Paradox Lost: Part 9
Helena and Harold Layton take center stage for much of this and one of Luke's memories shows the paradox that was fulfilled by the events in the last chapter.
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Paradox Lost
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hershel rushed inside the house, crying and shrieking for help, gathering the attentions of a few of the maids in their clean up duties. One knelt and held out her hands to him.
"Master Hershel! Calm down! Whatever is the matter?" she asked worriedly and Hershel grabbed onto her hand, tugging insistently.
"Sir Luke's in trouble! There's a man outside who was watching him and Luke told me to come inside and get help!" he cried, waving an arm towards the door, "Please! Help me!" The maids all rushed to him immediately, chattering excitedly as they followed Hershel back to the front doors of the manor. Sir Luke was in trouble! They couldn't let anything happen to that handsome young teacher, heavens no!
They poured out of the manor in a flock of black and white dresses and pinafores, spreading out to call Luke's name and search the grounds for signs of the intruder. Hershel hurried towards the fountain, where he spotted some movement and heard violent thrashing, the sounds of water being splashed around. Several of the maids joined him in running for the fountain, calling out for Sir Luke and helpfully adding in 'Murder! Rape! Villainy!' to draw attention to that specific spot.
A shadowy figure jumped back, startled, then rushed into the cover of the topiaries and trees as Hershel's group reached them. Luke lay in the water of the fountain, coughing and gasping for air, an absolute mess after the struggle he had put up. Hershel wailed and sat down on the ground, hands lifted to his eyes as the maids set to work pulling the bound teenager from the basin and setting him onto the cobblestone drive. They couldn't make heads or tails of the thick black bands that held his arms and legs immobile, but the girls set to work cutting through them with whatever scissors they had on hand for sewing.
"Master Hershel, please don't cry. Sir Luke is safe now and we've chased away the bad man that did this." one of the maids tried to comfort the boy.
"But! But! But! But he almost drowned!" Hershel sobbed, "And it would have been my fault! I brought him outside to see the fountain and the man followed us and Luke told me to run away and then... and then...!"
"H-He-sch-il...." Luke choked out, coughing up water as the maids gathered around him to keep him supported, some of them fanning air towards him. The boy looked over at him in shock, then quickly crawled to his side, throwing his arms around him in a hug and sobbing his apologies anew. Luke lifted a hand, reaching blindly before touching on his back. A weak hug and then Luke faded from awareness, causing Hershel to scream in a panic all over again.
--
It had taken the efforts of his mother and father combined to get Hershel to stop screaming as the maids tended to Sir Luke for the second time that week. Even then, Harold had given up on getting his son to do anything but stare in vacant-eyed horror, arms stretched out as though trying to grab the young man in the next room for protection. As a last resort, which Helena greatly disapproved of, he dipped his handkerchief in a small amount of chloroform and held it to Hershel's nose. His eyes widened even further, then slowly closed, the boy sinking into his bed with a haggard sigh.
"An unpleasant sleep aid." Helena huffed, sitting on the bed and running her fingers through Hershel's hair, stroking his face to smooth away the frantic lines and soothe his still restless slumber. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Go check on Luke; see if he's recovered from that attack. We won't be calling the constable for this." she added firmly. Harold lifted an eyebrow, then dipped his head and left the room.
The maids had settled down some, going about their work with a grim silence as clothes were gathered to change Sir Luke's outfit and a certain dagger was stowed in the young man's satchel. Harold stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the mentor his wife had hired with a strange mix of emotions; disdain, concern, apprehension. He couldn't understand Helena's fascination with him, nor his son's vicious attachment, strong enough to rend all manner of sense from his head at the sight of him in danger. Luke didn't look like much to him, and dressed like a young man of the lesser income families. If anything, he should have been hired as a serving boy. Yet the quality of gentlemanly behavior he presented was of the upper class; Layton quality, if he didn't know better.
