As is customary, I would like to thank all of you who followed, reviewed, or added this story to your favorite list! In addition, I thank all of you who keep up with this story in spite of my infrequent publishing!

This update comes later than usual, and this chapter, longer than usual. For those of you who do not like these entries from Jonathan Harker's journal, rejoice; this chapter will be the last to contain them. If you like them, I apologize! But it is a longer chapter. ^_^

I don't think I mentioned it in the previous chapter so I will make note of it here. There are more entries in Jonathan Harker's journal than the ones included here. I've merely cut down the content so you're not bored with too many details. I have also kept the original spelling of 'Helsing.'

For your convenience:

Italics indicate Mina's recollection of events, written by Jonathan Harker.
[Brackets] indicate Jonathan Harker's point of view and thoughts during Mina's recollection.
Team Good: Professor Van Helsing, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), Dr. John Seward, Jonathan Harker, and Quincey Morris

Please read, review, and enjoy! : )

I do not own Hellsing, Dracula, or Nosferatu.

The sensation of falling jolted Amelia from the border of sleep and consciousness and back to her reading spot. It was the second time she had begun to fall asleep against her will, leading her to believe night had given way to the early hours of morning some time ago.

The sensible thing to do now was sleep, but she could not do that just yet. Only after she finished reading the journal would she allow herself to sleep.

Both disturbing and intriguing, Jonathan's narrative called attention like the front pages of newspapers with stories of disaster and suffering in large, bold print: how does your misery compare to another's?

It pained her to read the entries as much as it filled her with some degree of comfort. If Jonathan Harker could endure the horror, there might be hope for Amelia Seward.

Unfortunately, there was not much hope for improvement regarding her opinion of Alucard. So far as she could tell, Dracula and Alucard were still one and the same.

Amelia rubbed her eyes and looked for the passage where she left off.

September 18th, evening - I spoke briefly with Van Helsing, Quincey, Arthur, and Dr. Seward this morning about the man I saw at Regent's Park. Each time I return to the memory I am more certain that he was the Count, but Van Helsing says there must be no doubt in order for us to act. What if the man was a decoy, or a subordinate of the Count? Haste may reveal our intentions and identities, he warns.

I do not like sitting idle, waiting for more evidence to present itself. Yet when I imagine myself once more standing before that monster—vampire, Van Helsing reiterates—I do not know if my will shall be strong enough to fight him. After all, I made no move to confront him in the park…

He will torment me, I think, even after death.

September 19th, afternoon - Those terrible articles in the paper to tell me another person has gone missing. Twenty people have disappeared now; this number only accounts for those who have family or friends to report their absence.

Dr. Seward left this morning after hearing from the asylum. One of the patients has escaped.

Van Helsing accompanied him. The Professor seems troubled, but will not speak, and this brings worry to the rest of us.

Truthfully, I am no better than he. I have told Mina nothing. Though she does not confront me, her concern manifests in the silence, in the glances we exchange, and it is in these moments that I struggle the most. Should a man give the woman he cherishes reason to fret over the living as she continues to be haunted by the dead?

Dear Lucy… I can scarcely see her as I would like to remember, before the events in Whitby, before that monster took her.

Mina claims to see her withering in her dreams, and while she insists she sleeps at night, when I visit, I often hear her pacing in her room.

September 19th, evening - Dr. Seward's escapee cannot be found, and since there is little hope of finding him in the dark, the search has been called off for the night. Van Helsing suspects he has not gotten far.

He spoke with me for a short while after his return, asking that I go to Quincey and Arthur early tomorrow and bring them to Dr. Seward's office. From what little I have been told, this escaped patient may be in contact with the Count.

September 21nd, evening - At half past eight this morning the Count arrived at the gates of the asylum. Dr. Seward was there with an umbrella to unlock the gate and usher him through. The rain, falling in grey, unyielding torrents, seemed to us a portent of misfortune, but the Professor was adamant that the interrogation take place.

As planned, Van Helsing watched from the alley and Arthur and I observed from an office across the street as Dr. Seward led the visitor into the building and out of the elements.

There is no longer any doubt that the man at the park was indeed the monster I feared. Not only on account of his appearance, but of the peculiarities during the meeting that took place.

I am getting ahead of myself…

Yes, the Count inadvertently revealed himself. If he was a stranger, why would he answer a summons delivered to the Count's residence? The Count thinks me dead, and with Mr. Hawkins missing, there are no others, to his knowledge, who are aware of the devil lurking behind his gentlemanly façade.

