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In the darkness, Morse got to his feet and tried to piece together what had happened. As he stood up, glass crunched beneath his shoes, from the broken light bulb. As his thoughts calmed, he realised what had happened. As Jimmy had pulled Lewis back from the sink, Morse had seen Lewis turn and lunge, forcing the gun high, where it had gone off, and blown apart the light. Morse hit the floor, showered by the glass, while there had been a brief struggle. The gun had gone off a second time, and the fight was over.
Now, Morse quickly went to the hall, and switched on the light, which cast a dim glow into the kitchen. He could see Lewis, slumped on the floor, head in hands. Nearby, he could see Jimmy in profile, a bullet hole blown into his chest, the gun still in his own hand. Morse swallowed his revulsion, and hesitantly, gently laid his hand on Lewis's shoulder. He took a deep breath, able to feel the younger man trembling.
"Lewis?" Morse said, but his voice caught in his throat.
He cleared his throat and knelt down next to his sergeant.
"Robbie, look at me."
Slowly, Lewis raised his head, and in the light cast from the hall, Morse caught sight of the blood and bruises that marred his face.
"Robbie," Morse kept his voice soft, "I need to know – how much of this blood is yours?"
Lewis glanced down at his shirt as if seeing it for the first time. He looked at Morse in confusion, and turned to look at the body on the kitchen floor.
"No," Morse said, firmly, "look at me, Robbie. Is this yours?"
"Derringer's," Lewis whispered, hoarsely, his voice pained, "it's Derringer…he's…he's dead…"
"I know," Morse shushed him, "come on – let's get you somewhere more comfortable…"
Morse eased Lewis's arm over his shoulder and lifted him up, helping him through to the living room, where he got the Sergeant to lie down on the couch. Lewis lay there, barely conscious, and Morse was loathe to go out to the car to use his radio. Instead, he picked up the telephone and dialled 999.
"Chief Inspector Morse," he barked, at the operator, rattling off his badge number, "Get an ambulance out to this address…"
Satisfied that the urgency of the situation had been properly conveyed, Morse stood over the couch for a moment. There was a hand-knitted blanket discarded on a nearby chair, so Morse picked it up and spread it over Lewis in an attempt to stop him shivering. There was so much blood – clearly some of it belonged to Lewis, but Morse could not comprehend what the younger man must have been through to have ended up in this state. Lewis muttered something under his breath, and coughed harshly.
"Robbie?" Morse leaned in closer.
"P…please," Lewis groaned, "water…?"
Morse straightened up quickly. He had no desire to go back into the kitchen, with its grisly, dark scene, but concern won out. He went in, grabbed a glass from the worktop, and filled it quickly from the tap. He carried it through, and helped Lewis take a drink.
"Just sip it for now," Morse warned him, careful not to let him choke, "Robbie – what happened? Where the hell were you?"
"D…don't know," Lewis shook his head, slightly, and hissed in pain, "he… he threat…threatened… Val and the kids…the bastard…"
"Okay, Robbie, it's okay," Morse patted Lewis's shoulder gently, as he perched beside him on the edge of the couch, "he's not going to hurt anyone else. There's an ambulance on the way."
"Val? Where's our Val?"
"She's safe, Robbie, remember? She's in Gateshead, with the kids."
"Thank…thank God…"
Lewis shuddered under the blanket, and then went limp. Morse leaned forward, worriedly, clasping Lewis's shoulders.
"Robbie?" Morse gave the sergeant a gentle shake, "Lewis, wake up! Come on, you've got to stay with me…"
There was no response. Morse, hesitantly, reached out and checked for a pulse. He had to check again, but he found it, weak and irregular.
"Christ almighty," Morse murmured.
It seemed Lewis had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Morse was relieved to hear the wail of an approaching siren. He quickly got to his feet, straightened his tie, and went to the front door, waving in the two paramedics.
"Through there, on the sofa," he pointed.
Two squad cars pulled up alongside the ambulance and four officers scrambled out.
"Body in the kitchen," Morse snapped, quickly, and stepped back through into the lounge, almost crashing into one of the paramedics, who mumbled an apology and headed back towards the ambulance.
Morse stood behind the other paramedic, who was attempting to bring Lewis back to consciousness. The medic spared Morse a fleeting glance, and turned his attention back to his patient.
"What's his name?" the medic asked.
"Sergeant Lewis. Robbie Lewis," Morse corrected himself, "how is he?"
"He seems in a bad way," the medic shook his head, "there's a lot of blood."
"It's… it's not all his," Morse said, "at least, I don't think it is."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know," Morse said, folding his arms, "he was held hostage. I was hoping he'd be able to tell us."
"Any next of kin?"
"His wife is away. You'll report to me directly."
"Aye sir."
The other paramedic returned with a gurney, and the two of them gently lifted the unconscious Lewis onto the stretcher. Morse followed them out to the ambulance. One of the constables tried to ask a question, but Morse brushed him off and climbed in the back of the ambulance. The sirens screamed to life, and it sped off into the night.
A corridor, a hard plastic chair and a vending machine… This was what Morse's world had become. Nurses, doctors, patients and visitors swept passed him, ignoring the tired, white-haired, rumpled man who was sitting in a hard plastic chair drinking stale hot something from the vending machine. Eventually, he was joined by another man.
"Evening, sir," Morse said, at length.
"So you found him, then," Strange responded.
"No," Morse replied, "we'd never have found him if McMaster hadn't broken cover. It was McMaster, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Strange nodded, "do you want to tell me how he ended up with a kitchen knife in his ribs?"
There was no accusation in the tone, no anger or malice, only a calm, unspoken reassurance that things would be sorted out. Morse sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.
"McMaster didn't want to negotiate," Morse said, staring up at the ceiling, "he wanted me as a hostage instead of Lewis. He was going to shoot Lewis and take me. He'd threatened Lewis as well – said he was going to find Val and the kids."
"So what happened?"
Morse shrugged.
"I don't rightly know how he did it," he replied, distantly, "Lewis – I thought he was all done in, but… he forced the gun up – it went off – it was self defence, sir."
"I know," Strange nodded, slowly, "you'll need to make a statement."
"Not now," Morse said, quietly.
He sipped at his hot drink, still uncertain as to whether it was tea, coffee, hot chocolate or some kind of soup. It was possibly a combination of all four. Strange made a few attempts at small talk, tried to make Morse go home, and promised to try to contact Lewis's wife. Strange left, and Morse went back to his hot-something-drinking trance.
"Mr Morse?"
A voice penetrated his sleep-deprived brain. Morse blinked, yawned, stretched, and gazed blearily up at a man in a white coat who looked as tired as Morse felt.
"Morse," he replied, "it's just Morse. And you are…?"
"I'm Dr Milton," the man said, "you were waiting for some news on Mr Lewis?"
"Yes," Morse stood up expectantly.
"This way, please."
Dr Milton led Morse down some identical corridors until he was thoroughly lost, and ushered him into a side room. The lights were dimmed, but Morse could clearly make out the room. Lewis lay on the only bed, surrounded by machines and monitors. Morse could see the bruises on his face, as well as stark white bandages around his head and right wrist.
"Is he awake?" Morse asked, softly.
"No," Milton shook his head, "he hasn't regained consciousness since he came in."
"How bad is it?" Morse queried, not taking his eyes off the still form on the bed.
"Where do I start?" Milton sighed, "He's got several broken ribs, two broken fingers and a badly sprained wrist. He's had one hell of a beating – multiple contusions, a deep laceration to the temple and concussion to boot. There are abrasions around his wrists that suggest he was tied up, and he's malnourished, dehydrated and hypothermic. He's developed a secondary infection in his lungs as well, and he's feverish. What happened to him?"
"I don't know," Morse said, truthfully, "I almost don't want to know…"
"Sit with him awhile," Milton suggested, indicating a nearby armchair, "I'll be back to check on him every hour, but if anything happens, hit the panic button."
Morse murmured his thanks as the doctor slipped quietly out of the room. Morse stood in silence for a long moment, listening to the soft beeping of machinery. An IV tube snaked from a tall pole into the back of Lewis's left hand, and, careful not to disturb it, Morse pulled the armchair up to the right-hand side of the bed. He sat down and gazed at his sergeant. Lewis had been there for him every time he needed help or support, even if he hadn't asked for it or admitted it at the time. Why, then, had he not been able to help his sergeant in his hour of need?
Leaning back in the armchair, Morse felt hollow. He should have been glad to find that Lewis was alive, and he was, but it was a bitter pill to swallow to see him in this state. Even unconscious, Morse could see the pain on Lewis's face, and the bruises stood out darkly on his pale skin. Morse sighed, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. On the bedside table, someone had left a newspaper. Morse picked it up, took a pen from his pocket, and set to work on the crosswords.
Morse groaned, shifted uncomfortably, and blinked slowly, trying to remember where he was. He groaned again to realise that he'd fallen asleep in the armchair, and he stretched, feeling his spine click in protest in several places. He reflected that he really could do with a shower and a decent cup of tea. Then, his eyes fell on the bed, and he had to suppress the urge to grin. Lewis was looking up at him with an expression of vague confusion.
"Hey," Morse said, "how are you feeling?"
Lewis blinked a couple of times, glancing down at the IV tube and the bandages around his wrist and his strapped fingers. Then he looked back at Morse.
