Chapter Text
When Sirius saw the Daily Prophet saying that his traitorous brother was missing he thought very little of it. He had scoffed and muttered under his breath that he hoped the little death eater would drop off the face of the planet and never be seen again. He had thought that it was most likely for him to be hiding out somewhere, probably completing some important, evil task for his precious Dark Lord.
And if he felt some small flicker of emotion that was not contempt or disgust then that was nobody’s business. And if he had felt a tiny prick of worry or fear for his little brother then that emotion was most definitely shoved to place in the back of his mind. A place where he put the things that he would not allow himself to think or feel, a place from where nothing ever returned, a place that was getting concerningly full, but that fact was also compressed and shoved to the back of his mind to not be thought about.
Remus and James had gently checked in with him that day, they were fully aware of his complicated relationship and emotions towards his brother, they had seen it in the form of tears dripping down his cheeks in the middle of the night. In the form of much needed, tight hugs and whispered confessions, in soft words and shared memories, in the way they told him that his whole face softened when he talked about him. They had also seen it in the form of angry rants and screaming words, shaped like blades, dripping with poison, each of the black brothers aiming for the other’s heart. They had seen it in the way he had renounced him. They had seen it all.
And for that reason they did not seem convinced that Sirius was so unaffected by his brother’s disappearance but they had looked at him, reading his face like it was made of glass, exchanged a look with each other and let it go. Sirius was relieved about this, there weren’t many people who could see through to the back of his mind and even fewer who could get him to acknowledge anything there.
In short, Sirius was not thrown nor upset by his brother’s disappearance, he had absorbed the information, felt the usual disgust and contempt that he held for his brother and went on with his day, forgetting about him in five minutes.
That had been two and a half weeks ago.
Sirius is awake. Not fully, but his mind is awake, even if he couldn’t bear to even entertain the idea of opening his eyes or getting out of bed yet. After Sirius manages to finally pull together the mental and physical strength needed to start moving, he rolls over to face Moony and cracks his eyes open.
Remus is sitting up in bed with a book in his lap and a reading light on his bedside table casting an orange glow over him, it catches strands in his cloud like hair, making a few of them glow a beautiful mix between bronze and gold, like Rumpelstiltskin himself had spun them and attached them to Remus’ scalp. The light and the morning laziness that clings to him softens his features, making him look innocent, gentle and open, but the thing that the glow of his reading lamp highlights the most is his eyes. They are incandescent, making Sirius think of amber jewels and honey, bonfires, oranges and the slightest hint of chocolate brown hidden in them.
Sirius could stare at Moony’s eyes for hours. Finding something new every minute, never getting bored and never wanting to look away.
“You’re staring,” Remus says, a small smile appearing on his face, even as his eyes do not budge from the book that remains in his lap. “Can you blame me?” Sirius asks, stretching his arms above his head and hearing his joints crack but not moving his gaze one inch. Whenever he has his eyes on Remus he never wants to move them away, he’s like a magnet, and Sirius can never help but be drawn to him.
Remus’ eyes slide over to Sirius at his words, his smile become both bigger and softer once he catches sight of him. Sirius revels in the attention and the fact that Remus’ eyes, the most beautiful on the planet, are looking at him. “I suppose not.” Moony says, his gentle smile twisting into a playful one that is halfway to a smirk.
“Careful,” Sirius remarks at that “You’ll end up with an ego bigger than mine.” Remus lets out a small chuckle at that, putting his book to the side and leaning down closer to Sirius “Impossible, you have the biggest ego I’ve ever seen.” He murmurs before connecting their lips to kiss away the pout that Sirius was starting to make.
Sirius thinks then, that he is lucky, that he has all this, lazy morning kisses, a cozy apartment, his friends, his life, but most importantly, he has his Moony, and as long as he has him he will never need anything else.
Once they have both gotten up and dressed, shaking away the sleep that clung to their bodies and rubbing away the sleep that stuck in their eyes, Remus starts on breakfast while Sirius watches, taking occasional sips of coffee from the mug in front of him, sitting at the little island table behind the oven. He is not allowed around the island table as he once started a fire whilst trying to boil water to make pasta, as such Remus cooks most of their food, which Sirius is thankful for as he is an amazing cook.
