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Chapter Text

Despite what she’d said to Luke while his brain was frying, she didn’t actually have any intentions of killing him over a little snot on her jacket. Yes, it was super gross, but he was also one sick kid.

No, Emmy didn’t have any intention to cause any bodily harm to the twelve year old boy.

But when she wakes up the morning after his fever with a sore throat, her first thoughts are of going to Luke’s room and throttling him.

Groaning, she rolls over and presses her face into her pillow. Emmy is already feeling achy, which isn’t her favorite feeling. It’s different when she’s sore from training, because that’s proof she’s pushing herself. Her body just hurts for no reason right now.

She has a few options here. She can suck it up, take a whole bunch of medicine, and then pretend nothing is happening. That’s the ideal scenario here. The other option is sucking it up, taking a whole bunch of medicine, and letting everyone else know that she’s got a little fever. Of course, that comes with the risk of being pushed to rest and recover, and having everyone baby her like they did with Luke. No thank you, Emmy would much prefer simply riding it out.

Beating the flu is just a matter of willpower. All Emmy has to do is not sneeze on everything like Luke did. That should be easy, because she’s an adult.

As if to spite her, her body decides to sneeze hard enough to almost throw her out of bed.

This should be easy. Yes.

She takes her morning shower like usual, and who’s to say if she took a moment to just stand under the hot water? Who’s to say if she took a bit longer than usual to get properly dressed? Who’s to say if her fingers fumbled with her bowtie? Who’s to say if she held the table for support when she sat down?

Emmy was the first person there, so it wasn’t as if she’d taken too long.

“Ah, Miss Emmy. Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too, Raymond!” Emmy chirps as he sets down some french toast, “Thank you as always, it looks delicious!”

It’s not particularly appealing to her, even though it does look good. The sweet smell would usually have her drooling, but right now it just makes her nauseous.

“It’s all part of the job, but thank you.”

Humble as ever, he dismissed her praise.

“I ought to help you more in the kitchen, haha!” Unfortunately, the tail end of her laugh turns into a cough, but she holds it in and clears her throat.

“I would appreciate the company, but don’t feel obligated to help out, Miss Emmy. You’re a guest, after all.” Raymond follows the predictable pattern from every time they have this conversation. She offers help, he refuses, she insists, he ensures she doesn’t feel obligated. The familiar banter almost makes her forget about the persistent tickle in her throat.

Almost.

“By the way, where do you keep the medicine?”

“We have a medicine cabinet, but I will warn you that I typically have it locked. Did you need something?”

Without thinking she lies, “No, no. I just thought I’d like to have some on hand in case Luke still isn’t feeling too hot.”

Raymond hums a reply, something about waiting to see, but Emmy’s just doing her best to not cough until he’s out of the room. It’s a task that’s surprisingly hard, but she manages to stifle herself until he’s out to grab the maple syrup. Then and only then does she hack up a lung into her elbow. Today wasn’t going to be her day. At least by the time Luke stumbles into the dining area she has control of herself.

He appears to be doing much better than yesterday, which gives Emmy hope for her own condition. She had noticed that Luke was out of sorts even before he spilled the juice on the table, but she hadn’t thought he was sick. Even then, she did give him a break when he returned to the table. Luke tends to cry when he’s overwhelmed or upset, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Emmy will toe the line when annoying him, but she does rein herself in when he gets too riled up. She’s not good with tears.

Admittedly, she had been a bit annoyed with the boy the day prior. A fever wasn’t anything to be lazy over. Luckily, there was only a minor slip up on her part.

Emmy hadn’t thought to gauge the other’s reactions at first after taking Luke’s temperature. It was only 38.5 after all, and that was hardly something worth taking a rest over. Yet when she presented the thermometer to the professors, the reaction was that of immediate concern and care. Emmy was ordered to take the kid to his room.

Well, it was phrased as a question and not a command, but both of them were technically her superiors. There wasn’t any room for argument.

She was quick to correct herself and fall in line with the professors’ actions after catching her mistake. They gave him the king treatment as if he was on his deathbed.

