A Trip to London

Dreven City...

Duncan finished packing what meager belongings he would need for the trip. No cloak, no sword, as Cate had instructed him. A dagger, she had said, would be acceptable, so long as he kept it hidden from view.

He wondered what sort of place was this London -- the world of indoor plumbing, Irish Whiskey, and Thoreau. He grimaced at the thought of Thoreau -- he had not been too impressed by what little Cate had read him -- though the idea of indoor plumbing sounded intriguing enough, and he had already developed a fondness for Irish Whiskey, which he often referred to as "the good stuff".

Duncan laid a hand against the pommel of his sword, the feel of it against his palm as familiar as that of an old lover. He absently caressed the hilt with his fingertips before unbuckling the sword from his belt. Though he had packed a dagger, he felt uneasy leaving the sword behind. It was almost as if it was a part of him. Unless bathing or sleeping, he was rarely without it, and even then, it was always kept within reach. One never knew, after all, when one would need it. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Satisfied his packing was complete -- Cate had told him all he would need was a change of clothes -- he pulled the pack closed and tossed it over a shoulder. There was one thing she had not mentioned and that was silver. He wasn't sure what kind of coin they used in London, but he had learned it was better to be prepared. Besides, like Kirin had said, portals could be unpredictable at times and he wasn't going anywhere without a small pouch of silver and a trusty dagger, whether Cate liked it or not.

Even if Cate didn't understand, he knew Kirin would. She seemed to know his heart and mind better than anyone, sometimes even better than those who'd known him for years. Shouldering the pack, he made his way down the stairs of his family's home, his thoughts drifting over the events of the last few days -- events that had led up to this trip.

His mind lingered a moment on Connor and Tristan. He'd been to Balthazor to visit his friends and bid them farewell, only to find Connor's condition unchanged and Tristan gone with his father to find whoever was responsible. He'd spent most of his time there visiting with Beth and Cait, and though they'd reassured him that everything would be fine, part of him felt guilty for abandoning his friends in their time of need. Still, there was little he could do for Connor, and he had no idea where Tristan could be found.

And then, there was Cate to think about. Duncan breathed a soft sigh as he made his way outside and started on foot for the Crosswinds Tavern, where he was to meet Cate and Kirin. What exactly what happening between them? Did he dare hope for a second chance at love? No. A third chance, he corrected himself. First, there had been Mara -- his childhood love, who had turned down his proposal of marriage, in part prompting his initial departure from Dreven. And then, there had been Esme -- not much younger than Cate when he'd lost her to some strange illness. Even after all these years, her death still haunted him and kept him aloof, too afraid to love and lose yet again.

Duncan's stormy gray eyes wandered over the road ahead. He felt oddly naked without the sword's familiar weight at his side, but he had no intentions of being ambushed yet again. It was, in fact, that particular incident that had prompted him to push for this trip. He wanted to get Cate as far away from Dreven as he could for as long as possible. He knew he'd still have to deal with the situation when they returned, but the trip would allow him some time to think and at the same time, keep her out of harm's way. He had considered that perhaps he should distance himself from her -- that it was dangerous for her to be associated with him -- but somehow he knew she wouldn't listen. Not unlike himself, she was too stubborn for her own good, at times.

He was, in fact, starting to realize there might be only one solution to his little problem with Stefan -- either he'd have to leave Dreven for good or take matters into his own hands, and he was leaning toward the latter. Fight fire with fire. He could go to the authorities but knew they'd probably do nothing, which left him little choice in the matter.

Duncan pushed the thoughts of Stefan and his thugs to the back of his mind. So long as they were in London, he didn't have to worry about that. And they didn't dare touch Mara. He'd kill them if they did.

His thoughts drifted back to Mara again and he frowned. He knew he should visit her before leaving for London. There was no doubt in his mind she'd be angry with him for not saying good-bye, but he wasn't sure he could bear her tears yet again. She had made her choice long ago, and though they would always be friends, he no longer loved her the way he once had -- the way, perhaps, that she wanted him to.

Duncan drew a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Autumn was around the corner. The nights were turning cooler and the leaves were starting to change. It was his favorite time of year, and his thoughts were once again drawn back to London. What would it be like there? Would it be anything like Dreven? Bigger, Cate had said -- a bustling city with something to keep one busy any time of day or night. He smiled at the thought of it.

He wondered if she had any idea what this trip meant to him. He had always been a wanderer, even as a child -- always exploring, looking for adventure. His travels had taken him far and wide, even out to sea, and there was a whole new world of adventure awaiting him on the other side of the portal. To have the opportunity to explore a different world was a rare treat and one Duncan wasn't about to miss, no matter what the consequences might be.

Through the Portal...

The first thing Cate noticed was cold, cloying mist on her cheek. The second thing she noticed was the sweet scent of grass. She opened her eyes and found herself laying face-up on a lawn. She struggled to sit up and saw that somehow, they hadn't ended up where Kirin had intended. Then she noticed that Kirin was no where to be found. "Kirin? Kirin!"

Duncan groaned to himself as he rolled to his knees, finding the grass beneath him damp, a slight chill to the air. He already regretted leaving his cloak behind.

Cate stood, feeling a little wobbly, and cast a panicked look around her. Spotting Duncan, she went to his side and knelt down next to him, her hands gripping his arm. "Some thing's wrong, Duncan. Kirin's missing."

Duncan pressed a palm against his forehead and staggered to his feet, blinking to clear his vision and get a look at his surroundings. "What?" he asked a little disoriented. He blinked again as he looked at Cate. "What are you talking about?"

Cate straightened and stood next to him, her hand still on his arm. "We're not where we're supposed to be. We were supposed to be in the basement of a house and this... well, this looks like a park or something. And I don't see or hear Kirin anywhere." She waved her free hand around, indicating the world at large.

Duncan cast a glance around, slow in realizing their predicament. "Isn't this London? Kirin?" he called. "Damn bloody portal," he muttered.

"I have no idea. I can't tell. It certainly could be - I've never known anywhere as foggy as London and it certainly is foggy." She moved closer to him, regretting leaving behind her jacket in Dreven. She was cold and it was only partially because of the fog.

Duncan instinctively slipped an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right. We just have to figure out where we are." Little help he'd be there as he'd never been to London. "Do you recognize anything?"

She shook her head and took his hand. "Come on." She started moving through the fog with a Londoner's inborn sense of direction. After living for nearly 23 years in a place where fog covers the ground most of the time, she had learned to navigate without being able to see clearly.

He peered around again, finding it difficult to see anything through the dense fog. He hurried to follow her, tightening his grip on her hand, suddenly worried about losing her in the mist.

"Hold my hand. Don't let go or you'll no doubt fall in a ditch and break your bloody leg." She inhaled deeply, smelling the tang of the Thames River and ... coal? She whispered, "That's not right."

"I'm not going to-" he broke off hearing her whispering to herself. "What? What's the matter?"

She stopped, inhaling again. "The air doesn't smell right. Too much coal. No car emissions." She was mostly talking to herself.

"Coal?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Car missions?" The words rolled foreignly off his tongue.

Cate shook her head and held up her hand. "You'll see. Hopefully." That last was said quietly, under her breath. She set off again through the fog, buildings taking ghostly shape in the distance.

"Cate, if we're not where we're supposed to be, do you think it's wise to wander away from the portal? Or do you think it's Kirin who is lost?"

She stopped again and turned to look at him. "You're right. But..." She was torn. She was home, in London, with Duncan, and the chance to show him her world was nearly overwhelming. "What do you want to do? Stay here? Wait for Kirin?"

"I think if Kirin was coming, she'd be here by now," he replied.

"I think I know where we are." She pointed to an imposing building, barely discernible in the fog. "I believe that's Regent's College. And if that's Regent's College, then we're in Regent's Park. And if this is Regent's Park, we're about four miles away from my flat in Chelsea. So. What do you want to do?"

"That's your decision, Cate. This is your world." He swung a look around, it all looked foreign to him.

Cate was still torn. She weighed the sensibility of staying near the portal with the urge to go home. With a sigh, she took his hand again and lead him towards the building in front of them. "Come on, then. If worst comes to worst, we can always go to Loch Lomond."

"Lock what?" he asked curiously as he took her hand.

Cate set off towards the building in front of them. "Loch Lomond; it's a lake in Scotland. Where I came through to Dreven the first time. There's a portal there that's pretty stable. I've used it three times now."

"What about Kirin?" he asked as he followed at her heels.

"She knows the city as well as, if not better than, I do. She's back and forth all the time. I'm sure she'll be fine. She's a faerie, for Pete's sake."

"Aye," he replied, biting his lip with a worried look as he tried to keep pace beside her. He was too busy trying to make sure he didn't lose sight of her to take in his surroundings much.

Regent's College became clearer the closer they came to it, but something about it wasn't quite right. Where the students? Where where the cars? Cate stopped without warning, her feet rooted in place. "This is not right, Duncan."

He halted quickly, almost bumping into her. He looked around. "What's not right?" None of it looked right to him, but he wasn't sure what right was supposed to look like.

"This." She waved around. "Regent's Park is one of the busiest places in London. There's a college here. There's a zoo. There's football fields and cricket pitches and gardens. Where are all the people?"

Duncan looked around, following the wave of her hand, baffled, he had no idea how to answer her. "I... don't know." If she didn't know, he certainly wouldn't.

Cate smiled up at him, loving him for trying to answer a rhetorical question. "Come on. There's only one way to find out what's going on and that's to see exactly where we are."

"I'm right behind you." Duncan returned her smile, but there was worry in his eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand, wishing he'd brought his sword and his cloak.

She moved closer still to the building, frowning softly. It didn't look like right. It wasn't the familiar facade of Regent's College. She stopped at the edge of a graveled drive and gaped. It was still the South Villa! "Bloody hell." She whispered and turned to Duncan, alarm plainly showing in her eyes.

He couldn't help but notice the alarm in her eyes, and fear gripped his heart, if only for a brief moment, but he did his best not to show it. "What is it, Cate?"

"We're off the mark. By at least a hundred and fifty years." The blood drained from her face as she realised that not only was dimensional travel possible, but time travel, too! He saw her face turn pale and caught her by the arm, afraid she might faint. She clung to him tightly, whispering, "One hundred and fifty years."

"It's all right. We can still find our way back. We know where we came out, and we still have Kirin's calling card. We'll be fine." To him, this was just another adventure. He was concerned for her safety, however. "That's not that long. How much could have changed in a mere hundred and fifty years years?"

She nodded, grateful for his presence. Then an ironic smile curled her lips. "Oh, a hundred and fifty years is a big deal. Trust me. Things are not even remotely comparable between this time and my own."

Eager to explore, he couldn't help but tell her. "Show me."

Cate laughed and took his hand again. The sun was just beginning to set and burning through the fog, showing the city of London in the late 1800's - a forest of coal-burning smokestacks crowding close-set houses. "Is there a fire somewhere?" Duncan asked upon seeing all the smoke. He turned in place, taking a better look around him at the strange surroundings.

As they walked, she attempted to explain coal. "Yes, it's called coal. It's... Well, it's sorta like what's left over after you burn a log. The black chunks of charcoal. It's a cheap way of providing heat."

"Coal," he repeated the word. "So, you don't use wood then?"

Cate shook her head. "The trees are long since gone from London. They've all been cut down, either to use for heat or to build houses or just simply to clear more land for people."

"Cut down?" He halted in his tracks, looking appalled. "All of them?"

She stopped, too, and nodded. "There's little clumps here and there, but mostly, they're gone."

Duncan muttered. "Gods..."

Cate smiled softly and moved closer to him. "It's different than anything you'll ever experience."

He looked around again, almost as if hoping to prove her wrong and find just one tree somewhere. He looked back at her. "I'm not afraid of different." There were trees about, but they were carefully groomed by teams of gardeners. There were no wild woods in this part of the city. Farther to the west and to the north, Duncan would find the kind of wilds that he was more used to. "There are trees, they're just..." Cate smiled, waiting for it to sink in. "Different," he finished.

"Yes, they're groomed. Rich people can afford to have gardeners come and fix their trees into prettier shapes," Cate said.

He suddenly realized he was not in Lyran Tal anymore. "We're really here, Cate."

She laughed. "Yes, we're really here. Come on. Let's go find a pub. I'm dying to know what year it is."

He smiled, eager to learn and see more, he found his heart was beating a little bit faster at the thought of it. "'A pub. What's a pub?" he asked.

"Like the Tavern. Only without a big fire pit, the Portal and Abby's cooking."

Duncan grinned. "Will they have Irish Whiskey?"

Cate matched his grin. "They'll have something even better. Twenty year old Glenmorangie port Scotch."

"I can't even say that and you expect me to drink it?" His eyes gleamed with good humor.

Cate laughed. "Glen. More. An. Gee." She enunciated each syllable clearly and slowly so he could understand.

"Glen...more..." He sighed, giving it up as a bad job. "Scotch. I can say that." He smiled down at her. "So, where's this pub of yours?"

She smiled and led him across the York Bridge and out onto Marleybone Road. She stood for a moment, trying to decide whether to go east to Euston or west towards Paddington. She cocked her head to the side and looked him over, and then down at herself. She was wearing her typical homespun and thought maybe it would be acceptable for Euston, a primarily working-class neighbourhood.

"Are you cold?" He asked as they came to a halt.

Cate replied, "A little."

"You should have let me bring my cloak." He smiled and swung an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "It's lucky we're not here in December. We'd be frozen to death by now. It must be October, maybe even September." She turned and lead him east towards Euston.

"We'd just have to keep each other warm then." Duncan grinned lasciviously at her. He continued to follow, at her side this time, his stride easy and unhurried now that they'd decided where they were going.

She quirked a brow and glanced up at him, trying to decide if he was teasing or not. Finally deciding to err on the side of caution, she shook her head and told him, "Keep an eye out for men dressed in blue suits with funny hats."

"Blue suits with funny hats? Why?"

"They're like the City Guard. They'll be helpful if we get lost." Which was a definitely possibility. Street names had changed, buildings had been torn down and rebuilt so many times between now and Cate's own time.

"Oh, I see. I thought this was a peaceful place," Duncan said. Why else would they not need to carry swords?

"Now, not so much. In my own time, for the most part, people are safe." She shivered and huddled closer to him and picked up her pace a little.

"For the most part?" he asked, arching a brow.

Cate looked up at him. "Remember I was telling you about ... genocide, nuclear holocausts, serial killers?"

He nodded. "Aye, I remember." He felt her shiver and pulled her closer. "Why?"

She sighed softly, once more grateful for his presence. "Those are things that people in my time worry about. Here, I'd imagine things are a bit more personal."

"Personal?" He was full of questions, it seemed, all of this new to him. "What do you mean?"

"Muggings, banditry, having your hand cut off for stealing. That sort of thing," she replied.

"It sounds like home during the time of the Klocks. Lovely."

She nodded and looked around the street again. They were disturbingly alone, not so much as a carriage and two or foot traffic passing them by. She glanced over the buildings they passed and they all had a lonely, shuttered feeling. There was a discarded newspaper fluttering in the wind and Cate stopped to pick it up. Duncan, too, looked around. Unsure of what this London was supposed to look like, it was hard for him to compare, but it seemed a bit too quiet even to him. He looked over Cate's shoulder, squinting a little, and was surprised to see that he could read the print with little trouble and understand its meaning.

"Another Murder At The East-End!" screamed the headline. Cate glanced over the front page, the names Mary Ann Nichols, Whitechapel, and Spitalfields leaped off the page at her. She glanced at the dateline and saw 10 September 1888. Cate stumbled backwards, the blood draining from her face. She whispered, "Ruddy hell. Jack the bleedin' Ripper! Oh, god."

Duncan turned to follow her, his arm falling away from her shoulder as she stumbled backwards. Who?" He shook his head in confusion. "You know of this murderer they write of?"

She turned to Duncan. "This is September of 1888, Duncan." She dropped the paper like it was on fire. "They're warning about Jack the Ripper. He was... He's one of those human monsters I told you about."

"A murderer roaming the streets?" He shook his head, concerned now that there was a killer on the loose and they appeared to be the only ones on the streets. "Let's get to this pub of yours. It should be safe there."

Cate nodded and moved closer to him still. "He's terrible, Duncan. Murdered at least five girls, butchered them horribly, mutilated their bodies...their faces. He was never caught. No one had a clue who he was. Still don't. Or won't, I guess, in my own time."

The color drained from his face and he clenched his jaw. He snagged hold of her hand. "Let's go." Cate held his hand tightly and started off again, headed towards the Crown and Rose pub in the Euston neighbourhood. He muttered, "Should have brought my bloody sword." Duncan was more watchful now, casting a glance here and there, making sure they're not being followed.

The pub doors were open to the street, raucous voices spilling out along with heat, light and the delicious smell of roasting beef. He heard the voices and quickened their pace toward the presumably relative safety of the pub. Cate stepped across the threshold and glanced over the room. It was mostly filled with working class men and a few women. The place was mostly filled, but there was a table near the back that was unoccupied. She made a beeline for it, claiming a seat, but leaving the seat facing the door open for Duncan. He followed her toward the table, though at a slightly less hurried pace, and claimed the chair. He reached for her hand. "Are you all right?"

Cate sank into the chair, aware of eyes on her, the skin between her shoulder blades itched. She took his hand and gripped it tightly. "I'm just...a little spooked. It's like walking into a nightmare, Duncan."

