Tom doesn't often walk alone through the Underside. It's not because he's reluctant to do so. It's more because he has no need to do so. He and Door conduct so much of their business together that she tends to be his constant companion. When she's not with him, he has noted, with some amusement, that Hunter is, if not in plain sight. He is not offended by this. Door can walk alone with little fear. He knows she still wanders as she used to as a younger girl when she has the time. Hunter no doubt accompanies her in much the same way.

He knows that Hunter is likely with Door at the moment, though, because they were both called away for different urgent business at the same time. That is as it should be. Door is the Lady of the House of Arch, and to be truly honest, he's old-fashioned enough to want Hunter to be with her. He almost lost her in the Underside once; he will not risk that again. Besides, he can escape danger in ways Door cannot.

Tom walks through a dark Victorian passage with his wand tip alight and then turns a corner and blinks his eyes against the early dawn light of a medieval muse, the horses stamping and huffing in their stalls. One more turn and he follows a more modern stretch of street lit with electric lights. He's nearly home. He nods to rats as they scurry by. They are a lifeline of sorts, and well he knows that.

Of course, he could Apparate back to the House, or open directly there, but he likes walking home. There are always interesting things to discover.

Here are two 'men' who haven't been seen in a while. And who no one really wanted to see again.

"I'm exceeding glad to be out of there, aren't you?"

"Very happy, yeah."

Mr. Croup stretches and shakes himself. "Although I must say that we had quite the fun with our dear friend the angel."

"Yeah," says Mr. Vandemar, and licks his lips. "Lots of fun."

"I wonder how long it's been. I suppose we'll have to ask around."

"Seemed like a long time."

"It was probably only a few years, though. Felt like forever, though, didn't it?"

". . . no."

"Well, not literally. Metaphorically, however, it was ages."

"Hungry, Mr. Croup."

"You're always hungry, Mr. Vandemar." Croup shakes his head. "Maybe after we've found out what year it is. Kill two birds with one stone, if you like."

They grin at each other and walk on.

"I'm exhausted," said Tom, grinning like an idiot as they stumbled out of Vauxhall Gardens into a quiet Victorian mews. The Underside's Vauxhall Gardens could host entertainments ranging from masquerades and symphonies to parades and promenades to raves and balls. No one ever knew what would be happening on any given day.

Tonight featured a swing dance spectacular. Tom wondered, since this was their night out for his birthday, if Door had somehow orchestrated the event. This was his era of music and dancing after all. They'd danced for hours.

The liquor had flowed - some of it of better quality than others, but all of it doing the job just fine - and Tom was pleasantly warm against the cold of the winter evening. He took Door's hand, swinging their arms as they walked along.

"Should we go to our cottage in Brittany? I don't want to go home just yet."

"Ostium, a moment, please," said the Lord of the Green Park.

Tom nodded to Door, as she was escorted by Lady Abigail out of the parlor. Turning to the older man, he said, "You can have more than a moment, Clement."

He genuinely liked Clement, but at the same time, he coldly calculated the weaknesses of his barony and found his preparations wanting. The Green Park was practically undefended, or had been until a month ago, when Tom placed basic protective wards upon the entrances and exits. For all the previous threats to the Bower, he couldn't believe Clement had done nothing aside from posting youths with spears at the main doors. And now that the fragile peace they'd woven between the Green Park and the Greenlings had ended in a violent outburst, Tom found himself assessing the barony even more harshly.

"I owe the House of Arch a great deal already, but I have another favor to ask. Brandy?" He offered Tom a snufter.

"Yes, thanks." Tom took it and drank.

Clement stared down into his glass."I suppose you think me quite foolish for not being better prepared. After all, the Greenlings have been a menace for generations; why would they stop now?"

"I must say, I had rather wondered."

"Portico did, too. He warned me more than once, and I did what I thought prudent. My house is not one of Openers. We never held the power of the House of Arch, nor did we want it. Mine is a house of life and growing, not one of feuds. I secretly hoped that Portico's dreams would come to fruition. In a unified Underside, there might have been resolution with the Greenlings. Has Door told you how the feud began?"

"She told me that when a Lord of the House died about a century ago, and his brother raised a question as to the paternity of his heir," said Tom, watching Clement closely. There was a look of defeat about the man. His wrinkles seemed deeper, his eyes duller. His calloused, dirt-ingrained hands - the Lord of the Green was not named so for sitting in studies - stayed in nervous motion twisting the fabric of his tunic.

