A/N: Apologies that this is later than I wanted it to be. Title from Handel's Hallelujah Chorus in the oratorio Messiah.

Previously on Down the Isle…

Listen very carefully, because we're going to try and touch on everything. With the arrival of four new contestants, each one was allowed to go on a date. But none of them turned out how we might've expected. Fred, Anne's first love, asked her on his date… but afterwards, Anne described it as 'awful'. Maybe we should be more encouraged about Fred and Louisa, then, whose date was perfectly pleasant. New Mary went on a date with Will, but she promptly revealed that it was only because she wanted to drum some thoughts into Lizzy's head, and she actually wasn't interested in Will at all. But who is Mary B interested in? Certainly not Henry, who surprised everyone by going on a date with Fanny. That's right, the Fanny who's happily (though boringly) coupled up with Edmund… THOUGH NO MORE, because in the dumping last night, Edmund was the boy voted off the isle. But he wasn't the only boy to leave. Frank, whose quality as boyfriend material remains questionable, shocked everyone by deciding to leave the isle, following old Mary, who offered herself as a sacrifice to be voted off.

Got that? Now, prepare for another wild ride, on tonight's episode of Down the Isle…

"I don't care about anyone except Fred and Anne," said Tom. "And Will and Lizzy. And Emma and George, though they seem safe."

"For now," said Jane darkly.

Tom hummed. "You saw that thing of Frank and Mary leaving the airport right?"

"Of course."

"I'm telling you," said Tom. "Something's going on."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Like you're the relationship master."

It was difficult, on the isle, to focus on your own problems.

There was no space. Everyone lived together, ate together, slept in the same bloody room. Everyone's drama was your drama. Anne, like everyone else, had been stunned by Frank's words last night, when he'd run his hand through his floppy fringe and told everyone how he felt about Mary. For an entire evening, she had been distracted from the situation with Fred. Now, waking up on a new day, with the perpetually shining sun, everything came flooding back.

Oh, why on earth was he here? She'd asked him that on their terrible, awkward date, but he'd brushed it off and asked her a question about herself. He'd used to do that back when they were together, and eight years later, he hadn't changed.

Well. He'd changed in the way that mattered. Clearly he hadn't been harbouring unspoken feelings for her all these years. And why should she want him to? He was in her past — so long ago in her past, in fact, that she didn't recognise that version of herself any more. Anne was proud of who she'd become in the last eight years. She was exactly where she'd wanted to be. Only, except…

A new voice broke in her thoughts. "How's the shituation?" said Lizzy, ducking her head around the door of the terrace.

Anne jumped up and blinked. "What?"

"The shituation," said Lizzy, coming to sit down next to her. "Like a situation, except it's shit."

"Very clever," said Anne.

Lizzy grinned. "I try." She laid her head down on her friend's shoulder and they stared out at the villa from one storey up. Emma and George were sharing breakfast by the pool and Mary was slicing toast in the kitchen, but apart from that, it was quiet outside.

"Are you all right?" asked Lizzy.

Anne didn't reply for a few moments, which was how Lizzy knew that she was going to answer truthfully.

"I don't know," she finally said. "There's no normal way to deal with this, right?"

Lizzy laughed. "Going on a reality dating show to find a guy, only one of the guys who shows up is your first love whom you've never really moved on from?"

Anne sighed. "I do hate it when you put things in your own words."

"That's because I'm honest."

"Yeah, right. Why don't you describe your situation?"

Lizzy faltered.

"It's hypocritical for me to ask what are you scared of," said Anne. She added, sardonically, "But if you imagine that I'm Mary…"

"I know," said Lizzy. "I can't do this any longer. If I don't try and tell him, I'll go mad."

Anne laughed. Almost she wished that she was in Lizzy's position. Lizzy was one of those people whose self-possession was so strong it drew other people towards them; the force of her feelings for someone would inevitably mean the other person liked them back. And Will had already carried a torch for Lizzy from the first moment or maybe the second he had met her. They would be happy together.

Meanwhile, Anne didn't even know how she wanted Fred to feel about her.

Mary (Bennet, which goes without saying) was making toast in the kitchen when the worst person in the world appeared from the villa. She forced herself not to jump in alarm, because seeing a satisfied look on his face would do her physical pain. Instead, she looked up, smiled, and gave him the finger.

"Good morning," drawled Henry. He wasn't wearing a shirt because he was an arsehole. He leaned over to reach the one cupboard that was above Mary's head, and took out an apple.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating that Fanny is single?" asked Mary.

Henry ignored her, biting into the apple and staring at her toast.

"You're doing it wrong," he said lazily. "You should put the butter on before you toast it."

He had chosen to criticise Mary at the same moment she had a knife in her hand, which she considered foolish, though someone like Henry Crawford was probably so used to making foolish decisions that he didn't realise them any more.

"Don't tell me how to make my food," she said. "Anyway, wouldn't putting the butter on before be some safety hazard?"

"If you're not willing to do it," said Henry, "I can show you."

He was standing improperly close to her because he wanted to provoke her. Mary wanted to scream, and she also wanted to run her knife clean through him.

"Come on, Bennet," said Henry, lowering his voice to whisper in her ear, in mockery of a male lead seducing the heroine in some terrible novel Mary definitely hadn't read. "Let me butter your toast."

Mary whirled around and as she did so, punched him in the chest with her elbow. "Sorry," she said casually. "Didn't mean to do that."

In a way, she hadn't. Because unfortunately, she now knew how hard his chest was.

"See you," she said disparagingly, marching off with her breakfast to sit under a tree or something. Of course he didn't follow her.

Lizzy hadn't thought she was the kind of person who'd avoid her crush even though they were living under the same roof, but she was learning a lot of things about herself in here.

But this was it. She was beginning to annoy herself. She really thought she'd explode if she didn't tell him. He'd liked her too, once upon a time. There was some ground for her feelings to be reciprocated.

She paused before the door. How did one do this? She'd never been in this position before. Usually when she liked people, she told them over dinner or in bed; always in the flow of conversation.

She shook her head — she'd figure it out. She opened the door to the terrace where she'd spotted Will alone just minutes earlier.

"Oh," she said. "Can I — "

"Good morning, Lizzy," said Henry. "Will was just telling me about his date with Mary yesterday. I wanted to know if she'd only grown that stick up her arse overnight, or if it was always there."

Lizzy had almost forgotten about that date until Henry had brought it up.

"I like Mary," said Will. "Don't be a dick about her."

Henry whistled. "Should you be saying that in front of…" he inclined his head towards Lizzy, which was in a way even less subtle than just saying Lizzy's name, because he was suggesting as if there was something that he was trying to hide from Lizzy, and oh god did Will mean that he liked Mary?

Will frowned. "What? That I like Mary?"

Lizzy realised that she was an idiot.

"Anyway," said Henry. "Did you want something from us?"

"No!" said Lizzy. Oh God, she had to get out of here. "No, I thought that, er, you had something that I wanted, but, er, I think I misremembered. Bye!"

Of course the guy she liked fancied someone else. She tried not to begrudge Mary going on a date with Will — after all, she had done it to help, and she herself didn't like him. But it had created a disaster.

Fanny never lounged in bed, but she'd never been forcibly separated from someone she was romantically involved in either.

She missed breakfast. Anne and Emma very kindly brought her toast, a smoothie, some eggs and a sleeve of biscuits, but Fanny had only nibbled on some toast before deciding she didn't want to eat.

She felt awfully lonely in here. Perhaps she should've left with Edmund after all. But that was too big a step, too great a risk. If she'd left with Edmund, she'd effectively be stating that she believed in their week-long relationship. Instead, she'd remain on the isle, not being close to anyone… and see what happened.

As she sat in bed, trying to work up the courage and the will to get up and make some new friends, someone came through the door.

Henry.

She started when she realised it was him. She still didn't know why he'd asked her on his date yesterday, when he could've had anyone. It was an absurd prospect to imagine that he: charming, easy, rakish Henry Crawford could be interested in her: quiet, timid, uncolourful Fanny Price.

"Hey," he said, stopping by her bed on his long jaunt to the end of the room. "You all right?"

Fanny shrugged and tried not to look pitiful. "Fine, thank you."

Henry peered at her and saw the red-rimmed eyes, the blotchy face, the unkempt hair. "Usually when women say they're all right but have tear stains on their face, I tend to go with the tear stains."

Fanny blinked — mostly at the fact that he wasn't making a run for it, but also that he cared enough to look closer.

"I'll be fine," she said, because she certainly did not want him to stay. She could start crying again, with Henry Crawford there to see her, and it would be so humiliating she'd die. "I think you should believe women more."

It was entirely the wrong thing to say, because instead of going away and leaving her with her unfinished breakfast, he came even closer until he was sitting on the opposite bed, with mirth in his dark blue eyes. "I'll believe you when I see you eat some more of your breakfast."

Fanny's instinct was to eat some more, with the hope that he'd believe her and go away. But she suspected that was unlikely to happen. For some reason, Henry wanted to stay.

She examined her own feelings about this. On the one hand, she would rather like to be left alone. On the other, there was something about his presence that made her feel less… serious.

It turned out not to matter, because at that very second, George came in.

"Oh, hey, guys," he said. "Fanny, you might know this." He held up two pairs of sunglasses. "Which of these identical Ray-Bans belongs to Emma? She said I wouldn't be able to get it right, and I want to prove her wrong."

"If that isn't love," said Henry. He inspected the two pairs of sunglasses. "That one."

George raised an eyebrow. "I'd feel more confident if Fanny could confirm."

Henry passed the sunglasses to Fanny. "Henry's right," she said. Then she yawned. "Sorry," she said. "I'm still a bit sleepy."

"Oh, we'll get out of your hair then," said George. Henry stood up too. "Thanks for the tip," he added. "Emma's going to be so impressed."

"That was the fakest yawn I've seen in my life," said Tom.

"Henry clearly wasn't going to buzz off," defended Jane. "She made do with what she could."

"But why would she want him to buzz off?" Tom wondered. "He's attentive and interested in her."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Men," she said derisively, to no one in particular.

After George produced Emma's sunglasses and she whispered in his ear a promise of something we can assume was rather explicit, George decided to tease Emma with some very interesting news.

"So I bumped into Fanny in the villa," said George. "You'll never guess who I saw sitting on the bed opposite."

Emma's eyes widened. "Who?"

"Come on, Em. At least try and guess."

"I hate you," said Emma, without heat. "OK, who's unlikely enough that you'd know I'd want to know? A guy, surely. Oh my god, was it James? Maybe that was platonic; he seems like a really caring guy."

"Nope," said George.

"Ugh, just tell me," said Emma. "Or I won't do that thing I promised," she threatened lightly.

"Henry," said George speedily.

"Henry?" demanded Emma. "Interested in Fanny?"

"Apparently so," said George. "It looked like he was flirting, but he's always flirting, so maybe it didn't mean anything. But to try it on Fanny? He must be feeling really ambitious."

"He must be," declared Emma. "How did Fanny look?"

"Tired," said George.

"She always looks tired," said Emma dismissively.

George arched an eyebrow.

"That was unkind," Emma muttered. Then an idea came to her. "Wait," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Did Fanny tell you which sunglasses were mine?"

"No," said George. A pause. "Henry did."

Emma gave a triumphant laugh. "I knew you wouldn't be able to tell them apart!"

"Aren't you mad I lied?" asked George.

Emma shrugged. "I would've lied too. Anyway, you did fess up later."

"You're the coolest," said George. "I love you so much."

"I know," said Emma smugly. "I love you too."

We haven't been inside Will's head for a while, hmm? Well, after a disheartened lunch cooked by platonic couple Lizzy and James, Will hid away from the other contestants and told himself to get a fucking grip with his feelings.

If Mary was right — and by God he hoped she was — then he had a chance. And if he had a chance, he was going to take it and use it so wisely that Lizzy never regretted giving it.

After lunch, he found her sitting with Anne under the shade of a huge tree.

"Anne," he said, "can I talk to Lizzy?"

Anne's eyes widened. Will tried to send a message with his expression: if you make a scene I swear to God you'll regret it, but the end result was more ambiguous glaring.

"Off I go," said Anne, and off she went.

Will sat down in the deck chair she vacated. "Look," he said. "About that thing this morning — "

"It's fine!" chirped Lizzy. "No need to explain."

"But I — are you sure?"

"Yeah," said Lizzy. "Henry was being a dick anyway."

"He was," agreed Will. "Why do he and Mary hate each other so much?"

