now full of a quiet sadness, and yet at the same time, anger.
Frodo wore a heartbroken expression, his blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears again. "Then it has all been for nothing," he said miserably, and slid down off of my silken bed.
"Frodo," I began, but he gave me such a sad glance that it silenced me. He too wandered out of the room, leaving me alone with the wizard.
I stared at my hands in my lap for a minute or more, thoroughly confused. "What the hell?" I murmured to myself. "That just reinvented the term 'two birds with one stone'." But inside I was pretty messed up. Those were the two people I cared most about in Middle earth, I realized now, and I had just destroyed the hopes and aspirations of both in one go.
"I think," Gandalf said beside me, "That you and I had best go for a little walk." He rose from his chair, tucking away his pipe which, it seemed, had magically been snuffed and emptied.
I sighed.
Marilyn, -2.
Deep Magic, 0.
I was losing, big time.
. . .
With some help from the grey wizard, I rose shakily out of bed and sorted my feet out. After nearly a week of no walking, they weren't exactly eager to be of much use; but I sure as hell wasn't going to spend weeks readjusting to a mobile status, so I toughed it out. Gandalf, for his part, was very obliging, and let me lean on his arm as we went out into the garden. I had thrown on an gauzy robe of dark blue, 'for decency's sake', and some slippers to match; now we were strolling slowly through the bright, cherry golden gardens of Imladris, and I was in heaps of trouble…all of my own making.
I was so done with having to go over all the reasons why I didn't want to stay in Middle-earth. It was like all of my protests were falling on deaf ears anyway. Really, what was the point of arguing? I didn't really want to go home. There was nothing for me there but parents who really couldn't give less of a fuck about me, and annoying people who didn't see the point in anything I cared about. In all honesty, coming here was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me; and if it weren't for all of the family history hanging over my head, the massive changes in Middle-earth history, and the fricken Aragorn thing, I'd have been over the moon to stay here indefinitely.
Even that. The 'Aragorn thing', as I'd dubbed it in my head. I wouldn't have minded staying—hell, even hanging around him—if it wasn't for the whole 'we are secret royalty who must reclaim our thrones' deal. I'd spent enough time around people with money and influence to know that I didn't ever want to become a part of that. However, I would have been very happy to be 'Ranger chick, living in the woods'. That was very me.
"Indeed," Gandalf said from beside me. I jumped a little, and he set a hand on the hand I had set on his arm. "I'm sorry, had you forgotten that I can hear your thoughts?"
I scowled. "More like read my mind," I grumped. He chuckled.
I don't know if it's possible for me to mention enough how friggin unsettling it is to walk beside a man who looks entirely like Ian McKellen and yet is a totally, different person: a being thousands of years old and incredible power. It was true of many people I'd met thus far in my journey in Middle-earth, but I noticed it most with Gandalf.
"Well," said the wizard beside me, "Your arguments are sound. What I don't understand is why you continue to fight a meaningless battle against both yourself, and the forces at play."
"You know me. I don't like being told what to do," I said flatly, tugging on a corner of my sleeve. "This whole Deep Magic shebang has made me want to take my sword to some hedges more times than I could count—or, you know, orcs. Whatever's available."
"I don't doubt it," Gandalf replied. "Nor do I doubt that you very much wish to get back out in the woods again—as much as you tolerate Elrond's house…well, you tolerate it."
"True."
"So I'm sure you'll be very relieved to get back on the road once more."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to get rid of me, you old wizard you?"
Gandalf laughed shortly. "Ah, but you would like that too much."
I shook my head, almost amused.
"The lord Elrond has summoned emissaries from our allies," the wizard continued. "He will convene a council tomorrow morning, and has asked that you attend." He raised an eyebrow and peered at me with one eye, expectant.
"Holy sh…the council of Elrond?" I said, a nauseous feeling suddenly appearing in my stomach. I stopped mid-path and stared at the leaf covered ground in a state of panic. "Okay, so there's another attempt to Sue me." I scowled.
"How do you mean?" Gandalf asked.
"It's trying to fricking Tenth Walker me!" I nearly yelled, glaring up at the old man—who of course wasn't fazed.
"It?"
"That valardammed Deep Magic!" I was really pissed now. I let out a scream, not even trying to muffle it. Who gave a fuck who heard me…damn Rivendell, with all of its hippy dippy peace and sunlight and laughter and life. Life was shit; I would know. Even Elrond was messing with my 'destiny'.
"Oh." Gandalf actually seemed a bit taken aback by my outburst, but didn't comment. It was then that I realized that I'd said all of that aloud. Instead of lecturing me, though, he took me more firmly by the arm and led me to a bench under a willow tree. It was cooler there, and suddenly I realized how tired I was. I collapsed rather unglamorously on the stone surface and grimaced, wished rock wasn't so friggin…well, rocky. I know, great thought process Marilyn. But it's not always possible for the best one-liners to come pouring out of one's mouth when in such crap circumstances.
