Luke was speeding after Meghan in the best way that he could - which was not very well. Twice, he'd almost run into a wall, and he was tripping about every twenty steps. Soon enough, he was blinded by camera flashes as he burst outside. Upon his running out through the front iron gates, a reporter came at his right side - he almost seemed to have been expecting him. At this, Luke abruptly turned left.

Through his warped, foggy vision, Luke saw nothing of the girl he pursued. He saw nothing else to do, however, but to press on and keep running.

"Meghan!" he called out about every thirty seconds. No answer. Despite his drastically out-of-sorts condition, Luke was beginning to feel the full intensity of what had just happened - and all of the guilt that came with it. With every second that passed, he became more frantic.

What have I done?!

He was not in love with Clarissa, and never in his right mind would he have kissed her. But that kiss had happened, and regardless of the state his mind had been in, it had looked the same. How would he ever, ever possibly justify this? How could he ever explain? He couldn't even explain it to himself.

Luke hadn't had any alcohol - there hadn't been any there, despite the fact that many of the students were eighteen; the legal drinking age. He hadn't hit his head, and he didn't come to the ball sick. Was it food poisoning, from the dinner they'd had? In that case, wouldn't it be happening to Meghan, as well? She'd eaten the same thing.

Could this kind of thing even be caused by food poisoning? Luke didn't know. All he knew was that there was something seriously wrong with him, and he had no way of ever proving that to Meghan. If he ever found her.

He'd been running a while now, debating these horrific things, and had still caught no sight of Meghan. He was projecting his voice less and less with each call of her name, and his calls were now coming less often. Luke heard various shouts and yells from all different directions, coming from the people he kept almost running into. He was running out of breath, and losing what little focus he had.

There wasn't a hint in his mind, however, of the true spectacle he was making out of himself, running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Then again, even if he did know what he looked like, he still wouldn't have cared. All he cared about was Meghan.

This, however, didn't stop a random store owner from dashing out of a nearby store and into the streets, grabbing one of Luke's arms and dragging him into the store. This was done in an effort to get him away from the screaming people, and any possible paparazzi clowns that could be lurking nearby. Luke resisted this at first, yelling and trying to yank his arm back. But he stumbled, and was thrown into a dizzy frenzy of colors that swirled before his eyes. With this, he gave up.

The store owner still had a grip on him, and pulled him toward the building and into the store without a further moment's delay. From there, he was led into a back room, where someone was setting up a cot at light speed. Luke was brought over to it, and told to lie down. Seeing no point in protesting and quickly losing consciousness besides, he did as he was told and collapsed onto the cot. Within a minute, he'd fallen into a deep sleep, as horrible, painful noises thrashed around in his mind.

He didn't know where he was, or even if he would wake up, for he lacked enough conscious thought to mull over either one of these things. But the thought of waking up without Meghan made him want to sleep forever.

Before, Meghan had run without any particular destination even touching the edge of her mind. Now, however, she'd thought of a place to aim for.

It wouldn't be the Winthrops' - Luke might find her there. It couldn't be Dashwood Manor - no one was there, and she couldn't bear to face them if they were. But there was one place, Meghan thought, she might be able to find some solace.

The park, behind Faye's house. Which was where she was now.

Meghan fast-walked down the cement pathway, still crying wet tears. She couldn't believe it - it had happened again. Another Reynolds had been heartbroken.

She came to a bench toward the middle of the park, and fell back into the seat, pressing her face into her hands. She continued to heave spasmatic, uneven breaths as she sobbed.

It was now that everything she'd been through in the past two months hit her with an iron fist. Her many run-ins with Clarissa. Her fewer but worse run-ins with Alistair. The media frenzies. The near-expulsions. The closing of the restaurant. Near humiliation of her cousin and everyone else, courtesy of Faye. And to top it all off, the fact that she STILL hadn't told Daphne's father the truth.

Meghan had no idea what was going on at that ball right now. No doubt, Clarissa was happy. She was willing to bet that Alistair was, too. But she had not the faintest clue what anyone else was feeling.

If Meghan had been back at the ball right then, as some sort of unseen invisible being, she would have known exactly how they felt. She would've seen Ian storm away in anger for the traitor he'd discovered his friend to be. She would've seen Faye's friends, shaking their heads in disbelief and frustration at the sight of yet another win by Clarissa, this one monumental. She would've seen Clarissa herself, half-triumphant and half-confused, saunter off to the powder room, followed by her infamous groupies. She would've seen Jocelyn, utterly bewildered to the point of no return, stare blankly in shock as she sat, on the verge of tears. And she would've seen Jocelyn's flabbergasted son, seated nearby with his face in his hands and more empathy for Meghan than anyone else in the room.

But Meghan knew of none of these things. All she felt was the pain that overtook her. How would she ever, ever trust anyone outside of her family ever again? Her trust had been mutilated.

She gently rubbed her finger over a tear that had fallen on her dress, wiping it away. Again, Meghan was convinced - she'd never belonged in that dress. Maybe it would disappear at midnight.

After many, many descriptions of Meghan's thoughts, by Meghan herself and by me, the omnipresent narrator, it may seem only obvious to at this particular point in the story to once again further outline her every grievous thought in excruciating detail. However, such a description shall this time be suspended beyond this point, due to special circumstances that include: dramatically elevated levels of emotion that seem beyond words, feelings that can be better described by further action rather than further thought, a need to proceed to other events, and cough, this writer's inadequacy to do Meghan's feelings justice, cough.

Only this will be said: now, she had the whole picture. The whole picture of what her aunt felt. And she understood, she truly did.

On that same dark night, at that very same time, a young girl with loose, messy braids wandered into the park, her hands crammed in her pockets. Like Meghan, she hoped to find peace, and something to occupy her shadowy thoughts.

Faye, of course, hadn't attended the ball. She'd felt that she lacked the courage, and didn't have an interest in going. She'd wanted it once, believe it or not - she'd wanted the mingling with her friends, the sparkly dresses, the handsome Morris boys. But that had been a long time ago. Over a month. Faye was now a changed woman.

Oh sure, her mother had protested. Even her father, to a point. They told her not to let the demise of the restaurant ruin a lovely night of much-deserved dancing and celebrating in the midst of her very last year at Jasperstone Academy. But they didn't know what had truly caused the closing of the Spoon, and they didn't know about what she'd done to Meghan, what a horrible person she was.

Honestly, it had truly shocked Faye to first learn Meghan's secret. That this cousin of hers was the daughter of...Henry Dashwood?! Impossible! The two people concerned lived thousands of miles apart! But there had been a birth certificate, legal documentation. Somehow, the circumstances were true.

Faye wasn't exactly sure why it had affected her so much. Meghan was a wonderful person, and Faye had loved having her around, right from the very start. But somehow, what she'd read had just wracked her entire body and shook her mind. She'd discovered, right after reading that document, just why Meghan had sought to remain under Clarissa's control.

Maybe she'd been angered, at the idea that Meghan could bring Clarissa down in an instant, but never bothered. That she'd let the taunting go on and on, with Faye often at the wrong end of it.

Or maybe it had just been the complete and utter surprise. It was a feeling Faye didn't experience too often. Or hadn't experienced, until Meghan came around.

Either way, that white envelope had started Faye's downward spiral, and she'd only gone further down from there. The suspension, then the restaurant, then Clarissa's admittance to being behind it, accented by the constant taunting and Meghan's frequent romps with Mr. Brenshire, all contributed to the killing of Faye's spirit. Though in truth, her spiteful friends really hadn't helped, either. They were more focused on being against people than they were on trying to comfort those who were sad.

Thus, Faye was still very, very sad. Not to mention possessing a guilty conscience. And right now, as she shuffled along in the dark, all she could wish was to have her life back. All seemed dreary now. It seemed most everyone in the world was as miserable as she was, for some reason or another.

A bit of a cold breeze took up some loose wisps of Faye's hair as she glanced up at her surroundings. And to her surprise, she saw the very person she'd been thinking about, sitting on a bench, crying in her beautiful dress. Her back was turned.

Faye stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't quite sure what to do. The urge to go and comfort the girl arose, but was held back by some persistent twinge that told Faye, no, stay where you are.

So, she stayed. Staring, at the girl who sobbed some distance away. And some time passed, seeming longer to Faye than it did to the rest of the world. Some seconds, a minute maybe.

Then, he came.

From another direction, a figure came trouncing. Immediately, Faye darted behind a tree and some brush - the way the man moved had set off an impulse. His steps were strong and determined. His face was cold and fierce.

Faye peeked ever-so-slightly, watching the newcomer as he acted. She saw that he was headed straight for Meghan. A closer look. Her eyes went narrow and squinted. She saw that the man was Alistair Payne.

The man's actions were swift. He'd soon grabbed Meghan's arm, growling at her as he did so. Faye saw the girl's head snap up in alarm, her face ridden with tears. A nearby lamp shone on her cream colored dress as it swished about in Meghan's mad attempt to wrench her arm free.

"Don't bother, girl! For I see it now. You are Elizabeth's niece, aren't you?!" Alistair shouted maniacally to high heaven.

Shock and anger overcame the struggling one, but she said nothing, only moaning and pulling harder away from him. But his grasp was like stone. And it only grew tighter.

"Let me go!"

"You're coming with me. I've got a plane waiting! Aren't you happy?! You're going home!"

The man grabbed Meghan's other shoulder, gaining greater control as she continued to struggle. He took a step, pulling her in the same direction. Meghan screamed.

"S-settle down now. Time to make use of Lord Dashwood's private jet. Cheer up my dear. You're going fast, and in style. You should feel - honored..."

Meghan shrieked louder. This caused Alistair to slap a hand over her mouth, to muffle her voice. But Faye had already heard.

"Insolent child!" Alistair shouted at Meghan. "I will not have him knowing of that illegitimate thing your aunt has spawned!"

Slowly, Alistair worked to drag Meghan along, taking huge, firm steps. He growled other words in Meghan's ear that Faye couldn't make out, and these words seemed to make his hostage more cooperative. He was then able to lead her off, hand still plastered over her mouth, as if she were a hardened criminal who'd just been arrested.

And then, only Faye was left. To decide what next should happen.

She decided. Faye looked around at the trees, at the glowing lamps, at the bench from which someone had just been kidnapped. She looked down at the ground, rubbing her forehead. She took a deep breath.

And then, she acted.

Hope those were interesting chapters...and don't fret. I'm NOT going to drag things out again like you may think. The story does eventually end, though not for awhile. There's plenty left, but things are definitely shifting now. Secrets will be revealed. As for Meg and Luke...well, you'll just have to see where I take them. Hope you're not too sad. Who knows? Maybe you're all shipping for Meghan/Anthony or Meghan/John or dare I say it? Meghan/Armistead?!

Only if you ARE shipping for those couples...well, don't get your hopes up. :P And don't even THINK about Meghan/Ian. NEVER!! BLASPHEMY!!

Next two soon - I MEAN IT, some is already written - and I promise some comedic relief. I need some myself.

-rf-