I wanted to write a one-shot for once. So, here's the result.
The first place Clive Dove had told himself he would go after he got out of prison was Misthallery. He was moving there, because he could no longer stand London and besides, Luke's family was residing in Misthallery for the moment. Clive had no idea why but he knew they were there and he figured he'd impacted heavily on Luke. Clive had pledged the minute he had fully moved to Misthallery, he was returning to London to apologise for what he'd done.
He waited outside the Triton Manor's door, but couldn't summon the courage to ring the doorbell, not even knock on the door. He skulked around the gardens, trying to settle his raging mind, when the door opened.
"You do realize there is a doorbell?" Clark Triton asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Clive spun round, words catching in his throat. He didn't know what to say. He stood there for several minutes unable to summon any sounds from his throat. "If you're just going to stand there, then get off of my property!" The threat brought Clive back to his senses, and finally he began to speak, though what he said sounded like gibberish to him.
"I... need to apologise... To you and your son," he muttered. He had to repeat himself before Clark could hear, but when Clark gave Clive a good look he determined Luke could do with hearing an apology for once. Clive wasn't surprised with the house's size, but it was the smell that shocked him. The house smelt musty and the whole place was covered in a layer of dust, but if Clive inhaled deeply enough he could also catch the aroma of some flowers.
"Would you care for some tea, Mister...?" Clark trailed off, hoping Clive would get the hint.
"Dove. Clive Dove," Clive muttered, but loud enough for Clark to hear, and Clark recognized the name instantly. Clive Dove had been a prominent part of Luke's previous adventure, and Luke always recounted his adventures. His parents rightly objected to the dangers Luke faced, but they knew Luke was safe with Hershel Layton. Clive had been a main character in the story, the second antagonist, the one who posed the true danger. But if Clive really had come to apologise, Clark could hardly throw him out for late events. "And yes... some tea would be lovely. If you don't mind."
"Beth! Go get Clive some tea, please," Clark called, leading Clive to the living room. The smell of flowers was strong in the room, relaxing Clive slightly. He had been used to the aroma of flowers in his house, as he took care of Constance's old flowers and when some died he bought more, so he had always been by flowers and he still owned Constance's property, so he still could choose to be surrounded by the aroma of flowers. Clive sat down on the sofa - it was comfortable and he found his still tense body loosening up. Clark sat on the sofa opposite, his eyes flitting around but they always ended up fixated on Clive. He finally decided to get to the point. "You've hurt Luke deeply, Clive."
"Which is why I'm here," Clive pointed out. "I came here to apologise for what I did... You must think I'm mad." Clark laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, barren of emotion.
"I've seen my fair share of madness, Clive. I had a spectre running rampant through the streets of the town, and at the time, I was the mayor. My wife and butler were being held in my cellar, and my son constantly under threat," Clark explained. Clive nodded.
"Quite a bit of madness. But concerning Luke, I still need to apologise to him," he said. Clark knew he couldn't keep Clive away from Luke forever.
"His room's upstairs," Clark mumbled. Clive gave Clark his thanks and as he began scaling the stairs, his legs began to tremble. He felt as if he was going to fall and the relaxation the flowers had provided was gone now he could no longer inhale their scent. He could no longer stand it and he toppled backwards, but someone caught him and steadied him. Brenda Triton had been busy in the kitchen but when Beth had started making tea for a man called 'Clive', she had been worried and had finished removing her home-made cookies from the oven. She had left the kitchen just in time to catch Clive staggering up the stairs. She had followed him and when he had toppled she was there, grabbing him and steadying him against the handrail.
"Are you alright?" she asked, concerned. Clive couldn't choke out an answer any more. Luke Triton, who had heard the thumps, was at the stairs when he caught sight of a shuddering Clive. He bolted down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet. Brenda was still trying to get a word out of the ex-convict. "Excuse me? Are you okay?" Clive was still unable to speak and Brenda took him back down to the living room. Clark wasn't entirely sure why suddenly his wife, his son and his guest had suddenly barged into the living room. But when he saw Clive's pale face, he knew something had gone wrong.
"What's happened?" Clark asked, but he was given no response as Brenda sat Clive down. Suddenly, Clive could smell the flowers again and Brenda could feel his tense body relax beneath her fingertips.
