It Could Be Worse 3rd Season Chapter 7: Vows, a protector of the small quartet fanfic

It Could Be Worse (3rd Season)

Episode 7: Vows

By Sulia Serafine

[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…)! E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.

Rating of this episode: Let's say… PG-13? *shrug* Just recently, I heard someone got flagged because they had the words "nude body" and a reader considered those words "R" rating. Is that really? Because Heaven knows I've got worse stuff than that as lower ratings. *shrugging again* Maybe I'm brainwashed to have too high a tolerance. I'm sure if I did get flagged (not that I will…), all you wonderful people would gang up on the offender and defend me. *blows kiss* Muah.

Lalasa sat at her table—her brand new table. Upon returning from their honeymoon, Roald and Lalasa had moved into their new apartment. It was a nice place, which fortunately happened to be a five-minute's drive to their employer's house. Perhaps that had been the reason for the discount on the originally expensive price tag on their home.

She loved it anyway. It was not so spacious, but it was practically new. It felt like being on a clean, comfy piece of furniture all the time, no matter where you were in the apartment. Everything was new, but not so new that the sheets were still stiff from lack of use… or the towels still rough, having not been through wash cycle enough times.

The living room pleased her the most. A soft, pale green loveseat faced the kitchen while the sofa faced the holoscreen. The matching recliner was situated next to a small table with a lamp and a COMscreen on it. She could spend hours sitting in that chair, chatting on the phone with whomever she wanted. Friends, family…

Well, maybe not family.

Friends? Of course, she could always—

Lalasa looked up from her place at the table and glanced at the COMscreen in the living room. Joren and Neal had left for the Yamanis days ago. She'd found out after talking to Cleon yesterday. That wasn't too bad. She never went out of her way to chat with Neal. And she didn't bother Joren unless she saw him with Kel.

Kel, she thought. Cleon had also told her that Keladry had left to see her family. Then the redheaded proceeded to tell her that Keladry, Faleron, and he would be leaving Tusaine that very day on a business trip for Daine. Lalasa couldn't believe her luck (more correctly, her lack of luck).

Roald walked out of the master bedroom, fixing a deep red tie around his neck. His blue trousers were freshly ironed and his pinstriped shirt was buttoned up, the cufflinks even in place. Lalasa cast a speculative eye on her husband. "And where are you going? I thought we still had the day off."

He approached her, flashing a charming smile, and planted a kiss on her forehead. "A councilman from Tortall is going to arrive before lunch. I'm his guide for the duration of his stay."

"Oh? Promoted from chauffeur, then?"

He shrugged. "Apparently." He noted her frown. "Why are you complaining? I'm going to get a raise and you will get your shopping spree."

Was she that predictable? Lalasa stood up and began adjusting his necktie for him. She scattered small butterfly kisses on his face and neck as she did so. The sound of his chuckles in her ear tempted her to nip at his own ear.

"Hey! Hey, don't start that now, or I might have to call in sick." He scolded her, winking in a most promising way.

She backed off, satisfied with the effects her teasing had. She tapped the table again, recalling what she had been doing previously. "I've been trying to write up a list of people to have over. You know, for the housewarming party… also known as your birthday party."

"I told you I didn't want a birthday party. It'll be a very early birthday party, anyhow. The actual date is a month after the party date."

Lalasa sighed. "Well, either way, it's not going to be much of a party. All our friends are in or are about to be in the Eastern Yamanis. The only people left to invite are their friends, the other officers that we don't know so well."

"What about the people at the office?"

She snorted. "You know you can't stand them. They're all so boring and they hate our enthusiasm and energy." The Carthaki woman paused. "I think it's because we're too used to all the fun and energy we see in our DJPF friends. They're always on the go and energetic. It rubs off on us and that sort of thing isn't too useful in a boring office."

Roald went to the coat closet for his blazer and jacket. "Don't worry about it. Just invite everyone that's home. It's not going to be the same without Kel and the others, but we'll just make do."

