Bianca had nearly dropped the phone, her knees buckling. "Spencer's been shot," JJ explained.

"What?" There was no way she had heard that correctly. She righted herself, gripping the railing to her left. The airport was noisy, perhaps she had misunderstood between the intercom announcements and surrounding conversations.

"It was pretty touch and go, but they think he's going to pull through." They think? As in, there was a chance he might not. "He's in surgery right now, Garcia's on her way here to stay with him." Dating an agent, she'd known that the possibility he could get hurt out in the field would always be there, but there was no way it had actually happened this time. And yet, it had. Hundreds of miles away in Texas, while she was supposed to be boarding a plane across the ocean, he was in a hospital with a severe gunshot wound.

It wasn't even a question, what to do next.

As soon as they hung up, she turned around halfway through the security line, and tore her way back through the airport. So many runs she had been on, but she couldn't seem to make her feet move fast enough over the ground, her suitcase bumping on the ground behind her. At the ticket counter she tried to explain the situation in a breathless rush of words. After a frantic exchange, tears, and paying twice as much as the ticket was worth, she found herself on a tiny charter plane headed for Texas.

It was cold on the little plane, and sparsely populated, though she was one of the only passengers not sleeping at this late hour. How had things gone so wrong? Only two days ago, he'd been standing in her bedroom and helping her pack. Kissing her goodbye after being summoned away on a case. What if it was the last time she saw him? The last time she heard him laugh or held his hand. She wasn't ready for lasts, not when she'd been looking forward to so many firsts with him. She wanted more time with him. Time to move in with him, to travel to new places together, to wander through the parks in the fall. She wanted to write him poems and read them to him, to cook breakfast together in a house they could call their own. She wanted to fall asleep in the same bed and stay up all night talking. She wanted all of those things, but only with him. Always with him.

Once back on the ground she hailed a cab and directed him to the West County Medical Center. She didn't even have enough strength to pray, all of her energy was focused on not crying and not yelling at the driver to go faster.

There was no way she could lose him, not now, not after everything they'd survived together. Not a wish, but a need she had to be by his side, to make sure he was okay. He'll be okay. He has to be okay. He's Spencer. He'll make it. Against the chill of the night air, she pulled her sweater – his sweater, the one he'd packed for her – tighter around her body, repeating those words in her mind, searching for any form of security she could find.

The hospital was imposing, a looming tan-brick structure. In those walls, life began and ended. Lives were saved and lost, and so much could hang in the balance from the moment one entered through the doors. Hurrying out from the taxi she sprinted into the lobby, her suitcase still in tow. She had nowhere else to put it. There were people milling about the front desk, families sitting in chairs and nurses dashing in this direction or that. It was overwhelming, and she wasn't sure entirely where to go or what to ask, until she spied a familiar face.

Morgan was waiting for her, and he waved her over, led her up the stairs. He seemed calm, and the air of ease the agent maintained helped ease her worries a little bit. "He's in room 202," was all he needed to say. Bianca took off and didn't stop running until she reached the door. Spencer was there, reclining in a hospital bed, gauze around his neck. She stepped inside, dropping her things in a heap by the chair as he studied her curiously.

"Hey," he said, his voice hoarse and weak. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on a plane."

"I was supposed to be on a plane. That's not important right now. Spencer, are you okay?"

"I got shot."

A shaky laugh left her throat. "Yeah, I can see that. I mean, how are you feeling?"

"No painkillers, so, I'm not great." He looked awful, his eyes heavy and his face pale. "But I don't want you to worry about me." It was all too familiar, Spencer in a gown, hooked up to an IV and monitors. On the little table next to his bed were two cups of Jell-O – cherry, his favorite – and four Doctor Who figurines, most likely the work of Penelope. Good Doctors for her good Doctor.

Bianca shook her head, sighing. "We've spent too much time in hospital rooms this year." Sitting down in the chair beside his bed, she curled her feet underneath her and listened as he gave her the abridged version of what happened. It was worse than he was letting on, she could tell, and there was a pang in her chest when she realized how close to losing him she had come.

Not only had he been shot, but he'd been hunted down by a corrupt deputy, and then nearly killed by a nurse. Garcia had saved his life, and she made a note to buy Penelope flowers and as many red velvet cupcakes as possible.

