AN: Here is Wiley's chapter of this story, which keeps getting longer and more detailed in my mind and on the page. I love how these characters are becoming more and more real to me. Please keep in mind that Wiley is a very new, young agent, and he has only known Jane for a few months. So while we regular watchers of The Mentalist know all too well that Jane gets scared, Wiley has never yet (as of this episode) seen Jane in mortal danger, and rarely if at all situations of high danger to people that he loves.

I have known Jane for six seasons, but I don't own him or his colleagues, and I don't make any money for telling stories about them.

Chapter 7 Signs

When Wiley got home for the night, he felt like he had been guzzling caffeine all evening. He wondered if this was what it felt like to buzz on cocaine or some other dangerously powerful stimulant. He congratulated himself on having a job that paid him both in money and in his own particular intoxicant—challenge.

Until recently, the FBI had not fulfilled that promise. Until he found Jane—literally found him on satellite, in a way that nobody else had thought to look—he had been using only the smallest portion of his talents, and mostly sitting in front of a screen all day. Not that he minded working with computers. It was his most obvious and developed talent. But when he signed up for training for the FBI, he had hoped that it would be an adventure. He had hoped to broaden his horizons. He thought that he would meet interesting people, travel, learn martial arts and take down bad guys. At the very least, he thought his skills with computers would be put to full use in the investigation of cyber-crimes that would require all his faculties to solve. Instead, he seemed to be typecast as the stereotypical nerd and plugged into a wall to do mostly mindless techy chores.

Fortunately, Wiley took the initiative that most of his cohorts in tech support had long ago surrendered. When he showed Agent Abbott the kind of out-of-the-box thinking at which he excelled, he finally got his big chance. And since then, his job had not only met but exceeded his ideal expectations. Best of all, it seemed that his co-workers (His colleagues! His TEAM!) really got him. They liked him. They respected him. They were willing to let him try things he had never done before.

Especially Jane. Patrick Jane, mentalist extraordinaire, who had seen and done it all. Jane, who had started with practically nothing and amassed a fortune and a media empire by the time he was Wiley's age. Who had overcome a severe emotional trauma and started (without any training) a new and exceptionally successful career in law enforcement when he was in his 30s. Who had taken down a far-reaching criminal conspiracy in law enforcement and neutralized the devious master-mind that controlled it, then evaded capture by a massive FBI man-hunt. Even the FBI knew how valuable a legend like Jane could be, so they enticed him back to the states, finally giving in to all his terms just for the chance to have him on the payroll.

And this Patrick Jane, who Wiley knew he had found only because Jane wanted to be found, was willing to personally take Wiley under his wing and teach him his own secrets for understanding and manipulating human behavior.

It still blew Wiley away, whenever he thought of it. Was it any wonder that he practically idolized the man? Consultant or no, and no matter how much he admired Abbott and Fischer, in Wiley's mind Jane was the Boss.

Tonight had been Epic! The best night of Wiley's life so far, including when he ran the light board and soundboard that he had acquired, installed and programmed for his high school's production of Into the Woods.

In every aspect of this operation, Wiley had not only been included, but accorded a position of responsibility. Even, in some cases, authority. Borrowed authority, to be sure, but still…! And tonight he had been in his element. There had been both adventure and control, the excitement of watching the con unfold on his screens, and the rush of giving the cues that set the agents on their marks for each phase of the act. He had identified McKay, watched the confrontation reach its expected close for the evening, and left the surveillance and security in Pike's capable hands. A perfect end to a very productive day.

But now he found himself unable to sleep, still mentally reviewing the events of the last week, and especially the last 48 hours. Still looking ahead with excitement, if a bit of trepidation, to the plans for the next day. It was the final act, the capture of the villain, which he anticipated so eagerly. Wiley had been fascinated the previous night when Jane had explained the complex workings of the final stage, like that old game mousetrap, or some bizarre large scale Rube Goldberg device. Anxious to see it unfold himself, he had asked Jane for an actual role in the event.

**Time shift**

"I know just the thing." Jane's eyes had twinkled as he proposed letting Wiley be the one driving the cab, the one to deliver the mark to his final destination. Thrilled at the idea, Wiley had eagerly accepted. But as that night had worn on in the work of preparing the party house, he had begun to feel more than a little nervous about performing such an essential task. Not behind the scenes, but on stage, in a sense.

That was the one thing Wiley had not done in his high school theatre club. He had been an excellent AD, and a reasonably good director, he had dabbled with design and construction of various kinds, but he had never, ever set foot on stage when the curtain was up. The very thought was like standing on a boat adrift in a mighty storm. He wanted to be that adventurous, but it scared him. What if he messed up? What if he froze? What if the bad guy caught on? This could cost him more than just social embarrassment, this could actually be life or death.

"What's the matter?" Jane's entrance from behind him made Wiley drop the basket of brand new, freshly laundered clothing all over the floor of the master bedroom.

"Excuse me?" Wiley squeaked, flustered, as he tried to quickly pick up the scattered clothing and load them to the bed with its fancy new sham and spread.

"Well, I asked you to put the clothing in the dressers at least 5 minutes ago, and you're still standing there holding the basket." As he spoke, Jane picked the basket up and placed it on the bed along with its remaining contents. "Or you were a moment ago," he grinned, then crossed to the window with the curtains he had brought in. His voice was casual, his eye contact brief and reassuring. This was not a scolding, not an accusation, just concern, Wiley realized. But he hesitated to express the depths of his unease. Would Jane think he was chickening out? Would he lose this amazing opportunity because he didn't have the guts to follow through?

"Uh, sorry…I was just trying to figure out…" to avoid Jane's eyes, Wiley began fiddling with and sifting through the colorful cloth, "what should go where. Like, do ladies put their undergarments in the top drawers like guys do? Would they put the bras in with the panties, or keep them separate…?" but then he looked up at his hero. Seeing the knowing expression, he trailed off, and it took him an extra second or so to blush when he realized that he had just been talking to Jane about women's underthings.

Jane's shrewd gaze never left Wylie's face. "You, young sir, have a massive case of stage fright. You have just been thinking about pretending to be a cab driver with a dangerous criminal in your cab, and you are wondering if you'll be able to do it."

Busted. Wylie dropped to the bed, mortified, his face turning an even brighter pink. He should have realized that trying to fool Patrick Jane was a lost cause. "Yeah," he confessed, hopelessly, flopping backwards and staring at the ceiling. It was silent for an agonizing moment. When he finally sneaked a glance at Jane, the older man was calmly threading a curtain rod through the loops of a curtain, eyes intent on his work as if the mundane task absorbed his whole focus.

He feels bad for embarrassing me, Wiley realized, surprised. Or maybe he is just giving me a chance to recover?

"Do you think I can do it?" Wiley asked.

Jane kept his eyes on his hands as they moved through the curtains. "If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have offered you the job," he replied simply.

"How do you know? What makes you think I'm ready for something like that?"

"Even though you've never done it before?" Jane looked up at him with a smile, his hands still adjusting the loops without a sign of hesitation. "You want to do it. You care about doing it right. And it won't be a stretch. This is a great role for a new performer. You don't have to be anything but friendly and accommodating. You don't have to ask anything you don't want to know. And the mark won't even be looking at you. He'll only be thinking of getting back to his home base, and as far as a guy like this is concerned, a cabbie is beneath him."

Wylie mulled this over. Hadn't he spent most of his life flying under the radar, hardly ever noticed, even when he did spectacular things? "Okay, that helps, a little…"

"…But you're still scared?" Jane placed the rod in its place above the window and sat on the bed next to him.

Wiley expelled a breath of frustration toward the ceiling. "Some agent I am, huh?"

"Wiley, it may be hard to believe this, but every agent gets scared. It would be foolish not to be scared, when lives are on the line. The best agents are the ones that manage their fears to help keep them on their toes."

"They all get scared? Even you?" Wiley tried not to sound skeptical. When the pause lasted a couple beats more than he expected, he turned again to look at Jane's face, which looked oddly blank. There was another beat.

Then, "well, I'm not an agent, I'm a consultant," Jane said with a very wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. Wiley sat up abruptly, his brain ablaze with a barely comprehensible thought. Patrick Jane was scared. Way more, and way more often, than he ever let anyone see. More than he wanted to admit.

"You're not scared at all, ever." Wiley asserted confidently, eyes fixed on Jane. He had seen Jane use this tactic before. You make the statement and watch the facial reaction either confirm or deny it.

