“It's nothing special, come along.” He took Rugir’s hand and, slowly, led him to the kitchen and set him down on a stool on the corner. “This is still new to me, father and I used to have people do this sort of thing for us, but now I do it all myself.” He got to work on the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, showing Rugir what he did when Rugir was asleep or when he was between assignments and recovering from assignments. It was a nasty business, working. So he did the chores that he would normally do and he made them lunch and he gave Rugir his medicine. It was just drops now, mixed into his tea, instead of the tonics. The whole thing only took half of an hour and the eating didn’t even take that long again. 

He worked on a puzzle that had been packed away just before going to gather Rugir from the hospital and he caught upon his mail and the newspaper. He played some music on the oversized radio. He tried not to do anything that actually turned into his actual work. 

There was a hand on his arm and he stopped to look at Rugir, to see his twin watching him so ardently, even with bags under his eyes. 

“Happy?” 

Vivian put his hand on Rugir’s cheek, leaning in, forehead to forehead. He thought of the past few weeks, how stressful it had been to take care of Rugir, how much better he could be doing. But he thought of the misery of being alone, settling their father’s affairs, working himself until he was shaking and unable to tell present from future, how it was before he had his twin with him. 

“I’m happier now, with you here, no matter what challenges it brings me.” 

Rugir looked him over, eyes still a bit glassy, but he was more present than before, he was more real, more solid. He was thinking for himself and the thoughts came slowly but they settled and they mattered. Rugir was becoming human again. He licked his lips, the bitten red raspberry of them. 

Rugir pressed forward and Vivian thought that he was falling at first but he wasn’t, he was sliding into Vivian, pressing their lips together, soft and warm and alive. His eyes were closed and there was adoration in his mouth. It was the same sort of kiss that Vivian gave his cheeks, temple, and brow, but there was more to it too, a desperation, a need to reciprocate. 

When Vivian opened his mouth, kissed back, beautiful raspberry lips on beautiful raspberry lips, Rugir moaned, a little soft note, hardly more than a sigh. He could not grip Vivian but his hands were in Vivian’s jacket and he was leaning against a chest within which beat the same blood. 

They were twins, they were brothers, this was wrong, this was disgusting. What a perfect boy, who could want to hurt him? Who could deny Rugir anything? He was so soft and lovely and kind, always had been, his strangeness as a child only adding to his allure. Vivian had wanted to protect him from everything then and that was just as true now. He leaned into the kiss, hand tangling in Rugir’s hair. 

And then he was struck with logic, with understanding, and he pulled away almost violently. 

“We can’t do this,” Vivian demanded, “Do you understand what you’re doing?” 

Rugir was sick, wasn’t all the way there, mentally, the drugs were there for mental illnesses that may or may not have existed. He couldn’t be trusted with decisions like this, not yet. He was a child who had been hurt so terribly. 

Rugir’s eyes were red, wet, spilling. He was so pretty when he cried, the tip of his nose turning pink, his eyelashes clumping together and looking so thick. It made Vivian want to kiss him again, kiss those tears away. He bites his lip, not just biting but chewing, making it all the more red. 

“Do you know who I am?” Vivian asked. 

And the expression on Rugir’s face told him everything that he needed to know. His eyes went wide and, still crying, he stared at Vivian, trying to understand, to make sense of his features. Surely Vivian’s name had been said in front of him but that didn’t matter, not when Rugir may not have heard it or remembered it through the drugs that he was on. He could not be blamed for this, especially with what he had been forced to do. 

“My name is Vivian Tiepo. I’m your twin brother,” he explained, putting his hands on Rugir’s shoulders, keeping those striking eyes on him. 

“Brother…” Rugir all but murmured it, and then there was a little smile, just for a moment, as he looked at Vivian, astonished. “Vivian…” 

“Yes, Darling, I’m your brother. This is our home.” 

The smile shifted to wonder. What a wonderful thing. 

“Vivian.”

