(Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Remember, if you're reading, please review! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters.)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 24: Finding Out

The car slowing down was what brought Naruto back to the world of the awake. He'd fallen asleep sometime between eleven and midnight, and when he'd dozed off, the car had still been going like a bat out of hell.

Now, they were slowing down, stopping even, and then, they turned, and the blond lurched into the side of the car, narrowly avoiding a painful collision with the panelling. The tires crunched over gravel and then, the car stopped altogether.

The engine was cut, the car was put in park, and there was the sound of someone undoing their seatbelts quickly, and the metal part of the fastener clunked as it hit the inside of the car. The car door squealed open, then slammed shut again, and was quickly followed by the passenger door following suit.

Footsteps on the gravel now. Naruto closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. The door to his left opened and somebody prodded him. "Is he asleep?" the girl asked, the driver of the car.

Gaara didn't say anything, but probably shook his head, because the girl slapped him, and then, he opened his eyes. "Good morning Naruto," the blonde girl said.

He glared, as best he could, because his cheek was aching like there was no tomorrow, so it made squishing his face up a bit painful. "Where am I?" he growled.

"Just get out of the car," Gaara said, monotone and his face as blank as ever.

Rubbing his cheek, Naruto got up, glaring at Gaara, and then, at the girl. Finally, looking at the blonde, he said, "Who the hell are you?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. "I'm Temari, Gaara's older sister."

She tugged on his arm, dragging him toward a building, which he now noticed was a very shabby looking house. The front porch looked like it was about to cave under the weight of the snow on it, and the shutters on one of the windows was hanging on by a thread, crookedly. The driveway, beneath his feet, was cracked and there were even some potholes in it.

He didn't dare resist Temari's tug, because the ground was icy and if he happened to slip and fall, well, then he might be in for it. He threw a helpless look back to Gaara, who was following them, merely looking bored. The green-eyed boy pretended not to take notice of him.
Temari had dragged him up the lop-sided cement steps now, and they were standing under the creaky porch, in front of a worn wood door, with the stain peeling off of it. Naruto watched idly as Temari fished around for a key, then unlocked the door and dragged him inside.

The house was small, dark and it smelled funny, slightly musty, as though it hadn't had fresh air through it for ages and ages. The carpet was dark green, and old, and dirty, and the walls were a drab grey colour. He followed Temari's example, taking off his shoes at the front door and letting them get lost in a pile of footwear on one of the slush-stained mats near the door. He heard the door close behind him, and Gaara was right beside him, breathing down his neck.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he nearly shuddered, but stopped himself, as Temari forayed further into the strange house. Naruto wondered where he was. He knew that they had left Konoha, but outside Konoha, where was there to go?

He didn't know, so he kept walking, the rug almost hard and unforgiving under his bare feet. He followed Temari mindlessly, because he didn't know where he was going. Gaara was following him, making sure he didn't bolt, or run, or anything like that.

Temari turned into an open room on the left, leading them into the small, cramped kitchen. There was somebody sitting at the kitchen table, with the morning paper, and a cup of coffee. The headline of the paper read, "The Suna Herald". Naruto swallowed.

He was in Suna, which was a long way off from Konoha, even by car. He was scared suddenly. He was alone here, with these psychos, with none of his family or friends around to keep him safe, or save him.

What the hell did they want with him in Suna anyway?

They apparently weren't going to say too much, because Temari was yawning and stretching, and now, sitting down with the boy at the table, who was dressed all in black, and had his face painted in purple and white.

Temari rolled her eyes and said, "Kankuro, I really wish you'd take that make-up off."

"Pftt," the boy in black said. "I have a show today."

Naruto stared, confused. "He's in theatre," Gaara said finally, alleviating Naruto's bafflement.

It still didn't diminish Naruto's apprehensions about being here, however. He felt that for every second he spent standing there, he was closer to them turning on him and butchering him, like what happened in those cop dramas on T.V.

Everything stayed too sated for too long. It was too calm, with Temari and Kankuro just chattering away over the morning coffee, and he and Gaara just standing there, as though there was nothing wrong.

At last, there was a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, sure that the murdering was about to commence. When nothing more happened, he turned about, very slowly, just waiting to see Gaara standing there, with a knife in his hand.

