Luke Triton and the Great Farewell –Part 9—

The couch was rather musty from its lengthy stay in the cabin. It wasn't all that warm to sit on, nor was it made of a very comfortable fabric. Yet, when the professor and Luke sat side by side to watch the fire, it seemed right. Its purpose finally recognized, the chesterfield seemed to be doing everything in its power to make the little room cosier.

"Professor," Luke said at last.

"Yes, Luke?" Layton leaned forward and set his teacup back on the coffee table.

"I know…that you're trying, professor. I know you are. But…but I don't think I can go back to who I was before. There is no magic key—no magic puzzle piece that will change everything. This is who I am now."

"I know, my boy." Layton watched the dancing flame. "As much as you believe it to be so, I am actually not trying to change you."

"You…what?"

"It is foolish to think you can change someone—to think that you should change them." The professor shook his head. "I am only trying to understand you, my boy. I can't change the past, but I can change the future."

Hesitantly, Luke rested his head on the professor's shoulder. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"Why wouldn't I be? You're my number one apprentice, after all."

"You just said that to make me happy. You don't have to lie anymore."

"I'm not lying." The professor frowned, looking down at his student. "You really were—are—my ace apprentice."

"I don't believe you."

Suddenly, the professor started laughing, quickly looking away. "S-sorry, my boy."

"What's so funny?" Luke narrowed his eyes.

"Well," the professor chuckled, "it's just that…you reminded me of the last conversation we had before you left. I'm quite sure this is exactly what we argued about. It made me think that you really haven't changed as much as we seem to think you have."

Luke flushed. "Ridiculous."

The professor stared at the fire for a while longer. "Let's go for a stroll."

"Now? It's nearly midnight."

"I know. Indulge an old man in his fantasy a while longer."

"It's pitch black out. We could slip down a hill and no one would find us!"

"A true gentleman never falls down ice slopes." The professor stood, taking his travelling jacket from the back of a chair and pulling it on.

"That's not logical at all!" Luke protested. "It doesn't matter if you're a gentleman or—"

"It was a joke, Luke." The professor wrapped his scarf about his throat. "Come, now, get dressed."

"You've gotten more impulsive in the time I've been away," Luke said as he reluctantly pulled his jacket on. "A true gentleman acts his age, professor."

"A true gentleman also knows to appreciate whimsy," the professor retorted. "I have the torch. Shall we?"

"Only one torch?" Luke replied as the stepped out the door. "This venture seems risky enough as it is—you're only going to bring one light?"

"Stay close if you're scared, then." The professor chuckled. "You used to be afraid of the dark, weren't you? Are you still?"

"I was not. I am not."

"I see." The professor shut the door and locked it securely, then stepped from the porch onto the snowy gravel path. "So, then, you must be clinging to my arm for other reasons?"

"Obviously. You have the torch."

"Have you been eating properly? You seem to be suffering night blindness."

"Shut up."

The professor merely smiled, walking down the gently sloping hill. The air was chill, but there was no wind. Luke rubbed his hands together. The cold made his skin crack, dry and uncomfortable.

"The scenery is wonderful," Layton remarked. "A true gentleman pays attention to the beauty around him. Remember that, Luke." The professor blew on his hands, trembling clouds of breath hanging visible in the air. "I remember when you were scared of this."

"Of what?"

"Vapour. You used to think your soul was trying to leave through your mouth, so you would try to stop breathing on cold days. More than a few times, I was worried you would pass out…"

"I don't remember that."

"You don't need to." The professor held the torch high, sending the beam of light far down the forested path. "I will do it for you."

"Professor…please, stop."

"Walking?" The professor turned. "Am I going too fast?"

"Just…stop." Luke took hold of the back of the professor's jacket, leaning into him. "These petty remembrances, this struggle to find a topic, the way you say you don't pity me when, really, you do…it all hurts."

The professor stood still, waiting for Luke to calm down. "How shall I approach this? They may be petty remembrances for you, but they are my treasured memory. I struggle to find a topic because I want to reconnect. I say I don't pity you because I don't—I sympathize. I can't know what you've been through. No human can experience something the same way, Luke. I can't empathize with you, but I can feel your pain. It is a different pain, but…it is still pain." He turned, patting Luke on the head. "It's been hard for you. You've been through a long, unhappy period. However, it doesn't need to stay this way. You can be happy now. I'll help you—we'll help you. Flora is concerned, too, you know."

"So you talk about me behind my back? Funny, professor, I thought gentleman didn't partake in that sort of thing."

"We did nothing like that, Luke. You know, the distance you've put between yourself and everyone else isn't that unnoticeable. It's impossible to ignore, really. She cares about you, too."

At last, Luke succumbed. "I understand. I'll do my best to stop worrying you. Both of you. If you help me, I'm sure…I'll get better. We'll go on new adventures, all together, like we used to."

"As long as you're happy, we'll do anything."

"But, professor…there's something I want to do. Will you help me?"

"Anything, my boy. Just name it."

Luke smiled slightly. "Wonderful."