Costillos was always a bitter, obstinate man. He could not accept defeat. He could not be changed. And yet... He saw it in his eyes. Those proud, beaten and wise eyes that the Professor now fixed on him. Hershel was certain of his victory, but without greed or gloating. He did not see his victory as one to celebrate. He just knew he fought for a better world, and he had withstood the trials that Costillos had thrown his way. All of them. And he proved he was the better man. And what did Costillos have to show for it?
Every instance of his defeat only fuelled his anger, drove him further into insanity. For the first time, he saw the futility in vying for another chance at triumph. Hershel Layton proved to be the better man that day. His friends more cunning, more courageous: they truly fought on the side of angels.
So instead of allowing the rage to take hold, he felt the fight leave his body, and he slumped over. Descole, to his left, took a defiant step towards Hershel, but Costillos held his arm out, blocking him. The man stared at him curiously, and he sighed.
"No... No. He is right. It's over."
Hershel wasn't sure who was more surprised by Costillos' statement: himself, or Descole.
"But, sir!" Descole stammered. "I am a match for him!"
"No you're not. Or at least, you shouldn't be. You are his brother, after all. And I release you."
The effect wasn't visible, but after a few seconds, Descole blinked a few times and then looked around, his eyes fixing on Hershel.
"Brother," he said quietly. Hershel nodded. "I don't know how I am here... Or why I'm wearing this ridiculous outfit... It's all so fuzzy."
Hershel frowned, crossing his arms.
"That was always the way with Imperium. Once free of its grasp, it's as if it was never there from the start. Only traces remain, and even then they quickly disappear. I would worry not, Descole. Leave. Leave and continue the life you started without me."
Descole glanced down, considering. He was torn. A reunion with his dear brother wasn't on the cards. At least not yet. Not now. Not when he hadn't found the path he was certain of. He glanced then at Costillos.
"Who is this? What is going on here? And where's your hat?"
Hershel looked to Costillos, the man still slouched over, his strings cut, and then he turned back to Descole.
"Just another evil villain defeated, a plot foiled, another day saved. As for my hat..." He sighed, remembering now that his hat had flown out the smashed airship window during his scuffle with Costillos. "I suppose I'll have to find another."
Descole shook his head, snorting.
"Always the way with you, isn't it, brother? Always the moral superior."
Hershel smiled, marvelling at how Descole's cynicism remained as potent as ever.
"Come," he grinned, extending an arm of friendship. Of brotherhood. "Allow me to tell you all about it. We shall free Raymond of his infliction, free the prisoners, and get down. That should be plenty of time."
"Raymond's here?" Glancing around, he shivered. "Never a dull day when you're involved. That's why I always gravitated towards you I suppose. Why I tested you so much, brother. Call it what you will, but I always saw it as a challenge. You make life... Dare I say it... Fun."
Hershel shook his head, feeling unbelievably weary.
"Fun is the least of it. But interesting it certainly is."
Descole accepted his brother's arm around his shoulder, and then Hershel looked once more at the broken Costillos. The danger was over, certainly, but he had a feeling his time with Costillos wasn't at its close just yet.
*****
The scattered members of Team Layton all converged in the park sitting opposite the London Eye, each of them following the sight of the slowly descending Angel Airship which had darkened the London sky considerably, yet now was a shadow under the night sky, a grim reminder of the disaster which had almost struck the fair city. The London Eye, though damaged and missing a few carriages, was illuminated by a rainbow of neon lights, casting the clearing before them in a brilliant display of colour. Emmy spotted Luke and Flora, Luke picking up something from the floor, and she patted at Clive's shoulder excitedly. She had seen a portrait of Flora in a visit she had made to St Mystere, but viewing the girl up close showed a beauty that the painting never could. This Flora was taller, her features more defined, and she was the picture of grace.
As the four members of Layton's close friends met each other excitedly, Geoffrey and Nightshade landed on a lamppost nearby, silent observers. Nightshade gestured excitedly with her wings as Silence dropped Don Paolo off close to the embracing group below. They flew down to meet their friend, if the enigmatic Silence could be called that, but she seemed to be in fine spirits, smiling even. Grosky sprinted into the scene, Shiverfang hanging desperately on to his hair, and he stopped a few metres short, watching the group with a proud grin. He glanced up at the airship which was almost upon them. He spotted police cars parked on the street nearby, remnants of the earlier events with the explosive Ferris wheel, and he approached them, bringing with him the good news.
Last onto the scene, delighted at the sight of her friends all chatting excitedly, surrounded by a swarm of police officers, was Sofia, Alexai sitting atop her shoulders, squealing delightedly as Geoffrey and Nightshade flew over, landing on his extended arm so that he had two animal friends. The sight warmed Sofia's heart; she was still shaken after seeing her son taken by strangers, and just this simple act was shaking the little boy from his frightened state. Letting him down off her shoulders, she grinned as he darted over to join his friends, staying close by Flora, their bond as strong as ever in the short time they'd known each other.
All moved aside as the airship touched down, and as the large hangar door opened, a ramp extending out, there was a moment of silence, breaths held as nothing happened. Then from the murky light within stepped Hershel and Descole, seemingly in a pleasant mood, and Grosky ordered the officers not to apprehend the ex-Angel. Hershel and Descole were swarmed by their friends, though Descole stayed a little behind, wary of them all. He wasn't a friend of theirs. At least he didn't think he was.
Next followed the three archaeologists: Chenegra, Stein and Delmona, huddled together, breathing in the free air. Not two seconds after followed the final prisoners of Costillos, held all this time: Henry and Angela. Their hands were linked together, and they looked around for their friend. Randall wasn't too far, however, and once the officers brought him over, the sight of Angela smiling at him fondly seemed to shake him from his stupour. He colllapsed in her arms, stroking a weary head.
"I thought..." Flora began, looking inquisitively over at the Professor. "That the effects of pure Imperium could only be reversed by confronting one's fears, or facing the possibility of harming a loved one. That's what you said!"
Hershel shrugged enigmatically.
"Those were the results we found."
Chenegra stepped in, looking exhausted and ready to curl under the blanket with a cup of tea.
"It's all a corruption of the mind. The results we found were two of supposedly many. The mind is a fascinating thing."
Hershel nodded.
"Costillos had merely to release Descole and he returned to his former self. I gather in that instance, the corruptor can reverse the effects instantly."
Clive crossed his arms, clicking his tongue.
"And what of Randall? Costillos isn't even here right now."
Hershel thought about it for a few seconds, but it was Professor Stein who answered, yawning and scratching at his chin.
"As Doctor Chenegra said, the mind is a fascinating thing. We cannot hope to fully understand it. At least not in our present state. It simply could have been that the sight of Angela smiling, whereas before she would have screamed or looked at the man with loathing, was enough to set his mind free. Some mysteries are beyond us."
Clive smiled.
"Let's just be happy that he's back at all. How are we going to free the others?" He glanced over at Hershel, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Perhaps this is a mystery for the Gentleman's Club to solve, eh?"
Hershel beamed at the memory of Clive throwing around names with him at the beginning of their journey. That was but a few days ago. How much had changed since then... How many lives were affected by Costillos' plot for vengeance and power? Too many, he decided.
Another figure appeared in the doorway, the last soul on the ship, not counting Raymond, who seemed to be content to stay at the wheel. With all the fire gone from his eyes, he was a hollow man. Even so, Grosky still sent two officers just to be sure. Before they could cuff him, Costillos raised a hand. The excited murmurs grew feint until they died out completely. In the eerie silence, only crickets chirps sounded in the bushes by the river's edge.
"Before you arrest me," he swallowed, seeming a little more animated. "I wish to speak to Hershel first. And Luke."
Grosky shook his head firmly.
"Uh-uh. You'll have plenty of chances to talk to him behind bars."
Hershel cleared his throat, and Grosky glanced at him. He felt a little uneasy as the eyes of all the Professor's friends, standing around him, fixed on him.
"Chief Inspector. It's alright. Let him speak."
Grosky paused, then muttered darkly to himself and waved for the officers to release him. As Costillos took a few tentative steps forward, Hershel and Luke approached him, nodding once at each other.
"It's funny," Costillos laughed, not meeting their eyes. "Before this night, I never would have imagined myself surrendering. Defeat? That was never in the agenda. What I'm trying to say is... I am a stubborn man. I always get what I want. The prophecy was fiction, aye. But the feelings still exist there. I still despise you. Both of you. You did this. But you don't end it. You don't have the final laugh. I do."
Before Hershel could speak, Luke watched as Costillos' hand snuck into his jacket, and he noticed a glint of light. Without a second thought, he pushed the Professor aside, screaming.
"LOOK OUT!"
Costillos had drawn a dagger, swinging it down in the blink of an eye, his intended target the Professor, but instead his blade met the stomach of Luke. Everyone was paralysed, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Grosky was the first to snap out of his daze, his police training kicking in. Sofia too. Both of them grabbed Costillos roughly, wrenching the blade from his hand. As officers ran about frantically, the members of Team Layton registered what had happened, screamed, surrounding Luke as he slumped to the ground.
Hershel pushed through them all, his heart pounding, a volley of canon shots in his head. He was breathless, his vision faded. As he stumbled beside his apprentice... his friend, he held him up, cradling him in his arms. Luke was struggling to breathe, and he fought to keep his eyes open, but he was still alive. A small patch of red was slowly widening across the right half of his torso.
Where the world was drowned out before, now it all came back into focus. Hershel could make out the triumphant – or was it despairing cries from Costillos. Grosky was shouting for an ambulance, and Flora was sobbing quietly to his right. He felt someone brush against him, and he glanced to his left, to the comforting, yet concerned face of Emmy. She gripped his shoulder. He looked down once more to Luke, tears marking his eyes.
"I don't want to lose you," he murmured, almost too quiet for the rasping Luke to hear. "I've had enough illusions and trickery. Please don't let this be a reality. Let it be another... Another lie."
Unable to take it, he pressed his face into Emmy's shoulder. She pulled him into a tight hug, and it seemed to last forever. Then Luke coughed.
