Chapter Text
Randall Ascot leaned back on the futon near the entryway of the Ledore household, idly fiddling with a wooden cube. Each side had something to keep his hands busy, and offered a somewhat mindless activity that kept the cogs in his brain turning. There was a simple sliding puzzle on one side… rotating, interlocked wooden gears on another… and some buttons to press on yet another side. The sounds each of the sides made satisfied his ears and eyes, and scratched an itch in his brain- really, it was pleasing to all his senses.
According to his mother, it had always belonged to him. It was one of the objects she managed to save from the Ascot household before Henry had taken her and her husband in. It still looked a little worn from past use, but preserved as if he’d used it much more recently. It seemed like Henry had kept it in a safe place all this time.
A fleeting smile appeared and then disappeared from Randall’s face. He was no doubt grateful to Henry and Angela for taking him back in after so long. But… he still needed time to process everything that had happened to him… a few days ago? A week ago? Or was it two weeks ago? He honestly couldn’t tell; it all felt like yesterday to him. His still-hazy memory made the days blur together too often for his liking.
All he’d known since ditching the guise of the Masked Gentleman were many sleepless nights, ebbing and flowing of strong emotions (both positive and negative- but mostly negative), and a constant struggle to regain his appetite. At the very least, he wasn’t alone with his thoughts and problems like he had been before. After a storm of emotions passed through, Henry was there with a warm cup of tea, Angela with a soft blanket and gentle, reassuring words. And, if needed, both were shoulders to lean on- or cry on, if there was still something left to release.
Firth was there, too. Even with old memories returning and resurfacing, Randall still saw him as the father figure he had been during his time in the village. He’d been permitted to cultivate a garden on the Ledore estate grounds, and when Randall needed a distraction, Firth invited him to plant seedlings or water the soil, if it had been dry out. They would talk while doing so, and when the work was done, both would come inside with smiles on their faces. It really helped him feel lighter on days when his mind was cloudy.
Randall’s feet lightly tapped on the plush rug underneath the futon as he continued to fidget with the cube. Despite what progress he’d made so far regarding recovery, there were still so many questions he had; so many things that, if he thought about them for too long, would make him angry. Why had… Descole… thought to “help” him, only to use and betray him down the line? Was it simply to get a rise out of him? Was all that pent up anger and frustration for naught?
His ponderings were interrupted by the gentle clinking of fine china headed in his direction. He looked up from his cube to see Henry walking toward the coffee table across from the futon- teacups, saucers, and tray in his hands.
“Ah, Henry. Is it tea time already?” He attempted a smile, despite his face being scrunched in concentration moments before.
“Heh, yes, Randall.” Henry returned the smile and nodded, gently setting the tray down on the table. His face had been looking less sunken lately. “Angela will be out shortly with food- how have you been today?”
Randall had become accustomed to the Ledores and those in the household asking how he was, so the question didn’t catch him off guard. Though, being taken care of was something a bit foreign to him at times.
“A little… caught up in my thoughts lately. Different ones coming and going, but not staying for too long. Other than that, it’s been… a bit of a lazy Sunday, I suppose.”
At least, he was sure it was a Sunday. He’d been improving with remembering days passing, but once in a while, he’d forget for a moment. Yet even if he did, neither Henry nor Angela brought constant attention to it- and he was thankful for that.
“If you’re comfortable, do you want to talk about these thoughts?” Henry lifted one cup and saucer pair off the tray, setting it across from Randall. “If not, I won’t pry any further.”
Randall shrugged and exhaled, setting the cube next to him after completing the slide puzzle again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d mixed it up and put it back together.
“Not… for the moment. Perhaps I’ll think about it over Angela’s delicious finger sandwiches and pastries.” A grin managed to sneak its way onto his still-tanned features.
A soft giggle sounded near the entryway, and warm, sweet scents wafted in from the kitchen. There was Angela, right on cue, carrying in the aforementioned food to the coffee table.
“Trying to butter me up, are we, Randall?” It’d been so long since he’d seen Angela smile like that.
“Only speaking the truth!” He chuckled, waving and holding his hands in front of him reassuringly.
The three shared a laugh, with tea and snacks being arranged accordingly. Angela was sitting to the right of Randall on the futon, and Henry on the wingback armchair, to Randall’s left.
It was pleasantly silent for a little while as the trio partook in their tea and refreshments. Soon, another set of footsteps and mildly squeaking wheels sounded on the carpet, at the opposite end of the entryway. Randall looked up from his half-eaten cucumber sandwich to see Firth assisting his wheelchair-bound mother, toward the three. They were smiling; perhaps they’d been chatting?
“Firth, Mum! I knew the two of you wouldn’t miss afternoon tea.” Randall grinned, popping the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.
“Apologies for the tardiness, my dears.” Mrs. Ascot bobbed her head, chuckling at her son’s antics. She let Firth park her in front of the table, before he headed over to the futon, plopping himself down in the open seat.
“No better time t’ rest from a day’s work than tea time, I always say!”
Henry set his cup and saucer on the table, moving to pick up the tray as he stood.
“I’ll be right back with your tea, it should still be warm.” He nodded at the group before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“In the meantime, help yourself to the sandwiches and pastries!” Angela gestured to the slowly diminishing platter, giggling. “Preferably, before Randall finishes up all the sandwiches.”
“A-Angela! I only had two this time, I swear!” Randall pouted jokingly. He knew she was only poking fun, but he loved playing along when she did.
“I believe you-” She took a handkerchief from her dress pocket, wiping off some stray crumbs from Randall’s mouth. She was grinning a bit. “-but there’s still supper later, love.”
Randall knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed over something as simple as a pet name- especially from one of his partners- but his face flushed anyway.
“Angelaaaa… not in front of Muuuum…” The pout wasn’t played up this time; though he couldn’t help but snicker and crack a smile at how the handkerchief tickled his cheek.
“Oh, hush, Randall,” Angela laughed, lightly poking his nose after cleaning his cheek, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Your mum already knows about the three of us.”
“Indeed I do!” Mrs. Ascot giggled, and Randall’s face warmed further. “And I’m very happy for all of you.”
Despite the redness in his cheeks, Randall smiled warmly at his mother.
“Happy to hear that, mum- no matter how many times you say it!” He was sure she said it at least once a day, if not more.
Another pleasant silence followed as the group partook in the pastries, with Henry preparing two more cups of tea in the kitchen. Soon, Mrs. Ascot- who’d looked deep in thought for the last few minutes- spoke up.
“By the way, Randall… I wonder where Hershel went off to. I wish we could have caught up more; it’s been so long. I swear, the lad’s grown like a beanstalk since I last saw him! Departed Monte d’Or in a hurry, did he? It seems he’s quite the busybody these days.”
Silence, once relaxed, became stiff in a matter of seconds.
Randall swallowed the remainder of a scone, jaw clenching as he tightly folded his hands in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angela worrying at her bottom lip, running the fabric of her handkerchief between her fingers. From the kitchen, he heard an unnatural rattle of dishes, almost like Henry set them down too quickly on the countertop.
Though his mother hadn’t done it with ill will, a mere mention of that name had caused the room’s mood to shift for the worse.
Hershel bloody Layton. Where had he run off to, indeed.
Randall’s mind was thrown back to the day he unmasked himself for good. What had Hershel done that day, other than attempt to talk him down? Well… it was true that he had prevented him from falling to his death, along with Henry. Even so, it reminded him too much of Akbadain.
Aside from that, however? Nothing more than the quickest of hugs when he was pulled up. To him, it… was cold. It didn’t feel sincere, like Hershel didn’t want to touch him. It’d been disengaged as quickly as it initiated. There was a distinct lack of any caring phrase. No “I’m sorry,” no “I’m glad you’re alright.” He didn’t have to make a grand speech, but something would have been better than nothing-!
Hell, Henry and Angela had shown him more concern, care, and warmth than Hershel! Why in the blazes was the top-hatted fool so cagey and closed off with his own feelings on the matter? He had to watch as Layton practically rushed off with the boy in blue and the young lady in yellow, without so much as a “goodbye!” If he ever saw him again, he-!!
“-ndall! Randall…! D-Darling-!” That was… Angela…
A firm, yet gentle squeeze to his arm snapped Randall out of his head. Reality came back into focus as he saw Henry and Angela on either side of him. Angela was holding his clasped hands, and Henry had the gentle grip on his arm. Firth was behind Henry, still on the futon. His mother, further behind Angela. Worry was present on all of their faces.
“A… Angela, H-Henry… I-I’m… sorry, I-”
“Randall,” Henry cut in, a small shake evident in his voice, “the important thing is, you’re back.”
Angela nodded, her thumb tracing soft circles over Randall’s crossed ones. He only needed a glance to see the distress on her face; she looked like she might cry…
“Randall, dear…” Mrs. Ascot’s saddened voice made his head perk up. “I apologize… I didn’t know that would spark bad memories for you and the Ledores- that was careless of me.”
Randall shook his head, taking a deep breath.
“It… Mum, it’s not your fault at all- you didn’t know, y-you said so yourself… I… suppose that I’m not f-fully recovered from the incident yet.” He couldn’t shake the wobble in his voice as he spoke. Damn lump in his throat…
“L-Love…” Angela finally piped up, words strained. “W-Would you need some space for a moment? Henry and I could bring up your tea a-and a refreshment a little l-later…”
Randall unclasped his hands, and gently wrapped them around Angela’s, despite their trembling. He watched her look up at him; tears still sat at the edges of her eyes.
“Th… Thank you, I appreciate it… but do take care of yourselves as well, please…” He tenderly kissed Angela’s forehead, then reached for Henry’s hand that still held his arm. He couldn’t tell which of their hands trembled more as he softly squeezed it.
Henry sighed, and accepted the comforting gesture. He leaned his forehead against Randall’s shoulder.
“We shall, dear…” A touch of fatigue in Henry’s voice.
The three inhaled and exhaled in unison, silently taking in each other’s warmth for a short moment. This helped them all relax and re-center after something stressful- and what had transpired moments ago definitely fit in that category.
With deep breaths taken, Randall slowly disengaged his partners’ contact as he stood from the futon, and started heading toward his room.
***
The relief Randall felt as he sunk into his bed was immeasurable. However… his mind was still toeing the line between reality and being caught up in his swell of emotions. He knew dwelling on the past was less than ideal; yet, Hershel’s actions- and inaction- bugged him. He claimed concern for Randall’s well-being, but such claims seemed distant and superficial.
What the hell had happened to him in the 18 years since their days in Stansbury, and their treacherous trek in Akbadain?
…It was only now that Randall realized, while caught up in his head, that he forgot his puzzle block out in the living area. Drat. What could he use to try and take his mind off this…?
His eyes turned to his slowly-filling bookshelf, to a book he hadn’t read- much less seen- in years: Donald Rutledge’s Ancient Histories. In the back of his mind, he had been curious about whatever Descole had been babbling about regarding the Infinite Vault of Akbadain- one of the three Azran Legacies. Surely it couldn’t hurt to read up on it?
Sighing, Randall rose and pulled the volume from the shelf, taking it with him as he sunk into his bed again. The pleasant smell of a well-aged book filled his nostrils as he opened it, and a bolt of giddiness raced through him. For a brief moment, he was back in Stansbury, engrossed in a book much like this. Simpler times…
He chuckled. The nostalgia was enough to relax him, at least for a bit. He proceeded to thumb through the book, searching for the chapter on the three Azran Legacies.
Azran burial rites… Azran customs and traditions… Azran delicacies? He snorted in amusement; this book had a lot more than he remembered. Azran technology, Azran legends-
Ah! The Three Azran Legacies, there it was! Right under the heading were listed the the three Legacies: the Golden Garden of Healing; Ambrosia, the City of Harmony; and- the Infinite Vault of Akbadain.
Randall paused, trying to remember if Descole had mentioned any of these at some point during the brief time they… cooperated? Working together seemed like the wrong term.
Either way, a memory trickled back into his head: Descole musing about the Azran Legacies, and how he had run into… Hershel Layton at each one…
Was… that why Hershel was in such a rush? Was he going to-
A knock at his door put the brakes on his train of thought.
“Randall? It’s Henry- I’m here with your tea and some biscuits.” A short pause. “I also noticed you left your puzzle block on the futon, so I have that with me as well.”
Setting aside the book, Randall smiled. Classic Henry, noticing the little things.
“One moment, I’ll open the door for you!” He stood, turning the doorknob. In seconds he was face-to-face with Henry. He still looked a bit shaken, but better than earlier.
“Thank you, Randall,” Henry nodded, with a small smile.
Randall watched him set the teacup and the saucer with biscuits on his nightstand, and place the puzzle block back on the bookshelf. He’d barely taken the first sip of his tea, when he registered Henry’s weight on the bed.
“I know it hasn’t been long, but how are you faring?” Henry’s hand rested on his right shoulder as he had another sip. He swallowed, and turned to his partner.
“I’m better, now that I’ve had some of your wonderful tea.”
Henry scoffed, but he was still smiling.
“I see Angela’s not the only one who’s given such flattery.”
Randall laughed softly.
“Haha- correction, a compliment. Because your tea is delightful, Henry. I mean it.” He set the teacup back on its saucer temporarily, a smile persisting. “It’s the best pick-me-up I could ever ask for.”
Henry hummed, and pecked Randall’s cheek.
“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoy it.”
It was silent for a moment, and then Randall noticed Henry glancing at his open Rutledge book.
“Cracking open Ancient Histories for old time’s sake?”
Randall made an affirmative noise.
“More or less. Couldn’t ignore the itch in my brain any longer- an itch that desperately needed to be scratched.”
Henry tilted his head.
“In what way, if I may ask?”
Oh heavens. How exactly was he going to explain this?
“A… memory resurfaced, and I needed to verify a suspicion, let’s say…”
Henry’s hand on his shoulder tensed.
“A suspicion?”
If Randall’s train of thought was correct in its assumption, then…
“Henry… I want to go after Hershel. I won’t let him run away any more.”