A/N: Hey guys! This was inspired by the news of Lady Layton, and pictures of Kat Layton! After looking at her, I realized her eyes looked a lot like Henry Ledore's, and I finally found a pairing for Layton that wasn't Claire that I could be comfortable with (Not LaytonxHenry, don't worry!).
So here it is, my way of inserting Kat into the universe I've built up! Obviously, it's AU from whatever will happen in Lady Layton, so… oh well, haha.
I apologize in advance to any incorrectly used Spanish. I blame Google Translate.
Direct sequel to my story "The Professor's Apprentice," by the way!
…
A deep sigh wrenched itself from the chest of a certain top-hat wearing gentleman, the sea breeze playing at his brown jacket.
Professor Layton watched as the shore of California, United States slowly sank beneath the horizon, knowing it would be some time before he saw his apprentice and friends again. But that wasn't the only thing that weighed heavily on him.
An emotion, so familiar, yet not felt for a long time, filled his heart.
Loneliness.
His mind returned once more to the closeness between Clark and Brenda, the blatant emotions between Phoenix and Maya, the love between Randall and Angela. Beyond that, he thought simply of his friends, and the growing distance between himself and them.
None of the professor's friends resided in London anymore.
And Claire...
Another sigh escaped the man.
"Hershel? Hershel Layton, is that you?" a familiar, yet accented, voice said from behind the man. The professor turned to find a woman, about four years younger than himself, standing behind him, a shocked look on her face.
The light brown, curly hair and wide blue eyes were familiar, but the tan definitely wasn't.
"I'm sorry, my dear, but you seem to have me at a disadvantage," Hershel said with a quizzical smile and a tip of his hat.
"Oh, Hershel, you're even more of a gentleman then I remember!" the woman giggled. "It's me, Mari- I mean, Mary. Mary Ledore."
"M-Mary!? My, it has been a while, hasn't it?" the professor said, pleasantly surprised.
Mary Ledore was an eminent cultural anthropologist, known for staying years in one village or another, totally immersing herself in the field work, before writing truly groundbreaking journals on the indigenous people she studied. She specialized in Latin American cultures, such as Mayan or Aztec villages.
Mary Ledore was also the little sister of Henry Ledore. Hershel knew her from Stansbury, though he'd hardly said more than a handful of words to her before she would rush off in shyness back then.
"Diez anos," Mary said, leaning against the railing next to Hershel, before noticing the confused look on Hershel's face. "Ah, I mean ten years," she corrected herself with a giggle.
"Your accent... Have you spent those past ten years in South America, my dear?" Hershel asked.
"Si! It's been quite exciting, though I fear I'm dreadfully behind the times in London." She shook her head. "I had the London Times and the Monte d'Or Express sent to my P.O box in Mexico City, but it's going to be a lot to get through..."
"It sounds like it," the professor sympathized, before looking out at the water again.
"Hershel... Are you okay?" the woman suddenly asked. The professor turned to face her again, looking surprised.
"Yes. Why?" he answered. A true gentleman never lies... But one never burdens a lady with their troubles. Oh Claire, sometimes being a true gentleman can be hard... he thought, understanding his apprentice's plight.
Mary studied the man in front of her, her eyes even more piercing then her brother's.
"You just seem..." she started before shaking her head, switching tracks. "How about we eat dinner together tonight. You can catch me up on the major events I've missed," she said. Professor Layton chuckled at that, tipping his hat again.
"Of course, Mary. It would be my pleasure," he replied.
...
That night, the professor and Mary met in the entrance to the dining hall on board the ship.
"Hola, Hershel," Mary said with a warm smile.
"Hello, Mary," Hershel replied, returning the smile with a tip of his hat, before offering his arm. Mary took it graciously, allowing the gentleman to lead her to a table for two. Once there, he let go of her arm and pulled out her seat for her. She smiled again.
"Gracias," she said.
"You're welcome," Hershel replied, knowing the basics of Spanish, before taking his own seat.
"Claire has trained you well in the ways of a gentleman," Mary said with a giggle. Hershel stiffened slightly, almost unnoticeably so, but Mary was too trained in reading body language to not notice. "Hershel? What is it, what's wrong?"
"Claire... Passed away, my dear. About ten years ago. Just after you left," Hershel said in an even voice. Mary gasped softly, reaching over the table and gently putting a hand in the man's wrist.