His appearance has changed some since I last saw him, according to Dr. Seward. He is now clean-shaven and keeps his hair unbound. It would also seem that his preference for suits is expensive, but that will not make him stand out so much in the heart of London. Dr. Seward suspects that with his demeanor and physique, the Count has spent some time in military service. He also believes the Count is not mentally impaired, and Van Helsing concurs.

Sane! Does sanity drive one who behaves monstrously?

The Professor waited five minutes after Dr. Seward and the Count disappeared inside the building before approaching the gate and letting himself in with the spare key. Arthur and I remained at the office window. It was a unanimous decision that I stay behind.

Van Helsing said all was going well until the end of the conversation, when the Count began asking questions. Dr. Seward cannot tell us what he said after he answered the first few, but the Professor claims he was informing the Count of police activity in the area, and even assured him that police would be asked to refrain from disturbing his residence in the future.

When Van Helsing entered the office, the Count was asking how Dr. Seward came to know his name. If the Doctor had said anything…!

I watched him leave in the same carriage he arrived in.

It was the right decision—letting him go. We were not prepared to fight him, and there were too many people around who might have been dragged into the fray. We had to let him walk away.

September 27th, evening - The horrors of the night still plague London, meaning the Count is still alive.

He knows that his residence is no longer safe, now that the coffin in the basement has been dismantled and burned, and its soil dumped into the Thames. According to Van Helsing, vampires cannot sustain their power if they are unable to frequently return and rest in their native soil. It is likely that the Count brought more than one coffin with him to England.

By day we search, by night we hunt. There are more ghouls now. Sensing someone on his trail, the Count is diverting our attention, and though I wish to think differently, I believe his strategy is working. We do not have the numbers to fight on multiple fronts, and I will not even consider letting Mina fight beside—or even accompany—us in the streets after sunset. Van Helsing might have convinced me to share with her all that has happened since May, but I will not be persuaded to allow her to do any more than compile our information. It is too dangerous!

Knowing what troubles me and that she can be of help brings her comfort, though she seems very worried for us all. Of her own volition, she has taken to memorizing everything that we know about vampires, ghouls, and Count Dracula, as wells as countless other pieces of information that she thinks will benefit us. Van Helsing says she would make a fine secretary, but would prefer not to see her become one. She already loses sleep, and on this path, it is only a matter of time before the Count becomes a fixation. I do not want to lose the Mina I fell in love with.

She smiles and offers encouragement. Without complaint or hesitation she accepts her work. She gives us strength. She embodies what we are striving to preserve.

Van Helsing, I ask, 'Is that not enough?'

September 29th, evening - Dr. Seward and I returned to the house not long after midnight this morning.

The Professor and Quincey appeared an hour later than planned, with Quincey's right forearm wrapped in cloth. They were attacked by a group of ghouls; it is disconcerting news, since we have only confronted solitary beings in the past.

'There is no one out there—aside from the monsters. Too many disappearances lately, I suppose,' winced Quincey as he settled into an armchair.

[I should make note here that Arthur is still recovering at the hospital. He is back on his feet, but the doctor wants him to stay another night.]

'We must be extra careful,' the Professor nodded in agreement. 'They are beginning to take risks. Our second ghoul tonight had broken into an apartment through a window on the second floor. I am not sure how he reached it. That reminds me…' His forehead wrinkled when he turned to me. 'You must close your window, Mr. Harker, and make sure it is locked.'

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. 'The windows are always kept shut. Too many vagabonds and drunkards late at night, no matter the street.'

Van Helsing pushed off from the wall against which he had been leaning. 'Perhaps it slipped your mind, this evening? Your window was opened when we returned.'

I was out of my chair in a second. I moved for the door, but the Professor grabbed my arm before I could take the handle. He put his finger to his lips and glanced at the ceiling.

'Madam Mina.'

I lowered my voice. 'Yes, yes, Professor! Do you not understand? You came in through the kitchen—the back door.' I was speaking faster, my voice coming out in a hiss. 'I take the guest room when I visit—at the front, above where we are standing. You came in using the back door! That is not my bedroom! Mina! Mina sleeps there!' I was beginning to choke on my words.

Dr. Seward, who had begun to look at Quincey's injury, was on his feet almost as fast as Quincey. Quincey, looking white, stepped swiftly towards the Professor, just as anxious to move upstairs as I and without a doubt thinking of Lucy.

