Is the end in sight? looks through her binoculars Ah, not quite, but there are some lovely Nick and Greg interactions in this chapter that I'm quite proud of and I think you'll like. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you, thank you for the great reviews. But I know why you're here so no waiting, here's the next chappy of …
Painful Journeys
By Goody
It was Catherine's turn to drive as she and Grissom returned to the crime lab, which was fine with him since he had not gotten off his cell phone since his frightening phone call with Nick.
"So there's no way to make a trace?" Grissom asked, the disappointed look on his face telling Catherine the answer. He nodded his head, "All right, thanks Archie, yeah, I know you did your best. Call me if you do find anything."
He hung up the phone and turned to Catherine, "Archie couldn't track the phone, either the battery's dead or it's been destroyed, no way to get a location."
"From the look on your face I'd say your money was on it being destroyed," she guessed.
Grissom nodded again, deep in worried thought, "They were in trouble Catherine, Nick was scared, it sounded like chaos. They just need to hold on until we can find them, until we can get that clue we need."
Catherine thought Nick may have given them the clues they needed and they just hadn't panned out yet. It wasn't hard to recall Grissom's animated phone call with Brass after losing the connection with Nick.
"Brass, it's Gil. I just got a hold of Nick on Greg's cell phone… no, he's not all right, at least, I don't think so. Anyway, we got cut off pretty quickly but he said that Crane is holding him and Greg in an old house off the 108, it's part of a 'factory neighbourhood', sound familiar? No? Yeah, I know it's a long highway but there must be something like that somewhere. All right, my people will be on it too … bye."
Brass had promised more chopper sweeps but Grissom had clearly been disheartened that he did not recognize Nick's description of the area right away.
Catherine pulled into the Crime Lab and climbed out of the car as eagerly as Grissom, both fervent about following up their leads as quickly as possible. On the way in they passed Warrick whose hopeful look fell away when he saw the despondency on their faces.
"Didn't find anything?" Warrick asked, not expecting much.
Grissom tilted his head, "Actually we got something big, is Sara here?"
"Down the hall, she's doing research on Crane. What did you find?"
"Go get her and meet us in the conference room, I'll explain," Grissom promised, already moving purposely down the hall. Warrick didn't waste any time getting Sara as Catherine dropped off the samples they had gathered to their respective technicians for processing.
She couldn't even force herself to smile as she handed in the DNA samples to Greg's replacement. It was the same guy that had been in for Greg on his days off; he was quiet, cranky and slow, making her miss Greg even more and she rushed away as soon as possible. As she left the lab, absent of humor or loud music, a sudden panic gripped her as she thought about losing Greg, permanently. It was overpowering for a moment, but she breathed deeply and pushed her emotions to the side, a technique learned early in her line of work, and forced herself not to think of that possibility. Focussed once more she headed for the conference room.
Grissom was the last to arrive for the meeting and his eye was immediately drawn to the noticeably empty chair. The sight stopped him in his tracks as he was once more painfully reminded that this was not a normal case, these were two of their own that were missing. But he knew he couldn't think like that, he had to remain objective to function, and as he entered the room he didn't look twice at Nick's empty spot, instead he looked right at Sara who was rummaging through a folder.
"Sara, what did you find out?" Grissom asked, knowing research on Crane was one of their best chances for leads right now.
Sara was prepared and picked up a few sheets of paper to begin her explanation, "I talked to Crane's doctors and they sent over his records, apparently he's made a few breakthroughs in therapy but is nowhere close to sane. It's kind of scary, pretty much every one of these sessions revolve around Crane obsessing about Nick, sometimes becoming violent in earlier meetings. He was determined to become Nick somehow, no matter what it took. Eventually the doctors decided to try and curve his violent tendencies by suggesting instead of becoming Nick, he should want to be friends with Nick."
"How does that make sense?" Warrick asked, not seeing the connection.
"It does in a way. If Crane is obsessed with becoming Nick then he's violent, obsessive, uncontrollable, but if his desire is to be Nick's friend than it's likely he'll become, well, nicer. He'd be easier to get along with, eager to please, willing to change. They thought friendship brings out the best in people, in fact one doctor had a note down that he was going to call Nick soon to see if he would be willing to help in their sessions, but I can guess what he would have said to that."
"Go to hell," Catherine guessed.
"Somewhere along those lines," Sara agreed.
"Well it doesn't seem that they progressed very far, Crane is still violent and not very friendly," Grissom commented.
"Besides, if his goal is to become Nick's friend then he wouldn't have grabbed Greg too right? He should have had no interest in him, unless he was just grabbing him so there would be no witnesses," Warrick thought aloud.
"No, he wanted them both. Crane is too meticulous a planner to just go after Nick whenever it was convenient, he wanted both of them and he picked the perfect time to take them too," Catherine pointed out.
"She's right, we might not have even known they were gone yet if I hadn't tried to call Nick before," Grissom added, and was reminded of his own findings. "Speaking of which, when Catherine and I were at Greg's we tried calling his cell phone and we got an answer."
"Was it Greg?" Sara asked, eyes widening.
"No, it was Nick. He said they were both still alive and being held in a house somewhere on the 108, it's part of a factory neighbourhood, probably remote," Grissom reported.
"How did he sound?" Warrick asked, almost at the edge of his seat.
"Alive, that's what's important, Greg was too. We lost the connection before Nick could tell us more, but we'll work with what we have for now. Warrick, you and Catherine start going through maps, find that neighbourhood, Sara, keep doing what you're doing, research could be the key on this one, I'll be in the tech lab," Grissom said, watching as the meagre remnants of his team rushed out to start working. Catherine held back a second.
"You didn't tell them Crane was there and you heard a gunshot," she pointed out, voice slightly accusatory.
"No need to worry them, they have to focus, they have to have hope," Grissom said, his voice hinting that he felt to the contrary. Catherine grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away.
"We're going to find them, Gris, alive. You believe that don't you?" she asked in disbelief.
Grissom had to shrug sadly, "I want to." And then vanished down the hallway.
Catherine sighed and then joined Warrick to begin scanning maps and locations to find their lost team mates and bring them home.
When he saw Crane storm away to the far corner of the room, paying them no attention and chanting to himself as he banged his head on the wall, Greg's first thought had been of escape. The door was not that far; he was hurt, his body was badly bruised and a few ribs were broken but he still might be able to run, only there was nowhere to go.
Desert, right, not a lot of neighbours.
And then he saw Nick. Bleeding but not caring, eyes locked on Crane, watching his every move. Even if he did run, and somehow get away, he would be leaving Nick behind. Like hell. But Crane was preoccupied, seemingly completely oblivious to his surroundings and Greg was determined to take every chance that was offered to them. Taking a silent, deep breath, Greg pushed himself up on his shoulder, somersaulted forward and pulled his arms behind his legs, stretching until he felt his shoulder had dislocated permanently and struggling, straining not to scream. The pain was horrible, his shoulder was on fire, his broken ribs ground together and his bruises all awoke, but the reward would be wonderful. Finally, panting, he was lying on his back again, legs stretched out and arms where they should be, in front of his body.
Nick saw what he was doing and his head could not have turned from Greg to Crane, over and over again any faster. He watched Greg's progress intently and prayed for Crane to stay in his delusional state for as long as possible. The pride and relief he felt as Greg silently rolled free, arms in front of him, was amazing. Now Greg could get away, at least he would be safe.
But Greg was not running. He briefly locked eyes with Nick, who pointed his head towards the door, willing Greg to run. The lab tech shook his head, he wouldn't leave, but he also wouldn't take this lying down any more. Greg silently rose to his feet and carefully took three steps across the floor. Shaking from adrenaline, pain and fear, he leaned over and picked up the baseball bat, which had been carelessly discarded earlier. Now holding his breath, he inched closer to the man leaning against the wall, still mumbling to himself. Greg heard his own name and nearly stopped but the strong wood in his hands made him confident and as Crane turned around a fraction he released the breath he had been holding in a cry as he swung the bat against the man's head.
Crane fell to the floor and Greg nearly collapsed himself, his shoulder protesting against such movements with pain. The swing had been far from powerful but it had been the best his abused body could do and as he saw Crane try to rise from the floor adrenaline urged him to strike once more, putting more of his anger and fear into the blow.
"Stay down!"
"Greg run! Get the hell out of here!" Nick cried, not caring how triumphant Greg seemed he knew things could turn bad again any second, after all it wasn't their day for luck.
