Chapter Text
He didn’t want to die here.
Tony stared up at the stone ceiling of the Siberian bunker, the thought revolving around in circles. He didn’t want to die here.
He supposed that was the thing about dying, most of the time you weren’t exactly given a choice about it. This—abandoned in a Hydra base by someone he had considered a friend—was certainly not the choice that Tony would have made.
The rage had fled him sometime in the first few hours, leaving him unmoored in a sea of grief. His mom. Barnes had killed his mom.
His mom had always deserved better, better than Howard, better than Tony, better than to die as collateral for Howard’s secrets. He had always thought that Howard had gotten her killed because he was drunk. Now he knew that Howard had gotten her killed because he had never been able to let go of his obsession with Steve Rogers—Steve Rogers and that damn serum that had done so much more harm than good. Why else would he have endangered his mom by carrying that serum while she was in the car?
And Steve had known. Had known that his parents had not just died, but had been killed. Had known that his mom had been brutally murdered, by Barnes, by Hydra. And he’d said nothing. Nothing. Like his mother had never mattered. Like his mother hadn’t deserved justice.
The thought was almost as painful as the hole in his chest and the blood in his lungs.
He was running out of time, now. He could feel it in the ache in his chest, in the way he could no longer feel his fingers, in the way air seemed harder and harder to grasp, in the way the edges of his vision were tinged gray.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words coming out bloody and ragged. He wasn’t sure who he was saying it to. To himself, maybe, for all the mistakes he’d made that had led him here. To his mom, who had deserved so much better. To Pepper, who had left him because she never wanted to be the one to get this call and would anyways. To Rhodey, who had trusted him and fallen for Tony’s fight in the suit of armor that Tony had crafted for him. To FRIDAY, who had been forced to watch as her creator fell and would now be helpless to do anything to save him. Maybe even to Barnes, who had been as innocent as Hydra had been guilty, even if Tony had had to watch him murder his mom with his bare hand. “I never meant for it to end this way.”
But it was the risk he’d chosen, again and again.
His eyes fell closed, resignation heavy within him. Some part of him recognized that they wouldn’t be opening again.
Some part of him recognized that he was okay with that.
There was noise around him, his brain’s final hallucination. He heard his name, sharp and demanding. Perhaps it was Howard, here to drag him down to a hell Tony didn’t even believe in.
He’d fought Howard and his demands and expectations all his life, but this time…
It would be easier, he thought, to let go, to let it all be finished, even as a part of him demanded that he not give up.
It wasn’t a question of giving up, though. It was a question of inevitability.
And Tony was tired of fighting the inevitable.
Behind his closed eyes the world burned green.
Tony woke up, the steady beep of some sort of monitor echoing in his ears. He stared up at the ceiling, a bland sort-of white that, in combination with the beeping, he knew immediately belonged to a hospital.
He turned his head slowly, taking in the numerous machines he was hooked up to. “What the hell?” he asked, though the words came out croaked and raspy.
“Tony?”
He recognized the voice immediately and turned slowly to take in the sight of Pepper. Her eyes were red, the sign of her tears all too clear, even to his tired eyes. “Pepper? How? Where am I?”
Pepper reached out, pressing a button to call someone in now that he was awake, before grasping his hand. He could barely feel it through the heavy bandaging around his fingers. He wondered just how badly frostbitten his fingers were.
“You’re in Metro General. We’re not quite sure how you managed to get here, but they found you in one of the doctor’s offices.” She gave him a slightly reprimanding look as though it was somehow his fault.
“Metro General,” he repeated. “As in Metro General in New York?” What the hell? That made no sense. Behind Pepper the door opened and a doctor slid in, the woman pausing at the door as though to give them a moment.
Pepper nodded. “Yes. They said it was a miracle you got yourself here in your condition,” she said, words quiet as though she was still trying to convince herself that it had really happened, that he had somehow pulled off another miracle.
Except he hadn’t gotten himself here. This miracle hadn’t been one of his own making. The denial caught in his throat as he noticed the doctor who’d just entered glance away guiltily. Tony ignored it for now, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that the doctor clearly knew more than she was saying to anyone.
“Where’s Rhodey?” he asked, focusing on what was the far more important question.
