Part 39

At the Office:

Abberline *leaves home for the Office, makes sure that Portsmith is not there, goes straight to her secretary, a young male with deep brown eyes and sharp cheekbones, wearing a ragged open white shirt, and having a tattoo of an Indian on his left arm* I need a copy of the invoice on the surveillance memory chips.

Secretary: Sure. Is there a problem? I mean, it is already paid.

Abberline: No, I just want to see it. And the original order for comparison.

Secretary *goes after the papers, after a while returns with the copies, hands them to Abberline* They were classified as highly confidential, but I guess I can give them to you, after all, they have your signature.

Abberline: Thanks. *takes a look at the papers; both of them have his signature elegantly written. It looks almost like his own handwriting, almost, but not exactly.* Look, can you get me a folder for the copies?

Secretary: Of course, Inspector!

Abberline *switches the copies and originals while the secretary is away, not caring to wait for him to return, goes out, heads toward his favourite bar at From Hell Court to have some absinthe for his steadily worsening headache and to inspect the papers closer; but before he goes in he sees Malachi, turns around on his heels, unsure for a while what to do, he finally walks down the stairs to the opium den*

Malachi *stops mid-drink as he sees Abberline go down the stairs* I’ll be damned … *he’s taken by surprise at how quickly and violently his anger consumes him. With an effort, he forces himself to relax, downs his drink in one gulp, orders another. Drinks it a little more slowly as he contemplates what to do. Finishes it, orders a third … picks up the glass, heads down the stairs, approaches Abberline* Inspector … haven’t seen you in a long time. Where you been keeping yourself? Don’t tell me you’ve decided to cut back on your romps with the ol’ dragon? *manages a congenial smile*

Abberline *with a heavy sigh, turns to look at him* Ah, it's you. As a matter of fact, I am cutting back. But you seem to be always here. Might be good for you, too. You look strained.

Malachi: You may be right. *pauses* I suppose I am always here. It's our misfortune that we both picked the same favorite watering hole. And I don't imagine either of us wishes to change locale at this point. There's a lot to be said for the ... comfort zone. Take this place ... *looks around* The bloke who runs it, he knows you, you trust him ... you know he won't rip you off. Trust is a precious thing, isn't it? You can't buy that, though there are those who try. You essentially trust the guy who runs this den with your welfare. You'd be crazy to walk away from that. Now me ... I just like it here. Prettiest waitresses work here. And more often than not, I can get in on a good card game. I have no intention of looking for a new hangout. So you and I, we'll just give each other a wide berth from now on. I don't suppose we have a whole lot to say to each other. *pauses, takes a drink* I was wondering how Raven's doing. I saw him not long ago, we just happened to be on the same ship for a little while. Small world, huh? He didn't even know his own name when I first saw him, the damndest thing. But then things started coming back to him. Well, that is, after I helped him along with one of my little drink mixes ... I saw a lot of memories come back to him, but he couldn't remember you, for some reason. How do you reckon that one out? I even tried to remind him of the time he turned into a wolf and saved you from Nate. He barely remembered he's a shapeshifter. It came back to him just in time. He was able to turn into a bird, escape from the ship ... so he could come back to rescue Manouche. Such a brave kid. *glances around room again* I hear you're working for Commander Portsmith again. I hope you can do some REAL good this time. Lotta scores that need to be settled in this town. Lotta unfinished business. *looks toward the stairs, his expression grim; then he turns back, looks at Abberline, smiles disarmingly* Right, I'm off. No worries, I won't bother you again. From now on, we come and go, it can be like it was before, when we didn't know each other. Good luck with being back on the force, Inspector, and give my regards to Sergeant Godley. *nods slightly, turns, goes back up the stairs, resumes his place at the bar. Orders another drink, lights cigarette; forces his mind off Abberline, and thinks about the mysterious woman from the night before; murmurs* Kiss and run ... *shakes head, takes drink*

Abberline *looks after him for long, shrugs, takes the pipe, decides that he's finally through with Raven, tries to convince himself that he feels nothing the worse for it. The unwanted kid ... But Raven will always remind Manouche of him, even though Raven never would remember him. She never fails to remind him that he's Raven father. The only thing why she cares ... cared for him ... His mind begins to wander as the drug begins to work ... Manouche, Raven, Godley ... all lost to him ....* Well Daphne darling, from now on, it is only you and me.

At the Wonkas’ factory:

*Raven sits in the chocolate room, head in his hand, eating some of the grass. Willy walks in, three oompas behind him, all carrying clipboards. He carries one himself, talking out loud. It seems like the oompas write every word he says down*

Willy: .....So eventually the chocolate waterfall will have to be turned off, probably for a day or so, so we can clean the wall. Then we can go through the plants, anything that needs to be replanted can be dug up, discarded, then replaced with fresh Wonka seeds.... *looks up for a second, then back down, then up again, sees Raven, hands his clipboard to one of the oompas* Take a break, guys. *he crosses over the small bridge to pass the waterfall, walks over to Raven, sits down next to him. Takes some grass, bites it softly* So what’s up, kiddo?

Raven: Madame's awful cranky. Aint she?

Willy: *laughs* Yea. But she's got a good excuse. *moves cane over a bit, stretches out his legs, leaning on his palms* Something we're never gonna understand.

Raven: Times two.

Willy: *smirks* Yea, times two.

Raven: *pauses, continues to look at the chocolate river* Did ya ever ask her if it was worth it?

