Just after 9:30 p.m., Garrett pulled the Jaguar XK off the freeway, onto exit 12 toward Los Angles International Airport. Spencer's flight was supposed to land at 10:15. A recent rainstorm had come and gone, leaving the pavement smeared with the dull yellow glare of streetlights as they moved over the mostly empty streets. 

The car's radio played the last notes of a song being belted out by the undeniable Billie Holiday, until the quiet voice of the late-night host announced that it was time for the evening news. Garrett reached forward and switched off the radio as he pulled the car into the parking lot. 

"Not listening to that mess tonight. Just more about the corruption in the Los Angeles city government and funding being mismanaged. It's mind-numbing."

He maneuvered the vehicle into a space near the terminal and put into park, but left the engine running for warmth.

"You know, I've already been around you people too much. Sometimes I think this whole city would be better off it your boss ran this place. I've never once heard any of you complain about lack of funding or corruption."

The thought made him chuckle as he settled back in his seat and clicked off his seatbelt. Glancing over, he briefly studied his passenger's expression. He knew of recent events that had come her way; but only small details that Amira had mentioned. Garrett had a strict rule that no one give him information that wasn't theirs to give. If people wanted to talk to him, they would, and they could. Still, his practiced senses cold tell the young woman had been struggling some. So, offered a cheerful further comment.

"And you- look at how far you've come. Amira found quite a prodigy with you, didn't she?"

Viridia stared out into the night sky, tapping the tips of her fingers against her knee. The black fabric of her slacks and coat made her legs look invisible in the dark, and her pale face seemed to float disconnectedly when she caught a glimpse of her reflection. 

She could see herself more clearly in the glass when Garrett parked the car. She looked so different than the girl Amira had scooped up from Scripps. Another lifetime ago. Garrett's chatter pulled her out of her reminiscences.

"Which boss do you mean? Amira? Or the Godfather?"

She still had to meet Tyki Mikk; the man was so busy, so it was understandable, of course. Still, maybe someday. At least it was something to look forward to. One of the few things.

"A prodigy? I don't know about that. I'm stronger, definitely. I've got a lot more money. But..."

Viridia halted.

"If I tell you something, you can't tell anyone else, right? Doctors orders or something? Hippocratic oath? Some sort of privacy/secrecy thing, like a priest?"

Garrett huffed a laugh, which he quickly tried to stifle behind a reassuring smile.

"Well, no one has ever accused me of being priestly; but of course. You can share anything you like and I shall file it away under doctor-client privilege."

He turned in his seat just a bit, so that he was facing her, and folded his hands into his lap casually. He had grown accustomed to conversations beginning this way; which he found amusing. Before his interview with Garrett so many months ago, the last thing he thought he wanted to do was listen to people's problems. Garrett had wanted action and excitement- he wanted to be applauded for his sharp incite and ability to connect the dots in criminal cases and peer into the minds of the country's most violent criminals. 

Now, he practically broke bread every day with some of the country's most violent criminals; they were his friends. More and more, he was finding he didn't need any applause at all for his sharp incite. He was more than satisfied just helping them muddle through their own, fascinating day-to-day...and occasionally getting dragged into some insane situation that would end up in a best-selling memoir in a few decades. 

"Or, if you'd prefer, just the word of a good friend who happens to have a doctorate from Harvard University."

Viridia saw Garrett shift toward her, but she kept looking forward out of the car. A plane had just lifted off, and its light grew dimmer as it rose into the cloudy sky. She bit the inside of her lower lip, trying to speak in a way that would suggest a casual inquiry.

"So I know you've been working with Amira for a while. And you understand criminal types. I was just wondering, like, how common it was to feel bored. Empty."

The word was too serious, so she buried it under a follow up comment, speaking quickly.

"I mean, obviously I've accomplished a lot. I help Amira. I'm strong. But like- what do people do, you know?"

Empty. That was an interesting choice of words. Bored is one level, empty is another level entirely.

Garrett looked thoughtful for a moment before he began.

"Let me ask you something, Viridia. You made a big transition in a rather small amount of time, didn't you? One day you were a college girl, nursing student, and moonlighting small-time drug producer. Less than 24 hours later, all of that was, very literally, up in smoke; and with no other real plans you joined this life. 'This,' being what most people romanticize to be a life of guns, money, women, booze, and fame. Something like a celebrity?"

