Author's Note: Hey everyone! I am deeply sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I left that last one on an interesting note, didn't I? But as the chapter will surely show you, not everything is what it seems. And I hope it was worth the wait. I really tried to make it so...

It's been hard trying to write lately, and it's gonna be like that for a while. Hopefully I can get on the ball a little bit faster so that I'm not leaving you guys hanging. But I am looking at getting an apartment here soon, so I'm gonna be saving up to do that. And that means I'll have to go through all of my stuff and downsize everything. It's a big step in growing up that I'm both looking forward to and dreading. O_O

Anyway...thanks to those of you who have been waiting patiently and have been keeping tabs on this story! I really appreciate it, you have no idea! And thanks to reviewers linalove, Makrciana, Callie, and Um-xox. You are awesome and deserve the biggest hugs that any one person could give...but this is the internet. I hope virtual giant hugs will suffice for now.

Enjoy this long awaited chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own From Hell.


Chapter Seven

Frederick felt the cot shake roughly, which woke him from his troubled sleep. As he opened his eyes, he saw, instead of cozy bedroom, the oriental designs of a familiar opium den. Slowly sitting up, the inspector rubbed his temples.

It was only a dream? he wondered.

He looked up to see a very unhappy Godley. With a stern look, the sergeant said, "You better have a really good excuse for not being there."

For a moment, Fred was confused. He wasn't sure what his friend was talking about. "Being where?" he asked.

"Today is the fourth, inspector," Godley replied. "I'll let that sink in, and that should answer your question."

Abberline almost commented on how vague the sergeant was being, but the date did in fact sink in and answer his question. At this realization, Fred put his head in his hand.

"Oh no…"

"Oh yes," Godley reiterated. "You missed the memorial."

"And the burial?"

"No, you haven't missed that. If you hurry now, you'll just make it."

Hearing that made Frederick jump off the cot with his coat in hand. He quickly paid the den keeper and practically ran into the carriage. Godley told the driver the address and they were off.

The sergeant looked to his friend and grimaced. "You look bloody awful."

Frederick sighed. "Do I?" he asked.

"You better do something quickly. What would Lucy think?"

Fred groaned. The situation was bad enough with having missed the memorial. But when Godley mentioned Lucy, it made it worse. Not only did he have to worry about her reprimanding him for missing the service, he'd have to worry about not acting on the feelings left from his latest dream.

But was it just a dream? Or was it a vision?

He pondered the thought as the carriage continued its journey to the cemetery. With the handkerchief that Godley provided him, he was able to clean up his face. He straightened his shirt and waistcoat, and re-tied his neck tie. By the time they arrived, he looked presentable enough to join the others for the burial. They climbed out of the carriage, Godley paid the driver, and they made their way towards the crowd now gathered next to the burial site. Frederick's eyes scanned the crowd until he found who he was looking for. Quickening his pace, he headed straight for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw her dear friend coming to join them. Turning, she gave him the best smile that she could, given the circumstances. He smiled back and embraced her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said.

As they let go, she shook her head. "It's alright. You came. That's all that matters."

The two of them turned back towards the preacher, who was in the middle of a small sermon in honor of her brother. As they began lowering the casket into the ground, Frederick couldn't help but feel a wave of déjà vu come over him. He watched Lucy put a white rose on George's coffin and then walk away. When he saw her suddenly stop in front of him, her eyes wide with anger, the inspector knew who was walking towards them. At least, he thought he knew.

"Lucy, I am so sorry," said a familiar voice. Fred turned his head to see who it was.

As expected, it was Withers.

"What are you doing here?" Lucy asked.

"I came to offer my condolences," he said, offering her a small bouquet of snowbells. "George was a good friend of mine, after all."

Hesitantly, she took the flowers from him. "Snowbells?"

"Yeah, I...I remembered that they were your favorite."

A small smile formed on her lips. "Thank you, Jeremiah."

"Lucy," Withers began. "I wanted to apologize, for what happened all those years ago."

"Jeremiah, please," Lucy begged. "Not now."

"I mean it, Luce. You didn't deserve that. I was a fool and I realize that. And I don't blame you for hating me for it."

She shook her head. "This isn't the time or place."

"I want to try it again. I…I want to marry you, Lucy. I know that I can be a good husband. I'll try hard…very hard at it."

Lucy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Neither could Frederick. His visions were never this accurate, which astounded him. He looked to his friend, whom he noticed getting angrier by the second. Tears were streaking down her face, her eyes were redder now, and her form was shaking.

"Withers," he warned.

"We can get our own little cottage in the country," Withers continued, ignoring Abberline. "And we can have a family. I will take care of—"

He was cut off when Lucy slapped him. She slapped him so hard that he was facing the inspector. She was furious.

"How dare you," she said. "If you think for one moment, that I would ever, ever let you back into my life—that I would want to marry you—after everything you put me through, then you have some nerve, Jeremiah. The fact that you thought telling me you still want a marriage at my own brother's funeral makes it even more clear to me that we are not a match and never will be. Especially if you thought that would assuage your guilt!"

