Chapter 14: Desperation

TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of suicide

Heavy feet clicked against the cobblestone street as Roy darted after Fullmetal. The kid was in no condition to be running, and he would be dammed if he let him do something he would later regret.

If he were still around later.

Roy quickly pushed the thought from his head; Ed was distraught and not thinking clearly, but surely the kid was strong enough that…he wouldn't. Though, with everything Ed had been through and everything he wasn't telling Mustang, he wouldn't be surprised if the thought crossed his subordinate's mind.

Would he actually act on it?

That wasn't going to be an option, Roy thought with a grimace as he followed the dash of red through the streets.

"Fullmetal!" He yelled, but Ed clearly didn't want to stop and chat as he continued darting around people walking through town.

Mustang tried to wave a few quick apologies as he pushed past people, but hell, he didn't care if they thought he was being an asshole. He was busy and as far as they were concerned, he was just doing his job.

His lungs started to burn with the effort, his body still rather displeased with all it had been through today. Just moments ago, it had felt like his skin was going to rupture from the pressure of his blood burning through him, at least until Edward was able to disrupt the alchemical circle.

Now, he was panting and desperately trying to keep up. He considered himself to be in decent shape, but Ed was smart and agile, despite his injuries and automail limbs. With a shake of his head, Mustang continued forward.

Ed grit his teeth in pain as he sprinted, away from Mustang, away from the fear of being known.

He felt nauseous and lightheaded, his body having lost a decent amount of blood. That, and the fact that he hadn't been eating regularly at all.

His body had slowly adjusted over the last few weeks, and missing meals no longer left him feeling faint and useless. However, he certainly wasn't in any condition to be running through Central after everything that had just happened.

He wished more than anything that he could just, stop. Stop running, stop lying, stop hiding, stop hurting.

Part of him knew that some of this was his own doing, and that he did have some say in the matter. However, he couldn't be selfish like that. If he gave in to Mustang and Hawkeye's compassion, he put Al at risk.

If he kept going with things as they were, Al would eventually pick up on things. He was smart, and Ed wouldn't be surprised if he already had an idea of what might be happening. Sure, they hadn't really talked in the last few days, or weeks, but Ed did notice that Al had stopped hanging out around Hohenheim as much.

Which Hohenheim loved, Ed thought with an eyeroll.

If he kept things the same, he would only continue to worry Hawkeye, Mustang, the team. They would continue to expend energy on him, energy they should be using for themselves and their families.

It would be nice, to let himself be loved.

But he didn't have a choice, he reminded himself with a quick sigh.

With a glance behind him, he could still see Mustang huffing after him. He needed to lose him, before he couldn't run anymore. His limbs screeched with agony the more he continued to run, and he knew he couldn't keep this up much longer.

Spotting a thin alley up ahead, Ed jerked his body to a half-halt and jumped into the dark crevice between the buildings. Taking as deep a breath as he could muster while still moving, he clapped his hands together, and pressed them against the wall to his right.

Mustang watched Ed's red cloak disappear between the stone buildings and he put the brakes on in order to turn after him.

That brat really thought he could lose him, huh, Mustang thought with a scowl. He may be…old…older…but he was still a State Alchemist. Ed couldn't lose him that easily.

The wall came out of nowhere and Mustang ran headfirst into the alchemically made stone that jutted out from one of the buildings. He stumbled back with a pained gasp, losing his balance and falling to the ground.

Warmth flowed down his chin, and every twitch of his face brought searing pain to his nose.

That damn brat, Mustang grimaced as he gingerly brought a gloved hand up under his nose. His vision swam as he lay there, and when he brought his hands back down, he blurrily noticed the red coating his fingertips.

Broken, for sure, Mustang noted.

His head pounded with every breath he took, and Roy knew this was going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow.

He couldn't tell which was more aggravating, the fact that Ed had hit Mustang with a wall, or the fact that he was long gone by the time Mustang dragged himself to his feet. With a hitched breath, Mustang turned and walked groggily back to the investigation site.

Ed didn't look back as soon as he crafted the wall, and instead kept running in the direction of home.

He thought he heard a strangled noise, but hoped it was nothing. Mustang would have seen the wall and stopped in time; Ed reassured himself. He was a smart man.

