A/N: Another chapter! I know I said every other day, but it might be faster now that I have an outline and all my research out of the way…
ONWARD!
…
Chapter Eleven – Gregory Kingston
Unknown Location
Clark carefully moved the candle closer to the book he was reading, trying to take some of the strain off his eyes. He'd been in this cave for a week and a half now, perpetually crouched over at the desk supplied to him, reading books and papers and studying photographs.
"Clark," the soft voice of his wife, Brenda, penetrated the fog of research in his mind like a ray of sunshine.
"Yes?" he asked, finally looking up and rubbing his tired eyes.
"You've barely eaten or slept in days," she said, coming closer now that she had his attention. Clark sighed, looking at the tray in her hands. On top was a questionable piece of meat – chicken, perhaps? – bread, cheese, and a glass of water. She balanced it on her hand and moved the book in front of him, replacing it with the tray.
"I haven't been hungry," he mumbled. Brenda studied her husband, on the verge of tears.
They'd been taken from their home, half-asleep and blindfolded, and with no idea what happened to Luke.
On the way here, they heard their captures saying that he escaped. They sent people after him, but his sled went off a cliff.
The only way they were able to continue forward was because they knew Luke was smart. He spent years with Professor Layton, watched, and even helped him build life-saving machines under pressure, and he probably did the same in this situation.
Hopefully.
"Clark," Brenda said softly, her voice breaking. The man quickly looked up at her, saw her eyes swimming with tears and knew, instinctually, the only way to make her feel better, even a little, was to take care of himself. He picked up the glass of water and sipped before breaking the bread into chunks, eating slowly.
His instincts were right. Brenda took a deep breath, the tears fading, for now, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"It's not tea, but it'll do," Clark said softly, earning the weakest giggle he ever heard from his wife. She then sighed.
"I hope Luke is okay," she said softly. Clark nodded in agreement.
"As do I."
Brenda didn't respond for a bit, and Clark began to wonder if she fell asleep, when she suddenly reached forward, taking the book he'd been reading, and scanning the page.
"The Imperial Maze Stone?" she asked.
"Yes. They want me to research that, the San Diego one, and the Orange County one," Clark explained, picking at the surprisingly dry meat before moving on to the cheese, wishing he had the forethought to eat it with the bread.
"I wonder why," Brenda said softly.
"I don't know," he sighed.
"Because each of the Maze Stones hold a secret. A secret we do not know, but would like to understand," a voice said from the entrance. The married couple quickly looked over to find a large, tall man, almost seven foot tall and shrouded in a cloak as black as the night sky. A dark hat with a wide brim threw his face into shadow, and the three meager candles they had in the room didn't help to alleviate the shadows at all.
Neither of the caves occupants moved or spoke. They didn't know what this man, this phantom wanted, and doing nothing until they were told was the smartest option open to them.
"Stand up," he commanded. Both did, watching with weary eyes. Suddenly, Clark was grabbed from behind, his arms pinned behind his back. A blindfold suddenly covered his eyes.
"Wh-what are you doing!?" Brenda cried, watching her husband struggle with the man behind him. In that instant, she was grabbed, a little more gently, as well. Her surprised gasp alerted Clark to this.
"Brenda!?" he cried.
"Peace, Dr. Triton. You both will not be harmed. We are simply moving you and your research," the first voice said.
"We will… still be together, right?" Brenda asked, her voice shaking.
"Of course. You're care is keeping him alive and healthy enough to continue your research, and Dr. Triton is, of course, valuable to us."
"Why the blindfolds?" Clark asked as they were propelled forward.
"If you were to escape your cells, we can't have you knowing the layout of the caves, can we?" the phantom responded. Clark fell silent. It did, after all, make sense.
Blinded as he was and unable to study their surroundings, Clark began to count the steps they were taking. About 348 steps later, they were stopped, and a soft grating sound filled the air.
"We bought you help," the phantom said. Brenda and Clark were propelled inside, and the blindfolds were suddenly pulled off.
This cave looked no different from their first one, except instead of one desk and two cots, there were two desks and three cots. At one desk sat a man. The candle next to him revealed a sharply angled face, deep set eyes and a narrow, straight nose with a pair of cracked glasses perched on the bridge. His hair, a light color, hung limply to his sharp chin, and his dirty, ripped clothes showed sweat, grease, and, alarmingly enough, a blood stain on his side. They were, like Clark's and Brenda's, a set of pajamas.
"Dr. Triton, Mrs. Triton, this is Dr. Kingston. We decided that your two brilliant minds would work better together then alone. And Mrs. Triton will make sure you both are taken care of," the phantom explained, looking between the three.
"Well, good luck!" Suddenly, each phantom, for there must have been at least five of them, vanished, leaving the prisoners to study each other. Finally, Dr. Kingston stood and walked over to them, holding his hand out.
"Dr. Gregory Kingston. Please, just call me Greg," he said. Clark smiled weakly, shaking his hand.
"Dr. Clark Triton. This is my wife, Brenda," he said.
"And you can just call us by our first names as well," Brenda added.
"I guess we should start, huh?" Greg asked. Clark nodded, walking over to the second desk. All of his research and notes sat there in a box, and he couldn't help but wonder how they got it all packed up so quickly.
Brenda, while those two studied, made sure the blankets sitting on the cots would be warm enough and that the pillows would be thick enough. Tonight, she resolved, she would get both men to stop working in order to eat, then get some sleep. Greg had the same bags, if not worse, under his eyes that Clark had, meaning he wasn't sleeping that well either.
…
Three bowls of thick, hot stew was delivered to the cell, the best food any of them had received since being there. Not letting this go to waste, Brenda managed to pull both away from their work and over to the cots, which she had arranged into a circle, surrounding a candle. The men groaned about how much work they had, but didn't put up much more of a fight when the bowls of stew were placed in their hands.
"So, you were my replacement," Greg suddenly said after a few moments of silently enjoying their strew. Clark looked up and nodded.
"Yes."
"So why'd you take the job after I disappeared?"
"We didn't know that. The museum told us that you just suddenly quit, and that's all the Feys knew as well," Brenda explained. Greg nodded.
"That makes more sense," he sighed, sipping more of the stew.
"So, did you work for the museum?" Clark asked. Greg shook his head.
"No. I was a professor at Nodir University, on Sabbatical to study the stone." He sighed. "I don't even know how long I've been here anymore," he admitted. "I was just taken from the house one night."
"So were we. Thankfully, our son managed to escape," Clark explained. Brenda sighed once more at the thought of Luke.
"Your son? Hopefully he saw something. If he went to the police, and could give a witness testimony," Greg said, hope entering his tired voice. Clark and Brenda glanced at each other, remembering hearing the men say that he went over the cliff.
"Hopefully he's able to," Clark finally said. Brenda looked away, covering her mouth and fighting back tears. Greg noticed but didn't comment on it.
"So, what do they have you studying?" Clark finally asked.
"The Hemet and Kurain stones," Greg answered before slurping the rest of the stew. Clark smiled slightly at that. "You?" Greg asked once finally done, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Imperial, San Diego, and Orange," Clark responded, doing the same with his own stew. He wasn't that hungry, not by a long-shot, but he knew that Brenda would feel better knowing he ate the full bowl of stew.
"I guess it's back to the research, huh? Greg asked once Clark was finished as well.
"Yeah," Clark sighed. Brenda stood, walking in front of the two, her hands on her hips.
"No. Now it's bed time," he said.
"But—" Clark began. Brenda shook her head, her voice softening.
"No, Clark. Both of you need sleep. If you're too tired, you wont be able to research anything at all," she said. The men, realizing she was, laid down on their cots, thinking of the work that they could only wake up to.
…
A/N: And another chapter out! You all HAD to know Dr. Kingston would be coming in sometime. He's just too important a character to the plot to NOT come into the story on purpose.
Well, I think it's bed time for me (1:15am), so… good night!
