Damon burst into the room like a lightning bolt, striking the scene and leaving the occupants stunned into silence, staring vacantly at Damon, appearing in the midst of the storm.

"Hello brother." He said evenly, raising his gun and pointing it straight at Michael's heart without a glance in his brother's direction.

"Damon?" Stefan said, jumping from his seat in alarm.

"Sit." Michael ordered, pushing Stefan's shoulder down with the butt of his gun. Stefan sank back unwillingly, staring at his brother with pained eyes. "So, Damon, how are things?" he asked pleasantly.

"Just brilliant." He replied bitterly, never lowering his weapon. "And you?"

Michael made a vague gesture with the deadly gun in his hands. "Enough with the semantics." He raised his gun, pointing it straight at Damon's chest. "Why are you here?"

Damon scoffed derisively. "Why am I in my father's home?" He glared at his little brother. "More like why are you here?"

"You're brother's just having a little party. Wouldn't want to bust that up would you?" Michael asked condescendingly. "He assured us there would be no one in tonight." He turned the weapon on Stefan, aiming at his heart.

Stefan stood up immediately, pulling his own gun from his jacket and pointing it steadily at Michael's head. "Don't forget who you are, Michael."

Michael scowled, hesitating for a second before he turned it back to Damon. "Guess your little brother toughened up." He shrugged, sighting his target. "Don't worry. We won't kill you. We had our orders." Michael moved closer, smirking evilly. "We get to kill Grayson and we get to wound Giuseppe." He paused, closing his eyes and moaning in mock-satisfaction as if he was daydreaming. "And we get to do whatever we want to that pretty girl I met the other day. Elena, wasn't it?"

Faster than a heartbeat, a gunshot rang out through the room. Michael turned back to Damon, his eyes full of rage. "You touch her, and I kill you myself." He threatened in a low voice, pointing his gun intimidatingly at Michael. "You're lucky it's only Finn that's dead." He motioned to the dead man lying in his kitchen. "If Kol was here he'd be joining your dear brother on the floor."

Michael snarled, loading his gun and sighting Damon, his hands shaking violently. "Why don't you just kill me then?" he yelled in a ragged voice. "Just shoot me. Why drag it out?"

Damon smirked, pressing the cold metal to Michael's temple, pushing him to his knees. "Drop the gun. You give me the answers I want and I'll consider it." He shot his brother a hard look. "Nice friends you're keeping Stefan." He told him in a clipped voice. "How did they buy you off? New house? Nice cars? New family for after Dad and I kill you with our own guns, and if that fails, for after we hunt you down?" Damon stepped closer, keeping his gun trained on Michael, looking his brother up and down in disgust.

"Interesting." Stefan noted quietly, folding his arms across his chest and staring at Damon like he was an interesting new specimen in a scientist's laboratory. "You'd kill for Elena, huh? I don't blame you, she's really something." He looked around, widely exaggerating his movements. "Hey, where is she? I'm guessing she'd around here somewhere, since you're rarely seen without her."

Damon smirked and took a step back, pressing the metal weapon further into Michael's skin. "She'll be far away by now." He answered confidently, hoping it to be the case. Elena was smart, she would be hidden somewhere secluded but he prayed she was close enough to here him tell her, in the most simple way possible, to run.

"By now?" Stefan asked, raising his eyebrows. "So she was around here before?"

Damon stayed silently, flicking the safety off of his gun. "I came alone."

"I call bullshit." Stefan smirked, tilting his head to. "Remember we played that when we were kids? Good times…" he trailed off, rubbing his hands together. "Well I'm off to find Elena, you get your answers out of Michael here however you like."

"Stefan." Michael snarled with fury. "You forget that if he kills me, you lose everything."

Stefan sighed and sat down heavily in one of the wooden chairs in the kitchen. "Fine. You get your answers," Stefan pulled his gun back out and flicked off the safety. "But you go too far, or you shoot him," Stefan turned so the gun was pointing at Damon. "Then I shoot you."

Damon's heart pounded in his chest. "Gun. Now." He ordered Michael vehemently. Michael scowled, gesturing to where the gun lay on the floor. Damon picked it up and, shocking even himself, pulled it determinedly on his brother. "Now we talk."

