::Shifting Gears::

Warnings: Potential spoilers, Slash/Yaoi, non-explicit sex.

Luke returns to London to attend Gressenheller University and reunites with his beloved mentor. However, their joyous reunion is short lived as more pressing matters become apparent.

Hooray! This is my first fic. I'm more of a lurker/reader, but decided to put some work out there myself. I'm extremely anxious, but if any criticism is necessary, let me have it! That's the only way one can improve. Praise for my lack of genius is also appreciated! :3

I do not own these darling characters, just toying around with them.

Luke leapt out of bed upon his alarm clock sounding; the familiar ear shattering ringing had him struggling to regain his bearings as he attempted to silence the obnoxious bells. It took a few tries, but he eventually plopped down victorious on the edge of his bed, both hands on his knees and still shaking some from being so rudely awoken.

He truly loathed that clock, and swore that would be the sound he heard when he died.

Usually it only took a moment to recover from the shock, but today was different. In a haze, his eyes drifted over to the calendar; and that's when it fully dawned upon him why it was so difficult to steady his heart rate this morning.

Today he would finally be beginning his first term at college.

He could see the school from his new flat, the sun slowly grazing over its roof. The university had a heavenly glow to it this morning, a spectacular silhouette against the bright light. It filled him up with butterflies as he dressed and attempted to eat breakfast before heading out. On the small dining table sat his schedule and a notebook. No word from any of his Professors yet on what supplies he'd need, so along with a few pencils and a pen, he made his way out toward the gleaming University.

First Literature, then Composition… Statistics… he said to himself with a groan. He wouldn't be looking forward to that one. The next day held a similar schedule of generic prerequisite courses, typical for someone in their first year.

There was, however, one course he was dying to take, but to Luke's dismay, preference was given to the older students. Alas, by the time they came around to the first years, there weren't any places available. The boy sighed. He joined a small stream of students as he approached the main building, even more glorious looking than it had been from his flat.

"Welcome, students," a stout man began. It was a more intimate classroom than Luke had anticipated; his vision of university was filled with expansive lecture halls and hundreds of other students who would be nothing more to him than strangers. Perhaps this was his notion of college because that's the only type of room he'd ever seen here. No, this classroom in fact only held about forty desks and there was simply a traditional blackboard at the front where the Professor had already scribbled his name and the title of the class. "I am Professor Whimbledy, and this is Introduction to Classic English Literature. Before I begin, please ensure you're in the right classroom. I understand most of you are beginning your first term here at Gressenheller University, and we wouldn't want to start your college career on the wrong foot, now would we?"

Someone rose and excused himself from the classroom.

"Very well then, let's begin by taking the register. Please state your presence when I call your name. Adams…. Baron…Bertson…." Luke yawned. This wasn't exciting at all. In fact, this was exactly like forms. Taking register, probably reading aloud and taking notes and such…

"Triton…"

"Present!" Luke called from the back of the classroom, hand stretched up toward the ceiling. The man adjusted his spectacles. "Ah, Mr. Triton, before I forget; please see me after class… Turnberry…."

Now what was that about? Surely I couldn't have done anything wrong yet! Luke lowered his hand and his head as well. Some of the others around him turned to look, while others politely kept their attention on the Professor.

Other than the incident at the beginning of the hour, the rest of the period was exactly as Luke had disdainfully thought it would be; dreadfully boring. Professor Whimbledy went over classroom "rules" and what books he would require and other supplies that would be useful over the term, then promptly went on to begin a brief lesson about famous authors. Luke tried to be polite and take notes on the lecture, but the few words he managed to jot down weren't the slightest bit coherent.

William Austen Shakespeare Keats Jane John Hemmingway Poe, 1811 Prejudice and Sensibility and modern society. Change.

Well, that isn't going to work. Luke unceremoniously scribbled it out.

The lesson was starting to wind down, and not one mention of homework. He was thankful for that, seeing as his notes for the day were a bit dysfunctional. Out of curiosity and a bit of boredom, his eyes flicked to the clock above the Professor's head.

It was just past ten-thirty.

"And that will do for your first lesson. I expect to see you all bright and early Wednesday with your textbooks! Class is dismissed."