Emmy could understand that the boy was exempted from sitting at the table during meals. It was meant to be a preventative measure, but clearly that hadn’t worked out.

More curious to Emmy was that Luke was excused from his chores for the day. Emmy didn’t comment on that.

She knows Luke’s parents. It’s clear they dote on him, that he’s treated softly and given much more leniency in his life. Nothing like her own upbringing in the Nest, where time off was a privilege meant for grave injuries. ‘Work it off’ was the motto for the sniffles, and even with Emmy’s position as the commander’s niece, she wasn’t an exception.

Emmy has grown to appreciate that notion. It bred self-sufficiency, even if she hated it when she was younger. It was all for the best.

And yet, Luke didn’t receive that same treatment. Not from his parents, not from his mentors, not from anyone, seemingly. Professor Layton didn’t act the same towards the boy that Uncle Leon did to her. Perhaps it was simply the nature of their relationship. Luke was a gentleman-in-training, not a soldier.

Still. He ought to toughen up. The real world won’t be so kind as to provide everything on a silver platter when he gets a sniffle. It’s better to learn that young.

“Morning, Emmy.” Luke is still in his pajamas as he sits to her right.

“Good morning. Feeling better?”

Luke nods. He doesn’t seem too awake, but at least he doesn’t have that glassy look from yesterday. The others trickle in, and the morning is rather quiet, almost similar to the day prior when Luke was too out of it to converse much. Emmy’s not in the mood to carry a conversation.

“And how are you feeling this morning, Luke? Better, I hope.” Sycamore asks as the boy is halfway through a bite, and Emmy crosses her fingers under the table. It’s not that she wants him to be sick. Not at all.

But it would be so much easier to acquire medicine that way. Why the hell does Raymond keep the medicine cabinet locked anyway?

“Much better!” Luke replies cheerfully, and Emmy forces a more genuine smile.

“That’s great! Do you need any medicine today? Your fever might be gone, but surely your nose must be bothering you.”

Emmy prays that Luke agrees.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

Goddamnit.

Emmy suffers through the rest of breakfast, contemplating on how to acquire antihistamines. She could puzzle out where the key to the cabinet was, steal it, and return it after successfully stealing medicine. But that’s only assuming she knows where the key is, that no one tracks how many pills are in the bottle, and that she can successfully take it without any of the other five people noticing her.

In her condition, she doesn’t like those odds.

And thus, she resigns herself to quiet suffering at the hands of her immune system. At this point, her best bet is to ask one of the professors for a book so she can hole herself in her room and pretend to read.

And yet, fate seems to be conspiring against her.

“We should be landing in less than an hour.”

Emmy tunes back in when she catches what Professor Sycamore says. “Hm?”

“In all the commotion yesterday, I forgot to inform everyone that we’d be spending a few hours on land. We’ll be off by tonight, but we need a bit of time to refuel the Bostonius.”

Perfect. Landing always entailed exploration, and she’d get dragged around for hours outside. To say that Emmy wasn’t in the mood would be an understatement, but it would be suspicious to the others if she tried to stay in for the day.

“Where in the world even are we?” Luke asks through a mouthful of sausage, to which Professor Layton gently chides him.

“The Bostonius will be parking at the dock in Woodsor. It’s a coastal town Southeast of Torrido. Large shipping industry, if I recall correctly.”

The name isn’t familiar, but Emmy prays it’s not nearly as hot as the other American town they’ve been to. She’s miserable enough as it is, she doesn’t need the sun frying her brain too.

At least they’ll speak English. She mentally adjusts her plan. Emmy will simply sneak off from the group when she finds a corner store, then rejoin like nothing happened after she buys cold medicine.

The rest of breakfast is spent pretty quietly, and Emmy collects their dishes to wash.

It’s something of a self-assigned chore, but she couldn’t break routine now. Emmy’s entire goal today was to act even more normal than usual. Aurora helps, gathering the cups and silverware like usual, but Emmy takes more trips than normal. It probably isn’t noticeable to anyone else, but Emmy is far too aware of the weakness she feels in her arms. For once, she isn't confident in her ability to balance all the plates and carry them in one trip. She tries, but her arms begin to shake.

