Alice POV (visions in italics)

I couldn't believe this.

"Oh, catch it!" Aro commanded as the wolf broke out of the shed and darted past Jasper's legs. Jasper obeyed instantly, sweeping the wolf up into his arms.

"I don't understand, Master."

"Just try it," Aro said impatiently.

Jasper looked down at the squirming animal in his arms, then back up at Aro doubtfully, but he did as he was told. He hunched over the wolf and brought its throat up to his teeth. The moment the blood touched his tongue he grimaced, but he kept going. The wolf's whimpers grew weaker and it finally hung limp in his hands. He drank and drank, looking the whole time like he was going to be sick. Finally he dropped the wolf and spewed out the last sip of blood onto the ground.

Aro clapped his hands in delight. "Marvelous! How was it?"

My fists clenched helplessly at my sides while I watched. Jasper was disgusted by the blood, naturally, and he had never looked more like a classic vampire: the cloak, the fine clothes, the blood-red eyes and the fresh blood smeared from his lips down to his collar. But his eyes grew wide when Aro proudly announced that this was the solution, that this would set Jasper free from the emotional pain he suffered when he fed on humans. Aro was taking credit for all of it—as if he hadn't been taught by Carlisle! As if he hadn't been minutes away from having Jasper executed a mere two hours ago.

I was the one who was supposed to set Jasper free. I was the one who was supposed to teach him about hunting animals, about letting humans live, about everything good that came with golden eyes. That look of grateful awe in his eyes just now was supposed to be for me! Not that lying, silky... I screamed between clenched teeth when I saw Jasper eagerly catching up to Aro to give him his hand. I wanted to throw up like a human every time Jasper bowed and scraped and called Aro Master. I hadn't worried and waited over twenty years for him to find his freedom just to see him do this.

I paced in a tight, angry circle in my little cabin, stabbing into the near future. Jasper had escaped execution—for now. I had seen him die at least three separate times already since he had arrived at his new home. I didn't know who had made the decision those first two times. The one with the white hair, Caius, seemed to really hate him, and the sad one—Marcus—never talked, so I didn't really know what he thought of Jasper yet. But earlier today, I had seen Jasper forced to his knees and beheaded with Aro standing right there, wearing that infuriating look of polite sadness. I wanted to tear his head off and burn it. And now he was playing the benevolent leader, eagerly accepting the credit for everything. Why was Jasper falling for this? Didn't that gift of his know better?

I took a deep, calming breath and searched out a little farther. Jasper's eyes would begin to change over the next couple of weeks. That meant he really was going to stop eating humans. Some twisty part of my stomach told me that I should be happy about this, at least. I didn't want Jasper to suffer pain from his gift anymore. All those times I had seen him double over in agony, in despair when he had fed in private... it had broken my heart to see the terror in his eyes this morning when Aro had forced him to try feeding in a group. But surely Aro had known how bad it was going to be! I had heard him describe his powerful gift to Jasper in the beginning. He already knew my Jasper better than I did, and that made me even angrier. Jasper was mine.

And now, to see him with half-golden eyes... to see him act calmer and stand straighter and walk around those musty stone halls like he was proud to be there... that was even worse. It was bad when he had been on the knife's edge at first, just as likely to be burned as to be accepted as a Guard, but somehow this felt even worse. To see him so content without me. It hurt.

I let the visions run their course a little longer. Jasper was always cooped up in his stone cage except for those brief moments he was allowed out to hunt, and even then he would be under guard. I saw him feeding, studying, spending time with his fellow Guards, working, fighting... I shied away from the fierceness of some of those fights. He was supposed to leave all that violence behind when he left Maria. He might not get executed anytime soon, but he was never safe. He came away from nearly every fight injured, and he looked so happy about it. He looked like he was having the time of his life in that stupid training room.

But then another possibility unfolded. Jasper looked happy in an entirely different way, one that was even worse. It was that Heidi woman. Jasper was alone in a different room with her. It had to be her quarters. He strode toward her with that handsome side-smile of his, and his hands started moving all over her. She pulled him closer, started tugging at his shirt collar. When their passionate kiss began and they stumbled toward the biggest bed I had ever seen in my life, I wrenched myself away from the vision like I had been burned.

.

.

.

"No... no!"