He made no notice of anyone who might be watching them, his first concern and attention was for her safety. "Perhaps we should wait for daylight and then try to find our way back." He leaned close and kept his voice low. "It's not safe to wander about now. There must be some place we can stay for the night. Does this place rent rooms? Shall I ask?"

She nodded. "I'm sure there's a rooming house somewhere near."

A rather surly looking serving girl came and asked for their orders. Cate glanced over at the bar and thought for a moment. "A Guinness for me. Duncan?"

He looked up at the girl. "Make that two, please. And can you tell me where we might find a room for the night?" To those around them, Duncan probably sounded like he had an odd accent, not quite like Irish or Scottish, but there were similarities. The girl replied that there was one room above and if they wanted it, they'd better get it now. Then she left to get their stouts.

"Should we take it?" he asked Cate. She nodded and watched the girl as she came back with two pints full of dark stout. These were set down in front of them and the girl waited for her payment. "How much for the room?"

The girl answered, "A quid, sir. Plus tuppence for the stouts."

He reached into his money pouch and pulling out a single silver coin, he handed it to her. "Will this cover it?" The coin was obviously made of silver, though it had the face of someone she wouldn't recognize on its face.

The girl's eyes grew wide and she reached for the coin. "Foreign coin?" The girl studied it closely. Cate smirked. "Yes, from America. That's Abraham Lincoln's face there." The girl looked at Cate and then Duncan and shrugged, turning for the bar again, apparently accepting the payment.

Duncan leaned close and said in a quiet voice, "It is Cornelius Dreven on that coin."

Cate blew out a relieved sigh and reached for the stout. She sipped it, pleased that it tasted the same. Then she chuckled. "Like the poor girl would know who the devil Cornelius Dreven is."

"What is America? Who the devil is Abraham Lincoln?" he asked her.

"Land of the free, home of the brave." She smirked and shook her head. "Never mind, Duncan. I'll explain it all to you later."

He saw her take a sip of the stout and reached for his own, eying it curiously. "Land of the what? I thought we were in London, land of Indoor Plumbing." He grinned.

Cate laughed and took a longer pull at the stout. "America is a country that's across a very large ocean from here. It used to be a colony of England, where we are now, but there was a big war more than two... well, a hundred years ago and now, they're an independent country. Abraham Lincoln was the president of that country not ten years ago, before he was shot and killed."

"Shot." Duncan mulled that over. "Dreven was also killed before the Klocks took over. It seems our worlds are not so different, after all."

She raised her brow, seeing the parallels, too. "It was because Lincoln freed slaves and abolished slavery."

"They killed him because he freed slaves? He was a hero then." He took a sip of the stout, finding it somewhat akin to ale. He licked his lips and took a deeper swallow, finding it pleasant enough.

She nodded. "He was a very good man." She watched him, a smile on her own lips. "Do you like it?"

Duncan smiled, "Aye, it's rather like ale."

Cate grinned and reached for his hand. "That's because it is ale. Stout ale. Hurry and finish that. I want to go upstairs."

He needed no more encouragement, he drained the ale in one long swallow. She matched him and set the empty pint glass down on the table. The surly serving girl came back, bearing a key, which she set down in front of Duncan. She gave Cate a very slow once-over and then said, "That room's for the night, not an hour."

Duncan smirked, thinking he knew what the girl was probably assuming. "Aye, Cate, there's no hurry. We've got all night." He grinned at her.

Cate's eyes narrowed dangerously and she said in a tight voice. "My husband and I thank you for your service." She flicked a glance over at him, mentally willing him to go with what she just said. Duncan had to stifle a chuckle. The girl shrugged and left them once more, calling out good night to a customer who was just leaving and picking up some empties on her way back to the bar.

"What do you say it's off to bed with us, my dear wife?" He emphasized the word "wife", lifting his voice so others around could hear it. Cate might never live this one down. She stood and reached for his hand, feeling eyes on her again. She knew that Duncan would give her no end of ribbing about the husband comment. And indeed, he was wearing quite the grin at the moment. Instead of taking her hand, he offered his arm, glaring at a man who had turned to give her the once over. "Keep undressing my wife with your eyes, and my fist will be the last thing you see tonight." He pushed past the man to lead her toward the stairs and up to their room. With wide eyes she glanced at the man Duncan had just addressed and then looked back up at Duncan, tucking her hand through his arm, and allowing him to lead her up the stairs.

London, 1888...

Cate ascended the close stairwell, happy to be out of the public eye and in a place where she could think for a while. She went down the hallway to their room and opened the door. Inside was a double brass bed which had obviously seen better days, a nightstand with a single beeswax candle in a battered candlestick and a sideboard with a ewer and bowl sitting on it.

Duncan followed her up the stairs a few paces behind her, watching their backs to make sure they weren’t being followed. He halted just behind her to look over her shoulder at the room they had acquired for the night.

She went to the nightstand and picked up the candlestick, handing it to him. “Light this off the sconces in the hallway. Otherwise it'll be so dark we can't see our hands in front of our faces. There's no window in here.”

“No window?” he asked, appalled at the very thought. “What kind of room has no window?” He took the candle from her and turned to fetch a light.

”A cheap one. Let's hope there are no bed bugs.” She looked down at the bed and gave it an experimental prod with her knee.

He heard her from the hallway and scowled at the very thought of bed bugs.

She found the bed surprisingly firm and sank down on it. “Oh, this is nice.”

Returning momentarily with lit candle in hand, he stepped into the room and kicked the door closed behind him.

She leaned forward and stripped off her shoes, wriggling her toes and sighing with happiness.

“This is nice?” he glanced around, candlestick in hand, looking somewhat doubtful.

“Well, the bed is.” She shrugged and shifted over a little to make room for him if he wanted to sit with her.

He made his way over to the nightstand and set the candlestick down. “It will do for the night.”

“Well, it's not the Ritz Carlton, but it could be a lot worse.”

”Whatever that is,” he replied.

”It's a very upscale hotel.” She smiled softly, remembering her one stay there.

He looked a bit glum, feeling a tad claustrophobic without a window and four closed walls around him. His mood had shifted again. “When this is through, you can take me there,” he told her and he meant it.

She reached for his hand, drawing him closer. “I'm sorry this isn't turning out quite the way we wanted.”

“It's not your fault,” he said softly, pulling gently away from her and shrugging the pack from his shoulder to drop it on the bed. “We'll wait for morning and then try to locate the portal.”

She sighed softly and nodded. “And go back to Dreven? Maybe try again?”

He turned, raking his fingers back through his hair, pacing almost nervously. “Either one, I suppose.”

She watched him, eyes tracking him as he paced back and forth. “Are you all right?”

He halted his pacing and turned to face her, taking a lean against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest. “I’m fine,” he replied.

She sat facing him, a dubious brow cocked. “Liar.”

He nodded his head at her, ignoring her remark. “You should get some rest.”

She mimicked his pose, crossing her arms over her chest. “So should you.”

”I will. On the floor.”

She rolled her eyes heavenwards, reached behind her, grabbed a feather pillow, and threw it at him.

He couldn’t help but smirk at her as he caught the pillow in one arm and tucked it against his chest.

She looked down and bit her lip. “The bed's big enough for both of us, Duncan. It seems silly for you to be on the floor.”

"It's not silly, Cate. You...” He sighed. He didn’t know how to explain to her that being that close to her was dangerous. It was tempting fate or worse. “Anyway, I’m not tired.”

She looked up at him, confusion on her face. “I'm what? And you're exhausted, Mallory.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed to the bed, depositing the pillow back at its head. “Mallory, is it now?” he asked with an arched brow, lingering a moment his fingers brushing against the pillow like a lover’s caress.

”You're sleeping on the bloody floor tonight. It seems I should be calling your Mr. Mallory.” She was trying really hard not to pout, but was clearly not succeeding.

He sighed and spread his arms in exasperation. “What would you have me do, Miss Elphinston?”

She looked down at the bed next to her and then back up at him, her voice soft. “What are you afraid of?”

”I'm not afraid of anything,” he huffed and turned to fluff the pillow a bit too vigorously.

She stood up and moved over to the ewer and poured some of the water into the bowl. She splashed some onto her face and scrubbed at it angrily. Then she reached behind her head and started undoing her braid and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out. “Fine. Sleep on the bloody floor tonight, Duncan.”

He peeked up at her from across the room, watching her free the mane of hair for a long moment, wondering what it would be like to let his fingers roam free in those chestnut locks, to feel its softness against his hand.

She turned and caught him looking at her. She smiled softly, painfully aware of the flush of colour and heat that had crept across her cheeks.

