The Royal Flush

By: Racetrack's Goil

Author's Note: Hey, hey, I'm finally back. Thanks for all your kind reviews concerning my mom. She's still very sick, but recently has been getting gradually better.

This chapter is pretty fast-paced…but I'm rather afraid I wrote it in a slap-dash way. I dunno how it is; tell me what you think. It's been so long since the last update so you might wanna re-read some stuff if you don't remember. I certainly had to.

UBER NOTE: I made a Ace of Hearts video! Check it out! Some clips have awful quality, 'cos they were quite hard to find. There are a few references to the story, so see if you can catch them. The video is in the site of my profile. The part where it says Homepage. Somehow it won't let me link here. Gah. Anyway...

Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the movie is not mine.

Enjoy!

August 10, 1899

Dear Diary,

Well.

I'm not really sure how to start. It's past midnight now and I still can't sleep. Today was just…bizarre.

Cat's alive, not dead, like I had assumed at first, but she's in a bad way. She has this really yucky, long wound that actually isn't that deep, but goes from her jaw across to her other shoulder. Pike said that the knife meant to go for her neck but she probably twisted away to try and avoid it. The gash itself isn't exactly that bad, but the thing is it's got infected. She's in a fever. Half-delirious.

It all seems unreal, you know. Cat was always calm, composed, and efficient. Of all the Brooklynites, she seemed to be the one who could take care of herself the most. Then she got herself stabbed.

It's awful. We don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. And Spot…

I sighed and looked over at the figure on the bunk across of mine. Cat was moaning and I could see beads of sweat covering her face. Above me, Artemis moved restlessly and I could tell that I wasn't the only one who was unable to sleep. I turned back to my diary and sighed again, the light from my candle waning.

"Duke…"

I dropped the pen in my surprise and stared at Cat, who was tossing and turning. Of course, I knew it was Duke who had done this to her. But hearing it coming from her lips gave me a nasty jolt. Why did he try to kill her? As some sort of sick message? Or, maybe he just recognized her and used his knife anyway.

Thinking about it made my stomach turn. I gritted my teeth as I stood up and went to the washroom. Getting a piece of rag that looked relatively clean, I went to Cat and wiped her forehead, trying to cool her off. Yeah, so what if Brooklynites don't usually show tenderness. I don't care. At this point, honestly, who could care?

She seemed to relax, just a little, from the coolness of the cloth. I kept it on her forehead, biting my lip. I tried to avoid looking at the wound, but it was hard, because it was so…there. It looked terrible; an awful, puckered sort of redness showing how badly infected it was. It had stopped bleeding, but we hadn't been able to get the blood stains out of her clothes so it still looked dreadful. I looked at her face, hating how it was contorted with pain.

I never talked to her before, other than an occasional hello, or a brief 'question/answer' moment. In fact, I'd never seen her talk to anyone but Spot and Kid Blink.

Oh.

Kid Blink. Does he know?

We hadn't had the time. Perhaps tomorrow. Nothing could be done tonight.

My thoughts unconsciously wandered back. My brother had been stabbed too. And no, I don't remember it as though it were yesterday. It's all rather hazy. People don't like remembering bad memories, and I had been very young then. But I do remember how he just…died. No dramatic last words. No meaningful, expressive last looks. He just closed his eyes and stopped breathing. It had been such a cruelly simple and real death, yet at the same time so surreal.

Cat, on the other hand…

Well, I'm not going to lie. I don't know her well and I wasn't a friend. I wasn't taking care of her because I liked her very much; I was doing it simply because she was one of us. That's all. I would be sad if she died. But I wouldn't be wrecked up with tears. And even though I hated myself for it, it was the blunt, blunt truth.

And yet, despite her odd seclusion from us, she was, in her own, quiet way, a loyal friend. Not to specific people, like how you have best friends. But to us all, generally and equally. Maybe that's why I didn't consider her a friend to me, specifically. She treated everyone the same way. Or did she? Once again, I wondered what kind of a person Cat was. Perhaps, when all this was over, I'd try to find out. That is, if she…

We all knew that without proper help, Cat didn't have a chance.

Oh, bother it all.

"Still alive?"