She hates feeling weak. It’s disconcerting.

Emmy also hates doing the dishes in general; it’s her least favorite chore. She always has to use the rubber gloves, because the feeling of wet food on her hands makes her want to throw the plates at the wall. In her apartment, this was easily solved by using exclusively paper plates. Despite being on a plane, it seems Professor Sycamore insists on porcelain. How on earth the china isn't constantly shattering, Emmy will never know.

At least the Bostonius has a fancy dishwasher, so she doesn’t have to fully clean everything.

“You look upset.” Aurora places Luke’s cup into the sink, and Emmy hums. She must’ve been making a face.

“I’m not, don’t worry.” With a sigh, Emmy digs in the cabinet under the sink to get the sponge and gloves.

“Then why are you frowning?”

“It’s my resting face, Aurora.” Irritation thrums under her skin, but she isn’t going to yell at the girl. It’s only natural for Aurora to press about these things, given how new she is to this world. She often asks rather blunt questions, mystified by human behavior and expressions.

It wouldn’t be fair to get upset with her. And yet Emmy feels her ears flush as she’s being scrutinized by the smaller girl. She turns back to her task, trying to get it over with quickly.

“Your resting face is different. Right now you look like…” Aurora trails off, and Emmy glances back up to see that her face is pinched tightly.

The girl doesn’t typically express anything more than placidity, so the scowl is so unnatural that it forces a laugh out of her. Emmy’s lungs didn’t like that too much, spasming helpfully to remind her that she’s ill.

Emmy doubles over the sink, turning off the water and coughing loudly. She’s not thinking particularly about Aurora, even though she can see the blonde girl in her periphery. Tears burn in her eyes as she continues to cough.

The fit subsides as her vision starts to spot, and Emmy takes a few shallow breaths. She’d love to gasp for air, but that would risk sending her into another coughing fit.

“Emmy?”

Shit, Aurora.

“I’m fine, sorry.” Emmy says weakly as she straightens.

“Are you sure? You sounded like Luke, are you sick?”

Emmy clears her throat to rid it of phlegm. “No. Just choked on air, nothing serious.”

“If you’re certain.”

Emmy rushes to finish the dishes. Typically she would take longer and initiate some conversation with the emissary to distract herself, but she’d rather just get this over with. On her own, Aurora isn’t one to initiate without some kind of question. Emmy doesn’t like small talk, so they get along rather well in that regard.

By the time she starts up the dishwasher, Luke comes in to let her know that they're landing. She thanks him and makes some comment about grabbing her camera.

Truthfully, she just needs a second alone. Her social battery is at a low already, and she sighs as she sits back on her bed. Emmy hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, and it was somewhat relieving to her growing headache.

It’s more than just a minute that she ends up just sitting on top of her blankets. If she lays down, there’s no guarantee that her aching limbs would let her get back up again.

“C’mon, Emmeline. It’s just a few hours.” She slaps her cheeks and forces herself back up, grabbing her camera case from the bedside table and attaching it to her belt. It’s usually a comfortable weight on her hip, but it just feels a bit heavy now. Emmy must be weaker than she thought.

She idles in her room for another minute or two, adjusting her bowtie and checking herself in the mirror. It’s like an invisible force bars her from just grabbing the door handle and joining the others.

She has to go out eventually, or they’ll think something’s wrong with her. Yet even as she thinks about it, she doesnt stop looking at her reflection in the mirror on the bedside table. Her cheeks are flushed, but not extremely noticeably. Emmy could play it off as makeup if she wanted to.

The rest of her looks rather pale though, and her visage reflects how clammy she feels. Idly she runs a hand through her hair, twirling a curl around her finger. It’s gotten longer recently, and she wants to chop it all off. Her uncle would never allow it.

Emmy doesn’t want to go. She wants to just lay down and sleep off whatever bug Luke passed to her. That plan is shot already, which is incredibly unfortunate. The Bostonius begins its descent. and Emmy sighs again, sitting up and getting to the door.

All she had to do was survive a few hours in what was most likely a hot and humid small town while hiding an illness from her companions.

