There were fans above them.

Leon had been sitting, eyes fixed upward, for several minutes now, and that was the only thing that his mind had processed.

The ceiling was slanted, which likely meant fans had been stored over their heads, which likely meant the place had some sort of power generator, which likely meant the place had running electricity. That much had been obvious ever since the door had shut on its own accord, locking the two of them in there, but he had nonetheless made the connection on his own.

He felt…dizzy. Distant. Drunk with disbelief. Even Ashley's continual retching—which he thought would have ceased long before now, for Leon couldn't possibly see how she held so much in that tiny body of hers—did not phase him in the least.

His shirt and jeans were splattered with foul-smelling blood and substances he didn't want identified; in a moment of weakness he had forgotten the effect of cramming several nine-millimeter bullets into a rotting skull, and the result had been like watching his worst nightmare come to life after having finally assured himself that it couldn't touch him anymore.

One of the headless attackers lay inanimate at his feet, a burgundy puddle forming under the gaping hole of a neck. Entranced by the network of exposed tissue and veins, Leon didn't realize how nauseous the sight was making him until he tasted bile on the back of his tongue. In a slow, heavy effort he forced himself up, shaking his arm to try and get his fingers working again to grip the gun, and moved to where Ashley was kneeling over what looked like half her weight in vomit.

"This…this is what—" she swallowed, "—happened before? In Raccoon City…"

"Yeah." Ashley turned in his direction to look past his legs at the decaying bodies. There were tears in her eyes, but whether from fear, stress, pity, or getting sick, Leon couldn't say. Maybe all of the above. "Come on." One hand on her back, he used the other to take her arm and help her up onto shaky legs. "Careful…you got it?"

When she seemed capable of moving without him, he released her and stepped back, gazing at the room ahead. He had disposed of the ones that had come through, but as for how many could still be lurking, just out of sight…

Leon shoved another clip into his handgun. Against his better judgment but eager to calm his nerves, he tucked it back into the holster on his leg and unlatched the stolen shotgun from his belt. Its weight was comforting, as was the click of the shell moving from the magazine to the carrier as he brought back the pump. The echo died, and for the first time in a while his thoughts turned to the others.

They had both apparently been involved in an outbreak before, so at least they would know what they were dealing with. Plus, with the doors between the two groups barred, the only thing for Leon to do was focus on getting Ashley out safely. Once that was done, he would turn his attention to Rebecca and her teammate; and even if the S.T.A.R.S. members were low on pistol ammo, Coen had picked up those rifles, as well.

First things first, he decided. That phrase was beginning to grind his nerves.

During his contemplation, Ashley appeared to have gained a little strength. She was right at his shoulder—where he wanted her to be—and looking at her now, Leon wouldn't have guessed that she had just hurled up Detroit. Her face was grim, but resolute, and the expression she wore said that she was ready to go when he was. Seeing this swift change in her helped raise his courage, and Leon lifted the weapon to waist-height and moved through the yawning doorway before he could change his mind.

Although they had seen the light from the previous room, he was still surprised at the intensity of the fluorescent fixtures overhead. It was another long, steel, smooth hallway, but now with a number of doors on either side. He investigated the nearest of these, and finding it sealed and locked tight, moved on to the next.

At the very end stood a door set in what appeared to be solid iron. As much as he hated putting his back to the other entrances, Leon made his way steadily past them, footsteps echoing off the walls—

He stopped.

"Leon?" Ashley's voice also resonated, strangely loud compared to before.

The humming quit… "Something's not right," he said quietly. A dull rumble sounded above the ceiling, much louder than the humming had been. Leon was reaching behind for Ashley, about to tell her to head back, when half the lights suddenly cut off. He blinked, eyes stinging in the abrupt dimness, but kept his senses and managed to yell to her, "Go back, now!"

Anything else he might have said stood no chance against what happened next: somehow—everything went too fast for him to tell—the ceiling must have opened or burst, allowing hundreds—thousands—of gallons of water to surge down into the hall. The wave smashed into the floor with a force that nearly knocked them both off balance, and in seconds started towards them with a terrifying and deafening roar. Whipping around, Leon took in the distance between them and the way they had come and immediately knew it was no use; instead of running, he did what he figured was the only thing he could do at this point: seize Ashley and hold her against him in a shielding embrace, screening her as much as possible before the flood slammed into him like a brick wall.

