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101flavoursofweird · 1 year ago

Note

How about 14 or 15 from the little moments prompt list for Laydore?

((Thank you for the prompt! I went with…

14. Person A just holding onto Person B while Person B is having a bad mental health day.

I did enjoy writing this but had to get Hershel and Henry to a point where the ‘holding on’ felt in character for me while they’re still teens and not on the closest of terms yet. I wanted to write this set before the Stansbury Gang flashbacks because my last fic about them had them as adults. Hope this is ok!))

Title: Sanding down your silence

Spoilers: Very slight spoilers for Miracle Mask

Set: Before the Stansbury flashbacks. Hershel and the gang are 16.

Warnings: Reference to minor character death… and Henry being treated like a second class servant to the Ascot family.

It was six AM on Sunday when something flew into Hershel’s window, startling him awake.

Hershel stumbled out of bed, shoved his desk chair aside, and squinted out of his window. He groaned.

Two figures were standing outside his house, on a Sunday morning, at six AM.

Angela gave him a nervous wave. Randall made a beckoning motion.

Grumbling about his block-headed ‘best friend’, Hershel threw on a coat and snuck downstairs— even though he felt like stomping.

Hershel stepped out of the house, quietly shut the front door behind him, and went to meet Randall and Angela, who were waiting beyond the fence.

“Randall!” Hershel hissed. “Do you want to give my Ma a heart attack…?”

He trailed off when he caught sight of their fancy outfits, like the pair of them were ready to start waltzing right in front of him.

“…Why are you dressed like that?”

Randall fiddled with the collar of his white shirt. “My father’s dragging me to a family get-together—“

“In my front garden?”

“No— in London!” Randall retorted.

Both Hershel and Angela shushed him.

“Sorry, Hershel…” Angela smoothed out the ends of her yellow dress. “I told him this wasn’t a good idea, but he insisted—“

“Can I ask you a huge favour?” Randall pleaded. He didn’t wait for Hershel’d reply. “I have to leave soon, and Angela is my date, but Henry can’t come with us— he’s not feeling well enough—“

“Forgive me, but I am not going in Henry’s place as your… assistant,” Hershel said dryly. (He had never completely understood how the Ascots were able to hire Henry as a ‘servant’ like the rest of their household staff, despite Henry only being sixteen.)

“As if,” Randall said, in a tone that suggested Hershel would make a terrible assistant. “All I’m asking is for you to check on Henry while we’re gone. I absolutely forbade him from doing any chores today, but knowing him, he’ll still try to help!”

Hershel didn’t really know Henry, outside of him being Randall’s childhood friend… What right did Hershel have to tell Henry what he could and couldn’t do?

Whenever Hershel felt rough, he usually preferred to be left alone with a book and a cup of tea. He could imagine Henry would respond similarly, as he was a solitary person too.

“I’m… not sure…”

“Please, Hershel?” Angela clasped her hands in front of her, bracelets clinking around her wrists. “Please… It wouldn’t have to be for long, but if you could just pop over to see if Henry’s resting, you would save us so much worry…”

(Were those real tears in her eyes?)

Hershel sighed. “Oh, alright!”

Surely Henry would not appreciate being disturbed at the crack of dawn, especially if he was unwell…

So, Hershel waited until nine AM to leave the house, after assuring his mother than no one had tried to break in earlier that morning.

(“Hershel, did you hear a banging noise at around about six o’clock?”

“Nothing to worry about, Ma. That was just Randall trying to get my attention.”

“Oh— that’s alright then! Did you invite him inside?”

“No, Ma…”)

The trek to Ascot Manor felt different at this time of day; the sky was a pale blue, barely anyone Hershel’s age was out and about, and the birds seemed to be more active.

Hershel was so used to climbing through Randall’s bedroom window at night, that he’d almost forgotten the Ascots had a front door, concealed by a large stone porch.

His nervous knocks were met by Margot, the family’s maid. Glaring down at Hershel from behind her huge glasses, she informed him, rather dismissively, that Randall had gone away with his parents and they wouldn’t return until tomorrow. Hershel explained (where, evidently, Randall had not) that he had come to visit Henry.

