All 28.2 - Starting Fresh

It was a few hours after Cohen had first broken the news to him about what had happened that Lucca returned to the hotel where they had all been staying. He slipped silently through the hallways, moving quickly in hopes of avoiding the others. Mercifully, he found the hallways deserted. Stopping outside the door to the room where he knew Victor had been left he hesitated. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and took a deep, shuddering breath. Exhaling slowly, he gave a brief knock and let himself in. Inside, he saw Victor kneeling on the floor, meditating peacefully, his posture sharp. He didn't seem to notice the door open.
Lucca stood in the doorway for a few long moments, biting his lip as he silently regarded the other man. The man who knelt quietly was a half-elf, was Victor, but he looked slightly younger, his hair darker; it was Victor exactly as Lucca had known him, when they had met nearly a decade ago. The sight was both strange, and yet intimately familiar, giving the druid the sense of intense deja-vu. He turned and gently closed the door before padding lightly across the room to take a seat across from Victor. He swallowed hard, then, with another deep breath, ventured tentatively, "...Hey...How...How're ya doin'?"
Victor's eyes opened sharply, and he regarded Lucca with a vague questioning, the look given to someone unrecognized. "Hello," he replied. "I'm...fine, I suppose. Nothing really, one way or another." He looked away and bit his lip, venturing with supreme hesitation, "I...suppose you know...that I'm supposed to know...a lot of things I don't know, that I did know..." Wincing, he looked back towards the druid, "You're...Lucca?"
At this the younger man blinked and stared at him in suprise for a few seconds. With a small, painfully sad smile he closed his eyes and nodded. Swallowing back the tears that threated to well up, he answered softly, "Yeah...yeah, I am." Opening his eyes once more, he tried again to offer a reassuring smile, continuing. "And I do know; don't worry, I'm gonna help you out with that...What's Doctor Cohen filled you in on already?"
"Some things. Enough to know a lot, without actually knowing anything," he said, expression becoming downcast again. "My name is Victor Erzebet, or at least that's what it is right now. I'm a devil that's being kept in a powerful summoning and binding spell, modifying me so I am without memory and so I appear as a half-elf. There was a reason, ostensibly, as to why; something regarding a man who was dead, a rich woman who wanted him alive, and another devil who wished to profit from that. But now she is dead and I am not, so I am a mortal until I die and return to Hell, regaining my real form and all of my memories that are sealed. I had been living like this for a while, years, but the spell was breaking because of interfering magic. The devil who cast the spell the first time cast it again, so I am back where I was originally, utterly humbled and lacking all memory." His eyes flicked up periodically to glance at Lucca as he continued, "I'm travelling with you because some outside force called the All are attacking the world, and we are the ones who are going to stop them. But, because I am sealed so thoroughly, I have lost the god-power that is mine, and without it, I cannot hurt them." He sighed slightly, "He told me of fourteen people, who were...pertinent, to the quest at hand. Some were more relevant than others, he said, so some were described in greater detail, but...the paradox being, the closer they are, the less he really wanted to say, because he'd rather they describe themselves, lest he get everything wrong. I have names, and brief descriptions, and what he gathered my relationships to them to be, but nothing else." Victor looked at Lucca again; his mouth twitched, and he bowed forward, saying softly, "I'm...very sorry."
Lucca closed his eyes tightly and nodded once more, taking a moment to process this. "Alright...alright cool." He paused for a few more beats before continuing, "It sounds like he gave you a decent framework, all things considered...there's....there's a lot more to it, obviously. But you know that of course...I just..." He opened his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling, his words a murmer. "It's hard to know where to start...there's so much..." Bringing his gaze back to Victor, he regarded him softly for a long moment before eventually saying, "How about you pick? What do you need to know first? We...I..." He took a deep breath, looking away as he forced the words, "We've...been...together...for the last seven years...since the woman you were...summoned for, I guess...died...which is basically how long you've been here in the first place...so...I...I know basically all of it...everything you've lost...So whatever you need to know first, wherever you wanna start...I've got ya, ol-" He cut himself off, wincing slightly and murmered again, "I've got ya."
Victor thought about that for a moment, then closed his eyes. "I need..." he paused, then sighed through his nose, "...It's a bit awful to ask this of you, but...I feel like I'm at a funeral, and I'm both someone who never met the deceased, and the corpse at the same time. I'm sorry...terribly sorry, because the loss is hurting you so much, it's easy to see. But...I'm not dead. I don't remember things, but...it's not the first time I apparently needed to start with nothing. I seem to have made out alright, if people care about me, and I'm saving the world. I will survive, without my memories, and I will make new ones. But, I'm afraid that, if I'm treated differently now, I'll become different, and I don't know if different is something that I want to be. I won't know either way. So...please...I need you to not be different. And I won't know if you are or aren't now, but I will know eventually. If what you are saying is true, and I am trusting Malcolm and you completely, as I have no real other choice, I will have all of my memories returned, and I will know if people all acted differently. I don't think I want to wake up one day and realize that everything changed one day because everyone treated me like I was someone else, so I became someone else because I knew no better." He paused and sighed, "...I know you are important to me. Malcolm wouldn't say in what way, but I must be important to you, or you wouldn't be holding back tears like you were at a funeral." He tilted his head forwards again, "Please don't make me out to be dead."
"I'm sorry...I am...I don't mean it like that at all...to make it out like you're dead...that's not what I'm doing, not what I'm trying to do...not even remotely. Not at all. It's just between these past few months fighting the All, and now this, so abruptly...and how...it's a lot. I'm sorry." He bowed his head for a few moments, a look of fierce determination suffusing his features as he fought to rein his emotions in even further. With a soft sigh, he brought his gaze back up, looking more composed, if brittley so. "I wont be different, I promise. You are here and you are you, and this isnt the first time we've had to do something like this. We'll manage just fine. I'm just an emotional idiot, you'll remember that one day." He gave a weak smile. "I guess I shoulda waited a bit longer, calmed down a bit more. I just didn't want to leave you on your own not knowing anything for longer than I had to...you always hated that so much."
A wry sort of grin passed his lips as he said simply, "Past tense." He moved to get up, but instead only shuffled forward slightly on his knees. "I apologize if this is untoward. I am guessing at my own responses." With that, he wrapped his arms around Lucca, "I am sorry for our loss. Don't feel like you have to hide it, your emotions, but don't worry that what is lost is gone forever."
Lucca returned the embrace, hugging him back tightly and burying his face in Victor's chest. His words were muffled as he replied, "I know...I know..."
As Lucca returned the hug, Victor sat back, continuing to hold him. He grasped him tightly, comfortingly, his own expression an odd combination of comfort and distance. After a while, he whispered, "Tell me about yourself." He stroked Lucca's hair back, "I want to know who you are, that I love you, and who I am, that you love me."
The druid closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, and it was a little while before he answered. "I...am Lucca Wakiya, a druid. I was originally from Timshian, in the Northlands of Mirilarin," He began slowly, his voice quiet. "I met you seven years ago in Arlington, in the basement of the Erzebet manor...I was doing an investigation, my job. It was...an awful, messy night, and probably a story for later...but what matters is things were bad before then, for us both, and after that night, once I'd met you, everything changed and was so much better." He hugged him tighter and was silent for a few beats, "We've essentially been together, in one way or another, ever since. First as co-workers, then friends...then Virgil came, your son, and I was there for that too...after that, we were a family...and now, more recently..." As he trailed off again, this time as much out of shyness as anything else, he moved to twine the fingers of his one hand with Victor's. When he continued, his voice was almost a whisper, heavy with emotion, "You're my Victor...my silly old man...my lord...you mean more than the world and everything in it, to me...and I am yours. Forever, for always." He drew a deep breath, "And yes, Victor Erzebet, I love you. More than anything. And...and you love me too...more than anyone else in my life ever has."
Victor listened to this, his arms around Lucca, and was quiet for a while after he finished. He stroked Lucca's hair, and after a fashion, he smiled. He readjusted himself and pulled Lucca up closer towards him. "I know that all of you might be lying, that this is some elaboratly spun figment...but what is the sense in worrying about that? I will trust you, and that what you say is true. I will not consider myself different, not distinct from who I was, described by those I must trust, because what peace will that bring me to try and start everything anew, when there is obviously trouble here, issues greater than mine, a story so dire and elaborate that to doubt it seems as silly as to believe it? Even if it is a lie, that people would go to such lengths means that there must be some truth." He smiled again, hugging him tighter, "All I know is that I have no meaningful memory of any person, place or experience, except for right now. I will have more eventually. But to have no memory other than being loved? It is not so bad."
Lucca squeezed his hand more tightly, nestling in closer against him. A small smile touched his lips and he looked up at him, "No, that doesn't sound half bad...I'm glad, for that much at least." After a beat he added earnestly, "I would never lie to you...especially about this, especially at a time like this...I promise. I'll do my best to tell you everything, and to be as accurate and unbiased as I possibly can."
"Thank you," he said simply, smiling vaguely. He sat back once more, pulling Lucca close, and he sat quietly, holding him.
It was a little while before Lucca spoke up again, this time hesitantly, "I guess too, now's a good time to mention it...what with you asking me to tell you about me and all...and you don't remember it...but I...am not human either. Most people think I am, and this is how I normally appear to everyone, and they think it's me...but it's not. I'm...a...shapeshifting fey, born on the wrong plane...a...changeling..." He cleared his throat, making a face of disgust as he said the word. "Most people don't know that, I don't like them to know that, it's a bit of a secret. But not from you. Never from you. You knew the night I found out, a few hours after I did, you helped me through it...you're the only one I'm really comfortable...being myself...around...I drop my shift fairly often when we're alone. So..." As he spoke, he sat back and slowly removed the hat of disguise he had borrowed while his tattoo was healing, revealing his changeling form. His eyes darted nervously to Victor's face, before dropping to the floor and he added quietly, "So that's that...figured I'd get that outta the way..." He fingered the brim of the hat nervously, his eyes slowly returning once more to gauge Victor's reaction.
Victor just grinned, "I was wondering why your hair felt different than it looked, but I didn't know if it was something I was supposed to ask about or not. Heh."  He moved his hand along Lucca's hair again. The druid smiled slightly and leaned into his touch.
"Yeah, normally my shifting wouldn't be like that, it'd actually change...but I'm healing a tattoo, so I can't shift; I had to borrow your hat so people wouldn't see..."
"Can I ask why you don't like people knowing? I know..." he frowned as he thought, "changelings are rare, and...I suppose...there are stories about them? Unkind ones. But, surely you have friends, or family. You hide it from everyone? I'm not judging you," he said, as he traced his thumb across Lucca's cheek. "I'm just trying to understand."
"From everyone, yes. A few people know; the majority who do found out by accident, and I'd rather they hadn't." He fell to looking thoughtful for a few moments before sighing and continuing, "I lived my life up until I was eighteen not knowing myself, actively deluding myself that I was just a normal guy. Where I am from, changelings are horrible nightmare monsters, so scary you don't even use those stories to keep kids in line." He trailed off, shaking his head, "It's just the kinda shit you just don't want people to know about you. Plus, I mean, lookit me; that shit's freaky enough without the stories to back it up." He gave a shrug. "Whatever though. I'm pretty over it; it's just something I like to keep under wraps."
Victor looked at him thoughtfully, "...You don't seem 'freaky' at all; you're still very human in appearance. By looking, you're just very pale, for the most part. That's no more terrifying than an albino, and you'd think their red eyes would be considered 'freakier' than yours. Though," he shrugged, "there are people that pursecute and demonize albinos as well, so I suppose that's not saying much." He gave him a squeeze, "Well, if I'm the only one who knows, I am very honoured that I am deserving of your trust, and I will not give your secrets away. And I suppose that's why Malcolm didn't tell me you were anything but human." Smiling slightly, he added, "You have prodigiously long hair. How on earth do you manage to keep it from becoming a knotted mess? Do you just keep it in braids permanently?"