"That was part of it, but the brother, Gregor, wished to fell many of the trees of the Greenwood, use them for trade and for carving as well. It wasn't simply a fight over who would rule the barony. If the Greenlings had their way, the Green Park would be irrevocably changed."

Tom nodded, though he and Door both agreed that this was not the real problem, nor the inevitable consequence if the fued ended. They'd spoken till they were blue in the face on the topic to no avail.

"I know, I know. It might not come to pass, but it's a possibility. Just as you Open, we tend. It's a sacred obligation, and one I take as seriously as you do your oaths to your house." He sighed. "Anyway, let me get round to the favor. I understand why Door will not request the Knights of Sloan Square to stand for us. I'll petition them myself, and I appreciate the message she's sent them in our behalf. I like you, Ostium. I like you a great deal, even though I don't always understand you. Door is held in higher esteem than even her father was. Half the Underside fears you both, and the other half likes you, but nearly all respect you."

"That's good to hear," said Tom with a wry smile.

"What I have to ask you is a serious thing. Portico and Portia were two of our closest and dearest friends, and an alliance between the families was something we always hoped might occur."

Tom frowned. Dear Lord, he wasn't going to propose a betrothal between Ingress and young Clement, was he?

"Would you consider speaking with Door about fostering Clement?"

Before Tom could speak, Clement continued. "I know you have your hands full with your two youngsters, and I don't ask for preferential treatment. He could serve the House, as fosters of old did. Foster, not favor; that's the way it must be. That way he'd learn the art of holding power in the Underside from watching both of you and doing your bidding, and perhaps he'd grow up tougher than his old father could ever be."

"I'll certainly discuss it with her, but this is, as you say, a great favor to ask. Are you certain you'd wish to do such a thing? The Bower is secure, and the Knights will likely give you aid when you ask it-"

"There have been portents. I read the roots and the leaves. The attack yesterday was not unexpected. My time is close, and no magic will save me. Abigail refuses to leave my side, if Clement might become a part of your household. If not, she will flee into hiding with the boy. I shall lose the Bower and the Green Park, but I shall not lose my son."

"It's not fitting to speak of defeat like this," said Tom, baffled. "You must fight for your barony. We'd rather not lose you as ally." He couldn't understand attitudes like this. How could someone just give up, stop trying? He reckoned he knew why the Lord of the Green Park, larger barony though it was, was not as powerful as the House of Arch, which was neither a barony nor a fiefdom.

"I'm an old man, and it's written in the roots. Please, speak to Door. Once you do, I will make it known to the Seven Sisters and the other great houses that the next Lord of the Green Park is fostered with you and awaits his coming of age in safety."

Tom's brow furrowed even more deeply. "I'll speak with her. I hope what you foresee doesn't come to pass."

"It will, my lord. It will. f it should sooner than we can secure Clement's safety, there is place he knows to go." He gestured for Tom to come look out the window. Once he was in place, Clement pointed.

"There - you see that tree, the one growing slightly away from the grove? He'll be there." His shoulders stooped,and his voice went flat. "But we needn't worry yet, not tonight. Shall we go meet our ladies?" Clement walked out of the parlor, a man defeated.

Tom followed, weighing the negative and positive outcomes of granting this favor as he did. It would be difficult not to care for a child in his charge, but there was little they could do. Might won over right frequently in the Underside, but the underdogs often came out on top. If they took the boy in, he and Door would have to be even more careful than they were now. However, Tom wouldn't leave a child of a friend to be murdered, if he could help it.

---

The evening is nearly over, and Tom and Door must be on their way, troubles in this barony or no. They walk together through London Below, and Tom notices that Door is just as thoughtful as he.

"Oh ruddy hell..."

He blinks and peers at the open archway of the tunnel from which he'd obviously emerged. He'd just been checking something out in the closet and tripped on one of Richard's shoes and now...

Well, damn him if he knew where he was or how to get out.

The spell is as ready as it's going to be, and it's past time for something to be done.

A large crowd was in the middle of New Year's revelry when the Night on the Bridge struck Hampstead Heath. Scores were lost.

Tom, Door, and Hunter are out searching for it. They are to notify him via charmed mirrors if they find it before he does.

He is hoping for the best. He is prepared for the worst.