The red-head did not have a knife in his hand, thankfully. Instead, he murmured, "This way," before starting off down the hall, leaving Naruto to decide whether to follow or not.

Throwing one last look at Temari and the other boy, he decided that he might be safer to follow Gaara, even if the boy had a temper and an icy demeanour even worse than Sasuke's. His feet made virtually no noise on the rug.

Gaara paused outside a closed door, which was wooden, and battered, probably as old as the house itself. "Be quiet," he said, then opened the door, which squealed on its hinges.

Naruto crept in after the red-head, who shut the door behind them. There was a moment or two where Naruto just stood there, trying to process what was going on.

"She wanted to see you," Gaara said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

Naruto frowned. He didn't know the person lying in the bed, because this was a bedroom, and he was certain that he hadn't known them before either. Was this some sort of joke? Was this some sort of aunt-twice removed or something?

He had no idea, but he'd never seen the person before in his life.

She was sick, that much was obvious, from her pale, drawn visage, to her straggling hair, to the frailty of the hands that rest lightly on the coverlet of the bed. Her face was sharp, her features made all the more prominent by how thin she was.

Naruto shook his head, and looked back at Gaara. "I don't know her," he practically growled.

Gaara looked at him in a way that said, 'You should.' Naruto had the urge to stick his tongue out at the red-head. He was being a prick.

"Well?" Naruto said, his voice getting louder. "Aren't you going to tell me who she is?"

Gaara held a finger to his lips, motioning for Naruto be quiet. The blond was damned if he'd listen to that jerk.

"Like hell I'm gonna shut up! Tell me who the hell she is, or take me home now!"

From the look on Gaara's face, he was half expecting the boy to maul him to death, but it didn't happen. Instead, the red-head sighed and opened the door. "Out," he said.
Naruto obeyed, stalking out ahead of Gaara, who followed him, glaring at the hot-tempered blond. "I told you to be quiet," he said, his voice as flat as ever, even though he was hot with anger.

Naruto had turned around to face him now, eyes narrowed into slits. "And I told you to tell me who she was, or take me home. So take me home!"

Gaara shook his head. "Have you no respect for the wishes of the dying?"

"No!" Naruto cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I don't want to be here, I don't know you people, I don't care! I just want to go home!"

A queer half-smirk came to Gaara's lips, but he said nothing more, breezing by the blond, leaving him to stew and sulk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Okay, thank you."

Iruka hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh. He'd called everyone that Sasuke could remember had been at th party, but none of them could recall seeing Naruto, after Sasuke had said they went upstairs.

Stupid teenagers and their stupid drinking.

Sasuke was sitting at the table, wringing a tissue through his hands, shredding it absentmindedly. Kakashi was sitting beside him, though he was looking at Iruka instead of Sasuke.

The black-haired creature looked like he was on the verge of tears again, and had been crying, off and on for the past half-hour or so. Iruka had loaned him his bathrobe, for now, and it was far too big on him. He looked too much like a scared child for Iruka's comfort.

He supposed he could sympathize with Sasuke. He too, had lost his parents when he was still young, and while he hadn't dealt with it the same way that Sasuke had, he still could feel the repercussion of that loss in his life to that very day.

Why else would he feel so sorry for the boy? He looked down at the phone book, not that he could see any of the numbers, but so he could give his eyes something else to do, other than look at the youngest Uchiha and water.

Part of him, was almost happy this had happened. Not that he wasn't worried sick about Naruto, but because it was, wasn't, exactly good for Sasuke, but the way he'd been dealing with the death of his parents for the last seven years was not one that was good for his mentality. Sasuke had never really let go, never broke down to anyone and just cried, but, instead, had kept everything he felt bottled up inside him. He had never really moved on from that loss.

Realizing he'd been standing and thinking too long, Iruka set down the phone and sat down with a sigh. "I've tried everybody. Nobody's seen him."

Sasuke gave a little strangled cry, and put his head down on the table, trying very hard to reign himself in. Iruka wanted to smack him and tell him to just go ahead and cry. It was better that he got this out now, than later, or never.