Stefan inhaled deeply, a deep line forming in his forehead. "Sadly, my brother is one of our biggest threats."

"Why them, Stefan?" Damon asked painfully.

"Have you heard of the things Dad had done?" Stefan asked incredulously, keeping his gun trained on his brother.

"Yes, and joining his biggest rival is going to make that all better." Damon said sarcastically. "Why are you after Elena?"

"Oh here we go again." Stefan moaned, leaning back in his chair.

"Okay smart arse, I'll start at the beginning. Why did you kill Miranda?" Michael glanced at Stefan, slightly, either way; he was most likely going to die. He told too much then Stefan, or whoever was controlling Stefan killed him, he didn't tell anything Damon shot him on the spot. "Come on Michael, I know you're only out for yourself." Damon smirked. "Why are you after her?"

"Slater-"

"Is dead." Damon said shortly.

"Grayson killed Slater's kid when he killed Rose! Every Vengeful is out for Grayson's blood." Michael said through gritted teeth. "When Grayson killed Slater we started looking. Every one of our efforts was concentrated on finding Miranda."

"How do you even know that name?" Damon shouted.

"It was a whisper." Michael admitted. "An old Vagrant you missed. We forced it out of him, and then, we killed him." He added with added vengeance in his voice.

"Well how about I tell you something you probably don't know?" Damon said cuttingly. "Trevor is high up in the ranking, am I wrong?" Michael didn't say anything. He lifted his chin stared at Damon with cold grey eyes. "Am I wrong?" he snarled viciously.

"No." Michael spat out. "Are you proud of yourself?"

"Not particularly. Your men got lazy, heard them talking at the Warehouse." He explained shortly, shrugging like he was bored. He moved forward, ending up nose to nose with his enemy. "Trevor doesn't want Grayson dead because he killed his best friend. Trevor wants Grayson dead because he killed his child."

Michael's eyes went wide in shock. "Okay, stop." Stefan was growing bored with his brother's endless questions. He had unraveled his mystery surrounding his girl and was two questions away from discovering what was really going on beneath the radar. He pulled his gun back out, pointing it as it brother's head.

Damon pointed the second gun at Stefan's heart. "Who controls you?" he demanded Michael.

"Trevor." He said blankly, staring emotionlessly at the whitewash wall.

"And who controls Trevor?"

"Stop!" bellowed Stefan, moving closer and pressing his gun to the underside of Damon's jaw. "You got your answer." Damon lifted his chin defiantly, staring unblinkingly into his brother's cold, green eyes.

"No brother, I didn't." Damon snarled, pushing Stefan's gun away and pointing his own to his forehead. "Who controls Trevor?" he demanded, punctuating each word with a loaded pause.

Stefan's jaw clenched and his eyes slid from Damon to Michael and back again. His green eyes flickered vaguely for a moment before catching on something behind Damon. He lifted his gun, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He held it out at arm level, pointing it a Damon's shoulder. His wrist flicked, moving his target up by centimeters, his line of sight wavering.

And then he shot.

Elena felt like her body was being ripped apart as she dropped heavily to the floor, her breath coming in short, ragged breaths. With unclear eyes she registered Stefan seizing Michael around the collar and shoving him forward, sending him stumbling out of a set of French doors. Stefan paused, glancing back at her with a look that might have been regret. His eyes turned cold as he caught sight of Finn's cold body, lying lifeless on the floor. He hauled the body over his shoulder, cleaning up the mess he'd made in his own home. Then he disappeared out of sight.

Dull sounds seemed to be resounding in the air around her, oddly muffled in contrast to the crippling pain in her torso. Damon dropped to his knees in front of her, talking rapidly into a mobile as he struggled to keep her focused on him.

Even through the haze setting in around her eyes, his piercing blue eyes stood out amongst the fog, sparkling sapphires amid the blanket of grey. She felt a darkness tugging at the edges of her consciousness, tempting her with the comfort of nothingness. He cupped her face with both his hands, his anguish-stricken eyes staring at her, desperately trying to coax a response out of her. He held her tightly to his chest and the last thing she remembered was the white-wash wall dappled blue and red, and the soothing melody of his voice as it lulled her into darkness.