"No, this is over!" Greg shouted, releasing his fear and frustration. He hit Crane again but then stumbled and cried out as his shoulder finally gave out on him, refusing to take any more. The pain was incredible and Greg knew that last blow had hurt him more than Crane.
"Greg, get the gun!" Nick suggested, trying to focus him with some plan of action. Greg breathed, trying to ride out the pain, but heard what Nick said. He moved forward, knowing if he had the gun he wouldn't need the bat anymore, but Crane was still moving and Greg hesitated.
How do you knock a guy out without killing him? He wondered, unwilling to take Crane's life despite his hatred for the man. Before he could figure it out Crane was rolling on his side and Greg had to strike once more – but the blow never landed.
Crane was faster than he had thought and Greg was moving understandably slow. Before the bat could connect Crane had rolled onto his back, brought up his hands and caught the bat in midair, holding the end tightly. Greg's heart froze and his eyes widened in panic.
"No!" Nick cried, his fear tripling as he stood by helplessly.
"Not nice Gregory," Crane hissed and tugged at the bat, but Greg wouldn't let go. He knew if he lost the weapon he was dead and his grip locked tighter than his porn collection hidden at the lab. They both pulled for a moment as Crane got to his feet, neither giving up the bat, until Greg made a desperate move and kicked the other man suddenly in the groin, knowing dirty tactics were acceptable in this game. Crane was bent over but he did not let go and even as he gasped he shoved the bat back into Greg's stomach, causing him to collapse to one knee as his battered ribs took the brunt of the hit. Crane snarled and twisted the bat upwards to strike the lab tech hard under the jaw, knocking him to his back.
Greg finally released the bat and lay on the floor, opening and closing his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Fierce anger took hold of Crane as he straightened to his full height and lifted the bat above his head to strike once more, only once, and end the young man's life. He would not have even considered hesitating if Nick's voice hadn't broken through his tormented mind.
"Nigel stop! I meant what I said before; if you hurt him I'll never be your friend, never! We'll be enemies!" Nick cried out, trying to sound strong and in control of the situation when really he was crumbling on the inside. He cursed Greg for doing something so dangerous, making him so scared, but he also understood that they had to take every opportunity to get out of here and admired his bravery for taking action.
Meanwhile, Crane's gaze flicked from Greg to Nick, clearly tormented once more. Anger continued to build in his body and his eyes and finally he snapped, yelling at the top of his lungs as he threw the bat away with all his strength, watching it smash into the hallway wall and clatter down the stairs.
"You don't understand, it's not fair!!!" Crane screamed, first at Nick, then at the sky, as if pleading to God. He pulled his hands through his hair holding his head as if in pain and rocking back and forth on his feet. "Don't understand, don't understand, don't understand …" he muttered several times, sounding overwhelmed. Eventually he looked to the door and saw it as a chance of escape, a way to recover, think and get his bearings. Desperate to regain control he stormed out of the room, not looking back, but was thoughtful enough to snap the lock into place behind him as he descended down the stairs to find comfort in his broken home.
Nick watched him leave, Greg only listened, not having the strength to move his head. Both were silent as they heard Crane go downstairs and stop in the living room, then there was nothing. They knew he hadn't left but he clearly wasn't moving either and they both sighed in relief.
Wanting to cry from the insanity of it all, Nick settled on sliding down the wall to rest on the floor almost panting with relief as he leaned his head against knees. When he looked up a few moments later his gaze fell on Greg. The younger man didn't move for a few moments, he just lay there blinking and breathing, and then he slowly rolled onto his side and met Nick's eyes. It was clear he was now concussed twice over and Nick knew he would not be thinking very clearly for awhile.
As Greg looked at Nick he appeared confused for a moment, and then said weakly, "Nick … you're bleeding."
Nick chuckled humourlessly at something so obvious, "So are you buddy."
Greg looked down and seemed surprised to see the cuts coating his arms and chest then looked back up at Nick, squinting as he tried hard to think clearly, "Well you're bleeding … centrally … around the general shoulder area. Is it bad?"
Nick looked at the wound, with his adrenaline dying down it was really starting to hurt and he didn't dare move it needlessly, especially considering the steady flow of blood still coming from it. The bullet hadn't gone all the way through and he thought infection might be an issue later; the house was filthy after all, it had been abandoned for close to twenty years and there was no way to get any sterile cleansing.
