Secrets Untold

*Searching for Ichy with Jerod, Kidd reaches a decision* 

Kidd:  I made a mistake.  What good be saving one while another dies.  *Angered*  You let them take Manouche.  You coulda stopped 'em.  It'd been less than nothing to ye.  You were right, I've no liking the nature of yer 'elp.  Portsmith woulda done as much.  Go back to yer hidey 'ole and leave me be.  I 'ave to go back.  *Turns, stalks off.*

Jerod *Shouts after her*  I'm the only hope you have.  When next you come to me, the price will be high.  *Too low to be heard*  One soul box, to be precise.  *Kidd disappears from sight.*

At Bournemouth House:

*Hours later, the dark sedan pulls up in front of Abberline’s house.  Mr. Black and Mr. Brown slowly, painfully emerge, very much the worse for wear after having been at the mercy of the Leader and the Shadows.  They limp up to the door, start knocking incessantly, Mr. Black swearing under his breath*

Abberline *slowly coming out of a pleasant haze, finally realizes that someone is knocking at the door, staggers up with difficulty and walks downstairs grabbing the handrail for support, opens the door, surprised to see Mr. Brown and Mr. Black, steps aside when they push past him inside*  I - I did not find Malachi ... *then takes a closer look at them and falls quiet*

Mr. Black:  Shut up, you fool, and get us a coupla whiskys.  *They enter drawing room, drop down on sofa.  Snaps his fingers*  C’mon, Inspector, chop chop … *looks at him more closely, notices his condition*  Oh, I see … torpedoed again, eh?  Should've known.  *stands up, walks over to buffet, finds glasses, pours whisky for the three of them.  Picks up two glasses, nods toward third one, looks at Abberline*  Help yourself.  *returns to sofa, gives one glass to Mr. Brown, sits down, drinks from his glass.  Pulls envelope from his coat, sets it on table before sofa*  There you are, Inspector, as we promised.  There are the names of the men you’ll be visiting.  As for their location, it’s there as well.  They’re in a smaller building, not far from the warehouse we took you to.  The men will give you no trouble, I promise.  You can do anything you want with them.  *drinks again, looks at him wearily*  It doesn’t matter that you didn’t find Malachi.  I regret to admit that the whole thing has fallen apart.  We lost the other one, as well.  She’s probably back home by now, with that … poet.  *drinks again, hands his glass to Mr. Brown*  Another round, Mr. Brown, if you don’t mind.  *Mr. Brown nods, rises, limps over to the counter … thinks better of it, picks up bottle, brings it back to sofa, pours drinks for them both*

Mr. Black *nods approvingly*  Very expedient of you, Mr. Brown.  If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed … *drinks, scowls, looks again at Abberline*  An unforeseen force stepped in and threw our plans all to hell.  It seems the Gypsy made a deal with the Guardians of the box, and they are quite determined to protect what they feel is rightfully theirs.  They, ah, made us see that it would be in our best interest to convince the Order that they can manage without this particular sacrifice taking place.  *looks down, shakes head*  In short, I rather imagine our days are numbered.  *drains glass, looks up, continues*  However, one never knows.  We may catch our superiors in a benevolent mood.  So, as hope springs eternal, we have decided to keep our bargain with you regarding your wife’s murderers.  Because, as we mentioned before, we would just as soon have them out of our way, regardless of the outcome of our deal with you.  We’ll have another drink ... or two ... and be on our way … unless you have any questions.

Abberline *confused, looks at them drinking his whisky in his living-room, then focuses on the envelope, trying to understand what Mr. Black says*   Manouche, she's all right then?  *draws a breath of relief*  What do you mean with the men, no trouble?  Why … why are you giving them to me if your plan failed?  Do they know why they are here?  *takes the envelope reluctantly, not quite believing Mr. Black*

