A/N: Inspired by a picture of Luke and Layton on Tumblr (which I can't find again for the life of me), and written in a different style than my usual.

"So I got my new reading glasses-which you'll see in a second, professor-and the ophthalmologist...that's how you say it right?"

"Correct, my boy."

"He told me I had to wear them for 24 hours to get used to them, so while I'm doing that I decided to come show you! Oh, and while we were out shopping afterwards mum saw this scarf thingy, a...I'll think of the name later. Anyway, she thought it would suit me so I'm wearing that as well. I dunno, I guess it's alright. Go ahead and open your eyes, professor!"

Layton chuckles at his apprentice's eager voice and begins to slowly takes his hands away from his eyes. "Oho, my boy, I—" and that is all he manages to get out.

It's funny how little things can make us remember so much. For example, a broken window can remind Layton of about 50 different puzzles and at least one person who could repair the damage. But this is too much. He isn't just remembering a puzzle or repair man or anything simple at all. What he's remembering is haunting.

He hasn't thought of it in a long time, but now it's hitting him over the head like a sledgehammer. All it takes is a glimpse of Luke: the scarf tied in the back, his new reading glasses lopsided ever so slightly. It reminds him of someone else, someone he knew long ago...

He tries to smile. He keeps telling himself he should smile to let Luke know that the concern now spreading across his face is not needed. His eye twitches as he tries to relax his face and ease his mouth into a smile. Smiling is simple. So simple. Why isn't it simple now?

"Professor?"

Luke doesn't sound like Luke. Luke sounds like him. How is Luke's voice even managing to imitate the energy, the confidence, the curiosity that was unique to his voice? Luke is just a child. Then again he was a child as well when he met his fate...

Dammit. Hershel clenches his jaw, all hopes of relaxation thrown aside. He needs to get a grip. He will make himself mad if he continues like this. Dammit. He isn't one to curse, but something about the sharp diction of the "t" makes it a useful method for relaxation, so he indulges just this once.

"Professor Layton?"

That's Luke, not him. Luke is standing here safe and sound, not in any danger, not at risk on an adventure at this moment. Luke is here and your responsibility, so you better shape up. You have a tendency to hurt the people you're responsible for. Don't want to make that a recurring thing do you? Imagine: something happens to Luke and you'll have to be the bearer of bad news again. Wonder what Brenda and Clark's faces will look like. Wonder if they'll be able to beat the reactions of-

Layton bites down on his tongue and draws blood. It hurts, but at least it interrupts that taunting voice. It's right. He always disappoints the people who count on him.

"I remembered the name of the scarf..." Luke tries to create a normal conversation to distract his mentor. He is scared. He has never seen the man shivering and tense like this.

Layton feels sweat form where his hairline meets the brim of his hat, feels himself suffocating. He manages to gasp something just as Luke offeres up the name he wasn't able to conjure before. The voices meet and the word rings out clear and crisp. It seems suspended for a long moment, and then falls just like the boy who had once owned it.

"Ascot."

A/N: ...I'm going to go in the corner and think about what I've just done.

-Lizz