Warning: This chapter contains a scene which may not be suitable for those of a younger age. Reader discretion is advised.


Chapter 3: Of Sorrow and Redemption

Her skin felt as though it were on fire.

No, she decided a few minutes later, when the pain had amped up considerably. This was not fire. This was something much, much worse.

Sinead felt as if every single skin cell had been painstakingly pulled off her body, nerve cells still attached, and then burned slowly, where she could still feel the pain as the cells were consumed.

What happened?

Sinead was a genius and she knew that for there to be this amount of pain something awful, something terrible, something beyond cruel, certainly had to have taken place.

She racked her brain, struggling to remember.

And then, like falling Dominoes, it all came back. Amy's terrified face. Dan's warning... the rumbling as her world literally crashed down.

Sinead was suddenly scared and her body trembled. Was this hell? She remembered how nasty she'd been to poor Amy and Dan... how awful her words had been... her last words...

Another wave of pain, like heat, shimmered over her and Sinead decided that yes, this certainly had to be hell.

Scenes from her life danced across her mind. The time in third grade she'd pulled the fire alarm and framed someone else. The time she'd exploded her parents bedroom because she'd got mad, and then blamed Ned.

Ned... was he in this awful place too? Sinead hoped not. She didn't want him to have to suffer. Ned didn't deserve pain.

And Ted... god, Ted would hate the dark. She didn't want him here. She hoped, with every ounce of her being, that Ted and Ned were still alive and happy in the world. Maybe, if she didn't complain too much, God would let her see them.

Days seemed to pass, and Sinead wavered in and out of consciousness. Each waking session was worse than the time before. She heard voices, distorted as they talked over her.

Maybe they're rethinking my case...?

But no, they used medical terms that were very familar to Sinead. But... would they use medical terms in Hell?

Sinaed decided that no, they certainly wouldn't, and she realized with relief that she was still alive.

But even as her horror at being forced to burn forever faded, she realized that for her to be in this amount of pain, something was very, very wrong. However, despite her pain, she still thought of her brothers.

She awoke, a few days later, eyes opening, shocked by the bright light. It didn't take Sinead long to realize that only one of her eyes was opened. The other was covered by a giant bandage that framed the entire left side of her face.

Sinead reached up her left arm to feel, and immediately screamed in pain.

Pain like she had never felt before, worse than the pain she'd felt when she was sleeping, rocked through her body. The scream that left her lips could not be controlled, it was an animalistic, passionate moan of horror.

A nurse was there, speaking soothing words that Sinead didn't understand. "What happened to me?" She cried.

The nurse smiled sadly. "There was an accident."

"Will I be okay?" Shame flooded her. What about Ned and Ted? "Will my brothers be okay?"

Something flashed through the nurse's eyes. Sorrow? Regret?- Sinead couldn't tell. "They'll be fine. You'll all be fine. Now go back to sleep, you're tired."

"No." Sinead gestured at the bandage. "Take it off. I want to see."

"You can't." The nurse's eyes were wide.

Sinead narrowed her eyes, or rather, her one eye. "Do it or I'll do it myself."

The nurse swallowed. "I... I can't."

"You can." Sinead forced her voice as hard as possible. The nurse still didn't look convinced. She tried another tactic, "Please?"

"Well..."

Yes! Sinead thought, but it was a small victory. Did she really want to see?

"I suppose I have to change the bandages anyway," the nurse muttered, not really to Sinead, more to herself as a reassurance.

"Do it." Sinead commanded.

The nurse shook her head. "Alright. This is going to hurt."

Sinead bit her lip, fighting the pain as the nurse peeled back the bandages. Eyes closed, she willed herself not to scream at the hurt that her entire body was feeling.

The pain stopped. "Hold still." The nurse commanded. "I've got to get new bandages. Don't move, or you'll... you'll break the grafts."

Grafts?

Slowly, Sinead looked down at the rippling scars that were all that was left of the skin on her arm... and fainted.

She floated for a while, in some type of soft, dark ocean, where the only enemy was waking up and facing those horrible, nasty scars. She was conscious of being moved, felt her bed being wheeled through a noisy hallway, and so she buried herself deeper.

The screams were what awakened her. It was scream that she recognized, because it was Ned. Her eyes fluttered open for the first time in a long time, and Sinead looked at her brother, curled in his bed, face and body contorted with pain.

