The Destiny of Alfendi Layton

Prologue: A Worthy Father

Hershel Layton was never the fondest of children. Now, this might come as a surprise to you, considering he seemed to bond so well with Luke Triton, his young apprentice, and even Flora Reinhold, the girl he took under his wing as his adopted daughter. Yet, Professor Layton didn't deem himself a worthy… oh, how do I put it…? A worthy father.

Layton had once pictured having a family with his university sweetheart, Claire Foley. Maybe they'd live out in the country, on a farm with a few bright-eyed children. They could've grown to be successful and creative and they would bring their name to the sky in colors and- I'm sorry, I'm getting a little carried away. That vision, that beautiful family he had woven together and fantasized about had unraveled when she passed.

Now Layton didn't think about children, or much less, a wife, much after that. People rarely questioned him about anything related to family life for that reason only. Taking in the young, preteen, Luke Triton came as surprise for everyone who knew him. And even more marvelous, the boy seemed to look up to Layton more than he did, his own father. Even Flora Reinhold, a girl who was at least eighteen years old, seemed to have an emotional attachment to him, after losing her father only months before she met Layton.

His charismatic looks and charm never failed when talking to children (I'm trying to say this in the least pedophilic way, honestly). Kids were just drawn to him… unfortunately; he was not necessarily drawn to them. Layton seemed to push children away; he was uncomfortable with having them around. Maybe it was because all of them reminded him of Claire, the love of his life that he would never see again. Maybe it was because he taught college aged students rather than grade school ones.

No one was for sure of why he seemed to reject the affection of children. Of course, he would never act ungentlemanly around them. Layton would always cast a smile in their direction, give them any hard candy he might have had in his pockets. Although he, himself, might not have enjoyed the constant magnetic energy he possessed to draw children towards him, he never rejected it. He would always share love and fondness towards them in order for them to feel special. He knew how to act around children, his only issue, I suppose, was taking care of one.

But… I guess he has to learn, doesn't he?

Hershel Layton was having yet another late night. The university had ordered some frivolous paperwork to be finished by at least eight o'clock the next morning and being the prestigious professor everyone admired, he was certain that he would get it done. He scrambled for note cards and pens and other assortments of office supplies lying in a heap in a desk drawer. This was not a pleasant time to be sitting in his office jotting things down.

The weather just outside his window was frightfully scary. The wind howled against the walls of the school and rain came down in sheets as if it was going to tuck everyone under the water. Layton had just called Flora about ten minutes earlier, alerting her that he would not be returning back to the flat that night (it was maybe the fifth to sixth night in a row). She had sounded upset because now Luke was gone and she would be all alone in the darkness. He had assured her that he would be back tomorrow (Sunday morning) and they could go to Mass and have a lovely brunch. The girl had agreed and then hung up the telephone.

He immediately got back to work, still scribbling notes and measuring artifacts and other assortments of ancient relics. Although the work was tedious, he couldn't deny that he loved every minute of it. He remembered briefly for moment, his old college professor, Dr. Andrew Schrader and nearly everything he taught him. Layton still looked up to the man and would visit him on a regular basis in order to maintain a healthy relationship.

While he was still taking note after note, Layton thought of the very first class he taught. He could easily remember almost every student because each and every one of them had made such an impact on him. The first year at Gressenheller was filled with such… good people (the easiest way to describe, he assumed anyway). That was the same year Claire had passed away, when he was merely twenty-seven. Layton could remember vividly that he was rarely in the lecture hall at all. He had worked so tediously to discover the bastard who had caused his love's demise that he had actually been put into a hospital for some time.

Layton could remember, even in the sadness and depression, that his students had been extremely supportive. He would even picture them crowding around him for a class group hug when he returned from the hospital. He smiled and let out a soft chuckle at the memory. As the reminiscence settled in his brain, his mind drifted to the first student that had entered the lecture hall: Bethany Dane.

There were a few things he could clearly remember about Bethany. She was overwhelmingly beautiful, with her light purple waves and golden eyes. She was clever and determined. He knew after a week with being in class with her that she would move on to do many great things and with his help, if she wanted to, she could become one of the greatest archeologists the city of London had ever seen. She ended up pursuing chemical engineering instead (which was quite a disappointment to Layton) but he was happy for her nonetheless. The two tried their best to keep in touch after she graduated, but it became hard as their employment took charge.

