DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing.

—s—t—a—r—t—c—h—a—p—t —e—r—

"G'morning, Professor!" Luke chirped, grinning at his older friend as he opened the door immediately after said professor had knocked on it. He was already all ready to go, with blue blazer and hat of matching color on his person. He even had his satchel with him. The boy had sure been expecting company.

Layton smiled at his young companion, always amused by his eagerness for such mundane a thing as coming to the professor's abode. "Good morning, dear boy," he greeted him in return, folding his arms across his chest as he glanced for a moment past the boy, into the apartment he and his father shared. It was rather plain-looking, but it was clean. "Ready to go?" he asked, though it was obviously rhetorical.

The short brunette bobbed his head happily. "Of course!" he replied, stepping across the threshold of his own home and shutting the door behind him, using the key he had in his hand to lock it tight before tucking it away in his pocket. "Shall we?"

The professor laughed. "Indeed."

And so the two walked. Luke lived in the lower half of London with his father, Clark, in the collectively poorer part of town. Well, slept there would probably be a better choice of words. Luke was almost always with the professor, keen on being with him when his father wasn't home (which was usually six days a week, if not the full seven). One might think that Layton didn't appreciate the idea of babysitting for free, but that wasn't the case at all. Luke was a very intelligent boy, always one for learning even at the weirdest of times. Layton had always liked children, and over the years he'd known Luke he'd developed a strong attachment to the boy, akin to the bond a father shared with his son. Plus, they both enjoyed puzzles. Of course they'd get along like champions.

They walked on amiably, enjoying the relative silence of the early morning streets. Hardly anyone was out and about just yet, a few scattered people here and a couple of homeless men there. It was almost eerie to they who were too used to the constant buzz of voices and click clacking of feet and hooves alike on the stone-paved roads, but the professor found it pleasant. He could hear himself think, for once, but he wasn't pondering anything in particular at the moment.

"So, Professor," Luke spoke up as they meandered down the lane, comfortably enjoying the early morning air. "Did you read yesterday's paper?"

Layton gripped his hat and smiled down at the blue-clad boy, an obvious indication of a positive answer. "But of course," he assured, holding a finger in the air. "A true gentleman always keeps himself up to date when it comes to the news."

"Right," Luke smiled back at him, rustling around in his bag to take something out. He shook out a newspaper, unfolding it so that one could see the headline: Witchcraft a Fraud? "So then you read that article that interviewed Inspector Chelmey? What did you think of it?"

The good professor turned his gaze back to his front, none too eager to make a false step and go careening down into the stones. "I thought it was very well-written. Wasn't it a lady journalist who wrote it? One doesn't see too many of those."

Luke puffed his cheeks out. "Professor," he said childishly, elongating the vowel sounds. "You know what I mean. D'you think the town will settle down after reading it?"

Layton laughed. "Now, Luke, a gentleman doesn't whine. I mean what I said; it was written well. The logic throughout the article was quite sound. Any literate person should be calmed by it." He paused for a moment as they crossed the street, nearing a huge bridge that separated the two halves of town from each other. "But there are going to be those people whom believe in such things as witchcraft that will stick to that theory no matter how much palpable evidence is shown to them."

Luke nodded his head. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Like Rosa, right? Most people are suckers for gossip and tall tales like this."

Layton merely gave him a small hmm in reply.

The two began crossing the long bridge, known as the Tower Bridge to the locals. It crossed the river Thames, the murky waters below shining dully in the early morning light. The two ends of the bridge rose up high, giving it a very fine, grandiose kind of feel. It had only recently been finished, so there were quite a few people even this early in the morning just looking off the edges or buying things from the smartly-placed vendors on either side. Both professor and apprentice had to grasp their respective hats to keep the chilly breeze from catching the brims and lifting them off as they crossed the structure.

It was almost amusing, how much of a difference there was between the northern and southern sides of the city. The buildings instantly got bigger, the homes fancier, the streets somewhat cleaner. One could not blame Luke for preferring this side to the one he actually lived on. Crossing the first street they came to, the near-inseparable duo headed down the next few blocks, aiming to stop in at Layton's home so they could enjoy Rosa's fabulous cooking and the professor could get some things done before heading off to the university to teach that day's class.

As they rounded the corner that would take them to their destination, Luke collided with someone turning the opposite direction with a muffled BUMPH. Layton caught the boy just in time, preventing a fall on his backside, and the two simultaneously offered their condolences. "Dreadfully sorry..." Luke mumbled, not sure who exactly he'd rammed into.

