To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Warning: Very heavy angst.
Notes:
Ok, so we’re here. The last chapter of “To Trust a Cop”. I’m sorry it’s so short but then again, I could have written twenty pages and it would still have felt short.


52

The ride was silent and Squall had a hard time registering where they were. Actually, he had a hard time registering anything. The… relief, it wasn’t the proper word, whatever he felt was flooding his system and making him numb. He couldn’t really make himself understand that he was in a car with Seifer.

His body was hurting. Being held or hugged or embraced, whatever you called the clinging he was receiving and giving, hurt him. There were either broken or less damaged bones complaining and a whole array of bruises that screamed bloody murder. He couldn’t make himself shift away though. So he pressed closer at one point.

Since he couldn’t make sense of the passing view, he pushed into the cop’s chest and the hollow of his throat. The big arms wrapped more tightly around him. So much had happened during the latest… twenty-four hours? At some point they entered a dark garage or the sort and the car finally stopped. Seifer opened the door and for a silly moment Squall didn’t want to leave the car. He had found a small sliver of heaven where time didn’t pass. Outside the car was reality and he didn’t feel like facing it again.

Green eyes caught his and there was question in them. Squall followed as he was given a tug. Not the forceful or hurtful kind. More as if the cop asked what he was waiting for.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” Teo said lowly as Squall had slipped out.

Seifer just grunted in response. They watched in silence as the car drove away again. Squall wasn’t released but he didn’t mind. However, as he took in the unfamiliar underground garage he had a sudden and intense feeling of despair. He couldn’t explain the sudden need to sit down in a heap and cry.

“I want to go home,” Squall whispered.

It still sounded like a childish whimper. He wanted home. He wanted his own familiar apartment, his own clothes, his shower and his bed. Large fingers cupped his jaw and Squall stared up into green eyes that didn’t quite hide whatever emotion was in them. Squall still wasn’t capable of placing it.

“He doesn’t know where I live,” the cop murmured.

Squall had to fight with himself for a moment. The child wanted to keep stubbornly crying for home while the somewhat logic part of him saw the sense in staying in a place… Seraph couldn’t find.

In the end he was easily led to the elevator furthest down the garage. As they waited for it to come, Squall became aware that he was barefooted. Oddly enough he didn’t feel the cold the concrete should have exuded. The elevator dinged open.

The youth didn’t quite remember. One moment they entered the elevator, the next they were in an apartment. The shook of the sudden shift made him blink rapidly. The lights were turned on and the door closed and locked by the sound of it. When concentrating he vaguely remembered the elevator ride and corridor and the apartment door. Felt like a dream.

Seifer was making a ruckus while taking off his trench coat and boots and the big gunblade. Squall studied his surroundings instead of watching the tall blond.

Bigger than his. The… livingroom and hall was bigger than his whole apartment. Just beyond to the left there was a kitchen cut off from the rest by a tall counter. Further to the left was a short corridor with all doors open. Squall guessed it was there the bathroom and bedroom and whatnot was.

It was a very nice apartment. Straight, nice, clean colors. No art. No curtains. No rugs. A TV and stereo but they didn’t look like they were used much since they weren’t even in standby mode. In fact, Squall got the feeling the place wasn’t very used at all. It looked too… clean, to bare, to perfectly neat even for his taste. Then again, it was easy to keep things neat when you didn’t have things to not keep neat.

Squall jumped almost three feet as a hand was on his shoulder. His heart was racing and he stared up at the cop. The touch hadn’t been very heavy and he knew the cop had been there, yet his heart was in his throat and his breathing was erratic. He kept staring into the familiar dark, green eyes. For a moment he had a hard time seeing the difference between them. Then Seifer frowned in concern or question, green eyes softening a little. The hand had fallen away.

“You hungry?” the blond asked lowly.

His baritone was so familiar it made Squall shudder. Not Seraph’s voice. Seifer’s voice. Seifer’s eyes. Seifer’s scent. Squall shook his head. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t anything. He didn’t know what he was.

“Ok. Let’s get you soaked and put to bed,” the cop murmured.

That sent a jolt like electricity through him. Bed. He didn’t quite understand why such a simple word should have his heart race.

“I’m not tired,” he said quickly.

Seifer arched an eyebrow as if questioning his sanity. Squall looked away. His stomach was knotting together with his throat.

“Squall… you look dead on your feet,” Seifer said softly.

