Final Chapter
...
E-excuse me...
...w-while I just... y-yeah...
...Oh, boy...
It took a while for the constables to reach St Mystere. Six pm on a Sunday wasn’t quite ideal for anybody, but it was necessary in order for both Don Paolo to be taken away, and for Layton, Luke and Flora to return home. The Reinhold heir was uneasy about leaving St Mystere as it was, but Bruno, who had secretly resurfaced after the events, insisted their leave.
”It’ll be alright, Miss. I can handle it from here. Besides, I don’t think we want any more intrusions around here… you’ll be brief with the authorities, won’t you?”
Luke had often wondered about how attached the man was to his creations. Nonetheless, the three kept their word and hardly said a thing about the peculiar secrets behind St Mystere. They never even specified the events that had taken place earlier that day - not only would they have sounded rather outlandish, but the thought of the Great Professor Layton suddenly turning insane would have also caused an uproar…
Nonetheless, when they finally arrived home, all three of them were altogether exhausted.
Flora had gone straight to bed, the day’s past events having taken its toll on her. Though she had handled herself rather well, right now, she wanted nothing more than to sleep in late the next day.
Layton had already retreated to his study, determined to change into clothes that would actually fit him for the first time, today.
Luke, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep a wink.
He simply lay there, silent, in the dark. Though he was relieved the day’s events were said and done, and that things had turned out far better from what they could have potentially been, his young mind simply refused to shut off.
So, after about fifteen minutes of burying his head into his pillow (and having some difficulty breathing) he decided to grab a glass of water from the downstairs kitchen. His chest suddenly suffered from a small rush of adrenalin as he rose, and it was only then when he realized how absolutely shaken he still was…
Donning his blue robe, he wandered down the staircase, rubbing one eye sleepily, another hand clutching the railing. He wondered if he could, if anything, sleep at all for the next week after what had happened.
He was startled out of his thoughts when he noted a soft, flickering, amber glow emitting from the living room. Luke suddenly grew extremely still, his hand grasping the rail as tightly as he possibly could. A flurry of paranoia overcame him…
… before he caught sight of a figure sitting upon the lounge room’s couch.
Managing to relax, he slowly walked over into the calming light, without a word. He wandered around the couch to its front, where his mentor sat, dressed in his regular attire (though devoid of his top-hat) slouched forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers linked together, silent and staring into space.
The last and only time he’d ever seen Professor Layton appear so distant had been earlier in the day… and at that time, he’d been in the form of a child. That same solemn look was still present - it hadn’t changed a bit.
“Professor…?”
His mentor blinked in surprise, turning to face his apprentice, the expression fading almost abruptly.
“ Luke…?”
Layton shook his head, rubbing one eye with his finger.
“What are you doing up? It’s awfully late…”
The boy gave a weak smile. “Er… I couldn’t sleep, Professor…” He said, setting himself down on the couch beside him. His gaze was drawn to the coffee table, and fixed there, unable to look back at his mentor. Layton stared at his apprentice for a few brief moments, before resuming his original position on the couch.
“Quite a day, wasn’t it?” He offered, quietly.
“Indeed it was, Professor.” Luke replied, with equal softness.
There was a silence.
“Um… Professor?”
“Mm?”
Luke glanced back over at Layton.
“If you don’t mind… there are still a few things that I’m not so clear about. I mean… with what happened today…” He added, as the Professor glanced over at him, seemingly more awake than before.
“Just… I was kind of wondering… how you managed to change back? What exactly happened?”
Layton’s expression suddenly grew thoughtful, as if pondering what exactly to say. Then, he finally allowed himself to lean back into the couch, his hands resting upon his lap. His eyes were directed towards the ceiling, and narrowed in concentration.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’m not quite certain exactly how it all happened, nor how the substance itself worked.” He admitted. “I’m an archaeologist, not a scientist…”
He glanced back over at Luke, who was listening attentively.
“…but I will try to explain it as best I can.”
His gaze drifted back to the coffee table, upon which one single lamp burned.
“Just about midnight last night… Don Paolo broke into my office.” Layton began. “He managed to hit me on the back of my head, and I was stunned - he used that opportunity to pour that ghastly liquid down my throat…”
Without moving his head, his eyes flickered to Luke.
