A/N: Short writing update! Chapter 26 is done, and I'm hoping to get Chapter 27 and part of Chapter 28 done on Friday. I don't have any classes that day, so I have plenty of time to sleep in, go to the gym, get some work done and get some fun writing and reading done. I'll also have the weekend to work(plus soccer tryouts, wish me luck) and Monday off, so I'm hoping I'll be extra creative this weekend and pull ahead a bit writing-wise. Bear with me, I'm still figuring out how to do everything I want to do during the week with my new class schedule, but so far I think I'm on track to keep posting as usual.

Now, onto the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Enjoy!

Chapter: 25

Darren stared wistfully at the clock overhead. Trying to think of how to answer Dinah. She sat patiently in the same big white chair as she normally did, a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. Darren actually sat on the sofa across from her this time, his back pressed into the corner of the arm of the couch, his knees pressed up to his chin. His agitation and fidgetiness from their last session were subdued this time around, for reasons Darren didn't know and didn't want to discern. Dinah didn't seem to care if he put his feet up on the couch, that or she just didn't think saying anything would do him or her any good.

A mug of hot chocolate sat in front of him on the low wooden table. Sure it was summer, but he still loved warm sugary drinks. It had taken some wheedling, but Dinah did get Darren to mention that he liked hot chocolate and other sweet things and she'd gone out of her way to get him some treats. The hot chocolate being one of them. Darren didn't know whether it was a bribe to get him to talk to her or not, but the reason why didn't matter to him. He hadn't touched the hot chocolate since she set it down in front of him that day.

June had finally bled into July, and the Fourth of the July passed with some festivities that Darren never really experienced before. Alfred baked a Fourth of July dessert, which he apparently changed every year. This time it was a pie decorated into appearing as the red, white and blue flag with a cherry filling and it was delicious. They made barbecue and sat outside, waiting for it to get dark enough for fireworks. Darren had never seen fireworks in person before, and they were as pleasant for a Talon as one would expect. He sat through the majority of the show with his hands covering his ears and a grimace on his face until Dick finally got his noise-canceling headphones for him to wear.

And now the Friday after the fourth of July landed him in Dinah's office once more. It was the last session Darren said he would willingly attend…but he doubted that was the case. Perhaps it was how difficult things had been for him lately or the fact that Dinah took time out of her day to talk to him when he needed her which told him that he shouldn't stop coming to these appointments. Or maybe he would follow through with what he promised himself…he wasn't so sure anymore if that was true. Though to be entirely fair he'd never been sure about giving up on therapy from the start. It was a confounding fact,

"Do we have to talk about this?" He mumbled sullenly from his spot on the sofa. Dinah gave him a wry smile,

"You said you didn't want to discuss what we talked about over the phone or about anything relating to the Court this time around. And 'this' falls under those parameters." They were talking about his mother. Well, Dinah was trying to get him to talk about his mother. It was a difficult topic to bring up. Mostly because her family history ensured that Darren ended up where he had been since the age of five,

"Technically she still falls under the Court of Owls category," Darren stated lightly, though there was a tang of bitterness in his tone. Dinah raised an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything but her pen scrawled across the notebook she always had close by during their sessions. Darren found that he was learning to hate that little blue notebook more and more every week. He glowered at it darkly,

"Perhaps she does, but she was just as much a victim of the Court as you were," Darren winced at that, gritting his teeth at the memory of her death by William's hand,

"Yeah…I guess she was," Darren murmured,

"Did you not consider that before?" Dinah questioned. Darren shrugged,

"My family's always had ties to the Court…but I guess with my mom it was different,"

"How so?"

"They…targeted us. Something changed. I don't know what but something changed that made it so that I had to become the next Talon heir," Darren left at that,

"What was the change?" Darren was silent for a moment, considering whether he should say what he had in mind,

"I guess it was that Dick was taken from the circus and adopted by Bruce," was all he said, "I was born a year afterward…perfect timing I guess." He didn't want her to think he was blaming Dick. He wasn't and would never blame him for what happened at Haly's Circus and indirectly what happened to him five years later,

"But they waited five years before taking you," Dinah mentioned,

"Can you imagine a Talon taking care of an infant?" Darren questioned, making a face of disgust. Dinah frowned at that,

