DANIKA!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!

Disclaimer: I own this plot and Wren and the original characters, but I do not own Labyrinth, or the like. I also cannot control Danika, as is evident, by the last chapter.

Oh my… I knew I shouldn't have left my password as 'Mrs.MartiBowie'…Danika was bound to hack into my Fan fiction account sometime or other, with that one…

Review response to everyone who reviewed last chapter: APRIL FOOL'S!! Last chapter was not a nightmare, reality, or even an actual chapter. It was, for those who did not catch on, an elaborate prank, pulled off by Danika.

Okay, okay, and I might have had a little to do with it… but just a little…

So, no, Wren has not lost her mind, nor has she killed herself. Please don't hate me. But feel free to hate Danika, and send her lots and lots a nasty PM's. Lots.

When I confronted her about it, her response was, "I can't believe you suckers fell for it! Bwahahahaha!!"

Yes. Lots of nasty PM's.

(Cookies to PyroSlytherin and Anij who were the only two who suspected - in reviews and PM's - that I did not write last chapter! In fact, you get Danika's cookies. She doesn't deserve them, now.)

Music Recommendations:

I Will Survive by Diana Ross - that's right people. Wren will survive... last chapter was prank!

You Thought Wrong by Kelly Clarkson - Yep, you did. But that's okay. We can be happy now.

The Myth by David Bowie - some relaxing stuff for us all, after that super angsty chapter.

A/N: What can I say about this chapter? I feel like I ought to say something, really. Um… the plot continues? The actual one? Oh, I hope the last one didn't scare too many people away…

In short, on we go with the actual update!

I like small, happy moments. I think they are too few in today's society, really, and if more people understood the value of them, or perhaps if people in the world simply valued them more, there would be a lot less contention out there.

Given the nature of my relationship with Jareth, I suppose we have more of these small moments (true, not all are necessarily 'happy', but honestly, life is what you make it, right?) than most people do. In exchange, I guess, we don't have a lot of big moments, though I have noticed that the small ones often lead us to rearrange our priorities to make room for bigger ones.

But really, consider it. I work full time, and go to school, online. Jareth runs a kingdom. True, the fact that he can magically re-order time does give him a lot of leeway, but he still does have a lot of things to do. Time has a lot of rules, apparently, so it's not always as simple as it seems. Sometimes, if we want to do something together, one of us has to settle with merely being around the other while they work on pressing items.

I learned that, when Jareth had agreed to come with me to a movie. He hadn't been in an actual theater before (with me, at least) and I wanted to take him – he readily agreed to go. I waited for him, but he never came Above… and I started to worry. I went Underground and found him in his study, very angry and frustrated over some treaties regarding trade with another kingdom. It was a simple matter, but would take time, and for whatever reason, he was unable to rearrange time to also come to the movie with me, and was therefore angry.

Just for the record, he's explained some of the rules regarding Time to me, but it's a complicated thing. I don't quite understand all of it… but, from what I gather, he can pretty much re-order it when he needs to, but there are certain times, I'm not sure why, that he can't. It's not very often, but it happens.

And, luck of the draw, it was one of those times. He was not very happy.

I went to him, then, in his study, and sat him down in his chair, gave him a kiss, and let him know it was alright. We could see the movie another time.

He had sighed and said, "It was not the film I was hoping for, Wren," he held my hands tightly, "It was time with you, away from such matters."

I ran my hands over his face and smiled at him, "Well, since you can't be away from 'such matters' at the moment, at least you can settle with me being here. I'll pop home for a little bit, grab a book and maybe my sketch pad, and I'll come here, tonight, while you work." He had rather liked that idea.

On another occasion, I was stressed and pressed with assignments, and so Jareth had wordlessly come and sat beside me as I worked. I wondered how it was that he could not be bored with me, but… it was time together, and I told myself that I sure hadn't minded staying with him while he worked, so perhaps he didn't mind staying with me, either.

So, really, most of our time together was made of small moments. But, I like them.

Of course, I also have to add that since Jareth does get bored easier than most, some of these moments get… interesting.

And it was while I was checking my emails, on a week that was a 'break' in between my online classes, that I was having an interesting moment. What made it so interesting? Well, it started out normally enough. I was clearing out information on my computer from my last class, storing away what I needed to and what not, and also getting ready for my next one. I was at my computer desk, working, and I'd hardly noticed when Jareth appeared, sitting in my beanbag chair (I swear, it's more his than mine, now), spinning crystals intricately.