I whirled around in surprise and saw Artemis, a bland expression on her face. Her brusque question startled me and I felt a slight rise of annoyance, then I saw how tense her shoulders were, how her eyes looked suspiciously too widely uncaring, and how she was fidgeting with her usually calm and deft fingers – the ones that nimbly slipped watches, necklaces, purses right off of people – behind her back.

"Yeah," I replied finally, turning back to Cat. "No change."

There was a long pause as she drew nearer and looked at the unconscious girl.

"Ironic."

"What is?"

"Dat Duke stabbed her."

"Why?"

"'Cos he was da only one who knew how to deal with injuries. Every borough has someone who knows, sorta like a doctor. Manhattan has Specs. Queens has Professor," she gestured vaguely, "Duke was Brooklyn's."

"Oh. A general, all-round fellow, huh?"

"Cat never liked him," she suddenly snarled. "Even when he joined. I didn't either."

I didn't say anything, but her words reminded me of the look on Spot's face when he saw Cat. Among everything that was happening, that look had scared me the most. He had seemed like he was beyond reasoning. I wouldn't put it behind him to go to Queens and rip it apart to find Duke.

Behind me, I heard Pithon slide down from her bunk to land on near us. "She's not gonna die."

Both Artemis and I made vague noises of agreement. "She won't," she repeated. Pithon furiously gritted her teeth, clenching her fists. "She won't."

I went to my bunk and sat there for a second, leaving Artemis and Pithon to stand awkwardly near Cat. One would think that a rough life like this would make them used to death and injuries and whatnot. Maybe you'd think that even I, who have seen my share of blood, would be immune to all this. But then I wasn't. Neither were they. And I think that's good. That's human, you know. If you numb yourself up to pity and sorrow, what kind of a person would you be?

All of a sudden, I felt a nagging jab in the back of my mind. A thought…a remark, a notion I had had in my thoughts…

…We all knew that without proper help, Cat didn't have a chance.

Why, of course.

You're an idiot, Ace. An utter fool. I shot to my feet, my heart already beating faster with urgency. The answer to save Cat was so very ordinary.

Find a doctor!

Honestly! Why didn't I or anyone realize it sooner? Sure, I knew that we couldn't possibly pay for it, even if we put all our money together. But at this point I didn't care. Somehow I'd find a doctor and make him come and help Cat. I must, must, must.

Artemis and Pithon were staring at me. I suppose I must have looked rather frantic. I snatched my cloak, fairly yelling out, "I'm going out. Watch her until I come back or I shall murder you," I stormed for the door and hollered over my shoulder, "I'll be right back."

I trotted down the stairs and burst into the dimly-lit street. It was empty as expected; who would be out at a time like this? It must be one in the morning. Would I be able to persuade a doctor to come for Cat?

More importantly, will I be able to find a doctor in the first place? I had no idea whatsoever where he might live. Perhaps Spot might know, but he had disappeared since we had heard the news. The others…

Well. The thing was, I wasn't sure whether they'd help me. I wasn't sure if they'd agree with the idea of finding a doctor. Brooklynites were oh so very proud, and I couldn't imagine them agreeing to begging for help, even if it was to save Cat. And did they really know where a doctor would be? They had no need of one; they used to have their own, right?

I paused, frowning. But that was stupid. Of course they'd do anything to help Cat. I was about to turn back around, cursing myself for wasting time, but then I stopped again.

If they did agree to help me, they'd want to come along. And…well, frankly, as uncomfortable as I was in negotiating with adults, the other would be downright awful. I could just see Pike or Jackal punching the doctor for refusing. I winced inwardly and went on. It would be best to go alone.

Then I stopped in my tracks, my eyes growing wide.

Unless…

I knew someone who wouldn't, like the others, end up soaking the doctor into helping Cat. Someone who'd be much better than I, in fact, in persuading him to come.

Philip. Philip Danford.

Did I dare? Did I dare ask it of him?

At this point, I couldn't afford to be afraid of his answer. I couldn't make gambles on Cat's life. If anyone, Philip would definitely be able to talk to an adult civilly and persuasively. Surely he would be able to succeed in where I or the others would not.

I set my jaw determinedly and narrowed my eyes. If I was to make this work, I had to take the whole thing step by step. First off: Find Philip. The second was to ask him to help me and it certainly was the worst part, but I decided not to think of it until I got there. Even if I did manage to think up some persuasive speech, I'd most probably forget it all anyway.

