The CLever Detective

The Gemini Archives Book 7
by Jill D'Entremont

Gemini Trilogy Part 2: Armed with new-found determination, Gemini follows a distress call to Baltimore, USA in 1849, and there she is reunited with poet and author Edgar Allan Poe. What seems to be a simple case quickly turns into a murder mystery, and the plot grows even larger than even Gemini could have imagined. All the while, James dutifully watches over Amaya and Vance as The Doctor hits a dead end on his search for Gemini. He soon happens upon a team of young time-travelers on a mission he cannot refuse: recovering Gemini.

Originally written & illustrated November 2013
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Chapter 1

United States.  Baltimore, Maryland.  Year 1849 A.D., Anno Domini, local time. Date, 30 September.

I stepped outside of my TARDIS and found myself on the banks of the Jones Falls River.  I was not in a part of Baltimore I was familiar with, but according to my TARDIS, this was where I needed to be.  I locked the TARDIS, noting it had taken the shape of a large wooden crate in order to blend in among the rest of the freight along the shore.

In the evening light, I made my way out to the already emptying streets.  I wondered how I would be able to find out who had sent the distress signal to The Doctor’s psychic paper.  Removing it from my jacket pocket again, the note still remained among a mass of scribbles.

The lightning in the sky... As it passed me flying by... from the thunder, and the storm...

I looked up as the rumbling of distant thunder reached my ears, and a gust of cold wind made its way to where I stood. I shuddered and pulled my coat tighter around my neck, debating running back to the TARDIS for a scarf.

I looked down at the paper again.  I could sense a great amount urgency within the message, despite not actually saying so.  The message was almost poetic; it was clearly sent by someone with a firm grasp of words.  

My lips pulled to a smirk.  Who did I know with a firm grasp of words who often resided in nineteenth century Baltimore?  It had almost been too obvious to be seen.  

Up ahead in the shadows stumbled a figure dressed in a long black coat.  He looked to be headed in my direction, though it wasn’t clear he was purposely moving towards me.

Another line appeared on the psychic paper.

And the cloud that took the form... when the rest of Heaven was blue... of a demon in my view.

The man staggered into the light a few feet away from me.  It was Edgar Allan Poe.

He stopped and pulled himself upright as we gazed at each other. The youthful features from when I had first met him had faded, and he had now assumed the look he was most remembered by: A high forehead with thinning black hair in a wave across his head, eyes that held a shadow beneath his tall brows, a thin mustache upon his lip... And most noticeably of all, a pained and weary expression covered his pale complexion.

“...Mister Poe?” I said after a moment, if only just to break the silence.

His dark eyes widened.  He straightened himself even taller as his curiosity piqued.   His hands absent-mindedly began to reach towards me.

“...Gemini?”

Now I was the one taken aback.   He remembered me? After over fifteen years of his time?  “Yes,” I replied, finding myself smiling.

“Oh—” he exclaimed, drawing his arms wide.  “Oh—I—I can’t believe it is you!”

He embraced me longer and tighter than I was expecting, but I hugged him back nonetheless.  As he pulled back, it was hard not to catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath, but his entire demeanor had cleared considerably as he smiled at me.

“Gemini, this is truly a gift!  ...I do not lie when I say that these days you have not been far from my thoughts...” he said, still grinning warmly.  

I had to smile in return.  “Same for you, Edgar,”

The curious expression returned.  “My word... you have scarcely aged a day since then...” He slowly brought a hand to my cheek.

“Older and wiser,” I mentioned, slightly embarrassed by the touch.

Edgar smiled.  “Indeed, though you can clearly see the lines of wisdom on my face...”

“You still look like Edgar to me,”

The writer closed his eyes and shook his head, a look of happiness upon his face.  “It is so very good to see you again, Ms. Gallagher.”  He looked up, and the happiness had already begun to fade.  “And you could not have come at a better time.  Things have... not been as well as at our last meeting...”

I had almost forgotten about the distress signal.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked nervously around before turning back with a harried expression.  “Would you be so kind as to accompany me to my flat?  I... I don’t feel this is the place to... to say...”

“Of course,” I agreed.  “Lead the way.”

- - -

Edgar took my coat as soon as we stepped inside the tiny apartment, and he hung it on a rack beside the door.  He gestured me to sit down on a simple wooden chair, and, after hanging up his own coat, he sat down on a chair across from me.

“Pardon the mess,” He apologized for the state of the flat, “I’m residing here a few days before continuing to New York.  I... needed a bit of time to myself.”

“Do you not live here in Baltimore anymore?” I asked, shaking my head to his offer of a bottle of cognac.

He poured himself a glass and sat back in the chair.  “No, I moved to Richmond a few years after our meeting.  When I had a steady job at the newspaper, I married my dear Virginia and moved her and her family there.”  He looked through his glass of cognac as he wandered through his memories.  “Virginia and I then moved to New York some years later...”  He trailed off on the sentence, and his jovial walk through his mind had turned dark.  “...She passed away not two years ago.”

I frowned, having missed so much of Edgar’s life between my travels.  “I’m so sorry,” I offered sadly.  “She was a very sweet young woman.”

“Far too young for death...” Edgar shifted in his chair.  “Taken much too soon... But,” he concluded quickly, almost causing me to jump.  “That is not why I have been so indisposed.”  He set down the glass without ever actually drinking any and clutched his hands together.  “I fear... I fear a demon has been following me.”

“A demon?” I asked.  There had been demons and other dark figures mentioned in many of Poe’s works, but this fear seemed to go beyond his literary endeavors.

“Yes... I know it sounds absurd, but it is there... dark and brooding... ever-watchful and never leaving me...” His face showed a deep fear.  “It appeared as I was visiting a—a friend in Richmond.  I thought leaving that place would leave it behind, but it follows me even here...”

I was trying hard to comprehend what he spoke of.  If it were something in his own mind, there would be little I could do.  However, after travelling through time and meeting creatures I would have never thought existed, there was a fair chance he really could be seeing some sort of other-worldly creature.  After all, the cry for help was enough to send a message to the psychic paper.  “What does it look like?  What does it do?”

Edgar held open his hands.  “It is large; human, yet still inhuman in appearance.  I can never see its features very clearly; it is shrouded in darkness.  It hides among the shadows... everywhere I go, I can see it hiding... waiting...”  He went pale for a moment before lifting his shoe from the floor and flinging it behind me.  I jumped as it landed with a flop in the corner of the room.  When I turned back around, I saw the shoe was now resting on another long coat that had been dropped there.

Edgar sighed and sat back in his chair.  “I apologize... it is terrible... terrible for you to see me like this...”  He finally returned to the cognac and drank half the glass in one shot.

I frowned.  “When was the last time you saw it?”

“Not long before I happened upon you,” the writer was again staring into his glass, “as I was leaving the tavern.”

“Which tavern?”

“Ryan’s Tavern at Gunner’s Hall.”

I nodded slowly; my task had been assigned. “...I’ll see what I can do,” I said, sounding as assured as I could, despite not knowing how to go about such an investigation.

Edgar immediately looked up.  “No—I cannot ask you to go out looking for it.  I do not want it to take you!”

“It won’t,” I assured him as I started to my feet.

He was up on his feet faster, however, and he held my shoulder firmly.  “Please, Gemini, don’t... at least not tonight.  It’s not safe... I—I can’t bare for something to happen to you, too...”

I was silenced in his grasp.  I breathed slowly, averting my eyes from his stern gaze to glance out the window behind him.  The sun had nearly set, and the trees were already being tossed in the growing wind.  It would have been fairly foolish to venture out when I was being welcomed in a warm flat by a friend.

“All right.” I submitted, immediately feeling his hand release as he straightened back up.  “But I want to help you—and I will, so I can make up for the time I haven’t been here.”

A smile had returned to his face as he stood before me.  “I suppose I will not argue with that.”  With that, the man finally relaxed and became a host again.  He stepped around my chair and knelt before the fireplace.  “Please make yourself at home; I’ll have a fire going shortly.  Have you already got yourself a room for the night?”

I noticed that he had glanced at my coat as he made the statement, which led me to believe he was wondering where my belongings were if I had just travelled into town.  

In my silence of trying to figure out the best way to answer, Poe continued.  “You are certainly welcome to stay here for the night—if you wish.  There is a loft above the back room with a small bed.  We can gather your belongings in the morning—and I’ll have them wipe any tab you may have rung up.”

“Oh, Edgar, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I started, wishing I could just tell him the truth of my time-travelling so as to make things less complicated for me to cover up.

“But you don’t need to,” he stood up with a proud smile.  The fire had finally started.  “I simply must make up for the time you haven’t been here.”

I shook my head and laughed.  “All right.”  Pausing, I watched him gaze into the steadily-growing fire.  “I have to say, I was flattered that you remembered me.” I admitted slowly.

His dark eyes were warm as he turned to me.  “Gemini... how could I forget?  You were there when my story won a contest in the paper; MS. Found in a Bottle.  You were the only one who deciphered my hidden metaphor.”  He chuckled lightly, “I remember you being quite shy... it was as if you saw me as someone greater than who I really was.”

I felt my face flush.  He was pretty well right with that statement, but I again could not answer the way I wanted to.  I simply smiled and looked down at my lap—shyly.

“Have you heard anything from Raven lately?”

My smile faded.  “No,” I said simply.

“She left the day you did... I hadn’t seen either of you since.”  He rubbed his chin as he thought to himself.  “You know, you remind me of her.”

I didn’t reply.  I had kept strong and held Rovenna’s influence at bay ever since my visit with Cain and Feidal.  As much as I idolized Poe, I was going to have to show him that his last statement was wrong.

---

Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning before Edgar did, mostly because he had stayed up for a considerable amount of time after I had turned in.  I had stirred once during night and had noticed the light of a candle glimmering on the narrow staircase to the loft I was occupying.  I then heard the sound of papers crinkling and a few words of discontent from the mouth of the writer.  I smirked and turned over, falling back to sleep in the small but cozy bed.

The stairs squeaked as I descended, and I walked as softly as I could through Edgar’s room before entering the small kitchen and living area.  Warm sunlight filled the once shadowed room, and I had to laugh at how many of Poe’s disheveled belongings had been hidden in the nighttime.  I decided quickly that my first task would be to straighten the room.

Edgar was still fast asleep after I finished cleaning, so I decided to make an initial run through town while I waited for him.  Taking my coat from the rack, I left the apartment and started down the stairs to ground level.  The outside air had warmed with the sun, and I walked comfortably down the street.  My next task would be to check out Ryan’s Tavern.

With the help of kindly residents, it didn’t take long to find Gunner’s Hall and Ryan’s Tavern to the east of Jones Falls River, and by then, I was hungry enough to sit down to eat as well.  After placing my order, I had a chance to question the manager about any odd occurrences that may have happened the day before.  The man denied anything out of the ordinary but said that he had seen the poet Edgar Poe among his patrons.  He hadn’t been aware that Mr. Poe had returned to Baltimore, but it was good to see him back.  I tried to question him further about anything Poe may have said or done, but he claimed Poe’s visit was a quiet one.  He ended the conversation mentioning that Gunner’s Hall would be operating as a polling station for the upcoming election—should I be interested in voting on October 3.  I thanked him for the information and finished my lunch.

The neighboring businesses were less inclined to speak to me, and all of them had no comment to offer before waving me off.  I even waited on the corner of Gunner’s Hall to catch anyone who looked friendly enough to answer my questions, but the only lead I got was that a black cat had been lost in the neighboring block.  I told the woman I would keep an eye out for it.

The alleys and passageways around the tavern had the potential for dark and twisted shadows, but they concealed no monsters or demons.  I even scanned the area with my sonic screwdriver when no one was looking and uncovered nothing.   I had almost hoped it was some sort of alien creature just so I could identify the culprit, but so far, this was not the case.  I was beginning to wonder if Poe’s senses were merely more alert than usual, causing him to see something in the shadows that wasn’t really there—much like the coat in his flat.  Or, he could have seen a normal human being and thought it was something more other-worldly.  I had hoped alcohol wouldn’t be the problem, but I figured it wasn’t helping matters.

Turning back down the street, I returned to my TARDIS to gather a few belongings so that I looked like a proper traveler.  As much as I wanted to help Edgar Allan Poe, this demon hunt was not proving to be easy.

- - -

I started up the stairs to Poe’s flat, and I found the front door already opened.  I shrugged and knocked on the doorframe before letting myself in.  To my surprise, Edgar was not at home.  A small trail of paper revealed he had run through his bed room and through the front room—forgetting his coat on the rack and leaving the door open.  I had a feeling he had rushed out in search for me, since I hadn’t left anything behind to prove I would be returning.  I decided it would be best for me to stay behind and wait for him.

I slowly knelt down to gather the papers that had been scattered.  They were the beginnings of poems, all titled “To G____”.  Poe had a habit of writing poems to various friends and relatives, and then releasing them with the name removed.  It was fairly easy to guess who “G” was, considering the letter my name started with.  Curious, I picked one of the unfinished scraps to read.

To G_____,

When darkness all around me grows
And thunder brings a mighty clap
The shadows ‘round the eyes of foes
And wind doth

There were a few scribbles below the line, but he clearly lost how the stanza could end and still rhyme with “clap”.  I sifted through a few more pieces of paper and found what looked to be a finished version.

To G_____,

Darkness all around me grows;
Thunder brings a mighty sound;
Shade increasing round my foes–
Wind across the deathly ground .

Light – ah, light! – thy light doth shine!
Guide me back to what is right!
Raven, eyes of Gemini –
Twin stars ever shining bright!

Lead my sullen mind from grave!
Sing to me the joy you see!
Take my hand and show the way –
Only you—my joy can be!

I felt a shiver run through me, not out of cold, but that I was holding such a poem.  Edgar had been so moved as to stay up all night to write about me; comparing me to light in the darkness... I suppose I seemed like a God-send considering his cry for help was so strong, it withstood time to find me.

