Oh. My. God! SOOOOOO many reviews! And yeah, I replied to them all! Ha!

Wow, this whole reply thing is not leaving with anything to ramble about. Odd….well, I guess I'll just spare you all and start the chap then, hu?

Oh wait! I found something to ramble about! 50 chaps guys! Yeah, that's right, count 'em. 50! Yeah! Go us! Whoot, whoot! Raise the roof! Okz, I'm done now…

Oh! And peoples, before I forget: please log in so I can reply to your reviews. You take the time to answer me so I should answer you. I think it makes perfect sense even though I am typing 6+ pages here.

Oh and I'm going to warn you all now, this is a what I like to call "a fleshing out-sorta" chapter. So if you don't like characters to have depth and a few insecurities they feel they need to clear up, you might want to skip a bit of this chap and straight to the fluffiness. But I highly recommend reading the whole thing aka you better! Lol, but seriously, read it. and i figured i had better get this up soon before you all mauled me into it.

May 12, Thursday, after practice

"What if I refused to go to practice?"

"I would kick you off the team."

"What if we all refused to go to practice?"

"I would kick you all off the team."

"And play in the final match with a reserve team you don't even have?"

"Yes."

"Not likely."

"JUST GET TO THE PITCH, YOU LOT!"

Way to ruin our fun Oliver. Just make us go to practice why don't you? Uh, yeah, he just did. So with heavy hearts and even heavier feet (makes us get there as late as possible) we headed towards the pitch.

"Oliver?"

Nothing.

"Oliver Wood?"

Still nothing.

"OLIVER WOOD!"

He couldn't ignore me forever.

"DON'T MAKE ME USE YOUR MIDDLE NAME!"

"What Kat?" he asked, flying next to me. "And you wouldn't."

"Don't bet on it," I started. "And exactly how do you want us to this play?" I asked, my thumb pointing to Ange and 'Lic behind me, looking over the play sheet he had given us, trying to make heads or tails of it.

"The way it's written," he said, both eyebrows raised, giving me the not-helping-the-blonde-stereotype look again.

I grabbed the sheet from them, "Which is how, exactly?" I waved it in front of his face, ignoring the look he was giving me. "Now, I'm sure it's brilliant but we can't understand your hand writing or your little drawings on how it's supposed to look."

"Follow the red circles," he said, "Those are you guys."

I took a second look at it. Well, more like a fifth-hundredth look at it. And sure enough, amidst the many lines and quickly-written-in-familiar-messy-handwriting were three red circles.

"Damn you Oliver Wood," I said, not even half heartedly. "But I still don't get how we're supposed to do this."

"Here," Oliver said, Ange and 'Lic coming over, "I'll explain it."

Do you see how much easier it is to explain things nicely Oliver? It really makes a world of difference. Then we were actually able to run the play with less difficulty. Now only if he had picked up on this technique, ohhhh, let's say 4 YEARS AGO, it would've saved us from a lot of head aches and a lot of fighting matches (as fun as they are) .

"Ow!" I cringed later in the locker room, "Owwie, owwie OWWWWWWW!-don't POKE IT!"

"Nice one you two." Ange said.

"WE DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

"Uh-hu." that was 'Lic.

"Sure you did-" Ange still helping the cause.

"-I SAID DON'T TOUCH IT!"

"How am I supposed to fix it then?"

"DON'T THEN!"

No, really, just stop Oliver. You're killing me. It REALLY hurt though. During one of the plays a stray bludger came and hit me in my lower back. And I knew there was a bruise. I could feel it coming. One of those ugly yellow ones too with cuts in the middle.

Oliver sighed and looked at 'Lic, Ange and the twins who were just plain bickering. How immature.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!"

Ok, we were all being immature.

"It's alright, Kat," Oliver said coaxingly from behind me.

Ok, maybe everybody but Oliver.

It had been a hard practice. All we did was go over plays again and again and again. And that bludger really topped it off for me. Painful, I know, no need to tell me of all people.

So currently I was sitting on one of the benches with Oliver behind me, attempting to fix what the bludger had done. Which means constant prodding along with a bag of ice. No fun.

I cringed as I scootched away from the bag of ice he was trying to place on my bare skin.

"Kat."

"Yea-AAAAH! That's COLD!"

"That would be the point," Fred pointed out as he and George were about to leave a few minutes later, in normal clothes while me and Oliver were still clad in Quidditch robes.

