Okay, so sorry for the little hiatus! I thought, 'I'll just take like a week to organize myself,' and forgot that I left you guys on a cliff hanger! Okay maybe it was more of a tree hanger, but still. Anyways, I be back with another updateeeee. I had to completely rewrite this chapter because I hated it, but now I think it's alright.
-Chapter 12-
Pepper's POV
The Stark's theater room wasn't enormous, with three rows of four seats. It was still pretty impressive that they even had a theater room, though. It wasn't all that common, even for the wealthier parts of town. She found herself wishing that she could recline in the plush leather seat forever, forgetting everything.
The Dr. Pepper bottle had condensation dripping down it, chilling her hand. Darcy and Tony had pressured her into drinking the soda when they were younger - she had been assured it was a traitorous sin not to drink her namesake. Nevermind explaining to either of them that the drink had come long before her time, nor that she had any relation to it whatsoever. Still, it had become her drink of choice.
The carbonation failed to distract her from her troubles as a few tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She stared straight ahead, pretending the uneven and slow teardrops didn't provoke her OCD, making her want to brush them away. Truth be told, she wasn't over Harry. He had been the perfect date, and she had hoped he'd thought the same of her. Clearly, that had not been the case. Tony had been right since the beginning - Harry Osborne was a jerk who played with people's emotions to fulfill his stupid "conquest."
Of course she had known about the conquest from the start. She wasn't blind. The illogical part of her brain, the romantic part, had let her imagine a scenario where he'd fall in love with her and change his ways. For her.
Another part of her just didn't think he'd be idiotic enough to try something like that with her. It was like throwing a dodgeball at Nat; the ricochet was deadly.
A half-smile graced her face as she thought about the ricochet she'd dealt him. The whimpering noise he'd emitted as he sank to the ground had given her more pleasure than she'd thought it would, and she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty about it. Bastard deserved it, and one from every girl he'd ever deceived.
It had cheered her up for a little bit, but she was still upset over the whole ordeal. In front of her friends, she wore a smile. After all, it seemed silly to cry over a douche you'd only gone on one date with.
"Bruce said you'd gone in here." The welcoming distraction came from behind her.
She quickly wiped her sleeve over her cheeks, clearing the tear tracks in one swipe. "Hi, Tony."
"Hey, Pep." He sat in the seat next to her, and she un-reclined so they could talk. There was no point in trying to avoid it - he would make her. "What's wrong?"
She gave a half-hearted chuckle and shook her head, warning, "It's dumb."
He turned her head so she was looking at him. The lines in his forehead creased with worry as he assured her, "It made you cry. It's not dumb." He put a hand on her shoulder.
They were throwing a party on the other side of that door, and sitting in here talking about her personal issues wasn't very good hostmanship, she was sure. However she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't let this go, and she really needed someone to talk to right about now. "Am I not good enough, or something?"
The hand on her shoulder fell, and the worry lines disappeared. "Actually, that is dumb. It might be the dumbest thing you've ever said, if I didn't know about the whole c*ckporn-popcorn mixup of the first grade."
She ignored the jab - she was six for god's sake - and argued "Tony-"
"No," he shushed her. "Pepper, you're not 'good enough.' You're freaking perfect and anyone here would tell you the same. Well, Hela would disagree but that's really a compliment, and Loki would give you a 'meh,' but other than that everyone adores you."
She gave him a genuine smile. "Thanks, Tony."
"Who made you think that? Was it Osborne? I swear, I will punch him into-"
"No need!" She derailed his vengeance quickly. "Besides, you already did that." They both smiled at the memory. "It wasn't him, it's just… Guys never ask me out, you know? The first time in a year someone's asked me, and it's just so I can be some number in a scorebook."
"Maybe they're intimidated by you."
She gave an unlady-like snort. "Doubt it."
"No, really. You're terrifying."
They were really close now, neither one realizing they were subconsciously moving forward. The subliminal messages were now becoming conscious, and it was with a very conscious thought that Tony closed the gap.
Then, they were kissing. He was obviously a good kisser; he'd had lots of practice. She'd never in a million years thought she'd get to experience it. It was slow, and tender, but the passion behind it was overwhelming. She melted into it, feeling like some lovestruck fictional character that Darcy was always going on about.
