A/N: The elusive beast surfaces! I did tell y'all that I didn't have a posting schedule. . . but silver lining: pretty sure I've got 80k words written for this monster and it's actually slowly stitching itself together nicely. Anyway, thanks for your patience. I actually had knee surgery at the end of Jan so it's been a rollercoaster of a few weeks.

A little Housekeeping:

A huge thank you to those who took the time to review. I seriously have the biggest, dorkiest smile on my face when I'm reading them. Also: Whomever was the Guest who left such a long and lovely review-OMG COME BACK!

TW: REFERENCES OF DOMESTIC ABUSE. This chapter was not easy to write, and it's not meant to be the easiest read. I have one other chapter written that will be a little more explicit in this respect, and I'll add a warning to it as well.

It was getting late back at Mira's apartment, and most of the women were veering toward the drunken edge of tipsy.

"Hey Mira—" called Cana, mischievousness in her eye, "did you hear that Elfman grabbed Evergreen as his exam partner?"

"Did he really?" Mira uncorked the last bottle of wine in the kitchen and brought it back into the living room, where the rest of the group was splayed out haphazardly on the couch and floor. "Can't say I saw that one coming."

"Not sure he did, either," giggled Lucy, "I think she made the choice for him."

"Can't say it's a bad one, honestly. She's good in a fight," Erza chimed.

Talia added a little more wine to her empty glass from the new bottle. "She'll definitely keep him focused on the fight—not many people can avoid her authoritative streak." She took a sip and looked back to the group with a cheeky grin. "Ok so before I utterly pass out, what've I missed while I was out freezing my ass off?"

"Not really much set in stone when it comes to fun stuff," replied Levy, "You already know Alzack still hasn't asked Bisca out yet."

Talia rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, but what about unofficial stuff? What happened to my gossip-mongers?"

"Well we've all got bets on how long it'll take Grey to come to his senses about Juvia," laughed Cana. "She's just so precious! How could he say no to her sweet face?"

"I say six months," chimed Levy.

"A year; he's way too stubborn," Lucy rebutted.

"If he ever figures it out," said Erza, dryly.

"You're one to talk!" laughed Cana, "You finally had your hot baddie and you still didn't shag him."

Erza Scarlet turned, well, scarlet. Talia could almost see the steam come out of her ears. The mage unflappable in battle blathered something incoherent and Talia's smile grew.

"The Jellal? He actually made an appearance?"

"Bit more than an appearance. Just another time of almost dying," Lucy squawked cartoonishly.

"So where is he now?"

The room went quiet.

"A maximum-security prison at the Magic Council Headquarters," said Erza, her voice steady.

"Ah. Gotcha," Talia pursed her lips. Well, so much for that romantic route. "Cana, what about that guy from Cerberus," she made a flippant gesture with her hand, "What's his face? Erza, you sparred with him once, right?"

"Oh Bacchus!" Cana perked a bit, "Yeah, I just wish their guild hall wasn't on the other fuckin' side of Fiore. Haven't been able to set anything up. Too bad, too, he seems like lots of fun."

Lucy began to pepper her with more questions, and the rest of the group devolved into smaller conversations. Talia leaned back against the leg of the couch and felt her tipsiness turn slightly sluggish.

"Hey, Talia?" Levy's voice was soft and sweet. Talia hummed in recognition. "When you knew Gajeel at Phantom Lord, did he ever. . . um. . . seem to have a . . ."

Talia raised an eyebrow. That was one she wasn't quite expecting. "Did he have a type?" Levy nodded slightly, her cheeks flushed and she tried to keep her voice low.

"Just you know, curious . . ."

Talia's smile broadened and she thought back. "I wish I could be more helpful, but I can't really say I noticed anything. That place was just work to him, it wasn't like Fairy Tail. Those guys didn't really get into each other's lives." She watched Levy deflate a bit, and Talia nudged her lightly with her elbow.

"But who can say no to you? You're adorable," Talia tried to be encouraging, and a small smile came to Levy's face, "Might take a while, though, he can be pretty thick-headed."

A loud groan from Cana cut through most of the conversations.

"Uh, god. See, this is why I can't do regular girls nights," she said jokingly, "Now all I can think about is how long it's been since I got laid."

