It had been four days since Maura last saw Jane.

Neither of them were out of town, and it wasn't for lack of trying on Maura's part. Although she had been spending more time with Garrett's neighbors, she had always stopped by Angela's first to see if Jane was around or if anyone knew where she was. Frankie said she'd always get home very late and be gone before he got up. Frost also plead ignorance, and Maura was starting to get a little concerned, not to mention bored.

The women in Garrett's part of town weren't that dull, nor were they all alike. Ellen enjoyed having someone to discuss suffrage with, the banker's wife was happy to give Maura some pointers on how to play the violin, and Mary Hunter had expressed an interest in learning how to shoot an arrow (albeit an interest that had yet to be followed up on). They were polite and kind-hearted, just… not very interesting. They were predictable. They were friendly, but it felt more polite than anything. Maura had to wonder if her professionalism was keeping her out of their circle, but that may well have been paranoia. She probably ought to give them a little more time to get to know her.

Still, she couldn't help thinking of something her mother had said. In fact, Maura had been thinking about her mother's advice a lot as of late. But in particular, she believed that Constance Isles wouldn't have felt these women were feasting on the banquet of life. They might not have been starving, exactly, but they weren't going beyond the smallest bites of familiar flavors.

In the past, this would have been more than enough. Women who were happy to spend time with her, to talk with her about things besides fashion? That was a novelty. But it was nothing compared to how she felt when she was with Jane. Jane always kept her on her toes, always surprised her, delighted her. Her friendship was manifested not only in smiles and kind words but in deeds and thoughts. Unlike Garrett, Jane didn't take Maura's friendship or forgiveness for granted. While spending time with the women on Garrett's street, Maura merely felt that she was fulfilling obligations, that she was making Garrett happy. There were worse things she could be spending her time doing, but far better things, also…

Was Jane ignoring her?

Yes, Jane was avoiding her, but for good reason.

When Maura walked over to Korsak's corral for her first horse ride of 1885, she was greeted by the sound of shattering glass. She was startled to see Jane sitting on the fence on the other side of the corral, lowering her rifle when she caught sight of Maura. A quick glance at the ground told Maura that at least three other bottles had met the same fate as the one that had just been shot, and two remained sitting precariously on the fence. She moved a drastic distance to the side, allowing Jane the room to safely knock off the last two bottles. Gunshots cracked through the air like a whip and the bottles were no more. Jane laid the rifle against the fence and walked towards Maura as all the horses, which had gathered together on one side of the corral to avoid getting killed, slowly started to spread out again.

"Hey," Jane said once Maura was within earshot.

"Jane, where have you been?" Maura asked, looking forlorn.

With a shrug, Jane kicked at some of the broken glass by her feet and said, "Drinkin'." She sighed and crunched the glass under the heel of her boot. "A lot. So I been here, mostly. I'd go home to sleep, but spent most of my time here. I didn't want to… I mean, I didn't want anyone to run into me like this." And they both knew that by "anyone," she meant Maura.

"Why've you been drinking?"

Jane sighed again and turned away, leaning over the fence and watching some of the horses chase each other. "The killer. We're close, but not. We could maybe find out something real for once, or it could just be another dead end." She punctuated the end of the sentence with a frustrated kick to the fence. "And I swear I'm about to go crazy from it all. I may just about lose my mind yet."

Maura walked up next to her, placing a hand on Jane's back, and without thinking, Jane closed her eyes and inclined her head towards the doctor. "Jane, please. Tell me what you found out. Talk to me."

"It's a real mess, Maura," Jane muttered.

"I don't care, I can take it. Please, dear, tell me."

The term of endearment always got to Jane. She had never been called "dear" by anyone except Maura, and she herself had never used it in reference to anyone else. The inherent sweetness in the word combined with the compassionate look in Maura's eyes made it impossible to turn her down.

Jane linked her arm through Maura's and led her the long way around the corral, getting it all off her chest—the revelation that the murderer was following a showgirl, that the troupe would soon be in Green Forge, that Jane's long-simmering vengeance could be coming to a head were it not for all the "if's." That wasn't to mention the "how's." Showgirls were notoriously secretive and mistrusting, they confided only in their own, they thrived on vice. If Teresa was already involved with the killer, they couldn't bank on her switching over to Jake Wyatt. And like Korsak had said, even if she did, that didn't necessarily mean she'd be ready to spill her secrets and his.

