Chapter Text
III
Location: Londinium
Time: “26 days to SkyFall”, 8:00 am
Abel woke up when the sunlight peeked through the curtains. It seemed to be sunny today, probably a good weather day.
He got up and changed into his “priest” clothes. It was altered to have Albion’s coat of arms but the rest of the old design stayed, even his rosary. He had got used to the new life in Albion, acting as an honorary guest of Her Majesty.
His comrades who survived the Ark’s strike all left the Vatican to pledge loyalty to the Queen of Albion. That included all the remaining AX agents and brother Petros from the Inquisition. Though the whereabouts of the Duchess of Milan along with Gunslinger and Black Widow were still unclear. Esther once told him that intel from Germanicus reported some people looking fairly similar to those three appeared at the port a short time after the annihilation of Rome but Abel refused to believe those were really Duchess of Milan and her two guards. Why would they be on Germanicus’s land? But even the Professor confirmed them to be alive because he was with them in Milan when Rome was hit by the plasmonic laser, so they would still be alive even if they went missing not long after that. Tres would never let Caterina be assassinated that easily. But they wouldn’t have anything to do in Germanicus, would they?
A knock on the door pulled Abel out of his thoughts. Who even…?
“Nightroad, I know you are in there.” A thick Albion accent spoke from the other side of the door. “Come out and have breakfast, Her Majesty didn’t see you at the table and she was worried.”
Abel recognized that voice with ease.
“Yeah yeah just woken up, I will be there shortly, thanks for the call, Professor.” He replied while putting on the trousers.
“Oversleep again? Are you feeling alright there, Nightroad? This has been going on for a while now.” The middle-aged man outside asked with a frown in his voice. “I think you do really need a check-up.”
Abel hurried to finish dressing (because there were too many pieces to put on) and opened the door, only to be greeted with the smell of smoke.
“I think you are the one that needs a check-up more than me, Professor.” Waving his hands dramatically, Abel stepped out of the room. “-You are near your 50th birthday, old man, stop smoking for the sake of your lungs.
-It’s rude to call someone ‘old man’, Mr. Nightroad, whether they are really old or not.” The Professor swung his walking cane, which then ‘accidentally’ hit Abel’s right knee.
While Abel doubled up to cover his knee, the brunet breathed out the cigarette smoke then put the very well-polished pipe back to his mouth. William Walter Wordsworth, the man who was once a promising brilliant genius from Londinium University, now had finally been back to work for his home country, though no longer with the spark of joy he used to have. Abel had been secretly observing the man, but while having been re-adapted into the normal life of Albion, Wordsworth’s mental state didn’t seem to improvise, if not to say it had got even worse.
He seemed up-mood for today though, probably had an idea for what to do in the meantime.
“You have plans for the day, right?” Abel got back up and smoothened his clothes.
“Hmph, you suddenly became observative ever since regaining your memory, Nightroad?” The Professor puffed out some smoke and fixed his neck tie. “Out of the blue, the Queen had the idea to cook dinner by herself and she wanted us to go buy the groceries.”
And Abel couldn’t stare at the brunet with more intensity.
“-You aren’t serious, Professor.
-I am, as you can see, completely serious.
-No you aren’t. How could Her Majesty say that she wants to cook by herself after all these years?
-How could I even know? I was surprised too. But she looks very determined. So determined that if you give her a cow she would wrestle with it for milk right away.
-Urghhhhhhhhh… She hasn’t been cooking for ages, the first and last thing she ever made for me was peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Of all people, you should have tried to stop her from that idea!
-Nuh-uh, I am a gentleman, Mr. Nightroad, I am completely unable to deny such a pure-hearted wish and request.”
And with that, the Professor knocked out Abel on the boxing ring of argument.
Abel would have rolled his eyes to the back of his skull if he could, yet he took a deep breath and nodded.
“Well we should get going then. I hope we don’t look weird wearing full three-piece suits just to buy groceries.”
…
The sun was shining, birds were chirping.