Damon heard the shot ring out, vibrating through the room, a harsh sound penetrating the silent night, followed swiftly by another, both gliding smoothly over his shoulder. He flinched whirling around when no pain hit him, fast enough to see Elena's form slide to the ground. He whipped out his phone, frantically dialing an ambulance. "Get out of here Stefan!" He roared. "This is your one chance, if you're here when the cops arrive I will send you down!"

Stefan glared at him stonily, a faint shadow of regret seeping into his features. He heaved Michael to his feet, shoving him out of the set of door onto the patio and stumbling into a low wall. Stefan hoisted Finn's cold body into the air, and sending one last look at his brother, he disappeared out of the door, yelling at Michael to run.

"My friend," Damon gasped out as the line connected. "She's been shot." He told them, desperately trying to keep Elena focused. "Come on, Elena." He groaned, pressing one hand to her cheek as he rattled off the address to the operator on the other end. He threw his phone to one side, cupping her face with both hands. "You're too good to die like this." He swallowed roughly, pressing his forehead to hers, murmuring soothing words to her. "You'll be okay. Yeah? You just gotta answer me." Damon stared pleadingly into her pale face and unseeing eyes. "Elena!" he yelled, becoming increasingly exasperated as sheer panic overtook his body. "You gotta be okay. You can't leave me in this mess. Grayson will kill me." He smiled weakly, forcing it past the lump in his throat. His breath was becoming more and more ragged as a dull ache began to form in his chest. "Elena." He murmured, stroking her hair back from her face.

The sirens wailed as they arrived in the driveway, and several paramedics stormed the place, shouting orders and questions, but in the end of it all, they left him alone, amid the dappled blue and red walls and bloodstained floor. He followed after them, yelling to go with her.

"Sir, we have a few questions." A stern voice asked, pressing a hand to his shoulder forcing him backwards. Damon fell back defeated as he watched the ambulance drive away in a blur of noise and lights. He raised his weary eyes and stared into the eyes of the cop who had restrained him. He nodded curtly, running his hands through his hair. "Who shot your friend?"

"Do we have to do this now?" Damon asked curtly. "All I know is that I think they were aiming for me and they missed." He confessed hoarsely, purposely avoiding the main question. Perhaps this was the only time he would ever be grateful for the amount of times he'd been arrested; he knew how to avoid the main question.

"What were you doing here?" the cop powered on, a briskness about him which made Damon want to snap his neck.

"I live here. Or my dad does anyway." Damon hissed, gesturing at the house. "We came over here to get some stuff and there was people inside. I went to check and the kitchen was empty. I turn my back to the French doors and bam; she's lying on the floor in front of me because she was. I turned around and I saw two people leaving. Right now, she'd lying in a hospital and I don't know if she's dead or alive." The cop nodded slowly, noting things down in a small, leather bound notebook. "Can I go?"

The cop looked at him, staring him in the eyes for a moment before looking down at his notebook again. Damon groaned in frustration and clasped his hands behind his head. He shot the cop a dirty look before he stormed off, running to his car and putting it into gear and driving recklessly out of the driveway, sending dust clouds high into the sky.

"Elena Gilbert." He gasped out as he skidded to a halt in front of the receptionist desk in the hospital closest to his home. "Where is she?"

The young nurse looked up, staring him up and down cynically. "Are you family?"

Damon groaned in frustration, pacing back and forth. "Is she alive?" he yelled, punching the desk in anger. "Is she okay?"

The nurse looked at him sadly. "I can't release information to non-family members."

"She's important to me." He bit out desperately. "I just need to know she's okay. It's my fault. I was with her when it happened."

Raising an eyebrow, the nurse sighed and typed something into her computer. "You can't see her anyway, there's no news on her condition."

Damon bent over the desk, leaning his head in his hands. "Hey," an older nurse said to him, motioning him over. She was middle-aged with laughter lines and a bright smile. "She was alive earlier, I was on duty when they brought her in."

"Was?" Damon choked out, his eyes wide as his world stopped spinning. The nurse laid a hand on his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He sprinted out of the long, winding halls and out into the open air, breathing in deep, even breaths of the clean air. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he pressed the speed dial, holding it to his face. His eyes were closed tight as he tried to keep his emotions under wraps.

