Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Shape Of My Heart 6/7

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Previously on...

And now...


The fire continued to fascinate them both, neither of them seemingly able to pull away from its hypnotic glow. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the lambent flames, he finally ventured quietly, "Will you leave the Planet?"

Trying not to acknowledge how much those words speared hurt in his chest, how hard it had been to force them out, he sensed her turn her head to view him. He tensed.

"Huh?"

"When you...marry Luthor. Will you leave the Planet?"

He was aware of his breath stilling, his heart thudding painfully against his chest as he waited for her answer, but when it came it surprised him.

"Weren't you listening to anything I just said?" she said, with some asperity. "What makes you think I'm going to say yes?"

He turned to look at her, frowning. "Well, what woman could say no? Whole rooms full of flowers? Expensive jewelry? Flying you off to some Italian opera at a moment's notice?" <I could give you that at least> he thought wistfully. His tone had taken on an increasingly bitter note as he spoke. "What woman wouldn't appreciate all that?"

"Any woman who wasn't Anna Nicole?" Lois said tartly and as he looked surprised, "Clark, don't you think I know what life would be like with Lex as my husband? Yes, I'll admit, it's been fun...dating him. And if you *ever* bring up the word date and Lex in the same breath again, I swear I'll gut you with a blunt spoon! So I was...wrong on that. Okay? So it was dating. So what? And, yes. It was fun. He was fun. He's...smart. Witty and charming. And, yes, I can't say it isn't nice for a girl to be swept off her feet, showered with attention...and, if nothing else, Lex can be very...attentive - "

"But?" he said, intrigued now and desperate to interrupt her anyway. He didn't think he could stand her to add another word to that list of Luthor's attributes and that last one had wandered way too close to the sickening mind pictures that had kept him awake in the small hours of the morning all these months whenever she'd been keeping company with that sociopath to be easily borne.

"But it's not real," she said next, surprising him all over again. "It's a fantasy, just like Superman. It doesn't mean anything." He winced, but she failed to notice. "*I* don't mean anything to Lex. You think I don't know that his secretary ordered those bouquets? Chose that jewelry? She probably even wrote the cards that came with them. I'd be surprised if it wasn't just pre-printed and shoved under Lex's nose for a signature. And I seriously doubt he picked out the ring either. She probably fit that one in on her lunch break. Between picking up the tuna sub and dropping off her dry-cleaning."

She glanced down at where she'd been rubbing restlessly at the ring finger of her left hand as she spoke and sighed.

"Clark, do you remember the Smallville Corn Festival? That silly, stuffed bear you won for me? That stupid bear means more to me than any gift Lex gave me. Because I know it means something. My best friend gave it to me and he didn’t delegate winning it to some flunkey. I'd rather have a single rose from a friend than a whole roomful of bouquets from Lex. Because I know that one rose came from the heart of a man who cares about me."

Clark stared at her, torn in two by the swirl of emotions battling tempestuously inside him. The storm was less frigid now, but no less violent. A part of him couldn't help but soften as he listened to her affirm her feelings for him, a fierce, wild elation welling up in his heart, its rough pounding testament to his joy. And yet....

And yet. There it was again. Friends. She loved him. As a good friend. No more than that. And that couldn't help but sour his pleasure to something more bitter than sweet. Pulled between the two extremes of the unwanted lover – joy and despair - he couldn't speak, couldn't move, as she continued, oblivious to the way she was tearing his heart apart.

"Lex - I'm a convenience for him. Saves him having to waste business time looking for a date," she said sadly. "Oh, I'd get the jewels, the plane rides to expensive restaurants, best seats in the house...but I'd also get nights spent eating dinner alone while my husband jets around the world signing power deals. Diamonds can be a pretty cold companion, Clark. Anyway..." she concluded softly. "I don't love Lex."

<You don't love me either.>

And that was really the crux of it, wasn't it? He was a good friend – her best friend - and she cared about him. But she didn't care enough.

And...maybe she shouldn't. What could he offer her that Luthor couldn't? Hooking her life to him came as a package deal and Superman could make the average workaholic, Type A personality look like a beach bum when it came to abandoning his personal life to do what he must. For pity's sake, most days of the week he couldn't even find time to do his laundry. How could he find the hours to devote to a wife and family? Lois would end up spending those nights alone just as often – more often – than she ever would have by accepting Luthor.

