Really, it's always the most innocent things that lead to the most destruction.
It's a good day, an easy day, a slow day when Elliot gets the idea. After all, the thing is just sitting there, and even if Leo hates it, what's really the worst that could happen? Once the idea is in his mind, it itches, as if on some level he's aware that his master's will won't allow him to simply go, so he tugs Leo aside from the others, brushing his lips over the curve of one small ear. "Leo," he murmurs, "Master, while you're busy with the Baskervilles do you mind if I just...stretch my legs a bit? I want to see some of the old estate." His vision clouds for a moment as he admits, "I'd like to visit my parents' graves."
Since I'm the one responsible for their deaths.
Leo doesn't like it, but at the same time, being so utterly and completely and control of Elliot's movements is… weird, Chain or not. And not to mention there's the chance to get a few things done that Elliot-well, that Elliot might frown upon, or perhaps like a bit too much and get in the way of…
"… You're probably being driven mad by boredom, anyway," he wryly allows, absently reaching a hand up to fiddle with the crest on Elliot's chest, tracing a fingertip along the lines of the cross. "As much as I dislike not having you around… I can't blame you. Go ahead, I'll survive a few hours."
"You'd better," Elliot says, but softens the words by catching that hand, bringing it up to his mouth for a brief brush of his lips. It's just barely innocent enough to be taken as a sign of fealty, and all that he'll allow when there are people about, people that, though Leo seems to trust them, Elliot has no desire to give any leverage over his master.
The second the White Knight vanishes, Gilbert clears his throat, hat in his hands. "Ah, Master, I think I've made some progress with the girl."
With a little huff, Leo turns back around, huddling himself underneath the heavy red cloak of the Baskervilles as if Elliot's disappearance has left him ten degrees colder. "Have you, now? That's more than I can say for your brother, then." Pointedly, he ignores how Vincent obviously bites into his own cheek.
Gil doesn't look at either of them. It had been hard enough sneaking down there, listening to her cry, being so utterly, pathetically helpless to do anything to stop it. "She trusts me," he says simply. "Not that I have her best interests at heart, but she knows what I'm working for. I think-she says that she'll only give me the location if I bring her proof that Oz is alive today. I tried casting an illusion with Raven, but she saw through it. I..." He swallows thickly, knowing just how recently the same request was denied, but surely... "If I could just go to Pandora for an hour..."
Leo's mouth twists, a mix disbelieving and begrudging. "What exactly do you think you can accomplish in an hour? Oz is sealed, and for good reason. You can't exactly bring him here to show her that he's alive."
"I..." Gilbert huffs out a breath, jamming his hands into the pocket of his coat only to remember that he's out of cigarettes. "I didn't mean that. I just meant he could tell me something, something only the two of them would know, and I could relay it to her. Then she'd know he's alive, and she'd be more willing to trust us."
The duke's gaze sharply swivels to Vincent. "Is there a particular reason why you can't get anything out of here now?"
Vincent sighs, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. "She's a woman, my lord. Fickle as they come." He ignores Lottie's huff some paces away.
A pale hand escapes the folds of his cloak to grind into the bridge of his nose. "Fine," Leo mutters. "But before you leave, Gilbert-there's one thing I wanted to ask."
At least Gil knows how pathetic it is how his heart leaps, his throat closing at the idea that he's going to see him, he's going to be near Oz soon, going to see with his own eyes that he's alive if not exactly thriving. He tries to keep the emotions off his face, knowing how little they benefit him in current company, and nods. "Yes, Master, anything."
"How good are your sewing skills, exactly?"
Gil blinks. It's not exactly the question he's expecting, and he stammers, "Ah, w-well enough. Well enough to mend most tears anyway." In truth they're better than that, but unless Vincent's said something there's no reason to give Leo cause to mock him.
The expression that crosses Leo's face is something akin to a pout as he glares in Vincent's direction. "You said he was better than that."
Vincent, to his credit, doesn't laugh, though it's certainly a struggle. "He is, he's just being modest."
"Well," Leo huffs, annoyed as his eyes sharply fall upon Gilbert again. "Stop it. I'm tired of soliciting Charlotte for her things; are you good enough to make dresses, or am I going to have to have you kidnap someone for that, too?"
Gil's cheeks color as he admits, "As long as it's nothing for society, I'm sure I can manage." What the hell, maybe if he can be useful to his master in some way, no matter how odd the request, he'll manage to wrangle future favors.
A part of him misses when the satisfaction of serving well was the best reward he could imagine.
"Who is the lady?"
Leo has the decency to flush himself, just a bit, when he curls a bit more into his cloak and sniffs out a dignified, "It's me. I mean-I'm no lady, obviously, but-"
"It's best not to ask too many questions about the private lives of others, Gil," Vincent interrupts on a drawl, much to Leo's relief. "At least you shouldn't have too much difficult making something flattering for his figure, hmm?"
"And what exactly does that mean?" is Leo's sour bristle.
"That for such a petite thing, you have a lovely shape to you."
It's a good thing that Elliot isn't here.
Perverts and deviants. All the people he knows are perverts and deviants.
Gil's face is a dark, painful red at the idea as he admits, "I have...some experience in such things. Not for myself, but-yes, Master. I can do what you're asking."
Leo's build isn't much different from Oz's, though longer-legged, but that shouldn't be too much of an issue. Gil reminds himself that Leo's the pervert, not him, but Leo is his master, so it's really just fine to be thinking about such things. "Any special requirements?"
Leo sucks in a slow breath. "Ell… he likes… I mean. Ah. Maybe something that bares a bit more shoulder…"
"You look like you're going to pass out," is Lottie's purr of a remark tossed in Gilbert's direction. "Be grateful, at least now you don't have to take in the bust of-"
"Do make sure it flatters his complexion-darker jewel tones," Vincent mildly interrupts, offering his brother a smile.
"Well, that's obvious," Gilbert mutters at his brother, nearly crushing the empty cigarette case to powder in his hands. He avoids Lottie's eyes, simply giving Leo a low bow. "As you wish, Master. I'll take care of it. May I go?" Anything, anything to get away from this conversation.
"Yes, go," Leo agrees, seeming less than inclined to continue lingering on conversations that are terribly awkward. "Just don't be too long about it."
It's with relief so strong it's palpable that Gilbert flees the Nightray mansion, arriving at Pandora as quickly as the carriage will take him. He avoids everyone-easy enough to do for someone who knows them so well and sticks so closely to the shadows-all the way down to the dungeon.
There's no helping using his credentials on the guards, though he does hope he'll be able to leave before anyone notices him and makes too much issue of his appearance. The heavy groaning weight of the door opening is like a weight being lifted as he slowly, anxiously steps inside.
It's a large room, at least. He hasn't seen it since the last time he'd laid the sealing spells, but the furnishings are well enough, bed and chamberpot and writing desk. Gil hangs back, several feet from the bars, remembering vividly what had happened the last time he'd been foolish enough to go close. "Oz."
Two years should have done him more justice.
Then again, two years minus sunlight, minus real, honest human contact, minus-well, everything-takes a solid toll on any person, and certainly, it's not something Oz is immune to.
He stirs from where he's coiled himself into a ball on the bed, where most of his time is spent if he isn't pacing like some caged animal (which he is, by all intents and purposes), the long tail of his hair swishing over his shoulder as he sits up, squinting through dim light to peer at the other man. "… Gil?" It's strange, actually talking to someone-being allowed to talk to someone, mind, which is normally barred by both persons outside and inside of his head. "What… I didn't have anyone tell me you were visiting," Oz lamely finishes, as if it even matters. What was he going to do, make himself more presentable? Hardly.
