I love you.

He had to say it. Why did he have to say it? Emily pulls away, stumbling back a few steps clumsily, trying to put some distance between her and Alex in a sudden panic.

"Emily?" He reaches for her, brows furrowed, chocolate eyes filling with hurt and worry. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"You love me. You – you love me?"

He doesn't hesitate, meeting her eyes again. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"No."

"What do ye mean, 'no'?" Now he's indignant, and she wishes she could make him understand why she can't, she just can't. "If – if ye don't feel the same, that's all well and good, but…"

"No! You don't understand, every time… every time…" It's just the last person to say those words to her was her little brother, and to hear them coming from Alex with such a different meaning…

The same way her papa had meant 'love' when he talked of her mother. The same way Jade had meant it when she talked of the man whose child she'd born, but who wouldn't marry her. The same way the Flying Dutchman's corrupted captain had once meant it when she talked of the man who was supposed to wait for her. It never ends well. That's why Emily has never allowed herself to put a name to the feelings swelling in her own heart for Alex. It never ends well.

"Emily." Alex murmurs again, a note of desperation in his own voice. "Talk to me, love. Please."

Her mind races as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "One rule." She finally says shakily. "One rule, Alex." She opens her eyes back up and he is staring at her, searching, his face an unrestrained wash of emotions.

"Name it." He tells her.

"Don't use that word. Alex, you and I – we can be whatever you like, as long as you don't use that word." That word. She says it likes it's a curse she's talking about.

"Why? I don't understand, what are ye afraid of?" He's replaced all else with vehemence now, stalking closer to her. "After all those conversations we've 'ad, about not bein our parents, what's wrong? Don't ye trust me?"

"No." The word tumbles past her lips before she can think about how it will sound. "I mean," she goes on hastily, "it's not you, it's – I don't think I trust anyone that much, Alex." That doesn't help, and she knows it.

"And yet here I stand, havin enough trust in ye to tell ye – bugger it." He cuts himself off, turning away from her and kicking a barrel. "I shouldn't've said it."

"I'm sorry." Emily murmurs.

"Sorry." He chokes out a humorless laugh. "I'm beginnin to think me dad has things figured in this area better 'n I thought. I tell a girl I love 'er for the first time and all I get is a scoldin and an 'I'm sorry'." Emily doesn't know what to say anymore and is just preparing to make her escape when he turns back to her. "I'll ask one more time. Will ye run with me? S'not so bad an idea, if ye just think..."

"I have. Alex, really, I have. But…"

"But what?"

"But where would we go? Where could we possibly go that we wouldn't stand out somehow?" She chokes a bit on the word 'we', because she means herself more than him. She stands out. Of course, she stands out here too, in this world, but at least here that's not so bad a thing. At least in this world standing out can get her places if she's tough and quick and clever.

"We could manage. We could – we could go to the New World! No one would bother us in the colonies. We could try for an honest life and…"

"Stow it!" She cuts him off. "Alex, just stop it! I don't want to. Alright? I'll make it that simple. I don't want to!" All she does want right now is for him to kiss her again, to kiss her and forget about the L-word and to just go back to being her Alex again. "Everything I do want is right here for me now and I'm not going to just give it up because you suddenly decided to develop a proper moral compass!" That was harsh, too harsh, and she knows it the minute the words swim their way out into the open. She wishes more than anything that she could take them back. He stares at her, mouth open but no sound coming out. At a loss for further words herself, silence reigns until she steps forward to retrieve her sword. Then she turns silently and makes her way off the ship, slow and deceptively calm.

And then she runs.

He stands on the deck of the Queen for some time afterward, trying to process her words. 'A proper moral compass'. It echoes in his head. A proper moral compass. He just doesn't understand. What is it she wants from him? She'd been jealous enough of Adrienne to try and kill the other girl, but then she panics when he tries to tell her how he really feels. So what is he meant to do? Would she be happier somehow if he was some kind of complete scoundrel? A part of him thinks he'd be willing to be one, to really become the part they'd both been playing, or at least to pretend it. If only it would make her happy.

He'd have given his own leg in exchange for hers if he could've, just so she wouldn't have to work through what she is now, wouldn't have to suffer. Doesn't she understand? Maybe she really doesn't. She seems, in fact, oddly, unable to understand just how much he loves her. Like she honestly can't see why he would. And he can't seem to make her see.

