A/N: I seem to be writing another fanfic. I tried to resist, but this has pestered me to no end, so here it is. Hopefully it will at least mildly pester me until it is finished.

Do note that this is after Professor Layton versus Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney and that I approached this game from the Ace Attorney side. I have only gotten through two other Layton games, so my knowledge of him is limited. The Professor, however, is not the main character, so I hope I am able to portray him and Luke respectably despite my tepid endeavors into the fandom.

As usual, this contains stress and violence. Enjoy.


Inquisitor Barnham thought that it was quite reasonable to be upset about his arrest.

It was not, however, reasonable to be shaken to this degree.

As his head pounded, he said not a word, the knights formerly under his command leading him to the finest dungeon cell of the building. They still fidgeted as they prepared to lock him in.

"I am well aware you are following the High Inquisitor's orders. Go on."

Before a knight could grip the door to shut it, another head throb—

Mustn't be caught mustn't be caught mustn't be caught mustn't—

The door rattling shut snapped Barnham's eyes open, the hazy silhouette in his mind's eye vanishing.

What was that?

The knights saluted him before hastily turning away from their incarcerated superior and going on out.

At that point, Barnham lost the ability to keep his breathing under control. Short, quick bursts of air came in and out as his head throbbed further.

Had he... had a vision of some sort? Was it witchcraft? Was that what was exerting a hold over him now?

A bolt of pain shot through his chest as another image flicked across his field of vision. A boy in loose clothes and a hat, crouching in the dark. Nothing but fear and panic.

Mustn't be caught mustn't be caught mustn't be caught mustn't be c-caught...!

A tingling hand went to the side of his head as if to contain the migraine, but it did no good whatsoever. Another pang crossed his chest.

Am I—Am I dying? he thought.

"Wh... wh-wh..."

Unable to even ask what kind of witchcraft this was, he seated himself by the wall before he could fall outright.

Was this truly death? A lack of air, a pained heart, numbness of the hands... Surely it was. He was dying. All his work, and he was dying...!

What spell... What witch...

He knew of no spell that did this, but that hardly meant none existed.

Could there have been another reason for this? But what else? What else? What had he done...?

Blurred, black patches spotted his vision as his lungs proved too weak to call for help.

No! He couldn't... Couldn't die here! He had too much to do... Th-the final trial, he... Would he have to miss the whole thing? The end of the quest to which he had dedicated his life, coming and going without him present?

But what could be done if he were dead?

Help...! Kn-knights, please...! You must come back! I-I command you!

But who would save him? Sir Belduke? No. No one was capable. Not if this was witchcraft, nor if it was anything else. He would die here. He would be found dead at the next patrol of the dungeon...

Throat straining as he continued to breathe too fast to keep his vision clear, he struggled desperately to shake some sense into himself. H-he was not necessarily dying. He was... unwell, and... locked up—

MUSTN'T BE CAUGHT MUSTN'T BE CAUGHT MUSTN'T BE CAUGHT

A surge of panic swept over him like a pulse of cold blood as his posture slipped, leaving him to lie on the ground as if he were already dead.

But wasn't he, really? And all for nothing...

He nearly cried before he fell unconscious.


He knew it was just beyond his reach. But that was no matter. It had haunted him more than enough, and he would seize it with his own hands!

That is, if they didn't catch up first.

It was too dark to see as far as an arm's length ahead, but that could not stop him. It was there. He had to find it!

The thing glimmered as he reached out towards it, but the next step plunged him into visionless waters.

It was lost. But they were still coming. They would certainly find him now.

He struggled to kick his way back to the surface, but the hands came upon him, grabbing his limbs, covering his mouth, pulling him away, before he could reach air.

Still dark. Still chasing. Still being chased. That was how things were. That would not change until he found it. He must find it. It was so close, he could tell...

Much time was spent running and stumbling through darkness before a hint of light entered the dream.

He would still find it. But running was not the only way to search.

In his part of the Inquisitors' Hall, he pored over documents lit by candles until his head throbbed.

No. He had to keep searching. It was there. He needed to find it. For the sake of everyone he knew and protected, he had to find it...!


The light flickered a bit before Barnham realised it was that of the waking world. Sucking in deep breaths, he waited for an unknown force to cease crunching on his head. More focus returned to his eyes, and he began to stir.

"Bark, bark! ...Bark!"

"Constantine...?" He tried to sit up a bit more. "Ungh..."

Even with his mind not quite in sync with his body, Barnham was still able to recognise the sound of fur brushing against his armor.

"Constantine." He reached out and felt the small dog press himself against his arm.

With a long exhale, Barnham patted him. At least something appeared to be right...

"Inquisitor Barnham?"

"Hrmf?" Furrowing his brow, he pushed himself up a bit more to see his door wide open, Jean Greyerl standing just beyond it.

"What?!" He cringed back, his arm shielding his face. "Ms Greyerl! What on earth are you doing outside of your cell?!"

It entered his mind to apprehend her immediately, but he was far too stiff from however much time he had spent lying unconscious in full armor.

Her eyes widened, although her posture didn't change otherwise. "Ah..." Her hand covered her mouth a bit as her gaze slid sideways. "I suppose you have no way of knowing what happened, after all." She smiled, dropping her hand to her elbow. "I was released because I am not a witch."

"What...?" What blasphemy was this? Did he himself not prove that she was a witch?

"If you'll please follow me to the town square, Inquisitor Barnham. I believe there will be plenty of... more trustworthy citizens there to inform you of the results of the last Witch Trial."

The results...? So I had missed it after all.

"Very well." Having no other option, he rose to his feet and did his best to keep up with her, Constantine at his heels.

They entered the main hall before his head split in two.

"...!" Breath caught below his throat, he froze in place, a hand flying to the side of his head.

"Inquisitor Barnham?" Greyerl backed up a bit to check on him, but he was in no danger of falling over.

It was me. The hiding boy was me. I could not be taken to prison, by any means. That was... That was all I had the power to do...

Breathing heavily, he let his hand drop as the pain subsided.

Greyerl looked to the side. "Ah. So you are affected as well."

Teeth gritted, he turned his head just enough to look at her. "What is the meaning of this?"

Greyerl shook her head. "You've come across a memory, I take it? From over ten years ago?"

"It was... when I was sixteen..." How was he so certain of that? He had never recalled anything like this before.

"I see. Most of the townspeople have been having flashbacks like this since the curse was broken. Since I was too young to remember much of anything from over ten years ago, I was pegged as the most reliable guide to see you to the town square."

"Is that so...?"

He had no real reason to trust her, nor to doubt her. As it was, he would follow her to the other townspeople at the last Witches' Court and ask the others what on earth had happened.


Nothing made sense, but it was true nonetheless. Nothing else would explain the machinery, the flashbacks, the entire story. It wasn't logical, but... life was not always logical.

"The experiment has ended, albeit far later than it should have." The Storyteller—rather, Arthur Cantabella—watched him steadily. "It is entirely your choice what life to lead now. Many are staying in this town despite its artificiality... but there is now nothing stopping you from leaving."

Barnham nodded solemnly and scanned the faces around him. The townsfolk he had tried to protect every day of his life here. The "witches" he had sent to the flames himself—they still eyed him with a hint of wariness. The newcomers that had rung in the grand end of the Story, for better or for worse.

But it was someone other than these for whom he made his decision.

"Sir Blue Knight, Sir Top Hat." He dipped his head. "I would be honored to accompany you to the world outside of Labyrinthia."

"I see." Wright smiled, arm akimbo. "I'd be happy to have you take your first steps outside with us."

Layton smiled as well. "I commend your bravery in being willing to do so, Mr Barnham."

Bravery, eh?

Luke grinned, gripping the bill of his cap. "There are just enough seats on the boat for the five of us, too!"

"A five-person boat?" Barnham said.

The death of the engine, the water soaking his shoes and trousers—

He kept his eyes shut. "I could drive it myself, if you'd like. I've had some experience with them."

"Really? That's so cool!" Maya fisted her hands. "Were you a boat driver in your past life, Mr Barnham?"

"No."

"Hmm." She leaned her face on one hand. "A boat repairman, maybe?"

Phoenix slouched. "Somehow I don't think that's it, either."

"Mr Barnham." The Professor raised his hand, one finger uncurled towards the sky. "It is most gracious of you to offer, and you may drive the boat if that is your wish. I do recommend, however, a change of clothes before you approach the outside world."

Barnham couldn't help but glance down at his suit of armor. "That would be prudent, yes."

"But what about Constantine?" Maya cried. "He's too cute in that helmet to take it off of him!"

Luke frowned. "Well, he wouldn't seem the same, that's for certain." He perked up again, adjusting his cap. "But he'd be just as fluffy either way, wouldn't he?"

Clearly unsure about this conversation, Constantine sniffed at his vest and then barked.

"Oh!" Luke lifted a finger. "All right, then! I look forward to seeing the new you, Constantine!"

"Bark!"

"Then I shall not keep you from waiting any longer for the new Barnham and Constantine," Barnham said, turning towards the tailor's shop, which was currently quite bustling.