Up From the Ashes: "Up From the Ashes," 11x01
George paced the hotel suite. "I have to let Miss Bloom know I'm still alive," he burst out. Graham knows that I'm fond of her, or at the very least, that we're friends. He was scared for her, and worried. My 'death' on top of Lydia's…He would not be the reason that someone else he cared for had their life ruined by Robert Graham's hand.
"When this is over-" Watts began.
"Why bother?"
George looked over to Franklin Williams, who was eyeing the constable with a taunting smirk. "She's already taken up with Graham," the city councilman told George.
"You watch your mouth!" George growled at him. He refused to believe it. Williams is trying to get to you, he told himself. Don't believe it. Not Nina.
"It's the truth," Williams informed him, seemingly enjoying the look of torment on George's face. "Last time I saw them together, she was all over him," he continued. He raised an eyebrow. "Brazen."
George registered Watts pushing himself off the doorframe, no doubt ready to rein George in if he got physical with Williams. It won't do any good to beat the man senseless, not when he's set to testify, George's conscience reminded him. Damn it.
"Well, if that's the case," George had a terrible thought. He looked at Watts urgently. "Then something's wrong. That's not her." He was halfway out of the room, barely registering Watt's warning of, "George, don't-" as he raced for the stairs. His heart was pounding. His chest heaved, and every step sent daggers of pain radiating through his entire left side. The streets were mostly empty, but he earned the looks of a few passersby as he dashed through the streets, taking the shortest route possible to the Star Room. It's almost over now. Let them stare.
Nina's a wonderful actress. This must be a-a ruse of some sort, he thought, as he ran. Perhaps she's working her own angle, trying to implicate Graham somehow, to avenge my death, and Lydia's. He didn't know which scenario was the correct one. No matter what, I just need to know she's all right.
He could deal with either scenario as long as she was alive and well.
George slowed a little as the Star Room came into view, not wanting to alert any of Graham's cronies, should they happen to be lurking about outside. He made his way to the back entrance, peered around the corner. There was no one standing guard that he could see. He crept up to the employee entrance. It was an entrance he was well familiar with, though, he noted, under much more pleasant circumstances. It was how he knew that the back door didn't quite lock all the time, that if you applied just the right amount of pressure to the door, lifted the doorknob ever so slightly-
Pop. The lock disengaged. He allowed himself a moment of success, then eased the door open. The hall split in two at the door; to the left, it led to the main room and the bar storage. George chose that direction first, sidestepping the floorboards that he knew creaked under weight. All those times seeing Nina after hours, he thought with an ironic smile, who'd have thought that would pay off in this way?
George ducked as he came around to where the bar met the hall, crouching under the small, waist-high swinging, saloon-style doors. The compression of his upper body made his chest inflame again. I'm sure Dr. Ogden and Miss James would be less than thrilled with me right now, he chastised himself. There'll be time to heal once this is over.
There was nothing between him and the rest of the room but the bartop. George put one hand on the countertop and raised himself so he his eyes were just over the top.
His eyes widened, and he stood completely up, his mouth an o of surprise as he spotted Miss Marsh bound to a chair and gagged on the stage. He put a finger to his lips, came around the other side of the bar. "Is he here?" George asked quietly.
She nodded once.
"And is he with a dark haired woman?" The most beautiful employee of this establishment? The woman who said she was proud of me for standing up for myself? He left that part unsaid as Miss Marsh nodded again, her eyes flickering toward backstage.
"I'll be back," he promised Miss Marsh, and cautiously made his way backstage, into the hallway once more. He pressed his back to the walls as he inched his way toward the dressing room. He could hear laughter coming from that doorway, and he felt a twinge of something that had nothing to do with his bullet wound. Oh Nina…please…
"I think we should be getting back-"
George's eyes narrowed. Graham.
"I don't think so." The voice was Nina Bloom's, and her tone was deadly. George slowly looked into the room. Nina sat astride Robert Graham, who was lying prone on the bed. The bed where I…where we…He shook his head. Now is not the time for petty jealousy, he told himself. Besides, from the looks of it, you have nothing to worry about in that department.
"You can't be serious." Graham was-was that laughter? George refrained from rolling his eyes. The man had gall, that was for certain.
"You killed my best friend," Nina countered. "You killed the best man I have ever met!"
George felt a burst of pride at those words, and then a chill at, "And now, you are gonna die."
George saw something glinting in her hand, dangerously close to Graham's neck, in the low lamplight. No, Nina, oh God. Don't. He stepped into the room. "Nina! Nina, don't do it."
The dancer looked up at the sound of his voice. He watched her facial expression turn from murderous to a mix of confusion and relief. "George," she whispered.
His name sounded so good coming from her. Almost as good as it had from Detective Murdoch. George nodded.
Graham bucked underneath Nina, seizing the moment and catching her off her guard. One moment, she'd had the upper hand; the next, George found himself in a state of terror as Graham pressed the stolen blade to Nina's neck, wrapping his arm around her thin frame. "Now Constable," his voice dripped with fake politeness, "that was a fortuitous entrance."
George glared daggers at him. "Let her go, Graham." He kept one eye on the knife in Graham's hands as he tried to reassure Nina to stay calm.
"Your list of mistakes keeps growing," Graham was almost laughing at him.
George felt hot under the collar. If he'd had a pistol, well, no, even then, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hit Graham without getting Nina, or be quick enough before Graham…Damn it, why is it that this man always seems to have the upper hand?! "Just let her go," he begged the man, hating the catch in his voice.
"Get out of my way," Graham hissed at him.
George shook his head. The land developer's response was to jab the blade at Nina's neck, drawing blood. She cried out and the sound chilled George so much he backed up a couple of steps, his hands in the air. "All right!" he agreed. "All right." Graham walked his hostage from the room, right past George, so that he was close enough to see the fear in Nina's eyes. If something happens to her…I cannot lose another friend to this man.
He followed a few steps behind them into the main room, and stopped short. Detective William Murdoch was just helping Miss Marsh from the chair, the ropes and the gag lying on the stage. "There are four of us, and only one of you, Mr. Graham," Murdoch said calmly, his eyes flickering to George. "I'd suggest you consider your odds."
George held his breath. Graham didn't seem terribly concerned with the turn of events. "I could kill her," he threatened, and George clenched a fist. "Just a flick of the wrist…"
"But then, you would surely be charged with murder," Murdoch reminded him. His steely gazed was fixed on the land developer now. "As of yet…regrettably…you won't be. But, one wrong move with Miss Bloom, here," Murdoch nodded to the young woman, "and all that will change."
For the next few moments, there was a tense standoff. George stood behind Graham, ready to tackle him if necessary, his whole body on alert. He could barely feel the pain in his chest for the adrenaline coursing through him. I can't let this man hurt anyone else I care for. If he doesn't let her go…
Graham tossed the knife to the table beside him, and eased his grip on Nina. She ducked out from under his arm, throwing herself into George's arms. He held her at arm's length, checking for any other wounds, and seeing none, wrapped her in his arms tightly, pressing a napkin from one of the tables to the wound on her neck. She smelled amazing. God, he'd missed her. He kissed the top of her head, his eyes flickering to Murdoch and Graham.
"You realize, of course," Graham was telling Murdoch, "that she tried to kill me. I want her charged."
George rolled his eyes behind the man, knowing that he couldn't see him. As soon as the crown attorney has everything in front of him, I'm sure he'll agree she'd have done Toronto a favor!
Murdoch looked amused. "Mr. Graham," he said dryly, "I think you'll find that from this day forward…what you want matters very little."
The detective looked at George. "Escort him to the station house, Constable Crabtree."
George drew himself up at the mention of his title. Nina was looking up at him proudly. George straightened his borrowed clothing, and walked up to Graham. The taller man was looking down on him derisively. "Sir," George acknowledged the order from Detective Murdoch-and didn't it feel good to be doing that once again. They really did function better as a team. "Just a minute."
I did make a promise, that if he came anywhere near Nina, badge be damned- George decked Robert Graham, sending the man sprawling atop a table.
"I hope you'll forgive me that, sir," he told Detective Murdoch.
Murdoch looked at Graham innocently. "For what?" he asked, and turned to help Miss Marsh down from the stage.
George hauled Graham off the table. The man was spouting diatribes about having George and Nina arrested for assault. George wrenched Graham's arm behind him and stuck a foot behind his knee, dropping the man to the floor. He bent down so he could whisper in Graham's ear. "You hurt my best friends in the world, Graham," he told him, his eyes flicking up to meet Nina's. "And you had a good man killed." His temper flared, but he kept it in check. Steady, George. Jackson's death cannot be in vain. Nina handed George a length of rope he knew they sometimes used in their acts. He maybe made the knots just a tad tighter than would normally be approved. Then, he hauled Graham to his feet. "You endangered my family," George hissed in his ear. "Just another item to add to your long, long list of mistakes."
With that, he pushed Graham forward, and out to the waiting police wagon. Murdoch assisted Miss Marsh into a waiting hansom cab, then turned to George. "If it's all right with you, sir," George said, threading his arm through Nina's, "I think I'd like to make sure Miss Bloom gets home all right."
Murdoch touched the brim of his homburg, and swung himself into the cab. George gave him a two-fingered wave, and waited until the cab had turned the corner before pulling Nina into his arms and kissing her soundly. When he finally broke off for a breath, he cupped her face in both his hands. "Are you all right?" he asked her worriedly. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?" He tilted her head so he could look at the wound on her neck.
"I'm fine, George," Nina assured him, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm not the one who almost died," she reminded him. She tucked her head under his chin, and he ignored the sharp pain that came along with it. "I'll be fine, now," she said, looking up at him.
"I'm so sorry about Lydia," George told her, his hand running absently up and down her back. "I-I wish I'd have been available to tell you that sooner," he added, his voice thick with emotion.
"I don't think I could have lived with myself if I'd have lost the both of you," Nina confessed. "I'm sorry about Constable Jackson," she said into his shirt. "If there's anything I could do-"
He cut her off with another kiss, and then hugged her tighter, resting his chin on top of her head. "Just this," George whispered, finally allowing himself to grieve. He could hear Nina sobbing into his jacket. "This is…well, this will do, for now."