"Damon." Giuseppe said, surprised at his son's late night call. "Are you in jail? I thought you'd be curled up with your girl by now." he asked jokingly, trying to prompt his son into answering. Damon leant his forehead against the wall, his hands trembling furiously. "Damon?" he asked urgently, his fatherly instincts stirring underneath his immediate surprise.

Damon swallowed roughly past the lump in his throat. "It's Elena." He gasped out, his voice foreign to his own ears. "She was shot."

Giuseppe dropped his phone like it had suddenly shocked him. "Damon in jail again?" Grayson chuckled as he walked into the room, offering a beer to his friend. "You gotta give the kid credit, he'd never once spent more than a night."

"Gray." Giuseppe said, oddly calm as he took both beers off his friend and desk them on the dark wooden desk. "Elena was shot."

Grayson paled, the healthy color of his skin diminishing rapidly as the words registered in his mind. "Shot?" he choked out, waiting for a contradiction.

Giuseppe nodded somberly, motioning towards the door. "They won't tell Damon anything because he's not family."

"Damon?" Grayson said in a low voice. "Why is he always the center of everything?" he roared, punching a wall. "Why can't he keep her safe?"

"Stop." Grayson bellowed, restraining him and pushing against a wall. "If you can't see it then you're blind." Grayson calmed down slightly, pushing Giuseppe's restraining arm away and storming outside. "You're blind Gray!" Giuseppe shouted after his friend.

"Blind to what?" he snapped. "My daughter has been shot because your son couldn't keep her safe."

"No." Giuseppe hissed angrily. "This wasn't Damon's fault. He would have taken that bullet for her in a heartbeat."

"Then why didn't he!" he retorted loudly, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Use your brain, Gray." Giuseppe groaned, getting into a car and putting it into gear. "She's got him wrapped around her little finger the way Miranda had with you!" Grayson snorted derisively, sliding ungraciously into the car and fastening his seatbelt. "He's falling in love with her if he hasn't already. So you're blind if you think he didn't do everything he could to keep her safe."

"Where are we going?" Grayson snapped, ignoring his friend's ludicrous assumptions.

Giuseppe scowled. "We're not going anywhere until you open your damn eyes, Gray."

Damon strayed back into the building with its dreary walls and passed the reception desk bleakly. "Can I see her yet?"

The nurse looked at him understandingly. "She's got no listed next of kin, technically, you can wait in the waiting room." She admitted grudgingly.

Damon stared at the woman incredulously. "You're kidding me?" he said blankly. The nurse shook her head. "Don't let anyone else in there, got it?" he ordered.

She nodded, making a note in her computer. Perhaps there was something in his voice or in his face that made her listen. Perhaps it was the defeated look in his eyes. She gave him simple directions to a small waiting room in the ICU where there was nothing but the dull beeps of machinery creating an eerie melody in the silence to keep him company. He rested his head in his hands, taking shaky breaths to pass the time.

He didn't know how long it was before a doctor arrived, dressed in scrubs with her young face looking beaten and tired. "Elena Gilbert?" she queried. He nodded, sitting forwards eager for news. "She's alive." She sat down heavily in the unoccupied seat next to Damon and spoke gravely after a moment's silence. "But it's a fine line."

"Between what?"

"Between being okay and there being irreversible damage." She said seriously. "We don't know the extent of the damage as of late, but with two gunshot wounds to the torso, you're looking at a dangerous position to be in."

Damon buried his face in his hands, staring pleadingly up at the doctor through the tips of his fingers. "Do you have any good news?"

"She's alive." The doctor gave him a thin-lipped smile, clasping his shoulder gently. "That's better that most could have hoped for."

Damon breathed out a ragged breath. "Can I sit with her?"

"There are no visiting restrictions in the ICU," the doctor told him as she stood up. "You can stay with her as long as she's here."

Damon shot up immediately, listening vaguely to the directions she gave him and shooting off in the direction he indicated. It was only a few minutes later when he caught glance of her through the clear glass window. He edged quietly into the room and dragged a seat over to her bedside. He sat down heavily and gingerly took her hand between both of his palms.

"Hey." Elena croaked, her eyes were shut tightly as if she was trying to block out the pain.

"Hey back." He cleared his throat uneasily, and squeezed her hand gently. "How you feeling?"

"Like hell." She groaned, the noise of irritation swiftly turning to one of pain. "Go tell them to knock me out with pain med."