Once he was certain he was no longer being followed, he slowed to a pained walk. His lungs were grateful for the reprieve, but he still had a way to go before he made it home.

Home.

He hadn't ever really considered it home, but he noticed recently he had succumbed to thinking of it as such. It wasn't a home by any means, just a cold house that forced broken people together without bothering to try and soften the edges.

However, it was still, home in a sense. It was confusing, and Ed didn't know how to explain it nor justify it to himself.

A drip of cold water broke Ed from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. Small droplets were starting to break from the grey clouds above: the rain Mustang had mentioned.

As if this day couldn't get any worse, Ed grimaced.

It was a light drizzle at the moment, but it was cold and unwelcoming. People around him started closing windows and darting indoors, where they'd remain dry. Ed watched as the ground started to darken with each drop that splattered against the cobblestone.

His hair begun to stick to his face, and his coat felt heavy the longer he stood out in the rain. Ed thought he could see the thin whisps of his breath in the air, but maybe he was just being dramatic.

It was cold, but not that cold.

By the time Ed stood in front of Hohenheim's house, he was thoroughly soaked. The sky was dark as rain hammered down with a sorrowful fury. He knew his automail would chastise him later for not trying to hitch a ride, but at least most of the blood had washed off with the water.

The gashes on his arm and torso were still raw and painful, some still dripping bright red. They needed medical attention, but at this point Edward didn't think it mattered anymore. With a heavy sigh, he grasped the miraculously unlocked brass doorknob and stumbled inside.

Hawkeye was busy talking over what had happened with the rogue alchemist to the police, when she saw Mustang stumble into the bakery. She motioned to Fuery and Breda to finish talking with the officer, and half-jogged over to the exhausted Colonel.

She was quick to pull his thick and drenched coat off of him and urged him to take a seat at one of the wooden tables. His nose looked swollen, and there were still some spots of red on his lips. He had a large scrape on his forehead and was holding his head in his hands as he sat, shivering from the cold rain.

"I lost him," Mustang said after a moment, as though the lack of a displeased child wasn't clue enough. Hawkeye was still fussing with his clothes, trying to remove as many wet layers as possible while still leaving him clothed.

Riza opened her mouth to say something but instead just sighed, pulling up a chair next to him and taking a seat. There wasn't anything she could say that would make the situation any better than it was.

"I tried, but that damned brat hit me with a wall," Roy muttered bitterly.

Well, that would explain the face.

"I don't understand," Roy sighed. "He seemed so broken, so helpless. I really thought…I thought he was going to finally let us in. I…I tried…"

Roy's voice wavered and Hawkeye knew he was trying to fight back emotions, so he didn't appear weak in front of his subordinates and the officers.

"You can't blame yourself for his decisions," she said after a while. "Right now, he can't see any other options from what his brain is feeding him, and all we can do is be there for him no matter what happens."

"I'm worried," Roy stated immediately. "There has to be something more we can do… if I'd have only been able to catch up to him-"

"You tried Roy," Riza reminded him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You did your best, just like Ed's trying to do his best."

"But what if my best isn't good enough?"

Riza was silent.

"What if this is like Ishval all over again, where no matter how much I try I can't make a difference in anything?"

Riza pulled Mustang into a half-hug, so that his head was resting on her shoulder as she sat beside him.

"When I was younger, my father was cruel toward me," Riza started. She felt Roy stir, but she kept her hand tight around his shoulder.

"I didn't know what to do, and because he was still my father, I convinced myself it was for the best. That he knew what he was doing, and if he did something I didn't like, I must have done something to deserve it."

"Riza-"

She squeezed his shoulder gently, stopping him.

"It wasn't until I met a young, aspiring soldier, that I realized not everyone was going to treat me this way. That maybe, I deserved more than what my father had convinced me of. That there were other paths in life, and I didn't have to remain stuck at home."

Riza took a deep, shaky breath, before continuing.

"It was hard, to talk about it. It still is. I didn't want to seem weak at the time, so when I enlisted into the military, I told myself I wouldn't speak of it. I would push on and become the best soldier I could be."

She caught Breda's eye from across the room; the police had started gathering their photos and evidence for their report. She nodded to him, and he followed them to assist. Havoc was being looked over by the medics that arrived with the officers when Riza made the call, if he was lucky, he'd only have a mild concussion.