The young man lay there in equally restless sleep, twisting and turning from time to time, sluggishly though, evidence of a drug having been used on him. Noting that he moved similarly to Hershel, Harold concluded that the attacker had also administered chloroform. To kill Luke? He reached down, fingering the creases on the collar of Luke's shirt, then stroking the young man's hair lightly with the back of his hand. His bangs were drier in comparison to the rest of his hair. Harold lifted his hand to his chin in thought, considering what he was able to glean from the maids and this new information. Whoever attacked the young man was looking to capture him, not kill. His collar was creased badly, from being grabbed roughly. His hair was drier around his face than anywhere else, from having his face exposed to air soon after his evening plunge. Someone had pulled him from the fountain, trying to gain control over him.
A quick check of Luke's arms by carefully pushing up the sleeves revealed scrapes and bruises. Obviously, Luke had struggled against his attempted kidnapper, so the criminal used chloroform to subdue him. By then the maids had reached them and he was abandoned, staying conscious just long enough to try assuring Hershel. No help there; if anything he made Hershel even more panicked. The real question now was simply this; did Luke see the face of his attacker?
Luke groaned softly, face twisting into a faint grimace as his fingers twitched.
"Professor...." he murmured, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes. Harold left the room immediately after.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Getting Hershel to school the next day was a riot. The boy screamed in protest, refused to leave his bed and kicked his school clothes off the dresser. When the maids tried dressing him by force, he broke free and ran for the room where Luke stayed, sending the maids out there into a flurry of red faces and covered eyes at seeing their youngest master running about buck-naked. Hershel was akin to demon possessed in his efforts to get out of leaving the house. Harold tried his usual list of threats and punishments, roaring louder and louder, and nothing got through. Helena stepped in before anything more physically threatening could take place and pulled Hershel aside. Whatever she said to his ear had worked, for his eyes suddenly went wide and he rushed for his room, not coming out until he was properly dressed, had his little silk hat in place and carried his own school satchel at his side. Smiling gently, Helena led him out to be taken by the chauffeur to school, only to discover the boy had developed a fear of the fountain, screaming again at the sight of it.
Once Hershel was finally out of sight and out of mind in that lovely purgatory called school, the two of them set their sights on discovering what exactly had happened that night at the fountain.
They searched the fountain itself first, ordering the maids to reconstruct what they saw and did to best of their ability. The black bands were retrieved from inside the house and given to Harold and Helena for examination. Helena turned them over in her hands, passing one of the two sets over to her husband for inspection. He eyed them carefully, pulling at their ends and frowning.
"Elastic of some kind. Not quite rubber, but very close. Difficult to cut through, these ends are very uneven." he commented gruffly.
"They are rather wide and soft, to avoid doing too much harm. These were meant to bind and hold, not bind and crush." Helena added softly, placing her set with her husband and walking to the fountain, eyeing it carefully before turning to the maids, "Did Sir Luke have any injuries to his legs?" A few of them blushed profusely and one stepped forward, stammering her answer.
"Y-yes, Madam. There was a bruise on his right shin that we noticed when changing his clothing. We've bandaged it as well as his arms. There was also a small scrape on his cheek that we also bandaged." she reported and stepped back. Helena frowned slightly and looked back at her husband.
"Most probably came from his struggling against the chloroform being pressed to his nose and mouth." he concluded, pushing his glasses up his nose. Helena turned around and stood by the fountain, a pensive expression on her face.
"He bruised his right shin, so he was standing like this when he fell in." she murmured and began walking forward, "Luke is a rather alert and wary young man. If he heard anything suspicious, he would turn in the direction of the sound. If he faced this way before falling, then the origin of his suspicions must lie in this direction." The maids and her husband followed her, carefully looking around until one of the maids squealed, pointing at something in the grass. Harold and Helena rushed to her and looked at where she pointed.
A pile of strange metal pieces lay broken among the grass, near a pair of footprints far too large to belong to anyone in the Layton estate. Harold knelt and pulled out a handkerchief, moving the metal around until he got a semblance of what it used to be. Some sort of rifle, but of a fantastic design.
"Someone was pointing this at my son." he growled dangerously, standing up as Helena put her finger to her chin again.
"No, dear. They were shooting at Luke. Luke and Hershel were outside, Hershel spotted the stranger and Luke sent him inside the house for safety. Once Hershel had left, Luke was attacked and nearly kidnapped." the woman deduced and her eyes glittered again, "To this intruder, Luke was far more valuable to obtain than our little boy."
"But, why? Hershel is a Layton; our wealth and prestige makes us among some of the most famous in the city, if not the country!" Harold protested, waving a hand wildly in irritation, "What about that teacher makes him a fairer prize than a Layton?!" Helena laughed cheerily behind her hand.
"Therein lies the puzzle, dearest!" she teased and began walking back to the house, "Let's see if our dear Sir Luke is well enough to shine a little light on this for you."
--
"I don't remember anything." Luke stated flatly, looking out the window with a scowl rather than facing the two Laytons, arms folded over his chest as he sat in bed, "I didn't see anything either. I heard some noises, I felt myself getting tangled in something, then I fell in the fountain. Someone tried to pull me out, but the streetlights were behind them, so I couldn't see. Then I felt light-headed and passed out. I don't know anything else, and if I did anything else, I don't remember." Harold and Helena glanced at each other from their chairs, then looked back at him with more scrutiny.
"What of the lights from the manor? Surely they would have cast illumination on the face of your attacker." Harold remarked dubiously. Luke seemed to tighten his expression before resuming the uncaring look.
"The fountain basins were blocking the light behind me, so nothing could get through to do so." he muttered and sighed harshly, "Look, I appreciate you wanting to know who did this to exact some justice, but it doesn't matter to me. All I wish to know is if Hershel is safe. That's all I care about now."
"He is perfectly fine. He is in school right now, safe and sound." Helena returned, a strange smile on her face, "But he's developed an irrational fear of the fountain outside now. Absolutely won't go near it without screaming his lungs loose." Luke closed his eyes in a pained expression.
"Bloody hell, so that explains...." he whispered and cut himself off, running his hands through his hair, "I am deeply sorry for that, Lady Layton, Sir Layton. If there's anything I can do to make amends for causing that...."
"Tell us what you really saw, then, boy." Harold growled, "You're keeping a secret and my wife knows it. She's giving you the chance to clear yourself." Luke only sat there, mouth closed in a thin line as he glared back at the older man.
"He smelled of smoke, and something acrid. I remember that scent from when I was a child." he finally muttered, "And the rest is best left unsaid, for your own sakes as well as mine." He lifted a hand to his temple, grimacing slightly. "Please, may I be left alone for now? I feel horrid and some rest would probably be helpful." he added weakly. The Laytons stood and left the room in silence. Helena paused at the doorway, then looked back at the young man in bed.
"Sir Luke, I do not know the details of your past, nor can I clearly understand them." she admitted softly, "But I do know that for reasons beyond our knowledge, you are here for a purpose, and at the same time, not. Why else would you alternate between keeping my son at your side and pushing him away from yourself?" With that, she left the room, Luke staring after her with startled eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Professor walked around the pantries in the kitchen, then peered into the cooler, taking notes on what needed to be bought to replenish their food stores. Luke sat at the table, watching him with the same adoration he always felt for his mentor. He made even the slightest tasks seem so refined and Luke always felt blessed that he was the great man's apprentice and assistant. After a few minutes, the gentleman stood still, looking out a window with a slight frown before turning to him cheerfully.
"Luke, my boy, why don't you and Flora do the shopping today? I have some matters to attend to in the office. Once I've cleared them up, I'll come join you at the market." he suggested and Luke's smile dropped away in disappointment.
"But, Professor, we always go shopping together! Can't those matters wait until after we get back? Please?" he whined and the older man only smiled wider and shook his head.
"Now, Luke, this would be a good lesson on maintaining your behavior without my constant presence. Are you able to correct yourself without needing me?" he remarked and winked at him, "I have every confidence you can, Luke." He handed the list to him and a wallet. "Run along now, you and Flora both. I shouldn't be more than an hour behind you, all right?" Luke sighed dejectedly as he accepted the list and money.
