A Helping Hand

Emily grunted (inasmuch as she could) as she scooped up Jindosh, hefting him onto her shoulder. Ugh. For a skinny guy, he's heavy. Father always made this look so easy…

She took off at a weighty jog back towards the entrance. The hope was that the clockwork soldier standing in the hallway wouldn't go off unless she did anything aggressive towards it.

That hope was promptly dashed.

"This message plays if the machine detects my own dead body. Mmhahaha!" Jindosh's voice echoed from the clockwork soldier. It started clunking towards her, blades readying themselves, as two more machines emerged from alcoves in the walls.

Did you really not teach these things the difference between asleep and dead—You know what? This seems like a wonderful time to be not here.

And fortunately, Emily had no reason to stay. She grappled and pulled herself and towards the door, making a break for the exit with a trio of machines clanking after her. Also fortunately, no clockworks had been deployed at the door when the alarm had been raised (which is what she would have done). She was able to barge the door open and run out, accidentally banging Jindosh's head on the doorframe, then hurry down the steps to the exit car…

Ah, shit.

"Oh, hello there little Kaldwin!" Called out a woman in a particularly hideous torn dress. There were three of them; one with brown hair, one red, one blonde. All looked like they tried to dress cottage-core using three different people's wardrobes, then fell into the Wrenhaven and had to crawl through the sludge to get out. It wasn't a good look. But they were flanking the cart that was her only safe way out…and one had a sword to the sleeping Sokolov's neck.

And why do people keep calling me little? I'm five-ten!

"Fancy seeing you here!" Called another of the women, the brunette, leant against the railing of the path. "You know, we were planning on meeting you down at the bottom, but you just took so long, so we decided to come up and see you."

Oh. How nice. Emily smiled behind her mask, and waved with her free hand.

"Yes, hello!" Giggled the brunette one. "Aw, look at her try to communicate without her tongue! Like a little doggy that's learned 'paw'."

You go down first. Emily let her face fall in mock upset, while still moving towards them. In her peripheral vision, she was cataloguing the terrain; the path was only two metres wide, with a long drop on one side and the mansion on the other. A metal and glass gazebo-roof-thing covered the tracks. Limited options for advanced mobility, I've got two useless meatbags to keep track of…

"You've taken something rather important to Empress Delilah, little Kaldwin." Said the blonde woman, moving her wicked-looking blade closer to Sokolov's throat. The old man stirred, briefly. "I'd like you to give it back."

"Psst, um, are we really threatening some old dude to do this?" stage-whispered the red-head.

"Yes." The brunette said, sighing. "For goodness sake, girl—"

"I'm just saying, it feels kinda nasty." The red-head bit her lip. "And this is Emily Kaldwin, I don't really want to fight her. We could maybe do a hostage exchange, or—"

"Shut it." Snapped the blonde, before looking at Emily. "You. Give the inventor back."

Emily blinked in surprise, then pointed a finger to Jindosh.

"Yes. Him." The woman glared. "Drop him. Or the old man ends up a head shorter."

"The machine is using significant processing power to analyse allies, enemies, and non-combatants. This should be fun to watch, at least…" Jindosh's staticky voice accompanied the clanking of clockwork feet coming through the door behind them all.

Aaaaaaaalright then. We're doing this.

Emily looked to the woman, smiled, and made the 'OK' sign.

And then tossed Jindosh off the edge.

The red-headed girl swore and vanished in a blur, as Emily's other hand launched a tendril that snagged the sword of the one threatening Sokolov, yanking it towards herself.

She caught it just in time to parry a swipe from the brunette witch (at this point, she felt safe calling them witches), drawing her own sword with her now-free hand to slash at the enemy's stomach.

The brunette disappeared, and Emily tracked her reappearing further away, but she didn't have time to stop and think because the blonde had just summoned a big green tentacle in the middle of the floor and the first of the clockworks was approaching and—

Fuck, I've missed this!