"War was hell," She admitted after a moment. She heard Roy chuckle coldly below her in agreement.

"War was hell," she started again. "But despite everything that happened, despite everything my father had done, what I'd grown up believing, I was never alone."

"I don't know how things would have played out if you had never showed up, had never let me know there were other paths, other options," Riza stated softly.

She shifted as Roy pulled himself out of their embrace to meet her eyes. She offered him a sad, but genuine smile.

"You've already made a difference, Roy."

Al's eyes widened from across the room as Ed stumbled through the door. He was drenched from head to toe, and Al noticed he had several large gashes on his arm. His black shirt was pretty cut up as was the skin underneath it, Al took note of.

"Ed!" He said with a start, jumping up from his chair.

Giving him space be damned, his brother needed help, whether he wanted it or not.

"I'm ok Al," Ed grunted as he strained to pull his water-soaked coat off. Al came over and helped him, lifting the heavy wool cloak off his shoulders and tossing it over the coat rack in the entryway.

"You are not ok," Al cried. "Stop saying that."

Ed opened his mouth to fire something back at him, to come up with an excuse, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to him.

"I'll be ok," he said instead. "I just need to go dry off and get ointment on this automail before I start to regret it later," he chuckled.

"Let me help," Al insisted, letting Ed lean on him so he could slip his shoes off.

"It's ok Al," Ed muttered. "I'm just going to go take a warm shower and-"

"Ed, your chest!"

Ed looked down where Al was lifting the cut in the tattered black shirt. The gash underneath it was still dripping a decent amount of blood, and Ed knew that was the more serious of all his wounds.

"I know," Ed said. "I'll…I'll call you up for help once I get warmed up," He compromised. "I'll take a warm shower, and then you can help me get these bandaged."

Al looked like he wanted to argue, but he accepted that Ed was at least willing to let him help with something. Finally.

On the other hand, Ed felt guilt worm its way through his stomach, aiding to the nausea he was already feeling.

He wasn't going to call Al up for help, and he wasn't planning on taking a shower either.

He needed to just… be done with things, before they could get any worse.

"Al…" Ed met his brother's soul-fire eyes and the guilt stabbed deeper into his chest. "I-I'm sorry I've been so distant," he admitted. "I still love you, and I…I'm sorry-"

Ed's eyes widened at the metal surrounding him as Al swept him up in a careful hug.

"I love you too," Al said sincerely.

He hadn't forgiven Ed, at least not verbally, but those words alone were enough to bring tears to Ed's eyes.

Was he making the wrong decision?

After a minute Al let Ed go, and he gave a half-hearted smile as he headed upstairs. His body ached, and the light-headedness from earlier had only progressed. He paused for a moment, hand pressed against the doorframe to his room, as he caught his breath and steadied himself.

He could hear Al moving about downstairs, no doubt looking for a first aid kit of some sort. His muscles tensed when he heard Hohenheim's harsh voice, though his tone was far from that when speaking to Al.

Slipping into his room quickly, he shut the door behind him.

The worn brass lock on the inside of the door flashed back at him, and with a nervous shudder he clicked it in place. He'd never dared lock the door before; Hohenheim would have had his head.

However, locking it now was the best option for him.

Ed shrugged off his cold, wet clothes, in favor for some dry ones. He knew it didn't really matter, but he might as well be warm and comfortable.

After he took the care to brush and re-braid his damp hair, he pulled out one of his empty journals and began to write. To Mustang, to Riza, to Al, to Winry. He wanted to make sure they knew how sorry he was, and how he was trying to do what was best for everyone involved.

He'd been so caught up in his writing that he hadn't heard the footsteps, and soon a sharp knock on his door jolted him so hard his pencil tip broke.

It was Hohenheim.

As soon as Ed walked upstairs Al began opening drawers and cabinets, searching. They had to have a first aid kit somewhere. He knew he'd need it once Ed called to him.

If he called to him.

Al shook his head, metal helmet rattling. Of course he'd call to him, he said he would. Sure, he'd lied about a lot of things recently, and been secretive, but Ed had seemed genuine in his assurance.

"What are you looking for?" Hohenheim asked, slipping his glasses back onto his face as he walked out of his study.

"First aid kit," Al muttered half-heartedly. After listening, and watching, and trying to piece together whatever Ed was going through, he'd realized that Hohenheim was definitely a part of it.

