Carlisle POV

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The next few days passed the same. Alistair stayed during the day, bickered with Garrett when he came home from work, and we pretended that we were normal once he'd finally left. I knew I was useless. Just moving around our apartment was exhausting. I could barely shower on my own, and any other chore was almost out of the question. Making the bed was pointless - I'd needed to nap immediately after doing it. I couldn't be on my feet long enough to cook without my blood pressure dropping; every attempt I made had to be salvaged by whoever happened to be hovering.

Passing out in front of Alistair was somehow worse than with Garrett alone. Although outwardly more competent, calm for all that I was aware of, he wouldn't let me off the floor for an agonisingly long time. Not until I jumped through all of his stupid hoops and passed his made-up exams. My perseverance that I felt fine was apparently unconvincing, and I always ended up back in bed with icepacks to stop the bruising.

Garrett was exhausted. I was sure he was purposefully keeping himself awake at night to keep watch while I slept, deliberately drinking black coffee not long before we went to bed. He couldn't keep it up. By the end of his run of shifts, he hadn't made it to bed, falling asleep during the movie he'd put on with dinner. I left him alone. As much so that he could rest as it was to prove that I was alright on my own for a few hours.

I hadn't eaten anything today. Only the little that I'd choked on at breakfast. Gar would panic if he woke up and realised - I needed to try harder. I also couldn't live off of that formula forever, and both Al and my boyfriend would anxiously bring up the feeding tube every morning when I struggled to get down whatever they were having. The one time I'd syringed water through it - the only time it'd been touched since I'd come home - it had only made my stomach hurt.

Everything in the cupboard made me nauseous to think about. No one at the hospital had ever made a suggestion in regards to what might be least offensive, and the whole task was painfully daunting every time I stood in front of the shelves. It was easier to pick at whatever Garrett cooked for us, despite all of my attempts being unsuccessful.

My heart was pounding. I threw a glance at the couch, selfishly wishing he might wake up enough to realise he was hungry, wishing even more that I could make something for us. Everything was going to make me sick - google searches didn't help. I briefly entertained the idea of calling Sasha; it wasn't like I had my own mother to call.

Fox bunted at my shins, and I knew I had to hurry up. Had to pick something before I needed to sit down. Already the feeling was fading from my fingertips, the tingling in my hands starting to travel up my forearms as my ears started to ring. It was out of fear of the dizziness that I snatched a packet of oats from the bottom shelf. Bland enough not to taste like anything, I hoped. Maybe not as bad if I traded milk out for hot water. Less likely to upset my stomach if I left the bowl on the bench long enough for it to cool a little.

The cat purred as I scooped her up. She was almost too heavy for me to lift, making the blood rush to my head as I strained. No one had told me how long this was supposed to last either. How long I'd be so insufferably weak. Again, his mother wouldn't know but I wished I could ask her. I was pretty sure that he still hadn't told his parents that I'd tried to leave him, that I was horrible, that he was basically my carer now.

I sat with him on the couch until the steam stopped rising out of the bowl. A few times, he stirred, his hand coming over to find mine, to check I was still there, easily put back to sleep once I squeezed his fingers. I hoped Fox would fill the void as I abandoned him for my meal.

I didn't want to sit back on the couch with it. Even the kitchen seemed risky. It wasn't as though I could clean up after myself in my current state, and I sure as hell couldn't hurry with it. It would be yet another thing Garrett had to deal with when he woke up.

It was that train of thought that led to sitting on the bathroom floor with my sad attempt at dinner. Pressing my spine into the edge of the bath, I tried to ignore the way my middle squeezed, the overwhelming urge to gag after the first half-spoon full.

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I wasn't ever going to get better. Oats hadn't been a good choice - I'd finished the stupid bowl over the course of half an hour. I was sure I was going to vomit the second I so much as tried to breathe too deeply. It was fucking agony; the cramping burned from my stomach into my back, my thighs aching when I shifted my legs a little. I pressed my forehead into my knees and wished I'd pass out. For once it just wouldn't happen.

