Thanks a million for the reviews and follows, guys! :D I promise that the Doctor and Clara will feature more heavily in upcoming chapters and I hope that you're liking Cassidy as a protagonist so far.
Happy reading!

Cassidy tugged a cardigan around her shoulders, folding the fluffy collar downward in order to stop it from tickling the bare skin of her neck. Her mother had knitted it for her when she was nine and it had been about four sizes too big.
"You'll grow into it," she had assured her disgruntled daughter- who never thought for a second that her mother would one day be proved right.

"Not as bad as before," she thought, inspecting herself in the glass of the bathroom mirror. The dark circles and lines around her eyes were starting to fade, her face had almost completely regained its colour and when she scraped all of her long blonde hair back into a ponytail, she no longer had prominent stress-veins sticking out like fat, blue serpents on her temples.
She crept down the stairs as quietly as she could, hoping not to wake her mother. The elderly woman had fallen asleep on the sofa again the night before and knowing how much her ill mother needed her rest, Cassidy couldn't have brought herself to stir her.

"Are you sure you're alright to be heading back to work already? It's early."

Damn.
Cassidy rolled her eyes and walked into the sitting room, shaking her head.
"Mum," she sighed with a slight smile, stooping to kiss her mother's powdery, wrinkled cheek. "You're right. It's early. It's like seven forty-five. You should get back to sleep."
Maria Albright frowned stubbornly and lifted a hand to tuck a stray, flossy tendril of hair behind her daughter's ear.
"Oi. Last time I checked, I was the mummy and I was the one telling you when to go back to sleep." Her face softened and she coughed throatily. "And that's not what I meant. Love, it's only been two weeks since…" The old woman's voice trailed off for a moment, suddenly re-animating again. "If the museum is offering you more time off with pay…"

Now it was Cassidy's turn to look stubborn. "I need to get back to my statue."
She stood up straight. "The presentation is tonight. It's a big night both for me and for the exhibit. Dr Hewitt hasn't gotten back to me about actually showing up and no one knows that exhibit better than me, anyway." She swallowed, ignoring the stinging feeling in the corners of her eyes. "Lou…was really happy…for me…when she heard about the exhibition…she'd want me to do it."
"If you say so, poppet," Maria murmured, nodding. "Do a good job, kiddo." The woman keeled over slightly, her breathing wrenched by hacking coughs for a moment before she recovered, her face falling slightly. "I…I wish I could go to see your speech for myself."
"It's alright, Mum," Cassidy said quickly dashing any possible melancholic rambles. It hurt enough to know that the only woman who was more proud of the exhibit than she was probably wasn't even going to able to see it properly on the night of its official opening; she didn't need to be reminded. "It'll probably be really boring anyway. Just a lot of stuffy historians and chatty journalists trying to take pictures. Get plenty of rest and don't forget to take your medication."
Another kiss on the cheek was offered and accepted and with that, an aloof daughter left her proud mother.
Both were wearing the same absent-minded, half-smile.

Cassidy headed straight to the main office when she reached the museum.
The reasoning behind her destination was twofold.
Firstly, Curator Stanford had firmly requested that she check in with him before returning to work.
However she was also there because she needed to see a security guard as soon as possible. She wanted immediate access to the tapes of the exhibition room on the night when Louisa died.
Her friend's enigmatic final words had concerned nothing else but the angel. For the past two weeks, she had simply replayed the scene in her mind. Over and over, each new viewing of the scene raising another thousand questions.
But now, after two weeks of grieving, she was done with questions.
Cassidy wanted answers now.

She was obstinately prepared to demand to see a security guard if needs be, but that wasn't necessary at all. Omar was waiting outside of Stanford's office, looking strangely alien without his usual royal blue security guard's uniform.
"Cass," he said with a breathy, shocked sigh as he caught sight of her. "Jesus, Cass, I didn't think you'd be back in so soon…" He furrowed his brow. "Fuck…I know how close you were to Lou. I…I'm so sorry, Cass."
His arms automatically opened for the mandatory comforting hug, which she accepted somewhat awkwardly, shuffling in her converse runners.
"Y-Yeah, well," Cassidy managed to say quickly, ignoring the prickling feeling in the corners of her eyes. "I…I just wanted to get back to normality you know. Get the presentation done and start to get my life back on track again. You know what I'm like. Happiest when I'm busy."
She stepped back from Omar and forced herself to laugh flippantly, not wanting to cry in front of the security guard. She was sick of people pitying her. She missed Lou, but she hadn't been rendered helpless.