Lucca offered a quiet 'thanks', before continuing with a crooked smile in return. "Heh, no, no. That's all you, actually...you've always looked after it for me; it's frankly more than I can physically deal with on my own. And more than that, you never seemed to mind doing it at all...pretty positive you like it as much as I do?" he finished with a shrug and a small, self-effacing smile.
"Heh. Well, it's good to know I have hobbies," he said with a grin. He leaned forward and touched Lucca's forehead with his nose. "I'm glad I got you to smile," he said warmly.
At this, Lucca couldn't help but smile a bit more broadly, a bittersweetness suffusing his features as he did. He leaned against Victor once more, curling in close and tucking his head under the other man's chin. He sat quietly for a few moments before murmering, "You've got lots of hobbies....you play violin beautifully, and you've taught Virgil. Sometimes you both play together, and that's the best...You are a truly brilliant swordsman, it's kinda both a hobby and your trade, in a way. You use a style like no-one else. It's very fluid, always flowing and whirling...like a dance. We spar often, or sometimes I'll just watch you practice....You like to write...like, the physical act of it, and you do have gorgeous handwriting. Heh, this past week you decided I would make a good place to practice." Smiling crookedly once more, he pulled up his shirt a bit to reveal lines of elegant script flowing across his stomach, the ink barely faded at all. "You covered me in it."
He snickered at this, and investigated the words. After a moment, he commented, "Well, if I wrote this, I must also be a very good poet, but I assume since you complimented my handwriting and not my words, I was likely quoting someone. That's a nice thought, that I can enjoy books again like new, already armed with the knowledge that I will favour them." He added thoughtfully, "Or maybe that will make them less enjoyable, beginning with an expectation?" His finger traced around Lucca's skin as he read anew what he had written from memory a few days earlier.
The druid shivered slightly at his touch, his eyes following his finger. He smiled slightly. "Who knows? There's only one way to find out, though, eh?"
"Of course," he replied. He noticed Lucca watching his finger, and he began to draw it around in small loops, zigzagging about his torso. With a sidelong grin, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of Lucca's ear teasingly. The move served to earn another shiver from the younger man, and he swallowed hard, an odd look on his face.
Reaching out, he gently caught Victor's hand and stopped it. "Hey now..." He admonished gently, tangling his fingers with Victor's, "...take it easy."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he pulled back slightly. "Is that not something we do?"
"I...We...I...no, no it...it is..." He stammered, eyes darting nervously from Victor's face, to the door and back, "...It is...it's just...I...I dunno...right now...?"
Victor grinned, a tinge of imperiousness in his expression as he said, "Are you shy? That's adorable." He considered for a moment, still smiling, "...I don't believe I am. Is it odd?"
Lucca pursed his lips slightly, "...I...No, no it's not odd, that's normal you...I just...you're missing a lot of context right now...a lot of things you don't remember...and I...hrm..." He looked away, making a slight, uneasy face, and muttered after a moment, "...I guess I am shy too...yeah..."
"Well, the way I see it," he said, leaning forwards, "is that no amount of reminiscing is going to replace my memories. I need new ones. New context, to replace the old. I have only the barest of notions, the idea that we love each other, but I have none of the details that grant that notion sense." He ran both of his hands through Lucca's scalp, pushing back his hair and stopping with his elbows resting on Lucca's shoulders. "Talking about the past is...not pointless, but limited. It gives me only more notions, but no memories. According to Malcolm, from when he's known me, I have really only two very important relationships: you, and my son. They are important that I relearn correctly, and reading about people in a book or having them spoken about in a lecture is a poor way to learn how you interact with them. I need to be with you, do things, learn things, not guess at what was. And that is why, in case you wonder, why I have not yet asked about Virgil; because he is not here right now, and the notions I lack are great, and it will be a terrible undertaking to fix without causing a young child too much hurt. But you are here now, and you are equally important, and you are grown and my weakness may hurt you but I hope not as badly, as permanently as it might a child. So I need you to tell me things when I do them wrong or strangely or violate something from the past that escapes me, because I do not want to hurt you, hurt anyone, with my ignorance. But I do not want to wait. I do not want to favour hearing my forgotten past over accomplishing things now. I do not want to hesitate or mourn or guess. I would learn by example, and that will lead to mistakes, so if I do something wrong, tell me, and I will trust you in that." He moved closer, "If I love you, than let me love you, so I know how and what and why, so I know what is right and what is wrong. Forgive me when I make mistakes, but let me make them so I know something."
"Oh, Victor..." Lucca closed his eyes briefly, his words coming as a sigh. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to the other man's and reached up, first with one hand to stroke Victor's cheek lightly, then the other, cupping his face in both hands. "I trust you. I trust that you know what's best for you right now, and I trust you not to do wrong by me...I know you never would, not even by mistake..." He leaned in to kiss him gently, running his hands back into his hair as he did. With a soft murmer, he reiterated, "I trust you, completely."
Pressing his lips to Lucca's once more, his arms twined around his back, Victor added, "I wonder which of us has to have more trust right now?" He kissed Lucca again, underscoring the rhetorical nature of the question, and pulled Lucca over on top of him as he lay back on the floor.
----
It was later that night that Lucca walked through the hall of the empty hotel. The pair had skipped dinner, and though Victor had waved him off, saying that he was tired and would wait for breakfast, Lucca was hungry nonetheless. Walking to the dining room where they had set up the magical food cauldron that had been feeding them all for months now, Lucca intended to get a late dinner. 
When he got there, he saw Cress standing in the room already. He was leaning on a windowsill, looking out over the ruined city while eating a plate of ravioli, it seemed. Lucca's presence behind him had apparently gone unnoticed. The sight of another person gave the druid pause. After brief bit of deliberation, he gave the faintest of sighs and resumed his mission. Moving quietly, Lucca approached the cauldron and stared into it blankly for some time, his weary mind confounded by the question of what to actually eat. He didn't really notice time passing, until Cress' voice snapped him out of it. "Hey," he said quietly. Apparently he had moved silently as well, and was now standing nearby, holding a plate. "Tough call when it can make anything, isn't it?" he said with a touch of wryness. He reached into the pot and created some pasta with zucchini and tomato sauce. "It makes some good pasta though," he added, passing the plate over to the druid.
Holding the plate, Lucca simply stared at it uncomprehendingly for a few moments before offering the faintest ghost of a smile. "Thanks, dude..." He glanced about flatly in search of a fork, quickly giving up in favour of distractedly rummaging through his pockets instead.
"No prob," he said, pulling a bunch of garlic bread out of the pot and shoving a piece in his mouth before tossing some on Lucca's plate. He swallowed, "You doin' ok? Doc filled us in."
Lucca had managed to locate a fork and was half-heartedly chasing a piece of zucchini around his plate. When the elf spoke he stopped, pursed his lips, and gave a heavy sigh. "I guess so," he said quietly, staring unfocusedly ahead. After a few moments he sighed once more spearing the zucchini and jamming it in his mouth, chewing mechanically.
Chomping another piece of bread, Cress looked at him with a measure of pity before offering, "I'm sorry, Lu. I'm shit at being supportive and crap, and I don't wanna fuck up and make you feel worse, right? Do you want me to talk about other shit? Or just shut up? If you wanna be left alone, that's fine, s'just...bein' alone is kinda shitty too. You...don't look like you wanna talk yourself, an' that's cool."
The druid just slowly shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. "I don't even know, man...I don't even fuckin' know..." He muttered eventually, poking at his food once more, "Thanks though...for like, tryin' and all...s'good of you...appreciate it..." Sighing softly, he added, "You can do whatever...you don't have to shut up or leave...unless you wanna, then feel free....that's cool too..."
"Ok...well..." he paused, then grinned slightly, "Guess I'll stay and make sure you don't fall into your food." He sat for a bit quietly, watching Lucca chew blandly. Eventually, he looked away and threw out, "Cloves and the doc are funny. Cloves is like, super straight, right? She doesn't get it, when the doc talks. And the doc can't talk straight at all, nothing is up-front with him. So it's like, they want the same thing, but neither of them can figure out what the other is on about. It's kinda funny." He looked thoughtful; he wasn't particularly expecting a response. Lucca seemed nonplussed, staring at his plate. Cress continued, "It's like, the doc feels like he's getting shafted, and Cloves just wants us to be a team, but doesn't get that when the doc pisses and moans, he wants to be part of the team too, he just does it different." He was quiet for a minute, then said, "The necroprick is gonna be here soon. Means that Cloves' bro is gonna get woken up. I wonder what he's like? Cloves says he's pretty hardcore, but a good guy. Kinda wanna spar him, just to see how we measure." There was another long pause before Cress changed topics again, "I was talking. To some of the commanders, out there. It...was weird. They're...angry. Not at, like, me, but...they're pissed at the world. Lot of 'em have been in the Underdark forever. Everywhere hates 'em, right? 'Cause they're zombies. And most zombies don't know any better, but when you're one of the few that're smart enough to know everyone hates you, it sucks. So they get fuckin sick of it, and hide in the Underdark. Didja know they've got like, a whole fuckin' system down there? Handful of fuckin' superpowers like Necroprick run the show, and everyone else picks a gang and works for 'em, and they get turf wars and everything else. Super lame. And they ain't the only things down there either. Apparently a lot of messed up shit that Cheko lives at the sunshiny top layer of. So they don't wanna be down there, but they can't be up here either. So they signed up with Necroprick, and he promised them a place and he delivered, if they can hold it. Apparently they got another gang boss coming with backup, and they're golden once he gets here. They don't even know about the All, really." He paused and thought before adding, "Necroprick has to pay. He killed so many innocent people, that he can't get away with that. But...like...what do you do with the rest of 'em now? Do you kill everyone? Do you let 'em have their city now? Do you make 'em go back? S'not like they need a lot of trade, they don't need food or nothin', so they don't need to be friendly-like with neighbours." He looked up at the ceiling, "...Wonder if Ryu would live there, if Necroprick hadn't fucked him up?"
"Doubt it. Ryu does his best to forget he's undead, to pretend he's not. He hates it; it's against his religion. Wouldn't make sense for him to go off and immerse himself in it." Lucca said flatly, adding quietly after a few moments. "I don't see why the hell the poor fuckers can't just keep the city...it's not like the original inhabitants are around to get it back. These undead have as much of a claim to it as anyone else, now. They don't wanna have to hide in the Underdark like a bunch of monsters. I don't blame 'em. They don't deserve to be killed or chased back or some bullshit for that."
Cress sort of nodded absently. He added eventually, "It sounded, for two of 'em, anyway, that they didn't wanna be zombies either. But they ended up down there anyway. One ran outta options, the other ran outta patience. Take enough shit for long enough, and you just stop giving a damn." After another long pause, he added, "Living forever sounds like crap."
Lucca simply grunted in response, "I guess so." Cress sat quietly for another few moments, then got up. When he returned, he handed Lucca a large piece of pumpkin pie before beginning to eat his rather gigantic piece of carrot cake. The druid blinked at the offering a couple times before quirking a faint smile and shaking his head slightly.
It was some time before either of them spoke again, with Lucca eventually breaking the silence. "I dunno how I'm gonna explain this shit to Virgil..." He murmered hollowly, "I mean, I'm sure he'll take it all in stride one way or another...he's always been cool like that, rolls with things really well and all...but still...I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, his expression darkening, "I dunno..."
"Mmm...yeah. It's messed up, man." Cress thought for a minute before askng, "Do you want me to talk to him? Like, I know he's like your little bro and all, but don't feel like you gotta handle stuff all on your own, right? We're all in this, we all care about you and Victor and Virg, and we're all here for you."
