A/N: No constructive criticism!? Why children? WHY!? I have to improve my writing my own way then... By reading even more!! This time it's A Hat Full of Sky and Fruits Basket (Okay, so that's a manga!) XD!! This fanfic will be CRUSHED by the time PL3 and 4 come out, since I made up Luke's past (you have to admit, it's fun to do so!), but I did use his father's real name! I'm thinking about bringing Claire into this fiction. Layton doesn't play a huge part in this story (well he does, only in the memory parts!), so I guess it wouldn't hurt. I JUST noticed that Flora is kinda the main character! It's kinda weird 'cause I'd much rather choose Luke or Layton before her. ANYWAYS! On with the story!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton... Or do I?! I don't, I don't.
Memories
Chapter II ~ The Scent of Foxgloves
It was bright beyond brightness.
Luke lay there, almost paralysed with thoughts. From somewhere in the brightness echoed the sounds of his heavy breathing. Part of him wanted to move. He couldn't though. There was an invisible weight covering him. It didn't hurt him; just restricted his movements. He wanted to cover his eyes however his arms couldn't move that far. His eyes began adjusting to the light, it no longer burned, though when he blinked they stung like venom.
"Luke."
He gasped as he sat up, shocked by the lack of pressure. The voice seemed to have lifted the weight off his chest, but he didn't dare move any more in case the burden came crashing back down on him. His body loosened slightly, relaxing from it's previously tense form. Around him the grass rippled in the whispering winds. There was a cosy, white cottage at the edge, facing a battered bridge to a forest. He knew where he was. He didn't know how he got there. He didn't know why he was there. Then it struck him; he was dreaming.
"Luke."
The voice came again. It wasn't a frightening voice of any sort, it was filled with kindness and spoke softly. A woman's voice. And there was a woman, owner of the voice. She wore a white dress that was brightened in the summer sun, and a French bodice. She had spent all winter making them, and was lucky not to have spent much money. Luke wanted to shield his eyes from the brightness, but he didn't. He forced himself to grow accustomed to it.
"Luke, what are you doing on the floor? Mr. Layton is coming soon and you wouldn't want to have grass stains all over your clothes!"
Luke shook his head.
"There's a good boy," she scooped him up, which made him realise that he had shrunk a great deal and seemed to of grown back some puppy fat, and cradled him like a baby, though his legs stuck up awkwardly. A mother always wants to treat her son like a newborn, even when he's six, nearing seven, years old.
Luke leant his head on her shoulder and brushed his face against her lightly powdered cheek. Make up was expensive, so she could only get cheap white powder and even cheaper red lipstick, that made her green eyes and red hair contrast with each other. She always had the same scent. The scent of Foxgloves and cheap make up. He had once gotten her some perfume for her birthday, with the money he had earned selling and delivering newspapers. She didn't wear it that often though, only on what were classed as 'Special Occasions' such as other birthdays and weddings and, mainly, funerals. Luke didn't mind so much. If she wore it all the time it would ruin her scent. The scent of his childhood.
Luke quickly found himself dizzy as she span around slowly, singing Oranges and Lemons gently into his ear. Her hand crept under his cap, and was stroking his honey-brown hair.
"'Oranges and lemons' say the Bells of St. Clement's
'You owe me five farthings' say the Bells of St. Martin's
'When will you pay me?' say the Bells of Old Bailey
'When I grow rich' say the Bells of Shoreditch
'When will that be?' say the Bells of Stepney
'I do not know' say the Great Bells of Bow
Here comes a Candle to light you to Bed
Here comes a Chopper to Chop off your He-" her singing was interrupted by a forced cough, making her stop spinning and glance off toward her side.
"Mr. Layton! You're early!" she said happily, setting Luke down. Luke looked at the man in the suit and top-hat. He had more money than them, but he still visited. His father always said that Professor Layton was kinder than any other richer folk, including his grandparents, because they were rich but they didn't ever bother to see them. They were too ashamed that their only daughter had married a poor man.
"I apologise, Mrs. Triton," he said as he tipped his hat. "My clock must have been ahead of time. Was I interrupting your song?"
Mrs. Triton flushed bright red like a rose, but thanks to the powder only her cheeks tinged pink. "Oh no, Mr Layton! I was almost finished, and I'm sure you know how Oranges and Lemon's finishes."
Luke dashed over to the man speedily, his tiny legs competing to move faster. When he was in reach, he glomped Layton's leg (for he couldn't jump so high). Hershel immediately lost balance and fell to the ground. Mrs. Triton walked over to aid them, laughing. "Now, now, Luke. I know you are terribly fond of Mr. Layton but there was no need to tackle him." she said kindly. Luke scrambled back to his feet and clutched the back of her dress.
Layton knelt down to the boys level. "A true gentleman doesn't attack other gentlemen's legs." he said with a smile. "You look just like your father, my boy."
Luke grinned proudly. He looked nothing like his mother, she had deep red hair and forest green eyes. His hair was honey-brown and his eyes were so dark they probably didn't even have a proper colour. His mother and father were both skinny. Luke would be too, but his puppy fat filled him out a bit. However, he was still a pile of bones compared to normal children, who had three meals a day and pudding.