"You look terrible," he commented, his voice little more than a croak.
Morse let out a bark of a laugh, and picked up a cup of water from the bedside table, holding it out. Lewis took it in his left hand, and, shakily, managed to take a drink. Morse rescued the cup before it had a chance to spill, as Lewis fell back on the pillow, energy spent.
"What happened?" he asked, quietly, at last.
Morse recounted what little he knew, and then listened as Lewis haltingly talked through everything that he could remember. Eventually, Morse held up his hand.
"Enough," he said, "You get some sleep. Don't worry about Val and the kids – as soon as they get back we're going to put them up in a safe house. They'll be fine."
"Thanks," Lewis whispered, as he drifted back off to sleep, "as long as they're okay…"
Morse waited until the sergeant was asleep again, before he went out to make his report, promising himself he would be back as soon as he could.
A week later, Morse collected Lewis from the hospital, with Val in tow. The bruises had faded a little and he looked slightly less gaunt, but the young man moved slowly and his face was still pale. Still, he seemed pleased to be out of the hospital. Morse gallantly held the back door of his Jaguar open to allow Val to get in, before he climbed into the driving seat.
"I guess we're in temporary housing for a while," Lewis sighed, as they drove, "you were saying you wanted a bigger place for the kids, love – looks like we'll be moving after all."
"I'm sure we'll find something," Val replied, optimistically.
Morse nodded slowly, letting them make small talk. He had kept details of all that had happened that night to himself. Lewis could not clearly remember everything, and Morse did not seen fit to enlighten him. Still, it was hard to gloss over what had happened in full, and Lewis was understandably reluctant to take his family back to the home where he had been abducted, assaulted and where a man had died.
"Morse has been very kind," Val was saying to her husband, "we've been staying in a very nice three-bed semi."
Lewis merely spared his boss a small smile, and Morse caught the expression from the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat, briskly.
"I don't know what you're grinning at, sergeant," he said, lightly, "the paperwork is piling up at the office for you, and you owe me a drink."
"Aye, sir," Lewis was still smiling as he leaned back in the seat, and closed his eyes.
They drove in silence for a while. Eventually, Lewis stirred slightly, looking a bit sheepish at having dozed off.
"Where are we going?" he asked, sleepily.
"Not far now, love," Val replied, reassuringly.
A few minutes later, Morse's Jaguar pulled into the driveway of a neat, semi-detached house. Lewis was surprised, and pleased, to find his car was also parked on the drive, though he had to suppress a shudder as he recalled travelling in its boot. A little unsteadily, he climbed out of the car, and stood for a moment to regain his balance. There was a steadying hand on his elbow, and he glanced down into the eyes of Val. He tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, despite the weakness he felt.
"Well, this is nice, isn't it?" he commented, trying to keep tiredness out of his voice.
As if on cue, the front door opened, and his son and daughter came flying out, followed by one of the WPC's from the station.
"Daddy!" screamed his son.
"Kids, no! Be careful!" Val called, but it was too late.
They collided excitedly with their father, who was so pleased to see them that he swept them both up in an embrace. Val managed to prise them away and usher them back inside as Lewis leaned against his car, gasping slightly.
"Will you join us for a drink, sir?" the sergeant said, quickly pulling himself upright when he saw Morse watching him, "I'm sure Val's got beer in the cupboard."
Morse hesitated slightly. He was fairly sure that Lewis just wanted to rest and that he and Val would want some peace and quiet. Lewis, however, was having none of it, and was already calling to Val to get out some beer. She was shouting at him that he wasn't allowed any, and one of the kids had started crying and was being comforted by the WPC. There was a tug on his sleeve, and Morse glanced down to find the little girl, Lynn, was looking up at him.
"Mummy says to come inside and close the door 'cos it's getting cold," she said, authoritatively.
With a wordless shrug, Morse followed her inside. After all they had been through, a beer would be just what he needed.
"Will you join us for dinner, Morse?" Val smiled at him as she pulled her son off Lewis as she ushered her husband onto the couch in the living room.
"Well, I…"
"Great!" Val said, brightly, without really waiting for the response, "I hope you like roast beef. Kids! Give your father some space, will you? Would you like a beer? Robbie, sit down before you fall down! A beer?"
"Err, yes, please," Morse replied.
At a loss, he allowed Val to shepherd him into the living room, where he was nudged into a very comfortable armchair, and a beer appeared in his hand. Confused, he sat there for a moment, and then took a mouthful of the beer. Lewis was sitting on the couch, clearly exhausted.
"You've been signed off for two weeks medical leave," Morse informed him, "Strange has given you and your family the use of this house for as long as you need it."
Lewis gaped at him for a moment, and then nodded.
"Thank you, sir," he said, at last, "and… thanks. For coming after me."
"You were the one who saved both our lives," Morse pointed out, bluntly.
"But if you hadn't come to the house…" Lewis shook his head, unable to continue.
Morse waved his hand dismissively. For a long moment, they sat quietly.
"Thanks, though," the Geordie sergeant said, sleepily.
Morse smiled as Lewis began to nod off on the couch.
"And you," he murmured.
Sitting in the armchair in a borrowed house and sipping at a beer which his sergeant slept on the couch, Morse reflected that, all in all, things had turned out well in the end.


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subset: commoncrawl


text:
First off, an apology. I am sooooo sorry for how long it took to update. It took twice as long as it should have, but luckily the chapter is twice as long as well. You can probably guess what happens in this chapter, but it doesn't happen until well at the end. For all who are out there reading this as well, HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Thank you to the reviewers of this story, RushMaiden, and Bookworm Gal. Thank you to shadow-of-the-phoenix 7 as well for following this story, and all of the rest of you out there who are following this. I really appreciate it. And now, without further ado, enjoy! CAUTION: This chapter has one curse word in it from the movie.
When I reach the first set of hallways, I make as if to turn to my right. I'm trying to find my way back to the library when I hear Nemo call after me.
"Miss Riley, we are going to be meeting in a moment to discuss the next move now that we are on our way, if you would like to come. You are part of the League, and you might wish to be present," he suggests. I turn and nod, hurrying to catch up with him. I wonder what it is that's happening now. Did we get new information?
Nemo gathers the rest of the League, those who haven't already left, then leads us to another conference room with a desk in it, leaving Quatermain, Sawyer, Jekyll, Skinner and I alone for a moment while he goes to get Mina and Dorian, who seem to have already wandered back to their quarters.
We sit there in silence for a minute. No one seems to be in a talking mood, and it seems a little strange to me. Either we're all spacing out, or lost in thought, or we have something to say and we're just too afraid to say it. Whatever the case is, the silence is choking, and I wish I could break it.
What do you think we're doing? I write in the journal, tapping on Skinner. He shrugs. "Who knows? Knowing us freaky darlings, we could be talking about anything from the Fantom to the advantages of fur lined parkas," he mutters. I laugh lightly.
Just then, Nemo comes in with Mina and Dorian. Neither of them looks particularly pleased, and Mina actually looks annoyed. I bite back a grin, sensing that it's best not to laugh at an annoyed vampyre, if I value my life.
But your real life isn't here, a voice in the back of my mind points out. Oh, shut it, I think back. I know it may be true, but I don't have the time to worry about that right now. No matter where my 'real life' is, and the true 'reality' lies, I am here right now, so it's kind of a moot point what's going on in my real life. Not like that's anything interesting anyways.
"So, Nemo," Dorian says after a moment of watching the Captain shuffle around. "What exactly are we here for?"
"To decide what we are doing, Mr. Gray," Nemo answers.
"If I may ask, Captain, how are we to do that? Have we received information recently?" Mina questions politely.
"You could say that," Nemo responds, laying out a book on the table and opening it. "The plans the Fantom stole from the Bank of England. These are copies, da Vinci's blueprints of Venice - its foundations and waterways," Nemo says, pointing to different parts of the map. Everyone looks over at the map lightly, though none of the League members seem to show any particular interest in it. In fact the only one who deigns to speak is, shockingly enough, Quatermain. "So you think he'll attack the conference by sea?" he asks Nemo. The old captain gives him a look with dark brown eyes, his expression saying that that's exactly what he thinks will happen.
There is a heavy silence. All the different members of the League seem to be lost in thought, though it's dubious at best to say that they're all thinking about the matter at hand. Dorian is toying with his cane, Sawyer is leaning on his gun and aside from Mina, is about the only person who seems half engaged. "That's wonderful," Skinner finally sighs. Jekyll jumps, startled out of whatever he was just brooding about. Probably his alter ego. "So what're we going to do about it?"
"Well that's easy," Sawyer says, standing up a little. "We stop him." Skinner raises a greasepaint covered eyebrow.
"Really? I thought we were going to invite him over for tea," Skinner remarks, sounding amused.
"Your sarcasm is not necessary, Mr. Skinner," Mina says a little sharply.
"How are we going to stop the Fantom though? Planning on asking him peacefully to give up the ghost?"
Sawyer shrugs. "That's the real question, I guess," he comments.
"Well, the real question is probably what he's going to be doing," Quatermain cuts in. "And that we don't know. One of us should study the plans to try and discover what the Fantom could be doing," he points out.
How are we going to do that when we don't even know how the Fantom does what he does, much less his motivations of why? I question, writing in the journal and tapping on Quatermain.
