Good evening, my friends! I'm back again! Hurrah!

Now, who here is annoyed about the fanfiction alert problem? All the reviews you guys make do not appear in my email inbox, and I can't send or receive messages from anybody! Grr! Are you guys all having the same problems as me?

Anyway, thanks for all the great reviews you made about my last chapter, they were really encouraging. I hope you enjoy the chapter and, as always, big thanks goes to you for giving me the incentive to actually write. I mean, I love writing, but it's your great comments that keep me updating as ogten as I do. Cheers, m'dears!

Jeff waited impatiently at the reception desk as the security officer relayed information to his colleagues via a hand-held communications device. Tapping his foot in an attempt to rid himself of some of his nervous energy, the Tracy patriarch glanced back over his shoulder and puffed out a frustrated breath. He wanted to get back to his sons. Something about the situation just didn't seem right.

"Mr. Tracy?"

Jeff turned back towards the security officer and plastered a calm smile onto his face. The young, muscular man returned the smile, glancing down at the data-pad in his hand.

"Mr. Tracy, it appears that there have been three complaints so far today about - to quote from the patients - 'a shifty janitor'." he stated, his brow creasing slightly. "We've been searching in other parts of the hospital for this 'janitor', but I'm afraid our attempts have been unsuccessful."

"I understand that, sir." Jeff began. "But, if what my boys have told me is true, and this man is in fact a reporter, he's probably going to be sticking around the areas near to where my sons' are being treated."

The other man nodded, running a hand through his short, black hair and straightening his back slightly. "Do you think it would be alright if we came and had a little chat with your boys?" he asked. "At least, with the ones who actually saw this janitor guy? We need to get a description of his appearance, if possible."

Jeff nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir."

The security officer shook his head, smiling slightly. "No offence, Mr. Tracy, but you're a good deal older than me. It just sounds wrong if you keep calling me 'sir'. Please, call me Josh. And over there, that's Eddy. Hey Eddy, come over here a sec!"

Eddy, who had been standing beside the entrance to the waiting room, turned towards the two men and smiled. Walking over to them, he looked expectantly at Josh.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a hand immediately going to the small communicator hanging in a pouch on the side of his belt. Josh frowned thoughtfully and gazed off over Jeff's shoulder, his brow creasing even further as he sighed softly.

"I don't know, Eddy." he replied finally. "It sounds like we may have a major security breech."

Eddy looked momentarily flabbergasted. "What kind of breech?" he asked quickly.

"Apparently, a reporter has disguised himself as one of the janitors and is now roaming the corridors with a camera, trying to get snapshots of Mr. Tracy and his family."

Eddy blinked in surprise at this, then glanced up at Jeff, before the light of realisation dawned in his eyes. "Ah." he remarked. "I see. Well, at least that explains the pack of press reporters that have been trying to break through the entrance for the past twelve hours. Stupid gits."

Josh grinned and slapped his hand down on the edge of the reception desk. "Alright, let's go check out the upper corridor." he said. "Mr. Tracy, we'll do a thorough sweep of your sons' floor, then we'll come and have a little word with whichever kid it was who saw this janitor guy, alright?"

Jeff nodded, relieved that they had at least made a small amount of progress. Walking away from reception with the two security officers, Jeff could not help but smirk at some of the shocked glances he was receiving. He understood that it was probably a strange sight; seeing Jeff Tracy being 'escorted' through the hospital by two young and muscular security officers. Stepping into the elevator with the two men, he pressed the button that would take them to the second floor, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the doors slid closed at an impossibly slow pace. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, he waited until the gentle 'ping' of the elevator had resounded, before stepping out into the main corridor and pausing to allow a group of nurses to hurry past.

Suddenly, he felt his insides lurch uncomfortably, and an uneasy feeling settled at the pit of his stomach. Blanching, Jeff had the distinct feeling that something was not right. Quickening his pace, he broke off from the two security officers and jogged down the corridor to the left of him, frowning worriedly when the uneasy feeling increased tenfold. Breaking into a run, he charged up the staircase towards his where his sons were being kept. As he neared the top of the staircase, he heard a familiar voice yelling loudly, causing Jeff's blood to run cold.

"Stop it!"