"No." Jane said at once, but Wiley's eyes lit up in triumphant amazement. It took Jane only a second to note that Wiley had found his tell, and he couldn't help but smile a little. "Okay, yes, I do. But please don't tell Lisbon. I mean, don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to protect."

Wiley barely spared a thought for why Agent Lisbon's name had come up. He was still trying to understand how Patrick Jane could be afraid of anything. "But you always seem to have everything under control! How can you be scared when you know just what's going to happen?"

"That's just it, Wiley. I don't really know what's going to happen. I make very good guesses, and I hedge my bets by stacking the deck in my favor. But there's only so much that I can control." Once again Jane was averting his eyes, keeping his hands busy. He was deftly refolding the clothing that he had purchased earlier this week, sorting it into neat stacks. "If I keep my mind under control, then I can stay calm and keep the situation on track. But there are always variables beyond my influence, things I might forget to account for."

"But the marks, the bad guys, what if they see how scared you are?"

"I don't let them see. It's the hardest part of the job. I bluff a lot. So far, it's worked for me. It works for a lot of people. Haven't you noticed at the FBI how many people pretend to know more than they do? How they act confident even when they're completely at a loss? It's a skill." Jane glanced up at him from his tidy piles of clothing. There was a tinge of regret in his voice as he concluded, "You'll pick it up."

Wiley took a stack of pretty sweaters and put them in a lower drawer. Jane organized a top drawer with flimsy but colorful lingerie. As they continued assembling the props, Wiley tried to remember a single time when Jane seemed other than completely in control He couldn't think of one. Was it possible that Jane was pretending to be this vulnerable just to make Wiley feel better? "I've seen other people bluff all the time, sure. But I haven't ever seen you scared." It was almost an accusation.

Jane chuckled. "Actually, you have. You just didn't recognize the signs. If you don't believe me, just watch closely tomorrow night. In fact, record a copy of the surveillance footage from this house tomorrow evening and review it. I guarantee you will find at least one instance of me getting thrown for a loop." He began hanging some slinky dresses in the closet.

Wiley was distracted, imagining what those gowns would look like on an actual woman.

He shook it off. "What, are you going to try to slip up?" he asked, a bit suspicious.

"Never." Jane's face was serious, now, as his hands wandered through the closet, thumbing through the rainbow of evening wear that he had just hung. "I always aim for flawless execution. Especially when the safety of others is at stake. But I also know that in every plan I have come up with since I started out as a consultant, almost without exception, something always happens that catches me by surprise. And tomorrow, there will be elements in play that are bound to mess with my concentration…" His hands and his voice both paused, then he pulled out a very low cut number, removing it from its hanger and holding it up with a hint of a smile hovering around his lips. "This one," he murmured, eyes unfocused as if in the grips of a waking dream. Then he, too, seemed to regain his senses. "Wiley, let's prepare for tomorrow morning's briefing."

**time shift**

Now, still riding the emotional wake of a very successful operation, Wiley celebrated the knowledge that Jane had predicted every move that the art thieves had made. He had called the tune and they had danced it without missing a step.

It was also encouraging to note that Jane had correctly cast each member of the ensemble, too. Senior Agent in Charge Abbott had carried off his role as thug brilliantly. If Wiley had not known who was sitting next to Pulaski at the sports bar, he would never have guessed it was his urbane, smooth and polished supervisor. He would have to ask Jane sometime how he had known that the boss used to box.

He had already decided against asking Agent Cho how much of the fight was staged. By the way the man was holding his jaw, (not just still as usual, but stiff) Wiley would have bet money that he had taken almost the full force of the blow that had knocked him over. They hadn't pulled their punches. Pulaski had no reason to doubt any part of what he had witnessed.

Teresa Lisbon and Kim Fischer had been positively dazzling. This fact made it hard for Wiley not to see them in a very different light. In the office they were all business, and older than he, but in the roles Jane had set for them they projected, each in her own way, vibrant and confident sensuality that any man would find alluring, if he liked women at all. No wonder Pike had been asking questions about who was seeing whom.

But of course, to Wiley, Agents Lisbon and Fischer were ranking superiors. He would have to work hard not to think about them as he would an attractive woman that was actually in his league. Even if he managed to hide his fancies from the ladies, Jane, he felt sure, would know if his thoughts towards their female colleagues were anything less than respectful and professional. What Jane might do if he thought Wiley was harboring inappropriate interest was uncertain. Wiley was afraid to find out.

