They were in a vast room that almost took on the figure of a hall with the amount of mechanical junk set along the walls. The light cast a grainy orange along the shadows, while the mechanical churning of a large chamber let off the impression of a combating blue along the white and grey panning. The floor was hard under Lovino's knees as he tried to throw the soldiers behind him off.

Gilbert stood before him. The vast ceiling above him, cut off by what Lovino would assume to be a cement ceiling mixed with some raven material that caused it to glow obsidian above them-black stars in a grey sky—made the snow white of his hair and slight flush of his skin all become an engulfing of flamed shadows and brown coatings. His uniform, stained with the black splotches of blood—his or another's Lovino couldn't know—rustled like leaves with every movement, the belt around his waist crinkled with such detail Lovino decided himself insane. The stone in his hand never lost the fevered green omniscient. Below him, embraced by the kiss of death, calm in the sea of black, was the image that tainted Lovino's whole world another shade darker.

Feliciano lay at Gilbert's feet. The gaping hole in his chest blinked mockingly at Lovino as he screamed, pleaded, inquired and cursed.

"What are you doing!" he cried, ignoring the way every move caused his pinned arms to stretch and pop and ache. He kicked with his toes, scrapping along the floor as he tried to close the gap, to push Gilbert away, to beat the point into him. "NO! Stop! What are you doing? Stop!"

No, no, no, this wasn't happening. This wasn't—no, Gilbert had promised him, hadn't he? Gilbert knew. Gilbert understood. No, this wasn't happening. No. No it couldn't be. Eurydice—no, no this—no this couldn't be happening!

Feliciano wanted to die. Feliciano had gotten what he wanted. He was so close. So close to peace. No, Gilbert understood that!

"Stop! Leave him alone! GILBERT!"

The pill. Feliciano still had the pill. Maybe—he still had a chance.

That didn't stop Lovino from struggling. The word invaded him like a ghost. Pill, pill, pill. There was still hope for Feliciano to be happy.

Gilbert stooped down, allowing the stone to waterfall into the abyss. The green light changed, a vibrant pink surrounding the area. Gilbert quickly recoiled his hand away, his gaze never leaving, no matter how bright the world became. Everything pulsed, once, twice, with every beat it was stronger, faster, a heat through the air. And then, slowly, the bright light disappeared and everything was dark, the orange film no longer capable of lighting anything compared to the brilliant display it followed.

Everything was quiet. Lovino's heart had ceased to tremor, to beat, his pulse was impossible to find or think about.

Everything was quiet.

Then Feliciano gasped.

"No," Lovino's facial features didn't know how to express the pure dread of his heart. It felt like leather had been stretched over his features rather than the skin he had been born with. A million unthought words coursed through his body. The trepidation, the fear, the pain, the guilt. It all flowed like a hurricane over an ocean.

The soldiers behind him let him go. He fell to his forearms, staring into the ground, screwing his eyes shut, trying to breathe. His uniform was too constricting. "No—No," he tried to convince someone, anyone that this wasn't happening. It couldn't be. The way that the world beat against his shoulders, the way the constriction of his collar choked him—it wasn't true.

But when he looked up, he found it was.

Feliciano's body lay there, just breathing. Lovino could see that he was staring upward, at the million black stars. He could see the stream glinting along his temples and into the mess of dark locks beneath him. Lovino put his face in his hands, wishing that he could cry, that he could release this feeling of absolute failure and hopelessness. His hands scrubbed down his face and clapped into something of a prayer position.

What he would give to have a god to pray to.

His ego, his doubt, his life.

Please, please, just make it all go away. It wasn't real. Please, please make it not real.

"Please."

There was a short shuffle, whispered words. When Lovino looked up again he saw Feliciano clinging to Gilbert's neck, bawling his eyes out. Gilbert offered the hug back, his eyes closed and his fingers grappling into half-fists against Feliciano's tattered shirt. He whispered something, but Lovino didn't hear it, couldn't open his eyes enough to read the words. And then they parted. Gilbert helped him stand. A nod. An: "I understand."

Lovino moved to stand himself, to meet the boy, to do something, but he couldn't. His body shook too much. It wouldn't move. He couldn't move.

Saying things out loud made them real, but right now, the only thing it took to make his whole world crumble into the fantasy of madness was a single step. He bowed his head. His frown carved itself into his teeth, his jaw, pressed so dangerously that his cheeks rose and his eyes pressed—white stares in a black sky.

Cloudless. But rain soon started over him. Heavy droplets warms against his skin. He pressed his fists into the stone below him and rose his head. Seas fell from the sky, from a cloudless, dead expression. Black eyes. Cloudless.

"I failed," Lovino choked in a whisper, shaking his head. "I failed you again. I'm—I'm sorry—" Let the boy possess the tears, he would wear the expression.

Feliciano put out a hesitant hand. Lovino reached up to meet it.

A single touch. It would tear him apart. It would take the little shreds of humanity he possessed and twist them into a psychotic hopelessness that would lead him to insanity. A single touch.

He closed Feliciano's hand in between his own, pressing the warm, shaking fingers to his forehead.

"I failed you," he prayed, the orange ambiance bouncing and gleaming and drowning. "I failed you. I failed you. I—I failed."

Feliciano's other hand gently cupped the side of Lovino's face. The pressure was practically nonexistent, but Lovino followed it. Stared into the cloudless rain. Feliciano's features twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn't bring himself to do anything but blink. Couldn't bring himself to speak.

So instead, he hummed.

The melody was one Lovino didn't know, but the tenor rumbled slow through his chest, a reverent dance of mayhem, slow, appeasing, gentle and impossible. Lovino tightened his hold on the boy's hand, staring upwards, his knees sore beneath him. For the first time Lovino understood religion. He understood this. He understood kneeling before everything.

Because Feliciano was his everything; not only his heart or his friend or his—he was everything. And Lovino had failed him. He turned his head and pressed a shaky kiss to the kid's knuckles, his lips quivering against the skin as he mouthed: "please, forgive me."

The melody died, and Lovino looked up. The kid turned his own head and spit.

The pill clattered silently away.

Lovino could only stare. Shake his head, stare, not understand a single fucking thing.

The boy motioned for Lovino to stand, and, somehow, he found the strength. The boy's honey eyes were dark, but they stared with a dead confidence. A duty that killed him by forcing him to live. They were so close that their noses touched. Lovino closed his eyes, furrowing his brows and resting his forehead on the other's. he felt the slightest flutter as Feliciano closed his own eyes. Lovino wrapped his arms around the boy's hips, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Feliciano lifted his chin but didn't pull away, allowing his lips to murmur across Lovino's skin, the tip of his nose to scrape and dip into the air, a tentative resting. "I made a promise," he said, the first words since his revival. Lovino could only open a single eye, just enough to catch a new bout of tears falling from heavy lashes. He held him closer. Feliciano's own arms were strong, finding Lovino's biceps, handfuls of stiff fabric. "I'm sorry." He bit his lip, his face finally finding the will to twist into the tears that he shed, his arms rising and wrapping around Lovino's neck, his fingers raking through Lovino's hair as he cried into his ear. "I'm sorry, Lov."

Lovino bowed his head into the boy's shoulder. "No. Feliciano. No," he cried out, a light chuckle following the irony. "You're perfect, you did—there's nothing to apologize for."

But the boy shook his head and pulled away. Lovino didn't want to let him go. Didn't want to do anything but wrap into him, to fall to the ground and hold him, to be held. But he couldn't pull such brilliance down to his level. The kid pressed forward, letting his lips meet Lovino's for a single, fleeting moment before he was pulling away, his body his arms his kiss his warmth, before he was turning and apologizing.

Lovino was captured from behind again as Feliciano met Gilbert.

Gilbert nodded, reaching over and grabbing a large syringe. "Wait—What are you doing?" Lovino demanded, the numbness cascading into distress. "Gilbert! Gilbert what are you doing!"

Feliciano flinched with a loud hiss when the needle pierced him, the strange, glimmering liquid being pushed into his system. Gilbert pulled the needle out, Feliciano's whole countenance laced with pain as he keeled over the place of insert, his mouth opening and closing with no words, only murmurs and whimpers of pain. Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder before grabbing a second syringe and making his way to Lovino.

"What the hell is this!" Lovino screamed, throwing the weight in his shoulder. "I thought you were our friend! I trusted you!"

Gilbert didn't say anything as he lifted Lovino's shirt enough to get to his side, plunging the needle into his skin. Lovino hissed, trying to flinch away from the invading metal, but the two solders behind him held him still.

"What the fuck is this!" the liquid spread through his body, causing his muscles to constrict in such a painful manner that his shield seemed to try and combat the internal pain by forming over his skin. "Gilbert! Answer me, damn it!"

"Move him to the pod," Gilbert muttered with a tossing of his head towards the large machine that sputtered blue.

Lovino struggled against them, screaming out his curses. Even as he was pushed into a chair, as his arms were strapped down painfully tight, his legs soon wrapped just as mercilessly, he screamed. "Gilbert! I trusted you! What was all that shit about trust? Damn it! Fuck you! You're a fucking liar! You're a fucking traitor! I trusted you."

Gilbert moved to close the pod's door. He hesitated. "I never broke my word," he defended confidently. His eyebrow quirked above glaring red eyes. "I understand. C'mon, don't try to tell me you've never seen Two and a Half Men."

"You're a bastard!" Lovino screamed back, fighting against his bonds. Just as Gilbert was closing the door, Lovino caught sight of it.

Off, stuffed along the junk, was a white blanket, red and grey in the lighting. It was pulled over a body.

Not pulled up enough to hide the blond hair, the dead face.

"YOU KILLED YOUR OWN FUCKING BROTHER FOR THIS?"

The door closed with a whoosh and Lovino was locked in perpetual darkness. He continued to scream, to struggle. His vocal chords were ripped apart as he continued to shout. His wrists bled.

And then everything was lit up. The murmuring of the machine he was in turned into a mighty growl, a million little bulbs flashing a brilliant white in his eyes. He flinched backwards, for a moment allowing himself silence, swallowing past a bloodied throat. His nails curled and bit into his palm.

Something happened. Lovino's whole body, all at once, constricted. He screamed, unable to keep the black smoke around his limbs from filling up the small pod he was stuck in. His whole body was wretched into the movement, he shut his eyes, he could do nothing.

And then it all stopped.

He had a moment to rest. His chin dug into his chest and he swallowed deep breaths. His head pounded like no other. He blinked through the tears.

And then it happened again.

"GAH-!"


Days.

It must have been days. Lovino had been rendered to a whimpering mess, head rolled onto his shoulder when the pain wasn't quaking through his veins. His breaths came in stammered bouts, pulled in past long-since dried tears. He couldn't open his eyes. The drill in between his brows kept him from doing anything.

Days.


When the door opened, allowing fresh air to revolve around him and his filth, all he could do was hope it was being opened so that someone would shoot him. His bounds were worked away and he was slung around someone's shoulder.

He was weak. His body wouldn't move on his command. He couldn't even whimper out.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gilbert muttered slowly, shrugging him along. Lovino allowed himself to be dragged.

He couldn't dip into unconsciousness. Whatever he had been injected with had killed his ability to sleep. Had killed his ability to hold back his powers. He was so weak, but still so aware as water found his skin, as a new needle found his arm, the dripping of an I.V. that wouldn't shut the fuck up as he laid there. He was aware of the bedspread, but he couldn't open his eyes. Never. His head hurt too much, a single drop of light would cause the pressure in his skull to finish the job, a cracking, shattering implosion. It took all his power just to breathe. Staggered breaths taken through his mouth.


Someone sighed as they came in, taking a seat next to his bed. "I'm surprised that you didn't die," the albino's hiss said, a solemn soberness traipsing through his tone. "It's over now. The war." There was another long sigh, a short shuffle. "It's all over."

Lovino set his jaw and allowed his eyes to open. Just slightly, but he guessed it was something. Everything was a white blur and he flinched back, giving out a whimpered cry.

"Feliciano's alive, too," Gilbert muttered in response. "He—You'll both be fine. You'll both recover. I wasn't sure how long this would take, but you should be able to sleep soon, don't worry."

His head pounded, exploded. He clenched his jaw, his whole body tensing with the pain. Still, he managed a choked: "why?"

Gilbert chuckled lowly. "The Latkins and Hollows posed a threat much larger than the Warp. They spread and really had no real goal outside of destruction. We needed a way to produce a weapon against them, but I didn't have enough time to…figure it out." There was a long pause. "So," he breathed dramatically, "I went with what I knew would work. You and Feliciano. We didn't have the delicacy to allow you two to walk around and hold hands with each one of them, though. I needed a system to get your guys' energy out there in an efficient manner. So, instead of discovering the secret to the energy, I put together a system that would amplify it, and with a research team from the Confraternity we were able to use notes from countless other researches and put together the first communication lines between worlds. Your energy was sent from you to over a thousand firearms. And, it worked. We won." There was a bitterness to that last line, but Lovino didn't have enough energy to talk back. He listened as Gilbert stood. "Eat something, you should be able to sleep soon."

Lovino had to try. "Ludwig-?"

But it was too quiet, and Gilbert was too gone.


He had told the truth. It felt like forever before his head finally shut down and he drifted to sleep. He was forced awake, finding himself surrounded by a team. He scrunched up his face with a coughing groan.

"He's back," someone was saying.

"Hang in there," another muttered.

Lovino tried to raise his head, open his eyes, but couldn't. Instead he was rendered back against the pillow, back to sleep.


A pretty woman helped him sit up. He groaned, nodding at her slowly. "Thank you," he muttered out.

She moved the retractable table forward. A simple meal of soft foods was set before him. He rested his forearms on the cool metal, allowing his head to hang as he grasped at his energy, attempting to move and eat. The nurse understood and help.

Lovino chuckled, feeling a bit pathetic as he allowed himself to be fed, but grateful for it.

"Hey, look at you," Gilbert announced, walking in, his fingers messing up his hair. Lovino ticked a look his way, grimacing as the pain in his head throbbed. No matter how much pain medication they filled him with, it seemed that his head was always pounding. "Try the sauce. Looks like apple sauce, absolutely isn't. Gotta try it."

Lovino shook his head. "What—" he paused, recollected his strength. "What are you doing here, Gilbert?"

"Just coming in to check up on ya. I got this. Thanks, Luc."

Lovino watched the nurse leave, his eyes practically begging her to stay and send the out-spoken bastard away. "My head hurts. You've checked."

Gilbert chuckled, sitting down with a slight sigh. Lovino raised his chin when Gilbert came at him with the spoon, offering his defiance through a glare and a painful motion that reached out and shakily took the spoon himself. He wasn't about to be spoon fed by this fucker. The albino quirked a brow, bemused.

"What do you want?" Lovino groaned.

"The Confraternity has lost a lot of trust in the old Order," he said seriously. "Their inactivity throughout all of this has really shown a lot of them how utterly useless their gods are."

"That's great," Lovino ground, a shaky hand to his head. "Why does it matter now?"

"This thing with the Warp is over but…there's a lot of disorder in the Confraternity forces. That coup d'état? It's looking like it's a lot more than just a possibility now." The albino sat back, looking up at the ceiling. "I know you're not in great shape right now, but when you are, I was—"

"I'm done fighting," Lovino decided harshly. "I'm not joining any other fucking war. I—I'm sorry, Gilbert, but—"

Gilbert let off a bitter snort. "Yeah, it's to be expected." He stood and started away.

"Gil—"

He hummed back.

"Send the nurse back in, please."

"Yeah."


His arms trembled as he counted on them more than he did his legs, walking the length of the parallel bars. He grit his teeth, making it to the end and collapsing down against the cool material.

"Great job," his physical therapist said above him, setting down her clipboard and helping him back to his feet. "You're much faster."

Lovino ticked her a smile. "Yeah—I, can I go again?"

"Are you sure."

He nodded his head. "Absolutely."

"You've made great progress, Lovino. Don't push yourself too hard. You should—"

He didn't wait for her to finish before he started again. Three days he had been trying to walk without fucking balance beams. Anyone who thought it would take four was a fool.

His first steps without the bars put him on the ground, but he pushed away the help of his doctor, instead struggling back to his feel himself. Everything trembled.

Okay, maybe it would take four.

Or eleven.

Fuck, he was weak.


"Standing outside his room isn't the same as going in and talking to him, you know," Gilbert said.

Lovino looked back, leaning against the wall, his arms over his chest. "You're back."

"I told you—"

"Cut the shit. You want us to join your fucking regime. It's not happening."

"You don't know what Feliciano's agreed to or hasn't."

Lovino set his jaw, attempting to keep his fist from balling. "Haven't you done enough? Can't you just leave us the fuck alone?"

"Lovi—"

"No, Gilbert. Listen. You might be some decorated war hero for what you fucking did, but I will never trust you again. I knew that you were fucked in the head from day one. But—" Lovino shook his head, looking down the opposite hall rather than Gilbert's face. "If your ideal human race is whatever the fuck you are, then I hope everyone fucking burns. A humanity based around your—you're a fucking monster, Gilbert."

There was a tense pause between them. Lovino expected him to leave, to punch him, to make some stupid joke, but instead he just sat there quietly. Lovino closed his eyes when he broke the silence. "Gramps was an idiot," he decided assuredly. "Said I could never hurt him. Laid out a wonderful set of definitions. Physical hurt, mental hurt, fucking ego—" he cut off. Lovino offered him a glance. He wasn't crying, he wasn't angry, he just stared at the wall, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. "Luddy used the rules against me. Said if I didn't do it I'd be breaking my FUCKING WORD." His fist was sent behind him, clattering into the wall. With a tight breath he calmed the sudden anger, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he re-opened them, he was sighingly calm again, his hand sent over his head and to his neck. "Call me what you want, but I'm not a liar. Shit happens, and shit happened. Not much we can do about all that now, eh?"

"So, just like that, you're okay with it?"

"Life doesn't give a shit what you're okay with." He shrugged. "And it doesn't stop to wait for you to come to terms with—well, anything, really. I have a job to do, a goal to accomplish, and if you think that Ludwig's death is going to wreck my progress you're an idiot."

Lovino couldn't help it, he chuckled. "Yeah, it's a term I've come to associate with myself for sure."

Another bout of silence passed between the two, but it was shared not in anxiety but something of a shared solace. Lovino rolled his eyes. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Just, think about what I've said. And, I'm not asking you to fight. There's a lot more needing to be done. Ever think about plumbing as a profession?"

"No, Gilbert, I haven't."

"Might suit ya. The surname's Italian, isn't it? Gas-pari. Sounds like a plumber to me." He started to turn, heading his way back down the hall. No doubt he would continue coming until Lovino killed him or agreed to join him.

"Hey, Beilschmidt," he called out.

Gilbert paused, taking a sobering moment before he turned. "Yeah?"

"You going on that skiing trip?"

Red eyes found the wall, the floor, a smirked sigh that couldn't hide the sudden discomfort. "You know, I've been thinking about that. Slopes really aren't for me. Might take up a surfing trip instead."

"Don't deny them being able to meet both of their kids," Lovino returned.

Gilbert laughed. "Ah, so Ludwig opened up to you, hmm? How touching."

"Seriously, Gil."

Gilbert shrugged dismissively. "I don't honestly know if I can face them right now. It'd be a visit full of lies, and that's a pretty big cramp in my style. Thanks for the concern, though. Focus on getting better." And he was turning, leaving. Lovino frowned after him. "Oh, and don't go telling me to grow a pair when you can't even bring yourself to see your boyfriend." And then he was gone.

Lovino frowned, sighing against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. He knew every crack in it. Had studied it, his very own scripture. "What am I even supposed to fucking say?" he grumbled to himself.

"You could start with an 'I love you' that doesn't end in sacrificial suicide."

Lovino jumped back. He hadn't heard the kid's door open. Nevertheless, he stood there, his eyes staring up at Lovino with a moisture Lovino was sure would never be dispelled. He offered Lovino a smile, but Lovino could tell that it was forced. His legs shook dangerously beneath him and he was leaning against the doorframe for support. He looked like he had lost some weight, but there was a flush to his skin that assured Lovino that he was, in fact, on the road to recovery.

"Are you just going to stand there?" the kid cry-laughed.

He was always cry-laughing.

"You're an idiot," Lovino muttered, stealing forward, an automatic hand shooting to cup his face as he pulled him into a kiss.


AUTHOR'S NOTES

Ah, and onto the resolution we go! Isn't this fun? I like to consider this as a three-part resolution. Defeat the war, overcome the adventure, and find the future. So, sorry if it's not as intense as the rest of the story has been, there probably won't be much action from here on out (I might find a way to fit some fun fight scenes in, and the final chapter does have a little bit of an intense beginning, but I do apologize if it feels a little more drowned. We have surpassed the climax, and now it's all about finishing the character development!)

COMMENT! What do you guys think about Gilbert and Ludwig's sacrifice? Do you understand it? (If not, Feliciano will explain it next chapter)