Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)


JPOV

My heart caught in my chest as I begged myself to be dreaming. This had to be a dream - it could not be real…

I was numb: no feeling ran through my body, no emotion that I could place. The betrayal ran deep, so deep that I knew it would never leave me.

Or indeed anyone else.

"Mom…" Harriet's voice came out as broken note of disbelief.

But Julia remained indifferent, turning to Abuela she readdressed her leader. "I have kept up my end of the bargain."

Abuela smiled. "That you have, Madre." and with that she relinquished Harriet. Harriet fell to the floor in a bundle, before she picked herself up and shuffled back to where we were lined up. The dhampirs holding Emyl back had let him go, but he wasn't moving anywhere: stunned to the point of idleness, it seemed to be a growing epidemic.

"Harriet, come here, darling." Julia said, extending her arm out.

Harriet looked at her mother with no little disgust. "How could you?" her words escaped the confines of her lips as a broken whisper such that I doubted if she noticed she had spoken.

"Harriet, now is not the time, come here." she said, the authority in her voice unmistakable.

"How could you!?" Harriet shouted, this time with greater conviction as she scooted further away from her mother.

Julia's anger could contain itself no longer. "Because the world we live in is wrong." Julia snapped. "Because we sent people to their deaths every day and call it the way of our world: for the preservation of our society. Well, if that is the society we are preserving, I want no part in it. Do you know, when your father died - having served this pathetic, tyrannical regime all his life - do you know how many turned up to the funeral? Not even half of the people invited. Why do you ask? Because the Ivashkovs were throwing a party. They could not stop for one second to honour a life; instead, they'd rather waste theirs." her expression was clouded and dark. "At least here we understand the value of life."

The room was silent. I saw as Abuela smiled and I felt the bile rise within me. Harriet, for her part, remained frozen; through watered eyes, she watched her mother as though looking at her for the first time. "That woman…" she mustered the courage to speak, nodding towards Abuela as she did. "That woman just shot an innocent man in cold blood, and you want me to believe she understands the value of life?"

Julia's expression faltered before hardening again. "Every revolution has sacrifices."

"Sacrifices! That was murder!" Harriet screamed, pointing towards Matthias' corpse. "You have been blinded by your grief." she said, her words coming out in strangled sobs.

"No." Julia replied. "I have been enlightened…"

It was then that Harriet realised there was no reasoning. Julia, in her grief, had been taken and manipulated by the psychopath that stood beside her into being Julia Conta no more: she was Madre- a mere cog in the clockwork of this cursed community.

And Abuela? She had no remorse. "Not to interrupt your little family reunion, but I'd rather like to get on with my interrogation." she said, very much interrupting.
Julia turned her head towards her and nodded. "You may, but my daughter does not know anything." she said.

Abuela paused. "Yet she makes for excellent leverage."

Julia blinked, a frown coming over a features. "You said you would leave her alone." there was a certain edge to her tone: a naivety that broke my heart further. I closed my eyes; I could not bare it, for Julia Conta had no idea how used and abused she had been and how little power she had in that moment against Abuela.

"You said she would come willingly." was Abuela's cold and frank response.

Julia blinked again. "And she will: Harriet, come here." she said, turning to her daughter again.

"I do not think she wants to, Julia." Abuela pointed out, a mocking lily lacing her words.

"She can be persuaded." Julia snapped.

"No." Both Julia and Abuela turned to face Harriet, the latter looking with sinister victory while the former looked on in confusion. "I will not submit to the will of a criminal. I am a free person with a mind, intellect and will of my own, and I will not be pushed around by either of you." she said, shuffling back more so that she now fully sat in our line, beside an crippled Emyl, a barely conscious Vincent, a beaten Ibrahim and a wounded me. Yet, even with the option of an out presented before her, she was resolved: "I would rather die."

Whatever Julia was about to say was cut off by the sound of footsteps running into the hall, the owner: a young dhampir with a very panicked expression.

"Abuela, estamos bajo ataque!"

HPOV

A few hours ago

I sat with head hung over the chair: a feeble attempt at stretching out the kinks in my neck which had developed as a result of excessive strain. I closed my eyes and took a breath; scents of computing, sweat and caffeine filled me and kept me chained to consciousness.

It had been a long day.

"Yo, boss. Sleeping on the job?"

