R was in bad shape.
For the fifth time that morning, he hugged the porcelain bowl of the toilet and vomited his guts out.
Then, weak, pale and shaking, he sagged back against the bathroom wall, and tried to think around the sledgehammer pounding against the wall of his skull with every heartbeat.
It was impossible. His head hurt too much to think. Couldn't open his eyes either, every time he did it was like the world was interrogating him with a spotlight the size of the sun, and his head split wide with it.
It'd be a blessing actually, his head splitting open, ending this misery.
At least he'd stopped vomiting.
No.. I haven't.. ohgod
Rowan pushed off the wall at the sudden swell of nausea and held on for dear life as his stomach offered up the very last particle of food it held.
There was a knock on the bathroom door as he sagged over the bowl, well and truly done.
"You alive in there?"
It was Joshua's voice, and he could tell it was framed by a smirk.
The sound of the voice buffeted harshly against his brain, and he groaned, desperately wanting the world to fuck off and leave him to die in peace.
Everything smelled of alcohol. His breath, his clothes. What he'd just graced the toilet with.
And why did his mouth taste like dirty socks? It was the first thing he'd noticed when he woke a little while ago. He'd barely lifted his head from the couch he'd found himself on before the world had crushed in, and he'd half staggered, half crawled to the bathroom before spending the next however many minutes in hell.
Caleb had obviously spent the night eating dirty socks, drilling holes into his brain, and showering in vodka.
The thought of vodka made him want to puke again.
"Seriously, say something kid," Joshua said, with the tiniest measure of sympathy in his voice, though that could have been Rowan's imagination.
"No," Rowan mumbled, and groaned as the sound reverberated through his head.
Speaking was not allowed. No more speaking.
"That's it," Joshua sighed. "I'm coming in."
Oh god, go away.
But Joshua didn't. Rowan couldn't even lift his head to look at him as the man pushed into the room and stood over him.
"Kid," the man said.
Rowan ignored him.
Something cold was pressed against his temple, and Rowan jerked away instinctively, pressing up against the wall as he raised his hand to ward Joshua off.
The cold something was pressed into his hand, and slowly, as his eyes creaked open, he realized that Joshua was giving him a drink.
"Uh," he grunted, and tried to see what the drink was. The glass was deliciously cool against his hand and beaded with condensation. It was red. That's all he got before he had to shut his eyes again.
Joshua pushed it at him again. "Drink it, it'll help."
Instead Rowan took it and pressed it up against his forehead, his temple, his cheek. So wonderfully cold. It felt good, and helped to focus his mind a little.
What the hell happened last night? What the fuck did Caleb do to him?
Where was the nearest gun to shoot himself with?
Joshua laughed above him. "Drink it kid, it'll work faster that way."
Rowan peered up through slitted eyelids, trying vainly to ward off the interrogative sun. "What...?" he asked, hoping Joshua would know what he meant.
The man smirked high above him, and truthfully, didn't look much better than Rowan felt. His eyes were puffy and shadowed. A mass of yellowed bruises dotted his neck, and oddly, there were new bruises on his cheek and jaw. He had no idea where those had come from. Maybe last night... what had happened last night?
"Hangover cure," Joshua answered, and he crouched down against the opposite wall. "Tomato juice, cayenne pepper, some other stuff. Adeline makes it, never fails." He gestured with a finger. "Drink it."
Rowan made a face. He hated tomato juice. But, it felt like his brain was collapsing in on itself, so, lesser of two evils.
As quickly as he could, he drank the entire glass. And promptly started coughing as his mouth lit on fire.
"Holy shit," he croaked, and searched frantically for a sink as his throat screamed murder. "Help! Hot! Fuck!"
Joshua rolled his eyes at him, grabbed the glass and filled it with water from the sink before lowering it to him. "Here."
As Rowan frantically drained the glass, trying to douse the lava he'd poured down his gullet, Joshua shook his head at him.
"You're a real lightweight, kid," he said, smirking again. "Caleb used to do three times what you managed last night, and still made room for another shot. Don't they drink back in your city?"
Rowan got on his knees and refilled the glass, and drained it again, leaning back against the wall. Things were coming together in his head now. Despite the hole he'd just burned through his stomach, his head wasn't pounding quite so much, and the light wasn't as bad. He could think. And he did, trying to remember what had happened after he'd been pulled from Julie by Joshua.