He didn't know if Hohenheim was saying mean things to Ed, or pushing him too hard, but it was starting to make him uncomfortable. Not to mention that he'd seen Ed freeze up every time Hohenheim was in the same room as him, and Al doubted Ed's spontaneous desire to help clean around the house was of his own will.

Al didn't know what was going on between the two of them, but Ed had started acting weird ever since Resembool, and it was starting to annoy him how casual Hohenheim acted about their relationship.

"Surely not for yourself," Hohenheim said with a chuckle. "Did Ed come home? Is he alright?"

Al tried to convince himself father was asking out of genuine concern, but Al couldn't help but feel uneasy. It felt more like an interrogation, like he was trying to read between the metal cracks in Al's armor.

"He's ok, just a little banged up from work."

"Ah I see. I take it you two are getting along again? I must say I was worried, you two haven't really spent quality time together."

If Al could have bit his tongue he would have.

"Uh, yeah. In a way."

Al was busy digging through an old chest, and didn't see the glare Hohenheim sent his way. Al was starting to catch on, and Hohenheim didn't like that he was wanting to hang around his brother again.

Did he not hate him for what he'd done to him? How could he not?

Hohenheim hated him.

When Ed was younger, he was always insistent on bothering him during his work. At first, he'd chalked it up to curiosity and a youthful energy, but over time it got to be a bit of a nuisance. Especially considering a lot of the work he was doing was deathly important, and their livelihood depended on it.

When he caught Ed trying to read one of his priceless books, dirt and slobber covering the edges of the pages, he'd done his best to hold back his anger. He'd snapped at Ed, and made him cry, and Tricia had immediately run in concerned.

She'd told Hohenheim to be gentler, that they were just kids. He'd felt bad about snapping, but when Ed was back in the study the next day doing the same thing, it was hard to believe he wasn't doing it intentionally.

When Al was a toddler, he was quiet and reserved. He was polite to his mother, and Hohenheim, and it was such a relief from Ed's chaos. He tried to love them equally, as they were both his sons and he loved them. But…it was hard sometimes.

Hohenheim remembered the looks on their faces when he had to leave on a job, knowing he likely wouldn't be back at all. He had no idea how long it would take, nor if he would even make it back alive. They'd all seemed upset, sad, but Ed had seemed angry.

He didn't like how the look felt, the anger directed towards him for doing what he needed to. But, he knew they were still young and had every right to be upset.

He remembered planning to make a trip home, only to hear about Tricia's death. He was in shock, and devastated, and couldn't bring himself to go back there. He didn't want to be reminded of everything he'd left behind, even if his sons were still there. He felt some guilt, but also knew that he'd be useless to them with the state he was in.

After many years, he'd heard that Ed had become a State Alchemist, much to his surprise. He figured the boy had to have learned discipline at some point, and was proud of his son for achieving something like that at such a young age. He enjoyed reading the papers published about the "Alchemist of the People", and decided a trip to Resembool would do him good.

When he'd reached out to his sons, he was worried they wouldn't want to meet him. However, the bounding suit of armor and a begruntled cloaked blonde met him at the train station regardless.

Hohenheim jokingly told Al that he hadn't needed to get all suited up for the occasion, and an awkward silence hung through the air. When Ed and Al explained what had happened over dinner, Hohenheim had excused himself and told the boys to get some sleep.

He was disgusted, and haunted, and enraged. Ed had always been so reckless, so careless, so selfish. But to do…that…to his own brother. His brother, who was quiet and kind and well-behaved.

Hohenheim tried to forgive him, Al clearly didn't seem to mind being a hollow shell of a boy. But he couldn't.

When Ed first made a mistake and damaged their old house, Hohenheim had snapped at him. He remembered Tricia's words but dismissed them, instead letting out his frustration and anger on the alchemist.

He remembered how…nice, it had felt. It made him feel powerful, feel in charge, feel like he was standing up for Al in a way Al may never have been able to. Standing up for Tricia.

It was what he had to do, he'd decided then and there. If no one was going to teach Ed that what he'd done was disgustingly wrong, then he had to.

After all, he was a father, wasn't he?

He hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had, but he couldn't shake the enjoyment he got from seeing Ed quiver and flinch. The kid was finally learning to respect him, finally starting to understand how his past actions had hurt other people.