It takes all of his willpower-not that it's much, Gil's admitted that to himself a thousand times-not to simply run over, apologize, fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, make sure he's all right.
Get ahold of yourself, man. You're not doing him any favors.
Gil clears his throat, hands stuffed into his pockets, balled into fists. "It's an...unplanned visit."
Don't ask how he is. You know how he is. Don't make it worse, just do your job and go. It's difficult, so difficult when he hears the rasp in that voice, sees the dark shades under those eyes, the pallor of that skin, and knows how it all should be. "I..." He clears his throat again, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep himself grounded. "I'm not here to re-seal you or anything. I've seen Ada. She wants to know you're alive."
That, quicker than anything, makes Oz bolt the rest of the way upright, too-thin fingers clutching at the bedsheets to steady himself as he throws his legs over the side of it. "Ada? But-" A quick swallow follows, as Oz's mind quickly puts two and two together. If Gilbert has seen Ada, then that means she's not hiding anymore, and that without a doubt-"Is she all right? Leo… he's not hurting her, is he?"
God, seeing Oz like this tears at his heart, the healthy glow of years ago faded to the slender wraith of a boy he sees, and Gil has to remind himself with every second that he's doing his best, that the only way to help Oz is to purge him of Jack's spirit, that his goals align with Leo's, that he's doing everything he can. "She's fine," he assures his old master, allowing himself one brief smile. "I swear it. Leo's...busy. It's been just me and Vincent talking to her."
"Busy? With what?" Then again, does he really want to know about Leo's business these days? Oz slumps back, plucking at the mattress rather than lunge at the bars of his cage for even the sparsest of contact. It never ends well-usually, with Jack attempting to play games, and god, but he's glad the man is quiet for the moment. "I'm glad she's fine. I… that's why you're here then, I guess? To double-check that I haven't died yet," he only half jokes.
Gil flinches at the joke, at how accurate it really is, and at how much he wishes it weren't the case. He's at least keeping it together enough to ignore the little question about Leo's business, steering the conversation back to safer, more important territory. "I'd come more often if I could, I just-Ada wants some proof. Something I can tell her that only you would know?"
Oz's nose wrinkles at that. "Well, that's hard, you were there when we were so young… oh! I remember the names of every kitten in her first cat's litter, and all the colors. You refused to come in the room, and would run every time we talked about them," he reminds Gil dryly. "Want me to write it down so you don't have to relive the horror?"
Gil's mouth twists at the memories, though just the thought of cats isn't enough to bring on the chills, the shakes, the paralyzing fear that seeing the animals in the flesh does. "That would work, I bet. Thank you," he adds, awkwardly.
Both times he'd come in since the last, botched attempt to "help" have been easier than this, and harder too. He'd just stood there, in the shadows, watching Oz sleep, reassuring himself that no matter how it felt to be separated again, no matter his own guilt, Oz was at least alive.
This...talking to him, seeing that glint in his eyes, seeing him move-this is much, much harder.
Hauling himself to his feet, Oz makes his way over to the desk to scribble down the note in question. "… You're taking care of her, right, Gil?" he suddenly says, eyeing the paper once more before folding it up into a little square and tentatively making his way to the bars separating them. "I know you said Leo isn't paying her much mind right now, but…"
Gil swallows hard, all too aware of how limited his influence actually is. "I'm trying," he admits, shuffling closer, trying to focus only on the note and not on how close they're about to be after two years. "The last time I saw her was just a couple hours ago, and she looked fine. She's..." He flushes pink, suddenly terribly ashamed of his little brother. "I don't think Leo's seen her at all since she arrived," he finishes, at least able to convey that much good news as he approaches the bars.
"… That's good," Oz allows, lingering a step back for a moment, clutching at the little piece of paper enough that he's crumpling it. "He can be… ah. Really intense." Scary, more like. He frowns. "It's probably better… if I don't touch you, you know. The last time…"
Gil nods slowly. He remembers the last time all too well, and what it had cost them both. "Just toss it through, I'll pick it up." He worries at his lower lip, then promises, "I don't know how much he'll listen to me-you know he's got power I can't even figure out, but...I swear I'm doing everything I can to make sure she's safe. And you're helping, too."
Oz rolls his eyes before he can stop himself. "I'm not. I'm the reason she's in there in the first place; I can't do anything from in here." It comes out a bit too cheerful, for as bitter as the words are, and Oz heaves a sigh as he aims the scrunched up paper for a shot through the bars, tossing it out. "At least I have you watching out for her."
"It's not your fault." The words come so easily to his lips, and for good reason, given how many times he's spoken them. Somehow, they always seem to come easier than it's not my fault, but he doesn't want to think too hard about that. He picks up the scrap of paper, tucking it into his pocket, and stands, shoulders drooping. "Is there anything..."
God, his chest aches from how much he wants to do something more.
"You know there's not," Oz simply replies, smile wan and eyes lidded. There's that inclination to drift closer, to reach a hand through the bars of his cage and touch Gilbert for once, but he stops it, no matter the compulsion. "Gil… tell Ada to do the right thing, okay? This isn't about family secrets anymore. If the Baskervilles hadn't done all of this, who knows what would have happened?"
Gil bows his head, sort of a nod, sort of an admission, sort of defeated. "I know. I'm trying. She's...protective of you." Something I understand.
He looks up again, eyes tracing over that familiar, yet so changed face, taking in every detail because god, he has no idea how long it's going to be before he next sees Oz awake and looking at him. He sees it now, of course, what he'd never remembered before. He sees that it's more than just a Vessalius resemblance, sees his old master's best friend in those green eyes, the shape of his face, everything. Somehow, the long months in the dungeon have only heightened the similarity.
He hisses out an exasperated breath at himself for having so little willpower after all. "Back up, I'm going to check the sealing spells. I don't know when he'll let me come next."
"… The last time you did that when I was awake, it was a bad idea," Oz wearily points out, but nevertheless backs up all the same, until his knees hit the bed and he flops backwards onto it once more.
"I'm ready this time." It's easier to say that than anything so I don't have to leave just yet, and Gil just gives a brief little glare inward, mentally daring Jack to try something. He runs his fingers through the bars, checking the edge of the seal, keeping one eye trained on the boy.
"You, uh eating all right?" he asks, even though he knows Oz must be. It's not as though Pandora is going to let their prized possession die of starvation when they have so many other interesting ways they'd probably rather kill him.
"I miss your cooking." Ugh. Probably shouldn't bring that up, Gilbert will get all emotional and that'll just be bad-but it's true all the same, and so it's hard to bite his tongue. Oz sighs, rolling over onto his side to watch the older man. "I can't remember the last time I had chocolate."
Gil bites the inside of his cheek, pouring a bit of Raven's power into the sealing ring. "I'll get you some chocolate. I'd send you over a whole meal sometime, but I'm pretty sure they'd search it before it got to you."
He can't really blame Pandora for being skeptical about his intentions, after all. He's pretty skeptical about them himself sometimes.
Oz can't help but slowly smile at that. "… They probably would, yeah. I miss not having you around to cook for me all the time… you were always really good at it, you know. I probably didn't tell you that enough, huh?"
The power of Gilbert's chain always makes him dizzy nowadays, though the reason of that he honestly has no idea. Jack? The fact that he's technically just a chain? Probably all of the above. Oz feels his eyes glaze a bit, and he doesn't quite realize that he simply rolls off the bed to flop next to it on the floor. There's that feeling of displacement again-and the worst part is not even being able to warn Gilbert that Jack is waking up.
