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The pit in Hershel’s stomach has been growing since he’d been left alone in the observation room. It wasn’t the same hospital he’d been at a decade prior, nor did it look even remotely the same. The walls were a pale lavender, and the floor was covered in a dark blue carpet. A bookshelf sat opposite the bed, and there was a plant on the windowsill to liven it all up.
It was a pleasant room all-in-all. Relaxing, even. No beeping heart monitors, no sterile white walls and floors and machinery.
Just Hershel, the book in his lap, and the occasional nurse who knocked on the door, peeked in, and asked how he was doing. Hershel responded each time that he was quite alright, received a smile, and then he’d be alone again.
Part of the dread came simply from being in a hospital. If it were up to him, Hershel wouldn’t have gone at all. But Clark and Brenda wouldn’t let him weasel out of it.
He intended to leave Luke with his parents and let them take him while he took Flora home.
“And then you’ll go to the hospital as well, right?” The question was very pointed from Luke’s mother as she carded through his son’s hair.
“Of course.” Hershel doesn’t much like lying, but it slips from his tongue easily.
“I’d like to go with you. I don’t want to be alone while you’re there. Who knows how long you’ll be there?” His ward picks at her sleeves, and he musters a smile.
“It won’t be long. Less than a day, surely. It would be merely observational, to ensure that Luke and I are spick and span after the ordeal.”
“Well, what if you aren’t spick and span?”
“Then I’ll give you a call.”
“And how would I get to the hospital from home?”
“I’m sure the Tritons can drive you.”
Clark clears his throat, “While we wouldn’t mind driving her, I believe it would be easier for us all to go as a group. If there are lingering effects, we wouldn’t want them to happen in transit.”
Hershel tries valiantly to insist that they can drive in separate cars, being that the Laytonmobile was already driven to the Triton’s house and it would be cramped to go all in one car, but the other adults counter with health concerns again.
It wouldn’t be safe for him or Flora to drive in this condition. Not without confirmation from a medical professional that he was healthy.
So somehow, Professor Hershel Layton was cajoled into giving up his keys and cramming himself into the backseat between Flora and Luke. Wonderful. It was exactly what he wanted to be doing at that moment.
The Tritons had managed to cut off all the feeble plans he’d made. He couldn’t even follow them in his car to the hospital and leave after they’d taken Luke inside. He couldn’t leave now without his keys, lest he want to walk to the Triton’s house, break into his own vehicle, and drive home without his ward.
There was no avoiding whatever wrath would surely be coming from the boy’s concerned parents. The lecture on keeping Luke safe was imminent, and even if he avoided it throughout the observation period, he needed to face them to get his keys back.
No amount of spinning the truth could change that he’d put his apprentice in danger.
Luke went with his parents and Flora. Hershel talked to the doctors alone. The girl did look as if she wanted to come with the professor, but he must have looked as overwhelmed as he felt, and Brenda took Flora with the others.
The doctors surely wouldn’t believe ‘ghost town full of hallucinogenic gas’ if he tried to explain himself that way, so Hershel tweaked the truth by dulling the information.
“My apprentice and I ended up in an abandoned mineshaft for a few hours. I believe it was some sort of hallucinogen based on my experiences.”
“I see.” The doctor took some notes on a clipboard, and the professor resisted the urge to fidget in the bed they’d sat him in. He adjusted the brim of his hat instead. “And how long has it been since the end of the exposure?”
“We left in the middle of the night, so it has been over 12 hours.”
“And have you experienced any adverse effects?”
“Nothing apart from a headache, but it’s getting better by the minute.” Not entirely true, but it was better than it was after leaving Folsense.
Hershel declined a checkup and blood test, but agreed to stay for a 6 hour observation period.
“Just until we’re certain that you’re out of the woods, and we can keep an eye out if things take a turn for the worst.”
Since then, there’d been nothing. Despite his exhaustion and headache, Hershel was too tightly wound to fall asleep. Whenever he found himself dozing, his gut would scream that something was wrong and he’d startle himself awake again.
Hate is a strong yet accurate word. Hershel hates hospitals. The thought and concept are perfectly well and good, but he can’t stand to be in any since his coma, and the thought of a loved one requiring hospitalization is equally terrifying. He’d spent enough time in the hospital to make up for the rest of his life, thank you.