Someone had touched hi.m, Mo.ther Mother, no. not Mother, Mother. was far. away, not dead. but he. was, sh.e had left him. to di.e, had sold. him away, ha.d traded him. She want.ed to be. rid of him. He was. a broken. toy. and she. had sold h.is body in. order. to p.ay off. strangers. to take him. away, to put even. more drugs in. hi.m than she. had. She had wanted. him to be bett.er and there. was no getting. better, the do.ctors had. just m.ade him nothing. instead. A brain. dead lit.t.le. doll to be moved. arou.nd as they. wanted.

A woma.n had. touched him and. he thou.ght that, maybe, he. was ba.ck there, just. back enough. His. throat hu.rt. His eyes. burned. The boy held. him though. and that was good, that was. alright, he did not know. why that was alright. 

They left the ga.rden, the boy carried him. to bed, they ate there. He. was sick, just a little. bit, and the. boy. was proud. of how much he kept. down. He was allowed to cry. as much as. he needed to. H.e was allowed. to whimper when the. boy moved away. from him. and then allowed his. company for lo.nger, to be held. and pet, his. hair finger combed. The boy. took such good. care of him. 

“Oh my Lily, don’t be afraid, I’m here. I’m here. I’m so sorry.” He did not. know what he was apologizing. for. 

He felt th.at he. too should apolo.gize. He clung. to the boy and th.e boy. held him and he f.elt like, maybe, the boy. loved him too. 

There was. a hand on his face, a. thumb under his eye, wiping. over his cheekbone. The boy’s face was. handsome and strong, pale skin, raspberry. lips, a strong jaw, and bright blue. eyes. His hair was cropped. short and. it was almost. black. He w.as s.trong. and lov.ely and he looke.d at. him as. if he was. the more impre.ssive. of the two. 

He wanted. to speak. to him. he wanted. to kiss him. he wanted. this beautiful. boy to. stop looking. so sad. He wanted. to help. him too. 

“You don’t need to speak,” the boy said, “Just relax, just heal, please, I have you.” 

There was a bag in the hall. Vivian sighed, looking at it. He had taken up all of the bags left behind in the garden and put their contents into the refrigerator. He’d had some of the casserole, Marietta was a good cook. But this was not a bag that held food, not food for humans anyway. 

He did not want to interact with the bone but he did not want it to be there in the hall. He picked up the bag by the handles and he did not look inside and he set it in what would have been the smoking room if they had any need to smoke. The bag reeked, as much of rancid blood as it did saliva. He was curious, that was true, but he would not let himself fall for it. 

Rugir was standing in the doorway, watching him. Vivian hadn’t heard him. He was so light, so thin, and he wavered, standing in his nightgown like a ghost. He wasn’t looking at the room. He was looking at Vivian. 

“This room is off limits,” Vivian decided, dropping the bag next to the armchair and going to Rugir, a hand on his waist. “There’s a lot of dangerous stuff in here. I don’t want you to get hurt Lily.” 

Rugir curled into his side. “Bad?” 

“No, no, it's not bad, I never told you it was off limits, I only thought of it now. It's just that there’s a lot of chemicals, drugs, that would cause you pain.” He kissed Rugir’s temple as he led him out of the room. He could swear that Rugir blushed. That was good, there was color coming back to his skin. “Do you want to go to the garden and read?”

Rugir shook his head. This was a new development, he was still not speaking much, but he had started to communicate. 

“Do you want something to eat?” 

He shook his head. 

“Do you want to take a nap?” 

He shook his head. 

“What do you want to do?” 

Rugir sighed, a long and heavy thing, as if all of the air in him had gone stale. “What do you…” 

“It’s okay.” 

“...when I’m not here. What?” 

“Do you want to see?” 

Rugir nodded. 

He is in love. There is a man lying. next to him in. bed, staring at the. ceiling, not speaking, and. he is crying, as. quietly as he can. and he is in. love. It is a. strange thing, to have. the first thought that. feels actually real, that. settles and stays, to. be one of absolute. love, of a want. that he can do. nothing about, but it. is true. He is. in love. 

