Turning Tables

A/N: I apologize for any errors in this—it's like 3AM but I had to post it. I'll fix everything ASAP. For now, enjoy!

"I can't get your hair right if you keep moving," Damon warned, and Bonnie huffed as she bit back a smile. "You are seriously the worst canvas in the history of ever."

"Well, if you were as good as an artist as you claimed to be, you'd be done by now, and my moving wouldn't be an issue," she teased, as Damon rolled his eyes and continued to sketch in his book. "Seriously—hurry up. I wanna see this 'masterpiece.'"

"You can't rush perfection," Damon sang. "Think about how long it took Leonardo DaVinci to paint the Mona Lisa."

"Oh, so you're comparable to Da Vinci, now?" Bonnie asked with wide eyes. "What happened to the humble guy who 'kinda, sorta' knew how to sketch?"

"He had an epiphany. He realized that he's actually pretty damn awesome at this."

"So just show me already, Damon!"

"Pft, I'm not showing you a damn thing. Problematic models get zilch around these parts," he smiled.

Bonnie growled playfully as she hopped off of the window seat, donned only in Damon's dress favorite shirt, and skipped over towards him, as he sat atop their king size bed, with a pencil in hand as he glided it across the paper to mark the finishing touches.

"Let me see it. I promise I won't make fun of it. If it's good."

"Comforting," Damon replied and Bonnie grinned. "You're really good with your words," he said sarcastically.

Bonnie snatched the sketch pad out of Damon's hand and gazed longingly at the picture that he'd drawn of her, just moments before as she stared outside the window. It'd been a persistent request of hers that he draw her, since finding out that Damon was a bit of an artist back during his high school and college days, long before taking on accounting.

He forever discounted it as a hobby, though she knew he was still very much into it, because she'd often seen him drawing in a sketch book during his lazy days on the couch, though he never allowed her to glance at the things he had penned.

Drawing was like a journal for him, he explained; it was "stupid," and "time consuming," but it was his, and though Bonnie would have loved to see his creations, she always respected his privacy in the end, because she respected him.

So when Damon finally agreed to this, she was ecstatic; because it felt like they'd finally reached a new phase in their marriage, and she couldn't be happier about it. He was letting her see all of him, through his work, and it was pretty endearing.

It almost made her forget the regular distance that was in between them every single time he had to go away; it always made him remember just how in love with her he was, each time she let out a laugh or a smile, when he scowled in her direction.

The miles were hard, but they vowed that they'd make it through. They needed to make it through, no matter what.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, as he watched her fingers dragging across the paper, before he nervously cleared his throat. "It's not my best work—"

"Oh wow, your humility; I almost forgot what that sounded like," she joked as she looked up, and the sunlight shined in her eyes. "I love it, Damon. I really love this."

Damon's grin formed when he noted the honesty in her voice and he let out a sigh.

"I knew you would."

"Oh, shut up," she said, as she hit his arm, and glanced back down at the picture again.

She studied the way he'd easily captured her dark waves of hair, as they rolled off of her shoulders, and contrasted it with the glaze in her light eyes. Her mouth was upturned into somewhat of a smile as she gazed out the window beside her, and her smooth legs were extended across the seat with such natural poise, no one would have believed that Damon adjusted her that way nearly five times before he gave up; realizing that Bonnie was way too excited for him to sketch her to even sit still.

The picture was beautiful—nothing less than breathtaking—and the only thing that made her happier than the fact that it'd turned out so well was that he'd done it not only for her, but for himself as well.

Because this was the way that he saw Bonnie; slender and delicate, but bold and self-assured. And he'd captured it all in just one simple freehand sketch. She could only imagine the outcome if he'd actually sat down to paint her.

"So, you like it?" Damon asked, as she studied the drawing again. "I mean, I know you're an art buff and all, so you can be truthful about it if you want to."

"The truth is that I'm happy," Bonnie looked up, as she finally placed the sketch down on the night table, and met his eyes. "I'm… really happy you're here. Even if it's just for a few days."

Damon nodded sweetly before he moved in and placed a soft kiss to her ear. His mouth lingered as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and breathed in the sweet scent of his favorite cologne.

"I'm happy to be here with you," he whispered before his mouth slid to hers and he spoke directly onto her lips. "And you, too," Damon added, as his hand brushed along her stomach.