Willy: *glances at Raven, then look back at the river* Every day.

Raven: What does she say?

Willy: Well...in so many words, she says she wouldn’t have it any other way

Raven: You believe her?

Willy: *nods* We never lie to each other.

Raven: *smiles at Willy* Mr. Wonka, you an' Madame are really gonna have a good life together.

Willy: *smiles at Raven* Think so, huh?

Raven: *taps head* I know these things. *pauses, they both look back at the river* Hey, Mr. Wonka?

Willy: Yea?

Raven: I get the basic idea of what happens when a couple decides they want a baby, but ... how’s it actually ... happen?

Willy *arches brow at him, clears throat* Uh ... well ... umm ... I .. I .. uh think that’s something you should talk to Manouche about.

Raven: Why?

Willy: Well ... I tend to be pretty … blunt with a lot of things, so ... I may not be the best person to ask.

Raven: Oh ... *looks back at the river, Willy watches with him, pats his head a few times*

*later that night, Madame and Raven head to Manouche's suite, where Raven will spend the night*

Madame: Alright, sweetie, climb into bed

Raven: *jumps up onto the big bed, crawls right in the middle, Madame helps him get under the covers* Ya know, you guys are lucky.

Madame *laughs lightly* Why’s that?

Raven: Well look at where yer living!

Madame: *laughs* Well I guess you could say it has benefits.

Raven: I'll say! *pauses, looking around the room* Ya know somethin' Madame?

Madame *fixing covers so he's nice and secure* Hmm?

Raven *looks at her with such a stare, it makes her stop and look back* You're gonna be a great mommy.

Madame *slowly grins* I hope so Raven ... I really do … *pauses, thinking about the twins, then finishes fixing the covers* Alright, you. Time to get some sleep.

Raven: 'Night!

Madame *kisses his head* Goodnight sweetie. *stands up straight, walks to door, before closing it, stares at Raven, whose eyes are closed, smile fades, whispers* Please let me do a good job. *smiles at Raven, closes door behind her*

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche *with Blake in the study doing some writing, she goes to the kitchen, makes herself a Kir Royale. Picks up the glass, also brings the notebook she received from Jerod, and steps out onto the patio. Makes herself comfortable in one of the chairs, takes a drink, gazes out at the river contentedly, enjoys the unseasonably cool air. Looks down at her engagement ring, sees it sparkle, thinks again of how Blake looked when he slipped it on his finger; feels a happiness she thinks perhaps she’s never quite felt before, smiles. Takes another drink, sets glass down; takes a deep breath, picks up notebook, starts to read. The writing is confusing because it’s not like a journal – it’s more a series of notes, jotted ideas, thoughts, outlines. She feels frustrated, thinking it’s going to be hard to make anything of it; wonders if she should just forget about it until she sees Kat and Jerod again. But it keeps nagging at her, so she starts flipping through it again. About a third of the way through, she comes upon a few pages that more closely resemble a journal; she reads various passages with mild interest:*

I remember when I first became aware of her plans. She was a fool, to discuss everything so freely in such a small community. What on earth did she think she would accomplish, even if she were to succeed? Could she really have been so naïve that she didn’t realize I would move heaven, earth and hell to stop her? Mr. LaCroix had made his choice, and his choice happened to be my kin. But then, Loralee has never been known for her grace, esp. in the face of adversity.

*Manouche frowns as she sees Loralee’s name. The paragraphs that follow seem to concern other matters, so she flips a page or two, where another passage catches her eye:*

Loralee’s melodrama brought out the worst in me, I must confess. I’ve never had much tolerance for silly girls (regardless of their chronological age) who cannot accept things as they are, who insist upon manipulating others to a ludicrous degree. Her lack of dignity, her angry tirades and loud oaths sworn to the stars eventually inspired in me a dashed entertaining idea. I suppose I experienced a moment or two of genuine pity for LaCroix, and his cursed dumb luck to be cast by necessity as the expendable pawn in my scheme. But that regret passed quickly, for I lost all conscience and compassion toward mankind the day I turned my back forever on the finite life, the truncated sunrise … poor, short-sighted mortals …

Manouche *sighs, reaches for her drink, takes another sip, turns a page; nearly drops the glass as a name leaps up at her from the next entry*

For it all to have played out the way it did … extraordinary! At first, it was so amusing. Though adult in years, Loralee was like a horrid, spoiled, unprincipled brat, the kind a doting aunt – usually one with a sizeable estate that the immediate family stands to profit nicely from – will bring to tea; leaving the other guests chafing, biting their tongues, expending all efforts to keep from throttling rich auntie’s little darling with their genteel, gloved hands. Everyone knows at least one child like this. To have in one’s orbit an adult of a similar nature is tiresome, to say the least. Such a brat invariably begs to be baited, and Loralee was no exception. If it sounds like I’m making excuses, I suppose I am. For though I had little personal feeling for the aforementioned LaCroix – beyond the fact that I knew he was a good man, and he was adored by my descendant, my pet, my beautiful Danielle; and he, in turn, adored her – still, even I was surprised at Loralee’s willingness to do my bidding. Well, in all honesty, her bidding; I couldn’t have made her do it if the desire weren’t already there … the poisonous jealousy in her heart …