"Hey, did you get sick again?" Rubbing his face to try and wake himself up, he lowered himself to the floor beside me, his hand landing on my shoulder to bunch in my shirt. The ringing had disguised his entrance - it was too late for me to try and fix my posture. "You should have woken me up."

"I'm okay. I had dinner." I couldn't fucking breathe.

He reached across me to nudge the bowl on the floor, suddenly seeming to realise what I'd done. "On the bathroom floor?"

"I was nervous."

"Are you nauseous?"

I nodded. Tears welled up, pure spite that keeping them from falling.

"Think you can come to bed? It's really late." He was stifling a yawn, dropping his head to my shoulder briefly. "You're freezing."

"If I can have a bucket."

"Yeah, of course."

Needing the comfort suddenly, I cautiously turned toward him, shifting onto my knees to slip my arms around his neck, letting him pull me into his lap as he unfolded himself. He murmured my name, slowly stroking my spine, kissing my throat as much as he could reach from where I'd pinned him against the tiles. I wondered if I was hurting his back.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he softly asked again.

I nodded. I didn't move as he shifted under me - if the last few days were anything to go by, I'd get sick if I so much as blinked too quickly. I had to go slowly. Really slowly. "Give me a minute." I didn't take his offered hand out of fear he'd yank me to my feet.

Garrett was frowning again. "I can pick you up."

"So you've proven." Lugging the cleaning equipment had been good for his physique - I had to give him that. "Do you think I'd be punching in the same weight class as your industrial vacuums?"

The laugh that echoed around the bathroom sounded forced. I glanced up in time to watch a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Maybe," he agreed noncommittally. "Bed?"

"I can walk." I used the bathtub as leverage, dragging myself upright and managing to not immediately lose my dinner. The food was sitting like a rock, making it hard not to double over.

He caught my hesitation straight away. Despite my protest, he swept my legs out from under me, done with arguing about it. "You didn't pick a light food to start with, you know."

"Slowly-" I pleaded quickly. Squeezing my eyes shut stopped the room spinning, but didn't prevent the motion sickness that the swaying of his steps brought on. It was taking everything I had not to throw up on him - I was sure he'd leave me if I did. I didn't feel safe enough to speak until I felt the stability of the bed under me. "I thought…I don't know what I was thinking; it was the only thing I didn't think would be terrible. I didn't want it to hurt if I was sick afterwards," I explained stupidly. It hurt anyway. The only thing I'd succeeded in was giving myself a stomach ache.

"I'll go to the supermarket tomorrow, but is there anything you actually want?" He was pulling the blankets over me before I could come to terms with what was happening, almost parental as he adjusted the pillow behind me.

"No, I just don't want to feel like this after every meal - it wasn't even a meal really. What are you…" Not that it wasn't a little comforting.

"What am I what?" he prompted when I didn't finish.

I had to swallow away the tightness in my throat. "I'm not your child?"

That earned me an eyeroll. He'd already pulled the sheet up and folded it over the edge of the comforter, tucking both under the bottom of the mattress. "Of course not? I didn't think I was treating you like one?"

"You're quite literally tucking me in, Garrett. After you carried me to bed." The linen was fresh - soft and full of the fragrance of laundry detergent - not the one we usually brought, though. Lavender and something else. He must have changed the sheets as well. I was his child. At the very least, I was his obligation. I wiggled a little to make sure he hadn't trapped me there.

His smile faded. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-no."

Leaning down, he kissed me lightly as he sat down on the edge of the mattress by my hip. His fingers intertwined with mine, loosening my anxious grip on the bedding. "Then what's the matter?"

"I, um, I guess no one has ever done that before," I admitted. He was going to dump me for being a moron.

Now the smile was well and truly gone. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Are you tired?" He quite obviously was; he still looked exhausted, a little pale maybe.

I nodded. It wasn't a lie, but I mostly wanted him in bed, and we both knew he wasn't going to go unless I agreed to stay put. "Are you coming?"

He brought the back of my hand to his lips, relief washing through his expression as he allowed himself to give in. "Yeah. Can I…? Is it okay if I…" My questioning had made him awkward. He slipped between the sheets, sinking down into the pillows but hesitating before he touched me.

I didn't have it in me to play hard to get - it wasn't like I had any dignity left to preserve. And I desperately wanted him to cuddle me. Thankfully, he didn't make me grovel either; he let me invade his side of the bed, his arm underneath me and the other over my hips. I nudged my knee between his, my cheek against his bicep as I trailed my fingertips across the lines of his chest. "Did we get different soap?"

"Hmm?" Already half asleep, his comfortable fidgeting with my shirt froze.

"The fabric softener. It's not the one we usually have?"

The hand drifted up my waist, drawing me closer. "Oh. Yeah, it's new. Carmen said the smell of it is good for sleep or something - I know it's bullshit, but it's worth a shot, right?" he mumbled. "If you don't like it-"

"I do."

"Any more questions?" he teased tiredly.

"I'm good." If nothing else, I didn't feel so ill.

"Good."

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The dark was suffocating when I jolted awake. My chest was still heaving, my throat dry and thick as I panted to get my breath back. Scared to move, as if he was cloaked by the blackness, like he could be mere inches from me, I cautiously slid my palm across the mattress until my fingers brushed Garrett's. My hope that he'd somehow stayed awake again quickly sank when he didn't react to the light pressure, continuing to breathe evenly.

It wasn't real. Just a dream. Caius wasn't here.

My face was still wet with tears as I risked shuffling into my boyfriend's side. I pressed my cheek to his chest, trying to match my breaths to his. Anything to quell the adrenaline.

I could still feel his thumbs compressing my trachea. His hands knotted in my hair, tearing my scalp. His nails gouging my skin as he ripped at my clothing. The cold tile of the sink burning as it hit my temple. The ache in the pit in my stomach as he forced-

"You alright?"

The shock of his voice made me flinch so violently the bed jumped. I scrambled for an answer, floundering to get words out, unable to figure out what to tell him.

His hand ran up my back, fingertips brushing through my hair - the same place Caius had pulled, but so gentle. "Baby? Everything okay?"

"Yep." I forced another swallow. "Bad dream."

He hugged me against him, humming softly. The blankets rustled as he rolled over to face me, pressing his lips to my forehead as the movement forced me off him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to compensate. "Have you slept much?"

"Until now, yeah." I hated how hollow my voice sounded.

"Think you can go back to sleep?"

I didn't want to. Not while I was running the risk of Caius intruding again. I nodded anyway, knotting my fingers in his shirt and squeezing my eyes shut.

Garrett was quiet again, for so long I was sure that he'd fallen asleep. The muffled drip of the bathroom tap through the door drilled into me as I strained to listen for any sounds in the apartment, for any sign that he really was here and that I wasn't crazy. "Relax," my boyfriend mumbled.

I jumped, gasped, struggled to catch my breath, his unexpected response shoving my stomach into my throat. "I am relaxed," I argued lamely.

He huffed, his palm wandering down my body to grip my hip. "You are not; you're so tense you're going to pull a muscle. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"Your stomach isn't bothering you?"

"I'm fine, Gar. Just stupid."

"You're not stupid, baby, you're just- It was Caius, wasn't it?"

I nodded, the lump too hard to swallow. "Can we turn the light on for a little while?"

He stretched over to switch on his bedside lamp without question, sighing again. "Do you want a warm drink?"

My fingers tightened around his shirt as soon as he started to pull away from me. "Don't go, please."

"Alright, Carlisle."

I sank further into his side, selfishly wanting to put him in between me and the apparition I really didn't want to see. The air burnt as I sucked it in, the shadows the lamp threw almost worse than the darkness itself. I could still feel his hands on my body, the pain from him grabbing me, the nausea from Heidi poisoning me, all of it making my heart race until my chest cramped. "Garrett." My voice was too loud, sending a jolt through him.

He couldn't manage more than a half-asleep hum in response.

"I-I think he's going to break in."

"Caius?"

"Y-yeah."

"It was only a dream."

"He knows where we live."

"...can get some pepper spray," he mumbled. "It's not going to happen tonight, baby. You can go back to sleep."

I nodded although I'd never be able to.

