Author's Soundtrack:
When I'm Small by Phantogram
Honesty by Fink (line break)
Chapter Two
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Our flight will be landing in twenty minutes. Please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened until the Captain has turned off the seat belt light. We're expected to pass through a storm system moving over the city, so our landing may be a little rough. I hope you brought your umbrellas as the local area is expected to get several inches of rain. Local time is 1 PM."
Fire caressed the exterior of the shuttle as it broke through the atmosphere of the Eastern Star. Brilliant flames sparked and flickered with life before being extinguished as the ship slowed to entry speed. The wing took up the majority of Joan's view out the small circular window, but beyond it she could make out the soft, hazy glow of the planet's mesosphere fading into the clear blue of the midday sky. Joan couldn't help but admit it was a beautiful sight that seemed unchanged despite the passage of time. It greeted her with its serenity, welcoming her with its warmth, but it was a façade. The ominous storm system stirring menacingly below, as if in warning, was a more honest reflection of what waited for her on the surface.
The ship was swallowed by the darkening storm clouds, rain pelting the window and violent bolts of lightning streaking across the sky. The woman in the seat beside her stared fearfully out the window, simpering every time the sky flashed and the aircraft shivered. Closing the shade, Joan offered her a comforting smile before leaning back in her seat without concern. Rather than being nervous, Joan appreciated the occasional jostle, convincing herself that it was the ship that was shaking and not her.
The storm continued to rage as Joan stepped out of the airport, bag in hand. Unfortunately, it didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.
Sighing, Joan wished she'd brought more than her raincoat or had bothered to purchase one of the thousands of umbrellas from the stores inside the airport before exiting. Thirty seconds exposed to the torrential downpour and her coat would be utterly useless. But, it would have to do for now. She needed to get to the police department and meet with Detective Akatsuki. There was still a day's worth of catch-up to be done and she didn't want to waste anymore time than was necessary. When she was settled at the hotel she could work on buying anything she needed.
Eyeing the line taxis for one that was available, Joan's gaze froze on a familiar figure standing beside a sleek black Bentley. Her heart stuttered with surprise and an emotion she chose not to identify, both quickly replaced with annoyance. Not bothering to ponder why he was even there, Joan hurried to open the door to one of the closest available cabs, hoping he hadn't spotted her.
His warm hand wrapped around her wrist. His grip was light, but it burned like fire and she yanked it away. Instinctively, her eyes scanned the area for the tell tale signs of cameras.
He chuckled. "Don't worry, Joan. I made sure no one knew I was coming."
Joan narrowed her eyes, her irritation growing at his amusement. This was not a laughing matter. "What are you doing here, Caeden?"
"Miss, if you're not going to use the cab, please step aside," the cabbie politely informed her, his eyes watching potential fares pass him by.
"She won't be needing it," Caeden stated with his usual, handsome smile.
"Yes, I will," Joan shot back. "Just give me a minute."
Seeing the tension between the pair, the cabbie nodded and slipped back into his car, turning the light on the roof of his car off.
"I can take you to your hotel-"
"That's not necessary," Joan snapped. Her eyes darted around the loading area once again before landing on Caeden. "I have other places to go, and don't dodge my question."
"Did you honestly think I was going to let you come back here alone?" He asked, his tone incredulous as he took a step towards her. "As soon as I heard you were coming, I booked a flight."
That fluttering of her heart returned, but she was quick to stomp it down. What he had done was not okay, no matter how good his intentions were. That was the problem with Caeden, despite being one the most intelligent people she knew, he didn't always think things through. He acted on whims without regard for himself or others. In times, it was sweet, in others, it was dangerous.
Right now, it was meddlesome.
"I appreciate your concern, but there was no reason for that. I'll be fine." Joan opened the cab door, which was promptly shut by Caeden. She took a deep breath. This wasn't a fight she wanted to have. Not now. Not again. "Caeden, I'm here for work - you know, that thing you should be doing right now?"
The sharp glare of her gaze didn't seem to affect him, though it never really had. Instead, he shrugged and leaned against the side of the cab, intentionally blocking the handle and any attempt she might have made to escape. "The company pretty much runs itself. It won't miss me for a couple of weeks."
