Fic: We're Not In Kansas Anymore (Or Iraq) (McKay/Sheppard, R)
Title: We're Not In Kansas Anymore (Or Iraq)
Author: amy_thrace821
Recipient: losyark
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay; Colbert/Fick implied.
Rating: R for language, and some violence.
Word count: 2,500
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either Stargate: Atlantis, or Generation Kill. If I did, both would still be on the air, and I would be married to Brad Colbert.
Author's Note: for losyark , who wanted McShep, and either AU, Crossover, or Vampirism. I went with crossover, of the Generation Kill variety. She likes some angst, but happy endings, and fish-out-of-water stories. While she prefers McShep as the main characters, I hope she's okay with an outsider's perspective on McShep and Atlantis in general.
Summary: The Pegasus galaxy is worlds away-literally- from Baghdad, but some things never change. Like wanting someone you shouldn't want. And Commanding Officers who can't seem to keep their distance from their team. (Crossover with Generation Kill, although you don't need to know anything about that to read this. You can just pretend Brad is an OC.)
Sergeant Brad 'Iceman' Colbert was not a happy man. He hid this fact quite well, of course, but the fact remained. It wasn't enough that he'd been forced to suffer through the idiocy of Baghdad with incompetent superiors who wouldn't know their ass from a Hajji's face, but now he was being sent to some middle-of-nowhere base where his already wasted talents would be completely disregarded? He was a fucking Recon Marine, dammit, not some pansy-ass Air Force dick sucker who wouldn't last two seconds in a real fire fight. Seriously, Colorado? What the fuck was in Colorado? Nothing.
And as if the orders themselves weren't insulting enough, he was supposed to report to some POG named Sheppard who wasn't even a Marine? This shit was fucked up. This shit was straight up screwby, as Stafford would say. Brad could practically taste the wasted potential in this hellhole. Shit. Where was Nate when you needed him?
Oh yeah, back in D.C., being the liberal law-abiding, straight-laced, "of course I didn't enjoy killing anyone, it was my duty" paper-pusher that he was now.
Yep, and that was his mood hitting rock bottom. If this Air Force Colonel didn't show up in the next two minutes, Brad was going to show this base just how he earned the nickname 'Iceman'.
Luckily for the base, and probably his mother's heart, a man who appeared to take the grooming standard as his own personal joke, with a haircut as non-regulation as that, sauntered up. Sauntered. Motherfucking piece of whiskey-tango sister-loving shit.
Nate would be in conniptions right now. He really missed his old Platoon.
He missed Ray.
Fuck it, he missed Trombley.
The next six months were going to suck big fat hairy balls. And not in a good way.
So. Aliens. Something called a Stargate. Other planets. If he didn't know any better, he'd think this was Person just playing some huge joke on him.
On the upside, it sounded like he might actually get to do what he'd been trained to do. That part would be nice.
Alright, so for a flyboy, Sheppard wasn't actually so bad. He probably should have been in the Marines, come to think of it. A guy like that, someone Brad could actually stand? Definitely wasn't meant for the Air Force. Plus, Marines liked him. Marines were supposed to hate any non-Marines as a general rule. Looked like this guy was bent on breaking the curve.
Not to mention, he actually knew what he was doing. The world was definitely coming to an end when Brad had more faith in an Air Force commanding officer than a Marine commanding officer. He might've actually gotten a slight headache at the thought.
This guy though, Sheppard, he was just...different. The stories that were floating around amongst the newest recruits, about daring rescue missions, various captures and subsequent releases of the teams, scenes of torture, fights with the enemies, it was all just...not something he'd expected of a flyboy. Just a few minutes ago he'd heard the Marines on the other side of the table gossiping (like the little Air Force bitches they were) about the time Sheppard apparently took on a whole invading Army single-handedly, when they'd been invaded during a storm. The guy supposedly killed over sixty enemies on that day.
Brad might be just the slightest bit impressed. Not that he'd ever admit it.
One thing was for sure, though. This commanding officer he'd gained was the biggest mystery he'd had in a while. An Air Force officer with the mentality of a Marine, but the outward appearance of a California surfer bum.
Brad's been in Atlantis for three months when it happens. While, unlike Baghdad, he's actually been called upon to use the skills driven into him as a Recon Marine many times here, so far the extent of his Recon has been fairly tame. This time, however, Brad knows there won't be anything tame about it, and he misses his brothers from Bravo Company so much in that instant that he's embarrassed.
