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It had been several years since the Future London incident, and several more since that of the Azran Legacy. Jean Descole, or rather Desmond Sycamore, had gotten back into archeology as a professor at Gressenheller university. It was tough on him, the guilt of all he had done while wearing that darned White mask, but nobody else knew it was him. Nobody except his brother and those assistants of his. Desmond sighed as he got up from the desk at his office, getting ready to go home. He looked around, deep in thought.
"Master, are you feeling alright?" It was Raymond, Desmond's loyal assistant and longest living friend.
"I'm quite fine, thank you very much," Desmond replied hastily. "I just don't think I'll ever get over what happened all those years ago, especially with that thing still around."
He was of course referring to the white mask, the biggest part of his alter ego. Without it, the other Professor would have recognized him in an instant. Desmond flinched, remembering that day he revealed himself to Layton. Descole had died that day, in more ways than one. He could not bear to think about it.
"I suppose it is time to leave," Desmond said to no-one in particular.
"Yes, master. It is getting late. I will take your bags."
After Raymond left, Desmond was by himself. He looked at his notes, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn't.
"How does that Layton manage to solve everything so easily," he said, slamming his hand onto the table.
"He doesn't," a voice says from the open doorway. The door wasn't open the whole time, was it? No, Raymond closed it on his way out. It must've been unlocked. But who just spoke?
"Who are you," Desmond said in a lower voice than normal, then instantly realized what he had done. Still staring down at his notes, He tried again. and in a more steady, sycamore-like way, he stated "I would like to know the identity of whatever student just broke into my office. I am a professor after all."
"My name is Charity. I know you are a professor. You may find, however, that I am not a student."
At that last sentence, Desmond turned around. "Why are you here?"
"The other Professor told me about you, Mr. Sycamore." Desmond cast her a quizzical look before the lady said "Professor Layton, I mean."
"What is your relation to Professor Layton," Desmond asked, now quite curious about this whole affair.
"Umm... It's complicated," the woman replied without answering. "However, there are some things he has told me about you-"
"Listen here, Charity," Desmond interrupted with an almost growl. "Whatever he may or may not have told you is none of your concern. I don't need help from his little 'friends' anymore. I'm a Professor, not a child."
"Sir he told me you needed-"
"I don't need your help, little lady," Desmond interrupted again with a voice more akin to Descole's. not even bothering to correct his tone, he stood up and started walking out his office. "If you'll excuse me, my butler is waiting for me."
And with that, Desmond was off, leaving poor charity behind.
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"I take it the meeting didn't go too well?" The Professor asked, pouring a cup of tea for Charity.
"No," She answered truthfully. "He seemed... worried about something."
It was around nine in the evening, and Charity was sitting at the table in Professor Layton's house's dining room. Layton had generously let her stay overnight as a guest, as he had an empty guest room and Charity had no true place to stay.
"Well, he is still concerned about those events that happened around 6 years ago. Don't let his bluntness get to you."
"You are kind, Professor-" Charity had started, but Layton cut her off.
"You can call me Hershel. We've gotten past the point where we must speak to each other in formalities."
Charity laughed. "I suppose, Hershel. I just don't understand why you are being so kind to me. You barely even know me!"
"Well isn't it obvious?" Layton answered with a chuckle. "Helping a lady through her trouble is the duty of a true gentleman."
"I suppose so," Charity replied. She sat at the table, not touching the tea. She was too deep in thought.
"Hershel, might I ask you a few things?"
"Of course dear," Layton answered, taken aback by the suddenness of her words.
"Ok first thing," Charity said, "please don't call me dear. Nothing against you, it just feels weird. Second, I understand you and Desmond are related in some way. Why is it that whenever you pass each other in the halls, it's as if you don't know each other? What is it exactly about a mask that seems to unsettle him so much?"
Layton paused for a moment, thinking how best to answer.
"We..." Layton started, but then decided to say the truth. "When we pass by each other, or come into contact with one another, it was at Desmond's request that we don't act like siblings. There are many things that Desmond does not wish to recall, and I respect his wishes. As for the mask, it is not my story to tell. I believe he fears what he once was, yet is unable to alleviate his feelings of guilt and responsibility for what he had done."
Charity took a moment to think about what she had learned, and then stood up.
"Thank you for your generosity, Hershel," She said, moving towards the guest room. "I must go to bed. I am extremely tired."
The Professor wished her a good night, and Charity got into bed. Sleep would be a long time coming for her that night...
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Desmond couldn't sleep. His mind was stuck on the thought of the lady who had come into his office. She had apparently been sent by the Professor. Why Layton was trying to interfere with Desmond's life, using a woman no less, he had no idea.
