Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE: The Comet Coastliner

Aesop has been on trains a few times in his life, but never so regularly as these past six months. The Comet coastliner is used often by regular commuters; the same work-worn crowd populates the same weathered blue recliners, and as such he's taken to observing the usual patrons. This morning, however, he finds himself greeted by an unfamiliar face.

"Ticket, please," the curly-haired attendant prompts with a smile, an expectant palm upturned in Aesop's direction. He wears freckles across his nose and a far more pleasant expression than the usual ticket-taker. Aesop realizes a moment too late that his wonder is written quite plainly on his face, schooling his expression back into neutrality as he passes his ticket along as he always does.

The morning crowd bustles to and from the train cars, crossing the platforms with haste. Train engines rumble, steam billowing from their chimneys, and a screeching whistle sounds behind them as another train pulls into the station. The attendant's name tag reads "Mike", Aesop notes. He steps from the platform onto the train when Mike steps to the side to let him pass, again a moment too late. Aesop shakes his head. He’s off to a poor start.

He'd started the morning tardily, kept out late the night before for an emergency at the clinic, and had hardly made it to the station in time to catch the last morning train. He slips through the crowd in a hasty attempt to reach his seat before the train leaves the station, holding his briefcase aloft as he squeezes past businesspeople and casual commuters alike.

Aesop is sliding his briefcase onto the overhead luggage rack when the train first lurches forward. He stumbles, unaccustomed to the feeling; a hand finds his shoulder, propping him up just long enough for him to grasp the luggage rack himself. He brushes the hand away out of instinct, turning to look over his shoulder where blue eyes flecked with gold stare back at him.

"Ah, sorry," he clears his throat, looking away to fiddle with his tie. "Thanks."

Mike's hand hovers nearby for a moment, and Aesop quickly retreats, slipping past him to shrink into the seat beside the window. Aesop looks back to the aisle, but Mike is already well on his way toward the front of the compartment to mingle with the other staff. Aesop turns his gaze to the window, mind wandering - he can hardly think of what will face him when he reaches the office without heaving a deep sigh. He’d left it quite a mess last night in his rush to catch the last train. No doubt Emily will chide him for it, as if he can do anything about it now.

He’d understood her panic the previous night. If he’d been in her shoes he wouldn’t have been able to hold a needle, let alone perform surgery, but the forceful way in which she’d commanded him, practically forcing his hand…it had left a bad taste in his mouth and shaken him far more than any professional should be shaken. It was his fault there had been complications. If only he could have done the reduction correctly the first time…

His hand traces the gold trailing from his right welt pocket to his breast, where his fingers curl around the end of the chain. He grasps at thin air for a moment before looking to the empty space where his pocket watch should be.

Aesop sucks in a desperate breath. How had he not noticed the missing weight? It had been there when he had boarded, he had made sure of that. Had it fallen in the crowd, kicked under a seat somewhere?

He can’t afford to lose it.

He stands, ducking into the aisle in an apprehensive, jerky movement. He fumbles with his briefcase, unlocking it with desperate fingers, and swears under his breath when the watch is nowhere to be seen. Passengers in the seats surrounding his turn to look so he ducks his head, his gaze firmly on the carpet at his feet as he walks back down the compartment toward the door. The urge to turn back grows stronger the more eyes he feels on his gloved hands, his shoulders, his back, and still his watch is nowhere to be found. Not once does he catch a glimpse of gold shining at his feet; despair begins to prickle behind his eyes. As he reaches the back of the compartment, he feels a hand on his shoulder again.

"You should-"

Aesop turns quickly, pressing his back against the door, and is hardly relieved when his eyes meet Mike's once again. He looks away as Mike freezes mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open in a rather dumb fashion.

Mike blinks away his surprise, and his tone suddenly carries a touch of concern. "Are you okay?"

Aesop ducks his head, wiping the tears from his eyes before they have a chance to fall, and dispenses a shaky, unstable breath. He wants to lie, but the words don't reach his tongue. Instead he clutches at the empty space where his watch should be, his lips never quite matching the pace of his mind. "I-I lost…"

His struggle is punctuated by a gasp of frustration. Mike steps toward him, and Aesop does his best to disappear into the wood paneling at his back. They both freeze.

"Could you step aside? I need to access the next car," Mike asks with an unreadable expression, and after a moment of abject terror, Aesop silently ducks into the empty aisle seat closest to him. Mike brushes past, sliding the compartment door open, and nods to Aesop. "You coming?"

It sounds more like a request than an inquiry, and in the seconds it takes Aesop to consider why Mike has already stepped through to the next compartment, leaving the door open for him. Tentatively he steps back into the aisle and through the door, from faded grey carpet onto cast steel. He stands for a moment in the gangway, a rush of cold air striking his cheeks as the tracks rush by below. It’s far louder here, perhaps too loud, and he hurries into the next compartment, allowing this door to slide shut behind him as well.

