INKSPELL SPOILERS BELOW!

Disclaimer: Inkheart ain't mine. Or not only would Basta never have died, he'd also rule the world by now.

A/N: Yeah. I read Inkspell and cried one helluva lot over poor Basta's fate. So, on the off-chance that he's not brought back, I decided to write this little one shot. It's meant to be a little unbelievable, but I tried to make it as plausible as possible. If it gets a laugh from you, all the better, but this is mainly for me to say I wrote it. Why? Because I love Basta, and having him dead makes me depressed. And violent. So. Please reasd, and if you would, leave a little review telling me what you thought.

A LITTLE TOO OBSESSED

Niki shut the book with a snap.

"Right," she said, controlling herself with difficulty. "Right." She got to her feet and crossed to her dresser. There it was, just where she had left it, pinned to the cork board she used to keep reminders and the like handy. She ripped the piece of paper away, eyeing it triumphantly for a second before stuffing it in her pocket, and throwing herself down into the chair. She pulled a pad of A4 writing paper towards her, flipped the lid off her trusty fountain pen, and began to write.

The bar was crowded, noisy and crowded. Girls giggled and women cackled, while men roared for more drinks and entertainment. Then the door swung open.

Framed in the doorway was a fourteen year old girl. She wore a baggy navy sweater and a pair of jeans that seemed to be fraying where they were too long and caught under her shoes. One hand was clasping the strap of a well-worn rucksack she had slung over her shoulders. She was completely out of place n the rowdy, musty bar.

Silence fell for a good few minutes. Then, the girl cleared her throat.

"Hello!" she said brightly. "I'm looking for a Mister…er…" she paused, and frowned. Then, she stuck her hand into the pocket of the jeans with such force several of the people near her started slightly. When she pulled it out again, she was clutching a crumpled sheet of paper, with several messy lines of writing scrawled upon it. She squinted at it through her glasses. "Gyori," she said at last. "A Mister Daniel Gyori. Is he here?" She peered around expectantly . No one moved. Then-

"Erm -Miss?" A rather fat man, short but round, who had been sitting hidden in the shadows at the far end of the bar had raised his hand. "My name is Daniel Gyori."

The girl's beam was so wide it could have knocked her ears of. Suddenly, Daniel regretted attracting her attention and wished he had simply sat in the darkness and let some other poor fellow suffer. The girl was clearly insane. "Excellent!" she said. "Well, Mr Gyori, if I could have a word?" She waited for him to clamber off his stool, and move towards the door, before she turned and walked out without so much as another word. Daniel hesitated, before venturing out after her.

Inside the pub, it took many minutes for the talk to begin again. Slowly, the clamour rose, until it was at its usual level. Amidst the noise, the barkeeper scribbled something on a pad of paper kept beneath the bar.

4th October - Another lunatic came in. Lost Daniel this time. Bet it's Amanda next.

"Well, Mr Gyori."

"Call me Daniel."

"Daniel." The girl smiled again. Daniel didn't like her smile. It was… creepy. "I hear you have an unusual talent. I hear you can read in a most…fascinating way."

Something on her face told Daniel that this girl "hearing" about his gift hadn't been a matter of mere chance- rather that of long research and desperate searches. There was a madness in her eyes. Involuntarily, Daniel took a step away from her.

"Yes…" he said uncertainly. "I…I can read people - characters - from books. Take them right out of their story. Bring them here. But someone-"

The girl interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "I know, I know, someone has to go in their place, keep the balance and all that. The thing is, I want to go IN to a book. No, no, don't look so alarmed!" She laughed as Daniel gave her a horrified look. "It can be done, it's actually easier than you think. I even have the words for you." Reaching into her rucksack, she pulled out another sheet of paper, somewhat less crumpled than the one she had read his name from. "Here we go." She thrust it towards him.

Daniel studied it in silence for a few moments. Could it hurt to give it a go? The prospect was intriguing- reading someone into a book rather than out of it. And he so rarely read at all nowadays…

"Alright," he said. "I'll gave it a go. But I can't guarantee-"

"Oh, THANK YOU!" the girl exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Call me Niki by the way. Can you do it now?"

Daniel nodded. "Here?"

"Right here."

"Very well." And he began to read.

Niki felt the words envelop her- the words she herself had written barely twenty-four hours ago. The man had a good voice. Now…she felt a new, different ground form beneath her feet. She rubbed her eyes to clear the daze of colours and found the world around her to, indeed, be the one she had intended it to be. She was in the Inkworld.

She readjusted the pack on her back, grinning. It had been easier than she had expected to get here, to this strange world that, by all rights, shouldn't exist. She had found Gyori easily enough, but that was with modern technology available. Now she was faced with a much more daunting task: finding Fenoglio in a world with no electricity, phones or gene tracing. Her grin widened. She had always loved a challenge.

But where to start? She had no idea where he would be now, the end of 'Inkspell' hadn't given much indication as to where the characters were going next.

It was at that moment two martens came streaking towards her.

Farid stopped short at the sight of the strange girl standing in the field. To be honest, she looked a bit lost, but she was grinning like a maniac. She was wearing clothes that looked as if they belonged somewhere else, as of they belonged-

"Meggie!" he cried. The girl looked up at the sound of his voice, and her eyes widened. Meggie appeared at Farid's shoulder.

"Farid? Is everything- who on earth is that?"

"I don't know. I think…she's from your world, though!"

Meggie squinted at the girl. "Do you know, I think you're right!" She laughed. "Hey!" she called to the strange girl. "Hey! Where are you from?"

"Dunno!" the girl called back. "Well, I don't know what you'd call it. Probably a place like where you came from. Do you have Fenoglio with you?"

Farid blinked. How did the girl know the Inkweaver? But she was already making her way towards them.

"Hello!" she said, looking excitedly from face to face. "Farid…and Meggie…right? I'm Niki. You don't know me, but I know you. Sort of. Well. Is Fenoglio around?"

Farid nodded dumbly as he heard the others catching up with him.

"Well, well," he heard Silvertongue say. "What have we here?"

"No," said Fenoglio, for the thousandth time. "No, no, a million times NO!"

"Come on!" Niki whined. "Please."

"No! The man's a murderer! You cannot honestly expect me to-"

"Please! Come on, you said it yourself, I know you did, he was one of your favourite inventions!"

"Listen, girl, just because you have read some story about me and seem to know almost everything there is to know about this situation-"

"PLEASE! I can fix it, I know I can, and you can too, so that it's all OK. You're the best writer around! You created all of this!" She waved her arms around frantically. Meggie and Mo cast each other a furtive look. They had taken a backseat in the argument, which had begun as a heated quarrel with everyone against the girl Niki, and had now become something of a shouting match between the stranger and Fenoglio.

"That is irrelevant! You cannot fix his character, he's evil, that's how I made him! You-"

"I can, I can! I know just how to do it! I-"

"WILL YOU STOP INTERRUPTING ME?" Fenoglio thundered . The girl coughed meekly. "Thank you. Listen to me, child. You cannot fix his character, you cannot make him good. It would be too foreign to the character I invented, it wouldn't fit in with the story."

"I know," said Niki earnestly. "But I worked it all out! Look…" She turned and fumbled in the rucksack she had brought with her, pulling out a ring-bound notebook. Flipping it open, she thrust it towards the old man. "Here! See for yourself!"

Fenoglio studied the scribbles for a few minutes, in silence. Everyone held their breath. Surely, surely nothing the girl could have written there could have persuaded the man to do the unthinkable- to bring Basta back, the way he had Cosimo? Then, he looked up.

"You have thought hard about this." It was a statement, not a question.

She nodded. "I have. Look- we can sop him hurting people there, with the trembling…and here, that's how to bring him back! Please, he'll be no trouble! I just can't stand him being dead!"

Fenoglio scrutinised her closely. "Well…alright then, I will try."

A cry of outrage came from many mouths, and a whoop of joy and thanks from Niki's.

"You can't be serious!" cried Farid. "He…he KILLED me!"

"Farid's right!" echoed Meggie. "how can she persuade you-"

Fenoglio held up his hand for silence. "Don't worry, everyone. I know exactly how to handle this. Basta will be back, but not here, and he won't be able to hurt anyone. This girl has thought everything through, it seems."

Niki smiled proudly. "So…you'll do it?"

"I will. I will have the words ready by morning. Then all we'll need is a reader." He glanced over at Meggie.

"Don't look at me!" she cried. "I'm not bringing him back, oh no!"

"I will."

Everyone turned to stare in amazement at Mo.

"I will. So long as I agree that everything is…safe."

Niki nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, thank you all!"

"You're welcome. Now, to bed with you all!" said Fenoglio. "I have important words to write.

Mo cleared his throat. He had awoken early to the scratching of Fenoglio's quill. After all the damage the old man had caused it was a wonder he could bear to write at all. But still…the girl had seemed pretty desperate. How strange that anyone would want Basta alive, of all people…

Now, Mo stood, ready to read the words. Fenoglio was awake, and so was the girl, but everyone else was still fast asleep. Easier not to wake them, easier to just go ahead and get it over with. Mo began to read.

"The dew clung to the wet grass. Somewhere, a man was stirring. A man thought to be dead. Basta groaned and raised his head. Why was he still alive? Hadn't Silvertongue…hadn't the man run him through? Basta pulled himself up off the ground. Then he remembered. The potion! The potion Mortola had been feeding him for months, the one that was supposed to heal all wounds and keep you alive despite all the odds. Well, the wretched concoction seemed to have done the trick, even if it had tasted awful. Basta gritted his teeth. Damn that Silvertongue, damn him, and his daughter, and his wife! Damn Dustfinger, and the boy, and the little witch as well. Damn them all!

With revenge on his mind, Basta reached for his knife. But as he picked it up, his hand began to tremble. Soon, he whole body was shaking so violently he had dropped the knife again. Just as soon as it had started, the shaking stopped. It had hurt, too. Basta growled. He was alive, but it seemed he could no longer use his knife, or indeed any weapon, for the potion had come with severe side-effects…

"Suddenly, Basta felt something pull at him. He remembered the sensation all too well: he was being pulled through to another world, again! And he was powerless to resist. He shut his eyes tight.

When he opened them, as he had expected he was in a whole different world. It was much like Silvertongue's, except different, as if made with deliberate mistakes. He looked around wildly. He was alone, out in a forest much like the one he'd just left. Then he heard a light thud a little way off.

"Meanwhile, the girl who had fallen into the Inkworld knew it was time to go home. Packing up her belongings, she set off down the path leading away from the campsite where she had spent the night, with her eyes closed. She suddenly felt herself falling…then her feet hit the ground. She opened her eyes. She was home."

Mo looked up. Niki was gone, and so, presumably, was Basta. Gone. Gone because Fenoglio's words had decreed it and his voice had called it into being. Even though it was sometimes dangerous, Mo could not help thinking that it was a somewhat amazing thing.

Basta had no idea where he was. One minute he had been lost, lost in the coldness of death, and the next he had been awake, tasting the air, feeling the earth, and the pain when he lifted his knife. So he could never use his weapons again, could never threaten or hurt anybody. It was a high price, but one he was willing to pay.

All he knew was that he was in a forest. An unfamiliar forest, too. He was about to move away to explore, when he heard a dull thump nearby. He froze.

As he watched, a figure straightened up from the bushes. It was a girl, probably a little older than Silvertongue's daughter. She turned and saw him. Her face lit up. "Basta!" she cried. And before he could question it, before he could ask her who she was or where they were, she had barrelled into him, knocking him over.

He looked down at her incredulously. The girl was hugging him.

What had he gotten himself into?