"P-professor," he murmured through ragged breaths. "I thought... you said... never to make a s-scene in public."
Hershel choked, looking back to his best friend, limp in his arms, yet not giving up. He wanted to smile, but could not.
"My mother..." he continued, fixing Hershel with a weary grin. "Said a gentleman never... cries. But that's not right... is it? E-everyone cries. It doesn't... make you... any lesser than... anyone else." He found his eyes wondering over to Flora. She nodded through her tears, grabbing at his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He felt her warmth. She felt only cold.
"Don't speak too much," Hershel warned. "The paramedics will be here soon. You'll be alright."
Luke grinned, but it was a cracked one.
"I – hope so. I don't feel terribly well."
Despite everything, a few giggles escaped lips. Even Hershel smiled greatly.
"But just in case," he spluttered, stopping the others the moment they protested. "Just in case... I want you to know... That this isn't your fault, Professor. It wasn't."
Hershel was lost for words. This was his fault. He didn't protect Luke. He had failed his parents. But above all, he had failed his greatest friend.
"No, I can see that... look in your eye," Luke smirked, coughing twice more. "Stop it. If I... If I am to die here, I don't want to go knowing you blame... yourself. I chose... I chose this. I chose to save you. It's the least I owe you. You... you who changed my life so much... Who saved... my life on so – so many occasions."
Hershel shook his head, unable to stop the flow of tears.
"Luke," he breathed. "You don't owe me anything. You never did."
"You're wrong, Hershel," Luke countered, and Hershel inhaled sharply. Luke never called him by his first time. He always thought it was too formal, that Hershel was his mentor and he wasn't worthy of being on a first name basis. This was a Luke of a different nature. A Luke Hershel wished he could have known more. "No you never asked for thanks, for returned favours... That's not your way. I know that. But I also know... that you are the best... best thing to ever happen to me. I... I was lost, some foolish little kid before I met you. In some ways, I still feel... like that kid. I've grown, but in your presence, I feel like... the same ten-year-old.
"I guess I just want to say... Thank you. For... for everything you've done for me. You guided me, shared your... wisdom... your compassion... But more than all that, you were... a true friend to me..."
His smile returned to Flora, but then hovered over to Emmy.
"Emmy... We've been through a lot, huh? You know... I don't hold what happened... in the Azran Sanctuary... against you. You were just... doing what you believed... was right. That's all... any of us can hold to, right?"
Emmy shook her head, fighting back tears of her own now.
"Oh no, Luke," she said, wiping away the first tear. "I threatened you. I'm not worthy enough to be called your friend."
Luke shook his head. It was measly, more a gentle tilt.
"You are. You wouldn't have hurt me. I know you." Before Emmy could protest, he continued. "You did keep a lot secret... but you also revealed so much in our years of... travelling together. You were... kind, funny, sharp, bold and.... And so much more."
His gaze once more fell on Flora, and she couldn't take it. She buried her face in her hands. Alexai, still at her side, tugged at her fingers, hating to see his friend this torn. She refused to budge at first, but then she couldn't resist the pull of a small child's hand, and she let him take her hand. He threw himself in her arms, and she held him tight until she had the strength to meet Luke's gaze again. She knew she was being incredibly selfish. Luke may not have had much time left, but like a true gentleman, he was waiting for her to be alright.
"Flora...What can I say other than... I love you." The effect of his words was immediate. Like a powerful wave, it ripped throughout all of them, tugging at their hearts. "I wondered it... for a long time," he admitted, blushing and laughing. His laughs descended into coughs, and Flora gasped, but he quickly gained control once more. "I have no fear of saying it. After all, this might be my last chance to say... Well anything. So why not be bold? Why not speak the truth?"
Flora's expression was hard to read at first. A multitude of emotions swept across her face. Disbelief. Anger. Confusion. Acceptance. Yearning. Affection. Regret. Love.
"Luke," she said, more a whisper. "I..."
Luke's eyes fell shut, and it was as if all the air was taken from their lungs. For a long while, no one moved. Grosky's incessant shouts about how long the paramedics were taking faded into the background. The distant sounds of sirens broke through the monotony, but aching hearts silenced all else.
Then... Luke coughed. His eyes opened, only partially. The patch of red had taken up much of his chest.
"Professor," he smiled, meeting the Professor's eyes one last time before glancing down at something a little ways away. Hershel looked in the direction Luke was facing, and he suppressed a gasp. He had found his hat. Turning back, he met Luke's grin, the lad opening his mouth to say more, but no sound came out. He grew dreadfully still. His chest stopped falling and rising. It was over. Costillos' final victory.
"Luke," Hershel breathed. He closed his eyes, blocking out all the world. He didn't want to acknowledge any world where Luke did not breathe its air, share in its wonders and draw smiles from all that met him. And yet such a world did exist now. The paramedics had arrived, too late. Hershel refused to give up Luke at first. He wanted to hold onto his friend, but eventually he was forced to let go. Luke wasn't wrenched from his grasp, but he knew, in the end, that he couldn't hold on forever. That Luke had to go. It was just how things were.
"I'm sorry," he wept. As if it ever really mattered.