Corso’s apartment:

Corso *returns to the apartment and sees a letter from Britt, it is too long to be any comforting news so he puts it away for a while and starts to read about magical pendants and rings in his book, happens on an interesting drawing of a heart and the word soul, reads on*  ".. mothers were the givers of the souls and therefore it was considered that the maternal bloodline was the more important one before men realized their role in reproduction ..."  *he turns the pages to look at some illustrations*  Ah, the pendant is here ...  *Looks closer at the symbol of heart and soul, trying to remember where he has seen it before, but it escapes his memory.  He turns a few pages and reads on*  "The wiccan ring for ceremonies consisting of alternating women and men reflect the way the ancient powers were passed on in the bloodlines: From female to man, from man to female, Father to daughter, mother to son."

Corso *stops and makes a note of it – that's why O'Malley needs to know of her father ... Then he leafs on and stops at a familiar sight: a necklace he knows so well*  "The earrings and the necklace in the so called unique Frances set were only made to disguise the importance of the ring.  The so called Frances ring was said to be invested with considerable powers from the ancients if it were used by an adept.  For the uninitiated, it was dangerous, and that is probably the reason it was hidden after having caused many deaths.  Some claim that the ring is just a legend and never existed.  It remains hidden to this day."

Corso *is interrupted by a phone call, he assumes it is Britt*  Hello, darling!

Biddy Mulligan:  The same to you my love.  Shall we go on flirting or do you want the information you asked for.  Though it costs you a couple of kisses.  *laughs*

Corso *annoyed*  Cut it out.

Mulligan:  All right.  I got three possible Connellys for you, all parish priests in small villages about the right age, and all of them said to dabble in weird things or black magic.  Which seems to be very common among priests.

Corso:  Give me the details.

Mulligan:  The first odd William Connolly is said to consort with the old folks of Ireland, the Milesians and the Tuatha de Danann.  He's said to hold weird sermons and  his church is full of objects said to be Pagan.  The second one lives by and old stone circle said still to be invested with magical powers, and they say that the villagers gather at Samhain and other old feast days to do ancient rituals by the stones.  Just a rumour, I suppose, but there really are some wiccans there that he tolerates on his grounds.  The third William Connolly is a known demonologist, he has written an odd book on invisible entities or something like that.  Pick your choice.  Any news on the Frances ring?

Corso:  Give me the addresses and numbers of all three.  I doubt that demonologist is who I am looking for, but he might be useful later.  Thanks, Biddy.  The Frances ring?  No, I haven't yet found it but I am working on it.  *he phones the first Father but gets no reply.  Then he tries the second one and waits frustratingly long for an answer, listens to the signals and is about to close the connection when he hears someone lift the receiver at the other end*  Father William Connelly?

F Connolly *puts his book down as he hears the phone ring; picks up the receiver*  Yes, this is he.  Who is this?

Corso:  Sorry about disturbing you, Father.  You don't know me, I am called Dean Corso, and the reason I contacted you is that I am doing some genealogical research, and I have found connections to Ireland as so many of us here on the New Continent.  Actually quite a surprise to me.  I got your phone from a friend who said that you may be able to help me to locate the O'Malleys.  Know the name?

F Connolly *freezes as hears the name ”O’Malley”; he opens a drawer in his desk, takes out a shot glass and a bottle of scotch taking his time answering; after drinking he finally answers.*  You’re related to O’Malley, Mr. Corso?  What is the connection?  If you want my assist, you best tell me the truth.  Who referred you to me?

Corso *thinks for a while what to do, the old man seems to be quite sharp.  And he decidedly knew the name*  I am doing this research for someone else than myself.  I notice you knew that name.  I got this number from a friend of mine whom you don't know, an antique dealer in Dublin called Biddy Mulligan, but the one who mentioned your name first was this customer of mine.  Recognize Grace O'Malley?  Nice girl though she is a pirate.

F Connolly *sighs; takes another drink*  I suspected that is who you meant.  Aye, I know Grace O’Malley … or I did when she was still a child.  She and her mother, Emily O’Malley, moved to London after … *pauses* … an incident.  Emily was a pagan, raised O’Malley on her own.  So little Grace is a pirate now?  Well, I suppose she’s not so little anymore, she must be … *calculates the years in his head* late 20’s now … how time flies.  Sorry, what is it you wish to know?  Grace is the only of the O’Malleys left, Emily passed away not too long ago and the grandparents have been gone for years.

Corso:  Supposing Emily was no Holy Virgin, there's probably a daddy too.  *checks himself too late, remembering that he's talking with a man of the church.*  Pardon me, no blasphemy intended.  I was raised a Catholic but I've since drifted rather far ... The fact is that she's all grown up and a nice looking pirate, but she's got some problems that make her life miserable.  You know, like it isn't fun to have a flower pot bump in your head if you annoy her.  I am sure you know what I mean.