But there was her name again... Raven.  Perhaps he was using the bird as a metaphor; after all, I had nothing against the beautiful black birds and the star of Edgar’s most famous poem.  But lately, every comparison of myself to the Time Lord who bore the same nickname now sent a pang of anger through me.  I did not want to be her; I was trying so hard not to be.  However, I realized I needed to put it past me; it was nothing of Edgar’s fault.  And besides, I had just read a poem in the hand of Edgar Allan Poe that was secretly written to me.  I felt giddy again.  What if he were to publish it?  Would tomorrow’s scholars have any clue who "G____" really was?

Still feeling tingly, I scooped up the remaining drafts and put them back onto the desk.  One piece of paper had remained on the desk, and I lifted the untitled poem to set the other poems beneath it.  As I laid the stack down, I turned it towards me to read it.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then—in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

E. A. Poe

I immediately recognized the final stanzas; they had been sent to me as Edgar’s cry for help.  Somehow he had thought about this poem so intensely and so helplessly that it appeared on The Doctor’s psychic paper.

The front door opened so suddenly that the sound caused me to jump.  I barely had a chance to turn around when I heard a sharp cry from Edgar.

“Ah!! There you are!” A wave of relief went through him as he slowed to a stop in the front room.  It was clear he had been incredibly worried.

“I’m so sorry to worry you!” I said, walking towards him, “I went off this morning to get my things,”

Edgar was shaking his head.  “I knew you wouldn’t have just left, but... I had regrettably slept in, and I was worried when I did not see you.  I went out to the inns in town, but none claimed to have you on their books.  That worried me even more...”

I frowned nervously.  “I’m sorry,” I said again.  “But please know that I’m not going to leave town without telling you first.”

A semblance of a smile was finally returning to his harried expression.  “I just... I feared for you.”  His eyes strayed to the desk I stood beside.   “Did you read those?”

I looked down at the desk.  “They were on the floor... I picked them up...”

Edgar didn’t seem upset, but he didn’t seem terribly happy as he walked over and stepped between me and the desk.  When he saw the untitled poem at the top of the stack, he seemed to loosen up.  “Oh, this one,”

“I did read that one,” I admitted.

“This old thing,” he mused, straightening it up.  “I wrote it when I was twenty...”

“That?” I stood amazed.  I thought for sure it had been a recent telling of his ever-haunted feeling.  But to have been written when he was still relatively young...

“True, it speaks of a demon; the likes of which I have seen at the present... but no, then, it was simply a metaphor.  Then it was my young mind coping with how I was different than everyone else.  I did not see things the way others saw.  I did not feel things others felt.”

“I know the feeling,” I muttered.

Edgar looked up at me almost dreamily.  “...Still, I have never published it,” he said after a pause.

“You should; it’s really rather beautiful.”

He smirked a bit.  “Beautifully sorrowful.”

“Perhaps.  But still beautiful.”

“You flatter me, as always.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I grinned.

Edgar chuckled, placing a hand on my shoulder.  “I appreciate you, Gemini.”  He paused again, his eyes drifting aside.  “Would you care to go for a walk?”

“Of course, I’d love to.”

He seemed more like a young boy when I answered him.  He grinned shyly and turned toward the door to gather his coat.  He embarrassedly looked to me as he took it.  “...I left without my coat this morning.”

“I noticed.” I smiled back.

“And... and you cleaned the room.”

I shrugged.  “Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

He outright laughed at the comment and stepped back toward me.  He hesitated when he reached my side, and then held out his arm to me.

Flattered, I playfully swooned as I took his arm.  I was going to have an evening on the town with my favorite author, and I had already decided I would not let a single thing bother me.

- - -

Edgar and I sat together at the bar in Ryan’s Tavern.  We had walked along the Jones Falls River until we reached a part of town he referred to as Mechanic’s Row.  He mentioned that he, his aunt, and her family lived there for a short time before they moved to the house on Amity street—the house in which I had first met him.  

When the bartender came up to us, Edgar ordered a shot of something and tried to order the same for me, but I still refused.  He looked at me oddly when I asked for a glass of water.

“You don’t drink?” he asked as the bartender turned to prepare our drinks.

“Nah,” I replied.  “Never had a taste for it.”

Poe chuckled slightly.  “Perhaps you are wiser than I.  Though I can say with truth I do not drink as much as I used to.”

“That’s good,” I nodded.  “You’ve made progress, eh?”

Poe smiled, looking up as the drink was slid towards him.  “I have, indeed.”  He turned to me, leaning on the bar.  “Much has happened since our last meeting.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” I replied, “It’s been more years than I dare count.”

“We’ve never discussed what you’ve been up to all this time.  You were a traveler last I saw you.”

“I still am,” I smiled.

“So what else has there been for you?  Did you ever wed?”

I had to think of how to answer such a question.  To Edgar, it had been almost sixteen years since I had arrived with The Doctor and James.  To me, it had been a little more than a year.  Should I answer in truth?  Or should I devise a sort of second life to fill the gap?

“...Yes.” I said after a moment.

Edgar hummed softly.  “To that strapping young doctor, I’ll bet.”

I had to chuckle.  “You have a good memory.”

“But this brings up a new question,” The gentleman leaned his chin on his hand.  “Why is a married woman like you travelling alone?”

“Ah... well,” I shifted in my seat and pulled the glass of water closer to me.  “I had an errand to run and... well, he’s a Doctor, so he wasn’t able to accompany me this time.  I’m making my way back to him now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”  He sat back on the stool.  “You bear a great independence that so many married women shrug off once the wedding bands are given.   And your husband is a good man to let you live thusly.”  He smiled at his hands.  “A good husband can provide for his wife, but he must realize she provides just as much life for him...”

I smiled, but Poe’s mind had noticeably returned to the subject of his late wife, Virginia, and his expression again grew dark.   I bit my lip and put a hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He said, much softer than before.  “I... It’s simply hard to escape the grip of sorrow sometimes.”

“I know.”  I said.  “But I’m willing to help you as much as I can.”

He turned his dark eyes upward.  “Thank you.”  He smiled for a moment and began to finger the rim of the glass idly.  “What else do you do when you’re not travelling?”

I hummed in thought.  “Ah, a lot of things... I’m a bit of an actor and singer,”

“A singer?” He was intrigued.  “But of course; you are poetic enough.”

“I’m not sure if I’m a poet—and certainly not one like you are.” I grinned, nudging him softly.

“Oh, but music and poetry go hand in hand,” Edgar took my hand in demonstration.  “Music, when combined with a pleasurable idea, is poetry... music without the idea is simply music.”  He released my hand and smiled cleverly.  “When you sing from the heart, you create poetry.”

I was quite flattered at his words, and I beamed softly to myself.  “That’s beautiful,”

He lifted his glass.  “If I may hear you sing, I’ll be able to verify your statement.”

My face turned red, either from the almost-flirting of Edgar Allan Poe, or from imaging the embarrassment of breaking out into song in the bar room.  “...Not here.” I concluded.

He nodded and turned to the bar.  “Then I wish to offer a toast, despite the fact you only have water.”

I smirked and a lifted my glass, holding it near his.  “All right, what for?”

“A toast to you, Gemini,” Edgar said, “that our friendship will not fade—only death shall attempt to cut its ties.”

“And a toast to you, Edgar,” I added, “because I’d like to think our friendship will keep on going through all of time and space.”

He seemed surprised at the addition, but shook it off and held his glass higher.  “I will drink to that!”

Our glasses clinked together and we downed our shots.

- - -

I had left the tavern a moment before Poe did as he took care of the tab, and I made one more scan of the area with my sonic screwdriver.  For the first time since my arrival in Baltimore, the readings I received were inconclusive.  Something was interfering with my sonic.  My heart began to race.  Could Edgar’s demon finally have shown itself?

I walked with a guarded step around the side of the ally with the light of my sonic to guide me.  The readings were beginning to clear, and I soon found myself at a dead end with nothing at all around me.

Almost as soon as I had deactivated the device, I heard Edgar cry out from the street.  I immediately raced towards him and found him across the street from the tavern on his knees.

“Edgar!” I called as I ran towards him.

He nearly fell backward when he saw me run up to him.  “Gemini, you—you’re—” It took him a moment to regain his composure and point to a darkened shadow lying near the gutter.  I slowly moved closer to it, and gasped when I could make out the motionless figure’s face.  It was easy to see why Poe had reacted in such a way.

The figure could have been my twin.  She had the same facial structure, though she did not have glasses, had short brown hair, and a similar build.  She lay in a heap in the gutter with traces of blood on her jacket.  The street seemed to be clear.

“I thought it was you,” Edgar almost whimpered.  “I thought it was you...”

“What’s all the commotion out here?” the manager of Ryan’s Tavern was standing in the doorway across the street.  “Are you two all right out there?”

“There’s a body of a young woman in the street,” I called back, my own voice wavering as a chill ran down my spine.

The manager was beside us in a matter of moments, and when he saw the body, he cursed and started back to the tavern.  “Get the police!” he cried.  “There’s been a murder!”

---

Chapter 3

Edgar and I sat in the morgue as we waited for the police investigator to examine the body of the young woman.  She had not yet been identified, though the policemen asked me countless times if I was the woman’s sister.  They never seemed to believe me when I said that I didn’t know who she was.

But the similarity between this woman and myself was what was driving me to know what happened to her.  It may have been completely irrational, but I feared that whatever happened to her was meant to happen to me.  I shuddered again, hoping my paranoid human mind was the cause of these thoughts and that I would be proven wrong.

All the while, Edgar had remained silent.  I knew he was thinking over everything that had happened, and I had a feeling those thoughts centered on the elusive demon.

When the police investigator returned, I stood up to meet him.  “What have you found out?”

“She appears to have died from a gash to her abdomen,” he said plainly.  “There are minor scratches and bruising elsewhere, but nothing as serious as the gash.  And the police say you don’t know who she is?”

“No, sir, I don’t.” I replied shortly.  “But if I may, I’d like to take a look myself.”

Edgar and the investigator both looked at me incredulously.  “Ma’am, that’s... as someone who is not a relative, I don’t believe I can allow it until we notify her kin.”

“I’m a detective,” I said assuringly, despite never claiming to be one in the past.  “I may be able to decipher what happened to her—something you can pass along to her family once she is identified.  Because she still hasn’t been identified, correct?”

The investigator seemed taken aback.  “No, not yet.”  He glanced around the room and sighed.  “Be quick about it.” He finally caved.

I stood and started to leave as Edgar wavered behind, unsure as to whether or not he needed to follow.

“You may go too, sir.” The investigator waved him off, though he added softly, “Is she truly a detective?”

“Of course she’s a detective.” Edgar said proudly. He then turned and followed me into the back room.

The room was stark white and cold.  Tile covered the floor and a pungent smell filled the room.  I made a face as I scanned the handful of half-covered bodies that lay motionlessly on tables.  The unfortunate young woman was at the back of the room, and I motioned for Edgar to follow.

“I must say... writing tales of detective stories do not include the scents involved,” Edgar mentioned in passing.  I watched as he scanned each of the bodies before joining me at the table beside the young woman.  “So is this what you’ve really been up to all these years?  A detective?”  He glanced at me with an odd gleam to his eye.  “You should have said so sooner!”

I shrugged, eyeing the young woman’s motionless face.

“What irks you about her?  The way she looks so similar to you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I just feel like I needed to look further into this.  Something is not right.”

Edgar looked at me.  “Do you think...”

I looked at him, knowing where he was going.  “I don’t know for sure, but it may be.”

“The demon...” Edgar said with a hint of darkness to his voice.

I quietly apologized to the deceased young woman and pulled the sheet from her body until she was uncovered to her hips.  Her naked form was pale and prominently displayed a red gash across her abdomen, just as the investigator had said.  But something still didn’t seem right.

“If the gash was the cause of death, there should have been a lot more blood on and around her,” I mused.

Edgar’s expression had changed as well. “There was no blood in the street,”

“No, there wasn’t.  Even if she was moved, there would have been drops—traces of blood in the area.”

“So you’re saying...?”

“That gash was not made when she was alive.” I said plainly.  “And it was made long enough after her death that her blood stopped flowing, so barely any was spilled.  There was only a bit on her dress, if I remember.”

Edgar looked puzzled.  “Then why would someone even bother making the gash?”

I frowned and looked down.  “To mask the real cause of death.”

The horror writer brought a hand to his mouth and shook his head.  He winced as I pulled the bottom of the sheet up, keeping it folded across her middle out of decency.  Her legs were dotted in a series of scrapes, scratches, and bruises.

“All of these scratches were made before she died.” I continued my observation.  “There’s still a twinge of blood on her skin.  It’s almost as if she was running through brambles or thorns to be given that many scratches...”

“And then she came to her hands and knees.” Edgar made a face before gently turning over one of her hands.  The palm was heavily scuffed, further adding to the running-before-falling theme.

I walked around to the end of the bed and noticed the bottom of her right foot was cut and bloody, while the other was clean.  “...She must have lost a shoe, as well.”  I started shaking my head.  “She had to have been chased, or was otherwise afraid, to have run through so much damage to her legs and feet.”  I paused, glancing to the door as the investigator peeked his head in.  With an idea, I set my hands on the cold table.

“Sir, do you still have the clothing she was found in?” I directed to the investigator.  Edgar, meanwhile, had been distracted by something in the young woman’s hair.

The investigator scratched his head.  “I believe it’s all in a box beneath the table... Are you almost finished?”

“Almost.” I said shortly, ducking under the table and finding the box.  I immediately began to dig through the box, finding a good bit of leaves and dirt on her bodice, jacket, and dress.  And sure enough, at the bottom of the box was one lady’s shoe.  I pulled it out and found myself grinning at my deductive abilities.

“I don’t believe she was in town when she was running,” Edgar said once I had turned my attention back above the table.  He pointed to her hair, and within its tangled mass was a light brown pine needle.

“A pine needle,” I said aloud.  “And there were leaves among her clothes,”

“Pines can be found north of town.  A great deal more foliage and brambles can be found there as well.”

I frowned.  “So how did she end up across the street from Ryan’s Tavern?”

“And why did someone feel the need to slash her across the middle after she was already dead?”