But, I had a lot to go through. It was taking longer than expected. Jareth was bored. He began staring at me.

I looked at him, "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" he countered, still staring.

I pulled a face, "You're staring at me… it's unnerving to be stared at."

"That would be your opinion, Wren," he said, with a grin, "I do not mind it when you stare at me. I find it flattering."

I glared at him, "Sometime, in the future, I plan on disproving that point with you, but at the moment, I'm busy. Please find some other way to amuse yourself."

He sniffed, "Very well," and he stood, going to my bookshelf. Somehow, though, my bookshelf lost appeal rather quickly and I ended up with him behind me, while I worked, amusing himself with my hair – hence, it was interesting.

Lucky for him, this wasn't something I minded – I like my hair being played with. So I let him, and decided not to look in a mirror or something, until I was all done, and could properly devote time to yelling or chasing, should it call for it.

But the moment was short lived. I saw a 'red flagged' email… sent with importance, from a counselor at the college.

"What…?" I muttered, opening the email and reading it. It was notification that I did not attend the first two weeks of …

"Human anatomy?!" I shrieked, standing abruptly and glaring at the email. "Who the HECK scheduled me for THAT?! I'm not in the stupid nursing program! And… and…" I bent over and looked at the email, "They had me at the ground campus. At twelve to three in the afternoon?! THAT'S WHEN I'M WORKING! WHY WOULD THEY SCHEDULE ME THERE?!"

Jareth was standing back and watching me curiously. "Wren?" he asked in a very soothing voice, "What is the matter?"

I was breathing very quickly, now, "They… someone down at the college scheduled me for a physical class, three times a week, during the day, two weeks ago… but I'm not in that program, I don't go to ground, I do online, I didn't sign up for that class and now…" I glanced again at the email, "Now they're demanding that I pay for the class, and they won't let me attend anymore classes until the balance is settled!"

He shrugged, "Is the cost of much relevance?"

I was near hyperventilation, "Considering I work for the corporate financial department of the college, yes, it is, Jareth. I'm adjunct, or whatever you call it – and so I don't have to pay for tuition, only my books and such. There shouldn't be a balance at all!"

He frowned, raising an eyebrow, "And so what is to be done to correct this error?"

I sighed, "I'll have to go get an appointment with one of the counselors, preferably the lady who did this, who made this error and sent me this email… a," I squinted down at the screen, "Mrs. Flemming… urgh. Whatever. I'll see if I can get in to talk to her…" I turned and walked out of the room.

But, I promptly squeaked in seeing my reflection as I passed a mirror in the hallway, and dashed back to my room, shutting the door behind me. "You," I said, pointing a finger at him, "Undo what you did," I pointed to my hair.

He grinned at me, "What?"

"Don't give me that!" I squawked, "I look like Queen Amidala on crack! Take these strange pigtails… and curls… and, dear me, whatever you've done to my hair, out now, please. I only saw a bit of it, and I don't want to see anymore."

He sighed, snapping his fingers, releasing my hair from the magical crimps and twirls he'd placed in it. "I thought it was darling, my dearling,"

I sighed and headed to the door, "Then remind me to do it to your hair, sometime. I'll be back in a while…"

The counselor's offices were still opened when I had gotten there, and I hurried to dash inside. Hopefully I could still catch the Flemming woman before she left for the day.

The secretary, Janice, I knew well enough. She sometimes came over to our building to deliver messages, and, from what I guessed, she was friends with Bill, my coworker, and so she often visited our area.

"Is Mrs. Flemming here?" I asked Janice, quickly.

She looked up from her paperwork, which looked like it was end of the day stuff, and she was getting ready to leave for the night. "Oh, hello Wren. I think she's in her office still… she might be working late… you're welcome to check – but, wait, aren't you online? And adjunct, at that? She's a ground campus counselor… your counselor is-"

"I know," I said, quickly, cutting her off as politely as I could, "There was a mistake on my account, and she was the one who emailed me about it… I can't start my next class until this thing is resolved."

Janice's eyes bugged, just a little, "Oh, dear, yeah," she motioned to the hallway where the counselor offices where, "Go on and find her. Her name tag was stolen as a joke, but it's down the hallway and to your left, third door. If she's there, she'll help you, right away."

