Chapter 19 of In Love & War

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among objects:
Nothing mattered or had a name:
The world was made of air, which waited.
I knew rooms full of ashes,
Tunnels where the moon lived,
Rough warehouses that growled 'get lost',
Questions that insisted in the sand.
Everything was empty, dead, mute,
Fallen abandoned, and decayed:
Inconceivably alien, it all
Belonged to someone else - to no one:
Till your beauty and your poverty
Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.
Pablo Neruda, XXV Sonnet

She felt the thick mahogany behind her back as he pressed her into the wall, his lips finding hers as they met in an euphoric fountain of desperation. Her hands grasping his hair, his knee pushing between her legs, his hands fully massaging her breast through her blouse – it was exhilarating. It was exfoliating all the hours she'd spent by Vanessa's bed, holding her hand and watching her die. It was the sweetness of forgetting. The art of it. If his tongue continued its rhythmic movements in and out of her mouth, she might be saved. The tears that mingled with her saliva might not be real.

He pulled back, panting and blind with lust.

"What do you want Blair?" He demanded and licked her cheek sensually – making her eyes roll back.

She was incoherent.

"Tell me what you fucking want," he whispered harshly, his eyes never leaving her face. There was a darkness crossing his gaze that she'd never seen and never wanted to see again but, in this moment of drowning and yearning, she needed that look from him. She hungered for it.

"I – I want you," she managed to gasp out, even though his knee was kneading her groin and sending her hips bucking forward. She was pulling him down for more kisses; more intoxicating tongue action, but he stood his ground, still glaring down at her.

"Just me?" He demanded.

An angry shadow covered her face, and she reeled back, her hazy mind understanding his desperate need for reassurance that still pissed the hell out of her. So she shoved him and shoved him hard, pushing him into his/their room until he fell back on the bed. Without preamble, without warning, she yanked his zipper down and shoved her panties to the side and lowered herself onto him. Claiming him, making him hers. All hers.

If this was the game he wanted to play, she was as fucked up as he was to play it. It was dark, it was twisted, but it was real. He was looking at her with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, unable to comprehend what she was doing. He was rock hard and arching his hips to meet her frantic thrusts as they took over his control and his sanity.

Wild passionate lovers they were. As she clamped around him, he grasped her hips and soon he was spilling into her, letting out a yell of abandon, full of anger and hurt pride.

His best friend's wife was dead in the room next door. He came again and harder this time.

When neither had anything left in them, she slumped on top of him, her bones now jelly and her soul withered into a stalk of a painful nothing. She remembered watching a movie as a child about a boy who read a book and became part of the story. In the story, the fantasy world was being devoured by the Nothing. The Nothing destroyed everything until nothing was left, because people didn't believe in things anymore. An empty vessel.

Can you feel love when you don't believe in it? When the world around you is so very empty that it contaminates you until all that is left is a void? Can it truly happen? How can a world once filled with such lovely things be so very sad?

She fell asleep there, on top of him, with him inside of her and fully clothed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her there, his own eyes drifting to that dull, empty place.

He dimly wondered if this was mourning. If it was… He hated it.

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She knew she was dreaming, but the dream was so very wonderful and real that she wanted it to continue for years to come.

It was the week after her ninth birthday that her mother had her long curls cut. They had been thick and long, going way past her waist. Dorota would pull them back with thick ribbons her father had brought in from Paris. But her mother claimed that a short bob was all the rage in Milan and all the little girls were wearing their brown hair right past their chin. So Blair, in an effort to please her mother and show her how cultured and perfect she was, dialed Jacques, her stylist, and demanded he make a house call.

So Jacques had chopped off her chestnut curls, making them fall effortlessly to the floor of her giant bathroom. At first she was happy and content with her new look. Jacques had styled it just as her mother described, and she felt grown up. Like a modern Natalie Wood. Graceful and European.

When her mother had arrived from her trip to Rome, she had chosen her best outfit: a French design her mother had hand-picked for her a few weeks before. Dorota had adorned her hair with a lovely matching navy blue with white poker dots bow. She was elegant and fresh – her mother would fawn all over her new look.

But Eleanor, after a ten hour flight and after countless meetings over her new Spring line, was exhausted and ready for a couple of Valiums, Dorota's white tea with lavender, and her luxurious bed. So Blair had sat and waited, poised and perfect, her legs crossed at the right angle, and her little hands folded before her. Her back was straight and her new hair was arranged perfectly. She had a bright smile on her face when her mother stepped off the elevator, and her heart soared when Eleanor's eyes focused on her.

"Why are you still up?" She asked Blair, and Blair's soul deflated a little. Her hair. Her new hair…

"Daddy went to dinner with some bankers, and I stayed to wait up for you. Perhaps we can have some of Dorota's sugar free cheesecake like we love –"

"Oh, darling – I'm so tired," Eleanor cut her off. "Maybe tomorrow, after my meeting with Caroline."

"I thought you had the Saks presentation also –"

"Yes, yes I do. Thank you for reminding me." And her mother walked to her and kissed her head. Blair was sure her mother would comment on her hair now, comment on how lovely she looked. "Goodnight, darling."

And she had walked away, her assistant fluttering behind her and Dorota fluttering before her, nodding at her requests.

Little Blair Waldorf had sat on her chaise attempting to understand what had happened. Had her mother not seen her new hair? Had she cut her beloved, long curls for nothing? Did she do something wrong? She just didn't understand.

Her phone rang next to her, and she looked at the caller ID. 'Chuck Bass'. She groaned and rolled her eyes, intent on ignoring his call. He liked to call her entirely too much, and she was not in the mood for Chuck Bass. She wanted to throw a fit in her room and perhaps watch her favorite film.

Serena was in the Alps, skiing with her mother's new boyfriend, the European investor. Nate was in Connecticut with his grandparents, and she was left all alone with Chuck Bass. Really! Even Georgina would've been a better replacement, but Georgie was in Chicago with her aunt and cousin (whom she claimed she had kissed).

Her phone rang again, and she continued to ignore it as she stewed in her anger. That was when the elevator door opened and out walked the very dapper and overly confident Chuck Bass.

Really! Had he no class? No he hadn't.

She was very unhappy with him, but secretly pleased. She didn't want to be alone, and she could dimly hear her mother yelling at everyone to leave her be. Young Chuck Bass smirked when he saw her all poised and polished.

"Waiting for me?" He drawled, and she rolled her eyes. He swaggered to her, his hands stuck in his pockets, and his overly happy bowtie seemingly leering at her.

"Chuck," she greeted, and his smirk widened.

"I called – tried to warn you," he explained, and she looked away. That was when he noticed her hair. His eyes softened, and she observed him, wanting to know his reaction. Did she really look that horrible?

"New look?" He asked, coming closer and inspecting her hair.

She blushed under his gaze, because he always stared at her unabashedly.

"It's all the rage in Milan," she snapped.

His smirk continued as he circled her like a shark would its prey.

"I bet it is," he drawled, and she fumed silently, but never let go of her lady-like image.

"Why are you here, Bass?" She asked wearily.

He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Bored," he replied. She arched a brow. Leave it to Chuck Bass to come bother Blair Waldorf when bored.

"Where's your dad?" She asked him.

"I don't know," he said in his most uncaring voice, and she knew it was the furthest thing from the truth. Because Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf always knew exactly where their parents were. They knew their schedule better than their own. Between piano lessons, pony rides, and endless lessons, they kept tabs on their emotionally unavailable parents.

Just as she now sat on her chaise, deflated and upset with life because of the latest slight, he was probably just as alone. His father had probably passed by and uttered a hello and a comment on his grades, and retired with his latest 20-year old conquest. And there he had been left, all suited up, hair combed and no father.

"Want to play chess?" She asked suddenly.

His ears perked up.

"You always lose," he replied, but she knew he wanted to play as much as she did. She rose with her own smirk and elegantly walked up the stairs, and he followed dutifully.

"I can see your panties," he drawled behind her, and she stopped, glaring down at him.

"Why are you looking?" She demanded, turning a shade of pink she didn't care to admit.

"They match," he commented, smirk still planted on his little face.

"You are a perv," she narrowed her eyes and continued up the stairs, but this time she placed her small hand on the back of her skirt to make sure he didn't get any more peepshows.

"You are a tease."

She woke startled. The memory was so old, she had most likely forgotten it. She sighed and ran her hand over her face and turned to her husband… But he was gone.

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When he had gone to sleep with her on top of him, he had, at first, fallen into a dreamless state. But then memories began to haunt him.

She had also fallen asleep on top of him after a serious make out session in which he showed her the joys of oral sex. She had a small smile on her face; her small fist was curled up and tucked under his chin, holding on to his collar. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her make up was long gone and so was her decency. He knew any moment she would wake and grab her clothes, shouting obscenities at him, and he would see her huffing and puffing about her virtue.

But he liked her like this – just like this. On him, with him, all for him. Nathaniel the last man on her mind after he had left her spent and satisfied. He, Chuck Bass, had made Blair Waldorf lose all reason and decency. Him.

It was downright titillating.

She stirred and slowly came to life, his little porcelain doll. She'd always been his porcelain doll. Boys were not supposed to want dolls, weren't supposed to want to play with any, but Chuck Bass had always had a doll, and her name was Blair Waldorf. She had always dressed in stifling dresses and shiny black shoes, always perfect, always poised with a poison tongue that sent whiplashes his way whenever she saw fit. He loved and enjoyed it. Always enjoyed their moments.

"What time is it?" She has asked, pushing herself off him, her small hand pressing against his chest as she yawned.

"Twelve forty," he replied easily, stretching out on his bed.

"Oh, my God!" She scrambled and, sure enough, her virtue was about to flutter.

"I thought we'd go for round four," he smirked, watching as she slipped her skirt over her hips and zipped it up. She cast a dark look his way.

"I don't think so," she snapped. "This is not happening again."

"See you at seven, then?" He drawled, and she threw a pillow at him.

Of course, she had allowed him to pick her up at seven. He drove her to a small, secluded Italian restaurant in Harlem where no one knew them, and they ate their homemade lasagna in peace… Peace meaning arguments that ended up with more sex in the limo. It had been their one and only date.

When he woke, he was covered with her. Her hair was on him, his hands, her body – he was still in her. He shifted and slowly rolled her over. He let out a breath as she sighed happily in her sleep. He glanced at her and saw her once more, his porcelain doll.

His kryptonite.

Creator and destroyer.

Soft and hard, friend and wife. He swallowed and looked away and, in the distance, he heard the distinguished cry of a baby. The lump was back in his throat, burning at him. Slowly, he extracted himself from the bed and zipped his pants up, casting a look towards the beauty in his bed. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, so he carefully walked to her, bent down, and pulled her skirt down, covering her up as she stirred softly in her sleep.

He had absolutely and completely fallen in love with her, and he was no longer denying it. He would die for her; he would give up all he had for her. So he bent down and kissed her forehead, making her mumble his name. He smirked softly.

"Tease," he whispered and walked out of the room.

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He was gone. He was gone. He was gone. She couldn't think of anything else. She sat up and jumped off the bed. She heard the cry of a baby, and reality came faster than ever.

Where was he? Halfway to Saudi Arabia? Her heart was beating like her life was ending – which it most likely was. If he had left her all alone, her life would end.

She loved him and needed to tell him, needed to tell him now and make him believe it. Make him understand that ever since he was that little boy in the playground with asthma and a pale face, she had cared for him. She had to tell him because he belonged to her like she belonged to him.

She slipped on her shoes, threw her light blue afghan around her shoulders, and ran down the hall, cursing the waterworks that were now a staple of her days.

"Chuck!" She cried out and the maids were staring at her like she'd lost her mind. She grabbed one of them. "Where is he?" She demanded, and they shyly pointed in the direction of his study. Without preamble, she ran to it and burst through the door, finding him hunched over a map with Jacob next to him.

Both men, startled, looked up from the large desk and focused on her untidy appearance. Chuck's brows furrowed in concern as he straightened up and stared at her.

"I – I need to talk to you," she stammered. Jacob pushed his glasses up and nodded, leaving them alone.

Blair looked behind her, making sure Jacob had closed the door, and then turned to Chuck, who had stuck his hands in his pockets and was looking blank and unassuming.

Without waiting for his reaction, she ran to him and embraced him, holding him close.

He was certainly taken aback, but quickly held her to him, placing his cheek over her head and holding her close. She sighed into him.

"You were gone," she whispered, and he rocked her slightly.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he assured her, pulling her head back and staring at her.

His eyes were the soft caramel color she loved and enjoyed because it spoke volumes as to what he was feeling. Feelings of her own bubbled over, and she smiled, opening her mouth to say what she had wanted to say for so very long, but the door was thrown open, making them both jump up, startled.

It was Jacob.

"A moment –" Chuck chided.

"The army." Jacob's face was hard as stone. "We've been breached."

Blair felt she was crumbling. Truly crumbling. Behind Jacob, Dorota appeared, rocking the crying Melanie in her arms and looking desperately at Blair.

Too many things. Just too many things.

Chuck let go of Blair and walked to Jacob. "How many?"

Jacob swallowed as his wide eyes met Chuck's. "About three dozen."

Blair reached out and held onto the desk. "Let's go! Let's hide," she urged them. "They don't know you're here. We can get you and the rest of the young men out of here before they even find you –" Blair spoke frantically, her eyes hard as she tried to block out the sad and lonely cries of Melanie.

They heard screams from some of the house maids and Blair knew, in that moment, that it was too late. Chuck's eyes locked with hers.

"…I'm going to ask things of you I never wanted to."

And she saw it then. Beyond their control, beyond this magical illusion he had created, the world was still very much on fire. They just didn't see the smoke. Life went on, people died, people they knew and cared about died, and they stayed in the illusion. And the illusion was ending. Vanessa, inadvertently, had been the catalyst, but it was bound to happen one way or another.

All good things can and will come to an end. Because you can hide for only so very long before you have to grow up.

Their gaze was interrupted by the butler, who scrambled to Chuck.

"Sir, the captain of the guard is demanding to see you," he huffed out.

Chuck slowly closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Jefferson."

She was shaking.

He turned to her. "I want you to stay inside. I don't want you to see."

One last lingering look and he stalked out the door with Jacob fast at his heels as he hissed instructions.

Blair stayed rooted in the spot before scrambling after him, her breath coming shorter and shorter in the chaos that was her mind. They were taking him away.

No one was returning, they were taking him away from her, and she hadn't even told him how she felt. She could faint and lose it, or she could fight.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota chided after her, but Blair was resolute.

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Chuck Bass was never a fighter. When the rumors of the war had begun, he dimly thought of the possibility of being taken and made to fight. He had thought at that time that his money would get him out of it. But things within the governments and the alliances had deteriorated so quickly that he was certain his only option was to hide out until things settled.

He remembered he had once been teased because of his short stature by a bully in the playground, and Nathaniel had stood up to him, and it had cause a huge fight between five boys. Five boys that were not Chuck Bass because Chuck Bass was hiding behind a large maple tree. Nathaniel had walked away with a scraped knee, a bloody nose, and a doting Blair. Chuck Bass promised himself he would never hide again and, here he was, decades later, hiding. Well, he wasn't going to hide anymore.

The time to be a hero was now, and he had a mission. A very specific mission to repay a long forgotten and long overdue favor.

The moment he stepped out onto the front porch, his coat flapped opened and he felt the cold air hit his face. Before him stood ten men on horses and several more on foot. There was two carriages and they all had guns.

The village was all out – he noticed some of his villagers had been arrested or drafted, call it what you might. There was women crying, and he knew exactly how many men were hiding. Old Jonas was standing with a long rifle in his hand, and he quickly walked to Chuck.

"On your orders, sir." He nodded to Chuck.

"At ease, soldier," Chuck replied and faced the Captain. "I assume you're not here for crackers and tea, or the fresh sea air."

The Captain's horse whined and stomped its foot. The Captain's mouth was hidden under a thick black mustache and a grim glare.

"Charles Bass, by the authority vested in me by the North American and European Alliance, I hereby request your services in the armed forces for five years, or until otherwise needed," he said automatically. "I also request the services of all the young men under the age of thirty that are able to serve without physical impediments."

Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets. "I can't account for other men, but I will gladly go with you if you are to leave my home, this village, and my family alone."

The Captain shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir."

Chuck's nostrils flared.

"Section forty-one of the North American and European Alliance states that any supplies that can be afforded to the service of the armed forces can and will be confiscated for the use of the defense," he narrated.

"Are you going to leave these people to starve? Women and children? Elderly?" Chuck snapped, his eyes angry. "With winter coming?"

The Captain cocked his head. "The government will be distributing supplies and food on a daily basis –"

"Bread and water," Chuck interrupted him. "That's not food."

"These are hard times," the Captain grunted and motioned to his second in command. About seven men walked to the food storage building, and Chuck yelled for them to stop.

"Stand back!" The Captain shouted at him and pulled out his gun. This set many things in motion. For starters, Jonas cocked his weapon and pointed it at the Captain, which lead to five other soldiers pointing their guns at Jonas. Which led to some of Chuck's men pulling out their weapons and pointing them all at the soldiers and, before Chuck knew it, it was a Mexican stand off. Chuck's hands were up, pointing at Jonas and his men. They all stared at one another.

It was quiet as everyone stared at everyone else and no one backed down.

"Jonas…" Chuck commanded. "Down."

Slowly Jonas, glaring harshly at the Captain, lowered his rifle.

Chuck motioned to his other men. "Down."

The Captain nodded at his soldiers, and they all slowly put away their weapons.

"No one needs to get hurt," Chuck said. "I, for one, have been shot enough times to last me a lifetime."

The Captain nodded, agreeing.

"Take the food, and I will go quietly. But no one. No one. Gets hurt. Including the women," his jaw twitched, and his eyes never left the captain, who slowly nodded, understanding what Chuck was saying.

The rest of the soldiers came out of the food storage with bags of food on their shoulders, and they threw in boxes and bags into one of the carts they carried. Chuck watched with hooded eyes.

Then three soldiers carefully walked forward to escort Chuck to where the rest of the men from the village were being held.

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Blair dashed through he home with Dorota in tow, and her eyes scanned the surrounding area. That's where she spotted Jacob behind the front door, his eyes closed and his body slumped against the wood.

She walked to him with a determined stride.

"Where is he?" She demanded, and he instantly stood up and held her at arm's length.

"Shh!" He demanded, and that was when she knew. They were right outside. She walked around him and peered out of the window by the door, her eyes wide. There was Chuck, talking to a soldier on horseback that seemed to be in charge. They traded some power-struggle words, and she noticed how stiff Chuck's shoulders were. She was anxious as she watched him, and then she yelped when everyone seemed to suddenly pull out guns.

Jacob stood behind her and placed his hand over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. He assured her that Chuck would handle it, though he didn't seem too sure of himself.

Then the atmosphere relaxed, and Blair watched as bags and boxes were taken from the food storage while Chuck looked on angrily.

And then three soldiers came forward and escorted Chuck away, and she felt she would die right there and there. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment.

She pushed a startled Jacob off her and rushed to open the door, startling all the men who watched Chuck being pushed into the carriage.

"That's my husband!" She cried with all the strength her voice could muster.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, including Chuck. He stared at her with wide eyes as she ran to him. Her afghan flew off her shoulders and floated in the wind as she rushed down the stairs. Her hair, which had been in a loose bun, unhinged itself and cascades of brown curls fell down her back, and she thought that if this was his heroic moment, she could also have a heroine moment.

"That's my husband!" She repeated and rushed forward, pushing a stunned soldier aside and throwing herself on Chuck. He was as startled as everyone else, but before he was able to recuperate, the Captain had come to his senses. Dorota and Jacob had rushed out of the door and stared in horror.

"Stand back!" He yelled at her. "Stand back or you will be arrested for obstruction of justice!"

Blair held on tighter to Chuck. "No!" She yelled as one arm grabbed her waist and started pulling her off. "No!"

"Stop it!" Chuck cried, shaking himself out of his trance. "Get your hands off her!"

"Calm her down!" The Captain ordered to his soldiers. "Calm her - get her!"

"Miss Blair!" Dorota shouted, appalled at what they were doing to Blair, but Jonas held her back as baby Melanie continued to sob.

"Don't touch her!" Chuck demanded, pushing the man off with all of his might when he yanked Blair's hair back. "You son of a bitch!"

Chuck quickly grabbed Blair and held her to him, shielding her from the rest of the men.

"Give me a moment!" Chuck begged the Captain. "Let me say goodbye to my wife, please!"

The Captain stared at the shaking and crying Blair and finally nodded, his features hard and terse. "Five minutes," he informed themand moved his horse.

Chuck swallowed and pulled Blair to the side so they could have some privacy. She was shaking and crying.

"Listen to me – listen," his voice shook. "I need you to be brave. I need you look after all these people. I need you to." He pushed her hair back as she stared at him with wide eyes. "I need you to fight like the lioness I know you are."

Blair's face crumbled as her hands held onto his face, their breath on one another.

"I'll look after them… But who'll look after me?" She sobbed.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her there. "There are things I need to do."

She stared at him, breathing in and out. "You're going after him, aren't you?" She demanded. He said not a word because the answer was in his eyes.

He glanced at the crying baby in Dorota's arms. "I need you to look after the baby."

She swallowed and nodded.

"There's a secret food storage in the basement, don't let them take it," he whispered in her ear. "I will come back. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I will come back." He whispered. He touched her face. "Now… Kiss me like you love me."

She gasped. "I do love you."

His face fell, and her lips were on him, pouring all of the repressed love into it until she felt empty, like a deflated balloon.

He had heard her correctly. At least he thought he said. She had confessed her love. Twenty years of knowing her, and she was finally confessing love.

He held her closer because she was, at this moment, the most precious thing in the world to him. She pulled back and stared at him.

"Everything is under your name, you have complete jurisdiction over all my goods – "

"I never wanted it," she grasped at him.

"I gave it to you regardless –"

"Thirty seconds," the Captain shouted at them.

" – in case of anything –"

"Please, please don't go –" she begged.

"No choice this time," he attempted a smile, but it only made her cry harder. He touched her face. "I'll see you later."

"No!" She gasped and held on to him.

"Fifteen seconds!"

"Will you marry me?" He asked suddenly, and there was a certain desperation to his voice, as if this was the last time he would hold her, the last time he would feel her.

"I already have –"

"Not for the money, or for some fleeting emotion, but because we love one another – " he insisted.

"Yes, a million times yes! …You love me?" she asked confused.

He smiled and kissed her, his eyes were soft and very sad, and it broke her heart. Her heart was breaking at an astronomical pace.

"For years now."

She let out a sob and held on to him, and suddenly the soldiers were pulling him off, and she was making a completely unladylike spectacle as Jonas held her back. Chuck was pulled from her grasp, their fingers holding on by a thread, and then the touch was gone. He was being pulled away from her, her life, her soul. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She was going to collapse, she just knew it.

Their eyes were still locked as they shoved him into a carriage and his eyes remained on her as they moved the entire troop out of the village. She watched him; they watched one another, until his head was a dot in the horizon.

And then she fainted because life was too fucking sad.

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To be continued

A/N - As you can see there's still story to tell; it's definetly going to be over 20 chapters despite my best efforts to condense all I had planned for the story. I think we still have like 3-4 chapters left. I think. Thank you all, once more for all the feedback, I hope you enjoy the coming episodes :)