Professor Layton and the Rewound Repercussions –Part 18—

"What is the meaning of this, professor?" Clive frowned slightly, regarding the pair of slender wineglasses in Layton's hand.

"To congratulate you on your release, m'boy." Layton cracked the seal on a bottle of sparkling cider and poured them each a drink. "From the hospital, of course. I'm afraid your release from…ah…the—"

"You can say it, professor." Clive smirked. "The asylum."

"Well, yes. I'm afraid that's still rather a ways in the future."

"Isn't it always?" Clive glanced out the window, watching the snow fall. "I'll miss natural light, I'm afraid…"

"I'm sure they'll install windows soon." Layton held out a glass. "Surely, they must realize that sunlight is by itself a powerful healing agent."

Clive snorted, accepting Layton's offer. "You would think so, wouldn't you? Sometimes I wonder how many of the patients suffer from SAD in comparison to how many of them are actually depressed. I can't even tell in regards to myself. Though, the window has helped somewhat."

"I'm glad." Layton smiled encouragingly. "Just stay strong, Clive. The months will fly by."

"That's what I've been told." Clive watched as tiny bubbles rose from the pit of the glass and fizzled to the top. He bit his lip. "I don't want to return."

"I'm sure your admirer will miss you, yes, but I'm certain she will visi—"

"I don't want her to visit!" Clive snapped. "The only person I want to visit is—is—" He stopped, taking a deep, calming breath. "…is you, professor."

"I'm flattered." The professor chuckled. "We haven't always parted on happy terms in these meetings, but I do enjoy them."

"As do I." Clive looked out the window again. "Are you lonely, professor?"

It was Layton's turn to stare into the glass. "No. I am…quite content."

Clive glanced at the older man. "Ah-ah, professor. You hesitated. You can't be as content as you believe if you can't even bring yourself to say it."

"No," Layton said, "You are probably right. I am lonely sometimes, yes. When it snows, I think of the last winter I spent with Claire. It makes me rather…nostalgic."

"I used to go sledding with my parents on days like this," Clive said. "When the snowflakes were fat and fluffy. My aunt tried taking me a few times after the accident, but—well, it was never quite the same."

"I can't imagine it would be." Layton took a sip of cider.

Clive twirled the glass slowly between his fingers. "A human can never take the place of another. Strange, isn't it? How an identical experience can change so extensively depending on with whom you share it."

"Is it so strange? Everyone is different, so it makes sense that everyone has their own unique effect on an outcome."

Shaking his head slowly, Clive replied, "No, professor. I'm afraid we are all very much the same."

"How so, my boy?"

Clive lifted his glass to the light to more effectively see the rising bubbles. "That is a puzzle I will leave to you to solve." He set the glass on the bedside table and rolled on to his side to face the window, his back to the professor. Clive pulled the sheets tight over his shoulders. "I'm afraid I've grown weary. Forgive my rudeness, professor, but I've had an exhausting day."

"Rest well, then, my boy." Layton rose, noting the still-full glass of cider Clive had discarded. He lingered under the pretence of adjusting his coat and hat.

It was only when Layton got to the door that he heard the muffled sob drift from the bed.