"Mr. Layton, would you like some tea? I would offer some biscuits but we ran out last week." Mrs. Triton said, motioning towards the cottage.
Layton replied politely. "I wouldn't want to trouble you, Mrs. Triton."
"At least come inside, I'm sure your legs are tired from the walk."
Luke continued to cling onto the soft, clean fabric of the dress as the adults made their way to the cottage. Inside it was furnished with old paintings and portraits, from when the family actually had money to spend, even older chairs and tables and a tiny stove. In the hall, the ladder to the attic was forever down, allowing Luke to climb up into his 'room'. His parents had a small room downstairs.
The only room that was finely decorated was Mr. Triton's study and office, only because the university gave him the furniture when they were clearing out.
Layton sat down at the wobbly table and sighed. He had often tried to give the family money, but they always refused.
"I cannot take that, Mr. Layton," Mrs. Triton always said, holding her arm gingerly in her hand. "Clark wouldn't like it, Mr. Layton."
Hershel had to always force himself to accept that the family was too kind and hard-working to take money from a friend. Despite his parents actions, Luke always seemed happy to take money. "I'm saving up! That's a little more money!" he had exclaimed, taking the two-pound coin. When Layton asked what Luke will spend his money on (little boys always seemed to have an eye for sweets and confectionery), Luke said he was saving up. When Layton asked what he was saving up for, Luke always replied "It's a secret."
Luke jumped off the last two steps of the ladder and stamped his way into the dining room. He sat opposite Layton, and swung something onto the table.
Layton examined the object for a few seconds. "That's a rather nice bear."
"Mummy made it for me!" Luke grinned, stroking the bears dark glass eyes. "She made it all by herself!"
"Your mother is very clever isn't she?"
"Yup!"
Layton took another look at the bear. It had a classic bear expression on it's face, velvety yellow fur and a silk blue ribbon tied around it's next. It wasn't that surprising that Mrs. Triton had made it for him. If there was anything she loved, it was her son. She would probably jump off the Clock-tower for him.
When Mrs. Triton sat down with a small cup of tea (that was, incidentally, for Layton), she explained that he couldn't come round on Wednesday.
"Are you busy?" he asked, curious.
"Clark's sister died. We have to go to her funeral."
"How horrid. I'll remember to apologise to Clark next time I see him."
"He would like that... Can I ask of a favour?" Mrs. Triton said shyly. "Would you mind look after Luke, a funeral is no place for a child his age."
"Of course, I have no other plans."
Luke beamed. He had never been to the Professor's house before.
After the short conversation, the three went out for a walk in the forest. It was the usual schedule, Layton visited every other day and went for a walk with Mrs. Triton and her son. Mr. Triton had asked him to do it a few years ago, he was buried neck-deep in work and wanted to know how his family was getting on. Layton agreed, but it soon became part of his timetable.
Luke always ran ahead, playing games. The adults always talked, hence why Luke ran ahead. What they talked about was too boring.
The route often followed across the bridge, along the path, when you reach the river, hop over it, then walk along the river. After about half an hour you come across a bridge. Then you simply follow the river back up until you see the path again. The whole walk often two hours, add a couple of minutes for Luke's breathers, which he deserved for running so much.
This time was slightly different. The Summer Route; they continued walking down the river until they met the creek, where Luke took off his shoes and socks and played merrily in the clear waters. Often, his mother joined him. Sometimes, even the Professor joined in, though it wasn't very common. He usually stood guard, but what he was guarding them from was unacknowledged. Bears? Wolves? Definitely not. The only creature or thing that would cause a threat were the small group of boys on the other side. It just so happened Luke was prone to bullying. Perhaps it was his size, or his family's lacking wealth? Possibly his voice. Whatever reason, the boys thought it was good enough to trick him into going to the end that was much too deep. The stones were slimy with wet moss, and Luke slipped, smashing the water surface head-first.
"Luke!!" his mother screamed. An over-protective urge almost made her swim through the water after him. She didn't. Layton did. A gentleman always helps others.
Part of Hershel screamed inside. He had forgotten to take off his shoes. An unknown feeling didn't care. Luke was more important than shoes. He could buy new shoes, although he could not buy another Luke. The water had grown cloudy and red, with hints of blue, like the sunset sky. Layton pulled the unconscious boy out the water. An unpleasant gash was below his cap (that had stayed on, surprisingly), on his forehead. The Professor resisted panic out loud. He panicked in his head instead. Is he going to be alright?! We have to get him home! He needs some rest and-- Layton gasped mentally. Guilt filled him half-way, the rest was joy. He felt like Luke's father. Not felt like, was Luke's father. More guilt poured into him. But Luke's father was still here, working hard to support the family he loves so much. Mrs. Triton waded over, her dress thoroughly soaked and took Luke off him. She rested her head against Luke's chest and rocked him slowly, her frightened tears landed on Luke's cold jumper. Layton offered to carry Luke home, but Luke's mother ignored him and cradled Luke, still in the water.
"Wake up, my baby. Please wake up." she sang softly. It would of sounded lovely, but Mrs. Triton's love for her son made her close to sobbing. "Wake up, my little baby. Just wake up."
. . .
Luke woke up. Light spilled onto the floor of his room, and a very happy cat was stretched out, absorbing the warmth. He just lay there, confused and snuggled into his duvet, clutching a worn-out yellow bear with a blue bow. That was a... A dream?, He asked himself mentally. It was a peculiar dream, so detailed, and confusing. It had so much detail, parts of it linked onto other, shorter dreams, before going back to the main dream. Something like that. It was too confusing to describe. Luke often forgot his dreams, however this dream stuck into his head like a spear. It's just a dream he noted to himself. It wasn't just a dream. Some of it were real. Almost all of it were real. The only part he wasn't sure about was just before he woke it. He guided his fingers over his face and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. He noted that his face was sodden with perspiration. So was the rest of his body, making his bed clothes cling onto his skin.
A gentle drumming came from the door. Luke opened his mouth to say 'Come in!' but his mouth closed again. He tried again. And again. He began to feel like a fish, blubbering in his bowl. He knew how to talk. It was elementary. He gave talking another shot and failed. Each time he tried to talk, his brain cleared. He had forgotten how to talk. He. Had. Forgotten. How. To. Talk. Hehadforgottenhowtotalk. He was struck-dumb. Great.
~Mystery #2~
Hehadforgottenhowtotalk!?
Luke wakes up and finds himself unable to talk... How strange! He didn't really talk when he was coming home, so he doesn't know when this silence began. If he is Struck-Dumb, then something must of happened that shocked him into the world of silence. What could of happened?
The door knocked again. "Luke? Are you asleep?" The door creaked as it opened a few centimetres. Flora. "You're awake! Why didn't you answer the door?"
Luke watched her as she began tiding some of his clothes away, that were scattered all over the floor. She muttered something about the clothes on the floor, then turned back to him. "Go on, why didn't you answer the door?"
Luke opened his mouth. It closed. It was beginning to frustrate him. He couldn't even tell her to go away. Something confused him. He felt almost paralysed, even though he could move about freely. He wanted but didn't want to talk.
"What's with the guppy impression?" she teased. Flora always acted slightly differently when the Professor wasn't around. But then again, so did he.
Luke flushed crimson. It was either with rage or embarrassment. She went back to cleaning. "The landlord told the Professor that there was a fight at Cambridge..."
Luke attempted to groan. Apparently, he couldn't do that is well. The last thing he wanted was to think about the fight at the college-house. Flora wanted to discuss it further. "You weren't involved were you, Luke?"
~Mystery #3~
The Fight
Turns out there was a fight at the college-house, but was Luke involved? It would help if Luke would talk! Maybe it's the reason for his unusual silence...? Who knows! Someone must know. Maybe talking to the other students would help, let's hope they're not struck-dumb is well! Gather more information on the fight, and maybe we can solve the mystery of Luke's silence is well.
Luke could see the light of being struck-dumb. It meant that he couldn't answer anyone's questions! After being bothered by Flora for a couple more minutes, she gave up and carried on cleaning downstairs. He heard the radio (or wireless as Layton called it, talk about old fashioned!) blare from downstairs.
"Alfie!!!!"
That wasn't the sound of the radio. Luke chuckled in his head as the thunderous beast bounced up the stairs. A large hairy black head poked from around the door, it's red tongue lolling out happily.
At the sight of Luke, Alfie wagged his tail and bounded on the bed, scattering the cat out the room. Luke hung onto Alfie's monstrous head, rubbing his forehead on the dense black fur. Alfie, who was a particularly large dog, licked Luke's nose. He liked the taste of salt.
An uneven tapping sound of shoes on the stairs was heard, before Flora burst into the room. "Okay... What did that thing do with the shoe?" she growled, pointing shakily with rage at Alfie. Luke blinked and shrugged. Alfie didn't bring a shoe into his room...? Luke grabbed hold of Alfie's jaws and opened them, putting his head into the mouth of a lion. "..." he said (he wanted to say something along the lines of 'Aha!'), as he pulled out a chewed slither of leather off the dogs tongue.
Flora groaned and trudged out the room. Luke noticed she was only wearing one shoe.
. . .
Flora went back to scrubbing the kitchen down, barefoot. Someone had to do it, and anyway, she didn't hate it. To be truthful, a part of her liked cleaning. She could pretend to be a maid or a house-keeper, working at a royal mansion for a millionaire and his son. It was a very small mansion, and the millionaire was a little poor. Oh well.
Claws clicked on the tile as a hairy thing walked into the kitchen. "Oh no Alfie! You leave my other shoe alone!" Flora looked at the dog, then at the shoe, then back at the dog. Alfie edged closer. Flora's hand twitched. Alfie opened his mouth... Flora took a step forward...
"No Alfie!!"
Luke grinned to himself. It was good to be home!
A/N: Okay, so those mysteries are linked together a bit... Just so you know the Fight mystery wasn't one of the planned ones! This chapter was shorter than planned, but the dream was longer than planned. I don't really understand the dream part myself... But dreams are confusing, so it works!! And a short note on Alfie, he's also based on a real pet; my friend's dog!