"If you say so, Professor." he murmured and headed out of the kitchen. He stopped for a second, out of a strange impulse, and looked back at his mentor, confused as to why he still stood in the kitchen, eyes straying towards the window even as he pushed the chair Luke had abandoned back under the table. Shrugging it off as one of the Professor's little quirks, he resumed his own little quest. "Flora! The Professor wants us to go shopping without him today!" he called out and the girl rushed downstairs with her jacket on, a puzzled look on her face.
"But why? We always do the grocery shopping together." she questioned and Luke shrugged.
"He said he had some things to do and will catch up to us later." he replied and grinned, holding up the list and wallet, "Let's get started! If we hurry with the groceries, we can meet him halfway and then go to the park and feed the fish! Maybe even get another picture!" Flora laughed joyfully as she walked with him out of the house.
"What a wonderful idea, Luke! But you know he won't go near the fountain. He always tells us to be very careful around it." she reminded him and the boy sighed, rolling his eyes even as he smiled at the memory of the Professor's vocal objections to going near the park's fountain the first time he saw it.
"It's not even that deep. Why on earth is he so scared of it?" he remarked, then laughed as he answered his own question, "Oh! Maybe he's afraid that the fish will jump and splash him with water!" They laughed over such a silly idea as they went on their way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Noooo!" Luke screamed out, thrashing in bed until he was upright and reaching out blindly, trying desperately to pull them back, to drag his younger self and Flora back into the house where they could at least hold the attention of whomever it was that had killed the Professor that day. And then the dream faded and true vision sank in and Luke could only hug himself and sob bitterly over his knowledge. What had happened to him here had already affected the future for this time; Professor Layton disliked fountains greatly and he had never known why until now. His fault, it was all his fault. He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes as he dug the fingers of one hand into his hair to hold his head and quell the throbbing. "Just hang on, Professor. Hang in there, Luke. All you need to do is prevent that murder, and wait for the thirteenth hour." he whispered, "Everything will sort itself out on the thirteenth hour."
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Paradox Lost
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hershel rushed inside the house, crying and shrieking for help, gathering the attentions of a few of the maids in their clean up duties. One knelt and held out her hands to him.
"Master Hershel! Calm down! Whatever is the matter?" she asked worriedly and Hershel grabbed onto her hand, tugging insistently.
"Sir Luke's in trouble! There's a man outside who was watching him and Luke told me to come inside and get help!" he cried, waving an arm towards the door, "Please! Help me!" The maids all rushed to him immediately, chattering excitedly as they followed Hershel back to the front doors of the manor. Sir Luke was in trouble! They couldn't let anything happen to that handsome young teacher, heavens no!
They poured out of the manor in a flock of black and white dresses and pinafores, spreading out to call Luke's name and search the grounds for signs of the intruder. Hershel hurried towards the fountain, where he spotted some movement and heard violent thrashing, the sounds of water being splashed around. Several of the maids joined him in running for the fountain, calling out for Sir Luke and helpfully adding in 'Murder! Rape! Villainy!' to draw attention to that specific spot.
A shadowy figure jumped back, startled, then rushed into the cover of the topiaries and trees as Hershel's group reached them. Luke lay in the water of the fountain, coughing and gasping for air, an absolute mess after the struggle he had put up. Hershel wailed and sat down on the ground, hands lifted to his eyes as the maids set to work pulling the bound teenager from the basin and setting him onto the cobblestone drive. They couldn't make heads or tails of the thick black bands that held his arms and legs immobile, but the girls set to work cutting through them with whatever scissors they had on hand for sewing.
"Master Hershel, please don't cry. Sir Luke is safe now and we've chased away the bad man that did this." one of the maids tried to comfort the boy.
"But! But! But! But he almost drowned!" Hershel sobbed, "And it would have been my fault! I brought him outside to see the fountain and the man followed us and Luke told me to run away and then... and then...!"
"H-He-sch-il...." Luke choked out, coughing up water as the maids gathered around him to keep him supported, some of them fanning air towards him. The boy looked over at him in shock, then quickly crawled to his side, throwing his arms around him in a hug and sobbing his apologies anew. Luke lifted a hand, reaching blindly before touching on his back. A weak hug and then Luke faded from awareness, causing Hershel to scream in a panic all over again.
--
It had taken the efforts of his mother and father combined to get Hershel to stop screaming as the maids tended to Sir Luke for the second time that week. Even then, Harold had given up on getting his son to do anything but stare in vacant-eyed horror, arms stretched out as though trying to grab the young man in the next room for protection. As a last resort, which Helena greatly disapproved of, he dipped his handkerchief in a small amount of chloroform and held it to Hershel's nose. His eyes widened even further, then slowly closed, the boy sinking into his bed with a haggard sigh.
"An unpleasant sleep aid." Helena huffed, sitting on the bed and running her fingers through Hershel's hair, stroking his face to smooth away the frantic lines and soothe his still restless slumber. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Go check on Luke; see if he's recovered from that attack. We won't be calling the constable for this." she added firmly. Harold lifted an eyebrow, then dipped his head and left the room.
The maids had settled down some, going about their work with a grim silence as clothes were gathered to change Sir Luke's outfit and a certain dagger was stowed in the young man's satchel. Harold stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the mentor his wife had hired with a strange mix of emotions; disdain, concern, apprehension. He couldn't understand Helena's fascination with him, nor his son's vicious attachment, strong enough to rend all manner of sense from his head at the sight of him in danger. Luke didn't look like much to him, and dressed like a young man of the lesser income families. If anything, he should have been hired as a serving boy. Yet the quality of gentlemanly behavior he presented was of the upper class; Layton quality, if he didn't know better.
The young man lay there in equally restless sleep, twisting and turning from time to time, sluggishly though, evidence of a drug having been used on him. Noting that he moved similarly to Hershel, Harold concluded that the attacker had also administered chloroform. To kill Luke? He reached down, fingering the creases on the collar of Luke's shirt, then stroking the young man's hair lightly with the back of his hand. His bangs were drier in comparison to the rest of his hair. Harold lifted his hand to his chin in thought, considering what he was able to glean from the maids and this new information. Whoever attacked the young man was looking to capture him, not kill. His collar was creased badly, from being grabbed roughly. His hair was drier around his face than anywhere else, from having his face exposed to air soon after his evening plunge. Someone had pulled him from the fountain, trying to gain control over him.
A quick check of Luke's arms by carefully pushing up the sleeves revealed scrapes and bruises. Obviously, Luke had struggled against his attempted kidnapper, so the criminal used chloroform to subdue him. By then the maids had reached them and he was abandoned, staying conscious just long enough to try assuring Hershel. No help there; if anything he made Hershel even more panicked. The real question now was simply this; did Luke see the face of his attacker?
Luke groaned softly, face twisting into a faint grimace as his fingers twitched.
"Professor...." he murmured, tears seeping from the corners of his eyes. Harold left the room immediately after.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Getting Hershel to school the next day was a riot. The boy screamed in protest, refused to leave his bed and kicked his school clothes off the dresser. When the maids tried dressing him by force, he broke free and ran for the room where Luke stayed, sending the maids out there into a flurry of red faces and covered eyes at seeing their youngest master running about buck-naked. Hershel was akin to demon possessed in his efforts to get out of leaving the house. Harold tried his usual list of threats and punishments, roaring louder and louder, and nothing got through. Helena stepped in before anything more physically threatening could take place and pulled Hershel aside. Whatever she said to his ear had worked, for his eyes suddenly went wide and he rushed for his room, not coming out until he was properly dressed, had his little silk hat in place and carried his own school satchel at his side. Smiling gently, Helena led him out to be taken by the chauffeur to school, only to discover the boy had developed a fear of the fountain, screaming again at the sight of it.
Once Hershel was finally out of sight and out of mind in that lovely purgatory called school, the two of them set their sights on discovering what exactly had happened that night at the fountain.
They searched the fountain itself first, ordering the maids to reconstruct what they saw and did to best of their ability. The black bands were retrieved from inside the house and given to Harold and Helena for examination. Helena turned them over in her hands, passing one of the two sets over to her husband for inspection. He eyed them carefully, pulling at their ends and frowning.
"Elastic of some kind. Not quite rubber, but very close. Difficult to cut through, these ends are very uneven." he commented gruffly.
"They are rather wide and soft, to avoid doing too much harm. These were meant to bind and hold, not bind and crush." Helena added softly, placing her set with her husband and walking to the fountain, eyeing it carefully before turning to the maids, "Did Sir Luke have any injuries to his legs?" A few of them blushed profusely and one stepped forward, stammering her answer.
"Y-yes, Madam. There was a bruise on his right shin that we noticed when changing his clothing. We've bandaged it as well as his arms. There was also a small scrape on his cheek that we also bandaged." she reported and stepped back. Helena frowned slightly and looked back at her husband.
"Most probably came from his struggling against the chloroform being pressed to his nose and mouth." he concluded, pushing his glasses up his nose. Helena turned around and stood by the fountain, a pensive expression on her face.
"He bruised his right shin, so he was standing like this when he fell in." she murmured and began walking forward, "Luke is a rather alert and wary young man. If he heard anything suspicious, he would turn in the direction of the sound. If he faced this way before falling, then the origin of his suspicions must lie in this direction." The maids and her husband followed her, carefully looking around until one of the maids squealed, pointing at something in the grass. Harold and Helena rushed to her and looked at where she pointed.
A pile of strange metal pieces lay broken among the grass, near a pair of footprints far too large to belong to anyone in the Layton estate. Harold knelt and pulled out a handkerchief, moving the metal around until he got a semblance of what it used to be. Some sort of rifle, but of a fantastic design.
"Someone was pointing this at my son." he growled dangerously, standing up as Helena put her finger to her chin again.
"No, dear. They were shooting at Luke. Luke and Hershel were outside, Hershel spotted the stranger and Luke sent him inside the house for safety. Once Hershel had left, Luke was attacked and nearly kidnapped." the woman deduced and her eyes glittered again, "To this intruder, Luke was far more valuable to obtain than our little boy."
"But, why? Hershel is a Layton; our wealth and prestige makes us among some of the most famous in the city, if not the country!" Harold protested, waving a hand wildly in irritation, "What about that teacher makes him a fairer prize than a Layton?!" Helena laughed cheerily behind her hand.
"Therein lies the puzzle, dearest!" she teased and began walking back to the house, "Let's see if our dear Sir Luke is well enough to shine a little light on this for you."
--
"I don't remember anything." Luke stated flatly, looking out the window with a scowl rather than facing the two Laytons, arms folded over his chest as he sat in bed, "I didn't see anything either. I heard some noises, I felt myself getting tangled in something, then I fell in the fountain. Someone tried to pull me out, but the streetlights were behind them, so I couldn't see. Then I felt light-headed and passed out. I don't know anything else, and if I did anything else, I don't remember." Harold and Helena glanced at each other from their chairs, then looked back at him with more scrutiny.
"What of the lights from the manor? Surely they would have cast illumination on the face of your attacker." Harold remarked dubiously. Luke seemed to tighten his expression before resuming the uncaring look.
"The fountain basins were blocking the light behind me, so nothing could get through to do so." he muttered and sighed harshly, "Look, I appreciate you wanting to know who did this to exact some justice, but it doesn't matter to me. All I wish to know is if Hershel is safe. That's all I care about now."
"He is perfectly fine. He is in school right now, safe and sound." Helena returned, a strange smile on her face, "But he's developed an irrational fear of the fountain outside now. Absolutely won't go near it without screaming his lungs loose." Luke closed his eyes in a pained expression.
"Bloody hell, so that explains...." he whispered and cut himself off, running his hands through his hair, "I am deeply sorry for that, Lady Layton, Sir Layton. If there's anything I can do to make amends for causing that...."
"Tell us what you really saw, then, boy." Harold growled, "You're keeping a secret and my wife knows it. She's giving you the chance to clear yourself." Luke only sat there, mouth closed in a thin line as he glared back at the older man.
"He smelled of smoke, and something acrid. I remember that scent from when I was a child." he finally muttered, "And the rest is best left unsaid, for your own sakes as well as mine." He lifted a hand to his temple, grimacing slightly. "Please, may I be left alone for now? I feel horrid and some rest would probably be helpful." he added weakly. The Laytons stood and left the room in silence. Helena paused at the doorway, then looked back at the young man in bed.
"Sir Luke, I do not know the details of your past, nor can I clearly understand them." she admitted softly, "But I do know that for reasons beyond our knowledge, you are here for a purpose, and at the same time, not. Why else would you alternate between keeping my son at your side and pushing him away from yourself?" With that, she left the room, Luke staring after her with startled eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Professor walked around the pantries in the kitchen, then peered into the cooler, taking notes on what needed to be bought to replenish their food stores. Luke sat at the table, watching him with the same adoration he always felt for his mentor. He made even the slightest tasks seem so refined and Luke always felt blessed that he was the great man's apprentice and assistant. After a few minutes, the gentleman stood still, looking out a window with a slight frown before turning to him cheerfully.
"Luke, my boy, why don't you and Flora do the shopping today? I have some matters to attend to in the office. Once I've cleared them up, I'll come join you at the market." he suggested and Luke's smile dropped away in disappointment.
"But, Professor, we always go shopping together! Can't those matters wait until after we get back? Please?" he whined and the older man only smiled wider and shook his head.
"Now, Luke, this would be a good lesson on maintaining your behavior without my constant presence. Are you able to correct yourself without needing me?" he remarked and winked at him, "I have every confidence you can, Luke." He handed the list to him and a wallet. "Run along now, you and Flora both. I shouldn't be more than an hour behind you, all right?" Luke sighed dejectedly as he accepted the list and money.
"If you say so, Professor." he murmured and headed out of the kitchen. He stopped for a second, out of a strange impulse, and looked back at his mentor, confused as to why he still stood in the kitchen, eyes straying towards the window even as he pushed the chair Luke had abandoned back under the table. Shrugging it off as one of the Professor's little quirks, he resumed his own little quest. "Flora! The Professor wants us to go shopping without him today!" he called out and the girl rushed downstairs with her jacket on, a puzzled look on her face.
"But why? We always do the grocery shopping together." she questioned and Luke shrugged.
"He said he had some things to do and will catch up to us later." he replied and grinned, holding up the list and wallet, "Let's get started! If we hurry with the groceries, we can meet him halfway and then go to the park and feed the fish! Maybe even get another picture!" Flora laughed joyfully as she walked with him out of the house.
"What a wonderful idea, Luke! But you know he won't go near the fountain. He always tells us to be very careful around it." she reminded him and the boy sighed, rolling his eyes even as he smiled at the memory of the Professor's vocal objections to going near the park's fountain the first time he saw it.
"It's not even that deep. Why on earth is he so scared of it?" he remarked, then laughed as he answered his own question, "Oh! Maybe he's afraid that the fish will jump and splash him with water!" They laughed over such a silly idea as they went on their way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Noooo!" Luke screamed out, thrashing in bed until he was upright and reaching out blindly, trying desperately to pull them back, to drag his younger self and Flora back into the house where they could at least hold the attention of whomever it was that had killed the Professor that day. And then the dream faded and true vision sank in and Luke could only hug himself and sob bitterly over his knowledge. What had happened to him here had already affected the future for this time; Professor Layton disliked fountains greatly and he had never known why until now. His fault, it was all his fault. He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes as he dug the fingers of one hand into his hair to hold his head and quell the throbbing. "Just hang on, Professor. Hang in there, Luke. All you need to do is prevent that murder, and wait for the thirteenth hour." he whispered, "Everything will sort itself out on the thirteenth hour."