A/N: Some of the dialogue in this chapter was taken from The Shadow Cabinet, which of course belongs to the wonderful Maureen Johnson. Those words are in bold.

Chapter 4: The Lies We Weave

The flat was eerily silent as I sorted through the books, analyzing and overanalyzing the paintings at the kitchen table. So quiet, you could hear a pin drop. But somehow, the silence was deafening. Like I was waiting to hear someone speak or come walking down the hall and it just never happened. It was the kind of silence that could drive you insane. I was just considering hopping up to turn on some music when I felt pain.

Sudden, searing pain.

Looking down, my right arm was leaking blood from a slice in my skin. It was running down my arm into my palm and dripping on the linoleum. The gash stretched from my elbow to my wrist and it was bleeding at a rate that scared me.

"That looks painful," a voice spoke up and when I raised my head, Sid was sitting beside me, a letter opener in his hand. "Want me to do it again?"

"Why are you doing this," I begged, but before he could answer, I was aware that we were not alone in the apartment.

The open floor plan allowed me to see the sofa from the kitchen and on it sat Stephen, his eyes void of emotion and focused on me. I wanted to run to him, but the pain in my arm had me frozen.

"He won't help you," Sid told me, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek. "All he'll do is lie. Do you remember his lies?"

"Stephen doesn't always share everything, but he doesn't lie!"

"Oh, doesn't he?"

My mind wondered to a sunny afternoon, where Stephen and I were spread out on a grassy lawn. I was curious and angry, but I couldn't remember what we had been discussing. His eyes had looked so tragic. So sad. But when had that happened?

"Rory," Sid called out, his hand slipping down to the inside of my thigh. "He'll only lie to you. I would never lie to you. Trust me, and I'll tell you everything he never would."

"Rory," a different voice called, and suddenly, I was shaking.

"Rory! Rory, wake up!"

My head shot up from the table and my eyes shot nervously around the kitchen, searching for any sign of Sid, but he was gone. Instead, Stephen was kneeling on the ground, face close to mine and filled with worry.

"What happened? Where is he," I asked, but this only increased Stephen's furrowed brow.

"Rory, you were asleep."

Looking down, I saw I was still sitting hunched over the kitchen table with the books spread out around me. I felt oddly light-headed.

"It's three in the morning," Stephen explained, his hand light on my back. "Why don't you go to bed?"

"To bed? Three in the morning?" It was then that I noticed he was still in uniform. "Did you just get in?"

"Yeah. A car accident near Spitalfields. I offered to help direct traffic. What is all this anyway?"

He was pointing at the books before me, and as I gazed down, I remembered why I'd stayed up so late looking at them. "The paintings," I explained. "They all match. They're part of a… of a bigger painting."

My voice sounded heavy and slow to my own ears and the more I stared down at the books, the more the words on the pages bled together. Stephen stared curiously at the pictures in the books, trying to make sense of them. So far, I'd only matched up three, but I guessed there were more.

"A bigger picture. And you think this might be important?" But Stephen sounded like he was asking this question to himself… or maybe I thought that because I could hardly hear him. He was speaking so quietly.

"I think I want to go back to sleep," I mumbled. My head was so heavy, I feared it would topple from my shoulders. Trying to stand, I only succeeded in leaning back in the chair.

"Rory! What happened?!" There was shock and fear in Stephen's voice now and when I looked down, I saw why.

I was covered in blood.

"Your arm," Stephen said, his voice trembling slightly. I'd never heard his voice tremble. He pulled my right arm to him and just like in the dream, there was a gash from my elbow to my wrist. In my left hand, I held the letter opener. "How did you do this? Rory?"

But my vision was starting to go, black spots appearing before my eyes. I could hardly see the wound now. "I… I don't know. I don't remember getting… getting a… letter opener. I don't…"

"Rory!"

Stephen's voice sounded so urgent. Suddenly, he was gone. I wanted to shout for him, to beg him not to leave me, but I couldn't force my lips to move. Before I could panic, he was back, wrapping gauze around my arm to stem the blood flow. I had no idea how long I'd been bleeding, but I could feel how saturated my pants and shirt were. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered how bad this was, but I couldn't dredge up the right amount of fear.

And then I was in Stephen's arms, resting my head on his shoulder and breathing in the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of his aftershave. I now didn't care what was wrong with me, as long as I could stay like this. He was holding me so tight against him.

"Just hold on," he begged, and I felt the cold. We were outside. "I'll get you to the hospital as fast as I can, Rory. Please, just hold on. Stay awake!"

I whimpered when he sat me in the passenger seat of his police car, desperate to have his arms back, and he draped his jacket over me. For a second – or maybe more than a second – my eyes slipped closed and when I opened them again, we were flying down the road. Stephen was swerving in and out of traffic, cursing under his breath, with the sirens blaring. The last time I'd seen him this frazzled was when he'd driven his car in front of Jane's, and even then he seemed more in control.

