Clack, Clack.
Even the jarring sound of the scissors in his hands was a comfort to Vincent's nerves at the moment. He had foreseen it, of course – the day when Gilbert would finally remember everything from back then. But still, he'd hoped that the day would be put off so Gilbert would be free from the torture and the pain of Sabrie. Even those memories of Vincent himself which he treasured privately, he would gladly have sacrificed if it would have spared him the agony.
Seeking out the downcast amber eyes of his brother now, he was frightened by how damaged Gilbert looked. The trauma of the past few days showed visibly – dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, a faint quiver to those slender fingers as they held a cigarette. He'd wanted to hold him tight close to him, soothe him to sleep, stroke the trembling from his body.
But that wasn't possible now, no more than it had been before with the Vessalius boy.
He knew he should feel happy that Gilbert was willingly by his side now, no longer fighting against him. But he wasn't really by Vincent's side – he was on his side. One Master replaced by another and Gilbert belonged to Leo now, just as he'd once belonged to Oz and to Oswald but never Vincent, never to him. He could understand if his brother had felt attraction to Leo, a suffocating desire to be around him. But the limpness of Gilbert's movements, the defeated look in his eyes all seemed to speak of apathy. It was as if Gilbert was there not through choice, but through some confused sense of obligation or control. Did he even know where he was meant to be now?
This damaged him, Vincent thought. More than I realised, this has damaged him.
His eyes flickered away to their shared Master; Leo seated calmly, one hand carelessly thrown on Gilbert's shoulder. For a brief second, he felt a flash of hate, felt the stirring of Demios in his chest. Leo must have sensed the danger as his dark eyes blinked coolly in Vincent's direction, almost daring to summon his chain, to object to this.
Vincent sighed and forced himself to look away, stilled the anger which Demios fed upon. A soft word from his lips and Echo was by his side, her gaze as open and trusting as ever. He trailed hands through her soft hair roughly. He supposed his touch hurt herm was too rough but she didn't flinch, didn't move away as ever. But still, it didn't ease the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that somehow this was wrong. It had all been going wrong since his adopted brother died, since Leo had awoken as Glen. Hadn't Elliot always been the one who'd kept Leo stable? He'd tried to take his place but Leo had never shown any affection for him, not that he'd expected it. He hadn't minded the abuse, the shrinking away – well, it was still more attention than Gilbert showed him.
He wasn't sure if it was the Glen inside his Master which drew him towards Gilbert but Leo seemed to cling to him and keep him close. Or perhaps, just perhaps he thought seeing the faint smile on Leo's lips – perhaps it was simply his way of getting revenge upon Vincent. To torment him for bringing him into the world of the Baskerville's, for dragging him away from Elliot's cold body, for simple daring to be devoted to him.
And of course Gilbert, poor Gilbert, was too broken and too muddled to take much notice of anything around him. So, what to do? Of course, the answer was nothing. While Gilbert remained here, so he too must stay and wait and watch, even if it would kill him to do so. But then, that was nothing new – he'd never lived for anyone else other than his brother and that wasn't about to change.