Hi everyone!

Whew... This was an emotionally draining chapter to write... I think I cried at the end... Call me sentimental...

Here is the third and final part of the Theo scene... I really enjoy writing him and it was awesome, as well, to write a physical description of Eve from an outsider's point-of-view...

Anyway, enjoy the drama!

Diclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments!

Theo descended the massive stone staircase two steps at a time, his brown eyes focused unwaveringly on the front door. He had cringed away from the top of the banister when he saw the marble angel statuette – the one that held the Mortal Cup. It had made him think momentarily of his sister, Jada, of the look on her face when she had sworn to him that Valentine Morgenstern would never betray her, and the thought had made his stomach turn.

He shrugged his damp clothes closer around his body and shivered. Being in this place – this monster's den – for even a few minutes was nauseating. How could anyone live in this cold, unwelcoming place for any length of time without going totally insane?

He reached the bottom of the staircase in a flash, meaning to storm across the foyer to the door, but to Theo's dismay, his wet shoes slipped once he reached the gleaming marble floor, and his hand shot out instinctively, to grip the thick, chiseled banister. He waited a quick, teetering moment against the staircase to steady himself, then took a deep breath. Theo guessed that it would have been less than noble considering the circumstances to skid across the foyer and directly faceplant into Valentine's pristinely polished front door: it hardly would have shown his sister that he was a mature young man, a man whose opinions were developed and sophisticated. A man whose opinions should be valued.

Another deep breath later, he flicked his black hair away from his face and stood tall. Pain throbbed against his heart like ocean waves.

He had wished that Jada would have come with him, left this place, returned to Argyle, had taken the happiness she deserved… but he had not totally expected her to: not right away. His sister was a stubborn woman: a trait which usually worked to protect her from emotional harm. But this time, Theo confessed, she was being stubborn in all the wrong ways – and it was going to hurt her far more than she knew…

God, if he was only brave enough, he would have gladly plunged a dagger through Valentine's heart for what he was doing to Jada… But Theo wasn't a fool. He knew who would come out victorious if he dared to challenge Valentine Morgenstern to a fight… He knew it would mean his death…

Defeated, Theo turned towards the majestic set of double doors, moving to leave, until a voice stopped him.

"Theo?" someone called. "Theo?"

The voice was lovely, soft, feminine – familiar, but not his sister's. He revolved to face the staircase once more, and stared.

A beautiful figure came and descended down the staircase like an angel – and Theo recognized the rippling golden curls and the pale ivory skin immediately. It was the girl that Jada had introduced him to before, the girl in the foyer.

Eve.

She was delicate, he thought – both in body and features – in a way that was unlike any other woman he had met. She was average height, perhaps, but elegant and slender. Every flowing step that she took towards him had the grace of a ballet. "Theo?" she continued, crossing the immaculate foyer. "Are you leaving already?"

She truly was a beauty, he decided as Eve neared. She had the face of a porcelain doll, with those high cheekbones, those round blue eyes, that soft nose, that pretty mouth. Her eyes were flecked with the same gold as her hair, he saw once she came close – like sapphires studded with precious metal – framed by long, silvery eyelashes. She was wearing a simple, knee-length dress that matched the dark color in her irises perfectly, and it wrapped around the gentle curves of her body like a stream of rippling water.

"I thought it was appropriate time to go," Theo answered politely.

A gentle smile curled her lips, but her eyes seemed helplessly sad. "Did… you have a pleasant visit with your sister?" Eve asked.

Theo glanced away from her, his throat tight. "Unfortunately," he replied slowly. "Not as pleasant as I had expected."

She didn't press him for an explanation, which Theo was grateful for. Sympathy seeped into the expression in her eyes, and Theo wondered how much of the story she knew. A moment of silence stretched out between them until Eve spoke. "I am very sorry to hear that," she told him in a low, kind voice. "Do you think… you will be able to reconcile with her before you leave?"

"No." Theo swallowed his anxiety. "I doubt it," he said.

Eve nodded – and the silence that followed seemed to stretch out for an eternity. Theo glanced down into Eve's lowered eyes, and then her gaze flicked up to meet his. Meekly, Eve smiled at him: and the gesture was as warm and sweet as a summer afternoon.

"I hope… you don't intend to leave here angry," she offered shyly, averting her gaze. "I'm sure… that Jada would not want you to leave here angry… She seems to love you very much, Theo."