The person they'd bumped into, however, merely laughed and shook his head like a good sport. "Oh, you two are fine," Clive dusted his front off before grinning at Luke forgivingly. "I wasn't payin' attention; was in too much of a hurry, trying to deliver all these papers!"

As Luke regained his own footing and beamed up at Clive in return, Layton smiled at him. "Is that so? Admirable work ethic, Clive, if a bit hazardous."

Clive's expression turned rather sheepish. "Of course. I promise not to run into anyone else today, alright?" he swore, raising a hand into the air jovially. "But speakin' of papers, I just dropped yours off with the lovely Rosa. Apologies. If I had known we were destined to bump into one another I'd have given it to you now."

Layton waved the sentiment off. "I don't expect you to see the future, my boy! Thank you very much for the sharp delivery," he spoke genially, tipping his hat to the young man.

Clive did the same with his blue paperboy's hat, beginning to walk past them. "Not a problem, Mr. Layton. See you tomorrow. And goodbye Luke!" he waved before disappearing around the bricks.

"Bye Clive!" Luke managed to send him off with before turning back to the professor. "I like Clive. He's real nice, Professor."

Layton nodded in agreement, having begun to proceed. "Yes, quite. He's a very intelligent young man as well, capable of great things, I'm sure. It's a shame he's not in school, refining that unused talent and making use of it..."

By the time they reached Layton's abode, the smells of eggs and bacon and freshly-baked bread were very much in the air. Luke was practically drooling as Layton unlocked the door. The professor was just as hungry, mind you, but a true gentleman always retains an air of formality.

When the door opened and Luke nearly ran inside despite Layton's urging not to, food was revealed to be already on the table: three plates with heaping amounts of egg and bacon with a loaf of bread each, complete with two glasses of orange juice and, of course, a cup of piping hot tea. Rosa, who sat at her place at the table with a napkin in one hand and fork in the other, giggled at their expressions. "Why, you two look as though you haven't eaten in weeks," she observed playfully, taking a placid sip of her juice.

Luke was by her side in a flash, hugging her enough to squeeze out any and all air. "Oh Rosa, you're like the mum I lost! Thank you so much for all the delicious food!" the boy cried, genuinely grateful.

Rosa looked startled for a moment, but relaxed when Luke let her go a few seconds later. "Oh, lad, you know it's not a problem," she assured, though Luke was already sitting at his place, cutting away at his eggs by the time she said it.

Layton just shook his head with a smile. "It certainly does smell delicious, Rosa. I thank you as well," he said graciously as he also sat down, rolling his brown sleeves up just a tad.

The woman shook her head. "It's more or less my job, Professor," she said with a smile as Luke began to ravenously stuff his mouth full of egg and bacon at the same time. She took another bite of her cooking, handing the man a stack of papers. "The newspaper. Clive just dropped it by not five minutes ago."

He laughed. "Ah, yes. Thank you, Rosa." Practiced fingers held the paper as he skimmed it, flipping through it like he was looking for something. A few moment later he returned to it's front. "Hmm. Looks like there's nothing of utmost importance today...it's rather quiet."

Rosa wiped her mouth with her napkin, smiling almost wearily. "And by utmost importance you mean witchcraft, no?"

This caused Luke to stop shoveling food into his mouth. He swallowed what he had and leaned forward a little. "What? So there's nothing in the papers about any other fires or anything?"

Layton shook his head. "Not at all. The cover story is about a burglary that happened over in Kensington Estates, but the man was captured and will be sentenced tomorrow." He took a sip of his tea, enjoying that sensation of warmth running down his throat and throughout his body. "Quite curious."

Luke laughed, looking pleased with himself. "Hahah! Well, you sure showed him, didn't you? That Paolo guy never even had a chance!"

Layton did not smile, instead turning his attention back to the paper pensively. It certainly did seem positive, the lack of an attack or fire, but Layton was almost certain that this would not be the end of Don Paolo's fiery schemes.

As he always is, Professor Layton was right.

-asdfjkl;-

"C'mon, Professor! Please?"

Layton couldn't help but smile at his self-proclaimed apprentice's whine, closing the book he had been reading and giving the boy his full attention. "Don't you always have a puzzle book with you, dear boy?"

Luke frowned, looking away for a moment. "I do...but I finished it last night, and I forgot to get a new one!" He turned his gaze back to the hatted man in front of him. "Please, Professor! Give me a puzzle, just to warm my brain up with!"

