..."Lucrecia"...

Her face faded in and out of his memory, dim and shadowed with each passing nightmare. A tickle of a past he never wanted... Then he heard a voice in a corner of his mind. A voice with a tremble. A voice with a touch of joy and a smile. That voice forbade the face of his past hell from coming.

Vincent beckoned to the darkness again, but it didn't come as completely as before. It was different. Finally, Vincent conceded defeat and allowed the voice to create the nightmare.

It began with a shaded forest and a sunny, warm afternoon. The Sleeping Forest. Vincent hesitantly stepped forward, looking intently for the owner of the voice that continued to tell stories of history interwoven with fun and discovered mysteries. There was a melodious ring of laughter, and a shadow passed behind a tree. Vincent moved toward it without realizing he did so.

"Lucrecia?" he called.

The laughter stopped, and the warmth of the forest drifted to a sudden chill. The abrupt change made Vincent's stomach tighten. He stepped forward when the shadow passed behind another tree, reaching that tree just as the shadow passed behind another.

"Wait! Where are you going? What do you want from me?"

He heard a soft cry of sorrow and moved toward the sound. There was only emptiness and forest. Vincent searched, his movements quick and jerky. A deep, hidden part of him wanted this shadow, but he didn't know where to search. Or by what name to call to it, even though that 'something' had him by the very soul and refused to release it's grip.

"Please. Forgive me," the shadow whispered on the breeze.

Vincent stepped out into the open, looking to the canopy of the trees in hopes he would find it. It was gone, and only the murmur of its continued tears remained behind; the cold tears of mourning.

"Forgive you? Forgive you of what? Who are you?"

The forest scene faded to blackness and the silence began to eat at his sanity...

Natalie stared at the Shinra mansion for a long time before finally deciding to go in. Her throat constricted, a warning to the tears lurking under her emotional surface, and she cleared her throat as she climbed the stairs to the room that would lead to the spiral staircase. Okay, Nat. You can do this. Sure, communication isn't your thing, but how hard can it be? Not too hard if he was in the box. She could say anything to the box. If he was just sitting on it, though...

Natalie cleared her throat again, steering her mind quickly away from any hint of what could or could not be.

As she made her way down the staircase and down the corridor her pace began to slow and her thoughts came more and more quickly. No. I can't stop. I promised myself that I would honestly try. In everything. He deserves that chance at least. She came to stand outside the door to his tomb and simply stared at the door. So what are you going to do? Pretend you don't see the agony on his face with each failure? That's not an option, and you know it.

She took in a slow breath and opened the door, closing it very softly behind her. His coffin was closed, but there was something heavy and distraught in the air. It wasn't the same. It was almost suffocating in its intensity. Okay, Nat. You have to decide. Do you keep on? Or do you... Do you stop?

Natalie shook her head, lifting her hands to hide her face.

"Vincent, I don't know what to do," she said, voice muffled through her hands. "I meant to talk to you before, but I didn't know how. I don't do well in situations like this. It's always been a fault of mine, preferring to bury my head in my work rather than face the problem and deal with it.

The silent intensity lessened to suspicious listening.

Natalie lowered her hands and focused glimmering green eyes on the coffin. "I more than likely could have saved myself some confrontations while working at Bone Village if I had chosen to speak before the situation got out of hand. They were ugly; let me tell you that right away. That was one of the reasons I left the dig so many times."

The silence itched at her brain, and she lowered her gaze to the absent kicking of her booted toes against the crypt floor. "It wasn't completely my fault," she continued. "The head digger was a bone-head, no pun intended. The last straw was when he would go tromping around the dig site in those god-awful shoes of his and then be as mad as a who-knows-what when something showed up with a fresh break. Blamed us every time. Well, I finally had enough. I stomped right up to him and told him what for. He was so busy trying to think of a comeback that wouldn't make him look like an idiot that I was able to pack up and leave. He still hadn't said anything by the time I walked past him." She smirked. "You should have seen the look on his face!"

"Lucrecia?"

The smile vanished and she looked sharply toward the coffin, face pale. Is that all I am to him? A memory of her because I knew her once? Because I'm a scientist like she was? Natalie dropped her head and clenched her hands together. I should have known better. They had something special, and she'll always be in his memories because of how he feels responsible... She shook her head. It's too late, Nat. It's too late.

