Unbeknown to Pippa, Rory sat silent and motionless by the canal for hours, listening to screams and ugly laughter that only he could hear. The sun came up, its first warming rays brushing his face, but it did not draw him from his personal darkness. Her name was Tonia, and Larch took days to flay and disembowel her...

A hand tapping his shoulder made him start and look up. Not very far up, since the signora who'd touched him wasn't much taller than he was sitting. He shook his head in confusion at her Italian questions, but after he finally managed to get across that he was all right (thus pulling off a fairly spectacular lie), she smiled, patted him again and moved on.

Rory sighed, feeling a sudden, intense desire for his guitar. Music, at least, had never deserted him. No matter how distraught he felt, playing his emotions out in song had always given him something to hold onto. And he wasn't of much use in any other capacity, or so he felt right now.

Eventually he trailed back the way he came, reluctant to face Pippa, but even more reluctant to be alone any longer. When he opened the door as quietly as he could, he saw Pippa curled on the bed, her tear-stained face pressed into the pillows. He slipped inside, dropped back into the armchair he'd vacated hours ago, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.