After
From the moment Luke Triton exited the yellow cab, he realized the time difference wouldn't be the only difficult thing to readjust to.
There were small changes everywhere eh turned: new stores, newly cemented sidewalk, new bulbs in new light posts along the streets. Before him, Gressenheller University stood proudly, a nostalgic beacon that remained unchanged during his years abroad. He grinned, unable to fight the smile that spread across his face as Dean Delmona opened the university's doors. He too was unchanged, save the several new laugh lines around his mouth and eyes.
"Dean Delmona!"
The stout man's mouth fell open as Luke called out to him.
"How have you been, sir?" Luke asked, doing his best to fight the slight accent he'd acquired while living in the States.
"I've been well, er... Mister...? I'm afraid I'm unsure of who you are"
Luke chuckled. Not only had London changed, but he had as well. It'd been silly to think that the Dean would remember him so easily, considering he was at least a good few feet taller than when they'd last met.
"My apologies Dean Delmona," Luke replied he offered the confused man his hand, "It's me, Luke Triton. It's been a long time, sir."
The dean laughed as an awed smile spread across his face, "Well look who it is! Little Luke Triton, though not as little as before!" Ignoring Luke's outstretched hand, the Dean pulled him into a hug, "How old are you now son, it must've been years since I've last laid eyes on you!"
Blushing Luke replied proudly, "I'm twenty years old now, sir. About to be twenty-one in a few weeks!"
Shaking his head, Dean Delmona chuckled and said, "Has it really been that long? Amazing. Wait until Hershel sees you..."
Luke grinned again, nodding his head, "Actually sir, that's why I'm here. Would you happen to know if the Professor's still here? I know the school day's ended, but I was hoping he might still be...?" The boy trailed off and blushed.
"Not to worry, he's still here. Same office, down the hall. I'm sure you remember the way?"
"I do!"
"Alright then, off you go. It's been good to see you, Luke, but hurry now. I think he was about pack up for the night."
"Alright, thank you," Luke replied, his cheeks blushing further at the idea of seeing his old mentor and friend again.
"This will be good for him, hasn't really been the same since you left," The dean called after him, but Luke was too distracted to hear him.
You're being silly, Luke thought as he found himself stalling before the familiar office, his hand poised above the doorknob. Sure, it's been a few years but he's still the same Professor Layton. There's nothing to be nervous about.
Luke shook his head and cleared his throat. Despite being many years older, the sight of the office made him feel small and child-like again. Waving away his apprehension, Luke knocked once, then twice on the old wooden door. You've been waiting months for this. There's no backing down now.
"Just a moment, please."
Luke stiffened as though he'd touched something hot. Hearing the familiar drawl, the moment felt suddenly real. No longer was this just another scenario he'd imagined in his head. He's finally be seeing the Professor again, face to face after years of only letters and phone calls.
With bated breath, Luke listened as the Professor's heavy footsteps neared the door, accompanied by the sound of what Luke assumed was a cane knocking against the wooden floor. The knob turned and Luke's breathing quickened as it opened and the familiar brim of the Professor's treasure top hat came into view.
"Professor Layton?" Luke whispered, "Professor is that really you?"
"Clive?" The Professor asked, his frown burrowing. He seemed confused and uneasy. His grip tightened on the doorframe, "What are you doing here?"
To his credit, I supposed Clive wasn't far off with his disguise.
"No, no, Professor," Luke chuckled, "It's me, Luke Triton!"
"Luke?" Luke grinned as his mentor's tired eyes grew larger, the stern frown turning and twisting into the genuine smile, Luke remembered from his childhood. "My boy!" The Professor cried as he grasped Luke's arms, his cane falling to the ground with a heavy thunk, "My boy, you've grown!"
"I guess you could thank all those vegetables you made me eat for that!"
The Professor chuckled, "Come in my boy, come in! We have much to discuss, I'm sure!"
"Professor?"
With the two deep in conversation, the evening passed quickly. As the clock chimed midnight, Luke sighed, conflicted. He still had much to say, but the Professor had classes in the morning and at his age it would be unwise to pull an all-nighter. But knowing him as the gentleman he was, Luke knew the Professor would never ask him to leave.
"Yes?"
The late night had already begun to take a toll on Hershel. He'd tried to hide the small ticks, the quick breathing and the slight break of sweat along his brow, but Luke could see the man was growing weary.
"Professor why don't we take a break? Shouldn't you head home for the night?"
Hershel yawned, "I was planning on staying at the office tonight anyhow. I have a number of projects still to correct." Luke couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in the Professor's shoulders as he thought of the remaining works and deadlines. "So much to do, oh my. When did I become so disorganized?"
"Do you need any help, sir?"
"I'm fine my boy. Just a lot on my plate. Perhaps you should head home? Don't feel as though you need to stay, I may be older now, but I'm adequate."
Something wasn't right. Luke caught his breath as Hershel's gripped his pen tightly and turned to the work on his desk. His hands were shaking; his breathing quick.
Perhaps it wasn't his age after all. Luke knew these symptoms well, but he'd never thought of the Professor as someone who struggled with such a disorder.
He's been through a lot. Luke theorized to himself, as he stood and stretched. It could've developed as a form of PTSD from the physical and mental strain of past adventures.
Thinking on this, Luke cleared his throat and said, "Professor, I'm going to make tea. Why don't you lie down for a bit?"
The Professor didn't move, his breathing had become heavier. Taking his response as an invitation, Luke hooked his arm around the Professor and pulled him from the desk seat. Hershel didn't put up much a fight as the younger led him to the couch and sat him down.
"Do you feel sick, Professor?"
"Nothing gets past you, my boy." Hershel laughed, his voice shaky. "Only a bit. There's no need to worry. I'm an old man." He swayed slightly, as though he we were dizzy.
He looks exhausted, Luke noted as he took the Professor's hand and place a finger along his wrist, his pulse is fast like he ran a marathon. But he hasn't moved much since I arrived. Something's wrong.
"Put your head between your legs, Professor," Luke replied sternly as he released his grip, "Try to slow your breathing."
Hershel chuckled uneasily, coughed and then at Luke's pressing, placed his head in his hands.
"I'll be right back," Luke promised as he exited the office to fetch the water heater and two Earl Grey teabags.
Upon his return, Hershel asked, "The way you solved the puzzle of my symptons, is it possible the the student has become the teacher?" He smiled, "Hm, or are those colleges in American as good as they claim?"
Luke snorted, "Don't be silly Professor."
"Pardon?"
Luke chucked as he poured hot water into the two mugs. Carefully, he returned to the Professor and offered his mentor the larger mug.
"You know I have panic attacks, Professor."
The room fell into a heavy silence as the two blew gently on their steaming drinks.
"This is the first time I'm hearing of this," Hershel replied, his voice quiet and tone stern
"Huh?"
Hershel shook his head, "I've never seen you struggling despite the time we spent together. I don't know how I could've missed that…"
Luke took a sip from his mug. The liquid was hot and instantly burned his tongue. Despite the pain, he was thankful for the sudden distraction.
After taking a moment to reflect, he chased the tea with a glass of water and began. "It started after we visited Future London. I had trouble breathing after having some recurring nightmares, but nothing too troublesome. When I decided to board for high school, it grew worse, but again, nothing too dangerous." Luke paused and sighed, thinking back on his bunkmates constant complaints of how loud and irritating he was to sleep with.
"Then the first night in my college dorm, I suddenly couldn't catch my breath. I was alone and unprepared. The lack of oxygen caused me to faint and I awoke a few minutes later to my roommate and RA sitting beside me waving smelling salts. They heard me roll off my bed and onto the floor.
The took me to the nurse and the nurse asked me to visit a therapist once a week for a bit to learn coping mechanisms, such as deep breathing and meditation exercises. Thankfully, it all happened in a safe environment. Who knows what could've happened had I been out and about or driving..."
He trailed off, took another sip and then said, "Once you know the methods, the attacks become easier to handle. I experienced similar symptoms to you. Anxiety is very common after encountering stressful experiences, so it was easy for me to realize what was happening to you."
"These stressful experiences would be our adventures from when you were my apprentice, yes?" Hershel asked. He held up a hand as Luke tried to reply, "It's alright, my boy. I'm not offended. I'm only upset that I hadn't noticed earlier. It would seem my own attacks tend to spring from those as well."
Once again the two fell into silence as they reflected. The clock ticked the minutes by loudly, the only noise in the room save the movement of cups and saucers.
As he finished the last of his cup, Luke figured it was time for him to leave. Ready to bid farewell, he turned to his mentor and faltered when he saw large crocodile tears roll down the Professor's cheeks.
"Ah! Professor!"
Embarrassed, Hershel stood instantly. Luke stiffened as his own mug slipped from his fingers and the floor with a sickening crack.
Hershel turned away. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. His throat felt torn and dry as though he'd been gargling rocks and swallowing sandpaper.
"Professor Layton?"
Luke took a tentative step toward the older man, his hands held out in defense, "Professor please, tell me what's wrong? Let me help."
"No!"
Hershel shook his head. His voice was thick and tone apologetic as he whispered, "This i-is my fault, Luke. I'm v-very sorry. I-I... shouldn't have allowed you to be in such situations…I…was not the mentor I should've been…"
Having felt the same way on many occasions, Luke knew there was no point in fighting how his mentor felt. There was not easy fix, no remedy nor magic pill to make the fear, guilt and self-loathing go away. With time, the scars healed and he would learn to forgive himself. But still, it seemed to wrong to look on as his dearest friend struggled. Luke was older now, both physically and mentally. Perhaps the Professor still didn't see that and maybe he never would. Similarly, to how a nervous father fought to acknowledge a grown daughter on her wedding day, the Professor couldn't recognize Luke as a fellow adult. In his mind, Hershel could not struggle before Luke, only vice-versa. But Luke had learned the moment he met the Professor that in order to grow one must face challenges head on and allow strangers to pass through their lives and aid them in their own growth.
Luke neared Hershel slowly, his arms outstretched. "There's nothing to be ashamed of Professor. Please, you don't have to hide from me.
"You treated me like your own son. You always treated me fairly and like an adult. You let me cry on your shoulder. But, Professor, I'm older now, there's nothing wrong with letting me return the favor."
Gently, Luke pulled the brim of the top hat away from his mentor's face and casted it aside. Luke smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around the Professor, it was nice to be tall. He'd grown accustomed to hugging the man's legs as a child, but now he was close to surpassing his mentor in height. With tears of his own, Luke buried his head in the Professor's shoulder. He croaked a cry when Hershel returned his embrace.
"Please don't cry, Professor," he whispered.
But they both did anyway.