[[A short Tumblr prompt I forgot to upload here.
Spoilers: For Miracle Mask and for the current news we have on Lady Layton.
Set: Some of this will be down to vague speculation as the new game isn't even out yet.]]
Homecoming
Day two hundred and forty-three.
There was frantic shouting and pounding at the door.
Blearily, Randall lifted his head from the maps littering the desk. He fixed his glasses and ran a hand through his greying red hair.
"…Randall! Master Randall!"
"Whaaa..?" he groaned, half yawning. He glared at his map of Europe as Henry burst into the study, struggling without his cane.
Henry gasped, "Emmy just called—"
"I heard enough from Sheffield earlier." Randall ripped a drawing pin and a string away from Russia. "That lead in Froenborg has gone cold." The location was so heavily linked to the Azran and Targent— Randall really thought they'd been on to something this time. All he needed was a sign, anything, leading to Hershel.
Randall gritted his teeth.
How had Henry and Angela survived waiting for eighteen years? How had Hershel moved on with his life?
How had Hershel gone missing—?
"They've found him!"
The pin fell from his grip. He gaped at Henry, breathing, "Don't tell me he's…?"
Henry's smile was the brightest Randall had ever seen. "He's home— he's alive."
Alive. Alive. Alive!
For the first time in eight months, laughter spurted from Randall's mouth and he was suddenly spinning Henry around the room. "He's home! In London?" Henry nodded and Randall smacked a kiss on his forehead. "What are we waiting for? Tell Angela! We're going to see him!"
Henry let Randall drag him out of the study. "Angela already knows. She's arranging transport as we speak. Though, we really should inform Dalston."
A small part of Randall wanted to keep the news private. He imagined letting go of the secret, only for a horde of enemies to discover his best friend's location. But Dalston deserved to hear about it. He'd been waiting as long as the rest of them.
The wait was nearly over.
The last time Randall visited London, and several times before that, he was gathering clues on the disappearance of Hershel Layton. In his turmoil, he didn't notice how the city had changed with Hershel's absence, or how the Layton siblings had taken measures into their own hands.
Flora worked with Emmy and Luke, occasionally releasing questions and comments to the public regarding the disappearance. Meanwhile, Alfendi had apparently conducted his own investigation from the shadows.
Who would have imagined Katrielle would be the one to bring their father home?
The journey from Monte d'Or to London was a long one, but no way was Randall missing the homecoming party Emmy had organized at Gressenheller.
"HERSHEL!" Randall's cry echoed across the entrance hall. Quite briskly for a man of his age, he barged through the crowd of guests towards the black top hat. (Henry and Angela apologized to those he left in his wake.)
"Oh joy, it's Ascot—" Desmond Sycamore was shoved aside.
"Uncle Randall—?" Alfendi went reeling into a buffet table.
"Aroo—!" There was a yelp as Randall tripped over someone's Basset Hound. The beaming faces of Katrielle, Luke and Flora flew past him until, finally, he caught Hershel in a hug, knocking off his hat.
"It's good to see you too, Randall," Hershel chuckled.
"When Ems called, I thought— I thought you were dead," Randall choked out. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"
Hershel patted his back. "I can only imagine…"
Randall pulled away to look him in the eye. "We searched everywhere. Where on Earth were you? Were you kidnapped? Did you get distracted by a puzzle? How did Kat find you?"
"It's a long story…"
Randall pulled up a chair. "Then you better start telling it."