Hearing this, Margot looked very surprised, but she let Hershel in and led him to the staircase.

“If Henry has recovered, please tell him there is still work to be done in the kitchen,” Margot said sternly. “You are welcome to help too, if you’re not busy…”

“R-right!” Hershel stammered, before he shot upstairs.

He went straight to Randall’s room, where he saw a hastily-written ‘Do Not Disturb!’ sign had been taped to the door.

Hershel cleared his throat. He tapped on the door and tentatively called, “Hello… Henry?”

Silence. (Hershel should have expected this…)

Still, Hershel persisted, “It’s Hershel… Randall sent me to—“

Slowly, with great effort, the door opened. Henry peered out at Hershel. His eyes were red, his jaw was tense and his nose was streaming

“P-please excuse me…” Henry sniffed. He turned away to wipe his face with his arm. “I’m… I’m not…”

“Not well?”

Looking back at Hershel, Henry nodded.

“Can I, er, get you anything?” Hershel offered. “A tissue…?”

Another nod.

“And a… cold drink, maybe?”

“Thank you,” Henry mumbled, before he closed the door once more.

“Okay…” Hershel sighed and dashed down to the kitchen.

The Ascots’ chef, Abilio, was far more accommodating than Margot. They gave Hershel a tray, some soft tissues, a jug of orange juice, two glasses, and some red velvet cupcakes.

Hoping he wouldn’t run in to Margot, Hershel carried the full tray back up to Randall’s room.

This time, Henry let him in immediately, and tried to take the tray from Hershel.

“It’s fine,” Hershel said, setting the tray on one of the wooden steps leading up to Randall’s loft. (Or whatever he called that chaotic excuse for a shelf above his bookshelf!)

“Thank you,” Henry sighed as he shut the door. He faced Hershel, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry to… burden you with all this. I’m sure you have much better things you could be doing with your weekend…”

“Not really,” Hershel said nonchalantly.

As much as he’d complained to Randall, he really didn’t have much planned for today, aside from studying and reading. “Any adventures I might have had were cancelled…”

“…In Master’s Randall’s absence, yes,” Henry said, smiling slightly. He came to pour them each a glass of orange juice.

“My favourite!” Hershel remarked, in a pitiful attempt at small talk.

He was relieved when Henry replied, “Mine, too.”

Yet again, the silence reared its head between them.

Hershel sipped his glass of orange juice, straining to think of a discussion topic…

Randall (chatterbox that he was) never had this problem…

Of course— Randall!

“Why were Randall and his family called to London so suddenly?” Hershel exclaimed.

Henry’s eyes lit up; he was more than happy to discuss Randall.

“Master Randall’s cousin— Lady Ascot’s nephew— has secured a place at Gressenheller University, after…” Henry hesitated, as if he was about to reveal a dark family secret. “…After being overlookedpreviously… Lady Ascot’s sister arranged a party at their estate to celebrate his achievement.”

Hershel hummed. (It certainly paid to be rich!) “I’m sure Randall— and Angela— would have preferred to stay here, with you.”

Henry shrugged. “Perhaps… but Master Ascot insisted they should all go. There is nothing more important to him than family…” Henry paused.

Hershel placed his empty glass on the step. The conversation seemed to have dried up there, but he could sense something was wrong with Henry.

It didn’t appear to be an illness, like a cold (as far as Hershel could see), but whatever it was still had a physical effect on Henry; furrowed brows, slumped shoulders and lacking his usual energy…

When Henry had answered the door to Hershel, Hershel could have sworn he’d been crying.

“Erm, these are for you—“ Hershel pointed to the cupcakes. “—from the chef!”

“That’s very kind of Abilio,” Henry murmured. “I’ll make sure to thank them later.” He gestured for Hershel to take a cupcake.

Hershel removed the cake’s wrapper, making sure he didn’t drop any crumbs. “You won’t have to… to do any chores later, will you?“

“Master Randall made me promise not to,” Henry huffed, shaking his head. “And he sent you to keep an eye on me, no doubt…”

To save himself for answering, Hershel stuffed the whole cake inside his mouth.

