Author's note: So…here's a Layton Fanfic (which of course turned out longer than intended-for any of you wanting a Dark Apple update I'll have one up as soon as I can! Sorry for the wait [life has been so busy D;]). This is in honour my friends' birthdays that have now passed: Emerald, Sharky, Connie and of course our fabulous Admin MJ! ;D ;D ;D [I'M SORRY FOR THE BELATED GIFT! D;] This is set after the main RP on MJ's 'Layton Life' RP titled 'The Crown of the Ages'. In a nutshell, there are three ancient crowns (Egyptian, Roman and Chinese) that control the three great armies if handled wisely. Setting out with several OCs and his companions, the professor and co have to work together to unravel one of their toughest cases yet.

Important notes (but if you're really interested see 'The Story so Far' topic on 'Layton Life RP') Don Paolo used the Roman Crown to open a portal in time to save Claire from her fate. Now she is united with the professor and the two have proposed. Don Paolo sacrificed himself at the end of the RP to save everyone (along with a cat called Henchley who is Sharkness's OC) and that my OC Lisa Adamson has developed a close bond throughout the story with MJ's wonderful OC Archie Pendrake. I'd strongly recommend checking out the RP and everyone's OCs because they're amazing. I'm sorry I couldn't include them all-I just couldn't find time and a suitable area to put them, but if not for the efforts of MJ, Sazaki Anthea, Sharkness, Emerald Enchantress, OverLord, Noctornal, EmmyEeveeZora, A study in Top Hats, Puzzle, Sora, Darksin, Prosecutor Godot, Moonie, Goldie, Sprinkles and Plasmatrooper then this forum wouldn't be the most awesome in the Professor Layton universe. Thank you so much to all of you wonderful members! :D :D :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Professor Layton, its characters the plot of 'The Crowns of the Ages' or the OCs except for Lisa. Level 5 and the other authors have that pleasure. (Archie and Richard Pendrake are MJ's OCs and a huge thank you for giving me permission to write about them! :D)

Set immediately after the events of The Crowns of the Ages, on the boat journey back to London. I apologise for the length ;'D Contains the pairings of Lemmy, Clayton and Larchie. ;D Enjoy and Happy Birthday guys! ;D ;D ;D

Memories

The young woman stared mesmerised out to sea, her long tangled strands of chestnut hair blowing gently around her narrow shoulders, the skin of her exposed neck kissed by the rejuvenating breath of the cool breeze surrounding her. Her bold dark eyes shone like glazed obsidian as the retreating rays of light from across the horizon were cast onto her pupils, being reflected off of the film of tears forming in her eyes. Emmy Altava however was only subconsciously aware of this. Her thoughts lingered elsewhere, the all too rapid events of merely an hour ago replaying through her mind a dozen times. She pulled her lemon jacket securely around herself, fingering the camera in its familiar leather pouch at her waist, where she always kept it. It was a habit of hers to stroke the edge of the camera pouch with her long fingers whenever she needed consolation.

The continuous rocking of their yacht failed to cease, much to Emmy's frustration. Waves repeatedly lapped against the polished edges of the yacht, white horses of foam galloping gracefully across the briny waters. Beams of light danced alongside the waves, the slightest ripple distorting their pure beauty. The aroma of fresh brackish salt threatened to overwhelm her sensitive nostrils as she winced in distaste and hastily turned away from the horizon, the deliberate bobbing motion of the yacht threatening to lull her to sleep. Abandoning her position from the sturdy pine balcony, she turned on the heel of her armoured boot and staggered back towards the others, the process taking longer than necessary due to her gradual tentative steps.

Emmy hated travelling by boat; it made her horribly queasy. The last time had been during a wretched storm and the ship had been hauled mercilessly across the waves, sails shredded and devoured in a roaring gale. They'd been lucky to make it out with their lives, her and Uncle Leon. An abrupt pain tightened in her chest, an emotional bind wrapping ever tighter around her heart. It had been a very long time since she'd last seen Uncle Leon, when he'd been arrested by Scotland Yard after the 'defeat' of Targent, but he'd seemingly somehow managed to evade imprisonment and had returned back to his ways with Targent, his ways that endangered innocent people, that…that even caused the loss of life. She must've been nothing but an impudent foolish girl to have even considered joining her uncle and his troupe of…assassins, let alone work for them. Now that she could see clearly, it had been nothing but plain terrorism. Nonetheless she still felt strong powerful emotions for Uncle Leon, that she had to protect him, look out for him and prevent him from making the same mistakes as he did when searching for the Azran Legacy. He'd been injured in the events of their search and the last she'd seen of him was when one of his agents (Vague, she thought her name was) had hauled him away and to safety. It seemed he'd abandoned that 'noble' way of life he'd sworn to, but deep down underneath that cold invisible mask of his was a sensitive and compassionate man. Emmy knew that, but she remained firm in what her immediate answer would be if her uncle invited her back into Targent—

"Are you alright?"

Dragged from her train of thought, Emmy jerked her head in the direction of the voice, her expression softening slightly when she noticed that it was the aburn wispy haired woman with the thin framed glasses that had spoken.

"Ah, I was just...thinking. Just memories," she answered as confidently as she could manage, her trying to make her tone sound uplifting, "Thank you."

The woman smiled back at her, the worry disappearing from her flushed cheeks. She seemed to wear a considerate permanent smile and wherever she walked Emmy could've sworn that pestilence and all negative things were seemingly erased from existence.

"You're welcome," she replied, averting her gaze to the horizon and breathing in the briny sea air with a contented sigh, "This experience is so refreshing…I've never felt more alive than I do now."

"Um," Emmy began uncomfortably, rubbing the back of her neck, "I don't believe that I caught your name earlier, Miss-?"

"Oh, please forgive me. I'm Claire. Claire Foley."

