Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables my grammar to pass muster for Hal.

Endings are terribly, terribly hard. Which is why this took so long, and also why we're not ~quite~ there yet. For anyone out there still keeping up with this story, I thank you. Drop me a note and let me know what you think. Reviews are the currency of this so-called society.


Rosanna Bellante looked like hell. Her beautiful blue eyes were strained and bloodshot. She smelled pretty bad too. They had left her shackled to the interrogation room table since yesterday, he'd heard. When Richard entered the room and sat opposite of her, she barely acknowledged his appearance.

"So, you're in with all this too," she uttered eventually, her voice hoarse. "My chiropractor is going to have a field day after what Henry's dog did." Rosanna rubbed her neck to accentuate the point.

Richard pulled his flask from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and slid it across the table within her reach, then casually leaned back in his seat. She paused for half a second, looking at it warily before meeting his gaze as she snatched up the flask like the deprived creature she was. Richard waited while she gulped down the entirety of its contents. Richard waited until she was ready to speak.

"I don't know how he bloody does this," she gave a little laugh as she set the flask down, her hand shaking. He answered her with a mere smile and waited for her to continue. "It makes sense now - Hetty. She has a plan, you know. To expose something big. It's all of this. This place. Them. You," Rosanna shuddered. The fresh blood hitting her system made her words choppy. Richard clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward.

"Zanna, Hetty is dead," he spoke the news simply.

Rosanna's disbelief was evident, but when he didn't say anything further, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Henry?"

"Henry is-" Richard paused to make his words deliberate. "Yes, Henry killed her." There was a strong mix of emotions on Rosanna's face as the news sank in, but Richard caught a flash of her curiosity as well. "Before you ask, no, he's not back. I'm beginning to think he never will be. The Old Ones' reign is over. Hetty's plan failed. You have a choice, Rosanna."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" She bristled, hurt and confusion igniting that fiery temper of hers.

"The Council," he answered calmly. "Someone needs to step up to take Hetty's place. I'd like for you to join me."

She huffed, "As a rat, like you? If you think I'd -" she shook her head, still holding the empty flask. "How long have you been working for these people, Richard?"

Richard glanced at his watch. "Oh, only about six hours officially now. But I would have a lot sooner, had I known. We need them. We have for centuries. Everything here is for a delicate subterfuge - one which I inadvertently started, as it turns out. So yes, I'm cooperating on behalf of all of our secrets," Richard declared solidly. "Having a leader in the know has many advantages for them. But so does being a leader who is aware of their work. If we continue with discretion, then we can continue much as we always have."

"You really believe that? These people are savages! They would have happily left me to the wolves if they hadn't thought I'd be useful!"

Richard's raised eyebrow caused Rosanna to catch herself with a beaten sigh. "Their mission, if you haven't gathered already," he added, "is merely to keep the supernatural world shrouded in supposition and myth. They do not attempt to police us because they know enough to realise it would be a lost cause. They do not interfere, except to tidy away that which we do not ourselves. This clandestine organisation has kept the belief going that Man is in control of his domain. We can continue as we always have. And you could join me. The Council is ours for the moulding. Otherwise..." Richard glanced to the concrete walls.

"They'll kill me, you mean. Because I know about them. I'm either with you, or dead." She stated what they both knew was true. "Is this how they got to Spike?"

"No," Richard shook his head. "Our dear Steven was approached. Recruited, as it were, to spy on the two of us." He laughed at the irony. "You realise that Spike spoke up for you? He's the one who told them to wait. He wants to believe in you."

Rosanna licked her lips and turned her gaze to examine the flask in her hands. "And what about Henry?"

"Henry is the very last of his kind," Richard lied, but then peppered it with truth. "He truly wishes no part of this. In fact, I'm to proceed as if I were the one who killed him, just after he ended Hetty. Henry wishes to disappear."

"So he's going to stay clean. And dull," she huffed. "What exactly is your proposition for me then?"

"There were witnesses to Hetty's demise. I'm certain the news has already begun to spread," Richard speculated.

"But none for dear Henry's death. Because yet again, it didn't bloody happen." Rosanna tapped the table to punctuate the statement.

"I want you to bear witness. That I killed Henry Yorke," Richard stated solemnly. "The secrets of the Old Ones need to die with him. Otherwise, he will always be hunted."