“But you can’t possibly stay here all day,” Henry said.

The silence returned with a vengeance.

Hershel slowly ate the cake. (Not only was it delicious but he gave him more time to devise a response!)

When he had finished, Hershel ventured, “I could stay, if you nee— if you want company.”

“I don’t.”

Hershel tried not to take that personally. His parents had told him about a time when he was a young child— when he wouldn’t talk to anyone. It was only through patience, perseverance and care that they had gotten little Hershel to open up.

“Well…” Hershel waved his hands around the room. “Is there anything Randall needs help with?”

Henry started, “Nothing that I can’t—“

“What about up there?” Hershel pointed up to Randall’s loft, stacked with grubby overflowing boxes. “When was the last time Randall had a clear out?”

“Tha—that’s where Master Randall keeps his tools—“ Henry barred the way up the steps with his long arms. “—and some treasures. He wouldn’t want us to—“

“I want to make sure he’s organised, for the next time he drags me out on an adventure.” Hershel ducked under Henry’s arms and marched up the steps. “You can help me, if you choose to.”

Hershel had said that very deliberately; he wasn’t giving Henry an order, and Henry was under no obligation to obey.

To his surprise, Henry sighed with defeat… and maybe some relief. “Alright, then… If you could bring down those boxes— carefully— I’ll have a look through them…”

Several hours had passed by the time they finished cleaning out Randall’s loft, organised everything worth keeping, and chucked out anything Henry deemed ‘for the bin’.

Hershel hoped Randall wouldn’t mind; not that they had moved all of his belongings (Randall was constantly hiding puzzles in Hershel’s room), but the fact that Hershel had gotten Henry to assist him.

Yes, it had been a hard job, but it wasn’t technically one of Henry’s chores…

Besides, Henry had chosen to help, and he seemed… not happier, but more content when he was kept busy.

That was, until Hershel found a small red brooch at the back of the loft. It was shaped like a ladybug, studded with rubies and no bigger than a walnut.

Assuming it was another one of Randall’s treasures, Hershel brought it down to show Henry.

When he caught sight of the brooch, however, Henry blanched.

“What is it?” Hershel asked worriedly, holding the brooch out to him.

Henry swallowed. He accepted the brooch and cradled it in his hands as if it were a real ladybug. “This is… This was given to me… as a gift. I thought I’d lost it…”

“Maybe Randall found it?”

“No,” Henry said firmly. “Master Randall knows what this— this means to me.” He frowned up at the loft. “One of the staff might have picked it up, assumed it belonged to Randall, and put it amongst his things… but I swear, this is mine.”

“I believe you,” Hershel murmured. He could never imagine Henry stealing from the Ascot family, especially not from Randall.

Henry slipped the brooch into his pocket, but immediately removed it again.

“I need to put this somewhere safe,” he muttered, “without anyone seeing…” Warily, Henry glanced from the bedroom door to Hershel. “Hershel— please can you accompany me for just a few moments?”

“Of course.”

Following Henry out of the room and down the hall, Hershel kept an eye out for Margot or any other servants who might question them.

On the other side of the house, they reached a narrow stairwell.

“Does this lead to the tower with the turret?” Hershel whispered as they made their way up the spiralling steps. It was dizzying— and rather dark.

He almost bumped into Henry, who had stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Yes,” Henry said, pushing open a door, “and my room.”

“Oh…!” Hershel exclaimed as they entered the small circular space.

Hershel had, ignorantly, imagined Henry slept in a room with the other servants, but Henry had his own bed— slender though it was.

Squashed in beside the bed was a plain set of drawers, with a stack of books on top.

There was a window, slimmer than those in Randall’s room…. Honestly, it reminded Hershel of a prison.

How many hours had Henry spent in here, feeling like he was trapped in a tower? No wonder he always pottering around the rest of the house…

“It’s… cosy,” Hershel supplied.

Humming, Henry went to place the ladybug brooch under his pillow. As he moved the pillow, a piece of card— a photograph— fluttered to the floor.

Hershel blinked at the figure in the grainy picture—

Henry snatched the photo back up and returned it to its hiding place. He glared at Hershel.