F Connolly:  Ah, so you know … Despite your unfortunate wording, you are of course right.  There was a father … I warned Emily to stay away from him, but she was in love and blind to anything else.  Grace’s father, Quinn Doherty, was a powerful shaman possessing the telekinetic powers that Grace also has; they are triggered by emotions, as I’m sure both you and Grace has guessed by now.  And just like emotions, they are hard to control.  Takes a lot of practise.  *Pauses*  I know what you’re going to ask next … why didn’t her father teach her.  Like I said, he wasn’t around … *stops, unsure of how much Corso already knows and how much he should reveal*

F Connolly: *mumbles, mostly to himself* Heart and Soul…*clears throat* Doherty doesn’t go by that name anymore…or any name…No, he’s not dead, not really. *Hesitates* He is one of the chosen ones, chosen to protect a particularly powerful magical object from Fiji known as the Soul Box. He received his calling shortly after Emily discovered her pregnancy and was transformed before Grace was born. He is the leader of the guardians protecting the box from falling into the wrong hands…it is a most dangerous object…I…*pauses; glances at his tattoo* the reason I know so much of it is, I was chosen too, but unlike Doherty, I ignored my calling and chose to remain a simple human being with a couple of extra talents. I’m afraid Grace is on her own.

Corso *horrified*  Guardian of that accursed soul box!  Aye, Father, you don't know how right you are, O'Malley is on her own.  *calms down a bit*  I happen to know quite a lot about that box. You wouldn't by any means know that it's fallen into the wrong hands – those of the guardians themselves.  They've turned bad.  You don't know how it could be destroyed if I would find the box?   What about O'Malley - would she have some specific powers to rid us of this box that has terrorized us for long.  I'll tell you a secret, Father - the box is here.

F Connolly: *lifts up his glass with shaky hand; his voice trembling almost as violently as his hands* May the Lord have mercy on us all. *Speaks quickly, almost stumbling over the words* The guardians were supposed to be resistant to its power…I wish I could tell you how to destroy it, but the real secrets of the box are only known to the guardians. *quietly, as if following a train of thought* …the box is close to Grace, her powers must be stronger than ever…Mr. Corso, tell Grace not to avoid using her powers, but to train them. Cautiously and alone.

Corso: I don't really know that much about the box and the guardians, there are some others who had the fortune to make closer aquintance with them. *clears throath* Actually it was I who found it on the request of my boss. She never told me where she got the information from but she thought she could put the powers of the soul box for her own schemes. Enough to say that it failed miserably. They must be incredibly strong. Do you think that exorcism could help, after all they are some kind of dead undead demons? You are a Catholic priest so you know about exorcising, don't you? *after a pause* The problem with O'Malley is that she can't avoid using her power, it doesn't seem to be in her control. And she wanted to have a contact with her father because she didn't know how to train. I doubt there are any instruction manuals available. So the problem still persist. I can't walk to her boat.. er ship and just tell her to practice without any guidelines. I'll only get hit by a chair or something worse. Is there a way she could summon the Guardian? *sometime when I am far enough away, that is*

F Connolly: *resentful* Bloody fools! Nothing more dangerous than people insisting on messing with magical things when they don’t know what they’re doing! Exorcism? Against the guardians? It wouldn’t work…they are beings with a mind of their own serving a cause; they haven’t been possessed by other spirits. Aye, they are powerful…were powerful as humans too, which is the part that Grace inherited. *Pauses; lets out a heavy sigh* I suppose…I swore I would never get involved…I could spend a bit of time with her. *Frowns* Summon the Guardian? Why would you want to do that? Even if they aren’t, as you claim, been effected by the power of the box, wasting their time will not go unpunished.

Corso: I think it is your duty to give her some guidance. What do I tell her? That I've found someone who once knew her father? And then I am out of this.

F Connolly: Aye, tell her to keep to herself and I will be in Deppville as soon as possible.  *Hangs up the phone; grins to himself as he dials the number to the airline*  Thank you for the warning, Mulligan. *Orders a flight ticket to California, makes a few more phone calls to friends who’ll be needing to know where he is, and starts packing for the trip.*

At Bournemouth House:

Charlie *finds his way finally to Bournemouth House, rings the bell and waits for someone to open the door*  Come on, hurry up now, Inspector.

Abberline *opens the door*  What are you doing here, Charlie?

Charlie:  Special delivery directly from the Commander, Inspector.

Abberline *looks at the chest with suspicion*  I am not taking that.

Charlie:  Your problem.  I ain't carrying it back.  How about a tip for a poor boy?

Abberline *finds some coins in his pocket, shoves them to Charlie and takes the chest inside to the living-room where Raven is reading a book on football legends, sits down in the sofa and looks at the chest frowning.  It must be the chest that his sister wrote about in her letter.  He is very pleased that she decided not to show up after all and just sent the chest instead.*

Raven *puts book down, comes over to him*  Father, what’s this?

Abberline:  I've got no idea.  There isn't even a key to it.  Nor a keyhole.  Looks old, the hinges are rusty and the wood is all gone grey.  I don't know what to do with it, and since I understood it comes from my mother, I doubt I even want to open it.