Recognising the panicked voice to be that of John's, Jeff leaped up the final few stairs in a single bound, turning right and sprinting across the few metres of ground that separated him from the set of double doors. Pushing the thin door with a force great enough to tip over a sizable elephant, he stopped short, his eyes going wide.

The sight that met him would forever be engraved upon his memory. His dear friend, Thomas Palmar, was struggling to his feet, clutching at the side of his jaw with one hand as he used the other to push against the floor in a hurried attempt to right himself. A few feet behind Thomas, Scott stood frozen to the spot in shock, although as Jeff watched, he broke into a run, his eyes locked desperately on the two figures nearest to Jeff. Following Scott's gaze, Jeff realised in shock that his second-eldest son was pinned firmly to the ground beneath the body of a tall man. A tall man wearing a janitor's uniform.

Jeff saw red. Striding forwards swiftly and silently, he stopped right in front of the 'janitor', placing his feet shoulder-width apart with John's head directly in between. He saw Scott freeze, mid-sprint, a surprised but relieved expression spreading over his face. But Jeff's gaze was now intent upon the man who, at present, had his right hand pulled back to his left shoulder, clearly with the intention of backhanding John across the face. If Jeff had felt angry before, it was nothing compared to the rage that now coursed through his veins.

"Get your filthy hands off my son." Jeff managed to growl out, resisting the urge to just punch the guy right there and then. But the reporter had his knee on John's stomach, and any sudden movement might have caused him to inflict injury upon the teenager's abdomen.

Had the situation not been so grave, Jeff would have laughed at the 'deer caught in the headlights' look that the older man sent his way as he glanced up slowly from John's face. Swallowing slightly, the reporter looked from John to Jeff and suddenly realised who he had been pinning for the past thirty seconds. Raising his right hand in a peaceful gesture, he removed the other hand from John's shoulder and the knee from John's stomach, standing up slowly and backing off a few paces. As the weight was taken off the teenager's midriff, John could not help but grunt slightly, gasping in the breath that he had been unable to take in before. If at all possible, Jeff's anger grew in intensity. Stepping around his fallen son, he grabbed the front of the navy-blue uniform with both hands and slammed the man into the wall of the corridor.

"If you ever come near my sons again," he thundered furiously. "I will make you regret the day you were born, is that understood? And I swear, if you've so much as bruised one of my boys, I will hit you so hard-"

"Mr. Tracy!"

Jeff felt firm hands gripping at his arms and pulling him away. Reluctantly, he released the reporter's shirt and stepped back to allow Eddy to grab onto the man's arms with a vice-like grip.

"Hey, what did I do?" he demanded crossly. "You saw what Tracy did, he attacked me! Arrest him, you idiots!"

"We'll call the cops, Mr. Tracy." Josh assured him, moving forward to help the other security officer with the struggling man. "We followed you up the stairs, and we arrived here in time to see 'Mr. Janitor' here about to strike one of your kids. You've got nothing to worry about, sir. This guy is obviously the one we've been looking for. The cops will want to have a word with all of you, of course, but I'll try and keep them away as long as possible. Just stay in the hospital until we get back, alright? It shouldn't take us longer than fifteen minutes or so to fill in the required data forms downstairs."

Jeff nodded his head and managed a tight smile, although his eyes still blazed with anger and fury. "Thanks, Josh."

"Don't mention it." the man smiled, before turning to look at his partner. "Alright, Eddy, let's get this jerk down to the confinement office."

As the two men dragged the struggling reporter back down the corridor and towards the double doors, Jeff snapped out of his trance and darted towards his fallen son. John was still breathing heavily, leaning against Scott's chest as he sat propped-up against his brother for support. Dropping to his knees in front of them, Jeff ran his hands over John's face and chest, looking for any obvious injuries.

"John! Johnny, are you alright?" he asked worriedly. John smiled at him and nodded, sitting up a little straighter and wincing slightly.

"I-I'm fine, Dad." he panted. "Just a little bit winded, that's all."

Jeff sighed in relief, gathering John into a crushing embrace and holding him against his chest. Over John's shoulder, he saw a very pale-looking Scott take in a shaky breath, and immediately detached an arm from around John's back, extending it towards his eldest. Scott smiled as they created a three-way hug between them, the brown-haired boy being sure to keep an arm around his younger brother's shoulders.

