Hello everyone! This is my first Layton fanfic, so please R&R.

Summary: Luke is having vivid nightmares every night. What is he hiding?

Chapter 1: Clive's POV

"My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time"

Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock strikes ten.

I sigh; I can't stand to hear the perpetual ticking of clocks. All it does is remind me of what I have done in the past. Currently I am staying at the Layton residence for a few weeks, and the Professor is going to be out late for a few nights for research, lectures, etc. So I am stuck babysitting Luke and Flora. Well, I wouldn't say "stuck," I don't really mind it, and it is nice to have quiet evenings such as tonight to myself.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

I sigh again and rub my temples. Then I mark my place in my book and decide to continue reading upstairs in my room to get away from the repetitive passage of time. I leave the light on so the Professor doesn't walk into a house of pitch black.

Upstairs, I lean my head against the headboard and continue reading Hamlet, my favorite play. However, then I was interrupted, which I absolutely loathe while I am reading. I was hearing noises from one of the other rooms, and decided to investigate.

"No, stop it! Please leave me alone..."

I gasped and immediately dashed down the hall toward Flora's room, fearing the worst. I paused in front of her room; I didn't hear anything. As quietly as I could, I opened her door and peered in. Nothing; she was sleeping soundlessly. Confused, I shut her door. I listened intently trying to figure out where it had come from. Had I imagined it? No; that was not possible. Everything had a logical explanation. Then I heard it again, this time the voice was whimpering. I blinked. Luke?

I walked toward his room a few doors down. Yes, it was definitely coming from his room. I opened the door.

"Please get off of me," Luke whimpered. He was thrashing about in his bed, obviously having a nightmare. I went over to the bed and attempted to wake him.

"Luke, wake up!" I called, shaking his shoulder. "Luke! Luke! It's alright, 'tis me, Clive!"

Finally he woke up with a start, gasping for breathe, his eyes wide with utter terror with a few tears falling down his cheeks. He didn't seem to notice my presence. "Luke?" I called softly and touched his shoulder. He cried out and jumped away. "Luke, calm down. It's only me! You were having a bad dream."

He turned and looked at me. "Oh," he said just above a whisper, "Sorry." He began to wipe away his tears on the back of his sleeve. I sat on the edge of the bed and took the handkerchief sitting on the side table, gently moved his arm, and proceeded to wipe away his tears and the sweat on his brow.

"There." I said, finished. "Better now?" Luke nodded, still sniffling a bit. I saw his teddy bear laying on the floor by my feet. "Here, you dropped this," I said handing it to him. He mumbled a thanks.

I remember making fun of him for sleeping with it, and he would always get very defensive about it. One time, I thought he was going to attack me, but instead he ran up to his room, crying. Once the Professor had learned of this, he told me that Luke's parents had given it to him, and now they were dead. Of course! The only explanation that would make me feel like the biggest idiot in the world.

"Th-thanks for w-waking me," Luke said quietly. "No problem," I replied. "I didn't have much of a choice; you were quite loud. I don't know how Flora could have slept through it," I continued, trying to lighten up the mood. "She sleeps through everything," Luke mumbled. I chuckled. "Are you alright?" I asked again, squeezing his shoulder. He nodded, "It was just a bad dream."

"The Professor always said you had an active imagination. It appears it is beginning to turn on you!" I said jokingly. He didn't say anything. A moment of silence passed between us. "You should go back to sleep," I told him. He silently laid down, clutching the bear to his chest. I pulled the covers up. I gave his shoulder one last squeeze. "Goodnight, Luke," I whispered and left the room, shutting the door behind me.

Back in my room, I tried to resume reading, but with no luck. "He seemed pretty spooked, and he didn't yell at me when I comforted him," I thought, "What on earth was his nightmare about?"