Elizabeth hardly heard the door close. She had been sat in Charlotte's room, looking around and doing her best not to fear the worst. They had been in that house and they had seen blood, but there had been no body. She knew how morbid it sounded. It was all so macabre. She despised it. But then she began to wonder just what had happened in that room. Her mind had gone to a dark place. She had tried to block out the images of the room. She didn't want to see the blood stained walls. She didn't want to think of the handcuffs on the bed. She never wanted to think of them again, but they were engraved in her memory. They were stuck there and she didn't think she would get rid of them.

As she began to think about what it was that had happened in the room, she found herself crying again, thankful that she had insisted Marcus leave her and that she would be fine. She had lain on Charlotte's bed, finding a strand of her hair on her pillow and had smoothed a finger along it as her cheek pressed to the pillow, a wet stain there and her body shaking on the mattress.

She must have fallen asleep again because of exhaustion for the next thing she heard was the faint noise of the front door closing. Her eyes fluttered open and she half expected to hear footsteps climb the stairs, but there was nothing. Had Laszlo come back? She pushed herself from the bed, her efforts laboured and her eyes still stinging with tears. She tried to ignore the constant pounding in her head from a headache, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Moving down the staircase and clinging to the bannister tightly, she saw that the lamps in the parlour were switched on. Moving into the room, she found Laszlo sat in a chair, leant forwards with his hands clasped together. He was looking to the ground, his legs spread in front of him. Elizabeth moved further into the room, standing in the middle of it and attracting his attention. Looking to his wife, Laszlo wondered jus how he could tell her the news that he had discovered with Sara only an hour ago.

"Marcus said that you had gone out," Elizabeth started conversation. "Where did you go?"

"I went to see Sara," Laszlo said to her. "To see if we could find anything out…if we…" he trailed off and his mouth dried out. He wet his lips, wondering if that would help him be able to continue talking. He shook his head as he looked up, his gaze meeting Elizabeth's once again and he knew that he had told tell her.

"I think that this could be one of the most disturbing cases yet," Laszlo confessed to his wife, sitting down in the armchair as she knelt in front of him, squeezing his hands tightly and seeing the colour drain from his face.

"Why do you say that?" she asked from him.

He gulped and looked her in the eye. "Because our daughter is involved," he said to her. Elizabeth's brow furrowed and her grip on Laszlo seemed to increase. She clung tightly onto his hands as she remained knelt in between his legs and he held onto her firmly. "The case that we had been working on…the murders of the little girls. We found newspaper cuttings in the boxes in the house, Elizabeth."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, unable to comprehend what she was hearing from her husband. Shaking her head back and forth, she hoped that there had to be a mistake. "No…Charlotte…she cannot be involved in this. Laszlo…there has to be some mistake."

"I didn't know how to tell you," Laszlo said to his wife as she moved her hands from his and placed them over her mouth, managing to stand up straight. Her legs were shaking as she paced up and down, her headache increasing and her stomach churning. "I didn't want to tell you this, Elizabeth. I didn't want it to be true…but I think…the more we looked through the boxes we found things belonging to the girls…Jessica's favourite ribbon…a coat…"

"No," Elizabeth said firmly, her tone harsh and her throat clenching. "It…not Charlotte…no!"

"Elizabeth, I can't lie to you. I will never lie to you," Laszlo said to his wife and forcing himself to his own feet, shaking on them as he moved towards his wife. She continued pacing and she bent at the waist after a moment, arms clutching onto her stomach as though she was trying not to be ill. Laszlo knew that feeling very well.

"She's…it's not possible," Elizabeth shook her head, still doubled over as Laszlo took hold of her by the waist and tried to get her to straighten up so that he could at least hold onto her. He managed to pull her upright and she moved her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist, feeling her sobbing against him once again.

He let his own tears flow down his cheeks as he remained stood in the middle of the parlour, holding onto his wife as tightly as he possibly could.

…

Elizabeth knew what should come next. If their daughter had been taken by the same woman who had killed the other three girls then there should be a body. They should find a body in a public place and it should be the same as the others. Five days had gone by since they had found the house and Elizabeth had hardly come out of Charlotte's room. Laszlo would find her there in the middle of the night, draped over the bed and clinging to the teddy bear. She wouldn't be asleep, but she would be silent as he stood in the doorway and watched her. He would leave her alone and return to their own room, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his face into his hands.

It was all they could do.

