And I was awake at 3am (which, frequently, I am) and I was thinking about my major climax (because this was the mini-middle-climax, not the penultimate one) and trying to figure out what I'm going to do for an encore, when it hit me.
Or, you know, I hit it.
Try/fail cycle. Again.
My bad guy only thinks that this thing has worked to cure his wife of her malady. But it is, to quote Beaker, sadly temporary.
They used not!Harry as a human dialysis machine for a sick vampire. So now he's got the malady as well...
And thus continues in his role as My Favorite Punching Bag.
In other news, all the Iron Man fans on my flist need to go read this fic right now:
"March and I had a scheduling conflict." *dies*
And while I'm here, I should do the Weekly Word Count.
Last week's word count: 35,163
This week's word count: 40,663
Word count for the week: 5,500
And isn't that a nice even number? How the hell did that happen? Hee. More than three times my weekly goal, and 1,100 more than last week. I'll take it.