The brunet nodded since he didn’t trust his own voice. Perhaps the blond was right. Perhaps his muddy brain would be clearer and focused after some rest. Her face shimmered in the outskirt of his mind and Squall knew that there was no such thing as rest. A hand touched him again but this time he only flinched.

“Come on, trust me,” the cop murmured.

Again Squall found himself being led. He glanced into the kitchen. It looked slightly more used. The wooden counter looked a little worn and there were dishes in the sink. He blinked at the… humongous coffee maker in one corner. It disappeared as they entered the short corridor with two doors.

The bathroom was… what a bathroom should be. There was a separated shower and bath and there was a wide space around both toilet and sink. Squall almost sighed. How would he be able to stay in his tiny apartment after this? The bathroom was smaller than that other at least. It was comfortable. Not too big or too small. Just right.

Squall stood in the middle like a lost satellite while the cop took out some shampoo and a terry towel big enough for a horse. Then suddenly, he left the bathroom and Squall stared after the man. That’s it? Was he supposed to shower now? Squall turned back to look into the shower stall. It was much bigger than his own, a more comfortable size. Then the cop was back and in his hands was a small pile of grey, dark blue cotton clothes that the brunet recognized instantly.

The man truly had taken some of Squall’s own clothes there. The clothes were put on the toilet seat and then they stood there. Seifer didn’t look at him; the man seemed to glare a hole in the clothes. Squall’s stomach knotted and one hand subconsciously lay across his stomach.

Undressing in front of the cop had never before been an issue, suddenly the mere thought made him ill. It almost brought the tears back. He couldn’t make himself show… all the marks. The evidence of that abuse. Suddenly the cop turned and headed for the door.

“Just call if there’s anything,” the man said shortly, still lowly though.

Then the door softly closed behind Squall. It should have made him feel better but it didn’t. It made the burning behind his eyes and knotting of his throat worse but he couldn’t explain it.

He avoided the mirror, had avoided mirrors for quite some time now it felt like. There was no relief or pleasure in taking a warm, hot shower. Not like it should have. He ended it quickly. Just took the necessary scrub through his hair and used the minimum amount of soap across his body.

Slipping into his own clothes, however, that was pleasure. To feel the worn but soft and familiar fabric around him was security. He didn’t know what to do with the towel so he hung it back onto the wall.

It was easy to find the bedroom. Foremost it was the last room in the corridor, secondly the door stood wide open and the lights where on. He padded to it with a small feeling of anxiety. Seifer stood by the windows and watched whatever he watched far off by the horizon.

The blond’s bedroom didn’t surprise him. It was centered around a big bed, but not a silly big bed. Just big enough for two people sleeping comfortably together. It was as bare as the rest of the apartment, but still warmer somehow. There was a rug here covering the hard floor. The left side was covered in mirrors and it took a moment for him to understand that it was actually a wardrobe.

He could feel eyes on him and looked up to see Seifer watching him. The change in the eyes uneased Squall, so he looked away again. The bed covers was withdrawn at one end. Seifer slowly walked to him and Squall made what felt like a childish face.

“I want to go home,” he whispered again.

His face was stroked this time and the cop leaned down. Squall froze as he expected a kiss, but instead their foreheads were pressed together again. The blond was breathing deeply and still Squall thought this was just a very controlled façade. The blond took a breath as if to speak but just let it go again.

“Tomorrow,” he said then.

Squall gave a sigh. No use arguing and he knew better. He nodded and stepped up to the bed. It was easier than he thought it would be to slip under the cover and let his body find rest. Seifer joined him, still fully dressed and he stayed on top of the cover. Still he pressed close to Squall’s back and held him.

It was much more comfortable than the youth could have guessed. A sense of safety settled in his stomach through the dizzy haze of exhaustion.

*****

Day break came too soon. He had slept perhaps a couple hours. He didn’t need more. The adrenaline didn’t seem to completely leave him and the alertness stayed. He knew better than to feel anxious in his own home. He knew better than anyone else that this place was quite, quite secure. Seifer guessed there was other things that kept him up and running.

His first estimation had been wrong. He should have expected it and prepared but his brother had always had the upper hand in everything. Squall was more damaged than he first thought. Hopefully a good rest and some food would make him less miserable. It was hard, though, to imagine that the wide eyed stare would disappear anytime soon.

It had scalded him like boiling oil when the youth had flinched at his touch. Acid had coiled through his throat and stomach at the evident distress in the bathroom. For a moment Seifer had contemplated to watch the brunet. Maybe make the excuse that he had to check for serious wounds. However, for once, he hadn’t known how to go about it. So he had forced himself to leave.

The rage was mixed with a sort of sorrow and of guilt. His fault. He had gotten Squall involved and he had made the stupid mistakes. Still he wasn’t done hurting the youth.

Squall had at least been sleeping like a truly exhausted man. He hadn’t moved an inch from the moment he was unconscious. The cell-phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. For a moment Seifer wondered if he could make another plan. Was there some way that wouldn’t involve uprooting the youth so completely? He knew that was a no. He wouldn’t do the same mistake again, even if it meant hurting the brunet further.

“Yeah?” he grumbled in the phone.

“I’m at your place in fifteen minutes. Kinneas is ok by the way,” Teo said calmly.

The sniper hadn’t entered his mind once.

“He got any trophy?”

“No, but he told me to tell you that next time you might want to mention the existence of mutated nightmare beasts,” the man said tightly.

Apparently the teacher had seen a corps of said beast.

“If he can’t handle a couple pups he’s not much of a sniper,” Seifer growled.

Teo cursed something snidely but the cop shut the phone. Squall had managed to keep sleeping. The blond sighed and carefully disentangled from the youth.
In sleep Squall looked almost even more haggard. The deep bruises under his eyes looked more prominent against his ghostly skin. The other bruises where deepening and changing color.

He looked away and stalked to the kitchen. Perhaps it was best not to see what he looked like under the clothes. The red haze was still somewhere in the back of his head and it was difficult enough to keep it there. He had, oddly enough, always seen his anger like an own living being. It was easier to control himself if he imagined putting a leash on a beast.

His father had had the same trouble as well as his grandfather. The Almasy temperament was as infamous as the name. Seriously, they had to have some defect gene. It didn’t ease his mood brooding over the matter. He ended up smashing an egg too hard against the frying pan.

For a moment the urge to throw the useless piece of metal through the apartment was so strong he had to fist the counter to keep from following the urge. Not helping. He couldn’t lose it around Squall when the youth was already as shredded as he was. It helped marginally.

Somehow the kitchen survived intact throughout the breakfast making. He contemplated bringing it in to the brunet but rethought it. Squall needed to get up anyway.

Padding back into the bedroom he noted that Squall still hadn’t moved. It felt criminal waking him up when he so obviously needed the rest. He tried being gentle about it. Stroking the brown mop of hair, teasing sensitive places under the jaw. It didn’t work. So he took away the covers, without a twitch of reaction. Seifer sighed and sat down beside the brunet.

“Squall,” he called in a normal tone.

He had to finally shake the youth. It got a sluggish response but once grey-blue eyes had parted marginally, the rest went quickly. The youth blinked hard a couple times and shifted. The move made him groan in part pain. Sleeping on one side the whole night did that to you.

“Seifer?”

The acid pain made a stab in his chest. Squall shouldn’t have to make that weak, testing question.

“Yeah, I’ve made some breakfast,” he replied lowly.

Squall slowly sat up and didn’t look at him. He looked slightly disoriented as he watched the room. The cop could see when the memories returned. He rose then and walked over to the pack of bags. There was already a pair of clothes on top of them together with Squall’s toothbrush.

“Here, you can find the bathroom, right?” he grinned but felt the strain of it.

Squall only nodded without looking at him before taking the small pile. Seifer returned to the kitchen before the acid made a hole in him.

*****

Actually, Squall wasn’t completely sure which way the bathroom lay. The brunet felt a slight panic as he watched his surroundings without a single memory of getting there. There was a white fog in his brain that he neither wanted to nor could scatter. He knew, sort of, what hid in the fog and decided that not knowing where he was, was okay since it kept other unpleasantries at bay.

By some luck he found the bathroom. It was the only other door outside the bedroom. Walking was a pain, moving period was a pain. Squall thought the pain was worth it once he had washed up, brushed his teeth with his own toothbrush and gotten his own clothes on him. His own underwear and jeans and t-shirt and his warm polo. There were even a couple of socks in the pile and he gratefully slipped them on. He had never enjoyed cold feet; it had just been something he had to live with.

Squall carefully avoided the mirror; it was enough feeling the bruises. Once he was done and somewhat more awake, he felt a sense of loss. He knew he must be in Seifer’s apartment. He knew he ought to be starving but it seemed his stomach had given up on complaining about it a long time ago. He knew he shouldn’t feel neutralized. The fog in his head was unnatural and it was even more unnatural of him to avoid poking in it. Ignorance was bliss after all.

Squall finally padded toward the coffee smell and kitchen knowing that the cop would sooner or later come looking for him. At the sight of the man his stomach knotted. Almost did the fog lift. It thinned dangerously and Squall vehemently ignored what lay in it. Seifer looked up at his silent approach and the green eyes were unreadable. Dark and searching and so uncharacteristic that the youth had to look away.

Instead he surveyed what was offered for breakfast. His hunger didn’t stir though. For a, he thought, long time they sat and stood there.

“Are you just going to watch? A lesser man would think you object to his cooking,” Seifer said calmly.

Squall twitched his lips but there was no real emotion behind it. He still went over and carefully sat down. Finally his stomach woke up again and it gurgled unhappily. Once started, Squall realized how utterly ravenous he was. Seifer had either already eaten or something, because he didn’t take more than a piece of sandwich.

For a while the only sounds was from him satiating his hunger and thirst. The energy revitalized him enough to shake some of the stupor from his head. He was very careful not to look into that fog which had almost disappeared. The memories were there, lurking like beasts in shadows and it took a tremendous amount of concentration to keep them from his consciousness.

Once finished he deemed he had been good. He had slept and eaten. He wanted to go home. What day was it? Hyne. His stomach tightened and his breathing shortened. He’d have to have been fired from both his jobs. Then again, he almost felt relieved thinking he didn’t have to go back to that afoul factory or the club. Definitely the club.

“I want to go home,” he said with a steady voice.

He looked the cop square in the eyes to impress on the man how important that was. He wanted to go home and forget this whole… thing. He wanted to meet Quistis and tell her he was sorry he hadn’t come to her or even called. He had to come up with a believable and good excuse. He wanted his bike. Perhaps he would, if he was truly fired, take a drive to the south most peak of the continent. He’d never been further away than Winhill before.

Seifer looked away. That was enough for the brunet to sense something was wrong. Then the blond rose and put away the dishes before he slowly walked over to Squall.

“Squall… You can’t stay here,” Seifer said slowly.

The youth stared up in green eyes. No, that was why he wanted to go home. A big hand took his and the other lightly stroked a thumb across his lips. The move made him dry mouthed and his heart picked up in a completely wrong manner.

“You need to leave the country.”

Squall stared at the man but saw no hint of it being a bad joke.

“I’ve booked an airplane ticket. You’re going to Esthar in two hours. Once there a friend of mine will pick you up and take you to a safe location. You’ll get a pass with a changed identity,” the cop calmly continued and let go of the youth.

Squall heard the words, saw the lips move, but he didn’t understand. It simply wasn’t processing in his brain. His ears were softly ringing and he could feel his heart pound and his breathing stock in his chest. It felt as if his brain was swelling inside his scull in effort to understand. In response he massaged his forehead.

“I’ve packed some of your things, you don’t need to worry about the apartment or your bike,” Seifer continued.

It was registering now. Just to make it more real, or surreal, Seifer put a ticked on the table in front of Squall.

“Teo is waiting downstairs, we need to leave now,” the cop said in such a final voice that Squall flinched.

Suddenly he understood too clearly. The nightmare wasn’t over. His throat was tightening.

“Wait, wait,” he almost pleaded.

He rubbed harder at his forehead since it seemed to ease the headache somewhat.

“I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to go home,” he repeated and couldn’t filter out the plea.

Big hands were on his again and he flinched.

“If you stay here Seraph will find a way to get to you.”

Squall vehemently shook his head.

“He has no reason.” His voice broke.

The fog had cruelly been scattered.

“Yes he has. He is the kind of person who kills for pleasure,” Seifer said bitterly.

Squall made a funny noise and he didn’t even realize it was him making the noise until the blond hugged him hard. Kill for pleasure. How true wasn’t that? Her eyes were swimming in his head again. Sound. Smell. Fear. Squall clutched the man’s shirt harshly while trying to stop hyperventilating.

“I don’t want to,” the youth pleaded brokenly.

Green eyes locked with his and the odd softness and pain in them was enough to make Squall give a broken sob. The hands were around his face and were drying unrealized dropped tears.

“I need you to be in Esthar. I can’t think straight when you’re here so close to that madman,” Seifer said roughly.

Squall wanted to protest further but he understood. He hadn’t thought of staying in his apartment, not really. But he had wanted to go there, to see it and to get his bike. If he only had his bike he could go anywhere and start over. He had to race again, but that didn’t matter. He nodded his head.

“Ok.”

Seifer seemed to relax some. Squall thought, when forcing himself too, that changing country could be nice. It would even be a relief to put a whole ocean between himself and that… madman. Then his suddenly sharpened brain picked up that there was only one ticket. He picked it up.

“You’re coming, right?” he asked weakly.

He thought that the cop had said things that hinted of the opposite. The gaze he received said the same. The hyperventilation was picking back up. His whole insides started screaming again.

“Squall, I have to stay behind for a while. I need to take care of things. I’ll come after you,” the cop tried but this time the panic that welled up wasn’t so easily subdued.

Squall hadn’t fully realized how much he had needed the presence of the cop. As the man tried to hug him again, Squall twisted away. Still the blond was persistent and caught his arms to keep him on the chair. The brunet fought to get free. The thought of going away on his own, being thrown out in some strange country, was terrifying. Beyond terrifying.

In the end Seifer was stronger and more persistent and Squall was again enveloped in a tight hug. It didn’t stop him from struggling or protesting.

“Why? Do you hate me? Why send me across the world? Just let me go home,” the youth whimpered.

When he wasn’t given an answer it just twisted his insides. That was it, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been more than a toy and when the toy brought home trouble it was shipped off.

“Why didn’t you just leave me there and save you the trouble?” Squall continued.

His chest was a hard, aching knot as well as his throat and head. The comment, though, made the cop take both hands around Squall’s face. The green eyes were hard and dark in an unusual way. Intense like the youth had never seen them before.

“I love you.”

Squall stared. Seifer stared straight back, green eyes unwavering. His head wanted to refuse to even acknowledge the words. They were ridicules. False. However, he saw and his subconscious or whatever it was, understood the truth in the words. Saw the unwavering conviction in green eyes and something inside him responded. Pain he had seldom felt lashed through him and made him short of breath.

He started crying and he couldn’t explain why. The emotions where tearing him apart and all he could do was shake and sob. He let the blond hold him and once allowed to hide against the broad chest he didn’t want to disentangle. He didn’t know if it was relief or some kind of happiness.

“I need you in Esthar. I’ll come after you soon enough and then we’ll find somewhere nice and quiet,” the cop murmured roughly.

The man murmured other things but it was mostly just a whistling sound in Squall’s ears. He was exhausted again. At least there were no more protests. He was back in a stupor as they made themselves ready to go. He noted that the blond had packed Squall’s two bags and backpack.

Teo was waiting in the garage but Squall didn’t greet the man when greeted. In the car Seifer hugged him close again. The youth was too tired to reflect over it and instead pressed closer and closed his eyes. Maybe it was just some freakish nightmare still. Maybe he’d wake up in his familiar bed.

That wasn’t the case. He found himself on an airport when he opened his eyes again. Squall refused to think. Refused to poke in the tangle of emotions in his chest, refused to acknowledge his memories, refused to react to his environment. He knew people stared at him and it took a while to understand why. It had to be the bruises, he mused.

The airport was large and noisy and the crowds of people where making him press closer to the only two familiar faces. Mostly he stared down in the floor or at the back of Seifer’s shoes. It felt unreal. Once they checked him in it turned completely surreal.

It was like a dream. After he couldn’t remember how he got from one place to a second. Just flashes of certain faces and places. Faces that showed concern or alarm. It all went so fast and there was no way to stop anything. Then suddenly, he was there. The crossroad. His ticket had been checked and Teo was talking to a stewardess who was keeping a morbidly concerned expression.

Squall stared up at Seifer who was watching him with those odd soft eyes. He was feeling panic grow on him again. Stop. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave. A big hand ruffled his hair.

“I’ll come after you,” the blond said softly.

Squall only nodded, then followed the smiling stewardess. He didn’t look over his shoulder because each step made his feet another ten pounds heavier. The stewardess showed him a seat by a small window. No one ever took the seat beside him. He stared blindly through the window while waiting for his life to be flown away.

