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"Zombies! Re-Acquaintances", team-centric, PG-13
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woodchoc_magnum wrote in woodchoc_fic
Title: "Zombies! Re-Acquaintances"
Author: woodchoc_magnum
Pairing: Part 1 is gen, Part 2 is Hotch/Prentiss, and Part 3 is gen
Characters: Part 1 features Rossi and a special guest star, Part 2 is Hotch/Prentiss and Part 3 features Morgan, Garcia and Reid and another special guest star.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,918
Warnings: Swearing, zombies, nudity
Summary: Rossi picks up strays, Hotch and Prentiss like to destroy things and Morgan, Garcia and Reid fight a LOT.
Author's Notes: This is long, and I hope some of it is funny. Enjoy!

Other chapters are here, here, here and here, and there are mini chapters here (#7) and here (#6 and #7).

Part 1 – Reunion

David Rossi had been enjoying the quiet life, living in his cabin with ten dogs, four cats, four birds, eight chickens, six ducks, two cows and two horses. Life was pretty straightforward – wake up at five, feed the animals, fight off zombies, cook breakfast, fight zombies, watch a DVD, eat lunch, fight zombies, post-zombie fighting afternoon nap, afternoon tea, fight zombies, go for a ride on a horse, fight zombies, feed the pets again, make dinner, fight zombies, go to bed.

Some days, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t see any zombies at all. Those were the best days. The undead seemed to be migrating, heading somewhere unknown. He used to go for days or even weeks without being troubled by a wayward zombie, and now it was a daily occurrence. It didn’t help that their rotting flesh attracted bears and other predators, and he didn’t particularly want a rogue bear in his yard attacking his cows – or worse, his chickens.

But the most troubling thing was his rapidly diminishing supply of ammunition – due to increased zombie activity, he’d been going through his supply far too quickly, and was running low. It wasn’t just the lack of ammunition that worried him – the supply of petrol was running out as well, and he needed more cat and dog food.

A part of him was still kicking himself for stumbling across that ramshackle barn and rescuing the mother pug and her three pups. He wasn’t heartless, and it would’ve been cruel to leave them there. It was the apocalypse! How was a pug and her pups going to fend for themselves? What if they were eaten by a bear, or even worse – a zombie? He’d never seen a zombie eat a pug before but it was within the realm of possibility.

So he’d taken Daffodil – she just looked like a Daffodil, and he wouldn’t hear any complaints about the name – and her three pug puppies home to his cabin, where they’d settled in with Billy the Beagle, Rowan the Rottweiler (who was actually a Rowena but the name stuck), Barry the Bloodhound, Larry the Labrador, Sharon the Shih Tzu and Morgan’s dog Clooney. His accumulating numbers of canines were a valuable security device – as soon as they dogs even spotted movement from the forest surrounding the cabin, whether it be zombie, bear, deer or otherwise, the barking would start, and Rossi would launch out of the house with his shotgun to investigate.

Once he’d launched out of his house and promptly into the company of a black bear, and after he’d finished screaming he fired a couple of warning shots in the air and the bear scampered back into the woods where it had come from.


Rossi awoke before sunrise and set about his morning chores. He’d finished feeding the cows and horses and had killed a few zombies before he loaded up the car with some essential items and Clooney.

Daffodil the pug and her three puppies – Huey, Duey and Louie (although Rossi suspected Huey was a girl and not a boy) – sat forlornly on the rug in the living room, gazing at him with sad eyes. He knelt down to pat Daffodil’s head. “There’s a good girl. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Daffodil let out a heavy sigh and rested her chin on her paws, gazing up at him miserably.

David Rossi, his big, manly heart breaking, bit his lip as he stood up. He loved that dog. He loved that dog so much he let her sleep in his bed with him and eat off his plate when he was finished with his food. Daffodil whimpered as he slung a backpack over his shoulder and opened the front door. Rossi glanced back at her once more, biting back tears, and said hoarsely, “Be home soon, Daffy.”

Yes, it was pathetic, getting so attached to an animal in the midst of an apocalypse. But he hadn’t seen a living human in over a year, and Daffodil... well, she just seemed to understand him. And she listened. Clooney never listened, just sat around and slobbered and looked generally ridiculous with his big fluffy coat and his pink tongue always lolling out of his mouth.