He is currently cracking eggs into the frying pan from which Sirius can already hear the bacon sizzling, he begged Remus for a fry up breakfast, which Remus eventually agreed to but not in exchange for nothing. Which is why Sirius is accompanying him to his favourite bookstore later today. Not that Sirius minds, he loves seeing Moony where is happy, at home and completely in his element, he finds it so special to be privy to somewhere and something that Remus holds so close to his heart.
His thought of Remus are sadly interrupted when he hears the clatter and thud of the Daily Prophet arriving, he tenses a little, in the midst of a war he has seen too many deaths displayed in the Daily Prophet and he reads reading it every time. In case he flips to page 12 where the deaths are written and sees a name he recognises.
Nevertheless it is best he gets it over with, “I’ll get it.” he tells Remus, to which he gets back a hum as his focus is centred around flipping the bacon so that it is evenly roasted.
Sirius walks to the door, dread filling his mind and the worst possible scenarios running rampant in his mind, he can feel his fingers tightening around his mug, the solid, warm object in his hands comforts him a little, tethers him to the real world, so that he doesn’t get lost in the horrors his mind is showcasing. He shoves his thoughts away, focusing on the real world, through the sounds.
He can hear the traffic from the muggles outside driving around, he wants to shudder at the thought, being awake at this time was already a stretch, being outside and driving around already? Sirius could never. He can also hear the sizzling of the bacon and eggs, as well as the pop of the toaster. Sirius had always preferred the grill and insulted the toaster any chance he got, Moony always defended it though and it had become a long standing inside joke just between the two of them.
He reaches the door and picks up the Daily Prophet, keeping a careful eye on his coffee as the number of times he has spilt it while while doing exactly this is much too high for reason. Having successfully picked up the Daily Prophet and kept all his coffee inside the mug, he turns around to go back to the kitchen and eat one of the most delicious fry ups he will have ever had in his life.
And then the headline catches his eye.
And everything stops.
He can’t hear Remus cooking, the sounds outside vanish, his mind freezes in sync with his body, his entire world narrows down to the headline, like some kind of tunnel vision.
LORD OF THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK PRESUMED DEAD
Dead.
His little baby brother is dead.
The brother he had raised, had loved more than anything. The brother that had snuck into his room when he had a nightmare and didn’t want to sleep on his own. The brother who had helped him after his punishments, who had researched and learnt advanced healing spells when he was 12 years old to help him. The brother who had offered up laughter and smile with reckless abandon, who had seen the beauty in everything and managed to capture it in poems.
The brother who had looked at him with cold eyes, telling him that he hated him. The brother who had told him he was a disgrace to their family name, the brother who had followed every one of their parents orders like a spineless sheep. The brother who had gotten the Dark Mark, who had pledged loyalty to cruel murderer and pureblood supremacist. The brother who had tortured and killed innocent people.
The brother who he had pushed away, who pulled away from him and who he had watched as he grew cold and closed off, no longer smiling like there was something to smile about. The brother he had watched making the wrong decisions and yet not been able to stop him. Not been able to save him. The brother he had left, the brother he had failed.
Dead.
No longer breathing, no longer thinking with his sharp curious mind. No longer observing the world with those fucking eyes that never gave anything away.
His brother lives only in his memories now. And Sirius doesn’t even have that many good ones.
It hurts.
In the centre of his right foot. No. That isn’t emotional pain. Even though there is plenty of that too. It’s physical pain. He had dropped his mug, Sirius realises, it had shattered on the floor, a piece of it is embedded in his foot. It doesn’t hurt much, he isn’t connected enough to his body to be fully aware of the pain.
He wonders if Regulus had been in pain when he died.
Most likely.
He wonders if he had been scared.
Probably.
He wonders if he had thought of Sirius.
No. He wouldn’t’ve
It hurts.
The idea that Regulus had been in pain, that he had been scared and that Sirius hadn’t been there for him. To comfort him or to wipe away his tears, to hold him and whisper sweet nothings nothings in his ear, to make promises he had already broken, to protect him.
It hurts more than anything Sirius had ever felt in his life.
Moony is in front him, he realises.
How long has he been there?
He has his hands on Sirius’ shoulders and he is talking. But Sirius can’t hear him.
He can see him, although it is distorted, like looking at a picture that was moving when it was taken or through smudged glass, he can see Remus enough to see that he looks scared. Sirius hates making Remus scared.
He knows that he must be a scary sight, heart beating widely, enough that their neighbours can probably hear it, he is shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, his breaths coming out in short gasps, but his face completely dead. His body is reacting to the extreme emotions he is feeling but his his mind is running away and hiding itself, trying to disappear.
But he doesn’t know how to stop it.
His thoughts are a mess, a thousand jigsaw puzzle pieces that do not fit together and make no sense, he feels disconnected to his body. One small part of his brain registers that he is still holding the Daily Prophet, he realises that he has scrunched it up when his hands became fists, when did they do that?
He fights through the tornado of shattered glass that is his mind and presses the Daily Prophet into Remus’ chest.
Remus grabs it, desperation and panic showing in every one of his movements and looks at the first page, too many emotions to count cross his face, sadness prominent.
At that Sirius blacks out, his body carries on but his mind had hidden itself away as a grief coping mechanism. When he comes back he can’t fully remember what happened, but he remembers parts. He remembers Remus leading him over to the sofa and helping him sit down. He remembers him removing the piece of ceramic from his foot but he was so far from his mind he felt no pain, no physical pain anyway. He remembers Remus fetching him a glass of water and wisely putting it on the table as his hands were shaking too much to even consider holding anything.
Now, he is leaning against Moony, who has his arms around him and is just holding him. Remus has seen Sirius have episodes like this sometimes before and he knows that there is no way to just bring him back, it has to be waited out. So that’s what he did, every time, no matter how long it took.
Sirius knows that Remus is aware that he is no longer having his strange mix of a panic attack and a dissociative episode, he hasn’t moved or spoken though, and for that Sirius is grateful, it allows him time to gather his thoughts and set them straight. He learnt a trick for this years ago, before he even went to Hogwarts and would use it sometimes, like untangling a knot, he would grab hold of a thought, follow it to where it went, consider it and then put it to the side, and pick up the next one.
He had always tried to use that technique on his emotions as well but he never could, maybe because sometimes emotions were random and unreasonable, they were not connected to logic or reason so he could not follow them like a string.
Once his mind was in order he takes a deep breath, partly because it helps him and partly because it lets Moony know that he’s ready to talk.
As soon as he hears Sirius take a breath Remus pulls away slightly, and he looks Sirius dead in the eye scouring his expression with fear flickering in his eyes like a lit match in the wind. “Are you okay?” He asks, his voice soft and slow, comforting. Sirius takes a second to answer, he knows Remus likes him to fully consider the question instead of brushing it off. He checks over himself mentally, there is a dull ache in his foot and his stomach is slightly unsettled, his mind is a little frazzled and he feels on edge and if the back of his mind, where he cages everything he doesn’t want to think, feels like it is bursting at the seams, then it is not acknowledged. He admits the rest to Remus, who while still looking slightly concerned, relaxes a lot more at Sirius’ reassurance.
They sit like that for a while, until Sirius’s foot doesn’t hurt, until his stomach calms down and until he relaxes too. But the pounding and screaming at the back of Sirius’s mind never lets up.
Once he was doing well enough to move around, Remus insists he eat something and leads him through to the kitchen, depositing two slices of bacon, a fried egg and some buttery brown bread onto his plate. Sirius eats it without complaint, while Remus leans on the tabletop across from him with his arms crossed and his forearms holding him up. Sirius can feel his eyes on him while he eats but doesn’t mention it, if he’s honest, some part of him is still astounded that Moony loves him, lives with him, cares about him and looks after him, he feels as though it is Moony’s obvious care and concern that makes him feel better, not the food.
Once the food on Sirius’ plate is gone and the silence could no longer be filled by the sound of chewing and cutlery clicking against ceramic he looks up, meeting Remus’ eyes and saying softly “Go on, ask.” Remus hesitates, Sirius can tell that he isn’t second guessing what he wants to say but more thinking through how to say it, in the end he settles on “Do you need to talk?” That confuses Sirius a little.
“What would I need to talk about?” Remus pauses, his eyes widening just a little in surprise and Sirius can see the concern evident in his expression. “Sirius…” he starts “Your brother is dead.”
“Presumed,” Sirius corrects “And better if he is really, one less death eater to worry about, plus he had it coming, he made his choice.” The next pause Remus takes is the longest one so far.
“Pads, do you really not feel sad about his death? When you saw the Daily Prophet you broke down, I haven’t seen you that since before you left.”
Sirius brushes his point aside “It was just the shock Moony, Regulus has always been a snake, I expected him to run as soon as things got hard. And no” his voice grew colder, crueler and more detached “I do not feel sad about the death of a death eater, it has been a long time coming and was no one’s fault but his.”
The pounding in the back of his head is getting louder, it’s starting to get on Sirius’ nerves
“Even if what you’re saying is true, it doesn’t matter if he was a death eater, he was still your little brother, you guys had a complicated relationship but he meant a lot to you. It would be completely understandable to grieve him.”
Remus won’t stop pushing, the pounding in the back of his head won’t stop, his mind is tying itself in knots again and Sirius snaps.
“I did grieve him!” Pushing his chair back and standing as he yells. “I lost my little brother a long time ago and I have already grieved him. I already lost Reggie, he died a long time ago and he was good! He was my little brother, he deserved to be grieved and he was. Regulus died today, he was a snake, a death eater and a murderer, and he was a bad person who will not be missed. The world is a better place without him and he does not deserve to be grieved. So do not tell me to grieve my brother because I have already grieved the Reggie I lost but I will not grieve the Regulus who died.”
It’s quiet after he says that, Remus doesn’t talk, nor does Sirius, even the muggle cars have stopped their noise to listen to Sirius’ confession. But he doesn’t care about any of that, because his head is quiet too, the pounding has stopped, his caged thoughts and emotions satisfied that he has let even a tiny fraction of them out.
“Sirius…” Remus tries, but he shakes his head, and Remus stops. The air around them feels like it carries the weight of his admission and is tainted by it, it’s horrible and Sirius can’t stand to breathe it in for even one more second.
“I need some fresh air,” his voice is so quiet it is almost a whisper, what a contrast to the harsh words he had just screamed “I’ll be back tonight.” For as much as he is annoyed at Remus for pushing, there is a war going on and it is safer to tell him when he’ll be back. Sirius also doesn’t want Remus to be scared for him, he hates when Remus is scared.
Remus nods and with not another word spoken, Sirius walks to the door, the air in their flat is not losing its weight, if anything it is getting worse by the second, he feels like the air is becoming solid, he is trying to force it down his throat to breathe, but he can’t.
It occurs to him then, he hasn’t said that out loud in a long time, Reggie. He hasn’t called his brother that in years, but he did, just now. And now it is not the air he is choking on any more, but an old nickname tied to the person he loves more than anyone, there are so many undealt with emotions hidden in that name and they are lodged in his throat, desperate to escape, but Sirius will not let them.
He grabs his house keys as he goes, the cold metal bites into his palm, but it’s nice, it grounds and comforts him as he steps out of the apartment, closing the door softly behind him.
Sirius wanders around, taking random turns and going down streets he has never seen before. There are people in these houses he thinks, people who have no idea what he has just gone through, no idea that his world has just shattered, maybe some of the people in those houses are having a good day. Selfishly Sirius wishes they aren’t, how is it fair that his world has just fallen apart and everyone else can just carry on, not even knowing.
He suddenly has the urge to just run, just start flat out sprinting, to push himself faster and further, to run until his face is red, his lungs are on fire and his breaths are coming out in short gasps, to run until he has no idea where he is. He wants to run away from his problems, to use his legs as an outlet, to run until every thought in his head has vanished, until he is too tired to possibly run anymore, and then to keep running anyway.
Sirius is craving somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that has no memories, happy or sad attached to it. Then he changes his mind, he wants somewhere familiar, somewhere comforting, somewhere he knows like the back of his hand. Then he changes his mind again, his thoughts as quick and random as the beating of a butterflies’ wings. Sirius wants both, he wants somewhere that is nostalgic, that he doesn’t go to anymore but used to mean the world to him, he doesn’t care where he goes, he just wants to escape his problems, where no one can find him, just for a little while.
He ducks into a small get well kept alley and pulls his wand out, he knows it is dangerous to apparate without a specific place in mind yet he can’t quite bring himself to care. Take me away he tells his wand, I wish you could take me to the one person I wish I could see but you can’t, they’re dead, so take me away, I don’t care, take me anywhere.
His magic complies, taking him away from the alley and leaving him somewhere else, thankfully he hasn’t splinted himself. Sirius opens his eyes to see where he is and they promptly fill with tears.
He is standing in a disused muggle playground.
It’s their playground.
When he and Regulus were young and both their parents were busy, Walburga would let Kreacher take them to the muggle playground a few streets away, she had cast strong muggle repelling charms on it as she believed that neither of them should be allowed to interact with anyone who wasn’t a pureblood, let alone someone who didn’t even have magic at all.
Kreacher would sit on the side and watch them, giving them as much space and privacy as he could, Regulus had always tried to get him to play with them, but Kreacher had always declined telling him that their mother would most certainly not permit her children to play with a house-elf.
Regulus had been sad whenever Kreacher said that, but Sirius had always found a way to cheer him up.
He remembers them playing on the swings pushing each other as high as they could even if they weren’t strong enough for that to be very high. They would throw themselves down the slide shrieking, they would climb up the miniature climbing walls, their small arms stretching to try and reach the holds and would spin on the spinning cups until they couldn’t even walk straight.
He remembers the last time they had ever gone to the playground, they had been lying down on the black tarmac side by side, the tarmac had been boiling hot from soaking up the sun all day, but neither of them had cared. They hadn’t been saying much, simply leaving each other to their thoughts and enjoying the company when Regulus had broken the silence and said “Mother told Kreacher he’s not allowed to bring us here any more.” Sirius remembers how he had rolled over to look at him, confused, Walburga hadn’t said anything to him, “Why?” he asked, Regulus’ eyes which had been fixed to the sky, flicked over to him, big and sad, “Mother said we can’t have anything to do with muggles anymore, that they’re useless and good for nothing but-“ he breaks himself off looking around nervously and biting his lip.
“You can tell me Reggie, I won’t tell Mother.” Sirius reassured him.
“I know.” Regulus had said, his unwavering trust in his brother evident, as he looked around once more, then leaned closer and whispered to Sirius, “I don’t agree with Mother, I love it here and muggles made this place to bring joy to kids, like us, I don’t think they’re useless, I think they’re great.”
Sirius had hugged his brother at that, even at that age he knew how scary and dangerous it was to disagree with their mother and how important it had been to never do it. He knew how brave Regulus had been to not only disagree with Walburga but also admit it to Sirius, at the time he had been filled with pride and respect for his brother. Now he just feels disappointed in them both.
He remembers after the confession, they had gone over to the climbing frame in the middle of the playground with the slides and other fun stuff attached to it, there was a compass rose on one of the little safety walls, it was made so you could spin the bit with North, South, East and West on it and also spin the star in opposite directions. Sirius had grabbed a small stone that had been lying around and unscrewed the star, he and Regulus had scratched their initials with the rock underneath the star.
There was definitely something poetic there but Sirius couldn’t sum it up, Regulus had always been better at that.
Sirius knows that it is going to hurt, but can’t very well, not go and look at their initials can he. He walks over to the compass rose, he is shaking slightly, and tears are pouring down his face, though he makes no effort to stop them. He unscrews the star and he sees his initials first, different from when they had first been written, S.B.P. A few days after Sirius had left he had been struck by a sudden fit of rage that Regulus had refused to leave with him, he gone back to their playground that had started to fall into disuse duet to the muggle-repelling charms Walburga had never bothered to remove. He had crossed out the B, and replaced it with a P, for Potter. He remembers how he had hoped through a haze of anger that Regulus would somehow see it and know that he was ashamed to have ever been part of the same family as him, and that he had disowned him, and everyone in the black family tree.
He regrets that message now.
He knew that his initials would look like that, what he was not expecting however was what Regulus’ initials looked like, R.B. the B in his name was scratched out so much that you could barely tell what letter had been there before. It looked like someone had just attacked it, scouring and scribbling through it like they were desperate for it to disappear.
It must have been Regulus, no one else knew about it.
Seeing it releases a fresh wave of tears, Sirius is sobbing and gasping for air, had his brother renounced the family like he had, but then why hadn’t he come to him, why had he followed Voldemort, why had he got the dark mark, why had he willingly been the heir that Sirius had been expected to be?
So many questions, so few answers.
