Well, 'tis the night of March the fifth, just after I've posted The Game. I feel…empowered. I think I might be able to actually crank out something really decent this chapter. I hope. :) Let's see what happens, shall we? Ah…no more crazy math to work out that countdown. :Takes a deep breath of free air: So nice.

Disclaimer: LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAA :Sticks fingers in ears: I can't hear you! Who says I have to disclaim anything? Oh, right. Those people that actually own the show. Darn it. Oh, don't own Skittles or Starbursts or Mars bars or Milky Ways or Snickers either, and that's probably a good thing, because I eat way too much of that stuff already. Or Aquafina either! Wow, lots of brand names in this chapter.

Dedication: To a special friend who definitely needs the pick-me-up. She knows who she is. I hope your week looks up, honey. Here's to you.

Chapter 5: Climbing

Charlie paced the worn linoleum tiles of the hospital's waiting room, hands clutched behind his back. To occupy his mind, he mentally calculated the price of the candy in the glass-fronted vending machine across the lobby. Eight bags of Skittles at 0.75 a pack makes six dollars, and eleven packages of Starburst at 0.65 is 7.15…wow, this stuff is really overpriced.

He glanced around again, sharp dark eyes taking in everything in the room. His father had promised to be at the hospital "in just a minute", but already ten minutes had passed. Where is he? He went back to his math, Mars bars…4 of them at 0.75 is three bucks, 4 Milky Ways would be 3.00 too, and 9 Snickers bars at 75 cents is 6.75, so altogether, that row is at—

"Charlie!" The voice was urgent, fearful, and almost desperate.

"Dad!" He crossed the room in five strides, and his father embraced him.

"Don?" He asked into his son's hair.

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything since they took him away. He looked…looked pretty messed up, Dad."

His father's arms tightened around him, "He'll be alright, Charlie. He's strong, our Don. He wouldn't let someone break him like that. Don't worry." Alan's voice sounded sure, but Charlie could hear the underlying uncertainty.

"I know, Dad." He assured his father, then pulled away and led Alan by the elbow to a row of bright blue plastic chairs. "Sit down, you look pretty pale. You want something to drink?"

"Uh…sure, that would be good. Just water, please." He reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Charlie waved him away.

"I've got it, Dad." He hurried across the lobby to feed a dollar bill and a quarter into the Aquafina machine. He pushed the button, and a cold bottle dropped into the slot. He carried it back to his father and twisted the cap off.

Alan took a long pull and then sat back, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. "I'm getting too old for you boys to be pulling stunts like this."

A small smile tugged at the edges of Charlie's lips. "I didn't do anything this time!"

One dark eye cracked open. "I hear you went into a bomb-ridden house after your brother."

A sheepish look crossed the younger man's exhausted face. "I wanted to be there to help. I had to. You know that."

"I know, and nothing makes me more proud than the way you were willing to put your life on the line for him." Alan confessed. "You were absolutely amazing, Charlie. I hope you know that."

Charlie's slight smile faded. "I had a lot of help, Dad. It's all a blur now. I don't know how I did it. I really didn't think I was going to be able to. The last two days…they were like losing Mom all over again. Only worse, actually, I think. Mom, at least, I had some time to get used to the idea. I didn't do a very good job, but at least I got it. With Don…it was like…one moment he was there and the next he was gone, and I might not ever get to see him again." Moisture danced in his eyes, but he refused to let it gather. He tipped his head back, studying the criss-cross pattern of cut plastic covering the fluorescent lights over his head. The light helped to disperse his tears.

Alan nodded, understanding. He reached out and patted Charlie's hand, which was hanging limply at his side. Then he caught his son's hand and gently tugged on it, pulling Charlie down into the chair beside him. "Relax. You've done all you can; you've done your job. Now you have to trust the doctors to do theirs." He was forcing calmness, hoping to still his son's fears while his own raged. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do an whole host of other unmanly things, but he forced his temper farther down. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around Charlie's shoulders, and he was surprised when Charlie fell into the embrace and rested his head on his father's shoulder. Charlie had never been very good at emotional contact, but, Alan reminded himself, he was still completely human, a hurt and worried brother in desperate need of comfort.

