wheatear: (mmm point)
[personal profile] wheatear
Title: What Happened in New Orleans
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (TV series)
Characters/Pairings: Elijah/Elena, Katherine
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Death, violence, dark themes
Summary: The secret is out. Thanks to Katherine, all but one of the Originals are dead, and the hunters are closing in. Nothing seems to rouse Elijah from his grief-stricken stupor. Until another doppelgänger appears. Elijah/Elena. Season 4 AU.


Dear Diary,

Louis learned a new word today. He pointed at a picture on the news and said, “Vam.” I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. Yes, I told him. Vampire. Bad vampire. They bite. Mommy used to have a mommy and daddy too, once. Until the vampires got them.

I could maybe have omitted that last part. But he has to learn. I won’t lie to him. I won’t pretend like the world’s an okay place when it’s not. I’m pretty sure we don’t have any vampires here in Hawaii, but you never know. We stay in at night just in case. I don’t let Louis out of my sight until he’s tucked up in bed. Even then, I worry.

Am I always going to be this worried about him? Nothing has happened. But I feel like if I let my guard down for even a second, something might. Don’t take any chances. I’m living constantly on edge. It’s exhausting.

2. Crusade

The irony of it was infuriating enough. Elena Gilbert, the girl who had once represented the pinnacle of humanity, that defiant spirit, had given up the ghost two years ago when she had abandoned her emotions in favour of not giving a shit about anything, to put it bluntly. That Elena Gilbert had come here to stop him giving up.

And Lucia had thought this was a good idea?

It was mad and desperate.

“Well,” he said, settling back into his seat. “I await your tender loving care.”

“Nice try.” She rapped the arm of his chair. “Get up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get up,” she repeated. “You did it before, I was there. You’re not glued to your seat.”

Oh, she was hilarious. Perhaps for a fleeting moment he had been glad to see her, after the shock had worn off. Elena Gilbert alive, something he had not dared hope, would not have dared to even contemplate for it was as impossible as the hope that his sister might return, that Klaus might be alive, Kol–


He couldn’t look at her. How was it that she survived while his sister had not? How could there be not one, but two doppelgängers here to torment him in this world, while everything else around him crumbled away?


She clicked her fingers an inch from his nose, leaning in even closer. He met her eyes and focused, but even if she wasn’t taking vervain, he was in no state to compel anyone.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Look at you,” she said. “You’re weak. Lost. You’ve let your emotions get the best of you.”

“I’m not like you. I can’t turn off my emotions.”

“That’s funny,” said Elena. “You always seemed so good at it.”

Her casual, mocking tone got to him. The muscles in his face tightened, eyes narrowing imperceptibly. In a moment he had slammed her against the wall, hand curled around her throat. A china figurine on the mantelpiece wobbled and fell off.

“There we go,” Elijah hissed. “Fear. You see, emotions are a difficult thing to suppress.”

She was looking at him with wide eyes, and yes, there had been a momentary stab of both fear and shock. He had pinned her easily, despite being starving. The sudden burst of energy had taken more out of him than he liked to admit, but he controlled his breathing, and though Elena’s hands flew up to try and stop him, she couldn’t prise away his grip.

“I have half a dozen vampires guarding me at any one time,” Elijah continued softly. “Fear rules every one of them. I care not one whit about their miserable lives. Why should I save them?”

“You care about me. Don’t you?”

His hand dropped from her throat. Elena didn’t try to get free. Her expression was deceptively mild, those beautiful eyes gazing at him, neither challenging nor fearful. He could hardly deny her statement. It had been an unspoken part of their relationship well before she became a vampire.

He stepped away, over the china figurine, and his voice turned cold.

“You played a part in the death of at least one of my brothers. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry that Kol tried to kill my brother. I’m so sorry that I fought to protect him. You’re not the only one who lost their entire family, Elijah. Get over yourself.”

The truth was an unforgiving mistress. Elijah flinched.

“That was unfair. I know our families were at mutual odds…”

“And now they’re all dead and we both get to be eternally alone. Wow. It’s almost like we have a connection.”

Her words were a knife, cutting out the part of his heart he had reserved for Elena Gilbert. It was crushing.

