Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. If I did, there would be new episodes every week and no break over the summer. Boo, summer!

Thanks so much to FauxMaven and to my husand for helping me with this chapter.

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The morning was cool and calm when she awoke. Mixed with the birdsong was the sound of their fellow hikers quietly getting ready to resume their journey. Brennan lay in her sleeping bag, not entirely comfortable, but she could definitely think of worse places to be on an early Thursday morning. She rolled over in her sleeping bag to face Booth. He was sound asleep on his side, one arm under his head, the other stretched out towards her. He was still handsome in his sleep, though the intensity she had first fallen for was gone, replaced by a contentedness that she had only become familiar with in the last few months. She could grow used to waking up like this.

"Stop staring at me, it's creeping me out," Booth murmured, eyes still closed.

Brennan froze. Did he know? "I'm not staring at you."

He cracked open an eye and she hurriedly rolled onto her back. He chuckled, his voice deep and rough with sleep. She lay still for a minute, mildly embarrassed at having been caught ogling him. When she finally sat up, she felt a fresh twinge of pain from her stomach. She lifted her shirt and peeled back the bandage, peering at her wound. Next to her, Booth sat up, looking at her anxiously.

"How is it?" he asked.

"I'll live. I need a fresh bandage, though." She moved to get up but before she could finish unzipping her bag, he was on his feet and heading toward their packs.

"I'll get it, lay back down and let me take care of it."

"Booth—" she began.

"No, you better listen to me or I'll have to tickle you," he grinned. "I know how much you like that. Besides, you can make breakfast."

She laughed and relented. When he knelt beside her, she lifted up her shirt rather higher than necessary and smiled shyly at Booth. She knew she was being coy but couldn't help herself. He was gentle in his ministrations; the alcohol he dabbed on her skin barely stung this time. She was disappointed that he didn't blow across her skin as before—that had been unexpectedly erotic. As he applied the bandage, he let his fingers dance lightly across her side and she squirmed and laughed.

"Hey, I let you do your thing, you weren't supposed to tickle," she complained.

Booth smirked at her. "Oh, you wanted it, admit it."

"I did not. You shouldn't presume to know what I want," she told him as she wriggled out of her sleeping bag.

"Hah. I know exactly what you want."

He stood toe to toe with her, his chest only inches away from hers. Her eyes flicked to his lips, turned up in an easy smile that was belied by the intensity in his eyes. She wanted desperately to feel his lips again, to taste him, to feel his body pressed against hers. She knew he wanted it, too, and if she said the right thing, it would happen.

But instead, she said, "You do not."

A flicker passed through his eyes, and as he took a small step back, he raised a finger to point at her.

"I do too."

The intensity was gone and now his lightheartedness was genuine. She regretted the loss of the moment, but it hadn't seemed the right time and she didn't want to have the memory of another bad kiss. The sound of laughter stopped Brennan from continuing the argument. They turned to find their fellow hikers, Danielle and Rob, watching them, obviously amused.

"You two look like a couple of kids got crushes on each other," Rob commented.

To her husband, Danielle said, "I bet he's gonna pull her hair next."

Booth and Brennan glanced at each other. Normally she would have strenuously denied any romantic connection between them, but she sensed that her words would sound too false just then. Booth saved her from having to come up with a reply by laughing and rolling his eyes at her.

"If I did that, she'd kick my ass," he told Danielle.

While Booth changed into clean clothes, Brennan started breakfast. She put water on to boil and poured packets of cinnamon oatmeal into their plastic bowls. She found a green apple in their food stores, cut half of it into cubes and the rest she sliced. Once the water was boiling, she poured it into their bowls and stirred. She topped the oatmeal with the cubed apple and took a crisp slice to munch on while she waited for Booth. Before long, he appeared striding up the trail that led to the water source. His hair was damp and ruffled, his face freshly scrubbed. He wore the same pair of jeans as yesterday but his t-shirt was new and Brennan admired the way it stretched across his chest.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"I will once I eat." He peered at the bowl of oatmeal she held out for him. "Hey, I thought we were having pancakes and bacon."

"Very funny."

"You know it."