He gasped at the impact, swallowing a choking amount of water. Even as he was lifted clear off his feet and thrown in who knew what direction, he kept his hold on her and the shotgun, despite when the latter lurched back and struck just above his right eye. Within seconds they had surfaced again, but now all visibility was gone. Vainly Leon reached out for a hold, shifting the gun to the hand around Ashley's waist, and was rewarded with a sharp pain as his forehead connected with what he guessed was a wall. His nails scratched tile.

At last, something caught his wrist and brought them to an abrupt stop, nearly wrenching his arm from his socket. He quickly wrapped his fingers around it and held on as the water continued to tug at them forcefully, crashing about his shoulders and more than once almost tearing Ashley out of his arms. His muscles stretched and screamed and burned under the effort to maintain his grip, and just when he thought one of his arms was about to give, the storming waters began to slow.

Still weighted down, this was a source of little relief, but after a minute he noticed that the water was gradually receding. Pitch-blackness still pressed on his eyes, however, and so once they were clear from the waist up, he cleared his throat and asked,

"Ashley?"

He could tell that her head rested against the top of his arm, and when she didn't respond or move, his heartbeat doubled; but then, hoarsely:

"Yeah."

"I should have a flashlight on my belt, the left side. Right for you."

" 'Kay…"

Of all the places and times to get embarrassed over stupid little things that normally didn't bother him, it had to be while hanging from a wall in the dark, soaked to the bone, and resisting the urge to gag at the foul smell of decay. A delicate hand made its way down his side, groping cautiously and respectfully here and there until it reached his belt. By then, Leon was fully aware of every place that her fingertips had touched: each dime-sized spot seemed to warm the skin that the water had previously chilled.

His gratitude towards the darkness increased when the words "There, I got it" flowed onto his neck along with her hot breath. Then the small bulb was lit and they were both wincing against the low light, and his unease was swiftly replaced with a sort of disappointment. Soon even that was forgotten when he realized where they were.

The waters had actually lifted the pair up to the ceiling, and the thing he had grabbed onto was in fact a wire protruding from one of the light fixtures. He thanked his lucky stars then and there that the electricity had cut off beforehand.

It was not long before the water drained almost completely from the room through some drain or another, and within minutes Leon and Ashley were back on solid ground, albeit ankle-deep in cold liquid. He had taken the flashlight once again and now shined it down the hall to determine where they had come from.

"There," he announced, and nodded towards the iron door he had seen before. "Let's go." They started towards it, and no sooner had they taken a few steps did Ashley cry out, a splash announcing her stumble. He caught her elbow in an instant, but then swore aloud when the small circle of light fell on the object responsible at her feet.

Mutilated almost beyond recognition was another corpse, its putrid flesh bloated and flaking. Its clothes were rotted to the point of incomprehensibility, making it impossible to determine if it was a villager or someone else. Cautiously Leon prodded its shoulder with his shoe, and although it gave no sign of animation, his breath cut sharply through his throat when a moan sounded behind them.

He whipped around and directed the light towards the source to find another zombie lying stomach-down in the water, milk-white eyes fixed on him as it dragged itself wetly forward. At this he relaxed, but then tensed up once more as a similar noise erupted on their right.

There it was again, now on their left—again, the right, now farther off—now closer—

Son of a— Cold fingers brushed his bicep and he retreated, tugging Ashley along with him. "Go, go!" Water sloshed beneath them as they waded hurriedly through the water, her starting violently whenever another zombie made itself known, at times dangerously close. Together they reached the end of the hall, the final door, and Leon cursed again as his flashlight revealed a set of heavy locks. No kick of his could do much damage to a padlock that thick; and shooting it would likely only result in killing one or both of them with the ricochet.

For a horrifying second Leon's mind went blank, unsure of what to do next. The slow, steady treading of water behind them, however, brought him back to reality, and he darted past Ashley to catch the nearest doorknob and twist.

Surprisingly, it opened. No time was wasted in ushering her inside, and he practically fell on top of her as he hastened to follow and slam the door shut again.

At first there was only more darkness, but then a click about a foot off and light poured over them both. They were in what appeared to be a storage closet: cardboard boxes littered the cracked floor, some piling as high as the top of his head. Ashley stood in the middle of the room, clutching a chain under the single bare bulb that hung from the low ceiling. Not a zombie in sight.

"A little too close," he muttered, more to get his sense of control back than anything.