This car is empty save for a few lonely souls. Mike stands in the aisle, his hands on the ears of the seats on either side of him.

“Sit. I’ll be right back,” Mike nods to one of the seats close to the front, far from anyone else in the car. Aesop, unsure what exactly has possessed the attendant, takes a seat. If anyone could find his watch…it would be a staff member, right? He can’t help but wring his hands together, pressing his fingers painfully against his gloved palms, cracking the joints within. When Mike returns it’s with a paper cup of water in hand, and he passes it to Aesop before taking a seat across the aisle.

“Thank you,” Aesop mumbles out of habit, accepting the cup in an automatic motion. He’d mucked up the surgery, lost his watch…maybe he doesn’t deserve it back. All Jerry had asked was that he keep it safe. He couldn’t even do that much.

“What did you lose?” Mike asks, propping his chin in his hand, his elbow on the armrest of his seat. He gives Aesop his full attention, eyes uncomfortably piercing. Aesop stares at him for a moment, working to understand Mike’s intention. He quickly realizes he doesn’t have time to spare on such a concern.

“I believe my pocket watch fell somewhere in the other compartment,” Aesop admits, taking a shallow sip from his cup. He wants to pretend he doesn’t know Mike is watching him closely, but it’s hard not to feel the pinch of such a penetrating gaze. Mike doesn’t say anything in reply for a moment, and Aesop nearly chokes on his drink, lowering the cup and coughing until his throat clears. His gaze falls to his lap. “I thought maybe it had fallen beneath a seat.”

After another moment of tense silence, Mike chuckles, a smile spreading across his face. “That’s all?”

Aesop turns to look at him then, his frown deepening. “Nevermind-”

“Calm down. I’ll go look.”

Mike peers down the aisle before standing and striding quickly back to the main compartment. Andrew is making his way over from the far end of the car, and he slows to a stop, eyebrows raised as Mike approaches.

"Decided to come out of hiding?" Andrew quips, very much unamused. Mike thinks his grimace highlights the bags under his eyes quite nicely. "I have enough work to do without you running off the customers, you know."

Mike, as usual, ignores him, leaning into the empty seat at his hip. He nods toward the back of the compartment. "Have you seen a pocket watch around? That doctor said he lost his."

Andrew shakes his head, grasping his own pocket watch absentmindedly. He turns back toward the front of the train with a tired hum. "I'll keep an eye out."

Mike paces the full length of the car a few times, even bending down by the seats nearest the door. He doesn't spy the watch, though, and returns to the doctor a few minutes later empty-handed. Aesop looks up the moment Mike steps through the door, and he raises his hands in defeat. "Sorry. I didn't see it."

The reaction he expects is dismissal, perhaps minor disappointment, but before the doctor's face turns down again Mike spies the way it crumples, eyebrows knitting together and frown morphing into a grimace. The doctor clutches at his chest, his watch chain gripped tightly between trembling fingers.

"Come on, it can't be that hard to find a new one," he chides good-naturedly, though his commentary falls on deaf ears.

Aesop can't help but feel betrayed - by who he isn't sure, but every part of his body feels rock-heavy with the weight of it. He takes in one difficult, shuddering breath, clenching one hand tightly around the watch chain. The plating presses painfully against his palm through the glove, threatening to pierce the soft skin there; he welcomes the discomfort. He should have paid more attention. Is it karma for last night? It must be. He’ll arrive at the office and the patient will have passed, and Emily will-

“Drink,” Mike dictates, tapping the base of Aesop’s cup where it lies on the armrest. He’d come to kneel in the aisleway, his eyes meeting Aesop’s when the doctor finally looks up. He holds himself like a frightened animal, eyes wide and teary. Mike is astonished that a man of such tall stature can make himself appear so small - such a sight feels like injustice. He nods to the doctor when he makes no move to lift the cup. “Go on.”

Aesop dedicates a moment to blinking the tears away from his eyes, but his vision remains blurry despite his effort. He finally lifts the cup to his lips again, feeling rather pitiful all the while. Aesop would like nothing more than to disappear at this moment…but he can’t do that, he knows. There are people depending on him elsewhere. It’s a shame Mike saw him like this. He’ll never be able to look the man in the eye again.

When the cup meets the armrest anew, Aesop feels a bit more composed. He brushes a stray tear from his cheek as if it hadn’t been precipitated by a dozen others and releases the breath he’d been holding in a careful sigh. He clears his throat, looking past Mike to the compartment’s door - his escape - as he speaks. “Thank you. My stop will be coming up soon.”

It’s a damn shame, Mike thinks, how closed-off the doctor is all of a sudden. At least he'd had the decency to express thanks; Mike did waste quite a bit of time looking for that watch. He stands again and takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the way they shake.