At this point the direction of his thoughts compelled Wiley to look for some kind of mental distraction that could engage his attention until he could get himself to sleep.

His mind alit instantly on the suggestion that Jane had given him last night. He never would have considered reviewing the surveillance videos if Jane had not advised him to do so. It would have seemed disrespectful, somehow, to be looking back with a critical eye after such a perfect performance. Still, while Jane had orchestrated the action so perfectly and foreseen each result, there was one prediction that was yet to be confirmed.

In spite of his many talents, Wiley had a sensitivity towards his areas of weakness that made it hard to take compliments and encouragement at face value, sometimes. He had never gone near the Jock crowd as a teenager, fearing that his strength and coordination left something to be desired. He had also been shy of women, assuming that they preferred the sports hero type, and feeling awkward socially because he had little idea how the female mind worked. So when he had started doubting his courage last night, it was very hard to take Jane's reassurances seriously. He would love to believe that Jane was being honest about his own fears, not just pretending to share Wiley's weakness to help him feel better.

Perhaps Jane had known that Wiley would need a more concrete reassurance to boost his confidence. Perhaps that was why the idea of testing it empirically had even been presented.

Wiley pulled out his laptop and quickly accessed the recordings of this evening's video from the Party House. The audio-visual equipment had been recording from the set up for the party right up to the time Wiley had left. The data indicated that Agent Pike had turned the cameras off remotely a short while after that.

Wiley's fingers on the keyboard nimbly switched between recordings of the different cameras, enlarging or reducing first one, then another, following Patrick Jane's movements through the house during set-up. It was amazing to watch as the consultant tirelessly checked on a variety of last minute details, from the décor to the food. As the agents arrived, he greeted each one by name, giving them a quick tour of the premises, advising them what sort of party chatter to choose as well as what to avoid to allay suspicion from their mark. Most of all, he seemed to be urging them to have fun, relax, and enjoy the food and beverages as much as their professionalism would permit.

Wiley didn't listen to the audio at this point, as it was plain that Mr. Jane was in his element, being witty and charming and putting his guests at ease effortlessly. If there was anything in this plan that would catch Jane off-guard, it clearly was not at this early stage of the performance. But Wiley did not skip ahead. He liked watching his hero's enthusiasm and zest for life, his smooth manners and easy enjoyment of each moment. Even when some of the guests appeared to be flirting with their host, Jane managed to make a game even of this most opaque set of social rituals. Wiley envied his social skill. There was no trace of awkwardness, either from the host or from the attentive female party-goers. Wiley tagged this section of the video so he could return and study these interactions later.

By between 7 and 8 in the evening, most of the guests had already arrived. At this point, Wiley noted, Jane started spending more time near the main entrance and looking out the front windows towards the drive. His eyes wandered more often from his guests towards the clock, and his expression was more tense and guarded. Then, all at once, he perked up, his tension replaced by a beatific smile. He excused himself from his conversation and went to the door.

Two cameras covered this entrance, so Wiley set the enlarged feed from each side by side on the screen, enabling him to see both Jane's face and the faces of the arriving guests.

Within minutes of watching Jane interact with Lisbon and Fischer, but mostly with Lisbon, Wiley was kicking himself. How had he missed this? Was this why Pike had asked about Jane and Lisbon's personal relationship with Jane? But of course neither Pike nor Wiley could have seen this part of the recording. By this time in the tape, they would have been watching Abbott roping Pulaski. If he had seen this, Wiley's answer to Pike would have been very different. Even Wiley's relatively inexperienced eyes could tell that Jane and Lisbon were more than just partners in a professional, platonic sense.

To say that Wiley was shocked by his hero's obvious fascination with his long-time partner would have been understatement. Under the influence of office gossip, he had watched both Jane and Lisbon for weeks after they formally joined Abbott's team. They sometimes bickered, but were usually polite and even coolly distant. This didn't look like attraction to Wiley. Thus, the young agent had concluded that the rumor mill was full of it. He was sure that if Jane wanted a romantic relationship with Teresa Lisbon, he would obviously be in a romantic relationship with Teresa Lisbon.

After all, who would refuse Patrick Jane? Who could?