It wouldn't "make do", but neither of them wanted to say it. Like Faleron, they had been mostly content to sit on the sidelines and to watch their friends go about, vanquishing evildoers. But sometimes, Lalasa and Roald had to admit that they yearned for the old days. At least Faleron tagged along with Cleon wherever the redhead went. At least he could still pretend that they were on the run from the law, wrongfully accused fugitives making a trek across the nation.

"I think I've been bored for the last few months. Truly bored," Roald murmured. When he received a flash of annoyance from his wife's eyes, he quickly corrected himself. "Besides the wedding and everything, of course. What I mean to say is…"

She sighed. "Who in their right mind would actually miss the thought of people chasing them down and shooting them? Yes, I know what you mean. We must be insane for missing that."

He glanced at his watch. "I'd better go." He shrugged on his jacket and quickly kissed her. "We'll have lunch and, uh, make plans for something exciting."

She glared at him. "We just came back from our honeymoon. Wasn't that exciting enough for you?"

"Of course it was!" Roald blushed. He sputtered for the words. "I thought what you just said right now was… er, that is…"

The thing that she loved more than anything else was her husband's ability to reduce himself to a nervous little schoolboy, so eager to please, but not so quick to annoy. She cooed at him apologetically. "Go on, poor little boy. Go to work and I'll see you later."

He childishly stuck out his tongue at her and headed for the door. He would only let her get away with such humiliating things. Was that what it was, then? The reason he married her? Roald closed the door behind him and smiled to himself, remembering their lengthy vacation directly after the wedding. The happiness, the sunshine, the long hot nights…

Married life has done this body *good*…

Before too long, traffic had started to delay the progression of commuters around the city. Apparently, construction was underway for street maintenance and road widening in several key areas around the city. Construction workers in orange vests redirected traffic while Third Class DJPF officers stood off to the side to make sure the public cooperated without any 'road-rage' outbursts.

Roald leaned his elbow out the window, chin resting on top of his forearm. He considered himself an infinitely patient man, but what were the chances that the arriving councilman was just as patient? At least he had left very early from home. He would be able to arrive just as the plane landed.

Calm as could be, Roald reached for the radio and turned up the volume. He leaned back and relaxed as the familiar melody washed over him. Strange how certain words and tones bring back everything that man has thought he's lost. Memories of "the good old days" resurfaced in Roald's mind, a home video of times he'd cherished.

Closing time

Open all the doors

And let you out into the world

Closing time

Turn all of the lights off

Over every boy and every girl

How many hotels had they slept in? How many times had they had to forge fake identification files? Roald couldn't even remember how long Joren had commanded all the men not to shave for the sake of covering their faces. It was hardly noticed nor mentioned, but he and the other males had become accustomed to looking like those old decrepit fishermen—the kind he always noticed sitting by a wharf, scratching their scraggly beards.

Whenever he had been forced to stand before a motel's employee or manager, he'd always had the secret desire to swagger and spit. Lalasa and Keladry shared no camaraderie of having to disguise themselves (any comment Cleon could have made about their facial hair would most likely have warranted trouble). The two young women had merely entered their room and slammed the door in utter exhaustion.

If it weren't for Faleron and Lalasa's secret bank accounts and connections, then they wouldn't even have had any money to pay for those slammed doors. The DJPF had frozen everyone else's accounts.

Closing time

One last call for alcohol

So finish your whisky or beer

Closing time

You don't have to go home

But you can't stay here

Roald had been over at Faleron's apartment during one of the shorter man's unusually cheery days. It was the night before his bachelor's party. Faleron's humble domicile had been chosen as the site of the "hot chicks" movie-marathon (selection made 100% by Nealan Queenscove). The male Riders tagged along with Neal and Cleon since Roald had no one else to invite.

Surprisingly, it had been Dom and Joren who had actually showed up an hour later bringing whisky and beer. Joren denied any wish to be there at all. Yet he had been the one to drink the rest of them under the table, Roald excluded.

It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase "last man standing".

I know who I want to take me home

Take me home….

Yes, Roald and Joren had dragged all of them home… with a short pit stop where Prosper and Lerant vomited over the second story rail of the elevated breezeway. Stefan had cursed a blue streak when he stepped out the next morning.

