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ts-into-the-coinverse · 4 years

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Made of Love, Chapter 27

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Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Sometimes the spider gets an easy meal. (And, no, Virgil won't save it this time.)

TW: Cursing, violence, unsympathetic Patton, blood mention, injury description, body horror

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“Virgil,” Patton started in an overly calm voice.

Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Something urged him to. A need he didn’t quite understand, yet complied with anyway. Virgil didn’t pull away so it must have been fine.

"I know we don't have any reason to trust Dolos, but I want to ask you one thing," he turned so he could look at Virgil, "is he telling the truth?"

"I…" He squeezed Roman's hand. "I don't know."

Wrong answer.

Patton frowned. "How do you not know?"

"I-I don't know. I don't remember —"

He stepped forward. "Did you tell anyone or not?"

"No. I never said anything. I swear." He kept a tight grip on Roman's hand.

"Then why don't you know?"

Virgil spared a glance over to Thomas and Logan. They watched the scene in wary skepticism. "Because I… I think I did do it." He quickly added, "but not on purpose."

That still didn't quell Patton's rising suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

Virgil looked at Roman this time. And Roman wanted to take away that fear and doubt he saw. "When I left the house on my own — when I was attacked by that Figment — I think it saw where I came from."

"Oh, man," Thomas whispered.

Logan remained silent and Roman didn't know what to say, either.

But Patton. Oh, gosh, there was a hidden fury there Roman recognized right away. "So we've been found because you didn't listen to us? When we told you never to leave the house alone, did you think that was a suggestion? There was a reason we said that and it was to make sure no Figments snuck up on anyone."

"I think he gets it," Roman stepped in. It was just… crummy. An accident. A wrong place and a wrong time kind of a deal. There was no way Virgil would have known. "It happened. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"You think I can just let it go? We've been living here for nearly twenty years in secret. Nothing has ever happened to get Altair even close to knowing where we are until you two showed up."

Roman took personal offense to that.

"And now he can walk in at any moment because Virgil decided to take a nightly stroll with zero regards for his surroundings."

Everyone fell silent. Roman was partially fuming from the implication that this was all their fault. They didn't ask to be thrown into this wild story. Patton was the one that decided not to write them out in the first place. He was the one to agree with Thomas about telling them magic things. If he didn't want any nasty troublemaking little humans around, he should have said so before this whole thing even started.

"Logan, fuse with me."

Logan looked up in alarm. "W-what?"

"Fuse with me." He marched over to Logan and Thomas. "We need to make sure nothing gets in this house that we don't approve of and Picani is the only one that can do it." He held out his hand.

“I, I don’t —”

“Logan.”

Logan shut his mouth tight. His fingernails dug into his arm. "What if it doesn't work?"

"It's going to."

He shared an anxious glance with Thomas before staring at Patton’s hand in uncertainty. He made a reach for it but Thomas gently grabbed his wrist.

“Patton,” Thomas started. “You can’t just force him to do it.”

“I’m not. I…” He looked at Logan, seeing rare vulnerability over his face. He probably felt it — the nervousness, the terror. “I…” He sighed and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll — I’ll find a way to do it myself.”

“Patton —” Logan tried to stop him from leaving, but Roman put a hand on his shoulder.

Once he was in the house, Virgil groaned and drew his hand away from Roman. “I’m so sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to screw this up so bad. It was an accident.”

“We know that,” Roman reassured. “Right?”

A loud silence followed. Thick and palpable, leaving a dry, bitter taste behind. Roman felt his confidence wavering.

After what must have been an eternity, Thomas responded with a quiet, “Right.” Logan remained silent.

Virgil frowned at the ground.

Okay, that sucked. Roman refused to let that be the end of it, though. “We should get inside before Thomas freezes to death.”

“Yes please.”

Inside, there was proof that something went on. It was a huge mess that spread between the living room and the kitchen. Glasses and mugs were broken, the coffee table was destroyed, and almost all the furniture was somewhere it shouldn’t be. In the moment it didn’t seem that drastic, but looking at it now was a different story. A tornado would have left a cleaner mess.

Thomas gasped and rushed over to a picture frame on the floor. It must have fallen off the wall. “Oh no.” He picked it up and glass pieces fell from it. The frame itself was unsalvageable, and the picture proved to be undetermined.

“Be careful,” Logan warned softly.

Thomas slipped the picture out of the broken half of the frame. At least most of it was okay.

“Maybe we should clean all of this up,” Roman mumbled as he looked around. The once neat rooms were a complete disaster. He didn’t think he’d ever see it like this. The house had always been spotless even on the worst days. "After we take care of ourselves first."

They also happened to be a mess. Thomas was soaking wet with a bleeding cut along his cheek. Logan's arm was caked in blood. Virgil had a gash above his eyebrow and Roman was sure he didn't get away unscathed either.

"I think we need to give Patton some space," Logan mumbled.

Roman frowned a bit, sensing tension he was all too familiar with. "Then we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way."

"We don't have a first aid kit or anything." Thomas set the picture and frame down on the breakfast bar. The trash can had been tipped over. "I think I have a box of band-aids in my room." He paused. "I think this proves we should get a first aid kit for the house in case of emergencies."

"I have one in my car. Logan can come with me to get it." He motioned with his head for Logan to follow him.

"You have a first aid kit in your car?" Thomas gazed at him in confusion.

"Virgil's not the only paranoid one." They walked around the fallen front door.

"Never thought I'd hear that," Virgil commented under his breath.

Roman led the way down the stairs to his car. He popped the trunk to get the first aid kit in the back, but before grabbing it, he turned to Logan. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Logan looked taken aback for a moment. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I’m fine too, so that’s why I’m asking.” He sat on the bumper of his car. “From one ‘fine’ person to another.” He attempted a smile but it fell flat. “Honestly, Logan, are you really okay? I don’t want to speak for you, but with what just happened with Patton right now…" God, why was this so difficult? "I’m just trying to say, that from someone who has also gone through some traumatic experiences, you don’t have to pretend in front of me.”

Logan hesitated. He schooled his expression, but there was a break enough to show he was afraid. “I would prefer,” his words came out choppy. Like he was choosing what to say as it came out of his mouth, “to put this whole incident behind us.”

Hm. “Alright, I get that. Just know that if you ever need to stop pretending, you can come to me.”

“I… appreciate that.” He shivered and seemed momentarily confused by it.

“Yeah, that’s what cold feels like.” Roman reached into the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit. “Let’s get back inside.”

They entered the house without a word. Virgil was the only one they saw. He picked up the tipped over stools at the breakfast bar.

"Where's Thomas?" Logan asked.

"In the shower." He picked up the trash can.

"Virgil, stop trying to clean up and sit down." Roman placed the first aid kit on the bar counter. "Logan, you sit down, too. We don't want either of you getting your blood all over the place."

Virgil complied with a bit of a curious look. "Who put you in charge?"

He popped open the kit. "No one. I'm just assuming I'm the only one that knows how to use any of the stuff in here." He grabbed a washcloth from the hall closet and ran it under the sink. Almost all of Logan's arm was coated in blood (it appeared to stop actively bleeding, at least), and there was no way all of that would come off with a tiny alcohol wipe. "Okay, Logan, either you take the shirt off or I'm ruining the rest of that sleeve."

"The shirt stays on."

"Works for me." He cut the rest of the sleeve to have better access to the gashes. They looked nasty. Long lines traveling down his whole bicep to the joint of his elbow. The center of it was the deepest part. Almost deep enough to see the tissue layers. An injury like this should be treated with something a bit better than a first aid kit, but that wasn't an option. He tried to be as gentle as he could cleaning the blood. The whole cloth was stained red by the end of it. "This next part is going to sting a bit." He ripped open a packet of antiseptic.

"Ooh, look at you, Mr. Boy Scout." Virgil smirked. It didn't make his eyes twinkle with mischievousness like it always did.

"Please. I could never stand boys my age when I was younger." He began applying the bandages. "One of my brothers is an Eagle Scout, actually. I went on almost every single camping trip with him and was there for nearly every merit badge. Kinda hated it, but I got some useful information out of it." He finished. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold. He was sure Patton would heal it after he cooled off. Well, he hoped. "You should be good for now."

He did the same with Virgil and then Thomas when he got out of the shower. He almost closed up the kit and set it to the side, but Virgil stopped him and reminded him he still had to do himself.

"Or I could do it. I-I mean I could try. You can tell me what to do."

"Just clean the cut and bandage it, you dork." He slid over the kit. "It's not rocket science."

Thomas and Logan sat together in the living room after fixing it up a bit. None of the sofas were in the right spots, but that was a problem for another day. Thomas created a little hovel of blankets that he hid under for warmth. Logan had one over his shoulders that he wrapped further around himself when a cold breeze pushed its way through the gaping doorway. It was clear that the concept of feeling cold was foreign to him. It's like he didn't know what to do about it.

"We have got to fix that." Roman frowned at the doorway.

Virgil snapped the kit closed. "The hinges are busted. What are we gonna do about it?"

"We can't just leave it wide open like that."

"We're not handymen, Roman. I agree with you, but how can we fix it right now?"

"It would probably help if one of us stopped brooding and used some magic." Roman couldn't help the slight contempt that leaked into his voice.

Virgil frowned. "He has every right to be mad. I just don't understand why none of you are on his level."

Roman matched his frown. "Because we’re being reasonable. You wanted to be alone. You weren't trying to hurt anyone. He's acting like you went to Altair himself and told him our address."

“It feels like it, doesn’t it?”

Fuck that. “Virgil, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. Patton's overreacting. How could you have known that there would be a Figment there at that time? How could you have known any of this would happen? It's unfair to put blame on you when you had no idea what it would come to."

Virgil fidgeted in his seat. Roman could tell he wasn't content with that, but he didn't say anything. Neither of them spoke about it further.

Roman stayed up late that night. Well, later than usual. He didn't want to admit that sleeping with Virgil was starting to help him sleep better, but it was true. For most nights, at least. This appeared to be one of the nights it didn't work. Whether it was being upset with Patton, or the stress of doomsday, or the continuing presence of his traumatizing childhood was up for debate.

But it was probably being upset with Patton. No other reason.

How could anyone blame him? Patton threw things way out of proportion. Yeah, it's upsetting, but it isn't Virgil's fault. It wasn't as if he chose this specific outcome to happen. Ugh, if he had to keep repeating that he was going to lose his mind. It felt like he had to defend Virgil from everyone — if he didn't then who would? Not Virgil, that's for sure. He was content with getting blamed even though no one had a right to blame him in such a way.

Roman sighed and covered his face with his hands. He had no idea why he was being so defensive. It was like something else took over him the second Patton pressured Virgil. He didn't know what it was and he kind of hoped it would go away. A very small yet persistent “I told you so” buzzed in the back of his brain, but he didn’t know what it meant. Who told him so? Told him what? How was he meant to learn something from it if he didn’t even know what it was referencing?

Goddammit.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

~~~

For the first time in — well — forever, Virgil woke up before Roman. But, surprisingly, he wasn’t the first one up. The cocoon of blankets that used to house Thomas was moved over to Logan. Virgil untangled himself from Roman and stood up to look for the kid. Except he didn’t have to go very far.

Thomas sat at the breakfast bar, holding the photo from last night.

“Hey, kid,” Virgil whispered as he took a seat beside him. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Go ahead.”

Virgil tried not to be curious, but he couldn't help to let his eyes wander over to the photo. It depicted Picani in a floppy hat and bright yellow sundress with a large sunny smile. He was bent slightly to be closer to Thomas's height. If his hand was anything to go by, he was the reason Thomas's hat was backward. As for the rest of Thomas, one of his cheeks was smeared with purple paint, but his clothes had various other colors scattered about. He didn't seem to mind, as he smiled just as brightly as Picani.

"Are you doing okay?" Virgil turned his eyes to Thomas. He looked tired. Like some battle-weary soldier who wanted to go home.

"I miss him." He placed the photo on the counter but didn't look away. "I love Patton and Logan a lot, but…" He sighed, almost inaudible. "I just miss Picani. The longest I ever went without him was a few days, but now I haven't seen him in weeks. It's…" He trailed off once more and it didn't seem he knew how to pick it back up.

And Virgil didn't know how to do it, either. "We'll see him again."

"I hope so." He spared an anxious glance back at the pile of blankets that concealed Logan.

Virgil frowned, guilt sitting in his chest like a rock. He knew trying to help Logan got a lot harder. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I kind of get the feeling I ruined everything. I let Altair know where we are and he sent Dolos after us. And look at this place,” he spun on his stool to motion to the disorder. The sofas were still messed up. There was a crack in the wall where the picture frame used to be. A broken coffee table, and a door being held in place by a kitchen chair, “if Altair decided to show up himself it’d be a lot worse.”

“I know.”

“And you’re just fine with it?" He spun back around to show his disbelief. "He could come here anytime and wreck this place again — and us — and it would all be my fault. Shouldn't you pissed about that?”

“I can’t be.”

"Why not?"

"That would be hypocritical." Thomas looked him dead in the eye.

He had a cold feeling in his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

A small, sad smile made its way on his face. "I might be the only person in the world who knows exactly how you feel.” Seeming to take Virgil’s silence as a response, he continued. “I was the reason Altair found my family. The reason Picani and I had to run away.”

Virgil paused to figure out how to word that he wanted more information without being tactless, but settled on, “How?”

“An accident, really. Just a couple of kids saying magic is real.” His eyes flicked over the picture for a moment, frowning. "I'm… a little upset, but there's no way I can be mad at you. Because I did the same thing." He took the photo in his hands. "Picani understood what I did was a mistake and I didn't mean for anything to happen. I bet he'd think the same for you."

"No offense, but I hope you understand why I don’t believe that."

Thomas frowned a bit further. Before he could say anything else, Patton walked into the kitchen. He looked… well, there was no accurate way to describe him other than awful. His glasses were missing, allowing a strong contrast between his bright eyes and the dark bags beneath them. A deep scowl remained on his face as he went about his morning routine.

“Morning, Patton,” Thomas greeted softly.

Patton mumbled back a reply.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not one bit.” His eyes were on the kettle, but it didn’t seem as if he was seeing it. “I spent hours trying to find something that I could be able to do, but I just — I just don’t have that kind of power.” He leaned against the counter. “Picani is naturally good at protection magic. Unless we have him, there’s no way this house is safe.”

Thomas brought up a fake smile. "Well, we just have to be extra vigilant, then."

Patton hummed in a way that managed to sound resigned yet disapproving. "Where's Logan?"

"Over there." He tilted his head toward the sofa.

"Is he okay?"

"I, I think so." He exchanged an uncertain glance with Virgil. "He didn't seem not okay. I mean, he has those bad cuts on his arm and they kinda look like they hurt, but he didn't say anything about them."

Patton stared into the living room blankly. "I'll heal it when he wakes up."

Thomas and Virgil exchanged another glance. "Patton, maybe you should — I don't know — rest?" Thomas looked at him warily. "Is it really such a good idea to stay up this long?"

"I'm fine."

Virgil frowned. "I don't think —"

Patton glared at him.

Thomas cringed and shrunk in on himself.

Virgil had half a mind to do the same, but the most he did was avoid Patton's gaze and keep his mouth shut.

"Let me know when Logan gets up." He left the kitchen.

There were a few beats of silence before Thomas whispered, "That could have gone better."

Virgil was inclined to agree.

~~~

Roman ran his sword through the dummy's chest and dragged it up, slicing through the wood. "He's being an ass." The dummy fell to pieces. "He can't just keep ignoring you like that."

"Evidently he can." Virgil watched the dummy spring to life. "Why are you so mad about this?"

"Because I am!" He sliced it in half and turned to face Virgil. "He doesn't have any right to be acting the way he is. He's making Thomas upset, and Logan uncomfortable. And me — pissed off." He turned back to the dummy once it built itself again. "I hate being pissed off."

Virgil didn't know what to say to that.

"If he got off his high horse for a second he'd realize what a jerk he's being." Roman readied for a proper round this time. "Maybe he'd stop seeing us as an enemy that he needs to get rid of."

An enemy.

The Machai elves are warriors, Virgil's mind provided him, feared creatures that don't back down from a fight. Is that what this was, then? A fight? Was Patton going back to his roots as a feared warrior to ensure his family's safety? Were he and Roman no longer considered apart of it? Or maybe just Virgil. After all, Virgil was the one to show Altair where they were hiding.

Roman, in a move Virgil was sure wasn't taught to him, evaded the dummy's pursuits to end up at its back. He flipped the sword in his hand with expert ease so it ran along his arm, and jabbed it behind him. The blade pierced through its stomach. "I told you we couldn't trust a Machai elf."

"I know," Virgil responded before his brain could catch up. Once he realized what the fuck just happened, he uttered a stupified and genuine, "wait, what?"

"What?" Roman looked at Virgil in confusion until he, too, was hit by realization. But it fell back to confusion. "Why did I do that?"

Virgil stared in shock before regaining his composure. "Objective complete." The dummies crumpled.

"I don't know why I said that." Roman seemed more confused by the second. "I, I've never thought — I don't know — why did that happen?"

Virgil stood up and walked toward him. "Tell me what you're feeling."

"I-I mean I'm confused —"

"No." Virgil grabbed Roman's free hand. "What are you feeling?"

"I…"

This wasn't the first time the two had a conversation like this, and it didn't seem it would ever be the last. "You know what I mean."

Roman hesitated, keeping his eyes trained on their hands. "I'm… I'm mad at myself. For letting this happen." He adjusted his hand to hold Virgil's a slightly different way. It was familiar. Like a distant memory. A dream. "I-it just, it feels like I should know better, or that I was waiting the whole time for something like this to happen. I don't… I don't get it."

Virgil didn’t quite get it, either. This was still a new and unpredictable thing for them. “Is there anything else?”

“Uh…" The tips of his ears burned a bright pink. "No.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Oh, like you’re any better.” Roman tried to pry his hand away, but Virgil held it tight.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I don’t experience all of this, this —” what was there to even call it? What was it? — “memory stuff the same way you do, but we’re in this together.” He put his other hand around Roman’s fist. “Whatever happened back then isn't going to happen now. We're going to be okay."

Roman looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last. And Virgil received another jolt of familiarity. Like something he hadn't seen in many years was finally being returned to him. It caused him to lose his breath. He had seen Roman's eyes before, several times, but in this instance — in this context — it was different. It meant so much more to something deep inside him. And then he realized he was staring at Roman like a wide-eyed idiot. But before he could find his voice, someone cleared their throat.

Logan stood there with a raised brow and a faint smile. He wore one of Picani’s pullover hoodies, which was a first, but it was much chillier today than yesterday. And since he was able to feel temperatures now, he needed something to keep him warm. Even if it was an oversized, pink hoodie. “Am I interrupting something?”

Roman and Virgil jumped away from each other, Virgil ripping his hands back the same way a child would drop evidence of being in the cookie jar. They rushed out a frantic and unbelievable, “No.”

It didn’t seem Logan cared all that much, however. “Be that as it may, it is rather convenient to find both of you here. I have something important to discuss.”

Important? That didn’t sound good.

“What’s up?” Roman pushed his bracelet back to his wrist, his sword vanishing from his hand.

And then Logan hesitated, which made Virgil’s stomach do a flip. However, it was more a hesitation for thought than reluctance. “Thomas needs to learn how to properly defend himself. If this trend of growing danger continues, he needs to be able to handle it on his own if it ever comes to that.” He adjusted his glasses. A rather telling nervous habit. “Considering Patton’s, uh, current reluctance, I feel you two are the obvious next choice.”

“Obvious?” Virgil couldn’t help the twinge of skepticism in his voice.

“Yeah, for once I think I agree with Virgil’s cynicism.” Roman put a hand on his hip. His tone was jovial and a bit sarcastic when he said, “I didn’t think you’d let us teach Thomas anything unless you thought you were dying.”

Logan didn’t react. Didn’t smile, didn’t frown, and didn’t deny it.

All joking manners seeped out of Roman. He stared wide-eyed at the tiny mage before him, who somehow seemed even smaller with the shadow of death looming over him. “Oh my God, you think you’re dying.”

“It is necessary that he receives training as soon as possible,” Logan continued, blatantly ignoring Roman. “It would be easiest if you were the ones to do it.”

“You mean it would be easier on him when you’re gone.” Virgil didn’t mean for it to come out so bitter, but he couldn’t believe it. Logan was accepting his fate as if it were a hundred percent possibility. And while yes, Virgil couldn’t deny that Logan surviving was a tiny sliver of hope to hold onto, it was still there.

Logan made a face Virgil couldn’t decipher. “Even if I wanted, I am unable to.” He briefly placed his hand over the injury on his arm. Roman replaced the bandages this morning. “I can’t move much.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at the place the gashes would be under the hoodie. Since the dream and the incident with Brigida, seeing Logan bloodied was… not a favorite pastime of Virgil. To say the least.

“Weren’t you supposed to see Patton about that?” Roman asked.

“Yes.” He hesitated again, but this time out of nervousness. “But I could sense his anger before I even entered the room and decided it would be best to leave it be for the time being.”

Roman scowled. "I'm going down there."

Virgil caught his arm. "Cool it." He didn't want them at each other's throats. "Getting back on track here — Logan, you can't admit defeat already. There's still time."

Logan stared at him. Eyes are the windows to the soul as they say, and Logan was never an exception. They always showed what was going on on the inside. Right now, clear as day, Virgil could see just… solemn acceptance. Logan didn't expect to live for much longer. He took it as fact. There was no amount of convincing that would get him to see otherwise.

"It would mean everything to me," his words crawled out slow and tired, "if you two decided to do this. We can't always be there to protect him and I-I just… I just want him to have a chance."

Virgil felt Roman squeeze his hand. Virgil squeezed back. "We'll do our best."

Logan nodded, clenching his mouth shut tight.

They pretended they didn't see the sheen of tears in his eyes as he left.

~~~

Two days.

It had been two days since Patton blew up at Virgil, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. For Virgil, at least. Patton toned down his bitterness for Thomas, Logan, and even Roman. But Virgil still had to deal with the anger and silent treatment. It was kind of making him lose his mind.

He didn't know what he was meant to do. No amount of logical perspective from Logan or gentle reasoning from Thomas would make Patton cut it out. It wasn't fair. He wouldn't give Virgil a chance. That's all Virgil wanted. A chance. How was he meant to apologize if Patton wouldn't give him the time of day?

Fortunately for him, a blessing revealed itself in the form of the Theorist.

The one and only time Virgil was glad to see the damn bastard.

"Someone gave me a tip," he explained as he took a seat beside Roman. "Anonymously, of course. Not how I prefer it, but information is information.”

“Anything useful?” Roman asked as Virgil fulfilled a request of a bar patron.

Ever since that night seeing Patton's future, the Theorist would stop by more often. They’d exchange news, if any, and then he’d leave. Off to do whatever the hell he does. He was stupidly mysterious — far too dramatic for his own good — but it made Virgil wonder what a black market Seer does on his off-time. Or his on-time. How exactly does he operate?

“Depends on your definition of useful.” The Theorist frowned a bit. “It feels more like a rumor than anything else.”

“Rumors can hold a bit of truth sometimes,” Virgil grumbled. “Out with it.”

He earned an exasperated sigh for that, but also the point. “They say Altair’s camping out nearby. Probably wants to be close after that little break-in incident of yours.” He shrugged. “But who knows the real reason, if any. If you can’t understand someone’s motives, there’s no point driving yourself mad over it.”

Virgil paused, mulling over the guilt and the silent treatment and the ticking time bomb that was Logan. “Do you know where?”

Both the Theorist and Roman gawked at him. “You’re not actually going to look, are you?” The Theorist hissed in an incredulous tone. “There are no facts — no evidence. This could very well be a trap. Altair’s getting impatient and he’s done waiting around for Logan to just die. He could be trying to lure all of you out.”

“Then I’ll be the only one to go.”

Roman made a soft, startled choking sound. “Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil sighed. “Roman.”

“No, Virgil. We don’t know anything about the person who dropped the tip or even if it’s true. Did you forget that the last time we followed an anonymous tip we almost died?”

“Well, what if this one is true?” Virgil tried to keep his voice down. No one else needed to know of their escapades. “We’re just going to wait for Altair to do something when we have a chance to stop him?”

“I’d listen to him, Virgil,” the Theorist shifted in his seat, “we don’t know anything about this, and if it’s a trap, it would be dangerous to go on your own.”

“We won’t know what it is unless someone investigates.”

“Then we’ll figure something out,” Roman pleaded.

“I have to be the one to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the one that messed up. I’m the one that put all of us in danger. I’m the one Patton is pissed at, and I need to make it up somehow!” The last sentence came out louder than he intended. Several people turned their heads to look at him. He stared, frozen, before ducking his head to avoid their gazes. “If you don’t give me what you know,” he said in a low, serious voice. “I’ll find it out myself.”

The Theorist scowled, not happy with this ultimatum, but he also wasn’t an idiot. “That little shop a few buildings down. It’s closed for renovations. Supposedly.”

“Wha — you —” Roman was stuck between betrayal and disbelief — “am I the only one still against this?”

“Roman, it’s gonna happen whether you like it or not.”

Roman stopped, an unreadable expression blooming on his face until it dissolved to a hard frown. “Then I’m going with you.”

Virgil blinked, mind slow to process what transpired seconds ago. “You… why?”

“I told you already. You’re my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to stick with you.”

And if Virgil felt something flutter in his chest at that, he ignored it.

“That’s almost sweet enough to make me sick," the Theorist commented with a coy smile. "Now, if you're done with your suicide pact, I'm gonna head out." He slid a paper across the counter to Virgil. "Do me a favor and text me after you get done so I know whether or not I should stop by next time." He slid off the stool and called back before leaving, "I don't do phone calls."

Neither did Virgil. He picked up the paper with a raised brow. When did he have time to write this? Whatever. Virgil shoved it in his pocket all the same.

"He has a weird way of hitting on you."

"If you say something like that again I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

The following afternoon, Virgil and Roman set out on their task. Virgil insisted that they not tell anybody. If the others knew then they'd try to tag along and Virgil couldn't have that. He was doing this to help them.

On the outside, the little store didn't appear out of the ordinary. It was a store closed for renovation. Nothing more or less about it. Supposedly. On the inside, it could be a very different story. But they had to get in to find out.

"How —?" Virgil was cut off by Roman covering his mouth.

"Don't say anything," he whispered. "The less you say the better. And try to look like you know what you're doing. No one questions confidence." He dropped his hand.

Virgil kept his mouth shut, but tried to convey his best, "what the fuck are you going on about?" look.

Roman simply smirked. "Come on." He strolled down the alley as if he had no better place to be. Virgil had no choice but to follow him.

They stumbled upon a little window near the back. It would be big enough for them to squeeze through, but not by much. Roman did a quick survey of the rest of the place, just to see, and confirmed this was their only way in. He also noted that there was a surprising lack of people for a place that was meant to be under renovations.

Virgil watched with mild fascination as Roman took control of the situation. He studied the window on his tip-toes before seeming to decide what to do with it. And the fascination grew as, with practiced ease, Roman went about forcing it open with an abandoned piece of scrap metal. Virgil had half a mind to warn him about tetanus before the window was opened, silencing any remark he was going to make.

Well. The sarcastic ones, at least.

“How the hell do you know how to do that?”

Roman gave him another smirk. The damn cheeky bastard. “If you’re locked out of the house a lot, you figure out ways to get back in.” He stepped back and motioned to the window with an almost regal half bow. “After you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes but heaved himself through the window anyway. Roman was a step behind.

They were in what must have been a washroom of sorts. Or maybe a laundry room. There was piping sticking out with hard floors and tiled walls. But no people. Staying quiet, they crept out of the room and down the hall. It wasn’t until the main room that they spotted anyone. A man, or rather, a Figment who took the appearance of a man. He wore an outfit from the 20s. The only reason Virgil could tell for sure was due to the resemblance of the outfits Logan and Patton first wore. But other than him, there was no one else.