He blinked out of his thoughts as she caught him looking at her and reached for his pack.
”What would you have me do, Cate? Lay next to you all night and pretend you're not there? Do I have to explain it to you?”

She made a frustrated sound and crossed her arms over her chest again, forming her lips into a thin, straight line. “Explain what? Why you're afraid to look at me? Why you're afraid to occupy the same room as me?”

”I'm not afraid.”

She didn't answer, just raised a brow.

He thought about telling her the truth and decided against it. “Besides, someone has to keep watch and that's my particular specialty.” He snagged the pack and slung it back over his shoulder.

She turned and dragged the sideboard over in front of the door and then turned back to him. “Look. Watch is kept. Ta-da!”

He looked mortified. Under any other circumstances, he might have laughed, but this was no laughing matter. “You better hope there’s no fire.”

She frowned and then shoved the damned thing back into its original spot. Then she crossed the room and flung herself down on the bed, laying on her side with her back to the room.

He couldn't help but smirk at her a little as he strode over to the door and made sure it was locked.

She closed her eyes with a hearty sigh and then curled up in a loose fetal position.

An odd thought crossed his mind. “Would you rather we make lots of noise so they think we're really married?” He smirked, teasing her now.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Supposing I'm not…” She blushed furiously and turned away from him again. “No, I'd rather not do that.”

”Then why do you think I'm sleeping on the floor?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She squeezed her eyes closed again but didn't say anything, not willing to admit to him, or more importantly, to herself that she wanted his arms around her all night, his breath soft on her neck.

He dropped his pack on the floor and made his way over to her, pulling the blankets up over her gently, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face and leaning down to press a soft kiss against her cheek. “Try and get some sleep.”

Her voice was soft. “You, too.”

He nodded. “I will. He smiled at her reassuringly. He couldn't or wouldn't admit that she was a distraction, that he wanted to lay beside her, to hold her in his arms all night, but that he didn't trust himself or his heart. He lingered a moment longer, tucking the blanket around her. “Goodnight, Cate.”

She shifted, rolling over to her other side so that she was facing the room now. In the gloom of the single candle, she could barely see him. Her voice was still soft, barely above a whisper. “Good night, Duncan.”

He left her side and moved away, across the room, close enough to watch her in the candlelight, but far away enough that he couldn't touch her. He leaned a hand against the wall to steady himself as he pulled his boots off and set them aside.

She watched him, her eyes riveted on his face - or what she could make out of it. “How'd you meet your wife?” Her voice was soft still, but held no trace of sleepiness.

He cast a glance over at her, a lifted brow she might not be able to make out in the dim light, surprised at her question. “I didn't really. I mean… She was my best friend's sister.”

She could barely see him, but sensed his surprise and regretted the question almost immediately.

He paused, closing his eyes a moment to think on it. “She was a dancer. She had long dark hair. She came to my tent one night and...” He sighed and opened his eyes. “We were wed not long after that and I was made an honorary member of the tribe.” He paused. “She was beautiful.”

She sighed, not wanting to see the parallels between his late wife and herself, but she couldn't help being clubbed in the face with them. “Tribe? She was from Thermador?”

“Aye.”

“I see.”

“Why?” He asked as he loosened the collar of his tunic and sank down to sit upon the floor, his back against the wall, casting a wary glance around for vermin.

I'm ... just curious, I guess.” She watched as he sank to the floor and sighed softly.

”It was a long time ago, Cate. Sometimes it seems like another lifetime.”

”Do you miss her?”

He leaned his back against the wall and bent his knees, arms crossed against his chest, eyes closed. “Sometimes. Late at night when everything is quiet.”

”Is that why you won't...” She trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought.

”Won't what? Lay beside you?”

“Yes.”

“Nae. That's not why.”

”Then why? Don't you trust me not to ravage your sleeping body in the middle of the night?”

He chuckled a little to himself. “I doubt I'd mind that. But you might.”

She snorted. “Please, I went nearly twenty-three years without ...” She stopped and was grateful for the dim lighting in the room. It covered up her blush.

”Nearly.” He repeated quietly. “You want to know why, Cate?”

She was silent, biting her lower lip and cursing herself for saying anything. “Yes.”

”Because I'm not Westin, that's why.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, you're not Westin?”

”Because I don't trust myself. You don't understand, do you?”

”Duncan,” she started. “You're not making sense. What does Wes have to do with not trusting yourself.”

He sighed. “Because, Cate, I...” he trailed off.

She waited, her breath held, her body tense.

”You don't have any idea what effect you have on me, do you?”

“How could I? You keep me at arm's length,” she answered.

”Do you think it's easy always trying to keep my distance?”

”Apparently it is.” She was getting annoyed, more at herself than at him.

”Do you want me to fall in love with you? Is that what you want? Because, Gods, Cate, that's what will happen if I let myself get close to you.”

She blew out a harsh breath, hating that she was nearly crying. “And what's so wrong with me that falling in love with me is so horrible?”

”There's nothing wrong with you. It's not you, it's me.” He opened his eyes to look at her across the dim space.

She turned over onto her back and angrily pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

The pain in his heart was almost more than he could bear, torn between wanting her and the fear of losing her. Didn't he deserve a chance at happiness, like everyone else? His voice was barely more than a whisper. “What do you want, Catie? Tell me what you want.”

The tears were flowing freely now and she turned away from him again, her back facing the room, curling up tightly, quietly crying.

He frowned, hearing her quietly crying. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her any pain. Here they were in this strange place, alone, and it was his responsibility to keep her safe. “Don't cry,” he told her softly.

She laughed, a sound that was harsh and bitter. “Too bloody late, isn't it?”

He breathed a sigh as he moved to his feet and padded to her side. He sat down beside her and opened his arms to her. “Come here.”

She hesitated a moment, but then she sat up and went into his arms, her face pressed into his chest.

He folded his arms around her to hold her close against him.

The tears subsided and she sighed softly against him, her voice slightly muffled. “All I want is for someone ... you ... to love me.”

His heart constricted at her words. “Why me?”

She leaned back and looked up at him, wishing that she could see his face more clearly. She reached up and ran the pad of her thumb lightly over his lips and then cupped his cheek. “Because... I ... want you to.”

He looked down at her, conflict apparent in his eyes, on his face, as if he was trying to decide something, her touch stirred something in him he hadn't felt in a long time. “I'm... not lucky at love, Cate. I lost my wife. I don't want to lose you, too. I don't think I could bear it.”

”You won't lose me.”

”You can't promise me that.” He wanted so hard to believe her, to have another chance at happiness, he was afraid. Just a few days ago, he had almost believed it, until they'd come here.

She shifted, drawing away from him, getting up on her knees in front of him. She reached for him, placing her hands on his shoulders, getting in his line of vision. “I can only promise you one thing, Duncan.”

He met her gaze, searching her eyes. He could get lost in those eyes. “Don't you think I want you to love me?” he asked, his voice breaking, despite trying to maintain control.

She leaned forward, her face inches away from his, her voice low and soft. “I can only promise you that I will do anything and everything I can to make you happy.”

”I don't want you to make me happy. I just want you to be you.” He reached up and touched her hair, letting his fingers slide gently through the soft brown locks.

She smiled softly and closed her eyes.

”What do you want, Cate?” he asked her again, fingers tracing the line of her cheek, her jaw.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “You, Duncan. I want you.” And somehow, she managed to keep the blush away.

He hesitated for just a brief moment, as if to let that sink in, and then he leaned close, ever so gently brushing his lips against hers, tenderly, longingly. Her hands came up off his shoulders and cupped his face gently, her lips moving to meet his, returning his kiss.
His eyes drifted closed as he savored the sweet soft feel of her lips against his, his hands sliding around her waist to pull her close. She slid into his lap, her hands leaving his face to allow her arms to wrap around his shoulders, and he scooped her up and laid her back against the bed, coming to rest beside her, his hands pushing her hair back from her face, his lips never leaving hers. She sighed against his mouth, one hand resting on his upper arm, the other twining in his hair, kissing him hungrily now. Encouraged by her response, he deepened his kiss, desire rising in him like a flame.

She broke away and looked up at him, her dark eyes even darker now with desire. Her voice was soft, husky. “What is it that you want, Duncan?”

He took a deep breath, his heart thundering in his chest. “A second chance,” he replied.

She smiled softly. “Those don't come along too often. Better take it if you're offered it.”

He took another breath and traced her cheek with a fingertip. “Are you offering?”

”Maybe the Fates have conspired to offer you a second chance...through me.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his eyes locked on hers.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss against his lips and then whispered. “Then take it.”

”Don't tempt me,” he said as she broke from his lips. “One day at a time, isn't that what you told me?”

She smirked. “I didn't mean that.”

“Then what did you mean?

“Take the second chance, Duncan. Love me. Let me love you. Let yourself be happy. Stop punishing yourself for things you think you've done.”

