Hope you're all enjoying thus far!
Here's the next chapter!
I'd like to dedicate it to the story's newest followers, fluffix, God Is Wearing Black andITheRaven. I'd also like to dedicate it the wonderful Squirrel0304, whose kind reviews and PMs are always a source of delight for me and a major motivation to keep writing!
Und jetzt,
On with the show!
Iblis.
Iblis.
So that was his name.
"What is Iblis' location?"
The Angel repeated her insistent question.
The presumably stolen human voice maintained a flat, moodless tone but was steadily raising in volume.
Cassidy gritted her teeth behind her carefully pursed lips, her hand coming to pat the unravelling braids at the crown of Abbie's head. The softly crinkled auburn hair gently spooled out and around her knuckles as she automatically brought the little girl's head closer to her side.
"You mean Michael," Cassidy found herself badly wanting to say- but she didn't.
She resisted the burning urge to correct the Angel as she slowly tried to process what was going on. Very swiftly, the archaeologist decided that she was not going to give away any information regarding the Archangel's whereabouts until she knew exactly what those who confronted her planned on doing with it.
Making a series of rapid-fire connections, Cassidy spoke with the first inference that took shape at the fore of her mind.
"If you're one of the Angels from the Summer Bank," she began. "Remember that I escaped you all before. I'll do it again…" She couldn't help but add with a cynical snort of humourless laughter. "And all I did was cause trouble for you all anyway. That's me. The human called Cassidy Albright. Trouble follows me everywhere…"
"And I would have easily sworn that "Trouble" was his real name were I not now otherwise informed…"
"I know not of this Summer Bank you speak of," the Angel responded plainly. "And your penchant for attracting misdemeanour is none of our concern. Where is Iblis?"
So she wasn't one of the Angels from Summer Bank?
Cassidy was slightly taken aback by this.
If this Angel and the one upstairs was not one of those who had taken her prisoner before then how on earth did she know who Cassidy was, why did she target Abigail and what did she want with the Angel that the human woman had once called Michael?
Perhaps the Angel wasn't telling the truth, in order to coerce Cassidy into lowering her guard but then… after all her dealings with the Weeping Angels, she had never known them to lie.
They'd leave out information, of course.
They'd deceive using visual aids, certainly.
But they didn't seem to be very adept at explicit, verbal lying.
The human woman could fleetingly recall a moment during her time spent living with Michael, (as she had known him). Partially as his slave, partially as his captive but mostly- and oddly- as his bizarre choice of roommate.
Usually, she tried her hardest to avoid speaking to him but on this particular occasion, Cassidy's throat had gone rather raw and her brain had gone rather numb from a lack of any interaction.
"Nice weather we've been having," she murmured quietly, attending to the sensitive cracks at his waistline with another coat of warm resin. She didn't care whether or not he responded: she just rather wanted to prove to herself that she was still capable of using her long neglected voice.
"The weather?" the deep, baritone voice of the Archangel sounded from the sleek confines of the statue's hide. "It is perfectly abysmal outside. By the standards of my kind and also yours, it is bitingly cold and unfortunately, inconveniently wet…" He scoffed, the inhuman chortling emanating from the seraph's pearly-grey stone flesh. "Why do you speak such a heinous mistruth?"
"…I don't know," Cassidy replied, shrugging as she delicately pushed the clay-like mixture into the slowly widening fissures. "Sometimes telling a little lie can be a good way to start a conversation…"
The Archangel shifted at the human woman's blink, his inevitable chortle sounding much warmer now. For whatever reason.
"Humans are so amusingly odd…with the extent to which you all hinge your lives on dishonesty…"
Cassidy rolled her eyes, finding with frustration that the resin was too runny to set.
Her home supplies had been running low as of late and living as the forcibly appointed nurse to an over-active but self-starving Weeping Archangel, as such, was becoming increasingly difficult.
She turned away for a moment, walking to the coffee table to take up her scalpel once more.
"Well, haven't you ever lied to avoid an uncomfortable situation?"
She only realised how ridiculous the question sounded after it had left the tip of her tongue. "Or is that something else that the wonderful Weeping Angels find it physically impossible to humble themselves to doing?" Cassidy quickly added, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into her voice.
