There were few places that were left alone throughout the raging war, from the face of the oldest archangels undying wrath on all those he perceived to be enemies; the barracks, training field, the Pavilion, to name a few of those places.
Another just so happened to be the Infirmary. The home of the third archangel, his true home nothing but a memory now, darkened and desolate, he kept himself in his Infirmary where he could tend to the ones who came to him with the care and kindness he was so well known for.
It took some time for the angels to notice, those that hid within their broken homes and demolished buildings, those who snuck around out of sight of the mighty Commander, that when an angel went into the Infirmary, they didn't come back out. There was fear at first, that the Healer had lost himself like the eldest had, and they avoided stepping foot in the Infirmary for some time, dealing with wounds and injuries on their own.
And slowly, those who needed tending to had begun to dwindle, much to the Healer's worry, and he'd stand outside his Infirmary to look around for those he knew needed help but didn't dare think to seek for it.
…
He was sitting at his desk writing in a pile of files, given to him by his older brother for review pertaining to his newest recruits that needed the Healer to sign off on their permission to begin their training, when they fell through the wooden doors of the Infirmary.
They were heavy doors, thick wooden monstrosities, and they were not easy to open.
Still, they crashed through, desperate to be within the one place they could be left untouched. Rumors had spread through them of the asylum that was offered within the Infirmary, even if the Healer wasn't quite aware of the fact that he was offering it when he took you in as his patient and kept you until you were well enough under his own standards.
The Infirmary had become a sanctuary for those afflicted by the war. For those under persecution, for those too young to defend themselves, for those who refused to fight against their morals and went AWOL.
He stood quickly, eyes wide in surprise, at the bodies that lay just within the entrance of his Infirmary. Beaten and bloody, covered in the evidence of torture, heaving for a breath against the cool stone. They wore the ragged tunics and trousers that all prisoners were given at the beginning of their stay within the dreaded looming structure. Stepping out from behind his desk, he raised his hand, staying his Virtues from drawing their weapons, and crossed the threshold to kneel before the two prisoners desperate enough to attempt an escape from Heaven's prison, and choose to come to his Infirmary above all other places, for protection.
Raphael watched them silently, looking from one to the other, taking in their ragged appearance. The one dripped water on his flooring, the other stained the stone with crimson paint, both tortured most horribly. He knew who they were, of course, they all knew who these two were. They had been given the task of guarding The Garden, one at the west gate and the other at the east, and how they had allowed the Serpent entrance. The council had decided their fate, a one sided vote, his oldest brother blaming them for the Morningstar's betrayal and their Father's disappearance, and he'd had thrown them away without hearing anything on the matter, locked them up and threw away the key, leaving them to their horrid fate.
"Gadreel, Abner, what brings you here?"
The one, painting his floor crimson, gave him a pained whine in response to his inquiry. But the other crawled forward, limping even still, and reached for his hand with red and brown hands. He allowed him to take hold of his hand, frowning at the shaking of the younger's hands as he clutched the Healer's hand to his chest, whether the quaking be from the cold he surely felt or the pain, he did not know.
The soaked prisoner, shivering from either shock or temperature, pressed his lips to the back of the Healer's hand. "P—Please t—ta—take u—us….Pl—Please….I b—beg y—you…..."
He nodded, without hesitation, and curled his fingers around the younger angels wrist. "I will take you, Gadreel. You are safe here." He reached out with his free hand to caress the prisoner's cheek. "Let me help you, now."
The archangel looked between the two of them with concern. "Can you stand?"
Gadreel nodded. "I can stand." He turned to gaze at his friend and cellmate. "Abner cannot."
He nodded, they would deal with that matter on its own, and he turned to gaze over his shoulder. "Oren, Zed, would you help him to a bed?" The two Virtues nodded, stepping forward to lift the limp prisoner between them, curling his sliced arms over their shoulders, their arms around his lower back, and helped carry him to the nearest empty bed. "Elijah, put a covering over the bed before they set him down, we are not soiling his blankets." The healer nodded at his command, running off to fetch a thick covering to set down over the blankets, so that his blood would not soil them.
