I'm still here! This story is not going anywhere other than its planned end. Unfortunately, it's shaping out to be a chaotically busy semester, but I won't bore you with detailed excuses.

I know some of you like to look up the poems mentioned in each chapter, so I thought I should mention that 'The Sun Rising' is especially fitting (in my sort of expert opinion as a literature student who studied it this week) considering the opening of this chapter. However, the arrogance the narrator admittedly makes it more of a Charlie poem in my eyes.

'Busy old fool, unruly sun,

Why dost thou thus,

Through windows, and through curtains call on us?

Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?'

- 'The Sun Rising', John Donne (1633)

Chapter Forty-two - of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers

Kathleen yawned. Her eyelids fluttered open; blue eyes appearing pewter in the hazy, grey light saturating every fibre of the room. Sleepily, she slipped her hand beneath the pillow and grasped blindly under the smooth cotton for the muffled alarm that had startled her awake. After successfully shutting off the bell, she let herself relax under the warm blankets with a contented sigh. A few stolen moments of bliss later she opened her eyes properly, trying in vain to recall her reasoning for such an early waking time. But instead of an answer, she was faced with the startling sight of Cameron snoring on the opposite side of the room. Reeling from shock she rubbed the last dregs of sleep from her eyes. The action was like the destruction of a dam as last night's events came flooding back. It was then that she realised it was not the sleepiness pervading each cell of body that pinned her down. In fact, she was literally pinned down.

The culprit lay a mere few inches away. His breath blew softly on the pillow his face was half-buried in, gliding across the snowy fabric and brushing her shoulder with burning intensity. One arm lay crooked underneath the feathered cushion, the other draped over her waist. His hand curled into the wine-coloured blanket bunched above her hip. She let her eyes rest on his face for a moment, marvelling at its rare, restful expression. Her breath caught at the tender feelings blooming inside her heart. As hard as it was trying to figure out how to move without waking him, it was harder still not to admit that she craved the opposite, desiring instead to rid herself of the space between them entirely. An eternity seemed to pass before she slowly stretched her legs out. Shivering slightly, she gradually twisted further sideways and slipped out of his bed. His arm fell into the vacated space. She paused at the bedside, her bare feet as frozen on the icy floorboards as her gaze on the familiar figure she never could seem to turn her back on. Breathing deeply, she pulled the dislodged blankets further over him. Kathleen draped her coat over her shoulders, grabbed her shoes and tiptoed across the hardwood floor. With one last look at the two sleeping occupants of the room, she opened the door with a low click.

Welton's corridors were eerily silent. If she hadn't become so adept at avoiding creaky floorboards during the club's midnight ventures the short journey would've taken twice as long. By the time she reached her own door the grey morning light had brightened to a pale yellow. No dog was in sight, but an abundance of half-eaten biscuits and crumbs littered the floor. She hadn't realised how many the boys had thrown until several remnants crumbled beneath her bare feet. With a grimace she hopped into her room - almost tumbling through in her haste to brush the unpleasant layer of grime from her sole. Several moments and two clean feet later, Kathleen had cleared the mess and emerged from the bathroom washed and dressed.

Her sudden solitude perhaps wasn't the best situation, she realised, steering her wandering mind away from subjects she didn't particularly want to dwell upon. However, the memory of the last twenty-four hours seemed determined to clash with the future she knew would destroy everything that was beginning to build. Hastily, she picked up Dracula* from her shelf. A good scare of the supernatural kind would do.

Yet the literary refuge she sought was not easily found as Quincey Morris emerged from the pages. The bold, brave and diverting American hero was beginning to shift into a form too close for comfort. Kathleen snapped the book shut. Scanning her shelves became futile. The Bride of Lindorf, Wuthering Heights, North and South, The Great Gatsby, Great Expectations, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Romeo and Juliet.* Since when had her favourites been centred around love and loss? Tragic romances and well-worn romantic tales stacked up around her until she ended up with The Odyssey.* But soon the Greek Heroes became unbearable. The inconvenience of having love shoved down her throat in literature had not occurred to her before. Once upon a time books had solved all her problems, but for now she settled on grabbing her Latin, staying as far away from 'Carpe Diem' as possible.

XXXX

"Where is everyone?"

"I wish I knew," Kathleen frowned, glancing at the doors again. "It's too quiet."

Meeks hummed in agreement and let his eyes roam back his watch. "I suppose it's only half-past. They've got another twenty minutes, but that's pushing it."

"Missing breakfast...sacrilege" Pitts muttered , jumping back as a small mountain of cereal slopped over the side of his spoon. Soggy lumps of cornflakes were strewn along the table. The mess dripped across the table top and more unpleasantly, down his uniform. Knox flicked a few flyaway droplets from his own jumper sleeve. His expression resigned.

"Would it kill you to learn some table manners?"

All four heads turned to the source of the complaint. Cameron's eyebrows knitted together as he sat amongst puzzled looks. "What? Am I not allowed to articulate what we're all thinking?"

"Cameron," Kat said slowly, "you're late."

"I know how to read a clock, Kathleen."

Pitt's looked around in mock panic "the apocalypse, Meeks. It's here, I can see the end now."

"Shut up."

"We've had a good run, Pittsie," Meeks laid a solemn hand on his shoulder. "If only Cameron were here to witness our last breakfast but alas, his nerves could not take the strain of unpunctuality."

"I swear I can still hear him," Pitts sniffed, "I shall never forget the sound of his nagging."

Meeks pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, "and all this time he was right. The world will end if compulsory-"

"That's enough," Cameron snapped. His glare fierce enough for Kat to turn her giggle into a cough. Luckily for the boys, Todd arrived with a plate full of pastries alongside his usual breakfast. His presence was distracting enough to stop Cameron's tirade before it could begin, and the extra pastries enticing enough for Pitts to drop the act in favour of swiping one before the plate had even been set down.

"Those are for Neil," Todd said simply, his hardened look forcing Pitts to return the stolen treat sheepishly.

Kat took a sip of her tea. "Where is Neil? It's weird to see you here without him," she trailed her index finger around the rim of the mug as she spoke, "and Charlie. In fact, the four of you are weirdly late."

"I guess it is," he shrugged, bringing his own mug to his mouth. He smiled briefly at the caffeine hit. "There was a, uh, a disagreement," Todd tilted his head in Cameron's direction. "After that Neil needed his help with something. They'll be along soon."

"Disagreement?" Cameron rolled his eyes. "It was a hostage situation."

Todd didn't reply.

"Hostage situation?" Kat shared an uneasy look with Meeks. "Would you care to elaborate?"

Cameron frowned. His face screamed disapproval yet he refused to explain. One look at Todd's shaky hands was enough for her to drop the subject altogether.

"I guess we should divide the pastries between those of us with pockets, "she said finally, grabbing the stack of napkins Todd had brought over. "It doesn't look like they'll make it after all."

XXXX

"I fell asleep recalling what I "used to do" when I was at Miss Havisham's; as though I had been there weeks or months, instead of hours; and as though it were quite an old subject of remembrance, instead of one that had arisen only that day.

That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."

Kathleen let her eyes slide over the page for a fourth time before she gave up, her sigh muffled by the open copy of 'Great Expectations' spread across her face. Fortunately, she had claimed the warmest spot in the common room without argument; it had become common knowledge that the cold victimised her more than the boys. Coincidently, it was also the most private since the rug by the fireplace was located behind the armchair Cameron occupied - no one would dare bother her in such close vicinity to his study spot. From where she lay on her back only her skirt clad legs could be seen.

Scrunching her eyes closed against the rough pages, she blew out another puff of air. All day she had been waiting for the incident last night to be brought up, but it was approaching four thirty in the afternoon and still no mention had been made. As pleased as she was to keep her complexion from resembling a tomato, the boys took any opportunity to rag on each other. The whole situation was beginning to feel rather odd. It was unsettling to say the least.

She was so caught up in her tangle of thoughts that she almost missed the gentle prod in her arm. Blinking herself back to reality she lifted the book to see Todd on his stomach beside her.

"Are you okay?" He whispered.

She nodded, "just a little muddled."

"Is this about," he looked at her hesitantly, "um, about last night?"

She shook her head, causing his forehead to collapse into wrinkles, "then what-"

"Today," she cut him off quietly, pausing to listen in on the boys chatter on the other side of Cameron's armchair for a moment. "I expected jokes, or at very least a comment or two or an interrogation from Neil but instead it's like nothing happened."

He sunk down to rest his chin on his hands which were pressed against the fabric of the rug, tapping his fingers in thought. "Did something happen?"

"Of course not!" She hissed.

"Not like that." A ghost of a smile haunted his lips. "I mean for you."

Running her fingers through her hair she kept her gaze locked on the movement.

"Kat?"

"Nothing new," she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. "Not that it's a surprise to you."

Todd sat up with a smile. "Really Kat, it was selfish of you not to take my bed. There are only so many times a guy can fall asleep on another guy's shoulder before he seems desperate." She bolted upright with a shriek, but Todd was already striding away with a devilish grin.

"Are you alright?" Knox asked, his tone concerned.

She met Todd's pleased expression with a smile wider than any other she had given all day. "I'm fine," she called back, "I was caught up in my book and Todd startled me."

Todd Anderson, she thought with an immeasurable mix of amusement and disbelief, you really are a dark horse.

* Dracula, Bram Stoker (1897)

* The Bride of Lindorf, Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1836)

* Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë (1847)

* North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell (1854)

* The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925) - Plus Zelda Fitzgerald, his wife, whose letters, journals, and remarks were used without credit by her husband in his writing

* Great Expectations, Charles Dickens (1861)

* Breakfast at Tiffany's, Truman Capote (1958)

* Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare (1597)

* The Odyssey, Homer (c. 8th Century BCE, and published in English 1614)