Story Notes:
The following story contains some material of a sexual nature, none of it pleasant.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Way back when, my special lady and I decided it might be fun to collaborate on an Office story together... we traded ideas, rewrote each other's segments... generally had a good time. Until we got the stupid idea of posting it. This story first appeared on fanfiction dot net on March 7, 2007. It was first taken down March 8, 2007. We'll see how long it takes us to come to our senses this time.
Hallo Jack vs. DJ Kowalski
"Scranton: Sex City"
Michael, with crisp finality: It is Wednesday. And we all know nothing ever happens on Wednesday.
He shakes his head as trying to shake the day from the week.
Michael: No TGIF, no Must-See TV. Nothing to do.
Pause.
Michael: Hump day.
---
Jims without Jams
---
Jim: "How is Karen different from the other girls I've dated?"
Jim takes his good long time thinking about how to answer this one.
Jim: ...
Silence.
Jim: Well...
Pause.
Jim: Karen... is a real woman. And if you find yourself a real woman...
For several seconds, Jim experiments with different expressive hand motions.
Jim: ...You had better be ready to be a real man.
----
As Jim stood there, buying ice cream, condoms, and light bulbs from a woman his mother saw everyday, dressed in battered jeans, Vans, and a t-shirt that read "Who the Fuck Are the Arctic Monkeys," he couldn't help but wondered when time ran backwards and he became sixteen again.
Karen was unquestionably different than any girl he had been with before and, while he often worried he wasn't up to her expectations, she clearly had an opposing viewpoint which he both respected and valued.
Tonight she said she wanted to try "something different."
Those had been her exact words.
Now, Jim was (despite arguments to the contrary by Todd Packer, his uncle, and various guys he knew in high school) a man and he wasn't about to say "no."
Which meant that right now his sole purpose for breathing was to buy this stuff and get back to her as soon as was humanly imaginable.
Although he did hope that the light bulbs would not be playing a non-standard role.
"'Arctic Monkeys?'"
"You laugh now, but I bet that you good on the dance floor," Jim turned to face her. "Hey, Beesly."
For all the reluctance he had felt throughout the relationship, Jim was slowly coming to accept that Karen was the girl that he would eventually marry. They were already moving in that direction, he knew. She had moved to Scranton to be near him, she slept at his place measurably more often than her own... they had even been talking of moving in and adopting a cat (her choice, he was a dog guy... but in his mind he could easily picture a small gray tabby named Super Furry Animal or XBG curled up between their feet as they slept at night). Jan had hinted to him that Wallace had been particularly impressed with the two of them (both as individuals, but even more so as a unit) and that further advancement through the corporate infrastructure was a given. And Jim accepted all this as being what the future had in store for him.
Of course, he had a harder time accepting all this with Pam standing in front of him.
"Hi," she smiled sweetly back at him, clearly glad to catch him alone. "Are you just shopping?" Then gave a casual glance into his basket and her face like it had suddenly become made out of granite.
"Um, yeah..." His thoughts were racing for some sort of defense. What could he possibly say, though? That Karen doesn't react well to the Pill and he didn't trust the Rhythm Method tonight. That was the truth, but he somehow didn't think that was something Pam needed to hear just the right. He glanced at her basket, as if it held some item that could save him. She was buying tampons and Lunchables.
And she noticed him looking, so he had successfully upgraded her from being so embarrassed she couldn't speak to him to so embarrassed she couldn't even look him in the eye.
"So, um..."
Jim heard a small fizzling sound in the distance that he was fairly certain was his plans for the evening dying slowly away.
"Are you, uh," Jim tried to carve something resembling conversation out of the silence, using only his pickaxe and some dynamite, "are you going out later?"
"No," Pam still couldn't face him. "Were you going to out tonight?"
"I was actually gonna stay in," Jim said before he realized how very obvious that statement must have been. "But, uh," he tried to recover, "I heard a lot people from work are going to Poor Richard's, so..."
"Oh."
The great, long painfully awkward moments had always been a mainstay of his relationship with Pam. Their friendship had been like a box of chocolates with the occasional springing trap wedged innocuously between the raspberry creme and the Savoy truffle. There had been a significant raise in Chocolate Surprises since he came back from Stamford determined to move on with his life despite his life's views on the matter, but he couldn't think about that right now. Right now he had to focus getting very far away and wiping this awkward moment from his memory forever.