"Give me one good reason why I should care? Bastard gets what he deserves, if you ask me."

"He is giving you another chance, Rosanna. He of all people believes that we're capable of change. And that includes you. Whatever has passed between you is in the past. Hal doesn't wish you dead."

"And I would be, if I don't agree to this scheme, is that it?"

"Astute," Richard answered plainly.

"And if I do - say I stoop to this little game? What makes you think I won't snitch years from now? Revealing the fact that someone still knows Snow's secrets would give me a hell of a leg up."

"So, marry me. Be my new partner," Richard reasoned. Which caused Rosanna to sputter.

"What?"

"Miss Bellante, would you consider holding a vested interest in 'Turner Properties'?" Richard elaborated. "With Henry truly gone, our long hidden love can flourish. Or, so will be our story. I need to keep you close. It will be some time before anyone here will trust you. Our partnership would give you that 'leg up' you desire."

"Marriage." Rosanna made quite the face.

"Oh, come now. It's not so bad."

"Aren't you dating your secretary? Besides, I didn't think you actually liked me," she scoffed, but appeared to be eyeing him up.

"Rosanna, Henry is my closest friend. Even knowing what he was up to all these years, I wouldn't have dared. If the pendulum of his interest was to ever sway back into your favour? But this was his suggestion," Richard stated. "Nor am I currently seeing anyone, as if that matters. If you and I were to form an alliance, it would show solidarity in lieu of our lost leaders. We're to let the Council continue to believe that they are the only ones behind the curtain. The networks in law enforcement and the blood donors will be back in place. And we will all get to continue in peace."

"Including Henry." Rosanna sighed, then cradled her chin in her palm. The chain at her wrist clinked while she contemplated. "He wants them to think that you killed him, you said?"

"Yes."

"I'll consider your offer," she stated, sitting upright. "But on one condition." She gave a sly smile and Richard cocked his head and waited for her to continue. "Let me be the one who ends the great Henry Yorke in your little tale. No one will ever believe that you did it. You're far too loyal."

Richard huffed a laugh, then smiled in turn. "I suppose you have a point. Can I get you another flask? We'll have much to discuss."

"Must you even ask, turtledove?"


Tom slipped away while Gwedore, Irving, and Christa were being debriefed about the Department and its mission. They all had been released ahead of schedule and Alex had gone to tell Allison. She would be here with the car shortly, but Tom was determined to see Hal while he still could.

He found his way down to the containment corridor and was met by a stout and experienced looking guard.

"Calm down - I just want to talk to 'im," Tom gestured disarmingly as the guard stood abruptly.

"Goddamned circus down here if you ask me," the man muttered under his breath, dubiously looking Tom over. "But suit yourself. Rook said you'd show."

"If he goes unruly I can handle it," Tom assured as he opened the door.

"Hal," Tom said forcibly, which didn't bring about any response from the immobile vampire. Tom stepped into the little room and pulled the door closed behind him, ignoring the protest of the guard. But this was to be a private conversation - as well as Tom could provide anyways, given the circumstances.

The room dropped into shadow without the corridor light. "Hal, mate," he tried again, softening his voice. "When Alex told me you'd gone off, I… well, I doubted you and I'm sorry."

Tom sighed and looked down at his sneakers, dropping his hands into the pockets of his jumper without concern for the threat of the captive vampire. "Thing is, it wasn't because of killing that Castle fella. That I understood. But for you to fall after, well, I believed it. I believed you could've killed that guard. Betrayed Alex. That you fled to give in to the blood lust, even after all this time."

Tom heard Hal take a deep breath, but his friend still didn't say anything. Tom returned his gaze to the floor, uncomfortable. This talk had gone better in his head. "What I mean to say is… I failed you. I never shoulda left. I shoulda set this up proper first."

"This is not your fault," Hal uttered softly, then looked up. Even in the low light, Tom noticed that his friend's eyes were reddened with the harsh beginnings of withdrawal.

"I know that. But I also shoulda known you weren't okay."

"No, it is I who failed you," Hal stated with conviction. Tom shook his head but Hal didn't let him argue. "I failed you," Hal repeated, asserting his point, "because I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see all of the consequences. I'm sorry, Tom. I truly am."

