Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Rehabilitation ❯ Conflict ( Chapter 9 )

AN: Thank you all for your wonderful comments and support. Sadly, it is true that I will only write one more chapter for this story (not including this one, of course). As of now, I have no plans for a sequel, but we’ll see what happens. For now, I’m only going to focus on my final chapters.

As for why I referred to myself in the first person, it was freaking three o’ clock in the morning. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am partially insane when I am sleep-deprived.

At this time I would like to apologize to fans of Ron. I love him, but his character is extremely difficult for me to write, so you won’t be seeing much of him anymore if at all. Sorry!

Enjoy.

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. They belong to the brilliant J. K. Rowling and Hiromu Arakawa-sensei. Macbeth was written by William Shakespeare.

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Rehabilitation

Chapter Nine

Conflict

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Edward absent-mindedly pet his kitten, Alphonse, as it lie on his lap, purring contentedly. It was a bit strange, having something so very small that depended upon him for its every need, but it was also very comforting. The little animal was able to give him a small bit of peace of mind, and it also gave him something healthy to work for. Indeed, Alphonse seemed to have a knack for rubbing against his owner’s legs, pleading to be picked up and cuddled, at the exact moments that the boy began to spiral once more into the depths of a deep-seeded guilt for the death of his younger brother. He reminded Edward that he was honoring the memory of the cat’s namesake, and as long as he continued to do this, even if everyone else had forgotten, Alphonse would still live. Despite this, however, the alchemist would be unable to truly come to terms with his loss until Scar had been caught.

At the moment, though, the destructive, vengeful man was tucked safely in the recesses of his mind, for he was pondering the mind-boggling existence that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He and the others from Amestris had been residents of the castle for three and a half weeks, and he had learned all he could about the so-called “magic” that was taught there. His first experiences with it had been less that enjoyable, and he had gleaned little information from them. As a man of science, Edward simply could not understand it. How could something that was able to break nearly every law of nature exist? How was it possible to completely ignore the law of equivalent exchange in such a radical manner? It was incomprehensible. He had tried to find the answer in the innumerable amount of books that the school’s library housed, but he had learned nothing from his research. He had begun to believe that he would never find his answer.

Still, he waited and watched, observing the students and teachers alike, and slowly began to piece together a thesis. Nearly every inhabitant of the castle, both students and a few of the staff, was incredibly and unbelievably naïve. The select few who were not exuded an aura that was stifling; it was as if they had been forcibly welcomed into the real world of troubles and tragedies in such a harsh manner that they were now overly cautious, never letting down their guard, never fully trusting anyone or anything. It was overwhelmingly familiar to such a degree that Edward had been searching his brain for a connection and finding nothing for days on end until he had realized the truth. It was the same aura with which he and his brother had been met nearly everywhere they traveled on their quest for the Philosopher’s Stone; it was the same aura that he had felt coming from the Isvaran refugees; it was the same aura the he himself had been afflicted with since his mother had died and even more so since that fateful night when he had seen the Gate.

But how was it possible for there to be no in-between? Even back home in Resembool, only young children were unaware of the harshness of the real world, but very few had been thrown into it like he and his brother had. It was a slow but inevitable process. Children would first gain an awareness from their parents, whether it be an overheard conversation or a worried presence. Once this was initialized they would continue to learn by paying closer attention, listening to the radio, taking notice of anything out of the ordinary. Eventually, the children would become adults, complete with a knowledge and understanding of what life really is. True, the same could be said of this new place, to an extent... but at the same time it was altogether different.

The most horrifying experience any of the students needed to deal with was a failing grade or a fight with a friend. Everyone was worried when the newspaper was delivered in the morning, and for good reason; from what Ed understood, this world was in the middle of a war. Still, though, once the precursory glance through the headlines was complete, the children continued on with their days as if nothing was wrong. He had a strong suspicion that none of them had ever had an experience with death or war before this recent development. Burglaries were rare, and any act of violence was practically nonexistent. They were living in a dreamland.