Screw it, he thought to himself as he got out of bed. He looked through his things before finding the familiar feathered boa he would wear as Descole. He held it in his hands, feeling the soft texture of the feathers. He was just about to put it away again, when he was startled by a knock at the door. He dropped the boa and quickly went to the door.
"It's 11 pm and I'm trying to sleep!" Desmond said, opening the door. "Who is it this time?"
"My apologies Desmond, I didn't know you still slept wearing your feather boa." It was Layton.
"How did you know I-" but he looked down and realized he had tiny feather pieces all over his top. "Ah. So I see. Why are you here, Layton? Come to remind me of my failures in the past?"
"Now now Desmond," the other Professor said, "is that any way to treat family?"
"Fine," Desmond said, reluctantly, letting his brother inside.
"For all your talk of moving on from your past, you are acting more like Jean than Desmond."
"Always with the uncomfortable truths, Eh Layton?" But there was no bitterness in his voice. He knew he was slipping into old habits again. It wouldn't be long, he thought, before he would be putting on his mask and trying to kill the other Professor again. That thought sent a shiver down his spine.
"It is unlike you to leave a question unanswered. Why are you here so late at night?"
"Well, I wanted to know what happened today. With Charity."
"I knew you were behind this," Desmond growled. "I mean, she did literally tell me, so I knew."
"Honestly, Desmond," Layton said, sitting down on a chair not far from the door. "You act as if you don't need help, but you know you do."
"If you are referring to the time I used you to get to the Azran-"
"What I am referring to," the other Professor interrupted, "is you, right now. I want to help you. You clearly need it."
"Ah, so I need help now, is that what you are saying?" Desmond knew he was going too far, but he didn't care.
"I'm saying it could help to have someone else there for you!"
"Oh that's it, is it?" Desmond was enraged. "You believe I can't handle myself? I have someone else too, you know!"
"I know you have Raymond, but you could benefit from someone else's company!"
"If you want to fight about it, I'm all for a good duel." Desmond grabbed one of the swords hanging on the wall. He originally had them there in case of intruders, but he supposed he could use them on family members.
"I do not wish to duel, and even if I did, I would still win." Layton was correct. Desmond had lost every time he dueled his brother.
"I see that the future London incident has softened you, Layton. You clearly think that just because your girlfriend died, you know my pain. I laugh, Professor. I. LAUGH." He swung his sword at Layton with a laugh. "I see your reflexes are still up to scratch."
"YOU KEEP CLAIRE OUT OF THIS!" Layton yelled. This startled Desmond, as The other Professor rarely yelled. "You say all sorts about trying to forget your past and make amends, but when others try to help, you go back to your old ways!"
"As if you have any idea of what you are talking about!" Desmond lunged towards the Professor, trying to pin him to the ground.
"So," Layton said, fighting back, "Are you Sycamore, or are you Descole?"
"Ah!" Desmond gasped, suddenly being brought back to earth by that question. He wanted to be Desmond. He wanted to leave his past behind and move on to his future. He was putting all of his progress in jeopardy by fighting Layton. He set the sword down, and fell to his knees.
"Listen Desco- I mean Desmond," The other Professor said, kneeling down to lock eyes with Desmond, "I know you've lost so much. I know you've tried your hardest to forget. I know you think that Raymond is the only other thing in your life you need. I know. I am just looking out for you, because that's what a gentleman does. Charity wants to get to know you, and you seem as if you need someone in your life to talk to that isn't Raymond. Now," The other Professor stood up and started walking towards the door, "I will be on my way. It is late, after all."
As Layton was about to leave, Desmond reached his hand out. "Wait, Layton."
But Layton had left.
How unusual for him to just leave. Descole made sure the door was locked, then went back to his room. On the bed, he saw his feather boa. He picked it up and held it close to his body as he went off to sleep. A reminder of his past, and a promise for the future.
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"Good morning Charity," Layton greeted the woman as she walked into the dining room. "I hope you slept well."
"As well as I could, what with everything going on." She sat down and realized there was food set out for her, and someone else. "Who else is here?"
"Oh, that would be my assistant, flora," Layton responded.
"Talk of the devil," Charity said, as she noticed a younger girl walk into the room. "You must be flora?"
"Devil?" The girl questioned, somewhat offended.
"It's just a saying, don't worry."
"Hello flora," the Professor said to his assistant. "This is Charity. She's... an acquaintance of mine. Charity, meet Flora. She's my assistant."
"Nice to meet you, flora." Charity couldn't help but adore the lady's cute dress. "Where did you get that dress? It looks beautiful."
"Oh... my... mom...made...it..." Flora said, her voice going softer each word.
"Well it suits you!"
"Th-thank you..."
"Flora can be shy around newcomers, though usually she's fine with them..." Layton explained to Charity.
"Well usually the stranger is male. She on the other hand, clearly isn't." Flora's tone had changed in an instant.