Tom paused and ran his hands over his head, unsure of exactly what he could say. Then he shrugged. "No permanent harm done. But… I told ya before to come talk to me. You can, you know? That's what mates be for."

"I know, Tom. I didn't, and I should have. I know," Hal uttered, defeated.

"But would you have even listened?" Tom asked sincerely, causing Hal to drop his eyes again, confirming his guess. "Alex probably was the only one who could get through to you."

"Alex… is stronger than us all," Hal said after a pause.

"Yeah. She could knock some sense into you, is what."

"If she hadn't found me…" Hal trailed off.

"If Alex hadn't found you, we would have lost you then, wouldn't we? One way or the other."

Hal nodded the affirmative.

"What I don't get though, is why? You who always knows the exits and all. Why would you want to… you know?" Tom paused awkwardly, unable to even say it.

"Off myself?" Hal said bluntly, then closed his eyes. "To protect her. To protect you," he stated, then raised his head. "I knew that they would come for me. The Archive was compromised. The house was compromised. And… I had been compromised. There wasn't another way."

Silence hung between them for a moment while Tom mulled over Hal's perspective. But then Tom casually shrugged.

"Yeah, but none of that happened. You didn't. You've got Alex. And you got me and Allison. We're family, and we've got a great big house and there ain't no more Old Ones to worry 'bout. And we saved the Archive from being up on the news. All that's left for us now is a whole lot worth living for."

Hal gave a weary sigh then shook his head. "Tom, please never change."

"Well, I can't do nuttin bout that. Rook's offered me a job."

"And you've accepted?"

Tom shrugged. "It's just a side gig for now. He said werewolves will continue to seek me out after all this. He's probably right."

"Probably," Hal agreed. "As they should. You're a good teacher, Tom."

"Yeah, well," Tom ran his hand over his scars, embarrassed. "Me main job will be to make sure they know ways to transform safely. And to keep tabs on folk."

Hal gave a small huff. "Rook will turn us all into spies before long."


"Will your condition require a regular haunting of our corridors, Miss Millar?"

Dominic Rook's voice startled her out of a lean against Hal's door. At the sarcastic tilt of his sharp eyes, Alex resumed her slouch. Rook appeared better rested than when she had last seen him, asleep on their sofa. She wondered just how long her visibility was going to last. At times, she'd rather she were still invisible. At least then she wouldn't have to explain herself. But fortunately, she didn't have to.

Rook held up a pale hand. "It's no bother. Your presence is merely startling. I'm certain I will grow accustomed. You relieved the guard, I see. How is our charge?"

"Quiet, for now."

"The withdrawals for a vampire are quite biological," Rook stated bluntly, and Alex raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was getting at. "The first weeks anyway. Far as we knew, we weren't aware that it would change."

"Takes someone as stubborn as Hal I suppose," Alex shrugged.

"I suppose. Or else," Rook shrugged. "Experience. Practise with the transition."

Alex crossed her arms more firmly around herself, then looked down. "The transition to it being psychological, you mean."

"In a way. I doubt the urge and instinct ever really leaves him. We shall be curious to observe the process. He starves the vampire into remission, it seems."

Alex looked back up, perplexed by his choice of words. "Like… a cancer?"

"I suppose a parallel could be drawn," Rook answered thoughtfully. "When the body is dying - of cancer for instance - the organs eventually shut down. It actually takes more effort to process food, nourishment. A vampire is already dead, but fresh blood will trigger a renewal, and in turn an increased hunger. So the withdrawals, in a way -"

"Are like dying all over again," Alex concluded Rook's thought.

"He feels his death on endless repeat," Rook stated, staring through the heavy door. A silent pause passed between them before he hardened his jaw. "We would like to take an MRI this afternoon, so will need to sedate him.

"An MRI?" Alex stared at Rook. "Thought vampires didn't show up on film."

"An MRI is sound, not film. No one has survived being accurately staked before. We need to confirm there wasn't any hidden internal damage. For the Archive, I mean."

"I think Hal is physically fine, really," Alex assured. "Aside from hungry, of course."

"I was not asking," Rook rebutted bluntly, then cleared his throat. He quickly looked away. "If there is anything that you need, please call. Anytime."

Alex merely nodded, observing Rook's unspoken guilt before he turned to go. "There is one thing I've been thinking on," she said suddenly, and Rook paused. "Maggie told me… That you could always use the help. I may as well make myself useful while we're here."

Rook turned back to regard her with a quizzical expression. "You would have to be put through training."

"Okay."

"Oddly enough, I'm not sure who could train you," he pondered through narrowed eyes. "Your skillset is… unique."

"How 'bout just as any other bloke and we go from there?"

He observed her momentarily, then gave a terse nod. "I will consider your generous offer."

"Oh, no. It's not that generous," Alex opened her arms to pat imaginary pockets then smiled sweetly. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean you won't be paying me. We've bills to pay."

Rook smiled in turn, then shook his head, bemused. "Of course."

Her offer must have lowered Rook's inhibitions, for he broached another topic almost as an afterthought. "We're sending someone to Joanópolis. News of all this - the 'Revolution' - hasn't actually reached the Lobisomem, far as we can gather."

"And if news were to reach them?"

"We are working on placing another operative to mitigate. An actual werewolf this time," he stated.

"Milo?" Alex guessed with distaste. "But how can you trust him?"

"Yes, Milo. His motivations... have become transparent. He has already begun to cooperate."

"What about Davi? Why not ask him?"

"Ah, but Davi renounced his tribe, did he not?"

"Yeah, but his reasons…" Alex mused. "His father could have been possessed."

"Their Alpha? He was. Milo admitted as much," Rook said, then furrowed his brow. "Perhaps your first mission, Miss Millar, will be to inform Davi. It could be beneficial to have another checking in on the Lobisomem from time to time."

"Alright. I was going to pop up there to let them know what happened anyway."

"Are you certain that's wise? If Yorke is to truly disappear -"

"Carl's a genuine friend." Alex resumed her lean with a smile. "Trust me on that."

"As you wish," Rook conceded. "Am I correct to assume that you will still be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Report to my office for training at o'nine hundred."

"Alright," Alex smiled.

"Oh, and Millar?" Rook paused in his departure from the corridor. "Please refrain from any further teleportation of Type Twos, aside from Yorke."

"Why's that?"

"Maggie has to convince half of Finnegan's Inn that they didn't see several men appear out of thin air this morning."

"Oh! Good," Alex said with relief.

"No, not good. It was the height of brunch! Thankfully, they all left with haste. Reports say they appeared 'shook up.' Anyhow, best to be avoided in the future."

"Aye, Captain."

"And don't call me that."

"Aye aye," Alex winked. The hint of a blush lit on Dominic Rook's fair cheeks when he turned to go.

She shook her head as Rook's clipped footsteps retreated from the corridor, then glanced to Hal's door. With quick resolve, she pulled loose the handkerchief hidden inside her jacket. Her 'charge' immediately protested when she opened the door.

"You shouldn't be in here."

"Shush. I know when you're still you, you know," Alex said, leaving the door propped open. "And you're hurting."

Hal was curled in on himself, head as low as his restraints would allow. Alex wanted to fast forward. To when Hal would be Hal again. She didn't want to have to see him go through this. And yet, she couldn't seem to stay away. She unconsciously reached a hand towards him, but he immediately flinched. "Don't!" he said sharply.

Alex bit her lip and retracted her hand. Right. Contact between them would only make it worse for him. And she hated that. "Will nothing help?"

Weakly, Hal shook his head. He winced his eyes shut in obvious pain, and Alex was reminded of her conversation with Rook about the nature of vampire withdrawals. It had gotten her thinking. She remembered the dark days with her mother, towards the end of her life. There were times that if Alex could get her to talk, it would sometimes distract enough to help through the pain.

Alex dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged. "Can you tell me what it's like?"

"I want to claw through the concrete to get to them," Hal spat the words vehemently. "And I wish I could just fucking die."

"Um, yeah. Aside from that. How do you feel?"

"Like I've a lance to the gut and God is scraping His fingernails across the inside of my skull."

"Oh," she said awkwardly. After a pause, she mused, "Do you want a paracetamol?"

"Alex, please. Please, stop talking."

"Right," she said after a pause and stood up. Her experiment was an obvious failure. "I'll just be outside then." She started towards the door, but he spoke again, stopping her.

"I know why this happened," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"This?" She asked, not sure she followed him.

"Us. This." He nodded to the space between them. She felt the tug of his eyes. "It's because of this." He pulled against his bonds, then let his clenched fists fall. She was beginning to sense the shift in him, but still couldn't suss out if it was another one of his ploys.

"I've kept a hold of my humanity, even when it hurts like hell." He laughed darkly, then threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Fuck! This place. Alex, please," he pleaded without looking at her. Just like that, the flicker of her Hal was gone. From kind and kind-of-odd, back to 'His Lordship', Mr. Creepy-Shouty.

"We could be great," he concluded darkly.

Alex didn't even attempt a response as she backed out of the doorway and pulled the door shut. She barely had time to ponder what Hal had meant before she heard the approach of footsteps. Expecting Rook again, or Nave, she tucked the handkerchief away and straightened her posture. But when Rosanna came around the corner all full of sleek grace and not-dead, Alex's posture tensed to a fighting stance.

Rosanna just smiled, then turned the way she had come, saying, "You were right. She's here."

Richard Turner came up behind and placed his hand warmly on her arm.

"Miss Millar," he greeted.

"What's she doing here?" Alex demanded, fully blocking Hal's door. She'd knock the traitor clear off her heels if she had to.

"We've come to bid adieu," Richard answered calmly. "For now. There's work to be done." Richard gave Rosanna a not-so-gentle push forward. "And Zanna here wanted to apologise."

Rosanna did not appear like she wanted to do anything. But she turned from her glare at Richard to regard Alex. After a pause she said, "It's Alex, right?"

Alex was once again struck by how beautiful she was. She and Hal must have made quite the pair back in the fifties. All sleek and lethal. "You don't have to worry about me," Rosanna stated.

"Somehow I doubt that," Alex barbed.

Rosanna huffed, but then seemed to catch herself and softened. She took Richard's hand. "I will be making a new political alliance."

Richard gave a half-dimpled smile as Alex raised an eyebrow at the gesture. "Tell Henry that I'll look after her."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Alex asked the elder vampire.

Richard just shrugged. "Once you ascertain someone's motivations, they're not so complex," he answered, sounding a whole lot like Rook. Or Hal. "We'd appreciate Henry's counsel - once he is well enough to give it. I'll return when I can."

"You really think you can smooth it all over? About Hetty?"

"People believe what they want to. With Henry's... eccentricities and what happened to the rest of the Old Ones, most had already doubted his sanity. It's an easy enough story to spread."

"He's trusting you. Again."

"I am well aware," Richard answered plainly.

Rosanna put her finger to her pursed lips with a curious expression. "Mmm… does he still do that thing with the crème fraîche and the blindfold? I miss that."

"I haven't the faintest what you're on about," Alex growled, wishing the woman would just go away.

"Oo - touchy. You're missing out on his better side, love. That's too bad."

"Zanna," Richard interrupted. "Could you please give us a moment? I will meet you upstairs."

Rosanna raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between Richard and Alex. "Whatever you say, Turner." Her tone was miffed, but she heeded his request.

"Seriously?" Alex whispered as soon as the slinky vampire left the corridor. "You're trusting that? She would have turned Hal in!"

"And you've never had your mind changed?" Richard asked and Alex held his challenging gaze. "When Henry ruled London, there was a reason he chose her as consort."

"Beside the obvious?" Alex scoffed.

"Rosanna Bellante certainly has her charms," Richard smiled. "She was a bet, you see. Henry only pursued her because she had caught my fancy. He really has been an utter bastard at times," Richard laughed as he casually leaned against the wall. "They were an item for several years. Yet, he never could really get to her. Lord knows he tried! She was the perfect counterpoint to credulous Nick Cutler, at the time. It didn't matter what Henry did, who he killed or who he fucked. Rosanna was utterly unflappable. Until Henry died, that is. That's what finally did it. She was pretty broken up. Then finding out he had actually abandoned her after all this time? You really can't blame her for being a tit upset."

Alex's stomach dropped. As much as she loathed Rosanna, Alex had at least assumed Hal had been "with" her before he left with Leo. Rationally, Alex knew that Hal had been with loads of people. She was dead, so didn't really need to be concerned about her health. But the undercurrent of Richard's words revealed another piece of who Hal had been before he went clean. The violent and self-serving man she currently had tied to a chair inside a locked cell.

