It was times like these when Timothy wished decisions were always the easiest things to make. For years, he had been alone, having chosen this lonely path to walk without the mere guidance or company of any other. He wasn't a simple man in the slightest, that much anyone who knew him could tell, and while he'd been content with these past lonesome years' life has given to him, there was a light to this darkened tunnel that was trying its damnedest to draw him in. And he wasn't easily swayed either.
Timothy told himself he would much rather spend the last of his days by himself, go about his day in the usual fashions if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer, and so far, since the incident, that's exactly how his life has been. Timothy woke up in the morning, got dressed, tended to the vegetable garden, perhaps took on a request, and then ended up here at Reynolds Parlor.
That was the kind of life he was used to, and while it sometimes called for him to take a loaded gun and pull the trigger, use a blade to carve away someone else's life, or even use his bare hands to do the work he was paid to finish, Timothy saw no wrong in how he lived. Though he never voiced the complaints, he would most certainly give almost anything to make it stop. He didn't want to look into soulless eyes anymore, feel the warmth of foreign blood on his hands, or watch as the body of his next victim was scorched from existence. The problem was...
...Timothy didn't know how to stop.
That was such a foolish thing to say, and Timothy knew it. Who didn't know how to just stop doing something they disapproved of? He hadn't a condition or anyone controlling the fact that he took up these jobs. All in all, Timothy hadn't a good enough excuse as to why he did these things. This blood and death that followed him everywhere he went, the ghostly aftershocks of images that filtered into his consciousness, he'd earned each and every one of them. And that...that was something he wanted to make sure never happened to Jasper. A man who was already bothered by the false hopes that his loved one was still alive; someone like that shouldn't also bear the heavy burden of many more treacherous illusions.
While Timothy sat there at the bar in Reynolds, he considered Jasper Lancechester the kind of man who didn't heed such warnings, and with that consideration in mind, he stood from his stool then and slid his unfinished drink towards Simon.
"So you're going after him?" he was asked.
Without speaking, Timothy started away from the bar and neared the stairs. He had to stop Jasper anyway he could from committing the same mistakes he had. The Master was far too vulnerable of a man to stoop to a level as low as his, and he wanted to make sure nothing of the sort happened.
When he turned to start up the stairwell, Timothy stopped suddenly when Jasper was still there. He was seated on the middle step with his wounded leg outstretched, and was leaned against the side of the wall.
"Jasper," the dark-haired man neared him, a soft furrow in his brow, "Did you hurt yourself?"
The Master looked shamefully down at himself, placing the walking stick across his lap. "No," he sighed tiredly, "I was just taking the time to think about what you said. That, and the stairs wore me out."
"I'm sorry," Timothy held a hand out to him, "Let me help you."
"Actually, do you mind if we just sit here?"
"Not at all."
When Timothy climbed the few steps and took a seat beside Jasper, the two didn't say anything to one another for a moment, but after a minute of gathering his thoughts, the Master glanced to the man beside him, and said, "Last night, can I ask why you were still awake? I have a hard time sleeping while it rains for the noise, and it is even more difficult to read with the thunder."
"There isn't much a reason behind it," Timothy answered, "I am only someone who has a difficult time getting to sleep; although, I am glad that I was awake during that particular storm. Someone needed to find you."
"And for that I will be forever grateful," Jasper said. "I do wish there was some way I could properly thank you for saving me, but I'm afraid you do not seem like the kind of man who accepts gifts. Please, if there is absolutely anything I could do for you, give you for what you did for me, speak it and I will be sure you have it."
Timothy pursed his lips together and looked down at his hands, "I, too, am afraid any offering would go to waste. I spend all my money here, wear the same pairs of clothing, and haven't use for anything such as gifts. It would be better if you kept everything to yourself."
"You know, Mr. Creel, you do not have to be so humble all the time."
Looking up at Jasper then, Timothy stared into the wonderful sapphire eyes staring back at him. They were so breathtaking as was the entirety of Jasper Lancechester. Even for a man, his appearance was so elegant and gracefully divine. His blond hair, ethereal eyes, and he couldn't deny the attractive features that made up the man's build. Jasper was just everything appealing all wrapped into one human being, and Timothy could easily speak that it was Jasper himself he wouldn't mind having for just a day and a night, but those selfish thoughts went against everything Timothy Creel represented.