"I couldn't do it," Clive blurted out, regaining his lost voice thanks to the flowers. He had never been so terrified of meeting someone in his life and his unstable nerves had taken control of him. "I couldn't get myself up the stairs..." Clark flashed back to when he had met Clive in the garden. He had hardly been able to speak then.
"He couldn't speak outside, either..." Clark noted audibly. Clive nodded, his shaking body slowly returning to its natural still state.
"It's the flowers," Clive whispered. "The flowers. I need the flowers." Luke was puzzled by this: Clive had been well enough during the Future London adventure without the constant aroma of flowers. But he reminded himself Clive had been festering away in prison for a year and was now left a wreck comforted by the gentle aroma of flowers.
Clark plucked a flower from the vase and handed it to Clive. The effect was immediate - Clive inhaled the flower's scent and straightened, any signs of stress and trauma disappearing in a flash. But what would happen to him without flowers worried the Tritons.
"Luke," Clive said. "I need to tell you something, but I'd prefer to say it to you and you alone." Once Luke had shooed his parents out the room, assuring them that himself and Clive would be fine, he eagerly awaited Clive's statement. "I'm sorry. What I did was entirely, wholly wrong. Acting as a future version of you... Deceiving you..."
"It's okay, Clive. I forgive you," Luke said softly. "It doesn't matter. Let bygones be bygones." Clive nodded and let Clark and Brenda back in, where they interrogated their son in whispers, Clark's harsh but Brenda's not so. Eventually, they stopped whispering and turned their attention back to Clive.
"Clive. Luke and I will be taking you back to London; you've already proven yourself too weak to do so yourself," Clark explained. Clive vehemently objected but eventually he gave in, if only because he knew they were right. He could hardly climb a few stairs, so how on Earth was he expected to make it to London?
"We'll have to keep you overnight, though. We need to have a doctor check you over first," Brenda said, the worry still evident in her voice. You would be worried if you found someone collapsing on your stairs and only saved by the aroma of flowers. "Luke is willing to share his room-"
"I'm fine here," Clive said. "What I mean is, I'll sleep on the sofa." There were objections to Clive's idea, but eventually they agreed, if only because there were plenty of flowers to keep Clive's nerves at ease in the night. The cup of tea finally arrived and Clive took steady sips while the Tritons arranged things from the overnight stay to visiting Flora the next day. They called a doctor, Emmeline Featherstone, to check Clive. After she had run a few simple tests, she had her results.
"The best we can do for you at the moment, Clive, is get you a therapist," Emmeline said, looking through the test results. "This does happen a lot in people recently released from prison. They suffer from some kind of mental breakdown and usually something from their childhood or something very important to them personally works as a temporary cure. For you, it's flowers. So tell me, what do flowers mean to you, Clive? You don't really look like a flower person." Clive thumbed the lily in his and thoughtfully.
"My entire house, which I inherited from my late guardian, has always had flowers. And even when my guardian died I kept watering the flowers and replacing the ones that died off," he said. Emmeline nodded, listening intently. But there was nothing more to be said.
"I'm not sure when I can get you a therapist, but if you give me your number, I can get in contact with you," she said, breaking the short silence. Clive relayed his mobile phone number and watched quietly as Emmeline left. The day went by slowly, with Clive killing time by walking around Misthallery.
When night came around, Clive found he couldn't sleep. The room was at a temperature to his taste and there was only the thought of apologising to Flora eating at his mind, and he didn't know why. He stood up, snatched his spare keys and left the house, but not entirely without detection. Toppy the mouse sat on the staircase, watching as Clive left the house. Toppy bounced up the stairs and crawled under the hole and into Luke's room, squeaking and jumping on top of Luke in an effort to wake the sleeping boy. It took around five minutes for Luke to stir, but when he did, he got the news immediately.
As swiftly as he could, Luke dressed himself and sneaked out the house using the back door, as it was the furthest door from his parents' room. He didn't know where Clive was and what Clive had looked at in his earlier examination of Misthallery, and the best he could do to find Clive was search everywhere. Luckily, Luke had been fast enough to dress that he caught Clive still walking across the old road leading to the park. The park wasn't well-known by tourists, and it was tucked away inside the forest, but a resident must have told Clive about it. When Clive, still unaware he was being tailed, sat down on the swing, Luke sat down on the one to Clive's left.
"What are you doing out this late?" Luke asked.
"I could ask you the same question," Clive shot back. "It's way past your bedtime, you know." Clive kicked off and began swinging back and forth, but if he moved any faster it would be near impossible to speak to Luke properly.
"I came here because you were out," Luke said. "So what are you doing out this late?"
"Going back to London early," Clive explained." I planned to go by foot. I could use a bit of fresh air, rather than being cooped up... I've been cooped up for far too long."
"But you would've worried my parents!" Luke objected. Clive shot him a glare.
"Where do you think I'm going in London? To whose house?" Clive asked, as if Luke was dumb.
"The professor's, of course," Luke replied.
"And the professor knows your father. Honestly, you're less bright than I thought you were. Anyway, since you made the tremendous effort of following me, I'll make sure to mention you were out at one o' clock," Clive said, stood up and walked off. Luke jumped to his feet and ran after Clive, forgetting about telling his parents. The two walked in silence, arriving in London five hours later. Luke was exhausted and tired, so Clive lay him on a bench and let him sleep.
After two hours, Clive risked it and left Luke for five minutes to buy some sandwiches. Clive ate a sandwich in silence then when the clock struck nine, he shook Luke awake. Luke, still tired and bleary, ate the sandwich.
"So where are we going next?" Luke asked after polishing off the sandwich. Clive looked out at the busy London streets.
"The florist," Clive replied and the two pushed their way though the crowds until they reached the florist's. Clive frequented the shop and was greeted by the owner, Medusa Chuffey. She always wore her hair in emerald dreadlocks with the end formed to look like snake heads to match her unusual name.
"Hey, Clive," she said, finishing hanging up the newest wreaths. "What are you in for today?"
"Luke," Clive whispered to his young companion. "What's Flora's favourite type of flower?" Luke cautiously looked around then pointed at a bunch of lilies.
"Lilies," Luke said. Clive nodded and carefully picked up the bouquet.
"I'm getting lilies today, Medusa. So how much is this going to cost?" he asked. Medusa checked the lilies and frowned.
"Oh, those? They're the most expensive of the lot, Clive! Are you sure you want them?" Medusa asked, and Clive nodded. "That'll be £50, thanks to your customer discount. Who are these for? Your sweetheart?" Clive laughed.
"No. I'm just apologising to someone and how better to do it than with their favourite flowers?" Clive explained and forked over the money. Despite the costly fortress, he was still quite wealthy, though blowing his money on lilies wasn't going to get him anywhere. Luke and Clive left the shop now wielding lilies, and Luke had to direct Clive to Layton's house.
"So, what are we going to do?" Luke asked. Clive was in one of those stages where he was only comforted by flowers, and he decided not to strain himself too much. So he formulated a plan in which he didn't have to strain himself to the very limit.
"We're going to leave two things here, then I'm taking you home," Clive said. "Your parents are probably fretting. It's almost half past nine."
"So what are we going to leave?" Luke asked. Clive lay the bouquet on the doorstep and placed his hat on top of it. Two messages hidden in two objects: first of all, his hat would leave the message that he had delivered it and the flowers could either be interpreted as a sign of love, or apology.
"When I ring the doorbell, we're going to run as fast as we can," Clive ordered. "You got it?" Luke nodded and watched as Clive rung the doorbell, then they bolted, getting as far away from the house as they could. Then, they started the five-hour walk back to Misthallery.
Meanwhile, Flora Reinhold opened the door, only to find there was nowhere there. She looked down, as they so often did in the movies, to find a cap lying there. There was only one person it could've belonged to. Flora picked it up and saw what was beneath it - a bouquet of lilies. She picked them up and stared at them for a few seconds before looking for Clive. He was nowhere to be seen, but his scent lingered, mingling with the sweet aroma of the lilies.
This was the only way he could apologise properly, and Flora accepted his apology.
I'm sorry if you think Clive was too weak, but hey, he just got out of prison. He's not supposed to be tough as nails. So, R&R. Oh, and a message from the internal grammar nazi:
RUN EVERYTHING THROUGH A SPELLCHECKER. Oh, and don't trust the grammar thing on Word. It is evil.
Nasty reviewers get a kick in the face from Clive. Good reviewers, imagine a lily appearing on your doorstep.
See ya later, -FVKWY