"Conflicting views," suggested Lizzy. Something in her made her say: "Like us."

Will's face immediately went red. "But we're good now," he said uneasily.

"Yeah, of course," said Lizzy. Will didn't even think they were on good terms? She really was an idiot. "So, um," she said. "If that's all…"

"Er," said Will. "Yeah."

"Great!" said Lizzy. She got up so fast she almost hit her head against a tree branch that was shading them. "See you later, I guess."

"They're killing me," said Tom. "No, they've already killed me. I'm dead."

Jane poked his shoulder. "You don't seem it."

Please don't hate Louisa too much for talking to Fred. From her side of things, they had a pretty good date, she found him attractive, and after all, she was on the isle to find love.

"So," said Louisa, settling down next to him. "Right, I know this is weird, but I have to ask… you and Anne?"

Fred had calculated how to approach this topic.

"Yeah," he said, sticking to the facts. "James told me that everyone knows. Um, so we were together when we were teenagers, but we haven't been in contact since."

"Oh," said Louisa, looking relieved. She'd connected the dots and came to the sensible conclusion that Anne and Fred were ancient history which no longer meant anything. "Well then, that's… awkward."

Fred laughed. "A bit."

"But you're on good terms, right?" Louisa continued, somewhat anxiously. "I like Anne; I don't want her to hate me or anything."

"Er," said Fred.

It was at this moment that the Fates had decided to have a right laugh at us weak mortals chained to the earth, because Anne came out of the villa and walked across the kitchen towards the patio, crossing past Louisa and Fred.

Her attempt to pretend she hadn't seen them failed. Louisa, half as a plot device and half from naïve well-meaningness, perked up when she saw her.

"Oh, hey, look who's coming!" she said. "Anne!" she called, and waved her over.

Anne had no choice but to go, and Fred had no choice but to sit there and watch the love of his life join him and a girl he suspected might slightly fancy him.

"Hey, Louisa," said Anne, putting on an admirable front of not wanting to sink into the tiled floor. "Fred."

"Hey," said Louisa, and patted the space next to her. Anne sat down. "How've you been today?"

"Er, fine," said Anne. "And you?"

"Good!" said Louisa. "Fred and I were just talking — he confirmed that you two used to date." She said this, remarkably, without any spite in her tone. "Look, why didn't you say anything to me? I had to find out from Emma yesterday afternoon. I thought we were close enough that you'd tell me something like that."

Anne blinked. "Um," she said. "Well, last night we were all distracted…"

Fred cut in. "It was so long ago," he said. "It doesn't really — "

"Exactly!" said Anne. "I didn't want to make it a thing when it wasn't a thing — well, obviously we were a thing, but that was a long, long time ago. We're not a thing any more."

"We're nothing," offered Fred, the barest hint of a smile colouring his tone.

Louisa nodded, seemingly comforted by this, whilst Anne fought her urge to laugh. It was absurd, but she wanted to laugh with Fred over their situation. He'd always done this: used his clever, wry humour at horribly inappropriate times, because he'd wanted to make her laugh. Belatedly she remembered that this time, his comment was probably not for her benefit, and that smothered any chuckle that was threatening to burst forth.

"Oh, this is kind of awkward," said Louisa finally. "I feel bad. I didn't mean for it to be like this."

Was there any way to convince someone that an awkward situation wasn't awkward?

"I think Lizzy's getting annoyed of waiting for me," said Anne. It was so obviously a blatant lie to get out of this conversation, but she didn't care. "I'll see you later," she said to Louisa but plausibly including Fred as well, and escaped from the situation.

"Oh NO," said Tom. "But clearly not, right? I'm clinging desperately onto my theory that Fred's here to win Anne back."

"Ancient history doesn't look like that," Jane agreed.

"Anne, what the hell?" demanded Emma. After the impossibly awkward conversation with Fred and Louisa, Anne had fled to the nearest comfortable group she could see: Emma and George. She was third wheeling but she didn't care. Emma and George were a fun couple to third wheel; and Emma's impulsive conclusions were always balanced out by George's steadier thought process. But even George was giving Anne a look of sharp judgement.

"I have no idea why you even went over there," Emma continued. "Firstly, you and Fred have no closure about your past, so it's madness to talk about it with a third party who isn't a therapist. And even if you did have closure and were totally over it, that girl is interested in your ex! You walked straight into a minefield!"

"I hate to say it," said George, "but Emma's right."

"You love to say that," corrected Emma. At George's protesting face, she said, "Look, we can argue about it later. I repeat: Anne, what the hell?"

"I don't know," said Anne miserably. "But now I have to talk to Fred alone, right?"

"YES," said Emma and George at the same time.

"Why is it," wondered Anne, "that when people give you advice, it's never anything you want to follow?"

Henry had wisely decided not to speak to Fanny again today. She was the kind of girl who took things slowly, and he didn't want to overwhelm her.

He decided to have some fun, and sought out Mary.

She was swimming, which made was odd, but as a rule he expected odd things from her. To Henry's memory, no one on the isle had ever actually swum in the pool.

"You want to keep your legs more even," he said, watching Mary's front crawl with an appraising eye. He bit back a laugh when her legs kicked even more erratically. "No, don't sacrifice your technique because of your feelings towards me," he said. "I only have your best interests at heart."

Mary finished the length and trod water to speak to him; she was not going to go through the vulnerability of getting out, wrapping herself in a towel, lying on the day bed to dry off. "I don't care," she said.

"Oh, but you do," he said. "You should listen to me. I was on the team for the Youth Olympics."

"Congratu-fucking-lations," said Mary. It was difficult to remain dignified when treading water. "It's so refreshing to meet a man who's proud to declare his hairlessness."

Henry tutted. "Careful, Bennet." He nodded towards a camera. "You wouldn't want to perpetuate ideals of toxic masculinity on such a platform."

Mary wanted to throw something at him, but was worried splashing him with water would come across as — heaven forbid — playful.

"Find someone else to annoy, Crawford," said Mary, as if she was bored of and not absorbed in this conversation. "I have laps to do."

"Gladly," said Henry, and he took off without another word.

Perhaps he would speak to Fanny again today.

Anne knew she had to do this, but it didn't make it any easier.

After dinner, she'd quietly asked Fred if they could talk. Now they were on the terrace, where no one was going to disturb them, and she had no idea what to say.

"So," said Fred.

"So," said Anne.

They looked at each other, and it was like some memory of their old familiarity slipped something back into place.

"I can't believe how awkward this is," moaned Anne, covering her face in her hands. "What's wrong with us?"

"We haven't spoken in a while," said Fred.

Anne glared at him. "I know that."

Then he pulled away. "What you said earlier," he began. "I swear, I didn't know Louisa was going to — "

"No, I know," said Anne. She thought against it, but added, "You looked so uncomfortable; you clearly didn't want to be there."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Frightfully," confirmed Anne.

She didn't know why she expected him to tease her on her use of a word from a long gone era, but anyway he didn't. "You said to Louisa that we were in the past."

"Aren't we? I mean, it was so long ago. We're both very different people. I mean, I know I am. I don't even know you any more."

"I am as well," said Fred.

"For what it's worth," Anne added softly, "I'm sorry. I never gave us a chance for the future."

"I didn't let you change your mind," said Fred.

She nodded and felt the unbearably wide chasm between them grow wider. What else could she say? The time for everything had gone. Their friends were downstairs and she was afraid of what she'd begin to want if she stayed here with Fred too long.

"So that's that, then," she said brightly. "I'm glad we talked."

"Me too," said Fred.

"No," said Tom. "That's not it. SURELY. Anne's just scared! There is NO CONCEIVABLE EXPLANATION why Fred is here, except that he wants to win Anne back. Is there? IS THERE?" he demanded of Jane.

Jane regarded his frustration coolly. "Perhaps he wants a free holiday."

Tom clutched his heart. "Woe betide me if he is so cold."

It was a quieter evening than usual, as most of the drama today has been rather contained. No one had exploded in a burst of emotion. Yet.

Will scanned the outside for any sight of Lizzy, but his eyes couldn't find her. Curious, he slipped away into the villa.

Lizzy was hiding out inside. It was too awful that Will didn't even think they were on good terms. And now, looking back, she realised that he was right. They weren't friends; not like he and Anne. So what was she supposed to do now? She could be brave and march up to him and say that she really liked him, but where would that get her?

She was flicking aimlessly through a collection of famous villanelles when Will flung open the door to the living room where Lizzy sat reading, and strode in.

Lizzy put her book down.

"Hello," she said, her voice hollow.

She almost thought he'd ignored her, or perhaps he hadn't even seen her, and that would be truly embarrassing… but then she looked at him, and his eyes were fixed on her face.

"I don't know what to do about this," said Will.

Lizzy stared at him.

"Mary said that you — no, that's unfair. Lizzy," he said, and she practically shivered with the way he said her name. Her heart was beating erratically fast. "I thought I was fine with keeping it to myself and living like some quiet martyr, but I'm not. I'm not asking anything of you. I only want to say that — fuck, I don't know, I like you. That sounds inadequate. But — "

He broke off, because Lizzy was kissing him.

He pulled back, terrified that what he'd wanted for so long was really happening. "Lizzy," he said raggedly. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said, making another bid to capture his mouth with hers. "I realised two days ago that I like you enormously."

"Oh," said Will, opening his mouth, and the rest of his sentence was lost.

A while later, Lizzy said, "I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to deal with it. No wonder you've been weird for weeks."

"I've been weird since birth," said Will grudgingly.

Lizzy grinned up at him. "Sorry, I didn't let you finish your speech."

He nipped at her mouth. "It's a good thing you didn't. I was about to say some intense things."

She smiled slyly. "Hadn't you already?"

He felt a warmth swell in his heart; he loved it when she teased him. "I'd do anything for you sounded a bit much," he admitted.

She laughed and pressed her head against his chest. "Maybe. But I'm glad you said them."

Tom hadn't said anything when Lizzy and Will kissed, and now Jane was worried. She peered over at his small, stunned face. "Are you all right?"

"No."

"OK…"

"I'm dead."

That was pretty much it for the evening. Lizzy and Will stayed inside for a while longer, but agreed that everyone would be suspicious if they never came out, and also agreed they wanted to keep things between them secret — at least for a bit. Henry and Mary traded barbs with a powerful undercurrent of sexual tension that made everyone else pretend they were having intense conversations of their own. Later, Henry could be seen paying very marked attention to Fanny, who smiled pleasantly and tried not to look uncomfortable. Louisa chatted to Fred and James but was listened to by the one she less preferred; Lizzy and Will stood in the sidelines when Anne talked to George, and stole secretive glances at each other. Finally, everyone gave up pretending they'd rather be outside than in bed, and trudged up the stairs to the bathrooms.

"You seem happy," said Anne to Lizzy, as they got ready for bed.

Lizzy smiled innocently. "I guess I'm in a good mood."

Anne narrowed her eyes at her friend.

"Right," she said. On another day she might've stared Lizzy down and waited for her to confess, but tonight her head was full of thoughts of Fred. She resolved to go to sleep — the final time she'd have to share a bed with Will, she hoped — and return to the situation with a clear head in the morning.

The episode finished. "Oh, by the way, did you see that thing about Lydia and Wickham?"

"Did I?" said Tom. "Of course. What a dickhead."

"Poor Lydia."

"Wickham is the scum of the earth."

"To get cheating in a club is just foolish," added Jane. She sighed. "Well, they were hardly going to last."

"It's nice that Harriet and Martin are doing well," offered Tom.

"Oh, yeah. I saw that they're moving in together."

"That's nice."

"Do you think? Sometimes that can ruin a relationship."

"We live together," said Tom.

"Yeah, but we don't — we're not dating."

"Yeah, I know."

There was an awkward silence. Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she never had awkward silences with Tom. For as long as she could remember, they had been comfortable around each other. Surely any second now they'd burst into laughter at the same time, repelling the awkward silence back to the abyss it came from…

They didn't.

She swallowed. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She sealed the unfinished bag of cashew nuts neatly and binned the Snickers wrappers. "Remember Cassandra!" she said as she walked out the room.

Tom's answer was a noncommittal grunt.

A/N: It happened! Finally, our main idiots have made out. Obviously they are only at the beginning of their relationship, but at least it's bloody began. So, of course, I ended with the reminder of a relationship that has not begun.

I am so so (not) sorry for that filthy joke at the end of the first Henry/Mary conversation.

Tell me what you thought, find me on Tumblr and I'll see you w the next chapter v soon!