“Still in the hospital in Germany,” Pepper said gently. And it was never good when Pepper got gentle. No, gentle meant that something was wrong.
“What’s his diagnosis?” he asked quietly.
A conflicted look crossed Pepper’s face. “He’ll probably never walk again,” she said quietly. “But he’s alive and that’s in no danger of changing. He’ll make it through, Tony. That’s all that matters.”
A sick feeling crawled up his throat. Rhodey.
“Speaking of living—“ the doctor interrupted, and Tony found himself grateful. Grateful that for a moment he wouldn’t have to think about Rhodey, Rhodey never walking again. “—you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Lucky,” Tony repeated, not sure if he agreed with the sentiment.
He didn’t feel lucky. He just felt tired.
“So, how did I really get here?” he asked pointedly once Pepper had left to make a call to the hospital in Germany to get Rhodey’s status, watching as Doctor Palmer glanced over his charts with a practiced eye.
Doctor Palmer glanced at him but didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Like your friend said, we’re not sure.”
“Hmm,” he agreed. “They aren’t. But you are.”
She shifted again, glancing behind her as though worried someone would come in and hear his questions. “Look, it was… you were found in my office, yes. But I don’t have any proof—“
“But you have an idea,” he interrupted. “You have some idea on how I got from dying in a Hydra bunker in Siberia to your office in time for me to not die.”
She sighed, giving him a sad sort of smile. “Look, I… I don’t have the answers you want.”
He examined her for a long moment before nodding, he believed her, to a point. It was clear she knew at least part of how he’d gotten here, but she found it just as much a mystery as to why. Tony wasn’t sure which answer was more important to him, the how or the why. “You know who does, though.” It wasn’t a question.
She bit her lip. “Look, let me… let me try to figure this out. I can’t answer your questions, but I do know someone who should be able to. Someone who would have sent you to me.”
He stared at her for a long moment, but he got the sense that she wasn’t going to budge. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m willing to wait.” Wait, but not give up. He would get his answers.
Tony stared at the man who’d just entered his hospital room. He was dressed in some sort of renaissance faire outfit with a long cape billowing behind him as though being pushed around by the wind. Not that there was any wind to find in his hospital room, there was barely even air conditioning, given Tony’s current aversion to the cold. “What the hell is that?” He gestured to the still-moving cape, wincing at the sight of his bandage-covered hands.
The man raised a condescending eyebrow. “The Cloak of Levitation.”
Tony tried to move himself up on the bed so that he wasn’t laying quite so vulnerably, but he fell back, pain lancing through his chest. “The what of the what now?”
That earned him narrowed eyes, before the man repeated himself, “the Cloak of Levitation. And you really shouldn’t be moving around.”
Tony ignored the admonishment, this time managing to move himself a little further up the bed, though not without pain. “Right. Because levitating cloaks are apparently a thing.” He gave the man a once over. “What are you, a magician? Cause if not, I’ve got tips.”
He could almost hear the way the man was gritting his teeth. “A sorcerer, douchebag.”
Tony sighed, running a heavily bandaged hand through his hair, grimacing at the snarls that caught in the fabric of the bandage. “I suppose you’re the one I’m supposed to thank for saving my life.” To think he owed his life to magic… it was not a comforting thought. But a part of him had already known, somehow. No jet would have gotten him to New York in time to save his life, after all.
The sorcerer sneered. “I’m already regretting it.”
Was it sad that that response didn’t even phase him? Of course the man regretted it. Who wouldn’t these days? “Why’d you do it, then?” he asked, exhaustion lining his voice.
There was a flash of something in the sorcerer’s eyes. “You were not meant to die,” the sorcerer said finally, and there was something in his tone, something Tony couldn’t quite put into words, but thought might be apology. The sharp contrast between the two reactions was almost enough to make Tony dizzy, but at the same time he couldn’t quite bring himself to care in either direction. “Time itself called for me to stop it. There’s more needed of you.”
The very thought exhausted him, his body—no, his soul—crying out with it. “Well good job, I’m not dead. Thank you, or Time, or whatever.” He shook his head. There was an ache deep in his chest that had nothing to do with a shield to his chest and everything to do with years of trying to carry the world on his shoulders. “But whatever you need you’ll have to find someone else. I’m done. Should have just left me to die in that bunker.”