A bemused expression mixed with shock and apprehension flashed across Emmy's pupils as Claire spoke. That name…she'd heard the professor speak of a woman named Claire before. She'd been his girlfriend back at Gressenheller and they were destined to be, until fate had wrenched her out of his grasp in that time machine experiment over ten years ago. This woman, sitting directly opposite her smiling so serenely, had an almost identical appearance to a worn photo that she'd noticed at the back of the professor's desk: flowing hair that extended like orange waves, bold eyes as bright as sunlight itself, glasses slightly askew on her pale gentle featured face. He'd obviously positioned the picture exceedingly carefully, placing it somewhere where it was only available to his eyes as he went about his daily life at Gressenheller, having made an unbreakable vow that he would never to forget her.

Emmy shook her head in extreme confusion. She'd…Claire had died though…how could she be sitting in front of her this instant—?

"A-aren't you the professor's—"

"Claire? Are you alright?"

Their heads spun around simultaneously, a warm smile immediately enveloping Claire's face. Emmy beamed at the professor as he advanced towards them, feeling somewhat abruptly uncomfortable being in their presence now that the professor had entered. She felt like an intruder, as if she was unwelcome and shouldn't be there at that specific moment in time.

"Ah, Hershel. I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she answered politely, instinctively twirling a long strand of her hair around her fingers (a habit of hers when she found herself growing nervous), "How are Flora and the others?"

"They're currently resting at the moment. I assume Flora's exhausted from the current events, the poor dear. I believe that Sakuya has taken Luke to the canteen. He has a rather, ah, considerable appetite," he added, laughing softly as he proceeded to take a seat next to Claire.

His eyes never left Claire's for a single moment, as if he was terrified that if he tore his gaze away for a second then she would vanish from his side again. By the expression of pure pleasure on the professor's face, Emmy knew that that wasn't an option for them.

"Aha, I remember that well, Hershel. Are you alright? You look…rather drained."

"I'll be fine, Claire," he assured her with a smile as he adjusted his hat carefully so that the elation in his eyes was clearly identifiable, "A gentleman never complains."

"Ha, ha, you never changed at all, Hershel."

A smouldering emerald fire blazed inside of Emmy's heart as she watched the two adults staring longingly into each other's eyes. She was barely aware that her fingers were folding down into her palm to form a sharp fist, nor of the fact that a luminous crimson was steadily flooding into her cheek. Her heart gave an enormous pang of guilt as a series of envious selfish thoughts flashed across her mind. She gently placed a hand to her chest, aching inside, enduring the agonising ordeal of forcing her true emotions to surrender to her the continuous commands of her racing mind.

Emmy knew that she should be extremely pleased for the professor, having been united with the woman whom was dearest to him, having not been able to speak to her, to caress her smooth delicate face, to kiss her passionately. He deserved every shred of happiness in the world, as far as she was concerned, but it seemed that she wasn't the one who could provide him with it. Well…when she contemplated if the professor harboured those feelings for her, the answer was revealed in that flashback when she'd revealed her secret at the gates of the Azran Sanctuary; the expression of immense shock, mingled fury and the mounting betrayal etched into every line of his face…even now it was excruciating for the woman to remember, but after what she'd done, the professor had every right to turn his back on her, to push aside her hidden powerful feelings for him. She couldn't deny that this still pained her as much as it would've done if her mentor had stabbed her with the glimmering glass knife that had pierced Aurora's heart—

"A gentleman would never change for a lady," he answered, his fingers effortlessly finding hers as they intertwined without any sign of hesitation and remained there, firmly joined, allowing nothing to separate them.

The longer Emmy peered at them, the more her envy rose, until her suddenly scorching rage boiled inside of her and threatened to erupt as explosively as an active volcano. She could hear the mocking jeering hiss of a snake called Jealousy directly in her ear, sneering that her chances of revealing her true feelings to the professor were more than over, that she was an idiotic, selfish woman who couldn't hold a candle compared to the radiant beauty emitting from her enemy. It threatened to strangle her like an invisible noose, making Emmy bite her lip harshly to prevent herself from screaming at the now giggling woman opposite her. It seemed so unjust, that she was so happy at this moment in time and had an incredibly bright future to look forward to when she, who had saved the professor's life on multiple occasions, was sitting there grinding her teeth as they talked cheerfully to each other, acting as if Emmy was an invisible being in mid-air.

'I'm better than her,' Emmy kept repeating to herself under her breath, as if for consolation that the words she uttered were true, 'I can do so much more than her, Professor. Why won't you notice me?'

"Ah, Emmy there you are," he spoke suddenly, having only just acknowledged her presence, "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

Emmy's heart leapt and all signs of envy were evaporated momentarily by the warmth of the professor's words.

"I'm fine, Professor. Just a little…tired," she answered, yawning slightly to her greatest embarrassment, "Wh-why? You weren't worried, were you?"

"It is perfectly normal for one to worry about the personal safety of his assistants," he replied gently with a light chuckle, "I can't allow them to run headlong into danger. It is the duty of every gentleman to protect those dearest to him—"

"You know I can look after myself!" Emmy interrupted with a frustrated sigh.

"Be that as it may, Emmy, I still worry. Besides…that's perfectly normal behaviour for a gentleman when worrying about his assistant."

The woman smiled gently to herself, before peering around questioningly.

"Um...where's Flora, Professor?"

"Well...last I saw her she'd been suffering from a nightmare," he began quietly, pulling on the brim of his top hat, "I wouldn't be surprised; Bronev's earlier…treatment of her, Archie and Miss Stone has clearly left her quite terrified."

Emmy winced uncomfortably. Whilst sitting next to the girl earlier Flora had sat bolt upright upon hearing a sudden noise and appeared to be shaking as if experiencing an unpleasant fever. Having attempted to calm her down and ask what was wrong, she'd learnt that her uncle had taken them hostage in Rome during their search for the Roman crown. This added yet another reason why she'd never set foot near Targent again.

