At the Security office:

Donnie *knocks on Godley’s door and enters.  Places a trinket on Godley’s desk.*  I’m not sure if it’s connected to Salome’s murder, but I found it when I was looking for the De Marco twins.  It belongs to Dr. Rainey … he had some sort of lab set up in one of the warehouses.  I should have thought of it sooner, but I forgot that I even had it.  *Shrugs*  Maybe forensics can find something on it to link it to Salome.

Godley *picks up the trinket with the help of a handkerchief and examines it briefly*  Dr. Rainey, you said?  I know that guy.  *he recalls the experiments of Portsmith and Rainey*  I just hoped he left the town for good.  I'll get it examined as soon as possible. *he wraps it up in a small plastic bag*  I wouldn't wonder if he were connected with it in some ways.  We.. *he corrects in time, remembering Abberline went home all of a sudden*  I am going to take a look at the warehouses again.  A lab ... *he shakes his head*

Donnie *nods*  Good … *leaves the office again and returns to his own.*

At From Hell Court:

Abberline *wakes up, alone in a shabby room, the only furniture being the bed he's lying in.  The woman has disappeared, for which he is very thankful.  Slowly, he rises to a sitting position, fumbling for his clothes spread on the dusty floor, winces from the headache predicting a bad hangover.  His fingers touch upon something smooth and round under the bed, his hopes rise when he grabs the bottle and raises it.  There are still some drops left of whatever it contained.  He opens the bottle and drinks the beverage.  Homebrewed, horrible stuff that burns in his throat, but still he regret that there isn't more.  After half an hour he's fully dressed, having found everything else except the crumpled bills he had in his pocket.  Even the cigarette case is intact.  He shrugs, leaves the dark room and appears back on the alley.  The sun stings in his eyes when he walks out of the alley.  He can't have slept for long.  He tries to comb his hair with his fingers and brush most of the dust and dirt from his jacket, but it doesn't improve much his neither his appearance nor his spirits.  Chiana is waiting for him, and he is relieved that neither she nor Raven seems to be able to follow him so closely as they did before ... *

*A young girl stands and watches him.  Approaching him she stops before him.*  Have you no faith at all.  Mother will know.  *Shakes her head sadly*  I cannot see what's to happen.  Everything keeps shifting.  *Turns away and vanishes*

Abberline *shouts after her*  Chiana!  Where is my Hope and where is my Faith?  *a woman looks curiously at him, and he stares her down*  What the f*** are you looking at?  *muttering to himself, he starts to walk home*  They're gone, I have nothing left except you.  And you have just me.  Your mother has abandoned us.  What would she know .... *When he finally reaches home, Chiana is asleep in her crib and Candy is watching over her.  He leans down to look at his baby daughter, brushes her silken cheek*  Is everything okay with her?

Candy:  She was just a bit restless.  She was longing for you, I guess.

Abberline *sighs*  I have to go to work.  *he glances once more at Chiana*  Though I don't know why.  I don't think I am very much needed there.  Candy, will you tell Marta that I don't need any supper.  I have a headache, I am going to bed.

Candy *looks at him sympathetically*  You can always eat later, she can warm it up for you.

Abberline:  No thanks.

Candy *looks after him thoughtfully.  The latest rumours tell that Kat has been seen feasting in Tortuga, but it can't be true.  But why won't she come home?*

On The 12th Commandment:

Corso *to Manouche, laughs*  No, she's been sulking since my marriage, but she's not kicked me out yet.  Have you seen her new office?  I suppose you haven't heard about her latest invention.  She gave over the real work to Donnie Brasco, named him a Chief Inspector and moved upstairs. Probably to annoy Abberline, now that he was cleared of al accusations against him.  Where did you get that balcony from?  She has indeed a balcony, with her flags flying on both sides ... A terrific place for speeches and parades, especially when she gets the Equestrian statue finally on the square.  She has been planning to pull down the quarter next to the Security Square to create better room for the statue and her future audience.  *he adds more speed and the ship bounces forward over a wave, lurches and then straightens itself, the engines roaring.*  Now this is something compared to your old boats, isn't it?