Gilbert snorts, bending to his task more fully. He can barely spare half an ear for the conversation, not when he's listening to his chain. Even Raven is being distracting, trying to whisper creaking dusty words in his mind when he's trying to talk. "You never needed to tell me anything, Master. I was never as good as you deserved, anyway."
Shut up, he growls at Raven's presence, narrowing his eyes as the seal pulses, fluctuating under his fingers. It's fighting him, something that makes him tug off his glove with his teeth, ignoring his own precautions and shoving his whole naked hand through the bars to press his palm against the seal. "What..."
Ow, Oz dimly thinks as the whole seal flashes, that little, electrifying course of power flashing through his own limbs to the point that he's numb. It's the last thing he remembers before a cold shock follows, like being doused in an ice lake in the middle of winter, and no, no no no no that is the last thing that he wants-
Not that he has a say in it, anyway.
"… Weird." That's not his voice. Well, it is, but he isn't saying it, not forming the words, nor is it him willing his body to slowly roll over and push upright once more. "Gil-is the seal down?" As worried as his voice makes him seem, Oz knows it's a lie. "Maybe it's a sign to go and see Ada in person." Supposed to be a joke, but it isn't one, not at all.
"Yeah, I'm sure Jack would love that," Gil mutters under his breath, then curses, raking his hair back from his face with the hand not currently pressed to the seal. It's the last thought he has before it really rebounds, changing and mutating under his touch. His gaze darts to Oz, expecting to see that carefree, casually cruel look he'd seen last time, but all he sees is concern.
No such thing as too careful, he reminds himself. "Oz, kneel down in the middle of the seal, quick. I'm gonna have to lay a new spell. It should only be down for a second. Raven!"
Oz doesn't quite hear it, no matter how he tries to, no matter how his body moves anyway. For a moment, he's surprised that Jack is doing as he's told-but the he feels it, that little underlying thrum of power, still as that same, frozen lake he's just been tossed into, and god, he knows it's subtle enough that Gilbert can't even begin to notice, not now.
Whatever it is that Jack does, however it is that Jack manipulates him and the power he draws from the Abyss, it always seems more than capable of stopping Glen's chains in their tracks, and this is no exception. Oz can feel the palpable snap, the way that the seal doesn't quite mend, and how his own face twists into confusion and worry, so very convincingly.
"Gil… what's going on?"
Shit, whatever's happening, it's bad, and there's the distinct possibility that it might not be Jack. There's certainly enough infighting, enough surprises in life that it might be something else, and if there is, he's not even close to ready for it. Gil bites his lip, trying to think fast when Oz sounds so confused, so afraid, and damn it, the one good thing about having him in this hellhole is that he's supposed to be safe!
"It's fine," he lies, trying to keep his breathing under control. He can feel the seal unraveling now faster than ever before, and god what he'd give to have Break at his side for this. This is no time to yearn for absent friends, though, so he shoves that anxiety into his bond with his chain, slamming both hands onto the ground and letting the power spill from him. "Hold still, I'm laying a new circle now!"
Even if it isn't something he can see, Oz can certainly feel Jack smirking, hear him laughing.
"It's not working." His voice sounds just shy of frantic, no matter the obvious struggle to keep it level and calm. "Gil-you can't leave it like this. What if Jack comes out? He'd just… everyone in Pandora…"
"Damn it, I'm not leaving it like this, I'm fixing it, I'm fixing it! Just-is he trying anything?" he shouts, sweat beading on his brow as he channels more power, more than is really safe for his own body, snarling at Raven when he tries to pull back. Don't fight me, it'll be worse if I let him escape!
His very bones ache at the strain he's putting on them, head throbbing, pounding with the volume of power rushing through, and he can barely see straight, falling to his knees as he grits his teeth so hard they feel like they're grinding into powder. He tastes blood, and his fingernails scrabble at the ground, but the seal finally, shakily, goes up.
It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's strong. Shit, he knows he needs to get in that cell and check every bit of the circle, but for the moment all he can do is slump against the bars, panting raggedly. "S...sorry..."
Yes, he's trying things, he's the one doing this, the second you step in here, he's going to-
"It's okay, Gil." His voice is shaky, and Oz inwardly whimpers, a sound that only he can hear. "It's okay. Just-come in and check this thing out, and then… then maybe you should get out of here, before Jack wakes up, and actually does try something… you've already used so much power."
Gil nods wearily, ignoring his body's desire to rest, hauling himself up by the bars. "Yeah. You, uh, know the routine. Don't move."
God, this is stupid, but if there were any choice about it, he wouldn't be here in the first place. Without Break, he's the only one that can finish the seal, and if he waits long enough to recover his powers, that could be all the opening Jack needs.
He has the key, of course, magical and physical. For all his exhaustion, he's wary, keeping both eyes trained on the fragile youth in the center of his circle, no matter how superfluous it seems. He enters the cell, locking the door behind him and scooting the key out, just far enough that his long arms will be able to reach it, but Oz's won't. "Behave yourself, Jack," he says cautiously, not knowing whether the man can hear him or not. "I don't want to hurt either of you. This won't take long."
For once, Oz wonders if Jack is just bored, and is just playing a game.
The voice echoing through his mind-be a good boy, and just watch-puts an end to those thoughts, because it's when Gilbert is nearly done that he finally shifts, a hesitant hand reaching out towards Gil, not quite touching.
"… I know we're not supposed to touch or anything," Oz-no, Jack, it's just Jack, Oz miserably notes-murmurs. "But I just… I really miss you, Gil. It's… I'm really sorry, about everything that happened." His lips crack into a wry smile. "For what it's worth, I haven't heard from Jack in weeks, so…"
Gilbert's breath hitches. He makes the mistake of making eye contact-knows it's a mistake, knows it's stupid, can't help himself-and sighs out a breath, all the fight going out of his shoulders. "I...I miss you too, Oz." He swallows hard, shutting his eyes briefly. "Every day."
It's worse than when you were in the Abyss. It's worse than when I never knew you. It's worse than when you were back and pulling away from me, growing into such a strong, beautiful young man and I knew I'd always be alone.
He wants nothing more than to reach out, to lay a hand on Oz's cheek, ruffle that messy blond hair, pull him close and tell him it would be fine, but at least he has a little more self-control than that. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I hate seeing you cooped up like this. I just...god, I just want this to be over."
"… You and me both."
That same, hesitant hand swings out further, snatching hold of one leg of Gilbert's trousers, long fingers wrapped up in the fabric as Oz-no, Jack-looks up at him, wide-eyed, doe-eyed, tired and desperate all at once. "I'm not feeling better. Not really-I just-" his voice cracks a bit, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he glances to the side with a shuddering little laugh. "I don't know how much longer I can do this. There's no one, absolutely no one, all I have is you-"
Gil's pretty sure that a knife between his ribs would hurt less. He flinches at first, but nothing bad happens at the touch, and maybe that was a one-time thing after all. God, Oz looks so upset, so worn-down and broken, and it almost drives him to tears. "Oz..."
He licks his lips, stepping a little closer. "You always have me. Even if I'm not here, you know...god, you know there's not a thing I wouldn't do for you."
There's not a thing I wouldn't become for you.
"Stay with me," is the plea that follows, and both of his hands are on Gil, then, as he lurches forward, face pressing into Gilbert's hip with a little hitch of his breath. "Just… just for a little while. Nothing bad will happen, and even if something does, I know you can stop it-" He huffs, his cheek rubbing against Gilbert's thigh as he glances up, hair fanning around his face. "Please?"
Gil's throat goes suddenly dry, head throbbing with the aftereffects of the magic he'd used, and this is nothing he's prepared for. He has trouble swallowing, has trouble breathing, and no part of his brain is even working well enough for speech. He stammers, stumbling over a few hurried sentence fragments before he settles into, "O-oz, you're-I-m-maybe just for a minute, but-"
A slow bat of his eyes follows, just enough to make it seem like he's blinking back a bit of wetness there. No actual waterworks-no, that's not something Oz would allow, after all-and so he sniffs it away, digs his fingers in firmer still, snaking them around Gilbert's legs as he scoots forward on his own knees.
"You're shaking," not-Oz whispers, letting his own voice waver a bit as he nuzzles at Gilbert's thigh again, his breath hitching just slightly as he lifts a seemingly hesitant hand upward, gently grasping at Gilbert's belt. It's funny, listening to Oz's rather shell-shocked protests, to the way he recoils within his own mind. You can't tell me you didn't see this coming. "I… do you want to sit? The bed's not much, but-"
A strangled noise forces its way up from Gil's throat, the blood pounding a rapid tattoo in his ears, everything slow, everything flashing before his eyes in bright clarity, and all he can hear is the rapid pulse of his own breath, and the whisper-soft drag of Oz's soft hands across his trousers.
His own hand shoots out, catching Oz's wrist, stopping him even if he can't stop himself from stroking his thumb over the back of Oz's hand. "I-god, you don't have to-you don't have to do that to get me to stay, Oz."
He knows his hand is trembling, that sweat is beading on his forehead, and he can't even breathe. He has no idea what Oz will see in his eyes-the hunger, probably, that he's tried to keep hidden for more than half of his life. It doesn't seem real, it doesn't seem possible that Oz could be here, could be asking for such a thing, and the only explanation is that he's lonely. "You don't...if anyone should be...it shouldn't be you," he finishes on a whisper, shaking hand tightening on Oz's wrist.
A shake of Oz's head follows, and his head tilts, nuzzling next against Gilbert's hand, his lips parting as he presses his mouth to it, warm and soft. "It's not… to get you to stay," he murmurs, letting his face heat, just slightly. It's not a difficult reaction to summon, not when Oz is actually frantic in the back of his mind, embarrassed and humiliated and angry. "I mean-it is, but that's… I also-" His breath leaves him in a rush. "I want to. Being down here… being away from you-" That flush darkens, and he ducks his head with a little laugh. "I guess I realized pretty quickly what I've been missing, you know? I should've… all the times that you looked at me before…"
Gil would think it was a dream, except his dreams are never like this. His dreams are always fire and blood and betrayal, not this, never this. Slowly, he kneels down, tracing his fingers over Oz's cheek, brushing against that soft skin he's tried so, so hard never to touch for too long, even before it was dangerous. "I...you were never supposed to know," he admits, choked, furious with himself for being so obvious. There's nothing he wants more than to lean in, to taste those lovely pink lips, but god, what if he's wrong, what if Oz has just been down here too long, what if it's one of his pranks? "I-look, I never wanted to frighten you..."
Not-Oz makes a face, his nose scrunching up even as he leans into Gilbert's hand, lips parting again as his teeth gently catch on Gilbert's thumb in a light reprimand of a bite. "You're an idiot," he matter-of-factly says, though the words escape fondly. "You can't scare me, Gilbert. You never have. Do you really think if I'd even suggest this if I didn't want it, too? You, of all people, should know how I am by now…"
That, of all things, draws a surprised little laugh out of Gil, something so carefree, so Oz that it can hardly be anything else. "Sorry. I just..." He curls his hand around Oz's cheek, thumb stroking over his lips, brushing the pad over the softness there. This, even this, to be able to touch that softness with his own hand, is more than he'd ever thought he'd have. "You were always braver than me."
A quick breath escapes those lips, and a wet, pink tongue flicks out, dragging over Gilbert's thumb, sucking it into his mouth with a little bob of his head. "Waited just as long, though," Oz's voice murmurs, and his eyes lid with a little shudder before glancing upward again, his mouth releasing Gilbert's thumb with a slick, wet pop. "Gil, I…"
This time Gil can't stop the yelp that escapes, or the painful, aching pressure pooling in his abdomen, and honestly, he doesn't try. It's only because this is the boy he treasures, cherishes more than any other that he doesn't just tackle him to the floor, rutting like a crazed animal, though the impulse is strong. He doesn't even have the presence of mind to insist no you haven't, you didn't wait those ten years, all he can do is pull Oz close, hardly daring even now to press his mouth against the boy's. His hands are shaking so badly he wouldn't be able to hold a spoon or a pen, and his breath is a hitching, uneven thing as he does what he's wanted to do since he was nothing but a child himself, and discovers once and for all how his chosen master's lips taste.
The fear that coils through the back of Oz's mind is humorous, and Jack is inclined to firmly ignore it, all in favor of sinking against Gilbert with a low, relieved groan, being sure to keep himself shaky, a little hesitant no matter how his hands grasp for the other man, grabbing at his shoulders, his hair, anything he can touch.
He also reminds himself that Oz wouldn't be that good of a kisser, considering he hasn't had the practice that Jack has had, but he's good enough, if not a bit clumsy. With a huff of an exhale, he tumbles backward, dragging Gilbert with him, never mind that the floor underneath him is hard and cold-distracting enough is Gilbert's body above him, warm and silk-over-steel, and at the very least, Jack doesn't have to fake the inclination he has to arch up and wriggle his way against him.
Surely, if Gil ever did have dreams that were good, like a normal person, this would be front and center in each and every one. Every minuscule brush of skin against his, every sound, every touch is enough to reduce him to nothing more than impulse, nothing more than the hunger, and what keeps him from turning into a savage beast isn't caution, but the other hunger, just as strong, to make this last for ages.
Slowly, cautiously, less afraid that he's going to spook the boy and more afraid that it's going to be over too soon, Gil bears down, long lean limbs splaying Oz out on the floor, kissing him with all the desire he's kept poorly-buried for most of his life, and he lurches forward, grinding his hips down against Oz's, and god, he's so hard it hurts, and it's definitely going to be over far, far too soon. "Oz," he murmurs against those soft lips, and for once it's the right name with the right partner. "Oz, Oz, Oz..."
"Gil-" The man's name escapes as something akin to a gasp, and a low, broken whine escapes Jack's throat as his legs spread, thighs clutching to either side of Gilbert's hips and trembling as he squirms. One, pale hand clutches at Gilbert's back, fisting into his coat, refusing to let go as the other tries to wriggle between them, color willed to his face once more as his fingers drag over the hard line of Gil's cock, straining against his trousers. "You're-" He swallows hard, mouth dry. "You're so hard already. I want…" His fingers curl, squeezing, the next tremor he allows anticipatory rather than any sort of hesitant. "I want to taste you." How long have you wanted Oz to say that to you, I wonder?
Gil's whole body shudders at that, and he nods frantically in agreement, suddenly a lot less concerned with propriety and a hell of a lot more concerned with the quick, deft hand around his cock, where he'd never dared to imagine it might be. "Y-yeah, if that's what-if you want, I-god, Oz-"
He draws back enough to fumble with his own belt, getting it open along with his trousers, squeezing hard at the base of his cock to keep from coming just at the sight of the boy, at the sight of everything he's ever wanted offering itself to him.
A ragged inhale follows, and Not-Oz barely pushes himself up onto an elbow as his other hand grasps at Gilbert's shirt, trying to drag him forward, further up to straddle his chest. "Come here," he whispers, licking his lips, skin flushed and lips parted, his tongue flicking out to run over his own lower lip. "I've always… imagined you doing it, just like this." Another tug, and god, Gilbert is so close that he has to tilt his head forward, just a bit, just enough that his lips catch against the tip of his cock. "K-kneeling over me… just… riding my face, letting me taste all of you-"
It's a near thing-a very, very near thing, and Gil bites his lip bloody because of it-but Gil manages not to finish from that alone, blinking as he reminds himself sternly that he's not fifteen anymore, he's not going to embarrass himself like a kid, not when-
The sight of that little pink tongue darting out between Oz's lips almost does him in again.
He sucks in a long breath, bracing his knees wide, even the wrongness of it being on a dungeon floor with him kneeling over Oz of all things only adding to the allure. It would take a saint to refuse that face, that mouth, and Gilbert has never fancied himself one of those.
One hand holding himself steady, the other threading gently through his hair, Gil asks in a shaky voice, "Ready?" as he guides himself inside, into the closest thing to heaven he's ever going to feel.
This body still has something of a gag reflex, something Jack tries to swallow down as Gilbert slides over his tongue, as he sags back in favor of grabbing of the other man's hips, dragging him forward no matter how he has to swallow hard to keep from gagging. A low, muffled groan escapes him, and he draws in a quick breath through his nose, eyes closing briefly, his tongue eager, wriggling against the underside of Gilbert's thick cock as his lips stretch around him.
He's hard, too, something that only seems to make Oz angrier, more humiliated, and Jack only makes it worse-or better, perhaps?-as another, muffled noise leaves his throat as he sucks sloppily on Gilbert's cock, forgoing skill for eagerness, a hand fumbling down to press between his own legs with a heated sigh exhaling through his nose.
God, he can't breathe. Gil's so hard he feels the pulse of his heart in his cock, twitching, jerking against Oz's tongue, and it's only because the boy seems so eager that he wrestles down the guilt, letting himself drag across that perfect, pretty tongue, watching those pink lips grow slick and red and swollen with every slide. He sees Oz squirming, sees him touching himself, and he can't help the snap of his hips forward, can't stop even when Oz chokes, though he tries.
"Sorry," he whispers, hand tightening in his hair, "I'm sorry, you're so good, you're perfect, god, Oz-I'm going to-"
Sudden panic pulls him back from the edge, the awkward realization that he's only ever done this with Vincent, he's got no idea what's appropriate in this situation, can't imagine himself doing any of the things to Oz that he does to his brother. "I-where do you want me to-"
It's with a gasp that Jack draws back, panting through swollen lips, his breath hot against Gilbert's cock and his tongue dragging wetly over the tip of it, letting Gilbert leak all over his tongue. The taste makes him groan, makes him rut up into his own hand shamelessly, and it's been so long that he honestly doesn't have to fake it all that much. "Want to taste you," he mumbles, skin darkening another shade, and he gropes for Gilbert's hip, trying to drag him forward again. "I-in my mouth, please, I'll take all of it-"
Gil cries out at the sensation, at the sloppy, wet, slutty way Oz is sucking at him-no, never that, Oz is too perfect, to wonderful to be dirtied by even words like that, even if Gil can't control himself now, hips snapping forward to bury his cock in that lovely mouth, swelling harder at the sight, at the look of those lips stretched wide around him, the sound of wet choking gasps.
The world spins when he lets go, fifteen years of repressed lust and love taking over as he spills hot and wet on Oz's tongue, filling his mouth and trying, with whatever ragged shreds are left of his mind, not to slam so far down his throat that he chokes. "Oz," he moans, thrusting forward again and again, god, it feels like he'll never be done, "Oz, Oz..."
The sweetest decadence of all is being able to say that beloved name, and know it's true.
At this point in life, Jack shouldn't gag, shouldn't choke, but Oz would, and so he does, no matter how fast he swallows, coughing as he sucks and licks and laps up every bit of what Gilbert gives him, muffled, desperate groans lost around Gilbert's cock as he thrusts down Jack's throat. His fingers are tight around his own cock, stroking the hard, aching line of it through his trousers, and he gulps, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose as he comes as well, eyes fluttering and body arching, his hips rutting up into his own hand.
It's more difficult to smack away the insistent push and shove of Oz's consciousness like this, coming down from the haze of an orgasm, but Jack manages it, his head lolling back as he licks at his lips, panting as he sags to the floor. "Gil… god, Gil-you're perfect," he hoarsely manages.
It would be childish to say, No, you are, but Gil nearly does anyway, trying to catch his breath as he wriggles back down Oz's body. He snakes a hand down between his legs, a brief, startled grunt of disappointment at what he finds, and catches the boy by the wrist, bringing his sticky hand to his mouth. He sucks each finger into his mouth, hungry, needy, mouth watering at the taste he's wanted, craved for so long. When that elegant hand is clean, Gil closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I..."
A single look down at Oz, debauched, flushed, panting and sated, reminds him that this isn't the time to be shy. "I've loved you for so long," he admits, the words like ground glass in his stomach finally being removed.
"Sort of seems like bad timing for this, doesn't it?" is the breathless laugh that Jack manages, even though he wills Oz's lips into a smile, his expression to soften. "I should have told you the same thing… a long time ago, Gilbert. I'm sorry."
It's easy then, far, far to easy, to wriggle just a bit of power into that seal, to crack it apart at the seams so delicately that he doubts Gilbert even notices it, what with how his mind is so focused elsewhere. In Oz's body, Jack sags back to the floor, the smile on his lips wholly sated. "At least it's been said now."
The most genuine smile he's felt in years creases Gil's lips, and he leans down, taking another soft kiss before burying his face in Oz's neck, inhaling deeply as he settles on top of the boy. "Terrible timing," he agrees, that pounding in his head returning now that he's not so focused on other, much better things. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm the coward that waited half my life."
"Not a coward," Jack murmurs, dragging his hands up through Gilbert's hair, sighing at the weight of Gilbert's body atop him. "I know I always teased you too much, and called you useless… you really weren't. I'm just… well, I'm pretty good at being a jerk sometimes." The cracking of the seal is nearly audible to him now. Really, he'd like to see Gilbert set that up again, after all of this.
Gilbert tries to smile again, but the throbbing in his head is nearly unbearable. He closes his eyes, trying to will the pain away, but as soon as he does, Raven's dry croak echoes in his head.
Something is wrong.
There's nothing he wants less than to move, but it has to be done, even if he feels as if he's going to pass out with the way each heartbeat drags him down. "I-I have to-"
He stumbles, trying to stand, his heart racing, vision swimming. "I-Oz-I think-something's-"
Perfect.
A squeak drags itself from Oz's throat, and he pushes himself upright again, grabbing for one of Gilbert's legs instinctively. "Gil-Gil, are you all right?" He turns his gaze upward, eyes wide and concerned. "Whatever it is, it isn't Jack-he hasn't as much as moved since you came here."
Gil blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, but it hardly helps. He nearly trips over Oz's hold, grabbing his head to steady himself as he tries to focus on the seal.
Tries-and fails.
"No, shit, no, no no no no," he mutters, trying to think over the dull, insistent thumping of his heartbeat, and why the fuck is it so loud? He lurches forward, falling against the bars, grasping them hard to stay upright. "I need-Oz, let me go, I have to go get someone who can-"
There's no one, he knows. He's the only one left with the sealing magic since they lost Break, and he's utterly, completely spent.
"Gil, you can't leave me here-"
His fingers uncurl from Gilbert's leg, and though unsteady himself, Jack pulls himself to his feet, exhaling a fast breath. "Just-just get me out of here-maybe it's something with Pandora, maybe the gateways to the Abyss here are reacting to something. The last place I need to be if that's happening is here, because Jack could just draw on its power!"
Gil can't think, he can't fucking think. There's something wrong with the seal, something wrong with his connection to Raven, and all of it's swirling in his mind, muddying his thoughts. What would be worse to explain to Leo later, taking Oz and his passenger out, or leaving them here when it's not safe?
Can't fucking think.
Then again...Oz had said that Jack's been quiet for weeks, and he seems so lost, so frightened-and after what they've just shared, it feels like the basest sort of trickery to leave him where there's danger.
One thing's for sure: this seal is useless now. Gil reaches through the bars, grabbing the keys with the tips of his fingers and unlocking the door. He grabs the manacles from the wall, clicking them into place around Oz's wrists. "Sorry," he mutters, and brushes a last kiss to the boy's mouth. "For your safety as much as ours."
A wry smile curls over his lips, and Jack quickly nods, rather unfazed by the arrangement. "It's fine," he murmurs, wiggling his fingers a bit. "I understand. The last thing you need is someone like Jack running loose, right? Besides, this way I can see Ada in person… can't I?"
Gil wants to be happy, wants to be able to focus on the way this is probably the best day of his life, wants even to be able to enjoy bringing Oz into the sunshine for the first time in years.
He can't.
Something is wrong, very, very wrong, and it niggles at him the entire ride to the Nightray mansion, even as he tugs Oz out of the carriage. "I'm just going to put you in the dungeon with her, we've got some spells that will at least handle him for a while," he says under his breath, trying to avoid anyone's notice as he leads Oz up to the side door.
Jack beams-or, well, mostly does, aside from squinting beneath the sunlight that he's not quite used to after the past two years. "That's fine. I hope this doesn't get you in too much trouble-I mean, the whole thing is a mess, anyway…"
They scarcely make it into the mansion before a sharp, bloodcurdling shriek echoes down the hallway, and it's Jabberwock's eyes that appear first in the dim light, glinting in flickering candlelight as it hisses, growls, lunges but doesn't quite attack, not just yet. Jack, though continually unfazed, manages a flinch, stepping backwards and partially behind Gilbert as the chain snarls in their direction.
"Why," is the out of breath question, coming from behind Jabberwock's massive form before Leo appears underneath one of the chain's wings, winded as if he's come half-across the mansion to interrupt them (highly likely, that), "is he here?"
Gil steps between them, in front of Oz on impulse, holding out his hands. "It's not what you think, Jack's been dormant for weeks."
It's hard to stand firm in the face of Jabberwock, harder still to keep it together when Leo looks like he'd like nothing better than to torture someone, and damned if his fucking headache isn't worse than ever. "There was something wrong with the seal at Pandora," he explains, hoping he can at least slow Leo down long enough to get him thinking clearly. "I used up all my power trying to fix it, but it didn't work, and I didn't know where else to take him except the dungons!"
"You're an idiot," comes Leo's shrill retort, and Jabberwock hisses in agreement, talons scraping with a sickening drag over the mansion's floor. "A complete idiot. That isn't Oz." He laughs, unable to stop himself at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. "God, Gilbert, maybe you really are fit for nobility. You think with your dick more often than not, just like the rest of them!"
"Rude," Jack sniffs, not bothering to hide the change in his voice that normally comes with his possession of Oz's form now. "To be fair, it took quite a bit of coercing."
Not Oz.
Not Oz.
That thought pierces through the throbbing ache in his head with all the clarity of a mule's kick, and just about as gentle. He tries to call Raven, but the chain is as sluggish and unresponsive as he feels, and he stumbles back against the carriage, hands pressed to his head. "No...no, there was something wrong, there's no way that was-"
Not Oz.
Every little tremble, gasp, touch-fake.
God, Gil, you're so perfect.
Fake.
The worst part is that this makes more sense than the lie had, and really, he should always have known.
"You seem upset," Jack mildly retorts, sighing as he stretches his arms, frowning down at the manacles binding them. "Really, if it makes you feel any better, Gilbert, you've grown up to be quite the catch."
Gil wants to take a swing at him, nearly does, except he's put Oz's body through enough abuse today, hasn't he?
The truth makes him sick, his stomach roiling as his head throbs, and it drives him to his knees, retching up everything he's eaten, coughing, trembling on the ground, wanting to deny what's happened, knowing he can't.
"Gilbert, get up-"
"Ah, and you, Glen," Jack purrs, his attention abruptly swiveling to Leo, his smile decidedly darker. "My, but you've gotten pretty in the past couple of years. I've already had one go at it today, but what sort of man would I be if I couldn't enjoy another, hm?"
A mix of anger and disgust flashes over Leo's face, though he clearly shifts backward, wavering where he stands within one of Jabberwock's half-folded wings. "That will be difficult for you to accomplish when you're in your cell once more."
"That isn't going to happen."
The first chain is nearly unavoidable, burying itself within one of Jabberwock's wings before the chain can avoid it, before B-Rabbit's looming shadow as much as appears at Jack's feet. The transference pain of it is enough of a shock to leave Leo reeling, choking on his own breath for a moment, a moment long enough to send another chain out, wrapped about his ankles to drag him down with a yelp.
The screech of grinding teeth and metal follows, bone of an otherworldly hardness crushing and chomping at the chains in question, and Leo uses that scarce moment to drag himself upward, clawing his way back to Jabberwock and subsequently, behind the looming form of Demios and one late arrival of another servant. "Vincent-"
"Gil, summon Raven," Vincent firmly snaps out, chest still heaving from the effort. "Master, stay back, you know B-Rabbit is specialized toward your destruction. This needn't be your fight."
Rarely, if ever, has Gil been so glad to see his little brother. The horror of Demios must be at least as terrifying to their enemy as to themselves. Gil feels it when Jack's attention wavers, moving from him to Vincent, because the sick pulsing in his head recedes a bit, letting him delve deeper than he thought possible into his own reserves.
Raven is a massive creature, the largest and most versatile chain of Glen Baskerville, and there's an eerie calm whenever he appears, looming over his contractor. Blue flames leap from his wingtips, advancing on Oz-no, Jack-from behind, as Gil shakily drags himself over to his master and his brother, drawing and loading his pistol.
There will be time for apologies and atonements later. Maybe, if Gil is very lucky, there won't be a later, but for now, all that matters is not letting Jack escape again.
"What a welcome," Jack sighs out, turning partially to keep an eye on Raven as B-Rabbit looms not as a shadow any longer, but as its full form, coiling its way around the man's form. "Really, I'd expect better from both of you boys."
Vincent sucks in a steadying breath, a hand reaching behind him to shove Leo back another pace. "Jack, you know you can't do this-"
"Why? Because then you won't get your wish?" His sharp green gaze lids as he focuses his attention only upon Vincent. "Do you want so badly to have never met me?"
"That isn't the point," is Vincent's quiet retort. "I want-"
"Don't you remember how I taught you how to play chess, Vincent?" Jack takes a step forward, watching Vincent's muscles twitch, the way the bones of Demios' form crack as its head turns to follow his movements. "You were always such a good student-such an obedient servant. What happened to you, to make you turn against me like this?" His lips twist, smile sad. "I think we both know who your true master is… and if you would just answer to that, you and Gilbert could still be together, with me-"
In the single moment that Vincent hesitates, a chain spirals its way around him, digging its speared end directly into Jabberwock's breast, bringing the chain to scream and thrash, and Leo to double over, vision swimming, breath knocked from his lungs. "Master-"
"Was that for me, or for him?" Jack idly inquires, and the chain twists, digging in deeper as Vincent's attention swivels to Leo, falling back enough to heft the duke up before his knees crumple beneath him, to coax Leo's arms about his neck as Demios lashes out, snapping its jaws at B-Rabbit's chains.
Maybe what hurts more than anything is seeing, with his own eyes, just exactly how obvious it is that the man they'd both idolized so much has not a single qualm. Gil feels it instinctively when Jabberwock is injured, when Leo collapses around Vincent's neck, and steps forward, training his gun on his old master.
He feels it the instant Jack's attention turns back to him, the thudding pulse almost driving him back to his knees. He stands his ground, no matter how his vision swims, no matter how Raven falters, the blue flames rising higher more on reflex than on Gil's orders.
A quick glance to the side isn't enough to reassure him of Leo's condition, and Gil's heart sinks. Vincent and Leo know as well as he does that the black-winged chains are vulnerable to Jack's power, uniquely vulnerable, making them uniquely useless. Demios is strong, but that's just one chain, and next to the B-Rabbit...
It's with a bellow of defiance that the flames part to admit a figure, white and blue and glowing in the dim hallway, leaping through to land with his sword extended, thrust out at Jack's neck, the White Knight standing tall.
For a moment, Jack merely blinks.
It's less surprise and more dealing with the sudden chaos within his head, courtesy of Oz's reeling cacophony of thoughts, and Jack's mouth twists, irritated, as his eyes fall upon Elliot with open disinterest.
"This is a little unorthodox, Glen. Making up for still not having Gryphon?"
"Don't-"
"Maybe if you ask nicely enough," Jack cheerfully interrupts. "Stop clinging to that failure of a servant and show a bit of respect toward your old friend."
When Leo makes no attempt to move-or rather, he does, and Vincent tightens his grasp, refusing to let the man approach-Jack merely shrugs, a finger crooking in a languid command obviously meant for B-Rabbit.
… which simply isn't heeded.
"Really," he dryly begins, blowing a sweaty strand of hair from his face.
I won't attack Elliot, I won't-
Any annoyed retort that Jack wants to form towards one obstinate plush doll is promptly cut off when Demios' talons slice into B-Rabbit, as swift and sharp as any execution. The pain is enough to send him reeling, the shock enough to make him retch, and Leo's snap over the thunder of his pulse-"Don't kill him, Elliot, just keep him there!"-nearly falls on deaf ears.
What a joke all of this is, Glen and his dumb luck.
His master's word is law.
Elliot bares his teeth, crystal sword flashing through a chain meant for his master as he moves, trusting in the power of his body, of his reflexes. Just like sparring, he remind himself, trying not to think of the man as Oz. It's hard enough knowing how outclassed he is, though it helps when Vincent attacks. Dimly, before he rests the edge of his blade at the pulse of Oz's throat-Jack's throat, it's not Oz, not his friend-he hears a shout from behind him, and ignores the sound.
It's Gilbert, grabbing Vincent's collar, hauling him up and off his feet as he shouts, "Let him go, you're killing him! Call Demios off!" The panic in his tone is obvious, pathetic, but it's nothing compared to the screams of the B-rabbit. "Elliot has him, call your chain off!"
It takes a moment before Gilbert's words click in, before that desperation, that fear that Jack could easily, so easily kill Leo and end all chances at having his wish granted fades. Vincent sucks in a hurried breath, some reflex bringing him to smack Gilbert's hand away, and with that brings Demios to withdraw, but only slightly, bones creaking and cracking. "Don't," he pants out, eyes wild, "stop me from protecting our master. Seal him or I'm not going to stop."
"Vincent, you're hurting me," Leo bites out at his side, and Vincent's arm loosens, albeit only marginally.
"Elliot, is it?" Jack meanwhile inquires, his next swallow careful, mindful of the chain's blade. "Or is your name something else now, as a chain? An interesting choice to bring back a pet-I wonder if Oswald ever used this ability," he muses.
Elliot's eyes narrow, and he steps forward, no matter that he keeps his blade steady at the man's throat. "I don't know who Oswald is, but I'm Elliot Nightray, the White Knight. You're the reason my family was looked down on for a hundred years," he spits, blue fire blazing around him, though the crystal sword doesn't move a fraction of an inch. "And on top of that, you're causing a hell of a lot of trouble for one of my best friends!"
Every step is a painful lurch as Gil hauls himself around behind Jack, clinging to Raven with each motion. "Hold that blade steady," he says quietly to Elliot. "Jack, if you don't let me seal you again, I'm going to shoot you in the legs. Oz will live, but you won't be going anywhere for a while."
He wraps one hand around, laying it on Jack's forehead, the movement so very familiar. "Your choice."
"… You'd like that, wouldn't you, Gilbert?" It's almost compulsive, the low purr that Jack tosses back to Gilbert. "No where for me-or Oz, rather-to run. What a perfect opportunity for you to make use of this body. Would it bother you more to know that he really is identical to me, especially now, at this age?"
Gilbert blazes with anger almost as brightly as the White Knight, the barrel of the pistol digging hard into the young man's back. God, but it's torture to have him so close, the heady scent of him still so fresh, knowing it had all been a lie, and he's a lot closer than he wants to be to shoving him forward onto the White Knight's blade. His voice is shaking, but his hand is steady as he grinds out, "Make up your mind. I can't hold Vincent back for much longer."
Jack merely smiles, sweet and bright and knowing exactly how well it mimics Oz. "Seal me," is his simple retort. "I'm sure you and Oz have quite a bit to discuss, anyway."
Maybe Gil will be lucky. Maybe sealing Jack again will kill him.
God, he hopes so.
It hurts to reach for the last of Raven's power, slamming it through his ungloved hand, using far more strength than finesse at this point and hardly caring. He locks the spirit down as hard as he can, throwing up shield after shield, trying to put in enough to make him stay down this time, knowing that ultimately, it'll be as fruitless as the last.
The last lock shuttering into place is the last thing he pictures before he collapses to the ground.
Elliot lets him fall, sword held steady at Oz's throat as he searches his old friend's face, looking for some sign, any sign that he is who he appears to be. "Master?" he calls, not looking over his shoulder. "How will we know?"
"Elliot, you're not dead-but how-"
"It's Oz," Leo wearily retorts, slumping within Vincent's hold before squeaking indignantly as adrenaline simply brings Vincent to scoop him up and toss him over his shoulder.
"Take this-I mean, please attend to our master," Vincent mutters, depositing Leo within Elliot's hold before he is fully ready to accept such a 'parcel.' "I need to tend to my brother, or we'll be facing this same thing all over again. Stay put," he flatly orders Oz, who makes to turn around and lurch towards Gilbert himself.
There's a moment when Elliot's not sure what the hell's going on, but that kind of thing is really all too common these days. The important things are clear, so he scrambles to accept his burden, carefully sheathing his sword as he tucks Leo into his arms. "I'm a chain," he says to Oz, and grins, willing to accept Leo's word for Oz being Oz. "I hear that's something we have in common now, eh, Shorty?"
"I'm not-" Well, it's around that point that Oz realizes for all the inches he might have grown, Elliot has trumped him once again. Oz growls, hands balling into fists. "You're not even fair. I'm taller than Leo still."