"So I guess there's only one thing I can do," Jane concluded. They had gone inside the barn, and were standing in front of a large crate Maura had never noticed before. Jane was staring at it like she was trying to make a decision. "I'll go to Stanley's new place when Teresa's troupe is there. I'll go as Jake, I mean. Take Frost with me. I'll ask around, spread the word about this guy, see if he comes forward."

"And if he doesn't?"

Jane snorted and shrugged again. "Then he doesn't."

Maura hesitated before throwing in her two cents: "I just feel that you ought to—well, as Garrett might say in a game of baseball—you ought to have your bases covered. What if Frost went in and asked after this killer with his reputation as Jake Wyatt's right-hand-man, and you dressed as a showgirl and tried to talk to Teresa?"

With a derisive laugh, Jane kicked open the crate they'd stopped in front of, and Maura raised her eyebrows at its contents. Jane leaned down and took out a small, garish corset and held it up to herself. "I ain't got the figure or the temperament. Nobody'd ever buy it."

And Maura realized that Jane was right. Corsets existed to enhance curves, to move the fleshier parts of a woman's body into a more feminine form. Jane had almost no curves to speak of as she was so lean; her waist was practically nonexistent, and slimming it further could well kill her—and worse, would serve no aesthetic purpose.

For what could have been several minutes, they stood there in silence, Maura fingering the garment in Jane's hand. Jane kept trying and failing to come up with a good excuse as to why Maura should put it on, while Maura's mind was on its own track, speeding ahead full before she came to a conclusion that she should have expected to confound Jane.

"I think you should let me do it," she said.

"What?" Jane shouted, yanking the corset away. "Have you lost your mind?"

With a playful shrug, Maura said, "I don't know that I'd say say so. I may be a bit mad, though, yes."

"I'll say," Jane grunted. "Why would you joke about something like this?"

"Jane, I'm not joking," Maura insisted, now adopting an attitude of utmost seriousness. "I've been thinking a lot about my mother lately. And my father. The two worlds I was raised in. I think because I spent most of my time in Boston, surrounded by that elitist world of high society and my father's encouragement to stay there, I never let myself go in Europe. It was like running around with blinders on: my mother could introduce me to any sort of tawdry people she wished, but I just shut my eyes to them and didn't try to look deeper. I was afraid to. It wasn't until Chicago that I realized maybe my mother's friends weren't as frightening as I'd imagined, because—I could tell she really admired you. And you and I are nothing alike. You would belong more with her set of friends than anyone in Boston."

"How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You take chances, you get messy, you aren't afraid to make mistakes! I'm only just getting it, Jane, I'm only just understanding it! All my mother ever wanted for me was a chance to experience all walks of life."

"And so this has made you want to experience the life of a showgirl?" Jane asked in disbelief. "Maura, you ain't making any sense!"

"Yes, I am! Beyond expressing an interest in the arts, I've never done anything to impress my mother, because I've never tried. I never gave her a real chance, and she's never shared her true ideals with me until we saw her in Chicago! I know what's in my future, my ultimate future—it's in Garrett's part of town, with the women who've never looked past their front gates except to move out here! I want what you have, Jane, I want your joie de vivre!"

"My what?"

"Your passion for living! My mother was right, I only have a limited time left to explore it, before I get married and I—I can't!"

Jane dropped the corset and grabbed both of Maura's shoulders in an effort to calm her down. "Maura, you don't understand what you're saying. You can't have a passion for living if there's a chance you could die. I don't want you to—"

"This isn't just about me, Jane, it's about you, too! You're drowning, and I want to help you!"

"Drowning? What're you talking about? I—I didn't tell ya all of this as some long way of asking for your help!"

"No, no, see, it's something my father used to say when he was training me to anticipate illnesses or other problems people might have," Maura explained. "Say you're in a rowboat, and you come upon a person who is drowning. Would you ask if they needed help, or would you jump in and save them from the water? Telling someone 'let me know if I can help,' no matter how well-intentioned or frequently said, is no real help at all."

Still holding Maura's shoulders, Jane shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Jane, I told you I'd do anything for you. And now I'm offering my help in this particular circumstance because I know you would never ask me to do this."