Manouche *shakes her head*  Now when would I ‘ave seen ‘er office, mate?  Use yer head.  She’d just as soon ‘ang me as pass me on th’ street.  *grins*  Though she an' I did ‘ave a fine sparrin’ match once, at … at Chez Roux.  Willy tried t’ talk us out of it, but I think we needed it.  I think it did us both good.  I don’t reckon she’d admit that, even if she agreed with me.  *pauses, thinks of the visions that are assaulting her now, at the oddest times and of the oddest things*  Th’ balcony … I dunno, I jus’ saw it.  I see things sometimes, that’s all.  I’m glad t’ hear that th’ Inspector has been cleared, I thought all along that were rubbish.  *sniffs indignantly*  Them photographs, absurd.  An’ then Portsmith made Donnie ‘er chief, ay?  Good.  He’ll do a fine job, no doubt.  *she hangs on as the ship hops the waves; looks at Corso, smirks*  I reckon this tank ain’t bad fer a motor ship.  But I’ll always prefer me Libertine Trailer.  *she looks out at the sea and instantly regrets mentioning her ship, as it puts a quick flash of a picture in her head – the deck, Malachi and Blake, Malachi at the wheel.  She squeezes her eyes shut, wills the vision away; tries to think of something else*  D-do ye ‘ave particular people an’ places ye fancy in Tortuga, Corso?  Or are ye jus’ plannin’ on experiencin’ its savory stew o’ dodgy humanity all at once, like one big, teemin’ garlic bulb?

Corso:  Well, you were always weird, must be in the blood.  I wonder what my position will now be at the Office, if any.  I don't believe that Donnie fancies me at all.  Not that it's any problem of mine for the moment.  But to talk about problems, you seem to have one.  For the first, you were never keen on my company, and for the second, where is your ship, Captain?  I didn't see any ship, unless you are referring to that little boat.  *he glances at her sideways*  And I got to say that I have always fancied you, you're a darn fine woman with a temper, but you seem to my eyes somewhat listless.  *he shrugs*  There's nothing in the world that Tortuga can't cure.  What you said last sounds fine to me.  That's the way I want it.

Manouche *pushing her windblown hair out of her face, looks sharply at Corso; then she smiles, and has to laugh*  By th’ powers, Dean Corso, ye ‘ave no artfulness to ye at all!  How ye convinced a woman to marry ye is beyond me.  But per’aps yer bluntness is part o’ yer charm.  *still chuckling heartily, she finds cigarettes, lights two, hands him one*  I can’t argue with ye that I’m weird … an’ though I don’t think o’ meself as one with a temper, ye seem to often bring it out in me, so I reckon it only makes sense that bein' yer perception o’ me.  *pauses*  Some o’ me existin’ weirdness can be explained.  I … I ain’t well, savvy?  I s’pose I should’ve warned ye that I wouldn’t be much in th’ way o’ company on this trip fer that very reason.  As fer me ship … Mr. Blake’s usin’ it, that’s all.  Jus’ part of our … hiatus, innit?  *gazes out in the direction of Tortuga*  I don’t imagine there’s a cure waitin’ fer me in Tortuga, but it can’t hurt.  *looks at him again, smiles*  So what’s Mrs. Corso doin’ to occupy ‘erself durin’ this lil’ separation?  Is she passin’ th’ time alone, or is she … entertainin’ at home?

Corso *accepts the cigarette and turns on more speed, grins as Manouche's hair flies in her face again*  Just cause I like the gesture when you sweep your hair away your face.  As for my wife, it was she who married me, actually.  I don't have any recollection whatsoever of the event, and I was mad at her, but a good bridal night convinced me that there are good sides in being married.  How would I know what she's doing when I am away *looks at her lecherously* and she does not know what I am doing when I am away, alone with a most tempting Gypsy wench ... So, what has dear William done, couldn't he sail with a pirate, eh?  *he laughs*  Shouldn't we soon see the bloody island?

Manouche *smarting anew at the thought of Blake contacting his former fiancée, telling her he wants to see her – actually going to the trouble to write to her, why?? – she listens to Corso, and for all that his words are so much foolishness, she feels a little comfort from the fact that someone finds her attractive, though it’s nothing she wishes to pursue.  She arches a brow at him*  A ‘temptin’ Gypsy wench’ … blimey, what kind o’ talk is that?  *shakes her head, but smiles as she removes a long scarf from around her neck, brings her arms up and ties it around her head to keep her hair back; grins at him*  Sorry t’ remove th’ gesture ye so enjoy, mate … jus’ tryin’ to keep this mess from becomin’ more of a tangle than it is in this bloody wind.  *she pauses, tries to find words to casually explain Blake’s actions*  As a matter o’ fact, Mr. Blake is sailin’ with a pirate … he’s with Malachi.  He’s become more interested in ships since … *swallows* … since he worked on buildin’ th’ restored Libertine Trailer fer me.  *she pauses, turns her face away from him as she tries to collect herself*  I reckon he wanted t’ give it a whirl with one o’ th’ lads, as it were.  It’s jus’ … *her voice trails off, she looks out at the horizon, points, cries out*  Ahh, there it is, Tortuga, comin’ up fast.  *she feels some sense of relief as she anticipates entering the first tavern she sees, buying a bottle of something and crawling into it, savoring a little oblivion*

