Kat:  Why, it would be my pleasure to take you around town, dear sister!  *Thinking me real pleasure be more like fricasseed Cindy*  Let me take care of the check for our tea, and we’ll stroll into the city centre.  It’s quaint, but it does have a certain chahhm.”  *Ought te dose 'er and toss 'er on the first passin' freighter.  Rises, smiles, turns, slips quickly around fern.  Grabs Manouche firmly by the hair.  In a low voice*  What??  On me own?  Be ye daft?  It be all I can do not to strangle 'er with me bare 'ands.  Savvy????

Manouche *wincing at her grip, trying to keep her voice low*  Oww!  Blimey, luv, ye’ll ‘ave t’ be alone with ‘er sooner or later.  What’s she gonna think if she sees ye consortin’ with me?  Look at me, mate … a lowlife gypsy pirate.  All this work we jus’ done’ll be fer naught.  Believe me, I’d love t’ help ye strangle ‘er meself, she’s a horror.  Th’ poor Inspector, ‘avin’ a sister like that!  Now, what’re ye goin’ t’ do?  Hurry, she’s waitin’, don’t let ‘er come back ‘ere an’ see us …

Lady Cynthia *straightens her hat while waiting for Kat to appear.  What a lousy service at this pitiable 'restaurant' there is.  She takes a small mirror from her pink purse and checks her makeup and hair, then looks around her, thinks about Kat, who seems to her arrogant.  She's clearly feasting on Dear Grandmother's inheritance.  And she's deliberately keeping her from seeing Frederick.  She sighs, begins to be impatient*

Kat *Returns reluctantly*  Well, dahling, shall we go, dear sister?  *Smiles, gritting teeth*  I know of a delightfully quaint little shop that you simply must see.  *She strolls with Cynthia towards the shops of Deppville.*

*Off stage whisper* Ye don't suppose she means Vicky's. *Snickers*

Manouche *slowly comes out from behind the hedge, watches them go, heaves a sigh of relief*  Bloody ‘ell, that were close.  *rubs her head where Kat grabbed her hair.  Picks up glass, finishes rum, steps onto patio.  Looks through window to Chez Roux interior, sees the clock on the wall.  She still has a little time before she’s expected at the opium den for the Russian roulette game.  She considers for a moment; she had hoped to get there early, have time to indulge in the drug before the game began.  She's developing a taste for it … it's such a comfort, that sweet release from the dullness inside, the miserable emptiness so deep that it eludes her, she’s unable to tap into it.  Now that Kat’s gone and she stands alone on the patio, except for a few patrons at nearby tables who take little notice of her, she feels the blackness wash over her again.  He’s been gone at least two full days now; but she feels that she’s never known anything before this pain, this fog that surrounds her, black and endless … the opium at least gives it a little color.  She speaks aloud, in a soft whisper, one of Blake’s verses*  Some are born t’ sweet delight … some are born t’ endless night.  *She glances at the clock one more time, then turns her gaze toward the direction Kat and Cynthia went.  She sighs; although she has no idea how she can possibly be of assist to her friend, she decides to follow them a little longer, for the short time she has to spare before she needs to go to her curious new job*

Lady Cynthia:  And where are you from, dear sister?  I presume that you can't be from a place like this.  *looks at the shop windows*  Look at that, it went out of fashion months ago.  *shakes her head*  How lovely it is here, like time had stopped.  I just love this little town.  Oh look, there is a jewel shop!  *Looks at the shop window, notes the ring Corso changed for the necklace and earrings*  There's one that looks stylish among these little trinkets.  *turns to Kat, wanting to find out how much Abberline spent on the ring*  Oh, I almost forgot – show me your ring, dear sister.

Kat *Slowly simmering*  I'm from the states, dear.  Georgia to be precise, Atlanta of course.  My darling Grand pa pa was govenor at the time.  A most delightful city. *Glances in the shop window*  But of course.  *Extends hand with Abby’s ring*  Your dear brother has exquisite taste, does he not?  *Smiles*

Lady Cynthia *looks at the ring for long, at least he hasn't given her any of dear Grandmother's rings, she starts to count the diamonds and rubies, trying to evaluate the price of the ring, tries to hide her anger  behind a sweet smile*  A very beautiful ring, sister.  *so he's spending our money on her.  She turns her back on the shop window*  As for myself, I prefer the classic style better.  Where do you buy your clothes from?  Gucci or Prada?

Kat *Vexed*  Prada of course directly from Paris.  But now my dear sister there's something you simply must see.  *Grins*  You really have no idea the regard your brother has come to hold you.  But I'll show you.  *Smiles sweetly*  No questions, it's a surprise.  Come with me.*  Leads her to the dock, stops and looks out at the entirely empty ocean.*  Look dear sister, tell me what do you see besides the sea and sky?

Manouche *following carefully, winces, thinks to herself*  ITALY, mate, Prada directly from Italy's a bit more impressive.  *sees her take Cynthia to the docks*  Oh, blimey, what’s she up to?

Lady Cynthia *Looks at the sea and at Kat trying to find out what she has on her mind*  What do you mean?  There's just plain water, nothing more.  I don't understand you, sister.  *looks at her questioningly*

Kat:  Why dear sister, that's exactly what your brother thinks of you.  *Smiles gleefully as she shoves her off the dock.  Yells*  Bloody nothin'!!!  By the way, Bon voyage and don't go botherin' te write!!!!