"You're damn right I wouldn't!" Jane hissed. "It's too dangerous, Maura! If this man really shows up, what if he hurt ya? Hell, what if he killed ya?"

"He wouldn't, Jane! You said he only goes after couples, and besides, you're being paranoid! Why would he even pay me any attention at all?"

Jane almost laughed. "Maura, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Even a blind man would notice ya."

"You're not making sense, Jane," Maura said, that last sentence throwing her so much that she overlooked the compliment. "And I have no intention of letting him see me, anyway. The girls must congregate somewhere before they go on stage, correct? Where only they, and perhaps the proprietor, are allowed?"

"Well—yes—"

"So I'll go there and I'll stay there. I'll talk to Teresa, and then, I don't know, trip myself before they go out to perform or something. They'll assume I'm too hurt to go on, and that will be that."

"You've really given this thought, haven't you?" Jane sighed. "But I can't do it. I can't let ya do it. There's still way too much of a risk." She let her hands slide down Maura's arms before settling in the doctor's own hands, interlocking their fingers. Her voice was little more than a shaky breath when she confessed, "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. You're …the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. You are too precious a person for the world to risk losing."

The sentiment left Maura speechless from its sheer unexpectedness and also the instant realization that no one had ever spoken words like that to her before. Jane rested her forehead on Maura's, and Maura felt her eyes close at the sensation of Jane's breath breaking against her face. After a few moments in this position, Jane shifted her head next to Maura's and embraced her tightly, grasping one hand in her gentle curls.

"This ain't your fight, Maura," she whispered. "It's mine."

It took a short while for Maura to regain the ability to speak. "Jane, you don't understand. You mean—you mean more to me than anyone I've ever known. You've helped me more, you've shown me more, sometimes I even think you've loved me more than anyone I've ever known."

At this, Jane pulled back, though her arms hung loosely around Maura's waist. "I've always wanted a sister," she said awkwardly. "Someone I could love… like a sister." She could say that as much as she wanted, but it wouldn't change the growing awareness her feelings went much deeper than that.

"So have I," Maura returned. "Why do you think I loved Little Women so much? Jane, think if our roles were reversed. Imagine if my father hadn't died of natural causes, imagine he'd been killed. Imagine you were the only person I could trust to help me. Would you even wait for me to ask, or would you offer right away?"

"In a heartbeat, but—"

"But nothing! How is this different?"

"Because we're different, Maura!" Jane persisted, taking a step back. "I've had to fight for my life before. I've come up against my fair share of rogues! I've been on death's door, I've had to kill men to save myself, I've taken it—I've taken the scenic route to hell! And I'll be damned if I let you anywhere near it for my worthless sake!"

"There's that word again!" Maura cried, starting to get frustrated. "Jane, you are not worthless! Not to me, not to a wealth of people! And you're talking as though I expect to corner this man myself and threaten him. I don't! All right, the costume may be risqué, but nobody will see me in it but the other girls! That's fine, I've done that, I've been seen in less by countless other women! Maids, neighbors, friends, getting ready for a day or a dance."

"Not women like these," Jane growled. "They're vulgar. They'll be rude to you."

"I've spent sufficient time in Paris, Jane. I'm accustomed to rudeness."

It was intended as a joke to lighten the mood, but all Jane caught was the impish attitude she felt had no place in their current conversation. "Good Lord, Maura! Be serious!"

"I am, how can I prove it to you?" Although Jane's arms were still crossed and she was shaking her head, Maura sensed the woman's resolve was beginning to crumble, at least a little. "Jane, listen. I would not be in any real danger. You go to Stanley dressed as Jake Wyatt and tell him you insist on my performing there with Teresa's troupe. You or Frost will escort me to their dressing room, where there will be no one except the other girls—if it'll make you happy, I'll even search the room or let you do it to make sure no men are hiding there. And if there is, we'll call it off and I'll leave. But if it's clear, Frost can wait outside the door and make sure nobody comes in. Ask Stanley to double the security if you feel it's warranted. I'll talk to Teresa while they all get ready and I'll try to find out what I can. When the time comes for them to go on stage, I'll trip and say I'm too hurt to go on. None of the men will ever see me. I'll even wear a robe if Frost takes me up so he won't see me. Then he or you can take me home whenever you feel it's time to leave. I'll always be with someone. I'll always be protected." Jane only looked up at her when Maura stepped forward and cupped her cheek. "Don't be proud. Let me do this for you."

"I've already told ya," Jane whispered, reaching up for Maura's wrist. "I ain't sayin' no because of my pride. I don't want you to have to leave the safety of your world."

"What world? Garrett's world, my father's world? What about my mother's world? I grew up with nothing but my father's disdain for it, never questioning his attitude and always suspicious of my mother's. She once snuck me into the Moulin Rouge, Jane!" When this elicited no surprised response, Maura sighed and said, "Believe me. Anything I might see in Green Forge would pale in comparison to what I was exposed to there."

Jane's eyes widened as she tried to visualize what Maura might have seen at this place. "That don't matter, Maura. What about Stanley, what if he sees ya? He'll recognize you!"

With a smirk, Maura bent down and took a red-colored wig out of the same crate that the corset had been in. "I daresay this looks rather realistic. Another casualty of some poor traveling troupe accosted by Jake Wyatt?"

"Maura—"

"I should think this, along with some face paint, would make me a bit unrecognizable to someone who knew me as little as Stanley," Maura said. "And if you're really that worried, Jane, just tell him not to look at me too closely." Her gaze traveled down to the pistol holstered at Jane's hip, and it lingered there before traveling back up to Jane's eyes. "I get the feeling you're pretty good at getting people to do as you say."

Jane gulped and leaned back a bit. "Careful, Maura. Flattery won't get you nowhere."

"I just think you're overreacting," Maura said. "If you're worried about corrupting me, you've already done that. You've taught me how to shoot, you've gotten me to swear, you taught me how to play cards, you had me smoke one of your cigars, and you even got me to wear pants! At this point, I shouldn't think baring a little skin to some other women is the most salacious thing I've done."

Maura's outlook on the situation was starting to wear down her friend's resistance, and Jane was even able to manage a smile. She couldn't believe Maura's tenacity, and eager as she was to accept it, she still felt hesitant. "It ain't those other women I'm worried about, Maura."

"Well I can't see who else you would be worried about, as I've already outlined a pretty good plan to keep me from having to interact with anyone else." When Jane still seemed reluctant, Maura said in a more gentle tone, "Please, Jane. You've done so much to help me."

"I never risked my life for ya," Jane pointed out.

"You chased down the man who stole Garrett's money for me," Maura responded.

"Okay, well what about lying?" Jane asked, going for a different tack. "You said you can't lie. How could ya tell those girls you were one of 'em?"

Maura shrugged. "I wouldn't. You would. Or you'd tell Stanley, at least. All I have to do is show up in costume, and I won't have to actually say anything about it."

"They're going to ask you things. They'll ask where you've worked before, where you've performed before."

"Well, I'll tell them. I've worked all over the world. Not as a dancer, but still. They don't need to know that."

Jane wearily shook her head. "You ain't gonna take 'no' for an answer, are ya?"

"Glad you're catching on."

"Dammit, Maura, be serious," Jane muttered again. She folded her arms and looked her friend steadily in the eye, waiting for her to crack, to change her mind, to realize the insanity of her request. When Maura did nothing but smile back at her, Jane huffed and said, "You do not leave their changing room, and you do not go inside it until Frost and I have both searched it thoroughly. If it looks all right, Frost does not leave his post outside that room, and I get at least two other trustworthy men to guard it with him. You are never alone, especially not with Teresa. You are disguised beyond recognition and give no one your real name. You carry either a knife or a two-barrel pistol." Her tone was dark and unrelenting as she walked Maura up against one of the stable doors, and Maura felt herself getting flushed under the intensity of Jane's gaze. "And after all that," Jane finished, "I still ain't sayin' yes."

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Maura asked. "Try on that corset?"

Jane blinked and then glanced over her shoulder to look at the forgotten garment. Turning back to Maura, she asked, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well it might prove at least part of the depth of my dedication," Maura said. "That isn't a regular corset, Jane. It's more akin to a medieval torture device than clothing."

"Good Lord, is it safe to wear?"

"I believe my medical expertise will come in handy in that regard. I know my limits."

And then she started unbuttoning her jacket. "Maura! What're ya doing?" Jane almost shouted.

"I'm going to try on that corset," Maura answered.

