Fifty-five minutes from Chris' apartment to the station at peak time; twenty-nine minutes more until the train arrived and, so far, four and a half hours on a train southwards made almost five hours of journey, alone with Chris and her own thoughts, and Jill hadn't understood yet how effortlessly Claire had talked her into escaping the city with Chris, fleeing from Piers Nivans or some other fool in the B.S.A.A..

You know what? Forget the car. Leave it back home, too. You might be spotted somewhere, you never know. Take the train instead, but be careful when you enter the station.

Claire had messed up their nice, calm Friday with a massive trip to the end of the world, and Jill hadn't had the chance, guts or will to protest, finding herself following the younger woman's orders like a helpless little girl who feared the outer world, needing the lead of someone stronger than her to feel safe, when she had never needed anything nor anyone to make decisions for her. And there was, certainly, no one as strong as she was.

You're going to a place called Cedar Grove. Chris knows it well.

And now she had, probably, the complete B.S.A.A. after her, following her like she was some sort of criminal on the run, when all she wanted—all what Claire wanted—was a little time off for Chris. Jill's look wandered to the man in front of her, wondering what exactly he knew about that random place that sounded like it shared its name, surrounding and atmosphere with a hundred dozens of other small towns in the US. He sat across from her in the seat, with earbuds in his ears and moving his head to the music he was obviously listening to and the sight of it blew away all her annoyance, as her old partner looked so carefree and undisturbed that the blonde found herself smiling at the picture. He was moving his toned neck to the sound of whatever was playing in his ears and Jill wondered what kind of music was keeping him so captivated. When Chris turned his gaze from the window to his companion, he began to smile widely and pulled the earbuds out.

"Hey, are you better?" He asked innocently when his hands dropped to his thighs. "You seemed angry before."

Jill smiled softly and shook her head, shrugging the subject off.

"It's nothing," she replied with a wink. "What are you listening to?"

He smirked slyly and leaned over to push one of the buds into her left ear, and the blonde burst into loud laughter instantly when the hard rock music she'd expected to come through the speaker actually turned into the most mainstream option to be considered.

Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah

Roma-roma-ma

Gaga, ooh la-la

Want your bad romance

Chris pouted so deliciously when he pulled the earbud back to him that it pushed Jill to laugh even louder, making it hard for the people around them to avoid staring at the strong man and the beautiful blonde by his side, who looked like a couple and acted like old friends—when they knew practically nothing about each other anymore. When Jill caught her breath again she wiped off a tear of joy and shrugged apologetically at Chris.

"Don't tell Claire," he said, crossing his big arms in front of his chest. The image reminded her of a security guard in front of a nightclub or at the access to a Lady Gaga concert. She could imagine that Claire wouldn't approve her bigger brother's change of taste in music. After all, Chris had been the one who had efficiently introduced her to the world of hand-made eighties rock music.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered breathlessly and leaned over the table between them. "I won't tell her, but I need to know how you ended up discovering Lady Gaga."

Chris laughed, with a shrug running through his shoulders.

"They play her songs at the gym," he said and Jill began to understand where he'd picked up that special taste of his. "It's energetic and I liked it, so I googled the lyrics and the artist behind them."

Jill deadpanned for a second when she heard that kind of vocabulary slip out of his mouth.

"You did what?" she asked quietly, the tremendous fear of the truth not lying in what he had done, but in what he might have found out while doing it.

"I googled it," he said with raised eyebrows. "That's what you call it when you search something on the Internet, isn't it? I looked it up on your computer when you were out for a run the other day."

Jill exhaled, carefully searching for the right words to say to discover what else he had been googling, but Chris was faster, quickly resuming his tale with a hint of pride in his words.

"Did you know that she chose her name from the Queen song Radio Gaga? I mean, that must be destiny. And she's the only decent 2000's artist I have discovered anyway. I got so absorbed by her that I even forgot to search our old colleagues on Facebook. I just couldn't find out if she used to be a dude."

He laughed and nearly killed her with anxiety. Jill was, in the meantime, hanging helplessly in her seat, as she nervously listened to Chris' words. Why had she not paid more attention to what her partner had been doing, running the needless risk of flushing Claire's plan to keep him away from the present time down the toilet? She would have to start using one of those hyper-secure passwords she used at work for her personal computer too.

"So you didn't get to search for them?" she eventually asked with care, at which Chris shrugged.

"As I said. Gaga happened. Didn't give me time to play the…" He bent over and whispered, "Paparazzi."

She held her breath in relief for a second before she burst into laughter anew.

"That's not funny," she howled as she leaned back in the seat, with the carefree spirit of the lucky. She would have to keep a better eye on Chris.

Chris mirrored her laughter and turned back to the window and the snowy landscape that was slowly swallowed by the dimness of the dusk.

"So, what can you tell me about Cedar Grove?" Jill asked curiously, propping her chin up, preparing for Chris' story. The brunet watched the shadows of the treetops they were passing by as a warm expression blossomed on his face.

"It's the place where we used to spend our summer holidays when we were kids."

He narrated the story with a hint of nostalgia that made Jill's heart pound harder, as she became aware that, after all the years she'd been his partner, she was finally about to know more about the most personal side of Chris Redfield. He had never spoken much about his parents, keeping the comments about his family short and shallow when it wasn't just Claire he was speaking of. When it came to Claire, he could talk for hours and hours, showing how proud he was of his little sister and how she had become a wonderful young lady thanks to his initial efforts. It was true, though, that this enthusiasm of his had vanished once their relationship had turned colder during the years Jill had been away, and the blonde had never really found out why exactly the siblings had given up on that close bond they'd had. She tilted her head to the side and watched him as he kept speaking.

"We have a cabin there. It's a great place to spend the holidays, surrounded by nature. Claire and I had a handful of friends among the villagers." With an expression of serenity, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I wonder if she told Mrs. Wilson that we're coming."


Yes, Claire had informed Mrs. Wilson about their arrival, and the old lady was already waiting for them with all the lights turned on and the fireplace lit when they walked up the path to the cabin at eight in the evening. When Chris pushed open the fence to the front yard, the voluminous older woman came storming out into the night with her arms widely spread.

"Chris!" She said when they hugged tightly, laughing happily at their reunion.

"Look at you, son," the woman shouted, too loudly to believe that her hearing was still intact.

"You haven't changed the slightest," she said and palpated his strong biceps before frowning slightly. "Okay, maybe you have gotten a bit bigger since I last saw you." She showed her upper row of porcelain teeth. "But it looks good on you. And so does age."

Chris laughed warmly, embracing the lady over and over again.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilson, you can't believe how good it feels to see another known face."

The woman nodded, letting her lips turn into a depressed smile.

"I know, kid, Claire mentioned you had amnesia. Well don't worry, I kept the cabin just the way you left it in 2005, so you will surely recognize some things inside." Leaving Chris frowning in confusion, Mrs. Wilson turned to Jill, who had been standing astonishedly next to them during their whole conversation and was now greeted with a wide smirk.

"And you must be Jill," she heard the woman say and nodded eagerly, her mouth mirroring the old lady's smile. "I've heard so many stories. Chris never stopped talking about you, of course, but he never mentioned just how beautiful you really are."

She squeezed Jill's cheek in a motherly manner and left the blonde blushing embarrassedly at her comments.

"One question, Mrs. Wilson," Chris said as he rubbed his chin. "You said you left everything like it was in 2005?"

The old lady gave him a shaky nod as she laughed.

"When you refurbished it, son," she said, making Chris yelp in surprise.

"We had it refurbished?"

And Mrs. Wilson snickered.


Chris stood in the living room, with his hands on his hips and his look turned upwards, inspecting the ceiling with a hint of pride while Jill watched him from the open concept kitchen as she placed a pan onto the range.

"I can't believe I did that with my own hands," the man howled in admiration and Jill laughed along with his charmingly impressed attitude.

"You heard Mrs. Wilson, Chris," the blonde said and laughed. "You have many talents."

Chris turned around with a spark of joy on his face.

"That's a huge compliment coming from her, trust me." He laughed and walked into the kitchen. "That lady knows about everything. Gardening, cooking, painting. She used to play the guitar when she was younger and she has five children." He shrugged warmly. "And I've never seen her in a bad mood."

Jill took a sip from her wine glass before grabbing a couple of onions and carrots.

"I can see that. She's such a lovely person," the blonde whispered. "It was very nice of her to stock the fridge for us. I don't know if we'd have found a place to do the groceries that late."

Chris, whistling into his beer bottle, shook his head with a sly grin plastered on his face. After a second he began to frown.

"Mrs. Wilson said I stopped coming after the refurbishment." He huffed out a laugh and grabbed a knife to help Jill with dinner. "Why would I refurbish a cabin and then not come back to enjoy it? I must have been a really weird guy before hitting my head."

Jill sucked in a sharp breath when a thought dawned on her and she began to wonder if Chris' lack of interest in the cabin had something to do with the tragic accident she'd suffered in 2006. Her eyes jumped to her partner, who had proceeded to chop bell peppers for their meal.

"Oh, well, you know," she explained, trying not to sound too startled. "You were very busy."

Chris accepted her explanation, whistling a melody that sounded suspiciously like another Lady Gaga song while Jill chuckled uneasily, turning back to the onions until Chris put his knife away.

"Is Claire not coming?"

The blonde lifted her head and turned to face him.

"That's a good question." She blinked around thoughtfully. "Is there a phone here?"


Her damn forgetfulness.

If anyone had caught her with her hands in her current doing, sitting on the floor in front of Jill's apartment door, cross-legged and with a cigarette hanging loosely between her lips, they would probably have called the police. The fact that she was using a set of lockpicks to open said door had probably something to do with it.

"Come on," she pleaded before taking a drag and blowing out the smoke without inhaling it as her right hand was angling the tool to the right to apply pressure to the lock.

She had grabbed all the needed stuff from Chris' place; phones, some more clothes and the big suitcase, which she'd use for Jill's belongings, too; but the keys to the blonde's apartment had been forgotten on the bedside table where she'd instructed her friend to leave them in the morning. Unwilling to take the hour-long ride back to Chris' place to get the keys, she'd decided to try that nice set of lockpicks Jill owned, but she had lost practice over time and it was harder than she remembered.

"Yes!"

Just when another pin was about to click, her phone rang in her pocket and startled her into letting go of the tools.

"Fuck!" She hissed and took a real, deep drag of her smoke before answering the call with a hiss.

"Mrs. Wilson? Oh, hey, Jill!"

Hastily nestling her phone between shoulder and ear, Claire went back to engaging her hands in the opening of the door.

"Yes, of course I am coming. Tomorrow. I am just… arriving at your apartment. No, I'm not breaking into it."

After another long drag, she tossed the cigarette into the can of beer that served as makeshift ashtray for her and laughed.

"Don't worry, Jill. I'll grab whatever you need. Yes, fine. Give me a minute and I can jot down everything."

When the lock eventually turned, Claire let out a deep sigh of relief, rolling to her knees as she pushed the door open. The phone, with Jill on the line, was still pressed to her ear.

"What? Oh, come on. You can be grateful I didn't just kick the door in, okay? Because I could have done that if I'd wanted to."

The door behind her swung closed and the redhead began to gather all the items Jill was asking for. Toothbrush, clothes, underwear and some cash were the things she requested for the time of unknown duration she and Chris would be spending in Cedar Grove. In the kitchen cabinet where the blonde had told her she'd find a package of Chris' favorite soy sauce, she also found a bottle of original tequila from Mexico—almost full. Claire blew out an impressed breath as she inspected the label.

"Not bad," she whispered to herself as she put the bottle back where it belonged. Jill didn't seem like the typical woman who got drunk with tequila, and all kinds of amusing theories about her finding began to build up in her head, like the scenario where Chris and Jill emptied the bottle and landed in bed together afterwards.

That was, currently, one of her favorite fantasies, given the lack of emotion and thrill her own sad existence brought along when it came to feelings. Admittedly, the two ex-partners had a history of untaken chances as long and full of grief as life itself, but Claire had always known about the immense crush her brother had on his beautiful partner, and she had naively believed that their resistance against a serious relationship had been Jill's doing. In the past weeks, though, the way they had interacted seemed to indicate that the cute blonde was as crazy for her brother as he was for her, so there had to be another reason for their relationship not to blossom.

If the cabin didn't make them hook up, she didn't know what would. She had always pushed Chris to invite his partner to Cedar Grove and spend some quality time with her alone, so the lovely place in the mountains would cast the spell of love on them and grant her many stubborn nephews and nieces, but Chris would always find an excuse not to ask her over. Nobody could know that, when he'd finish refurbishing the damn cabin in 2005, it would actually be too late for them to experience a holiday together, as they got a lead on Spencer in June 2006 and spent their whole summer in Europe, tracking the old man down to his Estate somewhere close to the Austrian-Hungrian border. That summer Jill had lost her life and Chris, the last spark of joy that had remained inside of him.