Natalie turned for the door, a tear escaping her control.

"Wait. Where are you going? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"I..." Natalie's voice broke off, and she swallowed hard. She didn't even know. Did she want him to satisfy her seemingly impossible romantic dreams? Did she want him to need her? Or did she simply want to have him indebted to her in a way he wouldn't be indebted to anyone else. She shook her head. I can't do that to him. It's not fair. No one should have that kind of control over somebody else. Natalie, you've been taking advantage of him.

A sob broke through her reserve as she rushed again toward the door, fumbling with the handle with both hands before finally yanking it open. Her eyes had already so filled with tears that she couldn't see the coffin as she glanced toward it with a yearning expression. "Please. Forgive me."

She pulled the door shut and ran down the corridor, tears dropping from her cheeks to the floor below.

...Vincent pushed off the cover, sitting up with a gasp as he gripped the sides of his coffin. The room was empty, and no shadow hovered on the other side of the door. No voice whispered. No laughter sounded. No tears were shed. Vincent vaulted from the coffin to open the door of the room with a feeling of desperation. The hallway was empty-- There!

Vincent bolted for the staircase as the footsteps became more and more faint. The room at the top of the spiral staircase was empty, as were the room and hallway beyond. Dread rose up to choke him, and he fought it back as he hurried down the main staircase to the front doors of the Mansion. The walkway empty; the gate securely closed.

Vincent slowly stepped forward. His eyes narrowed as they examined all. No shadows. He had almost turned away when he heard a door shut. He raised his head sharply and vaulted into the air, hovering quite still as he attempted to gauge from which direction it had come.

The inn.

Vincent dropped to the ground. The inn. He clenched his jaw and turned away, but he couldn't move toward the door of the Mansion. If the shadow from the strange nightmare was Natalie... What does that mean? How could she have entered that place where only I go? How could she have controlled what I saw? How could she have heard my questions?

The sound of the door opening again made him stiffen, but he still couldn't move. Then there were footsteps coming closer... closer... closer... They stopped. The footsteps began again, more hesitant this time, and halted directly behind him.

"I've come to say good-bye."

Vincent turned sharply. Natalie stood a mere foot away. Her curls tousled, her cheeks wet, and her eyes red with crying. "Why?"

Natalie looked down, making a slight gesture with trembling hands. "I'm.... I should have known better than to..." Natalie covered her lips when a sob broke free, and she turned away. "It's better if I go," she finished in a choked voice.

Panic flickered, bombarding his hope with terror. "No. It isn't."

"Yes, it is. If I go, you can sleep and not worry about life. It's easier. I... I can't do this anymore." Her voice faded into tears.

"Why?"

Natalie wiped the tears from her face and lifted her chin, straightening her shoulders as she faced him. Her green eyes glimmered as they held his amber ones. "Because it might not work. Because it might work. And if it does? What if my theory doesn't? What if... You might die."

"My death would be better than living the remainder of my existence in that box."

"But I don't want you to die," Natalie cried, her hands stretched out in front of her. "Can't you see that? If it didn't work, I could live with that. At least you'd be here. Breathing. Dreaming. But if I killed you..." She shook her head as she lowered her hands. "I... I couldn't live with that."

Vincent regarded her. "It doesn't matter if I die--"

"It does matter!" Natalie protested. She took a firm hold of each of his arms as she stared up into his red eyes. She gave him a shake. "Dammit, Vincent, it matters to me!"

Vincent's eyes glowed. "Then do it."

Natalie cringed and released her hold on him, turning away as her voice choked on a sob.

Myriads of arguments and fears pulled Vincent back, but he shrugged them off and stepped after her. Unfamiliar emotions of uncertainty and fear bombarded him as he gently placed his hands on her arms to turn her to face him.

"I couldn't save Lucrecia, and that haunts me. If you leave without attempting to save me, your life will become a collection of regrets and bitter suppositions. Doubts will plague you. Self-hatred will darken you until you won't resemble, in the least, what you once were."

Natalie closed her eyes, tears again cascading down her cheeks. "But if you die..."

"It will not be death, Natalie," he pressed. "It will be freedom."

Natalie choked on another sob. Then she stepped forward to envelop him in a firm embrace, pressing her cheek firmly against his chest. Vincent stood solemnly still for a long moment before wrapping his own arms around her, remembering a similar embrace witnessed. Shared between Lucrecia and Hojo.

