m_findlow

Title: Care factor
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, OC
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 5,510 words
Content notes: Written for Challenge 43 - Nurse at beattheblackdog
Summary: Caring for Jack is a skill held by only a select few.

Jack crossed his arms, trying his best to look angry and petulant.

'This is a terrible idea,' he complained.

'You won't stay at the hospital and we don't have the resources to babysit you at the hub,' Ianto lectured, staring down at him from his spot in their bed. 'However good your healing abilities are, that hip bone is thoroughly shattered and will take at least a week to mend. Owen thinks it'll be closer to two. Besides, the doctors at any hospital would think it's a miracle if you recovered that quick. Unless you'd prefer I put you into an old people's home. They'd be more your vintage.'

'I don't need a babysitter.'

'Oh really? And how are you going to get around? You can't even sit up. Who's going to get you food, and bathe you, and clean up after you? Hmm?'

Jack looked sheepish. 'I kinda thought you were going to stay here and look after me.'

Ianto sighed at the pathetic yet hopeful look on Jack's face. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but Torchwood was hard enough to keep ticking over with the five of them, and that with Jack taking the load of two people. Three of them just simply couldn't do it. Plus, he suspected that after a few days it wouldn't be the pampering and quality time they'd like to spend together, and that they'd be ready to kill each other.

'I'll be here overnight. It's not as if I'm not around.'

'You'll come home to shower and sleep, you mean,' Jack moaned.

'As often as I can,' he promised. 'You know what our hours are like.'

'Where on earth did you find her?'

'She lived on the fifth floor of my old apartment block. We got chatting collecting our post on account that we were the only two in the building who worked odd hours, so we always ran into each other. Greta will be here to look after your every need.'

'Not all of them,' Jack couldn't help but tease.

'Those needs will have to wait until you're mobile again,' Ianto smirked.

'What? Not even a little hand job?'

Ianto shook his head. Jack was utterly impossible. 'Only if you're good. Now,' he said, getting back to business, 'Greta will be here at seven, and she'll stay as late as needed. She's got my phone number if she desperately needs to get in touch, but otherwise I want you on your best behaviour.'

'How much does she know?'

'Only that you need home care for a few weeks until I can get proper time off work to look after you, so no crazy stories about aliens. She'll think you're talking about immigrants.'

'She's knows about us?'

'Of course she does. She's seen you sneak into my old apartment enough times to know that you're not just coming around to collect clean laundry.'

'The laundry is just an added benefit,' Jack smiled.

Ianto leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. 'See, keep that winning charm going and you'll get along just fine. You'll be friends in no time.'

Jack was confident that he could win her over in five minutes. He had no idea how wrong he'd be.

There was a knocking at the door that prevented Ianto from whatever he'd been about to say. 'That'll be her.'

He left to answer the door, leaving Jack on his own for ten minutes whilst he covered off on the basics with Greta about where to find anything she needed, and probably to warn her about Jack's ruthless charms. He quickly ducked back into the bedroom, planting another quick kiss on Jack's lips and was dashing out the door, his phone already beeping with the first rift alert of the day.

The woman who stood in the doorway was nothing like what Jack had expected. He expected her to be young, Ianto's age, and blonde, some kind of junior nurse working long hours in accident and emergency for very little pay, and even less appreciation. Instead he was faced with a stern looking brunette, her hair pulled back tightly into a bun. She wasn't old exactly, but she looked closer to Jack's age, somewhere in her early forties or maybe a shade younger, with deep brown eyes and narrow lips.

'You must be Greta,' he said. 'Pleasure to meet you.'

'Good morning, sir,' she said, her accent thick and European.

Her greeting immediately cut Jack to the quick. He wanted Ianto to be here calling him sir.

She walked into the room and began moving about, pulling the curtains open wide and letting in the first shards of pale morning sunshine, causing Jack to squint.

'I was kinda looking forward to a sleep in.'

'Nonsense. Is morning now and you need to stick to routine. Day is not for sleeping.'

Oh really? he thought. 'You work shifts. Don't you sleep during during the day?'

'Only when I work at night. You have not worked at night.'

Right, well that's me told, he thought.

