Page 36

Josiah

Josiah trudged wearily back up the stairs to his bedroom. He was so tired that he couldn’t be bothered to put his clothes away neatly, so he left them in an untidy heap on the armchair instead. Then he threw himself down on the bed in his boxer shorts and a tee-shirt.

He glanced at his holopad to see that it was past midnight. Although he was exhausted, he didn’t want to sleep. The nightmares that had haunted him for the previous two nights were still there, waiting for him. He closed his eyes and tried to settle himself, his mind going easily to happier times.

They left Rosengarten at dawn. Standing in the clearing where they’d made love, Josiah took one last look around.

“Saying goodbye?” Peter asked.

“Nah. Saying good riddance.” He held out his hand. Peter took it, and they walked back to the jeep together.

“Is this really the way to Geneva?” he asked several hours later, waking from a nap and glancing out of the window.

“Yup – the slow way.” Peter winked. “The very slow way. We might need to stop off a few times and spend a couple of weeks out here, all by ourselves.”

Josiah looked at him suspiciously. “What exactly did you tell them about why I was missing?”

“I said you’d fallen ill, so we left you somewhere safe, but it might take some time to retrieve you.”

Josiah gave him a stern glare. “I have no idea how someone who enjoys breaking the rules so much ever reached the rank of captain.”

Peter laughed. “I’m the only commanding officer in the Peacekeeping Corps never to have lost a convoy. I keep asking for these missions, so they keep giving them to me. Most of the officers who run these convoys burn out – or die – but I keep going. That earns me a lot of leeway.”

“Hattie…” Josiah said slowly, and the black dog sitting behind him heard her name and swiped her tongue across the back of his neck. “When I first met you, and you asked me to hide her… that was all crap, wasn’t it? The army would have let you keep her. With your record, they couldn’t have cared less if you adopted a dog on your travels. Hell, they’d probably have let you adopt an entire pack if you wanted.”

“Probably. Yeah,” Peter agreed.

“So what was the point of that whole charade of making me hide her? Was it just to generate some rule-breaking drama for yourself? Have you ever thought that maybe you’re addicted to breaking the rules just for the hell of it?”

“Maybe… or maybe I was testing the mettle of my new sergeant, to see how well he could think on his feet.” Peter smiled at him sweetly. “I might also have been a little bowled over by how strapping and attractive that new sergeant was,” he added.

“Bullshit,” Josiah snorted. Peter laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.

They quickly left behind the areas where the scavs had a foothold, and spent their days meandering through a series of pretty German towns and villages. They took lodgings at night, or slept out in fields and forests, where they made love, over and over again .

It felt like a honeymoon, but as they inched closer to Geneva, Josiah was aware that it was coming to an end.

“You’re quiet today,” Peter said on their last day, as Josiah drove them towards base camp. “What’s going on, Joe?”

He pulled the jeep over to the side of the road and turned to face him. “Am I just another rule for you to break, Peter?” he asked. “I have to know now, before we go back.”

Peter looked bemused. “Joe, don’t be?—”

“No, see, I’ve never fallen for anyone this way before. So, if this – us – is just another way for you to stick it to the army, then tell me now, so I kn–”

Peter shut him up by taking his face between his hands and kissing him passionately.

When he was released, Josiah sat there, blinking.

“Did that clear it up for you?” Peter asked.

Josiah cleared his throat. “Yeah. That definitely helped. Thanks. So, when we get back to base…”

“We’ll be assigned another convoy, and we’ll be out on our own for months again, just like we were this time. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for us to spend our days and nights together without the top brass ever finding out.”

“I don’t like the idea of creeping around, Peter – and what about the unit?”

“What about them?”

“Are we keeping it a secret from them, too? I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Then we’ll tell them.” Peter shrugged.

“And expect them to lie for us? I’m not comfortable with that, either.”

Peter sighed. “Look, Joe – I run an underground railroad that smuggles escaped indentured servants out of the UK. Sleeping with you is small beer by comparison. Besides, the army won’t care – it’ll be like Hattie all over again. I’ve won enough leeway that if we get found out, all I’ll get is a slap on the wrist, and you won’t get into trouble at all. I’m happy to take that risk. ”

“Right. I see. Okay then,” Josiah said thoughtfully. Then he turned on the engine and started driving.