Emily flung the witch's sword at the green thing and clicked her fingers at the blonde before diving into a roll to avoid the blade of the first clockwork, then grappled the scaffolding above the tracks to pull herself closer, and the sword hit near the stump of the green thing and made it spasm, even as the blonde cried out as her shadow stomped on the back of her leg, just in time for Emily to drop atop her and—

Get kicked aside by an appearing brunette, crashing back against the wall with a gasp, so Emily manifested a doppelganger that swung at the brunette, then attacked the blonde herself, then grappled Sokolov, jerking the poor old man rather rapidly into her arms, then ducked another swipe from the blonde before lashing out with a kick at her already wounded leg, making her scream and teleport away.

Emily grappled up to the roof above the car and laid Sokolov down, just in time for brunette to teleport up to her even as red-head appeared below, laying an uninjured Jindosh against the side of the wall, and then the lead clockwork jumped up onto the metal roof, making the whole thing buckle under its weight.

Emily narrowed her eyes. Right hand drew and fired her pistol at the clockwork's chest, barely making it stagger, left hand domino'd brunette, then she ran and slid under the clockwork's retaliatory stabs, all four blades burying themselves in the metal as she slid by, one grazing her cheek, before the roof was gone and the ground was two metres beneath her—as was her own doppelganger.

She domino'd the doppleganger, then twisted as she fell, grappling the head of the clockwork and pulling it backwards off the roof—

Emily landed atop her own doppelganger, slamming her boots into its head and slamming it into the floor. Blondie looked at her in confusion as the clone vanished (brunette, atop the roof, also stiffened and collapsed) but Emily drew her sword and thrust it, making blondie back up, before turning to stab her blade deep into the guts of the clockwork as it crashed onto its back beside her.

The rending noises that came from that were promising. Not promising was the fact that her sword got stuck, right as red-head opened her palm and hurled a fistful of shrieking projectiles at Emily, and the other two clockworks approached.

Emily jerked to the side, one of the projectiles digging into her shoulder and hurting like a bitch, but she didn't have time to be hurt, she had to fight, so she summoned another two shadow clones next to the other clockworks to keep them occupied and yanked the bolt out of her shoulder, turned and threw it at blondie, caught the injured woman's other leg.

Emily lashed out with a back kick, caught red-head in the chest before she could stab, then grappled for blondie, pulling them both together so that Emily could headbutt her in the nose, knee her between the legs, and throw her to the floor (two down)—

Saw stars, as red-head appeared next to her and kicked her in the side of the head. Emily crashed to the floor, used grapple to rapidly pull herself to the ceiling and away from the follow-up stab, summoned another doppelganger to deal with her before grappling out into the open walkway, but that put her in range of a swing from one of the clockworks as she saw her other clones being slaughtered by the machines, and her head was throbbing, she was running out of mana, so she launched one last grapple up the wall of the house, pulling herself as high as she could out of range of the violence so she could snatch a vial of Addermire solution from her belt, popping the cap and putting it to her mouth—

And red-head teleported above her and swung her blade, severing the tendril.

Emily was suddenly in free-fall, spluttering on Addermire solution, and she didn't have the mana for another tendril—

She hit the ground. Hard. Gasped, but forced herself to scramble to her feet, ducking the swing of the first clockwork, necking the rest of the potion with one hand. With the other—

Sword? No sword. Pistol? Pistol has no ammo, reload it—SECOND CLOCKWORK!

Emily threw herself into a twirling dance, swerving between the four-armed razor-fest that was the soldier, just barely managing to avoid all the blades without being beheaded.

She leapt away, feeling her magic return and spotting her swo—

The other clockwork soldier severed her right arm at the shoulder.

Sokolov blinked and groaned, the sounds of clunking feet and clashing steel ringing in his ears.

What in the name of…

He forced his eyes open. Just in time to watch one of the mechanical monstrosities swing its blade up into the sky, and cut right through Emily's limb as it did so.

At first, it didn't quite register what had happened. His eyes tracked the limb as it went flying up into the air, blood spurting from the end of it.

It landed on the roof next to him, fingers briefly twitching.

Then it registered.