He closed his eyes, chuckling weakly. "Only you." He told her, pressing their joined hands to his lips.

"Damon." She groaned, her face pulled tight in pain. "I mean it."

He stood up quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Okay. I'll be back." She didn't reply. She just lay there, her skin a disconcerting shade of white, with her eyes squeezed shut. "Doc." He called out, seeing the doctor from earlier ahead of him in the hallway. "She says she wants more pain medication." The doctor whirled around, her face worried.

"She shouldn't be awake." She muttered absently, dashing to the nurses' station and ordering them to do something concerning a drip. "She should be out cold."

Damon caught the doctor's arm before he turned away. "Then why isn't she?"

The doctor, or Meredith Fell as it said on her badge, smiled weakly. "Guess she's a fighter." She nodded once to him. "Let the nurses put her on the drip then you can go back in with her."

Damon nodded. "Thank you." He whispered sincerely. Meredith's eyes softened as she smiled lightly at him.

"We're looking after her. We'll know more in a few hours." She told him before she walked away to tend to her other patients. It was then that he realized he still didn't have an answer. He didn't have the 'yeah, she's going to be okay' that he desperately needed.

Damon retreated back to Elena's room, leaning his head against the glass window as he watched her face tense and her body stiffened as the nurses shifted her slightly. He bit his lip to stop himself from shouting at them. They knew what she needed; he didn't and evidently, that was why she was lying there and he wasn't. The nurses left, leaving Elena out cold. He resumed his earlier position with her cold hand clasped in his grip. He rested his lips on his own thumbs as he sat there, the grim realization sinking in that she was lying there, her fate unknown, because he was too preoccupied with getting his answers that he couldn't keep her safe. He closed his eyes dejectedly, standing up slowly and leaving the room to call his father.

"Where are you?" he asked monotonously the second the dialing tone stopped.

"What's wrong?" his father shot back immediately. Damon could almost imagine the deep frown in his father's forehead. "Is she okay?"

"She's alive right now." He said, forcing the words out involuntarily.

"Right now?" Giuseppe echoed dully.

Damon nodded before he remembered he was on a phone. He cleared his throat, "Yeah. Doctor says they'll know more in a couple hours."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"They don't know." Damon whispered quietly. "Where's Gray?"

"Right beside me, and he-" there was a scuffle over the line, followed by a dull muffling sound and the vague sound of hushed arguing. "Damon-"

His father was cut off rudely and Grayson's clear voice came on the only. "You couldn't just keep her safe could you? She gets here, first day she gets hit by a car. Next thing, she's been shot." he growled roughly. "You should have kept her safe."

Damon nearly broke his phone in his fierce grip. "I tried."

"Try harder." Grayson snapped. "You're supposed to be…" he paused, clearly unsure of what to call the relationship between his daughter and Damon. "You're supposed to keep her safe."

"The bullets missed me by an inch. An inch." Damon hissed into the phone. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the aftermath of what was coming next. "You're supposed to be her father. What's your excuse? Where are you while you're daughter's lying in a hospital bed?" he hung up swiftly. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he numbly placed the phone back in his pocket and went back inside, situating himself by Elena's side.

"Damon?" Elena said to him softly, rousing him from his snooze. He lifted his head from its position hanging over the back of the chair. He looked at her blearily, refusing to believe she was conscious and capable of holding a conversation.

"Go back to sleep, Lay." He murmured letting his eyes droop closed. This had happened multiple times over the last week. She awoke briefly, said a few drowsy words to him before passing out minutes later. He'd barely left her side in the three days she had been in IC and the seven after that when they said she would recover. In a way, the past seven days had been as bad as the first three; the never-ending waiting was driving him insane.

"No." she said stubbornly, pushing herself up so she was in a sitting position. "Wake up!" she said laughing weakly, wincing slightly.

He opened one eye disbelievingly. "You're really awake?" he asked dubiously. "This has happened before, you normally pass out a few minutes later."

She looked at him blankly. "The last thing I remember was demanding pain meds from you." She confessed, running her hands through her hair. "How long ago was that?"

He leant forward, rubbing his weary face. "Ten days." He admitted, taking her hand softly in his and pressing it to his lips.

"You've been here ten days?" Elena said in astonishment, eyeing his appearance with knowing eyes.