And suddenly he realized. No part of life is without equivalent exchange, not even magic. Perhaps this strange non-science did not come without sacrifice. The user is free to use his power for almost anything imaginable, but he loses something in return; he loses a piece of himself. For even though living unaware of danger and the evils of society may appear to be a blessing, harsh reality will eventually tear at one’s soul and steal a piece of innocence. It is true that no one is innocent forever, but there is traditionally a slow process that permits one to cling to his desperate believes for as long a period of time as possible. Ignorance may be bliss, but Edward knew from experience that one’s world can be shattered by the Truth. Magic creates a false sense of security for these people. It can heal wounds and cure illness, and it is powerful enough to keep crime to an unnoticeable minimum. But when one brick fall out of place, when something completely unexpected occurs, a person’s faith in the world is lost. Something is lost that can never be returned.

Now that he knew of the price, Edward could honestly say that he would never trade his alchemy for magic, even if it could have saved his limbs and prevented Al’s death. It could give a person his heart’s desire, but it required a great self-sacrifice that one would never even realize had been given. And Edward despised this world of magic. He hated the fact that many unsuspecting children would one day be thrust face-first into terrifying reality. He hated everything that it was, everything that it symbolized, and he was anxious to leave. For the time being, however, he could only watch and wait.

Edward sighed, and he felt Alphonse begin to purr even more loudly as he snuggled deeper into the boy’s lap in response. Currently, the two were neatly tucked away in the mezzanine of the library. The young alchemist had discovered this little room a week ago by pure coincidence as he was scanning the bookshelves in his perpetual research. It was small and circular with a low ceiling, and the walls were lined with books. In the center was a round table and a single chair, and there was only one entrance, suggesting that the hidden room was a personal study. Edward had been delighted at his discovery; after a heated conversation with Mustang, he had been allowed to stay inside alone while his escort stood guard at the door outside. He frowned, recalling that particular evening. It had been anything but pleasant. He had at first been denied, to which he responded by questioning their continual presence at the school and the need of an escort now that his limbs had been replaced. “We stay here until the fuhrer says otherwise,” Mustang had said. “Besides, you’re still not fully recovered.” Thankfully, though, the man had sensed that his subordinate needed some time to himself, and the room had been deemed safe after a thorough investigation and an interview of both the headmaster and the librarian.

Not fully recovered my ass, Edward thought. I’m perfectly fine. Perfectly fine and perfectly bored. Indeed, all of the Amestrians had grown accustomed to the same monotonous routine: Wake up. Eat breakfast. Wander the grounds. Eat lunch. Change guard. Research in library. Eat dinner. Change guard. Teach lesson. Research in library. Fall asleep in a book. Wake up. Fight with Mustang as he insinuates shortness. Get dragged into bed. It was tiring, doing the exact same thing every single day. Edward was a restless teenager, and he was used to traveling the country with his brother, never staying in the same place for more than a few days. He paused in his scratching of Alphonse’s ears (the tiny kitten let out a pitiful mewl of protest) in order to stifle a yawn, and the stillness of the room was suddenly broken by the opening of the door hidden amongst the shelves.

“Oh.” A girl no older than he with bushy brown hair stopped in the doorway. Edward could see Havoc and Hughes asleep on the floor behind her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.” She turned to leave, but he stopped her with a smile.

“It’s no problem,” he told her-- Hermione, he thought her name was, as he recognized her from his Alchemy classes. “You can come in, if you like.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she closed the door and joined him at the table, conjuring another chair out of thin air with a wave of her wand. “There’s just something comforting about being surrounded by books, don’t you agree?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, there is,” he said.

Without missing a beat she continued. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you, actually.” Edward raised a curious eyebrow, and she blushed for reasons unknown to him. “About my alchemy, I mean. I understand the principles and everything perfectly, but I just can’t seem to get it to work. Do you think I can get better?”

Undisputedly, Hermione was one of the best students in his class. As a Muggleborn-- the term for those with non magical parents, he had learned-- she was by far more knowledgeable and accepting of the scientific world than any others. She had been one of the last to complete a perfect circle, only managing to do it in the last to meetings, but she had come closer to an actual transmutation than those who had been attempting one for over a week. Edward told her this, and her blush deepened.

“What do you feel when you activate the transmutation circle?” he asked.

Hermione was somewhat confused. “Feel?” she questioned. “Well, I suppose a kind of- of a warmth, a stirring inside of me. What am I supposed to feel?”