Daffodil was a classy dog. Rossi respected that in an animal.


He loaded up Clooney in the front passenger seat of his truck, and started the engine. He had half a tank of petrol, the last of his supply, and he hoped it would last him the length of the trip. Clooney rested his gigantic head on the dashboard of the car and stared out the windscreen as they drove down the driveway, and Dave reached out a hand to scratch the dog behind the ears. Yes, it was big and stupid (much like Morgan, Dave reflected evilly), but it was a good dog and it was loyal. He knew if he ran into any trouble, Clooney would defend him.

The drive into town was mostly uneventful – a few undead lurched along the road, some missing limbs, one with a hole blown clean through its chest, but Dave ignored them. He figured if they were still there on the return journey, he’d take care of it then.

He was about ten minutes outside of town when he spotted something unfamiliar in the distance. It was a blue truck, parked across the middle of the road, with ‘HELP’ written across the side in big letters. Dave slowed to a stop, reaching for his handgun. The last time he’d made this trip, that car hadn’t been there.

The truly shocking thing was the fact that Dave had not expected to see anyone living – in fact, he hadn’t seen anyone or even any signs of living people in the entire year since the apocalypse. The only people he’d seen were dead, or dying, or undead. So this car meant that someone living had been driving it – someone who might still be inside, or who might be waiting to ambush him.

His senses on overdrive, he flicked the safety to ‘off’ on his gun, opened the door, and slowly got out. The abandoned car sat ominously in the distance, and Clooney brushed past Dave’s legs as he stepped out into the open, looking from left to right. He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and turned, suddenly, as a man stepped out from the trees with his hands held up. Rossi levelled the gun at him, heart pounding, and Clooney began to bark, the fur on his body bristling as he stood protectively in front of his master.

“Please,” the man called, his hands held high above his head. “Can I have a ride?”

Rossi narrowed his eyes, and as the person stepped closer a thought flashed through his head - ‘I know you.’ He kept the gun raised, taking a step forward, and the penny dropped. “Jason?”

Jason Gideon dropped his hands in shock. “Dave?”

Clooney growled.


Clooney sat between the two veteran profilers as Dave drove toward the town, glancing distrustfully at Gideon out of the corner of his eye every so often. Gideon was doing the same, his hands clenched on his lap. There had been a stony silence ever since Dave had relented and allowed Gideon to come with him.

He couldn’t pick up a hot babe in need of some assistance – no. It had to be Jason Gideon.

Dave scratched between Clooney’s ears, still tense, wondering how he’d found himself in this mess. The one person he’d been happy never to see again was sitting beside him, looking pale and thin and exhausted. If Dave had liked Jason Gideon, he would’ve felt sorry for him. As it was, he was just annoyed.

“So how have you been?” Jason asked conversationally, and Dave gripped the steering wheel tighter.


“How’s... Mary?”

“Divorced. Dead, probably. Or undead. I don’t know. Your wife... uh, Angela? Betty?”

“Joan. Divorced. Turned into a zombie and I killed her.”

“Tough break.”

“Yeah, it was rough.” Gideon glanced at Dave uncomfortably. “Heard you were back at the BAU, before... this.”

“I was.”

“The team? Hotch?”

“Good, but dead now, probably. We all went our separate ways. Well, I’m pretty sure Hotch would be all right. He can survive anything.”

“Yeah.” Gideon twisted his hands together. “You live around here?”

Dave didn’t particularly want to divulge that information, so he gave a non-committal shrug. “Hereabouts. You just travelling?”

“Looking for a place to stay, actually.”

‘Don’t think you’re staying with me,’ Rossi thought bitterly.


The town was quiet and deserted and Rossi was disappointed to find the gun store had been completely trashed. “God damn it.”

“You need more guns?” Jason asked as they pulled up outside the store.

“Ammo,” Rossi replied, slinging his shotgun over his arm and opening the front door. “Back in a sec. You steal my car, Jason, I’ll come back and shoot you to death.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Gideon muttered unhappily, leaning back in his seat and watching as Rossi and the dog stalked in through the open front door and started rummaging around.

Dave was pleased to find the looters had taken mostly shotguns and rifles and left a lot of the smaller stuff behind. He stuffed a duffle bag full of ammunition for his handguns, found a couple of boxes of shell casings and in a miracle discovery, stashed away under the front counter – an AK-47.

Dave grabbed the gun eagerly, and was even more pleased to discover a few clips for it. He shoved them into his bag, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a dirty magazine from underneath the counter as a bonus, and left the store.

Gideon was still sitting in the car, gazing up at the sky, and Rossi heaved a sigh as he hefted the bag into the back of the truck. How the hell was he going to deal with this? Obviously the man hadn’t been eating, and he looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a year. The one thing Rossi had discovered about himself during the apocalypse was that he was the kind of person who took in old dogs and gave them a home, and it was just against his nature to not want to do the same for Gideon.

Hell, they’d gotten along once upon a time, before Rossi had realised what an egotistical bastard Jason Gideon was and they’d had that falling out that had ultimately assisted Rossi in his decision to leave the BAU. But they used to be friends.

Dave held open the door for the dog to jump into the car and then climbed behind the wheel, glancing over at Gideon. “What have you been doing since the apocalypse, Jason?”

Jason Gideon shrugged, and told Rossi the story of how he’d hidden away in a small cabin while things were really bad, and then headed out on the open road. He’d been on the trail of some people, trying to catch up with them, but ultimately failing – they’d knocked down a building with a wrecking ball, and destroyed downtown Dallas with a bulldozer. He’d ultimately never been able to catch up with them – they were constantly on the move, and he could only tell where they’d been by the huge amount of carnage and burnt down cities they left in their wake.

He’d been on his own, scavenging food where he could find it, until his car had broken down forty miles from David Rossi’s cabin in the woods.


Dave wreaked havoc on the small supermarket in the town, piling up his truck as much as he could, before stealing a trailer from an abandoned car nearby and filling that up as well. Jason helped out, hefting bags of horse feed into the tray of the truck, as well as boxes and boxes of dog and cat food. Rossi was exhausted by the time they were done, and the sun was almost setting.

He could barely believe it himself when he said to Jason, “You may as well just come back to my place.”

Jason looked shocked, and then relieved. He leaned on the truck and said honestly, “I don’t know how much longer I can go on by myself.”

Dave, who adored being by himself – well, as by himself as he could be with nearly forty animals in and around his house – and who loved the apocalypse solely because it meant he had no responsibilities other than to his pets, merely nodded and held open the door. “Might be good for me as well to have someone human around.”

They nodded at each other, and got back into the car. Clooney licked Dave’s face as he sat down, and Dave pushed the dog away unhappily. “Can’t wait til Morgan gets back and picks you up, you damn mutt.”

Clooney licked him again.


By the time Rossi turned back down his driveway, the sun had set and it was pitch black. He and Jason had exchanged in small talk on the way back, and Rossi was already kicking himself for bringing Jason back with him.

The security lights flicked on as they came up the drive, and a zombie lurched out of the darkness. Rossi swore, rolled down a window and pointed his 9mm at it. He pulled the trigger and its head exploded. “Gonna have to bury that tomorrow, damn it.”

He reversed the truck and trailer awkwardly up to the house and climbed out of the front seat, fishing his house keys out of his pocket. As he was unlocking the front door, Jason leaned against the back of the truck and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You bother locking up?”

“Looters,” Rossi muttered.

“If they want to get in, they’ll just break a window.”

“Still.” Dave pushed the door open and reached inside to flick on a light. There was a bark, and Daffodil the pug bounded down the hallway toward him, bouncing around his feet and jumping up on him. He laughed, bending down to pick up the writhing pug, and hugged her as she licked his face. “Oh you’re a good girl, you’re such a good girl, Daddy’s home now! Daddy’s home!”

There was a snort of laughter, and Rossi suddenly remember he wasn’t alone. He glanced over at Jason. “You want to stay here?”

Jason hid his smile behind his hand and looked away.

