The Rain - Chapter 16 (final chapter)
Title: The Rain
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17 occasionally
Warnings: some violence and horror elements
Summary: AI8 tour. Adam is involved in a serious car accident that leaves him struggling to recover emotionally. Kris tries to help but is soon dealing with his own internal crisis.
Chapter 16
Carrie’s fingers were twined in his shirt. He hit the ground hard, but twisted away from her and ran.
The raindrops were big as marbles, saturating everything they hit. An inch of standing water on the ground reflected the lights of the building and the trucks, and the whole world was a jagged mosaic of inky black and glaring light where nothing made sense.
Broken chunks of memory slid in and out of his mind. The crowd going wild as he came out on stage. The relentless drumming of rain outside the crushed car. Kris waiting in the van. Carrie’s hand on his arm.
The rain-slicked blacktop around him swapped with memories so vivid they seemed real. His clothes were sopping. Was it rain? Was it blood?
Unsure of even the ground under his feet, he stumbled to a stop. Where am I? What’s happened to me? He had been in the wreck, on the hillside. But the grass and trees were gone. One hand was cut from when he hit the ground -it was pavement. He was in a parking lot.
Headlights, high off the ground, went on suddenly, sending out spears of light, and in front of him was a truck where there had been nothing.
* * *
Kris and Samantha saw the silhouette appear in the headlights as the truck turned and roared forward. They both screamed, “No!” simultaneously as the lights hit the figure and knocked it aside.
* * *
The headlights spun toward him, and Adam jumped. It seemed like a dream until the side of the fender hit him, caught his shirt, and nearly dragged him under the tires. The rear wheels went by inches from his face where he had been thrown to his hands and knees.
Another curtain of rain hit, and Carrie was there in front of him, skeletal hands outstretched, pleading, grabbing. Her voice was the hiss of the water. “Sssave me.”
He staggered to his feet and ran full out, with absolutely no idea where he was going.
* * *
Kris was the first to reach the spot where they had seen the truck knock Adam down. He could see nothing in the alternating glare and pitch of the wet tarmac.
“Adam!” he called with every bit of volume he had. “Adam!”
Samantha searched the ground frantically, shielding her eyes from the reflecting light to see into the dark. “Do you see him?”
“No.” Kris tried to control the adrenalin that was shaking his whole body. If Adam had gone under the tires, he’d be mangled. It would be horrific. He couldn’t allow himself to picture it, and he couldn’t stop picturing it.
“Do you think…maybe he got caught under the truck…and dragged away?” Samantha said in a sick voice.
“No!” Kris tried to clear his eyes of the water pouring down his face. “He’s here.”
* * *
He never saw the stairs rising to the arena. Full on, he ran into them. His feet caught, and he was flung onto the unyielding concrete edges. An arm flying up reflexively saved his face from being shattered.
He lay there, in stunned agony, for the moment in too much pain for fear or guilt or grief to live in his mind.
And in that moment, in that brief respite from attack, sparked to anger by physical pain, he found strength. He gathered his will and went down to the core of who he was. And he began to fight back.
A long sound of pain escaped him as he rolled slowly on the steps. Through half-open eyes, he could see her, clothes running with the rain. Ripped face pleading, leaning down to him.
“It is NOT MY FAULT!” he screamed at her, and pushed himself up, defying the pain, defying the ghoul that his mind had made of his friend, and standing straight before her.
“IT IS NOT MY FAULT! THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO! I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING-ANYTHING-TO SAVE YOU!”
Rage melted to grief, and he reached out a hand to one of her fleshless ones. His voice choked with tears. “I loved you.”
And as his hand reached the spot where hers was, she smiled, a smile grotesque and beautiful, and dissolved in the rain.
“No, Carrie, don’t go,” he said softly. But she was gone.
* * *
Kris and Samantha split up. Samantha went back to the van to call Geoff and search the outer parking areas. Kris headed toward the arena. The storm would not give them a break and made it nearly impossible to pick out anything from the darkness. Kris’ frustration was like something shredding his insides, and his rage bounced from the dark to Adam to Raj to himself, even while knowing none of them was really responsible.
The rage vanished completely when he saw the figure sitting on the steps, lit by the illumination at the huge backstage door. He knew instantly it was Adam.
“Oh thank God,” he said in a rush and broke into a run.
He slowed a few yards away, afraid his friend would take off again, mistaking Kris for someone or something else. “Adam?” he said softly.
He looked up. Even in the rain, you could tell he was crying. Kris closed the distance cautiously, but Adam only watched him. He looked battered and utterly exhausted. But there was recognition and no fear at all in his eyes.
Kris stood in front of him for a minute, just shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you hurt? I saw that truck hit you.”
“I hate the rain,” he said.
“Okay.” He took Adam’s arm, gently urging him to his feet. “Let’s get out of it." To his relief, Adam quietly stood and allowed himself to be guided by the pressure of Kris' hand.
* * *
Afterward, Adam was never able to remember the walk up the stairs and into the arena. It seemed as if suddenly they were inside under painfully bright lights. Kris was asking a security guard to find Samantha, and Adam was aware of being very, very cold.
“You’re bleeding.” Kris took his gashed hand and grimaced as he took in the damage. Adam’s teeth chattered. “We’ve got to get you out of these clothes.”
Kris was white with cold himself, and his hands were shaking. Together they stumbled to the arena showers and stood under them fully clothed, running the water almost completely hot. As the steam billowed around them, Adam looked over to see Kris watching him with his mouth slightly open and a strange expression. Caught staring, Kris looked away quickly, and Adam was too numb to worry about it.
With some effort, they peeled off their clothes, and when warmth had finally returned, were wrapping in towels when Samantha hurried in. She paid no attention to their state of undress, but took a deep breath and stared at Adam as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. “Okay, how are we?” She saw the blood on a towel Adam held in his hand. “What's that from?”
“I’m all right.” He was distant and formal. “Sorry about...everything.”
“We, uh, we need some clothes,” Kris said, holding his towel firmly closed.
"Geoff's turning around with the bus as soon as he gets everybody in the hotel. I'll have him bring something. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Adam's hand's hurt."
Samantha located a first aid kit and they moved to empty dressing room, where she bandaged the gash as best she could.
* * *
Kris watched tensely, afraid that any minute Adam would return to whatever state of mind had taken him through the window. Samantha alternated between eyeing Adam as if he might explode, looking to Kris for reassurance, and glancing at the door through which she expected Geoff to come. Adam remained detached, avoiding all eyes. But there seemed to be something different about him, a quality of strength, of balance, that had been absent for a long time. It was a vague sense, and Kris thought it might be his imagination.
Geoff stepped through the door and scanned the room, settling on Adam, draped in numerous towels.
"Nice look. I like it."
Adam managed an elegant shrug. "I want black towels next time. With rhinestones."
"Too many demands." Geoff put a stack of clothes down on the dressing table. To Samantha: "Do either of them need to see a doctor?"
"Uhhh--" A sideways glance at Adam as she stood up. "Let's talk outside."
"I'm not going to the doctor. I just want to go to my room. I'm not gonna freak out again."
They both gave him a look of complete disbelief and went out the door.
Kris heard Geoff say, "Raj has quit."
Samantha snapped back, "I already fired him, the little shit."
The door shut.
Adam reached for the clothes. Geoff had brought him a black jeans and a black t-shirt with a glittering skull and gold lettering. He handed Kris' clothes to him. "Hey, look. A plaid shirt. And Levis. Woooo."
Kris snatched them. "You are amazing. Even when you're run over by a truck and completely out of your mind you can be a butthead."
Adam looked at him without expression, and for a moment Kris was afraid he'd gone too far. Then Adam replied, "I wasn't run over by a truck. Turn around, I'm going to dress."
Kris laughed and made a 360, which brought him back to facing Adam, who gave a sardonic snort and began stripping off towels.
* * *
As they rode the bus to the hotel, Kris was sure there was a trace of smugness on Adam’s face. Geoff and Samantha had insisted on an emergency page to Dr. Chien. It was that or hospitalization, and Adam chose the phone call, in turn insisting the conversation be private, and when the phone was handed back to Geoff, the only instruction was to pick up a new prescription for Adam.
“Are you sure?” Geoff argued. “He kicked his way through a van window. They said he was-“ he looked up to see Adam watching him and turned around. “He was talking to the woman who died in the car accident he was in.” Geoff listened. “Okay. All right. You’re the expert.. I’ll call your office tomorrow and let them know which pharmacy.”
Geoff turned back to Adam. “You’re good. But I hope whatever you told him is close enough to the truth that this drug is gonna help you. Cause you need help.”
Now Kris watched Adam staring into the night as the bus hummed along. His eyes flickered for a moment at the rain on the window, and he looked down at his bandaged hand.
“Adam.”
Adam’s head turned slightly in his direction, but he said nothing.
“You could’ve been killed tonight. I know you talked Dr. Chien out of thinking that anything serious happened. But it did.”
“I had a panic attack. The rain…I’ve got bad associations with the rain--because of the accident. Freaked me out. Not a big deal.”
“Adam.”
“Mm?”
“I was there.”
Adam sent Kris a slow, bitter smile. “I am really getting tired of how much you see.” Then he looked away and said simply, “It’s not gonna happen again.”
“Of course it will. Nothing’s changed.”
“Yeah, it has." He put fingertips to the rain-streaked window.
"How?"
"I--I made peace.”
“With…with yourself? With Carrie?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you need to talk about it. You need to-“
“No. I don’t. What happened, happened to me. I don't want to open it up to share it. Maybe someday. Maybe not."
"So...you're fine?" Kris couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.
"No, I'm not fine.” He met Kris’ eyes. “But...I'm at a place I can get back from.”
* * *
When Adam reached the door of his room, Kris was beside him. It was touching. And infuriating.
He shoved the card in the lock and opened the door just a fraction. “Go to your room.”
Kris pushed the door open and walked in.
“For god’s sake, are you gonna take my bed again?” He followed Kris in, and the door shut behind him. “I’m too tired for this shit. I feel like I’ve been--"
“Hit by a truck.”
“I swear I’m not gonna jump out the window. Just go to your own room. Please. I really appreciate-“ He broke off. “There’s no way to thank you for what you’ve done for me, and-“
“Yeah, there is.” Kris looked at him intently, then reached up and pulled his mouth down to his and kissed him. It was deep and hungry and very definite in what it wanted.
Kris released him, and Adam stared.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m trying to be honest. But--" Kris looked at him searchingly. "I'm scared. With everything else that's happened, maybe this is the night to stop running. Maybe you can help me.”
What the fuck is he talking about? And what the hell was he doing kissing me? He's crazy. I'm not the only one who's had a breakdown.
Kris continued to stare at him, a look that didn't contradict the conclusion of his insanity, combining what appeared to be panic with some kind of burning focus.
"It's okay," Adam told him. "Whatever it is, I'll help you." He reached out his good hand and squeezed Kris' shoulder gently. To his amazement, Kris covered the hand with his, then lifted it from his shoulder and stared at his fingers. Then very slowly took them into his mouth.
Something like an electric vibration went through Adam from head to toe.
"Kris. I'm tired, but I'm not dead. Do not do that."
Kris took Adam's fingers out of his mouth, but twined them with his hand. "I keep having these dreams. And I can't stop thinking about you."
Adam could feel his heart jolting in his body. Take it easy. Try to get some clarity here.
"What kind of dreams?"
Kris looked down finally. "Good ones."
Adam waited. If Kris was saying what he thought he was, it still had to come from him. I'm not making the same mistake again.
"What do you want, Kris?"
"I'm afraid of what I want."
"Why?"
"I--I don't know. I guess conditioning."
"Then maybe you don't really want it." Adam freed his hand and took a couple steps back. "Go on. Go to your room. You're tired, and you can't think. I don't want to be part of something you would regret."
Kris didn't move. Even his stare was frozen, paralyzed by whatever forces tore at him, each cancelling the effect of the other.
Adam walked by him. "Geoff said he had our stuff put in our rooms, but I don't see--oh, yeah, there it--"
Kris jerked him around. And the look in his eyes was no longer conflicted. "I want you," he said in a voice Adam had never heard before.
For a moment Adam was wordless, and he felt the press of Kris' body as he pulled them together.
"Now," Kris said insistently.
Adam's heart pounded, and he forgot about being tired, although he was having trouble catching his breath. "Well. Okay."
