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i-am-bella-donna · 1 year

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When I Am Gone Chapter 2: Plea

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Story Summary:

Janus knew he could not take much more of this. The constant fear and walking on eggshells—it was wearing him down. He needed an out, and quickly.

But that would mean leaving Remus behind.

Besides—who would believe Janus if he asked for help?

Chapter Summary:

Desperate for advice, Janus seeks out an unexpected source of aid.

Pairings: Platonic Anxceit, Platonic Dukeceit

Word Count: 1,874

CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

A/N: Chapter Theme Song: NVM by Faith Marie

So…I am not dead!

With that said, I am very sorry for the long wait. This past year has been…interesting. I am literally posting this chapter in the dark during a four-hour bus ride.

Enjoy!

~~~

Janus had many regrets in his existence as a Side.

He regretted not revealing himself to Thomas sooner, even though it would have resulted in an inevitable punishment. He regretted doing nothing when he caught Virgil sneaking over to the Light Mindscape, even though there was little he could have done to control the actions of a man seven years his senior—especially when he himself had only been sixteen.

He most certainly regretted allowing Remus to convince him that mud cake would make a good idea for dessert.

But as he rocked on his heels outside Virgil’s door, his hand positioned to knock, he regretted thinking that this conversation would ever be a good idea.

What if Virgil gets mad? screeched a tiny voice in the back of his mind, deafening in comparison to the silence of the hallway.

Although…what was the likelihood of Virgil getting angry over a simple question? Virgil could be irritable, but he was far from unreasonable—

What if he gets mad at you for waking him up? his mind challenged. Or what if he gets mad because, you know, he hatesyou? Those are both perfectly reasonable explanations.

Janus gulped and scrubbed at his face with his other hand. Seriously, what makes you think he’ll actually give you advice?

He shuddered—not completely from the cold—as all the ways that Virgil might react began to play through his mind. He imagined Virgil glaring at him in annoyance and biting out a scornful, “What do you want me to do about it?” He imagined Virgil rolling his eyes and instructing him to stop making such a large deal over an issue so trivial. Or—

Janus snatched his hand back as his breath hitched.

He imagined Virgil spitting in his face and hissing that Janus deserved it. Deserved all of what he received.

“Is everything okay?”

Startled, Janus snapped his head up, expecting to see Virgil standing right before him—only to be met with the sight of the still-closed door. His confusion was interrupted as Virgil spoke up again.

“Sorry to cut in,” Virgil continued through the door, his voice soft with empathy in a way Janus had not heard in years. “Just…well, you’ve been standing outside my door for a while, and your anxiety is really strong. You don’t have to, but…do you wanna talk about it?”

Unable to tear his eyes away from the door, Janus set a palm against the cold wood. His chest was rising and falling far too quickly for comfort. Every breath was a stab to his lungs.

Surely Virgil was not being serious. Surely he had not just invited Janus, his self-proclaimed worst enemy, into his bedroom. To talk about emotions, no less.

But Janus had not detected a lie.

“Shit, sorry—that just made it worse, didn’t it?” Virgil cut into his thoughts. Janus could practically hear him running his hands through his hair. “I—look. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I can’t tell who you are right now because it’s three in the morning and my reading is super muddled”—oh—“but no matter who’s out there, I promise not to judge.”

Janus held his breath and dared to hope. It almost sounded too good to be true—

“If you’re Patton, then Pat, you already agreed to stop repressing your feelings. If you’re Logan, then you yourself said that talking about emotions is useful. When Remus showed up, remember? And if you’re Roman—dude. I could handle you when you were going through coffee withdrawal. This is nothing, trust me.”

—and it was.

Janus wilted. Internally, he could feel his heart…sinking was not the right word. Collapsing was more accurate.

Virgil had not even considered him, but Janus should have foreseen this outcome. What reason did Virgil have not to immediately send him of all Sides away?

“Okay—I’m really sorry about this, but I wanna make sure you aren’t having a panic attack right now, so…I’m just gonna open the door.”

Shit!

Janus could only stand frozen as fear flooded his body; bare feet glued to the floor as the door creaked open.

Janus stared. Virgil stared back.

Barely a heartbeat passed before the expression of the latter shifted—switching from gentle to shocked to furious.

Janus gulped and stepped backward.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil growled, his eyes darkening and his voice demonic. Janus scrambled for an explanation, but before he could string two words together, Virgil was shaking his head and scoffing. “Get out of here, you bastard,” he said more softly, eyes darting to the other doors in the hallway before he slammed his own dark violet door shut.

Please—

Janus could hear his heart hammering and his blood rushing. He was trembling madly. Every inch of him was screaming at him to run and hide before Virgil could slap him—

Wait.

What?

Actually—no. Now was not the time.

Janus forced himself to shuffle forward. Sucking in an unsteady breath, he knocked tentatively on the door.

Silence.

He licked his lips and tasted blood. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Virgil, please…”

He turned and leaned back against the door, slumping and hugging himself tightly as he tried not to let the tidal wave of hopelessness overwhelm him. Of course his plan had been an egregious failure. He should have foreseen this outcome and remained in his room. What had he been thinking? It would have been pointless to ask for help.

Pointless to hope that his circumstances could improve.

Janus would just have to weather the storm alone. Leave Remus. Move over to the Light Mindscape—a place he knew he was unwanted—and disrupt their peace. Be as self-absorbed and self-centered as always.

You’re a fucking monster.

He swallowed hard and dug the heels of his palms into his burning eyes. Shame washed over him, a twin to his guilt.

…Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just gave up.

Before he fell down that rabbit hole, though, he found himself falling in a much more literal sense.

His breath froze in his lungs.