Tom has received permission to call on Serpentine. He'd asked for it a few days ago, but one does not simply drop in on someone like her, unless one has a damn good reason. And even then it is wise to think twice about it.

In any case, he arrives at her home, eager to ask her for news and advice.

The majordomo shows him into her dusty sitting room, and he makes a low bow to her.

"Good day, my lady. I hope I find you well."

The rat scurried into Door’s study, panting and disheveled.

“Darling, we’ve a message,” said Tom, looking up from his work.

Door stepped around her desk and knelt down to greet the messenger. “Oh, yes, I’m glad you said,” she replied to its squeaking as she scooped it up into her hand. Door glanced over at Tom, her face pale. “It’s an emergency.”

Tom joined Door and the hapless rat who lay in her palm, struggling for breath. She took the message from its leg and showed it to Tom.

The note consisted of one word: Help. It was signed by Ulfric, the head of a small clan which lived on the banks of the Thames.

Door set the rat carefully on her desk. “Stay here as long as you like,” she said.

There was no more discussion. With grim looks on both their faces, they both headed for the painting to the Front Gallery.

When they opened into the field before the clan’s holdings, Tom’s wand was out, ready to strike whoever – or whatever – might be there.

“Oh God, Tom, look…” Door’s eyes widened, and she clutched for Tom’s free hand.

The Night on the Bridge had found another place to encroach upon. Billowing darkness roiled in front them, blotting out the view of the stone fort where Ulfric and his kinsmen lived.

“Expecto Patronum!” Tom cast his Patronus as he pulled Door behind him. The Darkness rose up like a wave high over them, and the white king cobra reared to meet it. This was no mere patch of shadow, though. The Patronus held back the void only for a moment before it crashed down upon it, snuffing out its white glow.

That moment was all Door needed to place her hand on the closest wall and Open a way to safety.

Hours later, they chanced approaching the holdings once more. Ulfric’s clan had been fiercely loyal to the House of Arch for generations.

Nothing alive was left. No grass, no trees, no people.

They stood together in the silent courtyard where children had once run to greet them. Tom stared blankly about him. When troubles presented themselves, Tom always had a theory to work from for some plan of attack. He had no clue as to how to stop this, and neither did Door.

It was all they could do to protect their children from the latest menace at Milliways, much less from the Night that was no longer content to stay on the Bridge.

It was the winter solstice and the Dark was rising. There was nothing they could do to stop it, it seemed.

Neverways is a place outside of Milliways and the House of Arch, and it's meant to be a place where our Neverwhere characters can go about their Underside business.

A few notes on Millicanon in the Underside, so we are all on the same page:

Lynette and I have had a great time plotting and planning with the fabric of London Below. The Knights of Sloan Square are great allies, the Earl and Earl's Court was pretty much vanquished this summer, along with a great many Velvets. The Moors of Moorgate were pretty much decimated for their role in capturing and holding Door captive. I never got a summary of this, but the events are in memories here.

There is a female head of state called the Marylebone whose story might get told soon. The Lord of the Green Park, the Goodge Street Guild and Confederacy, Picadilly Circus -which is rather terrifying, what with the clown brothels, and the May Fair, a week long celebration, have all been mentioned in passing.

Tom considers Serpentine to be a an ally, though Door is still frightened of her. He takes charge of all affairs dealing with the lady.

Tom also found part of a Dark Tower-verse Beam near Moorgate.

The Wizarding world and the Underside have tenuous links to each other's worlds, thus Tom's ability to go back and forth at first. Now that he's an Opener, he can no longer be seen in the Muggle world, either. Death Eaters caused a ruckus in the Below earlier this year. Tom dealt with them, winning favor amongst the Ratspeakers, especially (we've wanted the House of Arch to be aligned with the Ratspeakers because they are important folk).

Now that we have more people with characters (Hunter and Anaesthesia, especially), I'd like to invite you all to feel free to imagine along with us. Take an Underground station name and turn it into a place, a person, a history, whatever. If what you create might have some impact on the House of Arch and folks therein, ping either Lynette (miraielle) or me (vivien529) just so we can stay in the loop.

The Underside is a big place with pockets of trapped time and more kinds of people and places than the two of us can imagine. As such, in Neverways, if you'd like a one time character or a recurring one that will never go to Milliways, that is allowable. Just email me (vivien529 at aol dot com) or Lynette (miraielle at yahoo dot com)with who, what, and why, and we can approve membership.