Evidently, Teresa Lisbon could. Even though Jane could scarcely keep his eyes or his hands off her during this con. Even though she clearly enjoyed his attention. Because the meltdown happened just minutes before the boss and Pulaski turned up at the party house.

Wiley resisted the urge to rewind and turn up the volume so that he could hear what had so upset Lisbon. In spite of Jane's invitation, it felt like an invasion of privacy. Although his curiosity was avid, he didn't really want to know what Jane could have said that could provoke that kind of anger. And it really was not technically part of the con. But he kept following the camera that captured Jane's reaction.

There was the fear Jane had admitted to feeling. Actually, abject dread was more like it. Along with an expression suitable to having been slapped across the face, hard. He recovered after a moment, held himself together enough for some offhand comment to a stunned Agent Fischer, complete with a smile that desperately attempted to look like self-assured amusement rather than pain. He then excused himself to get in position.

Was this what Jane had meant by elements that would likely mess with his concentration? It certainly appeared to Wiley that Jane's emotional control was badly shaken.

One camera had caught Lisbon emerging from a bathroom and heading towards the door, so Wiley enlarged the door camera shots again. Lisbon's grim expression was immediately replaced by a gregarious mask when the door opened. This was where Wiley had first observed Lisbon earlier this evening, and while he was still entranced by her poise and glamor, what he had just witnessed made the welcome seem a more astonishing performance yet. There was no trace of the fury he had seen moments ago.

Wiley adjusted the volume to catch the following conversations as Abbott and Pulaski walked past Lisbon into the house. She remained for a beat, casting her eyes downward with something akin to dark humor. Then she resumed her mask with a deep breath, turning to follow their unwitting guest of honor.

By this time, Jane appeared to have mostly recovered. At any rate, Abbott seemed oblivious to the consultant's stress level, and Wiley wasn't completely sure if he was reading in what he expected to see in Jane's demeanor. Behind his vain, wealthy host act, Jane seemed to be greatly relieved that Lisbon had carried off her act so well in spite of her previous emotional distress.

And then Lisbon started talking. When Wiley had first heard this exchange earlier, he had wondered which old movie he had seen with a woman talking in that accent. Now he wondered why Agent Lisbon was essentially flirting with the mark. That was Agent Fischer's role. And he saw with some anxiety what he had not noticed before, that Pulaski was confused, too. He was getting mixed messages. Was this woman off-limits, or was she coming on to him?

"Down, girl," Jane's voice conveyed a jealousy appropriate to his role, but his eyes were flashing warnings at Lisbon, even as he attempted to conceal a very un-Jane-like terror.

Yep, Wiley acknowledged to himself. Jane had called this one, too. If something caught him by surprise in every scheme, it turned out that this time he had been thoroughly blindsided.

From that point on, Wiley found watching the video disorienting. What had been, professionally speaking, a very effective ploy to catch their perpetrator also turned out to be, on a few other levels, rather emotionally wrenching. When not actually interacting with Pulaski, and even while watching from a distance, Jane's face barely concealed regret and deep worry. All his joy in his role had dissipated. Except for his labored performance with Kim and Pulaski, his demeanor was almost somber, as if he were at a funeral or preparing for an exceptionally difficult exam. He kept to the periphery, and had his first drink of actual alcohol from the bar. Then two more. He was by no means intoxicated. But the turbulent emotion that had been lurking behind his mask dimmed, replaced by a look of intense, calculating focus.

Wiley fast forwarded through much of this, as it was painful to see his hero so distressed. What actually took a couple more hours sped by in 5-10 minutes, counting a few times when one of the agents playing a guest attempted to make conversation with Jane. He would briefly rally, offering a shadow of his previous courtesy, but making no effort to prolong the communication. Jane's eyes followed Pulaski wherever he went, but he would occasionally glance at Lisbon. Lisbon was talking to every guest in the room, including Pulaski, sometimes more than once. But she avoided Jane. The consultant's posture and face subtly evidenced his exhaustion, and the rapid passage of time in the tape made the change more emphatic.

As guests started leaving, Jane directed a few of the agents, including Fischer, to help him package the rest of the party snacks. There weren't many left. Some he brought to the kitchen. Others he would press upon one or another of the guests as they began to look restless, wondering if they could leave yet. Whatever he offered was invariably accepted. Wiley took some comfort in the fact that, distracted as he was, Jane was still able to keep tabs on which guests had really enjoyed which foods.