He has. thought of this person. as a man but. it is much more. true to say he. is a boy. They. seem to be around. the same age. He. wants to reach out. and touch but lifting. his arm is difficult. There is a voice. in the back of his. head telling him to. strip and lay spread. and be taken, to. pull the boy on. top of himself. Parts. of him are hard. again. Parts of him. are soft. He wants. to be taken, kissed. held down and given. sensation. His head is. buzzy. 

The boy is. biting his lip. He. is trying to. be silent. He is. crying. He was asleep. a moment before. He. does not know what. the boy is crying. about. 

It takes effort. a lot of effort. but he rolls over. and he presses himself. against the boy. head striking his shoulder. It hurts. Parts of. him are hard and. they hit the boy. and they hurt, parts. of his arms and. ribs and pelvis, parts. that aren’t bone. 

It. makes the boy cry. harder, makes him inhale. try and fail to. control it. His lungs. are struggling to stay. steady. The boy pulls. him close, as if. he were a doll. and he does not. care about what’s hard. and what’s soft, he. doesn’t take as others. have taken, he takes. him in his arms. and he holds him. and he sobs. The. noise is loud and. awful. His pajamas are. wet with tears and. the sensation makes his. teeth hurt. But he. cannot fight it and. he would not fight it. 

The boy he loves. is holding him and. finding comfort in him. 

---

There was a knock on the door. Vivian was tired of there being a knock at the door. He did not want to answer it. He was on his way to the garden, where he’d left Rugir under a parasol and was carrying a tray of soft foods in his recently washed hands. He could still smell the soap over the rice pudding, brie, soda crackers, and soup. He did not want to open the door. It was, however, unlocked, and he could see through the little textured windows along the sides that there were a few people on the other side.

Bernardo was easy to spot, the man was massive after all, and there was no shouting, no one arguing or trying to get his attention. There was conversation, though he could not hear it, but it seemed casual and pleasant enough. In front of Bernardo was a woman, who must have been Bernardo’s wife, Marietta, and then there were three smaller shapes behind them, almost in the road, those must have been their children. 

“Uh the door’s unlocked, sorry, I’ve got my hands full,” Vivian all but yelled to be heard through the door. Surely Bernardo wasn’t going to try to convince him to come back to work with his family with him. 

The door opened, slow, conscientious, and Marietta smiled at him. She was a handsome woman, in a plain sort of way, with crooked teeth and a strong jaw. Her eyes were brown, almost the same brown as her hair, and her brows were incredibly expressive. She had the plumpness that was from happiness and a lack of care about modern fashion. Even her bustle was a few years out of date, though the textile of her gown was ornate, red and silver. There was a flush to her cheeks that told of how much she enjoyed the sun and had lugged the bags that she was carrying all of the way here. 

“You must be Vienna! I’m Marietta! Bernardo has told us all so much about you!” she chirped. 

“Vivian,” Bernardo corrected. He should have been holding most of the bags but he was only carrying one, one made of white linen.

“Vivs! Yes! Hello! Might we come in? Do you have a refrigerator?” 

Vivian was not a Vivs but he nodded, yes, they did have a refrigerator, they had needed it for some of their father’s projects. She took that to mean that she was invited in as well. He barely had time to move out of her way as she came up the step and inside, bags swaying on her arms. They didn’t seem to be too heavy, but they were full of things that were of difficult shape. 

“Bernardo told us that you were taking care of your little brother, isn’t that sweet? When he told me you were doing it all on your own I knew you probably didn’t have anything in the fridge for him, especially not at your age! When my sister was your age she would have been happy to only eat cannolis! Oh dear, is that what you’re eating for lunch?” 

She was staring at Vivian’s tray. 

“He has been struggling with keeping down solid foods,” Vivian explained. 

“Have you been trying? Where is he?” She got on her tiptoes, looking around the hall. 

“He’s resting in the garden.”

She gave a perky little harumph and turned, bouncing down the corridor as if she knew exactly where she was heading. Bernardo followed her inside, taking off his hat and setting it on the hooks beside the door. 