She instantly regretted her own abrasiveness.
It wasn't that she was worried about insulting the living statue- considering he wanted her to be a "perfect" human specimen and still thought of her as sickly and feeble, she doubted that he was going to do anything particularly brutal to her.
And it wasn't as though he didn't deserve the bitterness either.
An odd part of her just didn't want to come off as ignorant.
Not after living under ignorance.
Not the ignorance of an alien.
That- she could justify and tolerate, if not learn to accept.
No.
For so many years, Cassidy Albright had lived under the ignorance of a human man.
Until her mother had found the courage to end her own ignorance.
She had been expecting the sensation of ice-tipped claws at the sides of her neck, so Cassidy was surprised when the Archangel laughed again.
And his laughing seemed warmer again too.
"It is not that we biologically lack the ability to lie," he stated, matter-of-factly. "It would simply be considered culturally abnormal to distort the truth. We have no need of lying. Lies complicate everything from social interactions to how we reflect upon ourselves. At our core, our abilities aside, we Angels are an uncomplicated race…"
Now it was Cassidy's turn to give a small bark of laughter.
"What are you on about? Of course, you lot lie. You lie all the time. Your whole existence is a lie…a big, complicated lie."
"In what sense?"
She heard the rustle of his wings.
"Stop moving around. I mean it….and well, just look at you. You pretend to be an inanimate, lifeless, innocent statue and then as soon as a human being is unsuspecting, you pounce…you pretend to be something you're not."
Cassidy flinched, suddenly feeling his hand on her shoulder.
His palm briefly glanced over the unclothed skin of her upper shoulder and neck, reminding her of how smooth but cool his living flesh could be.
"And tell me, my Cassidy, how often do humans pretend to be something that they're not?"
The human woman shuddered, feeling him trace along the nape of her neck, parting her hair like a barley-coloured waterfall and exposing the chalky coloured skin.
"I told you not to move," she told him sharply.
She didn't answer his question.
Nor did she pull away from his hand, as she felt his fingers sift through her hair, caressing the back of her head.
"Oh," he all but cooed, in a softer voice than before. "I've missed your feistiness. That little streak of rebellion." The Archangel delicately wound a lock of her hair around his finger, releasing the ringlet with an air of playfulness that Cassidy could not think of an appropriate way to react to. "And ah, how I've missed your voice. Your lovely voice and your fierce words. Such a delightful contradiction to listen to…"
Cassidy swallowed at the feeling of his fingers coming to run beneath her chin, lifting it slightly, guiding her to stare straight ahead at the sitting room wall. Her breath left her body in a single, startled gasp when she felt his hand come to rest on the rise of her waist.
She felt his breath lick against her ear as he spoke.
"Please talk to me more often. Do not be so silent all of the time. It does not suit you and you cease to entertain me…"
Cassidy turned her head away from his touch, away from his voice.
"Speak to me with a little more respect and I might just speak back once in a while…"
The Archangel growled but the ominous noise slowly dissolved into a deep, guttural chuckle. "That's more like my Cassidy. Mmm…and what of your smile?"
She tried to wriggle away from him but he held her tightly in his tenure, one claw tracing the curve of her lips and pulling at the sides.
"Is the price to see your smile still a forest of roses or is there some other bargain that can be made so that I might see my sweet, little human smile for her master again?"
Cassidy gritted her teeth, shaking her head and struggling not to look down.
One glance at the Angel and he'd turn to stone, imprisoning herself against him.
"I told you to stop moving. That resin won't harden if you keep testing it."
"Then look upon me, Cassidy. Force me to remain still."
He released her completely, allowing her to turn around, only to be met by his grey, blank eyes- at level with hers- and a wide smile of his own across his lips.
Cassidy's let eye began to spasm at the corners, tearing pus forming in the sensitive clefts of tear-ducts and leaking over the tired, sore rims of her eyelids.
Still, biting down on inner part of her cheek until the taste of rust met her tongue, she refused to blink.
