I do not have power over the Labyrinth, Jareth or much else to be honest - not even this story sometimes.

My promise for story climax is unrealised, sorry all, it's still a chapter away.

Many thanks again to my awesome Beta nothingnothingtralala, she edits, she bakes, she charms the pants off me, all hail her awesomeness!

Sarah spent the morning feeling harassed.

She stood in the doorway of a Prada boutique chain, flanked on either side by surly men in suits. Bruno was to her left and the man with the horrible teeth was to her right; Bruno called him 'Russo'.

This was the sixth boutique they'd visited and Sarah was now thoroughly sick of it.

Bruno sniffed. "Right miss, pick out out what you like." They'd been playing this game all morning.

Sarah had argued vehemently in the first store that she wouldn't accept anything from Carl, or his ilk. In vain, largely; when she had refused to choose, Russo had appeared behind her, breathing suggestions with an acrid wheeze over her shoulder. Bruno had already made it painfully clear that they would be leaving with purchases, or they would not be leaving. At first Sarah had sought to out wait him, knowing that if Carl expected her presence for dinner his patience would eventually waver.

She had reckoned without Russo.

The man was slime; he revolted her on a level only slightly lower than that of Carl. It was odd that she now imagined the days of confinement with Bruno as her only brooding guardian with a fond reminiscence. Russo got under her skin. He was persistently nearby, invading her personal space or attempting to touch her 'accidentally'. He was like a pushy shop assistant, only more revolting, pressing items of clothing against her body when she was unguarded. This unfortunately seemed to be quite often, despite her best efforts. He was continuously praising her physique and insinuating that certain items would be complimentary to her body shape, urging her to try things on and prove his tastes. Always, always, with his rotten toothed grin, the stink of his fetid breath giving rise to bile in the back of her throat. Eventually she took items into the changing rooms simply to be free of him for a moment. Even then he lingered closer than was necessary, too close for comfort. So they had shopped. How easily her will had crumbled before him; anything to move the day forward. Even the moments spent in the car, in between boutiques, he was at least as far away as the front seat; it was a blessed relief, albeit brief.

Bruno had promised this would be the last store.

She entered the glamorous interior with a sigh – she knew that this might be a dream come true to many other girls, but how was she to enjoy something that would only drive her further into Carl's possession? Bruno had stopped in the doorway and seemed to be discussing something with Russo in a low hushed voice. Sarah's heart sank when he stalked from the store, leaving her alone with Russo. Her remaining 'shopping companion' frowned deeply, glancing up at her without moving forward; to her relief he merely waved her on, indicating she should venture further into the store. It seemed he suddenly had no intention of dogging her every step.

Did Bruno have words with him?

She was thankful, whatever the cause. So far her plan to discover more about Carl's empire was not going well; it didn't help that she couldn't stand the company of any of its associates. Idling around a table of tastefully laid out blouses, she could not find the strength to even pretend to be interested. Noticing her vapid inattention a prim looking, well-dressed store clerk, felt the need to intercede and rescue her.

"Looking for anything in particular?" she asked. Her voice was warm, but it was a cold gaze that raked over the loose t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers Sarah was sporting.

"Uh, no I-" Sarah broke off. Her mind felt fuzzy and unfocused; she had not slept much after all.

"Oh is this your beau?" grinned the woman, her face lighting up. Sarah felt sick.

"No," she answered. She turned, expecting to see Russo creeping up behind her. The Goblin King stood next to her, his attention thoroughly engaged with a silk chemise blouse posed artfully over the table. "I mean yes," coughed Sarah. Her mind fumbled with the idea that the clerk could actually see him. This was the only person, other than herself, to actually concede his presence. In all the time she had known him, past and present, this was a first.

"What a handsome couple you make," gushed the clerk, smoothing her dark hair back flirtatiously. "Will you ask him to pick you out something? I can see he has rare tastes."

If you only knew.

A smile played across the Goblin King's mouth; he could hardly help but eavesdrop on them when he was less than a metre away. It seemed that he was attempting to hide a behind his gloved hand. Making a disdainful sound in his throat, he turned to the next table as if he were displeased by the attention, flicking a spangled scarf back and forth between his nimble fingers.

"I hope I didn't upset him," murmured the clerk. "He seems to be in rather a fey mood."

Sarah bit her tongue. It took a moment to recover and remind herself that there was no way this woman could actually know what he was. She coughed awkwardly to cover her surprise.

"Oh," she muttered, her throat burning. "You have absolutely no idea." As the clerk moved away nervously and returned to the store front, Sarah watched the Goblin King. His silky, golden hair. The challenge upon his soft lips, the remembrance of which made her flush. His cold piercing eyes, wont to cut her if he stared sharply enough. What was he to her exactly? Saviour, confidant, friend… lover? Or perhaps an enemy? Somehow the last seemed very unlikely.

What did she want him to be?

She had feelings for him, definitely. She realised that she wanted him to feel something back; she wanted him to care about her, to love her maybe. There could be no such connection the way things were. Sarah was playing things too safely, too close to the chest. It was true that she had opened up to him, but the power struggle between them remained. He had no power over her; she would not let him reclaim that power. Love was vulnerability, and that frightened Sarah. She knew the shadow of him was not solely to blame for her past failed attempts at romance. She thought about what stood between them, and wondered at the mystery of it, but most of all she wondered what the Goblin King made of it all.

What are you doing here? She bit the words back. "It's good to see you," she smiled. Indolently, he glanced over his shoulder, as if seeing her for the first time; there was no genuine smile, just his usual smirk. It was enough, he was here and that had to be enough. "Will you pick out something for me?" she asked playfully. His wintery eyes turned on her, and she could see her jest had somehow soured his mood.

Fey indeed, she wondered if all of his kind were as mercurial in their moods.

"Are you enjoying your sojourn?" he sneered. "Such opulence; how lucky you are, Sarah." It sobered her.

"No, I am not," she replied tartly, trying her best not to be offended. "The only luck I've had during this unending nightmare is your continued presence." It took him back, she could see that; he blinked hard at the reply, obviously having expected their usual banter. Suddenly, nervous at her own declaration, she rewarded him. "Must be your positive outlook," she sniped lamely, "it keeps me absolutely buoyant." It didn't have enough sting to hide the honesty of the former statement. The Goblin King regarded her seriously.

"A gift chosen by me, but bought by another man," he scoffed lightly. "I think I am not the only one with rare tastes." Sarah rolled her eyes. It was true enough, she liked him after all.

"These things… They're not my choice," she explained. "I don't want any of this." He regarded her warily.

"Then you're a fool, Sarah," he told her. She sighed bitterly.

"So be it." He watched her steadily then, like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite get the better of.

"Have I told you that time repeats itself, Sarah?" he asked.

"So you've said," she nodded.

"Then you should understand that everything that happens, even this, has already occurred in the past in some form or another." Sarah frowned, her brow furrowing at such an idea.

"So you're saying we have no free will?" she asked, "that all events, past, present and future will play out in a continuous and monotonous loop?" He pursed his lips warily.

"Even so," he agreed, "I have seen the beginning, and having lived it once, know the ending." You're going to be okay Sarah.

She remembered his words to her then; could it be he really did know the ending of this tale, that all would be well? No. She might be okay, but that did not mean that everybody else would be, that did not mean that everything would end well.

"If I do not like the pattern time is spinning, I will do all I can to break it," she argued seriously. "I will make my own ending." The Goblin King gave her a bemused look.

"Just like humans to think they can alter time itself to suit them." Sarah shrugged.

"You do," she accused. He inclined his head, watching her from beneath his lashes, but gave no reply. "You cannot tell me that you have never seen fate change, or circumstances unravel due to a different course of action being taken," she reproached.

"I can tell you in simple terms, Sarah, that a different course of action is never taken," Sarah opened her mouth to retort, and snapped it shut as Russo's hand slapped down on her shoulder in an overly familiar manner.

"Who're you talking to, princess?" he asked. The Goblin King's eyes narrowed at the contact and then flitted away. His lips were pulled into a smug grimace. Would that she could answer that question easily: who was he to her exactly? "Was there someone 'ere?" Russo continued. Glancing back over her shoulder, she could see his blank but curious expression. What a fine game, she realised. Russo couldn't see him. Her lips crushed together in a tight line; the Goblin King was taxing her patience.

"Just talking to myself," she told them both, "like a crazy person." Russo snorted.

"Did'ye find summing you like?" Sarah stepped away from the clasp of his sweaty palm. She wondered mildly if she'd need to shed a skin just to be free of the taint of Carl and his men, if she ever were to escape them.

"Nothing that matches my gloves," she told him. She held her gloved hands before her, wriggling her fingers and feeling the cool touch of the leather around them.

"Does it matter?" he rasped, a puff of his hellish breath assailing her. Sarah caught the Goblin King's eye, and held it.

"Oh, it matters," she told him.

Bruno's absence gave her the opportunity to leave the boutique without a purchase; it also made her uneasy beyond words. She was alone in the car with Russo, or so it must seem to him; the Goblin King had chosen to travel with them, humming to himself, and sneaking the odd glance in her direction. Russo fiddled with the radio as they drove until music blared from the speakers, loud and rough.

Sympathy for the Devil.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at the Goblin King, but he merely closed his eyes and leaned back into the soft velvet of the car seat. By the time they arrived at the spa, he had disappeared again. Sarah was hurried inside for a buffet lunch, of which she partook very little. She was aware that over the past few days she had eaten almost nothing, but she could not seem to find the stomach for it. After lunch she was petted and prodded by differing groups, who seemed to be planning the reformation of her body; it made her extremely uneasy. Her first session saw her wrapped in clay and palm leaves and left to sweat for twenty minutes or so in a room built to emulate a beach theme. The floor was covered in sand, and a small pond had been set up in one corner with a tape deck nearby, playing the dull crash of ocean waves on a continuous loop. It was all very tacky, but done innocently enough on the whole; someone had even painted realistic looking seagulls onto the room's sky-blue walls to try and set the mood. Sarah smiled at the silliness of it.

After that she was washed down and scrubbed thoroughly, before they moved her on to another room. The new room was painted in bright colours, flowers blossoming in every corner that could be reached by a brush. The floor was littered with crushed petals and the strong scent of incense hung in the air, the smoke of it giving the room a slightly ethereal feel. Before her lay three massage beds, the shelves on the wall stocked with oils and fresh towels. She eyed the arrangement with mistrust. A large, overbearing woman with fists like a mountain entered the room and grinned widely at her.

"Take off your robe and we'll get started." Sarah returned the smile awkwardly.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," she told her.

"Lass, you've been made naked, dirtied and cleaned, what's a little oil going to hurt?"

What indeed.

Cautiously, Sarah removed her robe and lay face down on the table, finding comfort in the soft pillow laid out to support her. The woman pulled a fresh towel from the shelf and covered Sarah's lower body with it, making her feel a little more secure, but only a little.

"I'm Glenda," she boomed cheerily, "you just relax and I'll work those kinks out for you."

Sarah was surprised by Glenda's skill; despite the fearful size of her hands she had a delicate touch. Unwittingly her body relaxed beneath Glenda's attention, and she smiled sleepily, thinking of how adept one must be to overcome size and impart comfort in such a trade. It was her last thought before she fell asleep.

Waking later, she blinked drowsily, feeling ashamed that she had nodded off and left herself exposed on the table so carelessly. Turning her head to look for a clock, instead she found herself, once again, staring into the Goblin King's fathomless eyes.

She swore, loudly.

Pressing herself firmly against the table, she glared at him. He lay languorously on his side, reigning over the massage bed beside hers. Hooded eyes twinkled slightly, his head propped up by his elbow, the better to study her.

"I'd say the exposure of this side of your body is harmless compared to past transgressions," he commented. Sarah pushed herself flat against the table as she glowered at him. "You seem to be indisposed quite often Sarah," he smirked.

"You could always try knocking," she growled.

"Where's the drama in that?" Sarah rolled her eyes; she wanted to get up, but not enough to expose herself. "Really though precious, a massage with a complete stranger," he complained, "is everyone who isn't me allowed to touch you? That's hardly fair." She could see from the sudden dawning comprehension on his face, that he had realised the irony of his own words.

"I'm sure you know my response for that," she taunted.

"I'm sure I do," he added, chagrined. Pensively she stared straight ahead: it was not her first awkward situation with the Goblin King; she doubted she'd be so lucky as to find it was her last. Her luck had run out, after all.

Remembering their previous conversation, Sarah turned towards him. "You said that actions never change to alter outcomes," she recalled. "How can that be?" The Goblin King waved his hand apathetically, as he if had never expected more from the events that transpired around him. "You're lying," accused Sarah, "There's no way the future has only one set path". He smiled grimly at her, reproachfully.

"What do you know about the fae, Sarah?" he asked, changing the subject. Sarah gave him a begrudging smile, she knew a lot of things, some of them conflicting. She'd done a lot of reading on the subject manner after leaving the Labyrinth, but not recently.

"I know that not everything written about them by humans is true," she answered cagily.

"Such as?" he pressed.

"Such as that eating fae food will imprison you in their realm. I ate a bite of peach and I was able to return home." With a frown, she remembered the rotten core of the peach, and the worm within. "It was gross." He chuckled throatily, as if sharing a fond memory.

"Quite so, but some things written are true," he told her, "such as the honesty of the fae." Sarah took a sharp breath.

They tell no lies.

She glanced at the Goblin King moodily. "But you telling me that could still be a lie, a lie about telling the truth." He shrugged. "And it doesn't mean you have to answer things truthfully, just that you can't lie outright, saying nothing of lies of omission." He smiled at her, his sharpened teeth glinting through the haze of incense.

"I never said otherwise," he declared.

Sarah thought on what he'd said. It didn't really change anything between them, but it did make her reflect on earlier conversations she'd had with him. If he truly were always honest… Well, he hadn't admitted to anything which could make her feel completely reassured about her wishes, and he'd certainly never admitted to feeling anything in particular for her. She felt slightly defeated.

But what nobody knew was that the Goblin King was in love with the girl, and had given her Certain Powers… The sentence floated into her mind unbidden. He hadn't admitted to giving her Certain Powers, but he hadn't directly denied it either.

Breaking her reverie, she turned to look for him, but found he was gone again. Cursing, she pushed herself from the massage bed, and quickly recovered her robe, slipping back inside of it and feeling the relief of being concealed again. As she exited the room, one of the attendants caught her elbow and redirected her to the parlour, which apparently was her final destination. Thank goodness for small mercies, she thought, she was almost looking forward to returning to the solitude of her hotel prison.

The parlour was decorated in pastel pinks and blues. White, fluffy clouds had been painted across the walls, and fake turf ran where carpet might have been laid. The room was much larger than the previous two, and the expanse offered comfort, compared to the constricted feeling she now realised she had experienced in the previous rooms. This was the room for hair and makeup: baskets of products stood by ready for use. Hair swatches lay open on the large vanities across the back wall, each with a comfy leather chair set up before them. Scissors and hairdryers littered empty benches, as well as large brushes, tweezers and hair straighteners. It took some time for Sarah to talk her attendant down. No heavy cutting, no colour, just a trim. She was pushed into having her hair styled though, and promised it would only take as long as the make-up component. She sat in the comfy leather chair and allowed herself to be indulged. Her grip on her patience was waning, but this was the last stop for the day, so she gritted her teeth and obliged them. Once the make-up was finished she found she was surprised; it was very tasteful. Her eyes were enhanced to look larger, her mouth pouted more prettily, but overall it was almost as if she were not wearing make-up at all. The hairdresser was wrong about matching the beauty attendant's schedule, and apologised profusely; it seemed she had not expected Sarah's hair to be quite so full and lustrous as she had found it, and struggled with curling the individual sections. There was nothing for it but to wait – she could hardly leave with half of it complete – although she was sorely tempted. When it was finished she smiled at the appealing wave of her heavy locks, almost forgetting that all of this finery was bestowed by Carl.

It would be dangerous to forget that.

The two attendants gushed over her and one of them ran to fetch her purchases from Russo. Sarah was ushered into a changing cubicle and a dress and a pair of shoes were pushed through for her to change into. Within the low lit, curtained room, she could smell the musky scent of incense still clinging to her. With difficulty she changed, trying not to brush the green silky fabric of her bodice against her made-up face, as she pulled it over her head.

Her best self stood in the mirror, looking back at her.

Green silk clung to her curves gently, folding neatly and settling around her knees in a flourish. The green of her dress caught the same colour in her eyes and enhanced it, further encouraged by the smoky eye-shadow and mascara darkened lashes which framed them. Her cheeks were softened by a rosy blush, her mouth lustrous and inviting. Gentle curls of dark hair curved around her face and dropped elegantly against her naked flesh, a stark contrast on her pale, bare arms. Her long, toned legs eased prettily into open toed, emerald heels, which added compliment to her dress. She stared at her own reflection as if it were that of a stranger. It was a very surreal feeling. Stepping out of the changing room, she felt like a woman transformed. It unsettled her a little, as if she had just lost something of herself and might never get it back. Her attendants prattled at her, flattering her enthusiastically as she returned to the car.

"Pity you don't have any jewellery to go with it," one sighed dreamily. Instinctively, Sarah reached for the hollow of her throat and the white gold locket which had been so familiar to her, but of course it was no longer there. Russo gave her a low whistle when he saw her, exposing his teeth once again to do so.

The odd feeling of unease did not leave her during the car ride.

She keenly felt the absence of the Goblin King, unsure of whether or not she wanted him to observe this change. She dearly wished she were dressed up only to attend the celebration of her 21st birthday. It had only been days ago that she had ventured forth to celebrate it, now the turning of the year was all but forgotten.

She did not wish it aloud, of course.

Russo drove them to a new hotel called 'The Manse'. It could not have been more different to 'The Sloan', in which her journey had started, if it had tried. The sky was darkening and small garden lights lit the path to the hotel entrance like a plane run way. Horizon pools stretched out on either side of the path, dropping away to give the illusion of an infinite plane of water, light sparkling within their darkened depths. Silvered slate glittered below her heels, whose rhythmic clack rebounded and echoed out into the twilight. As the glass doors of the entryway slid open, soft music beckoned from within. Elaborate wall gardens climbed adventurously, flattered by soft skylights. The reception desk glowed under pillars of granite, sculpted columns rising up on either side, and a tiled fresco of the God Loki enamelled across the base of the desk. Russo led her to an awaiting glass elevator. Sarah stared at it, her mind awhirl. Glass, like Cinderella's glass slipper; would that she could leave it behind and run from the ball. Splintered memories returned: a chair in her hands, the need to be free of a bauble full of dancing and magic, the Goblin King.

They travelled together to the top floor of the building. The roof garden restaurant nestled there was a thing of beauty. Strings of fairy lights hovered like stars above their heads, waiting for the heavens to darken enough that their sister selves would appear and join them in the sky. Candles fluttered like butterflies in the soft breeze, the darkened curl of ferns dancing in the shadows of its touch.

And there was Carl and the Goblin King.

They were as at odds with one another as this hotel was with 'The Sloan'. One a thing of unrivalled beauty, gold streaks in his hair reflecting the candlelight as he lazed languidly against the oversized throne, placed so unexpectedly by the table. The other hulked like a sinister foretelling, his eyes hollowed and greedy, his fake smile twisted by the shadows. She found her seat across from Carl, next to the Goblin King, and settled herself into it. She wasn't sure if Carl had booked the whole restaurant or whether it was simply coincidence, but they were all alone.

"You look lovely, Sarah," smirked Carl. The Goblin King merely looked; he took her in as if he were burning every strand of her hair, every eyelash and freckle into his memory permanently. Then his face was shadowed and he turned away from her.

"What a wonderful day you seem to have had, Sarah; you're positively glowing."

Sarah felt hurt by his curt tone. Hot venom rose in her mouth, a rebuke ready on her lips. She let it fall away. He could not see her past Carl's glamour – this, none of it, was her doing. It was disappointing that he still saw her as some spoiled girl, believed she might enjoy Carl's attentions. It was more than disappointing really, it twisted her heart cruelly, but it wouldn't do to dwell on that, it hurt too much to think about his indifference. Instead Sarah forced a weak smile at Carl, letting some of her caustic anger slip into the look she gave the Goblin King, he would expect that.

"You're a little late so I've already ordered for us both," grinned Carl.

"How thoughtful," sniped the Goblin King, "you really shouldn't have." Sarah ignored them both.

"Fifteen minutes until the draw, Sarah," said Carl. "I've got people below monitoring it; they'll call me when the results come in." Sarah nodded. Her mouth tasted like sawdust. "If all goes well, Sarah, I hope you'll consider a more permanent arrangement with us." She shot him a hard look.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Carl opened his hands towards her and she instinctively drew hers back, pushing them beneath the table and into her lap.

"I'm one person down at the moment, which means there's a job opening available." Sarah blanched. She thought of Cindy and shot a look at the Goblin King, but he was ignoring her, quite obviously trying hard not to look at her.

"As I told you earlier, I'd like to go home once the debt is settled," Sarah answered warily. She thought she saw the Goblin King stir at her reply, but when she glanced his way he was as still as a statue, still focused on something out of sight.

"Sarah," murmured Carl quietly, "I'm offering you the choice between being my partner, or my prisoner, that's all." Sarah sighed; all her fears were finally realised. It was almost a relief. There would be no going home, not without a wish. Like the Goblin King, it wasn't as if Carl had ever directly lied to her, he had just let her interpret the situation as she liked, lending her false hope. As she glanced towards the sullen figure of the Goblin King, Carl's phone buzzed in his jacket.

The night hung on a thread as he listened in silence to the voice on the line.

His sickening smile told her all she needed to know, his flinty eyes burning covetously as he reassessed her once again, greed overflowing.

"Sarah," he smiled into the phone, and then he stopped. A frown creased his brow as he continued to listen.

"Bruno?" he asked the mysterious caller. "What do you mean, you can't find him?" Rising from his chair, Carl scraped his oversized stomach across the table as he squeezed himself free of the seating arrangement to better continue his conversation in private. Sarah watched him walk across the terrace in an agitated fashion, stopping in front of the elevator and gesticulating wildly as he continued the exchange. When she turned away from him the Goblin King's eyes were upon her.

"What will you do, Sarah?" he asked, and she thought she could hear a trace of vulnerability in his voice. The stars were just starting to blink awake above them in the darkening sky. She watched them reflected in the Goblin King's unguarded, guileless eyes. For the first time his face was open and exposed to her, and she could see that it mattered to him, the choice before her meant something, and he was afraid.

She smiled.

She smiled because she loved him, even if she couldn't ever trust him, even if she couldn't always understand him. She smiled because she would tell him about her feelings, even if it made her vulnerable, even if he did not feel the same way. She smiled, because she knew that telling him would give him power over her, and she was okay with that, she believed in him.

She smiled and she looked into his star-filled eyes.

"I think I have one final wish to make," she said.

So didn't I promise you this was the much awaited story climax? Sorry it was a lie, just like the cake.

I had intended it to be so, prematurely. I intended to time skip Sarah's day of opulence straight to dinner with Carl, but then I realised that was a little bit cheap. In the original Rumpelstiltskin the days of luxury are just as important as the days of gold spinning, and so skipping over them is a bit bad mannered. Not to mention that including this content meant I was able to push in a few things that I was starting to think might have to get cut, and I'm glad I didn't because we have some more nice exchanges between our favourite pairing.

I've been so well behaved it would be bad of me to try and skip an event now to move forward, no matter how much I'm longing for the next chapter - which was about 70% complete before I even wrote this so you should see it VERY soon.

Thanks for reading guys, the next chapter will be a bit darker, you might want to light a candle.

Aleta Wolff: Sorry, I'm Australian - which is why I use British English in my writing. I'm not sure why you thought I was Brazilian, I can't see anything on my profile that says so? I'm sure this explains why I do not reply in Portuguese (I don't speak Portuguese), I run your reviews through a translator so I can reply to them. I hope your year ended well, Sarah is taking some of those feelings from you this chapter!

Jay Madeleine Griff: Although it was an accident it certainly helped me smooth my way into the last chapter, I almost wish I'd made more useful mistakes like this (almost)

Honoria Granger: I think Carl would make a rather excellent goblin, the idea of Jareth torturing him endlessly as one of his subject certainly lends an air of charm. Sarah's final wish is on the way, can she resolve everything?

artseblis: The question is WHAT DOES JARETH WANT? I promise you'll all know next chapter - I think you might all be a little bit surprised, not by the answer but certainly by the outcome.

Kaytori: The origin of the 'Certain Powers' will be revealed next chapter, I'm excited like a school girl with an overdose of sugar. Yes he was rather repulsive, so much so that I had to have him return in this chapter to make him completely unforgettable. I'm glad I gave you a good morning pick me up, reading your reviews give me the same feeling!

. : They're like a live wire aren't they? I think the banter and spark between them is writing itself, it's completely out of control - I'm no longer writing this story, merely chasing after it.

Mercycalling: Thank you, I will. Enjoy the future chapters.