"Rory, stay awake. Talk to me."

I made some sighing noise in response and he hit the gas harder.

"Tell me a story," he begged. "Something from home."

Digging through my brain, which felt like a thick soup, I tried to come up with a story he might like. Anything coherent at all.

"We sp… spent the night… in… in Kroger's once." My voice was so slow and quiet, I wasn't sure he could hear me. "Me and… uh… Derek. It… it was a d… dare."

"That's the grocery store, right?"

"Uh-huh. We… we played mu… music all night. A… and we… um…"

"And what, Rory?" Stephen was shouting now, his hand warm on my face, brushing back my hair. "Rory? What happened next?"

But I couldn't make my mouth move anymore. It took too much effort. And I was so sleepy. Why couldn't I just go to sleep? His jacket was so warm and it smelled like him and with his hand on my face, I just wanted to sleep.

"Rory! Don't go to sleep! Wake up, please!"

And then there was darkness.

~SoL~

"…really think this is a bad idea." Someone was muttering close to my head.

"I had no choice."

"You should have called me first. We're lucky I was able to push the paper work through in time."

"I couldn't call you! She was bleeding to death!"

Arguing. Two people were arguing very close by my head. Their voices were familiar, but it felt like I had cotton in my ears.

"How did this happen anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but… I think she did it to herself." Stephen. I was certain that was Stephen. Slowly, I pried my eyes open, thankful that the lighting was low. To my left, I saw Stephen hunched over in a chair, looking exhausted and behind him stood Thorpe.

"You could have shouted," Callum spoke up. I couldn't see him, but guessed he was on the other side of the bed. "I was asleep down the hall. I could have helped."

"There wasn't time," Stephen hissed.

"But, why would she do this to herself," Boo asked.

I desperately wanted to sit up and tell them to stop talking about me like I wasn't there, but I was still so tired. Unlike the last time I'd woken up in the hospital, I remembered why I was here. The cut on my arm. Had it really been that bad? And Sid! Sid was there! He'd done it. Hadn't he? Or had that been part of the dream?

"She wouldn't," Stephen responded, his voice insistent, but uncertain. "She wouldn't do that to herself."

"So someone came into the apartment, cut her arm, and left," Callum argued. "I know I was sleeping pretty heavily by then, but I think that would have woke me."

"Stephen's right," Thorpe said. "I don't think Rory would do this to herself. At least not under normal circumstances."

"The ritual," Stephen mumbled. "The one she did to bring me back. We still don't know what they made her drink or how the ritual affected her."

"You think now she has a screw loose," Boo piped up, making an attempt at humor, but her voice was trembling.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I commanded my exhausted muscles to move just enough that I could reach over and grip Stephen's arm. "I'm not crazy."

"Rory," Boo shouted, and suddenly everyone was standing over my bed. Stephen's warm hand gently brushed the hair back from my face.

"Rory, do you remember what happened," Thorpe asked while Boo shot him a death glare.

And I did. I did remember what had happened. But what had happened was crazy. Struggling through my muggy brain, I could clearly see Sid sitting at that table with his sly smile and the letter opener. I would never lie to you. Trust me…, he'd urged. But why would I ever trust him?

"Sid," I explained, and was met with four confused stares. "Sid did it."

"Sid was in the apartment," Callum nearly shouted. "How did he get in? How did I not hear the alarm go off? I know I set the alarm before I crashed."

"We were at the kitchen table. He was holding the letter opener." But even as I spoke, it sounded insane. Why would Sid break into the apartment just to cut my arm and feed me some riddle? Stephen's hand tightened on my shoulder, his eyes growing even more worried than before.

"Rory," he spoke softly. "The alarm was still set when I got home. Do you remember how he got into the flat?"

"I… um…" But I had no idea. "I just remember him sitting at the table. I was going through the books and he was at the table with me. And you were sitting on the couch."

A dark, terrible thought was creeping in on me now and I tried to force it down, telling myself that it wasn't possible. But it was obvious Stephen was already there as well.

"Rory, I wasn't there," he began. "You were already hurt when I got home. You were asleep."

"A dream."

"A dream," Boo repeated, her hand squeezing mine. "You're trying to say you cut yourself in your sleep?"

Callum spoke as he paced. "It's happened. I've heard some mental cases of sleepwalking."

"Sid was in the dream, but he said he'd cut me," I continued, my voice beginning to shake with the fear that was clawing up my gut. "But it had to have been me. W-why… why would I do that?"

"Rory," Thorpe spoke up. "Have you had any other dreams like this? Dreams where you were sleepwalking?"

"No… um, no sleepwalking. But I have had several dreams with Sid in them. Ever since the ritual."

"So, this really could be a side effect," Boo inquired, but Stephen was slowly shaking his head.

