A/N: You guys rock! Thanks for the reviews. I loved your reactions to the fight scene. Here's a super long chapter, because this story is kind of taking off! It's going really well and its a helluva lot of fun to write. I've been trying to get back to everyone that reviewed, so I hope you got it! Thanks a bunches, hush-hushers. Enjoy!

Patch POV

Realistically, I knew that perfect happiness doesn't last forever - but I sure as hell hoped it would've lasted longer than twelve hours. It was literally only yesterday that Nora and I were fine. We were better than fine, actually. We were happy and connected in a way that seemed unbreakable. Now, yesterday seems like years ago.

Let's recap this shitty day. This morning, I was practically summoned for what I'm calling a 'deal'. Then, Nora and I got into and argument. During this argument, I (deservedly) got slapped across the face. And now, we're sitting on opposite sides of our bathroom doorway, not even talking, and I made her cry. Let's add this to the list of worst days ever.

I'm purposely trying not to dwell on the meeting tomorrow night too much. I'm afraid that if I do, Nora will overhear my thoughts and figure out the plans. Call me unreasonable, but if she does, there is a large chance that she'll try to stop me - or worse, join me. I'm being super paranoid and even more of a jerk, but I wouldn't put anything past a pissed off nephilim. I trust her implicitly, I really do, but I can't leave this one up to chance. So for now, the a-hole that I am, the 'meeting' is not even on my mind.

Instead, I bring my thoughts back to the fight. Nora and I have never fought like this. Sure, we've had disagreements about stupid things, like whose turn is it to do laundry (it's usually mine), or who left clutter lying around (usually me). But this was different. This mega blowup was completely new to us. I mean, she used my name. My head drops into my hands when I remember that the only other time she used my real name recently was when we were having sex.

Which brings us to point number five million why I am a horrible person: I made her feel like a… whore. When she accused me of just using her 'for kicks', I can say with certainty that I've never felt that low. The look in her eyes told me how much she believed that it was true - that I didn't feel anything for her. Of course, I immediately denied it and tried to tell her it wasn't true, but she had already convinced herself of it. There wasn't anything I could do as the love of my life broke down every confidence we had built. Nora ran to our master bathroom and locked herself in. I banged on the door, begging her to let me in so I could explain. The only response I could make out over her crying was a mumbled 'just leave me alone'. So we sat, for hours, back to back against the door.

I assume she's fallen asleep hours ago because the sniffling had stopped and all I hear now is her light, even breathing. I can only hope her dreams are more pleasant than her reality. I'm guessing that it's around two o'clock in the afternoon, but there isn't a clock in my line of sight. The only measure I have is the sun, and the patches of light that have slowly crept their way across the room.

After a long period of silence, Nora's cell phone dings loudly with a new text message. She must have grabbed it on her mad dash to get away because the sound comes from the other side of the door. I hear her shuffle slowly awake, stretching and popping joints from the unforgiving floor. She unlocks her phone, I assume she reads the message, and sighs. I hold my breath, not wanting to draw attention to myself in any way.

"I know you're out there, Patch…" She says in a low voice. I clear my throat to respond but stop when I hear her stand up. I stand up as well, trying to quickly de-wrinkle my clothes and run my hands through my hair.

The door knob turns and I freeze, my arms hanging awkwardly. I stuff them in my pockets. The door opens with a squeak and I see Nora, standing shyly and leaning on the door. Her eyes are rimmed with red and her cheeks are flushed. She opens her mouth to talk, probably to tell me to go to hell or something. But her words surprise me. She whispers, "Thanks for staying here with me." My eyes relax and crinkle as I smile and say, "Always, Angel."

I take a step towards her, reaching out to touch her arm, her hair, anything. But she takes a half-step back, as if to say, 'I haven't forgiven you that easily.' I get the hint and prop myself up against the doorway, waiting for her to make the next move. She crosses her arms and looks at her feet.

"I think I'm going to take a shower…" she trails off, biting her lip.

Without thinking, I smirk and say, "Soap. Shampoo. Hot water. Naked. I know the drill." Once the words leave my mouth my grins falters. Even I knew that it was not the appropriate time for jokes, and I usually find any time to be a good time to give a smart remark. Her face drops and her eyes wander as she remembers the first time we had that conversation. I'm sure she's wishing she was back in those days of blissful innocence.

I nod to myself and start to turn away, mumbling an "okay, sorry" and giving her some space and privacy. But I have to say something first. I spin on my feet to face her. "Nora. I'm so sorry that I've messed this up. Messed us up. I am the biggest jerk ever. I just want to say-"

She holds up her hand, halting me mid-sentence. "Please…" she begs, looking sad, "we don't have to get into this right now, Patch. I think we both need time to... process." I blink a few times, stunned, and nod. She lets her hand fall to the door and she slowly pushes it closed. The resounding click of the door seems loud and final.

I flop myself onto the bed, telling myself that I'll get up in a minute. I hear the shower start. I've been driving myself a little crazy the past few hours, staying wide awake, torturing myself for being this way. Maybe I'm just a bad person, and there isn't anything that will make me change. But I sure as hell have to try, for Nora's sake. The rhythmic beating of the water is soothing. My eyes droop and I allow myself to fall asleep.

Nora POV

I stand under the shower head and let the scorching hot water flow over me. Feeling this burning pain on my shoulders makes me forget all the real pain – the pain that waits for me as soon as I get out of the shower. The water that runs on my face makes it hard to tell if I'm crying or not. I assume that I am, because I've been crying more often than not for the past 12 hours. The steam in the room clouds my vision. Or is that the tears? Gahh, I don't know... stupid emotions.

Why do showers always make people think more? My mind wanders back to a few minutes earlier, when I opened the door and saw Patch. Saying that those few words were passed a little awkwardly would be the understatement of the year. You could practically cut the tension with a butter knife. And God, he'd even cracked a joke. "Soap. Shampoo. Hot water. Naked. I know the drill." He'd said the same exact thing when we first started to get to know each other. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days.

I think back to this morning, when I was uncomfortably asleep on the tiled floor. What woke me up was the loud ding of my cell phone receiving a text. I guess I grabbed my cell on my way running to the bathroom. I honestly didn't remember getting it, but at least my subconscious had my back for these types of things. When I squinted into the bright screen, I was shocked to see a text from my best friend, Vee. Wasn't she in England with Gavin? It had read: Hey babe! Surprise! You'll never guess: I'm in town for a cousin's bridal shower (bo-ring)! Come over ASAP and we'll catch up! XO. I couldn't believe that Vee was in Coldwater. I definitely need some Vee time. She must have some telepathy, knowing exactly when I need to talk to her. Knowing her, she probably did have telepathy or some freaky shit.

Moving back to reality, I decide to shut down my thoughts for a minute of peace inside my head. I pretend that I'm the old, naïve Nora, still in high school, and my biggest problem was a biology assignment. I begin to move through the motions mechanically. Shampoo. Condition. Rinse. Repeat.

Once I felt sufficiently clean and my legs started to stiffen from standing, I turned the shower off. Stepping out of the glass door with a puff of smoke, my toes wiggle into the plush bath mat and I wrap myself in a towel. Savoring these last few moments of pampering, I take a step towards the mirror so I can dry my hair.

However, mid-stride, my body seems to think twice about cooperating. My gut twists and a sharp pain rips through my whole body. I dart over to the toilet, desperately hoping that I won't cover the walls with my throw up. I just barely make it, wrenching my stomach into the bowl. I feel like someone has wrung out my stomach like a dish towel. There isn't much to come up, considering my lack of breakfast that morning. So the next minute, I find myself dry-heaving. I try to lie down and lean my cheek against the cool floor tiles. It's so much cooler on the floor. I need to get lower… because heat rises, is that it? Did I learn that in chemistry or physics? Why does it matter? Oh God, I'm going to throw up again.

I'm stopped by a frantic knocking on the door. It's Patch. He's yelling, "Nora? Angel, what's going on? Can I come in? Please, Nora. The door's locked." He jiggles the handle and beats on the door with his other hand.

I'm afraid that more things than words will come out of my mouth if I open it, so I clamp my hand over my mouth and opt for mind speak. Patch, this isn't pretty. Don't come in.

I can feel his panic as I share this thought in his mind and not out loud. He speaks back to me, "Nora, listen, I'm – I'm sorry, but I need to come in. Just- just stand back, okay?" The waver in his voice betrays his attempt at appearing calm.

My eyes are closed as I lie on the floor, but I hear him open the locked door with force. He's at my side in under a second, lifting my limp head off the floor and pushing the wet hair off my face. He's whispering, "oh, Angel..." like I'm about to vanish or something. After a moment of thought, I decide that it's too late to try to be modest; my towel is only barely covering my body. I'm surprised it's stayed on at all. Nothing he hasn't seen before, Nora. But Patch doesn't seem to notice, all he can do is look at me and try to figure out what's wrong. I mean, nephilim don't get sick. But I come up with a reasonable excuse anyway. I push away his worried hands and say in a quiet voice, "Patch. I'm sure it's just exhaustion or dehydration or something. I'm fine."

He looks skeptical and nervous when he replies, "Angel, you're not fine, you just threw up everything you had in your stomach and nearly passed out on the floor. You need to rest and drink fluids." Seeing his panic, I nod in submission.

At this point, I attempt to regain some lost dignity and I try to pull the towel over my still-dripping body. I can't meet Patch's eyes when he helps me get myself together. He pulls my hair back and quickly braids it, getting it out of my face. I grab the edge of the sink and pull myself up, careful not to fall. But once I'm up, my head spins and dizziness makes the room tilt. My knees shake and clank together. Patch notices my fumbles and grips me under my arms, steadying me. I lean on him for support and mentally thank him, suddenly too exhausted for words.

He leads me back to the bed, quickly grabbing my damp towel and switching it for a soft robe before I even knew what he was doing. Goosebumps rise on my skin from the seconds of exposure, I make a sound of surprise, and he was sensitive enough to avert his eyes. I lie back, or rather he pushes my shoulders gently back, and snuggle under the covers. He sits beside me on the bed, over the covers, unsure of what to do.

After only a couple minutes, I feel much better. It's good to know that my freaky nephilim healing powers haven't totally abandoned me. I really do think it was just dehydration and exhaustion. The freak momentary episode of nausea has passed, and it doesn't feel like it's coming back anytime soon. I keep my eyes closed though. When I open them five minutes later, Patch is still sitting next to me, as if he's keeping watch or waiting for me to be sick again. I raise an eyebrow at him and contort my face. He raises one right back in question. I relax my face and whisper, "Thank you." It catches him off guard and he asks the specific reason I'm thanking him. After a moment, I reply, "For breaking down the door even though I told you not to."

"Anytime, Angel." He replies. Only this time, it isn't with a smirk or wink, he's completely serious.

I bite my lip and just enjoy Patch's company in silence. I can't deny that I'm pretending that everything is normal right now; that we aren't fighting or lying to each other.

In these moments of silence, an idea starts to slowly form in my head. But it order to even think about setting my plan into motion, I need Patch gone. Not gone from my life of course, just gone from the apartment for a bit. So when my stomach grumbles, quite loudly, I take this as the perfect opportunity. "Patch," I begin, grabbing his attention. "Babe, do you think you could do something for me?" I bat my eyelashes a few times and work the charm.

"Of course!" he says, sitting up a little straighter. I know that he's dying to help, in any way. "What do you need?"

Seeing his look of expectation and relief that he's needed, I feel a twinge of guilt. I push it down and continue on with my plan, but that guilt is making it hard to look him in the eye. I fiddle with a string on the blanket and say, "Uhm, well. Maybe could you pick some things up for me? You know, from the store?" Of course it's from the store, stupid, I tell myself.

He nods right away and repeats himself, "What do you need, Angel? Anything."

Oh God, he's gunna do it. Well, I have to commit myself to this part. I mentally face-palm myself and say, "Oh, uh, okay. Could you get some migraine pills? I feel a headache coming on. And uh… some chocolate. Yeah, lots of chocolate!" I feel my eyes go wide and I'm sure I look crazy.

Patch laughs and pulls my head towards him, kissing the top of my head. He makes a move to get up and go, but I grab his arm and say, "Wait! Uh, one more thing." He raises his eyebrows, waiting to hear. I need to make sure he's gone a while, and he isn't suspicious. If this last part doesn't cover and explain my actions, I don't know what else will. "Could you pick up some… ya know, feminine products?" I watch his eyes go wide for a second but he regains his composure. And then his next words surprise me.

"Anything for you, Angel." My mouth drops open, but I quickly shut it. He winks and says, "I'm not sure how smoothly that pickup will go, but I'd do it for you."

I know I'm blushing furiously, but I just have to get through this and he'll leave. The words just tumble out of my mouth. "Oh, uh, that's great. Thanks Patch. I just, uh, I'm probably just pms-ing or something. That's why I was so upset and mad at you. And I'm sure that's why I threw up, too." I bite my lip and add, for good measure, "That's probably why I'm craving chocolate." The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile. I say, "…like, really craving it."

He suddenly gets the hint and jumps up from the bed. "Right, my cue to go." He tugs on a jacket, steps into his shoes, and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. As he walks through the bedroom door, he turns and says, "Please rest, Nora. I want you feeling better. I'll be back quicker than you can say... chocolate." With a wink, he's gone.

I sure as hell hope you're not that quick, I think and drop my smile as soon as I hear the front door shut. I hop out of the bed and walk to the window, pulling aside the curtain just enough to peer out. I look just in time to see Patch's Jeep pull out of the car garage and into the street.

Dropping the curtain, I run back to the bathroom and my eyes scour the small room for one thing. My cell phone. It was sitting with me all morning, and I left it in there after I got in the shower. My eyes hone in on it, sitting on the counter. I rush over to it, knowing that my time alone is limited.

I grab it, run to the closet, and get whatever clothes of mine I see first. Which end up being jeans and a loose sweater. I pull them on, tripping around my closet as I struggle to be quick. I fly back to my phone, my sweater still half on. My fingers type furiously fast as I send a text message. It reads, Vee – I'm coming over. Be there soon. Delete this message when you get it. I hit send.

I scribble a quick note to Patch on a scrap of paper, and I leave it on the bed. It says some crap about how I'm feeling better, how I'm super-sorry for flaking, but I went over to Vee's for the night! Wa-hoo, girls night!, it reads, and I hope he can't see right through it.

A/N: I hit 5,000 views! Now if I could just get that many reviews... hehe. jk. Review with thoughts, or suggestions, or guess what will happen! (;