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Chapter Text

The Sight of the Stars

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
-Vincent Van Gogh.

Virgil stood, mimicking how all the other graduates in the assembly hall’s pits were standing- to attention and facing the raised stage, where the people with power had always placed themselves.

He used to watch them closely, but after counting all the times he had ever seen them look down to see the people they controlled, and only having enough occasions to fill one hand, he had realised that they weren’t worth the effort. To him, they didn’t deserve to be distinguished- so names and faces were forgotten, leaving space for things that he actually cared about. To him, they were just the board.

The board of directors, dictators, douchebags… the name changed depending on his mood, but the idea remained the same. They simply didn’t matter.

“It has been a tough couple of years, that I cannot deny, but I could not be more proud of these graduates standing before me today- you will all go on to be great assets to this academy, I’m sure.”

The Chairman, on the other hand, was a man that Virgil couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.

He was a good man- as good as someone with seemingly infinite power could be- and he was the only one who stood on that raised platform and looked down to see the people that stood below, the only one who ever seemed to give a damn about the students that he was in charge of teaching. Virgil respected the Chairman, everyone did, but that wasn’t why he chose to remember him. No. He chose to remember the Chairman mainly because of his son.

“And talking about great assets…” The man on the podium began, raising his voice to attempt to be heard over the buzz that ran through the crowd, the murmur that masked the excitement rising and bubbling in the air. He knew who the Chairman was talking about. Everybody knew. “Could Roman Altham please come to the stage? It is customary that the first graduate says a few words.”

With that his speech was over, but even if it wasn’t there was no way he would have been able to be heard. The humming of voices increased tenfold, rising into a clamouring cheer when a lone figure rose up and made his was through the crowd. They parted for him, squealing when he smiled and shouting even louder when he reached his rightful place on the stage, replacing the Chairman as the most influential person up there.

The Golden Wonder had arrived.

“Thanks, Dad,” he got a laugh from the crowd. Virgil wondered what the hell was so funny. “And thank you to everybody out there- all of you believed in me from the very beginning.”

Well he wasn’t wrong there. Mostly.

Virgil cracked open an eye. These people- with their relentless chatter- they were starting to get on his nerves. Who or what was so important? It was only the first day, surely nobody had died yet-

“Is that him?” The student seated in front of him, whose name he didn’t know- and was too nervous to ask- sighed, half standing to get a better view of- whatever it was. Virgil’s eyes flitted to the front of the lecture hall from his seat at the side, noticing the crowd that was gathered, chattering around the teacher’s desk. “It must be him. Who else would get escorted to class?" Whatever. It was probably just some cute boy that would lower the grades of whoever wasted their time trying to get close to him. Some cute boy that could be someone else’s problem, thank you very much. He may have wanted friends, but not one like that.

“Hey, shut up! He’ll hear you!” Virgil closed his eyes again, leaning back in his chair until the legs threatened to tip. The first class of the year wasn’t due to begin for another guard rotation, so he figured he would catch some shut eye. He wouldn’t waste his time getting tongue-tied attempting a conversation, for nerves had kept him awake, and he now had deep black rings around his eyes to show for it.

Hence the plan to sleep now. At least, that had been the plan. The conversations of students only seemed to get louder the longer his eyes were closed, and his brow twitched in irritation, mouth drawn together in a firm line. It was the first day. Now was not the time to be disliked. Now was not the-

“Excuse me?”

He let the front legs of his chair slam back down onto solid ground, opening his eyes to see whoever had spoken.

“Is anyone sat here?”

This must have been the source of chatter from his classmates, some pretty boy- yes, even Virgil would admit that he was startlingly pretty- who had approached the desk next to him that so far others had avoided like he had the plague.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the nerves from a first day in the academy. Maybe fate just hated him. Whatever it was, it caused him to speak without thinking it through. A terrible decision, honestly. How come when he wanted to make friends he could never find his words, but when it came to people who acted above- acted better- than everyone else they simply rolled off of his tongue?

