Professor Layton and the Rewound Repercussion

It can't end like this…!

Layton waited at the dirty glass booth, staring at the old plastic phone. It was his first time visiting since Clive's arrest, and he wasn't sure what to say. What could he say? Nonetheless he had said he would visit and a true gentleman always kept his word

There was a large clanking noise, and the shuffling of feet with chains alerted the professor to the entering convicts. Each settled down into his respective spot, others waiting in the back. Layton did a quick mental calculation-it seemed that Clive would be the last one out. Finally, a large, ferocious looking bailiff led him in. Prison hadn't been kind to Clive-he looked thinner-paler, even. There was little light left in his eyes.

"Hello, professor." Clive smiled thinly. He looked tired. "Good of you to come see me."

Layton frowned slightly. "You speak as though you expected me not to."

"Frankly, I didn't." Clive rubbed his wrists absently. He was slouched uncharacteristically in his chair, leaning towards the glass window that separated them.

Unable to think of a better way to break the lengthening awkward silence, Layton coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. "Ah…are you well, Clive?"

"Not really, professor. I'm afraid that prison doesn't suite me quite as well as levelling London did." Clive chuckled, though the sound was hollow.

Layton's eyes narrowed, analyzing the boy. He wasn't sure if it was Clive's attempt at humour, or if he had really sunk back to the insanity that once consumed him. "Well, Clive. I see no reason for you to be surprised. I wouldn't just leave you here, you know."

Clive looked away, still smiling cynically. "Oh? With my record, I wouldn't have been surprised. The good professor shouldn't have to lower himself to my level."

"I've done no such thing." Layton shook his head.

"Did you come here to mock me, professor?" Clive returned his attention to the man behind the glass. "To chastise me for my failed justice? Are we going to speak about philosophy, professor? Will you teach me how to love?" He laughed coldly.

The professor was at a loss. "Clive…why are you acting like this?"

"Look at me, professor." Clive grimaced suddenly. "This is no act."

Layton sighed. "You're bitter."

"Oh? Am I?" Clive cocked his head to the side, smirking. "I hadn't noticed, really. Not with the weekly beatings or the docked rations or the cold showers or the—"

"I'll save you." Layton's voice was soft, yet still clearly audible from the receiver near Clive's head.

Clive bit his lip, pained expression crossing his face. "You'll…you'll what?" He tried to laugh, but his voice broke before he could force the sound past his lips. "You'll save me?"

"Yes, Clive." Layton nodded. "I've saved you twice before. They say the third time's the charm, you know."

"You're an old fool," Clive snapped.

Layton sighed to himself. Perhaps it had been a bad idea coming here. He knew that Clive had no one else to visit him anymore. All the effort Layton had gone through-after all, it wasn't every day that you got to see someone put away under maximum security.

"Clive, I think-" Layton began.

"No, Professor. I think there's nothing you can say to me anymore. You must really have come here just to rub all my failures in my face. If that's all you have to say, then I think it's time that you get back to your pressing job." Clive moved to leave, but Layton rapped loudly on the glass partition. A guard yelled something, but the professor promptly ignored the outburst.

"I have no intention of leaving you just yet," Layton said. "Nor do I intend to admonish you for your previous actions. What's passed has passed—we cannot change that. We can, however, work for a better future."

"So you believe you can fix me, professor?" Clive sat down again. "Are you going to rehabilitate me?"

"No, Clive. I can't, as you put it, 'fix you'. Only you can do that." Layton shook his head thoughtfully. "I can only aid the process."

"You can't help me, professor. I'm gone."

"I will be the judge of that, I think." The professor smiled gently. "You're not lost yet, Clive."

"You're doing this for Claire, aren't you?"

Layton stiffened. "Why would you bring that up?"

"She came back to save me and now you're doing the same. Don't you think that's a little suspicious, professor? Are you honouring her last wish? I assure you, my wellbeing is of no importance to—"

"Don't say that, Clive," Layton said sternly. "I came of my own accord. Claire has nothing to do with it."

Clive smirked. "Oh really?"

"Yes, 'really'."

"Have I struck a nerve, professor? Shall I stop talking about your dearly departed?"

"Clive, stop this. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

Layton stood, adjusting his top hat. "I'm afraid our time has run out."

"Leaving so soon, professor?"

"I have a class to teach in forty minutes." The professor glanced at his watch absently.

"I believe you."

"You should—it's the truth." Layton's eyes travelled back to the waifish boy behind the glass. "I will return within the week."

"Without a doubt."

Layton regarded Clive's sarcastic expression carefully, frowning slightly. "I wish you would trust me, Clive."

"And I wish there was true justice in the world. We can't always have what we want, can we, professor?"

"No…I'm afraid we can't."