A/N: Sorry about the day delay, but yesterday my beta Phoenixqueen and I decided to take a breather because of our moods and so we made each other write one-shots. If you feel like reading dark fics, go ahead and check them out...just go to our profile pages. They are called "Where We Go" and "Suffer With Him". Now, on with the story.

Part Nineteen:

Edmund sat beside Peter's pallet, his head propped up on his hand and eyes locked on his brother's still too-pale face. It was the dead of night and the High King was feverish, tossing and twisting, at times kicking the blanket from his body and at other times clenching it to him like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

As Peter whimpered again from jarring his wounds, Edmund reached forward and put a restraining hand on his brother's chest, careful not to irritate the wound given to him by Jadis. The blonde calmed immediately at the touch, and the younger King shifted closer so he could keep his hand where it was perched.

"How is he?" a soft, low voice asked.

With a start, Edmund craned his neck around and saw Aslan standing in the tent entrance. "Aslan," he said quietly, checking to make sure he wasn't disturbing Peter. "He is still feverish. I had hoped it would pass before now."

The great lion nodded his head and stepped closer, his large paws making no sound on the hard-packed ground under the tent. He leaned down to look at Peter himself, studying the pinched expression.

As Edmund watched, Aslan breathed gently on Peter's chest and the effect was immediate. The pained look on the High King's face softened and Peter actually sighed. The younger King reached out and could feel the heat had already diminished some.

He smiled. "Thank you, Aslan. He's already been through so much, I hate to see him suffer more." The dark-haired boy looked to the lion and asked, "I've been wondering…well, I think most of us have. Why couldn't you come to us sooner?"

The lion sighed wearily. "It was not because I did not wish to come," he said. "But because it was not possible until your sister found me and asked for my aid. There are things about Narnia that are quite complicated, young Edmund. Be thankful that I was able to help at all and do not dwell on what could have happened if I had been able to come sooner."

Edmund nodded and returned his attention to Peter, who although cooler, appeared to be in the middle of an unpleasant dream if his head flopping from side to side was any indication. With a frown, the young man leaned down and whispered, "Shhh, Peter, you're safe. Please calm down before you hurt yourself."

Edmund was relieved when Peter calmed and settled deeper into his bedding, turning his head away from the center of the tent and toward the outside wall. Sighing, the younger King turned back to Aslan.

"It's been so hard, watching him struggle," Edmund said as Aslan sat beside him. "Every time I think he's going to be all right, something else happens. Either he's wounded again, or he loses feeling in his legs. It's horrible, Aslan. I don't know how much more he can take…or how much more I can take."

There was silence for a moment before the golden lion spoke. "Your brother is strong, but he has many trials still to come. As do we all. You can never know what your future holds, Edmund. He may yet have more physical ailments to contend with, and so may you. It is impossible to say."

Edmund turned to face Aslan as the lion continued. "If you dwell on your fears for him, they will overwhelm you. You will spend each day wondering, worrying, and forgetting to live until one day, you will find your time is up and you have nothing but sorrow and pain to remember. Don't let that man be you, Edmund."

Taking a deep breath, Edmund nodded. "I see what you are saying, it's just so hard not to worry about it all. When Peter told me he couldn't move his legs after the raid, I just about died. My heart really did stop. What if it happens again?"

Aslan brushed up against Edmund's shoulder. "If it happens again, you and your sisters will be there for him. And as a family, you will get through it. There are those who suffer greater and who still manage to start many days with a smile."

Edmund thought back to the men he'd seen returning from war without limbs. The quadriplegics confined to a life of stillness. There was no hope they would regain their mobility. Perhaps it wouldn't be impossible to cope if Peter were to lose feeling again. It would never be pleasant, but it could be worse.

The conversation might have continued, but a cry broke the silence in the tent. "No! Ed!"

Aslan and the younger King watched as Peter's eyes snapped open suddenly, a look of utter horror on his face until his gaze locked on Edmund. "You're all right," the blonde whispered. "I…I saw. But no, you're all right. It was just a dream."

Wiping a bead of sweat from Peter's forehead, Edmund shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine. What did you think happened to me, Peter? Did you have a nightmare? About Beruna?"

The elder Pevensie shook his head slowly, wincing as his head swam angrily at the action. "No, not Beruna, Edmund. It was something…else. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Speaking of that which you fear often helps you overcome it."

Peter's eyes jerked past Edmund and took in the lion standing in the center of the tent watching him quietly. "Aslan!" he said, a small smile crossing his face. "I am sorry I passed out on you. It was quite rude of me."

The lion chuckled merrily. "Don't worry about that, young Peter. I did not take offense." He sobered slightly. "You should take Edmund up on his offer. I will return later, we have much to speak about. Better to leave it until you are feeling better."

Peter nodded and gazed at Edmund, eyes unreadable in the wane light of the tent. Aslan left as quietly as he had entered and Edmund looked at Peter, waiting for him to speak.

Gulping, Peter almost didn't heed the lion's advice. It was painful, remembering his dream. He wasn't sure he could tell Edmund. He was thankful the younger boy didn't push him, just silently sat and let Peter decide when, and if, he would speak.

Edmund smiled and put a hand on his brother's arm. "Don't worry, take your time, Peter. I know you have things in your memories that I could never even imagine and it must be very hard to talk of many of them."

Peter looked over at Edmund, peering sideways through the hair brushing over his eyes. "Do you remember the corporal I would write home about? Arty?" Upon Edmund's nod, Peter continued. "I never told you, but he looked just like you. An older version of you, like our first time in Narnia." He gulped. "I…he was killed the day I was injured."

Edmund sucked in a breath, realizing what Peter was most likely going to say next. "You dreamt it was I who died. Didn't you, Peter?"

A shaky nod was all Peter could manage before he felt a sob threatening to erupt. He tried to hold it down, he had done more crying lately than he had done in his whole life and it was beginning to get embarrassing. They were going to have to start calling him High King Peter the Tearful if he kept it up.

"Tell me, Peter," Edmund whispered, leaning against his brother's pallet and resting his head beside Peter's. They couldn't meet each other's eyes, but they were close enough to hear each others' breathing and it was comforting to both.

Peter took a deep breath, and finally began to speak.

This couldn't be happening. Edmund wasn't here so he surely couldn't be lying on the ground in a rapidly spreading pool of blood pouring from a gaping neck wound. Peter blinked his eyes as he crouched to avoid enemy fire. When he opened them, it was still Edmund's face and Edmund's eyes that stared up at him from the muddy ground.

"P…P…"

Shaking, Peter reached out and grabbed the groping hand on the earth beside him.

"P…P…"

Edmund couldn't seem to form words. He could only force out a "p" sound and Peter, with a shaking hand, tried to staunch the blood flowing from the young boy's wound.

"Edmund? You aren't here. You can't be here. You're at home with Mum, Lucy and Susan. You aren't here, so how can you be dying?" he said, shaking his head in denial. But the image still didn't change and a look of pain crossed the dying Edmund's face.

"Y…fault. Knew." croaked the dark-haired boy, accusation blatant in those dark eyes, even though the words couldn't quite get themselves out. Peter recoiled as if he had been hit, sitting back on his heels as bullets kicked up dirt around him. He was heedless to the danger he was in.

Shaking his head vehemently, he gripped the shaking hand in his own even tighter. "No, no. I didn't know. I suspected. I didn't know. Please, Ed, please."

But the other boy's eyes grew darker, almost black, and he started to move. Peter fell back in the mud, surprised, as the mortally wounded Edmund suddenly seemed to have strength and sat up, blood still dripping freely.

In horror, Peter watched him raise his sidearm. "Should have been you."

The gun went off.

There was silence in the tent for a moment before Edmund lifted his head and looked into Peter's eyes. "Peter, it isn't your fault. You have to believe that. You could have told them a hundred times over what you thought and they would not have listened."

His brother nodded mutely. He knew that, he really did, but it didn't make it any easier. He had dreamt about Arty many times over the months since that fateful day. This was the first time Arty had worn Edmund's visage, however, and it was all the more disturbing.

"It felt so real, even though I just knew it couldn't be, Ed," he said quietly. "I'm always so worried that I'm going to lose you, and it's going to be my fault. That it'll be because of something I did."

Edmund was silent. He wasn't sure what he could say to his brother to ease his worries. But he knew he had his own, so he shared them. "Do you know how guilty I felt issuing that challenge?" he suddenly asked. "I was putting you into a fight I wasn't entirely sure you could win. All I could think was, 'What happens if he dies? It would be all my fault'."

Peter shook his head. "No, it would have been Miraz's fault, Ed, not yours. You didn't fight me."

Edmund looked up. "And you didn't kill Arty. The Germans in those woods did. So how come you seem to think that's your fault? Put it behind you Peter, or you aren't ever going to heal."

There was a grumble from his brother, which Edmund had to lean closer to hear. "When did you grow up, Ed?"

Laughing, the younger King smiled. "Well, there was that first time in Narnia, you know."

Just then, the tent flap was pushed carefully to the side and a short figure ducked in. Long dress sweeping the ground, Lucy stared at her smiling brothers. "Have you two been up all night?" she asked, stepping closer. "You need to sleep, Edmund. You haven't, I'll bet, watching over Peter."

She saw her older brother look at her other brother with a frown. "You haven't slept, Ed?" Peter asked, eyes narrowed and now noticing the dark circles around Edmund's eyes and the weary set to his shoulders. "Get out of here! Go! Lucy can watch over poor old Peter for a while, right, Lu?"

He broke into a wide yawn as he finished speaking. Lucy came forward and plopped down in the chair beside his bed, nodding. "Yup, I think I can watch over a sleeping person well enough. I'll just clean up the bits of drool every so often and we'll be perfectly fine."

She glared expectantly at Edmund who raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Got it, go to sleep. Righto, High King Peter and Queen Lucy." If he was honest with himself, it was getting very hard to keep his eyes open and he could use a rest.

As soon as Edmund had ducked out, Lucy turned to Peter. He was looking at her, eyes heavy with sleep. "We have to talk, don't we, Lu?" he asked quietly, blinking against the pull of slumber. He focused on Lucy's hand as she gently pulled the blanket up over him.

"No, Peter. We have time, you sleep. I can't have you falling asleep in mid-sentence," she replied. He must have been very tired because he didn't even try to protest, just turned slightly and closed his eyes, content that Lucy would watch over him.

Leaning back in her seat, she let her mind float back to what Susan and Caspian had told her of Peter's duel with Miraz. Part of her wished she had been there so she could have given him cordial or helped him somehow. Ed had fixed him up, Su had saved his life, even Caspian had been able to help him at some point. But not her. No, she hadn't even been there to cheer him on.

Sighing, she glanced at her brother's peaceful face and imagined it screwed up in pain. Shaking her head of the thought, she tried to imagine how magnificent he must have looked, dressed in his shining armor, sword held high as he faced Miraz. Yes, that was a much better image than the bloodied, collapsing Peter she had seen earlier.

Lucy was no stranger to injury, not even to injuries her brothers sustained. But it always hurt and it never got easier. She couldn't believe he had been able to find the strength to go on and continue the duel after being hit with the crossbow bolt.

He was so strong, she hoped someday she could be even a fraction as strong as her brother. Pulling the blanket up a little higher, she turned slightly as Susan ducked into the tent and came to stand beside her seat.

"How is he?" Susan whispered, putting a light hand on Lucy's shoulder. "I see you kicked Edmund out. He'd have stayed up all night with Peter if you hadn't."

Lucy nodded. "They were awake and talking when I came in. Peter conked out pretty quickly after Edmund left. I've just been sitting and thinking about the duel and everything you guys told me about it. I just can't believe it. It's so extraordinary."

Susan chuckled. "Well, Aslan did name him 'the Magnificent', Lu. It was a fitting choice, don't you think?" She sobered when Lucy frowned. "What? You have that look on your face again. The one where you are upset about something."

Lucy huffed. "Stop reading my face, Su. Perhaps it is nothing and I just have a funny face on?" She peered sidelong at Susan, who wasn't buying it. "Oh, Su. I was just thinking that sometimes I don't feel very 'Valiant'. That's all. It's nothing, I'll get over it."

Susan nodded before speaking. "You aren't alone, you know. In sometimes wondering if you were named properly." She looked over at Peter. "I know even Peter feels it sometimes, and I'm sure Edmund does too. But when it really counts, we are Gentle, Valiant, Just and Magnificent, Lu."

Lucy leaned over until she was resting against Susan. "You really think so?"

Susan laughed. "I saw a pretty Valiant Queen across that river earlier, Lu. Yes, I think so."