The rest ought to be easy. Well, not easy, but Philip would, I hoped, take it from there.

The streets of Brooklyn seemed strangely unfamiliar at this time of night, what with the flickering, dim lamps casting dark shadows everywhere and muddling my sense of direction. I began walking, casting aside my doubts. I vaguely remembered how to get there and I could do nothing but hope.

The narrow, maze of alleys didn't quite scare me as I continued on. Still, I tucked my hair inside my hat to pass off as a boy. Alleys were dangerous, especially at this time of the night. Any fool knows that and I wasn't going to be one by taking stupid risks.

I felt as though I was in a numb, surreal state, as though the fact that I was walking at night in Brooklyn was only a dream. Have you ever felt that sometimes? Like…have you ever gone outside when it's way past midnight and found the world changed? If you haven't, then you probably don't understand how I felt. But if you have…imagine that, yet with the pressures of knowing that someone's life was practically in your hands.

Terrifying, no?

No one stopped me as I walked along. This in itself, I marveled inwardly, was something of a miracle. Maybe I was being Helped. Indeed, I did feel oddly as though I was being pulled along by some unseen force in the direction of Queens. It was odd. A small part of me sneered and told me that I was being quite ridiculous. But the whole situation seemed truly bizarre and quite unreal.

Of course, everything snapped to reality when I found myself standing the exact same street where I had been just the other day. Another miracle, I told myself, and silently thanked whoever had helped me.

Perhaps it was you, dear reader. Maybe it was. Whoever is reading this, wherever you are…thank you.

…

Tche. Of course it wasn't you. I only wrote that to sound cool, like I've seen some people do in their books before.

Anyway, I paused in the middle of the completely different street, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Then I began tracing my steps of yesterday back to the Queens LH, when Skinny and Stocky had forced me to go. My brow furrowed with concentration, I headed down the street.

That was where my luck ran out. I went one way and then another, knowing that I had no idea where I was going. Queens was completely unfamiliar to me, even more unfamiliar than Brooklyn's alleys. The fact that I had been busy trying to fight off S&S the last time I was here also added to my lack of direction. But I walked and walked and walked, not allowing myself to give up.

Five minutes later, it began to drizzle. Two minutes later, it was raining heavily and I was decidedly dejected. I scowled up at the sky and, not for the first time, wondered whether I ought to just give up and go back. Of course, I didn't. But I did seriously consider it, just for a split second. I stopped there at the sidewalk and exhaled heavily, leaning against a wet lamppost for a breather. I closed my eyes, telling myself that I'd have to get going, that I couldn't stay out here in the rain for too long…

Suddenly, a hand grasped my arm and jerked me forward.

My eyes flew open as I was pulled away from the light of the lamppost and pushed against the store wall with enough force to knock all the breath out of me. I cried out loud from both surprise and the sudden, tremendous pain, wincing as the sharp, uneven bricks buried into my back. I was shoved again, this time harder, and a strong arm pushed up against my neck, cutting off my air.

Naturally, I panicked. Who was this?? What did I do?! And most importantly, why was he trying to strangle me?

I flapped around pathetically and grabbed at the arm, making stupid, ineffective sounds of indignation and protest. Once I managed to start a scream, but he covered that up with his other hand. Black spots began appearing in my vision and I was seriously scared. I was going to die.

What an awful way to go; and without even seeing the face of my killer. I gritted my teeth and struggled one last time. All I managed to do was cause my hat to fall over and hit the wet ground with a soft splat. I barely noticed, because now my freed hair was in my face and it was not helping.

But suddenly, my dark attacker froze and made a startled sound. His pressure on my throat remained for only a second longer before easing off immediately. I coughed as life-giving air entered my lungs. He slowly stepped back and whispered disbelievingly, "Ace?"

Whoever he was, he sounded horrified. He swore vehemently under his breath and took my face with surprisingly gentle hands. I wasn't exactly aware enough to appreciate it though, because the world kept lurching.

For what seemed an eternity, I was too out of breath and stunned from the unexpected assault that my body refused to react. Maybe I blacked out or something. It was all kinda hazy. I thought I felt the evil attacker-suddenly-turned-to-good brush back my wet, tangled hair away from my face and repeat my name, but I wasn't sure.

However, when I did manage to force my eyes open, all my reflexes, which had previously chosen to fall asleep, returned. Not immediately, of course. I groaned and moaned for a second. I muttered inaudible things. The guy shook me awake. Then my eyes sort of cleared and I saw him, just crouching there in front of me, his features still unrecognizable in the dark. I squawked in alarm and swung out wildly.

He easily caught my arm and asked sharply, "Are you alright?"

I froze and squinted in the darkness, trying to see him. His voice…I caught my breath. I knew this guy. The knowledge struck me speechless for a few seconds until I finally choked out hoarsely: "Philip?"

"Are you alright?" he repeated and I nodded, amazed at my unbelievably good luck. Or was it luck?

He seemed to let out a breath. Before I could speak though, he went all rigid and tense. He quickly stood up, dragging me up by the arm. "What are you doing here?" he hissed exasperatedly, shaking me rather roughly. "Didn't you realize how dangerous it was from your last visit? And," he gritted out, "Don't even try telling me that you got lost again."

My mouth dropped open with surprised indignation at his brusque manner. I must have looked like a shocked hippo. I shoved at him and sputtered with anger as it did no good. "Of all the…why, you're the one who tried to kill me!" I swallowed and massaged my throat, glowering at him and quite forgetting that I was here to ask him for help. "And," I tossed back my head and said icily, "Last time I did get lost."

He made a frustrated sound and turned away abruptly, letting me go as he moved towards the lamppost.

I continued to rub my injured throat, more than just mildly surprised that instead of pouring out apologies like I expected him to, he seemed almost upset with me. Why was he angry anyway? I was the one who was standing here with mud all over my pants and my throat feeling like some enormous person had pranced about on it.

What was he doing out here in the rain? Had he been waiting for someone?

The silence grew unbearable and I simply couldn't stand it. I looked down at my wet shoes, which were soaked right through to my toes. I moved them uncomfortably and then looked at Philip. "Why are you angry at me?"

He rested an arm against the lamppost, and roughly ran a hand through his hair irritably. "I'm not angry," he muttered and I scowled skeptically at his back. He looked down, still not turning around. I heard him sigh heavily before he threw me a sharp look over his shoulder and repeated, "Whatare you doing here?"

"Why did you strangle me?" I threw back, knowing we weren't getting anywhere by accusing each other, but I was still upset. I reached behind my back and carefully felt where he had bruised me, grimacing at the tight streaks of pain that shot through my body.

He turned around then and I caught my breath. His face was haggard and his dark eyes looked haunted and terrified. My angry words faltered in my throat.

"Ace," he said, his voice lower than usual, "I know what you're thinking. But, I don't know what I'd have done if…," to my horror, he stumbled over his words, "I mean, if…if you had…," he took in a deep breath and stared at me. I stared back as I finally realized he was upset because he was just as shaken as I was.

Or was it just that? Could it be that something else was upsetting him? What had happened since the last time we met?

The silence stretched on and all we could hear was the soft pat pat of the rain upon the cobbled sidewalks. He looked away and I shifted, my own anger beginning to fade away.

He looked away and then met my eyes again. "I am sorry, Ace."

Whatever was left of my irritation deflated with a woosh. However, in its place came questions. Who had he thought I was then? I remembered how frighteningly efficient he had been. It made me shiver. Now that was one way I did not ever want to die.

And I hadn't known…well, to be honest, I had no clue Philip had a ruthless side. Hmm. Suddenly, the thought of originally asking him for help didn't seem such a good idea.

I wavered.

Then I inwardly slapped myself. What was I doing? I had come this far. Cat's life was on the line. Our feelings at this moment didn't matter. We couldn't afford to waste time by distrusting each other or being awkward.

"It was a mistake. And I'm alright. Forget about it. It never happened," I forced a grin, "I guess we both scared each other, huh?"

Somehow my remark made him quirk a smile, but he didn't seem to relax one bit. He didn't reply or say anything, and instead remained silent, waiting for me to answer his repeated question. I took my advice then and decided to pretend it had never happened. Still, I had to resist the urge to duck my head to hide my reddening face when I stepped towards him into the rain.