Sokolov retched, body spasming. He was barely able to prop himself up on one arm, as his body did its best to empty its stomach over the glass and metal beneath him. Fortunately, there was little to empty. With the condition he'd been kept in, all that came out was a few drips of stomach acid, and what might have been the bread he was given two days ago.

No, damn it, focus, old man! You've done worse to others! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and pay attention!

He forced himself to look up, and see what had happened.

Emily did not scream. Because of course, she could not scream.

Instead, she had stiffened, and collapsed against the railing. Blood was still regularly spurting from the stump of her right arm.

"This playback indicates the machine thinks it has defeated a target, but isn't sure if it's killed it." Jindosh's voice emerged from the clockwork with the bloodied blade. "Current model should leave it for retrieval, so I can see what state prompted this reaction. Note to self, remove before production…"

A different woman appeared on the roof next to Sokolov, and winced. "Oh, Void, that's not—Okay, I think I might puke, I didn't plan to—"

Sokolov felt his heart plummet. No…Emily, please, if you were going to die saving me, you should have left me here!

The blood emerging from Emily's shoulder…stopped. Sokolov's first thought was that this meant her heart had given up, but the scientist inside him pointed out that that shouldn't have happened this early. Then he saw her left hand clench into a fist, a glowing eldritch mark appearing above the skin. She reached out and grasped the railing.

"Aaand this one plays if a presumed defeated target isn't. Machine should be finishing it's job now." The clockwork reached up one of its arms and swung downwards.

Sokolov…struggled to see what happened next. Or perhaps, his mind just struggled to understand it. Emily twisted around to face the clockwork, her face a rictus of pain and hatred and rage. Something spurted out of her right shoulder, but it wasn't blood. It was black; viscous, smoking, and it clung to the wound, growing and spreading outwards.

The clockwork's swing should have cut Emily in two. Instead, it was caught by a shadowy claw.

The servos inside the machine strained, as its limb was unable to make headway. It made to attack with the other three—

And Emily's form dissolved completely into smoke. The darkness surged forwards, wrapping around the clockwork entirely…then tearing its head off.

"What…the…fuck?" Whispered the woman beside Sokolov.

The black beast turned at the noise. It looked like nothing besides the most hideous depiction of evil Sokolov had ever seen. Four spindly, skeletal black limbs, a twisted, form-defying body, and a head full of sharp, gnashing teeth. Shadows nearby seemed to bend towards it, black smoke swirled around it, and black ooze dripped from its mouth and limbs.

And this could scream. It opened its mouth, and what emerged sounded like the screeching of rats, the howling of wolves, the buzzing of flies and the screams of dying men all at once. The cacophony forced Sokolov to clap his arms over his ears, but he couldn't tear his eyes away, even as the clockwork soldier just sort of crumpled in the embrace of the shadow monster.

"Emily…" Sokolov muttered to himself. "How long have you been holding this inside yourself…"

"Switching to alternative combat mode." The other clockwork glowed, then emit a blast of electricity, but the monster was already gone, slithering away as the lightning hit the carcass of the obliterated robot. The last remaining machine turned to try and track the beast, but couldn't charge up another bolt before—

The monster hit the machine, screaming again, as its head and all four of its limbs tore into the metal and wood with reckless abandon. In less than five seconds, the clockwork was utterly torn apart.

Then it turned its head to the woman.

She gasped, and vanished, reappearing clinging to a window halfway up the house. It didn't help. The monster practically slid up the wall after her, snatching onto her leg before she could vanish again and yanking her off the wall. She hit the ground with a scream and a crack, and Sokolov didn't have to be a doctor to know that something inside her torso was very broken. The monster landed next to her and grabbed her by the head, lifting her a full metre off the ground.

"NO!" The woman begged. "PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO—"

"Emily!" Sokolov shouted. That attracted its attention. It turned its head, focusing on him, even as the woman thrashed in its grip.

"Please!" Sokolov begged. "If you're still there, it's…it's time to stop!"

The monster stood there, staring at him, for what felt like far longer than four seconds.