Raven *excited*  But … aren’t you curious?  Don’t you wanna know what’s in it?  It might be somethin’ good.  We could just bust it open … *grins at Abberline*

Abberline *smiles at his excitement*  Believe me, when it comes from her, it can't be anything good for me and that's why I am not very curious about it.  And I don't know if I have any tools.  *looks at Raven and his shining eyes, remembers suddenly the cold atmosphere of his own home, the parents frowning on him, whatever he did*  A kitchen knife?  A poker from the fireplace … it doesn't look very strong.  Shall I smash it?  Or do you want to try something, you are always so resourceful.

Raven *smile grows broader*  I know what you’re thinking … you’d like to smash it.  *runs to the fireplace, grabs two pokers; brings them back, hands one to Abberline*  Let’s both smash it, at the same time!

*Note:  He is his mother’s son – give ‘im a shovel, LOL!*

Abberline *takes the poker*  Count to three and hit it.  *they both swing the poker at the chest and at first try it shatters and shards fly in all directions.  Abberline, still smiling, takes a paper that lies on top of some smaller boxes hidden inside the chest, folds it open, begins to read and his smile fades gradually*  This is from my mother.

Raven *looks concerned*  What does it say, Father?  Why would your mother give you something to make you unhappy?

Abberline *sits at the sofa, dazed and upset about the letter, lights a cigarette*  You did not know what she was like.  I am glad that she is dead.  *shrugs*  Read for yourself.  *hands him the letter written on thick paper with an elegant but somewhat shaky hand*

Frederick,

I am sure that you were not waiting for the traditional Dear son -beginning and that sentimental stuff that I have been waiting for you to make up with you now that I am going to see my Maker and want us to forget all our disagreements. And I am not doing it. I don't think I have anything that I needed you to forgive me for. Unlike you, but I know I never would hear a word of apology from you.

I wanted to see you for the last time to tell you straight eye to eye that I never cared for you. But you know that, don't you. It seems to have been mutual right from the beginning. And it is the beginning that I am going to tell you about. Like your fat and meddling friend the Sergeant Something said there isn't a mother who wouldn't want to be at her only son's wedding. Maybe he is right, I wouldn't know, because you are not my son at all. It really doesn't grieve me much. No wonder that you always were the black sheep and the misfit of the family. You are the one that tore this family apart for good. There's no doubt about who your father is. He betrayed me, and though I tried, I never really could forgive him. Especially when you were there reminding me of his sin. I don't know who your mother was and I never cared to know. Your father never told the reason why he brought you to our home without asking anything from me first. Maybe even a bastard son was better than no son at all. You should have shown some respect and gratefulness for my accepting you in the family. You never did.
 
I don't know what this chest contains, probably letters and photos and stuff like that somehow related to you. Your father hid it away and I found it by chance not long ago. Do what you want with it.

I don't expect to see you at my death bed. You were always so ungrateful.

Sylvia Abberline.

Raven *reads the letter twice, horrified.  Despite cruel prejudices he’s felt from strangers at times, especially when he and True Dreamer were nomadic, he’s always known so much love throughout his life that he finds this attitude unspeakable.  He thinks how lucky he's been, for all the kind people around him who have helped make him feel safe, happy and loved – True Dreamer … Manouche … Blake … Alifi … and finally, when he found them at last, now his mother and father.  His mother even showed him great love when she gave him up as a baby, knowing she couldn’t properly care for him at the time; she gave him to True Dreamer.  He lowers the letter, looks at Abberline, smoking, hand trembling slightly, face pale; he tosses the page to the floor angrily, and he comes up to Abberline and hugs him, tears in his eyes*  Father, she didn’t know you … she didn’t try to know you … she’s wrong, Father … she was a fool.  I hate her ...

Abberline *hugging him*  It doesn't matter, she is dead now.  I knew it would be something unpleasant but now I know why she was like that to me.  Raven, I hate her, I always hated her.  As my father.  But I don't want to think of them.  I want finally to have a real family, a good and warm family.  I just don't know if I am worthy of it.  I still feel that it's like a dream I wake from finding myself alone again.  *hugs Raven more tightly*

Raven:  You won’t ever have to be alone again, Father.  You’ll have Mother, an’ me, an’ Chiana.  *smiles*  An’ Sergeant Godley.

Abberline *sighs*  I hope so.  I really do.  Raven, I feel tired, I need to rest.  I was so sure that she could not hurt me anymore, but ... *stops, crushes his cigarette, then smiles to himself*  I am not going to any opium den this time to rest, Raven, I hope I never have to descend those stairs again.  Will you put the boxes somewhere?  I don't feel like going through them now.  *goes up the stairs to the bedroom*

At the Wonkas’ factory:

Willy still sits up in bed, hasn't moved since he woke up. He holds in his hands the picture of Manouche, Blake, Madame, and himself, Madame walks in, carrying Will in her arms*

Madame *sits next to him on the bed* well you can’t possibly sit there forever Willy.

Willy *not looking up*  Watch me.

Madame  No.

Willy  Tough.

Madame *places Will down on the bed, he looks around dazed, sees Willy, reaches out for him, Willy does nothing*  Willy...