The world turned dazed again. He thought it took a long time for the airplane to start moving and finally lift. He just knew that his next clear image was of the landscape being a small nice picture through the window. It was at that moment things became too real, and he was crying again. He tried to muffle his sobbing and succeeded quite well but there was nothing stopping the tears.

Then the stewardess came by and the sympathy and concern on her face just humiliated him. He looked away and tried to control himself. For Hyne’s sake, he was on an airplane with complete strangers surrounding him.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised.

She could stay away for the rest of the trip for all Squall cared. But she came back with a glass of water and a white pill. The pill made every hair stand on the youth and he watched it as if she tried to feed him poison.

“What is that?” he croaked out.

She got another wrinkle between her eyebrows of concern.

“Mr Almasy said you’d need these. It’s a sleeping pill,” she explained.

Squall accepted it because she started to look like someone being bothered. He didn’t want to be a bother or a nuisance. The pill was bliss, after all. It calmed him almost instantly. Short after he grew sleepy and easily gave into the darkness.

*****

The flight was long. He didn’t know how long though. He slept through most of it. It was really only the last hour or so that he stayed awake. The sleep had revitalized him again and he ate some of the food they served. He had to use the bathroom, of course, but it was pure humiliation.

Some passengers that he passed stared openly, others stared but then looked away. He knew what they saw. Victim. Weak.

The last hour was hell. He was worrying back and forth between too many topics. The closer they got to landing, the more he worried. Seifer loved him. That thought came circling back to him together with Seraph. But how many people hadn’t said those three words? In some form or another he had heard them before and it always cost him too much.

If he saw the blond again, what would happen? Would Seifer truly come after him? Squall shuddered. What if Seraph followed? Squall almost gave a pained moan. He couldn’t take that.

In Esthar, no one would be able to find him. He could truly disappear. That would mean he wouldn’t ever see anyone he knew ever again. His dream of an art education wouldn’t happen. Then again, perhaps it was already void since he hadn’t spoken to Quistis.

It hurt. It was almost a physical pain thinking of everything he’d lose. It almost rivaled the terror of running into a country he knew almost nothing about. He couldn’t make up his mind.

The landing was coming up and everyone was told to strap in. From there it was just a go with the flow. Everyone cleared out once they had landed and connected with the bay. Squall followed. He had his backpack on one shoulder and tried not to get jostled in the crowds. It was almost impossible and every small impact with anyone seemed to jostle some hurting part.

The speakers were blaring in a language he only knew a few phrases of. The whole place was a confusing mess of people and noises and everyone seemed to stare at him. So he started moving. He followed a couple people he recognized from the plane. They ended up by a long rolling band with bags.

Squall had to wait for what felt like forever to see his own bags. Once he had them he had lost sight of any recognizable face. So he started to wander around. It took some time but finally he thought he was at the exit. There were a lot of people leaving through the big glass doors.

He stopped then and stared. In the midst of people two black suited men stood by a wall. By the waiting benches the tall man with the long, streaked back, red hair stood. It was the man Seifer had described to him.

His stomach knotted instantly and his legs started to shake. The sudden fear, almost terror, was unexplainable. He couldn’t make himself go there. This was his second crossroad. This was his true crossroad. His eyes started burning together with his throat.

The youth easily passed the men who looked in the wrong direction. Outside there was rows of what looked like cabs. Getting one was easy, the drivers eagerly opened the car doors and trunks and Squall choose one. Once in the car he told the driver to take him to the closest larger city.

Behind him the airport diminished and finally disappeared. Behind him lay the crossroad.


The End


To be continued in “To love a cop” 2010.


I wish to thank all of you who have read this story and even more of you who has reviewed at some point in time. A work like this is made thanks to the effort opf both author and readers. I thank you all for your patience, your good pointers and support. Without you all this wouldn’t have been finished.

With me to my other stories I take the pointers about developing plot, of not forgetting those minor characters and especially that I’m the author and that I write whatever I want ;)

I will work on “Office Follies” now while I make a good structure for “To Love a Cop”. However, I promise that the first chapter will be out this year. I wish I could write full time, there’s so many stories I want to tell and I know I’ll never be able to since, well, I only have about 60 years of writing left :p

Anyhow, until we meet in the last installment of this saga, hope to see you in OF and whatever one-shot I feel for doing.

/Shehanitan