"Oh dios mios… I am so sorry, Hershel. I had no idea," she said. Hershel smiled slightly, looking up at the woman.
"It's alright, Mary. No damage done," he said, before inspecting the menu. "So, would you like an appetizer, my dear?"
Mary inspected the menu for a few moments before picking something. She then sighed dreamily.
"It's been so long since I've had real, English tea," she said. Hershel laughed, ordering their appetizer and some tea, before looking forward at her.
"So, what do you want to know?" Hershel asked.
"Well, tell me about your adventures. I'm sure you had plenty," Mary said with a smile, leaning forward with bright eyes. Hershel looked up, thinking for a moment.
"Well, I don't know if I'd call them 'adventures'..." he said modestly, but began to tell her, starting with Misthallary, then Ambrosia, Monte d'Or (she was overjoyed by the news that Randall was actually alive, and that her brother wasn't the monster he had seemed last she saw him), the Azran secrets, St. Mystere, Folsense, Labyrinthia, Future London (this horrified her, considering it was the largest terrorist attack known to London), and, most recently, the Maze Stones of South California.
During his tales, the two had gotten through their appetizer and had moved on to the main course. Now they were just relaxing, enjoying their tea. Finally he finished.
"Wow... You've been quite busy," Mary said, shaking her head. "You have a daughter now and everything!"
"A charge, yes," Hershel corrected with a chuckle. "Flora is quite amazing," he said fondly.
"She sounds like it," Mary said, resting her chin on her hand, before yawning.
"Are you tired, my dear?" Hershel asked. Mary giggled, glancing at her watch.
"Si, but it's also quite late," she admitted, showing him the time, which was well past midnight.
"Ah. Allow me to walk you back to your quarters, Mary," the gentleman offered, putting the money down on the table and standing, offering her his hand. She smiled warmly, taking it.
"If you insist," she said as he pulled her up. The two walked through the ship, making small talk, until they reached her room. Hershel smiled, kissing Mary's hand.
"I had fun, tonight," he said. Mary smiled warmly back.
"As did I. Thank you for tonight," she replied.
"Thank you. You invited me, remember?" Hershel replied. Mary giggled.
"True," she replied. Hershel smiled once more.
"Mary... Do you want to meet up again tomorrow? I'd love to hear about your own adventures," the Professor said. Mary's smile grew.
"Sure. Will lunch work?" she asked.
"Lunch is perfect," Hershel replied. "Good night, my dear."
"Buenas noches, Hershel," Mary said, slipping into the room and closing the door. Hershel smiled, guessing the meaning, and returned to his own room.
...
The two met the next day for lunch, with Mary leading the conversation this time. Hershel absorbed everything she told him, from her culture shock to assimilating to the culture, to the adventures she had with her host family.
"See, it's a matriarchal society, so, as a woman, I have a lot of freedom," she explained. Hershel smiled, sipping his tea.
"Fascinating!" he said with a genuine smile. "It sounds as though you have truly found your calling."
"I have, Hershel. It's so amazing. It's a lot like your's and Randall's love for discovering the secrets of different societies, but rather then ancient artifacts and bones, I have the actual living people to befriend and study." She shook her head with a warm sigh. "I couldn't imagine doing anything else…"
Hershel smiled, taking another sip of his tea and studying the woman in front of him, her blue eyes bright with excitement, passion filling her voice.
The two continued to meet for meals for the rest of the trip back to London, talking and enjoying each other's company.
By the end of the week, Hershel began to realize something. When he was with Mary, his loneliness seemed to melt away. Instead, he was comfortable and happy. A warm feeling filled his chest.
But when they had bid each other fair well, the loneliness reared its ugly head and clawed at him.
He recognized this. He'd only felt it once before ten years earlier, with one other woman.
Claire.
…
"How long will you remain in London?" Hershel asked, watching the docks of London drift closer. Mary leaned against the railing next to him, thoughtfully.
"About two months," she said. "I have to do a few things at Gressensheller, including write a dissertation. Then I plan to go to Monte d'Or for about a month before going back to South America," she explained. The professor nodded.
"Makes sense…" he said softly. Mary looked up at him curiously, and he smiled back at her. "Would you join me and Flora tonight for dinner?" Hershel asked. Mary smiled warmly.
"Of course! What time?" she asked. Hershel pulled out a piece of paper, writing his address down.
