July 24, 1893 — Location
@"Fallon Hatchitt"

If Faustus thought that his panic would get any better when they arrived at the offices, he was sorely mistaken. It twisted and writhed in his stomach, threatening to return the tea he’d just made back home. His training should have prepared him for this, and yet it was easily dwarfed by the fear of losing the woman who had become a beacon in his life the past year. Marie had never been loud or aggressive, but there was a strength and determination in her that Faustus didn’t realize he had become to depend upon until it was taken from him. Panic wouldn’t do any good, and yet that didn’t prevent him from slamming his fist on his desk as he collected the necessary paperwork to call in reinforcements.

But, of course, there was one person who didn’t need any sort of official document.

He had sent the missive as soon as he’d gotten into the office. Felix and him had parted to continue investigating, and the only thing that would prevent him from leaving and joining his brother was the fact that he was only waiting for her to get here, and he knew she would appear in the doorway any second.

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A silent and deadly force had consumed Fallon upon receiving Faustus' letter. It was a side of her she invoked only on the most dangerous of missions, a focus that she relied upon only when she was faced with dire circumstances. She seemed able to see all events happening with an impossible level of clarity while her thoughts narrowed to only one single goal. And, as she silently handed Jesse the letter and retrieved her bag stashed in a closet besides the floo, her only goal was to save Malou.

She didn't run through the ministry. If Faustus was summoning her like this and not through the proper channels of paperwork and drudgery, then he was likely trying to avoid others noticing Malou's disappearance. (Although keeping it quiet made little sense to her, without all the details Fallon wasn't about to blow the plan to hell.) Instead, she moved calmly and efficiently, acknowledging no one until she was standing inside Faustus' office.

"Explain," Fallon demanded once the door was closed behind her.

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There was a time when Faustus would have been irritated at Hatchitt bursting into his office without so much as a greeting. Now he almost growled at her for taking so long. He refrained though, relief blooming in his chest as she marched in and closed the door, the blazing look in her eyes promising violence. Good. That was what he needed, and nothing less. “She went to church this morning as usual. I’d expected her back around her regular time, but sometimes she stayed and talked to the patrons.” As much as guilt gnawed at him, it would be exactly like his wife to be delayed in case someone needed help. In his line of work, Faustus knew that catastrophes happened at the blink of an eye with no one the wiser of what happened to start it. However much comfort this was, it was also the source of his distress.

“But the longer she was gone, the more I started worrying; even if something had happened where she was helping someone, she would have owled me at the very least, or had someone do so.” He ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time it might as well have been permanently haphazardly tousled. “She wouldn’t just do that without letting someone know. If not me, than you.” He’d started pacing again as he told her, feeling a restlessness gather around him like a cloud.

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Fallon was well acquainted with Malou's church habits. The years rhey spent living together were punctuated by her friend attending church or helping someone from church, so she did understand how Faustus could have believed her tardiness was due to her tender heart. However, the singlenost important fact that he had failed upon was Malou always found a way to send word. (She was who Fallon aspired to be in that regard as suxh aspirations were the only saving grace she had in her marriage these days.)

"Did someone check the church yet? Talk to the other members?" It seemed obvious that he would have, but he hadn't mentioned doing as such.

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“She never showed up.”

He nearly spat the words out bitterly as nausea gripped at his chest once more. “Sterling’s out at the church right now talking to people, asking where she would have gone if she hadn’t made it.” He glanced at Fallon, searching for any sign of recognition; any sign that she might have known where she was. He glanced at the clock. “He should be back by now, and Felix is off contacting people he knows.”

He’d been waiting for Fallon so they might start searching even more, but the more that he talked, the more restless he became. This was all information she needed to know, and she was likely as, if not more, restless than him. But they needed to act now.

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Her blood ran cold.

Malou never missed church unless some set of dire circumstances or work forced her to. Sure, they hadn't lived together for the better part of two years now, but old habits died hard. Malou wouldn't have simply not shown up.

While it irked her to hear that others were already actively working on finding her and she was only just now being debriefed, Fallon was determined not to lose focus now. Not when Malou never showed up and had enemies like her vile and cruel uncle. "Has anyone heard from her uncle? Did she send notice of the wedding to him?" Her tone cold, her body rigid as she stared at him (and his frantic, nervous energy) expectantly.