The recon mission, however, sets his head back on straight. Apparently SGA-1 had left on a routine mission at 0900 hours this morning. They'd missed their priority check in at 1200 hours, however in a galaxy like Pegasus, he'd been told that sort of thing happened occasionally, so they didn't start worrying until 1300 came around and there was still no word.
Now, it's 1330 and Brad's about to step into the Stargate to do what is quite possibly going to be the best recon mission he's ever been on. Recon on a whole different planet. This shit is unreal.
Luckily for Brad and his men, the Stargate is located outside of town, with only two men guarding it, and they're easily dispatched. The town itself is only three clicks away, and they cover the ground quickly.
At the town boundary, Brad splits the men up, sending four to the rear of the town for recon while the other three men and he stick to the front.
The town is simple enough, about thirty one-story buildings that are on par with the majority of those he saw in Iraq. The majority of them are houses, with the exception of the one large building that serves as the town's all-purpose building. What little government they have is obviously housed there, and the small building attached to the eastern side is what passes for a cell.
Brad and his men sneak up along the side of the building, meeting up with the other team at the back entrance. The back door is unlocked, providing easy entrance, and the hallway is deserted. While this makes their journey easier, it doesn't bode well for the members of SGA-1.
Another man stands outside the door leading to the jail cells, and Stanton, one of the men from the other team, is able to take him down easily from behind. A quick stop to take the keys from the incapacitated guard and they're in.
The members of SGA-1 are inside, as expected, with one small problem.
Colonel Sheppard isn't with them.
Of course he isn't, because this mission was going entirely too well up to this point, and Brad's missions never go well. Brad's musings are cut off by McKay's voice.
"Oh thank God you guys are here! We've been stuck in this cage for hours, and Sheppard's been gone at least two. Nobody will tell us anything. Have you seen him? Is he okay?" McKay's rambling at warp-speed, and it's easy to see by his pale color that the guy is pretty damn worried about his team leader.
Brad checks with his man guarding the door to make sure they're still in the clear, and then goes over to unlock the cell, releasing the team. "We haven't seen him yet, but as soon as Bravo leaves with you three, Alpha will canvas the town until we find him, and bring him back. You have my word," Brad assures them.
Only apparently that isn't good enough for McKay, or the rest of the team for that matter, since McKay is shaking his head furiously, and Dex and Teyla look about as stubborn as he's ever seen them.
"No, no, no. We aren't leaving here without Sheppard. We're going with you to find him. There is no way in hell we're leaving a member of our team behind. Sheppard wouldn't do that to us, and we're not going to do that to him," McKay argues.
"Sheppard is team. You save your own," Dex adds, and Teyla nods in agreement.
Well, this just made his life harder, but what else is new? "Fine, but you move where I say, when I saw, no questions. Got it?"
Luckily, Sheppard's team seemed to listen to him for once, and they all agreed to his terms.
Finding Sheppard isn't actually all that hard. When they meet up with Bravo at the back entrance and make their way down the other end of the hallway, leading to the main portion of the building.
Sheppard's there all right.
Shackled and hanging from a cross-beam in the ceiling, almost on his tip-toes. His face is jacked up, eye bruising already and blood running from a cut in his lip, but it's his back that's seen the worst damage. A man stands behind Sheppard, long leather whip in hand, and it cracks against Sheppard's skin loudly.
McKay makes this pained noise in the back of his throat, and Dex looks ready to take on the whole room single-handedly. It's time to get their man out.
Recon Marines are supposed to be the silent killers. After Iraq, however, Brad learned to live with the fact that sometimes you have to go big or go home to get the job done. This is one of those times.
Brad dispatches his men to flank all the exits, and at his command they storm in, guns raised. The sight of eight heavily armed and dangerous men, plus three more who look pissed off enough to do damage without the guns, is enough for the people of this ass-backwards planet to let Sheppard go.
All told, they're out in twenty minutes.
Sheppard is propped up in bed on his side, asleep, by the time Brad makes it down to the infirmary to see him. His face looks worse than it did before, and his insufferable hair has finally fallen flat. All told, he looks awful. The area is quiet at this time of night, and everyone's either asleep or quietly doing paperwork.
He's only there a couple of minutes, occupying a seat in a darkened corner of the room, when McKay comes in. He seems to hesitate at the doorway, just staring at Sheppard for a few long seconds, before quietly making his way to the man's bedside. Brad watches as McKay brings his hand up to rest just above Sheppard's, not touching but close, before dropping it to rest next to Sheppard's hand on the bed. He takes a seat in the chair by the bed and just stares at Sheppard for the next five minutes.
Apparently even being doped up on drugs isn't enough to completely wipe away Sheppard's instincts, though, since he seems to feel McKay's gaze and begins to stir.
"Hey," Sheppard rasps, and McKay starts, answering back quickly in the same hushed tone. Then they simply stare at each other, neither speaking.
Brad's beginning to think that maybe these two are a little more than just team members. Not that he'll ever ask.
A slight movement brings Brad's attention back to the duo, and he watches as Sheppard moves his hand the few scant inches it takes to brush McKay's. He leaves it there, just pressed up against McKay's, not holding hands but not breaking contact.
Well. Just when you thought the Armed Forces couldn't get any more homoerotic. Brad's beginning to suspect that there isn't a commanding officer around who isn't at least a little bit bent.
Of course, Marines are known to get just as handsy after a near-death experience, and any soldier around will tell you that no one is closer to you than the men you serve with. So maybe there's nothing going on besides a deep friendship.
Yeah, and maybe Brad didn't want to fuck Nate Fick like it was the last thing he did.
One thing was for sure, though. Brad had better things to do then watch these two shoot little heart's at each other with their eyes. Like sleeping.
Three weeks later, when Sheppard's out of the hospital, and Brad's been out on three more recon missions involving planets who seem to think kidnapping is a-okay, Brad's walking down the hallways of Atlantis, just about to turn the corner onto the balcony, when he hears voices. Stopping just short of the turn, Brad creeps up to the corner, interested.
The voices are hushed, but he can just make out the words, and he recognizes Sheppard's low drawl.
"We shouldn't-"
"Are you kidding me," the second voice interrupts, just barely raised. "Please tell me you're not actually being this stupid, that I haven't misjudged your intelligence this badly." The voice pauses for a few seconds, before whoever it is takes a deep breath. "Look John, I get that you're scared, I do. I am too. But we've been doing this for a long time, years. Just because we suddenly have a super-human Viking Recon Marine on the base, it doesn't mean that we're going to be exposed. We just have to be careful about what we do, and when we do it, and make sure we're not obvious. It's easy. You're worrying too much."
Sheppard sighs, and there's silence for another few seconds, before the second voice begins speaking once again, more hesitantly this time, and Brad finally recognizes McKay's voice. "Unless you don't want to? Which is fine, if you don't want to do this anymore, I get it, I really do, and I won't be mad, just tell-"
"Jesus, Rodney, no, of course not! Do you really think I'd do that?" Sheppard seemed to struggle to get the next sentence out. "I know I don't....really say it enough...but I....you're-I mean..."
"Oh my God, just shut up before you give yourself an aneurism or something. I swear, every time you try and talk about your feelings, I feel like it's a gamble for your life or something. You are so disturbed."
"But you love me," Sheppard butts in, cutting McKay off.
"Despite my better judgment, you do seem to have taken up a very large part of my affection," McKay sniffs.
Brad snorts. These two were worse than he and Nate, and they were repressed homosexual Marines.
"Me too," Sheppard states quietly, and then all conversation drops off, as the shifting of clothing picks up, and Brad knows that the physical portion of the make-up has begun.
Turning on his heel to head back to his quarters, Brad's thoughts wandered to Nate. Nate, who'd been the first guy he'd done more than combat jack's with, who trusted him implicitly, and who understood him on a level no one else came close to. Nate, who had cut off their non-relationship before it even went anywhere, on the basis that it could hurt Brad's career.
Perhaps it was time for Brad to use some of the Marine force he was known for. His tour in Atlantis would be finished in two more months, and he'd have a good six weeks before he was shipped out anywhere else, assuming he didn't get shuffled somewhere stateside. Brad was going to use that time to track down Mr. Bureaucrat, and he wasn't going to leave until Nate gave in.
