i would like to dedicate this chapter to 'carolarized' - my most faithful reader out there. Thanks, I wouldn't still be writing J/A if it wasn't for you.

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SIX MONTHS LATER
TWO WEEKS AFTER DAY 3

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Hurriedly Jack grabbed the few things on his bedside table and stuffed them into his bag again. Well, actually he didn't have to hide any more, right? Nevertheless, he didn't want these things to lie around openly, nor he wanted anyone to see them.
Seeing the pity in their eyes, when they'd look at him… like he needed that.

He jumped off the bed and ran over to the door. For sure, it was Michelle, she had wanted to come over to give him one of the tickets for the return flight to Los Angeles tomorrow.
They had been here in D.C. for only one day, for a DoD debrief, but he was glad that it only was one day.
Tiredly he opened up the door, ready to be short with her. Her attitude towards him had changed a lot, ever since she knew he was addicted.

He froze.
It was not Michelle, out there.

It was Audrey.

They stood there, for a few moments, not knowing what to say. He hadn't seen her or talked to her in over five months.

She watched him, through the small gap, his face behind the door chain. She had seen him at DoD today morning, but probably he hadn't seen her in the crowds. Ever since she wasn't an advisor to the intelligence committee any more, she had lost track of him and his mission.
It had been over five months, since she'd talked to him for the last time.

"You didn't call.", she silently said, looking into his eyes.
For a moment, she wondered if it had been a mistake to come here. It hadn't been that hard for her to find out where he was. They had rooms at Cliffside Regent's hotel again, their standard hotel for DoD guests. She had made so many reservations here during the past years that she could get any information from the reception that she wanted.

Today, as she had seen him at DoD, she had been shocked about how different he looked like. His face was tanned by the Mexican sun. He hair looked brighter. He looked skinnier than half a year ago, probably that was a toll that the addiction had taken.

He closed the door for a short moment and removed the chain, still not having said a word.

She found him wearing a pair of faint blue-jeans and a grey T-shirt. Somehow, that fit him better than wearing a suit, like today morning at DoD.

"When the mission was over", he admitted, finally. "They found out on their own."

The words he said felt like he was saying them as an excuse. Well, were they? Actually they were. She remembered giving him her number to have at least someone to talk to, since he wanted to tell nobody else.
They had found out.
Actually, he had had no need to call her.

"So I heard.", she slightly nodded her head.

"Sorry. But there are so many ugly details of this mission that I can't talk about."

"No need to apologize.", she sighed. What had she expected? "How are you?"

He looked up, into her eyes, sadly smiling. "Next question, please." He wanted to ask her why she was here, but he didn't have the heart to do it. Would it drive her away? Most likely. Did he want to drive her away? He wasn't sure about that. Actually he just wanted to go back inside to finish what he'd started: getting a fix.

"Have you eaten anything today?", she asked.

He slightly shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

She could see that he had lost a lot of weight over the course of the past months. There was no gram of fat anywhere on him anymore. But she guessed that it didn't make him stronger. Right now, she wasn't really sure if he'd pass the DoD fitness test once more. Aside of the muscles of his arms and his chest, he almost looked skinny. She could see his contours through the grey t-shirt that he was wearing.

"Audrey, I don't want your pity.", he finally said, after getting confirmed that none of them knew what to say.

"You really think I pity you?"

"Why else would you be here now?", he asked her. He wanted to talk to nobody about this all. Not about the things that had happened in Mexico, and not about anything that had to do with his addiction. As long as she had been the voice on a phone, the thought of talking to her had been bearable. But not now, facing her in person.

"I haven't seen or heard anything from you in months, Jack.", she began, unsure how to continue, "I just wanted to see how you are."

He derogatorily grunted. "You already knew how I'd be, it seems like the whole DoD knows about it." Wherever he came, he found the same view in these people's eyes. He hated their pitiful looks.

She slightly nodded her head, yes. "I was with you when you started to walk down this road, Jack, five months ago."

He looked into her eyes. Her view was different that all the others'.

"Ever since I saw you today morning, I was wondering if I made a big mistake ever letting you do this mission.", she murmured. She had known it months ago, that he had started to become addicted. She could have used that information at any time to halt the mission. "I guess I shouldn't even have let you go down that road in the first place."

He took a deep breath and leant against the wall next to the door, his hands in his pockets.

She spotted the tattoo on his left forearm and somehow her view got lost on the crook of his arm. Don't stare at it, she damned herself and looked up into his eyes again.

The soft smile on his face told her that he had already caught her staring. And for now, it almost felt okay.

"I missed you at the committee hearing today.", he said, "I thought I'd meet you there."

"I don't work for the committee anymore.", she sighed, "Ever since the elections. I'm a policy advisor to the Secretary of Defense now."

"Wow, sounds like a mighty promotion." He was surprised to hear that, but judging from what he'd seen of her work, she deserved it. "Congratulations."

She saw the smile on his face and unwillingly had to smile back. It was not faked. And it got into her mind that he'd meant what he'd said. He didn't know that the Secretary of Defense was her father… and one of the reasons for the promotion.
"Thanks.", she answered. He was genuinely happy for her. But she didn't even dare ask about his job status. Probably the answer wouldn't be nice to hear. "Clearance level 9 now", she added, halfway smiling, "There's nothing anymore that we couldn't talk about.", she joked.

She made him laugh.
He stood there, wondering when he had laughed like that for the last time.
He couldn't even remember.

It was rude to leave her standing out here, in the hallway. Then again, he didn't want to go down to the bar or to the restaurant to talk to her. Too many people who'd see them.
Though he knew how strange it was to say that to her, he let the door to his room swing open a little bit, asking her, "Wanna come in?"
Was he really inviting a woman, a stranger to him, a senior advisor to the Secretary of Defense into his hotel room? He saw the surprised look in her eyes.
"We shouldn't discuss clearance level 9 details out here… or anywhere else", he added, like an excuse. He was relieved when he saw a little smile on her face.

"Okay.", she finally murmured, watching him give the door another push, walking past him, into the room.

He eyed her from head to toe, as she walked past him. She wore a dark red skirt, an elegant blouse, shoes that looked like they cost a few hundred Dollars. An expensive handbag hung over her shoulder, and in her right hand she had a small bag that she put down on the coffee table in front of the couch, over by the window.

Jack closed the door again and went over to her, watching her back, while she was looking out of the 7th floor window, waiting for him.
It had been a while, since he had encountered such a classy woman for the last time. He reminded himself to treat her adequately – and get some distance to the things that he had done in the past months, undercover with those drug lords. That were two different worlds.

"What's in there?", he asked, pointing at the bag that she had put down on the coffee table. The way she'd put it there, it looked like she wanted him to have a look at it.

"Have a look.", she answered, and sat down at the couch. It was a decent hotel room. Not as good as the ones that she usually stayed in, but there was enough space, this couch with a coffee table and two leather armchairs, another table, a large bed and from over here she could see a really decent bathroom at the other end of the room.

He opened up the bag and found a few boxes of Chinese take-away food.

"You look like you haven't eaten anything in days, Jack", Audrey commented, taking one of the boxes and a set of chopsticks out of the bag for herself. "You should grab something."

"I already said I'm not hungry.", he murmured.

They both knew that it was one of the side effects of being on heroin. That had also been one of the first side-effects that he had noticed, half a year ago. Completely losing one's appetite. He remembered talking to her about it.

Audrey resolutely grabbed one of the soups and put it down in front of him. "You look like death warmed up already.", she said to him, "You're gonna need some strength to go through all this."

Finally, he grabbed the spoon and ate a little bit, silently watching her.
Had she planned this beforehand, coming in here? Couldn't be. Had she just wanted to bring him something to eat? Well, possible, but unlikely. He counted the boxes – there were way enough for two persons. Had she initially bought that stuff for herself and her husband, and had changed her plans when he had asked her in?
He sneaked a peek at her hands. She didn't wear the wedding ring any more. But he didn't dare ask her about it.

They ate in silence, for a while.
From time to time, they glanced at each other, and whenever one of their glances caught the other's, they quickly looked away again, smiling, after it had happened for the third time.

"Thanks for dinner, Audrey.", Jack finally said, as he put down the empty bowl.

"Was it that bad, to eat something?", she remarked.

He shook his head. "No, absolutely not."

She grabbed herself another one of the boxes, not quite sure if she should also force him to eat one more. "I read about it. That doing heroin makes you lose your appetite.", she silently said. Then she grabbed one of the other boxes and put it down in front of him. "I got that confirmed when I saw you today morning at DoD."

Surprised, he first looked at her, then down on himself. "Really? Do I look that bad?" He hadn't really noticed the difference. Well, he had noticed that he was a bit slimmer than a few months ago, but it had happened gradually. He hadn't worried that much about it.

"Yeah", she tried to soft-soap the bad facts with a big smile. "You changed a lot, Jack. Probably you didn't even notice."

"How would you know, Audrey?", he silently answered, as he opened up that second box that she'd put down in front of him. Reluctantly, he dove a pair of chopsticks into the rice. "You only saw me for two days, half a year ago."

Her eyes found his. "And there were quite a few phone calls.", she added. The things that they'd talked about, they had at some point become deeply personal. She felt like she knew the one sitting over there, he was no stranger, even though she had only seen him briefly, half a year ago, during a few meetings.
Actually, she had to admit that she had eagerly been awaiting his return. And the call that he hadn't made.
Even though changing jobs at DoD, she had kept track of his mission, and she had really prayed that he'd come back in one piece. She had talked to Tony Almeida, every two weeks, pretending to get regular updates for the intelligence committee. While the committee couldn't have cared any less about that mission.

He turned back to the rice. He was aware that he had told her some things about himself that he had told nobody else. Partly, because there had been nobody else, partly, because he had been high as fuck during some of their conversations.
"I shouldn't have put you in that position.", he apologized, "To tell you all that and ask you to remain silent, though it compromised the mission… and even your job. I'm sorry."

"You really think I was worried about my job?", she asked, looking into his eyes. "I was worried about you."

They sat in silence.
He felt like she was looking right into his soul again. Within a few minutes only, she had again managed to get straight to his innermost core, exposing some of his thoughts and feelings that he usually kept locked away.

Embarrassedly, she turned to her food again. She felt like she had gone too far, saying that. It was too personal, and she didn't want this to get personal.
She watched him pick at the rice. The bites that he took became smaller and smaller. At one point, she felt bad for still pushing him like that. He was a grown man. "Leave it, if you're not hungry anymore.", she murmured, "Sorry for compelling you to eat."

He gladly put the box with the rice down on the table, still staring at it.

"I can't imagine how this feels like.", she sighed, looking at him. "Don't you feel any need to eat?"

He kept staring at the box with rice. "Sometimes, I do.", he told her, taking one of the chop sticks, playing around with it. "I guess it's not only the drugs that take your appetite away. It's also the thought of the hours thereafter."

She saw that sad view in his eyes, when he remembered things. "Why?"

"When the withdrawal symptoms start… one of the first things is that your stomach's gonna be mighty upset. And you don't want anything to be in there, that'll come up again.", he said, thinking of how long it would take him to see this rice again. Five hours, maybe six? "Unless you get another fix first."

He saw that she had stopped eating.
Probably because of his graphic description of one of the worst sides of being an addict. Embarrassedly, he apologized. "I shouldn't have said that while you were still eating."
He reminded himself again of who was here: she was not one of Salazar's cartel, she was not a cheap Mexican whore or a junkie or a dealer. He better mind his manners and his choice of words.

Demonstratively, she ate some more. "It's okay."

The more he talked and thought about his drug problem, the bigger his wish to get another fix grew. He'd have to throw her out for that… but he didn't want to. It was nice to have some company.
So he decided to postpone the fix until he could really wait no more. Maybe they had an hour or even two left.

"It seems you know all about me, Audrey", he began, "And I know hardly anything about you."

She wondered. Normally, this question would make her feel uncomfortable. Especially, when a man was asking it. But right now, it was different. Was it because getting anywhere closer to him was clearly off limits, having admitted being a junkie, and they both knew that?

"Didn't you run my name through the CTU database?"

He slightly shook his head no, looking softly into her eyes. "I don't wanna read some impersonal, unimportant stuff in a file. It usually doesn't depict the person correctly."

She thought back to when she had read his file, half a year ago. Well, she had had to read his file, there hadn't been much of a choice, since she had to get prepared for the committee hearing. An ex- Delta-force member, CIA and CTU agent, close to one hundred and eighty confirmed kills. Reading that file she hadn't actually ever wanted to be in on room with such a horrible man.
"I know what you mean.", she answered.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I had to read your file, half a year ago.", she answered, halfway smiling.

It drew a smile off his face, too. "Holy shit.", he remarked and leant back into chair that he was sitting at.

They both just laughed and decided to say nothing.

"I tried to read it once…", Jack began, "I got drowned in a bottle of whiskey before I even reached the end." It had been sickening to read about himself. About all the missions, about all the losses of friends.. about Teri. About factual reports of injuries, knowing how much they had all hurt.

She watched him closely. He didn't look like a killer, as he sat there, in a comfortable position, running his hand through his blonde hair from time to time, still having a faint smile on his face.

"Why did you start doing that kind of stuff?", she asked.

Kind of stuff. He knew what she meant with this. "I got the offer when I was in ranger training. And I took it.", he said, "Being asked to join Delta forces was an honor, one that you simply don't turn down."

"And why did you join the forces at all?"

He looked up, into her eyes again. Well, it was something that his file didn't tell. "Why did you join DoD?", he asked her back.

"I was first to ask!", she complained.

"You'd be a great interrogator", he commented, making them both laugh.

She knew why they were both laughing. It was what his file said about him.
As they had settled down, after white a while, he silently answered, "I guess I just wanted to get as far away from my family as possible."

"From your wife?"

"No. From my father", he shook his head, "I joined forces years before I got married." He looked at her beautiful face again, saying "You're really good at interrogating me. I asked you ten minutes ago and I still don't know anything about you."

She smiled. "What do you wanna know?", she asked, slipping her feet out of her high heels, to pull her legs up to the couch.

He saw that she wasn't minded to leave anytime soon. She was expecting their conversation to go on for a while, otherwise she wouldn't have settled to sit in this comfortable position.

"Do you have children?" It was a less blunt question than to ask directly about her marriage.

"No. And you?"

"I have a daughter.", he answered. She was turning the Q&A already around again. "Come on, you already knew that. We talked about her." She was just trying to wind herself out of telling him anything about her.

She nodded yes.

"And it's still my turn to ask."

Audrey sighed, smiling. She knew he refrained from asking her any too personal questions, because he didn't want to go down that road. She slid a little bit closer, to the end of the couch that was closest to the chair he was sitting at. "I'm not saying anything. You'll have to interrogate me, Agent Bauer.", she laughed.

"You wouldn't want me to do that." He smilingly looked into her eyes. God, she was gorgeous. He didn't know when he'd had such an easy going conversation for the last time. And her, having clearance level 9, definitely helped. He could talk about anything and everything, that was a real change.
He could never do any harm to her. He could never interrogate her, like he did with others. Deep down he knew that it would always be her, in charge of him.

"Do you have a gun here?", she asked.
He shook his head.
"Sodium Amytal?", she carried on asking.
Again he shook his head.
"Then you have nothing to interrogate me with.", she joked, leaning back.

"Give me your hand.", he ordered, leaning over to her.

Hesitatingly she leant over, too, and stretched out her left hand, to let him take it. First, he laid his fingers over hers, and then made her bend her fingers, almost as if to clench her fist. But he kept his hand around hers.
She was wondering what he was trying to show her.

He looked into her eyes. "What do I owe you for dinner?", he asked.

"Nothing."

It was exactly the answer that he had expected. He started pressing the ball of his hand against her fingertips. Not that much that he'd really hurt her, but her reaction showed him that she could feel where this was leading them, that he could interrogate her easily, his way.

"What do I owe you for dinner?", he asked again, trying to bite back the laughter, but it was hard.

"Nothing", she still teased him, but her features showed that she was feeling something in her fingers, just the smallest hint, telling her that this grasp could become painful.

He didn't want to exercise any more pressure. "You know that I've not even started to press you. But I could", he remarked, going there, just for a part of a second.

"But you never would", she dared him, roguishly grinning.

She was right. He never would do anything like that. "It seems you win.", he eased his grip around her fingers, until they just loosely lay in his hand. "No, actually I win. I got a free dinner."

"Stalemate?", she asked, laughingly.

"Okay."

Then she settled back into her comfy position on the couch.

Finally, Jack realized why he was so comfortable being here: she didn't treat him like all the others did. She didn't make his addiction the only topic they were talking about, she just treated him like a normal person, like any other man she'd talk to.
He guessed that she was the only one who still treated him like that.

He finally dared to ask what he had wanted to ask her the whole time. "Ain't there anyone home, waiting for you to return?"

She hugged her legs, shaking her head. "No." Saying that somehow made her sad, but then again, it was a feeling of pure freedom. "Not anymore." It had been three weeks since they had separated.

Jack watched her. She was drowned in thoughts, but these thoughts didn't seem to be only bad ones. "Must have been a damn idiot.", he remarked.

"Who? My husband?", she was surprised to hear that.

He nodded his head, slightly. "To let someone like you go."

She sat there, watching him. She answered nothing. It felt good to hear these words, but then again, she didn't know what to respond. Any other man would have probably leant over to kiss her now, or expected her to do that, but he didn't.
They both silently sat there, knowing that there were whole worlds, separating their lives. She as a top-level politician. He had just come out of hell, being undercover with a Mexican drug cartel.

"What's his name?", Jack asked, to resolve that awkward silence.

"Paul. Paul Raines. An English businessman.", she sighed.

"Mr. Bean's an idiot.", he remarked. "Like I said."

It made her laugh. "Stop it..", she laughed, bending over, holding her stomach. She couldn't get that picture out of her head again, of Paul's face, merging into Rowan Atkinson's.

He was glad that she was smiling again. The whole evening had been so nice that he almost feared that he had ruined it by getting to that topic.

After she got a grip of herself again, she turned over to him. "And is there anyone waiting for you in LA?"

He slightly shook his head. "I just came back from Mexico two weeks ago. I had to break all my bonds when I went there."

Audrey silently watched him, as he said that. She couldn't imagine how it was to break all the bonds and leave everything behind to go undercover. "How is it to come back then, when there's no one to come back to?"

"Strange.", he sighed. He wanted to say at least there's work to come home to. But not even that was true anymore. "Erin Driscoll, the new boss of CTU, she fired me. Effective once this debrief is over." He didn't even want to think about the future. "Tomorrow evening, when I get off the plane at LAX, I'll be a dope addict and unemployed.", he took a deep breath and straightened up again, "Let's talk 'bout something else."

"Of course.", she silently said.

The good mood had been replaced by silence.

"I didn't want this to get that personal, Audrey", Jack began, "I just saw that you don't wear your wedding ring any more. And you did, last time. I shouldn't have asked."

"What, you noticed that?", she said, surprised, having a look at her hands.

"Fifteen years in intelligence.", he remarked. Of course, he had learned always to look at the little things. But then again, he had noticed that detail last time already, because if she hadn't worn one… no, what the hell was thinking? It made and it had made absolutely no difference if she was married or not. She is and was off limits.

"We separated a few weeks ago.", she silently said, "I just didn't work out any more."

"So you threw him out?"

She shook her head. "No, I left.", she snorted, "I moved in with my father again. He's got a big house in Alexandria, just on the other side of Potomac river." She really had to find a new apartment soon. Or move to a hotel.

"I know where Alexandria is.", he answered, thinking this through. "So you came all the way here, just to see me?" Last time, when she had brought him here, to the hotel, half a year ago, she'd said that the Cliffside Regents' was on her way home. Coming from Alexandria it was a giant detour.

She finally realized that she'd made a mistake, saying that. "Shit. Now you caught me.", she tiredly answered. "When I got to my car, I just didn't know where to go.", she admitted, "I didn't really want to go to our house since I moved out… and dad's not gonna miss me either when I don't show up…" Talking about it was the same heap of yesses and noes about where to drive, like a few hours ago. "I wanted to go to our house and grab some things when I saw the hotel." Her eyes found his. He seemed to understand her, how torn she was.

"Did you and Paul at least try to mend things?", he silently asked. He knew that he was in no position to give her any advice. But hearing about separation and divorce made him think back, unwillingly. He'd been where she was now.

"Yeah, we tried. We already were separated a while, a year ago.", she murmured. "Seeing others", she silently added, "But this time I guess it will be final."

"It's not over until it's over."

She had to smile hearing that nonsense. "Right"

Jack got up and went over to the minibar. It felt like this evening wouldn't be over too soon, and he didn't want it to be over anytime soon. His flight would leave tomorrow, around noon. And thereafter, there would only be silence and nobody else to talk to. Even worse: even if he found anyone to talk to, that one wouldn't be on clearance level 9, meaning that he'd have to stay silent, about half his life.

Surprised to hear that she also wanted a beer he took out two bottles and went back over to her. He was even more surprised to see that she had slipped to the other end of the couch, making space for him to sit there, next to her, and not on the armchair where he'd sat before.

Hesitatingly he let his body drop to the place where she'd sat before.

Audrey watched him open up the bottle caps with a pocket knife. That was one thing she'd always admired men for – being able to open up those damn bottles with practically anything while she was still always searching for a bottle opener.

They clinked bottles since he hadn't found any glasses.

Audrey watched him drink. He almost emptied half of the bottle in one draught. Either he was just thirsty, or he was keen on getting the alcohol into his system. It wouldn't even be that far-fetched if he had developed a multiple-substance abuse problem.

Now that he was sitting closer to her, the occasional silence had become really awkward. On the outside, it had become dark long ago, while the had ate and talked.

She looked at his hands that lay in his lap. The t-shirt exposed the tattoo on his left forearm, and the ones on his upper arms.
"You didn't have that one, half a year ago.", she remarked, and grabbed his left wrist, to have a look at it.

"What, you noticed that?", he asked. She could have only seen his arms for a moment, half a year ago, while he was doing that fitness test.

"I hate tattoos. I would have noticed such a big one.", she said and had a look at it. It was a famous picture of the blessed virgin Mary. "Why that one?", she asked.

"It's the Salazar cartel's sign."

She looked up from his arm, into his eyes. "What, you didn't even get this voluntarily?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You got this for the sake of the mission?"

He nodded yes.

"You will have that for the rest of your life!", she loudly said, trying to make him understand how shocked she was.

"I'll be either a drug addict or an ex-drug addict for the rest of my life.", he said, "They could have also killed me, then I'd be dead for the rest of my life.", he added, "That's how being undercover works. That's a small thing only.", he said, referring to the tattoo. "I even like the picture somehow."

She had a look at it again, slightly shaking her head. There was not only a whole world separating them. Now it felt like a whole universe.

"What if they'd had an ugly skull as their logo?", she probed, already knowing the answer.

He smiled. "Would have been bad luck."

She had to admit that she was getting in touch with missions like his every day. Back in her days as advisor to the intelligence committee, they had treated three or four such missions every week.
And though she told herself that she had only kept an emotional distance from it all, she found herself thinking that she had not cared enough, about the men and women who were behind these missions. Often, they'd treated them like numbers, expecting them to do things that she didn't even want to think of.
She had never really gotten closer to anyone of them. Except for Jack, now.

And suddenly, the lines in these papers and protocols seemed awfully real to her, feeling his arm in her hands, looking at this sign that he'd carry for the rest of his life.
"At once… all these things are so horribly real", she remarked, softly running her fingers up his forearm, over his tattoo.

"Welcome to my life", he breathlessly added. "There's no turning back."

She stopped moving her hands further up, when she almost reached the crook of his arm. There were numerous small, red marks, punctures.

He saw what she was looking at. Anyone around here knew that he was a user. There was no need to hide this, therefore he didn't shoot up somewhere else, beneath his toenails or other hidden spots.
"The cover, pretending to be an ex-junkie, would have never worked out. They would have killed me right away.", he murmured.

Hesitatingly she ran her fingers up further, over the little red marks. The skin around them was a little bit swollen. She could feel it, when she touched it. "How old are these?"

"About 48 hours. They heal off after two days."

She counted the spots. Six. So was using quite frequently. She felt his hand tremble slightly. Maybe that was one of the first and most subtle symptoms of that he had gone too long without satisfying his body. "When was your last one?", she asked.

He hesitatingly answered. "Today morning." When she had knocked at his door, he had actually just been about to shoot up. He was overdue.
Now they both knew.

She looked up from his arm, to his face. "I better leave then, huh?", she said to him, and grabbed her bottle of beer, to finish it.

He drank a little, too. "I can delay it a little longer.", he told her, hoping that the alcohol would help. Usually, it did.
He didn't want her to go.
At least not now.

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