"It IS a bag of ice," George laughed.

"Oh har har har," I mocked.

"Oliver," Fred said, looking at Oliver who was still behind me, "If we ever run out of ice you can just chip it off of Kates' heart."

Oliver chuckled as I glared at the two of them as they left the locker room laughing. No doubt going to find Ange and 'Lic who had left earlier.

"Feeling any better?" Oliver asked as he sat down next to me, unfortunately not forgetting to keep the bag of ice on my lower back with his hand.

Damn him…

I sighed, "As long as you don't try and give me a massage I think I should be alright," I smiled.

"Har-har," he mocked me.

"Don't make me use your middle name."

"Do you even remember it? I told you way back in your third year."

"It's too much dirt to forget," I smirked. "And I never forget, Oliver Alban Wood."

He cringed. "I hate my mother for ever giving me that middle name."

"Pfft," I said, nudging him, "Sure."

"The sarcasm just keeps coming, doesn't it?"

"Yes mother-Oliver."

"What?"

" 'eat HEALTHY food!' 'it's almost ten, get to bed!' 'Fred, George, I said HEALTHY food! NOT chocolate!' " I said, mimicking what he had said over the past few days ever since he made that new schedule.

He just looked at me, "You just have to remember everything, don't you?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and kissed him before getting up, "Now I am going to get changed and get out of here as soon as possible before you get the idea of bringing me to the-"

"-Hospital wing," he said, smiling and standing up too, "Right after you get changed."

Damn him…

"No way of getting out of it then?" I asked, a little hopeful.

"Nope," he smiled, planking a kiss on my hairline before going to get changed himself.

I picked my long scarlet robes off the floor, "Damn it…"

So 45 minutes later, I hobbled out of the hospital wing right after Madame Pomphrey's 'treatment'-which consisted of constant prodding on my poor lower back.

"That woman…" I said, standing up straight which caused all the vertebra in my spine to crack, "Has got it in for me."

Oliver chuckled as we climbed back up to the tower.

May 13, Friday, 9:51 on the dot.

"It's raining."

"It's been raining since before we woke up."

"But it's still raining."

I sighed. "Yes it is, Fred, and it probably won't stop until after we have practice tomorrow afternoon."

"The world's cruel like that," 'Lic said from the arm chair.

It was after classes and we were sitting in the common room, trying to take advantage of the bad weather and absence of the urge to go outside and were trying to do our homework. But god knows that never works so at the moment Fred was toying with me while Finny was perched on my shoulder, George was trying to beat Ange in a game of chess (the board was on the coffee table in front of the couch and they were sitting on the floor on either end) and 'Lic was curled up in the armchair petting Fredricka.

I sighed again. I hate the rain. Sure, sometimes it's a nice, small drizzle which nobody seems to mind. But then it could be a tsunami like that one time where it's always fun to cuddle up in a blanket. But this rain was so, blah. It was in-between to two but just enough to keep you in your clothes and inside. It was terrible.

I sighed for the umpteenth time.

"Making you that bored?" Fred asked from the other end of the couch. "Because we could make it more interesting-"

"-Stop while you're ahead, Fred," Ange said from the chessboard, while moving one of her bishops. "Checkmate George."

"WHAT? No way!" he looked at all the pieces and then at Fred, "Your girlfriend beat me!"

"It's not that hard, my good brother," Fred smiled as Ange sat next to him.

George pondered this thought for a moment before flicking over his own king, "True enough. Ron beats me all the time," he said, leaning back against 'Lic's legs.

I sighed again and looked around the room, trying desperately to find something that would amuse me for even the smallest amount of time.

"Where's Oliver?" I asked suddenly, sitting straight up.

My friends shrugged their shoulders and 'Lic looked out the window.

"He wouldn't," I said, following her gaze. Thinking the same thing she was.

"He would," they all chorused at the same time.

"Damn it!"

At least this time I had enough common sense to check inside the pitch rather outside in the middle field, aka in the rain, first.

I had nearly given up when I found him in that entrance that we fly out of at the beginning of a match, leaning against the wall on his right shoulder, about ten feet from the actual opening, and looking at the rain outside, with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a navy blue sweater with a hem of a white tee shirt sticking out from the bottom with a pair of jeans. I loved that sweater, I also knew it had a slight, guys' V-neck in the front. You see, with the rain and the wind you had to wear a sweater over your tee shirt. I told you it wasn't nice rain.