"…Yes, she was telling me about that earlier," she said quietly, feeling heavily sympathetic for the girl.

Claire closed her eyes and sighed, clearly hoping that the girl recovered from her fright soon. For a split second, she peered at Emmy, scrutinising her face as if searching for a hidden message. Emmy frowned slightly, wondering if she was searching for something to criticise her about, before Claire carefully rose to her feet, still holding the professor's hand.

"I think I'll go and see how she is," she said quietly, "I'll only be a few minutes, Hershel. There's no need to worry and I think I need to stretch my legs a little. I've been sitting still for two hours now."

The professor looked up, slightly surprised, but he smiled gently as he gradually removed his hand from Claire's, slightly hesitant in case her body began glowing luminously again and he'd find herself torn from him yet again.

"Of course, Claire. I…will try not to worry."

Claire's expression softened and she reached out one of her pearl skinned hands to stroke his cheek adoringly. Emmy drew in a sharp breath, deciding to avert her gaze to an interesting black pebble lying disregarded on the floor.

"I'll never leave you again, Hershel. Nothing will take me away from you again, not even nature itself. You do know that, don't you?"

The professor gazed, mesmerised , into her shimmering black eyes, tears welling in the corners of her eyes for her firm desire to stay with the one she loved. The professor too, Emmy noticed, was fighting valiantly to keep his eyes dry.

"I now know that better than anyone, my dear. Go ahead, I'll see you soon, Claire."

Smiling one final time, Claire let her hand rest to her chest and strode across to the other side of the deck, her radiant flowing hair disappearing from sight as she ascended to a higher level of the yacht.

Emmy had no idea whether her excuse was true, but one thing was certain: she and the professor were now alone.

The two of them sat quietly for several moments, unspoken words causing an uncomfortable silence between them. The professor had his hands folded neatly in his lap and appeared to be examining them with great interest. Emmy had her eyes averted to the floor, running one hand through her hair gently, as if trying to neaten her appearance. Not that it would've mattered now.

"Is it true, Emmy?"

Emmy jerked her head upwards at the professor's sudden question, her cheeks becoming flushed. She wordlessly berated herself for having failed to obscure her body language and she knew that her signs had been remarkably obvious in expressing her emotions.

"Wh-what do you mean, Professor?"

"Come now, Emmy. A true lady tells the truth," he reminded her, observing her with an expression of warmth with the tiniest trace of sadness visible, "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Having been training you as my assistant for almost three years, It's rather ah, easy to know what may be on your mind."

Emmy's breathing quickened slightly and her cheeks almost resembled scarlet strawberries.

"S-so…do you know what I'm thinking right…now?" she asked, swallowing as she tried to keep her voice steady.

"Indeed I do," he replied calmly, "I believe you've been experiencing these feelings for quite a while now."

Emmy nodded slowly, her eyes closed with shame, convinced that whatever bond she and the professor had shared was now terminated because she couldn't control her own stupid emotions—

"I am not disappointed in the slightest, Emmy."

Cautiously, she hesitantly opened her eyes and peered into his own bold eyes, feeling tears begin to sting the corners of her eyes. What happened immediately after that was completely unprecedented on Emmy's part; the professor's hand hovered slowly above her own and his fingers gradually intertwined themselves around hers. He clasped her palm, handling it exceedingly delicately, a small smile spreading across his features, making his smile brighten like the first rays of dawn before a new day, a new event waiting to unfold.

"Wh-what do you—"

"In truth I…had no idea that you harboured a…persistent affection for me," he confessed, still beaming, "Although I have to admit that…at instances during our time together I…felt something there that was…stronger than what I would call friendship, or even the care of a mentor for his assistant. If any harm had befallen you I would have held myself entirely responsible."

Emmy's heart lifted, any trace of tears now erased.

"I…ever since that day you saved me from...being falsely accused, I have felt indebted to you, Professor. I vowed that I would strive hard as your assistant…but it was also my job to keep a close watch on you for…Uncle Leon," she told him, sighing guiltily, "I berated myself every time I left a report for Uncle Leon because…I felt that betraying you would throw everything you'd taught me and your…friendship…away, but I couldn't disobey Uncle Leon because…I didn't want to lose him…either. However…since the day I was appointed your assistant I learnt that I was working for one of the most selfless and kindest professors in existence. Then…as our bond grew stronger…I began to feel more than just…respect for you, Professor. I…I loved you. My feelings were never returned in the same sense…but…my desire to prove myself to you never faded for a second."

The professor remained silent during Emmy's explanation, absorbing her every word. He had expected something like this to tumble from her lips after pressing her, but he hadn't imagined how…passionate she had been all this time. Clasping the brim of his signature top hat sadly with his free hand, he peered once again at his assistant, his smile gradually weakening.

"Emmy…I wish I'd known how you…felt," he answered quietly, guilt identifiable in his tone, "I...there were times when I felt a similar feeling…between the two of us. You never failed to make me smile, you were always there in times of need and you proved yourself to be my number one assistant—"

"But…my betrayal…when I told you that I was actually a spy working for Targent," she protested firmly, shaking her head furiously, "How can you even call me your assistant after what I did?"

"The past is the past, Emmy. I made it quite clear that I'd forgiven you even before you left. Once again our paths crossed and you were of as much assistance as you'd always been. If it were not for you arriving in time to render me unconsciousness then…I fear the damage and suffering that I could've caused if that crown had unleashed its potential dangerous power upon me. I thank you once again, Emmy, although I shouldn't have underestimated its grip on the mind of man. Our inferiority has always been a weakness."

