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"Right this way, Flora. We'll be out in just a moment."
Flora stumbles after Big Luke, struggling to keep up. She can outrun Little Luke any time, any day, but Big Luke is tall, and he moves quickly, and he knows the way, and Flora doesn't, and it's so, so dark. The darkness is thick, surrounding her and choking her.
She tries to take a deep breath, and fails; there's a heavy weight crushing her chest, barely allowing her to breathe at all. She's out of breath—she'd only just climbed to the top of the Towering Pagoda, after all, and been trapped in a cage, and the professor had been Don Paolo for hours, and she'd somehow been too blind to notice, and she's running for her life, so it makes sense for her to be tired, but she shouldn't be this panicked, should she?
She'd wanted to go on an adventure with the professor so badly, but she hadn't known that it would take this dark of a turn. She hadn't known that there'd be gangsters with guns, or that she or Luke or the professor's lives would be in danger.
What if the professor dies? Who will take care of her? She'll be all alone. If Little Luke dies, will Big Luke disappear? What if he vanishes before her eyes? What if she's left alone in this tunnel? The professor was right. She shouldn't have come. If she hadn't come, if she wasn't here, Big Luke would be safe with the professor; the three of them, and Don Paolo, could have all escaped together without her slowing the group down.
Her chest is getting tighter and tighter. Flora pictures the professor, and Luke, lying wounded in pools of their own blood, on the ground. She tries so hard to hold back her tears—she doesn't want to bother Big Luke; he likes her now; she can't mess this up—but a choked sob slips out despite her efforts, echoing throughout the tunnel.
Big Luke's footsteps slow, then come to a stop. "Flora?" She hears his footsteps approach her, and she feels his hand rest lightly on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Stop crying, stop crying, stop..! "I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I don't want to be a… a bother…"
Even in the darkness, she can see the shock, then concern in Big Luke's eyes, a sharp contrast from his usual no-nonsense demeanor. "You're not a bother." He hesitates, then takes her hand. "Follow me. I'm sure you'll feel better once we're out of the tunnel."
Flora follows, still in a daze, as Big Luke leads her along. She still feels wrong, like she's floating above the ground, but Big Luke's hand around hers keeps her semi-grounded, and his quiet, one-sided conversation gives her something other than worry over the professor to think about.
"The Hotel Duke is gorgeous, isn't it? My parents stayed there once, when they visited London. The architecture is just astounding…" and, later, "Have you seen the park yet? It's a lovely place. I'll really have to show you when we have a little bit of time. There's been a lot of awful things that've happened since the professor changed, but there's still some beauty left in London…" until she finds herself on a seat on the Tube, zooming back towards the hotel.
Flora watches Big Luke out of the corner of her eye. He sits on the seat next to her, his eyes trained on the lights in the tunnel through the window. He's still holding her hand, but that's fine; Flora's heart is still beating far too fast, and as long as he doesn't mind, she appreciates the comfort.
He's been so nice to her. Not just now, but for this entire adventure. He's never once laughed at her, or told her she was a nuisance, or brushed off her questions. He's the very picture of a gentleman, and he acts like he likes her. She wonders what changed over these ten years, that could have made him so drastically different from Little Luke.
He looks like Luke—impossibly like him. Taller, yes, and his eyes are tired, almost haunted, but ten years spent fighting a twisted version of the professor would undoubtedly have done that to him. The resemblance can't be a coincidence; he must be Luke. But what could have changed?
Flora loves Luke; really, she does, and she wants to think the best of him, but sometimes it feels as though she's nothing but a nuisance to him. When the professor tells her that she should stay behind from his adventures, Luke often sides with him. Now that her panic is dying away, that moment in the Hotel Duke, when she'd dared to show some excitement about being ten years in the future, drifts to the front of her mind. Luke had frowned at her, in his overly-serious, little-boy way, and had told her to take things more seriously. Flora wasn't angry at him, really; he must have been trying to impress the professor. But, really, did he have to talk to her that way? She had only been excited. This was a new world, after all, and there was so much to explore and to see. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
Big Luke hadn't acted like that at all. He seemed amused by her enthusiasm, and was pleased to point out all of the things about Future London that she had been curious about, as if he enjoyed sharing these new facts with her. She wonders what changed, why Big Luke is so much more patient. Is Big Luke good friends with Future Flora? If so, how did that happen? What do they talk about?