Hershel lifted his hands. “I didn’t see…”

His glare softening, Henry sighed. “My mother, Alice… She gave me this brooch before she… passed on. Ten years ago today.”

“I’m sorry,” Hershel intoned— because what else could he say?

Hershel was fortunate enough to have two loving, wonderful parents in his life. Yes, his Ma could be a worrywart, and his Pa was prone to wandering off, but that was the worst of it.

At least Hershel’s parents weren’t as strict as Mr. Ascot. Ma might fret occasionally, but not like Angela’s parents…

Even then, none of them had lost a parent, like Henry.

“It was a long time ago,” Henry dismissed.

They left the room and descended the stairwell in silence… until Henry let out a gasp. Hershel turned. Henry crashed into him headfirst.

Luckily, they were near the bottom of the stairwell. Hershel caught Henry by the shoulders as they stumbled down the last few steps.

“Are you— alright?”

“Yes, I—“ Henry grunted with pain and embarrassment. “—Just missed a step back there… Sorry.”

They emerged into the hallway. Henry straightened up. Reluctantly, Hershel removed his hands from Henry’s shoulders.

“Can you walk?” Hershel breathed.

“O-of course…” Henry strode down the hallway, though Hershel noticed a slight limp in his step.

When they were back in Randall’s room, away from prying ears, Hershel checked, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Henry lowered himself onto Randall’s red couch. “Believe it or not, I’m actually feeling better than… than I was earlier.” He titled his head back and closed his eyes.

“That’s— good,” Hershel said, hovering by the door. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Silence.

“Guess I’ll be off then…?” Hershel reached for the door handle, but he held on a moment longer. He gazed at Henry. “Henry, you know if you ever… want to get out, you’re welcome to visit my house— with or without Randall.”

Hershel didn’t think he would receive a response, until Henry murmured, “Thank you, Hershel. I’ll bear that in mind.”

Hershel smiled. When the silence resumed, he felt it was a companionable kind of silence.

He hoped Henry felt the same way.

#henry ledore #Hershel Layton #Laydore #Hershel/Henry #My fics #my writing #stansbury gang #Randall ascot #angela Ledore #Sorry this has another dead mother— as if the PL universe needed any more of those #Professor Layton #Guess who Randall’s cousin is

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101flavoursofweird · 2 years ago

Note

For the Hurt/Comfort Dialogue prompts, maybe 8 or 25 (or both if you want to) for Laydore?

Thank you for the prompt! I don’t know how this became a rewrite of the LMJ anime, where Henry and Randall rescue Hershel and Luke earlier… but there you go. There are more Laydore moments later in the fic, I promise. I’m just incapable of writing a short AU.

Title: How to Save a Layton

Set: After the flashback scenes from the LMJ anime. I don’t entirely understand what happened with the Relic Stones plotline either but it doesn’t matter— Henry and Randall get there nine years earlier to rescue Layton and Luke from a cathedral cult. That’s all you need to know.

Spoilers: For Miracle Mask and the LMJ anime.

Inspiration: The song for Miracle Mask— How to Save a Life by the Fray.

Warnings: A swordfight and a little bit of blood but it’s not focussed on… and a cathedral, and hospitals… and Randall gets one swear, as treat.

“Hey! Are you… Randall Ascot? And Henry Ledore— from Monte d’Or?”

When the purple-haired woman recognised them, Randall almost preened himself. “That’s us!” Randall confirmed, flashing her a celebrity smile. “Can we help you with something, Miss…?”

Henry, saddled with their bags from the ship, was not so sociable.

He frowned as the young woman faltered at Randall’s query. Had she really forgotten her own name?Amnesia was not an impossible scenario, of course, but he and Randall had to be cautious.

If anything happened to Randall…

Mrs. Ascot might never recover. She couldn’t mourn Randall a second time.

Angela’s heart would be irreparably broken. She couldn’t lose another loved one.

Alfendi and Katrielle would grow up not just without their father, but without their favourite uncle.

Henry would not let that happen.

He stared at the woman. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but something about her seemed older. Her dark blue eyes were shaded, and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail— for work, perhaps…

But what kind of work required an ominous purple robe with a hood? It was a little early for Halloween costumes…

In Monte d’Or, the performers dressed up all year round for the parade, but there was no sign of such festivities here in Southampton.

Or, maybe Henry was just being cynical.

He had thought he was getting better— learning to trust others— in the years following Randall’s return… until Hershel went and Luke went missing.

Hershel had never been the most forthcoming person (much like Henry), but there was no way he would purposefully cut all contact with his family for two years.

Even after what happened in Stansbury, Hershel had still responded to Angela’s letter about the Masked Gentleman, rushing to Monte d’Or to help her.

For their latest investigation, Hershel and Luke had been collecting these Relic stones (Azran relics, Randall insisted), which had eventually led them to the Lestagiana Cave.

Henry and Randall had scoured said-cave from top to bottom. They had prepared themselves for the worst, but mercifully they hadn’t found any bodies. (Henry would have felt it in his bones if they weredead.)

No— Hershel and Luke must have left the cave, freely or otherwise. The pair hadn’t informed anyone of their next destination.

Their case had gone cold… until Flora uncovered a new clue at the British Library— pointing to a cathedral in Southampton.

Faster than you could say, ‘No risk, no glory!’, Henry and Randall had caught a ship to the city.

At the dock, they had been approached by the Mysterious Woman, and she had dragged them behind some wooden crates.

“I’m— Marina,” she finally answered, in a whisper. She paused for a moment, as if she was expecting some reaction from them.

“Right….” Randall nodded uncertainly. “Nice to meet you, Mari—“

“Shhhh!” Marina hissed, sweat beading on her face. She seemed to shrink in on herself, the robe pooling around her like purple sludge.

She poked her head out from behind the crates, glancing around the dock, before she looked back at them desperately. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“I have the worst memory,” Randall said sheepishly.

Henry didn’t have that excuse. He peered at Marina again, trying to pinpoint if he had ever seen her face.

Something about her was familiar…

Marina took another check around the dock, before she drew in a breath, straightened up and revealed softly, “I’m Luke’s wife. I was—“

“Really?” Randall hummed. “Hershel never mentioned Luke got hitched… Why weren’t we invited to the wedding?”

“I don’t know…” Marina huffed. “Maybe ‘cause you hung Luke off a high wire when he was twelve?”

“I beg your pardon?” Randall gasped, highly offended.

The jab had worked in Marina’s favour, though. Only a select few knew about Randall’s identity as the Masked Gentleman— Henry had made sure of it.

Henry gripped Randall’s arm. “I think she’s telling the truth,” Henry murmured. “Let’s hear what she has to say at the very least.”

Marina smiled at him with palpable relief. “Thank you!”

Marina Triton claimed that, two years ago, she had been captured by what was practically a cult in the local cathedral.

Hershel and Luke had surrendered to the cult in exchange for her life. Since then, both had been trapped beneath the cathedral,

Somehow, Marina had escaped, but she was currently at a sort of stalemate with the cult. She hadn’t gone to the police— who could very well be in cahoots with the cult— for fear they would kill Hershel and Luke.

“But now you’re here,” she told Henry and Randall, “and we can save them!”

Her story still raised several doubts:

How had she escaped? Were the cult members really so incompetent— or so unconcerned— that they would let her run around town?

Why hadn’t Marina attempted to reach out for help before now?

Henry couldn’t blindly trust her, but he wanted to believe her. That something he found so familiar was a resemblance to himself, he realised.

Luke and Hershel had set out to investigate an Azran relic and never returned. Marina was searching— fighting— ceaselessly for a way to bring them home, when the odds seemed stacked against her.

Then, Henry and Randall had come along, providing the opportunity she needed. Rather than shun them (as Henry had done to Hershel), Marina had extended her hand to them.

With no other leads, they agreed to accompany her… but not unarmed.

“I… I can’t use a sword,” Marina stammered as Randall passed her a spare épée.

“Maybe not, but you could still stab people,” Randall said brightly. “And if you are planning to double cross us at any point, don’t bother trying to stab me— Henry’s always got my back.”

In truth, Henry probably wasn’t much better than Marina. He and Angela had taken fencing lessons, at Randall’s behest, but Angela had picked it up faster than Henry.

Henry wasn’t sure if he could intentionally attack someone with a blade… but he would defend Randall until his dying breath, and he would do whatever he could for Hershel and Luke.

Marina agreed, hid the sword in her robe, and stared leading them to Cranscoll Cathedral.

The road to the cathedral was well worn and the surrounding land was barren.

As they walked, Randall wondered if they should disguise themselves at farmers, but Marina said there was no point— the cult most likely knew they were coming.

“How are we going to free Hershel and Luke from right under their noses?” Henry asked in a low voice.

“Between the three of us, we’ll be unstoppable,” Randall boasted loudly, “as long as no one betrays us!”

Marina frowned at him. Randall winked.

At the end of the road, Cranscoll Cathedral loomed before them. Its towers and steeples seemed to hold up the grey sky.

The cathedral was nowhere near as large or as sprawling as the Akbadain ruins… but still. Where would they supposed to start searching for Hershel and Luke?

Marina snuck them through the front building (the ‘façade’, she called it) and through a courtyard with a garden, enclosed by stone walls on all four sides.

Henry frowned; if they needed to flee and the entrance was cut off, they would be in trouble.

Henry would willingly give Randall and Marina a boost over the wall, but he knew Randall wouldn’t abandon him…

While Henry steeped in worry, Randall was more fascinated by the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. He had dropped his épée and knelt down to investigate. Henry guarded him from behind.

“W-what are you doing?” Marina sputtered as Randall poked at a brick at the base of the fountain.

“Looks like old Hersh left us a puzzle,” Randall chuckled. He pointed down at the stone tiles.

Henry’s eyes widened as he noticed; there were grooves between the tiles, rather like in the mummy chambers of Akbadain.

Hershel couldn’t have predicted Randall would be the one to rescue him, could he?

It wasn’t that they had drifted apart, but Hershel had definitely become… busier since he adopted Katrielle, on top of Alfendi.

The trip from London to Monte d’Or was at least six hours, and there were other people Hershel could depend on— Flora, Emmy, his brother…

“This might buy us some time if we’re cornered,” Randall breathed. He pulled the brick away and picked his sword up as a stream of water shot out.

Henry and Marina followed him as he sprinted to the end of the courtyard. By that point, the water had filled all of the grooves. Titling his head, Henry realised that they had formed the outline of a top hat.

No doubt about it— Hershel really was here!

Water kept flooding the courtyard. Hopefully, that would impede anyone behind them.

“Come on!” Randall cried. He stormed up to the inner-cathedral and kicked open the doors. Henry and Marina ran after him.

Inside were chandeliers, rows of pews, and a golden alter… where an old priest in flowing white robes awaited them.

“We’re here for Professor Layton and Luke Triton,” Randall demanded without preamble. Henry cringed. (He would have opened with a little more tact!)

“I’m terribly sorry,” the priest said, twiddling his thumbs, “but I’m not sure who—“

“Bullshit.” Randall aimed his sword in the man’s direction. “Release them, right now, or I’ll rip this place apart.”

The priests’s face darkened. “We still have need of the professor and his assistant,” he said slowly. “But you three will become mulch for the garden—“

“You mean the swimming pool outside?” Randall quipped.

The priest barked, “Get them!”

Two… four… six cult members— each wielding swords of their own— suddenly appeared. Henry raised his sword. He stood back to back with Randall and Marina as they were surrounded.

“W-Wait!” Marina cried, throwing her empty hands up. “I brought them here, so you could— coulddispose of them—!”

“Saw this coming,” Randall muttered.

“P-please— I don’t want to die!” Marina sobbed, shaking like a leaf. Henry scowled at her.

Some of the cult members glanced at each other. One— who sounded like a young man— called, “Sir? We could keep her around— she’s good at cleaning!”

“We’ll need someone to fix the garden,” another grumbled.

“Very well,” the priest agreed impatiently. He flicked his hand at Marina. “Get out. Start working on that garden.”

“Y-yes, Sir!” Marina gasped. “Thank you!”

Two of the cult members stepped aside, allowing her to escape. Marina bolted out of the building without a backwards glance at Henry and Randall.

Randall clicked his tongue and shook his head. He addressed the priest again. “Did you brainwash these people or something?”

“We are all here to serve a noble cause,” the priest stated, “except for you—“

“What cause would that be, exactly?” Randall asked, mimicking the priest’s lofty tone of voice. Henry couldn’t help smiling.

The priest snarled, “That’s none of your concern—“

“It is when it concerns Azran relics,” Randall bragged, buying them time. “I happen to be one of the world’s leading experts! Who do you think discovered the treasure of Akbadain?”

“Wasn’t that Hershel Layton?” one cult member pointed out.

“No, it was me!” Randall insisted.

Technically, Hershel was the first, Henry thought. And I was responsible for removing the treasure…

The priest snapped, “I don’t give a damn—!”

“Blasphemy!” Randall gasped.

“Just kill them already!”

At the priest’s command, the cultists surged at Randall and Henry with their swords.

Randall parried three of them with ease. Henry had a harder time; he countered one attacker, but had to dodge another two. He grunted with pain as a sword grazed his lower leg.

“Watch out, Henry!” Randall called. Randall spun around and they traded opponents. One cultist screamed as Randall slashed his chest.

Henry winced. He could feel his leg bleeding, but he stood his ground, keeping the cultists at bay.

He didn’t know how long they could keep this up…

There was a startled yell from the alter. “S-stop!” the priest said in a strangled voice.

The cult members froze. Randall lunged towards the three closest to him. They leapt back, letting go of their swords. The trio nearest Henry did the same.

Henry and Randall grabbed all of the swords, before turning to the alter.

Marina had crept back in, perhaps through a side entrance. Currently, she had her own sword pressed against the priest’s neck.

He spluttered to his minions, “Don’t just stand there—“

“T-take us to Luke and the professor!” Marina ordered.

Randall looked around at the cult members. “You heard her, lads!”

They had done it…

Henry sighed with relief and swayed on the spot.

“Whoa— Henry! Don’t die on us now!”

“It’s just a scratch, Randall…”

Marina kept restraining the priest as the cultists unearthed a secret staircase in front of the alter.

Randall— being the strongest— then traded places with Marina. He dragged the priest down the stairs at sword-point. Marina and Henry went after them.

Hidden below the cathedral was what Henry could only describe as a tomb.

By all outward appearances, the tomb appeared primitive, but within… there was technology that far surpassed human imagination.

Glowing blue veins (very Azran-y) lined the walls and the floor. There where two pods at either end of the tomb…

And inside the pods were two figures, seemingly alive but frozen in sleep.

“We’ve found them,” Randall choked out.

After forcing the priest to open the pods, they contacted the police and the paramedics.

The cultists were all arrested, while their comatose friends were rushed to the nearest hospital.

Henry, Randall and Marina also rode in the ambulance. One of the paramedics bandaged Henry’s injured leg.

He and the other two refused to leave Hershel and Lukes’ sides— right up until they reached their hospital rooms.

Marina went with Luke. Henry and Randall went with Hershel.

As Randall tried to explain to the doctors what on Earth Hershel had been through, Henry sat at Hershel’s bedside.

A nurse had removed Hershel’s top hat and placed it on a small table next to the bed.

In all these years, Henry had never seen the adult Hershel without his hat. (Randall had come close to stealing the hat on several occasions, but Hershel was always too quick for him.)

Obviously, Hershel treasured this hat, just like Angela with her necklace and Henry with his toy robot.

Where had the hat come from? Henry had never thought to ask, and now he might never get the chance.

Henry watched Hershel like a hawk as the heart monitor slowly beeped in the background. It proved Hershel was alive, but Henry still couldn’t hear or see him breathing.

Hershel was as still as the statues left by one of the Masked Gentleman’s dark miracles.

Henry glanced up as Randall re-joined them.

“The doctors have never seen anything like… this….” Randall gestured to Hershel. “Azran cryogenics…? Hershel said they found the Azran emissary frozen in ice years ago, but she was… different.” Randall shook his head with frustration. “Argh! Who knows what kind of— of lasting effects that technology could have on humans!”