"What happens in these dreams," he asked.

I thought back through them, the creepy and the sweet. There was lots of Stephen, though I really didn't want to admit how much I'd been dreaming about him. "He keeps asking me to remember something," I explained. "But I'm not sure what."

"That's what they're all about?"

"Yes. And I… I think I might have actually remembered something this time. Something about sitting in a park, I think. I was with you, Stephen, and we were sitting in the grass talking. But I can't remember what we were talking about. You were sad."

Stephen's eyes had gone wide and there seemed to be fear there behind his glasses.

"Do you know what I'm talking about," I asked, attempting to sit up, but only managing to lift my head.

"No. No, I don't. It was probably just a dream." But, though his voice was steady, there was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he really did know exactly what I was talking about.

Do you remember his lies?

A chill ran up my spine at the thought that Stephen was lying to me. I trusted him, more than I'd ever trusted anyone.

"So, wait, all your dreams are about the same thing," Callum questioned and I nodded. "I know this is going to sound bonkers, but is it possible that Sid really is messing with her dreams? I mean, you said he was strong and Sadie healed quickly when she was cut. What if those weren't the only superpowers they've woken up with?"

"Let's not jump to horrifying conclusions just yet," Stephen insisted, backing up from the bed. "For now, let's just focus on keeping a closer eye on Rory." At my sound of protest, he held up a hand. "I know it's not what you want, but you could have killed yourself. I'm not leaving you without supervision. Thorpe, is it possible Marigold could take a look at her. Maybe run some tests to ensure there's nothing medically wrong?"

This I wanted to protest even more, but Thorpe was already nodding his head and dialing a number.

"For such a short thing, you really are a lot of trouble," Callum joked, but his eyes were just as worried as everyone else's.

This brought the ghost of a smile to my face. "I do it just to keep you on your toes."

At some point after this, I fell asleep, and once again, I found myself in the park. The sun was warm on my face, though the London air had a slight chill to it. Stephen sat beside me, his eyes troubled.

"What I say now, it doesn't go back with us," he began. This was even more confusing than our surroundings. Ahead of us, I saw the curve of Marble Arch and felt this longing in my gut – like if we could just reach it, everything would be fine.

"What are you about to say," I whispered, but with the sense that Stephen couldn't hear me.

"It sounds absurd. It's meant to," he continued, though I had the feeling that I'd missed something in between these words and the last. His eyes were boring into me now, pleading… but, pleading for what?

Suddenly, this was more than a little familiar. I could recall the feel of the grass where it brushed my legs, the longing I'd felt for Stephen. Turning behind me, I knew Sid and Sadie would be appearing at any moment and that I'd have to shove Stephen through Marble Arch or he wouldn't leave. He wouldn't stay with me.

As the realization of this memory – this very real memory – hit me, my eyes shot open and I was back in the hospital bed.

"Rory," Stephen called from the chair beside the bed. He was the only person in the room now. "Are you alright? Did you have another dream?"

Looking over at him, all I could think about was sitting with him in that park. This was something I'd forgotten, but had he forgotten it too?

"What's the Shadow Cabinet," I whispered, the words jumping into my head like a familiar song. And it was there again, that look of nervous fear in his eyes, as if I were standing too close to a flame and he knew he couldn't pull me back in time.

"I told you, it's not real."

I nodded, acting as though it was just the dream affecting me, but his eyes gave him away, and now I knew.

Stephen was lying to me.

~SoL~

I felt like a disjointed puppet stumbling up the stairs to the flat, even with Stephen's help. After keeping me overnight, the hospital had finally released me – apparently under my new alias of Francine Brummings. My head was throbbing and more than anything I wanted to feel the familiar softness of my own bed. But the calmness I was picturing was in contrast with the shouting coming through the door.

"You need to settle down before I throw you through that door," Callum yelled, and Stephen immediately situated me behind him as he opened the door.

Peeping around Stephen's shoulder, I instantly spotted the source of the controversy. Standing by the couch with his hands trembling in anger was Jerome. Callum and Boo stood on the other side of the room and it appeared that Boo was attempting to hold Callum back.

"What is this," Stephen asked, instant cop.

"Rory," Jerome exclaimed, his face calming significantly at the sight of me. "Are you alright? What happened? They wouldn't even tell me what hospital you were at!"

"It was an accident… sort of. And I'm fine," I explained, but my words didn't extinguish the tension in the room.

"We didn't tell you the name of the hospital because you didn't need to be there," Callum inserted, his fists tightening at his sides. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not a part of this team!"

"I am Rory's friend and I care about her! I have a right to know if something's happened!" I'd never heard Jerome shout like that, but what struck me the most was the worry… the way his voice shook as he spoke of me.

"Callum's right," Stephen agreed, his voice calm and his hands raised as though Jerome were waving around a pistol. "You couldn't be at that hospital, Jerome, and you shouldn't be here. Rory is in hiding for a reason and you are putting her in jeopardy."

