Elizabeth knew that Laszlo had sent Cyrus to follow her and ensure no harm came to her. The man had been behind her, almost pretending to loiter in the shadows, but failing miserably. But Elizabeth did not pay him any heed. Instead, her mind was still on Laszlo. How could he have even said those things to her? How could he act so intolerably towards her? She had done nothing to deserve his snide comments and harsh tongue.

She huffed loudly before realising that night was soon falling and she had to return home. She had walked the streets, ignoring anyone she passed by as her mind returned back to the house where Laszlo currently resided. Turning around on her heel, she began to walk back and saw Cyrus following her.

"You do not need to follow me anymore, Cyrus," she said to him and he inclined his head gently. "I know that he sent you after me."

"He cares, Miss Elizabeth," Cyrus said to her, falling into step besides her. "He wouldn't have sent me out here if he didn't care about you."

Elizabeth scoffed. "He has a funny way of showing it," she hissed, folding her arms over her stomach and feeling the chill of the evening air. Her hair blew around her shoulders in soft waves as she did her best to comprehend what she would find when she returned back home. Would Laszlo apologise? Would he even bother to talk to her? She had no idea.

"He…he does care," he reiterated to her. "You know that. Otherwise he wouldn't have sent me after you, Miss Elizabeth."

"It's just Elizabeth," she responded to him. "You know that I'm just the same as you, Cyrus."

Cyrus chuckled at hearing her say that and he shook his head back and forth. "No, you're not," he responded to her. "We work for Doctor Kreizler and he treats us well. You, on the other hand, aren't a member of his staff…you're different…and you know that."

Elizabeth shrugged and Cyrus saw her stick her bottom lip out over her top one, looking away and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her effort was futile as the locks blew back into her face with the wind and Cyrus noted the red tinge on her cheeks. She looked angry. She looked upset. He sighed for a moment before speaking.

"Doctor Kreizler is a clever man," Cyrus said to her. "But he sometimes isn't that intelligent when it comes to…matters of the heart, shall we say."

"What do you mean?" she wondered, looking up at him and wishing that she had brought a scarf or something to keep her neck warm. It was turning particularly cold and she knew that winter was fully approaching.

"We heard you in the carriage and what he said," Cyrus said. "He was jealous that you were flirting with another man."

"I was not flirting!" Elizabeth snapped loudly. "I was simply being pleasant to the man and that was all there was to it. And, even if I was flirting, he should not talk to me how he did."

"Perhaps not," Cyrus agreed with her. "But he was jealous."

He nose wrinkled. "Why would he be jealous?" she questioned. "He has no reason to be jealous. I…he is so clever…handsome…any woman would want to be with him. Me, on the other hand…well…I come with a reputation. I come with a lot of emotional issues."

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders. "Say what you like, but he cares. He cares very deeply for you."

"Perhaps so, but he had no reason to be so cruel," Elizabeth responded, shaking her head back and forth. Cyrus held his arm out to her, seeing that she was struggling with her emotions, her face contorting and tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. She took hold of his arm and Cyrus smiled down to her as she glanced up to him. "Cyrus…can you provide a distraction of some kind? I do not think that I can face Laszlo tonight."

"Of course," Cyrus promised her. "But don't tell him anything of what I just said, alright? It's between us. Doctor Kreizler is a private man when it comes to his own thoughts."

"I won't," Elizabeth assured him.

"Then I'll give you that distraction you want."

….

Laszlo was working the following day after having visited the morgue to enquire about other boys who might have been discovered with their tongue removed. He had a day filled with appointments, but one seemed to strike a nerve with him. A twelve-year-old had been brought to him by her mother, claiming that there had to be something wrong with her mind. She claimed that she was touching herself between her legs every night. The woman had reminded Laszlo of Elizabeth's mother when she had brought Sally to him.

He had told her the exact same thing that he was about to tell Mrs Rajk. He had told her that it was simply her becoming a young woman. She had urges. Of course, she had urges. Children became women and women felt lust. Laszlo had always found it fascinating that men were allowed to follow their lust. But for women, it was frowned upon.

And then the priest had dared to question him. The priest Mrs Rajk had brought with her had claimed that Laszlo was not a man who followed God. And Laszlo had demanded for him to leave. Laszlo's mood was incredibly volatile as things stood, having found out the night before that Elizabeth had returned home via the back door and snuck up the staircase to her bedroom. She had locked the door and had still been in there when he had gone to work the following morning.

Cyrus had come to him the night before and told him that she was fine, keeping him in the parlour as she scurried up the steps. Laszlo knew that he had to talk to her sooner or later. He owed her an apology. He knew that he owed her an apology. He had overstepped the mark, but he had been angry. He had been angry that she had placed herself in danger. He had been angry that she had even entertained the Isaacson twin. But he had been wrong to direct his anger towards her.

He had returned home that evening, determined to talk to her. But he found that he already had guests waiting. John was sat on the couch next to Elizabeth who had a book in her lap. She was dressed in a simple blue dress, the material flowing down to her feet and the sleeves long. It came up to her neck, the collar accentuating her slender limb. And then Sara was sat in the armchair that Laszlo usually occupied, a tray of tea on the table between them.

"And Elizabeth insisted on me scrapping the drawing and starting again," Laszlo could hear John's voice enter his ears.

"It was hardly accurate," Elizabeth declared. "And I did not want it either."

"Why ever not?" Sara questioned.

"Let us just say that my husband was not exactly a man I wanted to be associated with."

"He died, didn't he?" Sara asked.

There was silence then and Laszlo stepped into the room, having removed his coat and hat. He left his cane by the doorway and moved further into the space. Elizabeth stood up as soon as she saw him, pursing her lips. "I should leave you to it," she declared, voice suddenly haughty and tense as she left her book on the arm of the couch.

"Were you not interested in the case?" John wondered from her.

"I have things I need to do," was all that she offered him.

Laszlo said nothing as she brushed by him, not once making eye contact or acknowledging his existence. John remained on the seat, legs folded and hands clasped on his knee. Sara sat forwards as Laszlo looked to the back of Elizabeth, noting her sweep out of the room without even looking back at him. He almost wanted to groan loudly to himself, but he kept his emotions in check, realising that she was still angry with him and he would have to do something to make it up to her. He had no idea that she was still stood around the corner, hiding away from him, but intending on listening into the conversation and whatever discovery Sara had made.

"Sara, John, what brings you both here?" Laszlo finally asked.

"There were other murdered boys," Sarah said to him.

Laszlo nodded his head, trying to bring his mind back to the case. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and walked around the parlour. "As I suspected at the morgue," he declared. "Who were they?"

"One boy's identity was unknown, but the other boy was known as Aaron Morton," Sara declared and Elizabeth's brow furrowed as she leant against the wall. She saw Mary rounding the corner and pressed a finger to her lips. The other woman looked at her with a disapproving stare, dropping her hand to her hip but Elizabeth signed to her, begging her to keep quiet. She shook her head and held her hands up, backing away as John spoke.

"I found a brief mention of him in the Herald about a month ago," he said. "He worked at a brothel called Shang Draper's and was killed just like the Santorelli boy with his body hidden on the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Then we have to examine them to see if there is a connection," Laszlo said, voice quick and determined.

"It is impossible," Sara retorted and Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "The unknown boy was taken to a morgue on Bleecker that burns the remains of anyone who is unclaimed."

"And I found no family for Aaron Morton which means that he was probably buried in Potter's Field."

"And that's not all," Sara said. "The files were both hidden. It was almost as though someone did not want them to be found."

There was silence between them then and Elizabeth tried to ensure that they couldn't hear her breathing. She was thinking, no doubt, just as they were. There was some kind of cover up. There had to be. Why else would two other bodies be hidden?