He scoffs. "It seems like a better idea than no preparation, don't you think?" I shrug. Sure, I guess so. But what good is preparation if you're preparing wrong?
Quatermain scowls at me. "Would you like to voice to us all a better idea, then, Miss Riley?" he asks, somewhat tauntingly. My jaw drops in shock, and then I close it. This may be the age of women being considered as subservient idiots, but it takes all I have not to write some cutting remark back. It's not my fault I can't speak and am a girl, after all, and he has no right to act like I'm some kind of imbecile because of it. So instead, I glare at him, then turn and walk away. I have nothing to say to Quatermain, and obviously my inability to talk makes anything I do have to say silly anyways, and so I leave. It's not like I'll be able to change his mind. The only person who'd be able to change the views of that stubborn old mule would be God himself, and that was even questionable.
By some subconscious whim, I somehow find myself back where Skinner was teaching me to fight earlier. Mina's knives still lay where I left them, unreturned still. I pick one up, looking at the sack of potatoes Skinner had found to practice on, and I walk away from the target, then turn to face it again. I think of the invisible thief's advice from earlier. Follow through with your hand pointing where you're aiming. Throw handle first. Carefully, I aim, then toss the knife. It misses by a mile. I sigh inwardly, then go to pick it up, trying again and again. I consistently fail, but it gets my mind off of the problem at hand. I finally try one last time, aiming carefully, trying to remember everything Skinner was telling me. Okay, I think. Now ready…aim…
"What happened to throwing from your wrist?" A voice says just as I throw the knife, causing it to go high and bounce off the steel of the ship. I turn to see Skinner leaning in the doorway, looking amused. "You forgot this," he says, waving the journal he gave me earlier in the air, then handing it to me.
Thanks, I write, giving him a small smile.
"You're welcome," he says. "Now, truly, what happened to your wrist? Is it no longer usable?"
Ha, ha, very funny, I write sarcastically. I'm trying to remember. I just don't have much experience in any kind of combat ability.
"That's why I'm trying to teach you. With our band of freaky darlings, it could come in handy," he says.
It'd be nice to say that it will help the other's views, but I don't think anything will change Quatermain's opinion. I'm just a mute girl who wears boy's clothes, I sigh, twirling the pen in my fingers.
Skinner chuckles. "Keep working on the fighting, and you can show them you're not weak. Besides, I wouldn't worry about how the old grouch thinks. Unless you like hunting something to the ends of the Earth, he doesn't like much. He isn't much for me either."
I laugh. Yeah, I can tell.
"Now, try throwing from your wrist," Skinner suggests. I do as he says, and I almost hit the bag. I try again, and this time I get the corner, but the knife grazes it so slightly that it makes no difference.
"You're getting closer," Skinner comments. "Keep trying." And so I do. I keep throwing the knife until finally I hit almost right in the center of the bag. I turn with a grin, only to find the floating coat and hat that was Skinner gone. The invisible thief seems to have a talent for slipping away unnoticed. I shake my head, then decide to leave the knife where it is. Then if I remember, I can show Skinner, or at least practice again later.
I walk quietly around the Nautilus. Any other time, I'd probably go to the library, but it holds no pull for me right now, which is a new feeling. I feel a little too restless to go dive into a new book, and meander the ship. The place is like a maze, and I have no idea where exactly I'm trying to go, but I just keep making random turns, until eventually I have no idea where I am. But somehow, I've ended up at something that looks almost like a monument.
There are a couple flowers looking fresh by a faded photograph of a woman and two children. Confused, I lean over and examine the picture closer, and it's only then that I notice the other figure in the back of the photo.
Nemo… But what happened to the others? The way that the image seems to be part of a monument gives me the idea that something tragic befell them. Either way, I feel almost uncomfortable, as if I'm prying into something highly personal from Nemo's life.
Silently and respectfully, I back away and leave the room the way I've found it, racking my brains and trying to think of what I know about Nemo until finally I remember a book I read a couple years ago, The Mysterious Island. Nemo was Prince Dakkar, and his wife and children had been murdered in some kind of revolution that I couldn't remember the name of, causing him to build the Nautilus, take to the seas and never look back. True, he was a pirate in some instances, yet only in the best of ways.
I stop for a moment, feeling truly sorry for the old Captain. Remembering his history only makes me the more surprised that he joined onto this venture at all, given his distaste for the Empire. Were I him, I never would have joined in, especially not with Quatermain, since the first words he ever spoke towards Nemo were to call him a pirate. Even though he probably had extreme amounts of patience, the fact that Nemo could tolerate Quatermain was shocking to me, especially since the old man was pretty much the very embodiment of everything that Nemo disliked about humanity and the Empire.
Bringing myself back to the present, I realize that, while lost in my thoughts, I've probably just gotten myself even more lost than I was before. Sure enough, ten minutes of desperately trying to retrace my steps and I consistently end up back where I started. Sighing, I lean back against the wall for a minute. Leave it to me to get lost in a huge ship, in about the only part of it that didn't have a bunch of people going through it that I could ask for directions.
I look down at the floor, wondering what I'm going to do now, when I notice footprints. A smile creeps onto my face. I've been trying to find my way back to the cabin by memory, but maybe, I could use the footprints to lead me back. It's worth a shot.
At first, I end up following the wrong footprints and going in circles again, but after a few tries, I finally end up on the right track, and I follow the prints, looking at the ground until finally I reach more familiar territory.
Smiling, I look up. It's probably around suppertime, but I'm not sure. Oh well. If Nemo's past behaviour is any sign, then he'll probably assemble the League when we're ready to eat. In the meantime, I need something else to do, something that doesn't concern getting lost on the Nautilus. I've just passed into an intersection of hallways when a door at the end of the hall opens. Quatermain is standing there, his hand looking like he's holding a mischievous schoolboy by the neck, provided the schoolboy is invisible. Invisible…
"Skinner," Quatermain begins. "I want you dressed at all times, eh?" he asks, shoving forward. A coat rack beside me tips precariously and nearly falls over, but I catch it just in time, stumbling backward. "Or it's my boot up your ass!"
"Old grouch," Skinner mutters, and the coat rack straightens with some invisible help. "You all right?" Skinner asks, taking his coat and hat and putting them on. I'm fine, I write. You?
"I'm still in one piece, though I think if Quatermain had his way, he'd change that," Skinner comments.
What were you trying to do? I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Trying to be an invisible thief and steal Matilda," Skinner says. I look at him questioningly. Matilda…Who's Matilda? "His gun," Skinner replies. "He gave his gun a name, and I was going to just float it out the door and try and lighten the mood around here. That worked out well," he mutters. I bust out laughing at the image of Skinner taking Quatermain's gun and making it float out of the room out of the blue. My laugh is really weird though, and it sounds vaguely like I have the hiccups. Skinner stares at me strangely, until finally he joins in, and we stay like that for a minute, laughing until I cry.
When I can breathe again, I wipe my eyes and grin. That felt good, I giggle. You're crazy.
Skinner chuckles. "Oh, I'm the crazy one, am I? I wasn't the one standing out on the wet railing of the Nautilus like a gargoyle this morning," he says, raising an eyebrow. I think of my earlier venture, and feel the blood rush to my face in embarrassment.
You saw that? I write. Skinner nods. How did I not see you?
"Invisible, remember?" Skinner points out. I bite my lip and look at the ground. Didn't see that one coming. I look up again, face red.
"It was a good kind of crazy," Skinner says. "Even if it was a somewhat life-threatening type."
I guess so… I write, still feeling embarrassed.
"Riley, you're about to run into another wall. Look up," Skinner warns. When I look up, I realize that we've come to my room, and I wonder how Skinner knows where it is. His knowledge probably has something to do with the fact that I almost ran into him right outside of the cabin this morning.
Sorry, I write. I'm a bit uncoordinated. Skinner raises his eyebrows. "Nice to know. Well, try not to end up in pieces because of your uncoordination for a while. You won't be able to do much against the Fantom if you're in the infirmary," he says.
I crack a smile, then wave goodbye at him. Thanks for the lessons, I write. Skinner nods. "You're welcome," he says, and then I head into the room. When I peek out a couple minutes later, the invisible thief's jacket is hanging on the coat rack, and he's nowhere to be seen.
I have no idea where he's gone off to, but I know that I get a brilliant idea, and I take Skinner's coat and hat from the coat rack and stick it in my room, coming out just as one of Nemo's men, Ishmael if I'm not mistaken, comes up and tells me that dinner is served. I nod, picking up my journal. When he starts to head back to the dining area, I tap on his shoulder, confused. What of the others? I ask.
Ishmael looks down at me and shrugs. "They asked to take the meal in their cabins." I nod, and write no more, following him to the dining area. I wonder why no one wants to assemble over a meal. It strikes me as odd that we are a group of eight people who are supposed to be fighting in battle together to protect a city and kill off a supervillain that is far more terrifying than the ones that I used to believe in from the comics and horror books in a matter of mere days, yet we can't even take the time to eat in a group at one time.
When we get to the dining hall, it is only to discover that Captain Nemo has had little more luck than Ishmael in gathering League members. Sawyer, Quatermain, and I are the only ones aside from Nemo and Ishmael who have taken the time to eat together. Despite my previous thoughts, at the very least, I wish that Quatermain, of all members, would have chosen differently. I still have no desire to speak with him, which is good because, as he so tactfully pointed out, I can't.