Diana had stayed in the Hamptons with Emily and Lucy. Laszlo had called her to tell her what had happened, but had asked her not to tell his daughters. He didn't want them to hear it from someone other than him or his wife. This was their news to tell and he knew exactly how it would hurt Lucy and Emily. He did not want to imagine a world without Charlotte, but as time went on, he suspected that he would have to.

As Laszlo finished dressing for another day, he walked by Charlotte's room and found Elizabeth still there, laid on the bed with her eyes firmly closed and her hands pushed underneath the pillow.

"Darling," he spoke into the room. "At least come with me for a walk today."

"I'm fine," Elizabeth said to her husband, still in her nightgown, her feet bare and her shoulders bared from where it had fallen down. Laszlo sighed to himself, shaking his head and moving further into the room. He crouched down by the bed, moving a hand over to Elizabeth's to sit on top of it.

"You're not fine," he said to her. "We're not fine…and we won't be, not for a very long time. But you need air, Elizabeth. Please…you need fresh air and you need to eat. You promised me that you wouldn't shut yourself away from me because we need each other, but with each day…every night I find you in here…I worry that is what you're doing."

Her eyes opened then and she looked to him, seeing the pleading in his face as his thumb ran over her knuckles and his fingers squeezed hers firmly. "Please," he tried again.

Looking to him, Elizabeth nodded her head. She saw his lips pick up for the briefest of moments in an encouraging smile. Elizabeth sat up as Laszlo kept hold of her hand and helped her stand from the bed. He guided her back to their bedroom, the silence heavy between the two of them. She began to dress, changing into a fresh chemise and corset, Laszlo helping her with the strings as she held onto the dresser, clinging tightly onto it as he pulled at them with his one good hand. Pulling on a green blouse and a checked skirt, Elizabeth nodded her head.

They went downstairs and she helped Laszlo with his boots before tugging her own onto her feet. He gripped his cane as Elizabeth pulled on a light coat and she took his arm. The sunlight almost blinded her as they left the house and walked down the street. Laszlo kept hold of her arms, not wanting to let her go as they remained silent.

It seemed as though they had nothing to say to each other. They could hardly make small talk. The state of the weather seemed unimportant, predominately because it was unimportant. What did any of it matter?

"No," Elizabeth suddenly said as Laszlo began to turn right down a street and she remained rooted on the spot. Laszlo took a step back to her, looking confused as he looked down to her. "That's the way to the park…she…she used to love the park."

Nodding his head, Laszlo didn't want Elizabeth to feel that she had to justify herself. Instead, they took the turn right and continued down the cobbled streets, avoiding the greenery of the park. The streets became busier as they went down them and Elizabeth wondered just why they had come out. She could feel the staring eyes of passers-by on them. She could feel the judgment coming from them. She could feel the pity. She should have known news would spread.

"Ignore them," Laszlo urged from his wife. "You've always been good at ignoring people, Elizabeth."

"But this is different," Elizabeth declared. "That was about me…this is about…Charlotte…" she choked her name out. Blinking back tears, Elizabeth shook her head. "This was a bad idea, Laszlo. Please, can we just go home? I don't want to be out here…please…"

"Yes," Laszlo said, wondering if he had pushed her too much. He had hoped that fresh air would help her with the headaches she had been suffering with. But maybe this had been a step too far. Laszlo had found himself going on walks every morning, sitting on park benches and losing himself in his mind, replaying memories that brought him happiness.

But everyone grieved differently. He knew that.

"Ignore them and just focus on me," Laszlo urged, seeing that his wife's gaze was dancing around everywhere, unable to stay fixed on one certain thing. She looked up to him and he glanced down at her, managing to avoid bumping into people. "I've got you," Laszlo promised her, moving a hand over his body to hold onto hers that sat on his arm. "I've always got you."

Nodding her head, Elizabeth focused simply on Laszlo's touch until they were back home again. Closing the front door behind them, Elizabeth leaned against the wood as Laszlo left his cane by the wall.

"How can you stand to be out there…with all of those eyes looking at us?" Elizabeth asked him, shaking her head and pinching her nose. "And I know what they're thinking…the pity…the judgment…I can't stand it, Laszlo."

"I know, I know," Laszlo assured her, moving to place his hands on her shoulders, holding them tightly in his grip. "I understand completely, Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said to him, shaking her head and closing her eyes for a moment, letting out a breath that she felt she had held in since they had left the house. Laszlo continued to rub her shoulders, hoping to soothe her and calm her down as she opened her eyes and looked to him, nodding once to indicate that she was doing fine. "It was a nice idea, Laszlo."

"Well, we can always get air in the courtyard," Laszlo said to her. "Come along, we can go out there and have a cup of tea and perhaps think about eating something for breakfast, yes?"

"Alright," Elizabeth agreed with him on that point.

They began to head through to the kitchen when the phone began to ring. Laszlo sighed and urged for his wife to go ahead as he picked the phone up and took the call. Elizabeth hid around the corner in the hallway to the kitchen, listening in as Laszlo grunted down the phone and she wondered just who he was talking to. She waited until he had hung up before heading back to he hallway and seeing him stood there, a hand braced against the wall.

And, judging by the way his head hung down, she knew that she should brace herself to expect the worst news possible.

…

"They should come home."

It had been several hours since Laszlo had taken the phone call. He had managed to tell Elizabeth the news in between his own sobs and the two of them had sat on the bottom step of the staircase and cried, wrapped up in each other's arms. The news had come in and once they had managed to stop crying so loudly and profusely, they had left to see for themselves.

"I know," Laszlo said, sitting on the floor in the hallway next to Elizabeth, their arms brushing. "I will call Diana and ask her to bring them back home."

The phone call had delivered nothing but bad news. Someone had spotted Charlotte with the woman from the newspaper. The drawing that John had done of her had been published and clearly had caught people's attention. And then Charlotte had also been in the papers too. The two of them had been seen going into some run down building in the backstreets of Brooklyn. The police had been called and had gotten there as soon as they could, but the woman had set the building on fire. It had burned and no one had come out. The entire building had been surrounded so they had been certain that no one had gotten out.

Elizabeth and Laszlo had gone to the burnt building, looking at it in its crumbling form, their eyes moving over it and smelling the smoke that still lingered. Laszlo and Elizabeth had held hands as Stevie sat atop the carriage behind them; his own eyes watering as he thought about what had happened in that building.

They had gone back home and locked themselves away, barely getting into the house before collapsing in a heap to the floor together, resting against each other's side.

They had always feared the worst since they had discovered the house, but now it was all but confirmed. The police had warned them that there would be no body. The flames would have destroyed everything and the wreckage was too severe. And now they had to make do in a world without their oldest daughter. But neither of them knew how they would be able to do that.

"How do we tell them what has happened?" Elizabeth asked from her husband, tossing her head back against the wall. "Emily is too young to understand completely…but Lucy…she isn't a baby anymore."

"We simply tell them what we have to tell them," Laszlo informed his wife, hand sitting on her thigh and feeling the material of her skirts. "They do not need to know anymore than that. They're too young, my darling. They're too young to know the true horrors."

Elizabeth nodded her head. She agreed with him on that point. "I just don't understand how this could have happened. She…what did she go through, Laszlo? What did she really go through?"

"Don't think about it," Laszlo begged from her.

"I don't know if that's possible," Elizabeth whispered to her husband, shaking her head and looking at him, seeing his blotchy cheeks and wet eyes. "I just want her back, Laszlo. I want her back here and safe with us and I can't believe that's not going to happen…that we're not going to see her walk through the door again."

"I know," Laszlo promised her in a gentle voice.

They remained silent as Elizabeth dropped her head to his shoulder and he rested his cheek on top of her hair, feeling the soft curls against his coarse beard. He managed to wrap his arm around her shoulders as she took hold of his waistcoat, her fingers trailing along the buttons of it. They kept quiet until they heard a knock on the door.

"Ignore it," Laszlo said to his wife, neither of them wanting to deal with whoever it may be. They just wanted to be left alone with each other and no one else. That was all there was to it.

The knock sounded again and Laszlo huffed as Elizabeth hummed against his shoulder, her warm breath hitting his neck. "They'll go," she said to him, confident of that much. "And if it is Sara or John then they would yell."

But the knocking sounded again and Laszlo moved to his feet, shaking his head and helping his wife to stand up as she moved to her feet, huffing loudly in annoyance at whoever it was who wouldn't leave them alone. Laszlo reached for the doorknob and turned on it, the wooden door peeling open to reveal a tall, slender woman dressed in an expensive and intricately detailed red gown. Her blonde hair was pinned in loose curls at the top of her head, spilling out from underneath a red hat. She had expensive earrings in her ears, no doubt the most expensive diamonds available. Her necklace was a golden chain with a pearl hanging at the end of it. Laszlo's brows furrowed at the sight of her.