Within minutes, Charlie was fast asleep, and though Alan's shoulder and arm were beginning to fall asleep as well, he didn't move them. Instead, he strained for a magazine on the end table and opened it, pretending to read an article on hummingbirds.

An hour later, Alan had read exactly four words, lost all feeling in his arm, and was really beginning to reach the end of his rope when the lobby doors opened, and Terry and David, both looking uncharacteristically unkempt and both looking as though they were falling asleep on their feet. Alan held a finger to his lips and nodded at his youngest.

Terry smiled affectionately down at Charlie, and David dropped into a chair beside Alan, "Any news?" He whispered.

Alan snorted softly. "Of course not. They love to leave you hanging in places like this. They get a kick out of it, you know."

Terry and David exchanged a small smile, and then Terry pushed her hands into her back pockets, palms out, and rocked back on her heels. "I thought you'd like to know that we found Don's cell phone."

"You did? Where?"

"We traced the signal to a house across the street from where we found him. This was with it. Does it make any sense to you?" Terry opened the folder she'd brought and handed Alan a large plastic evidence bag. Inside was an incredibly well-drawn pencil drawing of a boy, about eight or nine, and a baby. On the back was written, You've won. Just don't think that the game is completely over yet.

Alan shrugged, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the inscription. "No idea." He said, handing it back to her.

The glass doors whooshed open again, and four people blazed through them. Terry recognized one at Alexei Trent, Chrissie's roommate, but the other three were unfamiliar, a young man in his late twenties and an older couple, a heavyset woman and a small, bald, wiry man. The woman was leaning heavily on her husband, tears careening freely down her cheeks.

"Sorry, we got a little lost on the way here." Alexei explained with a glare in the younger man's direction. "Agent Lake, Agent Sinclair, this is Donna, Mark, and Johnnie Baxter, Chrissie's parents and brother." Alexei said formally, gesturing first to the couple and then to the younger man. They studied the four for a moment before the woman broke free of her husband's arm and raced toward Terry, who took a surprised step back.

She wasn't fast enough, however, and in an instant, she was wrapped in an embrace tight enough to press the air from her lungs. "You are the ones that found my Chrissie?" She sobbed into Terry's hair.

"We had a lot of help, ma'am." David answered for Terry, seeing as his partner's face was pushed into the woman's enormous shoulder.

Donna released Terry and squeezed David, who was still seated next to Alan, still blubbering incoherently. David awkwardly patted her back and gave Terry a help-me glance, which she countered with a what-do-you-want-me-to-do shrug.

Mark was slightly more rational than his wife, and he stepped forward to wring one of Terry's hands in both of his, "Thank you so much. How could we ever repay you?"

Terry grinned at him, relieved that he seemed content to keep his distance from her personal space. "Your thanks is more than enough compensation, sir." She replied professionally, running a dusty hand through her untidy hair.

Mark Baxter moved on to rescue David from his wife's clutches, and Johnnie replaced him, thanking her softly and sincerely. She smiled at him and he moved on as well.

Johnnie collapsed into the chair next to Charlie. "No news on her condition?" He asked Alan warmly.

"Nothing. Charlie here came in on the ambulance, watched the doctors take them away, and has been waiting here since. That was about an hour and a half ago."

Johnnie nodded and leaned back in the chair. "So we wait."

Alan nodded. "We wait."

And they did. Across from David, Alan, Charlie (who slept on, despite the noticeable increase in noise), and Johnnie sat Terry, Donna and Mark, and Alexei. The group waited in silence. Though several of them had picked up magazines and were flipping through them mindlessly, it was obvious that nothing was holding their attention.