Corso *peers intently ahead, not really listening to her*  Tortuga!  Freedom!  There it is!  *he slows down the boat and lets it glide in style between all the pirate ships, where it looks much out of place*  Wonder why he didn't want to take you with him ... Seems that the honeymoon is over, Manouche.  *he stops the engine and climbs up on the deck with a broad grin*  You know, I have never been here.  It is so refreshing to find a place where you won't be immediately scowled upon or slapped.  *he offers his arm to her*  May I escort you to the nearest tavern?

Manouche *glowering as she watches Tortuga draw nearer, frowns at Corso’s words; she leaves the ship with him after they dock, looks at his proffered arm*  Aye, escort away.  However, I may as well warn ye, mate, I’m not feelin’ very sociable, savvy?  Once we get where we’re goin’, yer free t’ chat up whoever catches yer eye … an’ ye’ll leave me to me business.  Agree to that, or I’ll not go another step with ye.  Do we ‘ave an accord?  *her voice is soft but firm as she fixes a stern eye on him*

Corso *rolls eyes*  Okay, boss, as you wish.

Manouche *nods, satisfied, takes his arm and they wind their way through the bustling street.  She spots a tavern, The Conch, motions toward it*  This’un looks as likely as any.  *he seems to hesitate a minute, distracted by the colorful people all around them, particularly the saucy women in garish dresses who giggle and give him the eye then glance at Manouche warily.  Manouche grins, murmurs to Corso*  Ye won’t be lonely tonight, Dean Corso, unless it’s yer choice.  *they enter the tavern, Manouche unlinks her arm from his, moves to the bar, speaks to the barkeep*  Absinthe, mate, th’ best ye ‘ave.  *the man, a rough burly sort, barely grunts acknowledgment of her, turns and finds a dusty green bottle, pulls it from the shelf, sets it before her.  She blows the dust off it, reads the label approvingly, digs in a pocket, hands him the money*  Cheers.  *she takes the bottle, finds a small table in a dark corner of the room, sits down, opens the bottle, drinks straight from it; she sets it on the table, finds a cigarette, lights it, offers a prayer of thanks for the soothing mellow feeling that courses through her*

At the Security office:

Isabella *enters the Security building. No one is at the front desk, but she quickly spots Donnie’s name on the first door and knocks before sticking her head in*  You wanted to talk me?

Donnie *smiles*  Yes, do come in.  Have a seat.  *Isabella takes a seat by the desk across from Donnie; she’s a bit quieter than usual and doesn’t have that keen expression in her eyes.*  Have you ever thought about becoming an officer?  We’re a bit understaffed here and I think it might be good to have a woman on the force.  Sometimes women will say more to another woman than a male officer.  I think you’d be good at it.  You know From Hell Court, you have good instincts…

Isabella *in surprise*  You want me to become an officer?

Donnie *nods*  Yeah.  Obviously, you’ll be in a training program as a recruit, but I was thinking I’d pair you up with our young Officer Hanson.  He’s gone through all the training, but lacks some experience.  My theory is that you could learn from each other … you’ll learn proper procedures in different situations and maybe you could toughen him up a bit along the way.

Isabella *grows quiet; finally speaks with some hesitation*  What if I told you that I’m trying to be less tough … change that about me.

Donnie *for the first time notices that she looks sad; turns serious*  As an officer, you don’t have to be tough all the time … there are plenty of situations where it’s more beneficial to be kind and understanding.  *Carefully*  Are you alright?

Isabella *hesitates*  I’m OK … personal issues.

Donnie:  I see … anything you want to talk about?

Isabella *smiles a little*  I’d rather not, but thanks for asking.  *A little unsure*  Personal issues aside, you really think I’d be good at it?

Donnie *smiles*  Yes, I do.  Look, you don’t have make up your mind right this moment.  Take some time and think it over.

Isabella:  I’ll let you know.  *Rises and shakes his hand; she’s half-way out the door when she turns*  I heard about Grace taking off … she’ll be back, I’m sure of it.

Donnie *appreciatively*  Thank you for saying so.  *Isabella smiles a little, then leaves*

At the docks:

Blake and Malachi *bring The Libertine Trailer into its slip, secure the ship and go ashore.  They’re saying little, both preoccupied with their concerns for Manouche, and now for the missing Perhan.  Blake looks at Malachi*  Malachi, I know it’s stupid of me to ask, I know you’d say something if it were so, but … I don’t suppose you’re sensing anything from her, are you?