There was a flash of what Tony thought was anger as the man opened his mouth, no doubt to snap something sharp and cruel. At the last second he paused. “You might not get a choice,” he said, almost, but not quite, gentle.
“There’s always a choice.”
The sorcerer moved towards his bed, resting a shaking hand on his shoulder, his hand warm even through Tony’s hospital gown. “Not for men like us.” The words seemed to cause the ache in Tony’s chest to pulse, as though reminding him of the rewards for the last time he’d felt like he didn’t have a choice. He had thought that he needed to protect the Avengers, needed to protect Steve, that he simply couldn’t leave them to Ross and their own choices.
He knew better now.
“Don’t know if I’m still that man. Think he died in that bunker,” he admitted. And sweet science, he didn’t know why he was telling a stranger that, even if that stranger had saved him.
“I don’t think so,” the sorcerer said quietly, a too-knowing look in his eyes. “You might be broken, but you’re not defeated.”
He felt defeated. Felt beaten, and not just literally. “‘Cause you’d know so well.”
The sorcerer shrugged. “I’ve looked defeat in the mirror. Only a miracle changed that. I know defeated when I see it.” He leaned closer. “I don’t see it in you.”
Then what did he see? Something Tony himself didn’t, that was for sure. Tony found his mouth dry, no retort making it to his lips. What did he see in Tony? The question revolved in his mind, demanding an answer while at the same time he found that he couldn’t put the question into words. He didn’t know what answer he wanted.
The sorcerer kept his gaze for a long moment, before nodding to himself as he turned away, taking several steps away. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, Doctor Stark.” He paused, turning back for a moment. There was something like regret in his eyes, something like apology. “I should not have said I regretted saving your life. No life saved, no matter how annoying—“ the words were said with a wince, as though he wished he could take the initial insult back, ”—should ever be regretted.”
Tony had no good response for that, especially not when he could sense that the apology—no matter how poorly worded it was—was genuine, the words catching on his tongue. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said finally.
The man paused, as though considering whether or not to answer him. “Doctor Stephen Strange.” He lifted his hands, twisting one in a circle.
Tony stared as gold flame flickered into view, widening until it seemed to create a hole in space, a different place entirely visible through the portal.
Two of his least favorite things—magic and portals—all in one. It made Tony want to shudder and push himself away, but he was too tired for even that reaction.
The man stepped into the portal.
“Thank you, Doctor Strange.” He wasn’t fully sure it was true, wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be alive here, but there was no changing the fact that he was.
Something in Doctor Strange’s eyes said he understood entirely, and it managed to look more like care than like pity. “You’re welcome.” A moment later the portal closed and Strange was gone.
“You know, when you said that we’d see each other again, I wasn’t expecting another hospital visit.” He blinked blearily at his visitor sitting in the chair beside his bed. The room was dim, the lights out. A glance at the clock on the wall showed that it was past visiting hours.
Strange jerked a little bit, as though he hadn’t expected to actually be caught standing vigil beside Tony’s bed. Clearly he hadn’t realized that Tony had woken up. The cloak flared back a little, and it took Tony a second to realize that the cloak had been holding his hand. Part of him felt as though that whole phenomenon must have been a hallucination caused by the pain meds, but to his dismay, he was fairly certain that, no, that was real.
For a second Strange looked almost unsure, though it was difficult to tell for certain. Strange did not seem like the sort of person who showed all that much when it came to anything considered weakness. “I wanted to ensure that you were well.”
Tony barely held in his snort of disbelief. “What, you and Time need me for something?”
Strange shook his head, then paused. “Well, at least not anytime soon, I don’t think.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing here?” Tony asked, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his tone.
Strange winced a little. “Habit, I suppose. It feels wrong to not know how one of my patients is doing.”
“Not your patient,” Tony pointed out. “Something tells me they don’t let sorcerers do surgery.” His chest was more artificial than not at this point, with all of the surgeries he’d been through. Apparently he’d been on the operating table almost fourteen hours this time.
“I saved your life,” Strange pointed out wryly. “It might not have been through surgery, but that doesn’t make it any less true. As a doctor it makes me feel… involved.”