Vincent clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, violently pushing away the memory. "I've waited too long..." Vincent's voice surprised him. It wasn't cold and distant. There was a quiver of emotion. A hint of tightness.

Natalie raised her eyes slowly to meet his. Dread and terror shone in her gaze. Then Vincent saw a flash of panic as Natalie pushed away. He held her arms.

"Please," Natalie said in a desperate tone as she wriggled her arms within his firm grasp. "Let me go. Please."

Vincent examined her face in confusion.

"Please, Vincent. Let me go." Natalie's voice trembled with fresh tears. "I can't do this. I can't..."

"Do what?"

"I don't want to hurt you! I... I-I can't lo--" Natalie's mouth clicked shut as her face paled to a soft shade of yellow and her movements ceased. Her eyes glazed, and her arms went limp.

Again, Vincent didn't understand the reaction. She looked as if she would retch. He cupped her chin with his one normal hand, and her glossy eyes met his. He examined her expression with confusion and a growing irritation. "What is the matter with you? Is caring for me so despicable that you must run and hide at the first hint of tender feelings shared? Am I such a monster?"

No reaction.

Vincent pushed her away. Natalie stumbled back a step, her body now rigid. His rage grew to spark in his eyes, and they glowed a dangerous shade of crimson. "You woke me, woman, and now you play me for a fool? Was it your intention to toy with me as a cat with the mouse before tasting its blood? Did you wish to see how vulnerable I would permit myself to become before I allowed you to splice and manipulate that which truly holds your interest?"

Natalie's shade of yellow became green.

"I've come from my coffin for your experiment only to be chased back by the very brand of scientist who made that black sarcophagus my home. Have you no defense? Nothing to say?"

Natalie crumpled to her knees, vomiting so fiercely that she convulsed with each wave of nausea and coughed after each vicious retch. Vincent knelt, the rage passing to reveal the fear that had fed it. He steadied her as she gagged, doing his best to comfort her through the waves even when nothing surfaced but air and deep-seeded misery. When the fit passed, her skin felt chalky and clammy as she muttered nonsensical phrases. She could barely hold her head up as she collapsed against him.

Vincent clenched his jaw as he held her. "Dammit, woman, I've waited for someone... for anyone to care about the hell I eagerly fled to each night. Don't leave me now," he muttered.

"I-I'm sorry," she murmured, her hand clutching a portion of his black silk shirt. "I didn't mean to. I-I didn't know... I didn't know what I was doing. It was the dream. I know it was. I was scared. I'm always scared. I don't want to be scared anymore."

Natalie murmured similar phrases as she sunk further into a type of delirium so hauntingly familiar. Tremors came in waves throughout her entire body, and her teeth began to chatter so violently that he thought they might break. Vincent unclasped his cape and wrapped her into it, gently lifting her to carry her to the inn.

He made his way upstairs and into her room, carefully placing her under the covers of her bed and adjusting them around her trembling form.

A basin of water stood on the dresser to the right of the bed. Vincent soaked a rag and wiped the bile from her mouth. The action drew Natalie's attention, making her eyes flutter open. She smiled briefly, and then she moaned as her eyes rolled back in her head. Vincent clenched his jaw and tossed the rag into the basin.

"It was the dream," Natalie mumbled again and again. "You always do in the dream. I was scared. I don't want to be scared anymore. If you just say that, I won't be scared anymore. I didn't know you were going to say that. It scared me."

Helplessness rose within Vincent as he watched her greenish face twist into hundreds of expressions. From fear to happiness to agony and back again. He leaned forward, resting his hands against the bed as he continued to watch her. "And so you dream of me. What life have you had that makes you care for a monster? What kindness blossoms within that makes you want to put right this blackened soul? Why do you so desire to save me?"

Natalie rocked her head from side to side as her hands occasionally flew outward to grope the air, searching for something that would seemingly give her peace. Vincent caught it with his human hand, but her hand fluttered within his grasp like a butterfly, ceasing only after several failed attempts at freedom. His claw carefully smoothed her now damp curls from her face. Once, he allowed himself to caress her cheek. When he did so, Natalie sucked in a breath as her head ceased its rapid movement from side to side.