Down one more bed, Ted, apparantly unaware of her presence, stared at the wall. She rustled her sheets, not wanting to speak, but wanting Ted to turn and look at her. She wanted a look of comfort, a look that said, It's going to be okay.

But Ted didn't turn and look. Sinead kept staring at him, willing herself to speak, but finding herself unable.

At long last, Ted turned to fall back into bed, and Sinead saw.

His blue eyes, once bright with intelligence and sparkling with mischief, were dull and cloudy and sightless.

Sinead wanted to throw up. All this time, she'd been worrying about herself, worrying about what she'd done to herself. But in reality, her actions had crippled her entire family. She was the lucky one.

Something hardened inside her as she thought of that building, of the bomb. Whoever had planted that bomb was going to pay. Already, before the bandages were even close to coming off, Sinead began making plans to destroy the person who had destroyed her family.

Argghhh! Glass fell in a shower of tinkling merriness. But Sinead was not merry. The shattered mirror stared up at her, grotesquely showing her scarred face seventeen times instead of just one.

Sinead's left eye, while it was still open all the way, was shrouded by a scar that cut diagonally across her forehead. Makeup could only do so much. And while she could use makeup to hide the truth from others, she couldn't lie to herself. Not when the mirror spoke the ugly truth.

Ned, from the other room, cried out in a headache and Sinead fell to the floor sobbing. It had only been six months since the accident.

And now look at them. They were sorry wretches of human life. Ted was the best off; he was the strongest mentally. Ned was handicapped by his headaches and she was bombarded by herself, by the ugly monster she'd become.

She pulled herself off the floor, brushing glass and blood alike off her skin. She wished she could brush away her anguish with the same ease.

Sinead wished, more than anything, that she could go back to the time her skin was smooth, when her face was fair, and her eyes sparkled with a mischief that sent everyone to their knees in homage of the queen that she made herself to be.

But no one bowed to a broken queen, especially when the queen didn't see herself as worthy of worship.

* * *
In stunned silence, Sinead stared at the phone. Ted and Alistair had been kidnapped three days ago and she'd just received word from Amy of the ransom.

Amy, of course, always the pleaser, seemed perfectly willing to rush out and obey the every whim of this Vesper One.

Sinead didn't think that was such a good idea. There had to be a better way to ensure Ted's safety.

Steal the Medusa? It was insanity. There was no way they could pull it off. Even with such talent as Jonah Wizard, Ian Kabra, and Hamilton Holt (although there wasn't much talent there, unless you needed a football thrown) it was impossible.

Sinead wanted to rush off and rescue the hostages, all on her own, but she knew it was impossible.

She hated that about herself. Sinead had always wanted to be independent. Perhaps it was because she'd been born a triplet and her identity had always been "Oh you're one of the Starling triplets."

Sinead wanted to be her own person, not be lumped in with her brothers.

She did love her brothers dearly, more than her own life, but if she was going to die to save them, it was going to be "Sinead Starling saves her brothers' lives'," not, "Starling Triplet Dies to Save Others."

Sinead stood up, noticing the way her face looked peaked in the reflection of the window. She refused to allow herself to look weak and so she straightened out her facial features, mentally picturing that as she relaxed her muscles, she squashed out all the doubt and fear that lived inside her body.

Well, Sinead decided, while Amy and Dan attempted to hack the top security in the world she was going to find another way to save her brother.

Hours later, Sinead leaned back from her computer, satisfied. Using the Cahill files, which she knew how to use much better than Amy and Dan, and a little manipulation, she'd discovered the name of Vesper One.

Cheyenne Wyoming was always helpful if you threatened Ekat torture chambers.

Sinead shut off her computer, being sure to wipe it clean with the special USB she carried with her. She was going to the Rockies.

"You think you're going to help me?" Damien sneered. There was something about the man that unnerved Sinead, almost as if he knew her next thought before she said it. He was incredibly smart, but yet he radiated insanity.

"No." Sinead said. "You're going to help me."

Damien laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that sent chills down her spine. It was a struggle to keep her face straight, blank of any and all emotion. "Oh? I'm going to help you? Dream on, Cahill." He spoke the word with utter disgust.

Sinead straightened, acting on impulse as she always did. "I ceased being a Cahill the moment this happened." Slowly, with shaking fingers, she unbuttoned her shirt. Damien's eyes widened and Sinead felt a small surge of triumph. There. She'd shocked him, surprised him, caught him off guard. It was exactly what she needed.