He swallowed. “If this is your attempt at a pep talk, it’s not working.”

Elena shook her head. “You don’t get a pep talk. I’m telling you to man up. So you lost your family, so what? Don’t play the loss card. You know you’ve caused more pain than you’ve suffered. I don’t care about your suffering. All I care about is living to see another day. The same goes for all the vampires. They need you to survive. I need you. So you need to stand up and find something to live for, because none of us are giving up.”

There was a pause.

“Well, I understand why they brought you here,” said Elijah finally. “They think you might do the trick.”

He was exhausted: she had managed to wring more emotions out of him in minutes than he had felt in weeks. Most of the vampires charged with his care were far too scared of him to attempt anything like Elena’s brazen tactics. Not surprising really, since he had killed more than one of them. Elena obviously wasn’t worried about that.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, they both heard the quiet knock at the door and then the creak as it opened a fraction.

Dario, one of his guards, looked in on them. “We need to move again, my lord.”

Oh, blessed interruption. He was so relieved he didn’t protest.

“We’ll be with you in a moment.”

The vampire disappeared.

Elena raised an eyebrow. “My lord?”

“He’s three hundred and fifty years old. In those days, vampires knew their place.”

“And you probably sounded just as pompous back then too.” She shook her head, holding out her hand with a smile. She even wriggled her fingers to encourage him. “Come on. You agreed to go. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

He had. His first mistake.

“Fine,” said Elijah. “But on my terms.”

She said nothing, only smiled. He took that as agreement.


Elijah saw it happen.

Klaus, wordless, bloodless, unable even to scream as his dried-out corpse was set alight. He watched his brother’s body turn to ashes.

He might have screamed. He wasn’t sure.

“Hold him.”

A witch’s voice, strong and clear. Sophie Deveraux.

She had lured him here. Made false promises. Plans to overthrow the vampire that ruled New Orleans.

He rushed her. Choked. His throat closed up, his limbs faltered. Every witch in the crypt bent her power against him, and Elijah buckled.

Sophie crouched down by the pile of dust that had once been his brother and picked up a stake. She had driven it into Klaus’s heart only minutes before.

“There’s a full moon tonight, Elijah,” said Sophie, advancing on him. “We’re strong enough to take both of you.”

He was held by invisible strings, the colour slowly draining from his skin. He could not speak.

“And so they drank of the poisonous wine…” She carried the stake in both hands. “And the blood that made them would also undo them. First the hybrid. Now the Original.”

She came to a stop in front of him. Raised the stake. It was not the white oak, but any stake could kill him. The witches would ensure his death was permanent. He would join his brothers on the other side.


A flash of blonde hair, a swift strike–

Sophie collapsed with a cry. And there was Rebekah, his sister, tugging at his hand – he could not move but she wrenched, and as the witches surged forward to help their fallen ally, Rebekah pulled him away.

He looked back for a second as they made their escape, before they breathed again in the open night air. Sophie stirring, blood on her temple, the other witches stooping down beside her.

She was alive. She was alive and his brother was dead. Elijah would not forget that.


Elijah came to, blinking, as someone tipped a plastic cup against his mouth. Blood dribbled on to his lips; he licked it automatically and the cup tipped a little further, pouring more into his mouth.

He turned away. “Wait…”

“Drink up,” Elena breathed.

He tried to protest, but her fingers closed around his jaw, tilting his chin up again so that she could feed him the blood. It was rich and sweet and he gulped it down, his senses sharpening with every drop.

They were moving. He could feel the steady pulse of an engine, the clattering of the train tracks. The seats in the carriage were an unattractive blue. They had a table seat: strewn on the table were various items including an empty bagel wrap, sunglasses, tissues, a cell phone, and a juice bottle.

Elena picked up the juice bottle.

“Want some more?”

He took the plastic cup and crumpled it in his hand, tossing it aside on the table. Elena frowned at this impolite display.

“I know you are one of the walking dead, but you don’t have to look like one,” she informed him.

Elijah glanced out of the window. It was dark, and the light inside the carriage meant it was virtually impossible to see anything outside. Elena had the aisle seat, blocking his way to the rest of the carriage. He could hear a few murmurs down the other end, so the carriage wasn’t empty. But he had no idea what was going on.