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The Trail stretched ahead, winding its way across ridges and through gaps, affording spectacular views interspersed with the endless green backdrop. Every time Brennan turned a corner she was faced with more woods, a fact that she imagined would get discouraging for a lot of through-hikers. She loved hiking but the monotony would surely get to her if she were at it for more than a week. They plodded on toward the spots on their maps that indicated patches of Trillium cernuum. Occasionally she or Booth would get ahead of the other, but they tried their best to stay close.

They reached the first growth of the plant midmorning. Booth spotted it first, pointing out the white flowers hanging from the underside of clusters of vivid green leaves. They both set down their packs and while Booth surveyed the area, Brennan retrieved her forensic light source from her pack. She swept the light over the plants and the ground surrounding the plants extensively but found nothing. Even after widening her search area, she still didn't come up with anything. After checking that Booth had been unsuccessful at finding evidence as well, they moved on. She was mildly discouraged but hoped they'd have better luck at the next site.

It was nearing noon when Brennan decided she needed a break to empty her bladder. Booth was a few steps behind her and when she stopped, he nearly ran into her.

"We just stopped a half hour ago, Bones. Tired already?" he teased.

"I have to pee. Is that okay with you, or should I wait for the next designated break?" she bit back.

"Okay, okay. I could go, too." Booth moved to drop his pack on the ground, but she stopped him.

"Uh-uh, you go on ahead. I'd like some privacy, if you don't mind."

Booth groaned. "Come on, Bones."

She stared at him, waiting for him to give in. With a grumble, Booth resumed walking. She waited until he was out of sight, then unshouldered her pack. It hit the ground with a satisfying thud and she savored the relief of being unburdened. Brennan moved off into the woods, stepping gingerly through the underbrush, watching out for any of the various rash-inducing plants. That was all she needed. She stopped while still in sight of the Trail—she was experienced enough to know the folly of wandering too deep into the forest. It was ridiculously easy to get lost, even though one would think it would be a simple enough task to walk in a straight line, then turn around to head back.

When she stepped back onto the trail, she saw another hiker heading her way. Grateful that he hadn't come by a few minutes earlier, she smiled at him as she picked up her pack. The man paused when he reached her and returned her smile. He adjusted his glasses repeatedly as they exchanged the usual pleasantries, asking about weather forecasts, the difficulty of the Trail ahead, all the topics that lonely hikers usually brought up. When she thought she had been polite enough, she excused herself and headed down the trail towards Booth. She found him sitting next to his pack, waiting for her.

"Everything come out okay, Bones?" he grinned.

Brennan rolled her eyes at him and waited while he shouldered his pack. He groaned at the weight of it and she smirked.

"If that's getting too heavy for you, I can carry it for a while."

"Very funny," he muttered.

They still had about a half hour's walk until they would reach the next growth of Trillium cernuum. Brennan let her mind wander as they walked, and as usual, her thoughts turned to Booth. She wasn't sure she was right to forgive Booth for his indecision, fear, or whatever it was. She knew she should ask him why he hesitated, but she was afraid of what he might say. Now that she had decided she wanted to pursue a romantic involvement with Booth, it seemed that it would be her luck for something to go horribly wrong. Of course, she didn't really believe in bad luck—it was irrational, unscientific, and illogical. But the part of her brain that was more at home in the caves at Lascaux than Washington, D.C. argued that luck was a very real force.

Her stomach rumbled. They had eaten energy bars as a snack at their earlier break, but Booth set a fast pace and she was sure she had quickly burned through the calories the bar had given her. Her legs and back ached from the strain of carrying her pack while trying to keep up. If it weren't for the sweat seeping through his shirt, she would hardly know that Booth was working as hard as she was. Booth stopped to reach back to grab one of the water bottles tucked into the side pockets on his pack. He popped open the cap and took several long swallows. For a moment Brennan was entranced with the way the muscles in his arm stood out against the fabric of his shirt and the way his throat moved while he swallowed.

She cleared her throat. "Booth, don't drink your water too fast."

He lowered the bottle from his lips and looked at her. "Why?"

"Because you don't want to run out of water," she sighed, exasperated. "What if there isn't another water source until the shelter?"

"I'm way ahead of ya, Bones," he told her as he pulled a creased map from his pocket. He tapped it with the water bottle. "There's a stream just before we get to the Trillium."

Brennan's brow creased slightly, a little disappointed that she hadn't thought to check for water sources on the map as well. Booth chuckled and winked at her.