"Where is everyone?" Nemo asks, perplexed. Ishmael bows slightly. "They all asked to eat in their cabins." Sawyer sighs. "We may be a League, but we're sure not a team," he mutters, pushing away from the table. He has a valid point, and I can't agree more, but the reasons for it are so blatantly obvious to me that it's laughable. Maybe it's just because I'm so used to watching from the sidelines that I notice that kind of thing.
The League can't be a team because we're so separate. We're lost in battling our own demons, and pushing people away. Quatermain pushes away anything that isn't male with a gun. Jekyll is constantly battling his alter ego, from what I can tell. Skinner isn't easily welcomed by most of the others- he's not only invisible, but a thief, for crying out loud. Mina is a vampire, and that's demon enough. Dorian, for whatever reason, has a serious superiority complex, and that shoves everything away, no matter what it is. Nemo has memories of his family and running the Nautilus to contend with. About the only one who seems approachable to everyone is Sawyer, but Quatermain's chosen him out of the entire League to be halfway decent to, so no one dares to go up to say hi. We're so utterly divided amongst ourselves…How could we ever be more than a League?
I shake my head, picking up an apple and tossing it gently in my hand, making a small game of it until I notice everyone looking at me strangely and finally start to eat at it. "So how long until Venice?" Sawyer finally asks. Nemo nods. "We should be upon it the day after tomorrow," he says.
Sawyer looks dubious, and I agree with him that arriving the next evening is probably cutting it a little close. However, I have no other ideas, and I'm confident Nemo has his head firmly on his shoulders. If there was a way to get us to Venice earlier, Nemo of all people would find it. The old Captain was doing the best he could. We just have to trust Nemo- what else is there for us to do?
When I finish with my apple, I hang around awkwardly in the background. I know I could probably leave if I wanted, but I feel like there's nothing better to do, and it seems a little rude just to up and leave. So I wait until there is a pause in the conversation, then I cautiously go up to Nemo and tap his shoulder lightly.
Can I head back to my cabin, Captain Nemo? I request. Nemo nods. I give him a small smile, and bow a little before leaving, trying to remember which way it is to my room. It's far easier than I thought it would be, which is in part due to the fact that I must be getting used to traveling the Nautilus.
It isn't until I'm back in the cabin that I realize just how tired I am. With a yawn, I make the bed and am asleep almost before my head hits the pillow, dropping me into the landscape of dreams once more.
"What is wrong with her?" My mom's voice sounds anguished. I am once more in the darkness, where I can hear but not act upon anything. I want to reach out to my mother, tell her just how sorry I am, that I'm just fine, but I can do nothing. Instead, I'm forced to listen to her worried voice.
"We don't know," a different, somehow analytical voice responds. "We've done scans, we've done tests, we've analyzed her charts into nothing, but there's nothing that we can find to explain why her condition won't stay stable."
"There must be something, Doctor," the voice of my father cuts in.
"If there is, we don't know what it is. I'm sorry, but at this time, your daughter's survival all depends on her will to live."
"But," Mom stutters. "I don't get it. If it depends on her will to live, why does her condition keep getting worse? Why would she not want to live?"
It's the month of my junior prom, and my Mom looks out the corner of her eye at me. "Hey, Riley," she says. "Are you going to prom?"
The idea is laughable, and I shake my head violently. I don't do any kind of social, not for years. The idea of having to pretend to care about who's dating who, punch and pizza, pretending I really like being at some over glorified party horrifies me. Mom laughs.
"Oh, come on, you know you want to," she says. "It would be so fun! Hanging out with friends, getting to be a teenager…I loved my prom," Mom promises. You also could talk, I think. I shake my head again.
"Why not?" Mom asks. I point at my book and make a thumbs up. Mom frowns. "You won't go because that's a good book?" she questions, trying to process. I nod. She laughs a little disbelievingly. "You are kidding, right? You want to miss out on a rite of passage like prom for a book?" I nod again. She sighs angrily.
"I don't get it Riley. Why can't you even try to be normal? You're always living in books instead of reality. When are you going to come out of your stories, and come back to me?"
I wake up then, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Once again, it would appear I've woken up before the sun. I haven't figured out yet why my internal clock insists on waking me up so early. I blink, yawning as I go through my morning routine again, and I'm asleep before I even remember my dream again. I consider it as I head quietly out of the hall, going over to the slightly ajar door that I found yesterday, heading up to watch the sunrise again. Nemo is there once more, and I feel almost bad for bothering him. I walk silently up to the railing and stare out at the sea.
I remember the prom from the dream. I ended up going after all, in a forest green floral dress. Mom picked me up about an hour and a half after she dropped me off, my dress torn and muddy from falling when some of the others chased me clear through the forest prom was by. She never tried to convince me to go to another dance after that disaster.
I think of her questions. Why wouldn't she want to live? I wonder if she would ever guess that it's not like I don't want to live. I'm just not sure where I want to be at. Maybe I don't even have a real choice. But if I did have a choice, I don't even know what I would choose. My old life, or this new one full of adventure? The family I used to know, or those who I'm meeting now? I have no clue.
I wonder if Mom ever would have guessed just how relevant her question about me coming out of my stories would be about now. I really am living in a story now, at least partially. I still haven't decided if it was more fun to read about the adventures. It certainly was safer.
I wonder what we'll be doing today. Maybe Quatermain has made some kind of progress on figuring out what he thinks the Fantom will be doing. I guess I'll find out later. In the meantime, I don't want to think of what happens next. I just want to think of the peace of the moment, watching the sun slowly come up on a new day.
An hour must have passed before I finally head back down into the Nautilus, trying to see what awaits me now. Luckily enough, I don't run into anyone immediately, and have just enough time to make it into my room before the resident haughty immortal makes his way down the hall. Sitting down on the bed, I almost sit on Skinner's coat, and I remember that I was planning on messing with him today, as I don his jacket, which is just a little too long and put on his hat. I flip up the collar of the jacket, tucking my hair under it and grin at the mirror. Between the hat and the jacket, I look a little like Skinner.
Still smiling, I walk out into the hall, headed towards the dining room. Before I get too far, I successfully run into Skinner, who is wearing a different, lighter color coat and turns to look at me, in his real jacket.
"There's where those went!" Skinner exclaims. "What are you doing with my clothes?"
I pull out the journal. Impersonating you. Look, I'm Skinner! I grin as he reads my handwriting.
Skinner laughs. "You're a little too visible to be me. Can I have them back now?" I grin wider and shake my head. Nope.
"Riley!" he calls, one of his hands trying to take the hat off my head. I duck and laugh just as he tries to get it. Skinner tries again, and I take off running. I can hear him behind me, and I laugh, running harder while he keeps telling me to give him his clothing back. Skinner ends up chasing me halfway around the Nautilus when I finally run into a dead end, and he swipes the hat back, sounding a little out of breath as he puts it back on, then sticks his hand out for the coat. I sigh, making a face then giving it back to him.
"You're a fast runner," he says, buttoning it up. I shrug. Thanks, I write on the wall, not bothering to pull out the journal. What's the point? Skinner nods, but doesn't reply. There's really nothing to say, and so we just head towards the dining hall, grabbing some fruits and munching on them quietly. We're eating out on the deck when Skinner sighs.
"This is nice," he comments. I nod, looking out as the light sparkles on the waves. It's pretty, I write agreeably. I look over at Skinner, and find him staring blankly out at the ocean, as we lean over the railing, some water spraying up onto my face.
There's silence for some time, and then I can hear the soft thumping of boots on the tread leading up to the deck of the Natuilus. Skinner and I have been alone for the last bit of time. Skinner straightens up silently, slowly.
"Well, if you get a chance, you should work on your knife throwing," he suggests suddenly. I nod. I probably will, I write. "Throw from your wrist," he reminds. I nod again.
What are you doing? I ask. Skinner shrugs.
"I'll probably go and annoy our band of freaky darlings a bit," he says. I nod. See you, I write, waving and smiling. Skinner nods, tipping his hat slightly to me then heading back down just as Mina comes up.
I look out calmly at the waves, and Mina walks out beside me, still standing prim and proper, as if any lapse of etiquette would end horrifically. I smile at her, and after a moment, she returns the gesture with a small, stiff smile of her own. It's not much, but it's something. I think about my memories of every good vampyre story I've ever read, and a small part of me wonders why Mina hasn't exploded into flames or something yet. The better part decides not to ask, certain that Mina would tell me if it was my business, which it most certainly is not. However, it does interest me why on earth Mina got interested in chemistry, of all things to do with her immortal life, even back in 1899.
Mrs. Harker? I write, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns to look at me, and raises one eyebrow politely, reading my words. "Yes?" she asks.
How did you end up interested in chemistry? Mina raises her eyebrows again, and something flickers in her eyes for a moment, then disappears as if it were never there. Mina blinks. "There are not enough women in this age who work for themselves. I mean only to bring up the count, and chemistry is a fairly entertaining field to do such in," she replies, her voice prim. I nod understandingly, even though I'm doubtful that she's giving me the whole story.
What kind of stuff do you do? I ask. I was taking a chemistry class when current circumstances placed me here in my new story.