Come play!

*In the front gallery, the small group collects. Tom paces about, speaking with them quickly.*

I'll cast the Locater spell in the alley way outside the entry of the House of Arch.

*If nothing else, he will do no Dark magic within the House itself.*

That way it will be more effective. Once it rises, we follow it, no matter where. If it leads us to the Moors, we'll make short work of them. There are only forty or so able-bodied men, and none carry weapons more lethal than swords. They're thugs, low-skilled and heavy-handed.

My priority will be finding Door. Are you all ready?

He comes across them by chance in the misty dimness of the predawn hours. The small cluster of Velvets must not have heard him coming, engrossed as they were in their task.

They stood, daggers in hands, in a circle around the corpses of several rats.

So that's what had happened to the messenger rats of the Underside.

When they looked up and saw him, glaring at them with a red sheen glowing in his eyes, their faces went even whiter than their usual pall.

The word was out of Tom's mouth with such ease it was frightening. "CRUCIO!"

****

An hour or so later, after Tom had pulled every morsel of information from their minds through torture or Legilimens about the Velvets' involvement with Door, Tom strode away from a burning pile of women-shaped creatures with a grim smile on his face. He had proof now, and the Velvets days were numbered in the Underside. He did not, however, know where Door was.

He just happened to look down at the right moment to see a very frightened rat peering out carefully from under a pile of debris. He crouched down. "Have you a message?" Tom couldn't understand rat speech, but if it did have something to say Ingress would understand.

With that simple thought of Ingress, Tom looked sharply from whence he'd come as if snapping out of a daze. An Unforgivable curse, several rounds of it, in fact, had tripped of his tongue as easily as a Warming charm. His hands began shaking and he stared into space in horror.

In the meantime, the rat had tentatively emerged from its hiding place. It did have something to say, it would seem. Its whiskers flickered worriedly.

Tom carefully picked up the rat and took it back to the House of Arch.

*****

Ingress held the rat, chatting with it amiably.

"Tom, she says she saw Door near Moorgate not two days ago! Now you can go find her!"

"I'll go there straightaway." He kissed Ingress on the forehead. Gavroche was sitting near them, and Tom leaned in to hug him tightly.

As he went out again into the new day, he was hopeful. If the Moors of Moorgate found her, that would be bad. For them, actually. If they did capture her and place her in their harem, he couldn't see Door allowing any of them to touch her.

Unless she were drugged, or bound, or...

(And if so, then they will wish they'd never been born.)

After hearing from Arithon about the attempts on Door's life, Tom had gone straight to Earl's Court in a fury.

He hadn't given the Earl a chance to ramble this time. The moment he entered the train car, he made eye contact with the old man and cast Legilimens. This time he wasn't gentle. He rooted through the confusing, conflicting images inside his senile head until he found what he wanted. There was Door, sprawled on the floor from a blow on the head.

"You bastard," Tom snarled. "Where is she?"

He was dimly aware of several sword tips poking into his back. He gestured sharply with his wand and all of the Earl's soldiers flew backward, clattering against the wall. They crouched there in fear, not pursuing the wizard before them.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

The Earl glanced up from where he cowered, his eyes muddled and full of terror. Tom would get nothing from him, so he whirled around, advancing on the Earl's court jester.

"Tell me, little man."

"She- she escaped, my Lord. Yesterday night."

"Escaped? Then why isn't she safely at home? Hmmm? Legilimens!"

He was most disappointed to discover the fool spoke the truth. She was gone. However, this man provided him much more salient information. He saw plots being laid and caught glimpses of Velvets speaking with the Earl, whispering in his ear, cooing and cajoling.

He should destroy this car, kill all on board in vengeance. He raised his wand, ready to do just that.

Stop, Tom. That would be an open declaration of war. Wait till you find Door. She can decide whether the debt they owe her is worth their lives.

"I shan't kill you now. Perhaps later I shall. Know this, if I find you've done anything to further harm the Lady Door, I shall be here in an instant, and I shall make you all wish you'd never been born."

(Cruciatus... they deserve it. It wouldn't be such a terrible thing for such as these. Sometimes the means justify the end.)

That Tom Marvolo Riddle was contemplating the use of serious Dark magic without even being alarmed was proof enough that the lingering presence of Black 13 had wormed its way into his soul.