They parted, and he brushed some of her hair out of her face. He gave her a smile, saying, "Feel better?"
She nodded, when a sinking thought hit her. He was one of her best friends, but he was still a player. Maybe not in the same way as Harry was, but he was still undeniably a player. Her smile dropped, and she said, "Tony, you-"
"What?"
She stammered out, not wanting to hurt his feelings, "I know your -er tendencies with girls, and I-" There was no way to politely say 'You're a player and bound to break my heart.' She sighed, looking him in the eye and instead asking the question, "Did that mean anything to you?"
"Did it to you?"
"I asked you first."
He knew what she was asking, what she had been trying to put into words. "Yes, it meant something. I'm not going to hurt you, Pepper. That's a promise."
Did she trust him? Yes. Who knew, though, right? This could backfire in a few months from now, or even tomorrow. All she knew, was that he was here right now and making promises she would trust him to keep.
Their lips reconnected, and she smiled into the kiss. It was one of the first real smiles since the scene in the hallway, and her consequential suspension. It was one of pure bliss. "It meant something to me, too." She murmured this against his lips, and his smile into their kiss signalled that he'd heard her.
Wanda's POV
The fuzziness in her head made it hard to think straight. She looking at her friend pleadingly, hoping he would help her. Help her with what? What should she do? She racked her brain for what a sober person would do in this situation. Wait, a sober person wouldn't be in this situation… Home. She wanted to go home. He could help take her home.
"Someone spiked my drink," she repeated as she gripped the banister tightly.
Finally seeming to understand, he muttered, "Shit, Wanda." He reached out to grab the empty dixie cup from her, looking inside as if there was some piece of evidence as to who did this. Unfortunately, this wasn't Sherlock. "Who did this?"
"I don't know," she whimpered. If she could think back far enough… Her brain didn't want to rewind that far, though. She could figure it out later, when she could actually function. "Help."
He chucked the useless cup a little down the hall behind him, nearly hitting someone in the head as he looked at her. He put her arm over his shoulders, wrapping his own around her waist. "I got you."
They made it to the bottom of the staircase and she heaved a sigh of relief at not yet having made falling down the stairs drunk into a family tradition.
She could tell by his halt at the front door that he wasn't entirely sure what to do. None of the sophomores could drive yet, and the Juniors they weren't too familiar with… Calling an adult would surely bring the cops; they were bustable now that there was booze in the building.
He turned, and she grabbed onto his shoulder as the room spun. "Nat!" he said loudly.
She could see Nat walking over, with Clint behind her. Natasha was eyeing her warily, unsure about her slight sway. Was she swaying? It was hard to tell. Or maybe Nat is the one swaying… She giggled softly to herself, as Clint asked, "Is she- is she drunk?"
Natasha grabbed her head and held her face still, staring into her eyes. Is she about to kiss me? Her hand dropped a moment later as she replied, "Yup, drunk."
"She says someone spiked her drink." Bucky explained.
"Well, that's the only obvious answer. Why would she purposely drink if she hated her father doing it?" Clint answered.
"Hey," she snapped her fingers. "I'm still here." They shouldn't talk about her problems like that - it's not nice! She found her offence wavering as she swayed a little too far to the left and Bucky's strong hand on her arm was the only thing keeping her stable.
"What do we do?" Nat asked.
"I wan' home," she slurred. She didn't really. She just didn't want to be drunk at a party with all of these people.
"We'll take you home," Bucky promised.
Nat nodded. "I'll help get her to her house, and Clint can stay here. You should warn the others that there's someone spiking punch. It seems to be specific; not just the whole bowl. I just drank a bunch and I feel fine."
"'S like Sherlock," she mumbled as Natasha made her 'deductions.'
"Will do," Clint snickered. "Sherlock."
"Fuck off, Watson," Nat rolled her eyes. "Let's get going if we want to have her home by midnight."
She had one hand on each arm as they walked in the direction of her house. Like having bodyguards, she thought with a smile.
She continued to stumble over her own feet, because the concrete beneath her was inexplicably doing the worm. Looking at her feet involved a lot of tripping, while looking straight ahead involved high steps that likely looked ridiculous. How could Papa like this? It was mostly a lot of embarrassment that she was sure would haunt her for a long time coming.
