Notes: Written for Dalston Week 2014, based on a suggestion from Zoe for something focused on Dalston moving to Monte d'Or. Set sometime after the flashbacks shown in Miracle Mask, with heavy spoilers for that game.
Some people know exactly what they want to do with their lives from a young age, others take a while to discover their passions and there are even some who may go through life having never managed to find what it is that they want to do.
Alphonse Dalston fell so neatly into the first of these categories that others thought it was almost scary. Not only did he know, with great certainty, that when he got older he wanted to own a hotel, but he was so methodical in his intentions that many who knew him would joke about him having his whole life planned out ahead of him.
Because of this, when he reached his teenage years, he was so focused on preparing for his future that he often cut himself off from the friends he'd grown up with. Once upon a time, he would have picnics with Randall, Angela and Henry out on the fields of Stansbury, but now they'd run off to have adventures without him. Eventually he even got replaced in their circle by a newcomer called Hershel, or it felt that way to Dalston.
He tried not to let it bother him, even though Randall's constant teasing saw rise to more than a few arguments between them. He would have time for friends once he'd successfully opened his first hotel. Maybe the same friends, maybe different friends. Who could know?
And it was on those cursed thoughts that Dalston inevitably learned that he could not plan for everything.
...Randall Ascot died in a tragic accident while exploring some ancient ruins.
It would be impossible for him to keep all the same friends without one of those friends being around to keep. He didn't blame himself for what happened to Randall, that would be unreasonable when what transpired had nothing to do with Dalston, but he did silently regret that he'd let so many years slip by without staying true to the bond they'd once had. Worse still, if anything, the last conversation he'd ever had with Randall had ended them on bad terms...
At this stage he was still a teenager, however, and he wasn't above making stupid mistakes. This lesson probably should have taught him to value the friendships that remained, but it didn't. Instead it only seemed to strengthen his resolve to study more and only distanced him from the others even further. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to face them, he wasn't quite sure himself. But part of him felt that if he could achieve his goals then at least something would be okay.
Years went on. Within that time an arranged marriage between Angela and Dalston had been called off, as instead Angela had chosen to marry Henry. Dalston avoided talking to them both almost entirely after that, since any conversations they had would have been very awkward. Though it turned out he didn't have to worry much, as the newly wedded Ledores both moved away into the desert, so they could continue their search for Randall amongst the ruins where he'd last been seen.
Neither of them truly believed that Randall had died and while Dalston wanted to follow them in this belief, he knew that his studies needed to come first during this important time. So without anyone to distract him (Hershel had also moved away to London around this time and the two of them had never been close anyway), Dalston renewed his focus, over time achieving nearly all of what he'd aimed for.
The one goal that he hadn't yet reached was that of having his own hotel. Though he was in the perfect position to open one whenever he liked and in the end it just came down to settling on a location to build it.
He'd poured over many potential locations, spending days weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of each, assessing how profitable they'd probably be and also trying to decide if he would be comfortable living near those places himself. But when he was being honest with himself, there was only one place that kept coming back to him...
...Monte d'Or.
The city that had been created in the search for Randall. It was a curious thing, really. Monte d'Or had started life as simply the Reunion Inn, a small place near the site of the Akbadain ruins that Henry had set up to house those who came to help him find his old friend. As time went on and word of Henry's wealth had spread, more people came there in the hope of earning their fortune by finding the lost Stansbury boy.
While Monte d'Or was still small at the moment, it had the potential to become a much larger city. Even in such a short space of time, it was already turning into more and more of a tourist attraction - less about exploring ruins and more about exploring what the city itself had to offer.
Sensible investors were putting their money into Monte d'Or and Dalston was a sensible investor.
But more than that, he was a friend of the Ledores. Or at least he had been. Whether they still saw him as one or not was something he didn't know. Part of him hoped that they did. And even if they didn't, many of the people he'd been close to in Stansbury were living in Monte d'Or now. It was an ideal place for him to open a hotel.
So in the end that was exactly what he did. Dalston bought some land and organised the construction of a hotel that he could call his own. It might not be as grand as the Reunion Inn was growing to be, but it was his and it was everything he's wanted since he was a small child.
As well as building the hotel, Dalston also made a house for himself. This, however, he kept some distance from the centre of Monte d'Or. That way he was close enough to be able to keep an eye on his own business, but far enough away that he didn't feel as if he was part of Henry's circle. Perhaps it was damaging to think that way, but it made Dalston more comfortable.
Nevertheless, there was no way he could avoid Henry and Angela forever when he was practically on their doorstep. Angela certainly seemed to feel that way, as sometime after he arrived a letter from her turned up on his doorstep. She politely asked if it would be possible for the three of them to meet up, to talk about the old days, as well as what might have happened since they all parted ways. From what she'd written, you'd never have been able to tell that they were all alienated by a tragedy, as it sounded just like she thought of them as two old school friends wanting to meet for lunch. But Dalston assumed that she might want to put the past behind her.
He replied in writing (conscious of the fact that his own scrawl looked terrible in comparison to Angela's neat handwriting), stating that he would be glad to visit her and Henry. Between the two of them they managed to arrange a time that fitted around Henry's busy schedule.
Henry was seemingly very busy though, so it was a few weeks later before Dalston finally found himself making his way up the path towards the Ledore Mansion.
The walk was almost a daunting one. In some odd way, the house and grounds were so well-kept that it had somehow bypassed being welcoming and instead become imposing. The people who lived here were grand and wealthy. There was no way to get any other impression when approaching the building.
He knocked on the door, idly checking the back of his shoes were clean as he waited for someone to answer.
In all honesty, he'd expected to be greeted by a butler, but the man who answered the door was Henry Ledore himself. To be fair, Henry had worked as a butler when he was younger and everything about his current appearance suggested that he was still one now. If anything, he looked more like a butler now than he had done back when he worked for the Ascots – stern suit and a stern face to match it. The nervous smiles that had hung around Henry's mouth when he was younger had now been completely replaced by a quietly confident frown that was directed at Dalston.
"I'm glad to see you could make it," Henry said, although he did not look glad at all.
"Wouldn't want to let Angela down," murmured Dalston.
Henry turned away and muttered, "Follow me."
The corridor Dalston was led down looked a bit more homely than the outside of the mansion suggested, but in an almost forced way. It felt that the umbrella stand and the coat rack were organised the way they were more because someone had decided that's how they should look than because they were constantly being used.
They ended up in a living room that had much the same sort of feel, but he didn't have too much time to dwell on this fact, as Angela was already waiting for them. She had been sat on one of the chairs, but got to her feet as the two of them arrived, extending her arms and smiling warmly.
"Alphonse, welcome," she greeted, "I hope that Henry wasn't too sullen with you as he let you in."
"Henry is... Henry," Dalston dismissed, which seemed to be the right answer, judging from Henry's expression, "But never mind that. How have the two of you been since you left Stansbury?"
"We've been keeping ourselves busy," replied Angela.
It seemed Henry was keen to continue keeping himself busy, as he walked off to fetch a tea set from the side, motioning for Dalston to sit down as he did. Taking his cue, Dalston gingerly took a seat on one of the sofas, Angela returning to the chair she'd previously been sat on.
"So I've heard," he commented, "Word spread pretty fast about the reward you were offering for finding Randall."
"These days we prefer to keep that on a strictly need-to-know basis," Henry assured him, his tone sharp, "Perhaps we were too hasty in voicing our needs during those early days, as we attracted much interest from those who were more concerned with our fortune than helping us. Though, on the other hand, Monte d'Or would never have become as prosperous as it is without their attention."
"It certainly has become well-known in business circles. Admittedly that's part of the reason I chose to open a hotel here," Dalston agreed.
"Yes, well I knew it wouldn't be because you wanted to help look for Master Randall," shot Henry.
Angela gasped, "Henry, please!"
"I'm sorry, Angela..." muttered Henry, "...Do you still take your tea black, Mr. Dalston?"
Deciding it was best not to chase that other line of conversation, Dalston answered, "Yes, with two sugars. And just 'Dalston' will be fine."
"Little has changed then," concluded Henry, spooning the sugars into the cup and passing it along to Dalston.
"Please forgive him. Henry is... very passionate about Randall," Angela apologised, taking another cup that Henry had offered to her.
"I'd have to say not much has changed there either," mumbled Dalston.
"All of our lives were affected when Randall left us, but I didn't invite you over to talk about that," Angela continued, "Instead, I want to say that I hope the three of us can build a new friendship here. As you may already know, many of Stanbury's former residents have settled in Monte d'Or, wanting to escape from the ghost town Stansbury became after the... the loss. It's been been a new start for most and I'd like for us to start on good terms as well."
She smiled across at him and he gave her a little smile in return. For a brief moment they might as well have been kids again, sharing picnics on a warm summer's day. But that moment was cut short by Henry stepping between them and sitting down on the sofa, purposely at a bit of a distance from Dalston.
"Didn't realise we were ever on bad terms," Dalston answered, snapping back to reality.
Angela looked down into her tea cup; "I just thought that... after the arranged marriage fell apart..."
Dalston held up a hand to stop her right there.
"You never wanted to marry me. I know that. You always had eyes only for Randall when we were younger and if you've now realised that Henry's the one you love then I'm happy for you both," he assured.
The two of them looked a little awkward at the suggestion that they love each other, which was definitely strange for a husband and wife, but Dalston knew it wouldn't be a good idea to press too far into their private business.
"I'm glad you see it that way," Angela responded, after a pause that was a bit too long.
"It seems that with age does come maturity," Henry agreed, it was a thinly-veiled insult and Dalston gritted his teeth to ignore it, "But I must ask if we have much more to discuss here, Angela? While I don't want to appear rude, I have a lot of work to be getting on with."
"Don't let us keep you," grumbled Dalston.
"I'm sure we'll be just fine if you want to head off," Angela soothed, sensing that tensions were flaring up again, "I can see Alphonse out once we're finished talking."
"If you say so..." Henry replied, clearly defeated, "With that, I'll bid my leave. Dalston, it has been... a pleasure to catch up with you and I'm sure your hotel will bring further prosperity to our city."
He got up from the sofa, leaving so quickly that even Angela didn't have a chance to say goodbye. They both listened quietly as he walked down the corridor and it was almost a full minute after the front door hand closed behind him before Angela spoke again.
"He has an office at the Reunion Inn, most of his work is done there," she explained, her tone apologetic.
"I can imagine he's away a lot," Dalston commented, but he didn't want to dwell on Henry right now, "So what do you do with your time, Angela?"
She hesitated, and then answered, "I keep myself busy. Henry takes on so much, both at work and here, that I like to do what I can to make life as easy for the both of us as possible."
"Must get kind of boring," murmured Dalston, without thinking. When he realised what he'd said he quickly went to correct himself, "W-what I mean is that... um..."
There was no need though, as Angela was laughing good-naturedly at his slip up.
"Don't worry about it," she dismissed, "You're right, it does get a bit dull around here. But that's all part of growing up, isn't it? Back when we were kids, you couldn't grow up fast enough, if I remember right. At the time I was too enchanted by Randall's tales of adventure to even think about such a thing, but time has it's own method of letting these matters catch up with you."
"Sometimes I worry that we had to grow up too fast," Dalston admitted, feeling a weight off his chest to say it out-loud.
"That doesn't sound like the Alphonse Dalston I knew," Angela scolded, "What happened to all that planning out the rest of your life?"
"There are some things you can't plan for. And if I've learned anything from getting older that's it," he countered.
Once again, without really meaning for it to, the conversation had seemed to move back to the loss of Randall. They both awkwardly avoided eye-contact, knowing this to be the case. Maybe the three of them were doomed to never fully be able to avoid thinking of him.
"I think... he'd just laugh at us if he knew we were sat around here moping after him," said Angela, "Henry's never once moped, but then his own life is so very focused on plans now as well. His drive to find Randall is what gives me hope. And I know... the two of you have never really gotten along, but I think he's glad you've come here to wait for Randall with us."
"I never said anything about waiting for Randall," Dalston argued.
"But then why else would you come here of all places?" Angela reasoned, "And don't say it's because Monte d'Or is profitable. You could make money anywhere you choose, knowing you."
"Maybe I wanted to be close to friends..." he whispered.
Angela smiled warmly.
"And you are," she promised, "We can at least plan to all stay together from now on, can we not?"
"Yeah, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Henry I said so. Don't want him thinking that I'm getting all soft," Dalston stubbornly insisted.
"Your secret's safe with me," giggled Angela, shaking her head at him.
Somehow, having shared these thoughts with Angela made Dalston feel a lot more comfortable about everything. He had always been so methodical that the prospect of not being able to plan for something scared him, even after he'd come to realise that this was just part of life. But the one thing he'd never been able to plan for, his friendships with the Ledores, was turning out to be going not as badly as he'd expected. And that was a nice feeling to end the day on.
The rest of the afternoon went with much idle talk of times gone by and how exciting Monte d'Or's future as a developing town was for Angela. There were a few times when conversation turned to Randall again, but the more they talked, the easier to became to sway away from that before the awkward silences descended. Henry didn't return for the rest of the day, but Dalston quietly felt that he didn't mind him not being there.
By the time Dalston realised he should be getting home it was already turning dark and the cold chill of the desert evening was setting in. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the weather here yet, but he tried to ignore it, waving Angela goodbye from the doorstep.
"See you around then," he chimed.
"Yes, take care," Angela replied, "And don't worry, you'll get used to it."
"The weather?" Dalston asked, wondering if he did look as cold as he felt.
"That as well, but I meant Monte d'Or. It takes time, but you'll come to like it. Or, at least, I did," she clarified.
"And I'm sure I will as well," Dalston assured her, "Well... good night."
"Night, Alphonse."
He turned and headed off down the path, aware that she was watching him leave. It was a bit of a walk between the Ledore Mansion and his house, but a walk he felt he could definitely get used to just as much as he wanted to get used to Monte d'Or.
And if the three of them spent the rest of their days waiting here for Randall, well, those were plans he could get behind as well.