"I was looking all…all," I sneezed abruptly and explosively at the sudden chill. He watched me through impassive eyes and I blushed as I finished sheepishly, "Ahem. All over for you."

He narrowed his eyes and his face darkened visibly. "Why? At 2 in the morning? And in the rain," he repeated, "Don't you realize how much danger you put yourself in?"

I peered up at him, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Once again, he seemed almost angry. With me? Or himself? Or both? I clenched my jaw determinedly. I wasn't going to give up. The real problem now was Cat, and her life was ticking away with every minute we wasted.

"Look," I said sharply, "I said forget about it. It was an accident. I'm fine, see? So stop it. You're making all of this very awkward."

The flinty look in his eyes didn't disappear. "All of what?" He still looked haggard and guilt-ridden-shocked-stunned, but I could see he was beginning to be suspicious. "Why are you here, Ace? Truly."

I tried to explain, but another sneeze burst out of me. He glanced around across the street and then exhaled sharply. "Listen," he said, "Let's get you inside. Then you can tell me what it's all about."

All I could do was sniffle and shake my head. "No," I refused earnestly, "I can't. I can't waste any more time. Listen…you mentioned Cat the other day, do you remember?"

His eyes narrowed even further and he nodded, his eyes still suspicious. "What about her?"

My words began tumbling out with no particular eloquence or order, just all a jumble of mixed emotions forming themselves into awkward sentences. I explained what had happened to her and what the problem was. I told him about how he was the only one I could think of who could help.

"You understand, don't you? And I don't know who else might be better at persuading the man to come, especially 'cos we don't have any money. The others will be terrible at it and I can't risk them ruining the chances for Cat, even if they don't mean it. Adults would listen to you and…and…," I trailed off before sneezing again. I wiped my face with my sleeve and looked at him. "Please, Philip. I don't know who else can help me here. I can't give up without even trying."

His face was so emotionless during my whole story that I almost wished for a bad reaction instead of this calculating, evaluating gaze. It was as though he was dissecting my words for any faults or traps. "What about Conlon?" he asked finally.

I shook my head again. "He's disappeared. I think he's gone to find Duke."

Philip raised his eyebrows and for the first time, he looked interested. "Duke?"

"Yeah…oh, it's a long story. Too long. But he's the one whose stabbed Cat."

"I see."

I was scared that he was going to say no. Terrified, in fact, and I had a nasty feeling I showed it. "Say you'll do it," I pleaded, "Do say you will. I know we aren't very good friends or anything and I know you've already done so much for me, but Cat's gonna die unless you help and-," I stopped abruptly at his prolonged silence. I bit my lip.

He wasn't going to do it.

Why should he, anyway? I thought, forcing myself to see it from his point of view. Unfortunately, I ended up seeing myself rambling on and on, and I soured, embarrassed and uncomfortable at how he just stood there without a reaction.

"Well. Well, at least," I muttered, trying to sound like I was being accepting instead of coldly disappointed. "At least tell me that you won't right now so I can get started on my own," "Like I said, I can't waste any time. Or…or any of yours."

To my surprise, he smiled in the rain. "Ace," he murmured, "When will you ever realize that you have never been a waste of my time?"

Thinking back, that remark should have knocked me off my feet by its implications. But at the moment, I was just trying to puzzle over what he meant. "Is that…is that a yes?" I asked breathlessly, both dreading and longing for the answer.

"It is," he said simply.

"Oh!" I threw my arms around him, beaming all over and grinning from ear to ear. "You are simply splendid, Philip. You really are."

He gave a surprised laugh. "Now that's something no one hasn't call me before…"

I stepped back and said mock-seriously, "Accept it. It's a noble adjective."

He quirked another smile, but didn't say anything other than an amused, "Alright." He walked over, picked up my hat from the ground, and handed it to me with a rather heart-stoppingly attractive smile. "Your life-saver."

"Yeah. Always is, isn't it?" I took it, but didn't put it on.

Well.

Philip didn't seem to want to waste any more time. Whether it was worry for Cat or to get back to that street to kill the real guy, I didn't know and didn't really want to know. We started off immediately, at a breathless pace that had me in a half-run.

We were both rather silent. He did give me his cloak though and told me that when I got back, I had to change out of my clothes or I'd die of pneumonia. Actually, he offered to take care of the whole Cat business himself and that I could go back home. But I was having none of that.