It was just like a mission! Emmy loves missions! Her hand hesitates on the doorknob nonetheless.

She prefers to try and be optimistic, but this certainly wouldn’t be a cake walk. She’d gone on Targent missions easier than this.

It was nothing that she hadn’t done before, though. Endurance was one of her strong suits. She just needed to hold up the facade for a few more hours until she could crash back in bed.

There’s a knock at the door, and Luke’s voice calls through, “Emmy, are you coming?”

It snaps her into action, and she finally opens the door. She pushes Luke’s cap over his eyes. “Yep.”

He squawks indignantly as she glides past him towards the living area, so she’s successfully distracted him from asking why she took so long.

She just has to make it for a few hours.

Chapter Text

Upon exiting the ship, Emmy was created with an overwhelming mix of sensory information.

The sun glinted brightly on the water and white sand, and the air was overwhelmingly salty on her tongue as they step down onto the docks. Waves lap at the pier, providing a nice cooling spray in contrast to the sun blaring down on them. It was quite hot outside, and Emmy has half a mind to step back inside and grab a sunhat. She tends to tan rather than burn, but Emmy doesn’t exactly want to take her chances. Luckily, the heat seems to be dry rather than humid.

Aurora stays to her side as Emmy trails a bit behind the others. She wears a thoughtful expression, and it piques her interest enough that she forgets just how miserable she’s feeling.

“Something wrong?”

The blonde shakes her head, “I just feel a bit odd.”

Emmy checks her forehead, but Aurora feels the same as ever. “Do you think you’re sick?” It wouldn’t be good to have the both of them incapacitated.

Not incapacitated. Emmy was fine. Perfectly capable of functioning.

“No. It almost feels like there’s an aura stone here, but it’s not quite the same.”

Professor Sycamore slows, turning his head back to look at them, which causes Luke to stop as well, and then theyre all stopped in the middle of the cobbled road.

“Do you believe there’s an azran relic in this town?”

Aurora looks away, seeming rather unsure, so Emmy shrugs in her place.

“Well that’s a lucky coincidence!” Luke chimes in, “Do you think you can do what you did in Kodh?”

“Ah, I’m not sure…”

And that’s how they end up wandering around town, talking to locals and asking about a potential ruin. Emmy doesn’t talk much, more focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ignoring the way her head pounds.

The next half hour is spent wandering aimlessly around the little town and getting fried by the sun. By the end of it, Emmy is feeling rather crabby. The whole thing is pointless, because no one seems to know a damn thing. They’re almost out of options, having talked to most locals with no luck. Mostly, they’ll express that they’re sorry, but a different person might know more. It’s a horrible goose chase, and no single person seems to know anything about the potential site, much less anything about the Azran.

They’d made their way back to the docks as a last hope, but found mostly travelers there. One name that kept popping up was ‘Old Man Tom’, who was rumored to spend his days fishing at the end of the pier. He was supposed to know everything about everyone, so he was their best shot at finding the ruin.

“I don’t know nothing,” says the fisherman gruffly when they interrupt him at the pier. He’s a burly man with graying hair, hunched over by the end of the dock. Tom doesn’t even turn to face them, just keeps staring at the bobber in the water. “Lally might know more.”

If Emmy was feeling a smidgen better, she might have tried kicking his teeth in.

“And where is ‘Lally?’” There’s a sharp edge in Professor Sycamore’s voice, and she feels a bit vindicated to know that he’s also sick of this.

Tom shrugs, “Not my kid to keep track of. Her daddy’s probably out at the saloon. Name’s Jack.”

The old man doesn’t give them any more information after that, and they’re once again trudging through town to find someone who probably doesn’t know anything.

The saloon is quaint, and rather similar to Torrido. In theory, it should be pretty empty. It’s the morning, after all, and no one should be drinking at this time.

“Ah.” Professor Sycamore hesitates, a hand on the door, “Should we be letting Luke and Aurora inside? It’s not exactly the most savory place for children.”

Luke, of course, protests immediately, “I’m not a kid, you know. And I went to the saloon in Torrido, remember?”