“Sorry about this Vivian, the moment she found out that you two were on your own she started cooking up a frenzy. You’ve never met my youngins have you? Here, here, Luca, Orsa, and Borthola. Kids, this is Vivian, one of Daddy’s coworkers.” 

The children were a range from Bernardo to Marietta, all large in one way or another, neither attractive and not, but all warm with affection. There was a buzzing happiness to all of them that stuck to them like spun sugar. Even though the kids were quiet compared to their mother, they gave a little bow, and looked at Vivian as if he were some hero, all but Luca, the eldest and tallest, who blushed as they looked him over. They were maybe fifteen and Vivian would have been flattered if he wasn’t quite so overwhelmed. 

“And you, Bernardo, what did you bring? Please tell me it's not something to do with work?” he sighed. 

Bernardo made a very unattractive sound in his throat. “Well, it's uh, you know that woman who came by the other day? Ms Secco? She didn’t like your answer, you know? She left the bone with me and demanded I give it to you. I don’t care what you do with it, I just don’t want her thinking I didn’t give it to you.” 

“Why not give it to another Profiti? Am I really the only one on this side of The Bricked Corridor?” 

“Daddy says you’re the best Profiti, that you studied under Iseppo Tieplo!” Luca said, their voice perky, their eyes bright, “Is that true?” 

“I couldn’t not study under Iseppo Tieplo, he was my father, but that doesn’t mean much.” 

Their eyes became even brighter, “That’s amazing! And you’re just a little bit older than me! Daddy says I have to be older to be a profiti, but you’re already so well renowned.” 

“Be glad your father defends you from such things,” Vivian decided that they were done with the conversation and followed Marietta out into the garden. The others followed him, and there was a light thud of the bag with its bone being set down in the hall before they were all out in the garden. 

“Oh there you are! I was hoping you’d come out soon, Vivs,” Marietta greeted, her voice just as perky, just quieter, forcefully subdued, “I didn’t know the state of him, I’m so sorry, Vivs, so sorry to both of you.” 

Vivian would have snapped at her, to call him by his name, but the concern had him turning to Rugir. Rugir had been in a half sleep when he had left him, looking at the flowers in a daze. Now he was curled up in the lounge chair, arms around his knees,face hidden by his hair. There was a noise coming from him, a whispered panic, something akin to words. Vivian drew closer, knowing that everyone was watching, trying to understand what was happening. 

“And mother said i was good that i was good that i was so milky and soft and their hands were rough but she said i was good and that it would only hurt for a moment and she said i was good but i didn’t feel good and then i was gone and if i was gone i couldn’t have been good at all could i? No. no. she said i was good.” 

“Lily?” Vivian asked, sitting in the dirt and grass beside Rugir, setting the tray to the side. Rugir had not spoken once before Vivian. He had hoped that the first thing that he said would be something positive, this was upsetting and disturbing. “Fiore, it’s me, it’s Vivian, I’m here.” He glared at Marietta over his shoulder. “What did you do to him?” 

“I said hello, I introduced myself, I put the bags down,” she pointed them out, “I put my hand on his shoulder, that was when he freaked out. I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

He recognized that the touch was different, that was good. He didn’t seem to recognize if Vivian was in the room or not but apparently he was present enough to know if someone else was touching him. 

“Darling, may I touch you?” Vivian asked. 

He put one hand on Rugir’s shoulder and his twin flinched, terribly, with more energy than he’d shown in a long long while, in years, aside from when he vomited. He brushed Rugir’s hair back, away from his face, to find his blue eyes laced with red, tears pouring down his cheeks. 

“The men said i was bad that bad boys go in the cell and they don’t see the sun that they get hurt and that i deserved to be hurt and it hurt and i did not see the sun and they gave me things and it hurt and it made me sick but it was okay because i was bad.” 