Rosa paused her dusting of the vases on a side table a little ways behind them, giggling at Luke good-naturedly. "Why, Professor, is Luke going to have withdrawals if he doesn't solve so many puzzles in a day?"

The blue-clad boy shot her a reproachful glance. "Rosa, it's not funny! Please, Professor?"

Layton gave him an almost exasperated sigh. "Yes, yes, of course," he relented, fingers intertwining with each other on top of his now-abandoned tome. "But only one. And no hints, understand?"

Luke nodded fervently. "Yes, sir!"

The professor leaned back into the chair. "Alright then, here goes: The beginning of eternity, the end of time and space; the beginning of every end, and the end of every place. What am I?"

Luke stared at the professor for a moment. "Could you repeat that, please?"

So Layton did. Luke became pensive, searching the entirety of his brain for something that fit that description. Watching the boy puzzle things out was rather amusing, what with the way he looked so serious and determined, staring down at his hands and thinking furiously. The riddle had to be repeated quite a few more times before Luke finally became frustrated.

"I don't know, Professor," the boy said honestly, stumped. "That's too cryptic."

Layton tapped his forehead, smiling. "I'm sure if this was a question in your book you wouldn't be having too much trouble with it," he vaguely hinted, though he had strictly forbid such help not ten minutes prior.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Layton shrugged nonchalantly. "Take it with a grain of salt."

Luke still looked confused, but he said no more, now puzzling over what the professor had just said. It wasn't until Layton reopened his book and began to read silently again did he understand. "Oh, I see! You're saying that if I could read it, it'd be easier," he deducted, immediately rifling through his bag to pull out a notebook and a pen. After writing out the riddle in neat enough handwriting, he read it over and over. It only took him a few minutes from there.

A sudden gasp of realization brought Layton's attention away from the text. "Oh, of course!" The brown-clad man glanced down at his pseudo-apprentice's notebook, which read as follows:

The beginning of Eternity, the end of timE and spacE; the beginning of every End, and the end of every placE.

Luke was grinning despite himself. "It's the letter E, isn't it?"

Layton laughed heartily. "It is indeed! Well done, dear boy."

Luke laughed too. "An' now I feel awake and ready for the day!"

Rosa, who was now washing dishes, giggled along with them. "After you've been up for two hours, ay?"

"I'm telling you, it was because I didn't have any puzzles!"

At that moment, there were a few rapid knocks on the front door, signaling company. The professor stood up to answer while Luke stuffed his things back into his sack. "Anyway, Rosa, d'you want any help with the dishes? I could dry them."

Rosa gave the boy a heartfelt smile. "Thank you very much for the offer, deary, but I can do it."

The door could be heard opening. A few seconds later, one could hear the almost startled greeting; "Clive?"

Luke lit up. "It's Clive?" he stood up and power-walked to the door where his mentor stood chatting it up with the neighborhood paperboy. "Hello, Cli—" he started before cutting himself off with a gasp. The young man standing before them was indeed Clive, but he looked worse for wear, clothes noticeably frayed and tattered in places and a couple of burns on his arms and cheek. "C-Clive? What happened to you?"

Clive smiled down at Luke, wincing as the expression caused his burn to...burn. "Oh, nothin' much," he waved it off, turning back to Layton, who also looked incredulous. "Just got a bit held up. Sorry I'm late, Mr. Layton," he lamented, handing the man his paper.

Layton took the paper gingerly, glancing down at the paper's headline. He wasn't too surprised at what he found. "Clive," he began, holding the paper towards him and pointing toward said headline, "your injuries wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this, would they?" The boldly-printed headline consisted of four words: Local Orphanage Set Ablaze.

Clive's face fell. "Well, I..." he trailed off, gaze lowering slightly. "Yes, Mr, Layton."

Layton nodded, as if he had already known this. "I see. Do you think you could escort me to the site of this fire? That is, if you're all finished with your paper route."

Clive smiled a little. "I chose your house to deliver to last today. Yeah, I can take you," he agreed, closing the satchel of newspapers he still carried.

As the two began walking, Luke closed the door behind them rather loudly and raced after them. "Hey! Wait for me!"

Layton kept his eyes on Clive's back as the walked down the street. "You say you chose my house as the last delivery today," he repeated for good measure. "Why?"

Clive's expression was unreadable from where he stood, but Layton could hear the sheepish smile in his voice. "Because I knew you would make that deduction as soon as you saw me."

"And it is the correct assumption, yes?"