They went their separate ways when they got to the camp. Peter proceeded to report in, while Josiah did some laundry. He felt troubled. Peter’s ease with breaking the rules bothered him, and he hated the idea of either lying to the unit or asking them to keep their secret.

He mulled it over as he ironed sharp creases in his jeans and pressed the purple shirt he intended to wear for his date with Peter later.

When he was done, he took a trip to the adjutant general’s office to make some enquiries. Afterwards, he took a shower, got dressed in his smartly pressed outfit, and went looking for Peter’s quarters.

“Hey.” Peter opened the door, dripping wet, clad only in the towel that was wrapped around his waist. He was freshly shaved, and he smelled of soap – although no amount of washing ever completely removed the grease engrained in his fingers.

“Hmm, you look good.” He gave a little whistle. “All dressed up. I’ll never measure up beside you.” Grabbing a rumpled tee-shirt from the bed, he pulled it on.

Hattie came running over to greet him. Josiah petted her, glad of the distraction, until she returned to her spot, curled up on a blanket at the foot of Peter’s bed.

Then, squaring his shoulders, he stood stiffly in the centre of the room, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I went to get our orders. They’ve sent the convoy back to Reims with Big Jen in temporary command,” Peter said as he got dressed. “They left a few days ago, so we’ll need to set off at dawn tomorrow to catch up…” He paused, frowning. “Why are you standing to attention, Joe? You’re not on the parade ground.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to request a transfer,” Josiah said stiffly. Peter’s face dropped. “I’ve been to the AGC’s office to make enquiries about joining the Military Police.”

“And what did the AGC say?”

“That they can arrange an immediate transfer – with my commanding officer’s permission.” Josiah raised a questioning eyebrow .

Peter sighed. “Come now, Joe – you know I won’t stand in your way, if this is what you really want.”

“It is.”

“Immediate transfer, huh?”

“Probably the last time I’ll be able to cash in my ‘hero of Rosengarten’ chips.” He shrugged. “I’ve always liked the idea of being a cop. I enjoy finding things out, asking questions, investigating.”

“Yeah. You’ll be good at it, too. I’ll be sorry to see you go, though, Joe, and not just because of us. You’re the best sergeant I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.” He shot him a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t enjoy sneaking around, creeping into your bed at night. I wouldn’t like to hide something like this from the unit – that would be wrong.”

“Yes, of course.” Peter sighed. “It would be quite wrong for you. I should have realised that. I’m a dick.”

“Nah. You’re just used to getting your own way all the time.” Josiah grinned. “But, see, you’ve been calling all the shots in this relationship, and that’s not going to work long-term. So, I thought of a different way.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. Then he stood there, uncertain, suddenly feeling shy.

Peter stared at him. “Are you breaking up with me, Joe?”

“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “Kind of the opposite. Um… I think this is traditional… I’m, uh… not sure how it’s done. To be honest, I’ve never really thought about it, but this feels right.”

He went down on one knee and opened the folded handkerchief to reveal the plain gold ring inside. “It’s nothing fancy. In fact, it’s probably about the cheapest gold ring there is – it’s?—”

“Your father’s wedding ring. I recognise it.” Peter was standing very still, gazing down at him.

“Yeah – he didn’t have much – this was probably the only thing of value he owned. When he died, he gave it to me. He said he wanted me to give it to someone I loved one day, and… well, that’s what I’m doing. Look, I’m not one of those guys who likes to play around. I’m nothing special, but I promise I’ll be loyal, and you’ll have my love forever.”

“Forever?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s a long time. ”

“Don’t dick around with me,” Josiah growled.

“I’m not. I know how special this ring is to you, Joe. Are you sure you can bear to give it away?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “It is special to me, which is how you know I’m serious, because I wouldn’t give it to just anyone. So, will you marry me, Peter Hunt? Doesn’t have to be now, or anytime soon, but will you, one day?”

He held his breath as Peter gazed down on the ring. Little rivulets of water ran down Peter’s forehead from his wet hair and dripped onto him. The moment seemed to drag on forever.