And yes, 'crap' circumstances are relative. To some, my situation would have been a dream come true. GDIME'ed, prophecy concerning me and one future king of Gondor...all there was left to do was to is wait out the war, look good, enjoy the scenery, etcetera etcetera. Unfortunately for me I was born with a conscience, and couldn't willingly agree to let the fate of a world lay partially on my shoulders when by all rights, I shouldn't be involved at all.
In theory, it seems like laying aside a canonical plot when one is dropped into a fictional world would be easy—especially when there have already been so many changes without your input. It's easy to forget that guilt can be a big factor in your decision making process. I simply couldn't get over the fact that my ancestor—and now myself—destroyed the greatest love story of the third age of Middle-earth.
It wasn't just the guilt for Arwen and Aragorn: oh no. I felt the guilt for their son, Eldarion, and all of his descendants that would never be. I felt like a murderer, taking innocent lives before they could even begin. What kind of a person did a thing like that?
I was like a giant walking royalty abortion program, and the worst part was the patients didn't even realize what had happened to them.
Yeah, that was a fucking terrible analogy. But whatever.
With a long-suffering sigh, Gandalf cut in on my thoughts. "Must you always delve so deeply into the ethical conditions of your current reality? It gets a little dull."
"Dull?" I said bitterly, sweeping my bangs out of my eyes with the back of my hand. Then I sat up, suddenly very prim. "If you find my thought processes dull, please refrain from reading them—especially without permission. It is most discourteous." I tilted my chin upwards ever so slightly.
The wizard chuckled. "Those mood swings of yours really are rather entertaining," he said, smirking. I looked at him in shock. I hadn't meant to say or do any of those things…they had just come spilling out as if my mouth had been on auto-pilot.
"Fan-freaking-tastic," I sighed, slumping my shoulders. "What is up with that, anyway? Why do I jump between ME-speak and…well, my English? It's unsettling."
"Part of the process," Gandalf said nonchalantly. "Your Dunedain royal blood is showing through where your normal personality is lacking—wearing thin, you could say. It may happen more and more as the Magic takes hold."
I said nothing, instead staring at the ground almost blankly. "What do I do, Gandalf?" I said finally. "I want to get out of this place. I want to help save Middle-earth at the same time. I need to stay away from Aragorn, like REALLY BAD, but…"
"But part of you disagrees about that," the wizard finished ruefully. "Your mind is perpetually conflicted, my dear Marilyn, and unfortunately there is nothing you can do except let things fall where they will."
"How do you mean?" I asked, crossing my ankles.
"Let events unfold the way Fate now intends." With his gnarly brows furrowed, the Istari stared out over the golden-lit buildings of Imladris. "Unlike its more permanent counterpart Destiny, Fate is ever changeable, and subject to the strangest bouts of whim that could be imagined." He smiled. "Perhaps that's why it has so often been envisioned in an incarnate form."
"Have you ever seen it?" I asked, genuinely curious. Gandalf looked mildly confused. "Fate, incarnate."
Gandalf chuckled again. "No. No! The very idea is ludicrous. Fate, in a physical form? Nonsense."
As much as I tried, I couldn't stop from smirking. But I did turn my face away from Gandalf so he wouldn't see it. Of course, that didn't stop him from knowing. "Laughing now, are we? That is indeed a nice change."
He was right. I was laughing, for the first time since I could remember. I didn't know why, since the idea of Fate in a physical form was more terrifying then funny, but I couldn't help it. It had been so long since I had laughed out loud—long before I had come to Middle-earth—that I didn't even care what I was laughing at. It just felt nice.
Especially considering how much crap I had to deal with.
At these thoughts, my laughter tapered off. Gandalf seemed to know what I was thinking (big surprise) and set a fingerless gloved hand on my knee. "You have much to correct, if you are to succeed in any form of Fate you choose," he said solemnly. "Your Destiny has placed you here, but what you choose to do with the time that is given to you is your decision, and your decision alone." He cleared his throat. "However, there are a few things you need to do, if you are to succeed on any path you choose."
"Any those would be?"
Gandalf gave me a look. Yes, that look: the one with the one eyebrow raised and the 'I think you know what I mean, child' look.
"Oh, great."
"So I'm sorry. Really I am." It was two days later. I had been given more time to regain my strength, and I had used it wisely. Luckily, the Deep Magic was helping me in recovering. Already my sword arm was back up to par, I could shoot with relative ease, and I was able to stay on my feet with my usual energy. It felt good to be out of that drapey nightgown and back into my usual garb: pants, tunic/blouse combo thing, and tall boots. It was the best thing I'd felt in a long time to have my sword hanging on my hip again.
