The Purpose of a Heart
Chapter Twenty-One

"Let me get this right." The main officer of Bakura's case, the one that Yami had nearly gotten in a fight with, eyed Tom with obvious distrust. "You're saying that you also worked within this secret society that Bakura told us about?"

After splitting up with the rest of the group that afternoon, Tom had gone straight to the police station to tell them his story. For the last hour he had talked, recalled everything he thought might be able to help, and the witness to this testimony was the man sitting before him: a trim, no-nonsense, fairly serious looking police officer. Theoffice he was in looked very lived-in, the walls crowded with papers, pictures, and official-looking documents. The array displayed indicated that the same person had probably inhabited the office for a long time, and he seemed to be very proud of hisaccomplishments.It was rather distracting.

"Yes, he was telling the truth. Issei Iyoku was threatening to kill someone close to him if he didn't kill those people. He made threats to keep all of us there. And he made good on whatever threats he made. Bakura had no choice to do the things he did, and you can't arrest him for that."

To his credit, the officer was taking down every word that Tom said on a yellow notepad, as if his life depended on the perfection by which he wrote. He looked over his perfectly-penned notes for a moment and then asked,

"So tell me, why is it that no one else has come forward?"

"They're probably too afraid to." Tom said truthfully. "I wasn't going to myself."

"What changed your mind?"

"Bakura's friend Yami figured out where I'd been, and once he told me the story, I agreed to help him."

"Well, thank you for your input." He stood up.

"That's it?"

"We'll put this away on file. It may come in handy at the trial."

"Trial?"

"When Bakura is put on trial. As of yet, we don't have enough evidence for the terrorism charges. There's no proof that Bakura himself did any of it. However we do have enough to convict him for the murders as soon as he's able to leave the hospital to go to the courthouse."

"But, but what about my-"

"I'm sure your story will be most important to the trial as well. Now, go on." The officer said, pushing Tom out the door and shutting it being him; crumpling up theno-longer-perfectnotes as he did so, and tossing them into his trash basket, smiling serenely.

Outside, Tom sighed, unaware thathis past hourhad just been tossed-literally-away."Guess I'd better tell Yami." He muttered, not wanting to imagine the look on Yami's face at the news. He knew it would be best to break it to him as soon as possible. Letting him get his hopes up was cruel, but still, he wished it didn't have to be him.

Yami's reaction was pretty much what he expected. He stood there in silence till he finished his story, then sighed.

"So there's nothing left." Yami said. Tom nodded.

"I don't think my story will make any difference. They've decided that Bakura is guilty. There's nothing we can do anymore. We tried our best, it's just…"

"I understand. Thank you for trying."

"Yami, both you and Bakura had good intentions. I'm really sorry they didn't work out."

"I know."

Tom noted Yami's pale complexion and unhealthily-thin figure. A single week of stress had brought about quite a change. He definitely wasn't taking very good care of himself. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine." Yami muttered, closing the door, but not before Tom heard his last few angry words, "But Bakura won't."

Three Months Later

Yami opened the little door of his post office box to find junk mail, a bill, and a letter stamped with the hospital's insignia, his name scrawled on the front in a familiar handwriting. Heart suddenly speeding up, he tore open the envelope. He hadn't heard from Bakura at all since his arrest, except for a birthday card in June. Now it was the end of July. He hadn't seen Bakura since the day in the hospital that he'd tried to kill himself. To get a letter from him was unexpected, but welcome.

Yami-

Hope you're well and got your birthday card. I told the nurse, Reia, to pick it out, so I hope she didn't go get anything too cutesy. Anyway, I asked the police, the Lords of the Universe, if I could write you, and they said sure, but they'd be reading it. They're still convinced I'm going to find some way to escape, and that you're going to help me. Paranoid idiots, I swear.

Things are okay here. I'm nearly done with the initial physical therapy stuff. My leg's healed up fine they said and I can walk around with only one crutch and a brace now. Let me tell you, after three months of bedpans and escorts, it's really nice to be able to walk to the bathroom whenever I want. The reason I'm still at the hospital is because if I even fell, I might screw myself up again, and you know jail isn't the safest place, so they've kept me here. Otherwise, I'm fine. Thought you'd just like to know. I mean, if you hadn't found me that night, I might have gotten off worse than just one busted leg and a couple other scrapes.