"I still don't trust her," was all Alex eventually said.

"Nor do I," Richard agreed candidly. "Nor will I. But we need her. At least, for now. And who knows - maybe I'll eventually win Henry's bet after all."

"What was the bet?"

"To see who could win her favour. I didn't stand a chance." Richard looked to the ceiling in mock woe. "Alas, Henry had no intention of keeping her, and I think Rosanna knew it. Which is why his loss left so much unfinished for her. They had been fighting. She had left that night with young Steven very publicly and loudly. It had been a stunner of a party of ours for the full moon - right before New Year's, it was." Richard's eyes took a far off quality in remembrance, then he shook his head. "For a time there were rumours that she killed him, but no one could prove it."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I've grown fond of you Miss Millar. Are you certain you know what you're doing?"

"I'm sure," she answered without hesitation.

Richard glanced to the locked door. "He's listening to us, you know."

"I know. So?"

"I haven't exactly been privy - but this is how he does it? Forced restraint? How long will it take?"

"Dunno. Last time was a few weeks but that was... erm," she stalled. "He'd had a lot less. Why?"

"In Rook's office this morning I had to catch myself. I pretended his crucifix still bothered me, but my suspicion is that he left it out as a test. Smart, that one. Going forth without Henry's counsel on this is… I am feeling a bit," he paused, seeking the right word. "Marooned."

"You can't feel him, can you?" Alex asked, then whispered, "Felipe?"

Richard looked away, pensive. "No. I feel mostly the same, honestly. Just… stronger. It makes me wonder about Henry."

"In what way?"

"If it is because of his power as an Old One that he can do this - go off blood with more success than any who have ever attempted."

"Think you might give it a go?" Alex was genuinely curious.

"Me? Gods no," he scoffed. "But then again, my appetite has grown a touch more civilised in my old age."

"Why is that, you think? Why does Hal have to be so extreme?"

Richard shrugged. "Why do some people become alcoholics? Vampirism hits some of us harder than others."

"Because Hal is an addict, you mean."

"Power. Gambling. Blood. He ran the gambit of just about everything to be addicted to. And then, one day he just walked away from all of it. One of his cycles, he calls them. But this time, I don't know. I'm not sure it's a cycle anymore."

"That's the hope," Alex echoed, her eyes darting to the locked door. "Can I ask you a personal question?" Alex braved, and he merely raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe in love, Mr. Turner?"

Richard blinked his surprise, then gave a hearty guffaw. "Me? Oh, did I ever! I believed clear until I didn't believe in anything anymore. It becomes more difficult for us weathered types, I fear."

"You mean, it's harder to fall for someone after there have been so many?" Alex said, thinking again about who Hal had been with Rosanna.

"No - not at all. That part's easy. Love is what's difficult. To truly love, one has to forgive. But to forgive ourselves? That becomes much harder as time wears on."

"So, you think all this is futile?"

Richard glanced to the locked door and shook his head slowly. "I've been thinking a lot on redemption," Richard continued. "Henry certainly seems to try. Even when he falls short, he finds a way to carry on. And he's been rather fierce about you, if you haven't noticed." Richard gave her a dimpled smile. "But… I wonder. Do you think Felipe had been capable of such change?"

Alex pursed her lips. By his very asking, her impression of Richard Turner lifted a little. He hadn't known exactly what his quest would cost until in the moment yesterday. Richard had chosen to become an Old One anyways, yet his doubt was evident. "Allison was pretty shook up over it," she admitted. "We spent a fair bit of time talking it through this morning. And I just keep coming back to Hal. He didn't seem to think Felipe could change."

"There are many who would have said the same of Henry last century," Richard countered. "Felipe pleaded to change."

"He pleaded, but," Alex paused and shook her head. "I don't think he really wanted to stop. I almost destroyed him myself, remember?"

"Something Henry saved you from, yes. I understand now why he protected you so feverently. Now that I know what it takes, I'm not certain there was any other candidate..." Richard let the thought trail. "I do feel a touch feral though. Perhaps it's a bit of the Lobisomem coming through," Richard pondered with a smile. "Henry had some rather entrenched history with Felipe, so I trusted his judgement."

