I don't own these characters, they own me. Toby Whithouse and the BBC own the playground.

Fair warning, dear reader. The beginning of the end draws night. Thanks to TangentiallyTJ, Whimsyfox and ShoePigeon for the extra help on this one.

The Wellcome Collection was quiet that morning, lacking in school trips or big groups, which Hal was grateful for. The exposition explored all manners of "Superhuman" from comic book to cyborg. Allison and Tom went to power through the exhibit, leaving Hal and Alex to flag behind. Alex noticed that Hal had a shifty, faraway look and wasn't really paying attention as they followed along. Finally, she took his hand and nodded towards a closed-off corridor. They slipped around the red velvet rope and stopped next to a temporary wall where another exhibit was being changed over. Hal calmed himself and finally looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time all morning.

"Here we are again," he stated, somewhat more relaxed. She leaned against the wall and smiled, tilting her chin up like she had done once before, but unlike before, he leaned in close and gave her the kiss she should have had when she was still alive. If she had chosen a normal, flesh-and-blood human to date, that is. Their kiss quickly flared though, and Hal pulled back to compose himself before she could incite him further.

"You still wantin' to do this?" She asked him, all seriousness. Coming here had already been an incredible strain on his nature, but in a few hours he would have to be in close proximity to other vampires. That hadn't worked out so well for either of them the last time.

"I am resigned to try," but even as he said it, his eyes flicked back to the hallway to watch a couple pass.

"Is there something you need to tell us?"

Hal's attention snapped back to her. "What makes you ask?"

"You're nervous. You're never nervous."

He sighed, "I fear I may have made a mistake in allowing them to come."

"Tom can look after himself though. And Allison's a tough cookie."

"If any of my kind were to spot them..." Hal dropped his hands into his coat pockets.

"That isn't all you're worried about though – is it?"

Hal reluctantly shook his head, "No."

"Will it help a'tall if you told us?"

"No," he gave a sad smile. "If Tom knew, he would want to be more involved than he already is. I cannot allow him to risk himself."

"You could be in danger then?"

"Right now, we all are."

"How could you lose them?" Castle had barely listened to the person on the line before berating them. "The 188… And you swear they weren't aware of being followed?" After a pause he yanked his phone away from his ear, disconnecting the call. "Imbeciles! Anything could happen on that bus," he shouted before adding with a sigh, "At least they'll be returning here soon."

Castle had been irritable all morning after receiving the instruction to pick up the abandoned surveillance at 16 Crucifix. But now that it seemed their case would be returning to them, he was even more agitated

Nave tried to console the young man with reason, "If Yorke wasn't set off by the Underground, then a bus should be safe, right?"

Castle gave a shrug but seemed to relax slightly. "You never know with these creatures, Mr. Nave, but one can hope," he said as he checked the 188 route map on his phone. "They will be approaching from that direction. We will wait."

It was nearly time to do what they came to London for.

The bus had been far less crowded, and therefore less of a strain than the Underground. Hal blatantly tried to avoid touching anything, which Alex teased him about in an attempt to lighten the mood. He was not amused, but Tom and Allison laughed mirthfully with her. After an uneventful return trip to the London Bridge area, the four friends made their way back to Crucifix Lane on foot. Hal started to slow and then turned to face them, stopping them under the Shand Street railway arch. Nearby, water dripped and the air had the timeless urban aroma of piss.

"Up ahead – second building from the end. PLEASE stay out of sight. I will approach the middle window on the top floor if I sense trouble before the allotted time. "

Tom followed Hal's eyes to a modest and clean white building. The stonework was old and worn, even though it was sandwiched next to a new, glassy office structure. It also happened to be directly next door to the Victorian exhibit that had Allison had stopped in front of that morning.

"We'll be ever vigilant," Allison assured.

But then, curious, Tom asked, "How'd you know their place would still be here?"

Hal's gaze shifted to discomfort, but he met Tom's eyes with a look of resignation. "Because… I own it," he admitted.

Tom furrowed his brow and cocked his head, trying to hide his surprise. There were centuries of things he would never know about his friend, but it still hurt. If Hal couldn't tell him that detail even when they were planning, Tom wondered just how many other things Hal had failed to mention. Tom heaved a sigh before clasping Hal's shoulders. "Just come back, alright?"

Hal, looking Tom in the eye with an unspoken promise, gave a curt nod. Tom let his friend go, but Hal was stopped by Alex. Reaching for his collar and pulling him to her, she leveled him with a serious stare before kissing him deeply. She didn't care one bit that their friends were watching. Everything she wanted to say and could say was in that kiss.

I care for you more than I wanted. You damn well better come back.

The lobby of the building was classic, ornate. The wall of smooth, dark marble was flanked by delicate white orchids in vases underneath an enormous painting that looked like fresh blood. At least, Hal hoped it was a painting. It had been, thankfully, a long time since he had been here. They had updated the finishes.

As he stepped towards the lift, Hal's jaw clenched, betraying his anxiety over what he was about to do. He took a steadying breath and mentally checked himself. The ridiculous palm tree mural from Honolulu Heights flashed before his eyes and he inwardly smiled. The house wasn't his anchor in this, but rather what it stood for. All he wanted now was peace, and the simple things: friendship, stability. Those things were worth fighting a battle for.

The elevator chimed pleasantly at the top floor and Hal closed his eyes, channeling the strength of his resolve. When he opened them to look on the polished plaque that had been in place for nearly a century, Hal slipped into "Lord Harry" like a suit.

The current receptionist at Turner and Yorke was an attractive young brunette who appeared newly turned. She greeted Hal professionally.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Good day. I am here to see Mr. Turner."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Always. Tell him it is Mr. Yorke."

"Mr... Yorke, sir?" The girl's hand gave a subtle flutter as she reached for the phone. Hal just casually looked at his watch, feigning impatience. The girl seemed to shake herself and then page the phone system.

"Sir? Mr. Yorke is here to see you... Yes sir." She looked to Hal. "Just a moment please."

The moment was short for they heard a heavy door open and Hal was greeted by the long-familiar face of his colleague. He was impeccably dressed with the eternal accoutrement of his snake charmer smile. With arms wide, he dropped into a half bow and rose with a glint in his eye. "Henry! You never call, you never write."

"Hello Richard." Hal returned the custom with merely a nod.

"I wasn't expecting you. Please, forgive the mess. Come, come!"

Hal couldn't see any such mess. The place was entirely tidy, even when Richard led them to his private office.

"Have a seat. May I offer you a drink?" Richard asked before sitting in the plush leather chair behind his desk. There was a very obvious carafe of Richard's brunch on the desk, next to a trim laptop and a few files, which Hal attempted to ignore. Instead, he focused on the window behind Richard, taking in the railway and the expanse of development beyond.

"Oh yes, of course. Forgive me. Something more civilized then? Sherry? I always do keep a bottle in case you decide to turn up."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Please, sit," Richard offered.

Hal would rather have remained standing, but knew he needed to set Richard at ease if this were to play out as planned.

Once Hal was seated, Richard continued, "I nearly thought you were proper dead this time. I had heard..."

"Oh?" Hal cocked an eyebrow haughtily, daring Richard to inform on his informer.

"Never mind. Obviously, they were mistaken. Are you returned then?" Richard asked with a flourish, changing the subject.

Hal shrugged nonchalantly. "London still holds no interest for me."

"So, you're not back then."

"No." Hal adjusted his mannerisms, exuding confidence. "Let us cut to the chase, shall we? I am here to talk business with you, Richard."

Richard narrowed his eyes, "You could have called. We would have made arrangements."

"I found it necessary not to inform in advance of my visit. In fact, it would be best if you can continue to assume you have not seen me." Hal accentuated the request, knowing full well that Richard had leaked his whereabouts to Snow.

"So you'll be remaining dead then? Again?" Richard asked, ignoring Hal's implied accusation.

Hal gave a nod in agreement. Perhaps Richard was still an ally – as much as a vampire could be anyway. Hal knew first-hand how persuasive Snow could be, after all. The entrepreneurial vampire could have been an Old One himself, but Snow had not forgiven the Parliament fiasco. When Richard had been thrown out of Bristol in 1641, found out in the midst of the political crisis of the time, he fled. He had remained in self-imposed exile from England until the turn of the last century. Richard had been running long-term investments for their kind on a smaller scale from French Polynesia at the time, but had heard of an opportunity in Western Europe. Seeking out Lord Harry for his proposal, he happened to catch him in one of his more generous moods. They had been in business together ever since. Richard was adept at knowing just when to buy and sell property – their own office being building being no exception. The market value of the neighborhood had grown exponentially since its purchase.

"I wish to sell my share of our holdings."

This time it was Richard's turn to cock an eyebrow. "Oh? Which ones? The Manor? Or - "

"All of them."

"Fuck's sake – Hal! You can't be serious."

"Deadly serious."

"But where will you go? What will you do?"

"That is my business. I want out, Richard." Hal sat back in his chair.

"But you can't just -"

Hal interrupted with a slight shake of his head, "I can."

"We're partners, Hal," Richard started, but at the strong look from Hal, changed tactics. "You know we can't come up with that kind of capital on the spot."

"You will have to treat me like one of your clients. Move the funds slowly." Hal gave a calculating tilt of his head, "You may keep the Bentley as compensation, along with the usual percentage." The last time they spoke, Richard had mentioned time was drawing nigh to sell it.

"I can't do that, Hal."

"No?" Hal's tone let him know he still held rank. "You state thus when I know very well you can?"

Richard's hands had been resting on the desk, but he started nervously playing with the small vase holding his pens. "I didn't believe it, at first. Not you. Not after all this time you had been away."

Here it comes... Hal thought, and tried not to brace himself.

"But then again, you always have been a loose cannon." Richard pulled free one of his pens, twirling it in his fingers like Hal his domino. Hal remained expressionless, even when Richard brought the reed pen to his lips and forcibly blew. The tiny dart hit Hal like a wasp sting to the neck. Calmly, he lifted an arm already flooding with heaviness to remove it.

"You can hardly expect to appear here without paying the consequences of your actions, dear friend. Just because we're in the middle of a regime change doesn't mean I can let you walk away. The opposite, actually." Richard stood from behind the desk, complacent at Hal's increasingly weakened attempts to move. "Mighty fascinating what they have in the Amazon, isn't it?"

Hal's vision split in two, his body sank into lead. Through the fast-acting poison, he couldn't even open his mouth to speak. As Richard approached him, gingerly plucking the dart from Hal's fingers, the edges of the room turned black. "We'll be seeing you on the other side, old chap." The afternoon light through the window was naught but a pinprick, haloed behind Richard. Then that too was gone. The blackness swallowed him whole.