He hadn't wanted to go. She'd been in a lot of pain, and it was all his fault. Jesus, it'd been horrible, knowing he'd hit her. Didn't matter that he'd been Caleb when he'd struck her down. Didn't matter at all. And he didn't understand why he hadn't stopped Caleb. When Julie had pushed him away, bringing Caleb up to help Joshua, he'd fallen somewhere deep. He'd been well and truly lost, and only Joshua's threat, whispered in Caleb's ear had brought him back.
It terrified him. What if Caleb hurt her again? How would he stop it?
Would he be able to?
Julie had drifted to sleep then, and he knew if he didn't do what Joshua wanted, the man would just make life more of a hell for them both. He'd made Joshua promise that he wouldn't leave Caleb and Julie alone ever again, and after he had, Rowan brought Caleb up quick, and... and it was all hazy from there on.
Samuel. Samuel had talked to him... about... ugh. The headache started building again, and Rowan knew he was treading shaky ground. He wasn't going to give himself to Caleb right now, forget about it.
So he stopped trying to remember, and gazed across at Joshua, remembering that the asshole had just asked him a question.
Rowan sighed, not wanting to talk to the guy, knowing that didn't matter. "Alcohol's banned in the city."
Joshua's eyes grew so wide, they could have popped from their sockets.
"Banned?!" the man gasped, and opened his mouth as if to ask something else, then closed it and shook his head. "Now that right there is a sin."
Rowan's mouth tugged back a little, despite himself. "I don't miss it. Was never a big drinker."
"You poor fools," Joshua said, still shaking his head. Then he looked back up at Rowan. "We'll fix that. Get you back up to shape."
"Oh god," Rowan groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "Please don't."
He was startled when Joshua burst out laughing, the sound bright and hearty. "Kid, you're a riot. It's a pity we can't be friends." His smile grew lopsided. "We were pretty friendly last night though, drinking together, shootin' the breeze."
Rowan looked away. "Wasn't me," he said quietly. Then his gaze locked back on Joshua. "I need to see Julie."
"Was good to have my brother here... just like old times," Joshua said fondly, ignoring him. "Real good."
And Joshua looked at him then, and his eyes were terribly sad, and a little needful. "Caleb, I'm real sorry I said what I said before you left. I was just... It stung that you'd give up on all of us like that."
Jesus... Rowan squeezed his eyes closed and sighed. "Joshua, I need to see Julie. Please. You can't have Caleb until I've spent time with her. I need to check on Saul too."
"Yeah, 'bout that, kid," Joshua said, his eyes pained. "Saul's dead."
Rowan's mouth dried in an instant. "What?! When?"
"Early this morning," Joshua answered. "Before the first shift started. Foley went in to check on him. Must of died not a half hour before, he was still a little warm."
With a soft sound, Rowan closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall. Dammit. It always hurt to lose someone he'd fought hard to save. Never got easy. Truth was, he didn't think the guy had much of a chance, and was frankly surprised the man had lasted this long. Still hurt though.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"Yeah, you're gunna be."
Rowan looked up at him, taken aback, but there wasn't a trace of malice in the man's face, just the same sadness.
"What?" he asked.
"Dad gets a righteous fire under him when he's angry. Right now he's real angry at you." Joshua's mouth grew thin. "Angry at me too, cause I'm the one who brought you here, and said you'd do the job right."
Frowning, Rowan shook his head. "Saul's chances were bad, I told him that. He can't blame me." Then he put two and two together. "Did he hit you? Is that where you're getting those bruises from?"
Joshua's gaze settled on him hard. "You keep your mind on your own skin, boy," he sneered. "Nevermind mine."
"A father shouldn't hit his own kid Joshua," Rowan persisted, finding something in him responding to what was going on here. A deep anger. Was it his? Or Caleb's? "He do that to you a lot? Did he do that to Caleb? Is that why Caleb's so scared of him?"
He was tempted to search through Caleb's memories then, but knew it'd probably bring Caleb back up. Couldn't risk it. But something bad was going on here. Outside of the religious crap, the poor dead hung on the walls. Something dark and bad. Something about Samuel.