“Where are we?”

“On the last leg of our journey,” said Elena. “We’re on the Philadelphia Main Line, two stops away from our destination.”

“So we crossed the border.”

“Two days ago. Don’t worry,” she added. “We bought out the whole carriage. Julian figured that was safer than stealing a car. We don’t want the police on our trail already.”

He frowned. “I asked not to be woken.”

She shrugged. “I got bored.”

His plan had been to sleep the entire way there. Exhausted, starving: it was easy to slip into an unconscious slumber. Not rest. Every time he closed his eyes he was plagued by visions of his siblings’ deaths. But that was no more nightmarish than the waking world. At least the coffin shut that out.

“I still can’t believe you travel in that thing,” Elena said.

“Where is it?”

“I had it sent on ahead. You’re not crawling back in there. Even thinking about it gives me the creeps.”

She took a swig from the bottle that he had refused. Elijah winced.

“So I’m stuck with you.”

“Until you snap out of it, yes.”

“This seems a little one-sided.”

“That’s probably because I’m the only one doing anything. I’m making all the effort here. The least you could do is give me a little something in return.”

He sighed.

“Get dressed,” she said. “It’s not hard. Go wash and change. Put on a suit, you look good in them. There’s only so long I can stand to look at your toes.”

He looked down. His feet were still bare. As far as vampires in coffins went, he must not have presented a tremendous sight. The traditional image of the coiffed and sleeping vampire tended to involve a suit jacket and pants at least, perhaps even a cape, neatly starched and preserved. Hands in prayer position. All very regal. Elijah had curled on his side in his slacks and vest; his hair had grown ragged and his scruff was doing its best to become a beard.

And Elena had dragged him out to face the public like this.

“I don’t have my clothes,” he said.

Elena grinned. “No problem. I brought your suitcase.”


The cemeteries of New Orleans had no tombstone for Klaus, no mark of his passing. Nor the hundred other vampires that had died there, the unfortunate spawn of Klaus’s bloodline.

“Burn it,” Elijah said.

With whoops and yells the vampires swarmed into the city, dozens of them, bearing torches, gasoline, explosives – anything that would set the place alight. They tore down every residence, every place where a human might hide safe behind the invitation barrier. They smoked out adults, children, entire families, tore out their throats, feasted, devoured, killed.

Elijah did not stand by and watch. He went first to the bar where Sophie had worked, and when he did not find her there he killed all the patrons and burned it to the ground. He went next to her residence and when he did not find her there either, he burned it too, and drained her flatmate dry.

Rebekah joined him and they scoured the city, looking for witches. He lost count of the number they killed, but Sophie was not among them.

“She’s gone!” an old man told him, when he growled Sophie’s name. “She fled!”

Not one witch would reveal where she had gone, no matter how he threatened them. Elijah’s patience had long since worn out. He snapped the man’s spine and on they moved.

He and Rebekah were both gorged on blood: their eyes were black, their faces smeared with soot, and their fingernails caked with blood. Eventually they stopped feeding and just killed, attacking anything that moved. The city was ransacked, burning; the flames roared higher and higher around them.

By sunrise there were no living people in New Orleans. Only bodies scattered amongst the smoking rubble.

But Sophie was not among them.


The new house wasn’t much different than the old except that it had no basement. Elena insisted that he stay on the second floor, in the lightest, sunniest room, a room with a balcony window and a view of the fields stretching out beyond the yard.

Every day she visited. She didn’t stay. He didn’t know where she was staying.

She always brought him a blood bag, and poured it into wine glasses for both of them to share. If he refused to drink, she didn’t budge. She turned on Coldplay instead, forcing him to listen to the dreary tones of Fix You over and over again. It was torture.

She played the music loud enough for the entire house to hear, twirling around dreamily so that he was simultaneously entranced by the way the sunlight caught her hair and struck by the urge to strangle her with the iPod hanging around her neck.

After that, she insulted him until he got dressed. By the fifth day he was dressed before she arrived, and Elena declared that she didn’t like his tie instead and picked out a different one.

She didn’t press him about his duty to help them or tell him to snap out of it or say any of the things she had said on the first day. Instead she told him about how the people in her life had died. Each day she told him about a different person, and she didn’t tell just the facts, she told it like a story.

“Once upon a time there was a girl called Bonnie Bennett. She was special. She had magic. She died trying to stop a man called Silas from tearing away the veil to the Other Side and unleashing hell on earth…”

“Once upon a time there was a man called Damon Salvatore. He had the misfortune of falling in love with two women who looked exactly alike. One of them rejected him. The other murdered him when she figured out that all he really wanted was a woman who would be what he wanted, and not the person she really was.”

“Once upon a time there was a man called Stefan Salvatore…”

And so on.


They reached nine days with no sign of Elena running out of dead people to tell stories about. He listened with a mixture of despair and a growing sense of guilt. He knew what she was doing. She was reminding him that people suffered all the time. His grief was nothing special, for all that it felt so acute.

He drank the blood bags that she gave him. He shaved. He washed and dressed in the morning. He listened patiently when she talked.

But he was going through the motions, doing what was asked and no more. Perhaps Elena sensed that, for on the tenth day she switched things up.

She didn’t tell him a story. Instead she pulled up her chair closer to his and leaned forward.

“So how are you feeling about my visits so far?” she asked. “Like, no like?”

“Honestly, I’d rather have a bereavement counsellor.”

There was a pause. “Wait, seriously? You haven’t had one?”

“That was a joke,” said Elijah, “and no, I haven’t.”

Elena shook her head. “Are these people dumb? I’ll get you one, and then we can eat her. I think that’ll help you loosen up. And you made a joke! It wasn’t funny, but I’m going to take that as an improvement.”


They ate the bereavement counsellor. It felt good.


“I need you to talk to me,” said Elena afterwards. “I’ve talked to you. Now it’s your turn.”

The bereavement counsellor lay dead on the floor of her office. Elena had taken her seat across from him on the couch.

He was an awful person, Elijah reflected. There were really no words strong enough. “Evil”, perhaps.

“I’ve talked enough,” he said instead.

“Not to me.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

The stain on the office carpet was spreading. Unfortunately the carpet was beige: the cleaners would never get that out. Everything in the office was beige: a soup of coffee and cream designed to soothe distressed clients, combining an air of professionalism with the warmth of a sitting room. Cushions on the sofa, a pot plant, photographs of a tropical beach on the wall. But also a desk and filing cabinet, a group of framed certificates proving just how qualified the dead woman had been.

Elena leaned forward. “Why not?”

“You…” He waved a hand. “You torment me with your face.”

“I can’t help my face.”

“I realize that. But I’m in an emotionally vulnerable position right now as I’m sure you’re well aware, and you not only look like two girls I’ve fallen in love with, you also look like two girls who tried to kill me.”

He had discussed this at great length with the counsellor. Apparently the only thing rivalling his family issues were his doppelgänger issues. He must have been a psychological minefield.

Elena thought for a moment. “I’m in at least one of those camps, aren’t I?”

“There is some overlap.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I intend to take full advantage of my face.”

“Are you always this difficult?”

She shrugged. “You used to like me being difficult.”

“Not always, I promise.”

“Get used to it. That’s all I can say. No one said this would be easy. What did the counsellor say you should do?”

He grimaced. He had been hoping she wouldn’t ask that. “Mourn,” he said. “Acknowledge my loss and take the time I need to grieve before moving on.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

Moving on meant taking action against those who wished to wipe the vampires out. Elena and every single vampire around him had made that abundantly clear. And he had unfinished business: with Katherine, with Sophie. They had destroyed the last of his family.

Elena was watching him carefully. She seemed unmoved, expressionless, her only focus working out whether he meant what he had said. No hint of suffering, though she had told him stories so full of grief. If there was sadness behind her eyes, she hid it well.

“Elena,” he said. “What about your loss?”

Her face was the picture of nonchalance. “What about it?”

“You haven’t faced up to it. You’ve ignored it. You’re asking me to do something you refuse to do yourself.”

She twisted her mouth.

“That’s not the point,” she said. “The point is that I’m in a place where I can function, and you’re not. You’re a mess. It doesn’t matter how we get there, what matters is what needs to be done.”

“Turn it on,” he said.


“Your emotions. Your humanity. Turn it on.”

“No.” She looked incredulous. “Do you want me to turn into a wreck? The switch stays off.”

“Do you want me to care about the fate of these vampires?”

“Oh, no.” She stood up. “You don’t get to do that. Don’t make your recovery contingent on mine. Go back to the house. I’ll be back tomorrow.”


Rebekah did not have a grave either.

When Elena wasn’t there, he stayed in his room. He allowed no other visitors. The vampires in the house stayed away. Sometimes he left the house and walked past the corn fields into the small wood nearby, seeking solitude and silence. He was aware always of the vampire that trailed him, but ignored them.

The dawn chorus greeted him. He walked until the woods swallowed him up.

There he found a solitary pine tree, and crouched down beneath its boughs. The woodland floor was fragrant with pine needles. He pressed his hand softly against the earth, then placed a small urn into the depression he had left.

“Rebekah,” he murmured. “You know, I wanted to apologize. I was too harsh with you, not considerate enough. I think back and I think that my life was one big series of fuck ups. And you paid the price for that. I miss you.”

His voice hitched. He had to pause.

“I wish I could have given you the life that you wanted. I wanted you to be happy.”

He closed his eyes. His hands shook. Sobs racked his body. He poured out his wordless grief, a tidal wave of it, and clutched the urn, seeking something, anything, to hold on to.

“What’s that?”

He looked up. Elena was standing on a mound covered with leaf litter a few feet away, looking down at him curiously.

His skin felt tight. He made an incoherent sound, the muscles in his face straining as he tried to control himself. Elena seemed unfazed; she wasn’t looking at his red-rimmed eyes or tear-stained cheeks; her attention was caught by the urn he was holding.

“Rebekah’s ashes,” she guessed, correctly. “That’s what broke you, isn’t it? Rebekah’s death. More than the rest.”

His jaw unlocked. “Please leave.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets, her breath misting in the early morning air. “I came to tell you something. Are you aware of what’s going on out there?”

“Aware? Yes.”

The hunt had not abated. Rebekah’s death had only rekindled it. He had been shunted around from town to town, country to country, because all the vampires around him were terrified of getting caught. Lucia ensured that he was supervised at all times, while Julian attempted to do the impossible and fight back against an entire world that wanted them dead. They were really just prolonging the inevitable.

“But you don’t know the latest. Katherine’s due to make a statement today.”

He stared. “What?”

“They’re talking about it on the news right now. Come on.”


They were in the sitting room. Someone had brought in an old TV, which they had propped on the coffee table. And on the screen… His mouth tightened. Katherine.

“I was compelled,” she explained. “Vampires can control your mind. That’s how they’ve never been discovered up until now. Klaus made me forget that he’d bitten me. I had to act like everything was normal. I thought I had feelings for him, but I don’t even know if that was real.”

Old footage. They were replaying her first interview. He paused in the doorway, Elena beside him. Katherine had not given a live interview in a studio since her first appearance, but she had her own video channel online which she periodically updated. At least, that had been the state of things three months ago. Rebekah used to watch them obsessively, trying to work out from the light and the timing and the objects in the background where Katherine might be.

“Elijah! Here, take a seat.”

Seven vampires were crowded around the television, four of them on the couch and three of them leaning behind it. One of them was Lucia. It was she who had spoken. She leapt up, cuffing the vampire next to her to make him move and leave space for Elijah.

He inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“Move up,” said Elena, squeezing in next to him. There was some jostling and another vampire lost his seat – Lorenzo – but though he rolled his eyes at Elena, he made no complaint.

“They’ve been replaying the same footage for four hours,” Lucia told them. “Katherine likes to keep us on our toes.” She shook her head. “Hard to believe that she sired me.”

Elijah blinked. “Katherine turned you?”

“She turned Julian,” Lucia replied. Julian had turned her. “Of course, we learned early on that Katerina Petrova has no loyalties to anyone but herself. She wants us dead as much as the rest of you.”

Elena caught his eye, but Elijah looked away. The television was now showing a close-up of Katherine’s face. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce right into him. “If you want to rid the world of vampires, here’s how you do it. Kill the Originals. Kill Elijah. Kill Rebekah. Cut off the head of the snake. Do that, and vampires will finally be gone for good.”

