Title: Drowning In You

Rating: T

Pairing: Arthur/Morgana.

Summary: Someone is drowning young women in Camelot. With no motive and no suspects, Morgana must work out who the murderer is before she becomes the next victim…

Bridget raised the candlestick threateningly and tightened her grip on it. "Come any closer and I'll let you have it and then I'll scream and the guards will come running and you'll be back in the dungeons before you can say Uther Pendragon-"

Morgana held up her hands innocently. "Bridget, stop babbling and put the candlestick down. You'll put someone's eye out with it." She took off her cloak and laid it on the end of the bed before casually combing out her hair and lighting some candles. Gradually the room became bathed in a dim warm glow.

Bridget's stance drooped ever so slightly. "Then you haven't come to kill me?"

"Kill you?" Morgana laughed mirthlessly and took the empty seat at Bridget's dressing table. She stretched her legs out and then casually crossed them, ladylike, at the ankles. "Why on earth would I do that?"

Bridget faltered, unsure if she should really be giving Morgana reasons why she should murder her. "Because...you're possessed by the homicidal spirit of a water demon and that's normally what they like to do?"

"I'm not possessed."

"That's exactly what you would say if you were." Bridget shook her head incredulously. "I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you; I should be screaming for the guards right now."

"But you aren't and you won't, which is why I chose you. I knew you'd hear me out."

"Hear you out?" Bridget let the hand holding the candlestick drop to her side and she sat back down on the bed. "Morgana, what exactly is going on?"

Morgana sighed and reached into the bodice of her dress, pulling out a crumpled bit of paper. "It's a long story." She handed the note to Bridget, who took it suspiciously but said nothing. "Two nights ago I received this note in a bolt of cloth."

"A trap?" Asked Bridget, her lips pursed.

"Obviously. But I couldn't just ignore the note; I needed to know who had written it, why they'd sent it to me, what they wanted me for." Morgana smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I thought I could solve the mystery by myself- after all, I had suggested that Fossegrim could be behind the murders, when everyone else believed it to be a human. This way perhaps I could prove my theory and stop any more from happening."

"Morgana, even to me that was a stupid plan. You could have been killed or..." Bridget faltered. "Well, look what happened to you!"

"And I say again, I am not possessed." Morgana looked at her pointedly. "Will you let me carry on or do you have any more unhelpful comments to make?"

Chastened, Bridget nodded, inching further down the bed to listen.

"Thank you. As I was saying, I knew I had to sneak out of the castle and find out what was happening. But I knew it was a risky plan. I knew I could be caught, or killed, or something as equally unpleasant. So I made a duplicate of myself."

"Sorry?" Said Bridget. "You made a duplicate of yourself? What? How?"

"I used a spell in Grimacre's Folktales," said Morgana quietly.

Bridget exploded. "You did what?"

"Shh! Someone will hear you!"

"No, I will not be shushed!" Bridget retorted furiously. "You did magic under Uther's very nose! How stupid are you? What if you'd been caught?" She threw her hands up in the air. "Goodness, you've become incredibly foolish since you've been here. Does the king know that his ward is the village idiot?"

Morgana scowled. "Thank you mother but I don't need the lecture. I know how dangerous it was but I didn't have a choice."

"Yes you did, you could have chosen not to go!" Bridget rolled her eyes. "I don't even know why I'm bothering to scold you, it's not like you listened to me anyway. It's not like anyone listens to me at all."

Morgana pouted. "Have you been socialising too much with Gaius? I don't remember you being this nagging before."

"And I don't remember you being this jeopardy friendly," Bridget retorted, "but we all have our faults. Now, carry on with your story and let us hope your abysmal lack of consideration for your own wellbeing improves." She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly did this spell involve?"

Morgana refused to be cowed. "A bit of sage, some antimony, nightshade, a black candle, and a few strands of my hair."

Bridget's eyes narrowed and she'd leapt from the bed to snatch at Morgana's hands before her friend had time to react. In Bridget's unnaturally strong grip there was no way to hide the angry red wound running down the palm of Morgana's milk white left hand. "Blood magic." Bridget shook her head in disgust. "I knew there was more to it. Morgana, that kind of magic is extremely dangerous."

"More dangerous than practising it in the first place?"

"That isn't funny. People have died from doing that kind of practical magic. My mother..." Bridget's voice tailed off at the memory, her throat closing up. She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on Morgana's. "You should have known better."

Morgana sobered. "I'm sorry Bridget, I really am, but what's done is done and I can't take it back." She paused and there was an awkward silence. "Can I have my hands back now?"

Bridget let go wordlessly and reached for her woollen shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders, the cold air of the room finally beginning to seep into her bones. She resettled herself on the edge on the bed. "So you did the spell," she said quietly. "And I'm presuming everything went according to plan."

Morgana nodded. "But I had a further precaution. I knew that Fossegrim lure their victims with their songs so I put candle wax in my ears and the duplicate and I went down to the lake. Well, I say we went down to the lake- I hid in the trees to watch and she went down to wait til midnight."

"And when midnight came?"

Morgana stilled; her face suddenly pale and serious. "This isn't going to be easy for you to hear Bri, and if there was any other way of sparing you from the truth then I hope you know I'd take it."

"You're scaring me, Morgana. What did you see?"

There was no way of saying it kindly, no way to soften the blow and Morgana closed her eyes briefly, trying to screw up the courage to tell her friend a truth that would wound her so deeply.

"Morgana, whatever it is you saw, just tell me."

"I saw Thaniel."

There was a horrible silence.

Morgana swallowed. "Bridget, I know this is hard to take in-"

"Hard to take in? No, it's unbelievable is what it is," scoffed Bridget, caught somewhere between laughing and crying. "Why would my brother be down at the lake in the middle of the night?"

The implications didn't take long to sink in and when they did Bridget's face paled before she shook herself and turned her grief into logic, trying to find a reason to explicate her brother.

"This is all some horrible mistake. You obviously couldn't have seen Thaniel there."

"Bri, I know what I saw. He was there, plain as I see you now."

"Then perhaps it was just an awful coincidence!" She began to clutch at straws. "He was down there trying to clear his head- perhaps he couldn't sleep- and just happened to be in the same place as your mysterious note sender."

"Bri, listen to yourself. It makes no sense!"

Bridget's expression was both terrible and wondrous as she grappled to hold onto the perfect image she had of her older brother and disregard the new reality Morgana was throwing in her face.

"No! You make no sense. Thaniel wouldn't kill anyone. He's not capable of it." She laughed scornfully. "Besides Gaius said the bruises on the victims are made by a woman."

"They are."

Momentarily wrong footed Bridget blinked. "Sorry?"

Morgana sighed. "Thaniel is possessed by a Fossegrim. He was the one who sent me the note to lure me down to the lake so his water demon lover could drown me and possess my body. She did. She's the one who's possessed the duplicate me in the dungeon. She's the one drowning those women whilst he watches."

Bridget stared at her in appalled silence before a crazed smile broke out on her face and she began to laugh. "Thaniel. Possessed?" she managed to choke out as she laughed. She clutched at her sides, shaking, as tears rolled down her cheeks, hysterics taking her.

Morgana slapped her.

Bridget stopped abruptly, but the tears still slid down her face, leaving wet splodges on her nightgown when they landed. "He can't," she said quietly. "He just can't. It's absolute nonsense."

"Bri, think about it, it all fits perfectly." Morgana sighed. "Suddenly he has a talent for music when before we all knew he was tone deaf. He's charming, funny and painfully handsome- and if we're both brutally honest Thaniel was none of those when I met him last."

"People change."

"That drastically? It's like he's another person now, because he is another person now."

Some of Bridget's old fire momentarily came back. She scowled at Morgana. "Forgive me for not thinking that my brother's sudden good looks, charm and musical talent were because he was possessed by a psychopathic water sprite."

"Then what did you think?"

Bridget threw her hands up. "I don't know! I thought perhaps he'd bought a glamour to disguise it. That's how my cousin Susannah married her husband. I thought maybe he'd found a spell to help." She frowned. "It's not easy having ogre blood in your veins. I wasn't about to judge him for trying to make himself more attractive." She slumped down on the bed. "So my brother is possessed by a water demon and he tried to get you to be possessed by another. Why? And why drown all those previous women? Why possess your duplicate and not them?"

Morgana shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. They didn't explain and I left to sneak back to the castle soon after."

Bridget's eyes suddenly narrowed. "But how do I know any of this is true? You could just be a very good liar and this is some elaborate plot you've concocted to gain my trust, discredit my brother and sneak you out of the castle."

"Bri, if I wanted to sneak out of the castle I could have done that without breaking into your room in the middle of the night and telling you a garbled story of demons and duplicates. I could have just gone and no-one would have been any the wiser." Morgana paused. "But I do need you to do something for me."

"Hah!" crowed Bridget cynically. "I knew there was a catch. There always is." Her expression was fierce. "I'm not killing anyone for you, or helping you escape-"

"I don't need you to kill anyone." Morgana interrupted. "I just need you to fetch Grimacre's Folktales from under my bed for me."

"Why?"

"The book mentions something about how to kill Fossegrim. If we get the book we can destroy the water demon that's inhabiting the body of the duplicate in the dungeon, and perhaps it will cure your brother too." She took a breath and gazed at Bridget seriously. "But I can't go. It was dangerous enough for me to sneak in here without anyone seeing me. I can hardly go wandering the corridors to my rooms and back. So that's why I need you. There'll be far less questions asked if anyone sees you, or catches you in my rooms, than if anyone sees me."

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free," quoted Bridget softly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You really are telling the truth. You really are my Morgana."

It wasn't a question.

"Bri?"

She pasted on a smile. "I'm fine. Honestly. It's just a lot to take in." She choked on a sob, a funny little half smile crossing her features. "You know, today he was going to take me riding. Just the two of us. Sibling bonding and all that." She let out a sad laugh that sounded more like a sigh. "It would have been such a lovely day. And now, now everything is ruined. Where do we even go from here?"

"I need that book," Morgana gently reminded her. "We can still save him, Bri. You can still have your brother back."

"Of course. I'll go and get it for you." Bridget got up as if in a dream. She turned softly at the door. "Morgana? I'm...I'm glad you felt you could trust me."

"You're my best friend. Of course I trust you."

Still Bridget paused, her hand on the door latch, wavering as if struggling with something hideous within her. When she finally spoke her voice was rough with regret. "Morgana...you say we can get my brother back. But if I couldn't even tell he was gone...what kind of sister does that make me?"

But she'd gone before Morgana could even reply.

Keeping to the shadows and hurrying along the darkened corridors Bridget soon found herself in front of Morgana's chambers. There had been one brief, heart stopping moment when she'd heard footsteps coming towards her, seen the shadow of a hooded figure on the corridor wall and known sudden panic, her heart leaping into her throat. But she'd ducked into a doorway, closed her eyes, held her breath and the footsteps had passed and she'd continued on.

But now she tried the handle to her friend's rooms and when the door gave no resistance pushed it open and quietly slipped inside. There she made immediately for the bed and flattened herself to the floor, thrusting her plump body under the frame and wriggling inch by inch until she found the floor flagstone Morgana had identified. One sharp shove later and her arm was stretching into the hole, fingers questing over the numerous small trifling items in there until they closed over smooth leather bindings and she drew out the book.

Replacing the tile and shuffling her way out from under the bed she dusted herself off, debated hiding the book under her nightgown, decided against it after calculating its size and weight and settled for holding it close to her chest, with her cloak wrapped around herself.

Once more closing the door behind her and hurrying down the corridor she was almost -almost!- at her own chambers when suddenly a figure loomed before her. This time however there were no convenient doorways. No other hallways to turn down, no wall hanging with which to hide behind, not even a suit of armour or statue behind which to secrete herself.

With nowhere to go and nowhere to hide she mustered her courage and composed her expression into what she hoped was one of innocence.

Of course it would have to be Arthur who was walking straight towards her, his face grim.

"Bridget. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I could ask you the very same question," she shot back, shifting the book behind her back and fingering her cloak closer to her body.

Arthur deflated. "I'm sorry, that came out all wrong. You look troubled. Is anything wrong?"

Bridget let out a bitter laugh. "The whole world. Have you ever had one of those moments when your whole perception of something, your whole life even, is suddenly unequivocally changed and there is nothing you can ever do to change it back?" At Arthur's blank look she sighed and shook her head. "Nevermind. Why are you up? What thoughts could possibly trouble the Prince of Camelot?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "All I could think about was Morgana with that thing controlling her." He ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. "I have this feeling…like I'm never going to see her again."

