Chapter 10: Aftermath

"Oh, Claire."

Those two words plunged into Emmy like a dagger, shattering her from the inside. A deep pain burrowed into her gut, and spread through her, as she tried to make sense of the Professor's words. The moment went from something so brilliant she couldn't find the words to describe it, to something from a really bad dream. Only this wasn't a dream.

This was reality, and she wouldn't wake up.

She pushed herself away from the Professor, who returned her look of bewilderment, mixed with shame.

"Who's Claire?"

"E-Emmy I—"

"Who is she?" Emmy stood up and felt her voice clench. The onslaught of feelings were overwhelming; her thoughts went into overdrive. One minute they were dancing. Then talking. He was worried about her. She gave him a hug. Her heart raced and she had butterflies. Then he…kissed me!

And that moment had been heaven; when he'd pressed his lips to hers, she was in shock that someone as prudent and stoic as Professor Layton had done something so...so out of the blue. She had been nervous to kiss him back, unsure if it was really happening, if it was a joke –which would be even more out of character for him.

But it had been real and wonderful, and emotion and passion had taken over from there, driving the moment forward…

And now it was still very real, with all the wonder removed. She just wanted to get out of there. Get far, far away….

"Professor, … who is she?"

"She's…," the words caught in the Professor's throat. He was struggling, struggling to say anything to her. "N-nothing, I didn't mean to..." He sat up and dipped his head, trying to in a very flustered manner to re-buckle his belt. He refused to look her in the eye.

Emmy's beating heart grew erratic. She could barely breathe. Never had she seen him at such a loss. And this lack of an explanation dug into her deeper than anything else. In that moment it felt as if the last thread holding her life together snapped. The very thread she thought untouchable….

"I-I'm going to get a drink." She surprised herself with the ability to get the words out.

And with that Emmy left the conservatory.

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Emmy wandered through the hotel's halls for the longest time trying to clear her head –she may also have gotten a little turned around and taken one or five wrong turns.

She willed herself not to cry, because she was wearing mascara and it would be all too horrifying to walk through the party with makeup running down her chin. But her feelings were so jumbled at the moment, she didn't know if she could even muster tears, or if she was sad or angry or what. She just felt lost.

She soon found herself at the refreshment table, the side by the bar to be exact. The area was a crowded one, mostly men trying to escape their dates, all more than happy for free drinks. Emmy downed her shot –which she found to be horrible diluted—, and pushed the glace towards the bartender.

"I'll take another," she said and slumped in the chair.

Why had the Professor refused to say anything about Claire? She obviously meant something to the man. He kept her photo in his sock drawer. He dreamed about her. He said her bloody name while we were about to….

Emmy threw back the second shot. "Dammit," she muttered. Why did he have to kiss her? Why did she let him? And worst of all, why didn't she just leave it at that?

Admittedly she'd thought about the Professor in that way before. Mainly in the first few weeks of her becoming his assistant as she was still in the awestruck fan-girl stage to be working with someone like him. She supposed she flirted from time to time in her teasing; that was just Emmy's nature, she'd always been a tease. And dancing had been so magical. And the kiss too good for words. But never in a thousand years did she think he would….

Emmy groaned and nodded to the man behind the counter to refill her glace. This night was a disaster. How was she going to approach him after this? How were they ever going to find the thief, and figure out the strange dreams without everything being awkward between them? And even after that…how were things going to go back to normal?

Don't be stupid, Emmy told herself. Nothing will ever be normal with him again.

Would she have to leave her job as his assistant? Surely she couldn't remain in the position if there was conflict with her boss. What would she do without the Professor...and Luke for that matter? They were like family to her. She couldn't lose them too.

And just when Emmy thought it couldn't get any worse, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Well, you clean up nicely Altava."

Emmy spun around to find herself face with Audrey Mildrew. She was in a simple black dress, but looked very sharp nonetheless. Emmy glared at her. Seriously? What great power have I pissed off to deserve this?

"Mildrew, I thought you weren't coming," she turned around, and put on the most bored voice she could, silently cursing every deity she could think of.

The blonde smiled and took the seat beside her. "A single lady can have her fun. Besides, this is the Barthalul ball, and I am the leader of the expedition. It's only right of me to show up…. Speaking of which, how are you enjoying Hershel?"

"He's wonderful," Emmy took another drink and slammed the glace on the counter. Just perfect, I needed bloody salt rubbed in the wound. "He's getting some air at the moment, but he's wonderful… Top me off please!"

"I didn't take you for the heavy drinker," Mildrew propped an elbow on the counter and waved down a bartender to fetch her a drink.

"I didn't take you for the minor chit-chat type."

"I'd watch it. You've downed three…make that four, shots in under ten minutes."

"Why do you care? They're watered down," Emmy grumbled, pushing away her emptied shot glace. "You'll need to drink a hell of a lot to feel anything."

Mildrew threw back her own shot and made a face. "Ech! No wonder the booze is free. It's slightly alcohol flavoured water. Just enough to keep guests happy I suppose, and the bartenders don't even have to watch who they cut off –no one's ever going to get a buzz off this."

"Are you going to criticize or indulge?"

"In what? This is cheap if you ask me. How are you drinking it?"

Emmy shrugged and twirled the glace in her hands. She wanted Mildrew to go away so badly, so she could sulk in peace, but couldn't think of any excuse. Not that she really needed one….

"Maybe it's just in your blood." Mildrew shot her a snide smile.

Emmy shot up and glared at the woman, a little taken aback. A burning sensation rose in her chest, and it wasn't the small amount of alcohol she'd consumed. "I don't know who you think you are Audrey Mildrew. But will you just lay off me, so my boss and I can solve this bloody case for you!"

Mildrew stood and sized her up. "Oh, that struck a chord did it? Well, I know very well who I am Altava, the question is who are you?"

From the corner of her eye Emmy saw that their yelling had attracted quite a crowd. All eyes were drawn on the two women circling each other. She hoped Randall and Angela were still on the dance floor away from it all, to spare them from whatever Emmy feared would come next. Just try not to make too big of a scene, she told herself.

"Do you know how desperate Mr. Coates was for the Barthalul artifacts? The lengths he was willing go to get them from me?"

"I'd watch my tongue if I were you." Dammit why'd she have to bring him up again? Emmy hadn't the patience to deal with this at the moment.

"But of course you know of the things he did. You knew very well what kind of a man Warren Coates was."

"Mildrew, I get that you're jealous but this isn't the time or the pla—"

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous? What, of you and Professor Layton? Now why would I ever have such a thought? If he knew, what would he think of you? Certainly not as a strong confident young lady," she took a step forward. "I know, and when I look at you I can't help but see a cowering little girl. And that's all you really are on the inside Altava, a coward."

"Shut it!" Emmy balled her fists, "I don't know what you think you know, or how you know it, but do not drag the Professor into it."

"Oh, Altava. You got Coates drunk enough and he'd tell you anything. Said an awful lot about you. He missed you so very much. Wanted more than anything to see his little Emmy…."

"I'm warning you Mildrew."

"He never did say much about his wife. I think he told me once that her name was Mei, pretty name. Most I ever heard was when he told me what happened the night she died. Talked about that night quite a bit actually, but only once he was completely wasted. I only ever picked up bits and pieces of it from his slurs, and from what I understand…it really was all your fault. If you had kept your mouth shut about the little bedroom fling she'd still be alive…."

Emmy found herself tongue tied. Because Mildrew was right. All her life Emmy had known this, but she never thought about it ever, how guilty she was for the Coates' tragedy, that if she had just been quiet about it all, then things might have turned out better….

"But you just had to tell her didn't you? It was too much, knowing what a lying, cheating, good-for-nothing creep he was. That your—"

"Shut up!"

"You need to hear it Altava! Oh, what, are you going to run away again? Like a little wuss…."

Emmy glared at Mildrew, trying her best not to look hurt, but knowing that the blonde had won.

"… you were his world Emmy, and you ran away. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that even after all the pain, even after you broke his heart… he still loved you to his very last breath."

Mildrew's head flew back with a sickening blow that sent the woman to the floor. She hit the floor, knocked out cold, a stream of blood gushing from her nose. A few worried onlookers rushed to her side. The rest turned to stare at Emmy in wonder.

Emmy pulled back her shaking fist. "The man knew nothing about love…" she whispered.

Her body felt too hot, her heart too fast, her breathing too light. All the faces blurred together, and arguments broke out among the crowd, ignited from the spark her punch had thrown. She ran from the scene as fast as she could, throwing off Angela's high heels, and pushing past the two bouncer policemen and into the night air.

And she continued to run, right up to the tram that would take her away. Far, far away from this horrible night.

The whole time all Emmy could think, was how everything was indeed her fault.