Raphael turned his attention to the remaining prisoner, still clutching to his hand, trusting his healers to care for the other until he could tend to them himself. "Let's get you to your feet, then, careful now, not too fast lest you become dizzy." Gadreel curled his fingers around his hand, and he took that as his permission to pull him up, gliding with him in his time as he pushed himself up with his other hand, stumbling forward once he managed to get to his feet, just on the verge of falling back over, had the archangel not steadied him when he had.
The older angel gave him a look. "Stand, indeed." He turned, gesturing for him to follow with his free hand. "Let us get you into a bed as well." Gadreel nodded, stepping forward silently, leaning into the gentle touch when the Healer's free hand curled around his shoulder. Fingers dug in slightly. "You're absolutely soaked, Gadreel, were you under water?"
He frowned when the younger angel nodded, responding in a quiet tone. "They have a well. They tie my arms over a thick wooden pole. It's hard to breath."
The archangel looked at him in horror. "They drown you?"
He felt his heart grow heavy when the younger angel nodded in affirmation, and gave his shoulder another squeeze, this time in assurance. "You will never suffer that again. You are safe here. We will take care of you." The Healer gestured for the younger healer to lay their own covering over the bed next to Abner, and he guided him to sit on the edge for a moment. "We will get you into warmer, drier, clothing and then we will tend to your wounds."
Gadreel nodded silently, not accustomed to this kindness he has been shown, how little of it there had been. Raphael smiled at him, caressing his cheek again, rubbing his thumb over his cheek bone. "You are safe here, Gadreel, you and Abner both. We will get you fixed up." He leaned forward to press his lips to his glistening forehead. "You are loved here, little brother." And pulled back. "So dearly loved." Gadreel gave the barest of smiles, nodding to his words, and he smiled at him fondly.
Standing, Raphael turned to the healer who had laid the covering down, pulling her close for a moment with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Izeriel, will you go fetch a pair of clean tunics and trousers, a towel for drying, for our patient." She nodded silently, squeezing into his side for a brief moment, and stepped away to gather what she was sent for.
Nodding to Gadreel, gesturing to his friend, a silent promise of being right next to him, he turned to stand at the head of the bed they had set Abner down in. Stroking his fingers down the tortured Sentry's neck, he gained his attention, Abner looked up at him with terrified eyes. "You are safe here, little one. No harm shall befall you here. I will help you feel better again." Nodding to his front, he spoke just as gently as before, as to not startle the trembling angel under him, and he stroked his fingers back down his throat. "I'm going to remove your tunic, alright?"
Abner nodded silently, reaching up to grip at the front of the Healer's tunic as he bent forward, he whined softly as his tunic was lifted, pulled away from deep gashes carved into his chest. The Healer was as gentle as he could manage as he lifted the tunic up, guided the prisoners hands out from the sleeves, and lifted his back from the bed slightly to pull the ragged tunic free. He gestured for his Captain to assist with removing his trousers, as he lifted his waist from the bed, allowing Oren to shimmy the sticky trousers off.
"Elijah, pull the curtain around for privacy."
The healer aiding in their tending to the beaten prisoner nodded, placing the cloth barriers around the bed to conceal him with in, leaving the only open place behind the Healers back.
"And fetch a basin of warm water, some sponges with it, mix chamomile into the water. Bring a drying towel too."
Elijah stepped away to fetch the basin and sponges, and the Healer rubbed his fingers over the wounded angels forehead, taking his attention once more. "We're going to get you cleaned up so that we may treat your wounds, alright, the chamomile will help you relax and aid with the pain." He gestured forward. "You know Oren." The Virtues Captain waved, smiling in greeting, when he turned his wide eyes to look at him. "Him and Elijah are going to give you a sponge bath. It may sting a bit, most of these are still rather fresh, but it will help keep infection from setting in."
Abner nodded silently, closing his eyes when the Healer leaned forward, letting out a deep breath when he felt warm lips press to his temple. "You are safe here, little brother. You are loved in this place. We will take care of you now." He reached a shaking hand up to curl around the back of the Healer's neck, licking his lips, his voice came out as a faint whisper. "Thank you."
Raphael smiled, and kissed his temple once more, leaning over him to look into his eyes. "You are most welcome, Abe."
He nodded to Oren, and Elijah at his reappearance, to wash him gently and with care.