"Professor, you couldn't have known what would've happened. You…you would've found some way out of it eventually," she insisted, forbidding him from apologising.

An expression of guilt and pity met her eyes when he eventually raised his head.

"However…I could never allow these emotions to show," he continued seriously, "and I cannot even now. I'd rather have kept them obscured than have to see you suffer and endure…heartbreak. Yet it was unfair to keep you in the dark and hopeful. I…I hope you can forgive me, Emmy—"

"Please, Professor, just say what it is you need to. Please stop stalling!"

"I-I…I couldn't show my feelings of affection for you because…I…I would've seen it as betrayal to both you and Claire."

Her heart sank as quickly as it had rose, leaving a cold air lingering around them. Emmy bit her lip and remained silent, waiting for the professor's explanation.

"Ever since I laid eyes on her, Claire had…had always been my one true love. I…I believed that we were destined to be…but that day…when she was…cruelly torn from this world and from me…I felt emptiness in my heart, a hollow hole gradually growing larger throughout the days of her passing. I had never been as close to another as I had to her. The last thing I ever dreamt of doing would be to…betray her. Therefore, after eventually ceasing my investigations on the circumstances of her death, I vowed that I would never love another as I had with her. I…I couldn't allow myself to…love you the way I loved Claire."

"I…I understand, Professor," Emmy faltered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Besides…it would've been despicably cruel to have responded to your affections; I…I would feel that I was using you as a substitute for Claire…though I did have affections for you on more than one occasion, Emmy, I have to put them behind me now. Claire and

There was a long and rather uncomfortable silence between mentor and assistant for what seemed like an eternity but was only mere moments. It was finally broken when Emmy shakily rose to her feet and swiped her chestnut hair out of her face viciously. Her desolate, wistful eyes peered back at the professor and he couldn't help averting his gaze with shame and pity. He never knew how much the truth could wound a person.

"…Thank you for your honesty, Professor."

Bemused, Layton lifted his head slightly to see a small smile spreading across his assistant's face, her true emotions effectively obscured.

"M-my, dear, please forgive me. I am so sorry that you had to hear it from me—"

"No, Professor. You have nothing to apologise for in the slightest. In…in all honesty I'm pleased for you both. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Hershel. You really do."

The professor couldn't help feeling mildly surprised that she'd addressed him by his first name and guilt began to rise inside of him.

"Emmy, I—"

"Claire is an extremely fortunate and lucky woman to have a fiancé like you and I know that she will give you more affection than I could ever give you. You've…you've waited half of your lives for this…"

She paused for a moment, as if pondering her next words carefully.

"E-Emmy…" he whispered, longing to reach his arm towards her and console her as a gentleman should do so.

"I'd better go and see what the others are doing," she interrupted quickly, her head bowed, "However, will you please grant me one favour, Professor?"

Layton's hand gripped her own again instinctively; he didn't want to lose his assistant, one of his best friends, the woman he may have shared a bond with that was…stronger than friendship.

"Anything, my dear," he answered softly, heart thumping against his ribs.

"Then," she replied quietly, "Since I will have no other opportunity to do this, I believe that now is the perfect time…"

She paused, scarlet spreading through her face. Then, before the professor could open his mouth to ask what she wanted, he felt the warm sensation of her lips brush delicately across his smooth cheek. Her arms automatically flung themselves around his neck and she began caressing his now reddening cheeks, clinging to him as though she refused to ever part with him. Once finally overcoming his immense shock at his assistant's actions, he began to comb her beautiful waved hair with his long delicate fingers. An explosion of emotions flowed through their veins as they shared this final moment together, emotions that could no longer be present when the dreaded moment came when they were forced to pull away. Her lips were soft against his cheek and carried all of her overflowing emotions with it. The professor couldn't deny that the sensation was pleasurable and for a single moment he desired nothing more than to take her in his arms, to tell her how much she really meant to him, how he couldn't bear to lose her loyalty and affections. Eyes closed, fiery passion burning through her, Emmy drew ever closer, overwhelmed by her emotions, subconsciously moving nearer until their hearts beat simultaneously as one devoted entity.

Having not the faintest idea how much time had passed since she had made her daring move, their affectionate embrace was abruptly terminated when Emmy gradually pulled away and unwound her arms from around his neck. Stunned, the professor staggered slightly on his foot as he lost his balance. His eyes widened in shock as he stared hard at his assistant. Although there was still a minute trace of sorrow on her face the smile she returned to the professor was as radiant as the brightest star in the universe. Guilt steadily formed in his heart, but he too managed a warm grin at his assistant.

"That was…unexpected," he replied quietly, the event now seeming hazy as if swirled like mist through his mind.

"I know," she answered with a bright laugh, "Thank you, Professor-for everything."

Before Layton could open his mouth to reply, Emmy turned on her heel and walked towards the staircase, her hair swishing gracefully behind her back, now humming a soft tune under her breath. This would've been the last thing Layton would've expected to hear coming from his assistant.

"Emmy! Wait!" he called after her.

Shocked, she paused and hesitantly turned to face him, her head over her shoulder, eyes broad and perplexed.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I…I just want to say, Emmy…thank you ever so much for being…my number one assistant and…for your dedication to…our investigations. Would…would you be the maid of honour at our wedding alongside Flora?"

Emmy's smile widened and she nodded immediately, in highly restored spirits.

"Of course, Professor, I would be honoured," she answered softly, "Thank you…and I just hope that your wedding is perfect. Both you and Claire deserve it more than anyone…"

Seeing that her emotions were genuine, the professor beamed gratefully back at her as she grinned at him one final time before beginning to ascend the staircase, taking each step with a motion that resembled skipping.