The fabric slid off her shoulders and pooled at the ground. Cold air nipped at her skin and she shuddered.

Damien's eyes wandered over her body, saw the scar tissue, the cracks in her skin that would never be fully healed.

He stepped closer and knelt down. Sinead was shaking. She had no clue of what this fiend was capable. Damien's cold eyes met Sinead's and a shudder ran down her spine. Her whole upper body shivered.

Damien laughed.

Sinead wasn't exactly sure what she was thinking. If the situation had been different, she would have said she was selling herself for sex.

But she was scarred. And Damien didn't seem the type to enjoy any erotic experience anyway, even if his victim was perfect.

Suddenly Damien's cold fingers were on her chin and he tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "Who did this to you?" There was no pity in his orbs, only respect.

Sinead bit her lip. If she had been Amy, she would have said, "The Clue Hunt." But she wasn't Amy. She swallowed, "Um..."

Damien smiled and Sinead panicked, knowing the answer Damien wanted to hear, but not wanting to say it.

"Hamilton Holt." As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt sick. Eisenhower Holt would have, in technical terms, been the correct answer, but showing that she hated the kid who was working against Vesper would perhaps do something in her favor.

Laughter, sickening happiness, bubbled from Damien's lips. "Of course."

Sinead didn't offer any information. She stayed where she was, kneeled on the floor in front of the man who was her only hope.

Damien's hand reached out and touched her bra strap, snapping it against the scar tissue on her shoulder. Sinead winced.

"Take it off."

Sinead looked up, shocked. Was he...?

Swallowing bile, yet nodding obediently, she undid the hooks in the back and let the creamy fabric fall to the floor.

Her left breast was almost gone. It had been reduced to a mass of scars and the wreckage of plastic surgery. Her right breast was scarred too, but the nipple was still normal, at least.

Sinead hated the way his eyes roved over her body, examing her like she was an animal. Like he was an animal. Which, to be fair, he probably was.

She forced herself to keep her mind steady. For Ted. For Ned. For all of them. For herself.

Amy's voice, her laugh, flashed briefly across Sinead's memory but she stomped it down.

Damien's hand closed over her left breast. "It's a deal." He said. "Do you know why I agreed to your terms?"

Sinead shook her head. It was the truth, for once. She actually had no idea. Her body was ugly, it wasn't as if there was much to offer. The jab about Hamilton could only go so far.

Damien leaned in close, his hand still heavy on her breast, his breath hot in her shredded ear. "Because I like scarred people."

Sinead started to cry.

Three years later, they were still in self-exile. Sinead didn't know if she would ever have the courage to face Amy again.

Yes, she'd helped them beat the Vespers. But one right doesn't fix a wrong-especially a wrong as evil as the wrong she had commited.

Sinead didn't really know who she was anymore. She ran her fingers down her scarred arms, feeling the flesh that had once been smooth. She wasn't really sure if she'd known who she was since the Incident.

The door opened and Sinead stood up hurriedly, ashamed for whichever brother it was to see her so weak.

It was Ted.

"Why'd you stand up so quickly?" He asked.

Sinead laughed. "You startled me, that's all."

Ted didn't seem convinced but he nodded. Sinead wasn't sure whether she should be irritated or not. It seemed that her brothers wanted to protect themselves from her just as much as she wanted to protect them for who she had become. "Wanna play a game?" Ted asked, voice light.

"A game?" They hadn't played games since they were children, unless of course, you counted manipulation and deceit and the clue hunt and the Vespers and murder.

Sinead swallowed, suddenly realizing she didn't like who'd she'd become. She had wanted to become scientist, journalist, renowned researcher and professor. Instead she'd become Liar, Manipulator, Thief and Betrayer.

"Call me Benedict Arnold." She muttered sorrowfully.

"What was that?" Ted asked.

Sinead forced a smile into her voice. "Oh, nothing. What game were you thinking?"

She awoke, not surprised at all to see that it was pitch black. God, she never woke up at a decent hour anymore.

Sinead felt sick, like something horrible was in her stomach and she wanted to throw it all up, rid herself of the poison. But regret could not be rid of quite so easily.

Her sheets were soaked with sweat. Disgusted, she rose and stripped the bed of the stinking, sopping material, dropping it onto the floor. Moist fabric brushed at her feet and she shivered, suddenly cold.