I smirked to myself, crept up behind him and put my hands over his eyes.

"Fred and/or George Weasley, get your filthy hands off of me or I swear I will-" I planted a kiss at the base of his neck when he was obviously shocked because he thought I was one of the twins, spun around and gave a huge sigh of relief and swept me into a huge bear hug.

"So now I'm being mistaken for one of the twins?" I laughed into his shoulder. "Who knew my hands were so manly?" I asked, glancing at them from where they were behind his back. Kinda callous-y from playing so much I guess. "Oh god. I have man hands."

"No," he chuckled, putting me down, holding one of my hands and kissing my fingertips, "They're perfect."

I smiled. How sweet is this man?

"Soooo….," I started, looking out at the rain, "What were you thinking about?"

"How come Professor Treawely hates you again? You could be a mind reader," he said, going back to his position before but this time taking me with him so I was leaning on him.

"If I could I wouldn't be asking. And that old bat actually hates me," I said with a bit of light laughter, fingering the hem of his sweater at his back where one f my hands were. I paused, "So what's wrong?"

He gave a deep sigh, "Just mad at myself, I guess."

Normally here I would've sighed exasperatedly and said something like 'so what made you fail the herbology test this time?' or something that would pry a smile out of him. So instead I simply said "Why?"

Honestly, as far as I know he's been on beat with everything and nothing too damaging has happened.

He looked at me with those huge chocolate colored eyes and that always-messy hair of his and it took a damn truck load of self control not to snog him senseless right there. But then again it wasn't exactly the right time to do so anyway.

"A made a mistake," he finally said.

Obviously the worst situations popped into my head first. The possibilities? Ohhhhhhh, the possibilities…

#1: he was cheating on me

#2: he was leaving Hogwarts early.

#3: he killed somebody other than Marcus Flint.

But after a second or two and a mild heart attack, I thankfully came to the conclusion that none of these were characteristic of Oliver Alban Wood (thank god).

So the only poetry that spewed out of my 16 year old mouth was, "Oh…really?"

He nodded, looking back out at the rain.

"Umm…" I searched for the right words, running my left hand (the one that wasn't fingering the hem of his sweater) through my hair. "Well, um…do you need my help? Fixing it I mean?"

"That's the thing," He smiled warmly at me, "You can't really fix it."

I smiled back, realizing that he didn't get himself into too deep of trouble, "Everything can be fixed."

"But that's the thing, it's already been done so long ago over such a long period of time I couldn't possibly fix it before I graduate."

I hate the 'G' word. You know the one I mean, 'graduate'. It's officially just as bad as 'Lic's choice words that she uses during dawn practices. Or rather, that she used to use when we had dawn practices. Who knew I would miss them so much? Sure they were a pain, but that's where all our good stories came from.

"So," I said after a while, "are you going to tell me of this problem of yours, or am I going to have to guess all day?"

"It's just that…" he trailed off, scratching the back of his head with the hand that wasn't resting on my hip (his right), "that…I've taken so much for granted."

I started to sigh but instead it turned into a light laugh.

Oliver looked at me puzzled.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I thought it would be something much worse," I explained before he could ask, "It's just nice to know that you haven't dug yourself into too big of a hole of trouble."

"But I have," he said, turning so his back was against the wall vs. his shoulder and placing his other hand on my hip so I was up against him, smiling slightly.

"Because you're such a troublemaker?" I asked skeptically with sarcasm, randomly fiddling with his belt buckle. "But really-how much could you've taken for granted to get you all worked up?"

"Well you, for one," he answered automatically.

"Me?" I asked shocked. He nodded. "Me? Katie. Katherine Ann Bell. Me? What did I do?"

He chuckled, no doubt at my shock. "You didn't do anything. I didn't do anything, and that's the problem."

"Ok, will you stop talking in riddles and explain what you mean in comprehensible means?" I asked after a slight pause, not following at all.

"I didn't do anything when I should have." I blinked a couple of times at him, mutely telling him to try again to get me to understand. "I should've told you years ago that I liked you."

"What do you mea-ooooooooohhhhhhh, like me," I paused, thanking god I finally caught on, "How many years are we talking here?"

He sighed, looking down towards the right, "At least two."

I slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand, "Two years? Two years. Two years-"

"-At least. Not counting this one…" he added softly.

"So all of this year leading up to February plus two more," I said. "So there was only one year when both of us just thought the other as 'just a friend and teammate'?" I slapped his shoulder again, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"…Iwasafraid…" he mumbled, strumming his fingers on my hips.

"Of me?" I asked, surprised at myself for catching what he said at all. "Jeez, I didn't know I was so dead beat ugly as a third year," I said softly, running my hand through my hair.

Oliver laughed, pulling me closer to him, "Not of you. I was afraid of losing you. I didn't want to lose you just because I screwed up."

I smiled. "Oh please. If anybody was going to screw up it would've been me," at that last word I placed a hand on my chest before moving both my hands behind his neck and once again fiddling with the trim of his sweater. Obviously my manly hands need constant occupying. "So is that everything now?"

Oliver nodded smiling and I knew he was about to kiss me so I started the conversation again.

"Good," I smiled cheekily as he realized I knew what he was up to. "because I have my own insecurities I need to vent out."

"Now?" he moaned, tightening his grip around me, giving me pleading eyes.

"Yes now," I smiled. I knew I was teasing him, and the fact that it was working made me even happier. "We've spent a good-" I looked at my watch which was attached to the arm around his neck so no unneeded straining, "-45 minutes on you, at least Mr. Two Years And A Half. And I only have one-maybe two-quick questions."

He sighed and smiled, "What then, Kat?"

"Why?" I asked simply. "and when?"

"Why?" he repeated, as I realized he was fiddling with the hem of my own emerald green sweater that I had thrown on before I left to common room.

"Yes, why me?" I asked again, "Why me out of the millions of girls in the world?" I even threw my head back slightly at the last word. C'mon, you know it's fun to tease him. You know it. "Oh, and when to would be nice."

"Do you want me to go into a full and detailed list?" he asked.

"I'm not going to lie," I said, still smiling cheekily, "That would be nice. But seeing as it's raining and it's only going to get worse-give me the short, sweet, and to the point list."

"Can I give you the 'when' first?"

"Why? Don't have any decent answers to the first?"

He chuckled, "No, I just need some time to revise it into a shorter version."

"Ok," I said, trying to sound disappointed. "give me the 'when'."

"Quick question: is it when I realized I was head over heels for you or when I started to like you?"

"Ummmmmm," I thought for a second, wonder which I would like to hear more. Both were so-so-so irresistible to hear about. "The second one."

"Well, in occurrence to the second one, the twins tell me it was when you had to get your eyes fixed." he answered without missing a beat.

"But that was when I was in my second year…" I said. Almost shuddering at the thought about the fateful day when I gained my undying fear of the Hospital wing.

Commencing flashback:

"Are you sure this isn't going to hurt?" I asked in my 12 year old form.

"You'll be fine," Tom said reassuringly, clasping one of my shoulders.

Tom, Oliver and Madame Pomphrey were the only ones there at the moment. 'Lic, Ange and the twins' eyes were 100 perfect and 20:20, and having no need to be there (I had convinced them I would be fine and that they didn't have to stay. What a mistake that was) weren't there. But me, I had 20:30, so therefore, I had to get my eyes fixed. Tom was basically bent on making his team as perfect as possible. I think it was around December then at after 4 months of Quidditch I had already spent a few days in the wing and I thought I would be fine.

"Now," Madame Pomphrey said from one side of the cot I was laying on. "All I need is for you to keep your eyes open wide. Alright then?"

I nodded confidently. None of the other times I had spent in the wing had turned disastrous.

After 45 minutes Madame realized she would have to charm my eyes to stay open. By then it should've been done with. But she had only done one eye and after that I wasn't about to let her do the next, it hurt that much. By that time Oliver was the only one else there, Tom had left because he had detention.

"I thought you said you would be alright?" Madame said as I refused to let her wand any where near my other eye.

"That was before I knew you were going to gorge my eyes out!" I rebutted.

"Just calm down!"

"I'm trying!"

Oliver had started to hold my hand at that point.

TIME OUT! At this point I would just like to point out that after 4 months and several hundreds of practices everybody on the team had become really close and so at this point I was under the assumption me and Oliver were FRIENDS! Ok, back to the flash back:

I looked up at him, almost shocked.

