Jean Descole lay weakly, terribly injured, as Layton and Luke dashed off, as they had to do. He couldn't even summon the energy to turn his head and watch them go, instead listening to their footsteps echoing through the sanctuary. He was almost regretful that his reunion with his brother had ended, and they would never meet again. Almost. But it was for the best. Hershel Bronev had lost his parents and brother, Desmond Sycamore had killed his wife and daughter by refusing to join Targent. Jean Descole would surely be responsible for Layton's death if he got close to his brother again.

He should have apologized. He hadn't been a good older brother. What kind of person would try to kill their little brother? Fortunately Layton had been clever enough to outwit him. Layton… Hershel. Even after thirty years, it still felt odd to call his brother by the name he himself had once possessed. He called him Layton not because calling him by his first name would indicate a measure of familiarity, but because he was half-convinced he would slip and call him Theodore again. But not Theodore Bronev, never that. Bronev was a monster, no longer the man he had once considered his father, and Layton didn't deserve any association with that name. Layton would stop him… He had to. Descole thought he should feel proud of his brother. Layton would succeed where he had failed. Layton would save the world from the person who had once been his father… He should be proud.

But all he could feel was numbness.

It was all over for him.

At least soon he would be able to see his wife and daughter again…

Was that…

Was that his daughter he saw? Had she come for him?

"Desiree," he choked out. "Is that you…?"

"... No," came the soft reply. The girl's eyes glowed blue, as did the gem on her forehead, and her hair seemed to be blown by an unfelt breeze as she knelt over him. "I am Aurora, an artificial being created by the Azran to serve a single purpose. I was not supposed to have desires of my own. I was there when their civilization fell. I watched and I despaired. Then I awoke, not to destruction, but to a bright new world, filled with happy faces. Filed with friendship. Your people and your world gave me hope...and a purpose of my own."

"Hope? A worthless illusion," Descole retorted. He had learned the hard way that hope amounted to nothing. "As Desmond Sycamore, I hoped to live a normal life with my family. I believed I could move on from my past and live for more than just revenge. What naïvety! And of course, just when I thought I'd found happiness, fate wrested it from me. Now my wife and daughter are gone, and with them, that fool Sycamore." But was that really true? The time he had spent masquerading as Sycamore, he had found himself enjoying, almost believing the lies he told… No! A lie, that was all it was. Just another lie, like the happiness he had found with the family he made. "I am Jean Descole, a broken husk of a man. Let the world burn for all I care!" And he would burn with it. Served him right, really.

"Is this really what they'd have wanted for you? You say you have lost all hope, but what about the hopes of your family?" Aurora closed her eyes, becoming thoughtful. She looked so like his daughter… "Though they are gone, their hopes and dreams live on in your heart."

"Ridiculous…" It was a foolish sentiment, but somehow, he couldn't look her in the eyes and say it.

"I have seen the sadness and longing in your eyes. You hide behind this persona, but I know you still have the capacity to love and...to hope."

"You're wrong," the tortured man snapped. "I care only for revenge. Jean Descole is all there is. Yes, I assumed the guise of Desmond Sycamore, but it was to manipulate my brother for my own ends, nothing more…" That was all it was. Sycamore was gone, had been killed with his family, his hopes and dreams. Although he had enjoyed getting to know his brother after so long—no! He had been using his brother! The only logical thing to do when it became clear, after being defeated thrice, that Hershel Layton was the better man.

"Professor, there is still kindness within you. I forgive you, even if you do not forgive yourself." The Azran girl's words cut Descole like a knife. How could she see through him like this? And how, why did she forgive him, after everything he'd done? "And I know your brother will forgive you too." Another stab to what was left of his soul. Jean Descole didn't deserve forgiveness. He had been as much a monster as Bronev. "You have suffered greatly. You have anguish enough to crush your spirit, but you also have great strength. You mustn't give up!"

A strange feeling filled Descole as she spoke these words. It was like... Determination to do one thing right before his end. "Hmph. Very well. I suppose coming back from the brink does have a certain flair. And it makes for the perfect dramatic entrance…" Aurora seemed to fade away before his eyes, like a dream when its dreamer awakes, as he made his decision. But in truth, Descole knew that despite his words, he wouldn't be "coming back". He was only postponing his death a little longer.

He just felt that he had something important to do first.

A/N: I dunno, man. I was writing something about Professor Sycamore and then at midnight when I still couldn't think what to add, I went to bed, and then at 12:30 I got back up and spent an hour writing this because I felt like I had to write it. I hope someone enjoys this, at least, even though it's very strongly based on "Dreams of a Dying Man", the episode from the game. It's kind of like my fic "Redemption" in that way. Anyway, drop a review if you liked this or if you have a suggestion or request (which will hopefully be done better than this!) Thanks for reading~