DEVIATION OF FATE

CHAPTER 4

~3 years~

Double checking his phone, Ignis tried his best not to let himself become too concerned with the caravan's tardiness. Standing atop the makeshift wall surrounding the city he gazes out onto the only approaching road and waits, idly fidgeting with his pen and clipboard.

It wasn't as easy to dictate how long it would take vehicles to go from place to place as it once was. Not with roads in constant disrepair, the trucks breaking down, and all sort of other hazards to contend with to say the least. Still, Devon usually called him when they were running excessively late.

Devon had been his on-again-off-again lover for nearly two years. Their meeting hadn't been intentional or even welcome initially.

At the time of their meeting it had been a little over a year since Noctis had left them for the crystal. Ignis was picking up the last bag of coffee down at the trade post. He'd extended his hand to take it, when a young man reached out and snatched it before him.

Ignis turned toward him, prickling with indignant anger, ready to curtly tell him off when he got a good look at him and his voice seized in his throat. The young man was dressed casually in all black with an oversized sports team sweatshirt hanging off his shoulders. His hair was charcoal black and hung lazily around his blue-grey eyes. "Oh, sorry. Did you want this?" he'd asked.

Clearing his throat, Ignis stated that he did.

The other man made a sincerely apologetic face, double checking the back end of the shelf to see if there was another one, but there wasn't. "Sorry. Ummm…maybe another shipment will come in soon?"

Ignis sighed. The other man had gotten there first, so in all politeness it was his. He briefly wondered how far he could ration what was left in his pantry back home before he had to start switching to tea. He got a mild headache just thinking about it.

They both knew that the next shipment was going to be a while, if it was coming at all.

Putting on a polite smile, Ignis adjusted his glasses. "Well, be sure you guard that carefully. Small pleasures are rare these days. I hope you enjoy it." He turned to leave when the man had reached out and caught the back of his arm.

"Wait. How about we split it."

"Oh, well that's very courteous of-"

"Under one condition," he'd said. "You share a pot of it with me first. What do you say?"

Ignis swallowed hard. It wasn't that the man was coming on to him (at least politely), but the fact that this stranger looked so very much like Prince Noctis was what made him hesitate. Sure, his skin tone was different, his voice was deeper, and his eyes weren't quite the right color, but he could pass as a worthy doppelganger.

Part of Ignis felt guilty for even considering it. He'd spent the better part of his life in service to the prince, and now he was staring at what summed up to be a physical replacement. His mind was going over the ethics so long that the young man had leaned in and waved his hands to snap Ignis out of it. "Is that a no?" He'd said, sounding disappointed.

Ignis stammered. "No… I mean yes. I mean… No, it wasn't a no. I…" He huffed at his own verbal stumbles. "Yes, I will have some coffee with you." He extended a hand. "Ignis."

The young man returned the firm hand shake. "Devon."

It started out as just a date at Devon's flat. Casual, warm, nothing physical. They'd talked for hours about everything and nothing. About what Ignis used to do in the Citadel and what Devon was currently up to running supplies with the Glaives. He'd once been a professional waiter, of all things, but once the world started falling apart it was tough to find work in his field. So he picked up a polearm, a gun, and hopped a truck with the next outgoing caravan and the rest was history.

They'd done the traditional three dates before they'd slept together. After that they spent what time they could together between supply runs and Ignis' work with the government and Sania. Never once had they really put a title on what they were. They'd tossed around the phrase friends-with-benefits and then lovers later on, but neither of them had ever used the term 'boyfriend'. Even then it really didn't seem like the proper word, but still, it was something, and Ignis wanted to talk to Devon when he got back from the current run to make it official.

Finally, Ignis saw a few sets of headlights coming up the winding path to the city. Pulling up his binoculars he scans the three vehicles before finding one who's left headlight flickers. It's definitely the truck Devon departed on. He can't contain his sigh of relief as they pass into the tunnel and out of sight in their approach. "Ready the gate," he calls down to the guards below.

A few moments later the three trucks were driving under the portcullis before it closed loudly behind them. Trying his best not to appear too eager he went to the first car to collect their inventory list, then the second, when he got to the third truck Monica stepped out of the driver's seat with a grim look on her face. "Everything alright?" he asked her, a heavy stone already settling in his stomach.

She just shook her head and took the clipboard from Ignis, handing it off to another driver to finish the inventory. Ignis saw blood smeared around the edges of her fingernails and sleeves. Taking him by the shoulder she guided him away from the trucks. "Ignis… I'm so sorry."

Ignis tried and failed to swallow past the lump in his throat. "What happened?"

"We were down by the Maidenwater and didn't notice the sea devils until they were on top of us. We managed to take out three of them, but there were so many of them. The Alpha came after our trucks and Devon managed to take it out with his spear, but…" She reached into her pocket and slipped something metallic into Ignis' hands. "I'm so, so sorry."

Standing there paralyzed for what felt like an eternity, Ignis managed to look down and open his hand, revealing bloodied dog tags with the name Devon Valentine stamped into them.

He didn't remember saying anything to Monica after that, nor the trip back up to the apartment. Ignis wasn't even fully aware where he was until he found himself in the bathroom washing the dried blood off his hands from the tags. He washed those too before hanging them up on the edge of the mirror before turning and heading back to the kitchen. It was roughly dinner time anyway.

Taking the anak steak out of the refrigerator, he unwrapped it and put it on the broiler pan before seasoning it with salt and pepper and preheating the oven. Retrieving the potatoes and onions from the pantry he reminded himself that they needed more garlic powder next time he got a chance to go shopping for it. He peeled and chopped the potatoes before putting them into a pot of water and placing it on the oven.

Turning the dial to light the stove the ignition clicked and clicked and clicked, but no flame came. Crouching down Ignis looked closer before trying another burner and another. Opening the oven and reaching in he found it as cold and still as the rest of the room.

The propane tank for the building must have run out again.

Ignis stood up, hands on the counter on either side of the steak, staring at it. He could put it in the fridge and save it for later, but who knows when the gas would come back on. If he froze it again it would damage the cellular structure and it wouldn't be able to hold flavor and juice as well. Besides, he'd already seasoned it and…and…

Picking up the broiler pan in one hand he hurled it across the room. The pan dented the sheetrock as the steak hit the wall with a wet slap and slid down behind the television. He threw the pot of potatoes next, dousing the floor and scattering the sliced tubers everywhere.

Running his arm along the length of the countertop he cleared it of the vase holding all their extra wooden spoons and spatulas. It shattered on the floor scattering glass and utensils everywhere. The salt and pepper shakers were next, though both managed to survive the fall.

Next was the metal kettle, full of water, hurled at the apartment door and denting both.

The cutting board and knife were last. Whipped like a discus and missing the far window by an inch.

Lacking anything else to destroy Ignis briefly considered opening the cabinets and shattering their contents too, but he suddenly realized he was bleeding. A long gash ran the length of his right palm, dripping red all over the counter and floor.

Reflexively he ran the water in the sink on cold, barely feeling the pain as he rinsed the flowing wound. It was deep and would probably need stitches.

Turning the water off he grabbed a dish cloth and wrapped it around his hand, clenching his fingers into a fist as the red spread throughout the white fabric.

Emotionally exhausted, he leaned against the refrigerator and slid down it's length until he sat on the linoleum floor. There, he began to sob.

Two days later, Gladio and Prompto arrived in Lestallum.

Gladio had gotten a voice mail from Monica instead of a text, which was an indicator something bad had happened already. She filled them in on what had happened with Devon and how dead-eyed Ignis was when she broke the news to him. The lack of emotion he showed concerned her, especially since she knew he was going back to the apartment alone.

He'd called Prompto as soon as he hung up with Monica. Unfortunately, both of them were pretty far away from the city when they got the news. Prompto was out near Hammerhead and Gladio was in Cape Caem.

Gladio took the risk and took a chocobo alone, resting more for the bird's sake than his own before continuing through the darkness. Weighing his options, between thieves on the roads or daemons in the woods, he opted for the woods and took a more direct route. Thankfully the Six were with him and he only ran into a few troubling fauna and a pair of lower level flan on the way.

Prompto's motorcycle was being repaired after being swiped by a red giants sword the previous week, so the gunslinger had just stuck his thumb out to the next west bound truck and kept his fingers crossed that he was among reputable company.

The Astrals must have been with them (for a change) as they arrived at the main gate to Lestallum within minutes of each other.

"Gladio, hold up," Prompto called as he caught up with him on the street to their apartment. He patted the larger man on the back when he reached him. "Hey, glad you made it safe."

"You too."

"Any new news?"

"No, I was just about to head up." Gladio swallowed and unlocked the heavy exterior door, letting them both in. "I'm glad you're here. Other than comforting Iris I'm not very good at this."

The blonde just nodded, lacking anything else to say. Ignis was always the one so put together between the four of them, but now that he needed them it seemed almost backwards.

By the time they reached their floor it was clear that something was wrong. The worn carpet in the hallway just outside their apartment was soaked, squelching beneath their feet when they stepped on it. That combined with the smell of rotting flesh turned them both on high alert. Fumbling with his keys, Gladio managed to get the door open and they both froze.

The apartment was covered in broken glass and the stench of rot permeated every corner. There was blood all over the counter and the floor of the kitchenette.

"Ignis!" Prompto called out, but there was no answer. He dashed to the bathroom first and threw open the door, praying to the gods he didn't find the strategist in the tub. He let out a sigh of relief when he found the room empty.

Gladio made his way to the bedroom and threw open the door. The blinds were drawn, shielding any exterior light, but he could make out the faint outline of a body swaddled in the blankets. He took a few cautious steps toward the bed, afraid at what he might find. "Ignis?"

There was a shift and Ignis pulled the blankets further over his head. Gladio let out a sigh of relief that there was at least movement. He reached out and rubbed Ignis' back through the comforter. "Hey, Iggy… You alright?" As soon as he asked it he kicked himself. Of course he wasn't alright.

Ignis didn't respond. He just curled into a tighter ball.

"Well… Prom and I are here for you. We're gonna clean up. Can we get you anything?"

Ignis cleared his throat. "I could use some water."

Gladio just looked over his shoulder, but Prompto was already on it. "There was blood everywhere. Are you hurt?"

Ignis rolled over to face him and extended his arm from his cocoon. His hand was wrapped in gauze and thankfully smelled of ointment instead of the rot from the main room. "I was out of potions and couldn't…I couldn't focus enough for a spell."

Now that was saying something. Ignis could use magic almost as easily as he could breathe. This was bad.

Gladio was never good at magic except basic pick-up boosts of healing when in the field while they were in the heat of battle, but hopefully he could at least do this. Closing Ignis' hand with his own he focused and felt the tingle of the kings magic flow lightly through his fingers for a moment. When he was done he unwrapped the gauze and was glad to see only a small scab running the length of the slice. It would leave a scar, but at least it wouldn't get infected.

Prompto brought in the water and put it down on the end table. "I'm gonna start cleaning up. I think I found what was making the smell."

"I'll help." Gladio squeezed Ignis' injured hand lightly and was happy to get a faint squeeze in return. "We'll leave you alone, but we're not going anywhere. Shout if you need anything."

Leaving the bedroom with the door cracked they started cleaning up. Sweeping up the glass they piled it into the ruined area rug along with the soggy potatoes and rotten steak that they scraped off the floor behind the television. After clearing most of the floor they gave it a thorough vacuum and scrub to be sure they got as much glass and food as they could. Prompto wiped the blood from the steak off the wall and made a mental note to get some paint to cover the brown streak on the plaster.

It took opening all the windows and half a bottle of cleaning agent to get the smell out of the small apartment.

Gladio inspected the contents of the fridge and pantry, making a list of what they needed. "Hey, Prom. Could you keep an eye on Iggy for a little bit? I'm gonna run down to the trading post and see what I can get for food."

