October 10, 2011

It wasn't hard to guess what was in the works when Sharon Carter called Peggy, mere days after Steve's awakening, to ask if she could make an unplanned visit to Winchester.

She passed it off like it was a spontaneous trip for pleasure, but after Peggy had warmly told her that they would be happy to pick her up from the airport when she arrived and then ended the call, Mike scratched the back of his neck and said matter-of-factly: "Nick Fury's sending her to give you the news."

"I never did know if he'd done that at all," Steve said. He glanced at Peggy. "I only knew for sure that you knew after the Chitauri invasion. When everything was on the news."

"Professional courtesy, one director to another?" Tien asked curiously as she got up and began to take family photographs off the wall. Mike got up to help her; they all knew the drill by now and there wouldn't be any trace of Steve's existence within sight by the time Sharon got there.

"Everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. knew that I knew Captain Rogers back in the day," Peggy answered. "I was careful never to let on that he was anything more than a colleague to me, but..."

"It's a spy agency," Mike said wryly. "No one there believes in minding their own business."

"And the Howling Commandos no doubt had an idea about how things were between us during the war," Peggy admitted. "Howard Stark certainly did."

"And Colonel Phillips," Steve put in.

"-whether he wanted to or not," Peggy finished, and they grinned at each other. "Poor Colonel Phillips. Do you know, he once accused me of having a crush on you?"

"Do you know, he once pulled me aside to warn me you had a rule about not seeing soldiers while the war was still on?" Steve said.

"And I stuck to it, didn't I?" Peggy shot back.

"Well... mostly."

They laughed together lightly, but Peggy felt the laughter leave her too abruptly as a queasy sense of unease swept over her. She tried not to show it too much on her face. For Steve's sake she was trying to keep things as normal as possible. As far as they knew he was the first man in history to live this type of double life — in the most literal sense of the phrase — and she could tell he was a little unsettled by it. If she could take it in stride, it would be easier for him.

But her visits through the Mirror Dimension over the past few days to watch over him were turning out to be more challenging than she had anticipated. In all their years together, she'd never seen Steve in anything like the state he'd been in when Fury had brought him back into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Manhattan headquarters after his wild escape to Times Square, having told him how much time had passed while he slept.

Steve hadn't panicked. Hadn't stormed or wept or collapsed: all reactions that might have been expected from anyone under the circumstances, no matter how well-adjusted they might be.

At least, not on the outside.

Instead, he'd gone strangely quiet. The same kind of quiet he'd slipped into that terrible day Bucky had fallen from the train. Except S.H.I.E.L.D. was keeping Steve under such close observation that he wasn't able to escape to nurse his wounds in solitude, the way he so clearly ached to do.

And so he'd spoken to Dr. Stacey and her nurses, and later Fury and Hill, in one-word sentences. He'd stared at the food they kept trying to bring him, and then pushed it away with an ill expression on his face. And the look in his eyes...

Peggy felt sick just thinking about it. She'd never seen Steve's eyes look like that before. She'd seen it in other soldiers. The ones who'd witnessed something so horrific in battle that their own minds blanked it out. Over the years she'd seen Steve angry and sad and everything in between, and she knew how to handle it all, but somehow the nothingness in his eyes was far worse.

No wonder he had always hated to talk about this time. No wonder she had sensed hints of shame from him those times the subject had come up.

It was the first time in his life he'd ever encountered something he didn't know how to face. Something he couldn't fight with his fists, or a sunny attitude, or even a steely resolve. He'd had no defense for it... and no one to guide him through it.

Fury was doing his best. Peggy could see that and be grateful for it, even through her own growing distress. But Steve had responded badly to the therapist Fury assigned him, in no small part because the first time he'd seen her, she'd been dressed up like an SSR agent and attempting to fool him — no matter how briefly or well-intentioned — into thinking he was still in the 1940s. Fury was wise enough to promptly withdraw her and put Maria Hill in charge of Steve's recovery instead. Peggy liked the choice. Hill had a woman's gentleness but also a cool practicality that Steve could appreciate. At least, under normal circumstances.

But Hill hadn't been able to reach him yet, either. It had been three days now, and he still hadn't even slept. When Sarah had taken Peggy yet to check on him this morning — or rather, in the middle of the night, by New York time — they had found him lying in bed in the room S.H.I.E.L.D. had assigned him, staring up at the ceiling in the silence and the darkness, his eyes hollow and exhausted.

Peggy knew her eyes probably looked the same by now. Some compulsion kept driving her to ask Sarah to take her to see him, maybe more often than she should. She knew she couldn't really help him from behind the Mirror, not in any practical sense, but she couldn't seem to look away from his agony, either. She had promised him she wouldn't leave him alone, and each time it was only the knowledge that her own Steve would be missing her — and Sarah's promises each time that she would stay a little longer to watch herself — that could pull her from his side and back through the portal.

If only there could have been two of her, as well!

"Mom. Mom."

Peggy stirred and then squeezed her eyes shut tight in irritation; why on earth was Sarah waking her up so early? It felt as though she had only just fallen asleep. She shifted position to get more comfortable, and then relaxed again as a fresh wave of sleepiness washed over her.

"Mom."

It was like trying to swim to the surface after being submerged deep in water. Peggy sighed heavily and made a conscious effort to grow more alert. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting a little against the brightness of the sunlight filling the room.

Steve's side of the bed was already empty. That was no surprise; lately he had been rising early to work on his art for an hour or so before breakfast. Peggy had meant to get up too and sit with him in the pleasant stillness of the early morning, but apparently she had been sleeping too deeply to even hear him get up.

"Mom?" Sarah said, gently shaking her shoulder again, and when Peggy began to sit up in bed — stiffly — Sarah reached out and gently helped her up into a comfortable sitting position, propped against the pillows.

"I'm on my way to the airport to get Sharon," Sarah said, perching on the side of her bed. Sunlight was streaming in through the window, turning her blonde hair to gold. "But I thought you should know: Captain Rogers finally fell asleep."

"Oh, thank goodness," Peggy said, intense relief washing over her even through the grogginess she was having difficulty shaking off. "Did they find a sleep aid that worked for him?"

"No," Sarah said. "Well, kind of. They found his compass. In the Valkyrie. As soon as he had it back, he-" She paused for a moment. "I could see something change in his eyes," she said at last. "He went for a good long run, and then he managed to eat, and then he finally fell asleep." She smiled at Peggy a little sadly. "I guess all he needed was you."

"He's never been without me," Peggy said.

"I know." Sarah squeezed her hand. "I've got to go. Sharon's flight is landing soon. Mike just got here, and Sammy too. She's setting up in the office. Do you need help with anything?"

"Will you just lay my clothes on the bed, please?"

As soon as she was dressed, Peggy went into the office, still fighting her fatigue. Steve was there, a half-finished sketch on his art table that he was ignoring in favor of watching Sammy set up her equipment on the computer desk with Mike's help.

"You're sure you can do this without being detected?" Peggy asked Sammy a little anxiously as she sat down by Steve and gave his hand a squeeze.

"No problem," Sammy reassured her as she booted up her laptop. "I've got Grandpa here, so that's going to be a big help."

"Since when is he any good at this sort of thing?" Peggy asked, puzzled.

Sammy hesitated. "Well, he knows exactly what kind of security measures S.H.I.E.L.D. puts on their agents' phones in this time period," she said after a beat. "He'll be getting his own soon enough. Or- Captain Rogers will, I mean."

"Tony once went on a long rant to me about how his own security tech was better than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s," Steve added in a wry tone. "I didn't really understand all the terms he was throwing around, but I repeated it all to Sammy and she understood. Looks like he found some gaps that she can exploit."

Peggy frowned; Steve's explanation sounded a little familiar after all. Had they already talked about this? No, surely not, or she would have remembered.

Dave poked his head through the door, holding a loaded plate. "I made breakfast sandwiches," he announced. "Who wants one?"

By the time they were done eating and Sammy had everything set up, they all heard Sarah's car pulling into the driveway. Dave quickly excused himself to head down to work in the lab, and a minute later they heard the sound of luggage being rolled over the tile, and Sharon's voice answering Sarah's in the foyer.

Peggy glanced at Steve. He was keeping his eyes fixed on Sammy's computer screen, even though there was nothing to see there yet. Steve had never before been so close by when Sharon came to call, preferring instead to find someone to visit or some errand to run while she was there. Peggy had never quite understood why. He had been eager to have a glimpse or two of Tony and Nat and Clint over the years. Yet he had never shown the same curiosity for Sharon.

Less than a minute later, Sarah slipped into the office and closed the door behind her. Then she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a phone with a bit of a guilty expression on her face.

"Got it out of her purse," she said a little breathlessly as she handed it to Sammy. "Try to be quick, darling. Can't have her missing it."

"I'll go say hello," Mike said, and he strode out the door. Sarah gave Peggy a helping hand up, and they made their way to the living room more slowly.

By the time they got there Sharon had finished greeting Mike, and she turned to face Peggy with a smile lighting up her face. Peggy, leaning on Sarah's arm, blinked in surprise.

There was no other way to say it: Sharon looked different. It had been a few years since she had come to visit — her S.H.I.E.L.D. duties kept her pretty busy nowadays — and she had grown both older and more lovely since Peggy had seen her last. Her blonde hair was wavy now, and there was an elegance to her clothing that had not been there before: the color and the style and the fit all trendy and perfectly suited to both her figure and coloring. Working in the big city would do that for a young woman, Peggy supposed; after the war she herself had taken a secret delight — having landed a good government job only a train ride away from New York City — in having both the access and the money to patronize the sort of shops she had never been able to buy from before.

Yes, Sharon had certainly come a long way.

"Aunt Peggy," Sharon said gladly, reaching out. Peggy accepted her hug and then pulled back, clasping Sharon's hands in her own.

"So good to see you, Sharon," she said. "How are your parents, darling?"

The four of them sat down in the living room and made small talk for a while. But Peggy could see that Sharon's heart wasn't fully in it by the way her eyes kept flicking over to her suitcase where it sat parked next to her chair. Peggy was as anxious as Sharon must be to get on with the true purpose of this meeting, and so as soon as politeness allowed she deliberately fell silent to let the conversation falter, and Mike and Sarah both followed her cue. Sharon, to her credit, seized the opportunity without hesitation.

"Can I talk to Aunt Peggy alone for a few minutes?" she asked, looking over to Sarah and Mike where they sat side by side on the love seat.

"No," Mike said simply.

Sharon blinked several times, and then looked around at them one by one, more alert: she couldn't fail to notice the strange tension that had suddenly invaded the atmosphere in the room.

"It's... S.H.I.E.L.D. business," she said reluctantly. "Aunt Peggy's eyes only."

"If it's S.H.I.E.L.D. business, then it's our whole family's business," Mike said firmly. "Whatever it is you have to say, the three of us are going to hear it together."

"I... can't," Sharon said, looking confused. "It's my job on the line. You know how it is."

"What Fury doesn't know can't hurt him," Mike said coolly.

Sharon hesitated for a long time. Peggy found herself clutching the arms of her chair too tightly, and forced herself to relax. She had been dreading this moment. She would have to feign surprise at news she had heard more than 60 years ago, but that was the least of it. She would also have to react as an old friend and war comrade would, and not as a wife.

That was going to be more difficult.

Sharon seemed to come to a decision. "This can't leave the room," she said firmly, looking around at the three of them. "You have to promise me."

"I think you'll find that we're very good at keeping secrets in this family," Sarah said quietly.

Sharon unzipped the outer pocket of her suitcase and pulled out a file. Sitting on the edge of her chair, she held the file tight against her chest for a moment.

"Aunt Peggy," she started, "last July, Director Fury decided to reopen an old investigation from your time at S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not exactly sure why — it seems to be above my security clearance — but we had..." She took a deep breath. "We had a search team traveling a grid up in the Arctic, around Greenland, looking for plane wreckage."

Sarah and Mike shifted position on the couch, leaning forward, more alert.

"After a couple of months," Sharon said, "they found a Hydra parasit fighter, one of the flying bombs that Johann Schmidt meant to deploy from his bomber plane, the Valkyrie. The pilot's body was still in it, frozen. It was a big breakthrough. The search team used the position of the fighter to make new calculations of the Valkyrie's flight line, along with everything we know now about the ocean currents and weather patterns in that area, and they narrowed down the search area quite a bit. Our search team even enlisted the help of other people in the vicinity — ships, planes, research stations, everything — and offered a reward if they would keep an eye out.

"About a week ago, a Russian oil tanker spotted something unusual in an ice field. It looked like a man-made structure where there shouldn't be one. They informed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s search team, and when they went to investigate..."

"It was the Valkyrie," Peggy finished softly.

Sharon nodded. "It was the Valkyrie." She watched Peggy closely, as if trying to evaluate how she was handling this.

"What did they find inside?" Sarah asked. Her jaw clenched tightly and suddenly she reached out over the arm of Peggy's chair and took her hand.

"The plane was mostly intact," Sharon said. "One of the wings had snapped off, but they think the fuselage just slid along the surface of the ice field until it came to a stop. Everything inside was still in one piece."

"Aunt Peggy..." she said then, as gently as she could. "They found your friend, Steve Rogers."

Not trusting herself to speak, Peggy waited for a long moment, and then she simply nodded, as silent tears overflowed her eyes and slid down her wrinkled cheeks.

"We looked for him for so long," she said tearfully. "So long."

There was more she had planned to say, but she couldn't seem to get it out. Suddenly all she could see before her was the empty communications room in Schmidt's base, and all she could hear was the static of a radio signal that had been abruptly cut off. Steve's last words were still echoing in her mind.

I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance.

The memory was strangely vivid, more vivid than it had been for her in many, many years. It was so clear that for a disorienting moment she was actually there, more or less. A blink of an eye later and she was back, but now Sarah and Mike were both looking at her from across the room with barely disguised concern.

"He couldn't have been found any sooner than this," Mike said firmly, shooting her a significant look as if trying to prompt her how the conversation was supposed to go. "We know that."

Sharon nodded in ready agreement with him. "I'm sure Howard Stark did everything possible, but he just didn't have the resources he needed," she said.

"It was meant to be," Sarah said, gently squeezing her hand. "You've said so yourself."

"There's more," Sharon said. "And this part, Aunt Peggy... it's a little strange." She took a deep breath.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back to New York," she continued, "they intended to perform an autopsy. But then they noticed some things about his body that confused them. They found-" She hesitated. "-they found signs of life."

Peggy widened her eyes slightly. Yes, that was right. She remembered.

"He was sleeping," she said, and thankfully her voice only cracked a little. "Only sleeping."

"Yes..." Sharon said slowly, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows.

"And they woke him up?" Mike asked. Like Sarah, his jaw was clenched, radiating tension across his face.

"They did," Sharon said. "They revived him. He's... he's healthy and strong. It's like nothing even happened. The doctors can't really explain it, but... he's back with us, alive and well."

Sharon pulled a photograph out of the file and handed it to Peggy. "This was taken several days ago."

Peggy's hand trembled a little as she looked at the photograph. Steve, his expression serious, was looking straight into the camera, wearing modern clothing... and a thousand-yard stare.

It was like being struck in the face. For one blessed moment Peggy had forgotten what waking up had done to him, but in a rush it all came back. All the self-control in the world couldn't stop it: a quiet sob slipped past her lips. Sharon reached over and took one of her hands with tender concern, and Peggy found herself clinging to it tightly.

"He must be so frightened," she said tearfully. Reluctantly, she handed the photograph over for Sarah and Mike to look at.

"They're taking good care of him at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Sharon assured her. "Fury himself is overseeing his recovery. I'm sure it's been a shock for him, but they'll get him settled in eventually. He'll be fine."

"He won't know anyone," Peggy said a little breathlessly. "Anyone or anything, in this time. He's just... alone." Her voice broke on the last word.

"I'm sure if you asked to see him, Fury wouldn't turn you down," Sharon said.

It was what she wanted most in the world, and it was also the one thing that couldn't happen. Not yet. "I think I had better wait until he's ready to see me," Peggy said at last. "I'm not... as he remembers me anymore."

"Whatever you think is best," Sharon said.

Peggy dried her eyes with a handkerchief, and with an effort she squared her shoulders with renewed determination. She had remembered what else she was supposed to tell Sharon. The most important thing of all.

"You'll watch over him for me, of course," she said.

Surprised, Sharon hesitated a moment. "I don't think so, Aunt Peggy. I'm not going to be working with him. I haven't even met him. He's in New York, I'm posted at the Triskelion. Fury just sent me to inform you."

"You'll keep him safe," Peggy said firmly. "You'll protect him."

Sharon laughed lightly. "If everything I've heard about him is true, Aunt Peggy, he hardly needs protecting from someone like me."

"But you will," Peggy said. In her mind's eye she could see the bullets flying through Steve's apartment, plaster walls exploding, Nick Fury falling bloodied to the floor, only feet away from her beloved — and with a shudder she pushed the image away before it could seize upon her too strongly.

"Promise me," she said. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll be on his side."

"I..."

"Promise me, Sharon."

Sharon smiled a little ruefully. "You know I can't tell you no, Aunt Peggy."

Peggy reached out a wrinkled hand and patted Sharon's hand with a sad smile. "I know."

"It's getting worse," Mike said to Sarah when they were alone at last. "Mom's lapses."

She didn't turn around right away, but he saw his sister's shoulders go up and down in a silent sigh before she finished transferring the last of the clean laundry to their parents' closet.

"I know," she said at last, turning to face him. Her expression was sober.

"How serious is it?" he asked.

Sarah set down the laundry basket and sat down on the bed heavily, and Mike sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"It's the early stages of dementia," Sarah said quietly. "She loses a word here and there. Calls someone by the wrong name. Sometimes we have the same conversation two or three times over the course of a few days."

"What kind of a timeline are we looking at?" he asked.

Sarah lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "If she takes very good care of herself? She could have a few more good years still."

Mike absorbed that for a minute. "But it seems like it's accelerating."

"It's the exhaustion," Sarah said flatly. "The symptoms tend to get worse at the end of the day, and she's been burning the candle at both ends since Captain Rogers woke up, trying to watch over him and still be there for Dad, too. It took me a good five minutes to wake her up this morning."

"Then we need to convince her to slow down," Mike said.

Sarah laughed humorlessly. "Good luck with that. It's all I can do to tear her away from his side, even when she's exhausted. And I can't exactly blame her, either. He's really struggling. Captain Rogers, I mean. Even I don't like walking away through that portal. It feels like you're leaving him to fight the darkness alone."

Mike frowned more deeply. "Is it worse than we guessed?"

Sarah shook her head slowly. "I had a pretty good idea all along it was bad. I mean, you've seen how good Dad is at talking people through their problems. He's done it for you, he's done it for me, he's done it for half my kids, and yours. The way he handles those situations — he's not just following the therapeutic textbook. You can tell he's been there. He knows what it's like to despair. I was expecting that, but... it's different, seeing it happen right in front of my eyes. I'm not used to a dad who isn't in control of himself. I'm not used to seeing him so... so young."

"You know, I don't think most people get to see their parents at a younger age than themselves," Mike said dryly.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Most?"

"OK, any."

"We're off the map," Sarah said with a sigh. "Unprecedented times."

"We seem to have a lot of those in our family. So what are we going to do about Mom?"

Sarah rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. "It's time to tell her," she said at last. "If she hasn't already noticed herself. Do some testing and get an official diagnosis. Maybe it will be easier to persuade her to take it easy once she knows the full situation."

"Better talk to Dad first."

"Yeah. He's noticing what's going on. Doesn't seem surprised by it. Only sad."

Mike nodded slowly. "Well, by the time Captain Rogers reunites with her..."

She nodded too. "He'll notice her condition. He's probably known this would happen all along."

They sat in silence for a minute, and then Mike squeezed her shoulder. "How are you doing, sis?"

Sarah pressed her lips together, thinking. "Okay for now," she said at last. "You?"

"Yeah. It's a lot to deal with, but... we have each other to lean on."

She rested her head on her brother's shoulder gratefully. "Always."

The word had hardly left her lips when it occurred to her that maybe that wouldn't always be true. But she ignored the cold thread of fear that thought invited.

One family crisis at a time.

Peggy stared unseeing at the frosted layer of leaves coating the ground of her beloved garden. The trees were nearly bare now, and even the chrysanthemums were blackened and wilting after last night's deep frost.

"Are you sure you're warm enough?" Steve asked anxiously, reaching over to pull her thick sweater more tightly around her.

She wasn't, but at least the chill was keeping her alert despite her exhaustion after all the cognitive tests Sarah had administered to her. Peggy folded her arms across her chest to control her shivering and shook her head slowly.

"Could the timing have been any worse?" she asked him faintly.

Steve took his time answering. "Is there any time that would have been better?" he asked in return.

"Now, don't go talking sense to me." Peggy leaned against him wearily, and he turned to wrap both arms around her. That did feel a little warmer, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder gratefully.

"It's gonna be okay," Steve said.

"How can you say that?" she whispered.

"We'll handle it the way we handle everything. Together."

"But I wanted-" She struggled to contain her emotions. "I wanted to be of help to you."

"You are. Peggy, you are." His voice was vehement. "And you will be."

"How can I?" she demanded. "I can't even trust my own mind."

"Look, you've had a rough week. You haven't had sleep. You'll be sharper tomorrow, after you've rested."

She whispered, "Tomorrow I'll be a 93-year-old woman with Alzheimer's, the same as I am today."

He cradled her close against his chest, stroking her hair with one hand as he sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Peggy. I'm so sorry."

They stayed that way for several minutes of silence, until finally Peggy broke it.

"I've been fortunate to have the health I've had all my life," she whispered. "I shouldn't be ungrateful. I knew it couldn't last forever. But- Oh, darling. Sarah didn't even have to say it: she won't take me through the Mirror whenever I want anymore."

"That's probably for the best."

"But I promised you I wouldn't leave you alone." Anguished, she pulled back to meet his eyes. "Steve, I promised."

"And you're gonna keep that promise," he said firmly. "It just won't look the way you were expecting it to. Peggy, you don't have to do all this yourself. Sharon's gonna be assigned to me pretty soon, and you already have a plan for the others in the family to pitch in, remember?"

"None of that can happen for another six weeks," Peggy objected. "Not until you're back in New York."

Today S.H.I.E.L.D. had moved the younger Steve Rogers from Manhattan Headquarters to the Retreat, a cabin tucked away in the woods far from civilization. Fury clearly wanted Captain America away from any prying eyes that might recognize him before S.H.I.E.L.D. was ready to reveal him to the world. By now it was obvious that Steve's trauma from his reawakening wouldn't be quickly resolved, and besides, he clearly had a lot of catching up to do before he could function in the modern world. The Retreat was the logical place for him to recover and learn the skills he would need in this time period.

But security around the Retreat was heavy. There was no way for them to check on Steve there except through the Mirror Dimension, and it would be December before S.H.I.E.L.D. would release him to live on his own in a Manhattan apartment. At that point, the family could begin their anonymous visits to him.

Peggy was determined that leaving him alone until then was out of the question. In the next few days the younger Steve Rogers would get an official diagnosis of his own: post-traumatic stress disorder. It went without saying that he was far less prepared for this development than Peggy had been to get her own diagnosis. She had had years to come to terms with her own long, slow decline; at least, the weakening of her body. Even so, it had been a shock for her this morning when Sarah had gently explained to her just how forgetful she had become lately. The revelation had been humiliating. And terrifying.

After a lifetime of honing her self-control to a fine edge, learning that she could no longer trust even her own perceptions was like having the rug pulled out from beneath her feet. How was she supposed to lead the family like this? How was she supposed to even take care of herself, much less anyone else?

How much worse must it be for Steve, who was young and had every reason to expect his own health and strength? If it was hard for Peggy to admit that she must now accept more help from her family to function on a daily basis — and it most certainly was — how much harder would it be for Steve to accept help from a pack of strangers at S.H.I.E.L.D. who didn't know him or love him, at least not beyond a vague, abstract admiration for a man who had long ago saved their grandparents' lives?

"We can't leave you alone," she whispered.

"I know," he said gently.

Peggy pressed her lips together and then lifted her chin with determination.

"I'm going to call the family-" she started, and then — with an almost physical pain, she amended what she had been about to say — "I'm going to have Mike and Sarah call another family meeting. So I can- So we can decide how to handle this."

He rubbed her back in response, and his hand felt warm even through the thick layer of her sweater.

"I think that's a good idea," he said.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's note: I'd love to know what you think! Leave a review, good bad or ugly!