"I've told you already. I don't know where he is…"
Abigail let out a low whine at Cassidy's knee, fiercely poking the most sensitive part of the joint- desperately trying to signal to the woman but fear had partially robbed of her voice.
"Th-there's two Ange…two Angels at …the…the…top…'f th' stairs…"
Cassidy's already-fixed frown deepened greatly and as gently as she could manage, she guided Abbie's head away from her leg.
"I know it's scary, Abbie but you have to keep looking at them. Alright? Remember? Just like at Summer Bank." Her brow lowered, framing her twitching, leaking eyes with a look that she hoped looked intimidating as she stared at the Angel's forehead. "We defeated almost one hundred of them. If not more…and these ones, if they know what's good for them, will leave us alone because as I have said before I do NOT know where Mi-… Iblis is!"
The speaking Angel was quiet for a moment.
She was deliberately quiet, Cassidy was willing to wager.
Her Angel had never been short of something to say.
This Angel just wanted to see how long she could go without blinking.
This had become a game of wills.
Unable to go any longer denying her eyes the relief that they craved, Cassidy's eyelids snapped shut.
When she opened them again, the Angel was smiling.
She didn't want to look behind her, but she could easily tell from the noises that Abbie was making that the Angels at the top of the stairs were advancing on them.
Cassidy did her best to assure the girl through a series of head pats that everything was going to be alright, as she re-aligned her vision to stare at the smirking seraph's lips.
"What's so funny?"
"You are, Cassidy Albright," the Angel replied, her once moodless voice now glazed with clear amusement. "You wield dishonesty as though it is a weapon to be used in your favour…and with such confidence too. I know that you know where my brother is, Cassidy Albright. The infant human shows traces of his mental link but your entire form reeks of his presence…I know who you are, I know what role my brother expects of you and I know that you know where he resides at this moment in time…you are protecting him."
She was his sister?
His sister.
That was the connection.
"I am not protecting him. That's the last thing I'd do!"
"Then surrender to me the information that you hold. Do not risk the life of the child any further."
Abbie was crying again at this stage, rubbing her face against Cassidy's leg.
"I c-can't do it," she warbled between hiccups. "Keeping…keeping…my…my eyes o-open… is too ha-har-hard!"
Cassidy scowled deeply but slumping her shoulders, decided to opt for Abigail Drake's protection over her pride.
"I honestly don't know where he is right now but I know where he was. He was in a big building in the centre of London called a museum, being held in a giant purple containment box but another group of humans have taken him away since then…"
There was another moment of silence.
Somehow, this silence felt heavier- laced with the weight of complex consideration.
The Archangel's sister finally spoke, a note of triumph in her voice befitting the smile on her lips.
"Very well, Cassidy Albright. We shall leave you. Even if our renewed search proves fruitless, my brother will most certainly return to you…" Her stolen voice faded for a moment before reigniting in a much harsher tone. "We will show you mercy today, Cassidy Albright. Our brethren who keep watch over you might not be so lenient…or so forgiving…perhaps it should be in your prayers that the Archangel Iblis makes his return as soon as possible…"
Before the human woman could offer any form of response, the Angel seemed to evaporate into thin air, her body dissipating into pearly granules of grey that faded away with the last specks of light that leaked through the front-door window at her back.
Cassidy did not realise that she had been standing rigid, sweating and trembling until Abigail pulled on her sleeve.
"The other…the other Angels are gone," she said quietly and a little uncertainly, sniffing at intervals. "Should we …should we go now?"
Cassidy finally allowed her eyes to close before sliding her gaze down to the little girl who stood at her side.
The child's eyes were just as red and watery as hers and even if the reasoning behind this was for more than a completely different reason, Cassidy had never felt more companionship with this little girl.
She nodded, taking her hand firmly and guiding her down the stairs. She didn't stop or glance behind and nor did she allow Abbie to do the same.
She made sure the door was locked this time, checking the handle three or four times before jogging back to the footpath with her new travelling companion.
Her nerves were at an all time high, her heart beating so fast that her breathing was starting to rattle in her throat but at the end of the day- they were both alive.
That was all that mattered to her.
