July 2nd, 1888 - Museum of Magical Miscellany

'Cause you've got something that everybody wants
I've been having troubles with my dos and my don'ts
All my secrets why does everybody know, know, know
You've got something, you've got something

Zelda's heart started thumping a little too fast the moment she stepped inside the museum. This was a bad idea, and - she knew it. She ought to go home and sleep; she had in fact been asked to leave MA&C for the rest of the day, having been working at least twelve hours a day and being constantly on-call for what seemed like ages. National disasters left something to be desired in the form of free time and rest. So her hair was a little frizzed and there were shadows under her eyes, and still she decided to walk from the Ministry to the Museum.

She didn't even know if he was here today.

Zelda paid for entry anyways. She liked the museum; if she did not run into him then she would only be a little bit disappointed. Probably. She walked through the exhibit halls without much engagement until she reached the offices, where - surely - the perhaps-Avalon artifacts were held.

Zelda sat down on one of the benches and fiddled with the end of her braid. It was at some point in her first ten minutes of sitting there, hoping that Mr. Darrow would appear, that she fell asleep, head tipping forward at an awkward angle.

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred had been a little annoyed at leaving the island so soon, but there wasn't any arguing with the Commodore. Personally, he thought that arriving a week late (or even longer) with more definitive proof of what they'd actually found would have been far more impressive than spending their time in Museum offices debating whether or not they'd found anything of value, but the Commodore hadn't even wanted to go on the expedition in the first place, so his priorities were a little... different than Alfred's would have been, in his position. He'd also, by virtue of both his superior rank and of his general apathy into the affair, excused himself from most of the proceedings at the Museum, which left Alfred to deal with any of the inquiries of the academics. For the most part, he didn't mind — the few people working on the artifacts were more tolerable than the general public, in terms of asking obnoxiously intrusive questions about his tattoos or making references to that stupid book that listed him as author — but he would have preferred to have been back on the ship, and he would have preferred even more to be back out to sea.

That seemed rather unlikely, though, until the whole Fog Crisis was over, and in the meantime most of the resources that might be devoted towards anything new and exciting had been diverted up to Hogsmeade and Irvingly. Alfred had ascertained via letter that none of his immediate family had gotten caught up in any fog-related predicaments, which left him largely ambivalent to the situation up north. It seemed rather improbable that it would progress so far as London and therefore affect him, and the fact that he lived on a ship meant that even if it did, he would not be so wholly stranded and defenseless as the residents of Hogsmeade and Irvingly seemed to be.

So, all in all, things could certainly be worse. It had been long enough since his last letter from Miss Zelda Fisk that he had stopped looking for her sudden (and, to be honest, a little dreaded) appearance at the Museum. When he emerged from the office at the end of the day, he almost walked right by her sitting form without realizing who it was. When he did recognize her, he didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to just keep walking. How could he possibly rouse her when she was asleep in any way that wouldn't seem... well, horribly, paralyzingly awkward almost seemed like an understatement. Was he even positive that she was, in fact, here to see him?

Of course that was just him pulling at straws, and he knew it. There was no other reason for her to be perched directly across from the office where he'd been spending his time half the days; she would hardly have bought a Museum ticket in order to take a nap on the rather uncomfortable looking little bench. The question then was whether she had come today with the intention to ambush him or not — she certainly hadn't told him she'd be here this afternoon. But he couldn't work under that assumption without some further bit of proof. Maybe the rumors that the fog was affecting the post were true after all, and she'd been writing him constantly since his last letter without his ever receiving one. Maybe she'd come here after deciding that he was probably avoiding her, which was the last thing he wanted.

He still wasn't sure how to wake her up, though. Should he make a loud noise? Touch her? Was there anyone else around who could do this for him, while he hid out in the office for another two minutes and gave her a chance to compose herself before walking out again?

He was being stupid. This was stupid. It wasn't his fault that she'd fallen asleep, after all.

Rather awkwardly, Alfred tucked his hands into his pocket and nudged her shoe with his own. "Hey."

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   Cassius Lestrange

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda started upwards, eyes flying open. There was a crick in her neck, now. She looked up and her eyes widened further, because here he was, waking her up. Alive and standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets and alive. Even as Ari had raised the possibility Zelda had never really thought that he'd survive the journey and come back on time. This was part of why she'd been so opposed to the notion of marrying him - she never thought that Mr. Darrow would be here to marry.

It was as if looking at him kickstarted her heart; it thumped uneasily in her chest. Oh. He looked - well, just as he had when she'd left him, if more clothed. She remembered the gentle way he'd pressed his lips against her shoulder. She also remembered the horrifying lurch of confessing to Ari.

"Hello, Mr. Darrow," she said, still on the bench. She blinked up at him. "I think I may've dropped off for a moment there." Well, obviously. It wasn't an interaction with Mr. Darrow without awkwardness.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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AMAZING set by MJ

At least she wasn't difficult to wake. If he'd had to do any actual jostling in order to rouse her, he likely would have lost the nerve and ended up just standing their awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping she'd come to. Not that he was feeling any less awkward about this whole situation now that she was awake. "Er, that's — it's fine," he managed to get out, though it wasn't really as though she needed his permission or blessing to sleep on a bench at the Museum; he had no more right to this particular area than she did. "I imagine you've been busy, then?"

It wasn't as though she would have planned to fall asleep (or at least, Alfred couldn't think of any earthly reason why she would have; there was no outcome that would have been helped along by such an intermediate step, at least not that he could fathom), so she must have been exhausted, he assumed. There were a few tell-tale details in her appearance that seemed to confirm the theory, and he couldn't help but feel a little twinge of something at the thought. Perhaps it was only sympathy (he had certainly had his fair share of sleep deprivation throughout his life), but it seemed to have something in common with tender protectiveness, too. Alfred tried not to think about it too much.

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   Cassius Lestrange

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda smiled, a little rueful. "My office is always on call, because of the fog," she said, although truth be told she had started to find the entire national disaster wildly frustrating at around the time she ran after a troll down the street.

"They actually - well, I got kicked out, for the afternoon," Zelda admitted. She glanced down at her lap. Instead of going home, she'd come here - and was only now becoming aware that she looked terrible, or at least exhausted, and he looked the same.  She'd drafted this conversation in her head countless times since his return, but she had never anticipated on starting out asleep.

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred raised an eyebrow when she said she'd been kicked out — but the fact that it was only for the afternoon ruled out any serious misbehavior on her part. It was more likely that they'd sent her off for her own well being, or that she was too dead-on-her-feet tired to be doing anything useful and had started just getting in the way, one or the other. Either way, the logical place to go following such a dismissal would have been home, not to the Museum. Had she just decided to come here on a whim? Technically, they'd talked about it before, in their letters, but he hadn't been expecting her, by any means. Maybe this was the first time she'd had any free time at all to do as she pleased, and she'd come here because she'd been trying to find the time since she'd first written to him — which seemed slightly ominous.

Maybe it only seemed ominous because he kept expecting her to be angry at him. Maybe the fact that she'd come here instead of going literally anywhere else only struck him as odd because in her shoes, he was sure he would have been avoiding anything like confrontation after their last encounter. Still. Alfred shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. "So," he began, halting almost immediately to try and get a grasp of what he was actually trying to say. "Did you — uhm — want to talk — about something?"

Hopefully that was clear enough that she would know what he meant, because he didn't even know what he meant. It wasn't as though he wanted to talk about what had happened before he'd gone underway, particularly, and if anything had happened since then that was work talking about he certainly wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. He just had a feeling that there was something, whether he could articulate it or not.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"If you don't mind," Zelda said softly. This time - this time she actually had to just talk to him, because she had not been kidding when she promised Ari that it would never happen again. There would be no sketchy museum table sex, nothing in the boat; she really ought to never visit the boat again. And if she was really adhering to the spirit of her brother's request, she would have stayed far away from Mr. Darrow; she would have never said anything to him again.

Except that she had missed him, and she was lonely, and she felt as if there was still something to be said. She could have just gone home, but home was in the depths of the fog, an entire train ride away, with Xena trapped inside and the pressing sense that she had to be doing something.

"Maybe not here, though," she said. Dancing around it could only get them so far in a hallway, of all places, although she was equally hesitant to go anywhere private. Her life had not been nearly so difficult when she could still trust herself.

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred's shoulders sank slightly at her reply. He'd known there was something, but a part of him had been hoping that she would be too shy to bring it up, and that they could just go on pretending there wasn't. Of course, that wasn't a sustainable way to move forward, if they were actually going to have any sort of a relationship beyond awkward interactions in passing. On the other hand, they'd spent the entire expedition save the last few days not talking to each other at all, so who was to say that they were going to be having any sort of a relationship?