Manouche *whispers* Danielle … *turns the page, keeps reading*

What would’ve happened, had I not intervened? Would she have been satisfied killing Danielle and Danielle alone? Speculation of this nature matters not; I never would have let her harm Danielle. Loralee is a strong subject, quite possibly the strongest of the many beings to whom I’ve given this dark life. I could almost laugh from the cliché of having created a monster, were it not so very true. Who knew she would respond so readily to my suggestion that she kill him? And I certainly didn’t expect her to kill the child, as well. I can still see her, standing over LaCroix’s body, and that of his child, lifeless next to him. Ah, the fury of a woman scorned! But alas, Loralee, could not even indulge in the comfort of having been scorned. She was fool enough to believe that Danielle had bewitched LaCroix, that it was all her fault. She believes it to this day. But LaCroix had never cared for Loralee, had never even remotely trifled with her. He had loved Danielle from the start, even before there was a child. The child … was it Danielle’s? Did they keep its parentage secret because they were not married? LaCroix always claimed the child was from a previous marriage, and that his wife had died. But he could have lied, to protect the child, in particular.

Manouche *stares at the page, turns it quickly, but the next few pages are blank. She flips hurriedly through a few more, then comes upon more:*

The Charron ancestry records are dodgy at best, so I cannot be sure. Danielle lived for quite some time after LaCroix was murdered, though I’m unsure how many years she survived him. Sufficient records exist indicating that she was never quite the same, she never married … there also exist rumors of another child, but I’ve yet to find sufficient evidence of it. A child between her and LaCroix, or her and another suitor? Unknown. It was 1783 Paris; family records of royalty and aristocracy were in danger of being lost forever, in such upheaval and revolution. What chance did the Charron records stand of deferential regard at the time? Therefore, I have little of notarized consequence to go on insofar as proof. But if appearances are any indication at all – and her resemblance to the face in the painting is uncanny – Manouche Roussel may very well be a direct descendent of Danielle Charron. This means Loralee, whose hate has only compounded over the centuries, still holds any and all Charron ancestry responsible for her ruined happiness. Further, from my observations, it’s my considered opinion that Loralee may have convinced herself that this pirate Roussel is Danielle, reincarnated. If Manouche is indeed a Charron ancestor, I am compelled to assist for the obvious reasons; I would no more allow harm to befall my Danielle’s descendent than I would have allowed it to Danielle herself. However, if this is all a remarkable coincidence and Manouche is no relation, I still feel the desire to intervene on her behalf, for two reasons: one, Loralee is a delusional fool, and I find her so pathetic, it will be my pleasure to stop her; and two, I would help Manouche for her friendship to Kat, for whom I have become very fond …

At Bournemouth House:

*Many hours later, Abberline returns home, walking unsteady, but feeling better. He takes a long time to get the door open, and when he finally manages to do it, he forgets they keys in the lock and leaves the door ajar. Makes it to the living-room, drops his jacket on the floor and slumps into the nearest arm-chair.*

*It's already dark when Sergeant Godley return to Bournemouth House, looks suspiciously at the house, but it is completely dark and silent. He picks up his keys, but sees the door is open, worried, cautiously he goes in without switching on any light in case of unwanted intruders. Instead, he finds Abberline asleep in a chair. When he takes a closer look, he sees that he's been chasing the dragon again.*

Godley *with a sigh, shakes him* Wake up, Inspector. What would little Miss Susnhine say if she saw you like this?

Abberline *instantly awake, tries to get up, but Godley holds him back* What? You?

Godley: I am sorry for my intrusion, Inspector, sorry for disappointing you. I expect you were waiting for someone else. I see. I better be going then.

Abberline: Godley, don't be a fool, I am relieved you are back. She's not coming today, and I haven't given her any keys.

Godley: Thank goodness for that. Well, we better have you in shape then. *helps him up* You go and get a good sleep. I will be back tomorrow, I see it isn't worth the while to discuss any serious matters with you today. I'll help you upstairs.

Godley *returns to the living-room after a while, picks up the jacket from the floor, and even though he feels miserable for it, he checks the pockets, finds a pic and some papers, looks at them, they are just some invoices from Security so he puts them back; then looks at Victoria and gets a good idea. He leaves the jacket draped over the chair, puts the photo back so that a corner sticks out* I bet little Miss is a curious one ... *Not yet satisfied, he goes upstairs, take the framed photo without the glass, two wedding photos, one where Abberline and Victoria stand at the church gate smiling happily, one where they exchange a kiss, he goes to the living-room and hangs the wedding pics on the wall, and leaves the framed one on a shelf. Smiles, goes to the kitchen, where his smile immediately fades when he sees the two coffee mugs, the other having a lipstick stain, and the old rolls with crumbs on the table. He cleans the kitchen and leaves the house – and leaves the door as it was – and on his way home, he walks by the hospital, writes a short note in Abberline's name at the reception, addresses it to Daphne and leaves it at the reception*

"Daphne, my dear, I need a nurse tonight … Love, your Freddie"

Godley *stops at the entrance, begins to have doubts. What if she doesn't bother to go to the house because she has no keys? With a heavy sigh, he returns to the reception, hands over his keys to Bournemouth House*

Godley: Will you please give her these together with the message?

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche *slowly closes the journal, stunned by everything she’s just read. Puts the journal in her coat pocket, picks up the glass, finishes the drink. She’s just about to go in and tell Blake all about it, when she hears someone coming; she turns, smiles broadly, jumps up from her chair as Willy, Madame and Raven come around the corner from the front of the house. Raven sees her, breaks into a run, throws himself at her, hugs her tightly*

Manouche: Ahh, lil’ mate! I’m so glad t’ see ye. *kisses him on the cheek, releases him* Did ye ‘ave a good time?

Raven *nods excitedly* I’ve never seen anything like that factory … it’s even more magical than Mr. Wonka said it is …

Manouche: Lived up to th’ hype, eh? *winks at Willy* Things’ll seem right dull after all that, I reckon.

Raven: Well, it was great … but I missed our river. *grins*

Manouche: Well, ‘ave at it then, luv, it’s been waitin’ fer ye. *waves toward river.*

Raven *starts toward it, then turns around, runs up to Madame, hugs her. Goes to Willy, holds hand out to shake* Thank you for everything, Mr. Wonka. *Willy smothers a grin as he formally shakes Raven’s hand. Raven then turns and bolts for the riverbank*

Manouche *watches him go, then turns to Willy and Madame, hugs them both* Blimey, good t’ see th’ pair o’ ye. S’ about time fer us to come stay with ye, innit? *smiles at Madame*

Blake *appears in doorway* I thought I heard voices. *walks outside to join them, pats Willy on the shoulder, gives Madame a kiss on the cheek.* Thanks for taking care of Raven for us. We, ah … had a few things to talk about. *comes over to Manouche, puts arm around her*

Manouche: Aye, that we did … *holds out her hand, shows them her ring*

Madame *eyes grow wide, grabs Manouche's hand, grinning ear to ear* Oh my dear Manouche!!! It's GORGEOUS!!!

Willy *takes her hand carefully, touches the ring with his thumb* Absolutely.

Madame *grinning at the ring, turns back to Blake and Manouche* We can’t wait for you guys to come over!

Willy: Her in particular.

Madame: And you wouldn’t mind the help.

Willy: Not at all, actually. *turns back to Manouche* We'll have to clean up your suite first. Little Raven claimed it last night, so it's a bit of a mess.

Loralee *hides behind some trees by the edge of the grounds; her eyes fixed on Manouche with a cold expression* Soon ... too many friends to protect you now, but sooner or later you will be alone and then I shall get my revenge. *creeps away from the grounds and heads for the Sleepy Hollow woods.*

Willy *hears whispering, turns his head to look behind him, right by the trees. Sees nothing. Arches brow, then turns back around*

Manouche *smiles at Willy* No worries, brother, we’ve grown accustomed to Raven’s clutter, as it were. Mr. Blake has a coupla obligations to Pam … he’s got a bit o’ work in the studio … but then he’s done, an’ we can come stay at th’ factory till Madame’s twins are born. We’ll wrap things up ‘ere, an’ be there day after tomorrow, savvy? *looks at Madame, who’s looking a little woozy* C’mon, luv, come over ‘ere an’ sit down. I know it’s good fer ye to get out a bit, even this late in yer condition, but ye still shouldn’t overdo. *helps Madame into one of the chairs, the others pull up chairs near her* By th’ way … Mr. Blake tells me there’s a funny story behind lil’ mate windin’ up at yer place fer th’ night. But he never regaled me. What ‘appened?

Blake *grins as Willy looks a little embarrassed* Come on, Willy, you can tell your sister! You have to admit, it was kinda funny.

Willy: Ahehehehe well umm... it was stupid really....no point in telling everyone.

Madame: Oh no I think there is a point.

Willy: Nah nah nah.

Madame: hahaha well I wasnt here for the whole thing, if I was I'd tell you. *looks at Blake* But Blake was. *grins*

Manouche *laughs* Well, somebody tell me! *looks at Blake*

Blake *smiles* Okay, I’ll tell. *tries not to laugh at Willy’s startled face, puts arm around Manouche* You hadn’t been gone more than a half hour, you’d gone to The Viper … Raven and I were here … and there was a knock at the door … that’s putting it mildly …

*screen goes all wavy as Blake tells his story – yes, folks, it’s Depp Shadows’ first flashback! … *

Willy *comes stomping down the street, turns at Manouche and Blake's house, knocks on door loudly*

Willy: MANOUCHE. Open the door!!!! I need to talk to you!!

Blake *answers door* Willy! What’s wrong? Manouche isn’t here, she’s workin’ on The Viper. What’s goin’ on, can I help?

Willy *punches the wall, seems to feel nothing, turns back to Blake* Kim's locked herself in the master library. I can’t get her out, no matter what I do.

Blake *eyebrows raised, glances at the wall, looks at Willy* Well … what happened, did you two have a fight? Manouche is usually better at these things than I am, but … if you think it’d help, I’ll come over, try to talk to her. *glances toward hallway* I probably should bring Raven along.

Willy: No! I saw her go in, tried to open it, she locked it. It's too heavy of a door so I couldn’t get it down. I asked her to open it, she said just give a a few moments of privacy, I thought I heard her crying so I tried again. She won’t open it! *looks down hallway* Raven can come, that’s fine.

Blake: Okay, just be a minute. *goes down hallway, soon returns with Raven.* Let's go. And don't worry, Willy, we'll sort it out. *They leave the house, follow Willy to the factory, through the main entrance. An oompa appears to assist, and Willy asks him to take Raven, show him around. Oompa escorts Raven toward the chocolate room; Willy leads Blake to the library. Blake listens at door, knocks* Madame? Kim? Are you in there? It's me, Blake. Are you all right?

*a small sound continues behind the door, neither Blake nor Willy know what it is*

Willy: I can’t figure out what the sound is. It's been playing since she locked herself in there. *all the sudden, the door unlocks, an oompa peeks his head out*

Willy: WHAT THE HELL?! YOU WERE IN THERE THE WHOLE TIME?! *Oompa nods* WHY DIDNT YOU UNLOCK THE DAMNED DOOR?!

Oompa *in a mild voice* Madame instructed the only reason I was here was to make sure she would be all right. I was not to answer the door to ANYONE. *grins* She gave me FOUR whole cocoa beans for it. *opens hand, shows the cocoa beans to Willy*

Willy: Why did you open the door now?

Oompa: When Master Blake came and Madame heard him, she nodded at me to unlock the door.

Willy: And what is she doing?

Oompa *smiles, opens door all the way, Madame is to the left, by the window, playing the violin, plays carefully the notes to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, sings it softly* "How I wonder what you are ... up above the world so high ... "

Oompa *smile remains* To the children ... *Willy stares at Madame, speechless*

Blake *approaches Madame, nods, gives her his most gentlemanly smile* Madame, I’m sorry to interrupt, and you don’t have to explain if you want, it’s enough to know you’re safe. But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you let Willy know you were practicing so he wouldn’t worry? And … while I’m flattered you were willing to let me in, why me and not Willy?

Madame *still plays softly, eyes closed, speaks quietly, seems to be speaking to the notes* Well I figured I'd like to have some private time alone with my children. Call it a mother's intuition. As for opening the door when you came, when your husband gets so worried he goes out to get your own brother for help, it may be time to open the door. *opens eyes, smiles at him* Right?

Blake *shrugs, nods* I guess so, dear. *smiles, kisses her on the cheek* Long as you’re all right, we’ll just leave you to it. Sounds beautiful. *turns to Willy, smothers a laugh as he sees that Willy is totally exasperated. Holds hand up to him behind Madame’s back, to warn him not to say anything he may regret. Motions Willy out of the room, talks to him in a low voice in the hall, still trying not to laugh* Now Willy, I know you’re about at the end of your rope, I know she about drove you crazy with worry, but it’s almost over. You’re doing fine … she’ll be back to normal after the twins are born, you’ll see. Don’t upset her now, just let it go.

Willy *sighs, throws up his hands* But she ... and then she ... *pretends to play the violin* Without tellin’! COME ONNNN!

Blake: I know, I know. But trust me! It’s a phase. You know she’s not usually like this. And when she comes out of it, she’ll remember how patient you were, and that’ll mean everything to her. So don’t blow it. Or, as Manouche would say, steady on, mate. *grins* Now go in there, compliment her on her playing, give her a kiss, tell her you love her, and that you’ll leave her to her music for now … and give that oompa another cocoa bean or two for keepin’ an eye on her.

Willy *stomps foot once, grunts, sighs, throws head back* Okay, okay, okay, I'll do it. *goes back into the library, kisses Madame on the cheek* Lovely, darling. *Madame closes her eyes, continues to play, nods*

Willy *nods, turns to the oompa, reaches in his coat, pulls out two cocoa beans* Thank you. *oompa nods, Willy walks out, closes door* Thanks, Blake. I guess I overreacted a little.

Blake *grins* Anytime.

*scene gets all wavy, everything dissolves, returns to the patio at Manouche and Blake’s house, as Blake finishes the story*

Blake: And that’s what happened. It was nothin’, just a misunderstanding. We went to find Raven, and he was having such a great time exploring the factory, Willy suggested he stay the night. *smiles at Manouche* Which gave me an idea on how we could spend our evening alone. *pulls her close, kisses her cheek*

Manouche *laughs, looks at Willy, who’s looking uncomfortable* Well, me brother, ye never was known fer your patience, that’s true enough. S’alright, though, don’t mess with it. It gives you yer passion, as well, an’ that’s a good quality. An’ now, I think drinks are in order. Madame’s lookin’ parched, an’ I could do with a Kir Royale meself. Stay put, all o’ ye, I’ll bring ‘em out ‘ere. Too nice a day to be inside, savvy? *kisses Blake, rises, goes to kitchen to make drinks*

Willy: I still felt like a moron for doing that.

Madame *grins, pats his hand* A little bit of time with my children should be nothing.

Willy: No it wasn’t. I just didn’t know.

Madame: It’s alright, love.

Willy *smiles* Besides ... a few more weeks and we can each have one!

Madame *laughs* Oh so THAT was your idea?

Willy *grins, giggles* Hey, two for two!

Madame *laughs* We'll see.

At Deppville Hospital:

Daphne *finished with work for the day, is heading out as the receptionist stops her. And by the way, this is as good a time as any to mention that the hospital receptionist bears a striking and most thudworthy resemblance to Portsmith’s secretary*

Receptionist *in low Kentucky mumble* Daphne, someone left a message for you …

Daphne *approaches the desk, takes the note and keys* Thank you, see you tomorrow. *leaves hospital, reads note, surprised; looks at keys thoughtfully. Starts toward her apartment, then changes her mind and heads for Bournemouth House.*

At Bournemouth House:

Arrives at the house, sees that the door is ajar. Steps in cautiously, closes door behind her, looks around* Freddie? You here, sugar? I got your note … *slowly walks through house, listening carefully, hears nothing. Makes her way into the living room, notices pictures she didn’t remember seeing before. Steps up to them for a closer look, studies them for a moment. Goes into drawing room, to the chest of drawers where she found the jewelry; opens top drawer, rummages around, sees nothing of interest; then a written name catches her eye. She pulls a piece of notepaper out, reads the letter Manouche wrote and left with Abberline after he opened up to her, after she had read his journal. Recalling that this is the name she heard him say in his sleep – and that the context was obviously a nightmare – she re-reads the letter, commits several passages to memory:*

I’m honored to have been taken into your confidence. Rest assured that everything we spoke of stays with me …

Your life can be whatever you choose to make of it, and so can Raven’s, savvy? Hang science! A predilection for certain behavior doesn’t mean that’s how it has to be …

We’re here for you and we’ll not turn away from you …

We’ll return tomorrow to see how you fare after Malachi’s treatment …

Daphne: Manouche. Raven? *frowns, puzzled, especially surprised to see a reference to Malachi. Thinks about the times Malachi had her smuggle something in to Abberline when he was in the hospital. Shrugs, puts the letter back in the drawer. Is about to close the drawer, when she sees something shiny; brings it forth, sees that it’s a medal of some sort, attached to a card. Reads card, learns that it’s an FPM, a Fiji Police Medal, awarded to Abberline for meritorious service. Removes it from the card, pins it on her shirt, steps over to mirror, admires it. Thinks for a moment, then takes it off, puts it back on card, places it back in the drawer, closes drawer softly. Returns to living room, looks again at the pictures on the wall, and the framed portrait on the shelf. Leaves living room, walks upstairs; before she reaches the head of the stairs, she hears Abberline moaning in his sleep again. She quickens her pace, runs to the bedroom, where he’s tossing; she hears him once again say Manouche’s name. She comes to the side of the bed, reaches down, grabs his arms, shakes him gently* Freddie! Freddie, wake up, it’s okay. It’s just a dream …

Abberline *slowly getting out of the dream* Manouche, is it really you? I ... *and then he realizes it's Daphne, looking worried at him* Daphne? I – I wasn't expecting you tonight ... *pulls her down on the bed* I'm glad you're here ...

Daphne *smiles, embraces him, kisses him* I’m glad, too. I was so happy to get your— Wait a minute. *pulls back slightly* Why weren’t you expecting me? Did you think I wouldn’t come, after you asked me to? Oh, Freddie … *she wraps her arms around him, completely enveloping him, her long red hair falling down around him* Some woman must’ve really done a number on you, for you to ask a girl to come see you and then be so certain she won’t show. *kisses his mouth, looks at him, her expression very serious* Sugar … I saw the stuff downstairs. You’ve got to forget her … she’s gone. She’s not here, I’m here. It’s that Manouche, isn’t it? She’s the one who hurt you. Why don’t you tell me all about it … might make you feel better to talk …

Abberline *confused, not understanding at all what she's talking about* Oh .. I ... What stuff? What do you mean? *decides it's easier not to ask what she means with the note. Maybe he did send a note to her, he has no clear memory of how he got home or what he did before that* Yes, I've been hurt by women … and I'd rather not talk about Manouche, she's … she's just someone ... There's a better way than talking if you want to help me to forget her. *swings her on her back beside him, kisses her neck, runs his fingers through her long hair* Can I trust you, Daphne? You won't let me down? I've learnt to be careful and I don't want to be hurt again ...

Daphne *sighs at his lips on her neck, presses against him, looks into his eyes* Have I given you a reason not to trust me? I know how it is to be hurt. You can trust me as much as I can trust you, sugar. Don’t hurt me, and we’ll get along just fine. But I gotta say, if you don’t want to talk about someone who was once important to you, you shouldn’t put her pictures up all over the place. *smiles* Anyway, life's too short to take it so seriously. You’re right, there are better ways to forget … *she pushes him back so she’s over him, knowing how much he loves her hair, lets it fall down around his face, kisses him passionately, pressing him down on the bed. She gazes into his eyes for a moment, then sits up suddenly* I’ll go make us a coupla drinks. You stay right here, I’ll bring ‘em up. *hops off the bed* Who’s that guy who buys your groceries, that Sergeant Gladstone? I sure hope he keeps your bar stocked with the makings for a Pink Squirrel. *stops at bedroom door, winks at him; turns, runs down the stairs*

Abberline *after she's gone* Pink Squirrels? I hope there's nothing of the sort in the fridge. *gets up, follows her downstairs, but instead of going to the kitchen after her, goes to the living-room and stops right by the door when he sees the pictures on the walls and the on the shelf. He stares at them in disbelief, not really sure that he didn't put them there himself. He takes the photo of Victoria and looks at it, and suddenly it seems to him that her smile is different; it's not the bright, carefree smile anymore, it's as if she was smiling at him ironically. He puts it back on the shelf, face down and goes to the kitchen, deciding not to correct her error about Manouche and Victoria, to avoid explaining it all to her* I think you are right, it's time to take those pictures down. What's gone is gone. But I'd like to have a picture of you, with your hair down. *goes to her and takes a lock in his hands, twirls it around his fingers, pulls her to him*

Daphne *wraps her arms around him* That’s easy enough, I have lots of pictures. I’ll bring you one next time. Now, come sit down at the table. I got out that absinthe stuff you like. *sits him down in front of a glass, the absinthe bottle to his left, she sits down in chair next to him, on his right side* I couldn’t find the stuff I need to make a Pink Squirrel, so I just grabbed a beer. *indicates one of Godley’s bottles of beer on the table. He reaches for the absinthe, she stops him* No you don’t! You wanted a nurse tonight, so I’m here to take care of you. *rises from chair; instead of walking around him, she leans across him to reach for the bottle, pressing her body against him, holding the position longer than necessary; looks at him, grins suggestively* Sorry, sugar, I guess I’m doing it all wrong, aren’t I? The proper way is to serve from the left.

Abberline *stares at her, says nothing, grabs her with one arm, sweeps everything off the table with the other; throws her down on the table, kisses her passionately*

Sergeant Godley *comes to Bournemouth House after looking his watch, figures that it's is safe because Daphne will be already at work at this time. He doesn't even have to knock, the door is still ajar, he walks in, first to the living-room where he to his satisfaction notes the photos still on the wall. Maybe Daphne walked out on the Inspector after seeing them. He goes upstairs to the bedroom, peeks in cautiously, but the bed is empty. They both are gone, so he decides to go to the kitchen to see if the fridge needs stocking. He goes to the kitchen and stops right at the door ...*

Abberline *wakes up hearing the door bang, with an aching back and feeling cold, realizes he's on the kitchen table wrapped in a tablecloth with Daphne curled up in his arms. A horrified Sergeant Godley stands in the doorway with his mouth open, backs off fast into the living-room without a sound. Abberline looks at the clock on the wall, it's already late; he leans in on Daphne and kisses her gently* Daphne, darling, wake up, you are late.

Daphne *looks up, sees the clock* Whoops! Guess I’ll be late today. *hops off the table, quickly dresses, kisses him* Gotta run, sugar … see you later. *dashes out of kitchen, glances in living room, sees Godley* ‘Bye, Sergeant Gadfrey. Thanks for the beer, I owe ya one! *runs out front door, heads for her apartment to get ready for work*

Abberline *joins Godley in the living-room* It was you, wasn't it. You put those photos up for her to see. It didn't work out though the way you wished. Why should she be concerned of something that happened long ago?

Godley *sulking* She's probably too stupid to be concerned about anything.

Abberline *sits down in an armchair, lights a cigarette* You don't approve of her, fine. She's attractive, young, funny, beautiful with a stunning body, what more would I need from a woman? She may not be intelligent, but then, I don't play chess with her.

Godley *shakes head, confused and sad* Whatever happened to you? I don't understand you anymore.

Abberline: Did you ever? You wanted me to be the way I was after Victoria. You wanted me to be weak and desperate. You say you wanted to help me, but it was just control you wanted over me, to feel yourself noble-minded and useful. You placed yourself above me. You did it all for yourself, not me.

Godley *listens to him patiently, with a blank expression, nods* If that is the way you feel, there is nothing more I can say. Why are you doing all this to yourself?

Abberline *relenting his words* Godley, I am sorry. I did not mean it. I don't have anything else ... Those men, they … they took her away from me. I wanted revenge, but they ... they won. She was going to leave me. And she knew she was dying because of me ... And I betrayed Manouche for nothing. Those Order men, they came into my house and told me that they would have given me the men anyway. It was all for nothing. I lived for revenge. Now there is nothing to live for. Manouche knows what I did, and she won't forgive me.

Godley: But ... but ... It doesn't have to be like that. You can talk to Manouche. I can talk to her. You don't have to take up with that ... that ... She is not worth it. You need someone better.

Abberline: Daphne. She's Daphne. She has a name. Are you going to say that I need someone like Manouche? You don't know everything ... You are saying that Daphne is not good enough for me. How do you know?

Godley: She isn't. She is not the kind of woman you need, and she isn't even the kind of woman you want. She's after your money.

Abberline: She can have it. I have no use for it. You said she was cheap.

Godley: I apologize, she is not cheap. She is going to be expensive for you, in all ways. How could you give her the earrings?

Abberline: I gave her the necklace, too.

Godley *groans* That's only a start. You will pay a big price for some moments of amusement. Did you give her the ring too? I guess that is what she is after.

Abberline: No, I did not. It's an engagement ring. Why should I give her that?

Godley: Thank goodness for that, at least. But I didn't come to talk about her. I came because of Manouche.

Abberline *warily* There's nothing more to talk about her. I told her myself what I did, she told me she can't ever forgive me. And she doesn't need to. I can't ever forgive myself. *stands up* I have to leave for the Office now.

Godley *stares after him, shaking his head*

In Sleepy Hollow Woods:

Loralee *walks through the forest; soundless as if floating a few inches above the forest floor, her long black dress moves softly in the wind as she walks, giving her a beautiful grace; her pitch-black hair adding to the beauty. As she approaches a cave in the western part of the woods, she begins humming along to a little tune that only she can hear. She reaches the cave and removes the branches hiding the entrance and enters the darkness. She’s startled startled upon hearing a cold voice*

Voice: Where have you been?

Loralee *approaches the dark figure sitting on the floor of the cave leaning against the cold wall; speaks softly* I was hoping to find that wrench Danielle alone, but … *voice fills with sadness like a disappointed little girl* … too many humans.

Voice *figure rises from the floor and meets her; his brown eyes looks at her adoringly* You shouldn’t be wandering off in daylight … it makes us weak … if you insist on getting revenge, at least wait till the cover of darkness when you are at your full strength. *traces an unseen line on her face with his thumb*

Loralee: No need to worry, Delano … no one saw me.

Delano: Good … but be careful. *expression of concern* I don’t like this town, there is darkness here, but there are also those who will fight us. I wish you’d forget about this Danielle business.

Loralee *fury flashes in her eyes seconds before her face morphs into the face of a demon, revealing her true nature* Forget? She was responsible for killing LaCroix, there will be no forgetting!

Delano *reveals the same demonic features; grabs her and throws her hard against the wall* LaCroix is dead and gone! You love a ghost more than me! I ought to put a stake through your heart and let you join him!

Loralee *morphs back; her face now has the features of the beautiful woman she once was; whimpers* Do you not love me anymore?

Delano *morphs back to his human appearance, his eyes fill with love* I will always love you. You are my sire … my love for you is eternal.

Loralee *smiles satisfied* Soon, my love … I will get revenge soon and then we shall go to Paris and have a party to celebrate.

Delano *smiles* Let’s have a party now … *kisses her greedily*

Loralee *returns his kisses with the same greed; in her mind picturing the face of LaCroix*

In Spain:

*Two of the four men drag Colonel and Hanson out of the car. The two hold a .38 under their chins, another car pulls up and two more men approach. A man in a suit approaches*

Man: Fritz, Alvarez, get those guns off of the officers immediately. *the guns are lowered*

Fritz *puts his guns back on the Hansons* Why do we have to listen to you, I thought you quit.

Man: You thought wrong, now lower your weapon! *Fritz lowers his gun in disgust* Let them go. *the two men who had a hold on the Hansons let go* You are dismissed. *the men leave. Hanson keeps Colonel close, hands on her shoulders*

Man: The name is Amelio. *he puts out a hand. Hanson puts a hand across Colonel’s chest, reaching over her shoulder with the other, shaking Amelio’s hand quickly, releasing his grip and putting his hand to her hip* I am sorry for the holdup. I’m sorry if it frightened you two. *Hanson gives Amelio a suspicious look, Amelio coughs after an awkward silence* Well if the two of you will come with me … *he opens the door to the limo. Colonel and Hanson climb in, they sit close, Hanson’s arm around her; she keeps her messenger bag and documents close. Amelio sits opposite them; he coughs again, after another awkward silence, and taps on the dividing window. Orders the driver to take them to Gallego. The driver drops the Hansons off at the Museum of Medieval Art, where they wait to be greeted by Gallego,*

Amelio *drives off, giving orders to the men who held the Hansons up* Good work, but a you were a little early on the spectacle. When they are done with Gallego, that is when you will take them.

*The Hansons enter the museum and walk around, waiting for Gallego*

Before the Revolution:

*Danielle Charron stands gazing out the open window of the small inn, taking in the view of the French countryside, her mind wandering pleasantly; smiles as she feels arms slide around her waist, hears Maurice LaCroix murmur in her ear*

Maurice: Franc for your thoughts, goddess.

Danielle *turns to him, brings her arms up around his neck* I think it best if you find another name for me, cherie. It is not a good time to be a goddess.

Maurice: You’re thinking of queens. It’s not a good time to be a queen. It’s always a good time for a woman to be a goddess. *kisses her*

Danielle: I wish we could stay here forever.

Maurice: And to think, before you met me, you were a confirmed city girl.

Danielle: I was a lot of things before I met you … all mistaken identities.

Maurice: So you would give up your apartment in Paris, your job ... the children would miss you …

Danielle: Just an apartment, and just a job. They would find another teacher. There’s only one child I care about … your child …

Maurice: Our child. *kisses her tenderly* We could become Gypsies … you could teach me the Romany ways of your ancestors.

Danielle: And you … you would give up your flat … and you would no longer meet with the Resistance … you would stop printing those … those papers …

Maurice *shrugs* Just a flat. And the Resistance would find another man to—

Danielle *brings a hand up to his mouth* They would find another man. They could never replace you.

Maurice *smiles* You almost sound like you want me to continue. I thought you hated it.

Danielle: I hate the danger of what you’re doing … I love the courage that makes you do it. *he pulls her close, they kiss passionately, holding each other tight … and he tightens his grip, pulls her away from the window as a stone is hurled through, striking a small table that holds a tray with their breakfast dishes, shattering the china.*

Maurice *feels an instant fury rise up in him as he sees the fright in Danielle’s face; he approaches the window cautiously, tries to keep Danielle back, but she pushes up to it along with him, by his side. They look down to the ground, expecting to see one of Maurice’s enemies—of which there are plenty, due to his radical politics—instead, they see a beautiful woman glaring at them, her face filled with rage. She gesticulates angrily, screams* La mort violente, sanglante et lente à Danielle Charron! *She turns abruptly and storms away from the inn*

Maurice *holds Danielle close, as she trembles, her face pale; mutters, his voice angry* Loralee …

Manouche *tossing and turning, cries out, rolls to one side, falls out of bed onto the floor. Sits up quickly, eyes wide, breathing heavily*

Blake *jumps out of bed, comes to her, drops on floor next to her, takes her in his arms* Honey, are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?

Manouche *nods, trembling, clings to him* B-blimey … *waits for her heart to stop racing, looks at him* Aye, jus’ a nightmare, love … I’m sound. *smiles slightly* But I could use a lil’ dram to calm me nerves … would ye be so kind as t’ fetch me a sip o’ brandy, please?

Blake *helps her up, gets her back in bed, pulls covers up around her; takes her face in his hands, kisses her* Be right back. *leaves bedroom to get brandy*

Manouche *watches him go, then opens drawer in bedside table, takes out pad and pen. Writes the name “Maurice LaCroix,” so she’ll remember to ask Malachi if he knows of any LaCroix in his family tree*