A couple passed by a few feet from the car; the man carrying all the luggage and the woman only a purse.

"The every-day of a criminal isn't always what it looks like in the movies, and you've come to that realization. Amira does her work with the Seraphinium because if she didn't she might well die of boredom without things to fight. Street-level thugs, those kinds of criminals; they have to be ready to fight all the time. These people, your people now, there are massive layers of insulation between you and the rabble. That's the way it's supposed to be. You are too valuable now to be near all of that. But, that means the action is slower in coming, and in that I can see where you may feel that you're not doing anything."

He paused, not wanting to broach a subject too much without letting her do it first.

"But, empty...that's a horse of a different color all together. 'Bored' is missing action; 'empty' is missing pieces of you."

Garrett let that hang in the air for a moment, watching Viridia for a reaction with a gentle look on his face.

Viridia looked down at the dashboard, crossing her arms and her legs as she leaned against the window.

"'Bored' is missing action; 'empty' is missing pieces of you."​​​​​

Fuck.

Damn, stupid, smart, fucking doctor. 

"Fine. So let's say I'm missing pieces of myself. What do I do about it?"

Internally, Garrett grinned. This was not the time, but in the few times he'd been around Viridia, he'd taken quite a liking to her sometimes fiery, sometimes perhaps stubborn temperament. Maybe it was the red hair. Either way, he could tell she didn't need coddling.

"Well, that depends on what exactly is missing."

Reaching slightly across her, Garrett opened the glove box and pulled out a packet of gum. He took out the last remaining stick of gum from it's foil wrapping and held it up in the car's interior light.

"This is my favorite chewing gum. I greatly enjoy it's flavor, and it perfectly covers the smell of brandy on my breath when I've been drinking over lunch. I really do enjoy this gum."

With that, he popped it into his mouth and began to chew it, then looked down at the empty pack still in his hand.

"Damn. Now I'm out and I am awfully disappointed. I'm not going to be able to get any more of it." He glanced up at Viridia. "Until I stop at the convenience store tomorrow and replace it."

He tossed the pack back into the glove box and closed it.

"People...those can't be replaced. Not by things, not by work, not by sex or booze or anything one might try to distract themselves with. The hell of it is that we try so hard to fill the void, but that's a hole that is far too uniquely shaped to fill with anything else. So, what you have to do is change your perspective of the void. Right now, that void may feel to you like emptiness- the big black hole where something is supposed to be that isn't anymore. So rather than approach it, you would rather build a wall around it and not have to look at it. But, if you do that, you're still missing that part of you. Instead, learn to sit with it- just a little at a time, day by day. You may react to the void, but the void isn't going to react to you; so, do whatever you have to in order to get used to its presence. Cry, hit something, yell at someone; but every now and then, try throwing something pleasant at the void. A happy memory, a favorite song, something. Eventually- and it may take time- but eventually you'll find that you can sit in the room with that void, and that you've begun to fill the void with memories of the person, or persons, that used to be there. And then...well...then it won't be so hard to sit with anymore."

Viridia blinked at Garrett when he reached across her to the glove box.

Why did I think he was going to rest his hand on my knee?

She shook her head, clearing out her thoughts as she listened to him. 

Maybe he's right. My parents dying. I don't even have friends, really, outside of Amira. Spencer. Doc. Maybe Candice... I should see what she's doing. 

"Okay." 

Viri took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Doc. I'll think about it."

"Almost there. Goddamn it, Spence, just keep walking."

He could see Garrett's Jag parked right near the entrance of the parking lot, but it seemed like it was five miles away. The duffel bag in his hand weighed about 100 pounds; though it only held a disassembled rifle, a few magazines, a blood-soaked blue shirt, some blood-stained gauze, and a few small, empty bottles of vodka. The pain in his shoulder wasn't so much pain now as it was numb, but throbbing. It was the rest of his body that was starting to betray him. He felt a chill, which made no sense because it was Los Angeles and had to be at least 70 degrees even at night. Reaching up with his good arm, he swiped at the sheen of sweat on his forehead and kept moving. He'd be in his apartment soon- and after a good sleep, he'd finally see her.

----

Garrett was about to say something witty when his eyes briefly moved past Viridia and caught sight of a familiar figure silhouetted by the intermittent lighting of the parking lot. He straightened up and reached for the door handle to get out, a grin growing on his face. The two had cemented a true friendship, and it was easy to see when they were working together.

"There's our lad. Finally back to join us from your vacation in sunny--"

He cut his banter off cold. Something wasn't right about Spencer's gait, or his posture.  Spencer usually carried himself like one would think a career soldier would- square shoulders, a near march when he walked. As his friend drew closer, Garrett picked up on a more hunched-over posture, slightly aslant toward the right. Then, he stumbled a bit before catching himself.

Garrett reached back and opened Viridia's door, not taking his eyes off Spencer. His voice was softer, but there was alarm.

"Viridia...."

He moved away from the door and went to Spencer, taking the duffel bag from him. His friend's face was pale and steaked with sweat.

"Spence? You look like shit, man. Did you ride the wing of the plane back?"

Spencer leaned against the car, tucking his right arm tight against his side and not even really noticing the duffel bag had been taken. He shook his head slowly.

"Tired, bud. Just need some sleep."

Viridia watched Spencer's walk with wide eyes. The man who'd helped train her how fight wasn't nearly as graceful as Amira, but he usually moved with a certain power in his stride. But this? Something was off. 

Was he high? Didn't seem the type. 

No- he was hurt. 

Viridia climbed into the back seat and stared at Spencer with a feline intensity as he struggled into the seat next to her. She made eye contact with Garrett, who closed the door and returned to the driver's seat. 

Spencer was slouched over in the seat, not making eye contact with her as he leaned his right shoulder on the window and favored his left. Viridia reached out and gingerly drew back his jacket, catching a glimpse of bloodstains on blue fabric in the streetlights before Spencer grunted and shifted. He waved a hand at Viridia to keep her away, but she easily caught his wrist- a concerning sign in and of itself, but especially when he didn't resist further.

"Doc, drive me to that underground clinic Amira set up for me downtown. Spencer caught a bullet."

The old building had been used by some of the lowlifes that Amira had dealt with; Amira had set it up as an emergency medical clinic just in case Viridia had a need to put her old training to good use. Her voice was calm and direct; with a task in front of her, her malaise faded away. 

"You're going to drive me there, help me get Spencer on the table, then call Amira and have her get a real surgeon over here. Fast, Doc; he's not looking good."

A blade suddenly appeared in her hand and Viridia started to cut the fabric away from Spencer's wound.

"Spence if you fight me on this I'm going to stick it in you to sedate you. I'm a nurse- or I was- so let me do my thing."

Garrett's foot was on the gas, and the tires squealed as they peeled out of the parking lot.

"Right. I know who to call once we get there- I have a friend."

LA isn't a small town, but the European engine tore through the empty streets like a bat out of hell. Garrett made it to the ramshackle brick building and had barely gotten the vehicle parked before he was out of the driver's door and around to Spencer's side. 

"Come on, Spence, just a bit more. Christ, why didn't you tell me you were hit when you called me to pick you up?"

Spencer was too far out of it to hear what Garrett was saying. He just knew he'd been ordered to move his feet, so he did. Rough pavement became smooth concrete; outside noise became still, quiet air. 

With nearly all of Spencer's weight against him, Garrett got through the door and down the small hallway into the main room where there was a stainless steel table set beneath a surgical light suspended from the ceiling. Garrett eased Spencer down as carefully as he could, working hard not to drop his friend who had at least 60 pounds of pure muscle more than Garrett did. Once Spence was down, he looked for a phone and started shucking off his own grey suit jacket.

"Viridia, I'm going to call Jonesy to come help, then I'll call Amira. What do you need from me after that?"

Viridia tuned out Garrett- turned out everything- the car swerved back and forth, but she knelt next to Spencer and kept her balance like an experienced sailor on the rolling deck of a ship. 

Bullet wound. Doesn't look like he got it out- alcohol helped keep him alive, but the wound is still bleeding and open. Infected. Fuck. 

Garrett took a particularly hard curve and Viridia flew toward Spencer, splaying out her arms and catching herself against the car before the momentum could send her crashing into the injured shoulder. 

Spencer ignored Garrett's question- was starting to ignore everything, even when Viridia slapped his face a couple times. 