But then again, there was the shock in his eyes when she'd first met him. Oh, Flora, it's you, he'd said, almost nervously, as if he hadn't seen her for years, as if he'd almost forgotten what she looked like. Maybe she and Luke's relationship had gotten worse.
Flora has to know.
"Can we talk?"
Big Luke blinks at her question, his eyes losing their faraway look. "Eh?"
"I want to talk to you," Flora repeats, looking him in the eye. "I want to… catch up, I guess." It's embarrassing how shaky her voice still is, but she tries to stay calm, to ask reasonably. She hopes that he'll agree easily, that he won't laugh her off, but that's probably too much to hope for.
Big Luke looks almost uncomfortable, looking away from her. His grip on Flora's hand begins to loosen, as if he'll pull away as soon as Flora takes her eyes off of him. "Now?"
Wonderful; she's already messed up, somehow. But still, Flora is nothing if not stubborn; if she can't get him to agree easily, she'll get him to agree the hard way (even if it makes him hate her). "No, in ten years' time." Flora does his job for him, pulling her hand away before he can blink. "Of course now, you goose! I want to know everything. What your life's been like without the professor, what you've been doing all of this time… where the Future Flora is."
Big Luke stares blankly, then, as if coming to his senses, returns his gaze to the darkness of the tunnel. "You remember what I told Little Luke. I shouldn't tell you too much about your future. It could change things too drastic—"
"I should have known that you didn't really change."
Big Luke winces, but Flora presses on, her disappointment making it impossible to keep quiet. "Keeping secrets, acting as if what I want to know doesn't matter… we're trying to change the future already, aren't we? It couldn't hurt anything to tell me whether you and I are still friends or not."
Big Luke's expression is very odd. It's as though he's trying to say two entirely different things at once, but is unable to say either. Finally, he speaks, stuttering and hesitating. "Of course we—I mean, I… of course I'd like to still be friends with you, Flora."
"Then talk to me. Stop keeping secrets."
"I'd like to, really, but…" he trails away, silent for a moment, then starts again, a new resolve in his voice. "Alright. Let's stop somewhere, on our way to the hotel, and get something to eat—I know a lovely place. Once we're there, I'll talk. I'll say whatever you want me to say."
"As long as they aren't lies, then that sounds nice." It's hard being angry with him, or even annoyed, for very long, so Flora doesn't keep up the effort any longer. She settles back against the seat, watching the tunnel lights whiz by.
He gave in so easily. She appreciates that; that's one of the good things that's changed about Luke. Little Luke only gives in after he can't stand her begging any longer. The professor never gives in, not unless she forces herself into his affairs, unless she whines until he's too frustrated to refuse her any longer. That's what she'd done this time, and now she was here, included in this adventure. And yet, she can't help but feel unwanted.
She wonders if Big Luke really does think that she's a nuisance.
At the very least, he's very good at hiding it, if he does think she is.
"This is our stop," Luke says abruptly, and swiftly, he guides her off of the train, through the winding streets of Future London, until they find themselves underneath the arch of the arcade. They've returned to the restaurant where they first spoke to Shipley. That was only a few hours ago, but, to Flora, it feels like it was a week ago, at least.
"Hello again, Paillard," calls Luke as they stroll through the restaurant's doors. "How much is the special today?"
"It's free for you, Luke," Paillard replies with a smile. "You know that."
"Nonsense," Big Luke scoffs, pulling out a chair for Flora. "I'll take two specials, full price, if you please." Then he stops, looking towards Flora. "If that's what you'd like, of course."
