Jean-Luc frowned and shook his head. “And he proceeded to show you alternate realities to show you what could have been?”

Gemini nodded, eyes still focused on the floor. She had finally reached a point where she could no longer cry–quite possibly because she had used up all of her tears. 

Guinan was sitting on the bench beside her, devoid of her usual headwear and wearing a dull purple robe. She had a hand firmly on Gemini’s leg for support.

The captain sighed and again began pacing across the floor of his ready room. “I regret not informing you–or warning you–about Q. He seems to delight in tormenting me, and very often members of the crew by proxy.”

“I know Q; this one seems too targeted to be by proxy,” Guinan added.

Jean-Luc stopped walking when he reached his window. “That’s what worries me.” He turned around. “There had to be some purpose–some reason he targeted Gemini alone.”

Guinan gently smoothed Gemini’s white hair in a mothering gesture. “He could be interested in Gemini as the last of a very powerful race of humanoids.”

“He did say something like that,” the Aravasti muttered.

“That still seems to be an odd way to show his curiosity.”

“It reminds me of a child playing with dolls,” Guinan glanced up. “Perhaps he was just curious to see her in different situations.”

“A child playing with dolls is a fair assessment of Q’s behavior,” Jean-Luc growled before sighing and returning to the bench she and Guinan were sitting on. “Whatever the case, Ms. Gemini,” he knelt down and coaxed her eyes upward. “I sincerely apologize for what he put you through. I regret you had to bear it alone,” he paused and shook his head, “and then, return to this.”

Guinan squeezed Gemini’s leg as her form slumped further forward.

“Please know you do not have to bear this alone, now.”

She shuddered through a sob, but managed to nod her head. “Thank you, Captain.”

“We’re all here for you,” Guinan added, tipping her head near her. A few of her long braids slipped over her shoulder in the process.

“I would request you continue to lean heavily on Counselor Troi,” Jean-Luc urged her. “And I want you to take as much time as you need to grieve. Your role aboard the Enterprise is here when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, offering a more pleasant expression in lieu of a smile.

Jean-Luc nodded and stood up, tugging down on his uniform as he stepped backward.

Guinan followed Gemini’s lead and helped her stand, walking her to the door of the captain’s ready room. They walked through the bridge, and Gemini caught the gazes of Data, Ace, and Geordi before being whisked behind the sliding doors of the turbolift.

“Deck nine,” Guinan said.

“You don’t have to walk me down to my room,” Gemini turned to the woman as the turbolift began its trek.

“I don’t have to, but I don’t mind.” Guinan smiled.

The smallest of smiles tugged at her lips. “I’ll be all right. I may just need to rest so I’ll have strength for the funeral tomorrow.” She swallowed the lump that immediately began forming in her throat.

The El-Aurien laid her hand on the Aravasti’s back. She said nothing, but her empathetic expression was more than effective.

Gemini pursed her lips together and ducked her head to give Guinan a hug. The woman simply held her as tightly as she could. When the door hissed open behind them, they slowly separated.

“You call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With that, Gemini left the turbolift alone.

She walked through the halls, purposely avoiding eye contact with others passing through. She continued until she reached her door and stepped inside.

After the door hissed closed, the room grew silent, save for the ever-present dull humming of the ship’s engines. The windows were dark, and only indirect lighting from various points across the room offered glimpses of light. She took in a slow, deep breath, and she shut her eyes as she released it through her lips. 

She opened her eyes a moment later to find a man in a red Starfleet uniform standing beside her table.

She hissed a sigh and started to walk past him.

“Gemini.”

“Go away.”

“I wanted to offer my condolences,” Q tried.

Gemini could hear the lack of sarcasm and cynicism in his tone. When she turned around, the immortal being’s expression was almost remorseful.

“I’m sorry, Gemini.”

The words, the tone, the expression–it was identical to when he had spoken it before.

“You knew,” she took a step toward him. “You knew this would happen.”

Q’s brows raised as she walked up to him, remaining silent.

“You knew, so you tried to show me other lives you think I’d like better so I wouldn’t have to endure this.”

“Every life holds something terrible that must be endured,” he replied simply, “but… I will not deny your claim.”

“Then, why didn’t you say something?” She choked, “Why didn’t you warn me?”