Willy:  I don't want him feeling my pain

Madame  Willy he's an infant.

Willy  I know he can feel it.

Madame  He doesn't Willy.  All he feels right now is you.  That’s all he wants.  He's reaching for you.

Willy  *looks up at her, tears in his eyes, holds his hands up to her, scarred and burned from putting so much work into the factory*  This?  He reaches for scars?  Shows my son.

Madame  Your scars and burns represent your factory, Willy.  All your commitment and work.

Willy  How do I know anymore?  I broke a promise.  My first broken promise.  This could mean so many things.  How do I know I won't break the promise to raise my kids right?  I'm not risking it.

Madame   Willy, they aren’t trash.  You can just use them then throw them away.

Willy  I'm not. I'm saving them.

Madame  You’re being a fool

Willy  *a tear rolls down his face, he rubs his head, whispers*  Get out.

Madame *her hands grip for a second, then relax*  No. Take your son, Willy.

Willy *begins to cry, yells*  Get out!!!!

Madame *the baby bursts into tears at hearing Willy yelling, she picks him up and cradles him, stands up*  You fool!!!

Willy  *looks at her, his eyes a deep red*  I'm not going to tell you again.  GET OUT!!!!!!!

Madame *tears roll down your face*  I HOPE YOUR HAPPY, WILLIAM WONKA!!! *quickly makes her way out of the room*

Willy  *yells, then picks up a crystal gift from their wedding that was sitting on the end table*  GET THE HELL OUT!!! *throws it at her, it just misses the door, and Madame, and hits a wall, smashing into bits, he covers his face with his hands and screams.  *Madame, still holding Will, she makes her way to the nearest phone in the kitchen, dials the only number she can think of at that moment, it rings twice*

Voice  *a small light voice*  Office of Wilbur Wonka D.D.S.  Would you like to schedule an appointment?

Madame  No...I'm Kimberley Wonka.  His daughter-in-law.  Put me through to him immediately.

Voice  *stutters a bit under shock*  W-well he's in surgery right now, Madame Wonka.

Madame  *gets angry*  I said now you bumbling baboon!  Or I will personally see to it that your fired!!! *in the middle of her screaming, the voice clicks off, she fetches Wilbur immediately and tells him who it is*

Wilbur  *picks up the phone*  Kim?  What is it?  I'm in the middle of a wisdom-tooth removal.

Madame  *tears roll down her face*  Oh god...dad...he wont even touch his kids anymore...I don't know what to do...he's..he's insane...he's kept himself in the bedroom....

Wilbur *trying to comprehend her*  Willy?!

Madame   Yes!!!

Wilbur *pauses*  Okay, I'll be over as soon as I can alright? Just leave him be for now...stay out...and stop that baby from his crying.  I can hear him.  Be a mother right now.

Madame *nods even though he can’t see her* Okay. *they both hang up, she rocks him in her arms until he stops*  God...please help us.....

Wilbur *makes his way to the master suite a little later than he wanted to.  As soon as he walks in, Madame runs up to him* 

Madame *tears fall down her face* Please..please make him stop this dad...

Wilbur *takes her hands*  I will, I will.  You have to give me time with him.  *pauses* Where are the children?

Madame *wipes eyes* They all fell asleep.  Will was the one you heard crying.  I calmed him down.

Wilbur *nods, leads her to the door of the master bedroom* Okay, okay, okay.  Just go in and tell him I'm here ok?

Madame *nods, turns, goes inside, sees Willy standing up, looking at photos sitting on the furniture in the room, speaks softly*  Willy....

Willy *doesnt even turn to look at her*  Haven't I told you before?

Madame  I know but...

Willy *turns, suprising her, grabs her wrists, twisting them, she cries out, his eyes meet with hers and suddenly she's afraid*  I told you to STAY out.  Didn't I?  Do I have to hit you to make you understand that?!

Wilbur *enters*  You will be doing no such thing, Willy Wonka.  Now let her go.

Willy *sees his father, lets her go quickly*

Madame *her wrists sting, she walks up to Wilbur, who takes her wrists to examine them*

Wilbur *sees the red marks all over*  Ice them.  You'll be alright. *shows a soothing look in his eyes, shes suddenly calm again, she smiles, nods, and walks out, he turns to Willy*  What have you become?

Willy  *glaring*  You...

Wilbur *nods*  Yes you have.  All because of a single promise

Willy  ...that led to the death of my brother.

Wilbur ...which wasn't your fault.

Willy *pauses*  You created this.  You'll leave it just like you've left me for all my years *goes to walk past him, Wilbur grabs his wrists now, even though Willy is powerful, he falls under his father, falling to his knees*  No....please....

Wilbur  *holds tight*  You know what your doing?  You know how it feels now don't you.  What its like.

Willy *tears stream down his face*  Yes...yes...please...

Wilbur   Do you know the consequences?!  Have you even taken a look around?!  You'll lose your life's work, your children, and... *takes Willy's head, turns it to a picture frame holding a picture of Madame on their wedding day, in her dress*  ....her.  Do you want to do that? *turns him back, grabs his hands again*  Everything...your LIFE.  You've already begun losing it, Willy.  Now she FEARS you.  Just as you fear...me.  *looks down at him intently*

Willy *cowers under his stare*  No...I love her....

Wilbur   Then you will make NO attempts to rid of her or everything she comes with.  She's the mother of your children. Your partner in your work.  Your love.  Do you want to do what I did?

Willy  *even his knees begin to weaken, he realizes that his father is holding him up, but he still kneels to him*  No....no....my life...

Madame *comes over, stands next to Wilbur, ice on her wrists*  Then stand up, Willy.  *Willy looks up at them both, the tears still rolling down,  the looks on their faces show seriousness.  But they also give him strength*

Wilbur   Stand up.  You're no longer weak, Willy.  Rise.

Madame  Everyone expects something out of you.  Do it.  Be the person they see.  Get up.

Willy *still staring at them, looks down at the ground, slowly puts his feet solid on the ground and rises weakly, first becoming taller than Madame, then taller than Wilbur, wipes his face.  Madame smiles at him*

Wilbur *smiles too, lets go*  You've done it.  *Willy looks strongly at her, then him, then smiles*

On The Apparition:

Arriving at Bournemouth House, Kat watches as Manouche disappears from sight, reluctant to enter.  Has second thoughts, not wanting to have more words with Abby.  She decides to check on her ship and return later.  Sets out to the docks and boards the Apparition.*

Portsmith *on her way from the office to the castle, passing the port, suddenly sees Kat board her ship, looks around her and as there is no one in view, quickly follows her and catches her on the deck*  I have to exchange some words, if you please.  Either here in your cabin or at the lockup.

Kat *Scowls at her,hand on the hilt of her sword*  What the blazes 'bout?  I be done no wrong!  Ye 'ave no right!  This be my ship and ye 'ave bo business on it, savvy???

Portsmith:  Then it's best you step back on land.  As for you doing nothing wrong, I beg to differ.  I have a very serious complaint filed against you.  And anyway, what would you be doing on your boat, shouldn't you be playing home somewhere else?  *looks at her, puts hand on the hilt of her sword*  As the Commander of the Deppville Security, I have every right when I am investigating a serious crime.

Kat *Drawing her sword.*  I'm 'ere checkin' on me ship and I done told ye I be done naught wrong.  I' 'ave no intention of goin' anywhere with ye.  As for me 'ome life, rest assured mate Abby be most satisfied in e'ery way.  *Smirks*  Savvy??

Portsmith *glares at her*  What about this then - you tried to kill an innocent woman by pushing her in the water.  She couldn't even swim.  What if she had died?  As the Chief of Security I can't leave a grave matter like this to be.  Put down your sword.  Believe me I do not want to hear any details about your home life, thank you.  Have fun as long at is lasts.  Which won't be very long anyway.  What do you have to say about the complaint of Lady Cynthia Ainsworth?  What did you do that for?

Kat *Frowns, thinks bloody bitch.*  It were bein' an accident, she got a lil too close te the edge and I were simply reachin' out te 'elp 'er with the best intent.  But she went o'er anyway.  Savvy?  'sides it were in the shallows … she'd 'ave 'ad to work awful 'ard te drown in waist high water, eh?

Portsmith:  And that's your story?  You have not taken in account that there are two eyewitnesses and their story is somewhat different.  As Lady Cynthia's.  She said that you insulted her very rudely and pushed her quite deliberately.  I bet you haven't told at home about this incident?  *smirks*  He must be proud to have a criminal pirate wife.

Manouche *on her way from Bournemouth House to From Hell Court, passing the docks, sees Kat and Portsmith on the deck of The Apparition.  Stops, calls out*  Eh, Kat!  Commander!  What’s th’ commotion, then, luvs?  Can ye use some assist?

Kat *Calls back to Manouche*  Bloody 'ell mate.  Portsmith be tryin' te jail me on a trumped up charge!

Portsmith *to Manouche*  I am just setting my records straight.  As you should understand, I can't just ignore a complaint like that.  I am just wanting to have Kat's side.  *glares at Kat*  I can't drop a case just like that without the proper paperwork.  *smiles to Kat*  So wherever did you get that idea from, jail?  I just want you to give your statement and sign it.  Is that too much to ask?  *whispers to Kat*  You're a dead woman, Kat.  No one plays with me.

Kat *Sneers*  And just 'ow much did ye pay them witnesses te lie, eh?  *to Manouche*  Manouche, she be that trouble in the air.  Iffen I go with 'er, I'll ne'er see the light of day again.  Savvy?

Portsmith:  Perhaps you're not so popular as you think.  They showed up on their own accord.  *leans towards her, in a low voice*  Be careful.  Sooner or later, I'll get you.

Manouche *quickly boards the Apparition, approaches them, looks at Portsmith, her voice congenial*  Blimey, Commander, per’aps we can discuss this.  I’m not certain, but I’m guessin’ this all has somethin’ to do with a certain incident that took place at th’ docks yesterday … an’ I’m assumin’ the complainin’ party is one Lady Cynthia, also known as Inspector Abberline’s sister.  Am I right?  I can shed some light on it, if this is th’ case.  I were a witness, an’ I can assure ye, it were jus’ one o’ our Kat’s playful moments, savvy?  *gives Kat a warning glance, thinks BE CONTRITE, MATE.  Turns back to Portsmith*  Th’ water were shallow, th’ day were mild … I’m sure she were in no danger, as it were.  Why would Kat allow harm t’ come to th’ Inspector’s own flesh an’ blood, ay?  Use yer head, luv … with all due respect, that is.  I can go ye one further, if ye like ... I 'appen to 'ave th' acquaintance o' the pirate ... er, businessman ... who fished 'er out.  He were talkin' 'bout it quite braggin'-like at From Hell Court last night.  How he took 'er purse off 'er, gave her a ride, said she wouldn't shut up.  If I may say so, she's a bit of an instigator, if ye catch me meanin'.  A queen mixer, as it were.

Portsmith *glares at her, rolls eyes*  Don't you both ever listen.  I am not accusing her.  I am just investigating.  I need her statement on paper with her signature, don't you get it.  *looks at Kat sideways*  I can't understand how you could behave like that.  She is a fine Lady, a real one.  Nothing like you try to play.  You are just shaming the Inspector.  *looks her up and down with contempt*

Kat *hand tightening on hilt of her sword.*  I 'ave no trust for ye.  Go back te yer snakepit of an office.  I'll come there only with Abby and Manouche at me side with me sword at 'and.

Manouche *to Portsmith*  Very sensible, that need of a statement on paper, can’t argue that.  I’m sure we can straighten this whole mess out to everyone's satisfaction.  *reaches in her pocket, pulls out a large roll of bills, some of the money she earned at From Hell Court*  By th’ way, Commander, it occurred t’ me that I’ve been remiss in donatin’ to yer statue fund.  I’d like t’ right that situation at this moment, if ye’d be so kind as t’ accept.  *peels off a significant amount of cash, hands it to Portsmith*  Per’aps this’ll go a ways in rectifyin’ th’ ill feelin’s we 'ave flyin’ about right ‘ere an’ now.  This is all a misunderstandin’, I’m sure we can make it right with Lady Cynthia, convince her to drop these absurd charges against our Kat.  Go on, Commander, take th' money, I insist.  We wouldn’t want t’ lose you.  Ye play an important role in this town, don’t ya?  Granted, ye ‘ave talents that could be put to use … but let’s face it, luv, filmmakin’ is a hobby, an’ most difficult to turn into a lucrative career, innit?  *gives her a significant look, thinking of the microchips*

Portsmith *snatches the money from Manouche*  How can I know it's not stolen money? *pockets it fast before Manouche has a chance to reply, turns to Kat* I will be waiting for you then to give your official statement. You can take anyone you want. And will you remind your dear husband that he still got his job at the Office to attend to. *turns abruptly on her heels, walks away muttering to herself*

Manouche *her voice cheery, calls after her*  Aye, ‘ave a fine day, Commander!  *shakes head, turns to Kat*  Right, luv … yer off th’ hook fer th’ time bein’, but it looks like ye’ll ‘ave to show up at th’ Security office to give a statement.  No worries, ye ‘ave a lot in yer favor.  Th’ Inspector’ll be right by yer side, an’ … well, ‘course I’ll be there with ye as well, if ye want me, mate.  *looks to see that Portsmith is out of sight, doesn’t see her; nods, turns back to Kat*  I reckon ye best get home, an’ tell th’ Inspector all about this.  Ye ‘ave nothin’ to fear, jus’ talk to him, he’s yer lovin’ husband.  He loves ye desp’rate, an’ I’m sure he has less than cozy feelin’s fer that sister o’ his.  Get word t’ me when yer goin’ to file yer statement, an’ I’ll be there, I promise.  *looks up at the sky*  I reckon I’d best be on me way, mate.  I ‘ave a job to do … entertainin’ th’ masses, as it were.  *turns to leave the ship*

Ichy *watching from an alleyway how Portsmith leaves the Apparition, he watches Kat and Manouche on the deck, Kat laughing at Portsmith, putting her sword back in the hilt, and the sun catches the diamonds in her engagement ring.  Ichy stifles a sob and his eyes turn cold.  He pulls his gun out of the pocket and walks to the Apparition*  You betrayed me.  You broke your promise to me and left me at the hands of the vampires.  I am not having it any more, you can't treat me anymore like that.  *points the gun at Kat*

Kat *Caught off guard*  Ichy?  *Looks at gun*  Ichy, ye don't wanna be doin'this luv.  *Nervously glancing at Manouche.*  Ye won't shoot, ye know that.  Just put it away, eh?

Ichy *slightly trembling, but with cold resolute eyes, raises the gun to aim at her heart*  I will shoot - I have nothing more to lose, slighted by the Commander and slighted even worse by you.  You left me to die and I believed you really cared for me but it was just false all along.  If I can't have you, I will see that he won't either.  A bit late calling me luv, isn't it.

Manouche:  Blimey, Ichy, mate … where ye been keepin’ yerself, ay?  C’mon, this ain’t no way t’ behave when we ain’t seen ye in so long.  *approaches him, puts arm around his shoulders*  What’s say I buy ye a drink, luv?  C’mon, let’s repair t’ Chez Roux, it’s on me, whatever ye like.  An’ ye can pour out yer troubles to ol’ Manouche.  Savvy?

Kat *Swallows hard.*  Please, listen te Manouche.  Ye 'ave always been proud of bein' an officer of the law.  Don't ruin it ‘cause of me, eh?

Ichy *gun wavers, but he doesn't put it down*  You made me a vampire bait, and their lair was full of spiders and no one came to rescue me and the Commander fired me because I didn't show up at the Office.  What kind of law officer am I anymore?  *sniffs*  You didn't even come looking for me.  I could as well be dead.  *to Manouche*  I have had enough of being treated like this.  *to Kat*  Don't you remember the pendant I gave you?  I guess that it didn't mean anything to you.

Kat:  Please I did try te get 'elp for ye.  But don't ye be rememberin' I were 'er victim to for a time, as I recollect ye 'elped 'old me for 'er.  I always 'ad feelin's for ye, and always will.  I treasure that pendant dearly.  What would it take that would keep ye from shootin'?  *Reluctantly*  Maybe instead of shootin' me, I be most certain the Commander would forgive all if ye took me in.

Manouche *glances at Kat, speaks to Ichy*  Y’know, luv, you an’ I, we ‘ave a lot t’ commiserate on, savvy?  Ye’ve dealt with vampires, an’ … well, so ‘ave I.  I … I lost me Mr. Blake to ‘em.  Saw it with me own eyes.  *she reaches slowly for his gun, gently takes it from him, her voice soft*  Don’t go doin’ somethin’ ye’ll regret, mate.  How ‘bout you an’ I go talk about it?  I don’t know about you, but I could use a lendin’ ear from a bloke what has some idea o’ what it is I’m feelin’ at this particular juncture.  *looks at him, her deep sorrow in her eyes*

Ichy *defiant, but avoiding her eyes* I don't have anything to talk about to you. *brushes his coat, sniffs* Is that all you have to say, Kat?* I am sure that at least the Commander will be pleased to see that I am back. *turns and leaves*

Ichy *turns around*  Maybe that would be the best to do.  Please follow me to the Office.  Goodbye, Manouche.  Thank you for your offer, but as you see, I have work to do.  Your feelings for me didn't weigh much in the end.  *takes a handkerchief and dusts his coat*

Manouche *calls after them*  Kat, no worries, savvy?  I'll ... I'll go get th' Inspector, an' tell him what 'appened.  He'll be there t' bail ye out in no time, mate, steady on!  *looks down at Ichy's gun in her hand; sighs.  Leaves the ship, heads for Bournemouth House*

Kat *Glances back worriedly at Manouche*  Ichy, ye know we could work somethin' else out.  Why don't ye let me make it up te ye.  Surely we could come te an understandin'  *Gives him a come hither look*  Savvy?  

Ichy:  And how would that be?  You are married.  Excuse me for neglecting to congratulate you on said happy event.  *sniffs, looks at her nervously*  If I bring you to the Commander, she will certainly promote me.  She respects me.

Kat:  Ichy, luv marriage be only a piece of paper and I still be a pirate.  We could go somewhere more private and I promise ye'll get more pleasure than the Commanders respect,eh?  *Smiles seductively*

Ichy *swallows, but takes her hand*  You are not angry with me then?  *let's himself be led away*

Kat *Stops, pulls him close kissing him passionately as she steals his gun, steps back points it at him.*  Sorry Ichy, ye'll always 'old a piece of my 'eart, luv.  But ye were more than willin' te shoot me.  That's gonna be a lil 'ard te forget.  Now take off yer clothes, all of 'em.  *Points gun at him*  Savvy?

Ichy *looks at her horrified*  Wha ... what do you mean?  *swallows*  I was not going to shoot you.  *tries to back off*  I admit I got a little nervous and may have acted on impulse, but I was not going to shoot you.  *looks at her hopefully*

Kat *Looks at him sadly*  But ye were, luv.  I saw it in yer eyes.  Without Manouche's intervention, I'd be a corpse by now.  Now off with the clothes.  I don't wanta 'ave te 'urt ye so 'urry it up.

At Bournemouth House:

Manouche *approaches the front door, knocks*  Inspector, Raven, are ye home?  It’s Manouche, please let me in, it’s important.

Raven *answers door, face brightens as he sees Manouche*  Come in, Father’s upstairs.  We were just goin’ through a box he got from … *his voice trails off as he looks closer at her, sees the effects of the opium.  He realizes this is the first he’s seen her since he heard about Blake.  He looks at her, his eyes full of of sympathy and love*  Oh, Manouche … *throws his arms around her*

Manouche *hugs him close*  Ch-cheers, lil’ mate.  I … I reckon this means ye heard about … *she can’t bring herself to say it.  Holds him tight, then pulls him back, looks at him, touched by the tears in his eyes*  There, there, luv … we ‘ave t’ carry on, savvy?  I need ye to do somethin’ fer me.  Actually, it’s fer yer mum … I need ye to go upstairs, get yer dad, an’ take him to th’ Security office.  Tell ‘im Kat’s been arrested by Constable Crane.  It’s a long story, but I promised her I’d get word to yer dad, so he could go down an’ straighten everythin’ out.  Per’aps … he’ll want ye to go with him.  I … I wouldn’t do much good, I don’t reckon … th’ Commander’s already put out with me.  So I’ll leave it to ye an’ yer dad to sort it out.  Can ye do that fer me?  I … ‘ave an appointment, as it were …

Raven *nods*  Manouche, don’t go back there, please come with us.

Manouche *shakes her head*  No, luv.  I ‘ave a job.  No worries … I ain’t … plannin’ on dippin’ into th’ stuff tonight.  I’m a bit too tired, savvy?  *brings a hand to his face, caresses it gently*  Blimey, I’ve missed ye, lil’ mate.  But I’m glad ye ‘ave a home here with yer parents at last.  *swallows, then speaks again, her voice brisk*  Right, no more messin’ about!  Get a move on, all right?  Hurry, go get yer dad.  I’ll … be on me way.  *leans down, kisses his cheek; turns, walks away from the house, heads for From Hell Court*

Raven *watches her leave, brushes tears away, runs upstairs to get Abberline*  Father, come quick … Mother needs our help …

At From Hell Court:

Manouche *hurrying from Bournemouth House, finally makes it to the tavern, enters, heads for the back stairs, makes her way down to the opium den.  She pauses at one of the low couches, sees a man lying there, passed out, the pipe swung away from him.  She crouches down, grasps the pipe, takes a quick hit from it, closes her eyes in bliss.  She feels a rough hand grab her by the arm, pull her to her feet*

Ivan *angry*  Where the hell have you been, it’s late.  *scowls at the pipe she’s just let drop from her hands*  You’ll have time for your nasty habit later, junkie scum.  C’mon.  *he slaps her hard across the face, then drags her to the back room, where voices rise up as they see her enter.  He shoves her forward*  Get to work.

Manouche *stands trembling as she listens to the din of voices, some who have come back for more, some who haven’t yet seen her act but have heard of it, and are skeptical.  She addresses one of the skeptics first, sits down at the table, insists on someone giving her their gun.  A pistol is passed to her, she spins the cylinder.  The voices around her become quieter as they watch.  She holds the gun to her head, concentrates, and realizes that the cylinder has landed on the live shot.  She hesitates, looks around the room at the rough crowd, the money changing hands, the doorway leading to the opium den, and Ivan, standing by the door, glaring at her, his expression full of Gypsy prejudice, balanced by his greed at what a valuable commodity she has become for him.  Visions fill her head all at once – the last time she saw Blake … her brother’s death … the torture on the small island off Fiji at the hands of the Tagati, despite the fact that not a drop of blood was shed and that he never even laid hands on her, the pain had been excruciating, the spell most effective.  It all closes in on her, and she feels at that moment she could stand up and start screaming and never stop.  Then she’s aware of the gun pointed at her temple.  She could simply pull the trigger, and it would all be over.  All the memories, all the things she feels she could’ve fixed if she’d been smarter, quicker, something, anything … surely she could’ve saved her brother, surely she could’ve begged for mercy from the captain who set the Tagati upon her, surely she could’ve … never approached Blake in the first place that first night at Chez Roux – should’ve just let him enjoy a drink and leave, instead of inviting him back to The Libertine Trailer that night.  He’d still be alive today.  She flexes her fingers around the handle of the gun, in sort of a caress; it suddenly feels so good, it feels like salvation, delivery from the hopelessness.  Just one pull of the trigger … it would be over, the knowledge of the future before her, bleak, no family of her own, despite the best of intentions from so many loved ones all around her, it’s not the same, and they all bloody well know it … Raven will soon be too busy to visit often.  He’ll be with his family, his new little sister, which is as it should be, Manouche would have it no different … but it doesn’t stop the ache, the burning pain inside, the knowledge that these things will never be for her, she’ll be forever on the outside looking in.*

*She hears the voices all around her, cheers and jeers … she smirks at them, brings the gun around, puts the barrel in her mouth, and the voices grow louder … she starts to squeeze the trigger … then at the last minute, she pulls the gun from her mouth and points it toward the ceiling, fires the live round.  The room goes quiet for a split second, then everyone cheers; there are no more taunts or cynical insults filling the air.  Several congratulatory hands clap her on her shoulders, she winces as some of them come down hard on the new tattoo … a few drinks are set in front of her.  She picks up two of them, stands up, moves away from the table so two players can take their places.  She looks across the room at Ivan, who’s watching her curiously.  She returns his stare, her eyes remote, as she downs one drink in one gulp, quickly followed by the other.  She then turns her attention to the game, letting her concentration of the spinning cylinder crowd every other thought from her head, for the time being … *