“Maybe it’s too soon?” Josiah said uncertainly, to fill the silence. “Sorry, I’ve been an idiot. I just thought?—”

“Shut up.” Peter took the ring from the handkerchief and slid it onto his finger. “Yes, of course I’ll bloody well marry you, Joe, and yes, you are an idiot. Now get up – I want to kiss my fiancé.”

The memory worked its usual magic, and Josiah drifted off. He slept for a couple of hours, until the old, familiar dream returned.

Once again, he was walking towards the red car, carrying five cups of warm tea, humming cheerfully as he crossed the street.

All of a sudden, the sound of a piercing scream ripped through the air. Then he saw the bright splash of red blood spattering the windscreen of Peter’s car.

His arms jerked upwards, throwing the tray into the air, and the cups went flying in a slow, graceful arc. He didn’t see where they fell, because he was running as fast as he could towards the car.

Ripping open the door, he found Peter staring at him with an expression of surprise on his face and blood gushing from a deep wound in his neck. Josiah covered it with his hands, trying to stem the tide, but it kept on coming, pumping out in a crimson flood, stealing Peter’s life away.

He woke up covered in sweat, his heart pounding, his hands still feeling sticky with blood. He wiped them, pointlessly, on the bed sheets, knowing that was ridiculous .

He tried to force the memory away, shoving it back into the box he had crammed it into seven years ago. How had it escaped? Why was it tormenting him like this now? It seemed to be deliberately taunting him: You couldn’t keep him safe. Your love wasn’t enough. You couldn’t protect him. You failed him.

He ran for the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. His head pounding, he opened the bathroom cabinet and found some painkillers, swallowing them whole. But when he closed the cabinet door, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and was shocked.

He didn’t look human. There were dark shadows sunk deep under his eyes, and his skin had an icy pallor. He was so pale that the purple bruise on his jaw stood out in stark contrast. His hair looked like a mess of tousled straw, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot: he looked deranged.

“Two nights without sleep will do that,” Peter’s voice murmured in his ear. “You’re running on empty, Joe. Falling apart.”

“Shut up.” He gripped the bathroom sink tightly. Was that even Peter’s voice? It sounded taunting, mean, and Peter had been neither of those things.

He didn’t want to go back to bed in case the nightmare returned. He couldn’t face it again. He glanced at his watch to find it was nearly 3a.m. He longed to go to the gym, find a sparring partner, and lose himself in a fight, but did he really want to show up at work in a few hours with more unexplained bruises, especially with the nation’s press camped outside?

He had to have a distraction. He’d go mad without it. There was only one other thing he could think of – a poor substitute, but it’d have to do. He strode along the hall to the box room and wrenched open the door.

The room was small and contained only one thing: a heavy punch bag he’d hung from the ceiling many years ago. It wasn’t the same as going to the gym, or the satisfying sensation of punching real flesh, but it was all he had.

He didn’t bother to turn on the light, tape up his fists, or put on the gloves hanging from the back of the door. He wanted it to hurt .

Pounding away at the bag, he tried to lose himself in the repetitive sensation. When he was in the zone, he could forget about everything else. He hit harder, faster, chasing that elusive oblivion, but it didn’t come.

Details of the past few days played out in his head: Dacre’s corpse lying in that room full of ghostly holopics; the press hounding him; the mystery of who had sent the gun to Inquisitus; the red car standing reproachfully in the garage, only half polished… and Alexander Lytton sitting on the swing in the garden, looking so lost.

“You should move on. Let me go and move on,” Peter’s voice said.

“I don’t want to let you go.” He redoubled his efforts, hitting the punch bag with all his might.

“It’s been seven years, Joe. That’s a hell of a long time, even for you. It’s driving you crazy.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look it.” Peter gave a ghostly chuckle. “You’re attracted to Alexander, but it’s driving you nuts because you think it’s a betrayal. It’s not, you know. You can’t betray me because I’m dead. You should know that – you were there.”

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he screamed, punching harder, sweat pouring down his face.

His heart was beating fast, his knuckles were red, covered in his own blood, but all he could see was Peter’s blood, pumping out over his hands as he tried uselessly to stem the tide.