Kakashi rocked back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. "Do you think we should call the cops?"

Iruka sighed. It was the only thing left to do, really, because Naruto was missing. However, there still was one place they had yet to check. He looked at Sasuke, who had sat back up, biting his lip.

"Sasuke, why don't you go get dressed? We'll take you home. We have to pick up Konohamaru yet, and maybe Naruto's there."

Sasuke gave him a look that said, 'I doubt it', said, "I doubt it," but went anyways, padding uneasily from the kitchen, through the dining room and upstairs.

Poor thing probably had a splitting headache, and all he would bet that all that crying wasn't helping that one bit.

"Do you really think he'll be at the Uchihas'?" Kakashi asked, his voice half mocking, half serious.

Iruka kept his gaze on the table and shook his head. "I don't know where he could be. This is so messed up. Who would take Naruto? And why?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Maybe they were thugs who own a slave trading ring, and they're going to sell Naruto to some guy in a foreign country as a sex slave."

Iruka glared. "That makes me feel a lot better, Kakashi. Thanks," he spat sarcastically.

Kakashi held up his hands. "What? I was joking, Iruka! Joking! Nobody's going to sell Naruto as a sex slave!"

"They'd better not!" the brunet hollered, getting up and leaving the kitchen. "I'm going to. . .to. . ."

Iruka was up the stairs before he thought of an excuse for leaving the kitchen. Kakashi chuckled to himself, and rocked back more on the chair, only this time, he rocked back a little too far, and the chair tumbled over backwards, Kakashi going with it.
Pity no one was there to see that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Konohamaru sat on the floor, watching some cheesy Sunday morning rerun. He hated the show, but he didn't dare say anything, because the old lady, and the younger lady with red eyes scared him. A lot.

Also, as an added scare-factor, that creepy snake guy was prowling around upstairs somewhere, supposedly, according to the old lady, 'talking' to his babysitter. Konohamaru didn't know if the old lady's hearing was any good, but he'd heard a lot of things being thrown around and breaking.

He wasn't sure if that was 'talking'.

He was more than ecstatic when the doorbell rang, and when the red-eyed lady opened the door, there was Iruka, ready to take him home. He was glad, because he wasn't sure he could have taken another minute in this place.

He dashed out the door, with all his stuff, greeting Iruka happily, exclaiming about how happy he was to be going home, and so on and so forth.

Sasuke, still nursing a headache, skulked by him into the house, hoping to go in, go upstairs and get some sleep, without being apprehended by anyone or anything.

His luck was not so good.

Great-grandmother Uchiha was standing there, her hands on her hips, glaring at him. He could only imagine how much worse his headache was about to become.

"Where have you been all night, Sasuke?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and angry.

Sasuke mumbled a reply, which even he was unsure about after that. The old woman glared at him some more. He would have glared back but his headache told him not to make any facial expressions or strain his eyes any more than he had to.

So, instead he brushed by her, grumbling, "None of your business."

He stalked upstairs, his footsteps ringing in his ears and he wished he hadn't stomped on each footfall, because his head was throbbing by the time he got to the top. He slunk into his room, ready to lie down and just sleep off the rest of this horrible day.

No sooner had he shut his door and locked it, than there was a thump on the wall. He looked at the wall, slightly bemused, then heard the screaming that had momentarily taken a break just before he'd come in, start again.
He groaned and flopped down on his bed. Why was today so fucked up?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sakura could barely hear Ino. The girl sounded so far away from her, even though she was just on the other end of the telephone line.

It was hard to concentrate on anything, right then and there, because of everything going on, because she felt so incredibly good. It was wrong to be doing this, wrong to be accepting this, but. . .

How could she not when it felt so good?

She deserved to be pampered, she deserved to be treated like the princess she was supposed to be in this fairy tale.

Lee was pampering her, so why not? It wasn't her money, it wasn't her hard earned cash, so she could just sit there and look pretty while Lee kissed her pretty, painted feet.

But it was wrong to accept these gifts, because Lee was only trying to win her affection, and no matter how much money he spent on her, it was not right and she would not love him.

So, why did she accept, then? Because it felt good. She wouldn't love him, but by doing this, she was leading him on, which would end up hurting Ino because she'd believe Lee, and what he believed wasn't true. It was such a tangled, intricate web of lies that even she herself was too wrapped up in it to begin unravelling it, even just slightly.

This was so, so wrong, but why did it have to feel so good? Why was it that when she screwed up, it felt so wonderful that she wanted to do it again?

She sighed heavily. So wrong, yet so good. . .Why did she always seem to get herself into trouble? Why was she always the one who had to sacrifice what she wanted and what she liked to be the angel?

Everyone else got away with doing things they shouldn't have, but nobody seemed to care what they did, but when she did something wrong, it was all hands up in arms, Sakura's screwed up again!

Oh, Sakura screwed up again. Why didn't they gossip about other things that were wrong, like Sasuke and Naruto sleeping together? There was something wrong, but nobody ever said anything about it, and it was perfectly okay when it wasn't.

Oh, she'd just screwed up again.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Well, this was stupid.

Naruto was lying on the bottom bunk, with Gaara above him, idly staring up at the bottom of the mattress above him.

It was well past midnight, but he couldn't sleep, not here, in this place. It was too strange, too weird, and too unlike home for him to be able to just go to sleep.

So, he lay there, awake.

He had been here a total of twelve hours, and he still knew nothing about why he was there, or the dying woman in the master bedroom. It wasn't like he cared or anything, but still. Should he have at least known her?

He couldn't think of anyone he'd ever seen that looked like her, and he couldn't remember any names that seemed to fit her appearance. It was making him angry. Why the hell couldn't he remember, if he was supposed to know her!

She had asked for him, so she obviously knew who he was. And if she knew him, he should have known her, but he didn't and it made him mad!

Gaara shifted above him, and then, the green-eyed boy was half hanging over the side of the railing, looking in at him with his eerie eyes that were like gemstones in the moonlight. "Can't sleep?" he asked, then swung down, and crawled into bed with the blond.

They were silent for a moment or two, and then Naruto realized that they were too close together. His elbow was bumping against Gaara's chest. He scooted away.

They were silent for some time more, just sitting there, in the dark. Neither one had much to say to the other. Naruto didn't want to talk to Gaara, because the boy had been the cause of trouble for him in the past, and now, in the present.

Gaara, on the other hand, seemed pensive, as though he was about to say something, but wanted to phrase it delicately, and he was looking for the exact words to put Naruto's fears on hold, and calm him, just even for a few minutes.

But obviously, what he wanted to say was not something calming or soothing, and it was bound to get Naruto up in a knot, because it was not delicate news.

Naruto waited, anxiously, for the red-head to speak his mind, to open up to him and tell him what was going on here.

Gaara sighed, at long last, and looked up from the floor. His eyes bored into Naruto's. "Naruto," he whispered, as though someone might hear them.

Naruto watched him, mesmerized by those green eyes. The pupil seemed to be swallowed by the irises. Gaara's mouth was moving, and words were coming out, but all Naruto could see were those eyes.

"Do you want to know what's going on here?"

The blond looked contemplative for a moment, the swallowed nervously and nodded, still looking into the red-head's eyes, unable to look away. Gaara leaned over, and in a second, those eyes were gone, hidden beneath heavy lids.

Their lips met, one second, two, three, and then, they parted again, and Naruto drew a deep, wispy breath. He looked at Gaara, and mouthed, shakily to him, 'Why?' because he didn't trust his voice not to quake if he spoke.

Gaara said nothing, then said, "Do you want to know why you're here?"

When Naruto nodded, he continued, saying, "Then what I tell you cannot ever be told to anyone else."

Naruto wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but he nodded anyway, and then, waited for Gaara to continue.

The red-head closed his eyes and started to tell the long, intricate tale.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The baby was healthy, and that was all she needed to know, to go on like this.

Neji was there, by here side, and it was okay, because he was there, and he was okay, and the baby was okay too, so she was always.

She was okay, because the baby was healthy and it wouldn't need any special care, it wouldn't need any more time than she had, it wouldn't need anything more of her than she could provide.

It was a wonderful feeling now, the thought that she was giving life to something that was hers, and would always be hers, whether it knew it or not, because it was a part of her, would have been a part of her for nine months, when that time came to pass.

She felt safe and secure then, because she had Neji backing her, keeping her safe from the ridicule she was going to receive for being a teenage mother, but she did not care, because it was all alright, in the end.

She wasn't allowed to play a god, because this was life and life was something valuable. She had been given something precious, a child, and it would have been rude to ask to return the unwanted gift. There were many women who wanted children, yet could not have them.

Still, there were days when she didn't want it and wanted to send it back to where it came from, and there were days when she hated that she hadn't killed it when she had the chance, but for some odd reason, those days seemed to take a backseat to the days where she loved the fact that she was a mother.

Sure, she was a teenager, but that did not matter to her. She and Neji were together to provide the stability of a couple older than themselves, and Neji had his family's fortunes at his fingertips. They were secure enough to bring something that precious into their midst.

They were having a baby.

She couldn't have been happier that this was the truth, and not some thing she would want and long for in the future, only to find that she couldn't have one, and her hopes and dreams would be crushed, and she would die a barren old woman, who had never known what it was like to be a mother, and she would leave Neji, her love, without an heir to carry on the family name.

Better sooner than never, she decided.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You stuck-up little whore!"

"You lying asshole!"

"Jerk!"

"Fuck-face!"

"Slut!"

"Back-stabber!"

"Drag queen!"

"Pole dancer!"

Itachi and Orochimaru had run out of good insults to throw at each other a long while back, and now, they were just screaming whatever foul word happened to find its way from their brain to their tongue.

The mirror was broken, its shattered glass all over the floor, and they were both sporting bleeding cuts on their feet because of it. They had scuffled a bit, biting, punching, kicking, tugging at each other's hair, screaming all the while.

Books, and pillows and other things lay all about the room, having been thrown at each other by the violent ex-lovers.

The room was in a sorry state, and so was their relationship.

"Why the hell did you do that!"

"Why wouldn't I!"

"You did it first!"

"So! You needed to be put in your place!"

"You're the one out of place!"

"I wasn't the one with my nose out of joint because of Kisame!"

"So what! That slimy fish was just waiting to get his hands on you!"

"Yeah? And that gives you the right to cling to me like a scared little boy!"

They circled each other, wary of the others barbed words, eyes narrowed, faces flushed with anger and exertion. They'd been warring like this for most of the morning, and now, the clock was saying it was nearly two in the afternoon, from its new home on the floor.

Growling and snarling, they were like wild animals, one who had tread into the other's territory unwelcome and uninvited.

They were vicious, ruthless and brutal, but they had to be, to get through the other's thick skull, to make it inside their head, to screw with their thoughts and try to straighten out that warped path of thought.

"I hate you!"

"I hate you too!"

"Good! So fuck off!"

"Make me!"

And running out of sensible, intelligent adult things to say, they reverted to the grade school style of fighting, in which the other told one to 'make them' and the other did try, and sometimes, succeeded.
And hate was such a strong word, such a powerful word that it seems to overpower everything else that was said. Some words possess power like that, the power to hurt, depending on how said, when said, and why said. Hate, however, possesses this power every time it is said, no matter the variables.

It stings, like poison in flesh, like salt in an open wound, and it gets inside, and then, it burns away everything else, leaving nothing but hurt and anger. And the hurt turns to anger, because it doesn't want to be weak, and the anger takes the hurt and makes it anger too, so that anger is all that is left inside that burnt pathway, and it is the only thing known, and then, when all has been said and done, the hurt turns inside out on anger, and becomes hurt again, taking all the anger with it, and making its own.

Cyclic, like the seasons, this drama is played out whenever one comes into contact with the other they walk this hate-love-hate line with, and over and over again, hurt changes to anger, and back to hurt, and anger to hurt, and back to anger.

But how to hate something when you love also that same thing? How to love when you hate that which you love? It becomes confusing and in confusion, anger takes hold and lashes out, because of the frustration rooted in the confusion, the frustration of not being able to comprehend.

So it went, and so it has gone, for all eternity, and the fight between these two lovers was none above any others that had been played out in the past, and none that should be played out in the future.

But for then and there, that fight was monumental.