And just like that, Jerome's anger evaporated, his face going white. "No offense, but it doesn't look like you're doing a very good job of keeping her safe," he nearly whispered, his voice soft now. "First Charlotte's body materializes in the attic while Rory's here alone and now she's nearly bled to death."

I heard Stephen's breath catch and couldn't bring myself to look at his face.

"We're doing the best we can," Callum shouted, but Stephen's waved him off. He clearly had something both calming and brilliant to say, but at that exact moment, I swayed on my feet…

…and was instantly caught by two pairs of hands.

Stephen and Jerome were on either side of me, holding me up, neither willing to let go.

"I think I need to lay down," I offered, hoping this would bench all arguments for a while.

"Can, um… can I help you to your room," Jerome asked, and I nodded.

Stephen let go of me instantly, as though I'd burned him, and moved towards the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to start trouble," Jerome insisted the moment we were in the safety of my room, the door firmly closed. "I called your phone and Boo answered and all I could think about was getting to you. I just had to make sure you were okay."

Setting down on the bed next to me, he gently took my injured arm in his hand, eyeing the bandage. "Can you tell me how it happened," he inquired, his eyes full worry. I launched into my story, explained once again the dream with Sid and waking up dizzy from blood loss. With every word, Jerome's face grew more horrified.

"You shouldn't be here alone," he declared when I was done.

"Jerome…"

"No, listen. I… I worry about you, Rory. All the time. Ever since that Ripper ghost nearly took you away from me forever, I've… I just want you safe. Safe and happy."

His eyes never left mine as he spoke and I could see the intensity in them growing. Though I realized where this was headed, I was too slow to stop it and Jerome was leaning in and…

His lips were on mine, like they hadn't been in months. For a moment, I let myself revel in the feeling. Everything was so easy with Jerome. Every emotion he felt bled from his lips to mine and filled me with assurance. But as he gripped my waist to pull me closer, I found myself pushing back.

"Wait," I mumbled out against his lips. "Jerome, wait."

With a resigned sigh, he pulled back, his soft eyes finding mine. The pain there was heartbreaking.

"Rory, there's something I have to tell you. Something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

"Jer, no–"

"Just let me say it, please. I'll go crazy if I don't say it."

I knew I should stop him, but my head was still pounding and I couldn't find the words.

"Rory, I love you."

For a fleeting second, I felt an overwhelming happiness, but I couldn't deny that I very much wanted a different voice to say those words. My mouth gaped open like a fish, but for once, I was speechless.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a long time, but I just couldn't get up the courage. I thought it was nerves… that I was afraid you'd reject me. But now I know what I was really afraid of… and I can see it on your face now."

I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes and my throat was too thick. Of all the people in my life, Jerome was the one I feared hurting the most. And hurting him seemed to be the only option at the moment.

"You don't love me… at least not like that," Jerome inserted for me, and the tears finally slid down my face.

"Jerome…"

"But you love him, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter," I stuttered out. "It can't… we can't be together. He doesn't want…" Doesn't want me… but I couldn't say it aloud.

"That's not an answer. Do you love him?"

A sob broke free of my throat and slowly, I nodded.

Hesitantly, Jerome reached up and brushed the tears from my face, and I felt my heart break inside of me. It was more painful than the cut to my arm.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to his side. "Don't you remember what I just said? I want you safe and happy. And if he doesn't realize how amazing you are, he's an idiot."

My head still hurt and the tears were coming in earnest now and I buried my face in his shirt. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulled us up in the bed until we were both leaning against the headboard and he let me cry all over him, his hand running gently through my hair.

After several minutes, once my embarrassing sobbing was finally under control, he broke the silence. "I was actually calling you earlier with news. I found something."

"Found something."

Jerome dug a piece of folded paper out of his pocket, staring at it while he spoke. "I googled Edward Kennish. Turns out, he put out a few paintings and even a book under the alias Elias Townsend. I brought up all the paintings together."

Unfolding the paper, he handed it to me, giving me a moment to analyze it.

"It's a chalice," he explained of the picture he'd roughly sketched.

And I could see it. A very large alabaster cup studded with rubies and gems, like something straight out of a Renaissance festival. But more than anything, I couldn't get over how familiar it looked. The longer I stared at it, the clearer the picture was in my head.

I was in Jane's house, in the bedroom on the third floor. But it wasn't Jane there with me, it was Sid and Sadie. And Stephen was there as well? But… when were we all in that room together? It was on the table, the chalice. And there were Roman numerals on the walls, but they were wrong. The memory was so strong that it took my breath away. I could feel the fear that I'd felt then, along with the overwhelming joy of being with Stephen… of having him back.

"Rory… are you okay? What is it," Jerome asked.

"I don't know. I… I don't know."