Manouche:  KAT!  *starts to run to her; she feels a heavy hand grasp her shoulder with an iron grip*

Ivan *his voice as rough as the hand that holds her fast*  You’re late, gypsy.  Time to go to work.  *he turns her away from the docks, toward From Hell Court.*

Manouche *looks over her shoulder, sees Kat practically doing a Snoopy dance on the dock, hears Cynthia shrieking and splashing in the water.  She finds herself almost smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes; it’s as close to a smile as she’s come since her beloved William Blake disappeared.  Thinks to herself*  Cheers, mate, she deserved it.  Th’ Inspector may find there’s more advantage in bein’ married to a pirate than he thought there would be.  *Ivan scowls at her as she reaches a hand around and blows a kiss toward Kat; she then turns and walks with him to the tavern*

At Bournemouth House:

Raven *after Kat has left to go into town; smiles shyly at Abberline*  Father … Sergeant Godley has been teaching me how to play football.  Maybe you an’ I could play sometime.  Are you feeling better now?

Abberline:  Me?  Football, oh no, I've never played it.  *lights a smoke, thinks for a while*  Why not.  Sometime.  I am fine, Raven, especially when I got out of that horrible hospital.  So, are you really wanting to move in with us?  What if it isn't going to work between your mother and me – it wouldn't be very pleasant for you.

Raven *shrugs*  I’d like to try.  I think we should all be together.  If it doesn’t work out … then I should be with either you or Mother.  *pauses*  I love the factory, an’ Alifi’s very kind … but I wanted to be with you and Mother.

Abberline:  I want to try too.  *crushes his cigarette*  You need a room.  You can take the one that Godley cleaned up or pick yourself another room upstairs.  This house has been too big for me alone, so I ended up closing some of the rooms.  And … *smiles to himself* … we need a room for your little sister.  Let's have a look at them.  *goes upstairs, Raven follows him*  The first rooms on the landing are the master bedroom and the smaller bedroom, followed by the study and some locked doors, Abberline opens up the doors, most of the rooms are completely empty, in some of them are piles of furniture or boxes covered with white cloth*  I don't know anything about decorating, but you must have some kind of idea what you want.

Raven:  I’d love to have it like my room at Mother’s house on Sparrow Lane.  *looks at him anxiously*  Would it be okay with you if it’s decorated with pirate stuff?  You won’t mind?  I’ll have to get my stuff from … from Manouche’s house … *voice trails off, his eyes sad*

Abberline *is about to ask about the room on Sparrow Lane, but at the last words turns around and looks at Raven*  What is it?  Has something happened to Manouche, tell me, Raven!

Raven *eyes fill with tears*  M-Mr. Blake ... he ... he may be ... he was attacked by a vampire ... th-they kidnapped him, an' he killed one of 'em ... b-but the other one got him.  Manouche saw it all ... no one's seen him since, so ... we don't know if he's still alive ... *lowers his head, weeping*

Abberline:  No.  Where is Manouche now?  Can you tune in on her now?  I wish she weren't alone ...  Maybe we could help her in some way ....

Raven *tears streaming down his face*  F-Father, I’m so worried about her.  She’s … she’s not lettin’ me in … but … I know she’s been spendin’ time in … that opium den.  Sh-she can’t … she can’t feel anything, she … she can’t cry … she feels dead inside … I want t' help her, Father, she helped save your life when you had your heart attack ...  *he smiles suddenly, through tears*  Sh-she an' Mother made up.  They’re friends again.  M-Manouche is … helping her with somethin’, but … I don’t know what it is.  *looks at Abberline*  Sh-she’s been stayin’ away from you, an' from Mother … even from me, because … she wants us t’ be a family.  She’s been afraid she’ll spoil that.  But … I think Mother will let her help with my sister now.  *sniffs loudly*  Father, I don't know what to do ..

Abberline:  I must find her, I don't want her to go into those dens and get hooked on opium, I know too well how it is when you can't even grieve.  I know she's been avoiding me, she's afraid that it is I who will spoil everything … but now that she and Kat are over it, do you think there would be some way to help her?  I don't know.  Or maybe I could try to find something on the vampires, it may well be that Blake is alive.  There must be something I can do.

Raven:  Malachi has been staying with Manouche as much as he can … he’s a good friend to her.  An’ he’s got some of the d-dreamer … but … I don’t think he knows s-she’s takin’ opium.  Did you … learn anything about vampires in Fiji?  I think Gili an’ Alifi are tryin’ to think of somethin’.  If you have anythin’ in your files about that … maybe that would help them.  I ... I can't tell where she is now ... I think she's with Mother ... but she'll be at From Hell Court tonight.  *eyes large, solemn, fill with tears again* 

Abberline:  No, I don't know anything about vampires.  I didn't even know they existed.  *sits down in a small sofa protected by a white cloth in the room that looks like it's been used only for storage, motions for Raven to come beside him*  Then she has no use for me.  *stares at the floor, lights a new cigarette*

Raven *stands close to him*  Father, how can you say that, how can you even think it?  You're her friend, she needs her friends now.  She ... wants to be alone, but ... she needs to know her friends care, too.  An' you, Father, you know more about ... how she's feelin' than anyone right now ... since your wife was ... she died ... an' you couldn't feel anything.  You could help her, you could talk to her.  She helped you by talkin', didn't she?  Isn't it the same?

