BabyKatFelton: We found out Kate was a Gemini in one of the earlier eps when she was sorting clothes with Claire, and Claire asked her if she was a Gemini (and Kate said yes.)

MistyX: Of course I don't mind your long reviews, you crazy girl! Those are the best ever..thanks so much for even taking the time to do that! (And I'm sorry I made you lose sleep...)

Glad people don't hate Aunt Meg too much, because there's more of her here:P Thanks for reviewing!


Chapter Twenty-Two

When Sawyer entered the kitchen, he found his aunt going through the cabinets, examining their contents. She seemed to be making some kind of inventory, muttering to herself. Kate stood to the side, looking anxious and uncertain. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly as he came through the door, but just at that moment, Meg turned around and announced in a loud voice, "Well, nice to see there's some food in the damn place for once." She looked at Kate. "This your doing?"

She opened her mouth, not sure what to answer, but Sawyer came to her rescue.

"Yeah," he said shortly as he set the puppy down. "She makes out the lists."

Meg turned to him. "Did I ask you?"

Then, noticing the wet spot, she cackled in glee. "You got dog piss on your shirt, James."

"Thanks," he said, annoyed.

Grateful for a distraction, Kate moved over to the sink. She wet a sponge under the faucet and then wrung it out. Sawyer peeled off his soiled t-shirt and moved toward her, while in the same motion she dabbed the sponge on his midsection, wiping away the stickiness that had seeped through the fabric. They did all this naturally, without any words, as fluidly as if it had been rehearsed.

Noticing that Meg was watching them with interest, Kate grew embarrassed. She sat the sponge on the sink and took the t-shirt from him. "I'll go get you another shirt." Avoiding the other woman's eyes, she left the kitchen.

Meg looked at Sawyer wryly. "Helpful for a fugitive, isn't she?"

"You're makin' her nervous," he said accusingly, but in a low voice so Kate wouldn't hear.

"Honey, I imagine she's got a lot more than me to be nervous about. I would too if I were her. You have any idea how much the reward is for turnin' her in? And here you two are, wanderin' around the yard in the middle of the damn day without a care in the world."

"We were lookin' for the dog," he said defensively. "She almost never goes outside in the daytime...I know how dangerous it is!"

"Well, good," Meg responded. "Glad to see you haven't turned into a complete idiot. Although with your hair like that, it's hard to tell. Come on over here and let's get that finished so I don't have to look at it anymore." She moved briskly to the table.

He stayed where he was, reluctant.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the chair. And, for the second time that day, he found himself obeying that command in spite of himself. He sank into the seat, irritated, and yanked the towel around his neck just as Kate came back into the room.

"Oh..." she said hesitantly, to Meg. "I can do that."

"Don't worry about it," Meg said, lifting the scissors. "I got it from here."

"Okay," Kate said in a meek voice, handing him a shirt. "He doesn't want very much cut off, though."

Sawyer shot her a betrayed look. She raised her shoulders slightly, as if to say, What am I supposed to do?

"So," Meg asked conversationally as she began to snip. "You two screwin' yet?"

"Christ, Aunt Meg!" Sawyer said.

"I'll take that as a yes," she answered calmly.

Kate looked down at the floor as she felt a blush creep up her neck.

"Don't take it personally, Freckles," Sawyer said in a tone that was both angry and apologetic. "She's this rude to everyone."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Meg went on. "Might as well enjoy it while you're young, after all. You know, when your uncle and I first got together, we were like rabbits in heat...Some days we never even got out of bed."

Sawyer groaned in agony. He looked like he was going to be sick. Kate noticed the gleam of enjoyment in Meg's eyes. She was clearly doing this to him on purpose.

"Of course," she continued, "now that I'm a widow, I've got to make do on my own. But like I always said, there's nothing that a man can do that a couple of double A batteries can't. Isn't that right?" she asked, looking up at Kate.

"Um..." Kate said, feeling herself blush even hotter. She tried to think of a way to change the subject. "I...I'm sorry about your husband."

"What about him?"

"You said...you were a widow."

"Oh. That." Meg didn't seem very interested. "Brain tumor got him. Funny thing is, I always thought it would be the liquor that would finish him off."

"I always thought it'd be you," Sawyer muttered.