Wait…my new story? I think. When the heck did I decide this was my story, and not some kind of a vacation? My real story is somewhere on the other side of the future, resting at the other end of eternity in a hospital bed. At least, I think that's my real story. Oh, crimeny, who cares? I mutter in my mind, then turn to look at Mina, who looks like she's ready to respond to my question when Nemo comes up behind her and touches her lightly. "Mrs. Harker, could I speak with you?" Mina turns.
"Yes, Nemo?" she asks, her expression betraying no emotion as she goes to talk to the Captain. He glances around distrustfully for a moment, making me wonder why before he starts to talk to Mrs. Harker in a low voice. As he's talking, Quatermain comes up with his gun from below, and I instantly think of Skinner last night, trying to steal Matilda, and have to bite my lip from busting out laughing. Quatermain gives me a strange look, not that that's anything new, and yet I still can't hide my smile. But there are far too many people coming, and my restlessness from this morning has faded, leaving me with an urge to go hunt out Nemo's library and just read until someone finds me and tells me to stop.
So, I head down to the well stocked literary haven of the Nautilus and try to lose myself in a book. Shockingly enough, I succeed. I am dead to the world, and I begin to find myself living in yet another story, burying myself in the peace and quiet of turning pages while the rest of the League lives out their lives.
It's probably well after noon when I emerge from my hiding place and return to actual life aboard the Nautilus. I'm actually headed to see about returning outside, maybe having something from the dining room for lunch when I run across Mina and Quatermain. They're staring down the hall at something, though the identity of that something is beyond me until I creep quietly behind them and Captain Nemo comes into view.
His normal outfit of blue has been replaced with one of white, and he draws a sword out, kneeling down and leaning by it in some kind of ritual. He sits in some kind of a white sanctuary, the only real decoration within being a statue of a goddess that looks vaguely familiar. For the life of me, I can't recall the name of her though. Or maybe it was a him. I don't really remember.
"That's Kali, goddess of Death," I hear Mina whisper. Kali, I think. That's what the name was. "Nemo worships Death. Can we trust him?" I give her a look, even though I know she can't see. This is the same stuff that drove me crazy in my old life- people arguing about religion and worship and if following one god made you any better, worse or more trustworthy than someone following another deity. It was all very confusing to me then, and nothing's changed now.
I listen closely as Quatermain leans slightly towards Mina. "He's not the one I'm worried about," he whispers to her. Then he walks off as Nemo turns around and gazes at Mina from down the hall with dark brown eyes, deep and full of secrets, closing the doors to his sanctuary as he stares down at her in the thundering silence. They close with a soft click, and Mina continues to stare at the doors. I think of Quatermain's comment. He's not the one I'm worried about. I can honestly say for once that I agree with Quatermain, that Nemo has only the best intentions and is not worthy of any kind of distrust. I firmly believe the old captain is a man of his word, and any feelings of dishonesty from him are misconceptions. But then to whom was Quatermain referring? Dr. Jekyll, with his alter ego? Or perhaps Dorian, who to me seems sly and cold and calculating, not at all loyal? Or does he mean Skinner, the invisible thief, purely because he has the best grounds for sneaking about?
I shake my head, then jump as Mina turns around and looks at me. "What were you asking about up on deck earlier this morning, Riley?" she inquires, as if nothing has happened. For the briefest of moments, I admire her for her evident ability to let her mind switch tracks so easily.
I was just wondering what kind of things you do with chemistry. Do you have to make things explode? I write. Mina gives me a sharp look.
"No, I do not make things explode." She spits out the word like it's poison. "I'm actually working on identifying a powder now, if you would like to come and see what I do." I nod cautiously. "Follow me then," she says, briskly walking off and leaving me to follow her.
Eventually, we come to a room, and Mina opens the door, gesturing me inside impatiently. I do as told and gawk in awe at all the lab equipment. It seems that all sizes and shapes of beakers and test tubes are well represented, along with a small case that looks like it has chemicals in it. There's so many, I write. How do you keep track of all this? I ask.
"In my time, I've learned a few tricks for memorizing and organizing, both of which are vital to my pastime as a chemist," she replies. "It becomes easier as you go along."
I nod. So what do you do with all this? With the powder, how do you identify that sort of thing? Mina nods and considers my question for a moment.
"A lot of it is mixing and testing. You see, certain chemicals have certain reactions to different tests, which can identify them. However, quite a few have the same reaction, but the more tests you perform, the more you narrow your search, and the greater chance you stand of identifying your powder," she says, carefully measuring out bits and pieces of various assorted chemicals and mixing them with the mystery powder.
Do you ever get the chemicals confused? I begin to write when a smooth, dark voice speaks from nowhere, causing me to jump and screw up my lettering.
"Mina," Dorian says, leaning in the doorway. He shoots me a look of pure venom.
"Dorian," she replies, her voice betraying nothing. I look between the two of them, remembering what Skinner said about lover's reunions and those two. I blink, then hurriedly scribble something in my journal. I should probably go. Thanks for showing me your chemistry equipment, I write. Mina reads it and nods, and I hurry out of the room before I see more of the 'lover's reunion' than I want to.
Thinking of Skinner makes me realize I haven't seen the invisible thief in a little bit, and on the way out of Mina's room, while considering this, I almost run into Dr. Jekyll. Sorry, I write out. I wasn't looking where I was going. Dr. Jekyll shakes his head.
"That's all right. How is your head?" he asks, gesturing to my wound. I grin. It's doing fine. You did a good job cleaning it. Thank you, I write. Something flashes in his eyes that I can only guess at, something that I'm sure is of the nature that 'I wouldn't have a wound if not for his alter ego'. "Yes, you're welcome," he says absently.
Have you seen Skinner? I question.
"No, I'm afraid I've not seen any sign of the invisible man anywhere recently, though that's hardly uncommon considering his condition," Dr. Jekyll says. I shrug. True enough. Thanks anyway, I write, and then head off on my way to try and find Skinner. No matter who I ask, or where I look, it would seem no one has found hide nor hair of him for a while now.
I'm about to give up my search when I run into Nemo. He's back in his normal clothing, no sign of the somber fare he was wearing for his little ceremony earlier today. I bow slightly to him, and he gives a small smile in return before heading on his way, scarcely stopping to acknowledge my presence. He seems to be in some kind of a hurry. I keep walking until finally, I find Sawyer. I wave at him, grinning.
"Hey Riley," he says. "How are you?"
I'm fine, I write. And you?
"Still breathing."
I laugh at that. What are you doing though?
Sawyer leans on his gun. "Actually, I'm just headed down for a meeting with Captain Nemo and Quatermain, and whoever else we might be able to find from the League," he says. "You're part of the League. You coming?" I hesitate, thinking of the last time I was in a meeting with Quatermain, then nod. I'm not going to hide from him forever.
As I walk with Sawyer down towards whatever conference room this is going to be in now, we're silent. I don't know what Sawyer's thinking about, but I'm still trying to figure out where in the devil Skinner went. He may be invisible, but so far, he hasn't disappeared quite like this.
When we reach the meeting, Quatermain and Nemo are already there, leaning over the blueprints of Venice.
"So you think that he'd try something like that?" Quatermain asks.
"It would not surprise me," Nemo responds, looking up.
"What'd we miss?" Sawyer questions.
Quatermain straightens. "Nothing much. I was just telling Nemo about what I was thinking the Fantom would do based upon the blueprints."
I nod, and so does Sawyer. "I got it," he says. "What'd you discover, Columbus?" he asks jokingly. Quatermain gives him a confused look, as does Nemo. "Never mind," Sawyer shakes his head. "What'd you find out?"
"Only reassuring that this Fantom would use the path of most destruction in Venice. It's a city built on water, and it has room for plenty of destruction," Quatermain says.
"If he's attacking by sea though, why would he need the blueprints of Venice to figure out the capacity of destruction? I mean, it's hard to miss the canals," Sawyer says.
He'd obviously need to know where to place the bomb. If the Fantom had those plans, imagine the damage he could do, I write just as Quatermain says something similar. Scary...We're thinking on the same wavelength.
"So it's clear," Nemo says. "With da Vinci's blueprints and enough explosives, he could set a bomb that would blow Venice's foundations to rubble."
Sawyer looks horrified. "He's gonna sink the whole city!" he exclaims.
"Yes, and spark off his world war," Quatermain agrees, gesturing to the blueprints.
The voice of Dr. Jekyll pops out of the blue, startling me and causing me to turn around. "I'm afraid that's not the sum of our problems." Quatermain and Nemo look interested, turning to look at the doctor, encouraging him to continue.
"Skinner," he says. "He's taken a vial of my formula."
His words drop like a stone. Did he really just accuse Skinner of stealing his formula? What on Earth could Skinner want with a vial of the formula that created Hyde? Besides, he knew that Jekyll would jump to conclusions if a vial went missing and freak out. He may be an invisible thief, but he's not cruel, and he wouldn't do that to a fellow League member. At least, I don't think he would.
"Are you sure?" Quatermain asks, and I almost smile. Does he really have a sliver of doubt?
"Who else?" Jekyll growls. "You've seen how the sneaky blackguard operates."
My jaw drops in anger. What proof does Jekyll have? There is a long silence that stretches out, in which my doubt in Skinner's guilt only grows. Jekyll has no proof and Skinner has no reason to take the elixir. Something doesn't add up.
"Well, Riley, I guess we know where Skinner is," Sawyer finally says. No, we don't, I write. We have no proof that he is the thief, and even if we did, we still wouldn't know.
"Isn't it obvious where he's at?" Quatermain asks. "The filthy traitor is hiding. He's only brave when people don't know he's double-crossed them." Quatermain's words fill me with an unexplainable anger for some reason, and I turn to glare at him. Before I can even think, I slap him hard in the jaw.
There is a dead silence that screams of exactly what my thoughts are on Skinner. Quatermain looks fit to kill, and more than a little shocked that a mere girl had the impudence to not bow to him, and as I look around, I realize everyone is looking at me like I have eight eyes. Quite frankly, I don't care though. There are a billion things I want to say and can't. Instead, I let the silence say it for me as I turn and run.
I keep running, past Mina and Dorian, past numerous members of Nemo's crew and don't stop until I've reached the training room once more. I stand in the middle and kick the sack of potatoes.
This is wrong. Skinner has been framed. I refuse to believe that the person who took me in from square one, mute and all, and has been nothing but helpful to me is the traitor. Maybe I'm naïve, but I can't bring myself to accept that he would take the time to be kind to me and earn my trust just to stab me in the back, along with the rest of the League.
I don't know what's happened for sure, or what is going on now, but what I do know is this. I will not give up on Skinner until the second I know for certain that he is the traitor, and I don't care if every single member of the League hates me for it. Skinner helped me out when I came into this story suddenly. Now I'm going to return the favour and help him.
Heaven help anyone who tried to change my mind.
Wah wah wah… So there's the end of the chapter. Please, please, please review if you get a chance, I really appreciate it. I hope you're liking the story so far, and I'll try to get more posted soon. Bis dann, Auf Wiedersehen!


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Court: TSC
Catherine Y. Brockenborough, Donald E. Dawson, and Sara Willingham, Nashville, Tennessee, for the appellant, James A. Dellinger.
Robert E. Cooper, Attorney General & Reporter; Michael E. Moore, Solicitor General; Mark E. Davidson, Assistant Attorney General; Jennifer L. Smith, Associate Deputy Attorney General; Michael L. Flynn, District Attorney General; and Rocky H. Young, Assistant District Attorney General, for the appellee, State of Tennessee.
Wade V. Davies, Knoxville, Tennessee, for the amicus curiae, Tennessee Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers.
Patricia Head Moskal, Nashville, Tennessee, and Meir Feder, New York City, New York, for the amicus curiae, The Innocence Project.
Judge: HOLDER
We granted this appeal to decide an issue of first impression: whether a freestanding claim of actual innocence is cognizable in an initial petition for post-conviction relief under the Tennessee Post- Conviction Procedure Act, Tennessee Code Annotated sections 40-30-101 through -122. We have also chosen to discuss the petitioner's ineffective assistance of counsel claims and the burden of proof for prevailing on such claims. In 2003, the petitioner filed a petition for post-conviction relief. The post-conviction trial court denied his petition, and the Court of Criminal Appeals affirmed. The Court of Criminal Appeals held that: (1) a freestanding claim of actual innocence is not cognizable in an initial petition for post-conviction relief; (2) the post-conviction trial court applied the correct burden of proof to the petitioner's ineffective assistance of counsel claims; and (3) the petitioner was not denied the effective assistance of counsel. We hold that a claim of actual innocence based on new scientific evidence is cognizable in an initial petition for post-conviction relief. We affirm the Court of Criminal Appeals' denial of relief, however, because the petitioner has not met his burden of proof to support such claim. We also hold that the post-conviction trial court applied the correct burden of proof to the petitioner's ineffective assistance of counsel claims. To provide clarity in the law, however, we concurrently amend Tennessee Supreme Court Rule 28 section 8(D)(1). Finally, we hold that the petitioner was not denied the effective assistance of counsel. We affirm the judgment of the Court of Criminal Appeals in all other respects.
DANNY RAY GIBBS, SR. v. SATURN CORPORATION ET AL.
Court: TWCA
Kenneth Marshall Switzer, Nashville, Tennessee, for the appellant, Saturn Corporation.
Ann Buntin Steiner, Nashville, Tennessee, for the appellee, Danny Ray Gibbs, Sr.
Judge: KOCH
This workers' compensation appeal has been referred to the Special Workers' Compensation Appeals Panel of the Supreme Court in accordance with Tenn. Code Ann. section 50-6-225(e)(3) (2008) for a hearing and a report of findings of fact and conclusions of law. It involves the efforts of a retired employee of an automobile manufacturer to obtain workers' compensation benefits for an injury to his right shoulder that was diagnosed after his retirement and also to obtain reconsideration of an earlier award of workers' compensation benefits for a work-related injury to his left shoulder. Following a bench trial, the Circuit Court for Williamson County concluded that the retired employee had sustained a compensable injury to his right shoulder and awarded him benefits based on a thirty-two percent permanent partial disability to the body as a whole. The trial court also determined that the employee was neligible for reconsideration of the award for the injury to his left shoulder. On this appeal, the employer takes issue with the award for the injury to the employee's right shoulder, and the employee takes issue with the trial court's refusal to reconsider the award of benefits for the injury to his left shoulder. We have determined that the trial court properly declined to reconsider the award for the injury to the employee's left shoulder. We have also determined that the evidence does not preponderate against the trial court's conclusion that the injury to the employee's right shoulder was work- related. However, we have determined that the trial court erred by failing to limit the award of benefits for the injury to the right shoulder to the cap in Tenn. Code Ann. section 50-6-241(d)(1)(A) (2008).
SOUTHERN CELLULOSE PRODUCTS, INC. v. STEPHEN DEFRIESE
Court: TWCA
Harry F. Burnette and Doug S. Hamill, Chattanooga, Tennessee for the appellant, Stephen DeFriese.
David F. Hensley, Chattanooga, Tennessee for the appellee, Southern Cellulose Products, Inc.
Judge: WADE
After the employee suffered an employment-related injury to his right extremity, for which he was entitled to workers' compensation, the employer filed suit contesting any award of benefits for the employee's claim that the injury aggravated his pre-existing bipolar disorder. The trial court awarded compensation for the injury to the right extremity, capped at 1.5 times the impairment rating, but denied compensation for aggravation of the pre-existing condition. The employee appealed. The appeal was referred to the Special Workers' Compensation Appeals Panel of the Supreme Court in accordance with Tennessee Code Annotated section 50-6-225(e)(3) for a hearing and a report of findings of fact and conclusions of law. The cause is remanded with instructions for a determination of whether the trial court had subject matter jurisdiction.
JACKIE WAYNE BALLARD v. SONYA RENEE BALLARD
Court: TCA
Grant C. Glassford, Brentwood, TN, for Appellant.
Thomas F. Bloom, Nashville, TN; Larry H. Hagar, Madison, TN, for Appellee.
Judge: HIGHERS
In this appeal, we are asked to determine whether the trial court erred in awarding Wife $5,015.00 as her share of the appreciation of the marital home. We are also asked to determine whether the trial court erred in awarding Husband $18,780.00 for attorney's fees when he made no claim for alimony, and failed to show both his need for such an award and Wife's ability to pay. We reverse the circuit court's award of $5,015.00 to Wife, and find that Wife is entitled to no appreciation of the marital home as she made no "substantial contribution to its preservation and appreciation" such that the appreciation became marital property. We affirm the circuit court's award of $18,780.00 to Husband for attorney's fees.
IN RE: ESTATE OF ELSIE STINCHFIELD BROWNLEE, ET AL. v. JACQUE BROWNLEE HUGHES, ET AL.
Court: TCA
Betty Lou Taylor, Hartsville, TN, for Appellant.
Sue Hynds Dunning, Gallatin, TN, for Appellee.
Bruce N. Oldham, Gallatin, TN, for Appellee.
Judge: STAFFORD
This case involves the construction of a holographic will. Decedent died in 2006, and was survived by her four children. Her will states that one of her sons is to "have" the "home place." Two of the other siblings, the Appellees, contest the trial court's determination that the Decedent's will transfers fee simple title in the Decedent's real property owned at the time of her death to her son. Finding no error, we affirm.
BETTY L. GRAHAM v. BOARD OF DIRECTOR LAKE PARK CONDO-SIGNAL VIEW
Court: TCA
Betty Lou Graham, Jasper, Tennessee, Pro Se Appellant.
Scott N. Davis, Chattanooga, Tennessee for the Appellee, Board of Directors Lake Park Condominium Association.
Judge: SWINEY
Betty L. Graham ("Plaintiff") sued the Board of Director Lake Park Condo-Signal View ("Defendant") in General Sessions Court for Hamilton County. The General Sessions Court granted summary judgment to Defendant on eight of Plaintiff's ten claims and later dismissed the remaining two claims with prejudice. Plaintiff appealed to the Circuit Court for Hamilton County. The Circuit Court granted partial summary judgment to Defendant on the same eight claims as the General Sessions Court had but did so on the sole basis that the appeal to the Circuit Court was untimely as to those eight claims and, subsequently granted Defendant's motion to dismiss the remaining two claims. Plaintiff appeals to this Court. We reverse the grant of partial summary judgment on the eight claims, and affirm the dismissal of the other two claims.
IN RE: ADOPTION OF T.L.H., A Minor Child
ERIK HOLT v. CHRISTOPHER LEE MORRIS, et ux, SARAH LYNN MORRIS
Court: TCA
James Y. Ross, Sr., Waynesboro, TN, for Appellant.