Peter left at first light the next day, with Hattie beside him. Josiah took her head in his hands and gazed into her loving brown eyes.

“Be a good dog,” he ordered. “And take care of him, because I won’t be there to do it.”

She snuffled her agreement, and he kissed her soft black face and petted her silky ears. Then he walked around to Peter’s side of the jeep, leaned in, and kissed him. Finally, he stepped back, stood to attention, and saluted.

Peter rolled his eyes, then gave him a half-salute, half-wave in reply, the dawn sun glinting on the gold ring on his finger. Josiah’s heart skipped a beat. His ring, on Peter’s finger. He waved back until the jeep became a tiny dot on the horizon and then disappeared from sight.

Returning to his quarters, he threw himself on the bed. He was going to take a shower, but he couldn’t bear to wash Peter’s scent off his body. For the past two weeks he’d spent nearly every second of every day with him and Hattie. They’d only been gone a few minutes, but already he missed the warm weight of his fiancé’s body, and the familiar snuffling sound of Hattie’s snoring.

He sat up suddenly. What the hell was he doing? He’d finally found love, and a family, and he’d sent them away – and all because of his stupid, unbending principles. He was an idiot.

He got up, rammed all his belongings into his knapsack, and ran outside to commandeer a motorbike.

Pausing only to pull on leathers and a helmet, he took off at breakneck speed, going so fast that he zoomed past Peter’s jeep, parked on the side of the road, an hour later. He saw it in his mirror and braked, tyres screeching, then swung the bike around and rode back.

Peter had stopped for breakfast and was sitting with the door open and his legs up on the dashboard, Hattie lolling beside him.

Pulling up beside them, Josiah jumped off the motorbike and strode over to the jeep, unbuckling his helmet as he walked. Hattie came running towards him, making high-pitched whines of excited recognition as if she hadn’t seen him for weeks rather than just a couple of hours.

Peter was on his feet, reaching for his gun, when he noticed Hattie’s reaction. Josiah took off his helmet, and Peter sank back against the vehicle, clutching his chest.

“Christ, Joe – you almost gave me a heart attack!” Peter put down his gun. “What are you doing here? Did I forget something?”

“No, I did.” Josiah placed his helmet on the bonnet of the jeep. “I forgot that I’m sending you back to a fucking war zone, with scavs all around. There is no way… no way” – he paused, his breath heaving in his chest – “you are going back into all that danger without me by your side. ”

“What about joining the MPs?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It can wait until you’re ready to give up running convoys and let me make an honest man of you.”

“Fine, but I’ll never give up the Kathleen Line. You know that, don’t you?”

“All the more reason to come with you. You’ve clearly got a death wish; someone has to look out for you.”

Peter grinned. “You know, it must be my lucky day, because first a tall blond hunk in tight black leather screeches in on a motorbike and accosts me, and then it turns out he’s my fiancé. You do look very hot in those leathers, Joe.” He looked Josiah up and down – slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Josiah grinned and moved in close. He hoisted Peter up onto the jeep and unzipped his trousers.

Peter laughed. “You gonna fuck me here?”

“Why not? You’re not the only one who likes living dangerously.” He pulled Peter’s trousers open, and Peter obligingly lifted his arse so he could strip them away.

It was the hottest sex they’d ever had, Josiah fully clothed in his leathers, Peter arse-naked on the hood of the jeep.

Afterwards, Josiah rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, while Peter lightly caressed his hair. He felt Peter’s ring against the side of his face, and it made his chest swell with pride. He had put that ring on Peter’s finger. This charismatic man had chosen to marry him , for some reason. He was suddenly overcome and buried his head in Peter’s shoulder to hide his tears.

“Idiot,” Peter whispered affectionately.

Josiah managed a shaky smile as he drew back. “Guilty as charged, Captain.”

“So, how do you want this to work?” Peter asked, sliding off the side of the jeep and pulling up his trousers. “What will we say to the unit?”

“We’ll tell them, and if they want to make a complaint about us, they can. I won’t ask them to lie for us. From now on, I make my own bloody rules – and rule number one is that you’re mine, I love you, and I’ll protect you with my life. ”

“I did manage to stay alive before I met you, you know.” Peter grinned.

