tw: discussion of scars
Chapter Eight:Exit Wounds
"I am alone. I am eating my heart out." -Simone de Beauvoir
September 18, 2012 - New York, NY
It was September 18th, but it wasn't like Audrey would have known that. Her days since arriving back in New York had all looked about the same: wake up at noon, cereal, lie on the floor staring at her ceiling fan until the sunset, cereal, curl up in a ball and cry herself back to sleep.
She hadn't said much to Delphine when she left.
"I'll see you around?" the agent had asked.
Audrey had stared at Delphine's split lip and her black eye—injuries she should've been able to prevent—and shaken her head no. "Probably best if we don't." And that had been it. Vaguely, she ached with regret. Somewhere far away from herself, her heart was longing to go back and change the way things had happened, but those thoughts were barely close enough to hear, much less act on.
By the time they landed in New York, Audrey had given up talking entirely. A medic on the plane had wordlessly replaced the stitches she tore open in the fight against the soldier, and when Hill had debriefed them over video comms, Audrey squeezed her eyes shut instead of paying it any attention. Steve and Tony had both knocked on her door that night, but she had nothing to say, so she just didn't answer.
It was bad enough that she'd completely lost it on the helipad; Clint had put a hand on her shoulder and Audrey had screamed and started crying. There was something wrong with her. Clint's hand had felt like a hot rod on the inside of her skin, or a thousand biting ants, or a hot clamp around her muscles. It had burned her to be touched.
And now, stupidly enough, the only thing Audrey wanted in the world was to be held. Peggy was several thousand miles away but Audrey knew she'd be in New York in a second if she asked, but she didn't want to. Someone had erased the memories of the things that happened to her, and she didn't know who to trust.
So as she curled up in a ball that night and replayed the image of the man she'd killed in her head, Audrey looked out her window at the bustling city outside, full of people, and ached. She had never felt more alone.
September 25, 2012 - New York, NY
By the next week, Audrey's nightmares were so bad she'd given up on sleep entirely. She'd run out of cereal and now had moved onto instant ramen whenever she got hungry enough to eat, but even then, the broth usually went cold from being left on the coffee table.
On that particular Tuesday, Audrey had finished reading through all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files from the 1960s. She'd gotten in touch with a friend in the C.I.A. about it too, but their files had been even more useless. The C.I.A. had been far more concerned with rooting out whoever didn't agree with them and assassinating them than neutralizing nuclear threats.
The papers fanned out around her and she laid back on the wood floor of her living room, staring up at the fan. There was no real reason for it to be on; it was cold enough in Manhattan today and she had heating and AC, but the motion soothed her.
In the fan's spinning blades, Audrey replayed her captivity. She traced the paths of Zechariah's blade on her body, drawing her fingers over the scars and thinking about the cruel, awful look he'd given her as he brandished his knife—like she was a feast for him to dig into. In the shower, Audrey scrubbed the words until they started bleeding again. Then, as she sat in her towel on the edge of the tub, paralyzed, she picked at the scabs all over again.
She kept trying to understand what the words meant. Some of them were easy enough. Mother, because they were fascinated with her parentage. Miracle, possibly because their experiments had succeeded on her? You were our most successful project. What had she done for them?
Then she thought about the guard she'd shot in the head. Audrey remembered doing that. It hadn't been because she was brainwashed. She hadn't even panicked, or thought about it, or hesitated. She'd just killed him. Their little killing machine. Audrey had never worried that she was evil before; she had worried about not being enough or wasting whatever potential she had, but she'd never felt evil. But she had to be, right? Nobody killed that easily. Not for the first time. But she had.
Bad guy or not, the guard had been a person, Audrey thought. She traced the A in DAISY. What did that mean? Daisies held no particular significance to her.
Audrey stayed there for a very long time, still, just watching the fan turn.
October 2, 2012 - New York, NY
"There's a visitor for you, Agent Carter," JARVIS announced. Audrey winked one eye open and found that she'd passed out on the floor last night after pushing her coffee table against the couch to give her the space she needed to lay down on the floor. Her arm was all pins and needles from supporting her head all night, and she had drooled on her sleeve.
Her head ached, as it had for the last three weeks, and she winced as she pushed herself up. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Agent Maria Hill from S.H.I.E.L.D., ma'am."