Leon put away his light and bent over to investigate some of the cartons, all of which, he had noticed right away, were dry. A glance towards the entrance affirmed that the door and its frame were all but seamless, leaving no room for the recent flood to enter.

Much to his disappointment, most of the boxes contained nothing more than stacks of work papers. On a good day, they might have at least provided some information on just what he and Ashley were dealing with. As luck would have it, there was nothing but complicated-looking formulas and charts on everything he examined, and wherever there were words, he could only pronounce about a tenth of what he found.

"Water, carbon," he read aloud; "ammonia, lime, phosphorous—" The list continued, but he ceased the attempt and turned his eyes to where Ashley was conducting her own investigation. "Anything?"

"No. Nothing in English, anyway." She stood and proceeded to wring her hair out; he chose to delve a little further. Many of the papers were just like the others—confusing codes and what he thought looked like chemistry homework gone to hell—but after moving on to another box, Leon found something new.

A rough black and white outline of the human body was nothing particularly special, especially considering this was some type of scientific or medical facility and something like that was almost expected. Still—the abandoned building, the appearance of zombies, the evidence of some sort of research…

"Ashley."

"Hmm?"

Leon climbed back to his feet as he snapped open the shotgun and dumped out the residing shells. Using rolls and bits of paper, he disassembled and dried the gun's main pieces, talking all the while.

"That big door's probably the one we're headed for. I'm gonna take a look inside these other rooms to try and find anything that can help us get through it." He saw her shift when he used the pronoun I, and partly hoped she might voice her opinion on his going alone. When she didn't, he avoided her eyes by patiently putting the shotgun back together, drawing out more shells—extremely thankful for the waterproof pack he kept on his belt—and loading them leisurely. That done, he met her gaze and found that he decided almost immediately: it was probably safer to leave her there, but there was a fear in her eyes that he couldn't help feeling for. Adding to it was the knowledge that he wished to clear out as soon as possible, and that would go a lot swifter if they stuck together.

He fastened the shotgun to his waist and started on the Beretta. "If you don't feel like being dragged around, you can stay here, but it'd probably go faster if we stuck together."

Being given an option like this was not something she was used to—at least, not from him, he was sure. Why Leon even took the time to let her choose, he couldn't say exactly. For one thing, she wasn't the same girl she was the first time around, and she had definitely matured since then.

And if an occasion arose when he was no longer around to make the decisions for her, Ashley needed to be ready for that.

Guilt might have also prompted him to act thus. It shamed him to admit it, but he knew the true cause behind the thoughts and feelings that had flitted across his mind moments ago at her touch. There in the wet dark, holding her to him, Leon had, for an instant, been back in the sewers of Raccoon City. A similar instance had occurred back then, and he had held another to him in the same manner.

In truth, his sudden embarrassment had had nothing to do with Ashley at all. Unable to see her, he had been imagining that it was Ada in his arms; with it came the essence of his being nothing more than a crushing rookie, barely old enough to be called an adult.

Even if he had never been anything other than a guard or a friend to Ashley, Leon was a decent enough man to know that picturing another woman in her stead and allowing it to affect him that way was dead, dead wrong. He was humiliated, flustered, and, above all, angry with himself.

In the end Ashley didn't hesitate to consent in going along with him, and after a few more minutes' rest they prepared to head out again. Pausing at the door, he was painfully conscious of where she briefly gripped his arm for reassurance, but for a different reason than before.

Now, all he could think about was how quickly her touch had lost its appeal.

:xXxXx:

What seemed like hours later, Leon and Ashley tumbled back into the wet hall. Not bothering to shut the door, they ran full speed for the end of the corridor, him clutching the pistol in one hand and a ring of keys in the other. Past the never-ending moans and dead footsteps they flew, too aware of the consequences of falling to be in danger of slipping.

Hitting the barred door, Leon selected the first key and shoved it into the lock. Fortunately, it fit easily, and a second later gave off a relieving click. Ashley pressed at his back as he started on the next lock, undoubtedly watching their enemies.

No good…

Next key.

His forehead was still aching like a—

No good…

Next key.

"Leon…!"

Bingo!

The second lock clicked, gave way, and fell to the floor at their feet. Before it hit the ground Leon had thrust the door open and pulled Ashley inside with him. He slammed it to behind them with his foot and straightened his gun arm out, sweeping the area, and then lowered it.

They were in a room about four feet long and ten feet wide; on either side, bare walls and floor. In front of them was another iron door, but with no locks or handle to be seen. Next to it at about chest height, a flat-screened panel glowed a dull blue.

