Hi, everybody! Now, before you all throw those variously-sized/squishy tomatoes you're aiming at me, let me explain myself. I had a BIG TEST. Which I forgot about and thus had to frantically drop everything and study nonstop for. I took it this morning, and thankfully got a B, so all's well, but that's my excuse numero uno.

If THAT didn't make you put down the fruit, let me also add that yes, this chapter is about 7 pages on Word, and yes, it finishes the entire book. So... lower those tomatoes gently to the ground, please... Carefully... Good. (Wipes sweat from brow).

That's really all I had to say about the story, but I would like to add my favorite three lines from this story that I, unfortunately, didn't get to include, because Rob wasn't there. :( So... you can skip if you want, I suppose, but they're very good lines. Very good.

"Say you're sorry, Arthur commanded Shane, "or I'll bounce up and down until your ribs break." - page 58. You gotta love Arthur.

Sam took a long swallow of Coke. He then let out a burp of such length and volume, diners at nearby tables glanced over in admiration. Although pleased by this, Sam modestly refused to take total credit for his accomplishment. "Having a deviated septum helps," he informed us. - page 99. Do I really have to say anything?

Scott ducked his head modestly. "You were right, Jess," he said. "Tampons do make good fuses." - page 224. Just... I can picture that so well...

Yeah, so that's it. The story of TGILICNC is officially... over from here on out. Ta-da. Congratulate me! ...Oh yeah, you should probably read it first.

Okay. So I was mad. And I think I had good right to be. I was mad, and I was confused, and most of all, I was worried.

So when I left, I didn't go far.

In fact, I only made it to the same place I'd stopped before, with Jess – the turnoff by the lake with the picnic table – before I was forced to stop, my hands were trembling so hard.

Because, damn her!

I don't think I can properly describe just how angry I was when I stopped. I mean, I was stomping around, shouting stuff at the top of my lungs that I hadn't even realized I'd known, for a good twenty minutes. But eventually, I calmed down.

And then… Well, then I was hurt. I mean, Jess hadn't wanted me there. She always does, normally. It just… I…

So, I stayed there for a while longer, thinking about that. Luckily the rain had already stopped, so I wasn't getting soaked, or anything. But it still wasn't exactly comfortable, sitting on that picnic table, staring at the lake, and realizing…

Well, realizing just how stupid I'd been. I guess my brain just overloaded, or something. Because it was obvious, now that I'd cooled down, what she'd been trying to do. Jess had wanted me gone, all right – so that she could find that kid. And contrary to what I'd said earlier, I did give a crap about Shane. I just didn't care about him as much as I did about Jess.

What? It's true! I mean, if you were given the choice between some random kid and the girl you – the girl you like, who would you pick?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

But Jess, I knew, would have picked the innocent kid's life over her own any day. She's a freaking martyr about stuff like that. So, when she sent me away, it wasn't a personal thing. It was just that she needed to be able to find Shane, and she couldn't do that with me – or the Feds – worrying about her.

And, I guess I should be flattered, that she was more worried about me stopping her than the FBI, but I just wasn't in the mood to appreciate it then.

But whether or not I appreciated it, after a little while I finally felt like I might understand it. This was what Jess did. And if I really wanted to keep on – if I was going to be involved in this kind of stuff, I'd just have to understand that. Because it was something she couldn't change. It was part of her fundamental make-up; the part of her that would willingly put herself in deadly danger for others. In Jess's case, the 'others' seemed to include any kid, near or far, that she liked or disliked, as long as they needed her help. In mine…

Look, I'm not like Jess, okay? Yes, I like helping these kids. And yeah, it's worth it. I'll even put myself in harm's way for them; that's fine with me. I just… okay, I just don't like it when Jess does.

I was sitting on that picnic table, having this epiphany, when I heard the explosion.

It should be obvious what I did; I hopped on my Indian and drove right back to camp, worried as hell – only to pull up in the parking lot and realize that the loud echoing boom I'd heard had only been the two FBI agents' white van.

Which could only mean one thing: Jess had escaped, and gone to get the kid. I had no idea how she knew where he was – since she couldn't possibly have fallen asleep in so little time – but I knew that had to be what she'd done.

Apparently, the Feds both knew that too. I drove up just as Johnson was swearing at his still-flaming car, and they both turned straight to me.

Johnson was the first to reach me, and he tried to tower over me menacingly – but as I said before, he's barely any taller than me, and his attempt just made me smirk.

"Where's Jess?" he asked angrily. "Where'd she go?"

I just shrugged. It wasn't my fault their truck had exploded. That would have been done by – well, not Jess, since she would have needed this diversion to get away from these two. And… not Ruth either; she was way too much of a wimp to light a federal officer's car on fire.

Then who?

I ran through the limited options in my head. Karen Sue was laughable, I hadn't done it, so it had to be…

Dave.

The idiot blew up a car for her! What the hell was he thinking?

Okay, so maybe I had a brief moment gloating that I'd blown up a helicoptor, which is way better than a van. But mostly, I disapproved.

Apparently, Johnson had realized I couldn't possibly have blown his van up, seeing as I had just arrived, because while I was lost in thought, he had walked away. Either that, or Smith had dragged him away. I'm guessing latter, judging by the glares he kept shooting me.

The time passed annoyingly slowly after that – I almost left again, but somehow I just couldn't make myself – but eventually it happened. All the cops came running out of the building and driving off, sirens on. Jess had called them.

I followed them, of course. In fact, once I realized where we were going – it was another one of those roads I'd accidentally gone up before, leading to a cave – I went onto the shoulder of the road and even passed them. It was easy, because they had to go kind of slowly due to the condition of the road, which wasn't the best, after the storm. They yelled at me, but they couldn't exactly stop me, so I was the first on the scene by several minutes.

And it was a good thing, too. Pretty much everybody there was frozen; Ruth, off-the-list guy, and a guy who must be the infamous Dave. This kid was sobbing wildly – I assumed he was Shane. And Jess… Well, Jess wasn't exactly hysterical. More… tired. Tired, and hurt. I could see from one glance at her that she was pretty beaten up, and the first thing I did was storm right over to her. I didn't grab her by the shoulders and shake her, but I really wanted to.

"Jess? Are you all right?"

Jess kind of blinked at me, and nodded. All of her friends were gaping at me, I guess wondering how I got there so fast, and Shane was still sobbing wildly, arms wrapped around Jess's waist and head on her shoulder.

As soon as she nodded, I lost it. I will admit freely that I went a little overboard with the yelling, but I was worried!

However, she didn't seem to mind that too much, as she just ignored me, and went with the cops. She was so quiet for a while that I finally just shut up and followed her, worried.

Of course, all was revealed when she told us we'd find Clay Larsson unconscious in the cave.

I might have started yelling again once I heard that, but I never got the chance, because Jess and Shane were getting loaded back into a police car and taken back to camp almost instantly.

I kicked a rock viciously, and followed them back as fast as I could.

Luckily, they let me in with Jess and Shane when they went in for their checkup. I mean, I would have gotten in anyway, but they didn't even argue with me. All I know, is Special Agent Smith was smiling at me, and Johnson was glaring at her.

Yeah, I think I'm going to call her Special Agent from now on.

Jess spoke first, surprising me a little, broke the silence. "Well," she said, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, "What was I supposed to think? I mean, after that whole don't-call-me thing."

Oh. She was referring to the way, when I'd been yelling at her earlier, I happened to mention how annoyed I was that she'd gotten Dave to blow up the Fed's van for her, rather than me. Of course, I didn't phrase it exactly that way…

"I knew what you were after, Mastriani," I half-lied. I had known what she was doing later, but the don't-call-me thing was entirely me being angry at her. "You wanted to get rid of me so you could ditch the Feds and go after the little guy."

Shane grunted at me and smirked. "Sorry. I meant little dude."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you." Ooh, sarcasm. Scary.

"No talking." The nurse scolded him, and the little guy – yeah, you heard me – went back to scowling around his thermometer.

"And you were okay with that?" Jess asked me, ignoring the interlude. "I mean, letting me ditch the Feds, and you, in order to go after Shane?"

"Of course I wasn't okay with that." I stopped, and blinked at Shane. Maybe that wasn't exactly the most considerate thing to say… ah, who the hell cared. I waited until the nurse finished taking Jess's pulse before continuing, "But what was I supposed to do, Mastriani? The guy pulled a gun on me."

I saw Shane perk up at the mention of guns, and look at me excitedly, like I was some kind of Indiana Jones or something. He'd been doing that pretty often, actually. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I drive a motorcycle. "Not like I thought he'd shoot me, but it was clear nobody – specifically you – wanted me around."

Okay, so I was a little bitter.

But I was gratified to hear her defensive reply; "That isn't true. I always want you around."

"Yeah, but only if I'll go along with whatever hare-brained idea you've come up with. And let me tell you, going into a cave in the middle of the night with a killer on the loose? Not one I'd probably go for." She still could have asked me, though.

"Well, it all turned out okay," Mastriani insisted.

"Oh, yeah," I snorted, employing some liberal sarcasm. "Shane? You agree with that? You think it all turned out okay?"

He nodded, and once he was free of the thermometer, added, "I think it turned out great."

Traitor.

I, of course, got my revenge and made my point at the same time. "You didn't seem to think so when you first got out of that cave."

He didn't back down. "Yeah. But that was before the cops got there. I was afraid he was going to wake up and come after us again."

Okay, credit where credit's due. I'd seen them, carting Clay out of there, and there was no way he was waking up anytime soon. I shared this observation, "After that whack you gave him?" I raised my eyebrows for emphasis, shaking my head. "Never mind football, kid. You've got batting in your blood."

…And here returned the odd hero worship again, this time with a blush. Hmm.

I turned back to Jess, and the original conversation. "You know, Mastriani, you have more than just an anger-management problem. You are also the stubbornest damned person I've ever met. Once you get an idea into your head, nothing can make you change your mind. Not your friends. Not the FBI. And certainly not me." Just a little bitter, I swear. "I used to have a dog a lot like you," I added, with a smirk.

Jess looked affronted, but Shane began giggling wildly. "What happened? To the dog that was like Jess?"

"Oh," I shrugged. "He was convinced he could stop moving cars with his teeth, if he could just sink them into their tires. Eventually, he got run over."

I hadn't really considered, in depth, how Jess might feel about that, so it was something of a surprise to me how amusing it was.

"I am not," she insisted vehemently, "a car-chasing dog. There is absolutely no parallel between me and a dog that's stupid enough to – "

She stopped when she noticed me laughing, which was a shame. I would have liked hearing more about just how different she was from Patches (hey, I was only seven! Cut me some slack).

"So, you're not mad at me?" I kind of trailed off, looking over at Jess. She was lying in the infirmary bed, still all covered in dirt and dust from the cave, staring up at me with a hopeful expression on her face.

Damn it, I was mad at her. She'd told me to get out of town, and then gone and nearly killed herself as soon as I did! I was furious!

…Except I wasn't. In fact, all I could think about was kissing her, right now, and the only thing that was stopping me was the presence of Shane and the nurse. I should probably be grateful to them.

Because Jess should at least think I was mad. Even if she had to know by now that I liked her, she still didn't know just how much – and I couldn't let her. It was bad enough just like this, if I let her know exactly how much I – I could not let her know.

Besides, she already thought I was a pushover. I just smiled a little, and said, "I think I'll be able to get over it."

God, I'd be so over it if the nurse and that little kid were out of the room…

Damn it, Rob, you really aren't helping yourself here.

There was another pause in which Jess and I just smiled at each other, broken only by Shane's gagging and his asking me, in a horrified tone, "How can you stand all that… mushiness?"

Of course, then the nurse mentioned visitors, and then came the cops and the questions, and I pretty much tuned out for most of the time, because they hardly asked me anything.

I snapped back to attention when Johnson – who was sitting next to me – turned and said, suspiciously, "And just how, precisely, did you happen upon the scene, Mr. Wilkins? It was my impression that you left the camp some hours ago."

He knew that I'd gotten back just when the car blew up, and had been there ever since. He was fully aware of that, but apparently he still thought I'd been the one to do it, and wanted me to confess… Yeah. Well, I was actually innocent this time, and he was annoying me.

So I smirked at him, took Jess's hand, and in voice dripping with sincerity, said, "Well, I couldn't leave things the way they were with my girl, could I? I had to come back and apologize."

Johnson looked at us, and then pointedly looked at the ceiling, obviously disgusted. Special Agent Smith, on the other hand, smiled.

"Um, I see." Johnson's tone was dry and openly skeptical. "Please forgive me if I sound unconvinced. The fact is, Special Agent Smith and I feel that it is a bit of a coincidence, Jess, that you went looking for young Shane in Wolf Cave. You certainly didn't mention that he might have been in this cave to anyone when you first learned of his disappearance."

"Excuse me, sir," the nurse said, coming back in and handing what looked like tea to Jess and Shane. "For the shock." She scurried off, clearly no more willing to listen to the never-ending questions than the rest of us. Unfortunately, we couldn't leave.

"Jess," Special Agent Smith sighed, "Why don't you tell us what really happened?"

Somehow, my hand holding hers to mock Johnson had migrated to being my entire arm wrapped around her shoulders, and I still wasn't quite sure how it happened. But Jess was now leaning into my arm, drinking her tea, and I didn't pull away.

Just strike me down now, God, and save me from all of this confusion… please?

"I already told it," Jess said, catching my attention "Exactly like it was. No, really."

"Yes," Shane piped up, "She's telling the truth, sir."

As one, we all turned to look at him. He smiled charmingly, dunking a cookie into his tea and began munching on it.

Johnson looked back at Jess. "Nice try. But I don't think so."

"I highly doubt, for instance," Special Agent Smith added, "that that little boy" – I looked at Shane, to see if he'd protest that again, but apparently he was too involved with his cookies and tea to notice – "was the one who set off a Molotov cocktail beneath our van."

I noticed Dave – he who had actually blown up the van, with the help of who I'd learned was Scott (who, now that I wasn't worried about him liking Jess, obviously liked Ruth, god knows why) – looking at my arm around Jess's shoulders, and tightened it a little, meeting his eyes. I don't think so, buddy. Not gonna happen.

Dave looked away first. Ha. Get off the list, Dave.

"Well, obviously," Jess said. "That could only have been Mr. Larsson."

I turned and looked at her. Never let it be said that Mastriani isn't clever. "No, really," she insisted at the FBI agents' skeptical looks. "To distract you. I mean, come on. The guy's a real psycho. I hope they put him away for a long, long time. Going after a little kid like that? Why, it's unconscionable."

"Unconscionable," Johnson repeated, staring at her.

God, I love you, Jess.

…Not like that. I just meant – she was being witty and I… crap. I have to stop thinking awkward, untrue, stuff like that.

"Sure," Jess continued, unaware of my internal panicking. "That's a word. I took the PSATs. I should know."

Okay. I know how I meant it, and I didn't say it out loud, so no one else could interpret it wrong. I had no reason to worry. Okay.

"Funny how, Johnson said, "Clay Larsson happened to know exactly which vehicle was ours." I noticed he looked pointedly at me when he said Clay Larsson, as if to say 'Yeah, I know it was you'.

It wasn't, okay?

I decided I was just going to forget I'd ever thought it. I could do that. Yeah. Just forget about it.

"Yeah," Jess said, sipping her tea innocently, "Well, you know. Criminal genius and all."

Okay, then. Everything was fine. I relaxed in my seat. Jess didn't know what I'd thought – no one did. I was good. Great, even.

"And strange," Special Agent Smith said, with a raised eyebrow, "that he would pick our vehicle, out of all the other ones parked in that lot, to set on fire, when he doesn't even know us."

So great, in fact, that when I heard that, I couldn't resist saying, "One of the hardest things to accept about violent crime is its seeming randomness."

Shane spluttered on a sip of his tea, Jess grinned widely, and the FBI agents both turned and looked at me. Special Agent Smith looked surprised and exasperated, and even a little disappointment. Johnson… well, Johnson just looked mad.

I don't know what would have happened just then, if Dr. Alistair hadn't burst into the room, panting, but I don't think it would have been very pleasant.

"Jessica, you're all right?" He cried, and when we all stared at him silently, he continued on like she'd agreed, even though she hadn't said a word. "Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness. I do hope, Jessica, that you'll forgive me for my outburst earlier this evening – "

Like she would ever –

Jess interrupted both Dr. Alistair and my train of thought, saying, "You mean when you asked me why I didn't get my psychic friends to help me find Shane?"

