Never Let Go

"Stella," Mac calls, motioning her toward his office. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," she replies, wondering what she had done wrong in order to earn herself a conversation with her boss. What's up?"

He silently hands her a sheet of paper before sitting down behind his desk. After taking the sheet from him, she holds his gaze as she sits; only when seated does she look at the paper in her hand, expecting something bad. Not believing what she has read when she reaches the bottom of the page, she reads it again, sure her eyes are playing tricks on her.

"So?" he asks when five full minutes pass without her speaking.

"They're bringing the troops home?"

He nods, "And they would like me to give a speech."

"I think you should do it, Mac. I'll watch the lab; you won't have anything to worry about."

"Actually… I was kind of hoping that you'd… come with me. I'll pay for everything: your dress, plane tickets, another hotel room, and whatever else you need."

"No, you don't have to do all that, Mac. It's… not necessary."

"Oh… well… I guess I can invite someone else…"

Stella looks from the paper in her hands to his eyes, "I didn't mean that it wasn't necessary because I didn't want to come. Just… you don't have to pay for everything; I'm willing to pay for myself."

"So… you'll go?"

"Of course."

"…Thanks," he says, not sure what else he should do.

"Thanks for inviting me. So when is it?" her gaze returns to the paper in her hand.

"The weekend of fourth of July."

"Two weeks… kind of short notice. Are you going to be able to write your speech by then?"

He shrugs, "I've never written a speech before. Well, not since I was in school."

"You're wearing your uniform, right?"

He nods slowly, "Why?"

"Just wondering what I have to work with when I go shopping for a dress."

"I like green… It… it brings out your eyes."

Blushing, she replies, "But green doesn't go with your uniform."

"Then don't listen to what I suggest…" Mac says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. A moment later he is handing her a stack of money.

Frowning, she takes it and counts. "Five hundred dollar, Mac? I don't need that."

"Please, just take it. You've done so much for me, and I've never properly thanked you."

She sighs and reaches across his desk to hand part of the stack back to him, "Okay, I'll take money for the dress."

"And the shoes. And any other accessories you may need," he instructs.

"Fine," she takes another hundred dollars from the pile, returning only two hundred to him.

"Are you sure you don't need it?"

"Yes. Besides, why on earth are you walking around with five hundred dollars in your wallet?"

"I… To give to you… for the dress. I took it out this morning."

She shakes her head, "Don't carry that much money with you, Mac."

He ignores her, "I'll make reservations for the plane and hotel tonight."

"We don't really need separate rooms, Mac. I mean, we're both mature adults, and we can handle staying in the same room. And most rooms have two beds anyway so there's no need to spend more for two rooms."

"You're sure you're okay with that?"


"Okay, one room it is."

Danny knocks on the door, "Hey, Stel, I got a hit. You'll want to see it."

"Call Don. I'll be out in five minutes," she instructs.

Mac watches Danny go, thoughtful. "I guess he's in charge for a few days."

"He did fine while we were in Greece; I'm sure the lab will still be here when we come back."

"Hopefully," the boss looks around at his office, wondering if it will still be intact when he returns.

Stella stands up, "I should get back to work."


"Don't forget to start writing your speech," she kisses his forehead before she leaves his office. "It won't do you any good to stay up writing it the night before you have to give it."


Mac takes Stella's bag out of her hands, "I was certain you were going to punch that guy."

She smiles as they make their way to the baggage claim in the Washington DC airport, "It was very tempting."

"He did deserve it," he admits, referring to the man that had sat in between them during the flight. "Those comments he made were a little… rude."

"A little? Can we upgrade to first class for the ride home, Mac? Please? I'll pay for it."

"Stel, it's only an hour flight. We can't possibly be put by someone so disgusting again."

"There's a lot of disgusting people in the world… I think you of all people would know that."

He grabs their luggage from the belt as it goes by. He looks down at the two bags next to her feet, not sure how he is going to carry them all. "Stella, can you…?"

"I can carry my own bags, Mac," she reaches out to take her luggage from him, but he refuses to let her have it.

"Just carry those two; they're lighter."

Sighing, she picks up the bags from the floor. "So what exactly are our plans for the evening?"

"Check into the hotel… dinner somewhere… then there's the little party thing later in the hotel's lobby."