"Thanks," I muttered, dashing away and down the hall.

When I reached the door, I sighed in relief – the light was still on. I knocked tentatively on the door with one hand, the other resting anxiously on the handle.

"I told you, Shawn," hollered a voice inside, "I don't want any coffee, I want my stupid name tag back!"

I frowned and tried the handle, peeking inside, "Mrs. Flemming?"

"Oh," a woman wearing a white business suit with gray pinstripes dropped her pen and looked up at me in surprise, quickly reaching to pull down the reading spectacles that were resting on her nose to let them dangle from the chain around her neck, "I'm sorry, I thought you were the Dean. Come in, please."

I snorted and entered her office, "The Dean stole your tag?"

She rolled her eyes, "He's quite the joker, Shawn is…" she trailed off, looking at me intently before standing and offering me her hand with a smile.

Dang, this woman was… sharp. Not necessarily in demeanor, but certainly in appearance. That was the only word to describe her. She was taller than I was, and certainly thinner, probably in mid to late thirties. She had very dark hair, cut in a short sort of modern bob that was longer in the front, to frame her face, and shorter in the back, to curl up easily. I found her hair to be particularly striking because she had a fair complexion and also wore a white business suit with gray pinstripes – stripes that, I noticed after a few moments under her gaze, matched the pale blue of her eyes. But her hair - my goodness, it was a striking contrast.

Her age, though I could only really guess due to her reading glasses. They were thin, square frames, but clearly not for continual use, only for reading, and so they hung about her neck on a silver chain, laying delicately across the breast of her suit. If she needed reading glasses, and not flat out prescriptions or contacts, then my guess was for the later thirties. Her features, though, surely kept me down to thirties, and no higher, for she was very pretty. Her makeup was very professional and she had manicured nails, but despite her makeup, her features were smooth, only showing a few signs of aging, at best. She still had a young look about her.

"Hi, I just got an email from you today… I'm Wren Neilson…"

Her eyes lit up, instantly, and she looked almost surprised that I was there, in her office. "Oh, Miss Neilson," she said, "I am sorry, but I'm heading out, now, and I really don't have…"

"Oh, please," I said, in a rush, "My next online class starts next week, and I need to get this problem resolved!"

I could tell she was torn over something by the look in her eyes as she hesitated for a moment. She sighed, "Very well, let me pull up your account… you're lucky, I still have your IRN handy…"

I hesitantly took a seat in the chair facing her desk. There are many things that make me uncomfortable, and one of them is dealing with a high-class business woman. Somehow, I suppose in an attempt to truly surpass any man in their field, hard-core business women tended to be just far snottier than the business men. Not that Mrs. Flemming was snotty or mean, but… her sharp appearance gave her a complete no-nonsense look about her. That and the fact that she was just plain beautiful – you might go as far as to call her my physical opposite – and, well… I'm accustomed to getting the brush off from people like that.

So, while this lady was dressed for business, she was a counselor. I tried to keep in mind that it was her job to help out, and if she really was business oriented, then she shouldn't be mean to me. And, besides, I never liked to judge someone on their appearance, if I could help it.

She pursed her lips as she looked at my account, "I'm sorry, Wren, but I don't understand what's so confusing to you about your account. You were scheduled for a class, you never attended it, but you still have fees that are due to your account for it. It is your responsibility as a student here to honor your financial obligations…"

My mouth fell open, "Uh, I know that much. I don't think you're understanding the problem here."

He leaned across the desk, looking very concerned, "So what is the problem?"

I exhaled, ready for an argument, if need be, "The problem is that I work here, over in the finance division. And, I don't do ground campuses, I'm in the online program, because I work all day. I couldn't have taken that class… and, it's not even in my program! That's Human Anatomy! That's for the nursing program!"

She started a little, her dark hair sliding over her eyes, "Oh, really? My word. I didn't know that," she turned back to her computer screen, "Well, then my email must have really freaked you out. No wonder you're so upset!"

I smiled, some of my tension easing, "Yes! I don't pay for anything except my books and the minor fees, and…" I sighed, "… I start my next class this next week, and this has got to get resolved. I don't know how that got on my schedule without me being notified about it."

Mrs. Flemming gave me a very sympathetic look, "Oh, I completely understand, this has got to be a nightmare," she looked back at the computer and moved her mouse around for a bit, clicking here and there, "I am just not understanding why someone would have coded you to that class, and then to the delinquent list…"

I fumbled with my hands, "The more important question is can, you fix it?"

