Flashbacks

Note: I do not own the rights to these characters. All characters property of Level 5. Some minor Mystery Room spoilers.

The day started out quite wet. Torrential almost. The forecast said it was going to pour all day, but a little rain could hardly stop Professor Hershel Layton from presenting his archeology lecture today. He sipped his tea as he stared out the window. He found himself absentmindedly betting on which streak of rain water would make it to the bottom of the pane first. It was a game that he and his son used to play many years back. The Professor smiled, as he let himself become engulfed in the happy memories.

"Papa!" a small voice piped up from the window. "You said we were going to the park today, but it's raining!" Little Alfendi Layton wriggled his way onto his father's lap. His eyes, reflecting disappointment, peered out from beneath his unruly wavy hair.

"Now son, I have no control over the weather." Hershel said with a small tip of his top hat. "However I believe we can find a few adventures around this house." He smiled at the small boy. Alfendi practically leapt off of his father and ran to gather a few toys. Hershel used this time to push the two armchairs together and drape a quilt over it. After all, every adventurer needs his base camp.

When Alfendi returned to the living room, he was sporting his favorite cowboy hat and had his teddy tied up with his scarf as if it was some sort of damsel in distress. He was in such a rush to play in the tent his father set up for him he didn't notice the tail end of the scarf become entangled with his legs. There was a loud thud as Alfendi hit the ground, followed by a second thud as Hershel dropped the book he had in his hands as he rushed to help his child up.

"Papa, I have an ouchie." Alfendi sobbed as he showed his father the small cut that he acquired from his slip. "Can you make it feel better?" The tot asked.

"Oh Alfendi," the gentleman said affectionately, "You'll be fine. You are my brave, strong boy, right?" Hershel wiped the tears off his son's face as Al nodded reluctantly. "Of course you are my son, the strongest and the bravest!" He picked the child up and hugged him tight.

It was the telephone that abruptly snapped Hershel out of his happy daydream. He put down his teacup and stood to answer it.

"Hello, Professor Layton speaking." He said out of routine

"Professor, it is Commissioner Barton. Alfendi's been shot, he's being transported to the hospital as we speak. I'm sending an officer to escort you there. Professor? Professor are you still on the line?" It was no use. Hershel had dropped the receiver and darted out of his office.

He sunk into the seat of the Laytonmobile. His hands were shaking, and his face was wet. The saltiness was all he had to differentiate between his tears and the pouring rain from outside. The last time he had received a call like this, he lost someone he loved, and he had no idea if his heart could take such pain again. "Calm down Hershel, your son needs you, now focus!" He managed to regain his composure and threw the car in drive.

Traffic was not in his favor today. Every red light seemed to last an eternity, everybody else appeared to be driving like snails. After what felt like a lifetime, Hershel pulled into the hospital parking lot. "I'm coming Alfendi, Papa's on his way." He reaffirmed to himself. He ran through the front door and was met by Commissioner Barton. The commissioner had blood stained on his uniform.

"What happened?" Hershel asked in a shaky tone that sounded almost foreign compared to his usual gentlemanly timbre.

The commissioner sighed, it was obvious that he was still shaken up over the whole affair. "Alfendi cornered an accused murderer at Forbodium Castle, there was a crossfire and he was struck in the chest. The doctors say that he has lost a lot of blood, but they've managed to stop the bleeding. He's going in for surgery, there's nothing we can do but wait."

A few hours later, Hershel followed the nurse into the brightly lit room and sat down in the chair next to his son's bed. There were monitors and tubes everywhere, and the constant beep of the EKG to reassure him that his son's heart was still beating. Hershel gently pushed Al's hair away from his face and clasped his hand tightly.

"Alfendi, you'll make it through this." He fought the lump forming at the back of his throat. "You'll be fine, you're still my brave, strong boy, and I'll always love you."