Thinking about Papa made her head spin a different direction. The jagged cracks in the concrete made her feel a little sick as she walked over them. How would he react to her underage drinking? Logically, she shouldn't be punished because she was the victim in this scenario. He didn't seem to do much logical thinking these days, however.
They were at a house, and Bucky rapped softly on the door. Oh, she thought slowly. It's my house. Thank god she had her reserved filter still, keeping her thoughts safely locked away from escaping out her mouth.
The door opened, and she yelled, "Pietro!"
He looked at her weirdly. "Sush, Papa's asleep. I thought you were all at a party? Why are you back so early? Weren't you sleeping over at-"
Man, he asked a lot of questions!
Natasha cut him off, with "Someone spiked her drink. She's drunk."
His eyes widened, and understanding dawned on him. "Okay," he looked back at the couch, where Papa had likely crashed for the night. "Thanks for bringing her home."
"No problem," Bucky said. "You can take her from here?"
"Yeah," Pietro gently guided her inside.
She could have sworn Bucky seemed a little reluctant to let her go, but it was probably just her crazy, fogged up brain playing tricks on her. Just like how the walls and the floor decided to switch.
"M' hungry." She whined quietly as he guided her in the direction of her room. One coherent thought that managed to stick was don't wake Papa.
He nodded, "I bet you drank on an empty stomach, didn't you?"
"I didn't really plan this!" She smacked him on the arm. Reaching for a door, she opened it slowly. "Is this my room?"
He laughed, as she exposed the little linen closet..
"No, Wanda." He directed her to the door at the end of the hall. "That one's yours." He was laughing softly now, which she found highly rude. "I'm going to kill whoever did this to you, but it's a little funny."
She walked over to her bed, and flopped down dramatically. "I'm not tired. I'm hungry."
He threw a blanket over her shoulders as she sat against the wall, facing him. "I'll get you something. Just stay here so you don't fall on your face."
She nodded, thinking that was a good idea.
Pietro's POV
If he had videotaped Wanda opening up the linen closet, he was sure they could've become internet famous. Even better, was that had he not stopped her she probably would have curled up and fallen asleep in there. Every brother's dream was for their sibling to wake up amongst a bunch of towels with no idea how they got there. If he set up a camera for when she would've woke up… No, she didn't deserve that tonight. He'd save it for when she got wasted by her own free will. Plus, she would probably be feeling pretty sick tomorrow and he wanted her as close to the bathroom as possible.
As he grabbed the box of frosted animal crackers, he reviewed his own sibling code.
Had she done this of her own accord in an act of teenage rebellion, well, he wouldn't let this go for days. Hell, this would be a story for the grandchildren. 'Hey kids, listen to the time crazy Nana Wanda tried to sleep in a linen closet…' Drawing a moustache on her would be fun, and the photo opportunities once she fell asleep would be endless.
However, she hadn't done this on purpose. It hadn't been her fault in any way, or a lesson-learned type of deal. She was innocent. A victim. This spurred his brotherly protectiveness into overdrive, as he seethed at whoever had done this. What if it had been some older creep looking for an easy target to hit? The situation could have been much worse had she not found her friends as soon as she realized what had happened.
So he carried the box back to her room, stopping in his and Papa's shared bathroom to search the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. It wasn't hard - that was pretty much all that was in there. He also filled a glass of water, since he was feeling generous.
He knocked on her door lightly to alert her of his presence, but there was no answer.
He pushed it open and saw she had fallen asleep, where she sat against the wall. He set the crackers down, with the fleeting thought of how he was the only sober one in the house.
He placed the aspirin and bottled water on the nightstand, and gently moved her to where she was laying down under the covers. "Goodnight, sis."
To his surprise, she stirred a little. He hadn't meant to wake her up.
She blinked her eyes open just a peep, mumbling, "Don't tell Papa."
Don't tell Papa? What did that mean? He decided to store that thought for later, because there was no use asking her now, as she was already asleep. "I won't," he promised even though she couldn't hear. She probably had her reasons.
He would be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the tensions between her and Papa in the house. She avoided him like the plague most of the time, and when she was with him she was too quiet.
She was probably angry with him for how he was handling things. They'd all lost Mama, but two out of three were not drowning themselves in booze. Sometimes he felt a twinge annoyed with Papa too, but he tried to be sympathetic.