Cassidy led the five year old to the end of the drive-way, shutting the gate behind them both and fumbling for her phone to call a taxi.
"Are we going to your house now, Cassy?" Abigail asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve and still reluctant to leave the older woman's side.
"Yes," Cassidy mouthed, waiting for the dial tone and ordering them a cab with a voice that she hoped to the high Heavens didn't sound too anxious.
She remembered what had happened last time someone from the outside had tried to get involved in their situation.
Either the good Samaritan would get hurt or she would end up hospitalised, institutionalised or prey to the dark cloud that had loomed over her head since she'd left Summer Bank.
Quickly reminded of something, Cassidy looked down at Abigail and gave her hand a squeeze.
"Abbie, I've been thinking. You know the way the Doctor told you that telling your brother about…our adventure in the hotel might not be a good idea?"
Abigail nodded, thumbing the zip-line of her bag.
"Well," Cassidy went on. "Maybe it might not be a good idea to tell anyone about what happened here either. I think your brother might get frightened and worried and maybe when he's on his holidays, he shouldn't be that way…"
"Yeah," the little girl agreed, looking a little troubled. "Hmm, I…uh… maybe we should call the police?"
"No," replied Cassidy quickly. "No, Abbie. We can't. I tried it already and they didn't believe me…." She found her eyes falling on a distant row of hedging. "And they won't believe us now…"
"We could call the Doctor?"
"I don't have any way to call him," Cassidy said with a sigh. "He didn't leave me any means of contacting him." She forced herself to smile nice and wide, bending down so that she was eye-level with the little girl. "Don't worry though. I'll solve this problem. I'll get us out of this. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."
The twenty three year old archaeologist wanted to believe the calm, confident, reassuring voice that came from her mouth. It was the voice of a woman who sounded like she knew what she was doing.
Abigail seemed to believe this woman anyway, a gap-toothed smile breaking out across her face.
The little girl still shivered in the wake of a wintry gust that drew across them.
Cassidy eyed the pyjamas that Abigail had chosen to wear and sighed a little, shelling herself of her navy hoodie.
"Do you want to put this on, Abbie? This is the one that we all wear when we're going out on digs with the Museum. See the logo?" Cassidy handed the oversized garment to the pixie-like little girl. "You should get used to wearing one now. After all, when you become an archaeologist, you're going to have to wear one all the time, aren't you?"
Abigail beamed, nodding eagerly and causing her own fluffy red hair to bounce at her ears as she lifted her arms so that Cassidy could ease the jumper over her head.
Cold rain had started to drizzle down from the grey-lined heavens when the taxi cab finally arrived and Cassidy had long since draped her rain jacket around the little girl's shoulders to keep her dry.
They bundled themselves into the backseats, fumbling for seatbelts as the driver scrutinised them both.
Before the older of the two could offer a single word in protest, the little girl's head was in her lap.
"Where are we off to today, lovies?" the driver asked, catching Cassidy's wandering eyes in the rear-view mirror.
"Oakside, please," she bade him, shuffling beneath Abbie and trying to find comfort in her new position as a human pillow. "And could we please stop at an ATM somewhere along the way?"
The driver grumbled something incoherent about the current state of the traffic but Cassidy made no attempt to console his worries.
Perhaps a Cassidy who was about a month and half younger might have done so but in such a short space of time, she had developed a kind of cynicism towards the general public.
"It's your job to drive," she thought, looking out of the window and resting her head against the glass. "It's not as if you're not going to get paid at the end of the journey."
In the midst of the journey, Cassidy noticed the driver eyeing Abigail with a mixture of concern and suspicion.
Her little frame was starting to shudder and unless Cassidy was terribly mistaken, a small, warm, damp patch was starting to grow along the leg of her trousers: Abbie was crying again.
Cassidy caught the eye of the driver and managed to smile gently, stroking the back of Abbie's head. "We had a bit of a scare earlier. Our babysitter was a little bit late and missus had to sit at home alone for a while. We're all ok now, though. Aren't we?" Cassidy gave one of Abbie's plaits a gentle tug. "Will we order some takeaway now and get it ordered to the house for when we get back? Do you want some Chinese food?"
