A/N: Once again, your feedback and enthusiasm for this little story of mine leaves me speechless! I should also mention that there has been some absolutely amazing photo montages—even a fanmix and actual artwork *squeal*—floating around on Tumblr for this story that you should check out if you haven't! (I've linked to them all on my Profile; scroll down to Media Content.)

I can't express my gratitude enough to such amazingly talented readers, as well as everyone following and reviewing! The E/É fandom has been so welcoming to me as a writer that I don't think my thanking you repeatedly is nearly enough, but, still, I hope you understand how much it means to me. :)

*cough* All right, enough of my sappy A/N! More development here, and, as always, I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Les Misérables is copyrighted to and belongs to Victor Hugo. I'm just playing in his sandbox and receive no financial gain from this. Rats.

Chapter 13

"...Out of reach
Just a whisper away, waiting for me"

-Les Misérables

What a whirlwind, Éponine reflected as she wandered back to her bedroom, lost in her thoughts. Cosette and Monsieur Gillenormand had interrogated her and Enjolras adamantly following their return home from the (mostly) unpleasant Masquerade Ball. Eventually, both were accepting of what had been secretly transpiring between the two for some time, though Enjolras remained thoroughly uncomfortable at discussing their hand-holding at length, and how that had come to be.

Éponine was more infuriated with Molly. However, realizing she would have to be watching herself at every turn wasn't new. She had no idea she could be so despised by another person, until she recalled her parents' treatment, and the circle of shady characters she had once been subjected to daily on the streets. That immediately set Éponine's mind to rest, if only a little.

You can handle, Molly, and anyway, your secret is out in the open now. You and Enjolras are still in one piece.

"Éponine," Cosette had taken her aside once everyone was ready to retire for the evening, "I want to believe you, I really do, which is why I... I tried to dismiss Molly's claims."

"I'm glad you did."

"I'm still a little shocked..."

Éponine shifted her eyes. "I know."

Cosette's next remark, however, stunned her into silence. "You're very kind...to Enjolras, rather; to help him as you have..."

Once Éponine recovered, she smiled delicately. "I wanted to."

"I... I'm sorry for questioning your regard earlier."

"There's no need," Éponine reassured her quietly. "It is the honest truth, I swear it."

That had been the end to the discussion. If Cosette was reassured by the explanations presented, then Éponine could only hope it wouldn't affect their friendship. Monsieur Gillenormand looked surprisingly comfortable, which all but shocked Enjolras, but Éponine detected that hint of pleasure and amusement when they were back in the carriage together. Annoyed with not being privy to a secret the old man may have been, but unsatisfied with how the night had turned out he apparently wasn't.

Climbing the stairs and dragging her feet all the way, Éponine thought the smile she displayed might never leave her face. To her, she surely must be glowing from the inside out, her warmth and elation pouring out of her in waves. That's certainly how she felt, anyway.

Enjolras's heartfelt declaration had been playing over and over in her mind. It had been difficult to concentrate on the fact that, at one point earlier, she and Enjolras were in trouble with the rest of the household. If there was one thing Éponine was certain of about the gentleman she had grown immensely fond of, it was that expressing his sentiments was difficult, and yet, he had managed to illustrate them with such clarity, and quite endearingly at that. It hadn't been boisterous or showered with flowery prose.

It was real, and, oh, so sincere.

The Masquerade Ball may have been dampened by the abominable presence of that snide, highly arrogant Marcel Beaumont, but it had ended with an exchanging of affections—sealed by a kiss—and from the one person Éponine had longed to hear the words from for longer than she knew.

More so than Marius...

That caused Éponine to blink and shift away from her otherwise contended musings. Months ago, when she first came to the Gillenormand estate, she would never have fathomed her tortured heart could get over Marius Pontmercy. In fact, she was prepared to go to her grave hopelessly in love with a man who would never return her affections, who was well above her ranks, and who would forever be a fragment of her life but nothing more. She expected to die of her broken heart, as melodramatic as it sounded, for she thought she was in love with Marius all that time, only to discover what true love actually tasted like now—with another man. A gentleman more suited to her and her likings than any other.

Her attachment to Marius had been a naïve, childlike understanding. The feelings that she thought burned in the very depths of her soul for her dear friend weren't what she felt now. They were a fantasy of what she believed true love to be when it was simply an idea, lacking of the fierce passion and desire and a smoldering in one's very loins for the presence, a kiss, or a soft-spoken word from a real lover.

Éponine now understood that that man was Enjolras without a shred of doubt. What she experienced tonight was a testament to what she now knew to be true. Kissing had awakened her like a flame she didn't know existed, lying dormant inside her and waiting for someone to come along and breathe life into every fiber of her being. She found herself yearning to keep their hands attached, wanting to lock herself to Enjolras's hip, to remain near him, and to memorize the feel of his touch.

Éponine halted before her bedroom door and unconsciously ran her fingers down the front of her dress, releasing a low, deep moan of longing she had never uttered before. She felt lightheaded and wanting and startled from the strange heat that trickled down to her sex, cast by the mere thought of a certain gentleman's large hands roving over her soft, bare skin.

Then, she really did jump when none other than Enjolras himself crept up from behind. He had climbed the stairs quietly, following her at a distance after she excused herself for the night, not really wanting to retire but more tired from this evening's affairs than she expected.

Éponine had been so consumed by her own arousing thoughts that she never heard him approach. She spun around, the inner warmth from the images in her head casting a bright flush onto her cheeks. Unaware of her private musings, however, Enjolras offered her a respectful bow.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," he whispered in that very gentleman-like fashion she admired, particularly now that she was so accustomed to hearing it.

Éponine stared up at him—eagerly—wanting to sketch a mental picture of every line to his attractive, perfectly-accentuated features. "Is that all?" she managed after catching her breath, watching as Enjolras's blue irises flickered curiously.

"No," he answered after an agonizing pause, "that's not all."

Enjolras stepped closer, this time without any hint of the former hesitation in his advances. His lips parted and drew down to capture hers, their taste savoring and all-consuming. Éponine thought her legs would surely melt into the floor. She fell back against the door frame, allowing Enjolras to close in on her, his hands cupping her face as their passionate pursuit of each other's mouths deepened.

The chemistry between them was magnetic and Éponine desperately craved more, an urge that had been building for far longer than the kiss they had shared at tonight's ball could bring. Touch me elsewhere, she yearned to request, echoing her desires aloud through a series of low moans into his mouth.

Without warning, Enjolras abruptly pulled away, and Éponine couldn't prevent the whimper that escaped her lips. They were both breathing excitedly, staring into one another's eyes as though the moment would never end.

Unsure as to why he would draw away from her so suddenly, Éponine extended her hands up to gently touch his face, and moved in for another kiss. To her disappointment, though, Enjolras cut her off with a mournful whisper.

"Éponine..." he started.

"What is it?"

He surveyed her face for a long time before confessing, "If I continue to kiss you like this, I fear I won't be able to stop."

"Then don't."

Éponine tried to kiss him again, but Enjolras swiftly took her hands in his and guided them away from his face. Her feet sunk back to the floor. He was tall enough that she had to reach onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and all she could think about at present was kissing him more. She stared up at him, pouting for lack of understanding.

"I'll take things too far," he insisted quietly, projecting a small smile that made her heart flutter excitedly. "And we've only just explained your frequent visits to my room to Monsieur Gillenormand, Marius, and Cosette. This isn't a good idea."

"But..." Éponine knew he was right, and her shoulders caved in defeat. "Yes, you're right..."

Enjolras inched closer, his nose nearly brushing hers. "Believe me, I want to take things further, but..."

"But not like this," Éponine finished, her brown irises now tolerant and calm as they peered up into his.

"No," he repeated, "not like this."

Another smile etched across Éponine's face. She stretched onto her toes again, thrilled when, this time, Enjolras allowed her another kiss—one that was slower and less intense than the last but just as enticing. It was the best manner of illustrating her appreciation of the man's respect for her, for it was not something she had ever been granted before. Enjolras seemed to sense her gratefulness without a word.

So, she considered in awe, he actually wants to respect me.

That much was clear. Enjolras wished to honor her person rather than simply take her as other men had, who had done what they wanted and then discarded her like a weathered rag that no longer served its use. Manhandling and being forced on by unwanted—and undeserving—creatures were to be a thing of the past, and it gave Éponine considerable pause once their lips parted.

"Thank you," she whispered, the appreciation in her voice self-evident.

With another gentle reflection in his eyes, Enjolras nodded. "Good night," he offered before turning around, his handsome figure trailing away out of sight.

"Good night," Éponine called after him, though she suspected he hadn't heard.

She watched his form disappear around the corner, and her fingers came up to rest upon her mouth, delicately feeling the lingering warmth Enjolras had left. Grinning to herself, Éponine giggled as she entered her room and shut the door.

The days that followed became a transition for all residing in the house. Éponine's education with Enjolras continued on as usual, the awkward tension of attraction between them fading into something entirely new—driven by a constant awareness of one another's proximity, movements, subtle glances, and the brushing of skin on skin. Wandering eyes and the need to touch a hand or a cheek were difficult to avoid, especially when alone in each other's company.

The sparks of attraction only intensified as the days wore on, luring tutor and pupil closer to one another with each and every lesson. By the end of Éponine's sessions, their chairs were normally touching, his knee brushing against hers, or with their hands interlocked, residing together until broken by the appearance of Cosette come to snatch Éponine away for the afternoon.

Monsieur Gillenormand and the Pontmercies took their friends' newly formed attachment in stride. Cosette was surprisingly—to Éponine—supportive once she got a firm handle on the truth, delighting in their union more than Éponine would have ever imagined. It was nice to have a confidant who not only understood her attraction but encouraged its natural progression.

As the first signs of spring made their presence known, the ladies resumed their daily garden strolls, their friendship blossoming into an establishment of true friendship. For Éponine (and she sensed for Cosette as well), it was a first, and wonderfully reassuring to have the confidant of another young woman in her life. Both were unaccustomed to such ties. The only female companion Éponine had been able to rely on from time to time was her sister, and, even then, they never formed the bond that she found in Cosette.

Who would've thought...

Éponine found herself opening up to Cosette with considerable ease, taking comfort in having another to confide in about the peculiarities of physical attraction, all of which were entirely new to her. She relied heavily on Cosette's input and direction, grateful to have the quiet beauty to turn to for guidance on 'such private matters of the heart.'

When it came to the topic of women, Enjolras also developed a newfound confidant in Marius. Their brotherly bond had long been attached to their unified passions in law, politics, and the pressing needs of those less fortunate, but the topic of women was more confounding than Enjolras cared to admit. His ever growing attraction to Éponine seemed to be hitting him from all directions and, not being able to make heads or tails of such emotions, Enjolras sought Marius's advice and reassurance.

"You talk as if love is a foreign object, Enjolras!" Marius would usually snicker at him, if nothing more than to provoke and aggravate his close friend; it too often worked.

"It is foreign to me, Marius!"

"What is it you fear?" Marius asked more seriously, to which Enjolras flinched.

"I'm not afraid of these feelings, Marius."

"Well, just don't shut yourself down is all. She obviously cares for you."

Enjolras sucked in a calculated breath, the vulnerability behind his reply creeping through. "You think so?"

Catching that flicker of uncertainty, Marius's smile spread. "I know so! Good God, man, are you even aware of how she looks at you?"

Enjolras couldn't answer that question, and it only earned him more laughter at his expense.

Getting to know Éponine was only the start of forming their attachment. In the weeks that followed their first public kiss on the steps of the Beaumont estate, the process of getting to know one another, as well as innocent gestures of exploration, became an everyday affair. Walks together through town or throughout the house offered ample opportunities for personal discussion, as well as for proper kissing in darkened corners where they didn't risk exposure. For the most part, it seemed that the house's disgruntled maid seemed to have given up on trying to degrade Éponine—at least to her face.

What began as a few casual strolls a week turned into quite extensive daily walks, their bond growing stronger and deeper the more parts of themselves they revealed. The process was slow-building, yet steady, and just the pacing that the two of them preferred. Topics ranged from personal tastes to views about the ever changing climate they lived in.

Éponine enjoyed Enjolras's engaging stance on the under privileged, which he spoke of increasingly with a returned enthusiasm, whilst he took pleasure in learning of Éponine's interests in music, art, and now literature—or what she was capable of reading so far.

Discussions regarding their futures were nearly always broached with a certain naiveté. Éponine wondered, despite not wishing to dwell too much on what might not happen, if hers and Enjolras's futures would indeed coincide. Was it too early, or even improper, to hope for such things? There was no mistaking their attraction any longer, but what did that mean in the long-term, especially when the future was riddled with uncertainties?

There was also the still-sore topic of the barricade, and what Enjolras endured during those early dark days. Éponine's story was well-known, and she made a point of opening up to Enjolras further about the nightmares that still robbed her of sleep on occasion, normally involving traumatic events that happened in the home or on the streets growing up: being thrashed to the point of blacking out, panhandling that ended badly, or being overrun by groups of ruffians whose faces she, sadly, knew well and preferred to forget.

Enjolras would listen quietly, visibly hanging onto every word, but Éponine sensed the fury manifesting behind the piercing blue eyes—intolerance for the horrible life she had suffered at the hands of her parents, and, most especially, the men she rubbed elbows with, all in the same pursuits for food or shelter or, in their cases, pleasure. Éponine's survival at the barricade didn't plague her the same way it did him, however, and he reminded her of his surprise on that point numerous times.

"The convent helped me make peace with it," Éponine would calmly reiterate, hoping that sharing her suffering might ease Enjolras's own despair. "And besides, I went through far worse in my life. Nearly dying was quite peaceful, really, to the hell I'd already gone through."

"Yes, I suppose you're right..."

Enjolras's twisted countenance explained everything without words: he desired a sense of tranquility and acceptance of what happened that awful day—most desperately—but hadn't found it yet. It was in these quiet, solemn moments that Éponine took Enjolras's hand, safeguarding it in hers, and allowed the silence to illustrate her understanding of his pain.

Late one evening, as night settled in and everyone retired for the evening, Éponine found herself alone in her bed and thinking on the man just down the hall. She was quite cold, though not for lack of heat in her room. Rather, she heard noises coming from Enjolras's room—intense cries in the dark that abruptly stopped after several minutes.

Éponine hadn't crept into Enjolras's room much at all since the unfortunate revealing of that particular secret. Neither was interested in getting caught again, since it would only allow for more damaging insinuations to circle. However, listening to Enjolras's occasional night terrors was frustrating, nonetheless. She suspected he still heard hers on occasion as well, though he politely never made mention of them.

Tonight, they had been louder than usual, and that concerned her greatly. She had also been tossing and turning for hours since awakening from a nightmare of her own—a grueling memory of her father beating her near senseless for losing the money he and his band of thieves had stolen from a gentleman's home near the center of town. She had completely forgotten to stitch the hole in one of her pockets, and her mistake cost her dearly. A severe beating ensured that Éponine would never let something like that go amiss ever again.

Éponine was relieved to hear Enjolras's cries cease, but her heart pounded still. Ever since she awoke, it hadn't lessened. If anything, hearing his distress whilst lying in bed and unable to do anything about it made her heart beat faster. Now, even with no longer hearing him, her heart wouldn't calm.

To hell with Molly. To hell with all of it.

Throwing back the covers in defiance, Éponine draped her shawl around her shoulders and determinedly made her way to Enjolras's bedroom. This time, she made sure to look about for any signs of movement before determining that Molly wasn't sneaking about, and entered Enjolras's room undetected. Surprisingly, he was awake and sitting up in bed, causing both of them to startle.

"Éponine!" he breathed in alarm, after she quickly shut the door with a hand clutched to her chest.

"I thought you'd be asleep," she whispered back, her heart thrumming excitedly.

"Yes, well, that's beside the point, isn't it? What are you doing here?"

"I... I heard you."

Enjolras sighed and leaned back against the headboard, the tension leaving his face rather quickly. "I thought we discussed this. No more—"

"I know, I know, but... I couldn't calm down."

Enjolras surveyed her thoughtfully before beckoning her to his bed with his finger. Encouraged by the softness she could perceive in his eyes, Éponine smiled and settled down on the bed before him, encouraged further when he quietly took possession of her hand.

"Did anyone see you this time?"

"No, I swear it."

Enjolras raked his fingers through his curls, which Éponine then realized she would much like to do some time, and sighed, "Very well. You may stay here for the night."

Éponine's smile stretched, encouraged. "You say that as though it's a terrible burden to you."

"You know it isn't," he returned, an understated smirk emerging amidst the darkness.

Éponine giggled readily and started to rise from the bed when the tug on her hand stopped her. She peered down at Enjolras, who was motioning her back to the bed.

"No, here," he insisted, his voice soft and inviting. He scooted sideways to make room.

Éponine's breath caught in her throat. "Your bed?" she questioned, feeling both foolish and suddenly anxious.

If Enjolras was as assiduous about the idea as she, then he wasn't showing it. He nodded his head and answered simply, "Yes, unless you'd prefer to be confined to that uncomfortable sofa chair instead?"

"I... Erm, no, I wouldn't."

"Then come."

Enjolras's hand fell out of hers so that he could prop one of his extra pillows out for her to lay her head down upon. Éponine slowly unwrapped her shawl and tossed it over the side of the bed. Her mind was reeling with all manner of thoughts, but she forced calmness and crawled into the man's bed with caution, turning towards the window—away from him—and drawing the covers up to her neck, all the while trying to keep her head. If she wanted to fall back asleep, she wasn't sure this was going to entice her beating heart and active brain to do so.

Aware of the warm body next to her, though not touching, Éponine turned her head, unsure of what to say. She could sense Enjolras's proximity and detect his slow, steady breathing, which made the hairs on her neck stand up.

Was he looking at her? Should she say something? How had they progressed from hand-holding to this?

Go to sleep, Éponine, for God's sake!

Éponine swallowed hard and resumed her gaze towards the window, where a faint, bluish moonlight seeped through the glass, casting a soothing glow throughout the room. After a couple minutes of staring intently, she spooked when Enjolras spoke up, disrupting the quietude.

"You can relax, you know."

"Oh! I... Erm, yes, I know."

Éponine tried to settle into the comforts the bed provided, willing her mind to focus on the divinely warm sheets, the heavy blankets that made her feel secure and safe, although she would be much more snug and contented if Enjolras wrapped his arms around her—

Go to sleep, Éponine!

Enjolras's eyes fluttered open when he heard her grunt and observed her from behind for a time, clearly trying to settle down. "Can't sleep?" he finally asked, to which she muttered a defeatist "No," into her pillow that made him privately smile.

Finding her mere presence calming enough, only she didn't seem to feel the same, Enjolras surprised them both by inching closer, enough that she could feel his chest at her back. Gradually, he wove an arm around her body, and his hand came to warmly intertwine through hers. Éponine jolted at first and then quickly went slack in his protective fold. The weight of his embrace was a comfort unlike any she had ever found, and, soon enough, Éponine's eyes closed and her mind settled into an unconscious state. Enjolras soon followed, the last thought in his mind about how remarkably easy the simple act of snuggling was.

Snuggling, Enjolras?

Éponine started and pried her eyes open. Dawn was fast approaching, but all she could manage was a groan. She was simply too damn comfortable to move, although something was drastically different this morning, until her mind kicked in and she recalled where she had ended up.

A satisfied smile curled the edges of her lips as she sunk her head into her pillow, listening to the warm, even breaths that tickled the nape of her neck. Her legs were somehow entangled with furred limbs that weren't her own. A thigh was gently pressed against her backside, an arm loosely draped over hers, and fingers linked through her own that every so often twitched gently in sleep.

No, she wouldn't dare move—ever—if it could be helped.

Éponine was just beginning to doze off again when Enjolras's hand squeezed hers, and her eyes immediately reopened. Twisting her head back to meet his, she found the incredibly soft look he bore both serene and all too enticing to ignore. Her breath hitched, and her stomach began to flutter.

"Good morning," she heard him mumble sluggishly against her shoulder; it was so captivating that Éponine nearly forgot to answer.

"Good morning."

Enjolras shifted slightly behind her, though he appeared too tired to move away, and she wouldn't encourage him to do so. After staring at each other for several seconds, Enjolras rubbed a thumb against the hand that he held.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, to which her smile extended.

"Yes, I think I did."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Biting back a sudden wave of nerves, Éponine wiggled her body more fully onto her back and stared into his eyes, so close to hers that she could make out her own disheveled reflection.

"May I kiss you good morning?" she inquired in a tenderly affectionate whisper, which awakened Enjolras from his drowsy state.

"You may," he returned just as quietly.

A fresh smirk crept across his face as Éponine leaned in to capture his lips, their caress warming the atmosphere around them. The kiss was slow and fragile at first but escalated quickly into one of passion and eagerness, a craving to taste ever more of one another. Soon, Éponine's nightgown-clad figure was fully turned around and pressed against his chest, their hands netted around each other.

A sudden knock at the door, however, disrupted everything. Their lips broke apart and both shot up in bed, looking appropriately disheveled with bed hair to match.

"Monsieur? I've brought you a towel and ran your bath for you."

Molly!

Éponine found herself gnashing her teeth together as the pair of them tore out of bed, Éponine scrambling for her shawl and Enjolras frantically looking for a way to hide her discovery.

"I'll be right there!" he ordered, snatching Éponine by the arm and motioning her behind the door frame.

At that very instant, the door swung open and Molly stepped inside, unannounced, causing Enjolras to react by shooting her down with a deathly glare. "Oh! Forgive me, Monsieur," she stammered, noting that the strapping gentleman was dressed in nothing but an oversized, V-neck shirt that fell to his mid-thighs. From where Éponine hid in shadow, she could make out his well defined calves. "I - I didn't hear you."

Thankfully, Éponine was well concealed, with Enjolras now gripping the handle to prevent the maid from peeking around the corner. She had to cover her mouth to keep from busting up laughing, however. Between Enjolras's heated glare and the crimson blush he wore, each were enough to break her reserve. Molly's stuttering was additionally amusing, even if she couldn't see the old woman's reaction.

"You should never enter a gentleman's room unannounced," Enjolras hissed at Molly with far less civility than what she was used to; Molly's face easily conveyed her humiliation at her blunder, if it was one at all. "Surely, your employers would've told you that?"

"I, erm, y - yes, Monsieur. I do apologize."

Seizing the towel from her grasp without a word, he stared her down, blocking her from a certain individual hiding beyond the door, crouched and trying desperately not to laugh and thereby give herself away. "That will be all, Molly, thank you."

Molly muttered something under her breath, no doubt a half-arsed apology, when a thought came to her and she spun around. "I'm terribly sorry, Monsieur, but would you happen to know where Mademoiselle is this morning?"

That stopped Éponine's suppressed giggles. She clung to the wall, her heart pounding furiously against her chest. She caught the flicker of anger in Enjolras's eyes, which she sensed would surely be enough to dissuade Molly from bothering him further with her whereabouts.

"I don't know, Molly," he uttered through clenched teeth. "Perhaps she decided to go down early for breakfast. Do you wish to check my personal quarters to put your mind at ease?"

Throwing the door open wider, Éponine panicked, wondering why the hell he would suggest such a thing, until she heard Molly stutter another apology for troubling him and scurry away out of sight. Éponine breathed a sigh of relief as Enjolras shut the door with more force than was necessary.

"That nasty, old hag has it in for you," he issued irritably, his nostrils flaring.

Éponine smiled and closed in on the small gap between them, drawing an arm about his waist. "I daresay she does," she tittered lightly, which brought Enjolras out of his distemper.

"I wish there was a way to get rid of her."

Éponine's eyes flickered. "Don't say that."

Shocked, Enjolras's brow knitted. "Why ever not?"

"Molly's been out of line, to be sure, but she doesn't deserve to be fired. She's trying to survive as much as me or anyone else."

"And yet, she's deceitful and dishonest!"

"That may be so..."

"You're actually defending a woman who tried to tarnish your reputation to our friends?" Enjolras eyed her over, befuddled. "One doesn't need to be deceptive to survive and ruin other people's lives in the process!"

Éponine admired him softly. "I'll give you that," she chuckled, which earned her a less harsh expression from Enjolras. He slowly stepped away from her embrace.

"You had best get back to your room before she goes searching about the house for you."

Éponine resigned with a heavy sigh. "I suppose I should."

Enjolras opened the door and stepped into the hallway to ensure it was safe for Éponine to make her escape. Éponine was somewhat distracted in admiring the man's less-attired ensemble to be overly concerned with Molly. Gesturing that the coast was clear, Éponine, too, tiptoed into the hallway and drew upward to smack him with another passionate kiss on the lips.

Then, the pretty brunette spun on her heel and dashed down the hallway, her lighthearted laughter trailing after her as she disappeared around the corner. Enjolras watched her go with his own quiet amusement and a toss of his head, unaware of the admiring smile he bore for her.

A/N #2: I've picked up the pace a little bit with this chapter, but don't assume that I'm going too fast yet. Nothing M-rated is going to jump at you in the next chapter or several. ;)