Shifting his gun to his left hand, Leon ran his fingers over the door's edges, top to bottom, for a catch. Nothing. He tossed an untrusting glance at the screen, glimpsed back at Ashley, and then went back to the screen. Finger on the trigger, he raised his free hand and pressed his palm to the static surface, which he found to be surprisingly warm.

Nothing happened.

Undaunted, Leon holstered the pistol and this time raised both hands, having noted that the screen was wide enough for two, and tried again. His heart raced when a single white line appeared under his fingers and traced over them like a scanner, but again to no avail.

He smothered a curse with a sigh.

"Maybe if we both try," Ashley suggested, voice tired but hopeful. She stepped up beside him and reached out with her right hand, placing it on the screen, and Leon mimicked her move. Once more the scanner activated; but when it disappeared there was a low beep and a hum, and with a sound like a Tupperware container being opened, the two halves of the door slid apart.

Guess this place isn't so dead, after all.

A wave of cold air greeted them, strong enough to blow the hair from their faces, but it ended as fast as it began. Leon stepped through first, gun poised, and wrinkled his nose at the stench that followed. It was not the gut-gripping reek of the undead, thankfully; there was some of that mixed in, but very little—it was chlorine, primarily. Iodine. The smell of a hospital hallway. There was blood, too, and something else that brought back memories of when he was seven years old, maybe eight, and washing his enormous golden retriever in the backyard.

God, please don't tell me they also threw in a couple mutated dogs.

A little while later, he would find that God had a sense of humor.

It was a laboratory. The remains of one, at least. Translucent glass tubes like something he had seen in a science fiction movie rose up on either side as he went in, most of them cracked and broken. Those still intact were filled to the top with dense green liquid, inside of which he distinguished crumpled shapes, many looking unnervingly human. Overturned tables and scattered lab tools littered the room. Overall, it wasn't that large, but it still took a little effort to find the door leading out. Leon and Ashley hurried through, sensing the other's unease in that silent place.

:xXxXx:

Growing up, Ashley never had a particular fear of needles.

She refused to let apprehension stop her from getting her ears pierced, or buying the tattoo she had yet to get. For years she had taken pride in her courage.

Not until she returned from Spain did her immunity evaporate with the beginning of the nightmares. The obvious things were most abundant: chainsaw-wielding freaks, flesh-eating dogs, parasitic insects eating her alive. Leon dying. But when these calmed down, the dreams had taken a different turn, and she was often awoken by her own screaming at the memories of metal walls and cold chairs. These were only flashes, but they would always end with an invisible monster forcing a syringe into some part of her. She never saw what happened next, although she had an idea.

So it was that Ashley almost sighed with relief once she and Leon were out of the laboratory. The pitch-black room that greeted them soon afterward, however, quickly coated her spirit in dread again.

She couldn't see any walls in the darkness, but there was some hope at the sight of three enormous lights far overhead, evenly spaced for a few hundred feet. Although this gave them some idea of the ceiling's whereabouts, the yellow shafts of light that rained down were too narrow to illuminate anything but the floor. Not even Leon's flashlight helped; it did nothing more than show them a white floor that, in more than one place, was streaked with something dark.

Their shoes squeaked loudly, the same way they would on a gymnasium floor. As soon as this thought passed through her mind, Ashley realized: judging from the range of echoes they produced, it sounded like the room could easily be the size of a gym, maybe larger. To the right, evenly spaced fwooms issued forth with a light breeze.

Then two sounds reached her: one was a deep, guttural growl behind her. The other was the click of Leon's gun. Afraid to look back, she tilted her head, trying to see around Leon's shoulder to his face, and nearly yelped when she caught sight of what had triggered his response.

It stood just outside the nearest circle of light, half-covered by shadows, but she could make out a distinctly catlike figure. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Ashley saw that it was pale in color; patches of its short fur were missing to reveal red, scabbed skin underneath. A long tail swished between its hindmost legs, bent at an odd angle about halfway down. In the reflection of the light, its eyes had a filmy look that was fixed unblinking on the newcomers.

A cougar, most likely; maybe even a lion—lioness, she corrected herself. Whichever of the two, another one was approaching on their left, visible only by the shine of its yellow gaze. The same growl from before sounded, and Ashley managed to seize Leon's sleeve in a cold hand.