"Five o' clock?" he suggested, handing her the paper as the ship slowed to a stop at the docks.
"Alright. I'll see you then," she said, kissing him on the cheek before heading down the gangplank. "Hasta luego!"
Hershel slowly raised a hand, brushing his fingers over the place her lips had brushed, before sighing, following her down the plank and waiting for the Laytonmobile to be unloaded.
…
Once he returned home, he found the most recent newspaper resting on the doorstep of his flat. He picked it up, carrying it inside with the rest of his stuff, and sitting down in front of the unlit fireplace, unfolding it.
On the front page, to his surprise, he found a picture of Flora.
Ring ring! Ring ring!
Without looking up, he answered the house phone.
"Hello?"
"Oh, Professor! Thank goodness you're home!"
"Rosa?"
"It's Flora. She's back now, but she had vanished while you were away!" Rosa fretted. Hershel looked again at the newspaper.
"Yes… I think I see the reason why…" he said, reading the headline. 'Flora Reinhold and Eric Shiner save children and discover City of Bronze.' "I'll talk to her when she comes home today. Thank you, Rosa," he said. A sigh from the other end of the line.
"You're welcome, Professor. I swear, that girl is just like you!" The professor chuckled at that, knowing just how many time he himself had disappeared on Rosa.
"I am sorry, Rosa," he said.
"It's alright. I'll see you tomorrow. G'bye, Professor!" she said before hanging up. The professor returned his attention back to the article, reading through it, a warm feeling of pride filling his chest. Once he finished the article, he stood, putting his belongings away, before sitting again, reading the rest of the paper while he waited for Flora.
He heard the door open and close quietly, and footsteps on the stairs.
"Flora?" he called, smiling slightly when he heard a soft replying sigh. The professor stood, folding the paper and holding it in his left hand. She turned to him, a smile breaking across her face.
"Professor!" she said happily, darting over and hugging him. Hershel chuckled, hugging her back for a moment before letting her go and looking at her seriously.
"Rosa said you vanished while I was away," he said. Flora looked down with a soft sigh.
"Professor, there was a letter—" she began. Hershel smiled warmly.
"I am so proud of you, my dear."
"What?" Flora gasped, looking up at the man. He held up the paper, letting her see the front page.
"I read the entire article. You did well, my dear," he said with a warm smile. Flora grinned at him.
"I learned from the best," she said, and Hershel chuckled again. Flora suddenly tipped her head to the side, looking thoughtful. "Professor…"
"Yes, my dear?" Hershel asked, wondering what was wrong.
"Do you… really tell other's that I'm your protégé?" she asked. Hershel nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes. That is how I see you, after all," he said, before suddenly getting worried. "Unless… you don't want to be?" he asked, looking at Flora, but thinking about the mystery she had just solved. Flora's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head.
"No! I do," she said quickly, and Hershel relaxed, happy he didn't upset her. "In fact," Flora began, causing Hershel to look at her again. "I feel as though I could learn more from you… as a… um… assistant?" she asked. Memories of Emmy filled his mind, but he knew Flora would be a much different assistant then his brash, headstrong, first assistant. He looked at Flora with an amused expression.
"You wish to be my assistant?" he asked.
"Yes," Flora said in determination.
"Hm… well, maybe that's not a bad idea after all…" Hershel said, standing up straight with a nod. "Alright, my dear. I will take you on as my assistant."
"Oh, thank you, Professor!" she said brightly, hugging him tightly again. The professor laughed again as Flora pulled back. She then looked thoughtful again.
"Professor… could you teach me how to fence?" she asked.
"…Um…" Hershel mumbled, unsure how to answer that. He glanced at an old Grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and found the perfect escape. "My, is that the time already!?" he gasped, quickly heading to the kitchen to see what they had to cook.
"Professor?" Flora asked, looking after him.
"My dear, I am having an old friend over for dinner tonight, at five," he explained. Flora looked at the time.
"Oh! Do we need anything?" she asked. The professor nodded, handing her some money.
"Yes, unfortunately," he sighed, giving her a short grocery list.
"My first job as your assistant!" Flora said brightly. "I'll be back!"
Hershel sighed in relief, thankful he didn't have to answer the question about fencing.
An hour later, Hershel was carefully pulling dinner off the stove. He had insisted on cooking dinner tonight ("A true gentleman and gracious host always cooks for his guests"), when there was a knock on the door.