I began to play with the ends of my hair as I thought through the clues.  “She was being chased through the forest... lost a shoe... and then somehow she died... but her chaser wanted to throw the investigators off from the real cause of death by giving her the gash...”

“And they wanted her to be found, so they brought her into town.” Edgar’s eyes were wide.

“So they slashed her when they dropped her off.”  My eyes were just as wide as his.  “...But how did she really die?”

Edgar’s hand was back at his mouth.  “We have come across a true mystery...”

“We sure have.”  I waited a moment, finishing up my thoughts before I set the shoe back into the box and started to cover the young woman back up with the sheet.

“What will you do next?” Edgar asked, helping me cover the woman’s face.

“I think tomorrow we will venture outside of town and see what we can find...” I eyed him.

Edgar nodded in approval.  “You are the detective, Gemini.  I will follow your lead.”

With that, we turned and started out of the cold room, passing the inspector and another man I assumed worked in the morgue as we exited.  Although Edgar and I bid them a good night, both could only watch us with silent eyes.  Only the investigator finally tipped his hat before the door was closed behind us.  That, among many other reasons, made it impossible for me to shake the chill that still ran down my back from the depths this mystery was taking me.

- - -

I had scarcely slept that night thanks to the thoughts that plagued my mind.  I had finally come to terms with my genetics and had finally learned to keep Rovenna at bay; but a new worry had taken hold.  I was far too concerned that whatever happened to the young woman was supposed to happen to me.  I needed to solve the mystery, whether the murderer was Edgar’s demon or someone trying to track me down.  I closed my eyes as the sun broke in through the shallow dormer window of my loft in Edgar’s flat.  I did not want to be responsible for another death.

I sighed and got myself up.  I was surprised to find Edgar was already awake when I descended the stairs into his room.

“You certainly rise early,” he said with a bit of a smile.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.

He frowned and started to shuffle out of bed.  “I shall fix us some tea, then.”  He said simply.

Once we had eaten breakfast, we headed north of town into the wooded outskirts of Baltimore.  Edgar and I split up early on, finding it almost impossible to find anything among the foliage.  There was no telling where or how far away the action took place, and as I searched through bramble after bramble with no luck, I gave in and pulled out my sonic screwdriver.  Almost immediately, I picked up an odd jumble of readings.  The interference was strong, and its source was not very far away.  My heart was racing as I turned around and I noticed I was pointing my sonic screwdriver at Edgar.

I deactivated the sonic and nearly dropped it.  “...Oh, um...” I fumbled over my words as well.

The writer was looking at me was an almost fearful look to his face.  “What... is that?”

I took a deep breath.  I couldn’t explain this easily.  “...A probe?” I questioned myself.

“A what?”

I pressed my lips together and looked at the device in my hands.  “It’s hard to explain.  I’m using it to help me...”

Edgar continued to look at me with an odd expression.  “Will it help you find the shoe?”

“Yes, and hopefully a lot more.”

My friend shook his head.  “Then, continue... please.”

I nodded, thankful he was leaving it with that.  I could probably get away with explaining my true nature to him—especially with how close of a friend he was becoming—but I was afraid of what would happen if word got out that I was part-Time Lord.  After all, something else was already wrong with this point in time, and I feared I was the cause to begin with.

I activated the device again and started to scan through the brambles.  I needed to get closer to the source of the interference, but as I did, I noticed nothing was changing.  Nothing was coming into view, nothing was hidden among the leaves, and nothing looked any different.  I was about to give up when I stepped on something that clearly wasn’t a branch.  I shut off the screwdriver and looked down.  There was the elusive slipper shoe beneath my black boot.

“Edgar!” I called.  “I found it!”

I heard a reply, but couldn’t make out what he said due to the distance.  I picked up the shoe and examined it with the screwdriver.  There was nothing out of the ordinary about the shoe, but I immediately noticed the interference around me was fading away.  I glanced around, getting the feeling that someone was deliberately playing with me.  I lowered my brows.   “Whoever you are... you’d better leave me and the people in this town alone—”

“What?”

Edgar was standing beside me.   My face flushed again.  “Found it,” I said, handing him the shoe.  

He took it into his hands and examined it.  “Are you certain this is the shoe?”

I blinked.  I suppose I never thought to question it.  “I guess—I mean, how many other shoes could there be out here?”

“No, no—I’m sure it is.” Edgar handed it back to me.  “I don’t mean to question you.”

“No, you’re right to question,” I replied.  “Maybe we should head back to the morgue to double-check.”

“I’m following you.” He said simply.  “Although I may begin to take notes for a new detective story...”

I smiled at the possibility of inspiring another tale of the Poe’s famous detective Auguste Dupin.  Adjusting the scarf at my neck, I returned to my detective duties.  “Then let us return to town, my dear Edgar.”

---

Chapter 4

When Edgar and I reached the morgue, the man who had been talking to the inspector the night before was standing at the main desk.  He immediately recognized us and began to eye me suspiciously.  He continued to glare even as I walked up to him, and I was coaxed into standing up straighter to look at him with an air of authority.

“Could I have access to the back room again?  I need to examine the clothing from the body found last night.”

The man scowled as he looked me over.

I crossed my arms.  “Yes, me.  I’m a detective.”

“You?”

“Young man, Mrs. Gallagher is trying to bring justice to that poor young woman found dead on the streets last night.  The least you could do is honor her request.”

Edgar stepping in finally got the morgue worker to move, and he reluctantly unlocked the door to the back room.  Mr. Poe gestured to me to walk through first, but the man pulled him aside shortly after I passed by.

“Are you sure you know what you’re allowing?” the man hissed a whisper in Edgar’s ear.

I didn’t stay to listen to the rest.  I walked across the room and to the young woman’s table as quickly as I could with the second shoe in hand.  I crouched down and pulled out the box of clothing, and I was astonished to find the first shoe was missing.

“No... you’ve got to be kidding me...” I dumped out the box and sifted through the contents.  The shoe was no longer in the box.  It was, however, replaced with a small piece of paper that read ‘Amontillado’ in simple, handwritten print.

I ran out just as Edgar was walking away from the morgue worker, and he quickly backed away as my look of determination flared up.

“There was a shoe in her box of clothing,” I directed to the worker, “Where is it?”

The worker retained his peeved expression.  “Ma’am, if it’s not in the box, we never received it.”

“You had it last night.”

He raised his hands.  “If it’s not in the box—”

“It was in the box—”

“What, that shoe in your hands?”

I looked at the shoe, then back at the man.  “Yes, this shoe that I walked in with is the shoe I was looking for.” I spouted with the utmost sarcasm.

The man scowled.  “Ma’am, I don’t appreciate the way—”

“Perhaps you simply remember it from the street,” Edgar stepped in, taking my arm.  “You remember it from when we found the unfortunate young woman outside, but not once we returned here.”

I shot him a look, not wanting to back down and falsely admit a mistake, but the look on his face made me think that we needed to walk away before I lost it.  I was flaring up and Edgar Allan Poe was reeling me back in.  When I realized what he had done, I humbly admitted defeat and left with Edgar.

“I’m sorry to do that, but we would not be getting anywhere with him.” Edgar said, still holding my arm as we walked down the street.  “He was suspicious of you.  I fear the demon may have found him and warped his mind...”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged.  “I was getting too worked up anyway... but I don’t understand what happened to the other shoe.  It was in the box last night, I swear it!”

“Yes, I got a glance myself,” Edgar slowed, and I was forced to slow as well since he had my arm.  “I’m unsure of where we should turn to next.”

I shrugged with my other arm.  “I guess we can look around the tavern... maybe we’ll find something after all.”

We returned to the tavern, and I nonchalantly scanned the area with my sonic screwdriver.  Edgar was still wary of the device, but he proved that he trusted it in my hands when he stepped into its path to block it from sight as a woman passed by.

“Have you found anything?” he asked me as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Not yet; but there’s definitely something odd in the area... just like in the forest... I just can’t figure out what...”

Edgar was shaking his head.  “The demon is clearly at work here.  I’ll bet it had something to do with all this...”

I sighed and let my hands drop to my side.  “Whoever it is, they’re not making it easy...”  I paused as my thoughts drifted.  “Wait, I had found a note in the box at the morgue,”

The writer drew closer to me.  “A note?  What did it say?”

“’Amontillado’...”  My eyes scanned the walls we were now surrounded by in the dead-end alleyway.  It was the same dead-end I had found myself in last night—the same dead-end across from where the body was found.  As my eyes drew across the back wall, I caught sight of a missing stone.  “...Hidden within the bricks like Fortunato...”

I slowly walked up to it and stood on my toes.  When I reached my hand in and felt what was inside, my heart began to race.

“You are joking...” Edgar gasped as I pulled a lady’s slipper shoe from the hole in the wall.  He gasped and covered his mouth.  “The shoe was—was walled up in the masonry!”

“Just like in ‘The Cask of Amontillado!’” I said, grasping the shoe in my hands.  “Someone took the shoe and replaced it with a clue!”

“And you out-smarted that one,” the writer seemed to beam a little, “because you’ve read my story!”

“Many times; that’s one of my favorites.” I said, smiling a little.

“Really?  That tale of obsessive revenge?”  He chuckled a bit, “I wouldn’t have picked that one for you...”

I raised my brows in curiosity.  “What would you have picked?”  

But just as I had spoken, I had looked down to discover another piece of paper within the shoe.  Our attention was diverted before Edgar could answer.  We were both silenced and drew closer as I unfolded the note.

“Nil... sapien—te...” I struggled to quote, reading the finely printed words.  

“Nil sapientiae odiosius acumine nimio.” Edgar finished, his eyes wide.

“...Say what?”

“It’s Latin; a quote from Seneca,” Edgar’s face had lit up, and he took the paper from me and held it in his hands.  “I used the quote at the start of my short story, ‘The Purloined Letter’... it translates to ‘nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessive cleverness,’”

I pressed my lips together, scowling and grinning at the same time.  “Of course... a line from one of the stories of Detective Auguste Dupin... So the murderer is aware that we’re on his trail, and that we’re being much too clever...”

“That you are being much too clever,” Edgar corrected.  “Your knowledge of my stories is ...oddly flattering, to say the least.”

“Our murderer seems to know just as much,” I pointed out, staring at the note in my hands.  There was only the single quote from ‘The Purloined Letter’ – no other clues that I could find.  I thought back to the story, trying to remember any details that could prove to be a lead for our mystery.  “Edgar, where did the search for the missing letter take place in your story?”

“Oh,” Edgar thought back, “Paris, France; in a hotel.  The Hotel D...”

“You never finish names sometimes,” I commented with a smirk.  “But there wouldn’t happen to be a similar hotel here in Baltimore, would there?”

“Well, there’s Beltzhoover’s Hotel across the river,” he rubbed his chin.  “It’s not at all as I imagined the Parisian hotel... but it’s worth a look.”  Noting the look of determination in my eye, he gently took my arm.  “But I would suggest you get something to eat or drink.  I know I could use a break, and we are right here at the tavern.”

I glanced behind at the street that passed in front of the tavern.  I wanted to keep moving; I wanted to keep going, but Edgar was probably correct.  I had to smile a bit as I began to realize Edgar was taking care of me better than I was taking care of myself.  He was a genuinely kind man, and his kindness had more than shone through the sadness I had found when I had first arrived in Baltimore two days prior.  I simply had to hope that we would be able to find the cause of the murder with our good moods still intact.

- - -

It took us a bit longer to reach Beltzhoover’s Hotel from Ryan’s Tavern, but we made it there in the late afternoon.  I noted that it was called the Baltimore House, but apparently it was better known by the new owner’s name. To get my bearings straight, I asked Edgar how far away his former house on Amity street was, and it was even further west from where we stood.   When I mentioned Westminister Burial Ground, he eyed me oddly before mentioning it was only a few blocks away.

“Just curious.  That was the only part of town I had seen the last time I was here.  It’s been nice getting to know the place better.” I explained as we stepped up to the door of the hotel.

“Understandable.” He nodded.  We both paused at the door before glancing at each other.  “So... what is it we’re going to look for here?”

I shrugged, grimacing in thought.  “I’m not entirely sure.  I’m assuming a letter... but I wouldn’t know where or how to find it...”

“Don’t tell me the great Detective Gallagher has grown stumped?” Edgar’s eyebrows raised.

“I never said that!” I quickly piped in.  “I just have to think... the only clue we got was that quote from Seneca from your story... the reason I’m guessing the hotel is because that’s where the stolen letter was found... and, in the story, Dupin found it by looking in plain sight.”

Beside the door was a bay window that stood out as half-hexagon of windowpanes.  Just inside was a desk with neat stacks of papers on one side, a wooden mug with a bird carved into its handle, and a letter simply folded and sealed with red wax.

Edgar had also noticed the letter set apart on the desk.  “You don’t believe it would be that easy, do you?”

“Something tells me it won’t be.”

Just as I had spoken, a man had walked up to the desk and began to thumb through the neat stacks of papers on the far end.  He glanced at us once as we stood silently outside, and once we had been recognized, Edgar nodded and ushered me back into the street.

“All right,” I said when we had started to walk away.  “If that’s the letter we need to get, it looks like we’re going to have to get it back just like Dupin did.”

“Switching it with a false one while the man is distracted?” Edgar asked.

“Exactly.”  I glanced at his arm, firmly around mine as we idly walked on.  “We can return later or even tomorrow with a fake letter hidden in your coat pocket.  Our story can be that I was very interested in that carved mug on his desk, and I can distract his attention by carrying the mug away from the desk.  While he’s distracted, you swap the letter.  We’re then free to carry on, thanking him for his time.”

“My word,” Edgar was chuckling.  “This is rather exciting! We’re living a mystery!  We’re living—my stories!”

“It’s a good thing you write such good stories or this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun!” I nudged him playfully.

He slowed a bit, and his grip loosened around my arm.  

I stopped when I noticed his facial expression fading.  “Edgar?”