"Hup, looks like it's my turn to checkout," Jim stated, trying his best to sound casual.
"Oh, okay," Pam just barely kept from whimpering. For as painful as standing there talking to him had clearly been, Pam seemed to be hurt even more by the idea that he might leave this small safe haven and get on with his plans for the evening.
Jim threw his money down and ran for the door. "See you tomorrow, Beesly," he called back.
She waved her hand weakly and tried to get back to her shopping.
----
With the night safely between them, Jim released a long-strangled sigh. He felt bad leaving Pam to face what did not look to be a particularly promising evening... but what was he supposed to do, invite her along? Somehow he couldn't imagine Karen jumping at that idea.
The night was colder than he had expect, but still opted to walk the rest of the way.
He suddenly felt like taking his time on the way home.
----
Thwarted In The Quest For Porno
----
Dwight: "How do I feel about office relationships?"
There is a rather lengthy pause in which Dwight, clearly terrified by the question, attempts to ignore it for so long that it just gets bored and goes away.
----
Dwight recognized the mental deficiencies inherent in all women, even the only one who had proven herself worthy (or, to the rest of the world, willing) to receive his attentions in the same way he had accepted the obvious physical limitations. Certainly a gender designed (either by nature or the consistent experimentation on the human genetic structure by ultra-terrestrial entities) to carry and expel the new generations could only be expected to be a bunch of whiners and weaklings...
But to deprive a man of his rightful Cookie for such a small offense? That was insane even by female standards.
Unfortunately, his old standby had been something of a disappointment the past few nights as well. How was it that the computer, a device built by man for the sole purpose of delivering topless pictures of women with pleasant balloonies could fail him now, in his time of greatest need? He was a male hetero, he had certain needs.
And now those needs were going painfully unfulfilled.
Feeling female eyes on him, Dwight looked across the room to his ladylove. She was glaring at him with such a cold, withering contempt that he shrunk within himself like a dying star.
"You doing okay, Dwight?" Jim looked concerned. Eff, the last thing Dwight wanted to do was show weakness in front of him.
"I'm having computer problems," Dwight admitted, trying to conceal how much this fazed him.
Jim reached his head over to Dwight's desk. "Looks okay to me," he said stupidly.
"Not here," Dwight hissed with the righteousness of one who knew what ought to be obvious, "my computer at home."
"Oh," Jim replied like an idiot.
"I've been having some problems with Vista," Dwight continued heroically, "you know how it is."
Jim made that idiotic face he was always making when the camera was on him. "I'm a Mac," he said. Of course he was.
"Loser," Dwight said, accurately, to which Jim could only make that face again, acknowledging Dwight's rightness.
When he was sure Jim had turned his attention elsewhere, he tried to call up a few favorite pages.
It was no good; apparently after he had found all that gay pornography for Michael someone at Corporate had installed some kind of blocking program and now he couldn't get into any of his favorite pages, not even cyclonsex dot com or marrissavoyeur dotcom. It was the worst of all possible worlds: he had absolutely no source of new pornography.
Shutting down the useless paperweight that his computer had become, he looked again towards accounting. Angela was cruelly demolishing Kevin for some misdeed he was doubtlessly guilty of. Dwight knew what had to be done.
He would go to Angela's after work, and he would find a way to make her forgive him.
He simply didn't have any other choice.
----
Mr. Halpert Confesses
----
Karen: You know how sometimes you think things are going to go one way?
Pause.
Karen: You just really think you've got your life on one specific track and you really think you know where you're going?
Pause.
Karen: And then...
----
Although she had gone out of her way to let him know her invitation did not have an expiration date and he was free to drop by whenever he wanted, Karen couldn't ignore the fact that it was getting pretty late and Jim had yet to arrive, no matter how hard she tried.
She didn't want to put pressure on him; that was the last thing their relationship needed right now, and she was trying to soft and casual about everything...
But that turned out to be surprisingly hard work. The fact was that cared for Jim more than she was comfortable admitting; that she couldn't think about him without imagining all those stupid little girl dreams she'd always laughed at, but at the same time she simply could not convince herself that she didn't notice how distracted he could get.
Or that every time she didn't know where he was, she didn't wonder if he was with her.
She looked at her watch again. An invitation like the one she had felt so ridiculous giving him definitely deserved a faster response than this. She tried not to think about what she had seen in the office earlier that day.
Or how jealous it had made her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door.
"Hey," he said softly.
She felt her stomach eating itself as she rose to welcome him. She'd never gotten that feeling before she met Jim Halpert and she hated it. "What took you so long?"
She had intended it to be a light mocking, more a joke than anything else, but it made her realize that there was definitely something on his mind. "I, uh..."
She looked at him expectantly.
"...I ran into some people from the office," he admitted awkwardly.
Karen bit her lip, bracing herself. She knew exactly where this was going. "Is there something I should know?"
Jim took a breath. It was time to let her know the horrible truth he'd been hiding from her all this time. "Karen..."
She waited for him to continue, not really wanting to hear what he had to say, but when it became increasingly evident that he wasn't going to be able to do so on his own, she gave him the necessary nudge. "Yeah?"
He looked at her seriously. "I hate the Legend of Zelda."
She raised a eyebrow. This was a surprise.
"I've been trying since I was a kid and... I just get bored," he admitted.
Karen nodded solemnly. "I knew about Call of Duty, but..."
"Yeah," he said, letting his head droop to the ground.
For a time she simply let herself digest his words. As hard as it had been for her to hear them, she knew it had to have been even more difficult for him to say them to her. Anyway, she had always suspected as much and she kind of had to respect him for finally being honest with her. "We can still play Tony Hawk, right?"
Jim reacted as though this were obvious. "Of course."
"Cool," she smiled back at him, "I'll kick your ass..." she raised an eyebrow seductively as she added "...later."
"Okay..." Jim agreed softly, abandoning his sneakers and following her further into her home.
"And, hey," he added "I've got something I think I should probably ask you."
----
Further proof that the you can get what you want and still not be very happy
----
Toby: My ideal woman?
Pause.
Toby: Probably Yeardley Smith... the voice of Lisa Simpson.
Pause.
Toby: Or just an adult version of Lisa Simpson.
----
Toby had been summoned largely because, after Oprah and Dr. Phil, he was the most qualified therapist Kelly knew.
Toby didn't watch Oprah or Dr. Phil, so he couldn't honestly say whether or not either of them had any kind of emergency contact line, but he was confident that if such a line existed Kelly had been banned for life.
But, then, Toby was used to not being anyone's first choice.
"We haven't been letting her have any more to drink," Ryan explained with his usual wavering lack of affection. This make perfect sense to Toby; Pam may have been an adult, but her coworkers had been fortunate enough to be present for one of the few instances of being truly drunk in her life and it was not anything that had to be repeated.
Especially not in the state she was in now.
"How many have you had, Pam?" Toby asked softly.
"Before Ryan and Kelly got here?" she asked, broken and creaking.
Toby nodded, which she couldn't see because her head was down, so he added a weak "Yeah..."
"Two," Pam answered in a strangely Piglet-esque voice.
Well, that settled one question, Pam wasn't drunk, just emotionally exhausted.
"Do you want to talk about it?" In many ways this made Toby's job easier, this was what he went to school for, but...
Pam made a noise that was quite successful in not at all resembling any language Toby knew anything of, but was noncommittal enough that Toby knew she wasn't comfortable discussing this in public (or at least in front of Kelly).
Toby rose to his feet and gestured for Pam to follow suit. "I'll drive you home."
----
Once safely in the vehicle, Pam began to very slowly open herself up.
It wasn't that Pam hadn't accepted that Jim and Karen were having sex. She knew that, she accepted that, and they were both adults, anyway. Still.
Toby nodded empathetically. He knew a lot about Still.
Jim was so different than he'd been a year ago. He was going somewhere and she was watching him from the same place she'd always been.
She had made progress, Toby pointed out, in her life and her art.
"Have I?" Pam asked, the sting of her art show still fresh in her mouth.
Then Toby came to the horrid realization that he was going to have say something personal to Pam. Somehow it was always easier to talk to people when had his professional hat on, but whenever he needed to speak from the heart, he invariably Schruted it in the most embarrassing way imaginable. And this was Pam.
How could he reassure her? Should he tell her how he felt? Well, that hardly seemed like the best idea. Even if he was successful in his attempts not to choke on his own tongue, then he that to worry about the words hanging out there, in the air, the same way bricks don't.
It was just not a good situation for Toby to be in.
"Toby." She had this strange expression on her face, as though she might cry, but was desperately trying not to. But there was something else there, too. Should he kiss her? No words, just like in the movies?
He leaned in, incredibly slowly and... then it happened.
She was sick all over his shoes.
----
When he'd stopped the car, she'd gotten out.
Disappeared into the night, carrying her grocery bag behind her and offering several thousand embarrassed apologies in the space of a few seconds. Never in Toby's life had anyone made so many offers to buy him a new pair of shoes.
He didn't blame her, of course. With all that she'd been through, it was only natural that her emotional problems would manifest themselves physically.
And after all, he thought as he slumped back into his seat, she'd been through an awful lot lately.
----
Men Together Today
----
The beat of his iPod had become strangely synchronized with his pulse as he jogged another block. Right now Oscar had nowhere to go but home, but he still felt he needed to get some distance.
Every time Gil came into contact with one of his coworkers, it invariably ended making his life a little more difficult and a little less pleasant, which was one of his main reasons for trying to keep those two aspects of his life separate.
(The others all specifically involved Michael and/or Angela, but that was neither here nor there right now.)
But it was that or face the sink full of dirty dishes, so...
The evening was a predictable disaster, over in seconds. Kelly had been so eager to spill the big news of the evening that she hadn't even noticed that Roy had been standing within earshot. Or maybe she had noticed and she just liked conflict. It wasn't worth thinking about. But it was things boomaranged around and the story of Kelly and Ryan's recent adventure hit that things really began to go pear-shaped for Oscar. Gil was suddenly furious with him; before he knew it, they were deep into the old familiar fight: why wasn't Oscar more demonstrative? Why didn't Oscar want him that much, Gil demanded, somehow missing the mortified look on Ryan's face. They had been there less than ten minutes and it was more than enough to ruin Oscar's week.
Almost on instinct, he crossed past the building where he worked, expecting to find the parking lot as empty as by rights it should be this time of night. "Jim?"
The shadowed figure had been staring mutely at the building, but turned to face Oscar when his name was called. "Hey, Oscar."
Oscar put his iPod on pause. "How long have you been out here?" Oscar asked with more concern than he thought he could have for one of his coworkers.
Jim gave the sort of shrug that told Oscar volumes about that and the many other things Jim didn't seem to know at the moment. "Just been thinking about things," Jim muttered in justification.
Oscar nodded in sympathy and recognition. "It's not like the movies," Oscar said simply.
Jim nodded. "No," he agreed, clearly blown away by this simple statement.
The two men stood there, alone with the silence.
----
Oscar: In the end, we both decided to go home.
Oscar smiles and shrugs.
Oscar: Hey, I've got dishes to do.
----
Office Space
----
Ryan had come to accept his time in the annex. Oh, it went without saying that every moment with Kelly was a brand new fresh coat of hell and there wasn't a single moment when he didn't feel like red hot railway spikes were being driven into his soul, but it had given him a new and appreciation for what Toby had to put up with for the past few years. The older man had become something of a reverse wing-man to Ryan lately, doing his best to provide a buffer between Kelly and himself, usually under the guise of company policy. Ryan had come to love Toby, and if he ever found his way out of Dunder-Mifflin and into the first shining rays of a bright new Sun, Toby would be the only one he'd send for.
Unfortunately, this fragile peace could only exist as long as Toby was in the room, and Ryan knew he would eventually be left alone with his fate.
He was not at all surprised that it was Dwight who brought his brief time of quiet to an end.
"Toby, I need to talk to you right now."
For his part, Toby merely looked up with his usual bored resignation. "What is it this time, Dwight?"
"Some person or persons," Dwight hissed, eyeing Ryan and Kelly suspiciously, "has stolen my potatoes."
"Dwight, is this really that big a problem?" Toby sighed in disgust.
"They had my name on them," Dwight defended.
"Fine... I'll take care of it," Toby assured him, rising from his seat. Ryan gave Toby one last, pleading gaze, but Toby just shook his head and whispered. "I'm sorry."
Ryan nodded. He knew it couldn't last.
Toby wasn't out the door an eye-blink when Kelly sprang on him. "We're finally alone!" she nearly sang.
"Well, not really," Ryan mumbled, cocking his head in the direction of their coworkers and the trained film crew still on the other side of the kitchen.
"Yeah, but no one comes over here," she replied cheerfully. This was true and he knew it. He never came the annex when he worked out there.
He made it a point not to.
"We could both get fired," he pleaded.
This clearly didn't bother Kelly too much, which left Ryan both horribly frightened and disturbingly turned on. "We'll go under the table and they won't be able to see us."
By this point, Ryan was torn between his desire to be very, very far away and his desire to simply leave his body entirely. Therefore, he was understandably shocked when he heard himself respond with a simple, strangled "okay."
Kelly squealed with girlish glee while Ryan took a brief thoughtful moment to consider how much he really must hate himself.
However, combining the two parts of his life that left Ryan most physically ill was not so easily accomplished. The desk was smaller and lower than Kelly had initially thought and could not house both Kelly and himself... at least, not if comfort, concealment, or maneuverability were any kind of priority.
"Is this doing anything for you?" Ryan asked flatly as he looked down at the obscene hermit crab-shape they had created.
"Well... not really," Kelly admitted. "But maybe if I try this..."
"OW!"
"Sorry."
Ryan looked at the clock, waiting for the whole sloppy ordeal to be over.
They both heard the door creak open and Kelly jumped, injuring herself slightly and Ryan hideously in the process.
"Oh, God!" Karen gasped.
"Wait!" Ryan rushed to his feet to explain, only to realize he'd just exposed himself further.
"I'm really sorry," Karen said quickly (doubtlessly meaning it) before disappearing out the way she came.
Ryan sighed. He doubted Karen would say anything to Michael or Corporate, but he would have liked to have one person who could speak to in the office.
"Ryan?" Kelly whined, drawing out every letter.
He looked down at her in frank disgust. "What?"
"I'm stuck."
He cast his eyes skyward. "Oh, God."
----
Ryan: I don't know if you guys caught any of that, but...
Pause.
Ryan: If you did, please... just destroy the tape.
He shakes his head
Ryan: It's not anything anyone wants to see.
----
Rongela
----
Later he would blame the whole thing on Pam.
Pam and alcohol, that had been the source of the problem.
It had been hard enough hearing about her and Halpert, but then to hear about her leaving with Toby? It was too much for him.
He sat down and had a drink, he deserved that much. Hell, he deserved to throw back his age in shots after what he'd been through.
Of course, the problem was that once he started thinking about what he deserved, it was kind of difficult to stop deserving, and before he knew it, he had deserved himself onto the pavement.
Which seemed like the likely end of this evening.
----
Once, when Angela was very small, her father had been called away on business on a Sunday. With innocent eyes, she had asked her mother if they could skip church that week.
"I suppose," her mother had replied, smiling. Then, unable to resist the temptation to damn her own child to eternal punishment added, "if that's what you want for yourself."
However, despite promises that it would remain their little secret, Angela's mother dutifully reported their daughter's blasphemy to her husband. Her father had been unforgiving, and little Angela found herself so thoroughly spanked she was unable to sit properly for well over a week.
Since that day, Angela had never been able to forgive her mother, while the love and respect she felt towards her father only seemed increase with each passing year.
----
Roy reminded Angela a lot of her father. She supposed that was why she offered to drive him home. She couldn't help but notice the same quiet strength and powerful moral character in him as Kevin and Stanley hauled him to her car and ceremoniously flumped him into the back seat. Truly, this was a man.
On the ride home, Roy had been burbling muted lamentations about Pam and her various infidelities. Angela shook her head, amazed that a man as good and strong as Roy could stay faithful to such a hussy after everything she had done.
That Pam didn't realize what a man among men she had been given proved everything Angela had ever thought about her and she instantly regretted the few instances of kindness she had permitted Pam.
Angela told Roy softly that she had just been through a bad break-up herself.
Roy made a sound that was unintelligible, yet reassuring.
"It involved deer jerky," Angela added ruefully.
----
Roy had been vaguely aware that someone had promised to take him home at some point in the evening.
Naturally he assumed that had meant his home, and he was fairly surprised when the completely unfamiliar car stopped outside a small, sparsely decorated white house he had never seen before and he was instructed to come in.
The inside of the house was also white and featureless, to the point that Roy might have been convinced he had been abducted by aliens had he had slightly more to drink. It took every one of Roy's skills to avoid all the cats that kept running underfoot, but somehow he managed it. He did, however end up spilling half his water bottle on one of them, but at the time he had been too busy wondering where he got the water bottle from in the first place to take much notice. It was a good idea, he reflected, he didn't want to regret waking up tomorrow.
"Is that Jesus?" he slurred, noticing the only picture in the entire house.
"My father," Angela corrected, "keeping icons is a sin."
"Yeah," Roy agreed, not really knowing what he was agreeing to.
Angela smiled. "Here, I'll show you where you can sleep."
Roy followed her. He couldn't quite remember this girl's name, but he had always thought her ass was something special and the rest of her had shown marked improvement over the course of the night. But was this really what he needed right now?
"This way," she said softly, opening the door for him.
The bedroom looked like it should be in private rehab center. Aside from the small, featureless bed with its plain white sheets, it was almost exactly like every other room in the house. The only other major difference was the chains hanging from the walls and ceiling and the huge, locked chest in the corner.
Roy burst out laughing. This was exactly what he needed right now.
----
Roy did not consider himself a slouch when it came to sex. Certainly, he had been with Pam for over ten years and had remained largely faithful to her (in the spirit of the word if not the letter) and with her he always tried to keep it simple, so he could not rightly say that he knew everything there was to know about fornication. Still, he had always thought there were certain goals that everyone was working towards when they got it on.
Angela clearly disagreed.
He realized he probably should have discussed these things about Angela before he let her chain him to her wall, but there was very little he could do about that right now.
"Forgive me, Father..." she chanted as she melted another candle.
"Do you think you could scratch between my shoulders? It kind of itches."
"No," she snapped, "we must suffer for our sins." And then she went right back to her chanting.
Roy liked to think that if had been sober, none of this would have happened. He also liked to think if he was sober he would have heard someone moving around in the house before Schrute was standing in the doorway to the bedroom.
"My woman making fuck with another man," Dwight stated coldly, "I should be furious."
Angela somehow went even more caucasian with shocked fear, Roy himself found himself desperately struggling against the chains.
Then Schrute's eyebrow went up sinisterly. "Yet I am not."
A wicked smile slowly crept its way across Angela's face and Roy turned several shades of pale.
---
Roy, quickly and decisively: I don't want to talk about it. Ever.
----
Next Morning
----
Pam: Um...
----
It wasn't easy for Pam to get out of bed that day. She knew she'd never be able to face Toby again without risking real and actual death from embarrassment, but that wasn't what was really upsetting her. She liked Toby, but the two of them had never been especially close.
As she got out of her trusty Yaris, she was instantly confronted by the real source of her discomfort.
Jim was noticeably unsteady on his feet.
"Are you okay?" Karen playfully asked him. Her tone was unusually soft, Pam could tell she didn't think anyone could hear her but Jim.
"Yeah, it's just..." he paused for a second and had to laugh "we're not doing that again."
Karen smiled back at him. "You said you wanted to try it," she teased.
"Well, now we have," he beamed down at her, "and we can go back to what we were doing before... that really worked out."
"Yeah," she smiled, "it did."
She also noticed that Roy as he walked slowly from his truck, trying to somehow render himself invisible through sheer force of will. Dwight and Angela were smiling at him from their opposite corners of the parking lot. She didn't even want to wonder about what had happened there. That chapter of her life was closed and it was time to move on.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and was horrified to discover it was Michael's. "Smiles, Peter Pam Peanut Butter and Jelly," he chirps cheerfully, "it's Thursday! Alf's on!" Then he threw his head back wistfully "I miss Alf."
Of course he did. "Happy Thursday, Michael."
"I love Thursday!" Michael said, squeezing himself into a pressured, frenetic ball as he said it. "It's one day closer to the weekend, drinks are cheaper... it's so much better than Wednesday!"
Pam gave him a smile that was both painful and honest. "Yeah, Wednesday is not my favorite day, either."
"But Thursday! It's like a new future!" Michael clearly had some vendetta against Wednesday which he saw Thursday as being his greatest ally in, but she wasn't about to ask.
Pam nodded, keeping her eyes front as she went through the door.
"Did you know The Simpsons used to be on on Thursday?"
End
Chapter End Notes:
I honestly don't know how I feel about posting this one and I wrote about half of it... probably not a good sign, but...