'Ianto says you have not had breakfast yet,' she stated, pulling the pillow roughly out from under his back and readjusting it. He wanted to complain that it was fine, but had to admit that after she'd repositioned it, it was more comfortable, even if it made him sit more upright. 'Porridge is okay, yes?'

'Fine,' Jack replied.

She returned ten minutes later with the bowl of steaming oats, setting out a tray table over Jack's lap.

'You can eat on your own, yes?'

'I'm not an invalid, whatever Ianto told you. A few busted bones, that's all.'

She began tidying the sheets whilst he tucked into the first spoonful, hearing him gag on it.

'Is everything okay, sir?'

'Call me Jack. It doesn't have any honey or cinnamon and it tastes funny. Watery. Did you put enough milk in?'

'No milk,' she replied. 'Is cooked with water. I can get you honey if you must have sugar with it.'

Oh, okay, he thought glumly, noting the tone in her voice implying that he had to have sugar in it. He watched her put the tiniest drop of honey on top, where he would have drawn concentric circles across the bowl. That wasn't going to improve the taste much, but he forced it down. He considered asking about coffee, but before he could debate the relative merits of letting her near Ianto's precious machine, she'd placed a glass of orange juice on the bed side table. Once he was done, all the dishes were efficiently removed, and he could hear her quietly rinsing them and putting them away in the kitchen downstairs.

She returned a little while later with a small bowl of water, soap and a flannel. He expected she would just leave it for him so that he could attend to washing himself, but she pulled the covers down and was reaching for the edges of his t-shirt to pull it up over his head.

'Ianto paid for the full service, I see,' he joked, as she dunked the flannel in the water, soaping it up and squeezing it out. Her movements were firm, but gentle. He felt awkward being so helpless and in the care of a complete stranger, so he closed his eyes and tried to picture Ianto standing over him instead, wiping his skin with the warm cloth. He was beginning to enjoy the sensation and when he felt the hand slip under the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down, he suddenly had to remind himself that it wasn't Ianto, and that this wasn't what he had been fantasizing about.

'Woah, woah, woah,' he said, pushing her hand away, 'full service does not include that.'

For someone who was usually such an exhibitionist, he was altogether self conscious about her going anywhere near his crown jewels. He had to maintain a little bit of self respect.

'It's not like I haven't seen before,' she replied, keeping her words clipped and short.

He wasn't sure about that. Despite her being a nurse, she didn't seem the kind that had a husband or a boyfriend.

'Bad enough that I have to pee in a bottle. I think I can clean myself.' He reached out for the cloth as she held it out of reach.

'If you act like child, I will treat you like child.'

'I'm not a child.'

'Could have fooled me. But if you insist you can finish yourself.'

She stepped out of the room and let him tend to the task, which was altogether more difficult than he thought on account of any movement in that general area eliciting a fresh round of pain whilst his bones slowly knit themselves back to together. Until they were a little further progressed, the circulation to his legs wasn't great, and he'd be stuck in bed until such time. Hopefully by tomorrow or the day after, he'd at least be able put weight on them so that he could move a little bit. Greta returned and saw the pained look on his face once he'd finished.

'Would not have hurt so much if you'd let me do it. You want painkiller?'

He accepted the tablets gratefully, annoyed at his own need for them. It had only been a few hours and already he wanted it over with, and for Ianto to be here. She made to sit in the chair that sat in the corner of their room, the one that usually housed their clothes from the night before, or those for the morning after.

'You don't have to stay,' he said, trying to be as polite as he could manage without telling her outright to go away.

Greta shrugged and placed a small brass bell on the table. 'I will leave you alone. Ring bell if you need anything.'

He thought he'd be happy to have her go away, but after an hour he was bored and craving company. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted her company and instead tried to amuse himself with a book, something he rarely ever had time for. It worked for an hour or so, but even then he grew tired of it.

He rang the bell once and asked if Greta could bring him his laptop. She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if he was up to something, and that it wasn't on some magical list of contraband items that Ianto had left for her, but she brought it anyway.

'I have some reports I can work on,' he insisted. It was true that there was work he could be doing, but more than that, he wanted to find out what the others were up to in his absence. A quick check of the logs should show him what they were working on, and if anything interesting had come through. What he hadn't factored in was Ianto setting a trojan in his laptop so that if he tried to log in, he'd be immediately alerted to the intrusion to their systems.