I moaned in despair when my eyes opened to reveal what I had just done. My fingers were clenched around the broken shoulders of a human. It was a young man in a camouflage jacket with a big splash of blood soaking the front of it. I licked my lips without even thinking about it, unable to stop the shiver of pleasure that coursed through me at the heavenly taste. Oh, what did it matter, anyway? He was already dead. Why did anything matter? I bent down for more, gulping the last dredges of hot blood, lapping up the little bit that had spilled down the side of his neck. He ran dry all too quickly. I shook the body in desperation, trying again to get another ounce of blood out of his ruined throat. I finally snapped out of it and lay my victim gently back down on the cold grass. I sat beside him in a tight ball, resting my chin on my drawn-up knees.

I didn't even remember how I had gotten here. I had burst out of the cabin when that horrid vision had struck, and I had run and run... I didn't know where I was. Not that it mattered. I didn't really have anything at the cabin worth going back to.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking with pity at the young man whose life I had just ended. Jasper might be doing his best to ruin both our futures, but that didn't give me the right to ruin someone else's. To end someone else... I hugged around my ribs as tight as I could, gasping deep breaths, wishing that Esme were here to comfort me. That Carlisle were here to forgive me. Emmett would tell me it was okay. Rosalie would help me clean up, help me clean myself up. Edward would help me focus my visions and go listen to people's minds to make sure we wouldn't need to move... but they were all so far away. I had to do everything myself, as usual. But I just didn't feel like it. I sat back down beside the body. Despite the thrill of new strength that always came when I messed up and drank human blood, my body felt heavy and disjointed. Was this what it felt like when humans were tired? I let myself roll over and lie down. I closed my eyes, desperate to see something besides the corpse beside me.

Jasper wasn't doing anything right now. He was just standing still in his quarters, deep in thought. I switched to Emmett and Rosalie, but quickly pulled away to give them their privacy. That was the last thing I wanted to watch right now. But Edward was at the piano, so I eagerly focused my attention there. I watched him for a while, listening to the soothing music he was trying to compose. I hummed along once the melody began to take shape, pretending I was perched on the back of the piano. He would scold me to get down and I would just stick my tongue out at him and we would laugh about it together. But his ideas about the melody kept changing, and that made the music stop and start constantly in my vision, even when he wasn't changing what his fingers did yet. The notes kept mashing together at the wrong times. I tried to stay with him, but the dissonance was too distracting. In the end, I was more agitated than before.

At least Carlisle and Esme would be there for me. They were always so calm, so kind... but this was not my day. They were actually arguing, something I rarely saw.

"I know that," Esme was saying. "But back then you didn't have a family. And bombs weren't falling back then, either. You were never in any danger before."

"Our whole world is in danger now. You know how strongly I feel about contributing when—"

"Contribute, then! We already gave the proceeds of the house to the Red Cross, and I'm sure we can do far more. What about all that artwork you have stashed away?"

"Esme," Carlisle said quietly. "This is important to me."

Esme crossed her arms tightly across her belly, looking back and forth around the room at nothing. "So you're doing this for yourself."

It took me a little to figure out what they were arguing about: Carlisle wanted to go down into mainland Europe and find a way to do his doctor work near where the fighting was, and Esme was not having it. I had no idea how old Carlisle was, but it sounded like he had done this before, in other wars. He was telling Esme how much it meant to him to heal lots of humans in times when so many were dying and suffering, how this was often the time when groundbreaking advancements were made in the field of medicine, how sometimes the most beautiful thing about the human spirit was found in the middle of war.

Esme said that if he was going, all of them were going, and Carlisle wasn't having that. Esme also seemed worried that Emmett and Rosalie—and maybe even Edward—might do something reckless if they were anywhere near the war, to which Carlisle insisted that the war was everywhere, to which Esme stubbornly pointed out that he could serve the war effort by replacing doctors who had gone to the front lines, but Carlisle was sure it would be easier to slip under the net identity-wise posing as a civilian doctor helping out in a field hospital, and that was really what he wanted to do anyway. Esme pointed out that real soldiers didn't get to pick where they served. It went on and on.

I hated it when they argued. It was so rare, and they were usually so gentle with each other. It was uncomfortable, even when the way they argued and hurt each other was gentle. But I couldn't stop listening; I needed to know if there was any chance they would be coming back to this continent.