The old soldier was stubborn, but he'd used just about all the energy he had left in the tank to make it into the car. Now it was their turn.

Viridia helped Garrett as best she could when they'd arrived at the clinic. It took a lot of effort to get the bigger man up on the table, but they managed it. The whiteness of the room helped her focus, brought her back to her days learning about nursing. Not that she'd ever done anything remotely like this, but still...

She needed a better angle to look at the wound. Jumping on the table, Viridia straddled Spencer's stomach and looked down at his shoulder, grabbing the lamp hanging above her and twisting it to look into the bloody mess of a shoulder.

"Fuck. The bullet's still in there. Garrett, strap him down. He seems like he's out cold, but this is going to hurt so much it'll wake him up. I'll be more worried if it doesn't. I'll try to get the bullet and stop the bleeding as best I can until your friend gets here- tell him to bring some extra blood for a transfusion. Maybe call Amira or someone to check his blood type- it'll be on his army record."

Viridia dove into the wound, cutting away the dead skin and searching for the bullet with desperate metallic fingers. She had no idea how much time had passed, but when she felt the doctor tug at her shoulder she almost shrugged him off. But no, Spencer was more important than her pride. Instead, she started setting up the blood transfusion. When she was done, she stayed close, ready to help the doctor, and glanced at Garrett. 

"Did you get in touch with Amira?

Doing as he was asked, Garrett positioned himself at the head of the steel table and used his weight in an awkward, diagonal across Spencer's uninjured upper body. He spoke as jovially as he could, even knowing his friend wouldn't register.

"Don't you go breaking my bones, Spencer MacGregor. You already owe me for bleeding on my leather interior."

He nodded to Viridia that he was ready, and held hard as she started and Spencer bucked against what must have been an agonizing shock of pain.

------

"Did you get in touch with Amira?"

Viridia's voice knocked Garrett out of his thoughts. He was thinking about how he should probably go check on Gracie.

"I did, but she hung up before I even finished. I'd expect her to fly through that door any minute."

Dr. Mitchell watched rather helplessly with a stone-faced expression while Jonesy did what he did. He'd known Jonesy longer, but he knew Spencer better. He'd seen Viridia's face when they'd gotten him on the table, and he had enough clinical knowledge to understand that there was danger beyond just a bullet in the shoulder. Garrett didn't like feeling like the wrong kind of doctor in this moment.

Sure enough, less than five minutes passed when the door just beyond the little hallway slammed against the limits of its hinges. The sound of Amira's boots came at a near gallop down the hallway and skittered to a stop at the door. Her expression was much like the one she wore when she was ready to perforate someone- but when those dark eyes fell on Spencer laid on the surgical table, her face changed entirely. It was a face no one in the room had been around to see the last time she wore it; only this time no one was dragging her away. 

Amira walked straight to the table, to the opposite side where the doctor was finishing up his closing and cleaning, and bent down so that she was closer to him. His head was facing away from her. It took everything within her not to choke up and sob seeing him this way. The hard-as-steel-nails Amira had melted away at the door- perhaps even on the phone back at the Firm. This one was almost shaking as she reached up and touched his face. This Amira suddenly felt a hundred things the other Amira hadn't allowed herself to even ponder. 

"Spence-" she whispered, letting her fingers play carefully through his hair, watching for movement. 

------

It was the same voice that had pulled him out of a restless nap at the lake house the morning she woke up. She said his the same way- almost. Quietly, gently- only this time she sounded...afraid? Why was she afraid? Spencer opened his eyes to find the threat, only to more quickly feel the throbbing in his shoulder and saw the corner of a white lab coat right in front of him. He was cold, and under him it felt like he was laying on the floor. Then he felt a hand on his face. Now he thought he had to be dreaming, because he knew the touch of that hand without having to look. But he did. Turning his head made his shoulder throb even harder, but it didn't seem to hurt, really. He met Amira's eyes and fucking nothing mattered at all. 

Amira let out a sigh that had been trapped in her lungs, and it escaped with a tiny sob as she bowed her head a little. Her other hand found his uninjured hand and brought it up between them.

"Goddam it, Spencer. What the hell were you doing in Detroit? I thought you were going shooting with a friend?"

Spencer tried to laugh.

"I did- there were just some people shooting back."

Part of her wanted to yell at him, but not a big enough part. A much bigger part just wanted to put her head on the table and cry. Her heart was pounding, and she was squeezing his hand probably harder than she realized. 

Spencer could smell her hair. He was aware of her hand holding his. That was all he cared about. World War III could have been blowing out all around him and it wouldn't have phased him at all. He also wasn't aware that he'd been given a fair amount of ketamine. He took their joined hands and placed them under Amira's chin, lifting it so she looked at him, and just started talking.

"I smoked a joint a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't all that bad, really. Kinda crazy, but not bad. Anyway the guy that gave it to me is the one that got me to go out to Detroit to do this job. He was crazy, too, but if there's one thing I learned from him it was that life is too short to take too seriously and to let good things pass you by. So I made up my mind, even before we went into the prison, that I was going to tell you this. Tyki may have to fire me, but I don't care. I love you, Amira. I think I have since the first time Corrado introduced you to me after I got hired. But I know for damn sure I love you now, and I'm not going another day without you knowing it."

Now he was squeezing her hand back. Amira's eyes were enormous, and spilling over with tears- but she was smiling. Nothing he said was anything she didn't already feel, but everything she'd told herself she wasn't allowed to feel; she was too damaged to have for herself. But here it was, right in front of her, laid out on the table. 

"Then why did you go off and get yourself shot, you big idiot?"

Amira laughed a little, but it was more of a cry, and laid her head on his chest. Spencer reached up with his good arm and just held her. 

-----

Garrett stood with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, a half smile on his lips. He slowly looked over at Viridia.

"Well that's not how I pictured that happening, but it's about time."

He checked his watch and glanced out the door.

"Listen, I have a feeling Gracie hasn't been fed in a bit. Would you want to take a ride to Spencer's place and meet the old girl?"

Viridia heard the sound of Amira's approach, and was already moving when her boss tore through the room like a whirlwind. Instinctively, Viridia moved to Amira's shoulder like a dog waiting for orders. Viridia's stoicness grew in proportion with Amira's emotion, and she stood ready and waiting for any sort of instruction.

There was a long wait- feeling like she was only breathing half breaths for an interminable time- until Spencer woke. When he spoke to Amira, Viridia grinned and felt the tension within her release. 

She tried not to stare, but she couldn't ignore how tightly the two grasped hands. I knew those two were screwing each other... Candice owes me a bottle of wine.

As Spencer professed his love, Viridia pulled back, moving across the room to Garrett and winking at the doc.

"What the hell is a Gracie? But yea, we should probably leave those two alone. Unless you need anything, Amira?"

"Unless you need anything, Amira?"

It was only just at that moment that Amira seemed to remember the rest of the world around her. She looked up at Viridia and smiled, shaking her head. 

"No, it's fine. I'm going to stay here with him tonight, and get him back to his apartment in the morning. Thank you- both of you- for everything."

She turned back to Spencer as Garrett's friend began giving instructions for the next few hours. 

----

Spencer's apartment was only a few blocks away, and Garrett drove much more safely this time. They didn't talk much on the short drive, but when he got to the curb, he hopped out and walked around to the passenger door to open it for Viridia with a tired but still somehow dashing smile. 

"Here we are, Miss. Fortunately, Spencer happened to have gotten himself a ground-floor apartment, so there are no stairs to haul ourselves up at this hour. Plus, this block of apartments is in a fairly nice neighborhood."

He used his thumb to flip through his keys until he found the one he was looking for, then led Viridia through the glass front door of the building. There was a non-descript carpeted hallway with rows of mailboxes on either side, and then two doors to the left and right. The last door on the left was the one at which Garrett stopped. The key opened the door, and Garrett flicked on a light just inside the door.

A flash of white fur bolted across the floor and leapt up toward Garrett like a self-propelled canon ball. He almost stumbled back to catch the massive ball of fur, but did so and laughed a bit.

"This is a Gracie. Viridia, meet Spencer's lady of the house. This was his Mother's cat. When she passed a few years ago, he couldn't stand to get rid of her, so Gracie came to live with him."

From Garrett's arms, the medium haired, white Maine Coon stretched her neck out to sniff curiously in Viridia's direction. Garrett put her down to let her investigate. He watched the cat for a moment, and without looking up to her, spoke candidly.

"You were fantastic back there, Viridia. Really on your game. I'm not the right kind of Doctor exactly to make a judgement call, but I was still impressed."

Viridia closed her eyes on the ride to Spencer's. The strange malaise she'd felt earlier was gone; the adrenaline had chased it away. Maybe that was the key. Stay busy- keep chasing the rush. Although it'd be more preferable to do that without her friends and mentors catching bullets, of course. 

Hands in her pockets, she followed Garrett up into Spencer's place.

Spencer has a nice home- nicer than I'd thought for someone with a military background. 

She grinned when she saw the cat, stepping close to Garrett and lowering her eyes to mirror the feline. Soon, the cat was twisting through Viridia's legs, nuzzling against her ankles. Viri's green eyes and smile flashed at Garrett.

"Cats always like me. Must be the witch thing. Dogs? Not so much. And thanks for the compliment; it was nice to be needed, though I don't think prescribing bullets to my friends and mentors is the ideal treatment."

Viridia grinned again, then moved toward the fridge. 

"I'm hungry. So's Gracie here. I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind. And, uh, you're a lot closer to Spencer than I am. I mean, he's taught me a lot and everything. Just saying, you're closer. Maybe you could root around and find me something I can change into? I'd rather wear something too big than explaining this..."

She held up her arms; her hands had been thoroughly washed, but the sleeves of her blouse had a decent amount of blood on them. 

"Oh, good lord, yes. You'll definitely want to change. Sorry, I hadn't even thought of that. I'll find you something. Spencer won't care a bit. Back in a tic."

He disappeared into the small bedroom of the apartment. A few moments later his muffled voice came through.

"The cat food is in the cupboard beside the refrigerator. Could you go ahead and feed Ms. Grace?"

A few minutes later her returned, leaving the bedroom door open.

"I left a few shirts on the bed. I'm sure they will all swallow you whole, but they are old PT shirts that he hasn't worn in a while and I'm fairly sure it's because they are too small for him. As far as food, I'm afraid Spencer is not much of a cook and generally lets someone else do the cooking or eats at the Seraphinium or the Firm."

Garrett slid one of his hands into the pocket of his slacks and and raised an eyebrow and the corresponding corner of his mouth in a smile.

"But, there's an all-night diner just down the block with decent coffee and french fries I've become rather fond of."

Viridia was happy to feed the cat, knowing that she'd just cemented an alliance with a furry friend. Afterwards, she vanished into Spencer's bedroom. It took a few minutes, but she eventually managed to employ a couple safety pins to create a shirt that fit her, although she didn't mind leaving one shoulder mostly bare for when she sashayed back into the room.

"Coffee and french fries sounds great to me. Let's go. I'm feeling adventurous."

She winked as she headed out toward the car, tilting her head as she looked in through the rear window.

"Probably going to need some special work done to get the stains out. Something tells me Amira knows a guy."

Seated at a table across from Viridia at Ray's Diner, Garrett hadn't thought much of the leather seats anymore since the glance of bare shoulder. There was something of a permanent smirk on his face, though; and it had only grown when their coffees arrived and Viridia produced a flask from her bag. He certainly couldn't blame her for wanting a drink after the night they'd had. It only took him by surprise, a little, that she'd had the flask in the first place. He watched as she poured a healthy amount into her cup.

"So what do you think will happen with Amira and Spencer now? Do you think things will change?"

Garrett shrugged nonchalantly and inched his own coffee cup toward Viridia, giving her a shameless grin.

"Hard to say. I can't see much of anything keeping Spencer from protecting Amira. Though it would have made it terribly awkward if she'd reacted some other way."

He chuckled a bit at that thought.

"I think we both knew that wasn't going to happen, though. Those two were practically built for each other. But, no, I mostly expect things to be business as usual. Amira and Spencer both like to keep their private lives private. You and I might know more than most, but for the most part, I doubt they would allow the general public to see anything change."

He stretched his legs out under the table and crossed them at the ankles as he heard the sizzle and pop of fries being dropped into a deep fryer. 

Viridia smirked as she stretched her legs out, resting them against one of Garrett's shins. It looked like she was going to say something when a waitress dropped a plate of fries in front of her and she pulled her legs back. 

"I think they're great for each other, for sure. But that sort of relationship... what steps do you think need to exist, to keep things from getting too messy between two people who work together? In your professional opinion, of course."