Good day to you, people! Once again, I decided to write a bit, but this time, I gave the spotlight to our favourite background Scotland Yard helpers: Florence Sich, Dustin Scowers and 'Sniffer' Hague. This gang deserves more love. =)
As said in the description, it's a bonus to "The Pain of Grief", my other Layton Brothers fanfic. If you think the Scotland Yard Trio will let Al suffer alone, you've got another thing coming!
...I hope it's not too long and nothing went OOC in the end.
As usual, I don't own Layton Brothers: Mystery Room.
Let me know what you think, please. Reviews are my sunshine.
Sia later! ~SiaCatGirl
Florence Sich was no expert in gifts.
Mostly because many of her co-workers tried to avoid her, so she didn't have many people to give them to. Sadly, people avoided contact with the IV-dependent forensic analyst who rolled around the lab and hallways on her office chair. Not because they didn't like talking to the smart and friendly black-haired woman, no. It's rather they felt a bit uncomfortable around her, with her sneezing and sniffing almost constantly. Of course, Scotland Yard workers were polite enough to accommodate her needs and appreciate the hard work she does as a forensic. However, things still remained the same. Most people avoided Florence Sich.
Most, but not everyone.
Among those selected few were a bit eccentric detective, an energetic cleaner, a genius inspector and his optimistic assistant.
They all treated her with care and respect, and Lucy was the woman's best friend in the entire force.
So the news of her almost fatal injury made quite an impact on her.
Florence was a regular visitor at that very same hospital which Lucy and Alfendi were admitted to. She even had a few acquaintances there. Two of them were nurses, and one worked in the reception. It didn't take her long to get a hold of the situation. News travels fast, as they say. Especially if it's bad news. Florence was a smart woman, she knew the word of Lucy's condition would spread across the whole Yard in a matter of days. She had to use it while she could. She had to make sure not even a single person will let that word reach a certain inspector with a split personality disorder.
For his own good.
Throughout all the hardships and perils, she kept her lips sealed. Even when Potty Prof tried to interrogate her as if she was a criminal, even when it scared the forensic analyst to no end, her mouth was zipped tight. Florence wouldn't tell him no matter what. Al was one of her few friends, after all. And she knew full well how much the inspector cared about his plucky assistant. The news would be too strong for him. He'd never forgive himself. She didn't have the heart to break his.
Florence Sich had to stay silent.
The news of Lucy's coma were kept secret for another week. And for as long as it remained this way, the woman was calm.
One day, Alfendi came to work as usual, at 9 o'clock sharp, and nothing seemed out of ordinary. But one could feel, when looking at him, that there was something off. Something was missing from his gaze. It felt... dull, somehow. It took Florence only one look to understand the situation in an instant - he had found it out. She was already expecting to be shouted at for not telling him for such a long time, but nothing followed. Not even Potty Prof dared making any comments on it. That's when the woman was hit with a realization she feared the most.
The situation was worse that she thought.
Even though Alfendi didn't show his pain to anyone, Florence, along with Dustin and Sniffer, could practically feel it emanating from him. They understood how broken the inspector was at that moment. They couldn't make the pain go away, it was too much of an impossible task. However, the trio could help him cope with it, make it less agonizing.
And Florence had just the thing.
It was on one lonely afternoon, when Al returned to the Mystery Room after taking the files about a new case from the Commissioner, that he noticed a small white box standing on the desk. It looked like an ordinary box, with no prints or paint and no notes on the top of it. He didn't really care about it's contents, but his curiosity was certainly picked, and after a while, got the best of him. Cautiously, he opened the box to find a salmon hat inside, with a small note pinned to it. With his hands shaking a bit, he took it out and looked at it from every angle. It... It couldn't be!.. It was Lucy's hat, no doubt! But wait... What was it doing there? Then he remembered: the note! Maybe it could explain him everything.
He unpinned the handwritten note from the hat and started reading.
"Al,
I understand how hard it must be for you to know Lucy is in coma now, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, but I know how dear she is to you and I didn't want it to hurt you. So I have a small gift for you. I hope it will make you feel better.
~ Florence
P.S. Those bloodstains were a torture to clean out, but I don't have an A degree in chemistry for nothing!"
As he finished, Alfendi could only give out a little smile and a bitter chuckle. It turned out later that Florence managed to get Lucy's hat from one of her acquainted nurses who, in her turn, took it with her when the Detective Constable was brought to hospital. Hilda used the hat to stop the bleeding from her wound a little. The raven-haired woman washed it from blood and kept it with her all that time, until the moment came when another person needed it much more than her.
Alfendi couldn't help but bring the soft cap closer to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled the distant smell of Lucy's warmth, mixed with a faint scent of apple shampoo, soft smell of lavender soap and a small, but nonetheless strong smell of washing chemicals. It brought back so many memories. Good ones, funny ones, silly ones too. But it did more than that.
Somehow, it gave him faith.
Lucy was a strong girl, he knew. A fierce warrior, when she wanted to. She could fight her way to awakening.
Al only had to have faith.
Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice a forensic analyst with a dripping nose and an IV stand behind the half-closed door, sitting on an office chair with a warm smile of a caring big sister.
Florence was no expert.
But she always knew just what to give.
Dustin Scowers was no expert in advice.
Not that he would give it to people every so often. Janitors were among the so-called "invisible" people of the Yard, with nobody paying them any attention at all. But it had its good side, too. That way one could hear all the latest gossip in the force. "Want to know the rumors - ask a janitor" - an unspoken rule of many buildings and corporations. And Scotland Yard wasn't an exception. But people weren't interested in that sort of things. So they simply greeted the ginger-headed cleaner with a simple "Hi!" or a hand wave or no greeting at all and just walked by.
But there always were four persons who greeted him with a "Hello!" and a handshake.
They were a smart forensic, a bit eccentric detective, a genius inspector and his optimistic assistant.
They shared the latest news with a hearty talk in an atmosphere of kindness and laughter.
So to say the news of Lucy falling into a coma was a real shock to Dusty would be an understatement.
Being a cleaner, it was impossible for him not to get the hang of what was going on. In fact, it was Florence who told him the whole thing. But the main point of her talk was a little favor to him: to keep his mouth shut about it. Naturally, Dustin agreed, but not before asking why, to which a reply came in three words: "For Al's sake". Still, he didn't understand one small thing - why did he have to keep it a secret? Knowing Alfendi, he'd find out sooner or later. And it was a better solution to the problem to let him know sooner, because if not, dealing with such news would be much harder for him.
It wasn't until he heard the whole story from Sniffer that Dustin finally grasped the seriousness of the situation.
It was hard for the janitor to keep his cool attitude when Al barraged him with various questions regarding Lucy. Real hard. Especially due to the fact that Dusty had to come in face-to-face contact with him almost every day. But he kept his word.
Nonetheless, he felt a tad guilty about it.
But there was nothing he, or anyone else, could do about it.
And, unlike Alfendi, Dusty was absolutely okay with this.
It wasn't because of his play-it-cool nature, nor because he didn't care about it, no, Dustin certainly did. It's because he's been through a similar thing. Who said a job of an archaeologist isn't a dangerous one? There were a few times his brother Doug ended up in hospital with a broken bone or a minor head injury, not to mention he was once arrested for murder. The latter doesn't really count, but he knew only time would set all right. One just needed a bit of patience.
Al couldn't understand how that ginger-headed janitor could be so calm after everything he learned, how he could still perform his duties knowing that someone important to them may not wake up ever again. It put them at odds with each other, but Dustin did his best to not let the inspector's grief consume him completely. And the best way he could do it was through words.
Alfendi's real side didn't particularly enjoy all the advice of "getting out and relax" and "accepting the facts", it felt like consulting a psychologist to him. And neither actually did his placid side, to be honest. But there was something about Dusty's cool attitude and a Cheshire Cat smile on his face that was reassuring, giving him hope things will eventually set out right. Though debating with his bleeding heart was hard for Al, truly.
But the inspector didn't care about it at the moment. He was too tired to even think straight. Sitting in an armchair in the Mystery Room, his slightly pale face was covered with his right palm, his hair crimson coloured and dishevelled. Just near his sneakers were bits of cheap beige china and a tiny dark puddle of Earl Grey tea - everything that was left from his teacup and its contents. He couldn't keep himself under control. Again. It's a miracle the broken china didn't hit Dustin, though the sound of it being smashed against the floor sure scared the living daylights out of him, he could sense it. But Alfendi couldn't understand how, despite the fact that he broke his teacup right behind the cleaner's back, not only was he still as cool-headed as before, but he still sweeps the floor as if nothing had happened. He just couldn't.
"Look, Al."
The sudden sound of Dusty's voice broke the silence and returned him to his senses.
"I know wot you're feelin', I really do. But no need to stress yaself like that, nuffin' we can do. The least we can is to cross our fingers an' hope for the best."
Again, that "nothing we can do". It was driving him crazy. He couldn't accept it, it was making him feel useless to Lucy. And he hated it. Unfortunately, right now he was too tired to argue with the janitor.
"Just... Just leave me alone, will you?"
That was all Al could say with the last remains of strength. An "okay" was the reply. Less than five minutes later, the inspector heard the Mystery Room door closing.
With his head still throbbing, he got out of the armchair and came to his desk to put the remaining files into drawers. A salmon hat was lying forlornly on its corner. It drew his attention almost immediately. He's been keeping his assistant's cap on the desk, so it would always be in his view. During work, it helped Al soothe his aching heart a little bit. He took the hat in his left hand and came to the window. The sun was slowly falling to the horizon. New day brings hope, as people say. And that's what Alfendi needed the most now. Hope.
As he looked out the window, a single sentence echoed in his head, and fingers on his right hand crossed by themselves.
"The least we can is to cross our fingers an' hope for the best."
Dustin was no expert.
But he always knew just what to say.
'Sniffer' Hague was no expert in distractions.
Heck, he wasn't good at actually suggesting distractions. The detective was known not only for his strong sense of smell, which compensated his poor eyesight, but also for jumping the gun on his hunches. And it often ended up backfiring on him or those around him. He was a nice person, really, and his intentions were always good, but his habit of jumping to conclusions was a real problem when it came to his job or even his everyday life. His colourful manner of speech, using various idioms and comparisons, didn't help much, either. While people, of course, understood what Sniffer said, they found that manner somewhat weird. So, you could say that he was some sort of an outcast among the other detectives in Scotland Yard, especially since his boss, Justin Lawson, was arrested for two counts of murder.
Nonetheless, four people in the force were always glad to keep the curly-haired ginger company.
Those four were a smart forensic, an energetic cleaner, a genius inspector and his optimistic assistant.
No matter how unusual his ideas or speech were, they were always there not just to hear him out, but to listen to him too. And to joke around with him and Dustin being cousins or something, due to their hair colour being close to identical. Not that he minded it at all, in fact, it was Lucy who came up with this. Sniffer really enjoyed her company.
So the news of her gunshot wound struck him hard. And not because of its consequences.
He was there when it happened.
Hague was also called out by Hilda to help apprehend the criminal. His role was to secure him with handcuffs once the Interpol agents lead him out and help Alfendi and Lucy, should the need arise. He was there with his own pistol, ready to shoot in case of emergency. He was there when the first shot rung out in the silence, hitting Al in the shoulder. He saw Lucy leading her mentor to the exit, to them, holding him under his right arm and letting most of his upper body lean onto her.
And he saw her courageously push him down to safety as another shot was fired, after which the girl fell limp on the ground.
His surroundings became a blur as he dashed forward to the two. Sniffer could only make out the clatter of Hilda's heels and footsteps of Interpol agents leading the criminal and his accomplice to the exit. He was acting mostly on instincts. The shock left his memories dazed, but he could still make out the rosy blotches on Alfendi's and Lucy's clothes, with small pools of blood underneath their wounds. Its smell was giving him a feeling of nausea. Hague was giving the first aid to the inspector, while Hilda was taking care of Lucy. Fortunately, the Interpol investigator arranged for an ambulance van to be brought to the scene beforehand in case professional medical help would be required. So neither of them ended up losing their lives.
But the whole ordeal left the ginger-head exhausted and broken. Of course he knew Lucy was loyal to her mentor and it was of her own accord, the way she fought for him and for the truth at Forbodium Castle proves it, but to pay such a high price to save someone dear to her... It was beyond his comprehension.
And he knew Alfendi would definitely think the same. He wouldn't be able to accept such sacrifice.
So when Florence told him to stay silent about it, he agreed without hesitation.
The next few weeks were the hardest for the poor detective. Once Inspector Layton was checked out from the hospital, he interrogated him on Lucy's whereabouts almost at any possible chance. Sniffer wasn't the ideal man when it came to keeping secrets, but he never betrayed the promise he gave Florence, even though he was close to confessing a couple of times. If it wasn't for the aforementioned forensic and Dustin, the cleaner, he would've spilled the beans almost straight away.
But once the truth reached out to Alfendi, the detective decided to try out a different technique. After all, he's been through a similar thing as well. When Justin was put in jail for murder, to him it felt like an old friend's death.
He knew the pain.
And Hague had his own methods of coping with it. It helped him, so why shouldn't it help Al?
Distracting yourself from negative emotions has always been a good way of dealing with stress. It's been used for centuries. Even if it can't make the pain go away, it can at least lessen its stressful effect on a person's soul.
And now was the perfect time to try it out.
Saying Alfendi was more that dissatisfied when the curly-haired ginger suggested him a walk around the noisy streets near their workplace would mean saying nothing. He didn't particularly enjoy being in the hustle and bustle of an industrialized city, but once he and Sniffer actually got out there, it didn't feel as bad at all. In fact, both of his sides mentally agreed they needed a little break. They visited a small coffee house round the corner, wandered through a park, met a few people. And all the time the detective would talk about a load of different things, anything but what would remind Al of his job, so that he would have a proper mental relaxation.
Still... Throughout the whole day out, the inspector couldn't get his mind off his dear assistant. Many things around him reminded him of her. Too many. Because she would do the same things whenever they had a chance - take him out on a stroll, visit a few stores, feed pigeons in the park.
But, strangely enough, those memories weren't as painful as he thought.
In fact, the more he thought of it, the more he started realizing what a wonderful person Lucy was. With her positive attitude and an exceptional ability to see a bright side of things even in the toughest of times, with her ruby eyes shining with joy and face decorated with a sweet smile, she brought him back to life after four years of locking himself away in the Mystery Room. She didn't leave him behind back at Forbodium Castle even he confessed to "murdering" Keelan Makepeace, unlike Hilda or Justin did. She believed in him. And her faith in him was of her own heart.
Some of the people they - or more precisely, Sniffer - met during the day knew Lucy too, and they only spoke good of her. Make sure that neither of the Yard workers said a word of her coma. They all described her as a wonderful girl, smart and hard-working, who would always help a friend in need. It further proved to Alfendi just what an amazing person the Detective Constable was.
It was then that a shocking realization hit him like an icicle fallen from a rooftop.
He didn't understand that strange feeling at first, way back when Lucy was still in full health and energetically helped him around in the Mystery Room. He thought himself to be sick, that he was coming down with a cold, but it wouldn't go away. In fact, it only strengthened whenever his assistant was nearby.
And it finally became crystal clear to him.
He loved her.
And Hague was sure he could see that light of clarity in Alfendi's eyes, even if he wouldn't have been wearing his glasses at that moment.
Once their walk came to an end, and they both returned to their workplaces, the ginger detective gave the now much more lively-looking inspector a friendly pat on the right shoulder (his left one hurt whenever somebody touched it) and advised him to stay strong before getting back to work.
He had to do it, Alfendi told himself. He had to stay strong. For Lucy's sake.
And the love in his heart would help him.
'Sniffer' Hague was no expert.
But he always knew just what to suggest.
They were no experts.
Florence, being the caring big sister for the whole trio, Dustin, with his reassuring play-it-cool smile from ear to ear, and 'Sniffer' Hague, with his lively speech and energetic character. They were ordinary people with no special talents, like outcasts of Scotland Yard, and that was what bonded them in the first place. Then two people working in the back office of all the back offices joined their little club. Together, they looked out for each other and helped each other in the times of need.
So if you think that they would've left Alfendi behind when he was most vulnerable, you're dead wrong.
It's thanks to them he didn't let his grief defeat him completely. Thanks to them he found strength in himself to keep moving forward and carry faith, hope and love with him from day to day.
And it wouldn't be fair of him to not thank them for their help.
One evening, when Florence had to stay in the lab late again, she found three small boxes of cheap sweets one can buy in any store on her table. On each of them was a note, which said a box was either for Florence, Dustin or Hague, attached by a piece of sticky tape. She later gave both of them their boxes, thank goodness they didn't leave the Yard early, like everyone else. On the other side of all three notes was a printed message which said:
"Thank you. For everything."
It didn't take them long to figure out the message was from Alfendi, and that normal italics represented his placid side, and the bold ones represented his potty one.
Those four short words told them more than a whole letter would.
It was simple, and not given them personally, but it was the way he showed his gratitude to them. And if even Potty Prof added his little bit to the message, it was genuine, and that what was most important.
Smiling wide, the Scotland Yard Trio shared a brofist.
No, they weren't experts.
But they always knew just what to do.