The boy repeated the words he had spoken at his first lesson, the technicalities coming to him naturally. “When you activate a transmutation circle, you need to focus on breaking down and reconstructing your materials. Non living things can’t move on their own, though, so you need to use your own energy in order to do this.” Enthusiastic about the subject in which he was well versed, he began motioning wildly with his arms, trying to explain his point. “You need to take your energy and put it into the transmutation circle before continuing with the transmutation, or you won’t get anywhere. Also , you need to be careful to not put too little or too much energy into the circle. Too little will only deconstruct your materials, and you’ll end up with a pile of goop, while too much energy will cause the entire thing to explode in your face. Other than a flaw in the transmutation circle, that’s the most common reason for a failed transmutation.”

The girl frowned thoughtfully, though a confused look still remained on her countenance. “So I’m supposed to take my own energy and add it into the entire process, moving along the transmutation... But how do I do that?”

Edward paused, also frowning thoughtfully, searching his brain for a way to help he understand. After several moments passed as the witch grew less and less confident in herself, he finally spoke again. “What do you feel when you cast a spell?”

Comprehension dawned on her features, and she began rattling off words as easily as breathing. “I feel a bit of a draining of some sorts. That’s why you get tired whenever you cast a lot of spells, or even just one really powerful one. So when I cast a spell--”

“--You put your own energy into it to get it started, and the magic does the rest. It’s the same kind of thing with alchemy.”

“So,” Hermione continued excitedly, “so, if I focus like I do whenever I use magic, I should be able to feel my energy and move it into the transmutation circle, thereby giving myself a means to use in order to complete the transmutation! Oh, it’s so simple now! Thank you, Sir!” The girl jumped out of her seat, giving the boy a quick hug before catching herself. Both teens were blushing as she hastily pulled away.

“Oh, I- erm- I’m so sorry, Sir, I- I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.” Edward interrupted her stuttering apology, his face practically glowing the same color of his coat. “no harm done.” There was an uncomfortable silence for the next few minutes as both recomposed themselves.

“So,” Edward finally said, scratching his face (which was now a mere shade of light red), “what did you come here for, anyway?”

Hermione coughed, clearing her throat before answering. “Oh, no reason, really,” she said. “The same as you, I suppose. I like to come her for some peace and quiet every now and then, just to think and relax. It’s really such a cozy little place.”

“Yeah,” the boy agreed. “Yeah, it is.”

Fortunately for the pair, their embarrassment was interrupted by an upset Alphonse, who jumped onto the table between the two and yelled loudly. He was very irritated that his owner had been neglecting him in favor of his alchemy discussion. The girl, obviously a cat lover, cooed in delight. “Oh, he’s adorable,” she cried, scratching under the kitten’s chin and eliciting a contented purr from him. “Is he yours?”

Edward smiled gently, also reaching to stroke the small feline. “Yeah,” he said. The two prodigies, one of magic, one of alchemy, sat together pampering the spoiled kitten, it’s rumbling purr the only sound between them.

“My younger brother Alphonse,” the alchemist suddenly murmured, interrupting the peaceful moment, “was always bringing all sorts of stray cats home and begging to let him keep them, ever since we were little kids. He’d come running kinda funny and then I’d hear a meow, and he would get all panicky. I’d tell him we couldn’t keep it, and then he’d get offended and depressed and run off crying.” His eyes grew a wistful glaze as he was enveloped in his fond memories. “But we could never keep it, and we could only give it some food and the best shelter we could find before moving on.”

Hermione remained silent as the boy in front of her continued to pet his cat. It was the first time he had ever spoken about his brother. In fact, other than during lessons, this was the most that she had heard from him in the duration of his entire stay. Neither was certain how long it was that they quietly sat, enjoying one another’s company. Finally, the young witch spoke. “What’s his name?” she asked, motioning to the kitten stretched out on the table in a laughable position.

“Alphonse.”