"When are you leaving for Amsterdam then?" he asked.

She touched his hand lightly. "I'm not. I'm not going anywhere, not while you're hurt."

"But your class…" The notion that she would willingly leave after discovering he'd been gravely injured was absurd to her.

"It can wait," she told him. "Everything else can wait. You're the most important thing in my life." Too many times, too many times already she had nearly lost him for good. After everything they had been through, she couldn't bear the thought of a world without him in it. He was the world, her whole world.

Her words seemed to have an odd effect on him, for he sat up suddenly, wincing. "My bag," he said. "I need my bag."

Bianca surveyed the room until she found his messenger bag in a corner. Morgan must've left it there for him. "What do you need?" she asked, picking it up. She started to open the flap of the leather bag. "I'll get it for you."

"No! No!" he cried. "Just, um, just hand it to me. Please." With a raised eyebrow, she tentatively moved back towards him, giving him the bag and taking a seat once again. What was so urgent that he himself had to get it? His next request was even more confusing. "Now, uh, close your eyes." Hesitantly, she did so.

There was the sound of objects being shuffled, the bag being pushed aside, and then, "Okay. You can open them now."

She wasn't sure exactly what she had been expecting, but he didn't appear to be holding anything at all. There must've been something in that satchel to make him feel a bit better, but if anything he looked worse. His hands shook, he seemed anxious, and his eyes searched her face; what he was looking for, she wasn't sure. "There's something I need to tell you," he said.

"What's going on?" she asked. Only a few minutes ago had she arrived, and now he was making strange demands.

"Please just come here." Skeptically she rose, and stood next to his bed, her fingers running over the edge of his sheets. He inhaled slowly, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. In an effort to calm him down, she reached for his hands, rubbing small circles on his sweating palms.

"I – I'm not good at these sorts of things," he said. "I mean, I know what I want to say, I had a whole speech planned and I even memorized every word, but it's the actual saying it that's so hard for me. I've never been good at that exactly. But you already know that." He was rambling now.

"Spencer, whatever it is, you can tell me." She was trying to read him, but coming up blank. A moment ago he was so calm, what was making him so nervous now?

"All of that… all of those things I had planned out don't really fit now, but I want to say something I mean, I feel like I should." Was he going to tell her he'd used Dilaudid again? Had something happened on the case, other than getting shot? Was he going to ask her to leave again? She held her breath as he continued. "I just – I just need you to know that you're still the brightest thing in my world. I see so much darkness every day, and through it all you've been a living light for me."

He gripped her hands firmly now, speaking so gently, and she could feel water rising in her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. No matter what he was going to tell her, she was not going to cry. "You always chase the darkness away, and you make every day something beautiful. You light up everything with your love. And there's so many other things I could say, that I was going to say, but it just seems so silly now. There's only thing that really matters…"

He pulled his hands from hers abruptly. From under the blankets, he withdrew a small velvet box. Still puzzled, she frowned at him, but before she could ask why he was saying these things, and why he was so uncharacteristically jumpy, he held it up to her. "I – I would get down on one knee but… I can't." Her stomach dropped and time slowed to a crawl in that tiny hospital room.

Oh. And also, oh god.

"Bianca Brown? Will you marry me?" She registered vaguely that he had opened the box, but she wasn't looking, she was too focused on than man holding the box and trying to process the words that had just come from his mouth.

The tears were coming in earnest now and she couldn't explain them – there were few moments in her life that had felt this happy, many of them involving Spencer, and there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to spend all of her days by his side. Maybe it was the knowing that drew the tears; knowing everything that had led the two of them to that very moment, the winding and long road full of so much joy and so much pain.

Her eyes met his, and she realized he was still staring at her. He swallowed hard, waiting, and it occurred to her that she should probably say something.

"Yes," she choked out. "Of course."

"Oh thank god," he breathed, stretching over the side of the bed to wrap his arms around her shaking frame. She buried her face into his hospital gown, trying to stop crying as she reminded herself that, yes, this was real and this was happening and he was here. "For a second I was worried you might say no."

She gave a half-hearted laugh, because the notion was just so far-fetched and impossible. Pulling back to look at him, she asked, "Why on earth would you think that?"

"I don't know. I was just scared. More than scared. I was terrified. That was awful. The longest two minutes of my life. We should really get rid of that custom – which reminds me…" They were both smiling now, and he fiddled with the box again. "I should probably give you this."

He opened the box back up, but it was empty. His eyes went wide, and he blinked at it, confused. "Wait, that can't be right." He checked the blankets and sheets around him, seemingly panicked. "Hang on. What's that?" He reached behind her ear to reveal the ring, grinning. "I practiced that trick with Henry," he admitted, slipping it on her finger. "This wasn't exactly what I had planned, but I wanted to make this at least a little magical."

The ring was delicate and plain, a small circle of rose gold that held a gem which practically seemed to glow. It was a warm golden-orange, with hints of something within it that made her think of flickering candlelight. "It's beautiful," she said. "What is it though?"

"It's a sunstone. Named so because in the light, the gem looks like it's on fire. I know a diamond is more traditional, but this just seemed… right." Something like sunshine for the woman who brought light to every corner of his universe.

"This is wonderful." She laced her fingers through his again, and for a second all she wanted to do was capture that moment in her mind.

"Not really," he said quietly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I've been planning it for weeks. I would tell you I was away on a case, and then I was going to surprise you at the airport right when you got off the plane, and I was going to have flowers and it was going to be perfect."

Bianca smiled at him, brushing the water from her eyes. "Nothing about us is perfect. We've never been a normal couple. But I wouldn't have it any other way." Perfect, normal, none of that mattered to her. All she needed was him, safe and healthy and by her side. As long as she had that, everything was right in the universe, if only for a minute. "Do you know I love you, Spencer Reid?"

"I should hope so," he whispered back. He leaned in closer, their mouths meeting in a deep kiss. Just as she started to put her arms around him, there was a low, loud whistle.

Her eyes flew open, and they both turned towards the direction of the sound. Standing in the open doorway was the entire BAU team. Garcia was elbowing Morgan, evidently the culprit, in the side; everyone else was looking on with a smile. Color flooded her cheeks, but even that couldn't steal the happiness from the moment.

"Oh finally!" Garcia exclaimed. "I was wondering when you would finally ask!"

Bianca looked over at her friend, surprised. "Wait, you knew about this?"

Penelope laughed. "Well, I may or may not have noticed that a certain doctor made a fairly expensive purchase at a shop that primarily sells engagement rings. I made my own inferences from there." It wasn't easy for the analyst to keep a secret so long, but by some untapped source of patience, she'd managed for this long.

When a few doctors forced them out to check on their patient, the team ventured down to the cafeteria for cups of coffee. Only Alex remained, lingering outside Spencer's door with her.

"Congratulations," she said. "And I'm sorry for the circumstances. It was my fault - he took that bullet for me."

The concern on her face was clear, a mix of regret and shame. Then there was the way she worried over Spencer, the way he spoke of her so fondly. If Bianca didn't know any better, she would've mistaken the two for mother and son.

"It's not your fault," Bianca replied. "Alex, he thinks very highly of you. And he cares about you. Of course he would protect you. That's his job. You would've done the same for him. And as for the circumstances?" She paused, glancing back towards room 202. "Honestly, none of that is important. He's going to be okay. That's all that matters. And he's going to be okay because you were there to help him."

Alex gazed at her for a long moment, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You really love him, don't you?"

"More than I even know how to say." The poet, at a loss for words when it came to him. There were some feelings that simply couldn't be explained, never in any way to do the original emotion justice.

"I'm glad you have each other. Take good care of him, will you? He's a very special person."

The statement seemed oddly final, but Bianca nodded, ignoring the confusion she felt. "I know. Believe me, I know." The time they had – apart and together – had taught her that long ago. There would never be anybody else quite like Spencer.

After the rest of the team went back to the hotel to sleep, she stayed with him, curling up in the hospital chair. A nurse was checking his vitals, telling him something about how much time needed to pass before he was allowed to carry things or before the pain in his neck would begin to subside.

"Don't rush it," the woman said. "With enough time, everything heals."

That got her thinking, and she frowned at the ring on her left hand, running her right index finger over it. "What's on your mind?" Spencer asked.

Bianca glanced up, realizing that the nurse was gone. How exactly to put her thoughts into words, she wasn't sure, but he was watching her now and it was terribly difficult to lie to him. "I know you already asked me, and I know I already said yes, but I was just wondering if we're really ready for this. If you're sure about this. Not even two whole years have gone by since… And we've only been dating for ten months."

Were they rushing into things? Did he somehow feel obligated to ask her? Rarely did she allow her mind to wander that far into the future when it came to their relationship, but from time to time she found herself wondering what it would be like to spend every day, every year together. To marry him, to move in with him. Happiness. That's what she thought it would be like. Bliss.

"That's true," he admitted. "But we've been close since March, that brings us to about a year and five months; statistically, the average American couple is engaged after a mere twenty-five months of dating. Really, if you think about it, I've known you for almost four years, and that's more than enough time to for me to now that how I feel about you isn't going to change. I'm not going to feel this way about anyone else. After Maeve, I didn't think I would ever be able to feel that way at all again. I didn't plan on it, but I'm positive that this is what I want, and after nearly dying, I just didn't want to wait any longer."

There was no doubt in her mind what she felt for him, but she never wanted him to feel indebted to her in any way. To know he wanted this just as much came as a great comfort. He wanted a future with her, and now they could really begin to build one. That night he feel asleep quickly, aided by what little medication he actually agreed to take. She stayed up a little while longer, listening to the sound of his breathing slow to a gentle rhythm, unable – and a little unwilling – to take her eyes off of him. It seemed impossible to sleep when she was already in the midst of a dream, a wonderful one she wouldn't have to wake up from.

To her great relief, Hotch agreed to let her fly back with them the next day. Bianca wasn't sure she could stand to be away from Spencer for even a minute. They left as soon as he was discharged, and she found herself unable to stifle a laugh as he pouted when Alex and Garcia forced him into a wheelchair. On the plane though, all the chaos of that night caught up with the two of them, and she fell asleep sitting up on the long seat, Spencer dozing under a blanket with his head in her lap; the cozy portrait of a happy couple, one that prompted a few photos snapped from Morgan's phone for future teasing.

When they landed, Alex offered to take Spencer back to his apartment. "You must be tired," she told Bianca. "I promise I'll look after him. I'm guessing you have a call to make to your professor." After a long look at Blake, Spencer agreed, to her surprise.

"You go home," he said. "If something comes up, I'll call you. But I think I should go with Alex."


That night, he watched as one of his best friends, the teammate who best understood him, walked away. He had seen too many people come and go on that team, and he recognized the signs when someone was ready to leave. Reid only wished that he could've said more to her, thanked her for more than just being there for him when he woke up.

Alex gave him advice about Maeve, she helped him to work through his thoughts, and she was almost maternal towards him – that made sense now, of course. But he was still grateful that while his own mom was miles away, there was someone who he had come to rely on for things that moms typically did for their sons – encouraging him, helping him with relationships, in some ways even taking a certain responsibility for him. From that text at the restaurant – she will love you – to assuring him that Bianca didn't see him as a burden. She was gone now too though, gone like Elle and Emily before her, and Reid wondered if it would still be okay to call her sometimes, when there were things he needed a mother's advice on.

How many people could he carry around in his heart like that? In a way, his messenger bag had become his heart. It used to store only his mind – case files, books, pens, things of that sort. Now four people inhabited the pockets inside.

First had been Maeve, The Narrative of John Smith never far from him, the only real thing that he had left of her. When he was home, it sat on his shelf, and when he was away it came with him. She came with him. Bianca noticed it once, and he worried she would be upset, but she had merely set back within the flaps and hugged him tightly, some sort of understanding passing in that embrace.

After Maeve had been his mother, one of the postcards from the Grand Canyon Diana had mailed to him a small token of her improving health. Third had been Bianca. A few weeks ago, he had moved the velvet box from his sock drawer to the bag, not yet certain when he wanted to ask her that question. If he carried Maeve with him, it seemed right to bring Bianca along too, if only so that his fingers could find the velveteen fabric to quell his fears and assure him that soon enough, they would be together for good. Of course, the box was empty now, no ring inside. He wanted to keep it there though, because she had chosen him, had said yes. There was always the option of putting something of hers inside, perhaps one of her poems.