"That's fine," says Flora distantly. She has no idea what the special actually is, but she hardly cares; she's not very hungry in any case. What she really, desperately wants to do is to talk.
She watches Luke pay the chef, and watches the chef move back into the kitchen and hears the clanging of the pots.
"Are you friends with him?" she asks suddenly. Their teasing banter had seemed friendly. She hoped that they were friends; she didn't want Luke to be lonely in the future.
Luke blinks as he sits down, then, a hesitant smile lights up his face. "Yes. He's been a good friend for a long time. So have Spring and Cogg. They've been far kinder than I deserve."
"That's good. I'm glad that you have friends." That came out wrong, and now it's Flora's turn to blink. "I mean, of course you have friends. But I just didn't want you to be lonely."
Luke chuckles. "You're too kind, Flora. It's true; most of the people from my old life have found separate paths from mine, but I have managed to find a few good people who stand by me through thick and thin."
He's smiling, but it's such an obvious mask, thin and forced. These ten years must have been awful for him. She leans forward. "What about your parents? Where are they?"
He winces—it's almost imperceptible, but Flora can't ignore it. His smile remains the same, plastered resolutely to his face. "Gone. They're… in America. They're safe, but I miss them dearly. I doubt that I'll ever see them again, with the state of things as it is."
"Don't say that!" Flora leans forward; her voice is too passionate, but the ache of missing her parents resonates so strongly with the sadness in his voice. "We'll fix things. I promise. And then you'll see them again!"
Luke makes a choked sound that is probably supposed to be a laugh, and looks into the corner of the room, eyes vacant. His expression is awful, a shadow of a smile, a sorry attempt to maintain his bravado. He'd tried so hard to distract her from her panic in the tunnel—now it's her turn. "I know how you feel, you know," she says quickly. "I miss my parents too. Every day. I…" Then Flora stops, flushing. She'd meant to distract him, but they were talking about his parents, not hers. She was making this all about herself…
"Tell me about them." Luke smiles tiredly towards her, chin resting on his clasped hands.
"Oh, no, never mind," stutters Flora. "We were talking about you, not me. And you've heard all of those stories before."
"I'd like to hear them again. We've already talked about myself too much for my tastes," he chuckles. "And I can tell that you're dying to talk about them."
She is. She misses them so much. In London, so far from her old home, with nobody currently in her life who knew her parents, it's so easy to let those old memories fade. So she talks. She tells him about her earliest memories, of playing with Mum in the garden. She tells him about the amusement park, and the times that she rode the Ferris Wheel with her father, and how Papa had to hold her by the waist for fear that Flora, who wouldn't sit still, would lean too far and fall to her death. She told him about Papa, how he loved engineering, and his interest in computers, and how he and Bruno would build together, and how they taught her to use tools, and to create blueprints, and how to punch holes into paper cards in a way that a computer could read it and interpret it.
"You like programming?" His smile is beginning to seem more genuine, at last. "You never told me before. I've been wanting to learn, myself."
"You'd love it," Flora grins, leaning forward. "It's so much like solving puzzles. But it's more creative, because there's so many possible solutions to each problem. I'll teach you—or, little Luke, at least—once this is all over."
He smiles again, more warmly. "I'm sure that he'll appreciate it. But don't forget to eat, Flora."
Flora looks down, realizing, for the first time, that their food had arrived. "Oh, dear," she says, reaching for the silverware and nearly dropping it in her clumsiness. "I didn't notice it was here."
"I guessed," Luke says, laughing. "But Paillard's food is always good, hot or cold."
It is good. Flora hadn't thought that she was hungry, but now that they've talked, at least a little bit, she's able (and happy) to eat. As she finishes off her plate, she hears the bell above the door ring.
"Luke!" Shipley rushes towards them. "Luke, there's—"
Luke's eyes narrow. "Just a moment, Flora," he says, too loudly, and stands from the table. He and Shipley retreat into the corner of the room; all that Flora can hear are their hushed whispers. She watches them intently. Of course, she's not a fool; she knows that there's danger here in Future London, and secrets that need to be kept, and that Shipley doesn't know her well, and might not trust her. But she can't help but feel a little bit hurt that Luke doesn't trust her enough to involve her in their conversation.