He smiled despite himself. Somehow, that docile look on Eve's pretty face, her serenity, was contagious.

He sighed deeply.

"Yes…" he replied. "Yes, I suppose you are right…" Without thinking too much about it, Theo offered his arm to Eve and glanced toward the grand doorway. "Perhaps some fresh air will do me some good… Walk with me?" he asked openly.

There was a moment where Eve seemed totally surprised by the offer. She moved away from him tightly, as if to say no, but then she took a second's pause and accepted his gesture with perfect grace. Eve let him lead her outside without a protest, despite the chill that fluttered in the outside air.

The weather had dramatically improved since the last time he had been outside. Dark clouds laced the brightening Idrisian sky, but at least it wasn't pouring rain like it had been ten minutes before. Theo remembered the ride to the Manor with ominous dread, when there had been nothing between him and the elements but his thin clothing. Each drop of rain had felt like a sharpened knife blade on his skin…

They walked in comfortable silence – he and Eve – around the perimeter of the sprawling Manor, until they reached the back of the building. Vast, meticulously trimmed gardens spread along a number of stone pathways, although the gardens weren't much to see at that time. Early spring was on the horizon, but the twilight of winter hadn't entirely dispelled yet. Other than the pine-green shrubs framing the paths, a scarce amount of color had bloomed in the gardens.

He led her to a pale stone bench, framed by dark ivy, and then realized belatedly that it was useless. Rainwater had puddled on the seat; and he could hardly expect Eve to sit down with him there like he had planned. Absently, Eve reached out a hand and fingered an ivy leaf at the side of the bench, curiosity running across her features like a breeze. His eyes traced the profile of her face in awe, as if she was an elaborate, well-crafted painting. There was no word it seemed – in Italian or English – that could quite sum up the magnetic beauty of this one girl. Her eyes danced with intrigue like candle flames.

"The grounds aren't usually this plain," she told him with a gentle smile. "In the summer, this place comes alive with color. The gardens really are magnificent… But I suppose," she added timidly. "… you wouldn't really believe that, seeing it the way it is now…"

For some reason, Theo felt inclined to believe anything this young woman said to him: if she told him that elephants were purple and the size of a small housecat, he probably would not have tried to doubt her logic.

"No," he answered sincerely, glancing about the scene. "I can imagine it becomes very beautiful here in the right season."

In truth, he had always had an interest in the gardens at home – so any garden to him had good aesthetic value. Plants, he found, were blessedly simple organisms; if you treated them well, they were healthy and beautiful and strong. If you didn't treat them well, they shriveled up and died. Simple.

If only humans were so logical.

"Eve, forgive me for asking," Theo began, keeping conversation flowing. "But …are you a guest here?"

Something sparked in her eyes for a second, and then she nodded. "Yes," she replied. "My father is a very good friend of Valentine Morgenstern's. He has been very gracious in letting me stay here…"

"And do… you enjoy being here?"

Eve's face lit up. "Oh, yes! Of course! … It is wonderful here…" She seemed to catch herself then, and the light in her face faded away, replaced with a look of guilt. "Forgive me," she slowly said then. "You… don't like it here, do you? I could tell – you ...seemed to be in such a hurry to leave… I'm sorry…"

Theo was baffled. Why should someone have to apologize for stating their opinion? It was truly a strange concept…

Gently, he slid his arm out of Eve's and took her hand. She froze in surprise and turned her face away from him – and Theo was very pleased to note that she was mildly blushing. "Eve…" he began measuredly. "May I ask you something, then, since you seem to be here often? Something about my sister?"

She nodded, staring diligently at her toes.

Theo smiled, watching Eve as she began to chew on her bottom lip. He had to admit that it was an adorable little gesture – especially coming from a woman with such delicate, doll-like features. His eyes lingered on the curve of her eyelashes, on the glinting edges of her thick blond curls…

He paused for a moment, took a breath to speak – and then stopped himself.

He had meant to ask Eve if Jada was honestly happy here with Valentine, but decided last minute that it was a foolish thing to say. What if Eve did not know about Jada's relationship at all? No one else in the Circle seemed to know… or if they did, they were smart enough to not run their mouths off about it. Surely it would ruin his sister's reputation if the news ever got out… and this Eve girl seemed so innocent…

"How much did you hear?" Theo asked instead. "When my sister and I were talking in her rooms, how much of the conversation between us did you hear?"