And now, Alex. Blake's FBI badge had been tucked into the bag, and he wasn't sure when she had managed to do so. Was it at the hospital? On the plane ride home? Maybe when she had helped him up the stairs. Did she know that he kept those mementoes in his bag? It didn't seem likely, but his mom once told him that sometimes, a mother just knows. He would've been a lot like you. All he could think was that if Diana had full control over her mind and her body, she probably would've been a lot like Alex Blake.

A single day could so much, joy and grief alike, wonderful beginnings and painful goodbyes, angels and demons in equal kind.

For a few hours, he sat in silence, mourning the loss of yet another friend – another family member – wanting just to be alone. Eventually, he came to two conclusions: the first, that he needed to sleep; the second that if he had learned anything in the last year, it was that sometimes when he wanted nothing more than to be sad alone, those were times he needed someone most. Reid found his phone again, and dialed her number.

"Bianca? Can you come over after all? I don't want to be alone tonight."


Once he was fully healed from the incident, they finally took the trip he had promised her ages ago: to Las Vegas, to meet his mother. They left early Saturday morning together from Dulles Airport, and Reid thought his girlfriend – no, he reminded himself once again, she was his fiancée now, and those three syllables made his chest swell with pride because she had chosen him – seemed even more excited than he was. Visiting his Diana always filled him with a sense of anticipation and apprehension. As much as he loved her, he worried that there would come a day when even on her medication she would forget him. Bianca though, had no inhibitions, and practically skipped through the airport.

"I just can't believe that I finally get to her meet her! After all this time, we're really going to Las Vegas," she was saying.

Beside her he was dragging his feet along the tile floor, trying to suppress a yawn. "I can't believe you're not allowed to bring coffee past security. It ought to be a crime to deprive someone of caffeine this early in the morning."

She threaded her arm through his, giggling. "My love, I promise to buy you some coffee as soon as we find our gate." Bolstered by that guarantee, he jogged down the wide corridor to find the gate marked C24, fortuitously situated right next to the Starbucks. All he wanted was to lay down across the seats, but he found himself disappointed by the immobile armrests preventing him from doing so, slumping down in one near the large glass window. True to her word, Bianca soon joined him, carrying drinks in both hands. She sat down sideways in his lap, bending her knees so her feet rested on the seat next to him.

"This one is yours." In his hand she set a warm coffee cup, smelling wonderfully of espresso and something sweet. "Caramel mocha, with lots of whipped cream."

"Thank you," he said, turning her chin so he could kiss her, and ignoring the middle-aged businessman gawking at them from the opposite gate. He wished there more words for love in the English language so he could express how much he adored her without repeating himself. If there was anything he had learned in the last year though, it was that there were half a million ways to say "I love you" without actually saying so. Love was hidden in other words, like when she told him to drive safely, or he asked her if she had eaten; in all the good mornings and good nights and I missed yous that passed between them. Sometimes, you didn't need to say anything at all, love was apparent in gestures too, in a kiss or an embrace, but also in the coffee she brought for him and books he read with her and in all the times they had both decided to stay.

Bianca rested her head on his shoulder, drinking iced tea while he refueled his depleted energy supply until the plane began to board. They strolled down the jetway together, and he was still pleased every time his right hand found her left, as it now did, and the metal ring brushed his fingers. It meant yes, a reminder that she'd chosen him after all. For the rest of forever. Reluctantly Reid let go so she could step through the narrow door of the plane just before him.

There were several things that made them all the more aware of the difference between his height and her short stature. When he spotted her in the aisle next to their seats, she was trying in vain to toss her duffel bag into the overhead bin. It was amusing to see her there, the hem of her sweater rising slightly as she hopped up and down, not wanting to swing it in and risk hitting someone. He caught the duffel mid-jump, taking it from her hands and tossing it with ease up into the bin beside his leather suitcase before he slid into the seat beside her.

Legroom, that was another disparity in their heights. She could push her backpack under the seat in front of her and still have more than enough room, but the cramped arrangement forced his knees against the back of the preceding chair. It was some consolation that she could still lean down to hand him snacks a book to distract him from lack of space.

Traveling with someone was an opportunity to learn things that otherwise didn't come up in discussion. After several flights across countries, she was a pro at getting her shoes and belongings into a security bin, while he was still fumbling to untie his sneakers by the time she had collected her belongings on the other side of the scanner. She preferred the window seat, while he was happy to take the aisle. And she chewed gum during takeoff, in contrast to his own preference for Starburst. Any opportunity he saw to eat candy, he seized.

