004:

»«○»«○»«

THAT COMPLEX

It takes four days for Joshua to make the first move.

Daniel has to admit - it's a solid one too. Well thought out. Incredibly actually, given the fact that the former Legate generally doesn't usually have a good mind for tactics. When it comes to it, it's usually Daniel that does the planning. He's abstract enough to keep sight of the bigger picture, yet concrete and generally smart enough to pay attention to the little details. Joshua, mostly, handles the execution of said plans - what he lacks in tactical thought, he makes up for in practicality. That, and there's just some things Daniel can not and, most importantly, will not, do. It sounds calculative and more than just a little bit cruel to have Joshua do the things he finds uncomfortable, but at the end of they day, Daniel doesn't exactly have to ask.

If the situation allowed it, Joshua would have already wiped out the White Legs by now. That much is certain.

On the back of the letter he had Follows-Chalk deliver, there is a response. Four of the Dead Horses are injured - seriously enough for Joshua to be asking for Daniel's help. The Dead Horses' have reasonably good healers, yes, but none of them have ever performed emergency surgery before. Hence the request.

Daniel frowns as he examines the medical bag's contents again.

The unexpected sound of laughter is what finally draws his attention away from his supplies he's examining, or at least, trying to examine. He's not paying attention and this he realises abruptly as he blinks, frowning himself back into the present and resting his hands against his waist. He knows what he needs, in some sense. He just doesn't know what to expect - Joshua hadn't exactly gone into detail. In the corner of his eye, he watches as Waking Cloud emerges, shortly followed by that Courier - Jess. She doesn't seem to bother the midwife in the least and at this moment, they're chatting about something Daniel can't hear. The sound of rushing water drowns it out.

Waking Cloud's trusting nature is easily one of her best and worst of traits.

Daniel can't help himself; he lets out a grump of laughter. He never thought his worrying would ever have extended from White Legs and Yao Guai all the way to mysterious holier than thou Couriers. He knew he was pretty bad with it, yes, but he didn't think he could get this bad. He's been told, time and time again, mostly from his own sister, that he has a horrifically intrusive protective complex, but only now is it starting to aggravate him as well as it does others.

Yet, while he's wary enough for the both of them, he does his best to keep it well hidden. He's come quite adapt at sharing the same space as the Courier without cringing, speaking to her without faltering and managing to meet her gaze without breaking it. Even now, Daniel downright refuses to let her see how much she affects him and so far, it's hardly been difficult, there has been varying amounts of success. It's not fair to go showing discomfort when she clearly hasn't done anything wrong. The only wrongdoing she had done was making him jump, trivial as that was, and she had apologized regardless.

She's stronger now, the Courier, able to sit up and walk around on her own. The bruises have finally faded too. In fact, the only evidence of the condition he found her in is the hesitant half limp. If he wasn't so grateful, he'd be alarmed at how quickly she was recovering. Rest, a new set of clothes and regular meals have brought her a league away from what she was before, but all of this - all of it, is obvious from a doctor's perceptive.

No, it's the details he had shut out for the past fifteen years that are becoming readily apparent.

Three times, three damn times, he's had to admit to himself that, heck - she's a pretty handsome woman.

Daniel has never been one for such typical intentions, he really wasn't. He's always been too uninterested, too preoccupied, too generally subdued to care what the girls in New Canaan looked like. He's only really registered it with his sister and that, he saw it often; how men would glance at her at any given moment, how she managed to grasp their attention at the smallest of provocation. As far as he is concerned, any expression of masculine attraction pretty damn terrifying, from the standpoint of a big brother who had practically raised her, it's close to threatening. The term makes him recoil in disgust. Attraction. It doesn't sound right, even in his head. He banishes it away.

There is something else, however, something that is tugging at his awareness. Something he can't quite pinpoint. It's more annoying as it is concerning. Daniel's brow works into a knit as he tries to determine just what it is that is disturbing him.

"Daniel," his gaze snapped towards Waking Cloud, almost guiltily. "You're not going to stand there all day staring, are you?"

"What?" He frowns again, momentarily confused and looking back to the open bag again for a simple lack of anything better to look at.