There was another long, uncomfortable silence. Hermione shifted in her seat as she contemplated the words that she wanted to say. “You know,” she said, keeping her eyes focused solely on the cat, “I can’t say that I know exactly what it is that you’re going through, but I do know how it feels to lose someone close to you.” Edward raised his head and stared at her, but she did not look up. “My grandmother did a couple of years ago. We were very close, she and I; most people go to their parents when they have a problem, but I always went to her. She’d come to visit, and if I was sad or upset about something, she would say ‘Don’t sit around moping all day, or you’ll forget how to have fun!’ Then she’d take me out for ice cream or to the museum, and sometimes even to the amusement park. She knew me better than anyone. When she passed away, I locked myself in my bedroom for an entire week before my mother talked some sense into me. She told me that Nana wouldn’t want me to mope and that if I ever felt sad to remember all the happy time we had together. Talking about the past helps a lot, too. It’s like we’re doing it all over again. I still miss her, but I know that she’s always with me. Because as long as I remember her, she’ll still be alive in my heart.

“I know you must think me to be a hopeless romantic or a sentimental fool, and it’s not my place to say anything, but it really is the truth. And,” she paused, lifting her head and meeting his gaze with earnest faith, “I know that I don’t know anything about your brother, but I’m sure that he would want you to be happy, too.” Having finished her speech, Hermione began to blush, but she sat firm. “And besides,” she added, “They’re in Heaven now, and I’m sure that they’re watching over us both.”

Edward’s face grew sour at her final words, and he bit out a scathing remark. “That’s one person’s opinion,” he said. “When you’re dead, you’re dead. There’s no afterlife, and nothing can ever come back.”

The girl sat motionless for a moment, shocked, before pulling a cross form beneath her robes and beginning to play with it. “You’re not a believer, then?” she asked.

“I’m agnostic,” he replied. “I’ve seen and experienced too much of the Truth to believe in any kind of god that watches over and protects us. I suppose you are one, then?” he returned, waving at her cross.

Determined, she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It’s what kept me going these past few years. Even some witches and wizards are Christians, you know. I’ve seen and experienced too much to not be a believer.” Hermione stood, and she began walking towards the door. Before leaving their shared sanctuary, however, she stopped and spoke once more. “Like I said, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But in case you’re interested, you might talk to Harry Potter. He was in a similar situation this past summer, and I think you might have something to offer him, as well.”

As Edward watched the girl step over his still slumbering guard and enter the passageway that led back to the main library, he thought over the words she had imparted to him. A lot of it made sense, and it made him think a lot more about Harry Potter. He knew all about him from his research of the wizarding world, and he had to admit that their lives drew certain parallels. Both boys had no parents, and both were currently being chased by an insane mass murderer. Still, Edward was skeptical that he could be helped by the young wizard.

As he pondered these thoughts, he promised himself to never let Winry know that he had been alone in an enclosed room with a girl for such a long period of time, let alone that he had been hugged by her.

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Colonel Roy Mustang entered Professor Albus Dumbledore’s office, wondering what the headmaster wished to discuss. He had been given a summons by a passing student that afternoon requesting a meeting with him, and he had dutifully turned up several minutes in advance. Although Dumbledore could appear to be a harmless old fool, Mustang knew that behind the man’s facade of eccentricity lie a dangerously sharpened mind. When he was speaking, it was best to listen. The wizard was sitting behind his desk, having anticipated the military man’s early arrival. “Please,” he greeted, “have a seat.”

Mustang obligingly sat in a squishy armchair, politely refused any sweets before they could be offered to him, and kept at attention. “You wished to speak with me, Headmaster?”

“Now Roy,” Dumbledore admonished, “I have repeatedly asked you to please call me Albus. We are friends, are we not?”

The man opposite of him grinned a bit. “I suppose so,” he answered, “but old habits die hard. It’s imperative that one treads lightly and shows the utmost respect in the military.”

“Indeed, I suppose it is,” the elder agreed, chuckling. “In that case,” he continued, sobering his demeanor, “I believe that it is best if we discuss my reason for calling you here right away. You see, I must inform you of some information that has recently come to my attention. I believe it would not be prudent to keep you in the dark any longer, as it may endanger your subordinates.

“Several days ago, I was alerted that the wards around the edges of the Forbidden Forest had been breached, although not by any wizard. This is not uncommon, as some magical creatures who live in the forest will often come and go. However, the power of whatever had entered was startlingly high, and I vowed to keep a well-placed eye on any goings on inside of the forest, let the inhabitants of it or the castle be threatened. The forest is, of course, several miles deep, and as such, I did not raise any alarm, for it would take time for anything to reach the boarders.

