Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton, unfortunatly - I'm just a humble fanfiction writer paying homage to a series I love.

Author's Notes: This will be the last story I upload to this account, as I have moved to another name - Hoshiko Aurora - and am uploading this story to let anybody who has me on a story alert where they can find me. I'm also uploading it here because I think it belongs more to this account, as it is a fair few months old.

Beginnings

If a train leaves location A at 8.15am in the morning and is travelling at fifty miles an hour, with seven scheduled stops of five minutes each for the embarking and disembarking of passengers, then what time should it arrive at location B?

Hershel Layton tilted his head up to look at the clock on the wall.

10.57am.

According to the timetable, the train should have arrived several minutes ago. Usually he was quite tolerant of the trains running a little late, since it was one of the things that characterised the country of his birth, and a few minutes here and there would not make much difference. However, the reason he was waiting for this particular train was quite possibly the most significant thing to happen in his life since he had left home fourteen years before, and it had a name.

Luke Triton.

Hershel had not seen the boy in six years, and he had been just a year old then, a bright, cheerful child with far too large blue eyes and soft brown hair. He was the son of a close friend from university and through the frequent letters exchanged between them, Hershel had followed his progress with great interest. When Luke had learnt to read, Layton had always enclosed a small note for him with several puzzles that he was told were eagerly awaited and attempted with great perseverence.

He glanced at the clock again.

10.59am.

In his hand were two letters, both showed signs of having been read time and time again.

Hershel opened the first.

'Will you be returning to England soon, Hershel? Surely six years is far too long to be gone? I am sure that the quality of tea in South Peru is nowhere near that of English tea, and Katherine assures me that she still remembers how you prefer to take it. Luke is still enjoying the puzzles you send with your letters, and dedicates as much energy and perseverence - perhaps more - as he does to his schoolwork, but I am sure he would want to actually see you in the flesh, to assauge those doubts that you are a real person, and not mythical like Santa Claus...'

He had replied and promised that as soon as his obligations at the archeological site were completed, he would make time for a visit back to England.

Knowing that it would take several weeks for his letter to get to England, Hershel had been surprised when he had recieved another with the familiar postmark of his friend's town just a few days after the first, and had opened it with apprehension that proved to be well-founded.

Dear Mr Layton. We regret to inform you that Michael Triton and his wife Katherine were involved in a road traffic collision on the 3rd of May this year, and that their injuries were fatal. As neither have any living relatives and per the instructions of their will, you are named as next of kin for their son, Luke, who is currently being cared for by the local orphanage until you have made a decision on what is to be done with him. We recognise that you are currently residing overseas, and will wait a month for your response.'

Hershel had made his decision immediatly.

Within days he was on a boat back to England, the nausea he always felt with a sea-crossing mingling with the magnitude of the task ahead of him and the thoughts about a newly deceased friend and a child left without his parents.

When he had arrived, just three days before, he had straight for London to continue his preperations.

First of all was the university where he and Michael had both studied. When he had graduated, they had extended him the offer of a Professorship of Archeology, and Hershel was grateful to find that the offer was still there. He had savings and some money left for Luke's upkeep, but it would only keep them going so long, so a job was neccessary. The job would start in several weeks with an introductory set of lectures on his subject as well as filling in on several others whilst preparing for the coming year, and Hershel hoped that the time before then would help in getting Luke to settle in and cope with his parent's death.

Despite knowing it would not do anything to make time pass any faster, his eyes were once again drawn to the clock.

11.04am.

"Excuse me, sir." He asked a passing guard. "Can you tell me the reason for this train being late?"

"Problem with one of the lines." Came the gruff reply, from a man who had obviously been asked several times already. "Shouldn't be much longer now."

"Thank you." Hershel nodded, falling back into thought.

In a sense, he knew what Luke must be feeling. Hershel's mother had died shortly after he was born, and his relationship with his father had always been strained, so Hershel knew what it was like to cope without parents, but it was not the same. They had both lost their parents, but Luke's had both been alive and loving, something which Layton had not experienced. Michael's death was the first true loss that Hershel had encountered, so he had nothing to compare it with, and hoped that he would still be able to help Luke.

With a promise of employment, next on his list was a place to live. He settled on a small townhouse, situated a walking distance from the university that was more than adequate for their needs. There had been little furnishing any of the rooms, so after making a list, he had spent several hours going from shop to shop, making so many orders that it had made Hershel's head spin. He listed them again in his head both to pass the time and make sure he had not forgotten anything. As well as ordering the furniture, he had stocked the kitchen, made the beds and removed a fine layer of dust from all the surfaces and spent the next hour with red eyes and an inability to stop sneezing.

Hershel rubbed his forehead, fingers hitting the brim of the hat he was wearing. It was new, and after spending most of his time without one, since hats were not practical in Peru, he was still getting used to it, but remembered to tip it to a young lady that passed by. She blushed, faintly, and this small action made Hershel smile despite the anxiety swirling around inside.

11.08am.

The shrill noise of a train whistle broke into his thoughts, and Hershel looked up to see it pulling into the station. As the doors opened and people disemarked, his eyes searched for Luke. He had a grainy black and white picture, which he hoped would be enough to identify the boy and was relived when the crowd began to disperse and he spotted a small figure, clad in green shorts, a blue jumper and matching cap. His brown hair was ruffled and his eyes quiet as they searched the people around him.

Hershel stood up.

This was it, there would be no turning back now. There had never been any thought of doing such a thing, but seeing Luke gave it an air of finality that made him wonder if he was capable of the task ahead.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, Hershel walked up to his new charge.