|Look at me
Author: IshiIchiMari PM
Ishida has lost his memories due to an infection caused by a hollow. Ichigo, feeling guilty due to the fact that he hadn't come to save the boy in time, is hoping that this can count as his second chance.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Ichigo K. & Uryuu I. - Chapters: 10 - Words: 50,091 - Reviews: 56 - Favs: 53 - Follows: 73 - Updated: 02-24-13 - Published: 04-13-12 - id: 8021305
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Look at me
Summary: Ishida has lost his memories due to an infection caused by a hollow. Ichigo, feeling guilty due to the fact that he hadn't come to save the boy in time, is hoping that this can count as his second chance. However, what happens when no matter what, the Quincy refuses to even regard him as nothing more than an 'acquaintance' and not accept friendship? Ichigo is going to have to do his best to hold every emotion in, but it's only a matter of time before he snaps.
A/N: Before you start this, I will tell you now; updates will be slow. I won't abandon this fic, but I have a lot already in progress, as well as a personal life to uphold.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or the characters. Just my writing.
Warning: Swearing, smut in later chapters, violence. Also, this is after the time skip. Which means their new hair styles, fighting techniques, etc… There may be spoilers, but not too much.
Chapter 1: To lose (Introduction)
A quiet beeping sound could be heard, along with the soft noises of someone shuffling their feet against the hardwood floor. The male who lay in bed, hooked up to a machine of some sort groaned softly as his brows creased in confusion. Panting slightly, pale fingertips curled into the blankets below him as he rose from his unconscious state and began to open his eyes. At first, he was met by a blindingly bright light and winced as he closed his eyes almost immediately afterwards. He could hear someone shout to 'close the curtains' and listened to the sounds of a chain being yanked and material whizzing by on hooks as the room became dim. Breathe quickening, he could feel a gentle hand take his own and he gave it a light squeeze as people continued to speak around him. He wasn't really sure what they were saying, or how the words affected him—due to something being injected into his arm that clouded his mind.
After a few minutes, the conversation died down to quiet whispers as he felt himself relax. Whatever it was that had been put into him was making the slight painful sensation he had earlier begin to vanish and die down. He was somewhat thankful, however he wasn't sure exactly where he was—or what had happened even. That, and what was going on. Why was in he in a bed, and who were the people around him? Had something happened to him that caused him to black out? He wasn't sure, but he did know that if he wanted these questions answered, he would have to open his eyes and see for himself.
Just as he was about to do so, he heard someone speak his name from his right. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wasn't sure exactly who it was—but he did take note of how the spiritual pressure belonged to someone that was not human. In fact, he could tell that it was a Shinigami.
Wincing softly as he shifted and his left shoulder moved against the mattress, he let out a shaky breath and could feel something damp and cool press against his injured area. His breathing quickened once more, however he closed his mouth and breathed through his nose as he willed himself to calm down. Swallowing, he let out another soft breath afterwards—his lips parting in the process as he allowed himself to relax. Ever so slowly, he began to open his eyes. Light hit him right away, however it wasn't as strong as earlier and he was able to squint as his eyes began to adjust. After a few moments, he realized the room was a bit blurry and gingerly reached out a hand as he began to feel for his glasses.
He must have muttered something, because he found his hand being grasped in another's and could feel his glasses being placed within his grasp. He murmured something, hoping that he had actually been able to get out a decent 'thank you' to whoever it was, in return, before reaching up with a shaky hand to place his glasses back onto his face. It had taken him a couple of tries, but after a few seconds he was able to adjust them into the right positioning and push them up the bridge of his nose. Closing his eyes as he did this, he sucked in a large breath before focussing. When he next opened his eyes and glanced up, he was met with somewhat relieved and otherwise happy expressions on those that stood around him.
"I-Ishida-kun!" A female shouted, her long flowing hair going past her shoulders and down her back.
"Uryu…" Another let out a relieved breath as her large, violet eyes slid close and she leaned against a taller, red headed male.
"Looks like he finally woke up." Said a smirking blonde, his fan waving in front of his face to cover his lips as his hat tipped forward.
And finally, he glanced up and watched as the one that was holding his hand looked down at him—the male's concerned, chocolate colored irises sweeping over his face as he spoke. "Are you alright, Ishida?"
Confused, the archer merely stared at the people around him, furrowing his brows as the reiatsu in the room stirred. The orange haired male he recognized as a classmate, as well as the female with the matching colored hair and the taller, silent man in the corner of the room. However, he didn't know why the three Shinigami were there, as well as he was confused over why he could feel a Shinigami's spiritual pressure wafting from the man beside him. Was he not human? Didn't he recall being in the same class as the boy?
"What's…" He cracked out, his voice somewhat strained as he realized how dry his throat was. Clearing it, he tried to swallow once more—only to find he was lacking saliva from within his mouth. He watched as the male that stood beside him moved quickly, and somewhat perplexed—he eyed the glass of water as the teen held it out to him. Reaching up, he grasped the cup and waited; however as the other let go, he almost dropped it and began to grit his teeth. Although, the glass did not fall—seeing as the other boy must have been expecting it and brought the cup to his lips for him, as he looked down at him.
He felt like a child, having to be fed—but he wasn't sure why he was so weak in the first place. So, allowing his lips to part as the beverage was placed to his lips—he sipped as the cup was tipped slowly and with care, against his mouth. He could feel the cold water glide down his throat, coating his parched lips and mouth as he sipped. He took longer gulps than he usually would have, and gently reached up to push the male's hand away afterwards, when he was finished.
"Thank you…" He managed to whisper as the taller male pulled his hand away. He watched as a relieved and somewhat content smile graced the other's features and slowly began to adjust himself as he tried to sit up.
"Woa, careful." The blonde with the fan spoke from across the room. "You almost lost your arm, you know. You really should be taking it easy."
My arm? Ishida questioned silently as he glanced down at his shoulder. And just as he suspected, his entire left arm from the shoulder to his elbow had been wrapped neatly in bandages and partially around his chest. He wasn't naked, only shirtless—however he did feel somewhat exposed in a place he was unfamiliar with. He wanted to sit up though, so when he tried to move himself—he was a little reluctant at first but allowed the male who seemed to be overly nice to him upon waking up, adjust him and help him to sit up.
Keeping quiet for a little bit, he glanced around the room at everyone around him and felt a bit uncomfortable at the stares directed his way. Deciding that it would be best to ask now, rather to wait any longer, he let out a soft breath and relaxed his shoulders as he felt the pillows behind his back begin to adjust to his weight. "Where am I?" He questioned finally, looking to the blonde who seemed to be the owner of the house. A Shinigami, no doubt—judging by his reiatsu. Which made him wonder why he was here in the first place, however when they said he nearly lost his arm, there was only one explanation for it, really.
"Where are you?" Eyebrows raised, the male tipped his head back and slid off his hat.
Frowning, Ishida gave a nod and watched out of the corner of his eyes as the female with the longer hair—her name was Orihime, was it not?—began to frown and hold her hands above her chest. Now he was really confused…
"You don't know where you are?" The red haired male, also a Shinigami spoke up as tattooed eyebrows rose.
Looking in the male's direction, the archer gave a deadpanned look as he rolled his eyes and reached up to adjust his glasses. "No, I felt like asking for the fun of it, Shinigami." Furrowing his brows once more, he glanced to the blonde once more as he leaned forward. "Why am I here, and what happened? I know that the majority of you are Shinigami—but that doesn't explain how you would have known about me. And…" Looking to Orihime, and then to Sado and eventually allowing his gaze to drift back to the orange haired male beside him—he frowned. "And why do your reiatsu suddenly feel so different than they did yesterday?"
The room went silent for a moment as everyone stared at the archer. Ishida began to shift once more in the bed he was sitting up upon and his hands lightly clenched into the fabric of the sheets which rested on his lap. Looking at them, one at a time—he took in their confused expressions which seemed to resemble his own. Did something happen while he was out? Did the Shinigami figure out that he was a Quincy and came to destroy the last of his race? Or perhaps those people, his classmates had really had this power all along and were somehow in on it? No… He could have ignored the females and the larger male's—Chad's—but he would have recognized the Shinigami beside him. The spiky haired male couldn't control his reiatsu, even if he wanted to which was becoming quite obvious to the Quincy as he felt the man's spiritual pressure fluctuate around him. So… If none of that, then what? Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked up as the male across from him began to speak once more—his hat being set down on his knee as his cane the archer hadn't realized he had been holding was placed on the floor.
"Do you recognize us, Uryu?" The man asked simply as he stared into the Quincy's eyes.
Ishida was about to answer as he parted his lips—only to be cut off by a low growl and the raising of reiatsu coming from next to his bed.
"What are you talking about? Why are you asking him such things? Of course he remembers us!" Looking down at the Quincy in the bed, concerned, brown irises locked onto Ishida's azure ones. "You recognize us… don't you?"
Ishida was bewildered as he heard the other speak. Raising his eyebrows, he only furrowed them in the slightest afterwards as he shook his head. "No… Well, I do recognize the majority of you. You all are in my class, are you not?" Tilting his head to the side, he frowned. "However I do not recall you ever being a Shinigami… Nor do I recall you two having powers of some sort." Glancing to the female across the room, he watched as she jumped slightly before covering her mouth and whispering.
"I see…" The blonde spoke once more, causing everyone to gaze in his direction. Waving a hand, as if to dismiss them, he leaned forward as he glanced at the raven haired teen and tilted his head to the side. "Tell us, what do you remember happening last?"
Frowning, Ishida didn't see what that had to do with anything and let out a breath. "I don't know… I don't remember anything after class the other day, when I had felt the presence of a Shinigami enter Karakura town…"
"Yes, the one over there." Looking towards the smaller female, he watched as her brows furrowed and she began to frown as well.
"But Rukia didn't come back till yesterday…" Ichigo mumbled softly as he glanced at the shop keep. He could feel the archer's eyes on him but ignored it as he continued. "Ishida's been out for a week now."
Blinking, Ishida's eyebrows rose as he heard the other speak and sputtered slightly as he leaned forward. "W-What do you mean I've been out for a week?" He pressed on, furrowing his brows. "And now that I think about it, why do you all suddenly look older. If I was out for a week, you wouldn't have changed that much."
"Older?" The tallest of the men spoke up as he stood up straight. His brown eyes lacing with worry as he looked over to the Quincy. "What do you mean, Uryu?"
Opening his mouth to answer, Ishida was cut off once more by the blonde speaking.
"I know! Ishida-San." He stood from his seat on the windowsill as he began to walk forward. Leaning over the teen, he looked at him closely as he spoke. "How old are you?"
He thought it was a silly question, but he raised an eyebrow and answered it nonetheless. "I am fifteen, why?" When he heard a soft gasp come from Orihime, he frowned and leaned to his side to get a better look—only to see the shocked expressions on the others' faces as they glanced right back towards him. Looking upwards and towards the other teen, he saw worry within the male's chocolate irises, rather than shock that the other's demonstrated.
"I see…" Slipping his fan into his pocket, the shopkeeper moved back to check a few things which were hooked up to the Quincy before standing up straight. "Well, I think we all know the problem then." His voice became serious as everyone looked in his direction. Gazing down at the Quincy, he spoke simply as he leaned against a small dresser and let out a soft breath. "Looks like our friend here has lost his memory."
Blinking, Ishida simply stared for a moment as the others began to talk in hushed voices amongst themselves. Lost his memory? How could that be? Did he fight a hollow or something of the sort and somehow an injury in his arm caused him to forget certain things? No… That wouldn't be right. And it wasn't as if he had hit his head or anything, he didn't feel any pain there. But then again, they did say he had been out for a week…
"How could he have lost his memory?"
The sound of the orange haired male's voice snapped Ishida from his thoughts.
"I thought you said you extracted the poison before it hit!" Growling, Ichigo stomped over to Urahara and grabbed a fistful of the male's robes. "How could he have forgotten two whole years and suddenly think he's fifteen again? He wouldn't even have met you yet!"
Two…Years? Eyes widening, Ishida quickly lifted the blanket from his lap and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He could hear the one female say his name and their gazes snap towards him—but he ignored it. Standing, he ripped some of the tubes from his arm—being careful about the one in his hand, seeing as he had dealt with them before when Ryuken treated him. Walking towards the other end of the room, he could feel the cold wooden flooring beneath his bare feet and had to suppress a shiver as he stepped in front of a mirror. Letting out a small breath, the Quincy closed his eyes and reached up to adjust his glasses once more. Waiting for a few seconds, he was pretty sure the others' were still staring at him and glanced over his shoulder for a moment as he opened his eyes to gaze at their concerned expressions. Frowning, he could feel the anxiety pulse through his veins, but he had to know the truth. If he had truly lost two years of his memory, he would have to look different—would he not?
Tilting his head and facing forwards, he sucked in a surprised breath as he looked to his reflection in the mirror. Of course he recognized this as himself, seeing as there weren't any major changes; but he looked much older if he truly thought about it. His hair that had once hung down either side of his face was now shorter, straighter and tucked behind one ear. His rectangular frames were replaced by smoothed, somewhat circular ones and his eyebrows much thinner and refined. He was… no… Is… Seventeen, now? On the verge of adulthood and didn't remember two years of his high school days? Well, to put it bluntly. It really sucked.
Turning around, he looked at the female and gave a small smile. He could tell she was worried, so he tried to reassure her as he reached up to play with his hair. "I'm alright… Inoue-San." He spoke, glad that he remembered the names of all those who were in his class. It really was going to be difficult, seeing as since they were here—they were most likely his closes friends. He would have to be informed, he supposed, or perhaps injected with something that could help get his memory back. Anything that would at least be temporary, he needed though, until then.
When she smiled slightly back at him, he made his way back to the bed as he stopped in front of it. Unsure as to what to do, exactly, he stood there a bit uncomfortable as he waited for someone to speak up.
"I guess there isn't much we can do… Well, someone is going to have to catch him up for when you go to school, but other than that, he's missed a lot in the other world-wise." The shop keep spoke as he took out his fan and waved it in front of his face.
This caused Ishida's brows to furrow, but he knew the male was right and he slowly began to fold his arms across his chest. "I suppose someone should start with telling me what happened then. Who knows? Perhaps that may trigger my memory." When the others' went silent and merely looked off in separate directions, Ishida's brows furrowed and he dropped his hands to his sides. "What?"
Looking over towards Orihime as she began to speak, his expression softened as he watched her twiddle her thumbs and shift nervously. What was there to be nervous about?
"We… Weren't exactly there, Ishida-Kun…" Looking up at the male, her large, brown orbs gazed into his blue eyes. "Kurosaki-Kun was the only one there at the time, s-so…"
"Kurosaki?" Blinking, Ishida looked to his right at the orange haired teen who had gone silent and been leaning against the dresser as they spoke. When he glanced upwards and spotted Ishida staring, Ishida watched as the male quickly looked away and reached up to rub the back of his neck.
Waiting a bit impatiently, Ishida placed his hands onto his hips and tilted his head—causing the hair on the right side of his face to slide over his shoulder as he did so. "Well? What happened, Kurosaki?" When the boy still said nothing, his brows creased further and he opened his mouth to speak. Although, somewhat irritably, he found himself being interrupted once more as the blonde male on the other side of the room spoke up.
"I think we should leave them alone for a bit, don't you?" As the eyes all glanced in the male's direction, he stood up straight and began to make his way across the room, and towards the door on the other side. Grasping the handle and pulling the door open, he looked over his shoulder with a smile as he beckoned everyone in his direction. "Come now, we don't want to get into the middle of this, now do we?" Smile brightening, he glanced at the Quincy as he waved his hand and stepped out of the door. "I'm Urahara Kisuke, by the way. No need to hate me because I am a Shinigami. You two just have fun talking now, and try not to destroy the shop. We'll be out here getting your stuff ready."
With that, Ishida watched as everyone—one by one began to exit the room. The orange haired female paused at the door, and his smile returned as he looked at her—and when she smiled back, he nodded and she left the room quietly, shutting the door behind her.
When the room became quiet, Ishida turned back to Ichigo with a perplexed look on his face. Pursing his lips into a thin line, he slowly began to fold his arms once more as he made his way over towards the bed and sat down upon the edge of it, facing the teen. He didn't say anything for the longest time, completely baffled as to why the teen wouldn't want to say what happened in front of everyone else. He could think of two reasons, actually—but he hoped it was neither of the two. Because, well, the first one was that he had been an idiot—so whatever had happened between him and the hollow was his fault entirely. The only other thing he could think of, was that this… Shinigami had done something and was holding himself accountable for Ishida's injury. Really, he did hate Shinigami—but he wasn't sure if this man was his friend or not, therefore wasn't sure if he should be mad at the male or not if that was the case.
"So…" He finally started, shifting so that he could slide back on the bed, on his butt. When Ichigo didn't even return his gaze when he looked up—Ishida's eyes narrowed slightly and he couldn't help but become somewhat irritated. He was the one who was attacked by a hollow, he was the one who had lost his memories—so it didn't matter what happened; he had every right to know and Ichigo had no right to keep quiet. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" This earned him a sideways glance from the other male, before Ichigo looked away once more. Ishida felt his eyebrow twitch.
"I take that as I need to shove an arrow up your ass in order to get an answer out of you?" When this didn't elicit anything from the other either, Ishida frowned as his brows creased. He was sure that would have done it…
Sighing, he slid his hand down his arm as he grasped his cross. Blinking, he looked down at his wrist before his eyes widened and he held up his arm. "I have a new cross as well…?" Murmuring more so to himself, rather than to the other—he merely stared, slightly amazed as his eyes lit up. However, this wasn't really the time to go all googly-eyed over a piece of weaponry when he needed answers from the other. Although, when he opened his mouth and turned to look at the other—he saw that his comment caused a small smile to form on Ichigo's lips and he was taken slightly aback.
"W-What is it, Kurosaki?"
Shaking his head, Ichigo slowly pushed off from the dresser he was currently leaning against to stand and glance down at the other male. "Nothing… I was just thinking that you look really happy when you looked at your cross just now. Almost as if you didn't lose your memory…" He muttered the last bit under his breath with a sigh as he began to make his way across the room—moving past the archer.
Frowning in the slightest, Ishida ignored the fact that his cheeks had heated up a bit due to the others' comment, and stood quickly—following after the boy. "Well, I did lose my memories and apparently you are the only one who knows what happened, Shinigami. So tell me what sort of mess did your thick skull get us into, to cause this?"
That made the substitute freeze, and because of that—Ishida had to stop himself or he would have bumped into the other male's back. Thoroughly confused, he really wished he could just yell at the man to spit it out already—but as he glanced down he noticed the clenching of the teen's fists and the trembling of his hands. "Kurosaki…?"
Blinking, Ishida hadn't expected an apology from the other. Not only because he didn't even know what had happened, nor what was going on—but also because he had just technically been rude to the male only a few minutes before, not even. He wanted to question it, to ask the other what he meant—but for some reason no words would form as he opened his mouth to speak. So instead, he simply stood there for a moment, arms limp at his sides as he glanced at the back of the others' spiky orange hair. If he was apologizing, then… Something did happen, or perhaps between them before the hollow had attacked. Or maybe it happened during the attack? Of course, he didn't know. For some reason, the apology seemed, not more sincere—simply… more deep. Almost as if he wasn't apologizing for Ishida getting hurt at all, but for something more important.
Letting out a long breath, the archer reached up and pressed his index finger to the middle of his glasses. Slipping his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as they threatened to slide down, he placed his hands onto his hips afterwards and made his way to walk around the taller teen. As he stepped in front of the orange haired male, he turned to face the other; taking note of how the boy refused to meet his eyes. "I'd say you don't need to apologize, but you really haven't told me a thing."
Chewing on the inside of his cheek as this didn't get a reaction out of the man in front of him, Ishida sucked in an even longer breath as he closed his eyes. "Listen, if you did anything, I'll tell you in advance; I won't freak out on you." Looking at the others' face, he could see the slight clench to Ichigo's jaw so he continued. "And I won't blame you either. I mean—I don't know you that much—well… I suppose I might, but that doesn't mean I am unreasonable. If you just tell me, depending on what really happened we can just let this slide and start working on getting my memories back. Perhaps afterwards, I can hit you upside the head if that will make you feel any better."
That, however, earned the slightest of chuckles to escape the other. Hearing the quiet sound caused Ishida's expression to soften a bit and he relaxed his shoulders as he shifted his weight onto one foot. "So? What shall it be, Kurosaki? Are you going to tell me?" Waiting, he watched as Ichigo's head slowly tilted upwards, and chocolate colored irises met his own, azure colored ones. Nothing was said for a couple of minutes, so he thought that he still wasn't going to get an answer and became slightly irritated. Letting out a breath, he parted his lips to speak—only to get cut off for what seemed to be the millionth time today.
"I…." Brows creasing into a scowl, Ichigo let out a breath as well as he looked away. "I'm sorry." He muttered quietly, looking down. "I can't tell you."
And that was it. Clenching his own hands, Ishida leaned forward as he gripped his hips and tilted his head so that his face was directly in front of Ichigo's. "Why the hell not? Stop stalling, Kurosaki and just spit it out already! Or are you really that dense and not comprehend the words coming out of my mouth? Tell me or I'll—"
"I'm not going to tell you, alright?!" Yelling, Ichigo snapped at the other as his fists tightened and he took a step back. "I… I… It's my fault! It's my fault that hollow came and slashed your arm! And its my fault you nearly died and were out of it for a week!" Panting softly as he spoke at a quickened pace, Ichigo began to head towards the door as he turned his back on the other. "Just… Just… Don't worry about it. We'll get your memories back and you will know then. But for now—just… Don't ask… Please."
Ishida simply stared. Blinking in shock, he couldn't believe how the other was reacting to his words—but he wasn't exactly sure if that was normal, either. Lifting a hand, he didn't know if he should be the one apologizing, but for some reason—he felt as though he should. Reaching out to stop the other, he opened his mouth but all that managed to escape him was the name, "Kurosaki—" Before Ichigo left quickly and shut the door behind him.
Arms slowly sliding down and relaxing at his sides, Ishida stared somewhat dumbly at the door in front of him. He wasn't exactly sure how to feel about what had just happened, considering he didn't know—well, he didn't really know anything. He wasn't about to list off what he didn't know, because what he did know seemed to be a much shorter list in his mind, even though he only had two years missing from his memory.
Allowing his breathing to steady, he made his way back towards the bed and sat down slowly on the edge. Resting his elbows on his knees, he placed his face into his palms as he ran his hands slowly through his hair and towards the back of his neck before sliding them around once more to rest his chin on his enclosed fists. There was nothing he could do at the moment, other than sit here and wait. But for what? Surely he lived in the same house as he had been—but did much change that he wouldn't even know his way around? Probably not, but there was still so many blanks it was almost infuriating not knowing what used to fill those empty areas.
Looking up and towards a small calendar which hung limply on the wall, he frowned and brought his legs up and onto the bed as he crossed them gently. Placing his hands on the sides of the bed—he lay back with his legs still crossed—an awkward position, but he found it somehow comfortable.
"Maybe I shouldn't have reacted that way… Even though I have every right to know." He spoke softly to himself, his voice nothing more than a mere whisper. "Although, his reiatsu does feel familiar—even when the others' don't…" Turning his head on the mattress, he glanced towards the door where he felt the hum of reiatsu where the others' most likely still occupied the other room. Everything was so frustrating though, and he wasn't sure whether or not he should just leave without consent and get away from all this. But there wasn't anywhere else to go, really—and he sort of needed them to 'fill him in' on what he 'missed' before he could return to classes and civilization.
Turning onto his side, Ishida lightly curled up as he placed his hands in front of him and stared at the door. He could still feel the reiatsu of the orange haired male—although it was retreating quickly, so he guessed the man must have gone into spirit form so that he wouldn't have to answer anyone else's questions.
Was it really that big of deal, what had happened? Or perhaps it wasn't and he was just teasing the Quincy. Ishida wouldn't really know the difference, after all—seeing as there was a gap where all memories that held the other in them used to be.
Sighing softly, Ishida closed his eyes as he relaxed his body and allowed himself to begin to drift off. He had the strangest feeling that something was wrong, but he wasn't sure if that was just because of what was going on or not. Deciding that, he would just have to wait until later on, when he was getting a hold of his bearings to question this any further—he would rest now and make more sense of this when he left here and began to ask the other questions. After all, he didn't think he was friends with the Shinigami's out there, he couldn't be.
Feeling the drug that was injected into his arm earlier, start to take effect—Ishida let out a soft groan as the pain threatened to return to his shoulder. So, turning onto his other side—he began to drift off into unconsciousness once more as his lidded gaze stared at the door. Hopefully, when he next woke up—things would start to make more sense.
To be continued.