"Leon…"

He only nodded. "How many?" He was quiet, calm. Some of her nerve returned and she glanced back, and then drew closer to him all the same.

"Two that I can see."

One of the cats in front gave an abrupt burst of a roar, sending Ashley's heart into her throat and hands to her ears. When her head had stopped ringing, she heard Leon in a low voice:

"—Any sudden movements. Try and follow me."

" 'Kay."

The cats continued to press in, four in all, at times lashing out but never directly attacking. Leon worked at keeping his gun fixed between two of them while simultaneously keeping an eye on the others and doing his best to shield and direct Ashley. Her heart was beating wildly, and when one of the cats leapt at them from the side, she felt it stop completely.

Leon turned and shot, not pausing to take aim, and the animal took the bullet below its neck. It hit the hard floor with a heavy, wet-sounding thump and didn't move.

Standing there in the dark—damp, sore, tired, partly blinded, and scared—Ashley couldn't keep track of all that was happening. She knew that at least two of the cats were dead, but it looked like more had appeared to make up for them. At one point, she cried out when something caught hold of her boot, and in an instant Leon had directed his gun over his shoulder to fire at it. The blast exploded next to her face, killing her ears and leaving an echo in her head, but she forgot her pain when she felt her leg freed.

There was a muffled click and he yelled something, and then without warning Ashley felt him push her away as one of the cats leapt between them, so close that its coarse fur brushed against her arm. She hit the floor with her hands and scrambled back to her feet, looking back.

Silhouettes danced before the cones of yellow light, intertwined with gunfire and enraged growls. Leon's shape seemed to be the fastest, a blast here and there igniting features that were too far away for her to distinguish. Even so, Ashley knew the expression he was wearing: eyes narrowed and lips only just parted, his face would be dominated by a sort of stern, stoic look that only gave way to an occasional glimpse of irritation or alarm, both of which were only displayed either when he was hit or when an enemy had acquired a clear path to the one he was protecting.

She had seen it enough two years ago to call it to mind even now.

Reaching towards the wall for support, she quickly drew away and smothered a yell when she felt movement by her fingertips. She almost gave a nervous laugh after turning and realizing that she had nearly stuck her hand into the blades of an enormous fan, one of what she estimated was two or three in all; it was about twice her height and moving at a moderate speed, enough to create a low wind that she hadn't noticed before now—and enough to easily cut through bone, give or take a few hits.

Whatever sickened humor she had at this dissipated at a low snarl. Slowly Ashley turned, backing up dangerously close to the forgotten, whirling blades. One of the cats was less than a yard away—at least, she figured it was one of them, except that she could only perceive one eye glowing, and the light in it was dulled so much that it was difficult to see.

Leon…where's…

Suddenly she remembered the dreams, the ones about the white walls and men in black robes and cold chairs and the smell of something dying—

Ashley wanted to turn her head to look for Leon, but that one yellow eye seemed to hold her, hypnotized. She could almost swear she saw the nightmares, playing like a film reel, in the depths of that filmy eye…

The animal jumped. Hardly a second before it did, it blinked, and Ashley started as if from sleep.

"Move!" She meant to say it mentally, but luckily, this had a greater effect.

Her legs stiffly turned left and shoved off, sending her out of the cat's path in a clumsy dodge. Pain ripped across her right shoulder blade. She landed on her side, hard enough to know that she would definitely bruise, but then a grinding noise erupted from nearby and diverted her attention. A screech was heard over the crushing and twisting of bone, and then was gone.

Resting her head against the cold floor, Ashley exhaled through her nose as her back continued to throb.

Footsteps, running.

"Ashley!" More footsteps.

Warm arms were around her, pulling her into a sitting position, and she was looking into Leon's concerned face. "You okay?"

She nodded, but the motion pulled at the skin on her back and she gasped.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, you're hurt." Annoyance temporarily overcame her pain and she thought, no, duh, but his worried expression did away with it. "There's an exit on the other side," he was saying, already helping her up. "It opened up a minute ago. Come on—we're almost there."

:xXxXx:

Any embarrassment Ashley might have felt was overridden by pain. She clutched the flannel shirt around her torso, staring down at the bloodstained undershirt in her lap, and winced again as fingers—rough in texture but softened with a gentleness that didn't go unnoticed—prodded and poked at her wounded shoulder.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to make sure there's nothing unusual about it. It doesn't seem to be infected, though…" Leon trailed off; infected with what, she didn't know and didn't ask. Grass and leaves crunched under her weight as she shifted on her numb tailbone.