"I'm sorry for being a rather dull man," he said at last.
"Oh, would the both of ya's kiss already?"
Timothy and Jasper looked further up the stairwell where the woman who watched the door was sitting. A book was in her hands, and she shook her head disappointedly. "I don't know who you are, sir," she said to Jasper, "But why don't you go on and wrap Mr. Creel there around your finger? The bloke needs some good lovin'."
"Ignore her," the dark-haired man looked embarrassed, but the comment was enough to make him smile a little.
"It is quite alright," Jasper shrugged, "Darcy has grown rather fond of you as well, and not a moment seems to go by where she doesn't speak of you that way."
"I see."
Jasper said nothing as he watched Mr. Creel beside him, noticing how the man's eyes strayed from his gaze and to his lips. The Master waited and waited for something else to happen, waited for Timothy to either speak or even move an inch closer to him, but when all Timothy did was look away, Jasper said, "I should get home. Darcy will wonder where I've gone off to if she has already returned."
"I'll walk you," Timothy said, offering his hand to assist the Master up the narrow stairwell.
Hesitant for only a second, Jasper slipped his hand into the other man's. He took each step carefully as to not disturb the stitches in his foot, and once they were at the top, they exited the secret location in the backstreet. Jasper was sure to pull the hood to his cape up once more, shrouded beneath the black piece of clothing. Timothy, on the other hand, walked nonchalantly beside him, open to the full view of the surrounding public.
Taking his pace slow, Jasper started back in the direction of the coach that was waiting for him. "Mr. Creel, if you don't mind my asking, do you have any family in these parts?"
"No, I don't," the other man answered, "I have been without family for some time now."
Jasper hummed, watching the civilians of Banemount in the distance. There were children following their mothers like scurrying pups, loaded buggies carrying their deliveries or whole families, and there were average people walking and going about their daily lives. "Do you get lonely, Mr. Creel? Being as you haven't anyone?"
There was no response.
"Please, accept my apologies if the question was insensitive."
"You are quite all right," Timothy said. "As far as I know, I should still have family out in Islesbury, a sister and a brother, mother and father, but it did come to my attention not long ago that my father has passed. Given I am not associated with any of them anymore, I feel I haven't a right to involve myself in their affairs."
Jasper stopped momentarily when he stepped on the small drop off of a hole in the ground, and then continued on again when he regained his focus, moving on with the cane acting as a third leg. "I am not very close to my family either. My mother and my grandparents were the only people who were ever truly dear to me whom I shared blood with, but all of them have passed as well. Recently I have gotten a little closer to my half-sister, Beatrice, but given her distant home, we do not see each other very often."
The walking pair stopped then, waiting for a rolling cart carrying small crates of freshly picked strawberries to go by, and when it was gone, Jasper asked, "Do you ever think about seeing them again? Your family? I may sound like a hypocrite given my unstable relationship with my father, but it really is nice to have at least those few people to rely on. After my mother died, those people became my grandparents, and since they are gone as well, Darcy, Juliette and the occasional Beatrice are all I have."
Timothy locked his hands behind his back, keeping steady with Jasper's slow pace as they moved through the city. "I did not leave my family on bad terms," he said then, making sure his voice was low enough for only the Master to hear. "My father was the only one who knew of my attraction to my past lover, and I am confident in saying he never told another soul. My sister never had time for anyone else unless they were attempting to marry her, and my brother was too neglectful to anyone but his fiancée, so I'm sure he never cared when I decided to leave."
"And your mother?" Jasper asked.
"She was a...kind woman. Oblivious to important things going on around her, but she was a kind woman. When I decided to leave, it was the night of my youngest brother's passing. He was ill, incurable, but my mother loved him. I can only imagine what she must have felt when she realized I had left."
"An attentive mother, I believe, is the most important person in a child's life. They could have siblings and a father, aunts and uncles, but it is the love of a good mother I feel all children need. Without it..."
Timothy looked towards Jasper when he stopped speaking suddenly. The Master was looking ahead of him, in the direction of where his coach was stalled, and there seemed to be a one-sided argument taking place between a nicely dressed nobleman that Jasper recognized and Alexander.