"Ugh."
"Would you like me to request that she leave?"
"Yes."
There was a moment of silence, and Audrey took that moment to stand up. As she did, crumbs from the open bag of saltine crackers on the table scattered from the front of her shirt onto the floor, and she frowned. Her apartment had become something of a nightmare in recent days, with crumbs everywhere, and abandoned ramen cups, and dishes piling up near the sink. But it just kept getting worse, and she had no idea how to stop it when she could barely muster up the strength to shuffle over to the microwave with a pyrex of water to heat.
"Agent Carter, my system is being overridden, unfortunately," JARVIS announced. "Agent Hill and Mr. Stark are coming inside."
"JARVIS, no!" Audrey shouted, but it was too late. The lock was turning and the door was swinging open.
"Jesus Christ, Aud," said Tony. "Do you know how hard it was for me to find the physical key?" He held it up and jangled the key chain, as if impressed with himself. "Love what you've done with the place."
Audrey usually already had a low capacity for Tony's sarcasm. She had trouble telling when he was being serious and just trying not to admit it and when he was actually messing with her. Now, especially, she wasn't in the mood.
"I can't do this right now, Tony."
Tony looked at her, slumped over in defeat, and pocketed the key.
"What about for me?" Hill asked. "I need a favor."
"No," Audrey said. "I don't—I can't. I'm on leave."
"Technically, there's a form for that."
She wanted to scream at Hill, and then at Tony for letting her in. Why was everyone pointing out the obvious right now while still missing what should have been so clear—that she wasn't in the mood for talking?
"Fine. Send over the form and I'll fill it out."
"Before you do, we were wondering if we could have you come in for some testing," Hill announced, looking down at Audrey's coffee table and pushing a file over so she could perch on the edge of it.
"No."
"No?" Hill said. "It's just routine stuff. Bloodwork, vitals."
"I've had enough testing," Audrey replied. "I don't want to."
"I get that, it's just—" Hill took a breath. "Listen. We need to in order to close the file on Bardot. It's procedure that when someone is held captive for more than an hour, we run a medical test on them. And, plus—" She pointed to Audrey's legs, where her gym shorts revealed more than enough of the scars to make Hill's point. "We were hoping to have someone analyze those."
"I don't want to be analyzed again."
"You signed a contract when you started working for S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Okay?"
"You have to do this. Or a doctor can come to you, whichever."
"I don't understand what you're not getting. I don't want to be tested on again or experimented on again, I've had enough of that, and I want you to leave."
"Audrey—" Tony began, reaching out for her.
"No!" she shouted, stumbling back. She grabbed a blanket off of her chair and wrapped it around her body to hide the scars on her legs. Something that had solidified in her chest felt like it was melting and sloshing around now, and threatening to spill out. It was a heat that replaced the cold numbness she'd slipped into. "I don't want to do this, and I'm not going to."
Hill glanced at Tony, as if trying to ask him to convince her without actually having to ask out loud. He was more preoccupied with Audrey, though, who had started to cry.
"Get out of my apartment!" she shouted. Her voice felt wide in her throat, overflowing. Her arms started shaking and she gripped onto her elbows to try and stop them from moving. "You aren't going to touch me. I don't want to do this."
She sunk to the floor, and Hill stood up from the coffee table, frowning down at her. "Carter. It'll be fast."
She gritted her teeth together and sunk down to the floor. It felt like there was boiling water in her body. Everything hurt. She wanted to tear herself open to make it stop, but the hotter it got, the faster the temperature rose, and if she didn't stop, she was going to evaporate.
"Can you—please—Stark."
Tony shook his head. "I think we better go, Hill. We can—we can discuss on the elevator ride down."
"Fury really wants—"
"I think we should go."
Audrey squeezed her eyes shut and willed for it all to be over, and then wished that none of it had happened in the first place. She rocked back and forth, knees to her chest, trying to catch her breath as she hiccupped. When she opened her eyes, they were gone again. It was as if they'd never been there in the first place.
October 10, 2012 - New York, NY
"Let's just take it easy," Natasha said. She tossed a pair of hand wraps in Audrey's direction and Audrey nodded. There was something in Natasha that was holding back—more than usual—as if it didn't quite trust that Audrey wasn't a ticking time bomb. She couldn't blame Natasha; the last time Audrey had spoken to anyone had been when she nearly chewed Hill's head off last week.