Mr. Black *smiles*  My, so suspicious!  Have you no ability to simply accept a gift, Inspector, without suspecting some hidden consequence?  Terrible way to go through life, I don’t advise it.  *pours another drink*  Yes, your little Manouche is all right.  We’re done with her for now.  The Guardians are simply too much for us, we know our limits.  If the Order can figure out a way around them that involves us, then we may be back for another attempt.  But for now, we return to the Order, throw ourselves on their mercy, such as it is, and hope for the best.  As for the men, I told you before, they are … subdued …  *looks at Mr. Brown, they both grin at each other*  They’re alive and kicking, but they’re tied up, they’re in a locked, soundproof room, and we've kept them sedated from time to time.  They don’t know exactly what’s going to be done with them, but they know we brought them here, they know we want them out of the way … and worst of all for them, they know that the Order no longer cares about them because they have served their purpose.  We have had our disagreements with them in the past, they could conceivably get in our way as we strive to join the Inner Circle.  At this point, I imagine our chances of doing that are slim to none.  But regardless, I see no advantage to releasing these men.  They’ve caused us trouble, now we would like to pay them back in kind.  I can think of no better way than to unleash you on them.  Their surprise will be exquisite … I’m half-tempted to come along with you and watch.  *drinks*  You see, dear Abberline … we’re happy to reward you for your efforts.  It’s not your fault that the plan failed.  I’m impressed with how easily you were able to turn against your friends.  If this ever gets back to them, your life in this town won’t be worth a farthing.  Should that happen, you may want to consider joining up with us.  Your cold-blooded focus is admirable, we can use a man like you.  *takes card from breast pocket, leaves it on the table; pours another drink*

Abberline *snatches the envelope, bites his lip and at the last words of Mr. Black*  No, I don't believe in gifts, not from the likes of you.  I may have burned all the bridges behind me ...  *rising slowly from the seat, grabs Mr. Black at the collar and forces him up*  I can bring you all down, one by one, now that I have nothing to lose.  You … your Order is ... is just one bunch of ...  *enraged, chokes on his words, grits his teeth, and pushes violently Mr. Black back to the seat*  Get out.  Get out of my house.

Mr. Black *stares up at him, starts to say something, then changes his mind.  Looks at Mr. Brown*  Come, Mr. Brown, we’ve been asked to leave.  *They both stand up, still wincing from their wounds; Mr. Black turns, looks at sofa*  I’m afraid we’ve gotten some blood and dirt on your furniture … apologies.  You might try sending the cleaning bill to the Order, I’ll authorize it, of course.  *They start for the door, then Mr. Black turns, looks at Abberline, who’s fuming, his rage just below the surface; studies him for a moment*  Isn’t that one for the books … here you went to all that trouble to turn over your friend to us, because you’d decided that quenching your burning thirst for revenge outweighed the kindnesses of a few silly fools … a very wise choice, may I add … and as it turns out, you didn’t need to make that choice, at all.  You could’ve had your revenge and kept your integrity with your friends.  What a pity that we didn’t know the Gypsy had a deal already in place, we probably would’ve given you those names anyway, let you dispose of those men.  *brings hand up to swollen jaw, scowls*  And what a pity we didn’t know just how tough those Guardians can be.

Mr. Brown:  That’s what you call … ironic.

Mr. Black *shrugs, grins at Abberline*  Well, on to other conquests.  And cheer up, Inspector … there’s a very good chance no one will ever learn your dirty little secret.  The Gypsy may not live long enough to find it out, depending on the bargain she’s made with the Guardians.  That way, your life can go on … they’ll continue to coddle you, make you huge breakfasts you don’t want, nurse you back to health when you’ve kicked the gong a few too many times, talk you out of your dark moods … hell, maybe even that oddball son of yours will come home.  Time will tell.  *turns, looks at Mr. Brown, who’s picked up his glass from the table and is running a dirty finger around the inside of it to catch the remaining whiskey; glares at him, grabs glass, sets it back on table with a bang.  Straightens up, looks at Abberline*  At least now there’ll be one less vision to plague your waking dreams, now that the sacrifice probably will never come to pass:  Manouche’s suffering at the hands of the Order.  Thank you for the drinks, Inspector Frederick Abberline.  *laughs softly, starts toward door*

Abberline:  You know where to hit.  *crumples the envelope in his fist, grabs Mr. Black, spins him around, slams him against the wall and slaps him on the mouth*  Get out!  *then turns towards Mr. Brown, who backs slowly off, pushes the coffee table out of his way, the glasses slide on the floor and shatter.  Mr. Brown uses the delay and dashes towards the door.*

Mr. Brown:  Right, Inspector, you are very good in fighting injured men.