Apparently, the agents weren't supposed to know about that, if the worried look Dr. Alistair shot them was any indication. "Yes," he said nervously, "About that. I didn't mean – "

He meant every word he said, that utter –

Jess did it again. "Yes you did. You meant every word." She glared at the FBI agents. "How much did you pay him, anyway, to report my every mood to you?"

They looked at each other. "Jessica," Special Agent Smith said, "What are you talking about?"

Please. Spare us.

"It's so obvious," Jess told them, "that he was your narc. I mean, he scheduled that one o'clock appointment with me, and then when I didn't show up, he called you. That's how you knew I'd left the camp. You didn't have to sit outside by the gates and wait to see if I'd leave. You had someone working on the inside to save you the trouble."

"That," Johnson denied, "is patently – "

"Oh, come on," Mastriani rolled her eyes. "When are you guys going to get it through your heads that you're going to have to find yourself a new Cassandra?" There had to be a story behind that… "Because the truth is, this one's retired."

"Jessica," cried an affronted voice that I really hated, "I would never in a million years compromise the integrity of this camp by accepting money for – "

"Aw, shut up," Shane snapped, and everyone blinked for a second. Oh, the look on Dr. Alisatair's face… And might I just add, a very sincere, Congratulations, Shane!

Because he actually did. Shut up. It was a miracle.

Johnson leaned forward, and spoke quietly, I guess to be more private. But I could still here, seeing as he was sitting right next to me. Actually, he was kind of leaning in front of me. It was a little annoying. "Jessica, we know perfectly well that Jonathon Herzberg asked you to find his daughter, and that you, in fact, did so. We also know that this evening, you again used your psychic powers to find Shane Taggerty. You can't go on with this ridiculous charade that you've lost your psychic powers any longer. We know the truth." He leaned back – thank you – and glared at her.

Then Special Agent Smith, who had approached us without me noticing, added, "And it's only a matter of time before you'll be forced to admit it, Jess."

See, comments like that are what get in the way of me actually liking that woman. Well, that and how she always seems to want to make Jess go to some 'safe house' or use her powers when she doesn't want to and…

Huh, maybe she doesn't deserve the special title after all.

Jess had been contemplating Special Agent Smith's – what? She let me in the infirmary. That's worth a title or two – comment this entire time, and she finally said, "Jill?"

"Yes, Jess?" 'Jill' looked at her questioningly.

Jess asked her, with utmost sincerity, "Are you a lesbian?"

I wasn't in on the private joke there, but the way Shane nearly fell out of bed laughing, and just the look on Special Agent Smith's face – it was good enough for me.

I left after that. In fact, so soon after that, that I barely said goodbye to Jess. But really, I'd concluded all my business here – I'd scared away Dave, rescued some kids, Jess's would-be murderer was in jail, and I'd successfully not kissed her the entire time.

Seriously, I just wanted to get home before anything else went wrong.

And nothing did. I mean, really. Nothing. Jess didn't even try to kiss me goodbye. She just said, "Bye, Rob. I guess I'll see you later," with a slightly sad look on her face. And the drive home was fine, too. I didn't get lost once, and I only had to buy gas once.

And I've been fine, the rest of the summer. I mean, I've occasionally thought about driving up to visit her, but that would, frankly, be insane, so I've never acted on it.

Maybe I've spent more time inside than usual, but that doesn't mean I wait for her to call. And I told my mom so, too, the one time she was in the kitchen when Jess called, and she saw me answer the phone.

I wouldn't call it rushing, but apparently she did. And I always pace when I'm on the phone. So that wasn't nearly as weird as she made it out to be.

And yeah, I am driving four miles, one-way, to watch her solo at the concert tonight, but I've never even heard Mastriani play. And I like driving, anyway…

Ah, screw it. I've already admitted it. I like Jess, a lot, and I'm not in denial about it.

And for some reason, despite me saying we aren't dating, I always seem to be there when she calls, always eager to hear her voice, ready to drive four miles (one way) to see her play just one song, and I'm pretty sure I'll visit her as soon as I can once she gets back.

And I've been having some pretty interesting dreams lately, too.

I like her. A lot.

But that's as far as I'm ever going to let it get.