"Will you put me down? I'm not an invalid," Leo interrupts with a snort, wriggling his way out of Elliot's hold to land on his own two feet. He tries not to sway, no matter how he still feels winded and dizzy, and barely spares Oz a frown before glancing in Vincent's direction. "See to it that your brother actually remains in one piece. I'll take Oz to the dungeons myself."
Oz's face falls, his gaze flicking back towards Gilbert for a moment before he flushes hot and glances down. "… I'm really sorry… that all of this happened. I-"
"Save it."
"But-"
"The Vessalius family making my life a living hell is nothing new at this point."
Oz tries not to cringe, and fails miserably.
"Hey."
Elliot claps Oz on the back, obeying what he's pretty sure is an unspoken order and falling in between Oz and Leo. "You're not gonna give up, right? I mean, that wouldn't fix anything."
He can't help but watch Vincent out of the corner of his eye, tracing his movements as he bends over Gilbert, remembering just how Leo had been clinging to him, held in his brother's arms.
"… You really aren't any different, are you?" Oz curiously replies rather than outright answering, tilting his head up to watch Elliot through his bangs as they walk. "Other than being stupidly tall. And really handsome-and you're still such a good dresser-"
"Still likes you," Leo sighs underneath his breath, almost cracking a smile in spite of himself.
"Hey, blame Leo!" Elliot accuses, though it's Oz that he gives a shove to, refusing cut him any slack just because he's a chain, or handcuffed, or being led to a dungeon. "I was just a...I don't know, whatever I was in the Abyss, he's the one that went down and wished so hard I had to come back." He looks down at himself, shrugging. "I don't mind, though. Turned out for the best, didn't it?"
There might be a hint of a sly wink accompanying the last bit, for Leo's eyes alone.
"Weird," Oz huffs, as if his own circumstances are absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.
"Here we are," Leo interrupts, stepping aside after hauling open the heavy door. "Keep your sister company. You'll be escorted back to Pandora later."
"But-"
"Oz, do you really have to make this harder than it has to be?"
Sometimes, Leo can sound like a snippy old governess. Oz's head ducks as he steps inside, turning back around briefly to catch Elliot's gaze for a moment longer. "… Check on Gilbert for me, will you? He's-not going to be okay, whenever he wakes up."
That, more than anything he's seen sets alarm bells ringing in Elliot's head. It might just be Oz being overly concerned, but Elliot's known Gilbert for a damned long time, longer than Oz has, and he knows just how tough his big brother can be. "I'll check up on him," he promises, and claps Oz on the shoulder again. "Don't give up, Shorty. I'll come visit you again soon, chain to chain."
"Okay," is the quiet response, and Oz hopes it doesn't sound too small and pathetic as Leo heaves the door shut again, with the heavy turn of locks following.
Sleep is supposed to bring peace.
If not peace, then dreams.
If not dreams, then at least a brief, blessed surcease of the world, just for hours, minutes, seconds.
Gilbert's sleep brings none of that. He's no less tense, no less agonized than when his eyes had closed, when they finally open again. If anything, the memories are even fresher when he does claw his way into wakefulness.
Many times before, he's thought that everything hurt, upon waking. Now, he realizes how lucky he's been, all those times-stabbed, clawed, shot, beaten, thrown off cliffs, he's never woken up feeling like this, battered bloody and bruised from the inside. Even feeling Raven inside his head hurts, as if the chain has suffered as much as he has, though he really doubts that.
He doesn't need to look to see who's next to his bed. It could only have been one of two people, and this is the one he needs to get out of the way first.
Slowly, with every motion feeling like his bones are held together with long red-hot nails, Gil hauls himself into a seated position. He doesn't speak, head bowed, knees bent, shoulders drooping. He remembers Oz's smile, shaky and uncertain and eager, and tastes bile in his mouth.
"Lie back down, Gilbert."
Leo's voice is no less weary, as if he's been seated there for some time, catching little sleep himself no matter how he's fashioned himself something of a cocoon out of his cloak. The Nightray mansion is always cold-far too cold for his liking, and nothing he does seems to remedy this, no matter how many fires he lights or windows he closes.
"And tell me what happened, assuming your voice still works after all of that."
Gilbert does as he's told. He has no stomach for rebellion today, and no reason to bother getting up.
He remembers counting the cracks on the ceiling, during long days of being locked in his room as some "hilarious prank" by Ernest and Claude, seeing how long they could keep him and sometimes Vincent inside without food before the Duke noticed. He traces the cracks with his eyes now, noting the ones that have grown. Not much has changed.
"I went to Pandora," he says dully. "I got Ada her proof. I tried to put more power into the seal, but something went wrong. I tried to fix it. Jack...tricked me. I believed he was Oz. He manipulated me into bringing him here. That's all."
He coughs, though it doesn't help the odd rasping croak in his voice. "I don't really care what you do to me, Master. Kill me, cast me into the Abyss, whatever you like."
"… I'm not going to kill you," comes Leo's eventual sigh, and he leans forward, his chin atop his knees. "But you realize now, I hope, why I didn't want you to be around him so much. Jack… he doesn't care about you if you're in his way. The only thing he sees is his end goal."
"Yes, Master. I understand," Gil says flatly, staring at the ceiling. He tries not to be disappointed that Leo won't kill him. He fails.
"That being said," Leo lowly drawls, "if you keep acting like this, you aren't doing him any favors, either."
Gil starts to reach for a cigarette, then remembers he's out. Ah, well. That's fitting. "I very much doubt it matters." It's not like I'll ever be able to face him again.
Leo goes silent for a moment before he shifts, chair creaking beneath him. "All I am saying," he murmurs, "is that he is still alive, at the very least. He's the same Oz that you've always known. If you want him to stay that way, then you shouldn't act like you've already killed him." Another shift, and he sets a pack of cigarettes on the edge of the bed. "Vincent stole them. Something about them being unhealthy… you're a Baskerville, what's it matter?"
He's not the same, because I ruined him, Jack and I ruined everything he and I had. Gil slowly takes a cigarette, lighting it up, though it doesn't calm his nerves. His nerves aren't high-strung in any case. Everything is low, steady, an inch from stopping. "He won't want my help. If you have a job for me, make sure it keeps me away from him."
He doesn't quite keep his voice from catching on that sentence.
"As soon as you're able, you can escort him back to Pandora," Leo replies instead, slowly rising to his feet and huddling himself deeper into his cloak at the same time. "You're the only one that can, after all."
Gil doesn't answer. All he can think is whether he'll be able to lay the proper seal and endure the whole carriage ride without meeting Oz's eyes, because he's sure he won't be able to.
Finally, he croaks, "Tomorrow. I'd do it tonight, but Jack...he damaged my connection with Raven. I'm fixing it."
A shrug follows. "Take your time. He seems to be making Elliot a bit happier, anyway." Leo hesitates, rocking on his heels for a moment. "Gilbert… the reason I'm not just taking Raven from you and dealing with this myself is because-well. I don't really know-" Yes I do, it's because I'm hoping you won't screw up like I did and also because there's some Glen in my damned head that likes you and even if you're so incompetent that I want to kill you at times I just can't. "But just… don't mess up again."
If Leo's looking for gratitude for not giving Gilbert the death sentence, he's going to be sorely disappointed. Gil just crushes his cigarette out, going back to staring at the ceiling. "As you wish, Master."
And before Leo leaves, a perfect miniature of Jabberwock rears its head, snapping its jaws into one of the sheets beneath Gilbert to promptly yank it-and subsequently Gilbert-off of the bed. "Also," Leo cheerfully offers upon exit, "stop moping and don't forget about my dress."