I hope this update, as always, is finding everyone well. I just want to leave a special note for you before you start to read this chapter: I've rated this story a strong 'T' for a reason, and the rating goes into effect now. This chapter starts to explore some dark things that will continue now for a little while. I want to warn everyone ahead of time that this may be a little disturbing. So read ahead with caution and do try to enjoy it! :) I apologize now if it offends anyone.

-Angie

Monica was sure that she was dreaming. This couldn't be real; Andrew could not possibly be here with her right now and yet … there he was, sitting in the corner of her apartment, looking at her in that way he always did, one side of his mouth turned up in a grin and his green eyes twinkling, a slight glowing light casting off from him in all directions. She was afraid to speak, to breathe almost … in case either of those things could cause her to wake from this wonderful delusion. She sat upright in her bed, her eyes fixed intently upon the beautiful sight of him, wanting desperately to be near him, to feel his warmth, to hear his voice. She was terrified that if she moved, if she tried to get closer, he would disappear but the need to go to him was too great, like a magnetic pull that she could not resist. She found herself suddenly out of her bed and moving slowly across the room towards the corner where he sat, not daring to believe that she could actually approach him without waking up. Dream Andrew did not say anything, did not move, did not change his expression from the lop-sided grin, just continued to gaze at her in return. She continued coming nearer until she was just inches away.

"Andrew?"

She forgot that she hadn't wanted to ruin this by speaking but again, the need was too great and she could not help herself. He said nothing still but rose from his chair and lessened the space between them even more, his face just millimeters from hers. She felt his hands on her cheeks, warm and comforting and she closed her eyes against the tears that immediately poured silently from them at the contact … it was almost too much to bear. She opened her eyes to--

Monica jerked awake suddenly, painfully, the separation from Dream Andrew causing a physical ache in her chest and she let out a small cry of anguish as the dream faded away too quickly for her to hold on to the details. The tears were all that was left, little rushing rivers of salt water cascading down her face. She had been trying not to dwell on him constantly while awake during the last weeks and she nearly succeeded at pushing him from her mind altogether. With the stress and frustration she was experiencing at work, it was almost easy. Monica had not ever been able to understand the reason that some people cut themselves or used drugs or became alcoholics before knowing this brand of pain, before losing Andrew and losing herself. Now, she could very easily picture herself doing those very things, all at once, if it meant that she could forget him, forget this hurt for a moment. She hadn't done anything like that yet, but the thoughts were definitely on her mind often. Even in sleep, when sleep came at all, she could not escape the haunting memories of Andrew as he was there in her dreams. It seemed as though the harder she worked to block him from her conscious thoughts, the more frequently he showed up in her dreams against her will. Usually, he was just there … he had yet to speak to her in a dream and she did not hold out hope that he would. Instead of comforting her, these dreams were nothing short of tortuous. She woke up from them every morning hurting all over again, day after day, and she could do nothing to make them stop. Three months now, three months had gone since their separation and still the pain was so raw and sharp that at times, were it not for the fact that she was working or in the presence of someone else, it would have brought her to her knees. Yes, she would have gladly cut off her right hand in order to channel the immense pain from her heart to somewhere else, anywhere else.

As she got up and started to get ready for another long and exhausting day at work, Monica wished that she could pray for the strength to get through it. She was scheduled for nearly twelve hours today because she was working her own shift and also covering for another employee who was out with the flu and she wasn't looking forward to it. She was not used to being less than perfect at anything she tried and 'less than perfect' was an understatement to describe the way she was performing at work. Jason was being extremely patient with her but she could see the frustration on his face too. He had told her before that most people begin picking it up and doing great within the first week or two and it had been nearly three months for her and she still hadn't quite got the hang of making the drinks or taking the orders properly. At the register, she always had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at people when they ordered ridiculous nonsense like 'decaf triple Grande, 1 pump vanilla, ½ pump mocha, nonfat, extra hot, extra foam, 6 Splenda latte' and similar monstrosities. It was hard enough to take the order down correctly, let alone prepare the beverage in question. She usually left after her shift close to tears and so exhausted that she could hardly see straight. The only good thing that was coming of this job was that fact that she was usually so mentally worn out that she did not have the time to dwell on Andrew and that was, at least for now, welcoming.

