I love turning Layton into a JERK, which in turn, makes ME a jerk as well. :)

Oh goodness gracious….not much in this chapter. Just transition stuff. I'm trying to find padding for the main plot of this story. I don't want to just come out and BAM! It's all done. I suppose I fail at writing then! Oh well!

Abstaining from meat on Fridays,

Kelsey

CHAPTER 22: WORDS TO LIVE BY

The flat was spotless and smelled like lemons and mint upon the Professor's return. Layton hung the maid's jacket and removed his loafers gruffly, impatiently waiting for Laura to come up the outside stairs.

"Professor, is that you?" Luke raced out of the kitchen, wearing an oversized apron. "You're back! You took so long, I had to find something to do, so I cleaned everything."

"I can tell, or should I say, smell." Luke laughed just as Laura stumbled through the open front door and slammed it shut. He choked on his own giggles and stepped back in surprise.

"Hey, you can't just barge into people's homes! State your business!"

The Professor grumpily hushed Luke. "Luke, she's supposed to be here. This is a former student of mine, Laura Haris. She has some information for me. Laura, this is Luke, my assistant."

She looked at the little boy fondly, smiling warmly. Layton noticed it was the most happy and genuine face that she sported since he first found her at the ice cream parlor.

"Pleased to meet you Luke. Assistant to this bloke? I feel sorry for you." Luke eyed her curiously, a look of hurt on his face after her insults to the Professor. "I don't think you remember me, but we've actually met, although indirectly." She reached into a pocket of her jacket and pulled out a receipt from Dilliam's. She held it in front of her and read it aloud as if it were a decree to some townspeople. "Total of £3, paid in full?"

Luke gasped, his angry expression melting away in an instant. He stared at the girl in front of him as if she were a mythological creature that wasn't supposed to exist, but certainly did. "You…you're the one who paid for me! And…you're the link! All those entries mentioned on that strange blank paper! It was you!" He scratched his head. "Well, I…I always thought you were a child. I've seen you in the parlor many times since then, but I didn't know you were…you! I thought you were just any other customer."

"Actually, she is the owner, Luke…" Layton walked to the kitchen, starting up a kettle.

"No way! Dilliam's is yours?"

"Well, half mine. I've invested in it, but I don't work there or help make business decisions." She smiled again. "Do you like the ice cream parlor? I always want to know from the customers how it is doing. Children are very special to me."

Luke blushed. "I'm not so special myself, although I can talk with animals and I help the Professor with all his adventures! We've solved a couple of mysteries together."

"So I hear!"

Luke turned to the kitchen, a broad, toothy grin stretched across his cheeks. "You hear that, Professor? Laura knows about us! Well, us solving some things and all…"

"Hmm, yes." He nodded, annoyed, finishing up making a brew of tea. "Luke, do we have anything simple to throw together for dinner?"

"I'm on it!" Luke ran to the refrigerator, grabbing several containers and placing them on the counter. "Is Miss Haris joining us for dinner?"

"I'll be in the front room," said Layton, blatantly ignoring the question and setting two tea cups on a tray. "Let me know if you need help."

The Professor held the tray out to Laura before setting it on a small coffee table in the sitting room. Laura grimaced as she looked into the scalding hot tea, steaming from the top.

"You force him to play maid and chef?" she laughed. "Poor boy. Where are his parents?"

The Professor motioned to a chair for her to sit in. She clumsily took a few steps before sitting down, her knees bending stiffly. "Are…you alright?" he asked cautiously, a tone of concern in his voice.

She balanced her cup on her lap, smiling into it. "Oh, yes. I'm fine. I just walk a bit stiff, is all. My knees aren't what they used to be, that's for sure."

Possibilities ran through his mind. He didn't notice her walking so awkwardly before, but…then again, she did tell him to walk ahead; he actually never saw her walking behind him. "Well, I noticed you stumble through the door as well. I thought you only tripped on the welcome mat, but—"

"I got into an accident years ago. My stiff walking is a result of my injuries."

Layton's eyes widened, brow furrowed. "An accident? What sort of accident?"

"Car accident. Both legs broken, bones sticking out, and I had a bit of whiplash. I never really fully recovered. I haven't really ever been the same since."

The Professor sat his cup down on the table. "My God, Laurie, I never knew-"

"I spent almost a year in and out of the hospital, it was pretty nasty."

"I don't remember any major car accidents, when was it?"

"November. Of the same year you ruined my life. Quite some time ago."

The Professor sat in silence, not even bothering to process her negative comment. Then he gasped.

"Ah! That accident on Emerson Street, right before Main, with the odd crossroads?"

"At Lake and Palmer? Yeah, that's the one! You read your London Times, don't you, Hershel!" She laughed airily, glancing to the side, mentally distracted. "One of the few times I actually went to London, and I get into a bloody accident. One that made world news too! No anesthetic could have cured my pain. I laid there for what seemed like eons, smashed between a car door and a lory wheel. Surprised I escaped with what I did. The taxi driver died instantly. Do you know what a shattered skull looks like, Hershel?"

Layton closed his eyes. "My God…"

"I felt like I'd lost all my blood, and at the very least, it looked that way. Ribs sticking out—", the Professor made a sound of disgust, "—my legs were bent the other way at the knee. Glorious sight, really, seeing your legs bent the wrong way. My parents were in a fit, finding out I was in hospital. Of course, I was too loopy to think at the time. And that was about a week later, when I was coherent enough to pay attention to anything. Drugged up real good, I guess I really was passed out for quite a time, until my numbers were balanced.

And when I finally came to, I didn't have enough pain reducers to kill the pain. Worst sensation I ever felt. And I hadn't emotionally recovered either." She stared blankly at the astonished man in front of her. "No one there at my side, except a selfish set of parents, telling me infinite times how I am to remain indoors until further notice, how I would have robbed them of their future if I'd died. I had no ability to refute. I might as well have been dying, the way I felt."

"And…your recovery?"

"Comparably, it was actually quite short, if you'll believe it, even though it still took around a year. I was bound and determined to prove to everyone I wasn't some small, frail girl, destroyed by an accident. They told me I'd never walk again, I told them that was bollocks. But…that doesn't mean I was optimistic. I was, how did my mother put it, oh, bitter as hell? Yeah, that was it. Bitter as hell. But it carried me through. I found a reason for anger."

"I really don't know what to say… I just can't believe that it was you in that accident." He shook his head, looking into his tea cup. "Yes, now I remember. That was on the news for quite some time. I think 20 were killed at the scene, 35 altogether, as some didn't survive the injuries."

"Well, it's over, so there's nothing to say, really." She looked into space beyond the professor's shoulder. "Toughest twelve months of my life. I wasn't supposed to walk again, you know."

"So you've said. Considering that, you're very lucky to be able to walk then, even stiffly." He began sipping his cup slowly, slightly annoyed the tea had gotten cold, but more irritated at his discomfort about the situation. He wanted to sympathize, and he did to an extent. But the awkwardness of meeting someone again after 10 years, given their history together…it was almost too hard to wrap one's mind around. "I'm…very sorry that you had to endure that."

"I hardly recall it anymore, it's been too long ago now."

He shook himself out of thoughts of what it looked like to be smashed in a gruesome accident, close to fainting from blood loss and trauma, and sat his cup on the table. "Well, not to change the subject so hastily, but I really don't think it's productive nor beneficial to dwell on such an emotional subject… As for Luke. It's not through force, you know; the boy wants to learn how to be a true English gentleman. It's a discipline. Who am I to stop him? He's eager to learn how to mature. As for his parents, they live in a small town called Misthallery. They've put him in my care, a sort of apprenticeship, if you will. His father is a good friend of mine."

"Ah, I see. The man can't parent himself? Understandable. Neither could mine."

"That's…not the case," Layton said testily. "His father is a good friend of mine, as I said, and the boy took to me, after a situation in his hometown. It's a long story, but…"

"You seem to be full of long stories, as you said that earlier as well! Do tell us one. Why is your hat different? I'm curious." She folded her hands, as if being polite, but he could tell she was being cheeky.

"I do believe it's really none of your—" A smoke alarm rang out, the shrill beeping cutting off his retort.

"Professor! Help! I think the chicken is on fire!"

"You think?"

After several flustered comments from the Professor, they all finally sat for dinner. Laura laughed heartily as she looked upon the meal Luke presented at the small dining room table.

"A nice fired up hen we have here. She's rather charred, isn't she?" Laura picked at the crisped and burnt chicken at the center of the table, placing the piece she managed to pry off into her mouth. Luke squirmed as he waited for her reaction. "It still tastes wonderful, Luke. A fine job you've done, despite the blackened parts…"

The boy smiled, his round cheeks flushing pink. "You think so? It's actually only my third time making dinner for the Professor. I guess I got nervous, with a guest here."

"It's excellent, I wholeheartedly approve. I actually like that burnt taste."

The Professor remained silent throughout the meal, chewing apprehensively each time he placed a bit of the badly crisped bird on his tongue. He grimaced in disgust, the blackened bits too bitter for his liking, but he wouldn't dream of telling the boy that.

He watched as Luke opened up like a sail in the wind, his questions and comments darting from one topic of interest to another. It was as if he had forgotten the Professor entirely, as he only directed his attention to Laura. Were she not present, the Professor wouldn't have anything to bother about. But the situation had lent itself to worry. Laura lit up and smiled benignly for Luke, as if it were he she had come for, not the man left behind ten years ago. Not that he blamed her…

She asked as many questions as Luke, each time learning more and more about the young apprentice, more than Layton knew himself, or had even thought to ask about in the first place. Perhaps he really wasn't giving him the attention he needed, Layton wondered. He grumbled quietly to himself.

'What's her agenda, anyway?'

Swallowing a particularly dry piece of the main entrée, he downed a splash of water and cleared his throat.

"Say, Luke, you're so talkative now as opposed to any other night at dinner." He smiled warmly, hoping his tone didn't give off his inner feelings: overly perturbed. "I can barely get a sentence out of you half of the time!"

Luke's eyes darted about the room as he rubbed his hands together nervously. "Well, Professor, sometimes I…well… It's not really something I can just come out and say, can I?"

"Go ahead, Luke. A gentleman is always honest."

"Well, if you insist… Then, quite honestly, sometimes it's just too hard to talk with you, Professor! Sometimes, I just don't understand what you go on about, and I don't think you'd understand the things I wonder about all day long either. Rather, I don't think you'd appreciate them, so… Perhaps when I'm a real gentleman we can have deeper manly conversations!" The boy stuffed his hands in his lap and looked at the edge of his plate, face red. Laura burst into laughter, unable to control herself.

The Professor didn't want to catch her expression, but it was too difficult to avoid, as Laura was already giving him a look of sarcastic achievement, a look that said, "Checkmate". She stifled another round of laughter.

"It's quite alright, Luke. If he's anything like how I remember him, he only goes on about dust and rocks all day long anyway. If you can make it out of an archaeological lecture unscathed, you're truly a master!"

"Oh yes, the audience is dying from laughter, Laura." Layton stood up quickly, empty plate in hand, his chair noisily scudding against the floor. "Truly, a natural comedian."

"Oh, I think I know why he's a bit cranky," Luke whispered as the Professor walked away without another word. "You see, he was supposed to present a research paper to the Dean the other day, but he was late to his appointment because his keys were locked in his office! He couldn't get in for a whole hour! I think one of his students did it on purpose…"

"You don't say? We'd have never done that, back when I was in school," Laura exclaimed in surprise. "Even if he is a boring old archaeologist…"

"Surely, I don't need to remind you that I'm right here in the other room!" they heard the Professor shout from the kitchen, a loud clang sounding as dishes were sat heavily into the sink. The two still seated at the table looked at one another, chancing a stifled giggle. "Old or not, I don't require hearing aids!"

"How should I know?" Laura yelled back, unable to let an opportunity for sarcasm to pass by. "I thought your sight was failing back at the parlor, what with that gaudy jacket and all!" Laura shook her head as Luke laughed out at her comment. "Perhaps I'll give him a break. I don't think he's in the mood to keep up with my pithy comments and comebacks."

Layton huffed back into the dining area. "If you two have finished with your fun, I'd quite like to have a bit of peace and quiet. I need to look through my lesson for tomorrow. Luke, you should read a bit before the evening comes to a close."

And with that, he marched into his study.

"Whoop, there goes your last checker. I win."

Luke groaned as Laura jumped his last piece. He followed her lead and helped put the checker pieces and board away. "I really can't beat a soul at this game!"

"There, there. Practice makes perfect. It really does."

The boy slumped back into the faded couch, stewing a moment before his typical energy returned. "Say, Laura, when were you the Professor's student? You don't look very old at all! How old are you anyway?"

She sat back in her seat, stretching her arms over her head. "Don't you know you aren't supposed to ask a woman her age?" She laughed at the boy's worried expression. "While that is true, it's quite alright with me. Well, let's see. I was in his elective archaeology course back when he was still only an assistant professor. See, he had to commute between London and my hometown back then. I went to a college called Grissom's."

"Oh yes, I've heard of that school," Luke said knowingly, nodding his head. "My mum actually went there!"

"What a coincidence! She must be really smart! Not to toot my own horn, but can't be a Neanderthal and go there. Unless you have rich relatives on the school board…but I digress. Yes, he taught a course there, and some other courses over at Gressenheller. That was 10 years ago."

"Ten? You don't look much older than I am!" the boy yelled, eyes wide. "That would make you around—"

"I'm 28," she said with a thin smile. "Way past your age, and…isn't it also way past your bedtime, Luke?"

Luke laughed, as if her question was absurd. "A young man like me doesn't require a bedtime! I go to bed when—"

"—I tell you, Luke," Professor Layton interrupted, placing a fresh pot of tea at the small coffee table. "Why don't you run off and get yourself ready for bed now? You can talk to Laura some more in the morning."

Luke stood up, a curious look on his face. "Laura's still going to be here?"

"I can only assume so, given the circumstances." He grabbed the boy's shoulders and gently prodded him towards the hallway, leading to the bedrooms. "Now go clean up."

With a small prance down the hall, Luke shouted behind him. "Good night, Professor! Good night, Laura!"

"Really now, you should call her Miss…oh nevermind." The Professor shook his head as the boy slammed the bathroom door. "Some days, he retains everything, others…it's in one ear, out the other. Children…"

"No, males," Laura corrected matter of factly, as if oblivious to the probability that her comment would spark controversy. "I've never met one that would listen to reason."

Trying with all his might to suppress a scowl, Layton sighed, annoyed. "Are we going to be able to have a civil conversation, without your bitterness? I'm eager to listen to you, but I've about had enough of your tone and your comments," he said, a small growl in his throat.

She scoffed. "My, my, who do you think you are, my teacher? And such a tone, someone's gotten snappish! Have I said anything that wasn't true this evening?"

"No, but everything is sarcastic and cynical!" he said exasperatedly, his pitch rising. "I want to converse with the old you, the Laurie that could find it in her to be witty and sharp, but with good taste. The Laurie that—"

"—that was used and abandoned?" she said venomously, barely above a whisper. The Professor stared at her quietly, his heart beat escalating for second. It was the same face she gave him years ago, in the middle of his living room, before she ran away, presumably forever. It was an icy expression, yet hot with fury. The same feelings that he felt then passed through him now, triggering bitter and morose memories he'd finally been able to cache away after some time. Now, they were unceremoniously dug up to be experienced once more. In a strange way, he almost felt scared, but wasn't sure why.

"Oh, that Laurie," she continued. "I'm afraid she passed away, years ago. Too much anxiety, too many nonsensical things going on. There wasn't a reason to stay like that. She became tired of it all. The Laurie now, won't put up with such rubbish. Not that the old one would, but…let's just say that now, you won't get away with it scot-free."

Layton sat for a moment, boring his gaze into hers. He refused to believe that she was wholehearted in her comments, but at the same time, he knew she was still hurting, and he didn't want to trivialize her feelings by passing off her jibs as melodramatic. At the moment, he felt guilt, a tremendous guilt, one that hadn't hit him all those years and had waited until the current moment. Or perhaps, he had merely closed off that part of him, leaving it to the faded dust of the past… It was the realization that he'd unintentionally murdered someone years ago, yet had spent those years missing the victim, pining for them subconsciously, now regretting the moments lost during the gap of time that had passed. There was no closure, there was no easy fix. He'd just have to sulk in it until he was purified of his sins, if that time would come.

"Laurie, I know you are hurting, but please. Please find it in you to just talk, just…chat, if you will. We need to take this one step at a time. I'm not trivializing anything, especially not your feelings, but let's put our…past behind us for the brief moment we'll be talking tonight, and cut to the chase." He removed his hat. "First off, I want to make this as concise and quick as possible, as I don't want Luke involved, in any of our business. The boy tries to solve and do too much already. He's eager to please, eager to help, and I don't want to cause him unnecessary stress. If you can't do it for me, at least do it for him." He leaned forward, a change passing across his face. Laura glanced up at him smiling his trademark smile. "I know you already care for him. I can see it in your eyes. It's the only time you were pleasant this evening, being around him. And…the real you peeked from the shadows a bit."

If she wasn't so jaded already, she'd have to energy to ignore the swarm of nervous ants crawling through her skin, the brief skip in her breathing. Looking down at the teacup set out for her, she couldn't help but break out a grin. "I…hate your smile. So much. But… I can't tell you how much I missed it. I suppose I only realize that now."

"That's all you've missed?"

"Just pull out the chaise lounge and ink blots, why don't you!" she laughed. "Don't get too comfortable, I'm not willing to play counselor and dump out my feelings just yet. All I'm saying is, your smile caused me so much grief before, but it still was the most comforting thing that I can remember about you. It spoke volumes. Not that anything in them was true, but… Okay, okay, for now, I'll cap my feelings. But I won't let you forget about them."

"That's fair enough," he muttered, pouring himself more tea. "I wouldn't forget them even if you wanted me to."

Scowling, she pushed her cup away. "Don't you have anything cold? I really can't stand this hot stuff…"

"As picky as ever! Some things don't change…" He went to the kitchen and returned with a few ice cubes. "How about this?"

"It will do. For the sake of time, as it is, well…what, 10 o'clock? I'm not an early sleeper, but I'm a bit tired from travel."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I was doing a bit of travelling a few days ago. I haven't adjusted as well as I usually do. Pity, really. I had my conversation all planned out for you too." She smiled, not bothering with hiding a natural grin. "Perhaps my purpose for meeting you, and your little story about your hat, can wait until tomorrow? Does Luke ever go to school?"

The Professor shook his head. "I teach him a little each day, and he has a private tutor that comes in weekly to check in on his progress. I may be able to leave him with Rosa for a bit…"

"Seems you can still read my mind," said Laura, smirking. "It's best if we can have a bit of time to talk about things without him accidentally stumbling across our conversation. I don't want him involved at all. I didn't really know much about your current situation but… It is what it is."

"Indeed."

"He reminds me a lot…of my brother. Well, a bit older, yes, but his personality. He's very precocious, it seems, as well as energetic." She looked at her knees, wishing them functional. "I'd play games outdoors with him if I could but…my legs have seen better days, unfortunately. A downright pity too, since I'm sure with you about, he has no friends?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that…" He took the tea tray and their cups to the kitchen, leaving them mentally on a chore list for the following day. "I'll clean that up later. I'm assuming you're staying the night, or do you live around here now?"

Laura shook her head, standing up with a bit of trouble. Waving off the Professor's help, she collected her things and walked slowly to the door. "I have a hotel room for now. When are you free? I'll come by as soon as you can have a long and uninterrupted conversation."

He thought for a moment. "If you can visit my office at Gressenheller around noon, I'll have a better grasp on my schedule for tomorrow. For now, would you like me to walk you to your destination?"

"Always trying to walk me home," she mumbled. "I guess some things really don't change, even after 10 years!"

"Words to live by." He opened the front door. "If you're sure you'll be alright…"

"Hershel. I'm not a little girl, you know. Hmm, it's different, saying your name again! Yet, it's also as if I've been calling you that forever." She stepped out of the apartment and onto the stair ledge.

"Be safe, I really don't like the thought of you alone at this time of the night! Really, Laura, shouldn't you—"

"It's right there, on the corner. I'll be fine." She smiled and began descending the stairs. "Don't go worrying about me, now. You just might fall for me again. Tell Luke I'll come by in the morning before you go off to the University, as I'm sure he'll wonder where I went. Have a good night."

"Yes, you too."

He waited until her shadowy, stumbling form made it to the corner of the intersection and entered the hotel, barely a block away. Locking up the metal door, he sighed. He felt thankful for his ability to walk normally, wincing each time Laura had struggled down the sidewalk. She probably didn't think anything of it, but for him, of normal walking…

The Professor sat down on the edge of his bed, staring so hard into the carpet that the floor began playing tricks, starting to warp. He shook his head from the brief lapse in concentration. The room was its typical self, bed with plush pillows, oak dresser, book shelf. Nothing really out of place, save a few piles of magazines, books, and graded papers on an end table. But it felt heavy, dismal, a specter of dejection suffocating everything in the room.

His mind processed the day all at once, as if he siphoned all thoughts from his subconscious and brought them to the mental forefront in an instant. His feelings conflicted, hardly able to handle analyzing what actually happened during the course of the morning, afternoon, evening. He felt that all too familiar warm, burning sensation at the bridge of one's nose when they become upset, and he cried. Covering his nose and mouth, he stifled his sobs.

"I don't even know…why I'm…I must be so overwhelmed, I just can't function!" His voice sounded so far away, even though he knew for sure he was the one doing the talking. "For ten years, I hid this all away, and then, in an instant, it's all back? All at one time. Plus more! Everything's so different now, it's like…I want something back, something from before, but I don't know what…"

'Oh Laurie, the last person I wanted right now, yet the one person I'd ever need. I thought I had her lost, forgotten. What was I thinking? It's not only cruel to forget someone like Laura, but…the fact I did it, I single handedly did it. That fact…it killed her. I'm the only one to blame. Because…'

"I was scared. I was afraid. I was paranoid and impatient, impulsive." He removed his jacket and threw it across the room, watching it with blurred vision fall into a sad pile against the wall. He wiped his tear-stained cheeks and runny nose on his oxford's sleeve. "If only I wasn't so cowardly… What would Luke think or say? I'm such a disgrace… Clark, is it really the best, having me teach the boy? I'm practically a fraud…"

With a final, rough sniff, the Professor lay back on his pillow, wondering what the girl who was left behind was currently thinking about in her room.

'I guess it's completely logical and safe to say, rather, to admit: I missed everything about her. What a lie, what a punishing, disgusting lie, the last 10 years…

Another long story to tell...'

Um...the next chapter is taking on an M rating, but only the next chapter. It's not for the joy of smut; it's in good taste. At least, I think so. :[ Just so you know.