# # #
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17 occasionally
Warnings: some violence and horror elements
Summary: AI8 tour. Adam is involved in a serious car accident that leaves him struggling to recover emotionally. Kris tries to help but is soon dealing with his own internal crisis.
Chapter 16
Carrie’s fingers were twined in his shirt. He hit the ground hard, but twisted away from her and ran.
The raindrops were big as marbles, saturating everything they hit. An inch of standing water on the ground reflected the lights of the building and the trucks, and the whole world was a jagged mosaic of inky black and glaring light where nothing made sense.
Broken chunks of memory slid in and out of his mind. The crowd going wild as he came out on stage. The relentless drumming of rain outside the crushed car. Kris waiting in the van. Carrie’s hand on his arm.
The rain-slicked blacktop around him swapped with memories so vivid they seemed real. His clothes were sopping. Was it rain? Was it blood?
Unsure of even the ground under his feet, he stumbled to a stop. Where am I? What’s happened to me? He had been in the wreck, on the hillside. But the grass and trees were gone. One hand was cut from when he hit the ground -it was pavement. He was in a parking lot.
Headlights, high off the ground, went on suddenly, sending out spears of light, and in front of him was a truck where there had been nothing.
* * *
Kris and Samantha saw the silhouette appear in the headlights as the truck turned and roared forward. They both screamed, “No!” simultaneously as the lights hit the figure and knocked it aside.
* * *
The headlights spun toward him, and Adam jumped. It seemed like a dream until the side of the fender hit him, caught his shirt, and nearly dragged him under the tires. The rear wheels went by inches from his face where he had been thrown to his hands and knees.
Another curtain of rain hit, and Carrie was there in front of him, skeletal hands outstretched, pleading, grabbing. Her voice was the hiss of the water. “Sssave me.”
He staggered to his feet and ran full out, with absolutely no idea where he was going.
* * *
Kris was the first to reach the spot where they had seen the truck knock Adam down. He could see nothing in the alternating glare and pitch of the wet tarmac.
“Adam!” he called with every bit of volume he had. “Adam!”
Samantha searched the ground frantically, shielding her eyes from the reflecting light to see into the dark. “Do you see him?”
“No.” Kris tried to control the adrenalin that was shaking his whole body. If Adam had gone under the tires, he’d be mangled. It would be horrific. He couldn’t allow himself to picture it, and he couldn’t stop picturing it.
“Do you think…maybe he got caught under the truck…and dragged away?” Samantha said in a sick voice.
“No!” Kris tried to clear his eyes of the water pouring down his face. “He’s here.”
* * *
He never saw the stairs rising to the arena. Full on, he ran into them. His feet caught, and he was flung onto the unyielding concrete edges. An arm flying up reflexively saved his face from being shattered.
He lay there, in stunned agony, for the moment in too much pain for fear or guilt or grief to live in his mind.
And in that moment, in that brief respite from attack, sparked to anger by physical pain, he found strength. He gathered his will and went down to the core of who he was. And he began to fight back.
A long sound of pain escaped him as he rolled slowly on the steps. Through half-open eyes, he could see her, clothes running with the rain. Ripped face pleading, leaning down to him.
“It is NOT MY FAULT!” he screamed at her, and pushed himself up, defying the pain, defying the ghoul that his mind had made of his friend, and standing straight before her.
“IT IS NOT MY FAULT! THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO! I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING-ANYTHING-TO SAVE YOU!”
Rage melted to grief, and he reached out a hand to one of her fleshless ones. His voice choked with tears. “I loved you.”
And as his hand reached the spot where hers was, she smiled, a smile grotesque and beautiful, and dissolved in the rain.
“No, Carrie, don’t go,” he said softly. But she was gone.
* * *
Kris and Samantha split up. Samantha went back to the van to call Geoff and search the outer parking areas. Kris headed toward the arena. The storm would not give them a break and made it nearly impossible to pick out anything from the darkness. Kris’ frustration was like something shredding his insides, and his rage bounced from the dark to Adam to Raj to himself, even while knowing none of them was really responsible.
The rage vanished completely when he saw the figure sitting on the steps, lit by the illumination at the huge backstage door. He knew instantly it was Adam.
“Oh thank God,” he said in a rush and broke into a run.
He slowed a few yards away, afraid his friend would take off again, mistaking Kris for someone or something else. “Adam?” he said softly.
He looked up. Even in the rain, you could tell he was crying. Kris closed the distance cautiously, but Adam only watched him. He looked battered and utterly exhausted. But there was recognition and no fear at all in his eyes.
Kris stood in front of him for a minute, just shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you hurt? I saw that truck hit you.”
“I hate the rain,” he said.
“Okay.” He took Adam’s arm, gently urging him to his feet. “Let’s get out of it." To his relief, Adam quietly stood and allowed himself to be guided by the pressure of Kris' hand.
* * *
Afterward, Adam was never able to remember the walk up the stairs and into the arena. It seemed as if suddenly they were inside under painfully bright lights. Kris was asking a security guard to find Samantha, and Adam was aware of being very, very cold.
“You’re bleeding.” Kris took his gashed hand and grimaced as he took in the damage. Adam’s teeth chattered. “We’ve got to get you out of these clothes.”
Kris was white with cold himself, and his hands were shaking. Together they stumbled to the arena showers and stood under them fully clothed, running the water almost completely hot. As the steam billowed around them, Adam looked over to see Kris watching him with his mouth slightly open and a strange expression. Caught staring, Kris looked away quickly, and Adam was too numb to worry about it.
With some effort, they peeled off their clothes, and when warmth had finally returned, were wrapping in towels when Samantha hurried in. She paid no attention to their state of undress, but took a deep breath and stared at Adam as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. “Okay, how are we?” She saw the blood on a towel Adam held in his hand. “What's that from?”
“I’m all right.” He was distant and formal. “Sorry about...everything.”
“We, uh, we need some clothes,” Kris said, holding his towel firmly closed.
"Geoff's turning around with the bus as soon as he gets everybody in the hotel. I'll have him bring something. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Adam's hand's hurt."
Samantha located a first aid kit and they moved to empty dressing room, where she bandaged the gash as best she could.
* * *
Kris watched tensely, afraid that any minute Adam would return to whatever state of mind had taken him through the window. Samantha alternated between eyeing Adam as if he might explode, looking to Kris for reassurance, and glancing at the door through which she expected Geoff to come. Adam remained detached, avoiding all eyes. But there seemed to be something different about him, a quality of strength, of balance, that had been absent for a long time. It was a vague sense, and Kris thought it might be his imagination.
Geoff stepped through the door and scanned the room, settling on Adam, draped in numerous towels.
"Nice look. I like it."
Adam managed an elegant shrug. "I want black towels next time. With rhinestones."
"Too many demands." Geoff put a stack of clothes down on the dressing table. To Samantha: "Do either of them need to see a doctor?"
"Uhhh--" A sideways glance at Adam as she stood up. "Let's talk outside."
"I'm not going to the doctor. I just want to go to my room. I'm not gonna freak out again."
They both gave him a look of complete disbelief and went out the door.
Kris heard Geoff say, "Raj has quit."
Samantha snapped back, "I already fired him, the little shit."
The door shut.
Adam reached for the clothes. Geoff had brought him a black jeans and a black t-shirt with a glittering skull and gold lettering. He handed Kris' clothes to him. "Hey, look. A plaid shirt. And Levis. Woooo."
Kris snatched them. "You are amazing. Even when you're run over by a truck and completely out of your mind you can be a butthead."
Adam looked at him without expression, and for a moment Kris was afraid he'd gone too far. Then Adam replied, "I wasn't run over by a truck. Turn around, I'm going to dress."
Kris laughed and made a 360, which brought him back to facing Adam, who gave a sardonic snort and began stripping off towels.
* * *
As they rode the bus to the hotel, Kris was sure there was a trace of smugness on Adam’s face. Geoff and Samantha had insisted on an emergency page to Dr. Chien. It was that or hospitalization, and Adam chose the phone call, in turn insisting the conversation be private, and when the phone was handed back to Geoff, the only instruction was to pick up a new prescription for Adam.
“Are you sure?” Geoff argued. “He kicked his way through a van window. They said he was-“ he looked up to see Adam watching him and turned around. “He was talking to the woman who died in the car accident he was in.” Geoff listened. “Okay. All right. You’re the expert.. I’ll call your office tomorrow and let them know which pharmacy.”
Geoff turned back to Adam. “You’re good. But I hope whatever you told him is close enough to the truth that this drug is gonna help you. Cause you need help.”
Now Kris watched Adam staring into the night as the bus hummed along. His eyes flickered for a moment at the rain on the window, and he looked down at his bandaged hand.
“Adam.”
Adam’s head turned slightly in his direction, but he said nothing.
“You could’ve been killed tonight. I know you talked Dr. Chien out of thinking that anything serious happened. But it did.”
“I had a panic attack. The rain…I’ve got bad associations with the rain--because of the accident. Freaked me out. Not a big deal.”
“Adam.”
“Mm?”
“I was there.”
Adam sent Kris a slow, bitter smile. “I am really getting tired of how much you see.” Then he looked away and said simply, “It’s not gonna happen again.”
“Of course it will. Nothing’s changed.”
“Yeah, it has." He put fingertips to the rain-streaked window.
"How?"
"I--I made peace.”
“With…with yourself? With Carrie?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you need to talk about it. You need to-“
“No. I don’t. What happened, happened to me. I don't want to open it up to share it. Maybe someday. Maybe not."
"So...you're fine?" Kris couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.
"No, I'm not fine.” He met Kris’ eyes. “But...I'm at a place I can get back from.”
* * *
When Adam reached the door of his room, Kris was beside him. It was touching. And infuriating.
He shoved the card in the lock and opened the door just a fraction. “Go to your room.”
Kris pushed the door open and walked in.
“For god’s sake, are you gonna take my bed again?” He followed Kris in, and the door shut behind him. “I’m too tired for this shit. I feel like I’ve been--"
“Hit by a truck.”
“I swear I’m not gonna jump out the window. Just go to your own room. Please. I really appreciate-“ He broke off. “There’s no way to thank you for what you’ve done for me, and-“
“Yeah, there is.” Kris looked at him intently, then reached up and pulled his mouth down to his and kissed him. It was deep and hungry and very definite in what it wanted.
Kris released him, and Adam stared.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m trying to be honest. But--" Kris looked at him searchingly. "I'm scared. With everything else that's happened, maybe this is the night to stop running. Maybe you can help me.”
What the fuck is he talking about? And what the hell was he doing kissing me? He's crazy. I'm not the only one who's had a breakdown.
Kris continued to stare at him, a look that didn't contradict the conclusion of his insanity, combining what appeared to be panic with some kind of burning focus.
"It's okay," Adam told him. "Whatever it is, I'll help you." He reached out his good hand and squeezed Kris' shoulder gently. To his amazement, Kris covered the hand with his, then lifted it from his shoulder and stared at his fingers. Then very slowly took them into his mouth.
Something like an electric vibration went through Adam from head to toe.
"Kris. I'm tired, but I'm not dead. Do not do that."
Kris took Adam's fingers out of his mouth, but twined them with his hand. "I keep having these dreams. And I can't stop thinking about you."
Adam could feel his heart jolting in his body. Take it easy. Try to get some clarity here.
"What kind of dreams?"
Kris looked down finally. "Good ones."
Adam waited. If Kris was saying what he thought he was, it still had to come from him. I'm not making the same mistake again.
"What do you want, Kris?"
"I'm afraid of what I want."
"Why?"
"I--I don't know. I guess conditioning."
"Then maybe you don't really want it." Adam freed his hand and took a couple steps back. "Go on. Go to your room. You're tired, and you can't think. I don't want to be part of something you would regret."
Kris didn't move. Even his stare was frozen, paralyzed by whatever forces tore at him, each cancelling the effect of the other.
Adam walked by him. "Geoff said he had our stuff put in our rooms, but I don't see--oh, yeah, there it--"
Kris jerked him around. And the look in his eyes was no longer conflicted. "I want you," he said in a voice Adam had never heard before.
For a moment Adam was wordless, and he felt the press of Kris' body as he pulled them together.
"Now," Kris said insistently.
Adam's heart pounded, and he forgot about being tired, although he was having trouble catching his breath. "Well. Okay."
# # #