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Right as the words were out of his mouth, Faustus almost winced, knowing how it must have looked for him to have sent other people out instead of contacting her first. As much as he knew Fallon would have wanted to be alerted before Felix, she would have to be content to be in at least the first five on the list of people, and the order would shuffle around depending upon the situation and persons involved. Sterling had only been alerted because he'd already been at the offices when they'd gotten there. The man seemed to be extremely out of sorts for the past few months, but had always insisted upon doing extra work. Any attempts Faustus made to peel back a layer for some sort of explanation were immediately diverted, and so Faustus eventually settled upon keeping a distant eye on Sterling instead.

Turning back to the situation at hand, Faustus stared at the witch as his chest twisted once more. Her uncle?

“No,” He could only manage the smallest shake of his head as the litany of questions started circling through his mind. She’d never mentioned any uncle of any kind. What kind of husband was he if he hadn’t asked after her existing family before they’d gotten engaged, or at the very least during the honeymoon? How had he missed this? The thought that it might have been a matter of trust didn’t sit well with him either. Faustus had wanted to make it known that she could trust him with anything; had wanted her to know that she should feel safe to tell him anything.

But right now, it was time for him to focus on Marie, not his spectacular failings as a husband. Marie, and this supposed ‘uncle’ whose mere mention made Hatchitt look like she’d gladly skin the man alive if he was readily available. “What about her uncle?”

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Her uncle — Gabriel Skovgaard, a despicable and cruel man — had all but abandoned Malou after her parents' death. He showed no regard for the freshly orphaned teenager and instead took possession over lands that most assuredly belonged to Malou. Fallon had begged to put the terrible wrong to right a few times over the years, but Malou hadn't given her permission. The healer was too genuine and kind to allow any type of harm to befall her last remaining kin.

"He is a jealous second son who happened to inherit a rather large sum of wealth when Malou's parents died. Wealth that she could contest as her own if she were to have a son." Fallon stated, her eyes firmly locked upon his as she spoke. "So I'll ask again, do you think she would have sent him notice of the wedding?" Deep within herself, Fallon feared she already knew the answer: of course Malou would send notice of her marriage to her only remaining kin. Of course Malou would hope there was a chance of some sort of attention at such news.

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This new revelation hit him. Hard. Faustus felt the weight of the past few hours, tore his gaze away from Fallon and finally sat down in his chair. How could he have not known such a thing? That Marie had such a volatile history? Clearly Fallon had known; he wouldn’t fault her for not telling him. There were enough antagonistic feelings between them, and clearly she wasn’t obligated to reveal everything that Marie told her to him. In fact he had a hard time directing his anger towards anyone else except this recently revealed Uncle.

At Fallon’s question, Faustus looked up, his stomach roiling already. “Yes.” There was no need to ponder such an answer. He was her only family left, family that should have cared for her after the death of her parents, and instead had abandoned her and — from what he could infer — taken over what was rightfully hers. If she were to have a son.

A fresh wave of horror struck him, and he stood abruptly. They had been trying to conceive, and there had been something slightly off about Marie for the past few days. Faustus hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was, but he had wanted to give her some space, and not press her. But the possibility that she might be pregnant through all of this…that they might not only harm her, but their child.

Faustus’ expression hardened, and he looked to Fallon. “Where do I find him?”

---

  

"Denmark. Her parents' old house, I'm sure." Fallon supplied icily. She knew Malou was naive enough to cling to the hope that someone like her uncle might change, but she hadn't realized Malou was so foolish as to not inform her husband —an auror — of the potential danger. It was a fool's error not to have informed Faustus of Gabriel herself. Fallon shouldn't have trusted Malou to consider all aspects of her safety.

"Jesse knows not to expect me home. Send whatever missives you need for your children and get Sterling back here. I'll arrange the portkey for within the hour." She normally wouldn't think to speak to Faustus in such direct terms, he usually wouldn't even allow it. For this, though, he'd have to suffer through it.

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“Denmark?” He knew he’d heard right, and he believed Fallon implicitly. But — Denmark. The bastard had made it all the way over the channel with his wife, and he’d barely noticed until it was almost too late. The rage bubbling inside Faustus was at a boiling state. The moment he got his hands on Gabriel, it would be lucky if the man made it out alive. And if Faustus didn’t get to him first, thrre was little doubt in his mind that Fallon would certainly finish the job.

He nodded, already combing through the security measures he’d put his children under. His valet and staff knew the code word when to lock the house down. No one would enter the premises unless it was him. “Send whoever else you can. I’ve got people arriving soon, they’ll be awaiting orders. If I’m not back by then, they know to answer to you.” Some of them wouldn’t necessarily like taking orders from a woman, but Faustus was beyond having a care about that. “Send word if you head off before I’m back.”

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