"I suppose not," she stated, "But five was still very young for all this to happen. Five years old was very young to lose a mother," Darren curled his hands—laying tucked between his knees and his chest—into tight fists, so tight that their nails bit into the palms of his hands hard enough to draw blood. Darren still felt nothing, as usual, and the half-moon indents healed over before they fully had time to develop,

"What are you really trying to ask?" Darren stated evenly after a pregnant pause between the two of them. He hadn't seen if she noticed his hands and the small smear of blood or if she wrote that all down. All gestures and motions as well as what was said were written down, as she was required to record,

"You were there, weren't you? You saw what happened. I can't imagine what it had felt like to witness such a horrific moment,"

"A horrific death you mean, attack…murder. Whatever. You don't have to sugarcoat anything around me," Darren stated lowly,

"No, I guess not," Dinah murmured, "You still haven't answered my question,"

"Yes. I was there," Darren stated. Dinah waited, patiently for a moment before leaning forward slightly,

"And the rest of my question?"

"You didn't ask anything else," Darren stated snidely. Darren couldn't help it. His mother's death wasn't what he wanted to discuss…though to be honest nothing mentioned in this office was something he wanted to discuss, "If you want a specific answer ask an actual question," he didn't mean to be rude, this conversation was just grating on his nerves and indirectly affecting his attitude,

"You were five when your mother was killed. What did you feel? What did you think…how do you feel now looking back on that moment?" Darren stewed in silence for a few minutes. Trying to decide what to say,

"Are you wondering if it was terrible? If I mourned…if I miss her? I do…I miss her a lot. Did I wish she were there to help me survive Court? Yes. Did I wish she was there dry my tears and help me with my wounds when I was hurt in the Nest? Yes. Did I wish that she hadn't died? Of course, I wish she hadn't died. Nothing will change that…but it's hard to mourn someone you don't really remember," Darren got choked up, a feeling blooming in his chest he hadn't really felt in a while, just in short bursts throughout scattered moments in the Nest or when he finally visited her tombstone in the cemetery in December. It was startling and an almost new feeling. It was all unnerving,

"I was there…I should have done something." Darren hadn't meant to let that slip; he didn't mean to mention that,

"Darren, you were only five years old. There was nothing you could do," Dinah stated evenly, "You couldn't have known,"

"I tried…I did…I tried to get help," Darren murmured,

"Then you did do something,"

"It wasn't enough…and now she's gone because of me,"

"Darren, this guilt is misplaced. You were a child," she wasn't chiding him, she was trying to comfort him…it wasn't enough to change his mind. He knew he could have done something differently, he just didn't know what that was. And because of his inaction his mother was gone forever, "Your action or inaction couldn't have-," she started, but Darren plowed, he couldn't help it. He didn't want her comfort, not with something he has considered since it happened,

"I can't remember her voice. Or the stories she used to tell me, just the one about knights and kings and kingdoms and that's because I recited it to myself so many times alone at night in the Nest. I barely remember her face…I have to look at her picture in order to remember." Darren choked out after a moment of silence; he would trace his mother's frozen face on the only picture he had of her in desperation to not forget. Dinah's expression clearly said she wondered whether or not she had gotten through to him regarding his guilt and failure to stop his mother's death. Perhaps she had wanted to continue on with that, but he went on ahead, away from that topic and onwards to his lack of memory,

"I don't mourn her death; I mourn the life she and I could have had together without the Court at our backs. I mourn each of my memories as they disappear because of what William did to her…to us," the name of his great-grandfather threw him for a moment, pushed him back into the past and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

Darren could only see William in front of him, hissing about how he should have been in that car with her…how much easier it would have been for the Court. Darren couldn't help but think if that had happened Dick would have never found him, he didn't know what would have happened to him then.

Electrum could heal wounds without turning the person into a Talon as long as they were still breathing…they would have healed him and kept him hidden away in the Nest for the rest of his eternal life. He wouldn't be allowed outside the compound; he'd never have been allowed out into the city unless it was to complete a mission…he'd never see the sun again unless it was through a barred window. Darren would have been even more of a prisoner than he formerly had been.

Time must have passed as Darren sat there, trying to decipher his swirling thoughts. Flickering between what was and what could have been…trying to tear his way from the dark recesses of his mind as memories wound themselves around the forefront of his mind…as they pulled him deeper and deeper into the past.