I guess I should tell you the truth. The police reckon I'd be okay if I stayed in the jail's infirmary, since I can walk now and my bones are healed well enough that if I fell, it wouldn't be an emergency. So next week I'm leaving the hospital and going off to jail for real, and the trial will start soon. The good news is that they might let visitors there. It could be worse. They told me about how Tom came and talked to them, they seemed to think it was amusing. But it was nice of you to give it a good try to clear my name. I doubt it'll work, they've got this big-shot lawyer coming from Tokyo to testify against me. The court's appointed me a crappy one that's utterly useless. Let's face it, we know which will win, and I don't think it's really right that everything seems to be stacked against me for some reason, even a supposedly "fair" trial…but, maybe this is karma coming back on me, you know, for all that stuff before. You know what I'm talking about.

Which is why I'm writing this in the first place, besides the fact that I was bored, I just wanted you to know that at least this whole thing will be over with soon. Maybe they'll let you come visit in the jail, if you'd like to. I appreciate everything you've done for me, and I guess I'm just sorry. I'm sorry to have dragged you into this. I'm sorry to have made you worry. I'm sorry you got poisoned and beat up by Blair, and I'm sorry I put you through so much. I might not have a lot of time left to say it. I realize now I waited a little too long and I don't suppose just saying it is enough to make up for everything I put you through, but it can't hurt. Take care Yami,

-Bakura

Yami took a step back to brace himself against the wall. One week, that was all the time there was left. He'd known for a long time that eventually this day would come, but he'd put off acknowledging it. Doing that only made him feel guilty because he'd promised to save Bakura, and he had spent the last three months doing nothing of any use. Sure, they'd tried to track down other Compound members, but to no avail. Obviously they others were hiding themselves well. They'd searched the bunker a second time for a way to control the laser, but that had turned up empty. The ruins of the compound had produced a few scorched bones, but anything that might have identified the bits of skeletons had been incinerated. And now there was only a week left before Bakura would go to jail. And after that, the trial, and they knew what the verdict would be…poor Bakura, locked up. He'd never survive in there, Yami knew it. He'd try to kill himself the first day, and he'd probably be laughing like a lunatic while doing so. Bakura was so dramatic like that. If there was only one thing the white-haired spirit cared about, it was his pride.

He clenched his fist, crumpling the letter in his hand. How could this have happened, how was it possible there was no way to stop it? He got to his feet. He knew he wasn't welcome in the hospital, but suddenly he had an overwhelming desire to see Bakura. Not even to talk to him, just to see him, just to see if he was looking better now. Yami knew there'd be guards keeping an eye on the former-thief, but he considered that maybe there'd be less people there in the evening, and so he might be able to catch a glimpse of Bakura then. So he waited till 6:30, then headed off to the hospital, and walked quietly down the hall, trying to look as if he belonged there. But no sooner than he'd reached the hall Bakura was on, when one of the guards walked by carrying a cup of coffee and recognized him.

"Hey, aren't you Yami Atemu?"

"Maybe." Yami replied guardedly, feeling his heart sink.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"I know." Yami glanced in the direction of Bakura's room. The guard must have noticed because he took a step forward and said, "You'd better clear out Yami, you're not supposed to be here, and you don't need to be in any more trouble than you already are. There's no visitors allowed, only police and medical staff."

Yami still lingered, not really wanting to turn around and leave without having accomplished anything. The officer shook his head. "Look man, I don't want to get you in trouble. If you won't leave, I'll have to use force. Now please go before anyone else finds out you're here."

"Fine, fine." Yami shrugged and turned, walking back down the hall dejectedly. Of course, he'd expected that to happen, so it wasn't as if he ought to be too disappointed, but he was anyway. On his way out of the parking lot, he spotted the head officer from that day when Bakura'd been arrested. Worried about being seen, he ducked down behind a car as the man and one of the deputies passed.

"…sure to get that promotion now." He heard the deputy say. Yami blinked and peered over the side of the car in time to hear the officer reply, sounding irritated

"For sure. You'd think that for all the years I've been working for that police force, they'd have advanced me by now. I guess it doesn't matter, now that I've caught a five-time murderer, it's guaranteed…"

"He hasn't been found guilty yet, you know."

"Yeah, yeah…" the man waved his hand and as they walked away, Yami heard his last few sentences: "…Kid's gonna be found guilty. He's a murderer, plain and simple. No one actually cares about what happens to a worthless person like him, and it's not like I'd keep any evidence around that he was innocent anyway!"

Yami dropped to the ground, feeling something very heavy settle in his stomach. So that was why everything had seemed so 'rigged'! Because it WAS rigged! And that crap about "no one caring" about Bakura…it sounded very familiar. It was almost the exact same thing that he'd heard Bakura say. No wonder that the thief sounded so depressed the last time Yami saw him. Probably from day one that officer had been drilling it into his head that no one was on his side. That would explain Bakura's statement about no one caring if he'd died or not. The police couldn't have known what they were doing, but they'd hit Bakura in his most secret and yet also his weakest point…his fear of being left alone again.

Yami had to force himself to his feet, angry beyond belief. All that work had been pointless from the beginning. Just because one stuck-up person had to use the situation for his own gain, Bakura'd been guaranteed a guilty charge from the start. Probably if that officer wasn't the head of his case, Bakura would've had a fair chance to fight. He thought, furious. He might never have even been arrested. If it weren't for that single sonuvabitch messing everything up, he'd probably be free-

Quite suddenly the answer came to him. A few months before he'd have slapped himself and thought himself crazy for the notion, but now…it seemed perfectly obvious. To give Bakura a last chance at a fair trial, he had to get rid of the person standing in Bakura's way. And to get rid of someone…

It was ten at night. Yami sat in his car, rubbing his sleeve up and down the barrel of Bakura's prized Uzi, trying to use up some time. He was in a parking lot not far from the house of Androu Tanaka, the, (in Yami's opinion), heartless snake that was preventing Bakura's freedom. He was waiting till the street quieted down, so that he'd be less likely to be seen. He was wearing a long coat to conceal the gun, but even that didn't completely hide it on his small frame, so he didn't want to go walking around while people might still see him. So he was basically just trying to waste some time.

Ever since Bakura had given him the Uzi, he'd gotten it out several times and sat, and merely stared at it as if it was going to give him some sort of answer to an unspoken question. It seemed strange, the idea of aiming it at someone and shooting them. Although he'd killed his own fair share of people in his day, he'd used magic to do it, and anyway, he'd been pretty pissed off at them. Using a gun, on a stranger that you had nothing against, seemed impossible to Yami; yet somehow Bakura had killed five of them with this very one, all to protect him. Just to keep him safe, Bakura'd given up his own wants and own freedoms…just to protect someone that he'd never thought would be able to understand why he'd done it.

Thinking this now, Yami only felt more certain that what he was doing out here wasn't reckless or pointless. He pushed open the door and tucked the weapon away under his coat, closing the door and striding off in the direction of the neighborhood nearby.

He settled himself in some decorative bushes, not ten feet from the next house over. All the buildings seemed to press in around him, which was unsettling to say the least. He kept his eye on a large window, going over what was the best plan of action. Aiming was out of the question. Bakura himself had once said machine guns were not easy to aim, and only an expert such as himself would have the knowledge needed for it. He'd just have to take a guess where to shoot, and if nothing else, put a scare into the man.

Through the window Yami could see a round table with a lamp on it, and the corner of what looked like a large framed picture. The room looked so normal. To pass time, he started to wonder what it would be like to be standing inside that room, to be the person that was shot. To be going about a perfectly normal evening before…

He shook his head and forced himself to stop thinking about that. It had given him a hard feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was nerves, or fear, or even guilt. And he knew he could get up and leave at any moment. But he couldn't make himself. He'd come this far, and the mental image of Bakura lying in the hospital after having tried to kill himself overpowered all his other thoughts. He'd probably tried to kill himself because of everything that officer had been telling him. No one cares about you. No one will stand up for you. You're worthless… A person that treated other people that way deserved to die. Yami had no doubts about that.

At that moment, someone walked past the window. Yami took one glance and identified it as the jerk he'd see just that afternoon, gloating about his prospects. He didn't let himself take time to think, he raised the gun and aimed the barrel toward the window. His hands, which had been shaking only moments before, were now so steady he could have sworn they'd frozen. Time slowed down to a ridiculous pace, to the point it too was nearly stopped dead. He narrowed his eyes at the man and pulled the trigger twice.

And suddenly, time began again.

Bakura was awoken around midnight by two things: the first being a strange dream in which Yami, his face somewhat pale but his eyes resolute, kept repeating he'd done "it" for Bakura's sake; and the second being loud shouting and yelling and people running up and down the halls outside.

But before he could shout back at them that even psychopathic murderers and would-be international terrorists need their eight hours of sleep, the door burst open and one of the lower-ranked police officers came charging in, grabbing Bakura by the shoulders and yelling,

"Alright, who did it?"

Bakura merely stared back, puzzled. "Ne?"

"Don't give me any of this 'ne' crap, I want to know who did it! I know you were in on it. Now who was it?"

"Who was what?" Bakura asked, more confused than ever.

"Who shot Tanaka-sama?"

"Who the hell is Tanaka?"

"The main officer in your case, now tell me who it was that shot him!"

Bakura furrowed his brow and shoved the man back. "Look man, first of all, hands off. That shoulder just finally got finished healing. Second, I don't know what you're talking about or what you've been smoking, but you can't blame me for it this time. I've been in here asleep, and in case you've forgotten, you've forbidden anyone from coming here and visiting me."

The officer jutted out his chin and scowled. A few of the other officers walked in and one grabbed the young deputy's arm.

"Look, we can't assume he knew anything."

"It was a sub-machine gun, and Tanaka-sama was the head officer in his case, he must have had something to do with it." The deputy argued, clearly determined to have some justice for his superior.

"It must be nice," Bakura said pointedly, "to know what's going on."

He was ignored as another officer and one of the Americans-whom were obviously still set on finding someone to blame for the laser attacks, and had thus not yet returned to America-joined the argument.

"We can't assume anything until the ballistics tests come back." One said.

"Are you sureBakura hasn't had any contact with anyone recently?"

"They set up a roadblock but didn't catch anyone, the person must have had their own car and escaped before anyone else got there."

"At least he wasn't killed…"

"No, but it's really critical, there's no certainty that he'll live to tell us if he saw anything."

"What? What?" The American kept asking.

"I wish someone would tell me what happened, since you all seem to think I'm involved." Bakura tried again, raising his voice a bit more.

"There's the chance it could be a copycat shooter too, hoping to pin it on the real one."

"Just wait till the ballistics tests are done, then we'll know if it's the same gun."

"If it is, then-"

"WOULD SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Bakura finally bellowed. Everyone, including the Americans, must have recognized at least one of the words because they all turned around to look at him that time. Finally one seemed to take pity and said,

"The main officer in your case was shot two hours ago in his home by an unknown gunman. He's in critical condition and there's no certainty he'll survive the night. So far we know it was a sub-machine gun that used a silencer, but that's all."

Bakura blinked, but wisely said nothing in reply.

Eventually they left him alone to go back to sleep as they went to check on their injured comrade, but Bakura couldn't sleep now. Instead he was remembering something that Yami had told him three months before, the day he'd tried to kill himself:

"I'll do whatever it takes, no matter how tough it'll get, no matter what anyone says, I'll do whatever I have to…"

Bakura shook his head. No way, Yami would never shoot someone. That honor-obsessed freak? He wouldn't try to kill someone just to help me out. I don't care what he said, that crosses the lines of his morals. Yami's morals mean more to him than I do. I know he said he'd do anything, but he would never toss aside the common lines of right and wrong. I know he wouldn't. Besides, he can't possibly be that stupid.

Finally he was able to lull himself into something of a twilight sleep, but not before recalling his dream just before he'd woken up. Maybe that had been more than just a dream. Could Yami have done something so drastic? Was this some type of a plot to set him free, or could the pharaoh have simply lost control of his sanity? It was all too much. In the morning. Bakura promised himself. I'll deal with all this in the morning.

But in the morning, at 9:00, the police received the results of the ballistics testing, and no less than five officers burst into Bakura's room to confront him, giving Bakura no time for thinking.

"These match the bullets from the other murders."

"You confessed to those, it was your gun you said!"

"Who did you give it to?"

"Did you coerce this shooting too?"

Bakura, who was half-awake, heard only fractions of the questions due to a feeling of stuffiness in his head. Their words were all jumbled together and because he was already cranky from lack of sleep, he answered them by screaming swear words as loudly as possible in alternating languages. Eventually the fun of that wore off and he finally consented to listen to what they were telling him. It seemed that someone using the same gun as had been used in the other five murders had struck again, eliminating the possibility of a copycat murderer. The officer was still hanging on, but drifting someplace between death and life.

The knowledge that it was his own gun shocked Bakura. As far as he knew, that meant the shooter had to be either Jared or Yami. Yet the idea of either of them trying to kill someone was absurd. Jared liked his pistols for collective purposes, he didn't possess the predisposition to kill anyone, and he knew very little of machine guns.And the idea that Yami was the shooter was laughable.

"You said that you used your Uzi to kill those people." The officer in front of him said, fed up. "Now tell me who it was that's using your gun now."

Bakura's mind raced. On the off-chance that it WAS Yami or Jared that was the shooter, Bakura didn't want to see either of them get in trouble. So instead of answering, he buried his face in his hands and burst into hysterical sobs.

The officers all looked startled and each stepped back. "What? What is it?" The one that had questioned him asked.

"Y-you're all such j-jerks, talking about m-m-my Uzi that w-way!" Bakura howled into his palms, his bangs successfully hiding the fact that no tears were coming out. "W-when I don't know where it is, a-and it's p-p-probably being used by some…some idiot that doesn't un-understand it! I lost it the night of the explosion, I d-d-don't know where it is, h-how dare you remind m-m-me about that! I hate you! M-my poor Uzi, who knows wh-where it is. Wh-what if the person that has it d-d-doesn't understand how…how to treat it? What if-"

"Okay, okay, geez." The officer looked disturbed. "I'm sorry I asked." Taking another step back he muttered to his partner, loudly enough for everyone else to hear, "Psychopath."

"Don't worry," another deputy whispered back. "The psychologist here couldn't figure him out either. He tried to give her this story about how he's 5000 years old and used to be a tomb robber in Egypt."

His face hidden from their view, Bakura smiled to himself. Oh, if you only knew.

"Well, if he doesn't know who it was…"

"It is possible someone else might have picked his gun up. Come to think of it, do any of you remember if he had it on him when he came to the hospital?"

"When they were getting him and his unconscious friend into the ambulance, I don't think he had it with him."

"Could it have fallen off? There was a lot of smoke, it was hard to see…"

"It's a sub-machine gun, you think we would have heard it hit the ground."

"Well, the spiky-haired one was unconscious, wasn't he? He couldn't have taken it."

"What about the other guy in the truck?"

"Wait, the one with the weird hair, he woke up."

"He did?"

"Yeah, remember, they were taking so damn long with Bakura that the other one…what was his name anyway?"

"Yamu, Yumi, something like that."

"It's pronounced 'Yami'."

"Right, him, he woke up, I remember he was shouting up a storm about riding in the ambulance. He wanted to ride with Bakura."

"You know, that's a good point, and he was the same one that Tanaka got into a fight with that time here."

"Wasn't he the one that Bakura was writing to the other day?"

"Oh my god…I completely forgot, Yami was here yesterday!"

Bakura abruptly stopped pretending to cry. Yami…was here?

"He was?"

"Yeah, I told him to clear out and he did, but…maybe it was him."

"Ah, maybe he picked the gun up, maybe he thinks he's going to get revenge or something."

"Hey, someone, go to his house, search it from top to bottom." The youngdeputy swung his arm toward the door excitedly. "We'll take care of this whole business for good."

"We need to get a warrant."

"Then go get one!"

"It'll be a day or so at the soonest."

"Just get your butt in gear and go get one!"

"Right, we're on it-" Everyone dashed from the room.

No, Yami… Bakura lifted his face from his hands and looked around wildly. If it was him, if he did it, he'll get arrested too…I've got to do something, I've got to warn him.

He was already reaching for his crutch when he remembered. He was in the hospital, the police guarding his door and he forbidden to have any contact with the outside world. There was no way out, no way to get a message to Yami undetected. He fell back into bed and glanced at the clock. If only there was some way, if only he could just warn Yami, that if he was the shooter, to get out of Domino, or at least hide all the evidence. Only a day or two, how would he be able to get hold of the pharaoh in time to tell him? It was simple…he couldn't.

That morning, Jared sat down with a cup of coffee to watch the news on TV before going into work. Sipping his coffee, he flipped through the various news channels. One was discussing the prices of stocks, another showing a weather forecast, and then he saw one with a "breaking-news" headline across the top. Curious, he set down the remote to watch.

"Ballistics testers this morning were able to confirm the make and model of the weapon, used last night to shoot and seriously injure Androu Tanaka. And they are also able to confirm that the weapon, an Uzi sub-machine gun, type-A, is the same as was used in the five horrifying murders that Domino saw three months ago. The suspect for these murders is in custody for these, as well as suspected terrorism charges, however now the questions arise. Could he have an accomplice? Or was it all a story he made up? Could the murderer still be loose? We now go live to our ballistics expert-"

Jared choked on his coffee and began coughing, staring in disbelief at the screen.

"Yami, you're as bad as Bakura!"

To Be Continued…

Author's Notes:

My writer's block is pretty much gone…huzzah! We can all be glad because we've entered the ending zone, and I can't screw this up now. Two chapters left to go, and some pretty big problems to do something about. At least there shall be some excitement. This chapter wasn't as good as I'd have liked it, but at least I pulled myself together enough to make it decent. Look forward to an exciting one next time!

Androu Tanaka…It sounds a bit like Andrew. It sounds like the name that some big, manly-man sort of guy would have. The guy was a jerk anyway. Whenever I create OCs, they usually die…anyone besides me notice that? Blair, Louis, the five OCs that Bakura killed…hmmn, Jared and Tomoya better keep an eye on themselves. Oh, and about Tomoya's name…it came from an accident in Shounen Jump, when they put 'Tomoya' as Jounouchi's first name instead of "Katsuya". Good thing they fixed that, as it does not fit Jounouchi at all…but it works as a good name for the OC.

Yami said he'd do anything. And now he's done it. Gosh, trying to imagine Yami shooting someone is odd. He just seems like such a nice person. (Though, we all agree, Yami alwayswas a little bit of a smartass…the guy's got pride.) But then again, he was driven to this. His original plan didn't include people getting hurt. I guess he felt trapped. Besides, he was very mad. It's kinda cute, really, how he got so upset. I love to write forupset and lovesick charrahs.I enjoy a good romance like this.It began as a mystery story and has now become…something strange. I hope it's not going too far off track. I mean, this is still tied to the main sl. The main sl was supposed to be Bakura trying to keep Yami safe, dealing with what exactly is the "right" or "wrong" things to do, with various sidebars of course. Now it's sort of backwards, but it's still kinda the same…isn't it? Bakura'll come backin as the 'hero' inthe next chapter.I can't believe I made it to chapter 21! It's insane. Bakura and Yami are insane. I'm insane. Everyone still reading this is insane. We're all insane together. I'm gonna go make us an "insane pride" flag.

Replies:

Hershey-Kiss: On one hand…yeah, the plot was very, very vague. On the other…it was a fairly sucky chapter anyway, so I doubt anyone besides me would pick up on much of it anyway. :shrug: O.o Your I-pod sounds like something that would end up being chucked on the floor if I ever met it. Or, perhaps it is merely the manual being stupid. (User's manuals are, 98 percent of the time, useless.)

You Know Us: Well, you were pretty darn close…you just know me too well. I can't hide anything! (And you were right on the money with the original writing of this. In the first draft of this chapter, Yami shot the guy to try to convince the police that the 'real' murderer was still out there. You just know me waaaayyyy too well.) xD Aw well, I hope you two enjoyed the twist here. Michelle should be pretty happy, she got Yami and an Uzi all in the same chapter. Pretty spiffy, yes:niko: I know! I want some Tonfa Blasters. They're very fun, handheld, and make a decent fashion statement to boot. Can't beat that. Gomen, but torture is just what I do. xD

Fear of Falling: Yeah for Hershey's favourites list, ne? xD Darkshipping fics are hard to come by…I'm glad I could provide a good one! As for those questions…all in good time, my friend.

(Oh, and I made a mistake. It's a sunrise, not a sunset in episode 184. Gomen! Hey, they look a lot alike, alright…) Got nothing else to say, (Mad tired.)…one and a half more weeks of school to go, (O.o I swear, the last weeks feel like they've been five years)…I'm going to go preview the Lost Millennium expansion in a few weeks, (Yatta!)...I haven't killed my Windows Movie Maker yet, ('Tis truly, truly a miracle)…

I'll see you next week!