"Yes?" he questioned from her.

"Are you Dr Kreizler?" she asked him.

"I am, but I am currently very busy. If this concerns the Institute then I insist you call them," Laszlo said, not in the mood for any type of conversation. He simply wanted to go back to Elizabeth.

"I am not here about the Institute," she said to him with a shake of her head. "I am here because…it's my niece."

Laszlo looked even more confused at that. "Your niece?" he asked from her.

"I'm Rose. Rose Watson," she said to him and she let out a deep breath. "And I need to talk to you."

Elizabeth appeared behind Laszlo's shoulder at hearing who the woman was, gripping onto his arm and wondering just what it was she wanted.

…

Sitting at the dining table, Laszlo took his usual seat at the head of the table while Elizabeth sat to his right. Rose had sat down opposite her, bowing her head and looking to the wooden table. Elizabeth's glare had remained on her the entire time, refusing to relent for one moment. This was the woman who had abandoned Charlotte. She had left her alone. And Rose knew that the woman across from her was angry and not her number one fan. That much was apparent.

"I know that you are not best pleased with me for what I have done," Rose began, uncertain of how to start when it became apparent that the Kreizlers were not going to say anything.

Elizabeth scoffed. "You abandoned your niece at the Institute," she spat at her. "Excuse us if we forgo the pleasantries."

"I…perhaps that was wrong," Rose admitted.

"She would have gone to an orphanage if we did not adopt her," Elizabeth continued and Laszlo could feel her anger from next to him. Truth be told, he was quite angry himself. He was just doing his best to hold it in. There had to be a reason why this woman was here now. "She had no one else but you."

"And I know that now."

"What?" Elizabeth snarled. "Now that she's dead?"

"Elizabeth, darling," Laszlo urged from her, looking to her as she looked at him, unable to believe that he was seemingly trying to stop her from giving this woman a piece of her mind. "Ms Watson must be here for a reason. Let us at least hear that reason before we tell her to leave."

Elizabeth ground her teeth together, but relented, suspecting that her husband might have a point. She remained silent and sat back in her seat as Laszlo turned back to Rose.

"Why are you here?" Laszlo questioned her.

"I…I should have come sooner," Rose confessed. "As soon as I saw her image in the paper by that John Moore, I knew I should have come and warned you. But I didn't know that she…we thought that she had died…"

"Your sister," Laszlo said.

"Yes, Beatrice…Bea…as we used to call her," Rose said and looked down to the table, almost struggling to speak. She shouldn't have kept this a secret for as long as she did. She should have been honest. "She was the middle child. Alison was the eldest, then Beatrice and then me. She was…she always said that she felt like the odd one out."

"If the woman who took Charlotte was Beatrice, then why would she say that she is her mother?" Elizabeth asked, her tone taut. Laszlo had told her all about the discovery they had made from the house, Sara trying to track Rose down. But it seemed she had no reason to bother now.

"Because she is."

Laszlo and Elizabeth were silent. Rose picked her gaze up and looked between the two of them, her eyes glazed over and her lips pursed. She looked back down to her hands, a large diamond protruding from a silver band as she thought about her husband. She had done everything in her power to forget her past. She had ran away from it, even abandoned her niece in the hope that she could pretend it had all just been a bad memory. But here she was. She was going back to the start

"I'll tell you what happened," Rose said to the pair of them. "But when I leave here then that is it. I have a husband waiting for me and a ship back to London."

"Then tell us," Laszlo said and laced his hands together on the table. Elizabeth leant forwards, her own hands shaking in her lap.

"Alright," Rose said and she drew a deep breath. "We never had the best childhood growing up. Our mother wasn't particularly nice to us and she…when father died, she drank. She always turned to drink and we did everything that we could to avoid her and stay away from her, but Beatrice…she would shout back. She would never back down from an argument, even as a little girl."

Rose tapped her foot on the floor, shaking her head and remembering her childhood. She remembered hiding in her bedroom all of the time. She remembered cowering in the corner, hoping that her mother's rage didn't find her.

"And mother was violent. She missed our father and blamed us for his death. She said that he was only working away to provide for us, that if we hadn't have been born then he would never have left and would still be alive. He died of a heart attack from stress…struggling to afford that big house…a family with three children."

"We've seen the house," Laszlo told her.

She nodded. "So, when father died, mother turned to drink and became even more violent than usual and because Beatrice would argue back, she claimed that she was the devil child…she would lock her in her bedroom and constantly repeat 'hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil'…she truly believed that Beatrice was evil."

"The children," Laszlo whispered and looked to Elizabeth. "Their tongues, eyes and ears had been removed."

Elizabeth nodded back, going pale as a sheet as she heard the story unfold.

"The arguments escalated when Beatrice became a teenager and she would go out and get into all sorts of trouble as well. She would steal…see boys when she wasn't supposed to…Alison and I tried to get her to stop. We tried to get her to see sense and stay by our side, but she didn't want to. There were so many incidents…mother found her trying to cut her hair one day and was mad…she cut all of Beatrice's hair off."

"And the children were scalped," Laszlo could barely mumble, struggling to come to terms with what he was hearing about this case. He was struggling with all of it. Elizabeth remained mute as she wondered just where this story was going.

"Yes," Rose commented. "And then…when she was sixteen and Alison was twenty-one, Beatrice fell pregnant. She was only just a girl and she was constantly causing trouble…bringing the police to our door. We had considered if we could try and get her help, but we had little money. We had nothing except our family name."

Rose folded one leg over the other and continued her tale. "Beatrice was exhausting us, you have to know that. She began arguing with me and Alison all of the time. The things that she said were horrible and we couldn't understand why she was pushing us away…but we know that she was the product of our mother's actions. We knew it, but we couldn't save her or stop her…but we…we knew that she couldn't raise a child."

Rose looked between Laszlo and Elizabeth for a brief moment. "Alison and her husband had been trying for a child for a number of years, but she never fell pregnant. She told Beatrice that she would look after her child. She told her that she would raise her as her own and Beatrice wouldn't have to worry about a child being born out of wedlock, but Beatrice never wanted that."

Rose inhaled sharply. "We tried to hide her pregnancy as best we could," Rose said. "But it became increasingly difficult. We…we didn't want her to bring shame on our family. We never wanted that…and so we tried to keep her in the house."

"You locked her away?" Laszlo questioned.

"We thought that it would be for her own good," Rose declared. "We were worried about what people would say. We had a good place in society, despite our money issues. The family name made sure of that. We hoped that whoever had gotten Beatrice pregnant might marry her, but she never told us who the father was. We…we tried to persuade her that we were doing this for her…Alison…she even stuffed her dresses to make it appear as though she was with child when she went out in public."

"Despite the fact that Beatrice told her that she wanted to keep the child?"

"You need to understand that Beatrice was not fit to be a mother," Rose said with a firm shake of her head. "The child…Charlotte…she would have been in danger had she stayed with her. She was so dangerous…she lashed out and had fits of rage. Her anger…she was just like our mother sometimes. Alison and I knew she couldn't have a child."

"And so you took Charlotte from her?" Laszlo questioned.

"Do you know what she did to me?" Rose questioned. "I was only seven when she was thirteen. She held a knife to my throat and told me to stop crying over a doll I'd lost. She said that she had seen someone in Brooklyn threaten someone that way and it had worked. I have the scars to prove it," Rose pulled down the high neckline of the dress she wore, revealing a soft red scar that spanned the length of her long neck. "Can you not see why we were scared to leave Charlotte in her care?"

"She was a product of your mother's actions," Laszlo said.

"And we knew what our mother had done to Beatrice. We couldn't let Beatrice hurt Charlotte like that," Rose said firmly. "And so we took her when she was born. We took her from Beatrice and told her that it would be for the best."

Elizabeth bit down on her bottom lip, struggling to comprehend what she was hearing. None of it seemed plausible. It all seemed so impossible, like something out of a horror story she would read. But, clearly, it had happened. It felt too chilling to be fake.

"She didn't react kindly to that," Rose whispered. "But we said that she could still be her aunt…she could still see her…but she had to prove that she was no threat to her, that she could change her ways and be a responsible adult."

Rose stood up, her leg tapping on the ground uncontrollably. She began pacing the length of the table, arms wrapped around her waist and her head tilted back, eyes to the ceiling.

"Alison told me to come with her and take Charlotte back to her house," Rose said. "We had left Beatrice in bed and mother…mother was actually sober and said that she could look after her. She said that she would be fine for a few hours until we had Charlotte somewhere safe."

"But she wasn't, was she?"

"Beatrice managed to get out of bed and…we don't know the full extent of what had happened. All we know was that we got home and there was blood everywhere…the kitchen…it was on the walls…the floor…and mother…we didn't think that she would make it. Beatrice had managed to get to the front door, but she was wounded too."

"She'd tried to kill her mother?" Laszlo guessed.

"Mother said that was what had happened. She had taken a kitchen knife and stabbed her in the stomach when she refused to tell her where Charlotte was…but mother…she'd managed to cut Beatrice's fingers off of her left hand."

"My God," Laszlo whispered and closed his eyes as Elizabeth remained transfixed on watching Rose as she paced, wondering just what horrors she had seen in her life. She had only been a small girl when her father had died and she had witnessed her mother's violence and then Beatrice's violence in turn. But Elizabeth knew what it was like to grow up with parents who were volatile. Her sister had escaped that life and Elizabeth, in the end, had also gotten away.

"Beatrice was arrested and incarcerated, but mother managed to keep the news hidden. She had been friends with someone high up in the police force who had connections at the Times. No one really knew about Beatrice's imprisonment."

Rose stood still then, holding onto the back of a chair, her knuckles turning white as she gripped it. "And, as much as I hated what Beatrice had done…how she had tormented my childhood…I blamed mother for making her that way. I blamed mother and so did Alison, but she was still our mother and we had been scared about leaving her alone with Beatrice. It seemed we had good reason to be," Rose scoffed and shook her head, looking to the ground. "But when Beatrice was put in prison, Alison left. She wanted a clean break where she could raise Charlotte away from our family. She took me with her until I was old enough to find a job working in a bank and I moved out…met a man who knew nothing about my family because I never told him my real name."

"You hid from your past?" Laszlo checked.

"Wouldn't you?" she sniped back, looking to him. "I wanted something different than what I had grown up in. I wanted to be my own person…have my own identity away from my family. It was a fresh start."

"And that was why you abandoned Charlotte?"

"I…I couldn't look after her," Rose said with a shake of her head. "Jonathan, the man I was courting, never knew I even had a niece. We had been together for over two years. I couldn't tell him about Charlotte. She was a part of my old life, not my new life. I took her to the Institute because I thought it would be the best place for her."

"And then you stopped paying for her to be there," Elizabeth said.

"I…I could hardly ask Jonathan for the money and I had stopped working by then. I had become entirely dependent on him," Rose said. "I am sorry for leaving her. I know that she was innocent in all of this…and I truly thought that Beatrice would never get to her."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because when she was released from prison, she…Alison wrote to me…told me that she had tried to make contact. Alison refused to let Beatrice anywhere near Charlotte. She was still a child."

"So why did you think that she was dead?"

"Because she left Alison a letter telling her that she couldn't go on without her daughter. She told her that there was no point in living without Charlotte and she never tried to make contact again…it ruined Alison. She was only trying to protect Charlotte. That was all she had tried to do."

"But a body was never found?"

"You know that people disappear and die without being identified," Rose said, looking to Laszlo as he watched her back, trying to weigh up what she was telling him. "Why should our sister be no different? If truth be told, I never mourned for her. Both her and mother ruined my childhood and I…it took a long time for me to start a new life."

"And you're sure the woman who took Charlotte was Beatrice?" Elizabeth questioned.

"As I said, a body was never found and the woman in the drawings was exactly like Beatrice," Rose said. "I didn't want it to be possible, but who else could it have been? And then when I heard how they had died in a fire…how the police had found them…I knew she would never give her up. I knew she would never give her daughter up again."

There was silence between them and Elizabeth looked to Laszlo, hoping that he could say something that would make sense of all of this. But he had no words. He had no words that could put any of this into perspective. It all sounded so absurd and horrible.

"I'm sorry," Rose said to them.

"Why did you not tell us any of this before?" Laszlo asked from her, knowing that his grief was taking control of him. "Why could you not have told me when you brought her to the Institute?"

"Because I had thought that Beatrice was dead," Rose said, defending herself. "I had thought that it wouldn't matter."

"But it did," Elizabeth retorted. "It clearly did."

"If I had known…" Rose trailed off, shaking her head. She didn't know what she would have done. She had no idea what she should have done, but she suspected it would have involved not abandoning her sister all of those years ago and most certainly not abandoning her niece. Why had she done that? Why had abandoned her? Perhaps if she had stayed with her then she could have avoided all of this.

"It is too late for 'ifs'," Laszlo declared. "All of it is a little too late."

"I am truly sorry for your loss," Rose said. "I have not had children yet, but you…you clearly loved her as your own daughter, just as Alison did."

"Because she was our daughter," Elizabeth declared, refusing to think of her as anything other than that. "Charlotte was our daughter and we loved her."

"I know." Rose said, not taking that away from them. "And I know that me telling you all of this won't bring you any peace, but I hope that it can bring you some closure, at least."

Elizabeth remained silent, uncertain of if it would. Laszlo could only nod curtly once as Rose looked to the two of them, clearly still digesting what she had told them. She remained demure as she looked to the ground and sniffed. Picking her gaze up after a moment, she looked to the photograph on the bookshelf, seeing Charlotte's smiling face as she stood in front of Elizabeth.

"I should go," Rose said, eyes watering as she sniffed loudly. "Again, I am so sorry, Dr and Mrs Kreizler."

Laszlo and Elizabeth didn't bother to bid her a goodbye. Instead, they remained sat in their chairs, clearly still in shock.

…

Night soon fell over New York City and Laszlo and Elizabeth had barely spoken to each other since Rose had left. Elizabeth had moved around the house in an almost trance-like state while Laszlo had sat in the armchair in the parlour, trying to understand what had made Beatrice into the woman she had been. He suspected his books would hold the answer to reaffirm his beliefs, but he had no desire to look into them. He was not working on some child with no connection to him. This was about his daughter. He had no desire to delve any further into this case because it would do no good. It would not bring Charlotte back.

Laszlo wondered where Elizabeth had gotten to when the clock had struck ten at night. He stood up and moved up the steps, suspecting she might be in Charlotte's room, but it was empty. He did no dwell in the space for long, moving back downstairs and towards the kitchen. He pushed the door open and saw that the back door was open. Elizabeth was sat on the wall outside, the only light coming from the kitchen window that streamed onto the cobbled courtyard.

She had a bottle of bourbon in her hands and Laszlo stepped forwards, moving towards her and heading to sit down on the wall next to her. Wordlessly, she offered him the bottle and he took it, swigging the liquid straight down his throat. He kept hold of it in his hands, letting it dangle in between his legs as he leant forwards.

He felt Elizabeth place a hand to his back, running up and down it softly.

"I keep thinking that when we wake up in the morning it will have all been a nightmare," Laszlo muttered to her as she looked down to him and he took another drink of the bourbon. "That none of this is really real."

"I wish it wasn't," Elizabeth said to him.

"But it is," Laszlo said. "This nightmare is so real."

Elizabeth continued stroking his back slowly and she leant her head forwards, resting her forehead on his shoulder as he placed the bottle down and took hold of hand into his.

"I will call Diana in the morning and ask her to bring Emily and Lucy back home," Laszlo said. "We…we need to tell them and we need to think about…"

"I know," Elizabeth said, knowing what he was trying to say to her for she had thought about it herself. She had thought about planning Charlotte's funeral, but every time she dwelled on it for longer than a few minutes, she felt sick. "We'll get through this together, Laszlo...somehow…we'll get through it."

Laszlo could only nod, knowing that she was right. They would get through it because they had to. They had Lucy and Emily to think about as well. They had two little girls who were relying on them.

"It's just going to take time," Elizabeth continued to tell him as she saw his eyes widen and grow wet. She reached for the handkerchief he kept inside of his waistcoat pocket and dabbed at his eyes as he looked to her and saw her own eyes were wet. "And even then, I…I know that we'll never be the same…how could we be? But we will cope and we will do everything we can for Lucy and Emily."

"I know," Laszlo agreed with her.

"Come on," Elizabeth said and she stood up, holding her hand down to him. "It's getting cold out here and we…it's been a long day…"

Laszlo nodded in agreement with her on that one as he took her hand and stood up, feeling her arm move around his waist as he took hold of hers.

"I know that you've been sleeping in Charlotte's room…and that it makes you feel closer to her…but…tonight…please stay with me," Laszlo said and Elizabeth nodded without even thinking twice. She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek gently.

"I will," she assured him.

As they both readied themselves for bed and climbed into the sheets, turning the light out and nestling against the mattress, they both knew they wouldn't sleep. And so they remained silent, simply holding onto each other as they waited for the morning to break. But they knew that a new day would change nothing. Charlotte would still be gone.

…

A/N: So this answers some of the points, but there is still a lot more to come. I would love to know what you think and if you're still interested and if you have any theories!