"I think I'm fine, it didn't hit anything serious." He took a breath. "Greg, I want to tell you that you did a great job, okay, you're being really strong man and I'm proud of you," Nick whispered, trying to keep his voice steady even as the realization that they may both die continued to strike him.
Greg actually smiled, genuinely, with no sadness or fear, "Thanks Nick, that means a lot." He said sincerely but his eyes were glazed and Nick knew he didn't understand their situation completely anymore after that last blow to the head. Content with his final words, Greg's smile remained as his eyes slowly drifted shut. Nick briefly thought that that was a good idea, he was beyond exhausted, but then the small voice in his head shouted at him, Concussion!
"Damn it," Nick mumbled, then continued slightly louder, "Greg, Greg you can't fall asleep man. Stay with me, open your eyes."
"I'm tired … bleeding … sleep," Greg replied in a haze, not opening his eyes.
"Come on G, talk to me, it's your favourite past time and I'm here to listen," Nick implored him. Even as he spoke he felt guilty because not only did he want Greg to stay awake for his own health, but he also did not want to be alone, awake, in this nightmare.
"Later," Greg promised, his voice becoming weaker.
Nick tried a new tactic and felt horrible for it, "Greg please, stay awake, you wouldn't leave me alone here, would ya? I'm all by myself."
"Call Warrick then," Greg suggested, his voice still groggy, but his eye opened a slit.
Nick laughed, "I can't call Warrick, all I got is you lab rat, so get up." His voice became demanding at the end, knowing how Greg usually reacted when he was angry.
Both eyes were now open and Nick could see comprehension starting to seep back in.
"Okay, okay, I'm up," Greg whispered, blinking away the welcoming sleep and trying to sit up to help him stay awake. The pain that came with moving stopped him, "Oh god. Okay, I'm up, but I'm not moving off this floor."
"That's all right, just stay awake and talk to me," Nick requested.
Greg nodded his head, "So, what should we talk about, news, women, sports or the latest torture techniques used by madmen?"
Nick leaned back against the wall tiredly, falling easily into their banter, "I'll take women for one thousand Alex."
Greg had to think for a moment but then smiled, "You see the new receptionist on dayshift?"
"No, she cute?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Quality grade, president's choice, I'd pay to father your children, kind of hot." Nick laughed as Greg continued and slowly moved into a sitting position. "She had open toed shoes on one day too."
"And?"
"None bigger than the big toe," Greg reported, satisfied with his findings.
Nick smiled too, "I'll be sure to welcome her onboard when we get back."
Greg's face seemed to fall at this and he sat up completely, looking around the room they were both trapped in he felt unable to see his simple, mundane life past its walls, "Yeah … when we get back." He said softly, eyes drawn to the window.
"We're getting out of here Greg, Grissom's coming," Nick reminded the younger man once more.
Greg nodded as he oh so slowly pushed himself onto his feet and walked over to sit beside Nick once more. He was cradling his ribs, and his whole body hurt, but he did not complain as he leaned against the wall and slid down it wearily.
"And what could Grissom possibly find to tell him where we are?" Greg asked sceptically, his spirits understandably low. He eyed the blood flowing freely down Nick's arm and as they spoke he began to carefully rip off non-bloody strips of cloth from the button down shirt he was wearing over his T-shirt.
Nick smiled a little, "You're the CSI in training, you tell me. What kind of clues did we leave behind?"
Greg shook his head, which was pounding, "Nick, I'm really not in the mood."
"Come on Einstein, what leads are there to follow?"
Greg recognized the tone as a challenge and couldn't resist; he thought back, "Well, first our phone call with Grissom, he knows we're on highway 108 and alive and that Crane has us. I imagine they checked out both our apartments, they'll find both our cars in my parking lot and maybe some of my blood."
"Plus there was video surveillance," Nick added.
"Which means they'll know what Crane's driving," Greg's spirits rose with each new clue. "They'll probably do chopper sweeps of the desert which sometimes lucks out, but this place is old and probably not on a lot of maps anymore. But, someone must be assigned to research on Crane and maybe eventually they'll come across the fact that he lived here, and they'll make the connection to the highway and …"
"And they'll find us," Nick finished smiling.
"Yeah, they will." Greg's faith seemed slightly reaffirmed and he returned the smile as he finished ripping up his shirt. He picked up one of the wads and pushed himself onto his toes, closer to Nick, "Don't move all right, this doesn't look that great, I'm gonna try and slow the bleeding."