I opened an eye and glared over at the ever-witty Guardian Andrew Harrison. "I am aware that ordinary procedure is out the window, but could you try to remain a least a little professional, Harrison."

"Sorry, sir." the guardian replied, though, of course, not meaning a word of it. I hummed and leaned forward again, readdressing the screens that lay before. "You know, my grandmother you to say if you stared at a screen for too long, your eyes would go square."

"Harrison."

"Yes, sir?"

"Not helpful."

"Sorry, sir." Again, not in any way sincere.

It had been a very long day: we had managed, in the space of twenty-four hours, to acquire forty new residents at the safe haven and had also managed to lose contact with our Istanbul squad. While the former had me up half the night attempting to register and fit them all in, the latter gave me cause for greatest concern. I did not wish to, but I had to doubt the abilities of Guardians Burlatsky and Hathaway, given their infancy in the world outside of their education. Five months does not an expert make; even as exceptional as I perceived them to be, it was perhaps too much to send them off on their own. It was a calculated move, made in a moments thought. I knew the capabilities of Mazur and was astounded to learn of abilities of the so named 'Charles Windsor' (a quick Google regarding the current British monarchy leading me to conclude that this was perhaps not his actual name). Yet something was wrong, and I had a strong suspicion what it was.

So lost I was in my thoughts that I forgot that Harrison was still standing there. As blissful as it was that he was quiet, I had a feeling that he wanted to talk. Ceasing my typing, I spun around in my chair to face the man. "Can I help you, Harrison."

"Depends. Do you have $200?"

"Harrison."

"Sorry, sir." a wide grin spread across his face. "We've got some good news…"

"Sir, Mexico has been shut down-Oh, hey Drew." Guardian Gwynn exclaimed as she bounded through the door. (Without knocking, I might add).

Harrison glared over at her, throwing his arms in the air. "Ruth! I was literally just about to tell him!"

Gwynn crossed her arms across her chest."You've been in here fifteen minutes. What were you doing: writing a sonnet?"

"If I may," I said, interrupting the pair before they could take this any further. "Are you saying that the Mexican assault was a success." I asked, wishing to be absolutely clear before doing anything else.

Gwynn nodded while Harrison continued to look disgruntled. "Yes, sir. When they finally managed to pin the place, Reynolds was in and out - nice and clean, sir." Gwynn informed me.

I nodded. Well, at least there was some good news. "Excellent. Gather the others, we can now start considering an attack on Court."

"Have you heard anything from Hathaway yet?" Gwynn asked, her usual professionalism on show, but the concern there was clear.

I inhaled deeply before sighing. "Unfortunately not, I think we can assume the worst."

"Maybe this can work in our favour." Both Gwynn and myself shot Harrison a rather disapproving look. Taking in both our expressions, he decided to elaborate. "Well, no, what I meant by that is Mazur. He had that tracking thingy which he stuck in his shoe after they blow-up what-his-face's house."

"Hamlet." Gwynn corrected.

Harrison sent her a glare. "Anyway," he said, "We could use it to pinpoint his location which will tell us either where they are keeping the prisoners or, if we're really lucky, where the big dogs are."

I looked over at Harrison and wondered just how exactly it was possible for someone to go from being a complete idiot to an utter genius in the space of a few seconds. "Harrison, well done. You may have just cracked this." I could see the beginnings of a smug expression form on his face which he was no doubt going to use against Gwynn. "Don't spoil it." I said before he had the chance.

"Sorry, sir."

I rolled my eyes and gestured for them to follow. Gathering our team together, we locked onto Mazur's location and planned our attack...

JPOV

The reaction was instantaneous. Abuela snapped her head up and spun,completely ignoring Julia, to face Tio and the other dhampirs, who were all looking towards the new entry to the room with no little surprise. She, clearly angered by their hesitant and almost fearful expressions, began hissing order in rapid Spanish and suddenly the whole room was in motion. The dhampirs that had littered the walls of the room had bolted into action - headed for the great doors, they ran to dispatch Abuela's orders among the lower ranks. Abuela for her part, was like a machine - rapidly conveying pieces of data to every and all output media. She may have started in Spanish, but switched effortlessly between it and English depending to whom she spoke to. Finally, she addressed Julia, who had been waiting patiently for Abuela's command.

