author's note: this is a bit of a long once, so stick with me, please.
hey, it's me. you may remember me and this story from 2016 when I went by missjenna on ao3 (I don't remember what my un was on here). thanks to a friend on reddit, I was able to gain access to all my old fics from before I deleted my old account. I still really liked this one, so I cleaned up some language and fixed some spelling errors.
As this was originally posted in 2016 (it was originally called 'After' bc I was going through a phase of giving fics on word names and I think that's dumb now), please ignore the canon established in Lady Layton. Thanks.
Also! I can't believe I have to say this, but ao3 has taught me there are freaks out there - this is platonic. Don't be gross.
From the moment Luke Triton exited the black taxicab, he realized the time difference wouldn't be the only thing that would be difficult to readjust to.
There were small changes everywhere he looked: 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 United States.
"I've been well, er ... Mister ... ? I apologize, I'm afraid I don't know who you are."
Luke chuckled. Not only had London changed, but he had as well - at least appearance-wise. It'd been silly to think that the dean would remember so easily, especially since he was a good few feet taller than the last time they'd spoken.
"It's alright, Dean Delmona," Luke replied as 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 I suppose you're not longer as little as before!" Ignoring Luke's outstretched hand, the Dean pulled him into a hug. "How old are you now, son? It's been years since I've last laid eyes on you."
"I'm twenty years old now, sir. About to be twenty-one in a few weeks, actually!"
Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean Delmona replied, "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 is still on campus? I know the school day's ended, but I was hoping he might still be in his office?"
"Not to worry, Mr. Triton, the Professor is still here. Same office, down the hall. I'm sure you remember the way?"
"Of course, I do!"
"Alright then, off you go. It's been good to see you, but hurry now. Around this time, he's usually packing up for the night."
"Thank you, sir," Luke replied quickly, unable to hide his excitement at the thought of seeing his old mentor and friend again.
"This will be good for him," The dean called after him as Luke headed off toward the office. "Hershel hasn't really been the same since you left!" Unfortunately, Luke is too distracted to hear him.
Once outside the Professor's office, Luke couldn't help but feel nervous. You're being silly, he thought to himself as he stalled at the door, his hand poised just above the doorknob. Sure, it's been a few years since you've seen him, 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 door 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 literal years for this. There's no backing down now!
"Just a moment, please."
Luke stiffened as though he'd touched something hot. After hearing the Professor's voice for the first time in a while, the situation felt very real. No longer was this just another scenario he'd imagined in his head. He'd finally be seeing the Professor again after years of only written letters passing between them.
With bated breath, Luke listened as the Professor's footsteps neared the door, accompanied by the sound of what Luke assumed was a cane knocking against the wooden floor.A s the knob turned, Luke pulled away. His breathing quickened as the door opened and the familiar brim of the Professor's treasure top hot came into view.
"Professor Layton?" Luke whispered, unable to hide the awe in his voice. "Is that really you?"
"Clive?" Professor Layton asked in response, his mouth turned down in a frown. He seemed confused and uneasy at the sight of his former apprentice. His grip tightened on the door frame. "What are you doing here?"
Luke chuckled. To his credit, I suppose Clive wasn't too far off with his disguise.
"No, no, Professor!" Luke replied as he put up his hands as if in surrender, "It's me, Luke Triton!"
"Luke?" The young man grinned as his mentor's tired eyes widened in understanding. His frown flipped already almost immediately into the warm smile Luke remembered from his youth.
"My boy!" The Professor cried out as he grabbed Luke by the upper arms. His cane, momentarily forgotten, fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. "Look at you! You've grown!"
"I guess you could thank all those vegetables you made me eat for that!" Luke joked.
"Come in, my boy! Come in! We have much to discuss, I'm sure!"
"Professor?"
With the two deep in conversation, the time passed quickly. Though it felt as though he'd just arrived, the clock chimed midnight, catching Luke by surprise and left him feeling conflicted. He still had much to say, but he knew the Professor had classes in the morning and at his age it would be unwise to pull an all-nighter. Still, knowing the Professor who always put being a gentleman over anything else, Luke knew the Professor would never ask him to leave.
"Yes?"
