Work Text:
The rain beat down upon Ronald's umbrella. The day had been nothing but miserable. The rain had sneaked its way into his shoes and soaked his socks.
Typical English weather.
He walked along the streets where people scurried like rats to find shelter. Newspapers had their ink smeared into illegibility, but everyone knew what the front-page story was.
Inference was dead.
Fell down a waterfall with D.M. Some may mention Truth fell with him. The last one to see either of them alive. Nobody knew what had happened. Nobody had found the bodies. Truth had ‘amnesia.’. How convenient.
The papers had articles for days. Someone had broken into the empty Melodis estate and found some very ‘interesting’ papers. Bribery, murder, forgery, tax evasion, and more Ronald couldn’t care about. Funny how someone has to 'die' for the police to start looking into what they already knew.
Puddles expanded over the streets. Water droplets jumped from one puddle to the next one as he walked along. As the rain poured down, they slowly became one. While things are still quiet… he'll get everyone ready to go on a theater tour. They're famous enough. He just needs to find a country that'll let them—
A pair of boots blocked his path. The shoes were attached to the blonde woman hugging her knees as she sat upon a doorstep. Her eyes stared blankly at the road in front of her. She was drenched; not a single part of her was dry. The rain had soaked into her bones. She didn't seem to care.
Ronald held his umbrella over her.
"You should go inside."
"I'm waiting."
"For inference?"
A horse and cart rumbled past them. She kept staring blankly, waiting for someone who would never return.
"Won't your friends be worried about you staying out so long?"
"Gone."
The sky thundered.
"Truth, go inside."
"I'm waiting."
"You're going to make yourself sick—"
"Ronald." She finally looked up at him. "You don't have to pretend to be concerned for me."
"It's not—"
"I know you, Ronald. You're a great actor."
You fucking— Ronald gritted his teeth.
"Fine. Freeze to death. Tell Inference I said hello when you meet him."
Mud splashed onto her as he walked past her. Lightning struck across the sky. She kept staring.
She was still there. Her eyes were closed now, but she was shivering. Not dead quite yet. Soon, however. He’d likely hear about it in the papers, and no one would know he was here.
The rain still poured down. Ronald carefully lifted Truth up. Her hat fell to the ground.
The log cried out its objection as it was thrown into the fire. The flames hungrily began to devour it.
Lady Truth sat in a chair beside the fire. Her eyes are still closed. Did she dream of Inference? Ronald had wrapped her in a blanket. He had taken off her wet coat and let it dry upon the chair she sat on. Pressed a hand against her face every so often to see if the cold was being slowly beaten away.
She started to stir when he returned to the room with her old theater uniform.
"Did you see him?" He asked as the blue of her eyes slowly pushed out from sleep.
Half-closed, those blues carefully surveyed the room before they hid themselves away.
"I didn't expect you to keep it."
"I don't like to waste good clothes." He placed down the clothes on the small table in front of her chair. “You know where the dressing room is.”
Truth slowly rose from the chair, like a dying soldier seeking one last fight. She clutched the blanket close to her and picked up her old uniform. Ronald turned away from her and picked up another log of wood. Truth shuffled away to the dressing room. He threw the log on the fire. The fire greedily took it, stuffing wood into its mouth it couldn't hold. He took the fire poker and jabbed it against the wood to keep it within the fireplace.
Inference...
If there’s one good person left in town, it’s either Smarty Pants or you.
The good apples had been seized by the rot of this town. It got to all of them eventually, no matter how hard you tried. Not everyone got to be the pet of a lord. Some of them had to bargain being good away for a chance to get ahead. Bodies weren’t a part of his plan… Ronald went over to his cabinet. He opened the wooden doors and pulled out a wine bottle and glass. He pulled out the cork and poured the wine into the glass.
“…Always the best out of the three of us… the most noble… the most bold… the most stubborn bastard of us all.” Ronald stood in front of the fire. Ronald filled the glass again, raised a toast, then drank. “Hope you’re happy wherever you are.” He tossed the rest of the wine into the fire.
The fire eagerly guzzled the alcohol. Burning brightly before calming down. Ronald stood and watched it all. A promise to meet again that now would never be fulfilled.
“Ronald. I’ll go home now.”
Truth stood in the doorway, holding the blanket and her wet clothes. She looked so different with blonde hair instead of brown. He remembered her look when she saw Inference at the theater. So different from that orphanage runt. She was so careful to avoid his questions. How lucky she had Kroto on her side and a murder. He placed the glass down up on the fireplace.
“It’s dark outside.”
“I know my way.”
“You almost froze to death. Truth, be rational. There’s a spare bed. You can leave in the morning. Or is my presence that unpleasant?”
“I do not wish to overstay my welcome. You were Inference’s friend. Not mine.”
“...Alright. I will take you home then. Don’t object. Like you said, I was Inference’s friend. As his ‘friend,’ I have an obligation to make sure his ‘friend’ goes home safely...” He went over to the coat rack and pulled on his coat. “I hear the Melodis family, amidst their multiple scandals, are finding time to throw a fit over you.”
“It’s their time to waste.”
Ronald puts on his coat and pulls an umbrella from its pot. Like a gentleman, he opens the door for Truth. She wasn’t talking, and Ronald wasn’t either. Their footsteps echoed across the streets. He had walked with Inference once. After the first night of his investigation on Golden Rose. Then again on the final. Then never again. Because he fell down a waterfall. That irritated him. Was it truly a waterfall that claimed him? Or was it a single shot that echoed in the night? Not a single paper knew who fired and who it claimed…If it claimed anyone at all.
What if it claimed inference? Something tickled Ronald about that idea. It made a good narrative end. A soldier claimed by a weapon he once used. More than falling down a waterfall and drowning.
“Truth… May I ask you about that night?”
“I had been waiting for you to ask.” She said blankly, like their conversations before. Not even with a twinge of boredom or frustration.
“You must be sick of talking about it.”
“I would, but Officer Jose had been speaking for me to the media. He says the event traumatized me too much.”
“How kind of him.”
Truth squeezed the bundle in her arms.
“It’s demeaning.” She spat.
Ronald almost flinched. Her fingers dug into the wet clothes as a little anger burned in her eyes.
“They want to trip you up.” He regained himself. “As an officer of the law, he has more experience handling them.”
“I know. He said that too.” Truth muttered. “....He has been kind to me, so I stay quiet.” She stopped walking. Her fingers fumble with the wet fabric as she holds back something. “What did you want to ask?” She turned to Ronald before she continued to walk.
“Who fired that shot and at whom?”
“The shot that Officer Jose heard?”
“Yes. Unless there’s another?”
Truth stared at him. Eyes wide, the edges of her lips twitching into a smile, then a frown. “The shot Jose thought he heard was from D.M.’s gun. Who he was aiming at... Only he knows from the lakebed he lies in.” Her voice dropped, briefly gaining emotion, and she returned to her previous blank and monotone manner of speaking.
Ronald stood still. He thought for a moment. Truth stopped as well, but she kept her back towards him. The Orpheus detective agency was in view.
“They never mentioned that in the papers.”
“Because a dear friend told me to tell no one.” Truth turned and looked at Ronald. “But we’re both dear friends of Inference and discarded pawns of D.M.”
“Yes. Yes, we are.”
“And you’ll be gone soon.”
“Indeed, I will.”
“This is my goodbye gift then. Knowledge shared between us.”
“Will I be given how you know it was from D.M.’s gun?”
“Because the other gun that had fired belonged to Inference.”
“But did he fire that gun?”
“Why don’t you ask Inference?”
The streetlight shone down on Lady Truth, and the light cast shadows upon her face. She held up the bundle closer to her and walked onwards. In the bundle’s pocket, she pulled out a key.
“It’s getting late. You need to be up early tomorrow, don’t you, Ronald?”
“You had a look at my schedule?”
“A detective is always nosy. Even without a case.”
“Did Inference teach you that?”
“No.”
The two slowly approached the detective agency doors. Truth stared up at one of the windows. She stopped and seemed to wait. Hoping for a light to turn on.
“Truth.”
She stared up at the window before walking over to the front door. The keys jangled once they slipped into the door hole. She twisted the key. A click, and the doors opened with a creak.
“Goodnight, Ronald.”
“Goodnight, Truth.”