Chapter Four: Scarf (Part Two)

Terrified that Adrien will find out that his birthday gift wasn't from his father, Nathalie decides to get rid of the evidence. When a blue scarf is discovered in a bag of clothes about to be donated to the needy, Chat Noir isn't impressed - and neither is Ladybug!

"Nathalie."

The owner of the name flinched so hard, her glasses almost slid off. She knew that particular tone well; however, she had never heard it used by that voice before.

Pushing her glasses back into place, she slowly raised her head. Adrien Agreste was once again standing across from her desk.

She had never fully appreciated the resemblance between father and son before. They had never looked more similar than right now: though the eyes that were levelling an imperious stare at her were vibrant green instead of ice- blue, they had the exact same penetrating glower. Though she somehow managed to keep her outward composure, she felt as if she was pinned to her chair.

"Yes, Adrien? What can I do for you?"

Adrien knew from the outset where he to find his answers. Plagg had only been minimally helpful - "Yeah, I guess it was your scarf I was sleeping on! Someone must have scarf-napped it while I was napping, I didn't see who through my closed eyelids!" - but he hadn't had too many suspects to choose from. Nathalie's jacket had been in the bag, directly on top of the scarf; only she would be audacious enough to take it from his room, though she certainly wasn't entitled to mess with his things. Her motive stumped him, however; so he had resolved to get it out of her under interrogation.

He knew he was acting a lot like his father, an idea that would normally repulse him - but frankly, he didn't really care right now. Despite the fact that she was technically his employee, Nathalie only answered to his father; to get what he wanted out of her, he would have to adopt the same brand of authority. He raised the very best imitation he could muster.

"Would you care to explain how this got into the bag of clothes to be given away?" He raised the hand he had concealed behind his back, holding up the blue scarf.

He realized then that his act was perhaps too effective; Nathalie slumped in her chair like a defeated woman. She glanced quickly at him and away again, in an exact mirror of the way Ladybug had looked at him earlier.

"I'm sorry, Adrien."

It took him all his time not to gape at her. Nathalie never apologized! - no, wait, that wasn't quite true. He had heard her apologize - to someone other than his father - just once before, on the day of his birthday, when his father had failed to so much as wish him 'many happy returns'. The facts were starting to align, though he didn't much like the picture they were forming.

"This wasn't from my father, was it?"

Nathalie reluctantly shook her head, heaving a sigh. "No, it wasn't. I know I shouldn't have done it, and I'm certainly not proud of it, but... I didn't have any other choice. Your father asked me to purchase a birthday gift for you, and I'm sure he must have reminded me multiple times well in advance, but I forgot all about it up until the actual day, and I-"

That was a bald-faced lie. Adrien knew Nathalie just as well as she knew him; he knew she would never forget a request like that, especially one coming from Gabriel. He didn't really begrudge Nathalie for the falsehood: she was just doing what she was paid to do, taking the blame for her employer's shortcomings. But it certainly didn't inspire any feelings of forgiveness in his father's direction.

"-would have personally chosen something that you would approve of," Nathalie went on, "but there was an akuma attack that day-"

"The Bubbler," Adrien interrupted, his voice tight.

"Yes." Nathalie had spoken to Nino herself, just before it had happened; she knew how personal the incident had been for Adrien. "I didn't have a chance to purchase anything, and with no other options, I... w-well, there was a delivery there for you, so I removed the label from it, and... said what I said." She stopped, staring down at her lap with a shame-filled gaze. After a moment, she opened a desk drawer and laid something on the table. He realized it was the key to her office door.

"I can't apologize enough for my incompetence. I'll vacate the premises within the next two hours; as soon as my letter of resignation has been prepared, I shall have it forwarded on to-"

"No, wait-" Adrien's entire demeanour underwent a drastic change; now he was the apologetic one. He took a quick step over to bar her path from the desk to the exit. "I-I don't want to fire you! I just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard to rein in his temper. When he looked at her again, it was with the usual, polite expression that she was accustomed to. "I won't say anything to Father. I just want to know exactly happened. If... the scarf isn't from my father-" though he had entirely suspected this, it was still difficult to say out loud "-then who is it from?"

"A young girl brought it. I didn't catch her name; it was on the tag, but I, er... I threw it in the trash. It's long gone now."

Adrien heaved a frustrated sigh. That was the other thing he was almost certain of: he was sure that Ladybug had brought him that scarf. It was the only reason she would react like that when she saw it, why she would ask him about it. He winced when he thought of how she must have interpreted it when she saw the scarf - her scarf - in the bag to be given away!

"What did she look like?" he asked, his voice filled with far more urgency than he had intended. He was gripping the edge of the desk, unintentionally looming over Nathalie. To his great disappointment, she only shook her head.

"I honestly couldn't say. She seemed... rather nervous, I suppose. And I think she had dark hair..."

Adrien straightened in an instant. Dark hair-! That sounded like Ladybug; though the whole nervousness thing didn't seem to fit her. Maybe she had been anxious for him to like her gift...?

He realized Nathalie was watching him curiously. "Thank you, that is all I wanted to know." His tone of voice had become stony again; however, it softened to add: "Don't worry, there won't be any consequences. Father won't ever hear about this from me. In return, don't ever mislead me like that again - alright?" He was rapidly cycling between being worried for her, and feeling absolutely furious - though his anger wasn't really directed at her. After all the things his father had done or failed to do, this was a whole new low!

She nodded meekly. "Thank you very much, Adrien. I truly am extremely sorry. If there is anything else I can do-"

"Thank you, I'll let you know."

So saying, he turned on his heel and strode moodily from the room, gently smoothing the soft blue fabric between his fingers all the while. Nathalie slowly reached out and replaced her keys in the desk drawer, her eyes gazing wonderingly on the empty door frame all the while.

"Hey, dude, haven't seen that scarf in a while. Good to see that it still suits you!" Nino grinned at his own words; Adrien smiled weakly in return.

It was true, he hadn't worn the scarf to school in a long while. He had been saving it for instances when he saw his father - what a pointless exercise that had turned out to be!

He had spent the long night before school fuming over it, and wondering whether Ladybug really had been the true author of his birthday gift. He had put it on today, curtly telling Nathalie that he wished to walk to school instead of being driven. Perhaps trying to make amends after their previous discussion, she had actually allowed him to make the short stroll unescorted. All the way to Francoise-Dupont College, he had watched every dark-haired girl that passed him with an interrogative stare, searching for some sign - a sudden gasp, a cry of recognition, anything that might have given his Lady away in the middle of the busy street. He hadn't had any luck - she might live far across town, for all he knew!

He had passed the Tom-Sabine Boulangerie on his way to school. The table and banner had both disappeared, so she must have come back for them after all. If only he had been there when she had, he could have explained it all to her; at this rate, he might not get the chance until the next akuma attack, which wasn't ideal.

He managed to give his best friend a genuine smile. "I see you wearing that exact same cap every single day; good to see it still brings out your eyes!"

Nino chuckled, giving him a friendly cuff on the arm. "So what if my dad isn't a famous fashion designer who can stitch together a new hat for me every other week!" Adrien apparently wasn't able to conceal his dark expression as well as he had hoped; Nino noticed his face fell at his words. "Hey, what's the matter? Did you have a falling out with your dad or something?"

"Yeah, you could say I did," Adrien admitted, trying not to let his tone become scathing. "I had a one-sided falling out with him - since he doesn't even know what fell! I found out that he didn't get me this scarf at all. On my birthday, his assistant had barely any notice that she was supposed to get a present for me; she panicked and grabbed one that happened to be lying around, claiming to me that it was from him. He never even knew that it existed."

Nino drew in a sharp breath. "That is so epically wrong!"

"I know," Adrien muttered, leaning back in his seat with a groan. "The worst thing is, I have absolutely no idea who it's actually from!"

"No idea whatsoever?" Nino wanted to know.

"Well, Nathalie said a girl brought it to the house. But that's all-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa- it's from a girl?!" Nino pitched forward in his seat so fast, he just about fell out of it. "That's awesome, dude! It means you totally have a secret admirer!"

Adrien shrugged. He could hardly tell Nino who he thought that 'admirer' might be. "Yeah, it's great - except for the whole 'secret' part."

"We'll just have to do something about that." Nino slung an arm around his shoulders. Adrien couldn't help but smile. Up until now, he's never had a proper friend like Nino: one who can comfort him, no matter how insurmountable the things in front of him seemed to be. His best friend couldn't exactly solve all his problems for him - he didn't even know about half of them - but it was so much better now that he didn't have to face them on his own.

"We'll start a thorough search right after class," Nino declared, rubbing his hands together. "No scarf-sewing maiden in Paris will escape our notice! Hey, doesn't your dad keep a whole heap of interns? Maybe one of them-"

"No, it wouldn't be," Adrien interrupted him. "Nathalie would have recognized any of them, and she didn't know this girl."

"Huh. A design student, perhaps? Someone trying to impress the famous Agreste clan?"

Again, Adrien shook his head. He'd been thinking through such things all night. "A design student would likely come up with something more elaborate to get our notice. I mean, it's not the fanciest piece of work-" he patted the scarf's folds apologetically as he spoke "-even if it is very well-made. I don't think it was made to impress my father. It's more... personal than that."

Something made just for him. Someone who had bothered to think of him, to make him something specially, with the simple hope that he might like it - how did you search for someone like that?

Nino smiled wryly. "See, already you're eliminating some of the suspects! A bit more detective work, and I'm sure we'll track the right girl down."

"I don't know if we can." Adrien leaned back in his seat, despondent again. "There are a lot of girls in Paris who are into sewing. It's one of the fashion capitals of the world, you know."

"True." Nino frowned, folding his arms; the scope of their proposed search seemed to have just dawned on him. "I guess every school has a group of enthusiasts, and there's a lot of schools in the city. Remember that derby-hat contest the college held last year? A whole heap of girls from our class made entries for it. Maybe someone like th-"

He suddenly lurched forward, nearly slamming his head into his own desk; he had to hastily put out his hands to prevent his glasses from smashing. Adrien turned his head to look at the perpetrator of his assault: Alya, sitting behind Nino, had kicked him sharply in the back, sending him flying. It must have hurt, given the way he was now rubbing his hip, glaring at her over his shoulder.

"Do you mind?!"

"I do actually," Alya retorted. "I hate boys who have to be noisy of a morning!"

Adrien opened his mouth to say something placating, then stopped. He only now noticed just how quiet the girls were today; come to think of it, he had been resting his head on the desk behind him for a while now, with nary a peep from its owner.

"Where's Marinette?" he asked.

Alya seemed somewhat mollified by his question, though she glanced unhappily at the empty seat beside her. "She's not coming in today. I got a text from her, saying she's got the sniffles. Silly girl was probably up late working on something, as usual, and caught some sort of-"

"Hey, that's who you should ask!" Nino interrupted, cutting her off. "Marinette sews - I mean, she won that hat competition! Maybe she knows other girls who are into that sort of thing? You could ask her-"

Adrien was looking at Nino as he spoke, but he caught Alya's actions out of the corner of his eye: she was glaring at the back of Nino's head, gritting her teeth and clenching her fingers as if she wanted to throttle him. A piece of the puzzle dropped definitively into place.

"Marinette made the scarf, didn't she?"

Nino gaped at him; the possibility apparently hadn't occurred to him. Still frowning furiously, Alya opened her mouth to deny it; then apparently reconsidered.

"She did," she reluctantly admitted. "She probably won't want anything to do with me once she finds out that I told you, but... yeah, she made the scarf." Apparently foreseeing the question - one of several - he was about to ask, she went on: "She was too nervous to give it to you in person, so she took it to your house and left it with your assistant. When she saw how happy you were that your father had supposedly given it to you... she decided not to say anything, so as not to disappoint you." She heaved a sigh, smiling fondly to herself. "That's the kind of soft, selfless dork that girl really is."

Adrien was stunned. To think that all this time, Marinette had done something like that for him, then sat behind him not saying anything about it... Just how many times had he worn the scarf to school, parading it in front of her, boasting what a great job his father had done on it? She must have been...

"Did you say she's not feeling well?"

Alya blinked at him, surprised by the sudden change of topic. "Yeah, she's not up to coming in. I told Ms Bustier that I would take some worksheets to her-"

"Can I do it?" Adrien asked without thinking. Seeing the appraising expression Alya was giving him, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd like to see her and apologize. It must have sucked, putting so much effort into something and not even getting any credit for it. I mean, I should have known, her hat was amazing, and this is just-"

He stopped, unable to properly put it into words. He held up one end of the scarf before him, examining the neat, delicate seams. To think that she had sat stitching this scarf for hours on end, putting so much work into it, then not gotten even so much as a simple 'thanks' in return...

Alya considered him long and hard. He must have somehow managed to win her approval; after a minute, she said: "Sure, I'll give you her address."

Marinette's parents welcomed him enthusiastically when he stepped into the bakery and explained his errand. Sabine came out from behind the cash register to properly speak with him; Tom stuck his head out of the kitchen, gave him a cheery wave, and disappeared again in a cloud of flour. Adrien thought of the reception Nino had received at his house - that Marinette must have received when she came to deliver his scarf - and cringed internally. It was a wonder she hadn't been akumatized like Nino had!

"So sweet of you to come all this way during your lunch break," Mrs Dupain-Cheng said, straightening a box of macaroons on the counter as she spoke. "Can I offer you something to make up for it? Perhaps a roll or croissant?"

"No thank you, Madam," Adrien replied, tempting though the offer was. He already considered himself on the outer with Marinette - the last thing he needed to do was wheedle free baked goods out of her parents on top of everything else! "Would it be alright if I took these up to her? She might like to see a familiar face; it can be lonely, having to stay cooped up at home all day." He knew as much firsthand.

Sabine beamed at him. "Of course, I'm sure she'd enjoy that! Go right up, if you dare - I don't think it's anything contagious. The silly girl was probably out on the balcony til late last night, staring across at the park." Seeing his uncomprehending expression, she dimpled like an excited schoolgirl. "Didn't she tell you? Paris' heroes asked our bakery to supply some pastries for them to hand out to the needy - Ladybug and Chat Noir themselves requested it! Tom and I were so excited, and it was such a worthy cause - we can always spare a bit of bread for those who need it. You should ask Marinette about it; she organized it all, I think she got in contact with them through her friend Alya's blog. We had to resist running across the park to have a look all night - it wouldn't be right for a couple of gawkers to turn up, when it was supposed to be for those poor people! But I'm keeping you for far too long; go on up. If you change your mind and want some food to take with you when you come back down, just let me know."

"T-thank you very much, Madam," Adrien managed to reply, his mind whirling. So the croissants really had been from this bakery... He wished he could tell the kindly lady how good they had been, and what good use they had put them to...

He went up the stairs to the living quarters above, clutching his wad of worksheets apprehensively. Pausing on the stairs with the trapdoor just above his head, he knocked politely.

"Yes?" a voice instantly answered from within. Adrien didn't know what to say - he had so many things to tell the girl on the other side of the door, he didn't even know how to announce himself. Hoping he didn't overstep the mark too much, he pushed the door open and went up, groping for his first choice of words as he went.

He found Marinette sitting hunched on the floor, staring at a partly-dismantled paper pattern that was laid out beside her. He had expected to find her in her pyjamas, huddled under a pile of blankets with a box of tissues at her side; but she was actually dressed in her usual clothes, except for a pair of house-slippers and a chunky grey cardigan in place of her jacket. An overcrowded pin-cushion lay within her reach. She frowned at her work, not bothering to look up.

"There's no need to check on me," she said, without glancing at him. "I'm fine, so if the shop's busy, go right on back, I can get myself something to eat la-" She finally raised her head, stopping short when she noticed who it was.

Adrien gave her a hesitant wave. "Hi."

He inwardly scolded himself for starting off in such a lame way. Then again, maybe it was just as well; Marinette looked like she could use a bit of time to recover herself. She was staring at him open-mouthed, eyes wide, as if he was a ghost. Now that he knew who had made the scarf, he understood why: her gaze was riveted on his neck.

"I, er... I heard you weren't well, so I thought I'd drop these worksheets off to you." He put the pile of papers on the desk. That had been his supposed reason for visiting; at least Alya and Ms Bustier would be happy with him now.

"And, uh... I wanted to thank you for this scarf. You made it, didn't you?" He waited for a reply, but none came; Marinette appeared to be frozen in shock. She didn't affirm it, but didn't deny it either, so he continued uneasily. "I'm so, so sorry; I thought for some reason that it was a gift from my father. Don't be mad at Alya, but she explained to me why you didn't want to tell me. That was so selfless of you."

He bit back a huff; it was more protection than his father deserved, but he kept such comments to himself. "It was really good of you to go to so much effort for me. I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I just had to drop by, to give you my apology and my thanks. This scarf is awesome; I wear it all the time, it's so-"

"Liar!"

Marinette's sudden outburst made him jump backward in surprise; it was lucky he wasn't anywhere near the trap door, or he might have fallen through it.

"Don't lie to me!" She went on, her fists balled, glaring furiously up at him. She pushed herself up off the ground with a strength and dexterity he had never seen in her before. Even though she was half a head shorter than him, she was surprisingly threatening as she waved a pointed finger in his face. "I hate liars! I know the truth, so don't you dare try to hide it from me! You don't really like that scarf at all! You didn't even want to keep it - you were going to give it away! I don't care if you know that I made it or not, but if you're going to just throw away all my hard work-"

"Why would... you think that?" Adrien asked, managing to get a word edgeways into her rant. "How do you know-?"

How did she know that the scarf had ended up in the bag to be given away?

Marinette's mouth flew shut; she looked like she had just said something she didn't mean to say. She gave him a frightened stare, then hastily turned away from him.

That was it! That was why Ladybug's behaviour -and Nathalie's, to some extent - had looked so familiar! He had been looked at in just the same way before by Marinette, back when she thought that he had stuck gum to her seat! Geez, she must really hate him right now...

"Marinette... I, um..." He trailed off, not sure where to begin; she turned a little further away from him, refusing to even look at him. Baffled, he likewise glanced away, politely keeping his eyes off her as well. His gaze roved half-heartedly over reels of fabric, piles of half-finished sketches, a dress-maker's dummy-

It was a wonder he hadn't seen it straight away, conditioned as he was to focus on things that were red with black spots. Draped over the shoulders of her dressmaker's form was a very familiar scarf: red with black spots, a fluffy black pompom fixed to either end. He had seen it before, less than twenty-four hours ago...

"For someone as unique as myself, an original was a must!"

That was what she had said, so there could be absolutely no mistaking it: this was the same scarf that Ladybug had worn!

Was it a Marinette creation as well? But if it was Ladybug's, why did Marinette have it? Why would she-

The scarf wasn't the only spotted thing in the room. Behind the dressmaker's dummy, half-hidden by it and propped against the wall, was a folded banner. He could just see the polka-dot letters among the drape of the canvas. Memories of the banner Marinette had made for Alix and Kim's race flitted through his mind. He had thought the style looked vaguely familiar...

If it had been just one thing alone, he might have still had some doubts; but both things together confirmed it in his mind. He was absolutely certain - he had found his Lady.

"It really was from you..."

Marinette turned at his words, startled; she had never heard such awe in his voice. He was looking gently at her, green eyes bright. "When I found out the truth, I liked to think it was from you, but it was more than I hoped... sorry, that's selfish of me. I shouldn't be so happy about it when it obviously upset you so much. No wonder you reacted the way you did, when I went to fetch a scarf for that little boy and pulled out this one, of all things! You must have been just as shocked as I was... I'm so sorry for hurting you like that... my Lady..."

He smiled kindly at her. She regarded him with the same stare; if possible, her eyes and mouth were even more agog than before. He knew that the quick, alert mind beneath the pigtails was putting the pieces together, just as he had done.

"...Chat Noir...?" she finally dared to ask; she looked like she was holding her breath.

He grinned at her. "I would never throw away something you made for me, my Lady. How could I? It is paws-itively purr-fect!" He rearranged the folds of the scarf, smoothing it tenderly. "I loved this scarf because I thought it was from someone important in my life; I just didn't know which one before. But from now on, I'll treasure this because it's from you, my Lady."

He took a few tentative steps towards her. She still wasn't saying anything; her hands were clasped over her lips, and her eyes were bright. How had he not noticed it before - the fabric of the scarf was only a shade lighter than the deep, beautiful blue of her eyes!

"...I-I'm g-glad you l-like it, Chat..." she managed to say, in a thick voice.

He gently lay a hand on each of her shoulders. He had comforted her like this before, back when Lieutenant Roger's criticisms had gotten to her. It seemed to work now: she shivered a little, then relaxed slightly beneath his touch.

"I love it, Buginette." He resisted the urge to say I love you too, but held back - that would have been way too much for her! Instead, he asked: "Can I take a seat? I should explain properly. And my kwami will be wanting his lunch..."

Without a word, she nodded. He took the desk chair, laying a piece of camembert on the table for Plagg, while she shakily lowered herself back onto the floor. Something small and red drifted from its hiding place, heading toward a plate of cookies upon the dresser; it waved to Adrien as it passed, and he shyly waved back.

Well, her kwami confirmed everything, if he had still been in doubt at all!

He told her all about the whole mix-up - Nathalie's predicament, the removed label and the lie, the black duffel bag, the surprise discovery - apologizing repeatedly as he went. The shock of it all slowly seemed to sink in: his monologue gradually became a conversation.

"I'm glad your father's assistant didn't lose her job," she said at last, with a sigh. "It doesn't sound like she really deserved to be fired."

Adrien quietly nodded in agreement. If she had raged and railed in righteous fury, he might have been moved enough to dismiss Nathalie after all; but he was glad that his Lady was being her usual compassionate self. It was just one of the things he loved best about her.

"And it wasn't your fault either, Adrien," she added, finally looking directly at him. The sympathy and understanding he saw in those blue eyes nearly took his breath away. "You were deceived even more than I was. I'm sorry you had to go through all that, and thank you for telling me the truth."

He smiled at her. That was the Buginette he knew and loved! "It was the least I could do; I know you despise liars. I'm just glad that you seem willing to accept my apaw-logy!"

"Of course!" She tactfully ignored the pun, but he caught her tiny grimace; it made him grin even wider. "I'm just glad that you like it."

"I think it's paw-esome!" he declared, rocking back and forth happily in her chair, enthusiastically waving the ends of his scarf in the air before him. He looked completely unlike the dignified, composed Adrien Agreste that she knew; more like a kitten batting an imaginary ball of wool. Like her chaton.

She giggled at his antics. It was the best sound he had heard all day.

"Well, I guess I'd better get back to school," he said, glancing at the time. He scooped up Plagg, who had been chatting to her kwami, and stowed him back in his pocket.

"Yeah, I should go too." She shrugged out of her cardigan and grabbed her usual jacket; her kwami zoomed over to where her purse lay on the desk, waving at him again before phasing into it. Seeing him watching her get ready in surprise, Marinette blushed. "Uh, I'm not, um... actually that sick. I just... needed some time..."

"Oh." He had thought since he arrived that she hadn't looked that ill to him - just a bit pale, slightly puffy around the eyes. Now he understood: thinking he had discarded her gift, she hadn't been able to face him at school. He dropped his head in shame; he really had wounded her very badly...

Gentle fingers cupped his chin, raising his face to meet her gaze. "It's okay, Minou. It was just a misunderstanding. We're fine now."

He smiled at her, catching her hand and bringing it lightly to his lips; she flushed beautifully, and to his delight, didn't ward him off like she usually did. "I'm glad that you're feeling better now, Princess. But wrap up warmly; you wouldn't want to catch a real chill."

She recovered from her blush enough to roll her eyes. "Yes, Papa Chat," she muttered, making him laugh. She crossed the room, but ignored the polka-dot scarf; she reached into a drawer and pulled out a soft pink-chenille creation instead.

"That one is for later," she said, following his gaze to the dressmaker's dummy. "We have patrol tonight - don't we, Chaton? It will be even colder then."

He chuckled; the sound echoed around the small room, almost like a purr. "You're right, as usual. Just as well I have the warmest, snuggest, most totally amazing scarf in the whole city to keep me warm - Gabriel Agreste himself would be so envious to own a Ladybug creation!"

She laughed lightly, ruffling his hair just below where his kitty-ear would normally be. "Take good care of it then, Adrien."

He winked, looking at her with an unspoken significance in his eyes. "Oh, I will."

Several hours later, with school over and homework (mostly) done, two teenagers raced across Paris, keeping in-step with each other as they swung and somersaulted effortlessly over the rooftops.

Their scarves trailed out behind them, caught in a chill gust of wind coming off the Seine. One of them was bright red with polka-dots, to match the wearer's suit; the other was a soft cerulean, just a shade lighter than his companion's blue eyes.

Author's note: there, done!

I've had a bit of feedback on the divided Part 1/2 format; so far, it seems most people would prefer it in one big, long chapter. Anyone else have any thoughts on it? I feel bad withholding it when so much of the story is already written; but I understand that people would rather wait for the whole thing than be left with a cliffhanger. Let me know what you think! ~ W.J.