Over the course of the last ten years, Layton had met with her several times. He knew from their previous encounter that she had one, very young son. The boy was only about two months old at the current moment and Layton had yet to meet him. He also knew that Bethany was not married, nor did she have any siblings and her parents were both, unfortunately, deceased. So her beloved Professor was nearly all she had in terms of family, besides her son.

Layton smiled thinking about her. She was one of his few students that had made a large impression on him and still made an effort to visit him after graduation. And almost as if it was telepathy or some other sort of mind reading procedure, the phone rang and Layton would be the most surprised as to who was on the other line.

"Professor…" A mumbling echoed from the other end of the telephone.

"Yes, hello," he swallowed, "Who, may I ask, is this?"

"Bethany Dane," she slurred her name together, "Professor, I'm in trouble, please, can you get to my flat immediately," she then let out a groan and the telephone made muffled sounds and shuffling.

"Bethany," Layton stood from his chair, "Bethany, are you still there?"

There was no response.

"I'll be right over, hold tight, all right," he waited for her to give some sort of reassuring sound.

"Okay."

Layton hit the gas as soon as the light flashed green. The rain pouring on his windshield made it difficult to see, and especially to drive. His mind was spinning. What had happened to her, what was going on? He couldn't make out anything helpful from the phone call, but Bethany seemed to be in a deep rut, he just had to find out what it was.

When he reached her address, he pulled over to the curb, ignoring the normal traffic laws and yanking the key out of the ignition. Even after all these years, the Laytonmobile was still in marvelous shape for a car. Bethany would probably remember him driving it around campus… focus Layton. He jumped out, slamming the door behind him and running around his car to her front door.

"Bethany!" He hollered, at first knocking gently and just hoping that whatever was going on was not a major problem, "Bethany!" He cried again, this time banging his fist on the door; rain was pouring down over him, soaking his clothes and flooding his shoes. Finally, Layton just stopped knocking, obviously something was wrong and he had to somehow get inside. The Professor reached for the door knob and twisted it, pushing the door into the small foyer area. He nearly fell into the wall across from the entrance, smashing his face into the plaster.

"Professor…?" Bethany was on the carpet in between two luxurious sofas and across from a blazing fire place. Her body seemed to be lying in an uncomfortable position and Layton could see from where he was standing that a puddle of blood was flooding the space around her body.

"Oh my goodness," He ran to her, kneeling his legs in the red liquid that was oozing on the floor, "Who did this to you?" Layton cried, carefully lifting her shoulders and propping her head up on his arm.

"I… I don't know…" she mumbled, "Someone… a man, yes a man, smashed that window…" she pointed towards the back of the flat where a large window pane stood above her dining room table, it no longer contained glass, "When he saw me, sitting…ahh," she held her hand over a wound on her stomach, "Sitting on that sofa, reaching… reaching for the telephone, he shot me." She sighed, as if talking required a large amount of energy.

"Did you call the police already?" Layton asked her, she seemed to be drifting off into space, "Bethany, did you call the police?"

"No," she said firmly, wincing as the pain grew stronger, "I called you."

"Oh my goodness," Layton looked around him for the telephone, "I will contact them right away, right now," he found the phone which had recoiled away from Bethany on a spiraling cord. He quickly picked it up and dialed the police.

"Professor… please," Bethany reached up for his chin, "Please, my son…" She had tears forming in her golden yellow eyes, "He's still in his crib… please make sure he is all right," she let a tear roll down her cheek, "I want to see him one last time."

"Hello, Scotland Yard police force, what is your emergency?"

"A man broke into a woman's house earlier this evening and shot her in the stomach, please send paramedics to 3675 Parkwood Avenue immediately," Layton said as smoothly as he possibly could.

"Yes sir, right away,"

"I'm going to find your son Bethany, please just hold on until then," he said to her as reassuringly as possible. He carefully placed her head back down onto the blood-soaked carpeting and jumped to his feet. He ran through the dining room and into a darkened hallway, in one of the rooms, he could hear the faint crying of a baby. He opened to door with a second hesitation and proceeded to the child's crib. He looked a lot like his mother, the same purple waves, and golden yellow eyes. The moment Layton looked over the crib at the child, the crying ceased and the infant watched him carefully put his hands under his small body. He ran out of the nursery with the child in his arms and progressed towards Bethany, whose body was almost completely limp.

"Oh," she began to cry at the sight of her child, "Alfendi," she looked up at the baby squirming in Layton's arms. He kneeled down next to her and handed her the infant, while still propping Bethany's body against his, "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry I have to leaving you so soon, I…" she gripped the baby in her bloodied arms, "Please, Professor," she weakly turned to him as the color drained from her face, "Please, do whatever you have… whatever you have to do to… to take care of him for me."

"I… I promise Bethany," he replied as strong as he could muster. She smiled faintly before her head fell back and her body went cold, "Bethany…" the Professor said quietly, "Bethany!" He cried, realizing that she was gone. Layton looked down at the crying baby in her dead arms and picked him up, cradling him, "I promise I will do whatever I have to do to take care of you."

"Professor!" Flora ran into the police station, her mascara was smudged from tears and her face was red with blotches. She scurried towards him, her feet slipping and sliding on the tile floors, she nervously flung herself into her caretaker's arms.

"Hello dear," Layton wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, so tightly, she didn't think he would let her go, "I'm so happy to see you Flora, it's been quite a… quite a night." He sighed, swallowing the pain in his throat.

"Constable Barton filled me in Professor," she told him, still not budging, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry my dear," he told her, "Please."

"Layton!" Inspector Chelmey stood behind him, nervously scratching the back of his head, "I need to speak with you for a moment, please." The Professor broke away from Flora's embrace and she swallowed, sitting down in an uncomfortable chair next to the front desk.

"Yes, Inspector," Layton turned to the mustached man.

"Listen, I realize that this woman was one of your students and you were very close to her," he began, "And I believe every word when you said that she wanted you to take care of her son, Alfred…?"

"Alfendi," he corrected.

"Alfendi," the Inspector confirmed, "Layton, I know this will come as a shock to you, but we don't believe that you'd be the best fit for the kid."

"What are you implying Inspector?"

"Layton, you're never home," he blurted, "I just spoke with Dean Delmona nearly five minutes ago. He told me that you haven't slept at your flat in six days, how do you expect to take care of a child if you're never home to feed it and change its diapers and put it to bed at night?"

"I- I," the Professor muffled.

"Listen, you're the most trustworthy guy I know, I'm being honest," the Inspector began, scratching the back of his head, "But how do you really expect to take care of a child?"

Hershel was lost for words. The Inspector was right; he was unfit to take care of Alfendi. He was rarely home, he didn't cook, he couldn't clean, his job had become the most important fraction of his life that it had ruled out all others.

"I promised her Inspector," Layton said quietly, "I promised her that I would do anything to take care of that child and I'm not going to break that promise for some silly reason like that." He sighed, "Maybe I should just… maybe I should just quit."

"Now Layton," the Inspector warned, "You're not going to quit your respectable job for a child? A child you barely know, a child that actually you just met… today!" He waved his hands in the air, "Layton, making rash decisions like that is not a wise move, and I promise you're going to regret it." He was yelling now.

"He's going to regret what exactly?" Flora had stood up and someone found her way in between them.

"Flora, please," Layton massaged the wrinkles in his forehead.

"No, I'm eighteen, I have a right to know what is going on," she said stubbornly, "Now what is going on!?"

"The woman had a son," Layton turned towards her, "And she asked me to take care of him as her last dying wish, and I'm definitely considering it."

"A… child?" Flora asked.

"A two month old baby," he replied.

"Oh my goodness," she looked down at the floor, "And you're debating whether you should take care of him or…"

"Quit my job at the university." Flora looked down at the floor.

"Oh," she swallowed and scratched the back of the head. "Professor, I…"

"Flora, please," Layton turned around and pivoted his feet, "Let me just think about this for a moment, please," he put his hands in his face and breathed out.

"Professor," Flora reached out to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Layton, why don't you go home," the Inspector suggested, "It's been a long night… and um… and I think you should sleep on it."

"I… I think that sounds like a rather good idea." Layton nodded at the Inspector quietly holding back the sobs that were echoing from his throat.

Hi guys, I just recently came up with this idea and Mystery Room is amazing, so why not. In this story I really want it to be really family oriented, I like Professor Layton fics that do that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the Prologue and the first chapter will be up soon! Please review and thanks for reading!