CW: mentions of sexual assault (although nothing actually happens), drug use and reading through the lines self-harm.
As always, all recognisable characters belong to Caleb Carr.
Chapter 3
The days at the Institute passed in a increasingly familiar routine. Every morning, at 7am, Lucina and the other girls would awake in their dormitory to the sound of the morning bell. They would have fifteen minutes to wash their faces, get dressed and go downstairs to line up outside the door of the food hall. After roll-call, they would file inside. Breakfast started at the half hour exactly, no earlier, no later. Classes would start at 8:30am. There was a small pause at 10:30am for a lavatory break and a snack, then they had more classes until the lunch bell range out at midday. Matron Gratton encouraged them to spend their lunch hour outside in the fresh air, which she and Ruby often did once they had finished eating. Afternoon lessons were usually something fun, like music or exercise classes, then the school day ended around 3pm. All of the children, big and small, were then free to play, do their homework or whatever else they wished until dinner bell at 6pm. Well, unless someone had an appointment with Dr Kreizle. Which is where Lucina had found herself late Friday afternoon.
Sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair she waited, her hands folded in her lap as Dora had instructed her to do when waiting for adults to address her. Dr Kreizler appeared to be in a state of deep concentration as he read a letter, so she listened to the clock tick loudly on the mantle. Sunlight was flowing through the window and she could see dust motes dancing in the rays. As she gazed through the thick glass, she could see the outline of other children playing in the courtyard. She huffed quietly, wishing she was with them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr Kreizler stop reading and lift his gaze towards her for the first time since he welcomed her into his office.
"Yes, Lucina?" His voice was soft, exactly as it had been on the first day they had met and during their previous meeting on Wednesday afternoon. He was very different from the other doctors she had met since leaving Sydney. He didn't puff out his chest, or talk over people, or treat others like they were idiots. She could see why Dora liked him.
In answer to his question, she pointed to the clock and his mouth curved into a small smile beneath his bushy beard.
"Ah, yes, my apologies, Lucina."
He put down the letter and gave her his full attention.
"You're right, we should get started." Lucina nodded and folded her hands back onto her lap, waiting for him to start. In their last lesson, he had taken the time to check her throat, neck and chest. He had also made her hum non-stop for a minute, try to whistle (she was not very good at that) and copy him when he made a few different sounds. That last one had made her laugh a lot, but she had tried. After all, sounds were not exactly the same thing as talking and she didn't feel a lump in her throat when she made the sounds.
At the end of their session, Dr Kreizler had explained that because he could find no physical reason why she could not talk, they must find another reason together. She wondered what he would do today.
"I received a letter from one of your previous specialists." He said and she looked at the letter, wondering who had sent it.
"Dr Hartley, from Edinburgh."
Lucina felt a flash of irritation. Oh, she remembered the obnoxious little man and his bloated opinions. Most of all, she remembered him calling her a spoiled brat. Well, that and he had smelled awful, like sweat and stale cigars.
"Ah, not a fan of his work I see." Dr Kreizler remarked, watching her face. She shook her head firmly.
"Neither am I." He said flippantly. He scrunched Dr Hartley's letter into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder with a flourish. Lucina giggled.
"I like to form my own opinions about people, Lucina." Dr Kreizler continued and Lucina swung her feet back and forth under the chair nervously.
"And, I think, Dr Hartley has you all wrong." Lucina smirked, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. She waited.
"Lucina, I'm only here to try and help you. Not hurt you or make you feel worse."
That's what the others said. She thought, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over her. It was true. Everywhere they had gone, the doctors had all promised they could help and yet, none of them ever had.
"Hm, you have been let down before, haven't you?" He asked and, although his tone was light, there was a sadness in his eyes. She nodded. He put a finger to his ear and inclined his head towards her.
"I didn't quite catch that."
Suddenly, Lucina felt like there was a rock stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard, but it would not move. She looked frantically at Dr Kreizler, worried that he would be annoyed, but he simply waited patiently. He looked at her as if he had all the time in the world. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Open, close, open, close. She felt her palms begin to sweat.
"It's alright Lucina. Breathe. In through your nose, as much as you can, then release it slowly through your mouth." He instructed, showing her what to do. She followed his advice, taking a deep, steadying breath and releasing it just as slowly.
"Good, now, try again. But take your time, we're not in a hurry here." He encouraged and her throat clenched close again. She could feel her heart thudding against her ribs and there was a loud roaring in her ears. She thought back on all the other doctors, with their yelling, even their canes… She inhaled deeply, trying to focus, trying to push out those awful memories and make a sound beyond the lump in her throat. Her mouth moved.
"No."
At first, she wasn't really sure that she had said anything. The word had been nothing more than a breath, lighter than air. But when she peered at Dr Kreizler, he was smiling widely.
"Well done, Lucina. Excellent. I know that was very difficult." He said encouraging and she smiled, even as her heart continued to race.
"I'm sorry that people have let you down Lucina, I really am." Dr Kreizler said and she could tell he meant it. His eyes said so. Lucina considered herself an expert in telling when people were lying. Dora did it a lot (sometimes well, sometimes not so well), but Dr Kreizler didn't seem to lie at all. Maybe he could teach Dora not to lie as well.
"Lies."
Dr Kreizler's eyes widened a fractioned.