When Claire had just closed the zipper on the suitcase, she perceived a persistent knock on the door and jumped at the sound. It was too late in the evening for any normal human being to pay Jill a visit at her place, which only meant that it couldn't be a normal human being that was standing in front of her door and hitting their knuckles against the leaf as if they were chased by monsters. Claire frowned at the thought. She knew—she was entirely certain—that the annoying knocking came from an equally annoying person, but experience had shown her too often that tragedies seemed to happen when you least expected it, and so, she walked to the front door to see if someone might actually need her assistance. Before opening, she heard a familiar voice coming from the outside.

"Open the goddamn door, Redfield, I know you're in there."

Claire rolled her eyes in exasperation. One thing she had to admit; Piers Nivans' perseverance was admirable, and she started to wonder if it was one of those traits that made him so excellent in his job. Creaking her neck to prepare for the confrontation, she put her hand onto the knob and opened slowly—at least, that was her intention. Claire felt the door fly open as soon as she'd turned the lock and had to avoid being hit in the face by the swinging leaf as Piers Nivans and his whole one-hundred and fifty pounds plus whatever those heavy boots of his weighed stomped into the apartment, driven by wrath.

"Where the fuck are they?" he hissed at her as he eventually turned to face her, with her widely open eyes and that lovely, innocent pout on her face.

"Who?" She asked and shrugged her shoulders as she looked around. "I'm alone here."

The young man grunted.

"I see that," he replied with a sarcastic glance plastered on his face and Claire snickered amusedly. Admittedly, that angry face looked good on him. "Where did they go, Claire?"

Her eyebrow rose into a mischievously victorious expression as she huffed.

"Have you combed the whole city already?" She asked and saw more anger pop onto the young soldier's face.

He slammed his hand onto the dining table in an attempt to startle her. She wouldn't admit it easily, but she did flinch a bit at the sudden noise.

"Jill Valentine's car is parked in the parking garage of Chris' block," he said and made Claire's eyes twinkle in anger. "I assume they were at his place, as their stuff was there this morning, left behind as though they feared that someone would follow them."

She couldn't hold back her surprised gasp when he unveiled having his own access to Chris' place.

"I know you sent them to the station," he growled. "Where did they go?"

Claire cleared her throat, trying not to give away how much the young man's efforts impressed her.

"I told you they went to Raccoon City," she said and shrugged her shoulders, before Piers came a step closer and made her take a deep breath.

"By train? Without their phones and paying in cash?"

He shook his head. At Claire's lack of reaction to his truthful accusations, he took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

"You bitter old woman," he said in an offending, calm tone and Claire felt her teeth gnash together. "Do you even know what you are doing here? Do you understand what it means to leave the B.S.A.A. without the lead of their founding members and how exposed we currently are, with Alpha team dead and their Captain gone?" The volume increased with every word of his and Claire felt her blood boil in her veins. "You might not be aware of it but there are B.O.W.s to eradicate before Terra Save can come and put their bandaids on the wounds of the survivors."

That was enough, she thought and slammed the door shut, walking threateningly towards the soldier in front of her until she was face to face with him. Boring her finger into his chest, she shouted, "band aids? You can't be serious! I have fought bioterror as actively as you have and if I chose the path of peace and salvation it was because I knew that fighting the monsters doesn't help those who have already been victims."

And because her brother hadn't let her join the B.S.A.A., but that was a different story.

"I killed my first zombie with a ridiculously tiny pistol instead of those huge machine guns you get nowadays and I lost an important part of my youth to this shit. So never, ever, tell me again I don't know what you are facing, Lieutenant Nivans!"

Her voice had gotten as loud and angry as his had been before and Claire took a deep breath before her next sentence.

"And, yes, maybe I am bitter," she hissed with a hint of offence in her words. "But so was Chris. I mean old Chris, before he hit his head. He has spent; no, sacrificed; fifteen years of his life for the cause and he really deserves a break from all this!"

Piers' eyes narrowed as he heard her words and the soldier hissed in annoyance.

"You can't just decide that for him!"

And she laughed.

"Oh really?" She huffed out a laugh. "Well, I think I can. You missed your chance to save him, now it's my turn."

The words bubbled out before she could consider what she was saying, and Claire was punished with the sight of the healthy color draining from Piers' face as it turned into a grey mask of regret. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, his hand holding onto the table to allow him a smooth landing on the chair he was dropping into. The redhead rubbed her fingertips together in a shy motion. Her impulsiveness had, once more, made her lose control, letting those emotions she herself had admitted to be slightly exaggerated hurt other people—good people.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and rubbed her neck as she bit her lip. "That wasn't fair."

"No," the man mumbled as he turned his face back to her and sighed. "You're right. That's exactly what happened." Scratching his forehead with his index finger, he grunted. "I couldn't help him. I couldn't save anyone."

With an irritated roll of her eyes, she wondered when she had become that evil, pointing out that poor kid's failures when she herself had been the one to blame for others' misery more than once. How long had it taken her to get over the death of Steve Burnside, whom she had failed to save in 1998? Claire took a seat on the chair next to Piers and placed her hand onto his in a comforting touch, seeing how much the man regretted not having been faster or stronger to keep this tragedy from happening.

"Listen, Piers," she whispered as the young man turned his head to look at her. "You can't blame yourself for the bad things that happen out there. This is not your fault. Neither the death of your teammates nor Chris' amnesia. You survived. You're still standing and you're the one who lives to avenge them all."

Piers sighed once more at Claire's attempts to comfort him.

"That's the problem," he said with a grunt and let his eyes fall shut. "I'm the last one."

The statement caught Claire off guard and she began to frown at the young man.

"What do you mean?"

She saw how his jaw clenched and his tongue rolled over his teeth. Piers blew out a breath of effort, as if the truth he was about to say weighed so much that he feared he'd fly off once it was out.

"As long as Chris is away, I'm the one in charge," he eventually muttered and swallowed, with his anxious pupils inspecting the redhead's reaction. "And I'm not ready for it, Claire. I need your brother to come back."

Claire sucked in a breath, not believing his words, nor the fact that other people but her had those destructive thoughts, too. Her thumb began to move, caringly flicking over the back of the young soldier's hand.

"Piers, what are you talking about? Of course you are ready," she said with an encouraging expression on her face. "You have worked with Chris for… what? Two years?"

The man frowned hesitantly.

"Two and a half."

Claire nodded.

"And you know how he works, what he would do in every situation, and you have enough sense of right or wrong to know when to follow his methods or go another way," she exclaimed. "That's why he made you his second in command. He trusts you."

Piers snickered slightly.

"Maybe I was just the least pitiful option among the Alpha team soldiers," he suggested and made them both laugh with his comment.

Claire sighed warmly as she searched for the right words to give him; words that would give him hope and solace, too. She didn't want him to see her as an enemy, when they were fighting for the same cause and both looked up to the same man.

"I know this is a difficult situation, but you are perfectly prepared for this position, Piers," she said with a smile and he blew out a breath.

"Maybe."

She watched him closely. Such a young man shouldn't carry the weight of bioterror on his shoulders, she thought, thinking of Chris and his inexhaustible will to end the reign of Umbrella. Piers had certainly learned a lot from Chris, as every word of his, every roll of his eyes and every turn of his head was identical to her brother's moves. It gave her the certainty that the young man was just as a great leader as Chris, but the responsibilities brought along some dangers.

"You know?" She said with a determined squeeze to his hand. "During Chris' absence, you might be in charge of Alpha Team., but outside the B.S.A.A., I'm the one who gives orders."

Piers looked at her with curious skepticism as she raised her hand to her head and clicked her fingers next to her temple.

"And I say that you should disconnect." She laughed depressedly. "I know that our job is constantly on our mind, but if you don't find a balance between the B.S.A.A. and your personal life, you will end up like Chris." The frown on her face became obvious. "Old Chris."

The concerned tone in her voice was almost heartwarming, he thought, and his stomach twitched painfully when the nights he'd used to spend with the rest of the Alpha Team soldiers came back to his memory. They had been a family and, so far, he hadn't even had the chance to mourn their deaths properly.

"And how do you do that?" He asked and mimicked Claire's finger clicking gesture from before. "How do you disconnect from all those images that are haunting you?"

Yes, she knew what he was talking about. It wasn't just the images; it was the smell of death and blood, the sound of the undead's sloppy footsteps when they dragged along a dark corridor, that hammering of your own heart in your chest and the fear that they would hear it, too. Therapy could help you cope and talking about it always seemed to ease the pain of the memory, but it never erased those images.

"Besides hitting your head, you mean?" she asked as she coolly pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "To be honest, I only know one way."

With those words, she got up and walked into the kitchen.


When Jill returned from Mrs. Wilson's house, where she'd made the call to Claire, the cabin was filled with the most delicious smell of spiced vegetables and red wine and classical music was playing in the background. Jill quickly locked the door behind her and walked into the kitchen, where she found Chris carefully pouring the bolognese sauce onto a nest of spaghetti, so engrossed in his doing that he didn't notice her presence until she cleared her throat right next to him. When he turned to her, a bright smile blossomed on his lips.

"Hey," he breathed. "Did you speak to Claire? Any troubles finding Mrs. Wilson's house?"

"Everything fine." Jill smirked at her partner before her view drifted to the mess he had left in the kitchen, at which Chris turned around and laughed.

"I'll clean this up later," he said with a shrug and grabbed the two plates of spaghetti, gesturing for Jill to leave the kitchen and follow him into the dining area, where a beautifully set table was awaiting them.

"Wow," the blonde exhaled with a hint of admiration when she spotted the elegant cutlery and wine glasses, the cotton napkins which had been folded perfectly into the shape of a fan, and the dim shine of the candle-light. "What are we celebrating?"

Chris placed the plates onto the table and offered Jill a seat before he dropped into the other chair himself.

"Well, we are celebrating that we are here together," he said as he poured them some wine and pointed at his plate. "Our mom's secret spaghetti recipe. Enjoy!"

The blonde smirked shyly and took up the fork to sling the pasta around it with skilled turns. It looked and smelled really good.

"Wow," she praised when she had tasted the sauce. "This is fantastic!"

Chris snickered with a nod as he chewed.

"So," he mumbled with a grin when he'd swallowed. "Is this enough to convince you to go on a date with me?"

The fork dropped to her plate with a loud clunk and Jill turned her head up to face him.

"Isn't this something like a date?" she asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. "Candles, spaghetti. What would be different?"

Chris snickered.

"The previous intention, maybe? It's not a date if we didn't know it was a date," he said with a big grin plastered on his face as he soun the fork and took up more spaghetti. "I mean, even if we end up having a lot of passionate sex tonight."

She was lucky she hadn't taken up the fork again as it would have crashed into the plate once more when Chris shared his theory with her. She began to laugh instead, lowering her head and placing her hand onto her forehead to hide the tears of joy that threatened to escape. Chris laughed along with her.

"Oh my god," Jill howled. "When did you become such a charmer?"

Her partner kept grinning widely at her.

"Baby, I was born this way!"


A/N: Hello everybody! How are you doing? I'm really sorry for the delay. I wanted to publish this a couple of days ago already, because I really want to give you an update every two weeks, but I got busy writing other stuff (and with real life, sorry). This chapter has a lot less Lady Gaga references than I wanted it to have, following but slightly ignoring and readjusting the advice I took from the Lady Frost and Corpasite. They are both brilliant authors, so I really expect you to check out their works right now! Go!

Thank you all so much for following this crazy little story of mine. I see that other people have pretty awesome ideas about what might happen in the future, and I encourage Corpasite to write his very own fanfic about this fanfic because I'd really like to see where he could take this.

If you know me, you might already know that I really, absolutely, awfully SUCK at tagging. This was tagged as Romance/Drama and it's turning more and more into romance/Bad Humor, and it's honestly the closest thing to a Jennifer Aniston movie I've ever written (which isn't that bad, because we have enough drama in real life). I really hope you're not disappointed. I think the drama will come soon, but it might not be as dramatic as I am picturing it right now… I really don't know.

Many thanks to all the readers and followers, those who like the story and those who review it. As usual, a short reply to those I couldn't contact through a PM.

Guest reviewer: I'm glad you find this story nice! I hope I can keep it interesting. Thanks a bunch for your review :D

Manu: Hola, no sé. Tengo la sensación de repetir lo mismo una vez tras otra cuando te contesto. Pero, total, no puedo prometer que vaya a escribir algo si no sé si puedo tener alguna idea. Si el remake me inspira para escribir JillCarlos, pues así será. Hasta entonces...

By the way, FFnet has stopped sending out email notifications of PM a veeeery long time ago, so if you're expecting a reply from me, just check your PM inbox on your account. They're there! I always reply!

Okay, now that the author's note is longer than the chapter itself, Xaori says goodbye. See you next time!