He frowned down at her, her words hitting too close to his heart. “Is that what I'm doing?”

She nodded and ran her fingers softly through his hair. “You're not cursed, Duncan. You're unlucky. Bad things happen. It's nothing you can stop...nothing you can do differently.”

”That's where you're wrong. I'll do everything in my power to stop it.” He sighed and dropped back against the back, tucking one arm behind his head to look up at the ceiling.

She sighed and let her hand drop to the pillow above her head, turning her head and studying his profile.

”Have you ever wished you could go back in time and change your whole life?”

She snorted. “All the bloody time.” He turned his head to regard her in the dim light. “You're not the only one who has secrets, Duncan.”

”I don't have any secrets,” he protested. “What kind of secrets?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “You're not the only one who's lost someone.”

He watched her from the pillow, one arm tucked behind his head. “Who have you lost?”

She shook her head. “It doesn't matter now. It was in a different time, a different world.”

“It matters, Cate. Everything matters.” He paused, a thought occurring to him suddenly. “Did you love him?”

She looked back at him and studied his face for a moment and then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I saw him ... He was killed in front of me.”

He frowned back at her, unable to hide his horror or his concern. “I'm sorry. What happened?”

She smiled softly and sighed, turning her head to look back at the ceiling. “He ... His father was a member of a group of very powerful, very bad men and another group killed Ivan to hurt his father.”

He watched her face, furrowing his brows at her as he let this sink in. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. It seemed the joke was on him, yet again. “What kind of bad men? What do you mean, another group?”

She closed her eyes, summoning up the memory, not really listening to him. “We'd gone out to dinner that night and he walked me back to my flat. He kissed me goodnight and then left. I stood at my window and watched him walking towards the Underground. These men jumped him and shot him three times in the chest. I ran to him. He died in my arms.”

Shot. There was that word again. The only shooting he understood was with that of a bow.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him, but he had turned back to look at the ceiling, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, his expression one of mingled anger and concern and perhaps something more. Fear maybe. She studied his face carefully, frowning. She reached out for him and touched his arm. “What is it?”

It took everything he had to simply mutter. “I'm sorry.”

She turned over, rising up on her elbows above him to look down into his eyes. “Duncan?”

“Is that why you prefer my world?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

She nodded. “Yes. The ones who killed Ivan are still looking for me.”

”Then why did you want to take me there?” The muscles in his jaw were visibly bunched.

”It's been years since I left, Duncan. Time doesn't run the same way here as it does in Dreven. It's safe.”

“You're never safe from people like that, Cate. Trust me, I know.”

She leaned down and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder, her arm stretching across his chest. “Perhaps.”

He was starting to feel oddly restless again, whatever peace he had managed to allow himself to enjoy was shattered, the hope he had so foolishly grasped onto slipping through his fingers before he could even grasp hold of it. Dreams smashed, yet again. He was keenly aware of her touch, of her closeness, and it only brought him more pain. “Not perhaps,” he muttered.

She closed her eyes and listened to his heart beating. She could feel the tension in his body and regretted telling him about Ivan.

”When were you going to tell me this?” he asked, worry and confusion mingled with anger.

She raised herself up above him again, looking down at him. “I wasn’t, actually. It doesn't matter. I'm not in danger anymore. They can't find me.”

”How do you know that? Good gods, Cate. You're in danger just being with me, don't you know that? I've tried to tell you. And now you tell me this.” He pushed her gently aside and sat up to draw a deep breath. He felt almost on the verge of panic. “Doesn’t it ever end?” he asked no one in particular. “Just one moment of peace. Is that so much to ask? Just a little slice of happiness?”

She, too, sat up and reached for him, not understanding.

He was out of bed in an instant, pacing again like a caged tiger, and then his fist met with the wall, plaster crumbling to the floor.

”Duncan! Stop it. Calm down. Talk to me.”

He leaned a hand against the wall, breathing hard, trying to calm himself. Why this? Why now? Somehow he knew, despite her promises, it was all falling apart, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

She stood and went to his side, her hand rubbing his back. “Duncan? Please. What's wrong?”

He stiffened at her touch, muscles tense. His fist was aching, but he didn't care.

She ducked under his arm, placing her body between the wall and him, and looked up into his eyes, raised herself up on tip-toes to kiss him softly.

”Don't,” he warned quietly, taking a slow shuddering breath.

”Don't kiss you? Don't be close to you? Don't love you?” She kissed him again, this time more firmly.

As must as he tried to resist, he couldn't help himself and returned her kiss, his lips trembling against hers. He broke from her kiss to whisper her name, a sigh against his lips. “Cate…”

“Duncan.”

When he looked back at her, there were tears glistening in his eyes. “'t there some place we can go where no one knows us, where no one can find us? Where we can have a little happiness for a while?”

She nodded and reached up to gently brush his tears away with her fingertips. “There are lots of places we can go, Duncan. But whatever problems we have will follow us. Just because no one knows us in a new place doesn't mean we won't be the same people we are now.”

He dashed any remaining tears from his face, hoping she hadn’t seen them. “You don't understand. Those people... It's not us. It's them.”

She smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him again, but he took hold of her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. Somehow he had to make her understand. “They won’t ever let me be happy, Cate.

She was unresisting in his arms, frowning softly. “Why?”

”Because they feel I owe them.”

”Owe them what? Owe them for what?”

”My allegiance,” he replied with a sigh. “It’s a long story.”

She reached up and covered his hand with hers. “Then come to bed and tell me about it”

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew he had to. He owed her that much. She had to understand once and for all what she was getting herself into if she dared love him. “My father was like Ivan's father.”

She froze and blinked, her heart feeling as though it was squeezed in a vice. She dropped her hand and moved away from him, going to stand near the door.

“They're not going to kill me,” he told her and chuckled to himself, a laugh full of bitter irony. “I’m of no use to them dead. But they wouldn't think twice about hurting someone like you. Do you see now why I...”

She cursed in a very unlady-like manner under her breath and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly.

He frowned over at her. “Get some rest,” he told her sadly. “I'll take you back to Dreven tomorrow.”

She nodded and crossed the room, laying down, facing him this time. She drew the covers up over herself and curled into a tight ball, not closing her eyes but instead studying him carefully.

He slid down onto the floor and huddled against the wall, his head coming to rest against his hands. He felt like his whole world was slowly crashing down around him. How could he have dared to hope? Somehow he knew she could never love him now, and it was probably for the better.

She sighed softly. “Good night, Duncan.”

His voice was quiet in reply and edged with worry. “Good night.” He grabbed his pack and using it for a makeshift pillow, he lay down on the floor, his back toward her. He could still smell her on him, and it was sheer torment to know she lay just a few feet away but he didn't dare touch her.

She shifted slightly, rolling onto her back to face the ceiling. She whispered, “I think it's probably a good idea that we not...see too much of each other when we're back. In Dreven, I mean.”

He squeezed his eyes, his heart constricting at her words. He’d known all along this was coming; he’d been a fool to hope. It was just like all those years ago when Mara had turned down his proposal of marriage. There was no point in arguing. It was probably better this way – safer, at least for her. He could only manage a one word reply: “Aye.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, the taste of him still on her lips, the feel of his body against hers still deep in her bones. She turned onto her other side, her back to him now and curled up tightly again, eyes falling shut as she tried to sleep.

He moved suddenly to his feet, tossing the pack over one shoulder. “I need some air,” he told her -- air and just a swallow of serky to calm his jangled nerves. Then he’d come back, he promised himself. The least he could do was make sure she got back to Dreven safely.

“Be careful,” she called after him, but he made no reply.

He quietly left the room, making sure the door was locked behind him, and down the stairs he went, not really caring what he might meet in the streets of London in the darkness of the night.

Duncan stepped out of the inn and into the night, the mist as thick as pea soup. He knew it would be easy to get lost in it and so he told himself he wouldn't go far. He just needed a breath of air and a swallow or two of serky to steady his nerves. He made his way down the cobblestone street and halted a few doors away from the inn, fishing in his pack for the small bottle he'd stashed there. He pulled the stopper and tilted the bottle back for a long swallow, the amber liquid warming his insides and calming his jangled nerves.

Cate lay awake, restless, their conversation running through her head over and over. He was like Ivan. His father was like Ivan's father. She sighed and cursed vehemently. Why, of all the men in Dreven, did she have to have feelings for another bad boy? Why couldn't she just be happy with a nice man? She muttered darkly, "Because, Catherine, nice is boring."

He drew a deep shuddering breath; once again sorry he had not brought his cloak. He returned the bottle to its resting place and shouldered the pack, his boots clicking lightly against the cobblestone street as he made his way slowly away from the inn. His thoughts turned to Cate -- when weren't they on Cate? He bit the inside of his mouth, his breath creating its own mist to mingle with the fog.