Joshua made an angry sound, and shuffled up the wall to his feet. "I told you to mind your own business," he growled. Then he sighed. "Now, you do me a favor. You stay yourself, no matter whatever happens, right? You stay Rowan." His eyes grew haunted. "Don't let Caleb out till my dad's done with you. Please. You can have all day with Julie, all night too, just... please."
The hair on Rowan's neck rose, and he pulled himself to his feet to face Joshua, grimacing as his head pounded angrily. "Your dad tries to touch me, I'll rip his fucking arm off."
Joshua snorted, and his face twisted into a sneer. "Yeah, I bet. Cause that worked well on me... and who do you think taught me to fight?" Then, surprisingly, his eyes softened somewhat, and he took Rowan by the shoulders. "Look, it'll be over quick. You go ahead, be strong, he'll respect that. But end result will be the same. You stay yourself, not Caleb, and I will make it worth your while. I promise you that."
Rowan pulled himself free of Joshua's grasp, and turned to the door. "You can all fuck off. I'm going to see Julie."
The man sighed behind him. "I'll walk you over."
"Stay the hell away from me, Joshua," Rowan snapped back at him, and wrenched the door open.
And walked straight into a petite figure of a woman, with jet black hair tied in a small bun atop her head. Her brown eyes rose not quite to his, and she gave a hesitant smile.
"Uh..." he mumbled, pulling back and raising his hands. "Sorry, I.. um..."
"Adeline, clear the way for the man," Joshua barked behind him.
The woman immediately dropped her head, and shuffled aside.
"Jesus Christ," Rowan swore, angered by the clearly subservient way she'd reacted to Joshua's words.
What she did next was even more alarming. With a gasp, she quickly clapped her hands over her ears, and she looked up at him in shock.
"Oh fuck," Rowan swore again, the raised his hands apologetically, "Sorry! I mean... shit!"
Joshua smacked him in the back of the head. "Would you shut your foul mouth already? Adeline, move from the man's path!"
Rowan glared back at Joshua, then reached out and lightly touched Adeline's arm as she obediently turned to go. She flinched back as if burned.
"Thank you for the-"
Something hit him hard in the back of the head then, and he dropped to his hands and knees, groaning as the throbbing began anew. "What the..."
A hand grasped him roughly on the arm, and he realized it was Joshua, pulling him to his feet, and he was dragged towards the front door, through a living room decorated with old black and white photos, framed cross-stitchings and more crucifixes than he could count.
"You DO NOT touch my woman!" Joshua roared, pressing forward to push the door open. "You NEVER touch what's mine again, YOU GOT THAT?! GET OUT!"
Before he had a chance to stammer a reply, Joshua pushed him out the door, and Rowan found himself staggering out into the brilliant sunlight, barely keeping his feet beneath him as he slid to a stop in the dust of the dirt road.
The door slammed behind him, and Rowan winced, blinking up at the staggering amount of sunlight as he cradled his head.
Then he looked around.
People stood, silent and still, watching him, frozen in the activities of the day. The woman all avoiding eye contact, but fixed on him nonetheless, the men standing, frowning his way.
And above and beyond them all, the wall, with the grisly decoration of misshapen corpses, rotting on crosses, attended by a scattering of crows.
Jesus CHRIST.
He had to get Julie away from this fucking nuthouse!
Grunting against the pain in his head, against the too bright light, Rowan ignored everyone and started off towards the bunker, his feet shuffling up dirt and gravel as he moved as quick as he could without running, still fighting the effects of the hangover and Joshua's last blow.
The man's insistence that he would face some kind of punishment played at the back of his mind the whole way, and he looked around nervously, watching every black clad man he saw closely as he neared the concrete entrance way. They all watched him, tracking him with their eyes, and the fear grew. The air was heavy with some expectation, and as his hand raised to grasp the handle to the bunker, he found out why.
Morrissey stepped around the corner, and pressed himself between Rowan and the door.
Rowan's heart started to pound. "Excuse me," he said firmly.
"You're excused," Morrissey answered back, his mouth pulling back in a smirk. "Time to come with me, son."
Fear swelled sharply within him, and Rowan took a step back, clenching his fists. "Let me see Julie," he said, low and angry.
"You'll see Samuel first," Morrissey said, echoing Rowan's tone right back at him.
Adrenaline raced through him in a rush, and he was about to put his fist through Morrissey's face, when the man calmly raised the rifle towards his chest. The soldier twitched the end, gesturing back the way he'd come.
