Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter and all subsequent characters belong to Laurell K. Hamilton, as do the characters and plot from Caress of Twilight et al. Blood Dance, however, belongs to me—frightening, isn’t it?
Warnings: Language, shounen ai/yaoi (limey), some flashback stuff, lots of potentially bastardised character play.
Author’s Note: Yeah, I know these things are supposed to go at the end and stuff, but I wanted to put it up front to explain things a little. I’ve had a lot of requests for some Quatre/Trowa moments, but they’re really hard to work in when Blood Dance is told from Duo’s point of view. However, I felt that there were some parts of Blood Dance that could use a little clarification, and Quatre is the perfect person to do that. Also, this gives me a chance to play with Quatre and Trowa, who are two of my favourite characters to explore after having read the manga—and seeing as how they’re very under appreciated in the GW fandom, this is my chance to represent them well.
Twilight Tarantella starts out before Blood Dance actually begins, then shifts to where Part 6 ends. It may be a little confusing at first, but you’re all bright people—I think you’ll catch on quick. Reading Blood Dance isn’t necessary, but it would probably clear quite a few things up.
[Gracelessness]
Duo is so clueless some days that it frightens me.
Oh, I know I’m not being fair in saying that. He’s really quite intelligent, though he tries hard to make us think otherwise. ‘Look at me, I’m a clown,’ he tries to say, laughing and smiling and making an ass out of himself. It makes me want to shake him by the shoulders and say ‘Duo, Trowa’s the one employed by the circus, not you.’
Not that he’s laughing or smiling right now. The last time I looked in on him, he was thoroughly sedated in bed. I was hoping the sleeping draught would keep him unconscious for at least another six hours; that would give Wufei plenty of time to arrive.
Really, though, who would have thought that idiot was dumb enough to try and commit suicide without knowing all the facts? Did he really think the rest of us so callous that if Heero really were dead we wouldn’t mourn him? I swear, that American is…is… Well, I can’t think of a word to describe him at the moment, but if I ever do, he’ll be the biggest one I know.
I looked up from contemplating my hands as I heard the soft padding of bare feet across the floor. Trowa gave me a small smile, hands in his pockets as he paused in the doorway. “What?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as he continued to just stand there and look at me.
“Just admiring the…view,” he said loftily, looking up towards the ceiling as he said the last word.
I looked up, noting the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling layers of paint. Really, who painted a ceiling neon orange, I wondered. “Yes, it’s quite…interesting.” Interesting truly wasn’t the word for it—horrendous, outrageous, and vomitous fit much better—but such vague commentary was more likely to get a humorous reply from Trowa than specific adjectives would. And, despite the fact that I’d had a wonderful bout of anger and frustration going only a few moments ago, I was willing to let Trowa amuse and distract me.
“Well, I thought so—a bit like that finger painting with hamburger condiments that Wufei and Heero did about a month ago after dinner.”
I laughed, shaking my head. Trowa really has an odd sense of humour, but his attempt at distracting me had worked. “All right, my wolf, I’ll quit brooding.”
“Good.” He moved the rest of the way towards my chair, leaning over the edge to nuzzle against my cheek. I sighed, closing my eyes; I would stay like this forever if I could, his skin against mine, warm breath ghosting in my ear, the scent of pine and gunpowder overwhelming in my nose, his lean, silken-steel, incredibly flexible body exuding warm and barely contained frenetic energy… Verily, I hadn’t gone looking for a lifemate when I’d embarked to fight in this chaotic mess of a war, but I wasn’t going to complain that I had found one—and a very sexy one, at that.
Trowa chuckled, fingers trailing through my hair, down my neck, sliding over my bared arms. “And what are you thinking about now, my faerie princeling?”
“Hmmm, I’m…” I couldn’t help but snicker a bit evilly as my thoughts turned to a slightly kinkier, slightly more lust-over-love bend. “Well, currently I’m imagining you naked on our bed, tied spread-eagled as I lick my way over every inch of your lovely, sweat-dewed skin.”
Growling, Trowa leaned in and nipped at my neck. I giggled, wrapping my arms around him and hauling him into the chair with me. “I like the way you think,” he said, voice dark and husky.