The Courier walks forwards her gaze immediately fixing on the bag, then, on Daniel's own attire. She's summing something up pretty quickly. He's not in his usual clothes; he's in his old hunting gear. Well. Not all of it, really - he last went hunting when he was at fifteen, and his shoulders have filled out pretty ridiculously for his height since then; none of his old shirts and jackets actually fit him. They belong to Adam now. Daniel thinks he'd have to lose an arm to fit in them again, and that would just be cruel. He grimaces as he shifts his shoulders.

Jess folds her arms, looking something between annoyed and frustrated. She's figured it out.

In the past two days, she's been increasingly more eager to get out and do something, as apposed to just wandering around the camp, but Daniel had managed to be convincing enough thus far - last time she'd complained, he had told her, quite bluntly, that she was free to do as she pleased, but if she managed to get herself into another scrape, he wouldn't be running back out again. It wasn't true, of course... but she didn't have to know that. Now, however, she's getting more and more agitated and quite frankly, he's running out of creative threats.

Then she lifts her left hand up and the professional part of him immediately takes on what's wrong - it's quick, quick enough that for a few seconds, he doesn't even know what could possibly be the matter with what he's looking at, but he gets it sooner rather than later. Hand tremor. He ticks his head to the right ever so slightly, considering it.

"I take it this isn't normal?" she asks and under the annoyance, there is a hint of concern.

Daniel shakes his head, pivoting towards the left as he does so and kicking out a chair from under the table. He motions for her to sit. "Let's take a look."

She does, but she's frowning. "I don't know what you're gonna see - Doc Mitchell couldn't find much, and he was the one digging in around in there."

"I have my ways." Daniel mutters absently. He's not that interested in keeping the conversation going, but politeness somehow always wins out, so he obliges her. "I need you to look at my finger and follow it as it moves." standing right beside her, he crouches down and waves his hand in front of her face, expression scrunched up in concentration.

Jess sighs. "Waking Cloud has mentioned you a bit."

"All good things, I hope?" he asks coolly, stepping behind her back and then without warning, snapping his fingers right next to her left ear, then her right, causing her to flinch.

She doesn't react to his comment, but rather scowls, spinning around to face him. "What are you doing?" He just grumps in mock offence and tilts her head back around.

"It's good that you flinched."

The Courier tries to sense what he's got up his sleeve next, but he's right in her blind spot. "She seems like the kind of person who could say good things about Caesar if you let her."

Daniel laughs. "I'm glad to see confidence in her ability to read people." Then he steps backwards, moving over towards one of the bags he's long since left dejected and roots around. He finds what he's looking for after a few moments of frenzied searching and goes back into her blind spot without a word. Setting his jaw, he covers her eyes, using his ring and little finger to close her right nostril. It leaves her momentarily confused until he shoves something under her nose. "What do you smell?"

"Cardamom."

He switches the object and then, the other nostril. "This?"

"Coriander."

He lets go of her head and walks past towards the table. "You know your spices," he comments idly. "And you have to give Waking Cloud credit; it's very rare that the Sorrows find people to actively hate."

The Courier shakes her head. "To be honest, I don't think you should trust anything I say; you're checking me for brain damage." She frowns then, tilting her head. "Do you carry around two different spices in case you run into brain damaged people on a daily basis?"

Daniel continues to examine her as he speaks. "No, not exactly." He shrugs, "Okay, now smile for me... they go well in certain foods, comfort, if you will - now clench your teeth- it reminds me of home. Now, whistle."

"I can't." Daniel is left concerned on professional level and his expression apparently reflects that, because Jess notices and clarifies soon afterwards; "I mean, I can't like - I never have."

He relaxes at that, if ever so slightly. Well, that is indeed reassuring. "Right." He racks his brain for a few moments, glancing back at her. "Pucker your lips like you're pretending to be a fish."

Unexpectedly, her eyes widen. "A what?"

"A fish." Daniel repeats, then it hits him - very nearly literally, he was that close to sending a hand to his forehead. Of course. She's from the Mojave. She'll haven't come across one before, at least, not living anyway. "Ah, right. Or like you're going to kiss someone." She does so and he steps behind her again, firmly palpating the muscles in her neck. His level of confidence must prompt her, because she gives him a curious look as she asks.

"How long have you been a doctor?"

It's a question he's been asked a fair few times in the past, so he automatically corrects her before he can stop himself. "I'm not a doctor, at least, not anymore," but he decides to answer her question all the same. It takes a little bit of effort on his part, pushing through the math. "I started studying when I was fifteen, then took up training when I was eighteen - two years of it was spent as missionary... and then went back to work full time for another six years afterwards. So about, let's see- twelve years in all, if you count the two years mentoring and the ones spent in New Canaan."

When he walks around again, she holds his gaze for a little longer than he is used to. "So you aren't now?" He shakes his head, deliberately turning himself around so he doesn't have to give her the full answer.

"It lost its appeal." He dismisses the question with a faint frown, despite the fact that she wouldn't have been able to see it. She's about to say something when he turns back around again, but he interrupts her. He doesn't mean to be rude, he's just... uncomfortable again, and slightly pained. He doesn't want to think of the reason why. "Hold up your arms," Daniel looks at her trembling hand seriously for a moment and compares it to the other one. "How long have these tremors been going on?"

"Since I woke up."

Daniel nods, then, giving her a sympathetic look. "It's the medicine. It should wear off soon and I think you're passing the point of chronic pain, so taking them again may not be necessary. As for- well..." he waves at her head for emphasis. "Nothing serious going on there."

She seems glad, surprised, but happy none the less. Suppose she never thought to even survive, let alone reach the point of no medication. Daniel glances away darkly, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Where are you off to anyway?" she asks and he takes the distraction gratefully.

Daniel sighs, he trusts Joshua - but, God willing, if this goes wrong someone's losing hands. It's a bad idea, but then, it's better then the as-of-currently-nonexistent plan he has. "A few of the Dead Horses are in need of assistance, I'll be heading up there in an hour." he considers her again then. "There's a waterproof in the duffel over there." Daniel jerks his head in the general direction of which he is referring to, considering his holster spread out on the table before him. Now it's her turn to be confused and instead of elaborating properly, he concentrates on fixing the fiddly object, adjusting it so it actually fits over his body-armour, shirt and jacket. "I don't know what it's like in the Mojave, but it tends to rain in Zion and getting pneumonia is the last thing you need."

She makes to say something, then shuts her mouth suddenly. A few seconds pass. "What happened to sticking 'safe and sound'?"

Daniel shrugs. "Another pair of eyes on the trail wouldn't hurt - well, it might hurt, but not if we're careful."

He pretends not to notice the smirk on her face.

»«○»IV«○»«

Moses attempted to substitute his brother. Adam tried to hide in the Garden of Eden. Jonah - likely one of the more successful, jumped a boat end ended up getting swallowed by a whale.

If there's anything Daniel has been taught about man, it's that they have a tendency to run from God. It is, as he sees it, something akin to tradition. So perhaps it was only tradition that when, as soon as he could pretty much walk, Daniel started running from Bishop Mordecai. Of course, the Bishop wasn't God, neither was he the Living Prophet, but to a lot of New Canaan, the ones who had come up from New Jerusalem and had supported the Bishop for years, Mordecai was the next closest thing. The holy man, the big boss, the Bishop. Daniel's parents had been part of his congregation from the beginning and when Daniel was an infant, he too had his place.

Yet, once Daniel came to properly realise just who Mordecai was, he ran. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. If he saw him coming down the street, he ran. If he had to pass his house, he ran. Even as a teenager, if Daniel so much spotted him approaching, he turned around and went back the way he came. It wasn't exactly possible the majority of times - he was his godfather, after all, but if he could get away with it, he took the opportunity with both hands.

Mordecai was a big man - six foot one and Daniel had to admit, even as a fully grown adult - even though he was more than capable of putting him down, he felt incredibly inferior in his presence. When he looked down through his glasses, Daniel was pretty certain the Bishop could see all of his sins and shortcomings.

And really, Daniel can't deal with that.

Man likes to run from God.

And Daniel did run, he ran right up until he stopped in his tracks and started walking back in the opposite direction. Right up until he realised that no matter what, he'd never go fast enough - never far enough.

{| IV |}

Most of the time, her experiences with Daniel was limited seemly to observation. Like a lot of the Sorrows, she watched as he delivered brief but frequent sermons for those tribals he had converted, wander around the camp on halfhearted patrol and tend to the hurts and wounds the Sorrows had managed to pick up. Jess wasn't going to lie, on top of it being some form of recreation while she was left in an idle state of discomfort, the missionary also acted as something to study, from afar at least. Over the course of a few days, she came to know him quite intimately. It was was easy, if nothing else. While it had simply been noticed before, the sudden bracing of his shoulders when he was approached became something committed to memory, the ease in which he melted into work, quietly and content, became familiar.

Jess does this for two reasons, the first is simple - the more information someone has, the stronger their position. Daniel may have extended trust and mutual appreciation, but he still presents a very capable threat if need be. It doesn't hurt to know a potential danger. She knows this from bitter experience. As for the second, well, she's intrigued, that much is simple.

And, concerned. If only slightly.

She had awoken when she had first heard it, the muttering. It was distant at first; almost inaudible, but when came the grimacing and the shifting and Jess had known. She hadn't tried to do anything. It felt as if she had stumbled upon something incredibly personal and she, quite frankly, hadn't known what to do. Nightmares are often trivial things - common, but waking up four times in one night surely isn't what one would consider 'normal'. Daniel was fretting about New Canaan in his sleep and that had been an immense deal in itself.

Then he had woken up too, slamming upright and barking something incomprehensible. He'd stopped mid-word, surprised, before either realising where he was or what he was doing previously, because he'd collapsed soon afterwards. Head in his hands and grumbling quietly to himself. Rather than make a scene, she'd closed her eyes. In good time too; he'd spun around to see if he'd been caught in the act.

Now, stood on an incline of land with an unfamiliar handgun in her grip looking across the large expanse of Zion, she's afraid to mention it. Or even acknowledge it. What's worse, is that none of her earlier minutia gives her any advantage in this particular setting. In the Mojave, she's become adept at deciphering people's next moves, or strongly influencing them, but here, with Daniel, he's still contemplative; considering the weight of his promise to his aversion. It was one of the first things she had learned, to keep your home advantage - but that's just it, this isn't her home and while this canyon may not be his either in definition, he's clearly acclimatised to it.

Daniel has traded his usual hat for that of a shorter newsboy cap and having pulled against his brow so the sun isn't resting on his upper face, he takes point. It was late in the morning, but the light of the sun just barely peaked over the canyon walls. The thick shade of darkness was now being slowly depleted by it's rising; and somewhere, far above, a flock of birds chirped as they flew past. Birds. Actual birds. Jess smirks in idle amusement.

Minutes passed and the surroundings began to change ever so slightly. Daniel hadn't wanted to walk through the river - the water was cold and deeper in the majority of places and that's not something he wants to have to deal with. Jess couldn't help but agree. So instead, they walk across the ledges, pretty high up, but not high enough to reach the very edge of the walls. She wouldn't have been able to climb out, especially not in this condition.

Daniel's not exactly a chatty sort of person, but apparently he doesn't like pressing silence anymore than Jess does. Within a few minutes, she decides on her usual coping method, the one she often had to resort on using with people like, say, Boone for instance; ask them a question that requires an in-depth answer.

"So..." she walks a little faster to meet his pace and he snaps his head around to look at her, eyebrow half cocked in question. "You said you weren't a doctor anymore, then what is it you do here?"

Daniel looks away, kicking a stone and sending it flying off the edge as he thinks. "I used to help them - the Sorrows, that is, with various medical problems. I was introduced to them during my period as a compulsory missionary, after that, I just..." he shrugs. "Fixed general issues. In the end, my bishop ended up sending me here on permanent placement. They were familiar with me at that point; they'd be more comfortable listening to me than some stranger." Towards their far left, something snaps in the middle distance and they both turn their heads, but since it was several dozen feet below them and out of their range, they just continued on. "We New Canaanites believe that there is a path to salvation for everyone and it's important that we set people on that path if they are willing - hence, me."

"You said you "used to" help the Sorrows with problems." Jess inwardly smirks, she knows what he's doing. He shifts - he knows he's been caught out. "What do you do now?"

"I'm trying to make amends for allowing our problem to become their problem." He grits out suddenly, before checking himself and letting out a low grunt. "The New Canaanites, I mean. The White Legs; the tribe that sacked your caravan, they've always fought with us. Now though, Caesar has motivated them stamp out the New Canaanites entirely and that," he sighs. Hard. "That means the tribes we work with too."

Jess frowns at him for a few seconds, considering. "That's... an awful lot of responsibility to take on."

Daniel shrugs, using the motion to shift the paramedic's bag further over his shoulder. "It's happened before, with other tribes. We go in - always with good intentions, but things end up going wrong." He looks at her then, dead in the eye. "When that happens, you can't just... leave them. Abandon them to die at the hands of New Canaan's enemies."

That makes a whole lot of sense, Jess supposes, so she shrugs. "Tell me about Joshua."

"I'm sure you know an awful amount."

"Not like you do, though." she scans his face for a moment and he smirks. "How long have you known him?"

"What's with this third degree?" he counters, but shakes his head soon afterwards. He's still grinning, so she doesn't back down, just stares back at him levelly. "Just over four years now." Much to her displeasure, he recognises the faint look that crosses her features and slows ever so slightly. "You don't have to worry, you know - he's... nothing like he was before."

"I'll be face to face with the formidable Malpais Legate," Jess gives him a look. "Can you blame me?"

Daniel tips his head away from her slightly. "Well, no." then something crosses his mind and he looks back at her. "Just don't call him that to his face, it makes him..." he struggles to find the right word. "Difficult."

"Difficult?" she parrots, slipping him a rare genuine grin and he snorts.

"Don't get me wrong, he's never been anything less than amiable when he can help it. It's just that his equivalent of a sulk is as tedious as it is uncomfortable."

»«○»IV«○»«

"Daniel - boy, shut the window."

Suppressing a sigh of intense annoyance, twenty-two year-old Daniel Ryker leans against the desk before him and props his chin up with an open palm. Really? He pointedly scowls across the room towards where Mordecai is sat; the old bishop is prowling over several volumes of Pre-War origin. Ignoring him.

His tone is far more forceful than he was originally expecting. "Mordecai, I've just shut the window."

He knows that Mordecai can't exactly cross the room to shut it again at his own whim, but that's not what annoys Daniel, it's the whole concept of him struggling across the room in his wheelchair to open it again - a few minutes after Daniel has just shut it. At. His. Own. Request... that he finds immensely grating. The bishop says nothing, just glances at Daniel from over his glasses. He's not going to get anywhere with this.

Fine.

Bolting out of his chair with a huff, the younger man shuts the window with an exaggerated amount of force, locking it for good measure, even though he knows it won't do squat. Mordecai pays little attention his apparent frustration; Daniel wished he would. It would give him something to vent it out on.

Usually, he'd be horrified with himself but he's been doing nothing for the better part of an hour and he can't stand it. He feels like he's going insane.

So he tries small talk - he's been out of New Canaan for close to two years now and while he's been brought up on a lot, there's still a lot he's missed. The weather. The neighbourhood. What had Mordecai used to fill the void of stressing his Godson out while he's been away. These are a few examples of what he tries, arms folded firmly over his chest as he wanders around the room. The shelves are crammed with books and files, several decades of collecting. The desk that Daniel was previously sitting at was covered in letters and notes. There were open boxes everywhere, things the bishop had been reviewing. Or, reorganising perhaps, but Daniel suspects that such is not the case. He's the one who tidies things up. He can't stand clutter.

Clutter annoys Daniel more than Mordecai does.

Mordecai looks forlornly at the open boxes for a few moments.

"It feels, boy, that I have forgotten much of my life." he says and Daniel tilts his head to look at him.

Then he snorts. "It takes another life to go through this." Daniel grumbles bitterly.

"Ah!" the bishop looks up and gives him a rare smile - genuine, not that twisted little thing Daniel's used to seeing. "Clever, clever!"

Daniel's upper lip twitches in a vague sort of smirk, but he turns around on his heels and grimaces to himself. It felt strange, making Mordecai laugh. It was sort of special and disrespectful at the same time. He doesn't want to think about it, but in the two years that he's been gone, Mordecai was no longer the man who always looked so large from his seat in the crowd. Here, now, he seemed much smaller. More frail. He'd lost a few inches to old age. His broad cheeks sagged now, and while his smile was still confident, and his eyes still narrowed into a wise, thoughtful gaze, he moved with the practiced steps of a person who worried about falling down, mortality now arm in arm with him.

He both wanted and dreaded to ask. How long?

{| IV |}

"You want to stop? Now?" Daniel asks. They're a good three quarters of the way there and the sun is beating down on them fiercely.

Jess sighs. Part of the decision to take a break sprouted from exhaustion. She's still quite weak, weaker than she had felt the day before and while she'd love to do nothing more than just power on, the Courier knows that such is unwise. Wouldn't want to overdo it. Not at all. The other part of this decision is distinctly more selfish, but all things considered, equally more practical.

"Look," heaving a heavy sigh Jess flings the pack she was carrying - her things, or rather, the things that the Sorrows had provided for her, onto the ground to rifle through it more effectively. She doesn't understand it, but all the stuff you always need or want seems to fall towards the bottom. "I'm overheated, I'm sweaty, and I smell like a dude." Daniel makes a noise of protest and she tilts her head up, smiling sweetly. "No offence." He looks like he's about to say something else, but she holds a hand up, slicing him then and there. It's an interesting concept and, even more interestingly, he doesn't seem that bothered. Oh, he's annoyed, but less than she expected. "I'm going to take a minute, right? A minute to get cleaned up, as this is the third-likely looking place to do so we've walked past. I'm not presenting myself to Joshua bloody Graham looking like this." Daniel raises an eyebrow at her, as if he's about to say that it doesn't matter and Jess will admit, he's right, but regardless. This is a meeting that may very well dictate her future - the future of everything here, the less like a scruffy backwards Wastelander she looks, the better. That and she has standards, thank you very much. "So, if you don't like it, just... sit on that rock there with your back to me. I don't want you wandering off and leaving me stranded... ahaha!" cackling, she pulls out her prize.

Soap.

"We really need to make haste." Daniel settled on the rock, probably having already come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to argue - he could simply trudge along by himself, but they both know he won't.

Jess turns around to look over her shoulder at his turned back and smirks.

"Tell me you like travelling with a smelly, sweaty girl. Missionaries aren't supposed to lie, Daniel." came her calm rejoinder.

Silence. Silence, followed the snappy comment - but then, a resigned sigh. He shakes his head; she can see it from here.

Snickering, Jess knelt at the edge of the river and peeled her shirt off. She was so sick and tired of feeling half-human she could kill something. So, as they haven't come across anything wanting even remotely hostile, it's as good a time as any. "I won't be long, I promise." She hopes this addition will lighten his mood somewhat. She knows why he's going, what's going on and it sounds dead frivolous, but honestly, she's the one walking around in the same clothes she's worn for three days, smelling like a supermutent.

She scrubbed quickly, washing her clothes as well - you don't just strip down into nothing in the wilderness, after all - and dressed in a more comfortable attire, wrapping the damp clothes in her packed waterproof sheet, to keep everything else dry. Not the best thing for the clothing, but she figures that she'll never get the blood out of it - so why fuss?

Why fuss indeed? She shook them out of the waterproof and hid them under a rock. They're beyond salvage by now anyway - she needs to be practical about this. While she no longer had the benefit of wearing her own clothes, the things Daniel had so graciously - and, reluctantly, she thinks - donated wasn't all that bad. The shirt is too big though, perhaps not in length, but it's too wide and flaps around her frame. Same goes for the pants. It should be a crime for someone to be so short yet built up at the same time - nothing ever fits. Regardless, she decided that she could deal with it. She felt a hell of a lot cleaner and hell of a lot more human. "Ok, you ready to go?" she asked, turning to look behind her again. Daniel still sat with his back resolutely to her. "I'm decent."

He turned, nodding his head with a pretty offended look on his face, as if he was saying 'of course I'm ready.'

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be alright." she thumped his arm, noticing that even though she did it very gently, he still flinched as if he'd been struck properly. Well, he's not one of her usual companions, after all - she supposes the gesture is pretty out-going and unexpected. "Oh, damn - sorry."

Daniel shook his head and prompted her on a topic of his own, which he attempted to answer with a shrug, accompanied by varying levels of detail. He seems to be used to gregarious people - if that brother of his is any indication. It makes her wonder why he's so damn twitchy, especially since he seems pretty gregarious himself. Makes her wonder why he's even a missionary at all - he doesn't seem suited somehow, good nature and faith aside.

Perhaps he's a doer - maybe that's why they're getting on so well.

»«○»IV«○»«

Eugh, how I detest filler chapters. This was mostly written to give me some practice, as well as developing a bit of ground in regards to Daniel and Jessica before all the heavy hitting stuff comes in, I.E, Joshua. Regardless, thank you all for the reviews ^^ Especially to those who are guests and therefore, who I can't reply to in return.