"Vincent, we need to talk," she choked out.

The sudden clarity of speech surprised him. He examined her expression. Natalie's eyes were still closed, drifting rapidly from side to side under her lashes. "About?"

"About us."

Intrigue blossomed. "Us?" A sudden sense of fear radiated from her, and Vincent again caressed her cheek in an effort to soothe it. "What needs to be said that makes you afraid?"

Natalie's countenance firmed. "I can't see you anymore."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Vincent smoothed more curls from her face, watching her expressions with an odd and twisted sense of awe at their complexity. Then a continued spark of fear caught his attention. "You fear yourself," he realized.

Natalie rolled over, pulling her hand from his grasp to wrap her arms around her. "It just wouldn't work, Vincent. I care about you, yes, but..."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. Another confession of care. Another wave of fear that preceded and followed it, just as before. "But?"

"I don't know anymore. I'm just so afraid."

And that Vincent understood that fear birthed an unexpected emotion of compassion, warming his normally cold soul as he leaned toward her ear. "It's all right to be afraid," he whispered. "Aren't we all, at one point or another?"

Natalie rolled onto her back again, turning her head toward him with an air of expectancy. Vincent examined her expression in confusion. After a moment or two, the expectancy dwindled to leave regret and sadness. Natalie turned her head away, and her face twisted in an agonized frown. Her spirit seemed to distance itself from him.

Vincent took hold of her hand. It fluttered within his grasp.

"No. It's not supposed to be like that. Something's wrong. He's not here. Where are you? Vincent? Vincent?" Her head twisted from side to side and, this time, her entire body began to writhe.

"I'm here."

Natalie's eyes fluttered open. Her color became less green. "Vincent?"

"Yes."

Natalie smiled groggily, rolling onto her side as she pulled his hand to her cheek resting on the pillow. She closed her eyes. "You were supposed to kiss me. You always do. Always."

Vincent analyzed her face. Her pallor was much improved, but she still seemed to drift from dreamworld to reality and back again. It seemed the only way to release her from the dream was to finish it. Vincent hesitated. There had been no woman after Lucrecia. He brushed a clawed finger lightly across Natalie's forehead, again noticing she didn't cringe from the touch... He leaned forward and cautiously touched her lips with his.

Vincent took in a breath of surprise at the rush of emotional freedom caused by the soft and warm touch. He pulled back to stare down at her in shock. Natalie wore a simple smile as she slept.

"I have found the tool for my cure, then. Or rather, you found me. Fool that I am, I would have chased you away with my rage. But... But you didn't run. You faced me in my darkest fury and reacted this way. Your broken heart doing this." He tightened his grip on her hand. "Will you be my cure? Or my will you simply be a release from this curse to a final blackness?"

Natalie's eyes slowly opened. She met his gaze and sleepily smiled, bringing up a hand to brush his hair from his face. "I won't leave," she whispered. She yawned suddenly and nestled her cheek against his hand once again. "I won't leave until I cure you."

"Sleep now. The cure will wait."

Natalie yawned again. "I love you, Vincent. Don't forget that," she murmured.

Vincent cringed. Then he closed his eyes, shaking his head as he lowered his chin. How could he forget a spoken doom?

Vincent adjusted his perch on the top of the partially dismantled Mako reactor nestled on the summit of Mt. Nibel. A storm rumbled and sparked in the distance causing Vincent's scowl to darken. All dangerous subjects were kept in the background, safely aloof. His only thoughts were of the coming storm that evening and the rain that would again come to freshen the planet. Occasionally, a snippet of a statement or a tickle of her laugh would slip through the tight control. Vincent would tense, harshly pushing it away with a toss of his head.

Confusion goaded him to anger, but he knew it served to protect him.

Vincent clenched his jaw. Fear had never been a part of his life before. Not as a Turk, and not as a-- Vincent flinched, changing his dark gaze to the dented metal on which he crouched. Natalie's questions and statements always went too readily to what he normally kept hidden. The reliving of it, with her so close and listening, was something he hadn't ever experienced. Not since Lucrecia. Maybe not even then. His memories of that time had long since faded into an odd oblivion.

