It's been so long, fandom o'mine! Goddammit writing with trimmed nails is annoying as fuck. Yes I swear now, my shipful 13 year-old self is so dead. I burnt her body and made myself a good fire.

So yes, I'm kinda back in the PL fandom? I decided to do a decent story for once, neutral shipping-wise (or at least, not far from the canon ships, which are very scarce) and a bit more developed than my previous stories. Please, don't bother reading them, they're so badly written I'm mildly ashamed :'c

Don't expect much tho, I don't know if I can even carry a decent plot for my life. Just enjoy this story where I try to bring the puzzle family together. As in, the professor, Luke, Emmy, Flora, and also have Clive as well. He's a good character to work with, I'll try to mold him with utmost care.

Just enjoy the prologue, and let's see where this takes us c: Sadly, I still have some crucial points to polish, but I don't think the prologue will dwell too much into them because, you know, it's the damn prologue.

Flora liked to consider herself a good woman. Despite her faults as a human being, those faults no one could ever change no matter how much somebody tried to. To her, somebody could only change a certain percent of themselves, and that was it. Sometimes, it was enough – sometimes, it just plain wasn't.

The young heiress knew very well the thin line between being stupid and being forgiving. Sometimes, the limits were blurred in tears, confusion, or utter disappointment. She had faced these very situations where she was either terribly concerned about other people, others, scarcely often, beyond pissed. However, Flora usually found herself being pitifully disappointed.

People, usually. Like, it was usually people who disappointed her, made her build fake illusions and impressions. Growing up with those backstabbing deceits and insecurities made her very aware of her surroundings, of the people who were around her, and that some people could – betraying what she thought before – hold ill intentions. Being brought up in a tall tower had its inconveniences. Yes, it had good views on a lush landscape, and was incredibly good to avoid pestering tourism concerning a heiress.

No matter the good intentions of her father, she had been so alone. She had grown in a place so close to thunderstorms, and so isolated, yet supposed to believe she had company and that she couldn't meet the outside world. She was terrified: terrified of the outside world, terrified of meeting new people when all she had had was Bruno and howling winds during breezy nights.

Being held in the top of a tower was deceiving, and not ideal if you asked her. But ask her: she possibly wouldn't have had it any other way. Had she been a commoner, the Professor wouldn't be there with her-

Ah, well, he currently isn't with her. He wasn't with her very often, neither was he now for that matter. Flora, age 24 and a blooming flower sometimes felt like despite having moved miles away from her home, felt like her ache and solace hadn't moved an inch from the bleak home of her tower. Almost ten years had passed ever since she had been driven away from the robotic village, yet her dainty stance in life hadn't changed. She was still weak as she was right then, still passive and hidden in a massive crowd.

So there she was, reading that goddamn letter again with a single candle as her companion, long past sunset. She looked at the sentences pointedly, as if trying to decipher a hidden message, any puzzle to comprehend the meaning or reason behind the letter. Flora grasped the sheet tight, frowning. Had it all come to this?

The girl ran a hand through her face and sighed in frustration. Things would never change if she didn't- if she just didn't-

"Flora?"

The mentioned hummed absent-mindedly, still staring at the paper in her hand as if it held her whole life. Her expression turned grim when she saw the undesired face of an offender staring at her through the window in front of her. Well, he was not an offender, but he clearly was the closest thing to one. His antics were clearly not sane and someone, just someone had to explain that barging into her bedroom through the window was not the way to go on life.

She got up from her chair, which scraped the ground, titled and fell. She sure wasn't having none of his antics today, not with serious matters going through her head. The door flew open and there he stood, trench coat on and that scar on his forehead barely visible.

"Clive, what the actual-"

"Language, Flora." He breezed through the doorstep and rearranged his shirt. It was slightly wrinkled. "I reckon the Professor taught you better words to greet a guest."

She was sure he referred to Hershel as Professor either out of respect or just to mock her. And yes, it wasn't in her to swear, but yes, she wasn't having the best of days. Unneeded thoughts were rattling her head endlessly and Clive was not going to help. He never helped unless it was with terrorism and general havoc. Flora would never think otherwise. She still held her kind nature towards him, since being snarky and moody to him wouldn't help the situation.

However, he clearly didn't give a fuck about her so she wasn't really to blame if Clive came across as a narcissistic ex-convict who had redeemed, sure, but still had a long way to go. Specially with her.

"First of, you're not a guest, there was no previous warning of you coming by." Which was fancy talk for: 'I don't want you here, but I'll put up with it'. Flora put the letter back on its envelop. "And secondly, whatever business you have with the Professor shall wait, he's out in one of his business he never tells me about."

Clive rose an eyebrow. "I see."

If he was trying to play obvious or was being as emotionally dumb as usual, she didn't know. What was clear to her was that him being there or even existing in the same place as her drained her energy, so she cut to the chase.

"Clive, what is it that you need?"

He tugged at his collar. Flora welcomed the gesture, she was uncomfortable as well. "I was hoping to take you for a walk."

Flora gave no meaningful reaction and minded her own business taking imaginary dust from nearby books, acting as meek as usual when the unexpected happened. "Take me for a walk?" she sounded genuinely surprised for the first time.

"Well, yes."

Both looked out the window simultaneously and reached the same conclusion.

"It's dark, and it's raining cats and dogs outside, though."

"I'm aware."

There was something behind his eyes that made her hold her breath and remember that he wasn't kind, honest, trustworthy – despite what Hershel said in the end, or mildly friendly. She had kind of forced herself to believe that after he had kidnapped her, had become another one of her kidnappers who took her to spit on the Professor, as if she was an object or a damsel on distress. She was oh, so tired of that.

And Clive had dared to tie bonds with her even when he sure had planned taking her away on the first place. He would always remain as a douche despite him forcing himself to spend time with her, like he intended to do now.

She just withdrew the fight. They weren't on good terms, but that didn't give her the right to be a pain to him. She wanted to change things, but had no hope on him wanting to. She would never be worth apologizing to, it seems. Nobody ever did, anyway. Not the Professor most of the times, nor Luke, Paolo, and sure not Clive, either.

It was so sad.

"We should go before the weather worsens." stated she in a rather stale manner, but it was a good sign. "Let's stay close the neighborhood anyway, just in case the rain gets heavier."

Clive courtly nodded, dazed by the fact that she had stopped being so stubborn on rejecting him and was starting to give the charade up, even if it was for an hour or so. He opened the door for her, grabbed one of her jackets quickly and went on ahead, handing the piece of clothing to her.

The climate wasn't exactly cold, and she was wearing that smooth cream turtleneck which was a bit too warm for that temperature. However, Clive had noted, she was a bit sensitive to cold, so she always wore warm clothing despite it being not so cold. She was always stuffed in jerseys and coats.

However, as they walked along the Thames in the middle of a night drizzle, he noticed how her complexion was slightly hunched over and she gripped her hands a bit tighter than usual. He was a bit too prone to looking into those little details that gave people away. Watching her dwelling on her inner turmoil, focused on a faraway trail of thought that he couldn't comprehend right now; it set on all his alarms: something was off with her.

And yes, she wasn't usually that expressive, keeping herself to herself and appearing naïve and passive. In the past, her feelings had taken refuge on her mind, never spoken out loud or physically expressed for that matter. Her torment must be pretty damn huge if she's being so silent but loud about it.

Flora suddenly stopped in her tracks. Clive walked a few steps forward before stopping and glancing behind him. Confusion was evident in his eyes.

"Clive." she spoke his name, no venom but utmost care and fragility were evident in her voice. "Do you think I'm a burden?"

He turned and approached her, something akin to concern almost visible in his dark irises. She didn't even spare a glance up, focusing on the wet pavement under her feet. She did look up shortly after though, just after she had found courage to look at him without wavering. "Do you think I'm left behind… because I'm useless?"

The way she whispered that sentence spoke volumes to him. That thought must have been in her head for a while if she was so unsure about it, so distraught and seemingly peachy. This was a weak spot for her, and the fact that she was asking him moved him. He could go and shatter her heart, make a run for it and forget about her existence based on what she thought about him— but she actually asked him despite the emotional risk. Her concerns must be above all those judgements, then.

Clive cleared his throat and tried to muster all the care he could in his eyes to cheer her up. He was increasingly uncomfortable with her silence and grey aura. "I think the Professor does not really considerate whether you are useful to him or his investigations, but looks after you by hiding you from his investigations."

"Yes, I-I know." her eyes were cast down again, shadowing her irises. "But why did he always bring Luke along then? Why would he actually do so when he's younger and…?"

Dead silent. She just trailed off after that. The age argument was solid enough for her, and for Clive as well. He was still damn sure that the Professor would never think so low of Flora, somebody he thinks of as a daughter and holds deep care for, to leave her behind just because she isn't useful to him. Of course Hershel Layton wouldn't do such a thing to Flora. It would be much more to be expected from Clive– actually, he kinda did that years ago to her in his fortress, but it was a different situation, different reasons and something he regretted doing.

But why was Flora being so insecure about it? Wasn't it logical to think that your prosthetic father was just caring for you in a fatherly way? What kind of petty insecurity had gotten into her to make her worked up about it? Clive had so many questions to ask her, but it wasn't his place to ask.

It wasn't his business to dig into it when she was still rejecting all his advances, and mostly when he didn't know her well enough to know if this was just a little fish nibbling her heart or there was something bigger than that behind it. However, it struck him as weird to see her giving it so much thought when it didn't seem to bother her that much anymore lately.

Something had clicked on her. And he didn't like it one bit.

Flora mustered up a smile, quivering. "It's alright." It didn't seem to be. "I was just… wondering, that's all."

How dare she smile when she seemed so torn a few moments ago? How could she build her walls around her so quickly so he wouldn't peek and see what was going on? It was unnerving to see her rejecting his intents to make up whenever they had the opportunity and he just wished she'd stop being so scornful and realize he wants to be friends, or at least be at ease with each other. Why can't she forgive him like everyone else had instead of being so closed off?

He stopped toying with the subject so he wouldn't carry a headache home along with his disappointment. This wasn't how the walk was supposed to unfold. And yet again, there was something nagging at him, whispering that something bigger than that was bothering her. He couldn't help but be earnestly worried about it.

"Clive?"

She stopped walking when he didn't follow her. The boy snapped out of his troubling reverie and caught up with her. "Are you sure you are fine?"

Her nod was enthusiastic and apparently honest. "Yes! Don't give it much thought, please. It was just a little thought I was rolling today, but I'm fine now!"

Somehow, despite seeing her so shiny and easy, her sudden glee seemed hollow and mildly faked at best. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. Clive was keen on overthinking stuff and being paranoid about basically every detail in his life – like that time he found out an ant in his apartment and thought it was a plague. That being said, he was usually right on his statements, but this time, he let it pass. If Flora wasn't going to spill the beans, he wouldn't bother to even try.

He had done enough to show he was there for her, whatever she decided to do with that was her problem, not his. And clearly today wasn't the ideal day for bonding, so he just called it a day and took her home. He wished her a good night and left quickly, hearing the door shut and click not long after.

Flora took off her coat and sighed. They had been out for not even half an hour and her mind felt as if she had been through hell and back. Her torment was still there, even after basically weeping in front of Clive. She still felt lonely, weak, and most importantly, clueless as to what to do.

She glanced at the envelope and frowned. If the world wasn't going to move for her, if the tower wouldn't come crashing down on her, then she'd have to do something about it. With a swift movement, she took the envelope, letter inside, and the flame that dimly illuminated the room faded away.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's so short, so scarce in dialogues and SO BAD. It'll get better, I swear :D I'll be retyping this when I have the time. Review if liked, love you! 3