All in all, he was sure that he would have preferred to have skipped whatever this conversation was about to involve. Her suggestion that they go somewhere else only confirmed his vague feeling of dread. He may have been over a decade older than her, but he felt a bit like a kid who knew they were about to be in trouble.

"Er, yeah," he agreed, though he didn't know where else they were going to go. The Museum wasn't exactly a private place in general, and Alfred was only splitting time here while they sorted through the things he'd brought back from the island. It wasn't as though he was important enough to have an office, or anything.

Not that he thought inviting her into an office was necessarily a great idea. He'd had her in his office on the ship twice. On the first occasion, she'd threatened to kiss him, and on the second... well.

"Do you want to walk somewhere?" he suggested lamely, not sure what else to do.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Outside?" Zelda asked, hopeful. She hadn't gone for a real walk since before the fog happened, although she certainly scurried about in it enough, and the thought of maybe getting some actual sunlight was appealing. And, as an added bonus, it was very unlikely that she could end up naked around him if they went outside.  

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred was by no means an expert in how young women followed the rules of English society, but he did have a very general understanding of what was allowed and what wasn't. He thought walking about in the streets with her should have involved a chaperone of some sort, but he couldn't find any sort of way to bring that up without just seeming as though he was blatantly trying to avoid having any degree of privacy with her. Besides, he'd run into her lots of times in the past, and he hadn't been thinking about what was proper and right then; just now, when he had reason to suspect that going on any long walks out of doors might get them both in trouble.

Well, walking around and being seen together and possibly starting rumors wasn't exactly the most trouble they'd gotten in to, recently. With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Alfred uttered a rather unenthusiastic agreement, and lead the way towards the front door.

"So... what's going on?" he asked, once they had departed the Museum for the London street. It was far from deserted, but they had the sort of privacy that being in the midst of a crowd afforded; no one seemed to be noticing them or paying them much attention, which was about as good as things could get, he supposed.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Once they were out, Zelda at least felt more awake. The light sheen of sunlight shining through the London clouds was cheering, and there was a little bit of a breeze. Besides that, and most importantly, it wasn't fog. With one hand, and absent-mindedly, she began re-winding her braid, tucking in the hairs that had gone wild since she'd assembled it yesterday. Playing with - or fixing, depending on your perspective - her hair gave her something to do with her hands, removing some of the uncertainty from the interaction.

"My brother knows," she blurted out, because that was the first, worst thing on her mind. "Ari." It was not as if that name would mean anything to him - unless he'd lined up with Ari at school - but she was used to Fisks running into everyone, so she might as well give him the right brother. Ari knew. If Julian hadn't figured it out yet, he would soon. Zelda was flighty, and Ari was more observant of her - and if Ari asked (or had asked) any questions about that night, then surely Julian would put some of the pieces together. He was clever. And she had never been well-behaved.

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AMAZING set by MJ

The way she reached her hands up towards her hair when they walked down the front steps of the Museum put her figure to great advantage, particularly in profile, which was what his position relative to her allowed him to primarily see. He couldn't help but notice, then, after catching himself noticing, grew embarrassed and shoved his hands a little further into his pockets. The tips of his ears were turning red. It was not much of a mental leap, from there, to determine what she was referring to when she said her brother knew.

"Oh," Alfred said, momentarily at a loss. He hadn't really expected her to tell anyone — he hadn't, after all, and he had less to lose by the admissions — but he wouldn't have begrudged her talking to someone about it. Still, a brother seemed an odd choice. Perhaps it was just because he'd never been particularly close to his, but having a brother in the picture made Alfred feel as though perhaps she was about to tell him that said brother was en route to challenge him to a duel, or something. Which might have been the point (otherwise, why choose a brother over a close friend, or something like that?) except if she intended him to be murdered, she probably wouldn't have come here, out of her way, to warn him about it first.

"You told him?" Alfred asked, but only because he didn't know what else to say. He couldn't imagine it coming out any other way, really, so she had to have told him. The question was: "Why?"

He hadn't really meant to say the last word out loud.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda frowned at the question, and kicked a pebble along the path they were walking down. She had not forgotten that Mr. Darrow was not good at talking, and that she in particular was bad at talking to him, but it was one thing to remember and another to experience. And, although she had brought it up - she had to at least warn him that he was on Ari's shitlist, whatever such a thing meant - talking about it just reminded her of the entire confessional experience. The way he had breathed Zelda, the horrified expression on his usually unflappable face, the way she had collapsed into his shirt. He would likely make a similar, if not quite as dire, expression when he heard about this.

She sighed. Braid fixed, or as fixed as it was going to get, her hands dropped back to her sides, and she stuck them on her hips for lack of anything else to do with them. Zelda's voice dropped an octave, as ashamed as it was quiet. "I thought I - we, I guess - might be in trouble," she said, still kicking that stupid pebble. "And he's a healer. So I asked him to help."

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AMAZING set by MJ

Her tone when she answered immediately made him feel ashamed of the way that he had asked, and her words, when he had a chance to process them, only compounded the feeling. Trouble. He'd been expecting her to write to him if there was any suspicion of trouble, but perhaps he was asking too much. It wasn't as though she owed him anything, after their last encounter. It wouldn't have been unreasonably of her to have decided she never wanted to talk to him again, and she'd already said in one of her more recent letters that she wasn't too keen on how these sorts of things were normally addressed. The only thing he would have done — the only thing he possibly could have done — would have been marrying her, and she didn't want to marry him. Not that he could blame her.

"I'm sorry," he said, tone low. He thought perhaps he ought to clarify for what, but it was really just for everything. He was sorry for having asked about her motives so brashly just now, and he was sorry that he'd started this entire ordeal by inviting her out sailing at the Sandition on the day that they'd first met, and just about everything in between. While he had hardly started out with the intention to ruin her, he'd clearly made quite a mess of things all the same.

"But there wasn't?" he clarified, with a less than discreet glance down towards her stomach (stupidly; what did he expect to notice there now if nothing had been obvious to him during the first fifteen minutes of their conversation?) "Any trouble?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Zelda glanced, self-consciously, toward her stomach. "No," she said, because it was true enough now. If she had not been ready to pull the trigger - so, have Ari poison her - before the troll incident, then getting flung down the street had certainly taken care of matters. And the thing was, ultimately, she was not even sure there ever had been a baby, and she was never going to know, and she had to make her peace with that. (Or pretend that she had.)

She felt better for having told him, though, even if she had not told him everything. Zelda offered Mr. Darrow a small smile. It didn't meet her eyes, at least not fully, but she was feeling a little bit more cheerful than she had for the duration of this conversation. Just a little.

"I would have told you, if there really was," she said, although even she wasn't entirely sure of that. (But. Probably, if there was serious trouble, he would have found out eventually.)

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AMAZING set by MJ

Alfred was relieved by both parts of her answer, though the latter was a little perplexing. She'd said in her letter that she wouldn't have wanted to marry him, if there had been trouble, which meant there could hardly be any benefit on her end to informing him. He wasn't sure what he would have been expected to do with the information, if it had happened, but still he supposed he would have wanted to have known. The idea of having created a child at some point in his life who was then wandering about somewhere in the world while he, Alfred, was utterly ignorant of the fact didn't sound appealing to him at all.

"That's... good," he said uncertainly. He felt as though there was some piece of this he was missing, and it was hard to work through what it was when they were dealing exclusively in hypothetical conversations that would now never happen. He tried to imagine what she would have said to him if there had been trouble — would she have made a point to say she didn't want a 'wandpoint marriage' then, or would she have gone along with it for the sake of the child? Of course he would have offered — there wasn't anything else to do in that situation, whether they ultimately wanted to be married or not.

After the last interaction on the boat, and then his setting sail so soon afterwards, he wouldn't have been surprised if she hated him. She had every right to be angry with him, or disappointed in him, or to avoid him forever — but she certainly hadn't shown any inclination to do the latter, by showing up here, and so far she didn't seem angry.

There was a long, awkward moment where Alfred couldn't think of anything to say — or, rather, he thought of lots of things to say but no halfway decent way to phrase any of them — and the only sound was the shuffling of his feet as he walked on through the streets, eyes on the cobblestones and one hand rubbing sporadically at the back of his neck beneath his long hair. After a moment, he asked — with his eyes still down at the road and his ears and cheeks tinging red — "The first time you came to the boat — when you said you wanted to kiss me — is that still how you feel?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER