A SHOT IN THE DARK
CHAPTER SEVEN
After throwing an impatient glance at the clock, Hilda pushed her chair back from her desk, grabbed her coat, and strode purposefully out of the quiet station. It had been a long, busy day at work, and all Hilda really wanted to do was go home, and curl up on the couch with a good book and a glass of wine. What she needed to do was another thing entirely.
Al had not gotten any better. Well, in a certain sense he had; they had let him out of the hospital about two weeks ago, and they said he should be able to get back to work eventually. But while physically healing, there was still something very off about Al, and tonight Hilda was determined to get to deal with this new, strange Al, and what it meant for their relationship.
So Hilda flagged down a cab, and gave the driver Professor's Layton's address in a firm, unyielding voice before she could change her mind. Having visited Al quite often since he got out of the hospital, the route to his father's house had become quite familiar to Hilda, and her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window at the fleetly fleeing houses.
What was she going to say? What was she going to do? Flashing glimpses of half-played out scenarios played through her mind, punctuated by shouted words and imagined kisses—for while Hilda predicted the night would not end well, she dared to hope that a well-turned phrase would somehow restore Al to previous state of passion.
And it was not impossible, Hilda reminded herself, as she stepped out of the cab in front of Professor Layton's attractive brownstone house. "Thank you," she murmured vaguely to the cab driver, after paying him, and then slowly began walking up the steps to the front door, her shadow dancing behind her. She rang the front doorbell, and took a deep breath as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears. She could do this.
_-oO~Oo-_
Alfendi watched, faintly entranced, as fading sunlight slipped softly around the curtain edges. He was laying on the couch, a half-read book held loosely in idle fingers, and, oddly, he was at peace. He still felt rather like he had recently been run over by a truck, and the nightmares—both of That Night, and the little black room in the corner of his mind—were still bad. And yet, Alfendi felt more peaceful and calm than he really ever had.
Yes, the eerily-familiar voice still haunted the back of his mind, but that was okay. There were other voices to keep him company—namely, Justin and Hilda, and his father. His father…a smile spread across Alfendi's relaxed features at the thought of his father, who had been so kind to him. Despite all the times Alfendi had been ungrateful to him the past, his father had still insisted on taking care of Alfendi during his convalescence.
Just then, the trill of the doorbell rang through Alfendi's thoughts, and he slowly rose from the couch, making his way painstakingly to the door. Hilda stood upon the front step, her golden hair crowned by the setting sun.
"Come in!" Alfendi exclaimed delightedly, stepping aside to let her in. He did not even notice the distraught expression on her face. "Good to see you, Hilda, thank you for stopping by! Now, how are you?" he asked, resettling himself on the couch, while Hilda took a seat in the chair opposite him.
"I—I'm fine. And you are…improving?" without waiting for an answer, Hilda plunged straight ahead. "Listen, Al, I need to talk to you."
He nodded calmly. "Certainly. What I can do for you?"
Across from him, Hilda's hand played nervously with her handbag, and her eyes flickered about the patterned carpet, as if seeking a distraction. Finally, she said, "Well, I don't know how to say this any other way, but…Al, you've changed. What's wrong? Are you okay? Did—did I do something wrong?"
"Wha-? No!" said Alfendi, blinking, startled. "Of course you did nothing wrong, Hilda."
"But…but what happened, then?"
Alfendi stared at her blankly. "I don't understand."
Now she seemed upset. "You're so different now! Before, you would have yelled at me the moment I opened my mouth, but now…"
"Yelled at you? I would never do that!"
"That's just it," nodded Hilda wearily. "You wouldn't. But the real Alfendi would have. The real Alfendi would have yelled and shouted about how naïve I was for even worrying, and I would have yelled right back, and then, after more screeching, we would have kissed. Al. You have not kissed me since that night."
A faint blush spread across Alfendi's cheeks. "I wasn't sure…I mean…" he stammered, but Hilda just shook her head.
"You aren't sure, and that means you aren't the Al I knew, and you definitely aren't the Al I fell in love with. And so…I…" Hilda paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. "I'm breaking up with you. I can't date a stranger, so…it's over. I am sorry about what happened to you. I truly am. But I can't do this anymore. So, goodbye."