'I can't believe I did that…I let all my feelings overwhelm me and…I honestly thought that the professor would never desire to speak to me again after what happened just then but…he seemed okay with it—'

Emmy quickly skidded to a halt, unable to feel a horrible sensation gnawing at her stomach as she peered at the despondent expression on Claire's face. Tear streaks were evident on her cheeks, the edges of her eyes appearing rather inflamed. Flora had her arms around her shoulders, being as loving, sensitive and supporting as always. She appeared to be whispering sadly to Claire, who nodded and wiped her eye with a slightly pale hand. Emmy instantly froze, her heart threatening to explode out of her chest as perspiration began to form a layer on her forehead; had she been watching them from up here? There was no way she could've done, but the expression on her face was not one she'd commonly wear. What else would've affected her like this?

"I'll never forget him," she whispered quietly, sighing sadly, "Paul would want his memory to live on-and I shall ensure that he is never forgotten."

"Paul?" Emmy asked, perplexed, before she could stop herself, suddenly realising her rudeness, "S-sorry, I just came up here to see if you were—"

"Hershel didn't send you, did he?" she asked, managing a weak laugh, "He worries so much—"

"No, I came up here of my own accord," Emmy interrupted quickly, "So you were saying that you wouldn't forget a man called Paul?"

She half expected Claire to frown and reprimand her for listening in on a conversation in which she had no part in, but the blow never came.

"Don Paolo," she corrected gently, closing her eyes in respect, "He…he was a great man. He turned out to be one of the most selfless people I ever knew. He sacrificed his life so that we could get away, he…saved me from my fate and…fulfilled my only wish…"

"Was…was he the one who…flew his helicopter into the portal with that…cat," Emmy asked quietly, swallowing hard as the memory came back to her.

"Yes. I…I never even got to thank him properly…and now…"

She trailed off, water stinging her eyelids again. Flora's grip tightened and she bowed her head quickly, obviously trying to hide her tears but unable to stifle her discernible sobs.

"They were both s-so brave," she stammered, "Mr Paolo was such a gentleman in the e-end. He s-saved us all and H-Henchley was my f-friend…why did they have to g-go?"

Emmy opened her mouth hesitantly, wanting to say something that would comfort the crying girl, but she found herself unable to. It was a pitiful sight, but nowhere near as pitiful as the fact that Emmy herself had conversed with him for a few brief moments and hadn't even had the decency as the professor's assistant to ask his name. Now she knew the name of the man who had saved all of their lives and couldn't prevent herself from closing her eyes and allowing the memory of their first and last encounter to replay itself in her mind:

"Th-Thank you…"

Emmy watched apprehensively as the professor instantly fell to the ground, the Egyptian crown leaving his head, leaving it strangely bare without his hat. As she peered around her the soldiers seemed to be halting, retreating and releasing their grip on a ginger haired woman and…a man with a rather prominent nose and two long spikes of hair resembling horns. Noticing the professor falling to the ground, he quickly picked himself up and began murmuring to the woman, clearly asking if she was alright. As she nodded and immediately tore away from him to see to the professor (which should've been her job as his assistant) the man turned to her with a wide and slightly disturbing grin.

"That has got to be one of the best kicks I've ever witnessed in my life!" he announced, clearly impressed as the professor remained motionless, "Thank goodness you were around to stop Layton from causing havoc with the Egyptian Jackal soldiers!"

Emmy peered at him, confused yet secretly pleased that her efforts had been noticed.

"All in a day's work," she answered in a professional tone, swishing her hair behind her back, "Is everyone okay?"

"Pah! We're still standing and nothing can weaken me!" he declared, flashing her an even wider grin that made Emmy wince slightly, "I suppose Layton will have signs of your handiwork when he eventually comes around."

"I hope it's not…too bad…"

"Pah! It'll take more than that to damage that soft hearted top hatted fool!"

"D-did you just call the professor a fool?!" she demanded, her voice taking on an abruptly angered tone.

"Ha ha ha! An admirer of Layton are you, dear?" he asked her with distaste, twiddling with his moustache, "I guess that adds to the list of his other one hundred admirers. Not even the woman who I saved from death will choose me over him."

"The professor is a gentleman! What has he ever done to you to make you hate him so much?!"

"Ah, feisty little miss aren't you?" he sneered, "Well, I could make a list of the reasons why I despise him so: he stole my girlfriend, he beat every single one of my meticulously perfectly planned schemes—"

"Then why are you working with him?" Emmy shot back, a similar grin spreading across her face.

"Er…well…," he faltered, beginning to sweat slightly, "OH ALL RIGHT! This case was too difficult for either of us to handle and we wanted answers to the same questions so we decided to work together…until the investigation meets its end-and then our grand rivalry shall ensue!"

Emmy shook her head and sighed, her eyes abruptly widening at the extraordinary contraption not too far away from them. The technology appeared to be highly advanced, every inch carefully constructed. A propeller protruded from its upper half, each long sail (Emmy had no idea what to call it) bearing a sharpened point. If she could've made a guess, the propellers could've been used as a substitute guillotine if anyone unfortunately came too close to deep amethyst shade of the contraption shimmered in the warm rays of the sun, a soft glow like light on a heather field radiating gently off of its smooth metal surface. Attached to it were a multitude of bright buttons, long levers and several other attachments that Emmy had no name for. She'd never seen anything so expertly constructed and handled in all of her life, not even during her time in Targent.

Noticing the expression of awe and admiration adorning her face, the man beamed and began fiddling with his moustache, as though rather flattered.

"I see you're getting an eyeful of my pride and joy there," he observed with that same grin, "You like it?"

"Did…did you make this? All by yourself?!" Emmy demanded, unable to deny that the art was nothing short of being flawless.

"That I did! Tinkering with mechanics, arranging secret projects and listening to music is a hobby of mine, when I'm not trying to annihilate Layton, that is."

He expected her to immediately turn coldly towards him and berate him for referring to the professor in such a 'heartless way', but the blow never came.