He stopped the train car himself, and he stepped off into the blackness of his search one more time. If she'd escaped, she might be hurt somewhere, frightened. He wondered why she hadn't sent a rat with a message, and then he had the realization that he'd not even seen rats scurrying to and fro lately. Nor had he seen any Velvets.

Not only did he need to look for Door, but one of the Seven Sisters had requested an audience, and he couldn't afford to skip it. The wrath of the Sisters was something to be avoided. There were other small, but terribly volatile matters he needed to check into as well, but he could do this as he searched.

It was not common knowledge that Door had gone missing. It would be unwise to let that information slip to the masses.

On top of everything else pressing on his tired mind, there was the matter of the children. Ingress was clingy and silent, and there was nothing he could do to lessen her fears. He barely had time to stop by for a few minutes of talk and reassurances, much less help them through this latest trauma. Gavroche was not only worried about Door, but also frightened of this Parnasse character. Tom wished he had time to take care of him - he'd hex the fellow senseless, bar rules or no, for bothering his boy.

He still didn't know about how things had turned out in that faraway world for which he'd scorned Door. He bloody well hoped his efforts hadn't been in vain.

He needed help. If he didn't find her tonight, he'd go to Milliways and ask for Hunter's aid. She owed Door and she knew London Below as well, or better, than he did.

He'd tried a Locater spell - a regular one - before he'd heard the news of the threats against Door's life. It hadn't worked. There was one alteration that would make it work, but that would require the purposeful use of Dark magic.

Tom was close to taking that step. Very close.

He was also beyond caring about the consequences. The only thing holding him back was the remembrance of Ingress as an adult, imploring him to remember his love for their family. He wouldn't let himself recall how he'd used that remembrance, that love, that light to escape the vampire at the Academy. The thought of light and love (and the rose, the singing rose, so beautiful he'd dreamed of it) was anathema to him now.

He was mired in Darkness and fatigue, and Door wasn't there to help him this time.

Tom’s eyes slowly opened. He blinked several times, trying to remember where he was and why he felt so bloody awful.

Home. He was home. What had happened? Had the attack succeeded? He couldn’t remember if he even knew or not. Through a dim haze he recalled feeling wretched, touched by something, stumbling through New York City and getting River back to Milliways. There were others there, so some survived the attack at least.

He looked around the room. Where was Door? Surely she wasn’t angry with him. No, no, he assured himself. It’s late afternoon – you’ve slept the day away, is all.

He got up, stretching as he walked to the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub.

After he’d cleaned up, he went looking for Door. He checked her study again, going all the way in this time and checking her desk. What he saw there froze him. Her opal necklace, the one enchanted to always let him hear what she said, lay there. She never took it off. Ever. He picked it up, putting it in his pocket. There was also a note there on the desk – the bloody Earl requesting more help. He hoped the Knights had slaughtered him in the meantime.

This meant nothing – Door could still be in the house. Maybe she’d tried to contact him and he’d been too dead to the world to hear her, so she took off the necklace absentmindedly. Maybe she was in the nursery. He went there next.

“Tom, Tom!” yelled Ingress, her face lighting up when she saw him. She and Gavroche both hurried over and threw their arms around him.

“Hello, dear ones,” he said, hugging them back. Some of the chill that lingered within him lifted. “I’m back, and I missed you.”

“We got your notes,” said Gavroche. “But where’s Door?”

“She didn’t come to tuck us in and she didn’t come to breakfast. I can’t find her anywhere!” Ingress’ eyes were wide and worried.

Tom glanced up sharply at Mary Poppins, who was hanging back a bit, allowing the reunion to take place. “Welcome back, sir. I’ve not seen Lady Door either. This isn’t like her, I think.”

“No, it’s not.” He gave the children another kiss and hug. “I think I know where Door is. I’m going to go find her and bring her home.”

“Do you promise?” said Ingress.

Tom’s already small grin vanished altogether. “I can’t make promises like that, love, but I’ll try my very hardest.”

Gavroche and Ingress nodded, both somber. Tom gave them one more look, hoping to convey some reassurance, and then left for the Knights of Sloane Square. They were allies. If they needed aid, he’d give it, though he was tired still and not feeling quite right.

She was alright. He was certain of it. Maybe she’d had extended talks and had been too tired to return home. The Knights had a hostelry – she might have stayed with them.

But he wasn’t certain of anything, not really. And if something had happened to her because he wasn’t there when she needed him?