"What—in here? It's filthy! Your clothes are gonna to get dirty!"

"They're my riding clothes, so I already came with the assumption that they would," Maura said, shrugging off the jacket and putting it on a nearby outcropping nail. "Did you not notice I'm wearing my riding pants?"

"You're—but that's a skirt."

"I know. Adelaide's very clever, and she showed me how to convert it, see?" Maura asked, tucking the material between her legs to show Jane what it would look like if the skirt was in its split form. "It makes getting dressed to ride much easier. Would you bring over the corset and shut the door? It would be a bit awkward if someone were to walk in at this point, not that anyone really comes up here."

Jane turned on her heel and headed over to the door of the barn, muttering "this is crazy" under her breath several times. Why was she allowing this behavior? This couldn't go anywhere. No matter how many precautions they took, it would still be too dangerous to allow Maura to come along… right? Right. Yes. She closed the doors and lowered the plank that worked as a lock, ensuring their privacy. You can't let her do this. You can't let her do this, Jane thought, but that didn't keep her from stooping down to pick up the corset.

Maura was now down to her white sleeveless top and pantalets, halting Jane in her tracks. "I'm afraid you're going to have to help me with that," Maura said, nodding at the corset. "I wear ones that tie across the front and I can do them myself."

"Uh—I ain't never, um…"

"That's all right," Maura said, taking the corset and turning around so her back was to Jane. "I'll tell you what you to do." She slid into the corset with a small gasp: the silk felt wonderful, if not a little naughty—which she supposed was a feeling she was going to have to get used to, and fast. Its bright red color stood out against her white underclothes in the most spectacularly wicked fashion. Taking a quick breath to steady herself, Maura put her arms around a nearby beam and said, "Ready?"

"No."

She waited a few more moments. "Ready now?"

"Yes." Jane's throat was dry as she walked over. "Wh-where do I start?"

"The top three laces should be pulled down when you tighten them, and the bottom three pulled up," Maura said. "So go ahead and start, top to bottom. And don't try to go easy on me, Jane. Pull as hard as you can."

With trembling hands, Jane wound the top laces around her fingers, and with a shaky inhale, gave them a fierce tug. She winced when Maura groaned and tightened her grasp on the beam, but she was quick to tell Jane it was all right, to keep going, and to go harder. Jane swallowed hard and did as she was instructed, yanking down and then pulling up where necessary. She had hoped that reaching the last laces on the corset would mean she was done, but then Maura explained that she needed to loosen and pull on the laces where they crossed over, as if she were loosening the laces on a boot. Then the process had to be repeated several times.

"You have to do it this way, not just all the top at once or all the bottom at once," Maura said, sharp breaths interrupting every few words. "Or else it'll come loose."

"Okay."

"And keep doing it until you can't loosen the strands in the middle anymore. That's how you'll know when it's done."

It took quite a while before Jane felt she had reached this step. "Now what?"

"Take the third," Maura gasped, "and hold it near the bottom, I mean sort of put your fist around the part closest to the corset. And then pull down as hard as you can." Maura was gripping the beam tightly, bracing herself for the familiar but no less welcome pain. She gasped when Jane pulled, feeling as though every breath in her body had been expunged. Still, she managed to choke out, "Tighter!"

"Tighter?" Jane asked in a voice that indicated she thought Maura was insane.

"Yes, Jane, tighter! Oof!" She winced when Jane acquiesced—they were getting so close to being done now. "All right, the fourth one now—same thing—but pull up."

Jane did the best she could with her sweaty fingers. She felt the hair on her neck stand on end when Maura groaned loudly and hooked one leg around the beam, pulling herself into it. The doctor urged Jane onwards, turning and nearly biting the bare skin of her shoulder in an attempt to stifle the sounds of her pain and what she was starting to suspect might be audible evidence of her arousal. Or she thought she was aroused, at least: that area was throbbing again, but to be fair, so was every other part of her body, with a vengeance. Especially her chest—oh, how that hurt! Glancing down at her own décolletage, Maura was able to tell that this was by far the tightest corset she had ever worn.

"Are you all right?" Jane asked, sounding nervous as she stepped back.

Maura nodded, trying to speak. "Just—tie it now, tie it!"

Jane hastily made a clumsy bow with what remained of the laces, and after a few long moments, Maura felt able to stand up without the help of the beam.

