Mable: This isn't quite the sequel I was intending to A Fool's Paradise originally, but here we are! And what goes up must come down…

…

Paradise in Ruins

…

When Luigi woke up, he was hit with a pounding headache and what felt like the weight of the world crushing his weakened body. Then almost immediately afterwards he was hit with the weight of what he had done.

His eyes shot open and with a shaky breath he stared out at a groggy grey morning. Thunder rolling overhead and rain drizzling down on his body. His cheek pressed into the dirt and his nose filled with the scent of it. He pushed himself up onto his hands, then rested on his folded arms.

He had failed. Mario had won.

Oh Stars, how did those two facts stop being one in the same?

Well, he knew how. He remembered everything except for the blurriness of what transpired. He remembered he made a deal with the devil- no, not the devil. Dimentio. Even though one might say they could be interchanged, Luigi knew a silver-tongued fool was a far cry from hades himself.

Hades wouldn't have been gunning for the whole world.

What had he been thinking?

Admittedly, not of ending the world. He was thinking of frustrations and being used and forgotten. Of sitting squarely in Mario's shadow and loving Mario, but not loving that place he had fallen into. Laughingstock Luigi the failure of a little brother who was only worth anything when he was the bane of his existence, Mr. L. Of a smooth-talking clown who told him how valuable he was and for a second he actually believed it. What a sad and pitiful thought.

For what? To get the power to create a new world. Did he want that? No. He just wanted to stop Bleck and show his brother he was just as important as him. Or show the world he was.

Well, not quite. It was a cry for help, he could accept that now, but he should've known it was going to go bad long before he blacked out and Dimentio took over.

Speaking of which…

"Dimentio?"

Luigi sat up and turned over into a sit, looking around at where he was. He vaguely remembered pieces of the battle, so he knew it hadn't taken place here. This was somewhere in the Mushroom Kingdom. He must've gotten dumped here after the fact.

"D-Dimentio!" Luigi called through cupped hands. There was no sign of the jester.

He wasn't sure why he cared. It was obvious that Dimentio had just used him. He played him like a fiddle and the plan failed and now he was left to pick up the pieces.

His words had sounded so real. Luigi hugged himself at the thought of giving up his own brother for sugary words.

Then he began to push himself to his feet. His legs were wobbly and wanted to fail instantly, but somehow, he stood on them and then he mustered the first step. Which turned into a tilted teeter as he looked around for any sign of Dimentio. He should've been able to spot that sparkly brightly colored ensemble anywhere, especially in the dreary fog of whatever time of day this was.

Yet there was nothing. Had Dimentio gotten dumped somewhere else? Had he dumped him and split?

…Was Dimentio… gone?

He had said something like, "It will be a show to die for." What a coincidence if Dimentio was the one to…

That should've filled Luigi with some sort of relief, but it didn't. It just opened that sucking wound in his chest a little further. Dimentio was a liar and a charlatan, and one who hid neither. He didn't even know what he saw in the jester beyond his flowery words and his foolish rhymes, and that overbearing smell of cinnamon, how he laughed like silk.

Unfortunately, those feelings apparently didn't die with Dimentio. If the sudden pang in his heart at the thought was any indication. Now he was truly alone.

He couldn't go home. Chances were that Mario was looking for him. It hurt Luigi to think that likely Mario didn't know of his betrayal. Or worse, if he did know he would probably forgive Luigi. He was just that good of a person. They were just that close. Luigi swallowed heavily and accepted the fact that he couldn't face him right now, or likely ever, so wracked with grief and soreness he walked to make his bearings of where he was and then went in a different direction.

His leg was sore, a big section of his ribs hurt, he probably had a black eye, and he was so worn out on a spiritual level that he would probably sleep for a week. He was waterlogged too from the rain. He needed a place to hide, and thankfully he knew of one, and he walked all the way to his house.

Now, this house was not the one Mario and he shared, but the one he had earned from Professor E. Gadd after a run-in with a mansion full of ghosts. It was more akin to a summer house. A place he stayed when Mario was off on an adventure and he didn't want to hang around Toad Town. A place where he could curl up with a good book and just soak in the warmth of a roaring fire and a cup of warm tea.

Now it was where he could hide away like he was on the lam. He supposed he was. Even if Mario and everyone thought he had been under Dimentio's spell- he kind of was, but a different spell- he was still guilty. That weighed on his conscious the long walk to the house, the tiny mansion hidden out of the way.

He stumbled inside and closed the door behind him, and then fell back against it. Rain dripping off him onto the welcome mat. He let in a shuddery breath and shivered. The house was cold, he was freezing, soaked, some of his clothes were torn and burned. He limped into the living room to get a fire going. Hesitating to turn and shut the curtains before daring to do so, blocking out the gloomy grey sky.

Almost fitting for it to be positively dreary out on the day of his biggest failure. He failed in every concept of the idea. Every facet. Save with making the fire, he was still able to do that and still had logs and newspapers left there for the next time he would come home. He might've never expected under these circumstances, but he thanked his past self for being well prepared.

He held his hands in front of the fire for a few seconds to try and warm them. They were shaking and he stared at them blankly before pushing him to his feet, wincing at his leg, and looked around at the living room. He felt lost and alone. He knew what he probably needed to do- he needed to clean his wounds, he needed to change, he needed to sit down- but he didn't have any motivation to do anything but stand there and let it soak in, just like the water in his clothes.

He finally limped over to the doorway leading into the hall before stopping in it and leaning against it. He stared into the dim light in the hall, alit by a single tiny window letting in grey sky. It smelled stuffy in here. It felt depressing and empty.

He sighed and reached up to adjust his hat, only to realize it wasn't there. With a more frustrated sigh, he dropped his hand down to cover his eyes with exasperation. A shaky inhale and then a choking exhale, followed by a couple of weak sobs.

Luigi had never felt so alone in his life.

"I must admit, that might've not gone according to plan."

Luigi shrieked and spun around so fast his head nearly spun. His eyes popped open at the sight of someone sunken into his armchair who wasn't there before.

It was Dimentio. He wasn't sure where the jester had come from or how he got in, but he was currently relaxed in his armchair.

His notoriously squeaky armchair that had somehow been dead silent when Dimentio got into it.

"In fact, I cannot imagine that going any farther from plan. Oh, the beginning lined up so well, but the end was not the intended one I had in mind. Like a line of dominoes with a gap just too wide to bridge, such an unsatisfying ending," Dimentio lamented. Yet he still held a relatively neutral smile and while his voice was more hushed than usual, he didn't sound quite that upset.

Luigi went through a slew of emotions. Shock and then relief, nearly joy, before plummeting to confusion, and then switching to anger. White hot anger and embarrassment at him grieving someone who might've been following him around without saying anything. Though that was the least of what he should've been angry at considering everything else going on.

"YOU!"

"Yes, it is I. Your beloved."

"Don't you mock me!" Luigi scolded. A flush threatening to spread on his cheeks, though more out of anger than embarrassment. "What was that?! What happened back there?!"

"Perhaps you hit your head during our duel to the bitter end. No need to trouble yourself remembering, I had a front row seat. We had, how should I say it? Our backends handed to us."

"That's what you call it?!" Dimentio started to continue when Luigi cut him off. "Because what I remember was you saying we were going in as a team and the next thing I know, I have NO control of my body AGAIN and I'm like… in some kind of… dinosaur thing?!"

"Oh ho ho! Luigi, you are such a gooood-." Dimentio paused with a thick gulp and finished with a breathy, "Distraction."

Luigi was going to be offended by that, but then suddenly he noticed something was off. If the gulp wasn't any indication, it was the way the jester was reclined on his armchair. His head slowly sliding into the corner of it until he looked more limp than relaxed.

"Uh… Dimentio?"

"Hmm hmm hmm hmm! Mmm-hmm?"

"You're looking a little… funny," Luigi said warily.

"Oh, us fools usually do.~ But I'm afraid I feel a bit, mmm, drained right now."

Luigi assumed he meant his powers until Dimentio raised a dark gloved hand.

It was stained in a glossy silver liquid.

Luigi's blood ran cold when he realized that it was, well, blood.

Throwing everything aside, Luigi raced over to get a better look and realized that Dimentio was spotted with the stuff. His costume crinkled up and sticky with little pools of his mercury-colored blood. It was in his lap and down his side. He smelled of it too.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?!" Luigi choked out. All the anger was cast aside at the seriousness of the situation. After a moment of panic, he reached down for him. "We've gotta get you to a doctor!"

Dimentio gave a slow chuckle of amusement and willingly stood up into his arms before all but falling forward and collapsing into a heap that caused Luigi to stagger. Him getting a good view of the amount of silver that was stained across the armchair before suddenly being pulled away. The jester was swaying on his feet, clasping his hands onto Luigi and yanking him into a stumble, into either a clumsy dance or a very dramatic fall.

"Dance the danse macabre with me, mi amor," Dimentio slurred. His voice weakening and him gulping in air with the effort of his movements. He wasn't just being difficult; he was completely out of it.

"I don't know what that means. Dimentio, stop! You're getting delusional!" Luigi pleaded.

He finally stopped him by firmly grabbing his shoulders, only to have the jester's hands suddenly drop on his own in return. So suddenly that he nearly jumped, especially once the jester pulled him close and leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching.

"Let me be a little more clear: it's game over for me. I'm dying," he announced. His tone now much more direct but still holding an edge of cryptic amusement. "All of my magic drips forth and pools on your floor. Such a pity."

Luigi felt his stomach churn with anxiety. He yanked Dimentio's hands off and hooked an arm under his shoulders.

"Okay, that's it. We're getting you into bed. Then we'll get you help," Luigi said. Normally getting help first would've been the smartest decision, but right now he needed Dimentio off his feet before he could think.

"Yes, yes. Help me into my deathbed, Luigi," Dimentio mockingly requested.

"Stop that! You're- You're not helping," Luigi scolded.

He was rewarded with a slippery slurred laugh and took the opportunity to get Dimentio into the hallway, up the stairs, and towards the bedroom. By the end there was so much silver over them both.

The bedroom was small but comfortable with a nicely quilted double bed that would no doubt have all its bedding ruined in a few short minutes, but Luigi didn't care much. He had to maneuver Dimentio to sit down and watched his head lull around like it was barely attached to his body before he willingly flopped back onto the pillow and let Luigi drag the rest of him up. His limbs spread akimbo on the bedspread, looking the closest he ever had to comedic.

Luigi had to lift and move layers of colorful fabric before he spotted the wound in question. It was an especially deep gash stretching from his side to his back. It wasn't his only wound by far, but it was the one bleeding the worse. There was a pattern of bruises and scratches that stood out in odd patterns on his monochrome skin. It could've been painted and framed in an art museum with how abstract it looked, but the problem again was the amount of blood.

He couldn't call for help. He couldn't ask for Mario's help, not to help a criminal of Dimentio's caliber. He couldn't think of any doctor who wouldn't immediately rat him out to Mario and Peach either. His best bet would maybe be E. Gadd, but even that was more of a desperate last-ditch attempt for help more than a real plan. For now, he could only work to stem the bleeding.

"Wait right here! Don't move!" Luigi cried. Then he raced off.

Thankfully, Dimentio obeyed. Though with how out of it he was, it could've also been that Dimentio was just too weak to move. Having wasted his last bit of energy on their teetering tango.

Luigi dug through his first aid kit and found some bandages, some antibiotic paste, and a little bit of peroxide. Not nearly enough to stop someone from bleeding out, but it was better than nothing. At least until he could get ahold of something better. He all but sprinted back into the bedroom and started trying to wrap the wound. It kept bleeding. He applied pressure and held it, waiting to see if it would slow down, heart racing a mile a minute.

"Were you crying for me or you?" Dimentio suddenly asked out of the blue.

"What?" Luigi asked in surprise. Dimentio simply hummed questioningly, and after a few seconds Luigi answered. "Oh… For both of us I guess."

"Honest," the jester complimented.