"Scotty? You okay, son?" Jeff asked softly. Scott nodded mutely, squeezing John's shoulder just a little bit harder. Jeff released them gently and stood up, before reaching down and helping John to his feet. He was relieved to see that his second-eldest really did seem to be fine, other than being thoroughly shaken up.

"Oh crap, Andy!"

At Scott's cry, Jeff turned in time to see the teenager dart down the corridor and fall to his knees beside Thomas, who was bending over a crumpled figure on the floor. Jeff hurried after him, dropping down beside his son and gasping as he saw the young doctor's bruised face.

"Andy?" Thomas called softly, putting his fingers to the younger man's neck and counting the pulse-rate. "Andy, open your eyes for me. C'mon, buddy, look alive!"

Andy grunted, his face forming a grimace as he opened his eyes wearily and blinked up at Thomas. "Hey, doc." he mumbled. "Sorry, m'not quite sure how to phrase this, but - This time it wasn't actually my fault that I fell asleep on duty, right?"

Thomas chuckled softly, looking thoroughly relieved, and moved to gently touch the large bruise that was forming on Andy's cheekbone. The injured man grunted again, pushing himself up on his arms and sliding backwards until he was sitting with his back against the wall of the corridor.

"Hey, hey, hey. Easy, pal." Thomas murmured, as the younger man moved to stand up. "Try not to move around too much. You took quite a nasty knock to your head."

Andy brought a hand up to the back of his head and winced. "Uh-huh." he agreed, grimacing slightly as he blinked the fuzziness out of his vision. "Note to self; don't stand next to a wall when someone throws a punch at you."

Jeff grinned at the light-hearted remark, putting an arm around John's shoulders as the teenager dropped down next to him. Hearing a gasp, he turned his attention to Scott, who was staring in horror at the fallen doctor. Following his son's gaze, Jeff frowned worriedly as he noticed that Andy was staring at his now blood-coated hand.

"Not again." he complained softly, sighing in exasperation as he regarded the dark red stain on his palm and fingers. Thomas put a finger beneath Andy's chin and tilted his head upwards, taking the penlight from his pocket and shining it in the man's eyes.

"Okay, buddy, you know the drill." he said softly. "What's you name?"

Andy sighed slightly, allowing his hand to drop down onto his lap palm-upwards. "Andrew Thomas Myers." he stated confidently.

"Thomas?" the older doctor echoed, grinning gleefully. "Great choice of middle-name there, pal. Alright. How old are you?"

Andy hesitated slightly, and Thomas lowered his penlight, a concerned frown playing across his face. Putting a hand on the younger man's arm, he squeezed gently and gave Andy a prompting smile. "Andy?" he urged quietly.

Andy sighed and rubbed at the larger bruise on his jawline, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Twenty." he mumbled.

Upon hearing this, Jeff's mouth fell open slightly. He's twenty? Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second! He told me he'd been working at this hospital for six months. And before that he would have had to go through med school. How old was he when he started the course, if he's only twenty now?

Thomas, however, seemed unphased by this piece of information, and continued to inspect the cut on the back of Andy's head, apologising softly when the man hissed in pain.

"So where did you do your degree?" he asked lightly, his fingers gently probing the bump as he felt for any irregularities.

"What? Oh - um - Harvard med college." the younger man stuttered. Thomas nodded in approval.

"Good place." he remarked. "Went there myself for a couple of years, until I ditched the full course. Got bored. I took the med exams in Boston med-school, two years before I was supposed to."

Andy grinned delightedly. "Snap. I couldn't stand Harvard. The lectures gave me a headache worse than the one I have right now. I mean, who would actually want to sit in a stuffy lecture room for three hours and listen to a guy stating the obvious about respiratory disorders?"

Thomas chuckled as he moved back in front of Andy and raised his chin again. "Follow my finger." he instructed, moving his index finger from side to side slowly. "Pal, I know exactly what you mean about those lectures." he continued casually. "That's why I ditched course, too. I already knew what they were talking about, it said the same stuff in the reference books. I didn't need any more study-time, I already knew all the answers. Once I'd taken the exams, the NASA training programme snagged me before anybody else could. They wanted a young, eager doctor-in-training, and apparently I fit the bill perfectly."

Jeff, who had been listening to this exchange with a small smile upon his face, turned to look at Andy. "How old were you when you took the exams?" he asked. Andy grinned and shrugged.

"Seventeen." he admitted. Jeff blinked again, and even Thomas gasped slightly. Scott was the first to break the stunned silence.

"Seventeen?" he repeated incredulously. "Dude, no wonder Richard followed you around for six months. With a brain that size, you really could have been the greatest teenage genius of all time."

Andy shrugged again. "Maybe so." he agreed softly. "But it wasn't what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to help people, it's all I've ever wanted to do. That's why I surprised everybody by attending med-school instead of taking private tutoring from some of the best scientific minds on the planet. Heck, if I'd really wanted to, I could probably have become someone majorly famous by now. I'm told that my IQ is second to none; like that really makes me such a great person. I honestly don't give two hoots. If my high-school science teachers had been allowed to voice their say, I would have been pressured into taking an advanced degree at the age of nine."

Jeff shook his head. "You were at high-school when you were nine?" he asked.

"Mr. Tracy, I'm afraid I finished high-school at the age of nine." Andy smiled shyly, a small blush creeping onto his face. "I was what the world called 'wonder-kid' at that age. And that's why Richard was so obsessed with me. He gave up following me around just before I took the exams, which gave me the freedom to choose where I wanted to go to continue with my practical training. I guess I kinda got lucky on that one. My uncle was head consultant at a hospital in Boston, so he let me do my advanced practical training despite my young age. I became a fully qualified doctor about eight months ago, and I applied to this hospital 'cause they needed doctors who could handle new technology. I had a degree in mechanics and advanced electronics, one that I took when I was still just a kid, so the big bosses seemed pretty eager to employ me. Although they do enjoy giving me the double shifts, which smetimes leads me to think that- Ow!"

"Sorry." Thomas apologised softly, withdrawing his hand from the bruise of Andy's jaw and smiling. "Right, well at least we've established that Richard didn't cause any severe damage to those big brains of yours. Okay, let's get you down to the emergency room."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Dr. Palmar, I'm fine." he protested quietly, moving to stand up again. Jeff hid a smirk as Thomas' eyes hardened and he placed a restraining hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Well, you're clearly suffering from memory loss, as I'm sure I told you not to call me 'Dr. Palmar' when we were talking together earlier this afternoon." Thomas remarked lightly. Andy grinned and held up a hand in surrender.

"Fine, you win." he sighed. "But I'm gonna be late for my rounds if I'm held up downstairs. Then you'll have to face the wrath of Mark Hilson, who's technically the 'big boss' as far as we're concerned."

Thomas grinned and shook his head. "Not any more, pal. The papers came through just over and hour ago. I am officially the head consultant of Brookfield hospital."

Jeff grinned and clapped his friend on the back. "That was quick, Tom. I bet they were too excited that you accepted to wait another day. It was probably the highlight of their otherwise dull careers, huh?"

Thomas nodded, smiling slightly. "Well, I don't mind that I'm now officially working on earth. I haven't done that since my job in the mega-store when I was sixteen. But hey, at least I get to supervise Andy here. I warn you, pal, I've got endless energy. That's probably why every time I meet up with Jeff, I seem to end up getting a bruised jaw."

As the doctor rubbed at said jaw tenderly, Jeff his a laugh behind a quiet cough. Andy closed his eyes wearily and smiled. "Awesome. You're the first consultant I've ever met with a sense of humour. I think we're going to get along."

Opening his eyes again, Andy made one last attempt to stand up, only to have both Jeff and Thomas restrain him before he had made it even half way. He gazed at them in frustration.

"Oh c'mon, I can't just sit here all evening!" he complained. "And you said you wanted me to go down to the emergency room, so that's where I'm going, sir!"

As before, the 'sir' was accompanied with a stiff salute and a hopeful smile. However, Thomas would not be moved.

"Kiddo, you ain't goin' nowhere with that egg on the back of your head." he stated firmly. "I'll go find a nurse and have her call for a stretcher."

"But-" the younger man began to protest.

"I'm still not ruling out the possibilities of a concussion," Thomas continued casually, as if there had been no interruption. "So I want to have you monitored for the next few hours. The cut on your scalp needs to be glued, and you're gonna have one whopper of a headache by the time they've finished asking you questions downstairs, so you're not allowed back on duty until tomorrow afternoon at the very earliest, alright?"

"But - but Tom, I-" Andy stuttered. Jeff chuckled and held up a hand.

"Buddy, take it from someone who's been under Tom's care countless times before." he smiled kindly. "You're fighting a losing battle here. If I were you, I'd just give up now and save yourself from the threat of sedation."

Scott's eyes lit up gleefully, and he butted in with a cheerfully inquisitive; "Hey Dr. Palmar, is it true you keep a tranquiliser gun in your med-bag?"

Andy's eyes went wide as he glanced from Jeff to the now-smirking Thomas. Sighing loudly in resignation, he winced as his bruised face protested the movement and fixed Thomas with a slightly mischievous stare.

"Alright, dude, you win." he said softly. "But I warn you, this means war. Remember, you're officially my boss now. I have the opportunity to make your life a living hell."

Thomas and Jeff both grinned at the light-hearted threat, and the older doctor winked at his old friend before turning to smile at Andy.

"Bring it on, kid." he chuckled. "Bring it on."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

John glanced up at the clock on the wall and blinked in surprise. It's nine-thirty-five already! Man, where did the last hour go? Have the cops stopped asking Virge questions yet?

Looking up from where he was leaning against the window, John spotted his father solemnly shaking hands with two police officers in the doorway. Scott stood beside him, an arm slung around a sleepy Virgil's shoulders as they smiled their thanks at the cops and stepped back into the room. Jeff stepped out into the hallway to continue his conversation, and the doors gently 'swished' closed behind him.

Virgil sank into a chair at Alan's bedside, his eyes drooping slightly as he propped his face in his hands and yawned. Smiling fondly, John pushed himself off the wall and rounded the bed, sitting down on the space of mattress in front of Virgil and ruffling his younger brother's hair gently.

"You look beat, Virge." he remarked softly, keeping his voice low so as not to awaken Alan and Gordon, who were both snoozing peacefully. "I think it's time you went to bed."

Virgil scrubbed at his blood-shot eyes furiously and shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm not tired." he said quickly. John snorted slightly and rolled his eyes.

"Virge, I'm not buying it." he smiled, prodding the twelve-year-old's arm gently. "C'mon. Bed."

A spark of stubborn determination shone in the younger boys eyes as he shook his head again. "I'm fine, John. Stop fussing." he mumbled.

"Virge." Scott warned quietly, turning around in his seat at Gordon's bedside. "John's right, kiddo. You need to go get some sleep. You're still tired from yesterday, and you're practically dead on your feet. C'mon, let's get you back to the hotel."

"Scott." Virgil moaned. The older brown-haired Tracy shook his head and stood up, coming to stand in front of Virgil.

"Virgil, this isn't open for an argument." he said gently. "You're going to bed willingly, or I'm carrying you there. And I'll probably end up falling down the stairs if I tried to do that, so why not do us both a favour and come quietly, hmm? C'mon, sport, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's time for bed."

"But-" Virgil began to protest, hating the fact that he was being treated like a little kid again now that Alan and Gordon were asleep. However, the sound of the door opening stopped him. Jeff strode into the room, looking a good deal happier than he had been before, and smiled brightly at his three sons.

"Good news, boys." he stated softly, coming up behind Virgil's chair and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over them gently. "The police have decided that what you did was in self-defence, and with the good intention of protecting Andy. They're not listening to Richard's accusations anymore. According to him, Scott pinned him to the floor with a mop so that Tom could beat the living daylights outta him. And then, when he was trying to defend himself, he 'accidently' struck Andy across the face, which caused him to trip over and slam his head against the wall."

Scot snorted in amusement. "What a stupid story." he scoffed. "You'd have thought a reporter would be able to make it slightly more realistic than that, wouldn't you?"

John smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, an annoying question prodding at the back of his mind. At last, he gave into temptation and voiced his query. "Dad, you know earlier when you first met Andy?" he began softly. At Jeff's nod, John swallowed slightly and continued, "Well, you asked if you'd met before, because you seemed to recognise his face. What made you say that?"