"Look, Cass," Omar began, starting the mandatory support speech that everyone is required to give to bereaved individuals. "If there's anything that I can do to help you settle back in at all, just s-…"
"Actually," Cassidy cut across him. "I know this is probably a bit of a weird request and…I'm sorry for asking but…is there any chance that I could have a look at the security tapes from the night that Lou…" She swallowed, suddenly unable to say what she had meant to. "The night that Lou was taken to the hospital."
Omar frowned, his brow creasing and he was about to answer, when suddenly two police officers walked briskly from Stanford's office, passing the museum workers with complete nonchalance.

Cassidy raised an eyebrow, watching the two black-jackets as they walked away. "What are the police here for?"
Omar's face became sullen and he shook his head.

"The disappearances."
"Disappearances?!" Cassidy's eyebrows shot upward into her hairline. "What disappearances?"

"A lot happened in the last two weeks, Cass," Omar went on, dropping his voice and moving closer to her. "There have been missing persons' reports. Now, I know a missing person's report is nothing new in London but so far, five of them have been tied to the museum…"
"How have they been tied to the museum?" she demanded to know, following suit and lowering her voice to a whisper.
"All five of the people have been traced to having last been seen at the museum. Darrow and Hewitt haven't been checking in with work recently either. Darrow hasn't been into work in three weeks and Hewitt never arrived in McIntosh's lab in Glasgow. They're currently running investigations into both of their whereabouts."
"Wh-what? You can't be serious."
Cassidy's heartbeat had gone from beating so quickly that she could have sworn it was humming, to beating so slowly that her entire body suddenly felt as though she was no longer fully alive.

Omar nodded. "I'm completely fucking serious, Cass. Seven people in total. One of them is a minor. Missing and every single disappearance is somehow connected to the museum."
Cassidy shook her throbbing head, not wanting to even contemplate the significance of this revelation.
"But…the people…they couldn't have just disappeared. Haven't they checked the security cameras? Can't they just trace what happened to them? Where they were last seen?"

"That's why I can't help you with the tapes, Cass," Omar insisted, grabbing her shoulder and looking her in the eye. "That's why Stanford's called all the security guards in this morning. There's nothing on the security tapes. Everything is gone. The tapes are completely blank."
Cassidy blinked, her eyes widening. "No. That's not possible. Are you sure it's not just a glitch? You said the security cameras were acting wei-…"
"This is no fucking glitch. The cameras have gone from being trippy to just recording nothing. Ever since the night Louisa…passed." Omar bit his lip, looking upwards and taking a deep inhale. "Ever since that night, the cameras haven't recorded a single thing. Stanford wanted to close the museum because of the lack of security until the fucking problem's been sorted out but the Museum Board won't let him because of the funds they'll lose." He sighed gruffly. "They just want the security guards to start working in wider, twenty-four hour shifts…"

"So you're saying there's no footage on the security tapes, whatsoever? Nothing at all?"
"There's nothing, Cass." Omar didn't let go of Cassidy's shoulder for a second, his grip slowly tightening as his eyes met hers once more. "Look, I'm not trying to freak you out but Jesus Christ, we didn't have any of these problems until that bloody st-…"

The door of Curator Stanford's office opened and the balding middle-aged man poked his head around the polished frame, his eyes widening slightly as they fell upon Cassidy.

"Ah, Miss Albright. Welcome back." He looked to Omar. "If you don't mind, Mr Ramokadi, I'll speak to Miss Albright first." Not waiting for Omar's response, the curator looked to her, beckoning her inside. "This will only take a moment."

The conversation with Stanford was watery as ever and the fact that he did not once bring up the running investigations that Omar had mentioned surprised Cassidy, while at the same time not surprising her at all.
She could only imagine that the curator would be trying his very hardest to keep the whole situation as hushed as possible.

Despite the fact that every inch of her mind was suddenly slowly being pushed to the point of splintering, Cassidy forced herself to smile and nod, partaking in the mundane script set before her.