"It's…it's amazing…" she stammered, absorbing its every detail, "You…you must be extremely talented, sir."

"Pah! Sir! You have no need to address me in such a formal manner, my lady," he sniggered, an undeniable scarlet slowly spreading across his cheeks at her politeness and actual interest in him, "but if you feel the need to then I shan't complain. However, I prefer the label of 'ingenious criminal mastermind'! At your service, miss!"

He concluded his seemingly rehearsed speech with a graceful bow and thrust out a hand for the woman to shake. Emmy advanced hesitantly, his hands reeking of the overwhelming aroma of smoke. After a brief pause however, she shakily extended her own arm and shook his hand gently (although Paolo almost wrenched her arm out of her socket as he 'shook' her hand).

"I'm the professor's assistant…," she greeted in a friendly tone, quickly massaging her shoulder when he released her hand, "or rather his uh…ex-assistant."

Paolo raised an eyebrow at her statement but much to Emmy's relief decided not to ask her complicated questions about her life.

"So, you used to be Layton's assistant, huh? Well, even he must be stark raving mad to have had that blue kid as an 'apprentice' in your place over you."

"Huh? Oh, you must mean Luke," she realised, before suddenly becoming defensive again, "and I should have you know that he was just as good as me…well…maybe I was just a little bit better but…he's a good kid and the best apprentice that the professor could hope for."

The man sniggered to himself, obviously thinking the opposite of the woman, before he turned to face her again and smiled a yellow-toothed smile.

"Well if Layton's disowned you then you could fill in and earn your keep at my place. I could use an assistant to help me with my creations and besides…I might even let you have a ride in my Paolo-copter."

Emmy covered her mouth with her sleeve to provide the notation that she was pondering over his offer, but in reality she was stifling her laugh at the original name he'd obviously taken several hours to think of for his chopper.

"I'll um…think about it sometime…"

The man smiled with satisfaction, although it seemed rather forced and contradicted the saddened expression in his eyes.

"I'm only pulling your leg, miss. Don't feel pressured to say what you don't mean…but I do appreciate you listening to my ramblings and taking the time to acknowledge my creations."

A pitied expression crossed the woman's face as he began to turn away, sighing despondently.

"It…doesn't seem like you don't get much company," she told him quietly, sympathy identifiable in her tone.

"No, I don't really. Just me and my little 'friends' as I like to call my creations. Anyway, don't go going all soppy on me, miss, it'll spoil your looks."

Emmy couldn't resist the temptation to glare at him.

"Hmph. I don't really care about beauty," she sniffed, "There are more important things in life."

"Truer words have never been spoken, miss, although I for one thought that you were quite a looker and had a nice athletic figure."

"E-Excuse me?!" Emmy protested, balling her fists, "Who do you think you are commenting on my…attractive features?!"

The man failed to answer her as he sniggered to himself and walked away from her, approaching his Paolo-copter with a ginger cat (Emmy thought his name was Henchley), both of them peering at each other with knowing expressions. Emmy was rather bemused by his actions but her queries vanished as the professor began to stir and gradually attempted to sit up.

"P-Professor?!" Emmy cried, immensely relieved to see his eyes open again, "Are you alright?"

"C-Claire…? Is that you? Are you alright…?"

Emmy shook her head gently.

"No, Professor. It's Emmy. We're alright, don't worry."

Seeing a woman with flowing aburn hair sprint to his side and collapse next to him and a teenage girl throw her arms around him and begin weeping (his adopted daughter Flora), Emmy stepped away to allow them space to tend to the professor.

'I thought you'd never open your eyes again, Professor…' she thought, sighing with relief, 'I'll always be right by your side, as your loyal assistant, ready to protect you at all costs…'

Emmy jerked herself free from the memory and sighed despondently. How could she have been so selfish? How couldn't she have found out his name?

"I…I think he loved you, you know," she told Claire quietly, trying to push away her jealousy that not even one man had shown an obvious love interest in her, "He really cared for you."

"I know," Claire answered, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "I never returned his feelings, nor Dimitri's. My affections were always for Hershel. They were polite and the kindest people I'd ever known but…I had no idea that they truly felt like that even when I pushed aside their feelings. I just wish that…I'd at least spent more time with Paul…but fate has made that impossible…"

Flora whimpered quietly, causing Claire to resume her consoling grip on her and murmur soft words into her ears. Emmy couldn't stop herself from smiling as she peered at Claire again: although she had won the man of her dreams, she had to be one of the most selfless people in existence.

"Look after him," she told her quietly, "For me. I know that you'll make him happy and that the two of you will probably have one of the most impenetrable bonds in the entire world. I was unable to, but I know you will. You're…so lucky."

Claire closed her eyes, an expression of guilt and pity spreading across her face as she eventually met Emmy's demanding gaze.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I had no idea that you—"

"It doesn't matter. You're worth ten of me. The professor loves you, not me. That's all there is to it. I just hope that you're both happy together. You…both deserve all of the happiness in existence."

The woman sniffed and smiled kindly back at her, touched beyond words.

"Th-thank you, Emmy," she whispered, "I will not rest until I fulfil your wishes and I…I appreciate your feelings…you truly are Hershel's assistant number one."

Emmy's eyes widened and she felt herself being lifted through warm beams of sunlight once again. Smiling proudly at the compliment, Emmy straightened her back so that she appeared taller and turned to leave before taking a final glance over her shoulder.

"Thank you."

Her head held high, Emmy quickly left the upper level of the ship, her heart now radiating with positive emotions as she advanced towards the balcony with her camera poised ready to seize any image as bright as her current attitude.

"Ouch!"

Jerked from her fantasies, Emmy sharply cried out as she collided with another passenger of the ship. She rubbed her now throbbing shoulder shakily and turned apologetically to face the unfortunate boy she'd conveniently managed to send to the floor with her eagerness.