"You had better be working on that costings report for treasury," came the instant message.

"Can't be any more boring than what I'm doing now," Jack replied.

He didn't get any further messages from Ianto after that. He could see that a rift alert had come through, requiring all of them to head out to Barry to go and investigate. Whilst they were out, he wouldn't get anymore details. He'd have to wait until they filed their reports later in the day, assuming it was reasonably harmless and that they hadn't just gone out there to face something awful or dangerous. That was the thing he hated most about being cooped up at home. The boredom might kill him, but there were plenty of things out there that could kill his team.

A few hours rolled by as he finally started to make some progress on the reports, resigned to the fact that it really did have to be done, when he began to hear sounds downstairs again. He'd almost forgotten about Greta. He wondered what she'd been doing all day. If he was bored, it couldn't be anything compared to hanging around waiting for that silly little bell to ring, which he'd avoided. The pain in his left side had gotten worse because the pillow that was placed between his legs to keep his hip in place had shifted, causing more pressure on one side of his slowly healing hip bone, but he didn't call for help. Greta had taken custody of his pain meds too, in case he should decide to self medicate his way to oblivion. She must have heard him thinking about her because she suddenly appeared in the doorway, entering to readjust pillows and blankets in her officious manner without further words. No wonder she and Ianto got along so well. They could have had an entire conversation about hospital corners without a word spoken between them. It was only as he was sitting there, feeling the pain in his left side easing from the adjusted pillow, that he caught the smell of onions on her. A larger sniff and he realised he could smell something downstairs.

'Have you been cooking?' Ianto hated it when he made a mess in the kitchen, but he suspected Greta would clean away any and all traces of any involvement in their kitchen without his knowing.

'Now you are interested in what I've been doing?'

It was a bit of a slap in the face, but no more than he deserved he supposed. He'd been rude, grumpy and unfriendly all day. He didn't like being out of action, and he liked being helped even less. Ianto had probably promised her he'd be no trouble, and she had dropped whatever job she'd had to come here and help. He didn't have to like her, but he didn't have to be nasty about it either.

She brought him a large bowl of something half an hour later. It was bright purple and he wondered whether she'd been cooking or experimenting.

'What is it?'

'Beetroot, carrot and parsnip soup. My grandmother's recipe.'

'I hate parsnips,' he grumbled, having actually been excited by the prospect of home cooked food, but then remembering the porridge from this morning.

'You need to eat vegetables more,' she replied, ' and is a little hard to take them out of soup now.'

'Ianto is the one who needs to eat more vegetables.'

'I have left plenty for him when he gets home. Eat.'

He ate the soup under her watchful eye. It wasn't quite as bad as he'd expected, but it was still missing a hunk of crusty bread and some cheese to go with it.

'No chance of any dessert, is there?' he asked, receiving a look that very cleary said no.

She readjusted everything again, helping him to settle lower into the bed for the night before disappearing again. It was almost disturbing knowing she was in the house, but not knowing what she was doing.

Finally though, he heard the engine of a car outside and the door slamming shut, signaling Ianto's return. Looking over at the clock he realised it was late, nearly ten.

It was another fifteen minutes before he heard a second car door shut and disappear down the street. He hoped Ianto hadn't been called out again, but the sound of the footsteps coming up the stairs were distinctly his.

'Hey,' he said, coming over and leaning in for a kiss. 'How are you?'

'Better for having you here.'

'I'll bet,' Ianto replied. Jack caught the look on his face. He could tell that the fifteen minutes had been spent on getting his report card from Greta, and that in several subjects he'd clearly flunked.

'I heard you've spent the day being your usual, stubborn self,' Ianto said.

He tried to bristle at the comment but found it almost impossible. 'I don't think the nurse you hired is the same one that you remember from your apartment block.'

'Don't be ridiculous, of course she is. I already gave her the spare key.'

'What the hell, Ianto. I thought you were getting me someone nice, not Nurse Ratchet!'

'She's not that bad.'

'She's like a German nazi.'

'She's Polish, Jack, so I'd be careful about using references like that.'

'Fine, she's a drill sergeant then,' Jack huffed.

'You were expecting a naughty nurse,' Ianto said, reading between the lines.

'Not exactly,' Jack squirmed, wishing he hadn't. 'Just not her.'

'Give her some leeway,' he implored. 'You're a difficult patient at the best of times, and even I can't always control you. What chance does someone else have?'

He sat there sulking, and trying not to, just happy that Ianto was here now, for however long that might be.

'She left you soup if you're hungry. It's fuchsia and could be alien.'

Ianto smiled. 'Ah, she made my favourite.'

Another day rolled by and Jack and Greta somehow managed to share the house without too much entanglement. Jack was fuelled by a need to make sure Ianto didn't worry about him and to try and be nicer to Greta despite her terse bedside manner. Ianto was home earlier that day so that certainly helped, and Jack remained awake for large periods during the night, just so that he could lie there and watch Ianto in the dark listening to his soft snores, in the hopes that he could sleep during the day and not have to deal with his nanny.

On the third day, Greta was much more involved, getting him to do exercises moving his feet up and down in bed, telling him that he needed to get the circulation flowing in his legs, and that if he could manage it, he should try to get up and sit in a chair for a while .

'Bed sores are nasty,' she said.

He couldn't tell her that they'd heal before they had a chance to become a problem, instead amusing himself with the mindlessly boring task of alternating his feet up and down, if only so he could do as she suggested, and leave these four walls for a while.

It wasn't quite the emancipation he'd hoped for, only being able to make it as far as the bedroom chair with her help, but at least it was progress. Regardless, he checked his drawer after she left and found his gun missing. More of Ianto's handiwork to ensure the didn't try to shortcut the healing process.

Emboldened by the fact that he'd managed to wrangle out of Greta a simple lunch of a harm and tomato sandwich, he decided to push his luck a bit more.

'I want to go downstairs.'

'You are not ready.'

'You told me I needed physical therapy and to keep moving. I'm going stir crazy up here, and if you don't help me, I'll do it on my own.'

'You are stubborn one,' she said, crossing her arms. 'Ianto will not be happy if you make things worse.'

'Ianto will not be happy if I'm unhappy,' he countered.

They stared each other down for a few minutes but eventually Jack got his way. Greta helped him into track pants and a warm sweater before easing him up from the edge of the bed. The trip down the hall was okay, and the pins and needles in his legs had all but gone. The only trouble now was that the muscles hadn't had much use in the last few days, and felt like jelly underneath him. At the top of the stairs he paused, reconsidering. The stairs looked far more formidable now that he was looking down them, given how much he'd struggled down the hall. He was determined though, and Greta didn't try to stop him.

'If you break something, I will not have to do it for you,' was the only comment she made.

It was slow and arduous, and there was a certain amount of pain as he bit his lip to hold back from making small whimpering noises. The bones were healing, but there was a lot of tissue damage as well which couldn't fix itself until the bones around it were whole again.

By the time they reached the living room, he wanted nothing more than to flop onto the sofa, but knew that if he did, he'd be in a whole lot more pain, instead letting Greta slowly lever him down onto it.

'I suppose congratulations are in order,' she said, looking down at him.

'So you do have a sense of humour,' he quipped, unable to hide the self satisfied smile from his face.

'Now what?' she asked.

'Now I can stare at some different walls for a few hours.'

She walked away, muttering something in Polish that he didn't understand, but which sounded very similar to the tone Ianto used when he muttered rude things about Jack in Welsh. Despite that, she came back with a glass of water and some more painkillers, knowing how much he would be hurting after this efforts, and a small DVD sized box.

'Ianto gave me this. He said you can watch it.'

He turned it over in his hands realising it was the series they'd stared watching together on their rare nights off. Ianto had made him promise not to watch it without him, but now had given him free reign to sneak a few episodes ahead, so long as he didn't spoil the plot for him. He should've been excited, but half an hour into the program and he was dozing off on the sofa.

That night, Greta fed him a stew that she'd been cooking all afternoon whilst he slept, the smell of food unable to rouse him as it would have done normally. There was even a kind of rice pudding afterwards. She'd never made him dessert before. She said it was reward for today and because Ianto would be home very late.

Ianto was surprised to find him lying on the couch when he finally did arrive home.

'How did you get down here?'

'I fixed my vortex manipulator,' Jack joked.

'Good to see you're on the mend. Can I help you back upstairs to bed?'

Jack was pleased that Ianto thought he was doing well, but the thought of another trip on those stairs filled him with dread. It was bad enough letting Greta see him struggle like that.

'I just got comfy,' he lied. 'Think I'll stay here tonight.'

Ianto didn't question him further. He knew deep down that Jack's pride was a fragile thing.

'You'll be okay down here?'

'I've got my bell,' Jack replied, picking it up off the coffee table and giving it a little tinkle.

'So you do,' Ianto replied. He fetched a blanket from the cupboard in the hall and draped it over Jack, before heading to bed.

Jack didn't hear him leave the next morning, nor hear Greta come in twenty minutes later. It was the sound of a vacuum on the upstairs landing that woke him. He also registered the scent of furniture polish, which immediately made him think of Ianto.

'Greta?' he called out. The sound of the vacuum stopped and she padded downstairs.

'You stayed here last night?' she asked. 'You didn't want to impress Ianto by going back upstairs?'

'I didn't want to depress him by going back upstairs,' he replied.

'Such a big man,' she joked, or at least he thought she was joking, rather than delivering him a thinly veiled insult.

'Can I ask a favour?'

'And what would that be, Jack? Day trip to park? Rollercoaster ride?'

'Nothing quite so extreme,' he replied, wondering how his life had become so mundane, so quickly. 'I was thinking maybe a shower?' He was even prepared to forgo some dignity just for the feeling of hot water.

'Lucky I bring stool with me today, then.'

Their shower was spacious, and easily fit the small plastic chair. It had been one of the things they'd loved about the house when they'd bought it, since they often got a lot of use out of their shower, in more ways than just general hygiene. With only a little help needed, he was able to sit on it and enjoy the steaming hot water coursing over his body, stripping away some of the aches and massaging his head. It was a long shower and one that made him feel a hundred times better afterwards.

As Greta helped him back downstairs, he could smell the lemony scent of cleaning agents on her.

'You don't have to clean around here. You're not the maid.'

'Is all done,' she said. 'House was very clean to start with, and I had nothing else to do.'

'What do you do all day when you're not cooking and cleaning. I hardly see you.'

'Isn't that what you wanted? Nurse to come when you ring bell and go away after?'

'That doesn't answer my question,' he said, trying not to feel guilty.

'I read books.'

'Anna Karenina?'

'Too depressing. Ian Rankin. That Rebus is clever fellow.'

Jack knew he shouldn't be surprised. Ianto devoured those books as well, and their shelf had a whole row of them.

'Sitting or lying down?' she asked as they approached the sofa.

'Sitting. I think I've done enough lying around.'

'I can put music on, if you like,' she said.

'Okay.'

'Any preference?'

'I'll let you pick,' he said, at least knowing she was limited to their own collection, and that he wasn't about to be assailed by some ancient piece by Schubert. She slipped the disc into the audio system, letting the first few bars tumble around the room.

'Bon Jovi? Seriously?' Would this woman ever stop surprising him?

'I love Bon Jovi. He's so talented.'

He could hear her humming it all the way back to the kitchen, going to fix lunch. She dropped the plate of neat little sandwiches on the coffee table for him and made to return to the kitchen for her own lunch.

'Why don't you stay and have lunch with me?'

'You want lunch with, how you say, Nurse Ratchet?'

'I'm sorry I said that,' he apologised, forgetting that that only person he'd said it to was Ianto, but that the comment had passed along on one of their many little chit chats about how their patient was doing.

She perched on the opposite chair, nibbling her own sandwiches.

'How long have you lived in Cardiff?' Jack asked.

'Two years.'

'You came from Poland, yeah? Which part?'

'Little town. You won't have heard of it.'

'Try me.'

As it turned out he had heard of it. He'd even been there once, long ago, although calling it a town was a misnomer. When he'd passed through with his small company in 1941 it had been little more than a burnt out pile of rubble. The Germans had rolled through a few weeks earlier, destroying everything in their path, including the few remaining residents who had somehow avoided the first culling.

'My grandfather served in the war,' he lied. 'He wrote about all the places he'd been. He said it would have been beautiful before the war.'

'It was beautiful. My grandmother returned there after the war to help rebuild. She was the only one from the town that survived the camps. Others came though. She met a man and got married, had my mother. My mother met a man from the town and married too.'

'You lived there your whole life?'

'Until my husband died.'

Being the granddaughter of a Polish prisoner of war hadn't surprised him, and yet, knowing she'd been married had.

'He was doctor. Traveled to all the villages in the area. I was his nurse, then his wife.'

'You fell in love with him,' Jack stated.

'He was most beautiful man. I have photo.'

'Can I see?'

In her purse was a small photo of the two of them. They looked so happy together, Greta smiling and laughing, not at all like the stern woman who'd marched him around the house. Her husband was equally handsome, with an air of Dominic West about him, all dark hair and blue eyes, and Jack suddenly understood why this reserved woman had struck up a quasi friendship with Ianto. The two were not dissimilar in appearance.

He handed her back the photo. 'Do you mind me asking how he died?'

She paused, staring down at the photo.

'We were having to treat patient in town prison. He was very violent, raped many women. My husband said he would go in alone so I didn't have to. Somehow he grabbed needle and stabbed him, then strangled him. I was on other side of door but didn't have key. I yelled for guards but they didn't get inside fast enough.'

Jack was horrified. 'What did you do?'

'Guards drugged him and I went in and finished stitching his wound. Then I left and took my husband home to bury him.'

All of the world's problems seemed to pale into insignificance. Who cared about weevils and aliens when there were real monsters lurking amongst them. Human monsters. And yet the human spirit carried on, looking past the ugliness and trying to find hope again. No matter how much the horror, they just kept going on. Greta had had a hard life, but she'd bravely hardened herself against the worst of it. Jack knew exactly what that was like.

'I'm sorry,' he said, having lost his appetite.

'Is in past now. We have to move on.'

'But we don't have to forget,' he replied.

Ianto was tired when he fumbled with the keys in the door. He was looking forward to crashing into bed and writing off today. Owen and Gwen had been in fine form all day, and he'd already had to shower twice to try and remove the sticky purple substance that had ejected from one of Owen's many plant specimens in the hothouse, which also smelled of rotting fish. He wasn't sure anymore if he still smelled or if the scent was just so memorable that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He'd expected the house to be quiet, but instead, there was loud music issuing from the living room and the sound of louder voices singing along. He recongised the tune as being one from the Sing Star game he'd bought Jack last Christmas. It had been a mistake, since once you got Jack started, he didn't want to stop. It wasn't that he had a bad signing voice either, only that he insisted on dragging Ianto into his little singalong as well. You had to get him really drunk before he could be convinced to belt out show tunes. The national anthem was one thing, but singing in general wasn't on his list of fun things to do. It was also around the same time that he'd discovered Jack's closet fan obsession with Richard Marx, which was what was currently playing.

Jack and Greta both had the toy microphones in hand, singing, or more wailing out the lyrics, only stopping once Ianto was in full view, the music continuing on without them. Last he'd checked, they'd only suffered each other's company because Jack needed someone to look after him, and Greta because Ianto was paying her and she was happy to do him a favour, even if she had described Jack as a stubborn, obnoxious mule.

'Uh, did another dimension open up in our living room and replace you two with alternate versions of yourselves?'

'Come on Ianto, sing with us.'

'That would be a no.'

'Why not?' Greta asked. 'Jack is very good singer.'

'I thought you two didn't get along?'

'We just needed to find some common ground, that's all,' Jack replied.

'Singing?' Ianto said, sounding skeptical. 'What happened to resting and recuperating?'

'I'm still sitting on the couch. Besides, I haven't felt this good for days.'

In fairness, Jack hadn't looked this good for days, and his cheery disposition was refreshing from the tired, bored, lackadaisical one he'd been harboring since his house arrest nearly a week ago.

'I was going to try and take tomorrow off work, but it seems like the two of you don't need me here.'

'Don't be like that, Ianto,' Jack implored. 'Come on, we've been saving up Goldfinger until you got home.'

Ianto flushed red with embarrassment. That had been once only, he'd been very drunk, and still remembered the humiliating attempt to imitate Shirley Bassey; one he'd hoped never to repeat.

He sighed. The things he did for love.

'Fine. I suppose they do say laughter is the best medicine, and there'll certainly be plenty of that. If you shatter my dignity, I'm going to have to borrow Greta to piece it back together for me.'

'At least you'll be in very good hands.'

'I don't doubt it.'