Water Under the Bridge
Chapter 2
The days continued to pass but the sun failed to rise. The hours and days elapsed in a dark and dreary haze and everyone longed for the glow of the sun's rays. It was no longer feasible to simply look out the window and use the sun and its position in the sky to judge the time of day. Would they ever get used to this new world?
Gladiolus, Prompto, and Ignis sat around the dining table in the corner of their shared hotel room, cleaned up but wearied. The last few nights saw them sleeping harder than they ever had before, unmoving and dead to the world. If it weren't for the alarm that Ignis routinely set every night before bed, it was almost certain they'd sleep for days on end. The stress of their trek across Niflheim and Lucis started to settle into their muscles and joints and they agonized to each other over the aches and pains.
"I don't think I could lift a freakin' cotton ball if I tried. My shoulders are killing me," Prompto griped, digging his fingers into the traps of his shoulders in a bad attempt at a self-massage.
"You're telling me. There aren't enough bandages in the world to cover up the blisters on my feet," Gladio commiserated. Prompto made a face, sticking his tongue out in disgust. That made Gladio faintly laugh, but even the act of laughing caused him to wince in pain, his muscles sore and tight in his abdomen.
"What about you, Iggy? You've been awfully quiet over there. Feeling ok?" Prompto nudged the advisor in the arm with a closed fist, but he still stared blankly ahead. "Iggy?"
Ignis snapped out of his trance-like state. "Oh, did you say something?"
Prompto tilted his head. "Yeah, are you ok? You look beat."
Ignis took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, done more out of habit when he was stressed or tired than anything. He replaced the glasses on his face and looked to Prompto's general location, faking a smile. "Never better."
"How the . . . Come on! Gladio and I can't be the only ones who are in pain over here. "
"Ah, give it a rest, Prom. Iggy wouldn't tell us he was in any sort of pain, even if his life depended on it. Can't let anyone think he's anything but 100% at all times," Gladio divulged lightheartedly. They all smiled, knowing it was true.
A sharp knock startled them and silenced their conversation. The door flew open and Cor stood in the entryway with his katana in hand. There was an obvious emergency, but, in typical Cor fashion, his reaction was expertly composed. "Daemons in the northeast. Let's go," was all he said before speeding off down the stairs.
No other instructions necessary, the three knocked their chairs back and dashed about the room, trying to get ready. As Ignis found his shoes, Gladio held an arm out, effectively prohibiting him from putting them on. "No, you're not coming."
Ignis brought his face up, stunned. Had he heard him right? "Pardon?"
The frantic atmosphere abruptly turned tense and awkward. Prompto stopped lacing his shoes but didn't look up. Gladio shook his head. "Prompto and I talked at length about this the other day and we've agreed that you've gotta stay here. I know you want to go, believe me, but right now you staying here is for the best."
Ignis balked, snapping his head to where he thought Prompto was getting ready. His face contorted into a look of anger and betrayal. "Prompto? You, too?"
Prompto bit his lower lip and avoided his friend's mutilated glower. He had nothing to say that would appease Ignis or absolve himself from going behind his back and agreeing with Gladio. He fidgeted with his laces and adjusted his socks more than necessary.
Gladio's voice brought Ignis' attention back on him. "Trust us, this is for the best. We'll be back soon and, when we do, we can play cards or something," he feebly persuaded.
What a slap to the face. "You know we haven't played cards in months, Gladio," Ignis curtly brought up. A wave of embarrassment washed over Gladio at the fact he clearly forgot this small tidbit.
Prompt and Gladio's weapons materialized within their hands, but Prompto still dodged Ignis' steely glare. "Sorry dude, but Gladio's right. I . . . we don't want anything to happen to you."
Ignis rose to his feet, his arms rigid by his side. "I don't think you two understand-."
"No, you don't understand." Gladio pointed a finger at Ignis' face, his voice loud and heated as he stepped closer to him. "Stop trying to prove that you're the same person you were before Altissia. For the love of the Six, you're blind, Ignis! Your eyesight is gone and it's not coming back! We can't babysit you everytime there's a battle, worrying about your safety or our own. Don't you remember saying once that you'd bow out if you weren't able to keep up?"