Van Helsing seemed upset as well, but again he signaled that we should be quiet as we made our way to the staircase.

The upper floor was eerily silent, our footsteps swallowed by the darkness. For a few seconds, we listened at Mina's door.

Hearing nothing, Van Helsing, who still had a firm grip on my arm, suddenly grabbed the knob with his other hand and threw the door open. Every one of us but he cringed backwards, startled without a warning. It took only a second to recover, and we rushed into the room behind the Professor, our attention guided to the bed by the small gas lamp alive beside it.

I called out to Mina as loudly as I could with hardly any breath left in my chest, and the Professor uttered a sharp, 'No!' having already assessed the situation.

Mina lay still upon the edge of the bed, the blankets folded back to leave her covered in nothing but her nightgown. The man, with a hand splayed on either side of her to support his bent frame, raised his head to observe us, the dark red of his cape matching the shade of his eyes.

'Count Dracula.' Van Helsing sounded furious. Clenching a stake at his side, he raised it meaningfully for the Count to see. I did not remember him releasing my arm.

The Count growled like an animal and straightened his arms, his cape hanging about one shoulder awkwardly. A couple beads of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. In a slow and calculating manner, he licked away what he could, glaring at the Professor for quite a long while before assessing the rest of us.

I struggled to call to Mina again, but the sight of him silenced me. I felt sick.

Sliding a hand under her back, the Count pulled Mina to his chest. For a moment I could see her clearly, her eyelids shut and both lips and nightdress stained with blood.

'Let her go, Count.' The Professor warned, and Quincey stepped up beside him. My arm shook under Dr. Seward's hand as he tried to get my attention, but I would not avert my gaze from the Count and Mina.

The Count's angry expression gradually changed as he surveyed us one by one, and what started out as a small chuckle rapidly crescendoed into a laugh.

He saw me.

For a minute, standing in that room, I was afraid of the Count; our second meeting was just as mortifying as I dreamed it would be. There he was, bloody and holding the person I loved most, thrilled that I was not dead and mocking my suffering!

Then I was no longer scared.

I pulled my arm from Dr. Seward and stepped forward, reaching into my coat for my only remaining stake after that night's hunt.

'This is a surprise, Mr. Harker. I did not think we would meet again.' The Count's fiendish grin was still in place, even as he eyed the weapon in my hand.

A small whimper came from Mina, and she stirred against him. Slowly, she slid one of her hands up and fisted it around his disheveled collar, tugging weakly.

'He is bleeding,' Dr. Seward muttered behind me. 'His neck.' Squinting in the dim light, I saw that what he said was true. Some length of the cape pooled on the floor behind the Count because the left collar was not fastened. Red smears darkened the skin above his clavicle where Mina was pulling down the fabric.

'Joining Mr. Harker, are you, Dr. Seward? Perhaps you left your sanity at the asylum after all.'

'Let her go.' My voice was stronger, and I took another step forward, gripping the stake tighter.

The Count reached for Mina's hand and unclenched her fingers from his shirt.

'It is too late.' The wild grin dropped from his face, taking the taunting edge in his voice with it.

In an instant I was running towards him, ready to strike with my stake, to die, if it would free Mina.

The Count was equally fast to react, pushing Mina back onto the bed while continuing to face me. His cape flapped around him, though there was no wind to be felt, and from its underside swept an ink-black wave that rippled along the floor. I knew enough to evade it, but as I jumped away, it followed, wrapping around my ankles and yanking me off my feet.

The light in the room was extinguished, and while I was momentarily blind, around me I could hear the others moving. Furniture was overturned, something shattered, and as I tried to loosen the shadowy bonds that were creeping up my legs, a body thumped close by my feet. I got to my knees, rigid; it struck me that one of my friends might have been killed. As my eyes adjusted to the night, I could make out the figure of the Count growing larger with each step forward.

'This time I will watch you die, Harker.'

With the stake still in my hand I waited for him, unable to run with the black mass coiled above my knees. To my right there came a rustling, but I dared not turn away from the Count for fear that I may miss an opportunity. I saw a glint of silver, an object thrown too fast to follow or distinguish with peripheral sight until it was stopped. Only a couple steps from me, the Count halted and reached for his left side, where a knife was buried between his ribs.

'This…' He grunted, and his eyes widened in disbelief. I risked glancing to my right.