"So then Miss Albright, how have you been?"
"Fine, thank you."
"Are you certain that you are ready to return to work?"
"Yes, Mr Stanford."
"The official opening and press conference for the angel statue exhibit is tonight. Since Dr Hewitt cannot be contacted at this time, are you prepared to make the main presentation yourself?"
"Yes, Mr Stanford."
"You don't have to do this, Miss Albright. We can arrange for another member of-…"
"I'm prepared to make the presentation, Mr Stanford. I've been prepared to make this presentation for a long time now."
"Alright then. Well, the statue has been moved back into the preparation room for any last minute checks that you'd like to make. Our PR officer has prepared a section of your main speech…"

Not a single word regarding the disappearances or Louisa Fitzhugh's death passed between them and minutes later, Cassidy found herself walking the familiar route to the preparation room for the first time in two weeks.

There was a quiver in her step and her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door of the preparation room.
For the first time in exactly fifteen days, her eyes fell upon the tall figure of stone who had pervaded her every dream and weighed heavily upon her every thought. Her mother had joked that she would begin to miss the statue, having not seen it in so long- but her mother was wrong.
Cassidy Albright saw her angel- her Michael- whenever she closed her eyes.
There were times when she awoke in the middle of the night and could have sworn for split seconds that the angel was standing in her room, at the foot of her bed, watching her.

But there he stood- for real this time.
His eyes always covered as ever, as if silently weeping for reasons that those who looked upon him would never know.

The sight of the angel sent a jolt of cold fear through Cassidy's chest.
"Michael…"

She murmured the name that she had christened him, ("him" still felt inexplicably more fitting than "it", in Cassidy's mind) , under her breath as she approached the statue with reverence. The low, buzzing light above her head cast flickering, dappled shadows across the angel's chest, wings and prominent jaw.
"Louisa warned me to stay away from you," Cassidy found herself whispering as she approached him, her voice wavering but slow and tentative, as if trying to soothe a feral animal. "Abigail said that you could move." She gave a nervous laugh, leaning forward to carefully examine a few micro-fractures in the statue's outstretched, broad bicep. "I don't know what to believe, though." After a few moments of hesitation, Cassidy delicately thumbed one of the cracks, guiltily relishing the cool, smooth, stone skin of the seraph against her own. "I mean, if you were really capable of moving, why have I not seen you move yet? After all, I spend the most time with you."

The angel remained silent as ever and did not move an inch.
Cassidy shook her head, smiling again. "What am I saying?"
Bit by bit, she felt her initial fear melt away, leaving only the strange feelings of reverence and longing that she had always felt around the statue.
In spite of everything, she could not bring herself to want to stay afraid of the statue and after two Panadol tablets for her headaches and a cup of black coffee, Cassidy had settled back into the rhythm of her work.

That was not to say that her mind wasn't still in tatters, but just being beside her angel, her Michael and assuring herself that he was, indeed, just a statue, was enough to relieve her.
Within minutes, she was chuckling to herself as she gently polished the angel's face. "You know, Michael? I think I know why, of all the statues I've restored and taken care of, you're my favourite." A smile had never felt so alien upon her face. "It's not just because I found you myself or because you're such a mystery or because you're obviously extremely attractive for a man of marble…I think it's because when I was little, when my mother was in and out of the hospital, she used to always say that no matter where I was, whenever I felt frightened…I would always have a guardian angel looking after me…I think that's why I've always had a soft spot for angels."
Cassidy's fingertips skimmed a hairline crack on the angel's outstretched palm. "Leon told me that he thinks that you're my guardian angel, Michael. I don't know if he's right but I suppose I'd be grateful if you were. Are you really going to look after me? You're definitely nicer than any man I've ever met before. You're so easy to talk to. I mean, you're such a great listener and …I'm talking to a statue again, aren't I?"

She hung her head, loose tendrils of her hair falling limply around her face. "Maybe I really am going insane. Maybe I really have lost my mind…"

Unbeknownst to Cassidy Albright, the statue gazed upon her, his brow furrowing and his lips curled into a cruel grin, revealing his sharp, jagged teeth.
"No, no, no, my deluded little human," the lonely assassin thought. "Your mind is not lost. It merely belongs to me now…"

"Where are you Miss Albright?" the doctor hissed under his breath, starting to get frustrated. "Hmpf. Maybe a different spelling. A-L-B-R-I-G-H-T sounds right though, doesn't it? Or is she one of those who spells it A-L-B-R-I-T-E?" He frowned, tapping the new letter combinations into the TARDIS console, only for his search to bear no fruits once again. "Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Awh, bugger it…"