They were outside, the building at their backs along with the exit he had found. Although no further enemies had intercepted them, the peaceful woods that surrounded them seemed only an illusory façade, a cover for whoever or whatever could be watching. Still, the late afternoon sun felt good on Ashley's bare shoulders and even did a little to help soothe the burn of her injury.

"We should have Rebecca check it," Leon went on, "but for now some antiseptic will have to hold over."

"Yay," she muttered sarcastically.

She heard the smile in his voice. "One, two—"

A new blanket of pain swept over the cut like several hundred needles. Gripping her knees, Ashley released the shirt and her cover fell away, but she was too busy swallowing back a variety of curses to care. So what if he saw her in her bra? He'd probably forget in five minutes, anyway.

Once the acid had given way to semi-boiling water, she said through her teeth, "Nice trick. The guy who pierced my ears did the same thing."

A "hmph" of playfulness. "Where do you think I got the idea?"

At that, she had to throw a glance over her shoulder. "And why were you at a body piercing parlor?"

Leon met her eyes, smile still in place. She noticed a dark bruise above his eyebrow. "A friend of mine had me go with her."

Pausing to turn back around, she asked, "The same girl you met in Raccoon City?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Woman's intuition."

"Heh. Right." She was surprised to feel him pull her right bra strap back up over her arm. Whether he was even aware, she couldn't tell, but when she looked at him, he had turned away, allowing her time to dress. She did so and, standing, saw that his gaze was fixed on the door they had come through.

Guilt, mixed with a reasonable amount of helplessness, clawed at her side and she lowered her eyes. He wants to go help them, but doesn't want to make me go back…Ashley looked around. They were, as far as she could see, alone, and she guessed that there were still a few hours of daylight left. Exhaling sharply again, she stomped her foot.

"Leon."

He turned back to her. "Yeah?"

"There's…there's something I've been meaning to say—I probably should have said it before now." It took a little effort to pry her eyes from his shoes and lift them to his face. "…I've seen how hard you work to protect me, and…but I also know how hard it is for you sometimes," she said hurriedly. His bandaged bicep caught her stare. "I appreciate everything you've done, but…but I'm not your responsibility anymore."

There, I said it.

As for Leon, he said nothing, but bore the same look he had had since she'd begun.

"You're not my bodyguard," she went on, feeling what confidence she had wavering. "Not now, anyway. I don't want to get in your way when I'm not—"

The smile on his lips cut her off. A blush was rising in her neck when he shook his head.

"I haven't considered myself on-duty since I landed in Washington." Ashley nearly started, and Leon's tone became more serious. "Don't think I see you as some kinda weight that I'm dragging around. I'm looking out for you because I don't want to see anything happen to you."

Wow. That was pretty deep for him.

Perhaps he noticed it, too; his smile back in place, he turned his palms upward and shrugged. "That's what friends do, right?"

Her embarrassment was evaporating. "Yeah."

Right. Friends.

"Then you should go after them," she blurted. "If you want to. I can stay here."

As predicted, Leon didn't hide that she had read his thoughts. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine." Hesitating, he looked away, paused, and then lifted his head as if remembering something.

"When I get back, remind me."

"To what?"

"To…" He faltered for a nanosecond. "Give you something."

"What?" But he was already heading towards the door. He stopped after opening it and looked at her.

"I'll be back. Stay here."

"Right." Ashley shifted. "Be careful, Leon."

He tossed her another smile, turned, and disappeared.

:xXxXx:

Author's note: ...WOW, that was an obnoxiously large break between updates. I apologize three times over to you all for that, but now that the summer's here, I'll work my best to make sure it doesn't happen again.

And now I'm going to turn around and ask for a favor. I know some of my readers discovered this story through the May 2006 issue of the Official PS2 UK Magazine, which provided an excerpt from Chapter 1 in a fanfiction feature. This was done after the article's writer contacted me and asked permission, and he promised to send me a free copy when it was done. Well, that was a few months ago, and I haven't heard from him since, so I'm starting to think he won't uphold his end of the bargain. (OMG LAWSUIT FOR BREACH OF CONTRACT WITH A MINOR!oneone)

So, the favor I'm asking is: if any of you have a copy of that issue and would be kind enough to provide me with a scan of the page that my excerpt is on, I would owe you big time and appreciate it deeply. Thanks.