Q opened his arms. “Would you have believed me?”

Gemini shut her eyes and turned away. She slipped off her glasses to wipe her eyes and sat down on the edge of her sofa. A vase of wilting sunflowers was on the table beside it. Her lips puckered.

“I didn’t just come here to say I’m sorry,” Q continued, looking down at the silent Aravasti. “I came to give you a chance.”

“I don’t want any.”

“A chance to stop this reality from happening.”

Her eyes slowly rose to meet him.

“I will give you one–and only one–chance to change something and prevent Hudson’s death. If you can do it, that will become your new reality.”

She put on her glasses. “You’re going to let me change what happens?”

“Yes,” he said. “If you can find a way to save your husband, I will allow him to be saved.”

“And if I don’t?”

Q shrugged. “You don’t. This reality stands.”

Gemini bit her lip. She looked again at the flowers on the table, the last gift Hudson would ever give to her–in this reality.

She took in a deep breath and stood up. “All right. But how do I know I can trust you?” 

Q grabbed her wrist.

“You have one chance. Do something rash and unexpected–I don’t care–but if you succeed, that will be your reality.”

She nodded, the flame of determination in her eyes.

When Q released her wrist, a small inked ‘Q’ remained.

“Ugh, really? A ‘Q’?”

“What’d’you say?”

Gemini looked up upon hearing the voice.

She flew from the sitting room and into the bedroom to find the man standing in front of the wardrobe’s mirror, inspecting his yellow-gold uniform and adjusting the single hollow pip on his collar.

“Hey–woah!” He almost toppled over when Gemini nearly threw herself into his arms. “Good mornin’,” he grinned, giving her a squeeze. “Gosh, you’re huggin’ like you haven’t seen me in a week!”

She tried to hide her tears as she pulled away. “I just… It’s always good to see you every morning.”

He grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Hey, I was thinking,” she laid her hands on his shoulders, “what if we both called off work today and took a day together? In fact–we should just… never leave our quarters today. At all.”

Hudson laughed and walked around her to step into the bathroom. “That sounds mighty temptin’, but you know we’ve both got big stuff to be doin’ today.”

“Like what?” She grit her teeth and followed after him.

“Well,” he took a comb out of the drawer, “for one, you gotta bring Ace to the tournament this afternoon.”

“Well, yeah,” she glanced aside. “But you?”

“We’re gonna start runnin’ tests on the new phaser technology!” Hudson ran the comb through his hair, then lightly brushed his sideburns. “Geordi said it’s a real big deal; it’s pretty excitin’ I get to be a part of it.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool. But,” she leapt out of her place and met him as he turned around from the counter, “after your shift, you should come back here and plan us a date.”

“Oh?” He ginned. “Well, if you don’t think you’ll be out too late–you know you turn into a pumpkin past ten o’clock,” he ribbed her, only to pause. “That’s twenty-two hundred, right? Gosh, I don’t think I’ll ever remember twenty-four hour time.”

Her smirk broke into a laugh, though her warm feeling was slowly tainted from the knowledge of the future in the back of her mind. “All right–here’s what we can do,” she smiled and leaned against him. “The second I have comms again, I’ll let you know I’m on my way back to the Enterprise. Then, you can make sure you’ve got everything in place.”

“You won’t have comms there on the planet?”

“Data thinks it’s safest not to contact the Enterprise while I’m waiting for Ace, just in case they’re monitoring the signals. I don’t want to risk getting him in trouble if they link him back to Starfleet.”

“Oh, of course; that makes sense.” Hudson nodded. “It’s a date, then,” he kissed her cheek.

She took his head into her hands and redirected him to her lips. They shared a passionate kiss, and for one brief moment, Gemini forgot the weight of everything else around her.

“Gosh, you’re in a real good mood,” Hudson whispered through a smirk, “I may be thinkin’ about our date all day.”

“I know I will be,” she grinned, leaving a kiss behind on his cheek. 

“I’ll talk to you soon, love,” he grinned wide and stepped out into the sitting room. 

She heard the door slide open, then hiss back closed.

Her body slumped as breath and strength left her.

“I sure hope so.”