"Make sure they don't leave." she said, slowly and dangerously. Julia nodded and accepted the gun that was presented to her as Abuela gave another order before disappearing through one of the guardian entrances. She flicked it towards us, gesturing us to move to the side.

"Move." she said as if her actions were not clear enough. We, with our broken bodies began slowly shuffling towards the side, but soon halted. "Why have you stopped!?" Julia said, attempting to sound threatening, but it only came out desperate.

"He is unconscious." Harriet snapped, gesturing towards Vincent who stirred slightly on the ground, moaning softly as he slowly returned to the conscious world.

Julia looked over towards Vincent, her expression frowned and conflicting. "Well...wake him up. Do it." She said. Harriet tore her gaze away from her mother, the heartbreak clear in her eyes. She gently shook Vincent, but to no success, yet the look in her eyes told us that she had not the will power to shake him further. Ibrahim decided to take a leaf out of my book and bucked: kicking him with his foot to help him along.

"Ow." the Brit moaned as his eyes fluttered open.

"Wake up, mate." Ibrahim said as Vincent groaned again.

With Julia's attention diverted, I seized the opportunity and dredged up all the strength I had and snapped the plastic cuffs that kept my hands pinned behind me. Inspecting my palm, I saw the hole through it where Abuela's heel had dug and winced again. My wrists also bled as a result of my snapping the cuffs, but I bit back the pain and assessed my chances against Julia. The dhampirs around us had scattered into a defensive position, surrounding the open doors which lead out through the main body of the Court. While Julia was not alone in the room, she had no discernible back-up.

And so I exploited it.

In one swift move I swung my legs and slammed then into Julia's. The effect was instant: she yelped and dropped the firearm. Pushing myself forward, I claimed it before she could move. My hand still wept with the pain of Abuela's mark, but one hand was enough to hold the weapon up.

Upon seeing my assault, the other made a move. Ibrahim kicked Vincent again, fully waking him from his haze, while Emyl forced himself through the pain to nudge Harriet out of her despair. Her eyes still watered at the sight of her cowering mother, but with a shaky breath, she resolved neither to pity nor to hate as neither would do her any good. That all shoved themselves towards the side, away from the exposure of the centre. I cocked the gun with the back of my injured hand.

The room flooded again - members of La Luz descending upon the hall like a biblical plague. Ibrahim had Vincent around his neck as he dragged his groggy body behind my defense where Harriet and Emyl resided. With Emyl incapacitated, Harriet took what would have been his place beside me; the determination unwavering in her eyes - I knew it would be fruitless to deter her.

As more frightened faces came into the room, desperately looking for the leader the had vanished from the battle, I realised that La Luz were nowhere near as structured as we believed. Their fearsome reputation was just a mere facade: built on only rumour and prejudice, rather than actual substance.

The hope within me dared to flutter and provoke a smile at the thought. It was at that moment that Tio returned to the room. Glaring towards the scattered members, he barked what I thought were instructions, but later transpired to be just anger, in enraged Spanish. He caught sight of Julia and me standing over her; his eyes widened and a growl escaped his lips, but before he could reach us, he was hit with a new wave of people, only this one was not La Luz…

Guardians.

Tio found himself pulled to the ground, restrained and going nowhere, and from behind him the head of Drew Harrison poked up. "Storm!" he called out. "You alright, mate?"

I smiled. I had never been so happy to see him.

And with Drew came Ruth and all the other guardians that had fled from Court, ending with Guardian Croft. The man was a little worse for ware, but certainly fared better than we did. With the members of La Luz slowly finding themselves first outnumbered and then apprehended, the chaos around us died down. Croft looked over towards us and nodded, before turning to address another guardian. I stepped towards Julia, picking her up and holding her arms behind her back. She looked around herself in fear, as though her whole world was just melting around her. Even then, I felt pity towards the woman - manipulated through her vulnerability only to now live out the rest of her days in a cell. I could see the despair in Harriet's face and knew it was best to get her mother out of here, so handed her to Ruth, who stood with a pair of cuffs.

"Doing okay, Hathaway?" she said.

My response was placidity; I could not even bring myself to neither nod or shake my head. She smiled, understanding and not pressing any further.