"All right," Nick nodded, flinching as Greg tore his shirt from the collar down for easier access to the bullet wound. When he could see it better Greg pressed the makeshift bandage firmly against the blood flow and held it in place. Nick hissed in pain, having to concentrate very hard to keep from pulling away.
"Sorry," Greg said, watching as Nick flinched but knowing he couldn't exactly be gentle or the blood flow wouldn't slow.
"Not your fault," Nick tried to take his mind off the injury and his eyes strayed to the tattered remains of Greg's beloved shirt, once a crazy spiral of blue variations, now unrecognizable strips of cloth or bloody tatters. "Sorry about your shirt, I know it was one of your favourites."
Greg scoffed, "Blood ruined it way before this did."
"And it was so nice to start out with too," Nick added sarcastically.
"You want to bandage up your own arm, Stokes? Then don't mock the fashion sense," Greg threatened lightly.
"What fashion sense?" Nick continued.
"You're just jealous, Mr. Plain-Tucked-In-T-Shirt," Greg mumbled as he threw away the first bloodied cloth and picked up a second one. The bleeding had slowed slightly and he thought he should try a bandage. "Uh, can you possibly, hold that there somehow?" he asked Nick. With his hands cuffed he couldn't hold the bandage in place and wrap the cloth strip around it. Nick nodded and held it there for a moment as Greg picked up a long strip of cloth and wrapped it around Nick's shoulder, holding the makeshift bandage in place. When he had finished tying it there was little more he could do.
"I guess I'm done, sorry it's not much," he reported, sitting back.
"It's great, thanks," Nick said sincerely, feeling better that the injury was cared for in some way at the very least.
"That had to be the least fun thing I've done since … well, anything else that happened today," Greg commented. Feeling a strange, grinding pain when he moved, he looked down at the bloodiest parts of his shirt. He lifted up the edge and saw several pieces of glass still imbedded in his side. Sighing, he began to pull them out as he and Nick spoke, the talking helping to take his mind off the pain.
"You know, I could have sworn you told me once you were an eternal optimist, I thought you could find a bright side to anything," Nick asked, now just trying to make conversation to distract them in their sad, quiet room.
Greg gave him a sceptical look but humoured him anyway before he flinched after pulling out a long slice of mirror from his side, "Optimism? Okay, well I could go for the obvious 'where there's life there's hope' cliché, but it's overused. Um, we're both still alive, conscious, not quite fighting for our lives anymore, Grissom's looking for us we assume, we can count on some serious time off work when we get back, and oh, I think my shoulder popped back into place last time Crane hit me."
"There, that's what I wanted to hear, positive," Nick replied with a sad sort of irony.
"Well, don't expect too much more of that," Greg commented. Finished with his task his gaze once again took in the tormented looking room and his mind mulled over their impossible, insane predicament. Tears that he refused to let fall suddenly pricked at his eyes as he realized that this may be the last room that he ever saw, that he could die very soon and he knew it wasn't right. Quietly, he whispered pleadingly, a hand running over his face, "God, I just want to go home."
Guilt quickly crept over Nick and his eyes dropped to the floor and then went up again to meet his friend's, "Greg, look, I know I said this before but I'm sorry that you …"
"You're right, you did say that before," Greg cut him off curtly. He turned to Nick, eyes now shining with sympathy and understanding, "And you didn't need to say it the first time so please don't say it again. We're in this together Nick, no point in looking back now."
There was a pause as Nick smiled in appreciation for Greg's words. It was a few moments before the lab tech broke the silence, his quirky smile returning, "So, you gonna Superman your way out of those handcuffs soon so we can get out of here?"
Nick tugged once at the cuffs, they wouldn't budge and it hurt his shoulder at an exponential level so he didn't try again, "Sorry man, there must be some kryptonite around here, my tank's empty."
Greg scoffed good-heartedly, "Geez, five days a week at the gym and you got nothing to show for it."
"I can kick your scrawny butt," Nick defended, taking pride in his muscular prowess.
"Not if you can only move two feet in any given direction," Greg answered, motioning towards Nick's trapped hands.
"Technicality," Nick muttered.
Greg smirked in triumph, "Technical knock outs, are still knock outs."
"Yeah, but no one brags about those," Nick added as his last defence.
Greg just shrugged having nothing to say to that. They sat in silence for a few moments, listening, thinking, reality breaking back into the world of levity they had been trying to maintain with meaningless banter. Bruises started to hurt again, memories of the day played back in full detail and fear reasserted itself, all in a few moments of silence.
Looking at Nick, Greg whispered, that deep fear returning to his voice, "Do you think he's coming back?"
"I don't know," Nick replied just as quietly. "I think I … confused him with what I said before. Maybe he'll stay disoriented for awhile, give us time for Grissom to find us or maybe find a way out of here."
"Well, this may rob me of my eternal optimist title but I don't think escape is going to be real high on our accomplishments list. The door's locked, the window's barred and you're stuck to a radiator. I've seen my fair share of westerns and action flicks and even I can't think of a way out of here," Greg announced sombrely, but clearly was not opposed to the idea of Grissom finding them.
"You never know, an opportunity may present itself," Nick said, taking the optimist role upon himself.
"Wait, let me guess, and we'll be ready when it does?" Greg replied as if quoting a low grade action movie.
"Now you got it," Nick smiled, briefly. The smile vanished when they heard a crash down below from the ground floor. Nick's first thought was a SWAT team, but after another second it was clear there was only one person downstairs and it was Nigel Crane. Another loud crash complete with breaking glass and clanging metal soon hit their ears.
"What's he doing?" Greg asked, his voice quieter than ever.
"I don't know, maybe he's freaking out," Nick suggested, remembering Crane's unstable emotional state when he left.
"He's not yelling or anything, I thought he liked doing that," Greg pointed out, recalling the psychopath's screams the other times he had become frustrated.
"You're right," Nick agreed, there would be more noise from Crane himself if he were breaking down.
Another crash, like a box being knocked over.
"Sounds like he's looking for something," Greg suggested as he heard sounds of rummaging.
Nick listened and had to agree again, but also had to ask the terrifying question, "What?"
Greg shrugged, "Don't ask me, he's your stalker."
"It's not like we're penpals man, I didn't ask for this," Nick hissed through angry teeth, his emotions erupting suddenly.
Greg's look matched his in seriousness but also held sympathy, not anger, "I know."
Nick closed his eyes and sighed, he hadn't meant to take that out on Greg, "I'm sorry."
The lab tech just smiled oddly and shrugged, "Yeah, I know that too."
Downstairs the banging stopped, there were no more sounds of rummaging, and Crane laughed, once. Then both their heart rates doubled as they once again heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
TBC
gasp What will happen??? I hope I'm not supposed to know. Wait, I am? It's up to me? Well, I'll have to figure something out then, until that time though, I should thank my great reviewers.
Hello my great reviewers!!!!!! Okay, ff. net has been a little messed up lately and not all my reviews are showing up (as in I got emails that said I have reviews and then I couldn't find them on the site) so if you reviewed and I don't thank you personally, I'm sorry, it's the site's fault, and I thank you now.
Whiterose01 – well Greg does like to talk so I think him trying to humor his kidnapper is pretty entertaining and believable, glad you liked it. Thank you for reviewing, you're wonderful.
Kristen999 – everyone seemed to like Greg fighting back, glad you approved. 'sunshine and roses' soon? No way, we're still in the middle of winter, but summer does come eventually, it just may take a few chapters.
Mellaithwan – My that was an impassioned review, good that you're getting all those feelings off your chest. Yes, many hate Nigel but do not worry, he will get his just desserts … eventually. I'm still having fun for now.
Lancey – You are hilarious! I can't believe you wanted me to update Fields of Battle so badly you actually read this fic with no knowledge of the fandom, I must commend you. Many thanks. (BTW – you're right, Greg is a cutie). Thanks for reviewing, but unfortunately I don't know when there will be another chapter of Fields of Battle, it's exam time here at university.
Many thanks to all my reviewers, Aurora, starfish, Laveda, LXG-Gurl 121, A.H. Smith, FrodoLijactress, Sillie, HyperactiveForever (marshmallows J), snowbunny3, lamako, deathchamberX17, and higherbeingfriendsfan. You fill my heart with joy with all your kind words and send my fingers flying over the keyboard with more chapters. Anyway, catch ya later with more when the exam schedule allows.
