A/N: I hope everyone's still breathing... thanks for all the comments (and I'm glad people didn't come to lynch me; they might now though). Baxter's having a bit of a frantic morning... *hands out more tissues and cups of teas (spiked if desired)*

CHAPTER 30

It was another early morning for Baxter. He pulled into the parking garage, leaving the grey light behind. He was tired, having spent half the night racking his brain what to do with Hardy and his unreasonable request of coming back to work to interrogate Ashworth. His mind was still grappling with all the information that Dr. Abbott had shared with him. He couldn't help himself, but he was angry at the man for keeping his life-threatening heart condition a secret. It was infuriating to think that Hardy had not only endangered himself, but also the entire investigation. As far as Baxter could tell, nothing had been missed, but who knew. Once again, he was struck by Hardy's unbelievably obstinate behavior.

He had witnessed Hardy acting very defiantly with his doctor who seemed as frustrated with him as Baxter was. Dr. Abbott had not held back her opinion that staying on the force would eventually kill him, especially while working the current case. She had told Hardy right in front of Baxter and he had chided her for disrespecting his privacy. If it hadn't been such a serious subject matter, it would have been comical to witness their face off. Hardy had kicked him out of the room and Baxter knew the news couldn't have been good, judging from his friend's tight-lipped attitude after their conversation.

Hardy had no idea that Dr. Abbott had made a point of pulling Baxter aside to talk. She had very bluntly admitted to breaking every law of patient confidentiality when she spilled all her concerns. The extent of what Hardy had been hiding was disturbing. Not only was his life in jeopardy but the nightmares and general decline his friend had gone through were troubling Baxter deeply. It was a miracle that Hardy was still walking around and had actually managed to apprehend the perpetrator.

Baxter climbed stiffly out of his car. The parking garage was deserted in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn't quite his style to show up this early but he needed to review SOCO's reports before he finalized his dealings with CPS. He had notified the prosecutor of the newly found evidence who then enthusiastically proceeded with charging Ashworth for the murder of Pippa Gillespie. With his DI out, Baxter had no choice but to do some of the leg work himself. It wasn't an unwelcome change of pace. He'd been sitting at a desk for too long.

Walking slowly towards the elevator, he recalled a conversation he had with Hardy a couple of months ago when Hardy had turned down a promotion to detective chief inspector. Baxter had been laying into him for being unreasonable to decline but when Hardy passionately explained why he loved what he did and didn't want to change that, Baxter relented. Hardy had gotten rather agitated at the time and Baxter remembered the breathless arguing that was going back and forth. Hardy must have already been ill then without even knowing.

It hurt to see his friend suffer like that. He wished he could have noted the signs earlier, but Hardy had been rather accomplished at keeping things quiet. At least until this past week when Baxter caught him during an attack. It was a relief that Hardy had finally come to him for help and Baxter didn't hesitate to be there for him. But it came at a price. He struggled with the inherent conflict of the situation. Hardy was his friend, but he was also his boss and Baxter carried the responsibility for the investigation. They could not afford for things to be mucked about because his SIO was trying to die of his secret heart disease.

Baxter stopped abruptly, the sarcastic thought echoing through his mind. He was dying, wasn't he? The realization hit him hard and Dr. Abbott's somber words finally sunk in. She had not exaggerated when she pointed out that if he were to continue, he would indeed undoubtedly succumb to his illness. Baxter finally recognized her breach of confidentiality as what it was - a desperate move to save her patient by giving him all the information he needed to stop Hardy from harming himself.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number. It was early but Martin would be awake already, always the busy cardiologist. After three rings he heard the familiar greeting.

"Baby brother! What's ailing you at this wee hour of the morning? Don't you usually sleep until the sun rises well above the horizon?"

Baxter rolled his eyes. He was well into his fifties and Marty still referred to him as if he was five. Some things never changed. He sighed and replied, "I need your advice, it's something medical."

"Medical, ey? You're not sick, are you?" There was concern in Marty's voice.

"No. It's not about me. Remember Alec Hardy?"

There was a huff on the other side. "The Scottish bloke who robs your sleep? Sure do. What did he do now?"

"I think he might be dying, Marty," Baxter admitted quietly.

"What? Why?" Marty exclaimed incredulously. "I saw his picture in the papers. He didn't look like someone on death's doorstep. Just like his usual grumpy self." There was a brief pause and Baxter could hear Marty's fingers tapping on a desk, a sure sign that something was nagging him. When he continued, he sounded pensive. "Actually, come to think of it, when he was on the telly the other day he did look a little haggard."

"I took him to a cardiac cath procedure yesterday and he almost didn't make it off the table." His brother let out a hiss, but remained quiet, waiting for the full story.

"His doctor made a point of telling me the full extent of his heart condition. He had been keeping it from me, stubborn arse that he is." Baxter's frustration was rising.

"What's wrong with him then? Sounds rather dramatic. Isn't he a little young for having his arteries clogged up?" his brother joked.

"No, Marty. He didn't have a heart attack. Remember when I asked you about irregular heartbeats the other day? He's got a serious form of arrhythmia. Hereditary, I think. It's called Long something or other." Baxter blanked on the diagnosis that Dr. Abbott had given Hardy.

"Long QT syndrome?" his brother prompted.

"Yup, that's it." Baxter confirmed, remembering the weird name.

"Now that's something you don't see every day. Has he had a cardiac arrest? You know, did his heart stop? That kind of thing?" Marty sounded way too intrigued for Baxter's taste.

"Yes, he did. His doctor told me that over a month ago he needed to be shocked and that he was lucky to be in the hospital at the time, otherwise he might not have made it," Baxter filled his brother in.

"And they let him leave that hospital without the pacemaker and ICD? Now that's surprising." Baxter could hear the hidden criticism of the other doctors' choices. He felt the odd need to defend Emily Abbott. She didn't deserve to be blamed for Hardy's moronic decision making.

"The idiot refused to get it and I'm pretty sure he might have signed himself out against medical advice. He's got a habit of doing so," Baxter sighed, remembering Hardy confessing to him after he nearly drowned. "Also, he jumped in a river to save a dead girl." Baxter shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Now that he understood more of Hardy's health problems that action seemed even more reckless.

"Sounds like the man has a death wish. Who's the lucky doctor? I don't envy whoever is taking care of him," Marty said curiously.

"Her name is Emily Abbott, works at South Mercia University Hospital. Seems rather invested in the stubborn knob."

"Oh, I know her –"

"Apparently you do. Maybe one day you could clue me in on the stories you spread about me," Baxter growled into the speaker.

Marty chuckled. "Maybe someday, little brother. Emily is an excellent physician, a bit green but nevertheless very good. Did she tell him he's going to die if he doesn't take care of this?" Marty was serious, amusement gone from his voice.

"She did. I was there. He ignored her. Typical. He's such a…" Baxter couldn't think of a satisfying curse word. He resorted to a heartfelt groan instead.

"So, why are you calling me, if you know all of this already?" Marty asked with a puzzled undertone.

"Because I don't know what to do. I'm his boss. Normally, I wouldn't question myself and would take him off this case, but he's also my friend, Marty, and I don't want to hurt him. I need to know how serious this really is. He almost didn't make it yesterday and they couldn't place the pacemaker, but he wants to come back to finish the job." Baxter was listening to himself, astounded that he was even considering giving Hardy a chance.

Marty slipped into professional mode, all joking gone from his voice. "Listen, Ed. The heart condition that your friend has is rare but in many cases fatal. A lot of people die much younger than his age from this. Frankly, I'm a little surprised he made it this far. He already had a cardiac arrest and survived by the pure chance that he was in a hospital at the time. If he doesn't get that pacemaker and ICD, it's just a question of time. I would also venture to say that he's not fit for the line of work you do. Stress is a killer for him, quite literally. Some forms of this disease get triggered by strong emotions and exertion. Even things like being startled or woken up by an alarm clock can set the heart off."

"I see," Baxter mumbled. His brother's words sank in and with it the realization of how impossible a solution seemed.

Marty sighed. "It's an evil disease to have. Hard to control. Is he taking medication? I hope he is, at least something to keep it at bay. You said he had a cath procedure and almost didn't make it? What happened there? That's a little unusual." The curiosity was back in Marty's voice.

"I'm not sure. She said that he was rather unstable throughout the case and they got him back because they were right there with their probes or whatever they were doing." Baxter wished he had paid more attention, but after Dr. Abbott had told him that there were complications, he couldn't process the information.

His brother hummed into the phone, thinking about what he had been told. "Hm, interesting. I'm curious about what happened. Maybe he had Vfib or something. Makes me wonder how risky a pacemaker insertion would be for him. These days it's a rather harmless procedure but who knows how bad his heart is already affected." He paused again. "Are you going to take him off the case?"

Baxter replied hesitantly, "I should, shouldn't I? It would be irresponsible as a boss, if I didn't."

"Forget about the job, Ed," Marty cut in. "You might save his life by making him stop and take care of this. He has a family, doesn't he? I remember meeting the girl, gorgeous kid. If he doesn't take this seriously, he's not going to make it. And I'm not being flippant about this. It's a fatal condition, Ed, don't let him tell you anything else. His career as a detective might be over, but at least he would have a chance to see his kid grow up. I'd say that's worth it."

Baxter took in a deep breath. They had found the pendant, the vital evidence that would bring the case to close. Hardy had done an excellent job on this. It wouldn't be like pulling him out in the middle of things. And simply thinking of Daisy made him come to a conclusion.

"I think you're right. The job's not worth it. He will hate me for it, but then it's in his best interest."

"Listen, if you need me to talk some sense into him, if he needs to hear it from somebody else but his own doctor, I'd be more than happy to do that. I know this guy means a lot to you - why, I have no idea, because he is a rude, grumpy bastard and God knows I wouldn't want to be his doctor - but that doesn't mean I wouldn't help him or you." Marty's offer was sincere.

"I might take you up on that. Thanks, big brother," Baxter said, grateful for the support. Marty grunted a goodbye in response and hung up. Baxter shoved his phone in his briefcase. It wouldn't be easy to tell Hardy that he was going to take him off the case, but he had no choice in the matter. Not as a boss, and even less so as a friend.

It was dark in the main CID room when Baxter walked in. He didn't turn on any lights, not quite ready to acknowledge the start of the day. None of his staff were there yet and the place was as deserted as the parking garage. Tess hadn't reported back to him about the latest news on the pendant. He didn't fault her, considering what had awaited her when she came home the previous night. He hoped that Hardy and his wife had finally talked and that Hardy was able to find some rest after the long day. He had been so worn out when he had left him.

Lost in his thoughts, he absentmindedly opened the door to his office. A shadow in the corner made him stop dead in his tracks. Startled, he dropped his briefcase and rushed over to the man curled up in a ball, leaning against the wall.

"Alec? What are you doing here?" Baxter stooped down, not eliciting any reaction. Hardy was sitting with his knees pulled up, right arm wrapped around his torso, left arm dangling from his propped up knees.

"Alec! Talk to me, what the hell is going on? Why are you in my office and not at home?" he shouted into Hardy's ashen face. The only response was ragged breaths. Deep furrows of pain were drawn over his closed eyes. Panicked over the utter lack of reaction, Baxter put his hands on Hardy's shoulders, gently shaking him. Eventually, Hardy's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, unfocused and dull. He clearly was in some sort of shock, shivering with sweat gleaming on his forehead. Baxter's hand reached for Hardy's neck, feeling for his pulse. His skin was cool and clammy. Finally, he found the thready heartbeat. It was too fast to count and so weak. Baxter's stomach knotted up with fear, fear for his friend who looked like he was dying in front of his eyes.

"Jesus, where are those bloody pills, Hardy?" Maybe he could get him to take his medication and buy himself some time to call an ambulance. Frantically, he patted Hardy down. There they were in his trouser pockets. Good man, at least he was smart enough to carry them with him. Hardy had taken two of the large tablets the other day, so he popped out a couple and grabbed the half-empty water bottle that was sitting on his desk.

He forced Hardy's mouth open, put the pills in, and closed it again.

"Come on, wake up, Alec." He lightly tapped him on the cheek. Then a little harder. He was desperate enough to actually slap him, when Hardy opened his eyes.

"All right, look at me. Swallow the pills, Alec. They're in your mouth, just get them down. Here's water." Baxter carefully placed the bottle on Hardy's dry lips and after a way too long moment, Hardy finally drank a sip and gagged down his medication. The relief was enormous.

He didn't waste any time on the sentiment though. Where had he put his phone? Never mind. He hurried around his desk to use his landline to call the ambulance.

Hardy groaned and Baxter shot him a quick glance to check if he was still conscious.

Oh, for fuck's sake. The bloody fool was trying to get up. He dropped the receiver before making the call and almost tripped over his own feet, trying to get back and steady Hardy before he could keel over and hit his head on the corner of the desk.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Baxter yelled at him while he caught his fall.

Hardy mumbled something unintelligible, struggling for air. Baxter lowered him gently back on the floor. When he tried to get up, Hardy's hand had an iron grip on his wrist. Baxter had no idea from where Hardy took the strength, when the rest of his body was limp and shaking.

"Alec, let go. You're hurting me. I have to call an ambulance." Baxter was trying to pry his fingers open.

"No… ambu… lance." The words were breathless and barely audible. His grip didn't loosen.

"Alec, you bloody idiot, you're going to kill yourself."

Baxter froze when he caught sight of Hardy's expression. Hardy's eyes finally focused and the pain and desperation that looked back at him were nothing he'd ever seen in this man before. It couldn't be, but if he hadn't known better, he would have thought that his last words were exactly what Hardy was trying to do. But why? What had happened since the previous evening?

He kneeled down next to Hardy, putting his hand on his arm. His voice was gentle and soothing when he pleaded quietly, "Alec, please, tell me what's going on. You're scaring me."

His other hand reached for Hardy's wrist, feeling for the pulse again. It was slower, but still rather irregular. His breathing was heavy, a little more measured than before.

Hardy raised his trembling hands to his face, but was too weak to complete the motion. Baxter brushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes, making him more comfortable. Hardy opened his mouth, but only a croaking noise came out. He took in a few more breaths and made another attempt. His voice was gravelly, speech slurring with his thick Scottish accent and exhaustion alike.

" 's an aff'r" The words were unintelligible. Hardy realized it and tried again. He couldn't, not having enough air in his lungs. Baxter's anxiety was rising but he remained patient.

"All right, take some breaths. Try again when you're ready."

A few agonizing minutes passed until finally, Hardy was able to say the words that had shattered his world.

"She's havin' an affair." His breathless whisper rang loud in Baxter's ears.

Baxter sat up straight. Furious anger rushed through him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He heard what Hardy had said, but he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Hardy took in another shuddering breath, tears now running down his cheeks. "Tess... is having... an affair... with Dave Thompson," he revealed stutteringly.

Baxter's face looked appalled. He moved back from Hardy and jumped to his feet. "You can't be serious about this?"

One look into Hardy's devastated eyes was all he needed for confirmation.

"Jesus Christ, that fucking woman!" Baxter's voice was trembling with anger. He started pacing, very much like Hardy would do, barely able to form a coherent thought. His mind was awash with fury and sorrow for his friend. He never liked Tess, but this? This was more than he would've ever thought possible.

"Please... don't... yell," Hardy was pleading, still struggling for air.

"I'm going to yell as much as I want. This is fucked up shit and I'm more than willing to say it out loud. How did you find out?" Baxter questioned sharply.

He didn't think Hardy could grow any paler but he did. He closed his eyes and winced in pain, clutching his chest. Baxter stopped his fruitless pursuit and stooped down next to his friend again.

"Alec? How?" he asked more calmly than he felt. He was afraid of the answer.

Hardy groaned and slumped over. Baxter caught him, holding him up.

"They... she..." He couldn't continue.

Cradling his friend's limp body, Baxter realized he had to get him to medical attention without further delay. He briefly contemplated the ambulance again. Hardy was too weak to protest anyway. Or he could drive him across the street to the A&E entrance himself. Might be faster.

"Alec, if I help you, can you get up? You need to go to the hospital, now. We can't wait any longer." He struggled to pull him up.

"They... lost... the... pendant." Hardy had finally managed to spit out the words he'd been trying to say.

"What?" Baxter cried out and unintentionally dropped Hardy to the ground. Hardy yelped in pain, unable to brace his fall, hitting his head on a chair.

"Oh my God, Alec. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" Baxter was more and more frantic. Did Hardy just say they lost the pendant? The evidence they had been hunting down for the past weeks?

Hardy didn't seem to care much about being banged up. He was struggling to continue with the ugly truth.

"They went to... hotel... to have sex... left the evidence bag... in the car... got broken into… it's all gone…" Despite being barely able to speak, Hardy's voice was filled with contempt and anger.

Baxter sucked in a sharp breath. He had to be certain he understood him correctly.

"Are you telling me that two of my detectives lost vital evidence while having sexual intercourse instead of submitting said evidence to a safe repository?"

All Hardy could do was nod. He was fading again. The fury that was raging through Baxter was driving his own heart rate up. He couldn't think of any other time he had been this angry. The level of disregard for professionalism was unprecedented. They had ruined the case and possibly the life of the man in front of him. It took all his strength to pull himself together and focus on the task at hand. He stored away the rage for later when he would be able to lay his hands on Tess and Dave Thompson. First he had to get help for his friend.

Baxter dragged Hardy to his feet and slung his arm over his shoulder. He took a tight hold around his waist, for once glad that Hardy was such a skinny fellow.

"Let's get you to the hospital, mate. Everything else can wait," he muttered under his breath. Hardy nodded and tried his best to stay upright. Baxter was grateful that nobody was in the main office, he'd rather avoid any commotion before he could think more clearly and make a plan of how to proceed with disciplinary actions. And the case. For fuck's sake, this could very well mean that a child killer would walk free.

Hardy moaned and was hanging heavier on him. They leaned against the wall next to the elevator. It seemed like an eternity until the doors opened and the two of them stumbled into the cart. The walk to the car was agonizingly slow, but they made it. Baxter cursed, he should have called the ambulance instead. He shoved Hardy into the passenger seat, buckled him in, more to hold him up than for safety reasons. He ran around the car, jumped in and drove off, tires squealing. In the five minutes it took him to pull up at the A&E ambulance ramp, Hardy had lost consciousness and was barely breathing.

He waved his badge at the security guard and yelled at him to get help, now. Somebody assisted him with tugging Hardy out of the car and onto a gurney. He watched them feel for his pulse, assess if he was breathing. They started chest compressions while they were wheeling him inside, the A&E nurse kneeling on the stretcher with Hardy. There was a lot of shouting and people running around, hectic activity ensuing around Hardy's limp body. Baxter slumped against a wall and slid down to the floor, his arms shaking from the exertion of dragging his friend to get the help he needed so desperately.

And while he was watching them shocking him repeatedly with the defibrillator with no heart rate on the monitor, he was taken back all those years when Hardy had stayed with him the night he thought his daughter Emma was going to die. He closed his eyes and prayed to anybody out there who was willing to listen, something that he never did, but he had nothing else left to give. There was a pause in the commotion, and he lifted his gaze, prepared for the worst. Tears of relief were running down his cheeks when he saw the slow heartbeat crawling over the monitor. The stubborn wanker had made it once again.

"Mr. Baxter?"

Baxter looked around and recognized the voice. Dr. Abbott had finally made it to the hospital, taking over Hardy's care from the A&E team.

He was standing next to Hardy's stretcher, looking at the still figure of his friend. Hardy had a breathing tube down his throat and was hooked up to a ventilator. IVs were sticking out from his arms and more drips than Baxter could count were running into him. He nodded in acknowledgement, not feeling like talking.

"Can you tell me what happened after you left yesterday? I was under the impression you would take him home and make sure he'd rest. That's why I let him go." She couldn't quite rid her voice of the underlying accusation.

Baxter rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. "That's what I did. When I left him he was tucked in on his sofa, waiting for his family to come home. I have no idea why he went to the police station."

Actually, Baxter very much had an idea. His best guess was that Tess had called Hardy to talk on neutral ground.

Dr. Abbott's squinting gaze was resting on him. "I think you do know why and don't want to tell me. That's your choice. But it would be helpful to understand what set him off and basically killed him. You do realize that he was in full cardiac arrest for almost five minutes?"

Only five minutes? It had seemed so much longer. At the same time Baxter understood though, what possible effect this prolonged resuscitation could have had on his friend.

Quietly he asked, "Will he be okay?" He had spent enough time in hospitals and around doctors that he knew this question was impossible for them to answer at this point, but he still needed to hear it, either way.

It was Dr. Abbott's turn to rub her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. His heart is in bad shape, it was already before this event. We'll have to see how hard it will be to control the arrhythmia after this insult. He needs that pacemaker but now we'll have to wait even longer until we can attempt placement because he needs to recover first. Without it, his chances of making it are slim."

She sighed. "We won't know how his heart stopping for so long will have affected his brain until he wakes up. I have him sedated for the moment, but I hope that by tomorrow I can let him come out of it."

Baxter's throat closed up. He simply nodded. His stomach was burning with an angry fire and he couldn't help but think that whenever he saw Tess next, it better not be somewhere alone as he couldn't vouch for his actions.

"His wife told him she's having an affair. With one of her colleagues," Baxter admitted under his breath. He didn't mention the other part to the story, it wasn't anything Dr. Abbott needed to know.

She sucked in some air. "Oh. I see. That explains a lot."

Baxter's ears perked up. There was more judgment in her voice than he would have expected from a physician. Curiosity won and he asked, "What do you mean?"

She hesitated a moment, playing with the pen in her hand. "When he was admitted for the first time, while his daughter was sick, his wife wasn't very nice to him, you know. He had just had a cardiac arrest at his kid's bedside and she was accusing him of having bad timing and leaving her alone in this situation. I kicked her out of his room because he couldn't take it."

Baxter remembered the phone conversation he had with Hardy while Daisy was in the hospital. Hardy had admitted to fighting with Tess. He said she was upset that he had left her alone because he needed to take a break as he got too emotional. At the time Baxter had thought that was a little odd but didn't pry further. God, how he wished he had though and Hardy would have told him the truth then.

"She didn't visit him much and I think he felt rather hurt by that. As far as I know he never told her how ill he actually is. Or at least not the whole truth." She shook her head, her face sad.

Baxter took Hardy's cold and clammy hand. "Don't call her. I don't want her near him," he growled.

"Mr. Baxter, if he were to get worse, I don't have a choice," she quietly replied.

Baxter found her eyes. "Please, call me and I will deal with her," he pleaded. She nodded and Baxter felt relieved. Tess had no right to be at his side, not any more.

"What about his daughter? She should know, don't you think so?" Dr. Abbott sounded shy when she posed the question.

If it hadn't been impossible, his heart ached even more. "I'm sure he didn't tell her either. I'll talk to her mother and we will come up with a plan. We can't throw the poor girl into this without preparing her. She's a great kid but she's only thirteen. I've known her since she was in preschool, I promise you we'll figure something out." Baxter tried to be as reassuring as he could.

Dr. Abbott stayed mute. Her eyes were glittering.

"You know I care about him, yes? More than I should probably, being his doctor and such. I think you also figured out why. He reminds me of my late father who was as stubborn as this bloke. It was extremely tough on me that my father never told us about his illness until he couldn't hide it any longer. Don't do that to his daughter. And I've told Alec that, more than once, trying to encourage him to be open."

Baxter couldn't help himself but smile. "I noted, he lets you call him Alec?"

She wiped at her tears and nodded again. "Yes, he does actually. Never thought about it. As a matter of fact, he calls me by my first name too."

Baxter's eyebrows rose. Now that was something new. "He must like you then. I mostly get a growled 'sir' and get snapped at as soon as I dare call him Alec," he said with a lighter tone.

Their eyes met. She looked so sad and Baxter couldn't help but put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her encouragingly.

"He'll get through this and then we'll make sure he will be taken care of. No excuses this time," Baxter promised her and himself. The cards had been dealt, everybody had shown their hands and it was time to quit playing. There were no winners, only losers in this sorry game of deceit and betrayal.

A/N: This is another part I wrote a long time ago and I was anxious if it still held up when I revisited it. After my trusty editor gave up correcting mistakes half-way through this chapter due to emotional brain melt, I venture to say it might have. So, all mistakes are mine this time around (not that they ever aren't anyway, but there might be a few more than usual). Also, hazelmist is still accepting donations for a new keyboard as she must have broken the capslock this time around.

And for all the anxious people out there who would like to yell at Tess... Baxter will do so in the next chapter. You may join him wholeheartedly.

Oh and I do apologize for the melodrama - I get sucked into it easily and the story ain't over yet. So consider yourselves warned.