Abberline:  I couldn't feel anything for years, and when it started to hurt I killed all the feelings with drugs ...  Yes, I know how it is, but ...  She helped me with talking, but it isn't the same.  I can't talk as she does. *looks up at Raven*  But I do want to help her.  Maybe I could find her in a den ... I could try.  But even if I wanted it, I can't do it for your mother.  I doubt she would understand it.

Raven *gazes at him for a moment, then lowers his eyes*  I … I understand, Father.  Manouche understands, too.  An’ now that she an’ Mother are friends again, she wouldn’t want anythin’ to mess that up.  Mother has to come first … *looks back up at him* … But don’t ever think that Manouche has no use for you.  *pauses*  She’s got other friends who’ll help her.  An’ I’ll keep tryin’ to see her, she can’t shut me out forever.  She’ll understand why you can’t.  *he swallows, having tried his best to think and talk very grown-up.  But bottom line is that he’s still very worried and sad; his eyes fill with tears again, and he hugs Abberline.  Much as he hates to admit it, and for all that he’s trying to be very adult about these adult issues, right now he feels lonely and afraid for his friend, and simply needs a hug from his father*

Abberline *hugs him, a little carefully, as he still is with Raven*  Don't be sad.  There is something I must be able to do.  *looks at Raven*  First, I don't want you to think that I am pushing you away, but I would like you to go to Sergeant Godley if you don't want to wait here alone till Mother comes.  I can't just sit and wait here.  I can search for her at From Hell Court, but I don't want to take you with me to that place.  If you are against it, I won't go anywhere.  And I want you to know that you don't have to be worried.  Mother comes first.

Raven *sniffs, looks at him*  I’m not worried, I know you love Mother.  I .. I know you’re not pushing me away.  I don’t mind waiting here alone for a little while, Mother’ll be back soon.  *looks hopeful*  Oh Father, will you really go look for her?  I'm so scared.  She doesn't care what happens to her ...  Th-thank you, Father.  I … hope you can help her.  *throws his arms around Abberline gratefully*

At the Wonkas’ factory:

*Willy's car pulls into the factory, after some fussing with the gates.  He gets out a bit annoyed, walks inside and heads up to the master suite.  Walks in, about to take his hat off*  I know I know I'm late ... *looks up when he doesn't hear Madame yelling, sees her standing near a table with Alifi, right behind the couch.  Candles are lit around a picture he can't see.  But he does see something.  Madame looks at him with hurt in her eyes, he is about to walk over*  Have I missed something …

Madame *walks over, stops him*  Willy ... we have some ... news …

Willy *confused, looks at her, then to Alifi, tries to read into Madame's thoughts, but for some reason, they're blocked*  What?

Madame *covers her mouth, placing a hand on his shoulder, Alifi steps foward*

Alifi:  Willy, dear, it’s about … William Blake … did he or Manouche tell you about the vampire Loralee?  There’s been a … case of mistaken identity, of sorts … In seeking revenge on Manouche for something she thought she did, Loralee and a companion … *looks down, takes deep breath*  William Blake killed Loralee.  Loralee’s companion … may have killed Mr. Blake.

Willy *stares at Alifi, then cocks his head, tears begin to form in his eyes, he looks at Madame*  Tell me she's lying .... Kim … please.

Madame *shakes head slowly, her hand still over her mouth*  I'm so sorry, dearest.  *a tear goes down her face, he says nothing all he does is stare at the floor, she gets worried*  Willy ... love …

Willy *looks back up at her, shakes head*  My brother's dead ... I ... I … have to make sure Manouche is okay ... she's gonna need me.  *goes to walk, Madame holds him back, Alifi steps forward and they both stop him, tears begin to roll down his face, he mumbles*  Let go .... my sister needs my help.

Madame  *grabs his shoulder*  Willy, love stop.

Willy *yells*  No!   No!  She needs me!!!  *they still hold him back, he gets dizzy and falls down, Madame holds onto him tight*   Manouche ... Blake … Blake … *he begins yelling and crying.  He punches the floor*  NO!!!!  NO!!!!

Madame *she realizes he's getting powerful*  Alifi … he's losing himself … this is getting dangerous.

Alifi *crouches down, calls forth her own Rom powers; places her soothing hands to Willy’s face*  Willy, dear … please, you MUST calm down, for Madame’s sake, for your own sake … for the children … for Manouche.  There’s still a chance he’s alive.  Gili tells me it’s a slim chance, but we must hold onto any hope we can find.  Willy, listen to me … *gently but firmly coaxes him to look into her eyes*  My dear, you’re right, Manouche does need you.  She needs all of us.  At this very moment, she needs to be alone.  I know that’s probably hard for you to understand, but trust me, I’ve known her many, many years.  She’ll be back with us very soon, though, and that’s when she’ll need you desperately.  So we all have to be ready for her when she comes back.  We have to be strong, and while we don’t want to lie to her … we do want her to know that we believe in holding onto any hope if it's there, no matter how slim.  Savvy?