Abberline *pushes him aside from the doorway*  Out of my way!  *then without a glance at them goes upstairs and after a moment they hear a door shutting with a loud bang.*

Mr. Black *rubbing his face, looks up the stairs, frowning*  Let’s go, Mr. Brown … if I never see this town again, it’ll be too soon.  Let’s hope the Order doesn’t come up with a way around the Guardians.  They can have the Gypsy, good riddance.  *turns, limps out of the house.  He and Mr. Brown get back in the car, start it up and roar off, for the road leading out of town*

Abberline’s Revenge:

Abberline *arrives on the property indicated in the paper he got from Mr. Black, opens cautiously the door, steps into a dark hall, fumbles for a light, finds the switch and the room fills up with a bright cold light.  He sees two men bound in chairs, blinking their eyes in the harsh light. He goes to them, kicks the chair*  Wake up.

1st Man *lifts his head, still squinting, his face is badly bruised, still he's calm*  The executioner, I suppose.  I pledge my allegiance to the Order.  I submit myself to the laws of the Order.

Abberline:  I am not of the Order.

2nd Man:  The Order knows what is best.  I am just a servant of the great and eternal Order …  *stops, hearing Abberline's words*  So who are you then?

Abberline *watching them intently, noting that they don't look like ruthless killers at all, just two very ordinary though badly mangled men, with the kind of pleasant faces that have nothing distinguishable in their features, the kind of faces you forget in a minute.  He feels his heart sink looking at them, maybe this is the last trick of Mr. Black, maybe they are not the men he has for years wanted to confront; he's imagined the situation so many times in his mind, but now he feels suddenly uncertain.  He has to know they really are the ones*  Does the name Abberline say anything to you?

*The men exchange a surprised glance.*

1st Man:  Should I know you?  I have never set my eyes on you before.

Abberline:  Maybe you remember my late wife better.  Victoria Abberline.

2nd Man:  Victoria Abberline.  *frowns, thinking*  Abberline … Abberline.  Oh yes, so you are the Inspector with the pretty little wife ...

1st Man:  Yes, the beautiful little unhappy Vicky, yes.  *smiles insolently*  Of course, how could I ever forget her!  So you are the rightful grieving widower come to avenge her, you were that perfect soon-to-be-a-father.  *laughs, sounds more like croaking*

2nd Man:  I see.  They have given us in your hands.  *nods approvingly*  That is brilliant.  Let some other do the dirty work and take the blame.  But I am not questioning the ways of the Order.  Our life is in the hands of the Order, and if they have dealt their doom on us, so be it.  But what good will revenge be to you?  Some things are better left as they are.  She will still stay dead.

Abberline:  Yes, she's dead ... And your turn is today.

1st Man:  You think you scare us?  Everybody dies sooner or later.  We are trained soldiers of the Order.  I am not afraid of death, and I am ready to do what the Order decides, I will be honoured to die for the Order.

Abberline:  Shut up!  *takes his pistol from his pocket and cocks it.*

1st Man:  You don't want to be doing that ...

Abberline *lowers the gun*  I was not going to shoot you, that would be too easy, too fast for you.

2nd Man:  I imagine you have been reveling in making us suffer as your wife did.  But there's a little problem there, Inspector, you don't really know the details, do you?

1st Man:  And I doubt she still would care.  Pity that you were so late that night, so busy chasing the dragon.  I was actually hoping that she would still be alive when you found her, she would have spit in your face and cursed you.

2nd Man:  I'll be more than delighted to tell you the details, though I know you will not appreciate our art.  Let's say that you missed the best part and only saw the final result.  Though I got to say it was rather impressive too.  A true work of art, even if I say so myself.  Oh yes, I do remember her so well, such a very desirable woman she was.

1st Man:  A most pleasant assignment it was indeed, Inspector.  *grins*  Let me tell you ...

Abberline *listens to them, stunned, hurt by their words*  How ... how did you get in?