"And I agree. I would not have named you something you were not, dear one."

Lucy turned with a smile. "Aslan! I didn't hear you come in."

He chuckled. "I do that well, Lucy." He stopped beside her. "Is there a reason you continue to doubt yourself, even after I told you to have faith in yourself as you have it in me?"

She frowned, ashamed. "I don't know if there is really a reason, Aslan. I just feel like it sometimes. I suppose until I talk to Peter and get things off my chest, I might continue to feel it. I can't really explain it."

He nudged her gently before lying down behind her, his great body stretched out on the floor of the tent. "Would it help if I told you I have faith in you? After all, I wouldn't put the fate of my people into just anyone's hands."

Lucy smiled. "It helps a bit, yes. And I know that, Aslan, I really do. I'll try to do better."

The great lion nodded. "It is all I can ask of you, Lucy. After all, even I have doubted myself."

"You, Aslan?" Susan turned to him. "Really? Can I ask when? Would you tell us?"

The great lion laughed out loud at that, but was careful to keep the sound quiet enough so as not to wake Peter. "I suppose I could tell you," he said.

The chanting and frantic beating of the drums was loud in his ears as he stepped forward, alone now that he had sent Susan and Lucy off and away – this wasn't something for young, innocent eyes.

As he padded toward the Stone Table, with Jadis standing atop it with a gleeful smile spread across her face and her followers gathered around jeering, his thoughts turned to the two young boys he had left at the head of a grand army. Had he left them to an impossible task? Could two young boys, who had so recently known nothing of Narnia -- of centaurs, fauns, talking animals or greedy witches – could these boys lead an army?

He had watched Peter face Maugrim and he had seen the doubt in those blue eyes. Had seen the amateur hold he had used when wielding Rhindon. Oreius had taken on the task to train the brothers, but really, how much had they learned in so short a time?

The drums and chants grew louder as he drew closer. His heart started to pain him as he thought of the young Daughters of Eve. Alone in the forest, too close to the witch's army for comfort. Would they be safe or would Jadis' followers find them and destroy those beautiful souls and take those young lives?

"Behold, the great lion!" Jadis called out as he entered the midst of the sneering and laughing creatures surrounding the Stone Table. He felt fear, not just for himself, but also for the children, his friends, his people. Again, he wondered…was he doing the right thing? Even if the Deep Magic worked as it was meant to, would it be in time or would he wake to find all dead and Jadis victorious?

He was momentarily jolted from his thoughts when he was hit with enough force to knock him down on his side and a grimace of pain crossed his face. He could hear more jeering and he clenched his teeth as he was tied, front paws together and back paws together. His eyes were sad as he was muzzled like one would expect a vicious animal to be.

Aslan took some solace in the fact the torment would be over soon. But he heard the witch call out, "Wait. Let him first be shaved!" And then he felt the sharp blades of countless creatures hacking at his mane, nicking his skin and tossing tufts of bright gold hair about and amongst themselves.

On Jadis' command, he was hauled atop the table and tied down. Unable to move, he could only shift his eyes around and take in the creatures around him. They would give the four children no quarter if they met them in battle, and again, he feared to know if he had done the right thing.

"You know, Aslan, I'm a little disappointed in you," Jadis whispered in his ear. "Did you honestly think by all this you could save the human traitor? You are giving me your life and saving no one. So much for love."

His heart beat heavily in his chest and he felt the beginning of deep despair. If it was all for nothing…no, he couldn't think that. He had to believe. He had to have faith he had made the right decision and all would work out in the end.

Above him, he heard Jadis call out: "Tonight…the Deep Magic will be appeased." Yes, but not the way you think, Jadis, he thought as she continued. "But tomorrow, we will take Narnia forever!"

She was brimming with excitement, lust for power and blood and Aslan knew this was it. He looked out beyond the fell creatures and toward the beauty of Narnia's forest. And locked eyes with the wide and frightened ones of young Lucy. There was sorrow in his own as he realized she will witness his execution. He firmed his resolve. It will work. It has to.

For her.

For her sister and for her brothers.

For Narnia.

"In that knowledge, despair…and die…"

The knife fell and there was pain. And then there was darkness.

Lucy and Susan said nothing for long moments as they studied the beloved face, the rich golden eyes which held a hint of sadness in them. Then, the youngest Queen wrapped her arms around the lion and hugged him tightly. "I never realized, Aslan. You thought about all of us. Didn't you think of yourself?"

He relaxed in her caring embrace. "I did, dear one. But, like you, and your sister, and your brothers, I was more concerned for those I loved. No one is without doubts, from time to time. But you have to let them go, as I did. And I know you will, Lucy. I have faith in you."

The three turned their attention to the slumbering Peter and remained together, although Susan and Lucy soon found themselves curling up and falling asleep against Aslan. The great lion was content to watch over his young monarchs until morning.

A bright ray of morning sun peeked through the tent flap – and shone right into Peter's eyes. He groaned and pried one eye open, raising a hand to shield his face before opening the other.

It must still be really early, he thought to himself, noticing that Lucy, Susan and Aslan were asleep, curled together on cushions beside his bed. Though, it appeared Lucy at least was stirring.

"Peter?" she asked groggily, wiping sleep from the corner of her eyes and stretching like a cat. "Are you feeling all right? Can I get you anything?" She looked at him as he studied her, a look of contemplation on his face.

"There is something," he said quietly so he didn't wake Su or Aslan. "I'd like to go outside, but I'm not so sure I'm steady enough yet. Would you help me?" He extended a hand, deliberately allowing it to shake a bit, even though he was pretty sure he could have gone out alone with only a little difficulty.

Lucy smiled and stood, brushing herself off and grasped Peter's outstretched hand. "Course, Peter. Where would you like to go? I'm sure the river is beautiful in the morning."

He smiled back and nodded. "The river it is, Lu."

Peter grunted and scrunched his nose when Lucy levered him up, but managed not to cry out or otherwise indicate he was feeling pain. It was there, but thankfully he did feel quite a bit better than the day before.

"Peter? Are you sure you're all right?" Lucy steadied him when he wavered a bit and he nodded. "Well, okay. We'll go slowly."

Together, the oldest and youngest Pevensies crept from the tent – golden eyes opening and watching as they left. A small smile crossed Aslan's face. There would be healing this morning, hopefully in more ways than one.

It was slow going, but Lucy and Peter soon reached the bank of the river Rush. As soon as they reached it, the latter sank wearily onto a remnant of the destroyed bridge that had been pushed up on the beach.

Lucy sat beside him and together they looked out over the water, squinting lightly against the sunrise glaring off the blue surface. Peter felt Lucy's gaze shifting to him, then to the water, then to him, then to the water…

"Lu," he said in exasperation. "Out with it."

She laughed. "Obvious, am I?"

He turned to her with a small grin. "A bit, yeah." He heaved a sigh. "Something's bothering you. It'll help if you tell me."

Shifting, Lucy turned her eyes back to the river. "I heard you. At the How. Talking to Edmund. You said maybe you deserved to be paralyzed because of all the Narnians who died in the night raid."

Peter swallowed and picked at the wood beneath them distractedly. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he muttered. "It isn't a big deal. I'm all right now."

She shook her head. "But it does matter and it is a big deal, Peter," she said, reaching out and stopping the incessant picking before he could hurt his hand. "I can't stop thinking it's my fault you felt that way. No, don't say anything yet." She held a hand up in front of him and spun until she was sitting sideways on the wood. "I said things I shouldn't have. That I didn't mean. And you took them to heart and felt you were being punished and that it was right. I need you to know it wasn't right. Just like Edmund said."

Peter met her gaze. "I know you didn't mean it Lucy. I think we are both having a problem forgiving ourselves – you for your words and me for my actions." She nodded, picking dirt from her dress. "So, how about this? I'll forgive you for what you think you did wrong."

Lucy frowned. "Huh?"

Peter laughed a little before schooling his features and turning serious. "Lu, you tell me what you need me to forgive you for, all right?"

She didn't hesitate for even a second. "I need you to forgive me for saying those horrible things…and I need you to tell me you don't think you deserved to be paralyzed because you failed, because…you didn't. Deserve it. Or fail."

He sucked in a breath. "Well then," he said, grabbing her hand. "Lucy Pevensie. I forgive you for saying what you did. And…I won't think of my paralysis as deserved punishment anymore."

A broad smile spread across Lucy's face and she squeezed his hand tighter before hugging him gently. "Thanks, Peter," she said. "I just really needed that. I'm not sure why." Drawing back, she looked closely at him and let out a puff of breath. "Now, to try and help you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Help me? With what?"

She smiled. "This guilt trip of yours. You still blame yourself for the night raid and while you might not think your legs were a punishment anymore, you can't go on blaming yourself for the deaths we suffered."

For a moment, she saw a shadow cross Peter's face. Yes, he was still feeling guilty. But what could she say? Unless…

"Do you blame Lieutenant Ramsey for your friend Arty's death?"

Peter looked at her like she'd grown another head. "What? No, why would I?"

Lucy straightened her back and glared at him. "Well, by your reasoning, he should be to blame. He was in charge of that unit and so he should have moved you out sooner. Should have realized there was danger. Should have saved everyone."

Her brother shook his head. "He didn't know, Lu. No one was certain."

She jabbed at his leg with her finger. "Just like you didn't know the raid would fail. Just like you didn't know that Caspian would break from the plan. Your Lieutenant couldn't save everyone just like you couldn't save everyone. Why do you have to hold yourself to a different standard? You are both leaders."

Her brother frowned, but appeared to be thinking on it. "Well, he was only a lieutenant. Not a general. Not a king."

She grunted. "Only, schmonly," she huffed. "Peter, you're splitting hairs here. My point is, things were out of your hands. You had a good plan. It didn't work. The army had a good plan. It didn't work. It's not your fault. It's not their fault. Sometimes, it's no one's fault."

No one's fault? Peter thought on that. Perhaps it was no one's fault. Any number of things done differently might still have yielded the same impact, or any number of things that went wrong could have gone right and they still would have lost. Was he being silly, trying to make it his own fault? Yes, it seemed like he was if even Lucy, a nine-year-old, could see it was not his fault.

A small smile crossed his face now. "Thanks, Lu." He said. "I think I see it now. We're both rather stubborn, aren't we?"

She laughed. "A bit, Peter."

"You two about done with all the blaming and forgiving and blaming and forgiving, and oh, did I mention, blaming and forgiving?"

Edmund laughed at the sour looks his brother and sister gave him at his words, then held out a hand to each of them. "Come on, breakfast. You both need to eat something before we set out for the castle."

Hauling Peter to his feet, and helping Lucy to hers, the three moved to set off toward their tent – two of them with far lighter hearts and minds – but Aslan appeared before them and said quietly, "Peter, a moment, if you could?"

Looking to Lucy and Edmund, Peter nodded. "Go on, I'll be all right and along soon."

They nodded and left their brother in the care of Aslan. For a moment, neither Peter or the lion spoke. They regarded each other from a short distance apart before Peter carefully lowered himself to his knees.

Bowing his head, he said quietly. "I owe you both a great debt of gratitude – and an apology, Aslan," the High King said solemnly. "Thank you for healing me and … I'm very sorry for not believing in you like I should have. From the start."

He looked up when Aslan's mane tickled his face. The lion nudged him and he smiled and hugged him. "You are most welcome, Peter. It was slow in coming, but your belief in me was strong when it returned. But I sense there is something still troubling you."

Peter sat back, his face clouded. "I worry it could happen again," he said. "It took so little for me to lose feeling again and I fear it, Aslan. It's…it's so hard." He looked up into the shining eyes and saw something there that worried him – regret. What could Aslan regret?

"Peter, you are perhaps one of the strongest people I have ever met. Not physically, but your character. You will handle whatever life throws at you, and you will do it magnificently. As hard as it seems. As impossible as it feels. And why is that?"

He waited and Peter thought.

"Because I have my family and my friends," Peter whispered. "They'll always be there to help me if I need it."

Aslan smiled. "Come. Let's eat. I think you know now what you need to know."

Peter grabbed hold of Aslan's powerful shoulder and used it to pull himself to his feet. He kept hold of the lion's mane as they walked slowly and carefully back to camp.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so weary, one might even have spied a small bounce in Peter's step.

A/N: Well, there were just a FEW heart-to-hearts there, huh? Hope they made sense! And to those who are interested, I plan to take this story through to the end of Prince Caspian ( a tad beyond, actually ) and then post a sequel of some sort. I'll be sure to let you know what that new story will be called – when I figure it out.