“Well, that’s my job now,” Josiah said firmly.

He could hear a knocking sound somewhere, but he ignored it. He was with Peter, and he wanted to stay there forever.

The knocking grew even louder and more insistent, and then the door burst open.

“Investigator Raine? Sir?” a voice called, and then, in a firmer tone, “Josiah!”

A hand grasped his wrist and held on tight, bringing his frenzied punching to a halt, forcing him to return to the present. He blinked. Alexander was standing in front of him, his dark hair standing up in tousled points.

“Joe, are you with me?” he asked gently.

Josiah stared at him blankly, his chest heaving.

“I heard noises… I was worried,” Alexander said, guiding his arms down to his sides. “What’s going on? Can you tell me?”

Josiah squinted at him blearily, sweat stinging his eyes. “I said I’d protect him, but I didn’t. I let him down. If I hadn’t left the car, if I’d been more bloody careful…”

“Don’t do this to yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know – you weren’t there!”

“Everyone knows what happened that night – it was all over the news.”

Alexander took hold of his face and held it firmly, forcing Josiah to look at him. “Listen to me – you are not to blame. Nobody could have predicted what happened to Peter.”

“If I’d run faster, got there sooner… if I hadn’t left him in the car…”

“You couldn’t be with him every second of the day. You couldn’t have known he’d be attacked.”

Josiah gazed at him helplessly. “I couldn’t save him… I tried…”

“Of course you did.” Alexander’s eyes were full of compassion. “You did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault. ”

“I failed him.” He was back by the car again, Peter’s body resting in his lap, his blood soaking him to the skin. He didn’t want to remember that.

He glanced over Alexander’s shoulder at the punch bag. He had to do something – anything – to block out the memory.

“Stop it,” Alexander ordered.

“I can’t. It’s in my head. It’s always the same dream… nightmare… memory… I don’t know what to call it, but I can’t sleep. I need… I need…”

“This.” Alexander leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips.

Josiah hung there, in surprise. He was acutely aware of the indie’s hard body pressed up against his own, and the softness of his lips… and then he was lost.

An old, half-remembered instinct stirred in his belly, then uncoiled, roaring back to life with a vengeance.

He grabbed Alexander’s hips and pulled him close, returning the kiss ferociously, forcing his lips open and exploring his mouth savagely with his tongue, like a wild animal. Wrapping his hand in Alexander’s hair, he rutted against him, keening with desperate desire.

Alexander held steady beneath Josiah’s frenzied caresses, absorbing all of his turmoil. He was a rock beneath the onslaught of his frantic passion, and it was that, finally, that broke through the fog and brought him back to himself.

“I’m sorry… oh shit… I’m sorry.” He came to, his chest heaving.

He released his grasp on Alexander’s hair, and the sexual fire raging inside him died, abruptly, leaving him desperately ashamed. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know why I did that. I never lose control.”

“Maybe you should, occasionally.” Alexander stroked gentle, calming circles on his back.

“Christ, I miss him,” he admitted brokenly. “I miss him so much.”

“Of course you do,” Alexander whispered. “But it’s okay. I’m here.”

“You’re not him,” he snapped.

Alexander’s hands stopped stroking and fell uselessly to his sides. Josiah wished he knew a way to ask for them back.

“I know, but you can have me, if you want me,” Alexander told him quietly. “If you want to fuck me, you can. ”

Josiah shook his head and then forced himself to pull away and take a step back. He took several deep gulps of air to calm himself.

“It might help, when you feel like this. If not me, then you should go to a gay bar and find someone to fuck.”

“No.”

“It’d be much less painful for you than beating yourself to a pulp.” He ran his fingers gently over Josiah’s bleeding knuckles.

“I said no,” Josiah ground out.

“Why not? A good-looking man like you, built like you…” Alexander trailed off, realisation flooding into his eyes. “Oh,” he breathed. “There’s been nobody since Peter, has there? Not even a one-night stand? Oh, Josiah.” His eyes were full of a pity that Josiah didn’t want.