"So all of the marines are in the same hotel?"

"Yeah," he helps the taxi driver put their bags in the trunk and gives him the hotel address before sliding into the car next to her.

"And tomorrow?"

"The ceremony is at two, then dinner, and some kind of party afterward."

"You marines really like to party."

"Yeah… Marines like to drink a lot so… don't be surprised… if… Well, you're a beautiful woman, and it's probably been a while because they've been overseas so those that didn't leave someone behind might…"

"Don't worry about me, Mac. I have a date already."

"Thanks. I mean, you're welcome to… if you want to… They're probably more attractive than I am and younger. So… don't feel obligated to stay by me the whole night…"

"Mac, I'm not going to go off with some guy I just met."

He nods, knowing that that wasn't her. "Well, we're here."

They both get out, and Mac pays the cab driver before picking up their luggage again. Stella opens the door for him, and they enter the hotel. The lobby is already decorated for the evening's activities, and the couple looks around as they approach the counter. "Taylor," Mac tells the man behind the desk.

While Mac is getting the keys to their room, Stella wanders around the lobby. She is drawn to a table across the room where a display honoring the fallen soldiers is set up. He wanders up behind her as she studies it, keys in hand. "How do they do it?" she asks after a moment.

Mac pauses, "Do what?"

"Leave their families. I don't even have a family, and I can't understand how they do it. And why in the world would anyone let their child join the military, knowing that there is a good chance they'll never see him again?" she turns to face him.

"Someone has to defend our country."

Slowly she nods, "I guess. Mac… I'm really glad that you came back… even though I didn't know you then. I just… can't imagine my life without you."

"Me too," he gives her a small smile.

She wraps her arms around him, and he awkwardly puts his arms around her with the luggage in his hands. "Sorry," Stella suddenly says, pulling back from him. "I…"

"It's okay. Why don't we go up to our room?" he hands her a key.

"Okay," she takes one of the bags from him and heads to the elevator. A couple minutes later they are standing outside their room on the tenth floor. She opens the door, and they step inside, her holding the door for him.

He freezes in the doorway, "Um…"

"What?" she peers over his shoulder. He steps further inside so she can see. "Oh…"

"I'll go down and see what they can do about it," he offers. As he leaves, Stella sits down on the single bed in the room and waits.

Ten minutes later her boss returns, not too optimistic looking. "They don't have any rooms available so we can't switch or get a second one so we're not…"

"It's okay," she takes a deep breath. "We can deal with it. It's only two nights."

He studies her, "You're sure? We can go to another hotel."

"No, everyone else is here. Plus you won't get your discount if we go somewhere else."

"This won't bother you? I can sleep on the floor or… something…"

"No," she repeats. "We're just two friends… in an inconvenient situation. Nothing more. We'll just… stay on different sides of the bed."

He nods, "We'll be fine. Now… how about we get dinner before the party?"


Mac rests his hand on Stella's back when he notices many of the young men looking at her. "Can I get you another drink?" he offers, taking her empty champagne glass from her hand.

"Maybe one more…" she says.

"I'll be back in a moment. Don't sneak off anywhere," he whispers with a smile.

She watches him walk away, and when she turns back to where he was standing a moment ago, another man has taken his place. "Hello," the marine smiles, reaching his hand out to shake hers. "Kyle McDermott."

"Stella Bonasera," she shakes his hand, surprised when he brings her hand to his lips.

"I couldn't help but notice you across the room. You're much more pleasant to look at than these guys. I, uh, see that you're not married; that's very hard to believe."

"I… You're very charming but… I…"

"You're not interested? Does that have anything to do with your companion?"

"No… he's just my boss."

"Oh… I see…"

"No, we're really not together. Just friends… fifteen years."

"He was a marine?"

She nods, "Fought in Beirut."

"Here you go," Mac returns, handing her another glass before turning to her new companion. "Hello, Mac Taylor."

"Kyle McDermott. So you're here for the ceremony tomorrow?"

"They asked me to give a speech."

The three talk for a half hour, until they notice the crowd in the lobby start to dissipate. "Well," Mac checks his watch, "It's after eleven. We should probably head up and rest for tomorrow." The two detectives shake hands with Kyle before heading to the elevator.

Once inside their room, Stella sits down on the bed and yawns. "What time do we have to get up tomorrow?"