Darren was having a panic attack, borne from his memories of his mother or lack thereof and spurred by remembering William, the Court and everything they took from him and are still taking. Darren couldn't breathe, it felt like claws were tearing up his chest, which threw him to think of the claws Talons wore, which brought him to thoughts of Asher and then to Sophie and finally back around to his torture and just an endless cycle of his worst experiences and memories. He was shaking and gasping for air.

The air seemed thick, and he wasn't sure if the buzz he was hearing was the air conditioner or screams echoing off the walls. He felt paralyzed in the memory of the whip cracking in his ear—causing him to flinch—and the sickening sound of skin splitting on his back. It seemed there was nothing there to ground himself, it felt like this attack was going to destroy him when suddenly a hand was held out just within sight,

"Take my hand," A voice instructed…Dinah…Dinah instructed. He stared at her hand, his vision seemed doubled, but he could see that she offered her hand, palm up, for him to take. Without thinking he reached for the hand, grabbing at her wrist and holding on as if she were catching him up on the high flying trapeze. Dick had been teaching him some trapeze tricks, and he would catch Darren around the wrists when they practiced. The thought of his cousin calmed him down enough to hear what Dinah was saying clearly. The terrors of the past, their phantom sounds fading to white noise,

"Tell me five things you see," Dinah stated calmly. Darren took a breath, choked on it and then took in another trying to understand what she was doing and how this could possibly help anyone,

"T-the…the rug," he finally managed to warble out,

"Okay…good. What else," she stated calmly, her hand still caught firmly in his tight hold. He wondered in the back of his mind whether his grip was too tight, but it vanished, replaced by the memory of William's fingers locked in his hair, tugging him down the long hallways to the dark room he tortured Darren in,

"H-hot chocolate," Darren mumbled, his voice threw himself back into the present. He gazed intently at the steaming mug. He was shaking; the room was spinning, so he looked away from the confines of the office, "The…the city. Gotham's skyline,"

"Keep going…breathe Darren," Darren sucked in air once more and continued with Dinah's prompts,

"The d-desk, the…the figurines," he gestured with his free hand to the tables in front of the floor to ceiling windows,

"Now tell me five things you can hear,"

"The clock," he stated quickly, his trembling stilling ever so slightly, "The air conditioner…the water in the Gotham Harbor…the—the train that just went by," he paused for another moment, gathering himself and taking a breath, then tilting his head slightly as he listened for something else to mention,

"My…my heart," it pounded and roared with life…he was alive, and he was away from William and the Court. His breathing was finally even…he realized that Dinah had helped center himself and he couldn't quite believe everything had come back into focus, into reality so quickly. Darren took another deep breath and glanced at the hand that he still held,

"There…better?" Dinah asked, "Are you coherent?" Darren nodded slowly as he disentangled his hand from her wrist,

"Yes…I…I'm all here. What…what was that?" Dinah remained seated on the coffee table, and she silently handed him the mug of hot chocolate to him which he carefully took. It smelled good…it reminded him of the manor and how Alfred put some dutch chocolate powder on top of the whipped cream for him because it was his favorite. Darren took a hefty sip, the drink warming him down to his toes…and he felt even better than he had initially coming into the room,

"A calming technique someone taught me. The brain can't panic and focus on something else at the same time," Dinah was quiet for a moment, letting Darren drink his fill, "It's interesting, and I'm telling you this in confidence Darren. Dick, when he was much younger, would hold onto my hand the same way when he had panic attacks,"

"It's how acrobats catch each other on the trapeze," Darren explained, "He's teaching me,"

"I'm sure he's glad to have a partner to practice with finally," Dinah stated pleasantly. As if Darren hadn't just had a breakdown on her couch right in front of her, "Now I understand this has been a difficult session for you, and I completely understand if you would like to end it for today and we can pick this up next week instead. What would you like to do? The choice is yours." Darren stared at her silently.

That sentence was the perfect opportunity. The best moment to back out and never return. A moment given to him earlier than he anticipated. He could leave and say that he never wanted to come back. But as he looked at Dinah, then down into the drink cupped in his hands, and finally, around the office, he'd come to get used to he realized something had changed.

Darren was silent for another moment or two before replying in a quiet, muted voice,

"I think I'll stay."

