AN: And here we have the final part. Yay! I don't own Layton. Thanks for reading, all! Much love!

IV. Green: The Illness

The doctor's prognosis was no small relief. Luke would be fine, the man said as Layton escorted him to the front door of the brownstone where teacher and student lived. He needed a few days of solid bedrest, and to drink plenty of liquids. He would be back on his feet in no time at all.

Layton thanked the doctor profusely and saw him out. As soon as the door was closed behind the man, the Professor turned and headed back up the stairs, back to Luke's room. The door was still open, and Layton stood in the doorway, looking into the room.

Luke was in bed, lying on his back with the blankets tucked in tightly around him. His eyes were closed; he was asleep. But his breathing was labored and wheezing, and his face had a peculiar color to it that only a sick person could truly have: he was pale and flushed at the same time, with a tinge to his countenance that bordered on being green.

This had all started earlier that morning when he had called Luke down to breakfast. It was unusual for the boy to sleep so late. He was usually up fairly early, running around and doing this, that, the other thing, and maybe something else. The energy of the young was something to be marveled at, truly.

But there was no energy today. There were slow, shuffling footsteps, and then Luke appeared, still in his pajamas. He was practically green in the face, and nearly collapsed into his chair at the table instead of merely sitting. He then leaned on the table with his forehead cradled in his hand.

Properly alarmed at this unusual display, Layton crossed the kitchen and put his hand on the boy's forehead. He could feel the heat before his hand had gotten anywhere near the skin; Luke was far warmer than what was normal, and his skin was clammy to the touch.

The Professor had acted quickly. Luke was ordered back to bed, and then had to be helped back up the stairs as he nearly lost consciousness halfway up the steps. Layton had ended up more or less carrying Luke back to his room and getting him into bed before going to summon the doctor.

The prognosis was as he had expected: Luke was sick with a high fever. It seemed that there was something going around, and many children were becoming ill.

Now Layton was left to take care of things.

He crossed the room slowly and came to stand beside the bed. He paused, then sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking care not to jostle it too much. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and put one hand to Luke's forehead (which still felt so warm) and began gently brushing the sweat-dampened hair back from his skin, making it stick out at odd angles.

For the first time in quite a while, his apprentice stirred, and Luke looked up at him through glazed eyes. "P-Professor…?" he mumbled.

"Just checking on you. That's all," Layton said with a smile. "The doctor said that you're to stay in bed, and you'll be fine in a few days."

"…the doctor was here?" Luke wheezed after a moment.

"You were asleep." Layton said. "Is there anything you need?"

"…water?" Luke asked. "Throat hurts…" That was punctuated, appropriately enough, by a harsh cough that seemed to rattle his entire body. "S'hot in here…"

The Professor smiled. "I'm afraid you're going to be very miserable for a few days, Luke. I'll get you some water." He rose with the intention of going in search of a glass.

"P-Professor…didn't you have…" Luke coughed again, "…'nother meeting today?"

"I rescheduled," Layton said matter-of-factly. In truth, he had been scheduled to attend a meeting with a client that afternoon. But after he had summoned the doctor, he had called the client and informed them that his son was sick and he needed to stay home.

There had been no issues from the client upon hearing the reason.

It took him a mere moment to retrieve the requested glass of water, and he was back at Luke's bedside with it. "Can you sit up?" It turned out that Luke could, but only with a bit of help to get himself upright. He managed a few swallows of water before he slumped back to the bed, seemingly exhausted by the exertion of sitting up.

Layton thought for a moment, then went down to his study and retrieved a small bell that normally sat on the mantle. It was a trinket he had picked up somewhere. Now he took it up to Luke's room and set it on the bedside table. "If you need anything, my boy, just ring. I just should be able to hear you from anywhere in the house."

A mumble that might have been an affirmative answer was his only reply, and Layton smiled in spite of himself. "All right. I'll let you rest." He stepped back out of the room, extinguishing the lights as he did so, and leaving Luke to get some sleep.