Disclaimer: I do not own Penny Dreadful or any of the characters. Nor do I own any of the poetry quoted in this chapter.

This chapter is told from Emily's point of view.

Chapter Three

Emily tried to sleep that night. She really, really did. But, after spending so much time in and out of consciousness, she found herself reluctant to fall asleep. While unconscious, she had had strange dreams. Some were bad, others made no sense, and some were merely echoes of what was going on around her.

The real trouble was, though, that she was having a harder and harder time telling the dreams from reality. This frightened her. She kept opening her eyes, expecting to be one place, only to find herself somewhere totally unfamiliar. It was disorienting as well as disheartening to the young woman.

Besides the dreams and disorientation, she was in pain. Her leg ached badly. She had not dared to look at it since the nuns had splinted and bound her leg. Her body also couldn't decide what temperature it needed to be. Sometimes, she felt as though she had a fever, and wanted to kick the covers off. But then, a moment later, she'd feel cold despite the covers, as if she'd been dropped into the river again. Either way, the sweating didn't stop.

Her head hurt as well, and she had that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she had forgotten something. Something important… But what? Could she have hit her head hard enough to cause amnesia? She couldn't remember hitting her head, but, then again, a lot of her recent memories were fuzzy. Her long-term memory, however, was just fine.

She knew who she was. She was Emily Birch. She was from Abita Springs, Louisiana, in the United States. She was 22. She lived with her parents and her younger brother, Bradly, who was 16. They had a pet: an orange and stripped tabby cat named Alex.

She also had a very, very dear friend by the same name. Alex. He was really important to her, though she couldn't remember how she knew him, for now.

As for how she'd ended up…wherever she was, all she remembered was the knowledge of an impending crash from high up in the sky. Had she been in a plane?

No, a ship. A space ship? she wondered. She groaned softly, unable to make sense of any of it, and shook her head to re-direct her thoughts.

That same nagging feeling kept pulling at her about the cat, especially, as well as her friend, Alex. Why? Emily had no clue. She could only hope that time would bring her memories back.

Her only comfort throughout the night was Caliban, who sat dozing on and off on the floor next to the bed.

While she hadn't known him that long, his kind nature and actions had won her trust. He had saved her life, after all. And then, he'd stuck around to help. So, the least she could do, she figured, was trust him.

She realized then that she didn't know where she was. She knew she was at a shelter known as the "Banning Clinic," but she didn't know where the clinic was. What city was she in? What country? Thinking back, she remembered that all the people she'd met, from Caliban to the nuns, all spoke with an accent. Could she be somewhere in England, or somewhere else in Europe?

Since she didn't know, she resolved to ask Caliban in the morning. Assuming she was still alive then, anyway.

Something else was off, too. Despite her injuries, no one had even said anything about going to an emergency room, or that she needed an x-ray of her leg, or other medical treatment. Why?

Maybe she wasn't in Europe, but in some other country, one without much access to medical care. A third world country? Perhaps she'd crashed into the middle of a group of people such as "Doctors Without Borders," or other humanitarian relief workers.

She would ask Caliban in the morning. Apparently, she'd be asking him a number of things.

She lay still for a long time, trying to relax and, if not sleep, then to just let her body rest. It was so quiet. During this time of silence, however, Emily heard Caliban mumble in his sleep. From what she could see of his face from her current angle was creased and furrowed.

A bad dream? She wondered. She could relate.

"Ives…" Emily couldn't help but hear the words coming from Caliban. "Please get better… No. Miss Ives! Vanessa…"

Caliban sounded so anguished that Emily, despite the physical pain it caused her, pushed herself upright and reached for him. She shook his shoulder gently.

With a cry, Caliban jolted awake. He jumped away from her touch with surprising speed. Still crouched on the floor, he looked around wildly, as if disoriented and trying to figure out if there was something threatening him or not.

Poor guy, Emily thought. Who knows what kind of hell he'd been through in his life?

"It's okay, Caliban!" she rushed to reassure him. "It's me-Emily. You're alright. You were having a bad dream, so I tried to wake you up to get you out of it. I didn't mean to scare you."

As the last of his nightmare dissolved from his mind's eye, he looked at her.

"Miss Emily?" he spoke softly, as if unsure.

"Yes, Caliban?" she responded, watching as he got to his feet from where he'd been crouched on the floor.