“Bitch!” One of the vampires threw an empty water bottle at the TV, almost knocking the aerial over. The picture crackled and snapped.

Several others booed and hissed.

“Quiet!” Lucia ordered.

The footage cut back to the newsreader. “…And that was Katherine Pierce, speaking a year ago in her first full interview that ripped open the secrets of the vampire underworld. Can I just say again, Clare, how incredibly brave it was of this young woman to speak out, at a time when the United States government and the UN was still officially denying the existence of vampires. I think we all forget now how confused and unclear things were at the time.”

His co-presenter nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Scott. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

“And just a reminder, we don’t know exactly when, but we’re expecting a new statement from Ms Pierce at any moment. You know, I think we all expected to hear from Katherine right after the news about Rebekah. So this announcement is well overdue. I’ll admit I was getting worried, Clare, what about you?”

“No doubt. I was really worried. I think we all feel for Katherine because she’s put herself on the line, you know. She really put herself out there.”

“Right, I mean, every vampire out there’s gotta be gunning for her…”

“You bet we are,” Lucia muttered.

“Do you guys have any idea what she’s going to say?” Elena asked, leaning over Elijah to look at Lucia.

“None at all,” Lucia replied. “We haven’t heard a thing for months except for that one leaked report in New Orleans – and I’m sure that was Sophie. She made that personal.”

Elena was blocking his view; all he could see was half a screen and half dark hair. Her hand was also on his knee. “Elena.”

She leaned back, shrugging. “Well, that’s revenge for you.”

Revenge. This was Katherine’s revenge for everything his family had done to her. Sophie’s revenge for every witch that had died by a vampire’s hand. Humanity’s revenge for a thousand years of bloodshed. Katherine was the face of this crusade. She adorned the screen like a hateful banner.

Meanwhile, the presenters were still filling airtime with pointless commentary.

“The good news is that this report of an announcement today proves that Ms Pierce is definitely alive. It’s what we’ve been saying all along, folks. One more to go.”

The co-presenter joined in, giving her partner a high-five. “One more to go.”

“One” being him, of course. The world’s media had painted a target on his back. More hisses from the peanut gallery.

The presenter’s hand flew up to his earpiece; he interrupted himself mid-flow. “Oh – this is it – we’re about to have a live feed of Katherine Pierce, coming through right now…”

A frisson shivered through the room. Everyone fell silent. Even Elena, who often seemed bored at the mention of her human doppelgänger, watched the screen avidly.

The presenters disappeared. And there she was. Katherine. Not the image of humanity’s struggle, but the real, living, breathing Katherine. A live feed.

He looked for signs of illness or stress, but there were none: she looked as youthful and fresh-faced as ever. Her make-up had been carefully applied to make her look younger and more innocent, more girl-next-door – more Elena, in fact. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders. A plain white screen behind her gave nothing away about her location.

She smiled.

“I know you’ve all been worried about me,” Katherine began. “I want to say first of all thank you for all the well wishes. I’m so grateful for your support. Most people think I’m on the run. That’s true, but it’s not the reason I haven’t released a video in the past five months. The truth is, we have a plan. We’ve been developing it for some time now. What you’re about to hear is the first step of that plan being put into action. So here we go.”

She took a deep breath.

“There’s one Original left. Elijah. I knew him. It’s kind of hard to talk about him because I thought he was kind once, but then he betrayed me, abandoned me, and put a bounty on my head like the rest of his family. I think you know, and I’ve followed the news too, that all the desperate attacks, the massacres, New Orleans – that was him. He engineered it. He wants to scare us into submission.

“Well, I’m not scared. In fact, I have a message for him, for Elijah.” A fractional pause. Her eyes seemed to fill the screen. “Elijah, if you’re watching, and I know you are. Give it up. You’ve lost. You’re a smart guy, for a vampire. I think you know your time is up. And if somehow, somewhere inside you, there’s even the tiniest spark of moral decency, whatever shred of humanity you have left, then that part of you knows the right thing to do.

“New Orleans, the French Quarter, 9pm a week today. Do the right thing. Give yourself up. I’ll be waiting.”

The feed cut off.

There was dead silence.

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