"Alright… I'm gonna try and whip up something. I'm starved."

"Same. Be back soon," he said before closing the door.

Three days passed and Ignis barely got out of bed other than to use the bathroom. Gladio and Prompto kept replenishing his glass of water on the end table and bringing him small plates of food or soup. Sometimes the plate was as they'd left it when they checked on him, hours later. Sometimes there was a spoonful of rice or a bite taken out of a slice of toast, but not much more.

Ignis awoke on the fourth day, his eyes still puffy and raw from crying, to the sound of a pan and sizzling. He rolled himself out of bed, not bothering to put on his glasses as he padded his way to the kitchen.

Prompto was at the stove making something that might have been an omelet in a different life, but Ignis could already smell it burning. Looking over his shoulder, Prompto gave him a cautious smile. "Hey, Iggy. Just making breakfast. Can I get you anything?"

Ignis made his way into the small kitchen and cringed when he looked down at the contents of the pan. "Prompto… you know you're not supposed to use metal utensils in a non-stick pan. Correct?"

Prompto bit his lip before looking guiltily at the metal spatula and back down to the destroyed enamel of the once black pan. "Oh… that explains a bit."

Ignis reached over and turned off the range before dumping the eggs into the trash and put the pan in the sink to soak. He'd probably have to throw it out later.

Part of him wanted to snap at the younger man. Eggs and good cooking hardware were becoming precious commodities in the world as it is, but remembering his own tantrum from a few days ago he withheld his comment about wasting food. He was as guilty as any and they were only trying to help.

Looking up he noticed the hurt expression Prompto was trying to hide. He did, after all, just throw out the food he was making. "Apologies for… That was rude of me."

"A little. Yeah." Prompto said, but smiled. "But we can all get a little snippy sometimes. You have good reason."

Ignis nodded, leaning back onto the counter. "Where's Gladio?"

"Buying a new broiler pan. I'll text him to get a frying pan too, if he can find one."

"Thank you."

There was a long silence between the two of them. It had been months since either Prompto or Gladio had stayed at the apartment, and now that the two of them were there and Devon wasn't it felt…awkward. Ignis knew it shouldn't, but it did.

"Tell you what," Prompto said, breaking the silence. "When Gladio gets back we'll order some food from the vendor down the block and when you're feeling up to it you can show me how to cook a proper egg or whatever else you feel like eating. Unless you'd rather eat Gladio's noodles or burnt toast for the rest of the week."

Something light flickered inside Ignis at the thought of teaching someone how to cook. To teach anyone anything again. Prompto beamed at him with a smile that made him remember what it felt like to feel the sun on his face. He gave a small smile. "That sounds like a fine idea."

"There's our Iggy. I knew you were in there somewhere." Prompto's smile broadened before he stood on his toes and gave Ignis a light kiss on the forehead. Ignis didn't really have time to process the unexpected affection before Prompto was making his way across the apartment to the bathroom. "But first thing's first. I'm running you a bath. Where do you keep the good soap?"

Rubbing his eyes, Ignis groaned. "Prompto, a bath really isn't necessary. Besides we should be conserving water and-"

"Iggy," Prompto said, poking his head out of the bathroom. The hot water was already running. "You haven't showered in days and, honestly, you stink. You are taking a bath."

Frowning, Ignis pulled up his shirt to his nose, making a face when his own odor hit him. He did smell rather ripe.

"Yeah, I told you." Prompto smirked. "So, where's the good soap? The one with the little lavender bits in it."

Wondering if this was what he sounded like years ago, nagging at Noctis to eat his vegetables, Ignis sighed. If they were here to take care of him, he might as well let them take care of him. "The soaps under the sink."

~X~X~X

Gods, I'm so sorry Iggy. Why am I torturing my boys so? This all has a point to it, I promise.

Comments are always appreciated. Anything you guys liked or disliked? What would you like to see in future chapters? Let me know.

Also, happy 2018 everyone!