There was a loud meow and Petunia the Persian cat wandered down the hallway, followed by Jazz, Socks and Grumpy. Rossi shut the door before the cats could get out, placed Daffodil down on the ground, and shrugged at Gideon. “I have a lot of pets.”

“I can see that.”

“Four cats.”


“Ten dogs.”

“Ten?!” Gideon exclaimed, and then yelped as Daffodil clamped her jaws down his ankle. “Ow!”

“Bad dog,” Rossi chided half-heartedly, swooping his beloved Daffodil away from Gideon and hugging her close. “She’s just protective.”

“Sure,” Jason muttered, rubbing his wounded ankle.

Daffodil barked happily, and licked Rossi on the nose.


Part 2 – Firebugs

Emily Prentiss sat on the undercarriage of the upturned bus and leaned against Hotch, watching as the sun set over the burning Tulsa skyline. “Just beautiful, isn’t it?”

Hotch slung an arm around her shoulders. “I should feel guilty for inadvertently burning down a city, shouldn’t I?”

“No, it was an accident. You had no idea that oil tanker had... oil in it.” Emily patted his knee, leaning against him comfortably. “What a lovely evening. The smell of burning zombies doesn’t ruin it at all.”

“No, not at all.” Hotch reached down beside him and then handed her a pink flower. “I found this as we were running down that alley. Thought I’d snag it for you.”

Emily took the flower from him and hummed happily. “You always think of the sweetest things.”

There was a scrabbling sound behind them and Hotch picked up his gun, firing at the zombie trying to clamber onto the upturned bus. It fell to the ground with a splat, and Hotch relaxed, kissing Emily again. “I do it because I love you.”

“I love you too, Aaron. This has just been the best apocalypse ever.”


“I think this is a bad idea.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“I think you should put some clothes on before you do that.”

“I think you should mind your own business.”

“I think you’ll singe your nipples if you keep lighting all these candles.”

“Aaron, I am not going to singe my nipples!”


Emily blew out the match and turned to face Hotch, her hands on her hips. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“You’re going to burn the place down.”

“I am not going to burn anything down.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you said that, and then did.”

“I’m sorry, do you even want to get laid? I waxed my bikini line for you, see?”

“You always wax your bikini line.”

“For you!”

“No, because you feel sexier with a waxed bikini line – you told me that, Emily, we spend every day together!”

“Are you saying you’re sick of me?”


“Are you saying you don’t like my bikini line?”


“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you did a little maintenance yourself, you know. Down there. Hedge trimming, that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man!”

“So? You can still have pride in your appearance, Aaron. Sometimes I don’t even want to put it in my mouth.”

“I said you didn’t have to do that if you didn’t want to!”

“Please. You men all say that and then you complain when we don’t want to do it.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re a man, aren’t you?”


“Then you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I DON’T.”


“When have I ever done that, Emily?”

“You... you... fine! Fine, you’ve never done that, but you’re a man so it will come up at some point.”

“No, it won’t, because I’m not like that.”

“So you don’t like it?”

“Like what?”

“Blow jobs.”

“Well... well, yes, of course I do.”

“So if you don’t trim your hedge, you’re not getting another one.”



As they argued, one of Emily’s strategically placed candles caught the edge of the lace curtains as they fluttered in the breeze.


Ten minutes later, Emily wrapped a blanket tighter around her body and rested her hands on her hips, gazing at the fire blazing in the house they were previously occupying. Hotch dragged their bag of guns out onto the lawn, gripping a towel tightly around his waist. He glanced at her, his lips tight, and then looked up at the house.

“This is not my fault.”

“Did I say anything?”

“No, but you implied it.”

Hotch fumbled to keep the towel tight around his hips, and glanced back at her again. “Why do you insist on burning everything down?”

“I don’t!”

“You do! This is the fourth place you’ve torched!”

“It was an accident, and it wasn’t my fault!”

“I think you do this on purpose,” Hotch muttered as the wind blew his towel up around his legs. He whirled around, trying to tame the wayward material, and Emily doubled over with laughter.

“Nice ass!”

He flushed red with embarrassment, dropping the towel completely. Emily grinned at him, hitching her sheet up around her chest. He took a step toward her, raising his eyebrows. “Your turn.”

“My turn for what?” she asked, backing away. He reached out suddenly, grabbing the end of the sheet, and pulled. She yelped as it unravelled around her, and glowered at him. “So not funny.”

“Your bikini wax does look pretty good.”

Emily looked down at herself. “I thought so myself.”

He threw the sheet on the ground and stepped toward her again, pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Do you love me even if I set things on fire?”

He smirked, running a hand through her hair. “I’m learning to live with it.”


Part 3 – Drama, Drama, Drama

Spencer Reid was not the kind of person who usually broke the rules. In fact, he liked to follow them, because following the rules very rarely led to any kind of danger. But sometimes, he decided, you just have to live a little.

He was sick of being Morgan’s little punching bag, the one who got blamed when anything went wrong, even though most of the time it was Garcia’s fault. He was sick of listening to Morgan snore – and he did snore, and he snored loudly, and it drove Reid CRAZY – and being in crashed cars, because Morgan drove too fast and recklessly. He was sick of Garcia complaining about the number of zombies they killed, and how they used to be people, and why were Reid and Morgan being so cruel.

He just wanted some peace and quiet.

Which is why, when they were holed up in a house in Cheyenne, late at night when Morgan was busy trying to seduce Penelope for the hundredth time and getting knocked back (Reid didn’t understand why she just didn’t say yes already, because that was obviously where it was heading), he stole some guns and snuck out of the house, prepared to head out on his own. He knew it was a rash decision, but he figured that at least they’d know he was serious.

Unfortunately, he greatly underestimated the vast quantity of zombies and quickly found himself in a tight spot, stuck on the roof of a building on the outskirts of the city, which was now surrounded by hundreds of zombies. Reid had barricaded himself up there as best he could, and he leaned on the ledge, gazing down at the horde. He’d made a huge mistake. He probably should’ve picked himself up a car sooner rather than seeking out something more sporty.

He heard the car before he was able to see it, and stood up, looking around quickly. The sun was just rising over the horizon, and he shielded his eyes as the car came into view – it was some kind of Corvette, he could tell, and the tyres squealed as it swerved around a corner. He instantly knew it wasn’t Morgan – the last time Morgan had attempted a stunt like that, he’d nearly rolled the car and killed them all.

As he watched, a slender arm extended out the window and something was thrown into the zombies. Reid ducked as the explosion shook the foundations of the building he was trapped on, and he felt the heat from the blast scorch his face. He gasped, covering his face with his hands, and cowered in a ball.

There was gunfire, and another explosion from the other side of the building, and as the dust was settling Reid heard something banging on the door to the roof before it was flung open, and a very pissed off woman was striding toward him.

“You incompetent idiot,” she snapped, pulling two handguns from her shoulder holster and pointing them at him. “You should be dead, you know?”

Reid lowered his hands from his eyes and gaped at her. “Elle?”

Elle Greenaway tossed her hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the side. “You’re welcome, Reid.”


Morgan had just discovered Reid was missing when the prodigal son returned to the house, looking thoroughly chastised. Morgan was just preparing to launch into a tirade when somebody walked through the door behind Reid.

His voice faltered, and all he could manage was a stunned, “Elle?”

Elle grinned. “Derek. Good to see you.”

There she stood, in all her glory – thinner than the last time Morgan had seen her, but still looking pretty fierce. Her hair was much longer than it used to be, and she wore a pair of tight blue jeans, a red shirt and a brown leather jacket. She gave Morgan an appraising look up and down and nodded approvingly.

Garcia wandered out into the living room, pulling her dressing gown around herself as she gaped at their visitor. “Elle?”

Elle managed a tight smile in Garcia’s direction, but kept her gaze on Morgan. “Found Reid hiding up on a building like a squirrel.”

“I got stuck,” Reid murmured, looking contrite.

“You ran away?” Morgan snapped at him. “I can’t believe you, Reid! I’m so disappointed in you.”

Fresh anger flared in Reid’s eyes, and he jabbed a finger at Morgan. “YOU ARE NOT MY FATHER!”

“Thank god!”

“You need to stop bossing me around!”