He'd felt genuinely bad the first time he hit him, but damn if it wasn't effective. Sometimes he knew he went a little too far, but Ed was tough, and this would help make him even tougher. Besides, it was nothing the military wouldn't put him through anyway, right?

He didn't know when the lines had blurred, and his hate became more apparent and genuine. He didn't know when he'd started enjoying the power dynamic and control he had. He couldn't tell anymore, how far was too far. He just knew he had to keep Al from knowing and keep Ed from telling anyone else.

He just knew, that Ed was no longer a son to him.

Not in his eyes, and not in his heart.

"Maybe it's in the kitchen?" Hohenheim offered after "helping" Al look for a bit. He knew it was in there, but he was trying to observe Al and figure out how close he was to knowing what was going on.

Al had been acting cold with him for the last week or so, but he'd dismissed it as being upset about his brother wanting space.

Now, he was starting to get frustrated, and worried.

Had Ed told him?

It was something the brat would do, that's for sure.

"I'm going to go check on your brother," Hohenehim stated suddenly, needing to know. "Would you be able to get a pot of tea boiling? I'm sure Ed would like something warm to drink after being out in the cold rain."

It was hard to suggest such things for someone so insidious, but it was all part of how things had to be.

"That's a good idea!" Al exclaimed, finally seeming to be a little more welcoming with Hohenheim. Hohenheim smiled back at him and went to walk up the stairs.

The wooden floor was slippery with water, and Hohenheim glanced at it in disgust. Ed would just have to clean it tomorrow.

When he got to the top of the stairs he knocked on the closed door, expecting Ed to let him in. After all, it was his house.

The silence that followed irked him, and he grasped the brass handle to walk in himself. The handle stuck and wouldn't budge, and with fury he realized Ed had locked the door.

Locked him out.

What a selfish bitch.

Ed gulped as he heard Hohenheim rattle the doorknob. He didn't know what to do. He could let Hohenheim in here, but then he'd see the letters and who knows what he'd do.

On the other hand, he could not let him in, but would that give him enough time to get done what was needed?

Ed clapped his hands together and his automail arm shifted into a sharp blade. It was now or never, he realized shakily. His hand felt sweaty and his breathing was rapid.

Did he really want to do this?

Could he actually follow through with this?

There would be no turning back.

Ed bit his lip, tears cascading down his cheeks still red from the cold.

Did he really want to die?

He didn't have a chance to think on it further, as Hohenheim swung the door open. Electricity crackled from around the doorknob.

Of course, Ed thought with a grimace. He could just use alchemy to twist the lock around.

Hohenheim looked furious, more angry than Ed had ever seen him. He shut the door behind him carefully, but Ed could see his hands quake in anger.

"What did you tell Al," He snapped immediately, walking over to loom over Ed's kneeling form.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Ed stammered, confused.

There was a sharp sting as Hohenheim slapped the side of his face.

"Don't make me repeat myself. What did you tell Al?!" He growled, hand raised to hit Ed again if he answered incorrectly.

"I didn't tell him anything," Ed answered hurriedly. "He was worried about the wounds I got from work, and I told him I'd call him up later so he could help me bandage them."

Hohenheim paused for a minute, Ed seemed to be genuine and telling the truth. An open journal resting on Ed's desk caught his eye, and he glanced at the pages torn out and folded into neat little letters. They were all addressed to different people, people Ed was fond of.

Looking back at the cowering blonde, he took note of the tear stains on his cheeks and the way his automail was sharpened.

"You, you're trying to leave," He said, unsure how to feel about it.

Ed paled, and Hohenheim knew he was right.

"You're trying to die," He repeated, a cold chuckle escaping his lips.

"I-I don't know, I-"

"You think you can just get out of it that easily?" Hohenheim snapped, grabbing the scrambled letters. "You think you can put your brother through hell, leave him trapped in that metal suit, and then off yourself so you don't have to deal with it?"

Ed flinched at the harsh words, and at the truth behind them. He knew Hohenheim was right.

"You think you can just quit because your life sucks so much?" Hohenheim sneered in a mocking tone. "You don't even know what true suffering is!"

He shook the papers in Ed's face before tossing them aside. Ed watched them fall to the ground crumpled, defeated.