There had been so many times I had wanted to go ahead to the Cullens. Again and again I had decided to do it—to go to them first and then meet Jasper when he was ready. But something always stopped me. Things would look different between Jasper and me in the Family Portrait. Sometimes he wouldn't be in it at all, and Diner Day would be gone. Sometimes I would see us arguing when his eyes were still red. Sometimes I couldn't put my finger on why it was wrong; it just felt wrong. And so every time I decided to let it go and trust my visions... to trust our destiny. Maybe going to the family first would make Jasper feel too intimidated to join us. Maybe he would do it but he would be unhappy. Maybe being with the family meant I would somehow miss my only chance to find him. Waiting was hard, but I wasn't willing to risk our future, or ruin it, just so I could have what I wanted in the present.

But now that future was lost, at least as far as I could see. It felt silly and even cruel to be angry at Jasper, when he couldn't possibly have known what he was giving up, but I was. I had been so lonely, and I had waited so long for him to come to his senses and leave that miserable war, and for what? For him to sign up for the vampire army and leave me here, waiting again? Waiting forever? What was I supposed to do now? For the first time in my life, I hadn't any kind of plan, and it was a frightening new place to be. I had always been able to trust our destiny. Even without ever knowing how many years it was going to take, I had always had that happy ending to hold onto—and it really was a happy beginning, so even the waiting was bearable. What was a decade or two of loneliness compared to an eternity of love and happiness? That future had always felt more real to me than the present anyway.

But now nothing felt real.

A dark thought had been pushing its way into my mind ever since Jasper had gone to Italy. What was real, anyway? My future with Jasper had been the most real thing in my whole life. And in the end, it had been so easily lost, as easily as if the wind had changed direction and it had dissolved in a moment's breeze. It had been that fragile, after all. What else wasn't real, or was no more real than that? How many of my visions weren't going to come true? Were never going to come true in the first place?

It wasn't that I doubted my gift. Little confirmations every day reminded me that I had this unusual power to see things. Thing as small as red tulips around the corner and as big as a second world war. The fact that those visions could change and even disappear didn't mean those futures were any less real, or hadn't been. But the big ones, the ones that had been dropped in my hands to show me my destiny—Jasper's face the minute I had woken up. Diner Day. The Family Portrait. I had never had any tangible confirmation that those things were real, and yet I always clung to them as if everything else was just a mist of lesser possibilities. What if those visions were lost now because they had never been real in the first place? They hadn't come like my smaller visions had come, based on decisions. Maybe they were so different because... I shook my head, unwilling to think it. But it came anyway: maybe I had needed them to be real. Needed something to believe in. Or maybe I was just crazy—I had woken up in a hospital gown, after all. For all I knew, I had lived in a mental asylum all my life. Maybe the fact that some of my visions came true wasn't enough to prove that I hadn't seen exactly what I had needed to see when I had woken up alone and afraid. Maybe I was just remembering a long chain of dreams I had had as a human. Maybe Jasper and my family were just characters in a lovely story I had been telling myself all this time, and the world really was just as cold and gray as it suddenly felt now. I didn't think I could face a world like that.

Carlisle and Esme's argument was winding down. They were full of murmured apologies now for some of the things they had said. They clung to each other and decided together that for now, they would do nothing. Then they stopped talking and just held each other. Esme's face was pressed into Carlisle's shoulder and Carlisle softly, tenderly laid a kiss on her hair...

I realized all at once that I was snuggled up to the corpse, pressing my face into its bloodied shoulder, hugging it tight around the chest. I scrambled away with a whimpering cry, swiping at the half-dried blood that stuck to my face like stubborn tears.

Esme, I thought desperately. You have to be real. I NEED you to be real.

And then I was running.

.

.

.

I had never bothered to try and figure out exactly where the Cullens' house was. I had never been planning to go to them anytime soon, and I was fairly sure they had sold it before they had headed to South America two years ago. I just knew that it was in Washington state and that they had driven east every time they went to Seattle.

I crossed into Washington in less than four hours. Anger coursed through me when I realized how close they had been—how easy it would have been to go before. If I had had just a little more courage, I could have trusted that I would still find a way to make everything right with Jasper anyway, even if it meant just visiting them once. Why hadn't I done it?

I found a little building that said "Welcome Center" and broke into it around midnight. A long rack full of little folded maps stood ready, but it was easy enough to memorize the big, detailed map on the wall above that. I remembered the word "Hoquiam" ... maybe that was where they had lived. But "Forks" and "La Push" sounded familiar too. Maybe the landmarks would be familiar enough that I would be able to find their house.

But after hours of wandering in the dark near Hoquiam, I hadn't found anything. A few things in town looked familiar, and the mountain peak in the distance seemed right, but that was it. Everything beyond the town looked the same: trees, trees, and more trees. I went up to Forks, but it was a dinky little town; it had been written on the big map with a black pen like an afterthought. Maybe it was new. I poked around the woods there for a while and then headed for La Push, which stood right on the edge by the ocean. Those houses looked completely unfamiliar. I was sure I hadn't seen the Cullens here at all. There was an odd smell at one end of the sleepy little town, one that made the hair rise up on the back of my neck.

I went all the way to the beach and sat down heavily on the sand, wrapping my arms around my knees. I thought I remembered seeing Emmett and Edward here once, but I was tired of hoping. None of it made sense anymore.

The waves lapped at my toes for a while. My fingers played idly with the sand, digging little trenches over and over. I watched as they filled back up and disappeared, and that made me angry, too. Losing my most important visions might have been bearable if something had at least taken their place. Wasn't the whole point of destiny to tell you what you were supposed to do, or at least what you were supposed to look forward to? I looked into my own future, and for once, I couldn't find anything. There were distant possibilities, too blurry to be of any use, but my gift had never felt so unimportant, so utterly useless. I couldn't even find myself in the near future. I didn't know what that meant either, and I didn't care anymore.

The sun was rising behind me now. Far down the length of the beach, I could see two young men doing something with a boat. I wrinkled my nose; that odd smell was here too. I hadn't noticed it before...

The wind changed, bringing me relief from the smell, if nothing else. But down the beach, the two men jumped to their feet suddenly. I supposed it was time for me to go, now that the town was waking up. I didn't feel up to playing human right now. I wasn't any good at it anyway, not like the Cullens.

"Hey!" one of the men shouted. They started running toward me, peeling off their shirts as they ran. I didn't remember seeing humans run that fast before. Then all at once both of them exploded and in their place were two enormous wolves, one black and one reddish-brown, snapping and snarling. Werewolves, I realized in the instant it took me to realize that they were coming for me!

I scrambled off the beach in a flash, and they followed me. The smell was everywhere now, and when I grabbed for my future to see which way to run, everything was gone. It was all pitch black without a sense of time; I had no future at all. That could only mean one thing, and I ran even faster when I realized, with a shocking blow, that this must be why my destiny had been fading away. I was going to die, right here. I had reached the end of all my visions. Whether or not Jasper and the Cullens had ever been real didn't matter anymore, because I was never going to be real to them. This was it. I could hear the wolves closing on me with every pounding footfall behind me; I was just too small to outrun them.

I thought about stopping. I had waited all my life for nothing, as it turned out. Why fight it? I glanced over my shoulder to see my fate, but the sharp teeth I saw pushed me to keep running. I had never felt pain before—and I wasn't even sure that vampires could feel pain—but something told me that this would be an exception.

One of the wolves was so close that I could see him out the corner of my eye. I gasped and veered left. Just a few more hundred feet—!

I lunged for the first tree I saw. In the split second before I could begin climbing, I screamed and kicked at a searing pain that tore down the back of my leg. I twisted around to find the big gray wolf struggling to get his teeth around my ankle, but the sharp teeth squealed and skidded across my skin after the first bite. The wolf let go with a yelp when I kicked its nose as hard as I could. I raced up as high as the spindly branches would support me, looking around wildly to find another tree to jump to. I had picked one that was too far from the others. Both wolves were circling the base of my tree now. They let out a horrible sound that hurt my ears, and to my horror, I heard a third howl answering from the trees ahead. More pounding footsteps were coming, padded ones that matched the sound of when these wolves had been chasing me.

The other two began tearing at the bark of my tree, ripping huge chunks out with their gleaming teeth. They were trying to fell the tree like a man with an ax. I didn't know much about werewolves, but some deep part of me felt surprised that they were smart enough to do that—at least in the few stories I had read, werewolves were like rabid animals when they weren't in their human form. But these wolves knew exactly what they were doing.

When the third wolf ran up, it took a running leap up into my tree. It didn't aim very high, but the tree shook and creaked as its body hit. The new wolf backed up and lunged at the tree again, taking the blow on its shoulder. The tree trembled again and again. The other two wolves were chewing their way through on opposite sides now, creating a pivot point.

"Stop!" I screamed at them, latching on again as the tree swung dangerously to one side. I heard a cracking sound. "I was just trying to leave! I don't know if you can understand anything, but I'm not your enemy! My name is Alice Cullen and I promise I'll just leave!"

I don't know why I said it. I had played with my name for years, drawing it in curly loops in the sand and the dirt and on fogged-up windows. I would have used Jasper's last name, but I had never heard him speak it. Was Alice really my name after all, I wondered angrily as I shouted my name for the first time ever. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud once before I died. To make myself a little more real.

But to my surprise, the wolves instantly stopped what they were doing. They all looked at one another, then back up at me, then at one another again. I took my chance to jump toward the nearest bunch of trees, pushing off so hard that the tree finally gave away and tumbled down behind me just as I jumped up into the branches ahead. The wolves snarled and began the chase again, but there was no way I was going to come back down to the ground now. I jumped from branch to branch, careful to map my path ahead so I wouldn't run out of trees. It felt strangely exhilarating to do this without my visions, not knowing if I would misstep and die any second. I slowed down, keeping to the tallest trees within reach. I didn't think they could climb...

Then all at once, like they had hit a glass wall, the wolves stopped running. I snapped around to look, just in time to see one of the wolves inch a step forward, but the biggest wolf turned and snarled, and the smaller wolf froze where it was.

I didn't stop to find out what had happened. I kept jumping my way through the thickest parts of the forest. My path took me southeast, right past Hoquiam. I turned due east then—if I could get to Seattle, surely I would be safe. My future began to fizzle back into existence and I moaned a sigh of relief.

And then I saw it.

I slipped down through the branches and landed in a defensive crouch, looking and listening behind, but there was no sign of the wolves. My visions felt right again; I was still alive as far as I could stretch to see. But more importantly, right in front of me stood the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in person: a broken-down timber cottage, so crumbled down to nothing I had almost missed it. But I knew this place. This was Rosalie and Emmett's honeymoon cottage.

They had already been married for the better part of a year when the Cullens had moved here, but their lovemaking had still been... destructively enthusiastic. And they had wanted a lot of time to themselves, so they had gladly set up house in this little haven while the others, with no small amount of relief, had moved into the main house. I zipped right past the cottage, careful to note my path so I wouldn't lose it again. I found the main house soon enough, though I had to stay hidden in the trees; there were humans living here now. My throat burned as I watched the lady and her two little children make their way out to the blue car that sat in the driveway. But a dizzying happiness chased away the thirst because as the lady stepped off the porch, I realized I was seeing the porch that Edward and Carlisle had built. I could tell, even from here, that the wood was newer than the rest of the house. The porch wrapped around the side of the house, expanding into the deck that Esme had worked on, day after day, while the others went to work and school.

It was real! They were real! A funny little sound burst out of me, that human sound that was half-laugh, half-cry. The lady and her children turned around, suddenly nervous, to see what the sound was, but I was already running back toward the cottage. I found traces of the old path that Rosalie and Emmett had walked hundreds of times, and I sailed along it, feeling like my feet were barely touching the ground. They were real!

I inspected the dilapidated cottage at every angle, warmed by memory after memory. Edward and Emmett working on the shutters, Esme planting little secrets that would bloom for the newlyweds in the coming months, Emmett and Rosalie painting the walls and the paint fight–turned–honeymoon that had followed. I had always thought it so funny that Emmett couldn't quite stand up straight in his own bedroom. Not that it mattered for long; uninhibited in their privacy, the poor cottage hadn't stood a chance. I laughed out loud when I remembered their shocked laughter the first time they had smashed a hole in the wall separating their bedroom from the tiny living room. The scandalized look on Edward's face the first time he had come to "visit." The look on Esme's face when they sheepishly announced they would have to move back into the main house... Oh, it was all real!

I picked through the wreckage, eager to find some tangible memory. Anything would do. I just needed something to hold in my hands... I anxiously looked ahead and saw myself unearthing a little box. Of course!

I darted around the cottage to the little garden and attacked the frozen dirt with gusto. A few inches down, I was rewarded by a familiar sight: the jewelry box that Rosalie and Emmett had buried here together on the day they had moved away. Rosalie had called it a time capsule, something for them to come and find someday so they could feel like time had passed. I gently brushed the grime away from the intricately embossed bronze, running my fingers through the swirls and designs in the cold metal, relishing in the realness of it. I carefully tested the lid, but she must have locked it.

"Sorry," I said absently, and I pried the lock apart. I was done following the rules.

Inside were all the keepsakes I remembered; not one of them was a stranger to me. A few of Emmett's favorite baseball cards. The glittering comb Rosalie had worn on their wedding day. A knotted bracelet Emmett had made, two matching theatre tickets, a photograph of the happy couple taken in the city one cloudy day. And a ring. I picked it up, letting the morning light catch the tiny rubies on either side of the diamond. This was the ring Edward had taken out of his stash and given to Emmett to propose to Rosalie with, since he couldn't be around humans yet. Rosalie had later gotten a new, much more fancy diamond ring that matched their wedding rings, but this one was still special. And in a way, it belonged to Edward as well as her and Emmett, so why shouldn't I have a share too?

I slipped the ring onto my finger, but of course it hung loose. I jammed it into my pocket, glad I had stolen some pants this time around. I rummaged through the rest of the memories in the jewelry box, ending with a delicately embroidered handkerchief. The letters RLH were spelled out in curling flower stems. Each letter ended in a tiny red rose. When I unfolded it, a sweet scent bloomed in the air: Rosalie, surely. I held the handkerchief close, memorizing the scent, and then I leaned down with my nose to the jewelry box, smiling when I smelled just a hint of someone else. Emmett! I hadn't ever smelled another vampire—at least that I knew of—but somehow I was sure that these two scents belonged to my brother and sister. They felt like home.

They were real.

And surely that meant Jasper was real.

I wasn't crazy. These people led real lives, and the things I had seen had really happened. The warm shock of my relief told me how seriously I had taken my fear, how close I had come to losing my faith... in what? Destiny? Maybe the people were real and the destiny wasn't. Or maybe this was just one stumbling step, and everything would be all right in the end. I closed my eyes and reached forward for Diner Day, just in case, but it was still gone.

I gently placed everything but the ring back into the jewelry box and buried it again. I spent the morning there, still poking through the wreckage. I found no more hints that they had lived here other than the faded color of the paint that still clung to some parts of the decaying wallboard.

The sky grew darker, even though it was midday. My happy mood faded with the light. My new reassurance did nothing to solve my problems. Everyone I loved was so far away, on the other side of the world, and I didn't know the first thing about really traveling or about playing human to that degree. The dreary weather felt right, at least; the Cullens always lived in wet, cloudy places so they could be human more of the time. When the rain began to fall softly, I turned up my face and relished the feel of the warm raindrops washing down my face. I hadn't bathed in weeks. I hadn't even thought of it since Jasper had gotten to Italy and I had been so afraid for his life. My visions centered on him without my even thinking about it.

He was bathing, too, washing his face and hands out of the basin in his room. He was already clean except for the little bit of blood he had gotten on himself and his shirt drinking from the wolf. His hair tumbled down from its ponytail and he ran his dripping hands through it over and over. He stripped off the ruined shirt and checked in the mirror, making sure all the blood was cleaned off before getting a new one.

I watched him for a while. For once, I was too relieved to be angry. I just ached for him—for him to be so real I could reach out and touch the scarred skin of his back. I closed my eyes, imagining myself laying my fingers in the big gashes that sliced all the way down to his hip. In my imagination he would see me in the mirror—or maybe he would have felt my touch—and he would turn around, smiling down at me in pleasant surprise. He would pick me up and spin slowly around in a dance, twirling with me in the dark back room of his quarters. And then he would stop and lower me slowly to settle in his arms, tight against his chest. He would kiss me, and I would reach up and tangle my fingers in his golden hair, and everything would finally be right in the world.

I concentrated as hard as I could, willing it to be a vision and not just pretend. But it wasn't real. I opened my eyes and found myself still sitting in the wreckage of the cottage, still soaked with the falling rain, still alone.