"Hey, thanks for worrying about me, though. Didn't know you cared so much, I'm touched." He grinned as he took another sip before replacing the bottle back in his pack. Unfortunately, he missed the glare she threw at him.

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Shortly after replenishing their water at what barely counted as a water source, Booth and Brennan arrived at the coordinates for the next patch of Trillium cernuum. It was a nondescript section of trail, the same trees and bushes as anywhere else. They dropped their packs and looked around, trying to spot the plant they needed, but there was nothing. Brennan glanced at Booth, a slightly worried look on her face.

"It's probably farther into the woods," he told her. "Don't worry, we'll find it."

They took opposite sides of the path and began making wide sweeps of the land, searching carefully for even a hint of Trillium cernuum. Brennan kept her eyes on the ground as she moved. They needed to find this plant—they had too few clues on this case as it was, even with seven bodies to examine. Before they had left the day before, Cam had taken her aside and stressed the fact that they needed to solve this case quickly. It had apparently attracted more than normal media attention and the Jeffersonian wanted to look good.

She nearly passed by the crumpled-looking plant barely holding itself off the ground, but she happened to notice a hint of white peeking out from under one of the crushed leaves. She crouched down, pulled on a pair of gloves, and gently lifted up the plant. There was the white flower and the leaves were abruptly pointed, just like those of Trillium cernuum. She had found it.

"Booth!" she called. "Over here! Grab my light source; it's in my pack."

While she waited for him, she examined the surrounding area. She was well removed from the trail—about as far away as she'd go if she needed to relieve herself, she noted. A cluster of immature Trillium stood nearby, but she couldn't see anything that might pass as evidence other than the plants themselves. After a few minutes she realized Booth was still rummaging through the pack, making rather more noise than seemed necessary and muttering curses. She headed back towards the trail and when she got close enough to see him properly, she stopped, baffled.

The contents of his pack were spread across the ground. Food lay discarded, the first aid kit had been dumped out, and it looked like Booth had tossed his spare clothes over his shoulder and onto a bush behind him. He glanced up at her, then resumed digging through the pack.

"I can't find your damn thing!" he complained.

"Booth," she started, unsure of what was going on. "My light source is in my pack."

"I know. Christ, Bones, do you think I'm stupid?"

"That's your pack, Booth, not mine."

Booth paused, then looked up at her. He was still crouched in front of his pack. "What are you talking about?"

Brennan moved closer to him, concerned. "That's not mine," she said slowly.

"It's not?" he said, blinking deliberately. He gazed down at the pack in front of him, then collapsed backwards into a sitting position. He looked puzzled. She approached him cautiously, not so much out of fear, but because she didn't want to alarm him. Kneeling in front of him, she took a quick appraisal of his condition. She noted that his pupils were dilated and that he looked a little pale. He had no obvious injuries, but he was confused and maybe a little off balance. What happened in the few minutes that had passed while they were looking for the Trillium?

"Bones, I don't..." he trailed off. After a moment, he looked up at her and his eyes seemed slightly out of focus. "I can't, you know, think. Something's wrong."

"That's obvious. How do you feel? Did you eat something?"

Booth stared at his knees and she started to think that he wasn't going to answer. Then he wrapped his arms around his stomach and groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick," he mumbled.

"You need to tell me if you ate something," she urged him as she moved away from where she thought he might turn if he vomited. She was starting to feel more than just worried. It seemed unlikely that Booth would have eaten some poisonous berries but his symptoms indicated something of the sort.

"Eat? No, I didn't eat anything," he snorted derisively. His expression changed quickly from irritation to concern. "I don't, uh, know what happened," he paused for a few moments. "I think I've been drugged." He sounded like he almost didn't believe it himself.

"Drugged?" She was unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"Yeah, I do know what that feels like," he mumbled.

"How did you get drugged?" she asked, confused. She didn't recall anyone having the opportunity to drug him.

"Remember those fractures in my feet? They drugged me, too, but they didn't have to sneak—"

"Booth!" she cut him off. "Now, I'm talking about now. How did you get drugged this time?"

"How the hell should I know?" Booth groaned again, clutching his stomach.