1st Man:  By simply knocking on the door, Inspector, just a pair of colleagues from overseas looking for you.  She did not suspect a thing and let us in to wait for you ...  We warned her that she should be careful who she opens the door for.  We recommended a security system, funny, ain't it, Inspector?  You had not said a word to her about the danger she was in.  *shakes head*

2nd Man:  So there she was, a young mother-to-be all alone by herself, with a husband more devoted to his work than his family.  That is what she believed.  *glances at the first man who continues*

1st Man:  We were able to enlighten her on that account, Inspector.  You should have seen her when she was told the bitter truth about your little obsession of chasing the dragon.  Funny, she didn't know about that.  We also informed her about your little amorous adventure in the Fiji with that pirate wench.  We showed her some evidence, pictures, in fact.  *grins*  You were closely followed.  She didn't take it too well, so we had to console her.  *grins*  After she stopped crying and dried her eyes in my handkerchief, she told how she had been contemplating a divorce, and that now she had made her mind up, thanks to us.  But in fact it is you who has to thank us for saving your face from the shame of her leaving you.  Very entertaining.

2nd Man:  So through all these years you've played the rightful grieving widower, not suspecting that she knew the truth about you.  She knew what you really were like.  That you really didn't care much about her.  Before she died, she knew that you had cheated on her while she was waiting for you, carrying your child.  I don't believe that she felt much love for you in her last moments.  We felt also obliged to tell her about our assignment, that she had to die slowly and painfully only because you were too stubborn to listen to the warnings you got.  She knew why she had to die, and she knew that you could have saved her and the child.  You didn't.  

1st Man:  It was you who killed her.  I can see from your face that you know it, too.  You have been feeling guilt simply because you are guilty.  You can't escape that.

2nd Man:  And you should have seen her face when I pinned her arms behind her back and my companion here took his sharp knife out.   

1st Man:  She did not die instantly, Inspector, it took her many hours.  She was still alive when we left her.

Abberline:  Stop it!  Shut up!

2nd Man:  The details, Inspector, all the minute details, we don't want you waste your pretty little revenge ... Now, the first cuts ...

Abberline:  No!  Shut up!  Shut up!  *slaps him across the face with his gun, but the other man immediately continues*

1st Man: ... not too deep, but painful enough to realize ...

Abberline *vision blinded by tears, lifts his gun and pulls the trigger, then once again, and again, until the gun is empty, backs off to the door without being able to look at the men hanging lifeless in their chairs.  Suddenly someone grabs his wrist and takes the gun; he spins around, wipes his face with his sleeve.*

Commander Portsmith:  Well, dear Fred, are you feeling better now?  *Looks at him sharply*  I thought so.  *takes a look inside, raises brows*  I wouldn't have thought you could murder in cold blood someone who can't defend himself.

Abberline *faintly, still stunned*  They killed her.

Portsmith:  So you say.  You should have turned them in and got them convicted in court.  After all, you are an officer of law and should know better than take the law in your own hands.  But you were never one to follow rules.  *gestures to her men, a couple of guards from the castle crew*  Take care of that mess inside after you have documented it well.  And give me the microchip.  Destroy all traces.

Abberline:  They would go free, the evidence ...

Portsmith:  Yes, the evidence is missing, which means that you don't have any either, do you.  If there is not enough evidence, how could you have known that these men were the guilty ones?  It's you who would be convicted. Get in the car, Fred.  *pushes him inside her brand new black SUV without him resisting, gets in herself and heads towards the castle, tires screeching*

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Raven *early next morning, wakes up with a start, disoriented after confusing dreams; looks around, finds himself in bed, back in the room Manouche and Blake kept for him ... from the partially-open window, he hears the sound of the river rushing.  Settles back, sighs, taking comfort in the sound.  Hears a tap at the door; door opens slightly, Manouche peeks in*

Manouche:  Y’ awake, luv?  Can I come in, or would y’ like to sleep a bit more?

Raven:  No, I’m awake.  *sits up, props pillow behind him*

Manouche *comes in, sits on side of the bed*  Mr. Blake, he’s gone into town to fetch some food, th’ kitchen’s bare.  He wanted t’ pick up from Chez Roux, but I don’t know if they’re open yet, so he may get groceries instead.  *looks him over, shaking her head, smiling*  Blimey, look at ye.  ‘Ave ye really been gone so long?  Y’look so grown up … yer too thin, though.

Raven *grins*  I’m all right.  I … I was on a pirate ship.  I wasn’t shanghaied –  *adds quickly as he sees the concern in her face*  I signed on.  I wanted to … get away … but … now I don’t remember what I wanted to get away from.

Manouche:  Y’ don’t remember?  Does that ‘ave to do with yer pushin’ us away in yer head?  Fer th’ first time, I couldn’t sense ye … it worried me desp’rate.