“I know it’s frightening,” Henry murmured, “but at least they’re here now.”

“You’re right…” Randall sighed. “Sorry— I’m just— not used to this… this…”

“Waiting?” Henry supplied, with the ghost of a smile.

Randall nodded. The two of them were quiet for a few moments, observing Hershel.

When the silence became too much, Randall declared, “I should… go call Hershel’s kids— and Angela. She’s probably worried sick! And Luke’s parents— Marina probably knows their number, right?”

Henry shrugged. “Probably?”

“Let me know immediately if Hersh wakes up, okay?” Randall said.

Randall grabbed Hershel’s hand from under the bed covers. “Do you hear me, Hershel Layton? I want to know as soon as you wake up!” He squeezed Hershel’s hand before he tore out of the room to find a telephone.

Henry sighed. Angela would be overjoyed to learn of the rescue, but doubtless, she would have a lecture for Randall about the risks they had taken. (It was worth it, for Hershel and Luke.)

The Layton family would rush to the hospital as soon as they heard the news. It would still be upsetting, seeing Hershel and Luke in this state…

Flora and Alfendi could handle it, but maybe they shouldn’t let Kat in this room until Hershel showed signs of recovery—?

The beeping increased slightly. Henry’s eyes widened as he heard a faint breath.

“Luke…?” Hershel mumbled. He had been lying on his back, but he turned over in bed. He blinked his eyes open.

Squinting at Henry, he struggled to sit up. “Henry—?”

“Hershel!” Henry cried, beaming like a fool. He didn’t hug Hershel, as Randall would have done, but he settled for grasping Hershel’s shoulder. “Luke is safe— you’re both safe now, I promise!”

“What happened?” Hershel croaked. “How… long has it been?”

“You’ve been missing for two years,” Henry revealed gently.

“What about Kat? Alfendi and Flora? How are they?”

“They’re all fine. They’re still in London, but they’ll be here soon. Randall went to call them.”

“Thank you…” Hershel breathed. He lifted his hand to his bare head. “Ah…”

“Your hat!” Henry stumbled to the beside table.

“Your leg…” Hershel pointed at Henry’s bandages.

“It’s nothing— here!” Henry handed him the hat.

“Thanks!” Hershel repeated, with newfound energy. He returned the hat to his head. (All at once, everything felt right with the world again.)

“I’m going to ask you how you are now,” Henry said, reassuming his seat, “and I would like you to answer me honestly, please.”

“Honestly?” Hershel sighed. “This all feels like déjà vu…”

“Tell me about it…” Henry chuckled. “I’m just glad you weren’t missing for eighteen years!”

Hershel smiled at him, though he looked uncertain. “I did wonder… if you would find us— you and Randall, I mean.”

“We…” Henry hesitated, swallowing. “I owed you that much, after everything you’ve done for us.” He gave Hershel’s shoulder an awkward pat— an apology, an acknowledgement, and affection, all rolled into one.

Henry sighed. “I’m only sorry we didn’t get there sooner—“

The hospital door flew open. “Hen!” Randall hollered. “Henry— Luke’s awake!”

When he saw Hershel, Randall froze.

A frantic Luke Triton shoved past him. “Professor…!”

“Hey—“ Randall protested. “Get in line, Luke!”

Marina appeared in the doorway. She giggled as Randall and Luke threw themselves at Hershel’s bed.

Henry was content to hover at the side of the bed, until Randall pulled him into the hug too.

“Please,” Henry wheezed, as his face was squashed into the crook of Hershel’s neck. “No more disappearances from now on?”

Hershel huffed out a laugh. “Agreed!”

#Professor Layton #Henry Ledore #Randall Ascot #Marina Triton #Hershel Triton #Luke/Marina #Layton/Luke #Laydore #What do you mean the Stansbury gang didn’t rescue Layton?#Pl au #My fics #answers #How do we get the two lost emotionally repressed characters to have a heart to heart…?#Thanks I ship Laydore now #LMJ rewrite #Henry can relate to Marina

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