"Your information is invaluable, Miss Howard," Laszlo said and Elizabeth felt something in her stomach churn at the tone of his voice. He sounded softer, almost tender. "Is Roosevelt aware of what you've done?"

"No."

"And do you have plans tonight?" Laszlo questioned and Elizabeth's hands balled into fists by her sides.

"Yes." Sarah retorted.

"If I have a carriage sent to you at nine o'clock, can your plans be altered?" he enquired. What was he doing? Elizabeth was struggling to keep her breathing under control.

"Is that a request or a command, Doctor Kreizler?" Sara wondered.

Elizabeth heard Laszlo chuckle. It was that low chuckle she often heard whenever she said something that he found amusing. It would make her smile widely, knowing that she could bring a smile to the serious doctor's face. And now he was talking to Sara and asking her questions that sounded anything but innocent to Elizabeth.

"As you like it, Miss Howard," he answered her question.

There was silence then and Elizabeth was about to walk away before she felt a sneeze take hold of her. Clasping her hands over her mouth, she tried to hold the noise in as Laszlo asked Sara what else she had learned about the Santorelli boy. But she couldn't. She sneezed as she walked away, hearing the conversation in the parlour room drop dead at the sudden noise. Cursing under her breath at giving herself away, she headed towards her bedroom and closed the door.

Settling down on the end of the bed, she let out a deep sigh and wondered just where Laszlo intended on taking Sara that evening. What was he planning? What was going on? She didn't know and she wanted to know. Why did she want to know so desperately? Was this jealousy?

Laying back on her bed, Elizabeth let her hands rest on her stomach. Closing her eyes, she heard the voices grow louder downstairs. Sara and John were heading for the door. She heard the front door open and close before the noise of footsteps came up the stairs. Elizabeth sat up once more, tucking her hair behind her ears. The footsteps paused outside of her door and she thought that he was about to knock on the wood. She longed for him to knock.

But no noise came.

Instead, the footsteps turned around and walked down the landing back to the stairs.

Flopping back onto her bed, Elizabeth closed her eyes once more. She had no intention of making the first move. No. As far as she was concerned, Laszlo was the one who could come and apologise to her.

…

"Tell me about Miss Howard," Laszlo spoke to John as they shared a carriage that evening, dressed in their finery. John pulled out his hip flask and took a swig of whatever alcohol he had filled it with that evening.

"I'll tell you about Miss Howard when you tell me when we're going," John said to Laszlo.

"I've noticed she wears a man's signet ring," Laszlo said, ignoring John's request completely.

"Why do you take such pleasure about keeping everyone in the dark about your plans?" John enquired, screwing the lid back onto the hip flask and pushing it back into the inside pocket of his jacket. "And what was that awful tension we noticed between you and Elizabeth when you walked in?"

"Hmm?" Laszlo simply grunted, watching John with an intense stare until he cracked, letting out a deep sigh.

"The ring was her father's," he said. "He died in a hunting accident, or at least that was the official story. Sara doesn't like to talk about it. She was only twelve at the time and was sent to a sanitarium as she had lost her mother when she was quite young."

Laszlo nodded his head, but said nothing for a moment. He took his time to gather his thoughts, pondering on what it was Sara must have gone through.

"And do you have an interest in her?" Laszlo enquired from John.

"Good God, Laszlo, I've known her since she was a child," he said and reached for his hipflask once more, taking another swig of the alcohol inside.

"She is no longer a child," Laszlo retorted. "You most certainly have thought of her in that way."

"And you?" John retorted, voice terse. "If you insist on prying into my private feelings, then tell me what it was between you and Elizabeth this evening? Because what I witnessed was certainly tension."

Laszlo turned his gaze out of the carriage, hand balling into a fist and resting by his chin. He did not particularly want to discuss this with John. He had no desire to tell John what had happened between them.

"Did you upset her?" John pushed.

"Why do you assume that I was the one to upset her?" Laszlo retorted.

John shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "Because I know how you can be," John retorted. "You have a tendency to rub people up the wrong way."

"And Elizabeth doesn't?"

"Not really," John said. "So, go on, tell me what has happened?"

"Something that I should discuss with her."

"So you haven't cleared the air with her yet?"

"No." Laszlo said. He didn't want to tell John how he had stood outside of her bedroom and longed to go in and speak to her. But something had stopped him. Something had stopped him from going into her room and he didn't know what it was. He wondered if it had been fear. He wondered if he was scared of what she would say or what he might say to her. He had all of these thoughts running through his head that he didn't know how to feel.

"You need to tell her how you feel," John said to him. "Whatever you've done, I am certain it can be repaired if you simply tell her how you feel."

"I am not certain it is that simple."

"It can be if you want it to be," John said, "or do you forget that I saw the way you looked at her when she was in hospital that time?"

"I would rather not remember," Laszlo grunted and John remained silent. He could see that Laszlo was thinking. He knew that face.

Laszlo had heard the news that Elizabeth Morris had been admitted to hospital that morning. He had spent the past two months in her company after their run in at the opera. She had come to him the following day to apologise for how her husband had behaved. He had promised her that it had been fine, but she had insisted on apologising. She had insisted on coming to him and offering her sincere apologies. He had accepted them and had then sat with her and simply conversed.

Since then, she had come to him two or three times a week. She enjoyed his company and truth be told, he enjoyed her company. She was quite a charming young woman who he found to be rather entertaining. But she would show up to him with bruises marring her skin. He would see her wince as she sat down. He would notice the way she struggled to keep still when she was bruised.

And then the day had come that Laszlo had feared. He had tried to persuade her to leave her husband, telling her that there were people who could help her. But she was stubborn. She had stayed with him. And Laszlo had found himself rushing to the hospital, shocked to see John stood outside of the ward she was in.

"John," Laszlo said his name.

"Laszlo," John's brow furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Laszlo responded.

"I was due to draw Mrs Morris this morning," John said. "I arrived at her home and found her in the foyer…laid there…she had seemingly fallen down the stairs. There was no one there. Her husband was absent."

"She fell down the stairs?"

"So she says," John said and eyed Laszlo with suspicion. Did the doctor know? Did he also have suspicions? Why was he here? "And I'll ask again, why are you here?"

"I have become acquainted with Mrs Morris ever since I met her when her sister was brought to my Institute."

"And you just happened to rush down here before her husband?" John questioned.

Laszlo's brow furrowed. "Her husband is not here?"

John shook his head. "No one can get hold of him," he said to him. "But she is awake. She will be fine."

Laszlo took a shaky breath before he spoke. "How bad is she?"

John looked to the ground, hands going into his pocket before Laszlo gripped tightly onto his cane, knuckles turning white. He was doing his best to remain composed, but he was finding it quite difficult. He was finding it all quite difficult. His mind had been a whirl since he had gained the news by chance from a patient of his who had come from the hospital, claiming she had seen the grand Mrs Morris there. And then Laszlo had cancelled all of his appointments. He had gone straight to her and he figured that had to mean something.

"Broken leg…three cracked ribs…and a fractured arm," John said and Laszlo's teeth ground together in frustration. "She has had some morphine and is currently not in pain. Her bones should heal."

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes," John nodded.

"Then I should like to speak with her," Laszlo nodded his head sternly.

John bit down on his tongue for a moment, trying to work out what was going on. "I imagine you can," he chose his words carefully, "but I confess myself intrigued, Laszlo. You might be acquainted with her, but you are here before her husband…and how well acquainted are you with her?"

"What are you suggesting?" Laszlo demanded.

"Nothing," John quickly said. "I just want you to be careful, Laszlo. She is a married woman."

"I am aware," Laszlo said with a curt tone. "I will speak with you later, John, but for now I would quite like to see Elizabeth."

John waved a hand in the direction of the ward. Laszlo walked into the ward, heading in the direction of the only occupied bed at the end of the dreary room. There were four beds in the room, but three were empty except for hers. She was by the window, the curtains open but no light shining in. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the lights were flickering slightly in the room. She was covered in a white sheet, her head resting on two pillows and her hair fanned out. She looked almost angelic.

As Laszlo approached, the noise of his footsteps clearly echoed into her ears. She turned her head to the side and he saw the large bruise forming on her cheek, her eye swollen shut and her lip split. Laszlo froze on the spot, his mouth dropping open and his face scrunching up. He looked horrified by what he was seeing. He didn't know how he could comprehend it.

"Laszlo," she spoke his name.

"Elizabeth…what happened?" he asked her, stepping to the bed. She turned to look back up to the ceiling and he noted the tear stains on her cheeks. Coming closer to the bed, he sat down on the chair and let his cane sit against the wall. She said nothing and Laszlo took his time to ask her to confirm his suspicions. "You didn't fall down the stairs, did you?"

She said nothing again, but her silence spoke volumes. He saw her chest begin to rise and fall, her body shaking. She was struggling to remain composed. She was struggling to keep herself settled. He grabbed hold of her hand, acting completely out of instinct before sitting on the side of the bed. He moved his other hand, ignoring the ache in his arm, to her hair. He brushed it from her cheek, his thumb moving over her skin and clearing the tears that had dropped there.

"How could he do this to you?" Laszlo asked from her. "And to leave you…I feel sick, Elizabeth."

"He did it because he found out that I had been coming to see you," Elizabeth whispered to him and she looked up to him. He kept his hand against her cheek. "He thinks that…well…he doesn't want me anywhere near you. You should go, Laszlo."

"I cannot go when you are like this," Laszlo said to her with a firm shake of his head. He heard the rain begin to pour outside, the noise of it hitting against the window in short, sharp taps. "How can you ask me to leave you?"

"Because I do not want to see you get into trouble," Elizabeth croaked out to him.

"I do not care what your husband may do to me. I only care about what he may do to you," Laszlo said, clear anger in his tone. "We must tell the police, Elizabeth. You cannot go back to him, not this time. Please, listen to me."

"I can't," she croaked out and Laszlo wondered why. He wondered what she was thinking. But before he could press her, she was talking again. "I can't because I'm pregnant."

Laszlo felt everything inside of him crumble then. His hand went slack inside of hers as she finally broke down, sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. She was pregnant. She was having his child. He moved towards her, daring to press his lips to her forehead before turning his face, the bottom his cheek resting on the top of her forehead, his beard scratching her skin as he stayed close to her. He offered her the comfort that she needed. He offered her the comfort that he longed to give her as he tried to figure a way to help her as best as he could.

…

Laszlo had gathered John, Sara and the Isaacson twins at Delmonico's. They had ate and discussed the case together before leaving. Laszlo was due to give Sara a ride back home, but he had said something to John that had not gone down too well. John had thus insisted on running off. He had left them alone and Laszlo had looked to the Isaacson twins, asking them if they required a ride home. But they had said that they would be fine. And then Marcus had asked Laszlo about Elizabeth.

"Why was Elizabeth not here this evening?"

Laszlo's jaw suddenly jutted out. "She is not a part of this case," he said.

"Shame," Marcus said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "You don't think she might like to go to dinner one night, do you?"

Laszlo shrugged. "You would have to ask her."

"I will when I see her," Marcus confirmed. "She was pretty sweet, I've got to say, not at all like I thought she would be after I read about her in the papers."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read," Laszlo said and nodded his head. "And Elizabeth is her own person. If you wish to take her for dinner then you would need to ask her."

"And she isn't courting anyone?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Not you?" Marcus asked and the question took Laszlo by surprise. The young man shrugged his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant but failing. He had to admit he was intrigued. He was intrigued as to why Laszlo had taken Elizabeth in. "She's often pictured with you at the opera…out for walks…dinner…people wonder if there is something between you two."

"As I said," Laszlo drawled, "you shouldn't believe everything you read."

He left without another word. Heading to the carriage, he climbed in and conversed with Sara on the way home before returning to his own abode. Cyrus held the door open for him as he told him and Stevie to get some rest, thanking them for their help that night. Entering the house through the front door, he removed his coat and hat, hanging them on the rack in the corner before he heard footsteps run down the staircase. Looking up, he saw Mary, her face contorted in anguish.

"Mary, what is it?" Laszlo asked and she signed quickly to him.

I can't wake her up. She's been screaming and shaking.

Laszlo dropped his cane and ran up the staircase, Mary pressing her back against the wall to allow him to pass her by. Heading down the landing, he saw that her bedroom door was wide open and he heard her soft sobs. Entering her room, the lamp was on low on her bedside table, her covers pulled up to her chest that was heaving. Her head was rolling back and forth, sweat dropping from her forehead.

"Elizabeth," Laszlo spoke her name firmly, hoping that he would be able to wake her. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he reached out for her, taking hold of her by the arms. "Elizabeth, I need you to wake up."

Laszlo was aware that during nightmares it was best to leave a person. But he never took that advice when it came to Elizabeth. He found it too difficult to sit by idly. He couldn't do that. He continued shaking her firmly, trying not to startle her too much. After a few minutes, her eyes opened wide and she gasped for breath. Sitting up, Laszlo did his best to calm her.

"You're safe," he promised her as Mary stood in the doorway, looking on in. "You're safe and you're here…with me…" he told her and then glanced to Mary. Nodding once, he offered her a sad smile. "Thank you, Mary, I can take this from here."

Mary nodded and backed out of the bedroom, leaving the two of them alone. Elizabeth slowly calmed herself down, Laszlo's hand on the small of her back, soothingly stroking it up and down. There was silence between the two of them then and Elizabeth bent at the waist slightly, taking in deep breaths before pulling at the covers, tugging them up to her stomach. She was dressed only in her white nightgown, well aware that this was not entirely appropriate. Then again, her relationship with Laszlo had never been conventional.

"You have not had a terror like that in a long time," Laszlo said to her, his voice a gentle whisper.

"I suppose I have not," she whispered back to him, uncertain of what she should say.

He said nothing back to her then and she ran her hand over her forehead, feeling the sweat pooling there before looking over to Laszlo one more time. He simply lowered his head, letting his forehead press to hers for a moment before whispering hotly.

"I'm sorry," he said and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Closing her eyes, she nodded her head, forehead brushing against his. "And…I think we need to talk."

"Tomorrow?" she urged from him.

"Tomorrow," he echoed in agreement. "You should try and get some rest, Elizabeth."

"I don't want to go back to sleep," she said to him, sitting up once more and wrapping her arms around herself, hair falling in front of her and down her shoulders. Turning to glance to Laszlo, she wondered if he would stay with her as he had done many times before. He nodded, seeming to understand what she was asking from him.

"I have a paper that I am working on," he told her. "Perhaps I could read it to you? I know how my work always sends you back to sleep."

His joke caused her lips to quirk upwards and she nodded. He gave her a final smile before moving to his bedroom. He picked up the papers from the top of his dresser and headed back to her bedroom. He sat down on the bed once more, holding the papers in one hand and sitting against the headboard. He kicked his feet onto the bed and Elizabeth moved down the bed. She didn't completely lay down. Instead, she sat up slightly, her head turned to the side and resting on a pillow as Laszlo began to read. He looked down to her occasionally, seeing her eyes flutter closed. She wasn't sleeping, but she looked so peaceful.

Only when she was on the verge of sleep did she speak to him. "I don't like fighting with you," she whispered and Laszlo pulled his tie down his chest, loosening the buttons of his shirt. He moved his arm slowly, daring to wrap it around her shoulders. She didn't push him off. Instead, she dropped her head to rest in the crook of his arm as he lay down next to her, his chin dropping to his chest to look down at her and he wondered if she would still feel the same after they had talked.

...

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone reading and everyone who has reviewed - it really means a lot! Do let me know what you think!