Reactions differed in the group—Talia, Mira, and Levy all let out bursts of laughter, while Lucy and Erza clammed up and blathered something unintelligible.

"Like, c'mon, I can't be the only one," Cana continued to whine, "how long has it been for you guys because I am dying over here." She caught Levy's eye first. The little script mage giggled.

"I think just over a month, so yeah, I get what you mean." Cana's gaze shot to Mira.

"Do I even want to know for you?"

Mira's smile was the epitome of angelic. "I saw a friend just this weekend, so I think you might be on your own."

"Last week?" Cana squeaked, "Ugh. Of course you did. Look at you. You're perfect."

Apparently, it was Talia's turn.

"Don't look at me," she raised her hands up innocently, "been over a year."

There was a beat of silence before it felt like the room exploded in exclamations.

"WHAT—"

"A year?!"

"Oh my god how?"

It was Talia's turn to flush under the scrutiny.

"I-I don't know," she stammered, "I was working on a farm up north; not a lot of choices and those there weren't great, so I just. . . didn't?"

"Damn girl," said Cana, "We've gotta get you in someone's bed before you start getting cobwebs."

Talia laughed. "Yeah, I know. But I'm in no rush."

"So that means. . . you haven't done anything since Dimitri, right?" the whole room seemed to appreciate that the question came from Mira. She was the only one close enough to Talia that it wouldn't sound intrusive. Talia nodded.

"He wasn't the. . . nicest guy in the world, right?" Lucy asked with trepidation. A sad smile crept onto Talia's face.

"That's one way to put it, yes. But there were ups and downs, just like with any relationship. We fought a lot, but we also laughed plenty. It's hard to categorize something as solely good or bad."

Lucy sighed wistfully. "Maybe one of these days I'll actually figure out what you guys are talking about, not just from books and stories."

"Dating life not so hot?" prodded Cana.

"More like frozen solid," the celestial mage rested her chin in her hands and pouted, "I haven't even had my first kiss yet."

"I still don't understand what the holdup is," Cana took another sip of wine, "You're hot as hell. How are guys not drooling after you?"

"I don't know. . . Just waiting to find the one, you know?"

Talia gave a groan and rolled her eyes.

"Look—I'm sorry if this comes off as rude," she said flatly, "but all that 'waiting for the one' stuff is nonsense." She saw Lucy brace a bit, and her gaze and tone softened. "First times are awful. For everyone." Lucy gave a confused look. "Kissing, making out, sex. . . they're all just skills. They take practice." A smile grew on Talia's face and she gave a laugh of a scoff. "My first kiss was so bad, it felt like I was kissing a dog. And my first time in bed, I literally had to hold myself back from asking 'is that it?'."

The girls chuckled and Lucy seemed to relax a bit. She was still uncomfortable, but it had lessened.

"It's not a big, momentous thing. Or, at least, I don't think it should be. It's a first, like. . . riding a bike or learning to dance. It takes a while to get fun." Talia's eyes were kind, "Absolutely find someone you trust and are comfortable with, bonus points if they're hot. But this is something you'll hopefully be doing regularly for the rest of your life. There's really no point to stand on ceremony about it."

"Yeah, man, I'm sure Natsu would be happy to volunteer," cackled Cana. Lucy's face turned a rather bright shade of red. She blathered for a moment before becoming coherent.

"Pretty sure that's not gonna happen—have you met the guy? He's the most oblivious creature I've ever met. And besides, it's Natsu. I don't. . . I don't think of him like that."

Nobody in the room except Talia believed her, and her understanding would be corrected later that night. The girls each went their separate ways not long after; they all had the exam to prepare for in one way or another.

"So what's your plan for tomorrow," asked Mira as Talia pulled the bedsheet onto the couch cushions, "Another sparring day?"

"Probably not tomorrow," she tucked the last corner into fabric, "I think tomorrow will be a meditation day." She paused, and her hands stilled. "I think I'll also go to the house tomorrow, or whatever is left of it."

She couldn't see, but Mira had a small, sad smile on her face. "I think the city cleared most of it out, but there's a box of your things we could salvage at the guild hall." Talia resumed making the bed, grabbing the folded blankets from the table nearby and unfurling them. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Talia shook her head. "Thanks, but. . . no. I think I need to do this on my own." She heard Mira hum in response, though whether it was disapproval or acknowledgement, she couldn't tell.