"Oh? Why does that make a difference? Are you afraid I'm trying to steal the Professor from you with my elegance and charm," Charity joked.
Flora laughed. "I'm not sure you have either, to be honest."
Charity feigned offense. "ExCuSe Me?" She said, then laughed.
"Honestly you two, please calm down and eat."
They ate breakfast and talked puzzles. When they were finished, Layton met Charity's eyes.
"Charity, it's about time you met Desmond." The Professor handed Charity an envelope. "In there are the directions to the meeting place. Can you drive?"
"Yes. I drove here to London, didn't I?"
"I'll drop you off at your car. It's around gressenheller, is it not?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Alright. When you are ready, we have errands to do, so I'll take you."
"I'm ready now, actually."
"Ah, good. Let's go then. Come on, flora."
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When Charity arrived at her destination, She double checked her purse to make sure she had the essentials for safety in case something bad happened. She did. She had promised to call Layton later that day so as to make sure she was safe. With a deep breath, she walked up to the door, and knocked.
To her surprise, an old man answered. "Welcome to the Sycamore Residence. How may I be of service?"
"Um... I was told Desmond was here." Charity had no idea what to say other than that. The old man nodded, and invited Charity inside.
The house was beautiful and ornate, as expected from a rich man. The walls had strange decorations, like two swords hanging next to an odd mask. Charity didn't doubt that the swords were real, and didn't dare check. The couch, which she sat on, was comfortable and soft, with a tiny bit of a springy feel to it. It took a lot of self control to not bounce up and down on it. The old man had left, presumably to get the master of the house.
Charity had no idea how Desmond managed to get this place, and was just about to lay down when she heard Desmond come down the stairs and into the room.
"Hello there, Charity," the man said. He looked like he had just woken up. Charity suspected he probably did, as it was barely 8 in the morning. She giggled, imagining him with bed hair.
"What is so funny?" The man asked sternly.
"Oh, Ummm... nothing..." Charity could've sworn she saw Desmond's face redden a bit.
"Layton told me that you wished to, as he put it, 'get to know me,'" Desmond stated. "And as much as I prefer working alone, he managed to convince me to let you come here."
Charity listened attentively, seeing Desmond's face get a small but redder.
"So I suppose you do need a place to stay, and I guess it will be here." Desmond's cheeks were now clearly red, but the Professor continued as if nothing was different. "Why he chose now to interfere with my life, I have no idea. Regardless, I suppose I could use a bit of company." Desmond's face then turned redder than a strawberry, and Charity couldn't help but giggle.
"What is it?" Desmond growled, face growing redder still.
"You seem a bit... flustered, Professor." Charity giggled more at the look of incredulity on Desmond's face. "How long has it been since you've had anyone of the opposite sex in your house?"
Desmond, clearly enraged, did not answer. Instead, he motioned at the swords hanging on the wall.
"These things are real, you know." Desmond examined one. "It would be a shame if-"
"-the police found out you almost threatened me, yes" Charity finished the sentence her own way. "You could learn a thing or two about solicitude from your brother, Professor."
Desmond growled. He took a deep breath, then stated "Please don't call me Professor. Call me Desmond."
"Alright then Des." Charity giggled at Desmond's abashed face. "What, don't like Des? What about Mon?"
"Des... is fine..." Desmond replied begrudgingly.
"Ok then! So, what do we do next, Des?"
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Desmond couldn't believe it. Here she was, the person Layton wanted ever so much for him to meet, and she immediately started picking on him. It's gonna be reaaaaal hard to keep my past from this lady Desmond thought.
"Where we start," He said, trying to ignore the giggles coming from the woman he was now forced to live with, "is a proper introduction. My name, as you may know, is Desc- Desmond Sycamore. The older man is my butler, Raymond. Now, I am aware of your first name, but I don't know your last. Could you please enlighten me with that knowledge?"
Charity laughed. "You sound so much like a professor when you talk like that. Oh look, I made you blush. Anyways, my name is Charity Layne, yes I know it sounds like the name of a street, but whatever. I became acquainted with Hershel when I visited gressesheller."
"Now that we know each other's names, let's just go over some ground rules. First, call me Desmond. Second, don't touch the artifacts, they are irreplaceable. Third, don't go through my stuff. Fourth, knock before entering my room, for obvious reasons." He heard Charity snicker, and could only assume his face was redder than ever. "Fifth, when I'm gone for work, please don't burn the house down."
"That's all?" Charity asked, looking quizzical.
"If more ideas come up, I'll tell you." He let out a sigh. Will company really be worth all this hassle?
"Well if I am to stay here," Charity started, standing up, "I'll go get my things. Where exactly am I sleeping? Do you have a guest room?"