Bridget softened her tone at the look of barely hidden distress on his face. "It'll be alright, Arthur. Morgana's strong, she'll fight this thing and you will have her back. Don't give upon her. She wouldn't give up on you."

He smiled wanly but didn't contradict her. "Come, I'll walk you back to your rooms."

Her eyes widened, her heart starting to beat rapidly. "Oh it's no trouble; I can find my own way back. I have an excellent sense of direction."

"I insist."

His tone brooked no argument and there was nothing she could do but agree graciously. "Very well."

They walked in silence to her chambers, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts, and it was with a sense of relief but also trepidation when they finally reached her door.

"Goodnight, Arthur. Thank you for accompanying me back." She stood at the threshold and gave him her most winning smile. In return he simply nodded tiredly.

"Bridget."

She waited until he was far down the other end of the corridor before quickly slipping into the room and then slumping against the door once it was closed.

Morgana poked her head out from Bridget's closet and upon seeing her friend smiled in relief, stepping out and sitting back down on the dressing table chair. "I heard voices outside the door. I thought it was you but I couldn't be sure."

"Arthur finally decided to enter the age of chivalry exactly when I didn't want him to," Bridget explained exasperatedly. "Honestly, of all the nights to be gallant! Anyway, I have the book for you." She proffered the text to Morgana and then took off her cloak as her friend began to eagerly flip through the pages. "Do you know what exactly you're looking for?"

"It's halfway down the third page on Fossegrim, I think it talks about the act of naming and then it launches into a-"

There was a loud knock on the door and Arthur walked in.

"Arthur!"

"Sorry to just barge in like this Bridget, but about what you were saying before..." He trailed off as he took in the room and its occupants.

"Morgana?"

Arthur's shocked gaze turned from one woman to the other. For a moment no-one said anything, all three frozen in disbelief.

"I take back what I said about him being gallant," murmured Bridget, almost to herself. "I could have been undressing! Since when do men walk into a lady's chambers at night without their permission?"

Arthur seemed to be struggling to take in the situation, but his expression was gradually growing more and more stormy. Finally he found his voice. "Since when does a lady harbour a prisoner of the crown in her own room?"

Morgana cursed under her breath and stood, holding out her hands. "Arthur, I can explain-"

"There's no need for explanations." Arthur's hand went for his sword as the two women looked at each other. "You're in league with each other. Bridget helped you escape and now you're both plotting to continue on in your murderous little spree."

"Arthur, that's not what happened. I-"

"Shut up demon," he growled at her. "You have no right to speak to me. And you," he turned his sword to Bridget. "I knew I was right about you. Morgana wouldn't believe me, but I knew something was off about you. All those convenient disappearances of yours. You're just as bad as the demon beside you."

Bridget tried to reason with him. "Arthur, I can see why you'd think that but this is not what it looks like."

"Right," he replied drily. "You and the demon possessing Morgana were just exchanging hair tips and fashion advice- oof!"

Bridget had thrown her cloak over Arthur's head. Taking advantage of his momentary confusion she shoved him hard so that he landed heavily against the opposite wall. Dazed he sat up, pulling the cloak from his head, his eyes burning with anger.

Bridget turned to Morgana. "Run!"

Morgana grabbed the book and dashed out of the door after Bridget, feet pounding down the corridor, heart thumping in time with her feet. There was a loud crash and Arthur stumbled out the door after them, his sword in his hand.

"Stop! Come back here!"

"Not bloody likely," muttered Bridget under her breath, lifting the skirt of her nightgown so she wouldn't trip. "If Father could see me now he'd have a fit. 'This is not ladylike behaviour-"

"Bridget, shut up and run!" breathed Morgana as they dashed down another corridor and rounded a corner. Almost tripping on a loose flagstone the two women hurtled down the long corridor, passing Morgana's bedroom on their way, before stumbling round another corner into another darkened passageway. Slumping against one of the walls they listened, but Arthur's footsteps seemed distant and muffled.

"Any other ideas or are you just planning on running all night?" said Morgana, the book in her arms growing heavier with each step she ran.

"I hadn't really thought this far ahead," Bridget admitted, breathing heavily. "Though now you mention it..."

But Arthur's pounding steps had come dangerously close again and they were off once more, Morgana taking the lead this time, Bridget close behind her, Arthur hard on their heels, seemingly relentless in his pursuit.

And then suddenly they were in a brightly lit corridor, shafts of moonlight sliding in through the castle windows lighting up the gleaming suits of armour that lined the walls.

Bridget grabbed a sword from one of the suited, silent figures.

"What are you doing?" hissed Morgana. "You can't think you're going to fight him?"

"You may have noticed but I am not built for running!" Bridget argued back. "And when he eventually catches up with me I'd like to have something to even the odds slightly. He's not going to harm you when he thinks there's a chance he can get you back, but he doesn't love me. I need something to defend myself with."

Arthur appeared around the corner.

"Time to run again!" Bridget pulled Morgana after her.

This time, however, the corridor stretched the full length of the castle. With no corners to dodge round, Arthur continued to close in whilst the book in Morgana's arms grew heavier and heavier.

Suddenly she tripped, her foot catching on a slightly raised cobble. Her grip was lost. The book slid one way, Morgana another. She stumbled to her hands and knees as Bridget turned.

"Keep running!" Morgana yelled, even as she turned back, her hands stretching for the book. Her fingers closed round it and she clutched it to her chest.

Then Arthur's sword tip was at her throat.

Struggling to keep her breath in check, bosom heaving, and tasting blood in her mouth from having bitten her tongue when she fell, she didn't dare look up.

Arthur's voice was rough with fury and longing. "Stand up. Slowly."

Gradually, oh so gradually she rose from her knees in front of him, ever conscious of the blade hovering at the delicate skin above her clavicle. And then she raised her head. His storm blue eyes met her soft green and for a moment they simply stood there, neither moving, neither breathing, simply looking at each other.

Then a sword appeared from out of the shadows behind Arthur. His eyes widened imperceptibly as Bridget emerged silently behind them, her own sword digging painfully into his back.

"I thought I told you to keep going," said Morgana.

Bridget simply flashed a softly amused smile at her. "I told you," she replied gently, "I'm not built for running." Her voice turned hard and from the wince on Arthur's faced Morgana knew she'd nudged her sword sharply against Arthur's back. "Now let her go before I run you through."

Arthur's voice was hard and flat. "Stab me and I won't hesitate to kill her."

"You love her. You wouldn't dare."

"I loved Morgana," he corrected without emotion. "This is not Morgana; the demon in her body makes a mockery of everything she stood for." His voice was firm. "She'd understand."

Bridget frowned and pushed her sword a little harder, so that a small groan came from Arthur. He gritted his teeth. "Perhaps you'd like to test out your theory then."

Unsure now of his actions Bridget loosened her grip on her weapon, easing up the pressure of her sword against the prince's spine. "Then it looks like we're at a stalemate."

"There is one way we can settle this," said Morgana quietly. She fixed her eyes on Arthur. "Take me to the dungeons."

"What?" Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you want to return there?"

"Because I didn't come from there in the first place," she explained gently. "I'm the real Morgana; the Morgana in the dungeons is merely a copy of me possessed by the water demon. It's not me and it never was."

"You expect me to believe that?"

At his disbelieving look she swallowed but carried on. "You have nothing to lose. If we go down and there's no-one there you can lock me up. If you see the Fossegrim locked up then will you believe I'm not a water demon, and this really is me?"

"Perhaps," he agreed grudgingly.

It was a sombre party that headed down to the dungeons, their weapons drawn, a wary truce making them move slowly. At the dungeon entrance Morgana hesitated.

"Second thoughts?"

"I need the keys," she murmured. Reluctantly Arthur removed them with his free hand from his belt and passed them over. She took them wordlessly and selecting the right key, slipped it into the lock and opened the door. The gate swung open silently and then they were in, slipping down the dark passageways lit only by flickering firelit torches.

"Which way?"

Arthur frowned. "You don't know?"

"Of course not, I wasn't here when you locked her...me...it," Morgana struggled for the right pronoun, "up. You'll have to lead us."

"And I haven't been allowed to see her," interjected Bridget. "So I don't know."

Arthur snorted. "And have my enemies at my back? No chance. From here we go left. Next right. Three cells down." He smiled smugly. "Nice try."

Morgana rolled her eyes but followed his directions even as Bridget jabbed him in the back accidentally on purpose with her sword. "Sorry," she muttered, her voice deliberately light.

A muscle ticked in Arthur's jaw. "Poke me one more time with your sword, Bridget, and so help me I will not be responsible for my actions."

"I'm scared. Really." Bridget shivered mockingly. "I'm quaking in my nightgown."

"Will you two stop bickering?" snapped Morgana. "We're here." She located the key for the cell and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

Arthur motioned with his head, his sword firmly trained on her. "Ladies first," he murmured cynically.

Shrugging and still clutching the book to her Morgana slipped past the cell door. The door slammed shut behind her.

Somebody screamed.

"Morgana?" Arthur's face blanched white. He threw the cell door open and launched himself inside, sword raised, eyes blazing.

"Peace, Arthur," said Morgana quietly beside him. She motioned to the cringing figure chained against the wall, her face screwed up in horror, her eyes glaring hatred as she stared at Morgana and her book. "She just doesn't like me very much." She stroked the book. "She knows what this can do to her."

Arthur did a double take, his eyes sliding between the Morgana who had flattened her body against the side of the dungeon, her face set in a grimace, and the Morgana who stood clutching her book, one eyebrow raised at him.

"There's...there's two of you," he finally spoke, his voice slow and bewildered.

"I did tell you I wasn't her."

"Then who is she?"

"A copy, a duplicate Morgana, possessed by the Fossegrim. It's a long story." She smiled softly at him. "It's really me, Arthur."

He hesitated, still unsure.

She rolled her eyes. "I can say it slower for you if you'd like. Or use smaller words." She crossed her arms. "Diagrams? Interpretative dance? Even Merlin would have got it by now."

He resheathed his sword even as smile flickered on his lips. "I should have known. Only you insult me so nicely."

"Well only you would take so long to grasp the concept that there are two of us."

Arthur's eyes took on a dangerously heated glint. "Two of you. Just think of the possibilities."

"Puzzled to sleazy in less than five seconds." Morgana sighed in mock disgust. "I think that's a new record for you."

At the added insult, Arthur's fingers curled round her cheek and a fierce smile suddenly broke out across his face, something like untamed joy flashing across his features. "Morgana. Shut up."

And then he pulled her into a fierce hug, burying his face in her hair. She clutched him equally as hard, feeling the fine trembling of his muscles as he held her to him and sighed. Unnoticed, the book dropped to the floor beside them. He pulled away to run his hands over her jaw, through her hair and down over her shoulders as if he couldn't quite believe she was there, a kind of wonder in his eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you."

"I can tell," she replied softly, her own fingers tracing his brow, his cheeks, his lips. He closed his eyes, savouring her touch, and when he opened them again something subtle shifted between them.

"Morgana. I-"

"Sorry to interrupt this heart-warming reunion," cut in Bridget dryly as she entered the room, drawing the dungeon door shut after her. "But someone's coming."

True enough the sound of footsteps could be heard echoing down the corridor. Silently the three of them slipped into the shadows behind the door, Arthur unsheathing his sword once more, Bridget's own weapon raised.

The door handle turned and a figure stepped through.

Arthur stepped back in surprise, lowering his sword. "Merlin! What are you doing here?"

The manservant folded his arms. "Following you! You think you can run round over half the castle and not have anyone notice? You weren't exactly quiet. What're you all doing in here?" He fixed his eyes on Morgana and then back again at the woman in shackles. He scratched his head. "There's two of them now?"

"She's a copy, I'm the real one, I'll explain later," Morgana said hurriedly. "For now, I know who's killing the women."

Bridget suddenly clamped a hand round Morgana's mouth.

Please read and review!

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with the response to this story and it always makes me so proud when I receive positive comments from you guys! It's the best feeling ever so a massive thank you to you all! I just hope you'll all continue with me on this ArMor journey. A journey where the end is beginning to close in. And not everyone is going to survive.

(And no. A massive author's note does not get you out of reviewing this chapter.)