“You wouldn’t understand. Like you said, you’ve never been in love,” he snarled.

Alexander smile was pained. “You’re right, but I know what it’s like to hurt, and you’re hurting right now.”

“I’ll be fine.” He straightened up.

“No, you won’t. Have you ever seen someone about it?”

“About what?” He stared at the indie blankly.

“Peter’s death. You were beating that punch bag like a madman because you couldn’t save him. For some reason you think that was your mission in life, but you’re not superhuman. You’re not to blame, Joe. You’re really not.” Alexander reached out to stroke the side of his face gently.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to see anyone. I don’t usually have that nightmare… in the beginning, maybe, but not for some time. I don’t know why now…”

“Don’t you?” Alexander studied him intently. “Are you sure you don’t know why?”

Josiah blinked. “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping. The anniversary of his death has hit me particularly hard this year, for some reason.” He felt foolish for being so weak in front of this man, of all people.

Alexander considered that for a moment and then gave a little nod. “Well, that all makes sense, I suppose,” he said .

He picked up Josiah’s hand. “Your knuckles are raw. We should go clean them up.”

He led Josiah to the bathroom, still holding his hand. Josiah followed him obediently, like a dog. Filling the basin with warm water, Alexander gently put Josiah’s hands into it, and Josiah watched from what felt like a great distance as the water turned pink.

“Why didn’t you wear boxing gloves?” Alexander searched in the cupboard under the sink and found the first aid box.

“I wanted to feel it.”

“The pain or the punch bag?”

“Both.”

“As a way to stop yourself feeling something else – something worse?” Alexander suggested.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

Taking his hands out of the water, Alexander wrapped them gently in a towel to dry them. Then he carefully soothed ointment onto the wounds and dressed them.

Josiah wasn’t used to being taken care of, and was surprised by how good it felt. “I really am sorry about your brother,” he said softly. “I know how much that hurt you.”

Alexander gave a wan smile. “It did.”

“You deserve better.”

“No, I don’t – but you do.” Alexander brushed the back of his hand over his cheek. “You look like shit – you really need to get some sleep.”

Josiah stared at him miserably. He couldn’t go back to bed and face that nightmare again, but he didn’t want to admit that.

“I was wondering… could I sleep in your bed tonight?” Alexander asked kindly, seeming to understand. “Just sleeping – nothing else. You see, I haven’t been sleeping well, either. I was lying in bed awake all this time, thinking about Charles… so I could use the company.”

“Okay,” Josiah said gruffly. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help himself. He longed for human companionship, for someone to share his bed and keep the nightmares at bay.

He allowed Alexander to lead him back into the bedroom and help him into the bed. The IS got in beside him and burrowed down under the duvet, keeping plenty of distance between them .

There was a long silence. Josiah was tense, unmoving. This was the bed he’d shared with Peter and nobody else – not ever. It felt wrong. It was wrong.

Slowly, very slowly, Alexander edged closer. He inched his way towards him until they were side by side. They lay that way for a long time, stiff and still, barely breathing.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, something inside him broke, and he let out a sigh that seemed to emanate from deep within. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around Alexander’s waist and drew him in close.

Alexander relaxed against him with a relieved sigh, and he held him tightly, breathing in the scent of his hair and relishing the heat of his body. It was the first time he’d held a man in his arms since Peter, and it should have felt like a betrayal – but it didn’t.

“Let me go, Joe , ” Peter’s voice whispered.

I don’t know how , he thought sadly.

Outside, the rain was lashing against the window, and the swing was creaking crazily as it was buffeted by the wind. He closed his eyes and held Alexander tight.

This was a big mistake. If he could have chosen any man to share his bed and help him get over the death of his husband, it would never, in a million years, have been this one.

Alexander Lytton was no Peter Hunt, breaking the rules for the greater good. He was a liar and a thief who couldn’t hold a candle to Peter… but that didn’t stop Josiah clinging on to him anyway.

There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea to allow Lytton to get so close, but right now he didn’t care about any of them. Right now, all he wanted was to feel the warmth and comfort of holding him tightly in his arms.

He’d face the consequences tomorrow.

End of Book One

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