Paul A. Bates, Lawrwenceburg, TN, for Appellees.
Judge: HIGHERS
This is an appeal from an order terminating a father's parental rights and granting a stepfather's petition for adoption. Because the final order does not contain sufficient findings of fact and conclusions of law justifying the trial court's decision, we vacate the order and remand for further proceedings.
MARTA MOLCHKO MYERS v. PHILLIP DWIGHT MYERS
Court: TCA
Robin L. Miller and R. Wayne Peters, Chattanooga, Tennessee, for the appellant, Marta Molchko Myers.
Randall W. Morrison, Tullahoma, Tennessee, for the appellee, Phillip Dwight Myers.
Judge: CLEMENT
In this divorce action, Wife appeals the trial court's classification and division of the marital estate and the decision to not award her alimony. The principal marital asset is Husband's interest in the business known as Myers Trucking; however, it was disputed whether the business and the commercial trucks used in the business were solely owned by Husband or whether the business was a partnership in which he only had a 50 percent interest. It was also disputed whether many of the business' valuable assets were owned by his parents. The trial court awarded Myers Trucking to Husband and awarded Wife $125,000 for her marital interest in the business without determining whether Husband solely owned the business or whether the business was a partnership equally owned by Husband and his father and without determining whether the business or the parents owned the trucks used in the business. We have determined the trial court failed to determine the ownership and value of the disputed assets and to value the marital property; therefore, the court could not have made an equitable distribution of the marital estate. We have also determined that the record is inadequate for us to determine these issues on appeal. Accordingly, we reverse the judgment of the trial court and remand for further proceedings.
MARIAN NEAMTU v. IVETA NEAMTU
Court: TCA
Jeffrey L. Levy, Nashville, Tennessee, for the appellant, Marian Neamtu.
Thomas F. Bloom, Nashville, Tennessee, for the appellee, Iveta Neamtu.
Judge: CLEMENT
This is an appeal from a divorce action in which both Husband and Wife challenge various findings and rulings of the trial court. Husband appeals claiming the trial court erred in not finding Wife a non-credible witness, finding Wife is unable to work due to a lengthy illness, awarding Wife alimony in futuro, and requiring him to pay Wife's COBRA insurance. Wife appeals claiming that the trial court erred in its division of marital property and the amount of alimony awarded. We affirm the trial court's decision in all respects.
IN THE MATTER OF: T.L.N. and M.C.F.
Court: TCA
Mark K. Green, Columbia, Tennessee, for the appellant.
Robert E. Cooper, Jr., Attorney General and Reporter, and Amy T. McConnell, Assistant Attorney General, for the appellee, State of Tennessee, Department of Children's Services.
Dinah L. Clark, Guardian Ad Litem.
Judge: FARMER
The trial court terminated Mother's parental rights on the grounds of abandonment for failure to provide a suitable home, non-compliance with the permanency plan, and persistence of conditions. We reverse.
Court: TCA
Roy P. Neuenschwander, Knoxville, Tennessee, for appellant, Jefferson Lee Young.
R. Kim Burnette, Knoxville, Tennessee, for appellee, Enerpac.
Judge: FRANKS
Plaintiff filed this action after the statute of limitations had run, and defendant moved to dismiss. Plaintiff attempted to invoke the discovery rule, claiming that his injuries had required surgery and he was sedated for a few days following the accident. The Trial Court granted the defendant summary judgment and plaintiff has appealed. We affirm the Trial Court on the grounds that the discovery rule was not applicable to the circumstances of this case.
STATE OF TENNESSEE v. BRITTANY ANN KIESTLER
Court: TCCA
J. Thomas Caldwell, Ripley, Tennessee, for the appellant, Brittany Ann Kiestler.
Robert E. Cooper, Jr., Attorney General and Reporter; Sophia S. Lee, Assistant Attorney General; D. Michael Dunavant, District Attorney General; and P. Neal Oldham, Assistant District Attorney General, for the appellee, State of Tennessee.
Judge: OGLE
After a bench trial, the Lauderdale County Circuit Court convicted the appellant, Brittany Ann Kiestler, of two counts of contributing to the delinquency of a minor and ordered her to serve eleven months, twenty-nine days on supervised probation. On appeal, the appellant contends that the evidence is insufficient to support her convictions. Upon review, we affirm the judgments of the trial court.
Legal News
Legislative News
TBA Member Services
Legal News
Sixth Circuit considers state's execution method
The 6th Circuit Court of Appeals this week heard oral arguments in the case of condemned inmate E.J. Harbison. The court will use the case to determine whether or not Tennessee's lethal injection method is unconstitutional. In 2007, District Judge Aleta Trauger found the method constituted cruel and unusual punishment.
Read about the hearing in the Nashville City Paper
Court holds first access to justice town hall meeting
The Tennessee Supreme Court took its Access to Justice initiative to Jackson yesterday with a public meeting at the downtown library. A nine-person panel led by Justice Cornelia Clark included local lawyers, judges and representatives from local agencies. The group discussed current access to justice challenges and took questions and statements from the audience. The meeting is the first of five the court plans to hold around the state.
Read about the event in the Jackson Sun
Presidential oath retaken last night
Because he got one word out of sequence when taking the oath of office Tuesday, President Obama took it again last night out of an "abundance of caution," said White House Counsel Greg Craig. After misstating the oath on inauguration day, U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. visited the White House yesterday for the do-over.
The Commercial Appeal has more
Commission sets date for 15th Judicial District hearing
The Judicial Selection Commission will meet on Feb. 10 at the John W. Music Judicial Building in Lebanon to initiate the process of filling the vacancy in the 15th Judicial District Criminal Court created by the death of Judge James O. Bond. Three attorneys filed for consideration prior to the deadline.
See the commission's notice
Guantanamo prison to close within a year
President Obama today signed executive orders closing the prison at Guantanamo Bay (as well as any other CIA secret prisons) and outlawing certain forms of torture. The first order calls for review of all detainee cases and relocation of prisoners with full closure of the prison within a year. The second order subjects the CIA to the same rules the military must follow.
The ABA Journal links to several key stories
Paper covers 4ALL campaign
The Memphis Commercial Appeal this week carried an extensive story on TBA President Buck Lewis' 4ALL campaign, which is designed to educate lawyers and the public about the need for increased legal services for the poor. The story covered each component of the campaign including proposals for legislative and Supreme Court rule changes, a call for Tennessee law firms to adopt formal pro bono policies, and a statewide public service day on April 4.
Read the article
15 interview for Shelby court
In search of a replacement for former General Sessions Division 10 Judge Anthony Johnson, Shelby County Commissioners interviewed 15 attorneys yesterday. One focus of the questioning was whether candidates would be willing to hear only domestic violence cases as the county's domestic violence court has been dissolved due to lack of funds. Commissioners will vote Monday on an interim judge who will serve until the 2010 election.
The Commercial Appeal has the list of candidates
Women's law group elects new officers, board members
The East Tennessee Lawyers Association for Women (ETLAW) has elected a new board of directors for 2009. They are Debra House, president; Wynne Hall, president-elect; Becky Franklin, secretary; Betty James, treasurer; Leslie Muse and Dawn Coppock, program chairs; Karen Crutchfield and Justice Sharon Lee, membership chairs; Donna Holt, TLAW representative; Heather Anderson, IOLTA grant review representative; and Sharon Frankenberg, community outreach chair.
Legislative News
House committee chairs named
House Speaker Kent Williams has appointed Republicans to chair seven of the chamber's 13 standing committees, almost evenly dividing the chairmanship posts. Democrats continue to chair the Judiciary and Finance committees, while Republican Beth Harwell will preside over the all-important Commerce Committee.
The Nashville Post has the full list
Committee debates caps on nursing home liability
A special legislative committee is studying the effects of litigation on nursing homes and whether caps should be placed on damages won in lawsuits against them. The Tennessean reports that Senate Speaker Ron Ramsey has made the issue part of his legislative agenda for the year. Speaking for the Tennessee Association of Justice at a hearing yesterday, Daniel Clayton argued that the focus should be on improving care. Last month, a federal report ranked the state's nursing homes as some of the worst in the nation.
Learn more about the issues
Sheriff announces for Congress
Bradley County Sheriff Tim Gobble this morning announced he would seek the Republican nomination for the congressional seat now held by Zach Wamp. Gobble is the latest of several southeast Tennesseans to express interest in the seat including Sen. Dewayne Bunch, R-Cleveland; Rep. Gerald McCormick, R-Chattanooga; Republican Party Chair Robin Smith; and Sen. Bo Watson, R-Hixson.
The Times Free Press reports
TBA Member Services
Avis benefits 'try harder'
TBA members are offered a rental car discount through Avis. Enroll in the Avis Preferred Service at
to bypass the rental counter and go directly to your car for a faster, easier rental experience. Enter code AWD# A570100.
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About this publication:
Today's News is a compilation of digests of news reports of interest to Tennessee lawyers compiled by TBA staff, links to digested press releases, and occasional stories about the TBA and other activities written by the TBA staff or members. Statements or opinions herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the Tennessee Bar Association, its officers, board or staff.
© Copyright 2009 Tennessee Bar Association


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More on Mercury and Fish Consumption During PregnancyPosted: October 16th, 2012 | Tags: canned tuna, catfish, fish, heavy metals, Illinois Poison Center, ipc blog, mercury, omega-3 fatty acids, pollock, pregnancy, salmon, shrimp | No Comments »
On June 5, the IPC published a blog regarding the mercury content in fish. In the blog, the FDA recommended that people may want to limit their consumption of fish with high mercury content, especially women who are pregnant or may become pregnant, nursing mothers, and young children. This is because the high levels of mercury found in some fish can have harmful, brain-damaging effects in a fetus. However, fish high in omega-3 fatty acids has also been shown to help fetal brain development. So what should a pregnant woman do? Read more »


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This just in…
For months now I have been anxiously awaiting Heidi Betts' new book, Tangled Up in Love, a contemporary romantic comedy from St. Martin's Press, to hit shelves. Well, finally today is the day.
~ This is the first book in the Chicks with Sticks trilogy with the second and third books coming out in August 2009 and February 2010. Each story pits three women from a knitting group against three jock-type heroes.
~ To go along with the release, as well as future releases, Ms. Betts has started a new blog, Must Love Yarn. She will be sharing excerpts from the books, the books' covers as she gets them, and other "behind the scenes" information about each one.
~ She will also be chatting about her knitting passion, sharing knitting patterns, have visiting knitting guest bloggers (author Donna Alward visited in early January and shared a pattern for a checkerboard scarf), and wants patterns, knitting or crocheting, from blog readers.
~ Oh, and one more thing…Ms. Betts has also started a Yahoogroup called the Heidi Betts Happy Bookers. It's a place for her fans to talk about her books and whatever else might they want to chat about.
~ So if you are a fan of romantic comedies, knitting, or both and just want to hang out at some fun blogs, check out Heidi Betts' newest book and her blogs.
Consider yourself flashed.


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By Phil D. Jay
Former British bantamweight champion Stuart Hall has expressed his anger at Frank Maloney shelving his upcoming six-rounder against Dougie Curran on Saturday and hinted that he may be ready to look for a new promoter.
The 32 year-old was due to make an appearance at Bowler's in Manchester on the Brian Rose v Kris Carslaw British light-middleweight undercard and is unhappy at the timing of the cancellation following the withdrawal of the bout.
"I have trained six hard weeks for this fight and to be told it is not going to happen two days before the fight is ridiculous. I am absolutely wounded," Hall told thenorthernecho.co.uk.
"I can't believe what Frank has done. Maybe he thinks I am finished.
"I can tell you now I'm going nowhere because I am in better shape than I have ever been. This fight was going to be where I showed everybody how good I still am. I am just devastated.
"We are looking to complain about the decision because we were told far too late.
"I have been training in Leeds which has cost me hundreds of pounds, not forgetting the tickets I have sold to mates and their hotels etc. We will get none of that money back.
"I have been shining in sparring and my trainer says I am in the best shape of my career.
"I know that with the right promoters I can still win titles," he added.
Hall (12-1-1) has one victory under his belt since losing his British title to Jamie McDonnell in September last year whilst suffering his only loss, and will now have to await a fresh date from Maloney for his next outing.
Phil D. Jay covers boxing for worldboxingnews.net


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ALA Resolutions:
Below are the guidelines for preparation of resolutions for the ALA Council and Membership, as well as mutual content documents (i.e., resolution samples, resolution forms, etc.). PLEASE NOTE that both the Resolution e-Form and proposed resolution for Council, face-to-face or virtual memberships must be submitted electronically to Ed Sanchez, chair, Resolutions Committee, email@example.com, before the resolution can be brought before the ALA Council or Membership for consideration. After you have submitted your Resolution e-Form, you will receive a confirmation email; however, you will not receive a confirmation for your emailed resolution. If you require assistance with this process, you can email Ed Sanchez at email@example.com.
Guidelines and Forms
Guidelines for Preparation of Resolutions for Council
Guidelines for Preparation of Face-to-Face Membership Resolutions
Guidelines for Preparation of Virtual Membership Resolutions
Samples and Committee Table Schedule
Sample of Completed ALA Resolutions e-Form
Suggestions for a Tribute Resolution
Suggestions for a Memorial Resolution
Resolution Committee Table Schedule


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Reducing Sugar
Reducing Sugar. Any sugar (q.v.) that contains a reactive aldehyde group (HC=O), as does dextrose (q.v.), or a reactive keto group (C-CO-C), as does fructose (q.v.). Such a sugar is capable of reacting with the soluble blue cupric ion of Fehling's solution (q.v.) to produce an insoluble reddish cuprous oxide, being itself oxidized to an acid (q.v.) in the process. At the elevated temperatures of baking, reducing sugars enter into the browning reaction (q.v.), also referred to as the Maillard reaction, by combining with amino acids (q.v.) to form melanoidins (q.v.) that contribute importantly to crust (q.v.) color and bread flavor (q.v.).


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Many investors and other potential buyers have been trying to determine whether the time is right to invest in distressed hotels. The recovering U.S. economy and hotel market indicate that the hotel industry's severe recession has bottomed out, which has investors wondering whether they should make some investments in the near term before prices rise and the steep discounts disappear.
The good news is that, despite improving fundamentals, there still are a lot of distressed properties, though many of them have not yet appeared on the market. When, and how, can investors best take advantage of distressed opportunities?
Economic and market considerations
There are opposing trends that have both encouraged and discouraged investment in distressed hotels. The encouraging signs include recovery in the capital markets, improvement in hotel operating fundamentals, an increasing number of sale transactions, and muted construction activity.


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January 6, 1945 - June 21, 1956
Son of Leonard & Allene Childs
Contributed on 3/3/09 by Jeanetteponder
Email This Contributor
Record #: 162746
On this site you can upload gravestone photos, locate ancestors and perform genealogy research. If you have a relative buried in Arkansas, we encourage you to upload a digital image using our Submit a Photo page. Contributing to this genealogy archive helps family historians and genealogy researchers locate their relatives and complete their family tree.
Submitted: 3/3/09 • Approved: 3/4/09 • Last Updated: 8/20/12 • R162746-G0-S3


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Stock Tracker: Looking at the Levels on Shares of elf Beauty Inc (ELF)
After a recent technical review, shares of e.l.f. Beauty Inc (ELF) have a 200-day moving average of 27.16. The 50-day is 25.90, and the 7-day is sitting at 25.05.
Using a wider time frame to assess the moving average such as the 200-day, may help block out the noise and chaos that is often caused by daily price fluctuations. In some cases, MA's may be used as strong reference points for spotting support and resistance levels. Employing the use of the moving average for technical equity analysis is still highly popular among traders and investors.
The moving average can be used as a reference point to assist with the discovery of buying and selling opportunities. e.l.f. Beauty Inc (ELF)'s Williams Percent Range or 14 day Williams %R currently sits at -63.72.
The Williams %R oscillates in a range from 0 to -100. A reading between 0 and -20 would point to an overbought situation. A reading from -80 to -100 would signal an oversold situation.
The Williams %R was developed by Larry Williams. This is a momentum indicator that is the inverse of the Fast Stochastic Oscillator. e.l.f. Beauty Inc (ELF) currently has a 14-day Commodity Channel Index (CCI) of -49.10.
Active investors may choose to use this technical indicator as a stock evaluation tool. Used as a coincident indicator, the CCI reading above +100 would reflect strong price action which may signal an uptrend. On the flip side, a reading below -100 may signal a downtrend reflecting weak price action.
Using the CCI as a leading indicator, technical analysts may use a +100 reading as an overbought signal and a -100 reading as an oversold indicator, suggesting a trend reversal. Currently, the 14-day ADX for e.l.f. Beauty Inc (ELF) is sitting at 12.66.
Generally speaking, an ADX value from 0-25 would indicate an absent or weak trend. A value of 25-50 would support a strong trend. A value of 50-75 would identify a very strong trend, and a value of 75-100 would lead to an extremely strong trend.
ADX is used to gauge trend strength but not trend direction. Traders often add the Plus Directional Indicator (+DI) and Minus Directional Indicator (-DI) to identify the direction of a trend. The RSI, or Relative Strength Index, is a widely used technical momentum indicator that compares price movement over time.
The RSI was created by J. Welles Wilder who was striving to measure whether or not a stock was overbought or oversold. The RSI may be useful for spotting abnormal price activity and volatility.
The RSI oscillates on a scale from 0 to 100. The normal reading of a stock will fall in the range of 30 to 70. A reading over 70 would indicate that the stock is overbought, and possibly overvalued.
A reading under 30 may indicate that the stock is oversold, and possibly undervalued. After a recent check, the 14-day RSI is currently at 46.09, the 7-day stands at 48.45, and the 3-day is sitting at 65.14. Investors may be trying to decide if stocks will make new highs before the year is out, and whether or not the bull market will celebrate its 9th anniversary next year.
The tricky part is prognosticating the short term picture. Investors may not be comfortable enough to go all in, but they may not want to get bearish given the solid economic backdrop. Will there be a big breakout given the strength of earnings and economic growth?
Will investors just become numb to the headlines and decide to focus on the positive economic picture?
It is always wise to remember that the market can have a correction at any time for any reason.
If the political landscape gets even more dysfunctional, then it may be enough of a driver to spur a correction.