Chapter Thirty: Recrudesce
Note: Wow. 300,000 words, and 90 chapters… Thank you. Just thank you! I can't believe we made it this far, and that you still like reading my story. I'm genuinely touched!
(-~-)
A dull throbbing sensation hit the second youngest of the Dark Knight Sparda's descendants as he attempted to figure out if he was actually awake or not. His head pounded, and despite the fact that they were closed, he knew his eyes were sensitive to the dim light in whatever room he was in. He could practically see through his eyelids, and the limp soreness that pulsated through his body was easily enough to make him curse the fact that he even had limbs to speak of. He'd had headaches before, but this… this was something else entirely.
Refusing to stay wherever it was that he currently was for reasons he honestly couldn't pinpoint, V forced his eyes open, and attempted to sit up, only to be greeted by a wave of nausea and dizziness. Did he have a migraine? He'd heard that this was what they were like, but if that was the case, he didn't want to ever experience another one. Every inch of his body seemed to tingle and sting as though simply touching something sent his nerve endings into a frenzy. It was the kind of thing that you woke up with that made you decide to lay back down and just call it quits, even if you had something important to do. And in truth, he was momentarily tempted to do so, until he remembered something.
Where on earth was he?
In an instant, the memory of his encounter with the prince of darkness Belial came flooding back, and he was gripped with a potent sense of momentary panic that made his heart race. He felt his breath quicken, and his pupils dilate, an involuntary reaction that sent his head screaming into a deafening spiral of searing pain and vertigo as he closed his eyes and attempted to suppress the unexplainable experience he was going through. Was this residual anxiety from their encounter, or something more? He couldn't explain it any more than he could understand it, but either way, he wanted to leave this room. It was as if the four walls he occupied were closing in on him and trying to crush them with all their might. And despite the fact that he knew that wasn't the case, he felt a profound need to no longer occupy them.
Pulling himself up all the way into a sitting position, he moaned slightly as the combination of soreness and aching muscles became more apparent. It seemed to radiate from one specific spot, one that he needed to take a look at before he stood up. Actually no, it could wait until he stood. If it wasn't impeding his movement, then he didn't feel the need to go over it in fine detail right now. Knowing his mental state at the moment, it would probably just stress and worry him further. Putting weight on it might be a good place to start.
Standing carefully, he couldn't say that he felt any kind of need to pull his weight off of his side, but he did remember that he had been stabbed in it. Twice, if his memory hadn't fully failed him. Had he managed to heal from his injuries already? After all, he did tend to heal quickly when he was asleep as opposed to when he was awake like the rest of his family. This could easily be another case of him sleeping for several days, only to awaken and realize that he had quite a bit of catching up to do.
A quick but tentative examination of his side was all it took to confirm that educated guess, if not only partially. After lifting his shirt and peeling down the bandage that covered his side, he realized two things: that he didn't own the shirt he was wearing, and that he had a large bruise on his side that was probably the source of the radiating pain that he felt in his side. It consisted of several different shades of red and purple, ranging from dark to light, but irrefutably uncomfortable regardless. But in spite of the undeniable soreness that radiated from it whenever he flexed a muscle, he didn't feel that it would impair him in any way if he attempted to walk.
Thankfully, his assumption proved to be correct as he stepped around the bed carefully and headed towards the bedroom door. Pausing for a moment, he finally took in his surroundings, registering that they were familiar. Very much so, in fact. And he felt slightly unintelligent for not recognizing them. After all, he was in his own house. How could he have been so out of it that he hadn't recognized that?
Drifting speech permeated his mind as he stepped through the doorway and into the house below. He had been inside of his own bedroom the entire time. He realized that now. But either way, he wasn't alone in the house. Several recognizable voices could be heard from the floor below as he turned to close his bedroom door, wondering for a moment how long he had been out of commission this time. Had they just decided to leave him be and let him rest in the hopes that he would recover, or had he done so several days or even weeks ago and simply remained asleep? After all, he was sure that that was possible. He had taken some pretty long recovery naps in the past.
Closing the door and heading downstairs was probably the best course of action. He didn't particularly like to yell, especially in the confines of his own home. It just seemed unnecessary to do so, especially to alert his guests to his presence when he was headed down to join them anyway. They probably thought that he was asleep. Calling down to them would probably only serve to alarm them and send them into a panic to try and figure out where he was and if he required assistance. If they were comfortable, he wanted them to stay that way.