"Thank you for waking me. You were right. It was a nightmare," he stated, sitting down on the very edge of the foot of the bed.

"Did I wake you?" he asked a moment later.

Emily shook her head. "I was already awake. Been having trouble sleeping."

She wanted to ask who Miss Ives was, but decided against it, not wanting to remind him of his nightmare. So, she asked something else entirely.

"I realized that I don't know where I am," she told him, easing herself down onto one elbow as opposed to sitting fully upright. "And I figured it would be a good thing to know. Where are we? What city is this?"

Caliban blinked in surprise, but answered without any kind of mockery in his tone. Emily was very grateful for that.

"We are in London, Miss Emily. Where were you before the…" he struggled to find the right word for what had happened at the river. "Before the accident? How ever did you wind up in such a strange contraption?"

Emily saw him give a hint of a smile, as evidenced by how one corner of Caliban's mouth quirked upwards. She smiled back wryly.

"I think I was in the United States. As for how I wound up falling from the sky… I have no idea right now."

Wait… if she was in London, England, then why hadn't she been brought to a hospital for treatment of her injuries? They definitely had modern hospitals there. Unless they thought she hadn't wanted to go to one? Who knew?

There was also the matter of not only medicine and medical care, but also of the technology of this place (or lack thereof). There were braziers lit around the place, as well as lanterns on the walls. There were candles lit in various places, too. But there was no electricity that she could see. There were also no cellphones that she could see or hear. Her own must have gotten lost in the crash.

The clothing people wore (not that she had seen many, other than Caliban and the nuns) were strange. It was like they were from a hundred years ago, or more. Very strange.

"I feel like Dory," she said out loud without realizing it.

"Who's Dory?" Caliban asked.

"You know, the little blue fish character, from Finding Nemo? The one with the memory problem? She got her own movie, too. Finding Dory." Emily explained, thinking he'd get the reference.

He stared at her. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. Except for the memory problem part. You feel like you can't remember things?"

"Yeah. I remember things like my name, my family, and where I'm from. But my more recent memories are fuzzy," she tried to explain.

"Such as how you got here," Caliban offered.

Emily nodded.

"Exactly," she agreed. "I have no idea what I was doing in that…" something inside her wanted to call it a ship, but didn't want to sound any crazier than she already may be. "metal thing. I have a feeling it was important, though." She frowned, wishing she could remember. The nagging feeling alone was driving her nuts.

"Time will help you remember," Caliban insisted softly. "Do not fret, Miss Emily."

"Thank you, Caliban. I appreciate you listening to me, but I'm sure you want to get back to sleep." Emily didn't want to keep him up any longer than he wanted to be. "I feel better now."

"As do I," he agreed. "But I do not need to sleep very often. Quite often I am the only other person awake at this hour, or even later, reading."

"What do you like to read?" Emily asked him, feeling a sense of excitement that they had something more in common than just being down on their luck. She smiled.

"The classics, and some contemporaries," he answered. "Poetry, mainly. Tennyson, Keats, Shakespeare, Shelley…" he motioned to the books stacked next to the cot as he spoke.

"Every read anything by Poe?" Emily found herself asking. "What about Frost? Or Dickenson?"

"I am not so familiar with American literature as I am of the English," he admitted. "But I have heard of Mr. Poe's The Raven, but not of the other two authors you mentioned. Would you tell me of them?"

Emily felt her smile widen, then.

"I'm nobody. Who are you? Are you "nobody" too?" she quoted from memory as best she could. "Then there's a pair of us -don't tell! They'd banish us, you know."

"That's all I got," Emily concluded. "It's by Emily Dickenson. I had to memorize the first stanza of that poem for school, once."

"Well done!" Caliban grinned. "You have a good memory for poetry, it seems. Shall I quote something to you, now?"

"Yes, please," Emily agreed. "I'd love to hear something."

"I know of a few by Percy Shelley. Here's one of his shorter poems," he began.

"One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother;
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another," he paused his recitation, as if thinking. He soon continued with the poem's second verse:
"I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not, -
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?"

Emily found the poem moving and deep. Caliban had done an excellent job of not only reciting the poem, but also speaking the words with emotion. It was like he meant it, as if he related to it.

She smiled at Caliban, feeling somewhat sheepish given the much shorter poem she had told to him earlier. She wished she remembered more. She wondered, briefly, if the word the author referred to was "love". Or was it something else, since they themselves used the word later in the poem?

"That was beautiful. "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,"" she responded, albeit somewhat random. "By Poe. I always liked that one. Despite his reputation for horror, his poetry is actually very beautiful. Sad at times, but beautiful."

"I find I like that poem, too. Could you repeat it for me, please, once more?" Caliban asked.

Emily repeated the poem to him, and waited to see what he thought.

"Thank you, Miss Emily. I find there is truth in that statement. Do you?" he inquired.

"Yeah, I do. And you know what else is true? His poem about science. Want to hear it? I may not get it exactly right, but the point remains," she offered.

"I'm intrigued. Please do," Caliban answered.

Emily nodded, and she began enthusiastically. "Science! True daughter of time thou art! Thou hast stolen the elfin from the green grass, Diana from her car, and from me, the summer dream beneath the Tamarind tree."

"Fascinating," he commented a moment later. "Very different. Very true. I can sense the desire for simpler times or simple beliefs, such as those one held in childhood."

Emily found herself nodding in agreement. "It's like, despite all the good science does for us, it still steals the magic from stuff, you know?"

"Yes," Caliban concurred, then added quietly: "Frankenstein would like it, too."

Emily didn't quite catch all of his last sentence. All she heard was something about Frankenstein and liking something. Did he mean the book by Mary Shelley?

"You've read Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley? Or, A Modern Prometheus, as it's sometimes called?" Emily assumed.

She couldn't help but notice how her new friend froze at her words.

"No," he stated, still looking put off. "I have not."

He looked down at the ground.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked, wishing she had the strength to scoot down and touch his shoulder. "Have I upset you? Are you tired?"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

His body language, however, said differently.

"Not true," Emily challenged. "Otherwise, we'd either be discussing the story, or swapping more poetry. I'm sorry if it was something I said or did. How can I make it up to you, Caliban?"

He looked at her, then.

"I…" he stammered. "No need to apologize, Miss Emily, for it is not your fault. I just… I think I may need to rest now. You do, too," he insisted.

"Okay," Emily replied, not totally buying it, but understanding that there might be things going on in his life that he didn't want to share, either about the past or present. She wouldn't press him.

"Although," he added, more shyly than before. "I wouldn't mind hearing the tale tomorrow, perhaps, if you feel up for it, then."

Despite the oddness of his request, Emily found she didn't mind. She shifted so that she lay on her side, wincing as her leg continued to ache. She'd do just about anything for a Tylenol about then.

"I'd be happy to," she answered. She fought back a yawn. "And you're right. I think I can sleep now. Thank you for talking with me. I enjoyed it. Sleep well, Caliban."

She smiled at him, and was relieved that he smiled back at her like he had before she mentioned Frankenstein.

"You as well, Miss. Would you mind if I slept sitting up here?" he asked, blushing slightly. "The floor is…not good for sleeping."

"Not at all," Emily was quick to reply. "Although, given our circumstances, I understand if you want to lie down on the bed later, too."

Now it was her turn to blush. But she refused to dwell on it. It was a matter of practicality and kindness, and Emily knew Caliban would get that.

He nodded. "I do not think I will. I appreciate the offer, however. And Miss Emily," he added as she shifted once more so she could use her arm as a pillow.

"I may be gone when you wake tomorrow, but don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"That's alright. Thanks for letting me know. Good night, Caliban," she answered, her eyelids feeling heavy.

"Good night, Miss Emily," she heard Caliban answer. She felt the mattress shift as he made himself more comfortable.

Tomorrow, she thought, if I do nothing else besides tell him that story, I will find somewhere else to sleep and heal so the poor man can have his own cot back.

It was the least she could do at this point, she figured, until both her strength and memory returned. As she drifted off, she thought of her friend, Alex, again briefly. She felt a pang of sadness as she realized she missed him. Even if she couldn't recall how she knew him, he had to be very important to her for her to feel like that.

Alex, her last thought before falling asleep echoed through her mind, I'll see you again. Somehow. I promise.

I'm so sorry this took so long to update! I know this chapter was a lot of talk, but I wanted to show them getting to know each other better. For the record, I wrote the ending around midnight, so if something's off, lack of sleep is likely the culprit. But hey, I tried.

For the love of all that is sweet and deep-fried, please leave me a review! (Oh, and many thanks to those who have done so in the past. I hope you will continue to do so in the future.)