Abbie suddenly sat up straight, her head bobbing and a bright smile on her face.
"Yep. Yep!" she squeaked, eagerly taking Cassidy's phone from her hand. "I know the best place for Chinese takeaway! Leon and me call from there all the time!"
The taxi man laughed and Cassidy did too, despite feeling sick to her stomach.
This was all ephemeral and all temporary.
She was going to have to face the issue at hand.
Even if Mich…Iblis was now out of the way, his sister and another fine troupe of not-so-heavenly hosts were after her and Abigail and she had virtually no way to confirm to the little girl that the two of them would be safe enough to sleep soundly that night.
Fortunately, if there was one positive trait Cassidy had nurtured in herself over the last few weeks, it was the ability to think quickly and strategically.
Making snap-decisions and weighing up options were abilities that were coming easier and easier to her.
In the time it took the person at the Chinese takeaway to understand Abbie's excited garbling and to take down her order, Cassidy had come up with what she hoped was a viable plan for their survival.
The driver's grumbling and sighing came to an abrupt halt when they pulled into the front driveway of the house and Cassidy handed him a hundred pound note, telling him to "keep the change."
It dawned on Cassidy as they crossed the threshold of the front door that she should definitely try to call Leon before she did anything else.
Unfortunately, Abbie had not memorised her brother's phone number, she had left the note pad with all emergency numbers back at the house and she had absolutely no idea where Leon and Shauna were staying.
After a little bit of detective work, Cassidy managed to work out their location and whispering a silent prayer under her breath, desperately hoped that this phonecall would run smoothly.
Luckily for them both, the concierge was polite and friendly and didn't ask too many questions. "The hotel only has one reservation under the name "Drake." I'll put one of the guests on to the phone for you now, ma'am…"
Cassidy just about jumped out of her skin when an uncertain female voice came on to the line.
"Hello? Who's this?"
It took Cassidy a good half a minute to catch on that this was probably Shauna on the phone and took note of how embarrassingly quavery her voice was when she finally managed to stammer into the mouth-piece.
"H-Hi…this is Cassidy Albright…from the museum…Is this…Shauna?"
There was a little bit of a silence and then Shauna spoke in reply.
"Oh…ok?"
There was a definite hint of an aren't-you-that-girl-who-fancies-my-boyfriend-and-did-all-that-crazy-stuff-at-the-museum? tinge to her voice, if it was even possible to convey that much emotion in the space of three syllables.
"Uh…this is about Abbie," Cassidy said quickly, deciding sharpishly that she should lay her cards on the table as soon as possible. "She called me a while ago saying that her babysitter never showed up and that she was on her own. I came to the house because she sounded really upset but I couldn't manage to get through to the babysitter over the phone…"
"Oh? Oh!" There was an unmistakable note of relief to Shauna's words. "Oh, really? What? Is Abbie ok?"
"Yeah, she's fine. She's calmed down completely now."
There was a brief mumble in the background as Shauna presumably filled Leon in with the details and his voice was the first thing to greet Cassidy on the phone when the chatting resumed.
"Hey Cass! Oh God, I'm so, so sorry about this. I've no idea why Kate's not picking up her phone. I just tried to call her there again but I've got nothing. This is so unlike her!"
"It's fine. It's completely fine. What matters is that Abbie is alright…if you'd like, she can stay with me for a bit while you fix up another babysitter? Actually, if you're only going to be away for the next few days, I'd have no problem with keeping an eye on her until you both get back…"
"Awh, Cass…I couldn't ask you to do that…"
"Well, look, you're on holidays. You're supposed to be relaxing. I have no problem looking after Abbie. I've babysat her plenty of times before."
"…if it's no trouble to you, you'd actually really be doing me a favour."
"It's no bother, really. Here, do you want to talk to her yourself?"
She let Abigail take the phone and as she nattered away to her older brother, Cassidy answered the door, collected Abbie's take-out and set it up on the living room coffee table.
When goodbyes were finally said, Abigail happily grabbed a cushion and came to sit beside Cassidy.
"Have you ever had chicken with black bean sauce before, Cassy? It doesn't taste at'all like baked beans!"