Opting to reach back and close the bedroom door without looking in its direction, he was surprised when his hand touched something softer. Fabric. And to his credit, despite the fact that he had what was easily the worst headache that he had ever experienced (yet another good reason not to yell, lest the act of doing so and the echoing halls only serve to aggravate that.) he was certain that he hadn't draped cloth over his door. He also wasn't anywhere near a window, not that the ones on this floor had curtains in the first place. He had seen to that himself when he had taken down the ones in this part of the house to figure out if he would replace or repair them, the sun having done years of lasting damage to them that completely washed out their once vibrant color. But at least the walls had been spared for the most part.
Irrational fear threatened to overtake him as he decided to turn and see who was standing behind him. The young summoner couldn't pinpoint why he was so worked up, but he was, and if he was going to make a guess, he would say that his recent experiences were probably to blame for that, at least partially. His mind probably hadn't come down from the adrenaline high and overwhelming sense of mind-shredding terror that he had felt when he had been trapped there with no clear way to defend himself. And that part of his mind was still in high gear right now, grasping at innumerable unknowns as his extended hand was grasped by someone out of view.
The young summoner turned around slowly, both out of caution and the desire to not fall and harm himself further, and out of an unshakable sensation of discomfort that he still felt. He attempted to force it out of his mind, but only succeeded partially, his subconscious firing wildly at nothing as he turned to face the person who had touched him. And to his shock, it was the same answer that it had been when he had fallen to the ground after escaping Belial's illusion.
"V…" The eldest Son of Sparda didn't seem to have much more to say than that, seemingly just taken aback by the fact that his oldest son was awake, and that he had managed to get out of the bed and into the hall without anyone else noticing that. His normally rational mind refused to allow him the simple justice of forming anything more meaningful to say, clearly uninterested in the specifics of why he was so utterly relieved and confused to see him awake all at once. He had checked on him for what felt like the millionth time meer minutes ago before stepping away, and he had been dead asleep. How strange that he had awakened so quickly after he had left the room. Had he accidentally disturbed him? "You're awake."
Staring at the older man nebulously as his brain attempted to try and guess what he was here for before he spoke, V experienced something largely foreign to him. An overwhelming sense of relief. It was like a wave of cool water had rushed over him, cooling off a fever that he hadn't realized he'd had until then. He couldn't think of a time previously when he'd been alone with his father and felt so utterly at ease. Or perhaps he could. He'd felt something similar in the brief but overwhelming moment that they had spent together before he had lost consciousness upon his escape with Sirrus. The idea that someone who might be capable of protecting him from his enemy and getting them all to safety had arrived with such perfect timing had been overwhelmingly relieving, and that had never been something that he had experienced with Vergil before. Normally his presence brought with it a slight undertone of anxiety at the concept of what his perception of him and his reaction to it might be, but now he didn't feel that at all.
"… Father… " It had been nothing more than a whisper, a quiet thought that he had meant to keep inside of his head. But at that moment, he had allowed it to slip out and make itself known, and he didn't feel the need to correct that. There was nothing to correct. It was a fact, after all. Vergil was indeed his father. He had just never felt so confused by what he meant to accomplish with such a simple statement before. Maybe he hadn't meant to accomplish anything at all, and he had simply said what was on his mind for once? Yes, that had to be it. That had to be his reason. He didn't really require one, either way, but if he was going to form a hypothesis and overthink a situation that didn't require it in the first place, that was probably his best bet.
"You seem startled." The Darkslayer said calmly, an almost curious inflection present in his voice as he noticed his son's barely concealed distress. Magnolia had mentioned in passing that both he and Sirrus might be slightly dazed and confused when they woke up, but this seemed to extend a little bit further than that. He seemed confused and slightly overwhelmed, something that he was sure he could alleviate if he simply knew what was causing the issue.
He didn't doubt that fact. In truth, he actually had felt afraid until a moment ago. He couldn't shake that feeling something just wasn't right no matter how hard he tried, but at least the fear was dissipating now. It was as if a strong undercurrent of uncertainty had shackled him in place, only to keep him rooted on the spot and unable to focus clearly. Perhaps it was due to the headache he had? Or perhaps it was actually a migraine? Maybe he had a concussion? There were so many possibilities, and they were all uncomfortable.
"Nothing I… was just wondering or a moment if I had actually escaped Belial's illusion or not," He said tentatively under his breath, his words barely more than a whisper. It was the truth, regardless of if he liked that fact or not, and he didn't feel that keeping that from his father would benefit either of them. He didn't know if that made him sound unintelligent or not for not knowing something that might have been obvious, but either way, he was going to speak his mind on the matter and he didn't really care. No one knew everything, especially not him. He was still relatively new to all of this "did Sirrus…?"
Vergil nodded. "He woke up a few hours ago. You seem to be faring better than he is, in any case."
Relief was the only word that he could use to describe how he felt upon learning that as he sighed softly, letting go of the pent-up concern that had manifested itself in response to not knowing what had become of his companion.
"I would advise against-" he paused for a moment, shaking his head in disagreement with whatever he had been planning to say before continuing. He had clearly experienced a sudden change of heart. "Proceed. I won't try to stop you."
For a moment, V contemplated his father's rapid mental turnaround as he accompanied him down the stairs. The Darkslayer seemed to be keeping an eye on him as they went, expecting him to lose his balance and fall, but clearly hoping that it wouldn't come to pass. V considered pressing the issue and asking him what he had been considering saying, but decided not to. He had a feeling that he knew. He probably belonged in the bed, and no doubt, Vergil had been planning to point that out to him, but had probably decided not to for reasons that he could only assume were his own and that he didn't feel like elaborating on. There was no point in making an issue out of something that wasn't already one.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, V heard a familiar voice speak, and subconsciously tuned into the conversation, not consciously trying to eavesdrop, but interested in hearing what the topic of conversation was in the very least. He still didn't know how long he had been out of commission, but he would worry about that once he reached the living room. He had a feeling that Magnolia would tell him herself, if his assumption that she was here proved to be true. He hoped that it would. He enjoyed her presence, and he wanted to thank her for what she had done to help him. Her handiwork was evident in regards to his recovery. From what he knew, she was the only one who knew anything beyond basic first aid.
"Honestly… I'm just not used to being injured. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, I tend to recover quickly. Hopefully, this doesn't prove to be an exception to the rule." Sirrus stopped suddenly, slowly turning his attention over to V and Vergil as they entered the room, a tired but pleased smile on his face. It was good to see both of them. "V. I'm glad to see that you are awake. I was starting to worry. How are you feeling?"
V stopped, looking around the room as he tried to pinpoint where he was going before he got there. Although his bruised, sore body wasn't keeping him from moving around, it still wasn't the most comfortable thing, and he didn't feel like moving more than he needed to. A hot bath was in order once he had the opportunity and privacy to indulge in such luxuries. "I could be worse. And you?"
Sirrus shrugged. "Likewise, I suppose. It's the worst I've been injured in recent memory, but I've definitely been through worse." A soft, genuine smile crossed his face, something that V was certain he'd never seen before. There was a certain look in his eyes that told him that he meant whatever he was about to say. "Thank you for not abiding by my wishes. Your poor listening skills have saved me quite a lot of suffering. I hope that it does not end up costing you in the long run on my behalf."
Nodding, V made his way over to the couch and sat down. He was tired and sore, and sitting down would hopefully alleviate that somewhat. A quick look around the room revealed that Magnolia, Nero, Dante, and Lucia were there as well, and they seemed just as surprised to see him as Vergil had when they had encountered one another in the hallway. Nero immediately migrated over to the couch where V was, more than likely wanting to discreetly give him a once-over. He was trying and failing to hide how excited he was to see him safe and sound.
The eldest of the two found that endearing. How happy he was that Nero hadn't been there when they had been captured. He couldn't stand to think about what Belial might have done to him. Did the Devil Prince even know that he existed? If not, it was best that they kept things that way. He had made sure not to mention or think of him very much during their excursion for that very reason. Nero had far too much to lose in a situation like this.
"Good to see you moving around. I was starting to worry about you. You were kind of a bloody mess when I got to Magnolia's house. You've been out of it for about a day now. Maybe a little bit less." Nero said, leaning over to speak to V. He didn't even try to hide the little smile on his face. Nero was too good for him, and one day he hoped he could properly explain how much he cared about him. V hadn't thought much of him when they had first met, but now that he had been given the opportunity to get to know him, he didn't want to imagine his life without him in it.
"Thank you, Nero. I appreciate that." V nodded, taking that in. He was sorry that Nero had been forced to spend a whole day wondering about his condition, but the blood loss made his headache, bruising, and general condition made a lot more sense now. Being low on blood was a good reason to experience dizziness. "Have I missed anything important?"
Shrugging, Dante leaned back against the couch adjacent to V. He had a knowing look on his face as he nodded, answering the question for Nero. "Not unless you think visiting Magnolia's family isn't a big deal. Because apparently, we're going to pretty soon. Something tells me this is going to be one wild ride."
(-~-)
This is going to be one wild ride, let me tell you! I'm really looking forward to writing these next few chapters. See you again on Friday, and in the comment section! I hope you liked this chapter! I'll have more updates on Friday!