A/N: A big shout out to those of you who followed or favourited, I was really feeling the love this week.

Reviews:

Crossover Junkie: Too right. The guardians aren't the only ones who will be saying wtf now that I'm done here.

Skyress1: Oh yeah, just you wait. You're right, it is a good thing. And you make some very valid points which I agree with wholeheartedly, so fear not! There is a method to my madness, I promise.

What happened next in the typically quiet suburban court occurred so quickly that a sequence of contributing factors was difficult to trace in hindsight. However, it could be described in one word: disastrous.

Something shifted in the temptress' scrutiny of the fear spirit and it was this subtle indication that first gave Pitch the inkling that he'd made an error. The second, and more obvious clue, was the aggressive shove with which she pushed him out of her way, hell-bent on getting what she wanted. Although he'd been weary, Pitch had underestimated the extent of the hateful Valentina's wrath. Just because he refused to help her didn't mean she had no qualms about forging on with her scheme herself. She was finished waiting. She would be believed in, by any means necessary.

Taking up her bow and arrow infused with the detestable potion she'd concocted whilst under the influence of her alter ego earlier that day, Valentina stalked toward her prey and aimed to fire. Picking up on her calamitous intentions, Bunny hopped into an attack, sending his boomerangs flying in an arc towards her. But he was too late. At that very same moment, she released the tensioned bowstring that held her accursed arrow in its nocking point, which hurtled straight for poor, unassuming Thomas.

What both Valentina and her twisted counter-part failed to realise was that without the L'amour, the Guardian of Love's arrows were categorically and irrefutably fatal. No substitute could soften their blow, certainly not one that contained the essence of pure, unadulterated hatred. At this point it need not be said that the situation was grim and presumably could only have ended in tragedy.

However.

While Bunny may have been fractionally dilatory, Pitch had not. Time seemed to unwind as milliseconds counted down to the inevitable moment of impact. Call it intuition, call it instinct, something unexplainable told him that the Valentina he knew was fighting against this loathing made manifest, and he had a premonition that it was about to do something abhorrently unforgivable. The boy wouldn't be able to hear him, but he could still warn him. With a flick of his fingers, a dart of nightmare sand infiltrated the child's mind and he flinched just in time, moving enough to ruin Valentina's aim. For Pitch it was only a small gesture, and yet it completely changed the course of Thomas's fate.

In short, the boy was able to to return home safely that night, but by no means did he walk away unscathed. Narrowly missing his torso, the arrow instead whizzed past his arm, leaving a deep gash in its wake that blossomed red. He cried out from the searing pain and looked from one Guardian to the next in tumultuous panic.

"No!" she screamed with anger at having missed with what precious little liquid she had. As she projected her fury, she reached for another arrow. Pitch intervened by snatching it away and attempted to restrain her from acting out further.

"This isn't you, Valentina," he said through gritted teeth as she fought against him, "but I know you're there, I know you can beat this." He couldn't be sure if it would bring her back, but perhaps if she could hear some words of encouragement it might ward off the negativity that she radiated.

Valentina - the real Valentina - eventually stopped struggling and instead stood there with arms locked behind her back, shellshocked by the actions that she'd been taken against Thomas. It seemed that with her build up of hateful energy fully expended in one despicable act, she was finally freed. With their true mistress absent, the newly regenerated Night-Mares slunk off into the surrounding shadows and slipped away. Colour seeped back into her complexion, but her shadowy eyes remained.

"No, no, no, no…" she rasped, shaking her head vigorously in denial.

North stood by, dumbstruck. She had attacked a child under oath, the very beings they were sworn to protect. Christmas was slipping further away from their grasp and he was slowly but surely loosing his powers along with it.

"Val... how could you?" he gasped softly.

Tooth, Jack and Sandy had come to the boy's aid instantly. The dreamweaver knocked him out with a dream of particularly strong dosage to keep him from waking the neighbourhood, and Tooth attempted to bandage his arm with a cloth she'd found in the sleigh while Jack slipped his red bag under Thomas' head as he slept. The wound was clean, and no adverse symptoms had presented other than the promise of a nasty scar. Although, there was a slight purplish tinge around the edges.