Closing time

Time for you to go out

To the places you will be from

Closing time

This room won't be open

'til your brothers or your sisters come

So gather up your jackets

And move it to the exits

I hope you have found a friend

Closing time

Every new beginning comes

From some other beginning's end

Yeah

Roald would always remember the first time he had met Lalasa. Cleon had told him that at first sight, Lalasa had thought Roald was a dead body in the trunk of Joren and Keladry's car. Obviously, that was not the case. He regained consciousness and came face to face with several strangers.

His new best friends.

Lalasa had taken a liking to him right away. He'd noticed it. And he'd also noticed himself take an immediate shine to her as well. She was cute and spunky. Attending boarding school and taking up residence with different politicians had not left time for flirting with the female kind. He had been so utterly shy that before he could have any light conversation with Lalasa, he'd concentrated on begging Joren to be allowed to travel with them.

I know who I want to take me home

Take me home…

(Flashback with continued repetition of song's chorus)

"Wait! Please, take me with you," Roald begged. "I can't be caught by them. I can't stand it here! I'll go crazy if I stay!"

"Let's have him come with us," Lalasa nodded. Roald was very attractive, and he had that fresh innocent face that was very rare in people his age. "We can't just leave him here, Stone."

Joren didn't reply at first. Then he started toward the restroom. "Whatever. We leave within the next ten minutes. Buy your food and get in the car."

Roald grinned. "Thanks a lot."

"Oh, it's nothing," Lalasa replied, taking his arm. "Now, you just sit yourself in the back with the rest of the guys and rest. The vice President's handsome, noble son running away. Hmm… And now joining us on our quest to find the truth about the government. I bet you could help us."

Roald blushed.

(End flashback)

…Closing time

Every new beginning comes

From some other beginning's end…

Lalasa finished calling the last person on her list. She had also taken care to invite Daine and Numair. Numair… the man never went a month without finding an excuse to visit. Why didn't he give in and request a transfer? Weren't his frequent visits more than enough to insinuate any relationship? At that point, moving to town shouldn't have any effect.

Besides them, the Riders' Own were invited. Lalasa found that she rather liked Yuki's company. The demolition expert had a very gung-ho approach to everything that reminded Lalasa of her own boldness. Lalasa was also sure that she would have Fianola's friendship, too, if the younger girl would only come home to Tusaine more often. Half of the Riders were still out of town on their own agenda.

The Carthaki woman resigned herself to be content watching the cooking channel on the Holoscreen. Darn technology made the food look so real that she became desperately hungry just looking at it. She took note of where to access the recipes on the Internet and changed channels. If she watched any more, Lalasa was sure that she would never be able to get through it without giving in to the temptation of stuffing food in her mouth.

Instead, her mind turned to a less pleasant topic. Something had recently been plaguing her mind since she and Roald had returned from their honeymoon. She'd had her suspicions, but could she really trust her intuition?

No, she thought. It can't be. Her uncertainty got the better of her. Before she knew what she was doing, she turned on the COMscreen. While she was dialing the number, she attempted to calculate the amount of time she would have before Roald called in to check on her.

Not enough time.

The week passed with little surprise. The housewarming party was relaxing, if anything. Soft piano music played in the background while guests stood around, sipping drinks and tasting finger foods. They held conversations with each other while complimenting the new residence of Mr. and Mrs. Roald Jasson.

Dom found it peculiarly hard to enjoy himself. He had looked forward to some social interaction. A man could suffer the antics of his coworkers only for so long before he became bored or, worse, annoyed beyond belief. Upon entering the apartment, he swept Lalasa into a hearty hug. He also handed Roald the small housewarming gift, a coupon book for take-out and delivery book. He hadn't thought it was too tacky. Dom had reasoned to himself that he'd given the couple a very nice blender at their wedding. There wasn't any need for him to be too generous.

His fellow Riders mingled with other minor DJPF that had met Lalasa and Roald's acquaintance. The rest of the party members consisted of Federal employees that Daine mingled with. Perhaps the party had also been an elaborate plan for the councilwoman and her two favorite employees to get to know "higher-ups".

He was even surprised to see Kalasin. The spy appeared reserved, dressed in a black blouse and black slacks. Her hair was drawn back from her face in an elegant upsweep the curved into a strategically sloppy bun. It was the most elegant Dom had ever seen her and told her so, having missed seeing her at Roald's wedding.

"What? Can't I look nice for my brother's party?"

Was it him or was the soda becoming flat? "Oh, of course. I was simply under the impression that you preferred more practical appearances."

"I do, but this is for Roald. My baby brother deserves a sister that at least looks partially female."

"Sorry." He coughed nervously. "I was also under the impression that the two of you weren't that close… considering that you only met him this last summer."

Kalasin narrowed her eyes. The expression reminded him of a cat stalking her prey. "You were under no impression, Mr. Masbolle. You snooped around in that little computer of yours."

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "It's my job."

She gave him a scathing look. "That it is."

As if it were enough reason to maim me…Dom frowned. He'd been at the party for an hour and this was the most interesting thing to happen to him—getting glared at by the redhead's Ice Queen of a girlfriend. "Hmm. Are we actually having a semi-civil conversation here? Clarify for me."

"It depends on what you call civil," she replied, deliberately slow and insulting, as if talking to a child.

The Rider was pleased with himself anyway. She hadn't threatened to injure him yet. That was much farther than many men had gotten with her. Of course, he had no reason to care. It wouldn't mitigate his bachelor status by putting the moves of every woman whose boyfriend was absent. He simply wasn't that kind of man. He let his eyes rove over her body when she wasn't looking. Though I'm very tempted…

He set down his cup on the table in front of them. In the meantime, they had taken seats on the couch, relaxing their feet. Dom rubbed his hands together and offered a placating smile to Kalasin.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Why not? You'd probably find out the answer on your own sooner or later."

He recognized the insult, but decided it was in his best interests (his health, primarily) to let it slide. His fingers restlessly smoothed down the thighs of his trousers. "I always wondered…" he began hesitantly. How should he phrase it? "I always wondered why you liked Cleon. How do you two hit it off so well when you're so different?"

"I had no idea by personal you meant that. I was expecting 'is that your real hair color' or something similar along those lines," she admitted. Kalasin made a move to straighten her back, though her posture was already perfect. "All right. You really want to know?"

Did he?

"Yes, of course I do. Cleon is a good friend of mine."

Her expression communicated insult, for which he immediately winced and leaned away. "Cleon is a good man. He brings a lot of hope to me. Not many people do that so freely anymore."

"I don't understand," he shook his head. "Hope? Hope for what?"

She lifted her shoulders once again the universal shrug. "Hope for many things. He leads me to believe that what we're working toward… peace and order… isn't just a dream. His happiness and his optimism give me reason to trust that one day things will be close to paradise."

As Kalasin spoke, Dom attempted to recall himself feeling that optimistic. To his dismay, he did not find a single time in his life when he had been. There had always been the nagging doubt that the work he did, his civilian services to the country, would not amount to anything at all. The law was broken every day. Evildoers escaped justice every single day. The Riders' Own couldn't stop them all.

Cleon did live like there was always hope. He was the embodiment of all those wishful things. Dom was actually quite jealous. The only way he could ever be as happy was if he took medical supplements meant for depression patients.

"So. That's why you like him," he murmured, taking a long sip of his drink.

She nodded and took a small sip from her own cup. "Yes. That… and he's really an animal under the covers."

Dom promptly spat out his drink in a long arc through the air, the liquid eventually landing all over Numair and Daine. The room became silent. Dom wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, wide-eyed like a fish as he tried to remind himself to breathe.

Lalasa approached. She had a false grin on her face, her eye twitching.

Keladry opened her eyes slowly. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. The sun wasn't even up at this hour. She sat up and got out of the bed. Cleon, Faleron, and she were staying at a mountainside inn. Many of the windows had been boarded up because of frequent snowstorms that had been roaming the area.

She worried about Joren, Neal, and the others out in that harsh weather. Several times, she had tried to contact them. Each day that passed was like an icy dagger driven through her heart by Mother Nature herself, the cruel mistress that She was. Keladry found it hard to endure, but she forced herself to, for her friends' sake.