The adrenaline petered out, and Rowan raised his hands slowly.
Shit.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Bowing his head, hoping to give them a false impression that he'd given up, Rowan turned and shuffled back the way he'd come, and around him, the people gathered and watched. More soldiers closed in behind Morrissey as they walked, and when he peeked up through his overhanging bangs, he saw another group of armed men waiting in the center of the town.
"Shiiit," he whispered under his breath.
They were going to try and make some kind of example out of him. All because he'd lost a patient? Or was it because he was new? Was it some kind of thing they did to everyone? A way to break people down, push them into shape?
Rowan clamped down on his racing thoughts. They weren't helping. He had to stay sharp, and get his head up out of the hangover, and the hammering Joshua had given him back at the house. Breathing evenly, he walked forward until he could go no further.
Because Samuel was standing in front of him.
Rowan stared at the man's chest, both because it was the best place to focus in a fight, and because he had no desire to be Caleb right now. And not because Joshua had asked him to stay himself either, but because he had a much better chance in a fight as Rowan.
These people wanted a show? A demonstration? He'd give them one.
Be nice if his brain stopped pounding.
"We brought you in as one of our own," Samuel said loudly, so the gathered group could hear. "Trusted you with the life of one of God's chosen. And you let him die, let death claim him, when he still had the Lord's work to do."
"I tried to save him," Rowan said quickly, hoping for reason. "but his wounds were tooUG!" Something smacked him in the back of the head, and he staggered forward, almost running into Samuel.
"You wait till I'm done now," the man said calmly. Then he gestured to the men behind Rowan. "Hold him."
Shitshitshit!
Blinking against the painful thundering in his head, Rowan swiveled away, trying to keep out of everyone's grasp. The circle closed in, and he realized that this fight wasn't going to go the way he'd imagined. It certainly wouldn't be fair.
So he did something crazy. He rushed Samuel, pressing in close, and hit the man with a quick strike to the bridge of the nose. Samuel immediately dropped back, grunting as he grasped at his face, and the blood gushed over his lips.
Rowan didn't stop to gloat, immediately following it up with sharp, hard kick to the man's solar plexus.
It struck true, and the leader doubled over, gasping, a sound echoed by the voices of the people gathered around them all. Rowan had a feeling they'd never quite seen this before, but he didn't give any more thought to it, moving in swiftly to bring his clenched hands down on the man's skull.
He never delivered the blow, as someone struck him from behind again, a blow to his head from the butt of a rifle.
Rowan dropped without a sound as agony lanced his skull. Landing face down in the dirt, he writhed there, his breath kicking up puffs of dust.
Get up GET UP! The pounding in his head had reached a crescendo, and his whole body was feeling it now, as he rolled over, and tried to get his hands up underneath him.
Samuel kicked him in the side.
The breath left him in a rush, and he groaned, rolling away to his other side.
"Get.. him.. up," Samuel gasped. "Hold.. him!"
Rowan twisted onto his back, and lashed out at the soldiers reaching for him, but his swings were slow and sloppy, and he was grabbed and wrenched to his feet. Everything spun, as his side and his head pulsed in a symphony of hurt, and he struggled vainly as they pulled him forward.
To Samuel.
Blood was smeared shockingly over the man's face, and Samuel's breath came in pained gasps as he leaned in close.
"You failed Saul," he panted, and his fingers dug like claws into Rowan's shoulder as he stabbed his finger at the gathered group. "You failed us." His eyes grew sharp and dark as he drew in close again. "You failed me, boy. And through me... you failed God."
The man's voice turned to a growl. "You'll feel pain now."
Before Rowan could react, Samuel's fist drove hard into his abdomen, and all of the air flew from him as he gasped and curled forward. The blows kept coming, the steel ram of Samuel's fist hitting the same spot, over and over, until Rowan was leaning on him, unable to breathe, and finally threw up, the red of Adeline's hangover cure spilling out over the dirt road.
And the blows stopped, and Rowan sagged in the men's arms, no longer able to hold himself up, fighting for every breath through lips stinging with cayenne.
"Take him to the cells... search him for the mark... I don't care what my fool son said... Morrissey?"