Shit, I forgot about sleep, thought Desmond. "Umm... I think so..." Charity went out to get her things, and Desmond called for his friend. "Raymond?"
The old butler Raymond walked into the room. "Yes, master?"
"We do have a guest room, right" he whispered into the butler's ear.
"We do, but it's full of antiques and things from your travels, master." Raymond whispered back.
The realization hit Desmond like a truck. Well I can't back away now because that would be awkward... but would it be more awkward to explain that he would have to share a bed with someone he barely knew because he can't put his crap away? Probably. "Why did I agree to this," he said to himself as Charity came inside again.
"Because you're lonely, Des." Charity was somehow managing to carry 5 bags of... stuff. Desmond had no idea what she'd packed. "I mean, you probably haven't actually made a new friend since Luke or Emmy, and that would've been years ago."
"I can still go back on my agreement, miss," Desmond said.
"But you won't, because you're lonely." Charity set her things down, then met Desmond's eyes again. "Where should I take this stuff?"
"Allow me," said Raymond,picking up 2 bags and gesturing at Charity to follow. Desmond grabs one of the bags as well, more for an excuse to follow them than anything else.
"What did you put in here?" Desmond grunted at the weight of the bag. "Is it full of bricks?"
Charity didn't answer, but instead followed Raymond.
When they got to the room, Desmond got in first. He sat the heavy bag on the ground and let out a sigh of relief. He was just about to explain the unfortunate sleeping situation when he noticed something.
His feather- no, descole's feather boa, laying on his bed.
Shit shit shit shit shit he thought, hastily moving the covers to hide it. Charity didn't seem to have noticed.
"Wow this room is huge," She said, plopping down on the other side of the bed.
"You'll get used to it," Desmond replied. Yup, you made a huge mistake letting her be here.
"So.... where's your room," Charity asked.
"Um... the thing is..." Desmond stammered, unable to fully explain the situation. "This is kinda... there isn't really... what with the circumstances... and all my travels..."
Charity giggled again. "Your face is going red again. What's wrong this time?" There was no malice or hate in her voice, which comforted Desmond slightly. He took a deep breath in and out.
"The thing is... This is my room." The look on Charity's face... he didn't like the look on her face. "N-now, don't go getting any ideas," he stammered again, "it's not like I want this... the guest room is just full of things I don't trust you not to break."
Charity grinned evilly. Desmond realized that what he said didn't necessarily sound the best.
"So you're saying that you'd rather share a bed with me than have me be uncomfortable. That's cute."
I do not like this I do not like this I do not like this
Raymond, no doubt realizing things could get awkward, left the room, leaving Desmond and Charity alone.
Desmond sighed. He sat down on the side of the bed that concealed his- no, not his, he needs to stop saying that, Descole's- feather boa. "Why did I agree to this?"
"Like I said already," Charity said, crawling behind him, "you're lonely. Heck, I'm lonely too. I get it. But sometimes what one needs when they feel bored or lonely is to be shoved into an awkward situation."
"Well this certainly is awkward," Desmond said, more to himself than anything. She respects me, possibly even likes me based of her incessant giggles at my red face. He knew it wouldn't last long, however, if she even got a hint at his alter ego-
"What's this?" Charity asked, holding up a feather from the feather boa Desmond currently sat on. Of all the things to choose descole to wear, I chose something that sheds hella easy. He didn't say where it was from, obviously. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Why exactly were you so intent on meeting me?"
"Oh that.... um... Well Layton had Luke as his apprentice as well as flora and Emmy as his assistants, and you only have Raygun."
"His name is Raymond."
"Whatever. Why should I answer your questions when you didn't answer mine?"
you would hate me if I told you the truth about that feather, Desmond thought to himself.
"Umm... earth to Des?" Charity waved her hand in front of his face.
"Fine!" Desmond said, defeated. "That goddamn feather came from one of my pillows. Happy?"
"Yup!" Charity giggled, then got off the bed.
"Why did I agree to thiiiiiiis?!" Desmond yelled through his teeth.
"How many times will I have to answer that question?" Charity had taken some things out of one of her bags and had set it on the floor.
"It's rhetorical." Desmond answered.
"You're rhetorical," Charity said, then laughed.
"That didn't even make sense. Why are you laughing?"
"You make it so easy, you know?"
Desmond didn't know.
"It's so easy to just get whatever reaction I want from you. If I say one thing, you turn red as a rose. I say another, and you go angrier than a bull seeing said rose. Honestly I don't know how you're still single. I know women who would do anything just to pick at you, myself included."
That little blurb she said, that's when it hit him, why Layton helped this particular lady. She was like descole. Doing things just because they interested her. Poking at parts of people just to see what would happen.
Great, now my brother decided it would be fun to force me to live with a person that reminds me too much of my life's biggest mistake. Dammit, Layton