Willy *shakes head, Madame holds his arms back, he still tries to get free*  Yes, yes I know, but I just need to know if she alright.  I need to make sure she's not going to do anything stupid  *his breathing increases, he begins to lose focus*  No no... no... *two oompas hear all the pounding and yelling from outside, they run in and see Madame and Alifi trying to hold Willy down, they look at each other*

Madame *over Willy's voice* Call for backup!!! We've lost him!!!  *the oompas grab their walkie talkies and page others to come immediately, a group runs in and begin to hold him down*

Oompa 1 *checks his pulse*  He's hyperventilating, Mistress. *sends another oompa to get a cold washcloth*  We need to get his heart rate steady or he's going to pass out

Madame *grabs Willy's face, their eyes connect, she wipes the sweat from his forehead with her glove*  Willy....Willy listen....

Willy *he watches her, but it doesn't connect with him that Madame's talking to him, he sees someone else*  Wha..What? *he tries to touch her, but he's being held down*  M-mom...mom. ..*cries* Mom..Will died...he's dead..my brother....

Madame *looks at him, confused, but looks at Alifi whose nodding to keep going, she nods* I know, I know.  Listen Willy, close your eyes, listen to me breath.  I want us to be the same.  *she arranges it so he's leaning on her, everyone still making sure he stays still, her hand covers his heart, they breath simultaneously*  Breath, keep going.  In and out.

Willy *his eyes begin to get heavy, they stop leaning on his arms and legs*  M-mom...Blake. ..Blake.. .I see you...Blake

Madame *shushes him, keeps her hand over his heart*  He's here, sweety, right here.  Breath..

Willy *closes eyes slowly, his words slur until they stop, everyone lets go, his breathing goes back to normal slowly*

Madame *sighs*  He's passed out...

Alifi *nods*  The poor dear … we should get him somewhere so he can rest more comfortably.  *looks at Madame*  Manouche told me what good friends you are to her, how you truly are family to her.  I see now she wasn’t exaggerating.  I’m … glad she has you both, Madame.  I only hope that we can help her, and … and that somehow we’ll find William Blake …

Madame *nods, with a great heave they all lift him off of her, drag him into the master bedroom and place him on the bed*  Alifi....Manouche and Blake are the closest things to our hearts besides ourselves and our children.  Willy loves them both so much.  It's unbearable.  *manages to take off his coat, his shoes, and his gloves, sits next to him on the bed, an oompa brings her a washcloth, she wipes his face with it*  I better stick around here for when he wakes up.  He's going to be freaking out more, but he'll be in control. *looks up as an oompa with a medical uniform walks in, carrying a significantly large bag, he places it at her feet, opens it, takes out a bunch of supplies, takes out a small flashlight, offers his hand to her, she takes it and moves out of the way for him, he crawls next to him, opens his eyes and checks his pupils*

Doctor *examines closely*  Master Wonka will be out for a while from what I'm just looking at.  *turns, faces an oompa*  I want two oompas by the door at all times for when he wakes up *the oompa nods, turns and leaves, the doctor turns back*  And you, Mistress...

Madame *nods*  I plan to be ...

Alifi *to Madame*  My dear, I’ll go check on the babies, so you can stay here and keep an eye on Willy.  *reaches into a pocket, pulls out vial*  I have something here that may help him rest easier.  It’s very mild, but it’s excellent for easing an erratic heartbeat.  *smiles*  I admit, it’s one of Malachi’s formulas.  He and Manouche could open a pharmacy, with all the things they come up with.  *hands bottle to Madame*  If he wakes up, just have him drink this.  It’s not unpleasant, and it’ll help him rest.  *she kisses Madame on the cheek*  Call me if you need anything, dear.  *turns, leaves room, heads for the nursery*

Madame *takes vial, puts it on the end table, watches everyone leave, two oompas stand outside, keeping the door guarded, she sighs, turns suddenly as she hears Willy mumble*

Willy *turns head, eyes flutter slightly*  B-Blake ... Manouche ... s-stay ... I'll protect you .... *sighs heavily, eyes shut again*

Madame *sits next to him, smoothing his hair back*  I know, love, I know.  *takes off her hat, coat, glasses and gloves, rubs eyes*  We broke a promise .... *lays her head down on his chest, listening to his heart beat, which is still fast, closes her eyes and falls asleep*

At the docks:

Lady Cynthia *being rescued by a pirate who pulls her in a rowboat and sets her on the shore, pockets her purse in the process while grinning at her most indecently all the time.  Her first thought is that her beautiful Gucci suit is ruined.  Then she sits down on a bench feeling miserable for a while, but after a while she's her cool and resolute self again*  I knew you were a shark, dear sister.  A tramp in expensive clothes.  That's what comes from socializing with the low scum of the society, dear Frederick.  This ain't over yet.  *She rises up, tries to put the dress in some order after letting it dry in the sun, and stops a very attractive looking man with high cheekbones and admirable eyes with long lashes*  Darling, can you tell me where Chief Inspector Frederick Abberline lives? 