Malachi *shakes head*  Sorry, Blake.  I hate to say it, but I think she’s shutting me out.  Which, knowing the way she’s operated all these years I’ve known her, that probably means she’s got something she’s hiding.  *smirks*  For someone who talks way too much most of the time, she sure can play close to the vest when she wants to.  *he finds cigarettes, lights one, hands the pack to Blake*  Did you see the 12th Commandment go flyin’ by us earlier, were you on deck?  She was movin’ so fast, I barely recognized her.  Where the hell do you suppose Portsmith was headed in such a hurry?

Blake:  I saw a ship … I was below, didn’t notice which ship it was.  It was the 12th Commandment?  *pauses, looks around pensively; frowns*  I don’t give a damn.  *looks at Malachi*  Do you think she’s stayin’ away on purpose?

Malachi *startled*  What’re you talking about?

Blake *shrugs*  I don’t know … last time I saw her, she seemed happy enough, but then she took off again, took the ship, said she had something to do.  *runs a hand through his hair, exasperated*  I go back an’ forth on this a lot … I’m never sure she’s content.  I’ve talked to Donnie, he goes through the same thing with Grace, and we’ve all seen the problems between Abberline an’ Kat.

Malachi:  You can’t compare your situation with Manouche … I mean, there are similarities, but it’s different.  The main difference being, you’ve joined her for most of her journeys.  So she made this one without you.  I’m sure she had her reasons, probably damn good ones.  Have a little faith.

Blake *shakes his head, miserable*  I want to, don’t you think I want to?  But it’s hard, it’s really hard sometimes.  I wish … I wish I shared that sixth-sense mumbo-jumbo you all seem to have …

Malachi *smiles*  Well, there’s a good sign right there.

Blake *looks at him*  Wh-what?

Malachi:  Therein lies a big difference.  You wish you had those abilities.  Abberline would pay a pretty price to be rid of them, and to change Kat’s pirate ways.  *puts an arm around Blake’s shoulders*  Look, Blake, I’ve seldom seen a couple more suited to each other than you two.  You’ve come through far worse than this together.  Don’t let something eat away at you when you don’t even know exactly what’s goin’ on.  Savvy?

Blake *is quiet, considering his words; nods slowly*  Savvy.  I guess I’m just tired, an’ I’m tired of worryin’.  *pauses*  I don’t suppose she’s home?

Malachi *shrugs, grins*  I’m not a total seer.  She might be.  *slaps him on the back*  Go home, get some rest.  You two’ll figure this out, like you always do.  *he thinks of Miranda*  I’m goin’ home, I’m beat.  You gonna be okay?

Blake *nods again*  Sure.  Thanks for your help.  Just … be sure an’ call if you learn anything, anything at all.

Malachi:  You bet.  *he turns away, heads toward la Maison de Paradis.  Despite his eagerness to see Miranda, he walks slowly, continues to try to concentrate on Manouche, but feels nothing.  He sighs, murmurs to himself*  You win for now, trouble girl …

Blake *watches him go, looks up at The Libertine Trailer one more time, then turns to head for home.  He walks past Chez Roux, has passed the building by about a half block when he hears a voice behind him; he turns, stares, his eyes wide*  C-Constance … Constance Holliday … is it really you?

Constance *hurries toward him, face flushed*  I – I saw you walk by the restaurant!  *she stops before him, trying to catch her breath*  I’m sorry to just show up like this, but … when I got your letter, I … *she calms her breathing, looks at him approvingly*  You look so well.  It’s wonderful to see you, Bill.

Blake *still stares at her, not sure he can believe his eyes*  B-but … when did you … how … *he regains his composure, remembers his manners, takes her hand*  It – it’s good to see you too, Constance.  You … *his eyes sweep over her* … you haven’t changed a bit.

Constance *laughs a little nervously*  You’re too kind!  *she beams at him*  Are you in a hurry, or … can we have a drink?

Blake *turns, glances in the direction of Rartigillichal – the home he’s been missing but has also been loathe to return to, not wanting to face it without Manouche – then he looks again at Constance, who’s gazing at him so happily, so glad to see him.  He feels a pang of guilt; although he didn’t tell her to come, she wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t written that letter.  His old love, the woman who at one time he had been certain he would spend the rest of his life with ... Constance Holliday Blake ... He nods, a little uneasily*  Well … sure, Constance, I have time for one drink.  I have to go after that, but … let’s catch up a little.  *manages a smile*  It is nice to see you.  *she links her arm in his, they walk back to Chez Roux*