"...So you see, Curtis, this Luther Blisset affair has set me thinking.

When I look back now, at the Jerusalem incident, the first thing that springs to mind, is that it could have been so much worse. You see, he was in such a state right then... getting worse. I didn't really know this of course, oh no, nor would he admit to it if he had. Heh, a right old jam he was in, I can tell you. Hmm. Note to self: Stop Cre'at selling his so-called "lemonade". He's getting far too used to this country way of life, if you ask me. Must actually analyse the stuff. Could be illegal. Bad Thing.

Where was I? Oh yes. Blisset. No. no, hang on... er.... right. Got it. You once asked me, Colin, just where he went ot back then. Where I ran off to. Well, at first, anywhere. I'd had a vision - a sort of premonition. And it had rattled him. Me. No.... Him! I am NOT him. Right. Anyway. So, he ran off down some back streets, looking for somewhere peaceful to calm down, reflect. Hah! Peaceful! In Jerusalem. He found a park, a small space of scrubby grass. Panting a little, I think. So, he took his time, and the panic slowly passed. But he wasn't in a good way. His shields were down, so to speak.

And thats when he heard the most beautiful music. You know what we're like for music, Curtis. A wonderful chanting. Gregorian, or something like it. Sound familiar, Curtis? It seemed, as always, to sound like it was in his head. So, I followed it. Through a maze of tiny back streets. Past merchants, pedlars, thieves, beggars.

His destination was a small, yet beautiful, gothic church Stood smack bang in the middle of a street of cheap and cheerful shops, fruit and veg tumbling off the stalls. A haven of peace amidst an atmosphere of fear.

The perfect place, I thought. Somewhere to calm. Somewhere to breath. Somewhere to... to... be.

So he crashed through the doors, out of the heat and oppressiveness and into a cool calmness.

I don't know how long he was sitting there. In peace. In quiet. In calm. Trying to still his racing mind. Trying to meditate. Trying to find what it was he had forgotten. Then someone sat next to him. Looking up, he saw a cowled figure, gazing impassively ahead.

Why are you here, asked the monk.

Do you mind? I'm trying to think, child. I replied.

So I see. No one has time for religion it seems.

I've never had time for that, he replied. Though I have been mistaken for it at times, he added.

Indeed? Came the reply. Our people decided they didn't have the time for us. Now we wander. Journey from place to place.

Hah! He said. Same here. My people didn't want me around either. I survived. Bet it niggles them, though. Thats if they even know I'm alive.

And are you?

Am I what?

Alive?

Well of course I am, idiot! How could you be talking to me if I weren't? This is twentieth century Earth. You don't have the ability to talk to the dead.

No, I suppose not. But if you could, who would you talk to?

I gave him a look. Well, he tried to. How do you stare out a cowl?. Hah!

Humour me.

Ok, I said.

 

And then I said nothing for a long time.

 

When I spoke, it was one word.

Blanche.

Blanche?

My.... my friend.

You would talk with her?

I.....I have to apologise, you see?

Why?

I couldn't save her. She... died.

Ironic, isn't it, Colin? MM... more coffee needed. Hang on....

Where was I?

Oh yes.

So, I said. Its my fault.

You killed her?

As good as. I tried. I did try. He just couldn't stop it happening.

You have to live with these things. You say you tried? Then you did not kill her. You were the one trying to save her. She died. You live. Get on with it.

He looked at him.

Your very straight forward for a man of the cloth

I sense you are not one for lectures.

You are of course, right.

All in all, it was an odd meeting. I stayed for some time. In silence. Thinking. Meditating. Occasionally the monk would approach, to check that all was well. I fancy he somewhat lost track of time in there.

Later, when I went back to speak to the monk again, just before we left, I couldn't find the place. Oh, my mind was clearer then it had been in an age. But still, I couldn't find it. I know I got the street right. Only now, after Greenwich, does it make sense.

I only spoke to the monk once more. As I was leaving I said that I'd been longer then I had wished. I had to get back to the TARDIS.

TARDIS? Replied the monk, backing away.

My home. Well, it is now, anyway.

If only I'd realised then and there.

It still hurts, you know, Curtis. The pain of the psychic shock has faded, slowly. But it still hurts. Inside. I said this then, to one of them. Now I say it again. Because of them.

You see, I couldn't save her. She... died.

I have to make a move. I've just seen Cre'at going down Allen Road in his scout uniform. I know, I know, you told me to stop him, but he is very much a law unto himself. Right. Phone me when you get this. Any questions, etc.