Once again, ladies and gentleman! Thank you for the reads and thank you for bearing with the annoying wait-times. :D Feedback always encourages me to write faster. I know I promised fan-art clips with this chapter but unfortunately one of the artists would like to improve one of her pieces before I post and I promised I'd put them up all together.
Enjoy the next chapter. This one might be a little bit shorter than usual but this is something I'm experimenting with to heighten the tension and to improve my posting speed.
Let me know if it's worked!

With slightly trembling hands, Cassidy's eyes travelled down the crinkled, yellowish note-paper. Each Romanesque letter had been printed with the varying pressures of a rickety type-writer…aside from the opening sentence: that was written with the gentle strokes of fountain pen.

Dear Cass,

Wow, it's been so long.

Well, I guess it's been a long time for me. I'm not too sure about you!
I really hope this letter got to you safe and sound. The Doctor told me that I should send it to your address, marked to be handed over to you on the twenty-seventh of November between the hours of three and four. Gotta be honest here and say that I don't know why that is but if it gets this letter safely to you, I don't mind at all.
If everything with my legal team, (yeah, get that. I've got a legal team now), went to plan then this letter should have arrived at your door on the 27th of November 2012 before 4.

Hopefully you're reading it right now.
The Doctor was able to give me this time and date and he told me that you showed him this very letter in the future. I guess that's part of the perks of time travel. For me, that was kind of reassurance that you'd get this ok.

I'm writing this letter about twelve years after you and I met in the Hell that was Summer Bank. I would have started writing sooner but I had no idea how to get this letter to you. For a while, I was thinking about time capsules or catching the next flight to England to track down your great, great grandma. Thankfully, though, the Doctor showed up just a few days ago and gave me all the answers.

I feel so old, thinking about what happened all those years ago. How old are you now, I wonder to myself as I read this. You probably aged really well. That pretty yellow hair of yours is probably still bright as the noon sun. I'm going grey.
Molly says that I haven't started to look like an old timer yet but I know those damn greys are still there. I blame the stresses that come with work.

Molly's my lovely wife, by the way. I wish you could have met her, Cass. I'd bet a million that you two would get on like a house on fire.
I met her when I went back to University to study engineering. I heard her singing in one of the back-rooms in the library and as I listened behind the wall, I thought about all those times I heard you singing in your room at the hotel. Hearing your voice would always lift my spirits when I felt blue and when I heard Molly murdering that Bob Dylan song, I knew I had to run in and introduce myself.

Five years later, we were married in my home-town.
That's the second time a memory of you inspired me to do something great for myself.

I'm getting ahead of myself though. Maybe I should go back to the day I got back to North Carolina. I thought I'd walk into my parents' house to find that my momma had already arranged a memorial service for me but it didn't take me long to figure out that Doctor took me back to the same day that those angels took me.
I'd only been gone for an hour and momma wasn't worried sick. She was only sick with anger because I'd missed supper.

Pops got back from overseas about four months later after an airlift. His base camp was hit pretty bad and he was sent home with injuries. Broke my own heart and momma's to see his leg so busted up but he had no lung damage, thank the Lord.
Did you get to see your momma, Cass? Was she ok? I hope she got better soon. You're both in my prayers. With any luck, you weren't away from home long enough for anyone to break their hearts worrying about you.

After I got settled back in at home, I decided to head back to University again and I managed to dodge the second draft, (with my asthma being what it is). Maybe I was branded a coward but my momma's heart wouldn't have been able to take seeing me leave for war and pops needed someone to help out on the peach farm now that he couldn't exactly work alone.

I was going through my pockets one night and I found the torch that the Doctor gave us. I'll make a long, complicated story pretty short. After three years of advanced engine shop and engineering, I learned how to take apart the torch and to reverse engineer. That means I was able to make one of my own.
One of my Professors saw me tinkering with it in the workshop and I couldn't think of any good explanation as to where it came from other than to say that I'd made it myself.
Eventually, with the Prof's help, I figured out how to get the materials to make more of them. Then I started selling them around campus to make a little extra money for pops' medical bills. Wasn't long before I was invited to a few craft fairs and then the next thing I knew, I signing a patent contract.

I felt pretty dirty about doing it 'cos it's not like I was the first person to invent it or anything...though the lawyers all said that no one had ever patented the idea before me. Since the Doctor gave me the torch, I was gonna name it after him but he never gave me his real name. So instead, I ended up calling the brand: "All-Bright" torches. I thought it fit perfect. Not only was it a catchy name, but I got to call my torch company after the girl who saved my life.
We're doing really well now. It's crazy to think about. Seriously plum loco.
But I've made a lot of money now, Cass. My parents could pay off the mortgage on the farm, they're living comfortably and Molly and I have moved into our own place at the edge of the county.

It's a real nice spot. Cozy but with great views.