She had no idea what time it was, or even if it was nearing dawn. She didn't even know how long he'd been gone. She sat up in bed and fumbled in the darkness for her shoes, drawing them on and going to the door. "All right, Mallory. If you're going to be pig-headed about this, you'll learn I can be just as stubborn as you can." She opened the door and went out into the hallway. She quickly descended the stairs and glanced over the nearly empty bar room. Those present were too far into their cups to have noticed Duncan leaving, so she quickly crossed the room and headed out into the streets.

Duncan tried to ignore the chill in the air, accustomed as he was to warmer climes. He wasn't paying too much attention to where he was going and even if he was, he didn't know his way around and had no idea where he was headed.

She paused just outside the front door and glanced right and then left. She thought she saw him off in the distance, though the fog was too thick to tell. "Duncan?" She called out hesitantly.

It seemed to him as he walked that the neighborhood was growing poorer, the streets becoming rutted and made of dirt, the only sound that of dogs barking somewhere in the distance. He glanced up at the sky, but could hardly see anything past his nose in the dense fog.

She glanced around once more and set off after the figure she'd seen in the distance, calling out his name again. "Duncan!"

He halted for a moment, looking back the way he'd come. He didn't want to get disoriented or lost in the midst of a city he was unfamiliar with and most importantly, he didn't want to get separated from Cate. He sighed, knowing he should turn back around, but he wasn't sure he could face her just yet, not after what had just happened between them. He thought he heard someone call his name, but shook his head, dismissing it as a figment of his imagination. As far as he knew he'd left Cate safely asleep in bed and no one else here knew him by name. He paused a moment, shaking the feeling off and moving on, further away from the safety of the inn and Cate's arms.

The fog was making it difficult not only to see but to hear as well, the dense mist hushing things, dampening sounds, changing their direction, causing them to echo from odd angles. Catie knew she shouldn't be out here and was beginning to regret leaving the relative safety of the pub. She stopped for a moment, looking behind her, realizing that she was lost. A cold thrill of fear went through her and she began panicking.

He saw her standing in the road, alone and obviously lost. Another whore, no doubt. Scourge of the Earth. Mocking him, taunting him with their loose morals. He crept along behind her as she moved through the foggy streets.

Duncan's steps were slow, her words still echoing in his brain, the burden of his worries lying heavily upon his heart. Why had he ever let her get close? He paused in his steps and leaned back against a building, one foot coming to rest against the brick and mortar, he pulled the bottle of serky out of his pack once again and took another swallow, this one not as deep as the last. He knew he should turn back. It was his responsibility to keep her safe and he couldn't do that from here.

She looked down at her feet and noticed the cobblestones turning to rutted dirt tracks; the buildings looking more and more run down. Where in hell was she? "Duncan!" Her voice cracked, fear almost overwhelming her now.

His ears perked. There was that voice again. Cate? No it couldn't be. He looked around. Where was it coming from -- behind him, in front of him? He couldn't tell in the mist, the sound echoing off the buildings.

The whore kept calling out for Duncan. He ducked into an alleyway and called out. "Over here!" He waited, readying his tools, anxious to complete his night's mission.

Duncan pushed off from his lean and looked back the way he’d come. "Cate?"

Cate frowned, hearing voices, one calling her name, the other saying "Over here". Could they be the same voice? "Duncan? Is that you?" She crept closer to the direction she'd heard her name.

He stashed the bottle back into his pack and turned back toward the inn, even in a strange city, his sense of direction good enough to know which way to turn to find his way back. He hadn't realized just how far he'd come. He muttered a curse, damning the fog and the bone-chilling cold.

Oh, no no no! Wrong way, guttersnipe! "Yes, love. I'm over here!"

She froze and slowly turned around. That was not Duncan's voice. She was rooted in place, breathing shallowly, trembling. Fear had made her stomach turn sour. "Who... who's there?"

He rubbed his hands to warm them, cursing himself for not listening to his own instincts and bringing a cloak. He hastened his steps, some sixth sense telling him something was wrong, but he didn't know what. "Cate?" he called.

He moved towards the mouth of the alley and saw that her back was towards him. He crept up behind her and threw one arm around her stomach and the other hand, armed with a surgeon's scalpel, went to her throat. "Scream, pretty bird. No one will hear you tonight."

Cate did just that - let out a blood-curdling scream and stomped with all of her strength down on her attacker's instep, while simultaneously driving her elbow into his gut.

He heard the scream and his blood froze in his veins, terror griping his heart, and he broke into a run, back down the street the way he'd come, almost in a panic.

He managed to keep his arm around her even as the breath was knocked out of him. The scalpel sliced the side of her face, a thin line of blood welling along the creamy whiteness of her skin. "Oh, that's not any way to treat me, whore. I'll be doing you a favour - helping save you from yourself." He dragged her back into the alleyway, the blade against the underside of her chin, pressing in just enough to cause a drop of blood to well up on her throat.

Duncan unconsciously reached for his sword, horrified to find it wasn't there, remembering with a curse that she'd made him leave it behind. Pulling instead the dagger from his belt, his footsteps echoed through the empty streets, his breath fogging in the cool mist. "Cate!" he called, his stomach clenched in cold fear. He was looking this way and that as he ran, trying to determine where the sounds were coming from.

Her struggles stopped as she felt the knife at her throat, felt that blade slice into her skin. "Duncan! Help!" He was pulling her into the alleyway and it dawned on her who he was...who she would become. One of the Ripper's victims was called Catherine. She started to cry, great heaving sobs racking her body. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she heard Duncan calling her name.

"Now, pet. Don't cry. It'll all be over soon and there will be less filth in the world." He shoved her towards a brick wall and flattened her against it with his body, the blade still at her neck. He inhaled deeply, smelling her. He ducked his head and kissed her.

His kisses, an obscene parody of the kisses Duncan had given her not so long ago, freed something in her mind and she bit him, drawing blood. He smacked her, rocking her head back against the bricks behind her, causing everything to go black for a moment. The blade at her throat dug in deeper and brought her back. "Please, please don't hurt me," she begged.

"Cate!" His voice was growing louder, closer as he neared their location. He had no idea what he was stumbling into, but his warrior instincts were on fire, somehow he knew she needed him.

He grinned at her and licked the blood from his lips. He reached for her clothing, tearing it, revealing a lush body, not something he expected to find on a common whore. "But maybe you're not a common whore. Maybe you're one of the royal's playthings?" He laughed and ground his hips against her. "Imagine that. Jack helping the monarchy keep itself clean. I'll be made a knight!"

Duncan forced himself not to panic. If he panicked, he'd do neither of them any good, but this was very different from any battle he'd ever fought.

She was still sobbing, whispering over and over, "Please don't hurt me." Fear had stripped her mind, stripped the fight from her. She stood trembling in his grasp, the blade at her throat immobilizing her.

He reached down and grabbed her breast, squeezing it obscenely. "Such a beautiful girl. It's too bad you're spoiled. You'd have made a very lovely wife if you weren't so dirty and disgusting."

Why had she screamed? Had it been her? Duncan thought she'd heard him call for help, but he couldn't be sure. Where was she and what was happening? His mind was a flurry of questions and thoughts and just when he thought he would go mad trying to find out the answers, he stumbled onto them.

He was too distracted by his work to notice that they were no longer alone. He drew the blade along her throat, not too deeply, but deeply enough that it would hurt and it would bleed her. The sight of the blood against her skin drove him wild and he fumbled at her skirts, pulling them up to her hips, his knee parting her legs.

Grabbing hold of the man's arm and flinging him away from Cate, his left fist connected with the man’s jaw knocking him backwards against the opposite wall. Duncan stepped between them and brandished the dagger, daring the man to challenge him. "Get your filthy hands off her!"

A young pup suddenly stood between him and the whore...a young armed pup.

"Duncan!" She sobbed and collapsed to the dirty floor of the alleyway, trembling still and trying to hold closed her clothes, trying to cover her nakedness.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you," Duncan warned through clenched teeth, eyes flashing with rage in the night. The way he held the dagger, it was clear he meant business and it was clear he knew how to use it.

He laughed and drew a revolver from the pocket of his overcoat. He cocked it and pointed it at the young pup. "I suggest you go away, puppy, and pretend that you didn't see us this night."

Duncan's eyes flicked to the revolver, not knowing what it was, but knowing by instinct that it was some kind of weapon.

"Duncan! He'll kill you!" She was struggling to stand, inching her way back up the wall.

"Only a coward preys on women," he said through clenched teeth and launched himself at the man, the dagger poised for the man's chest. Remotely, he heard Cate’s warning, but ignored her. He wasn't concerned for his own safety at this point -- he only wanted a piece of the man who had hurt her.