---
Scene Notes

• You mean Q may have had good intentions despite seeming kinda like a jerk? Hmm...
• Gemini and Hudson are still my favorite in any universe ❤️

Elliot was only half listening as the two young women at the bar chattered away. His eyes were frequently glancing over their shoulders to find Ensign Maddox still wooing the blond-haired Officer Hawthorne in the back corner of the lounge.

“Oh my goodness–Elliot!” Selena exclaimed, her mass of red ombre-dyed braids spilling over her shoulders as she leaned forward. “I’m forgetting the best part!”

“Do tell,” he reeled in his attention and put on a smile.

“Philip and I started talking about marriage!”

Elliot nearly topped forward, eyes wide. “Oh! Um…”

“Oh my gosh, Selena!” Rachel clapped a hand over her lips. 

The barkeeper sucked in a breath. “Are you sure this… isn’t too soon?”

“I know we’ve only been dating a couple weeks,” Selena idly twirled her fingers as her bronze skin flushed pink, “but we had a serious conversation in my quarters last night, and I really think… I really think he’s the one!”

“I can’t believe it!” Rachel playfully shoved her. “I haven’t even found anyone I’ve wanted to date, much less anyone I wanted to marry–and here you are with both!”

“I know–I sure didn’t expect this!” She smiled into her lap. “I love him so much!”

As the two friends continued to coo over the news, Elliot’s mind clouded with worry. He had gotten to know both Selena and Crystal as frequently visited Ten Forward and often sat at the bar to talk to him since his arrival on the Enterprise weeks earlier. Although they didn’t appear to be friends themselves, they were both kind to each other in passing.

“Testing the waters,” he scowled, his eyes again drifting to Maddox. He did not like the idea of either woman getting hurt when they realized they were both being played.

“Oh–just a sec,” Rachel set down her glass, “I think I see Tia over there.”

Elliot felt a jolt of panic when Selena’s eyes followed her friend across the room, but thankfully, Rachel stopped at the table behind Geordi, Data, and Hudson–not continuing further to the table where Selena’s would-be-fiance was sitting with another woman.

He chewed on his lip. The would-be-fiance hadn’t seemed to notice either.

“Selena,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “I need to tell you something, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

Selena’s jovial smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

“As your friend, I can’t let you get your hopes up and risk getting hurt later.”

“Hurt?” She scooted closer to him to better hear his quiet words, donning a similarly worried expression.

“Philip is in this room right now with another girl. Don’t–” He threw up his hand as the woman’s head immediately whipped toward the rest of the room. “Selena!” He hissed.

But the woman’s eyes had found him. Her posture had stiffened. Her expression had gone blank. “How long?” Her voice was cold.

“He’s been… alternating between the two of you,” Elliot offered under his breath. “Selena, I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know what was going on–I shouldn’t even be involved–”

Her hand clamped onto his arm. Tears were welling in her eyes. “No,” she said simply. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, hey Philip–what??”

Elliot and Selena turned to find Rachel near the table in the back corner. Philip and Crystal were looking up at her in varying states of surprise–until Philip’s attention found Selena at the bar with her hand still holding Elliot’s arm.

He was on his feet in seconds, throwing his chair backward in the process. “Craver!!”

“Philip, you monster!!” Selena was quick to throw herself into his route to the bar. “Leading me on to think I’ve been the only girl you’ve ever wanted??”

Behind the storming man, Crystal stood up in shock. “What does she mean, Philip??”

But Maddox’s attention was far from either woman shouting his name. He shoved Selena out of his way and stepped up to the bar, seething. “You told her!!”

“Once she discovered you for herself!” Elliot growled.

Selena clawed at Maddox’s shoulder. “You get away from him!”

“I told you to stay out of my business!!” The man was unphased.

“How long did you think you could pull it off before the other would notice, huh??” Elliot spat.

Maddox swung a punch and landed a fist to Elliot’s nose.

Selena screamed.

“Hey!” Geordi shouted from his table as Data sprung to his feet.

Elliot, however, recoiled with a punch of his own, knocking Maddox aside and into Selena.

Maddox roared and grabbed Elliot by the shoulders, shoving him down the bar–and knocking over Selena and Rachel’s drinks–until he was pushed through the swinging door at the end.