“No problem,” he mutters, turning toward the back of the car. If he’s so unpleasant after all that the doctor can’t even look at him, two can play that game. It’s a bit spiteful, he knows, but he had expected something in return for his effort. A spark of decency, perhaps? “Have a great day.”

Aesop is already halfway out the door in his haste to escape, guilt nagging at him for dismissing the attendant so easily as he stops in the gangway again to gather himself. It’s for the best, anyway - perhaps Mike will make it easy on Aesop and avoid him with equal enthusiasm.

He reaches his seat without further ado, his briefcase still open where he'd left it nestled between unfamiliar bags in the luggage rack. He reaches overhead to latch it shut, then ducks into his seat again and stares blankly out the window for the remainder of the ride.

“Oletus Station! Oletus Station next,” the conductor, Andrew, calls out as he passes. He walks the length of the compartment and passes into the next car. As the door closes behind him passengers begin to stand, stretching their limbs and pulling their bags from the overhead storage. Aesop doesn’t rush, waiting for the other passengers to take their bags to their seats. He traces the city streets outside his window with wandering eyes instead, only moving toward the aisle once the station is in sight.

Mike is already there, his arms stretching over Aesop’s head to snag the handle of his briefcase. Aesop stops short in his seat, an involuntary twitch stabbing at his eyelid.

“Here you go,” Mike drops it onto the seat beside Aesop, eyes cold. “Don’t go forgetting this, too.”

Aesop’s eyebrows meet as he takes hold of the briefcase. Mike watches him for a moment longer before turning away with a shrug.

How odd, Aesop wonders bitterly, then resolves not to linger here any longer. Emily will be waiting for him.

The walk to the office feels longer than usual. Perhaps it’s the time of day - he typically makes this journey in the early morning, and especially in the winter months the streets are always rather empty. This morning he has people to dodge, and the sheer volume of traffic prevents him from crossing the street despite his haste on more than one occasion. When he does finally reach the practice, Emily greets him at the door. She carries with her a faint lavender fragrance.

“You’re late,” she states factually, her white gown already soiled at the torso. Her right hand is still raw, the flesh on her palm pink and inflamed.

“Sorry,” Aesop replies as if it means anything to her. He sheds his coat and hangs it carefully over the hook beside the door. “How is Emma?”

“Well enough. She’s sleeping now,” Emily sighs, finally giving him a good look up and down. She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “What happened to your watch?”

Aesop grimaces as she turns to walk down the hall to the washroom, struggling for long enough to find the words that he decides the silence may as well stretch on. He crosses the hall to the office opposite the washroom, placing his briefcase on the desk furthest from the door where he can hear Emily digging through the cabinetry beside the sink.

She hums distractedly, knocking the cabinet door shut in a bout of misplaced frustration. Aesop pauses in clicking the lock on his briefcase to approach the doorway, and they meet there on either side of the hall, Emily looking up at him with judgment in her eyes. She considers him for a moment, then crosses her arms and says, “Would you find the shears for me? I’m going to lay down for an hour or two, then I need you to wake me so I can change Emma’s dressings.”

Aesop nods, absently caressing the chain hanging from his breast pocket, and Emily steps away without much fanfare. The stairs creak as she climbs them, the cherry wood having seen better days, and Aesop steps into the parlor down the hall as the house falls silent.

It used to be a parlor, anyway. Nowadays the old house Emily had inherited from her estranged uncle looks more like a war zone. At first they had designated just one room for inpatient care, but as more clients of varying backgrounds had found their way past the front door, division had become a necessity rather than a luxury. Aesop plucks the shears from the floor beneath the coffee table where they had fallen in his panic last night, brushing away a thin crusting of blood. He'll have to give the room a thorough once-over before Emily wakes.

He brings them to the washroom for a round of disinfectant, hoping Emily is already soundly asleep in her bed. He thinks of changing Emma’s dressings himself, but considering his performance last night he’d best not risk it. Emily has become much more lenient with him in her desperate struggle for control during the years they’ve worked together, however Emma has fallen further and further out of bounds.

He takes a bleached cloth from the cabinetry, drying the shears as he steps into the room where Emma is sleeping peacefully. Aesop is glad to finally confirm for himself that she’s still breathing. He places the shears on the table at her bedside and quickly gathers everything else Emily will need; it’s as close to a peace offering as they come.

Aesop retires to the office once again, reaching for his briefcase with some relief. He had fallen into bed last night without completing a single piece of paperwork, regretfully, and so he has quite a bit of work cut out for him this morning. The case opens with a click, and Aesop stills, a loose leaf of paper resting atop his folders and files.

He grasps it with unsteady fingers, lifting it up to eye-level to decipher the scratchy script that spells out the last words Aesop wants to read.

Dear Mr. Carl,

FIND THE WATCH.

- J