#I've been wanting to write about kat and ernest more

[cry-stars]

For the ask, Katrielle and Ernest, AU where somehow his mother is missing instead of dead?

Absolutely! Thank you so much for asking, and I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! It turned out much longer than I expected. The AO3 link to it is here, but I'll also put it below a read-more here as well.

...

The wind rushes through Kat’s hair as she pedals her way down Chancer Lane, her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the concerned glance of the waiter from the cafe, and the curious stare of Aleks Lipski as he looks up towards her through the bakery window. Quickly, she summons up a smile, throwing her arm in the air and waving as she passes them by. Then, she turns her eyes back to the road, her smile fading as she puts all of her energy into her pedalling, her mind focused solely on her mission.

She’s not panicking. Of course not.

Everything is fine.

But it’s so unlike Ernest to not show up at the agency, let alone for days at a time, without letting her know. And it’s even more unlike him to ignore her calls. Something isn’t right.

Kat hadn’t noticed the first day that he’d been missing. The Layton Detective Agency is buzzing with activity these days: after the news spread that Dad had returned, the people who had been searching for him for all this time gravitated to Kat’s little agency like moths to a flame. Kat’s seen so many people that she hadn’t seen for months or years within the space of a few weeks. Al, Lucy, Flora, and so many others crowded themselves into the building, chatting and crying and laughing, and Kat had been right in the thick of it all, lost in the excitement of Dad’s return.

Within all the chaos, it makes sense that an ordinary person wouldn’t notice Ernest’s absence; he’s quiet at the best of times. But Kat should’ve noticed. She’s solved a hundred mysteries like they were nothing. She’s more observant than the whole police force put together. She should’ve noticed that her loyal assistant wasn’t there.

The weekend passed uneventfully; Katrielle didn’t bother going to the agency, busy as she was with her family. She’d left a message at Ernest’s number, letting him know that she wouldn’t be there. It didn’t bother her too much that he didn’t pick up; it was the weekend, after all.

But come Monday morning, Ernest still wasn’t at the agency, and this time, it was impossible to shrug off his absence. She’d tried to call him in the morning, but there had been no answer. Somewhat rattled, she’d forced a smile and settled down to do some reading and paperwork on her own. Of course, she missed her usual morning tea (yes, she’s capable of making it herself, but Ernest’s tea always tastes best), and she missed simply having him around; the agency just doesn’t feel the same with only she and Sherl in it. But in the end, she’d shrugged it off as best as she could. Perhaps Ernest had slept in today, or wasn’t feeling well. It had been a hectic past few weeks, after all. And perhaps he had been in the agency yesterday, and she just somehow hadn’t noticed.

She left one more call before going home. Still no reply.

Surely he’d be here tomorrow.

But he wasn’t.

Three days without coming to the agency… five days if you count the weekend… Surely she’s not being overly anxious about this? A five day absence isn’t something that she can play off as normal or unusual; it’s completely unlike Ernest to do something like this.

“He’s still not here, Sherl,” she’d said this afternoon, fighting to keep her tone of voice neutral and curious. “Do you… do you think everything’s alright?”

She wasn’t anxious. No, not at all. But she needed Sherl’s reassurance.

“He hasn’t had a day off since Christmas, Kat,” Sherl had said, yawning as he curled up on the sofa. “And you wouldn’t even let him have that whole day off. Even the most loyal of dogsbodies need a chance to curl up and have a rest now and then.”

“But it’s been five days if you count the weekend, and he hasn’t answered any calls.”

Sherl cracked one eye open, then the other, his face creasing into something like a frown. “Well. It is unlike him to leave you on paws like that.” Katrielle could hear the doubt creeping into Sherl’s voice with every word that he spoke.

That’s when she knew that she had to see if Ernest was alright.

If there’s nothing wrong, she can downplay it to Ernest and to Sherl, or to Dad if he asks, playing it off as one of her many whims. Oh, she just happened to want to go on a bike ride, just wanted to burn off some nervous energy on her way home from the agency. And she wouldn’t be lying, not really. She has to get home somehow; she’ll just be taking the scenic route, passing by Ernest’s flat. The… very long, out-of-the-way scenic route, but...

...she won’t be able to sleep tonight until she makes sure that he’s alright.

The sun is already setting by the time she arrives at Bowlyn Hill. Kat throws a half-nervous glance over her shoulder at the statue, with the massive globe upon its shoulders, before making her way down the hill. She’d like to make it to Ernest’s flat alive, if possible.

Before last Christmas Eve, before that evening at Richmond Court, Katrielle hadn’t known that Ernest lived in this part of town, but in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. He had known so much about the area during the Ratman case, and, since he grew up with such a small income, it makes sense that he would live in this area.

Before that night, Kat had really known almost nothing about Ernest. And still, she really knows very little about him, other than the tragic history of his family. He’s still a very private person: of course, he spends most of every day with her, but he works constantly during that time, and certainly doesn’t waste time chatting when he could be cleaning or sorting something that Kat’s made a mess of. And then, he goes home, alone.