After all, if a bitch-ass flyboy could keep up a covert relationship, and be happy, Brad could do it with his eyes closed. And with less girly angsting.
Author: amy_thrace821
Recipient: losyark
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay; Colbert/Fick implied.
Rating: R for language, and some violence.
Word count: 2,500
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either Stargate: Atlantis, or Generation Kill. If I did, both would still be on the air, and I would be married to Brad Colbert.
Author's Note: for losyark , who wanted McShep, and either AU, Crossover, or Vampirism. I went with crossover, of the Generation Kill variety. She likes some angst, but happy endings, and fish-out-of-water stories. While she prefers McShep as the main characters, I hope she's okay with an outsider's perspective on McShep and Atlantis in general.
Summary: The Pegasus galaxy is worlds away-literally- from Baghdad, but some things never change. Like wanting someone you shouldn't want. And Commanding Officers who can't seem to keep their distance from their team. (Crossover with Generation Kill, although you don't need to know anything about that to read this. You can just pretend Brad is an OC.)
Sergeant Brad 'Iceman' Colbert was not a happy man. He hid this fact quite well, of course, but the fact remained. It wasn't enough that he'd been forced to suffer through the idiocy of Baghdad with incompetent superiors who wouldn't know their ass from a Hajji's face, but now he was being sent to some middle-of-nowhere base where his already wasted talents would be completely disregarded? He was a fucking Recon Marine, dammit, not some pansy-ass Air Force dick sucker who wouldn't last two seconds in a real fire fight. Seriously, Colorado? What the fuck was in Colorado? Nothing.
And as if the orders themselves weren't insulting enough, he was supposed to report to some POG named Sheppard who wasn't even a Marine? This shit was fucked up. This shit was straight up screwby, as Stafford would say. Brad could practically taste the wasted potential in this hellhole. Shit. Where was Nate when you needed him?
Oh yeah, back in D.C., being the liberal law-abiding, straight-laced, "of course I didn't enjoy killing anyone, it was my duty" paper-pusher that he was now.
Yep, and that was his mood hitting rock bottom. If this Air Force Colonel didn't show up in the next two minutes, Brad was going to show this base just how he earned the nickname 'Iceman'.
Luckily for the base, and probably his mother's heart, a man who appeared to take the grooming standard as his own personal joke, with a haircut as non-regulation as that, sauntered up. Sauntered. Motherfucking piece of whiskey-tango sister-loving shit.
Nate would be in conniptions right now. He really missed his old Platoon.
He missed Ray.
Fuck it, he missed Trombley.
The next six months were going to suck big fat hairy balls. And not in a good way.
So. Aliens. Something called a Stargate. Other planets. If he didn't know any better, he'd think this was Person just playing some huge joke on him.
On the upside, it sounded like he might actually get to do what he'd been trained to do. That part would be nice.
Alright, so for a flyboy, Sheppard wasn't actually so bad. He probably should have been in the Marines, come to think of it. A guy like that, someone Brad could actually stand? Definitely wasn't meant for the Air Force. Plus, Marines liked him. Marines were supposed to hate any non-Marines as a general rule. Looked like this guy was bent on breaking the curve.
Not to mention, he actually knew what he was doing. The world was definitely coming to an end when Brad had more faith in an Air Force commanding officer than a Marine commanding officer. He might've actually gotten a slight headache at the thought.
This guy though, Sheppard, he was just...different. The stories that were floating around amongst the newest recruits, about daring rescue missions, various captures and subsequent releases of the teams, scenes of torture, fights with the enemies, it was all just...not something he'd expected of a flyboy. Just a few minutes ago he'd heard the Marines on the other side of the table gossiping (like the little Air Force bitches they were) about the time Sheppard apparently took on a whole invading Army single-handedly, when they'd been invaded during a storm. The guy supposedly killed over sixty enemies on that day.
Brad might be just the slightest bit impressed. Not that he'd ever admit it.
One thing was for sure, though. This commanding officer he'd gained was the biggest mystery he'd had in a while. An Air Force officer with the mentality of a Marine, but the outward appearance of a California surfer bum.
Brad's been in Atlantis for three months when it happens. While, unlike Baghdad, he's actually been called upon to use the skills driven into him as a Recon Marine many times here, so far the extent of his Recon has been fairly tame. This time, however, Brad knows there won't be anything tame about it, and he misses his brothers from Bravo Company so much in that instant that he's embarrassed.