With Pitch's restraint having relaxed slightly, Valentina broke away and started forward clumsily, frantic to try and fix the damage she'd caused when North stepped in and used his imposing frame to block her from coming any closer. There was a look of complete betrayal and disappointment from him that she found herself arrested by. What hurt most of all was his appraisal of her, within which she saw the reflection of a monster.

"It wasn't me," she choked, barely managing a whisper.

"It may as well have been." There was no emotion to his voice, it was flat and defeated in the worst way. He turned from her just as a fine, hairline crack appeared across her cheek. "Take her to North Pole."

"Who?" Jack asked.

"Anybody," North said with a lashing of exasperation, "she needs to go. Grab one of snow globes and make sure she gets there."

"Not that I could care less about Christmas," came Pitch' disdainful interjection, "but you're all otherwise engaged, so perhaps I will take her instead." He wasn't out to negotiate.

"You?" The pooka was livid. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your arse into the next century?"

He chuckled darkly. "Just when I thought rabbits were supposed to be nervous…"

"I'm not afraid of cowards, mate. You wanted so badly to have someone on your side that you corrupted her. Well look what it's done. I hope it was worth pushing her to the brink of self destruction."

Bunny's accusatory tone did not go unanswered. "You morons think I did this? A child was injured by someone with no autonomy, he could have been killed, and you think I would actually want that to happen," he retaliated viciously.

"It wouldn't be the first time. Why would you care, huh? You're just a selfish bastard. When have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?"

"You wouldn't have the faintest idea." He bore his jagged teeth jeeringly in something that was neither a smile nor a sneer.

"Yeah, cause you never have, and you never will. But hey, if you two are such great pals like she seems to think then sure, go ahead, take her to the Pole."

"What makes you think I would take her there?" he scoffed with a scowl. "She's coming with me."

"No, she can't go back the shadow realm, not now. Take her to North's," Tooth urged. "If you want to do something, at least make it right by her." She had some faith that what Valentina revealed about the Boogeyman might have been true, and if there was anything that would convince him to listen, her wellbeing might be the catalyst.

Pitch, meanwhile, was repulsed by the thought of actually taking orders from those he despised and had to force himself into swallowing his pride just this once. Whether he like it or not, the North Pole may have been able to provide some answers for them both. And if it really would help…

With flared nostrils he resigned to compliance. "Fine," he conceded scathingly. He hadn't taken his icy glare from the Pooka, although perhaps he should have. "Valentina, are you ready?" The spirit in question had been silent throughout the entire exchange and upon not receiving a response he wrenched it away, only to find her fixedly staring at her hands.

"Pitch," she said weakly and held them up in the dim light to show him. Cracks had begun to appear on her skin, as though she were a live porcelain doll about to shatter. With a flutter of her eyelids she began drop and he caught her reflexively before she hit the ground.

"What is that, why is this happening?" He looked to their leader, demanding an answer. The others had already sensed something troubling was occurring, which gave reason to their urgency. But nothing could have prepared them for when they actually saw Valentina's affliction. They each gasped in shock.

"Go," North adjured, "find Book of Guardian Law. It will tell you everything."

Eventually Pitch appeared at the Pole by way of the shadows, much to the aggravation of North's hairy henchmen. He had refused to accept the snow globe offered and carried Valentina himself, who was curled to his chest and still out cold. At first Phil attempted to sound an alarm, but once he saw the state of the young woman held in the fear spirit's arms, he and the others did everything they could to help. Finding a chaise lounge in one of the spare rooms, they brought it by the fire and Pitch was finally able to lay her somewhere comfortable. The yetis were then ushered away and they complied, given the Nightmare King's reputation, but they still were adamant to keep a watchful eye on the scene from a safe distance.

He pulled up a stool next to her and sat in silent unease, hunching with his chin propped up by one hand while his elbow dug into his knee. As he watched over her in his dour posture, he saw just how ghostly she appeared without the usual radiance of her olive complexion. It was true her colouring had improved, but there was a persistent greyish quality to it that wouldn't relent. Tentatively, he took her right hand in his and examined it by the fickle light of the fire. Cracks, actual cracks tarnished the surface of her skin, like stone threatening to crumble. But they only seemed half real, an illusion perhaps. Because as he held it, there was no mistaking that she was still flesh and bone. The warmth from her hand felt as though it would burn his perpetually cold one and it ignited something within him that he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever at all. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, a peacefulness that was far from the torment of an hour ago, despite traces of the incident lingering. The shadows under and around her eyes made her appear tired and worn, aching for a sleep she shouldn't have needed. Although he never wanted to lose sense of this feeling ever again, he carefully placed her fragile looking hand back where it had been resting against her stomach.