Without the bar between them, both fell to the ground and rolled as they tried to grab or avoid each other. Elliot managed to scoot away, and he staggered back to his feet in the direction of Geordi, Data, and Hudson.

He had scarcely run into the table and turned around when the four found Maddox with a drawn phaser in hand.

“Maddox–stand down!!” Geordi shouted while Data rushed toward him.

Hudson flew out of his chair and curled toward Elliot.

Maddox fired the phaser.

---
Scene Notes

• Oh the drama... this isn't good.

“Three of a kind for the gentleman,” Branson gestured to Ace. “Well played.”

“And, I am out,” Rose sighed and sat back on her stool, holding up her hands as the last of her chips were pulled away.

“You played well, too,” Ace’s smirk softened. “I was actually getting a little worried there.”

The woman shook her head, her brown curls falling on her shoulders. “You’re just saying that.” She stepped down from the stool as Branson collected the cards. She then cozied up to Ace’s side, tugging on his tie to pull him closer.

“I always knew it would be you, Ace Gallagher.” She took her finger and slid it up his chin. “Good luck.”

Her lips were so close he could feel her breath on his chin. “Thank you, m’lady.”

Ace held his breath as Rose lingered a moment longer, only to turn and walk away of her own accord. She nodded to Bernard at the door before she exited the room without him.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, Mr. Gallagher,” Branson reached out his hand.

Ace, however, was still looking toward the door. “I suppose so,” he turned back, jumping when he saw Branson’s hand. He made up for it with a hearty handshake that had the dealer chuckling.

“You will move on to the final round once the other tables have finished, which shouldn’t be too long.”

“Sounds good,” Ace’s eyes drifted aside as an idea played in his thoughts. “So, Branson,” he leaned on the table as the dealer started sorting the chips. “Do you work for Mickey or is this a hired gig for you?”

“Both, I suppose,” Branson said with a shrug. “I’m usually one of his pilots, but I play cards in my spare time, so he hired me out to help with this tournament.”

“Nice,” Ace helped sort the chips nearest to him. “I’m training to be a pilot myself.”

“Oh, sweet!” Branson glanced up. “I enjoy it for the most part. Sometimes Mickey’s got me doing some crazy stuff though.”

“Like what?” Ace started grinning as the dealer eagerly took the bait.

“Well, so–like–this one mission he had me on,” Branson put away the last of the chips into the tray beside him, “I had to make three stops. They were picking people up, so I had to get in and get out real quick. The first planet–no lie–I have to fly into a sandstorm. Made the ‘stay out of sight’ bit easy, but man; those winds were brutal for a good landing.”

“Sounds pretty terrible, honestly,” Ace was wincing.

“Next planet, though,” Branson held out a finger, “ice storm. Third planet was a thunderstorm! All in the same system!”

“Wow, what system has three Class-M planets? That seems really rare.”

“Oh, it is; but that’s the Vega Quadrant for you; it’s full of inhabitable planets. There’s another three-planet system in there too, but he hired that one out to someone else. It was something like Talley… I don’t know.”

Ace froze. “Tal E?”

“Well!”

Ace glanced over his shoulder to find Mickey D walking up to him at a slow, waddle-like pace.

“If it isn’t table two’s champion, Mr. Gallagher!” He grinned wide as he approached.

“Hey, Mr. D,” Ace chewed on a smirk. “What’s that stand for, anyway?”

“What indeed,” the boss chuckled to himself. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what your real name is.”

The gambler laid a hand over his heart. “You don’t think my name is really Ace?”

Mickey broke into a laugh as he shook his head.

Still behind the table, Branson had donned a look of shock over their conversation–both from the way Ace was talking to Mickey, but that Mickey was going along with it jovially.

“You make me laugh more than anyone I know,” Mickey admitted after a moment.

Ace’s smirk softened as he watched the rotund gentleman catch his breath from both his walking and his laughing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Please, do,” he scratched his graying black hair. “You have also made me think more than anyone else.”

“Think, sir?”

“About my home,” he admitted, “and the places I’ve lived.”

“Like where?”

Before he could answer, Bernard appeared behind Mickey, and the two exchanged a whispered conversation before the assistant quickly scooted away.

Mickey’s beady eyes were still glancing in the direction he came. “Where have you felt most at home, Mr. Gallagher?”

Ace noticed he had redirected the question, but he figured he’d give the man an answer for once. “Like you, I’ll have to go with my birthplace: Fortanya. I don’t think I truly appreciated it until I spent time away,” Ace continued, his voice shifting in regret. “For all its quirks, and despite its hardships, it was familiar and comforting, it gave me all I needed, and it held some of my favorite people.”

The man nodded, squinting with a smile. “I can say the same for Trapani. Only my years on Galor IV came close. I had a small home there… it was… pleasant.”

“I think it’s possible to have two places that feel like home, especially when your life shifts things in a way you weren’t expecting.”

Mickey looked at Ace curiously. “You are a wise soul, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Michael.”

Mickey blinked back surprise.

“That’s my real name,” Ace leaned his elbow against the table.

The man in the pinstripe suit appeared to buckle under his acquaintance’s admission. “We are more similar than you know,” he admitted after a moment.

“Oh yeah?” Ace scooted closer. “So, I told you my name. Do I get yours?”

Mickey simply shook his head again with a chuckle. “Maybe after you win the tournament.”

“Hey, that wasn’t the arrangement,” Ace slipped off the chair as Mickey started away.

“I didn’t say knowing your name was the only stipulation,” the man shook his finger in the air, still hobbling back to his table. 

Ace shook his head with a smile before leaning both elbows on the table.

“Well, sir,” Branson picked up the box of chips into his hands, “I’ll take this as my cue to leave.”

“Thanks again, Branson; it was great talking with you.”

“Same here, man. I don’t care what Rose says; I like that you’re not afraid to talk to Mickey D–or the rest of us.”

“You know Rose’s name too?”

Branson only laughed and walked away toward a doorway in the back corner.

Ace watched Bernard slip out of the room when Branson opened the door. The assistant then stiffly walked up to Mickey D and exchanged another soft-spoken conversation–ending with both looking across the room at Ace. A dealer from another table then interrupted them both, and with a quick nod, Mickey held open his arms. “The time has come,” he exclaimed from the center of the room. “Four contestants remain, and four contestants will join me at my table. Come… if you please.”

Ace watched Mickey D keep his arms outstretched as the three other winners got up from their tables around him. He took a deep breath and left for Mickey D’s table.

The man of the hour gestured to the seat beside him as he approached. “Please–Mr. Gallagher–sit here.”

“Don’t mind if I do, Mr. D.” Once in his seat, he nudged Mickey in the side. “Now you do realize I’m going to have to win so I can learn your name.”

Mickey again broke into a hearty laugh that shook his entire frame. “Is that so!”

The dealer cleared his throat as the others at the table looked on in varying states of shock.

“Ah–my apologies, Bernard,” Mickey waved his hand with an air of annoyance.

“Bernard,” Ace eyed the man at the head of the table, “you’re a dealer too?”

“The only one I trust at my table,” Mickey gestured to him. “And I trust all of you will play fairly?”

The others nodded or gave quiet agreement to his words.

“Then,” the man in the pinstripe suit opened his hands, “let us play.”

Bernard adeptly shuffled the cards and dealt them speedily. The chips had already been placed at each stool, and with Mickey at the dealer’s right, he would be last to place his bets.

“I am looking forward to seeing how you play, Mr. Gallagher,” Mickey said somewhat under his breath as the players picked up their cards.

“Same to you, Mr. D,” Ace replied.

When the betting round began, the blond-haired man at the far end was quick to raise the ante with the first bet, the gray-haired woman beside him raised it further, and the Benzite man beside her simply called the bet. Ace allowed himself to ponder his choices now that the threat of a Betazoid reading his thoughts was removed, and with high hopes, he raised the bet another 20.

“Call,” Mickey D nodded, tossing his chips in.

“Drawing round.”

The man and the woman did not draw new cards, but the Benzite meticulously set down three of his five cards one at a time. His facial structure and breathing apparatus made it difficult for Ace to read his expression, but he was able to hear the speed at which the man was breathing. It quickened after he drew new cards, and Ace assumed he was going to be up against three good hands. 

Ace looked again at his hand; a pair of sevens and a scattering of other cards. Three of the cards were spades, and he could risk giving up one of his sevens for a chance at a flush. If the new cards were not spades, however, he’d be risking a hand of no value whatsoever.