Clara Oswald bit back a slight chuckle at the doctor's frustration and shook her head, her long dark hair jostling at her shoulders. "Still trying to figure out who exactly that girl from the church-yard was?" She leaned over his shoulder, examining the screen beneath the doctor's hands. "It's been almost three weeks."
"I've searched every inch of my files," he exclaimed, incredulously. "All of my stores, belongings, every single trunk and suitcase…and I've found nothing about Cassidy Albright, yet I'm positive that I have met her before." He sighed, pouting like a toddler as he folded his arms. "I thought the TARDIS might have something in her data-core about our mystery woman but yet again, there's not a trace of her here." He furrowed his brow even further. "Perhaps my memory isn't what it used to be." The doctor grunted. "Gah! I'm getting old. Old and thick. Old and thick."

Clara laughed aloud, patting his shoulder and pulling her phone out. "Well, old fellow, if you're not quite ready to give up. I think I may have some sourced something useful about Cassidy Albright through the magic of Google and the high tech archives known as Wikipedia."
She slumped against the console, examining the search screen of her phone.

"According to this, her full name is Cassidy Catherine Rosalind Albright and she's an archaeologist working with the London Museum for three years now, under the renowned Doctor Ernst Hewitt."
"Pft. Archaeologists."
Clara cocked an eyebrow. "Got a problem with archaeologists?"
He waved a hand. "I'm a time traveller. I laugh at archaeologists. Anyway, what else does the internet have to say about Miss Albright?"
"Well, according to the search engine, she hasn't done much as an archaeologist yet. All it says is that she's recently co-ordinated a dig just outside of Nottingham and that she's managed to unearth some kind of statue. Anything tugging on your memory, doctor?"

The doctor tilted his head. "Nothing at all. Anything else?"
Clara shrugged. "Just that she's giving some kind of presentation about the statue tonight, if you're at all interested in going."
"Mmm, I'm not a huge fan of statues, I'll admit." The doctor sighed. "Perhaps I really don't know Cassidy Albright at all. If I really had something important to tell her, surely I would have remembered by now."

Clara tucked her phone away and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "You'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure. You always do." She smiled. "Now, where did you say we were off to before lunch?"
A familiar boyish and excited grin returned to the doctor's face as he sprang to life once more and all but skipped to the other side of the TARDIS console. "Oh, just wait until you see this. You'll never believe where and when we're bound."

Cassidy Albright checked her watch, getting a fright when she realised that she had precisely twenty minutes until the beginning of the presentation.
She hadn't felt so nervous since her very first play in primary school. In reception class, she'd got the part of the angel Gabriel in the annual nativity play. She could remember needing the toilet as she stood at the side of stage and trembling so much that she could feel her teeth chattering in her mouth.
What she felt right now wasn't far off that feeling at all.
She rehearsed her speech in her head. She'd have flashcards in front of her on the lecturn but she didn't want to be dependent on them; Hewitt had always told her that they looked unprofessional.

"Dr Hewitt, where are you? You couldn't have just vanished. Did you go where all those other people went?"

Cassidy shook her head, refusing to let anything that she had heard earlier infringe upon her current thoughts and instead, concentrated on layering another coat of crimson nail polish on her right index finger.
The room felt strangely lonely without her angel statue in the centre of the floor but Michael had to be moved back into the exhibition room. It was as if, in his absence, a watchful gaze was no longer on her.
She took deep breaths to still her quivering fingers as she applied a thick line of eyeliner along the rim of her lashes, focusing on the hand mirror that she had managed to prop up on her work bench. She fumbled and freed a tube of red lipstick from the plastic bag at her side. Her pale, pink, (slightly chapped), lips were soon stained a deep scarlet, completing her, (somewhat), successful transformation from scruffy, scrappy little girl to a rouged and refined young woman.

Cassidy examined her face in the mirror, scraping back her fair hair into a loose, Roman-style bun, securing it with a faux rose-clip. She was silently amazed that she had managed to apply her own make-up and do her own hair without making herself look like a cross between a clown and a schoolgirl who had raided her mother's bathroom cabinet.
"Look Mum," she whispered, running a hand down the side of her face. "I'm a pretty girl."