It was nearly another two hours before a solemn-faced doctor emerged through the swinging doors between the vending machines across the room. Alan gently woke his youngest son, glad to have the circulation flowing freely to his arm once more. "Doctor's here." He told the disoriented young man.

Charlie nodded, rested his elbows on his knees, and ran his fingers thorough his hopelessly tangled curls. The doctor drew to a stop before them and slowly stripped off his rubber gloves like some unhinged TV doctor. "Hey there. I'm Doctor Coursen, and I have good news for you." He said, and Charlie's head snapped up.

"Both Agent Eppes and Chrissie should be fine. Chrissie had some swelling in her right wrist, we've taken X-rays. We're not sure what he drugged them with, but whatever it was was very powerful. Probably knocked them both out in seconds. When Chrissie wakes up, she should be fine, I believe. We'll want to keep her here for a couple of days for observation." Donna let out a sob of relief and collapsed against her husband.

Now Doctor Coursen turned to Alan and Charlie. "You are Agent Eppes's father, correct?"

"I am." Alan rose and shook the man's hand.

"You should be mighty proud of your son, sir. He's suffered quite a concussion, a badly broken arm, both the ulna and the radius, and his right ankle is definitely broken; I believe the left one is just a sprain, though. Won't know until we get the X-rays back, of course. Came through like a trooper, though. It looks like he put up one hell of a fight." He chuckled, Alan allowed his first true smile to burst forth, and Charlie's entire body sagged with relief.

"That sounds like my Donnie. I am proud of him, Doctor. I'm proud of both of them." He smiled down at his younger son.

"I am a bit concerned about the drug and how it will react to his concussion. We won't know for sure until he wakes up, so I don't want to do any surgery on his arm or ankle until then. We can't give him any painkillers until then either, so he'll probably be in some pain when he wakes up."

"Can we see them?" Alan and Donna asked at the same time.

"I don't see why not." The doctor shrugged, rewarding them with a smile. "Follow me." He led them down the pale, lifeless halls of the hospital. "We've moved them out of the ICU already; didn't see the point of making them stay when all we're doing is waiting for them to wake up. There'll be a doctor in the room at all times until they do, though. Ah, here's Miss Baxter's room."

He stopped and pushed open a pink door, revealing a brightly-lit room. The sleeping girl lay in a bed in the center, hooked to several machines. "She was slightly dehydrated, so we've got her on an IV and when she wakes, make sure she drinks as much as she can." He directed this last statement at an elderly female doctor with a cloud of puffy white curls pulled up on top of her head, who was sitting in a pink-and-turquoise-flowered-chair and reading a romance novel. She nodded at him and went back to the book.

Terry, David, Alan, and Charlie followed Dr. Coursen down the hall once more, the unnatural silence of the hospital building to a crescendo around them. When he finally stopped and laid a hand on the doorknob, he turned to Alan. "I have to warn you, Mr. Eppes, he looks a lot worse than he is. He has some deep bruising on his face, but no facial fractures. I assure you, he should be fine." With that, he opened the door and stepped aside.

"Oh, Lord…" Alan breathed, edging slowly into the room. He moved slowly to his son's side, slowly taking in the spectrum of colors that marked Don's normally-handsome face. Both cheeks were a rainbow of purples, greens, and yellows. His chin was equally bruised and his bottom lip was caked with dried blood and swollen to nearly twice its usual size. A breathing tube had been inserted, though Dr. Coursen assured him softly that it was just a precaution, and that Don was breathing fine on his own.

Alan didn't seem to have heard him. The kindly doctor that had been standing with Don brought Alan a chair, and he sank into it with a distracted, "thank you". He reached across the sheets and gently laid a hand on Don's, glancing up at the doctor, as if for permission.

Dr. Coursen nodded. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He said softly, then excused himself, closing the door with an echoing click behind him.

Charlie hesitantly rested a hand on his father's shoulder. "Remember what you said, Dad. He's strong, he'll be fine."

David caught Terry's arm gently beneath the elbow and tipped his head in the direction of the door. She nodded.

"Listen, we don't all need to be here. Charlie has my cell phone number, would you give us a call when he wakes up?"

Alan didn't seem to hear her, so Charlie nodded. "I will. Take care."

She nodded, then leaned over to David. After a quick, whispered discussion, she turned back to Charlie. "We'll be back in a few hours so you and Mr. Eppes can get some sleep. We'll stay with Don then."

"Okay." He replied, and they slipped out, leaving the small family alone. Alan was gently running his thumb back and forth over the unbruised knuckles of Don's right hand. My God, Donny, what happened to you?

"Doesn't even look like him, does it?" He asked softly. It was so unusual to see him so melancholy that Charlie didn't quite know how to answer.

"Do you know what he told me a few weeks ago?" Alan went on, and Charlie was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to answer this question either, "He told me that he'd seriously been thinking about leaving the Bureau, that he knew how hard it was on us. But I'm glad he decided to stay. I really am. Because I know that he couldn't ever be happy doing anything else. He was meant to do things like this, Charlie. Meant to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. And he does a heck of a job of it. I'd never want him to do anything else. He's doing just what he was supposed to do, and I would never want it any other way…even if it means a thousand moments just like this one. I couldn't be prouder."

And Charlie silently agreed.

Terry had no sooner gotten a shower, dried her hair, pulled on an oversized tee shirt and a pair of Garfield pajama pants, and slid between the sheets of the hotel bed when her cell phone rang. She groaned, but flipped it open eagerly when she saw Charlie's name on the ID window. "Hey there, Charlie. What's the news?"

"Hi, Terry. Just wanted to let you know that Chrissie is awake. She's very disoriented and pretty nauseated. They think it's from whatever he drugged her with. She'll be fine, though." Charlie's voice was exhausted and apologetic.

"Great." Terry told him enthusiastically. "Are they releasing her yet?"

"No, they're going to keep her for a few days. You'll be able to interview her later." Charlie, of course, knew exactly where her train of thought had been headed. She was relieved to hear that the interview could wait, exactly as he knew she'd be.

"'Kay. Thanks, Charlie."

"No problem. I'll call you in a few hours."

"Okay. Talk to you then."

"Bye."

"Bye."

She hung up and slid down between the covers. It would waste nearly an hour of her precious time before her overburdened conscience would allow her to fall into a very fitful and restless sleep.

By the time Terry and David arrived again in Don's room, Charlie had fallen asleep once more, curled up in the armchair next to his brother's bed. The on-duty doctor sat silently in the corner, a notebook computer open on his lap. There was no sign of Alan.

David gently shook the young consultant. "Hey, Charlie. Where's your dad?" He asked when the man's eyes opened.

"Went to get something to eat." Charlie's dark eyes slid immediately to the bed, gauging Don's condition. Satisfied that nothing had changed, he rose again and stretched. "I think he left about twenty minutes ago." He said, checking his sportswatch.

The agents exchanged slightly worried glances, but Charlie was quick to reassure them, "Doctor Coursen came back and offered to go with him."

"Oh, that was nice of him." Terry said, feeling relieved.

He agreed, then studied the pair critically. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances." David replied, and Terry nodded her agreement.

"Great." He took a seat on the edge of his brother's bed. He leaned over Don to rearrange the blankets over his prone form. "As soon as Dad gets back , I'll try to drag him back to the hotel. He needs sleep."

"So do you." David pointed out gently.

Before Charlie could argue, the door opened and Alan stepped back into the room. He greeted the crowd with a wan smile. "How is he?"

"About the same." Charlie said softly.

Alan sighed and leaned against the foot of the bed. After a moment's pause, Charlie rose. "Come on, Dad. Let's go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Terry and David will stay with Donnie."