Roman and Virgil shared a glance that seemed to convey the same, “well, at least we checked it out” mentality. The Figment was the only thing in the room worth of importance, as well. Nothing else stood out. Nothing else screamed evil or magic or both. It was a normal room with a bored-looking Figment messing with scraps left behind from an actual renovation. Altair, or any evidence of him, wasn't to be found.

“It’s rude to sneak around, boys,” a voice hissed behind them with a touch of amusement.

They both froze. It took them longer than they’d care to admit to get over the horrified shock and turn around. Before them stood a woman, a bit taller than average, with a wide smirk that showed off some sharp canines. If she came out of an 80s fashion magazine, Virgil would have believed it. And that was a bad sign.

“Oh,” she cooed as if addressing a stray animal. “You’re the humans. Gosh, look at how cute and fragile you are.” She walked forward, pushing them back and into the main room.

This was an even worse sign.

She acted… normal. Like a real person. Like Arlene and Brigida and Dolos. Created to always be slightly wrong, but more accurate than the first Figments they ever saw. And while that was very shitty, there still came the even shittier question… how the hell were there two of them?

The other one in question was right behind them now.

“I would love nothin’ more than to just squeeze you until you pop.” She clenched her hands into fists and scrunched her nose. "But I can't do that quite yet." Her eyes shifted up to the taller Figment. "Grab them."

That was enough to set things into motion. It all happened too fast for Virgil to keep up with. One second he was by Roman's side, the next they were separated with weapons drawn. The man followed after Roman while the woman stuck with Virgil.

She was different. So very different than any Magus Virgil had met so far. There was an air to her that told Virgil's most primal instincts to run away. Not in the same way a normal Figment caused. No, a normal Figment caused unabashed dread and fear like a coiled spring. What she caused was an instant fight or flight reflex. And the way she moved. It was… animalistic. Like Virgil was the prey and she the predator.

Hell, maybe she was.

In a quick flash, something shot out from her hand and towards Virgil's foot. He almost fell over when it hit. Not because it pushed him, but because it stopped his momentum. What the fuck. He paused to stare at it, confused when it looked like —

"Spider web?" He turned his eyes up to his pursuer, who stopped to smile at him. All teeth.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, six more joined the movement. Positioned on each side of her face in rows. "You don't happen to be afraid of spiders, do you?"

"I prefer when they're nice." Virgil cut his foot free and took off.

She made a noise between a hiss and a growl before following him. She blinked, and her extra eyes vanished as if they were never there in the first place.

He almost staggered to a stop when he saw Roman get his sword yanked from his hand and tossed to the side. He didn't though. "Roman, are you okay?"

Roman remained on the ground. "It's like trying to fight Ty Lee," he groaned.

Great. Virgil didn't get a chance to help him. Another web caught his foot. This time he crashed to the floor. He cursed under his breath. For one, both of his daggers slid across the floor which left him simultaneously defenseless and deaf (the sudden, jarring sound of hearing things clearly was never pleasant). For another thing, his body fell forward while his foot stayed in place. Talk about a major owie.

"Virgil!" Roman moved out of the way of his own sword. His movements were stiff and sluggish, but not sluggish enough to be held down. He ran over to Virgil to help him up. "How the —?"

"My daggers." Virgil pointed uselessly at the floor. He almost fell over again without Roman to support him. Roman pressed one into his hand but kept the other. That might have been for the best.

"Aw, you guys are cuter than I thought," the Figment purred. Once Roman heard her, he was at Virgil's back to defend him. "Even when faced with defeat, you still put up a fight."

"No one's defeated yet," Roman countered.

He just had to open his stupid mouth.

Virgil felt webbing wrap around his torso, securing him to Roman with both their arms pinned to their sides.

"Fuck," Roman cursed softly like a bitter regret.

Indeed.

She approached them and snatched the daggers out of their hands as if neither of them had a death grip on it. To pour salt into the wound, she dropped them both at her feet. Within eyesight, but out of reach. "It would be so easy to squeeze you both right now." She walked around them, keeping her hands on her expanding web. "I'd give anything for it."

The other Figment simply stood by like a guarding statue.

"I don't think I remember this Spider-Man origin story," Roman quipped.

A short laugh left her grinning lips. "Inspiration had to come from somewhere, sugar." She stepped back, satisfied with the cocoon she trapped them in.

"What's stopping you from killing us?" Virgil asked. He hated everything about this situation.

"Self-restraint, really. But most of all, it ain't wise to kill bait." She shot a thick rope of webbing to the bottom of the cocoon.

"Bait?"

"Of course." She sent him a smile. "We need three others." The other rope of web went straight to the ceiling. She bent down to remove the webbing keeping them stuck to the ground, and then there they were. Hanging from a ceiling.

Ignoring the head rush and vertigo, Virgil retained his annoyed cadence. "You're going to wait forever, then. They don't even know we're here." He felt Roman stiffen against his back. Oh no. "Right, Roman?"

It took a second for him to respond. That second of silence was all Virgil needed to know. "I may have, uh, mentioned it to Thomas."

Goddammit.

"Look, I don't even have to see you to know that you're doing the 'Roman-how-could-you' face, but someone needed to know what happened to us if anything went south. You can't just charge headfirst into battle without backup."

Virgil grit his teeth. That was a solid point, but he was too upset to care.

"Lovely. It's only a matter of time, then."

Roman took a breath that signified a long-winded rant, and Virgil tuned him out on an automatic impulse. Roman's rants always consisted of exaggerated scenarios and how someone was wrong in many, interesting ways. This particular rant had a lot more curse words strewn about, some creative, and far more personal attacks on their captors. Virgil didn't think they cared about that.

The Figment pointed a finger gun at Roman, closed one eye as if taking aim, then a soft, "Pew," left her mouth as her hand mimicked the action. A gob of webs hit him right in the mouth.

Roman paused if only to process the turn of events then continued on his rant, muffled this time.

A quiet sigh escaped Virgil. This was all his fault. He should have listened to the Theorist. He should have listened to Roman. Now they were stuck here with an 80s, off-brand Spider-Gwen, and her stony-faced companion.

Not that he had time to stew in his self-pity for long.