Meg bopped him on the head with the handle of the scissors. "Watch it, boy," she said warningly.

"James here was fond of his uncle," she explained to Kate. "Hell of a lot fonder of him than he had any right to be."

"Was that the uncle you told Jack about? When you were having headaches?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said.

"Who's Jack?" Meg asked nosily.

Kate and Sawyer looked at each other. Sawyer was silent, waiting for her to explain.

"He was...on the plane with us. And the island," Kate said haltingly. "He was a doctor."

"Musta been nice to have a doctor along," Meg said, casting a knowing glance at Kate.

"Yeah," Kate said in a quiet voice, still looking at Sawyer. "We were lucky."

Sawyer rolled his eyes slightly. "Don't know if 'lucky's' the word I'd use."

Kate seemed offended. "How can you even say that, Sawyer? You know how much he did for everybody...how hard he worked. If it hadn't been for him, you might have bled to death."

They stared at each other intensely, warily, completely forgetting Aunt Meg's presence until she broke in with a loudly voiced, "What the hell does she call you that for?"

They both looked up at her, confused.

"Sawyer," Meg repeated contemptuously. "Where's that come from?"

"It's a nickname," he said quickly, shooting a meaningful glance at Kate. She took it to mean that Meg didn't know the identity of the man responsible for his parents' deaths, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"It's a damn stupid one," Meg replied sharply. "You're gonna give yourself a nickname, you might as well come up with something worth the trouble. Like your cousin Steve...in high school, he started having people call him Scar. You remember that?"

"Steve was a jackass," Sawyer said contemptuously.

"Maybe so," Meg agreed, "But Scar's still a better nickname than Sawyer. You know what a sawyer is? It's someone who saws logs. That's what you want to be known as?"

He sighed wearily. Kate tried not to smile. She was actually starting to like Aunt Meg a little, although she still didn't know if she could trust her.

"What's wrong with your real name?" she went on. "James is a perfectly good one...No need to change it. You know how hard your mom had to fight for that name? Your dad wanted to call you Raymond, after his buddy who died in 'Nam."

"You never told me that," Sawyer said slowly, looking up at her with curiosity.

"You never asked," she said, angling his head back down. "Hold still." She took a few more snips, then resumed her story.

"Your dad just wouldn't give up on the idea...Soon as he found out she was pregnant, he told her if it was a boy, he already had a name picked out. So, she gave in...told him whatever he wanted was fine. For nine months, she pretended that she was carryin' around a little Raymond. Then, after you were born, she waited till he went down to the hospital lounge to watch a ballgame, then she called the nurse in and had 'em bring up the birth certificate. She filled it out all by herself, and by the time your dad figured out what she'd done, it was too late. You were officially a James."

Kate watched Sawyer's face as Meg told this story. He looked amused and yet somehow needy at the same time, as if he was desperate for any scrap of history he could get, no matter how trivial. Kate marveled at how Meg could talk about his parents so casually, as if they were just down the road and not dead in some grotesque tragedy. Maybe that was her appeal to Sawyer, she realized. Probably nobody else had ever talked about them like this, with such unconcerned openness. He certainly didn't seem disturbed, as he would have if she'd brought up his parents. Instead, he looked thankful.

Looking up, he caught Kate's gaze almost shyly. She felt a wave of affection for him wash over her, and she smiled at him a little. She was almost insanely grateful to his aunt for giving him that moment.

"Seems like we're all done here," Meg announced, whipping the towel from around his neck and dusting him off with it. "What do you think, girl?"

"Looks good to me," Kate agreed timidly.

"Well," she said with an air of finality, glancing at the clock. "I think I'll go try to catch my soap, if you don't mind. Haven't seen it in three weeks, but I'm willin' to bet the whores are still whores and the villains are still villains. If I fall asleep, don't bother me. Got that?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said, clearly hoping she would fall asleep.

Without another word, Meg turned on her heel and headed toward the living room. Standing up, Sawyer gestured for Kate to follow him into the pantry where there was less chance of them being overheard. He could tell she was still worried.

"You all right?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Yeah," she said, softly. "I think so. I mean, you trust her, right?"

"I know she comes across like a lunatic, but she's really not...She just likes to mess with me," he said bitterly. "But yeah, I trust her. She won't say anything about you bein' here. Besides, I think she kinda likes you."

Kate laughed quietly. "She has a funny way of showing it." She paused. "But then again, so do you."

He smiled at her sadly, hating that darting, uneasy look in her eyes. No matter how much he reassured her about his aunt, he knew he couldn't completely convince her. It was just another potential worry that she had to add to her list, something that would always be there, lurking in the background. It killed him that he could never truly make her feel safe.

"C'mere," he said, pulling her into his arms. She leaned against him, and he could feel the tension in her body. Making a mental note to give her a massage later, he made do for now with rubbing slow circles on her back. Bending down a little, he blew gently on her neck, enjoying, as always, the way it made her raise her shoulder in defense and break out in goosebumps. He leaned back against the washing machine, still holding her. It was funny how the presence of another person in the house served to bring them closer together, almost as if they were two misbehaving kids surprised by the early arrival of a parent.

"Sorry about the haircut thing," she whispered with a smile.

"Yeah, you picked a hell of day for that, didn't you?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed.

"She did a good job, though," Kate said, pulling back to look at him. She ran her hands through his hair, experimentally. "Much better than me."

Instead of answering, he kissed her. She melted into it, closing her eyes, but then Sawyer pulled back abruptly and stared at the door. Turning, Kate saw Meg standing there with a sardonic expression.

"Hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but your dog's humping the sofa cushions. He allowed to do that?"

Kate looked at Sawyer, at a loss.

"I'll get him," he said, sounding tired. Brushing past his aunt, he went toward the living room.

Meg continued to stand there, regarding Kate with interest. She looked like she couldn't quite make up her mind about her. Kate looked down, rigid and uncomfortable.

Finally, Meg gave her what seemed to be a genuine smile. "At ease, soldier," she said in a low, ironic voice. "I'll be outta here by tomorrow. In the meantime, why don't you fix yourself somethin' to eat? You're thin as a damn rail."

Kate looked up at her, strangely relieved. She nodded. "Okay." She had to fight the urge to say Yes, ma'am.

Meg nodded back, as if the two of them were sharing a secret, then she turned and left the room again.


It turned out that Meg did fall asleep, waking up only at dinner time to force Kate out of the kitchen and take over the cooking. Then, after she'd eaten, she returned to the living room with the warning that she was retiring for the night and wasn't to be disturbed, and immediately fell asleep again. Sawyer explained that since she was a truck driver, she sometimes stayed awake for two or three days at a stretch. The weird thing was, he hardly ever lived at this house, yet every time he stayed here, Meg somehow sensed it and showed up for a visit. Her timing was almost eerie. Kate privately thought that that wasn't the only eerie thing about Aunt Meg, but she kept it to herself.

They stayed upstairs all evening since the living room was off limits, and Sawyer gave her the massage he'd reminded himself to give her. Oddly enough, though, it didn't lead to sex like it always had before. After he was done, Kate rolled over onto her back and they looked at each other a little awkwardly. She could tell that the presence of his aunt right downstairs was having a dampening effect on his libido, and that he felt a little guilty about it.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "I'm exhausted. You mind if we just go to sleep?"

Relieved, he agreed with her. "Fine with me."

Sawyer dropped off almost immediately, but Kate had lied. She wasn't really exhausted. Thanks to Sawyer's skillful hands, her body was relaxed now, sunk deep into the mattress. But there was nothing he could do about her thoughts, and those were what kept her awake at night. Especially when there was a new source of anxiety, such as what had happened this morning. It only served to make her replay all the other close calls and reevaluate her situation and the perils she still had to face. Most of the time, she could find some way to avoid thinking about the future, but late at night, it crept up on her, and she wasn't always able to fight it off. If Sawyer was awake, it might help, but she would never dream of waking him up just for comfort.

Suddenly, she heard a faint rattling noise, sounding like it came from the direction of the kitchen. She raised her head up slightly, listening. She tried to remember if she'd filled Gus's water bowl before she'd come upstairs. What if he was thirsty and the bowl was empty?

Getting out of bed, she tiptoed lightly down the stairs and entered the kitchen, stopping abruptly in surprise. It wasn't the dog, after all. It was Aunt Meg, brewing coffee...at 1:30 in the morning.

"Oh," Kate faltered. "I'm sorry...I didn't... I mean, I thought I heard..."

Meg looked at her, amused.

Finally, Kate stopped trying to explain. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Coffee's all I need. Figured I'd brew a pot and then push on outta here, get a head start on the Memphis delivery."

"In the middle of the night?"

"I'm not big on goodbyes," Meg answered.

Kate smiled a little. "Me neither."

Meg looked at her closely. "Have a seat," she said, more in the tone of an order than an invitation.

Kate pulled out a chair, almost grateful for the distraction.

"How long have you been staying here?" Meg asked.

Kate thought for a second. "You know, I'm not really sure," she said slowly. "About a month, I guess?" She went on, almost to herself. "I can't believe it's been that long."

"You two were together on that island?"

"We were both there, but no...we weren't together. Actually, we didn't even get along very well. We still don't," she admitted quietly, almost laughing.

Meg nodded. "Well, sometimes, that's how the best love stories go. It's the ones that are all perfect and sickening and lovey-dovey that you got to worry about. It won't last. Take me and my husband for instance. We fought every damn day of our lives. The day we met, I tried to run him over with my old man's Chevy. When I couldn't do it, he proposed."

"How romantic," Kate said.

"Yeah, well...romance is overrated. You care if I smoke in here?"

Kate shook her head.

She withdrew a cigarette from the pack she'd taken out of her pocket and lit it expertly, bringing it to her lips in the same motion.

"Anyway," she went on, sitting down. "He was my best friend. Wouldn't have traded him in for nothin' in the world. Sometimes I wanted to kill him, though." She took a deep drag and then blew the smoke out slowly. "The Ford men..." she said thoughtfully, "are complicated creatures. I imagine you've already figured that out though, haven't you?" She looked at Kate shrewdly.

"Yeah," she answered truthfully. There was no denying it. Complicated might even have been an understatement.

"When they hate, they hate so strongly that it consumes 'em like hellfire. When they're sad, they think the whole world oughtta come to a halt and cry for 'em. And when they fall in love," Meg added, "they fall so hard that they don't even notice when they've hit the ground." She looked pointedly at Kate.

Kate met her eyes, and then glanced away. "I'll try to remember that."

"Take Billy, for example." She paused. "James's dad," she explained, since Kate registered no recognition of the name. "When he fell in love with Laura, it was like there was nothing else on the planet but the two of 'em. He would have done just about anything for her...and the sad thing was, everybody knew she didn't really deserve it. Not that there was anything wrong with her," Meg said quickly. "She was just as sweet as they come. But she never cared about him the way he cared about her. And everybody knew it but him. That was why it was such a shock to him when she did what she did. If he'd had any clue...if he'd seen it comin', maybe he wouldn't have gone off the deep end the way he did. But he was completely in the dark."

Meg stopped for a second, lost in memory.

"Most people thought it was the loss of the money that made him do it...the fact that they were cleaned out, didn't have anything left to start over with. But I knew better. It was the thought of her with another man that made him do it...that made him kill her and then turn the gun on himself. He didn't give a damn about the money," she finished almost bitterly.

Kate took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say.

"I'd hate to see that kind of mistake repeated again," she said with emphasis. "If she'd cleared out early enough, before he got in over his head, then maybe that whole mess coulda been avoided. You understand what I'm saying, girl?"

"I think so," Kate whispered.

"You don't want to make the mistake of letting him get too dependent on you...too attached. Not unless you're in it for the long haul."

"I think you've got things backwards," Kate said hesitatingly. "I'm the one who's dependent on him, not the other way around."

"It might feel that way, but don't fool yourself," Meg advised sharply. "I've known James a lot longer than you have...I know him just about as well as anybody could, in fact... and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Could be, the damage has already been done. But if you're thinkin' about hittin' the road, I suggest you do it pretty damn quick. I'll even give you a ride, if you want one."

Kate seemed a little annoyed now. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, softly but firmly.

Meg examined her for a few seconds, smoking contemplatively. She seemed to come to a decision.

"All right, then," she nodded sharply. "Then tell him whatever the hell it is you're not telling him, and be done with it."

"What?" Kate asked, unnerved.