“You saw it yourself, this evening. That vial that he almost managed to get into you.”
His apprentice swallowed dryly, but nodded.
“I remember losing consciousness…” He continued on, closing his eyes in recollection. “And then… when I woke up…”
Layton sighed deeply. “I… could not recall where I was… who either you or Flora were… not even my own name. All I really knew was that something was very wrong, indeed… I just didn’t know what.”
At this point, Luke’s eyes had widened in horror.
“You… lost your memory?”
“I did.” The professor said. “And that leads me to my first theory - what Don Paolo’s intention was… once he’d given me that concoction of his, he said something rather peculiar…”
888
“Evening Professor. Say farewell to that brilliant mind of yours.”
888
“I believe he planned to turn me into a child, in body and in mind.” Layton continued. “He’d definitely found a way to do so in body - but I believe he hit an obstacle in the ‘mind’ part of it all. All that liquid did was induce amnesia.” He tapped his chin, thoughtfully. “He perhaps believed that if I was lacking in my memories about being an adult, my mentality would shift into that of a child… but that was not the case.”
He glanced back over at Luke.
“Whilst I had no memories, my very mentality and common sense was not affected… therefore, I wasn’t quite myself, but I wasn’t acting like a child, either…”
The apprentice pondered hard.
“So… that time…”
888
“It doesn’t matter whether you’ve retained your intellect, or not, Layton.” The scientist hissed. “What are you to those children if you can’t even protect them…”
He pulled the child back before his features, his pleasure deepening at seeing his sworn nemesis’ fierce façade deteriorating into that of unsettled helplessness.
“…fearless ‘Professor?’”
888
“…his plan was already flawed… and he knew it. You got your memories back almost a few hours later, didn’t you?” Luke asked.
“Right after I’d collapsed again in my room, yes.” Layton nodded, approvingly. “I’m not quite certain of this next part, but…”
He suddenly looked distant.
“… I believe my body began to reject the substance. Don Paolo had never tested it on a human being before, he said so himself. But in any case, after a while, I’d begun coughing up the stuff…”
Luke’s eyes widened.
“Does that mean… was it in your lungs, Professor?!”
“I highly doubt that, my boy.” Layton raised an eyebrow. “If that were the case, I would have very much been killed…”
“Then… how?”
“As I said before, I am no scientist.” The professor said, rather sheepishly. “Whenever I try to reason within that subject, it all sounds rather fictional.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I can identify, Professor.” Luke said, quickly.
“In the end, I managed to cough up as much as I could… at the very least, enough to allow me to change back.” He sighed. “Don Paolo wasn’t quite expecting that either, it appears. The substance was too weak to be permanent…”
There was a small silence.
“I don’t think I could have stood that one bit, Professor…”
Layton turned to face his apprentice, though his gaze had gone astray - focusing hard on the emptiness before him.
“You being small, I mean…” He added, his tone solemn. “I mean… at the very least, I knew you were there. I knew that you were still around, but…”
The boy leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands.
“… well… I wasn’t… I mean… you were… you were no match for him, Professor.” Luke whispered, a slight tremor to his voice. “… he could just… pick you up, as if there was nothing to it… a-and…”
He buried his face into his hands, taking in a deep, shuddering gasp.
“…I… I-I hated it… you could’ve… you could’ve been killed, Professor… and I was really… I-I was really scared! I thought… I thought, just a few h-hours ago… that you were dead… a-and it took… it took everything in me… t-to… to just… not… cry… I-I…”
His hands balled into fists, then back into palms, which supported his bowing forehead. Luke watched as several dots appeared upon the carpet, where his tears had landed.
“…I thought… I-I thought you were gone. For good, P-Professor!!”
There was a long and heavy silence, save for the boy’s sniffling. He constantly attempted to wipe them away, however… though it had been a rough day, he’d kept his discipline in mind… and crying certainly wasn’t something he could continue doing - he’d done it already, several times today. He needed to be strong…
Yet when he realized that his mentor had not yet responded, he hurriedly managed to wipe away a few of his remaining tears, taking in another deep breath.
His eyes landed upon Layton in mid-wipe, and he froze.
Slowly, he lowered his arm to the side.
The professor was staring, once more, at the burning lamp, wordlessly. Yet there was something out of place, upon his mentor’s seemingly emotionless features.
Luke’s eyes narrowed.
Was that…?
Yes. Yes, it was. It was faint, but it was definitely there - highlighted by the nearby lamp. A single tear had traveled down the man’s distant features. Though no others followed, one said quite enough about his mentor’s state.
“Luke…”
A small tremor had appeared within his tone, but faded, as soon as he turned to face his apprentice. That rare, solemn, distant look had finally reappeared upon his features… and despite that distress… despite that rare tear, Luke found himself relaxing.
“… did it perhaps occur to you that I, too, was afraid?” He asked, softly.
“I wasn’t afraid to die, Luke. That was the least of my worries… but… the idea that I could no longer defend you and Flora…”
He closed his eyes.
“…that was… unbearable… It was the very last thing I thought about before I lost consciousness after having taken the serum. I was concerned for your safety… should anything have happened to me, the two of you would have been on your own…”
Luke stared at his mentor, wordlessly.
For a few moments, he did not see a professor. He did not see a composed gentleman, nor a sharp detective - not even a mentor. Instead, he saw an exhausted man. He saw a man who had worried all day for his apprentice’s and Flora’s safety.
Luke gave a small, tired smile.
He saw a father.
It was as brief and as faint as the tear on his face…
… but it was most definitely there.
“I’m just glad you’re here now, Professor.” He said, quietly as Layton reopened his eyes. “The way you’re supposed to be, I mean…”
He blinked, then suddenly gave a yawn.
“I’m sorry.” Luke shook his head, abruptly, though Layton, suddenly smiling warmly, gave a small chuckle.
“It’s alright, my boy.” He glanced over at the grandfather clock, situated at the end of the room. His eyes narrowed in order to read it in the dim light, then widened as he realized that it was already twenty-past one in the morning.
“You should perhaps be off to bed, Luke. It’s very late… and it’s a Monday, tomorrow…” He added, with a resigned sigh.
It had not been a very restful Sunday at all…
The boy glanced over at him, rubbing an eye, sleepily.
“Mm… Alright…” He said, rising unsteadily from the couch. He wandered, somewhat aimlessly around the end of the couch, and back towards the staircase.
He stopped, and looked over his shoulder, aware that his mentor was still watching him.
“Good night, Professor.”
“Good night, Luke. Sleep well.”
With that, Layton turned away from his apprentice, and leant back into the couch. Somehow, he was still wary of the idea of going back up the stairs and into his study… it was a childish kind of paranoia, but after what had happened last night at this particular time…
He was exhausted, nonetheless. The strains that his body had gone through throughout the day had definitely taken their toll - and it would probably be wise to see a doctor for a checkup, in any case…
Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to rise, and go to bed. Something had fixed him in that particular place on the couch. Not even the few puzzles that sat upon the coffee table seemed to draw him in at this time. He raised his hand, and rubbed at his temple, eyes shut tight.
His mind was so exhausted, that it was an absolute mess.
Suddenly, he felt something heavy lean upon his right arm. Giving a small jolt in alarm, Layton was startled to realize that Luke had returned. He now sat with his back up against the professor’s left arm, partially propping his body up against it. He shifted slightly as if becoming comfortable, then ceased his movement, altogether.
Layton stared, blankly, through his tired eyes. Leaning over slightly, he realized that his apprentice had fallen fast asleep.
He did not speak - nor did he choose to carry his apprentice back into his room.
Instead, he gave a small smile, before leaning back into the couch, once more, before closing his eyes almost instantly.
888
He didn’t mind Luke’s company at all. Moreso, he was relieved.
He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, today. Nor did he know how.
He let forth a small sigh, as he finally drifted off into unconsciousness.
Even if he was still a little bit frightened… it didn’t quite matter, anymore.
The fact that the day’s events were over… and that everyone was safe…
That was more than enough.
The professor and his apprentice slept heavily for the rest of the night.
E-excuse me...
...w-while I just... y-yeah...
...Oh, boy...
It took a while for the constables to reach St Mystere. Six pm on a Sunday wasn’t quite ideal for anybody, but it was necessary in order for both Don Paolo to be taken away, and for Layton, Luke and Flora to return home. The Reinhold heir was uneasy about leaving St Mystere as it was, but Bruno, who had secretly resurfaced after the events, insisted their leave.
”It’ll be alright, Miss. I can handle it from here. Besides, I don’t think we want any more intrusions around here… you’ll be brief with the authorities, won’t you?”
Luke had often wondered about how attached the man was to his creations. Nonetheless, the three kept their word and hardly said a thing about the peculiar secrets behind St Mystere. They never even specified the events that had taken place earlier that day - not only would they have sounded rather outlandish, but the thought of the Great Professor Layton suddenly turning insane would have also caused an uproar…
Nonetheless, when they finally arrived home, all three of them were altogether exhausted.
Flora had gone straight to bed, the day’s past events having taken its toll on her. Though she had handled herself rather well, right now, she wanted nothing more than to sleep in late the next day.
Layton had already retreated to his study, determined to change into clothes that would actually fit him for the first time, today.
Luke, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep a wink.
He simply lay there, silent, in the dark. Though he was relieved the day’s events were said and done, and that things had turned out far better from what they could have potentially been, his young mind simply refused to shut off.
So, after about fifteen minutes of burying his head into his pillow (and having some difficulty breathing) he decided to grab a glass of water from the downstairs kitchen. His chest suddenly suffered from a small rush of adrenalin as he rose, and it was only then when he realized how absolutely shaken he still was…
Donning his blue robe, he wandered down the staircase, rubbing one eye sleepily, another hand clutching the railing. He wondered if he could, if anything, sleep at all for the next week after what had happened.
He was startled out of his thoughts when he noted a soft, flickering, amber glow emitting from the living room. Luke suddenly grew extremely still, his hand grasping the rail as tightly as he possibly could. A flurry of paranoia overcame him…
… before he caught sight of a figure sitting upon the lounge room’s couch.
Managing to relax, he slowly walked over into the calming light, without a word. He wandered around the couch to its front, where his mentor sat, dressed in his regular attire (though devoid of his top-hat) slouched forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers linked together, silent and staring into space.
The last and only time he’d ever seen Professor Layton appear so distant had been earlier in the day… and at that time, he’d been in the form of a child. That same solemn look was still present - it hadn’t changed a bit.
“Professor…?”
His mentor blinked in surprise, turning to face his apprentice, the expression fading almost abruptly.
“ Luke…?”
Layton shook his head, rubbing one eye with his finger.
“What are you doing up? It’s awfully late…”
The boy gave a weak smile. “Er… I couldn’t sleep, Professor…” He said, setting himself down on the couch beside him. His gaze was drawn to the coffee table, and fixed there, unable to look back at his mentor. Layton stared at his apprentice for a few brief moments, before resuming his original position on the couch.
“Quite a day, wasn’t it?” He offered, quietly.
“Indeed it was, Professor.” Luke replied, with equal softness.
There was a silence.
“Um… Professor?”
“Mm?”
Luke glanced back over at Layton.
“If you don’t mind… there are still a few things that I’m not so clear about. I mean… with what happened today…” He added, as the Professor glanced over at him, seemingly more awake than before.
“Just… I was kind of wondering… how you managed to change back? What exactly happened?”
Layton’s expression suddenly grew thoughtful, as if pondering what exactly to say. Then, he finally allowed himself to lean back into the couch, his hands resting upon his lap. His eyes were directed towards the ceiling, and narrowed in concentration.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’m not quite certain exactly how it all happened, nor how the substance itself worked.” He admitted. “I’m an archaeologist, not a scientist…”
He glanced back over at Luke, who was listening attentively.
“…but I will try to explain it as best I can.”
His gaze drifted back to the coffee table, upon which one single lamp burned.
“Just about midnight last night… Don Paolo broke into my office.” Layton began. “He managed to hit me on the back of my head, and I was stunned - he used that opportunity to pour that ghastly liquid down my throat…”
Without moving his head, his eyes flickered to Luke.
“You saw it yourself, this evening. That vial that he almost managed to get into you.”
His apprentice swallowed dryly, but nodded.
“I remember losing consciousness…” He continued on, closing his eyes in recollection. “And then… when I woke up…”
Layton sighed deeply. “I… could not recall where I was… who either you or Flora were… not even my own name. All I really knew was that something was very wrong, indeed… I just didn’t know what.”
At this point, Luke’s eyes had widened in horror.
“You… lost your memory?”
“I did.” The professor said. “And that leads me to my first theory - what Don Paolo’s intention was… once he’d given me that concoction of his, he said something rather peculiar…”
888
“Evening Professor. Say farewell to that brilliant mind of yours.”
888
“I believe he planned to turn me into a child, in body and in mind.” Layton continued. “He’d definitely found a way to do so in body - but I believe he hit an obstacle in the ‘mind’ part of it all. All that liquid did was induce amnesia.” He tapped his chin, thoughtfully. “He perhaps believed that if I was lacking in my memories about being an adult, my mentality would shift into that of a child… but that was not the case.”
He glanced back over at Luke.
“Whilst I had no memories, my very mentality and common sense was not affected… therefore, I wasn’t quite myself, but I wasn’t acting like a child, either…”
The apprentice pondered hard.
“So… that time…”
888
“It doesn’t matter whether you’ve retained your intellect, or not, Layton.” The scientist hissed. “What are you to those children if you can’t even protect them…”
He pulled the child back before his features, his pleasure deepening at seeing his sworn nemesis’ fierce façade deteriorating into that of unsettled helplessness.
“…fearless ‘Professor?’”
888
“…his plan was already flawed… and he knew it. You got your memories back almost a few hours later, didn’t you?” Luke asked.
“Right after I’d collapsed again in my room, yes.” Layton nodded, approvingly. “I’m not quite certain of this next part, but…”
He suddenly looked distant.
“… I believe my body began to reject the substance. Don Paolo had never tested it on a human being before, he said so himself. But in any case, after a while, I’d begun coughing up the stuff…”
Luke’s eyes widened.
“Does that mean… was it in your lungs, Professor?!”
“I highly doubt that, my boy.” Layton raised an eyebrow. “If that were the case, I would have very much been killed…”
“Then… how?”
“As I said before, I am no scientist.” The professor said, rather sheepishly. “Whenever I try to reason within that subject, it all sounds rather fictional.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I can identify, Professor.” Luke said, quickly.
“In the end, I managed to cough up as much as I could… at the very least, enough to allow me to change back.” He sighed. “Don Paolo wasn’t quite expecting that either, it appears. The substance was too weak to be permanent…”
There was a small silence.
“I don’t think I could have stood that one bit, Professor…”
Layton turned to face his apprentice, though his gaze had gone astray - focusing hard on the emptiness before him.
“You being small, I mean…” He added, his tone solemn. “I mean… at the very least, I knew you were there. I knew that you were still around, but…”
The boy leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands.
“… well… I wasn’t… I mean… you were… you were no match for him, Professor.” Luke whispered, a slight tremor to his voice. “… he could just… pick you up, as if there was nothing to it… a-and…”
He buried his face into his hands, taking in a deep, shuddering gasp.
“…I… I-I hated it… you could’ve… you could’ve been killed, Professor… and I was really… I-I was really scared! I thought… I thought, just a few h-hours ago… that you were dead… a-and it took… it took everything in me… t-to… to just… not… cry… I-I…”
His hands balled into fists, then back into palms, which supported his bowing forehead. Luke watched as several dots appeared upon the carpet, where his tears had landed.
“…I thought… I-I thought you were gone. For good, P-Professor!!”
There was a long and heavy silence, save for the boy’s sniffling. He constantly attempted to wipe them away, however… though it had been a rough day, he’d kept his discipline in mind… and crying certainly wasn’t something he could continue doing - he’d done it already, several times today. He needed to be strong…
Yet when he realized that his mentor had not yet responded, he hurriedly managed to wipe away a few of his remaining tears, taking in another deep breath.
His eyes landed upon Layton in mid-wipe, and he froze.
Slowly, he lowered his arm to the side.
The professor was staring, once more, at the burning lamp, wordlessly. Yet there was something out of place, upon his mentor’s seemingly emotionless features.
Luke’s eyes narrowed.
Was that…?
Yes. Yes, it was. It was faint, but it was definitely there - highlighted by the nearby lamp. A single tear had traveled down the man’s distant features. Though no others followed, one said quite enough about his mentor’s state.
“Luke…”
A small tremor had appeared within his tone, but faded, as soon as he turned to face his apprentice. That rare, solemn, distant look had finally reappeared upon his features… and despite that distress… despite that rare tear, Luke found himself relaxing.
“… did it perhaps occur to you that I, too, was afraid?” He asked, softly.
“I wasn’t afraid to die, Luke. That was the least of my worries… but… the idea that I could no longer defend you and Flora…”
He closed his eyes.
“…that was… unbearable… It was the very last thing I thought about before I lost consciousness after having taken the serum. I was concerned for your safety… should anything have happened to me, the two of you would have been on your own…”
Luke stared at his mentor, wordlessly.
For a few moments, he did not see a professor. He did not see a composed gentleman, nor a sharp detective - not even a mentor. Instead, he saw an exhausted man. He saw a man who had worried all day for his apprentice’s and Flora’s safety.
Luke gave a small, tired smile.
He saw a father.
It was as brief and as faint as the tear on his face…
… but it was most definitely there.
“I’m just glad you’re here now, Professor.” He said, quietly as Layton reopened his eyes. “The way you’re supposed to be, I mean…”
He blinked, then suddenly gave a yawn.
“I’m sorry.” Luke shook his head, abruptly, though Layton, suddenly smiling warmly, gave a small chuckle.
“It’s alright, my boy.” He glanced over at the grandfather clock, situated at the end of the room. His eyes narrowed in order to read it in the dim light, then widened as he realized that it was already twenty-past one in the morning.
“You should perhaps be off to bed, Luke. It’s very late… and it’s a Monday, tomorrow…” He added, with a resigned sigh.
It had not been a very restful Sunday at all…
The boy glanced over at him, rubbing an eye, sleepily.
“Mm… Alright…” He said, rising unsteadily from the couch. He wandered, somewhat aimlessly around the end of the couch, and back towards the staircase.
He stopped, and looked over his shoulder, aware that his mentor was still watching him.
“Good night, Professor.”
“Good night, Luke. Sleep well.”
With that, Layton turned away from his apprentice, and leant back into the couch. Somehow, he was still wary of the idea of going back up the stairs and into his study… it was a childish kind of paranoia, but after what had happened last night at this particular time…
He was exhausted, nonetheless. The strains that his body had gone through throughout the day had definitely taken their toll - and it would probably be wise to see a doctor for a checkup, in any case…
Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to rise, and go to bed. Something had fixed him in that particular place on the couch. Not even the few puzzles that sat upon the coffee table seemed to draw him in at this time. He raised his hand, and rubbed at his temple, eyes shut tight.
His mind was so exhausted, that it was an absolute mess.
Suddenly, he felt something heavy lean upon his right arm. Giving a small jolt in alarm, Layton was startled to realize that Luke had returned. He now sat with his back up against the professor’s left arm, partially propping his body up against it. He shifted slightly as if becoming comfortable, then ceased his movement, altogether.
Layton stared, blankly, through his tired eyes. Leaning over slightly, he realized that his apprentice had fallen fast asleep.
He did not speak - nor did he choose to carry his apprentice back into his room.
Instead, he gave a small smile, before leaning back into the couch, once more, before closing his eyes almost instantly.
888
He didn’t mind Luke’s company at all. Moreso, he was relieved.
He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, today. Nor did he know how.
He let forth a small sigh, as he finally drifted off into unconsciousness.
Even if he was still a little bit frightened… it didn’t quite matter, anymore.
The fact that the day’s events were over… and that everyone was safe…
That was more than enough.
The professor and his apprentice slept heavily for the rest of the night.