I shivered, tipping my head so that I could view his eyes, pools of midnight pine barely visible through half-mast lashes. “So do I,” I murmured, cupping one hand behind his head as closed the distance between us.
Mouth on mouth contact is a little-practised art form. It’s surprising—and sad—how under appreciated kissing is. Really, though, you can get some of the most wonderful reactions from a body, simply by well-applied use of lips, teeth, or tongue.
Trowa was definitely well practised with his lips. All it takes is a few well-placed nibbles on my lower lip, a teasing trace of tongue, and I’d be completely willing to live on the oxygen supplied his mouth for the rest of my life.
I was all warm and tingly by the time we parted, fingers tracing over the back of Trowa’s neck. I could feel my wolf’s contentment as well, a lovely feeling of warmth and love that was settled at the back of my head. Until I’d met Trowa and the others, I’d cursed the gifts my mother had bestowed upon me. Oh, I’d trained them—I would have been a complete fool not to—but I cursed them with every fibre of my being. Now, though… Now that I have Trowa to share my head and heart and body with, I see them as the “gifts” that they are.
“Shall we go to bed?”
Mmmm, bed sounded delightful. “Sure. Let me go and check on Duo first and leave a note for Wufei, since he’ll probably roar in sometime early this morning.”
“You’re right.” Trowa got up from my lap, stretching his arms over his head. I took a moment to drool in my head as he revealed a lovely line of amber flesh for my viewing pleasure. Really, if Duo wasn’t such a pressing and important matter, I would be tempted to jump Trowa right then and there.
Noticing the direction my thoughts had no doubt taken—and where my line of vision was firmly grounded—Trowa laughed and wrapped a hand around my wrist, hauling me to my feet. “Go and take care of Duo, love; I’ll be waiting for you.”
And with that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and padded from the room.
Sighing, I followed in his footsteps, heading down the hallway towards the bedroom next to ours. Pushing the door open, I couldn’t help the clenching I felt in my heart when I viewed the bed’s lone occupant.
Duo had rolled over sometime during the last hour, and his arms with their vermilion stained bandages were crisscrossed next to his face. It was frightening how closely his skin pallor matched the original shade of the bandages.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry again or beat my unconscious friend to consciousness. I was still so, so angry with him for pulling this stunt on me—on us. When I’d called Wufei an hour ago, he’d told me that he was dropping everything to come over. I didn’t need him to be in the same room to sense the fear and anger he was feeling at that moment.
Healing Duo as much as I had had taken quite a bit of energy from me. He was going to have to rely on conventional healing methods for a day or two, since it would be at least that long before I’d be up to anything else. Reaching his bedside, I ran my fingers over his brow, grimacing at the chilly, clammy feel that met my touch. I reached for the cloth I’d placed on the table next to the bed, wiping his forehead and face. I ran my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face; despite the sleeping draught I’d given him, his features were still lined with pain.
“Oh, Duo…” Even in his unconscious state I could sense the devastated waves of loss he was feeling, and like pitch they coated and clung to my sense of empathy. He felt so completely and utterly betrayed by Heero’s “death,” so completely and utterly alone…
“When you wake up, you stupid American, I’m going to kiss you.” My voice was shaking along with my hand as I continued to smooth his hair away. “And then I’m going to kick your ass in a way that will make Heero and Wufei’s tempers seem like the ice age. And then…” My voice dropped to a mere whisper as I ghosted my fingers along his blue-tinged lips, using every ounce of my empathy to try and convey to him a will to live. “And then I’m going to hug you and tell you how much you are loved and wanted, so that you’ll never do anything like this ever again.”
I smiled bitterly as a tear splashed onto my hand; traitorous things had gotten away from me once again. “Sleep, Duo, and heal. We all want you to return to us.”
Standing up straight, I scrubbed at my eyes. I turned to the table and grabbed the pen and paper I’d placed there earlier, scribbling a hasty note to Wufei to wake me should anything change in Duo’s condition. On my way out, I tacked it to the door, closing it so that only a crack of light would be visible in the room.
I shuffled to my room, opening and closing the door with a deep sigh—I seem to be doing a lot of sighing tonight, though it’s not that unexpected. Trowa’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, just looking at me.