Eyes wide, Joan stared at Caeden. "A couple of weeks? Not even considering how ridiculous that sounds, even for you, I have no idea how long I'm going to be here. Investigations can take months - years." And considering how long the killers had been active, and their terrible run of luck, Joan was willing to bet on the latter.
"I'll be here as long as you need me."
Frustration rising, Joan scowled. She didn't have time for this argument and she certainly didn't have the energy to deal with the trouble that often followed Caeden Julian.
"Go. Home."
Patience spent, she tried to shoulder him out of the way, but he wouldn't budge. Ready with another reprimand, Joan glared up at Caeden only for her anger to dissipate. Etched into his handsome features were expressions of worry and hurt. Unwillingly, her hand lifted to caress the crinkle in his brow, a tender gesture from the old days. As he leaned into it, her heart thrummed.
There was a clicking of a camera, and Joan was jolted back to reality. Head snapping in the direction of the sound, she was relieved to see it was just a group of tourists taking pictures of a landmark in the distance.
Caeden's hand touched her cheek, as he softly called her name. Suddenly realizing how close they were, Joan sucked in a breath and took an immediate step back. She didn't have time for this, for falling into Caeden's orbit and what used to be. All of her focus needed to be on the case and finding Alec's killer.
Hand hanging in the air where she had once stood, Caeden followed her with his eyes before letting it drop to his side. "Why won't you let me help you?"
The pain in his voice was like a knife to the heart, sharp, direct, and twisted. It was almost difficult to remind herself why she needed to keep her distance, why pushing him away was best for everyone involved.
"This isn't something you can help with," she told him, pushing aside the feelings he invoked and sharpening the edge to her voice. "Go home before Rebecca or someone else notices you're gone."
The name was enough to shock him into mobility. He stood, a question on his lips and furrow in his brow. She used the opportunity to pry the cab door open and slip inside, locking the latch behind her. The cabbie watched in the rearview mirror with concern as Caeden yanked on the handle, but Joan directed him to take her to the police department. Without needing further prompting, he started to drive off, leaving Caeden to call after her. She kept her eyes on the road ahead and tried to reorient herself.
There was no room for Caeden right now, and everything he brought with him. Right now, there was only room for her investigation. Only the victims.
By the time the cab pulled up to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Caeden had been successfully forced from her mind and she was ready to get to work.
Paying the cabbie, and tipping him generously to make up for the earlier scene with Caeden, Joan slung her duffle over her shoulder and hurried to the entrance of the station. The building itself was quite large, with over 15 floors, and boasted a pleasantly landscaped entrance that provided her some shelter from the ever raging storm as she pushed through the doors. Her own department was rather small in comparison, and not as nearly well looked after due to budget constraints.
Shaking the excess rain from her coat, she approached the receptionist's desk and asked for Detective Akatsuki.
While she waited for him to arrive, she couldn't help but notice the curious glances sent her way. It could have been because she looked like a drowned rat, her blonde hair matted from the rain and plastered to her face and clothes nearly soaked through, or because she was a Westerner. Either way, she paid them no mind, distracting herself with checking her email on her phone. She ignored the five missed calls from Caeden.
"So we meet again."
Joan looked up from her phone, apology on her lips for being distracted that quickly died when she saw who was addressing her.
His face more defined, black hair cut short to a professional length instead of loosely framing his handsome face. Dressed in slick black slacks, a bold choice of a light lavender button down, and a smart black vest, she almost didn't recognize him as the boy she had met all those years ago during her last visit.
"Well I'll be damned," she whispered in shock. The detective cracked and amused grin.
"Quite the small world isn't it?" He observed, still smiling.
"The name was familiar, but I didn't think…" Joan continued to gawk for a moment before collecting herself. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. It's a pleasure to see you again."
Mitsu took the hand she offered him. "You too, although I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Agreed."
There was a lot to be said between them, but Joan kept quiet as Mitsu guided her to his office on the fifth floor. As he closed the door, however, she took a seat and voiced the one thing she had been wanting to say for the past 10 years.
"I don't think I ever thanked you for what you and your friends did that night."
Mitsu offered her a glass of water before settling into his chair behind his desk, his expression dour. "We don't deserve your gratitude. We should have never lost sight of them to begin with."
"No," Joan said with a gentle shake of her head, "they weren't your responsibility, they were mine. And even after I left, you tried to keep track of them, to find them when they disappeared on you."
It was embarrassing to remember, but Joan had first believed Mitsu and his friends were responsible. That they had taken advantage of her friends and killed them. They were, after all, the last one sot be seen with Amelia and Elisa. They had been strangers who had already proven themselves capable of violence, and her broken heart and mind had chosen to ignore the kindness and concern she had seen in all of them. But Detective Kohaku, the lead on the case, informed her that Amelia and Elisa had given the boys the slip and that they had spent the night morning looking for them. Girls they hadn't known for more than a fraction of the night and they had scoured the area for them until the police found them. They had done more than most and she had blamed them without hesitation.
"Anyone would have done the same."
She wasn't so certain about that, but she wasn't there to recount the past. Glancing at the boxes sitting beside his desk, Mitsu reached for one and pulled from it a pile of files.
"I assume you've made yourself familiar with the Uchika Kenichi case?" He asked, offering the files to her. Inside were detailed documents and an assortment of photographs.
"Yes," she said as she looked through some of the photos. They were of the crime scene itself. Uchika's body had been dumped in a heavily used alley, making it difficult for Mitsu's team to identify relevant evidence to the case, many of the samples they collected compromised or useless. It would have been beneficial to exam in the body, but the departments had taken far too long to negotiate their partnership and the family demanded to have the body returned to them for burial. Thankfully, the crime scene photographer had taken ample images. "The degree of torture seems less intense, less personal. In the cases on the Western Star, the killer seemed focused on tailoring his brutality to each victim. With Uchika, it seems almost...basic."
"Perhaps this protégé doesn't enjoy the torture as much as his master, or maybe he's still learning."
Furrowing her brow, Joan considered Mitsu's suggestion, but something nagged at her. If the protégé didn't care for the torture, why would the master select him? It risked the legacy he wanted to build. The learning curve seemed more likely, but…
"What did the autopsy indicate?"
Mitsu dug through some of the documents before pulling out the autopsy report. "The tools used were definitely different than the cases on the Western Star, and considering the torture wasn't as...thorough, it's difficult to determine if the methods used were similar. It really is like a completely separate person is killing these people."
If not for the details that made it impossible for a copycat, Joan would have thought the same. And yet, the more she studied the results of Mitsu's investigation so far, the more she became convinced that this was a different person, unrelated to the first. The only things that tied them together were the torture and the carvings in the forehead.
Were they going in circles?
"Perhaps you should investigate the copycat angle, and I'll work it from the protégé angle," Joan suggested.
Mitsu looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose that's not a terrible idea. It will keep our perspectives open for other possibilities until the evidence points us in another direction."
What they needed, however, was more evidence. Alec and Uchika's bodies had been combed for as much information as possible. There was nothing left.
But that meant more bodies, and Joan was not particularly keen on losing another person just so they could get more information.
"Maybe we're missing something," Joan mumbled to herself.
"Well, perhaps we should dig in and see what we can find."
She'd been over the files at least 100 times, knew them inside and out, but if years on the force had taught her anything it was the benefit of a fresh pair of eyes.
"Coffee in the pot?"
"Of course."
"Then let's get started."
There was a stiff kink in Joan's lower back that made its presence known as she climbed out of the cab. Massaging the sore muscle, Joan glanced at her watch and groaned, refusing to believe it read 2AM. Taking into account the time difference, it had been well over 24 hours since she'd last slept, and she was certainly starting to feel it. Limbs heavy, she trudged into the hotel, longing to fall into bed. Barely managing to get through the check-in process, Joan somehow made it into her room without collapsing.
Rain soaked coat discarded on the floor, she fell face first onto her bed. She debated if she really needed to shower and brush her teeth. They were things that could wait until she'd gotten at least some sleep. But the more she thought about it, the more the grime of the day began to seep into her skin, making it itch and crawl.
With a frustrated grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. By the time she felt clean, Joan's mind had gone from groggy haze to turning gears and twisting puzzle pieces. The investigation was at a standstill, she and Mitsu failing to find anything new in their search. The crime scenes revealed very little, witness testimonies were unreliable, with recent interviews leading them nowhere new.
Was it the same for the other six predecessors? Had they been just as careful? Had they changed their techniques over the years?
Joan froze, towel stilling in her hair.
Cursing her idiocy, she dropped the towel and scrambled for her phone.
"Ballinger," Blaine's voice came over the line. He sounded rather chipper, and Joan remembered they were several hours ahead. For once, she was thankful for the time difference.
"Blain, I need you to do me a favor."
"Jeez, Joan, isn't it 4 where you are?"
"3. Blaine?"
"Yeah, sorry. What do you need?"
"I need you to dig through our cold case files again."
"Joan, we already went through those-"
"I want you to be more vague." They should have done this before, but she had been too focused on a pattern, looking for key elements. She'd blinded herself instead of keeping her eyes open and allowing the evidence to come to her. As soon as she got the call from Mitsu, they should have looked again. " We were too selective before. Look for signs of any mistreatment of the body, but that's it."
"How far back?"
"As far back as the files take you."
There was silence on the other end. "We have over 75 years of files, Joan."
It was a lot she was asking him for, she knew that, but she was desperate. Any clue, no matter how small, would help - and they needed as much help as they could get.
"Talk to the Lieutenant, see if she can get you some help. Focus on the Western Star, I'll take a look through the Eastern Star cases."
"You're lucky I like you."
She could hear the smile in his voice and promised to take him out for lunch for every day he searched.
"Not exactly a motivator to hurry," he joked.
Joan rolled her eyes. "Thanks Blaine."
If they were lucky, Blaine would find something they missed, a clue or piece of evidence that would point them in the right direction.
If they were lucky. There was still a very good chance she had Blaine on a wild goose hunt.
Clinging desperately to that hopeful thought, Joan crawled beneath the sheets and fell asleep.
Her phone woke her an hour later.
"Kelley," she answered groggily, her eyes unwilling to open and look at that clock.
"Sorry to wake you, but we have another body."
Joan's heart dropped and she sat up. "You're certain it's our guy?"
"Same method of torture, same brand."
Mitsu sounded just as tired as she felt, having left the department after her. But hidden the lining of his voice was anger and frustration. As beneficial as more evidence was, neither of them wanted it at the cost of another life. And for it to happen so soon. This killer was wasting no time.
"Send me the address. I'll catch a cab." She scrambled out of bed and dug through her duffle to find a new set of clothes - a dry set of clothes.
"I'm sending a car to pick you up. He should be there soon."
Mitsu hung up as Joan tugged on the last of her clothes. Her hair had dried and was a bit of a tangled mess. She ran a brush through it real quick and tied it up in a messy bun. Grabbing the essentials, she rushed down to the entrance of the hotel, just as a cruiser was pulling up.
"Detective Kelley?" A shaggy haired officer asked her through the rolled down passenger window. Nodding and offering a quick good morning, she slid into the passenger seat. He flicked on his lights and hit the accelerator, barely giving her time to latch her seatbelt.
"Mitsu told me it was you, but I didn't believe him."
Raising a curious brow, Joan glanced at the officer. There were heavy rings under his eyes, an indication of the long hours he pulled, but there was no mistaking his clearly energetic eyes and wide smile.
"Hideo," she stated, recalling him easily now.
Somehow, his grin grew wider.
"Nice memory. You, of course, are hard to forget," he said with a smile and a wink.
Joan smiled out of courtesy, but wasn't keen on the way his eyes had flickered towards her chest. If she recalled, he'd had little restraint back when she'd met him all those years ago as well. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
What a pity.
"Did all of you end up on the force?" Joan asked out of curiosity.
"In some capacity," he replied. "Mitsu is the hot shot detective, pride of the department. I'm a bit too lazy to really try for a higher rank, but I like working patrols and meeting people. Nobu, he's a private detective. Spent a couple years on the force and decided the rules weren't really for him."
A young man with an arrogant smile laughed at her from the backseat of a cab. No, playing by other's rules didn't seem his style.
"It's a difficult job, working without the resources of the force."
"Well…" Judging by Hideo's sheepish smile, Nobu had a few more resources than most private detectives would. "He's done a lot for our department, for the people of Tokyo, it's only fair we give him help when he needs it."
It wasn't something Joan could approve of, the inappropriate use of police resources, however, she knew how beneficial outside help could be, an extra set of eyes, another person watching your back you could actually trust. But instead of discussing Nobu further, she shifted the conversation to Hideo, curious as to how he had been doing all these years.
The sun was barely cresting over the horizon when they pulled up to the crime scene. Mitsu was standing at the mouth of a dark alley, discussing something with another officer. There was an ambulance parked nearby, an EMT tended to a young man. Judging by the state of his attire, tattered and torn, covered in grime, and the sickly pallor of his skin, Joan concluded he had been living on the streets. Likely no more than 18, it was clear he had seen more than his fair share - including the body of the latest victim.
"Is there a shelter he can go to?" Joan asked, watching the boy interact with the EMT. Every time he reached to touch him, he flinched. His bloodshot eyes darted around, searching for a way out.
Hideo's smile faded. "They'll offer him a place to stay, and there are shelters around the city, but ultimately, it's up to him to decide where he goes after he's questioned."
"Joan." Mitsu approached them, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he'd gotten about as much sleep as she had, if not less. "Thanks for coming. Sorry for dragging you out of bed so early."
"Part of the job," she said with a casual shrug.
He smiled wryly at her remark and waved for her to follow him into the depths of the alley, leaving Hideo behind to secure the rest of the scene with the other officers.
The alley was dark, unlit by lamp light and untouched by the sun. The air was cool and moist, thick with the unpleasant stench of human waste, rot, and mold. Joan kept her breath shallow as they approached the body. He was slumped against the alley wall behind a rusted dumpster, easily mistaken for a sleeping vagrant. Older than the previous victims, his hair was completely gray and nearing white. Severe creases between his brows indicated an almost permanent frown. Waiting for the crime scene photographer to give his go ahead, Joan knelt in front of their latest victim and said a silent prayer.
Like the others, his body was battered and bruised, clearly tortured until the killer finally took his life. But unlike those of the Western Star, this man had been tortured with almost heartless precision. The cuts and broken bones were almost identical to Uchika's body. There was no variance, no custom approach to harming this man. It was almost as if the killer was torturing them out of a sense of duty rather than desire.
Joan frowned. How did this fit with what they already knew? Did it fit?
An elder man wandered into the alley, carrying a familiar bag and yawning.
"My apologies for being late, Detective Akechi." He rubbed his tired eyes before slipping on a pair of gloves.
"Dr. Matsuhara is our forensic pathologist. Dr. Matsuhara, this is Detective Joan Kelley from the Western Star," Mitsu explained.
"Ah, yes, word of your presence has made its way through the department grapevine." The doctor's old eyes twinkled mischievously and Joan wondered just what the "word" about her was.
"Only good things, I hope," she said, getting to her feet. "Did any of the officers who arrived on the scene find any forms of identification?"
"The alley is well used, lots of foot traffic," Mitsu explained. "If his ID was here, it's probably long gone, along with anything else he might have had with him."
The previous victims had been easy to identify. Neither of the killers seemed to care too much about keeping the identities of their victims secret. Perhaps they didn't think they would be able to connect them to the victims, or perhaps there wasn't one. But Joan had long ago tossed out the idea that the victims were random. The attacks on those from the Western Star had been specialized to hurt the victims more than physically. Was it possible that the protégé was drifting so far from the pattern or was she missing another piece of the puzzle?
Was there even a pattern? Beyond torture and a brand, there was nothing that connected the two killers. Their victims varied in location and type, but the numbers couldn't have been a coincidence. There had to be a connection, something she was missing.
"Mitsu, do you think I could access your cold cases?"
Glancing at her with curiosity, he turned away from the doctor as he worked. "Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. Have a theory?"
"Less a theory and more a hope." She tucked a few stray hairs from her eyes behind her ear. "I want to have another go at trying to find the other cases. If these are number 7 and 8 in our line up, there should be evidence of the other killers somewhere. I have someone on my team looking into the files on the Western Star and I'd like to have a look here."
Mitsu considered her for a moment before nodding. "I'm not sure we'll be able to find anything, but it's better than nothing. I'll stay to canvas the rest of the scene, but Hideo can take you to the archives."
Joan nodded and started to turn to find Hideo, then stopped. Her eyes found the body. "You'll give me a call when you're done with the autopsy?"
Dr. Matsuhara waved in confirmation and continued to work.
Hideo was standing just behind the police tape, acting as a physical barricade. With the rising sun had come curious eyes and the media, all wanting to get a glimpse of the tragedy. He was doing a surprisingly good job of glaring down anyone who got too close, especially the cameras. But he was all smiles when he saw Joan approaching. Happy to be her driver, he summoned another officer to take his place has he happily escorted her to his cruiser.
The archives were located in the lower levels of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, and housed files for all cases since the department's establishment. Cases from the past few decades had been logged digitally, but there were still hundreds of cases that were stored in boxes, waiting for transition. Joan eyed the deteriorating boxes, hoping she wouldn't have to dig too far back, but she would follow where the evidence led her - if there was any to be found.
Starting with the most recent murders, Joan and Hideo worked backwards, looking for any signs of abuse. When none of the cases in the past ten years matched the criteria - the length of time the killer had been active on the Western Star - Joan wondered if this was enough to solidify the master / protégé theory. But why switch planets? Was it part of the process? Did they trade off which planet they were active on? Would they find what they were looking for 10 years prior?
Driven to find the answer, Joan began searching further back.
The Eastern Star had been blessed with good fortune and peace, and while they had their fair share of crimes, most had been acts of passion, revenge, or greed. The deaths over the last 20 years, though violent, had been quick. Few had the markings of torture. Perhaps that was why, despite missing the tell tale brands, the strangulation, and the less than public dump sites, she had a growing list of potential victims.
There had been nearly 16 murders in the two decades before the Western Star killings - all with signs of torture. But what she found was that, rather than the torture becoming more brutal as time passed, it had become more controlled. The first few murders were just as violent as the Western Star killings, and then the killer seemed to settle. Or perhaps it was a sign of another transition. Did they work in waves? Violent and then controlled? Why? To what purpose?
"It doesn't make any sense," Joan growled in frustration. Where she hoped to find a lead, she had found only more questions that fed into a never ending loop. But at least she had more to go with than when she had first arrived. She would need more time to get through the files.
The sandwich Hideo brought several hours ago remained partially eaten, and her headache from staring at the screen for so long was getting worse. She needed fresh food, coffee, and at least four hours of sleep. Instead of sitting around and running the limited information she had gathered over and over in her head, Joan decided to head to the morgue. Mitsu hadn't called to report the autopsy was finished, but she needed a change in scenery to help clear her head.
Hideo was happy to drive her, excited for an opportunity to get out of the archives and do a bit of patrolling. He left her his number so she could give him a call if she needed another ride. She appreciated his willingness to chauffer her around town, and offered to buy him dinner one night. Beaming, he drove off, leaving Joan to enter the building alone.
Dr. Matsuhara didn't seem to favor the use of bleach as much as Mel did, the hall leading the morgue notably void of any sort of odor. As she reached the doors, she noticed a figure standing at the end of one of the slabs. The most recent victim was laid out, the noticeable incision on his torso indicating the autopsy was complete. The man standing at the victim's feed was dressed in dark clothing and he leaned on the slab, his knuckles white as his fingers gripped the edges. Head bowed, she was almost certain he was grieving.
She was glad they had identified him and found the family. Not wanting to interrupt, she found a bench along the wall and took a seat, waiting for Mitsu to arrive or the guest to leave.
"Ah, you're already here." Mitsu was walking down the hall, Dr. Matsuhara beside him.
"I got here just a few minutes ago," she said, standing. "There's a gentleman in there grieving. You were able to ID the victim and contact next of kin?"
Mitu and Dr. Matsuhara glanced at one another.
"No. We haven't gotten a positive identification of him yet," the doctor explained. Mitsu frowned, as did Joan. If he wasn't related to the victim, how had he found out about the autopsy?
Guns drawn, Mitsu burst through the door, Joan on his heels.
No longer leaning on the table, the man now reclined against the wall, his deep ruby eyes watching them with a spark of amusement. He had been difficult to see from the doorway, but now Joan could recognize his smug face.
"What the hell are you doing here, Nobu?"
Author's Notes: I am so sorry everyone! It has been a very busy few months and I fell behind with getting this chapter out! I wanted to thank everyone who has favorited and followed this story so far. A special thanks to NinaSkyLove and your lovely review. I'm so happy you like it so far! For those who are waiting for the next chapter of Lost, don't worry, I'm still working on that. It just had to go through a bit of a...overhaul. But the next chapter is coming!
Thank you again for taking the time to read this. Please R&R! I love hearing from all of you!
