Emigre

Darkness is a harsh term don't you think
Yet it dominates the things I see

It seems that all my bridges have been burned
But you say 'That's exactly how this grace thing works'
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with a re-start

I can only hope that the incident at the Jubilee proves more entertaining than myself. I feel a twinge of self-disgust, that my first thought about a panic and stamped that killed hundreds is only that it stops any gossips from focusing on myself and the Hargreaves title for a moment.
God knows we'll need the privacy. Especially with Riff as he is now; I still remember from Meridiana, and other events, some of the more disturbing things I've heard about maintaining deadly dolls. The fact I'm now taking the Doctor to our hideout doesn't make me feel any more at ease as we trudge through the London streets, still dark from the power failure.
I pull Riff's unwounded arm to me, and then use my leverage to pull us both along at a faster pace. I glance back at Cassian plodding along silently with my half- brother, whom occasionally stirs as if trying to get more comfortable. I give a shallow smile and shake my head when the thought crystallizes: I'm bringing a pair of murders, who are in turn being hunted by even more killers, into my family's safe house all because I can't let go of Riff. But Riff can't let go of me either. We move quicker down the cobble stones as the streets begin to become familiar. I'm sure Uncle Neil and Mary will understand.

Jogging after your half-brother while carrying your dead weight is no good for a man of my age, Jizabel.
Cassandra was not a very athletic man, to be sure. I've tried my best to correct that, and can't help my amusement when I think of Gladstone's ghost raging at my running through London slums. That mental image is a nice break from how serious our situation may be.
Not your wounds, it looks like those'll turn out fine with a doctor. Wait, what I should have said is that your body's wounds don't worry me, Doctor. The wounds on your mind, on the other hand are a whole other terrifying picture. I know you had to get away, you know you had to get away.
But that probably doesn't mean that you'll be able to just accept daddy's death easily; oh, no you won't. I cant imagine you'll be fine with being Cain's house guest or Riff's doctor, but please don't decide to gut the maids in a tantrum, kid. I can't afford a hotel, and I can't think of a better place to hide, and, most importantly the Moon will skin us alive and nail us to Delilah's feast hall once we're found. That'd be a huge step backward for us both, kid.
I'll have to explain all this to you when your up, Doctor. I wonder why I keep talking to you in my head. I've got to quit this habit, right up there with alcohol and cigarettes.

I realize I really need to quit that habit when I bump into Cain's back as he's standing at the door of a property.
It's... Nice, big with an ample flowered and wooded lawn, but in no way distinctive for an upper class home. It's not one of the Hargreaves properties that I remember from my time with the Doctor. They must be renting it to evade Delilah, smart boy (but I guess I already knew that from the trouble you caused the Doctor and I).
There's a thud from the door knocker, and then the door swings open to release a warm light that makes your eyes sore after traveling through sewers all night. The Earl's blond, little kid-sister rushes to wrap her arms about his legs, as high as her body lets her.

"Oscar! Uncle Neil! He's back! Cain's home!"
Riff shifts out of my line of sight a bit, and it's then that I notice the little girl's face is covered in tears and snot as she buries it in her brother's coat side. A red headed man I've seen with Cain before comes rushing giddily up to the door. I shift Jizabel so his face is hidden against my chest, not that it does any good, the boy's hair is pretty hard to forget. Damn flamboyant tastes when we're on the run.
"Didn't I promise you I'd return, Mary?"
The red head seems taken aback as he sees Riff, and then even more so by the Doctor and me. He gives what feels like a forced wave of the hand.

"Uh, hey, Riff! And, uh, Cain is that guy over there-"
"Yes, Oscar, that man is carrying my older half-brother."
"But, Cain what I meant to ask was if-"
"Riff's back, we can trust him the same as before, probably even more. And before you interrupt me again, Oscar, yes, my brother and his friend are staying with us." Oscar, as I now know he's called, shifts his weight between his feet before speaking up.
"Maybe Mary and I should stay elsewhere, ya know, just so there's enough room for your guests."
"That's a good idea, Oscar." Cain replies quietly, maybe thinking I can't hear him.
"That's a bad idea, Lord Earl" I chime in, "if your people move around or act too suspicious, Delilah may become curious about why. Right now, with the Card Master dead by someone else, Delilah has no reason to even care about you, Cain. Don't do anything to give them a reason to start caring about you again."
"Alright, then. Cassian, go in." The golden-eyed noble motions for me go in and get out of sight from the street, continuing "Riff, call a physician who can keep quiet."

The wall is painted a powder blue, I notice while staring at it. Jizabel lies in the bed while I stand by the door of his room, kinda like the old times. Not that I'd want to return to them. I twirl one of my knives to kill the time.
It makes this wait feel productive, like I'm retraining my old skills and not just eaves dropping on the Hargreaves at the floor below me. It's all the stuff you'd typically expect, things like: Cain, did you seriously just bring a pair of Delilah assassins into the house and Uncle Neil, you have to understand- and I'm not sure if his being your brother is sufficient reason then No, it's Riff. He needs a procedure only the Doctor can give. I can't help the spite I feel in the pit of my stomach and deep in my chest at hearing that this is about Jizabel making himself useful all over again. Hell, even I'm using him to get boarding with the Hargreaves. Sorry, Jizabel.
But, hey, beggars can't be choosers.

The physician Cain promised me shows up later, gray bearded and on guard around me.
I wonder if the Earl warned him of us or if the tattered clothes, larger stature and spinning knives just seem that dangerous? Either way's fine with me.
After some tense silence he crosses over to Jizabel only to announce the obvious:
"He seems to have difficulty breathing, sir."
"Really? That might have something to do with the damn bullet wound."
"'Yes, I'd been informed of that" is murmured by the physician before he warns me that what he'll do to drain the blood from the lung will be grisly, and I may want to look away.
"Don't worry, doc, I'm something of a veteran to grisly medical procedures. Why, I can help out in fact."
The only answer I get is a suspicious glance as the physician stabs a small clear tube attached to something resembling a billow into the Doctor's side. I watch the kid wince a bit in his sleep as his lung's drained.
One of my hands scratches his scalp as I mumble keep sleeping, kid without vocalizing the "because I can't deal with you until I've figured things out for myself, Jizabel". When the physician's done, I tell him to give Jizabel a shot of tranquilizer and antibiotics, and to leave some for later, the Earl can pay.
Then, out the door he goes. I go back to the chair at that kid's bedside, while he lays in whatever dream morphine will give. My hand goes back to his scalp.

The Earl comes up to me, Riff tailing behind him, a bit latter.
"Cassian, you know we have enough rooms for you to get your own?" Before I can open my mouth, the mild mannered butler interjects on my behalf:
"Lord Cain, I can't imagine he'd rather be anywhere else." I just grin at that and mutter out a dumb yeah in confirmation.
"That's good." the young lord says happily.
"Hm?" is all I respond; somehow, I'm just not one for conversation right now.
"That my father was wrong about everything. I don't know much of my brother, but... I know he suffered under the same curse as I did. Father's little you'll die alone and unloved. I'd imagine he heard it every night. It's just... nice to see how wrong father was about us both." And there is the Earl's arrogant smirk again.

"Yeah, yeah it is." and I've said all that needs to be said.

Stars hide your fires
For these here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so I will be found
With my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul

And you, you've gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine

The fruit of 16 hours on the road. Originally the first half of the following chapter, but this grew into a chapter of it's own.
The lyrics are from Roll Away Your Stone by Mumford and Sons, at the tumblr link in my profile.
The following chapter will mention a part of the Wind in the Willows, which is also at my tumblr.
It is such a beautiful story, read it.