Tony paused, considering, remembering that burn of green behind his eyelids. “You did more than just bring me here, didn’t you?”
Strange looked away, lips thinning a little, and Tony felt his heart twist at what was clearly acknowledgment. Strange had used magic on him.
“If it had been anything less than your life at stake, had you been in any shape coherent enough to get permission, I would have asked for your consent,” Strange said quietly. “But you were as good as dead and that wasn’t an option available to me. As it was, I put you into a sort of time bubble, a stasis of sorts, to keep you from worsening during transport and until I could get Christine to you.” Tony considered his fingers that the doctors had admitted were far better off than they had feared, leaving Tony with no permanent injury, and wondered if that was all that Strange had done.
He didn’t ask.
“Christine,” Tony repeated. “That’s Doctor Palmer, then?”
Strange nodded. “We were colleagues, back when I was still a practicing doctor.”
Tony considered that and considered what very, very little he knew of Strange. “More than just colleagues if you trusted her with all the magic stuff.”
A conflicted look crossed Strange’s face, and Tony was surprised when he actually answered the implied question. “That’s hardly relevant, but yes, we’ve run the whole gamut of relationships, from rivals, to friends, to lovers, and right back to friends. She is a remarkable woman.”
There was a look in Strange’s eyes as he said it that told Tony not to push it any further. “Right. Well, exchange rival for employee and I’ve been there, trying to do that.” He made a face. “Not sure how well the whole transition back to friends thing is going.”
It was another bit of honesty he was surprised to find come out. Perhaps it was a vulnerability for a vulnerability. Or maybe Tony was just tired of trying to look like he had everything under control, and this, at least was so very normal. Sometimes relationships just didn’t work out. That was life. Tony wasn’t immune to it, was just like any other human in that regards.
He was just as human as the rest of the world
“You and Miss Potts?” Strange asked, and he looked like he wasn’t sure why they were having this conversation.
That made two of them.
“She was always too good for me,” Tony admitted quietly. “And I somehow managed to be too much for her and not enough for her all at the same time.” He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts even if he couldn’t quite dismiss the melancholy. “So what’s the verdict, doc.” He nodded to his medical chart. “Am I going to live?”
Strange blinked. “That’s your private medical information,” he said slowly. “I haven’t looked. I’d need your permission for that. Are you giving it to me?”
Tony gave him a long look, trying to determine how honest that was. Part of him was surprised when he realized that he actually believed it was entirely honest. Strange had respected Tony’s privacy—or maybe just HIPAA—enough to not look, even when he’d had full opportunity. “Do you want it?”
It was Strange’s turn to pause, clearly weighing his words. “It would relieve some of my concern if I were allowed to.”
“Well, if it will relieve your concern,” Tony said dryly. “Then go for it.”
Strange stood, moving over to the medical chart. Tony could see his gaze darting over the information with the practiced eye of someone who knew what it all meant.
After a few minutes Strange placed the medical chart back down.
“So, doc. The verdict?”
“Yes, Stark, I dare say you’ll live.” The look Strange gave him was sharp and piercing; Tony was fairly certain that Doctor Strange was the sort who saw far more than most people did. It was not something Tony was strictly comfortable with. “I hope you don’t regret that too much.”
The words were somehow both soft and pointed, and Tony quailed at the thought of what Strange must have seen in his eyes for him to say that.
“No point regretting it. I’m alive. That’s all there is to it.” He just wished that he could bring himself to actually believe his own words. Regardless, Tony would play the cards he’d been dealt. If he was alive, he’d make the most of it.
Strange nodded, turning away from him, his odd cloak fluttering behind him. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
And then with another wave of his hand and a step through a portal, he was gone.
Tony caught Strange visiting him twice more in the hospital, each time far after visiting hours were over and they were deep into the night. He suspected there had been other visits that he hadn’t woken up for, but it would be impossible to know without checking the security feeds.
And then Tony was finally released from the hospital.
It didn’t occur to him until his third day back at the tower—Rhodey was about to be released back to the compound and Tony couldn’t face Rhodey until he had a way to help him—that he didn’t actually know how to find Strange again. It didn’t help that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to find Strange at all. Memories of Strange telling him that Time itself had told Strange that Tony needed to live weighed like a curse on his shoulders.