'A blessed blade, vampire,' Van Helsing explained, down on one knee. 'Not as potent as a stake to the heart, but I carry enough of them to put you in agony until then.' His words made the Count pause with a hand hovering over the weapon's hilt. The Count stared hard at the Professor.

I decided my chance had come.

A chuckle escaped the Count's lips. He grabbed the hilt of the knife.

'I am intrigued by your companion, Mr. Harker.'

I pushed myself up with my hands and struggled to remain upright as the black tendrils tried to pull me back to the floor. The Count turned his attention to me, and with a jerk of his arm the blade was out of his body, but not discarded.

'Not enough to kill me,' he mused, showing his fangs as his lips pulled back into a snarl. "But a man—'

Many things happened then.

The Count grabbed me by the coat, pulling me up as he stabbed downwards with the blessed blade. Not resisting, I reached as far forward as I could with my stake, aiming for his heart.

Several voices called my name, a gun fired, and the point of my stake made contact just below the Count's breast. There was a great pain in my shoulder, and I collided with the floor, alive and conscious.

Immediately the bindings loosened around my legs, and I scrambled away from the Count.

'Mina.'

I paused in my retreat.

It was not a friend who spoke her name.

Behind the imposing figure of the Count was Mina, almost hidden in his shadow, her arms tightly wrapped around his middle. She did not seem to have gained any additional injuries, but I could not say the same for the Count.

Blood glistened in the moonlight, spilling over the vampire's suit from the wound I had inflicted below his heart—not nearly close enough to kill him. Three blessed blades were embedded in his arm, the knife no longer in his hand. More blood trickled down the side of his face from a head injury I could not see. But he stood there and looked down at Mina, as if neither his injuries nor his enemies were worth the attention.

'Please stop… You must…' Her breathing was labored, and while the Count's cape muffled some of her words, it could not dampen the intensity of her voice. 'This is too much… You have me… Please!' She let out a sob at the end, and that was all.

I said nothing, though I thought to say many things. I suppose, in that silence, that I believed the Count was considering Mina's plea.

'Jonathan,' I heard Quincey whisper at my side. 'We need to rethink this strategy. I shot him in the head… And your shoulder… A miracle the Professor was able to get his arm and not hit—' I turned to Quincey, pressing a hand to my left shoulder where the fabric was split, and then looked at the Count again. The blood on his face was gone.

'Have you reached your limits, gentlemen?' The Count's gaze settled briefly on each of us. He reached for his punctured forearm and savagely tugged out one of the blades, sending it clattering to the floor.

'Have we been defeated, vampire? Do we beg you to curse us?' The Professor's tone was incredulous, and strangely, disappointed. You kill the living and surround yourself with the Undead. What do you know of human strength?' Van Helsing met the Count's glare without flinching, moving one hand into his coat pocket. 'If it is a battle you desire, be assured, we shall see that you get it.'

'Very good,' said the Count, as though the Professor had given the answer he wanted to hear. He tugged out the second blade from his elbow, and the blood that had been pooling on the floor beside him stirred. It was as if time was ticking in reverse. The blood gushed upward like a fountain, slithering into his open wounds. His nose wrinkling in disgust, the Count eyed the knife for a moment before throwing it at the Professor.

'No!' cried Mina in protest, turning desperately towards the Professor.

Van Helsing ducked and continued moving to avoid the next knife that flew at him. Quincey shoved a stake into my hand and leveled his gun, reluctant to shoot with Mina so close.

The Count grabbed Mina's wrist, detaching and repositioning her in front of him. The black masses rose around them like fire, and one tendril grasped the stake in his torso and wrenched it out.

'Remember, Mr. Harker, that battles are either won or lost.' He let go of Mina's wrist and laid his hands on her shoulders the same way proud parents posed with their children in photographs.

After a second's pause, he smiled and shoved her at Quincey and I.

'To the victor go the spoils.'

Quincey and I caught Mina as the shadows engulfed the Count. Darting towards the open window in that shapeless form, he escaped into the night.

I wanted to hold Mina, to comfort her and tell her she would be safe. The only thing I found myself doing as I kept her at arm's length was staring at the blood on her lips.

'You must not touch me,' Mina cried, keeping her head bowed to hide her face. Pushing my hands away, she shuffled some distance away on the floor, apologizing over and over.

Dr. Seward needed medical attention; he had been knocked unconscious during the encounter with the Count. I too, required aid, for while the Count had intended to kill me with the blessed blade, the intervention of Mina, the Professor, and Quincey resulted in a large but non-fatal wound.