Bonnie let out an exhale when he did; her hands captured his fingers as she pulled them away from her skin.

"It's… not official yet, Damon," she reminded him. "I haven't even taken a pregnancy test."

"I know, but you said you're late, so it's wishful thinking… We've been trying. A lot—"

"I know, I was there," she reminded him and Damon smiled. "But just because we've been 'working' towards this doesn't mean that we're successful yet. And I don't want you to get your hopes up if I take another one and it's negative. Again."

Damon huffed at that as he smoothed back her hair and met Bonnie's eyes.

"Fine. I will be patient. Because you're asking me to."

"Careful, Damon," she warned as she followed his gaze. "I might actually get used to that."

"Fine by me," he said, as his fingers drifted down towards the button of her shirt, as he never evaded her eyes. "But you should probably get used to this, too."

Bonnie let out laugh when he slammed her down onto the bed and attacked her lips with a kiss that made her heart flutter. She clutched his face as his hands glided over her stomach, and Bonnie giggled softly when Damon bit her lip before his fingers tickled her sides.

"What are you doing?" she asked between laughs before looking at the clock and then meeting his eyes. "We promised Klaus we'd be up for lunch in a half hour. You know how he gets when people are late."

"Yeah, he lets out all his English curses, they're funny," Damon smirked as Bonnie continued to laugh. "I think I take a special joy in provoking him, sometimes."

"So is that what this is about?" she asked. "Provoking your best friend?"

"Of course not. It's about this," Damon kissed her neck, "And this," he kissed her jaw, "Oh and certainly this," he finalized when his mouth pressed to hers.

Bonnie's lips hummed with satisfaction as Damon engulfed them, before she finally pulled his arms through his t-shirt and tossed it to the floor. Damon effortlessly guided her up and onto his lap—quickly pulling her arms out of the dress shirt as well—and she stopped his mouth with her index before he could capture her again.

Damon instantly looked into her eyes.

"I love you," she said, as she felt his hands plant at her sides and give her skin an appreciative little squeeze. "I know that I say that a lot but—"

"It never gets old. Trust me," he winked before she grinned and he kissed her lips again. "I love you, too."

Bonnie smirked as she pulled her lips away from his and Damon groaned when she slid out of his advances and hopped to her feet at the side of the bed.

"And it's because you love me, you're gonna get your ass dressed and ready for lunch. Don't be a dick to the only other person who likes you besides me and your brother," she waved a finger and Damon rolled his eyes playfully as he rested on his knees and looked over towards her.

"There's no changing your mind, is there?"

"Honey—you married a Taurus. Get used to it."

Bonnie shot out of bed with a bit of a gasp as she looked awoke from her dream; heart pounding, head racing, and breath quickened as she looked around the hotel room to see Damon on the couch across the room.

Her brow rose when she watched him close the book before him abruptly and she leaned against the pillow as he looked up into her eyes.

"Hey," she said uneasily, and Damon cleared his throat almost silently before responding.

"Hey."

"What, uh…What are you doing?" Bonnie asked curiously, as she watched him stand to his feet and tuck the book back into his suitcase across the room. "Besides watching me sleep?"

"It's nothing," Damon replied. "I was just up, early—so I decided to be proactive. I didn't sleep much, last night."

"I'm shocked," Bonnie said, as she looked into his eyes. "After such an eventful night you had, I figured you'd need an entire month to recover."

"Who needs a month when I promised you fun today?" he asked as his hands landed at his sides. "You're still up for that, right? You said it was what you wanted."

"That was before you ditched me to go out drinking with two kids and lovely woman who's so intent on wedging herself between us," Bonnie stated firmly and Damon sighed. "Now I'm not so sure."

"So, let me change your mind," he answered, as he took a step in, and sat at the edge of the king sized bed. "Look, Bonnie, I am really sorry about last night, because I let you down. And I know how it seems—"

"Bad. Really bad," she interjected.

"Let me make it up to you. Please? I owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything," she said furiously, as she grabbed her sweater that hung off the mattress and slipped her arms through it before putting on her sweatpants. "I don't want that."

"What do you want then?"

"I wanna be happy, Damon," she replied instantly as he looked into her eyes and she let out a soft sigh. "Like… I was in the dream I just had… About you. You drew me and we were… happy. We talked going out to lunch… and art… and kids—"

"I remember that," he said, as he slid in gently and Bonnie looked up into his eyes with a silent stare. "I remember everything, Bonnie. You know I do—"

"So do you keep hurting me?" she asked bluntly, as he chewed at his lips and looked down at the comforter. "I mean—what did I do wrong? Did I do something to hurt you, Damon—something you're not telling me about? Because I want to fix this; I really do. And you know I will tough it out for you, but—"

"You deserve better," he said delicately, as he looked up into her eyes and Bonnie's were lined with tears. "You know you do, Bonnie… I know you do."

There was no hint of a sound between them as Bonnie fidgeted with her hands as she looked at him; desperate to hold on to this because she'd quite literally vowed to.

There wasn't ever a time when she didn't want this.

"Damon—I know this is hard. We knew that this would be hard," she said, as she inched in and placed both hands on his cheeks. "But I'm not looking for anything more than some fight, okay? I just want you to fight for this—like I've been fighting. I know you want to—"

"But what if I can't, anymore?" he asked, and Bonnie immediately felt a lump in her throat grow the minute the words passed his lips; they almost sounded foreign upon her ears. "What if I can't be who I ought to be anymore—"

"You can do it if you want to, Damon," she said firmly as she looked into his eyes and tugged at her lip. "I can keep moving forward; I can let go of all of the bad things that have happened—"

"But you shouldn't have to. I don't want you to, Bonnie… I don't want you to lose what I love about you; I don't want you to be weak for me."

"So, what are you saying? That I'm the problem?"

"I'm saying that I think we need some time apart. Completely. To… go back to being the people we both fell in love with."

Bonnie stared at him, stunned, as her hands dropped from his face and onto her lap. Damon's eyes remained rather emotionless as he continued to watch her; screaming on the inside because this was the last thing that he wanted, though he knew that he had no options left.

He was losing Bonnie to everything he knew she didn't want to be and that wasn't okay.

And he was also losing himself.

Bonnie, who had once been a feisty spitfire, was nothing more than absorbent cloth for all of his fuck-ups. She was bending in a way that was admirable, yes, but it was also breaking her. And he knew she knew it.

Because there was only so much shit one person should have to deal with.

Especially when he was the cause of all of that. This wasn't the Bonnie he'd fell in love with—but merely a shell of herself. And the harder he forced the memories of their love—and the reality of his screw-ups—into her life, the worse off they would really be.

Bonnie Bennett deserved better; far better than him. And he hoped in letting her go, she knew that.

He hoped that she knew he was doing this because he loved her. And he couldn't stand to be the one who was hurting her; especially with the NYPD now on his case about investigating her.

This was just a bad time to be in love. Maybe they could benefit from being apart.

Or maybe they would crumble—totally and completely, after all.

Both alternatives were better than Bonnie Bennett becoming his emotional punching bag.

Damon rose from his seat as he felt a twist form in his stomach; a dark pit, as the hollowness in his chest began to expand to the rest of his body, before it truly felt like there was nothing but the throbbing pain in his head left.

Was this what it felt like to break your own heart? If so, how many pills would it take for him to feel better?

"So, this is it?" Bonnie asked, as he stopped in his tracks and curled a tight fist while he faced the door. "We just… throw away everything that we fought so hard to keep over these past few months?" she asked, and Damon didn't respond. "Because I could have died, Damon. I lost my memories—I almost lost you, and now you're saying that means nothing… That you're quitting because we're hurting—"

"I'm quitting because I love you," he said as he spun around and Bonnie's lips trembled as he met her eyes. "I'm quitting because I don't want you to fight for this. Not for me, not for anything. What we've become is so fucked up from what we used to be—"

"And you're saying you don't want to find that again?" she asked angrily, as she shot to her feet and neared his body. "You're saying you'd rather leave then take your chances!"

"I'm saying that maybe I have to go so that you can learn to respect yourself, Bonnie! Because clearly—you've become way too accustomed to me disrespecting you. When the fuck are you going to start standing up for you? You're fighting right now for somebody who treats you like he doesn't even care!"

Bonnie's hand landed hard against Damon's cheek and he ticked his jaw as the radiating sting echoed through his skin and easily up to his jaw.