Wanda's POV
Waking up the next morning was one of the most unpleasant things she had ever done.
Ugh.
The first coherent thought to pierce through her head was that she was undeniably and uncontrollably about to vomit. She raced to her bathroom and leant over the bowl. Thankfully, there wasn't much that could come up since she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.
Going back to her bedroom, she looked at her nightstand. On top of it lay her charging phone, and resting next to it was an aspirin and a glass of water. Pietro was so thoughtful. At least, she assumed it was him. She downed the pill and sipped some water slowly. The time was 11:02, meaning she had slept in much later than her usual wake-up time. It was a Sunday, however, so she didn't much care. The next thing was her notifications, overflowing with text messages.
Jane: Heard you got spiked! U ok?
Tony: How was your teenage rebellion? Underage drinking is a little outdated, but oh well. (Seriously, sorry abt that)
Bruce: U ok?
Pepper: What happened? Who did it?
She texted some of them back, and mostly they were responses like "Glad you're okay!" or "Feel better!" Some of them were a little more deadly (especially Darcy's and Nat's) and said things like "I will murder whoever did this."
The who in the whole debacle was certainly a good question. Though she couldn't remember much from last night after being at the top of the stairs, the spiking obviously took place prior to that.
Who had she seen while holding her drink, that didn't like her? Obviously none of her friends had done it. Loki popped into her mind, but he hadn't even gone near her when she had her punch. Not to mention, she couldn't think of a motive for him doing it. If he wanted to spike some punch, Darcy and her sudden wave of unwavering faith in him would've been easier.
A sinking suspicion hit, and she remembered the one person who she had run into the party that had most certainly not been welcome. Hela.
The thought had made her sick. Sure, she'd been a total bitch ever since Wanda had met her, but she didn't think she would be so dangerous.
A text from another friend of hers chimed, making her headache spin and causing her to lose her train of thought. Bucky: So, how's the hangover?
After finally being smart enough to turn her screen's brightness way down, she typed back, It sucks.
The dots appeared, before Sry :/ U remember who did it so I can kill them?
She smiled at how protective her friends were being over her. It was a nice feeling, to be safe. To have the same comfort in her own home would be wishful thinking.
Before she could forget, she told him, I'm 99% sure it was Hela.
Well, unfortunately I'm not going to beat up a girl. I'll just sick Darcy on her ass, he replied back quickly.
The rational part of her brain made her want to tell him not to, but her pounding headache led her to not care. They could kill Hela if they wanted. In fact, good riddance. The girl had really been a pain ever since Wanda had gotten to Marvel High. She didn't have a reason for it, either!
Thinking about her hatred for the girl made her headache worsen, so she tried to distract herself. Pietro's Sunday morning television binge sounded like the perfect way to do that.
She walked into the living room with a soft blanket wrapped around herself, and sat next to him on the couch.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Ugh," she groaned. "Awful."
He smiled lightly at her. "Thought so. Do you remember who did it?"
"I think it was Hela." She told him. "I'd rather not think about it right now."
"Fair enough," he said. Although the look in his eye as he watched her closely made her think he wanted to ask her something else. Thankfully, he refrained.
She grabbed the remote and pulled up Netflix, causing him to stare at her. "What?" she asked innocently, knowing perfectly well why he was freaking out.
"I thought Papa said to delete that."
She gave him a serious look. "I don't have to listen to everything Papa says." He looked highly confused, as she had been going out of her way lately to please him. This act of rebellion was uncharacteristic of her.
His mouth gaped open like a fish, and she couldn't help laughing. Giving up the act, she explained, "Relax, Pietro. Tony gave me his Netflix password."
He smiled, shaking his head at her. "That makes more sense."
They watched some of The Fosters, and she couldn't help but cringe when the adoptive siblings were forging a romantic relationship. Sure, they were adopted, but it was still questionably incestuous. She looked to her own brother next to her, and her disgusting thoughts were confirmed. Kissing her twin? Ew!*
He broke the silence that had covered them when they started watching, by saying bluntly, "I think I'm going to dye my hair."
She blinked. "What?"
"I want to die my hair."
This was news to her. When had he come up with this? "What color?"
"I want to dye it silver, but leave the roots brown."
That sounds… Pretty cool, actually. She nodded approvingly. "That's nice. When?"
He raised a brow at her. "You approve?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're getting a tattoo, or anything like that. It's up to you."
He smiled, "Tomorrow after school."
She nodded, thinking pensively. She'd always wanted to do something different with her own hair. The long brown locks had started to bore her, and she craved a change. Doing her makeup to conceal the bruises multiple times every day left her staring in the mirror for much longer than she ever had in the past. Her reflection was growing dull in her eyes. "Could I come? I want to get something different as well."
"Sure," he answered.
Waking up Monday morning was a relief. Her hangover had disappeared yesterday afternoon, but she had fallen asleep paranoid that she would wake up groggy again.
It was definitely safe to say she wouldn't be voluntarily drinking in the near future.
She was welcomed back by all of her friends, and she prayed there would be no run-ins with Hela today. She didn't really have enough evidence to accuse her of spiking her punch, just a gut feeling and a conveniently-timed meeting with her at the party.
She felt back to her normal self, and since she'd spent Saturday at the party and Sunday with Pietro, Papa hadn't had a chance to get to her at all.
She felt refreshed, and was chipper all the way through biology. Her mood was only heightened as Ms. May handed her their poster back, with a big A stamped across the top. She showed Bucky, who smiled but didn't seem all that impressed. This was exciting, damnit!
Was this how Darcy felt all the time? Her friend's quirky character started to make sense now.
The day seemed to pass by quickly, and for some reason she didn't really see much of her friends until lunch. "Has anyone seen Hela yet today?" Darcy was grinding her fist into her hand.
"Um," Tony watched her with an amused expression. "No… I haven't."
"I'm going to kill her." Pepper said determinedly.
Wanda shook her head. "No one is killing anyone. I don't care - we won't sink to her level."
"Nope," Sam said. "We'll sink further, straight into homicide."
She sighed, knowing it was unlikely they would give up. A sight caught her eye that would have surprised her several days ago, but not much could shock her after such a weekend. Loki was standing by their table, looking unsure.
"Um, hi." She was the first to notice him.
The entire table turned, and conversation came to a halt. Everyone watched Loki with eagle eyes, until Bruce scooted over and patted the seat next to him. Casually some of them went back to talking while others, Wanda included, kept gaping at the boy.
Darcy patted him on the back, saying, "We were just talking about murdering Hela."
"Murder, huh?" he asked with a smirk. "Thor has a place to hide the bodies should we succeed."
Thor glared at him, "For the last time, Loki! Your hamster died of old age!"
She confusedly looked back and forth between her friends, realizing that this must have been how it was before the falling out with Loki. Apparently sarcastic asshole was just Loki's default personality, and it seemed much more good-natured now than when she'd met him on her first day. She also learned that Frosty the hamster had been left in Thor's care for a few days when he mysteriously died. The exchange between then suddenly made more sense.
After school, she went with Pietro to get her hair dyed. She'd spent half an hour looking through the catalogs to see what she wanted. Finally, something had caught her eye. One of the models had some subtle, red streaks through her brown hair that stood out just enough. While she new her hair would never be as unrealistically silky and wavy as the model's, she could see her straight hair looking nicer with it.
After the hairdresser had spun her around, she gasped. It was exactly what she had wanted! The beautiful red streaks were more prominent than she had expected, but it worked well.
When she saw Pietro, and his insanely cool silver tips, she smiled.
"That looks nice," he complimented her.
She couldn't resist, "You look like a q-tip." At his grumble, she laughed. "Only kidding! It looks great."
"Good. I almost had to tell you that you look like Lava Girl."
"I only got a few little streaks!" she argued. In no way did she resemble Lava Girl.
When most people think of fear, they think of the dark. Or spiders, or heights. Fear is an unpleasant reaction in the amygdala that tells you when you should take caution. All her life she had experienced little fears, such as before public speaking, or standing in line for the biggest rollercoaster at the park. For the most part, Wanda was confident in herself and her surroundings. Thus, it came such a shock that she would find herself awake in the late hours of night, huddled under the blankets, praying that she would be safe, because of the one person in her life that she should always have been able to trust. Wanda Maximoff was terrified of her own father.