(Then those who hurt her will beg for mercy they’ll not receive.)

The Knights were surprised to see Tom, and then extremely concerned.

“We shall send an escort with you to deal with the Earl, my lord,” said Quentin. “If the Lady has been harmed in any way-“

“Then it’s my place to address it, not yours.” His head was throbbing again, but he wouldn’t allow the Knights to attack the Earl and his court. Too much was at stake.

(Let them rip each other to shreds, it’d be two less bloody factions to worry about.)

No, that’s not what you’re here for. You bring order to the chaos, Tom, and you know Door has worked hard with both the Knights and the Earl.

“Look, Sir Quentin, help me out by sending your men to look for Door. Just in case. I shall deal with the Earl.”

Deal with the Earl, he did, and all for naught. The man was rambling and senile – Tom even performed Legilimens, rooting through the confused man’s mind to find nothing but jumbled images of days of glory gone by. The court was slightly shifty, but then they were always slightly shifty.

He did manage to retrieve some information from them. Door had been there the day before. The Earl had been confused and had sent the false alarm. She’d been there and scolded him, and then she’d gone. No one knew where to.

Tom had only visited Earl’s Court a handful of times. He didn’t know it consisted of more than one car. He couldn’t know that at that a few moments earlier, Door escaped her captors only to find herself at the mercy of the Velvets. He’d not been told about the attempts on her life.

He should have known that things can be more than they seem.

He arrogantly glanced around the packed car of Earl’s Court. “If you’ve done anything to her, you shall answer to me. Door has patience – I do not. However, if you see her, you must let me know, straightaway. That will curry great favor with me.”

“Oh yes, my Lord, we’ll tell you if.. uh, if… who was it again? Lady Portia?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Lady Door. Stop now. I’m done here.”

The train came to a stop and Tom left, walking briskly into the dark of the Underside to find Door.

Door wanders the streets of London Below aimlessly, just needing to calm down before she goes home again. She knew it was coming, but now that it's here, it's all too soon.

She's in a street of shops which actually open during the day, although the things they sell aren't ones you would find anywhere Above.

And then the chain around her neck burns hot and she turns in the direction it indicates - just in time for a brick to connect solidly with her forehead and send her crashing back through a plate glass window.

There's somebody standing there, she can see the silhouette, but her vision is blurring over, and she's reaching behind her and Opening, and then she knows no more.

*Tom's been searching less fervently for the past couple of days now, but he still spends much of his time out looking for Gavroche. He received a fairly reliable tip that a skittish boy fitting his description had been seen near the grounds of the May Fair, so Tom checks this particular place once or twice every day.

Today is no exception.*

Lumos.

*The light from the tip of his wand illuminates the dark, shadowed expanse. It's day time in most of London Below, but here it is always night.

There are figures sleeping under the tables at the far end of the fairgrounds. Some of the figures are small, some are not.*

Gavroche? Please, lad, if you're here, do come let me see you. We miss you, lad.

*Tom waits, but hears nothing. He sighs and begins to turn around and go back the way he came.*

*Tom's been out on his own for a while, wandering round London Below. He likes to do that sometimes - to practice navigating without Door to rely upon. He has always been one to enjoy time to himself, and sometimes he needs to be alone and away.

He's carrying a bouquet of flowers he bought at a Victorian flower sellers stall. He might like to be on his own at times, but he likes having someone to come home to and buy flowers for more.

Walking up a narrow alley he spies a familiar figure in the distance. To his credit, he doesn't turn and go the other way.*

*Tom and Door walk together through the darkened alleys and tunnels of London Below, as they do every night. They are holding hands, more young lovers on a walk than the Lady and Lord of the House of Arch on their rounds.*

Darling, I do hope we can finish up early tonight. We've been entirely too busy this week.

*They walk together through London Below, the Lady and Lord of the House of Arch, having just finished meeting with Serpentine. Tom is in a brilliant mood, although Door looks a little pale.*

See, I told you it would go just fine.

Richard opens the door of Milliways close the the spot where Anaesthesia had shown him the short-cut to Down Street. He really owed her a big Favour for that one. He leads the group up to the large white house with a placard on the door reading The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Houses, above that is a paper sign reading Please Knock. He ignores both of these and lets them all in.

Richard falls asleep after seaching the Labyrinth with Anaesthesia and falls into a nightmare. }