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I woke up before him the next morning. He didn't need to work, and I carefully extracted myself from his arms to keep from waking him as soon as I couldn't keep from shifting. I was almost certain that he'd stayed awake again for a good part of the night, after I'd spent a couple of hours tossing and turning.

I wished I could make him breakfast. There was no way I was going near the oats again after last night's drama

It took all of my energy to feed the cat and take a shower. I'd barely been up for half an hour and was already struggling in the bathroom on my own. Drying myself was torturous, brushing my teeth making my arms burn, but I did it. It was worth it if it afforded me a few minutes of independence. I made a point not to glance at myself in the mirror above the vanity, not to fixate on the scarring I was covered in now, or the way I swam in my clothing. It'd only make me anxious if I looked.

Fox had followed me to the shower, sitting outside the door to wait for me. Her weight off-balanced me when I lifted her, but her warmth and soft purrs were worth the effort as I took her back to the kitchen with me. She obliged when I lay down with her on the couch, stretching across my chest to stay with me, chirping softly as I sunk my fingertips deep into her fur. She'd been clingy since I'd come home. I was sure she knew that I was sick; even when she wasn't directly on me, she trailed me from room to room, usually on my lap as soon as she was able.

I need to work. To even just finish the easy stuff. But it was suddenly impossibly hard not to fall asleep. Harder with the cat on top of me. Even worse when I needed to fetch my laptop from the kitchen to get anything done. So easy to give in to the exhaustion.

It wasn't until a noise in the kitchen jarred me awake that I realised I'd lost the battle. Fox was gone, but sun streamed through the now-open curtains and the room smelt of toast and coffee. I was almost hungry. "Gar?"

"Do you want tea, baby?" he called back, mid-yawn.

I dug my elbows into the couch to sit up. Until I'd gotten sick, I'd never been a fan of the British stereotype, but the hot drink was comforting now that I couldn't risk caffeine. "Yes, please."

He was already dressed when he sat down beside me, his hair still wet from showering as he passed me a mug, his coffee in his other hand. "Are you up to coming to the grocer with me?" He kissed me softly, his hand drifting over my thigh and squeezing.

I felt the blood drain from my face. "I don't think so."

He frowned. "I need to go and get food, and Al is busy today - I've already asked him."

"I'll be fine here on my own," I argued meekly. Sinking down into the furniture, I wished it would consume me, forcing a few swallows of my drink to avoid him for as long as I could.

"Carlisle, that's not happening."

"I won't move - I won't get up," I promised. "I'm not going to…to do anything. And I've had tea; I don't think I'll faint if I'm careful. I'll take a nap?"

Garrett rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to get up at some point. I don't think we should be risking it when you've only just come home - not while you're still collapsing."

My heart was starting to race. "I can't come; I'm not going to be able to walk around the store, and sitting in the car too long hurts, and I'm going to get sick while we're driving-"

It was painfully silent while we stared each other down. His shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Can you actually promise me that you'll stay here the whole time? I really don't want you to pass out on your own."

"I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere," I pleaded. "Please, Gar, I don't think I can come with you."

"I'd feel better if you lay on the bed," he finally admitted.

"Fine," I sighed. Not that it sounded bad. The nap was rather tempting after last night. I was a little woozy by the time he'd ushered me down the hallway. The pattern on the wallpaper swirled, and I was suddenly very glad to be lying down. I hadn't entirely planned on getting in bed, under the blankets, but the comfort of them was too much to resist as Gar pulled them over me. There was no way I'd be able to stay awake.

"Want your computer?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I'm gonna fall asleep."

He chuckled. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours."

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I was going to have to break my promise. I hadn't factored my bladder into it. Staring at the ceiling with nothing else to focus on was only making it unbearable. I had to get up.

The floorboards creaked as I stumbled my way to the bathroom, the grain of the wood a nauseating blur. The TV was playing softly in the background, a gameshow droning the walls. My head was heavy. The weight caused an ache in my spine. There wasn't anything I could do about it until Gar got home and unlocked the cupboard.

I washed my hands, splashing water over my face in a hopeless attempt to wake myself up a little. The nap might have been unavoidable, but I really needed to work. I couldn't put it off until my boyfriend came home to give me painkillers either - I'd have to suck it up. Fuck my head hurt, though.

The light was making it worse. Stinging. Making my eyes water and forcing the urge to sneeze as I squinted against it. The weather outside had darkened by the time I reached the hallway. The room was spinning and my knees felt weak. I couldn't faint. Not when I'd specifically promised I'd keep myself safe.

A strong hand closed around my bicep, tugging me to safety. I sat automatically as soon as something brushed the back of my legs. "You alright?" Garrett asked. He dropped to his knees to level us, his hands resting against my thighs as I melted against the couch.

I think I nodded. Tried to. My entire body tingled, my limbs numb and heavy, uncooperative. I forced myself to mimic his breaths. "...tried not to move 'til you got back." My words slurred, ignorant to how badly I needed to plead with him not to be mad at me. "...had to pee so bad. Sorry."

He had been smiling as he tried to comfort me, but it faded now, his fingers catching in my hair as he brushed it from my face. "I've been back for ages, Carlisle; you've been out for six hours. Are you okay? Can you try to have dinner?"

"I don't…doesn't feel like that long." My pulse throbbed in my ears. I prematurely tried to sit up, Garrett winding his arms around me.

"I think you should eat," he tried again.

"I can't. I can't have whatever you're having - it's going to upset my stomach," I pleaded with him. I really didn't want to risk it while I wasn't overly nauseous.

He kissed my temple. "I know, not a meal. Just a snack. I think it'll make you feel better; you must be hungry - it has to be painful by now."

I nodded, though I couldn't pick whether the cramping in my middle was food related or something else. "Have dinner with me?"

"I've already eaten, but I'll sit with you."

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It was just flat lemonade and plain crackers. Half-heartedly watching the cheesy commercials on the TV, I took the glass from Garrett's hand, the sugarly liquid helping me keep down the progress I'd made. His fingertips wandered to the outside of my thigh, rubbing lightly while my legs were draped across his lap, his free arm around my shoulders. "I'm so tired," I whispered to him. My hand wobbled, threatening to spill my drink until my boyfriend supported the glass again.

"You're still supposed to be in the hospital," he reminded me gently. "You've managed more than you've been able to since you came home." He was right. And it didn't hurt as badly as my last meal. Felt better, maybe.

"I want to go back to bed, but I haven't done anything today, and-" There was so much I needed to finish, so many hours I had to catch up on if I wanted to keep my job, to keep my work visa, to keep my fucking health insurance. And the bills never fucking stopped - I wasn't going to be able to afford the prescriptions at this rate.

"Carlisle, you shouldn't be doing anything anyway," he interrupted before I could spiral. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're pretty fucking ill right now; you can't be doing anything."

"I'm going to get fired."

"They can't fire you for a health condition - you'd be able to take them to court."

"I can't walk - I can't take anyone to court." It made my chest tight, my lungs squeezing as I sank against his side.

His fingers laced through mine. "It's not going to happen."

"Made redundant, then. I'm not going to be able to get citizenship; I'll never get a green card."

He groaned, resting his cheek on my shoulder, bringing the back of my hand to his lips, squeezing. "Don't work yourself up. Come on, I'll help you to bed."

"Garrett-"

"We can deal with everything else in the morning," he insisted.

"It's too early for you."

"I'll sit with you until you fall asleep. It's alright." He jostled me off him until he could stand, his hands sliding over my wrists to tug me up. "Can you stand?"

I nodded. It was too much to try and resist him while I was so tired. I let him pull me up, falling into him when my legs shook under me.

"Is your stomach okay?"

My hand drifted to my middle, bunching in my shirt. I felt okay. Like everything would stay down, at least. "Yeah, I think so."

"Progress," he smiled.

"Progress," I agreed.

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"I bought something, and I need you not to be mad at me for it," he started carefully. We'd been lying in bed together for the best part of an hour, but I cou;dn't fall asleep to release him from his watch, no matter how exhausted I felt. Sleeping so much definitely had its consequences.

"I don't think there's anything you can buy that'd piss me off, Garrett," I told him dumbly after a moment of thinking. Immediatley my mind had gone where I hadn't wanted it - stupid, considering he could google all the porn he wanted, and Heidi obviously had some kind of sex tape, which I'm sure he could get from her without payment if he wanted to look at a woman that badly.

"Uh, you're wrong about that." Flustered, he dragged himself off the mattress. I traced his footsteps back to the kitchen, tracking him until he was back in sight, a bag concealing whatever it was. "Two things, actually. I'm going to need you to humour me a little."

"What, Gar?" I groaned. It was too late at night for this - I wished he'd waited until morning.

"So, um, I went to the drug store again today, and I got…it's so we can check your blood pressure at home; your doctor recommended it before we left. So that you don't have to go to hospital every time you faint." His words were too fast, jumpy, as he waited for me to complain about it.

It wasn't the worst idea. The nurses had made it very clear that I was supposed to come back for a check up whenever I went down, but I'd never stepped foot in the hospital since Garrett had bailed me out. My silence worried him.

"You okay?" he asked slowly. "It's to help you, Carlisle; it's not safe that we don't go back to the doctor like they told us, and-"

"It's good, Garrett, I know we should have it. I don't know how to use it, though." I shuffled closer to him, prompting his arm to drop around me again.

"I can teach you. Alistair as well. The pharmacist showed me." He calmed down a little, softly kissing the top of my head. "One more thing."

I didn't care anymore; we both needed to get some sleep. I just nodded in response.

"I, um, I got you a heart rate tracker - for my sanity more than yours. It's just a watch, but we can program it to send an alert to our phones if your pulse gets too high; the nurse said your heart was racing in the hospital whenever you faint. Maybe if we can catch it in time, we can stop you from falling so often - you can't be hitting your head so much; you'll get a brain bleed because of that damn disorder if you do it hard enough." The rambling was worse this time, and he was squeezing my fingers so hard I'd lost circulation in my fingertips.

The doctor had mentioned that to me as well. That I'd need a CAT scan if I gave myself a concussion. It was a real effort to rein in the grumble I almost let out. "It's…"

"Invasive, I know. But we've got to make this safer for you. Please don't be upset, I can't force you to wear it, but I don't know how else to manage this. I don't want you to have to spend so much time away from home if we can avoid it; you've been doing better since you've come home - outwardly at least." His face was getting warm as he worried, starting to stammer as he waited for me to reject it.

"I'll wear it," I agreed, trying to keep the reluctance out of my tone. "But you have to let me pay for it-"

"Don't," he grumbled back.

I forced myself up onto my elbow to look at him. "No, those things are expensive, and you already can't work that many hours because of me, so-"

He cut me off. "Carlisle, I cheated. I had an affair. I broke up our engagement. I made your health worse. Not you. Let me do this."

If nothing else, I had to shut my mouth for lack of response. I couldn't exactly reassure him it was alright.

"Please." He was squeezing my hand again. "I know it doesn't make up for anything, but if I can help, then I want to."

Sighing, I dropped my head back to his shoulder, pulling my hand out of his to wrap around his middle. "Thank you."

He audibly swallowed. "Put it on?"

"Now?" Again, the child in me wanted to be a dick about it.

"Yeah. Please."

"Uh, I guess." I hadn't realised he had the damn thing charged and ready to go.

"And I can show you the app on your phone? I've already linked it to mine." He'd seized my hand as he spoke, holding my wrist against his abdomen while he fumbled with the bag to get it out.

"Sure." That was more sarcastic than I intended. Both of us winced. "Sorry. It's a good idea, Gar, I just…I hate all of this - not just the watch and the machine, all of this. I'm aware I'm difficult." The fatigue was suddenly overwhelming, and I was glad he'd taken the liberty of doing it for me if it meant that I didn't have to move.

He failed at hiding a smile now that he had my approval. "You're not difficult; this whole situation is."

"Mmm."

His fingers paused around the buckle. "Are you feeling sick?"

"Sleepy," I corrected. I sucked in a deep breath to wake myself up a little. "You have to actually sleep tonight; no more staying awake all night.

"I will; get some rest, Carlisle."

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