A/N: This chapter is for Rae. Don't hold back... have a blast today, chica!

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ian was sitting on the couch when Lise-Marie walked in from the kitchen bearing two cups of coffee. Still clad in her flannel pajamas, she handed one cup to Ian, which he accepted appreciatively. She sat down next to him, tucking one leg under herself and settling in to watch his favorite morning show. A popular interest story about a pet pig left them both overcome with laughter, and by the time they had caught their breaths, she found herself leaning on his shoulder; more surprisingly, he didn't resist the tepid bit of connection. She was thinking about a second cup of coffee when the show switched to the news.

"In an on-going saga that has Caltech embroiled in a cyber-era whodunit, the school and authorities are in search of the culprit behind a massive security breach that has them combing the area, if not the nation."

Lise-Marie sat straight up, panicked, but trying to conceal her alarm.

"Let's watch something else," she said hurriedly, reaching for the remote.

Ian playfully snatched it away. "One sec," he said. "Just let me catch the baseball recap from yesterday."

"Google it," she said, reaching for the remote again.

He pulled it away again, amused. "You would Google your lunch if you could," he said.

"Seriously, Ian," she said more firmly, but her protests came too late. Her face went pale as her photo appeared in the upper, right-hand corner of the screen. Ian followed her stunned eyes to the television and, just as surprised, he turned up the volume.

"A foreign researcher by the name of Lisa-Mary Zurbriggen," the newscaster reported, "is alleged to have downloaded as many at 100 terabytes of classified information from Caltech servers and their connected networks, some of which contained shared information that had connections to federal research programs."

Horrified, Lise-Marie inexplicably stood up. Then she suddenly sat back down.

Ian looked at her. His face was tranquil: absent of judgment, but he couldn't hide his shock.

"Is this true?" he asked simply.

She looked back towards the TV and just shook her head, struggling for the words. "There are so many lies in there," she said. "My name isn't even Lisa-Mary. One hundred terabytes? That's ridiculous. And, and, and the information was not classified."

"Then what was it?" he asked.

She looked back at him and took a hard breath. She placed both hands over her mouth.

"What is going on, Lise?" he asked.

She looked down, agonized by what she had to say, before trying again. "I got into some trouble."

He looked away, shaking his head.

Lise-Marie grew more frenzied. "I just," she stammered, "I took over Sheldon's job and it was… it was so much; I didn't even know where to start. I never intended to breach anything… I just needed a shortcut… to get up to speed… I just—"

"How do you even know how to hack into servers?" he interrupted.

"I didn't hack in, per se. I watched Sheldon type in his password, and he had a higher clearance than I did. The other tricks I learned from some kids back at the LHC. It was just a joke… back then."

"Who's Sheldon?" he asked.

She shook her head, not even answering. She buried her head into her hands.

Ian rose, walking over to a nearby table, leaning against it on both hands with his head hung down. "What made you come here?"

She rose and walked over to him while keeping a safe distance. "You're the only person I know in the United States," she said. "You're my only friend."

"Unbelievable."

"I did not want you to get dragged into this," she explained. "You have to understand that."

He spun around, suddenly angry. "What I understand is that you haven't changed one bit, Lise-Marie!" he yelled. "You're still a liar."

She was incensed at the accusation, taking a bold step forward. "Don't you DARE call me a liar!" she screamed. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie to you," he snapped back. "I had every intention to come through on my promises, but when I was going down, I had the decency to leave you alone!"

"I didn't want to be left alone!" she yelled. He just shook his head dismissively. But she would not be dismissed. "That is the last thing I wanted."

"What the fuck difference did it make?" Ian shouted. "I was going to prison!"

"It made a difference to me," she said, her voice breaking. "I put my life on hold for you only for you to disappear one day."

"Yeah, well, a lot of people disappeared that day, Lise," he said. "When the shit hit the fan everybody abandoned me, and I do mean everybody. My parents, my friends, my colleagues. My wife said she could take my cheating, but when my money left, she left with it."

"I would have stuck by you. I would have left Switzerland. I would have moved here and I would have waited for you."

He sighed, baffled. "Lise-Marie," he said, pleading with almost pity in voice, "you were just a girl."

"I was a woman," she insisted.

"You were 19. I was 11 years your senior. You father wanted my head on a plate."

"I did not answer to my father. I did not answer to anyone but myself, and I was willing to give up everything for you."

"I was married. You were married."

"I ended my marriage." She paused. "I lo—"

He cut her off and turned his face away, the words visibly overwhelming him. "Don't say that."

His reaction stunned Lise-Marie. "Why not?"

"Because I can't go back there."

For the first time since she'd gotten there, she'd seen some flicker of the man she used to know. "You can't go back, or you don't want to?"

He shook his head, still looking away. "I can't, I won't. Prison was the best thing that ever happened to me," he said, a little short on conviction. "I learned about accountability, and doing things the right way, and letting go of—"

"So you never think about the dreams we had?" she said. "Dreams of greatness. Of doing big things. Of doing those things together?"

He looked back at her, his eyes low. "Of course, I do."

"You have grown soft," she said, continuing. "You used to have hunger, ambition, pride. You used to aspire for great things. Now you have contented yourself with three days of work a month and a life of daytime television. You are more than this, Ian. I am more than this." She took another step forward. "Let's not make the same mistake we made last time."

He looked confused. "What does that mean?"

She gathered her courage before she spoke, but when she did her voice was firm. "Come with me."

They stood staring at each other, unblinkingly. She drew closer, talked faster.

"I am leaving in two days. I am catching a flight to Montana where someone will smuggle me into Canada through a weak spot in the border. From there, I am traveling to Toronto. You can meet me there, where we can catch a flight to Greenland where I have—"

It was all too much. "And why would I do that?" he asked.

She took one final step forward, until she was right up on him. There was barely a hair's breadth between them. "Because deep down inside, I know you can still swim with the sharks." Slowly she put her hands up to his chest. "Do not push me away," she said. "You have no idea how long it has been since someone just treated me with kindness and respect, hoping for nothing in return. I had almost forgotten what it felt like." He didn't move, didn't budge. "Please. Do not look at me like that," she said. She placed her head against his chest. Then she embraced him, strongly, clinging to him, hoping that the tender man that had doted on her chastely for the last few days could be willed back to her. After a moment, she could feel his arms rise, and one hand landed on her back, and one cradled the back of her head. "Please," she said again. "Please," she pleaded. She looked up at his eyes, and he looked back at her, contemplating her face for several moments. Then he put both of his hands on hers, taking them gently.

"You have to turn yourself in," he said.

It felt like a blow to her gut.

"No," she said.

"I'll go with you," he said. "I'll help you."

She shook her head. "I cannot do that." She was pleading. "Do not make me do that, Ian."

He was decided. "You can't stay here," he said.

Fighting back tears, she stumbled away to the living room and began hurriedly stuffing her few belongings into her bag. Ian followed her.

"What are you doing?"

"You don't care," she said.

"I do care," he said. "If I didn't care I would join you in this insane charade."

"Don't talk to me," she said.

He took her arm. "Let me help you."

"You can help me by coming with me," she said through her tears. He just shook his head. "Then I have to do this my way," she said. She grabbed her bag, opened the front and left, slamming the door behind her.

Upon hearing the news that Penny was in labor, Sheldon and Amy exploded into a frenzy of hurried packing. Amy's explosion was considerably larger than Sheldon's, and she was practically beside herself with giddiness. Sheldon, for his part, mostly seemed relieved to have an excuse to leave.

They debated on saying goodbye to their fellow lodgers, before deciding that a farewell note taped to the TV would suffice. Within a half hour, they were on the road.

"Do you think they'll ask us to be Penelope's godparents?" she asked.

"I certainly hope not," Sheldon replied.

"Why not?"

Sheldon sighed and settled back into his seat, signaling one of his legendarily long replies. "Godparents were invented to be the pre-determined spiritual heirs of orphans, vowing to rear their wards according to the tenets of the Church."

Amy was doubtful. "I hardly think Leonard and Penny will make us vow to take their daughter to Mass every Sunday."

"We should be so lucky," Sheldon said wearily. "Today's so-called 'godparents' must fulfill a laundry list of duties to their charges while such children still have two able-bodied, living parents. Duties include obligatory attendance at events varying from recitals to birthday parties, compulsory gift-giving at all major holidays, not to mention the financial obligation to assume the cost of football uniforms and Girl Scout cookies whenever the parents come up short."

"But in return," Amy reasoned, "you get a special bond with your dear friend's child."

Sheldon looked at her with horror. "I can barely tolerate the presence of children that aren't my own."

Amy shook her head. Just then, Sheldon's phone began exploding with messages, alerts and game notifications. His elation could not be contained.

"What joy to be back among the living and clothed of the 21st Century," he said. "I've never been so overjoyed to leave a place in my life."

"I'd love to agree with you," Amy said, "and this excursion certainly made my short list, but that distinction goes to a summer camp I attended in the fifth grade. Within hours of my arrival I fell into poison ivy, and was plagued by a bitter rash for the duration of my two-week stay. I spent more time in quarantine than I spent in my cabin. To this day, I don't know what the other children did. I heard the lake was beautiful."

"I never went to camp," Sheldon said. "Instead, I spent my single-digit years in Vacation Bible School, where we spent our days coloring pictures of Abraham, memorizing scripture and making unseaworthy models of Noah's ark out of popsicle sticks. I insisted on wearing gloves so as not to be contaminated by the saliva of my fellow playmates."

"All considered," Amy said, "this summer retreat wasn't so bad."

"I imagine not," Sheldon said. He looked down at his iPad.

Amy's mind drifted elsewhere, to the party. It had only been a week prior, but it seemed like it had been much longer. A lot had happened. Ugly things. Scary things. Things that had made her very sad.

"Even though Beverly thoroughly deceived us, and rather unremorsefully," Amy said, "I'm glad she did this."

Sheldon glanced up at her for a second before turning his attention back to his iPad. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, six days ago, I thought our whole world was falling apart… everything we hoped and worked for was disappearing before our eyes."

Sheldon looked up, uneasy, without making eye contact with Amy.

"And now?" he asked.

"And now," she said, taking a deep breath, "now, I feel like whatever happens, if we get the house or not, if I get the job or not… somehow everything is going to be okay."

Sheldon looked at her, his face calm, serious. She glanced over at him, absorbing the somberness she was sure he was feeling.

"I'm sorry your project didn't work out," she said. "I know it meant a lot to you."

He looked straight ahead, not saying anything at first, squinting out ahead at the road unfolding before them. "I'm beginning to think that I gave to much importance to the value of that project," he said.

"How so?"

"I got swept up into the stealth and prestige surrounding it, convincing myself—deceiving myself—that it would be my only opportunity to get the professional distinction I covet most. But any one of DaVinci's inventions or creations could have brought him the success he enjoyed. Lightening can strike twice." He sighed and turned to Amy. "Amy, do you remember when we were in the blue cottage on Mulberry Street in Washington"

She nodded.

"A couple days ago, I recalled the research I was doing back then. So much happened then that I never picked it back up. I've started thinking about it again."

Amy looked at his eyes, and saw that spark he got whenever something captured his interest. "You're going to get the Prize someday, Sheldon," she said, without a trace of doubt.

"You're going to get your job, and your career… and your house," he said.

For the first time in days, she believed him.

Lise-Marie opened her purse and handed the taxi driver a fifty. "Keep the change," she said as she alighted from the cab. As the driver pulled away, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In a profanity-laced phone call to her contact in Montana earlier that morning, she'd learned that he was unwilling to budge on their original timeline, and he wouldn't be ready for her for another two days and not a minute sooner. The sky was falling, however, and she didn't have two days; she barely had two hours. She had to leave now. There was no way she could take her chances with a major airport like San José or Oakland, and crossing the border on the road would be too dangerous. Her best chance was here, in a small, regional airport.

Looking up at the façade of the building, she confirmed that she was at the right place: Watsonville Municipal Airport. She took a deep breath and slipped on her aviator glasses. With reflective lenses, they did a superb job of concealing her eyes. She was betting on her charisma and luck to do the rest. She entered the building and walked up to the counter, pretending to eye the limited flight schedules. She bore a single piece of luggage in one hand and a billfold in the other.

"Hello. My name is Nancy," said the young woman seated at the counter. "Will you be travelling on one of our scheduled flights today?"

"No, actually," Lise-Marie said, her dark glasses perched on the end of her nose. "It is my understanding that there is a chartered flight travelling out to Monterrey in the hour. I would like to board it."

"You're nowhere from Monterey," Nancy said, a chuckle in her voice. "Why don't you just catch a cab?"