Luke returns to the table, adjusting his cap with a sharp twist. "Something's come up, Flora. I'll bring you back to the hotel, but I'll need to go off on my own for a little while. You'll tell the professor for me, won't you?"
She doesn't want to be left alone at the hotel. She'd thought that the two of them would wait together for the professor until he came for them. What if the professor never comes back? What if Future Luke never comes back from what he's doing? It could be dangerous. What if everyone dies, and she's left alone in the future, without anyone she knows? What if—
"Okay," she hears herself say, and she follows him blindly out of the restaurant doors.
It's not a far walk to the hotel from the restaurant, but it seems to take forever. She's so tired, and her thoughts won't stop racing, and Big Luke is always several steps ahead of her; it's so hard to keep up.
"Will you be alright on your own, Flora?" he asks as they arrive in front of the hotel doors.
She doesn't know, so she doesn't answer with words, only offering him a nod. He smiles hesitantly. "I'll see you later," he says, raising a hand and turning on his heel.
"Wait!"
He stops, turning back to face her. "Yes?"
She just doesn't want him to leave her alone. She wants to come with him, or for him to stay here with her, or something. "I just…" she starts, trying to think of something to say. "You didn't answer one of my questions."
He wants to leave, she can tell, but his smile doesn't waver. "What would you like to know?"
"What… what happened to the Future Flora? I know that, back at the hospital, you said that I was still healthy, but… where am I? Are we still friends in the future?"
His smile fades, and he looks away. "Not… exactly. When the professor distanced himself from me, he also pulled away from you. Eventually, you were so discouraged that you eventually returned to your hometown." He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry to say that I haven't spoken with you in quite some time, although I know that you're in good health."
Flora's heart sank. She wouldn't do that, would she? She'd stay with Luke, and fight to return the professor to his ordinary self, or, at least, to put a stop to his wrongdoing—or, at least, she wants to believe that's what she'd do. She wants to ask more questions; she wants to know why she would run away from her problems, while Luke was brave enough to face them, but he looks horribly uneasy again. These past ten years… they must have been so hard for him. He's lost so many people… his parents, the professor, herself...
She won't press any harder; not yet. She doesn't want to hurt him any more than he's already been hurt.
"I'm sorry," is all that she says. "Thank you for telling me."
"Not a problem," he says, turning to go.
She can't let him go yet; not when he's hurting like this. "Luke?"
"Yes, Flora?" he says patiently, turning around once more, and Flora's afraid that he's annoyed with her, that he's seen through her stalling tactics. She promises herself that this is the last time she'll try to stop him from leaving; she'll be okay on her own.
"If… if you ever want to talk about anything, just let me know." She fiddles with the cuffs of her sleeves, unable to look him in the face. "It sounds like you've had a really hard time, and… I sort of know how you feel. So I don't want you to feel alone. I'll be here for you if you need anything."
An odd smile appears on Luke's face, a strange mix between sincerity and discomfort. "You're really too kind, Flora. Thank you." He turns his back on her once again, this time lifting his hat as a farewell sign as he walks. "I'll see you soon."
And then Flora's alone.
She tries to swallow the lump in her throat as she sits down in the lobby. Margaret is snoozing in the corner, and that makes her feel a little bit better; at least there's someone else in the room. Then Becky comes down the stairs, carrying a basket of laundry. Flora's face must reflect how uneasy she is, because Becky shoots her a concerned look. Flora summons up a smile, and Becky nods, moving on to her next task.
At least there are a few friendly people here. Flora's glad for that, but she pulls her feet up onto the couch (thank goodness Margaret is sleeping), drawing her knees against her chest. She lets her head rest against her kneecaps, hugging her legs, and hopes that the professor and Little Luke are alright, and wonders what could be so important that even Big Luke, who seemed so concerned for her before, would leave her all alone.