Darren was interrupted from sulking in his room after the official end of his therapy session by Bruce of all people, knocking on the door. In the continuation of therapy Darren was forced to discuss his feeling of guilt regarding his mother's death, and while he didn't like being somewhat forced into that situation, it did ease some of the toxic mindset he had towards his perceived role in his mother's demise. Canary seemed convinced there was nothing he could have done, but he upon witnessing the catastrophe felt differently. They wouldn't agree, but he understood the reasoning Canary gave to him and by doing that lightened the burden he carried since that night.

Bruce poked his head in, and he looked extremely serious and thoughtful as well as awkward and uncomfortable though he hid it well. Darren was just good a reading people, much more so than Bruce was good at hiding his discomfort. Darren didn't know why he was there or what he wanted and frankly, he wasn't in a very good mood at the moment. He glowered at Bruce, standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot slightly as if trying to decide what to say,

"What?" Darren demanded, pulling off his noise-canceling headphones, he didn't want to deal with anything Bruce had to say at the moment, and he wanted him gone as soon as possible. He'd humor the man for the moment,

"We need insight on the situation with Slade," Bruce stated, and Darren tensed at the mention of his father, "As well as on what Ra's al Ghul is planning on doing regarding his imprisonment. If he comes to Gotham, it could be problematic, and it could put you in more danger," Darren bristled for a moment, unsure of what to say and also unsure of what Bruce was trying to say,

"Okay? How are we going to do that?"

"There is an informant…who knows your father very well. I've set up a meeting between him and Matches Malone," Darren raised an eyebrow, still not seeing why Bruce felt the need to tell him all this. Matches Malone was a gangster and arsonist that Bruce took on as an alias after Malone's death. Bruce as Matches would use his famed name to gather intelligence on the criminal underworld of Gotham and insight as to new or different directions to take the cases Batman was working on presently. Matches didn't need Darren, and he certainly didn't need Renegade. On top of that what kind of informant would willingly give up information on his father…unless Slade was allowing this meeting somehow from his prison cell. Darren couldn't quite wrap his head around this whole situation,

"Why are you telling me this?" Darren questioned after waiting for Bruce to continue,

"He had one condition," was all Bruce said,

"And what was that?" Darren asked, disgruntled,

"You."

Moments later Bruce Wayne as Matches Malone and Darren were wandering down a seedier district of Gotham. Heading for a bar that many criminals spent their time when they weren't running from the cops or Batman. The light rain dampened the hood of the sweatshirt he had pulled low over his head and sent a chill through his bones.

If people got wind of Darren Crowne hanging out with Matches Malone and where most criminals entertained themselves in general word would get around, and that wasn't what they needed at the moment. Negative news about the Waynes that involved Darren would hurt their chances in court and possibly bring CPS back on their doorstep. They couldn't risk it, so Darren while not in disguise like Bruce, had to hide his face as best he could.

It was uncanny how a simple addition of facial hair, some sunglasses—at night no less—and an added scar via makeup changed the entire facial structure of Bruce Wayne's visage. The disguise wouldn't fool a Talon, Darren could tell it was makeup and fake hair a mile away, but it could definitely deceive many if not all civilians who even glanced in his direction. Superman's glasses as Clark Kent made more sense to Darren now that he strode down the street alongside Matches Malone than it did a month ago.

As they turned another corner, Daren couldn't keep his mouth closed any longer,

"Who is this guy and why does he give a shit about me?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Who knew what eyes and ears were out on the street, even a whiff of someone potentially recognizing him could be disastrous,

"He's an old associate of your father's…they've had a long history together,"

"What kind of history?" Darren muttered. 'History' was never a good thing. Having a history meant grudges and hatred, it meant conflicting motives, and it really did nothing to bring Darren to trust this man. Bruce could be bringing them both to a trap. And Bruce's rules be damned he wasn't in the mood to hold back with these people. Not right now and certainly not when he was wound up this tight. Meeting with this stranger was driving Darren haywire,

"He saved your father's life and in return Slade saved his. He kept close to the family ever since," Darren frowned at that bit of information. Just saying 'the family' in that way created a separation between him and his other siblings. That detachment had always been there Darren knew but coming from Bruce it sounded purposeful. Like he intended to create that isolation from that half of his family. Rose, Grant, and Joseph all had the name Wilson while Darren was a Crowne, he would never be a part of that family or that of the Graysons. Perhaps by blood, he was their family, but in name not at all. Some would argue it wasn't essential to share the name with those who were your family but to Darren, it was just more proof he didn't fit anywhere in this world of vigilantes, mercenaries, assassins, and civilians. Darren glowered at the ground as they continued on their way and was shaken from thoughts about his family as Bruce continued, "He practically raised your sister,"

"Oh," Darren muttered, it was all he could get out. He didn't know how to react to that. They continued on in silence until finally reaching the meeting location. The bar was buzzing with energy, music and loud voices. Boisterous drunkards meandering around and picking fights with each other. Bruce calmly forced his way through the crowd, some semi-aware members even scuttled out of his way as he passed by, while Darren had to shoulder people out of his way. Some even whirled into him, full force, but the effect didn't even rock him. In fact, the drunks just bounced off and sulked away with bruises.

Darren followed Bruce to the corner of the building, a booth in the back which seated a single occupant who stood to great them. It was a tall, well-built man, with shocking white hair and light, clear green eyes that eyed Matches with slight steel in them as they approached. The man was old…older than his father but well built. A man used to fighting and training and battle. Darren wondered if his father would look similar if he actually appeared his age,

"Matches Malone. So glad you decided to show up," the man said, but his eyes had skipped over Bruce entirely and settled on Darren instead. He couldn't help but tense up over that analytical gaze, sharp as a knife and dangerous enough to miss nothing,

"Wintergreen," Bruce monotoned, he disguised his voice as well. Darren made a face at the sound, it was odd to hear him talk so differently, "I've brought the boy as you asked,"

"I wonder how you managed to pull him away from his own personal fortress," Wintergreen held an accent similar to Alfred's, it was clear he was British. Darren kept his expression neutral as he pulled back his hood. Wintergreen eyed him for a moment before shaking his head in slight disbelief,

"Like looking in a bloody mirror. You look a lot like your father young man, though I don't understand how the fuck he keeps making blonds. Joey, Rose…you, it's baffling, to say the least." He didn't sound like the sort of person his father would work with or even associate with…he sounded more like an eccentric grandfather than anything, a bit more gruff and harsh but still somewhat like a long-lost family member. The thought made Darren scowl; he couldn't help it, nothing made sense with this guy. Wintergreen was clearly trained for some kind of fighting, perhaps military, yet his role at his father's side didn't seem to be all that sinister. The contradictions kept Darren on guard, Darren didn't trust this man or his interest in him at all.

He'd have to find out more about him once they got home…if they got back and this wasn't a trap. With that on his mind Darren glanced around the bar, taking in all the exits, the people, the windows and potential weapons as well as looked for video cameras…they'd have to erase the video footage if there were videos with a glimpse of him within the area. All it took was a quick glance around the area before he settled his gaze back on Wintergreen,

"You've seen him with your own eyes, now tell me what you know about Ra's al Ghuls plans for Slade and Darren," Bruce stated,

"Why do you of all people want to know? Your interest in Darren seems quite farfetched. If Slade had any control in the matter, he would have been placed with me—," Darren shifted closer to Bruce by half a step, eyeing the room and waiting for an inevitable attack,

"—Not with that bumbling idiot Wayne kid,"

"He's not an idiot," Darren couldn't help but snap. Wintergreen raised an eyebrow but said nothing,

"If the League of Assassins come to Gotham it could stir up trouble. I need to know how far Ra's is willing to go to get Slade free," Matches stated, his expression bored but his voice firm, "Business could be hindered, and I don't want any of my people ending up dead." Darren didn't know whether Matches Malone held any power here in Gotham at present, but it seemed to convince Wintergreen,

"From what Slade and I discussed not much has changed. He's still focused on going after Slade's family, the kid included," Darren wondered if he knew why Ra's was so keen on capturing Darren along with his brothers. But he didn't feel the need to ask nor did Wintergreen feel the need to reveal what he knew about what Darren really was, not with a stranger like Matches Malone in the room…or perhaps Wintergreen didn't even know himself. Either way it seemed Wintergreen was willing to keep that bit of information from Matches as the guy wouldn't know anything about the Court of Owls' relationship with the Crownes to begin with. He was just a gangster after all,

"What about a prison break? Would Slade attempt to free himself?" Wintergreen shook his head,

"No. He won't escape, Slade didn't want to work for Ra's in the first place especially since it put his children in danger,"

"Bullshit," Darren couldn't help but snarl. Wintergreen threw him an irritated look,

"You don't know what he'd do for family. You should visit him, perhaps you'll gain more insight on his side of things, you, after all, don't know him quite as well as I do" was all he said. Darren glared darkly at the older man,

"No, I don't, but I do know all about what he'd do to his family," he stated coldly. Wintergreen locked gazes with Darren's glare before he grinned, a slow pleased and knowing grin as he pointed a finger at Darren…leveling it with his eyes,

"Right there," he said, wagging his finger at him lightly, "…that's all your father, right there in those stone cold eyes." Darren took a stunned step back reeling from that comment, anger rising to the surface like a blaze of fire in his gut.

Without even a backward glance he stalked out of the bar, his shoulders shaking with anger. He wanted nothing to do with his father. Not after everything he'd done and continued to do. It was hard enough being the son of a criminal; it was even worse to be reminded of that every day by other people. Whether it was his looks or his actions or what he said and how he behaved. Everything was always drawn back to his father. A criminal. A killer. Someone who hurt others, as if Darren was somehow destined to become him one day overnight.

Outside the rain stopped, leaving a slight chill in the air and the earthy smell a summer shower typically brought. Darren inhaled the night air deeply, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm down. His attempt to ignore what Wintergreen had said and ignore the fact that he could have been raised by that man instead of by the Court didn't go over very well, the thoughts and realization still stuck. Such a possibility didn't seem like much of a difference to Darren; he ended up the same no matter what—a killer,

"Darren," Bruce's voice startled Darren. He'd been so focused on calming himself and the conversation with Wintergreen he hadn't heard Bruce approach from the side,

"All anyone ever sees is my father," Darren muttered lowly, "Never her…never my mother," he stared down at a puddle which reflected back his blue-grey eyes, the ones that mirrored his father's, before looking away just as quickly. Bruce was quiet for a moment before lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. Darren didn't care enough to shrug the handoff, and when Bruce realized he wasn't going to push it away he spoke,

"I knew your mother…not well, but I knew her," Bruce paused, "I don't see Slade when I look at you, I see Amanda."

Darren felt a burning in his throat and behind his eyes. A feeling he's never quite known well enough creeping through his chest as he heard no change in Bruce's heartbeat. It wasn't a lie, and the only thing Darren could do was pull his hood up and walk away. Unable to express his thanks with anything more than a simple nod as the two of them made their way back to Wayne Manor.

A/N: The Wintergreen confrontation kind of snuck up on me. I don't think this section of the chapter felt forced or odd; I hopefully explained why certain things were omitted or skirted around while they were conversing and I honestly don't actually know whether Slade and/or Wintergreen know Bruce is actually Matches Malone/Batman. I know Slade knows he's Batman(I mean he did like sneak into Dick's apartment at one point, he's a smart dude, he'd know who Bruce was if he knew who Dick was) but I don't know what Wintergreen knows. So hopefully that all made sense.

I felt I needed some sort of reconciliation on Bruce's part with Darren. It was well past time, and I think expressing what he sees in Darren was really the way to do that. Perhaps it's not best described in this series, mainly because most of these chapters are mostly written in Darren's perspective, and therefore he is not exactly a reliable narrator most of the time. But Bruce's reasons for being so hard on Darren were not entirely because all he sees in Darren is Slade or William but because he knew Darren's mother. Bruce can see pieces of her in his actions, his expressions, how he says certain things or speaks and especially through Darren's hair. Those flashes of familiarity are faint but it's tainted enough by Slade's and William's influence that he's on guard a lot and wants Darren to do better and be better, he wants him to make his mother proud. Both Darren and Bruce lost their mother very young(as did, like, the majority of the Wayne household) but unlike Bruce Darren doesn't remember her enough to need to do something influential which is why Bruce attempting to enforce certain behavior based on his experience and love for his parents results in fights/aggression.

Hope that makes sense and sorry for the long explanation.

I really hope you like this chapter. Let me know if you have any comments, questions and/or concerns! I will do my best to respond either through PM or through the next chapter in the Author's Note.

In other words PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Next chapter on Thursday!