“It’s taken.” The audible gasp of the crowd was what first clued him in that his words possibly weren’t the best things to say. Who was this guy? He was still smiling, so Virgil couldn’t have done anything that wrong, right? Right?

The pretty boy laughed, and the group of the people he had attracted laughed along with him. Virgil wondered what the hell was so funny. Stepping forwards, he leant on the seat that Virgil had declined him, sending an easy grin his way. Virgil didn’t budge.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Virgil blinked. “Am I supposed to?”

The dazzling grin that he received for that couldn’t have been more different from the glares that everybody else deemed him worthy of having. Did he find Virgil amusing? Normally he would let someone laugh and have their fun, but this pretty boy grated on his already thread bare nerves. His smile, so sweet to others, only felt patronising to Virgil. So he did think he was better. However the glares affected him more, the longer they lasted the more they began to unnerve him, almost to the point where he wanted to drop the pretty boy’s gaze and let him sit down. Under the desk his hands were clenched, almost a shocking white to the eye if anyone cared to look. They didn’t.

“You can’t talk to him like that! He’s-"

“The name’s Roman. Roman Altham.”

“Altham? As in- as in Chairman Altham?”

Fuck.

He leant further over the table, reaching out for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, even if you are a little grumpy.” A pleased smile rested at his lips, obviously happy with Virgil’s reaction.

Virgil had dug his grave with only one interaction and saw little way of climbing back out again, so he might as well get it over with- locking the door and throwing away the only key. “You think I’m going to treat you differently because of that? You could be the President of the United States, and I still wouldn’t let you take the seat.” He paused, gauging the crowd’s reaction more than the pretty boy’s himself.

“Move along, please. I’m trying to sleep.”

Roman released the chair, looking like he was barely listening to the multiple offers of seating that the group he had amassed sent his way. His smile seemed more for show now, to reassure the others- and maybe even himself. Virgil lowered his eyes to show he had nothing more to say, but also to avoid the pointed eyes all around him that bore scorching daggers into his skull. The chatter decreased in volume as the pretty boy casually walked back to front, taking a seat there like he couldn’t care less that Virgil had rejected him. The lecturer finally arrived, all suits and badges of merit- one of the members of the board, no doubt. The smallest of smirks reached Virgil’s face as he caught Roman looking back to see him, a frown ruining his perfect, prince-like features.

He only did it once, but he had still done it all the same.

Roman wasn’t looking at him now, only at the wide expanse of adoring fans that worshiped his every move, his every breath. The pretty boy had grown up into a prince, the face of the academy and all it stood for, and everyone- whether they were in the pits or on the stage- were his loyal subjects.

As he waited for the crowds to quieten down Virgil’s eyes moved to the board for no reason other than staring at Roman made his head hurt. That blinding smile of his must have been at fault.

Before, the men in suits hadn’t glanced the student’s way once, but now they only had eyes for Roman, smiling fondly at the graduate that they had always known would succeed with flying colours. A future where he didn’t was just unfathomable to them, Virgil was sure. Roman went to speak again, and the pits became hushed, everyone waiting with bated breath to find out what their golden graduate was about to say.

“I had hoped that this day would come, but still- first graduate- it’s such an honour, one that I’ve dreamt about for five years now.” Roman ducked his head, smiling to himself more than anyone else, and Virgil could have sworn that he saw someone swoon out of the corner of his eye. “The hard work that I’ve put in, that we’ve all put in, it’s all led to this. We are now graduates, fledglings, more than ready to fly into the world and make our own place in it.” A musical laugh fell from his lips. “I’m sorry- this is really cheesy-” his head turned back to his father, who was smiling too, watching proudly with teary eyes at his future successor. “-Is it too cheesy?”

He cleared his throat and turned back towards the microphone, holding the sides of the podium as his gaze swept the countless faces watching him talk. “Anyway, my point is that hard work has led us all here. We’ve worked for this- we deserve this.”