The little girl shovelled a spoonful of the steaming brown mixture on to her newest guardian's plate and the older woman smiled, deciding to take her word for it.
Netflix wasn't working quite so well, (Cassidy was prepared to blame a bill here or there that hadn't been paid yet), so she turned to her DVD collection.
At some point during Cassidy's early teenage years, she and her mother had bonded over a shared love of Japanese films and a variety of anime series. When they weren't watching the National Geographic or the History Channel, they were commenting on the latest Studio Ghibli movie with the air of two experienced film critics.
Cassidy sifted through her shelves, her eyes pricking a little bit with nostalgia as she skimmed over some of the titles that she had first watched with her mother but she managed to keep herself composed.
"Hmm…what might you like…?"
Kuroshitsuji? Definitely not. For many reasons.
Elfen Lied? Definitely not. For many more reasons.
Hetalia? She wouldn't get most of the jokes, Cassidy decided.
Dragon Ball Z? Probably too violent, she mused.
"This one. I used to watch this one on tv with Leon…"
Abbie's hand reached over Cassidy's shoulder and her finger stabbed the spine of a Naruto box set.
Cassidy checked the packaging to make sure that the DVD had the English-dubbed version and content that she'd found a string of episodes where the content wasn't too questionable, she put it on.
With Abbie perfectly distracted, Cassidy escaped to the phone in the hallway.
She had a few very important errands to run.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the mouth-piece and dialled the first number.
A different number, however, pervaded her conscience.
Unlike Abbie, she had no problem with remembering any kind of number sequence and she doubted that this particular number was ever going to be erased from her memory entirely.
"We'll start the bidding at two hundred…do I have two hundred? Two hundred from the gentleman at the back. Two fifty? Do I see two fifty? Two fifty, it is. Two sixty, raised…"
The Auction Hall was stifling.
"The standing bid is two sixty…do I have two seventy? Sir? Yes. Two eighty? Two eighty? Three hundred from the phones? Can anyone give me three ten?"
Apparently, an over-anxious intern- with ears turned purple from the constant berating of patrons for the main hall being "like a freezer"- had turned on the heating that morning at a time far earlier than recommended and at a temperature setting that was far higher than recommended.
"Three ten from the lady here in the centre. Sir, do I see three twenty from you? Three twenty from the gentleman in the back. Three fifty, from this gentleman in the front! Can anybody raise us from here? Three sixty? Three seventy?"
The sky-light windows allowed the faintest traces of Winter sun to seep through and particles of dust sparkled like weighted flakes of snow where they crossed into its rays.
The wood panelled walls gleamed with almost as much brilliance as the finely polished antiques and newly glossed samples of modern artwork and their collected glares were only contested by the shine of perspiration on the brow of each porter as they hauled, lugged and cradled each piece to the stage.
"Four hundred! Four hundred is our current bid. Will anyone raise us higher again? Four fifty from the phones. Four fifty. Four fifty is our current bid. Sir, madam, can either of you raise us higher again? Just a reminder again, this piece is authentic…"
As was often the case with a formal auction, noise was kept to an absolute minimum.
The only sounds were the occasional cough from an overworked porter, the hushed and frantic whispering of patrons, the fierce clatter of typing from the online correspondents and of course, the constant, partially garbled spiel of the head auctioneer as he spoke into his slightly-too-loud microphone.
"Four fifty is our current bid again. Do I see five hundred? Five hundred, it is, sir! Five hundred is our standing bid, do I see five fifty? Five fifty? From anyone? From the phones, five fifty? Five hundred, going once…five fifty! I see five fifty from this gentleman over here! Does anyone care to raise us higher?"
Edmund usually tried to avoid these kinds of events like the plague.
It was customary for the Museum to send one or two representatives from their archaeology teams to most auctions for the purpose of "authentication issues."
In truth, the items had been long-authenticated before they had even passed the doors of the auctioneer's warehouse. The presence of the Museum professionals was more or less just to serve as an insurance should a particularly shrewd patron seek to contest any of the suggested prices on the basis of the piece's authenticity.
And this rarely happened.
No, it was usually just a lot of standing around, cups of coffee and polite head tilts for the Museum representatives.
"Five fifty! Five fifty on the table. We have to close this one soon. Five fifty is our current bid. Will you raise us, madam? No? Five fifty is here. Five fifty going once…"
Edmund had learned a long time ago that once he had gained a bit of seniority at the Museum, it was quite easy to "appoint" other members of staff the "honour" of going in his place and it was a favourite practice of the more experienced few on the team to send interns and students on work experience in their place.
"Five fifty going twice…"
However, in this situation, Edmund very much had to be at the auction house.
For once, he was genuinely smiling as he sipped at his macchiato, waiting for a nearby phone to become available so that he could call Cassidy with the good news.
"Sold to the gentleman sitting in the back-row. Now let us move on to our next lot. This is lot forty-two, a truly unique piece of the artist Ronnie Jackman's earlier work…"
Edmund could barely contain himself when he finally managed to get through to Cassidy.
"Hey, I've got news that's going to make you smile, Cass."
"Yeah?"
"The Angel went up for bid in the last hour…"
"And?"
"He went for £350,000. Going to be shipped out tomorrow morning. No mess. No fuss."
"Who bought him?"
"Never saw his face. It was a phone bidder."
"And he bought him even with the crate?"
"Yep. Seemed pretty eager too."
"Did you get a name?"
"Yeah, someone called…uh… ? Daft, right? Might be pronounced bouquet, for all I know…my God, these posh, quirky types crack me up something awful…"
"Y-Yeah…so he's officially been sold then…?"
"It's definite. Great, huh? And I heard your hearing went well! Guess, I'll be seeing you back in the office on Monday."
"Yes…yes, I suppose you will. My apprenticeship is pretty much up though…so I'm not sure what Stanford's going to have me doing."
"Well, you've been offered that position with Doctor Rosenstock in Ireland, right?"
"I have but that's not until the new year and well…it's Ireland…for an entire year…I'm just not so sure about the change of scenery…"
"Might do you good. Might be fun."
"Maybe…"
"Well, if you decide to do it, let me know. I can get you anything you need. Recommendations, references…anything…"
"…thanks Ed. Really, thanks…"
"No bother…actually, before I forget, what are you doing for Christmas? I know we've the staff Christmas party and Secret Santa and all but what about actual Christmas day and Boxing day? Any plans?"
"Oh…yeah, I do. Thanks but I…I'm pretty sure I'm having dinner with Christine and Nancy…"
"Ah, well. No problem. Listen, I've got to go now but I'll talk you on Monday, alright?"
"Alright. Thanks then Ed."
"Seeya, Cass."
Silence and partial darkness had stolen over StormCage Prison.
Captain Rhozen Latryfel had dealt with some pretty vicious inmates in his five years of service in the galaxy's most secure, most infamous prison. For a good ninety-nine percent of his time there, he had no problem with interacting with the occupants of the cells. His usual composure when taking care of prisoners consisted of a poker face, a cold shoulder and a stiff upper lip.
And ninety-nine percent of the time, he was good at maintain this.
Unfortunately, at least once a night, he was forced to inspect the cell of the one prisoner with whom maintaining this was quite impossible.
With a knuckles fit to burst from the skin that covered them, he kept a tight grip on his torch and shone it through the projected laser bars and Irokian quanti-glass panels.
"Professor Song? Is…is everything alright in there?"
The prisoner in question uncrossed her legs and looked up from where she lay, eyes glinting in the low light.
"Peachy as always, Captain Latryfel. How are things with you this evening?"
"Good. Good."
His eyes narrowed at the sight of the scarlet hue that flushed her glinting, smirking lips. No matter how many tubes of that blasted hallucinogenic lipstick that they managed to confiscate, she always managed to summon a few more.
Latryfel made the swift decision to wait until the following morning to search her cell for the latest contraband. He'd have better light, more back-up and most importantly, more witnesses should the damned woman try anything…funny.
River Song watched as the almost charmingly bumbling young Captain continued with his rounds and waited for him to round the corner outside her cell before pulling the red notebook out from beneath her mattress.
"Just a bit of light reading before bed," she murmured to herself with a grin.
True, the Doctor hadn't quite given her permission to take the notebook that contained all he knew about Cassidy Albright's future but River had decided that this was for the best.
After all, her sweetie was blinded by a mixture of rage and guilt and this was never a good thing for him when he was trying to help someone.
Were he in the right mind-set, she had decided, he would practically be begging her for her assistance and insight…
…and it wasn't as though she had much better to do while living out her sentence.
Making full use of a trick she had learned from the Doctor himself, River loosely opened the book and dropped it on to her lap.
"Time to see which page you look at the very most, sweetie…"
The spine creased itself and gave way, the pages leafing open and settling on a set of well-thumbed pages that appeared to have another set of notepaper glued down on to them.
River chuckled faintly. "You were never that good at deleting your history, were you?"
She was forced to quickly stifle her amusement and to stash the book beneath her sheets as a loud thumping from down the corridor heralded the return of the guard.
She had no immediate fear of any of the security staff at StormCage but if she planned on returning the book to the TARDIS before it was missed, she really couldn't have it confiscated, now could she?
Certain that her reading would go uninterrupted once more, River took the notebook out once more and flipped it open to the most viewed pages.
"Now, this book wasn't given to my sweetie who's currently working this case…it was given to the one before…the one in the converse runners… his past, Cassidy's future…"
River very quickly noticed something quite odd about the pages in comparison to the rest of the notebook.
The rest of the notebook was comprised of a series of short paragraphs, scribbled out in a faint lead pencil in a mixture of Gallifrean loops and the Doctor's own person short-hand.
These four pages were hand-written entirely in English, in a black biro pen.
They certainly didn't look as though they were written by her husband by any means and a quick glance through their content confirmed exactly what River had suspected.
"These were written by Cassidy herself…she must have given them to you…"
The further River read into the carefully written entries, the closer her brows knitted together. Each new line either confirmed for River something that she already had theorised about or revealed to her something that raised her pulse a little.
After the first page alone, she made the decision that sweetie would definitely need to keep an eye on this situation.
After the second page, River felt the need to put the notebook down.
One line stood out above all.
"It came to the point where my life was threatened as it never had been before and had it not been for him at my side, I surely would not be here to write these words."
"Who's that lady again?"
"Which lady?"
"That lady?" Abbie insisted.
"That's not a lady, Abbie," Cassidy laughed softly, crossing her legs on the sofa. "That's a man."
"But he has really long hair," Abbie commented, tilting her head and scrutinising the screen through mouthfuls of prawn crackers. "Really, really long. Long enough for a ponytail."
"Well boys can have long hair and ponytails too, can't they?"
"Mmm…yeah…maybe they can…"
The little girl yawned slightly, resting her head against Cassidy's arm.
"I'm thinking it might be bed-time soon for the two of us," Cassidy suggested, taking a sip from the mug at her side. "I have to get up early tomorrow morning."
"Do you have work, Cassy? Are we going to the Museum?"
"No…I have a package that's being delivered to the house…I have to be awake when it arrives…"
"Oh…"
Abigail looked up at the older woman at her side.
"Hey, Cassy? Can I tell you something?"
Cassidy turned to look at her, concerned at the troubled look that suddenly overcast her face.
"What's the matter, Abbie?"
"You know the Angel we met earlier? The one in my house who talked and said she was Michael's sister?"
"…yes."
"She kinda sounded like Mrs Pattinson…"
The two sat in silence for a moment and then a small smile formed on Cassidy's face. She pointed to the television.
"This is really funny. Watch this bit….you don't want to miss it…"
Abbie spluttered with laughter at the sight of characters' antics and Cassidy's forced smile became a genuine one.
It was short-lived.
But it was genuine.
Distraction was what Abbie needed right now.
Cassidy needed it too.
At least until the following morning.
Then the real test of her judgement began.
Thanks for reading along! Hope you've enjoyed!
Have a very merry Christmas and a very happy new year!
I don't know about you guys and girls but I am VERY excited for this year's Christmas special! Twelve and Santa! Awesome!