"There's something I was thinking about last night," Bianca said, as the plane ascended.

"What's that?" He popped another Starburst into his mouth with a glance her way. Outside the window, the sky was the pale blue shade of mid-morning and not a cloud in sight.

"It was something you said just before I left for Amsterdam actually. We were in my bedroom, and I told you that when I graduated from Georgetown, you would have to call me Doctor Brown. You just said, I don't know about that. Was that because you were planning to propose?"

He beamed at her, running his fingertips over her left hand. "Of course. I hadn't meant to let something like that slip out, but I was sort of hoping to call you Doctor Reid." A notion he hadn't considered before suddenly occurred to him, and he backpedaled quickly. "But, I mean, if you don't want to change your name, that's completely fine. I'll understand." Perhaps it had been rude to assume she would automatically take his name.

"Spencer, are you kidding? I've been dreaming of getting rid of my last name for ages. A surname is supposed to show what family you belong to. As fond as I am of the alliteration, I haven't felt like a part of the Brown family for a very long time. I want to belong in your family, permanently."

She had always belonged there, but he was more than happy to make it official. "So we'll be Doctor and Doctor Reid then." How wonderful it sounded to say that. They would share a name and a home and so many years, together.

The ground below faded until roads and houses were mere dots and lines through the window. They settled in for the long flight, and he started on his small pile of books to the pass the time. The third book was hers, the same one Garcia had given to him months earlier. He knew all the words by heart, but he still loved to read the words she'd used, run his finger over words she had penned in a city of canals and cobblestones. By the time he opened it, Bianca was leaning against him, engrossed in Nabokov's Pale Fire. One of the flight attendants paused as she made her way down the aisle, glancing at them wistfully, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"You and your girlfriend make quite a lovely couple," she said.

Reid tried hold back a grin. "Actually, she's my fiancée."

"Well then, congratulations."

It was so easy to introduce her as such, natural even. Now, he only needed to introduce her to the only other woman in his life who mattered quite that much.


Author's Note:

So so sorry that this chapter has taken so long to post! Nearly all my chapters are written months in advance, but I was so busy with work and life that I didn't have a chance to post it. So here it is! Thanks for being patient with me, my beloved readers.

I spent so much time trying to come up with the perfect proposal scene, without making it overly cheesy. But then I finished watching Season 9, and it just seemed absolutely right. With everything that they've been through, what are the odds they manage a picture-perfect proposal? It seemed far more likely for something to go terribly awry, after which Spencer would've decided that he just couldn't wait any longer to ask. Near-death experiences tend to do that to a person.

Thank you to LoverofAllThingsGeeky24, littlelightning, 24hourcrazygirl, miller330, GiraffePanda2, KLCM1, Synchronously Anonymous, KayJane16, SpencerReidIsMyLife, WinterValentine, clarinetgirl628, XxLellian Black-GryffindorXx, Alex C, woahtherePotter, midnightabyss23, just8boutany6, mlr96, Dark Angel 792, Nightwing's Gal, Nakomi, soul-reaver-queen, Marissa Angelique, Ch3rryies, XxPaperbackWriterxX, and PixieCharm for following/favoriting this story!

To ahowell1993 (I think those two are just naturally parental haha. And you were quite right in your prediction as well!), Sue1313 (thanks! It seemed natural for JJ, communications queen, to make the call), dianakotori (it's such a good episode! And thank you! Oh I'm so glad you liked the teakettle scene. It was so interesting to write, and I'm glad it communicated everything it needed to. It was very much a stream-of-consciousness moment for him) FreckledFreakGirl11 (haha I hope that's a good thing! Though I suppose if the story is able to bring out such strong emotions, then it is), hfcmfan2013 (writing the running scene was so much fun. Thank you so much - I feel so honored! I hope I'll continue to come up with chapters worth reading), Love-Fiction-2016 (thanks!), Guest (why thank you!), and SpencerReidIsMyLife (sorry it took so long!); thanks for leaving reviews and being so wonderful. I'm so very grateful for your feedback.

Angels and Demons, questions and answers. Onwards to Season 10 and Chapter 30! Also known as the chapter where the other thing ahowell1993 kept asking me about finally happens.