Then it turned back to the woman.

Something happened to her head in its grip, and she sagged, falling completely unconscious. It tossed her to the ground behind it, then just stood there, body heaving.

After a moment, the smoke began to dissipate, drifting away, and the shadows clinging to the monster relented their grip.

Left standing in its place was Emily Kaldwin, looking out into the distant sunset. Her expression was dead, her eyes dull, but she otherwise looked exactly as she had before transforming. Except, of course, for her right arm. The limb (which was still laying on the roof beside Sokolov) had been replaced by a skeletal black imitation, with long, spindly fingers that ended in claws.

Almost a minute passed before she turned back to Sokolov, and quickly blurred up to his position.

"Emily…" He asked. "Are…are you alright?"

Emily shook her head. Then put an arm underneath his, hauling him up into a fireman's carry. She looked down, eyes locking onto her own arm, and her face twitched. Then she wound up and kicked it, sending it off the cliff into the valley below.

Teague Martin collapsed to the floor, blood dripping from his leg, and tried to work out how exactly things had gone so wrong.

The attack on Dunwall Tower had been troubled from the start. With most of the citizens evacuated, the surrounding city streets had been turned into a barren wasteland, decaying far faster than the time should have allowed. The roads leading to the tower had been overrun with wild creatures; dogs and rats, not to mention the plants that released noxious fumes when cut down. And of course, there had been the witches themselves. Darting across the rooftops, firing projectiles into the soldiers' ranks and vanishing before the retaliatory hail of bullets could hit them. Their main objective had seemingly been sewing as much chaos as possible; targeting whale oil stores, key figures, and the troops' morale. Martin himself had come close to death more than once.

Guerrilla warfare. Havelock liked to go on about it. A good way for small groups to 'win' against much larger forces…but it only works if they don't have any key locations to defend.

So he had pushed through, rallying the soldiers and Overseers, and pushed up into the tower. The plan with the cannons had worked, and they had blown their way through the main gate and onto the grounds. The gardens, then the waterlock, the entry hall, and the entirety of the main two floors of the tower had fallen under their control.

But they'd been harried every step of the way. Many good men and women had fallen, either to the constant probing attacks of the witches, or to the clockwork soldiers positioned in key hallways to prevent them being easily surrounded and overwhelmed. Combine that with the things they'd seen as they pushed deeper and deeper into the witches' den, and the small army that had been amassed had looked ready to break at any moment. Restoring power, and establishing a constant background of the (admittedly headache inducing) Overseer music, had only done so much to restore morale.

Then there was the matter of the lift. Delilah still had yet to be seen, and less than ten witches had been killed or captured throughout the assault. They were surely all holed up in the throne room, and the throne room was inaccessible without leaving them in a brutal bottleneck.

Or, so he had thought.

Until a certain piece of paper had found its way onto his desk just before the attack started.

Recognising the handwriting on that letter had brought Martin more hope than he'd felt in a long time. A feeling only intensified by the information contained within. That there was another way up to the throne room…and it was one that Delilah might not know about.

Once the main floors were secure, Martin took a group of his best men and led them to the back corner of the tower. There, he twisted one of the oil lamps, causing the back of a fireplace behind it to slide away. Revealed behind was a hidden chamber.

It was awkward, to say the least, to move almost twenty men and their equipment through the crawl-space. But once through, the room opened up, revealing a staircase leading behind the walls and into the living quarters on the highest floor of the tower.

They'd found Delilah, talking with some of her coven in the throne room. From the conversation, it had sounded like a counterattack was about to begin, but the force Teague had brought was hardly designed for stealthy eavesdropping. Their strategy had been simple: Shock, awe, and righteousness.

A collection of grenades had been lit simultaneously, and hurled into the throne room as the men who'd brought music boxes had started playing. The witches were rendered disoriented, and unable to teleport themselves away from the barrage of explosions that rent most of them into pieces. The squadron had charged in and engaged in a brief scuffle with the survivors, as well as others that entered upon hearing the noise. Martin himself put a bullet through the torso of one of the witches, who missed a traversal power and got caught on the fringe of the music's range. She looked like nothing more than a frightened girl as she bled out on the carpet.