"Monterrey, Mexico," Lise-Marie said, far from amused.

"Of course. I was only joking," Nancy said, her smile fading. "Indeed, there is one leaving. Let me see your passport." Lise-Marie handed the woman the billfold, and Nancy took a good look at the picture before looking back at her customer. "I'm sorry," she said, "you'll have to take off your glasses."

"Of course," Lise-Marie said, slowly lowering the glasses from her face, praying to the gods this would work. Ian definitely had a type, and his ex-wife was a skinny blonde with blue eyes and, in the picture, was about the age Lise-Marie was now. Nancy gazed at Lise-Marie a long time, before looking pointedly at the photo again. She nodded hesitantly.

"Mrs. North," she said, "I'll need a major credit card."

"Do you accept cash?"

Nancy shrugged. "Well, sure, if you have $1100 on you." Lise-Marie procured her wallet and counted out 11 crisp bills. Nancy took the money from the other woman's hands, examining each bill and authenticating each one with a counterfeit bill marker. Each one, apparently, checked out. Then she turned back to her computer, typing away. She attempted to chat a little as she worked. "So that's an interesting accent you got there," she asked. "Where you'd pick it up?"

"My father was military," Lise-Marie explained. "I grew up abroad."

"Abroad, huh?" Nancy nodded slowly, and Lise-Marie could swear there was a bit of accusation in her tone.

"Yes, abroad," she said, her patience waning. "How much longer might this take?"

"Just a couple minutes, more," Nancy said, still typing away. She lifted the passport from the counter once more, scanning the barcode just inside the cover. The computer let out the sound of a menacing beep. She stared at the screen intently.

"What is it saying?" Lise-Marie said, a bit urgently. She craned her neck towards the monitor, but couldn't see anything.

"One moment please," Nancy said, her gaze fixed on the screen in a way that Lise-Marie found maddening.

"But it's not expired," she said in her own unsolicited defense. "It does not expire until next year."

"I see that," Nancy said without looking up, her tone all business.

"It is simple. I am Karen North, 36 years old, blonde, blue-eyed. The flight leaves shortly, and I would like to be on it."

"One moment please," Nancy said and, passport in hand, headed to the back. There was no door and so, leaning forward, Lise-Marie could see the woman speaking with another man, showing him the passport. Lise-Marie didn't miss the suspicion in the other woman's eyes as she glared at the document and back out at Lise-Marie. A moment later, the man lifted a walkie-talkie up to his mouth, turning his face away. Lise-Marie had no idea who he was contacting, but she knew she had to get out of there—and quickly. Turning around, she walked briskly to the front doors and back outside. She had—at most—a minute, maybe two to get away, and she couldn't chance it on foot. She spotted an elderly man who was unloading luggage from the trunk of his car; a woman she could only assume was his wife stood on the curb a few paces away. Lise-Marie glanced down at her own outfit of a white blouse, navy skirt and… red pumps? Close enough, she thought and, composing herself, she put on her brightest smile and marched forward.

"Hello," she said brightly. "I am your valet. I will be happy to park your car for you."

"Oh, but parking is just a few feet away," he said. "I'll do it."

"Nonsense," Lise-Marie said, slamming the trunk shut. She walked towards the driver's side of the vehicle.

"You should give your back a rest," his wife said the woman on the curb, anxiously. She spoke to Lise-Marie. "He shouldn't have even been lifting that luggage."

"Fine," he said, reaching for his wallet, "but at least let me give the young lady a tip."

Lise-Marie just waved her hand. "None necessary," she said, and then hopped into the driver's seat of the idling car. She managed to drive around the corner and almost out of the parking lot when she heard stirring in the backseat. She looked in her rear-view mirror and saw a little boy sitting there. He wasn't a day over nine.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, surprisingly calm.

She slammed on the brakes. "Nowhere," she barked. "Get out."

Suddenly frightened, the boy scrambled out of the door, closing it behind him. As the lock clicked, Lise-Marie heard the ringing of sirens and tore off again, smashing through the parking gate and hearing her own wheels squeal as she pealed around the corner and down the busy street below.

"A kidnapping would have been most inconvenient," she muttered to herself as she got on the freeway, headed south.