He fired as soon as he felt the puppy lunging towards him. The bullet struck the man high in the left shoulder, a through and through shot.

Duncan felt pain like searing fire shoot through his shoulder as he was knocked backwards by the shot, falling to the ground, his head thumping hard against the street. Everything around him seemed to be moving slowly, darkly, as if in a dream. Cate screamed and dove for Duncan, cradling his head in her lap, her hands stroking his face. "Duncan? Duncan! Look at me, Duncan."

He heard footsteps running and shouts coming closer. He grunted with frustration and fled out of the mouth of the alley, cursing his luck, fleeing unseen into the night, the fog covering his steps.

Duncan blinked to clear his vision; her face seemed to be looming in and out of focus. He licked his lips and pushed himself up from the ground, unable to suppress a pain-filled groan. He hovered there a moment between darkness and light. "Cate..." He reached for her, trying to pull the fabric of her dress up over her bare flesh, while at the same time trying not to gape.

"It's all right. Don't move." She held him closer and looked up at the people streaming into the mouth of the alley. "Please. He's been shot. Please, help him."

"I'm fine." He murmured, his head was feeling oddly light and his shoulder felt hot and sticky. He licked his lips again and looked up at Cate. "Catie..."

"You're not fine, you idiot. You've been shot. We need to get you to a doctor." She stroked his face. "Shh, love. Don't talk."

He tried once again to push himself up and cried out at the effort, dropping back into her arms and exhaling a deep shuddering breath. "Cate," he stammered. “Don’t… don’t leave me."

Two men came and helped Duncan to his feet, while a woman dropped a shawl over Cate's shoulders. "I won't leave, Duncan. I promise."

He gasped for breath, pain like a hot poker burning at his flesh. He clenched his teeth in agony, the street suddenly swimming before his eyes as they moved him to his feet. He swung his gaze toward her, his face pale and gaunt. "I love you,” he whispered. And then everything went black.

Cate had managed to finagle a semi-private room for Duncan. She sat at his bedside, ten stitches in her cheek and five in her throat. The nurses had stripped Duncan to the waist and treated his wound and now he was sleeping peacefully. She held tightly to his hand, watching him sleeping. The bullet wound had been stitched up and covered with a bandage. It would probably leave a scar, to join the other various faded scars that were scattered here and there. In addition to the scars, he bore two tattoos -- one which circled his right bicep and the other was on his upper left shoulder. His build was that of someone obviously accustomed to physical exertion, his muscles firm and toned. He had been resting quietly for some time and was finally starting to stir, murmuring something incoherent and shifting against the hospital bed.

She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his face and said softly. "Duncan? Are you awake?"

He murmured something again, words that she couldn't quite make out. His eyelids fluttered open and he blinked to clear his vision.

She smiled softly at him, the stiches in her cheek livid against her skin. "Welcome back."

He blinked again and tried to sit up. "Cate?"

She nodded and stood, rearranging the pillows behind him so he could sit up without huring himself. He drew a deep breath and pushed himself up, his shoulder throbbing in pain, but not like the fire he felt earlier. He was still somewhat disoriented and he looked around to take in his surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked.

Cate sat back down and took his hand again and said quietly. "The Royal London Hospital. Do you remember ... what happened? How are you feeling? Any pain? Are you thirsty, maybe?" He leaned slowly back against the pillows, turning his head to face her. She smiled softly and reached to smooth his hair back from his face again. The need to touch him, to reassure herself that he was all right was overwhelming.

"I'll be fine," he said and frowned upon seeing the stitches that lined her cheek and throat. "Oh, Cate," he reached out to touch her face in a gentle caress. She sat forward, closer to him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. As he slept, she'd had time to replay the attack over and over in her mind. A tear slipped down her cheek and she started trembling, the adreneline finally beginning to wear off. She took a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears, but they wouldn't stop. Pain or no pain, he reached for her to gather her into his arms. She went to him, holding herself stiff so as not to hurt him. He held her close, the ache in his shoulder nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He stroked her hair with one hand while the other just held onto her. The tears just wouldn't go away and she finally collapsed against him, sobbing as the reality of what had happened to her finally hit her. He just held her there, gently stroking her hair, trying in some way to soothe her, while a torrent of emotions flooded him. He felt mostly guilt, but it was mingled with compassion and something else, something stirring in his heart, something he hadn't felt in a long time. She stopped crying with a last, shuddering breath and withdrew from his arms. She sat back down on the chair the nurses had brought in when she refused to leave his side. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and gave him a watery smile.

Duncan reluctantly let her go, the conflicting emotions apparent on his face. "I'm so sorry, Cate," he said, his voice quiet, barely a whisper.

She took a deep breath and looked down at her skirt. The nurses had managed to find some decent clothes to replace the ones the...her attacker had ruined. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I dragged you into coming to London with me." She began worrying her lower lip between her teeth again, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Nae, I wanted to come. This is all my fault. Everything, all of it."

She looked up at him and frowned. "Don't be an ass, Mallory."

"I thought you'd be safe here. Why did you follow me? You should have stayed at the inn."

"I'm not safe anywhere, except perhaps in a lined vault somewhere surrounded by armed, beefy guards with big Rottweilers."

Duncan shook his head, not understanding her references, but too upset to ask for an explanation. "I want to keep you safe. I want..."

She was getting annoyed with him and was trying hard not to show it. "Why'd you leave? Couldn't stand being near me, eh?" She clenched her jaw and looked down at her feet again.

He looked appalled at her accusation. "Nae, of course not!"

She looked up at him, fire in her eyes. "If you want to keep me safe, Duncan, put me back on my shelf. Don't take me down to play with." She stood and started pacing.

"Play with... Is that what you think I've been doing?"

Cate stopped her pacing and fixed him with an accusatory look. "Haven't you?" Her voice changed, becoming harsher, mocking. "Don't fall in love with me, Cate. Oh, Catie, I love you! Cate, we can't be together. Catie, don't leave me."

His eyes tracked her movement. But after hearing her accusation, he sighed and fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes, suddenly weary. "Aye, you're right," he said softly. He didn't bother to argue or defend himself. He just let her think what she might. What difference would it make now whether he loved her or not? It was hopeless. He drew his right arm across his face to cover his eyes, he couldn't bear to look at her or let her see the pain he was feeling.

She was ready to go after him more, but bit back the rest of her tirade when she saw his reaction. She started pacing again, warring emotions fighting against each other. "You should get some rest. The sun's almost up; we can go back to Regent's Park when you're feeling better." She headed for the door, intending to go back to the pub in Euston.

"I wasn't playing." He muttered softly.

Cate paused by his bedside, not sure of what she'd just heard. "What?"

He lifted the arm away from his face and turned toward her, pain apparent in his gaze. "I said I wasn't playing." He was torn -- if he told her he loved her, he was putting her in danger, but the thought of losing her was tearing him apart.

She raised a dubious brow and went to her chair, sitting on the very edge of the seat. She looked at him, waiting for further explanation.

"I..." His mouth was trembling as he met her gaze, and he bit it with his teeth to keep it still.

She kept her face passive, only the throbbing vein in her neck, the pounding of her heart betraying the ... anxiousness she was feeling.

Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He suddenly felt his whole world crumbling around him. "I wasn't playing... I..." Dare he say those three little words? They were so much more than just that. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, fighting down the almost overwhelming urge to break down and let the flood gates open. He decided to take a different route. His voice was quiet and full of emotion. "I was fifteen when I fell in love for the first time. I wanted to leave home, to get away from my father. I'm not like my father, Cate. I asked her to marry me. She turned me down. So, I left anyway. A few years later, I met my wife. She... Well, you know what happened there. After that, I gave up on love. I swore I'd never fall in love again. Never feel the pain of love. Or the joy." He sighed again and closed his eyes.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, "Then why live, Duncan?"

He held up a hand, trying to gather his words without breaking down. He turned away and bit his lip, as he tried to control his emotions. "And then I met you," he told her quietly, his face turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze. "I met you and everything..." His voice broke. "Everything changed." Cate sighed and reached for his hand. "The truth is..." He felt her take his hand, but he didn't dare look at her, not yet. "I'm falling in love with you."

"I know." She had barely whispered the words.

Duncan turned to look at her then, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He blinked up at her. "You know?" He dashed the dampness from his cheek with a hand, sniffled once, and cleared his throat. "Then why..." He looked confused, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?"

Cate gave him a look and asked, "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"I told you why - because it's not safe to be with me."

She shook her head. "Those aren't reasons, Duncan. Those are excuses. You're not a coward - not by any stretch of the imagination. I told you, I'm not safe anywhere. Not if I want to live a life worth living."

"But I want to keep you safe."

"And I want to live, damn it!"

"I can't bear to lose you, Cate." There was a pleading look in his eyes, like a drowning man looking to be saved.

"My entire life, since I was old enough to walk, people have been trying to keep me safe. My parents wouldn't let me walk to my friend's house to play. My teachers wouldn't let me learn things that might expose me to dangerous ideas." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm tried of being molly-coddled. I'm tired of being smothered and treated like I'm made out of bone china. I want to live, Duncan. I want a life worth living. I want adventure. I want danger. I want ... experience! Do you realise that I was a virgin until I was nearly 23 years old? Do you realise that I've only ever kissed four boys in my entire life?"

Duncan shook his head, not sure what to say, not sure if she expected him to say anything, unsure if he even figured into what she wanted.

She sat forward again, on the edge of her seat and took his hand between hers. "Please, Duncan. Stop pushing me away. Live a life worth living with me."

He glanced from her face to the hands that held his. "All my life, I've been running away from something."

"You're not a coward, Duncan. Stop running."

He jerked his head up to look at her. "I'm not."

"I know." She smiled softly and squeezed his hand.

"How did you know that I..." He trailed off, unable to finish the question. She nodded towards the wound in his shoulder. He followed her eyes and glanced toward his own shoulder, then back. "Because of this? It's not the first time I've been wounded." He didn't think so much of it.

She nodded and leaned forward. She looked into his eyes and then kissed him, softly and gently, just brushing her lips across his. "It's also in the way you kiss me, the way you look at me, the way you want to protect me."

Duncan sighed into her kiss, his eyes drifting closed a moment, as if lost in her spell. He reached up to touch her cheek gently, his fingers sliding back and into her hair. She smiled and sat back down, his hand still captured between her own. "I knew it the night you danced with me."

"You did?" He arched a curious brow.

She nodded and gave him a lop-sided smile. "Didn't you?"

"I..." he paused in thought, remembering that night. It seemed like ages ago. Things seemed so much simpler then. "I was attracted to you, aye. I wanted to kill Westin for hurting you. I wanted to make you smile again."

"You have."

He frowned up at her. "I've brought you nothing but misery."

She snorted. "I think you're confusing yourself with someone else."

"What about you?" He was almost afraid to ask, afraid to hear her answer.

She blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. "What about me?"

"You talk about love, you promise I won't lose you, and then you tell me you don't want us to see each other anymore." His expression was one of obvious confusion.

She sighed deeply and let go of his hand, withdrawing into her chair. She looked down at the floor and said in a very quiet voice. "I was scared, Duncan. I was scared that I'd have to watch you die in my arms."

"Die? I'm not going to die. Believe me, Cate, I have every intention on living to a ripe old age. And I'm not my father." She glanced up at him and then looked pointedly towards his shoulder. "It's nothing. I've had worse. Besides, I had no choice."

She raised a brow. "You could have bled to death. It could still get infected and poison you."

He smiled at her concern. "I'll be fine."

"Maybe we can get you back to Dreven soon and you can find that ... vivomancer who fixed you up the last time," she said.

He shook his head, "Nae, but you are right about one thing."

"What's that?"

"We should get back." He lifted a hand to touch her face, careful not to hurt her as his fingers brushed her cheek. "We'll get you to a Vivomancer." She nodded and turned her face to nuzzle his hand, her eyes closing at his touch. "When I told you not to fall in love with me, you said it might be too late. What did you mean by that? Is it too late, Cate?"

She opened her eyes and searched his face for a long time before answering. "Yes, it is."

His hand remained in place, pressed softly against her cheek. "I suppose it's too soon to ask you to marry me."

A bark of laughter escaped her lips before she could rein it in.

He smiled, "I didn't know I was making a joke."

Heat and colour crept into her cheeks and she bit her lip. "You're...you're not... You're serious?"

"Aye, well, it's one way to rid yourself of that horrendous surname," he smirked at her.

She punched him gently in the ball of his shoulder joint and stuck her tongue out at him. "I could go by my mother's maiden name, I suppose, if Elphinston doesn't meet with your approval."

Duncan grinned at her reaction, hardly feeling the punch. "Mallory meets with my approval. Catherine Mallory sounds quite distinguished, don't you think?"

She shook her head, still believing that he was having a bit of fun with her. "Catie Mallory? Makes me sound a bit posh, I expect."

"And Elphinston does not?" His eyes gleamed, his good humor returning, if only temporarily.

"Elphinston is a very old, very distinguished Scottish name. We've got a castle and a title, too." Duncan rolled his eyes unimpressed. She smiled softly and leaned forward. "Were you..." She looked down and bit her lip. "Were you serious about ... marriage?" She blushed again and couldn't meet his eyes.

"I am, when you're ready. I would never joke about such a thing," he said. "But you've only kissed four boys. Perhaps you wish to kiss more,” he teased.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "No, I've no desire to kiss any more boys. I think I'll stick with men." She could barely keep the smirk off her face.

"Ah, well... How many of them will I have to chase off, do you think?"

"None," she answered.

"I am quite good with a sword, you know. I could duel for your hand, if you wish." He smiled.

She snorted. "With whom? Yourself?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

"I think you give me too much," she countered.

"You're a beautiful woman, Cate. You're kind and caring."

She looked down again. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" Her voice was soft, full of doubt.

His expression turned serious, his eyes softening on her. "Aye, I do."

She smiled softly and looked back up into his eyes. Then she leaned forward again and kissed him, gently, softly. Eager lips met hers, soft in their embrace, one hand cupping her cheek gently as he savored her kiss. She winced and pulled away from him. "Sorry. I guess it's a little sore still."

"I should get you back to Dreven. The sooner we get back, the sooner you can heal. Do you think we should try and contact Kirin?"

She nodded and stood. "I think that wouldn't be a bad idea. I have no idea how, since she's 150 years ahead of us...or maybe even in Dreven, still."

"We still have her calling card. If we can figure out where her family's business is located, then we can send her a message."

"All right. We need to scare up a shirt for you, first. Let me see what the nurses can find." She stepped out into the hallway for a moment.

He glanced at the window to gauge the time and see whether morning was approaching. "Where's my pack?" She spoke in quiet tones to a nurse and came back in, holding his pack for him. "Someone told me to bring a change of clothes," he smirked.

Cate laughed and handed it to him. "Smart arse."

"Next time I'm bringing my sword...and a bloody cloak."

She rolled her eyes. "Just get dressed, Mallory. It'll be dawn in just a few minutes."

He snagged the pack and opened it, pausing upon spying the bottle of serky, but leaving it where it was, instead withdrawing a fresh tunic. "Can you help me with this?" She nodded and went to his side. He was feeling stiff and sore and still a bit weak, but he wanted to get her back through the portal as soon as possible.

"Put your arms through and I'll pull it over your head," she said. He nodded up at her, unfolded the tunic, and slid his arms through the armholes. Wincing a little at the throbbing ache in his shoulder, he ducked his head to allow her to help him. She gently eased the tunic over his head and then kissed his face when his head popped through the neckhole. "All right?"

"I need a bath," he smiled as he drew the tunic down against his chest.

Cate nodded. "Me, too. Do you want to try standing?"

He smiled, not finding anything wrong with the way she smelled. He didn't want to say anything about it as the last time he'd made a comment, he'd been accused of not being poetic enough. "Aye." He replied and turned to slide his legs off the side of the bed. He reached for her to steady himself as he pulled himself to his feet. She held his forearm to steady him, ready to slip her shoulder under his arm in case he needed her. It took a moment for him to find his balance and for his legs to feel steady beneath him. A wave of dizziness washed over him for a moment, but it soon passed.

She looked up at him, concern in her eyes. "All right then? Are you sure you can walk to Regent's Park? It's a few miles."

"Are there no horses in this London of yours? Carriages?" He wondered suddenly if he still had his silver in his pouch or if it had been stolen.

She nodded. "It'll cost a pretty penny, though. Still have some silver on you?"

He looked back for his pack. "In there." She reached for it and handed it to him. He leaned against the bed as he rifled through the pack, breathing a sigh of relief that the silver was still there. The serky was still there; that was a good thing. "It's here. Where's my dagger?" More almost panicked rifling.

She bit her lip. "Probably still...where..." She took a shuddering breath. "In the alleyway."

He muttered a curse. "We're not going back for it. We'll just have to take our chances without it. How much for a carriage?"

"Two silvers should cover it. They look like sterling pounds...money from here, in this time."

He drew the pack slowly over his healthy shoulder and nodded. "All right."

She tucked her arm through his and smiled up at him. "If you need, I'm here," she said. He was clearly moving stiffly and slowly, his complexion a shade too pale.

"I'll be fine once we get to the carriage... and the portal."

She nodded and led him towards the door, walking slowly, letting him direct the pace. He followed at her side, his pace slower than usual, pushing himself, determined not to let her spend another night here.