They fought, and fought, both physically, and verbally, and then, when all was said and done, they were left to curl in on themselves and think back on what they had said, what they had done. They winced when they thought of how the punch they'd thrown was going to leave a dark bruise, or how the words they'd hurled at each other like knives were lined with poison, poison that would still hurt and cause pain tomorrow, and the day after, until the wound was healed.

In the silence that followed the breaking of the storm, they had naught to do, but look back on what they had accomplished, on what they wanted to accomplish, and then, confusion came into play.

Did he want to stay? Did he want him to stay? Was it time to move on, and keep going, time to drift apart? Should they resolve this and get back together?

It was confusing, and neither quite knew what to do. They knew they had wronged, and they knew to fix it, something had to be done.

But what?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gaara tried to remember all he had been told, and piece it into a logical story for Naruto to understand. He understood it himself, because he had lived with the knowledge and he had known, and so on and so forth, or rather, he understood it simple because he did.

"Your mother," he started, then, with one look at Naruto's expression, knew that this was not a good way to start.

He sighed. How to begin then? "Your father," he said, looking at Naruto, and finding a very similar reaction, gave up on trying to find a way to begin this that Naruto liked.

This was probably going to be painful anyways.

"Your father," he said again, and noted that Naruto was getting impatient. "Is dead, isn't he?"

Naruto nodded, and Gaara sighed in relief. For a second or two, he'd wondered if they'd gotten the wrong Naruto (how many could there be) and this boy's father wasn't dead.

"Your father. He died of a sickness, right?"

Naruto nodded. He hoped Gaara didn't ask him what, because he didn't know and he was fuzzy on his father anyways. He remembered little to nothing of the man at the best of times.

"Your father died of AIDS," Gaara said, and Naruto opened his mouth to protest how that was possible, and how Gaara, of all people, knew, but the red-head ploughed on ahead.

"Your mother and father were barely married a year when you were born, Naruto. Your mother had been married before, and she had three children with her other husband. She was older than your father."

Naruto stared at Gaara, unable to say anything, wondering how the red-head knew this kind of stuff anyways.

"Your father. . .was sleeping around. And you mother had just filed for divorce when he got sick, so she stuck it out with him, until he died. You were barely three when he died."

Naruto nodded, looking down at the sheets contemplatively.

"Your mother gave you up for adoption, then, because she couldn't stand to look at you - not the with the way you resembled her dead husband, and packed up and went back to her other three children."

Naruto said nothing. That was confusing. Why didn't she just take him with her then?
"Your mother's on her deathbed right now, Naruto."

The blond looked at Gaara, confusion written all over his face. "How. . .?"

Gaara closed his eyes and twiddled his thumbs a bit. "The woman in the other room. . .that's your mother, Naruto."

"What?!" the blond yelled, throwing himself at the red-head, and shaking him by the shoulders. "You're joking right! You're joking, this is a joke! You're lying to me!"

"I'm not lying," Gaara said evenly.

Naruto let go of him, feeling shock start creeping through him. "But. . .but," he sputtered, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

Gaara sighed. "That's why she asked to see you. She wanted to apologize for what she did before she died."

Naruto fumed. "Why!"

The woman had done what she'd done, and now, she'd dragged her now-teenage son back into her life, so he could lose her all over again, just so she could have a clean pallette when she croaked! He didn't think that was right! What kind of twisted logic was that!

Gaara sighed. "Try to calm down, Naruto. She doesn't want to make amends with you, or anything stupid and sappy like that. She just wants to say sorry, and then, just to see how you've grown up."

Naruto wasn't listening. Besides, that was just as bad as wanting to 'make amends' as Gaara said. He turned about, crossing his arms and sulking. This was so stupid! Why couldn't she have just died, and left him out of it?

He would have been better off, wouldn't he?

"Who were her kids?" Naruto asked, suddenly, finding his voice and something to break the terse silence with through all his anger and confusion.

"Temari, Kankuro and myself," Gaara said softly, and Naruto lurched forward, making a face.

He was half-brothers with Gaara, of all people! He was related to these psychos!

"Guh," he grumbled. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Gaara said, but sat there for a moment too long, before finally going back to his own bed.

Naruto was left to stew in peace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -