Time has a way of getting away from me, which I’m sure will come as no surprise to all my readers who’ve watched me take three years to write this fanfiction (although in my defense, this fanfic is 4 epic-length novels so far, with one more in the works, so I’m actually clipping along at a pretty good speed). So even though I have most of a month between me and my surgery, I’m feeling the crunch. I’ve even started to prepare. I’ve made a list of fun places to stop at on the way there and back again. I’ve narrowed down my potential photographic travelling companions to three hopefuls: My pose-able Kermit the Frog, my T-Rex hand puppet, and one of my many, many plushie octopuses. And I even bought a new suitcase, since it appears my cat, Waffles (rest in peace), discovered my last one in the bottom of my closet and turned it into a bed/scratching post/auxiliary litterbox.

Here’s some fun author trivia for you that people who don’t follow this blog will never know: I’m notoriously terrible at packing for trips. I don’t know why. It’s not like I save things for the last minute and then just throw random crap in a bag and run out the door. I swear it’s really not. I pack well in advance, with what I sure THINK is careful consideration not only for my destination but the travel conditions. I research my route. I plan for the weather. I expect the unexpected. And then somehow, I end up at a hotel three hundred miles from home, frantically digging through the bag I so meticulously assembled only to find that past-me apparently thought all the clothes future-me needed for a week-long trip through Louisiana in the middle of summer was an extra pair of jeans, seventeen t-shirts and a pair of earmuffs, and yes, that’s a true example, and not even the worst one I could have dredged up and put on display.

So yeah, I’ve got three weeks to go before we hit the road and you better believe I’m already packing. I’m sure I’ll have at least two “RLee, what are you THINKING?!” moments between now and then. What I arrive with is anyone’s guess. I legit once went camping for a weekend in the mountains in Oregon in January and packed six pairs of jeans, two shirts, no sweaters or coats, three swimsuits and a Spiderman Christmas ornament, and no, it didn’t get hooked on something and accidentally tag along, I PACKED that stupid ornament. Oh, and also, I forgot to pack the tent.

I’m sorry I called you stupid just now. You’re a hero. Also, I’m sorry you fell off the tree that one year and got eaten by my stupid dog. Also, Hephie, if you’re listening, I’m sorry I called you a stupid dog just now, but I’m even sorrier that you were one.

Anyway, I say all this to let you all know that the day is fast approaching and things are only going to get more hectic, so tonight’s update to my fanfic may be the last one until after the surgery. Sorry about that, but hopefully it’s got enough going on in it to hold you over until I’m home again. So if you’re reading Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones, hop onto archiveofourown.org or fanfiction.net and check it out. Here’s a little sneak peek of what’s waiting for you over there!

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Ana had been awake for thirty hours by this time, and to say that she was running on fumes was putting it lightly. Her body was feeling it; exhaustion amplified the ache in every strained muscle and bruise. Even the slightest light stung her eyes like needles, and her mouth was sour with the taste of blood and burned adrenaline. Stress, lack of sleep, and squinting through her magnifying goggles for the past two hours at the delicate workings of Chica’s foot had joined together into a hammering headache that threatened at any moment to split her head wide open and tear her entire body in half right down to the ground. Also, she was thirsty, so before she did anything else, she went to the tray return window where she’d left her thermos full of Red Bull and vodka.

She only meant to have a sip, just to rinse her mouth out and wake up a little. She meant that right up until she put the thermos down again, empty. That was probably going to hit her pretty hard in a very short span of time, she thought, but it seemed the Red Bull hit first. Her mind felt clear as she approached the gymnasium where Freddy kept watch, clear right up until she opened the door and saw Toy Freddy instead, slumped in the far corner, staring back at her accusingly with the eyeless sockets in his broken head.

She blinked and it was Freddy, just Freddy, not looking at her at all, but down at the hat in his hands.

‘I’m tired,’ she told herself, ‘and probably a little buzzed. Just get this over with, get something to eat and go to bed.’

The camera on the wall switched on. With the autumn sun streaming in through the ceiling and south-facing wall, its light went unnoticed, but Freddy’s ears twitched at the high-pitched whine as it panned around, looking at him, looking for her.

“You okay, big bear?” Ana asked.

“It was a difficult night.” He glanced out the window. “And it’s turned into a difficult day. You?”

“Same. But I’m still standing,” she said without thinking, and winced.

Freddy grunted. “Well, that puts you over me,” he said, then paused. The exposed mechanisms where his muzzle used to be shifted; if he had a face, he’d be smiling. “One might even say, head and shoulders over me.”

“You just had to go there.”

“Force of habit. Come in, Ana.” He pulled in a little air, vented it hard, and put his hat on. “Let’s hear the bad news.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Ana, heading over.

“It’s not that good,” he countered archly, “or you wouldn’t have waited this long before coming to see me. Not to mention hosting shouting matches with everyone under this roof first.”

“Not everyone,” argued Ana. “Just Foxy.”

“Ah. Well. That’s understandable, then.” He watched her approach, displaying some curiosity at the leg she carried, although it didn’t hold his interest long. His gaze wandered over her, lingering anywhere her makeup had thinned or been carelessly rubbed away.

Before he could say anything about the bruises she was surely showing, Ana said, “Freddy, you’re in pieces. Let’s not talk about me, okay?”

He had to think about it before he nodded, and the set of his ears made it clear that the talk was only postponed, not cancelled.