Eve's pretty mouth tightened. "A bit," she confessed. "I came while you were giving the story about Argyle Silverspear… that was all…"

Theo almost sighed, grateful that he hadn't asked about Valentine. If what Eve said was true, she had no idea that Valentine had been part of the conversation at all.

"So you heard that Argyle is about to go into the Brotherhood?" he continued dully.

Eve squeezed Theo's hand affectionately. It was the first time since their meeting that she had returned one of his advances. "Yes…" she replied stiffly. "I am sorry to hear it. For Jada's sake…"

He took her other hand in his own and stared into her downcast face. Uncertainty hovered at the end of Eve's voice. "But?" Theo added.

After a long moment of chewing on her lip, Eve glanced up into his face. "But… I thought you said… something about Jada having another lover here?"

Theo cringed internally at his own stupidity. "My sister had alluded to the fact, yes… I have no idea who the man is, though."

Eve nodded, looking honestly confused. He prayed to God that she never guessed Valentine to be that person.

"I think… that you were wrong about Jada," she finally told him.

Theo wasn't offended, but it piqued his curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"I think…" Eve shook her head, sending her golden hair flying. "Maybe you were wrong to say she wasn't going to be happy here, without Argyle… I mean… I really don't know much about the story… and it really isn't any of my business, but… I think Jada is loved here. Even if… if it isn't strictly by a man…" Eve stared directly into his eyes. "I think she has plenty of people here who care about her… People who wouldn't want to loose her…"

Heartache shone in Eve's eyes, and Theo guessed exactly who else 'didn't want to loose Jada' there in the Manor. The thought made him want to pull Eve into his arms.

"It isn't only Jada's need for love that I am concerned about," he told her gently, cradling her hands. "When Jada walked away from Argyle, he was devastated… He was as good as a brother to me, and when they separated, I had to watch both of my only two family members waste away, when all they needed to do was reconcile with each other – just to take each other back – and then they would have been happy…"

Eve was silent for a very long time then, but she didn't attempt to pull away from him. Her body was still, thoughtful… A cold breeze tossed the gardens then, and she shivered. He wished he had a jacket to offer her.

"You are right," Eve stated finally. "I think… you are right… about Jada and Argyle…" She aimed a smile at him that could have melted stone, but he could see the sacrifice in her gaze. "I will try my best to reason with her… She is upset now, I think… But I'm sure I can convince her to see things your way, in time… I agree that Jada deserves the best in life… and if Argyle is what is best for her…" Her voice trailed off.

Theo smiled and raised both of her small hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles fondly, the slender bones of her fingers… "Thank you," he told her somberly. "I don't know how I will ever repay you for this…"

Eve laughed a little nervously. Theo half-expected the garden to explode into bloom at the bell-like sound of her joy. The very choirs of heaven could not have sounded so lovely.

"Don't repay me," Eve replied tenderly. "Just make Jada happy; that is all I ask."

She took his arm once more and they strolled together silently to the main entrance of the Manor: Theo's horse was waiting for him there – a sleek, towering brute of a stallion – flicking its shadowy mane impatiently. The stable-hand leading the horse looked slightly anxious at the sight of the animal, which made Theo smile.

The stable-hand had every reason to fear his horse, Argo. The beast was as unpredictable and vicious as the wind.

In a quick, polite gesture, Theo decided to completely lead Eve to the entrance of the Manor before departing, gaining a petulant snort from his stallion. He opened one of the doors for her courteously and smoothly slipped her arm out of his, lingering in the opening. She smiled up at him kindly.

"Thank-you, Theo, for your company," she said. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Theo's eyes drank in the sight of her face one last time. "Yes," he replied slowly, dragging out the moment. Before his common sense could scream in protest, Theo leaned in close to Eve, and planted a lingering, affectionate kiss on her flawless, porcelain cheek. Her skin smelt like spring. "It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Eve…" he returned, drawing back.

Without another word, Theo spun on his heels and went to his horse, leaving Eve to stare after him in wondered bewilderment, her fingertips pressed bemusedly against her blushing cheek.

It wasn't until a few hours later – long after Theo had disappeared into the horizon – that Eve finally turned and went inside the Manor. She had spent the hours outside, wandering the gardens, lost in thought, trying to plan out how she was going to keep her promise to Theo. The violent blush in her cheeks hadn't totally subsided yet, and the feel of Theo's lips still whispered against her skin like a memory…

She closed the Manor's heavy, gilded-wood door behind her and smiled.

Theo had been very kind to her – and so sympathetic; it felt like she had known him for ages even though they had only just met… And he had cared so much about his sister… Eve only hoped that she could convince Jada to return to this Argyle character… After all, Jada was impossibly stubborn…

The door latched closed – and then Eve froze.

Something panicked and instinctual ran up her spine like lightening – and she recognized it instantly to be the realization of danger. She revolved around slowly, glancing toward the pale, gleaming foyer. It felt like her nerve ends were on fire.

Eve scanned the room noiselessly, and then paled as she saw a familiar figure lounging against the banister at the top of the staircase, right next to the angel statuette with the Cup; a figure that looked volatile in spite of their casual pose. A figure whose black eyes were glowering venomously her way.

Jonathan.

His lips twisted into a cruel, hateful grimace as he caught sight of her, and Eve had never felt so afraid – so purely afraid – of Jonathan. She could see, even from the distance, that his muscles were wound furiously tight, and a that volatile spark was flickering in his eyes.

She automatically wished that she had a weapon in her hand – the violent way that Jonathan was staring at her was making her on edge – and then she stopped herself in surprise. Sadness clutched at her chest.

It was tormenting to think that she had to doubt Jonathan at all… Jonathan who she should have been able to trust… Jonathan who she loved above anyone else… To have to worry that he may hurt her, or be a danger to her, was totally heart-wrenching.

Tears sprung to her eyes, but Eve refused to let herself cry, especially not in front of him: She stared at an ornate detail in the banister until the wetness in her eyes faded, but the emotional agony that she felt did not subside.

Jonathan crossed his strong arms across his chest and scowled.

"Who the hell was that?" he hissed dangerously. His voice was resonant and strong despite the vast distance between them; it was something he had inherited from his father. "That boy - who was he?"

Eve's breathing suddenly became shallow and erratic. "I don't know what you mean, Jonathan," she told him evenly.

Jonathan's mouth twitched venomously.

"Don't lie to me!" Jonathan snarled. "Don't you dare lie to me: You know exactly what I mean!"

Eve swallowed – quickly thinking of an alibi. The last thing she wanted was Jonathan to go after Theo in a rage… "It was one of the stable-hands, Jonathan," she explained calmly, soothingly. It must have been the first bold-faced lie she had ever told him. "Hardly anything to get excited about…"

Jonathan snapped.

"Liar!" he screamed. "Liar!"

Like a savage animal, Jonathan roared and whipped his arm out, his muscles rippling with his blinding speed. His hand cracked fiercely into contact with the head of the angel statue, and the lovely marble figure shattered at his blow. Eve stumbled backwards at the sight – filled with terror.

She had not thought it was possible for marble to shatter.

White shards of stone flung her way, propelled by the force of Jonathan's rage, and Eve was horrified to see a tiny, mutilated piece of the imitation Mortal Cup tumble to the base of the stairs. Valentine was going to beat Jonathan to bloody tatters when he saw that, she thought… Valentine seemed to be really fond of those figures…

Suddenly, Jonathan stormed down the stairs toward her, his posture deadly. Panic swept through Eve's veins like adrenaline, and her eyes flashed wide as she backed away from him. She didn't realize just how far she had travelled until her back was glued to the front door. Jonathan stalked ever nearer to her, his hands squeezed into pale fists.

"You deceptive little bitch," he was growling. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Did you really think I would believe that boy was one of the stable-hands?"

Eve set her jaw, to keep her lips from trembling.

"Of course not, Jonathan," she replied compliantly, her voice unsteady.

He was directly in front of her, then. She could see herself reflected in the blackness of his irises, and she could smell the lovely sweetness of his breath – but more then anything, she could see the blatant hatred that had turned his face to stone. It seemed to take over the beauty that Eve had found in his features before. All she saw now was an enemy.

He leered at her. "'I don't think I'm ready for romance, right now, Jonathan,'" he mocked in a spiteful, whiny voice, echoing her words from before. Eve's face drained of color. "'I think I need time…'"

Jonathan snorted inelegantly, his face a mask of disgust.