"Got it," came a voice behind Rowan, and Rowan felt his arm lifted, then quickly draped over the man's neck, and he was pulled away from the circle. He had no strength, and could not lift his legs as they were dragged behind him, his sneakers drawing gouges in the dirt.
Everything went foggy then, light came and went, darkness drew him down deep, then released him, and found himself staring up at a caged fluorescent light, flickering randomly against the dull walls of a small concrete room.
Someone's head came into view, and he felt his own head being shifted back and forth as he frowned up at them, swallowing thickly.
Cool fingers pressed against his shoulder, prodding and stretching the skin for a moment before pulling away. "Someone stitched you up good there..." came a man's deep voice, and he felt his arm lifted, twisted back and forth as fingers traced along his skin. "Here too. Made a right mess of that though..."
Morrissey.
Rowan tried to focus on the man's words, understand what was going on, but his thoughts drifted away like smoke.
Distantly, someone tugged on his shirt, lifting it up to his neck.
"Damn..." The voice was hushed with amazement, "You got some mean scars kid. No wonder you know how to fight."
The world lurched as he was rolled over and his shirt lifted again. Cool fingertips pressed against his shoulder blades, as Morrisey gave a slight sound of disbelief at the exit scars. Only when his shirt was pulled back down, and he was rolled back again, did he realize what the soldier was doing.
Morrissey was looking for the mark.
His jeans were tugged off next, and Rowan groaned, trying to cover himself as Morrissey quickly looked him over and rolled him again.
Cool hands grasped the foot where his ankle had been burned, and twisted it back and forth. A finger ran lightly over the area, then tapped it, twice.
"Where'd you get this burn?" Morrissey asked.
Rowan swallowed again, and tried to roll back, but Morrissey wouldn't release his foot.
"Boy, the burn, it's new, where'd it come from? Answer me."
"p-plane.." Rowan whispered. "fire.. m-metal.."
"Huh," Morrissey said quietly. Then the man released his foot, and rolling him back, quickly drew his jeans up again.
"You check out," he said, when he was through. "And you put up a good fight, kid. Things'll be better for you now, you'll see."
Then the man stood, turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.
Rowan sank away for a while, his body a wretched landscape of hurt, every breath piercing his stomach like a blade.
When he came back, someone was lifting him off the ground, sitting him up against something warm.
Held... he was being held. Something hard was pressed against his mouth, and a cold liquid lapped over his lips. Rowan took a sip of what turned out to be water, and slowly opened his eyes.
Joshua was holding him, his face drawn in worry, inches from his own.
"Je..sus," Rowan mumbled, and tried to twist away from the man, wanting nothing to do with him. The motion hurt like hell, and he stiffened, his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp.
And Joshua engulfed him in a sudden hug, cradling the back of his head. Rowan winced at the pressure, and tried to squirm away, but Joshua held him firm.
"Thank you," Joshua said quietly, "God.. thank you. Didn't mean to make it worse when I hit you, but you can't... you didn't know the rules... I'm sorry. Caleb didn't feel it though. You saved him from it... thank you."
The words washed over Rowan in a confusing wave, and he gave up fighting the man, then must have fallen unconscious again, because the next thing he knew, he was alone in the cell.
Thirsty as hell too, and his skull was pounding up a racket. Turning slightly to take in the room, he realized someone had tucked something under his head, an improvised pillow of some stiff fabric.
Just beyond his hand was a green plastic cup. Stretching to reach it, Rowan pulled it over and took a shaky sip. Felt good, and he quickly drained the rest, then dropped it aside and just laid there, trying to pull his mind together, work out how badly he was hurt.
Pretty bad. Above the pounding of his brain, and the tight, sharp stabbing in his gut, nausea was gripping him hard. Could be the hangover still, but might be a concussion. That wasn't good. He had to avoid falling under again, try to keep awake.
With a slow breath, Rowan tried to lift his head, and the room immediately went pitching back and forth. It just made him feel more sick, and he had to fight to keep the precious water he'd drunk down. Too dehydrated and concussed to let that go.
He looked up at the horrible, pale light flickering maddeningly above him, and sighed.
Being a punching bag sucked. Wasn't the first time someone had laid into him though, and was nowhere near as bad. Least the asshole hadn't hit him in the face. If it wasn't for the crack to the back of his skull, he would of held his own, and that bastard would be the one lying on the ground now.