He decided it wasn’t worth losing his passable hand to try for a better hand.

Ace saved his pair and set down the other three cards and lifted three new ones–finding them of no additional aid. He could only hope for luck as Mickey D finished the drawing round by taking one new card.

As expected, the first two human players were quick to raise the bets. The Benzite also raised it, albeit incrementally, and Ace, chewing his lip, decided it was best to fold.

To his surprise, Mickey did the same.

The three to their right ended up raising the bets a few more times before they realized none would be backing down. During the showdown, the Benzite ended up with the winning hand–a straight with a high queen.

During the second round, the three once again raised their bets to soaring heights, and Ace and Mickey D called them to stay in. Ace had three of a kind, and he drew one more in the off chance he’d pull a pair for his king. Unfortunately, he did not.

“I see your one-hundred, and I’ll raise it by one-hundred,” Mickey D announced, putting in the second of two 100 credit chips.

“Call,” said the blond-haired man.

“Call,” the gray-haired woman nodded.

The Benzite lifted a 50 chip. “I raise by fifty.”

Ace scowled silently at his chips. They were going far faster than he was hoping, and talking to Mickey during the game was not an option. He either had to win and hope he’d get another chance after the tournament, or take his loss and hope the man would ask him to stay. The latter seemed possible, but much less likely.

“I’ll raise by seventy-five,” he announced, biting the bullet to stay in the game.

Mickey D took another look at his cards. “All in.”

The collective shock at the table was only felt, as every player maintained a straight face. The only other cue Ace heard was the changes in the breathing of the Benzite beside him.

The blond-haired man and the Benzite folded, but the woman matched the bet by sliding her chips into the center.

Ace swallowed and did the same. “Call.”

“Showdown,” Bernard announced.

Ace flipped over his three jacks, but in an instant, he knew he was outmatched by Mickey’s flush. The gray-haired woman had also been bluffing, with only a pair of threes in her hand.

“Mickey D wins. Gallagher, Renick: you will be seen out.”

Mickey D laid a hand on Ace’s back. “Don’t tell anyone,” his voice was gruff as he tried to keep his volume down, “but I was rooting for you. Well-played.”

Ace smiled and offered Mickey his gloved hand. “May we meet again.”

Mickey glanced down as he shook Ace’s hand. “I wish we could, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Sir,” Bernard reminded the two of the ongoing game.

Ace somewhat awkwardly waved and got up from the table. As he walked away, a surge of emotions filled him. The first was accomplishment; getting as far as he did in a real tournament was impressive. The second: regret from not being able to talk to Mickey D more than he had–not only to fulfill his mission, but to get to know the man better. He could see beyond the hardened exterior and find a man who was kind, a little nostalgic, and certainly not the criminal he was said to be.

As he approached the doorman near the ballroom’s doors, the third feeling sunk in: fear. Every other participant was met with startling news before being led out of the room–or out of the mansion. Rose’s words echoed in his mind of participants never being seen again.

Ace swallowed, faltering in his steps. Was that what Mickey meant by only wishing they could meet again?

“Come with me, sir,” the doorman met him, “and I will give you your earnings.”

Ace paused his walk. “Earnings?”

“Yes, sir,” the man ushered him through the door. “Everyone who participated in the tournament receives a portion of the prize.”

Sure enough, the gray-haired woman was still in the foyer with another doorman, joyfully receiving a scan card of digital currency. Ace was handed a similar card, along with the thin box of dilithium he had turned in as his entrance fee.

“Wait, what?” Ace hesitantly accepted the gifts.

“This is what The Boss wanted: his fortune would be split among those who attended, and none would leave without what they brought in.”

Ace was truly stunned now: this was the reason everyone had seemed shocked and overwhelmed as they were coaxed from the mansion, and this certainly did not seem like the act a man of Mickey D’s notoriety would have ordered.

Still, he was sent on his way back to his shuttle, with the tip of the doorman’s hat and a door held open. He could do nothing more than walk down the long pathway dotted with tall lamp posts to the landing pads ahead–carrying his winnings in hand and a wave of thoughts in his mind.

---
Scene Notes

• Anybody else have theories about Mickey D? ...or Ace?