Since Daine was sponsoring the entire trip, Keladry even had more resources to pool from than Joren and Neal. Yet they had been unwilling to find any professional mountain climbers willing to assist them. In the end, they had to hire natives from the villages and trading posts that they arrived at to help them. The natives only took them as far as the next location. They'd had to hire new people every place they went.

Faleron had been able to persuade one man at the very inn that they were staying at to guide them up the mountain pass to the trading post. Keladry had been hoping for more porters. Otherwise, she and Cleon would have to carry the brunt of the load.

Keladry had a slight headache, she realized as she stumbled around the tiny room. Their guide had warned them that higher altitude might have an effect on their body's usual threshold for outside pressure. She massaged her temples and wondered if chewing gum would help, as it did on airplanes.

It was all she could do to keep her mind of the more obvious pain.

There was a knocking sound at her door. She reached for her parka and put it on. Then the female DJPF officer slipped her feet into a pair of shoes and went to open the door. Her eyebrows arched in mild surprise, arousing her from her sleepiness. "Cleon? Something wrong?"

The sharpshooter reluctantly stepped inside, bowing his head to avoid hitting the rafters. His hand clumsily reached out to close the door behind him. The expression on his face was beyond crestfallen.

"Cleon?"

"I got a page just now."

Whoever could have paged him at this time? Keladry wondered. She then remembered that it wasn't nearly an ungodly hour at night than it was on the other side of the world. If it were anyone paging from Mithros, it would be just at ten or eleven o'clock. Perhaps Daine had meant to check on them. She was the one paying, after all.

Keladry nodded for him to continue. It had to be important in order for him to get out of bed two hours before dawn. He must have been freezing. Still, he had rushed to her room wearing a few hastily thrown on sweaters over his pajamas. Though the inn they stayed at was heated, it was not nearly enough for them to walk around in only a layer or two of clothing.

"Just tell me who paged you," Keladry urged. She could tell he was nervous by the way he shifted from foot to foot.

He rubbed the back of his neck. His green eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Cleon walked over to her nightstand and lit a small stubby white candle. He cupped his hands gently around the flame for warmth. "Um, I got a page from Neal."

Her heart skipped a beat. She put a hand on his trembling shoulder. Excitement took over her. She couldn't even see through the smoky haze it created and grinned from ear to ear. Cleon remained reserved in expression.

"Really? Cleon, do you know what that means?"

"I know what it would first imply."

She shook her head. "What are you talking about? Come on, tell me what Neal and Joren said."

"They didn't say anything, Keladry. That's the problem," he whispered. "I got what was supposed to be some message, except it was garbled like the source suffered a shock during transmission." He showed her his pager, tapping the tiny screen. "I checked the number. It was Neal. But that's it. We don't know what he wanted to say. We don't know where they are. We don't even know how they're doing."

Keladry lowered her head so that her chin nearly touched her chest. Sensing her grip tighten on his shoulder, Cleon slowly put his arms around her and lightly squeezed.

"It doesn't mean anything. Dude, I bet they're taking the time to snowboard on some fresh powder on those huge mountains. Knowing Neal, I wouldn't put it past him for thinking of it." He rested his chin softly on top of her head. "It doesn't mean anything."

She let out a shuddering breath. "That's what scares me."

Cleon let go and held her away at arms length. The twinkle in his eye let her know that he had faith… faith in something that she couldn't conceive of understanding.

"Kel, I'll make the same promise to you that I did to Kally and Fal." He smiled broadly. "Everything will turn out the way it's supposed to. Even if it hurts now, it won't always be that way and you won't always feel like boulders are weighing your shoulders down. I promise."

It was a simple thing. Just a series of words that weren't solid objects. It wasn't a contract, or a car deal. It wasn't even something that she could see or imagine in her mind's eye. They were just words, yet Keladry believed every single one.

"Why are you such a good friend?" she asked, slightly mollified from any outbursts she could have had.

He laughed. "I don't know. I especially don't know why that is with you. Sometimes I feel like we were really close in some other universe, you know? And sometimes I feel like I never knew Kally or Fal at all." His hands dropped to his side. "I don't know anything. This is just what I am and that's what you just are."

Another knocking sound interrupted the quietness. The door creaked open to reveal Faleron, jackets and blankets thrown over his body. It made him appear like a beggar wanting spare change. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What's going on? I woke up and the other bed was empty. I was afraid you two had left me behind to do your own search."

"Now why would we do that, dude?"

"I don't know. So I wouldn't slow you down, I suppose."

"Well, we're here and we're not leaving until it's light," Keladry assured. "We just got a page from Neal and Joren. At least we have something to go on."

They didn't say much after that. Faleron climbed into Keladry's bed, kicking off his shoes. He muttered grumpily and fell back to sleep. His companions smiled at him, sat down on the bed, and also settled in for a nice long nap. For a few minutes, the remained awake. Each was thinking of a person out of their grasp. It would have been good to feel those people's comfort. But in the end, they, too, succumbed to the cold sleep. They couldn't do anything else.

Lalasa had given Dom an earful, feeling absolutely humiliated by the incident and wanting Dom to feel the same way. She would have thrown him out if Kalasin hadn't come forward about causing Dom to spit out his drink. Even Numair let it go easily—mostly because Daine had offered to escort him to his hotel for a shirt change.

The party was over now and she was wiping down tables and counters. Roald was taking out the trash to the dumpster out back. Alone at last, she thought. This was the night that she had planned to tell him and she needed all the time that she could get to prepare herself. There was no reason to be nervous. Roald loved her and she loved him.

She was washing her hands when came in. Lalasa quickly turned off the faucet and reached for a dishtowel. While rigorously drying her hands, she approached him and flashed a brief smile. "Can I talk to you for a second, babe?"

Roald appeared confused. "Um, sure. What's up?"

The dishtowel was dropped on the floor and forgotten. She advanced closer to him. Lalasa gently pushed him until he ran into the armchair. The touch behind his knees caused him to fall backward and sit down. She seated herself calmly on his lap. Her hands automatically began smoothing back his silky black hair.

"Sweetheart?" he said questioningly. His sapphire eyes were tinged with worry.

She continued to smile at him. Her apprehension was so obvious that he was not just, but scared for her.

"Roald, remember at the beginning of the week when you started escorting the Councilman around town?"

A cold feeling manifested at the bottom of his belly. What was she talking about? Was his wife—his dearest treasure—in trouble?

"Yes, I remember," he answered, low in voice.

"Well, I went to the doctor that day."

He breathed in sharply. "Are you okay? What did the doctor say? Lalasa?"

She put a finger to his lips. "I honestly don't know how I knew. I just had a feeling and I checked it out. Roald, sweetie, I'm pregnant."

He emitted an instant cry both of relief and of joy. Before she knew what was happening, her husband rained down dozens of kisses upon her tanned face. He was laughing in delight, yelling "Wonderful! That's wonderful!" as he lifted her up in his arms.

They began a hysterical dance around their living room. Their spirits were light and airy, unable to be brought down by any sort of trouble. Roald tripped over his own feet, laughing even harder as his wife now led them in their private waltz. Warmth pervaded their bodies. It was a familiar sensation, the same that had filled them the day of their wedding.

So Roald and Lalasa had made vows to each other, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as they both would live. The same vow that Cleon had made to his friends… the same vow that Keladry had made to Joren…

…And the same vow that Joren had yet to learn the meaning of, though he ardently whispered it in his fevered dreams.

Author's note:

Yay! Another episode up and done. Hopefully, I'll get a lot done this summer, even if it means shorter chapters. All my original plans for every episode plot will continue to be fulfilled. It's just a matter of condensing so that the quality is at its purest.

I know, I know. Everyone's itching to see Joren again. Well, guess what! It's a Neal-Joren-Imrah episode coming up to you next! What, do you think I would have really done something bad to them? Scared you with that pager thing, didn't I?

Comments, etc. welcome. The email address is at top. Thanks for reading!

P.S.

The song from Roald's reminiscing is Semisonic's Closing Time. I would have liked to vote this for my graduation song, but it mentioned whisky and beer. The school didn't like it. Oh well. I'm sure they'll play Greenday's Time of Your Life, instead. Not that I mind. It's a wonderful song from a wonderful band, but it's been overdone for graduation ceremonies in my area…