She was almost blind with agony, which was probably a good thing because it meant she didn't see Jane's expression when she turned around. Jane took another step back and felt her jaw drop. It was perplexing: she had seen showgirls in these costumes before, but had never been so singularly focused on anything like she currently was on Maura's spectacular breasts. She knew it was indecent to stare, but it felt impossible to look away—she had never seen anything so beautiful in recent memory - maybe ever. Her train of thought had barely been allowed to leave the station before she chastised herself.

What the hell, Rizzoli? Stop!

"Talk to me," Maura panted, not noticing when Jane started to shake her head, as if to physically clear her mind.

"A-about what?"

"Anything, just—I need to get used to wearing this," Maura explained. "Otherwise—they'll know I'm a—fake—if I keep talking—like this!"

She was starting to waver, and was about to fall forward. The nearest stool was several feet away, so in lieu of a better option, Jane hurried to catch her. Maura collapsed into Jane's strong arms, her greatly heaving chest pressed against Jane's. Jane stood stiff as a board, not wanting to move until Maura was steady, but that was taking longer than she had expected. Maura's grip tightened a bit as she struggled to maintain her current height. Her arms were cumbered awkwardly around Jane's shoulders, her flushed face pressed against Jane's neck and collar. It took about half a minute for her to realize what an intimate position this was. She looked up to see Jane's jaw clenched, her eyes staring resolutely ahead.

"Jane," Maura whispered, her breathing still shallow. She wanted Jane to look down at her without needing verbal instruction to do so, but that seemed to be a long shot.

"Y-yes?" Jane stammered.

Maura's voice was soft: "Look…why won't you look at me?"

That worked. Jane couldn't answer honestly, even to herself, and she was unable to think up a good excuse. She lowered her head the slightest bit, allowing her to just barely look into Maura's wide eyes. For a few long moments, they stared at each other as Maura waited for inspiration to come. It dawned on her that if she stood a little higher on her toes or Jane bent her head just a little, they would be in the perfect position to kiss.

Jane wished she could will her hands to stop shaking, as they were resting on Maura's lower back and the doctor could surely feel them trembling.

Finally, Maura spoke the words that would come to change everything: "You look as though you're going to kiss me."

Maura hadn't been jesting or joking around; her tone indicated an honest observation. Her eyes, though, were far from so impersonal. There was sort of a defiance there, as if her statement had been a challenge, a dare to Jane. Maura hadn't intended for those words to sound so sensual, but her filter had just shut off and she was unable to pass off the remark as a teasing one, the way she had meant for it to sound.

After a long silence, Jane smirked and gave Maura a playful shove away. "Too bad for you, Jake Wyatt don't mess around with engaged women." She cleared her throat. "Besides, it only looked that way 'cause you were holdin' on to me so tight, ya weakling! I thought you said you'd worn corsets before."

"I told you, nothing like this," Maura said, unable to summon sufficient breath to laugh along with Jane. "Keep talking—keep making me talk."

"Well…if you did this, you'd need a different name," Jane said. "A new history."

"All right. I was almost named Marion, for my grandmother."

"Okay. Okay. Marion. And you'd have to pick a vice."

"A vice?"

"Yes. There ain't no such thing as a virtuous showgirl, Maura. And if we can avoid it, I'd like to distance myself from you. As Jake, I mean. Sure it'd be great cover, but I don't think it'd be a good idea." She closed her eyes and turned around, unable to keep looking at Maura when the woman was so clearly suffering. "And that's only if I allowed you to keep going with this crazy notion that you're coming along. You understand I still haven't approved of it."

Maura started taking small steps across the barn floor, recognizing that it was getting marginally easier to breathe and to navigate space in the corset. "I still think we've outlined enough rules to keep me safe."

Stealing one more glance at Maura, Jane quickly reverted her gaze to the floor again. Keeping Maura safe was one thing. To be honest, at this point, Jane was starting to get more worried about how she herself might act if she ever had to see Maura in that costume again.

A/N disclaimer: Yes, I am the worst of all teases. Sorry! I'm starting to think that may be part of the reason why I update so frequently... I feel guilty about prolonging the Rizzles, so I post new chapters quicker to make it feel like it's coming sooner! Your patience and reviews are really appreciated!