Ignis stiffened. He remembered those words well. They were spoken back in Cartanica to get the group to reconcile after being so incredibly hostile toward each other. Everyone was discouraged that the Altissian battle had gone so wrong and they struggled to come to terms with the outcome. Back then, Gladio was adamant against bringing Ignis any further on their quest to Gralea, guilt-ridden at the notion that he was unable to save his friend from the harm that befell him. Ignis swore that he'd be fine if they just gave him the chance to show them. And they did. They forged on with Ignis in tow, but it just wasn't the same.
With his shoulders rolled back and a nearly-imperceptible scowl on his lips, Ignis almost looked threatening enough to take on the large bodyguard before him. Gladio, however, wasn't looking for a fight. "Ignis, I'm sorry, but I need you to remember that promise that you made. It's not fair to us and it's not fair to you that you come along on these missions anymore. So, I'm asking you, please, stay here and wait for us to get back," he implored, staring hard at the face of his friend and longtime ally. Refusing to hear anything else Ignis had to say on the matter (for fear he may change his mind and want to bring him along), Gladio left, his heavy footsteps heading toward the still-opened door and down the stairs with Prompto's feather-light steps toddling behind.
Ignis remained frozen in the middle of the room, mind completely blank and stomach ice-cold. His worst fears had been realized-left behind while his friends rushed headlong into battle without him, all because of a stupid injury that took his sight. He felt his feet robotically take him to the door and, in a surprising fit of rage, he slammed it as hard as he could. Doing so felt cathartic and a small part of him hoped the act would resonate with Gladio and Prompto if they were still nearby. It wasn't like him to lash out in, especially when he was always the one who remained composed and stoic in his emotions. But, in this moment, he felt helpless. Hopeless. Useless.
What was his purpose anymore? Until now, his whole life had been based around Noct. There was no such thing as a 'childhood', a 'social calendar' as a teenager was unheard of, and forget that little thing called 'free time'. Now, with Noctis gone for however long, Ignis felt lost. Coupled with the fact that not even his friends wanted him to fight with them—no matter how sound their arguments—and it was enough to drive him to the brink of insanity.
Running both hands through his unstyled hair and clasping them behind his neck, he hung his head in defeat. What else could he do right now to pass the time that didn't require sight? Play King's Knight? Nope. Discover new recipes? Negative. Play solitaire? What a joke. He could take a nap, but Ignis associated naps with laziness and he was far from the lazy type.
He wondered if the Lestallum market was open, despite the situation they were in. It wouldn't be near as busy as it used to be (if it were busy at all), but anything was better than remaining cooped up in the room all alone and bored. He picked his cane up from the ground beside his side of the bed and locked up the room behind him.
The humidity hung lazily in the air, bringing instant perspiration to his forehead as he made the short trek to the marketplace. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to do once he got there. Sure, he had some recipes memorized, but even if he did get the ingredients, it wasn't like he was comfortable asking Prompto and Gladio for assistance in the kitchen. That was his domain and he wasn't about to debase himself anymore by asking them to help with the cooking.
Upon entering the—what he could assume was deserted by the lack of noise and sound-marketplace, he heard Aranea commanding her cohorts, Biggs and Wedge, off to the side. "Gentlemen, we've gotten word that there are survivors over by the Rock of Ravatough. We've been given orders to mobilize at a nearby haven as soon as possible to assess the damage and rescue anyone we can, so get ready to suit up and head out."
"Oi! 'Ave you gone mad? Howdya expect us to get out tha' way without so much as a vehicle? It'd take us all day to get there, never mind the daemons!" Biggs asked, not at all wanting to walk the hundred-some-odd miles to their destination.
"Suck it up, buttercup. They want us to save the masses? We're gonna do it by any means necessary," Aranea said, still engrossed in reading something from the dossier in her hand. She flipped a few pages and held the papers to the wall, scribbling some notes in the margin with a pen, the cap dangling from her mouth.
"Ari, you can't be serious! The three of us? Rescuing people who may be dead by now? You're a right git, you know tha'?" Wedge slighted her, his hands flailing wildly in the air.
Aranea, focused on the papers with the pen cap in her mouth, pushed him away with a hand to his face. "Shut up and go sit down. You're annoying me."
Ignis, eavesdropping off to the side and still stewing from being left behind by his friends, stepped forward. "Room for one more on this mission?"
The three jumped in surprise and turned around, noticing him standing there with an awkward type of certainty. They blinked, confused, and then Aranea began to laugh as if he'd told the funniest joke. Once she started, she couldn't stop. Ignis frowned. "Is something funny?"
Wiping away tears, Aranea spoke between her laughter. "How the hell do you expect to help us when you probably need help getting dressed in the morning?"
"Excuse me?" Ignis' jawline was taut and he gripped the top of his cane a little tighter, offended at Aranea's outright insult and jab at his condition.
Still unable to get ahold of herself, she doubled over and covered her mouth to muffle her snickering. When she realized she was the only one laughing, she looked up and saw Ignis wasn't even cracking so much as a smirk. Her giggling stopped. "Oh. Oh, shit. You're serious?"
He remained still, his gaze planted firmly on her. Intrigued, she thrust her folder into Biggs' chest and walked to Ignis. Although she was half a foot shorter than him, her high-heeled boots and confidence made her appear much taller. She scrutinized him carefully as he stared vacantly at her through his tinted glasses, waiting for her response. After a moment, she shook her head. "Hell no, I don't think so."
"Why?"
"You really want me to stand here all day listing off why you can't come with me?"
"I've got the time," he countered.
"Well, I don't," Aranea sighed, massaging her temple with two fingers. "You may have been a badass fighter before you went blind, but whatever existential crisis you're going through right now, leave me out of it. You're not coming, so don't bother convincing me. My word is final."
She began to turn on her heels, ready to get back to planning her mission, but he gently grabbed her forearm. The move startled her. She didn't immediately pull away, instead waiting for him to speak. Her eyes fell on his gloved hand and her stare followed from his hand to his arm and up to his face. Being so close to him now allowed her the chance to examine the injuries that robbed him of his ability to see.
A scar split his right eyebrow, another slashed across the bridge of his nose, and a smaller one marred his lower lip. The largest scar, a pink and garish starburst pattern over the entirety of his left eye, stood out the most as it had sealed his eye shut, the result of some sort of fiery explosion. Scar tissue clouded his right eye but, still, it looked at her intimidatingly. It was as if he knew she was rudely staring. She couldn't help it; the injuries downright terrified her.
His soft, accented voice broke her chain of thought. "Please," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "I'm begging you, Aranea."
It was strange to hear him use her name. This was not the same man she joined at camp way back when. The man she knew before was skilled with his daggers and spears, graceful in combat, and moved in a way that fascinated her to no end. He had enough confidence to last a lifetime. But now? The man standing before her was simply a shell of his former self, far from the self-assured and slightly arrogant man who whipped up a whole new meal for her because she was being a brat about his almost-prepared mushroom stew.
Her breathing hitched and she pried her arm away carefully, backing away slowly. "I'm sorry, Ignis. Really, I am; but I can't let you come with me. You need to stay here where it's safe. Your buddies would kill me if you got hurt and I . . . I don't think I could ever forgive myself for letting anything happen to you." She looked like she had so much more to say, but instead she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding and sauntered back to Biggs and Wedge. She needed to put as much distance between her and Ignis as possible, and fast.
Biggs and Wedge were about ready to ask what happened, but she didn't allow them the opportunity as she snatched the papers back and reread her notes one last time. With the flick of her hand, she signaled for them to follow her down to the western entrance of Lestallum to embark on their mission, leaving Ignis behind at the marketplace entrance.
Although she didn't want him to join her rescue mission, that didn't stop Ignis from wanting to help. He'd paid close enough attention when she was rambling off orders to know that Aranea and her men were headed to the Rock of Ravatough, a natural structure to the northeast of Lestallum. He decided to take matters into his own hands for the first time since Altissia, instead of letting others dictate what he needed to do. Irrationality and aggravation fueled Ignis' thoughts as he stalked away, ready to show that he didn't need to be protected by anyone.
The surprising perk of being blind was the fact that the eternal night didn't phase Ignis one bit. In one hand, he had his cane to guide the way (what good that was doing right now) while the other hand held his dagger. Although, with no one around to watch out for obstacles, his moves were a little more inept.
It had been a few hours since he left Lestallum and he was silently seething at the humid weather and the bugs that found his blood particularly tasty. There were a few times he considered turning back, but stubborn pride got the better of him and he kept going. Occasionally, he thought he'd heard a daemon approach him, but it turned out to be his imagination. Still, he remained vigilant, not wanting to get caught off guard, especially alone.
As he walked, he ruminated over the words of his friends and Aranea. If he was being rational, he understood entirely why they wanted him to remain behind. True, he wasn't the same person in battle that he used to be, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. But, on the other hand, it was unfair of them to ask him to idly stand by while they went about risking their lives.
Ok, that wasn't fair. The sounds he heard upon making it to Lestallum that first night haunted him to no end; he could only imagine how horrifying the sights were. He knew it wasn't like they wanted to hunt overpowered daemons, recover mangled bodies, or find limbless survivors. It was only inevitable that this new world would permanently warp Prompto's fragile mentality and exhaust Gladio, as he was the strongest of the group (aside from Cor). Ignis reasoned that they only wanted what was best for him and just wanted to protect him, but in doing so they completely abandoned him.
And then there was Aranea. True, she didn't owe him one iota of an explanation for anything she said or did, but what did she know about him being safe? She couldn't begin to understand what it was that he was going through or what they'd been through as a group after they'd parted ways that next morning after the campfire. She had no right to stop him from coming.
Well, it was her mission, so technically she did have that right.
Ignis continued his internal debate and the somewhat pathetic pity party while mindlessly slashing, hacking, and navigating through bushes and trees. He wondered if anyone noticed he was gone. Probably not, if the mission was still ongoing for Prompto, Gladio, and Cor. He was certain Aranea had no clue of his whereabouts, but only because they weren't anything other than comrades in this new daemon war, working together to stay alive.
His flow of thought strayed from his friends to his absent charge. He wondered what Noctis was doing, if he was ok. Would it have made any difference if they all went for the Crystal, instead of sending Noct to go alone? Would he still be here if they went together? When would he be back? Ignis hoped it wouldn't be too long, but-call it a gut feeling-deep down he knew Noct wouldn't return for a while. The thought depressed him further.
There was a rustle in the bushes not too far off, halting Ignis in his tracks. As he stilled, so did the rustling. Must be the wind, he thought and resumed his walk. Again, he heard the rustling but, this time, it sounded nearer than before. With his dagger in one hand and his cane still in the other, he crouched low in a defensive position as he heard a deep growl coming toward him.
Before Ignis had time to react, a burly fist struck the back of his head, knocking his glasses to the ground and sending him flying forward. He braced his fall with both hands out, but the force was too much and his arms buckled, his face skidding across the dirt. The assailant danced around him playfully before it kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Ignis rolled onto his back, coughing and clutching his stomach painfully. His mind went into overdrive as he concluded that he was up against a hobgoblin; a thick-skinned, green daemon known for its reliance on physicality, theft, and the occasional poison spell.
Pushing the pain in his stomach to the side of his mind, Ignis sprang to his feet, feeling the rush of the wind by his ear as he narrowly avoided another hit to the head. Unable to find the dagger he dropped, he took to summoning his lance to his possession. He tried to back up a few steps but was hindered by a tree against his back. The hobgoblin cast a poison spell in his direction but Ignis was quick enough to duck just in time. He lunged to the side and somersaulted in the air, hoping against all odds that, in doing so, he'd get a decent way away from the daemon, far enough to throw his spear with enough power behind it to injure it. However, as luck would have it, his perception was off and he touched down right beside the monster.
Quick on its feet, the hobgoblin twisted around and grabbed Ignis around the neck, effortlessly lobbing him to the ground. His head smashed against a rock protruding from the ground and Ignis felt thick, warm blood trickle from the resulting gash to the side of his head. He heard the hobgoblin wind up for another punch, but Ignis held his spear in front of him, blocking the fists before they could attack him. Not one to be deterred, the monster resorted to using its feet once again, successfully landing a few kicks to the side of Ignis' ribs.
I'm not about to go out like this, Ignis thought as he rolled away. He reached into his pocket, hoping that he had a random potion or elixir shoved away somewhere, but was discouraged to find that he either never thought to grab one before he left or, at some point, the Hobgoblin stole it from his possession. Judging by the overjoyed shrieking that came from its mouth, Ignis had to assume the latter.
He tried to get to his knees in a fruitless attempt to stand but was rocked by another fist to the face, cringing when he heard the sickening crunch of his nose breaking. If he could see, Ignis knew there would be stars in his vision. Disregarding the rush of blood running from his nose, he blindly felt around for either of his weapons-the dagger or the spear-but both were seemingly out of his reach.
He realized the hobgoblin's calloused hand was around his ankle and was pulling at him with evil intent. Ignis used his free foot to try and kick the hand from him, but it was no use. With no branches or trees within grasp to hold on to, he was forced to brace himself as the hobgoblin threw him over his shoulder, through the air, and back down to the ground so hard that he was sure that he broke another rib.
Fighting alone with no vision was near impossible. If he could see, this fight would've been over in no time, but he wasn't used to the darkness in combat and he wasn't used to it alone. He couldn't see where to run, couldn't get a good judge on his opponent and its position in relation to him, and successfully managed to lose his weapons in the scuffle. Hand-to-hand combat would be useless against this thing as its skin was so tough that physical blows would laughably bounce right off it. Maybe Gladio and Prompto were right after all.
Ignis' calm demeanor turned to panic. The hobgoblin took advantage of the standstill between them by running at the vulnerable man, headbutting him in the chest and knocking him to the ground, beating him senselessly. Ignis brought his arms up to his head and curled away with his back to the daemon, protecting any crucial organs and limbs in doing so. If he couldn't fight, he might as well defend himself the best he could.
He prayed to the Gods to end it soon. Either put him out of his misery or give him the strength to beat the damn thing. The more hits he took, the quicker his consciousness slipped away, but he heard the faint sound of yelling in the distance among a group of people. Remaining in the fetal position, he figured it was just some pain-induced hallucination, but was surprised to learn his hallucination was reality when the punches ceased after the daemon was hit with some sort of weapon, stumbling backward in anguish.
"You've gotta be shittin' me. After I specifically told you to stay behind?!" Aranea's dismayed voice said as she ran in and knelt beside him. With a hand on his shoulder, she roughly rolled him over and groaned at the sight of his battered face. She waved her men over. "Biggs! Wedge! Watch him while I take care of this asshole."
"Aye-aye, Miss!" one of them replied, but Ignis wasn't sure who. Everything sounded muddled like it was happening underwater. One of the men hoisted Ignis over his shoulder, fireman's carry style, and rushed him away to safety. In the background, he heard Aranea skillfully take down the daemon with no difficulty whatsoever. Outstanding, Ignis sarcastically thought, annoyed with her help but thankful all the same.
"You're safe now, lad. Jus' stay awake a bit longer, will yeh?" comforted the other man. Try as he might to stay alert, as he was carefully placed on the ground, Ignis' head lolled to the side and he felt the sweet release of unconsciousness take him away from his pain.
His pounding head roused him from sleep. A dull but deep tenderness spread throughout his chest and back, making it somewhat hard to breathe. From what Ignis could deduce, he was in a bed, probably back at the Levelle. He remembered the broken nose he received from the hobgoblin and his hand flew to his face to check on it, but everything felt fine. No cuts, no broken bones; the only thing wrong was the lingering ache all over his body that refused to go away. As he started to sit up, he was thrown back by a pillow to the head. "Bloody hell, what was that for?" he yelled, tossing the pillow from his face onto the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Aranea hissed from beside the bed. "Do you have a death wish or something, going out alone under your condition?"
Ignis didn't answer as Aranea continued her rampage. "You are so lucky my men and I were nearby to fend off that hobgoblin, you know that? I mean, honestly, how could you be so stupid?"
He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "You needn't worry, I was capable of taking care of myself."
"Oh, is that so? So why did I have to use my last Phoenix Down and one of my remaining Hi-Elixirs to save your sorry ass?"