Amy and Sheldon, mercifully spared from the traffic and misfortune that plagued their trip down, not to mention aided by Amy's rather "spirited" driving, got back to Pasadena by 10:00. They raced to the fifth floor of the hospital and, after registering with the front desk, rushed down to the maternity ward waiting room. Unsurprisingly, Bernadette, Howard, Raj, Mary and the twins were scattered around the room. All the usual suspects were there, except for one: Beverly. Upon seeing their parents, Aditi and Robert hopped up and ran to them, hugging their legs tightly.

"Mommy and Daddy!" they cried, and the whole family joined in a group bear hug.

"Pick me up! Pick me up!" Aditi said, jumping up and down. With a grunt, Sheldon complied and then walked over to where his mother was sitting. Amy and Robert followed, hand in hand.

"I didn't think I'd see you two anytime soon," Mary said. "Did you fly up?"

Sheldon glared at Amy. "Our velocity approached levels that came just short of overcoming gravity."

"I couldn't miss the birth of Penelope, now could I?" Amy said. She looked down at Robert, tugging at his hand. "I trust the children behaved themselves."

"Oh, they were angels," Mary said. "Half the time they were just playing with the boys. I barely had to do anything but feed and bathe them and take them for a walk."

"Mom," Sheldon said, "you do realize you weren't dog sitting, don't you?"

"Oh hush, Shelly," Mary said.

"Hold on," Amy said, taking a look around the room. "What boys?"

"The little foreign ones," Mary said. She leaned forward, whispering. "We aren't still pretending they're twins, are we?"

Robert pulled away and went to sit next to Adam, where the two boys started crashing toy cars into each other. Amy could scarcely believe her eyes. A wide smile came over her face. She looked back at Aditi.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, brushing her hand against her daughter's face. "You weren't afraid?"

Aditi just shook her head, jolly and bright. "I can say tatti!" she cried.

"What does that mean?" Amy asked.

"Poop," Howard replied through gritted teeth. He cut his eye over to the corner, where Raj was sitting, silently laughing to the point of tears.

"Adam taught it to me!" Aditi said, smiling from ear to ear.

Mary shook her head. "Still happy they're learning other languages now, Shelly?"

Just then Amy's phone rang. She checked and saw it was the phone number to their rental office. "I have to take this," she said, and walked outside of the room.

Sheldon took a seat next to his mother, placing Aditi on his lap and leaning his head back against the wall. His mind had been racing for the last several hours as he re-entered civilization, but it was finally calming down, and as it did, it inevitably returned to the matter that plagued him most: the house. In the last few days, he and Amy danced around the topic until it had almost become taboo between them, but one simple fact remained: if they didn't come up with the money for the increased down payment by 6:00 that day, the house...

Was gone.

The thought of it put him in a cold sweat. He was Sheldon Cooper, a man noted for his problem-solving abilities and advanced cognitive skills, and yet nothing was coming to him. He racked his brain, combing his mind for every possible option, but no solution emerged. As a scientist, he knew that often the simplest answer was the right answer, and he figured that the answer must be right under his nose.

Aditi tapped him on the chest.

"Yes, Aditi?" he asked.

"Can I read you this book?" she asked.

He looked down and saw that she was holding the book You and I Count to 20. It had become a minor obsession ever since she figured out he had written it. He nodded his head.

She opened the book up and began to read. "Dedication: To Mary Cooper, the…"

Mary leaned over to Sheldon's ear. "She just loves that book to death." She sighed. "I can't believe they've gotten so big. Where did the years go?"

Sheldon didn't respond. It wasn't something he thought about a lot, but sometimes he did marvel at the passage of time. Aditi tapped his chest again.

"You aren't listening," she complained.

"I am," Sheldon said. "Continue reading."

Aditi did so.

Mary furrowed her brow. "So how much are you getting for that book?" she asked.

Sheldon turned at his mother, mildly surprised by her inquiry. "Nothing."

Mary looked at him, alarmed. "Well why not?"

Sheldon shrugged. "Moonie said that it was for a fundraiser and that I should expect little compensation. I assumed it was a euphemism for nothing and carried on living my life."

Mary was appalled. "He's been selling that thing every year at the Texas State Fair and, believe you me, he has been making a pretty penny off of them books."

Sheldon perked up at the news. "Naturally," he said, unsurprised. "The book is a virtual treasure trove of both juvenile education and entertainment."

"It's also supposed to be making you money. I'm calling Moonie right now," Mary said, scrolling through her address book. She squinted at the small screen, holding the phone at least a foot from her face. "Now I know I put him in here under… I think it was 'M' for Moonie or… hold on, I think I did 'P' for publishing… nope, wasn't that. His last name is 'Fairfield' if I'm not mistaken."

"Allow me, Mom," Sheldon said, taking the phone from her hand and scrolling through hundreds of contacts with names like "Stumpy" and "Bake sale lady." He found it under "L" for "Lorna's son."

"That's it," Mary said. "You question my system but it hasn't failed me yet."

Sheldon rolled his eyes and called him. To his surprise, Moonie answered.

"Hello, Moonie. This is your cousin Sheldon."

"Hey, Sheldon! Long time no hear," he said jovially. Sheldon did not reply in kind.

"That is the very matter which concerns me," he said, perturbed. "My mother informs me that despite the fact that you have been enjoying the lucrative fruitage from the sale of my children's book, I've yet to see a single penny of profit."

"That's surprising," Moonie said. "I've been sending the checks."

Sheldon furrowed his brow in disbelief. "Where?"

"Gimme a sec," Moonie said. Several moments passed, and when he returned, he spoke as if he were reading from a piece of paper. "It says here '73 Mulberry Street—'"

"I haven't lived in Washington for five years!" Sheldon exclaimed.

"Then that could be the source of the problem," Moonie said with another chuckle. "I was wondering why those checks weren't clearing. I just figured you didn't need the money."

Sheldon sighed.

"What's your current address?" Moonie asked.

Mary, who had been leaning into the receiver, spoke up. "Tell him to wire it to you," she said. "You've been waiting long enough."

"My mother suggests that you wire Amy and me the money. Perhaps to the Western Union here in Pasadena on Adelman Street."

"Can do," Moonie said. "I'll send it within the hour. Take care, Sheldon."

Sheldon nodded, rather pleased. "Oh," he said suddenly, before hanging up. "Just how much am I owed?"

"All together?" Moonie took a second to answer. "It should be $19,862.57."

Sheldon stood up, gob smacked. Aditi nearly fell out of his lap, but he caught her, lowering her to the floor. "TWENTY-THOUSAND DOLLARS!" he said. Everyone turned around at the outburst.

"Yeah," Moonie said, nonchalantly. "I told you it wouldn't be much."

Sheldon tried to regain composure. "Of course, of course," he said. "A minimal token for my efforts." He hung up, then looked around, searching for Amy, but couldn't find her. "Where is Amy?" he whispered aloud.

"She left," Bernadette answered.

"She left?"

"Yeah, while you were on the phone, she told me to tell you that an emergency happened at the apartment. The maintenance man called and said there was a gas leak or something."

Sheldon didn't like that news. He took out his phone to call Amy when it rang in his hand. When he answered, it was Dr. Seibert.

"Dr. Cooper," he said, without a greeting, "The Feds trailed Lise-Marie all the way to Monterey. Turns out she'd been hiding out at an old boyfriend's house the whole time."

"That's good," Sheldon said. "Have they made an arrest?"

"No. That's why I'm calling." Seibert said. He sighed deeply. "She stole a car from an elderly couple at an airport this morning and the police found it dumped on the side of the road a block away from Pasadena Central Mall."

Sheldon's breath caught. "That means..."

Seibert nodded. "Yep. She's back."

Amy walked up the stairs to the apartment hurriedly. She'd never forgive herself if she missed the birth of Penny's baby. Besides, she had some very helpful tips she thought Penny and Leonard would appreciate when it came to breastfeeding and areola massage. She planned to assist Joe, the maintenance man, with whatever he needed and then be on her way.

She stuck her key in the door, and went in. She was surprised to find the lights out; Joe had said he would meet her here. She scratched absently at the side of her face, and then turned on the light. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest when she saw Lise-Marie standing there.

"What are you doing in our apartment?" she asked, breathless with shock.

Lise-Marie's face was stern and her jaw set. "Amy," she said, with gristle in her voice, "we need to talk."

ENDNOTE: This chapter made a lot of references to The Gamete Indeterminacy, which I started writing a year ago (! ! !). For my readers who have been here for the whole journey, I can't say thank you enough. Love you, Lio!