Alexander was standing outside the coach, hands held together in front of him and his head was down, looking submissive as the white-skinned man before him belittled him angrily. "You thinks you somethin' special now?" the man asked. "Look at ya's, all dressed up in a butler's uniform like yous some high and mighty Gentleman. You ain't never gonna be anything worth somethin'. And I bets you think you all free now and all 'at, aye? Oh, what a free man workin' the same jobs as yous did for my family. Yous just a workhorse. Nothin' more, maybe a little somethin' less."
"Pardon me," Jasper said, coming up on the verbal insults, Timothy at his side. "I couldn't help overhearing you, and it seems you are disturbing Mr. Alexander."
"Mister?" the nobleman said, finding hilarity in the Master's choice of words. "Are yous blind under that hood? He ain't no Mister. I'll have you know he used to work for my family before he done went and quit in the middle of his duties."
"My Lord," Alexander lowered his head more, "It is all right."
"No, it is not, Alexander. I want this man to apologize to you, for it does seem he has disturbed you while you were doing absolutely nothing but following my previous order."
The nobleman scoffed and threw his head back in laughter, "Yous gonna have to break me jaw before I apologize to this man. He ain't nothing but a n—."
Before the hateful term could leave the nobleman's mouth, Jasper raised his walking stick and smashed it down into the other man's foot. He yelped and fell to the ground, attracting the eyes of on-lookers as he cradled his aching toes.
"Ow!" he cried out, "Why you little—." Jasper pulled his hood back then and glared up at the man, and he came to recognize the Master right away. "J—Jasper Lancechester?" he stammered.
"Hello, Mr. Reed," Jasper said. "Suddenly I have gotten the urge to decline those proposals you and your father made to me the other night during my party. Sadly enough it was my say that would have given you legal right to profit off of my westward lands, but given how bigoted and quite insolent you portray yourself outside of my presence, I believe you are going to have to deliver your father the upsetting news that my land will remain untouched."
"Master Jasper, please," the nobleman attempted to refrain from losing the previously discussed deal, but his words went unheard.
"Run along, Mr. Reed. I would rather not do business with men like you."
The nobleman almost jumped for Jasper as if to grovel against him, but Timothy was quick to put an arm out to stop Mr. Reed, cutting off the man's air supply with a hard palm thrust to his chest. "It would be wise of you not to take another step," Timothy warned, "or I will dispose of your nuisance myself."
Mr. Reed swallowed fearfully, meeting the promise of pain in Timothy's eyes, and then turned quickly to start away from them. "Thank you, my Lord," Alexander said woefully, "I did not mean to cause you trouble."
"There is no need for your apology, Alexander," and then Jasper looked up to the top of the coach where the handler was sitting as though nothing had gone on below. "Pardon me," he called up to the man, tapping the side of the coach with his cane. "Why did you not stop Mr. Reed from demeaning Alexander as he did?"
"He is deaf, my Lord," Alexander defended. "Mister Cornell cannot hear."
"Oh," Jasper realized. "Lucky lad, I was going to fire him if he simply had not cared."
Alexander smiled to himself and then opened the side door to the coach. "Are you ready to head back to the manor now? It is about time the cooks start dinner."
"Yes, actually," Jasper nodded, glancing up to Timothy who was still stood in front of him. "It is merely a question, but would you like to join me — us for dinner again? Hopefully coming rain will not keep you like before, but you are more than welcome to join us."
Timothy wasn't sure for a moment, but it would be a lie to say he wasn't feeling empty, and while he had food of his own to cook at his home, the meal he'd had the day before at the Lancechester manor was indeed delightful. And...he knew a conversation he'd much rather not have would instill if he returned to Reynolds. Simon, undoubtedly had questions. "I — uh — I would like that," Timothy said, "Please, after you."
When they were inside the coach, Alexander taking a seat at the top rather than inside, their journey back to the Lancechester manor began, and while majority of the ride was quiet, the silence was exterminated when Jasper said, "When I came to you earlier to ask if you would kill my father, I must have looked like a complete madman to you."
"No," Timothy shook his head to reassure the Master, "Not a madman, just a man in need."
"What is it do you think I need?"
"I don't know, Jasper, but it does not include the blood of your own father on your hands. You don't need those images in your mind day and night. They would ruin you far more than you consider how ruined you already are." Timothy glanced out of the small window of the coach, watching the land go by as they traveled. "I cannot speak for the pain you have felt in your life, and you will never understand all that I have been through and done. But if there is one piece of information that I can pass down to you, it would be to release the grudges you hold on to."
"Have you unleashed yours?" Jasper asked.
"No," Timothy seemed to scoff at himself, "I am incapable of such a thing. My...anger, my rage for this world, for what people even in their right minds have the audacity to do, it brings evolution to these livid flashes in my mind, and I haven't the strength to get rid of them. Time and again I consider the idea that I hold on to these toxic feelings because I don't want to let go."
"You're afraid," Jasper said, and he met Timothy's eyes when they looked each other's way. "You're afraid you will let your guard down again."
"You could be right," Timothy didn't argue. "So with that in mind, I hope it will quell at least a portion of the hatred you have inside of you. You are too—," he stopped and started over. "You don't need those feelings in your heart."
***
"How wonderful!" Darcy exclaimed, hurrying from her seat in the crafts room. She'd been trying her hand at painting, and while her hands weren't the most tidy, and a wet brush was still between her fingertips, she scurried happily for Jasper who appeared in the doorway. "I am so glad you brought Mr. Creel with you for dinner. The more guests, the merrier, yes?"
"More?" Jasper spoke when he was released from his wife's clutches. "Did you invite someone as well?"
"Heavens no, I am just pleased to see Mr. Creel again."
Timothy acknowledged the Lady with a nod from the doorway. He quite enjoyed her enthusiasm, and the love she had for Jasper was truly a genuine spectacle. It was accurate to say they were not lovers, but the bond Jasper and Darcy shared through their friendship could likely be mistaken for true love.
"If you all will excuse me for a moment," Jasper said, "I am going to change into something a little more comfortable for dinner."
When the Master left the room, he took his time climbing the stairs to the second floor. While he did want to change his trousers and shirt, there was somewhere else he felt the need to stop before doing so. He went to his library and stood in the large archway as he gazed inside. It was lit brightly due to the open curtains, the towering and filled shelves adorned with numerous books, and of course there was the portrait of Elijah just above the fireplace.
The red-haired, green-eyed image stared at Jasper as he went inside, and when he entered all the way, the Master stood below the familiar depiction.
Jasper shut his eyes and closed his fists, breathing easily as if he was training himself to do so. As he expelled air slowly from his lungs, Jasper screamed at himself internally to not cry, to not feel this solid form of guilt building up in his being, the same one he felt while at Reynolds.
"How could you?" he heard his own voice in his thoughts, "How could you possibly betray him this way?"
The Master didn't want to consider this betrayal true, but it was a gradual formation taking place in his heart, and no matter how hard he thought to get rid of these prolonged moments of weakness, Jasper still found that he was trapped in this bubble he couldn't find his freedom from.
Timothy Creel, he was a handsome man, he was a considerate man, and so kind despite his undocumented records. For a man so bathed in the blood of others, and was so consumed as well by darkness, how could Jasper possibly feel even the slightest for him?
These feelings petrified the Master more than anything, but as he looked up at the green eyes gazing down at him, the disapproval and upset he thought would be bestowed onto him by Elijah unsurprisingly frightening him even more.
Was Jasper wrong to find Timothy welcoming?
"I'm so sorry," Jasper whispered as if the boy in the portrait could perceive him. "I don't mean to feel this way, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. I'm so sorry, Elijah."
Jasper jumped suddenly when the loud smack of a book struck the floor to his right, turning quickly to see if anyone was there. The room was empty of anyone else still, but there was a book lain on the floor. The Master neared it and picked it into his hands. It was a thin book of poems collected from different writers, and this particular book had landed on a translated poem called 'I Loved You' by Alexander Pushkin.
He knew this poem well, the translated version, but in any translation, the meaning behind it was understood perfectly. It was written to express the true love once felt for another person, only to be content with the loss of this love, and the hopes that this lost love would someday be loved by another.
Rereading the poem to himself, Jasper held the thin leather sewn book to his chest, unable to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. "Are you — are you here?" he asked the empty room. "How could you want this?"
Nothing but silence surrounded Jasper.
"If you are listening from wherever you have gone, I cannot do this, Elijah," he said then. "To betray you, would be to turn my back on everything we had."
Fearful of his own doings, Jasper took the book with him into the hall, and when he found the nearest housekeeper, he ordered her to tell Darcy, Juliette and Timothy that he would not be joining them for dinner.