"I dunno, man...I feel like I should, I just dunno how I'm supposed to make it...appropriate, sorta? You know?...like, it's all so fucked...so, so fucked...I mean, it'd be one thing if it just happened somehow...that'd be shit enough...but like, how it went down...fuck." He sighed heavily, dropping his forehead into his palms, adding quietly, "Thanks though...I do appreciate it...and I'll think about it..."
"Just don't forget we're here, right? We're all here." Cress sat silently for a moment, then asked very quietly, "I wonder where Mr. W went..."
"Fuckin' far far away, I would hope," the druid growled lowly, his voice and features suddenly suffused with a flash of venomous fury.
Cress flinched visibly at Lucca's reaction. "...You don't...think he meant to...do you?" he asked warily.
At this, Lucca blinked, his gaze moved slowly to meet Cress', losing none of its intensity. He stared the elf down for a long moment before answering coldly, "...No. No I don't think he was aiming for this. But I also don't believe it could possibly have been totally unforseen either. I find it hard to believe it could have even been mostly unforseen. He might not have meant it, but he had to have seen it coming."
Cress shivered under the glare and looked away, muttering quietly, "...I don't know...'s probably an accident...they're friends..." 
The druid's eyes flicked away and he gave a snort, "Yeah. Accident. Accident in the way gutting someone when all you meant to do was stab 'em is an accident."
Cress made a face of concern and sadness, and continued to look at the ground as he mumbled, "...I still wanna know why. I...I've known Percival my whole life, it just...just doesn't seem like him, s'all. Not saying it wasn't wrong, or his fault or nothin', but...but I don't know what he did, or why, and I wish I did."
"I'd like to know that myself. I seriously hope whatever the fuck he got outta it was worth it to him," Lucca practically spat, shaking his head disgustedly.
Voice barely above a whisper, Cress said, "...Probably wasn't..." then let the topic drop. He sighed heavily, looking unsure of himself and struggling to think of something to say but coming up blank. Eventually, he stood up and walked over to the hotel's bar, not too far away, and came back with two bottles of wine. He passed one to Lucca. "S'all they really had, unless you wanna drink scotch out of the bottle," he said quietly.
Lucca looked at the bottle hard for a long moment, before pulling out one of his knives, mumering, "I'll need that scotch after," he used the blade to uncork the bottle and, bringing it to his lips, downed nearly a quarter of its contents in a single go.
"There's a whole bar," Cress said, his voice sad, "No one else is using it."
"Perfect," Lucca replied, the anger having mostly gone from his voice, leaving a hollow sadness in its wake. "Fuckin' perfect."
----
Victor heard a knock on his door. He looked up from the book he was jotting in, eyebrow quirked. Everyone else that was apparently around, Clover, Cress, Lucca and Malcolm had already come and gone recently, and it was too soon for Lucca to be coming back. “Come in,” he stated, looking towards the door. The door opened quickly and a man Victor didn’t recognize rushed in, closing the door behind him. He was dressed smartly, but his face and hair suggested that he hadn’t slept well, or at all, in a little while. He looked at Victor with a mixture of panic and remorse, and it didn’t take Victor much to guess who it was. “I am going to assume that you are the relatively infamous Percival Webber,” he said, a small grin playing about his mouth.
“I am so sorry,” Pierce replied, his voice soaked with regret. “I didn’t...I really, honestly, completely didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Victor’s expression was unchanged, a somewhat eerie level of amusement on his face, considering. “I am terribly interested in what happened, then, if this somehow happened by mistake.”
Pierce looked about fretfully, jumping at shadows, “I...I wasn’t...tricked, I won’t make that excuse. But, it wasn’t my idea, and I didn’t realize what it would mean when...augh, this is all a mess. It wasn’t supposed to be a mess, it was supposed to be simple and finished. But I fucked it up, and now it’s ruined, and Lucca is going to murder me, and he’s going to come back here, but I needed to apologize, and I know he stepped out so I’ve only got a few minutes...”
“Stop,” Victor said, cutting him off. “Stop and take a deep breath. You’re agitating me. No one is going to murder you, why do you think…” he stopped and sighed, “Well, I hope he wouldn’t murder you, but I can’t say I know him well enough, can I? But he’s not going to murder you in front of me at least. I won’t let him murder you in front of me, so calm down and explain yourself properly.” Pierce tried to compose himself; when he had taken a few breaths, Victor said, “Alright. Now. You summoned a devil?”
Pierce’s gaze was sidetracked and he sounded none too pleased with himself as he replied, “Yes.”
“Even though apparently everyone agreed it was a bad idea?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. So, you bargained with it. What did you get, and what did you pay?”
“Ugh,” Pierce groaned, pinching his eyes. With a sigh, he replied, “I wanted a moon pearl, I wanted the werewolf curse removed, and...I, agreed, to have your binding spell renewed.”
“Werewolf curse?” Victor interrupted.
“Some of us turn into dogs on the full moon. You used to, but it probably got removed when he remade your body. It’s demeaning and invasive and a burden on my life. Anyway, in exchange, he gets a teleport circle and a gem to activate it, built in Yeto for his people to use. I got suckered, though: the binding spell didn’t just make you human again, it took your memories and ascendant power and I swear I didn’t mean for that to happen. And, he used removing the curse as a loophole to enter Materia, because he said he had to ‘do research’,” he said, making quotation marks in the air. “So I screwed you over, and let an archdemon run around Materia until we get to Yeto and I hand over my half of the deal. And Lucca probably wants me dead, and everyone else is probably quietly backing him up, and...guhh,” he rubbed his face. “I have done more intelligent things in my life…” he muttered.
Victor looked at him placidly. Eventually he asked, “You say you ‘agreed’, yet listed it as something you gained. Explain.”
“He...ugh, he brought it up. Kept saying he’d ‘throw it in as a freebie’. It was obviously something he thought was a good idea. And, he was right, in a way. You weren’t happy as a devil. It upset you, when the spell started breaking. You got withdrawn and short, and...and you didn’t want to be what you were becoming! It was pretty obvious! And yes, fine, I’ll admit it, you freaked me out. I won’t be so crass as to say I had the spell done for you, it was for my benefit, everyone’s benefit. Every time you got less human, you got...harsher. More and more off. Extraplanar. There’s just something...unsettling, about outer planes creatures; we could all feel it. Maybe not Lucca, but he’s not a normal mortal anyways; ask anyone else, they’d agree. So when the gods broke the spell to get at your ascendant power, and when the spell started degrading and you became a teifling, a part-devil, it just got worse and worse, and it was hard to even be around you. So I reasoned, if being a teifling bothered me and you and everyone else, and Ratik’nun wanted to cast the spell, then why not? Why not? But I swear, I honestly swear that I didn’t realize it would lock your power and I really didn’t think that it would make you forget everything. Maybe, if I had thought harder about it, I would have realized, but...but I got suckered. Fuck me if I didn’t fall for his sales pitch like an idiot.” He growled again, “I’m not a salesman, never was. I’m a spokesman, it’s different. I should have known, but we needed that stone, and it wasn’t a big deal for me to summon him and...ugh. I’m a selfish prick, and an idiot. What I don’t get is why!" he exclaimed, "Why did he bring it up, why did he do it if he knew it would do that? I might be a moron, but he should know what his spell does! He must have known it would weaken you so badly, and he wants Materia saved! He’s invested! He’s got holdings here, and the whole reason he dealt with me at all is because he thinks I’m a long-term gain in Materia! Why would he knowingly depower an ascendant saving his things? He should be wanting you more powerful, not less!”
Victor considered that, drumming his fingers in front of his lips, “He must think our chances are very good. If he’s reducing our likelihood of success but still betting on us to win.”
“But why? What benefit is it to lower your own chances?”
“...He must be personally offended by me.”
Pierce dropped his demeanour dramatically. He said in a low voice, “Either you’re a rival of his, or you stand to ruin his holdings. The game he’s playing in Materia is...frowned upon. There are rules, when extraplanars interfere in Materia. He might not have broken any yet, but it’s a tricky game, and no one likes when you play it. Either you’re playing it too, or you were going to ruin his fun or...something. We wondered if you were his vassal, at one point. You aren’t. You can’t be. You’re his opponent. And he’s got you here on Materia, weak and helpless. For...I don’t know. Amusement. This isn’t to destroy you, or remove you from Hell, or anything. It’s too short term, by Outer Planes standards. The only thing I can think of, is, it’s a joke. It’s a game. It’s a punishment. It’s...something for his amusement. Or it was so critical to remove you from the picture for, what, 50ish Materian years, see: barely any time at all, that he did this.”
“You think this devil hates me so much, he risks the destruction of Materia just to make me lose face?”
“Devils are usually self-serving, before all other things. It’s kind of the point of being a manifestation of evil.” Pierce rubbed his face again, “I don’t know. I’m guessing. I’m guessing at everything. Nothing makes sense. It didn’t make sense for him to screw you over so badly, unless he gained something more important than saving the plane from your debasement. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He shook his head, “I’m not trying to dodge blame; what I did was stupid and selfish and you took the fall for it, and that’s before the whole deal is even finished. God knows what else I did without thinking. At least...at least he doesn’t know about Eshbol.”
Victor quirked an eyebrow. “What?”
“Eshbol. The gnoll country in Akroum, that made me their king. Heh,” he chuckled sadly, “what a stupid plan on their part. He only ever mentioned my family’s influence though, nothing to do with my...kingdom. He’s either fixated on Mirilarin, or he doesn’t know about that.”
“Your family…?” Victor trailed off meaningfully.
Pierce waved him off, “My family is rich; we own a lot of business in Asanon. He’s interested in that. He said that he worked with one of my ancestors in the past, which is how my family got to where it is today. I don’t know if there’s any truth in that at all though. Probably isn’t.” He sighed brokenly, and after a pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. He held it out to Victor, “Here. This is the moon pearl. You paid for it more than I did, and if I’m...exiled, then you’ll need this.”
Taking the item, Victor looked it over carefully. After a minute, he said, “I can’t forgive you, you know. Not due to any malice on my part, but, without memory, I can’t gauge the value of what I’ve lost. Without that, any forgiveness I’d give you would be meaningless. However, I don’t bear you ill will. Provided you are being honest.” He turned his gaze to Pierce, and said with no measure of warmth, “If you are lying, and I find that you stand here meaning to obfuscate your guilt, then I will demand reparations, and I will not suggest that they will be reasonable.” With an almost flippant gesture, he added, “If you honestly did not mean to take what you did, then I have no issue. You did what you felt necessary to further our goals, and there were unforeseen complications. I see no reason to punish you for that.”
Pierce looked at him for a moment, still overwhelmed by fear. “...Understood…” He glanced about, “I should go. Lucca will be back, and I...I don’t want to...provoke him. Sienna!” he called. As he turned and moved towards the wall of the room, the door opened, seemingly by itself. As it closed, the invisible Sienna dispelled the magic that cloaked her.
The eidolon grinned a toothy smile. “Sucks to be you, Devil Man,” she said.
Victor was non-plussed, “You must be Sienna, Percival’s eidolon.”
“Aye, I’m pretty Percy’s better half,” she said, sarcasm plain.
Victor returned her levity with his own muted grin, “Pleased to meet you, as it were.”
She smiled at him with her unashamed manner, “Shame on Percy and his screw-ups, takin’ away yer claws so soon after you got ‘em back. I’d be awful mad at him. But yer still a soft man, with or without yer claws, aren’t ya? Shame the devil fixed his spell, ‘stead of takin’ it off; I wonder what a soft-hearted devil is like.”
Pierce pointed at the wall with his open palm, and a round portal opened, showing the streets of Duvallon beyond. “Come on, Sienna,” he said. He looked over his shoulder, and with a last look of regret, he said, “I really am sorry, and...and I don’t want to be evicted, if that helps any. If people still want my help, I’ll still give it, for what it’s worth.”
