[[What's this? Apparently some people don't think I suck at writing romance. :D Thanks to those who reviewed the first part of this story— it makes me happy.

Anonymous the guest reviewer then requested: "Perhaps you could continue this, maybe have a scene back at the hotel?" So, this has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot if such a thing exists. This is a follow up but I'm still unsure which point of the game that dancing clip or when Luke being chased by the Masked Gentleman from the MMP trailer is at, so bear with me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Emmy + Layton + Hotel bedroom= Shameless smut. But I can make it more interesting than that...]]

Disenchantment

The three of us made it to the Camel's Hump Hotel in one piece after our run-in with the Masked Gentleman. Luke had been left quite shaken and weary by the villain's most recent "miracle" and he wanted to rest. I would never dream of teasing him at a time like this; the poor kid was probably scared out of his wits.

We passed the clerk at the desk in the immaculate lobby and trailed up the grand staircase to the boys' quarters. The rooms here were fit for royalty (we were Mrs Ledore's special guests, after all): there was a large arched bay window that offered a clear view of the dessert, long regal blue curtains framing the glass. You could sit in one of the green settees, gazing outside. Between the seats was a round wooden table polished to glossy perfection. A pretty vase of flowers and an oblong mirror had been placed above the mantel piece. Everyone had their own king sized bed (Luke would surely feel like a tiny mouse in a giant hawk's nest) with a fancy headboard and clean white covers.

Once inside room 502 (and away from prying ears) we discussed the day's events, the progress we had made in our investigation of Monte d'Or, and anything we'd learned about the Masked Gentleman. Then the professor informed Luke and I of his past. It broke my heart to hear him recount how he had lost his best friend eighteen years ago. Occasionally he would hesitate as he unearthed these troubled memories to us. Were we the only people he'd ever told what had happened? Perhaps he was filled with regret; like an unhealed scar at the back of his mind. I know I would be remorseful if anything happened to my companions. Luke was like a younger brother to me, and the professor... I didn't even want to imagine the gaping hole that would be left in my life without Professor Layton.

The professor had only been talking for a few hours when he decided to stop, insisting we retire to bed as it was late. Strangely, he appeared bitter after telling his story; older, withdrawn, drained even, so unlike the usual confident professor that we knew. Was this really the same man who had danced with me before? He'd looked much happier then, with a cheerful smile spread across his face. Now there was only a deep sadness in his dark eyes.

-0-

I would have preferred to share a room with the professor and Luke, but instead I was up in 602, a floor directly above them. Oh, well. I wasn't scared of being alone. (Thankfully, this hotel was far too clean for any spiders to be crawling about.)

Just before I drifted off to sleep I heard a sudden yell below me, and I bolted out of bed, immediately alert. The next thing I knew there were fleeting footsteps along the hall and someone pounded on my door. I flung the door open, coming face to face with a very distressed looking Luke. He stood in the doorway wearing his light blue pyjamas; his was hair dishevelled, eyes wide with fear.

"Luke! What's going on?"

"I-it's the professah—"

"Is he being attacked?" My blood ran cold. "The Masked Gentleman is here isn't he!" I would kill that scoundrel if he'd dared hurt the professor.

Luke shook his head frantically. "N-no, I don't think so...The p-professah just started shouting and thrashing for some reason. But he wouldn't answer me when I asked if he was okay. I didn't know what to do... Come and see!"

I swiftly followed him downstairs to their room. Sure enough, the professor was convulsing in his sleep just as Luke had described. The professor grasped the duvet cover so hard that his knuckles turned white. Sweat plastered the man's forehead; his features were contorted with anguish. Another cry broke from his lips:

"R-Randall... Ngh... I... I can't hold on...!"

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Luke asked me worriedly as if I was a doctor. Never before had we seen the professor in such a terrified state. It must have been frightening for Luke to observe his fearless mentor this way.

"RANDALL!" The professor's arm flew out. Reaching for the friend he had been unable to save.

I replied "It looks like he's having a nightmare." A horrible nightmare induced by the underserved self guilt the professor had harboured for all these years. Only now after visiting Angela and reliving the past was that guilt starting to show. I sat on the edge of the professor's bed as his screams gradually became pitiful whimpers.

"Angela, forgive me... I couldn't save him. I'm sorry; I tried! I'm so sorry—!"

"Shouldn't we wake him?" Luke had entered major panic mode now. "Or maybe you're not supposed to wake people up... No, that's just for sleepwalkers!"

Placing my hand on his hot cheek, I too wondered whether it would be wise to rouse him. He was suffering but we didn't want to give him a shock... Before I could pull my hand away the professor abruptly turned to me. First I thought he was awake. However, his eyes were tightly squeezed shut and the pained expression was still there.

"Claire..." I stiffened when the professor uttered this name. "Is...Is that you...?" I was silent as he stretched his arms out again, this time for Claire.

Luke wasn't near enough to hear the professor properly. "What did he say?"

I didn't respond to the boy though; my attention was still fixed on the professor. He groped around the sheets, desperately searching for her. "Where are you, Claire?"

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I whispered "I'm... I'm right here." Hesitantly, I crawled closer so that I lay with him on the bed.

Feeling a body beside him, the professor wound his arms around me and gave a tremulous sigh of relief. His breath felt warm againsy my face. "Please, don't leave me again..." He ran his fingers through my wavy hair, holding me tight.

I hugged him back and assured him softly "Yes, yes, I'm right here. I won't leave you... I promise, Hershel."

I remained like that for several moments— locked in an embrace not meant for me- until the professor's ragged breathing grew deeper and his pained expression finally receded. For now he had slipped into a peaceful slumber; his frame no longer rocked with unease. I slowly shifted away from him (hoping he wouldn't stir) and got off the bed to face Luke.

"He should be alright now," I murmured to the boy. (Why did my voice sound so thick all of a sudden?) "But if he has a nightmare again, just wake him up gently."

Luke nodded. "Or maybe you could give him another hug. That really helped him..."

I shrugged. I wasn't the person the professor had believed he was cuddling. I cast my mind back to earlier when the two of us were dancing. Did all he see was her when he looked at me?

[[Just in case anyone is confused, Emmy has no idea who Claire is here. She's just guessing that Claire must have meant a lot to Layton... I've heard some people say that Emmy resembles Clare in a few ways. And if you're wondering about the title, Emmy has been "disenchanted", realizing that Layton may not have felt the same thrill as her when they were dancing. She wonders what she truly means to him.]]