Natalie listened so intently, with the heartbreak for what he'd undergone clearly brimming in her green eyes. The compassion. The understanding. Did I ever receive those while in the service of Shinra? Did the victims of Shinra's 'justice' ever look at me as she had? With empathy and... And something he was afraid to remember. A collection of words spoken.

Vincent clenched his claw into a fist, staring down at it with an empty expression. She didn't flinch. Again and again, she didn't flinch. Has anyone done that but her?

So many times, when Vincent had touched her with the artificial claw, Natalie hadn't given even a remote sign of disgust. Instead, there had been acceptance and something more. Some expression of instantaneous normalcy had glittered in her eyes, as if she had missed that aspect of her life to suddenly find it--

A fragment of her voice drifted past the walls of his existence, and he grasped it. 'I've been looking for you too long to turn away now,' she had said. 'I love you, Vincent. Don't forget that.' Yes. She said that too, while drifting on the end of a dream.

Vincent looked up, gazing at the evening sky with narrowed eyes. How can loving me be anything but a nightmare?

Vincent stood sharply, leaping from roof section to roof section with a grace and ease that had become second nature. He landed on the ground below, a puff of dust rising from his boots as he remained crouched. With each attempt to dismantle his confusion, it doubled. It only lessened when she listened to his words and dug deeper to another hidden meaning.

Vincent grumbled under his breath before slowly straightening and making his way toward the door that would lead him from the summit of Mt. Nibel. Away from the summit, yes, but toward his greatest fear.

Her.

Natalie Long would very likely be his salvation. But in what way? In the reverting to his original form? Or in the softening of the guilt and shame? Vincent clenched his jaw. Why should I fight that which I want? That is the question I voiced, and the question that doomed me. She is too naïve. Too innocent of the world. She doesn't understand. She never will.

Yet the open expression in her eyes belied the statement he so desperately wanted to believe. After all, if he believed she would never understand, wouldn't that make it easier for him to hide himself away? To deny his desire and bury himself from the reminders of the normal life that had once been his? She seemed so willing to give it to him. So eager to tap into his very heart and soul because she was convinced they held the key to her own purpose.

Purpose. Didn't I once have that luxury? Now he had nothing but the interest of a love-starved professor infatuated with the mystery that surrounded his existence. A mystery she understood. A mystery she relished as an adventure in life... Had anyone ever delighted in any aspect of his existence?

Vincent grumbled again, annoyed that his mind led him in circles. Giving him no peace in the action. Will peace be waiting for me if I return? It was highly unlikely. Peace retreated each time he watched her expression. There was only confusion and an intoxicating addiction to watch the emotions dance across her face. That had chased him away from her side as she slept, safely hidden within a dream.

That and the overwhelming desire to again touch her warm lips.

And again...

...And again...

Vincent pushed away the cannibalistic thoughts with a ferocious toss of his head. She won't remember. It was only a dream. Something that will have faded with the dawning of the new day. Some future hope that she believes will never come.

Bittersweet. Kindling hope. Feeding dread.

But how could he draw her close when it could mean another life hurt? If I should die... she herself said she couldn't bear it. But it was too late. He saw the hold he had on her. Each time she said his name, the tenderness was there. Each time she saw his face and held his gaze, the devotion was there amidst her fear at the power of her emotion. To turn away from that would wound her sensitive heart as much as that of his death.

Why not surrender?

Vincent's dread rose again, but he beat it back. Perhaps the cure to my existence isn't so much in the discovery of a way to take back my former life, but in the acceptance of a seemingly impossible attraction. Maybe the way to cure me is to.... Vincent felt the blood drain from his face. The question lingered, hovering in every aspect of who and what he was as he attempted to ignore not only its continuing presence, but also the silence the question brought to his mind.

*

A slight movement by the window caught her attention. Vincent stood staring across the scenery of Nibelheim, arms crossed.

Natalie sat up in surprise. "Oh!" Vincent turned his face toward her. His amber eyes were guarded.

Natalie flushed. "I didn't expect to see you. Not after... well, you know."

"Yes."

Natalie cleared her throat as she lowered her gaze to her hands.

"Natalie."

Natalie's eyes widened. Oh dear God, he said my name. She slowly turned her head toward him. He still stood by the window. His arms still crossed. His eyes still guarded. But there was something different about his expression. "Y-Yes?"

"What do you remember?"