"Well," Mira said sweetly, "Just let me know if I can help with anything. I'll be at the guild hall most of the day." She walked toward her bedroom, but paused before going in. "I won't close the blackout blinds on you again, don't worry," she teased.

Talia smiled. "Thanks. Night, Mira."

"Goodnight."

Talia spent most of the morning just walking through the city. It was a massive circular maze of alleys and cobblestones, and she wound her way through the barren window-boxes and store signs above doors. It's easy to get lost in a circular city, it spirals you in or out in never-ending exploration. What could be around the next bend? Where does that arch lead? Simple questions with simple answers. And that's exactly what she was looking for.

Because all the questions she wanted to avoid were complicated, or at least felt that way. Her heart and mind had fought for so long over what happened—is her life over? Should it be? Would she find someone again who could see her the way he did? Those grey eyes that still slid into her dreams and his slippery smile that tasted so good on her tongue.

Turn here, Talia. Commanded Morrigan inside her mind. But that street led to where she needed to go, and she didn't want to just yet.

Another loop around.

You have already had seven.

Talia sighed. It was already close to mid-day; she had been wandering for hours. This wasn't going to get easier with another round. She swallowed her apprehension and allowed her feet to follow the weathered path in her mind back to the house. The way was frighteningly familiar—the path in a recurring nightmare. She turned the final corner. She should be able to just see the . . .

There was an empty lot where her home once stood.

The take-over mage told you of this. Morrigan's voice was kinder than usual. Her snide edge all but gone. Talia took a shaky breath and kept walking.

I know. I just . . . it's different to see it than to know it.

Talia stood before the empty lot, unmoving. The flat dirt before her an odd scar on the gaping wound of absence. The brick of the adjacent buildings changed color where the roof line once cut; sun-bleached brick above and warm red cut cleanly apart.

She remembered when they bought the house—barely a month engaged, she was mad for him and would follow his lead at any turn. Signing those papers, seeing her name next to his on the deed. She had been so happy. She would finally have her own, well, everything. The dormitory life would be behind her, and she would get to wake up each morning next to the man she loved. She baked birthday cakes in that kitchen. Hung photographs of both their lives and families on the walls.

That was not happiness. Morrigan's words laced through her memories like a frigid wind.

Talia, her back to a counter, Dimitri screaming at her and drawing a kitchen knife from the block. He pointed the tip toward her and articulated his hysteria in the air with the blade.

Talia, pushed roughly by Dimitri over a wooden chair, the legs and back splintering under her weight as she crashed through it.

Talia, shoved into a wall.

Talia, gasping for air with his hand around her throat—

"Ok I get it!" she snapped aloud. Her fists clenched and tears burned her eyes.

It is one thing to not speak ill of the dead. Morrigan's voice was softer, now. Kinder. But you should remember things as they were, not as you wished to see them.

Talia sat down on the sidewalk stiffly, her back leaning against the cold base of a wrought iron lamppost. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, staring blankly into the empty space.

"The sun comes up, I think about you," she said softly, "I talk to friends, I think about you." A tear fell down her cheek, the streak of wetness long on its path down her jaw. "It's like I'm losing my mind." Her breath was hiccupping now. The longer she stayed here, the more the memories resurfaced, ripping that barely healed wound wider and wider with every heartbeat. The emptiness, the loneliness, that hole behind her heart; gods it burned. The tears flowed freely now. Reaching for a coffee cup when suddenly it felt like a time she was reaching for his hand. Going to fetch something trivial but suddenly remembering the loss—staring blankly at a street corner, unmoving in her daze. The sleepless nights, the nightmares of his dead eyes staring into her.

But the moments that Morrigan pressed forward hurt differently. Trying three different shirts to find a neckline that would cover the bruises. Her head ringing for an hour from the anger in his voice. Talia saw herself, over and over again: pushed, struck, battered, bruised. . . broken.

"You said you loved me. . ." she whispered, "Were you just being kind?"

Someone cleared their throat behind her. She knew that timbre. She didn't turn.

"I'm sorry my dear, but I don't think he was all that kind to begin with," said Master Makarov, his voice low. He strode to her side, his eyes soft as they looked down to her. "May I join you?"

Talia nodded weakly, her eyes hadn't moved from the empty space. He sat beside her.

"Gramps. . ." her voice was shaky, "does this hole go away?" She rubbed her fingertips over her heart. It ached horribly.

"No, not really," he remembered, "But it does get smaller." He hated seeing one of his children in such pain, but he knew that these things wouldn't heal unless truly faced. And even then, they were never really gone. "When my wife died. . ."

Talia turned to look at him. It was incredibly rare for him to bring up Lorayne.

"I was utterly lost. Laxus was five, Ivan was already twisting more and more away from the light." He took a deep breath, "She was my rudder. All of my impatience, my impulsiveness, for her I slowed down. She taught me to be kind. I couldn't imagine a world without her, and suddenly she was gone. Every time I open the door of that guild hall, I half expect to see her sitting on the bar, her bright little shoes swinging off the ledge."

He grasped Talia's hand as he felt the tears well up. They sat quietly for a moment, both taking the time to remember—to allow for all that pain, that loneliness to sit heavily in the back of their throats.

"It gets easier," he continued, his voice low, "but it is one wound that will never fully heal."

They sat in silence for an hour; a light squeeze from one hand or the other the only communication between them. There weren't coherent thoughts or memories running through either of their minds, just half-recollections of a smile, the smell of a soap, a laugh from down the hall. All the little things that make up a life. And trying to make sense of the world now that it was gone. The sun had no right to rise, but it did. The birds still sang just as sweetly. It was so wrong that such a massive part of their life was gone, and yet the world spun on, unyielding in its progression.

Makarov gave her hand a stronger squeeze and he moved to rise, groaning as he did. "I need to get back to the guild hall and finish that paperwork. Lorayne always hated when I let it pile up." He gave a small smile. "However you remember him, let it guide you into the person you want to be. Nothing is invaluable, even the darkest days. Learn from the good, learn from the bad, and make yourself a person you'll be proud of."

Talia nodded. Her tears had dried, but the streaks lingered on her cheeks.

"Come home before supper. I know you can handle yourself, but warm food and good company will help a day like this."

She nodded. "Thank you, Gramps."

"Of course, my child." His footsteps tread softly on the pavement as he walked away.

"Hey," said Lucy, plate in-hand, "Mind if we join you?

Talia looked up from her meal to the celestial mage and Levy at her side.

"Of course! You're always welcome." She motioned to the empty chairs at the table as the two sat down.

"So what have you been doing with all those marbles on the second floor?" Levy asked, skewering a piece of meat with her fork. "I saw you running after a few that rolled off the ledge."

Talia gave an embarrassed huff of a laugh. "They're tricksy little things; I picked them up at a shop this afternoon. It's a meditation practice. Trying to move all of them in and out and then isolating one to be still or to move in the opposite direction." She took a sip of water. "But sometimes they wander too far or knock into each other and then I have to go chasing after them like a kid."

Lucy chewed and swallowed. "Can't say I've ever heard of that training technique before. I don't even know where I would start."

"Nah, it's a sound thing. Probably air, too, now that I think about it. Might be good for little Wendy to try." She paused. "She. . . is an Air Dragon Slayer, right?"

Levy shook her head. "Sky. Basically same thing, though."

"Ah, ok."

They ate in a comfortable quiet, sometimes a nothing conversation beginning and disappearing into a mouthful of food. The guild hall around them buzzed with other mages coming in for dinner, and it sounded like the creaking saloon door to the kitchen was ever-present. The light outside began to fade, summer sun slowly dipping its way behind the city structures.

"Can I . . . ask a question?" Lucy said, her voice apprehensive. Talia quirked an eyebrow.

"Sure, what's up?"

Lucy glanced at Levy and then back to Talia.

"Mira told you about the Battle of Fairy Tail, right?"

Talia hummed in acknowledgement. "Yes, I know the basics."

"I just don't really understand," Lucy's voice was thoughtful, "Why would Laxus think to pit his own guild members, his own family, against each other? What good could that possibly accomplish? And threatening the townspeople. . . I just don't get why."

Talia's jaw cocked to the side slightly in thought, and she crossed her arms on the table. She studied the twists and turns of the wood grain.

