A/N: I started this story about two (two and a half?) years ago, and then sort of abandoned it. I intended to continue with what I had originally published, but then I went back and read through and I wasn't happy with the length or quality of any of the chapters. So instead of continuing, I decided to start from the bginning and rewrite the first few chapters with more detail and a better pace, and go from there. This was inspired by a story called "Fragile" by xCastielsGirlx, which was one of the first stories I read in the PL fandom and one I highly recommend.

I understand the Layton fandom has changed since I first published this story, and that is completely fine. I really want to continue this story because now I have a better idea of where I want it to go. And besides, maybe some new readers will enjoy this just as much as the old ones.

That's about it. To whoever reads,

Enjoy.

Through a dense fog that seems to have magically formed and clogged my ears, I hear two sirens: police, and ambulance. I let out a low groan, wincing at the pain that has begun to consume my whole body. Through the fog, I hear a familiar voice continuously calling out: "LUKE!" Everything is happening so fast, yet, it seems too slow to believe. Nothing is making sense in my head, all the noises are blending together to create one horrible screech. I'm just a ball of confusion, unable to move or think. Whatever had gone wrong…?

I slowly pull the keys out of my pocket, pressing the cold metal in between my fingers and palm. Next to me stands a boy dressed in a crisp homemade racing suit, and radiating an air that says: 'I'm rich and bored so I might as well participate in an illegal sport'. It takes me a second to remember that his name is Joshua, he's the leader of this organization, and if we're to get caught tonight his father's money will be there to bail us out. I also think that his racing suit, while very well made, is gaudy and makes him look like a bright, red-clad attention-seeking git.

This I keep to myself, obviously.

As these thoughts are being filed away, Josh clears his throat and asks, "So you're really in this time, Luke? Because if you're not, I'm afraid I've given you one too many chances."

He's referring to my past attempts to drive in a race. There had definitely been a few, each ending up in me either chickening out as soon as I arrived at the start line, or not showing up at all. I had gotten real hell for those times, but Josh had given me second, third and fourth chances. Each of these chances had always been "the last". I had no idea why he let me keep coming back. Maybe I amused him, but I couldn't tell how.

"No, this time, I'm in for real." I assure him, and to emphasize my commitment, I make my way over to the car Josh and his posse have lent to me for the night: it's a very sleek and stylish red with flashy silver rims and the letters 'SB' stamped in fancy letters on the hood. The emblem stands for Street Brawlers, Josh's cliché name for his racing group. I touch the cold metal of the car's door handle, and take a deep breath. This is it. If I back out now, I know I won't be coming back. Just as I'm about to get into the driver's seat, a voice calls out to me: "LUKE! No, what in the world are you doing?"

I turn to see Flora. She's running towards me, hair flailing around her, dressed only in an orange tank-top and faded blue jean despite the chilly night air. "Flora…why'd you follow me? I told you to stay home." I know this is a foolish question, but I can't help but wonder why Flora seems to have a need to track down people when she gets bored of being home alone.

She reaches me and I'm startled to see tears in her eyes. She's out of breath and shivering as she yells. "You…you l-lied to me! That's all you've done the p-past month, lie right…right to m-my face! You t-told me…you were going out to get groceries…do you see a g-grocery store…out here? HUH? W-what are…you even doing here, Luke?" she's fully sobbing now, and it pains me to see her like this.

I carefully reach out to brush a strand of hair out of her face, but she slaps it away in disgust. "Flora, it's just…" I search for a better word than street racing, "It's just…a game."

"You actually think I'm that stupid?" her stare could melt an iceberg, "I know what you're doing. Street racing is dangerous, Luke. You could be seriously injured or…or…or…" She can't even bring herself to say the last word. Exhaling frustration, she venomously states, "Frankly I don't know why I care so much, especially if you've decided to start hanging around with this lazy rich-boy scum."

This prompts a few grunts of protests and angry glances from the Street Brawler members who are within hearing range. Josh who seems to have appeared next to us out of nowhere doesn't seem to mind however, and casually announces, "Luke, we're going to get started now."

I nod, "Yea, one sec." He shrugs and walks to his car. I turn to Flora, "Look, it's going to be fine." I try to put on a small smile, and take off my jacket to drape around her shoulders. Again, she slaps my hands away and gives a shallow laugh.

"You can't predict the future, Luke. Have you honestly been doing this for the past month?" My silence answers her question. "Why did you even start? Did you ever once stop to think about me or…or the Professor?"

The last part stings me, and I shake my head. "I care about you Flora, but Professor Layton…I don't know him anymore. He's become a stranger to me." I turn away, and open my car door.

Before I step inside, I hear Flora's voice. It's small and full of disappointment: "You've become a stranger to me."

I'm moving fast, which means I'm probably in the ambulance. But for all I know, I could be in the police car, being brought to the Scotland Yard for questioning. This makes me think of inspector Chelmy. I smile, or at least feel my mouth twitch. I would absolutely love to hear what he has to say about this: "GOOD BLAZES, boy! Have you completely lost your mind? Of all the shenanigans you could've gotten yourself into, you choose a criminal act?!"

Sorry to disappoint, sir, I think sarcastically, imagining his face turning an extraordinary plum color. There's pain coursing through every member of my body, but it is extremely severe in my head, abdomen and right leg. The crash had been pretty harsh, and the sound of crunching metal seemed to be playing like a broken record in my head.

The keys slide smoothly into the ignition, and as soon as I give them a twist, the engine springs to life, rumbling and eager to be tested to the limit as I speed down the sleeping streets of London. I hear the engines of other cars being awakened too, creating an almost haunting drone. A slender boy dressed in khaki shorts and a blue shirt decorated with the 'SB' logo steps out in front of the cars. All eyes are on him as he raises a megaphone to his lips, "WELCOME EVERYONE!" his voice echoes, "WELCOME TO OUR WEEKLY RACE! I HOPE YOU ALL ARE ANXIOUS TO MAKE THIS ONE EVEN BETTER THAN THE LAST!"

I'm actually surprised at how obvious these boys are making this event. Sure we aren't next to any apartment buildings where people may be sleeping, but they weren't exactly trying to keep their law breaking games under wraps. Nevertheless I place my hands on the wheel, gripping it so hard I can feel my pulse vibrating in my palms.

"OKAY EVERYONE, NO BACKING OUT NOW! ON YOUR MARKS, GET SET…"

He walks to the sidelines to avoid being run over by the cars after he gives us the cue. Everything in my field of vision is becoming blurry, but whether this is due to anticipation or nerves I can't say. The boy's voice, now sounding as though it's thousands of miles away, calls out one last time,

"GOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Without thinking I stomp on the peddle and am pushed back against my seat from the sudden jolt of acceleration. Easing up a bit I sit up straight and push down so I'm going fast enough to speed through the streets, but not enough to throw me back again. Adrenaline courses through my body as I see the first few racers ahead. A small smirk creeps onto my face as I spot that the black car directly in front of me has left his left side wide open, the perfect opportunity for me to slip by and pass him. 'It's all kind of like a puzzle, really' I think. You have to determine how fast to go, how far ahead of your opponents you can get in a certain amount of time, etcetera. At least the Professor had taught me one useful thing before he slipped into his depression.

I put a little more weight on the peddle and am carried forward until I am right next to the blue car. It's driver gives me a surprised and positively evil look as I give him a wink and speed in front, making sure to leave little room on my sides to prevent him from passing me. Despite not having a driver's license (a fact the Street Brawlers didn't know), I felt like I was doing a pretty good job.

Who knew I'd have a knack for this sport?

I feel a hand touching my face. It's not a slap so much as a very firm pat, something that whoever is around me is probably using to get me to wake up.

Well, it's working.

"Hey, kid? Kid, if you can hear my voice, it'd be great if you could blink or make a sound."

My mouth is as dry as the Sahara, and my tongue doesn't even feel like it's connected to my mouth. I try to remember how to make my lips part so some sort of noise can escape, but try as I might I can't seem to master this simple task. I take all the energy I have left, and manage to open my eyes. As soon as I do this, I'm blinded by the dim lighting in the ambulance.

The medic standing over me gives me a grin, "Alright, kid. Welcome back."

'Welcome back'. Had I gone anywhere? I wish I could ask the medic this, but he's already turned his attention to the other man in the car.

"''Kay, James, this one's responding. How many does that make?"

"Well there were fifteen kids total. Nine are unharmed; two got banged up a bit but nothing serious. Out of the four of 'em who got into the crash, three out of the four have responded."

"The other kid?"

"Well, it's lookin' pretty grim I'll tell ya that."

"What was his name?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see James check his clipboard, "Joshua Mills. He's Mason Mill's kid, you know, the guy who sells all the real estate?"

"Oh yea…damn. Who'd a thought the kid of one of the richest men in London would get himself into a mess like this?"

I want to laugh at this statement, but my mind's getting pretty foggy again. Instead, I try to remember what happened to Josh…

Oh. Right.

I don't know how much time has passed since the start of the race, but frankly I don't care. I'm doing a pretty good job for my first time behind the wheel. Judging by how many cars I've already passed, I'm in about sixth place, which is perfectly fine with me. The point of this isn't to win, just to take my mind ofthings for a while. And it was doing one hell of a good job.

I'm so focused on this feeling of freedom that I don't realize the streak of ice blue that has appeared in my rear-view mirror. Then an aggressive honk rings out. I quickly check to see if I've left any spare room for the guy behind me to pass. I smile when I see that I haven't

'Heh, try and pass me buddy. That's a puzzle I'm sure no one could solve.'

Apparently this boy's found a solution.

I feel the bump before I realize what's happening: I'm sailing towards the side of the road. I slam the breaks and hear my tires squeal, probably leaving some skid marks.

I furiously turn to see who just hit me: it's Josh.

He gives me a smirk as he races past me, and my face begins to feel hot. He's not getting away that easily. I slowly back up, and when I'm back on the road, I slam down. The engine roars and my car zooms forward. I'm coming back for my sixth place slot.

In about a minute, Josh's car comes back into my field of vision. I narrow my eyes and see a sliver of open space. It's just big enough for me to hit him back. I honk just as Josh did, and begin to speed forward, his license plate the target of my impact. It never once occurs to me that Josh has been racing for god-knows how long, and that this is my first race, and that my un-meditated stupidity might actually end in catastrophe. It never once registers that I'm going faster than I've ever gone before and I may end up causing a fatal crash. And upon impact, I never once realize that the fatal crash has potential to become real. All I feel is my car slam, fly, and crash. Within a split second, my body is in excruciating pain and is vibrating with the impact of another speeding racer crashing into the ruins of me and josh's vehicles. Then the darkness closes in, and I'm floating away into a haze.

Dammit. I really am an idiot.

"You've become a stranger to me."

Well that makes two of us, Flora. I barley even recognize myself anymore.

A/N: I like this chapter so much more than the original. Josh wasn't even part of the original story, but I decided to add him in because I wanted to write a little about a character with his personality.

I wrote this and the second chapter months ago, and while it has taken me this long to publish, it means I can have a consistent update schedule for about a week! *confetti rains down*

Alright my magical starfish, that's all for now. Until next chapter,

-Lizz