"I said that..." No lies. "I said that I couldn't keep trying to fix the generator. I said... I said it matters to me what happens to you. I... I think I remember you got angry with me." She lowered her eyes again. "I remember a lot of things. What exactly did you want me to remember?"

"What happened here?" he pressed.

Natalie cleared her throat. "I remember I had an interview. I remember... I remember you weren't here to share the laughter." Vincent didn't respond, so she forced herself to raise her eyes. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Vincent."

"You don't remember what happened after our conversation outside Shinra Mansion?"

Natalie paled. "Why?" she asked softly. "What happened?"

Vincent regarded her a moment. "You relived a dream."

Natalie's eyes widened in horror. "What?" she whispered.

Vincent approached where she sat on the side of her bed. "'Vincent, we need to talk,'" he quoted. "'About?' I asked. 'About us,' you replied." He paused, watching her reaction. "You know it?"

Natalie barely nodded. Her eyes still captured by his. Not the dream. Anything but that.

"You admitted you were afraid." Vincent knelt in front of her. "I said that it was all right to be afraid. After all, even I'm afraid."

Natalie focused sharply on his face. "What?"

"Of you. Afraid because... because of what I feel."

Natalie's pale complexion yellowed.

Vincent examined her face and eyes before reaching forward to touch her cheek with his golden-gloved claw. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, tears raining down her cheeks. "This claw," he said a bit gruffly. "This monstrosity has caused no amount of horror and disgust in those who look on me. You are the only one I've met who feels pleasure at the touch of its cool exterior."

Natalie flinched away and hid her face in her hands. "No..."

Vincent pulled them away. "That acceptance made me agree to kiss you. I believed I did it only so that you would sleep, it seemed the only key to end the fantasy, but I knew it would be different. It was a beginning. An answer. A question. A hundred different things that caused no end of confusion and fear."

Natalie shook her head. "Please don't say anymore..." she said in a voice filled with tears. "I want to wake up now. I can't stand anymore. Please. Let me wake up. Let me wake up..." Her voice broke on the sobs.

Vincent recognized the terror at the possibility of being trapped inside another nightmare. Beginning to enjoy it while knowing and fearing that when it came time to wake, the pleasant life would cease to exist. Yes, he recognized the misery.

"Natalie." Vincent released her hands to cup her face, ignoring her frantic grasp and pull on his wrists. "Natalie, this is reality."

"No. No, it can't be," she choked out with a slight shake of her head. Tears escaped her closed lids. "Let me go. Please... Let me wake up. I can't keep doing this. Dreams aren't enough. They aren't. Please," she sobbed frantically. "Please let me wake up."

"Wake? From a dream you've wanted to become real?" he whispered.

And Vincent had to fight back the fear of the rush he knew would come as he leaned forward to touch her lips with his. Her grip on his hands tightened along with her choked protest at the warmth and the hesitant softness, and she again attempted to pull his hands from her face. The act one of desperation.

"No," she whimpered against his lips, her breath beckoning him forward again. "I can't. Please."

Another whispered plea and another whispered touch of lip.

And again.

Then yet again.

Each time their lips met it lasted a little longer, exploring a little deeper past the fear. That terror continued to pull him away, but the memory of the touch and the warmth and softness would call him back for another taste. Then another. And a little more. Before he realized what happened, the touch of her lips and breath was his only focus.

His only need.

Vincent's hands caressed her face as wave after wave of light burst inside his head. Each deep and intense motion of her mouth against his brought another eruption. Each caress of her fingers on his face deafened him to the outside world. Their submergence into his hair banished the cold and briefly silenced the voices within.

A sob suddenly broke from Natalie's lips. Vincent raised his head, opening his eyes to focus on her face. Tears cascaded down her cheeks to drip from her lowered lashes as cry after choked cry broke free. Vincent's throat tightened as he watched her, helplessness refusing him any words. Instead, he pulled her to her feet and drew her close. She moaned, and the sobs shook her entire body.

Vincent pulled her closer still as he caressed her soft curls, desperately trying to protect her from a misery he understood all too well. He closed his eyes when she tightened her arms around him, relishing the intensity of emotion that thrashed within. It was all coming back; how to be human; how to be gentle; how to care for someone who wanted nothing more than to be needed...

Submission had been a surprisingly easy answer.

*

Experiments of Frustration / Conversions

Chapter Index