Hello gentle readers.

I am so very sorry that this update has been a long time coming. It was a bad week from last Monday, as my boyfriend was taken in hospital. Thankfully all is well now, but it's been a hard time these last ten days. That said, I'm here now with the next chapter and I hope to complete the drafts of the remaining four chapters and have your story finished this week to thank you for your patience!

Yours,

Humble Quill

As the fire service removes the tree from my kitchen, I sit amongst the wreckage of crockery and leaves, searching for pieces of the teacup.

Those I have form the handle, and one is the circular base. After a few more minutes of foraging and several strange looks from the firemen, I have almost all the pieces in my hands. I gather what I have to make my way into the living room, where a bottle of glue sits waiting.

And as I go I see it in the doorway.

The piece with the chip, caked in Caroline's blood.

Depositing the other pieces safely on the coffee table, I return with this one to the sink. The water is still running despite the effects of the earthquake. As I wash the little shard of china, reminders of the shudders return to me.

No wonder she ran – the quake was quite remarkable – and all-too-real to be standing so close to its epicentre.

My powers are gone for good.

Though I couldn't have told you that I had them beforehand, I know now that I did, and they no longer reside in this body. A frailty has taken me today that I haven't felt in a long time, a loss of strength that I hope will not be lasting.

The china is finely veined, and though I can rinse most of the blood from its surface, some small spectre of it lingers, colouring patches of it with a rusty red hue. Eventually I concede that this cannot be remedied, returning the chipped piece to its brethren.

And so to the task.

I begin to glue from the base-up, portion by portion, edge to edge. The tectonics of it soothe me, quelling the impatient soul within me that wonders where Belle is.

I know that she will be somewhere safe; no doubt the emergency services will be pounding the pavements all over town looking for people to help. I hope that she has sought treatment for her wound. And I must content myself that she will return, if only because her things are upstairs.

When the rounded bowl of the teacup is complete, I begin the barbarous task of reattaching its handle, trying to avoid the oozes of glue that seek out my fingertips.

Of all the things to happen in a kiss.

Not that I think for a second that she will connect the two. No-one of this age would even consider it.

But I hope it hasn't frightened her off, just when things seem to have taken a turn for the better. Just when her sweet lips have lingered too long on mine, and I can hardly help but stick my hand to the teacup as I lose myself in the brief memory.

"We got the tree out, Mr Gold."

I turn my head to the burly oaf approaching me.

"Thank you Douglas."

"You want me to call you a window guy?"

I nod. "I'd be much obliged."

He skulks off, leaving me to prise my fingers off the cup. Once the meagre repairs are completed, I shelve the cup inside a cupboard from which a hundred books have spilt. I look around the room at the scattered objects and fallen paintings, and accept that this situation deserves a genuine sigh.

"We've got a lot of cleaning up to do."

At first the tracksuit confuses me, not least because it does not come with shoes, but her face seems to make even the most absurd circumstances seem in balance. Caroline crosses the room carefully, besocked feet ambling to find me.

"Your foot… it's…"

"Okay," she completes. "It's actually healing, it's… not as bad as it seemed."

I just nod. She looks at me inquiringly.

"And… are you okay?"

"Just got a little… freaked out by the shaking."

Her voice is level, but her eyes are still deeply focused on me. She takes my hair in her fingertips, then lets her hand fall to graze my neck.

"I'm calm again now."

I'm not. The feel of her skin on mine renews my strength, takes away the numbing loss of power I have felt in the hour that she's been missing from my side. The touch becomes more confident, more deliberate as her fingers slip to the nape of my neck, down into my collar an inch.

"Just need to do something, before we start clearing up."

"Right…" I say, but I'm loathe to admit I have no idea what's happening.

And then she grins, just like she did not so long ago. Her eyes still seem to be searching, but her mouth is wide and full of amusement.

"Kiss me again."

I can't be sure if she asked it, or if I just heard it from inside my head.

"I don't suppose you could say that once more."

I watch her lips form the words this time.

"Kiss. Me. Again."

She steps into my arms, lets me drink in her beautiful face for a lingering moment. Then she moves in, the faintest hint of rich coffee about her, her hair falling in perfect lines around her cheeks.

"I shan't need telling twice again."

This time there is nothing but her divinity, and there is no greater power to shake the ground beneath us. She relaxes into my lips, and I feel her smiling as we part.

"Right," she says, looking around at the mess. "Well that's sorted, shall we start in here?"

"Yes, I think so," I reply, taking her waist so she can't walk off to pick anything up.

She smiles at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and shoulders.

"There's just something else we need to do first."

Moments later I can feel the footsteps of the hefty fire-fighter Douglas returning to the room, then leaving again almost as quickly. I would thank him for not disturbing us, but I imagine that my lips will be busy for quite some time.