How are things at the museum? Are you still working as an archaeologist? Or have you done something else new? Are you married now? Have you got kids?
Molly and I have three.

My youngest is Clara and she's still sleeping in her crib. Eddie's three and he starts school in the Fall.
My eldest is Cassidy, named after you. She's seven year old and she's got a bigger imagination than any kid I've ever met.
I mean it, Cass. I don't think I would have ever escaped that hotel if it wasn't for you guys and I owe my life to you all. Especially you.

I've never been able to tell Molly the story of what you and I went through. Maybe one day, I'll be able to but at the moment, I don't think she'd believe me and even if she did believe me- I don't think I could ever scare her like that.

I've told the story to Cassy, Eddie and Clara as a bed-time story, with a few details changed of course. Even though their dad isn't a war-hero like grandpa, they can hear a story about how their dad was kidnapped by UFO alien monsters and how he fought them with the help of four amazing people. Clara, Edmund, the magical doctor with the time machine and Cassidy Albright, the woman who saved their daddy's life.
Little Cassidy gets me to tell the story all the time.

I was worried before that I'd never get a chance to honour a child with a name after the Doctor but now Cassy wants to go to college when she grows up to study to become one. Molly had her doubts but now with the way things are going, I don't think it'll be long before we see women doctors in the hospital and I hope my own little Cassy will be one of them.
And with the way things are going, since Eddie copies everything Cassy does, it's looking like he might be following soon after!

Anyway, if you ever get the chance, (and since you'll be meeting the Doctor in your future- you probably will), I'd be really happy if you'd write me back.
I think about you all the time and every day. I keep thinking back to the day that I forced an asthma attack on myself, ready to end it all just to escape those monsters. I keep think that if you hadn't saved me, I wouldn't have Molly now. I wouldn't have the kids. Momma and pops wouldn't be living in comfort. I wouldn't have my company.
I owe so much of my life to you and I don't think I ever thank you properly.
So here's a little gift from me. The lawyer should explain everything if the papers held up through all these years.
I know it isn't much but I hope it helps you wherever you are right now. I hope this can go towards helping you and your momma live a little more comfortably.

Good luck in everything you do and God bless,

Stan

"Erm…would you like me to leave you alone for a moment, Miss Albright?" Richard Greenwich, the Albright family's lawyer, asked the other occupant of the table.

Cassidy's vision had become a little foggy at this stage but she had trained herself to be quite good and holding back tears. Blinking and sniffing, the smile on her face still wide as ever, she shook her head. "No thank you, Mr Greenwich. No thank you."

The dining room was completely quiet, aside from the occasional rustling of papers and the scrape of a chair against hardwood.
Michael was apparently keeping his promise to stay quiet and out of the way, provided that Cassidy didn't attempt anything funny with Greenwich.

"Funny", primarily meaning making any attempt to escape the house.

She had no idea where he was now and no idea if he was eavesdropping on the conversation or could somehow see everything that they were doing but either way, Cassidy was simply elated with the fact that he was choosing to remain silent.
His choices made her wonder silently, as her fingers folded the precious letter away, if she had convinced Michael to keep this simple promise to her…what other things could she possibly convince him to do?

Maybe her future wasn't quite as bleak as she thought it would be.
If Michael would permit her to have uninterrupted visits from human guests provided that she didn't leave with them when it was time for them to go, perhaps she could bring friends over now and then. If she could be assured of their safety, she wouldn't have to worry about feeling alone.
It made her wonder: if she could barter her compliance, for the chance to have a visitor…could that eventually escalate to Michael allowing her to leave the house once in a while?
It wasn't much but it was a step towards gaining freedom again.
But that thought alone suddenly woke the conflicting voices that so often fought over Cassidy's mind.

"Don't think anything of this new lenience. It's just one of his manipulation tactics. He wants to lull you into a false sense of security. He's giving you what you want to ensure that you feel obliged to give him what he wants."

"So, Miss Albright," Greenwich went on, placing a stack of files on the table. "There's something else another matter- that I've got to cover with you this afternoon…"

"Manipulation is going to get him nowhere. Why would he even bother? He's going to take what he wants from you whether you're willing to give it to him or not."

"For one thing, as you might know, your mother's last will and testament legally bequeaths you with a number of articles…" Greenwich started to pull out sheets with highlighted phrases and paragraphs.

"He's only trying to make it easier for himself. The less you struggle- the more compliant you are- the quicker and easier it'll be for him."

"Miss Albright?"

"Oh…oh yes," Cassidy interjected, jerked from her thoughts and looking back up at the lawyer once more. "Mum left the house to me. Christine told me that. The mortgage has been sorted out. I rang Norris' Letting on Monday…"

"Maybe you could use this as an opportunity to make things easier for yourself. Who knows what you could convince him to let you do. You could be living normally again in no time."

"Living normally under the rule of a psychopathic alien? That sounds appealing."

"If he's going to take what he wants anyway, you may as well make it sweet for yourself and take what you can get out of it."

"Well, the house and all its grounds," Greenwich corrected her, adjusting his spectacles before folding his hands on the table. "Including the half of the old orchard towards that back of the property."

"This makes one aspect of living with Michael a little bit easier but it will make so many aspects a lot more difficult. When you start playing his games, you officially start to become his slave."

"Haven't I already started playing his games? Just because I'm playing along doesn't mean I can't win."

Cassidy pinched the bridge of her nose, massaging it for a moment as she glanced down at the sheets. "So…I own the gardens too? Alright. Perfect. That comes under the mortgage, right?"

"Yes," Greenwich told her, taking a deep breath and leafing out one final sheet of paper. He looked at her for a moment, over the thick horned rim with a great seriousness in his stare. "Miss Albright, that is not all. Your mother quite literally left you all of her possessions including her entire savings and quite a sizeable inheritance from your grandmother, Catherine Albright."

"I know about the inheritance," Cassidy said slowly, folding her hands on the table. "My mother used it to buy this house."
"And she left quite a bit of it in the account," the lawyer went on, raising his eyebrows at the figures on the page before him. "Additionally, while I'm not sure what your letter from Mr Quinn disclosed to you but…the legal documentation that accompanied the letter included details of an account created specifically for you by Mr Quinn. He allotted five percent of his company's earnings to you from 1973 onwards."

The words only washed over Cassidy's ears in a faint wave; she barely felt their weight and barely heard them as anything more than a collection of sounds.
"So what does that mean exactly? I've had a secret bank account for all these years?"
"Not quite. It means that for the last thirty-nine years, there's been an account that's accumulated a number of shares and dividends and that is still currently receiving funds from the All-Bright torch company…" Greenwich blinked in quasi-disbelief at his own notes. "The information here is a little sketchy but I'm prepared to assume that you know most of the details yourself, Miss Albright. Apparently, Mr Quinn- the company's chief designer and CEO- was quite a good friend of your great-grandmother's and he created the extra shareholder's account to repay some debt he had with her…however, the details of this debt are virtually unknown by myself and the company alike…"

The lawyer pushed his glasses down along his nose, his brow furrowing. "And Mr Quinn's reasoning behind only being able to activate the account on this very day and only with you as the holder…well, I have to admit that it baffles me to no end…" He tilted his head at the page. "What is further curious is that I was initially prepared to believe that Mr Quinn took the name for his torch design from your own surname…but your great-grandmother's surname was Farrell. It wasn't until your grandmother Catherine Farrell got married that the surname changed to Albright…"

His eyes raised slightly to survey the young woman sitting at the other side of the table. "Do you have any idea as to why these strange stipulations or timely coincidences are in place, Miss Albright?"

Cassidy coerced herself into shrugging and shaking her head, forcing a confused look on to her face. "No. None at all."

"The letter didn't explain anything?"
Her hands curled a little more protectively around the folded pages in her grip. "Nothing of the sort…" As soon as the words left her lips, Cassidy felt as though she had answered a bit too quickly and sought to resolve any suspicions that Greenwich would have by adding. "Though, he talks a lot about "the future generation" in this letter so maybe this was his way of ensuring my family's future would be a good one…and today is my great-grandmother's birthday…" Her lips folded into a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "And I can only imagine that the name of the company is a fortuitous coincidence."

Truthfully, she had only ever met Greenwich once before.
Just a little before her parents' official divorce. She didn't know and had never known him well enough to be certain that he was the nosy type but she wasn't willing to risk him prying into her family's history or investigating this newly created "Stanley P. Quinn Mystery" any further than necessary.

"Ah, well, I suppose that explains one or two things then," the older man accepted, taking a pen from his top pocket. "Now then, if you'd like to jot your signature down here on this page…and…also here on this one, we can have everything moved into your name. You'll receive monthly updates from the All-Bright torch company, or ABT International, as it is known today and additionally, you'll be collecting your dividends in the manner of any other account. I actually think it best to join your shareholder's account with your current account, as we've already done with your late mother's account…"

"Sorry, sorry…" Cassidy lifted a hand to stop him, feeling her head starting to ache. Business Studies and Accountancy had always been her least favourite subject at school and topped by the fact that her mind wasn't quite in the room, the young woman had only a faint idea of what was actually going on. "Sorry to interrupt but…I was just wondering…like, I'm sorry for being slow…but what exactly…does all this mean? In short?"

Greenwich lifted both hands to remove his spectacles before looking Cassidy in the eye with a slow but bemused smile growing across his face.
"It means that you, Miss Albright…have just become a very wealthy woman."