"You did what?"
Unable to restrain her aggravation, she picked the pillow up from the floor and, avoiding his attempts to fend her off, struck him a few times in the chest and arm before landing a final blow to the side of his head. "Yeah, a moment longer and you probably wouldn't be here right now. How the hell would I explain your dead body to your friends? You want to put that responsibility on me? Hmm?"
The more she ranted, the more remorseful he became and the more his pride diminished to shame. "I . . . I don't know . . ."
She laughed, incredulously. "How cute. You don't even have a good excuse. You know, this is why everyone wanted you to stay behind, but you're too damn arrogant for your own good, aren't you? Noctis is gone and you don't owe him a damn thing right now, so why're you so hell-bent on proving to everyone that you can still protect the world?"
The sheer mention of Noctis' name and her incessant scolding, as if he were some child, caused him to break. "Because it's who I am!" he exclaimed, his face meeting hers for the first time and his eyebrows deeply furrowed. His outburst didn't faze her as she crossed her arms and eyed him with contempt. He continued. "All my life, I was brought up to live and die by the future king of Lucis. Every day, my entire being revolved around taking care of Noct, giving him everything he needed to succeed in life. Since his departure, paired with the fact that I've essentially been blinded, moving on has been a much bigger challenge than I anticipated. I can't fight the way I used to, Gladio and Prompto are terrified to have me on the battlefield with them, and let's not ignore all the small things I can't do anymore, like cook or drive. . . I-I don't even know where to begin to get myself back to where I was. If that's even possible."
The sudden honesty was not at all what Aranea expected. Listening to him vent took her by surprise and she felt her face soften in response. Sure, she had an inkling that Ignis was taking this hard, but she never imagined it was affecting him this much. He wasn't the type to wear his emotions boldly on his sleeve, so she just assumed he was dealing with everything rather internally. She sat down in a chair to the side of the bed, never once averting her gaze from him. She weighed carefully the word she was about to utter, knowing there was no going back after saying it. "Fine."
Ignis narrowed his eye, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Beg your pardon?"
"I said 'fine'. You need help learning how to fight? I'll help you." A small smile pulled at the edges of Ignis' lips and she held a hand up, forgetting that he couldn't see her. "Don't get all excited just yet. I'm probably the shittiest teacher in the entire world because I have the worst patience, but I'll try my best. You deserve that much, I guess. Just remember, you owe me big. And don't think I don't collect."
He grasped foolishly at the best way to convey his thanks, but words eluded him. "I-I don't know what to say."
She stood up and rolled her eyes. "Don't get all soft on me, Four Eyes. Just meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning at 5 am. You still wake up before everyone else, don't you?"
He nodded once, paused, and then asked, "Aranea, a favor?"
She sighed melodramatically. "Are you kidding me? You want another favor? After I just agreed to devote my cherished free time to sparring with you? This better be good, Specs."
He shifted uncomfortably, but still managed to chuckle quietly at her use of his old nickname. "I'd appreciate it if you could keep this agreement between us, at least for now. If Gladio and Prompto found out, I'd gauge to say they'd interfere and put an end to it, not out of maliciousness but more out of fear. So, just for the time being, I'd be grateful for the secrecy."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. My lips are sealed," she agreed, crossing the room and opening the door. "Oh, just so you know, I found your cane and weapons and put them in your room by your bed. Also, I brought you into my room, you know, just in case Blondie and the Big Guy came back and saw you all passed out. You seem to be doing better now, so obviously, the Phoenix Down and elixir did the trick. You can save your thanks; I know I'm awesome."
"I'm incredibly indebted to you," he bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "if I may ask, how long was I out for?"
"Just a few hours, at most. Not that long." She leaned against the doorframe, annoyed. "Now, unless you're in the mood for a quick romp in the sack, since you're still lying in my bed and all, then hurry up and get out. I need to get my beauty rest."
Author's Note: Wow, thanks so much for all the awesome feedback on my last chapter(s)! I'm excited to see so many other IgnisXAranea shippers out there. You guys are awesome and truly amazing!
Thank you all so much :) Your favorites/follows/reviews keep me motivated!