It was a beautiful day in Londinium.
In fact, it was too beautiful to just go out and buy groceries.
“My belief in your story is starting to fade, Professor.” The taller man mumbled, pulling a foldable mini cart - the newest invention of Professor Wordsworth - full of groceries along.
They both turned their eyes towards the mount of groceries on the cart, it looked like hoarded food for the whole winter season.
“I do admit we may have bought too much. Let me check the list again.” The brunet fumbled around his pockets before pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper and straightened it a bit. “I think we bought like triple the amount required?”
And Abel could swear if he didn’t respect this man enough he would have thrown him to the Thames.
“-That was all my allowance for this month!!! How can you be so cruel?!?!
-It’s not that bad, Nightroad, you can take one third of all what we bought.
-And what would I even do with those???
-Well, it’s all food, you can eat them raw if you can’t cook…”
People who were in the area stared at the scene of the tall silver-haired man wearing royal Albion’s coat of arms crying and shaking a shorter brunet like a rag doll on the side of the street, it was fair to say this situation was so confusing no one knew if they should call the police or not.
After a while sobbing and screaming, Abel took back his posture because talking to the Professor was like talking to a brick wall sometimes, besides, it would be really embarrassing if he lost an argument to the big-brained brunet again.
William fixed his clothes and neck tie and turned to look at a newspaper stand, speaking nonchalantly. “Anyway, the Queen did say she would pay back all the cash paid for groceries…”
Abel looked up at the middle-aged man with both disbelief and joy. What was that? All his money would be returned? He didn’t need to live in poverty till the end of the month?
Lucky for him, the Professor was too hooked up in reading the titles of the newspapers displayed on the stand and didn’t see the pleading puppy face Abel made. However, just as Abel was about to say something…
“ABEL NIGHTROAD!”
A thunderous shout coming from the other end of the street made Abel jolt in shock.
The source of the shout came over, passing the bulging eyes staring at him from the bystanders. The towering man with long light blue hair wearing a huge modified armor with Albion’s coat of arms strode towards the silver-haired, holding two huge bags of groceries with him like they were just cotton bags.
“Why do you keep oversleeping like that? Do you know how Her Majesty was worried?” The man continued shouting at Abel as if talking normally wouldn’t have any effect. People around stopped staring at the man upon realizing who that was, Brother Petros Orsinis from the Vatican, now working for Queen of Albion as Her personal guard. Despite no longer working for the church, the man insisted himself to be addressed as Brother, saying “I swore to an oath and I would never drop it no matter what”. And just like keeping his oath, Petros continued his good work to help people in need on a daily basis, so almost everyone in the whole Albion country knew him whether they were the one he helped or the one he helped punishing.
“I am so sorry! I really was just not feeling well these days! I didn’t mean to upset Her Majesty at all!” Abel did a really honest dogeza (a pose of overarching kneeling) to show his sincere apology. Only for Petros to stomp on his back with the metallic boot.
“You pea-brained pathetic priest!” Petros clenched his fists, he didn’t bring his staff along as he was just going out for groceries or else this creature under his boot would get some heavy beating. “If you dare to make Her Majesty worried again, I will really skin you.”
With that, and Abel’s dogeza, and the sight of the foldable mini card full of groceries on a side, Brother Petros let go of the silver-haired.
“Seems like we are both on the same mission. To buy groceries for Her Majesty.” Petros looked into the grocery bag on the cart. “You probably have bought all that I didn’t. We should head back so the kitchen can help prepare the ingredients before Her Majesty is back.”
Abel nodded and got up, rubbing his stomped back. He would really need some ointment for the bruise there later. Perhaps he could ask the Professor…
“Huh? Where did the Professor go?” He asked, looking at the newspaper stand and the middle-aged man had seemingly poofed into thin air.
A small note with cursive handwriting could be seen on the pavement, the spot where the Professor stood just a while ago. Abel squinted his eyes to read, ‘Need to go to the loo, see you at the palace later. - WWW.’
“Well I guess he left me. We should just head back then. Shouldn’t let Esther wait.” Abel turned to Petros, grabbing at the handhold of the foldable mini cart and started walking.
Petros frowned at that, he was confused for sure. He took a very quick glance at the newspaper stand to read the titles - there was nothing interesting, just some crime news, world news or some quotes from cheesy novels upcoming - before turning to follow the former priest back to the Edinburg palace.
One page of a newspaper on the stand flew and landed right over the Professor’s note, the biggest title sounded like it was written especially for a certain someone.
“Are you still living in that dream of hers?”
…
He ran as if he did not run, someone he knew would die.
When it hit him, it hit like a truck.
“Are you still living in that dream of hers?” His eyes widened, starting to follow the direction of the pointing little hand sticker next to the line.
“A return to the “Great Detective Sherlock Holmes” apartment at 221B-Baker Street” There was another pointing hand, this time pointing up.
“25 is the lucky number of today” The small leaflet stuck on the glass window of the stand.
A shift of view point showed him the reflection of the background on the glass window.
On the other side of the street, a group of people were waiting for the red light to walk past. Amongst them stood a man in black mourning suit with glasses. He didn’t recognize the man until said man lifted up his top hat, showing his eyes behind the glasses.
Long, narrow and sharp jet black eyes, looking straight at his own eyes in the reflection of the glass.
William felt his heart racing so hard it could burst out of his chest in an instant. But then the gloomy man turned away and started walking towards the direction of the Thames instead of passing the street.
So William Walter Wordsworth quickly stuck a small note on the pavement where he just stood and started running.
“I’m not letting you slip away again, Butler!” The Professor bit his lower lip while rushing to where he believed that man would be.
Panting while climbing up the stairs, all he hoped for was that the ghost he was chasing would still be there when he arrived. It was like running a 100m race but the distance was multiplied by 10, and now the stairs. Why did they buy this apartment on the 4th floor of the building back then? And now he realized this place was abandoned for years after the whole scandal broke out, so there was a lot of dust. Heavy panting was already bad, now with dust, it became heavy coughing.
For one second, William wished he could have magic to teleport from here to there in a blink of an eye but then he swatted that thought away and climbed the last step to the fourth floor.
The apartment was just right there, in front of him now, the door slightly opened. He remembered every single detail, from the doorknob to the shoe rack. There should be a small carpet right behind the door to welcome him (if no one stole it already) along with a hangar that he polished with the coats and hats he wore in the day. Actually it wasn’t just him, there was the other owner of this apartment too.
The man that he should see upon walking past the door now.
Raising his hand towards the doorknob, William realized he was shaking, trembling even. It wasn’t because of fatigue for sure, more like because of anticipation mixed with hesitation. Was he ready to face that man again, after all those years searching and chasing? If he was in a passive position and that person came to see him first, catching him off guard, that would be more tolerable than this. However, he had come this far, there was no reason to turn back.
Thus, the Professor took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob and determinedly pushed the door open.
The carpet was still there, covered in dust. The hangar was still there, on the right side, dusty but overall not damaged anyhow, a black top hat and a black coat was hung on it. Nothing in the flat was changed according to William’s memory, they were just old and dusty and… abandoned.
“Like me.” William whispered as he put his coat and hat onto the hanger, the sight of them having a partner made his heart clench. Why did it become like this?!?!
Walking into the living room, the middle-aged man saw a tranquil scene that looked like a movie record from the past. The room was lit up by sunlight from the opened window, giving it the sepia color. Old tattered curtains gently swayed with the morning breeze. On the couch, a glassed young man with short black hair was sitting with his legs crossed elegantly, holding a newspaper in his hands. It was as if he just stepped back in time, 25 years ago.
“You seem to enjoy making people wait, Wordsworth.” The young, unaged man spoke, lifting his heavy jet-black eyes from the newspaper and glanced towards the middle-aged man standing like a statue at the entrance. “But that’s okay, we have all the time in the world.”