Something was coming.
But Tony had known that for years, had known something was coming and had only ever made things worse in his attempts to prepare for it. What was he even supposed to do now, when that fear had been confirmed and now he didn’t even have a team to show for it?
So he did what he always did when it felt like he was losing all control of his life: he retreated to his workshop.
Even looking at his armor made him feel sick. The last time he’d been in the armor he’d almost drowned in his own blood; the last time he’d been in his armor he’d had his heart broken, both literally and figuratively.
Instead he dove into medical journals and studies on paralysis, jotting down every idea that came to him.
Rhodey would walk again, if it was the last thing Tony did.
“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice interrupted his manic research spree several days in. “A visitor just appeared in your living room.”
“Who is it?” Tony asked. “And who the hell let them into my living room?”
“No one let them in, boss. They just appeared through some sort of portal that currently defies my sensors abilities to explain.”
Tony’s head jerked up. “Strange.”
“If that’s the descriptor you want to use. Would you like me to call for security?”
Tony shook his head. He’d done his research into Strange during one of his few breaks on researching the best possible methods to help Rhodey. The man had once been one of the best neurosurgeons in the world. That was exactly the sort of expertise that Tony needed.
“Send him down.”
“Boss?” FRIDAY sounded alarmed. “Are you sure?”
Tony snorted at the ridiculous question. “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You are approaching 79 hours of no sleep, boss,” FRIDAY informed him. “Lack of sleep can affect the functional connectivity of prefrontal cortical areas of the brain.”
Tony shrugged. He’d survived a whole lot more than a little lost sleep, and he doubted that Strange was going to be killing him after going to so much effort to keep him alive. “Strange isn’t going to hurt me.” Probably. The chances were high enough that Tony was willing to risk it.
“While it’s true that strange things might not kill you, that doesn’t mean you should seek them out.”
That made Tony stop for a second. “No, Fri, his name is Strange. Doctor Stephen Strange.”
FRIDAY was silent for a moment. “He doesn’t look like a doctor,” she said finally, sounding entirely too judgmental. Oh, he loved his baby girl, she had such good taste. She must have gotten that from Pepper or Rhodey, because she sure hadn’t gotten it from him. “He’s wearing a cape.”
“Cloak,” Tony corrected absently. “It levitates, apparently. Just let him down, Fri.”
He could practically feel FRIDAY’s displeasure with the idea, but it didn’t take long before Strange was stepping into the workshop.
“Great, you’re here. I need your expertise.” He gestured for Strange to hurry it up and get over here already. Strange looked mildly bemused as he moved towards him. The cloak lifted off Strange’s shoulders, floating around the room in a way that reminded Tony a little of U and her constant curiosity. Huh, so that would be the levitation part of ‘the Cloak of Levitation’. How weird. After a moment watching the cloak Tony decided to let it go. The moment Strange was in reach he nearly shoved the tablet containing the variety of ideas and schematics in his face. “My best friend is paralyzed. Surgery’s a no go—“ Strange immediately looked resigned, opening his mouth to say something, Tony didn’t bother waiting for him to actually say anything though. “So it’s up to me to fix it. So speak neuroscience to me.”
An odd look crossed Strange’s face. “You want my expertise… as a neurosurgeon.”
Tony gave him his best ‘no duh’ look. “What else?”
Strange mirrored the look back at him as though Tony was the one being particularly slow. “You don’t expect me to… magically fix it.”
Tony just blinked, trying to compute the words. For some reason he hadn’t even considered that as an option. “No?” he said slowly. “Though, I mean, if you can do that sort of thing, I suppose?”
Strange just stared at him for a long moment. “I can’t,” he said, voice making it sound as though that was obvious. “Not the way people mean, at least.”
“Then why even bring it up?” Tony asked, baffled.
Strange raised an eyebrow. “Most people would look to magic to solve all their problems.”
“Seems dumb,” Tony said easily, before considering the fact that saying that to some sort of wizard was probably rude. But then, he didn’t particularly care if it was rude or not. It was true. He could solve his own problems. No magic required.
The expertise of a neurosurgeon, however, was most definitely wanted. Rhodey was going to be getting nothing but the best from him.
Speaking of, it was time to get them back on track. “So, you were the best of the best, you have to have thoughts, opinions, the expertise to know what will be a no go and what might work.” He wiggled the tablet in Strange’s face. After a moment Strange took it.
“How long has it been since you slept?” he asked, not looking at the information, instead giving Tony an oddly concerned look. “You seem a little manic.”
Tony sighed. “Does it matter? Thoughts, Strange. And this is technically a consult, if that’s what you’re worried about. Charge me whatever you want.”
“I don’t need your money.” Strange’s voice had gone stiff with insult.
What? “It’s a consult,” he repeated, emphasizing the last word. “I’m not just going to use your expertise and not pay you for it. I practice ethical business practices, no matter what some people might tell you. Sweet science. It’s not that complicated.”
Strange closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them again. “How long has it been since you slept?” Strange repeated.
“I don’t know,” he lied, since he did actually know for once. FRIDAY had just told him, after all. But as a doctor, Strange seemed like the type who would get all testy about not getting proper sleep. Which really, ridiculous.
“Boss has been awake for nearly 79 hours,” FRIDAY spoke up. Tony glared up at the ceiling. Since when did FRIDAY decide to work against him to help literal strangers—ha.
Strange raised an eyebrow before glancing down at the tablet. Finally. Strange glanced back up at him. “I’ll make you a deal. You sleep and I’ll look at what you’ve compiled. That’s my consulting fee.”
Tony stared at him, wondering if the man had lost his mind. Did magic do that? Did it make you lose your mind? He was pretty sure there was book out there about something like that. “That’s… not really how it works. You have done consults before, right? Wait, what am I saying? You were the best of the best, of course you’ve done consults. You know that’s not how it works.”
“You said I could charge you whatever I want.” Strange pointed at the couch at the opposite side of the workshop. “So go sleep.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “Fri, I’m not hallucinating this utterly bizarre conversation, am I?”
“Doctor Strange is, indeed, attempting to make you sleep, boss.” FRIDAY sounded far too pleased with the information, and Tony sent a skeptical look to the ceiling. Was that all a person had to do to gain FRIDAY’s approval? Because that seemed like a cause of concern if anyone were to ask Tony. Was this a chink in his security parameters if FRIDAY sided with people just because they showed the slightest care for his well-being?
“The fact that you need to double check that you’re not hallucinating this conversation only proves my point,” Strange said, voice starting to take on an edge. “I would appreciate if you didn’t undo all of my effort and the doctors’ work to keep you alive.”
“I’m checking that it’s not a hallucination because it’s absurd. And it’s a little missed sleep,” Tony grumbled. “I don’t need a nanny, Strange. I can take care of myself.” And normally he did, but this was Rhodey. “Let me make bad decisions if I want to.”
Strange stared at him. “I suddenly have so much more sympathy for Wong,” he muttered under his breath. “If I’m even half as awful as you are, he deserves a medal.” He shook his head. “I’m serious. Sleep.”
Tony narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m also paying you. This isn’t your consulting fee.”
“Fine. Whatever you need to tell yourself to let yourself sleep at night.” Strange paused. “Literally. Sleep. At night.”
Tony snorted. “FRI, take him back up to the living room and get him any information he needs to do his consultation properly.” He paused, remembering the way that Strange had refused to look at his medical chart without permission. “I have Rhodey’s permission to share his medical information at my discretion, FRIDAY, show him that documentation.”
“Got it, Boss.” Outside the lab the elevator doors opened. “If you would come with me, Doctor Strange.”
Tony let him go, wandering over to the couch where DUM-E was quick to pull over one of the blankets. Tony took it, lip quirking up at the numerous grease stains from where DUM-E and U had been using the blanket to make a blanket fort for themselves and had made a mess.
“Thanks, DUM-E.”
He curled up onto the couch, positive that he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep. There was simply too much. Too much to do, too much to worry about, too much to try to figure out.
“I got this,” Tony told himself. He didn’t, but it was nice to hear anyways. He stared up at the ceiling of his lab, smiling when FRIDAY intuitively dimmed the lights.
“You got this, Boss,” FRIDAY agreed.
Yeah, it was nice to hear.