Janus braced himself for the wave of pain that would tear through his body, only for two unexpected hands to shoot out and loop under his shoulders just before he could hit the ground.

“Fuck,” came the exasperated mutter from above.

He hesitantly looked up to see two stormy eyes glowering at him, the light from beyond the half-open door making the face in question appear to be glowing. He could only gape as Virgil lowered him to the ground, a touch of gentleness in his motions—although it was so faint that Janus was almost certainly imagining it. Why would Virgil of all Sides be gentle with him?

It was three in the morning—his mind was most likely the culprit. Who had good judgment at three in the goddamn morning? Certainly not Janus.

He was yanked from his thoughts as Virgil kicked his legs into the room and shut the door behind them, stepping over Janus and walking deeper inside.

“Just…come in,” Virgil grumbled over his shoulder.

Janus blinked at the ceiling, taking slow breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Virgil was going to…hear him out? To actually give him a chance to explain himself?

Before he could think too much of it, Virgil cleared his throat. “So…did you come here for a reason? Or did you just want to get your snake slime all over my floor?” Despite the previous sliver of kindness, his words dripped with venom. “I brought you in here to keep you from disturbing anyone else, but I don’t have all night. What do you want?”

Any hope flickering in his chest immediately winked out, realization washing over him like icy water. Virgil had only invited him in as the means to an end. Of course. It made perfect sense—after all this time, why would Virgil care about him?

Slowly and with an attempt to regain as much dignity as possible, Janus pushed himself onto his feet. He silently cursed the tremors that had started up again, hoping that Virgil would not notice.

Janus was not so lucky.

Virgil paused as his gaze locked onto Janus, some of the anger in his eyes dissolving. Nevertheless, his stare continued to burn like matches held to his skin. Janus swallowed, regretting his decision to come over.

I take it back—I want out.

“I apologize for disturbing you, Virgil,” Janus said as evenly as he was able. “I can get out of your hair—”

“Not so fast,” Virgil interrupted, crossing his arms and leveling Janus with a stern—but surprisingly not angry—expression. Janus tensed, not daring to move a muscle as a beat passed in silence. Virgil finally sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Look—I’m not handling this right.”

Janus could only blink at the unexpected change in his countenance. Even his panic was momentarily muted by surprise.

“I know we…don’t exactly get along anymore, but I would never leave anyone alone like this. Not this anxious. For some bullshit reason, you came over here. So…yeah. Just spit it out.” Virgil dropped onto the edge of his bed, rubbing a hand down his face. “We can talk about the issue tonight, and we can go back to hating each other in the morning. Capiche?”

Janus stared at Virgil, his breaths picking up. He brought a closed fist to his chest and rubbed the knuckles roughly against his skin.

Virgil frowned at this reaction. “Hey, uh…” His voice trailed off, and Janus squirmed in his seat as Virgil looked him up and down. Finally, he took a deep breath and gestured to the couch in the corner of the room. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Janus was reeling. How was—why was—

Was this a trap?

“…Okay,” Virgil muttered. He rose and walked over to Janus, leading him to the couch and pushing him lightly into his seat. After a moment of hesitation, Virgil took the seat on the other end of the couch and folded his hands in his lap. “Lovely. Great. So…”

Janus picked at the upholstery.

“Why did you come here, Janus?”

His voice was resigned—not angry—but Janus found himself involuntarily shying away. Still….

Speak up. You’re already here, anyway.

He gulped.

Just ask him. What’s the worst thing that can happen? He wouldn’t get violent—that would wake up the others.

His palms were sweating. His throat was bone-dry.

You need to know, Janus. You need to know what happened, and you need to know if it will get better.

His breaths were ragged.

At this point, what have you got to lose?

Even if he did try to speak up, how would he start?

“I need your help.”

Sounded too urgent. It might make Virgil unnecessarily worried.

“Did you miss us when you left?”

Sounded too whiny. It might make Virgil unnecessarily annoyed.

“Are you happy with the Light Sides?”

…No. Absolutely not.

“Janus?”

By now, Virgil had an expression of…something on his face. Something odd.

Please, please don’t be angry.

Janus shut his eyes. “Virgil?”

He could feel the weight of his stare. “Yeah?”

“I”—pant—“have a question.”

“…All right. Go ahead.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Just say it.

“What happened when you left us?”

~~~

A/N: What did you all think of the chapter?

#nightshade writes #when i am gone #sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #anxceit #platonic anxceit #dukeceit #platonic dukeceit #pre putting others first #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #family #dark sides as family #friendship #late night conversations #running away #the author regrets everything

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

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(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining.#sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he.#bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me #because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him #which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he #friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on --#-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes.#not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs #a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know #he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks #but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post #when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock #and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot #so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th #waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't #- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought #a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is #'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.'#not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the #fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes #“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny.#sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have

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