“The very next day, the same thing occurred. Still, there was no immediate threat, and I felt best to merely observe from a distance for the time. However, shortly after these events, quite a disturbance was created. Trees have been felled, and many animals have been devoured by a mysterious predator, leaving only partially eaten remains. They have been steadily moving towards the castle, and I have placed barriers around the edges of the forest. I fear that something quite dangerous is approaching.”

As he finished his explanation, Dumbledore stared over his spectacles directly into his associate’s dark eyes. Mustang fought against a shiver as a sudden, unpleasant sensation traveled through his body. Then, he stood, saluted the headmaster, and bowed in thanks. “I appreciate you informing me of this situation. If you will excuse me, I really must be going now.” He left the office and descended the spiral stone staircase leading to the corridors, an ominous feeling clawing at the back of his mind.

Something wicked this way comes...

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Harry Potter stormed through the hallways, furious with his friend Hermione. She had rushed in to the Common Room, where he and Ron had been doing homework, and excitedly relayed to them her encounter with the mysterious Edward Elric. He was an enigma, and since the three had spent most of their time at Hogwarts solving different puzzles, they were naturally curious about him and eager to learn of anything new. He had been surprised and saddened to hear of Hermione’s depression when her grandmother died, but it was quickly replaced with anger when she finished her story. To say that he had been vastly displeased when he found out that Hermione had hinted about what had happened to Sirius to the alchemist was a gross understatement.

“What makes you think that I’d want to talk about Sirius to a complete stranger?” he had yelled at her. “You’ve no right to tell him anything!”

The girl had been somewhat hurt, but she had stood firm and said to him, “I thought that maybe it would help you if you spoke with him about it, since I believe that his brother died in a similar way!” She had then run into the girls’ dormitory in a huff, stomping on each stair.

Harry’s current rage was interrupted, however, by Colin Creevy. The still-tiny fifth year was walking towards him, camera in tow, although he had yet to notice his idol’s presence. Quickly, Harry ducked into a bathroom, not wanting to be attacked by his unofficial number one fan.

He stood at the taps for several minutes, waiting for the boy to pass, and he could feel his anger dissipating. He sighed, bringing a hand to tousle his already messy hair. Hermione was his friend, and she was only trying to help him. It wasn’t possible for him to stay upset with her for long.

Once again, though, his thoughts were disturbed, this time by none other than Edward Elric himself, the object of their argument. The two made eye contact for a few seconds, and Harry made a sudden decision based on impulse alone as the other began to walk away.

“Sir!”

The alchemist stopped, and he turned to once again face Harry. He stood silently, one eyebrow quirked, and Harry took that as a sign to continue. He licked his lips, not really knowing what to say, and began to speak.

“Er... How did your brother die?” Harry mentally smacked himself. Great going, Potter, he thought. Wonderful show of sensitivity there. What a brilliant way to start a conversation!

As expected, Major Elric did not appreciate his forwardness. “That’s none of your damn business!” he snapped, glaring daggers into the young man before him.

Harry flinched, and as Elric began to stalk away from him, he called out again. “My godfather,” he began, and he waited until he saw the boy stop before he finished his thought, “died back in June.” Neither moved, and there was a long pause before either said anything more. Just as Elric began to head towards the door again, Harry continued. “It was my fault,” he said, his words now rushing out of his mouth unchecked. “I was really stupid and fell into a trap, and he came to save me, and he was killed by a Death Eater.”

The two adolescents stood uncomfortably in the company of one another, neither moving forward. Harry began to believe that he had made a mistake and the other was going to leave without returning his confidence, but he was proven wrong. Without tearing his gaze away from the door before him, Elric muttered his story in a low voice. “A mass murderer was trying to kill me,” he said, “and my brother stepped in the way of his attack.”

He then stepped in the direction of the exit for a third time, and he was nearly through the door when Harry’s words gave him reason to pause. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Neither of us were to blame, not really. I mean, Sirius chose to come after me even though he was supposed to stay inside, and I may not have known your brother, but it was his decision to take the attack, wasn’t it? They both chose to--” Here, Harry needed to pause and clear his throat, for a lump of emotion had been steadily building-- “to sacrifice themselves in order to protect us, right? I know that I wouldn’t have been able to stop Sirius if I tried, and it would probably have been the same for you.”