"But…" Alan knew that Charlie had a point, but that didn't make him want to tear himself away from his son's bedside any less.

Terry patted his shoulder gently. "Go ahead, Mr. Eppes. We'll be right here. I promise, and we'll call the second something changes." When he still didn't look convinced, she repeated, "I promise!"

"I know you will." He finally nodded, "Come on, Charlie. Let's go before I change my mind." As he passed, he leaned down to Terry and whispered, "Take good care of him, Terry. He needs you now."

"Coming." Charlie studied his brother one last time, gave Terry and David a final grateful smile, and followed his father out, latching the door quietly behind them.

Terry sighed and sank into the chair Charlie had vacated. She gazed at Don's limp form. She'd never seen him so vulnerable. It made her heart tighten.

David rested a hand on her shoulder. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to go down the hall to get Chrissie's statements. You'll be okay?"

"Fine." She nodded. "Thanks, David."

"Any time." With that, he was gone.

The doctor in the corner had slipped on a pair of headphones, effectively drowning out the sound of their conversation. Terry couldn't tell whether the gesture was borne out of respect or irritation. From across the room, however, a familiar country song, slightly muffled but still recognizable, reached her ears. Rascal Flatt's "Blessed the Broken Road." She knew that one.

She tenderly reached out to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Seeing him like this brought out her protective side, she decided. She mouthed the words that floated to her, "Every long-lost dream led me to where you are/ Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars…"

The doctor peeled off the phones. "Am I bothering you, Miss?" He asked.

She smiled, but the smile was aimed at Don. She blinked furiously, battling the wave of fresh tears. "No, I'm just fine." The doctor shrugged and returned to his music.

She carefully…hesitantly…placed her hand over his, closing her fingers gently around his lukewarm digits.

She thought she felt his fingers close around hers, too, but she couldn't be sure, and when she looked back at his face, it showed no change. A memory, long buried but not forgotten, rose in her mind….

She strolled contentedly, her arm looped lazily through his, "Where are we going, Don?" She asked, squinting through the blindfold that hindered her vision. He chucked, and the sound warmed her through. "And how come I can't see?"

"You'll find out. You're going to love it." He replied mysteriously. "Just relax and enjoy it, Terry."

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a clap of thunder and the first fat drops of rain interrupted her enjoyable haze. She yelped as the first icy drops touched her exposed skin. "Don?"

He cursed, pulled her blindfold off, and grabbed her hand, "Hurry! It's going to rain!" He exclaimed, tugging on her hand.

Unfortunately, she had opted to dress up…her tall heels impeded her progress and the rain had begun pouring. By the time they broke out of the park that Don had led her into, her maroon silk blouse was glued to her skin, her hair plastered to her head, and little rivers of water were running from the beading on her knee-length black skirt. As they stepped off the curb, she tripped, landing hard on her hands and knees. Don rushed back and scooped her up, carrying her as though she were no more than a child. He hurried to the first lighted public building he could see, struggled with the door, and burst inside, setting her down carefully. She laughed giddily.

"ALaundromat?" She asked around peals of laughter.

"Well, it's not what I had planned." He looked so disappointed that she looped an arm through his again, squeezing it to reassure him.

"Hey, Don, don't worry. It's alright." She released him and hopped up on a deserted dryer. The Laundromat was empty. No one does their laundry on a Saturday night, she supposed.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. I bet you're still hungry. How's pizza sound?" He asked, pulling out his cell phone.

"Perfect." She replied with a grin. When he'd ordered (pepperoni, her favorite), he hopped up beside her. For a few minutes, they shared a companionable silence.

"It's alright, you know." She finally broke it softly.

He turned to her and watched as she unbuckled her shoes and let them fall—"Thud!" "Thud!"—to the concrete floor. "Sorry?" He asked, confused.

Her task finished, she turned to him, crossing her legs Indian-style and arranging her skirt demurely over them. "This." She gestured to the room around them. "This is…nice, just is. No one to interrupt, nothing to bother us. I'm enjoying it."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah, I guess so, but…Terry, you're bleeding!"

She glanced down at her hands in shock. "I guess I am." Her palms must have been scraped when she fell. Long abrasions led from the heels of her hands to the base of her fingers, slowly oozing droplets of blood.

"Here." He caught her palms and held them up to the light, gently dabbing them with a tissue he'd pulled from his pocket. She gasped slightly when the rough tissue brushed her fiery palms. "I'm sorry…" He said softly, gently pressing away the blood. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, probably to apologize again, but the words died in his throat when their gazes met. He leaned forward at the same time she did and they met in the middle, a kiss as gentle and sought after as any she'd ever imagined.

"That was my favorite date ever, you know. Ours, our first." She whispered, leaning down to him. "I know you weren't pleased with the outcome, Don, but…but I think that's the night I fell in love with you." The tears were flowing again, coursing down her cheeks to drip on his. "And I don't think I ever stopped."

In a movie, this would be when he opened his eyes, completely healed, and swept her off her feet to ride away into the sunset. Yeah, right. She snorted to herself. Only in the movies.

So, when she looked down a split second later and his eyes were open, she nearly tipped the chair over in her shock. By the time she'd righted herself and slowed her heart rate to somewhere between catastrophic and normal, the on-duty doctor had noticed the change in Don's level of consciousness and was at his side, busily taking his pulse and blood pressure and monitoring anything else he could find to do. As he held Don's wrist in his hand, taking his pulse, he glanced over at Terry with a smile that could be described only as flirtatious. "Are you okay? Had quite a scare, didn't you?"

She nodded, avoiding his eyes by studying her friend and colleague worriedly. Don's eyes were resting on her, and in his eyes, she could see a number of emotions. She leaned over to speak to him, "David is down the hall with Chrissie. She's fine. Charlie and your dad left about a half-hour ago to get some sleep. They were both a mess. Everyone's worried sick about you. My cell phone's been ringing like crazy; seems like everyone in the Bureau wants to know how you're doing."

He smiled faintly, then whispered, "Are you crying?"

In all the excitement, she'd forgotten her whispered confession, though she was relieved that he didn't seem to have heard any of it. She wiped the drying traces of tears from her cheeks, "Nah, not any more. Just overly tired. Don't worry about me." She wanted to run her fingers through his hair or kiss one of the unbruised patches of his cheeks, but she refrained.

The doctor straightened. "He should be fine now. I'm going to take him down to surgery in a few minutes. How are you doing, Agent?"

"Been better." Don said hoarsely, but a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He shifted slightly and was rewarded with a few thousand tiny pinpricks of pain playing tug-of-war with his back, arm, and sore shoulders. He winced slightly, but smiled bravely. "I'm gonna be fine. Call Charlie and Dad." He requested as one of the two doctors that had just entered the room began a morphine drip for him. In a few moments, he'd been loaded onto a stretcher and whisked out the door with one last comforting glance over his shoulder. When he was gone, she finally realized the irony of the situation…him comforting her when he was the one that needed it. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed,

"Hey, Charlie." She said when he answered. "I've got some great news for you…"

"What is it?" He asked eagerly.

"He's awake. They took him down to surgery….they're going to repair his arm and set his ankle, check his concussion, but he's awake and should be back in an hour or two."

"That's great, Terry! Dad! Hey, DAD! We'll be right there. DAD, come on! Terry called; Don's awake! Hurry! Bye, Terry!" He said distractedly.

"Bye!" She chuckled, hanging up. She grinned to herself and set off down the hall to share her news with David and Chrissie.

TBC…

Okay, slight change made from what I'd previously had in mind. I had some bad news from one of my friends this week (hence chapter dedication), so I specifically put the Rascal Flatts reference in there for her to cheer her up some…it happens to be her favorite song. So that's where the whole confession/first date flashback thing came from. Ah, well, the mush. You know. Tends to jump out there.

This has actually been shortened. It was originally (just the story, mind you, not even all the author's notes and the review replies) close to 20 pages on Word, so I decided to cut it and save some of the stuff for later. This was a much more fluffy chapter than it was supposed to be. Next one, it takes a turn for the worse. :Scary music plays in background:

Review replies!

Belligerent-road-pylon:Laughs uproariously: Yes, I got the joke. He certainly does have a fabulous butt, doesn't he? Mmm….I'm glad you liked Chapter 4, because it was the DEVIL to write. Seriously. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, though it wasn't nearly as long as I made you wait last time. :Hides in shame.: Thanks for the review!

Nanz: Thanks! And sap is just great, isn't it? I love to write it.

Kimmilein: Hee hee…car rides are evil. Nope, no long-term effects except for some permanently-damaged brain waves from too many hours of Barney music…darn cousins. They'll be the death of me someday. I just know it. :Blushes: Awe, I'm so glad you liked it. The Game was by far the most difficult chapter to write. By the end I was ready to just chuck the whole thing. But it was worth it to see that you enjoyed it. :) Actually, I had a friend write the door riddle for me. I'm not too hot at that stuff...then I added Charlie's reactions to it and she helped me tweak it around. SO…thank her for all that good stuff. The Don and Charlie moments were my favorite part to write of that entire chapter. It was so fun to write. Wow, your reviews are just wonderful. You make ME want to cry! Don't worry, more angsty-filled stuff and eventually some fluff are on the horizon!

Chrissie8: Wow, you make me blush too! Thanks so much for your nice review!

Lour: I know that this wasn't really a "talk", but maybe you'll get some more of that stuff later….:whistles innocently: Hopefully this will tide you over for a while.

XxBandGeekxX: I'm so glad that you like it! Your review made me grin like crazy. Thanks!

Chibi Chongo: I'm glad I could make you happy. Having you read my story made me very happy. I love to know that people like it!

Jill: Hey, that's my cousin's name! Just thought I'd burst out with a random moment there. I hope you didn't need too many tissues on this chapter. It got pretty sappy and angsty there for a while…I hope it wasn't too bad. Yeah, I know logic puzzles suck. You think solving them is bad, you should try writing them. I finally had to give up and make one of my super-smart friends do it for me. :) I'm a cheater! Hope you enjoyed this one as well.

Teyla Sheppard: Yup yup, shame on me again. :LOL: Just you wait until next chapter! Ha, you think this cliffhanger is bad…Oops, did I just give something away again? Darnit, I am SO firing that muse! "Speed Demon" is what my mom calls me every time I drive, and for some reason it just fit David. Hee hee…don't David and Terry just seem like a big brother/little sister to you? (Actually, I have no idea which is older, but…you know!) Nothing happens to Chrissie? Well…:coughcough: Almost let something else slip there! Oh, no, hold on for the ride! We've only just begun.

strangexbutxtrue: Oh, I'm so glad you liked it. I fretted and fretted over that phone scene. Originally, I was going to have chrissie and Don in abandoned cars in a junkyard with a one-hour-to-find-them-before-they-blow-up drama deal (yeah, I like things blowing up…only in my stories though!), but I just didn't like it. Besides, this way worked much better with the phone call. :) I'm really glad it turned out OK. Thanks for all your help, and you're more than welcome to make suggestions any time! ;)

Mliss: Thanks for the encouragement, and don't you worry about that Don/Terry ending. It'll all be taken care of, one way or the other. :)

Okay, next chapter, because it didn't make the cut due to circumstances beyond my control :coughdarnmusecough: More Don/Terry fluff, a very emotional reunion (heh heh…) and that stupid twist I've been trying to work back into my plot for AGES. Don't worry, it's on the way. Thank you all SO much again!