“My flower, my flower, would you look at me?” Vivian left his shoulder to put his hand on Rugir’s chin and he led his gaze over to Vivian’s. He did not see Vivian but he was looking at him and slowly, his quietly bumbling rambling slowed to a stop. “There you are Lily, it's alright, no one’s going to hurt you here. That was Marietta who touched you, she’s my friend’s wife, she would never want you hurt. Can I hold you a while?” 

Rugir was still, silent, for a moment, he was still weeping, there was no reason for him to stop. His lip was shaking. He was so beautiful. He nodded. 

Vivian slid into the lounge chair, pulling his brother up into his lap, pulling his face into the crook of his neck. He was bracketing him, keeping him safe and hidden between his larger body and the chair back. He let Rugir cry as he pet his hair and his back. He didn’t let go until Bernardo and his family had left. They left the bags full of casseroles and pies behind. 

Sick. Sick. Always. sick. 

---

The med.icine was. h.ard and it. went down. har.d and they. wanted him. to talk, they. wan.te.d him to. explain him.self, they. wanted. him to t.alk about voices. and pain. and delusion. The voices. were there’s. The voices. told him to. strip and lay dow.n and t.ake and ta.ke and tak.e and that. wasn’t here. That w.asn’t happe.ning. 

The hand. on him w.as soft and. kind and. nice. His head wa.s held as a. spoon was brought. to his. lips. He was. not handed the. bowl. and expecte.d to know h.ow to eat. His. hair was pulled. back when. he threw up. He was. not beaten o.n the floor in. his own mess. He was. wrapped in warm. blankets. and. soft. hands. He was. not left. in a. freezing cell. with clothing that. itched. 

It was. quiet now. There. was only th.e sound. of his own sic.kn.ess, his own. breathing, and a ma.n’s voice. He. did not know. the man. The man was. not a doctor. The ma.n was kind. He did not. understand. the words. 

He was sic.k but. he wa.s ge.tting better. He. could feel it. He wanted… He wanted… 

They had gotten the arsenic down to a more manageable level and the ergot was at a half dose, the strophanthin was almost completely out of Rugir’s system. He was eating more, still unable to hold a fork on his own but when Vivian put something to his lips he could at least bite into it, chew and swallow it, and keep it down. He was still terribly thin and silent, he didn’t look at Vivian but through him. It was their third week together and Vivian was worried that this was as good as it was going to get, not that it was all that bad, he would have loved his brother even if he needed Vivian to breathe for him. 

“Come here, Lily, I want to show you something,” he said it as if Rugir had any choice in the matter, in where he was looking, in what he was seeing. He put his hand on Rugir’s opposite hip and directed him, pulling Rugir’s thin arm over his broad shoulders. He wasn’t quick at walking, he didn’t even go in a straight line, it was only Vivian’s guiding that kept him on the path down the hall. 

At the stairs Rugir picked him up but he set him back on his feet at the bottom. He needed to walk on his own, he needed to get his strength. He was doing so well. 

Vivian kissed his temple and told him so, “You’re doing such a good job. Just a little bit further and you can rest.” 

Another corridor, in the opposite direction. Rugir had only been on the bottom floor of the small home once and that was when Vivian had carried him in for the first time. He didn’t recognize the portraits on the walls, didn’t look at the newspaper articles, or their father’s medals. He didn’t see the weapons and tools. He didn’t notice the scent of burnt wormwood or old laudanum. Even though Vivian felt like an addict some nights, he had not had a sip since Rugir had come home. 

“Almost there. Almost there, Fiore, you’re going to love this, I promise.” 

He opened the door for Rugir and held it, letting the sun come in from the small backyard. It had been many things but, between the time of their father’s untimely death and the loss of the house staff, he had thrown himself into projects, looking for anything to distract himself outside of his tinctures and work. He had torn out the herbs for their father’s work and replaced a great deal of it with his own, growing his own hemlock, wormwood, tobacco, and wisteria. He remembered the plants that their mother had grown when they were children and brought those in as well, rosemary, mint, lilies, and columbines. 

They had grown wild with Vivian’s attention being on Rugir instead of them, but the sun and rain had kissed them in turn and the weeds filled the spaces between the plants with different levels of greenery. He walked Rugir out and among them, to a lounge chair that he had put the cushions on while Rugir napped. 

He sat his twin down on them and there was something, something new, a little bit of life in those glassy blue eyes. He seemed to be looking around, though his eyes couldn’t focus on anything. He was more lost than understanding what Vivian was showing him, but this was growth, this was working in ways that Vivian hadn’t expected. If Rugir had just stared at the sky, Vivian wouldn’t have cared, but the sun and the flowers seemed to be doing something. 

“Here, here, let me show you everything, oh darling, you know what’s happening, don’t you? You know that we’re outside, do you enjoy the sunshine?” He was asking all sorts of questions. 

Rugir’s mouth fell open, just a little bit. His mouth was moving, nostrils flaring, as he smelled the spring air. Vivian was grinning. 

He left Rugir there as he dashed about the garden, picking the benign flowers and herbs, bringing them back to Rugir and holding them to his twin’s nose, feeding some of them to him, asking which he liked, telling him of the colors and how he grew them because he knew that Rugir had always loved the garden. Vivian had always wanted him to come home. He had missed him so terribly. He loved his brother so much. This was so much better, they were doing so much better than they had been separated. Vivian was on his knees, looking at how Rugir breathed and blinked. It wasn’t much, it could easily be Vivian’s imagination, but he could swear that Rugir was more together here then he had been in so long. 

Soon enough Rugir was asleep and Vivian opened a parasol above him, keeping that fair skin from burning. He weeded the garden as Rugir slept, deciding that, if this was what Rugir needed, he would make the garden a perfect sanctum for him. 

Vivina & Rugir Part 2

 Something. had happened. There was. som.ething. new. He was. one place. and now. he was in ano.th.er. It was qui.et. There was no. one screaming. The bed. was too comfortable. There had. bee.n movement but it. was gone now. It was. so qu.iet. There was. someone breathing. He. was being. watched. That had.n’t changed. He wondered. if he. was dreaming. He wa.sn’t afraid. He didn’t. know how to feel. that. 

---

Rugir was sick. That was expected. 

Vivian sat beside him on the floor in the bathroom, rubbing his back, as he vomited into the porcelain toilet. His little body was shaking, violently, and there were tears streaming down his cheeks. They were faster and thinner than the bile, but it was just as common. They had been on the floor for the better part of an hour now and it didn’t feel like they would be getting up anytime soon. 

Today was the first day that Vivian had attempted to give Rugir solid food. Just some plain crackers to go along with the bone broth but it was something. Supposedly it was too soon. But it was also more than that, Vivian could tell, it was the removal of the Strophanthin, his body wasn’t ready for so much less to be within it. Even if it was making him a zombie, it was regulating him. 

“It’s alright,” Vivian promised, repeating what he’d said a dozen times right here in this room. “You’re doing so well, get rid of all of the nastiness that is in your system.” 

Rugir didn’t seem to hear him. He never seemed to hear Vivian. Vivian didn’t mind. It would come eventually. If it never did, if Rugir was always this hollow shell, he didn’t care, he wasn;t going to give up on his little brother. He wasn’t going to abandon him. They were going to make this better. 

He wished that they had a maid then, so many other families did and the pair of them had grown up with a full staff. They had been, and Vivian still was, well to do. Their mother hadn’t been so lucky and Rugir had suffered for it as well as for his own quirks. Vivian had read that Rugir helped their mother afford his treatments and that terrified Vivian, as he didn’t know what all that meant. She had been a teacher and that was a fine profession, but she had one much less fine, in secret, in the evenings. Vivian had found out that she had taken residence at a cupid’s hotel and he was certain that Rugir had helped her there. 

How much had those foggy eyes seen? What pains had his sweet little twin gone through? Vivian had not yet cried for the time separated from his brother, he was far too busy for anything of the sort and, if Rugir could hear him, he did not want him to fear that Vivian resented him. 