Audrey wrapped her hands and used her teeth to secure the velcro fastening. It was the first time she'd trained in a month now, and she knew Nat was doing her a favor by taking it slow, but it was a favor Audrey wasn't too sure she wanted.
"Ready?" Natasha asked, lifting her fists up.
By way of an answer, Audrey swung a right hook that Natasha easily ducked to dodge. Natasha jabbed Audrey in the shoulder and Audrey seized her hand, yanking her forward.
Leveraging her weight, Natasha twisted her body until her body was pressed to Audrey's front. Audrey knew before it happened what Natasha's next move would be, but she wasn't quick enough to stop her from flipping her over and slamming her back down on the mat.
Natasha circled above Audrey, offering a hand to pull her up. Audrey accepted and hopped back onto her feet.
Instead of going first, Audrey waited for Natasha to attack. The redhead swung up her foot, aiming to land a kick in Audrey's face, but she pushed it away with her arm. Natasha shrugged and dropped, throwing her legs out and attempting to sweep out Audrey's feet from under her. Knowing better, Audrey jumped. Natasha moved back onto her feet and tried to punch Audrey again. This time, she was successful.
Audrey stumbled back. The punch had hit her hard. She lifted her fingers to her nose and when she pulled them away, found them stained in blood.
"Sorry," Natasha said. "Let's take a break."
Audrey didn't answer, she just charged for Natasha, knocking the both of them to the ground. Natasha gasped the slightest bit, surprised, but not as surprised as Audrey was with herself. There was something about blood, her own blood, on her own fingers, that made her both dizzy and furious, and as Natasha caught Audrey's fist in her hand, it became apparent to her why she'd been removed from field duty.
"Carter, take five," Natasha ordered. Audrey yanked her arm away and aimed for Natasha's face again. Fed up, the assassin pushed Audrey off her and flipped her over, pinning her down on the mat. "Stop it."
Audrey struggled to break free from Natasha. Her vision blurred with tears, and the blood from her nose was spilling onto her lips now. "Let go of me!" she shouted, but Natasha didn't budge, just shoved her down harder.
"Tell me what happened in Moscow," Natasha demanded.
What was this? Some twisted game of show and tell? "You know what happened in Moscow," Audrey replied, gritting her teeth to hold back a sob.
"I know that I know," Natasha said. "But I want to hear it from you."
Audrey hiccupped. She yanked at her arm again, and this time, it gave way. Instead of moving to attack this time, though, she wiped the side of her face with her hand wraps. They were scratchy on her skin, but she welcomed the sensation. Anything to make her feel real again.
"I was captured in an attempt to infiltrate a DIVUS owned warehouse," Audrey mumbled.
"What else?"
"I was held captive for three days. Seventy-two hours."
"Tell me what happened."
Audrey's eyes started watering again and she hiccupped again. There was something inherently humiliating about being yelled at by Natasha, but the fact that she was crying in the middle of what was supposed to be a routine sparring session was doubly embarrassing.
"I was tortured by a doctor named Zechariah for information on you, my mother, and my team."
"How'd they torture you?"
"A knife."
"What kind of knife."
"I—I don't know. Long blade. It looked medical."
Natasha nodded. "What did they do to you, Audrey?"
Audrey squeezed her eyes shut. She pictured the marks on her body. She'd spent hours tracing over the words with her fingers, trying to understand what the point was of marking her with them, what they meant, what activation had meant. She thought about the Madame, her brittle body, left crushed by the rubble of the explosion.
"They put words on my body."
"What are the words?"
"You know the words."
"Why don't you tell me anyway?"
"Natasha, please," Audrey cried out. She sobbed. "I don't wanna. I don't want to say it."
Natasha eyed her for a moment, and then nodded. "If I move, are you going to hit me again?" Audrey shook her head no. "Okay. I'm moving." She stood up and stepped over Audrey's body. Audrey sucked in a breath, this time slowly, and squeezed her eyes shut. At the same time, Natasha kneeled next to Audrey's head. "You know, S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned a trained psychologist to our unit."
Audrey winked her left eye open. "Our unit?"