"You're fine, Kat," he had said comfortingly. "Bludgers have done worse and you already have had one eye done. One more and you'll be scot-free."

I sighed, biting my lip, scared out of my mind at the thought of Madame Pomphrey practically sticking her wand through my pupil and pleasantly shocked at Oliver's gesture. But the second one was obviously second to the larger and scarier first one.

"Oh," I eventually said, turning back to Madame Pomphrey, "Just hurry up about it."

And that's when I put Oliver's hand in a death grip and gained my undeing fear of the hospital wing.

End flash back.

"Oliver," I said after a while. "that was my second year."

"And?" he asked not catching on.

"That would be this year plus three, then, not two."

"But that's not when I realized I liked you." he rebutted. "I realized I liked you next September."

"What do you mean?" I asked with an eyebrow cocked after a pause. "Then what was that whole holding-my-hand thing?"

"That," Oliver said smirking, "Was one team mate being there for another. I had to get my eyes fixed two years before so I knew how much it hurt."

"Oh," I said, somewhat shocked.

You see, after I was aloud out of that hell hole, aka hospital wing, I told Ange and 'Lic what happened and they both started squealing and things pretty much went down hill from there. It took me 3 MONTHS to convince them we were just friends.

"It was a bit the twin's doing actually," he said after a second, looking upwards as he thought, smiling fondly. "they keep pestering me. Saying that I should just pull you in a broom closet and get it over with."

I think my eyebrows suddenly got lost in my hairline.

Let me explain. You see, now I wouldn't care if Oliver pulled me into a broom closet, even on several occasions. But do have any idea what my 12 year old form would've done under the circumstances? I don't even know. I don't want to know. I do know it would be disastrous.

"That's what I thought," Oliver chuckled. "But know the idea doesn't seem so bad."

I rolled my eyes and sighed laughing lightly. "Ok. That's one question down."

He groaned and to add to his little drama he put his hand on my shoulder.

I really could get used to this teasing thing.

Then he started kissing the base of my neck.

I REALLY could get used to this teasing thing.

"Oliver," I growled half heartedly. I had to keep the whole teasing thing going, it was too much fun to stop!

Be strong Katie. Don't give in. It'll be worth it.

"Alright," he sighed, bring his head back up. He paused for a second. " 'why' was the question right?"

"Yes, Oliver," I said as if I was an impatient mother. " 'why' was the question."

"Well," he started, smiling, "For starts you never cease to make me laugh or smile at the very least, without even trying. You're sarcastic, funny, bright-"

"-except for potions-"

"- you're a great friend: you're a loyal and trustworthy. You couldn't lie to save your life. You one of the best chasers I've ever seen and one of the few that can put up with me during practice, or even during the season. And you're gorgeous," he added softly, raising my chin up (that last little bit had made me look down and blush a bit like every time someone said that.) with his forefinger and thumb. And all my teasing was about to pay off because I knew he was going to kiss me.

"But," he said, our lips practically brushing against each other, started up again. "With all of that, you still have your faults."

I groaned loudly.

Now he was teasing too? That doesn't work! Only one person can do the teasing, not two! It can't possibly work! …oh he's good…

"You bite your lip, you bite your nails," he listed as I put my head on his chest and let my arms hang next to me, giving up as he continued in a serious voice. "You're stubborn, you refuse to buy new quills because your stubborn. You're sarcastic and can have a dry sense of humor. You can't stay serious for long, the longest ever was that match that last four hours. You always have your hair in a bun every time I want to run my hand through it. You always cram and wait for the last second to write an essay. Sometimes you skip meals and all the tutoring in the world couldn't get you an 'O' in potions."

"Are we quite done, now?" I asked, my face still in his chest.

"No, not yet," he said in a somewhat lighter tone. "You're head strong, independent and could get along fine without me-"

"THAT is not true." I said, suddenly snapping my head up and poking his chest.

"Ok, granted. But you're not clingy, you're not without a good sense of humor or a lick of sense. You're bright and sweet without knowing it. You make a boring day fun and your smile is contagious. You're a tomboy and athlete at heart and isn't worried about petty things that have no real value-"

"-so we're phasing back into the good things now?"

"Let me finish," he said. "Every time there is even a slight possibility you could even be slightly agitated with me I can never concentrate in classes, I can't think of new plays and eating and breathing don't seem important anymore. Without even know you have me wrapped around your finger." He paused for a second to either let this all sink in or for my little brain to process all this. "And that," he said, leaning in, and I realized all my teasing was about to pay off, "Is why I choose you over all the other girls in the whole world," said mocking me.

I leaned in smiling, almost beaming, but he kept going.

"And being friends for 4 and a half years doesn't hurt either-"

I had to kiss him before he could day anything else.

Now here some people might say I have less will power than him but the smart people will say I have a bigger heart and it makes sense that I cut him off. Thank you smart people.

For a second I opened one eye, just a bit, and saw that he was smiling faintly as he kissed me back. Hell, I was too so who cared? It's a good thing for crying out loud!

His left arm was wrapped around my waist while his right was running along the length of my back with his fingers spread wide supporting me. Now here I would like to personally thank whoever taught this man to kiss and then I would take a small moment to wonder why on god's green earth did they let him go. The man was teasing me then too. Well, not literally. He would find my bottom lip and move his teeth over it for a second or two meanwhile keeping my hips up against his. And it sent shivers up my spine. That never happens! Do you know how unfair that is? Especially considering that all I was doing was sitting there and enjoying it? Letting my damn manly hands play with his hair simply because they need constant occupying. I did enjoy it though, I will not lie.

Oh, but then along came a spider. Literally.

"Oliver?"

"Mmm?" he asked against my lips.

"There's a spider on my arm."

"Mmmand?"

"I don't like spiders."

"Just swipe it away."

"Er…I REALLY don't like spiders."

He pulled away to look at me. But it was only his torso so our hips were still together, his hands are still around me, so I was unable to move away from the spider on his shoulder.

"Are you afraid of spiders?" he asked, taking one arm off me to brush it off his shoulder.

"Well," I bit my lip, "Not deathly afraid just 'god it's hairy and big and I don't want to touch it' not like them." I explained, slightly ashamed. Do have any idea what it's like to have no fear of a speeding bludger that is no doubt going to hit you but still be 'if'-y about spiders. Not exactly a good feeling.

He let out a small chuckle.

"That's not funny, Oliver Wood," I said, playfully slapping his shoulder.

"Yes it is."

"No, no it's not."

"C'mon, think about it for a second," he urged. "We fly fifty feet above the ground, get bombarded and bashed by bludgers, and we're frightened by the smallest things."

I stared blankly at his warm smiling face and really tried to find any remote funniness. There was none.

"No," I said after a while, shaking my head. "There isn't. #1: spiders can be hunormous! And #2: we? What are you afraid of?"

"…jellyfish…" he muttered after a while.

"Jellyfish?" I asked, almost laughing myself.

"Yes jellyfish," he repeated. "There are huge ones in Australia."

I let out a small laugh before giving him a tight hug, "I love you."

He kissed my head, "I love you too-"

"Oh gods, who knows what they've been doing all this time."

I looked around and saw none other than Fred Weasley standing where I had come out before along with his twin Greg - I mean George. Just kidding.

"Less than you and Ange," I said half laughing and have glaring as Oliver dropped his hands. That combination doesn't work too well, hu?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Fred said, waving his hand and brushing the subject off. "Can we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah," George agreed, "Fred's been afraid of thunderstorms since he was little- Ow! What was that for?" he asked as Fred punched his shoulder.

"So can we go?" Fred asked again, choosing to ignore his twin who was currently digging around in his pockets for something that would be efficient payback.

"Alright," Oliver said, lacing his hand in mine, "Don't want you guys staying out here too long, could get sick for the final."

The rest of us groaned s we started back towards the castle.

Damn rain.

Damn spider.

Damn twins.

And above all: damn rain.

But thank you to the person who let Oliver become another fish in the sea for me to catch and officially make him mine. Cliché? Only a bit but it is true.

Oh god. Writing this chap was like a marathon that never ended. I had no idea how long it was going to be until I wrote it and I pray that I got it somewhat right. I'm not going to lie, starting this off I had no idea what I was going to do, then I felt like some insecurities needed to be surfaced (you know they're fun to toy with) and out popped the 50th, yes 50th (!), chapter. oh, was the flashback alright? for some reason i had an urge just to put one in there.

Hope you liked and use the same reviewing system we used last time. If you forgot, go back to the last chap and read the end note. I would write it again but I'm too lazy and I can barely feel my fingers. And since this is a ten page chap, I want LONG reviews please