The professor hadn’t actually seen a doctor in nearly two years. That time had been forced by Brenda and Clark as well. Luke had spared some details to his parents about the attempted destruction of Monte D’or and Hershel having potentially hurt himself in swinging from a rope, and they’d dragged him to a clinic.
He’d hardly even pulled his shoulder. The visit was entirely unnecessary, especially when all that was recommended in the end was rest and pain medication if needed. Rest isn’t a concept that’s compatible with his lifestyle.
And it’s not compatible now either. Hershel should at least have something to do here. A book, despite how it interests him, doesn’t quite cut it in terms of keeping his mind from wandering. Thus, he abandons it and begins turning puzzles over in his mind. When even that grows dull, Hershel mentally shifts to recent news and possible police cases he’d seen in the papers. The professor hadn’t taken any new policework since Andrew had collapsed. It occupied the entirety of his mind and time between when he and Luke had been shut out from the apartment and the departure on the Molentary Express.
Working on unsolvable police cases as a consultant meant that he hardly ever saw conventional crime scenes or culprits, and on summer break it was a wonderful way to keep his deductive skills sharp. Not to mention the personal fulfillment he received from helping keep people safe.
The door clicks, drawing him from his mindless staring at the wall. He’s prepared to give the nurse another nod, but instead both Clark and Brenda come through the door.
The moment of reckoning is upon them.
“Hello, Hershel. How are you feeling?” The woman asks as the two sit in the chairs by the bed.
“Hello. Well.”
They both seem to wait for more, but he says nothing. There’s not much to say.
Brenda smooths her skirt. Clark adjusts his tie. Hershel stares at the lilac wall ahead of him.
“Luke is well. He’s sleeping.”
“That’s good. We didn’t get much sleep, I’m afraid.”
“He told the whole story to the doctor, actually, though with the addition of his visit being for a hallucinatory agent, I’m not certain they believed him.”
Hershel adjusts his hat. “I’m afraid that my report of the event might have swayed their opinion as well into disbelief.”
He can feel Clark’s gaze burning into him. “Did you lie to the doctor?”
“Not technically.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I told them that we were dosed while inside an abandoned mineshaft. While the ore mined did contain a hallucinogen, the scale of the operation meant that it wasn’t limited to the mineshaft. As such, we were under the influence from the moment we stepped off the train to the moment we stepped back in.”
“Hershel.” The man in question doesn’t react. The wall is such a lovely color, no?
“I didn’t diminish the amount of time we spent under the influence, but I omitted our actions within that time frame.”
“Hershel.”
“Yes?” He does finally look over as the other man leans over to place a hand on his knee.
“Were you hurt at all? Luke said that you got in a swordfight.”
“He was surprisingly agile for his age, though I imagine that the drugs had something to do with it. The mind is a powerful agent.”
The fact that he didn’t quite answer is caught immediately, and Hershel acquiesces that his shoulder had taken the impact in protecting a young woman from getting crushed by falling debris.
Brenda looks exasperated. “And you didn’t think to tell the doctor? Or either of us?”
“It’s just a bruise,” Hershel looks away again. To the blanket this time as he runs a hand over it. A pleasant texture, so he takes to worrying the cloth between his fingers.
“For heaven’s sake, Hershel, we’re in a hospital!” Her voice rises and in his periphery Hershel can see her arms wave about. “This is what you’re here for! To get checked out to make sure this whole thing won’t have any impact!”
Clark tries to calm her by calling her name, but Brenda won’t stop now. “No, Clark, he needs to hear this! We think that you’re on a normal adventure, and suddenly we get a call from you that you both have been drugged? And that’s one thing, but seeing how Luke’s reacted to it all and now you- the doctor said you wouldn’t let yourself get checked out? What if something more happened to you? To Luke?” Her fingers thread in her hair, “I’ve been worrying myself sick all morning, and you’re just brushing this all off like it’s nothing! One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed because you got sick or injured and won’t let anyone help!”
“Brenda-”
“Luke looks up to you! What kind of example are you setting by- by hiding injuries and downplaying what happens and-” She’s tripping over her words in the attempt to get them all out at once.
Hershel, for his part, does try to listen. It’s clearly a feeling that has been brewing for some time, and it would be ungentlemanly to brush her off. But his heart has begun to flutter loudly in his chest, and the roaring in his ears makes it difficult to hear anything outside of his head. That transitions to a floatier sort of feeling, as if he’s removed from the panic that had made a home of his ribcage and the room that he hates. He watches Brenda now, hears the words, but nothing really reaches him.
It’s likely not good. Hershel can recognize that much. That cutting the cord between himself and the world and being untethered in such a manner has never been the best of his responses to stress.
Stress? Is Hershel stressed?
Clark gets his wife to leave the room and take a walk, then the two are alone. Hershel says nothing. Clark says nothing either.
“She’s just been a bit worried. Please don’t take her frustrations to heart.” The blond’s voice is soft, like Hershel could shatter into pieces if he moved too suddenly or spoke too loudly.
Hershel supposes that he did shatter with too much noise just now. Funny. He never thought of himself as so fragile.
He continues to look at the blanket. His hands are trembling as they fidget with the cloth.
“Your adventures with Luke can be a bit…” dangerous is the word that Clark is searching for, “unpredictable. Bren and I don’t know what state the two of you will be in when you return. Sometimes you two are fine, but sometimes…”
Sometimes Hershel has to duel a 70 year old man and evade a collapsing castle while drugged out of his mind.
“Sometimes, like today, we get frightened. We care deeply for the both of you.”
His mouth feels glued shut. There’s a lump in his throat, even as he’d like to explain himself. Not that Hershel was the type to grovel for forgiveness, but it couldn’t hurt in this circumstance. How many times could he bring Luke home worse for wear before they stopped allowing the professor to take care of him? Would the boy even accept it after all they’d gone through side by side?
“Hershel, can you look at me?”
His gaze lifts from the blanket to lock eyes with his friend. Clark’s gaze is intense, searching. What is he looking for?
“Can you speak?”
Could he? His vocal cords were intact and fully functional. He’d been talking a few minutes ago. Had it been minutes?
Hershel’s mouth opens, and nothing comes out. He blinks.
“Alright. That’s alright.” Clark tentatively grabs his hand, then holds it when Hershel doesn’t flinch or pull away. “We’re alright. Could you squeeze my hand so I know you’re listening?”
Hershel does. It’s a simple enough task. His friend’s hands are around the same size as his own, and slightly less calloused. His palms are sweaty.
“Very good. Thank you. Do you want me to stay, or should I go get Brenda?”
They’d developed a system for this way back in uni. On the days when speaking was difficult, he’d write out his thoughts or find some manner to give Clark his thoughts. On the worse days, it became squeezing his hand or tapping on something as an indication of opinion. One for yes, two for no.
Communication was important as roommates, and Clark had thankfully adapted for Hershel’s occasional difficulty. It had come in useful especially during the period after Claire’s death.
As Hershel hesitates, Clark blows out a breath. “Right, sorry. Do you want me to stay?”
No answer again. Hershel does want him to stay. He doesn’t want to be alone in the room, but Brenda would likely want her husband. She needed him more than Hershel did, in any case.
“...Should I go get Brenda?”
A squeeze. Clark squeezes his hand back and lets go with a murmur that he’d be back soon.
‘Soon’ isn’t an exact approximation of time, but it’s long enough that Hershel is able to get back to himself in some capacity. He sits up and centers himself enough that when Clark greets him coming back, the professor greets the couple back.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.” Brenda apologizes as she sits down, and Hershel forces himself to meet her gaze rather than staring at something else again.
“No need. Your frustrations are entirely valid.”
“No, it’s- I handled it badly. Even if I have the right to be a little frustrated, I shouldn’t take it out on you. Especially when you’re not feeling well.”
“I should be the one apologizing.”
“You really don’t have to-” She sighs and rubs her face. “You don’t have to. We can talk about this all another time.”
“No. It’s best that I say my part now.” He pauses briefly to collect his words and string them together. “As Luke’s parents, I understand that your primary concern is Luke’s safety and wellbeing. It’s mine as well. My ‘job’ as his mentor was intended to keep him out of trouble and to make life easier for you.”
They’re both listening without interruption. He looks to Brenda, then Clark, then away. The next part won’t come as easily, and some part of him fears the way they will look at him. So he doesn’t.
“As such, I understand if you’d like for him to stop accompanying me on cases that I take. It’s clear that I cannot keep him sufficiently sheltered from harm.”
“...what?”
Hershel responds with his own questioning hum, but doesn’t look up at the couple.
Luke is one of the best things to happen to Hershel in an odd sort of way. He’d singlehandedly improved the professor’s state of being over the years simply with his company. Emmy paid a part, of course, but Luke had the largest influence.