He didn't have to see her eyes again to know that they were streaming with tears as they fell onto her cheeks while she furiously wiped them away with her palms.

Damon listened on as Bonnie began to cry softly and the sound of her movements quickened as she shuffled around the room and began to gather her things. He rubbed his hand against his skin as he watched her throwing things in a suitcase, but his stance never faltered.

She wasn't going to give up on him if he told her to—he had to make her hate him. He had to find a way out of being the one Bonnie would foolishly lay it all out on the line for, when he had only continuously done her wrong. He had to find a way to get Bonnie back to the woman she used to be—who didn't put up with this shit, no matter how much she loved him; because she knew standing her ground was what made him change his ways.

But most importantly, he had to be apart from her—because he wanted no part in spying on her for whatever asinine reason the NYPD thought they had to investigate her, and the only way he could get them to count him out was if he and Bonnie were no longer together. And knowing that they had nobody else who was close to her that they wanted to do it, he hoped that he was halting whatever it was in its tracks.

Because when it came to criminals in this relationship, he was the only one. There was no way he'd ever agree to do something like that to her.

"Bonnie," Damon said softly as he watched her re-pack her suitcase and kneel down to zip it shut. "You have to understand—"

"I heard you loud and clear," she replied with blazing eyes and a staggered tone. "You don't like me anymore; you think I'm pathetic—"

"No, I don't… But I don't think that you know what you're worth… It's not—"

"You, it's me?" she finished. "That's original."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Bonnie."

"Of course you did! It's why you just now said all of those things, right? Because standing by your side doesn't make me strong to you? Because wanting to support you means I don't have any self-respect? Yeah, Damon; you did exactly what you meant to do…And at this point? I'm not even surprised that I ever filed for a divorce."

Damon licked his teeth at that as he watched her pack her bag and he sighed.

Just because he wanted this didn't really mean that he wanted it.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Back to Mystic Falls… I can start looking for somewhere else to stay; maybe I can get an apartment."

"You don't have to leave, Bonnie," Damon replied as she shook her head. "I don't want that."

"But you wanted this, Damon—you want to be apart. So, please—enlighten me on what I should do since you always know best?" she asked sarcastically.

He ticked his jaw.

"I'm going to move out," he said as Bonnie's brows furrowed and he placed both hands into his pockets. "I'm… going to leave and you'll have the house. You can keep it. I'll stay somewhere else."

"No," she answered sharply. "It's your house, Damon."

"It's our home, Bonnie; the both of us. Last I checked… you were on the deed too. And I—if I'm going to be the one, going through with all of this, then maybe I can do the right thing by not forcing you to leave and start all over again. I don't want to make this any harder than it is."

"I'd believe that if you were actually making it easier," she said, before finally pulling her bag to the door, despite Damon's best efforts to carry it for her. "I'll find another a room to stay in until I can book a flight out of here."

Damon pursed his lips as she swung the door open, and he immediately grabbed the bouquet of blood red roses from the table. His face remained stoic as he waved them in her direction. Bonnie's eyes narrowed.

"Don't forget these. They're… nice," he said painfully at the thought of another man sending her flowers.

"Keep them," she said flatly, as her fingers loitered on the door knob; her body straightening even more so than before as she looked into his eyes and wiped away any trace of her last tears. "Maybe it'll be a good tool for you; a cheat sheet—for when you move onto the next woman. You'll know exactly what to do."

Damon didn't move an inch as she slammed the door.

Another man doing everything for Bonnie that he'd ought to have been doing; he couldn't say that he was surprised.

Just shocked at the fact that she hadn't known her potential sooner.

XXXXX

"Good job, on that last move. But instead of grabbing at the shoulders, let's try the waist. Okay?"

Elena nodded furiously before clearing her throat and inhaling a bout of air. She extended her arms to loosen up her joints a little bit, before shaking free the tension within her bones.

"I'm ready," she confirmed. "Go for it."

The brunette closed her eyes tightly, as she felt his footsteps approach her slowly, from behind. Beyond her lids, she imagined the look of determination on his face, as he contemplated a way to trip her up—to cloud the clarity within her head—while they continued on with the self-defense lessons as if things were perfectly fine between them.

As if things had been perfectly normal.

Klaus hadn't said anything about the night before since coming into her room, and waking her up—asking if she still wanted to practice—so she quietly agreed to his inquiry and they got right back to it; as if nothing had happened.

She didn't know if she was grateful for that or not.

Elena was removed from her thoughts when she felt Klaus grabbed her firmly at the waist, and she immediately adapted and reacted with the moves he'd taught her; twisting her arms and legs forcefully, to get a better grip of her makeshift attacker, just as he had instructed her.

"Grip harder," he instructed into her ear, as her fingers clawed at his thigh. "As if you're actually trying to hurt someone."

"I don't want to hurt you," Elena said in a breathy tone, and Klaus only scoffed at that before whipping her around and pushing her against a wall.

Elena's eyes widened as she swallowed hard and met his eyes; he stood less than a hair away.

"Do you think your attacker would have the same consideration?" he asked.

After a moment of silence she sighed and shook her head "no."

"No. No, he wouldn't."

"Then you need to become ruthless, Elena. You have to be relentless in your efforts," Klaus replied, as she breathed and continued to follow the veracity in his eyes. "Worry less about hurting me and more about how he can hurt you. Alright?"

Elena let out a sigh before nodding and Klaus slowly wrapped his fingers at her throat; his hand holding her firmly against the wall, but not too painfully, as to where he could hurt her. Strongly enough, though, as her body remained frozen in its place, and she could feel her heart pounding out of her chest with a renewed sense of anxiety.

She bit her lip and Klaus met her eyes again when he slightly increased his pressure before speaking in an even tone, and commanding her attention.

"He goes for the throat, and you do what, Elena?"

"Go for the eyes," she remembered. "You find a way to go for the eyes."

"Then do it," he dared, as he continued to press her towards the wall, and Elena swallowed hard firm instruction. "Go for it, Elena. Go for the eyes."

Elena didn't move as her chocolate brown orbs flicked up to meet his and Klaus blinked silently, in return; the feeling of everything from last night floating between them, though neither dared to talk about it or even acknowledge it.

There'd just been so many words that Rebekah said—about her, about him, about what she had done—that Elena, nor Klaus, knew where to start first. Everything was out in the open, and yet, it wasn't. With just as many words unreleased, there were just as many left unsaid, and it was taunting them both.

It was ruining them, too.

"What are you waiting for?" Klaus asked a bit impatiently, as he looked into Elena's eyes—thinly masking the source of his previous frustration. "Elena—"

She leaned in without another word from her lips and kissed him strongly; her lips melting against his own and his hand gently floating away from her neck, as he instantly— though frustratingly—kissed her back.

Elena's mouth easily formulated over his—just as it had, last night—and Klaus' hands gripped her at the sides while her back pressed to the wall. If anyone was to walk in on this moment, they'd believe she hadn't been kissed in months—possibly years—because that was how Klaus made her feel.

He made her body melt and her skin tingle with each maddening kiss from his lips to hers, she was nothing and everything that he wanted, all at once.

She was his enigma.

Elena eased in an aching sigh as her tongue continued to find its way over his—lapping up each taste of his resentment, exhaustion, and annoyance with her; just as she expected it to be.

Except in the midst of that, there were hints of passion—and fever—as his fingers desperately formed at her sides and he pressed his tongue in deeper; faster, as she struggled to catch her breath but actively kept up.

He didn't want to kiss her, but he was going to anyway. He had to experience what it felt like to play with fire.

He wanted to taste Elena Gilbert's poison.

Klaus pulled away first after his mind finally realized the impact of the kiss, and he shook his head irritably. Elena placed her fingers to the burn in her lips and didn't say a word.

"What the hell are you doing exactly?" he asked bluntly, as he peered into her eyes. "First at Marquee, now again? I'll have you know that it didn't work the first time for a reason."

"And I didn't need for it to 'work' just now," she informed lowly. "I just—I needed to—"

"Why?" he cut in, with a red hot stare and curled fists as she tugged at her lip. "You needed to make yourself feel better after Rebekah's accusations last night? I'm not your fucking Band-Aid, Elena. I'm a human being."

"I know that you aren't," she replied as she stepped in. "And I—I know that you don't believe her. Because if you did, you wouldn't be here; you would have left, and I know it."

Klaus was silent for a moment as he took in a breath before opening his mouth to reply.

"Just because I don't believe her doesn't mean that I believe you."

"And you shouldn't; because I lied too. I did," she nodded, as she stepped in. "I fucked up, so bad, and I don't have any idea how to fix it. I don't think I can fix it; and I've come to terms with that."

"So it's true, then? You conspired to ruin Damon and Bonnie's marriage?"

"Not exactly," she said as her hands brushed against her hair and Klaus stared into her eyes. "It's just… I can't talk about this, Klaus—I'm sorry—"

"Then why am I listening to this? What are you telling me that's different than what she said last night? Because you realize you've done nothing to plead your case—"

"Because I don't deserve to," she replied, as Klaus narrowed his eyes. "I betrayed them, Klaus—Damon and Bonnie; my best friends. I screwed things up. I caused a huge fucking mess—"

"Do you love him?" Klaus asked as he stared into her eyes and Elena licked her teeth as he expanded his question. "Do you love Damon, so much, and Bonnie so little that you're happy to stand by what you considered doing? What did accomplish, exactly?"

"Nothing," she breathed as she stepped in. "I accept responsibility, Nik, but I didn't formally step up and do anything. I just knew—"

"Who, then?" he asked as she trembled. "Was it Stefan? It's him, isn't it?"

"I didn't—"Elena started and stopped; realizing her words were tripping over her lips before she was even getting to chance to figure them out. "Nik—"

"If he's hurt you, I advise that you say so immediately, Elena," he said in a darkened tone. "Because I won't stand for that; even if he is my best friend's brother. I—"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door as Klaus never dropped the vehemence in his eyes and Elena breathed as she watched him walk towards it; his eyes growing to the size of saucers once he swung it open and the two men standing before him in navy blue uniforms eyed them both intently before one cleared his throat.

Klaus stood completely still as he removed his shades and hooked them on his shirt.

Elena felt her stomach do back flips as she silently watched on.

"Are you Niklaus Mikaelson?" the tanned man asked.

"The one and only, sir. What seems to be the problem?"

"I'm Officer Daniels—this is my partner, Officer Kendall. We… are here to inform you of some bad news," he said as he flashed his badge and Klaus' jaw ticked.

He clapped his hands together after glancing at Elena slightly before he looked back into their eyes.

"Well, let's hear it; it's not like I haven't been having the best morning ever, anyway," he said sarcastically, while he studied the two NYPD officers. "What is it that you've got to tell me?"

"I'm… so sorry that I have to be the one to bring the news to you, Mr. Mikaelson," Officer Kelly started, and Elena immediately found herself at Klaus' side by the doorway, as she inspected the two men's eyes. "But we're here to inform you that your cousin—Rebekah Mikaelson—has passed away. We've already contacted her mother and her father to give them the news, but we were told by the hotel staff that she had a relative here; one who could identify the body."

Klaus didn't say a word as the news seemingly traveled into his ears and out of his body, as he didn't even move a muscle.

He stood completely still in the doorframe as Elena's hands covered her mouth and she faced him; his expression never changing as the seconds floated on. Elena swallowed hard as her hands escaped her mouth and she took hold of his.

His hand was as cold as ice.

"Rebekah is dead?"

A/N: Hey, all! So a shorter chapter than usual, but nonetheless, effective I hope? I didn't want to squeeze too much in before diving to the rest of the story (part II, basically) so I hope you are all mad, and angry, and fuming enough to cuss me out for ending it this way. Seriously. I'm sorry. But there was a happy moment, right? Damon and Bonnie's flashback that Bonnie had… until Damon dropped a bombshell and basically asked for a separation. What do you think about his reasons? Was he right or wrong to do that? How do you think things will change from here on out? Was he right about Bonnie becoming someone she wasn't supposed to be? SIGH. Damon hasn't asked for a DIVORCE, I should say. But they aren't going to be together. For now. That's all I'll say about that. Now. What about Klaus nearly figuring Elena out with the Stefan thing and then BOMBSHELL—Rebekah is dead? How? Why? What happens next and do you think this will distract him? I'm all ears!

As always, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING. I'm sorry if updates are slow or I may not be taking things in a certain direction some of you like/expected but hey—writing does that. Sometimes you have to go with the flow. ANYWAY.

Read, review, rant, as usual. I read everything. Love you all and ta-ta for now!