To strawberryfreckless- Hello! It's been too long and I was a bit nervous about coming back, but here I am XD Thank you for reviewing, that was a wonderful one to wake up to! I've really been pushing my writing these last few years, currently working on my own series. As I put in the last A/N, I have now published my first book! A great deal of my writing practise came from writing all these fics and I would not be where I am today without them :D I remember the old Lou torture fic all too well, but this time round I needed a new air to it. I've got quite a few chapters prepped and planned, I can't wait to get this going again! Thank you so so SO much for hanging around. I'm thrilled my old fics are still entertaining people and I hope my new one does the same! I've missed being here and I've missed my beautiful readers. I'm updating earlier than planned just for you; it's a shorter one today, but you've pulled me two days ahead of schedule with your amazing review, so here you go! ^_^

Also, I changed it a bit O:)

They set off as the sun came up. By lunchtime, they had landed on the roof of the apartment block.

Louisa dismounted. She looked around.

Everything was the same as it had always been. The skyline, the wonky aerial, the abandoned garden box caked in sh— faeces.

Storm nudged her in the back.

Go home, go on. Louisa felt her stomach. She had acquired a hoodie on their way home, worn and navy and two sizes too big. It hid things, but for how much longer?

Storm huffed hot air on the back of her neck. I did not fly all that way and back again for you to stand on the roof.

Louisa hugged herself, shoulders hunching. Storm bit her hair and pulled, not harshly but enough to get her attention. Your mom's waiting for you. Go.

"She knows?"

She knows I left in a hurry. She was freaking out before I got your call and it's taken us ages to get back. Go see her. Tell her you're home.

"But what about—?"

You don't have to tell her everything right away, or anything at all. That's your call.

"She'll want to know."

Then she'll know to wait.

Jessica almost ripped the door from its hinges at the timid knock. A knock she had waited for, nerves fraught, wrung out from sleepless nights, fruitless searches. She gave herself a second to process her daughter was finally on the other side, consumed and overwhelmed.

She might have screamed, wordless heartbroken nonsense, and she crushed Louisa to her, squeezing and hugging until she felt bones pop.

Louisa hid her face in her mother's shoulder, the emotion catching. She cried, Jessica cried, they both cried until their heads pounded. Jessica promised to never let her go again, stroking her hair, kissing her temple and her forehead over and over. Louisa burrowed into her, hands curling in the back of her shirt. Jessica smelled like clean laundry and books and sweet treats. She smelled like home.

An age passed. Jessica began to process her daughter's condition— pale, thin, too thin, dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes. Scars here, scars there, wounds she had never seen before, hardly an inch of her spared.

A bath was run, clean clothes were put out, food was made. Jessica fussed and coddled, sitting outside the bathroom when Louisa panicked at letting her in.

Jessica knew why. Of course she knew why. While she clung to the daughter she had feared lost forever, squashing her so fiercely it almost felt like she was trying to absorb her and protect her forever more, she felt it.

Whatever had happened, there was a baby in the mix.

Louisa only nodded when asked. Her expression said enough about the father. She had no idea how far along. She had only found out it was June yesterday.

"Whatever you want to do," Jessica had said, fighting to keep her tone calm, "I am right here." She gripped Louisa's hand. "You are never getting away from me again."

Louisa rubbed her eyes, forced herself to stand up. Her mother had been patient and kind, even if she was so clearly plotting murder. She had informed everyone of Louisa's safe return the day after and she had only permitted Sally to visit. Sally had that right, having lost her daughter thrice in her life.

Sally came once a week. She brought her famous fudge and cakes and pies, most of which was blue. Some of it was pink, her attempt at dyeing things red, promising she would work out the right amount for Louisa. She brought books and films and then one day showed up with Estelle's old crib. Louisa cried at the sight of it, reality hitting hard at that point.

She had to be calmed with tea and, while she did not want to be hugged, she did not pull away when either mother held her hand. Once settled, she agreed to have the crib in her room. Jessica and Sally carried it up and Sally had come prepared. Estelle had grown out of a lot of things and Sally had been swamped with blankets and baby clothes and toys and all manners of things. Some of it she had passed onto her first grandson, who she carried pictures of. Poor thing was the spit of Percy, though with Annabeth's eyes. Chubby and inquisitive, just finding his feet. He looked healthy and happy, growing up in a home and a family that clearly adored him.

Louisa smiled to herself. She would do the year all over again for her nephew's round face and dribbly smile.

It was September now. Louisa still hadn't seen her friends. She had not seen her brother or her sister-in-law and she had not seen the nephew she had saved beyond those pictures.

What would they think? She had always been their secret weapon, their back-up, their muscle. Now what was she?

Tired. She was tired.

No, stay awake.

She paced the room, keeping her head on a swivel.

She had lost a year to save a baby and, from it, she had another baby.

A baby boy. Tiny, pink, a dusting of dark fluffy hair. Her hair. He was swaddled in Estelle's blankets, as exhausted from the birth as Louisa was, or so Jessica said. Louisa remembered some of the birth— she thought she had wet herself while watching TV and then pains had started. Two hours later, guided by her mom, she cradled the tiny pink thing, then wrapped in a towel.

That was three days ago. Louisa had stood guard since.

Luke had almost got what he wanted.

He had already proven nothing would stop him. Louisa, gritting her teeth, dared him to come. She would not be defeated and she would not let harm befall a newborn. Not now, not a year ago, not ever. Especially one she had to keep reminding herself was her own.

Oh, hey, I didn't kill Bradley :O