Chapter Text
Albert hugged him at the docks before he boarded his ship. He did so as if it were the most natural thing in the world, with a cheerful, “So long, Barok!”
The warmth of his arms was no match against the chill around Barok’s heart, though. He wanted to savor the friendly gesture, but he just felt numb, as if he were a witness to an event happening to someone else.
In a way, he was. Albert was hugging a memory. The Barok van Zieks he believed in and considered a friend had faded away long ago. Only a shadow of him remained. This was all Barok could do for him now—send him away selflessly, to save his life, and selfishly, so Albert’s memory of him remained as untarnished as possible.
“You will write, won’t you?” Albert asked. “And you’ll tell me when it’s safe for me to return to London?”
“I will,” Barok said, his heart heavy.
“Oh good! We have so much to catch up on, after all.” Albert let go of him and boarded the ship at last, waving all the while.
Barok stood at the docks and stared after the departing ship. He could still feel the lingering remnants of the warmth from a hug meant for his past self. He clutched his badge and closed his eyes.
Perhaps it was better for both of them if he broke his promise to write.
#
The final day of his trial was the longest day of Barok’s life. He was in a daze from the revelations of the trial, barely able to focus on the people around him. He felt like if he let his composure slip for even a second, he would break down right there in the lobby.
With Asogi shadowing him after his unfathomable insistence that Barok remain a prosecutor, he turned to leave.
A hand caught his elbow. “Wait, Lord van Zieks—”
Surprised, he turned to face Naruhodo. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Naruhodo?”
The young lawyer looked at him for a moment without saying a word. He seemed torn, even though he was the one who had called out. Then he took a step forward and hugged him.
Barok froze. Of all the things to happen today, this somehow felt the most surreal.
“I’m sorry I brought such a painful truth out into the open,” Naruhodo whispered. “I mean, it’s probably for the best that you found out, but I’m sorry I had to do it like that, in front of everyone in the courtroom.”
As if learning the truth about Klint would have felt any better in private. Barok swallowed, his fragile composure already on the brink of shattering. “You did what you had to do. I don’t blame you.”
Still, Naruhodo squeezed him tighter. “Everything will be all right, Lord van Zieks. Things will get better, I promise.”
This felt strange. Dangerous. Like he might get too used to this sort of treatment and lose the last of those barriers he’d erected to protect himself. Yet the same time, he couldn’t wholly deny how good it felt to be comforted. He couldn’t work up the strength to push Naruhodo away.
At last, the smaller man released him. “Sorry, I won’t keep you any longer.” His smile was so kind and guileless that Barok found himself at a loss.
He was still searching for the words to say in response when another hand touched his shoulder, and he turned in shock as Miss Mikotoba pulled him into a gentle hug.
“You must be in a great deal of pain,” she said, “even if you’re trying to hide it. I hope you understand that you need not bear everything yourself, Lord van Zieks.”
“That’s right,” Naruhodo said. “There are people who care about you.”
When the young woman at last released him, Barok clutched his badge and bowed deeply to them. “You both have shown me far greater kindness than I deserve.” He had treated them terribly since their arrival in London, and they responded with forgiveness and compassion. It was almost too much to bear. “I thank you.”
Then he left the courthouse at last, the memory of their warmth still fresh in his mind in contrast to the freezing cold his heart had plunged into once again, and only his stubborn refusal to break down in front of Asogi kept him holding onto any shred of composure at all.
#
Two weeks later, when Barok could think about the trial without breaking down, he responded to Iris’s repeated invitations to join her for tea and visited 221B Baker Street.
Iris answered the door and let him in with a smile. “Mr. Reaper, come in!” She paused and covered her mouth. “I probably shouldn’t call you that anymore, should I?”
“You may call me whatever you wish.” He entered the flat and glanced around.
“If you’re looking for Hurley, he stepped out a few minutes ago.”
He could not entirely mask his sigh of relief. “That is more than fine.” Belatedly remembering that Sholmes, for all his faults, had raised Iris, he added, “Pray forgive the discourtesy.”
Iris giggled. “I’m sure you and Hurley will become great friends once you get used to him!”
“I highly doubt that.” Nor did he expect to spend enough time in that detective’s company to get used to him in the first place. Even visiting for Iris’s sake brought too many dangers. While this visit fulfilled his promise to her, any further time spent together would likely destroy her illusions about him, as well. No, it was best for all concerned if this was both the first and last time he called upon her.
His musing was disrupted by a tiny form colliding with his waist as Iris threw her arms around him in a hug.
“M-Miss Wilson?” he asked in shock.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come at all! I made a wonderful new blend of tea just for you, Mr. Barry.”
“What did you just call me?”
“Mr. Barry!” She beamed up at him. “Your first name is Barok, right? So since it’s not fair to call you Mr. Reaper anymore, I’ll call you Mr. Barry!”
“I… see.”
She was family, even if she didn’t know it; he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing as he had the past few times someone had inexplicably hugged him. So he tentatively placed an arm around her small shoulders and hugged her in return.
He wanted his family back.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, Barok pulled away. He couldn’t afford to get too close to her. He could never start thinking of Iris as his family. It was better for her sake if he remained at a distance forever.
Iris looked startled at his sudden movement, but she recovered quickly. She smiled and waved her hand toward a table set for tea. “Please sit down, and I’ll bring your tea right away!”
It would be rude to flee now. Despite his misgivings, Barok forced himself to sit down and wait to share tea with the niece he could never acknowledge, no matter how much he yearned for family.
All through the afternoon, he was haunted by the treacherous weakness of his own heart.
#
Slowly, Barok’s life fell into an ordinary routine, or at least the hollow facsimile of one. He mentored Asogi as promised and avoided contact with him otherwise. Genshin’s son deserved better than his company and the constant reminder it would provide. Letters arrived from Naruhodo and Miss Mikotoba, and he filed them away unanswered in the same drawer in which he kept the letters from Albert. When they never heard from him again, it should come as a great relief to them to know they were under no obligation to correspond with him. Iris was the most persistent, but if he continued refusing her invitations, eventually she would lose interest.
Today, he’d prosecuted a fairly simple trial marred only by the new whispers about the Professor that now accompanied the shadow of the Reaper. Afterward, having parted from Asogi to spare him the pain of dealing with his company, he had nothing to do but return to the manor, which seemed emptier than ever these days.
He was almost there when a familiar silhouette appeared in the corner of his vision.
“Mr. Reaper!”
Barok kept his gaze averted and increased his speed. Perhaps he could lose him, or at least make it clear that he did not want to be disturbed.
Sholmes chased after him, thoroughly disregarding the wishes his rapid pace was attempting to convey. “Mr. Reaper!”
Barok walked even faster.
“What a pleasant coincidence it is that our paths should happen to cross tonight!” Sholmes shouted, as if he wasn’t chasing him down the street. “If I don’t miss my guess, you were hoping to run into me, too!”
“You have missed your guess by the widest margin imaginable!” Barok shouted back.
“That’s where you’re mistaken.” The detective caught up and matched his pace. “For at this exact moment, you appear to need a hug.”
“I most certainly do not.”
He moved faster, and so did Sholmes.
They made it all the way to the edge of the van Zieks estate in such a fashion, where at last Barok sighed and turned around to demand Sholmes leave instead of following him onto the premises.
Before he could say a word, Sholmes threw his arms around his shoulders. “Here you go, Mr. Reaper, the hug you’ve been hoping for all day. My intuition about such things is truly infallible!”
“Get off of me, you pest!” Barok struggled in vain while Sholmes clung to him, draped across his shoulders like a human-shaped blanket as he tried to escape to the safety of his manor.
He was seriously weighing how angry Iris would be if he injured her guardian when Sholmes finally let go and stepped back. “I’m sure you’re feeling much better now, Mr. Reaper. You can thank me anytime, preferably with an invitation to dinner.”
“The only thing I’ll thank you for is for getting off of my property.”
After several more grandiose entreaties for the gratitude he thought he deserved for the hug, Sholmes finally left. By the time Barok got inside, he had a raging headache, though at least the manor’s emptiness now felt like welcome sanctuary.
#
The next night, however, he could not escape the loneliness.
Deep, inescapable loneliness had haunted the manor ever since Klint’s death, yet it somehow became worse in the weeks after the trial. All happiness Barok might once have hoped for now left him behind, lingering just out of reach while he rotted alone in his manor.
He looked up at the portrait of Klint, which he had transferred here after removing it from the Prosecutor’s Office. If only he could return to his days as a child. Or perhaps to his time at university, when he laughed together with Albert without a care in the world. Or even to the later times, when he worked alongside Klint and Genshin believing they would move together into a bright future. His life had been full of good things back then. He had so much.
What remained in his life now? A tarnished reputation he could never escape, an apprentice who despised him, and a niece he must avoid for her own safety.
His throat constricted. More invitations from Iris arrived each week, each one harder to refuse and yet more necessary than ever that he do so. Part of him feared if he was allowed into that warm, inviting atmosphere once again, he wouldn’t have the strength to give it up.
Sometimes he pondered what it would have been like if he’d accepted Iris’s invitation to join their celebration after his trial. Would he have been surrounded by friendship and laughter, accepted into their group and allowed to share a slice of that joy? No… his very presence would have cast a pall over the celebration. If he had been there, no one would have felt anything but discomfort.
The manor closed in on him, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. The memory of all he’d lost taunted him. Nothing remained, nothing at all.
He ran for the doors and fled his own home. The fresh air helped, but only a little. No matter how far he ran, he couldn’t escape being Barok van Zieks.
Caught up in his thoughts, spiraling further and further into darkness, he didn’t realize how much he’d lowered his guard until the first of the assailants stabbed him and he fell onto the cold, lonely street.