Clive nodded his head as they turned the next corner, the same corner on which they'd bumped into one another the day before.

Layton was tempted to cross his arms as he came up to Clive's left side, walking at the same pace now with Luke tagging along behind almost unnoticed. "I don't see how that would be a bad thing, unless of course you have something to hide."

Clive's expression turned dark. "I promise you, Professor, I have nothing to do with this," he insisted, looking at the man beside him seriously.

"I never said you did, my boy," Layton went on, proceeding to read the newspaper in his hands. Luke peeked through the gap between the two taller males and gasped for the third time that morning. "An orphanage on fire? Oh my gosh!" the boy exclaimed, leaning in to get a better look. "Clive, you were there?"

Clive's expression softened. "Yeah."

As they crossed the street, Layton asked a question of his own. "What did you see?"

Clive snorted, though it wasn't meant for the professor. "I didn't see anythin'," he corrected, arms going limp by his sides. "The newsprint place is just across the street from the orphanage. I heard screaming, and I smelled fire, so I ran outside early this mornin' to see what was wrong. The whole building was on fire. It was...it was horrible. There was a little girl, just inside the place, crying and pleadin' for help. I couldn't just sit there and watch her die, so I ran inside and dragged her out before the fire completely engulfed the place." His fists balled up beside him. "Then the Yard got there and started questionin' me and the few other people that had gathered around it. They kept me there for hours."

Luke looked at Clive's back with wide eyes. "That's terrible," he mumbled, not sure of what else to say.

Layton handed the paper back to Luke to put in his bag, but the boy merely ban to read the article for himself. "What kind of motivation would Don Paolo have for burning an orphanage?" the man wondered aloud, unable to come up with much more than vague shots in the dark.

Clive grunted. "I don't know, but he needs t'go to hell. So many innocent people..." He shook his head. "I was raised at that orphanage when my parents died. I can't believe that it's...gone."

Luke didn't look up from the paper he read. "It was burned that badly?"

Clive suddenly slowed, having turned around one last corner. "See for yourself."

So Luke looked up, and gasped yet again. The once impressive building had been reduced to little more than a huge pile of rubble with only the bare skeleton of the structure remaining intact and clearly visible (though it was charred). It looked like as dreary of a scene as the Allen household's ruins had, though it was made worse by the little playground lying just beside where the building once stood, some of the wooden equipment visibly burned. There were quite a few officers of the Yard still at the scene, including two very familiar inspectors.

"Dropstone Orphanage," Layton half asked, half stated, expression carefully calculated.

"The one and only," Clive affirmed, pocketing his hands. "I hope you don't mind my tagging along, Professor, but I'd like to see if they've figured anything out yet."

"But of course," Layton consented, and the trio headed closer. There were a few people loitering a good ways away from the site itself, murmuring and lamenting the tragedy.

The closer they got, the more profound the smell became. Luke put a hand over his lower face, expression almost horrified. "Professor," he began, looking up at his mentor hesitantly. "Is this...the smell of b-burnt flesh?"

Layton's nose was ever so slightly wrinkled as well. "Yes, Luke." A pause. "You can stay back there if you need to."

The shortest of the three shook his head with a determined kind of look. "It's alright...I'm fine."

Before the could get too close to the wreckage, however, they were intercepted by who else but Inspectors Chelmey and Grosky, neither looking too pleased with the current state of events. Barton waddled up behind them, ever the righthand man.

Grosky was the first to speak. "Good morning, gents. Rather, hello. It hasn't been much of a good morning."

Chelmey wasn't so nice, however, jumping to the point. "Layton? Fancy seeing you 'ere." His tone was sarcastic enough. "And what about you, Dove? What're you doing back 'ere?"

Clive looked at him with an indifferent stare. "I was just wondering if you lot had made any shocking new discoveries," he replied flatly.

Chelmey gave him a rather menacing look before turning his attention back to Layton. "Well, for your information, we 'aven't." He sighed heavily. "It's a bloody miracle if you can find anything at all after these damn fires!" He faltered when he realized Luke was standing right behind Layton and coughed. "Er, sorry. The subordinates 'ave been looking around for hours. And it doesn't 'elp that we don't 'ave but one survivor, that survivor bein' a small child that won't stop her cryin'."

"We know it was Don Paolo again, right?" Luke asked, looking at Grosky.

Grosky rubbed the back of his neck, which usually wasn't too good of a sign. "Well, like Chelmey said, the only survivor or firsthand witness is that little girl. Though it's most likely the case, we still aren't completely sure."

Luke oh'd and Layton hmm'd. "Inspector," the latter began after a sufficient pause, "do you think it would be alright if I took a quick peek around?"

Chelmey regarded him with a look of resignation. "If you feel like you need to. But all you're going to find is ashes and bodies."

Layton tipped his hat in wordless thanks, and they began to close in on the place, but when Luke tried to follow them, Grosky put a halting hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should sit this one out, lad," he suggested as gently as he could, voice still gruff regardless.

Luke tried to wriggle out of his hold. "Don't worry about me, Inspector Grosky, I'm fine," he insisted even as Grosky refused to let him go. "I can handle it!"

Layton paused and turned to face his young friend. "Listen to him, Luke," he spoke with authority, unwilling to budge on such a matter.

Luke pouted, but ceased struggling. "But Professor..."

Said man smiled. "Perhaps you could aid Inspector Grosky here in conversing with that little girl?" he suggested, knowing that Luke wouldn't be able to resist doing something that might potentially help the case somehow.

Luke's expression turned from put out to thoughtful. "Well, I suppose I could try," he adjusted his blue cap and turned toward Grosky, who sent Layton a silent look of thanks. Layton smiled in return and resumed his trek to the heart of the fire.

As they walked, the professor exhaled a bit more forcefully than normal. "Terribly sorry about all this, Clive," he offered to the young man next to him, who was uncharacteristically quiet. "It must be hard, losing your childhood home like this."

Clive merely chuckled. "Thank you, Professor. It is, in a way...but you shouldn't be saying sorry. It wasn't your fault."

Layton cracked a smile, folding his arms over one another. "One doesn't have to have committed the wrong to offer their condolences," he pointed out expertly, returning his gaze to the front.

Clive chuckled again. "Guess you're right," he admitted soundly.

Getting so close wasn't exactly one of the best courses of action. Chelmey had not been exaggerating when he'd described what they'd find; upon closer inspection all one could see was ash and bodies laying under said ash, along with the battered remains of furniture and the like. The smell so close was overwhelming; both paperboy and esteemed gentleman held hat and cloth respectively to their faces, trying to filter out the desolate stench. The two stared at the rubble in awestruck fascination despite themselves, amazed at such destruction. The whole thing was very reminiscent of a horror/mystery novel.

A path into the once-building had been cleared enough to allow relatively easy entry. Taking this path, the professor let his practiced eyes scan the area, taking in as much as he could, trying desperately to find something, anything that might help them find the perpetrator of this dastardly deed. This haphazard destruction could not go on.

He stopped suddenly when his foot came into contact with something abruptly, sending it skidding across the ground to hit a beam on the opposite side of the room rather loudly. Clive bumped into him gently, mumbling a small sorry to him as they both looked at the item curiously. It was a little ceramic figurine, a doll of sorts that had somehow managed to survive the fire well enough to be okay. Layton's eyes widened in realization. Innocent children were dead, murdered, burned alive, presumably on purpose. The though hit him hard, penetrating his usually distanced perspective and causing his train of logical thought to falter, if only for a moment. This is...completely and utterly unforgivable.

He felt Clive take a sudden step back behind him. "Professor, I h-have to go," he said, his voice shaky, as if he'd just had the same epiphany. "It's too much."

Layton readjusted his hat. "Of course," he turned to face him, also ready to take his leave. The smell was beginning to make him sick even through his small brown handkerchief.

"So many kids..." Clive thought aloud, face contorted in remorse as they meandered back the way they'd come. Layton understood his feeling all too well.

"This is too big of a fatality to be merely accidental," the professor responded indirectly, unsure of how exactly to comfort his accompaniment.

As they were making their way back to where the inspectors stood, however, they saw a blue-clad boy running toward them despite Grosky's insistence on staying. Before Layton could begin to reprimand him, however, Luke stopped, breathing hard and eyes wide in alarm.

"Professor! The girl! She knows! She saw Don Paolo!"

—e—n—d—c—h—a—p—t—e—r—

A/N: And she finally updates! It's okay though, because no one was really looking forward to it anyway. I apologize anyway. I kinda lost the Layton spirit, but my recent PL4 (Last Specter) playthrough has reignited the flame, baby!

Kind of a lame cliffhanger. Nweheheh. I hinted to a future cameo somewhere in here. Can you see where and guess who? xD it's extremely vague though.

That's about it. Leave a review telling me whatcha liked, didn't like, things I can improve on, etc. etc. They really do help me lots!

See yah later~ C: