Terribly sorry this took so long, but I was looking for a place to live when I go to college, so I have a place to stay now so its all good and I hope this chapter makes up for the long delay.
Lacrymosa dies illameans: Tearful that day shall Be
The Baron had offered to take her to dinner, and she was hungry. It had been a long while since she last ate a real meal. It was a terrible reason to agree to dine with someone whose intentions were convincing her to marry him. She agreed and buried the qualms she had about accepting the invitation. With Erik in her life she was no longer certain of anything. The Phantom was not a phantom, he was a man, the phantom was not mad, he was just in love so desperately with a woman who didn't care for him at all. Even the static things in her life were changing and it was no longer so easy to know what was right and what was wrong and what would help her and what would hurt her. The Baron said something and looked at her expectantly so she smiled and nodded agreeing with him quietly. He didn't really care what she said, he just wanted her to sit there and look pretty.
He had ordered a bottle of wine for the table but it wasn't like what she had sometimes with Erik. He would only serve wine of the darkest reds and of the best vintages. She didn't know how he got the wine down where he lived but he did, and it was only the best. This wine was white; already a strike against it in her mind, and it wasn't very good at that. She drank it just the same; something had to help her stomach the dry chicken and burnt bread. The cheese was good but the apple was not yet ripe and the grapes were too ripe. She knew the meal would probably pay for new slippers for her—a smile took hold of her features and spread from her lips all the way to her eyes, the Baron didn't notice but waiters walking by were sure that she was a woman in love—of as nice a quality as the ones Erik had given to her. Still, the price of the meal seemed to have nothing to do with how good the meal was. When Erik served her food in his realm beneath the Opera it was the finest she had ever tasted, not that she often had the chance to eat the finest foods that Paris had to offer.
Had she said often? She meant never.
The food may not have been as good as she would have liked but it was a meal. She had never been wealthy and so she had grown up with the idea that any meal was a meal and you ate all you could because you never knew when you would eat again. In his dying days her father had taken to drinking to ease the pain of the illness that was eating away at him. While before his death they had the money to eat every day and keep a roof over their heads, his decline in health put them deeper and deeper into debt with unsavory people. The money left and most of the money Megan and her mother made went to keeping them out of trouble with the debt collectors left behind with Megan's father's death.
They had long ago paid his debts but not before Madame Giry got sick herself. So still money was tighter than it could be, furthermore her mother worked less and less and they no longer had the Phantom to fall back upon.
Not to say that Megan was not grateful to Erik. He fed her and he was teaching her to read and write.
Things had been so much easier when she was a child, before her mother thought her to become and Empress, before her father died and back when her only worry was her sixteenth birthday.
Long ago her father had worked in a small French settlement just north of America. Close enough that he saw for himself how things were in America and how good the Americans' lives were. When he returned to France and his wife bore a girl who had little other than marriage to look forward to in their country he and his wife talked. If they taught her English and gave her an American name she could be happy and wealthy in the land of the free.
There Megan could be whatever she liked because woman could make it out there, there were tales of women in the West who ran their own lives and there were people in New York who had money and would go to a ballet. Her parents were certain that a life in America would be better lived because America was the land of freedom and prosperity; streets paved with gold and opportunities 'round every corner. There their little daughter could lead a rich, full life. After all, her parents had been alive during the war and they had suffered the pain that most suffered at that time. They would not put their daughter through that; they would free her if they could.
So their tiny family saved all they could and the child dreaded her sixteenth birthday when she would be sent to a country she didn't know all alone and leave her family behind. Those plans dissipated like smoke on the wind when her father died. The money they had saved to send Meg away was desperately spent trying to keep him alive. It was frittered away and gone and Megan was safe from leaving her home. She could not be made to move, she was allowed to stay in a world she knew with what remained of her family. For a few months everything was good but then the Phantom needed more than just a box attendant. He needed someone who feared and respected him, someone who could spread his name and convince the managers to do as he said. He needed Madame Giry.
He sent the note then, the one that would dictate Meg's worth in her mother's eyes. No more did Meg's dreams matter, no more did anything about Meg matter. Only the idea, the hope, the dream in her mother's mind that dear, precious Megan would be an Empress; the same little Megan who was supposed to go to New York and dance.
Megan never saw the note, never understood why her proud mother would now bend over backwards to please the Phantom. She never knew why her mother suddenly thought her plain, simple daughter could be an Empress. Could nothing, her mother was certain that Meg would be an Empress. All Meg became in her mother's eyes was a link to the life they had dreamed of and never thought possible. On the rare occasion that a man noticed Meg her mother was more than content to run them off. They were not Emperors, they were not husband material. Madame Giry hated that Megan seemed ready to settle for the Baron. Baroness was beneath Megan. Megan, the same girl whose parents were sure couldn't do well anywhere but America, the plain little girl who should give up dancing and get her head out of the clouds.
That little girl would become an Empress?
Had Megan known just who had planted those thoughts into her mother's head she might not have been so inclined to save the Phantom rather than box his ears.
Every morning after a night out with the Baron went the same…
"I hope you're not wasting your time with that silly Baron again today." Madame Giry said as Meg straightened up their small flat and cleaned up the remnants of their small breakfast. The Baron was back in Paris once more but with Erik treating her so kindly—or as kindly as he knew how to treat anyone—her feelings were all muddled and she was no longer so sure about what to do with her life. It was getting worse. Before, with both men in her life she had thought that she would marry the Baron and learn from Erik. After all the man who ruled the Opera had no feelings for her and she bore none for him. However when the Baron was gone and Erik was all she saw outside of practice…she was a child again, she was scared again and wanting to help her mother again. The Baron offered stability and a safety. He was a sure thing. He had proposed numerous times and he really did seem to care for her and he would take care of her and her mother.
And then there was Erik.
Mysterious Erik, the man behind the myth she had loved as a child. Oh yes. When she was little she had loved hearing tales about him. She used to bully the other rats into going on "Phantom Hunts" trying to find where he went everyday. But when she was twelve her dreams had been dashed. She found new dreams yes but a girl never forgets her first kiss, her first lover, or her first broken heart. And Erik did break her heart once; that fateful day when Madame Giry brought home that pretty fan. A perfect little thing made of delicate pieces of wood and elegant feathers from a bird Megan could not name. It smelled of the sort of perfume Jammes's mother wore—Megan and Jammes loved to sit at that elegant vanity and smell the tiny bottles from exotic lands—which Meg knew to be worth more than she would ever earn in her life.
"Maman!" Meg gasped as her mother approached her. This was back when Megan was too small to walk home alone and Madame Giry waited long after the audience had left for her little girl so the two might walk home together. "Did the Phantom give that to you?" She hoped he had. It was so beautiful, surely this must mean that the Phantom cared for the two of them enough to save them. He could never fill the hole her father left but he could take care of her mother and they could live at the Opera together so there were no more long walks home in the dark or the rain. He would make sure that they never had to work for every penny they earned and Meg could eat whatever she liked, she would certainly never go hungry again. No more sleeping in a cold, wet room with fighting neightbors.
"The Phantom's lady left it behind, I shall return it to them tomorrow night." The woman said, jerking her hand away before Meg's smaller hand could dirty up the perfect white feathers. Meg froze mid-step when she heard that and she almost could feel her world crumbling around her. She paused and her mother kept walking, forcing her to scamper after the taller woman, even with the older's limp.
"His…lady?" Meg had to swallow the lump in her throat as she talked. She struggled desperately to fight off the well of emotions in her. It would not do to let her mother know how upset she was. Madame Giry would just be angry at her daughter for having indulged such fantasies.
"Oui. I did not hear her speak but she comes sometimes. He always requests that I bring him a footstool for her." Meg's heart was broken at the time but she was a child and children tend to be madly in love one day and then out of it the next. She still liked to think the Phantom would save them but it was a more realistic dream now, one where he would hire her mother and be a patron to her. Soon she even forgot about the fan and the lady friend. So much else happened in her life and so much else happened with the Phantom—of course now she knew him to be a man named Erik—that such a trivial detail seemed unimportant and was forgotten.
Forgotten until thoughts of the Baron she planned to marry and Erik came together in her mind all at once.
"MEGAN!" Her mother shouted, banging her cane against the ground. Megan jumped and turned to her mother.
"I'm sorry Maman, what were you saying?" She asked. She had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't even heard her mother trying to get her attention.
"I asked if you were going to waste your time with that silly Baron again today. You will be an Empress Meg, you cannot waste your time with a mere Baron." Megan sighed, it was a lecture she received often enough from her mother.
"I told you last night I've practice tonight and then some of the other ballerinas and I were going to go out for dinner." She assured her mother. Of course she had practice, she went every day. The other part was a lie. But how else was Megan to explain her time spent with Erik in the basement of the Opera House to her mother. That would never do, firstly because to her mother he was just the Phantom, nothing more. Not the learned man who was teaching Megan important lessons her parents had been unable to teach their daughter.
"Alright Meg. Buy some of that lovely tea from the shop down the street on your way home. My joints are acting up again." Her mother asked. Megan sighed at the request and paused in the door. The tea her mother wanted was an herbal remedy that did nothing but drain their already low funds. However if she wanted it, it wasn't as though Megan would say no. It was her mother and Megan would do anything for the woman. So on her way to the Opera House she stopped at the shop and ordered a few coins worth of the tea. It was more than she could spare but if she didn't eat dinner she would be fine.
Megan was on time for practice, leaving the changing room crowded with girls, and acres of gossip about the other girls. Megan found her life was the topic for the day and the numerous proposals on the part of the Baron seemed to be the most interesting of her whole life. She put up with it though, what else would she do, she knew from watching the older ballerina's that your life was not your own anymore, you could ignore the whispers or correct them but either way they would continue so why bother with them at all.
To answer every rumor would take the whole of her life and she was busy enough as it was trying to make something of herself, so she let the rumors fly and waited for the girls to settle on something else. Practice was as it always was, Hannibal was coming again, and she was lost once more in the background, a slave girl dancing with no one but her chains. She was unhappy about the part but she was still dancing and she was happy so long as she could dance. It would have to do, of course, no matter how many times she told herself that didn't stop the fact that she was scrubbing tears out of her eyes when she entered Erik's elegant home. She knew Christine had never been in the background, even before Erik was training her; the little girl had stood out. Christine had a wealthy benefactor, she was pretty, elegant and her father had been a renowned violinist.
Megan could never compete. She should accept the Baron's proposal before he changed his mind because surely he was her only chance at a wealthy marriage no matter what her mother thought.
Erik glanced at the small clock on his desk. It was true that beneath the Opera house it was difficult to tell if it was morning or night, but with Megan coming and visiting him he had something to gadge time with, her visits. Visits that were more precious to him than they should be, but he couldn't turn her away. He didn't want to be alone and there were these strange feelings building within him. They were not unlike what he felt for Christine but certainly he could never love anyone again and so what he felt for Megan couldn't be love.
Of course that didn't explain why he found himself worrying, actually worrying for her when she failed to show up long after he knew the show of that evening to be over. She could read fine on her own now but she liked to come down and sit with him in his study, she couldn't afford books of her own and he had more than enough books to keep her occupied. He hadn't realized how much he had grown to appreciate her company until he was sitting in his chair beside a fire watching the clock tick and tock and waiting for Megan to show.
He had drifted to sleep waiting for her when the sound of the door to the mirror room slamming open woke him. Meg flew into the home in a flurry of tulle and tears. He exited the study and entered the main room in time to see this and she glanced at him. He had been prepared to yell at her in the manner which was to be expected from the Phantom of the Opera. She clung to him though, held on to him desperately as though she were falling and he was the only thing keeping her up. "Erik!" She gasped against him.
He didn't handle crying women well; he had never had to deal with crying women before. That was why it startled him so when Meg could do nothing but tremble and cry. He let her hold him but he didn't do anything in response, merely stood there, his arms hanging at his sides uselessly and his back ramrod straight. It seemed she cried for an eternity and suddenly the tears slowed, stopped, and other than a hiccupping gasp on occasion she was fine, looking up at him with watery brown eyes and eyelashes that glimmered with tears.
"Maman." She whispered, suddenly tired and weak. She had run here, having nowhere else to turn.
"What's the matter Megan?" He asked, extracting himself from her grip. She was too close. He could smell the soft scent of dust and the ballet that always clung to her and it was making him dizzy and confused. But there, below that was the sharp scent of hospitals. He took a large step backwards, needing distance between himself and her.
"Maman." She managed again. This time she could get further in her story. "Maman was coming down the stairs as the show ended, her joints have been bothering her all week and it was worse today…because it was so cold." She sniffled and a few tears streaked across her cheeks like shooting stars. "She fell down the stairs going from the boxes into the lobby. She's in the hospital now. She's fine, but the doctors were talking about the money and all I have…All I have is a fraction of what I need and I don't know what is going to happen." She couldn't continue. She couldn't tell him that she wanted his help, that if he didn't give her help now she had to turn to the Baron. If it had been her injured she would be too proud to ask for help at all. But it wasn't her, it was her mother, and Megan would do anything for her mother.
Even marry the Baron if that was the only way. She was crying again and she couldn't help it, she felt like she was drowning in her own tears. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore and even then she was still gasping and sobbing. Long into the night and until she fell asleep, the sort of sleep that comes when one has cried away all their energy. She leaned back into the chair he had pushed her into and fell asleep within moments, a few pounding heartbeats, deafening Erik and she was asleep. Of course, now he had time to work, time to figure out what was going on and why he felt so compelled to help.
He had saved Megan, but she had saved him. Even.
He had taught Megan to read and write, Madame Giry had helped him for many years. Even.
He didn't owe her or her mother anything.
Megan kept him company. But he didn't want company. Even enough.
He didn't have to do anything for her family.
So why did he feel so compelled to help her? Why was he calculating how much money was in his account at the bank?
Erik decided that it would be less confusing to just help rather than discover why he wanted to, looking into those emotions was dangerous, dangerous to the precious memories of Christine he was clinging to as Megan had clung to him. He was in love with Christine even if she would never love him back.
Christine was Megan's friend. Madame Giry had seen to that. Christine would want him to help Megan when she could not. He smiled as he stood and paced about the small room. That, surely, was why he wanted to help, that was why his mind had been so quick to decide he should help the two women. It wasn't love though, he knew that. He had loved—did—love Christine. Love did not just fade away, it was forever even if it was useless. So it stood to reason that whatever he felt for Megan was not love, he didn't know what it was, just that it couldn't be love.
He walked to her side, knowing he had to take care of Megan first, then he could handle her mother, just as Christine would want to if she knew of their predicament. He easily lifted her, an arm hooked under her knees and another wrapped gently around her shoulders. He had never before worried for her, but feeling how light she was, how perfectly fragile she was, left him to wonder how often she ate. It couldn't be healthy for a dancer to be so small and light. She was like a porcelain doll, if he so much as squeezed her she might shatter beyond repair.
Of course worry for her weight vanished as he was overtaken with her scent. It wasn't light and flowery like Christine's had been. It was the smell of the Opera itself. He paused a moment and found himself breathing deeply before he could stop himself. It had been so long since he had loitered behind the stage, where the true life of the Opera was, that smelling that familiar scent was like returning home. When he realized his thoughts he almost sped to the room he had intended so long for Christine. The bed would be fine enough for her. She could sleep there as long as he liked and he would take care of her mother for her. He may live his life in the shadows but he had things planned, he had acquired this furniture and he had people he did trust, people who relied on him for his money and so would not betray him.
It was a lesson learned from the Sultana, money inspired trust in people if they didn't know where it came from and wanted it to keep appearing.
He deposited her as gently as he could onto the bed and watched her moan softly and stretch out herself, still deep asleep. He reached across the bed and pulled the quilt over her from the other side so he didn't need to disrupt her again to cover her; oo fast for him to control he had reached out and brushed the soft, tussled curls out of her face. His fingers, cold as death, trailed down her face, along her jaw-line until he realized what he was doing. He tore his hand away from her as though her smooth flesh had burned him. He glared at her from behind his mask. What spell had this damnable woman placed on him?
Megan woke much later, late enough that Erik was long gone. She didn't know this and for a moment she looked about the house beneath the Opera calling his name softly. He had forbidden her long ago to enter his room and so she assumed this was where he must be—she had never seen him leave this place—and wrote a small note. All smiles simply that should could write him a note to explain where she had gone. She still wore Monsieur Bonacieux's coat and so she would return that. She also needed to go to practice. Especially if she intended to pay for her mother's hospital stay Megan could not afford to miss a moment of work. She left the note where he would be sure to see it and grabbed an apple that was a brilliant red. It was easier getting to the upper basements now that she wasn't trembling and sobbing so hard. She discovered it was already the next morning and she was an hour or so early for practice. Sorelli was there already and she had the stage to herself as she practiced. "Dance with me Megan Giry." She said, not opening her eyes as she flowed through the steps.
You did not deny Sorelli anything and so Megan padded across the stage after pulling on her slippers and stood by silently for a moment, waiting…she saw her opening and started into the same movements as Sorelli, trying desperately to keep up.
"Now why are you doing that?" Sorelli asked, her eyes open now.
"You asked me to dance with you." Megan said, confused. Both women had stopped dancing now and stood facing each other in the center of the stage.
"I did not ask you to dance the same." Sorelli took a step so she was close to Megan, as close as she could come. "I hear this music in my head, surely you hear something different. Dance to that." Sorelli explained, her hands touching Megan's temples lightly. "Show me what you hear when there is no sound." It sounded like a question, and to the average observer it was a question. But Megan and Sorelli knew it was a command. Megan was suddenly aware that for the first time in her career Sorelli was taking an interest in a younger, less experienced dancer and helping. Teaching.
Megan paused and breathed deeply, then took up first position. Sorelli took two steps back and stood, just watching. Megan began to dance, her movements stiff and jerky. She was too nervous with just her and Sorelli. "I do not care what you dance like. Don't be nervous on my account." Sorelli's voice pierced through the haze of fear and shocked Megan to her core. That was right. Why would Sorelli care what she did at all? Megan moved more freely then, not even using ballet positions, simply dancing to the pulsing beat that raged in her blood.
When her breath came in ragged gasps and a sheen of sweat covered her flesh Megan stopped and dropped into a sitting position. Sorelli was still there, still watching with hard-to-read eyes that were the color of stormy skies. "Talk to me after your practice in my rooms." Sorelli commanded. It was known that Sorelli practiced on her own, another plus of being Prima Ballerina. Megan didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and promised she would be there.
And she was. After practice she walked to the rooms which were reserved for the Prima Ballerina and knocked lightly on the door, almost hoping that Sorelli wouldn't be there. But the door swung open and Sorelli invited the young woman into her rooms. She stared at Meg, standing in the center of the room and looked her up and down for a moment. "If you have a chance at a happy ending, take it." She said suddenly. "I don't know if the rumors are true or not but if you have your chance take it. Don't miss it like I did. Dancing is your other love I can tell in the way you move. That, you can always have. You can dance in the yard, or you can dance in your home if you have no yard. If you really, truly love dancing you can dance wherever there is room. You cannot find a compromise like that when it comes to the man you love. So if you have a chance with him, do not miss it like I did." She said, her face not moving, her expression never changing from what it always was. "That's all, you can leave."
Meg turned to leave not understanding what Sorelli meant, but attributing it to the rash of rumors that had recently been spread about her around the ballet corps. She was stopped when she felt Sorelli's cool hand grip her wrist. She half-turned and Sorelli thrust a book with a bright red cover at her. Megan knew what it was. She had heard some of the other girls talking about "Bodice Ripper" novels, not that she had ever paid much attention since she couldn't read. Something that Sorelli knew. "I've see you reading magazines, did that man you don't love teach you? Anyway, its something to think about." Sorelli said calmly. "Maybe take you chance while you still have it." And then Sorelli had closed her door and Megan was alone in the hall, unsure of what she was supposed to do now.
Did she love Erik? She had once, of course she had, but she had buried those feelings away when she learned about the lady friend of his. Surely she didn't feel like that anymore. She couldn't love him again when he had broken her heart so fully once already.
She looked at the book and a smile whispered across her face. It was the first book she had ever owned.
In reference to the book, I'm not sure what they were called in France in the time period, just that they did have them (I couldn't find any titles either) So I'm sorry for what I did call it and for the lack of title. I really did try but that question was a bit much for my researching skills.
Fallinglark: Thanks, but you can spaz any time I love hearing it! Addicting you say? Damn am I going to have to post warnings now?
Kim Sparrow: another one saying they're addicted? I can't say I'm not flattered, cause I am, but I think I'm really going to have to start posting warnings at the start of chapters. That or the FDA will come after me and postpone chapters even longer!
Alexis: Wow! I'm so glad. Everything you mention liking is stuff I was worried about putting in, so when I hear people like it, it makes my day ( and inspires me to write even more ) Thanks so much for another fabulous review. I think I have to print all your reviews and shove them in the faces of my english teachers, they always hated my metaphores when I wrote for class. Its reviewers like you who really inspire me to write even when I'm getting sick of this whole thing (which hasn't happened yet so don't worry I'm just sayin').
Mysweetphantom: I'm glad you liked the chapter and there are getting to be so many of you its certainly getting harder but I certainly try my hardest to respond to all my lovely little reviewers. Without you guys there would be no story.
almost funny: Firstly, I do apologize about your trig. Looking at the people who are saying they are addicted and you saying I think I really should submit this as an addictive substance and then your doctor can just write it off or something like its an illness. It's something for me to think about I suppose. :) I agree, I never liked the movie meg, she was too fragile (weasle works well too) and the book Meg seemed...unsavorable. (I won't ask if you don't) When I saw the stage production though I LOVED the way the woman looked who played Meg and I tried to capture that look here. I also seriously adored the compliment about my imagination fitting with the worlds in the book and musical. Putting me up there with ALW and Leroux is the best compliment anyone could ever give me. I know it took me a while to update but maybe that was my plan, let your trig grade come up a little and then post this chapter. :)
Darth: Well I gave the reason for the name here. I really did have this planned in the beginning, I knew Megan wasn't a french name, I am much too obsessive about research for that sort of mistake. I wanted to get into...well it will come up later and you've trusted me this long so I hope you can trust me long enough to find out why I needed her parents to want to send her to america so badly. I promise it makes sense in my head so I hope it will on screen as well. I hope you liked when Erik carried Meg, I added that in after I read your review and it actually helped a place where I was blocked anyway.
Airmid Star: Thank you for your review and I'm sorry about the typos. I'm actually going back over all my prior chapters and editing them and cleaning them up. Something I started when I couldn't think of what to write for a newer chapter. So when you point out things like that it certainly eases the editing process. I'm so glad you agree with me about Meg and that you're so kind about my version of her. I was nervous since so many times Meg seems to get turned into just a Mary Sue of the author.
Quixotic-feline: How could I not forgive my favorite reviewer! You never fail to review just perfectly to fix writers block or make a bad day better. I am so glad you picked up on it. I was trying to make them seem like two shy teenagers. Without making them seem like...two shy teenagers who are out of character. But I thought Erik would be shy "Once burned twice shy" sort of thing and Meg has never had anyone so...I hoped it would fit and so I'm glad you liked it.
Nekkyou Hiryuu: I'm glad it reminds you of the music though unfortunatly I can't take credit for that being on purpose. I'm glad just the same as the music rocks. No pun intended. You owe me art? That would be awesome! Giftart rocks my socks! I love that you enjoy my story that much.
Kyrene once blood Roses : I'm sorry for the baron-ness you must endure but I assure you there will be a happy ending and when I say Erik and Meg I mean its them who will end up together in the end. I'm not spoiling anything though. Trust me, we've a lot more for these two to go through before they can be happy together.
SoulPoet: Sorry to hear about your misfortune, and glad to hear you at least got a tie in the end. I can't say I had any bad luck on the 13th but then again I was too busy working on term papers to pay much attention to the date. I didn't know it had been a Friday the thirteenth until a few days later. :
I love Gerry: Sure I'll start putting the translations in, they're all from the Catholic Requiem Mass if you would like to just look the whole thing up yourself. I'll post a link in my Bio if you want. I'll also post a full translation list at the end of the story for the chapters I've missed okay? Glad you like it so much. I wanted to do it book only but then I thought better. I liked the movie too, why should I make it exclusive? So when I hear movie fans like it (call it best even!) it really makes me smile.
Kate Norris: Well I am glad it shows in my writing, and I agree, the sparks are the most fun part to write (and I hope to read) so glad to provide that enjoyment. I am certainly going to miss when this is over (no before you ask I'm not sure how many more chapters and I'm not going to guess) . Hope to continually provide work you are so kind as to lable "devine". I certainly am trying my best.
Sailor Heva: I agree that there aren't enough E/M phics out there! The couple needs more love. so I hope that I can inspire some of you to try your hand at writing this wonderful couple. In reguards to my research, I really try hard. You should see my desk. I have all these books piled up and my copy of Phantom of the opera? Its filled with notes in my handwriting about certain passages and things I want to do and things I don't like. If I could put annotations on the movie I think I would. Heh. Anyway, I do try with my research so when it shows, it is certainly worth the trouble.
Forensic Photographer711, Pleading Eyes, Anime-Queen46, and irrelevant: Thank you all so much for you kind words and continued support, its you guys as reviewers who really make this story great, telling me what works and what doesn't, so thank you.