Brennan stared at him, unsure of what to do. Obviously they needed help. She didn't know if this was something mild or something that would prove deadly. She still didn't understand how he could have been poisoned, and started to wonder if soon she'd be coming down with similar symptoms. At another moan from Booth she chided herself for just sitting around. She was tough, she could handle this. First things first—she needed to call for help.

She stood and moved towards her pack. Her cell phone was in the top pocket and she flipped it open, thumbing it on. As she waited for it to find a signal, Booth suddenly scrambled onto his hands and knees and propelled himself towards the underbrush at the side of the trail. She dropped the phone onto her pack and rushed over to him just as he began retching. She was familiar with taking care of Angela after she had too much to drink, but Booth had no hair to hold away from his face. Instead she placed her hand on his back and rubbed gentle circles over the damp cotton of his shirt. When he seemed done, she helped him to move back towards the trail.

"Let me get you some water," she offered. She picked up his water bottle off the ground and brought it to his lips. Cool, clear water trickled into his mouth before she realized her stupidity. She pulled the bottle away and stared at it, horrified. It could very well be the water that was poisoned. He'd just had some shortly before getting sick.

"Come on, Bones, I need some more."

"Booth, I think it's the water," she explained. Understanding passed across his eyes and he nodded. He seemed to be concentrating on something. She felt terrible for giving him more water.

"My gun," he said. Brennan stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Take it, in my ankle holster." She obliged quickly then looked at him questioningly. "I can't think, if, uh, you know..." he paused, frowning.

"If the killer comes back?" she offered.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I don't know if I can protect you." The idea of him protecting her in his state seemed almost absurd, but she was touched that he was concerned for her safety while he was so obviously distressed himself.

"I'm going to call for help. You stay here," she instructed him.

"I don't think anyone's gonna hear you, Bones," he sighed dramatically.

She glanced at him warily, then rose to fetch her cell phone. She fervently hoped she'd be able to get reception. Before she reached her phone, she noticed another hiker coming around the bend. She breathed a sigh of relief at having someone to help her with Booth. She gave him a wave in welcome.

"Need some help?" the man called to her. It must look very strange, coming upon a man collapsed on the ground and a woman standing amid the scattered contents of a pack.

"My partner's sick," she told him.

"Your partner?"

"Yes, he's FBI. I'm going to call 911, then I'll need help getting him to the shelter," she said.

In her state of near-panic, she hadn't recognized the man right away. But as she crouched toward her phone on the ground, Brennan froze, remembering. She looked up at him sharply.

"You're the man I passed a half hour ago," she accused.

She could see him hesitate. "Oh, that's right. Sorry I didn't recognize you, don't have my glasses on," he smiled. She recalled him incessantly adjusting his glasses; she could see them poking out of his breast pocket.

"But you were heading south," she said. "Why did you come back here?" She felt she knew the answer, but didn't want to make a snap judgment and be wrong. Booth was the one with intuition, not her, and right now he was looking back and forth between the two of them, seeming not to comprehend what they were saying.

The man unbuckled the straps on his pack and lowered his gear to the ground. His smile seemed to be frozen on his face and she felt her spine tingle.

"I can help," he offered. "I'll get him off the trail. Without our packs, we can make it back much quicker. I can even carry him some of the way if need be." He did look capable of such a feat. The man was about Booth's height and much broader in the shoulders and chest.

Brennan shook her head at him and took a step backwards as he had stopped just a few short feet away from her. Something shifted in his eyes and Brennan felt rather than saw the man's walking stick swing up from his side, aimed towards her head. She managed to duck just enough that the blow of the wood to her head was only glancing, though in her quick movement, she fell backwards over the sleeping bag she hadn't noticed behind her.

On her side, lying half atop the damned sleeping bag, she saw him standing over her, walking stick raised above his head. She lashed out with her foot and connected with the side of his knee, causing his leg to buckle. As he stumbled, she scrambled to her feet. She pulled the gun from her waistband and aimed it at the man.

"You need to stop right there," she told him, flicking the safety off. Adrenaline had flooded her system for what felt like the hundredth time in a scant ten minutes and she felt shaky, twitchy, ready to burst with energy.

The man gazed at her, a skeptical smirk marring his features. "And what's a pretty little lady like you gonna do with that?" he asked.