But Martin had looked to the frozen statue of Corvo Attano and hardened his heart. There was no room to give quarter, not here.

Delilah herself was the greatest obstacle, of course. Stories of the woman's invincibility seemed true. Even under the effects of the music, she seemed mostly unaffected by the explosions and firearms employed against her. But they were prepared for this. Among the tools brought up by the Overseers were weighted iron nets, and here they were employed, thrown atop the recovering witch to restrain her. Delilah was impaled, repeatedly, and then borne to the ground by four of the men.

With the room secure and the music boxes playing, it had seemed like they were finally poised for victory.

And that was exactly when things had gone so wrong.

"After sparrows three times call,

After gull does three times fall,

Come, mistress, mouse and hen,

Come fisher, frog and wren…"

Martin's face had gone slack, his head darting around for the source of the voice as his mouth formed the name "Emily..?"

And then Delilah had vanished from underneath her captors. And the screaming had started.

Emily's magical singing. He now thought, yanking the shard of black stone out of his leg and staggering to his feet. She could drown out the effects of our music. It stands to reason that another witch might be able to copy the technique.

But Emily escaped, didn't she? How have they managed to steal her voice?

Screams echoed throughout the hall. Beside him, a wave of magic blasted through the room, and one of his fellow Overseers was caught in it, frozen into a statue.

Martin snarled, reloaded his pistol, and turned to fire it.

Delilah caught the bullet in her hand. Not in any particularly magical way; she was less than a foot away, and the projectile tore a grisly hole through her palm, forearm, and the back of her elbow. She hissed in pain, but it didn't stop her reaching forwards with that same hand and plucking the pistol out of his hand.

He moved to draw his sword—and she grabbed him by the throat.

"You know, this is a rather hypocritical rebellion, isn't it?" She said, casually. "Given that—" A line of blood dribbled from her mouth, and she frowned. "Excuse me one moment."

Struggling, Martin looked down, and noticed that Delilah still had about four swords stabbed through her midriff. She grunted and tore one of them out, continuing, "I mean, given that your religion is hunting me down for witchcraft. The previous—ngh—" another sword was removed, and tossed casually to the floor, "Empress was a witch too, unless my memory has suddenly forsaken me. So why do you object to me?"

Monster. Was all Teague Martin could think, witnessing the grisly sight. This is what a true monster looks like.

"You…and Emily…both took Dunwall at gunpoint." He choked out. "But do you want to know the difference?"

Delilah removed another sword, then tilted her head. The room around them had gone very quiet, except for the continued singing of Emily's voice.

"Go on?" She prompted, her grip relaxing somewhat.

"You took Dunwall by force. Slaughtered those in your way." Martin smiled. "Emily gave us the gun. This story rarely gets told, but there was a moment when us Loyalists almost turned fully against her. She could have used her powers to kill us, restrain us, make us obey. But she didn't. She let us hold her at the tip of a pistol, and told us that her life was in our hands. She understood that force wasn't the answer."

His eyebrows narrowed. "That's why the Abbey allowed Emily's rule, even if many within protested. Because she never once turned her power on her own people. She was our servant, as much as our Empress. But you…" his fists tightened. "You ripped Dunwall Tower from its rightful ruler."

"I am the rightful ruler." Delilah snarled.

"And you did nothing but declare such, and hole yourself away up here." He spat. "Why should your people love you if you do not even address them? Why should they obey you if you murder everyone who opposes you? Declaring yourself Empress, and killing everyone who disagrees, is Not. Ruling."

Delilah slowly pulled out the last sword from herself, and this one she kept in her hand. She was looking at him rather curiously.

"I see…" She mused. "So that's what's going on inside your little heads…well, thank you for letting me know."

"Empress." A witch appeared next to them, bowing. "The counterattack is underway; all remaining fighters and clockworks have been deployed. Without their music, the enemies are being routed."