Jeff smiled and detached his right hand from Virgil's shoulder, moving it up to stroke the chestnut-brown hair gently. "I'm glad you asked that, John." he said. "You see, there was a time when Andy made headline news almost as much as I did. This was five years ago, of course, and he looked a good deal younger than he does now. But back then, he had a different name."

"You mean his name's not Andy?" Scott asked. Jeff chuckled slightly.

"No, his name is definitely Andy" he smiled. "But back then, it was 'Andrew Thomas Mitchell', not 'Andrew Thomas Myers'. He changed his name when he graduated from med-school so that the press wouldn't follow him around so much. Sadly, there are people like Richard who can still recognise him, but on the whole he's managed to blend in pretty well."

John nodded, wishing that he could do something to change his name so that he and his family wouldn't be highlighted by the press as often as they were. But he knew that it was unlikely his father would ever fall from fame, considering the fact that his business firm was swiftly becoming one of the most successful branches in history. Wait a second - Dad's business conference! He was supposed to be attending one tomorrow! He must have completely forgotten.

"Dad." John said, looking up from his hands and gazing at his father worriedly. "Aren't you supposed to be going to a business conference tomorrow?"

Jeff frowned and shook his head. "That doesn't matter anymore, son." he stated gently. "Business can wait until I've gotten you boys back home. You're more important to me than a bunch of paperwork."

John smiled delightedly at these words, earning himself and affectionate hair-ruffle from his father. Jeff sighed happily, before glancing down at his watch. He raised an eyebrow at how late it was, before giving Virgil's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Time for bed, son." he said softly. When there was no response, John looked at his younger brother and smiled. Virgil has fallen asleep with his head resting back on his father's stomach, his face relaxed and peaceful. Reaching forward, he gently patted the younger boy on the cheek.

"Virgil? C'mon, kiddo, up and at 'em!" he murmured. Virgil opened a weary eye and frowned slightly, taking in his surroundings with a confused expression upon his face. Jeff came to stand beside Scott, bending down slightly so that he could look Virgil in the eye.

"C'mon, Virge." he smiled fondly. "Let's get you back to the hotel."

"I'll take him." Scott offered, putting an arm around Virgil's shoulders to steady him as he stood wearily to his feet. "I need to grab something from my bag anyway."

"Thanks, Scott." Jeff smiled, pulling Virgil into a one-armed hug and planting a kiss on the boy's forehead. "See you in the morning, son. Sleep tight."

John stood up and ruffled Virgil's hair, giving him a brief hug. Fixing him with a stern gaze, he smiled slightly. "No reading, kiddo." he ordered softly. "You can listen to music if you want to, but if I walk in later to find you with your head resting on a crumpled page of some sci-fi novel, there'll be hell to pay."

Virgil grinned at the threat. "Got it, Johnny. 'Night."

As Scott and Virgil left the room, John noticed that his father was looking at him strangely. Turning around to face him, John cocked his head to one side questionginly.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Jeff sighed and looked down at his shoes, before glancing back up and smiling. "Johnny, we need to have a little talk. Just the two of us. We haven't done that in far too long. I'm sure there are a lot of questions you want to ask me." He paused, smiling slightly, and began moving two of the chairs into the far corner of the room. "I have a few questions that I want to ask you, too."

Sitting down in one of the chairs, he signalled for John to do join him, smiling encouragingly. John swallowed the sudden butterflies in his stomach. He wasn't the sort of person who liked talking about his emotions, but he knew that both he and his father needed this. They needed to understand each other better. And his father was right, there really were a lot of questions he wanted to ask. Taking a deep breath, he sat down beside Jeff, and together they began the most important conversation of their lives.

In the next chapter, we hear a little bit more of the conversations between Jeff and his sons. Will Alan and Gordon be discharged and allowed to go back home, or will their state of health still be too worrying to overlook? How will Andy be feeling in the morning, and what connections does he have to the Air-Force? And how will this affect the way that Scott views him? Find out soon!

That's all for today, folks! The next update will be on Friday at the latest, so stay tuned for more family fluff, mystery and drama! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. PLEASE REVIEW and tell me what you thought of it, and maybe the review alert will be back up bybthen so that I can reply. Tsk! We all live in hope.

See ya later, buddies! Thanks again!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox