Chapter Text
The window to your office is open, with the slight, late-summer breeze ruffling the curtains. The sun is close to setting and your piano casts a shadow over the room. It’s silent and it’s… quite nice actually.
“Ah, uh, thank you, John.” Arthur sighed and made his way to his desk. He flopped down on the plush office chair they had bought when they had made the spur of the moment decision to renovate the office to get rid of any…bad memories from the place. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sighed, they'd just finished working a case about a woman going missing after work after discovering a potential link between her and Anna Stanczyk, but the link had turned out to be nonexistent, and they had found the woman in Boston with another man. Six months since Kayne had been imprisoned and they had failed to find any link to Anna and the book that had brought him and John together. It was starting to get irritating.
Arthur, are you alright? You’ve gotten quiet.
“I’m fine, John. ‘Just tired, I guess?” Arthur breathed, leaning back in the chair, “I just can’t believe another one of our leads turned into another dead end. Seems like we’ve had too many of them lately.”
Hmm… you’re right. However, there’s still a couple leads and cases we haven’t looked at yet— more than a couple actually, you’ve got a stack of papers on your desk!
Arthur groaned, “God, John, don’t remind me about that. Let me sit down for a minute, I’m getting old here.” John hummed an acknowledgement softly and they settled into a comfortable silence. The street below their office was still busy with people and cars coming home from work and the white noise of humanity calmed Arthur’s nerves a bit. He strained his ears to see if he could pick up a conversation or any event happening below but only heard the street noise and the faint noise of heels hurriedly clicking up the stairs. Not much longer until the silence would be-
“DAD!” Faroe burst into the door, slamming it against the wall.
It’s Faroe! She’s breathing heavily and is carrying her bag and a messy stack of papers.
Arthur sat up in his chair and tried to stand up before being crushed back down by a hug from Faroe. “Dad! Look at this, it’s from my class!” She shoved the papers into his hands and Arthur silently begged John to read them fast.
It appears to be a class syllabus! A lot of it seems to be grading and coursework information, I’m- I’m not sure what is special about it.
“Uh, is this one of your syllabi? What about it?” Faroe had started at Arkham’s Miskatonic University at the start of the week, even proudly calling Daniel to tell him she would be the first college graduate in their family, only to deflate when Daniel reminded her he had attended college in New York but was still very proud all the same.
“No, Dad, look! Look at the required texts!”
No, Arthur, not that page- this one! John paused to read, Uh, “The Historian’s History of the World, Vol. 1-4…”
“…and “The Magna Charta and Other Great Charters of England?” Uh, Faroe, what’s so special about these?” Confusion washed over Arthur; it was starting to feel like he was part of a joke that he wasn’t in on.
“C’mon, Mr. Detective! Can’t you see the connection? They’re all English history books!” Faroe grinned, “I’m taking an English history class!”
“Oh, uhm, that’s nice, honey?” He still didn’t get the joke. “England has a fascinating history so I’m sure you’ll have fun in it.” Evidently unimpressed of his answer, Faroe twisted to look up at him.
“Dad, seriously? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own stories. You know, like with Lord Evrard and the witch, Alia!” She waved her hands in the air with dramatic flair. “And poor Dad all alone in the woods to become a valiant knight! The class will be just like that story!” She started giggling while Arthur tried not to let his face show any surprise or fear.
Oh, Arthur. Please don’t tell me she knows about what happened in England.
When they had gotten sent home by The Manager, after getting over the initial shock of Faroe being alive and well into her young adulthood, John and Arthur had agreed, with a bit of an argument, not to tell her about John and the eldritch monsters lurking around them. She did not need to experience the horror and violence that that knowledge brought or what her father had done to keep her safe. Arthur gently wrapped his arms around Faroe and brought her close,
“Um, I don’t recall telling you a story about England?” After all, he was a newcomer in this world but he had made damn sure not to let any of the events of the last few months slip and from what he had gathered, this world was almost entirely similar to his old one and this Arthur had disappeared from his office and presumably died at some point (probably due to the same activities that had almost killed this Arthur) and he had replaced him, to no one’s suspicion. There’s no possible way Faroe could know about Alia and Lord Evrard and the castle or anything that happened in England!
She looks genuinely upset, like a small child; she’s almost, or I guess is, pouting up at us.
“Dad. You used to tell me that story like all the time when I was a kid! How can you not remember?!”
“Oh! Yes, of course, of course, how could I forget!” You’re a horrible liar. “Well, I’m very glad one of my stories has so deeply impacted you.”
Faroe huffed, “Uh huh, yeah.” She looks unimpressed. Faroe wriggled around, facing away from Arthur and plucking the syllabus from his hands.
“Well, anyways, I got to talk with the professor for this class, she’s a lady, you know!” Arthur could practically hear the smile in her voice, and it made him smile too. It was the 20th century after all! Women are finally starting to join academia, and Faroe was part of a small class of women allowed to attend Miskatonic University. Arthur was nothing if not a very proud father, boasting his daughter’s success to everyone: the postman, the bartender in the small bar that John liked because of the atmosphere, the lovely downstairs neighbors, and John, repeatedly.
“A female professor! Oh, that’s wonderful, I’m glad you’re taking her class, Faroe.”
“Mhm, she’s real cool too; she’s French and came to Miskatonic just to teach European history to our class!” He could practically feel Faroe puff up with excitement.
“Just for your class? Well, now you’ve got something prove! Show her that the long boat ride was worth it.” Arthur was only joking, of course, he knew Faroe could keep up with her peers, hell, she was probably going to surpass every single one of them! She’s his daughter after all! Faroe wiggled around again, sitting up and leaning back against Arthur’s chest, he figured she was trying to show him more of the syllabus, but he couldn’t read it.
“Ah, I’m not worried about it. Besides, my dad’s an Englishman, I’ve got a first-hand source!” She burst out giggling, clearly amused by whatever train of thought she was on.
“First-hand source?! How old do you think I am?!” He mocked offense, “I don’t even have a proper education, unlike my genius of a daughter!” He squeezed her tightly while Faroe shoved him away.
“Hah! Whatever! Anyways, remember Helen, the girl from my orientation? She said Professor d’Ys looks just like Marion Morehouse, but I don’t really see it.”
“d’Ys? That’s her name? What a strange last name. I’ve never heard of it before, although I guess I haven’t met many of the French.” Arthur mused.
“Right?! I thought it was cool, we should’ve had a fancy name like that.” Arthur gasped, scandalized,
“What?! What’s wrong with our last name?”
“It’s alright, but we could’ve been d’Ys!” Faroe snickered. He was about to respond with some smart retort, but John inhaled loudly.
Oh, Arthur, this cannot be good. I- I think I know that name.