There are clouds rolling in, thick and grey, and the air thickens with the promise of a storm. The darkening atmosphere matches Alex's mood as he finally makes his way back off the ship. He knows what he's going to do now. The arrangement, if his grandfather is agreeable to it, will hardly be permanent. But he's not sure he'll be doing himself or Emily any good by sailing with her, not now at least. They'll just drive each other mad, and Emily at least, he knows, has more important things to worry about. So he'll just…stay put. Maybe, if fate feels like being the tiniest bit kinder to him than it has been, something better will come along.

He rather doubts it, really, but without hope, he has nothing, so he pushes this thought from his mind as he heads off to see his grandfather.

She spends maybe an hour or so in her cabin, sobbing quietly, unable to help it. She stops when the weather outside decides to match her mood, rain pouring down in buckets as thunder crashes and rolls. She's just thinking to go find Alex – to apologize again, to tell him that maybe he's right, to say or do whatever she must if only he will forgive her – when someone knocks on her door.

She hopes, faintly, that it'll be Alex. "Come in." But she's not surprised when it isn't.

"Oh, dear." Jo says as she peaks her head in and catches sight of Emily. "This'll be more difficult than I thought. May I…?" Emily only nods. Jo slips into the room to sit next to Emily on her bunk. "I take it you and Alex had a row?" Another silent nod. Jo heaves a sigh. "So he makes me the bearer of bad news. I ought to give him a slap." She takes the mug she's holding – full of something steaming that smells faintly of honey – and hands it to Emily. "I think you'll be needing that."

"Bad news?" Emily asks quietly, excepting the mug absently.

Jo hesitates, looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "Just – do us a favor and don't shoot the messenger, alright?"

"Jo. What is it?"

"Alex… he's decided to stay here."

Emily's hand tightens around the handle of the mug, and for the first time she absolutely understands where that saying came from, because she is sorely tempted to reach for her pistol and aim for whoevers closest. She doesn't, of course. It's not Jo's fault. She can't blame Alex either. If anything, she supposes, the fault is hers. She loosens her grip again and takes a slow breath, in, and then back out.

"You're not surprised." Jo somehow deciphers.

"After the conversation I just had with him? Decidedly not." Emily brings the mug to her lips and takes a tentative sip. It is a sort of hot grog that she's recently come to discover she doesn't mind, watered ale with honey. The hot liquid slides easily down her throat, scratchy from her crying, and the sharp, bitter taste of the alcohol is made bearable by the honey it's mixed with. She takes another, heartier sip.

Jo is eyeing her. "Might I ask what I'm missing? You two have been thick as thieves ever since we got here, surely..."

"I don't think I could change his mind. That's what it's all about, you see, he's got it in his head now. He thinks he knows what's best." Emily takes another sip from the mug. "Why does it never occur to anyone that what's best isn't always…" She shakes her head.

"Got what in his head? You mean…he never intended to sail off again?"

"Oh, sure he did. Just not on the Sea's Queen. He wants to be off to the New World. Like somehow that will solve anything."

"Oh." Realization dawns on the older woman's face. "I see. He still wants you to run off with him."

"To put it simply, yes. And I said no. So – there it is." She stares down at the mug in her hands. "I can't blame him for being angry, but he could at least have come and told me that himself."

"You could always go find him." Jo suggests half-heartedly.

Emily thinks about it…but no. "If he wants to stay, far be it from me to try and stop him. I am not his…" She's not even sure what she'd want to be to him anymore. His wife? That's the only way the kind of closeness she wants with him would be appropriate, but she'd be terrible at that, being married. She thinks, at this point, she could be perfectly alright with inappropriate, the pirate in her almost reveling in the idea, but Alex doesn't seem to share her view anymore, if he ever really did. And that's not even mentioning the fact that marriage would require professions of love that they have just established she's nowhere near ready for. And, besides all that, even if she could convince him to stay, he'd likely only end up all the more unhappy for it, and she doesn't want to do that to him.

"Right then." Jo stands. "I'll just…"

"Could you do me a favor and track down the crew – my crew. My goddess, that's going to take some getting used to. Let them know we sail tomorrow, long as this weather is good and blown over."

"Aye, Captain." She replies. "I'll let Alex know too. If he's upset, maybe he'll come to his senses."

Emily rather doubts it, but refrains from saying that out loud.

Even after Jo comes to tell him Emily plans to set sail tomorrow, Alex holds out hope that she'll come to talk to him. He supposes that he should maybe go talk to her – if only to get some kind of goodbye out – but he isn't sure of what sort of mood she's in. Jo had said she was upset, but with Emily that could mean anything, including anger. He doesn't want to fight with her again.

He doesn't sleep much, spends most of the night praying to whatever god may be listening that the weather will remain bleak enough to keep Captain Turner and her crew from heading out. It doesn't happen, of course. By the time morning comes the sun is shining bright, and he strolls outside just in time to watch the hustle and bustle of fresh supplies being loaded onto the ship last minute. He can see Emily on deck, her petite, one legged silhouette distinctive, and decides he'll skip the goodbyes. He has a feeling he'll see her again.

The only real problem will be keeping her off his mind in the meantime.

She thinks she's sees Alex the next morning, standing on the dock a ways away from the hustle and bustle of fresh supplies being loaded last minute. She'd held out hope the night before that he'd come talk to her, only letting it go when a restless sleep took her well into the night. She thinks that maybe she should've gone to talk to him, but she'd had no idea of his mood, and another fight with him had been the last thing she'd desired. She's tempted even now to go to him, but decides in the end to skip the goodbyes. She's been told that Sparrows have a tendency to keep popping up, like bad pennies; she has a feeling she'll see him again.

For now she has a ship of her own, and a crew whose loyalty she needs to get busy earning. She only hopes that'll be enough to keep him off her mind in the meantime.

Emily can count on one hand the number of times she's ever been this nervous. She knows Jo was right in pointing out that a bit of 'honest pirating' is just what's needed right now. She needs a bit of adventure to keep her occupied now that they've made it out to open water and it's sunk in that Alex really is gone, at least for now. And the crew, her crew, are still trying to work out whether a young girl like her will do as captain. And the ship in the distance isn't too big, should be an easy target, perfect for practice, to see if she can pull this off from her new position. But she just can't help it. She hasn't had to work through a real fight with her leg yet and she's worried that no one will take her seriously anyway. But then, Ana was taken quite seriously, wasn't she? And Emily's already quite used to taking her queues from the older woman. Why stop now?

She's already decided to employ a tactic that Ana had never bothered with, as the Sea's Queen was on the smaller side and therefore faster than most other vessels – Jo had mentioned being able to sew, and Emily had thought to try something new.

With the Queen now flying a British flag, Emily puts on her old coat and hat, slipping into the stance she's learned to take when she's hoping to pass for a man – shoulders back to make them look broader, legs apart, hands clasped behind her back as she stands next to the helm. She thinks, perhaps, her wooden peg leg will be enough to finish the illusion off from a distance; it's not exactly an injury a woman would be expected to have.

It works twice as well as she'd dared to hope. Though the men on the other ship look a little wary, they allow the Sea's Queen to get much closer than would normally have been possible, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Some part of Emily thinks a decent person would feel bad for tricking them, but she ignores that part. It's not like she intends to sink them; in fact, Ana had taught her that if one was clever, few people would even be badly hurt.

Emily doesn't have as much experience as Ana, but she's clever enough on her own, it seems. She signals a greeting to the other captain, trying to make her intentions seem harmless though vague, watching his men carefully. Only when they appear to relax some does she order the Queen's fake flag taken down and warning shots fired.

Perhaps she's lucky. Perhaps the merchant's captain is as new to this as she is. Perhaps her little ship just doesn't look like much, so he's not expecting a threat. There could be any number of reasons why this works as well as it does. Emily doesn't question it as the Queen continues to pepper the other ship with cannon fire, her men already swinging over to the other ship. The air rings with the familiar sound of swords clashing, and Emily feels the extra nervousness drain away as she slips into the routine.

A few bold sailors from the merchant ship swing over to the Queen, and Emily greets them personally. Swipe, block, parry, stab when necessary. One of them ends up dead at her feet, but the rest will live to fight another day. The fighting on the other ship is beginning to wind down as the man who appears to be their captain surrenders. Emily sheaths her sword, preparing to swing over to the other ship and see what she has to work with…

And curses herself for it in the next moment. The sailor she thought was quite dead is apparently not quite dead – in fact, he's plenty alive enough to be standing behind her now, one arm restraining her, the other holding a knife to her throat.

"Filthy pirate wench." He growls in her ear. "Who do you think you are?"

Perhaps her anxious energy from earlier was warranted after all, then. The knife is pressed close enough to her throat that moving at all is not the brightest idea, but she can't just stand here, can she? Her hand – the one he hasn't managed to restrain very well – inches blindly towards the pistol at her belt. If she could just get her hands on…

"Ah-ah-aah." The sailor reaches for the pistol himself, and Emily curses him, but he never gets to it. The distinct sound of another pistol being cocked rings out from somewhere close by seconds before a bullet whizzes right past her ear – and, as such, probably very close to his head as well. Emily has no idea who fired the shot, but she's thankful to them whoever they are, as they've provided her with a much needed distraction. His grip on the knife at her neck loosens, she can feel it as the blade falls away from her neck a bit. Bringing up her hand, she grabs his and wrenches the knife free before he can regain his bearings – by the time he does, their positions are reversed, and she's knocking his legs out from under him using her fake one, the knife now held at his throat.

"Who am I?" She murmurs into his ear. "I'm the devil's daughter." She's not sure where this comes from, especially since her mother hasn't actually been on her mind as of late and the word 'devil' isn't even technically a correct title to put to the woman, although it has been used on her. It sounds frightening enough, though, that Emily decides to just go with it. "And you're lucky you're not already dead. Try anything like that again and you will be shot."

He manages a nod. Emily hands him off to one of her men, who drags him back to his ship as she wipes the blood from the small cut she can feel on her neck. Looking around in an effort to find out who fired a pistol at her – or the man who'd been about to kill her, depending on who the pistol belonged to – she spots none other than Jo Gibbs, standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding what Emily assumes is the weapon in question.

"Jo," she asks, brows furrowing in what is doubtless another perfect imitation of her father's favorite confused expression, "did you mean to miss, or were you aiming for…"

A smile tugs at the corners of the older woman's lips. "Of course I meant to miss, Captain. I'm a pirate's daughter. It'd be a right shame if I didn't at least know how to shoot, don't you think?"

"Quite." Emily decides not to ask, instead making her way over to the other ship as she wonders just how many other surprises her cook/unofficial-first-mate/quickly-becoming-best-mate has in store.

Landing on the merchant vessel, Emily allows the thump, step, thump, step of her own odd gait to be the only noise as the merchant's crew goes silent, all eyes on her. Surveying her prisoners, she lets them squirm a moment just for the fun of being able to, but never actually addresses them. They are all good and tied up now, her crew being well used to this routine after performing it countless times under Anamaria's command, and are no longer her concern.

"Alright, gents." She turns to her own men. "You know what to do…"

"By God, you're a woman!" Someone, the captain if appearances are anything to go by considering his clothing is somewhat more presentable than that of the rest, calls out incredulously, cutting her off.

"No wonder she's going easy on us." Another sailors speaks up, and Emily recognizes this voice. It's the sailor who was threatening to slit her throat moments earlier. "Women don't have the stomach for this sort of thing."

Emily strolls over to stand before him. "Beg pardon?" She asks, deceptively calm.

"You heard me." He glares up at her. "I'm surprised that boat of yours could even make it out of port with you at the helm, girl."

Now, she's angry. Taking out her pistol, she aims at his head, cocking it without hesitation. "Didn't I say, anything more from you…" She can feel her crew watching her. Ana hadn't been above a display like this every now and then. She hadn't liked it, but respect had to be earned somehow.

"Go on, then." The sailor says. "Shoot."

Deliberating a brief moment longer, Emily hardens herself. "As you wish." She re-aims the pistol and fires without any more hesitation – the bullet tearing through his arm, painful, but hardly life threatening if it's treated quick enough. He cries out in pain, but doesn't say another word. "Anyone else have anything to say, then?" No one else says anything either. Emily nods before turning to address her men again. "Take whatever we can work with," she pause, then adds, "dump the rest," out of spite.

They all mutter an 'aye cap'n' and begin scouring the ship. The job is done quick and efficient; when they're finished, Emily takes the sailors knife and throws it at the deck so it lodges between the captains kneeling legs before loosening the rope binding him, enough that he will just be able to work with his hands.

"You scum won't be able to get away with this much longer." He growls at her angrily. "The Admiral's got his fleet ready, and he'll succeed where the late Lord Beckett failed. I'll be happy to see you hang!" He's shouting after her, but she's already walking away, not even flinching at the two familiar names… even as her head is already beginning to spin. The Admiral? The Admiral? It couldn't be, not after nearly ten years. Could it?

Emily sends a glance downward as she crosses back over to the Queen, addressing the sea beneath her. Honestly. With all due respect my goddess, don't I have enough to worry about?

Her goddess, unsurprisingly, doesn't reply.

…

She makes herself dizzy going over his words in her cabin later that night. The Admiral. She hasn't heard the word used like that in so long, she almost wonders if she heard him wrong. She must have, surely…and yet, she can't really be too sure at all. If it is true, how did a merchant captain know anything about The Admiral? Or Lord Beckett? Or the Company at all, really? She doesn't know, and it keeps her up well into the night, begging her goddess to explain. She can feel Calypso's presence, attempting to be a comfort, but her silence frays Emily's nerves.

She doesn't like not knowing. The feel of her goddesses presence turns cautious, warning, reminding her of Ana's haunted expression when she'd told Emily of why she'd wanted to get to the Fountain, and Emily decides to let it go… for now, at least.

The lovely, quaint little port of Whitebird bay is teaming with all its usual activity the day the Sea's Queen finally pulls into port, and Emily finds herself taking a considerable amount of comfort in the fact that some things never change.

For this task she finds herself seriously considering the dress still stashed away, now in the cabinet standing in her cabin. She actually knows the people here, and is somewhat worried about giving those who are older and getting rather frail an unneeded fright. On top of that, since Jade had been friends with quite a few women in the village to spite her reputation as a trollop, it was likely that one of them had been kind enough to look after Joshy – and probably wouldn't be too willing to give him straight up to Emily. Emily looking like the pirate that she is – wearing knickers and with her fake leg clearly in view – will certainly not help. She really doesn't want to put the dress on, remembering all too well how uncomfortable a full corset is, but in the end there's nothing for it.

This amuses Jo to no end – especially when the corset itself isn't quite as easily cinched as Emily remembers. It's just another reminder that Emily has only just reached the age where she can be considered a woman. She's done some growing over the past year and a half, and is finally beginning to gain a more womanly figure, although the curves are still slight enough that Jade would doubtless…

Emily has to remind herself that Jade is, well, worse than simply dead, and no longer around to say anything. Thinking ill of her is disrespectful and will do Emily even less good now than it ever did before, anyway.

"Must you look so pleased?" Emily huffs at Jo as she hikes up her skirts in annoyance so as not to trip when ascending the short flight of steps leading above decks. "It is not that funny."

"Not on your end, perhaps."

"Not at all. I can scarcely breathe in this cursed thing. Whoever invented such an evil contraption should've been skinned alive for it."

Jo laughs – actually laughs – at that. "Easy, now, it's not the end of the world. We slip into town, find your brother, slip back out with him in tow, and you can go straight down to change. Should take no time at all, right?"

"Hm. One can only hope."

…

The little cabin/blacksmith's shop is unlocked and quite empty when Emily reaches it with Jo, and Emily finds it to be rather eerie, to spite the fact that she'd hardly expected anyone to be here. She works her way through it, looking through things a bit simply because she now has the time to. The small trunk that had housed her father's things – and then, apparently, Jade's – is still filled with different odds and ends, letters and pieces of clothing. Emily smiles when she finds the shirt and breeches she used to sneak out in as a small child, and shakes her head when she finds the bottles of rum that had been hidden in there for who knew how long. She is glad to find that Joshy had indeed gone through it too; her letters and the money she'd been sending are missing.

The most interesting thing she finds, however, is a letter, hidden at the very bottom of the chest along with a necklace of all things; a simple chain of gold with several small teardrop ruby charms hanging from it. Too curious to wait, Emily sits on the small bed that once was hers and sets the necklace aside before unfolding the letter.

Emily,

I know you are thoroughly convinced that I never liked you at all, and it is likely you won't believe me if I tell you otherwise. I am going to do so anyway, if only because I have a feeling this will now be my only chance to set things right. When I first met your father, I knew nothing of your mother, and was not at all aware that he was a married man. I saw only him, and you, and I wanted to help because it is so rare a thing for a man to care for a child quite the way Will did for you. I cannot say what my own actions would have been had I known the true circumstances. I am not perfect any more than he was. My intention here is not to justify myself, but only to tell you that I cared for you too, as if you were my own. If I was hard on you, it was only because I worried you would be too much the product of your parents. I was right, but I should not have been worried, I know that now. You have chosen the path that best suits you, and I cannot blame you for it.

I am not well, as I have not been well for some time, and they still cannot put a name to my illness. Caring for Joshua grows harder every day, so I am planning a voyage to England, to see his grandmother and aunt. With any luck, they will take him in, in which case you will never read this. If you are reading this, I have no choice but to ask that you take care of him, if not for my sake, then for his.

The necklace is yours. Your father acquired it at some point during his own adventures before he disappeared properly. You left just before I was going to give it to you.

I wish you only the best, Emily.

Jade

Well. That was – unexpected.

"Captain?" Jo calls, startling Emily as she peers into the room. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes." Emily folds up the letter and picks the necklace back up. "Fine."

"I talked to some of the woman in town. Your brother is staying with a Mrs. O'Malley."

Emily brightens a bit at this. "An elderly woman? Runs the general store?" Jo nods, and Emily smiles. "Good. This might be simpler than I first thought."

"You know this woman?" Jo follows her out onto the street.

"There aren't many here that I haven't at least met before, but Mrs. O'Malley was sort of special. Nosy, I suppose, really, but then it was pretty obvious when my father… well, anyway, she used to give me a jar of strawberry jam when I would come into her shop, as a gift." Emily stops in front of the small cottage just across the street from the one that had been Jade's. Taking a breath, as much has changed, Emily steels herself for any sort of reception, and knocks on the door.

Several moments pass, and then the door is opened to reveal a small woman with hair that is more gray than ginger, looking just as she always does with an apron tied over her dress and a bit of flour smudged on her lined cheeks, suggesting she has been busy in the kitchens. "Yes, good…" A smile had been on her lips, but it fades when she recognizes who is on her doorstep. Placing one hand on her hip, Mrs. O'Malley eyes Emily with wise green eyes, her gaze quickly turning guarded. Emily opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She is taller than the older woman by several inches, has faced down pirates and navy men twice her size, and has managed to survive a nasty infection and the loss of her own leg… and yet any tough, more pirate-like attitude she would normally be sporting dissolves under the critical gaze of this little old woman. "Little Joshua told me about yahr letter, but I think we both had our doubts with the rumors that were told of yah." Her familiar Irish brogue would be a comfort to hear if Emily wasn't abruptly preoccupied with the realization that her original assumption was, apparently, correct. She was not to receive the warmest of welcomes.

"Rumors?" Emily asks, half-heartedly, then re-gathers her resolve. "If you'd be kind enough to allow me the chance to explain myself…"

Mrs. O'Malley eyes her a moment more, then slowly steps aside. "T'is only fair, I suppose. Come, come, you and yah're friend. I'll put on some tea." She bustles back inside, towards her kitchen, and Emily takes a breath, glancing behind her.

Jo turns to her with that eyebrow of hers raised. "Simpler than you thought, yes?"

"Oh, don't start." Emily huffs before slipping inside the house. "It's not my fault the people in this town can't seem to mind their own bloody…"

"Emily?" A familiar voice rings out, and Emily freezes, turning slowly to come face to face with none other than Joshua Turner. She's not sure what she was expecting. Some excitement, maybe? If that was it, she is sorely disappointed. The look on his face is hard in a way that is almost disturbing for a not-quite-nine-year-old, and his arms are crossed. "You came?" He says, cautious, as if he can't quite believe it.

"Of course I did." Emily stutters. Had he truly expected otherwise?

"To take me with you."

"That is why you wrote to me, isn't it?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Apparently, this was going to be even harder than she thought.

And that's it for now. Sorry that I lied, no Captain Lizzie in this chapter, it was getting long. She'll be in the next one, I promise. As for the letter from Jade, that was added in last minute, just because I thought her actions were never quite explained well enough. Thanks for reading. :)