“Stop being such a whiner, Percy!” Sienna said. “That couldn’t have gone better if you wanted!” Turning back to Victor she added, “He’s more of a mess than you. Stupid, ain’t it?”
Victor still smiled placidly, “Not particularly. I have no context. Of course I’m the least concerned. This is much harder for people who remember why it’s terrible.”
“Aye, I suppose.” She gave a bit of a waved salute, “See you later, Devil Man.” With that, she and Pierce walked through the portal, and it closed behind them. Victor looked at the wall for a moment longer, inspected the necklace once more before dropping it in a drawer, and continued what he was doing.
-----------
It was a little after lunch when Lucca went back up to Victor's room. He stopped in his tracks in the hallway when he realized that he heard voices talking. Someone was talking to Victor, and it only took him a few seconds to recognize the other voice as Pierce. The rage that bubbled within him at the very thought of Pierce, much less the sound of his voice, was powerful enough to be palpable, were anyone around to feel it. He closed his eyes as he worked to keep it under control, grinding his teeth. After a few beats he turned on his heel and stalked back off the way he had came.
When Lucca returned later, the hallway was silent. He knocked on the door, and Victor's voice gave him permission to enter. Opening the door, he saw the man sitting at the desk, having been writing something in a book. "Hello," he said brightly. He gestured towards the book, "So, because this isn't the first time I've been struck with memory loss, it seems a good idea to keep a journal this time. See if I can mitigate some of the impact if it happens a third." He stood up to greet him, "How are you feeling?"
"Hmmm." He considered the book flatly before nodding, "I guess that's a good call. Here's hoping there isnt a third, though." After a moment's consideration, he added with a shrug, "I am...fine, I guess. Been better, been worse. You know."
"Heh. Not particularly, but I understand the sentiment." He hugged the shorter man briefly, nestling his face in his hair. "You sound better, at any rate," he said as he pulled back. "You're lucky you're not more hungover, judging by the amount of alcohol I could smell on you earlier."
"Mmmh, yeah...sorry about that." Lucca said, dropping his gaze sheepishly, "I don't usually do that kinda shit...sorry..." He gave a small, awkward shrug, "...but yeah, I guess I'm feelin' a bit better...I'm gettin there." He looked up at him, offering a small smile.
"That's alright, I understand this isn't an easy time," he said, still smiling. "Though I will likely have some choice words for you if this becomes habitual." Victor turned and sat back down at the desk. "So, I had a visitor while you were out," his voice was still chipper. "He seems more than slightly concerned that you are going to brutally murder him." 
The druid's smile faded, and he pursed his lips. A faint scowl flitted across his face before he managed to compose himself, taking on a carefully blank expression. After a moment he said flatly, "I'm not gonna. What else did he have to say?"
"Is that you aren't going to murder him, or aren't going to murder him brutally?" he said, demeanor all but subtly the same; there was a knowingness there now, Victor's usual smugness.
"I am not going to lay so much as a finger on that man any time soon, unless outright provoked. No murder, brutal or otherwise." As he spoke a muscle in his jaw twitched, belying his barely restrained anger.
Victor regarded him calmly for a moment before replying, "He was apologizing, actually. Explaining some things. Some rather interesting context, actually. Though again, he's more than a tad terrified of the repercussions of his actions." He drummed his fingers together casually as he spoke, his legs crossed. "He was shocked at my own lack of wrath, at any rate; it's obviously not my preferred sin. But he still certainly fears yours, and I can see why he does. So I am wondering what needs to be resolved, so that we can move forward. I believe that the All should still be a greater threat to us than each other."
"They are. The All are priority one, and will remain so until they are well and truly dealt with. Angry or not, I'm not gonna do anything to interfere with our mission to save the entire friggen world." He closed his eyes, doing his best to maintain an even tone, "There is nothing to be resolved here, nothing that can be. I will need some time to get my emotions entirely under control; that is unfortunately one of my faults. But that is all. I don't want to deal with him, I don't want to be around him more than I have to, but I will continue to work with him so long as the All are a problem."
"Good. Then there's as little problem as there can be," he said plainly. He retrieved an item from beside him, stashed in an ajar desk drawer. He rolled the familiar-looking round stone around in his hand, its chain hanging loosely as he looked at it. "Tell me, you know me better than I do right now: do you think I'm more of a rival lord, or more of an extraplanar police officer?" he asked thoughtfully. "I'm likely one or the other, but I'm having a hard time deciding which one I prefer the thought of." His tone had not shifted at all, light but not lacking for seriousness.
Lucca blinked a couple times, caught off guard by the odd question. When he answered, however, it was without hesitation. "I...well, I'd say you seem more like a lord, if I had to pick one. I've said something along those lines before, that you seemed that way...so I'd have to go with that...you've never struck me as a police officer or something like that at all...why? What do you mean? I don't get it..."
"Well, because it seems Mr. Ratik'nun has a little vendetta or something against me, personally," he said, a smugness in his voice. He was not angered, or concerned, merely considering. "It was his idea to reseal me, and he sold the idea well. Why would he care? Why would he care so much that he'd knowingly remove an ascendent from the mission, especially when he was already willing to sell his power like a copper-piece harlot in order to help protect his gains in Materia? Obviously I don't work for him; he would have been happy to increase my power if I was his ally. An unrelated being would be ignored, and the original contractor is dead; his covenant is over and this spell is a pointless formality, unless there are even more unknown pieces in this game. Guessing at unknowns is pointless though, so let us assume there are none. That means that either his pride is so overwhelmingly great that knowing that his spell was broken bothered his self-esteem, or I am his enemy. An enemy he would go so far to humiliate as to lower his odds of succeeding in his intent to help stop the All. And this is nothing more than humiliation; there is no permanency to this spell, from what I am aware. I was not to be chained from Hell eternally, or destroyed. I was to be...bothered. Annoyed. Dishonoured, perhaps. I am an ascended devil. I am powerful, and eternal, and likely at least as strong as him. Do I rival him in some way? Or do I persecute him? His dealings in Materia are shady at best; I could see people becoming upset with him, should they know what he was up to. Either I threaten to undo his work, or I am a rival that contests him otherwise. Either way," he smiled, "I'm flattered that I'm worth going to this amount of work for. Though in the future, I should likely be more wary of accepting summons..."
Lucca considered this for a bit, and eventually offered a nod. "Hmm...I suppose that is a way you can look at it. It certainly makes sense, at any rate. Sounds like the guy is a dick, not that that's suprising or anything." He shrugged slightly, "I personally wouldn't be at all suprised if it does turn out you were some sorta badass hell-lord of some sort." He stood looking thoughtful for a moment longer before making his way over to sit on the bed, kicking off his shoes and folding himself up snugly.
"I'd best be careful or I'll get quite the ego, sitting here and assuming I'm lord of anything," he said with a grin. He stood up and joined Lucca on the bed. "Would you please watch this for me?" he asked gently, holding the moon pearl over to Lucca. "It had a high price, and we need it dearly, but I'm not in the best shape to defend it, should the All or something attack. It's safer with you."
The younger man blinked, his questioning gaze moving first to Victor, then to the pearl and back again. "I...of course." He said quietly, adding, "I dunno if it actually is that much safer with me...but I'll certainly look after it." He moved with some hesitation to take the moon pearl, regarding it for a long moment with an odd look on his face.
Victor looked at Lucca's strange expression. "What is it?" he asked.
"Hmm?...Oh...nothing." He looked over at him and shook his head, explaining, "It's nothing...I was just wondering. These have really gotta be quite the rocks, eh? What with the lengths we've gotta go to, people we've gotta deal with to get 'em...and more than that, the shit they're supposed to do...." He shrugged as he spoke, slipping the chain over his head and tucking the pearl into his shirt, safely out of sight. "I should ask Xander or someone more about them sometime..."
"They are intriguing baubles, aren't they?" he replied. He lay down next to Lucca and closed his eyes, taking a few deep, slow breaths. After a few moments he said, "Tell me about Virgil." He opened his eye slightly and said with a hint of a smug smile, "And you'd best speak nothing but good, because if he's my son I'm sure he's nothing short of perfection."
Once again, Lucca turned to blink at him, and this time a small chuckle escaped him. "Fuckin' right he is, old man!" He unfurled himself and lay back, resting his head on Victor's stomach, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Virgil is the absolute best. He's a lot like you, but better in some ways, which is saying something." He shot him a small grin, then turned to look up at the ceiling, murmering to himself as he thought, "Virgil, Virgil...where do I start...?" After a few moments he began, "Virg is about seven right now, he'll be eight in less than a month. He's the spitting image of you...if you were a little kid, that is." He gave a light laugh, continuing,"He's smart as a whip, super inquisitive...always learning and asking questions...and driven! Spirits help me, is he ever driven! He puts his mind to something and by the gods, he'll do it and he'll be flawless at it." He smiled a bit wider, "Heh, and charming as all shit! Even when he's up to no good, its hard to get mad at him 'cause of it." He gave a small chuckle, pausing to think again and added quietly, "He's very caring and brave too...always trying to find the bright side of things, help people out and not phased easily...chances are he'll take what happened pretty well and roll with it."
Victor smiled as Lucca spoke. "He sounds like a wonderful child..." he said as Lucca trailed off. "...You said you were there, when Virgil...came along. Malcolm didn't want to tell the story, but he said that the boy doesn't have a mother. He was made by the fey somehow. He is an actual half-elf though, not a fey or a changeling or a devil. How did he come into being, and how did he end up with us?"
"Stork brought him, silly! Just like they always say in the kid's stories!" The druid looked over at him and flashed a playful smile before adding more seriously, "But no actually, he was delivered by a fey-stork, which you literally ran from for three whole days, after being made from a lock of your hair when you drew a card from a deck presesnted by a grateful tanooki in stretch pants after we saved him from coyotes. And yes, it has always sounded exactly that ridiculous." He gave a soft chuckle and went on to explain the story in more detail, doing his best to both keep things concise without forgetting anything important. Nevertheless, his own fond nostalgia was clearly evident in the way he occasionally got lost describing details and emotions from the time, his expression faraway and decidedly bittersweet. Victor listened intently, smiling in his vague way while toying with Lucca's hair, interjecting questions when he had them. He had Lucca relate things from the past, about Virgil, about their jobs, about where they lived and what they had done and seen. They talked for hours about their history together, from Lucca's memory. Although the druid tried his best to present things as objectively as he could, his vibrant emotions peeked through time and again as he relived the events from their past. He shared the memories as they came, one flowing from the other often out of order, connected more by their feelings and content than by time. He spoke of good times and bad, but told more tales of the former. By the time he finished the story their first visit with Granny, his voice was starting to grow a touch hoarse. He fell silent, an almost dreamy look on his face as he considered the memory.
"We've done many things," Victor remarked fondly. "I look forwards to doing more."
"Yeah...I do too..." Lucca murmered, turning to look at him softly. Victor leaned forward and kissed him gently, then lay back with a calm, slightly thoughtful look on his face, eyes closed. After a short while, Lucca scooted up next to him and coiled himself around the older man. Closing his eyes, he gently lay his head on Victor's chest and allowed his thoughts to drift, and it wasnt long before he fell into a light doze, his mind wandering the paths between memories and dreams.
----
"Woooooooah..." Virgil said as they finished teleporting, arriving by the clocktower of Duvallon, well away from the Share-covered mess that was the former lordly mayor. Zombies shuffled about mindlessly, paying the three newcomers little mind. "Can I poke them?"
"No," Ryuji's demeanor was tired, though it was more visible in his voice than his body.
"But they don't do anything, right? Why not?"
"Virgil, they could seriously hurt you," Bastion looked at the child with concern, worried about the boy's lack of fear.
Virgil made a face, "Nuh uh. They're dumb zombies, an' they don't gots any orders or anything. Betcha I could poke 'em and they wouldn't even notice before I ran aw-augh!" Virgil was cut off suddenly as Ryuji effortlessly picked him up and put him over his shoulder.
Ryuji explained blandly, "No Virgil. They notice. And I'm not letting you get eaten by zombies, so you're staying here."
"Awwww..." Virgil moaned, but there was a smile on his face. He twisted about expertly so that he was sitting on Ryuji's shoulders; he was a bit big for it, but Ryuji seemed utterly unfazed by the weight. "Where's everyone? Do we get to go looking through the undead town?"
Bastion looked around for a street sign, mentioning, "They should be in the hotel on Francis Street. Look for Francis Street." She pursed her lips, "You'd think they'd send someone to meet us..."
"Alright," Ryuji said walking towards the nearest street to get his bearings, Virgil on his shoulders. As they inspected the streetsign, a familiar sound reached their ears: a brisk clip-clopping echoing off the cobblestones and through the empty city. It was faint, but after a few moments of listening it was clearly getting louder, heading their way. "That you, Lucca?" Ryuji called, not wanting to take chances.
"Yeah," Lucca called back. Bastion and Ryuji moved to meet the druid, and saw that Cress was with him.
"Hi Lucca!" Virgil called over when they came into sight. "Hi Cress!" He waved excitedly from his unlikely perch.
"Hey, little bro!" Cress replied. "How was it staying with Caity and Cheko?"
"It was cool! I got to see Taro again! He's gotta go to school!"
"Sucks for him, doesn't it?" Cress said jokingly, the pair of them joining the newcomers. Bastion greeted them politely; Cress gave a head nod in response. Ryuji looked about disdainfully: he was not in a good mood. Lucca greeted them briefly in turn, coming to a stop near to Ryuji and Virgil.
"Heya, squirt, how's it goin'? I missed ya." He looked up at the boy with a smile, "Whatcha think of this place? Pretty weird, ain't it?" In spite of his light demeanor, there was something a bit off about it; he seemed slightly distracted, distant even.
Virgil grinned, "Yeah. It's like, totally empty, 'cept for the zombies. What do the zombies want with an empty city anyways?" He turned and looked down at Ryuji, "You're cold." In lieu of a response, Ryuji pursed his lips and made a 'hrmn' noise. "Where's Dad and Clover and the Doctor and Mr. Webber?" he asked Cress and Lucca.
"I guess they want a place to hang out or something; I heard their old place was dark and lame. I haven't really asked them, myself." The druid answered with a shrug. He pursed his lips for a split second, shaking it off with a slight smile, "They're back at the hotel, waiting for us. No point in everyone comin' out if we're all just goin' right back there, right?"
"Has...Xander, arrived yet?" Bastion asked, fumbling for the name.
"Nah. No word yet," Cress said simply.
"Let's go!" Virgil declared, pointing forwards. "I wanna look through the ruins, and I gotta get Dad's permiss'n." 
"This way?" Ryuji asked, starting in the direction the two men had come from.
"Yeah, this way. C'mon." Lucca affirmed as he turned and followed suit. The hotel was not terribly far, and the group made some small talk as they walked. Although on the surface everything seemed as it should be there was a subtle but unmistakeable undercurrent of disquiet that seemed to grow as they approached their destination. Virgil appeared to sense this, and began to look between the older people suspiciously as they approached the hotel.
When they entered the foyer, they found Cohen sitting in a chair in the waiting area, flipping through a book. He looked up when they entered. 
"Hi Doctor!" Virgil waved, his suspicion melting away for the moment.
He replied with a dry voice, "Hello Tiny Monster."
Virgil was unfazed by his lack of enthusiasm, "Didja really fight a giant eyeball?"
"Yes, we did," Cohen said, his gaze flicking between the adults. "But that is a story for later." He turned back to his book, though the way he looked suggested that perhaps he wasn't really reading. Ryuji stood dispassionately, while Bastion glanced around; Cress looked to Lucca, waiting for direction. The druid stood looking quietly thoughtful for a long moment, his near flawlessly composed expression in itself odd.
"Come on, Virgil." He said, already starting off towards the stairs and beckoning the boy to follow. "We'll hang out with everyone else later; I wanna talk to you about something." He met Cress' gaze, shooting him a brief look to answer his question.
The boy quirked his head at Lucca's formality, which seemed a bit strange coming from him. He looked down at Ryuji, who's expression made it clear he would no longer be a taxi service, so he slid down his back. Moving to face him, he bowed politely. "Thank you for carrying me," he said sweetly; Ryuji just nodded his head in acknowledgement. Virgil looked at the other adults, with their varying levels of grimness in their expressions, and again seemed to notice how strange everyone was acting; he bit his lip a bit nervously, said 'goodbye', and followed after Lucca.
--------
The four people watched Lucca and Virgil walk away, up the stairs. When they had left, Bastion turned to Cress, “So, is Xander due to arrive shortly?”
Cress looked awkwardly away, mouth opening to say something, when Cohen shut his book with a loud finality. “Before that, we have an unfortunate development which I’m now going to explain for the third time. It’s probably more pertinent to you,” he gestured towards Ryuji, “but you can both be informed.” Ryuji’s expression darkened as he turned towards Cohen; Bastion just looked confused.
“Hey, I can…” Cress started.
Cohen waved him off, “They’d just turn around with questions for me anyways. I am the closest thing to a witness.” He stood up, and launched into an explanation, “Two days ago, Webber thought it would be a good idea to summon Ratik’nun, the devil with the vested interest in the Kamuns and Mr. Erzebet. Figured that it obviously had a stake in Materia, and might be able to give us a moon pearl. He had a little chat with it, made some sort of deal that none of us but him currently know, and got himself a moon pearl. Unfortunately, he did some other things as well. Namely, Erzebet had his spell reapplied. So, while he’s a full half-elf again, he is also lacking his ascendant abilities once more, making him powerless against the All, and he has lost all of his memories, apparently like the first time he had the binding put on. Also: the devil is still wandering Materia on some sort of half-finished deal clause. I don’t know for what or why, but the summoning circle is still there, so it’s still on the plane.
“Yes, I knew about it beforehand. Barely. Webber called me in just as he was finishing the spell to act as a witness or support or...something. I think he was just scared to call it alone. No, I didn’t stop him. I’m not his mother, and if he wants to damn himself by playing with the forces of Hell, that’s his right. If I had known he was going to drag others into this, I would have stopped him. No, I didn’t know about what Webber was actually planning, but I don’t think he did either. From what I heard, he hadn’t fully thought all of it through. Then I was told to leave and get Erzebet, since the devil was interested in him; I figured that there was little it could do besides talk from its circle anyhow. But, by the time I got back, the devil was gone; he’d already agreed to something. A minute later, while we’re trying to figure out what he did, a summoning spell was cast on Erzebet and the spell was reapplied. The devil had been watching, and handed over a pearl. Since then, we’ve been doing what we can, but Erzebet is utterly amnesiatic. Short of dispatching him and summoning him back, we aren’t getting his memories returned. We don’t have the time to return to Yggdrasil; the harlequin has been dispatched to investigate alternative means of unlocking his ascendancy again. Questions?”
“That’s...that’s…” Bastion stammered. “What devil? And what’s…”
“Questions that don’t involve me having to explain reams of context that you’d have if you hadn’t spent the last 4 months relaxing with a huge paycheque?” Cohen said with no regard for etiquette. “Where’s Webber?” Ryuji asked, voice flat and unamused, before Bastion could say anything in her defense.
“A good question. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”
“Well, who’s been looking?”
“To my knowledge? No one. Lucca has been trying to piece Erzebet back together while not having a breakdown himself, Erzebet is almost useless, and I don’t think anyone else has had the inclination. Have you?” he asked, turning to Cress.
“Uhm, well, no…” Cress trailed off, almost sheepishly, before retorting, “But, he’s the one who fuckin’ teleports everywhere! We ain’t gonna find him by lookin’, you’d need magic or something.”
“He needs to be found, and disciplined,” Ryuji said, voice lacking humour. Cohen raised a skeptical eyebrow at this; Cress bit his lip. “The ramifications of devil-summoning aside, we all knew it was a bad idea, it was done against everyone’s wishes, and someone suffered for it.”
“We don’t know what he got from the devil though,” Bastion said. “If he’s been empowered by a devil, he must have gotten something out of it, and who knows what he’d do if we tried to oppose him?”
Cohen scoffed, “Oppose who, Webber or the devil?”
“Hey!” Cress objected, “We don’t know what Percival did or why, ok? We aren’t gonna hang him out to dry until we know all this shit, alright?”
“It’s reasonably obvious that if he’s going to go behind everyone’s backs to summon a devil and sacrifice a teammate for a rock, no matter how important of a rock, then he can’t be trusted,” Bastion countered. “Especially since, if he’s been missing since then, he’s either abandoned the group entirely for his own devices, or is afraid of facing the repercussions of his actions. Either way, his loyalty is questionable at best.”
“He’s afraid of Lucca, is what he’s afraid of,” Cohen added. With a slight sardonic smirk, “I’d be afraid of those repercussions myself.”
“He ruined Victor’s life, there need to be repercussions,” Ryuji said flatly. “And yes,” he looked at Cress, “they should match the crime. It might have been a mistake, it might have been on purpose. We don’t know. But he did something unforgivably wrong regardless. There are consequences. So we need to find him, so we can know what those consequences are.”
Cress frowned, but didn’t argue. Bastion nodded slightly, agreeing with him. Cohen smirked, “Well, that’s a bit harsh, but I’m not strictly surprised, coming from you.”
“And none of us are surprised that everything you walk near gets irrevocably fucked up, either,” Ryuji replied, voice still hard.
The unexpected jab caught everyone off-guard, and they all looked at Ryuji with various levels of shock. “Ex...cuse me?” Cohen asked.
“You heard me. Werewolves, the giant All, the first time we came here, now this? This is, of course, after you manage to get arrested twice, the second time in the Underdark, by mercenaries, who found you by accident. Your luck is a contagion.”
“Are...are you trying to be funny?” Cohen asked incredulously. “Have we crossed into a universe where you think you’re humourous?”
“Oh, no, that would be a terrible place,” he replied, his voice still quite serious; if he was being sarcastic, his voice didn’t show it. “But at least it might be better than the world where you screw up everything.”
Cohen sat back and blinked a few times. Crossing his arms, he replied, “I am actually having a very hard time figuring out if you have no sense of sarcasm, or if you’re just a prick.”
Ryuji looked at him blandly, “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here, Doctor. I’m obviously both.”
“Oh, like the cat in the thought experiment, where it’s in a box and it’s both dead and alive?” Cohen retorted smugly, “My, the parallels between you and that cat are numerous, aren’t they?”
Cress looked between the pair, “Guys…”
“You’re going to joke about it now?” Ryuji said, unaffected and ignoring the elf.
“It’s hardly a joke. It’s an observation at best,” Cohen said. “What has you up in arms anyways? This isn’t about the devil; you’d be after Webber for that.”
“It’s just as much your fault. You let him do it.”
Cohen’s face flinched slightly at that comment, “I am...aware of that, but I honestly…”
Ryuji continued unphased, “You let him summon it, which means you agreed with him, at least in part. You didn’t tell anyone else until it was too late. You brought Victor into it. You’re just as much at fault, and you have reparations to pay as well.”
Cohen was taken aback for a second, then his eyes narrowed and he said through a clenched jaw, “...Yes...I will accept that...but in your calculation,” he said, his voice becoming vitriolic, “take into consideration my current punishment. I honestly felt as though I was doing no harm, and now that I did, I have felt awful since. And, it has the added bonus of giving me the complete inability to know what feelings I have are genuine and which are figments of magic. This has been on long enough that I can no longer rightly know what I do and do not legitimately care about. And by the time it comes off, I will have spent so many years under it that I will have no idea what I honestly care about anymore at all. So factor that, if you would.”
“You feeling guilty isn’t a punishment, it’s an indication that you did wrong,” Ryuji said, unmoved. “And the collar will come off when the All are dealt with.”
“If you honestly believe that, you’re better at lying to yourself than I thought,” Cohen replied.
Ryuji’s eyes narrowed, “I am exceptionally good at that. You did wrong, you will be punished. That’s all there is to it. Caitlyn said she would take it off, so she will.”
“This...this is unlike even you,” Cohen said suspiciously. “You aren’t this severe. What is wrong with you? Is this to do with working with the necromancer, or something else?”
“It’s not severe; it’s just. I’m upholding law, since that doesn’t seem to be anyone else’s priority.” He eyes narrowed, and he hissed, “And do not evenmention him. I will have nothing to do with that man.”
“Obviously not…” Cohen trailed off. He immediately abandoned that subject for another: “What does ‘law’ have to do with us? Any of this? We aren’t an army, we don’t have rules. We’re not working under king or country. Nothing I did was illegal. Wrong, maybe. Poorly planned, certainly, but I doubt that even what Webber did was strictly illegal.”
“It’s the principle of it. If I’m going to serve law, then I’m going to uphold it.”
Cohen was becoming confused. “What does that even me…” he stopped suddenly, an idea coming to him. “...The angel. She told you they couldn’t do anything, didn’t she? That you’re to stay in lawful Materia, serving the lawful gods. That’s what’s set you off, and got you going on about law, isn’t it? Why you stormed off back to your wife, knowing that you’d have to come right back anyways. You’re not just mad now, you’ve been upset for days.” Ryuji just glared venomously, an uncharacteristic expression on his usually-amicable face. “...I take your silence to mean yes.” The other two watched this exchange with some wariness that only grew as the conversation continued. Ryuji glared at Cohen, who couldn’t help but throw in one final word, “Good.” The Yetoman’s eyes widened in utter shock and offense at the statement, stunned for a moment at the blatant audacity of the doctor. The other two made faces as well, but Cohen was unmoved. “Good. Not anything against you, honestly. But heaven doesn’t deserve your ability.” Ryuji just stared at him with livid bewilderment. “I’ve said it before,” Cohen continued, explaining his position calmly, unperturbed by the violence that Ryuji’s bearing screamed was barely contained. “but I detest the Outer Planes. The creatures there have uncountable unfair advantages over sentient mortals. Their wildlife is physically superior and more magically adept than some of our strongest people! Some of the greatest champions of mortalkind can barely contend with their comparatively wet-behind-the-ears apprentices. And what do they do with this power? They use our plane like a playground. Look at what just happened! A devil is running amok, and yes, it is partially Webber’s and my fault, but it wouldn’t have happened if that creature wasn’t playing around in Materia to begin with. It deals on Materia as a game, as a power grab, and it has no love lost for the people it meddles with here. Do not even begin to argue that that angel cares any more. It was willing to let us die, to prove a point about ethical alignment. The concept of destroying evil is demonstrably more important than saving Materia. Because to extraplanars, particularly the outer ones, we are nothing. We are the short-lived, inconsequential insects that scurry about the plane of inconvenient rules. So, good that you can’t run off to the Outer Planes, good that you are bound to Materia, because mortals deserve so much better than for one of their ascendants to abandon them for Heaven, when Heaven has done nothing to deserve such a boon.” Ryuji continued to glare, but there was a curious mix of emotion behind the gaze now: a muddled confusion of anger, sadness, and shock. Cohen saw this, and apparently had yet to vent all of his frustration, as he continued, “Whine whine whine, you whine about everything all the time. You whine that you’re undead, you whine that life is hard. Beingnear you is annoying, because you aren’t even saying anything and yet you still somehow let everyone know that your life is terrible. Yes, life is hard, because that’s what Materia is. That’s what having life is. It is difficult, so we become better, and Materia becomes better because of that. It is literally the entire point of everything! So what if you can’t run off and waste the work and benefit you should be paying to Materia on Heaven! Good! You can’t stomach that? Flavour it however your religion-addled brain needs you to! You so desperately need to serve Heaven? Then do that, here. Nothing is stopping you from promoting good on Materia! You don’t need, and shouldn’t, go to Heaven to do that; what does Heaven need with more good?! Change things here! You can’t handle the concept of being undead, because your church tells you undead are all evil. Well, they’re obviously pretty clearly wrong, so why don’t you change that? The only reason you’re complaining about being undead is because your church told you to, and that’s because a group of people think a certain way, which, because we are on Materia, has the ability to be influenced. If undead were so utterly unloved by your god of good, why in the bloody hell are you still a paladin? So it is people who are wrong, and people who can be changed, so maybe, you could focus on that instead of permanently being in a nauseating state of perpetual melodrama, that you then have to mask by self-righteously taking it out on me!!” With that, Cohen stood up and stormed away. Cress and Bastion looked at each other before turning towards Ryuji, who continued to glare where Cohen had been. After a few seconds, he turned and stalked off in the other direction.
Cress and Bastion exchanged looks again. Eventually, Cress shrugged awkwardly, “Let’s...go..find Clover?” Bastion nodded, and the two walked away as well.
--------------
The druid lead the way up a couple floors and to one of the rooms. Inside, the mildy dishevelled appearance and large amount of books scattered about spoke clearly of its onetime occupancy. Virgil followed in behind him and stood up straight in the center of the room. He looked at the floor for a few concerted seconds before looking up and asking, a bit hesitantly, "...What's wrong? Everyone...everyone's got that look, like with the Firehawk. Everyone's...worried. Where's Dad, an' Clover an' Mr. Webber?"
Lucca had pushed a few books out of the way and taken a seat on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes as he tried to decide how to begin. At Virgil's words, he opened his eyes and gave the boy a small, reassuring smile "They're all around, not far. Everyone is okay, I promise. I'm gonna explain everything now." He paused for a long moment, and took a deep breath, "Alright...so, you know how we came to this city so someone could help us keep the All from coming here using those special stones, right? And how we needed more of the stones so we could close all of the doors they were coming through? But they're really hard to get, right? So we had to ask other people if they could help us out, like that angel Julia and whatnot, yeah?" He looked up at the boy to make sure he was following, and to gauge his reaction so far.
"Yeah..." Virgil said hesitantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Good, good." The druid nodded. There was another long pause as he considered his words once more. "So...someone decided that because this is so important, and we need so many stones and they're so hard to get, to call someone the rest of us didn't want to. So he called the person all on his own, without telling the rest of us. And he got the stone, which is good...but...there was a bit of a screw up." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. He continued, his words coming a bit quickly as he tried to get the full explanation out before there were any misunderstandings. "The guy that got called was the devil that put the spell on your dad years ago; the one that makes him not be a devil. And you remember how it was breaking, right? That spell? And your dad got the horns and tail and all that stuff? Well, the devil apparently didn't like that, so he decided to fix the spell while he was here." Opening his eyes, Lucca quickly added, looking at the boy earnestly, and gesturing placatingly, "The devil didn't hurt him at all or anything, he's fine, I promise. He is." Lucca pursed his lips for a second, "But the spell did get fixed."
Virgil just watched him, his own uncertainty and fear begining to show. "But...but that should be good, right? Dad...Dad didn't like the devil stuff, it made him really upset, right? Bein' normal again would be a good thing. So...so people should be happy, not sad. Why is everyone sad about it? And where is he? He always comes quick when I gotta stay behind and he gets back; why isn't he here?" His tone began to gain a frantic edge as his continued, looking to Lucca for answers.
"It's okay bud, it's okay." He said quickly, trying hard to sound reassuring, "He's not far, just in another room in this hotel right now. He's not here 'cause we...I needed to talk to you first, okay? I'm not done explaining yet...it'll make sense when I am..." He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. For the first time since he began talking, his own distress was beginning to peek through his carefully composed demeanor, slowly showing more as he continued. "Okay, so. The devil fixed the spell. And it made the devil stuff go away, which was kinda good, yeah...but...when the devil fixed it, he didn't just patch it up...he put a full, brand new spell on your dad again. And that's why its not so great..." Closing his eyes once again, he swallowed hard. "The spell is what makes your dad not a devil, you know that. And it does that by making him look like your dad; a half-elf, right? And it also hides away his devil powers and his devil self...and everything that his devil self thought and remembered. At least, that's how it worked the first time..." He opened his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling, his voice quiet as he went on. "...Well...it worked that way again this time too...but...it also took away your dad's ascendant powers, cause they are linked to his devil powers...and all the memories he had made since the last time the devil had cast the spell, along with the devil ones...'cause it apparently didn't care that they weren't devil-memories, it just took them all away..." He looked at the boy again as he said quietly, "...So that's what is wrong...and we're all trying our best to fix all of it as much as we can, as fast as we can. But...but that's what happened." He pressed a hand to his forehead, inhaling deeply through his nose as he fought to rebury his feelings, wanting nothing more than to keep from upsetting Virgil further. "I'm sorry, Virg..."
Staring at him, trying to process the meaning of Lucca's words, Virgil stuttered, "Dad...Dad doesn't remember anything? Like...like he doesn't remember why we're in the empty city, or the stones? Or the Firehawk? Like...like the memories of the devil stuff, right? It...got rid of the devil memories, and the memories of having the devil memories? So, he forgot like, a month..."
A deeply pained look flitted across the druid's face before he managed to get it under control. He bit his lip slightly and shook his head, his voice almost a whisper as he answered. "...No, bud...he...doesn't remember anything since the spell was cast the first time...since he stopped being a devil and became...who he is...the first time." He watched the boy closely as he spoke, hoping desperately that he would understand without him having to spell it out further.
Virgil's face was shellshocked as he said, "...That's...that was...he said...that was..." He wrapped his arms around himself and muttered, "...But...that was...before...everything..." He saw Lucca's face, and the barely-restrained sorrow there was the confirmation of Virgil's statement. The boy looked at him, so very close to tears, and Lucca was much the same, both trying to rein in their emotions. Virgil shut his eyes tight and took a shuddering breath. "Ok," he said, his voice barely audible. "...Ok..." He said nothing further; after a moment, he took a small step backwards. Slowly, and whether or not he even realized what he was doing, he began to shakily walk backwards towards the door.
"Virgil, wait..." Lucca said quietly, his voice a tight and barely above whisper as he fought to keep it steady, "...where're you going...?" From his expression it was clear he wanted to say more, something to comfort the boy, but he was struggling for words.
Looking up, he blinked a bit, snapping back to reality. He steeled his expression and stood up straighter, saying clearly, "I just...want to look around a bit, I guess. I've never been in an empty hotel..." His demeanour was odd; he was mimicking what he had seen earlier, trying very hard to mask his emotions and not being unsucessful at his efforts. "I'm just gonna look around some. I'm not going to go outside," he added.
The druid flinched slightly at his sudden shift in demeanor, a bewildered look passing across his face, "O-oh...now?...are you sure? I mean..." He blinked a couple times, trying to process this, eventually adding quietly, "...I'd really rather you didn't wander around on your own, bud...it's really not that safe here, what with the zombies and the All around and stuff...and..." he trailed off, looking deeply uncertain.
"You...you said everyone was still around. If everyone's around, it can't be super dangerous," he said. "It's...it's fine, right? It's fine," he repeated the second phrase as a statement, not a question. "I'm going to look around. I'm fine," he said this with an almost defiant certainty.
"I...well...yeah, sorta...but...I...I dunno, dude..." Lucca spluttered, his expression becoming only more off kilter as this went on. "...Are you sure...?"
"Yes," he said brusquely. "I'm fine. Don't worry 'bout me." He stepped forwards quickly and hugged Lucca. "Don't worry," he said into his shoulder as he clutched him tightly. "I don't want you to worry."
Lucca hugged him back tightly, one hand coming up to lightly stroke the boy's hair. "I'll try, Virg..." He murmered, his tone sounding strange, defeated almost. "I'll try."
"K." He pulled back and gave Lucca a slightly odd-looking smile before turning and leaving the room.
Lucca simply watched him go, dumbfounded by the way things had gone. He sat staring for a long time at the empty doorway with a hollow, almost stricken look, his mind miles away. It wasn't till a drop of something wet hit the back of his hand that he was startled back to reality. It was followed by a second, then another. Reaching up, he absently wiped at his cheeks, a move that did nothing to stem the flow of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. The sound of his own voice seemed to break his daze, and he covered his mouth as a faint sob escaped, cursing bitterly once again. He struggled against the tears for a few minutes longer before admitting defeat, falling back onto the bed and curling up amongst his books.
----
Cohen sat in his room, some time later. He walked back and forth, fiddling and twitching, unable to focus on a single activity. He considered taking his medication, but Clover had worked so hard to break his addiction to it that he was trying to maintain a lower dosage, dispite knowing that he could fix the problem with a single pill. It was part of it actually; the fact that he knew that he could gave him impetus to try not to, just to see what his fortitude could endure. As he meandered about, he suddenly heard a strange, muffled noise. He stopped, suddenly entirely focused on the sound. Listening intently, it lead him to the endtable in the far corner: a small cupboard. Not wanting to fall for an All trick or something, he drew his pistol and cautiously moved around to the side of the furniture. Slowly, he nudged open the door, and he saw Virgil curled up inside. Cohen sighed and put his gun away, "Tiny Monster, I have no idea how or why you got in there, but I nearly shot you. You shouldn't..." he trailed off as he noticed that the boy was crying: the source of the strange noises. He noted with some disgust that he seemed to care; this collar had no end to the annoyances it inflicted. "Why, out of every cupboard in the entire building, did you pick mine to sit in?"
With a frown and a slight growl, Virgil reached out and closed the door, shutting himself in again. "Cause!" was the response he recieved.
Cohen rolled his eyes and leaned on top of the inhabited endtable. "That's not a very good reason." He looked around, thoughtful for a moment, before frowning. "...How DID you get in here? You didn't sneak past me; I've kept the door shut. And it was locked before I came in. How on earth did you manage this?"
"Window was open."
His gaze whipped over to the balcony window, and noted that yes, the door was unlocked. Further, there was no way to access it other than that door. "...How did you possibly...?"
"Jumped. Not high."
With a gesture of disbelief, Cohen walked over to the balcony and looked out. The adjacent balconies were off-set; jumping from one to another was possible, but certainly not recommended. As he looked, he saw a sheet hanging down from an upper balcony. "...You jumped from a higher level?!" he exclaimed. "Why?!"
"Cause!" he asserted again, more forcefully.
"What would you have done if it was locked?" Cohen asked, returning to the table. 
"It wasn't."
Cohen groaned. He knelt in front of the drawer, "Did you hurt yourself?"
"No!" Cohen looked at the door dryly. "...Not really."
"Can I see?" He was given no reply. "...People call me a doctor for a reason, you know. I just want to make sure you didn't break anything." After a pause, the door slowly pushed itself open. A teary-eyed Virgil looked out at him. Cohen held out his hand, "What did you hurt?"
Virgil looked away and muttered, "...My ankle. My knee." Cohen gestured, and Virgil moved partly out. He showed him his injured leg, and the doctor gave it a cursory investigation.
After a moment, he stated, "Well, at least you didn't break anything. You're lucky." He stood up and walked over to his belongings; a few minutes later, he walked back with a small vial of blue-green liquid. He passed it to the boy, "Drink this, and don't jump off of balconies anymore. You're lucky you didn't break your leg."
Virgil nodded sadly and drank the healing potion. He made a face and passed the vial back, the bruise and sprain repairing themselves instantly. "Tastes like mint soap."
"Well, be glad I'm such a skilled alchemist then. It could very easily just taste like soap," he said sarcastically. Instead of responding to this though, the boy curled up and looked sadly away. Cohen sighed again, "Why are you in my drawer?"
Virgil stared hard into the middle distance. Cohen waited, sitting on the edge of the adjacent bed. Eventually, Virgil muttered, "...How do you keep from getting sad?"
"Hmn?" Cohen looked at him strangely.
"You...don't get sad. Just as much bad stuff happens, but you dont get sad. You're just...you get pretend grouchy, sometimes. How?"
Cohen frowned, "Why do you think I don't get sad? And why, for that matter, do you want to know how?"
"You don't," Virgil wiped at his eyes. "Dad gets sad, when he gets all quiet and wants to be alone. Mr. Komatsu does too. Lucca gets really upset an' he tries to look like he's not but he does. Clover an' Cress get sad too, and Mr. Webber gets really upset, like he's scared when he's sad. You don't." Virgil sniffed, "I don't wanna. I don't wanna be sad, an' I don't wanna make Lucca more sad, an'...an' I don't...I don't wanna..."
He was cut off by a knocking at the door. "Malcolm?" It was Victor's voice.
Virgil's eyes went wide and he dodged back into the cupboard. "Don't tell!!" he whispered, equal measures dire vehemence and pleading.
Rolling his eyes, Cohen stood up and walked back over to his alchemy kit. "Yes?"
Victor opened the door and stuck his head in. "Have you seen...anybody, honestly?" He looked vaguely concerned as he explained, "I thought the last few people were coming back today, but I haven't seen anyone, notably Virgil."
"Really? That's odd, they're certainly around," Cohen said casually, putting away his things. "Bastion is with Xander, learning the ritual. Ryuji is having something of a...personal crisis, apparently, he'll be around when he feels. And I saw Virgil not long ago, so he can't be too far."
"Was he with Lucca?" 
"Not when I happened to see him. But the two aren't usually far apart, so he's probably nearby as well."
Victor frowned concernedly, "Let me know if you find him, would you? I'd like to see him at some point."
"If I see him again, I'll let him know you're looking," Cohen said easily.
"Thank you," Victor added as he left once more. A moment passed as he finished straightening up, before returning to the bedside. He sat and waited.
Eventually, the door pushed open a bit again. "...You're a good liar..." Virgil said quietly.
"The trick is never saying anything actually false. By the way, your father is looking for you." Both parties gave small, wry smiles. "Keep in mind though, that nobody likes me and you shouldn't do what I do."
"People like you," Virgil said, wiping his eyes again. Cohen rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "...Well, I like you." This earned a slightly different expression, more of confusion than anything. "...Why'd he call you Malcolm?"
"Because that's my name."
"No one else calls you that. He...didn't, used to...call you that either..." Virgil's voice dropped off when he mentioned his father.
Cohen looked at him with a measure of softness, "Well, you know what's happened. Most people call each other by their first names. He forgot that people don't like to use my name, so he's been using that."
"People...don't like to?"
Cohen sighed, a thoughtful look on his face. He considered his approach carefully, not wanting the child to spread rumours, "They'd rather call me doctor, or Cohen. Because...when you go to a doctor's office for help, you don't use their first name, you call them doctor. I'm here because you all needed a doctor on this trip, so people call me doctor. I'm a doctor first, and a person second. Your father forgot that, and thinks that I'm a person first and a doctor second, so he's using my first name instead." Virgil frowned, thinking about this. "...It's alright, it really doesn't matter. My full name is Dr. Malcolm Cohen, so people can use whatever parts of that they want to. They're all my name." After another minute of thought, Virgil nodded. "...Now, do you want to tell me why you're hiding in here?" Virgil remained quiet. "...If I'm going to risk getting in trouble lying for you, I should at least get to know why I'm lying, shouldn't I?"
Eventually, he mumbled out from his arms, wrapped around his face, "...Don't wanna..."
"You don't want to tell me, or you don't want to see your father?" Cohen ventured. Virgil just turned away. After a few minutes of silence, Cohen changed the topic, "Why don't you want to be sad?"
"...Makes people more sad...Don't want people to be sad..." he whispered huskily.
"And you think I don't get sad?" Virgil nodded at this assessment. Cohen sighed, "Virgil, I do get sad. There just...aren't many things that make me sad. But...then there aren't many things that make me feel happy either. If you want to feel one, you need to feel the other. Do you like being happy?" Virgil nodded his head. "If you want to be happy, sometimes you also have to be sad. That's how it works. You said it earlier: I'm just always grouchy. Because I'm not sad or happy. If you don't want to be grouchy, and you do want to be happy, then you have to be sad too."
"...Does people being sad make you sad?"
Cohen fumbled at this question, "Uhm...not...usually, no...as I said, I don't often get sad..."
Virgil looked up at him, tears in his eyes. Wiping at his face, Virgil climbed out of the drawer and stood up. He sniffled a bit, trying to say something, then suddenly he launched himself at Cohen's waist, hugging him and bawling into his shirt.
"Oh dear sweet mother of gods..." Cohen muttered, looking at a loss at the child clinging to him. He moved his arms around, having no clue what to do with them, until eventually he settled on patting Virgil on the back. At first, Virgil tried to talk through his crying, but eventually gave up in the face of his sorrow. The child sobbed for a while, until he ran out of tears; Cohen sat patiently, though his expression was assuredly that of someone who desperately did not know what was going on. It was a while after his sobbing resided that the boy pulled his face out of Cohen's shirt and sat back up, sniffing and rubbing his red eyes. Cohen spent a thought on his soiled shirt before asking, "Well...do you...feel better?" Virgil shook his head and looked like he was about to begin crying again, but managed to hold it back. The doctor was at a loss, but decided to press forwards anyways, "...Why...are you so upset, anyways? I mean, I understand that it's bad, but..." 
"Dad...hic...Dad..." Virgil stuttered and stopped on the word several times before managing to choke out. "Dad...doesn't love me..."
Cohen mumbled unintelligibly under his breath, "All the gods of all the planes, why me..." He sighed, "He does, Virgil."
The boy shook his head vehemently, "He doesn't know me! If he forgot everythin', absolutely everythin', then he doesn't 'member me at all!" He gave a few broken sobs, but still lacked the tears to cry any more. "I'm not anybody, 'n Dad...Dad's different. He doesn't 'member me, an' he'll never 'member me, so...so what if he doesn't care? Wh-what if he doesn't...doesn't even like me anymore? What if...what if..." he broke off again.
Sighing, Cohen awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, which prompted Virgil to dive back into his waist again. The doctor muttered something about 'why me' again, looking to the sky for answers, then ventured, "...I...am terrible at...feelings, and I'm...sorry, this happened. But I really don't think you have to worry about that. He knows that you are his son. He knows that he cares about you, he just...forgets the memories of it. For now."
"That's the same thing!" Virgil said angrily, without removing his face from the doctor's shirt.
"It's...similar..." He exhaled, and gave the matter some thought, absently patting Virgil's back. Eventually, he said, "Alright. Your father has forgotten everything. This isn't the first time. He's forgotten everything before, before you were born. That's right?" Virgil nodded, face still mashed into Cohen's side. "So! If he's forgotten everything about himself, the only thing left are constants. Things that he can't forget, because it's who he is, not what he's learned. Does that make sense?" Virgil pulled back a bit, sniffing; he nodded slightly. "If he starts acting like a very different person, then it means that what he was like before he lost his memory was what he learned to act like. Not who he is. If he's still acting the same, it means he's like that no matter what. And that means he will always be that way, with or without his memories. If he's different now, it will only be until he gets his memory back. If he's the same, it will always be the same."
"He's...he's gonna get his memory back?" he asked hopefully. 
"Not now," Cohen said seriously. "It might be years and years and years. But the memories aren't gone. They are only hidden. They will come back, but probably not for a very, very long time. Don't start hoping that this will be fixed tomorrow. It won't. But it's not the point. The point is, there will be some things he does different, like call me Malcolm. He learned to call me Doctor, and he forgot that; now he calls me Malcolm. But there are also things that he is, and will never change. These things that don't change will be the same now, and I will bet will still be the same even when he gets all of his memories back." 