This was due, in part, to Hershel’s influence on the boy. He was conscious of his habits enough to curb them when he realized it could set a bad example. Hershel ate more on adventures because Luke needed to be fed. He stopped sleeping on the couch and staying up late investigating or grading. He let himself rest because Luke needed it.
Clearly, and it should have been clear all along, Hershel isn’t ideal in the most important aspect of his mentorship. In taking care of Luke’s health.
“Hershel, what are you talking about?”
“Luke. I could be having an unfavorable influence on him, and I understand if you’d prefer for him to stop coming along on my adventures.”
They give each other a look. Had he said something wrong?
Before he can reiterate his point, Brenda asks, “Where is all this coming from?”
“Earlier, you said I was setting a precedent for Luke.”
“Is that all you retained from the conversation?” She replies gently, grabbing his hand to hold it. “Hershel, I was saying that I care about you. Not that you were bad for Luke.”
“Both can be true.”
The woman frowns. “Are you really trying to argue that he shouldn’t come along anymore?”
“That’s- Well, I don’t…” He’s fumbling badly for words today, it seems. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Oh, honey…” She drops his hand to cup Hershel’s face, and he barely avoids flinching at the warmth as she gets up from the chair to sit on the bed with him. Clark looks equally heartbroken, if not moreso.
He must still be detached from everything, because he can’t imagine what he’s done to get that look from the couple.
Brenda shushes him when he tries to apologize. He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for.
“Are you still here with me?”
Hershel can tell that he’s pretty close to the line again. Sitting on the edge and any further pushing would send him back to that nothingness from earlier. He manages an affirming hum.
“You don’t have to talk anymore, but I want you to listen to me.” Brenda continues to hold his face in her hands, watching him with soft eyes. “You’re very important to me. To me, to Clark, to Luke, and to so many more people. And I know that we’re important to you too. Luke is important to you, and I know you do your best to keep him out of harm. We trust you.”
He wants to interject again, to say that perhaps their trust was misplaced. That their fondness for him had blinded the couple to how much danger he could put their child in. How could they continue to put such faith in him?
But his mouth doesn’t open. He listens.
“That being said, I wish you treated yourself with the same importance. It hurts us to see you so blatantly disregard your own health.”
Clark nods from behind her. Hershel swallows thickly.
The hands on his face were beginning to feel uncomfortable. It’s been quite a while since the professor has been touched so gently for a prolonged period of time. He doesn’t ordinarily have a high tolerance for physical touch, finding it to be less than pleasant.
Holding Clark’s hand was his capacity. By now Hershel feels somewhere between as if he’s melting into it and wishing that he were a hedgehog or porcupine so that nothing could reach him again. A shudder runs up his spine.
“Tell me honestly. If we let you go earlier, would you have gone to the hospital?”
They both know the answer. Hershel shakes his head softly. Just once.
Brenda sighs, and he shuts his eyes as she presses her forehead against his before pulling back completely. When he opens his eyes, she’s still sitting on the hospital bed with him, but she’s looking away.
Her shoulders shake.
“Brenda…” The apology sticks to his tongue like honey.
“Don’t. Please. It’s alright.” She sniffles, and the words die in his throat.
Clark reaches out to hold his wife’s hand.
Shame claws at his chest, and he sits back to let his hat shield his vision. It’s easier like this. His coat collar blocks the sides, the brim of his hat blocks most of the rest, so all Hershel sees is the blanket. If he were alone, he might have pulled his knees to his chest.
But he’s not. So he doesn’t.
“We’re going to check on Luke. Is it alright if we send Flora in? She’s been wanting to talk to you.” Clark speaks, just outside his vision.
He doesn’t want to be seen like this. Not by his ward, not by Luke, not even by Clark or Brenda.
The professor nods anyway.
There’s some shuffling as the couple leave. A few minutes of silence that Hershel uses to attempt getting himself back together.
Then the door clicks again.
“Professor?”
He musters a ‘hello, dear’ to the girl as she flops herself down into one of the seats.
“I’ll try to be still and quiet. The Tritons said that you weren’t feeling good either so I shouldn’t try and touch you or be loud.” Despite this, her knee bounces as Flora adjusts herself into a more proper position with her hands folded in her lap.
“It’s alright. I don’t mind if you speak. How are you feeling after everything?”
“You asked me that when you got back to Dropstone.”
“I’m aware.”
“Well, I feel just about the same. Just more bored. Luke was crabby so he didn’t wanna talk and then he went to bed. And I like talking to his parents but they seemed upset so I didn’t want to bother them.” She fidgets with her dress and kicks her legs. Restless.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
What’s there not to apologize for?
“It must have been terribly boring for you to be locked up in the barn, and then just sitting in the hospital for all these hours. Would you like to go home?”
Flora hums, “Well, it’s fine. I was only in there for a few hours anyway before the farmers came back from the festival anyways. And then they just let me stay the night in their house while we waited for the train to come back.”
“I’ll have to remember to thank them if we ever return.”
“And being here isn’t so bad. I get to spend time with Luke and you, so it’s really all okay.”
Hershel doesn’t really have a response. He wouldn’t like to start an argument that the whole thing isn’t alright if Flora wants to let it lay.
“Are you tired at all? After talking to the doctor Luke went to bed because he was really sleepy.”
“I am a bit tired, but I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”
She nods.
There are some periods of silence before Flora will start talking again about a new topic. Since she moved in, it was clear that the girl doesn’t much like silence.
She talks about the doctors and Luke’s story about the Elysian Box. How the doctors didn’t believe him. About The Tritons and the barn and the cows and the farmers that let her stay for the night.
Hershel didn’t mind listening. He felt rather bad about not being able to give more than little hums and nods in acknowledgement, but if there was no indication that Flora minded.
The time passes faster with his ward around. Eventually she runs out of topics and they start swapping puzzles together to pass the rest of the time. An hour flies by in a blink, and soon enough the nurse returns to let him know the observation period is up.
The professor is ashamed to admit that as he and Flora walk towards the lobby, a pit forms in his stomach again at the knowledge that he’ll be seeing the family again. Hershel needs his keys and the Laytonmobile is parked in the Triton’s driveway.
Clark offers a smile. Brenda looks away. Their son looks rather drowsy before he spots Hershel and runs over to nearly bowl his mentor over with a hug. “Professor!”
“Hello, my boy.”
When it clicks for the boy that Hershel isn’t reciprocating the hug, Luke pulls away and fixes his hat. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Quite. Are you?”
Luke nods. “Just kinda tired still. I think I’m gonna take a nap when we go home.”
“About that-” Clark interjects, “How would the two of you like to stay the night before going home?”
Before Hershel can counter with Flora’s earlier statement that she’d like to go home, the girl in question cheers about the prospect of a sleepover with Luke.
“It would be agreeable, if you’ll have us.”
“Anytime.” His friend makes a motion to clap Hershel’s shoulder, then makes a face.
Brenda shoos the children to the car before finally looking at Hershel. He looks back. Her eyes are still a bit red.
The woman smiles, and as if she can see that he’s about to apologize again she shakes her head. “Don’t even think about it. If you let us take care of you for the night, that will be apology enough for me.”
“It shouldn’t be your responsibility,” he murmurs on their way out. “I can’t imagine the toll that this all has on you two.”
“It’s a burden happily carried, my friend,” Clark insists. “And we’ll continue to care for you extra until you feel ready to do it too.”
Brenda opens the passenger door for him to get in. A very kind gesture, considering that Hershel wouldn’t be able to handle sitting between Luke and Flora on a car ride again. “Until then, you’ll just have to bear all of our worrying.”
She shuts the car door behind him, and he tries for a joke as the other three settle in the back. “I do hope this won’t turn into a multi-day kidnapping like after the Ambrosia case? You almost wouldn’t let me out of sight for days.”
“Only if you let it be.” Clark grins at him as he starts the car, but there’s a large amount of sincerity behind it. “You’re free to go when you want, but our door is always open if you’d like to come over. There’s always room for more people at the table.”
Flora pipes up from the back, “What’s the Ambrosia case?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard about that yet?” Clark guffaws, “You’re in for a real treat, my dear.”
The pit in Hershel’s gut is entirely gone as they ride home. Whatever fear he’d augmented in his mind of having ruined everything had settled, leaving only the warmth of the company he keeps.
Anytime. They’d have him anytime.
Hershel wouldn’t dare take advantage of it, of course, but it’s a nice thought.
Clark and Brenda had tried for years to cement the idea, he knows. That Hershel is welcome and wanted. That they’d like to see him do more than survive. But this might be the first time it’s ever truly clicked like a puzzle piece in his mind.
Anytime. What a lovely idea.