My walls crumbled, my emotions pouring forth before I could stop them, and I threw myself at my lover, sobbing. I feel so young when this happens, like a child whose been frightened by a night terror they can’t explain.
Trowa doesn’t ask—he doesn’t have to ask, though. He simply holds me, murmuring endearments and running his hands across my back in soothing motions as I cry and cry and cry.
I cried myself to sleep, that night.
Wufei was trying so hard to help Duo heal, but the stupid American just wasn’t responding. No wonder Heero called him “baka” so often—and, no, right now I don’t care if it was a term of endearment. Duo was refusing each and every offer we have made to help him. He’d lost quite a bit of weight, resembling something like a corpse in priest’s clothing at the moment. I was so frustrated I felt like screaming, but I knew that wouldn’t really accomplish anything. Well, not anything positive, at least.
I was leaning in against the mouth of the hallway, watching my two current targets sit together on the couch. It seemed innocuous enough, if one didn’t know the two people in question; Wufei had one arm around Duo’s shoulders while the braided American was crying softly into his chest. I couldn’t hear what was being said, not at this distance, but I could get the gist of it simply using my empathy. Duo was still completely distraught and Wufei was rapidly becoming frustrated.
Some days, I think that we should have told Duo the truth. Of us all, he’s the only one who doesn’t know the reality of what we are, of what he is. We’d all hoped, though, that our other lives wouldn’t find us until after the war. I know that I had hoped not to deal with my other relatives until after the war, but even the best laid of plans go astray when that bitch known as Reality decides to make her presence known.
Whoever it was that said the Faerie are hard to find obviously wasn’t trying to avoid them.
The Unseelie Court is a tricky body of government. All I can say is that they’re saner than the Seelie Court, but that’s not exactly saying a lot. And when your aunt is the Queen of Flesh and Blood of the Darkling Throng, things can get a bit…crazy.
The Queen’s two children, Morag and Morgead, were very different in looks and temperament. Morag, as the eldest, had much of her mother’s beauty, but it was laced with the colouring of her father, Frost. She was also possessed of his cold pragmatism, a fact that made her well liked by the court followers.
Morgead was an entirely other story. His hair a red that was so dark it was almost black, his eyes and skin as dark as Doyle’s, there were many who were put off by his abrasive manners and his spitfire temperament. I didn’t really blame him for being the way he was (being slender and effeminate when one was a warrior was a decidedly disturbing fact), but it made him a pain in the ass to deal with. And, for some reason, the Queen decided she was going to have Morgead be my contact.
Yay for me.
The mirror chimed as I was on my way back from the bathroom, a decidedly horrendous clanging—like a cross between a Buddhist temple bell and a fork across a plate—that told me almost immediately that my caller wasn’t Morag or the Queen. Sighing, I signalled for Trowa to keep Duo away and disappeared into the bedroom.
The chiming occurred again, but I refused to run. I grabbed the room’s lone chair and drug it to the dresser, settling myself down before placing my fingertips on the mirror’s surface. “Who summons the mirror?”
“Greetings to Quatre Raberba Winner, Prince of Darkness, Light, and the Astral Realm. Greetings, Prince of the Darkling Throng, from Morgead, Prince of Blood and Darkness, Prince of the Darkling Throng.”
I rolled my eyes, tracing my fingers over the mirror. I watched it ripple like disturbed water, settling to reveal a pissy-looking Morgead, lips twisted into a scowl that even Heero would have been hard pressed to beat. “Could you possibly sound any happier, Morgead?”
“Oh, shove it,” Morgead snarled, eyes narrowing. “I’m not exactly pleased about being your liaison, cousin.”
“I’m not exactly pleased about you being my liaison either…cousin.” I smiled, enjoying the look of anger that crossed his face. “So, why are you calling?”
“The dhampile…you wanted to know where he was. Doyle and Frost found him about half an hour ago, just south of the base. He’s mostly healed up, but Frost estimates it will be another day or two before he’s completely healed—and the gods alone know when he’ll wake from the coma.”
Chewing my lip, I thought through our timetable. Thanks to the “negotiations” that White Fang and the Romefeller Foundation were currently engaged in, all Gundam activities had been halted for the time being. If Wufei could keep Duo occupied, than Trowa and I would have plenty of time to fly to North America and retrieve Heero’s body.
“Please ask Doyle to place a guard at the cave,” I said, drumming my fingers on the dresser top. “Trowa and I should be there tomorrow to pick up our friend.”
Morgead turned his head, gesturing with a black-leather clad hand to someone that I couldn’t see. When he turned back, he began to yank on the thick red braid that trailed over his shoulder. “You’re asking a lot from us. We’re not as welcome in the mortal world as we once were.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He sighed, muttering something that sounded like an expletive. “It’ll be taken care of. We’ll meet you tomorrow at twilight at the entrance to the Underhill with your friend. Tell your wolf I said hello.”
And then Morgead was gone, leaving me to sigh at my own reflection. So, Heero had finally been found. Well, that was one less worry I had to deal with.
The door creaked open, Trowa peering around. “Good news?”
I nodded. “They found him. We can pick him up tomorrow at dusk.”
Trowa smiled faintly. “Twilight rendezvous with the Twilight Court.”
I smiled in return. “As if we’d do it any other way.”
He came fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “Will you tell them?”
“Wufei, yes. He’d figure that something was up anyway, demon-tied as he is. Duo…” I sighed, rubbing at my eyes. “I think he’s better off not knowing for now. Wufei’s been trying so hard to get him to respond, but it hasn’t been going well at all.”
“I noticed,” Trowa remarked. He placed a hand on my head, fingers drifting through my hair. “I also noticed…” He sighed, fingers pausing at the nape of my neck. “I also noticed the thread between them, Quatre.”
I winced at his cold tone, tensing. “It wasn’t supposed to—”
“Wasn’t supposed to what, Quatre? I know that they couldn’t have done it alone, and there’s no way that Duo could have consented considering the fact that he still doesn’t know the truth. You had to have helped them with it.”
I stood up and pulled away from him, walking towards the bed. “They did it for him, Trowa. He didn’t know—couldn’t know, at the time—what we all were, what might be looking for us. How was he supposed to protect himself if the Shadowkind came looking for him? They had to have some way of knowing if he was in trouble.”
“And so you helped them. Blood and flesh tied, mind and soul bound.”
“It’s not…” I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. I knew what I’d done was highly unethical, especially in the eyes of someone like Trowa, who’d been abused so often with similar bonds, though of lower strength. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s different. Yes, I performed the ceremony. I was the one who got Duo’s blood and hair for the binding. But you know as well as I do that neither Heero or Wufei would ever abuse that bond. They—”
“—love him. Yes, I know that. But is it fair to Duo that both of them have equal claim and equal desire for him? He doesn’t even realise that Wufei cares for him as anything other than a friend.”
I spun on my heel to face him, a sliver of anger driving through my guilt. “I know that!” I hissed. “But what’s done is done, and even I cannot undo such a spell. And I carry enough guilt over what I’ve done without you adding to its weight, wolf.”
We glared at each other, and I could see the golden glow of the wolf swimming behind the dark green of his eyes. I refused to give to him, though, no matter how much I hated it when we fought. It had been for Duo’s safety that I had helped Heero and Wufei bind themselves to him. My American-descended friend often had little care for himself and wound up in rather sticky situations.
Trowa finally looked away with a growl. “Stubborn.”
I lifted my chin. “Only because I have to be. Duo needed to be protected, and it was the only thorough safeguard. Even my magics can’t follow him everywhere.”
When he looked back at me, my empathy was overwhelmed, causing my knees to give way and send me tumbling to the floor. I gasped, fingers scrabbling over the worn flooring, face pressed into the wood grain until I could feel each individual peak and valley.
“I followed you when others would not,” he said softly. “I loved you when others pushed you away. I excepted your bond when others offered you only loneliness.”
The tears leaked down my cheeks unbidden, and no force of will could stop them. “I…I know.”
“I became yours, Quatre, of my own free will. What you did to Duo was wrong.”
Gods and goddesses, I hated how our bond increased the sensitivity of my empathy! He was manipulating me and he knew it. “I know.”
“And you still say that you won’t undo it?”
I gasped again, pushing myself into a somewhat upright position so that I could glare at him. My arms trembled with the effort, but I managed to give him a feral grin. “Of course, you ass. Won’t—and can’t. I meant what I said.”
He sighed, moving to sit on the bed. “Well, at least you’re consistent.”
The press of emotions cut off as thoroughly and completely as if a door had been closed, and I slumped back down to the floor with a sigh. “I hate it when you do that.”
“As I hate it when you’re a sneaky, underhanded little faerie princeling—even when your heart was in the right place.”
I began to laugh, ignoring the musty smell of the flooring. “Gods and goddesses! I swear, even when I’m doing the only thing in my power I can think of, I’m fucking up somewhere.”
“Quatre, language.”
I ignored his soft reprimand, shakily drawing myself to my feet. I clenched my jaw as I looked at him, looked at the young man I had chosen to bind my immortal life to, the one that I loved so desperately and yet at times hated with a passion that frightened me, for he was the only one who had ever made me feel such a gamut of emotions. “If you care for Duo in the least, then cease this guilt trip you wish to place upon me. We have more important things to do now than play such petty games.”
“Petty games, my princeling?”
“Yes, petty games, my wolf. Tonight you have reminded me of all the reasons that I love and hate you—and of all the reasons that I need you as desperately as I need air. Don’t make me remind you of the same.”
Power games. Dominance. Every species has its little eccentricities, but the underlying basis of the game is the same: Who will be alpha. Though Trowa had the power to be an alpha in his own right, my magics dimmed his power to that of a mere lamp-flicker—a fact which he knew quite well. I was the alpha in our relationship; I was the one who fought, who protected, who maintained. I was the one with the power, and just as any challenged wolf would do, I kept my posture erect, my stance ready for a fight, and I bared my teeth—physically and magically—in anticipation.
“Well, my wolf? What shall it be? Shall we fight again, here an now, or shall we acknowledge where we stand and move forward?”
He shifted from foot to foot, green melding with amber as his indecision became apparent. I balled my hands into fists and strode forward, reaching up to lace my hand in his hair and none too gently pull his face down to mine. “What shall it be, Trowa? I know that you’re disappointed in me, that you don’t trust me—and believe me, the second hurts much worst than the first—but we—don’t—have—time.”
My breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, fingers trembling as I brought up my other hand to capture Trowa’s face; beloved face, with its dark soulful eyes that speak volumes even when his honeyed voice is silent.
I kissed him—hard, hungry, angry. I wanted his submission, if not in words, then in actions.
I coaxed him—nipping teeth, questing lips, lapping tongue. Yield, I thought, drawing my hands down his neck, feeling him tremble with a fine shiver.
I forced him—dexterous hands, searching fingers, eager libido. Clothes fell, words forgotten as I backed him towards the bed, body expressing my emotions as clearly as empathy.
I loved him—sweat-dewed, sliding skin, forceful take and give. Neither of us were quiet, voices shouting, growling in passion, in anger.
I claimed him—mind, body, soul. He was mine even as I was his, and the reminder of that sent me over the edge.
I collapsed atop Trowa, my limbs trembling, breath gusting over his neck. Our fingers were twined, and shakily I brought them to my mouth, kissing each fingertip before drawing them to my chest. I sat up slightly, gazing at my lover, whose eyes were completely glazed with pine forested-darkness. Always it was this fast-paced dance between us, this push and pull, a constant winding-up until one or the other snapped and brought the motions to a stuttering, clattering halt. And, sadly, neither of us were very good at it, for our steps were awkward and jerky—a very disjointed and inelegant dance.
But in the dark…
In the dark, all things look the same.
I closed my eyes, willing the darkness to fill the room. When I opened them, the lights were off, and the only brightness came from the moiré of the night sky that filtered through our window. Always Trowa was beautiful, my reminder of the faerie ties to the earth with ever action he made, every breath he took. But in the starlight he was…indescribable.
“Je t’aime.”
His whispered words reached my ears, eliciting a sigh. “And I, you.”
And there were no more words that night, no more anger, no more questions. There was only me and my wolf, and the love that we shared.
Everything else could wait. Everything.
[Elegance]
We haven’t danced in months.
I don’t mean literally danced—well, not really. I refer to that odd disjointed set of movements that Trowa and I once regularly engaged in, verbally, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Since Heero’s return…things have been different. Maybe it was that last fight, that last struggle between us. I feel a peace now that I’ve never felt before.
“Thinking again? Quatre, you’re supposed to be sleeping.”
I smiled, looking up at his gentle chiding. It was true that I needed sleep, for the amount of power I’d used tonight was quite large. Combined with having to talk to Morag… But I couldn’t sleep; my mind was too busy to settle down, rampant with too many thoughts to be contained even by Morpheus’ power. “Physically I’m exhausted, but I can’t seem to sleep just yet.”
“I see.” He sat beside me on the bed, pillowing his chin on my shoulder to look at what I’d been reading. “A diary, my princeling? I didn’t know you kept such a thing.”
I shrugged, laughing as he shot me a disgusted look for disturbing his position. “It’s a recent thing. I started it a few months ago. I find it…interesting to see how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time.”
He smiled. “We have come a long way, haven’t we?”
Closing the journal, I set it on the nightstand, adjusting my body so that we lay side by side facing each other. “Trowa?”
“Hmmm?”
“I want to dance.”
His eyes widened, lips pursing. “You want to dance? Now?”
I nodded, grinning at his bewildered expression. “It’s not exactly the right time for it, seeing as how dawn has encroached upon us—twilight would be much better—but I really want to dance.”
He sat up, looking down at me. “I can’t believe that after everything that happened to today—after everything that’s happened in the last two days—that you want to dance.”
I rolled off the bed, bouncing on my feet with surprising energy. I didn’t have much in the way of magical reserves left, but it was a simple, minor illusion to make the room glow with the warm and sombre colours of twilight. It was a frivolous thing to do, but I was young and happy and in love, and at the moment I didn’t care. “Come on, you lazy wolf! Come and dance with me.”
He laughed at me, shaking his head even as he came to me. “And what shall we dance, my faerie princeling?”
“Oh, I don’t care!” I joined him in laughter as he swept me into his arms, moving us about the room with what seemed to be casual elegance. No longer disjointed, inarticulate, frenetic… We moved with simple ease, with loving grace, each of us to our own song that always seemed to match beats. Minutes flew by without notice, and I was content to simply exist.
“Once, if we had done this, we would have been like spiders trying to dance—too many limbs getting in the way, never knowing which one to put where.”
I nodded, laying my head on his chest as we slowed our pace, content to simply hold and be held. “But we fit now. We always fit, actually, but now it’s…it’s perfect.”
“We’re perfect.”
I mumbled agreement; sleep was making my eyelids heavy now. Trowa noticed this and nuzzled my cheek, drawing me towards the bed. “Poor Quatre. Too tired to even handle a proper allegro beat.”
“Nope,” I said, barely managing to raise my hand in time to cover a yawn. “I think all I’m up for now is maybe a largo.”
“How about bed?”
“Or that.”
Trowa had to help me into my pyjamas, and then he pulled me back onto the bed and into his arms. I didn’t even notice as my control over my twilight-illusion slipped and the neon lights from across the street drifted through the blinds and painted themselves onto the wall. Because I was tired, and I was happy, and I was in love, and everything else could wait.
“I hope Duo’s going to be better now.”
“I think he will be. And, Quatre…”
I could sense his hesitation, but I was just too tired to open my eyes. “Hmmm?” I asked, snuggling closer to his warmth.
“I think that things between Duo, Wufei, and Heero will work out. I’m not saying you were right, but…but I did overreact, back then. For that, I apologise. And I do…I do trust you.”
I smiled, kissing his neck. “Thank you. And I’m sorry that it took us so long to work out this dance properly.”
“We did fumble a lot, didn’t we?”
“Mm-hmmm. But now…”
“Now we’re elegance.”
I nodded. “And someday we’ll dance a proper twilight tarantella.”
“After this is all over, I’ll hold you to that. But, for now, you need to sleep; you’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow in getting us to the Underhill.”
“Good night, Trowa.”
“Je t’aime.”
“And I, you,” I whispered.
Before sleep completely claimed me, I made a promise, one that I intended to keep or die trying. Someday, when we’ve managed to sort through the tangle of Sidhe, vampire, and lycanthrope politics we’ve landed ourselves in inadvertently, I’ll take my wolf to the true world of Twilight for a dance that will last our lifetimes.
But for now, everything else…could wait.
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