Okay, I know that I should be working on Sleeping Beauty and I know that I promised that SB was the last one before exams buuuut I'm in the middle of exams, so that's okay, isn't it? I couldn't help myself anyway. I just. Couldn't.
"Professor! Help!" A shrill cry erupted from below the Professor's study, which had now come to life upon hearing the desperate plea. The Professor and Luke, who had been relaxing and listening to Elgar's Cello Concerto, now abandoned their cups of tea and newspapers as they scrambled from the office. Outside, they heard a car door slam shut which made them sprint all the more faster. Approaching the final steps, the Professor cast his composed persona to the side as he leaped to the level floor and called out to Flora.
"Flora! Where are you?"
"The kitchen, Professor!" Luke pointed and dashed in the direction of immense heat.
"Oh no..." Professor Layton murmured as he tailed Luke to the kitchen. Upon arriving, they both halted, forbidden from entering by the wall of fire. The Professor called out again, desperately, "Flora, are you in there!"
"Please help!"
A moments hesitation before he leaped through the fire and warned Luke to stay where he was. Once inside the spacious kitchen, the Professor immediately found his adopted daughter among the roaring fires. She was backed against the worktop opposite the cooker with her eyes tightly closed and her hands drawn up to her face in terror.
Quickly, he ran to her, avoiding the fires that were dotted about the floor and ripping through the walls. He softly held her shoulders to be sure to not surprise her but she made no reaction. Worried, he ran through all the best ways of getting them out of there quickly and safely. The window? No, the glass would surely be troublesome to break and could put them in danger. The door into the living room? No, the fires would burst through and they could inhale a large amount of smoke, possibly rendering them unconscious, if they weren't careful.
No, the easiest and fastest way would be to go back through the fire. Picking Flora up delicately in a bridal-style manner, as she was mostly unresponsive to any gentle tugs, he made sure that she lay securely in his arms as she became heavier when her consciousness wavered dangerously. But surely, she mustn't have been that heavy... He ran and held Flora to himself tightly when he lunged through the fire that had only grown since him and Luke had arrived at it's barrier.
Staying true to his word, Luke had stayed put, albeit nervously, when Layton jumped into what he depicted as hell. Coughing quietly and unobtrusively, the Professor lay Flora down on the ground until he could find better accommodation for her and the strength to carry her. Luke rushed over to her as she roused loudly. She began wheezing and rasping. Luke began speaking to her in rushed tones in an attempt to keep her awake while the Professor located the closest fire extinguisher in the hall.
As the Professor shrank the fires down to simple ashes efficiently, Luke was still talking at Flora who wasn't responding with words, just fitful coughs and glazed-over eyes. Once the fires where eliminated, the Professor rushed back, picked the small girl up, ran to her room. When he lay her down on her bed, she opened her eyes again.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean it." She whispered helplessly. The Professor smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder gently.
"My dear girl, there is no need to apologise. It was a simple mistake."
Flora smiled again and sat up carefully against his protests. She outstretched her arms to the Professor and watched with delight when he happily reciprocated the gesture.
"I'm just glad that you're safe, Flora." He felt how her hold around his neck tightened and how she leaned against him with trust.
He felt bad leaving her in the house all alone. Every time the Professor and his apprentice would explore London's vast selection of challenging and equally intriguing puzzles, his mind would drift back to Flora and how she was doing. But unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The world outside of their house was far more dangerous than inside. After the small hiccup in the kitchen he would regularly check on Flora throughout the day but a couple of days after, when he was convinced that Flora wouldn't be doing any cooking unsupervised, him and Luke were able to solve the mysteries that shrouded London.
Yesterday, the Professor had to leave in the early hours of the morning and returned home after a tiring day of lecturing at Gressenheller University. Luke was at the police station speaking with Barton about the latest dubious cases so the quiet was to be expected. However, he was usually greeted minutes or even seconds later by Flora who would then brew a cup of tea for the both of them and discuss their day. This particular time, though, he was not.
"Flora?" He called as he advanced further into the house. Checking the windows on the way, all locked- he noted, he came to the kitchen. No signs of a recent fire and still no sign of Flora. Perplexed, the Professor went to leave the house in search of her when the sound of a closing door echoed through the rooms with a small questioning greeting following in its wake. Relief crashed into the Professor as he met Flora halfway and took the bags from her cold and petite hands.
"Ah. Shopping, I see. I almost went off in search of you, my girl." His tone was not chastising yet it held a stern element of parental concern that rang through its words. Flora cast her eyes downwards and was about to apologise when the Professor carefully placed the bags on the floor and place his hands on her shoulders.
"I apologise. Forgive me, Flora." He felt her muscles immediately relax under his touch.
"Of course I'll forgive you, Professor. After all, it is the lady-like thing to do."
As Flora sat on her colourful bed, she inspected her hands, traced the creases on her palms. After a considerable amount of time and a quick glance out of her window to the starry night, she nodded to herself with determination. Retrieving the hidden case under her bed, Flora opened the window and expertly scaled the wall down to the dew-covered grass.
She walked towards the Laytonmobile. Once seated inside, behind the wheel, her hand reached up to her face. It tugged at the skin, almost regretfully at first but increasing in freneticism. After a short while, she grew agitated and eventually ripped her skin.
Well, his skin.
A rubber mask was held carefully in petite hands that were soon ripped off like gloves. The appendages and mask alike were thrown onto the passenger seat as the driver removed the constricting clothing. Ahh... It feels good to finally relax.
Don Paolo's eyes closed momentarily in bliss as he removed the tiny shoes from his feet. Everything was thrown onto the passenger seat before Don looked at the house that held the man who had been so kind to him. Even though it wasn't the Great Don Paolo that Layton had been nice to, it was his adopted daughter, it still felt nice to be treated like... a human being once in a while. If Layton had seen through his disguise then he had definitely kept his discovery well-hidden. He didn't exactly want to part ways because when he returned the kid after borrowing her life for a couple days she would most definitely blab and then Layton would think he was even weirder.
He could bribe or threaten her but when she was in the safety of his house, she wouldn't miss out a single detail. Maybe he could pose as her for just a little longer...? Satisfied, he started up the Laytonmobile as quietly as he could and drove to his current hideout; a comfortable council house in the suburbs of London. A fair distance away from Layton's and the police stations, of course. Up till now, Don hadn't done anything bad to the kid except for kidnap her and he even made frequent trips to feed and check up on her. Like yesterday, for example, when Layton came home and couldn't find him- Flora- anywhere. He had miscalculated the time it took to tie the kid down to the chair for a second time in five minutes because she tried running away.
He shook his head as he remembered the hug Layton had given him. A while ago, after Claire left for a second time, he realised something. He hadn't been pining for the attention of her. He wanted- no, needed to be noticed by Layton all those years ago and now all these years, too. At first, it was definitely competition but soon after... he didn't know- something just changed. He disliked him for a long time, lets just say. But, hate? Denial can be a dangerous thing for the mind to experience. Maybe it was this that he was feeling but the only way he could make sense of anything would be to seek vengeance and declare war on the man who never noticed him, like he always had. On the man that he... could now slightly tolerate after allying with him.
His mind had once again travelled too far. He was sitting in the drivers seat outside of his destination. Clearing his head with the ripe morning air, he quickly rushed into his house with his case to find Flora asleep on the bed. Wait... hadn't he put her in a chair before he left? Nevermind, he thought. Resisting the urge to slap her and wake her up, Don bent over and poked her arm.
Unsurprisingly, she was an incredibly light-sleeper. She woke with a start but softened her gaze when Don continued to peer down at her harshly. Hmph, I think she's starting to trust me. Stupid girl.
She yawned momentarily behind a slender hand and bid her captor a good morning.
"Good morning? Good morning?! That's all you have to say after I wrestled you into that chair with you kicking and slapping at me?" He began to seethe on the outside but on the inside, he knew that this was, and would be, a normal day. So did she, somehow. She rolled her eyes and sat up elegantly. He needed to mimic that the next time Layton saw him wake up as the kid.
"You didn't expect me to sleep in a chair, did you?" She asked in her usual quiet tone.
"I don't care!" He proclaimed, jumping away in feigned frustration. He retrieved a bag of food from his grey case and threw it in her general direction. It landed several feet away from the bed and Don made no move to pick it up and be a gentleman as he pillaged his case for anything else. She sighed and left the bed to find her food for the day when she became curious.
"Why have you kept me here so long? You don't normally bring food... well, the other times before this one. And I've been here for..." She looked to the boarded up windows and couldn't tell if it was even night or day, "So, why?" It was an innocent question but Don did not want to answer it. He was a little more concerned with how calmly she was taking this. It was a kidnapping, why did she have to be so unnervingly collected!
"It's none of your business, brat." He hoped the small insult would deter her. But, his luck as a villain never seemed to change, did it?
"Well, I'm the victim, so it is my business, Mister." She stated matter-of-factly. He checked his watch and sighed.
"If you stay here the rest of the day, I'll tell you. But you have to stay here, kid."
"I promise!" Her eyes lit up as she clapped her hands, excited to hear the secret at the end of the day. She bid farewell as he rushed out of his humble house again to the Laytonmobile. Only when she heard the engine start up did she check what was in the bag. She gasped loudly and mentally thanked Don Paolo for the first time in her life.
"Cookies!"