A/N: Warning for non-explicit/hinted suicidal thoughts in the third and fifth drabbles. Thank you for reading!

Introduction

"It's interesting, how you so freely told us that you were Luke, and how you so closely resemble the boy you used to be."

"Is it?" "Big Luke" laughs easily. "And the 'boy I used to be?' Professor, you wound me. Am I truly that different from that boy?"

It's difficult for Hershel to say. Hershel would expect to see every aspect of Big Luke-his outfit, his appearance, his respect for Hershel-in Future Luke, if nothing had changed in ten years. But therein lies the contradiction. Little Luke would be deeply wounded, by such a massive betrayal. And yet this boy, while certainly displaying a certain… aggression towards him (as during the "battle of wits"), seemed to slip into his "role" as apprentice so seamlessly, almost eagerly. Would Luke display such ambivalence?

"Forgive my scepticism," Hershel finally says. "But your resilience is astounding. It must have felt like I abandoned you. And yet, you seem remarkably… put-together, considering my past actions."

"Who else can I ask for help, but you?" Luke's smile grows strained. "I don't have the luxury of picking from a list of allies. You abandoned me, yes, but…" His stare is unnerving. "You're still my only hope."

Seeing Red

"It's only because of Luke that you bother with me, isn't it?"

Clive doesn't bother hiding the vitriol in his voice. "You miss him, but you're not brave enough to contact him. How many times has he tried to phone you, how many letters has he written, that you've been too afraid to answer?"

It's the truth. It must be.

"I'm more convenient, aren't I?" He leans forward, grinning humourlessly. "A good replacement, wouldn't you say? I'm a substitute Luke. A… a poor substitute." The words die on his lips, his attempts at nonchalance fading into oblivion. "Just admit it. G-go on."

It's disgusting how jealous he is of a little boy, a boy who did nothing wrong except possess something Clive never will get to experience as himself.

"I won't deny that there was some truth to what you're saying, in the beginning." The professor's voice is level. "But do you truly believe that's all you are?"

"Yes." He hates how his voice trembles. "What… what other reason could you have?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I might enjoy spending time with you, Clive?"

Yes.

Clive turns away, blinking. He refuses to show the professor crocodile tears.

Light

Every week, as autumn rises and wanes, they take a walk in the garden. And every week, the garden withers further, ravaged by each new frost.

In the last week of November, a thin blanket of snow covers the withered remnants of what once blossomed. That's the first week that they don't take their walk.

Clive had wanted to-the boy clings to routine like a lifeline-but Hershel had convinced him otherwise. Clive doesn't own a coat (yet… Hershel still needs to discreetly ask Clive for his size and favourite colour), and even if Clive "doesn't mind" the cold, Hershel won't let him make himself sick.

The second week, Clive's worryingly quiet, with none of the manic energy that Hershel's grown used to.

Hershel brings a coat for him the third week, and they walk in the garden once more.

"I don't want it to die," Clive says softly, his voice nearly obscured by the crunching of the snow under their feet. "The longer I stay out here, the longer I can trick myself into thinking it's still alive."

At Clive's words, a cold fear lances through Hershel. "It?"

Clive smiles tiredly, pulling his new coat more tightly around himself. "Yes."

Deep in Thought

Acolyte, perhaps, would be the correct word.

Yes, that might work. Clive isn't the professor's apprentice, certainly; there can only be one, and Clive has given up on trying to supplant Luke. He can't be the professor's assistant either. There's already one of those, and, to Clive's disappointment, she is "irreplaceable," according to the professor.

Clive had briefly wondered about protégé, but that didn't seem quite right, and Flora was furious to find out that he'd even been considering it ("I'm already the professor's protégée!") so he'd quickly abandoned that particular designation.

But the professor doesn't have any acolytes yet… does he?

"You certainly seem deep in thought, my boy."

Clive blinks up at the professor. He feels quite shy, all of a sudden, and it's uncomfortable. He clears his throat. "Do you have any acolytes?"

The professor smiles. "Not at the moment. In my prideful early days of teaching, I had hoped I'd acquire some, but all of the most promising candidates moved on to greater things-the opera, detective work, and the like."

So that title is unoccupied…

Clive Dove: Acolyte number one.

How childish. He's ridiculous to even consider it.

But perhaps he'll quietly experiment with that title.

Dark

"How did you avoid going mad?" Clive's too tired to talk, but he won't be able to rest until he knows. "You went through far worse than me, and yet, you're so… stoic, and self-controlled, and then…" he laughs, weakly gesturing to the white walls around him. "There's me, repeating the same old patterns."

"One person's pain can't be compared against another's, Clive." The professor's voice is as calm as ever. "And while my coping methods were less… grandiose than yours, they weren't particularly healthy either."

"What, your puzzle obsession?" Clive throws out the word thoughtlessly, then backtracks, regretful. "Interest, I mean. But it's harmless."

"Luke doesn't always think so." The professor chuckles. "But never mind. I do have some things that helped me through it all. My parents…"

Clive inhales sharply.

"... and friends. But taking care of others helps most of all."

Clive nods slowly as he closes his eyes, remembering Constance, and how he took care of her, until she was suddenly no longer there to take care of: the moment he went completely mad.

Would it hurt the professor if Clive was no longer here?

"Please don't take care of me," he says softly, falling into darkness.

A/N: It's been a year and three days since I started writing PL stories, and I'm so glad I started! I've had so many good ideas and met so many amazing people. I was trying so hard to write a Clive and Layton multichapter story in time for the anniversary day, but it wasn't quite working out. I still plan to someday, but maybe after I get a few more chapters of this done, so I can thread all of the ideas together into something cohesive.

Thank you so much for reading!