She sighed and looked at the clock on the wall, "I'm not sure that I can, today," she sat up straight in her chair and faced me, "In order to fix it, I need to be able to determine why you were coded incorrectly. I have to search through your account and find where the error is, and, unfortunately, that takes some time. I do understand this is causing you trouble, and could be a hassle-"

"Could be?" I asked, cutting her off. "Too late, it already is a hassle! I have to get my downloads and such taken care by this weekend, for the class that I need to take on Monday. What am I going to do?"

She held up a hand, "I do understand, and I am very sorry – look, I've got plans tonight, and I really need to be heading out, I'm going to be late… but," she sighed, "I do want to help you get this corrected. I really do. I swear to you, if my plans weren't important, I would stay, but I can't."

I slumped into my chair and, propping my elbow up on the arm rest, covered my face with my hand. "It's just not fair!" I muttered, angrily.

Peeking between my fingers, I noticed Mrs. Flemming giving me a strange look, indeed.

I sighed and sat up, "Look, Mrs. Flemming," I started, "Help me out here. I need this resolved by Friday, at least, so that I can get into my class on Monday. How can we make this happen?"

Tapping her pen, thoughtfullly, Mrs. Flemming examined a calendar on her desk. "Okay, so you work for the college, so I can't exactly make an appointment with you during the next couple of work days, can I? Hmm. Friday, though… Wren," she looked up at me, "Do you think you could come here, right after work, Friday afternoon?"

I pulled a face, "I really don't like cutting it that close to the wire, but if I have to, then I have to. I'll be here, right after work. Will you be able to resolve it then?"

"Yes, defintely," she said with confidence, "It just takes time to figure out where things went wrong, who made the mistake, and then getting the tech support people to fix you up. By then, I'll have looked everything over, and just basically have you come in to verify that things are, in fact, ready to roll again."

I nodded as I stood, "Okay, then, Friday. I'll be here."

She stood and reached out to offer me her hand again, "Wren," she said, "I am sorry for all this. I promise I'll get it worked out by Friday, okay? Between you and me, I'm on a deadline – I won't leave you hanging here, and I'm going on vacation right after that, so I have to get it fixed by then."

I blanched, "You'll be leaving?" That meant that, on the chance that she was unable to fix things, I was so screwed.

She patted my hand, "Don't worry, Wren, I promise I won't let you down," her eyes glanced at down at my other hand, which was trembling at my side. "Oh, gorgeous!" She reached out and lifted up my hand to examine my ring. "Where did you get this? It's so… so…" her face drooped a little, "Unique."

I grinned, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason, "Oh, I guess it is."

She met my eyes, "Must be from someone pretty special. If you don't mind me asking, is it an… engagement ring?"

My cheeks went red, I could feel it. "Goodness, no. It was a gift, from a friend."

"Come on, now," she said, turning her head to the side, with a knowing grin, "Just a friend? With a nice blush like that?"

"Well," I hesitated. It was odd talking about my personal life to someone I didn't really know. "At the time, he was just a friend…"

Her eyebrows lifted, "And now?"

I went redder, "He's more. But it's still just a ring, not an engagement ring or anything like that."

She touched the ring briefly before letting go of my hand, "I see. Are you two pretty close?"

I hesitated again. "Close enough, I guess. We're dating, that is."

The fact that I was uncomfortable must have been evident, for she gave me a sad kind of smile, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to pry. I love to hear about happy relationships, you see. I recently got divorced," I had started to say something politely consoling, but she held a hand up to forestall my comments, "A mistake from the beginning, no need to say much on it. We're both happier and better off now, actually, so it wasn't a bitter thing. Not entirely, at least. But, my point is, I like to see young people happy."

"Oh, well, I am. Thank you," I smiled. For a second, I saw her blink a bit more than usual and her smile seemed a bit fixed, but the moment faded quickly. After all, what point was there to not be happy for me? Or, for me to be happy, or whatever the deal was?

"We'll see you Friday, then," she said, highly chipper, as I left her office. I shook my head with a laugh.

"Man, I seem to draw the nuttiest people out of the woodwork, don't I?" I said, quietly, as I left.