Stepping out from behind the blinds, he crossed back over to Gadreel's side, having been cleaned up himself, his wounds tended to by Izeriel, and helped into a dry tunic and a clean pair of trousers. The Sentry sat on the edge of his bed quietly, staring at something on the floor before him, or, perhaps, lost in dark thoughts. He curled a gentle hand around the back of his head, the younger looked up at the sensation of the gentle touch and met his eyes in silence.
"Gadreel, you've been so strong for such a long time, taking all this suffering and still managing to carry your beloved friend all this way." He stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose. "Let it go now, little brother, let it all flow freely." He smiled to him comfortingly. "There is no judgement for shedding tears."
"It is weakness. Vulnerability that will be used against you." He shook his head. "I can't."
Raphael shook his head. "It is strength. To show how you truly feel. To be yourself." He nodded in assurance. "You can. You should."
Gadreel stared at him for a long moment, and he stared right back, watching as those brilliant blue eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears. He pulled him forward, into his stomach, when the first sob broke free. He rubbed at the back of his head, at his shoulders, as he shook with the force of his sobs, held back for far too long, the result of so much pain and sorrow. Slowly, the younger angels arms lifted, his fingers curling into the back of his tunic, and he heaved a deep anguished sob. "That's it, 'Reel." He stroked through the hair on the back of his head, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. "That's it." His sobs slowly faded, after such a long span of time, and when he was sure the last of them had been cried, he curled his fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him back softly.
Rubbing the tear tracks away with gentle fingers stroking over his cheeks, he moved his hands to caress his cheeks tenderly, smiling down to him comfortingly. "Does that feel better, 'Reel?" The younger angel sniffled softly, nodding his head in silence, and lifted his arm to rub the back of his hand under his nose. Raphael stayed his hand gently, shaking his head, as he turned for the table next to him. He pressed a soft piece of cloth against his nose. "Blow." He wiped his nose clean when he could blow no more.
Guiding him back, around to lay under the warm blankets of the bed, he tucked them up under his chin.
"You rest now, alright?" He stroked his hair back from his eyes. "I am here if you need me. We all are. You are cared for here. We will take care of you now."
Gadreel nodded, his eyelids drooping, and curled down against his pillow. Comforted by the gentle feeling of fingers stroking through his hair, and by the warmth of the presence, staying by his side as he drifted off unto the grasp of sleep's hands.
Raphael smiled down at him, stroking his fingers down the side of his smooth face, and stood from the side of the bed.
Beside them, the blinds had been removed, a new pair of trousers slipped onto the other Sentry's waist, a tunic over his head, laying lightly over thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Oren sat in a chair at his bedside, holding one of his hands between both of his, stroking the fingers of his left hand over the back of Abner's hand, watching silently as his patient slept peacefully before him.
"How does he fair?"
His Captain looked up at his approach. "He is beaten badly. We put some salve on the fresh ones and bound them. There was a break to his leg, which is probably why he needed help moving, that we splinted and bound." Oren shook his head, looking back down to his younger brother's peaceful features, blissfully taken into sleep's comforting hands. "I'm surprised they managed to get all the way here."
"Indeed." Raphael nodded, looking between them both, and turned back to his Captain. "Stay with them for a while and then make your rounds between the beds." The younger healer nodded at the command. "And Oren?" he looked up at him. "If anyone comes asking about them, come get me immediately."
"Yes sir."
…
A knocking to his Infirmary door had him standing once more from his desk, looking in on the two Sentry's as he passed them, he crossed the threshold to answer the call at his door. He reaches for the blade he keeps hidden under his smock, and pulls the thick wooden door open, surprise blindsides him for a moment.
"Nisroc."
There stood the Captain of the Powers, and behind him, stood his men.
"Healer."
Nisroc bows his head in respect, greeting him softly, hope shining in his bright eyes.
"What can I do for you, Nisroc?"
The Power shuffles slightly, unlike his assured attitude he normally carried with him, and gestured to his men behind him. "We came to seek you out." Raphael tilted his head slightly in confusion. "We come in hopes that you would take us in."
He narrows his eyes slightly, as though unsure on whether or not it was a trick, that they were there in an attempt to retrieve Abner and Gadreel. "Why?"
It pained him to talked about it, but the Healer had to be sure, his priority was ensuring his patients safety.