Sirius doesn’t know what to believe anymore. His world shattered when Regulus died, and now the pieces have changed and they won’t fit together the way they used to, nothing fits anymore, nothing makes sense.
So he goes back to the only person who has always made everything make sense.
Sirius apparates outside the door of the flat, he needs a minute to just breathe, gather his thoughts, think about what he’s going to do next and wipe his tears, even though he knows it will be obvious that he’s been crying. He knows that Remus will have called James and they will both probably be inside waiting for him. He appreciates that, somehow knowing that there are two people who care about him, who want him to be okay are on the other side of the door makes it easier to think about walking through it.
He puts his key in the lock but hesitates before unlocking the door, he knows that Remus won’t be mad at him for yelling or for walking out, he knows that he will understand that he needed it. But it doesn’t stop Sirius for feeling slightly guilty, he knows that Remus will have worried about him.
Sirius decides that even if Moony isn’t angry at him, he will still apologise, to ease his conscience, and just in case Remus is a little annoyed. He also decides that he is going to talk about it, all his feelings, maybe it will help him understand them more, and why he is feeling them.
He takes a deep breath and turns the key, kicking the bottom of the door at the same time in a practiced motion, it always gets stuck there, he used to struggle kicking it in the right place to get it open, but now it’s become second nature.
As soon as he steps into the room, he catches the slightest bit of conversation before it stops, he can’t tell what they were talking about, just that they were talking, although he guesses it was about him.
The front door of the apartment opens directly into the lounge area, they have a tv to Sirius’ right and windows and sofas to his left, Remus and James are sitting on those, he can feel their eyes on him but doesn’t look back at them. Instead he bends down and takes off his shoes, leaving them on the rack next to the door, before walking straight through to the kitchen. The apartment has an open floor plan, with a wide opening between the kitchen and lounge instead of a door, the kitchen is made in the shape of a square bracket, sink to the left, oven in the middle, fridge to the the right, and an island table in front of the oven.
Sirius grabs a glass from one of the cupboards and fills it up from the sink, he can practically sense Remus and James communicating through looks in the other room. He didn’t mean to be hostile or rude, he just really wanted some water, and it felt too awkward to walk in the apartment and suddenly start talking, that doesn’t really make sense, he thinks.
He is broken from his thoughts by Remus and James walking into the kitchen and standing by the table, giving him some space but showing him that they are there, he loves them so much for that. Before he can lose his nerve he spins around, looks at Remus and blurts out “I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning,” Remus blinks, looking a little surprised, “and I’m sorry for running off, and worrying you, you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t’ve-“
“Sirius,” Remus cuts in, walking over to stand next to him and taking Sirius’ hands in his own, “you have absolutely nothing to apologise for, you are going through something that is hard for you and any way you deal with it is completely fine, so you do not need to apologise for anything okay?”
Sirius nods, he can feel more tears starting to well in his eyes again at Moony’s words, how on earth did he get so lucky to have someone as incredible as Remus Lupin. Remus pulls him into a hug, holding him firmly but with so much care that Sirius’ heart swells, he manages to croak out “Thank you, Moony.”, his voice hoarse from the tears that have started to slowly roll down his face again. “Anytime.” Remus replies and Sirius knows that he genuinely means that, he will always be there for Sirius, whatever he needs and whenever he needs him.
He spots James over Remus’ shoulder, he looks a little bit awkward but also happy that his friend is getting the support and love that he needs, and unwilling to interrupt their moment. Sirius laughs wetly, “Come here Prongs.”, and James wastes no time joining the hug, wrapping his arms around Sirius, it’s nice, knowing that they both care about him and will comfort him when he’s sad without judging him at all.
In that moment Sirius realises, even if he has all the love and support in the world, his brother is presumed dead, Sirius will not be able to move on unless the knows for sure. There is no concrete evidence whether he alive or dead, he could be alive, and if he is, Sirius is going to find him, if he is not, Sirius will accept that and learn to live with it. But he cannot simply carry on through life without knowing for sure if his brother is dead or alive, he needs to know, he needs the closure. He won’t tell anyone else his plan, he feels guilty for that but they would try to dissuade him and he might listen to them, but he knows he will always wonder if he doesn’t know, and he can’t live like that.
Sirius makes a promise to himself, he will find his brother, dead or alive.