"Of course," a nasty, little voice in the back of her mind decided to remind her. "It would have been easier to do all of your make-up if Louisa were still to help you, like she promised…"

Cassidy sniffed, feeling her eyes starting to sting and wrinkling her nose, she tilted her head back.
"No, no crying…that'll smudge the eyeliner…no crying…not now…not anymore…no…"

She took a step back from the work bench, testing her balance in her high heels and examining her reflection in the shiny, metallic cabinet doors for the last time.
"Not too bad," she murmured aloud, having successfully stifled her tears. "Not too bad at all, Cass."

Edmund Potter was at the door of the preparation room, only moments later, set with the task of summoning her to the exhibition hall before the audience were let in.
She was surprised when he offered her both congratulations and good-luck wishes but couldn't help but notice the stiffness in his voice.
Clearly a case of sour grapes, Cassidy couldn't help but think with glee. Even after everything, Ed was still as sore as ever that it was her doing the presentation and not him.
That said, Edmund had been one of the first to call her with comfort after Louisa's death so at least she could console herself with the knowledge that their rivalry didn't extend to outside work hours.

The exhibition room had been beautifully prepared for the event; the chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the glossy, mahogany podium.
The stone angel statue stood, majestic and magnificent, atop the podium, comfortably near to the lecturn from which she would soon be speaking.
She walked slowly up one of the aisles, her heels sounding out in even, resounding against the polished floor of the exhibition room.

She found her eyes lowering as she approached the statue, her breath catching in her throat. No matter how often she worked with the statue- cleaning him, repairing him, studying him- Cassidy always felt that it commanded reverence.
Once standing at the angel's feet, her head only barely reaching the angel's chin, she lifted a hand to place on his chest. Slowly, she brought her palm to press against Michael's bare stone pectoral- the other being covered by the drapes of his toga. She told herself that she was just reminding herself that the angel was nothing more than a stone statue, but soon, Cassidy found herself automatically stroking Michael's cool, smooth grey skin.
She quickly reassured herself that she was doing it out of nerves.

Cassidy looked up into his chiselled face. "You're such a mystery. I'm not about to accuse a work of art of a crime or anything but…I keep thinking that you're hiding something…" She shook her head, smiling a little. "But I'm not going to pursue that tonight. Tonight, is very special for both of us. That day in the forest, when I found you- I told you that we were going to do wonderful things together. Well, I'm going to be remembered for this find. This is going to be the first major step in my career as an archaeologist…and you're going to become one of the crowning jewels of the museum's art collection."

Suddenly, she started to feel uncomfortably dizzy, her temples throbbing and her head spinning. She hung her head, dropping her gaze to the floor and her eyes widening. "What the…?"
Upon the steps leading up to the podium, lay a single wild red rose- just like the one that she had found on her desk on the night of Louisa's death.
Her entire body shaking, Cassidy stooped to take it up into her hand. "Who…? How…?"
Until now, she had assumed that it was Louisa who had left the rose in her office on that fateful night. But if she was finding another rose now, it was impossible for the culprit to have been Louisa.

Cassidy's brows knitted together as she fingered the delicate red petals of the exquisite bloom.
The flower had been obviously left for her to find and was identical to the one that she had found before. But who else in the museum could possibly have known her favourite flower?
She had only ever talked about it with Louisa…

…and Leon Drake.

A smile of delight suddenly broke out across Cassidy's face. "It was Leon," she whispered breathily, her initial fear gave way to girlish excitement. "It was Leon who left me the ro-…"
Before she could finish her happy soliloquy, the doors at the far end of the hallway were opened by two stewards, the journalists and general audience slowly starting to trickle through the door.

Cassidy quickly tucked the rose into the silk band of her dress and with butterflies in her stomach, she made her way back up the steps and took her place at the lecturn.
She stole a sideways glance at the angel as the audience took their places.
A spotlight draped her in bright yellow and despite knowing that there were over fifty pairs of eyes in the room, locked on her, Cassidy Albright felt as though there was truly only one pair of eyes looking at her.

"…and so, it gives me great pleasure to officially present the statue "Michael" by the unknown artist. May its enigmatic beauty continue to beguile visitors to the museum for many years to come. Thank you."

Cassidy finally allowed herself to take a deep breath, her cheeks hot and flushed as applause rippled throughout the room.
An overwhelming sense of success and relief washed over her as she stumbled inelegantly down from the podium.

Amidst the flashing of cameras and a cacophony of journalists and art enthusiasts squawking with praise for the statue, Cassidy found herself being dragged into her own little circle of praise.
Stanford, Edmund and several others from both within the museum and outside of it were already clapping her back and shaking her hand.

"Nice one, Cass. Good run for a first presentation. You didn't make too many mistakes at all."
"Very well done, Miss Albright. Excellent work."
"It's more than evident that you certainly love your work. It's refreshing to meet a young archaeologist with such enthusiasm for the history she's unearthed."
"A dazzling piece…the restoration must have been a nightmare…kudos to you, Miss Albright."
"Good job, Cass. You did us proud!"

All Cassidy could find herself doing was smiling, nodding and breathlessly thanking anyone who offered compliment or praise. She was just amazed at herself, marvelling at the fact that she had actually managed to make the speech in the first place.
"And now if you'll all make your way to the Main Conference Hall," Stanford announced over the microphone. "There's a champagne reception and some food for you all to enjoy."

The crowd started to gradually filter out of the doors but immediately, Cassidy whipped her head around- her eyes falling upon the angel statue.
It was the strangest feeling she had ever endured but Cassidy instantly felt as though she should return to the statue. She wasn't sure why exactly.
All she knew was that the idea of leaving the statue alone filled her with an awful kind of dread.

She was just about to make a beeline for the angel once more when Leon appeared, putting his hand upon her shoulder.
"That was a really great speech, Cass," he praised warmly, grinning widely. "I think you really made a great impression on the journalists. They're all already buzzing about the statue." He winked. "Celebratory champagne time? We can't pop the first bottle without the star of the show present."

Cassidy blinked, feeling her cheeks grow warm with girlish blush. She managed a polite smile for Leon but her eyes did not leave the angel statue.
"W-well, that's unfortunate because Michael over there, is the real star of this exhibit and he can't exactly come with us for a champagne reception…"
The tour guide rolled his eyes in a bemused way. "Well, I'm sure that Mr Michael won't be too disappointed if you have a glass of champagne on his behalf." He offered his arm to Cassidy.

She finally tore her eyes from the statue, her heart giving a flutter as she accepted Leon's arm and she looked up at him. "I suppose not."
It was as she left at the side of the dashing security guard that Cassidy suddenly felt as though she was being watched again.
However, this time she could feel the gaze burning into the bare skin of her neck.
Whoever was watching her was furious with her…
...and terrified that her suspicions as to who it was would be confirmed, Cassidy did not turn around to glance behind.

With a champagne glass cradled neatly in her hand, she was soon walking around the gallery rooms at Leon's side. Finally properly alone with her crush, (and clad in something far better than a scruffy lab coat or faded gingham shirt), since the first day they had met , the young woman felt as bright and bubbly as the golden liquid in her glass.
"…and this room is where the majority of the museum's Ancient Greek artwork is kept."
Cassidy giggled at Leon's regal tour-guide tone of voice. "I see, I see. Mmm, I have a particular love for Greek mythology. It was the very first thing that I started studying when I took up history in University." She smiled, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Do you have a favourite Greek myth, Leon? You must know tons of them, working as a tour guide…"

Leon shrugged. "Not really. It wouldn't be a huge area of interest for me. I don't really know the details of any of them."
Feeling a little stupid for bring it up and quite disappointed with Leon's less-than-enthusiastic reaction, Cassidy nodded, coughing a little. "Ah…ah, alright. I suppose, I'm just a little bit of a geek for the Greeks then." She laughed nervously, cursing herself for coming out with such a ridiculous line.
However, Leon smiled kindly. "I think it's kind of cool how you're so into such obscure things. Do you have a favourite myth?"
Cassidy came to stop in front of a single white-marble statue, looking up at the two familiar forms. "This one. Uh…that is, this statue represents my favourite myth. Eros and Psyche."
"Oh…yeah, this one is called "The Ascension of Psyche." I never knew the story behind it though. That guy, though…" Leon pointed at the male figure. "That bloke is Eros, right? He's like the Greek version of Cupid?"
"Yes," Cassidy nodded, sipping at her champagne and allowing the astringent bite of the liquid to slow her heart rate. "Well, Cupid is more like the Roman version of Eros. Eros was the first of the two. He's the son of Aphrodite and the god of lust, flirtation, desire…everything involved in falling in love…"

Leon gave a chuckle that sent warmth to Cassidy's cheeks once more. "Ah…he'd be a fun guy to have around then…ok, so if this fellow is Eros then I'm guessing the lady on his hip must be Psyche?"
"Yeah, that's Psyche. She was born human but eventually became the goddess of the mind."
"And I'm guessing from the suggestiveness of the statue that she was romantically involved with the Greek cupid?"
Cassidy nodded, smiling again. "Yes. She was his wife. He fell deeply in love with her whilst she was still a human and married her in secret. It was only after performing a number of tasks for the gods that she became a goddess herself. I suppose I like the story because it's one of the few Greek love-stories that doesn't end in tragedy…"
"Just playing the devil's advocate here," Leon laughed, taking a gulp of the wine in his glass. "But if he was a god, then why did they have to marry in secret?"
"Well," Cassidy continued, not at all liking how blunt Leon was being, despite the tender mood that she was trying to create. "Psyche was still a human when Eros fell in love with her. A god being in love with mortal human would have been frowned upon…it was considered unnatural and immoral. So Eros had Psyche stolen away from her home, her family and her friends and had her taken to a beautiful palace in the far away mountains, where he married her in secret…but there was a catch…"
"Oh? A catch? Do tell."
"Psyche was never allowed to look upon Eros. Eros was so afraid that they would be found out and that Psyche would accidently tell someone that she was married to a god, he never allowed her to look at him."
"…so she had no clue who she was married to?"
"Not at first." Cassidy couldn't help but giggle a little. "He commanded his servants never to light the lamps in the rooms where they were permitted to meet…and their bedroom was always in complete darkness…I just think it's funny that for the first year of their marriage, she had no idea what the man who touched her every night looked like…"

It was only after the words had left her mouth, that Cassidy realised how childish and stupid she sounded. After desperately wanting to sound knowledgeable and professional in front of her handsome co-worker, she just ended up sounding like a complete and utter nerd, spitting racy Greek stories without restraint.
Leon raised an eyebrow at this but retained his kind smile, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I can imagine how that could cause a few relationship difficulties…"

Cassidy swallowed as silence settled between them once more, abruptly deciding that it was now or never. The two of them were finally alone together and she might not ever get a better chance to say what she needed to.
"I…I wore it."

"Hm?" Leon looked down at her. "Wore what?"
"The…the rose. The rose you left for me. I wore it in my belt tonight. I lost the first one on the night that Louisa was taken to hospital…I'm sorry, I think I may have dropped it in the ambulance…"
"What? A rose? Cass…" his eyebrows arched as confusion stole over his features. "Cass, I'm sorry but I've never left you a rose. It must have been someone else."
Pure embarrassment set Cassidy's mouth off, spilling words with no abandon again. "Oh? W-well, uh…I'm sorry…I just thought…well, no one else other than you and Louisa could have known my favourite flower is a rose…I just thought that when you left me the rose, maybe it was your way of telling me…" Her voice trailed off, when for the first time, she noticed the pitying look in Leon's eyes.

That horrible, awkward, sympathetic stare.
"Cass…I…"
He didn't need to go any further but he kept talking and reluctantly, with humiliated tears slowly building behind her eyes, Cassidy listened.

"Cass, I'm flattered that you feel that way about me but I…"

How dare that pathetic little human?

How dare she leave his side when he called for her?

Fury coursed through the veins of the lonely assassin as he watched his human slave- his pet- leave the room beside that irksome male.
Of course it had not entirely been his little Cassidy Albright's fault. It was not her fault that her poor, weak, naïve mind had been so easily seduced to the wills of such an ignorantly brash suitor.
Deep down inside, he knew it would be all too easy to eradicate this filthy human from his slave's life.
He wouldn't even have to send him into the past and consume his life energy; he had already had many a good meal since he had come to this place of human gathering. Now he was strong again.
Strong and satiated.
He could just snap the male human's neck as easily as a piece of dead wood or smash his skull in, breaking the flesh and bone in one hard squeeze.
Yes, he thought with malign glee. That would be an entertaining sight to see.

His iron patience soon wore off once more.
With the slow return of his quantum locking instinct, his little human stumbled back through the doors of the hall where he had been kept.
It was dark. It was quiet.
He sensed that the majority of the other humans had left the building now.

He watched as she moved through the doors, no direction in her movements and some kind of sorrow seeming to weight her every step.
He watched her as she slumped against the door frame for a moment, covering both eyes and starting to cry.

For a moment, he was overtaken by both feelings of amusement and disdain.
With her hair bound back and gathered at the crown of her head, a flowing dress falling around her small frame and her head pressed into her hands as she wept…

…she almost looked like one of his kind.

He watched her lithe silhouette with fierce intent until the beautiful illusion was shattered by his human's moving once again.
Her clumsy, ungraceful gait was more ungainly than usual, he noted. As though she had difficulty walking.
It was when he realised just how vulnerable his little human was that his hunger reached its peak.

Tonight.
Tonight would be the night.
He had played with his prey for long enough. The angels were patient sadists but alas, patient sadists with needs.
It was time to claim what was his.

"I should have known!"
Cassidy wiped her eyes, hiccupping slightly.

After her third glass of champagne, she knew that she had had far too much to drink but that didn't stop her from taking a fourth.
She had never felt so embarrassed in her entire life and alcohol seemed to numb the awful feeling of being completely shot down by Leon Drake.

"I cannot believe I started talking about Greek fairytales! He…he must think I'm either raving mad or some pathetic little swot who lives in her own fantasy world," she muttered aloud, trying desperately not to slur her words.
She was now, (clumsily), treading the blurry line between drunkenness and sobriety.
A glass of red wine was enough to get her tipsy; were four glasses of champagne the equivalent of one glass of red wine? Or was she worse than usual?

It was long after closing time.
The entire party, (including Leon), had gone home and now the only other people in the museum were the three security guards playing black-jack in the canteen- equipped with a grand total of no working security cameras.

Completely inebriated, Cassidy made her way up to her angel statue.
Her Michael.

"Well Michael…Leon now officially thinks I'm crazy…not only does he apparently not fancy me at all…but he actually has a very pretty girlfriend called Shauna…" She gave a dry, cynical laugh. "He even showed me photographs of her on his phone, in case I thought he was lying…I know, charming right?"
She wandered up to the statue's feet, looking up into the angel's smooth, stone visage.

"Why are you crying, Michael?" she asked softly. "I'm telling you all about my problems and I never asked you why you're crying. You're always crying…but I forgot to ask you why. I'm so sorry…" She sniffed. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"
Unable to think straight, Cassidy found herself laughing aloud again.
"You know what. Screw Leon. Seriously. Fuck him." She smirked drunkenly, pouting her dark red lips and wrapping her arm loosely around the angel's neck. "You're my one true love, Michael. You're the one that I want. People tell me that I'm in love with my work…well, maybe I am." She leaned up, her lips ghosting the angel's before she laughed aloud. "You're so hot. You're the most handsome man that I've ever seen before in my entire life. I don't care if you're a statue…I think you're just amazing…" For a frightening moment, even in her drunken haze, Cassidy was unsure whether or not she was speaking seriously or still just playing around to make herself feel better.

She leaned up, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I want you, Michael. Take me away from here."
And with that, she leaned up and kissed the angel's lips- her soft, warm lips meshing against the angel's cold, stone ones.

Having to break away to laugh at her own stupidity, Cassidy stumbled backwards, tripping over her own heels and falling on to the floor. "Heh…I'm sorry…I'm not usually this-…"

Cassidy looked up at the angel and her voice was suddenly rendered useless.
Her blood ran cold, her breath seized and her heart just about stopped.

The angel statue was still standing above her but his arm was no longer draped across his eyes. It was at his side.
The statue had moved.

The massive stone seraph was now staring down at her with sightless, blank stone eyes and a sneer on his thin lips.
His face, as Cassidy had imagined it in both her most vivid dreams and most haunting nightmares, was eerily handsome. So perfect yet so utterly inhuman, each chiselled feature accentuated with dark exquisiteness.
But the glare.
The look in his eyes.
It sent a bolt of terror through her.

"Wh-what…?"

For a few moments, all Cassidy could do was stare up at the statue in pure and utter horror- wondering if she was the victim of some terrible prank or so drunk that she had started to hallucinate.
Swallowing back against her dry throat and curling her nails against the wood of the podium- part of Cassidy's mind confirming that this was, indeed, all real.

Breathing heavily, she simply stared up at the angel- her features overdrawn with fear and awe.

Then Cassidy Albright broke the most important rule of dealing with the beings known as the Weeping Angels.

Cassidy Albright blinked.