Author's Notes: By necessity, every game ends with the wrap-up of the main plot but not always of all its loose ends. This is nowhere more evident, at least to me, than with MCF: Ravenhearst Unlocked. Here's my take on, as Paul Harvey would have put it, "the rest of the story." Also, people and circumstances here follow what I set up in "In Her Majesty's Service". This story might make a little more sense (who Thomas is, how the Master Detective knows him, etc) after reading that one.

Canonically, the Master Detective's gender is not known for sure, though general fandom seems to have set him/her as being female. For myself, however, I have always viewed the POV character as male, and it is from that perspective that I write.

Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

Aftermath
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 1 - Alone

"Case closed . . . Master Detective."

Darnell blinked the last of the blindness away to note green grass under him. He was crouched on hands and knees. Somehow, he wasn't in the cavern anymore.

Ellen . . . ?

Looking up, he found himself on the cliff's edge beyond Ravenhearst's cemetery. In front of him, the medieval town sank back under the ocean's waves, once more leaving not a trace that it had ever existed. Behind it, the sun was just slipping into the horizon, accentuating the sinking town.

The detective sat back on his heels, face in his bandaged hands. He was so tired, both physically and mentally wrung out. He'd only barely escaped death yet again, this time thanks solely to Ellen.

And . . . Alister . . . ?

The stylized raven skull branded on his forearm ached, the cut in the heel of his palm burning under the bandages. His skull throbbed from the goose egg on the side of his head. His whole body hurt.

Is he really gone this time? Really? How can I even be sure?

Time lost meaning, twilight deepening around him much like the gloom attempting to settle within. He didn't move for so long that his legs from the knees down lost feeling. He didn't care. He was too exhausted for the moment to care. He didn't even react when he thought he heard a car pull up and stop somewhere in the distance behind him. It wasn't until voices reached him that he began shaking himself from his malaise.

"That's him. Careful, sir! He could be dangerous."

"Rubbish. Barrett!"

Darnell didn't recognize the first voice, but the second he knew all too well. It was Thomas. Officer Thomas Blackwell, his agent handler. And dear friend. Darnell huffed softly, the breath coming out a near-sob of exhausted relief - he wasn't alone out here anymore. He turned to look over his shoulder and spotted Thomas, along with a police constable, quickly approaching from the ruins of the house. The night was clear and full of stars, but the pair still carried flashlights to keep from tripping over broken gravestones and other debris.

Not to mention the dead body.

"Gwendolyn . . . I don't know if she legally changed her name or not, so either Sommerset or Dalimar. Or Caldwell." Darnell couldn't remember just then which sister had technically married poor Benedict. "You should find her twin Charlotte at the Manchester Lunatic Asylum, if you haven't already."

"We found her. She told us you'd come back here." The constable folded his arms and nodded at the body. "And killed her sister."

"Nonsense," Thomas asserted with a growl. "Or if he did, it was in self-defense."

"It wasn't me." Darnell tried to stand, but his numb legs wouldn't work and he wound up on his side, propped up on his bad hand. "Ow." His head swam from the failed effort.

Thomas was at his side in an instant, dropping to a knee. "Barrett!" The officer put a steadying hand on his shoulder as he righted himself a bit more. "Bloody hell, man, you look like-" He stopped, visibly catching himself from glancing at the local constable.

Most people were told they look 'like hell.' By many of his colleagues in the Royal Agency, Darnell was usually told he looked 'like Blackpool,' the nearest town to the site of what were consistently his most horrific and trying cases. More rightly, they should say 'like Ravenhearst,' but no one was that insensitive.

Darnell leaned gratefully on his friend, grimacing at the pins-and-needles burn as feeling returned to his lower legs. "Alister. It was Alister."

The constable frowned, pulling out a folder he'd been carrying tucked under one arm. "The looney talked a lot about some kind of arch-enemy. I think that was the name." He seemed to locate the information and nodded. "Yeah, here. Alister Dalimar."

Thomas's expression turned stormy as he gazed up, his tone hard. "'The looney' has a name, constable. He is Special Agent Darnell Barrett, he is in fact a master detective, and I will thank you to hand over that file. By order of the Queen. I will also be confiscating any other information you have on Master Detective Barrett, and any copies will be destroyed. Do I make myself clear?"

The constable stiffened, obviously unhappy, but he was in no position to deny an operative of the Royal Security Service. "Perfectly, sir."

"Good." Thomas pulled Darnell's near arm around his shoulders. "Come on, Barrett. On three."

Darnell clung more than he liked as his friend hauled him to his feet, needing a moment to find his balance before he could stand on his own. "Thanks, Blackwell." He gazed down at himself, at the drab asylum pants and shirt - with leather straps and buckles for restraint - over dirty blue loafers. He turned to the constable. Part of him wanted to growl at the man for the whole 'dangerous looney' thing. Could not the constable tell his seeming delirium was just because he'd had a concussion and been in shock at the time? But he didn't have the energy or the coping ability left for now to argue. "My clothes?"

"All of your personal effects are back at Manchester, Master Detective. Though they're in about as good of a condition as one would expect from a prolonged dunk in the ocean."

Darnell grimaced, thinking about all his case notes, his crime computer… "My wallet? My badge?"

The constable shook his head, finally showing a little sympathy. "You had no identification on you when you was pulled from the drink, sir. You was babbling about dark magic, an arch-enemy, twisted twins…" His voice trailed off as he looked over his shoulder at the body of Gwendolyn. "Although I suppose we can now corroborate at least part of your story."

"You don't need to corroborate anything, Constable Cooper," Thomas told him. "The Royal Agency is taking things over from here. For now, call an ambulance. And a coroner. Go." The constable moved off to make his phone calls, leaving the two operatives to talk.