The front doors burst open. Logan and Patton rushed in but didn't get very far passed the doorway. The webs on the floor tightened around their ankles like a Looney Tunes trap, binding them together. And much like a Looney Tunes trap, it sent them sailing in a direction they didn't want to be. Which in this case was hanging from the ceiling. Logan's pommel had fallen from his hand from the movement, and almost as soon as they were fixed in that position, the webs started crawling and wrapping their way up.

"Great," Patton huffed, crossing his arms. He grumbled something under his breath about hating spiders.

Despite the circumstances, Logan only seemed annoyed and inconvenienced by his predicament.

"Ooh, look what we have here," Gwen approached the other two with a large fanged grin. "Wait until the boss gets a load of this." She turned that grin to her compatriot, placing her hands on her hips. "Four outta five ain't bad."

Patton growled. "Over my dead body."

"You're getting ahead of us, elf." She spat out the word like it was venom on her tongue. "The boss wants to take care of y'all personally." Her eyes flicked over to Logan, narrowing in suspicion. "Is this the one all the fuss was about? You don't look like much."

"The spider said to the frog," Logan said in the most verbal form of an eye roll that Virgil has ever heard.

Gwen scoffed. She walked away from them and toward her partner. "C'mon, we need to tell the boss." She led the way to the back of the room.

Patton growled again, more annoyed this time. “Virgil.”

Oh, boy, here we go again. “So you’re talking to me now?” He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

Patton gave him a look that told him to shut up without any words necessary. “Don't start with that. You and Roman decided to go off on your own without telling anyone. Do you understand how dangerous that is? You both could have been killed.”

Roman made angry muffled noises.

Virgil agreed. “We were only coming to check it out. We heard that Altair might be here, and rather than dragging you all to a false alarm, I decided to see for myself and Roman stuck with me. I was doing it to help.”

Logan opened his mouth as if to step in, but closed it without uttering a sound.

“I think you’ve done enough helping already,” Patton bit back.

Virgil wasn’t sure if it was the blood pooling to the top of his skull or the rising anger, but his cheeks were on fire. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. I didn’t intend for a Figment to follow me and give away our location, and I didn’t intend to be trapped in a spider web like a damn fly. None of it was on purpose. I didn’t want any of it to happen.”

“Then you should have stayed put!”

Okay. Okay. That was enough. “What do I have to do for you?!” He ignored the questioning and alarmed hum Roman gave him. “I’ve apologized — I’ve done nothing but say sorry to you — but that’s still not enough! What will get you to trust me again? What do I have to do to get you to understand? I did this so you would forgive me because I’m fucking sorry, alright?” Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, so he closed them, taking in a soft breath as well. “I’m so sorry.”

He continued to take purposeful breaths as to not burst into tears. God, he was pathetic when he was angry. “I just want… I need to make it up to you. Somehow. I would never do any of this on purpose. I have to do something to make you understand that.” He kept his eyes screwed shut. He couldn’t look at anyone. He didn’t want to. If he did, it would no doubt make the waterworks flow.

But a bright light in front of his eyelids made him snap them open.

The light slipped out of the webbing where Patton and Logan were and dropped to the floor. As it stood up, it morphed into Picani. Well, almost. He seemed more off than last time. Still with those mismatched eyes and mashed up clothes, but distinctly more… Patton. Something emphasized a bit more due to the menacing scowl on his face.

The Figments soon noticed the entrance of a new contender. Gwen turned with a sneer. “Abomination.”

Picani didn’t even flinch. “Normally I'd disagree.” He tossed up the pommel and snatched it out of the air when it turned to that familiar sword. "But this time I think you might be right." The action was so very Logan, but more articulated. Like this body wasn’t used to the movement and therefore couldn’t do it as smooth or as elegant as Logan did.

In the back of Virgil’s mind, he registered Roman wriggling around, but he didn’t put much thought into it. He kept his focus on Picani. The way he fought was like two people working together rather than one, with distinct styles of Logan and Patton popping up. This isn’t how it looked back with Brigida. There wasn’t any distinction when he fought with Brigida. He moved like one person. As if he had always been one person. Something changed.

Right as the stoic one moved to use Roman’s sword, it vanished from his hands. Virgil had a fraction of a second to think, "bracelet!" before the blade of a sword shot out of the web cocoon. Oh, Roman, you beautiful bastard.

“Roman, you’re a fucking genius,” Virgil cried out as Roman got to work on sawing away at the webs. It no doubt was a strenuous task what with the limited movement and weird angle and all.

Roman gave him a happy, proud hum.

After many minutes cutting away (and Virgil trying his best to help by pulling at the webbing), they broke free. They fell to the floor rather ungracefully, and with strings of web still sticking to them, but at least they weren’t trapped. Roman pushed his bracelet to his wrist and the sword vanished. He worked on prying the webbing off his face. Virgil scooped up his daggers, ready to help Picani if need be. Except he didn’t have to.

Weeds were wrapped around the Figments, coiling and squeezing tighter and tighter like a hungry snake until — well — until there were no more Figments. They popped into familiar plumes of smoke and Picani fell to his knees with the weeds following after. He heaved and gasped for air. And Virgil was on his feet in an instant despite the faint throbbing in his ankle.

“Picani.” His hands hovered near him, unsure and nervous. He didn’t know what would help or even if he should help at all.

“We don’t need —” Picani cut himself off. His conjoined voices were leaning towards the Patton side. He sounded angry. After a shuddering breath, he tried again, more gentle, “I-I’m sorry.” He curled his hands into fists. “I-I’m not e-exactly myself right n-now.” A puff of laughter. Broken. Fragile.

“Are you okay?” He took notice of Roman stepping next to him.

“N-not in the s-slightest.” He sat back on his legs, breath still shuddering. “We c-can’t hold it. W-we’re splitting apart — I-I can feel it. It hurts.” He wrapped his arms around himself as if that would keep him together.

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to imagine how that felt — feeling yourself pull apart. “Then unfuse.”

“Not yet.” He looked up at Virgil. His eyes, despite being a clear distinction of two people’s, both displayed a genuine need for understanding. “Virgil, we…” He shook his head. “I. I-I am so very s-sorry. I’m trying… From, from whatever p-part of me in here that’s still Picani, I-I want you to know that I-I’m not mad. I understand it w-was a mistake. Patton is —” He gasped, arms tightening around himself — “h-he’s just afraid. We’re b-both terrified. Everything feels l-like it’s falling apart around us a-and…” A steady sigh left his lips. “Th-that isn’t the point. The point is, I-I don’t bl-blame you. You sh-shouldn’t have to apologize for something that wasn’t your f-fault.”

The only thought passing through Virgil’s head was Thomas was right. Of course he was. Thomas knew Picani better than anybody. It was dumb to ever doubt that. “Try telling that to Patton.”

A soft laugh leaked out of him. “I th-think he’ll be swayed.” As the words left his mouth, a drop of ink rolled out from his left eye. His faint amusement fell off his face, and he brought a hand to his cheek. More drops began to roll out like stained tears. He stared at his hand with wide, horrified eyes. The ink stayed smeared on his cheek where he had touched it.

Fuck.

Virgil tried not to throw up from the sheer anxiety he felt. His dream. Logan had black ink spilling from his eyes. He also said some rather gut-wrenching words, but that wasn’t applicable at this moment.

No one had the time to get over their horror, however. Picani clutched at his chest. His strangled scream was cut off with a quick flash of light and something that sounded eerily like the crack of electricity. Patton and Logan collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

An alarmed, “Shit,” left Virgil’s mouth at the same time Roman cried, “Guys!"

They ran over to the pair. They appeared to be breathing, at least.

"Well, what the fuck do we do now?" Roman turned to Virgil. "Are they okay?"

"I don't know!" He didn't mean to shout, but all his nerves were on high alert. “I have the same damn information that you do.”

“There’s no need to be so crude about it.”

“Roman —!”

A soft groan pulled them out of their panic. Patton's eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. He muttered, somewhat winded, "What just happened?"

"We were kind of hoping that at least you would know," Roman answered.

Patton sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "It feels like I exploded." He drew his hands back to look at them. Clean. As he slowly sat up, he already seemed back to his normal self. No evidence that anything happened to him a mere seconds prior. “Logan.” He hurried over to him.

“Is he okay?”

Patton placed a hand on his chest, mouth twitching in a frown. “If by ‘okay’, you mean alive, then yes.” He moved his hand to his cheek. “Logan — hey. You gotta wake up.” Nothing. “Logan, louljet, come on. We have to move.” When he didn’t even stir, Patton let out a near-silent, “please.”

“I don’t think he’s getting up,” Virgil said softly.

“Gemati.” Patton sighed in defeat. He pushed Logan’s bangs out of his face. “You’re right. We have to get out of here before anyone else comes.” He scooped Logan into his arms and lifted him as if he weighed nothing.

When they got back to the house, Logan continued to remain unconscious. That was a problem. Virgil knew very little about health, but he knew enough to know that remaining unconscious for this long didn’t bode well. Patton laid him on the sofa and sat beside him. Roman sat close by to talk to Patton in a hushed, concerned voice.

Virgil ignored them. He turned away, focusing his attention on anything that wasn’t Logan. He couldn't do this. Logan, laying there, looking closer to death than he ever had before… Virgil couldn't take it. He had seen this too many times. There were too many scenarios in which something similar to this occurred, and all Virgil could do was pray that this was one of the good ones. He didn't know what he'd do if… if…

God, Anxiety had a point, didn't he?

No matter what Virgil did, it didn't seem to take Logan any farther away from his deathbed. If this incident proved anything, all he did was bring him closer to it. And that — that hurt. He didn't want to be the cause of Logan's death. He didn't want that horrible dream to come true. He wanted to make things better. He needed to make things better. There was no way in hell Virgil would let Logan die because of him. No. There was no way in hell Virgil would let Logan die — period. If he had to sell his soul to fucking Satan himself he would do it.

He was going to save this goddamn family even if it killed him.

Speaking of…

"Where's Thomas?" Virgil allowed himself to look back. Logan still hadn't woken up, and it didn't seem to be getting any better.

"With Joan and Talyn." Patton pulled his hands away from Logan's chest, the blue glow fading from his palms. He sighed. "Nothing's working."

“Maybe we just have to wait and see,” Roman said rather solemnly.

Patton didn’t like that but relented regardless. If he couldn’t do anything as the one person in this house with magic, then there was nothing to be done. He gathered Logan’s hands in his own and squeezed them. He whispered something in his native language, almost like a prayer, then bent down to kiss Logan’s forehead. “I need a drink,” he sighed.

Roman followed him into the kitchen wordlessly.

Virgil stayed where he was. Waiting wasn’t easy no matter what you were waiting for. It was worse if you didn’t know when the waiting would stop. But the beauty of waiting is that it always stopped. In one way or another, at least. Sometimes it stopped in a way you didn’t want it to. Sometimes what you wait for isn’t what you’re expecting. Or, worse yet, it comes out slightly wrong. Twisted. It’s what you asked for, but not in the way it was meant to be. Like fate was playing some cruel joke on you because you waited — obedient, patient — for a reward you thought yourself entitled to.

Or perhaps you just had shit luck.

Logan cried out in pain. A sharp, desperate sound that made Virgil’s blood run cold. If it could have gone any colder it would have. Since the next thing that happened didn’t seem entirely possible. Logan — his body — vanished into thin air. For a second. He reappeared with a pained groan. And then it happened again. And again. And again. It came in quick random successions. His body just… flickered. It flickered in and out of existence like a flame in the wind. At the same time, black ink began to creep up his neck. Similar to other times it bubbled and swirled along his skin — except this time it wasn't isolated on his wrist.

Virgil faintly registered Patton shouting. Maybe Roman, too? He couldn't tell. Everything went quiet except his ragged breathing — the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't look away no matter how much he wanted to. And he wanted to so bad. He didn't know what was happening. No one did. They all hovered around Logan, lost and afraid and — fuck — what was happening?

Then it stopped.

As quick and as random as it happened, it stopped. Logan shot up, gasping as if woken up from a horrid dream. All the black ink under his skin seeped back beneath his sleeve. "I-I'm okay," he rasped, not at all sounding okay. "I'm okay."

Patton had his jaw clenched tight. Once he was able to process, he let out a heartfelt and gutted, "Fuck." He hugged Logan. He cradled the back of his head and held him like it would be the last time he ever did so. "God, I —" He choked on a sob and buried his face in Logan's shoulder.

Virgil grabbed Roman's hand.

(Next)

#i hope you all appreciate #the 20 minutes i took #to italicize everything that needed it #because tumblr sucks #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #unsympathetic patton #violence tw #blood mention #injury description #body horror tw #made of love

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