*A somewhat dishevelled and still damp but otherwise composed Lady Cynthia walks through the town in search of Bournemouth House, and because she is not used to walking, she soon gets lost, finds herself on a paved square. In front of her she sees a building with the letters 'Security' on the door. She enters it and walks the corridor, noting name plates, and finally seeing a familiar one: Inspector Abberline, she looks in but sees nothing interesting there, just an empty ordinary office room, but farther on the corridor she finds an interesting bif gold plate* Fine, A Commander* She knocks, and a somewhat familiarly looking young man in a most distractingly torn t-shirt opens the door* I want to see Commander Portsmith.

Charlie the Secretary:  Hey, there's someone to see you.

Portsmith:  How many times have I said that that is not the way to announce guests!  *to Lady Cynthia*  What can I do for you?

Lady Cynthia:  I want to report a theft and a murder attempt.

Portsmith:  Please do tell.

Lady Cynthia:  I was pushed to the water in the port and my purse was stolen by the same person why tried to kill me.

Portsmith:  Did you see him?  Can you describe him?  We do have lots of pirates and other scum in this town.

Lady Cynthia *grins like a wolf*  I can do better than that.  I can name her.  She's called Kat Abberline.

Portsmith *looks at her with sudden interest*  Ah, as I said we have trouble with the pirates.  She is one of the worst and I have been after her for a long time.  *grins*  Called herself Kat Abberline, did she.  That's not her name.  She's Kat Cassidy, but she has been trying to pose as the wife of Inspector Abberline.

Lady Cynthia:  Indeed.  She looked like a lady to me, but I could sense at once that she wasn't.  I could never imagine my dear brother Frederick marrying a pirate.

Portsmith:  You brother?  Really?  You are a sister of Fred's?  Why, I am very pleased to meet you.  We have something to discuss.  *yells to Charlie*  Get us some tea and scones and don't forget the lemon slices this time! 

At From Hell Court:

Manouche *taking a break between games, stretched out on the broken-down couch, back among the dragon-chasers.  She convinces herself she’s floating pleasantly, adrift on the effects of the opium, combined with plenty of drinks bought for her by yet another amazed audience who watched her predict all the live rounds in the pistol’s chamber.  Truth be told, the floating is not altogether pleasant, and she bloody well knows it; there’s nothing secure about this ride.  It feels more like someone promising that you won’t be disturbed, all the while getting a firm hold on the rug underneath you – preparing to yank it out from under you when you’re at your loftiest peak, just for a laugh.  The harder your fall, the louder the laugh will be.  She isn’t sure how she knows this, she just does.  She just … knows things, sometimes … *

*She opens her eyes, looks around at the others … depraved, in various states of consciousness.  She wonders what their stories are … but she doesn’t care enough to ask, any more than they care about hers.  They all know they’re there to push something aside.  It was all her fault, she’ll never forgive herself.  At least there are things she can do toward some redemption … and she plans to do all she can … she shakes her head irritably, frowning at these words in her head.  So bloody LAME.  She’s filled with self-loathing, and even the knowledge of that gets on her nerves.  She reaches a hand down to the floor, feels for the glass she’d set there earlier, lifts it to her lips; thank god it still holds a little absinthe.  One of Blake’s lines of poetry comes into her head; she’s not sure whether she’s saying it out loud or not:*  “For I dance, an’ drink, an’ sing … till some blind hand shall brush me wing.”  *She repeats it until the words meld together and don’t sound like anything … she giggles at this, but the minute she laughs, the string is broken, and the words come to her again, as clear as they were before … and her heavy eyelids slide down.  She slowly opens them again after a minute, dark eyes still veiled by long, sooty lashes … she gradually focuses on the face peering into hers; blinks, tries to recall who he is*

Ivan *grabs her by the collar, pulls her head up slightly, brings her face closer to his.  The cigar clamped in his teeth seems to be singular in its purpose of sending acrid smoke straight into her nostrils*  We’re startin’ up again in about twenty minutes, wastrel.  You better not be so screwed up on this stuff that you can’t perform.  *shakes her, drops her back down, looking at her with contempt.  He stands up, turns, goes back to the back room*

Manouche *coughs, scowls after Ivan, mumbles after him*  What d’ ye know ‘bout poetry, y’ bastard?  *She waves a hand in the air*  “For I dance, an’ drink, an’ sing … till some blind hand shall brush me wing.”  *Makes a mental note of all the errands she must take care of soon.  Top of the list is Kat, she must see her first thing tomorrow.  Kat will be able to help.*

Abberline *on his search after Manouche at From Hell Court, descends the stairs yet one den, wanders a while among the lost souls, the familiar broken and stained couches, the thick smell of opium in the air, and for some moments he feels that he's going back home, to the easy, numb state of not having to feel, not having to think, just take a smoke and let everything float by in a pleasant haze – and at the moment he sees Manouche. He stops in front of the couch where she is laying and looks at her without a word*

Manouche *arm over her eyes, senses someone standing over her; mumbles in a hoarse voice*  S-sod off, Ivan, gimme half a mo’, all right?  *she moves her arm, slowly opens her eyes, sees Abberline.  Takes a minute to register, to realize who he is, then her eyes widen, she whispers*  B-blimey …  *she tries to sit up a little, falls back; swallows*  Fergive me … Inspector … I … I’m goin’ through a bad patch, as it were.  I – I’m glad t’ see ye, mate … though I deeply regret th’ circs … *closes her eyes, shakes her head to try to clear it*  R-right … I got t’ snap out of it, I ‘ave a job t’ do ‘ere soon …  *with an effort, manages to pull herself up somewhat to a sitting position.  She looks at him, not sure whether it’s the drug, or that she can read his thoughts, but she’s pretty certain he knows*  Y-ye … ye know me pain, then? …  *lowers her eyes*

Abberline *sits down beside her*  I heard.  *He wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulls her towards him until her head is resting on his chest, strokes her hair with his hand; unlike the last time he touched her, there are no sparks flying, just a warm feeling, and he hopes that she can sense it too*  I know what you are going through and I know why that stuff is not helping you a bit.

Manouche:  I … I reckon ye do understand, at that.  I don’t s’pose I ‘ave another friend who understands it quite so much as yerself.  *she stares straight ahead, lies very still in his arms, grateful for his comfort, tries to explain*  I … I can’t feel anythin’, Fred.  I’m … I … can’t even seem t’ feel enough t’ be scared o’ that very fact, if that makes any sense at all t’ ye.  I don’t think … I don’t think there’s anythin’ else that can be done t’ me, short o' death.  S'all been done.  I feel like nothin’ll ever hurt me again … an’ nothin’ll ever feel good again … *swallows*  To … t’ say I … miss him … s’like an insult, savvy?  An outrage.  I saw it all with me own eyes ... th’ fangs … I saw th’ blood … an’ now he’s gone.  *is quiet for awhile, sighs deeply; then she speaks again, her voice firm*  Nothin’s gonna go wrong fer ye an’ Kat, savvy?  Ye ‘ave nothin’ t’ worry about.  She’ll ‘ave that beautiful baby that yer wantin’, an’ ye’ll go on, th’ pair o’ ye, an’ lil’ mate as well … I know what I’m doin’ … *closes her eyes*  By th’ powers, luv, I’m so ‘appy fer ye … an’ that Kat can give ye all that.  Yer goin’ to ‘ave a beautiful life from ‘ere on in, th’ rest’ll be jus’ like a bad dream … a bad dream … *brings an arm around his waist, hugs him*  As dead as I feel, I take some comfort from ye.  I thank ye fer comin' t' help me ... from th' bottom o' me heart ... *she pulls away from him slightly, looks toward back room*  I ... reckon I should get in there ... I 'ave a job t' do ...

Abberline *not letting her go*  I don't think that you know what you're doing.  You don't want to go down the same road I went, you saw the results, didn't you?  You don't want to end up like me, a miserable addict.  *hugs her tight, feels the scent of her hair, her body against his, suppresses a sudden urge to kiss her*  But I don't have that same way of words that you do.  I just want you to know that if there is anything I can do for you, just say it.  No one knows how things will turn out in the future.  You don't know that he's gone for good, I can't know if Kat stays for good. 

Manouche *rests in his hug, grateful for the comfort it brings, but still feeling so empty inside*  Yer right, mate, that’s very wise.  I … n-no worries, I won’t let this stuff get th’ better o’ me, savvy?  But … ye know how it is, I don’t ‘ave t’ tell ye.  No one else would understand, they’d say, blimey, mate, if yer feelin’ dead inside, what do ye need th’ stuff fer?  It’s t’ ease th’ pain … who else but ye would understand how it is, that feelin’ dead inside, an’ still needin’ escape?  It don’t make sense, even as I say it ‘ere an’ now.  *sniffs, looks up at him, tries but still can’t quite muster a smile*  I – I’ll be sound, luv.  Truly.  An’ I’m beholden t’ ye, I’m so grateful.  *nods toward back room*  I … ‘ave one more … session in there, an’ then I’m fer home, I swear to ye.  I won’t touch th’ stuff again tonight, savvy?  Jus’ finish up in there, an’ straight home, to bed.  I gave me word, y’see, an’ th’ money’s good.  Besides, I don’t want t’ cross that Ivan, he’s a big bloke, an’ he has a temper.  Ye’d best make yerself scarce, luv … *looks at him fondly, nods*  Ye don’t belong ‘ere anymore.  An’ I’m right proud o’ ye.  *she reluctantly pulls gently from his embrace, stands up*  Tell Kat I’d like t’ see ‘er tomorrow, at Sparrow Lane.  I ‘ave somethin’ I’d like t’ discuss with ‘er.  God bless ye, Fred Abberline.  *touches his face gently, then slowly makes her way through the crowd, to the back room.*

Abberline *looks after her wistfully, but relieved, believing her words. He knows that she's stronger than himself and that she probably goes home instead of staying here.  After she's gone, he looks around him at the den, wondering how he ever could spend so much time in a place like this, then he turns abruptly and returns home to Bournemouth House.  For the first time he feels he can call it a home, and it doesn't feel like the cold empty house it was before to him; he steps in, hoping Kat is already home*

Manouche *being jostled by the crowd as she approaches the small room, turns, sees Abberline leaving the den.  Nods, satisfied, thinks to herself dreamer-like, hopes he can hear her*  Au revoir, Fred Abberline … la meilleure vie peut vous offrir, le rêveur doux.  Live, mate.  *She feels Ivan’s hand on her shoulder, turns, enters the crowded, stuffy room*

At Bournemouth House:

Kat *Turns at the sound of his entry, calls out.*  Abby??  Is that you luv?

Raven *from his room upstairs, hears the door, then hears his mother call out.  Listens carefully, waiting to hear what his father has to say*

Abberline:  Yes, it's me.  *hugs her tight*  I am glad you are back.  *looks at her*  What's that you are wearing?  You look like a lady to me.  What have you been doing?

Kat:  Ne'er mind that, luv.  Just listen.  Abby iffen ye really care anythn' for me.  Sail away with me.  We can take Raven and sail far away fro' 'ere.  Somethin' bad is gonna 'appen.  It'll be 'orrible, luv.  I feel it and it' gonna be soon.  We must go at once!

Abberline *surprised, releases her*  Sail away?  And leave all this?  But ... the baby, what about the baby?  You must tell me what happened, I need to know.  And, I have to tell you that I saw Manouche today, and she was in a miserable way, in an opium den, and she asked for your help.  She wanted to see you at Sparrow Lane tomorrow.  You can't leave her just like that. 

Kat:  Abby, ye be not listenin' – I've 'ad these feelin' a 'fore and payin' attention te 'em 'as kept me breathin' more than once.  I can't go ignorin' 'em now.  I'd be of lil use te Manouche or anyone dead and there would be no child.  Manouche be free te come, as well.  *Takes his arm*  Abby please, sail away with me.

Raven *listening from upstairs, tears in his eyes*  Oh, Mother ... I love you ...

Abberline:  I am listening to you.  But we can't sail away just like that, immediately.  I – I have to think about it.  And whatever it is, I will protect you.  I won't let anyone touch you.  Give me some time.  Let me take care of you.

At From Hell Court:

Ivan *stands in the room that branches off from the opium den, looking over the crowd.  He has talked Manouche into a third session of the game before calling it a night.  He was surprised at the crowd that had already gathered earlier in the day, by mid-afternoon.  Word always travels fast in From Hell Court, and the room had started to fill up early with people who had heard about the Gypsy seer – all waiting eagerly when Ivan and Manouche entered after Manouche had watched Kat shove Cynthia into the water.  Ivan had to admit, the Gypsy had a sense of show-biz.  She welcomed everyone, thanked them for coming to the matinee, as she called it; and then proceeded to amaze them, the money passing hands freely.  She made a terrible pun about “calling the shots” … but it wasn’t so terrible, now that the game had ceased to be deadly.*

*Now it was the late night crowd.  The place was packed, the drinks pouring, and Manouche has been at it nearly nonstop from late afternoon through the night, except for a break spent in the opium den.  Ivan looks on, amazed.  What a frenzy.  He smirks; it almost restores his faith in human nature, to see these derelicts thirsting more for fortune-telling than for blood.  Who would’ve thought?  He looks up, grins as one of his workers hands him another stack of bills.  He fans them at his ear, nods appreciatively.  He looks out at the table in the middle of the room, then takes a chair against the wall near where he’s standing, having been on his feet for hours; his view now obscured by dozens of backs.  He could almost swear the Gypsy had bewitched them all, if he believed in that sort of thing.  He wonders why she’s so interested in this gig.  Granted, she’s making money hand over fist; but she then turns around and spends so much of it nearly as fast as she makes it, self-medicating with reckless abandon – almost as if she’s striving to catch up with some of the hardcore addicts amongst the den’s patronage.  He’s seen a lot in his time, but he can’t remember the last time he saw anyone quite so hell-bent on cleaning out a supply of opiates.  No doubt about it, the girl’s a nutter.  It’s also interesting to him that the effects are accelerated in her, yet she maintains.  He wonders, maybe she really does have some magic about her.  A loud noise breaks his reverie; he rolls his eyes, thinks to himself*  Great, someone’s challenging her again.  *He stands up to see what’s going on.*

Manouche *standing on the table, looking down, glaring at someone in the crowd*  Ye bastard, are ye callin’ me a charlatan?  I’ll prove to ye it ain’t no trick.  Any one o’ ye, prepare yer gun with one round, an’ pass it to me.  Go on, hand me a dozen of ‘em, ye bloody cynics.  *a number of guns are passed her way; she gathers them up in her arms, hops off the table onto the floor, sits on one of the chairs.*  Right, ‘ere we go.  *she picks up a gun, spins its cylinder, points the barrel at her head, quickly pulls the trigger as the crowd holds its collective breath*  Not it.  *lowers it, raises it again, places it to her head, pulls the trigger*  Again, not it.  *lowers the gun, brings it up to her head, then quickly points it away, pulls trigger; the gun fires*  Bingo.  *She picks up another gun, repeats the process, then again with the next one, and the next.  Ivan stares, along with the rest of the crowd – not only because she’s right every time, but also because she’s doing it so quickly, seemingly without a thought or care, as if she’s sitting at a dressing table trying on hats.  When she’s finally finished, she looks up expectantly, eyebrows raised; the crowd cheers, and she stands up*  Right, so that’s settled, let’s get back t’ th’ game.  An’ th’ next round o’ drinks is on me, ye chuffin’ suckers.  *everyone laughs, and two more players take their places at the table.

Ivan *watches Manouche’s face throughout her demonstration, sees no emotion despite her jocular tone; no hint of a smile, no particular pride in having pulled off the trick with such aplomb.  Just the same remote expression she wears constantly, whether running the game or lying sprawled out in the next room, chasing dragons and thoughts he’s assuming are best left unsaid.  He can’t complain; she’s bringing in good money, she’s a tireless worker, she takes exactly what they agreed upon without trying to talk him out of more.  She’s generous, buys more than her share of rounds of drinks.  But he’s intensely curious about her.  He sometimes finds himself almost attracted to her, and quickly shakes off the feeling, annoyed.  That’s all he would bloody need, for his mates to think he fancies Gypsy trash; and this one a pirate, at that.  Still, it would be interesting to get her alone one night, knock that apathetic look off her face … make those dark eyes smoulder and flash … see what she’s like when cornered, or up against a wall … *

Penny fer yer thoughts, mate.

Ivan *jumps at the voice, sees Manouche standing next to him.  He grins, a little flustered*  Ah … well, how goes it, Gypsy?

Manouche *shrugs*  It goes.  Crowd’s dyin’ down, I figured I’d be on me way.  If ye’d be so kind as to give me my cut.  *holds out hand*

Ivan *looks at her carefully, wondering if she had read his thoughts; if she did, her face gives no indication.  He nods, pulls out a roll of bills, peels off her share, hands it to her*  Here y’are.  But what’s your hurry?  Why not stay awhile, have a drink?

Manouche *smirks*  Oh aye, fer a change, ay?  Thanks, no, I’m all in.  No worries, per'aps I’ll be back early again tomorrow.  These matinee shows could catch on.  *pockets her money, nods*  Cheers, mate.

Ivan *watches her go, then follows her after a moment.  Walks up the stairs, looks across the bar in time to see her walk out the door.  He hurries to the door, swings it open, sees the direction she’s taken, watches her till she’s out of sight.  So apparently she lives outside From Hell Court … *

On The Brave:

O’Malley: *sits in her corner and quietly drinks, but the alcohol doesn’t seem to have the soothing effects that it usually has; the fearful look in Donnie’s eyes is still very clear to her.  She pours another glass and drinks it quickly.  She isn’t really comfortable being around people out of fear of hurting someone, but the thought of going back to the Brave where there’s no Donnie – not even any bloody crew-members to shout at – doesn’t appeal to her either.  So she stays put, doing her best to come off as hostile and uninviting, hoping everyone will leave her alone.  Unfortunately, her hopes are not heard and a man comes staggering towards her with a self-pleasing smug on his face and a bottle in his hand*

Man *leans on the table to keep his balance*  ‘Ello pretty little thing.

O’Malley *rolls her eyes and sighs; barely looks at him; indifferently*  Not bloody interested, go away.

Man:  Come on now, a pretty lass as yerself shouldn’t sit there all by her onesies.  *reaches his hand towards her*

O’Malley *grabs him by the wrist, looks him sternly in the eyes*  Ye don’t want te be doin’ that mate.  Go find another girl, I ‘ave all the company I want in me bottle o’ rum, savvy?  *lets go of him*

Man *doesn’t get the message, continues to smile at her*  Let’s ‘ave a bit o’ fun, luv.  *grabs her by the arm, trying to pull her with him*

O’Malley *tears herself free of his grip; angrily*  Leave me be!

Man *smile fades*  Stop fussin’.  Ye know ye want te … *reaches for her again*

O’Malley *feels the fury rising in her; she knows what’s coming, but before she has a chance to try to stop it, it’s too late.  The man is pushed back violently; slides across the room knocking over a few chairs on his way.  The whole tavern goes quiet as everyone stops what they’re doing, stops talking and stare from the man to O’Malley and back in astonishment.*

O’Malley *looks horrified at the man, silently telling him to move – give some sign that he’s still alive, that it didn’t happen again.  The man stirs; sits up slowly and puts a hand to his head to check the bumps.  She breathes a sigh of relief.  The feeling of relief quickly fades as she notices everyone’s eyes at her.  Puts on a smile*  Right then, I must be off, ta.  *tips her hat and quickly walks towards the exit*

Bartender *staring at O’Malley as she leaves*  You didn’t touch him … an’ he … across the floor …

O’Malley *ignores the bartender’s almost incoherent sentences and rushes outside and down the street; takes off her hat, runs a hand through her hair and puts the hat back on, trying to get her pounding heartbeat under control again.  She makes it out From Hell’s Court and onto the main-streets; rushes towards the docks wanting to be back at her ship before the tears come.  She sees a bench and feeling exhausted sinks down on it; looks around at the empty, dark streets and fails to hold it in any longer; tears stream down her face*  I almost did it again … I almost killed someone.  What’s ‘appening te me?  *she stays at the bench for a few minutes, then dries her eyes and continues towards the docks.  Back at the Brave, she digs out a bottle of absinthe from a closet.  She doesn’t usually drink it, doesn’t like the effect it has, but tonight the thought of complete numbness appeals to her.  She falls down on the couch and takes a large drink from the bottle; smiles as she feels the numbness setting in; continues to drink till she falls asleep.*