"Do you know what had happened back then?"

"With the Lobisomem? Yes, though he doesn't speak of it often. We had been at war. The vampires had been on a mission to annihilate every last werewolf. For better or worse, Henry convinced Mr. Snow to allow some to remain. And here we all are. Such is the way of time," he said with a shrug, then levelled her with a deep gaze.

"So I've gathered. But what about Felipe?"

Richard glanced at the door, then shook his head. "Henry did what he always does. He did what had to be done. He charmed and moulded the young Felipe, promising immortality - which is a nearly a sure-fire way to create a ghost - then murdered him. He kept his promise by teaching the ghost possession in exchange for reports of the Lobisomem."

"Can any ghost learn how?"

"Yes," Richard answered reluctantly. "But I'd caution that you don't. Forcing your soul onto another is apparently a very nasty business. They typically end up shrieking mad. Poltergeisting and causing witch hunts and the like."

Alex swallowed, recalling the gaelstorm of that brief, eternal moment she had overtaken Hal. With Richard's words, she recognised what she had done. To stop Hal from fleeing into carnage, she did what she had to. She had jumped into him. She could see how someone with less history would be much easier to overcome. She also had a taste of the allure. For a ghost without Hangori abilities, it would be a direct pathway to touch, sensation, food and aliveness.

Through her silence, Richard was regarding her. "You are a brave lass, Alex Millar. To even attempt to conquer all that history."

It was almost as if he could read her thoughts, but then Alex realised he was merely returning the conversation to the present. "Says the man sponsoring Miss Thing," Alex scoffed good naturedly, breaking the serious mood. "So, I gotta ask. What is it with you and poisons? You're a 'weathered' vampire - what do you need help for?"

Richard laughed throatily. "Oh, come now. Not all of us are natural born killers! To be ruthless amongst sharks? It helps to have a hobby or two."

"A hobby?" Alex chuckled.

"To pass the time," Richard shrugged. "To make prey more docile. Enemies less athletic, you know. Henry was certainly amused by it when we met."

"Huh." Alex pondered with a smile. By her own reaction she recognised that she was developing a fondness for Richard Turner. "And Rembrandt, huh? You actually knew him?" she asked and Richard just shook his head with a wry smile.

"I met him in my youth. The painting was commissioned by a family friend as a gift," he shrugged. "Some say he discovered Rembrandt. Really, he just brought the Court's attention to a good artist. I haven't seen that painting in centuries. I thought it was lost, honestly."

"Rook hid it away again, didn't he?"

"As is for the best, I suppose. Henry was always after me about my collection. He said it would bring us trouble someday. I never could get him or any of the Old Ones to sit for that matter. Quite superstitious about their images being captured, the lot of them." Richard winked.

"He even told me that he wished you'd destroy them. I dunno though. I see the risk, but they're kind of cool."

"It has always been my own private Archive. Perhaps I should donate them here. Though I'd loathe to see them just catalogued away." Richard paused thoughtfully. "It is probably for the best that Henry is disappearing for awhile," he stated solemnly, returning the conversation to serious.

"Sure, but Hetty said it, right? There aren't a lot of folks left who know what Hal looks like. Not even a portrait," Alex smirked.

"Still, I'd be wary at the house if I were you. You'll need to be cautious of your comings and goings for some time."

"That at least I can do," Alex said with a nod.

"Well, please do get in touch if there's anything you require," Richard said warmly. "I am at your service." He straightened his posture, brushed off his sleeve then gave her a small salute before taking his leave.

Alex shook her head and watched him turn the corner. The staccato of his footsteps ascended the stairs, then faintly from above she could hear Rosanna chiding him for taking so long.

Alex smiled to herself and wished Richard Turner luck. He was going to need it.

She resumed her lean next to Hal's door and settled in for a long night of contemplating the revelations of the past few days. Where the future might lead them all was yet to be known, but Alex felt ready. Their household was no longer an enclave against the world, but a part of it. Each in their own way, they had become its guardians. To live apart from humanity had been one way to guard it, but to stand with humanity and still protect it? They had each been tested and proven worthy. By standing together - Hal, Tom, Allison, herself, the Department, Richard and even Rosanna - the secrets of the supernatural world had been kept.

Alex just hoped this fought-for sense of peace would last.