I wandered back to the group. Harriet stood watching her mother, her arms wrapped around her waist, embracing herself as she knew her mother could not. The movement behind her caught her distant gaze and brought it back into focus; she turned and helped Emyl to his feet, he wincing at the pain from Abuela's heel, but finding support against Harriet's shoulder. Ibrahim, for his part, had managed to fully awaken Vincent, who had elected to stay sitting, slumped against a battered pillar. I was relieved to see them all safe, if a little broken.

"Blakely, sir! We have found the prisoners." a guardian who was unknown to me ran in and delivered the news to the guardian standing next to Croft.

Said guardian, Blakely, replied. "Are they all accounted for?"

"Not all, sir: a few still missing."

"Anyone of note?" Blakely quirried.

At this, the guardian faltered. "Well, sir…"

"Yes, Parker: spit it out."

"Well, the Queen, sir…"

"The Queen!?" Blakely could not have been more surprised if he tried. Even the ever-stoic Croft raised his brows.

Parker took a step back. "Yes, sir."

"Well, God dammit, Parker - don't just stand there. Give the order. Find her." Blakely snapped and the poor lad stumbled away to spread the word. Croft met my eyeline and sent me a questioning look. I responded with a shake of the head and a shrugged, telling him I had no idea where Tatiana was. Indeed, I had no idea where the other prisoners were being kept, though I could imagine that Abuela had something very different for Tatiana.

It seemed, however, that we were to be spared the trip, for at that moment the back doors of the throne room burst open, the sound pulsating in a bellowing echo through the open hall, and in stepped Abuela: as vindictive and sinister as she ever was, but this time she was different.

This time, she was holding Tatiana at gunpoint.

The whole room froze as she edged in. Tatiana, while clearly afraid, maintained her regality through deep breaths as she stared directly ahead of her. Yet there was also a fear in Abuela: it was subtle and easily missed, but clearly she was getting desperate.

"Buenos dias," She said, addressing the crowd of tensed dhampirs. "Now, you are going to be good and stay right where you are, or you can say adios to you reina." she said, edging further into the hall. The whole room was static, yet a slight buzz remained as we all looked for an opportunity to dive in. I remained especially on guard as we were the closest to the woman, but there was no way she was letting us out of her sight.

There was a distinct thudding as Drew walked back into the throne room, having suitably arrested various members of La Luz. He was about to open his mouth, but thankfully looked up and froze in time before Abuela could do anything too drastic.

"Stay where you are, boy." she said and Drew raised his arms, stepping back and glancing towards Croft for instruction. "No! Do not look to your master!" she snapped.

"I was just-"

"Silence!"

I, along with perhaps the rest of the room winced as Drew opened his mouth. Many of the guardians were shooting him a rather angry look, but Drew did not look in any way concerned.

And here was why:

He had diverted Abuela's attention and that gave Emyl all the time he need: he had snuck behind and struck Abuela on her neck. She cried out and released her grip. Tatiana bolted forward. The guardians jumped into action, pulling the Queen back and behind their defensive pose. Abuela was enraged.

And still holding a gun…

Lashing round, she aimed at the only person she could before the approaching guardians reached her. Emyl, incapacitated, could not move. My jaw dropped and I made to run towards Abuela, reaching her just too late. She fired.

And a body fell.

Though when I looked up from tackling Abuela to the ground, it was not Emyl's who I saw. No: he remained upright and staring in horror at the limp form in front of him. The one who had jumped in front of him.

Harriet.

Gloria D'Espina: that was her name. I suppose even monsters have names.

Her trial began within days of the Court's reopening. A prejudiced trial, as you can well imagine, yet even life at Tarasov did not seem suitable enough a punishment for her.

I was the only one that went. Ibrahim and Vincent decided to pass and Emyl was still in the hospital. The doctors said that he would likely walk properly again, but I doubted that would offer any consolement.

Harriet Conta had been dead for six days. She was buried next to her father two days after Gloria D'Espina had shot her. Emyl was scheduled for some sort of surgery that day, but told them all to fuck off and he wheeled himself to the green. It was just the four of us, plus the vicar. Not even Robert and Tamara could bring themselves to come, though they were struggling through traumas of their own. I suppose being kept, watching others be tortured or being tortured themselves, finding out your sister-in-law is responsible and losing your niece leaves a horrid aftertaste. It was understandable, really.

And so, it was a quiet service, on an overcast day where four silent friends stood and watched another descend back into the Earth. Or well, to God in her case. Dear Lord, I hoped she was in heaven, if not for the hell she endured down here.

And she was all I could think about, even after the trial had finished and I sat, solemnly and alone in my old Court room, just listening to the sound of clock as it ticked through the day unhindered and unblemished.

It drove me mad.

And so I went for a walk. It did little to help. After everything, everything seemed repugnant. I felt physically sick as I walked through those halls. There was no way I was staying here. I had to get out.

"Hey." I said upon entering the hospital. I leaned against the door and Emyl glanced up.

"Hey." he said, monotone and flat.

I glanced towards the chair beside his bed and he nodded, granting me access. I sat and sighed. "Tarasov." I said.

Emyl nodded again. "To be expected." he said, his voice holding a strange and constant indifference.

I cast a glance toward his face: his features were stoic and cold, though not through choice or mimicry. He never joked anymore, only said what needed saying. He didn't even call me 'Jenny' anymore.

"I hear you've been reassigned." I said, attempting to ignite some form of conversation.

He nodded. "Drozdov family. Lady Anna is expecting and they require further aid."

I nodded. "Anywhere's better than here, right?"

He didn't respond, instead returned to his silence. I sighed and flopped back on the plastic stool.

"Just wanted to check you were okay." I said.

He nodded. "You going with Mazur then?"

This time, I didn't respond. I couldn't. After a few more moments, I bid him farewell and went in search of the final topic of our brief conversation.

Ibrahim. He was leaving soon: that day, in fact. Called away, his organization did not care for mourning times or recovery. Though I think he needed it. He needed the distraction, to know he was doing good, just to get through the day.

That was his life.

Everything that had happened, that was who he was. Terrorists and battles and loss and labour: it was not usual for him, nor for Vincent who found the depressing idleness of the Royal Court increasingly unsettling.

"Ah, Janine, how was it?" Vincent asked as I stepped onto the runway. The plane rested about a hundred metres away, shining in the light of the afternoon sun.

I smiled, it was small and a little sad. "Unsatisfying." I said, thinking back to the feeling that ran within me when the verdict came down for Gloria D'Espina.

Vincent nodded. "They rarely are." he said, giving me a pat on the shoulder before picking up his bag.

Ibrahim came into my view, snaking his arms around my waist, he brought me to his chest. I sighed and sank into him, relishing his embrace. "He's eager to leave." I said, watching as Vincent poked his head from the plane and urged the driver to start the engine.

I could feel Ibrahim's smile. "He's British: they don't do well with emotions."

I chuckled and pulled back. "Where are you off to, then?"

Ibrahim smiled. "Back to Russia, I'm afraid."

My concern peaked, but I was too drained to really react. "Olena, is she…?"

Ibrahim's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Oh, no, no. She's fine. We are undergoing a debrief and our 'boss' in presently in Moscow." I breathed a sigh of relief, really not knowing how I would be able to take another tragedy. Ibrahim brought his hand up to my cheek and brushed away a stray lock of my hair. "It will only be a few days, I can assure you."

I could feel my heart beating in my chest louder and bolder; my eyes beginning to water so that I turned away.

"Janine-"

"I can't." I said, still not looking at him.

"You can't what?" he pressed, his voice soft and tender and only serving to break my heart more for what I was about to do.

"I can't be your guardian."

And I could not. This was his life: the danger and thrill that I had drew me in. But mine was just the same and the life we both led was one littered with tragedy. I had often wondered why it was that guardians never smiled or engaged with their Moroi, why it was that relationships between them were always frowned upon and rejected, leaving the guardians to just stand guard like stone sentinels to the world. It always seemed to me unfair, and perhaps it was, but Harriet's death had taught me one thing: that to be a guardian meant forgoing attachments. There were no friends, or lovers, only allies: comrades in arms. A guardian-Moroi contract was just that: a cold and calculated contract based on necessity, and emotion played no part in it. I could not be Ibrahim's guardian because I loved him. And he loved me. And I couldn't take the fact that, out of that love, he could jump in front of me, take a bullet for me, and I'd have to stand there, frozen, and watch him die. It was true, I needed out of here, out of these constraining Court walls, but I could not go with Ibrahim, for the fear of my emotions bettering me. All it took was one slip. And I couldn't risk it.

Ibrahim looked at me in shock. "Janine, wh-what…?" he faltered.

I turned my gaze back to him. "I cannot be your guardian. I could not bear it."

He faltered again, but drew in closer, cupping my cheeks with his palms. "You are in earnest?" he asked in disbelief.

I nodded.

I could see his tremble. With no hesitation, he brought his lips to mine, throwing everything he had into one kiss, before pulling back and searching my eyes again. "And now?"

I committed the sensation to memory, but remained resolved. Nodding, I affirmed, "I could not bear to watch you die."

"You won't."

"I could."

"I will make sure you never."

"You cannot promise that." I said with a sigh.

The conflict grew in his eyes. "Come with me, but not as my guardian. I'll find another. Would that suffice?"

I smiled sadly, my eyes beginning to overflow and dampen my cheeks. "What would I be?"

"Anything." he said, almost begging.

I shook my head. "I am a guardian, Ibrahim. I always will be. I cannot pretend, nor deny who I am, not even for you." I said.

He swallowed, blinking rapidly and searching my face for any sign that I might change my mind. He found none. "Then I'll stay."

I shook my head. "No, you cannot."

"I will."

"Ibrahim: no. We are what we do, what we say, what we feel and this is who you are. You are the man who keeps the world in balance, because you are one of the few men strong enough to do it. Do not change who you are for me or anyone."

He closed his eyes and reopened them again, finding my own in an instant. "I'll never stop, you know. I will love you until my dying day and I will fight for you until then."

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, resting my forehead against his as he bowed his head down. "You will love again." I whispered.

"Not like this." He replied.

"Better than this…"

"Janine…" he breathed.

I could have stayed there forever and, given half the chance in a different world, I would. I tightened my eyelids and nuzzled closer, before finally pulling back. He mirrored my actions, his brown orbs slightly glazed over. I straightened up and extended my arm out, indicative of a handshake. He looked down and quirked a brow, the action almost making me laugh. "It has been a pleasure, Mr Mazur."

He smiled and took my hand. "Likewise, Guardian Hathaway."

A wide smile took over my face and I sighed, swallowing back any lingering thoughts of grief in the hope of making this memory a fond one. I made to leave, but Ibrahim held me there. I cast a glance back, but saw him smirking. Frowning, I looked down at my hand and in it was placed a rose. A red rose.

"You are and always will be the only one worth my rose." he said picking it from my palm and tucking it behind my ear. His lips traced my forehead, but did not touch. He lingered there a moment before pulling back and giving me a nod. I smiled and nodded back, watching as he stepped backwards at first, but then turned, picking up his bag and following Vincent on that plane, yet something told me that this was not forever.

I retreated back into the confines of Court, now almost desiring the silence of my room and that blasted clock. And so, I did: pushing open the door and leaning against it so it shut. I stayed there, removing the rose from my ear and holding it tight toward me. Closing my eyes, I took in its sweet scent and felt a tear trace down my cheek. A felt a wave of nausea come over me and I remembered that I had yet to eat that day.

I was jolted from my position at both the sound and feel of a knock at my door. Jumping, I quickly placed the rose on my bedside table and opened the door. Ruth stood on the other side, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

She smiled. "Hey, Hathaway." she said.

"Hi, Ruth. You okay?"

"Me? I think I should be asking you that, Janine. I heard you were at the trial." she said.

I nodded. "Yeah. I think I needed the closure."

She smirked. "Don't we all." After a fashion, she extended her arm out and the piece of paper with it. "I hear you are leaving us."

"Yeah." I said, taking the paper and scanning over the contents. One Lord Aiden Szelsky requests a conference with Guardian Janine Hathaway…

"Makes sense." Ruth said. "Well, I hope to see you around. You are one to be admired, Janine Hathaway." she said, making to leave before stopping and turning back. "Oh, by the way, Doctor McIntyre asked me to grab you. I think one of your tests came back funny, not sure. Didn't ask."

I frowned. "Thanks."

"No worries." and with that she went away. I looked down at the paper before sighing tossing it down and making my way to the hospital. I felt another wave of nausea hit me and I groaned, placing a hand over my unsettled stomach and resolving to get whatever this was over with before finding some lunch. When another wave came, I groaned again and increased my step.

Whatever the doc wants, it better be important.