"The…" she trailed off, rolling her eyes. "The Avengers. I can't believe that was the name we settled on."
"Oh."
"You should talk to her."
"I hate making appointments."
"Carter," Natasha started sternly, before cutting herself off. "Look. You don't need to make an appointment. She's here during regular business hours every week."
"I don't understand why that means I don't need to make an appointment."
"Audrey," Natasha said. "Do you think any of the rest of us take advantage of this resource? Look around you. Do we seem like well-adjusted people? Tony hasn't slept in a week. Clint and I don't know how to begin detangling our real lives from our fake ones. Your dad has nightmares about 1945. Bruce doesn't talk to anybody because when he gets stressed he transforms into a rage monster. Thor's brother tried to kill everyone and now he hasn't been home in six months." She took Audrey's hand, in a moment of unexpected affection. "You're new to this, kid. You don't have to end up like that."
"I'm well into my sixties," Audrey said, "I don't think I can be called kid anymore."
Natasha ignored her. "Go see the psych. Whenever you feel like it. You should talk to someone before you end up as fucked up as the rest of us."
"Okay," Audrey agreed. She moved her gaze from the ceiling to Natasha. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
October 12, 2012 - New York, NY
Audrey hadn't known what to wear to therapy, because she wasn't sure what happened at therapy. Would she have to lie down like she'd seen in movies? Would it be a doctor in a coat?
After the last time she'd been alone in a room with a doctor, she really hoped it wasn't.
But if not that, then what?
In her panic, she'd decided that the best thing to wear was a suit, so when she arrived at the office to find a pretty Latina woman in a floral sundress and glasses, she was surprised.
"Doctor Rojas?" she asked.
The woman jumped, as if startled that someone had actually shown up. "Miss Carter!" she exclaimed, shutting her book and setting it down on her desk as she stood. Audrey noticed that it was Twilight. "Call me Isabel, please. What can I do for you?"
"I am here for, um, therapy," Audrey announced. "If that's okay."
"Of course it is," Isabel replied. "Take a seat wherever you're comfortable," she offered, gesturing to the couch opposite two chairs in the far end of the room. She had a few paintings hanging—still lifes of bowls of fruit, mostly—on the walls.
Audrey chose the couch because it was bigger, but then panicked because the space around her felt weird. She shoved her body over until she was huddled in the corner.
"Have you ever met with a therapist before?"
"Just for routine evaluations."
"Alright, that makes sense. Do you have any questions?"
"Am I supposed to dress a certain way?"
Isabel considered her for a moment, then shook her head. "No. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in. You could show up in your pajamas or your Halloween costume and I wouldn't judge you."
"Okay," Audrey said. "How does this work?"
"Well, I have to ask you a few questions just for the first time," Isabel explained, "and then you can tell me what's going on with you. And if you want to come back again, we can set up an appointment, or you can drop in whenever you need me. Also, everything that you say here is confidential. I won't tell anyone anything you share, unless someone's safety is in danger."
Audrey nodded. "What are the questions?"
"Just general stuff about who you are. Medical history, family background, stuff like that."
"Okay," Audrey said. Easy enough. "My father is Steve Rogers and my mother is Peggy Carter. I've never been sick because of the serum, which I inherited."
Isabel nodded slowly. "Well, okay. Let's just—let's just run through the questions anyway, to be sure. And to help us get to know each other a little bit better."
"Do you think you could go first, then?"
"Go first with what?"
"Introducing yourself."
"Oh, okay, sure." Isabel removed her glasses. "My name is Isabel Rojas, I'm a therapist. I've worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. for my entire career, first in HR and now as a psychologist and psychiatrist. I used to work with Strike Team Delta, so when the Avengers formed, I was transferred here."
Audrey nodded. "Okay, that's good to know. I guess, um, I'll go now."
After she'd filled Isabel in on her life's story, Isabel said, "So what's going on?"
Audrey inhaled. "I think I might be an evil person."
"Alright," Isabel said. "Tell me about it."
By the end of the session, Audrey decided that she liked therapy. Isabel had explained to her that there were reasons for her feeling the way she did, and then she'd explained how those things worked.
"Post-traumatic stress disorder is a condition that occurs in a lot of people. It's very common in veterans, or survivors of assault." Isabel had started off the meeting taking notes, but she had set the notepad aside after a while and just focused on listening to Audrey. "You went through something really scary," she explained, "and just because it's a normal thing for people in your line of work to experience doesn't make it any easier."
She'd given Audrey a prescription for a sleep medication and an antidepressant. Then, Isabel asked, "How familiar are you with autism?"
Audrey shrugged. "I know what it is."
"So, the way you describe your thought process, and your habits, seem to me like characteristics of autism. This doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you, or the way you act or think about things, it's just different from how a lot of other people do things."
Audrey furrowed her brow. "So what do I do about it?"
"Well, it's not something that needs to be cured or anything like that. Autism affects people in different ways and so everyone has different needs. For some people, they need help communicating with others, because the differences can make it easy for certain meanings to get lost in translation."
She considered this. Her inability to understand Tony's sarcasm, her frustration when Clint and Natasha seemed to have conversations with no words at all, and how she'd only managed to befriend the members of Tac Team Q because they were all brutally honest.
"You've built a really successful career and you have a great team, it seems," Isabel said, "and I don't think that's in spite of your autism, I think it's made you exceptional. That being said, we can set up a regular meeting to check-in every week and see if there's anything I can help you work out, just to make life easier for you."
Help with understanding the things she tended to miss would be useful. "I think I would like that," Audrey said.
So they agreed to meet on Wednesdays, and Isabel recommended a few books to Audrey by other people on the spectrum to help her better understand how it worked.
When she got back to her apartment, Audrey leaned back against the door and stared at her home. It was a mess. There were files everywhere and abandoned styrofoam cups of ramen littering every available surface. She wanted to open the windows maybe, and then do the dishes. First, though, she reached over for the switch on the wall, and turned the fan off.
October 14, 2012 - New York, NY
"Agent Carter, Miss Lewis is outside."
Audrey was in the middle of loading the laundry machine with her sheets when JARVIS greeted her. Darcy was here?
"Should I send her away?" JARVIS asked.
"No, don't," Audrey said. She wasn't sure why Darcy was stopping by. Audrey still hadn't spoken to anybody else in the tower—she was still working on getting up in the morning—but Darcy could be a good place to start. She didn't know anything about the mission, and she was just generally an easy person to be around. After pouring in her detergent and sliding the tray shut, she hit start on the machine and headed to the door.
"Hi," Darcy greeted. Immediately, Audrey was hit with the smell of food. Darcy held up a paper bag. "Stark Industries had this gourmet burger place cater an event for his interns, and I've heard from a few people that you like burgers."
"You heard right," Audrey admitted, smiling. This was the first time she'd be having hot food that didn't come out of a microwave in over a month, and she welcomed the opportunity.
"Do you mind if I come in?" Darcy asked. "If not, I can totally just leave these with you."
"No, please," Audrey said, opening the door wider. "Come in."
"Thanks," Darcy said. She headed for the kitchen and set the burgers down on the counter. "I like your place. It's very minimalist and cool."
From the bag, Darcy pulled out a very fancy looking cheeseburger on a brioche bun, and a smaller paper bag of fries. She offered them to Audrey, who accepted.
"Thank you," Audrey said. "I get stressed out when a room has too many things in it. Do you want a plate for yours too?"
"Yes, please. And that makes sense," Darcy said, nodding sagely. "My apartment is pretty barren but it's mostly because I'm never there. My taste usually involves way more stuff, but I haven't really settled anywhere long enough to decorate, or anything."
"How long have you been in New York?"
She counted on her fingers. "Six months. Ish. Before that, I was in New Mexico. And then before that, Virginia, and West Virginia."
"Virginia's nice," Audrey said, leading Darcy over to the small table in her kitchen. They both settled, and Audrey took a bite of the burger. So good. It was even better than she'd imagined. Through the bite, she added, "I lived there a bit when I was growing up, but that was also in the sixties"
"Culver was a blast," Darcy agreed. "I felt at home there."
"Is that where you went for undergraduate or graduate?"
"Both. They gave me a lot of aid, which is rare for a Masters degree. I was planning on getting a PhD, too, maybe, but then I started working here."
"I have one of those."
"What for?"
"Linguistics. At UCLA."
"Ooh, west coast girl."
"I always liked California," Audrey admitted. "I studied at Berkeley a little bit, too, for engineering and History."
"How many degrees do you have?"
She thought about it. "Six. But it's just because I had nothing to do when I was growing up. I didn't look old enough to work and I wasn't young enough to just...sit around all day and be happy with it. I was lucky with my mom's job and stuff, we could afford it."
"You have more degrees than Tony?" Darcy said, sounding impressed.
"I mean. Technically, yes. But he graduated from M.I.T. when he was sixteen and the reason he stopped going to school was because he was too smart."
"That's still an accomplishment."
"I guess so. Thank you." Audrey searched for other things to talk about, and then for a ketchup packet for her fries. "I saw your article, with my dad."
Darcy immediately shook her head. "We're not dating, I promise," she rushed to insist. "We were just, uh, hanging out. He was getting lonely with you and Natasha gone, since he doesn't really hang out much with Tony and Bruce and Thor, so."
"No, I know," Audrey said. "I appreciate you looking out for him. He's bad at asking for help."
Darcy shrugged. "Sometimes I think he might not realize he needs anyone else. He's missed you a ton, since you got back. He's so worried."
Steve had been coming by fairly regularly to try and talk, and he'd been sending her text messages to check in—always with the salutation and the signature—and Audrey wanted to talk to him but she wasn't sure where to begin. But she did miss him, and after so long had passed, maybe she ought to make plans to spend time with him soon.
"He hasn't really connected with anyone," Audrey said. "Romantically, or just in general."
"It took a while for him to get comfortable," Darcy shared. "He was so worried about being polite. Not that anything we do now is, like, impolite, but. He's honest. I'm really glad we're friends."
"Thank you for being so good to him."
"I also wanted to offer, like—I know I don't know you that well, and I don't know what happened in Mosc—" she cut herself off. "Wherever you went on your mission, I don't know where, because I don't have clearance. But anyway. I'm not a spy or anything so I can't give you any real advice or wisdom or anything, but I am here if you want to talk. Or if you just need a distraction. The stuff you guys see and have to deal with is—it's insane, and I don't know how I would deal with it, or how anybody else does, but if you need any help with that, I'm always here."
Hearing Darcy talk about it as though the things they saw weren't actually normal made Audrey feel real for the first time in a while. She had been surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. and the kind of stuff it dealt with for most of her life; it had always seemed like it should've been normal, even though she had no idea how to deal with it. Darcy's flabbergasted expression when she talked about aliens and mad scientists was a reminder that maybe the world was crazy instead of her.
"Thank you," Audrey said. "I'm—I was not doing well. I still feel really bad sometimes. But I'm just trying to get the rest of my life together and hoping the rest will follow."
"Totally," Darcy agreed, nodding. "It's best to take it one day at a time, and then you can like, figure out what things make you feel bad and avoid them."
Audrey wanted Darcy to be right, but she couldn't avoid her own body. "It's just—" She rolled up her sleeve. "When I was being held, they marked words onto me."
"Seriously?" Darcy said. "Aw, I'm sorry. That's so fucked." She looked at Audrey's arm more closely. "Can I ask what Daisy means?"
"I have no idea," Audrey replied. "I don't know why they chose that."
Darcy pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, as if thinking very hard about something. "When I was eight," she said, "I was in a really bad car accident. But I ended up with a scar on my arm seven inches long." She shrugged off her cardigan to reveal the top of her arm. "I hated looking at it, so I covered it up."
Audrey peered over at Darcy's arm, where she had a rose on its stem tattooed. The stem followed the line of a scar. The art was beautiful and simple, just the outline of its petals and a few thorns on the stem.
"I don't know how this whole super-soldier thing works, but I know a girl in Brooklyn who does tattoos and I'm sure she'd do one for you for free."
"I like lavender," Audrey said. "It's my favorite flower." She looked down at the words. They'd begun to heal faster since she stopped actively picking at her own scabs, but the scar that replaced the scab seemed persistent.
"I can text her now," Darcy said. "If you want to go sometime this week. I'm sure she'd be able to do some lavender branches for you."
Audrey looked down at the scar. Even healed, it felt like a wound. "I'd like that."
A/N: thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. A lot of the future chapters are going to be much lighter and more character-focused instead of plot heavy as we move through fall and the holidays, so I hope you guys are looking forward to that!