By now, the Godleys had been watching, listening very keenly on what their cousin was saying. Peter looked as though he wanted to throttle the officer.

"Lucy, please," Withers pleaded.

"No. I will never forgive you. For this, or for what happened years ago. Never." With that, she picked up her skirts and pushed passed him. When she was a good twenty paces away from him, Lucy turned back towards him and added, "Goodbye, Jeremiah Withers. I never want to see you again."

Frederick looked at Withers with disgust, and then began following Lucy. When he caught up to her, he gently grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her into an embrace. She tried to struggle against him, but her resolve waivered and she let him. She began sobbing even more than she had before, letting her only true friend hold her and comfort her.

"Shh," Fred whispered. "It's ok. It's over now. Shh…"

Lucy continued to sob. Besides Fred and the Godleys, she had no family left. And the inspector realized that as well. He continued to embrace her until her cousins joined them.

"Oh, Lucy, dear," Helen cooed. "Let's get you home. I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

With that, the four of them made their way to an awaiting carriage and journeyed home.

xxx

-Three Days Later-

Lucy sat at the piano in her room, her fingers barely caressing the keys. It was the evening, and all of the chores were done, so she was free to do as she liked. Helen had told her several times that she didn't need to keep up with the work—that she needed time to grieve. But she hadn't wanted to. She wanted to keep living her life as if nothing had ever happened. She didn't want to live in fear that she would be next to die.

Then why is it so hard to be brave? she wondered.

She had told Frederick, Peter, and Helen about her history with Withers—about his affair and calling off the engagement. They said it would make her feel better to talk about it. But it didn't. It never really did.

Without really thinking about it, she put both hands on the keys and began slowly pressing out a melody from the dusty keys. She was surprised to hear that the piano was tuned, as if it had never been used in the first place. But play she did, despite her broken heart. She played on, not really caring if she could possibly wake someone or if it bothered anyone. She played as if she was the only person in the world. Lucy played on, never hearing someone enter the room.

"When did you learn to play?"

Lucy banged on the keys when she heard the startling voice. She turned to see that Frederick had entered and was standing behind her, watching and listening.

"Fred!" she exclaimed. "A gentleman usually knocks before entering a ladies room."

"I did knock," he argued.

"You did? I didn't hear you."

"I can see that. I didn't think anyone would be able to break your concentration, but I was wrong."

"What do you want?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing in particular," he said. "We could hear you down in the parlor."

Blushing with embarrassment, she looked down at her hands. "Oh."

"We were hoping that you were going to join us downstairs, when you were ready, that is."

Getting up from the bench, she looked at her friend. "Then why didn't you stay downstairs."

"Curiosity got the better of me."

"Curiosity killed the cat," she pointed out.

"I'm on my eighth life."

She managed a small smile at his joke.

"See?" Fred said, pointing at her. "That's the Lucy I know."

"If only I was still her."

"You still are," he reassured her. "You're still the Lucy I knew as a child. The only things that have changed are the thing happening to you."

"But why are they happening?" she asked. "Fred…why would someone want to murder George? I'm also beginning to suspect that the fire wasn't an accident either…the fire that killed my parents."

"We don't know that."

"But what if that's what happened? What if someone started that fire? Maybe…maybe it's the same person that killed George?"

Frederick put his hands on her shoulders. "Luce, I don't know if that's the case. The fire may be just another accident. As for your brother's killer, we will find him."

"But what if you can't?"

"Just trust me," he said. "Please. Trust me as you always did."

Lucy looked him in the eye. "I do trust you."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. I will figure this out."

She gave him a small smile and embraced him. "Fred…I'm terrified. What if the killer is coming for me?"

"I won't let that happen, Luce. I promise."

xxx

Wilfred Scott ran for his life. He ran through all of the alleys he could find cover in. Had he known that setting a few fires was going to be the same as signing his death certificate, he would have stayed at the mills. He was only doing his job; what he was getting paid to do.

I should have stayed in Oxfordshire, he thought.

He looked back to see if he was being followed. That was his first mistake, because the moment he looked forward, he found himself backed into a dead end. He panicked.

No no no no no no….no!

Hearing footsteps behind him made his heart nearly stop. Wilfred could breath, and he couldn't think. All he could do was stand paralyzed as his pursuer walked towards him, something shining in his hand.

"Please," Wilfred pleaded. "I have done everything that you wanted. Please, you don't have to do this."

But his pleas went unheard. His pursuer raised his arm high above his head, its shadow cast across his victim's head.

Wilfred's screams rang in the cold air of the foggy London night.


A/N: Thank you for taking time to read this! It does mean a lot to me!

Lucy does seem to be down on her luck, huh? Well, I guess it's just that Withers is a total dumbass, but hey! That's just my opinion...no offense to any Withers fans out there!

Please let me know how I did! Love it? Hate it? If you hate me because I took forever and never want to read anything of mine again, I understand. I'd be mad at me, too...wait...I kinda am. That being beside the point, the point being reviews, please click the most powerful button of them all-the button that could change the fate of the human race as we know it-the "Review" button and let me know your thoughts and feelings. You do not have to sell me your soul. Cross my hearts.

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