Nisroc rubbed at his forehead lightly. "I love my Commander. I love him with all my heart." When he opened his eyes, he looked as tired as one could be, tired and broken. "But I cannot follow his orders any longer. They go against my heart. I cannot do it."
"What ails you?" Raphael looked between them all. "I can not take you into my care if you have no ailments. I am a Healer. Not a Guardian."
The Captain nodded, turning to gesture towards his men, pointed two out in particular. "Titus has an old shoulder wound. The tension will not leave him. He can barely move his arm without pain." And to the other. "Puriel has had a reoccurring headache for nearly a month." Nisroc turned to him, his eyes begging where his words could not. "We swear allegiance to you, sir. Please take us in?"
"They have ailments." He looked pointedly to the two behind him. "And the rest of you have broken hearts." The Healer nodded firmly. "I can fix you all."
Raphael stepped aside, opening the door wider, and nodded to them in a grant of entrance. "Come in." he nodded as they each thanked him for his mercy, ducking in passed him, and waited silently for instruction as he closed the great wooden door behind them. He strode through them, they parted for him with haste, and snatched both Puriel and Titus up by the wrist.
"Come." They followed after him dutifully, to a row of empty beds, and two waiting healers. There was unease at their appearance and the unease was a feeling they could not place blame on them for, it was meant to be after the things they had done under orders.
"Aban, mix together a mug of warm water and catnip." He turned to look at Puriel closely, and the medic averted his eyes. "And some sugar cane." He pat the medics cheek lightly. "Because I am so fond of you, little Puri." He turned to look at Titus a moment. "And a small dish of pineapple." The Power looked confused, and he squeezed his hand, sparing him a look. "Bromelain. It resides within pineapple. It will help with the soreness." He smiled fondly. "And it is a tasty treat."
The healer nodded, stepping off to fetch what he had been sent for, nodding to them as he passed to do as he was instructed. He stopped before the other healer, the Powers halting behind him silently, and she smiled to them in greeting.
Raphael smiled to her fondly. "Brakiel, could you fetch us a few pairs of clean tunics and trousers?"
She bowed her head slightly, stepping between Puriel and Abraxos, to go for what she was sent to gather.
He nodded, sitting the one on the bed on the right and the other on the bed to the left, and turned to face the rest. "Pick which bed you'd like." The Healer pointed to the two basins of water on the table just before the beds, and to some folded linen cloths. "There is some basins of warm water. Clean yourselves up a bit. Brakiel will return shortly with new clothes for you all." He looked back to them all, giving them each a look, one by one. "You will change and get some rest. You are not soldiers within these walls. You are our patients. You will rest and recover. We will care for you now."
Raphael looked down at the medic. "You will drink it all, little Puri, I know you well. Not a single drop left." And spared Titus the same. "The same for you, Tus. I want it all drank."
He nodded in assurance, stepped forward to leave them for the moment, and stopped at Nisroc's side for a brief moment. He rubbed at his shoulders lightly, massaging at a knot that had formed there, and smiled when the mighty Captain sighed in comfort and turned closer to him. "Relax, little Nis, you are safe here with me."
"You will send us back?"
The Healer hummed, shaking his head lightly, massaging at another knot he found. "Broken hearts can take extensive time to heal." He spared him a smile. "No. I think I will keep you all until there is not a single scar left. Relax, Nisroc, take a deep breath and calm yourself. You are under my care now. You are virtually untouchable." He stilled his fingers, noting the Power's soft noise of protest, and smiled again when it brushed passed his ears. "No soldier returns to battle without my clearance. I don't intend to give it for some time to come. You are safe here. Let yourself rest. Let yourself be cared for."
Raphael smiled in slight amusement, digging his fingers in again, and the Power gave a soft sigh at the feeling. "I have to check on a few others. But I will return. And we will rid you of all these tension knots that have formed."
The Captain smiled, looking down for a moment as his face heated slightly. "Thank you, sir."
"Always, little brother." He took a deep breath, and the Power looked back up at him, a small smile gracing his features. "And, don't call me 'sir', you may call me anything you like, but it will not be 'sir'."
"Yes, big brother." Nisroc gave a small smile in return. "Thank you."
The Healer smiled at him, patting his cheek lightly, and waved to the beds. "Of course. Go, get yourself cleaned up, Brakiel will be back in just a moment, get yourself changed and into bed. I will return shortly, and we will work on those knots that have formed."