"Oh my-I'm terribly sorry!" she apologised quickly, feeling slightly guilty as she offered the boy a hand, "Oh, wait a minute! Aren't you one of the professor's students?"

The boy nodded in response, gritting his teeth as he nursed the swollen area where he'd collided with the overly enthusiastic woman. Thankfully, his current expression was concealed by a thick mess of a slightly silken silver strands that fell in thin waves down his angular face. His fringe was currently dangling in front of one of his eyes (Emmy wondered how he could tolerate such an annoying feature) but nonetheless didn't seem to bother him as he smoothed out his midnight shaded jumper and felt around instinctively in his pockets to ensure his precious art pad and pencils were still intact.

"Archie Pendrake," he answered quietly as he effortlessly wiped his fringe from his eyes, "You're Professor Layton's assistant, aren't you?"

"Um, well that would be more of an ex-assistant, actually," Emmy answered, biting her lip, "but yes. I'm Emmy Altava and…I must sincerely apologise about knocking you over like that."

"No, Miss Altava, I should apologise. I guess I need to start paying more attention to my surroundings."

"It's perfectly fine, Mr Pendrake—"

"Archie," he corrected her, a frown spreading across his face, "Anything apart from Mr Pendrake, or Archibald, if you please."

"Right, s-sorry," she stammered, beginning to blush again, "Anyway, you're not hurt, I hope."

"Thankfully not. Yourself?"

"Um…I'll live," she answered quickly before brushing herself down, "Anyway I'd better um…let you get on with what you need to do. It was nice meeting you, um…Archie."

Archie raised his eyebrows slightly as she swiftly turned on her heel to leave, before shaking his head gently and peering after her.

"Likewise, Miss Altava."

He had no idea whether she'd heard him, but at least he'd handled the situation rationally as a responsible young adult.

"Archie?"

The boy jumped slightly and spun on his heel to face the owner of the voice that he now adored so much, a smile immediately spreading across his lips.

"Ah, I was wondering where you'd got to, Lis."

He couldn't help smiling affectionately as her shining sapphire eyes met with his own dark bold irises. Rays of light from the setting sun behind them shone on her long hair, its shade being an almost identical colour to the golden sands of the desert that they had ventured across mere hours ago, secured with large pink flower grips and jade slides in the form of snakes. Although it was evident that Lisa didn't believe herself remotely pretty, Archie now found himself mesmerised whenever he observed the now benevolent expression in her eyes, the pureness of her pallid complexion and the freckles dotted unevenly around her cheeks. He had no idea of it himself, but Lisa herself fell into a similar trance upon gazing at his radiant, youthful face and the graceful silver waves of his hair.

"Forgive me if I startled you," she replied quietly, straightening her glasses and tugging at the golden pendant around her neck (her last gift from her grandfather, Archie remembered).

"You've nothing to apologise for," he told her, his smile widening, "Were you looking for me?"

"Yes, but I also needed a…moment…"

"I understand," he whispered quietly, his fingers interweaving with her own, "You know you can talk to me whenever you need to."

"Of course, Archie. I know that better than anyone."

The two beamed at each other, seemingly separated in their own existent world from everything else around them.

"The sunset's going to be beautiful tonight," Archie commented, turning Lisa towards the exquisite view and the variety of watery colours shooting through the sky, "All of these colours...they're so remarkable…"

"Perhaps you could mix some of your paints to get those exact colours when you have time," Lisa replied, drinking in every detail, "I imagine that they'd make a flawless portrait."

"Maybe," Archie murmured as he reached out a hand to scrape a stray strand of hair behind Lisa's ear, "but it would be almost impossible to create a piece of art that matches your own beauty."

"A-Archie," Lisa stammered, blushing slightly as his hand moved to caress her face, "I'm not—"

"I think you are and that is all that matters, Lis."

Affection surging through his veins, he leaned forward delicately and grazed his lips across her forehead, planting his overpowering emotions of elation upon her. Lisa's eyes briefly widened in pleasant surprise, before she extended her arms outwards and wrapped them gently across his waist, closing her eyes in a sense of contentment, warmth radiating from them both simultaneously through their embrace.

"Ahem. Am I interrupting something, Archibald?"

Horrified, Archie quickly drew away from Lisa, his suddenly apprehensive gaze resting upon the seemingly smouldering glare of his father. Lisa inhaled sharply and quickly released Archie, her head now bowed almost shamefully. Archie didn't need to examine her face to know of the immense guilt she presumably felt at that moment.

"F-Father!" he exclaimed, sheens of sweat forming on his brow, "I-I didn't realise you were there…"

"I've actually been standing here some time, my boy," he replied, a frown enveloping his face, "Might I ask who this young lady is?"

"Uh…Th-this is Lisa and…she's been accompanying me on this…adventure," Archie began, deciding to omit the details about Lisa's past, "We've become really close friends and she's…she's saved my life more than once. I owe her my own life."

Lisa tentatively raised her head as Archie spoke. Richard's frown eased slightly but his gaze remained lingering on Lisa.

"Saved your life?" he repeated, peering from Lisa to Archie and back again, "Well…I believe I owe you my most heartfelt gratitude, Miss Lisa."

"Th-thank you, Mr Pendrake," she answered shakily, unsure of how events would unfold.

"Without her I wouldn't even be here right now and…she has no-one left. Her family…her grandfather," Archie added, swallowing hard, "She's… I…I care about her so much and we've become close friends after—"

"I think you've become slightly more than close friends!" Richard interrupted, his eyes narrowing, "Archibald, what do you think you're—"

"I love her," he pronounced firmly, causing Lisa to peer up in shock and Richard's jaw to literally drop, "I care about her and of her wellbeing also. She watched her own grandfather murdered before her eyes. She's had no-one to care about or cherish her for too long and…I've decided…that Lisa is going to stay with me."