Raven:  M-maybe.  I wish I could remember better.  I don’t know what happened … I know I was … I remember wantin’ to get away, an’ not wantin’ anyone to know where to find me.  So I …

Manouche:  Y’ shut down, didn’t ye?  No worries, lil’ mate, no one’s angry with ye.

Raven:  But it went too far … I lost control.  For awhile I didn’t even know my own name.  There’s still so much I don’t remember.  *shrugs, mumbles*  I – I didn’t want anyone worryin’ …

Manouche *grins*  Well, then ye did exactly th’ wrong thing.  *reaches over, takes his hands in hers, squeezes them; thinks for a few minutes, then continues*  We’re dreamers, you an’ me … we ain’t like everyone else.  So when ye shut down, y’ managed t’ shut down a bit too far, to th’ point where ye lost control.  An’ now, ye ‘ave to work to bring it all back.  Yer still very young, mate … ye ain’t grown into yer own mind yet, is one way o’ lookin’ at it.  *brings his hands up to her lips, kisses them*  Y’know, it ain’t like we ‘ave to be readin’ each other’s minds all th’ bloody time.  Yer gettin’ older now … it’d be unnatural fer ye not t’ want to keep some thoughts all yers, not to be shared.

Raven:  I want to tell you everything that happened … but part of me doesn’t want to … at least … not everything.  I’ll tell you what I can.  There are some things I can’t tell you ‘cause I don’t remember ‘em.  But there are other things I can’t tell you … *pauses, looks at her regretfully*  ….. because I don’t want to tell you.  I – I’m s-sorry … *lowers his head*

Manouche:  Blimey, is that what’s worryin’ ye?  C’mere, luv …  *she pulls him close, hugs him*  Y’ can tell me – or Mr. Blake – as little or as much as ye want about anythin’, savvy?  We all ‘ave secrets at one time or another.  *she releases him, holds him by the arms, looks at him*  Also, if there’s anythin’ ye’d be more at ease discussin’ with Mr. Blake than meself, I won’t mind.  Sometimes a bloke needs to hear a point o’ view from another bloke, not some chuffin’ woman.  Me only advice to ye is, don’t keep things locked inside that are eatin’ away at ye.  If somethin’s botherin’ ye, speak up.  Oftentimes, once y’ do that, ye come to realize that what seemed a big problem is jus’ rubbish.  But no matter what ‘appens, ye’ll always be me lil’ mate.  All right?  *smiles, shakes him slightly*

Raven *nods, smiles at her gratefully*  Th-thank you, Manouche.  *throws his arms around her*

Manouche *hugs him, thinks to herself*  Ahh, there’s a new shyness about ye, son, I can feel it.  Ye’ve grown up quite a bit since I last saw ye.  I’ll miss that lil’ boy, but ye’ll be a grand young man.  *quickly blinks a tear away, pulls back, smiles at him, says aloud*  I’d best get coffee started.  C’mon into th’ kitchen when yer ready, keep me company.  Mr. Blake’ll be back anytime now.  We’ll ‘ave brekkie, an’ then we’ll continue t’ sort it all out.  Soon it’ll be like ye never left.  *stands up, walks to door, turns back to look at him*  Mr. Blake tells me ye remember yer mum … an’ ye don’t remember yer dad.  But d’ ye remember True Dreamer?

Raven *nods slowly, eyes wide and solemn*

Manouche:  Aye, well then … True Dreamer’d be right proud o’ ye right now.  *smiles, leaves the room*

Raven *watches her go, gets out of bed, walks over to dresser, looks at himself in mirror.  Lowers his head, closes eyes, thinks, not even certain what he’s thinking about, just letting his mind wander.  Thinks about the warehouse where they found Manouche, how it looked just like the place he’d seen in his vision on The Lancet … tries to recall what else he’d seen.  The three men … Mr. Brown … and the other two, whose names he didn’t know … one with an easy, casual manner and posture … the third one sullen, brooding, a darkness about him, a deep unhappiness.  And something about a plan … something concerning Mr. Blake … he’d heard it word for word when he was on the ship; but now it was fast disappearing, the way a dream sometimes disappears from the memory upon awakening, even as the person waking up is thinking, “I’ve got to write that down before I forget … ”   He concentrates harder … but it’s no use, it’s gone.  Opens his eyes, looks in the mirror, gasps – for a split second, he sees the face of the sullen, brooding man in his own.  He squeezes his eyes shut tight, opens them … and he’s himself again.  He feels weak for a moment, starts to tremble.*

Manouche *from kitchen*  Ahh, Mr. Blake, let me help ye with that, love.  *calls out*  C’mon, Raven, ‘ave some breakfast …

Raven *wipes his brow with his forearm … looks around the little room and suddenly feels an overwhelming gratitude for Manouche and Blake, for providing a safe place for him, no questions asked.  Blinks away tears impatiently, calls back*  I’m comin’.  *Looks in mirror one more time, sighs, runs from room to kitchen, where Manouche is putting groceries away.  Blake smiles, hands him a cup of coffee that’s more milk than coffee; he smiles his thanks, tastes it, and isn’t a bit surprised to find that it’s exactly the way he likes it.  He hears Manouche’s voice in his head:*  Notre famille.  *He shyly says it back to her in his mind, feels a glow, and is rather glad that he cannot remember what it was that made him want to leave so badly*

At Chateau Blanchefort:

Abberline *in a comfortable and stylish bedroom on the third floor of Chateau Blanchefort.  The room is furnished in Eastern Empire style with heavy dark brown furniture and dark red curtains and a wallpaper with golden and white stripes.  He's gazing out of the window at the town.  It's very early morning, and the town is quiet and shrouded in a morning mist, but he can see occasional glimpses of houses and trees and the ships in the port.  He can't discern his own house, but Manouche's and Blake's by the river is clearly in view, and for a while he wonders whether Raven returned for Manouche, but he brushes the thoughts on her and him quickly away, lets his gaze again wander over the view he's not at all interested in.*

*The door is opened without a knock, and Commander Portsmith steps in, Abberline looks at her briefly, then turns back to stare out of the window*

Portsmith:  Now listen very carefully.  As you noticed, the door is not locked, this is not a prison cell.  *looks around her with satisfaction*  You can leave any time you want.  Or stay here as long as you want.  Actually, I got to say that this room is luxurious.  I planned the decoration myself, and it's pretty impressive, isn't it?  I got the furniture straight from some palace in Moscow, made a good deal with the Russian Maf—  … er … Russians.  They have lots of stuff so they won't mind some of it missing.  *strokes the wallpaper lovingly, glances at Abberline, who has not been listening*  Home decoration is wasted on you, I know.  Now, as I said, you are free to go when you want, but I don't suppose you will want to run straight to your precious friend Manouche now, do you?  *looks at him sharply*  Being the witch she is, she could read your mind and find something that greatly upsets her.  And by the way, your weird son is back.

Abberline *turns to look at her*  Raven?  He came back?  Are you sure?

Portsmith *shrugs*  I saw him myself, on a tape recorded in a warehouse you might recognize, since you yourself were there some time before with two guys whom I know well.  Didn't know you kept company with them.  Interesting.  So what are you going to do?  Your new friends have abandoned the city and your old friends won't want anything to do with you when they hear what you've done.

Abberline:  I know.  I can't face them.

Portsmith *grins*  Exactly.  But fortunately, you are not out of friends.  I am the only one you can rely on from now onwards.

Abberline *gives her a look of contempt and turns back to the window*

Portsmith *walks to the window beside him*  And when you have been evaluating your situation, you will see that you don't have any alternatives.  *spots her new SUV shining in the morning sun*  Nice car, isn't it ...  Get some rest.  I have to go to research my speech in the meantime.  We'll talk business later.

At Bournemouth House:

Sergeant Godley *returns to Bournemouth House in the morning, after a busy day and night at the Office, the Commander kept him occupied with reports and paperwork till late at night, blaming it on the absence of Constable Crane.  Godley opens the door and peeks in the living-room and stops to take the scene in:  the coffee table is upturned, there are shards of glasses and a whisky bottle on the carpet, and what is even more disturbing, there are bloodstains on the sofa and on the wallpaper near the door.  Worried, he climbs the stairs up and opens the bedroom door, and when he finds it's empty, he check the study, takes a look at the gruesome photos and reports, shakes his head and closes the folder.  He decides to go to Manouche to see if Abberline's there, walks as fast as he can and knocks at their door, out of breath.*