Sorrow was fickle. Sinead wasn't sure whether it wanted to manifest itself in tears or in screams and fits of anger. Sometimes all she felt was the overwhelming urge to throw something, to hear the sound of glass shattering, to watch her own skin break as she clawed at herself... she deserved it, for what she'd done. Other times she just wanted to sit quietly and stare with sightless, seeing eyes.

Ted understood her. Well, Sinead supposed both of her brothers understood her. When she wanted to sit down and stare out the window, she went to Ted and two of them sat in total silence, relishing the sound of the other's breaths.

Once, she'd broken down, sobbing for all she was worth, and Ted had taken her hand and said, "Sometimes it's good to open your eyes and look again." Sinead had realized then what Ted meant. He couldn't see, but he'd forgiven her, because he'd taken a second look at circumstances.

She went to Ned when she was angry. Pain and anger seemed to go hand in hand almost as well as pain and sorrow. Ned, fighting headaches, seemed to have an endless amount of distractions.

One time, when she was nearly ready to break the window, Ned had stood up, despite the pain he was in, and handed her a bouncy ball. It's vibrant colors had been exactly what Sinead did not want and she'd pitched it across the room, animalistic passions delighting in the way the ball absorbed her emotions so effortlessly. She'd thrown the ball again and again, and Ned had smiled himself to sleep.

Sinead suddenly realized she was freezing. Somehow she was completely naked and she reached down and picked up the robe she must have pitched in the middle of the night. Wrapping the soft fabric about her body, she went to the window, staring out at the moon.

Cold light shone down on the tiny alley that she had begun to call home. On impulse, Sinead gathered the robe tighter about her and walked towards the front door. She wanted to be bathed in that light.

It was unlike the sun, which was so cheerful and vibrant and screamed raw happiness. The moon's light was chilly, with a hint of somberness. It had no worth by itself, and so it reflected the sun's light, but as a final twist of irony, distorted the bright beams into an icy reflection. Sinead loved it.

The air was cold, but held a hint of warmth, and it brushed delightfully against Sinead's cheeks and bare legs. She wanted that feeling on her whole body, and since the street was quiet, she slipped out of her robe and stood naked in the moonlight. (Besides, she reasoned, if anyone was to see her, what did it matter? She was scarred and ugly and they all knew that)

The breeze kissed her skin, feeling like spring after a long, brutal winter. Sinead shivered, not because she was cold, but because the sensation was amazing. Turning her eyes up to the moon, she whispered, "Thank you."

Half an hour later, Sinead slipped back into her room and fell asleep on the floor, cocooned in her dirty sheets.

The next morning, Sinead decided to do something she hadn't done for a long time-wear a dress. She had the perfect dress in the back of her mind.

It was a flowy sundress, made of silk and something else so that it flowed like water, pooling about her knees in a lacy hem. White flowers danced across the light pink fabric and Sinead felt like she was ten years younger when she slipped it over her head.

There was just one problem: The dress was sleeveless.

It felt like balm to her skin, but she felt uncomfortable. The dress looked too pretty for someone as scarred as herself.

But no, she decided, she was going to wear it, despite the awkwardness she felt. The dress was too pretty to be wasted in the back of her closet and Ted and Ned already knew about her scars. No one would visit them. No one ever did. She was safe.

Sinead hated that she felt like she needed to hide from the world, hide her disabled brothers and her scarred self. Sometimes a great exhaustion washed over her as she thought about the secluded life they lived.

She only went out if it was absolutely necessary, and when she did, it was with great reluctance. She hated the second glances, the outright stares from little children, she hated it all. Sinead felt as if the whole human race was there to shame her and her scars.

Sinead went downstairs and Ned looked up from the book he was reading, Gears and Gadgets: Clockwork Explained. A smile crossed his face. "You look pretty." He said.

Sinead swallowed. "Thank you."

Ted, on the couch next to Ned, stared off into space, sullen. Sinead wasn't sure if it was because he was deep in thought or because he wished that he could see Sinead. Maybe it was both.

Ned turned to Ted. "Sinead looks lovely." Of course Ned knew what Ted was thinking. The brothers shared a special bond, something that sometimes made Sinead feel as if she was just an observer, as if she didn't really know them at all.

"She's wearing a silk dress and there's flowers splattered all over it." Ned said. "She looks like Mom."

Ted smiled. "You should curl your hair." Ned nodded in agreement.