The late night had already begun to take its toll on Hershel. He tried to hide the small hints - the fluttering of his eyelashes as he fought to keep his eyes open and the growing sweat along his brow - but Luke could see the man was growing weary.
"Professor, why don't we take a break? Besides, isn't it time for you to head home for the night?"
Hershel attempted to fight back a yawn, but was unsuccessful. "I was planning on staying at the office tonight anyhow. I have a number of projects that need to be graded before class tomorrow." Though he didn't voice it, the slight tremble in the Professor's shoulders at the thought of his remaining workload, did not go unnoticed by his former apprentice. "So much to do, oh my. When did I become so disorganized?"
"Do you need any help, sir? We've known each other for so long, I think I have a good idea of what your expectations are when it comes to your students."
"No, no. It's late, Luke. You should head home for the night. Do not worry about me, my hair may be much greyer now, but I promise you I'm still capable of doing my job."
Something was not right. Professor Layton had always been a horrible liar, especially when it came to his former apprentice. Luke caught his breath as Hershel gripped his pen a little too tightly, his hand trembling slightly. He could just make out the Professor's heavier than normal breathing.
Perhaps it wasn't his age after all. Luke knew these symptoms well, but he'd never thought that the Professor would ever struggle with such a disorder. Luke had always viewed him as some sort of hero who never backed down from a challenge (especially when that challenge involved a puzzle of some sort).
Well, he has been through a lot, Luke theorized to himself. It could've developed as a form of PTSD from the physical and mental strain of our past adventures ... seems that psychology course wasn't as useless as I'd originally thought!
After taking a quick moment to think about the situation, Luke cleared his throat and said, "Professor, I'm going to stay a little longer if that's all right? Why don't you lie down for a bit while I go make us some tea?"
When the Professor doesn't make a move to argue, Luke, taking that as an invitation, hooked his arm around his mentor's waist and helped to pull him up from his desk chair. Though Luke could tell Hershel was uncomfortable with his younger friend taking the lead for once, he allowed Luke to guide him to the office couch.
"Are you unwell, Professor?"
"Nothing gets past you, my boy," Hershel chuckled dryly. "Only a bit. There's no need to worry. I am an old man and even the slightest ill tends to hit a lot harder." He swayed slightly in his seat as if he were about to faint.
"Put your head between your legs, Professor," Luke instructed, his voice stern. "I know it sounds silly, but it really does help."
After a short internal debate, the Professor did as he was told.
"I'll be right back," Luke said as he quickly exited the office to fetch the water heater and two Earl Grey tea bags from the staff lounge down the hall. "Please don't move until the dizzy feeling goes away!"
Luke is frustrated to find that the Professor had returned to his upright position in Luke's short absence. Hershel laughed as Luke's face visibly showed his frustration at his mentor's actions.
"Oh Luke," said Hershel, "The way you solved the puzzle of my symptoms, is it possible that the student had surpassed his teacher? Or perhaps those American colleges are actually as adequate as they claim?"
Luke snorted as he poured hot water into two mugs, "Don't be silly Professor." Carefully, he offered his old friend the larger of the two mugs.
"You know I have panic attacks as well, Professor."
Hershel's warm gaze quickly turned cold at Luke's proclamation. "This is the first I'm hearing this," replied Hershel, his voice quiet and tone serious.
"It's something I've only recently been able to name."
Hershel shook his head in disbelief. "I can't remember a time I'd ever seen you truly struggle despite all our time together. I don't know how I could've missed the signs ..." The professor trailed off, clearly irritated with his own shortcoming.
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 from the tension that had fallen between them.
After taking a moment to reflect, Luke chanced an explanation, "It started after we visited Future London. I had trouble breathing after having a few recurring nightmares, but isn't wasn't anything I couldn't handle at the time. When I decided to go abroad for high school, it became more difficult to control." Luke paused and gave a dejected sigh, thinking back to the constant complaints from his dorm mates regarding how often Luke had tossed and turned and cried out in his sleep.
"Then, the first night at uni, I suddenly couldn't catch my breath. It just kept coming faster and faster until I was hyperventilating. I was alone at the time and lack of oxygen to my brain caused me to faint. I awoke a few minutes later to my roommate and RA sitting on either side of me waving smelling salts. They'd heard me roll of my bed and hit the floor. Despite my complaints, they forced me to go to the nurse on hand who then asked me to visit a therapist once a week. I went the first time to get them off my back, but the man was so nice that I found myself looking forward to each session where he taught me coping techniques like deep breathing and meditation."
Luke paused to take another sip of tea. "Once you know the methods and have practiced them, the attacks become easier to handle on your own. I experienced similar symptoms to the ones you've displayed this evening - shaking hands, excessive sweat, etc. Anxiety is very common after encountering stressful and even traumatic experiences, so it was easy for me to realize what was happening to you."
"Those stressful and traumatic experiences you allude to would be our adventures, yes?" The Professor asked. When Luke tried to backtrack for fear that he'd offended his mentor, Hershel held up a hand to silence him. "It's alright, my boy. I'm not upset with you. I'm frustrated with myself. I suppose I was too enamored with the idea of finding treasure and solving puzzles that I neglected to check in with my apprentice. I wish I'd spoken to you earlier. If those experiences had caused me, an adult man, trauma, surely they would've also affected a small child negatively as well. I am sorry, Luke. I wish I'd been a better mentor to you."
"Professor, I - " But Luke trailed off, knowing that no matter what he said, Professor Layton had made up his mind and considered himself the guilty party (instead of a fellow victim as Luke saw him).
The two sat in silence for a bit, absorbing the new information that has passed between them. The Professor's grandfather clock ticked loudly in the background as it's pendulum bob swung back and forth with each passing minute.
As he finished off his cup of tea, Luke figured it was probably time for him to leave. Ready to bid his mentor farewell, Luke stood and grabbed his bag, only faltering when he noticed large tears falling down the professor's cheeks.
"Ah! Professor!"
Embarrassed to have his former apprentice see him in such a fragile state, Hershel stood quickly, swiping away at his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. He turned his back to the boy, unable to voice a goodbye for fear his voice would crack.
"P-Professor Layton?"
Luke took a tentative step toward the man, his arms outstretched as if to embrace him. "Professor please, what's wrong? Talk to me. I want to help."
"No!" Hershel's response comes out harsher than he intends it to. His heart sank at the thought of hurting Luke's feelings. He swallowed, hoping to clear his throat of excess mucus. His tone is apologetic as he turned and whispered to the boy, "Luke, I am very sorry. I should never have allowed you to be in such a dangerous situation. I was not the mentor I should've been or the one you believed me to be."
Having fallen into such a dark and negative mindset before himself, Luke knew there was no point in refuting his mentor's claims. There was no easy fix, no remedy nor magic pill to make the fear, guilt, and self-loathing for past mistakes suddenly go away. With time, the scars would heal and would learn to forgive himself, just as Luke had done. Still, it seemed wrong to only look on as a bystander as his dearest friend struggled with his own complicated feelings of self-worth.
Luke was older and more mature now, both physically and mentally. Perhaps the Professor was unable to see that and maybe he never would. The whole situation felt similar to how a nervous father may feel on his daughter's wedding day; unable to see that his child had grown and was capable on her own. But Luke had learned the moment he met the Professor so many years ago 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 nearly Hershel slowly as if the man were a feral cat, easy to frighten away. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Professor. Please, you don't have to go through this alone. It is much harder to recover that way." When Layton didn't try to move away, Luke stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his mentor's shoulders, pulling the older man into an embrace.
"You treated me like your own child. You were always fair and supportive. Though you tried to protect me from danger and grief, you never talked down to me even when I was crying on your shoulder. But Professor, I'm an adult now and there's nothing wrong with letting me return the favor."
Hershel's voice broke then. He was unable to speak any real words, only grieve the trauma both he and his apprentice had lived through but never truly acknowledged. Luke smiled sadly as he buried his head into the Professor's shoulder. It was nice to be tall. He'd grown accustomed to hugging the man's legs as a child. He'd only been able to embrace his mentor head on when Hershel knelt down to meet him.
"It's okay, Professor," Luke whispered softly, "I'm here."