A lot of (necessary) exposition and fluff. Fairly light but important stuff. Drama in the chapter to come.
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Rachel rolled over and smiled contentedly, draping one arm across Ross' chest and stroking it. She closed her eyes and kissed his shoulder and neck, tasting the saltiness in the sweat that had accumulated on his skin during their lovemaking.
"Wow," she whispered through her smile. He kissed her forehead and wrapped a protective arm around her back.
"Wow is right."
"I feel like I should take a shower now," she confessed, lifting herself and crawling over him to get out of the bed. "Do you want to come with me?" She smiled mischievously and cocked an eyebrow. He watched her amble naked over to the connecting bathroom door and lean against the frame invitingly.
"As soon as I can move again," he joked.
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In the shower, he ran the bar of soap over her body and shampooed her hair for her. He watched the bubbly lather slide down her stomach and back and settle on the curves of her hips and breasts. She caught him staring and smiled timidly, swatting his chest lightheartedly. He took this act as a cue to play along, so he placed his hands on her waist and nibbled lightly on her ear, taking brakes in between to kiss her jaw or nose. She giggled as he did this, rubbing his back and swaying side to side with him. The moment was sweet and blithe. He loved doing things like this with her-- just playing and kissing and touching innocently.
He was glad things weren't tense between them after what had happened at Monica and Chandler's. He'd feared they would be, but with this window of normalcy and comfortable between them, he decided it might be an opportune time to mention that wintry ski retreat he was hoping to take with her.
"Hey, I have this idea..." he began, backing her against the tile wall of the shower. She smiled as he kept his neck lowered to kiss her ear, even as he was talking.
"What's that?"
"How would you like to get away for Christmas?" he asked. She pushed him away by the shoulders and looked at him unsurely but happily.
"Really!?" she exclaimed, her mouth turning upward into a huge smile. He nodded.
"Yeah, I was thinking about that Vermont resort Mon and Chandler went to last year."
"Oh, Ross, that sounds so great!" She literally bounced up and down, bracing herself against his shoulders.
"Can you do that again?" he joked, smiling and earning another swat on the chest.
"No, but seriously? Can we really go for Christmas?"
"Of course."
"I mean, I was excited about our first Christmas here, but with Monica and Chandler there, it could be so much fun!" she projected. He nodded in agreement. He was happy she'd received the suggestion so well. Against the snowy backdrop of a cozy ski resort, and with the help of a little Holiday cheer, the possibilities were endless. Maybe even finally the sounding of wedding bells...
She reached up and placed her hands behind his neck, bringing his head down for his lips to meet hers in a soft kiss. He tried to deepen it, opening his mouth and invading hers with his tongue, but she stopped him and shook her head.
"Hey, now, who's going to drive Emma to her Jamboree class in 30 minutes if we start that up?" she asked.
"I'll be quick," he offered, knowing it wouldn't work but promising anyway. He bit on her ear. He knew how much she loved that.
"I'm not falling for that one," she assured him, stroking his back in consolation and patting it a few times, but then pulling away. "Come on. I happen to know for a fact that you have a meeting at 10."
"Joykill," he accused, leaning his head against the shower in defeat as he watched her get out and dry off.
"Don't worry," she demanded, just before leaving the bathroom. "You'll get more than you can handle if we do end up in Vermont."
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Ross sauteed the assemblage of peppers and pasta in the skillet he was holding, shaking it to mix them and setting it back down on the range. That day had been a long one, but it was Friday and Christmas was only 3 days away. He, Rachel, and their daughter would be leaving for Vermont early the next morning for their first Christmas together as a real family. He was ecstatic.
"Mmm, hey," she purred into his ear, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his stomach. "What're we having?"
"Pasta. You want some?" he asked, holding the wooden spoon over his shoulder for her to taste the few strands of pasta.
"Well done," she approved, patting his stomach before walking away.
"Emma, sweety, dinner's almost ready!" she called, as she walked out into the living room to look up into her daughter's loft. She was sitting on her floor playing with toys.
"No thank you," the little girl yelled back, not breaking her concentration on the stuffed yellow piggy on her hands.
"No thank you, huh? Well how about no dessert either?" Rachel bartered, smiling because she knew this would work on her sugar-crazed child. She heard rustling above her as Emma put away her things.
"Okay, I'm ready," she announced, half-walking, half-crawling down the spiral stairway. The trap door jammies she was wearing her getting too small for her. They'd have to buy new ones soon, Rachel considered. She was growing up fast.
The bright eyed, brown haired girl waddled unstably over to her mommy, clinging to her leg, demanding to be picked up. Rachel bent and brought her into her arms, kissing the top of her head and brushing her hair with her hand.
"Oh, you're getting big. You want to come see Daddy?" she asked, carrying her over to Ross, who was still standing by the stove. He smiled and held out his arms as the toddler crawled eagerly into them.
"There's my princess! I missed you today when I was in my boring meeting," he confessed, kissing her cheek and swaying her from side-to-side.
"Are mommy and me more fun than your job?" she asked in the adorably honest way that only a child could.
"You and mommy are the MOST fun," he assured her, smiling widely at her totally unadulterated innocence. He glanced over at Rachel, who was standing beside them and watching the exchange. He smiled at her and reached down with his free hand to stroke her fingers with his. He couldn't believe how perfect his life finally was. After nearly 35 years, he was finally exactly where he was supposed to be. He had the two most gorgeous girls in the world to love and be loved by-- one of them a product of the love between himself and the other. Sometimes he wondered why marriage seemed like such a big step. After all, it was just a ceremony and a slip of paper. Neither of those things could make the ties between them any more real.
Ross placed his daughter in her high chair at the head of the table and sat down opposite Rachel. They ate and talked and laughed quietly, the terrace door open to let in the cool night breeze. A few times during the conversation, Ross would catch her eye across the table and smile at their daughter's affluent, addictive personality. She was so beautiful and intelligent and sociable-- the perfect combination of her parents' respective strong traits. Ross had always thought of Rachel as his human credential-- she was so lovely and charming that though he was not the most social of butterflies, the fact that SHE had chosen him defended him. Now, he marveled at his second little backer. Who would have thought that gawky, awkward high schooler would someday grow to become loved by these two stunning beauties?
"Can I have my dessert now?" Emma asked from her highchair, as Rachel cleared the dirty dishes.
"What would you like-- sherbet or a Popsicle?" Rachel asked, opening the freezer door.
"Popsicle!" the little girl squealed, slapping her hands against the tray of her highchair.
"Of course-- the messier of the two," she nodded, selecting a small cherry Popsicle from the box and opening it before handing it to Emma. She sat with her and watched her eat it (more like dribble and smear it across her face).
"All done!" she announced, licking her lips, completely oblivious to the sticky substance coated all over her. Rachel took a damp paper towel to her face while Ross laughed as he looked on.
"You're a mess," he observed, shaking his head and poising his hands on his hips. He checked his watch and was surprised when it read 8 o'clock. They'd had a late dinner. They'd be getting up exceptionally early the next morning, so Emma really should be put down right away. "Rach, why don't we get Emma ready for bed. It's already 8."
"I don't want to go to bed yet, Daddy!" she fiercely reproached, pouting her lips in a staggeringly precious way. "I want to stay up and play with you and Mommy!"
"Aw, I want you to play with us, too," he answered, picking her up out of her chair and whipping off her jumpsuit, "but you've got a big day tomorrow and you need your sleep."
"Are we going to the snow mountain?" she asked, suddenly excited and clapping her hands together.
"Yup! Santa's going to visit you there this year."
"How will he know I'm there?" she asked concernedly. Yet again, he was floored at his daughter's sharpness and inability to miss a beat.
"Santa knows everything," Ross assured, carrying her up the stairs and over to her crib, Rachel right behind him. He laid the little girl down and covered her up with the yellow blanket, smoothing her hair and patting her belly.
"We love you very much," Rachel whispered, leaning over and kissing their daughter's cheek. "We'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Okay," she yawned sleepily, already succumbing to slumber.
Ross and Rachel made their way back down to their room to finish off some last-minute packing for the next day's trip. As he watched her strip casually from her clothes into a white t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, he smiled at the comfort and familiarity of it. She didn't even think of him being present when she changed anymore, and it didn't have to be a sexually provocative act. It was sweet and soothing to him to know that they were that close-- to know that he could be that close to a woman. Even Carol had sometimes left the room to change clothes when they'd been married. It was a meaningless act to her, but he loved it. Around 11 p.m., they settled into bed.
"Emma's a hoot, huh?" he asked, turning off the bedside light.
"She really is," she agreed. "God, I just can't believe how fast she's growing! We're going to have to get her new clothes soon."
Ross would be lying if he said her comment didn't provoke the possibility of another child to grow into those clothes that Emma was growing out of, but he decided to bite his tongue. One prospective big step for them was all he thought they needed on their plate right now.
He scooted closer to her and nestled her in beside him, her head laying on his chest and her leg and arm tossed across him. He felt her kiss his chest and tickle his ribs lightly with her fingernails. He loved this time they had together. No other woman had ever made him feel this special or wanted. No other woman had ever laid so naturally and cozily with him. No other woman had ever treated him the way she did-- so gingerly and delicately. No other woman had ever babied him the way she did when she knew he needed it-- when he was sick, or tired from work, or after a particularly draining fight. He felt her hair tickle his face and reflected that no other woman had ever been as sexily, adorably, perfectly feminine as her-- had never had skin so smooth and tan, or hair so feathery, or lips so red and soft, or hands so dainty and nurturing. In the 20 years that he'd known and loved her, these things had changed, but never faded. The remnants of the original were all still there beneath the modern.
"Rach?" he whispered, knowing she wasn't asleep because her hand was massaging his side rhythmically and deliberately.
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever think about the old 'us'?" He knew this was an odd question to ask. Even he didn't know exactly what he meant by it.
"What do you mean?" she asked, obviously confused. She seemed almost anxious about the question.
"I mean, do you ever think back to 7 or 8 years ago? When we were so young and in love?" He hadn't meant for it to come out exactly like that, and he didn't even realize how badly she'd taken it until she pulled herself up and away to look down at him in confusion.
"We're not in love now?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically in that way only a woman could corner you into a mindless panic.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," he guaranteed her, putting his hand against her back to guide her down to him again. She hesitantly laid her head back on his chest. He stroked her arms in reassurance and continued. "I just mean...like, remember that time we had sex out on the couch when Monica was talking on the phone to Richard in her room?" He felt Rachel smile.
"Yeah..." she giggled.
"And the time we went away to Maine and called in sick for a week?"
"How can I forget? I almost got fired." They both chuckled for a moment in remembrance, but when the laughter subsided, they were left with the burn of a thick, dull blade against their hearts that served as a reminder of how far away that yesterday was.
"Doesn't that ever make you sad?" he asked.
"I guess it would if I ever thought about it," she answered. "I don't, really, though."
"I can't help it, sometimes," he confessed, shaking his head.
"There's no point, Ross," she scolded him, lifting herself up to look him in the eyes. "What about what we have now? Isn't that just as good?" She ran a consoling hand through his hair.
"Rach, you know I wouldn't trade anything in the world for what we have, now" he began, his voice low and seriously. "It just...it seemed so much simpler back then, you know? I mean, I love Emma, but she's a handful. And we're both at work all the time, and everyone's gone...it's just like...it's like we're not the same people. It's like we're a different Ross and Rachel." She smiled at the way he used their names together as one combined entity.
"Sweety..." she began, tracing his lips with her thumb and smiling knowingly, "...there's only one Ross and Rachel." He laughed aloud and nodded.
"I know, I know. Maybe I'm just being silly." He chalked it up to his own folly and kissed her nose, mouthing a simple "I love you" and "goodnight" before resting his own head against the pillow to sleep.
He hadn't mentioned it to her, but those memories of their previous life haunted him on a daily basis. He loved his life with her now, but something about the direction they were headed in seemed like an inevitable journey towards a brick wall. They seemed to be traveling further and faster away from the familiar and into unchartered water. If he were being totally honest, maybe that was another factor that scared him about a marriage to Rachel. It wouldn't be like with Carol or Emily. He hadn't spent the entirety of his youth building a comfortable history with them. He had nothing to compare them to-- not former identities.
Marriage seemed so final and so...adult. It seemed to seal the deal on the end of spontaneous weeks away from work and risque rendezvous in public places. It seemed to mark the end of their youth-- the end of their innocence together. And that scared him.
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End Chapter 4. Continued in Chapter 5.
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Rachel rolled over and smiled contentedly, draping one arm across Ross' chest and stroking it. She closed her eyes and kissed his shoulder and neck, tasting the saltiness in the sweat that had accumulated on his skin during their lovemaking.
"Wow," she whispered through her smile. He kissed her forehead and wrapped a protective arm around her back.
"Wow is right."
"I feel like I should take a shower now," she confessed, lifting herself and crawling over him to get out of the bed. "Do you want to come with me?" She smiled mischievously and cocked an eyebrow. He watched her amble naked over to the connecting bathroom door and lean against the frame invitingly.
"As soon as I can move again," he joked.
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In the shower, he ran the bar of soap over her body and shampooed her hair for her. He watched the bubbly lather slide down her stomach and back and settle on the curves of her hips and breasts. She caught him staring and smiled timidly, swatting his chest lightheartedly. He took this act as a cue to play along, so he placed his hands on her waist and nibbled lightly on her ear, taking brakes in between to kiss her jaw or nose. She giggled as he did this, rubbing his back and swaying side to side with him. The moment was sweet and blithe. He loved doing things like this with her-- just playing and kissing and touching innocently.
He was glad things weren't tense between them after what had happened at Monica and Chandler's. He'd feared they would be, but with this window of normalcy and comfortable between them, he decided it might be an opportune time to mention that wintry ski retreat he was hoping to take with her.
"Hey, I have this idea..." he began, backing her against the tile wall of the shower. She smiled as he kept his neck lowered to kiss her ear, even as he was talking.
"What's that?"
"How would you like to get away for Christmas?" he asked. She pushed him away by the shoulders and looked at him unsurely but happily.
"Really!?" she exclaimed, her mouth turning upward into a huge smile. He nodded.
"Yeah, I was thinking about that Vermont resort Mon and Chandler went to last year."
"Oh, Ross, that sounds so great!" She literally bounced up and down, bracing herself against his shoulders.
"Can you do that again?" he joked, smiling and earning another swat on the chest.
"No, but seriously? Can we really go for Christmas?"
"Of course."
"I mean, I was excited about our first Christmas here, but with Monica and Chandler there, it could be so much fun!" she projected. He nodded in agreement. He was happy she'd received the suggestion so well. Against the snowy backdrop of a cozy ski resort, and with the help of a little Holiday cheer, the possibilities were endless. Maybe even finally the sounding of wedding bells...
She reached up and placed her hands behind his neck, bringing his head down for his lips to meet hers in a soft kiss. He tried to deepen it, opening his mouth and invading hers with his tongue, but she stopped him and shook her head.
"Hey, now, who's going to drive Emma to her Jamboree class in 30 minutes if we start that up?" she asked.
"I'll be quick," he offered, knowing it wouldn't work but promising anyway. He bit on her ear. He knew how much she loved that.
"I'm not falling for that one," she assured him, stroking his back in consolation and patting it a few times, but then pulling away. "Come on. I happen to know for a fact that you have a meeting at 10."
"Joykill," he accused, leaning his head against the shower in defeat as he watched her get out and dry off.
"Don't worry," she demanded, just before leaving the bathroom. "You'll get more than you can handle if we do end up in Vermont."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ross sauteed the assemblage of peppers and pasta in the skillet he was holding, shaking it to mix them and setting it back down on the range. That day had been a long one, but it was Friday and Christmas was only 3 days away. He, Rachel, and their daughter would be leaving for Vermont early the next morning for their first Christmas together as a real family. He was ecstatic.
"Mmm, hey," she purred into his ear, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his stomach. "What're we having?"
"Pasta. You want some?" he asked, holding the wooden spoon over his shoulder for her to taste the few strands of pasta.
"Well done," she approved, patting his stomach before walking away.
"Emma, sweety, dinner's almost ready!" she called, as she walked out into the living room to look up into her daughter's loft. She was sitting on her floor playing with toys.
"No thank you," the little girl yelled back, not breaking her concentration on the stuffed yellow piggy on her hands.
"No thank you, huh? Well how about no dessert either?" Rachel bartered, smiling because she knew this would work on her sugar-crazed child. She heard rustling above her as Emma put away her things.
"Okay, I'm ready," she announced, half-walking, half-crawling down the spiral stairway. The trap door jammies she was wearing her getting too small for her. They'd have to buy new ones soon, Rachel considered. She was growing up fast.
The bright eyed, brown haired girl waddled unstably over to her mommy, clinging to her leg, demanding to be picked up. Rachel bent and brought her into her arms, kissing the top of her head and brushing her hair with her hand.
"Oh, you're getting big. You want to come see Daddy?" she asked, carrying her over to Ross, who was still standing by the stove. He smiled and held out his arms as the toddler crawled eagerly into them.
"There's my princess! I missed you today when I was in my boring meeting," he confessed, kissing her cheek and swaying her from side-to-side.
"Are mommy and me more fun than your job?" she asked in the adorably honest way that only a child could.
"You and mommy are the MOST fun," he assured her, smiling widely at her totally unadulterated innocence. He glanced over at Rachel, who was standing beside them and watching the exchange. He smiled at her and reached down with his free hand to stroke her fingers with his. He couldn't believe how perfect his life finally was. After nearly 35 years, he was finally exactly where he was supposed to be. He had the two most gorgeous girls in the world to love and be loved by-- one of them a product of the love between himself and the other. Sometimes he wondered why marriage seemed like such a big step. After all, it was just a ceremony and a slip of paper. Neither of those things could make the ties between them any more real.
Ross placed his daughter in her high chair at the head of the table and sat down opposite Rachel. They ate and talked and laughed quietly, the terrace door open to let in the cool night breeze. A few times during the conversation, Ross would catch her eye across the table and smile at their daughter's affluent, addictive personality. She was so beautiful and intelligent and sociable-- the perfect combination of her parents' respective strong traits. Ross had always thought of Rachel as his human credential-- she was so lovely and charming that though he was not the most social of butterflies, the fact that SHE had chosen him defended him. Now, he marveled at his second little backer. Who would have thought that gawky, awkward high schooler would someday grow to become loved by these two stunning beauties?
"Can I have my dessert now?" Emma asked from her highchair, as Rachel cleared the dirty dishes.
"What would you like-- sherbet or a Popsicle?" Rachel asked, opening the freezer door.
"Popsicle!" the little girl squealed, slapping her hands against the tray of her highchair.
"Of course-- the messier of the two," she nodded, selecting a small cherry Popsicle from the box and opening it before handing it to Emma. She sat with her and watched her eat it (more like dribble and smear it across her face).
"All done!" she announced, licking her lips, completely oblivious to the sticky substance coated all over her. Rachel took a damp paper towel to her face while Ross laughed as he looked on.
"You're a mess," he observed, shaking his head and poising his hands on his hips. He checked his watch and was surprised when it read 8 o'clock. They'd had a late dinner. They'd be getting up exceptionally early the next morning, so Emma really should be put down right away. "Rach, why don't we get Emma ready for bed. It's already 8."
"I don't want to go to bed yet, Daddy!" she fiercely reproached, pouting her lips in a staggeringly precious way. "I want to stay up and play with you and Mommy!"
"Aw, I want you to play with us, too," he answered, picking her up out of her chair and whipping off her jumpsuit, "but you've got a big day tomorrow and you need your sleep."
"Are we going to the snow mountain?" she asked, suddenly excited and clapping her hands together.
"Yup! Santa's going to visit you there this year."
"How will he know I'm there?" she asked concernedly. Yet again, he was floored at his daughter's sharpness and inability to miss a beat.
"Santa knows everything," Ross assured, carrying her up the stairs and over to her crib, Rachel right behind him. He laid the little girl down and covered her up with the yellow blanket, smoothing her hair and patting her belly.
"We love you very much," Rachel whispered, leaning over and kissing their daughter's cheek. "We'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Okay," she yawned sleepily, already succumbing to slumber.
Ross and Rachel made their way back down to their room to finish off some last-minute packing for the next day's trip. As he watched her strip casually from her clothes into a white t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, he smiled at the comfort and familiarity of it. She didn't even think of him being present when she changed anymore, and it didn't have to be a sexually provocative act. It was sweet and soothing to him to know that they were that close-- to know that he could be that close to a woman. Even Carol had sometimes left the room to change clothes when they'd been married. It was a meaningless act to her, but he loved it. Around 11 p.m., they settled into bed.
"Emma's a hoot, huh?" he asked, turning off the bedside light.
"She really is," she agreed. "God, I just can't believe how fast she's growing! We're going to have to get her new clothes soon."
Ross would be lying if he said her comment didn't provoke the possibility of another child to grow into those clothes that Emma was growing out of, but he decided to bite his tongue. One prospective big step for them was all he thought they needed on their plate right now.
He scooted closer to her and nestled her in beside him, her head laying on his chest and her leg and arm tossed across him. He felt her kiss his chest and tickle his ribs lightly with her fingernails. He loved this time they had together. No other woman had ever made him feel this special or wanted. No other woman had ever laid so naturally and cozily with him. No other woman had ever treated him the way she did-- so gingerly and delicately. No other woman had ever babied him the way she did when she knew he needed it-- when he was sick, or tired from work, or after a particularly draining fight. He felt her hair tickle his face and reflected that no other woman had ever been as sexily, adorably, perfectly feminine as her-- had never had skin so smooth and tan, or hair so feathery, or lips so red and soft, or hands so dainty and nurturing. In the 20 years that he'd known and loved her, these things had changed, but never faded. The remnants of the original were all still there beneath the modern.
"Rach?" he whispered, knowing she wasn't asleep because her hand was massaging his side rhythmically and deliberately.
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever think about the old 'us'?" He knew this was an odd question to ask. Even he didn't know exactly what he meant by it.
"What do you mean?" she asked, obviously confused. She seemed almost anxious about the question.
"I mean, do you ever think back to 7 or 8 years ago? When we were so young and in love?" He hadn't meant for it to come out exactly like that, and he didn't even realize how badly she'd taken it until she pulled herself up and away to look down at him in confusion.
"We're not in love now?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically in that way only a woman could corner you into a mindless panic.
"No, no, that's not what I meant," he guaranteed her, putting his hand against her back to guide her down to him again. She hesitantly laid her head back on his chest. He stroked her arms in reassurance and continued. "I just mean...like, remember that time we had sex out on the couch when Monica was talking on the phone to Richard in her room?" He felt Rachel smile.
"Yeah..." she giggled.
"And the time we went away to Maine and called in sick for a week?"
"How can I forget? I almost got fired." They both chuckled for a moment in remembrance, but when the laughter subsided, they were left with the burn of a thick, dull blade against their hearts that served as a reminder of how far away that yesterday was.
"Doesn't that ever make you sad?" he asked.
"I guess it would if I ever thought about it," she answered. "I don't, really, though."
"I can't help it, sometimes," he confessed, shaking his head.
"There's no point, Ross," she scolded him, lifting herself up to look him in the eyes. "What about what we have now? Isn't that just as good?" She ran a consoling hand through his hair.
"Rach, you know I wouldn't trade anything in the world for what we have, now" he began, his voice low and seriously. "It just...it seemed so much simpler back then, you know? I mean, I love Emma, but she's a handful. And we're both at work all the time, and everyone's gone...it's just like...it's like we're not the same people. It's like we're a different Ross and Rachel." She smiled at the way he used their names together as one combined entity.
"Sweety..." she began, tracing his lips with her thumb and smiling knowingly, "...there's only one Ross and Rachel." He laughed aloud and nodded.
"I know, I know. Maybe I'm just being silly." He chalked it up to his own folly and kissed her nose, mouthing a simple "I love you" and "goodnight" before resting his own head against the pillow to sleep.
He hadn't mentioned it to her, but those memories of their previous life haunted him on a daily basis. He loved his life with her now, but something about the direction they were headed in seemed like an inevitable journey towards a brick wall. They seemed to be traveling further and faster away from the familiar and into unchartered water. If he were being totally honest, maybe that was another factor that scared him about a marriage to Rachel. It wouldn't be like with Carol or Emily. He hadn't spent the entirety of his youth building a comfortable history with them. He had nothing to compare them to-- not former identities.
Marriage seemed so final and so...adult. It seemed to seal the deal on the end of spontaneous weeks away from work and risque rendezvous in public places. It seemed to mark the end of their youth-- the end of their innocence together. And that scared him.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
End Chapter 4. Continued in Chapter 5.