"Excellent. Kill them all, unless you have any particular desire for live ones." Delilah replied, smiling, and the witch vanished.

"Now, what were you saying…right! Ruling!" She tapped the sword against her forehead and rolled her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. This Empire is mine, but I'm all for it if there's ways to get you under control just by talking. I'll admit, I'm sort of hoping that the massacre of your entire army here will dissuade future attempts on my life. They're getting rather infuriating."

"You're insane." Martin breathed.

"Nooo, I spent a decade inside a tree in the middle of the fucking Void, and it didn't make me crazy." Delilah tch'd. "You, however, seem to have a remarkably good head on your shoulders."

She smiled. "Mind if I take it off?"

Martin closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Emily." He uttered.

There was a flash of pain, and then nothing.

"I see them!" Thomas called, spyglass to his eye. "Boat's coming in!"

"Does she have Sokolov?" Billie (it was still strange to think of her as Billie) asked, walking up beside him.

Thomas squinted as the boat grew closer. "She…does! Uh, but he's not alone. I think…yep. She has Jindosh."

"Jindosh?" Billie snatched for the spyglass, but Thomas held it out of her reach. "She wasn't meant to kidnap him!"

"This is the sort of thing she does, you get used to it."

"We have to feed him now!"

From behind them both came a rasped "What menagerie have you dragged me into, Billie?"

Thomas glanced back to see Daud, sat on a chair on the Wale's deck, watching them. "Might have escaped your notice, big guy, but you're not in a pen anymore."

"That so? What happens if I try to leave?"

Meagan—Billie reached again for the spyglass, and again Thomas pulled it out of her reach.

"Are they alright?" She pressed, voice tense. The concern the woman harboured for Sokolov was obvious. Thomas sighed, putting the tool to his eye again as the skiff grew closer. "They seem okay. Sokolov…well, he looks like shit, but I don't know what you were expecting. I think I can see his chest moving. Jindosh I don't care, Emily…" His eyes widened. "Oh no. Emily!"

He tossed the spyglass to Billie before she could even ask what was wrong, and jumped.

The skiff was close enough now that his magic enhanced leap took him all the way to it, and he landed with a particularly loud crash on the prow, sending a powerful wave out and almost tipping the entire thing over.

Emily looked up at him.

"What the fuck happened to you?" He demanded, reaching for her arm.

She flinched away, briefly, but it was too half-hearted a motion to stop him taking hold of the grisly, shadowy limb.

It was cold to the touch, and felt like nothing besides a dry bone shrouded in thick black smoke. Black-blue fibres that resembled her tendrils connected the bones together, and linked it to the small stump of remaining arm on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked, trying to meet her eye.

She tilted her head to look past him, bringing the skiff to a stop just beside the Wale.

"Emily, I swear to the Void—"

'I'm fine.' She signed, standing.

"What do you—is it permanent?"

'Take them.' She gestured to Jindosh and Sokolov, and grappled up to the deck.

"Oh don't you dare—Emily! Don't do this to me!" He shouted. But she was already gone. He swore, loudly and repeatedly, and moved to scoop up Sokolov.

Emily was quick to take stock of the situation on the top deck. Meagan, barely glancing at her before rushing to help Thomas with Sokolov. Daud…

Daud.

Her stomach seized up, and her skeletal hand clenched into a fist.

"Hello, Emily." The Knife of Dunwall said, slumped in an armchair. "It's been a long time. I certainly never expected us to meet again."

Murdererkillerbastardliarkilledmotherhekilledmother —

Emily's heart was pounding. She'd been preparing for this, ever since the Outsider had last contacted her. But it was a different thing to know she was searching for Daud, and quite another to actually confront him.

It felt like she was ten years old again. Staring at him in the Flooded District, Corvo beside her, the great statue of her mother looming over them all.

She'd let him go, then. And now she'd brought him back.

"They've told me about your condition." Daud said, scrutinising her. "I'm sorry. Dealing with Delilah was my business. Should have made sure it was done properly."

Emily forced herself to raise her arms, and sign 'You know Delilah?' (The sign they were using for Delilah was just the one for 'whore').

"Billie didn't tell you? Corvo didn't?" Daud tilted his head, then chuckled. "Some Lord Protector."

Emily's pistol was in her hand and pointed at his chest before her anger had even registered in her conscious mind.

"Don't, princess." Meagan warned, appearing in Emily's periphery from the door to the ship. "You don't even know what the Outsider wants him for yet."

Which was a very good point. Emily slowly holstered the gun. Then spelled out 'Billie?'

Daud looked at Meagan.

Meagan grimaced.

"That's me." She said, quietly. "I…should have said this before I went after him, but…my real name's Billie Lurk."

Emily recognised it. She'd memorised the name of every Whaler the watch had ever known about.

…Huh. Well, that's one explanation.

She rounded on Billie.

The crippled woman looked away from Emily's stare, backing up towards the side of the ship. "I…left, not long before you came to stop us. Sokolov knows, you can ask him when he wakes. I'm trying to—"

'Liar.' Emily signed.

"Only by omission." Billie protested. "I'm still on your side. We still need to stop Delilah, and—"

'Were you there?' Emily cut across her.

Billie swallowed. "At Dunwall Tower?"

Emily remained perfectly still.

"…I was the one who grabbed the Empress." Billie answered, after a long moment. "The one you…tried to stab."

The one who blinked away so that I would kill my own mother.

Emily took a second to process that.

Then surged forwards, grabbing Billie by the throat with her skeletal arm and hauling her into the air over the edge of the ship.

"Emily!" Shouted Thomas, somewhere in the distance, and—

"I'm…sorry." Billie choked out. "I've…done so much, I wish I hadn't—"

But that won't bring her back, will it? Emily tightened her grip.

"That's enough, Kaldwin."

She turned her head to see that Daud was now standing, and giving her a dangerous look. "I understand hating me. Don't take it out on her."

'Or?' Emily signed with her other hand.

"Or I'll stop you." Daud responded, just as calmly. The mark on his own hand flared in the darkness.

There was a click, and Thomas was pointing a gun at his head. "Touch Emily and die, I've said this already."

"You think a gun'll stop me, boy?" The assassin asked, not even looking at him.

"The gun's symbolic. Your obstacle is me. Sit back down."

"Don't!" Billie gasped. "Please! Do what you want to me, but leave him alone!"

Oh? Emily turned back to her. Afraid to lose a father figure, Billie Lurk? Would you like to know what that feels like?

Billie's eyes widened, panic evolving for the first time into genuine fear, Daud shifted his stance, Emily's mark started to burn to mirror his, Thomas tightened his grip on his weapon—

"Oh, can you all shut up already?"

Everyone turned to look at the doorway into the ship.

Sokolov was sagged against the doorframe, visibly shaking, but on his feet. His expression, however, was one of unrestrained annoyance.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm in a ruddy awful state down there!" He snapped. "How am I supposed to recover while you're all yapping up here!"

"Uh, Sokolov." Thomas prompted. "We're kind of busy right n—"

"You have clearly not grown up a day since we first met." Sokolov cut right across him.

He looked at Daud "You, I don't care," then at Emily and Billie, "and you two know better than this. Stop feeling sorry for yourselves and stop acting like children! Honestly…"

He shook his head and went back inside, met promptly by the outraged complaints of one Doctor Hypatia.

Emily and Billie exchanged guilty looks, before the former put the latter down, brushing off her shoulders.

Thomas slowly lowered his weapon, and Daud went back to his chair.

"…Dinner's almost ready." Billie said, weakly. "Hagfish sound good?"

I am not a good person. I understand this now.

Emily's not getting that arm back. Normal people may mean nothing to her at this point, but witches can still pose a serious threat, especially if she doesn't have surprise on her side.

Billie's outed, a lot sooner than canon, and Sokolov's back! Gotta love Sokolov. He's great. And F's in chat for Teague. Sorry my man, but you had to die so Delilah could have more screen time. Life's a bitch.

Review!