Morgan gestured around wildly. “Reid, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of an apocalypse here?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Elle snapped at them, slamming the door shut.

Morgan looked at her sharply. “What?”

“Would you two calm down? It’s just the end of the world, no need to start waking up all the zombies that are around. I thought catching up with you would be good, but if you’re just going to be arguing all the time, I’d rather go on by myself.”

Morgan blinked in surprise. “You’ve been... looking for us?”

She nodded. “Following you, actually. I caught your trail a few weeks ago in Denver, followed you all the way to Aspen, and then here. Didn’t know it was you in particular, but I knew you were alive, and that was good enough for me.”

“What if we were cannibal rednecks?” Reid asked curiously.

Elle shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I’d just have to take you out.”

Garcia gulped, and stepped closer to Morgan. “Funny.”

“You’d be surprised,” Elle muttered, dumping her bag on the table.

Morgan looked a little speechless, and glanced at Garcia for help. “So, you’re coming with us then?” she asked, her voice a little high.

Elle shrugged. “Only if it’s cool with you guys. I’m really looking forward to having some company. I was with my boyfriend, but he got bitten.”

“Ouch,” Morgan said sympathetically. “Same thing happened to Garcia’s boyfriend, but I took care of it.”

Garcia grumbled under her breath.

Elle caught the look on her face and looked a little sympathetic. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It really does,” Garcia said quietly.

Morgan felt a momentary flash of guilt, and slung an arm around Garcia’s shoulders. He didn’t know when he’d stop paying for Kevin’s death, but maybe that had something to do with why Garcia kept rejecting his advances.

“So Derek,” Elle said after a moment’s silence. “You’re looking pretty good, you know. Bigger than the last time I saw you.”

Morgan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Well, you know, zombie killing works wonders for the physique. A lot of manual labour, you know.”

Garcia rolled her eyes.

“Where’s the rest of the team? Dead?” Elle pulled out a chair and sat down, gazing up at Morgan curiously.

“We’re not sure. Hotch and Prentiss went one way, Rossi went another.”


“Your replacement,” Reid supplied.

“Oh.” Elle looked thoughtful. “Hotch went off with a woman?”

“He didn’t have much of a choice, really, we all got separated,” Garcia replied, grasping Morgan’s arm possessively and stepping closer to him.

Elle glanced at Morgan and Garcia appraisingly. “Are you two together?”

“No,” Morgan said bitterly, yanking his arm away from Garcia.

“Not yet,” Garcia retorted through gritted teeth, grabbing him again.

Morgan turned to face her disbelievingly. “Are you kidding me? I have been trying every trick in my playbook to get with you, and you reject me at every turn – now you’re saying we’re not together YET? YET?”

Garcia glared at him. “That’s what I said.”

“Women do get to call the shots,” Elle agreed. “Besides Morgan, I’ve witnessed firsthand those tricks you use – they’re not going to work on Garcia. She’s too classy for that.”

“Thank you!” Garcia said triumphantly, gesturing to Elle. “See? She gets it.”

Elle smiled at Garcia warmly.

Morgan threw his hands up in disgust. “I can’t believe you two! Am I really going to have you all ganging up on me now?”

“Yes,” Garcia, Elle and Reid said at the same time.

Morgan wondered if it wasn’t nearly time for him to run away.


Reid discovered that having a fourth person around seemed to alleviate a lot of the tension they’d all been feeling. In the time since the apocalypse, the three of them only had each other, and it was wearing thin. Garcia couldn’t even make Reid smile the way she used to, and Morgan was just annoying, acting like he was their father and calling the shots – and nearly getting them killed, more often than not.

Elle added a welcome new dynamic. She and Garcia would sit in the back of the car and talk while Morgan and Reid argued about directions and which way they should go. She’d listen patiently when Reid was rambling on about the zombies they’d killed, and she’d indulge Morgan when he attempt to flirt with her. All in all, it was a good fit.

He even found himself wanting to stick with the group awhile longer, just to see how it panned out. Besides, after the rooftop incident in Cheyenne, he really wasn’t ready to tackle zombies by himself again.

And Morgan had no problems reminding him of that fact.

-the end, for now-

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