"I assure you, I'm not-" She shook her head fiercely and pointed at the window. Out to the world beyond.
"Other people?" He intuited and she nodded.
"And you don't like that?" She shook her head and looked down at her hands.
"Does Ruby lie?" Dr Kreizler asked curiously and Lucina smiled at the memory of her new friend. They were best friends. Why, yesterday they had even shaken pinkie fingers promising to stay friends forever. And best friends didn't lie to each other. She took a deep breathe. The stone was back, but this time it was a little easier to speak past it.
"No."
"Well done, Lucina." She preened a little with his praise.
"What about Dr Mitchell?" He asked and Lucina frowned, sinking back into her chair. She might like Dr Kreizler, but she wasn't about to betray her sister. Even if she did lie sometimes.
"Ah, I see, you don't like talking about your sister. Is that because you think you're betraying her if you tell me something without her here?" Lucina wondered, not for the first time, if he could read her mind. Dr Kreizler chuckled.
"Lucina, I cannot help you, if you are not open with me." He admonished lightly but Lucina shook her head fiercely.
"Very well. A change of topic then." Dr Kreizler stated, throwing his hands into the air in mock defeat.
"Do you like travelling? It must have been exciting to see so many interesting places." Lucina made a non-commital gesture with her hand. Truth be told, she had liked some parts of her and Dora's voyages. Eating strange, spicy food in Bombay, seeing beautiful castles in Germany and France, walking over Tower Bridge in London. But, she didn't like the actual travelling part. The ships made her feel queasy.
"Hm, could you show me your favourite place?" Dr Kreizler asked, standing and moving around his desk to remove a large globe from one of his bookshelves. Lucina noticed, as he placed it on the table in front of her, his right hand move from his side. She frowned. Maybe he had hurt it while helping Dora the other day?
"Lucina." She was brought back to the present and quickly leaned forward to stare at the globe intently. She pointed to a place on the map.
"Ah, Schloss Neuschwanstein." He sounded surprised and she smiled. She remembered the beautiful castle perched on top of the German mountains, snow settled on its roof like icing on a cake.
"I have never been." Dr Kreizler admitted and she exhaled in surprise.
"No, it's true. I came to this country when I was very young and, truth be told, I only go back to Germany when there is a conference." He continued and she shook her head in disbelief. She pointed to another location on the map.
"This time, Lucina, I would like for you to try and speak the name of the country."
Instantly, Lucina felt nervous. After almost two years, it was really difficult to start talking again, even when she really wanted to. Her vision blurred as she looked over the globe. Remembering his advice, she took another deep breath.
"Ch-chi-" She huffed in frustration.
"Go on, you're very close." Dr Kreizler said encouragingly and Lucina plucked up her courage.
"Chi-na" She whispered hoarsely and felt his hand pat her gently on the shoulder. She looked to him and smiled at the pride on his face.
"Once more, with feeling." He said and she nodded.
"China." She said with more confidence.
"Excellent, Lucina. Truly excellent. Now, do you think you can try two more countries? Then we can finish for the day." He promised and she felt relief that the ordeal would soon be over. She scanned the globe for another country. Remembering their earlier conversation, she turned the orb over.
"Ger-ma-ny." She said haltingly.
"Again, bitte." She giggled as his accent thickened. His eyes were happy and she liked that. She hoped Dora wouldn't let him get away.
"Ger-many." She repeated, faltering a little in the middle.
"Well done. And one last one."
She spun the globe freely, closing her eyes and letting her finger land on a country at random. Upon opening her eyes, she shook her head in disbelief.
"Aus-tray-li-a." She sounded it out slowly. She waited for his praise, but he merely quirked a brow at her.
"Aust-RAY-lia. Australia!"
"Bravo!"
She clapped excitedly before stepping away, feeling very accomplished. Dr Kreizler picked up the globe and returned it to its proper place on the bookshelf. He then moved to his desk and made a few notes in his notebook. After a moment, he glanced up at her.
"Oh, of course, as promised Lucina, you are free to go. You've done some great work today." He said and she curtsied prettily before moving to the door, throwing it open and running to find Ruby.
—
Pandora stood on the front step of a charming red-bricked home on the Upper East Side. There were a few spidery fingers of ivy trailing their way up the front of the building, but otherwise it was neat and not that much different from the others around her. She quickly checked that the number on the door matched what was written on the card Sara had given her earlier in the week then, before she lost her nerve, pulled on the door bell. She heard movement from within and a moment later the door opened to reveal a maid.
"Yes, Miss?" The maid asked politely and Pandora smiled.
"Good morning, my name is Dr Pandora Mitchell. I… attended to Miss Howard in the park the other day, when she was hurt. I'm just calling by to ensure she is well." Pandora explained and the maid smiled gratefully.
"Oh, of course, Dr Mitchell. Thank you ever so much for your help. Please come inside." She said and stepped aside to let Pandora into the house. Pandora thanked her and entered. The maid offered to take her coat and Pandora shrugged out of it.
"Miss Howard is in the salon, just down that hall." The maid informed her and Pandora made her way down the narrow hallway. Approaching the salon, she peered inside and spotted a familiar blonde woman sitting quietly at a writing desk.
"Who was it?" She asked without looking up and Pandora chuckled.
"Bad company I hope." She joked and Sara's eyes shot up instantly. She put down her pen and stood, walking towards Pandora with a genuine smile. Pandora was glad to see that the bandage was gone and Sara's head wound looked to be clean and healing nicely.
"Pandora! How nice of you to stop by."
"I hope I'm not intruding?" Pandora asked and Sara shook her head.
"Not at all, I'm just tabling some correspondence for my investigation bureau. Please, come sit down." Pandora was guided to a plush blue lounge.
"Clara, would you bring us some tea?" Sara asked and the maid, who Pandora hadn't even noticed enter the room, nodded.
"Of course, Miss, anything in particular?" Sara looked to Pandora who chuckled.
"Oolong is best for this time of the day. However, if you cannot find that, I'll take whatever you have."
"I'll see what I can find, Miss." Clara said and exited the room. Pandora turned back to Sara.
"Your wound seems to be improving." She stated and Sara smiled, reaching up to touch the graze delicately.
"Yes, all thanks to your excellent medical skills." Pandora blushed.
"My doctor friend was most impressed."
"Oh, is that who you were meeting?" Sara nodded.
"Yes, I believe you know him actually. Dr Laszlo Kreizler." Pandora felt a small, embarrassed tug in her core. Of course she would make friends with someone he knew.
"Ah, yes. He is actually the reason why Lucina and I have come to New York." Pandora said sheepishly, to which Sara settled back into a matching blue armchair.
"He's a fascinating man, isn't he?" Sara mused and Pandora nodded.
"He's… unlike anyone I've ever met." She admitted and the other woman sent her a knowing look.
"Oh, I know what you mean. There was a time when I thought myself in love with him." Pandora choked a little.
"Well, that's not-"
"Oh, but, that is all ancient history now." Sara continued and Pandora couldn't help feeling a little relieved.
"it doesn't stop me being impressed by his work. Last year, he was instrumental in helping the department catch a sadistic child murderer. I doubt my soon-to-be-ex-colleagues would have caught the man without him."
Pandora thought back on the drawings she had seen at the Institute. Goodness, how horrible.
"That must have been difficult to see." She murmured and Sara grimaced.
"I think it will stay with me for the rest of my life."
The two women sat in silence for a moment.
"Does Dr Kreizler often liaise with the department?" Pandora asked and Sara shook her head.
"No, only when something piques his interest, or Commissioner Roosevelt personally requests his advice. He devotes most of his time to those poor children of his." Sara confirmed and Pandora exhaled softly. Clara returned with a tea tray loaded with a full silver service. She settled it on the coffee table and expertly set about preparing their tea. When she was done, Pandora took up her cup, breathing in the familiar, soothing scent of tea.
"Thank you." She murmured and Clara curtsied before leaving them to talk. Pandora poured a splash of milk into her cup and lifted it to her lips. It was a plain old black tea, but perfectly fine for their purposes.
"I will actually be seeing Dr Kreizler and my… friend, Mr John Moore, for dinner next week. Perhaps you would join us?" Sara enquired and Pandora felt herself nodding.
"I'd be delighted." She said and Sara grinned, bringing her own cup to her lips.
"Excellent, I'll have the details sent to your hotel. How are you finding the Paragon, by the way?" Pandora laughed.
"I found no less than two sets peep holes in my suite and I am almost certain that there is a secret passageway behind the bathroom mirror." Pandora mused, much to Sara's amusement.
"Although, thankfully they seem to have been boarded up."
"It has a history." Sara teased and Pandora laughed.
"Why, that is precisely why I chose it."
"Dr Kreizler would probably suggest that there is reason for that." Sara said and Pandora choked a little on her tea. Sara laughed and handed her a serviette.
"It's a little game of his, I think. It seems to help him get through conversations he would rather not be a part of." Pandora tried not to think back on her unconscionable conduct on Monday, when she had all but flirted with him after having only known him for a day. If she didn't get her act together, he was surely going to think she was an ill-mannered hussy.
"I'll bare that in mind." She murmured and Sara's eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement.
They conversed for a time, getting to know one another a little better. Pandora learned of Sara's early orphaned status and, in the spirit of fairness, relayed the loss of her own parents in a fire. While painful, it was nice to speak about her parents to someone who wasn't just looking to dissect the tragedy for the purposes of diagnosing Lucina. Instead, Sara was openly sympathetic, reaching out to pat Pandora's hand gently when the memories became a little difficult. She revealed that her own father had met a tragic end as well, although Pandora chose not to pursue the exact nature of the gunshot that took his life. By the time the sun set, they had discovered that not only were they similarly orphaned and independent in the world, but they also shared several interests, including music, horse riding and the works of the Bronte sisters.
"I always appreciate that Bonte heroines are women first, not just a romantic lead or tragic victim. They are fully fleshed, with all the foils and triumphs that come with that." Sara said and Pandora nodded.
"I can still recall the first time I read Jane Eyre, I think I was 12, and I realised that Jane sounded just like me. She put my feelings into words in a way I hadn't even known was possible. 'I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will." Pandora quoted and Sara raised a glass of sherry in salute.
"Here's to being free human beings with independent wills." She toasted and Pandora clicked her glass. They drank and laughed. Pandora sighed, unable to recall the last time that she had been so at ease. She was about to speak when the door bell rang. She looked to Sara, who frowned slightly. Moments later, Clara appeared followed by Mr Moore, who looked a little abashed to see them both there. His eyes rested on Sara and Pandora deduced in an instant that the poor man was head over heels for her.
"Ah, good evening ladies." He said sheepishly and Pandora lifted a hand in greeting.
"Sara, I'm sorry to disturb you, I was wondering- well, that is-" The poor man looked about ready to expire and Pandora took pity on him.
"Would you care to join us Mr Moore?" She asked and Sara threw her a glance.
"I wouldn't want to intrude." He mumbled and Sara shook her head.
"Nonsense, John, please sit down." She said and he did as bid. There was a drawing pad under his arm.
"You're an artist, Mr Moore." Pandora observed and the brown-haired man flashed her a wide smile. He was rather dashing. But a little too loud her taste.
"Yes, although my talents often go a little to waste." He lamented and she smirked.
"Oh, and what do you usually seek to draw?" She asked curiously, sending an amused look at Sara, who rolled her eyes.
"Portraits." Mr Moore replied and took out his notepad. He opened it and presented it to her. She looked over his sketches, some of them actually rather good, others perhaps a little to the fanciful side.
"You have the most curious expression when you concentrate, Dr Mitchell." John observed and Pandora looked up at him.
"I would very much like to capture it." He continued and Pandora blushed.
"Oh, no. I don't really like sitting for portraits." She said but Sara laughed.
"Oh, do let him, Pandora, he'll be insufferable unless you let him." She cautioned and Pandora relented reluctantly. John grinned and pulled out a charcoal.
"Now, concentrate on something." He ordered teasingly and Pandora tried (and failed) to find something to focus on.
"Oh, I have an idea." Sara said and walked to her bookshelf, running a hand over the spines until she found the right novel. She strode over and handed Pandora a well-worn copy of Jane Eyre. Pandora opened the book and balanced it on the arm rest of the lounge. She pretended to read, then actually found herself being draw into the familiar story. It seemed only a small amount of time had passed when John announced that he was finished. Pandora stood and came over to see the result. She chuckled, recognising herself instantly. He had accurately captured the shape of her face and the angle of her head. The Pandora in the image was slouched comfortably against the arm rest, her gaze fixed on the book in her hand. There was even a small furrow between her eyebrows, which always happened when she was deep in thought.
"That is rather good, Mr Moore." She admitted and he preened.
"Well, you're an easy sit. With more time, I could turn it into something proper." He said and she shook her head. Handing the book back to Sara, she decided that she would leave them to it.
"Well, Sara, it has been lovely. I think I may head back to the hotel." She said and Mr Moore looked ashamed.
"Oh please, do not leave on my account." He protested but Pandora waved him off.
"No, it's alright. Sara will be inviting me to dinner next week, so I wil be seeing her shortly."
"And our resident alienist, Dr Kreizler." Mr Moore surmised, a funny expression on his face.
"Why, yes, I believe so." Pandora said, trying to hide her nervousness.
"You know, the opera is another must while you're here in New York, Dr Mitchell." Mr Moore said slyly and Pandora smiled.
"Please, call me Pandora." She requested and he nodded.
"Well, then you must call me John." He said and they shook hands as though meeting for the first time.
"So, the opera?" She asked and he nodded.
"Oh yes, I can't stand it, but Laszlo is quite the admirer. Perhaps you could put me out of my misery and accompany him some time?" John pleaded and Pandora laughed.
"For you, John, anything?" Sara snorted.
"Please, don't. He'll hold you to that." She warned and Pandora embraced her new friend warmly.
"Do you wish for me to stay?" She whispered in Sara's ear and the other woman considered it for a moment.
"No, I'll be alright here with John." Sara said finally and Pandora nodded, drawing back without letting anything show.
"Well, thank you for your wonderful hospitality, please send those details to the hotel." She said and Sara nodded.
Clara appeared with Pandora's coat. As Pandora left, she looked back to see the two sitting beside one another, the very picture of propriety. John's eyes were on Sara and Sara was pretending to examine the fine etchings of her wine glass.
"Thank you Clara." She said to the maid as she stepped out onto the street. Clara bobbed and closed the door gently. Pandora turned away and, noticing the pleasantness of the evening, decided to walk back to the Paragon. She wandered slowly, taking in the sites and sounds of the city as sunset turned to evening. Lamp lighters were making quick work of the many gas lamps around the area and, as dark as it was getting, there was still plenty of light to see by. Pandora noticed a young couple, walking arm in arm, coming towards her. They weren't speaking, but their eyes said everything. She smiled and stepped aside to let the lovebirds by, trying to quell the sudden spring of loneliness that washed over her. She walked on until she reached Central Park. The Paragon was not far but she didn't quite feel like returning just yet. She decided to walk a while in the park to rid herself of the last traces of energy for the day. She crossed the street and entered the park, which was far less busy than it had been on Monday afternoon. It was very peaceful. She could hear bird nesting in the trees and the the sweet aromas of flowers drifted lazily on the breeze. Pandora let her guard down a little and wandered aimlessly.
"Don't move." She suddenly heard a voice mutter from behind her and Pandora stopped, her hand instinctively reaching for her reticule.
"I'll take that." The man continued and Pandora huffed. She turned on her heel to tell the person off and was met with the sight of a man, a good head taller than herself, his face shrouded by a high collar and scarf. In his hand, however, a pistol was pointed straight at the centre of her chest.
"You don't want to do this." She reasoned and he laughed, although it wasn't a friendly sound. Despite the danger, Pandora's mind was calm. She had two options, bluff or follow through. She decided to try the former.
"Oh, I promise you, my husband will be quite unhappy if he finds you accosting me like this. In fact, I imagine he's almost her." She said confidently, lifting her gaze to his. He had green eyes and a single dark mole just beside his left eyebrow. She noted that for later.
"I don't think so." The man murmured and she inhaled, folding her arms over her chest.
"Good thing it doesn't matter what you think." She continued rudely and his eyes flashed angrily. He cocked the gun menacingly. She looked down at it, then back to him.
"If you really meant to shoot me, you would have done so by now." She informed him cooly, stumbling a little as he shove forward, making a lunge for her reticule. At the last moment, she twisted and he tumbled past her. She took her opportunity and started to run, cursing that she'd worn her new boots to Sara's instead of her regular, sensible ones. She could hear the man just behind her and his hand closed on her arm. She tensed instinctively and he took the advantage, tackling ehr to the ground. She landed hard, feeling the wind leave her. Gasping, she struggled to see straight. She felt him tug at her reticule and wrench it from her grasp.
"Oi!" A loud voice called out from the distance and the man disappeared. Pandora sat up shakily, looking towards the voice. As she recovered her breath, a boy stepped into view. He was tall, fair-faced and brown curls bounced beneath a patched cap he wore at a slight angle. He ran to her, gently helping her to her feet.
"Are you alright?" He asked and she nodded, wheezing heavily.
"He just… knocked the… wind out… of me." She told him and the boy looked towards where the man had disappeared. He walked away and inspected the area. He looked back to her and shrugged.
"He's gone, ma'am." He confirmed and Pandora groaned. Great, not even a week in New York and she'd already had something stolen.
"He took my reticule." She said with annoyance and the young man frowned.
"He could have taken a lot more." He replied honestly and Pandora paused. She considered, for the first time, another consequence of their interaction that she hadn't thought of. She shivered.
"Indeed. Thank you for coming when you did, Mr…"
"Taggart, Stevie Taggart."
"Well, thank you. I'm Pandora, Pandora Mitchell." She introduced and he nodded.
"My boss has a telephone that you could use to contact the police. They can keep a look out for your things." He said helpfully and Pandora was grateful for his quick thinking. Most of her items could be replaced, except maybe the notebook. Hopefully the robber would just dump it and the reticule somewhere when he realised all the cash was gone.
"Thank you, that's very kind Mr Taggart." She said and he laughed.
"Stevie, no one calls me Mr Taggart, unless they're trying to pull a fast one." He said and Pandora laughed. She indicated for him to lead the way, stopping only to scoop up her hat from where it had fallen during her scuffle with the robber. The pair walked on in genteel silence, exiting Central Park and crossing back into the urban sprawl of town houses. Pandora felt her ankle start to ache as they continued. It was likely that she had sprained it during the fight, although how, she wasn't completely sure. As she started to limp, Stevie stopped.
"Alright, I think I've sprained my ankle." She informed him and he looked concerned. He glanced up the street.
"Not far to go, ma'am." He promised and she nodded.
"How would you like me to help?" He asked and she appreciated his sensitivity.
"Let's just take it slowly and see what happens." She said and they set off again, Pandora placing most of her weight on her left foot and wincing as flares of pain rolled up her other leg. Painfully, they made their way along the row of townhouses until, finally, they reached Stevie's boss's house. He ran up the stairs and bashed on the door loudly. Pandora took a moment to lean against the fence and wipe sweat from her forehead. After a moment, the door opened and she looked up to see Dr Kreizler standing in the doorway.
"Dr Mitchell!" He exclaimed, hurrying down the stairs. Pandora chuckled.
"Good evening, Dr Kreizler. I simply couldn't wait until Sunday to see you." She blurted out as he approached, mentally kicking herself as the words left her lips. She was, however, a little pleased to see his cheeks redden. Clearing his throat, Dr Kreizler looked between her and Stevie.
"What happened?" He asked and the young man pointed down the road.
"She was attacked in the park. I was going to go after the guy, 'cause he took off with her bag, but he knocked her down so I stayed to make sure she was alright." Stevie explained and Dr Kreizler clapped him on the shoulder fondly.
"You did the right thing, Stevie." He said seriously and the boy smiled.
"Go fetch my medical bag please, and meet us in my office." Dr Kreizler ordered and Stevie did as he was told, running up the steps and disappearing into the house.
"He's a nice boy." Pandora said and Dr Kreizler nodded.
"Yes, and thank goodness he was there to help. Are you alright, Dr Mitchell?"
"I appear to have sprained my ankle. Apart from that, I will be fine." She said and his gaze flicked to her right leg, which she was avoiding putting any weight on.
"May I?" He asked politely, offering her his left arm and she paused.
"Yes." She said finally and he gently circled his left arm around her waist. She could feel the his heat through her clothes and avoided looking directly at him, afraid he would see how much of an effect he had on her.
"Put your arm around my shoulders." He told her and she did so without protest. He helped ease her weight off her good leg and she sighed with relief. They hobbled forward together, up the steps and into the house. Slowly, he guided her through the entrance hall and off to a beautifully furnished room that Pandora took to be his study. It was cozy but practical, the walls lined in both beautiful artworks and bookshelves. A piano-forte stood in one corner and an empty fireplace on another side. It suited him.
He helped her over to a dark coloured chaisse lounge. As he attempted to guide her onto it, he slipped. Without her other leg for support and with most of her weight on him, Pandora both her balance and fell back onto the lounge, pulling him with her. He landed on top of her, with his arm pinned under her waist. Their faces were only a few centimeters apart and Pandora felt her view narrow to just his eyes, large and brown, peering directly into hers. Something flickered in those depths, something primal. Heat flared in her core and Pandora's breath hitched. For a moment the world froze.
"My apologies, Dr Mitchell."
In a flash, the spell was broken and Dr Kreizler was pulling away. Pandora tried to get her breath back, lifting herself off the lounge as best she could to release his arm from beneath her. The feel of his arm sent shivers down her spine and, hoping he hadn't noticed, she self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"We seem to be making a habit of this." She observed, trying to lighten the tension.
"Indeed, not that I mind." She stared at him.
"I mean, uh, seeing you that is. Not, um-"
The normally composed doctor was flushed and his whole posture screamed his discomfort. Maybe he wasn't so immune to her after all. Pandora took pity on him.
"I believe I may need some ice for this ankle." He stood up immediately.
"Of course, I'll fetch some." He all but ran from the room and Pandora fought to contain the giggles that threatened to spill out of her. Needing something to do with her hands, she reached down to start unlacing her right boot. She worked the buttons until it was loose enough to slip off. Even with her stockings on, she could see the swelling around her ankle. Definitely sprained. She sighed. She looked up as Stevie entered the room, carrying a leather case. He stopped short when he saw that Dr Kreizler was no longer in the room.
"He's gone to fetch some ice for my ankle." She explained and he relaxed, coming forward to set the bag down.
"He called you doctor, so I imagine you may know what to do with this." Stevie said, handing her the bag.
"Thank you, Stevie." She said gratefully and he flushed.
"And thank you for your help in the park. That was extremely brave and I'm very grateful."
"It's nothin'" He said sheepishly.
"All the same, I really appreciate it." She continued, before opening the medical bag. She noted bandages, a tool case and a collection of vials. Eagerly, she perused the vials, but only found morphine. The pain in her ankle was increasing steadily so she set about carefully wrapping it in the bandages, trying to keep the swelling to a minimum. She showed Stevie, who was watching with interest, the correct way to bandage a joint and got him to practice on his own wrist with another bandage. He'd just tied off his wrappings when Dr Kreizler rentered the room. Vastly more composed that before he was carrying what appeared to be a metal champagne bucket filled with ice. He also carried a glass of water. He handed both to her and she drank the water gratefully, having not realised how thirsty she was.
"Thank you." She murmured. He waved her off, his gaze not quite meeting hers.
"That is well done, Stevie." Dr Kreizler observed, looking at the boy's wrapped wrist.
"Dr Mitchell showed me." He said proudly and Dr Kreizler grinned.
"You had an excellent teacher then." He said and Pandora smiled.
"Stevie, may I have that bandage back?" She asked and the boy quickly unwrapped the cloth. Pandora quickly grabbed a few fistfuls of ice and deposited them into the empty wrappings. When she was sure none would escape, she pressed the ice to her ankle, hissing as the cold sensation connected with her heated skin.
"I have notified the local constabulary of the theft, they advised you to come by the station to provide a statement." Dr Kreizler advised and Pandora nodded.
"Very well. I appreciate you doing that."
"It is my pleasure."
They finally looked at each other again, then away. Stevie coughed.
"If that's all…?" He asked and Dr Kreizler nodded.
"Yes, of course. Go on now Stevie, I'll call Dr Mitchell a cab soon." He said.
Stevie took his cap off and nodded to Pandora, before wishing her a good evening and departing. Silence reigned for a long minute. Pandora could hear her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. She wondered if he could hear it.
"What happened?" He asked and Pandora exhaled heavily.
"I was walking home from a friend's. It was only just going dark and all the gas lights were on so, I figured, since the weather has been so pleasant here, I had a little more time to spend outside. I went to walk back to the hotel through the park and-" She stopped, suddenly angry at herself for being so stupid as to forget her surroundings.
"I didn't even notice he was there until he spoke. He was right behind me and I never even knew. Not until the gun was at my back. There was no one around. He could have murdered me, or raped me, and no one would have seen or heard a thing." She faltered, unable to keep the horror from her voice.
"He didn't…" Dr Kreizler's face was full of concern and he trailed off, seemingly unable to finish.
"No. He didn't." She tilted her head to force eye contact with him.
"He didn't. I confronted him and I don't think he was expecting that. He just wanted my reticule." Dr Kreizler let out a deep sigh of relief. The tension faded somewhat from his face.
"Gut." He murmured, more to himself than to her. He turned back to her.
"You are welcome to stay here as long as you need. That ankle looks quite painful, so a little rest would not go astray. I can call a cab to take you back to your hotel whenever you like." He told her and she grasped his hand gently.
"Thank you. I find myself in need of pressing on your hospitality for a little while longer, just to collect myself and make sure nothing is broken. I will have some nasty bruises tomorrow and some shattered pride, but it is nothing that cannot be fixed in time." She assured him and he chuckled. Her eyes flicked back to his bag. To the vials she had seen.
"Actually, I have some pain here." She said, indicating to her side.
"You don't happen to have anything to tide me over for the evening?"
It was a half truth. Her chest was still a little sore from her fall, but nothing that would prevent her from sleep later. She just needed an excuse. He gazed at her for a moment then reached into the bag and, after rummaging inside for a moment, pulled out the vial of morphine she had spotted early.
"Here," He said, handing her the vial and a small pipette. She took them and quickly opened the vial, willing her hands to stop shaking. Carefully, she drew up a small amount of the clear liquid. All the while, he watched her. She cleared her throat roughly.
"I feel like I'm back in university." She declared and he chuckled, before standing and turning his back.
"Better?" He asked and she quickly deposited several drops onto her tongue. Squeezing the remainder back into the bottle, she rescrewed the lid.
"Done." She said and he glanced at her. She offered him back the vial, which he took and placed back into his bag.
"Have you eaten?" He asked and she shook her head.
"No."
"Well, I'm not certain what we have, but I can bring you something if you like?" He offered and she was touched.
"That's very kind." Her stomach rumbled and she blushed.
"And apparently necessary." He remarked with a smirk. He beckoned for her to lie down and she did so, balancing the ice bandage on her ankle and settling back into the chaisse. It was quite comfortable here. Her eyes drifted close…
—
Laszlo stood in the kitchen, hand pressed to the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. From the moment he'd laid eyes on Pandora Mitchell, he knew he was in trouble. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. No, he had known many beautiful women. He liked her intelligence and her firm sense of independence. He liked the way that her eyes lit up when she was teasing him. He liked talking with her and the little moments of flirtation, however inappropriate, that they shared. He liked… the feel of her body pressed to his.
"Mein Got." Evening thinking of it had him in a bind. He inhaled sharply, running his left hand harriedly through his hair. If he hadn't been approaching forty, he would have mistook himself for a besotted school boy. This was ridiculous.
"Food!" He declared to the empty kitchen.
Searching the cupboards, he found a few basic ingredients. As he dumped the rice, milk and sugar into a pot and lit the stove, he looked about for the spice rack. Leaving the pot to boil, he located some cinnamon and nutmeg. Returning to his concoction, he sprinkled in a generous amount. As he waited for the milchreis to thicken he thought back on the last time he had eaten it. His mind drifted to the woman upstairs in his office and how nice it was to have a woman in the house again. Almost instantly, grief crashed over him like a wave.
"Oh, Mary." He murmured, trying to summon her face in his mind's eye. Perhaps that's all this was. A temporary infatuation following intense grief. Dr Mitchell was the first woman he had met since Mary's death who wasn't a colleague or client. It was only natural that, in his emotional state, yearned for some sort of connection… even a sexual one. There was nothing objectively wrong with that, so long as he didn't embarrass himself or Dr Mitchell. She was, after all, still a lady and, he supposed, he considered himself something of a gentleman.
And yet, his attraction to Dr Mitchell wasn't purely physical. He was fascinated by her neurologist mind and the vast wealth of experiences she had accumulated in her life. He was touched by the tenderness she openly expressed for Lucina and little Anthony. She was, in many ways, his counterpart. Was it any wonder he was drawn to her?
The sound of spitting made him look down to see the milchreis bumbling thickly in the pot. He brought it away from the stove, set it down on the wooden bench and used a spoon to stir it to the right consistency. He tasted it. Something was missing.
"Hm…" He gasped around, then smiled as he noticed the honey pot by the windowsill. He poured the mixture into two bowls and drizzling them with honey. He managed to locate a bread board, which he figured could suffice for a service tray, and - balancing the make-shift tray between his hip and his good hand - made his way carefully back into the house. As he approached his office, he noticed that it was very quiet. Perhaps she had already left? He imagined that two incidences in a week, for a woman as proud as she, was likely to have an effect on her psyche. The question was, was her instinct to fight, flight or freeze?
"Dr Mitchell?" He called quietly as he entered.
He noticed her immediately, exactly where he had left her, except her eyes were closed and her face was a picture of perfect peace. Her auburn hair was spilling out of the stylish updo that she had arranged it in that morning, creating a sort of halo around her face. If her chest hadn't been rising and falling, he could have mistaken her for a figure in a Di Vinci tableau. He walked gingerly to the chaisse lounge and set the board on the floor. He then crouched beside Dr Mitchell, unable to bring himself to disturb her. Unthinkingly, his fingers traced a single luminous curl, relishing in its softness. The instinct to run his hands through her hair was almost overpowering. Shaking himself, he whispered to her.
"Dr Mitchell? Dr Mitchell." No response.
"Pandora." She stirred sleepily, her brow furrowing. Her eyes fluttered open and a soft smile filtered across her face. Then she woke properly and her happy expression faded. He felt the loss keenly.
"Oh, my apologies, I must have fallen asleep." She said and he nodded.
"Yes, but that's completely understandable after the evening you have had." He inclined his head to the tray where the milchreis cooled.
"I've brought you a light supper." Her smile returned as she spotted the food. She inhaled as though she could smell the cinnamon from here. Without a word, she tossed a cushion onto the floor. He watched her in bemusement.
"Dr Mitchell…"
"Care to join me?" She asked, patting the cushion on the ground beside her.