She had seen the look he gave her when she walked through the door, with her different hair and a proud smile. He looked furious, disgusted even. Truthfully, in the deciding of the change, his reaction hadn't even been considered. He'd been so absent from her life recently, only showing up to use her as a punching bag on occasion, that she felt he no longer got a say.
His adverse reaction had apparently been limited to her, as he ruffled Pietro's new colored locks in a show of affection.
Even with her brother sleeping down the hall, she was afraid he would come in to punish her. At some point he would, and she was just beginning to heal from the last one. It was really just a matter of when.
She couldn't hide forever, and they both knew it.
He did. It wasn't that night, or even the next morning as she left early with Pietro. Tuesday afternoon she hung out at Jane's with some of the gang and didn't get back until well after she was sure Pietro would be home.
It was Wednesday morning, when she accidentally overslept her brother's departure time, and couldn't rush out of the house fast enough. She'd hoped he would have forgotten about her new style choice, or better yet he'd already left for work.
She was wrong.
"I don't like it." He said from the kitchen table.
She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to face him. "Like what?" She had to be careful not to remind him of her hair if that's not what he was referring to.
"You look like a prostitute." He must have been talking about her hair, because she was wearing dark wash jeans and her usual red jacket, which had never been a problem before.
"My hair?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes, the hair!" He growled angrily, dropping the plate holding his toast. She winced as it shattered. "Undo it!"
"I can't!" she argued, knowing it was futile. "It will wash out in a few weeks, and then I won't redo it. I promise."
"You should have asked me in the first place." He stomped towards her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging on it hard. "This little teenage rebellion thing you've got going on here… I don't like it, not one bit! Why can't you just be like your brother?!"
He barked these things at her, and she shrunk in on herself. She was being more like Pietro lately. She was barely home, either at soccer or with friends. She was working hard on grades. He had dyed his hair, too!
He punched her swiftly in the gut, and she groaned as she doubled over. Her legs were kicked out from under her, and she fell to the floor.
Picking herself up slowly as he walked away, she tried to remind herself why she was putting up with this.
Pietro.
She couldn't let their only living parent become a villain in her brother's eyes. She had to protect him. He'd protected her so much their whole lives, and it was time to return the favor. If they were separated in foster care… she couldn't live without him. As long as Papa wasn't hurting her twin, she would put up with him pushing her around. She just had to keep her priorities straight, and hope Papa got over this violent phase. In a few years, she could go to college. She could escape.
Hope you guys like it :) What do you think of Wanda's rationale for not telling anyone about her abuse? I tried to keep it realistic, and give her actual reasons for not telling anyone. Also: an important message is that this is only a story! If you are actually suffering from abuse I urge you to talk to someone you trust and get yourself to safety! If any of my readers ever need anyone to talk to I'm only one message away.
*Ew: This is referencing how in the comics, Pietro and Wanda had a little incest-y thing going on.
Responses to reviews:
MaximoffFangirl~ CHARGE!
Mcduffie145~ Thank you! I initially struggled with writing Bucky/Wanda, but I think it's going well so far.
Lainiebot~ I KNOW RIGHT!? And Bucky's hair was pretty fabulous. One thing I can't stop thinking about was the person behind me in the theater who whispered "He looks like Jesus." I can't unsee it now, so yep. Makes it that much better. I like the relationship they teased between Bucky and Shuri (T'Challa's sister) however she is sixteen and Bucky's biological age is about 30 according to the mcu wiki. So that's just slightly illegal…. He could use a little sis to look after though, like how Tony has Peter.
Amora~ I loved Shuri and T'Challa's relationship. It was awesome! Definitely the best sibling relationship since… well… you know. MOVING ON. Thank you! I really wanted the Bucda to go well, and so far it seems like it's well-received. I will have to take a selfie with my Uncle next time I see him now! I'm glad you're stumped on Loki's intentions, because that's what I was going for 100%. Sometimes I'll accidentally write him one way then be like… wait no… And you've gotta be kitten me right meow. I love puns! But that was paw-sitively terrible, go jump off a meowntain. Once my uncle (not the CP one) and my brother were making sucky food puns while we were eating, so I picked up a piece of olive bread and said "All of you are bread to me." I won.
M~ Thank you! Hope you like this chapter.