His only wish for a maid or a nanny or anyone really, was so that Vivian would not have to leave Rugir alone in order to get him some water or a cup of tea or something that would clear that long swan neck. He wanted someone else to go down and answer the door, which someone was hammering on without any modicum of humility. He had had to let the staff go after their father’s death though, while his work paid well, it did not pay enough for housing staff, a lawyer, an investigator, his wormwood infused laudanum, a break in order to care for Rugir, and anything else they might need. They were not penniless, but it was starting to look dire. 

“Will you be alright, my darling, if I were to leave you long enough to shoo that dog from our door?” he asked when it became clear that whoever was at their door was not going to leave until they received an answer. 

Rugir did not answer, he just panted, stomach seizing in retribution from the vomiting clench. 

Vivian ran his hands through Rugir’s long hair. It was better, but still a bit greasy, caught and knotted easily. “I will return soon enough, my lily.”

He left Rugir, catching up his loose cardigan and buttoning it, hurrying down the stairs. He knew that he was not in the state for company, but this was not company at all. The door was shaking with the force of the pounding, they were trying, so desperately, to get an answer. 

Vivian pulled it open. He rolled his eyes. 

Bernardo was a beast of a man, one who had been very formidable before the incident. He had been a wall of muscle but he had been miserable. Now, missing an arm, more portly than muscular, and oftentimes toting around his pretty little wife and their three children, he was much happier. He had a little curled mustache and a fine suit that fit him like a glove. There was no armor hidden underneath it, there was no weapon hidden at his side. He was not the sort who pounded on a man’s door and hadn’t been for years. 

“You know I’m on break,” Vivian growled, arms crossed over his chest, “Can it not wait?” 

It couldn’t. That was clear in the sweat under Bernardo’s hat, the flush in his dark skin, the paranoia in his almost black eyes. 

“Wait? Wait? Have you read the news this morning?” It all came out in a panicked rush. If Vivian wasn’t so caught up in his duties to Rugir he would be swept up in it. 

“No, I’ve been busy.” 

“The Zorzi’s were massacred last night! The attacks are getting closer, more obvious.” 

Vivian leaned against the door frame. “And what does this have to do with me? There are other Profeti, better ones, and the Cacciatrici can’t be so dense that they can’t hunt down whatever is going around making such a mess! I’m busy.” 

“You’re the best one on this side of The Bricked Corridor and you know that!” Bernardo reminded. “More people are going to die! Don’t you care?” 

He did. He very much did. Ever since he’d first taken his supplements and seen what would be he has felt guilty. The first time he’d tried he had no anchor and he had seen a hundred thousand deaths, a war that would come to the world and leave the earth with charred expanses of nothing, craters where cities once lay. Since then he had been smarter, been trained by his father, used anchors to direct the visions. That didn’t always mean that the visions came in time, sometimes the fact that the future was known was enough to alter it, sometimes there was human error. 

“I do. But I can’t always care, that will break me, drive me mad, you’ve seen it before, have you not? We need to take breaks, heal, and you know that I am doing something extremely important to me.” Vivian reminded. 

“Your brother?” He sounds almost reverent.

“Yes.” 

“How is he?” 

“Bad. But he’ll get better.” and be 

“You see that?” 

“No, I decided it.”

“I can’t convince you to help on this case, can I?” Bernardo pressed, “Even with these deaths? This is serious business, my friend.” 

“Would you stop being an agent and return to being a Cacciatrici for it? Would you risk those that depend on you losing you? I think not. There will always be deaths and there will always be monsters, we cannot take on the guilt for each and every one without our hearts falling to decay.” 

Whatever Bernardo would have said died in his open mouth. “I. I see. I’m sorry. You’ll send for me when you are ready, yes?” 

He smirked. “What would I do without the best agent on this side of The Bricked Corridor?” 

Bernardo rolled his eyes but he did not linger much longer. Vivian was able to go back up to Rugir, who was still resting his face on the porcelain. He didn’t even flinch when Vivian came into the room, when he sat with him.