Professor Layton and the Rewound Repercussions –Part 15—

"Wake up."

Twitching eyelids. "P…professor? Why are you here? Visiting hours are over…"

"Do you know where you are, Clive?"

Clive paused. "I'm starting to wonder, actually. At first I thought I was in my cell, but as you're here, I'm sure I am mistaken."

"You're in a hospital."

"Am I? Well…that's interesting."

"No, it is not interesting."

"Really? It is to me. I'm assuming you're not the one that suddenly woke up here."

"Do you know how worried I was?"

"Worried? For what?"

"Not 'for what'. For 'who'."

"Oh. For who, professor?"

"For you."

"For me? Why? I'm perfectly fine."

"Do you remember what happened during our last meeting?"

Clive thought back. "Not really, no." He closed his eyes. "Hm. How odd."

"What?" Layton took a deep breath, softening his tone again.

"I…I can't seem to move."

"You've been given a sedative."

"Oh." Clive was silent for several minutes. The professor was beginning to think he had fallen asleep again when the boy opened his eyes once more. "Why was I given a sedative?"

"You…you had a breakdown, I would say."

"Oh. Did I? That…I would say that it doesn't sound like me, but then, nothing really sounds like me these days. Not even this voice." He laughed. "I…I don't remember the sound of my own voice, professor."

"Those are the drugs talking."

"No, I… Oh! What is…what…" Clive blushed, then cleared his throat. "Never mind. It probably is the drugs speaking for me, then."

"Why? What did you see?" The professor leaned his elbow on the bed, watching the boy try to rouse himself from dreams.

"I…For a moment, I thought I was…I thought I saw Miss Claire." He chuckled. "But that was obviously fantasy. How strange."

Layton felt his throat grow tight for a moment. "Yes. Hallucinations are funny things."

With great effort, Clive managed to manoeuvre his hand from his side to touch the professor's cheek. He grinned. "Don't be sad, professor. You've still got me."

The professor snorted, pulling Clive's hand back to the bed, grasping it tightly in his. "You are my problem, it seems. Don't give me such a fright; it's bad for this old man's heart."

"Old. You say old as though you're ninety. You're barely old enough to be dreaming of retirement, professor, let alone talking about heart attacks."

"Heart attacks are not limited to the old, Clive. You should know that."

"Yes…yes, I suppose you're right. Death comes at any age, doesn't it? It doesn't…it doesn't discriminate."

Layton suddenly realized how lucid Clive seemed to be. "Have the drugs worn off? Are you in any pain? I can fetch the nurse if—"

"Professor, why do people die?"

"P-pardon?" Layton stared. Clive was far too old to be asking such questions—had the drugs really not faded? Perhaps the moment of clarity was merely an accident, or perhaps…?

"Why did my parents die? They had lived in that apartment complex all their lives without a fault, and yet…it is that very act of existing that led to their deaths." He glanced at the professor, squeezing his hand. "And…and your Claire, she…she died, too…It doesn't make…sense."

Layton sighed. "She was working on the machine itself, Clive. It makes perfect sense that she was caught in the blast, no matter how much I wish it weren't so."

"No…no, it…it shouldn't…" Clive furrowed his brow, staring fixedly at a point on the ceiling. His words were becoming more slurred now, unable to hold a coherent sentence together. He bit back a sob. "It…no…they can't…died, professor…."

Layton smoothed the hair back from Clive's face. "I know, my boy. It's difficult. You'll feel better when the doctors have patched you up. You probably won't even remember this at all."

Luke took a shaky breath, then looked Layton in the eyes. "I'll remember."

"You say that, but it seems the sedative has begun to work its magic again. I'll leave you to your rest." Layton began to stand.

"Don't!" Clive moved with surprising agility, grabbing the professor's sleeve. "I—aughh!"

"Don't move around so recklessly, you'll hurt yourself." Layton put a palm on the boy's shoulder and pushed him back against the pillows. "You won't get better if you don't relax."

"Don't—don't leave me, professor." Clive grimaced, tears trickling down his face.

"I won't, I won't," Layton promised, sitting at Clive's side once more.

"Don't be like them, professor. Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"I don't want to be left alone again…"