"Like...like when he's a devil again?"
"Yes. Even when he gets all of his memories and powers and body back, and he finds out he's..." Cohen rolled his eyes, looking for an example, "I don't know, some sort of adventuring hellknight, who goes around stopping criminals in Hell, he's still going to have those things the same."
"There are adventurers there?"
Cohen shrugged, "If there are problems, there are people who go around solving them. It's the same everywhere."
" 'N...'n you think Dad's an adventurer there too?"
"Well, when I told him an hour after he lost his memory that he was on a quest to save the world from invaders, he thought that was a very reasonable and good thing to be doing, so his desire to help the world has to be coming from somewhere. So he was an adventurer before, he's an adventurer now, which means he will always be the sort of person who adventures. Does that make sense?" 
"Y-yeah..." Virgil nodded, his sobs beginning to recede.  
"He knows that you are his son. He knows that you are his only child, and that you are very important to him. No, he doesn't remember it, so...yes, you are probably right, maybe he doesn't have all of his emotions in the right place yet but...well, he was looking for you, wasn't he?"
"...Yeah..."
"And I would say he sounded at least a bit worried, wouldn't you?"
"...I...I guess..."
"So, that means...?" Cohen trailed off.
"...Means...he always worries..." Virgil sniffed again.
"And he wouldn't worry if he didn't care at least some, I would imagine." Virgil nodded at this. "So. He might do some things different, but he is the sort of person who will always know that if you are his son, then you are someone to be worried and cared about. Honestly, you're going to worry about him not liking you, and here he is, fretting about where you are and he hasn't met you yet," he said wryly. "In a few weeks, there will be almost no difference, and by a year, it will be like it never happened. I think you'll be surprised, how much the same he is." Virgil looked calmer now, though not happy by a long shot. "Do you want to see him? Otherwise he's going to be wandering around looking for you all day, getting worried that you don't like him."
Virgil frowned at that, "Nuh uh."
"Why wouldn't he? He was told he has a son, but now he's hiding from him? That's mean, and that's saying something, coming from a mean person."
Virgil looked confused, then frowned again, "You're not a mean person."
"I am a very mean person. You don't become a villain by being nice," he said smugly.
Virgil considered this. "...You're a kinda mean person."
"Alright, I can accept that." The pair sat quietly for a moment. "Well?"
Virgil muttered something unintelligable. When Cohen asked him to speak up, he shoved his face back into Cohen's side once more. " 'M scared..." he mumbled.
"Do you want me to get Lucca?"
"No!" He muttered as an afterthought, "Don't wanna make him more sad, 'cause I'm sad."
"Oy, that's...that's not a good way to act, but I'm not going to address that now. I have limits. Do you want me to come with you?" Virgil thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head. "Alright, come on then." He helped Virgil stand up as he got up himself. He looked at his shirt and sighed, "Give me a minute then. My shirt appears to have gotten wet."
"M'sorry..." Virgil mumbled.
"It's fine. You can do my laundry." Virgil moved over to the door and waited until Cohen followed, and the two walked out into the hallway. They walked up and down the halls, until they spied a man with dark hair coming out of a room. Virgil moved to hide behind Cohen, as the doctor called over, "I appear to have found your erstwhile offspring."
Victor gave a short sigh of relief. "Where was he? No one had seen him anywhere," he said as he walked over.
"Around, I suppose. He's not large; he can fit in small places." The two closed the gap between them. "This," he gestured behind him, "is Virgil." Victor looked at the small figure trying to hide behind the doctor's coat; his expression became fretful, and he knelt down to match Virgil's height. He peered around to Cohen's side, and Virgil did the same.
"...Hi..." Virgil said quietly.
"Hello," Victor replied. Both of them looked at the other awkwardly, timidly. 
Cohen watched the both of them for a minute as they stood in silence. "For the love of..." he muttered. "You, take your child. You, he's not going to bite." Cohen reached around and moved Virgil forward. "I know you are both absolutely terrified of each other, but this is just silly."
Virgil looked up at Cohen with a hint of feared betrayal, unhappy that he had been pushed forward. He turned to his father, and saw that he was indeed looking awkwardly at the ground, hand behind his head. Virgil blinked at this a few times. Eventually he said, very quietly, "Why...are you afraid?"
Victor looked up, expression odd. "I'm not, I'm just...I..." he fumbled.
Cohen leaned down, and explained, "He's very worried that he's going to do something wrong, that he's going to act differently, and you aren't going to like him anymore." The child looked at his father with a bit of disbelief; Victor looked down awkwardly again, blushing slightly. "Now, I would like to test something. Both of you, follow me." With that, he began to walk away. Both of the others followed after him immediately, awkward in each others' presence. Cohen led them back to Victor's room. "You, sit there. You, there," he gestured pointedly as he went to Victor's bag. The other two took their positions as the doctor retrieved a violin from the bag of holding. "As I said, I'm interested in testing something." He passed the instrument to Victor. Gesturing to Virgil, he said, "Turn around, could you? You've got the better ear for music, I'm guessing, so you're going to judge something."
"...Ok," Virgil said warily, rotating about.
"Now, you," turning back to Victor, "I'm wondering. You have no memory, but you have skills still, yes?"
"I suppose," Victor replied.
"Play it."
"Huh?"
Cohen gestured to the violin with his eyes. "Play it."
Victor looked warily at the violin case. "I...I don't remember how," he said, a bit sadly.
"That's because you're thinking about it. You forget the memories of learning to play. But playing instruments takes muscle memory. How much do you want to bet you didn't really learn from scratch last time either? Violins aren't simple creatures to master; you were playing it better a few weeks ago than your handful of years of casual practice suggest you could do. So stop thinking about it, and see what your muscles remember. Close your eyes, if it helps." Victor frowned self-consciously, but did as Cohen ordered. He took the instrument out of its case, closed his eyes, brought the violin into position and slowly drew the bow across its strings, making a long, clear note. Cohen had moved near Virgil, across the room; he grinned slightly. "See? If you honestly didn't know, that would have made a horrible sound. So you remember that much. Now. Try and play something. Don't think about it. Just...do what comes to you." Victor's face became one of concentration. After a minute of silence, he began to attempt to play. As he played the first few scattered notes, Cohen said quietly to Virgil, "Now. Let's see what he remembers." At first, the notes were random and off-key. Soon though, he produced a scale. Victor smiled slightly as he proved that knowledge to himself, and he repeated it a few times. "Play something else. Try to play a song," Cohen encouraged. Taking on a look of concentration again, Victor began to play a series of notes. He experimented, starting and stopping, trying different measures. As he played, Virgil listened. At first he sat uncomfortably, upset as he was; as Victor played, he became more uncomfortable until suddenly, his face pricked up. He listened intently to the broken measures, thinking hard, until he whispered up at Cohen, "That's...that's the song he plays...when I go to bed...It's...it's all messed up, an' in the wrong order...but...those are the parts of it..."
"Well, of course," Cohen replied quietly. "I'm sure he's played that song thousands of times. It only makes sense that he remembers it. He just needs help to remember how to do it properly. He doesn't want to play it wrong." He looked down at Virgil, with a hint of smugness, "He remembers you. He cares about you far more than a song. But he needs help to remember how to do it properly. And he wants to do it properly." He smiled sardonically, "So are you going to be upset at him for playing wrong, or are you going to teach him the way he usually plays it?" 
Virgil looked up at him, and his eyes began to fill with tears again. He nodded his head and, wiping his eyes, stood up. He moved across the room in an instant and threw himself on his father, who jerked forward, having not seen it coming. With a look of shock, he put down the instrument and put his arms about Virgil. "What's wrong?"
"I'm...I'm sorry..." Virgil stuttered out between sobs. "I'm sorry I was mean...an'...an' I'm sorry I was scared, an'...an'..."
"Shh, shh," Victor hushed as he slid out of his chair to hug the boy. "What are you apologizing for? Don't be sorry." He looked up at Cohen with a mix of confusion and accusation. Cohen, smirking, put his hands up in a sarcastic gesture of avoiding blame. "Don't be sorry."
Virgil cried for a short while, before pulling back and looking up at his father. With a look of gravity, fear and insistance, he asked, "If you leave, what are you gonna to do?"
"What? I'm not going to leave..."
"If you do!" Virgil cut him off. "If you leave, what are you gonna do?!"
Victor blinked at this, then took a deep breath, considering this question very carefully. Virgil looked at him with intense restlessness, needing to hear the right answer. "If I leave..." Victor said slowly, "If I leave you...it won't be because I want to...because you're my son. So if I had to leave, I would bring you with me...and if I couldn't, right away, I'd come back."
Virgil's lips trembled, and he added quietly, "No matter what?"
"Of course. No matter what." At this, Virgil threw himself back into the hug with a renewed vigour. Victor returned the embrace, "Why are you worried I'll leave?"
"You said you'd come back. You said it before, so you'll always say it, an' you'll always come back," Virgil explained. As this went on, Cohen subtly made his way to the door.
"I..." Victor started, then hugged the boy tighter, "I promise I'll always come back, no matter what."
While the two were focused on each other, Cohen slipped out into the hallway. He muttered to himself as he closed the door carefully, "Oyyy, that was somethin-ack!" He started as he turned around almost into Lucca, who had been making to enter the door he had just left. The druid nimbly twisted about to avoid the man and gave him a startled, questioning look. "Oy," Cohen brought his palm to his forehead. "Sorry." Gesturing to the door, he added, "They're having a bit of a moment. I'm sure you can go join their group hug though." He made an exaggerated expression, "Quite enough hugging for me for one day."
"Oh..." Lucca's gaze returned to the door, and he bit his lip uncertainly. After a second's delay he sidestepped out of Cohen's way, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Cohen regarded him for a second then groaned into his hands. "Uuugh, not you too." He sighed, "Alright. What's bothering you? I swear I will be a qualified therapist by the time this is resolved."
"...What?" He shot the older man a confused look, laced with an undertone of indignation, "I didn't ask you to do anything, dude, frig. Go, do whatever, have fun." He made a vague shooing motion, sounding more weary than anything.
"Fun. Yes, everything about this screams fun," Cohen said. "Ugh. I'm sorry. We're all stressed. I just spent the last hour with a child crying on me, and that is something I never would have suspected I would have had to handle. At any rate, you're tired, and my method of speech never goes over well with tired people." He took a few steps away, "But I suppose, if you're lacking for a better option, you can feel free to discuss whatever has you hesitating outside of your family's door. Seeing as how you're the only one to consistently speak on my behalf, I likely owe you that." He walked off down the hall, adding sarcastically, "My door isn't open, so much as it isn't capable of being closed in a fashion that actually keeps anyone out!"
Lucca watched him leave with a small uncertain frown as he considered the uncharacteristic offer. With a slight shake of his head he returned his attention to the door and after a few more moments gave a soft sigh. Giving single knock to announce his presence, he let himself in.
Inside, he saw both Erzebets holding their violins. "Naw, it's down then up, see?" Virgil played a short measure.
Victor watched closely. "Alright, this?" He played the measure back.
"Yeah! Now, that one goes before the dee-deedly-dee-dee-doooo part, not the one you did."
The older man smirked at the description. "So, it should be..." he trailed off as he played a section of music. Virgil nodded. Victor looked over towards Lucca, "I'm getting a music lesson."
"I can see that," He answered quietly, offering a small smile. "I heard one of you playing...mind if I join you?" He glanced between the two of them, his question meant for one as much as the other. Virgil shook his head; Victor smiled, "Of course not."
"Now, the first part is..." Virgil began to play, with Victor playing after, quickly picking up the melody. It wasn't long before they were playing together. Lucca sat and listened contentedly as the two played the familiar song, played so many times over the last seven years that, even for the one who didn't remember ever hearing it before, it seemed warm and reminded them all of home.
Category:Advent of the All