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Blake *answers door*  Sergeant Godley, come in.  We’re in the kitchen, just having a little breakfast.  Nothing very grand this morning, with everything that’s been goin’ on ... just fruit an' cheese, some really good baguettes ... an' some olives, all from Grape's.  Coffee an' juice, of course, or hot chocolate if you prefer.  *looks back toward kitchen, then puts hand up, motions for Godley to step back out on front porch, closes door quietly*  Before we go in, Sergeant, I should mention a coupla things to you.  *speaks in soft voice*  Raven came back yesterday.  He came back in a hurry, to tell me where I could find Manouche, just as I’d come home and found she was missing.  He’d seen it all in a vision, he knew she was in trouble, she’d been kidnapped.  By the men from the Order, the same ones who threatened you and me, the same ones Abberline met with at Chez Roux.  We were able to get her back, and she’s fine.  But Raven …  *glances back toward door that he’d pulled shut, then looks back at Godley* … Raven’s healthy enough, but he doesn’t remember everything.  I guess the biggest thing is, he doesn’t remember his dad.  We figure he blocked him out, maybe he was traumatized by what he read in that journal.  I wanted to warn you … ‘cause he may not remember you, either.  He’s been through a lot, we’re not sure what all happened to him, but he’s troubled.  So we don't want to pressure him too much.  We’re just lettin’ him take it easy, recover a little, an’ hopefully things’ll start comin’ back to him.  Manouche an’ I’ll fill you in on everything that happened yesterday, but … maybe we shouldn’t get into it too much in front of him.  *pauses, looks at him*  By the way, where is the Inspector this morning?  I was pretty worried about him yesterday, he wasn't well at all.  I'd never seen him quite like that.

Godley *listening to Blake with astonishment*  Manouche kidnapped?  And Raven back?  Now that was something, and I haven't heard a bit.  The Commander kept me at work till late at night, so I missed the whole party, it seems.  What did you say, doesn't remember his dad?  Poor kid!  *stops and looks longingly towards the closed door*  Maybe it is best that I don't disturb him at all.  Fact is, I thought the Inspector would be here.  I – I went to Bournemouth House, and it seems that something's happened there, there were bloodstains in the living-room, an upturned table and glass shards on the floor ...  So he is not here.  *worried, sighs*  So when was it you saw him last?  Him being unwell is nothing out of the ordinary, but I am still worried.  I should not have left him alone.

Blake *eyes wide*  What could’ve happened to him?  You suppose someone broke in to his house?  Who would have it in for him enough to do something like that?  I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon, an’ he was very upset.  Seemed like every few minutes, he was changing the subject, or saying he didn’t think he could “do this,” that’s what he kept saying.  He’d been looking at all those photos and documents about his wife, that can’t be good for him.  And then … and this was his suggestion … we went shopping.  *grins*  He wanted to help me find an engagement ring for Manouche.  Think I found one, too.  He said he wanted to do it to pay back her kindness to him, an’ it was a fine idea, he was damn helpful.  But … he shouldn’t have done it, Sergeant, I think it brought back too many painful memories for him.  *shakes head*  Bloodstains … I don’t like the sound of this at all.  *looks back at door, turns to Godley*  You’re more than welcome to come in, but I don’t think we should mention this to Manouche and Raven.  Or, if you’d rather … I can come with you now, help you look for him.  Maybe he’s at From Hell Court.

Godley:  Doesn't look like someone broke in, no traces of that.  I saw those files were once again on the desk, with all those gruesome pictures.  He has kept them all, and I know that he reads them from time to time.  I agree, it can't be very healthy ...  *incredulously*  He wanted to shop an engagement ring for Manouche with you?  *grins*  My congratulations to you, but that doesn't sound like him at all.  Not at all.  Didn't it strike you as odd?  I don't think I am coming in now, I would not want to upset Manouche any more.  I think I'll take a walk to From Hell Court.  *sighs*  I am sure I will find him there.  You can come with, I would appreciate it, but isn't your place now with Manouche?  She would certainly not want to be alone now.

Blake:  I agree with you, it didn't sound like the Inspector at all, wanting to help with browsing jewelry stores.  I did think it was weird, but he was so insistent.  He said he saw it as a way to put some of his feelings to rest.  I kept telling him he didn't have to do it.  It seemed to upset him so much.  *scratches head, looks back at door*  I think you’re right, I should stay here.  I feel a little better with Raven being here with Manouche, and you'll be surprised when you see how much more grown-up he seems.  But he is still just a boy.  And I don’t want her to know what’s going on with Abberline, she’d be very upset.  She would never let us go looking for him without her.  Let’s not worry her till we know for a fact he’s missing.  I … I guess I offered to come along because I saw him last … guess I feel a little responsible.  But I must stay with Manouche.  She swears she’s out of danger from the Order, at least for now, though I still don’t understand it … she hasn’t told me everything.  I don’t know why she was spared … *looks at Godley*  Go ahead for now, but let me know what you find out.  If Abberline comes here, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.  And if there’s anything we can do later, let us know.  Sure hope he’s all right.  Oh, and Sergeant … don’t be too hard on yourself for leavin’ the Inspector alone.  I go through this with Manouche all the time.  *smiles slightly*  We can’t watch ‘em every minute of every day.

Godley:  No, you  are right on that, it's just that I have grown so used to looking after him, he's like a little brother to me ...  I am sure I will find him unharmed.  Raven may not remember me either, but you can always ask him if he remembers the London barges, so much nicer they were than any pirate ships.  Sorry, Blake, I didn't mean anything with that.  *grins*  I'll see you later.  By the way, did you get the ring?  And tell Manouche I miss her croissants.

Blake *grins, slightly puzzled expression*  I’ll ask Raven about the barges.  You never know, he may remember you.  We’re hopin’ he’ll remember everything eventually … that things’ll just keep comin’ back to him slowly.  *pauses*  I think I found the ring.  They’re holding it for me, I’ll go back for it in a coupla days … need a little more money.  It’s a little more than I planned to spend, but … she deserves it.  *looks down for a moment, overcome*  Sh-she was makin’ croissants yesterday when … *swallows*  Sorry, Sergeant.  I know how you feel … I shouldn’t have left her alone, either.  I know what I just said about watchin’ ‘em every minute, how it’s impossible … but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.  *steadies his voice, looks back up at Godley, smiles*  I – I’m sure she’ll have croissants for you next time you stop by.  *shakes his hand*  Good luck findin’ Abberline.  And thank him again for his help yesterday.  I wouldn’t have known where to start.

At Chateau Blanchefort:

*Abberline* tries the door handle and to his amazement the door really is unlocked.  Instead of going out, he returns to the window, chain-smoking cigarettes, looking at the town, trying not to think of anything, but he keeps hearing the men tell about his wife's last horrible moments, about how miserable she felt with him, about her divorce plan.*

Portmsith *some hours later, enters the room*  So how are you doing now?

Abberline:  Can I have something, I am not feeling well.

Portsmith:  Of course, anything you want, except drugs, absinth, cigarettes and coffee.  Stop poisoning yourself.  I recommend green tea.  *looks at him closely*  You look wretched.  I can give you something for the headache.  You see, I am in an exceptionally generous mood.  The great moment is near: the unveiling of the Commander Portsmith Equestrian Statue.  *glowers indignantly at Abberline*  Do try to show some interest.

Abberline:  Can't wait for the ceremony.

Portsmith:  Enough.  Now, I said earlier that you have no alternatives, but actually I can offer you several options.  First, I could take you back to work at the Security.  Now, I know that I can't trust you at all, but as I said, I am a generous person and ready to forgive your betrayal.

Abberline:  No.  I don't want to work for you.

Portsmith *shrugs, smiles broadly*  Good.  Let's see ... Instead of work, you could go to the hospital and cooperate with Dr. Rainey, or, if you don't fancy that, I can get you place at some walled-up detox clinic.  I could also arrest you for murder and have you convicted.  Not even that pain-in-the-neck-Webster could save you from a prison sentence.  And, last, I won't prevent you from going home to your empty house and live there entirely alone if that is what you wish, seeing how all your former friends shun you, desert you for good.  Even Sergeant Godley.  The fact is, you see, pirates are a pest in this town and they have a bad habit of sneaking on my premises.  Some pirate in the mood of thieving might find some interesting recordings about a certain warehouse ... Think about it.  I am now your only friend, dear Fred.  And as a friend, I am ready to help you.

Abberline *looks at her resignedly*  I see.