He needed to know what was doing this, and better still why any of it was happening at all. Her random outbursts, the nightmare sand, all of it. Being stumped by such a mystery tormented him to no end and would have continued to do so, had he not remembered the book. It had to be there somewhere. They were surrounded by bookshelves, and to his right they stretched even further. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, looking around agitatedly for something that might fit the picture he had in his head of what he was supposed to be looking for. That, and for something to take his mind off the devastatingly beautiful mess in front of him.

Halting his wandering gaze abruptly, the realisation of the word that just came to mind hit him like a ton of bricks. When was the last time he'd called anything beautiful, devastating or otherwise? He glanced at her again and the same word teased the tip of his tongue. But what he saw was not merely a conventionally pretty face. There was a fiery, courageous determination, biting humour, and an unparalleled willingness to understand that captivated him beyond measure. What was it she'd said before? An ability to empathise... Two people who detest each other may eventually grow to care. Or something like that. Pitch stood and began to pace along the bookshelves that lined the space, deep in thought.

He cared. More than he realised. He'd even come dangerously close to admitting it to the fur-ball Guardian. The rabbit called him selfish, and a bastard, and he'd been right. Although technically, only on one account, Pitch thought with wry amusement.

Then how could he care so much?

His dark cloak trailed behind him as he scanned the numerous, leather-bound spines: Occupational Heath and Safety - Workshop, Elf Wrangling, The Control Manuel…

Was it because she knew what it was like, being so alone for so long, and having that bitterness that resulted be twisted into resentment?

…The Care of Magical Creatures, Model Trains Vol.1…

Was it the possibility that he might have found a kindred spirit who truly understood him after so many lifetimes of being shunned?

...Gods and Gateways: Myths of the Afterlife…

Maybe it was how when she saw him she didn't accost him with terror like everyone else. Of all the things that scared her, and there were so many of them, he'd never actually found himself among them.

…International Relations, The Seven Wonders of the World…

And even though she was scared, she still tried to face what the world threw at her. She'd tried to face him, and did so rather successfully too. Her bravery was the most inspiring thing about her, even if she didn't realise she had it.

Or perhaps it was all these things, combined with a strange sense of deja vu that made him feel he'd known her far longer than three short days. He realised, with some amusement, that the true irony of this whole affair lay in the fact that the one who usually answered such profound questions was the very spirit that preoccupied his thoughts.

He didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. The Book of Guardian Law was located on the same wall as the fire place. He pulled it from the shelf with a victorious smirk. It was large, heavy, ancient, and it was in fact the very volume from which the Oath of Guardians was read, although Pitch was apathetically ignorant of this fact. Hauling it back to his seat he noticed Valentina had stirred slightly, still by no means awake. No matter, he had plenty to keep himself occupied with.

He was about to settle in with the concrete slab of a book when Valentina groaned in her sleep. Pitch watched her intently for the next few moments. Something about it conveyed distress and he frowned as she emitted the guttural noise again.

"…hos…mo…iss," he heard her breathe.

What did she say? Pitch leaned in slightly closer to her, straining to catch the missing consonants if she uttered it again.

"…cos..mo…"

With a sharp intake of breath his eyes grew wide. It can't be, he thought.

"Kozmotis…" She sighed the name in her dream state, wholly unaware of its affect on the Boogeyman. He was paralysed, dumbfounded, speechless, gaping at the slumbering spirit as his heart hammered in his chest.

How could she know that? How could she possibly…

He hadn't thought about that name for millennia. There were fragments of memories long forgotten that it disturbed, emotions too strong to even comprehend. And there was pain. So much pain. His gut twisted itself into sickening knots. He needed to hear it again, but it was apparent Valentina had finished her disarming muttering.

"Kozmotis," he whispered under his breath, trying to reach what floated just beneath the surface of his sub-conscience. It was to no avail. The word, that name, whatever associative power it had before was lost. Now it was just a source of vexing unpleasantness that he had no way of defining. Though it did give him even more motivation to search the Book of Guardian Law.

Pitch leafed through appendices, footnotes, and chapter after chapter detailing endless codes of conduct, the limitations of magic, the purpose of spirits among humans on Earth and so on. Surely those weirdos don't actually read this thing, he thought. It was dry and boring, with very brief intervals containing anything of actual interest, but he was spurred on by a need to know. In the wrong hands, the information it held could be used to bring about some serious damage, he realised. Lucky for the Guardians, he'd been feeling somewhat indifferent toward their dismal relations in recent days. He still detested them of course, but it was without the desire to wreck havoc on their efforts. They were doing a stellar job of that themselves.

When Valentina finally woke, Pitch was still searching. She opened her eyes slowly, disoriented and confused. She was surprised to see him there, particularly after she deduced they were at the North Pole, end even more so to see him engrossed in such a normal activity. His luminescent eyes were flickering from one side of the page to the other. His cheek rested on a fist, warping his mouth in a crooked slant as he perused, unaware she was watching him with contented interest. His brow furrowed every now and then as he passed over a segment requiring a little more concentration and he'd bite his lip whenever something seemed to become exceptionally tedious, which was always accompanied by a small sigh. She found his mannerisms when he thought no one was watching rather endearing, and was quite happy to stay in that little bubble of calm where the world was yet to have any sort of meaning to her confused mind. She shifted on to her side, her only real objective being to gain a better vantage point of the object of her fascination, but the movement seemed to disturb him and his eyes snapped up from the page.

"Ah, she wakes," he said, with a faint smile. "I was wondering how long it'd be before you finally returned to land of the living."

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and yawned as she attempted to prop herself up. "I wouldn't call this being awake," she said sleepily. She sat there for a moment, letting her memories wander back through the fog of amnesia, and Pitch returned to his reading.

"What are we doing here?" she asked after minute or two.

"You gave the Guardians quite a turn, they seemed to think it best that you returned to the North Pole for the time being while they finish with Christmas. Normally I'm not one to agree with any of their opinions, but this time they actually may have made a valid point." he explained, not taking his eyes off the passage. Something had caught his attention.

"Christmas?…"

She gasped. Her sense of serenity quickly disappeared as the events of the evening rushed back to her in full, gruesome detail. "Oh my God, I remember it. I remember everything," she cried. "I should have listened to you. You were right I should never have touched that stuff, not ever. What was I thinking!? God, I can't believe I was so stupid," she lamented in a distraught state.

"Well, I have always been of the opinion that 'curiosity killed the cat'," he agreed somewhat regrettably.

"I hurt that boy, Pitch! I hurt him!"

Pitch discarded the book and gave her his full attention. "Valentina, please stay calm," he instructed her evenly.

"I can't be calm, I nearly killed him!" she practically screamed.

"That wasn't you and you know it," he said sternly.

"It was me, it was my hand that shot the arrow. And even if it wasn't it may as well have been, that's what North said. I'm…" She caught sight of her hands and arms and her face fell in distraught agony when she found the jagged cracks that now decorated her skin. "I'm breaking," she whispered. "I let it happen again, I let fear and hate control me until I was nothing more than a savage and it's going to happen again it will keep happening and there's nothing I can do about it-"

"Enough, Valentina" he ordered, breaking her hysterical rambling, "I won't hear anymore of this self-degradation."

Even though she had a rant worth of things to grieve, Valentina held her tongue, recognising his austere tone. His ashen hands enclosed her knot of anxious fingers as she tried to take deep, even breaths.

"I want you to focus on me. Can you do that?"

It took a few trials. She kept wanting to flicker her attention to other things, none of which were helping, but eventually she found his gaze, held it, and nodded nervously.

"Good." He spoke softly, with a sympathetic bedside manner. "Now, I need you to tell me what it is that's frightening you."

"Again with this? What's the point, Pitch? You already know what they are. Fear is fear, and it's not going to make any difference whether I say it out loud or not," she argued despairingly.

"Yes, it will. I want to help you, but you need to acknowledge your fears before you can face them, and that's only something you can do. No one, not even I, can do it for you. When you say them it allows you to hear them for what they truly are.

She exhaled slowly in consideration. It was so simple what he was asking, but the concept of actually realising her fears still seemed like a daunting task.

"Valentina, will you trust me on this? You don't have to worry about me. Like you said, it won't be anything I don't already know."

Focusing on the gold and sliver flecks of his irises allowed her something to use as an anchor to reality. She knew he was right, you had to know the beast before you could tame it.

"Alright," she began with a shaky breath, "I'm afraid of many things. Most people are, but mine seem to affect me more strongly than others somehow. I'm sacred of making mistakes, especially when others are relying on me. And when I do, it can feel as though the world is going to end if I can't fix them. I'm scared of losing control, of myself and the things that influence me. This thing inside of me is terrifying and possessive, and I can't help but think it wouldn't exist if it wasn't some reflection of the most deplorable parts of my soul. One of the things I dreaded has already happened: I've failed at being a Guardian and it won't be long before they throw me out. Of course, I'm petrified that when they do, I'll be alone again. I'll go back to wandering aimlessly, never staying in one place for very long. It could be years before I talk to anyone and the silence is deafening when my memories of family are nothing but a blur of hazy figures. But worst of all, I'm sacred of the monster I might have become to you. I did something so selfish and reckless, all because I couldn't handle what my fate had dealt me. None of us are supposed to hurt children and yet I did. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."

"Oh I can assure you that I'm a far greater monstrosity than you ever will be. In fact, I guarantee it," Pitch rebuked ruefully.

She looked fiercely as though she wanted to fire off a thousand different arguments to the contrary, but he pressed on with a consoling sigh.

"Valentina, this fear that you feel right now is strong, and I understand that it's on the verge of overtaking everything. But you have to try and rationalise it as best you can. Fear is there for a reason, unpleasant though it is for anyone but me. If you can remember why that is, you might be able to lessen it into manageable intensities."

"Do you really think so?" she asked skeptically.

His thin lips curled into a slight smile. "I know so. You're the bravest creature I've ever encountered. If anyone can do it, you can."

In speaking her fears out loud, they seemed more real to Valentina than ever before. But curiously, as she had begun to reveal exactly what it was that struck terror into her heart, the torturous nature of her anxiety seemed to subside. By the time she finished, it was as though she could see the proverbial beast with absolute clarity, and it, along with Pitch's unwavering confidence, helped her realise that there might be a way to beat it.

"I don't feel very brave though," she chuckled mirthlessly.

"And still you persevere! My dear, you cannot know courage without fear. Fearlessness and bravery are two very different things. When your delightful alter ego decided to make an appearance, you might have been afraid but I could sense you were trying to fight against it. I don't know how, or why, but I am as certain of it as I am sure you're sitting in front of me right now. There's something very admirable to to be said about that. It makes me think you'll be able to beat this. All of it."

She gave him a grateful smile, still fixed in his gaze, and him in hers.

"Your fear of this Hateful you, which we both know isn't you at all, means that you're going to do everything you can to either destroy it, or keep it under control. And yes, I suppose it is an uncomfortable thought, falling short of expectations. But surely it just means you care enough to not let it happen?"

"Tooth did say something like that," Valentina realised. It seemed like forever ago, when Toothiana was convincing her to make the journey that started all this.

Pitch screwed up his nose in cynicism. "The fairy? Perhaps she's more intelligent than she looks."

"Don't say that," she scolded. "She's very smart and she's more than capable of looking it."

Pitch rolled his eyes. "Ok fine, she's more... open minded than I gave her credit for."

"Better."

"See, who else could berate the Boogeyman so brazenly?" He pointed out with a chuckle.

"Only because you let me get away with it," she countered with a begrudging smile.

He mused this wryly. "I'll admit that's become a rather bad habit of mine lately. But more importantly," he continued, "and hope you've already realised this, the worst case scenario happened, and you're still here. The world hasn't crumbled to the ground just yet."

"Maybe not yet, but I very well could," she reminded him, holding up a fragmented hand with worry.

"Ah yes. That's what I've been trying to figure out. I must say, the nature of your affliction does't fit any that I've found in here, but I still have..." he curled back the unread pages of the open book and dropped them again with a heavy thud, "...a bit to go."

"You were doing all that for me?" she asked in astonishment.

"Of course," he shrugged, "why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, it just…"

"-Goes completely against my wicked disposition, how could I forget," he chuckled.

"I didn't say that."

"I'm only teasing," he said rolling his eyes again.

Valentina had been gawking at him incredulously, but she shook her head to herself as her dark lips spread into a grin.

"What?" he asked, feeling as though there was something he'd missed.

"Nothing," she laughed, "nothing at all."

He narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, but then waved a lazy hand dismissively and returned to the book. He brought it over with him to the chaise and held it open in his lap. Wanting to contribute to his efforts as much as possible, Valentina scooted closer to where he sat and peered over his shoulder at the page. Being so close to him, the warmth she gave was deliciously distracting, and he couldn't help but eye her as she concentrated. When she felt his stare she looked up from the passage with an amused smirk.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said hastily, having forgotten himself. "Nothing at all." Valentina smiled to herself.

They read on in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she added, "You know, you could never be a monster as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he said flatly.

"I mean it," she persisted. "I don't know who you were in the time before we met, but what I see is someone who has the ability to show kindness and compassion, even when that person deserves absolutely none of it, and can't even begin to find a way to express her gratitude. I remember everything that's happened tonight.

"Everything?" He raised an eyebrow.

She blushed slightly. "Yes. Everything. You saved that kid from me, I saw you. You did something for the greater good, something heroic. Boogeyman or not, you are no monster, Pitch Black."

"That's a charming sentiment," he chuckled humourlessly, "but you'll forgive me if I have trouble agreeing with you."

"You don't have to agree," she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "you just have to listen."

It happened slowly and then all at once. As she gazed into to his haunted eyes in the hope that he would not only hear, but believe what she said, she saw the soul within and she longed to know it. Without conscious thought of what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him gently, which left Pitch almost as dazed and confused as she'd been earlier.

"What… what was that for?"

"It was a thank you," she justified quietly with a coquettish smile.

"Well in that case, my dear," he purred, running a caressing hand along her jawline and cupping her cheek, "you are very welcome."

He allowed himself to meet her deep green eyes once more, and was ensnared by a nagging familiarity that persisted until something occurred to him.

"Valentina," Pitch began, but couldn't seem to finish. She was anticipating a follow up sentence and looked at him expectantly as he hesitated. "What are your thoughts of the name Kozmotis?"

She gave a half laugh at the odd question. "I think you might need to slow down there for a second."

The greyish tone of his cheeks darkened slightly. "I mean," he clarified upon becoming flustered, "have you ever heard that name before?"

Valentina frowned, racking her brain for a meaning to the foreign string of syllables and came up with nothing. "I'm sorry, Pitch, I don't think I have. Why do you ask?"

"You said it in your sleep."

Her eyes grew wide as saucers. "But how? I've never heard it before in my life."

"That was what I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

She hummed thoughtfully, concentrating. "I did have the strangest dream, though," she told him.

"And what would that be?"

"I don't remember seeing anything exactly I just felt like I'd lost something very important. I can't think for the life of me what it could have been though." Her mouth set in a tight line as she considered the troubling feeling and she groaned in frustration. "I don't get it. Ever since I took that Oath I've had nothing but trouble coming at me from every direction. I just wish things could be simpler right now."

"What?" Pitch stared at her as a disquieting expression darkened his face. "You've taken the Oath already?"

"Yes?" she replied uncertainly, "I thought that was a given. Why wouldn't I have?"

"You really one of them. You're a Guardian."

"Seriously, if that tiny detail is going to change your entire perception of me that quickly then obviously you haven't listened to a word I've said," she started angrily.

"No. No, it's not that," he interrupted, and flipped through the Book of Guardian Law, to find the index.

"Then what is it?" Valentina asked in agitation.

Pitch read frantically through the list. "I didn't realise. How could I have so blindly assumed…" he muttered. "I've been looking in the wrong section."

In a blur, he reopened the pages to a spot that was a source of both relief and sheer dread. "Breaking the Oath of the Guardian", it read. And there, in striking detail, was an illustration of a hand eerily similar to that of Valentina's own.