"I don't know what's worse," He shook his head with a breathless laugh. "The fact that you were just going to quit and end things without thinking about your brother, or anyone else, or the fact that you couldn't even do that properly."

Ed winced at the strangled noise of despair that echoed in the room, and with horror he realized it came from his own lips.

He couldn't even die properly.

The words flooded his brain, repeating over, and over, and over, and over again.

Hohenheim's fist hit him upside the head, and he was knocked on his side.

"I knew you were selfish, but this is low even for you," he said disgusted. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he snarled at Ed, anger bubbling underneath his surface.

"You told Al, and you're scared of what I'll do to you, so you'd rather die than face the consequences of your actions," Hohenheim stated blankly.

Ed shook with exhaustion and fear, still confused. He didn't know what he was talking about, but he was terrified of what was going to happen.

Hohenheim was going to kill him.

Ed hadn't really wanted to die, he'd realized as soon as he'd started down that path. He was just doing it out of desperation, he'd had no other option. Even now he didn't really have any other choice, but as he watched Hohenheim fume above him, he realized he didn't want to die.

At least, he didn't want to die by Hohenheim's hands.

A swift kick to the ribs jolted Ed from his fearful thoughts and he gasped with pain. Hohenheim kicked again, and again, until Ed swore he heard the crunch of his ribs under the leather boot.

He whipped his automail arm around, trying to land at least one hit on Hohenheim. He was fighting for his life now, at least that's what he'd convinced himself.

Hohenheim darted out of the way, but not before Ed was able to nick him across the back of his hand. It was a thin cut, but Ed was pleased, nonetheless.

Hohenheim, however, was not.

With a growl he lunged forward, clapping his hands and grabbing Ed's automail arm. He was angry, furious, and wanted to destroy it. Lightning wrapped around the limb, getting into the gears, disfiguring the automail.

White hot pain soared through Ed's arm, nearly knocking him unconscious. Despite his best attempt, he couldn't keep himself together.

The pain was too much.

Ed screamed.

Al dropped the cups he was holding, letting them shatter across the kitchen floor. The first aid kit laid open and abandoned on the table as he ran up the stairs, narrowly missing the pool of water on some of them.

Ed was in pain. Severe pain, by the sound of it.

Ed's door was cracked open, and he could feel the hum of alchemy pouring out from the room.

He slammed the door open and froze.

If he still had a heart, it would have stopped at the sight before him.

"What…what are you doing?"

Hohenheim froze, leaned over Ed. His hands were around the automail arm, and his clothes were ruffled. His eyes widened in horror as he realized Al was seeing everything and seeing him in a compromising position.

"Y-your brother needs to have his automail removed before it gets infected," He started quickly. "I'm afraid I don't know how to do it properly and-"

"What. Are you doing." Al repeated, his voice cold. He didn't buy it for a second.

"Alphonse, I already told you, I-"

Al's eyes flicked to meet Ed's, and Ed felt a weird surge of relief.

Al knew, Al finally knew. He hadn't spilled anything to him, he'd been strong until the end. Al knowing now, it wasn't his fault.

"You've…you've done this before," Al started, his red eyes widening as the pieces started to click together. "You've always done this…" he trailed off, horror echoing in his voice.

The secrets, the lying, the exhaustion, the weight loss. Ed doing chores, Ed freezing around Hohenheim, Ed avoiding the house.

It all was starting to make sense, in a horrifying way.

"You, you've been doing this to Ed for months?!"

Hohenheim dropped Ed's arm, and it hit the floor with a resounding thud.

Ed hadn't told him.

Al hadn't known.

Hohenheim's mouth gaped in horror as he fumbled for words for the first time all evening.

Al didn't know.

Al's gloved hands bunched into fists, his eyes burning with hatred and poison. Metal creaked as he shifted his stance, ready to come in fists raised.

Al knew now.

A/N: Wow I wasn't expecting to be able to post again so quickly, but now that we're in the climax of the story I have more motivation and energy to write. I'm in a groove I suppose haha!

This chapter is a bit intense, but I think it's one of my favorites. I really really love how it came out, and exploring the different perspectives was refreshing.

I can't thank you all enough for your continued support, despite my unintentionally long hiatus and my inconsistent posting schedule. I was so shocked to see so many of you still excited about my writing after all this time, and I can't tell you how much it means to me.

I hope you enjoy this one, I know I did!