He finished his speech, and a blush began to creep its way over his face. “I-- I just wanted to tell you that,” he said, turning away from the other even though he had his back turned. He did not move again until he had heard the door open and close and footsteps fading away as the entourage disappeared down the corridor.

Damn Hermione, he thought, and her stupid Know-It-All complex. Why does she always have to be right?

---

Edward’s thoughts were conflicting with one another that evening, thoroughly distracting his mind from his assigned task of educating his students in the ways of Alchemy. Luckily, he was highly skilled in his subject, as was proven by his position as a State Alchemist, and he needed little concentration in order to perform well. Unfortunately, two of his current students were the cause of the two clashing concepts. One of which, in fact, had completed her task of freezing water on the floor and was currently badgering him for his critique. She was interrupted, however, by the doors of the Great Hall being slammed open.

Professor Severus Snape glided eerily into the room with no regard to the lesson taking place, distaste and annoyance written on his face. They was another emotion, though, masked beneath the others, which both Edward and Colonel Mustang easily found: urgency. The potions master was shaken, and something was desperately wrong. “The headmaster needs to speak with you immediately, Mustang. He’s waiting for you in his office.”

The blue uniform clad officers exchanged a glance, and Mustang responded with a practiced calm. “I’ll be right there. You’ll need to stay here and guard Major Elric until I return.”

The professor was quick to protest. “Impossible. I myself have a potion to which needs attending lest a dangerous reaction occurs. I have informed Second Lieutenant Havoc and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes of the situation by way of the floo, and they are on their way as we speak. Elric will be fine on his own until they arrive. You must be on your way now.”

Concern etched into Mustang’s cool features, but it was quickly overridden by a sobered understanding. He nodded, and the two men left to venture to separate parts of the castle, Mustang giving Edward a look that clearly said “Be on your guard.”

The next hour passed with relative ease. Mustang had yet to return, and Havoc and Hughes had never arrived. Edward snorted at this thought. They probably got lost again. I wonder how many days it will take for them to turn up again this time. The evening was drawing to a close, and Edward was preparing to send the students to bed. He ordered them to clean up and return their materials, and the last bit of chalk had only just been replaced when the doors burst open once again.

This time, however, it was not a professor who entered, nor was it any part of Edward’s guard.

It was a walking suit of armor, echoing footsteps betraying its emptiness.

Edward’s heart skipped a beat.

“Big brother!” the armor cried as it ran across the floor to the small boy. Its voice was inexplicably young for such a large suit of armor.

Edward’s shocked expression quickly turned into a scowl, and he growled at his alleged younger brother. “You bastard!”

The armor froze, and its voice almost seemed to be weeping. “Brother? What’s wrong? What did I do?”

The other’s scowl deepened, and he began to charge at the armor, clapping his hands and transmuting his automail arm into his trademark short blade. “Don’t you ever,” he snarled, “take his form!” He swung recklessly at the metal, and the armor rapidly jumped backwards. Suddenly, it appeared to shift, almost like a transmutation. The metal disappeared to be replaced by a small body. The form had a sleek, slightly feminine shape to it, and it was difficult to determine its gender. Long, dark hair fell across its back in stiff spikes. The mouth curved upwards in a vicious smile, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth. It spoke in a slightly guttural, cocky tone, and Edward grew more infuriated with each word.

“Well, Fullmetal Pip-squeak,” it said, “I didn’t expect you to do that. You should be ashamed of yourself, attacking your brother like that!”

“You’re not my brother,” Edward retorted, his voice biting, “you damned homunculus!” He began to to charge once more, and the creature’s grin grew while the onlookers merely stood confused. “Damn you, Envy!”

---

AN: Oo! Cliffhanger! Heheh... Please don’t kill me. No authoress means no final chapter! So, what did you all think? Did anyone see this coming?

The final chapter should be posted much sooner than this one was, because not only has it been planned out since before I began writing this story (although I may end up changing it completely), but I graduated high school this afternoon, which means that I will have plenty of free time! Go me!

Now you’ve read, so please review. Happy authors make for happy endings!

-Sugarpony