"Funny," he continued callously, not sounding humored, at all. "You didn't seem to 'need time' where Theo was concerned." His voice bit icily when he said Theo's name – thrilling the word with all the cruel sarcasm that he could muster.

Eve clenched her teeth.

"I don't see why you care so much about it," she countered stiffly. "– even if I did have feelings for Theo. You don't love me, Jonathan... Most of the time, you don't even like me."

His eyes darkened menacingly and his mouth twisted into a hard shape. Jonathan's fury was unleashed.

"It doesn't matter if I love you or not!" he roared explosively. "You belong to me!"

Eve flinched away from him, startled by his sudden outburst, and Jonathan seemed all the more infuriated because of it. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, clasping it painfully, and jerked her to him. Her face was less than a breath away from his, then – so close that the tip of his pale nose brushed against hers – and in any other circumstance, his nearness probably would have made her blush.

She didn't feel like blushing then. She felt completely terrified.

"You were born to be with me!" he raged on. "My father is raising you so you can be with me! Me! It doesn't matter what you think or feel – you're mine! You don't have a choice to be with anyone else! You're a puppet – MY puppet – and I'll do with you whatever I damn well want to!"

Eve's nostrils flared and her chest hitched unevenly – as she tried not to think about what Jonathan had meant by his last few words. She stared into his face with a fresh wave of fear, trying to find some familiarity in the face in front of her, but failing. Her gaze froze as she looked into his eyes.

Eve had memorized those eyes perfectly over the years. They had always been black in color, with pupils a bit darker than his irises – like deeper shadows floating against lighter shadows.

His eyes were a single, flat shade of black, now. His pupils had consumed his irises – turning his eyes into a pair of cold, lifeless black chips.

Eve trembled with fear.

This creature was not the Jonathan she knew.

"Jonathan," she told him shakily, cringing at the pain in her throbbing wrist. "Jonathan, you're hurting me. Let go."

Jonathan's face twisted then.

"I don't care," he said coldly, and then Jonathan wrenched at his grip on her wrist.

Eve heard the gruesome snap.

And then she felt the jarring agony shoot up her arm.

For one moment, she cried out – and then she clamped her mouth shut, hiding her pain.

Jonathan had done it.

He had honestly hurt her.

He yanked on her snapped wrist, hurling her across the foyer. She stumbled and then regained her balance hastily and backed away from him.

Eve fought the urge to give up as she saw that she had been thrown past the staircase. If she had landed somewhere closer to the stairs, she might have been able to escape Jonathan – to get away – but she was closer to the foyer's opposite wall than to her escape route. She knew she would never be able to outrun him. Not to mention that fleeing Jonathan would probably throw him over the edge.

Her fear and disbelief impaired her vision.

The foyer swirled into a vortex of pale stone as she saw Jonathan coming towards her – And even though she knew it was a senseless thing to do, she backed away from him until she had her back against the wall. Her defenses were gone; her wrist was broken, the rest of her body felt boneless with dread, and now she was in the worst defensive position imaginable – backed against a wall.

Eve couldn't bring herself to care, somehow. The crushing realization that Jonathan had truly caused her harm had eclipsed her fear of further damage.

He knees gave way underneath her. She slid weakly to the ground.

"This isn't you, Jonathan," she whispered desperately. "Jonathan, this can't be you…"

She heard a sound, then. A slamming noise, but her vision was too blurred to see what it was or from where it came.

Jonathan didn't seem to notice the sound, at all.

His beautiful lips bent into a contorted scowl as his shadow loomed over her, and Eve's terror piqued again.

"You don't know what I am, Angel-girl," he said in a low, murderous voice. "Not even –"

Suddenly, Jonathan was pulled from her vision. There was a sound like an animal snarl and then a grisly crack that echoed throughout the foyer. The abrupt noise was enough to clear Eve's head. She stared forward and shivered as a cool breeze drifted through the open front doors…

Open, she puzzled silently. Why were the doors open?

Her head turned warily to her side – and then she gasped.

Like an avenging angel, a familiar figure had pinned Jonathan to the marble wall, his strong hand circling ruthlessly around Jonathan's pale throat. He was merciless – forcing Jonathan to the wall with the fullest potential of his strength. She could see it in the rigid tension of his massive body, through the thin fabric of his white, button up shirt, and where the veins in his muscular neck were strained and prominent.

Valentine had returned home.

It was one of those rare, frightening moments where Eve could see that Jonathan's father was not just tall and broad – but also dangerously powerful: a tower of pure muscle. His handsome face was stony with rage – lacking compassion or compunction as he glared wrathfully at his trapped son.

Eve saw the insensitivity in Valentine's gaze, had stopped feeling afraid for herself, and had begun to feel afraid for Jonathan…

That horrible flatness in Jonathan's eyes had disappeared, she saw, and his irises had returned to their normal two-tone black color. His expression was dazed as he stared into his father's cold face – almost confused: as if he had just awakened from a nightmare. Jonathan choked a little as he glanced from his father, down to her.

Jonathan's expression changed to guilt as their eyes met. It was the very first look of remorse she had ever seen on Jonathan's face.

And then it changed to a very vulnerable look of fear as his gaze flicked back to his father.

What was wrong with Jonathan, Eve thought sharply. That he could change emotions so quickly… It was like he was possessed –

Oh God, Eve thought in horror.

Possessed.

The demon blood.

Was that the reason that Jonathan had hurt her?

The thought filled Eve with a twisted sort of hope... It was true that sometimes Jonathan had episodes – almost trance-like states where his demonic nature seemed to take him over – and of course, the incidents had become more and more frequent, more and more violent, as Jonathan's condition had worsened… But nothing like what had just happened.. Although, it was not really Jonathan's fault that they happened, she supposed; he had not chosen to be infused with demon blood…

She looked solemnly into Jonathan's face, feeling sincere pity for him.

It was not Jonathan who had snapped her wrist, Eve told herself determinedly. It was that monster that ran in his veins… the monster that had been put there before Jonathan was even born… That was who had hurt her.

"Eve," Valentine growled, tightening his grip on Jonathan. "Go."

She hesitated; her mind lingered on the panic in Jonathan's eyes. "But –"

"I said go!" he snapped furiously.

Eve cowered away from Valentine – he rarely ever raised his voice with her. After one last sorrowful look at Jonathan's face, Eve scrambled unwillingly to her feet, cradling her damaged wrist against her chest.

As she hastily scaled the staircase, she threw one last look over her shoulder at the two Morgensterns – just in time to see Valentine grab Jonathan viciously by the shirt-front and shove him through one of the dark, adjacent doorways. Jonathan didn't try to resist his father – he surrendered himself numbly to Valentine – as if he thought he deserved the punishment that was coming to him.

Eve remembered the guilt that had shown in his expression, and wondered if Jonathan unduly blamed himself for what he had done to her…

She ran the rest of the way up the stairs, not stopping until she had swung into her bedroom, and collapsed into her familiar scarlet armchair.

Eve's acute hearing picked up a noise from downstairs – one that sounded a lot like a human howl of pain. She cringed in horror– her eyes filling up with tears.

To distract herself, she glanced down at her wrist.

It was ugly and swollen – but she prodded it expertly, knowing all the ways to check if it was still broken from the medical training that Valentine had given her. After all, she healed inhumanly fast. It was one of the advantages of having Angel-blood in her veins: her wrist might have already gotten better.

She winced as her good hand fingered her throbbing, injured wrist, and she realized quickly that the bones had already healed. At worst, her wrist was severely sprained now… Although the swelling probably wouldn't go down completely until the morning…

She quickly grabbed a narrow hardcover book from her bedside table and bound it to her wrist with the sleeve of her housecoat – creating a makeshift splint for herself.

Another cry sounded from downstairs.

Trembling, Eve hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, staring dry-eyed into the desolate, unlit fireplace.

'Of course!' she had said to Theo. '… It is wonderful here…'

Eve buried her face in her knees.

Her heart felt heavier than lead.

Wow... sorry to leave you on a sad note like that... It gets happier, I promise... :)... I felt like the characters were writing themselves a bit this chapter... I really hadn't planned this chapter to go this way... oh, well...

I feel so bad for Jonathan!... *cries in a corner* I love him so much! I finished writing the chapter and read over the second part about Eve/ Jonathan and was heartbroken... (but not totally, because I know what is going to happen in the next few chapters...Perks of being the author...)

I will make sure to write quickly and not leave you in this emotional rut! *writes like the wind*

Love, Fishie.