Chapter Text
There were very few things that Laszlo could find enjoyment in, and even fewer things he found perfection. Opera was one of those things. Ever since he was young, it offered an escape for him, a way to forget what was happening around him, to him, and escape to a world better than this. His love of opera transcended through the years, so much so he had gotten himself his own box, so he may have a seat whenever he wished. Tomorrow night, they were premiering Gounod’s Faust, a tragic and frightful tale of love and hell. Opera did provide an escape, but sometimes, it allowed him to live vicariously through the characters, and never more so than the love stories.
He wasn’t delusional; he knew people didn’t like him, he doesn’t have the personality, the charm, or the looks to be of any interest to any woman. Perhaps if he wasn’t always haunted by his past, perhaps if his right arm was normal, perhaps if he wasn’t an alienist. Too many perhaps to count, but there was no changing such things, he was who he was. That was all.
And as of late, there wasn’t much time to focus on matters of the heart, for there was a case that he had to give all his attention to. With the help of John Moore, an old Harvard college, they worked to try to find the killer. John is a handsome man who often Laszlo looked at and felt a pang of envy, for he was all that Laszlo was not. John had the personality, the charm, the looks, the ability to button his own boots. But despite whatever differences they had, despite the habits that John had that Laszlo disapproved of, John was a good man and a friend. They were walking back from a crime scene, when Laszlo noticed how John looked a bit pale but managed to walk on. “What on God’s green earth could ever possess anyone to do such heinous crimes? Those children…”
“Heinous as it is,” Laszlo said, his tone even, “We must pursue this killer, endure the horror, if not to prevent another from meeting the same fate.”
“I wonder how you can stomach it,” John says.
“Because I have to, John. And now you must too.”
John would have argued, saying he didn’t have to or want to be part of this infernal investigation, but then a sudden cry from the dark and empty street made them turn to the sound. Without a second thought, both men came running to the source, hearing a desperate cry for help.
“Help! Please, somebody! Let me go!”
They turned the corner and saw a man struggling with a woman, who was trying to fight back. John called out, hoping that the perpetrator would be spooked and release the woman, but Laszlo didn’t think twice and using his cane went in and attacked the man. In the attack, the perp released the woman and went to try to attack the doctor, but despite how he looked, Laszlo knew how to knock a man down and out in three steps. John watched in wonder and it took until Laszlo to speak to break him from his spell.
“John, flag a policeman, quickly!” He watched to make sure John did as he was told, then turned to the figure who was curled on the ground, her body shaking. Carefully, he approached, his voice soft, he called for her. “Miss? Miss?” She turned to the sound, her face was pale, a glazed over look in her eyes, and Laszlo knew she was in shock. “Miss. My name is Dr. Laszlo Kreisler, are you harmed in anyway?”
The young woman’s eyes fell to the uncurious man and she gasped, as if coming back to reality. At this point, John had returned with a policeman, and the two dragged the unconscious man away as John explained what had happened. As this went on, Laszlo slipped his overcoat off and wrapped it around her, noticing how much she was shivering. “Do you live near here? Allow us to take you home.”
He saw that her lips moved quickly, and he leaned in to catch her address. “409 Bradshaw Avenue.”
Now having an address, he stood, offering his good hand to her, helping her up. But due to her still in shock, her legs were not as strong and all he could do was hold her upright until John could come. It was times like these he felt less like a man, for he couldn’t even carry the young lady to make sure she didn’t collapse. John returned and noticed the sight. “Is she alright?”
“In shock, but once we get her home, I’ll take a proper look at her. Take her,” he gently passed her to John, who scooped her into his arms with ease, “I’ll catch a cab.” John followed close behind and once one was taken, the trio immediately went inside an off they were to Bradshaw Avenue.
As they rode on, Laszlo looked at the young woman, who looked to be in a deep shock, her face peering towards the window. The only sign that he had that she wasn’t too far gone was her small hands peering from his coat to hold it close to her. The ride was silent, but quick, and Laszlo hopped out, allowing John to take the woman again as he knocked on the door. At last, an older woman answered the door and looked shocked at the sight. “Good Lord!”
“Pardon us,” Laszlo muttered, before pushing through and clearing a way for John to bring her in. That familiar pang of envy struck him as he watched John place the woman down on the sofa with ease. Now was not a time for his insecurities to get the better of him, his focus should be only on the care of the young woman.
“May I ask who you two think you are, barging in like this?”
Laszlo sighed, feeling a slight agitation arise. “Madam, I am Dr. Laszlo Kreisler, this is Mr. John Moore. We happened upon this young woman who was attacked and needs to be looked after. So, if you don’t mind, bring us a brandy or sherry, something strong for her to drink. Now!” He didn’t look back at the woman to see if she would, but knelt down and went to work on the young woman.
John shot an apologetic look to the lady then moved closer to the patient. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Stoke the fire. She must be kept warm.” Laszlo slipped his overcoat off enough to assess her. There was no visible tears in her dress to suggest any cuts or bleeding. The woman returned with a glass of brandy, handing it off to the doctor. “John,” he called, making the man come to him, “Hold her head up enough so she can drink this.”
John cradled her head and watched as the doctor gently let the liquid pass her lips and then in a sudden moment, she began to cough, breaking the spell. John stepped back, moving to get a better look at her, making sure he wasn’t in the way. When she had her bearings, she noticed the doctor first and asked in a soft voice, “Who are you?”
“I am Dr. Kreisler, this is Mr. Moore.” Her eyes glanced over to the other man, but then back to the doctor. “We are in the safety of your home. Do you remember what happened?”
She paused, then nodded. “Is he-”
“He has been apprehended,” John spoke, his voice kind and smooth.
“Please tell us what happened, as I check your person, if I may.”
The woman gave her consent and as Laszlo checked her, she told her story. “I was walking to return home and I had a feeling I was being followed. So I began to walk faster, hoping to get away, but he picked his pace up as well. I didn’t realize how close he was until I felt his hand on my arm and then I screamed.”
“He hadn’t molested you, did he?”
“Laszlo!” John exclaimed, appalled the choice of words.
“That is what it’s called, John. I will not ‘put it delicately’, as you might say.”
“No,” she answered, “He hadn’t, but…” She trailed off, a shiver went up her spine, thinking of how he may have, or worse.
“Perhaps it would have been a lesson,” the older woman said, “Walking alone at night. Like some common prostitute.”
“Or perhaps the better lesson would be to the man who not attack women in the first place,” Laszlo retorted harshly, “Many of the world’s problems would be solved if men were taught how to behave rather than telling women what to do to accommodate their poor behaviors.”
The woman’s mouth was pressed so tightly, they disappeared in shame. Even John wouldn’t provide some comfort, for he knew that Laszlo was right and did not dare say anything to correct or apologize for his rightfully harsh words. The young woman looked pleased, even perhaps a bit impressed. Laszlo stood and said to the woman, “I believe you’re condition is not serious. Get a good night’s rest, stay warm and eat even if you do not feel like it. I shall come again tomorrow to check on you.”
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile, her eyes shifted briefly to John then back to Laszlo, “I would like that.” She shifted to sit up and realized she was on his overcoat. “Oh, here,” she managed to slip his coat off and handed it to him, “Thank you for keeping me warm.”
“Of course.”
“Well,” John stepped in, taking the young lady’s hand, “We should bid you goodnight, Miss…”
“Lind.”
“Miss Lind. A pleasure.” John press a polite kiss to her hand, to which she offered a polite but warm smile.
John turned to Laszlo and gave him a look, telling him to do the same. He stepped up awkwardly and did the same, but he shook her hand rather than kissed it. There was an awkward exchange, as he offered his left hand, and she, not being used to that, wasn’t sure if she should make the switch or not, but ultimately did with a little laugh. “I’ll be here around 10 o’ clock.” And with that, they left, unaware that the young woman was staring after them, with a look of admiration and wonder in her eyes.
“How could anyone ever think to harm a helpless woman like that?” John mused as they approached his home, “Is there no decency in the world anymore?”
“Decency is what we make of it. But,” he said, “You are right. It’s a mad world to live in when such things could happen to good people.”
“What a shame, that a young and lovely woman such as herself can’t even walk home without danger. Well, good night.”
“Yes,” Laszlo agreed softly as John disappeared into his house, “She was lovely indeed.” When back in the comfort of his home, he thought back on the series of events, thinking of her. He had been lucky that he and John were there when they were, or else something terrible could have happened. He dreamt of the horrifying possibilities and it kept him up for part of the night.
He couldn’t wait to see her again, just to make quell his nagging thoughts. That was all.
He was on time to the young woman’s residence, and he was pleased to see that there was color in her cheeks and her disposition was cheerful. “Dr. Kreisler, so good to see you again.” She noticed he was alone and asked, “Oh, the other man isn’t with you?”
“No, Mr. Moore is otherwise detained, but he did want me to wish you well.”
She nodded and a look came across her face that Laszlo noticed and her cheeks turned slightly pink. She moved aside to let him in and then brought him to the drawing room. When he stepped in, he noticed the drawing room was not as furbished as most other drawing rooms, which made him realize that this wasn’t the most suitable place for a young woman to be. He only removed his hat, not intending to stay for very long, just enough to make sure she was well. She stood and waited for his instruction, and he had her do the simplest of tasks, such as walk in a straight line, finger to nose coordination, follow his finger, etc. All the while, he noted that her attitude was very different from the night before, cheerful even.
“Well, your physical person seems unharmed. You haven’t had any complications, have you?”
“None. Oh, just a small bruise on my hip, but I slept like a baby.”
“Good. And you seem to not suffer any mental trauma, which is very good.” He went to retrieve his hat and would have bid her farewell, but the young woman spoke first.
“Would you like to join me for some tea?”
He would have said no, made an excuse that he had to return to his institution, but her smile was sweet and her eyes tender, that somewhere in him, he couldn’t dare refuse. Instead, he set his hat down, removed his coat to lay it beside the hat and sat in the chair across from her. He had to admire her ability to try and make the most of the situation, and he refrained from making mention of the tea set that clearly was from different companies.
“I never got to properly thank you for your help last night,” she broke the silence while pouring the tea.
“Well, last night was a whirlwind of events, one couldn’t blame you if it slipped your mind.”
Handing his cup, she settled in her seat and took care of her own cup. “Well, I am eternally grateful for your assistance the other night. The thought of what could have happened…” She paused, but then shook her head, as if to rid her dark thoughts. “No need to think of such dark things. Dr. Kreizler, that sounds foreign. As I recalled, that other man called you Laszlo. This may be a wild guess, but, was your mother Hungarian and your father German?”
He looked at her surprised. “Uh, yes. Forgive me, most people hardly can tell what my background is, no one has ever correctly guessed as you have.”
“My father’s family comes from Germany, and I had come to know the differences, since many people have confused my name with others. I’ve gotten Swedish, Scottish, Dutch, but no one seems to guess German. My mother was English, I was born and raised English, but I feel somewhere in my heart that I am more German.”
“You seem to take pride in your heritage.”
“Indeed, my father was a good man, the kindest I’ve ever known. Sensible, respectful, but most of all, family was the most important thing to him. He was a music teacher, one of the finest, and I learned much from him. I wish he was here now.” She looked down at her cup, then took a sip, as if to shut herself up. “I’m sorry,” she half whispered, “I shouldn’t burdened you with my past.”
Thinking of his own father, Laszlo had a sullen look on his face. “So rarely do we get the fathers we want, and how precious it is when we get them, but not realize it until it’s too late.”
“Too true. May I ask,” changing the subject, as she could tell it made the doctor unhappy, “What it is you are a doctor of?”
“I am an alienist, which means I focus more on the human mind rather than the body. Though, I have had to care a person’s physical needs when the mental side harms it in any way.”
“Sounds very equal parts fascinating and daunting.”
“It can be. Especially when you think of the lives you are responsible for. I did have a case once, a boy who wanted to dress in his sister’s clothes and take on her mannerisms, I had told his parents that there was nothing wrong with his curiosity and to be accepting of it. Sometime later, he and his sister were killed, his mother blamed me for his death, for the killer had targeted him for his behavior, of which I told her to encourage. I think about those children all the time.” Laszlo looked at the young woman and gave a small shook of his head. “Forgive me, I just realized, I’ve not spoken this much to a stranger about myself. You are quite easy to talk to.”
“And I can say the same for you. But, perhaps your job is what makes people feel they could talk to you.”
“Rather, it’s the opposite. Many are turned off by the idea of being acquainted with an alienist.”
“I’m not.” Her smile was most sincere, that Laszlo actually believed it.
Somewhere, the clock chimed, prompting him to pull out his own pocket watch to check the time. He stood, grabbing his hat and coat then said, “I thank you for the tea, but I am afraid I must return to my work.”
“Of course,” she said, standing and followed him to the door. “It was a pleasure, and please, pass my gratitude to your friend, Mr. Moore, I believe was his name?”
“Yes, and I shall. Good day Miss Lind.” He once again took her hand and shook it, and this time, she knew better to offer her left one.
It was puzzling to him, but for the rest of the day, he thought of the young woman and of their conversation. He even analyzed himself to figure out how he could have behaved in such a manner, but all he could come up with was that she was approachable, more so than anyone he had ever known. Then he began to think of the things she said, of how she knew his nationality, a small glimpse of her family life. She didn’t seem to be like most of the women he had come in contact with; not vapid or rude like the society women, nor was she bold as brass as Miss Sara Howard. He hoped to meet her again, just to try and truly understand her. That was all.