"What are you writing?" Eran asked Pip, not for the first time.

"You can't read it until I'm finished," Pip said stubbornly. "It's an idea I had a long time ago, but thought was stupid."

Eran sighed and looked at her watch. 11:42. Iddo was planning some sort of surprise for her, and said she couldn't come until noon. Well, maybe if she walked real slow...

Without even bidding farewell, she left the room. She wandered aimlessly through the halls, wishing time didn't creep so slowly. She turned a blind corner and almost ran into a man.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered. Then she looked again. He wasn't a man, he was an elf. A blond elf, with a quiver of arrows at his back, and a long knife strapped to his side. Legolas.

"Excuse me, my lady," he said, looking utterly confused, "but I seem to have lost my way. I passed unexpectedly through a doorway and have come upon this place, wholly unfamiliar to me. If you would but guide me to the path leading toward Rivendell, I should be fortunate indeed."

Something deep inside her, some ghost of her past that she had expelled from her mind, whispered urgently that she should tackle the unsuspecting elf, that he must not get away. In the space of a heartbeat, she considered the offer. Then her watch beeped, signaling the hour of twelve, and she was jerked to reality. Eran looked at Legolas in mild irritation that he delayed her, and she silently ridiculed the last fading wisp of Honeyblossom Moonsugardew Starlet Rain.

"I'd like to help you, but it's a bit complicated and I don't have the time," she answered, glancing again at her watch impatiently. "If you go down this hall to the end, turn right and follow that stairwell up until you come to the green sector, you will find the reception desk. Someone there should be able to help you."

"Thank you." Legolas nodded his gratitude and turned down the hall.

Eran watched for a moment to be sure he knew the way, and then hurried down to the basement.

...............................................................................

Brent, now wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and khaki cloak, sipped his coffee and glanced at Jete from his perch on the desk.

"Thanks for helping us out like this," she was saying.

"No prob," he said, wincing as he liberated a lock of his blond hair from Erol's curious grasp. "My job gets kinda boring when you guys do your jobs right. 'sides, I've had more than my fill of fangirls, and if you've found a way to cure them, I'll help any way I can. Just lucky you convinced G to ask. He's a little narrow-minded."

Gaib grinned from his chair.

"It's not like I had any choice. She threatened to put me in the 'sueifyer!"

Brent squinted at his friend.

"You'd make a butt-ugly 'sue," he commented.

"What other kind is there?" Gaib countered.

Jete changed the subject.

"How long have you been a decoy, Brent?"

"Mmm... 'bout four years."

"Did it take long to get used to... everything?"

"Only the ears." He touched the pointy appendages. "It felt like they'd been mauled by a bear for about a month after the surgery."

"Is the hair real?"

Brent grinned proudly.

"Yep! One hundred percent natural, and as gorgeous as if I just stepped out of the salon."

"Geeze," Gaib said disgustedly, "You're even starting to sound like an elf!"

Brent shrugged.

"Hey, four years of play-acting, something's bound to rub off."

"Eran didn't even twitch?" Jete asked.

"Nope. She looked a little peeved, like I just interrupted something. I think she's cured for good."

"Congratulations, Jete," Gaib said. "I'll take the proposal to our head of tactics and strategies first thing tomorrow. Who knows, you might even get your own department."

Jete felt a deep satisfaction, and turned to look at her other charge, only to find that Pip had stopped her perpetual writing and stood holding her closed notebook.

"It's finished," Pip said softly. She offered the notebook to Jete.

The ISPCE agent opened it warily and read aloud.

"'White Horse Upon Green, part one. By Yvette Charleson.' Yvette? Is that your name?"

She nodded.

"Continue, please."

"'Ride on, ride on, soldiers of Eorl!' The marshal shouted above the deafening noise of horse's hooves on ground, and men's war cries. The orcs were retreating; they had chased them long, and over many miles to fight and now the remaining survivors were in close reach. The ground was hard, and vegetation scarce as spring was just beginning to arrive in the plains." Jete quickly scanned the rest of the page, then flipped through some more pages. "This is really good."

Yvette smiled shyly.

"No more 'sues. If Eran can do it, I can too."

Jete looked around at her friends with tears of joy in her eyes.

"Two down," she said.

With an odd mixture of desolation and hope, Gaib completed, "Only the couple odd million to go."

......................................................................

Well, there you have it. My fic is now complete. I leave it to Flor-gurl to chronicle the events of fangirl curing. White Horse Upon Green is an actual fic, and it's really good. It's written by A. E. Hall, who is not named Yvette, and as far as I know, is not and has never been a pip luster. She, by the way, has given me permission to use what little I have of her story, and to recommend you to read it. Honestly, it's a very well written serious fic about Eomer. You should read it.

Phaidra, thank you for reviewing, I hope it's given you courage in your own struggle.  and I understand what you mean. I'm 48.5% insane myself. Not quite unsane yet, but almost.

Hirilnara, yes, please do. I hope nothing he may now write will clash with what I've done. Thanks for all your support.

Flor-gurl, yeah, who would've thought? I know I didn't until I wrote it. I pass the baton to you, you have free reign over Eran, Iddo, Gaib, Brent, Yvette, Erol, and Cheeseball. You have limited reign over Jete. After all, she is me, so I should have a say.

A. E. Hall, thanks for the first paragraph of your fic. I hope others like it as much as I do.

To all my other reviewers, malfoyelf, kittycatblack, liliac, huinesoron, and any others I may have missed because my stupid computer won't let me see a whole page of my reviews (I've read them, I just don't remember them) thank you for your support, and I hope you all won't be too brokenhearted that this is over.

Special thanks to the pancake & co. writers, Huinesoron, Hirilnara, and liliac of the purple cloak, for inspiring this work of... art? Whatever it is, you had a hand in it. Just don't run away screaming.

Well, there's nothing more to be said, except maybe... YES! FINALLY, I'M DONE!!!