Ali didn't die. She was tender with every move she made and dreaded the next time she would be called to face another stupid girl in the arena but until then she tried to keep busy. For someone whose only income came from sporadic fighting, though, that meant either getting creative or finding ways of prolonging mundane tasks. Fetching bread alone could take her half way across Whitechapel just to pass the time.

"Alice!"

At the docks, taking her time to find a fishmonger, still unsure she would bother to buy any fish at all, remembering in pieces her day on the water with Drake, and gently pulling herself away from melancholy with each memory back to the task at hand… and then she heard her name called with such ferocity and demand that she stopped and looked around to find its source. Everyone was dressed in black and grey, moving amidst black and grey walls, cobbles and stalls, the overcast weather had sucked the colour from it all save one swiftly moving form. A girl. Young, with a veil of red hair in a dress so white it practically blinded amidst the blackened street.

She followed. She thought little on the matter - the voice was so harsh she feared the source would find the girl, the girl was so out of place she feared the blackness would swallow her - she conjured a hundred possibilities but none fit comfortably into the force which spurred her on. She ached and stung with injury but she smiled as she moved, keeping pace wight he girl, eventually following her exact path some four or five yards behind. Ali was reminded of her youth, running through crowded streets after strange children, playing until they ran too far for her to dare follow. She wasn't a girl anymore though, she could follow this girl as long as she liked. She had all the time in the world.

At last the girl slowed, and as though tethered to her by a steel bar, Ali slowed too. The girl took a seat and Ali walked by her mystery Alice to a vantage point that kept her blended with the scenery. Here it wasn't so black, but still grey as most cities are. A green coat caught her eye as it brought the girl some food, and still in the throws of her curiosity, Ali followed, allowing herself to imagine she was a ghost.

It all seemed so innocent: they red haired girl and the green coated boy looked to be testing the waters of adults in courtship and Ali's mind wandered through her past with her dead husband and Drake. How sweet it felt to allow emotion to wash over her, without the threat of it overpowering her with woe. She thought God had sent her a kindness in orchestrating this observation for her, giving her some peace and maybe closure on events she had forced herself to ignore the existence of.

And then he took her to the green door.

Ali's emotions severed, her fantasies dissolved and her muscles tensed as she moved forward to intervene. A group of running children collided with her and continued, which would normally have phased her body little, but in her current state she faltered to the floor in agony. Kind strangers helped her to rise and sit on the steps to another block of flats, but she could not catch her breath to demand the police.

How silly she had been to think God had brought her anything - God had abandoned her to Hell on Earth for her arrogance in thinking she could make her father's death matter to men. She wiped tears from her eyes mistaken for tears of pain which only ceased as Drake and Reid ran by her to the door the girl had been taken to. Relief flooded over Ali who found herself laughing. The kind strangers who had helped her were gone and she apologised to God for doubting His grace; the girl, at least, was watched over.

Ali stood to leave, feeling strong enough physically and emotionally to move after an age of sitting and thinking.

"I need a hobby." she said out loud, "Too much time to think in -"

The red head walked briskly past Ali, who looked back at the green door to see if Reid or Drake would appear for her to direct, but since they didn't, she resumed following the girl once more, in case more evil befell her.

Ali hesitated at the door of the house the red head at last settled in. After a dizzying navigation of streets into darkness, at last the girl stopped. Dare she go in? Wasn't her duty as temporary watcher over?

She was ghostlike in her silence as she cautiously opened the door and slipped inside. If nothing else she would have the identity of the girl within, she hoped. She listened carefully and determined the girl was upstairs, giving her the downstairs for a time. She tree carefully, looking at the decor, the furniture and the frames in search of a picture or a name.

She found photograph of a man and woman, their daughter at their feet. Ali held her breath as she recognised Edmund Reid.

She set the frame down to leave immediately but the front door opened. She moved away from the door to the hall and listened as he passed. She was resolved to depart and leave them to their privacy, and then she heard the music. It was so odd to hear. She hesitated and listened,

"Hello."

"Hello."

It was so pained. Ali's feet took her to the hall,

"I am Matilda."

Ali's interest was Torn by her awareness of her intrusion, but they way they both spoke, the things she realised in hearing them speak…

"Who am I, Matilda?"

"You are my daddy."

Ali gripped the railing to save herself from falling. She felt like she had just… broke. To save herself from making her presence known, she fled the house, but could not think of anywhere to go.