Sinead blinked. Were her brothers giving her ... fashion advice?

It was something they'd done a lot, back before... before the Clue Hunt. Before the mess of insanity and horrible luck that had torn their family apart.

"You always look pretty with your hair curled." Ned added. There was something in his voice that made Sinead realize he wanted her hair curled. She knew it would be a flashback to happier times.

But curling irons made her nervous. They had the potential to burn... to scar... to destroy. Sinead knew, however, that the boys wanted her to do it. And so she smiled, forcing happiness into her eyes. "Alright." She said. "I'll curl my hair. I think I even have some of that perfume Mom gave me."

An hour later, Sinead had applied a light coat of mascara and blush and her hair fell in soft waves down her back. She did, now that she thought about it, remember loving her hair. It was slightly reddish, with a golden hue that shone in the sunlight.

She stepped downstairs. "Ta-da!" Ned looked up and the smile on his face sent rays of warmth to Sinead's heart.

Ted smiled too. "That perfume makes me happy."

Sinead realized, suddenly, that it made her happy too. She stared at the potted orchid plant Ned had got her, at its bright petals and leaves that soaked up the sun through the window. The orchid bloomed wherever it was planted, despite all circumstances. Why couldn't she do the same?

But then there was a knock on her door. The three of them turned towards it, quizical as to who could possibly be calling on them.

Sinead had practically chased all her neighbors away. Whenever they had attempted to visit her, she had been chilly and stand-offish. Eventually, the visits had stopped.

Ned shrugged. "I'll get it."

"No." Sinead said, feeling as if she could conquer the world. "I think I'll do it." She grinned at her brothers, feeling sad that only Ned could see her. "I didn't put this all on for nothing."

The knock came again, more urgent, and Sinead hurried towards it. "I'm coming!" She trilled, pasting on the happy look she'd used in highschool. She swung the door open and the smile vanished, and a cold knot of fear twisted in her stomach instead.

Amy Cahill stood in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Hey." Amy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ned and Ted were suddenly at her side and Sinead tried to speak. Her throat seemed sticky and dry and she swallowed desperately. "Hi." She croaked. Ned placed his hand on her back and it was solid and comforting, a spark of stability.

Amy smiled. "It's good to see you."

Sinead nodded, guilt rushing through her. Amy... the girl who always had a kind word. Amy, who'd been Sinead's only true friend, and who Sinead had betrayed. Amy, who'd sacrificed herself so many times for her family, her friends, and the fate of the world. Amy, who despite all the circumstances, had been strong and true to herself.

"Likewise." Ted said, extending a hand out for Amy to shake.

Amy shook it, smiling warmly and looking Ted right in the face, despite the fact that he couldn't see. She shook Ned's hand next, and then extended her hand to Sinead.

Sinead stared at the hand which she had betrayed. Those hands... swallowing, she reached out and shook Amy's hand, feeling tears well at the back of her eyes. "I'm so sorry." She was suddenly crying, tears running down her cheeks and smudging the makeup which, only a few minutes ago, had made her feel strong and confident.

Amy looked at Sinead. "I know you are." She said. "And I knew why you did it. I forgave you a long time ago."

Sinead's dress rustled softly in the warm breeze that playfully rushed about them. Her hair blew across her face, clinging to her sticky cheeks. Amy reached up, and wiped the hair away. Her fingers crossed over the left side of Sinead's face. Where all the scars were.

Sinead expected revulsion, or pity at the very least. But there was none. Amy's eyes were firm as she gazed into Sinead's. "I'm here to tell you we want you to come back."

"But..."

"But nothing." Amy said.

Sinead realized Ned and Ted were gone. They knew it was her battle, her hurt and pain, and she respected that they'd left. But still, she felt lonely without them. They were her backbone. They were the reason she kept going, kept loving, kept breathing.

But they were also the reason she'd betrayed her family. Sinead had become a betrayer in their absence, it was only fitting that she should make things right without them there.

Sniffing, Sinead wailed, "I'm so sorry! I only wanted to keep Ted and Ned safe. They're my life and after what happened at the Franklin Institute, I realized how much I needed them." Sinead spoke from her heart. For once, instead of choosing her words carefully, she bared her heart and soul to Amy and poured everything before her. "I went to Vesper One because I was sure you were going to lose, and they were all going to die. I couldn't stand that thought, and so I..." she paused, wiping snot and tears from her face, "I teamed up with Damien."