"I got it!" Flora said, quickly going to the door and opening it. Mary smiled warmly.
"Hola. I'm Mary. This is the residence of Hershel Layton, right?" she asked. Flora smiled warmly.
"Yes, it is," she said, stepping aside to let the woman in. "I'm Flora, the Professor's assistant," she said proudly. Mary chuckled at that.
"It's nice to meet you," she said warmly. Flora smiled, leading the woman in to where Hershel was finishing setting everything on the table.
"Ah, hello, Mary," he said warmly. Flora studied the professor, surprised. The last time she had seen this type of reaction from the professor towards a woman, was towards Claire. She looked between the two adults, wondering what was going on between these two.
"Hola, Hershel," she said with a warm smile, before looking at the dinner. "Oh dios mios… This smells wonderful," she said. Hershel smiled at that, pulling the chair out for her.
"Thank you, my dear," he said as the woman sat. Flora smiled slightly, sitting in her own seat and silently watching the interaction between the two adults. Hershel and Mary talked about anything and everything, seeming to never run out of anything to talk about. While they didn't notice, Flora could see the two of them leaning closer to each other. Flora smiled warmly, deciding to write Luke later that night.
…
After dinner, Flora slipped upstairs to her room, mentioning something about homework. Hershel lead Mary into the living room, which was cluttered with books, artifacts, and pictures.
"Oh, wow!" Mary suddenly giggled, picking up one of the pictures. Hershel looked over to see it was a picture of himself, Luke, Emmy, Henry, Angela, Alphonse, and Randall, standing in front of the Akbadain monument in Monte d'Or, a few days after the Masked Gentleman had been unmasked. "Look at Randall's hair!" she giggled even harder, and Hershel couldn't help but chuckle at that as well. At least, until Mary turned to him. "It's just like how your's was back in Stansbury!" she giggled more. Hershel blushed slightly, hiding his eyes beneath the brim of his hat.
"Yes, well…" he muttered, unsure of what to say. Mary giggled when she noticed his cheeks were a slight shade of pink, but she put the picture back in it's place all the same. "Is the young boy in the blue hat that apprentice you told me about?" she asked, noticing more pictures of him. "Clark and Brenda's son, right?"
"Yes. That's Luke," the professor said with a fond smile. Mary smiled warmly, remembering how Clark and Brenda had been back in college. She spotted a picture of them together with Luke, and shook her head.
"There's a couple that was always fated together," she said softly.
"Met in their first year of college and had been together ever since," Hershel added with a warm smile. "I remember Clark talking about her late into the night, despite my protests that I had an exam the next day," he added with a chuckle. Mary laughed at that, shaking her head.
"I can only imagine," she said, turning to him. While they had been talking, Hershel had unconsciously moved closer to study the pictures as well. Mary blushed when noticing how close they were, looking up at Hershel. Hershel glanced down at her and noticed the lack of distance as well.
"Ah! I apologize," he quickly said, stepping back half a step. Mary felt slight disappointment rise in her chest, but didn't argue. Instead, she smiled.
"It's okay," she said, looking back at the pictures. She noticed older ones, ones that included Claire, and sighed almost silently.
She never wanted to admit it, but even back in Stansbury, she had always had a crush on Hershel Layton. He was smart and well spoken, and a loyal friend, almost to a fault. Having worked in the Ascot household alongside her brother, she had seen it all the time. That's why she was so shy of him.
After Randall's supposed death, it had shattered her heart to see how… broken Hershel was. How much of a shell of his old self he had become. When she met him again at Gressensheller, about four years later, she was happy to see him back to his old self, surrounded by friends, and even a girlfriend (even if she was slightly jealous about that).
And now, he was a distinguished archeology professor and puzzle master, famous for solving impossible mysteries and making huge archeological discoveries. He had the responsibilities of fatherhood on his shoulders now, and carried those responsibilities admirably.
But… and Mary could see this… he was lonely. His closest friends lived in either Monte d'Or, or across the ocean in America.
And... he was still in love with Claire, who had died ten years previously. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know how. Especially since he seemed to be trying to distance himself from any kind of intimate relationship.
"Mary? Are you alright?" Hershel asked, and she jumped slightly, only just realizing she had been staring at him in silence for the past ten minutes.
"Ah, yes. Sorry," she said with a smile. Hershel smiled back, and Mary turned her attention to his bookshelf.
…
On the stairs, Flora smiled to herself. She had been spying on the couple for the past twenty minutes, and she could see the professor had feelings for Mary, but was trying to distance himself from her.
She had a plan.
…
"Professor?" Flora asked, walking over to the man as he worked at his desk in his office, her voice subdued.
"Yes, my dear?" he asked, looking up from his magnifying glass. Flora had an uncomfortable look on her face, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
"I… I don't think I can go to the opera tonight…" she muttered. It had been a few days since Mary had been over for dinner, and while Flora knew the two talked at school and everything, she knew they needed a little push.
The show Janice Quatlane invited Flora and the professor to seemed like the perfect push.
"Oh? What's wrong, my dear?" the professor asked, turning his chair to face her. Flora grimaced slightly.
"Just an upset stomach, Professor. I'll make myself some tea," she replied, making her way over to his tea set. The professor watched after her.
"Would you like me to stay home tonight?" he asked.
"Hm?" She looked up. "Oh… oh, no, professor. Don't waste the tickets," Flora pleaded. "Why don't you take a friend along in my stead? Like Miss. Ledore?" she suggested. The professor sighed worriedly, watching her. Flora pouted. "Please, Professor? I would feel dreadful if I knew I was the reason those tickets were wasted…" she added. The professor shook her head slightly.
"Alright," he sighed softly. Flora smiled, making sure to keep it weak, and returned to the tea. Once she drained the cup and reassured the professor that she was okay, she made her way back to the professor's flat.
Professor Layton finished his work and checked his watch, noticing he still had two hours before the show.
"Well, a true gentleman always gives a lady plenty of warning…" he sighed, before stopping, thinking over how… insistent Flora had been earlier about his inviting Mary Ledore.
He shook his head, deciding to talk to her later about it as he made his way to Mary's temporary office.
"Entrar!" Mary called from inside at his knock. The professor smiled, easily able to translate that particular Spanish word.
"Hello, Mary," the professor said as he walked in, quietly closing the door behind himself. Mary looked up from her typewriter and smiled warmly.
"Ah, Hershel! Hola! How are you today?" she asked, resting back in her chair and motioning for him to sit. He took the chair with a smile.
"I'm good. Yourself?" he asked.
"Good," she said with a bright smile. "I've gotten far in my paper." She glanced at the typewriter happily, before looking at the professor. "Actually… would you… mind reading it once I'm done? I would love for you to proof read it," she asked. Hershel chuckled.
"Of course I will," he said, before leaning towards the woman slightly. "Although I hope I can pull you away from your work for the night," he added.
"Oh? What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"A former student of mine sent me tickets to an Opera that she's starring in, but Flora is feeling under the weather. Would you join me?" the professor invited. Mary smiled warmly.
"Sure," she said, before looking down at the blouse and trousers she was wearing. She giggled at herself. "I guess I should go home and get ready! What time is the show?" she asked.
"It's at seven. I'll pick you up at six-thirty?" he offered. Mary smiled at that, standing and pulling her coat on.
"Alright. I'll see you then," she said as Hershel stood as well, stepping out of the office with her. She locked the door behind them, kissed the professor on the cheek, and rushed off. Hershel brushed his fingers across his cheek again, trying to figure out the emotions rolling through him, before hurrying to his own home to get ready.
…
At six-fifteen, Hershel pulled up in front of the University owned flat, dressed in a black and white suit and his ever present top hat. His orange tie matched the brim of the hat perfectly. He opened the car door and stepped out, straightening his jacket and walking up to the front door.
"Viniendo!" Mary called from inside in response to his knock. Hershel tipped his head to the side, wondering what that particular word meant, when the door opened.
Mary stood in the doorway, dressed in a slim, deep blue gown, her long, brown hair pulled up in an elegant bun, pinned back with crystal pins. A matching crystal necklace and bracelet graced her collarbone and wrist.
"Hello, Hershel," she said warmly. Hershel smiled, finally finding his voice.
"Hello, Mary. You look… beautiful," he said. Mary smiled, blushing.
"Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself," she said with a small giggle. Hershel smiled slightly at that, offering his arm and leading her to the Laytonmobile. The two quickly made it to the theatre and to their seats. The Opera was a love story, with Janice Quatlane acting as the lead female. The Professor smiled, enjoying the show. Mary smiled as well, resting her head against his shoulder halfway through the show, surprising the man. He glanced down at her, and she smiled up at him before returning her attention to the show, keeping her head on his shoulder. He smiled slightly at that, returning his own attention to the show.
…
"Thank you for inviting me," Mary said as Hershel walked her to her door. "The show was amazing, and the dinner afterwards was good as well."
"Thank you for coming, Mary. I'm sorry it was so last minute," Hershel said. Mary chuckled at that, waving it away.
"Don't worry about it. I'm just lucky Angela sent me the dress, just in case I went to a show or anything," she replied. Hershel chuckled.
"Angela knew what she was doing. That color looks good on you," he said. Mary giggled, blushing as she stopped, turning to face him on the stoop to her flat. Hershel smiled warmly at her.
"We will do this again… right?" she asked.
"What do you mean, my dear?" Hershel asked.
"Go out together like this. That… kind of stopped once we returned to London," Mary admitted, looking away.
"Ah. I'm sorry, Mary. I guess I just assumed you were so busy," Hershel said. Mary looked up at him, studying his eyes.
"I'm never too busy to go out with you, Hershel," she said, moving a little closer to him. Hershel, surprised, didn't move away. "I… well, I guess what I'm trying to say… is that I really like you," she admitted, before stretching up, gently pressing her lips against his.
Fire surged through Hershel Layton. The last time a woman's lips had touched his was right before Claire returned to her own time, just in time to die.
This felt wrong. His hands tensed on Mary's shoulders to gently push her away.
And yet… he couldn't. His eyes drifted close, and he kissed her back.
This felt wrong. Yet… it felt right. The fire surging through him wasn't unpleasant. In fact, he was quite enjoying himself.
Finally, and yet, too soon, Mary pulled back from the professor.
"Good night, Hershel," she said, before entering her flat.
"Good night… Mary," Hershel muttered to the closing door. He stood there for a moment longer before returning to the Laytonmobile and driving home.
Flora, thankfully, was already in bed by the time the professor arrived home. He quietly entered the flat, undoing the buttons of the suit jacket and waistcoat. He loosened the tie as he made his way to his home study, where he sat at his desk. A picture of Claire smiled up at him, and he sighed, carefully taking off his top-hat and placing it on the desk in front of him.
His lips were still on fire. He gently stroked the silk of his top-hat, his thoughts going between Claire and Mary. He had begun to realize it in the last few days on the ship, but he had stifled it.
Mary was just so intelligent and witty. She was so full of passion and adventure.
In short, Hershel Layton was falling in love for the second time in his life.
And he was very confused.
Suddenly, the phone that was perched on his desk caught his attention. He loathed talking on the phone, much preferring the intimacy of letter writing, but he needed someone to talk to right now. He picked up the receiver, his hand hovering over the numbers. His first thought was to call Randall. After all, he was his best friend, the one who knew him the longest.
But Randall never met Claire. In fact, he didn't even know of her yet (Hershel never did have the heart to tell Randall about her). And Randall would be biased when it came to Mary. That left one other person. A smile danced across Hershel's face as he dialed the number.
It rang a few times before someone answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Clark," Hershel said with a tiny smile.
"Hershel? Hello! Is everything okay?" he asked.
"Yes. Well… sort of," Hershel sighed, unsure of how to explain his confusing emotions.
"Sort of? Hershel, what's going on? I mean, you never call…"
"This was something I needed to talk about right away," Hershel explained, pulling off the suit jacket before leaning back. "You see… well… there's this... this woman," Hershel explained. There was a soft gasp from the other end of the line.
"Hershel Layton is calling me about a woman? Who is this mysterious woman?" Clark asked with some amusement.
"Remember Mary Ledore from Gressensheller? She was about four years behind us," Hershel explained.
"Ah, yes. The Cultural Anthropologist, right?"
"Yes. I ran into her on the ship on the way home," Hershel said, before explaining everything. Clark listened quietly the entire time, knowing Hershel needed not just an earpiece, but advice as well. Finally, Hershel got to the kiss tonight.
"Wow," Clark commented once the story was done.
"Yeah," Hershel sighed.
"Honestly, Hershel, I think you should go for it," Clark said.
"You… do?" Hershel asked, surprised.
"Yes. Claire would want you to be happy, Hershel. And while I know you're still madly in love with her… it sounds like you have this amazing woman right in front of you, wanting to get to know you more. I think… it's time to move on. Claire would want you to do this," Clark said, sounding hesitant at first. Hershel was silent, studying the picture Claire that smiled back at him. A few minutes went past in silence. "Hershel…?" Clark asked.
"I'm still here, Clark," Hershel muttered, tearing his eyes away from the picture of Claire. "I just… don't know if I can easily move on from… well…"
"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Hershel. I know that. And… really, after what happened recently, I know old wounds have been opened. But you should at least try. It sounds like Mary really wants you to, and… deep down, I know you want to as well. After all, you said yourself that you have feelings for this woman."
"But Clark—"
"I'm not saying forget Claire. Never forget her, Hershel. Continue wearing that hat. Keep the pictures. But… don't let losing her block you from happiness. I know you're lonely. I could see it in the way you watched me with Brenda, or how you watched Phoenix and Maya together. Even in how you talked about Randall and Angela…"
"You… you're right," Hershel finally sighed, rubbing his face. "Perfectly right. Claire wouldn't want me to be unhappy. Besides, she really liked Mary when she met her. I think… I think I'll give this a try," he said.
"Perfect!" Clark said happily. "Brenda and Luke will be ecstatic to hear that."
"If I'm not mistaken, Luke might already have an idea," Hershel said, remembering how Flora faked the stomachache earlier, and her behavior the night Mary came over for dinner. "Flora might have sent him a letter not too long ago…"
"Now that you mention it, I did see something in the mail for Luke, from Flora, yesterday. And Luke was practically giddy last night and this morning…" Clark mused with amusement. Hershel laughed at that, shaking his head at the two children.
"Of course…" he chuckled, before shaking his head again. "Well, it's late here, and I have an early lecture tomorrow. We will speak soon, Clark?" he asked.
"Of course. Call me and tell me how it goes, alright?"
"Of course. Have a good day, Clark," Hershel said with a smile, knowing it was only about four in the afternoon in California.
"Good night, Hershel," Clark replied, before the line went dead. Hershel smiled, hanging up the receiver before picking up his hat and carrying it to his bedroom. He stopped a few feet past Flora's door.
"Good night, Flora," he called softly. A surprised squeak came from just the other side of the door, and footsteps raced across the floor before the quick sound of blankets rustling and mattress springs creaking. Hershel chuckled softly to himself, placing the hat on his night stand and getting ready for bed.
…
The next few weeks saw Hershel jumping head first into a relationship with Mary Ledore. As the two continued to date, Hershel found he was happier than he had been in a long time. Mary herself was also incredibly happy with their relationship. Dinner dates and shows became the norm for their weekends, and lunches were spent together in each other's offices. Flora also got to know Mary much better from her coming over for dinner, or herself and the professor going to Mary's for dinner, and the two women connected over their love for reading.
The two months of paradise began to draw to a close though. One night, Mary invited just him over for dinner.
Hershel knocked on the door, adjusting the top-hat on his head when Mary answered.
"Hershel!" she said with a smile, kissing his cheek.
"Mary," he said with a warm smile, stepping in and giving her the roses he had bought for her. She took them with a warm smile.
"Oh dios mios, they're beautiful," she said warmly, smelling them. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, my dear," he said, kissing her forehead in a loving way. He then looked over her head, and froze.
The foyer was crowded with packed boxes. Just beyond, he could see that the living room walls were devoid of the pictures and maps that usually hung there.
Suddenly, he remembered that she would only be in London for about two months.
Those two months were just about up.
"Hershel…?" Mary asked, worried by the crushed look on her boyfriend's face.
"Mary… when are you leaving?" he asked, motioning to the stuff. She glanced at it before looking up at him.
"Oh. Um, next week…" she admitted quietly. Hershel nodded, forcing a smile. After all, he didn't want to keep her from her life's work.
"Well, then I guess we should make the most of this week, correct?" he asked. Mary smiled, realizing what he was trying to do, and nodded.
"Yes. Come on, dinner's already on the table," she said, leading him to the dining room. He pulled out her chair, to which she smiled and sat. He then sat as well, before noticing something sitting on the table.
"Mary, you know I don't drink wine," he said with a chuckle. Mary sighed softly.
"I know, but the University gave this to me to celebrate my success," she said, before pouting. "And there's no way I can drink all of this myself. Please, Hershel? Just this once?" she asked. Hershel looked between her and the wine.
People make bad decisions when loneliness rears its ugly head. Hershel knew this. The first time he tried alcohol was on the first year anniversary of Randall's 'death,' with Clark. The second time was the first year anniversary of Claire's death, again with Clark. Both times, Clark was there to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.
However, Mary, with whom Hershel had fallen hard for, was leaving in a week to return to an unreachable village in South America, for who knew how long.
People make bad decisions when loneliness rears its ugly head. Hershel smiled at Mary, lifting the wine glass to her. "Alright, Mary. Just this once," he said.
The third time Hershel tried alcohol was when he realized the second woman he loved would be leaving him for an indefinite amount of time.
…
The sun shining through the curtains, across his eyes, was what woke Hershel the next morning. His head pounded slightly, and his mouth felt like cotton. He moaned softly, turning his head away from the sun and burying it in Mary's hair.
His eyes suddenly snapped open, and he looked down. Mary was curled up to him, her head on his chest, wrapped securely in his arms. A blanket was wrapped tightly around them, but he could see that his own chest was bare, and Mary's shoulders and upper back were bare.
Last night's activities sprang to mind, and the professor's face turned blood red as he realized what he did. How… ungentlemanly he had been. He carefully picked up the blanket, looking down at himself, and blushed even more, dropping it again.
The movement must have woken Mary up. She shifted, burying her face more into his chest, before blinking blue eyes up at him.
"G'morning, Hershel," she said sleepily. He smiled slightly.
"Morning, Mary," he said. She smiled more, sitting up on her knees. The blanket fell to rest just around her waist, and the professor quickly looked away, his cheeks an even darker shade of red. Noticing, Mary giggled, stealing the blanket and wrapping herself in it as she stood, making her way over to her closet. Now that he was the one exposed, Hershel jumped up, grabbing his boxers and pants and yanking them on as quickly as he could.
"I have to say, I know now why you don't drink, Hershel," Mary said from where she was picking out clothes. "I didn't know all it would take would be two glasses before you began to act more like your Stansbury self." She shook her head.
"Wait, were you… trying…?" Hershel asked, looking at the bed then back at her. Mary turned, looking surprised.
"Of course not, Hershel," she said seriously. "I'd never do that on purpose. I was being honest when I said I'd never finish that bottle…"
"Ah. Sorry," he said, worried he'd offended her. She smiled slightly, pulling an outfit out and changing.
"It's alright," she said, coming over and kissing his cheek. He smiled at that, feeling a little more comfortable now that he was wearing pants. "Last night was fun though," she added, making him blush again.
…
The two enjoyed the rest of the time they had together, until finally, it came time for Mary to leave, first for Monte d'Or, then South America. The two embraced tightly.
"I can't wait until I see you again," she said softly.
"And I you, my love," he said, kissing her gently. Mary pulled herself closer, kissing him back. "Although…" he started when the two pulled apart. "If you meet someone, please, don't hesitate…" he said. She smiled at that.
"Don't worry, Hershel. I don't think you have to worry about that," she said, before sighing. "I have to go, though," she said, giving him another kiss before stepping onto the train. He watched after her, sighing as the train pulled away from the station, loneliness once again clawing away at his chest.
…
Two Months Later
Mary rushed out of her hut, a hand clamped to her mouth as she made her way to the edge of the village. She quickly made it, falling to her knees behind a tree and emptying her stomach of its contents. One of the women from her host family, who was like a sister to her, followed, holding Mary's hair back.
Mary finally stood up straight, shakily wiping a hand across her mouth.
"Are you okay, Maria?" the woman, Efrain, asked in Spanish.
"I… I think so," Mary muttered back in Spanish, putting a hand to her stomach. She still felt woozy and shaky.
"This has been going on since you've returned, every morning…" Efrain mused. Her eyes lit up, and she gently pushed Mary's hand away from her stomach, placing her own hands against it. Her eyes grew even brighter. "Maria… I think… no, I know it. You're pregnant!" she breathed excitedly. Mary's eyes widened, knowing exactly who the father was, and her heart sank.
"Oh… Hershel…" she breathed.
…
A/N: Done! And Wolfiered23 already knows what happens after this. I will post a story/sequel, don't worry. But that won't be until I finish the Flora Reinhold series…
Fun fact, Efrain means fertile.