God, this place was a madhouse. He needed to get Julie out of here. But how? Shooting their way out would just get them both killed.
Where was the hell was the Colonel? Why hadn't he found them yet? How many days had it been?!
He frowned. Wait.. didn't Joshua say.. something about... something buried...
Rowan blinked slowly.
Definitely concussed. Shit.
He closed his eyes, meaning to dig the memories up, but time slid out from underneath him, and when he opened his eyes again, there was someone standing above.
Samuel.
"Good," the man said, with the slightest smirk. His face had been cleaned of blood, but his nose and left eye socket were darkly bruised, almost purple.
As his eyes caught Samuel's, Rowan felt a surge of wild fear, and he quickly looked away. That was Caleb's reaction. Jesus, Caleb right under his skin... he couldn't do that right now...
The man crouched down beside him, and Rowan stared at the thin hard line of Samuel's mouth, at the deep gouges of wrinkles low on his jaw. They spoke of a lifetime of scowling, and Rowan had to avert his eyes completely as the fear swelled in a heavy wave again, laden with memories.
Jesus, not NOW...
"Got in some good blows Eric," the man said in a rough voice, "Guess I should believe you now about the Army?"
The man reached down and tugged his shirt up. Rowan reached up to pull it back down, but Samuel merely swatted his hand away. Then his eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Lord Almighty, Morrissey wasn't kidding," he muttered. "You been shot, Eric?"
Rowan said nothing, he was too busy trying to stay present, to not slide away as Caleb's fear worked to overwhelm him. What the hell had this man done to his kid?
"This a stab wound?" the man asked, and Rowan's skin shivered as the man's coarse finger slid down his chest, over the scar Julie had made so long ago.
At the touch, Caleb's fear rabbited inside of him, images flashed behind his eyes, memories leaking, and he grunted as his head, already crushed with pain, started to get worse.
Samuel let out a deep breath, and ran his rough hand down slowly, almost tenderly, over Rowan's bruised abdomen.
The touch made Caleb scream inside, and Rowan slowly started to understand. Struggling to keep it together, he reached up and sloppily pulled his shirt back down, pushing Samuel's hand away.
The man's brow dipped angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his lips thinned.
"Showed a lot of strength today boy," Samuel said quietly, "I respect that."
Thick fingers closed around Rowan's collar and he was pulled up, until he was face to face with Samuel.
Rowan groaned. Caleb was frantic with fear now, tearing away inside his skull. As Samuel leaned in close, Rowan's eyes, tightened to slits in pain, couldn't help but lock onto the soldier's.
"But don't ever think I don't own you," Samuel growled, his eyes livid. "You're mine. You're here because I allow it. You do what I want, when I need, you understand? My word is law, come straight from God, so when I say jump, you say 'off what?' - got it?!"
Those eyes held him fast, and Caleb's memories swallowed him whole, leaving him trembling as his head split wide open and the blood trickled warm and salty over his lips.
"D-dad... please..." he whispered, reaching for the man's arm, "p-please... don't hurt.. me."
Samuel jerked back as if stung, his brow drawing down hard. "What?!"
"M'so..rry..." Caleb whispered, drowning in his body's pain, as he tried to pull his father's hand from his collar. "Whatever did.. s-sorry... Dad... I des-deserve it... hurts... ev'thing hurts... why..."
"Boy, I don't know what kind of brain damage you got," Samuel growled. "But I am not your father."
Caleb winced up at him, lost and confused, thoughts scraping through his head like bricks. "S'me dad... 's Caleb... p-please... don' hurt me.. an-anymore.. can't.."
Samuel stood up so quickly he staggered back, his eyes as wide as plates, his mouth falling open.
"W-what?!" he stammered.
Caleb fell back, unable to stop himself, and his head hit the concrete floor through the stiff fabric. Everything started to pull away then, as if he was falling down a deep hole that had no bottom. His father, glaring down over him in shock, drew back, the flickering light and dull stained walls stretching away to an infinite point.
As he sank beyond everything, his father's voice came to him one more time. A roar of rage, and something he'd not heard before.
Fear.
"JOSHUA!"
—-
From here on in, things get a little more desperate, though there's a surprise reunion soon that's a little brighter. :) Thanks for reading, hope you'll stick with it to the end. ;)