True to his word, the Healer walked off to tend to other patients under his care, he helped one sit up to take a drink. Curled another blanket around the shivering form of another. Rebandaged some wounds. Did all the things that a healer did when it came to tending to their patients.
Brakiel returned a moment later, arms full of tunics and trousers, and stopped before each Power for them to take a set, smiling all the while. They changed slowly, shedding from their battle worn suits to their new clean clothes, and washed up in the basins silently, as to not disturb the sleeping patients around them.
After her, Aban returned with the two drinks he had been sent for, passing the one to Puriel and the other to Titus, before collecting their old clothes and disappearing with them.
As he drank, Brakiel rubbed at Titus's shoulder, easing the tension free gently. She giggled softly when the mighty Power groaned in comfort as the tension slowly dissolved. Helping him lay back when he finished his drink, placing an extra pillow under his shoulders, he smiled and thanked her quietly. Brakiel returned his smile and nodded silently. "If you need me, I'll be over there." She pointed to the small desk just a pace away from their beds.
Just as he said he would, the Healer returned some time later, checking on the two who had fallen asleep, Titus and Puriel stood no chance against his concoctions. Abraxos was close to dropping off with them, his eyes slowly closing, and he sat on the edge of his bed gently.
He brushed his fingers through his hair softly. "Go to sleep, Abe, you're in a safe place here. Close your eyes and rest." He stayed with him until his eyes did close, brushing his fingers through his hair, and his breathing evened out.
Then he returned to the Captain's side. Nisroc was laying on his stomach, his arms curled under his head, over the pillow, and he groaned lightly when the Healer sat next to him and dug the heels of his palms into the rough patch just under his shoulders. "We will start here."
It wasn't until the next morning that Michael stormed into his Infirmary, demanding that his Powers return to their positions and tasks, they looked up at him in alarm at his approach, but the Healer was quick in appearing before them, cutting off his stride to his legion.
They had sworn allegiance to him, and they were his patients, Raphael let no one touch his patients.
"Brother, what brings you here?"
Michael gestured to his Powers over his shoulder. "I am here for my legion. They are AWOL. They must return to their positions and orders immediately."
The younger archangel shook his head. "They will do no such thing."
"Who are you to tell me what I may or may not do with my Powers."
Raphael glared at him in rage and poked a harsh finger into his older brothers chest. "They are my patients. They will do no such thing. They will stay."
The older archangel fumed, looking at him incredulously. "Your patients! They are not wounded!"
"Who are you to tell me, the Healer, what another's ailment might be." Raphael poked him in the chest again, zapping him with his grace as his temper snapped violently, advancing a step, and in turn, forcing the elder to take one back. "If I say that they are wounded, then they are wounded." He forced the older archangel back another step, Michael may have been older, but not even he would try the third born son's shocking temper. Raphael was a danger to anyone when they incited his temper. Even him. "And you wouldn't dare take one of my patients from me."
Michael was fuming, he looked over the Healer's shoulder for one heated moment, and then turned his gaze back to the younger archangel. "Very well. As soon as they are cleared for battle you will return them to me." He nodded in turn when the younger archangel gave him a sharp nod of affirmation, turning on his heel to march out, Raphael watched him go silently. His temper was still rolling, anger still pulsating through his muscles, and gestured for his Virtues to close the doors once more as he himself turned on his heel to return to what he had been doing before being interrupted.
As he passed, the Powers each heard him mutter. 'That'll never happen.' And they exchanged glances. Relief pouring over them individually, the Healer was refusing to let them go, refusing to allow them to face their Commander's rage for leaving his side, disobeying orders, for going AWOL.
…
After the incident with between the two archangels, witnessing his Powers abandoning his side in such a way, and knowing what his brother was doing, Michael posted guards at the entrance of the Infirmary. They were to capture any who tried and get themselves within the walls, under the Healer's care, and take them immediately to the Prisons.
Raphael was not wrong, his patients were his to do what he wanted with alone, no one else had any say over them.
And he knew that.
So, if he wanted to play these games, then Michael would play his hand as well, they would see who would win this battle between them.
Raphael knew of course, about the guards posted outside his Infirmary, and though it hurt him to know that others would be punished for coming to seek aid, he still had patients he must care for within his Infirmary.