"Sometime before noon."

"I think I can manage that," she says, lying back on the bed.

Mac pulls his suitcase onto the bed in order to get out his pajamas. He hears a moan and looks at Stella, whose eyes open wide at the sound. She sits up and listens for a moment until they hear it again. Their eyes meet. "How about we take a walk?" he suggests, hoping to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation.

"Yeah," she says, hurriedly standing and slipping her feet back into her shoes.

They two leave the hotel room and make their way out onto the street. "So…where to?" he asks.

She shivers, "How far away is the White House?"

"A few miles."

"The memorials?"

"Too far to walk at eleven-thirty without something happening."

"Then where can we go to get away from…?"

"Come on, let's wait in the lobby; it's too cold for you to be out here in that dress," he escorts her back inside, and they sit on one of the couches.

"So… I guess Danny hasn't blown up the lab yet…"


"Got your speech written?"

He nods, "More or less."

"Mac, you better be ready tomorrow. You don't want to make a fool of yourself in front of all those people."

"I won't," he says, his voice less confident than normal.

"Do you want me to look at what you have so far?"

"No." She is taken aback by the harshness of his voice and falls silent. Surprised by her silence, Mac debates whether or not he should let her read what he had, give her some kind of warning about he was going to say. Maybe then he wouldn't be so nervous about whether or not he was going to make a fool of himself in front of all those people. But most of all he didn't want her to see him as a fool. Suddenly he begins to second guess his choice: he desperately wanted to tell her how he felt, and his first thought was that the speech would be a perfect place to do that; but now that he was taking the time to think about it, he wasn't sure that this was the right way to do it, in front of thousands of people. Of course, he wasn't actually going to say he loved her over the microphone, but he would imply it. The detective looks at his partner, hoping to find some clue on her face.

"You know… I don't really blame them. I mean… if my boyfriend or husband or whatever came back after I thought I'd never see him again, I'd be doing what they are too."

He smiles at her bluntness and checks his watch, "Well, it's almost midnight. You want to head back up?"

She nods, "It can only last so long."

The two return to their room, which is silent, much too their relief. "You go ahead and get ready for bed," he tells her. She goes into the bathroom to change her clothes, wash her face, and brush her teeth. He then does the same, and they look at each other awkwardly before climbing into the bed.

"Good night, Mac," Stella says, lying as close to the right edge of the bed as possible.

"Night, Stel," he replies, turning off the light and making himself comfortable on the opposite side.


"If there is one thing you take from the experience you have had as a Marine, let it be never to take anything for granted. Family, friends, a future… whatever it is. I realized this in Beirut, and when I returned, I took advantage of the opportunities I was given in order to fulfill my dreams, those outside of being a Marine. I got married, became a detective in New York… I wanted kids, but I never got the chance to have them. My wife was in the towers on September 11th; her body was never found. So I want to thank you for doing your part in finding the one that murdered her… but this experience also put things in perspective for me. I know very well that I would not be here right now without the help of my partner, from refusing to let me go into the towers in order to save my wife to taking care of me when I didn't think I had a reason to live anymore to having my back everyday at work. We've grown closer over the years, but I guess I've just recently realized how deep my feelings for her are. And no matter how she feels about me, I plan on putting everything I have into our friendship and never letting her go," Mac concludes his speech, looking around at his audience but avoiding the spot where Stella is seated.

While everyone is clapping, he shakes hands with the others on stage before stepping down to return to his seat. He notices that Stella is walking up the aisle and follows her. Outside of the auditorium, she stops, wrapping her arms around herself and refusing to face him. "Stel," he gently touches her arm. She pulls away. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I shouldn't have said that in front of everyone. It was… personal, and I should have talked to you about it first."

"No," she whispers.

"I don't blame you for saying no to me. I… I probably made a fool of myself in front of everyone. And… now you hate me. That couldn't have been worse… Just… I'm sorry, Stel. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She wipes away a tear that is threatening to fall and watches a man pass by Mac, heading up stairs to the balcony, which was not being used. The man is looking around nervously but avoiding them. After he has rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, Stella starts after him, ignoring Mac.

"Wait, Stella," he calls, following her. "Just… please talk to me."