Sinead looked up to see Amy's eyes, intently peering into hers. "I know." Amy said. "Sinead," Amy paused, swallowing, and Sinead saw her own grief reflected in Amy's jade eyes, "Sinead, I would have done the same thing, if... if Dan had been the one. I would have given up everything, even my own life, just like I know you would have."

Sinead nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She was embarrassed to be crying. She'd always made a stand to be strong and emotionless. For her brothers. But maybe... maybe a little emotion wasn't bad. Some of the time.

Memories flashed across her mind. The tiny gun. The way she'd almost killed Amy by choking her. How much information she'd given to Vesper One. The look of utter defeat and horror in Amy's eyes when the message from Evan had come in...

And suddenly Amy was hugging her. Her embrace was familar to Sinead. They used to be best friends after all. Amy was the best friend Sinead had ever had. Her presence in Sinead's life was like sugar, sweet and, you could never get enough of it. Sinead found herself hugging Amy back and complete and total relief washed across her.

Amy was crying too, and she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "God, I have so much to tell you..."

Sinead couldn't help herself. "You aren't worried I'll tell Vesper One?" It was supposed to be funny, but instead, it came out sounding like a croak. But still, Amy brought out her dry humor. Sinead didn't remember the last time she'd made a joke that insulted herself.

Amy was laughing now and Sinead cracked a small smile. Ned and Ted were suddenly at the door, and Ted's eyes, blank though they were, held a light that she hadn't seen since... Sinead didn't remember when.

Amy must have seen the look that passed between the triplets, so she awkwardly backed out the door. "I, uh, was just in the area." She said. "I wanted to see how you were doing." She pressed a note into Sinead's hand, which Sinead saw contained her email and phone number.

Sinead nodded, glad for Amy to be leaving. She needed time alone with her brothers. Time when she wasn't hiding from herself, from her scars and her grievances against the world.

The night was warm, the kind of night that smelled faintly of honeysuckle and good memories. Sinead sat between her brothers, feeling content for the first time in a long while.

Night air brushed gently at her face. Scars spread across her cheeks like shadows, but for once, Sinead didn't feel the need to hide. Scars didn't matter, as long as the people you loved most where at your side.

Ted's hand reached out and brushed Sinead's shoulder. "How are you?" He asked.

Sinead bit her lip, wondering what the best way was to answer. She felt a sense of sweet peace, a calm like the calm of the twinkling stars and she sighed contentedly. "I'm wonderful." She muttered.

She looked up, meeting Ned's gaze and a smile crept across her face. "I'm back." She said. "I think we all are now, and I'm sorry it took me so long."

Ted cleared his throat; Sinead felt he was unsure of what he wanted to say. "Say it." She prodded.

Ted swallowed, "It's okay." He said. "We would have waited. You... you sacrificed for us too."

Sinead smiled sadly. Yes, indeed she had sacrificed, but now her mistakes were forgiven. Redemption, blissful, joyous redemption, was hers.

The light of the moon shone down on Ted's face. It was Ned who had insisted that if Ted didn't need a light to outside at night, neither did they. Sinead was happy for it.

They were what others would consider freaks-a scarred genius, a plucky blind teen, and a boy who swallowed Tylenol like others swallowed water.

But Sinead didn't mind. They had each other, and they had their extended family. Her fingers reached out and plucked a flower from a nearby branch. Delicate petals, smooth as silk, brushed against her face as she tucked the flower behind her ear.

"Does anyone want tomato juice?" Sinead asked.


Hehe I don't know what it is about the tomato juice, but I can totallyyyy see the Starlings liking it...

anyway

I am actually very uneasy about this chapter. I have edited it a million times, working and reworking it, and it... ARGH IT'S JUST NOT RIGHT

But I think it's okay, because there's something about the whole Starling triplet bond thing that leaves something in my heart and soul... it makes me want to cry and laugh all at the same time because their story is so beautiful yet bittersweet at the same time.

Last night, I completely reread the entire Cahills vs Vespers series and I am exhausted. But dang did it give me some more ideas for fanfics...

Also I am taking requests. If there's a story that you would like to see, go ahead and give me a PM, and we can chat about it.

Another thing, please, please, please... tell me what you thought of this chapter, I'm... argh i'm just so unsure.

Reviews would be much appreciated!

Show me your love y'all 3

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