There was more then one entrance into the Infirmary.
Michael only knew of one.
But there was more then one entrance. There were a few built into the sides of the Infirmary, leading in from secret passages, and one in the back, within the cave that was the washroom, built into the rock wall behind the waterfall. It wasn't used, because of the ill placement on his part, as it led directly into the pool below.
He hadn't thought anyone knew of it, not until the choir elder turned up with two fledglings, one clutching at each hand, the three of them dripping water on the stone flooring beneath them.
Raphael dropped his writing quill at his sudden appearance, eyes wide in disbelief, others turned at their appearance from around the Infirmary.
"Jeremiah?"
The choir elder nodded, pushing the two little fledgings forward, and he looked down to them in surprise. "I come to ask if you would be willing to take our fledglings under your care?"
As he had with everyone who came to him with that request, and had no physical ailments, despite them being fledglings, he still asked. "What ails them?"
Jeremiah looked exponentially saddened as he answered. "Everything." He looked about ready to get to his knees. "I beg you, older brother, do not let them suffer for the crimes we have made." The only crime they had made was choosing to join Lucifer's choir, but the fledglings would be persecuted for a choice that had been made for them at creation, there was truly no crime that had been committed by any of them.
"Yes. Yes, I will take them." He stood from the chair he sat on, slowly coming out from behind the desk he sat at, reaching for the two little fledglings. Jeremiah urged them forward, and they stared at him for a moment, before jumping forward to clutch at the archangel's hands. The only archangel who hadn't betrayed them all. "Will you be staying with them?"
Both fledgling's eyes widened when he shook his head. "I must stay with my choir. I cannot abandon them. I needed to ensure our fledglings would be taken care of first." He stepped back a step. "There is a rumor that the Pantheon will be raided come twilight. I could not bear the thought of our fledglings being taken to the Prisons. But I must stay with my choir. They will need me."
"Miah no!", the little female fledgling reached out for him, but the archangel tightened his grip on her hand, to keep her from jumping forward. "Stay!"
Jeremiah looked as though he may cry, it was a heart wrenching moment, and he knelt slightly to address the two little fledgling. "Be good for me, Akeelah, Jezaniah."
"Miah! Stay!" Akeelah reached out for the choir elder, and he took her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Be brave for me, my little 'Keelah."
Raphael knew in that moment, Jeremiah was leaving his charge as well, he knew who it was too, from the way little Akeelah pulled against his grip, crying out for the choir elder to come back. To stay with them. Calling his name, yanking as much as she could on her arm, tears pouring from her little eyes as the choir elder disappeared into the shadows of where he had come and didn't return. She heaved a harsh sob, finally managing to tear her hand from his grip, and ran forward for her guardian.
He breathed a sigh of relief when Nisroc stepped out of the washroom, into which Jeremiah had disappeared, and managed to scoop up the fledgling before she could dart around him. She struggled, oh how she struggled, and fought against his hold, but he held her tight and close. Soon the fight left her small form, and she hung limply against his front, sobbing for her guardian to return, it broke all of their hearts.
The Healer bent to pick the other fledgling up. "Hello, little one." The little male fledgling smile up at him. "Hi. I'm Jezaniah, but you can call me Jeza, like 'Keelah does."
"I thank you, little Jeza, you can call me Rapha."
"Okay, Rapha." The little thing pointed to his friend. "Keelah's really sad now."
"Yes, she most certainly is, but will take care of her." He poked the fledgling in the belly. "Just like we'll take care of you." Jeza giggled when he poked him in the belly, and he smiled, poking him again.
The sobs slowly died down to whimpers, and soon those evened out, the fledgling hanging limply against the Power's shoulder as sleep finally took her into it's comforting hold. Nisroc rubbed at her back soothingly, crossing to stand at his side, Raphael looked around to see the fledglings red teary face, peaceful in slumber.
"I think we're going to take a nap together, big brother."
"Yes." The Healer nodded in agreement, motioning him in the direction of his bed, humming sadly at the glistening cheeks of the fledgling as he walked passed them. "You both could use a good nap."
Jezaniah watched the Power walk off with his sleeping friend, and turned to look up at the Healer, with wide curious eyes. "Are we gonna be safe now?"
"Yes. You're safe here."