The recon mission, however, sets his head back on straight. Apparently SGA-1 had left on a routine mission at 0900 hours this morning. They'd missed their priority check in at 1200 hours, however in a galaxy like Pegasus, he'd been told that sort of thing happened occasionally, so they didn't start worrying until 1300 came around and there was still no word.
Now, it's 1330 and Brad's about to step into the Stargate to do what is quite possibly going to be the best recon mission he's ever been on. Recon on a whole different planet. This shit is unreal.
Luckily for Brad and his men, the Stargate is located outside of town, with only two men guarding it, and they're easily dispatched. The town itself is only three clicks away, and they cover the ground quickly.
At the town boundary, Brad splits the men up, sending four to the rear of the town for recon while the other three men and he stick to the front.
The town is simple enough, about thirty one-story buildings that are on par with the majority of those he saw in Iraq. The majority of them are houses, with the exception of the one large building that serves as the town's all-purpose building. What little government they have is obviously housed there, and the small building attached to the eastern side is what passes for a cell.
Brad and his men sneak up along the side of the building, meeting up with the other team at the back entrance. The back door is unlocked, providing easy entrance, and the hallway is deserted. While this makes their journey easier, it doesn't bode well for the members of SGA-1.
Another man stands outside the door leading to the jail cells, and Stanton, one of the men from the other team, is able to take him down easily from behind. A quick stop to take the keys from the incapacitated guard and they're in.
The members of SGA-1 are inside, as expected, with one small problem.
Colonel Sheppard isn't with them.
Of course he isn't, because this mission was going entirely too well up to this point, and Brad's missions never go well. Brad's musings are cut off by McKay's voice.
"Oh thank God you guys are here! We've been stuck in this cage for hours, and Sheppard's been gone at least two. Nobody will tell us anything. Have you seen him? Is he okay?" McKay's rambling at warp-speed, and it's easy to see by his pale color that the guy is pretty damn worried about his team leader.
Brad checks with his man guarding the door to make sure they're still in the clear, and then goes over to unlock the cell, releasing the team. "We haven't seen him yet, but as soon as Bravo leaves with you three, Alpha will canvas the town until we find him, and bring him back. You have my word," Brad assures them.
Only apparently that isn't good enough for McKay, or the rest of the team for that matter, since McKay is shaking his head furiously, and Dex and Teyla look about as stubborn as he's ever seen them.
"No, no, no. We aren't leaving here without Sheppard. We're going with you to find him. There is no way in hell we're leaving a member of our team behind. Sheppard wouldn't do that to us, and we're not going to do that to him," McKay argues.
"Sheppard is team. You save your own," Dex adds, and Teyla nods in agreement.
Well, this just made his life harder, but what else is new? "Fine, but you move where I say, when I saw, no questions. Got it?"
Luckily, Sheppard's team seemed to listen to him for once, and they all agreed to his terms.
Finding Sheppard isn't actually all that hard. When they meet up with Bravo at the back entrance and make their way down the other end of the hallway, leading to the main portion of the building.
Sheppard's there all right.
Shackled and hanging from a cross-beam in the ceiling, almost on his tip-toes. His face is jacked up, eye bruising already and blood running from a cut in his lip, but it's his back that's seen the worst damage. A man stands behind Sheppard, long leather whip in hand, and it cracks against Sheppard's skin loudly.
McKay makes this pained noise in the back of his throat, and Dex looks ready to take on the whole room single-handedly. It's time to get their man out.
Recon Marines are supposed to be the silent killers. After Iraq, however, Brad learned to live with the fact that sometimes you have to go big or go home to get the job done. This is one of those times.
Brad dispatches his men to flank all the exits, and at his command they storm in, guns raised. The sight of eight heavily armed and dangerous men, plus three more who look pissed off enough to do damage without the guns, is enough for the people of this ass-backwards planet to let Sheppard go.
All told, they're out in twenty minutes.
Sheppard is propped up in bed on his side, asleep, by the time Brad makes it down to the infirmary to see him. His face looks worse than it did before, and his insufferable hair has finally fallen flat. All told, he looks awful. The area is quiet at this time of night, and everyone's either asleep or quietly doing paperwork.
He's only there a couple of minutes, occupying a seat in a darkened corner of the room, when McKay comes in. He seems to hesitate at the doorway, just staring at Sheppard for a few long seconds, before quietly making his way to the man's bedside. Brad watches as McKay brings his hand up to rest just above Sheppard's, not touching but close, before dropping it to rest next to Sheppard's hand on the bed. He takes a seat in the chair by the bed and just stares at Sheppard for the next five minutes.
Apparently even being doped up on drugs isn't enough to completely wipe away Sheppard's instincts, though, since he seems to feel McKay's gaze and begins to stir.
"Hey," Sheppard rasps, and McKay starts, answering back quickly in the same hushed tone. Then they simply stare at each other, neither speaking.
Brad's beginning to think that maybe these two are a little more than just team members. Not that he'll ever ask.
A slight movement brings Brad's attention back to the duo, and he watches as Sheppard moves his hand the few scant inches it takes to brush McKay's. He leaves it there, just pressed up against McKay's, not holding hands but not breaking contact.
Well. Just when you thought the Armed Forces couldn't get any more homoerotic. Brad's beginning to suspect that there isn't a commanding officer around who isn't at least a little bit bent.
Of course, Marines are known to get just as handsy after a near-death experience, and any soldier around will tell you that no one is closer to you than the men you serve with. So maybe there's nothing going on besides a deep friendship.
Yeah, and maybe Brad didn't want to fuck Nate Fick like it was the last thing he did.
One thing was for sure, though. Brad had better things to do then watch these two shoot little heart's at each other with their eyes. Like sleeping.
Three weeks later, when Sheppard's out of the hospital, and Brad's been out on three more recon missions involving planets who seem to think kidnapping is a-okay, Brad's walking down the hallways of Atlantis, just about to turn the corner onto the balcony, when he hears voices. Stopping just short of the turn, Brad creeps up to the corner, interested.
The voices are hushed, but he can just make out the words, and he recognizes Sheppard's low drawl.
"We shouldn't-"
"Are you kidding me," the second voice interrupts, just barely raised. "Please tell me you're not actually being this stupid, that I haven't misjudged your intelligence this badly." The voice pauses for a few seconds, before whoever it is takes a deep breath. "Look John, I get that you're scared, I do. I am too. But we've been doing this for a long time, years. Just because we suddenly have a super-human Viking Recon Marine on the base, it doesn't mean that we're going to be exposed. We just have to be careful about what we do, and when we do it, and make sure we're not obvious. It's easy. You're worrying too much."
Sheppard sighs, and there's silence for another few seconds, before the second voice begins speaking once again, more hesitantly this time, and Brad finally recognizes McKay's voice. "Unless you don't want to? Which is fine, if you don't want to do this anymore, I get it, I really do, and I won't be mad, just tell-"
"Jesus, Rodney, no, of course not! Do you really think I'd do that?" Sheppard seemed to struggle to get the next sentence out. "I know I don't....really say it enough...but I....you're-I mean..."
"Oh my God, just shut up before you give yourself an aneurism or something. I swear, every time you try and talk about your feelings, I feel like it's a gamble for your life or something. You are so disturbed."
"But you love me," Sheppard butts in, cutting McKay off.
"Despite my better judgment, you do seem to have taken up a very large part of my affection," McKay sniffs.
Brad snorts. These two were worse than he and Nate, and they were repressed homosexual Marines.
"Me too," Sheppard states quietly, and then all conversation drops off, as the shifting of clothing picks up, and Brad knows that the physical portion of the make-up has begun.
Turning on his heel to head back to his quarters, Brad's thoughts wandered to Nate. Nate, who'd been the first guy he'd done more than combat jack's with, who trusted him implicitly, and who understood him on a level no one else came close to. Nate, who had cut off their non-relationship before it even went anywhere, on the basis that it could hurt Brad's career.
Perhaps it was time for Brad to use some of the Marine force he was known for. His tour in Atlantis would be finished in two more months, and he'd have a good six weeks before he was shipped out anywhere else, assuming he didn't get shuffled somewhere stateside. Brad was going to use that time to track down Mr. Bureaucrat, and he wasn't going to leave until Nate gave in.
After all, if a bitch-ass flyboy could keep up a covert relationship, and be happy, Brad could do it with his eyes closed. And with less girly angsting.