Three months, Andrew thought, closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady his heart. Three months today since being separated from Monica and just under that since learning that she had chosen to become human. Andrew had had to fight with himself every day to keep from doing the same thing. He had promised her that he would try and find her, and he meant to follow through on that promise no matter what he had to do, no matter how long it took. He knew that if he fell, he would lose any chance of seeing her again. He knew that trying to find out where she was would be next to impossible unless he stayed as he was, at least for the time being, and that it would take a bit of scheming on his part. At this point, however, he didn't care what he had to do. He did not need to be told that she was falling apart, and falling fast, so he spent his Tess-free time trying to devise a plan. He did not feel good in the least about going behind her back, about planning to purposely deceive her, but he knew of no other way. Upon hearing what Monica had done, after the initial numbness and shock had worn off, he had all but begged Tess to let him go to her, but she had refused of course, and continued to claim that she didn't know of Monica's whereabouts anyway.

Andrew had only been on a handful of assignments in the last few months, all of them very tame and in his opinion, extremely unfulfilling, though he hated to think that of his work as he knew that even the littlest assignments and smallest problems mattered to the Father. He had yet to be allowed to go on a solo assignment or to return Home and that was his goal for the near future. He needed Tess to regain trust in him again though, and he had no idea how long that would take. None of his recent assignments had lasted longer than a day and he knew that for his plan to work, he would have to be apart from Tess for at least that long, if not for a few days. He would have to get to the point where she was not checking in on him every day as she was now.

He wanted desperately to have some time to talk with Adam. He knew that Adam, his oldest friend and confidant, would be able to counsel him on this matter. Though Adam had not experienced anything of the sort, Andrew knew that he would have some wisdom and advice for him. At the very least, Adam would provide an open ear to listen and Andrew was counting on that. Adam and Andrew were brothers in the truest sense of the word and Andrew was confident that when he explained his situation and told him what Monica had done, if he wasn't already aware, Adam would not hesitate a second in trying to help him find her. Though they had grown apart over the years, Adam and Monica had once been extremely close and Andrew knew that there was a special place in his heart for the little Irish angel. Andrew hoped beyond hope that Adam would not refuse his plea. He was counting on his cooperation for the plan to succeed.

Andrew figured it would be a while yet before Tess would trust him enough to let him go on his own, but he was already hinting to her that he was ready, really ready to start working on his own again. He had ceased giving her any kind of attitude, was being almost sweet to her again, and hadn't complained about anything in weeks. On the one hand, he felt slightly guilty about the fact that his shift in behavior was just a façade, but on the other hand, and as much as he would have liked to pretend that he didn't care, he knew that him being in a constant foul mood and always having something snarky to say was hurting her too. As much pain as being away from Monica caused Andrew, he knew it was difficult on Tess to have lost her as well. The resentment that he felt towards her did not erase the simple fact that she was in pain from all this too, although it had taken him awhile to convince himself of that. Being angry with Tess did nothing but put even more strain on the situation and by now, Andrew was well aware that this was not her fault. It had taken enormous effort on his part, but he had succeeded in trying to put his negative feelings towards her behind him in order to regain her trust. Her trust was what he needed before he could do anything else, and if he had to be a little untruthful to get it, then so be it.

Several hours later, as the afternoon was fading into evening, Jason was sitting at his desk flipping through some un-done paperwork when Monica hurried back to the store room looking utterly distraught, an angry red burn quickly blistering on her right forearm. He jumped up from his chair, already reaching for the Burn Care Kit and met her halfway across the room. This was not the first time that he had had to take care of a nasty burn for her. He could see it in her eyes that she was embarrassed with the fact that she was not learning as quickly as the others and that she often made mistakes, some of them ending in personal injury.

"What happened?" He asked cautiously. She looked up at him with tears of frustration glistening in her eyes and her lower lip trembling slightly.

"I dropped a cup of hot water and it spilled on me," she admitted sheepishly, raising her un-afflicted hand to wipe angrily at her eyes, "it's not even busy out there, and I don't know what happened to me, my mind must be somewhere else …"

Monica was not being entirely truthful about that last part, and she was not aware of the fact that Jason was picking up on it. She was concentrating so hard on work in an effort to block out unwanted thoughts that she was almost trying too hard to do well and it was backfiring. He had been more than patient with her and was holding out hope that she would eventually get the hang of things, even if she had given up on doing well. Jason was still concerned about her situation and he had kept himself from bringing up the subject of her personal life for a long while. He was still dying to know who she really was, where she had come from, and who or what had hurt her so badly. But he didn't think it was the right time to ask her, not when she was already having such a hard time adjusting. He did not want to be the cause of more pain in her life.

"You don't have to be perfect you know," he began casually as he started to clean her burn with an antiseptic spray, "everyone makes mistakes, it's all part of the learning process. When I first started as a barista, I was hopeless. I made more mistakes than I care to admit, far more than you, if you can believe that. And look at me now, I'm the manager of a store. Just because you're not the fastest learner, or a perfect barista, does not mean that you can't do well with this someday and it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to give up on you. So do me a favor and give yourself a little more credit for trying. Anybody who watches you can see that you're working your little ass off," he said with a grin. "Why don't you stay back here and take a break for a while? You definitely deserve it after today." It was nearing the end of her shift anyhow and Jason did not mind cutting her some much needed slack.

Monica could not return his smile, but she nodded in response to his question and thanked him for taking care of her yet again. Making mistake after mistake was not something she was used to and there was no way to explain that to Jason. She would just have to suck it up and continue to push through the frustration. She did not have a choice in the matter … it was about survival now.

She sat in the backroom with Jason for close to an hour more, making a genuine effort to hold a conversation with him, but all the while, she just wished to be alone. He finally told her to go ahead and go home, that she had been there long enough and he would see her in the morning. She thanked him again for treating her burn and for being so patient with her, but he would not accept the thanks for either thing, insisting that it was his pleasure to help her, no matter what she needed. It was no use arguing with him about it, so she gave up and bade him farewell.

Monica heaved a great sigh of relief as she pushed through the door to leave, the thought about what she was about to do oddly comforting. As she walked the short distance to her apartment, she turned the idea over and over in her mind, the same idea she'd been pondering all day since she first thought of it earlier that morning, the same idea that had no doubt been the cause of her numerous mishaps at work. She wasn't sure when exactly she had decided to act on this idea, but she was determined to go through with it and was not going to back out now, even though the thought of it made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

She was done, tired of trying to deal with this unbearable pain in a normal fashion. It wasn't working, at all, and she was just so completely over it. She had tried for three long months and she couldn't do it any longer. She was dead set on finding another way. Her legs shook as she climbed the stairs to her floor, her hands trembling as she fumbled with her key. Inside her apartment it was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering in softly through the blinds of her only window. She did not turn on the lights. She did not want to see, afraid that if she was able to see, she wouldn't make herself do it. She crossed to the kitchen and rummaged quickly through the drawer to the right of the stove, found what she was looking for, and closed it again.

She gripped the object so tightly in her right hand that she began to lose feeling in her fingers almost immediately. Her heartbeat began to speed up and unwanted tears began welling in her eyes … the moment that she had been waiting for all day long had finally arrived and she could put it off no longer. She wavered slightly and had to grip the counter for support, had to remind herself to breathe. The last thing she saw before squeezing her eyes shut was the flash of the blade in the moonlight and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from screaming out as the knife slashed through the soft flesh of her left forearm.