The writer had paused, either lost in his thoughts or otherwise finding himself preoccupied.  He finally shook his head.  “I’m sorry.” He muttered.  “It’s just... I’ve not felt this... happy...”

I wasn’t sure how to reply, but Edgar was quick to begin shaking his head yet again and pulling me back to a walking pace.  He remained silent as we turned and started back towards the river.  I knew that meant we were officially finished sleuthing for the day.

---

Chapter 5

Edgar hung his coat on the rack by the door and walked across the room to the fireplace in silence.  I closed the door and unbuttoned my coat, but I did not remove it.  The room had grown incredibly chilly since we were there that morning.  

Once a fire was going, Edgar stepped to the small end table near the fireplace and immediately poured himself a glass of cognac.  He still hadn’t said a word, and still didn’t when he sat down in one of the chairs facing away from the fire’s growing glow.

I breathed out softly and rested my hands on the chair nearby.  I wasn’t sure how to start a conversation with the clearly disturbed man downing his cognac.  I diverted my eyes to the fireplace and tried.

“Are you all right?” I asked despite knowing the answer.

Edgar finally gave an audible sigh, setting the now-empty glass on the ground.  “I don’t know anymore.  I don’t understand.”

“This investigation?”

“No,” he said rather quickly.  “...I don’t understand why... why I feel this way...”

I swallowed uncomfortably, hoping my silence would urge him to continue his thoughts.

“I was distraught when Sissy—when Virginia died,” he finally continued softly.  “I couldn’t bear it.  She was everything to me.  It has taken me so long to move on; so long to learn to enjoy life again...  I don’t believe I have truly enjoyed myself until the day you walked back into my life...”

I looked down, still unsure of how to reply to his words.

“...But I feel so... guilty...”

“Why?”

Edgar was staring at his hands, crouched over with his elbows on his knees.  He shook his head after a moment.  “Guilty that I am happy... without her...”

“Edgar,” I stepped around the chair, though I still remained standing.  “You’re not without her.   You loved her, and she loved you—so she’s never really left you.”

His wet eyes gazed up at me.  The light from the fireplace barely caught his left eye, glimmering in the relative darkness of the room.

“And she’s so happy that you’re happy—so she’s with you even more.  I bet you can almost feel her,” I paused, smiling as I felt tears on my own eyelids.  “That’s how I like to think of people I love who aren’t with me... They’re always here...”

My hand lightly touched my chest over my heart.  Beneath my fingers was the black feather pendant that once belonged to Raven.  It had been hidden beneath my coat that day.

Its appearance distracted Edgar enough for him to sit upright a bit.  “I remember that pendant,”

I tilted my head.  “I may have worn it when I first met you.”

“You did...” he said, almost trancelike, “And Raven wore one too.  You... you remind me so much of her... she would often comfort me when I was a discouraged young writer those many years ago...”  He tried to smile, but again, his almost-happy thoughts came crashing back down.  “I have lost so much since then...”

“...Edgar,” I tried, stepping closer to him with a hand raised.

His head sunk against his chest.  His hands clenched together tightly.  I caught the briefest sob under his breath.  “I’m—I’m so sorry...” he muttered pitifully before the sobbing continued.

I stood in silence before him, again rendered helpless.  I could feel the pangs of sadness in my own chest, however.  I missed The Doctor.  I had tried to keep myself so busy—my brain so preoccupied—that I wouldn’t think about him.  I had pushed him away and left him.  Was he still looking for me?

Edgar suddenly reached out towards me and grabbed my hand before I could react.  He clutched it tightly, shaking as tears streaked down his face.

“You are a singer—please! Sing to me, Raven!”

The pitiful request pierced into my heart.  I frowned, keeping my eyes locked into his until they blinked and looked away.

“Sing to me, Gemini...”

I took a deep breath, watching his hands shakily holding mine.   I searched my mind for a song, and I gave it to him gently.

“Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I’ve written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I’ve always missed with these eyes before,
Just what the truth is, I can’t say anymore.

But I love you... Oh, how I love you...”

My hand had been released, and I clutched it close against my chest.  Edgar’s eyes remained downcast, but his shaking had ceased.

“Gazing at people, some hand in hand,
Just what I’m going through, they can’t understand.
Some try to tell me thoughts they cannot defend
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end...

But I love you... Oh, how I love you,
Oh, how I love you!”

Edgar was settled against the back of the chair, his eyes closed.  My eyes had been closed for much of the song, so I wasn’t sure if he had ever looked up at me.  I wiped a tear from my eyes and hoped he didn’t notice.

I walked slowly to the doorway that led to the bedroom.  I paused there and looked at him, but he had either fallen asleep or grown too content or distracted to notice.  I whispered good night and climbed into the darkness of my loft.

- - -

I stepped through the doorway of Beltzhoover’s Hotel as Edgar held the door open for me.  I thanked him when he rejoined me in the hotel’s lobby, and he nodded in reply.  We immediately found to the door on the right side of the lobby that we assumed lead into the room with the letter.  When a bellman met us, we asked if the man inside was taking visitors.  He agreed to check for us, noting that it was the office of the owner of the hotel.  Edgar glanced at me as the bellman stepped away.

“You are free to go inside,” the bellman returned with a smile.  “Mr. Beltzhoover would love to meet you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, and Edgar put his hand on my back as we stepped inside.

Mr. Beltzhoover was at the desk near the bay window, and he stood up as we entered.  “Ah, hello there,” he greeted, meeting Edgar with a handshake.  “With whom do I have the pleasure of being acquainted?”

“Edgar Poe,” he said, “And this is my dear friend, Gemini Gallagher.”

“Ms. Gallagher,” Mr. Beltzhoover nodded to me, and then he paused with a look of triumph in his eye.  “Were you two looking inside my window yesterday?”

I smiled; he had taken the bait without a single move on my part.  “You caught us,” I turned his suspicion into a game and passed the ball to Edgar.

“Yes,” my friend picked up seamlessly, “Gemini was quite interested in that wooden goblet you have there,”

Mr. Beltzhoover smiled proudly.  “Aha, she has very good taste...”  He stepped over to his desk, and I made sure Edgar and I were footsteps behind.  We needed to move into position without it being obvious.  Thankfully, Mr. Beltzhoover didn’t seem to have any inkling, and turned and faced us the wooden mug in his hand.  “This was carved by my grandfather.” He began.

“Could you bring it closer to the lamp?” I said, taking a step closer to the floor lamp away from the desk.  “The texture of that woodgrain has been intriguing me ever since I saw it yesterday...”

I reeled the gentleman in and complimented his grandfather on such a fine job.  I had begun a made-up story about an uncle who was proficient in woodworking just as I caught sight of Edgar delicately sliding the fake letter from his inside coat pocket.

“...But I will say, your grandfather was much more skilled than my uncle.  That bird is simply impeccable.”

“Well, it is a woodpecker!” Mr. Beltzhoover guffawed.  “Do you see the irony?  A woodpecker carved out of wood—my grandfather’s sense of humor was impeccable, I should say!”

“Indeed!” I laughed with him.

Edgar was at his side a moment later, and Mr. Beltzhoover didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t been there the entire time.  “The detail is exquisite; I dare say he carved every plume the bird could have had,” Edgar added to the conversation.

“I do so appreciate the comments,” Mr. Beltzhoover beamed gratefully.  “My grandfather would have loved to hear every word.”

“And we appreciate you being so kind as to show it to us.” I said.  “You should be proud to own such a treasure.”

The hotel owner smiled and thanked us again, and he wished us well when we prepared to make our leave.  He walked us to the door of his office, and gently closed the door behind us.  With another nod to the bellman, we left the hotel and started away.

“That worked... that honestly worked...” Edgar was muttering as we walked rather quickly down the street.

“That couldn’t have gone any smoother; Mr. Beltzhoover sure was proud of that mug.” I smiled.

“Excellent work, my dear.” Edgar slowed and turned onto a side street, stepping away from the activity of the main road.

I followed him and grew tense with anticipation as Edgar drew the letter from his inside coat pocket.  He handed it to me to unveil, and with a slide of my finger beneath the flap of the letter, I broke the wax seal that held it closed.  I then opened it up and held it for both of us to see.

“And all I loved, I loved alone.” I read.

Edgar began shaking his head, his face pale.  “How... how can this be...?”

“What is it?” I looked at him worriedly as he backed away.

“That line... the poem... I have not published it...”

I lowered my brows.  “That was the poem on your desk...”

“I have not published it!” He repeated in disbelief.

I pressed my fingers against my mouth.  I was piecing together what this meant.  My fears were beginning to come true; whoever was here—whoever the murderer was, he was a time-traveller.  The murderer knew exactly what he was doing.

“All right—well—maybe it got leaked somehow...” I tried to reason with the situation in a way Edgar would understand, “Has anyone else seen that poem?”

Edgar half shook his head and looked dazed.  “I... ah, I don’t know... it’s been so many years, I suppose someone could have come across it...”

“All right,” I drew our attention back to the letter.  “Somehow or another, we have this clue.  This is all we have, so we’ll need to look deeper into the poem you wrote.  What’s a lead we could take away from your poem...”

The writer continued to shake his head.  “I don’t know.  It’s not a poem about a place; it’s about a feeling.”

“So... where did you feel it...” I pointed to him as it hit me.  “Where did you write this poem?  ...Please say it was here in Baltimore,”

“Yes, actually,” he replied slowly.  “I was staying with my cousin across the river... on Caroline Street.”

“Then that’s where we need to go.” I said simply.

Edgar glanced at me.  “Are you positive?  The house has been long abandoned...”

I shrugged.  “This is the only lead we’ve got.”

“Then that’s where we shall go.” He submitted.  “But first, we must stop at my flat.  I have an idea...”

---

Chapter 6

“...And you need this scarf.”

I caught the scarf Edgar tossed to me, holding it in my hands with a vest.  “Edgar, I’m not sure why we need to dress up.”

“Not dressing up, dressing differently.” He said as he dug through the armoire at the back of his bedroom.  “And, this vest will certainly look different for me.  You know, most of these clothes were here when I rented this space.  They were left behind.  I had misplaced my luggage on my travels here, so it was somewhat fortuitous.”

“That may explain why it looks too big for you,” I commented.   “Now, explain why you want to dress differently.”

Edgar stepped towards me with various items of clothing in his arms.  “I know the demon will be waiting for us at this final stop.  The demon knows who we are and what we look like.  If we dress differently, it may not recognize us, and we can obtain its identity before it discovers us.”

I blinked.  “Wait, how are you sure this is the final clue?”

“I can feel it within me...” he slowed his movements.  “I can tell.  There is a darkness here... It is trying to bring me back down to my pit of despair, but I will not let it.”  He turned and looked at me with a fierce expression.  “You have taught me to be strong.  You have helped me through my harrowing thoughts.  You are right; Virginia is always here with me.  I must not let my sorrow stop me from doing great things.  I am ready to stand up to the demon and I will cast him away.”

I couldn’t help but smile lightly as his determined face shone back at me.  We both stood in silence for a moment until he nodded.  “Put the vest and that scarf on,” he turned toward his bed.  “And take my hat.”

I held still as he dropped the hat onto my head.  It was a little large, and it sunk down over my ears.  Edgar, however, smiled proudly.  “I believe it looks better on you than it does me.”

I grinned and pushed the shallow brim over my forehead as he turned away and readied his own costume.  I started out the room, but I noticed the final copy of “To G_____” on his desk beside his other—eventually published—untitled poem.  For some reason, I felt that “my” poem did not need to be among the poems Edgar published.  I needed to leave my presence in his life to be between the two of us.  While he was turned away, I softly removed the paper and left the room.

I folded the poem and placed it inside my coat pocket.  I then wrapped the green and blue woven scarf around my neck and took a deep breath.  I, too, was ready to stand up to our murderer—demon or otherwise.

- - -

We stood before the house as a rumble of thunder echoed behind us. The sun had almost set, and the streetlamp behind us was not lit.  The wind picked up, and I held Edgar’s arm tightly against its cold.  He brought his other hand and rested it against my arm for comfort.  I had caught the feeling too; this was our final showdown.

Edgar glanced at me.  The woven vest he wore was mismatched against his oversized coat; all part of his disguise that would hopefully fool the one waiting for us inside.  I tipped the hat he gave me over my forehead, taking my eyes out of the shadow of its shallow brim.  Something told me these costumes weren’t going to matter, but they made me feel a little more secure as Edgar reached his hand out to the door.

The knock seemed to be louder than anything else in our surroundings.  It was as if it echoed throughout the entire house before reaching our ears, and then it fell silent.

We waited for what seemed like years, and then Edgar turned his determined face towards me.

“I believe we must decide to face our demon.”

“Sounds like a great metaphor.  Kinda wish we weren’t currently living it.” I muttered in reply.

Edgar tightened his grip again.  “We can do it.  You are strong.”

For the first time, I nodded at that statement.  “Yes.  And so are you.”

With that, Edgar turned the doorknob and we let ourselves in.

The room was mostly empty.  Long, dusty curtains strung from the ceiling and lay in a heap on the floor on either side of us.  A bare fireplace with a cracked mirror and a few candles above it adorned the wall to our left.  Across from us, a flight of stairs reached down half-way into the room.  A lone table with a letter and another candle rested near the bottom of the staircase.  The rest lay in a thick darkness.

Edgar had noticed the letter on the table as I scanned the area with my eyes.  He released my arm to walk closer to the table, and I followed closely behind.  My fingers were gripping my sonic screwdriver, and I again pushed the hat above my forehead to keep a clear view.  

He glanced at me before he reached for the letter.  “Perhaps this is the final clue?” he said, more as a statement than a question.

I was unable to answer.  I heard the front door close and lock behind us, and my heart began to race.  Edgar’s already pale complexion seemed to grow paler as he looked past me.  I took a deep breath, grimacing, and I turned around to look myself.

A human-like figure stood as a shadow in the darkness.  Traces of candlelight cast the faintest flicker of its form upon the door.  It moved enough to prove it was not an illusion.

“Well... aren’t you clever ones... making it this far...” came a light, yet oddly composed voice.

I whipped out my sonic screwdriver and had it blaring its blue light in the figure’s direction as soon as it began to move closer.  Almost as suddenly, Edgar had stepped in front of me.

“You will stay back and not harm her, demon!” he shouted.

The figure held out its hands.  “Now let’s stay calm... your threats and sonic probe will not help you here.”

I deactivated the device, lowering my brows.  The interference was deflecting any hope of discovering the figure’s identity anyway.  Edgar glanced at me, but retained his firm stance at my side.

“I must say, you impressed me with your detective work.  I didn’t think you would be able to follow me so closely.” The figure continued.

“You messed up on that last clue,” I commented coldly. “You referenced a poem that hasn’t been published yet.”

Edgar had an accusatory finger held in the figure’s direction.  “Where did you find my poem??  How did you gain access to it??”

The figure chuckled, stepping closer to reveal an almost human face from the shadows.  “Wouldn’t a demon be able to go where he pleases?  See what he wishes?  Find those he needs?”

That voice—it held such an air of superiority—I had heard it before.  “Who are you?” I threw out, brandishing my sonic screwdriver simply to hold him back.

He raised his hands in surrender and took another step closer—finally stepping into the light.  He was human, all right; a normal human with wavy, dark hair and the face of a younger man.  “I am Reynolds, a leading operative of the organization called ORBIT: the Organization for Restoring Balance In Time.  And I already know who you are... at least now we may see each other eye to eye... and not on the opposite sides of a cliff...”

My eyes grew wide with realization; he was the man who had found me on Fortis-Novus, and he had once again tracked me down.  And before I could wonder if he again brought reinforcements, I heard the shuffling of other men taking their places around us.  I bit my lip and leaned closer to Edgar.

Reynolds smirked cunningly, much like a cat that discovered its prey was already trapped.  “So you already know that this is a matter of time,” he stressed the final word.

“...If it’s me you want, at least leave Edgar out of this.”

“No, you cannot have her!” Edgar piped in quickly.  “Whatever it is you want—you-you can’t have her!”

“Would you feel the same if you knew who she really was?  If you knew what she really was?” Reynolds continued to grin.  

I sneered back at him, the heat of anger on my neck.

Mr. Poe, however, remained firm.  “I don’t care who she is.  I don’t care what she does or where she has come from—she is a fine woman!”

“And quite an actress,” Reynolds took another sauntering step forward.  The dark jacket he wore was still pitch black even in the growing light.  “...For she has hidden her true identity in plain sight.  Gemini is a Time Lord.”  He paused for effect, waiting for some sort of outburst or glaring expression, but he thankfully got neither.  He didn’t seem the least bit upset as he continued suavely, “Your friend, here, travels through time and does what she pleases.  She intervenes during significant milestones and often changes the course of history.  Did you not wonder how she didn’t seem to age since you had seen her last?”

Edgar’s eyes had widened, but he still refused to react further.  “I still do not care.”

“So what do you want with all this?” I finally jumped in, tired of the mind game he was trying to play, “What was the point of following Edgar and haunting him like a demon, and what was the point in killing that young woman?  Was all that just to get my attention?  Because you’ve tracked me down before in a much simpler way.”

Reynolds’ thin chin bobbed as he stifled a chuckle.  “Oh my, you don’t understand this at all.  If there’s anything we learned on Fortis-Novus, it’s that the only way to capture a Time Lord is to trick her at her own game.  No matter how intricate the plan had to be, you would not have walked so willingly into our arms if we had not made it so natural for you to do so!”

I raised my hands out at my sides.  “So all this was a plot to capture me??  Using Edgar Allan Poe as your pawn and that young woman you killed as the bait??”

“I will admit the young woman was a surprise,” Reynolds stroked his chin.  “We truly thought she was you.  We found out rather quickly that she wasn’t, but it proved to work far better than our original plan...” he paused to laugh.  “A clever detective... I would have expected nothing less from your kind.”

I was seething, trying incredibly hard to keep my anger under control for fear of unleashing the Raven.  “You do realize my kind is not fully Time Lord.”

“I am fully aware.” Came his answer.

Edgar had been trying so hard to find something to say, and he finally did by nearly pushing me against the table with one strong arm and pointing a forceful hand at the dark-suited man with the other.  “I do not appreciate being played upon, and God rest the poor soul of that woman you killed—but I will not stand here while you talk of taking Gemini away!”  The volatile fury of the writer was in full force.  “Time-traveller or not, she is not yours for the taking and I will not let you have her!!”

A gun-like object was drawn from Reynolds’ side, and he held it away from his chest.  “You no longer have a role in this plot, good sir.  I will honor Gemini’s request to let you leave now without getting hurt.”

The operatives around us seemed to shift and draw in closer.  I could only assume they were armed with similar weaponry, and my still-healing arm seemed to sting just thinking about the last run-in I had with their bullets.   The once open room seemed far too claustrophobic, and I knew danger was eminent.  I put a hand on Edgar’s shoulder and said softly, “I’m sorry Edgar.  I would have told you, but I thought that would have put you in more danger than you are now... please, I’ll be all right.”

“I will not leave your side.  I have lost too much in my life; I do not intend to lose you.” Edgar glanced at me from the corner of his eye.  His voice wavered just enough to prove his statement.

I shook my head.  “I appreciate you and all the time I’ve spent with you—but it’s done.  Please, I don’t want you hurt.”

Edgar frowned, shaking his head more furiously.  “No.  No!  I will not leave you to them and their devices!”

“Your time is running out, Master Poe.”  Reynolds still held the gun in his hand.  “This particular weapon is meant for a Time Lord to temporarily neutralize all conscious thought from her brain.  We found out the hard way that it does not work the same for humans...” A toothy grin spread across his face.  “In fact, it slowly drives a human mind insane...”

I went white, losing my breath in his words.  “No—that’s how that young woman died,” I grasped at my mouth in shock as his grin remained, “You shot her and it drove her to madness—running through the forest until she collapsed and died!”

“The clever detective has solved the mystery...” Reynolds affirmed.  He then held the gun at arm’s length and pointed it at Edgar.  “Now if we want to keep my victim count on this mission at one, it’s time for Master Poe to leave.”

Edgar was scowling, his head low and his dark eyes burning a piercing glare.  “No.”

I grasped his shoulders with both hands.  “Edgar—please,” I tried.

“If you want her, you must go through me.” He remained steady and stubbornly firm in his stance.

“All right.”

The shot was fired faster than I could react.  Its beam struck Poe in the head and sent him spinning off balance and careening into the table.  I found myself shouting and diving to my knees to catch him before his head hit the floor.  He fell into my lap as we collapsed, and his hand clutched my arm tightly as he groaned and tried to move.

“You shot him!!” I screamed out of shock, rage, and grief, clutching at his arm as it continued to blindly grasp at me.  “You shot him!!”

Reynolds remained collected, glaring down his nose at me in a heap on the floor.  The gun had been lowered to his side.

“Do you even realize what you just did??” I continued, tears unabashedly streaming down my face.  “You shot Edgar Allan Poe—one of the most influential authors of all history!!  And you freaking shot him!?”

“W-hat?” Edgar moaned.

I glanced at him, biting my lip as he struggled to stay focused.

“...All... history?  Is that... true?”

I was trembling, but I shot a weakened glare at the still-unmoving Reynolds before turning my eyes back to Edgar.  “...Yes.  And it’s most certainly true in my eyes.”

Tears were welling in his already fading eyes, and I had to look away as a wave of grief shot through me.  I was about to start yelling when Edgar beat me to the punch.

“Reynolds!!” he shouted, albeit weakly.  “Reynolds, you will—will not have her!”

I held Edgar tighter and straightened up to avoid losing my composure.  “What do you want from me.” I shot coldly at my captor.

“You and your unbridled power.”

“Are you sure about that last one?”

“Perfectly.”

Edgar flailed suddenly in anguish and I held him tighter.  “...I will come with you without any trouble.  Just let me take Edgar back to his flat.  Let me get him out of here, and I will come with you.”

Reynolds’ expression and stance were unchanged.  “I will honor that request.”

I didn’t thank him.  I merely waited until the operatives shrunk back and he stepped aside to allow us access to the door.  I then turned all of my attention back to the friend fading in my arms.  I shuddered, knowing the end would be near as his eyes darted around impulsively.

“Edgar, we need to get you back,”

“No—” he was already moaning.

“No, we need to get you back to your flat.  Let’s stand up.  Come on.”

- - -

It had been the longest five blocks I had ever walked.  I was half-supporting Edgar for most of the way, and almost completely supporting him for the last block.  My wounded arm was aching from the strain, and finally, neither of us could walk any further.  Edgar slumped into the street, and I followed with my arms and legs trembling from weakness.

“Edgar?” I asked weakly.

“...Reynolds...” he scarcely muttered.

“He’s not here,” I said, propping him up against the wall as best as I could.  My arm stung but I kept my attention on the ailing Poe.  His dark eyes opened only slightly, and I was certain they were looking straight through me.

“He... can’t...”  He gasped a bit, rolling his head to one side.  “You can’t...”

“I have to.” I submitted.  “You just... need to stay strong.” I choked on my words, and I had to shut my eyes and turned away as Edgar began thrashing weakly.  This was not how I envisioned spending my final hours with him.  I was hoping to vanquish the beast and set him free to live in his restored happiness.  But now I had walked into the very act that the scholars of tomorrow would still be unable to solve.

“Found in a state of great distress in clothes that did not fit and in an unexplainable stupor...”  The calm voice of Reynolds had come up from behind me.  “How does it feel to be one of the few who know the truth behind the mysterious death of Edgar Allan Poe?”

“How does it feel to be the murderer behind it?” I hissed.

Reynolds paced into my view, but I refused to acknowledge him.  “The event happened as history has written it.  I have simply kept this recorded time in place.  Much less can be said of the work of Time Lords.”

I shut my eyes, feeling Poe again thrash against my grip.  

“And that is what ORBIT is here for; restoring the balance after the wreckage left by the Time Lords.”

“What if history recorded it wrong? What if you people didn’t exist and Poe would go on to write hundreds more stories and poems and maybe even experience more of the honor and popularity he deserved in his lifetime??”

The gun was pulled from Reynolds’ holster.  It was just low enough to catch my eye, and I knew I would be receiving no further comments on the issue.

“...So why do you need me.” I again submitted.

“Because being half-human allows us to better control your Time Lord abilities.  You and your unique DNA will become integral parts of ORBIT’s mission.”

I squinted my eyes.  “You’re making a mistake if you think you can control Rovenna.”

“My dear Gemini, that is the other reason I need you... I’ve already controlled her once.”

I opened my eyes wide, but I did not change their gaze.  I could almost feel my deepest being screaming out in anger.

“Of course, I would not have been able to put together such clues if my previous time with Rovenna had not taught me so much about Poe... your shared desire for the man and his works almost made this game far too simple...”

“Reynolds!!” Edgar suddenly sputtered blindly.

I clutched him tighter, and his heavy breathing subsided.  Only his head tilted slightly from side to side as he fought against the mental anguish building within him.  He would be strong; history recorded that he would last a few more days in a hospital before succumbing to death.  At least that made me believe he had tried to hold on...

Edgar’s head stopped moving and he closed his eyes, finally breathing slower.  I stifled a sob as I gently leaned over him.  I placed a single kiss on his forehead and squeezed his hand.

I was taken by the back of my jacket and pulled away from him.  I stumbled back to my knees, the hat again sliding down over my forehead.  I refused to look at Reynolds as he kept a firm grip on me.

“Bring him inside the tavern,” Reynolds called to one of his operatives.  “He was found inside, not outside.”

Edgar groaned softly as he was lifted from the ground and shuffled around the corner.  They blended into the crowds coming in to vote at Gunner’s Hall.  I shut my eyes and turned away.

The cold steel of the gun was pressed against my forehead, lifting the shallow brim of Edgar’s hat on my head.  My eyes opened only slightly, and I had scarcely braced myself before the trigger was pulled and a beam of light blinded my vision.  Darkness and coldness followed.

---

Chapter 7

James quietly stepped into the mostly-empty room that served as Phoenix’s den.  The humble dwelling was clearly designed for a singular occupant, but somehow it could handle himself, Vance, and Amaya staying within its walls.  James found Phoenix seated in a wooden chair beside a large window that looked out into a clearing in the woods.  Just as quietly, he walked over to him.

“Is Amaya stable again?” Phoenix asked, keeping his eyes on the family of sparrows that fluttered in the clearing.

James looked back towards the door he had come through.  “Yes, m-much better, now.  No more predictions.  Just... just sleeping, now.”

“Good.” Phoenix finally glanced back at James and motioned to another chair.  “Sit down; you need to be off your feet for once.”

James had been doing a fairly good job at hiding his exhaustion, but it was apparent in the way he sunk into the chair that he hadn’t slept much in the two days since his arrival.  He was simply too worried to settle down.  They were safe from outside threats within Phoenix’s domain, but Amaya’s condition had only grown worse before starting to improve.  He knew Vance had been in a similar state of worry when Amaya would begin thrashing or crying out.  But the winds were changing, and he was confident that the peaceful atmosphere and the soothing ointments that Phoenix offered were finally kicking in.  The oracle would finally be making her recovery, and her boyfriend, ever at her side, could also rest easier.

But even knowing they themselves were safe didn’t stop James’ mind from wondering what was happening elsewhere.  How were Gemini and The Doctor fairing?  There was so much unknown; so much that was changing.  He longed for the days when all he had to worry about was what color they would paint the molding in the Sirius Theater.  He bowed his head; he still had so much to do there.

“So much is on your mind,” Phoenix commented after the silence had grown too heavy.

James shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes.  “...There’s so much happening.”

“Worrying won’t help you; it’s only putting more strain on you.”

James let his hand drop.  “I c—can—can’t help it.”

Phoenix turned to a small table with a kettle of tea sitting on it, and he picked up his still-empty glass to offer James.  “I can’t help but wonder what your life brought you as you were growing up.  There’s an awful lot of past that seems to be hanging around you.”

James had silently accepted the cup, but his brows lowered as Phoenix spoke.  He didn’t reply.

“And my statement is more wondering why you have this strong desire to protect others; especially to protect a younger sister not related by blood.”

James took a sip of the tea, and then he lowered the cup.  “I just... care about her, and about Vance and Amaya.  I w-w—was trusted to protect them.”

“Ah, so it’s trust,” Phoenix leaned back.  “And you fear disappointing others.”

The older brother looked squarely at Phoenix, his expression unchanged.  He gazed at him for a moment before his eyes drifted aside.  “...All of m-my childhood... just... so many people swore I would amount to n-nothing.  My speech was too bad.  I was too t-timid.  I would never be a proper man with a proper family like everyone is ex-expected to be.  But I had to p-pr—prove to them wrong.  It was a struggle every day, but every day was another step.  I fell a lot—still get caught on words—but I learned to get up and... and keep going...”

In the company of his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed Phoenix had risen and was standing beside him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.  He looked up at weathered man at his side.

“Everything that’s happened; the memories you have, the pain you’ve felt, the struggles you’ve overcome... they have made you who you are—and who you will become.  Keep that in mind as you face these challenges, and you will have no need for worry.”

James turned back to the cup of tea in his hands.  The future had always seemed uncertain—and now more than ever—but he had to trust that everyone would make it.  He had to have faith that they would survive.  And he would do whatever he had to.

“But for starters, you need some rest.  Even Vance has fallen asleep by now.”

James watched as Phoenix started over to the door, picked up a small bag of seed, and took it outside.  The family of sparrows scarcely moved as Phoenix began to scatter it for them, and they happily bounced across the ground to gather it.

His eyes heavy, James finished the rest of the tea and set the cup on the windowsill.  He leaned back against the chair and let out a deep breath.  Perhaps sleep could be managed for now.

- - -

The Doctor grinned as he stood face to face with a tall crate in an alley near the Jones Falls River in Baltimore, Maryland.  He ran his fingers over the wooden surface, finding a circular indent with the faintest markings of the Seal of Rassilon within it.  Without much more hesitation, he pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and touched the indentation.

The door opened for him, as he knew it would.  My TARDIS would not be able to keep him out; it knew him too well since he had helped restore it.

He stepped inside and began to scan the control room for signs of where I might be.  However, after running below into my personal chamber and running through another chamber on the upper deck, his excited expression was quickly fading.

“Gemini?” He called, spinning around to look behind him just in case I happened to be there.

He scowled and ran up to the control panel, bringing up the history of the TARDIS’ travels.

“Fortanya to Kronon... Kronon to Fortis-Novus... Fortis-Novus to Kronon... Kronon to Baltimore...”  He typed at one of the keyboards and saw that the TARDIS had initially been set to Fortanya before the controls were overridden by Celestial Intervention Agency technologies.

“The psychic paper... she got a call for help and came here...”  He glanced behind him at the door before turning back to the control panel.  “All right, Ma’am, how long ago did we end up here...” he spoke indirectly to the TARDIS as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

United States.  Baltimore, Maryland.  Year 1849 A.D., Anno Domini, local time. Date, 30 September.

The Doctor frowned.  “...That was four days ago.  And Gemini has not been back since?”  He typed away and found that the TARDIS had been unlocked briefly on the morning of 1 October.  The TARDIS had remained idle and locked ever since.  “All right, then,” The Doctor said matter-of-factly, “Let’s locate the position of your key so we can find our Gemini.”

Location unknown.

The Doctor’s face dimmed.  “Unknown?  What do you mean??  Find the key!” He pressed on the keyboard more firmly.

Location unknown.

“It can’t be unknown!  She’s got to be here in Baltimore at this time!  And if she wasn’t you’d be able to find her!  Come on, now!!”

But the TARDIS was unable to locate the Seal of Rassilon key pendant that served as the key.  The Doctor shut his eyes tightly and slumped over the control panel.  As if his breath had been taken from him, he continued slumping until he was seated on the floor with his head in his hands.

“...This... this can’t be happening... Oh, Gemini...”

A series of knocks came to the door.  The Doctor nearly felt both of his hearts stop before he scrambled to his feet.  He threw himself at the doorway and pulled it towards him to open it.  He froze immediately.

A girl stood in the doorway, her hands held together with a vortex manipulator strapped on her left wrist.  Black boots came up to her calves, and the sleeves of her white tunic were cut at the shoulder.  Her short hair was dark brown and flopped over one side of her face.  Her green eyes were smiling as much as her lips.

“Hello, Doctor.” She said simply, a hint of an accent on her youthful voice.

The Doctor didn’t move.  “...Who are you?”

“You can call me Diana.  I’m an ally.  Can’t quite say much else for now.”

The Doctor blinked.  What was it about this girl... what was it that held him so still, so confused, and yet so inexplicably happy?

“So, can I come in, then?” Diana put her hands on her hips.  “I need to help you find Gemini.”

The Doctor immediately straightened up.  “Gem—you know where Gemini is??”  He paused.  “You know who Gemini is?”

“Come now, Doctor, one can’t very well know you without knowing her.  And I’m not the only one who knows you’ve got to get back to her...” A clever grin spread across her face.  

The Doctor wavered on his feet.  He breathed a sort of laugh as his lips tried to smile, but he couldn’t quite figure out what he should be feeling at this moment.   But if Diana knew how to find me, he could do nothing more but trust her.  

“We’ll hop into my TARDIS, just next door.” He said, gesturing outside.

She stepped back and gestured toward his TARDIS beside them, grinning at him with a sense of pride.

The Doctor found a smile on his own lips.  “Let’s go!”  

They hurried into his TARDIS and stood at his control panel.  The young woman informed The Doctor that they would need to make a quick stop before they could go after me.  She then flipped open her vortex manipulator and pressed a few buttons.  “We need to go to a place called The Tallelands; in the countryside of a place called Spades...”

“Phoenix?” The Doctor piped in.

Diana glanced up as The Doctor smirked.  “...Yes and no.  We’re picking up James, Vance, and Amaya.”

The Doctor smiled.  “Well done, James,” he said to himself.  “That’s a safe place indeed.”

“October 18, in the year 511 D.R.,” she concluded.

The Time Lord was already plugging in the location and he turned to her as soon as he had it set.  “Right.  We’re ready when you are.”

“Onward!” the young woman grinned.  She laughed as The Doctor exuberantly threw a lever and started up the TARDIS.  It was obvious he was showing off, and her expression proved that she thought it was rather cute.  A blip from her manipulator, however, and her attention was occupied elsewhere.

“Ian?” she spoke softly into the device.

“Di, are you all right?”

“Perfectly.  I’ve got The Doctor; we’re picking up the others now.  I’ll let you know when we move into position.”

“Great, we’re standing by.”

“Thanks.” She gave a smile.

“What was that?” The Doctor asked, one hand resting on the control panel as the whooshing of the mechanics around him slowed.

“Reinforcements.” She said simply, closing the device and looking up at The Doctor.  “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

He made a face.  “...Where is Gemini?”

Diana turned aside.  “She’s currently a prisoner on a space station near Earth—in a year far beyond that which we came from.  It’s the headquarters for a group of humans who think they know time better than anyone else, so they go through great lengths to keep it the way they think it should be... they’re called ORBIT: the Organization for Restoring Balance In Time.”

The Doctor was already shaking his head before she had finished her statement.  “No... I’ve heard of them... And though I don’t want to believe her, the Time Lord Hydra spoke of them...”

“I can bet whatever she said about them is true,” the girl said, turning her head back to The Doctor.  “They are bad news to Time Lords—and especially for Gemini.  One of the main operatives has a history with the Time Lord who merged with her—Rovenna, I think—and they want to ‘fix’ her and let all that power out, thinking they can control it better since the ‘vessel’ is part human.  They’re going to break her down until they get to Rovenna...”

“And according to Hydra, they’ve already broken Rovenna down before...” The Doctor winced, a pang of worry immediately rushing through him.  “No... no, they can’t do that to her...”  The gravity of the situation hit him with full force.  There were people who were plotting to ‘fix’ me, and the last time he saw me, I was in fairly poor condition to start with.  He shut his eyes painfully.

“Gemini, I hope you’re being strong.” He muttered softly, leaning against the control panel to remain steady, “I can’t lose you—I—I’d be lost without you... please... Don’t give up...” He grit his teeth.

Diana was looking on at The Doctor with a similar pain in her eyes.  After a moment, she stepped closer to him and took his hand.

The Doctor squeezed her hand, but a moment later, he had straightened up and was looking upon her almost accusingly. “Diana, how do you know about all this?  Because it’s awfully peculiar that you seem so knowledgeable about all this Time Lord business when you don’t seem to be one yourself...” He paused.  “...Or are you??” he almost whispered the words.

The young woman’s expression showed a fair amount of apprehension, but she remained steady.  “...Can’t say yet.”

“So you are!” He immediately grabbed her other hand, though she had attempted to back away from him.  “You would have denied it if you weren’t!”

“I could still deny it!” She said, awkwardly held in his grasp.

He released her and stepped back; but seconds later, he had pulled sonic screwdriver from his pocket and had it pointed at her.

She had one pointed at him just as quickly, blaring a blue light and using it as an interference tactic.

“Ha!  You have a sonic—you’re a Time Lord!” He held his arms in various positions in an attempt to get around the interference.

“I have friends who aren’t Time Lords and they have sonics!”  She mimicked his movements.

“But you yourself are a Time Lord!”

“I never said that!”

The Doctor put away his sonic with a wide smile.  “You didn’t have to say it.”

The young woman let her hand drop.  “What do you mean?”

“I felt it when I held your hands.  A double pulse.”  He smiled when the young Time Lord’s lips pouted in frustration.  “I can’t see why you’re so upset about me knowing.  I’m ecstatic, actually.  Time Lords are so few and far between... and here, you’re one I never knew existed.  Though you do seem familiar...”

The girl still remained silent as she crossed her arms and looked toward the door.  “Let’s get the others so we can get moving again.” She finally said, walking away from him.

The Doctor nodded calmly.  “Right,” he said, and he quietly followed her to the door.

---

Chapter 8

I had given up holding my defenses.  I was too close to the brink to fight back.  If I unleashed the monster now, I would be too weak overcome her strength.  They had worn me down, but I would not give them what they so desperately wanted.  I only had to hope they would eventually grow tired of poking, prodding, and beating a defenseless and unmoving young woman.

I was thrown again against the cold, brushed-metal ground of the holding cell.  My head slid into a splattering of blood, further smearing it across my cheek.  I was pretty sure the brow above my right eye was heavily bruised by now, but I would not move.  I remained on the ground with my eyes half-open.  Without my glasses I couldn't see them anyway.

“Reynolds, this isn’t working.” The man looming over me complained.  “She’s not even fighting back.”

There was silence, presumably as Reynolds scowled at my half-broken form on the ground.  "You may leave," Reynolds finally said, and the scuffling of his minion's feet started out the cell.  Two more feet took their place, however, and the side of a boot slid around my head to push it upright.  I squinted as the light behind the blurred form of Reynolds stung my eyes.

“You’re proving to be much harder to wear down.”  He said simply.

I didn’t reply.  My eyes had drifted to the ceiling as I took a deep breath.

“This would be much easier if you would simply give up control.”

“I’ve worked too hard to keep control,” I finally said, barely audible.

“Why?  Doesn’t that immense power excite you?” Reynolds said with a sneer.

I shut my eyes.  “No.  It scares me.  It threatens me.  I have too much to lose...”

The man ‘hmph’ed.  “Can you hear her?”  He paused when I didn’t answer.   “Can you hear Rovenna’s voice in your head?”

“No.”

Reynolds was standing over me; I could tell from the shadow that blocked the light from my still-closed eyes.  “You’re lying.” he almost hissed.

“I’ve worked too hard to keep her out.” My eyes opened.  “I can no longer hear her.”

His shoe made contact with my arm, and I winced as the old wound was torn again.  I was struck again by the back of his hand and later shoved further away into the wall.

I gasped another breath, tasting blood in my mouth.  “...How does it feel to be losing?”

“I’m not losing.” Reynolds had returned to his usual calm demeanor.  “I’m simply going to use a new tactic.”  He turned away and started out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.  I listened to his footsteps until they faded out of earshot.

I finally moved on my own, turning to look behind me at the steel bars lining the once-sterile holding cell I had been brought to.  Though I had no memory between being shot in Baltimore and waking up in the cell, it was obvious that no control had been lost.  Rovenna had remained silent in my weakness, and I had the singular benefit that Rovenna may not want to give in to them either.

It was slowly beginning to make sense in my weary mind.  Rovenna hiding out in Baltimore—and taking the name Raven—had to have something to do with all of this.  I had always assumed Rovenna had been hiding from Hydra, but I was getting the feeling that ORBIT had been the true cause.  Her choice to merge with my consciousness as a meta-crisis could have been a further device to escape their grasp.  I shook my head.  Now I was the lucky one to pay the price.

I scooted my legs closer and managed to sit up.  At once, a rush of dizziness filled my head, and I had to fight against the desire to collapse back to the blood-smeared ground.  I mustered my strength and crawled forward, limping on my wounded arm.  My jacket, scarf, hat, and glasses had been scattered into the corner of the cell, and I managed to reach them.  I slipped my glasses on and noticed the folded paper of the poem Edgar had written, barely visible in the pocket of my jacket.  Beneath it was The Doctor’s psychic paper.  I reached for it and held it shakily in my hands.

Don’t give up.

My breath was taken away for a split second as the words appeared.

Don’t let them fix you.  I love you.

Tears ran down my cheek, mixing with the blood that stained them.  I could feel his love, and it was enough to keep me holding on.  In my weakness I leaned against the steel bars, but I clutched The Doctor’s note tightly in my hands.  This was precisely why I would never relinquish control: I could not bear to lose my love.

- - -

“Ian?”

“Here—are you ready?”

“We’re in position.” Diana spoke into her vortex manipulator.  “We can’t take everyone; we have one recovering and one who won’t leave her side.”

“Who are we left with?”

“The Doctor, James, and me.”

The three were standing in the open doorway of the TARDIS, looking out into the starfield of space.  While Diana waited for Ian’s voice to return through the static, The Doctor and James glanced at each other silently.  Vance stood behind them in the hallway, not wanting to stray any farther from the room Amaya was resting in.  After their relocation to The Doctor’s TARDIS, Amaya had finally woken up for a few moments.  To the relief of everyone on board, she consciously smiled at Vance and managed to speak a gentle ‘thank you’ before slipping back into sleep.  Vance wanted to be certain he would be at her side when she awoke again.

“All right.  I’ve got the others here, and we’re ready when you are.” Ian’s voice finally came.

“Begin phase one.” Diana said.

“Done.  Good luck, Di.”

“You too,” She shut her eyes and closed the link on her manipulator.  

The Earth had slowly dipped into view as the TARDIS hovered before it.  Also largely in view was the massive space station where ORBIT’s headquarters called home.   And somewhere on board was the captured metacrisis called Gemini.

“Ready?” Diana’s green eyes opened moments later.

“Lead the way.” The Doctor said.  “And stop me if I start smashing too many faces...”

Diana smirked.  “We just have to wait for Ian’s signal—with Nick to cover him, he will temporarily shut down their defense systems to make it easier for us to get through to find Gemini.” Diana said, her eyes focused on the space station.  “Nick’s also very good at smashing faces.”

“H-he’ll be in good company,” James said, his fist already clenched.  If they had laid a hand on his little sister, he would be more than willing to assist in the smashing.

They waited for what felt like an eternity; staring at the space station with bottled up anger, fear, and anticipation.  Even Diana had a similar look of determined concern, a look that The Doctor found curiously familiar.  

A brilliant light suddenly burst through one of the windows of the station.  The smirk on Diana’s face pulled to a very determined smile.  “There’s our signal... let’s go!”

She grabbed The Doctor’s hand as he grabbed James’, and with a single push of a manipulator’s button, the three were sent aboard ORBIT’s headquarters.

- - -

I roused from a state of almost-sleep to the sound of voices behind me.  I didn’t open my eyes and didn’t move, but when I focused on their voices, I could hear what they were saying.  One was Reynolds, but the other was foreign.

“The power is all there,” the deep voice spoke.

“I know, but she will not release it,” replied Reynolds.

“She will.  She will never be able to outlast it.  The longer it waits, the stronger it will become.  Almost every other metacrisis known to us has failed in a matter of hours; it’s only a matter of time for this one, and she will fail too.” He paused a moment, clearing his throat.  “Of all the Time Lords that have existed, I’m still confused as to why you chose this half-ling.”

“You do remember which Time Lord merged with her, don’t you, Bishop?”

Bishop huffed.  “I can’t quite forget the name Rovenna with you around.”

There was a pause in the conversation, or perhaps I lost my focus for a moment.  I managed to open one eye the slightest bit to try and catch a glimpse of Bishop, but I couldn’t see his face without raising my head.

“I just hope you know what you are doing here.”

“I do, Sir.  I have a plan; we’ll have her power under our control soon.  Then we can begin tracking down and capturing the others.”

My eyes instinctively flew open, but I quickly shut them back and pretended to be shifting slightly in my sleep.  The conversation had grown quiet, and I begin to fear that they knew I wasn’t really sleeping.

A loud clap like a bolt of lightning suddenly resonated through the hallway, and the door at the other end clattered loudly to the floor.

I jolted upright from the sound, and I slid back from the bars as Reynolds and Bishop gazed down the hall.  I barely had a chance to look at Bishop’s face when a new figure came into view.

A young man with shoulder-length black hair stood a few feet from the bars of my holding cell.  He gripped a long, golden staff with a sonic probe on one end, and he smirked as the device began to power back up.

“How—you are—how did you—” Reynolds tried to form a coherent thought.  “The alarms are not sounding!!”

Bishop stepped back and immediately had a gun drawn at the young man.  “If you make another move—”

A burst of red energy shot towards him and knocked the gun from his hands—while also knocking him into the bars and onto the floor.

“I’d back away from the lady if I were you.” The staff-wielder grinned at Reynolds.

Bishop groaned as he tried to get to his feet.  When he realized gun had clattered into the cell with me, his eyes shifted to mine.  They were cold and dark, and I shuddered as they pierced into me.  My eyes turned away and glanced at the gun, and then I looked back at him.  His eyes narrowed.

The young man turned to the wall behind him and blasted a shot through it with his sonic staff.  Workers who had been standing in the other room quickly scattered, screaming as debris were strewn across the room.  He then pointed the staff back at Reynolds and Bishop.  “Another option—leave through this brand-new door I made just for you to get the hell out of here.”

Someone ran past the hole on the other side of the wall and skidded to a stop.  His light blond hair was almost white, even in the flickering light above his head.  A long purple scarf was looped around his neck and he stood in an awkward stance as he met the staff-wielder’s eyes.

“Ian, signal the others—systems are down and I’ve found Gemini.” The dark-haired young man called to him, “Hurry!”

Ian barely nodded before he took off, and Reynolds cursed and ran into the hallway after him.  Bishop slowly rose to his feet, and he raised his hands in surrender as he stood.

“Not so tough without your gun, huh?” He growled, lowering the staff.  “Get out of here and get off this space station and maybe you won’t get killed...”

A burst of light pulsed through the hole in the wall, and I had to shield my eyes from its intensity.  Bishop sputtered a similar curse and leapt through the hole.  With the threats temporarily gone, the young man lowered his guard and stepped up to my cell.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you in here, Miss,” he said, tapping his sonic staff on the bars.  A red spark ran through them, they released and fell to the floor.  “But the others’ll sure be happy.”

“...Who are you?” I asked in a breathless whisper.

“Nick.” He said simply, kneeling down beside me.  “Now let’s get you out of here.”

---

Chapter 9

“Where is she??” The Doctor bellowed, whipping his sonic screwdriver into the face of a very frightened and confused ORBIT operative.  “You had better tell me where Gemini is or I’ll—”

“Doctor—calm,” Diana pulled his arm away as the woman took off in the opposite direction.  “ORBIT technology scrambles all readings from sonic probes, and yelling at the worker bees accomplishes nothing!”

A shot was suddenly fired and blasted out a utility light bolted to the ceiling a few feet in front of them.  James had the wrist of the same operative who was now holding a gun, and he was attempting to wrestle it away.  

“The worker bees still have stingers!” The Doctor shot back at Diana.

The scuffle slid around a corner when James finally ran the woman into the wall and took the gun. He whipped around and fired it at the ground when someone else tried storming them, and frightened the woman back into submission when he pointed the gun back at her.  When James turned back to the man, he held up his own hands.

“Where are they h-holding Gemini?” James asked sternly.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man sputtered, his hands—one still gripping a gun—waving in the air.

“Where are they holding the Metacrisis??” James aimed the gun.

“The holding cells on the lower level—they brought her there last night!” the man finally spilled.

James lowered the gun and looked to his side The Doctor and Diana.

They both stared at him, flabbergasted.  “...Good job,” The Doctor finally said warily.

Diana glanced out the corner of her eye and suddenly threw her hands out.  “Look out!!”

The man had lowered his hands and fired a shot at James.  The bullet spiraled through the air and struck a swath of light that suddenly formed in front of James like a shield.

Everyone’s eyes turned to newest arrival to the scene.  Standing in the bend of the hallway they had just left, the blond-haired man with a long purple scarf lowered his hand.  The light in front of James disappeared and he let out short breath.

Diana’s expression warmed to a smile.  “Ian,” she said softly.

Footsteps barreling down the hall soon revealed Reynolds, and Ian quickly turned back to face him.  When Reynolds saw the group assembled before him, his brows lowered in anger.

“So—you brought the cavalry with you!” he growled, quickly eyeing the other operative.  “What are you doing—shoot them!!”

Ian twisted just enough to look behind him and extended a hand towards the gun-wielding operative.  Light seemed to appear out of nowhere, growing in intensity as it left Ian’s hand, and it swiftly knocked the gun to the ground.  James slid to his knees and grabbed it, quickly pointing both guns at the man’s raised hands.

Reynolds also attempted pulling out his gun, but Ian again knocked it from his reach in a burst of light.  The Doctor was astounded; the young man held no weapons or items in his hands.  The energy was simply pulsing out of thin air.  Roaring, Reynolds lunged at Ian, but the thin young man dodged his move and looped his long scarf around Reynolds’ neck.  He quickly had the man pinned to the ground and gasping for air.

“Nick’s found Gemini,” Ian said as he struggled against Reynolds’ threats to free himself, “Run back this way and make sure he’s still got her.  I’ll cover you.”

At once, sirens began to wail through the hallway.  Reynolds grinned and spit his words through the scarf.  “Looks like General Bishop has reset the alarms.  Good luck making it off this ship now!!”

“Run!!” Diana cried, taking off past Ian.

James threw one of the guns to The Doctor and remained in place with a faint nod.  The Doctor understood his silent orders and started after Diana alone.

The two were met with even more offense as the alarm signaled all of the operatives to diverge on the intruders.  Diana was quick to disarm anyone who got close to her with well-timed punches and kicks, and The Doctor began flinging the gun in his hand like it was simply a blunt weapon.

“So it’s true: The Doctor never uses a gun,” Diana commented breathlessly after kicking an operative in the stomach and shoving him to the floor.

“Only when necessary,” The Doctor grunted his words as he clocked someone’s head with the butt of the gun.  “I promised to smash faces, however.”  He glanced at Diana as she pushed past him with her sonic screwdriver to unlock a sealed door.  “What sort of power does Ian have?”

Diana chewed on her lip as the screwdriver began to light up the control panel.  “The power of light,” she said simply, sighing with relief as the door’s lock clanked open.  “The power of The Sentinel.”

The Doctor’s eyes grew wide.  “The Sentinel??” he exclaimed.  “Ian is—”

“This isn’t the best time, Doctor!” Diana winced as she began pulling open the door.  

The Doctor was at her side moments later to help her.  “Oh, sure, leave me hanging on that cliff, why don’t you!”

Diana rolled her eyes as she pushed through the door.  “Come on!!”

They ran into the corridor and saw a blown-out hole at the end.  Stepping through it was a muscular young man with shoulder-length black hair.  A long sonic staff was strapped to his back, and in his arms was a half-conscious metacrisis.

“Nick!” Diana called.

The Doctor nearly collapsed before racing forward.  “Gemini!!” He cried.

I looked up from the arms of my savior and could see The Doctor’s form racing towards us.  I breathed out and formed a smile on my broken lips.

“The Doctor has arrived,” Nick said, meeting a very relieved glance from Diana.

But from another corridor, a large man stepped between us, stopping Nick, Diana, and The Doctor in their tracks.  “Thanks for running me off; I took that time to restore my ship’s alarm system,” Bishop mentioned to Nick.  “You might be able to outwit Reynolds, but you cannot do the same for me.”

The Doctor’s eyes were shooting daggers as the man turned to look at him.

“I’m impressed; even The Doctor is here.  After all my years of tracking you, I’ve finally crossed your path on my own ship.  Nine-hundred years is a long time to meddle in the affairs of the universe; you’ve caused quite a bit of damage in that time.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” The Doctor hissed.

“Have you?  Are you so far removed from the Time War that you’ve forgotten you were the one who almost made your race extinct?”

“I’m not here to discuss politics with you!” The elder Time Lord clenched his fist.

“I know.  You’re here for Gemini.  But when ORBIT’s goal is to capture every remaining Time Lord, I can’t just let her go... nor can I let you or these two mixed-breeds leave this ship...”

The Doctor glanced between Nick and Diana.  “...They’re only children; don’t punish them for simply being of a dying race!”

“I’m not punishing anyone because of the Time War; in fact, I wish you had destroyed every last Time Lord.  It would have made our job much easier.” Bishop sneered, his fingers reaching to his side, “I’m simply collecting anyone who remains to keep them from causing further damage.”  He raised an oddly-shaped gun—a gun I quickly recognized—and pointed it at The Doctor.  “The time has finally come.  The Bringer of Darkness, The Oncoming Storm... The Doctor... here in my grasp...”

“No—” I started crying out.

But the shot had been fired.  The Doctor had managed to duck out of the way of the beam, but when he spun around to make sure Diana was all right, Bishop’s second shot struck him in the back of the head.  He wobbled for a moment on his feet, then his eyes rolled closed and he collapsed to the floor.

“Doctor!!” Diana cried, stumbling to her knees.

Nick nearly dropped me as he darted forward at Bishop.  He swung his sonic staff forward, deflecting another shot from the general’s gun, and with another swing he tried to clock Bishop in the head.  The general, however, caught it with his hands and sneered.

A gunshot rang out, and Bishop’s body stiffened in pain.  He did not cry out, but he glanced at Diana as she held the gun that The Doctor had been using.  He then looked down with clenched teeth at the hole blown through his boot.  She had shot him in the foot.

Nick used this opportunity to regain control of his sonic staff, and he was quick to finish the deed with one swing to the head.

As soon as General Bishop lay unconscious on the floor, Nick returned the staff to his back and ran to me.  “How serious is he, Di?” he called to Diana, who was hunched over The Doctor worriedly.

“He’s just stunned,” I said weakly.  “They used that same gun on me.  It temporarily shuts down a Time Lord’s consciousness...”

Diana tensed up when she heard footsteps coming, but she relaxed when she Ian and James entering the corridor.  “He’s okay, but he’s unconscious,” she said before either of them could react fearfully at the sight of The Doctor collapsed on the floor.

“Do you have Gemini?” Ian asked, although his answer was given when James sprinted across the corridor to Nick and recovered me from his arms.

I could only wrap one arm around him, but I closed my eyes and held him as best as I could.  Neither of us needed to say anything, even when he brought a hand to my face and cringed when he noticed how bruised I was.

Nick watched the scene curiously.  “We’ll get her cleaned up when we’re back at Base.  And speaking of, I’ve got these two,” Nick pointed to James and I with his thumb; a vortex manipulator on his wrist.

“I’ll take Ian and The Doctor.” Diana said, gritting her teeth when she heard more footsteps headed closer.  She looped her arm around Ian’s and place a hand on The Doctor’s chest.

“Go!!” Nick cried, activating the device and grasping James by the shoulder.  In a flash, all six of us were transported into safety.

---

Chapter 10

I blinked awake just as an older man was turning from my bedside.  His hair was short but frayed around the edges, and it was a darker shade of gray.   He didn’t turn back for me to get a better look at his face, but he nodded to the young man who entered the room before he quietly left.

“Hey, you’re awake!” he said with a grin.  “Good morning—well, afternoon, or... just... good day!”

“Hi,” I replied, rubbing my head.  I still felt sore and achy, but I already felt much better than I had felt the night before.  When we arrived at their base, I had been briefly introduced to Diana, Nick, and Ian before I gratefully passed out on the bed.  They had taken care of me, however, and my fingers touched bandage that covered the wound over my left eye.  “Who was that?”

“The Sentinel,” he said simply.  “And my name’s Amadeus since you’re probably wondering that too.”

I cracked a smile.  “Good guess.”

The young man had chestnut brown hair that was pulled back into a loose ponytail.  His face looked familiar, but I also couldn’t see him as well without my glasses.  I could tell his eyes were a very light sky blue, regardless.

“How are you feeling?  The others have been wondering.” He asked, a youthful exuberance to his voice.

“I’m feeling a lot better, thank you.  How’s The Doctor?”

He grinned warmly at my question.  “He’s been up and about since this morning.  He woke up swinging, though; apparently he didn’t realize how long he was out.  He immediately asked about you, too.”

“I miss him.” I found the words on my lips before I could stop them.  I looked up at Amadeus with a flushed expression, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I know.  He misses you.  I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other.  Want to go see him?”

I slid my feet to the edge of the bed and attempted to sit up, and Amadeus was quick to help me.  He held me steady as I stood, and I noticed he was a little shorter than I was—although as young as he looked, he may not have been finished growing yet.  He was incredibly cordial, however old he was, and he handed me my glasses with a cheerful grin.

I took the opportunity to gaze around the room; a small, warm enclosure with cream-colored walls and a torn curtain as a door.  It was furnished very sparsely, with only a bed and a small table resting on the floor.  When my eyes fell back upon my newfound friend, he raised his eyebrows.

“Do I still look familiar?”

I was about to laugh but I stopped.  “How...”

“Sorry, I have this thing,” He stepped away from me.  “When I touch people I can sometimes hear their thoughts.”

I tilted my head.  “Wow, that’s... how much did you hear?”

“Oh, not much, and I’ve already forgotten whatever it was I heard.”  He smiled sheepishly.  “I’ve been working on it, but I still can’t remember these things too long.”

“My friend is the same way, only she makes predictions,” I paused, glancing past the odd expression that had come over Amadeus.  “Is Amaya here?”

The odd, almost embarrassed grin was still on the young man’s face.  “Yeah.  Once The Doctor woke up they went and got her and Vance.  She’s still mostly out of it, but she’s recovering too.”

I frowned.  “What happened to her?”  I pressed my lips together.  “I feel like I’ve missed so much...”

“We’ll catch you back up.  Come on.”

I took his arm and he led me out of the small room.  There were a number of small rooms that branched off from the hallway, and in one I caught a glimpse of the man Amadeus referred to as The Sentinel.  He again was turned away from me, sipping a glass of tea.  I would have stopped to see him if Amadeus hadn’t led me further.

We entered the main room, which had a much higher ceiling than the network of rooms we had come from.  The furnishings were meager, but included enough chairs to seat a small battalion comfortably.  And with the weapons and armaments placed against the walls, it could have been a battalion.

There were faces I recognized, like Diana and Ian, but when my eyes fell upon The Doctor, I stopped short.  The story he was telling came to an immediate halt.  He stood up, dropping the glass of tea from his lap, and he nearly leapt over the wooden table in front of him.

I broke from Amadeus’ grasp and dove into The Doctor’s arms.  We both whimpered some sort of relieved exclamation into each other’s shoulders, and I could feel tears streaming from my eyes as I went limp in his grasp.

“I’m so sorry!” I managed to say. “I shouldn’t have run away; I’m so sorry!”

His hand came behind my head and held me against his chest.  His hearts were pounding.  “Don’t you even—I’m sorry I couldn’t have stopped them from hurting you so much!”

“I missed you,” I cried, speaking into his chest.  “And I love you, too,”

“I love you more than anything—more than the entire universe!”

I finally pulled away to look at him, and he gently rubbed my cheek with his hand.  His loving smile beamed down on me, tears in his own beautiful green eyes.  “There’s so much I have to tell you,” I said softly.

“So do I—later—” He could barely finish the word before his lips met mine.  

It was only after a long kiss did I remember we were not alone.  Slightly embarrassed, I looked over his shoulder to see Amadeus, James, Vance, Diana, Nick, and Ian looking on—or at least trying to pretend they weren’t looking on.  I pressed my lips together and turned back to The Doctor.  It was apparent he didn’t care that we had an audience when he kissed me again.

“Sorry,” he then flatly apologized, turning us back to face the others.  I leaned my head against him and took a very thankful breath.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Ian said, trying to bring about a conversation.

Thankfully, Amadeus was prepared.  “You were in terrible shape when they brought you in; what did they do??” He had just sat down, but had scooted to the edge of the chair anxiously when he began to speak.

“They tortured her,” Diana frowned.  “ORBIT wants nothing more but to unleash Rovenna.  They think they can harness her power since they had her on their side before, but there are reasons she went into hiding after the incidents.”

“How much do you all know about all this?” I asked cautiously.

The three newcomers glanced between themselves.  “Enough to know what we have to do.” Nick took over the conversation.  

“The general back at the space station claimed that he wants to capture all remaining Time Lords; I’m assuming that’s how you three got involved?” The Doctor asked.

“Ian isn’t a Time Lord,” Nick was quick to say.  The blond glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

Amadeus raised his hand.  “I’m not, either!”

“But to answer your question,” Diana continued, slightly piqued, “Yes, we have a stake in this as much as you do.  If ORBIT has their way, they will capture all of us and kill us—if they don’t see a need to use our skills to help them ‘fix time’ first.”

“But now this one’s a Sentinel?” The Doctor pointed at Ian.

“That’s what Amadeus called the man in the other room,” I added, pointing behind me.

“You saw him??” Diana was on her feet.

“Easy, Di, he was leaving her room when she got up.” Amadeus tapped her arm.

“What’s a Sentinel?” James glanced at The Doctor.

“Amaya kept talking about a Sentinel when she was having her visions,” Vance added quietly.

And then there was a very awkward silence as everyone glanced at everyone else warily.  I was already aware I had missed what had happened to Amaya, but all this talk of Sentinels and Time Lords under attack was really making me feel left out.  At least I wasn’t completely alone in my confusion.

“Ooh, I think someone’s coming!” Amadeus said suddenly.

At once, the flickering of a time-jump from a vortex manipulator came into view, and I was stunned to see Hydra standing before me.  Beside her was a muscular young man with blue-streaked hair and sea-blue eyes.

“Hydra!!” The Doctor cried, immediately pulling me away from her.  Vance and James were on their feet and on high alert, shocked and outraged at the sight of the renegade Time Lord and her companion.

“What the hell!?  What is this—you!” Hydra spun around and pointed at Nick with anger in her eyes.  “You told us to come here!!”

“You listened!” Nick shrugged exaggeratedly.

“You’re supposed to be here,” Ian jumped in, stepping closer to be between them.  “This includes you and Mano just as much as it includes them,”

The Doctor and I glanced at each other as Ian referred to us.  I then locked eyes with Hydra, and for the first time, the two of us were too shaken to be angry.

Hydra leaned against Mano and turned back to Ian.  “All right, then, go on.  Why do we all have to be here?”

“Because the entire universe could be at stake.”

Everyone turned to glance at the hallway, and The Sentinel stood quietly at its edge.  The cloak hood was pulled over his head, making it impossible to make out his facial features.  His voice was older, yet seemed warm and familiar.

“It’s not just the Time Lords who are at risk; if ORBIT captures and destroys them, the balance of the universe will be lost.  They don’t understand that... that destroying every Time Lord could truly alter all of space and time.”

“ORBIT??” Hydra exclaimed.  She then let out a deep breath, a look of concern to her eyes.  “All right, I get it...”

“If we want any chance against them, we have to work together.” Ian added, glancing at The Sentinel.

“As much as we may not want to,” Hydra glanced at me.

I eyed her.  “...Really? The entire universe could be at stake and you’re still doing this?”

“You’re really asking me that question?”

“I’m not Rovenna.” I sneered.

“It’s sure hard not to see her.”

I pushed away from The Doctor.  “You don’t understand what I’ve been through thanks to her!!” I yelled, finally reaching the breaking point with the Snake.  “I worked so hard to block her out—and they’ve tortured me and killed people to get me to break!  You have no idea how hard it is to live every day fighting against her so I’m not forced to forget everyone I’ve ever loved!!”

The Doctor grabbed my arm and pulled me back.  I glanced back at him, and his face had grown solemn.  

“...Cain told me.  You could have told me.  It’s given me the best reason to stay strong... so I don’t lose you.” I breathed softly.  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Hydra had finally turned away.  Mano gently put his arm around her shoulders.

The Doctor bit his lip and leaned his head on mine. “Sentinel,” he said, directing his words to the cloaked figure without turning his head.  “It is rare to find you, and even rarer to find two.  How is it you and this young man are both called Sentinels?”

“He is my protégé.” The man said simply.  “It is not uncommon for a Sentinel to train his s... successor.”

Almost everyone had nonchalantly turned their attention to Ian.  The young man looked uncomfortable, but he stood firm.  James, however, was looking through squinted eyes at the older Sentinel, noticing something that no one else seemed to notice.

“Ian, lead them.  We must begin.” The Sentinel concluded, turning back into the hallway and out of sight.

It was then all eyes turned back to the blond-haired young man in the purple scarf.  He never seemed to me to be a terribly strong or outgoing person, but when he stood before our disjointed group, I could feel his strength.

“ORBIT captured Gemini.  Many of us executed her rescue.  But with this move, we have started the battle.”

“...Battle?” Vance stiffened.

“The Time Lords against ORBIT.” Amadeus explained, “And by that I mean Time Lords and their companions and allies against General Bishop, Lieutenant General Reynolds, and all the stupid idiots of ORBIT.”

Ian nodded slightly and continued.  “ORBIT created the spark, but our actions have fanned the flames. We can no longer ignore the fire—the time has come to be alert and on our defenses.”  He glanced aside, meeting Diana’s eyes.  “We were told that this would happen—that this time would come. We knew going into this that ORBIT would see our actions as an act of war.  We must trust that together, we can finish it.  Together, we will end what ORBIT has begun.”

“How did you know all this would happen?” Hydra piped in.

“The Sentinel had seen much of this play out without us.  That is why he has worked hard to gather us together.  His words, along with visions from the Oracles, have brought us to the edge of this war.” Ian spoke.

“Oracles—plural?” I turned to Amadeus.

“The pillars stand together to hold strong on shifting foundation. Without one, the rest will fall.” He said, almost nervously, “It’s one of the few visions I can remember.”

Ian nodded. “We are the pillars, even though we are not all Time Lords.  But we all must fight for them, for we could all be lost in the torrents of time and space if there are no guardians to guide us.”

“Amaya, in her visions,” Vance shot a glance to Hydra, “she spoke of The Sentinel rising.  Of people coming together under The Sentinel’s watch...”

“That was Amadeus’ first vision about all this.” Diana explained, though she was distracted by Amadeus flailing his arms.  “Shortly after that, we met The Sentinel, and he brought both of us here.  He found Nick next, and then later he found Ian.”

“Are you five the only ones—apart from us?” The Doctor asked, also eyeing Amadeus, who was back to sitting against the back of the chair quietly.

“The Sentinel has been gathering allies of many races and many times who have all agreed to help us fight,” said Ian.  “Our next step will be to move everyone into place.”

“And where is this huge fight supposed to be?” Hydra asked, her tone of voice much less snarky than it normally was.

“On the planet Paccem,” Ian replied.  “Most of the ORBIT operatives are based there, and many have moved their families there to keep them safe,”

“And out of their way,” Nick added with a sneer.

Ian nodded with a small shrug.  “We have a lock on when the operatives will return to Paccem after their failed Gemini mission, and that is when we’ll move into place.  If we don’t start there, they’ll finalize their plans to ambush us without our army.”

“Do they know where we are—wh-where this base is?” James asked.

“Not yet, but once they make it to Paccem it doesn’t take them long to notice the time-streams of all of the Time Lords converge here.”

The conversation again grew silent.  I glanced at Hydra, but she was looking towards the armor propped against a nearby wall.  Mano still had his arm around her, and he looked fairly concerned.  Vance was fairly pale, but I would have been more surprised if he wasn’t completely stunned by all of the news he had been given.  His thoughts were also resting on Amaya, still healing in a room neraby.  Beside him, James had closed his eyes, probably going through everything in his head one more time.

Ian had also been looking at James, but he soon turned back to Diana, who half-smiled at him.  Nick noticed their interaction and seemed to scoff at the floor.  Amadeus was wide-eyed, swinging his legs back and forth as he sat on the chair.  The Doctor put his arm around me and pressed his lips against my forehead.  I closed my eyes.

“So what you’re saying...” Hydra said at last, the severity of the situation finally weighing down on her, “...We’re going to have to fight no matter what.”

Ian rested his hands on the back of one of the chairs.  “It will either be on their terms, or ours.  I’d much rather ours.”

She turned and looked at me.  “Then I guess we have no choice.”

I nodded solemnly.  “The pillars must stand together.”

The Doctor shook his head, gazing at the armor on the wall.

“...We’re going to be doing a lot more than standing...”

---

Keep Reading! Book 8 - The Strongest >>