Hilda rose to leave, her face a tightly controlled mask. "Wait, Hilda, stop!" cried Alfendi getting shakily to his feet. "It's still me! I'm still Alfendi, and I still love you."
"Oh, really," she said, whirling around to face him, her eyes blazing. "How sure are you that you love me? Hmmm? Tell me."
Looking down at Hilda, Alfendi faltered. "I… 83.6%. I am 83.6% sure that I love you, Hilda Pertinax."
"And I am 100% certain that I do not love you, Alfendi Layton. Good evening." With that, Hilda spun away, long blond hair swaying in her wake, and Alfendi watched in horror as the door slammed shut behind her. Suddenly, he collapsed to his knees, as a clamor erupted in his head.
"What did you DO?!" roared Al, and Alfendi flinched away in fright.
"Nothing, nothing, I…" he stammered, but Al drowned out his feeble voice.
"Nothing?! Nothing?! You let the woman I love walk away, with nothing but a pathetic excuse? HOW DARE YOU."
"It wasn't my fault—"
"Oh, reeeaaaallllyy?" sneered Al, his expression contemptuous. "This WHOLE thing is your fault, you sniveling perfidious worm. You're nothing but a lousy, lying, back-stabbing, body-snatching, mewling, quivering slimy excuse for a mangy, flea-ridden son of a filthy—"
"STOP!"
"No! I WILL KILL YOU. I will tear your limbs apart, and watch as you bleed out on the floor, you slimy BASTARD!
_-oO~Oo-_
Professor Layton was in his study when the sound of shouting reached his ears. Early, when he heard Hilda's voice floating down the hallway, he had smiled softly, glad that Alfendi had company. Then the professor had become engrossed in his book, and awareness had slipped away from him, until suddenly angry yells reached his ears.
"Alfendi? Is everything alright?" the professor called out, hastily running out of his study and over to the parlor. What he saw when he reached the parlor nearly stopped his heart; Alfendi, crouched down, hair askew, eyes aglow, repeatedly slamming his head on the floor, yelling all the while.
"Alfendi! Alfendi, STOP!" cried the professor, rushing over, and grabbing his son's thin wrists. "Stop!" he repeated, desperately, and Al stared at him, golden eyes blazing. "Alfendi…Alfendi, what are you doing?! Are you okay?"
"Of course, I'm okay, old man!" Al snapped rudely, and the professor stared back at him with a growing sense of wonder. His son seemed…different. No, not different, but rather, the same as he used to be; the bright red hair, the fierce expression, the fiery eyes…this was the Al Professor Layton had begun to think was gone forever.
"Oh, Al…I'm so glad you're back…" the professor was not normally one given to displays of affection, but now, overcome with relief, Professor Layton embraced his son. Then he felt Alfendi stiffen in his arms, and, drawing back, he was shocked to see the change that had come over his son. Alfendi now seemed muted, with his hair a darker shade, his face still, his eyes empty. The Not-Alfendi had returned.
"I had hoped you would prefer me," Alfendi said quietly, eyes cast downward. "The wild one never appreciated you and what you've done for him. But I do, and I thought… well, clearly I was wrong. You don't love me. Hilda doesn't love me. You both love him, and I just can't understand why… I—I don't feel well…I'm going to my room."
The professor could only watch in dismay as Alfendi rose shakily to his feet, and stumbled out of the room, leaning against the wall for support. Oh my son, thought Professor Layton, what happened to you? Where did you go? He could only hope that someday Alfendi would be whole again—or that someone would come along that could love both halves of Alfendi equally.
A/N: So, this chapter is one of two things: the end, or the halfway point. It all depends on you guys. If there's enough interest, I will continue with this story; fast forward a few years, bring in Lucy, and present a new murder mystery. But if you all think this story has gone on long enough, or simply that this is the perfect ending, then I will end it here! Awesomest99er: why yes, I did mention you, and look, I did it again :) The Mocking J: thank you! I think their individual personalities are all fascinating, so I'm glad they came through! As always, please follow/favorite/review, and thanks for reading!