And without the compensations.

No. All he could offer was a lifetime of uneaten dinners congealing on the table, nights spent in a cold and lonely bed...

He squeezed his eyes tight shut. He couldn't do that to her. And then, what she'd said fully registered with him, cutting through his maudlin thoughts. He opened his eyes with a jolt. She didn't love Luthor. And if she didn't -

"You don't?" He paused, then said carefully, "He can give you everything you've ever wanted." A small, disbelieving voice deep in the back of his head was urgently yelling that this was no time to play devil's advocate, but he ignored it.

"No..." She shifted abruptly, turning to face him earnestly. "...no, you see that's just it. I don't think he can, Clark. Can you really see Lex letting his wife run around town investigating crime?"

"I can see him trying to stop you - and ending up in hospital in traction," said Clark, his tone testifying to the fact that this wasn't altogether an unpleasant mind picture.

A small smile was his reward. Then it became a full-fledged grin. "You see, that's what I love about you, Clark." A slim finger poked him impishly in the chest. "You know better than to get in my way."

Clark looked back at her soberly, ignoring the sharp and sudden ache in his chest that casual affection from her caused.

<That's what I love about you...>

He swallowed hard over the tightening of his throat, shoved back the deep and bitter longing for her to say those words and mean them the way he wanted her to mean them.

The way she never would.

"And Lex...gets in your way?" he said hoarsely, knowing such cravings were futile.

"He would. He'd want me to be the perfect little corporate wife. And I...don't love him enough to change. I can't become that, Clark. Hanging on his arm at charity functions, schmoozing and simpering all night just so he could disappear into some backroom and sign another deal? Just another branch of the PR dept? Spending my days at the hairdresser and having pins stuck in me by some snooty madame at some terribly in-vogue fashion house? I'm sure Lex has a list of acceptable beauty establishments to see and be seen in. Seriously," she rolled her eyes, "can you imagine?"

No. No he couldn't. His heart was beginning to stutter hard in his chest as it bound itself to a wild hope. If she didn't love him and she didn't want to marry him.... "Are you saying....?"

Lois drew in a soft breath. "Tonight, at dinner, I was going to tell him no."

For one moment, as those words detonated in his head and dizzied him with their sparkle, Clark was almost sorry she hadn't made that date. The thought immediately punctured his delight. Was he really that petty? If I can't have her, you can't either?

But he knew that wasn't it. Exactly. If the right man came along, he knew he'd be happy for her. At least...he'd try to be. And if he couldn't quite bring himself to it, he'd never let her see that he was anything other than that. But that man wasn't Luthor. And he could never have supported her in any union with the billionaire criminal. He'd had to fight with every breath in him, everything he had, to stop that, because he knew, as she did not, that it would undoubtedly be a fatal error.

"But...then why did you ask me what I thought you should do?" he asked, confused now.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You really *weren't* listening, were you?" She sighed and then before he could admit that actually now she mentioned it, no he hadn't been, she said, "I might not love Lex, but he's been a good friend and we've had...fun...together these past few months. And..." She bit down on her lip and shrugged helplessly. "...well you know me, Clark. I don't deal with this kind of thing real well. I just wanted...I don't want to leave it gone sour, you know? I want to let him down gently, not have him walk away hurt or mad. That's what I wanted your advice on. How to let him down gently. You know, kind of from...the male perspective...."

"Oh," he said. His tone didn't include much of sympathy for Luthor, but he wasn't going to apologize for that. Especially when his – male perspective – was already occupied with coping with his own, painful rejection. "I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I'm...glad," he said. "That you're saying no." And as she glanced at him, tried to qualify that, "I mean – "

She shook her head and reached up to lay a finger against his lips, stopping him in his tracks. "I know," she said. "I understand. Oh, Clark..." She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, you know? I know I don't deserve you, but – "

"You deserve more, Lois. You deserve better." He had moved before he thought, drawing her into his embrace, and if some of his dreams had been dashed into oblivion on the rocks of friendship this evening, he could still feel a quiet satisfaction in the fact that she came easily into his arms with casual faith and trust.

His hands tightened around the slim body held against him and he lowered his head to lay his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes as he drank in the perfume of her, that unique collection of scents that defined her, steeling himself against the moment coming when he would have to let her go.

Let her go and shut his feelings away in a darkened corner of his mind. Be her friend. Be her partner. Nothing more. The end of all his hopes and dreams.

Better the end of his than hers, he told himself.

The slight susurration of her sigh touched his throat like a caress.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that, Clark," she murmured against his skin as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the simple pleasure of holding her against him. And if a part of him – a small part – wanted to pretend – just for a moment, one small moment - that she was there for more than a friend's comfort, that this was the embrace of lovers, well, where was the harm in that?

"I never intended to...wanted to...drag you into this." She shook her head slightly, her hair tickled at his cheek. "I thought I'd die rather than let you know I'd been so dumb to mistake what's been happening between Lex and me all these months."

"You could never be dumb – " Clark stared an automatic protest, made slightly more absent by the fact that his mind had begun torturing him over what exactly she might mean by 'happening between Lex and me'. But she went on, ignoring his attempts to defend her.

"But I just didn't know what to do and, well - " She gave a small, self-mocking laugh. " - guess this place worked on me a little there. Candlelight and log fires. They seem to bring out the confessional in me." She shifted to poke a finger in his chest. "Which you should just forget I mentioned and don't even think about using it against me in future, Kent," she advised gruffly.

The small amusement died though and she paused, then said more quietly, "But I know how you hate talking about him." She lifted her head, pulling back slightly so that she could see his face. Her own was puzzled. "I guess...I just don't understand why you hate him so much."

"Don't you?" he whispered.

She shook her head again; but something deep within the gaze she locked with his told him differently. She knew. Perhaps she always had. The knowledge of that he found in the dark depths fixed on him, that starkly wondering gaze that drew him in and drowned him, gave him sudden courage. He reached out a trembling hand, fitting his palm to the soft curve of her cheek.

And suddenly he was lost. Lost in the feel of her in his arms, of the scents of her surrounding him, of the soft mist of her breath against his cheek. Lost in the middle of the illusion. And all at once, logic, reality, his determination to do what was best for her, no matter the yearnings of his own heart, all of it was swept away, meant nothing beneath the clamoring, siren call of desire that was flooding through him.

She was trembling beneath his touch. "Clark..." she protested, tone hushed, but whatever she'd been about to say was lost as he leaned in and captured her lips with his own.

~@*****@~

No.

No, this wasn't right. This wasn't...

...what...

...she...

...wanted...

...this...

...was...

Lois relaxed against her partner with a small sigh that melted into a moan. Oh god, this wasn't...this was...this was...oh, this really wasn't a good idea.

The lips moving against hers were insistent, demanding...

She tried to pull away – at least she thought she tried and she was sure if she had tried Clark would have let her go – but his hands were spread tight across her back, trapping her against the solid wall of his chest, imprisoning her against the length of his body and....

A sigh escaped her and from a far distance she was aware of melding herself to that tantalizing hardness, pressing herself wantonly against him, deepening the kiss. She heard him groan against her lips and a sudden, savage satisfaction soared up in her, the instinctive pleasure of a woman in the arms of her lover and fully aware of the devastating effect she was having on him. Her arms wound themselves around his neck...

They wouldn't have ended up on the sofa if it hadn't been for her stupid ankle.

As it was, her shifting posture destroyed her balance completely as the weakened foot traitorously refused to bear her weight and unexpectedly tipped her sideways. She landed hard and he on top of her, but lost now in the gathering storm, the rising heat, neither of them paused in their explorations. Dimly, Lois felt the softness of chenille against her back as she relaxed fully into the cushions, the weight of him pressing her down. She closed her eyes, head falling back to present more of her throat to him, the throat his lips were trailing soft, moist kisses across, the sensations a butterfly flutter against her skin that caused a similar, answering quiver deep in her belly...

A sharp, wavering howl rose abruptly from outside the cabin.

Lost in the intensity of the last few minutes, Lois started violently and felt Clark freeze against her.

"Holy - !" she whispered, startled. "What the *hell* was that?"

As though in answer, the sound came again – an eerie, undulating wail from out in the night – out in the yard – that prickled at the hairs on the back of her neck, a few million years of evolution sending instinctive terror through her. Her hands, which had mysteriously found their way to clutching at her partner's shoulders, spasmed, tightening against the material of his sweater.

"Wolves!" she blurted as every primal instinct buried inside her raised her hackles at the unearthly sound and the memory of her earlier terrors came back abruptly to haunt her.

There was a soft sound against the side of her neck – a curious mixture of amusement and pique – and then Clark raised his head abruptly.

"Somehow, I doubt it," he said wryly.

That humor died in him though as he caught her eyes for an instant before looking away. He cleared his throat roughly and then moved off her, somewhat gingerly she noted absently, getting to his feet and adjusting his glasses as he went.

As he moved...towards the door.

Lois bolted to her feet too and hobbled rapidly after him – well, as rapidly as she could – to clutch urgently at his arm. "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Don't go *out* there!" she hissed. "Clark...!" she protested, as he didn't stop, but waved her down.

Great. She was starring in every cheap horror flick she'd ever huddled beneath her blankets in bed to watch. Any moment now her...well, not her boyfriend, that certainly didn't match the script...her partner was going to be leapt on out of the dark by...something. Something with big teeth and lots of claws, no doubt. She was going to go down in history as the first reporter whose partner got eaten by a werewolf, she just knew it, she thought acerbically. And right after he'd kissed her too! Wasn't that always the way? People who kissed other people they shouldn't kiss in snowbound cabins for no good reason other than it 'seemed like a good idea at the time' always ended up being eaten by werewolves. Or axed to death by Jason in a ski mask, she considered. Usually around about the second reel.

Oh god...Clark had kissed her.

*Kissed* her.

Worse. She'd let him!

Worse than that. She'd kissed him back!

Lois glanced behind her, her mortified gaze taking in the sofa, the rumpled blankets...and felt her face suddenly flame with heat.

The creak of the door snapped her head around and she shoved the sharp, provocative memories whirling in her head savagely aside. Her partner was heading straight into trouble and this was no time for the vapors over a...a...

Kiss.

No!

She wasn't thinking about *that*. Remember? She was *thinking* about her dumb, mule-headed partner – who was, surprisingly, a rather good kisser – who knew? Not about...

...about...

Shaking her head sharply, she followed Clark, apprehensive, as he unlocked the front door and opened it just enough to push through the gap. <Focus, Lois. No! Not on that! On...whatever it is out *there*!>

She peeked around what had become a reassuringly solid shoulder as he emerged onto the porch. The night air, frigid, swirled around them and she shivered, trying to search out hidden attackers in all directions at once.

Then she saw it.

And it was hideous.

In the middle of a puddle of moon glow sat a somewhat rotund yellow Labrador. It turned its head as they came out and then, with what she could only describe as a look of relief which probably matched the one she was currently sporting, lumbered to its feet and headed for them, tail slowly waving, as Clark crouched down on the stoop, patting hands against his knees in invitation to join them. Lois surprised herself with the soft sigh that escaped her lips, only in that moment did she realize just how tense she'd been holding herself.

<Geez, get a grip, Lois,> she admonished herself. <You've been watching too much TV. Werewolves?> She snorted, allowing herself the luxury of being amused at how ridiculous a thought that was...now that it had proved unfounded.

As the dog clambered up the steps with the stiff-jointed motions of the elderly, she could see from the gray on its muzzle, too, that it wasn't a young animal. As it came close, Clark reached out and took hold of the dog's head in both hands, rubbing at the matted, sodden fur. "Hey, there old fella. You lost, too?"

The dog gazed at him with soulful eyes and then tentatively licked his hand.

"How'd he get way out here?" Lois asked, scanning the darkness.

Clark shrugged. "No idea. But I guess he's lucky he found us. He's soaked through." His hands had gravitated to rubbing just behind the old dog's ears. It closed its eyes, making a low, rough sound deep in its throat that Lois swore was crooning. She felt herself flush brighter, remembering that her own reaction to the touch of his hands on her

<his hands on her skin, roaming her body...>

had not been that dissimilar, just a few moments ago.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Clark rose to his feet. "Come on, boy." He gave her a small smile as he held open the door in an invitation the dog didn't have to be given twice. Lois followed them inside and couldn't help but chuckle as, once inside the cabin's haven, the animal moved in a straight and unwavering line for the fire. It slumped down in a heap before the flames, gave them a solemn look, and then lowered its head on its paws and slipped into a doze, blinking drowsily in what must be the welcoming heat.

"Make yourself at home, why don't you?" Lois told it. The dog gave a groan and shifted onto its side, stretching out and heaving a heavy sigh.

She exchanged a glance with Clark and he grinned. "Looks like he's got the right idea anyway," he said.

She nodded, solemn now that the crisis was resolved. Now that she could focus on what had happened back there, a moment ago. "Clark – "

"Lois, I'm sorry," he interrupted her, looking shame-faced. "I never should have – "

She held up a quick hand, stopping him. He looked as shaken as she was, she thought in relief. At least he had enough sense for that. But he was reaching out for her again, his eyes so dark and soft on her and full of miserable apology that she felt the tug towards him that started deep in her belly begin its irresistible pull....

She hauled in a shuddering breath. Folded her arms tight beneath her breasts. Tried to make her face form its most forbidding look. Armored herself tight. Closed down the shutters.

Hid herself behind high walls.

She frowned at the errant thought that tried to shatter her resolve. She wasn't hiding. She wasn't...scared. She was just...being sensible, that was all. It would be easy – so terribly, so wonderfully easy – to give in to this...attraction. And it would be the most disastrous thing she'd ever do if she did. For both of them.

Yes, that was it. She was protecting both of them.

"Look, let's just chalk it up to one more absurdity in the middle of this crazy night, okay? It never happened."

"Lois – "

"It. Never. Happened," she said firmly. "All right?" She sighed as he stayed silent, a tense frown puckering his forehead. "Clark, I'm exhausted. You must be too. Let's just try and get some sleep, forget about it."

He hesitated another moment, then acquiesced with a shrug. It was a gesture that said more than eloquently that he was less than sure there wasn't a conversation to be had about this at some point in the future, but that for now, he was happy enough to take her lead and pretend they could just ignore it. And Lois had never loved him more than she did right then, for being willing to go along with that, just because she'd asked for it. She really was too tired to deal with this now. Not to mention her insides were a jangle of nervous fluttering and her emotions a quivering wreck. She felt on the verge of tears. Sober heart to hearts were definitely a really bad idea right now. Not when she was this vulnerable and liable to collapse in a heap of weeping on his shoulder at any moment.

"Got blankets and a pillow with your name on them right here," he said, gesturing a hand in invitation at the sofa. "You'd best hurry up and get back under before you freeze. Or before Old Yeller there decides the sofa is more comfortable than that hearth," he added wryly.

Like their new yellow friend, Lois didn't need a second invitation.

~@*****@~

He thought about offering to go find himself another place for the night.

How could she want to be this close to him now when he had all but...molested...her just a few moments earlier? How could she trust him not to pounce on her in the night?

He slid carefully beneath their shared blankets, trying to limit contact as best he could as he moved to stretch out alongside her, even though it was impossible not to feel her settled against him. Long legs pressed up against his own...for a moment he was transfixed by the memory of those legs entangled with his own as he'd lain atop her...of the scent of that particular patch of skin in the hollow of her throat, salt and sweet...of the way her body had...he closed his eyes, feeling himself grow hot with the memory – and to his dismay it wasn't all about shame. A wash of remembered sensation flooded through him as he was assaulted by images of her there – here on this sofa – her soft curves pressed against him, the throaty sounds of pleasure that had begun to thrum against his lips as he'd tasted her skin...

His eyes flew open as he felt the sofa sag next to him, heard the springs creak, and he tensed up again as Lois shifted position. He wasn't aware that he was holding his breath until suddenly he couldn't breathe...

He exploded into a storm of choking coughs, almost doubling over as he hauled in a frantic breath.

"Clark? Clark! Are you okay?"

He tried to nod as Lois leaned in close, putting a hand to his shoulder, and finally getting himself under control gave her a thumbs up. Breathing was over-rated. Being powerless was over-rated, he thought, grumpily. He'd never had trouble holding his breath before now.

"Fine," he choked out finally. "Just...uh...blanket dust caught in my throat..."

Lois frowned at him, then shook her head. "You should see a doctor about your allergies, Clark."

He nodded. "Right. I will. First thing we get back home," he declared, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than the promise warranted. But Lois wasn't listening. She'd settled herself into a somewhat awkward position beside him. After a second or two, she shifted, maneuvering herself into another that looked only slightly less uncomfortable. He looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was doing. Then realized she was trying to stretch out to prop her injured ankle on the sofa's arm while maintaining at least an inch's worth of clear space between them.

"Lois..." he started softly and then sighed. This was ridiculous. There was no way she was going to be comfy like that. The sofa was a little more generous than many of its kind, but it wasn't huge and options for two people sharing were limited. No way either of them was going to get any sleep at all unless they...got a little more intimate.

<Closer. A little closer,> he amended, uncomfortable with the I-word right then.

"Here…" He reached to put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her gently back against his chest. She hesitated, stiffening against the touch for an instant. "I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman," he assured her, trying for a smile. "You know me – never make the same mistake twice."

She snorted, responding just as he'd hoped she would. "As if, Kent. If it wasn't for me looking out for your hide out there in the big city, you'd be toast by now."

She didn't comment further on his promise, but she relaxed against him without protest or wariness, despite the awkwardness between them. To his surprise – and relief – however, he felt nothing of the heat that had fired him earlier as she snuggled up under his arm, draped a loose arm across his middle, and laid her head against his chest with a small sigh. This time he offered simple comfort. As that good friend. And instinctively understanding it was offered on that basis, she accepted.

Earlier had just been...an aberration. Born out of circumstance and atmosphere. That was all. They'd almost let themselves be seduced by the night, by the candlelight and the cabin's coziness. The clichés of a thousand romance novels, he thought, eaten by self-contempt. He was glad Lois had had the sense to realize that, to stop it, before they had gone too far. But he wouldn't fall into the trap again. Nothing good could come of them surrendering to that. Not now that she'd made her feelings so clear.

Friends.

Not now that this heart to heart had made him realize just how wrong it would be to shackle her to a future defined as Superman's wife, how restrictive that would be for her, how unfulfilling. He had been telling himself all along that Luthor wasn't right for her, all these months she'd been dating the man he'd been telling himself that she should be with him. Now he understood for the first time just how selfish that belief had been. He had no more right to clip her wings than Luthor did. It was a hard truth to accept. But he knew it for the truth now. With him she'd end up just as miserable as he believed she would have with Luthor. Just as lonely. Just as bitter. He couldn't do that to her.

For a moment, he let himself drift helplessly over the thought of how things might be different if there was no Superman. He'd been worrying himself since the assault on him over what would happen, what his life would become, if his powers never returned, if Superman had effectively vanished during that bank raid. Now, a small, selfish part of him dared to voice the dark, demeaning hope that perhaps he could be free of the superhero once and for all. And if there was no Superman...might friends become...something more? If he had more to offer her...if he had time to spare her...all the time in the world to make her all that was important to him in the world, only her and no one else. If he could only love her as he longed to, if he could only show her how much she meant to him...

He closed his eyes tight, fighting back the sting of tears. Life was never that easy. Never so simple. He knew that. He'd left such childish dreams of a perfect world and of getting all you wished for behind him long ago. And no amount of wishing on shooting stars now would change things. He couldn't give up Superman. Couldn't wish for it either. He knew that he had to think of the bigger picture, even as that distant part of him raged against the unfairness of it, despaired at the cruelty. Even if it meant...

Losing her.

His arm tightened around her reflexively with the thought and she shifted, murmuring under her breath, already drowsing into sleep. He forced himself to relax, lay quiet and still, letting the sensations of holding her like this soothe him into something approaching sleep. The sound of her breath, evening out now, the touch of her heart against his own, beat in his ears like a lullaby.

He opened his eyes. Looked down at the dark head tucked beneath his chin. A welling affection had his hand shifting to touch the tips of his fingers lightly to one soft cheek for a moment, before he drew it away again. He settled himself more firmly against her, seeking the solace of her warmth, taking what crumbs he could get, what little he could ask. Knowing it would never be enough, yet knowing it was all he had.

So...

Friends.

He could do that. For her, he could do anything.

Even this.

tbc...