Case Closed

• Eleven •

The Prof never cried. Never. In all the time she'd worked with him, he'd never broken down like this. She didn't know what to do.

"Give me a minute." His voice was thick. Somewhere deep down, her chest ached painfully.

He walked away from the bench and disappeared around a corner, out of her sight. The silence was almost oppressing, with only the distant sounds of the party to occasionally pierce it. Her heart however, thundered in her ears and pounded through her shaking body. Why did it affect her this much? There was an obvious answer, but she didn't want to admit it to herself. After five minutes, and the Prof had not returned, she called Florence, hoping for some kind of help.
It rung once, twice, six times with no reply. Please not yet, she prayed, before banishing the the thought from her head. Lifting her knees to her chest, she waited and waited, thinking that maybe he had just left her here alone, and wasn't planning on coming back for her. That wouldn't be a surprise, she had to admit.

Without a light, the darkness around her seemed to press in, overcoming everything else. She was so tired... Footsteps behind made her jerk awake.
"Hilda? What are you doing 'ere?"

"Oh, um, hi Lucy."

"Hi?"

"I was just taking a walk, after the party, you know?"

"No... I don't." Were all detectives crappy liars? That would make her one too. "Did you follow us?"

"O-Of course not! How dare you- you suggest that of me?"

Lucy almost laughed aloud. "This is private property. How did you get in if you weren't following us?"

"I... um... it's none of your business what I do in my free time! Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading home."

Watching her go, Lucy was stunned. Hilda could have heard anything they'd been saying. She could have seen the Prof wherever he'd gone - though she guessed Hilda would have been better comfort to him than she could. Having only known him a while, she had very little experience in this kind of situation with him. I should go find 'im, she thought. I can't just sit 'ere, what will he think of me? What would I think of myself? Yet by some incredible circumstance, she found herself unable to move from the bench, whether frozen with fear or cold she could not tell. Unknowing of what state she would find him in, and respecting that he had left to get away from her, it was best to stay put for just five more minutes, she decided. Those minutes were pure pain. Her racing heart did not calm, nor did her shaking hands. She wanted so, so badly to talk to someone, but she didn't know who. Helpless, she didn't move a muscle besides those in her chest, which she seemed to have little-to-no power over anyway. She couldn't bear it any longer.

"Prof?" It came out hoarse and scratchy. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Prof?" There was no reply, so she stood up and headed back towards the town. Hopefully some taxis would still be running, even at this time of night. Although , she didn't have much money, so it would be better to just head back to the Mystery Room and try to get some sleep there.

Back on the main streets, past the place where the car had been, she quickly discovered that there was not a single taxi bay within walking distance of the Prof's friends' house. She would have to wait for a bus that took her back to the office. Looking at the board, a bus was not due for another 45 minutes. She didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or cry. This night had taken a horrible, unexpected turn and she didn't know what to do...

The bench of the bus shelter was cold, hard metal. It seemed to reflect what she felt, cold, hard, but mainly, empty. Well, besides from the pain in her chest that did not want to leave, but rather stay and rip her apart from the inside. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't drag her thoughts away from the Prof and his apparent pain, that she seemed to have caused by asking too many questions. Cursing her own curiosity, she put her head against her arm, and closed her eyes...

"Miss? Miss?"

She snapped up. A pale light was making the sky rose-pink, and illuminating the buildings around her.

"You ok miss?" The young man appeared genuinely concerned for her, but why? Oh yeah, she was sitting in a bus shelter, wearing a sparkly dress with smudged make-up. She couldn't have been giving off a good impression.

"What? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Rough night?"

"No. Well, yes- but no. No, I'm fine. Where's the nearest taxi office?"

Following his instructions, she headed off down the street on wobbly legs, taking first a right, then two lefts. The taxi office was almost empty, as it should have been at that time in the morning, besides a young, drunk-looking couple and an older woman who was holding her map upside down. Luckily for her, the driver had no interest in conversation that morning, so left her to sit in silence for the half-hour journey back to the office. She spent most of it re-living the events of the past night and working out how she could get in and out of the office without being seen in such a state - in the end, running as fast as possible and not stopping for any reason seemed like the best course of action. From there, she could take some files back home, wash away the grime of the streets and eat some real food. It still felt weird that she had slept in a bus shelter,though for what must have only been four or five hours admittedly. In fact, what time had she finally fallen asleep? She had waited and waited for the promised 1:30 bus, which never came in the end, and remembered the feeling of dread, knowing that there would not be another until 5:30 the nex- Well, that morning. Finally deciding that she had dozed off at about 2:15, she clambered out of the taxi a couple of streets away from the office. Stopping outside would only draw more unwanted attention. She paid the driver before striding briskly towards the back entrance of the building. It was still not quite morning, meaning that the low light hid her as well as possible in a sparkly dress. It was a surprise she hadn't frozen overnight, if not caught pneumonia or some other horrible illness.

The back entrance let to a series of dimly-lit, narrow corridors, with doors leading off to various storerooms and spare, cramped offices. No-one was about, to her relief. She turned left at the next intersection and came to a flight of stairs, which she followed up 5 or 6 floors to reach the level of the Mystery Room. Now it was just a quick dash across the hallway and through the door, to privacy. 3.. 2.. 1... she ran for it. In three steps she was slamming the door behind her and- "Prof?!"

He was staring in surprise from the sofa at the door she had just come through. "Oh. Morning."

"Morning?!" The fury that had been building in her all night rose into her chest, replacing the dull ache with a raging fire. "You left me! You ran away, and you left me! And I couldn't get 'ome because there were no buses and you took your car so I 'ad to sleep in a bus shelter and it was cold and dark and I was scared for myself and for you because I didn't know what 'ad 'appened and I waited and waited and you didn't come back and- 'ow could you do that to me?"

His gaze couldn't quite meet her's.

"I'm sorry. I had to leave. I couldn't have you seeing... me like... like that." There it was again, the pain in her chest so strong she resisted the urge to hug herself tightly. That wouldn't have helped though. Unsurely, she stepped forward to put her bag down on the desk. He was less than a metre from her but still couldn't meet her eyes, so she sat down next to him. Surprise at her proximity registered on his face, but he didn't move away. Something about his body suggested he didn't want to. From this distance she could see the red in his eyes, and the pain.

It finally broke her, so she leant forward and hugged him. He didn't even flinch, just wrapped his arms back around her and they stayed, just like last night, together.