"I-I beg your pardon—"

"I'll see to purchasing a flat near to the university and Lisa and I will move in together," Archie continued, surprised at his own confidence, "and another thing, Father, I have decided that I'm going to drop archaeology and take the art course instead. This entire trip…has made me loath it even more than I previously did."

"My boy, what do you—"

"You never cared for my interest in art!" Archie interrupted, his voice now raised and his arm protectively around Lisa, "You always wanted me to take archaeology, but I don't want to become a part of that field! I never wanted to! I…I only went along with it because…because I was worried that I'd lose your respect…"

Richard blinked rapidly, his eyes averted to the ground.

"I…I had no idea…"

"I wanted to please you as your son, but I never succeed in doing so. However, if you truly loved me as my father then you would allow me to do what I felt was right. Therefore, I have decided to become more independent, keep Lisa company and pursue my dream career. The professor…he is an intelligent and benevolent man…but I detest the subject he teaches."

There was silence between them, apart from the barely audible whisper of the breeze as it brushed against the sail of the ship.

"Please," Archie continued shakily, in a pleading tone, "I love you, Father, but…I have to do this."

Richard sighed dolefully after several moments of hesitation, his gaze still focused on the ground.

"Archibald…wh-when did you mature so abruptly?"

Stunned, Archie peered questioningly at his father as he raised his head to stare at his son, tears forming in his eyes.

"I…I realise that I have been utterly selfish. I only wanted what was best for you, Archibald, but my decisions were of my own desire, not of yours. I...I see that now. If…if that is what you really want, Son, what will make you happy then…you may do so."

Archie gasped sharply, hardly able to believe his ears.

"Are…are you being serious?"

"I am," he responded, a small smile beginning to form on his face, "It makes me…pleased to see my son making decisions that his own father can't-but yes, I consent to this young lady staying with you, if that is what you desire, but there are to be several rules, understand, Archibald?"

The boy nodded vigorously, his hair flying into his eyes. Lisa barely managed to stifle her laugh in her coat sleeve, causing Richard to manage a nod of approval.

"I-I owe you my deepest thanks, Mr Pendrake," Lisa added quickly to cover for her laughter.

"I can see that you care deeply for her, my boy, so I know that you'll both be fine. As for the art course…I'll agree to that as well. I'll dig through my account when we return home and I'll find the money required for your first few lessons."

"R-really?! You…don't disapprove?"

"Not now, I now realise your passion for the subject," he answered before suddenly turning stern again, "However, I'd still advise you to find another profession as well to find extra money as simply being an artist won't cover it completely."

"Yes. Dad…I…," Archie stammered, biting the inside of his cheek, "I should apologise too. I know you only wanted was best for me and I was…unfair to you also. I know that archaeology is your passion…and I should've respected that as your son—"

"I should've respected your passion for art as your father," Richard interrupted, suddenly extended his hand out to Archie, "Archibald-no, Archie. Do you think that we can set aside our differences and start afresh from here?"

Archie stared at his father, unable to comprehend the sudden transformation that had occurred. However, after a moment's hesitation, he reached his arm out towards his father and shook his hand firmly.

"Of course, Father. O-of course…"

Smiling, Richard released his grip from around his son's wrist and straightened his suit.

"A-anyway…you should inform the good professor about your decision to leave his class, Archie. I'm sure he'll be saddened to lose you…but respective of your choice."

"I will, Father."

Nodding in satisfaction, Richard turned to leave, being interrupted as Archie quickly called out.

"D-Dad, thank you again."

He turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze soft.

"No, Archie. Thank you. My boy…I'm proud of you…"

His heart lifting, Archie turned to face Lisa again, whose face bore as much shock as Archie's at Richard's decision.

"Well…that went a lot better than I expected…," he murmured, smiling affectionately at Lisa, "Are you sure you want to—"

"Never have I been more sure in my life, Archie," she answered, taking his hand for the second time, "Come, let's head to a higher level; we should get the best view of the sunset from there."

"Right you are, Lisa," he answered softly.

Wearing a beam that refused to leave his face, the young student allowed the girl to lead him, each feeling safer and happier whenever in the others' company. From out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the professor approaching Claire, caressing her affectionately as he pulled out a gleaming diamond ring and guided it carefully along her finger. Extremely pleased that everything had worked out for everyone (with the exception of…those brave, selfless souls who had sacrificed their lives) the pair strained their ears to listen, catching the professor's gentle and benevolent voice.

"I never got to propose officially to you back then, so…as a gentleman, I shall do so now," he replied as he lowered himself onto one knee, "Claire Foley, I have been waiting for ten long years to say these words. I never imagined that they would actually be said, but fate has allowed it to be so. Claire Foley, I promise as a true gentleman to cherish you always, to love you with my final breath and to be by your side no matter what the circumstances, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, until death do we part. Will you do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife?"

Eyes widening with joy, tears forming in her radiant eyes, Claire nodded immediately and flung her arms around the professor, her face buried into his shoulder.

"H-Hershel…," she sobbed, her hand clinging to his jacket, "I do…my true gentleman…"

The professor pulled her closer towards him, so that he could feel the comforting sound of her steady heartbeat against his own. With his hand delicately combing the ginger strands of her hair, he closed his eyes and planted a gentle kiss upon her head, lost in a blissful haven, desiring never to let his beloved leave him again and dreading the moment, although only short, when they would finally have to let go. From up on the top deck, a lady in yellow carefully observed the moment, smiling gently to herself as she raised her camera and released her finger from the button, capturing the heart-warming moment for eternity.

"Thank you, Professor," she murmured quietly to herself, still smiling warmly, "You truly are a gentleman…"