"Booth, I need your handcuffs," she called, hoping that he would be able to find them in the mess.

She glanced over in his direction and was surprised to see Booth get to his feet, holding a wicked-looking knife. Her eyes fixed briefly on the blade, almost four inches long, curved on the top and partially serrated. This was no Swiss Army knife. What alarmed her most of all was the way Booth was swaying unsteadily on his feet, and the way he squinted at her, then the killer, then back to her.

Without warning, she felt a sharp blow across her chest and shoulder. The man had flung his walking stick at her while she was distracted with Booth. As she stumbled backwards, tripping once again over the wretched sleeping bag, she saw him run off down the trail then veer into the forest. To her horror, Booth gave chase.

"Booth!" she screamed. "Stop!"

She struggled to her feet, watching Booth stagger down the trail. Visions of him falling and impaling himself on that terrible knife popped into her head. Once on her feet, she took off after him, calling his name urgently. As if in slow motion, she saw his feet slip from under him. His arms flailed outwards then he pulled them in front of him. He toppled to the ground. Her breath caught.

When she reached him she flung him over onto his back, hastily searching for blood. There was nothing, he only looked dazed.

"Booth, where's the knife?" she urged.

"What knife?" he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes at him and glanced around. She found the knife sitting a few feet away and picked it up. After examining it briefly, she folded the blade into the handle and helped Booth to his feet. She glanced into the forest where the man had run off but saw nothing.

"Coulda got him, Bones," Booth said.

Brennan hummed absently as she focused on getting him back to their gear. She held his arm with one hand and guided him with her other arm slung around his back, her hand on his hip. There were so many things that needed to be done to effect their rescue and she felt overwhelmed. She tried to be alert in case the killer returned, but it was difficult with a full grown man stumbling and bumping into her while muttering nonsensical phrases.

After what seemed like an exceedingly long walk, she deposited Booth next to their packs. She needed to call for help first, that much was clear. After retrieving her phone, she dialed 911 and waited anxiously for the call to go through. When the operator came on the phone, she gave them as much information about their location and Booth's condition as she could. After much stressing of the point that he was an FBI agent who was injured in the line of duty, that she had no idea how severe his condition was, and that there was a serial killer lurking in the woods probably hoping to come back and finish them off, she was informed that the Shenandoah Mountain Rescue Group would be dispatched immediately. It would take them several hours to organize the effort and then to actually reach them.

Brennan disconnected the call and surveyed the scene before her. She needed to come up with a plan, a set of priorities. She still hadn't searched the patch of Trillium cernuum for DNA evidence, that was high on her list. Booth's safety was also paramount, and at the moment he was sitting relatively still, holding his stomach and groaning. She hoped that continued vomiting would help lessen the symptoms, although that would lead to dehydration. Well, while he was fairly calm she could sweep the area with her forensic light source. She located her light and squatted down in front of Booth.

"Booth, listen to me." She waited for him to look at her, but he didn't. She slipped her finger under his chin and tilted his head until he looked her in the eyes. "I need to go into the woods for a minute. Can you stay right here?"

He nodded at her, though his eyes looked out of focus. She figured it was the best she was going to get.

As she moved off the trail, the weight of the knife in her pocket and the clammy metal of the gun at the small of her back comforted her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but that didn't mean she liked being in situations were she needed to be on the defensive. When she flicked on the light source and aimed it at the Trillium, she was momentarily shocked to see huge splotches of purple light covering the branches and surrounding area. But then she thought of Booth's vomiting and had her explanation. She collected several leaves and branches as evidence and turned to head back.

Even from well within the woods, she could see Booth crouched in front of his pack, searching through it. What was he looking for now? She jogged towards him, careful not to trip. She saw him rise abruptly and turn toward her, pointing another gun vaguely in her direction. She froze. He squinted into the woods, clearly having a hard time distinguishing her from the trees at this distance.

"I can't let you hurt her," he called out. He glanced to his left, then to his right. "Bones? Where'd you go?"

She stepped toward him, but at the sound of underbrush crackling under her feet, he swung the gun back toward her.

"Booth, it's me," she told him, trying to keep her voice calm.

He leaned forward, straining to see her. "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth. Put the gun down so I can come back to help you."

"But the killer's out here. I heard him."