We must recover quickly, for our injuries, while not prohibiting our daytime activities, keep us from patrolling at night.

I am with Mina tonight; Quincey stands watch outside the door. The Professor does not think the Count will return for Mina yet, but his reasons for guarding Mina seem to go beyond protection from the Count. He has requested that I watch Mina carefully throughout the night, and have Quincey take my place if I feel my concentration slip.

October 1st, morning - Mina finally woke very early this morning, and we persuaded her to eat and drink a little. She was calm and more like her usual self, but she was exhausted, and often reached up to touch the scars on her neck during conversation.

Van Helsing, who we called over along with Arthur and Dr. Seward, told her the marks should recede over time, to which she said nothing.

None of us wished to pry for information, but it was Van Helsing who said what I and the others could not, that her experience with the Count could not be overlooked. Ever so quietly, Mina agreed, taking the Professor's hands in her own.

Truly, without Van Helsing, I do not think we would be able to confront this threat. The man knows the powers and weaknesses of monsters like no other, possesses the necessary tools for the job, and has a number of years of experience behind him… Undoubtedly, this is of much help in a rising crisis when we face an enemy like the Count, but I consider his humanity his most valuable power.

'My dear friend,' he called Mina. Those were the only words she needed to hear.

In the beginning she struggled, attempting to remember every detail and event in its exact order, sometimes leaning far forward from her pillow and shuffling under the blankets, almost frantic to defend her behavior.

The Professor, who allowed his hands to remain in Mina's custody for as long as she wished, would not let us interrupt.

The other day… It was not the first time I had seen the Count.

It was in Whitby, when I was returning Lucy to her mother's house after one of several long walks in her sleep, that I think I saw him first. I could not see well in the dark but knew that the person walking the path that night was a stranger, and fearing for our safety, I rushed Lucy back to the house.

In the following days I was cautious, but I soon forgot him as Lucy's health failed.

The next time I saw the Count I was in my bedroom, on the night of September 24th. It was late, and I was writing a list of comparisons between Dr. Seward's and Jonathan's meetings with the Count.

After some time I heard a dog barking outside. The noise went on, and eventually I went to the window to see what was bothering the animal.

The dog was on the street in front of my window, and when it noticed me, it began pacing. I tried shooing it away, but it would not leave.

Thinking it would quiet if I gave it food, I brought a leftover sausage link from the kitchen, but in the time it took me to return to the window, the dog had disappeared. I assumed the dog was still around, and so I threw out the meat.

Then I shut the window, finished making the list, and went to bed.

But I did not sleep. I began to feel frightened, though I cannot tell what it was that made me feel so. I turned on a light, went to the window, pulled aside the curtain and saw that the street was empty.

On impulse, I turned around very quickly, and there he was, standing in front of my door as if he had let himself in. He looked exactly as you described.

[The Professor believes the dog below her window was the Count, if not a familiar of his, used to help gain entry to the premises. We had discussed in previous meetings that the Count may not be able to enter any place without invitation, and while he was not directly welcomed into the house, Mina had left her window ajar when she descended to the kitchen.

We shall also have to be wary of animals now, especially if the Count is capable of shapeshifting.]

He came to me slowly from the other side of the room, and either by some power of his or as a consequence of my own fear, my body would not move. He did not speak to me, and I grew so uncomfortable, unable to look away from his eyes.

When he stood directly before me, he placed his hand aside head.

I fainted, then, and the next time I opened my eyes, it was morning. I was in my bed, and there were no signs of the room or myself having been disturbed during the night.

I thought about what had happened, and consulted the notes we had been compiling about the Count and his ghouls. It dawned on me that I might have dreamed the event, and ultimately, I convinced myself that that was the case.

The following night I left a light on to chase my fears away, only to wake later and find the room dark. The curtains over the window were parted, not tightly drawn as I had left them.

Again, the Count was there; a shadow in the dark, just beside the window, out of the reach of the moonlight.

I sat up, gathered the blankets around me, and asked, 'Who are you? Why do you come here?' In my heart, I wanted to doubt him.

'Do not speak,' he ordered. I complied, although there was no force that compelled me.

The Count seated himself on the edge of the bed, beside me.

I could not bring myself to move away, so I looked at him… I loathed him. I feared him. I blamed him. I wished he was not as he was… I pitied him. I wished he was a better man.

[She leaned forwards from the pillows, speaking quickly with a nervous energy that I have rarely seen.]

Don't you see? I thought I was going to die, and in what I imagined were my final minutes, I wished the Count was not evil! That he would do me no harm, and not kill! It is sad! It is pitiful that he cannot do kindly unto others! That he cannot conquer his own demons! He is weak!

[I stepped out of the room for a while. Mina was crying and apologizing, assuring everyone that she could explain so that we understood.

When Van Helsing called me back in, Mina had settled down, and the Professor had her explain herself again. She pities the Count. She pities him! But, she said, she could do no more for him than that. Even if he is weak, his actions cannot be overlooked.

The Professor thanked her, and from there, Mina continued her account.]

The Count sat down beside me and leaned close. He said things; every breath against my ear, every whisper like poison. He knew my name, little bits and things about me he heard from Jonathan, my connection to Dr. Seward—that I was helping you! We are friends, and I know that none of you would tell another of our business, yet, somehow, he knew…!

I should have told you all. Certainly, that is what he wanted me to do! You would have wanted to know, and I wanted to tell you… But I kept it to myself. We know so little about the Count; I thought that acting in accordance with his wishes would put us at another disadvantage. I suspected he would come back when the response he was anticipating did not come, and two nights later, he did appear.

When he saw me, awake and on my feet, he rushed towards me so suddenly, with such fury... But he never touched me. He said not a word.

It was likely that I would not live to see the morning, and so I spoke. It was selfish of me. I did it to comfort myself. I wanted to show him how brave I—we—can be at the worst of times. And so I told him that I would not do as he wanted.

[Mina's lips twitched so terribly in the smile she gave us, it was astonishing that she could speak clearly. Gradually her brow furrowed, and the way she looked at us was as if our expressions, our thoughts, had stung her.]

You should not expect me to run away from a battle I would willingly send my friends into! I am fighting for those I hold dear as much as I am fighting for myself. Then and there, he and I faced one another in battle. It was my battlefield. And I made my choice. The Count said I was involved, and I am! Those words have meaning for me, and they should mean just as much to all of you!

[It is true! We allowed her to join us, and yet, despite knowing of the admirable qualities she possesses, we prevent her from deepening her involvement.

Did Van Helsing know that it would come to this? Is that why he asked that I inform her of our troubles?

I wrote earlier of Mina's compassion, her kindness, and how we must protect her to save what is good in this world. I fear that Van Helsing intends to use Mina to fight this evil.]

Amelia turned the page over and found the back cover of the binder. She flipped the page back, rubbed the paper between her fingers in case the pieces were stuck together. The translation really did end abruptly.

This can't be all there is to it. Amelia pressed her palms against her eyelids and released a long, quiet sigh.

Pity him. Pity him? It felt appropriate to cry. I've learned a little about him, but it doesn't tell me how to deal with him! And there's hardly anything about how vampire powers work! She dropped her hands from her face and let her head tilt back until it knocked against the deskside. There are no textbooks that tell you how to communicate with a vampire. No required reading to tell someone like me what powers I have, or how to control any of them.

I have to figure it out on my own. Amelia pursed her lips.

My battlefield… It didn't sound as funny as she imagined it would.

Letting the back of her head slide against the desk, Amelia found her sight falling on the Captain.

Two battlefields. I don't know how to deal with him and his lot either. She closed the binder and uncrossed her legs, hoping to catch the Captain's attention.

A pair of red eyes rolled in her direction.

"Is there more? Another book?"

The Captain nodded and leaned forward in his chair. Pointing at the floor with one hand, he shook his head.

Amelia went quiet for a moment. "There's more… but not now?"

The Captain narrowed his eyes and shook his head again, putting more emphasis into pointing at the floor.

"Not here?"

Settling back in his chair, he gave a curt nod.

That doesn't help. She poked a finger against one of the binder's plastic corners.

"Do you know who has it?"

The Captain made no reply.

Amelia blinked. Then she was glancing away between blinks.

Why do you have to stare directly at me when I ask a question you won't answer? Look away once in a while, why don't you! Ultimately she dropped her gaze and didn't bring it back up.

Silence returned.

For ten long minutes Amelia glared at the binder in her lap, squinting painfully in concentration, because she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. I should read it again… I think I need to read it again. There must be something below the surface. Some meaning behind every sentence… Think about it. Don't sleep, think… Think… Think…