Outside, I just started marching toward my car, trying to take my mind off the problem with my classes. I reasoned that Mrs. Flemming (or, should I say Ms. Flemming) was nice and seemed to have genuine concern for me and for getting my account cleared up. Certainly, by Friday, she'd have figured out all the problems, and I'd just have to come in and verify with her that all was well. Really, I probably didn't need to come in at all (though, of course I would, regardless), it was most likely just in case there was something that came up, like a paper I had to sign or something. No biggie at all. Yes, all would be fine, and Monday I would be back in my class, all would be well.

I was sucked so deep into my thoughts that I didn't notice someone calling my name.

"Wren! Hey, Wren!"

Finally, I heard the voice and realized that it was my name… not that 'Wren' is ultra common, but, I just hadn't been listening. I looked up and around, noting a guy jogging up behind me. I frowned at him. He was a broadly built guy, really beefy –

I groaned. It was T.J.

"Wren, hey there," he said, his slightly wavy hair bouncing around his face as he slowed down and stopped. He wasn't even out of breath.

"Hi T.J.," I said, trying my best to sound polite, "What's up?"

He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb, "Ah, I'm here, meeting someone. I just saw you, and thought it was great that you were here, and just had to see how you were doing. Haven't seen you since the night at The Switchblade."

I nodded, "Ah, well, that's how it goes, right? Thanks for saying hello, it's nice to see you…" I continued on my way to my car.

He followed me. "So, how's Orla doing?"

I paused and gave him a look, "Uh, wouldn't you know? Aren't you seeing her?"

"Orla? Oh, no," he waved a hand, unconcernedly, "It was just a few dates. We weren't serious in the least, since she's not my type, really. Oh, sure, she's great to have at a party or at a club, but, not to be rude or anything, she's not very," he hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, "Practical."

I snorted, "Yes, that's Orla, all right. Well, I guess she's doing fine. I don't speak with her much, you know, but I haven't heard any bad news from my Mom or Dad, and I know she keeps in touch with them regularly."

He nodded, "Oh, that's good. I'm glad to hear it."

I hate awkward moments. With T.J., they seem to be the only kind of moments I can have. We stood there, completely silent for at least a minute. He just stared at me, and I just stared at my shoes. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and gave him an awkward but friendly slap on the arm.

"Well," I said, "I guess I'll see you around…"

"Did you have a nice Valentine's Day?" he asked, suddenly.

I blinked, "Um… yeah, I did. It was nice…"

I watched him smile, going a little red, and – oh no. Was he totally getting embarrassed with me? In that, I like you kinda way? He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his shoes around, somewhat nervously. He so was… he was being shy. With me. Someone just shoot me, please.

"So, uh," he stammered, "Did you get the roses?"

I paled, "Peach roses?"

He nodded with a sideways glance. "I hoped they would, you know, give you something to smile about…"

Ack.

"You sent them?" my brain spun quickly, trying to think how to phrase my next words most carefully, "Oh, thank you! I wasn't sure who had sent them, and they were so pretty. They were wonderful to have on my desk at work, all day. I felt very… special."

He smiled at me, "Good. They served their purpose well, then."

Add more awkward silence. Desperate, I did the only thing I could think of to let him know I had to go. I looked at my watch, "Oh, gosh, T.J., I don't mean to be rude, but I need to get going here…"

He nodded, "Yeah, okay… wait."

I looked at him, afraid of what he would say next, "Yes?"

"Wren… I've got a spare ticket to this new band's concert coming up here, and, since you like music, and you did like The Switchblade, I want to know if you'd like to come."

Okay, this was not good. First of all, T.J. wasn't my type. Second of all, I shouldn't be his type. But, most important of all, I had a boyfriend, and he knew that. If I wasn't seeing Jareth, I would consider it, but as it was, no. It wasn't appropriate. At the Switchblade with me, he'd been creepy enough, and that was with my Jareth there, in close proximity. Then, he sent me roses – roses! – for Valentine's Day! And they'd been sent all secret-like… I wasn't about to go to a concert with him, alone.

I sighed, "I can't T.J., I'm sorry."

His face fell, "What? C'mon, Wren, you'll love it! They're this new group called Siren Song, and they're really good-"

I cut him off, "It's not that, T.J., and you know it. You're a nice guy, but I have a boyfriend, who I am fairly serious with. Jareth and I aren't just lightly dating."

T.J. bit his lip, "It doesn't have to be a date. You're fun to be around, you're nice, you love music – we could go just as friends, right?"

I shook my head, "It wouldn't be appropriate, I'm sorry. It just doesn't look right for me to go out to an event with a man I barely know, who isn't my boyfriend. I won't, but I am sorry. If I wasn't seeing anyone, I would totally go."

He hung his head down a little and nodded, "Hey, it's cool. Maybe another time and Jareth can come, too… or something…" he gave me a wave and jogged back in the direction he'd come.

I waved, wincing as I did so. Man, it just wasn't my day, was it?

When I got back home, I half expected Jareth to be there, waiting for me, in my beanbag chair. Unfortunately, he wasn't, which meant he was probably back in the Underground. I sat my bag down, and decided to go visit him, and see what was up. After my day, I just really wanted to be near him.

I popped into the Underground around the corner from his study, and could tell that's where he was. Passing a few goblins who were giggling and poking each other with sticks, I rounded the corner and knocked on his doors before going right in.

He was seated at his desk, unraveling a scroll for something or other, and looked up at me with a smile, "Ah, there you are. Did you resolve your concerns with the Phlegm woman?"

I laughed, coming up behind him and leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder. "Flemming," I corrected, "And not yet. Friday, things should be good to go, she says. So, I have to suck it up and wait until then."

He nodded, then turned and kissed my cheek, "I am glad of it, for your sake, my dearling."

I nuzzled his neck, then looked at the scroll. "So, what's this stuff about? Something come up?"

"As a matter of fact, it did," he motioned to the scroll and frowned, a little, "This will be resolved, easily enough, but it is a trading issue with Milburga."

The name ticked my memory, "Isn't that were Dyer is from? Isn't he a Count there?"

Jareth looked impressed, "Yes, very good, Wren. It merely means that, while I would prefer to simply renegotiate terms, I must take time to be friendly with both Dyer and Myanya and possibly visit, or invite them here…" he trailed off and sighed, "I care for both of them dearly, but they never make it simple. They like to visit."

"Ah, you can be social. I know it." I pulled back and toyed with his hair.

With a sigh, he leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of my fingers going through his hair. With a wicked grin that he couldn't see, I began twisting and turning his hair… and braiding it… and having a wonderful time doing so.

Ten minutes later, there was some kind of loud boom coming from the hall out side, followed by an absurd amount of clucking. Jareth jumped to his feet and headed toward the door, swearing under his breath about troublesome goblins. I covered my mouth, snickering like mad.

Out the door he went, and a minute later the doors opened again. Jareth entered, along with the sounds of much goblin laughter, and he stormed over to where I sat, in his chair, laughing merrily.

"What did you do?" he asked, furiously.

"What do you mean?" I laughed, completely unable to keep a straight face.

"You did something," he said, pointing to his hair, "Tell me what, now."

Jareth stood there, trying to look menacing, but failing at it. No one, and certainly not the goblins (as was evident by the laughter I had heard), could take him seriously when he had tiny braids sticking up, all over his head.

I tilted my head to the side, "I did no more than you did to me, while I was on the computer, earlier."

His eyes bugged and he gasped, slightly, running his hand over his hair. I then watched as he frantically pulled at the braids, struggling as though they were attacking him or something. Knowing he'd probably hurt himself, just trying to get them out, I stood and calmed him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Whoa, I'll take them out, it's just little braids."

He gave me a pointed look, "I will not forget this, Wren."

I moved him over to the couch and made him sit down. I ran my hands over his face, smiling at him while he pouted. "I know you won't… I'm counting on that." And I leaned down and kissed him.

When I pulled back, his pout was gone, and I began to undo the braids.

"Are you sure you don't like these? They're awfully cute, you know – ah!" his fingers dug into my sides, tickling me into submission, "Okay! Okay! They're coming out! Now stop that before I get you're hair all tangled!"

He stopped and met my eyes, briefly. He smiled. I smiled. Yes, the small moments were definitely good.

A/N: Ah, there, that's a much better chapter, don't you think? I hope no one is too traumatized by the last one… I know that I will, most definitely, need much therapy over the next few weeks, to recover.

Loooots of nasty PM's.

To Danika, that is. Not me.

Oh, and review. That'll help me recover even faster.

Much love,

Marti (the REAL Marti. I swear. Though… signing as 'Martina the Magnificent' IS tempting…)