Luigi tightened his jaw and tried to focus on his work, but the way Dimentio was talking- it did genuinely sound like he was planning on dying on him. Right here, right now, in his bed.

And despite the nightmare this stupid teamwork with this fool had put him through, the idea of watching him die scared him more than anything else.

"Can you… Can you heal yourself? Y'know, like use magic or something?" Luigi asked.

"It's too late for that. I lose a drip more with every drop. Almost empty."

"Oh, right. The uh… leaking magic thing," Luigi said awkwardly.

"Slow the flow but never stop the ticking clock. Drip, drip, drop."

Dimentio was speaking nonsense, Luigi told himself as that anxiety ramped back up at the obvious implications of the end of the road. Game over. A one-way ticket to out of his house and into the cold empty afterwards.

Luigi's train of thought wasn't helping. Neither was the amount of silver.

He reached up with the hand that wasn't applying pressure and petted over Dimentio's headdress, his jester cap. He didn't even consider the implications or think about doing it, he just did and didn't notice he had until Dimentio shifted and sighed and coughed.

Even in the throes of a massive injury Dimentio was hard to read.

Or he was until he reached up and clasped his hand onto Luigi's, holding it there upon his head before dragging it down to his masked face. Keeping it pinned to him. Luigi couldn't tell if it was some sort of affection or a means to toy with him anymore, but Dimentio refused to let up that grip for the longest time. He sat there over him and felt his heart continue to pound.

This was worse than waking up alone. This was way worse than assuming Dimentio poofed away when he wasn't looking. He didn't want this to happen.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he began to hum anxiously and look around his room for a distraction. Not much to look at. Pictures of him and Mario- the absolute worst thing to look at- and a dreary world through a window opposite the bed.

It felt much too quiet. His head was also killing him, he realized as he was stuck frozen in place. Unable to do so much as scratch his ear least the fool beneath him spew silver across his bedspread. The metal image immediately making him dizzy.

Oh Stars, he really was stuck to this guy. Maybe it would've been better if he didn't make it.

…That was a joke. Even in his own internal dialogue, it left such a bad taste in Luigi's mouth that he had to clarify it was a joke. It was a joke. He was going to make it. He was going to make it, probably leave, and then Luigi would spend the rest of his life trying to make up to Mario and the rest of the Mushroom Kingdom for his terrible mistake. People who made unintentionally hurtful comments about his uselessness would now relish in speaking out about Mario's awful, jealous younger brother who betrayed him.

That was, if Mario and the rest of the Mushroom Kingdom even took him back. Mario might, being his loving older brother, but he might've just become enemy number one to everyone else depending on what exactly happened.

His eyes were burning with stress. He blinked back the tears. He had to stay focused, he had someone's life in his hands.

A life that was quickly slipping away.

…

…

"This is all terribly depressing. I assumed I would be done by now," Dimentio lamented. Pouting as though he was in the middle of weeding a garden and not this. "This was all very pleasant up until you began leaning all your weight on my mortal wound."

Luigi almost snapped at him to stop it again before reconsidering.

"If talking keeps him awake, then better keep him talking," Luigi considered.

"Would you like to hear a joke?" Dimentio slurred.

"It better not be about you bleeding or anything," Luigi murmured.

"I try to not tell the same joke twice," the jester remarked. He released his hand and rolled his head loosely so he could look up at Luigi. "A count walks into tavern of vagabonds and ne'er-do-wells searching for a soul up to the task of being his follower. He looks through the largest of men with the mightiest of builds, all willing to sell out their own mother for a sniff of gold, and… He walks out with me! Ah ha ha-hck!"

Dimentio coughed bitterly and swallows something thick. "Although he did turn me away, amusingly. I would not tell him my sad tale, so he would not give me a chance! Eventually he convinced himself I was of value and let me in on his plans."

"That's how you met Count Bleck?" Luigi asked in surprise.

"Something along those lines, yes. Perhaps I took some creative liberties, like- like a bored librarian with a…" Dimentio trailed off, suddenly disinterested in whatever he was saying.

"…With a?" Luigi coaxed. Dimentio hummed weakly, his breathing labored, making up for his previous talking. "Come on. Stay with me."

Dimentio gave a weak and dry laugh, almost mocking and almost bitter, as though laughing at Luigi's feeble attempts to keep him alive. Luigi looked down; brows furrowed as though offended though much more embarrassed than anything else. Showing even that much vulnerability was like falling for the same ruse twice.

"And how long until Mister Hero arrives? The passion-colored stout-limbed hero of destiny?" Dimentio asked both challengingly and wearily.

The thought turned Luigi's stomach just as fast as the coppery smell had.

"Well… I-It depends. If he doesn't know I'm back in the Mushroom Kingdom, he might be searching all over for me. If he somehow figures out I'm here, it might not take him too long to pin us down. There's not that many places to look. In fact, this is probably spot number three, so… could show up… If he's even looking," Luigi finished in a hushed whisper.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Luigi's eyes went to the window. The rain was picking up; the tapping against the window increasing into a steadier patter. Maybe a raging storm would help keep any searchers at bay for now, but it was miserable weather.

"You haven't put a call out to him? Color me surprised. I assumed you would go right back to him, like a loyal dog to a pesky owner." Luigi's face scrunched up in offense. "And I say that in the most respectful way, of course."

"Yeah, sure," Luigi sighed. His face softening, mostly with guilt. "…Maybe someday, but I can't go back to him now… I can't." He shook his head somberly.

"…Wait… You really haven't told him?"

"When would I have had the chance? I've been sitting here trying to slow down this bleeding ever since you showed up," Luigi defended. He dared to turn to look at Dimentio, almost with indignation, only to notice something had changed.

Since the moment he appeared in the living room, Dimentio had been smiling. With that small only wavering or faltering while coughing or choking during his anecdotes. That wasn't to say that Luigi had never seen Dimentio frown, he just couldn't remember having done so. Maybe Mr. L had seen it, but for him it was that ever present smile.

But Dimentio wasn't smiling now. His mouth slack and his eyes just slightly wider than usual. He looked… surprised. Genuinely surprised, not just saying he was. It was a weird look to see on his face. It felt unreal.

It had to be a trick. Luigi stared back blankly waiting for the punchline. To which Dimentio eventually responded.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this-." A corner of his mouth lifted more in a grimace than a proper smile. Perhaps a bitter smile. "But the answer to all your problems lies before you. If you turn me in- or that is, attempt to- those empty-headed heroes will believe in a heartbeat that none of this was your own volition and bring you back into their fold like the lost sheep you are."

"They're not empty-headed! They just believe in me, they love me," Luigi defended. His features softened with remorse. "…And I turned my back on them."

"Oh Luigi, it was never your choice. You were willing, yes, but I was the one who planted those seeds in your head," Dimentio corrected. His eyes shifted a little as though studying the man's face. "It's guilt. Hmm, I've never had much of that. I do only what comes naturally to me. I was born for this purpose, but you? You just strayed from your path. Again, like a sheep. You don't blame the sheep for losing its way, you blame the wolf whose belly it's found in."

"I'm not a- What are you doing?" Luigi finally snapped. His gaze narrowed on the jester. "I can tell you're up to something, but I don't know what. Do you want me to turn you in? Do you want me to let you just… I don't know what the goal is except to mess with me and frankly, I don't like it, okay? So, can you just stop?"

This time he watched Dimentio's expression fade. He watched that grimace slip from his mouth and that stare become more vacant. He looked exhausted- hard to tell with the mask face, but he looked exceptionally tired- but he also looked just as fed up as Luigi.

Finally, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown.

"…I don't understand."

His voice was hollow. Humorless.

"I don't understand you," Dimentio reiterated. "You may be gullible, but you are not an idiot. I can tell. Just from the fact that you know there is a chance your friends won't so easily forgive that you are not nearly as naïve as any of them. Just from how you had at me the moment you saw me, you know that we were not so partners as we were master and servant, and yet here you are! Here you are, you- for some reason you still do this? I suppose you hit your head harder than I thought, hmm? Let me remind you again, let me tell you- our plan failed. My plan is over. Our chance vanquished. And I understand how good you might be or how good you say you are, but I don't understand- I simply cannot understand-!"

He caught himself and his steadily growing voice, rewarding himself with a heavy gulp of air, and then managed to rein himself in. Then he continued with a much more even tone of voice.

"So, why do you still hold on? To me, to this partnership of ours? You must know by now that you and I were a means to an end."

"Oh, I know that. I knew that the second I turned into some kind of jack-in-the-box of doom. I KNEW you were using me," Luigi interjected. "And you're one to talk! Why'd you follow me home, huh? Or better yet, how'd we even get here? Did we just magically somehow wind up in the Mushroom Kingdom when there's all those worlds out there that we could've dropped into?"

Dimentio was rendered silent. Luigi knew he had him, that he had won. Though the feeling of victory was short-lived.

"…And you know what I think?... I think this is the most honest you've ever been with anyone in your whole life. No pretty words or shmoozy little things like that. You just don't understand, do you?" Luigi quietly asked.

"No, I don't," Dimentio replied. His voice vacant once more.

"Yeah, well… That makes two of us…" Luigi grumbled. He finally mustered up the nerve to look away.

He looked down at the blankets, at the jester's weird booties, at the wall, anywhere except back at his face. Slowly looking further away when he noticed those eyes watching him from the edge of his vision.

Dimentio was still watching him. Likely still confused to Luigi's motives, as if they were complicated at all. Sure, Luigi didn't get them, but one could've easily labelled this as human decency- to stop someone from dying. Dimentio not only seemed unsatisfied with this answer, but he also almost seemed upset. It was the first time the jester had been downright offended, and it all stemmed from what? Luigi not telling Mario he was here? Luigi stopping him from dying? He seemed more than happy with bleeding out a while ago.

It had to be something more than that. Maybe Dimentio thought that Luigi was trying to gain his trust and sympathy? That Luigi was only helping him to try and win him over, which was a good idea in hindsight but not one Luigi expected to work. He just kept asking why.

Was Dimentio just that unfamiliar with kindness? Or was this Luigi helping Dimentio's ruse by buying into a tragic backstory?

This could all be yet another ploy. After all, for someone who was delusional when he half-dragged him into this bedroom, Dimentio seemed awful lucid now.

On the back of this new revelation Luigi got his nerve back and turned to confront Dimentio once again.

Only to turn his cheek into Dimentio's awaiting hand.

Luigi flinched back in surprise at the suddenness of it and send the jester a startled and questioning look. Dimentio stared back with a solemn and eerily melancholy look. That and the pervading silent caused Luigi's heart to sink. The mood of the room changed instantly.

After a long second of staring, Dimentio began to reach for him again. This time Luigi didn't pull back, if only to stand his ground and prove that he wasn't afraid. Any thoughts like those being drowned out by the warm palm cupping his cheek. It was unexpectedly gentle.

Once it became clear that Luigi wasn't going to wrench his hand away or even draw back again, Dimentio's smile returned. Though it was weaker than it had been. His eyes lidded with weariness and starting to look sunken in even with the circumstances of the mask. They were certainly losing their luster. Dulled in color and in vigor, just like his deflated smile.

His gloved fingers brushed back at Luigi's hair, and he inhaled sharply in response. He could feel his face heating up from the tingling touch alone, despite himself. A humorless chuckle rumbled through Dimentio's chest, and his eyes slid further closed.

"Either I brought you with me to witness my final moments," Dimentio drew out. His thumb slowly tracing the ring of Luigi's black eye. "Or I kept you with me because I didn't want them to have you."

Luigi was surprised that he answered at all. The way his brows shot up towards his hairline provoked a light laugh out of the jester. It gurgled in his throat, gargling on nothing good.

"I guess… Thanks for not leaving me," Luigi replied. The words seemed to hold a heavy double-meaning that only Luigi could feel. He took a small breath before adding, "Think you might, uh… stick around a little longer?"