Laszlo shrugged and carefully, conscious of his bad arm, settled down beside the chaisse on the floor. He sat with his back resting against the seat of the lounge, legs outstretched. He leaned forward and passed her up one of the bowls and spoons, before taking the other.
"What is it?" She asked curiously.
"Milchreis, it is a kind of rice pudding. My mother used to make it for me whenever I was unwell or did not feel like eating." He said, thinking back on his mother and kinder memories. Looking back to Dr Mitchell, he saw that her eyes were crinkled happily.
"My mother used to make sago pudding. It's similar to this, but made with tapioca. Similar concept for a similar problem." She said and Laszlo smiled.
"Well, I hope mine measures up. Guten essen." He said and she tucked in. On her first spoonful, her eyes closed and she sighed happily.
"Delicious." She said and Laszlo swelled with pride. He started to eat, a little awkwardly, since he had to balance the bowl on his lap and eat with just one hand.
Thankfully, she hadn't seemed to be lying to make him feel better. It was creamy, milky and sweet. Just the thing to soothe the soul after a troubled day. They spoke about Lucina and her progress throughout the week. Dr Mitchell was happy to hear that Lucina had managed to get a few words out in only two sessions.
"It's early days." He said and she nodded.
"There may be periods of regression, where she falls back onto hold habits, but for now she is willing to try and the most important thing we can do for her is support her while she rediscovers her voice."
"She loves flowers, the colour pink and horses." Dr Mitchell said and Laszlo noted this.
"Riding was a great passion of our father's and he managed to teach both of us before he passed."
"And what of her dislikes?" He prompted and she sighed.
"Lucy hates travelling on boats, it makes her seasick. I don't think she's fond of reptiles - we had a lot of snakes on the property in Australia which I'm sure she was warned away from as an infant, so that's probably why."
"What about lying?" He asked pointedly and watched her face carefully.
"Oh, back to that old chestnut." She breathed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back into the cushions.
"She hates it, probably more than anything else."
Laszlo had not expected Dr Mitchell to answer so frankly. Then again, she was exhausted, in pain and had just administered herself a dose of morphine. Perhaps she was a little more outside herself than usual. He decided not to take advantage of that. If he was to have her trust him, he couldn't steal her secrets while she was under the influence. Instead, he finished his meal and set the bowl aside. She did the same, handing her bowl back to him.
"You will have to make that sago pudding for me one day." Laszlo said finally and Dr Mitchell nodded.
"It's a date." She vowed. Laszlo could have shouted to the moon. He wondered if she really meant it, or whether his withered old heart was just desperate for more time with her.
"Truly?" He asked and she hummed happily.
"Absolutely."
He followed her example and leaned his head back against the lounge.
Had this lounge always been so comfortable? He pondered.
"Why are you so kind to us?"
Laszlo felt good mood evaporate as he caught the sadness in her voice. He wondered at the life she and Lucina must have lived, that she questioned simply acts of kindness from others.
"It costs me nothing to be kind, Dr Mitchell." He answered truthfully and felt her shake her head.
"Everything has a cost." She countered bitterly and he reached blindly for her fingers. When he found them, he entwined them between his and squeezed.
"Not everything. I have to believe that." He said and, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that she was staring at him.
"I didn't have you pegged as an optimist." She murmured and he shrugged.
"Would you prefer me as a cynic?" He asked, attempting a small joke. He was rewarded when she laughed.
"No, I've had more than enough of those. I like you exactly the way you are, Dr Kreizler."
They lapsed into a companionable silence that stretched out like taffy. Laszlo shook himself.
"I am quite exhausted, Dr Mitchell. Perhaps I should call that cab for you now?" He asked and she groaned softly.
"Oh, yes, very well. Ask for Keenan, if possible." She said and he went to take the supper things to the kitchen and ring a cab around. It wasn't long before a sharp rap came at the door and when he opened it, a bushy-eyebrowed man stood on his doorstep, black cap in hand.
"Cab for Dr Mitchell?" The driver asked.
"She'll be out shortly." Laszlo confirmed and the man nodded, stepping back and replacing his cap. Laszlo returned to his office to find Dr Mitchell struggling to replace her boot.
"I'm sure the world can forgive a lost shoe for one night." He said and she laughed, giving up.
"Shall we?" he asked and she nodded, slipping her arm delicately around his neck. He caught a whiff of that delectable perfum and his senses flared. He carefully placed his good arm around her waist and assisted her to her feet. They hobbled to the front door and, thankfully, Keenan came to aid him in carrying her down the front steps.
"Christ, Dr Mitchell, what have you dont?" He asked and she chuckled.
"Sprained my ankle, Mr Keenan. I'll be right as rain in a few days." The driver helped her up into the carriage and shut the door. Laszlo handed the man his fare.
"See her home safely please." He said and the other man nodded. With a crack of a whip, the carriage moved off into the darkness. Laszlo sighed and rentered the house, which - even in the middle of summer - somenow felt colder and lonelier than before.
—
The man watched her carriage pull away from the house. It rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. No matter, he knew where it was going and where she would be. He just had to be patient. That man though, he might be a problem. He'd seen the way she'd draped herself over him, fawning and simpering like the stupid slut that she was. His hands curled into fists. He didnt know this man, but he would.
And then… he would make him pay for touching what wasn't his.
Bum, bum, buuuuuuuuum! A little drama, a little tension, a little angst.