Cassidy's mind suddenly slipped into a state of shock and it didn't emerge from this, even after the lawyer had left.
"And here I was worrying about taking pay-cuts during the next budget or getting my wages docked for damages to that display case," she murmured to herself, wide-eyed as she sank down into the lounge chair by the fireplace in the living room. "And now I'm…minted…"

It was the most bizarre feeling to stomach, let alone verbalise.
Any other person in this situation would probably be dancing around the room at this stage, digging up all of their old Wish-Lists and phoning friends to chat/gloat about the good news.
However, it wasn't as though money was going to sweeten her situation with Michael in any way, shape or form.
At least not in any way that Cassidy could immediately see.

Then again, the money didn't exactly sour her situation with the Weeping Archangel either.

"I haven't seen that many numbers on a page since I was studying for my final year History exam and I tried to draw four timelines on to one piece of paper," Cassidy muttered aloud, wide-eyed and staring into space as she recalled the account balance that Greenwich had shown her.

"What are you blathering about?"

Cassidy blinked and looked up from her starless-gazing only to see the Angel of stone, himself, standing over her- his arms held loosely at his sides, his majestic wings pulled behind his back and his expression as blank as ever.

"Nothing," the human girl dismissed, shifting in the seat and bringing her eyes to their familiar resting place: just focused on the rise of Michael's chin. She had selected this spot for the primary function of having somewhere definite to look when she was speaking to Michael. Cassidy was one of those odd people who found herself quite unable to speak consistently with someone unless she was looking them in the eye, face-to-face…and obviously with her Archangel captor this was rather impossible.
After a few occasions of focusing on this spot, Cassidy had come to passively notice that Michael had the smallest of clefts faintly lining the perfectly square edge that his broad jaw tapered to.
She was thus far unsure as to whether this fact amused her or not.

Cassidy brought herself to stand once more, with a sigh, supposing that she start working on filling his crevices once more before his impatience started to rear its ugly head.
"Apparently I've just come into a lot of money," she mused aloud as she took up her leather wallet of archaeological tools once more.

"Money," Michael repeated, rather scathingly with an added noise that Cassidy was willing to bet was a snort of laughter. "Those meaningless tokens of paper and metal that you humans use to barter with?"

"Yes. I'm glad you understand that."
"How did you happen upon this sudden windfall of money?"
There was a twinge of mocking in his voice as though just discussing the topic was somewhat novel to him.

"My mother left me a lot of it in her will…as did…a friend from the past…"
If Cassidy could avoid it, she planned on bringing up the Summer Bank Hotel and all of its occupants as little as possible.

"Her…will?"
"Yes, it's common practice for a human who is expecting to die to write out a document detailing whom they wish to take ownership of their possessions following their death…"

The stone Angel, now standing at Cassidy's back with his arms folded across his chest, gave what was definitely a snort of laughter.
"Humans. So materialistic and dependent on solid possessions even when on the brink of dying…"

Cassidy's ears went slightly deaf as Michael droned on with one of his consistent humans-are-an-inferior-species-and-this-is-why-rants.
As she worked, her mind began to mull about the fact that she, at that very moment, could buy pretty much whatever she wanted.
By the time she had finished polishing Michael off, she had made her mind up regarding what exactly her heart was set on purchasing. It was something that she'd wanted for quite a long time and additionally something that she was prepared to spend any quantity of money on just to receive within that hour.

"So that's one large pepperoni and bacon pizza with cheese stuffed crusts, a bottle of Coke, a box of four cookies, a large tub of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice-cream, a box of chicken tenders and a box of wedges…?"

"Yeah, that's everything. Thanks."

"And will that be for delivery or for collection?"

"Delivery. Definitely delivery."

"Alright, we've got your address on file here. Should be out to you in forty minutes or so. Thanks for choosing Domino's!"

Cassidy placed the phone down and let out a long, though shaky, exhale.
Just five minutes before she had placed the phone-call for pizza, she had checked her e-mails to find a message from the Museum. The e-mail detailed the fact that she would now be working under Edmund Potter due to Hewitt's "absence", which wasn't exactly a bad thing.
However, the message also called for her to return to work on Monday the 28th of November.
The following day.

Cassidy pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes tightening shut.
There was no way that Michael would let her leave the house- especially not to return to the place that was a communal meeting ground for the people whom he was willing to kill simply for the crime of "stealing" her attention.
And additionally, it would be a place where he would not be able to keep surveillance on her for fear of being caught.

It was then that the young woman happened upon one single, grim realisation.
The one thing that she truly wanted at that moment in time would need to be bought too.
Or bargained for.

Though Cassidy was suddenly starting to doubt whether or not she was prepared to pay the price at hand.

So yep! A bit of a shortie but like I said, I'm trying something new in order to post faster. Let me know if it works or if it doesn't!
Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed!
As always, I LOVE feedback so drop a review if you have time. :D