A/N: If you need me, I'll be dying in the corner because these two are too tragic.
This was originally going to be a fic about Ludger feeling guilty for killing Julius in that first fractured world. Then my friend mentioned Julius has probably had to kill Ludger a time or two as well, and everything went downhill from there.
This takes place about a year before the events of the game. It can be seen as shippy love or sibling love (I didn't have one or the other in mind while writing this, so just read it as whichever you prefer).
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Anyone can be a catalyst.
That was one of the first lessons Julius had to learn when he took on the responsibility of destroying fractured dimensions. In one of the earliest missions he went on, the catalyst was a tiny elderly woman who honestly looked as if she'd keel over any minute if he just left her alone (she didn't, of course, and she put up one hell of a fight at that). He's lost count of how many worlds he's destroyed now, but usually the catalysts are nobody he knows because, well, anyone can be a catalyst.
But that means the catalyst can sometimes be his brother.
It doesn't happen often. Those he clearly remembers; he's killed—no, eliminated, killing carries too negative a meaning—three versions of Ludger in the 17 years he's spent doing this. He thinks the deaths of those men might be more painful to him than to the fractured Ludgers themselves. It always makes him feel like he's been punched in the gut when he realizes the catalyst is Ludger of all people in a given world. Fortunately, the likelihood of it being your average Joe is considerably greater than it being Ludger.
But not always.
This is one of those times, where the less than 1% chance of the catalyst being Ludger becomes reality. Julius doesn't know for sure (or he may be in denial) until he reaches their apartment, only planning on resting for a few minutes but being greeted with an hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a cheerful "welcome home, Julius!"
The Ludger he knows never greets him like that. Julius is caught so off guard that he's only able to blink down at his brother for a few seconds. Ludger is holding onto Julius's wrists and leaning back on his heels, an amiable smile playing on his lips, and he looks more childish than Julius has ever seen him.
"I'm home," the older man tests after a moment, because even though all of his instincts and training are telling him this is the catalyst, maybe it isn't really.
He lets Ludger tug him inside, the door swinging shut behind him. Ludger's arms wrap around his brother's shoulders. "How was work?" he asks. "Did you miss me?"
It's nice—but that's the problem. Ludger doesn't do this sort of thing. He isn't opposed to displays of affection but rarely shows them without reason, and he's never this talkative. He hardly talks at all if he can avoid it. He never welcomes Julius home with anything more than a smile, which, really, is enough. It's strange to see him like this, and it's clear that he's "the one who differs the most from reality" in this dimension.
"Of course I missed you," Julius replies, playing along (and it isn't a lie anyway). Ludger smiles broadly and pulls him down onto the couch, and Julius tries to do his Chromatus transformation as he falls on top of his brother, tries to stab him before Ludger can realize something is wrong, but he's too slow. Ludger gasps as Julius's skin goes gray and black and yellow, and he slips out from beneath him and shies away with a look of fear and confusion. Julius's blade catches his arm as Ludger retreats, clearly acting more on instinct than anything else.
"What are you doing?" Ludger stammers, and that's more than he would say in the prime dimension even if this were to happen. His flesh turns black and his eyes and mouth turn a stark violet as the sight of his own blood and his brother's apparent betrayal throws him into the rage Julius needs to confirm Ludger is the catalyst. "Are you trying to kill me, Julius? Have you lost your mind?"
Julius doesn't answer. He transforms back at the forced realization that he'll have to fight so that he doesn't waste his Chromatus abilities. He swings his blades at Ludger, his eyes cold as he focuses only on the job in front of him. Ludger is fast; Julius knows he trained his little brother well in the prime world, but he appears to have done an even better in this dimension. Ludger's swords are drawn in a heartbeat, slashing and hacking and meeting Julius's with a loud metal clang. This fractured Ludger is quick enough that he gets a few blows in on Julius, tips of his blades drawing blood from Julius's cheek and chest and arm. His foot connects with Julius's knee and blows it out. Julius has a split second of fear that he'll be the one to die in this dimension, but adrenaline kicks in to numb the pain and he's right back up before Ludger has a chance to even think about killing him.
When Julius is lucky, he can nullify the catalyst without having to fight, but he's forced to realize, as Ludger's swords hit his with so much force that sparks fly, he's going to have to—
Ah.
There's not even enough time to finish that thought before his body moves on its own to do it. Before Julius can fully comprehend the situation, he hears a gross choking noise and sees dimly that he's stabbed one of his blades through Ludger's neck. It must be an inch or so away from the jugular, but it looks to have still severed a number of nerves and muscles. His other blade sinks deep into Ludger's abdomen automatically as the younger man goes still, and although he can't tell for sure, Julius would guess it has punctured his spleen, completely ruptured it by the way he feels hot blood soaking into his clothes at an alarming rate. Ludger's own swords fall to the ground with a clatter as his skin and eyes change back to those of a normal human. His mouth opens; foamy blood collects on his lips as his throat works to make more than a gargling sound, but it's his eyes Julius can't look away from, blown and shocked with their bright color dulled. There are even tears gathering along his lashes, and they fall down his cheeks as he manages, "why?"
"Forgive me," Julius replies stiffly. "I had no choice." He says similar words to all those he has to eliminate, but they carry a heavier weight when it's Ludger dying in his arms.
And then Ludger smiles, and that's even worse than the tears. "I do…" he chokes, tone surprisingly gentle despite the fact that he's drowning in his own god damn blood.
Julius doesn't know what to say to that, doesn't think he should say anything because there's nothing to say. Forgiving Julius for killing him? That's a little too much like the Ludger he knows and loves. As this Ludger's limbs give a final twitch and still and his—its—head droops over Julius's arm, utterly lifeless, Julius has to fight the urge to clutch his little brother's body to his chest (which would be both unprofessional and entirely pointless, and it's not his brother anyway). Instead, he transforms once more, stabs the body, removes the blade as gently as he can, and lowers Ludger to the floor, grateful beyond words when this reality shatters around him and sends him hurtling back into his reality.
By the time he finishes turning in his report and meeting with the president of Spirius Corporation, Julius is so tired he can barely make it back to his apartment. He just wants to sleep. That way, he can pretend none of this ever happened, because in this dimension it didn't, that killing Ludger was just the bad dream it felt like. A glance at his watch tells him it's after midnight, and he's glad it's so late since it means he won't have to see Ludger until morning. He's quite good at keeping his composure, but when he's this exhausted and rattled it's apt to slip, and he doesn't want his little brother to see him as anything but strong.
He opens the door to the apartment quietly on the off chance that Ludger is still up, but he didn't have to worry. Ludger is sleeping; that's clear the second Julius walks through the door. His little brother is lying on the couch, Rollo curled up in his lap, and it's clear he didn't really mean to fall asleep like that. One of Ludger's long legs is on the couch while the other is half off, and between the arching of his back and the too steep angle of his neck, he can't possibly be comfortable. He's wearing his pajamas, and Julius can see the sharp lines of his collarbone curling up from beneath the black fabric of his shirt. It's odd to see his throat bared like this, so soft and delicate that it seems impossible for him to still be alive. There are no scars marking his pale skin, no blood, just the small up and down motion of his chest as he breathes slowly.
Julius lays his coat over the back of a chair and grabs a blanket from his room. He returns to pull it over Ludger—or, at least, that's his intention. When he gets close, Rollo's eyes open, and the cat meows loudly in greeting. Julius groans internally as Ludger's eyes blink open slowly as well.
Rollo hops down to rub against Julius's leg as the younger man sits up with a yawn. "Julius," Ludger murmurs, and it's a better welcome home than the one he received in the fractured dimension because it's his Ludger now.
"You shouldn't have waited up for me," Julius scolds as Ludger straightens up further and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He lets the blanket fall onto the arm of the couch and crouches to scratch Rollo behind the ears. "You fell asleep anyway."
Ludger gives him a sheepish smile. "You were late. I was worried." His voice is as soft as ever, so very different from the solid, confident tone of the fractured version. Even though Julius didn't particularly want to talk to him or even see him, he still finds a sort of solace in the familiarity.
Julius can't help but be a little touched by that, and he stands. "You don't have to worry. I always—" he starts to reassure Ludger, but his brows knit together in surprise as his brother's eyes suddenly go wide and terrified.
Ludger is on his feet before Julius can ask what's wrong. The younger man presses desperate hands against Julius's abdomen, and it takes a few seconds for Julius to realize he's searching for a wound he's not going to find. Julius doesn't need to look down to know that his shirt is still covered with blood, and his little brother must think it's his (a fair assumption at that).
"Ludger— Ludger, I'm fine," Julius mutters, clasping the younger man's wrists and jerking them away from him. "It's not mine. It's okay. Calm down." Idiot. How do you forget about blood in your clothes? Ludger's face is pale with fear, his eyes suspicious as he searches his brother's to make sure he's not lying, and Julius ruffles his hair with a sigh. "If I were bleeding this badly, do you really think I would be standing here as if nothing were wrong?"
Ludger drops his gaze and shakes his head, embarrassment at his overreaction coloring his cheeks pink. His attention lands on his hands, and he makes a disgusted face at the sight of blood on his fingers because it's still somebody's blood.
And then it's Julius's turn to overreact. He shoves Ludger away from him with so much force that the younger man stumbles and lands back on the couch with a yelp. He casts Julius a hurt, accusatory glance, but there's still that blood on his hands, his blood, and it's ironic that it's his blood but not really his blood that Julius almost laughs.
"Just… clean that off and go to bed. I'm going to take a shower and throw my clothes in the wash. I'll see you in the morning." Ludger tilts his head in confusion at the abrupt dismissal, and Julius slips into the bathroom before Ludger can ask any questions. He closes the door hard behind him and leans against it heavily. "Goodnight," he calls, and he hears a hesitant "night" in return.
Getting ready for bed after returning from a fractured dimension is always an ordeal. The hot water of the shower feels good on his sore muscles, but Ludger's blood has firmly attached itself to his skin, and by the third time he scrubs too forcefully the water just burns. It hurts even worse on the cuts he forgot he had, the marks left by Ludger that ensure Julius won't be able to forget about the incident any time soon.
Get out of the shower, towel off, put ointment and bandages on your injuries, pull on your pajamas, throw the clothes in the washer… Julius is going about the actions without thinking at this point, because they're just as routine to him as anything else. He's pleased to see Ludger's door is closed and the light is off by the time he comes out of the bathroom.
Finally, blissfully, he collapses in bed and waits for sleep to overtake him.
It doesn't.
Even though his body aches and his mind is hardly functioning, sleep just won't come. Every time he starts to drift off, something wakes him right back up: a vivid mental image of Ludger lying bloody and broken beneath him, an imagined metallic odor hitting his nose, a meow from Rollo that his brain turns into an agonized scream…
He sort of feels like screaming himself in frustration.
He flips onto his back, glances at the clock, and grimaces when he sees that it reads 3:48 AM. His gaze goes to the wall dividing his and Ludger's room, and it's funny how you can miss someone when you're really only a few feet away.
Julius's bed is all at once too cold, the room too dark, leaving his mind drifting with nowhere to throw down anchor, and even though he doesn't really want to (it's embarrassing to admit he isn't okay by himself), he knows what he's going to do.
Ludger only half wakes at the rustling of sheets at his side. He thought he closed the door, but apparently Rollo managed to push it open. Oh well. He was having a pleasant dream when Rollo snuck in, something about him winning an enormous cooking competition, and he's eager to return to it and claim his reward.
He's in the process of falling back asleep when he feels an arm fall over his waist, and that's unexpected enough to wake him up fully because that's definitely not his cat.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
Oh… Not, that's certainly not Rollo. It's Julius. There would be no mistaking that soothing voice of his even if it could have been someone else. "S'okay," Ludger whispers back. He wants to ask why his brother is in his bed at 4 in the morning, but it's such a strange occurrence that he almost feels like he shouldn't.
"I can leave if I'm bothering you," Julius murmurs, voice coming close to Ludger's ear, and there's an unfamiliar edge to his low voice. He may have offered to go, but he's drawing his arm up so it's wrapped around Ludger's chest. It seems to contradict his comment, and besides, Ludger doesn't really want him to leave anyway.
"No…" Ludger replies with a yawn. He shifts so Julius can hold him better, even if he doesn't really understand why he's being held in the first place.
At Ludger's little noise of curiosity, Julius chuckles, but there's no mirth to it. "Yes. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."
That's good enough for Ludger. They haven't slept together in years, not since Ludger was scared of thunderstorms or one of them had a nightmare. It was common enough for them to share a bed when they were younger, but eventually, it just stopped happening. Julius is pleasantly warm, and even though he's made of harder edges than Ludger remembers, everything about him is as comforting as ever.
Ludger could easily fall back asleep like this. He almost does; he's drifting off when he suddenly realizes Julius is shaking. He thinks at first his brother might be cold because it's the only explanation he can come up with, but it's far too hot with them both so close together under the blankets for that to be possible. Then he hears a barely audible "damn it" and "why," and even though it's obvious he wasn't supposed to hear that, he can't help but react. He rolls over with a soft, concerned noise and wraps his own arms around Julius as best he can, bumping his nose against Julius's chin to ask if he's alright.
"I'm okay. You're okay."
That just makes Ludger more worried. Obviously he's okay. That wasn't the question. "Did something happen at work?" he wonders.
At that, Julius's embrace tightens vice-like to the point of pain. Ludger flinches, and when he whines quietly, Julius loosens it as if he hadn't realized what he was doing in the first place and lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah," he admits then goes silent once more.
Ludger waits for an explanation, but it never comes. He accepts that. Hearing Julius say something is wrong is more than he normally gets, so he's content to mirror the older man's silence. He closes his eyes, nuzzles into the crook of Julius's neck, and feels Julius bury his face in his hair. He makes an affectionate sound, hoping it will be reassuring, and when it doesn't seem to help he hugs Julius a little closer.
Over time, Julius's shaking stops and his breathing evens out as he finally falls asleep. Long before that, Ludger finds himself unable to stay awake. He tries; he wants to make sure Julius really is okay, but he's tired and he's comfortable and sleepiness hits him too hard to fight. The last thing he hears before he drifts off is a whispered "thank you," and it makes him smile against his brother's skin to know he's doing something right, even if that something is lying silently by his side. So he doesn't respond, doesn't do anything at all.
He just lets Julius hold onto him so tightly it's as if he's trying to hold together the world.