At least Kat knows where he lives now: she’s visited his flat once or twice, dropping off something he’s left at the agency, or bringing over one of Rosa’s many treats that she’s “made too much of.” But still, Kat isn’t exactly a Bowlyn Hill regular; it’s easy to get lost here, amid the twisted alleyways and dark roads. She half-wonders if she’s going to get lost as she pedals her way through the streets as quickly as she dares.

At last, Kat pulls up in front of the building where Ernest’s flat is located. The building is noticeably newer and taller than others nearby, but is still coated with the same grime that covers so much of the surrounding area. At least it appears to be all in one piece, unlike many of the other buildings in this area. While some buildings in Bowlyn Hill, like Mrs. Slow’s tailor shop, have a sense of charm, there are many others that are in horrible disrepair.

Kat casts a wary glance behind her toward the old hospital, shut down almost ten years ago, which looks like something out of one of Flora’s murder mysteries. She’d heard the stories of how Dad had been beaten, so many years ago, and had stayed in this very place for weeks. While the Ratmen patrol the streets now and hopefully keep Bowlyn Hill from seeing any more violence like what Dad experienced, Kat can’t help but feel anxiety stir up in her stomach. Did something like that happen to Ernest? Is that why he’s been absent? Is he lying battered in some lonely alley?

Fighting back nausea, Kat hurriedly dismounts from her bicycle, clumsily leaning it against the wall as she rushes to the door of the building, tripping over her own feet as she reaches for the handle—

The door opens.

“M-Miss Layton!”

Ernest stands before her, shock dawning over his face.

He’s alright.

A wave of relief gently washes over Katrielle, and a second wave of self-consciousness slaps her in the face. He’s completely fine, and yet she rushed here in a panic, almost barging through his front door. This is why she should think through things more logically; she shouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her like this…

“I-I’m dreadfully sorry.”

Kat startles, snapping back into reality. Why is he apologizing? She stares at him in confoundment, noticing how he stares through the floor, his hands coming up and clumsily attempting to smooth back his uncombed hair. “It’s been days, I know,” he stutters. “I sincerely apologize… I should have been there; you shouldn’t have had to come look for me...”

Kat realizes too late that she’s simply been standing here, silently staring at him, ever since he flung the door open. She forces a chuckle. “What? Did you think that I came here to scold you?” Kat uses her usual teasing tone, but it’s far from genuine. Is he really that afraid of disappointing her?

Perhaps he’s not alright after all.

“W-well…” Ernest’s fingers slow their movement through his hair, his hand pausing above his eyes. He slowly looks up, meeting Katrielle’s gaze, his gaze half-hidden by his hand. Kat notices, for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I promised myself that I’d do everything I could to help you, and I’ve failed once again.”

Any irritation that Kat might’ve felt at Ernest’s unexplained absence has completely vanished at this point. Her curiosity is in overdrive, but given Ernest’s state, it seems like some tact is called for.

“Nonsense,” she says, gently but matter-of-factly. “Now that we’ve found Dad, the greatest purpose of the Agency has been fulfilled. So I don’t need…” She was about to say that she didn’t need help anymore, but that would wound Ernest’s pride.

(And it would be a lie).

She amends her statement. “I don’t need constant help anymore. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But… but I like helping you.” Ernest bites his lip. “I really do. But I just couldn’t this week, Miss Layton. I should have told you why, but, I…” He stares through the floor. “I… I’m just not sure what to do, and I didn’t want to burden you, when you’ve done so much for me.”

How could Ernest be a burden? Katrielle has helped countless people with simpler matters than whatever’s troubled Ernest so badly. Are her powers of observation so sub-par, that Katrielle didn’t know that he felt like he’d burden her by asking for help?

“It would hardly be a burden, Ernest.” She places a hand on his shoulder, summoning up a confident mask of a smile. “Any mystery solved—that’s my motto. And I want to solve the mystery of why my loyal assistant seems so worryingly unlike his normal self.”

Will this be enough for him to understand that she genuinely wants to help him?

Ernest blinks. He turns away from her once again, but not before Kat spots the pink colouring his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have made you worry about me,” he says slowly. “It’s… it’s been a difficult last few days. But, I… I’m glad you came.” A quiet smile colours his face, so small that it’s almost invisible. Perhaps Katrielle’s powers of observation aren’t completely unreliable after all.

Ernest breaks the silence, clearing his throat. “I was just about to go on a walk, if you’d care to join me, and I’ll try to explain, if you’ll allow me to.”

Kat slowly feels a genuine smile lighting up her own face. “Of course”

They walk together down the street, Katrielle walking her bicycle beside her. She’s not quite sure if the silence between them is comfortable or not—she’s still relieved that Ernest is physically alright, but there’s still something wrong. Will she be able to help him half as much as he’s helped her for all of this time?

Ernest stops suddenly, and Kat blinks, reorienting herself to reality. They stand before the gates of a cemetery. The iron gates are battered and rusted, and Kat can see moss growing over many of the tombstones.

“I come here every Wednesday,” Ernest says quietly as they enter the gates. They walk between the tombstones, the long, damp grass staining their shoes. “Mama passed on a Wednesday. It really wasn’t all that long ago, in the scheme of things, but it’s so hard to remember. It’s all a blur. One moment, I was talking to her in the hospital room, and the next… they’ve… they’ve taken her away.” He keeps walking, his head moving back and forth, his eyes scanning the tombstones on either side of him. “I never knew where she was buried. Nobody ever told me. I come here every week to look, to see if I can find her grave. But I’ve never found it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katrielle says quietly. It’s difficult to know what else to say. She understands the grief of losing a parent as well as Ernest does. But she’d known in her heart that Dad was still alive, and that had given her the strength to go on, to become a great detective and to hone her skills, searching for him. Finding him had been a dream come true. But Ernest’s loss was permanent—

“But—” Ernest bursts out, breaking through Katrielle’s thoughts. “The group home where I stayed after Mama died called me Thursday night. And they said that…” His voice rises in pitch; his rapid breathing is barely constrained. “...that someone named Ms. Richmond came and… and was asking about me.”

Katrielle freezes. “What?”

Ms. Richmond...that must be—

“I know.” Ernest’s hands are shaking. “I don’t know what to think either. How could she still be alive? But I rushed to the group home as soon as I could. But I missed her, and they don’t know where she went. And I’ve been reeling ever since. I’ve called everywhere I could think of. I’ve scoured the city as best I can. And then, when I couldn’t find anything… I locked myself away because I’m… I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” Katrielle repeats his last word gently, eager to find out any further details that Ernest might know.

“I… I don’t know what to do. What if I never find her? Or, what if I find her, and it turns out that she isn’t Mama?” Ernest lets his face fall into his hands. “I… I can’t bear to go through that again: to get my hopes up, only to lose her all over again.” He turns away, staring off into the sea of tombstones. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You have so many other things to think about. You can go home; I’m alright.”

Katrielle’s mind races. How could Ernest’s mother still be alive? A mix-up at the hospital, perhaps? Perhaps she was only at death’s door, and never truly died? Or could this be a bigger conspiracy?

What an intriguing mystery. One that will take a great detective to solve.

After all, Ernest has done so much to help her in her own search for Dad. It’s only fair that she does the same for him.

“Any mystery solved, Ernest.”

Ernest blinks, looking up at her with confusion in his eyes. “Pardon, miss?”

“Any mystery solved.” Kat gives him a smile, hoping that it comes across as reassuring. “It would be better to find out the truth, wouldn’t it? This mystery’s come across your path for a reason. If you don’t solve it, I know that you’d regret it.”

“Yes…” Ernest starts hesitantly. He clasps his hands together, staring down at them as he kneads them anxiously together. “But I… I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you. You’ve helped me look for my dad for so long. One good turn deserves another, wouldn’t you say?” She holds her hand out to him. “What do you say, Ernest?”

For what seems like forever, Ernest stands still, staring toward her; Kat can’t tell whether he’s dumbfounded or whether he’s going to cry.

Did she push too hard?

She’d never wanted to give up on searching for Dad, but in her darkest moments, there were times where she’d thought that it would have been easier if he had actually died, if she didn’t have to explain to everyone (including herself) that he was missing. She regrets thinking that way, but perhaps Ernest doesn’t. Perhaps he wants to leave the past in the past—

“Miss Layton…”

Ernest’s voice cuts through Kat’s thoughts. She blinks, refocusing her gaze on his face, noticing his tiny smile, and the teary shine in his eyes. “Thank you… thank you so much,” he says, his voice trembling. “Even… even you simply coming to see me means so much, but offering to help me…” He chuckles weakly, looking away, swiping at his eyes with one hand. “I’m supposed to be the assistant, but ever since I’ve known you, you’ve assisted me far more than I ever have assisted you.”

He’s far too hard on himself. “Nonsense, Ernest. You’re the best of assistants. It only makes sense that I’d want to help you now and again, don’t you think?” She sets her hand on his shoulder, hoping that it will come across as a comforting gesture. She’ll let go of a little of her pride, just this once; she wants to see him as his usual self again. “Besides, this is your case. So perhaps you don’t need to be an assistant this time.”

“O-oh! Well, that doesn’t sound right--you being my assistant.” Ernest chuckles again, but this time it sounds a little more natural; beneath her hand, Kat can feel the tension in his shoulder leaving by the second. He looks up, meeting her gaze with a hesitant smile. “But thank you. I… I do want your help, if you’re willing to give it to me.”

“Of course I am. Whenever you’re ready to begin the search, I’ll be there.”

Ernest smiles again, but Kat can still see pain behind his eyes.“I’m almost ready,” he says. “Just one moment.” He turns away. Kat watches his eyes scan the gravestones, as if searching one last time for the elusive stone engraved with his mother’s name.

She’s impatient to begin the search, but Kat forces her feet to stay still, forcing herself to stay silent as he surveys the graveyard. She’ll give him this moment. He helped her day in and day out searching for her father for more than a year. She can wait for him.