I was healthy, but I was unhappy. And it was because of those 'things' Gandalf had told me I must fix.
Aragorn…Aragorn. I didn't even know where to begin with him. So I had gone to Frodo first.
But what could I say, to restore his faith and trust in me?
"I didn't mean to say those things, I just…" I trailed off, looking at Frodo's sad blue eyes with a seriously painful feeling of regret. The last thing I'd wanted to do was hurt him. "I don't know who I am here, Frodo." Staring down at my hands, and the golden thread on my deep green sleeve, I swallowed dryly. "I don't know why I'm here, or what I could possibly have to give to this place. But I know that I want to help, in any way I can." I knelt before him. "And I promised to protect you."
"Protecting me means nothing, if you don't choose to fulfill the prophecy," Frodo said quietly.
I sighed, and rolled my eyes in agitation. "Frodo, I—"
"But I forgive you."
I looked up, surprised. "Excuse me?"
This was not what I was expecting. In my family, nobody just 'forgave' anyone. My mother could hold a grudge for ages—there were a couple I had given her that she was planning on taking to her grave. My father had even more with her that went both ways, and grudges with me. My entire family was a one big mess of grudges, and lies, and hatred.
What? I never said my home life was a happy one. It's pretty much shit, actually.
So when Frodo looked up at me with those big blue eyes and told me in all seriousness that he forgave me, it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
"I forgive you," Frodo said again, setting a hand on my shoulder. "Marilyn, you've sacrificed yourself for me—and my companions. You've proved yourself to be an admirable warrior and more: a friend." I felt my eyes smarting, and blinked quickly. "I know you don't understand who you are. I've seen that for myself. But, I think, with time, we can figure out who you are supposed to be."
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Have you been talking to Gandalf?"
Frodo broke into a grin. "Perhaps."
I grinned back, genuinely glad. Then I pursed my lips and tried to pull myself together. "Thank you, Frodo," I said, with a nod of my head. But I could feel that my eyes were still shining. "I look forward to it." I offered him my hand, and we shook on it.
"Hey," I added, reaching into my pant pocket. "There's something I want you to have for awhile. I get the feeling you might like it." I handed it to him.
Frodo stared at my iPod with a look of both confusion and interest. "What is it?" he asked, turning it over. My earbuds were tangled around the device haphazardly, dangling from his hands.
"Well," I said, taking it from him and correcting the carnage, "it's a device that plays music. Look." I put an earbud in one of his ears, and turned on the playlist I had selected.
Anybody care to guess what it was? Anybody?
Ah well. I won't spoil the surprise for you then. You'll find out soon enough.
Frodo's face lit up. "It's magic!" he proclaimed, big blue eyes shining.
"It's all yours, buddy."
To my surprise Frodo tackle-hugged me. I gave a short surprised laugh, and hugged him back.
Little did I know that on a balcony above me, two immortals were watching our reconciliation.
"I worry for her," Arwen had said, her ivory brow furrowed as she watched Frodo and I hug. Gandalf stood beside her, a stormcloud under his wide brimmed wizard's hat. "She has so much to bear, and so little knowledge of what lies in store."
"She knows more than you realize," Gandalf told her, leaning on his staff. "But, I too worry for the burdens she carries."
"She is strong," Arwen said. "And, if she can overcome her differences, she has Aragorn." She bit her lip, and sighed in a way that was borderline exasperation. "I just wish I knew what her quandary is! I wish to help. Marilyn is like a sister to me, both in her Destiny with Aragorn and in the pendants we wear."
"Your sentiments are well-placed," the wizard told the elf-maiden. "But her plight is not one you can assist her with. It is perhaps the simplest— and most complex—any woman can face. It is hers and hers alone to decide her course."
"And it is?"
Gandalf smirked down at us in the courtyard as Sam, Merry and Pippin came rushing in and joyously dog piled Frodo and I. "A man."
As long as I had hidden myself away from Aragorn in my previous time in Rivendell, never before had I had difficulty in finding him. Not that I'd spent much time looking before, but now I had something to make right.
I wasn't about to tell him I loved him. That would have been a lie; I didn't love him…or at least not enough to warrant my telling him otherwise. I needed to apologize, not renege.
Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one able to hide myself away when I didn't want to be found.
I was an excellent and proved tracker. But the names bestowed on Aragorn weren't in vain: Wingfoot was especially accurate. He walked exceptionally lightly, leaving almost no trace upon the ground when in the woods. Any ordinary tracker wouldn't have seen his trail at all. I myself could barely pick it up out there, and in the busy dwelling of Lord Elrond, with all of the household traffic of an elven court, it was nearly hopeless.
The one upside? There were people to ask.
But even after several hours of searching, no one had seen him around. Finally, one of the gardeners told me that she'd seen him with Elrond in the West Orchard. So, following the only real lead I'd had all day, I made my way there.
I'd only made it as far as the Armory when I came across the voices of the Lord and his foster son, coming towards me from the opposite direction of the passage. When I heard them, I ducked to one side of the hall and hid behind an available tapestry (available because no one else was hiding behind it, and no one saw me hiding either.)They came around the corner, talking together with their heads lowered. They walked past me and I watched their backs carefully. I thought myself pretty awesome and stealth ninja, until they suddenly stopped in their tracks. Then, I heard the voice of Elrond call out softly:
"You can come out now."
I didn't reply, hoping he was talking to someone else, and held my breath.
I heard Aragorn sigh deeply. "Marilyn, we can see the toes of your boots. Your game is up."
I scowled. "Damn it." So much for stealth ninja. I stepped out from behind the tapestry with my hand on my sword hilt. Both Aragorn and Elrond turned around to face me, mildly amused expressions on both of their faces. That was a good sign.
"I was looking for you," I told the Ranger. "I thought we should talk."
Before Aragorn could argue, Elrond cut in. "Yes, I rather think you should," he said, in his authoritative 'I am Hugo Weaving, do not mess with me boy' tone of voice. He gave Aragorn a stern look, which was of course only made more serious by the way his eyebrows threatened to become a unibrow during the execution of that look. I would have sniggered, if the situation weren't actually real.
Feel free to snigger at the mental image. I wouldn't want it to be wasted.
Aragorn said nothing, but bowed slightly at the waist in an acknowledging way. I tipped my head as well.
Having finished knitting a sweater with his facial features, Elrond turned away. "Very well. I trust I will see you both at the feast to greet our guests. They have travelled far to join in council with us." He swooped off down the hall in his majestic robes, leaving Aragorn and I standing together awkwardly.
Of course there had to be a terrifically long silence, which I eventually broke with an extremely intelligent:
"Soooooo…"
I coughed, and looked around at anything but him. "About what I said earlier—or, well, a few days ago." I fiddled with my belt buckle.
"Yes." Aragorn kept his voice very level.
"I um, have a lot to work through," I said, not looking up. "And ah…" I clenched my fists, and forced my head up. "I think you're right."
"I am?" He looked mildly confused, but then grew irritated. "Pardon me for not understanding the reference here; but just what was I right about?"
"Back in the alcove," I told him, lifting my gaze till I was looking him square in the eye. "You told me that I couldn't handle the truth. Now, as comical as that very statement sounds, I—"
"I fail to see how it was comical at all!" Aragorn said, now outright angry. "It was not said in jest, nor is it to be taken as such."
"God, hold your horses!" I snapped, holding my hands up. "And let me finish my valardammed sentence! Weren't you ever taught not to interrupt a lady?" I shook my head. "Fuck, you overreact like my mother."
Aragorn looked around quickly, too irritated to be considered nervous. "With language like that, we should take this outside," he told me gruffly.
"Oooh, I'm scared now!" I mocked, holding up my hands in sarcastic defeat. "We're taking it outside, like big men!" With a growl, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the hallway. "Hey! Lemme go, you big old—"
"Quiet!" He ordered me, covering my mouth with a hand. I immediately licked his hand like any sensible person would, because covering someone's mouth is plain rude—and licking them immediately becomes fair game. He pulled his hand away with a disgusted look.
"HA!" I pointed a finger at him in triumph. "The Ranger is defeated by a tongue! This is a day for the history books!"
Aragorn glared. "You are incorrigible, and have the maturity of an adolescent!" he told me, marching off down a path towards the gardens. Well, 'towards the gardens' is a loose term in Rivendell. Practically half of the place is gardens.
"Well you're bossy!" I snapped back, trailing after him. "And eavesdrop on people! And then, take everything you hear personally! Just because I say some shit after I wake up from a coma doesn't mean—"
"So you take it back then?" he said, turning around abruptly to face me. Our faces were about six inches apart, and we stood practically toe-to-toe. His light blue eyes seemed to drill into me, demanding an answer.
For a moment, I wanted to change my reply. I knew what I intended to answer, and wanted it to be different; wanted to say what he wanted to hear.
And then, like a flash, the feeling was gone.
"No. No, I don't," I said, and felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as a light drained out of his eyes.
Well, shit. This conversation is going awesome already.
I can't WAIT to see how it ends.
Can you?
Yeah, I thought so.
CLIFFIE! BWAHAHAHA. Who loves me now?
Reviews get virtual cookies, a response AND a dedication in the next chapter. Au Revoir!