“Yes, well-”

“And I went to a casino before. In Monte D’Or.” His tone is almost boasting, and he turns to lock eyes with Emmy. “You remember. We all went to the casino, and there were no problems.”

Emmy flounders, not expecting to be used as backup. She turns to Professor Layton, who is conveniently studying the horizon instead of looking at them.

“I too would like to go.” Aurora pipes up, and Luke grabs her hand with a nod.

“See? And it’s not dangerous or anything.”

Luke ignores Professor Sycamore’s weak protest as he tugs Aurora through the swinging doors. Emmy shrugs and follows them. The lighting is rather dim, a few warm lamps littered around to light the space. Fans whir softly, and Emmy almost melts in relief at the reprieve from the sun. It’s much cooler inside.

There’s a brunette woman with bright red lipstick behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a rag and humming, but she stops when they walk in.

“Morning. I don’t think I’ve seen y’all around before.” She sets down the glass to lean over the bar. Emmy can clearly see the tattoos under her rolled up sleeves now as she puts her arms down. She was rather stocky, but it was evident that most of the bulk was muscle.

“We’re tourists.” Emmy says a little dumbly, still too distracted by the intricate ink designs. It looks like there’s a serpent on her left arm, and flowers on her right?

“I can tell.” The woman’s voice is smooth as butter, almost a purr as she laughs, “No one ‘round here would wear a jacket like that in this heat. And it’s a little too early for a drink, don’t’cha think?”

Luke hops up onto one of the seats to talk better. The bar is a standing one, clearly not made for a child of Luke’s stature. “We’re looking for a man named Jack?”

“I may have seen him. Depends on what you need him for, pipsqueak.”

Emmy hadn’t noticed the professors enter, but Professor Layton comes up behind them and lays a hand on Luke’s shoulder. His face was flushed angrily, but the professor’s touch seems to calm whatever storm he was about to unleash on the bartender.

“We need to talk to a young lady named Lally. Jack supposedly knows her whereabouts.”

The woman’s head tilts, and she bites her lip, humming.

“I doubt Jackie knows where she is right now.”

“We’d like to speak to him nonetheless.”

Her eyes flicker to a corner of the bar behind them, and she whispers, “He’s sleeping in the booth. But I wouldn’t recommend letting the kiddies talk to him. He’s got the mouth of a sailor, and I don’t think he’s in the best mood.” She makes a drinking motion.

The professors nod, and Emmy resigns herself to babysitting duty. Aurora hops into the chair next to Luke as the men walk away. The dim lights make more sense if there’s a patron asleep, Emmy thinks as she squints at the corner of the saloon. Hanging over the edge of one of the booths are some hefty black boots. Bingo.

“What are those drawings on your arms, Ma’am?”

Emmy turns back around and leans against the bar, watching Aurora.

“Call me Lina, sugar. Ma’am makes me feel old.” Lina holds her wrist out. “These’re tattoos. Never seen one before?”

Aurora runs a finger along the skin of the woman’s arm, looking fascinated.

“She doesn’t get out much,” Emmy explains, a tad embarrassed by the girl’s lack of social understanding.

“I can tell.”

Luke fidgets, no doubt bored, and Lina comes out from behind the bar to direct the kids to the pool table and dart boards. The light above the table flickers a few times when Lina turns it on, so she taps it until the light stays. Aurora picks up a billiard ball, inspecting it as Luke grabs the cues.

“Thanks for entertaining them.” Emmy expresses her attitude when Lina returns.

“I’ve got a few kiddies of my own around. They’re all angels until they’re bored.” Lina whistles, and Emmy observes the small chip in her tooth as the woman sits next to her.

“Hah! All too true.”

“You look a little tired, honey. D’ya want a drink?”

“I wish,” Emmy grumbles, “But I doubt you take pounds, and that’s all I’ve got.” The professors keep track of their currencies, and Emmy hadn’t thought to bring whatever American dollars she had remaining from their time in Torrido.

Lina waves her off, getting up to get behind the bar again, picking up the glass she’d set down earlier. “On the house. You’re looking a little red, sunshine. Heat’s getting t’ya?”

Emmy really hopes that her flushing can be passed off as sunburn or something, and not the fever she’s no doubt developed. She presses a clammy hand to her forehead. “Something like that. Could I have some water?”

The water is heavenly, and she forgoes the straw to just gulp it down, only stopping because she has a brain freeze.

Lina laughs as she puts her face down on the bar, “Goodness, you act like you’ve never drank water in your life!”

They make some idle chatter afterwards, watching Luke try to teach Aurora to play pool. Lina seems to have gotten the misconception that it was some kind of family trip, and Emmy couldn’t blame her.

“Why on earth are you bringing children on a work trip?”

“Luke follows the professor like a duckling. I don’t think we could shake him if we tried.”

She does leave out some details, like Aurora’s past and her own reasons for coming along, but by the end Luke seems to have gotten bored again. Emmy wrangles them back to the bar after spotting that Luke was making Aurora stand under the board while he threw darts at it. The professors were too caught up in their conversation with Jack, and Emmy was too miserable to give them the scolding of their lives. Rest assured, the second she didn’t feel like she was getting run over, Luke was going to get an earful.

Luke and Aurora sit down at the bar again, and Emmy settles into silence while they carry the conversation. The discussion shifts from world traveling to Lina’s tattoos to the people in town.

“Why is Mr. Jack sleeping here? Does he live here?”

“No, no. Jackie just…” The woman hums, “he couldn’t go home last night, so I let him stay.”

“Why couldn’t he go home?” Luke pipes up.

“He's a good man, but he has some troubles at home. That and he could hardly walk.”

Emmy passes a glance back at the corner, where the professors were engaged in a conversation with a rather scruffy looking man.

He looked about as well as Emmy felt. His chestnut hair was disheveled, sticking up in all sorts of ways, and his glasses were crooked. His shirt was wrinkled under the suspenders. Even at a glance, Emmy could verify that he’d most likely stayed the night after drinking too much.

Their discussion was getting a bit loud, as Jack was frantically gesturing with his hands.

Their words weren’t intelligible yet, but judging my Professor Sycamore’s expression, the man wasn’t exactly being pleasant.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Luke whispers to her, and she just shrugs back.

“That’s it!” Jack stands, slamming his hands down on the table. “I don’t want to hear another word on how I should parent my own goddamn daughter. Now get outta my face, you son of a-”

Emmy slaps her hands over Luke’s ears as Jack begins his tirade. There’s quite a few colorful words mixed in, and an assortment of phrases that she didn’t know could be put in such an order.

Luke tries to squirm away, but Emmy keeps his ears firmly covered.

“I’ll handle him, just take your friends and go.” Lina murmurs as she passes, and Emmy nods to her.

She jerks her head to the door, and they make their quiet retreat while the kindly woman distracts Jack.

“What was that for, Emmy?” Luke asks the second she’s gotten him out.

“Our friend had some choice words for us.” Professor Layton says quaintly, steering them out into the street and away from the continuous shouting.

“Did you find out where Lally is?” Aurora asks hopefully, and Professor Sycamore adjusts his glasses.

“Unfortunately, he couldn’t give us an exact location. He seems rather… distant from his daughter.”

Another half hour was then spent checking every nook and cranny in the village until an elderly woman directed them to a water mill by the docks. The very same docks they passed through multiple times.

Emmy felt like she was losing her mind.

The day was only getting hotter, and she was unbelievably thirsty again. The sun was relentless on her face and shoulders, and she had half a mind to call it quits. It seemed like her body hurt more with every step, and her headache had risen to a dull pounding. Whatever comfort she found in the cool saloon was gone, replaced with a buzzing irritation.

Lord help her if this ‘Lally’ girl doesn’t know anything about the Azran ruin either.

The watermill is a small, run down little thing that comes into view as they descend the stone steps right of the docks. Vines wrap in and out of the rotting support beams. It’s a wonder that the building hasn’t collapsed by now.

And yet, there’s a sort of serenity to the spinning water wheel and the gentle sway of the vines in the wind. Emmy unlatches the snap on her camera holder, taking out the camera almost without a thought.

Not exactly a safe place for a child to be playing, but it would make a pretty composition. The lighter green vines contrast well with the deep hues of the wood.

A bark startles her out of her thoughts, and she almost drops her camera.

“Oh, a dog!” Aurora gasps in excitement, but Professor Sycamore gently blocks her when the girl tries to approach it.

The door is half off it’s hinges, and just behind it is a scruffy looking puppy. It’s some kind of mutt, with a fluffy black and brown coat. The muzzle and paws are a dirty white. The dog is skinny, but not worryingly so, so Emmy can safely conclude that it’s being taken care of.

“Careful, Aurora, it looks to be a stray.”

There doesn’t appear to be a collar on its neck, and judging by its posture, the dog isn’t too happy to have intruders. Luke kneels to try talking to the little thing, but the dog only begins to growl more, barking agitatedly at them.

“Hey little buddy…” Luke coos, and reaches a hand out for the puppy.

“Luke-” Emmy tries to warn him, having seen enough strays in the Nest to tell when a dog will bite. Pushing too much will make them snap.

Right on cue, the dog lunges for Luke’s hand. On instinct, Emmy grabs Luke by his shirt collar and jerks him back and away, dropping her camera to the ground.

“Ack-!”

“Boots!” A little girl emerges from inside the mill, and she scoops up the squirming dog. She’s in a bright red dress that compliments the bows on her pigtails. “Be nice!”

Confident that Luke is safe, Emmy drops him to grab her camera from the dirt. She brushes off the dust and rubs the lens with her sleeve. Nothing seems broken, thankfully, but she should be more careful. Buying her own equipment had cost a pretty penny. Emmy slips it back into its case at her hip. So much for taking a picture.

“Are you Lally?” Professor Layton takes the reins, and Lally nods. She can’t be any older than 6.

“My name’s Lorraine, but everyone calls me Lally. Do I know you?”

“No, no. We simply wish to ask you a few questions about something you might have seen around town.”

“Mammy says not to talk to strangers. If you start acting funny I’ll sic Boots on you. He doesn’t much like boys.”

‘Boots’ yips enthusiastically, still trying to wiggle out of the girl’s arms.

“Have you seen a kinda teal-y blue statue around town? We’re looking for one, and Mr. Tom said you’d know.”

The girl’s demeanor brightens considerably when Luke brings up the dour old man that they’d met at the pier.

“Oh, you know Grandpappy? Well why didn’t you say so!”

Lally puts the dog down back inside the mill, instructing him to stay, then leads them back up into town.

Chapter Text

“The only thing I can think of is the alter at church.”

The girl takes them through town, though they frequently have to redirect her attention back to the task at hand. She rambles on about her life, about her family problems and how she met Boots and random tidbits of information on people in town that they don’t know.

Emmy couldn’t care any less about how the librarian’s husband’s brother is out of town for the next two weeks, but she nods along anyway.

She prances about, getting frequently distracted and generally wool-gathering, and Emmy thinks with irritation that she could use an active parent to keep her in line. Bronev would have a conniption if Emmy tried to act in such a manner.

Eventually, finally, they all make it to the church. And perhaps the woman is just used to the city or less than secular locations because the building presented to them doesn’t exactly scream cathedral.

It’s nicer than most of the shacks and buildings around, with a bleached brick foundation and a few panes of stained glass, but it’s not quite what she imagined.

Lally leads them in, holding the door with all her little might, and Emmy feels rather like melting into the floor as they’re all hit cool air upon entry.

“Welcome! Welcome, my friends.” If his garb was anything to go by, they had found the leader of the church himself. His twang was subtly less southern than most of the others they’d encountered. “How can I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Desmond Sycamore, and these are my companions. We were informed by Miss Lally that there might be an archeological site of importance within your church.”

The little girl has taken to prancing around in the pews now that her task was complete.

Fairly soon they’re invited to sit as they all talk. Emmy takes a moment to tune out the adults and take stock of how she’s faring.

The conclusion is that everything hurts, actually, and her body is trying to kill her. Emmy is thirsty and still far too heated. She can feel that her back is sweaty and under her curls, she has no doubt that her neck is also drenched. Both sides of her head are throbbing, her feet hurt, and if Emmy had any sense of mind she’d try to curl up on the floor and never get up again.

“Emmy.” There’s a poke to her shoulder, and she looks at the boy to her left. At least Luke had chosen to be smart and not wear his cardigan.

“Yeah?”

“You’re shivering.”

Oh. Yes, there was that too. It seems that now her mind has started factoring in how her body is meant to be feeling, it’s greeting her with wonderful chills.

Luckily, it gives her an idea, “I’m a little cold, actually.” Emmy stands quickly and immediately regrets it as the lightheadedness nearly sends her back down. She braces herself on the pew and blinks a few times, “Sooo.. I’m going back out.”

“Wait, I’ll go with you.” Luke starts picking up his bag and she waves him off.

“It’s fine. It’s fineeee I’m just gonna run around. Getting restless.”

And then she walks out without telling either of the professors or letting anyone tag along. Perhaps not her smartest idea, but she needed to be alone for this next part.

The next part being acquiring medicine.

It only takes a surprisingly little amount of wandering aimlessly before she finds a corner store. The fan is a welcome surprise, even if it makes her shiver.

“Welcome in!” Chirps the man behind the counter, and Emmy flashes him a grin before looking around. The cold medicine is in plain sight, right in arms reach. The only problem is that she still doesn’t have any American currency.

Well. She wasn’t nicknames ‘Miss Sticky Fingers’ for nothing.

Staring for a few minutes lends her tired brain an idea. Her jacket doesn’t have large enough pockets to hold a pill bottle, but if she just put it in her camera holder, it shouldn’t be an issue.

So she clicks it open, takes out her camera, and puts the bottle in its place.

The perfect crime.

She takes a step, and her hip makes this little rattling noise.

Maybe not the perfect crime.

“Can I help you?”

If she wasn’t so out of it, she might have jumped out of her skin. When had the guy moved from the register? How had Emmy, an elite agent, gotten snuck up on?

“Uhmm.. Uh…”

Think!

“I’m just taking pictures.” Hoping and praying that she’s not too sick to put up a front, Emmy holds up her camera, “I just loooove American culture and was looking at some of the products we don’t have back in England!”

Thanking her lucky stars that he seemed to buy it, she’s dragged around the little shop and made to talk about how much of a fanatic she is about America until her throat is sore and she wants to tell him exactly where he can stick that cowboy hat of his.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong necessarily, just that Emmy was rather fed up with his blinding pearly teeth and red plaid shirt and ugly boots and she’s much rather be inside of a grave than have to survive more of a conversation with a person that pronounces ‘route’ as ‘root.’

Eventually she manages to pull herself out and away from the store and the incessant friendly small talk, and then she wanders down by the edge of the river. It’s cooler down there, and Emmy fiddles around with the cap. Stupid child locks… This was like a terrible puzzle.

Frustrated, she manages to actually squint down at the label and turn it the right way, then empties out a few tiny pills into her hand. However much should work, right?

Emmy doesn’t check the label before downing a few. No matter what, taking perhaps a bit too much medication would be better than dying because her brain was frying.

Then the panic sets in. She can’t walk around with a pill bottle jangling around in her camera holder all day. Someone is bound to notice, and then she’ll be screwed. Emmy has to get rid of it.

Without another thought, Emmy chucks the bottle into the river, then watches as it get swept away from the water mill.

Huh. That’s one one way to get rid of it. The perfect crime. Her fingers fumble with the clasps of the holder, and she slips her camera back into the case.

“Emmy?”

“Yeah?” Emmy straightens her back, rolling her shoulders and trying to seem presentable.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Aurora follows Luke as he comes into sight. Both look out of breath and vaguely puzzled, so it’s pretty evident they’ve been looking for her. At least she disposed of her crime before they saw it.

Well. Hopefully it’ll kick in soon.

“Just taking pictures.”

Emmy wipes the imaginary dust off of her pants. This will all be fine. Just a bit longer.