It's a peaceful and humid evening. The sound of chirping crickets reaches us from the open windows. It's a sound I've begun to find as soothing as a lullaby; I'm so used to hearing it on summer nights. It's not actually summer yet but it's been a hot and humid spring and the crickets are at it almost every night.

Peeta and I are lying in bed together, side by side, naked and sweating from both the humidity and from the physical activities we've engaged in after bedtime. It's funny how bed, a piece of furniture I've always associated with rest, has become a place where I partake in a lot of physical activity. It's even more funny to think that sex, the activity Snow and his government wants to force us to engage in as part of our punishment, has turned out to be something that binds us together. When we weren't having it we didn't have a good marriage. Now that we have it we're grown closer than ever before.

I turn my head and look at Peeta, feeling a pleasant stir in my heart. I love admiring his body, covered by the sheets only from the hips down, and especially enjoy seeing that light sheen of sweat on him that serves to remind of what we just did together. He is so relaxed after sex, there's no frown on his face or worry in his eyes. A few curly strands of ashen hair stick to his forehead while the rest of his hair is one unruly mop on his head. I don't think he enjoys the pain that comes with me tugging on his hair in the heat of the moment but he's never told me not to.

Little by little his defences have dropped and my own inhibitions and concerns have begun to fade. Peeta takes good care of me between the sheets and together we have evolved the act between us to the point where we both are comfortable and it feels great for us both. Even though we just finished having sex I feel a pleasurable ache in my body at the thought of his open-mouthed kisses, his caresses, the way he moves his body in symbiosis with mine. I wonder how he can be so good at it, how he can know what a woman likes and doesn't like, how he seemed to figure it out before even I did. The pleasant feeling inside of me suddenly goes away when it dawns on me that I know the reason why. I'm not his first lover. There have been other girls before me.

I've thought about that before, several times, but not since we started having sex together. Now the thought grabs hold and gnaws at me, raising a number of uncomfortable questions and mental images that I feel a deep hatred of. Peeta touching another girl the way he touches me. Peeta looking at another girl the way he looks at me in bed, eyes full of lust and want. Some other girl making him moan, making him look the way he looks when he's feeling intense pleasure. I think of some other girl teaching him what to do and him being eager to learn, eager to please.

I'm so caught up in these thoughts that I don't even notice Peeta studying me, his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

I blink, rolling over on my side and propping myself up with my elbow, doing my best to push those thoughts aside.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine."

His hand reaches up and with his index finger he lightly draws a line from my shoulder down to my waist. The touch is nice but I wonder how many other people he's done that with. Should it even matter?

"You're not that good a liar" he says. "You don't have to tell me, but that you're saying everything's fine when something's bugging you makes me think you're not just worrying about small potatoes."

Realizing it was foolish to think I could hide my state of mind when we're in an intimate moment like this together I decide I might as well spit it out.

"How old were you when you first…"

I trail off, hoping he will understand what I'm asking and pick up the thread. Instead he just looks at me patiently, still seeming a little worried.

"It's okay" he says. "Whatever it is, just ask."

"I guess I'm just curious… if you had… if your first time was before we were in the Games or…"

"Before" he says without pause.

"Oh." I frown, realizing his answer didn't give me much actual information. Thankfully this time he picks up on my line of thought.

"It's okay to ask me about my previous experiences. What do you want to know?"

I swallow hard, wondering if I honestly want to know or if I'd rather be blissfully unaware. Then I realize there's no such thing as blissfully unaware. Whatever I'm conjuring up in my imagination might be much worse than what actually went on so I'm probably better off getting answers from him.

"How old were you the first time?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly from nervousness. Quickly I throw out some additional questions before I chicken out. "How many were there? Do I know any of them? How did you end up doing… sleeping with them? How many times?" I swallow nervously. "Was it with them as it is with me?"

"Wow" he says. "That's a lot of questions in basically one breath." He rests his head on his hands and turns his eyes towards the ceiling, still sporting a slight frown but seemingly much more relaxed now. "The first time was about a month after my fifteenth birthday. It was with Gemma Gardner. You remember her?"

Unfortunately I do and immediately I picture her in bed with Peeta, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow, her freckled nose wrinkling the way it usually does when she's smiling widely, her blue eyes matching Peeta's. I remember that she was part of Peeta's social circle but I don't recall them ever dating. How did they end up in bed together?

"She and I and two other merchant kids hung out a lot for a couple of years, right around the time when we started to get curious about kissing and touching and, eventually, sex. Gemma's folks work at the Justice Building and consequently were out of the house until around seven every night so we hung out there and, well…" He shrugs. "We tried kissing. We tried kissing with our mouths open. Touching above the clothes, that sort of stuff. Pretty tame. The other two in our little group then went out and got partners outside of our foursome so the kissing and touching stopped. Then one day I went home alone with Gemma after school, having had quite a row with my mother the day before and really wanting to have an excuse to stay out of the house for a few hours more. We sat on her bed and talked about all kinds of stuff, then got to talking about sex and how we were curious about it and eventually one thing led to another." He smiles crookedly. "It was pretty awkward. Limbs bumping into each other that aren't meant to do so during sex, smells and sounds we weren't used to, I… Well, I didn't know where to go exactly, if you catch my drift, so we had to figure that out together. Since we had almost no idea what the heck we were doing and were eager to find out about the actual merging part of it all we didn't spend much time on foreplay so it was painful for her and that made me feel horrible and…" He shrugs. "Gemma is a sweet girl, I can't say I regretted that afternoon per se, but it wasn't all I had heard it would be. It was fine, it was an experience, and I suppose the important part is that both she and I felt okay when it was over." He looks at my shyly. "Since I knew you were a virgin when we got married I was so damn nervous at the thought of being your first, of not being able to make you relax and be ready for it, completely terrified that I would hurt you and you would hate the whole thing and… Well, it was nerve-racking."

"You did pretty good" I offer, grudgingly admitting to myself that I'm glad his first time wasn't wonderful.

"Gemma ended up falling for a guy three years older than us a few months later and we drifted apart. Turns out it's difficult to maintain a friendship with someone you had an experience like that with when they are in a relationship. She's married to the guy now; they have two kids."

I'm not so glad anymore hearing that. He's kept track of her? I suppose it's very easy to do so when you live in such a small town but it bothers me nonetheless.

"How many others?"

"One. I was sort of casually seeing Nella Collins the winter before our reaping. We made out at a party and it was pretty nice and we started hanging out more and things progressed from there. It was an okay relationship, if you could call it that, but it never really took off, you know? I liked her but I was much more drawn to you and it turned out she was more into another guy as well so we parted on good terms. We slept together maybe four or five times while we were going out."

"Was it any good?" I ask.

He gives me an amused look and smirks.

"It was fine, thank you. Better than with Gemma since neither one of us was a virgin and we had at least some idea what we were doing but there wasn't any passion between us." There's a touch of warmth in his eyes when he looks at me. "It was most definitely not with her as it is with you. You're the one I've most wanted to sleep with. I think we're pretty good together in bed, don't you?"

I blush, which is ridiculous considering how intimate we've become over the past few months.

"I think we're pretty good together anywhere" I tell him.

The month of June arrives. It's a hot one this year, much to the dismay of Allie who is due to give birth one month from now. This year I don't go out to the woods with Gale on the morning of the Reaping. Instead I stay in, taking a very long bath with Peeta during which neither one of us speaks two words to each other. We just sit there on opposite ends of the tub, staring mindlessly out into space until the water has gone cold. What else is there to do, anyway?

A pair of twelve year-olds from the Seam are reaped. Everyone knows they stand no chance. I can't even pretend to believe they could make it through so I mostly avoid them. It's a terrible thing to do and I know I would hate me if I were them but they still have Haymitch and Peeta who are much better equipped to handle their training. I only step in to help coach the girl for her interview.

She gets a score of four. He gets a score of three.

They both die at the Cornucopia.

What to do with the rest of our time in the Capitol? I try to tell myself, and Peeta, that it's actually a good thing that they died in the very first hours of the Games. What would be the point of having them suffer in the arena for days or weeks when the outcome would inevitably be the same? Peeta doesn't answer. I think he thinks I'm morbid but at least he doesn't call me so to my face.

A week in to the Games Peeta, Haymitch and I are out in the Capitol, visiting a supposedly quaint little town square with a large, gaudy fountain. I find it hard to see how any place with buildings painted in neon green and red could be considered quaint but I have learned a long time ago not to question Capitol logic. We don't need to be out on the streets, not when we have no tributes left alive, but we risk going crazy if we stay at the Tributes' Centre so when Effie suggested this outing we weren't hesitant to agree.

Peeta and I stand close together waiting in line at a vendor stand, hoping to get something to snack on before we head back for lunch. The cobbled stones feel strange underneath my feet but I can see Peeta studying the patterns that form from the various colours the stones are painted in. While we wait I notice people looking at us, the way they always do in this city, and I can't help but wonder if there is a noticeable difference now. For the first time Peeta and I are lovers for real. We've seen each other naked, touched each other's bodies, made the other experience exquisite pleasure. Does it show? Do we interact differently now? Our body language, does it betray a deeper closeness than we've ever had in the past?

They gave all female mentors an injection to prevent conception when we first arrived, same as they do every year. That is, all female mentors but me. Not that it matters, the last thing Peeta and I have been in the mood for here is sex, but some part of me actually does wonder if someday I will be allowed and injection and if so how long it lasts.

"Lovebirds!"

Haymitch's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Want something to eat?" Peeta asks him, nodding to the vendor. There's only one person in line before us.

"You two can stuff yourselves at a later time. We're not here to enjoy the local cuisine. Have you seen the fountain? It's lovely."

Immediately I scowl. Who cares about the fountain? I'm hungry and we've been in line for fifteen minutes.

"Yeah it's nice" offers Peeta, somewhat hesitantly.

"You should come get a better look."

"Why?" I question.

"Because we're here to see the bloody lovely fountain."

I roll my eyes but Peeta manages to be patient.

"Give us a minute and we'll be there."

"Stop taking up space in the line, the two of you will be having lunch in forty-five minutes" says Haymitch sourly. "You really should come get a better look at the fountain."

I want to protest and tell Haymitch where he can shove the fountain but Peeta, endlessly patient and usually not as hungry as me, takes my hand and drags me from the queue to follow Haymitch. As we make our way towards the fountain I cast a longing look over my shoulder, sighing as the person who was standing behind us gets to place her order. Haymitch leads us right to the edge of the fountain and takes a seat on its marble edge.

"Why is the fountain lovely?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Listen up, both of you" says Haymitch in a hushed voice and I realize why he wanted us by the fountain, its splashing sound drowning out a lot of what is said.

"What's wrong?" asks Peeta worriedly.

"There's a camera somewhere in your bedroom. It's not filming at all times but is has been put there for only one purpose."

"Okay?" I say. I don't follow what he's alluding to but I'm convinced it's not something pleasant.

Peeta's face has gone pale.

"What do they plan on doing with the footage?" he asks in a strained voice. "Never mind, I already know the answer."

"Relax, I don't think it's meant to be broadcasted or sold" says Haymitch. "President Snow wants assurance that you two aren't staying chaste to try and loophole your way out of the children issue."

"I don't think we get off that easily" mutters Peeta. "No pun intended."

My jaw dropped a little at Haymitch's words, and now a little bit more at Peeta's, but I quickly close my mouth, realizing I need to act normal. That's a little bit hard to do though when you've just found out the president wants to watch you having sex with your husband. The mere thought of Snow seeing us do that makes my skin crawl.

"This is sick" I say with disgust. "How did you even find out about this?"

"At this point this is all a small-scale production" says Haymitch, ignoring my question. "A man called Plutarch Heavensbee will be overlooking it. I think one night of you two performing will suffice but I can't promise you that it will be enough."

"They actually assigned some guy to make a… sex video of us?" says Peeta, looking even paler now.

"He volunteered for the job" says Haymitch. "That's not important anyway. What's important is that you give them what they want. No matter how uncomfortable you find it. Okay?"

"Sure" I mutter. "Fine. Whatever."

"Excellent" says Haymitch dryly.

He walks off, leaving Peeta and me to ourselves. I look at my husband and see the horror in his eyes reflecting my own emotions. How are we going to be able to do this?

Two days go by without any mention of it. Peeta and I share a great deal of long looks that seem to summarize how we both feel about it but it's hard to know where we can have an actual discussion. I feel uncomfortable even getting naked to take a shower, knowing that there are cameras in the bedroom so why not in the bathroom too? Not that the idea of being nude bothers me per se, I've gotten accustomed to nudity by now, but it's knowing that such an intrusion is being made into our private lives and we're not even supposed to know about it.

On the morning of the second day since our trip to the fountain Peeta joins me in the shower and I realize he wants to talk. While he massages shampoo into his ashen curls he steps closer to me and talks in a low voice right by my ear.

"We should get it over with. Don't you think?"

I swallow and a shiver runs through me. Why does it feel like we're talking about having sex for the first time, like a couple of virgins who just want to check that rite of passage off their list?

"Yeah" I mutter with no enthusiasm. "Sure."

"I was thinking we could probably get away with something a bit… Well, I mean, we might not have to put on a big show. Haymitch said it's mostly Snow wanting to know we're not avoiding sex to avoid pregnancy."

"Yes but how are we supposed to be able to avoid pregnancy?" I ask in an angry hiss. "You can't pull out and we can't use a condom."

"I know. The best we can hope for is safe periods. And speaking of periods, yours is due soon, right?"

I blush heavily and look away. He has shared my bed, and for that matter shared bathrooms with me for a long time now. It's not like doesn't know I have periods, same as I've known from back in our days in the cave that he gets erections in his sleep. That doesn't mean I'm entirely comfortable with it, however. I didn't get my period regularly before I was a Hunger Games victor, we had too little to eat for my cycle to be like clockwork, and I hadn't gotten used to it yet when Peeta and I moved in together. I still worry about blood stains on the sheets in the morning even though Peeta would never comment or think less of me for it. It makes sense to me that he knows my cycle now, especially since I don't want to be intimate with him during those days of the month, but hearing him speak so openly about it makes me a bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah, so?" I finally mumble.

"That ought to be a pretty safe time, right?"

"I don't know" I say.

"Well I think it's our best bet. I suggest we do it tonight and keep it simple and underneath the sheets."

"You think he'll be satisfied by a bobbing sheet?" I question. "He probably wants to see…" My cheeks turn even redder. "Well, body fluids only you can make."

"You're right…" says Peeta, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rinse the shampoo out. "Under the covers is probably not acceptable. We should think of something, though. I want you to be as comfortable as possible, even if that really only can mean 'as little uncomfortable as possible'."

Wrapping my arms around him I lean in, resting my cheek against his broad chest.

"It's going to be uncomfortable for us both." I close my eyes for a second and sigh, drawing strength from his steadiness and closeness. "I'm so glad I have you. That I'm not alone in any of this."

His arms wrap around me in return and I feel his lips pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

"I am so glad I have you, too."

I can barely eat a bite that evening, my stomach a tight knot of nerves. Peeta has his poker face on and seems to be fairing alright but there are small tells in his body language that gives his true state of mind away. The slight tremble to his hand as he grabs the salt shaker. The way he seems to be washing some of his bites down with water, as if he can't muster to swallow otherwise. The way he occasionally runs his hand through his hair. He seems to be making an effort to seem calm and unbothered even to me so that I won't feel worse and because of that I call no attention to his bluff. If he's putting up an effort to seem unaffected for my benefit then I can put up the effort to pretend I don't notice for his.

We call it an early night, both of us wanting to get it over with. In an eerie fashion it all reminds me of how I felt on our wedding night, how nervous and uncomfortable I was that evening and how part of me wished I could just run. Tonight I at least know what I am in for and that it's not going to hurt. On the other hand I know someone is likely going to be watching. I don't feel comfortable with my brothers-in-law knowing we have use for condoms and now I have to have intercourse for someone else's entertainment. Though I suppose if I've killed for that reason a little bit of intimacy should be doable.

We try our best to play it off as just another normal night. We don't want Snow, or whichever one of his goons is in charge of watching and reporting, to catch on that we know what is going on and that we're deliberately putting on a show. Peeta makes small talk while we get ready for bed and I force myself to try and sound natural as I answer. I realize I'm failing quite miserably but trusted Peeta finds a way. As I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, trying not to visibly fret, he gets up behind me and stands on his knees, massaging my shoulders in a way that starts out comforting but by and by acquires a touch of seductiveness. He leans in and kisses me right by my ear and then talks soothingly to me.

"It really was horrible this year" he says. "Losing them both so early." His heavy sigh echoes my own emotions. "Poor kids. Far too young."

"They always are" I mumble.

"It will be okay" he says, only half-heartedly attempting to convince me. "We'll be okay. We'll get through it."

I reach up my hand and place it on top of his, causing him to stop massaging me with that hand.

"As long as we have each other" I say.

"Yes" he agrees. "As long as we have each other."

On an impulse I turn and look at him. With my hand I gently tug him down a bit so I can reach his lips with mine and I try to recall how I kiss him when I want to signal to him that I want him. It's not something I've given thought to in the past but I want to be able to copy it without making it glaringly obvious that it's an act.

Our lips part and we look at each other for a long moment. He's trying to be reassuring and on some level so am I but I find it near impossible. I don't want to have to do this in front of anyone. It's nobody's business but ours. They took our choice of spouse away from us and they will take at least one of our children so can't they at least let us have our intimacy to ourselves?

"We should go to bed" says Peeta in a voice a touch lower than usual. It reminds me of the way his voice seems to drop an octave when he's aroused and under different circumstances that would send a thrill through me. Right now all it does is remind me that it's fake.

All the same I nod and rise to get rid of the bedspread.

"Sure" I say, hoping that I sound at least a little bit seductive. My eyes meet again with Peeta's as he moves off the bed too and I wonder if I should say something else, something to the effect that I'm not tired so maybe we don't need to sleep. I decide against it. Better to let Peeta take the lead on this one.

We get into bed and since I'm not sure what else to do I simply fall into my usual routine and rest my head on Peeta's chest. His arms wrap around me and there is a moment of silence. Then he sighs heavily and I look up at him.

"It's going to be a long life of this…" he says. "Year after year after year…"

On instinct my hand reaches up and caresses his cheek in a comforting way. Our eyes meet and since he left his nightstand lamp on I can read the look in them fairly well. I realize that he's probably trying to find a way to get us from this to sex in a manner that will seem natural and that he might be thinking that we should have it start as comforting one another. So on that note I give him a soft kiss and then nuzzle my face against the crook of his neck.

"I would be lost without you" I say.

"I couldn't bear it without you either."

His hands caress me in comforting motions, seemingly innocent in nature, and I respond by trying to move even closer to him. For a few minutes we keep going like that, physically offering one another comfort without anything sexual added to the mix. Then he gives me a kiss and I kiss him back. A series of kisses follow and with them our touches turn less innocent, more needy. It's mostly for show but the desire for comfort is very much reality. It feels quite nice until Peeta shifts us so that I'm on my back with him on top of me and I get a glaring reminder of what we are really doing.

My eyes close hard and I bury my face against his neck, my hands gripping the fabric of his pyjama jacket with a touch of desperation. He shifts a little, pressing his forehead to mine and then kissing a trail from the corner of my eye down to my ear.

"Try and relax, if you can" he whispers. "I know how difficult it is… I wish I could help you get aroused. I don't want this to hurt for you."

Despite everything a smile crosses my lips and I pull back so we can look at each other, his comforting eyes trying to play his part while at the same time ask me for forgiveness for having to do this in the first place.

"It's alright" I whisper, gently caressing his face. "I trust you utterly." I feel so bad for him, having to do this even though he doesn't want to any more than I do and on top of that having to worry about hurting me. It occurs to me that he also needs to get aroused, that unlike me he can't grit his teeth and just get this over with because he has to be able to perform. Right now I can't feel his hardness between my legs. It won't be easier for him to rise to the occasion if he has to worry about me.

Making a decision I sneak my hand down his body and into his pyjama pants. He hisses when I touch his soft manhood and the sound relaxes me a little bit. As I wrap my hand around him and begin to give him attention I keep my eyes focused on his face. My determination grows with each stroke. I can do this. This isn't some monumental task that is being asked of me. It's copulating with my husband, something I do quite often these days and always enjoy. Something beautiful he and I share that we won't ever share with anybody else, despite whatever means of surveillance President Snow might inflict on us. I can do this. Hell, I made it through the Hunger Games. What is this in comparison to that?

"It will be fine" I whisper in his ear, catching his earlobe between my teeth. "I know you'll make it good for me. What we just said is the truth. We can endure most anything as long as we are together. Anything we do together can't be wrong."

He kisses me then, hard, full of pent-up frustration but also longing. I relax a little bit more. This is going to work. This is going to be alright.

Soon I manage to get my top off without moving the covers away and Peeta's hand immediately finds my breasts. Closing my eyes I let my head rest against the pillows and I focus everything on him, trying to ignore the knowledge that someone is probably watching. Normally I would want him to move his mouth to my breasts as well but not when that means possibly exposing them and he seems to understand this because he never makes any attempt to move his face below my neck. Through some awkward fumbling we get all our clothes off and continue to touch and kiss until he is hard and I am at least somewhat aroused myself. There is a moment's pause as Peeta rests his brow to mine.

"I'm going to move the comforter aside now" he whispers. "They won't be satisfied with under-the-covers stuff since they won't be able to tell if we're really…" He harks, then kisses both of cheeks and the tip of my nose. "I'll cover you with my body as best I can, I promise you."

I nod, my eyes still closed. I feel a whiff of cool air as he moves our cover aside and even though it feels like I'm exposing myself I let my knees fall further apart to give him better access. Then he is moving into me and my eyes open on their own accord, wanting to meet with his but finding that his are closed and his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he is trying to restrain himself. He probably wants to move fast, to get this finished as quickly as possible, but he doesn't want to risk hurting me when I'm not as ready as I would normally be. His intrusion doesn't hurt, though it feels a touch uncomfortable. I write it off as being because of the situation.

When he is all the way inside of me his eyes open and I manage to smile at him. He smiles back half-heartedly and then begins to move. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his back, my hands finding his shoulders to hold on to. It's eerily quiet, he's eerily quiet, the only sounds in the room our hushed breaths and our skin slapping together. These Capitol beds don't even have bedsprings that make noise when you have sex. It's a little unnatural to me.

Then after the first minute or two he begins to pepper kisses all over my face and neck, mumbling endearments and grunting every now and then. I close my eyes again and concentrate on the sound of his voice and the feel of him moving between my legs, lovely despite the circumstances. This is my man and he will take care of me and protect me, same as I will always do for him. The thought fills me with affection and helps me respond better to him. He begins to move faster and I hope he will climax soon. I won't be doing so myself, I've already communicated to him not to even try and make that happen, but I do feel pleasure. I'm almost entirely quiet, feeling embarrassed that anyone might hear the sounds I make during intercourse and frankly not enjoying myself quite to the level that I can't stop myself from moaning. But as Peeta begins to move even faster and lifts himself up slightly on his elbows I suddenly regret that I haven't been making a sound. I don't want to give them the pleasure of thinking he might not be a good lover. So I close my eyes, lean my head back and let my back lift off the bed a touch while I moan loudly and then cry out, as if I reached my peak. I moan Peeta's name, for emphasis. I will have them know that if there's anything missing in this bed right now it's not sexual prowess on behalf of my husband.

Peeta says my name too in a guttural growl half a minute later and I feel him finishing inside of me. Not a very powerful orgasm, in fact I'm surprised he managed to climax at all under the circumstances, but when he collapses on top of me he is as spent as if he had just had a powerful finish. With my legs still wrapped around him I run my arms up and down his back in a soothing manner, whispering encouragements in his ear until his breathing slows down.

We share another look and a long closed-mouth kiss. He grabs the comforter lying beside us and manages to pull it back to cover us without moving to expose any part of my body. Once we're safely away from view below the neckline we shift and curl into each other in our old familiar ways and we seek as much comfort from one another as we can. We don't talk. There's nothing to say. I want to know if he's doing okay and I suspect he wants to know the same about me but we can't very well ask each other that so we leave it be.

After he has reached over and turned off the light we lay close together, our noses brushing slightly.

"I love you" he says. It feels like his way of communicating that he is alright and so I want to try and communicate the same thing back.

"Me too" I tell him.

After that, saying those words to each other becomes our way of saying "I'm okay" when we can't speak those words out loud. Our own little code, sometimes tweaked and used in other ways but always with the core meaning of being a reassurance. Never something we have the luxury of using the way other husbands and wives do.

This chapter was challenging, for two reasons. One - I lost my "continuity file" where I keep track of what things happen when, among other things. The story file itself is over a hundred pages and I couldn't bring myself to read through the whole thing to get the details I needed for this chapter so if there are continuity errors in here that's mainly the reason why. Two - the sex scene at the end. I didn't want it to be erotic but I didn't want it to go too far in the other direction either. I'm not sure I found the right balance but I think it works somewhat.