"Technically I've only been here seven." He pointed out, rolling his shoulder backwards and cracking his neck. "You were in the ICU for about three days before that."

She stared at him in shock. "What happened?" she whispered.

Damon sighed, glancing at the doorway. "We need to talk about that." He ran his hands through his hair. "What do you remember?"

"We were at yours, and Stefan was there and Michael…" she trailed off, gazing up at him with big eyes. "You killed someone." She breathed quietly. "I saw the body, and you had guns…"

"Elena." He whispered, cupping her face gently. "We went to get you clothes. I heard people inside and went inside to check. You followed me in and the kitchen was empty. I turned around to talk to you and someone shot you from the French doors, okay?" he spoke quickly. "You don't know who is was and everything is pretty fuzzy. Okay?" he prompted. She nodded numbly, her breath coming in short breaths. "Hey." He said, brushing her hair back from her face. "Okay? It's important."

She nodded again. "I was shot?" she asked, brushing her chest absently with her hand. "Where?"

Damon's eyes tightened and he withdrew slightly. "Here," He brushed a particularly painful spot near the middle of her ribs. "And here." He said, pressing a throbbing area near her collarbone. "No one understands show you managed to survive." His eyes were drawn and cold, a shell of their previous beauty.

Looking blankly around the room, she refused to look at his eyes, knowing she would only see ice, not the burning light within them. "Where's Grayson?"

"Not here." He said shortly. "He's never here when I am. We've had words." He added delicately.

Elena snorted. "Words." She echoed.

"Yeah."

"What's up with you?" she asked bluntly, staring at him oddly. "You're acting weird."

Damon smiled weakly, the corners of his mouth only lifting slightly while his eyes remained dead. "You were shot, Lay." She shrugged flippantly. "It's my fault. You're in danger because I put you there."

She furrowed her brow. "No." she protested adamantly shaking her head. "No, I was already in danger."

Damon took her hand softly, standing up gently. He could feel his bones cracking. "This thing that's been going on." He said weakly, gesturing between the two of them. "I can't keep doing it. It's not helping anything. It's making you a target for more that just revenge." Finally, his eyes showed some emotion; a guilt as deep as the ocean is wide.

Elena drew back in shock, staring at Damon in disbelief. "Yes, because not being 'involved'" she said, mockingly putting air quotations around the word. "With you is going to make difference when a whole motorcycle club wants me dead."

"I can't, Elena." He told her regretfully. "You've almost died, more that once, in the past few days and I just can't."

She lay back in the stiff hospital pillows, staring at him with hard eyes. "If you can't, then why are you still here."

"It's my fault you're here, I wanted to make sure you're okay." He said halfheartedly as he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Great." She snapped, gesturing towards the door. "You can go now."

"Elena." He sighed in exasperation.

"Seriously. Just go, there's no point. We're not going to be friends either, because that involves actual emotions and that could make me a target, right?" she said angrily, her eyes blazing with a ferocity that only she could muster.

"Seriously?" he echoed. "You think I want to do this? I don't want to do this." He protested.

"But you did. So you can go now, I'm fine; alive and talking and everything. You did you're job, now go."

Damon stared at her intense eyes, looking beyond the anger to the hurt nestling there. He sighed, clenching his jaw. She'd told him, not even a month ago, that she expected him to leave, and he could see in her eyes that she was remembering the safe conversation. "You know I didn't mean it like that." He said, irritation budding in his chest. She was being deliberately obtuse; refusing to see the other side to every story.

"Does it really matter? You're still going to walk out that door."

He looked at her for a moment, considering telling her something that would make it all okay. He wanted to sit next to her again, talking to her, rolling his eyes at her bad jokes. He wanted to apologize and tell her he was being stupid and that he hadn't mean it; but he couldn't. She was in danger as long as she was involved with him, so he did was he didn't want to. He turned around on his heel and stormed out the door, swinging it shut with a resounding thud behind him.

A/N: OMGASDGHJK,MNBG I CAN'T EVEN. THAT EPISODE SDFGHJKL;HGCVBJUGV OMGV CFHBJSEUFB ZK CEV HDVSHGZASDFGHJKNBFREDFGT7YVJ H CL./'PO;BLJVIYC

just, omg.