Then, the nerves came creeping back again. As the rest of his classmates quietly filed out of the room, Luke shuffled up to the Professor's desk.

"Excuse me, Professor Whimbledy?"

"Oh that's right, Mr. Triton…. I have a notice here from the Registrar's office; they would like to speak with you immediately." He handed him a small square of paper which said exactly that.

Mr. Triton,

Please come to the Registrar's office immediately.

Regards,

Angelica Bishop

Secretary

3:00

9:00

9:00

12:00

2:00

This wasn't bad news after all, thought Luke. Although the note seemed a bit intimidating, he couldn't think up a situation that could be totally or entirely bad from visiting the Registrar. Perhaps there was just a problem with his schedule? A teacher taken ill? He gave Professor Whimbledy a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Professor. I'll head there straight away."

The office he was trying to locate was in the same building, but somewhere on the first floor. He was currently on the third and quickly realized that he had no idea how to get to the office from there. Perhaps from the front door, but that would include a lot of backtracking.

Puzzle 001: The Registrar's Office

It's safe to assume that the times on the bottom of this note are directions. It was the most basic of puzzles, and Ms. Bishop had obviously anticipated he would have trouble finding his way down. This was a cinch. He followed them exactly; right turn out of the classroom, two lefts that took him down elaborately expansive stairways, and by that time he could spot the office up a bit and to the left.

This one's as good as solved!

(10/10 Picarats earned!)

Luke pushed the door open, and inside sat a willowy blonde typing at a desk. She looked up from her work and smiled.

"Oh, hello… Luke, was it? You requested the Archaeology lecture at eleven, correct? Well, it so happens that there is an opening. Would you like to take it?"

"Yes! Ah, I would." He cleared his throat, regaining some composure, a flush bursting across his cheeks. The woman just grinned and made a note of it.

"Alright then, I'll mark you down for Archaeology instead of Composition. And actually…." She glanced at the clock. It was ten 'til eleven. "Class is about to begin. Do you know how to get to the Schrader Building?"

"I'm very familiar with the Schrader Building, thank you."

"Then you best hurry, your next Professor isn't fond of tardiness."

Luke was nearly running through the halls, looking for a way to get to the courtyard. It was just across from there. Of course, he was more or less walking very quickly, as gentlemen did not run indoors. Gentlemen didn't run in general, unless it was for a significant reason; and this was a reason indeed. Once he found his way outside, his pace increased considerably, zipping past throngs of slower, unsuspecting students lazing their way to class. It wasn't until he made it to the church-like doors of the Schrader Building that he slowed, trying to catch his breath.

The Schrader Building smelled like old books and must, and Luke's footsteps joined a chorus of others against the brick floors, echoing up into the vaulted ceilings. He knew exactly where to go from here, taking a narrow hallway to his right. Sunlight streamed in from the open windows. It caught the disturbed dust particles and turned them into floating bits of glitter, which framed his destination like a halo. He felt his nerves jump, and his pace quicken as he approached the half-open door.

From the sound of it, the lecture had already begun. A smooth, baritone voice resonated through the musty air, one that sent spikes of adrenaline into Luke's bloodstream. He felt his heart beating in his ears as he snaked into the lecture hall.

"…is to examine past societies. Over ninety-nine percent of the history of humanity has occurred within prehistoric cultures which did not make use of writing. Therefore, the only way to learn about these societies is using archaeology…"

He hadn't heard that voice in years. It was like stepping into a dream, this moment had been on his mind since the day he was begrudgingly got on that boat. The small lecture room was filled with rows and rows of chairs, nearly every one of them filled. Artificial light cast a slick glow on the wooden desks, just bright enough to read and take notes comfortably as the shades on the windows had been pulled shut. There were photographs of artifacts lining the walls, and on the desk at the very front sat a small collection of said artifacts, real and distorted and calcified from sitting in the earth for thousands of years.

But what made the setting truly dream-like was the man standing before it all. He felt a cold chill on his spine as he glanced over toward the podium, and found himself frozen in place, lungs suddenly filled to their capacity.

A wide-eyed and suddenly silent Professor Layton was staring right back at him.

And that's chapter one!

Please review, I do love feedback. 3