"You like being lied to?" Meg asked.

"No," Kate said defensively. "I'm not lying to him."

"Keeping secrets is just as bad. Might not seem like it when you're young, but it's one of those things you figure out the hard way as you get older. So take my advice and believe it now. It all amounts to the same thing in the end."

Kate stared at her, disturbed but also somehow unaccountably relieved. That was absurd, she knew, but it was almost like Meg was giving her permission to tell Sawyer about her past. She still knew it wasn't something she could do right away, but maybe the time would come...maybe it would even be sooner than she'd thought. She considered asking Meg how she knew she was keeping secrets, but decided against it. The woman was intimidating.

"Funny thing is," Meg went on, changing stride, "I never would have thought James would take after his dad. When he was little, he was a one-hundred percent Mama's boy. He was so attached to her, it was ridiculous. Never left her side. Bet you can't picture that, can you?"

Kate smiled slightly. "Actually, I can...in a way."

Meg nodded, looking pleasantly surprised. "Well, of course, that all changed in a heartbeat after everything happened. After that, he wasn't attached to much of anything. Barely even spoke for about a year. Did you know that?"

"No," Kate said quietly.

"One day...musta been eight, maybe nine months after the funeral...he was outside at our place, wanderin' around by himself...he avoided the other kids like the plague. We had this spring...crystal clear, about fifteen feet deep. You could see straight to the bottom of it. I was plantin' potatoes or somethin', and all of a sudden I see him climbin' around this brush pile on the bank next to the water. Sure enough, just as soon as I look up, he takes a wrong step and tumbles down into the spring. So I stand there, waitin' for him to pull himself out...because he was great swimmer...much better than all the other kids. Nothin' happens. Not a trace of him. So I run over there, and..."

Here Meg stopped, almost as if she was back in that moment, re-living it, still just as shocked as she'd been then. She went on in a soft, wondering tone of voice.

"And he's just...kind of, laying down there on the bottom. Like it's the most comfortable place in the world, and he's just decided to have himself a little nap. He was so... still.. he looked almost like a doll, except he had his eyes open. Creepiest damn thing I ever seen." She shuddered a little.

"But you know what the worst part was? The worst part...was that I thought..'All I have to do is turn and walk back up to the house. Nobody knows I'm down here...they'll just think he was alone and there wasn't anyone to pull him out.' Can you believe that?" she asked, looking at Kate. "It seemed like the simplest thing in the world. Just turn around, and let him do it. Let it all be over with."

Now she looked past Kate, staring into space, haunted.

Kate shivered, feeling unsettled. She wanted to scream at Meg, shake her, demand that she go back and get him, even though that was ridiculous. Sawyer was upstairs, sleeping soundly above their heads. He was fine, and this was something that had happened over twenty-five years ago. Still, the tale seemed to have a bizarre urgency to it.

"Well," Meg, finally said, shaking herself out of her reverie and sighing. "I guess you know what I finally decided. He's still here, isn't he? Not that I ever got a thank-you or anything like that. Matter of fact, I've never seen anyone so pissed at havin' his life saved. You'd have thought I was the one tryin' to drown him. I doubt he even remembers that day, but deep down, I don't think he's ever forgiven me for it." She smiled a little. "First thing I thought when I heard about that plane crash was, 'Well, I guess he finally got his wish.'" She looked at Kate curiously. "You think I'm some kind of monster?"

"No," Kate said thoughtfully. "No...I know what you mean." They shared a knowing glance.

"But I think..." Kate went on, "you'd be surprised. He's stronger than you give him credit for." She felt the overpowering urge to defend Sawyer somehow, even if Meg was right.

"I hope so," she said. She got up to pour a mug of coffee. It had finished brewing almost ten minutes ago, but she hadn't noticed. "You want some?"

"No thanks," Kate said. "I have enough trouble sleeping as it is."

"I would imagine so," Meg said evenly.

"Can I ask you something?" Kate ventured.

"I don't know, can you?"

She bit her lip a little awkwardly, then said, "If you know what I did...why they're looking for me...then why aren't you more concerned? Shouldn't you be more worried about me killing him instead of just breaking his heart?"

Meg laughed, clearly amused by this. "Well, to tell you the truth, I hope you don't do either one." She sat back down and sipped her coffee. "You believe you can tell what people are like by their faces...their eyes?"

"I don't know." Kate seemed to consider. "I guess not."

"Well, I do. Bad people have bad eyes and good people have good eyes...sounds childish and stupid, I know, but it's never proved me wrong yet. Second I saw you standin' out there in the yard, I knew you weren't bad deep down. Did you do what they say you did?"

Kate didn't know how to respond. "There were...circumstances...that nobody knows about." Her voice shook a little. "I know everybody says that, but..." She stopped, tormented.

Meg looked at her closely, but with sympathy now. She asked in a low voice, "Somebody hurt you pretty goddamn bad, didn't they?"

Kate looked at her, but there was no need to answer. They sat there silently for a minute.

After a bit, Meg spoke. "You know anything about caribou?"

Kate stared at her blankly. The question was so completely random and unrelated to anything that they'd been talking about that she couldn't even digest it.

"Reindeer..they're also called reindeer," Meg helped her along.

"I'm sorry?" she said, still bewildered. The thought crossed her mind that maybe Meg wasn't quite all there. She'd seemed normal up till now, but that was before the subject of caribou had come up.

"I know this guy, up in Canada. Yukon Territory. He's got this...preserve thing. Privately owned, but the government subsidizes it. Thousands of acres, out in the middle of nowhere."

Kate raised her eyebrows slightly, trying to feign polite interest. She still had no idea where this was headed.

"He's a crazy son-of-a-bitch, but he's a good guy. One of those hippie, tree-hugger, make-love-not-war types. You know the sort?"

"I think so," Kate said tentatively.

"Well?" she asked, clearly expecting some kind of answer.

Kate continued to stare at her, at a loss for words.

"It must have occurred to you that you can't stay here forever."

Now it began to faintly dawn on her what Meg was getting at. "We were...thinking about Mexico, maybe. Eventually."

"Mexico's one of the most crowded places in the world."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing? To blend in?"

Meg laughed. "I suppose it would be, except for one problem. You're not Mexican. And last time I checked, neither was James. You even speak Spanish?"

"No," Kate admitted, a little embarrassed. How had that thought never occurred to her before?

"I didn't think so. Besides, I don't think blending in would be your best option, anyway. You're too damn pretty for that...if you were ugly, you might stand a chance. But with a face like that, you'll be easy to remember. Your best bet is to get away from people altogether."

"That's what we're doing here."

"Sweetheart, Eastern Tennessee might feel like the middle of nowhere, but I guarantee you, it isn't. It's not good enough. And I'm willing to bet you know that deep down."

Kate sighed, looking at the table, but she didn't answer. It wasn't what she wanted to think of right now.

"Well," Meg said, sensing her mood. "Keep it in mind, anyway. James knows how to get ahold of me. Even if he hardly ever does," she added bitterly. "There may come a day when you'll need the details."

"Okay." Kate nodded gratefully, both at the offer and at the fact that Meg wasn't going to press the issue now.

She drained the last of her coffee and stood up. "Nothin' like that combination of caffeine and nicotine. I think I might just be ready to drive."

Kate stood up too. "I'll have to unlock the door. It's...tricky." She fetched the key from the peg and opened the kitchen door. As Meg stepped out onto the porch, she turned back to Kate, looking at her closely once more. "Keep your chin up, girl. It could be worse. You could have had me for an aunt."

Kate smiled. As Meg descended the steps, Kate called after her.

"Meg!"

She turned back around questioningly.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For pulling him out of the water," Kate said softly.

Meg smiled, a little sadly. "Well...At least somebody appreciates it." As she turned and walked off, she hollered back, "You two keep that damn dog inside!"

Kate closed the door, smiling, and re-locked it. She stood in the dimly lit kitchen for a second in thought, and then went back upstairs.

Climbing into bed, she kneeled over Sawyer and shook him slightly. "Wake up."

"What?" he muttered, sounding groggy and annoyed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "I just wanted you to wake up."

Leaning over him, she locked her arms around his neck and lay there beside him, holding him as tightly as she possibly could. She honestly didn't know, in that moment, whether she was clinging to him for his protection or for her own. But maybe, in the end, there wasn't that much difference between the two.