It was barely ten minutes until we were standing in front of a nondescript house. It looked like any other house, except for the name at the door. Philip rung the bell purposely and I stole a sideways glance at him. His hair kept plastering itself to his forehead and from time to time he kept sweeping it back with his hand. Now though, he didn't seem to care. It was as though he was narrowing all his focus onto this one purpose.

He was one of those people, I mused, who, once they set their mind to it, would never veer off from their task. I knew then that I did the right thing. Cat was going to be okay.

Philip rang the bell again and stonily waited.

"Do you think they'll answer?" I asked tentatively, after a long moment passed.

Philip's mouth curved upwards into a satirical sort of smile and he looked down at me. "They will."

Then he began banging away at the door, ignoring the civilized bell this time. He looked almost as though he was trying to break his way inside the house. He started shouting, "Doctor O'Connell! We need to see you! Doctor O'Connell!"

I blinked with surprise at this sudden, violent method. Then I joined in, adding my voice to his and shrieking hoarsely, "Doctor O'Connell!"

Irish? I wondered vaguely. O'Connell. Sounds Irish. The 'O' part.

I think we woke up the entire neighborhood with our bellowing and banging before the door finally opened. The man standing before us looked seriously sleepy, but he managed to blear out, "What do you want?" His green eyes blinked out at us from behind glasses. "Who are you?"

I peered at him curiously. He didn't look at all like a doctor. In fact, he looked more of a mad scientist, with his brown hair all over the place and his enormous spectacles perched on top of his rather largish nose.

Philip calmly stuck out a hand. "Sir, I am sorry to wake you up at such an untimely hour, but I'm afraid we desperately need your help. My name is Philip Danford."

The mad scientist stared at the hand absently. He peered at Philip again and then took his hand in a brief, distrustful handshake. "Help? What sort of help?"

"Your medical skills, naturally," Philip swallowed and gestured to me, "My sister here has a friend who is terribly injured."

Sister?!

He continued on, "I'm afraid she's very close to death...You must come immediately. She has been stabbed, and we don't know what to do. Please aid us, sir."

The doctor drew back and smiled a rather sad smile. "I'd do anything to help anyone in need. But…but I'm afraid I simply cannot make it tonight. Maybe…maybe tomorrow morning."

"But sir-"

"I'm a generous man," he said vaguely, nodding at me and giving a little embarrassed laugh, "I'd do anything for children. Here," he disappeared for a moment, leaving us standing there dumbly. He came back quickly, with something in his hand. "This should help you."

He placed two dimes into Philip's hand and nodded, laughing that infuriating laugh again, "Now, come back tomorrow, hmm?" He yawned and began closing the door on us.

He wouldn't be here tomorrow morning. He'd make sure that he wouldn't be here.

Rage coursed through my veins. How could anyone be so heartless? How could anyone assume that we were so shallow as to leave them alone after a couple of dimes? And how could he just ignore the fact that there was someone dying? Or did he think we were lying? Just because…just because we were in a class lower than his or…because we were kids without money.

How cruel was that? How simply pathetic! He deserved to…to…why…

"Shame on you," I blurted out.

"Eh?" Doctor O'Connell stared at me, stopping in mid-chuckle.

Oops. Did I say that outloud? Philip closed his eyes for just a second, as if in despair.

"I…I said…," I stammered, and then I looked at the man's blank, absent face. There was no getting out of this. I gritted my teeth, "I said, 'Shame on you.'"

"Ace," Philip ground out.

"Your name…is Ace?"

"No," I cut him off, starting to get riled up at his condescending tone, "It isn't. It's Ashley Benette."

Philip's eyes widened. "It is?"

I ignored him. "That makes it all better, doesn't it? A real, 'civilized' name, don't you think? But you don't think at all about us, don't you?"

"I thought doctors are supposed to care about saving lives, no matter whose lives they are. But you…why, you're just pathetic. You're just a coward," I scoffed, "I know it's late, I know we can't possibly afford to pay you. And you think you can just make us leave you alone by…by….," Words failed me. I grabbed the coins from Philip and slung it back, glaring heatedly. "There. We don't need your old money."

"What she means is-"

"Shh," O'Connell said, his green eyes suddenly flickering with sharp interest.

I had been ready to go on riling at him, but his interest suddenly made me stop. I shook my head. "Actually, we will pay you with all we have. You know that."

"No…," he peered at the two of us, that sharpness in his eyes disappearing again. "I'm afraid you already did pay me."

"Don't be absurd," I snapped, irritated. "Don't be idiotic and say that I made you 'see the light.' We'll pay you. Just come." Then I did a double take. "What? You…you are coming?"

He didn't smile or look thoughtful or anything. He just looked as vague as ever. "An interesting child…quite interesting."

He leaned down and took the dimes I had thrown back. "This should be enough."

Then he shuffled back into the house.

I exchanged nervous glances with Philip. Was this Mad Scientist a little…er…cuckoo? Or was he serious? Could he be serious? Did I make him change his mind? But he didn't seem embarrassed or amused or thoughtful or anything. He just looked as absent-minded and vague as ever.

"He is a doctor, isn't he?" I whispered to Philip.

"Of course. Only doctors are gullible enough to believe that you're my sister."

I choked back a laugh. "You're terrible. I thought doctors are smart."

"Not this one."

Then he said, "Looks like you didn't need me after all."

"That's not true. You brought me here."

"Hmm."

A pause.

"Thanks, Philip. For everything," I grinned impishly, "Except for strangling me."

He laughed. At least it was beginning to become a joke now.

O'Connell came back, dressed and carrying a large black bag. He still didn't look like a doctor.

But he was coming. I still couldn't believe it. It was only when we started off when I realized he actually was serious. It was just he…he had changed his mind so fast. Maybe I woke up him properly with that little talk. Whatever it was, I was sure it couldn't have been that thing about money.

Philip left us after we reached Brooklyn. I knew why, but he told the Doctor that he was going to go inform Cat's family. It made sense, I suppose. I uncomfortably led the man down the dark streets of Brooklyn, aware of his labored breathing and his silence. I didn't like him and I suppose he didn't like me either. I saw him glancing at my bruised neck from time to time, but he said nothing. I was glad.

When we reached the LH, I woke everyone up by bellowing, "There's a doctor here to see to Cat!"

And everyone did wake up. Some of them stared suspiciously at him, but most of them thanked him profusely. O'Connell murmured 'Your welcomes' and 'My pleasures' and then with that sudden sharpness I had seen before, sent everyone out of the room Cat was in.

I was up all night. We all were. Meantime, they asked me how I managed to get him to come. Did I bribe him? Did I have a stash of money hidden somewhere? Did I threaten him? How had I found him? What on earth had happened to your neck?!

I gloriously took all the credit and concocted a story about 'encountering a drunkard', 'knocking him unconscious', 'following my instincts', 'firmness of mind', and 'looking at him directly in the eye.' Tee hee.

The only thing was…Spot still wasn't here.

August 11, 1899

Dear Journal,

I'm so tired…I could just fall asleep right now. But I won't. I've got to write this down.

I've decided that people like O'Connell aren't all that bad. They like to slither out of things, but when they don't, they do their job well. They just don't notice the importance of things sometime. This time, thankfully, O'Connell did.

Cat woke up once and was aware of the fact that I was staring at her. She gave me a puzzled, sarcastic look before falling back asleep. Yeah, well, she wasn't a talkative person.

A sort of warmth swept over me as I looked over at Cat. Her fever had cooled down and she was breathing easier now. She was going to be alright. She was going to be alright.

And I had helped her, with Philip's help. What a night! A swell of pride filled me and I turning back to my journal.

Cat survived the night. O'Connell said if she does, she'll be fine.

I guess he was a doctor after all, and not a mad scientist.

I wonder who Philip thought I was when he tried to strangle me.

I wonder when Spot's going to come back.

I wonder if Philip is coming to the dinner.

I wonder if Spot found Duke.

Author's Note: The hardest part in this chapter to write was figuring out the character for O'Connell. I was going to make him a vehement, nasty sort. Then I figured that's too typical. Then I was going to make him a kind guy. But then that just didn't fit. So he ended up becoming an irresponsible, slither-outing (Howl's Moving Castle term. Lol.) coward.

By the way, this chappie has a lot of hints. :D

Do review!