A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited last chapter.

Enjoy!

The first thing I feel is soft. Everything around me is comfortable and cushioning, almost like a cloud. I use all my effort, and, despite my all-aching body, I managed to crack my eyelids open.

Immediately I am bombarded by a voice that cries, "Luke! Luke, can you hear me?"

Speaking feels like a chore, but I manage to mumble, "Flora? What're you…"

"I'm here to see if you're all right." Her sentences are short, frank, and void of any sympathy. "I warned you, you know. I warned you that you were being crazy. Well, how do you feel now?"

"Oh, I don't know. A little tired, a little sore, just a tad traumatized but nothing too severe."

"Please don't do that." The intensity in Flora's eyes dims down. I know I shouldn't have tried to be smart with her, but at this point I don't know how else to deal with things. Although she seems to understand this, it doesn't stop her from continuing the lecture she had obviously already planned on giving. "Do you realize how close I was to having a heart attack as soon as I saw what happened to your little group on the news?"

This grabs my attention. "We were on the news?"

Flora gives a flustered laugh as she says, "Oh, why, you didn't know? Yea, all of London knows the names of you and the rest of your little gang."

I imagine my name appearing on the screen along with all of the other members of the Street Brawlers. This can't be happening. It was a bad crash, sure, but I didn't realize it was bad enough to make the news. This could ruin me. Imagine going in for a job and having yourself identified as a young delinquent who was part of a street racing crash. These thoughts are too much. I shoot into an upright position and immediately wish I hadn't. My vision goes blurry for a second and I feel as though I may vomit, even though my stomach is as empty as can be.

"Luke!"

I shakily hold up a hand. "No, I'm fine I just…when did you see?"

Flora still looks concerned as she says, "The eleven o'clock news last night. They said the crash happened at around eight so they got to the scene pretty quickly. You'll probably be in some newspapers too, but I didn't stop to check on my way here."

Now I have about a million questions flying around my head. "Do they have any idea who caused the crash?"

She shakes her head. "No, no leads so far."

Good. The only thing scarier than having my name broadcasted for hundreds to see was the thought that those hundreds knew that I was the one responsible for this crash. Worse yet would be Flora knowing I was responsible. I couldn't bring myself to imagine her reaction.

I allowe myself a brief moment of relief before asking, "Did they broadcast all of our names?"

"I'd assume so. I mean, it's not like those boys had any family close or rich enough to cover up their—"

"Did they mention a boy named Joshua Mills?" I ask before she finishes. He's the only one out of the gang I know who's loaded with cash. He could easily erase his association as head of the Street Brawlers. God forbid he actually took the fall with the rest of us peasants who joined him.

Flora pauses a moment, then slowly shakes her head. "Actually, I don't think I saw that name come up at all during the coverage."

I grit my teeth, suspicion confirmed. "That bastard, he probably had his parents pay off the news crew. Of course he couldn't be revealed to be a part of any illegal activity, because we can't have his reputation slandered now can we? I swear the next time I see him—"

"Well you won't have to worry about seeing him because he's dead."

When you're young, death seems like a distant concept that you don't have to worry about for a long time, maybe even ever if you play your cards right. Sure old people die but that's because it's their time, and what worth does a life that only consists of sitting in a nursing home and trying to remember your own name really hold? No, when you're young, you're invincible and the future is yours for the taking. Which is why when someone your age does in fact die, it seems unreal. Especially if they're killed in some violent way.

Especially if you're the one that killed them.

I hit him. I hit Josh's car. Not only am I a criminal, not only am I an idiot who couldn't cool my temper and caused a pretty nasty car accident, but I'm a murderer. I killed him. It's my fault. I killed another person and now I can't undo the damage. Sure he was a prick but that didn't mean I wanted him dead. I'm an idiot and a killer and I'm cold and heartless and careless and inconsiderate and awful and…

"Luke? Luke what's wrong?! Luke please answer me!"

"Gah!" My eyes fly open. I wasn't even aware I had closed them. I don't remember ever curling up in this seated fetal position I find myself in. I slowly relax the death grip I don't remember taking on my hair and begin to lower my hands. I'm shaking now. I don't know what I could possibly say. "Nothing's wrong, Flora. I'm responsible for the injuries of at least two other not including myself, which added on to the fact I'm now associated with an illegal street racing gang will most likely gain me some jail time. Oh, and I killed Josh. Never thought you'd personally know a murderer, huh?" Afraid of saying anything I'll regret, I simply take a breath and ask quietly, "So Josh is dead?'

"Yes, he is." Flora speaks carefully.

"Flora…I think I need to be alone."

Flora nods and looks me over with a concerned gaze. "Alright, I'll go. Technically I'm not even supposed to be in here right now, but when the nurses had their back turned, I snuck in." She gives a small smile, which I do my best to return. "I just really needed to see you. This whole thing is so awful."

I manage to force the corners of my mouth to turn up. I can't let her know just how severe of a predicament I'm in, not now. She's already been through enough for one day.

She begins to leave, and then turns around in what seems to be a realization. "Oh! Before I forget, I called Professor Layton as soon as I saw the news."

"I'm sorry, you called who?"

She sighs. "Look, I know you aren't too fond of him at the moment, but it wasn't like he was never going to find out. I figured it was better that he heard from me than from the news. Anyway, he says he'll try and come here as soon as possible, but who knows what 'soon' means for him."

"I don't want him to come." My voice must sound angry, because Flora seems to shrink an inch.

"But Luke, he really does care—"

"I don't want to become another thing he starts to mope over. He has such an annoying way of dealing with things that happen to people who are close to him."

Flora tries to defend him. "With Claire and his friend Randall, those were different situations."

I roll my eyes. "Flora, I bet he'll find a way to blame himself for my own idiocy. And when he finds that way he'll seclude himself from everyone once again and I am not going to deal with it, nor do I want anyone else to have to. I don't want him here and that's final."

There is a moment of silence, and it seems as though Flora is about to leave. Instead, she walks back over to my bedside. "You were about eight when you first met him, right? You knew him for less than a week, and you immediately wanted to travel with him on grand adventures."

"I mean he did save my town."

"Exactly! And he's done so much more for you since then." Her voice breaks but she continues. "But eventually you realized that not all mysteries end as happily as they did for Misthallery. So what did you do? You backed out and blamed Professor Layton for being a regular human with emotions. Because obviously you don't have those."

"Shut up." My voice is more menacing than I mean for it to be.

She sounds amused. "Why. Because it's the truth? Do you feel like you abandoned him?"

"Shut up, Flora."

"You did. You didn't want to go to the United States so at the very last second he managed to convince your parents to let you stay. Yet, he was still torn up about losing someone he loved a second time, and when you realized he wasn't completely over her and ready to go on more adventures with you, you left him. You left him when he needed you the most."

"Shut Up!"

"No." She is calm and collected as she watches me turn red. "I'm sick of this, Luke. I'm sick of you blaming him. It's been going on for months now, and I've tried to help, but you just ignore me and everyone else. When you're ready to actually talk to me and let me know what is going on, I'll be here. Until then, I'm sorry, but I can't be around you." She leaves without looking at me.

I wish I could yell at her to come back. I wish I could yell at her for telling me the truth. I wish I could yell and tell her just how much trouble I'm in. I wish I could yell and apologize. I wish I could yell for help.

But I'm too exhausted. I let my head fall back onto my pillow and wince at how tender it feels.

I try to sleep, and after what feels like hours of restlessness, I manage to drift off.

The room is painted my favorite shade of blue. But now that I look closely, I see the chips and small cracks running along the walls. We were supposed to have a painter come in a few months ago, but it's not like it matters much now anyway. I'm leaving this place for good.

I check my suitcase once more to make sure I have what I need, then close it and lift it off the bed. It's heavy enough to let me know I'm not going to need much after I leave, and light enough to allow me to travel. It won't be a long journey, more like a few hours actually, but I don't want the burden of a heavy suitcase or the reminder that I need to re-buy a dozen items when I get to where I'm going weighing me down.

It's not like this departure is sudden, at least not to me. I've felt it coming on for quite some time now if even his numb mind couldn't. I didn't know what the effects of a quick and angry departure would be for him, so I decided to do everything as gradual as possible. First, I started packing. That took a few days. I didn't want him to become suspicious that my clothes were packed away because I'd been wearing the same outfit for a long while. Next I began to remove any small traces of myself from the flat, such as my pocket knife and model cars I liked to build. Finally, over the course of three months, I began to stop talking to him. This was so, when I did decide to leave, he wouldn't have to go through any shock not having me there to talk to would cause.

I straighten my blue sweater with my free hand, and proceed to the living room where I know he'll be sitting, staring blankly out of the window just as he's done for the past few months. Sure enough, there he is, playing with the fraying rim of the top hat he received from his now deceased sweetheart, Claire. He never puts it on anymore, he just sort of plays with it on his lap. It's strange and pitiful to say the least.

"Professor."

He looks up slowly. "Oh, my boy, off to school now?"

I refrain from rolling my eyes as I remind him for the third time this week, "No, Professor. It's summer holiday, which means school's out."

"Oh, yes, of course." He goes back to playing with the hat.

"Actually, I've come to tell you goodbye."

He stops playing but doesn't look up this time. "I had a feeling this was going to happen."

Maybe he was still a bit sane after all. "Really? And you never bothered to say anything?"

He smiled sadly. "You're eighteen now, Luke, an adult. I can't tell you what to do anymore."

"Well…fine. I just wanted to let you know something before I leave." He nods and I clear my throat. "When the school year starts back up, you should return to Gressenheller. I know you took the end of the last school year off, but you can't just leave forever. I mean, I won't be here to tell you otherwise, but it would probably be best if you had something to do other than mope. Get your life back on track, Professor. It will do more good than you'd think. Unless you want to embarrass yourself and become one of those up and coming figures who fell and now lives a meaningless lives. You're an adult so I can't tell you what to do either, and honestly I don't care anymore. Just know that this is pitiful."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

A small spot appears on the rim of the hat, then another, and then another. "Thank you, my boy. May I ask where you're going?"

"Flora's." I say curtly. "Goodbye."

I hear the sound of a few more tears falling onto the hat as I make my way to the door.

I jolt awake at the feeling of someone touching my arm. I turn expecting to see Flora so I can apologize. It's a nurse. My heart sinks.

"Oh! I'm sorry to wake you up, I just came in to check on you and it looked like you had been crying. Are you in any serious pain?"

I lift a hand up to my cheek and feel dampness. "No…I was just…" I stop myself. I can't bring myself to confess it was because of a memory. "Actually, my head is kind of throbbing."

"I'll bring you some medication."

"Thank you," I say as she leaves. I wipe the tears off of my face and lay back down. I wish I hadn't dreamed about the day I left the Professor. I don't think I even noticed the fact he was crying when it first happened. But memories exist to show and make you see details you wish you could forget. Like the way his voice never became angry. Like the way I kept acting like I was better than him.

Now after last night, I realize that he was the better man all along.

A/N: My summer break starts next week, so hopefully I'll have more time to update! *crosses fingers* I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review!

Until next chapter loves,

-Lizz