"Despite being S-Class and despite being one of the strongest mages I've ever met, Laxus has never felt comfortable in his own standing." A sad smile ghosted the corner of her mouth before disappearing. "Every accomplishment he ever had was written off because his grandfather was the Master. And every time he mis-stepped or something went wrong, it was likened to his father." She looked to Levy, who nodded—the script mage had apparently filled Lucy in on Ivan's expulsion. "He never had his own credit, never felt like he had his own sense of self. Everything he did was in relation to someone else. Everything was 'of course'-ed away."

Talia's eyes were wistful a moment, and Lucy was surprised at the warmth in her expression.

"He's actually quite intelligent. He read everything he could as a teenager, tried to understand the old magicks and try to think of ways to counteract them. He wasn't even S-Class then, but he tried so hard. He was exceptional and everyone just rolled their eyes."

"I've seen his name in some old check-out slips in books from the archives," Levy added and Talia nodded.

"He had actually talked about something like the Battle of Fairy Tail before—except more as a game or tournament." A competitive glint flashed in her eyes. "It would be a way to raise money for the guild, or charities, or even just to help some of the mages here grow in their skills. Tiered tournaments like that are good for business; it highlights the different types of mages the guild has and can bring in new clients." Her voice bounced in a laugh, "It's actually a really good idea."

Lucy had never thought of it like that—take out the forced participation, and it could actually be a lot of fun. Without holding the citizens captive, of course.

"I don't know what got into him, though," Talia's voice was irritated now. "He's really not that much of a jerk. Stubborn and prone to his own temper, sure. But he's incredibly analytical and logical—sometimes to a fault. He should've known better."

She closed her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.

"It's nothing to dwell on now. How's your training going?"

"Pretty good, though Cana takes a lot of 'water' breaks," Lucy smiled. Levy looked sheepish.

"I haven't seen Gajeel or Lily all day. I think they might've ditched me."

"What?!" Lucy squeaked, but Talia gave an easy laugh.

"Doesn't really surprise me. I don't think that metal muncher knows the first thing about teamwork."

Levy clucked her tongue. "You'd be surprised. He teamed up with Natsu against Laxus."

Talia was, indeed, surprised. "And how'd that go?"

Lucy and Levy sported matching looks of embarrassment. "The three of them were wrapped up tighter than mummies the next day." Talia barked a laugh.

"Three puffed up Dragon Slayers in one place, that must've been a sight."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I didn't see it," snipped Lucy, "the kick-back from knocking out one of his Thunder Palace orbs was bad enough. I'd rather not be anywhere near any of his actual attacks."

Mira walked over and placed each woman's alcoholic drink of choice in front of them with a wink before walking back toward the kitchen.

"You're a bad influence!" called Talia to her bouncing white hair.

"The best one you've got!" Mira threw back.

Talia, Levy, and Lucy all laughed and reached for their respective drinks.

"So when do you all head to Tenrou to set up for the exam?" asked Levy.

Talia swirled the glass in her hand, ice pulling against the golden bourbon. "Day after tomorrow, I think. But the Master is treating us to a spa day in Hargeon before we head out, so that will be lovely."

Lucy whined her envy, and her face made Talia smile. She was so open and trusting, it was hard not to like the girl. Talia's mind wandered the shadowed path into itself. She must've been like that once, too—heart open to the world and ready to embrace whomever could fit. But she felt a coldness in her chest, a cool shell over her heart. When had that calcified? Even now, she felt like she was a step back from the world, near enough to the fire to catch the light, but still too far to warm her bones.

She could leave tomorrow if she wanted. Turn back to the road and live her days in a cold cottage by the sea. It was a simple life, a clean one. There were no complications of when the sheep needed to be fed, the kettle wouldn't whistle without a light. She could meet the dawn every day and watch the sun set into the plains of the west. Would anyone notice if she did? Being back at the guild was nice, seeing the smiles and the commotion that eventually followed. But she wasn't a part of that, was she? She hadn't been for a while.

Mira's blue eyes glanced to Talia. She was worried about her friend. Having to visit the empty lot where her home once stood, the remnants of a life swept away without her consent and no way to put the pieces back together. The past few years had been difficult for both of them—Mira losing Lisanna and Talia's corrosive relationship with Dimitri just atop the list. She had watched as her friend was eaten away, bit by bit. The sparkle had left her eyes and her smile became practiced. She could see hints of her Talia now, but she still wasn't quite right. And just now. . . she looked like she wanted nothing more than to dissipate into the air. Mira knew that look.

Talia's gaze shifted over her shoulder to see who tapped her. Mira stood behind her and untied the apron over her black dress. "Come on," the deamoness said quietly, "Let's get you home." Talia tried to fumble a half-hearted answer. Her green eyes were listless. She quietly nodded and excused herself from the table.

They walked in silence, Talia's feet hardly made a sound at all on the paved street. The last, fading colors of sunset smeared into the horizon with lilac and lavender nestled into rose and tangerine. The lamps flickered alight as they walked, and shops began to close for the day. Before long, they stood before the arches of the most beautiful building in the city—Kardia Cathedral. The columns and smoothly rippled stone stood proudly in the dusk light. They walked up the steps and lightly pushed open the massive wooden door.

There were no services tonight, and the pews had been cleared. The massive branches of the pipe organ stood straight and tall behind the ornamented dais, but there were no others around. Talia turned to the first great column at her right and ran her hands over the cool, smooth stone. Mira went to fetch cushions. This had always been their place of sanctuary—not out of any need of religion or piety, but just to appreciate being in a beautiful space. Talia continued to the next column, her fingers idly tracing the grooves and florets.

The arches and barrel-domed ceiling stretched high above. The stone held whatever sound was given, and the quiet was still against her skin. No murmurs or buzzing, no incessant tick or taps of jostling guildmates or neighbors. Just. . . stillness. The low glimmer of the streetlamps outside warmed the glow of the many windows, and the massive stained glass pieces at either end of the cathedral held a warm hinting glow of the stories within their leaded frames.

The cathedral and the sea were one and the same to her, and so were the vast mountains and fissured caverns of the west—places to remind her that she was small. She didn't have to strive to be a grand figure here: there were no rankings of mages, no pressure of the outside world. You were allowed to be exactly what you were when you walked in—no need or want of anything more.

Talia sat on the cold stone floor, back against the column, and closed her eyes. A song hummed into her throat, and she felt it roll over her tongue, the sounds twisting sweetly between her lips as she brought it to life in the cathedral. The words were old and rough. She didn't truly know the lyrics or the tune, but it felt right. Spun from the dark spot behind her heart, weaving through the cool quiet of the cathedral and slowly filling the space, the harmonies floating and rounding out themselves. Chords built in the air around her—minor, diminished as they layered, a humming drone somewhere underneath.

You didn't need to know the words. You didn't need to know the language. It was a song of loss and the wretched way time beat on even though it had no right to. The type of breath that made any air ice, and throats that burn through swallowed tears. A pen left on the table, shoes under the bed, waiting patiently for someone who would never touch them again.

Mira stood quietly in the doorframe. A tear rolled down her cheek silently as she listened. The song hung in the air long after it had finished. She didn't dare break through.

Finally, the cathedral stilled again, and Mira padded quietly to her friend. She placed a cushion on the floor for herself and silently handed the other to Talia. They shifted and re-adjusted into some semblance of comfort. But after a moment, Talia laid on her back and placed her head in Mira's lap. Tear streaks had left salty lines on her cheeks that barely caught the light. Mira's hands wound through her hair, her fingers stroking the tresses soothingly.

"Why did I come back, Mira?" Talia whispered, eyes lost in the arches above her. "The Old One says I need to find the dawn at the end of the storm, but . . . what if there isn't one? What if it's just this—this crack I can't fill, this distance from everything that's supposed to be real?"

Mira thought a moment. "Just because there may not be a dawn in sight doesn't mean there isn't one," her eyes caught the glow of a streetlamp outside. "You're not cracked. You're not broken." Her fingers trailed calming lines on Talia's forehead. "And we can fill that distance with love."

Green eyes looked to her, fear shining through, desperate to escape their own depths. Mira looked down at her with a gentle smile. "Overcoming grief is not linear, Tal. There are going to be bad days where everything feels raw and fresh. This is just one of those days." She looked back out the windows across the atrium. "Just keep breathing and take one step at a time. Eventually you'll look back and see how far you've come."

They stayed on the floor of the cathedral as the moon slowly cut its arc across the sky and the stars shimmered and twinkled their way through the heavens. It was an evening to revel in the simple darkness, the quiet of the silver starlight.

Please fave and review if you have the will/time. You already make me happy just by being here and joining me for this story.