Lisbon looked around for Jane as the guests began to leave. Not seeing him, she took on the chore of completing the goodbyes and seeing guests to the door. Wiley expanded the door images and the one camera in the kitchen, where Jane was working. Finally, having urged Kim to go on and get a ride home with the last departing agent he was alone. His face finally relaxed into morose misery, looking very tired and almost (Wiley was aghast at his own perception) old.

Moving slowly and quietly, Jane ducked into a bathroom. Wiley wondered why it would not have occurred to him the first time through that a host and hostess ought to be saying goodbye to their guests together. Lisbon continued as if she had not noticed his absence. She also looked tired. She had relaxed her femme fatale pose and resumed her more casual, comfortable movements, like Wiley sometimes saw at the end of a hard but productive day of work. Her elegant mask and manners were more subdued, and hints of her own personality started showing through on her face. Wiley wondered if he was imagining the hints of sadness or guilt that came out now and then.

As Fischer left with her designated escort, she had to defuse a hopeful Pulaski, who offered to accompany her home. At this point, Lisbon approached him with eyes of concern, observing that his own ride (which would have been Dennis Abbott) was gone, and offering to call him a cab. Pulaski declined, with something like regret in his eyes.

As Aaron Pulaski was leaving, a camera found McKay in the Master Bedroom examining the stolen art. Wiley knew from his previous viewing that the art thief had snuck in through the door that Pulaski had left open, and his entrance was not as important to Wiley as what had followed. So he enlarged the image, but didn't rewind. There was only one more thing that he wanted to review.

The door closed, and Teresa Lisbon took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before turning to face the apparently empty house. Her ready posture showed that she knew what was expected next. And as she ascended the steps, she was calling Patrick's first name, still very much in character in spite of the long day and the late hour.

McKay remained impassive as she approached, still staring at the VanGogh. Teresa stopped short upon seeing him there. Wiley wondered if she had expected Jane to get there first. Not that she had anything to fear from the mark. Wiley didn't want to think about where she had hidden her weapon, but he knew she had one. He couldn't be sure, though, if some real fear fueled her appropriate pretense of anxious confusion. Was she afraid to improvise without Jane? Did she wonder if McKay had already found him?

Wiley saw Jane emerge from the bathroom, his eyes wide, his movements urgent, trying hard to keep his breathing even. By the time he appeared on the camera behind Lisbon, he had assumed the outward appearance of untroubled amusement that there would be an intruder in the bedroom with his partner.

Lisbon looked genuinely relieved to see him, but her first words to him were ironic, just short of sarcasm. She kept her distance from McKay, no doubt realizing that she had a better chance outshooting him than overcoming him physically, if it came to that. Jane, on the other hand, stepped closer, stopping midway between them, at just the right angle to cut off McKay's view of his partner. He was prepared, Wiley knew, to clear Lisbon's visual range quickly should the need arise, but in the meantime he seemed determined that this interaction was between him and McKay alone. He referred back to her minimally, and only to maintain their illusion of intimacy. No, Wiley corrected his appraisal. The intimacy was no illusion. Jane just knew that protecting their cover was the best way to protect Lisbon. But his unease with McKay's penetrating gaze in her direction was all too apparent. The evidence of jealousy and protectiveness would only help their cover.

Somehow, that knowledge seemed to be less than comforting to Jane. His playful performance did not fool Wiley. Now that he knew what to look for, the signs of Jane's fear were impossible to miss.

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think of this episode, the more feedback I get, the more fun it is writing the next chapter. I hope that within a couple weeks I will have the next chapter of Need not to Know (Abbott's point of view, part II). Then I intend to resume this story from the point of view of one of the villains of the piece. I only just thought of the next chapter while I was finishing the writing of this one, so it doesn't even have a working title yet, but I think it will cover between Aaron' Pulaski's departure on the night of the party and his capture and interrogation. Then, unless my muse (wow, I seem to have acquired a muse, when did that happen?) expands on the story once again, I have 2-3 more chapters left in The Illusion Of Control! Yes, the end is in sight, and the story is way better than I could have guessed it would be.

But, of course, I may be a bit biased. ;)