Dimentio hummed as though considering it. His gloved thumb now slowly flicking at the tip of his mustache pensively. His hand weighting harder on Luigi's cheek, his arm- Luigi couldn't see an arm but he felt shoulders so assumed there was one- likely tiring.

"Maybe I will. But only if it's an inconvenience to you," he replied in a weak jest.

"Good," Luigi replied with quiet finality.

"Like a crying infant at a family wedding. Impossible to ignore, impossible to get rid of without reflecting badly on you, totally helpless. Like a rusty nail buried in a new tire."

"…How's a nail helpless?" Luigi asked in almost disbelief.

Dimentio chuckled and patted his cheek before withdrawing his hand and dropping it onto the bed beside him. He was starting to look more tired, if not obvious when his head slumped on the pillow.

"Wake me when Mr. Maraschino arrives," he requested.

"I'll try, but unless he's flying outside the window, I'm not gonna see him," Luigi remarked.

Something about that comment, or general delirium, made Dimentio laugh a little more honestly.

"Oh, that was good. You are very entertaining," he complimented. Then he promptly fainted.

Luigi stared at him a long moment before the panic suddenly sunk in. Using his free hand, he shook Dimentio's shoulder. "Dimentio?"

The jester gave a dismissive hum. Alive then, just exhausted. Luigi fell back onto his knees with a sigh before looking down at his hand still holding the wound.

Carefully he removed it and tried to check it as best as he could. The blood had leaked through the gauze but seemed to have either slowed down or stopped. He could remove the saturated gauze to see out of risk of stirring up the bleeding again. Later he would have to, definitely but for now he started to put fresh gauze atop it and wrap the wound, somehow able to maneuver with the limp body of the jester.

It wasn't until he finished and was looking at his work- and knowing that he would have to figure out something better later- that it suddenly all sunk in for Luigi. There was going to be a later. Once again, he was in for the long haul.

Once again, he was wrapped into some crazy scheme with Dimentio. In this case, he was effectively a wanted criminal hiding out from his brother and friends, and everyone else, and harboring another fugitive who was definitely wanted for war crimes.

He licked his dried-out lips and tasted grit, no doubt from the dirt he woke up on. His head was sore, and his side was hurting now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Luigi felt downright awful.

…But Dimentio was alive.

It was as though a huge weight was lifted off his chest as his whole body slumped into itself. Dimentio was alive for the moment and of all the things Luigi couldn't do, keeping him alive was the one thing he would.

A tiny voice crept up in his head to remind him rightly that he couldn't trust Dimentio. That the whole reason they were here was because of Dimentio's scheme, one he had blatantly admitted to.

Then again, the whole reason Luigi was here, in the Mushroom Kingdom and not floating off in a void somewhere, was because Dimentio brought him here. He still couldn't figure out if that meant something more or if he was just still a useful tool.

A devil and an angel sat on his shoulder, and he wasn't sure which was telling him to have hope, and which was warning him to not trust too deeply. This was way too much to be dealing with when he could've very well had a concussion.

Yet he couldn't help but feel like for the briefest of a moment, he had seen through a disguise. Not just the disguise Dimentio painted on to fool him, Bleck, and likely countless others, but another disguise hiding underneath that. Like he had peeled back all that gaudy clown fluff and found a real person staring back at him. Sure, he was swallowed back up under that mask, but Luigi knew what he saw. He knew he hadn't imagined it.

Or maybe he just really, really wanted something to be there. Maybe that was true too, to protect him from falling for another dirty trick, but he had a hunch that maybe he was onto something.

He looked over at Dimentio's mask and his relaxed features. Vacant of a smile once more. It was still pretty weird to see but, in a way, it was eye-opening to see him look so natural. After a long moment of staring at him, Luigi gave into temptation once more. He reached out for his shoulder again and gently rubbed over it before resting his hand there. The warmth was welcomed.

Well, if there was anything there worth finding odds are he was going to find it eventually. Because it was looking like they were going to be working together for a lot longer.

For now, Luigi stared out at the dreary day with a mood that matched it.

He was lucky to be alive. He was lucky Dimentio survived.

…

But he was missing Mario already.