She groaned quietly. Why could he never listen to her? "Booth, the killer's gone. Put the gun down. You don't want to shoot me by accident, do you?"

"No," he said simply, though he didn't move.

She was rapidly losing her patience. "The gun, Booth."

Booth glance down at the gun in his hand. "Oh, right." He dropped it to the ground carelessly and plopped down next to it.

When she was back on the trail, she picked up the gun and glared at him. "You almost shot me," she grumbled. He didn't seem to hear her.

Her next move wasn't so clear. Conventional wisdom was to stay in one spot if awaiting rescue, but she didn't like the idea of staying here when she didn't know where the killer was. Her instinct was to get them to a shelter where she might be able to better defend them both. There might be other people there, too, discouraging the killer from coming after them.

The problem was, she had three packs and a woozy FBI agent who couldn't carry anything. She needed to bring some of their supplies, and she didn't want to leave the killer's pack here. She supposed she could carry the essentials in her pack and perhaps drag the killer's behind her. She'd have to leave the majority of Booth's gear behind, but it couldn't be helped. Booth was quiet for now, thankfully. She wondered if he had any more weapons on him—that second gun had surprised her.

"Booth?"

He hummed in response.

"Do you have any other weapons?" she asked.

"Lots," he said, and began rattling off a long list. After a moment of alarm, she realized he couldn't possibly have all this on him. Maybe he was being literal.

"Okay, which weapons did you bring with you?"

"The two guns and my knife," he answered.

Reassured, she set about sorting through their gear. She could ditch the vast majority of what they had brought with them, barring the items from her forensics kit. Into her pack she stuffed Booth's spare clothes, their toilet paper, a loop of rope, a ground cover, and some of the cheese they had brought as well as an energy bar. She didn't bother packing any food for Booth, figuring he wouldn't be able to hold it down. She picked up their first aid kits to compare them and searched for something she might be able to give Booth to ease his symptoms. The anti-nausea medication was not an option as it would probably be better for him to vomit. She found a packet of anti-diarrheal medication and contemplated it. Well, he hadn't shown any signs of increased gastric motility, but it seemed a likely progression. She tossed him the packet and instructed him to swallow the pills.

He struggled with the packet. She knelt in front of him to help him and as she ripped the packaging open, he clutched his stomach and groaned. Her eyes widened in alarm as he leaned forward and vomited. It splattered spectacularly, soaking through her pants to her knees. She stared at the mess in frustration. When she looked up at him, she found him glaring at her.

"You got in my way," he accused.

"I did not, Booth," she complained. "I was helping you."

"I don't need your help," he said petulantly.

Brennan clenched her jaw, struggling to stay calm. She held out her palm, offering him the two tablets. He snatched them from her and glared. She thought of giving him the water bottle out of spite but restrained herself. He'd have to swallow them dry.

At that thought, she emptied out all their bottles of water. Booth swore at her vehemently. She couldn't blame him; it was a risky decision, but she couldn't be sure that they weren't contaminated as well. The shelter was only three miles away, and even with them moving slowly, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. If they were very lucky, she might find another hiker to help carry the packs, letting them get there more quickly.

She needed to change her clothes and hesitated to do so in front of Booth. Remembering the last time she left him alone, she decided not to risk it. Before pulling off her pants, she retrieved an evidence bag and collected some of the vomitus. Beside her, Booth snickered.

"Once a squint, always, uh, you know..." he trailed off.

"Always a squint?" she suggested, sighing deeply.

"Yeah, that's it."

She peeled off her pants and quickly pulled on new ones. Booth didn't seem to notice and she was grateful. She finished packing quickly, tossing into the pack their empty water bottles, a flashlight, the knife, one of the guns, and all of Booth's spare ammunition. She also decided to bring the better of the two sleeping bags and her tent. Their discarded gear lay in a pile on the trail and she contemplated it for a moment before shoving it into the other pack. She carried it well off the trail and left it near the patch of Trillium cernuum. After adjusting the straps on the killer's pack so she could more easily drag it, she hoisted her backpack onto her shoulders and prodded Booth.

"Time to go," she said.

"Time to go where?" He looked up at her from where he sat on the ground.

She held out her hand and he took it without question. She managed to pull him to his feet and indicated the trail ahead of them.

"To your succor," she said simply.