She turns sharply, facing him and pressing her finger to his lips. "Did that guy look a little suspicious to you?" she asks quietly, motioning up the stairs.

"What guy?"

Stella pulls her heels off and heads up the stairs after him, Mac following closely behind. At the top of the stairs, they pause, checking to see which way he went. Slowly they round the corner too, trying to remain hidden so that he would not see them if he turned around to check behind him. They stay behind him until he turns another corner. As they get closer to it, they find out that it is the men's bathroom.

"He probably just had to go to the bathroom, Stella," he says, trying to pull her back toward the stairs that they came up.

"Mac, there were bathrooms downstairs. And he didn't come out of the auditorium. If he was just going to the bathroom, why did he keep looking around?"

"He was curious about the building?"

They freeze as the bathroom door opens. The man walks out with a rifle in his hand. She nudges Mac with her elbow as the man walks to the door to the balcony of the auditorium. They wait for him to enter before she asks, "Who was speaking after you?"

"Um… some other military person. And then I think the president was…" Their eyes meet as they realize who his target is.

"He knew he wouldn't get the gun in past security so he hid it earlier. We've got to stop him, Mac, or he could kill the president."


"We could… go out there and make a scene so that they protect the president."

"And he'll shoot us before we can succeed."

She sighs, "We split up. I'll go in that door and distract him, and you can go in the other door and tackle him from behind or something while he's distracted."

"What's keeping him from shooting you in order to shut you up?"

"If he shoots me first, the secret service will cover the president before he has a chance to shoot him."

He hesitates, contemplating what his life would be like if he loses her. "You're sure?"

"No," she admits. "But it's the best we can do without any weapons."

Mac finally nods. "Okay."

"Okay," she repeats.

"Just… if anything happens, I love you, Stel."

"I love you too, Mac."

He leans forward to kiss her lips and savors the feeling of her in his arms. The kiss is kept short, though, because they know they have a job to do. With a slight nod, he lets her go, and she gives him a reassuring smile before opening the door of the auditorium.

As she slowly walks down the aisle to where the man is looking through the target of his rifle, she realizes she has no clue what to say to him. She glances to her right, seeing the next door open and Mac enter, his eyes on her. She walks until she is standing behind him, not sure why in the world she is risking her life for someone she doesn't even know. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she says quietly.

He doesn't flinch, which isn't the reaction she expected. Slowly he raises his head from his weapon in order to look back at her. "If I were you, I would run back up those steps as quickly as I could and keep my mouth shut. I've got two bullets, and I'm more than willing to put one in you right after I put one through his head."

"What do you have against the president?"

"Where would you like me to start?" he turns back to his weapon and focuses again on his target.

"What good is shooting him going to do?"

"He doesn't deserve to be the leader of our country."

"And why is that? He hasn't done anything to hurt our country," she leans against the railing next to him.

"Shut up, lady, or I will put a bullet in you."

"Obviously your mother didn't teach you very good manners."

"Shut up."

"Why should I? Why shouldn't I yell out and tell all those people that you are up here, ready to kill our president? You'd never get out of here alive even if I didn't."

He turns to face her, aiming the gun at her head. "You've got until three. If you aren't out of here, I'll shoot. And it won't be a pretty sight. One…"

Stella doesn't move, keeping her eyes on the man, trusting Mac to come to her rescue.


"Go ahead," she whispers.

"Three," he says, just as he pulls the trigger.

Also at that instant, Mac hits him from behind, causing the gun to fly out of his hands and the bullet to sail toward the ceiling. While Mac roughly stands the man up, holding his wrists tightly in order to keep him from escaping, Stella takes the weapon and carefully empties the rest of the bullets onto the floor in order to prevent it from going off again.

Moments later security and secret service come rushing in, taking the rifle from Stella and handcuffing all three of them, much to Mac and Stella's protests.

"We'll need to check your story out first," an agent tells them.

After telling their story to at least five different people each and being fingerprinted and having their DNA taken, they are released, it being found that their prints were not on the bullets or on the trigger of the rifle, corroborating their story.

As they are walking out of the station, the agent that had released them and seemed in charge of the case receives a phone call. He jogs after them, stopping them as they are hailing a cab. "The, uh, president… would like to talk to you."

"What for?" Mac asks.

"To thank you… for saving his life."

They look at each other, "It wasn't nothing, really."

"He said he'll drop by the banquet at the hotel this evening to thank you in person."

"Oh… well, thanks."


Mac takes her hand as they step out of the cab. "This isn't the hotel, Mac," she points out.

"I know. I wanted to talk to you," he leads her toward the Lincoln Memorial, and together they walk up the steps, stopping at the top. They turn around to face the Washington Monument and the reflecting pool and take a seat. "Stella… I understand if you just want to be friends. I understand if you hate me and never want to see me again. Just… tell me what's going on because… I think my head's going to explode if I don't know."

She looks out at the scene in front of them. "Mac…"

"Please, Stel. I love you… I have since Claire passed away. I just… didn't know how to express it. And I know it was inappropriate to admit how I feel in front of all those people, but it just seemed… it seemed right, but now I think I must have been crazy when I wrote my speech. If I had to do it again, I would have told you long ago and in a more -"

"Shut up, Mac," she presses her lips against his, putting her arms around his neck. They do not allow the kiss to last too long but are satisfied when it ends. "I do love you, Mac. And… I didn't exactly like that you told me in front of everyone in the middle of the speech… but… I think it fit with your message and… was definitely the sweetest thing I've heard you say. So… thanks."

"Really?" he asks, shocked.

"Of course, Mac," she wraps her arms around his midsection, leaning against him. "You know… I think you should wear your uniform more often."

He chuckles, "So now I suppose you have a thing for men in uniforms?"

"Maybe… or perhaps just you."

"I'll make you a deal: I'll wear my uniform more often if you don't wear such revealing clothes to work so that all the other men can see you," he pulls her tighter against him.

"I never pictured you as the jealous type, Mac," she lifts her head to smile at him.

"I'm not," he denies. "I just… don't think you should be tempting all our coworkers, not to mention the criminals we chase. Now, when we're alone…"

"Don't you think we should be getting back to the hotel soon?" she asks, standing.

He looks up at her, wondering what he had done wrong. After a moment, he too stands, and they walk down the steps together. "Stel… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try to control you or anything. And if you don't ever want to have that alone time with me, I'll be fine. I guess I just assumed…"

She reaches out and takes his hand, "You don't have to apologize again, Mac. I know you were just joking about the wardrobe thing. And… I do want that alone time… at some point. It's just… a big step for us, and I want to make sure we're ready."

"I understand," he squeezes her hand. "We'll take our time."

"We don't have to go too slowly though…"

He laughs, "Stella, I don't think I ever told you that you were the most beautiful woman at the ceremony… and in the jail."

She blushes, ignoring the jail part, "But you might be a little biased, Mac."

"I might be," he agrees. "You might also be the most beautiful woman I ever met."

"Besides Claire," she adds. "You had an amazing wife, Mac."

He nods in agreement, "But you are the best looking of the women still physically on earth."

"The world is a big place, Mac. I'm sure you could find someone better than me if you tried."

"Is New York City better?" he asks, hailing a cab. Once he has given the cab driver the hotel name, Mac turns his attention back to her. "What are you thinking about?" he studies her thoughtful mood.

"What are we going to do when we go back to New York? I mean… Sinclair isn't going to be thrilled about us… and who knows what the guys will think."

"We'll keep it a secret for a while then. They don't have to know yet because we'll be professional about it."

She ponders that for a moment, "I thought we agreed: no more secrets."

"We did. But that was for secrets between the two of us," he clarifies, referring to the promise they made after returning from Greece. "I think this secret is justified and necessary… at least until we're serious."

"You're not serious about our relationship?"

"Um… of course I am. I just meant… until we were thinking about marriage or something like that."

"Unless you're going to propose in the next few weeks, I think the guys are going to know something is up with us."


Stella yawns, dropping onto the bed, "Exciting day, wasn't it?"

He nods, "It's not everyday that you learn that your best friend is in love with you, you save the president's life and get to meet him, and you get thrown in jail."

"Do you mind if I just sleep in my dress?"

Again, he nods, "I like that dress. Besides, it doesn't look particularly comfortable to sleep in."

She sighs and stands up before attempting to reach the zipper on the back of the dress. "Mac, a little help would be nice."

He laughs and helps her with the zipper, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of her back. "Can you manage or do you need me to help you with other things?"

"I think I can manage," she says, grabbing her pajamas and heading to the bathroom.

While she changes in there, he begins to take off his uniform, carefully hanging it back up.

She opens the door to the bathroom and freezes when she sees him. "You look almost as good out of uniform as you do in," she teases.

He blushes, quickly pulling his t-shirt on. "So, uh… did you enjoy yourself today?"

She nods, hanging up her own attire. "Things aren't going to change when we go back to New York tomorrow, are they, Mac?"

"Things will be different between us, Stel. Unless you don't want them to be…"

"No, I meant… they aren't going to be different than they are right now, are they?"

"Well, I imagine that we'll both be in our own apartments tomorrow evening, unless you want to spend the night together, but… I'll still love you in New York, Stella; that won't change."

"Good," she kisses his cheek.

"I was thinking that maybe we could… watch the fireworks together tomorrow… like we always do on Fourth of July."

She smiles, "Well, maybe not like always."

"What did you have in mind?" Mac wraps his arms around her waist.

"Just the two of us… alone… not with the guys from work. And maybe some kissing," she leans in to kiss him.

"I might be able to arrange that," he says as he pulls back.


"Well, we'll have to find another rooftop… or kick the guys off the roof of the lab, in which case they'd definitely suspect that something is going on between us."

"Then you better start working on it the minute our flight lands tomorrow morning."


Stella's phone rings at six o'clock the next morning. "Hello?" she grumbles at whoever dared to wake her.

"What are you and Mac up to in DC?" Lindsay asks, furious.

"What's wrong, Lindsay?" she sits up, wondering how their coworker could know that they were now together when she hadn't even seen them yet.

"Have you looked at the paper yet? You really should."

Slowly she gets out of the bed, failing to acknowledge her partner as she opens the door and picks up the paper from the floor. After closing the door, she returns to the bed and unfolds it. A picture of her and Mac, his arm around her waist, with the president covers the front page, along with the corresponding story of how they had stopped an attempted assassination.

"Is it true?" Lindsay demands, having given her enough time to see what the fuss was about.

"Yes, Mac and I did save the president. We even spent some time in jail ourselves."

"But what about the rest? Did he really admit his feelings for you during his speech?"

"Um… no… of course not… Mac doesn't have feelings for me beyond friendship. I'm sure the writer just… tried to make his story more entertaining with that… information."

"Oh… Well, leave it to the two of you to spend your vacation time fighting crime instead of expressing your feelings," she mutters to herself. "So… you two will meet us at the lab tonight for fireworks, right? You can fill us all in then."

"Yeah, sure…"

"Alright. See you later then."

"What was that about?" Mac asks.

She motions to the paper, "Keeping our secret might be harder than we thought."

"This is a good picture of us," he says.

"I don't remember seeing anyone with a camera there."

He pauses for a moment, "Neither do I."

She takes a few minutes to read the entire article before handing it to him, "I guess I should get dressed; we have a flight to catch in a few hours."

When she is out of the shower, she can hear Mac talking to someone in the other room. She quickly dresses and goes out to see him. "Who were you talking to?"

"Well, the hotel manager came by and said he was so sorry that we couldn't get another room and thought that we were very brave so… he's giving us the stay for free. And then Sinclair called…"

She sits down beside him on the bed, not sure that she wants to know what their boss had to say. "How bad was it?"

"He was pretty angry… and said that the moment our personal lives affected our work we are both fired."

"Oh. I guess that's better than being fired right now."

He nods, "We'll manage."

"Well, I guess we don't have to hide it from the guys anymore."

"That makes things a little easier, I suppose."

"And we can stay together."

"Definitely a plus," he puts his arms around her.

She places a hand on his cheek and kisses him, "You better go take a shower; it might take us a while to get through the airport now that we're national heroes."

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to stop him," he reminds her, chuckling.

"I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal," she says. "Oh, and don't forget to shave; I don't like prickly guys," she pats his cheek and smiles.

"If you're going to complain, I'll gladly find myself another girlfriend," Mac teases.

"I don't think anyone else would want you. Although… you do look pretty hot in your uniform."

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've been busy with school. Anyway, I wrote this one like six months ago and never got around to posting it. I have one more story written that I'll probably start posting later this week. And I'm about to start another story so stay tuned. Please review.