Virgil had walked into one of the multiple training rooms, choosing his regular- the one furthest away from all the others. He didn’t mind. No one else minded. After his clashing interaction with pretty boy, he found that it had ruined his prospects of companionship with the others, because heaven forbid anyone who wanted to be friends with someone that disrespected the Chairman’s son.

It’s not like Virgil needed them to like him anyway.

He had told himself that before, in the darkness of the dorm after the students that were stuck with him had fallen asleep. He had told himself that in the library in his sector, at a table empty save for him. He told himself that now, walking into the room- his room-

Only to find it… already occupied?

After a moment of silence that was deafening in his ears, he managed to find the words. “It’s you.”

A lone figure was stood a good distance away from smallest target in the centre of the lineup, much further than Virgil had ever tried to shoot. He wasn’t wearing the junior’s training uniform, a white and amber getup made of scratchy, thin material- one of the perks of having a family relation to someone in power, no doubt- instead donning red clothing of his own. He had been about to shoot, but Virgil’s words had pulled his attention away, eyes wide even before he caught sight of his form by the entrance.

Pretty boy.

“It’s you,” He echoed back, bringing the mock firearm up to rest on its stand. It was sleek in design, the matte black reflecting little light, but reminding Virgil of all the times he had been to nervous to attempt using it. He recognised the grin on Roman’s face, unnervingly familiar- even though it was only the second time he had witnessed it. “Are you following me?”

“What? No!” Virgil didn’t want to deal with this today. He should have just stayed silent, he should have just left to find an empty room, he should have given Roman the seat when he had asked for it and then none of this would have happened-

“Hey, hey! I was joking,” the boy in red spoke with practised ease, shoving one hand in his pocket as he beckoned Virgil over. “Come in, there’s tons of space.”

Virgil blinked, the other boy’s words bringing him out of his thoughts, but also filling him with confusion. He was acting friendly? Still? “Why are you here?”

“To train, obviously.”

Virgil reached his side, pulling at his amber sleeve. “No, I mean- why aren’t you in one of the main rooms?” He received a look of confusion. “With your friends?”

“Ah.” The pretty boy’s face morphed into a sheepish smile. “Well, I kind of wanted some time to train- without somebody telling me their opinions every shot I took.”

“Good opinions?” Virgil said, realising the question wasn’t even necessary.

“Of course,” Roman answered, obviously confused that it could be any other way. Disbelief, and some kind of dull, burning anger filled him as he headed for his own target, fingers wrapping around the firearm he had always chosen, the one he wasn’t scared to use.

"Wow, I’m just- I’m blown away by how modest you can be,” he snarked, raising the gun to the target but only having eyes for the boy stood next to him. Virgil took pride in his offended expression, enjoying it thoroughly more than the nice smiles that Roman had sent his way. He turned away only when the boy in red approached him.

“I’m only telling the truth- they think I’m good-”

Virgil cut him off with a shot of his gun, sure that both of their ears were ringing in the sudden silence that followed it. He gave a small sigh, taking a step back; he had missed. “And are you?”

He felt the need to utter the words quietly- and pretty boy was close enough to hear him anyway, blinking down at Virgil with rusty, copper eyes that were as disconcertingly perfect as the rest of him.

“Yes.” Roman didn’t hesitate. “I know the meaning of hard work." A pause, then he added, "I’m the best."

Virgil inclined his head to the ever staring bullseyes, holding out his gun to the pretty boy as he did so. "Then prove it."

Roman didn’t move. “Tell me your name first.”

When Virgil’s mouth remained closed from the order he had given, he spoke again, with an ease that the student would come to know almost by heart. “Come on- let me know the name of the person that disdains me so much.” T here was a silence as neither boy moved. “Well?”

“Virgil.”

He pushed the weapon into Roman’s hand.  “My name is Virgil.”

And with the that he was satisfied, breaking eye contact with the boy in amber to move towards a target, not even pausing for breath before lifting his arm and-

A second shot rang out in the forgotten training room. Virgil clicked his tongue. The circle that waited at the very centre of the target had been burnt dark by a mock bullet. It was a perfect shot, by a perfect student. He never expected anything else. The pretty boy was turning around, but it didn’t matter. Not to Virgil. He was already walking out of the door.

“Just keep trying. Who knows what’ll happen if you do?” Roman spoke, clearly in his element in front of so many people. He stepped back a little, but the Chairman came forwards and lay a hand on his shoulder. The first graduate grinned as his father went to speak again.

“Mr Altham. Son. Everyone at this establishment couldn’t be more proud of you.”

One of the board- a young man- hurried forwards as if he had missed his cue, offering the Chairman a small rectangular box. He opened it swiftly, removing a green oval pin with a smattering of golden stars running across the surface, fixing it to Roman’s jacket with a smile. “You graduate with flying colours, and a Codename.”

What the Chairman said sent a hushed ripple through the crowd. Virgil frowned. Yes, Roman was good- he was amazing, but wasn’t this going a little far? Officers could go for years without even getting a chance at what was being handed to Roman on a silver platter.

“I hereby name you Prince, and may you guide this academy to the future for years to come.” He brought his son into a hug, and the crowds erupted into an ear-deafening frenzy, calling and cheering and clapping until the only the only thing that ran through Virgil’s mind was that even though this was a graduation for everyone… they only seemed to care about Roman. No. Now they only cared about Prince.

Eventually the cheering crowds lost their voices, and the Chairman continued. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the board, the time has come for Mr Altham here to select a graduate to be his partner.” He was still talking about his son, of course. Were they ever going to even acknowledge the rest of the class today? It seemed unlikely. Roman gripped the sides of the podium once more, eyes sweeping the faces that turned away to mutter ideas and thoughts and hopes about who was going to be the lucky person that would receive instant fame and glory- just by associating with the Golden Wonder himself.

He began to speak, but his eyes were still scanning, taking in the faces of his fans and deliberating their importance- had he waited this long to decide? Virgil wanted to laugh at the hint of panic in Prince’s eyes, he was the only one to see it as everyone else was busy discussing possibilities- imagining what would happen if Roman were to pick them.

“My partner is going to be…” His pause was only to buy him time. Virgil knew that. But to everyone else- including the media- their wonderful Prince was just adding suspense to the occasion. Nobody was voicing their thoughts to Virgil- nobody ever voiced their thoughts to Virgil- so his head was not ducked. He found watching Roman struggle on stage much more amusing anyway, and he couldn’t help but snigger at his expense. Unfortunately for him, his voice rang loud- carried above the hushed whispers of the crowds, and he found himself staring into the eyes of the Golden Wonder, unable to tear his gaze away as his mind started to run.

Recognition filled those coppery eyes, and Virgil realised with a start that maybe being the only person in the pits with his head raised wasn’t such a good idea after all. He ducked his head, managing- somehow- to bring his eyes away. But it was too late.

The mistake had been made.

“Hey, Virgil!”

The darkened room had hindered his sight, and heightened his other senses, but it was hardly necessary with how loud Roman shouted in his ear. One of the rare flashes of acid-yellow strobe lighting blew up the room with light leaving Virgil with a clear view of the course, and it’s obstacles, if only for a single instant.

The field ahead was devoid of figures, of students blindly crawling over apparatus in the hope of reaching the exit first. So he was on the right path then. Something brushed his arm, alerting Virgil to the fact that though there were no student in front of him-

A second flash struck the floor right below Virgil’s feet, and his gaze was filled with glowing eyes and an infuriatingly calm grin. Though there was none in front of him, Roman was at his side.

“Altham,” he finally replied, stepping over a block that had burned into his memory. To his annoyance, Roman had remembered as well, staying close.

Probably because of how little they were affecting the two of them, the strobe lights changed their course of action in the blink of an eye; so instead of being given brief glimpses of the course the students now saw the entire hall flicker constantly, changing from blue, to green, to pink, to purple to red to darker red back to green to that first acid-yellow and now everything was disjointed, phasing in and out of existence every second, constantly changing Virgil’s view. It became harder to avoid the blocks because of it, infuriating him to never truly be able to pinpoint the location of what was in his view.

But there was one good thing. Everyone- even Roman- was struggling too. The boy in red never showed it of course, the colours in the air making his clothes look less red and more like a galaxy that shone bright, never without its distracting qualities.

Did you finally decide to join the party?” The pretty boy threw him a smile- how he had the ability to do so when it felt like the world was tipping over Virgil had no clue.

He saw that Roman’s hands were clenched, much like his own, but on him it gave the impression of strength, while to Virgil it was only a sign of his restraint beginning to spiral, not out of control, but out of his comfort levels to fill his head with unwanted thoughts of failure and fear. Yeah. Roman’s meaning for them was way cooler. As was his technique, for though his speed had slowed the dazzling strobe lights had done nothing to his form and will to win, pulling that little bit ahead of Virgil and causing him to clench his hands that little bit tighter, in hidden frustration.

“I’ve been behind you the whole time, Roman.” He waited for the pretty boy’s retort.

“I know.” There it was, with a smug grin to match.

“Virgil,” Roman muttered softly, and the graduate's head whipped up in horror.

Roman’s face was transforming into something indistinguishable, while he felt like falling apart. The Chairman laughed, and Virgil winced, the sound loud and scratching in his ears. He refused to bring up his gaze again. “Could you speak up, son?" Roman didn’t even look his father’s way- Virgil could tell with the uncomfortable prickle that ran down his neck with the feeling of being stared at by harsh eyes. Prince was still watching him.

“Virgil Sanders.”

The change in the air was instantaneous, voices of confusion mixing with shouts that demanded an explanation. Virgil hunched his shoulders, wanting to hide, to run, to disappear into thin air before anyone could recognise him. His mind was reeling- had Roman really chosen him? Or was it all one big misunderstanding, and he merely wanted to get the graduate’s attention? He didn’t know- but he desperately wanted to, and he wanted it enough to lift his head and find Roman’s gaze again.

Sure enough, the first graduate still had eyes only for him. Fuck.

Eventually somebody noticed him- an extraordinary feat, really, for he so did wish to disappear- and shoved him forwards. Other hands joined in, and he was jostled up and onto the stage when all he really wanted to run away and hope beyond hope that it was all dream. Sadly for Virgil, with an uncountable number of eyes trained on him, this seemed to be new and twisted reality that he would have to used to. He could fee Roman’s gaze on him most of all, burning into his side as he refused to look his way.

A hand appeared in his line of vision instead, and he looked up with a start to take in the Chairman, offering a handshake and a warm smile. He took it- his hand weak in the Chairman’s own- and a realisation sunk in all at once.

“Congratulations, Mr Sanders- the second graduate of Altham Academy,” he released Virgil’s hand, reaching for his jacket instead. He watched with wide eyes, blinking rapidly as if it would make him see it better as the Chairman pinned a badge that replicated Roman’s own- but with glinting silver stars instead of ones crafted of burning, royal gold. He murmured a thanks, counting the stars instead of the gazes on him made it all a little easier to bear. He… he was the second graduate. Him.

The forgotten student stood on the stage, forgotten no longer. Invisible no longer. Unimportant no longer. Now everybody knew his name- which scared the hell out of him.

“Virgil.”

The sudden voice in his ear scared him more, startling him enough to lift his eyes and meet the breathtakingly familiar ones that watched him. The Prince still held an expression that he didn’t know how to describe, tilting his head to the open door that was waiting for them. “We need to go.”

When he still didn’t move- “Now.”

The light, almost giddy tones that the first graduate had portrayed were gone now, and his quiet words were all but lost to Virgil as the crowds in the pit where he belonged- he didn’t belong up here with the important ones- increased in noise, all clamouring for Virgil to speak, for their Prince to speak, for someone to explain who did he think he was, and how was he the person that had caught the eye of the most influential graduate the academy had ever seen. All the voices, the guttural screaming, had him frozen to the spot.

Except when Roman gripped his arm and tugged him away Virgil had no choice but to follow, leaving the voices of the demanding mob behind. It was only later in the night when he had returned to his room that he realised, while he had received his pin, the Chairman hadn’t given him a Codename.

Virgil didn’t quite know what that meant. He didn’t know why Roman had chosen him, or even why he had recognised him at all. Maybe he wasn’t meant to get one? After all, he was nothing like Prince. The second graduate realised that right now, he didn’t seem to know a lot of things. His mind was racing- it had been all afternoon, ever since Prince had spoken his name again.

‘Virgil Sanders.’

It really had been a long time, hadn’t it?

He couldn’t comprehend those words- the way Roman said them- they just left him on edge, gripping his worn amber sleeve with tight fingers. Virgil would have to get that replaced. Was the upturn of his mouth when he had uttered his name a sign that it left a bad taste in his mouth? Was the audible sigh that escaped his lips and enhanced in volume by the microphone a sign of discontentment, of annoyance at having to remember an unwanted face from the past?

It seemed likely.

“Hello?” A familiar voice sounded out beyond the door. He froze where he stood. “Sanders, can I come in?” His decision became worthless, along with the voice’s request- as the door slid open mere moments after it had spoken. He had been reaching for the touchpad, but because of the sliding door his hand met warm fabric instead.

“...Okay?” His head flew up, ready to pull his hand away and apologise profusely- until he recognised a face from the past of years before- or alternatively from the previous couple of hours. Either worked.

“Altham,” he breathed, mind freezing in such a way that he could nothing but stare. Out of everyone that lived on his floor, out of everyone in the entire academy- why did it have to be him?

Roman Altham, former classmate and future partner, with caramel eyes and gleaming teeth that sent his fans crazy. Roman, with his hair- his goddamn perfect hair- that wasn’t that much unlike Virgil’s actually, except that it was shinier, more styled, pushed back instead of drooping over his eyes and- you know what? They weren’t alike after all. Not in ways that mattered. Roman, who was currently at his door, leaning uncomfortably against the side. It was understandable seeing as Virgil’s fingers still pressed into his chest. The awkwardness was palpable, and he had no idea what to say, or even how to speak. How did you speak to someone properly after years of silence? It seemed that Roman knew, for he was the first to break into speech. “I came to give you these. Everyone else was busy with more- more important matters.”

That stung a little, enough to get Virgil reaching out for the fabric resting in his partner’s hands, not before dropping his hand from his chest. His partner- Roman was his partner- what the hell had he done to deserve this?

The fabric unfolded, a dark jacket, and Virgil smoothed the creases out with a quiet sigh of disbelief. So he didn’t need to replace that old one after all. He had graduated with far, far better prospects than he could have ever hoped to dream of. He was the Second Graduate, all because of-

His arms dropped, and it didn’t go unnoticed that the Prince watched a dark sleeve dangle and brush the floor. His eyebrow was raised- he had been raised to show his opinions.

All because of Prince.

He would have never gotten this far on his own, could never have dreamed of this without Prince choosing him with whatever reasoning he had. Talking of the royal, he was now stood next to the bed, eyes scanning the room. Virgil knew it was messy. He wouldn’t have cleaned it even if he had known Roman was coming.

“It’s small,” he muttered, and Virgil wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it or not.

“What is?”

“The room.” Roman gestured around, as if it was obvious, gaze roaming the post it notes that were pasted haphazardly on the grey walls. Those were what brought a hazy blush to Virgil’s cheeks, he didn’t want him to see his work. “I thought the standard issue cadet size was larger than this- mine is, anyway.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Of course yours is. You’re the Golden Wonder.”

He stiffened. Why did he say that?

“What?” Roman grinned, taking a seat on his bed without asking, leaning towards Virgil eagerly. “Did you call me… Golden?”

The second graduate shuffled backwards. “No! That’s just what your fans call you-“

“So you’re one of my fans?” His grin became wider as he rose again and stepped forwards to claim the space Virgil had relinquished. “Oh, this is just precious.”

Virgil wanted to disappear- this was the absolute worst. He was sure that his ears were bright red too by now, and thanked his lucky stars for the dark shadows that filled the room, sure that without them Roman would have something else to tease him about. “I-I’m not!” His hand clenched around themselves, wishing more than anything that he had something other than his fists to throw in his face. “Why would I ever like you?”

Unfortunately for him, Roman’s face remained smug. He knew all the reasons that people liked him, and maybe Virgil knew those reasons too- but that didn’t mean he liked him. It was time for a subject change- now.

“Are you done then?” And when Roman didn’t move- “can you leave?”

“Now Sanders- is that any way to talk to your partner?” Roman chided him, hand coming up almost as if to point it at him before he thought better of it. Damn right.

He didn’t really feel like being nice, no matter what the first graduate told him to do. “I wasn’t aware you remembered my name- what an honour.” Something in Roman’s face fell. “Now will you leave?”

“No, wait,” Prince held firm, despite the glare he was sending his way. Maybe he was too tired for it to work. Maybe he wasn’t very good at it, but no need to dwell on the possibilities now. He had a royal to get rid of. “Why would you think that I wouldn’t remember your name?”

Virgil wanted to laugh, the first graduate actually looked shocked, mouth the slightest bit open- Roman couldn’t have been aware of it but the face he was making made him look less proud, and more… normal? That wasn’t the right word. As if Prince could ever be normal. As if he would ever want to be.

But was he saying what Virgil thought he was saying? That he remembered him? That he chose- that he wanted to remember him? The Prince’s expression became all the more endearing to him because of that thought. Maybe Roman… wasn’t so bad? It couldn’t be true.

He allowed himself a smile nonetheless. A real smile, no matter how small.

“I said it half an hour ago- how couldn’t I have remembered it?” Prince grinned, while Virgil’s smile broke. There it was. Of course it couldn’t be true. “Anyway, moving on! There was another reason I came- a much more important reason, if you ask me.”

Despite the late hour that it was, Roman ushered him out the door before he could protest, tugging his jacket from his grasp and throwing it around his shoulders. Virgil wanted to push his hands away but Roman was treating him like a child, smoothing his hands over his torso and sides to ease out any wrinkles, as well as reaching to straighten his collar. He drew the line at that, batting his hands away.

“I can fix my own damn collar, Prince. And where are we even going?”

“Classified,” was the only answer he got as Roman ignored his statement and ran his fingers over his collar anyway. His hands were warm, and if Virgil was a schoolgirl with a crush he could have sworn they lingered a moment longer than necessary. But he wasn’t, and Roman obviously didn’t see him as anything more than a nuisance, so he pushed the thought that definitely hadn’t been there from his mind.

“Classified. Really?”

“Yep,” Roman grinned. “Secret. Hush-hush. Strictly need to know basis.”

Bastard. Virgil shoved him, hard for good measure before giving in and following him without question. Sometimes, despite himself, he was no better than Roman’s adoring fans. The thought made his stomach sink.

In the most backwards, twisted way… he had missed this. Talking to somebody could be nice, occasionally. Of course, he would have preferred better company, but what could you do?

“...Not even going to ask again?” Roman stopped outside an unmarked door, an unusual sight in the academy corridors. Virgil had to swerve to avoid walking into him as he raised a hand to the scanner on the wall. “You’re no fun anymore, Virgil,” he sighed trying to bait him. It worked.

“Well you were never fun in the first place, so who’s the real one at fault here?” It was surprisingly easy to slip back into their old routine, even though years had passed without contact to refresh it. Roman went to open the door, but Virgil was lost in thought, recalling the familiarities that after years of silence, of simply existing in limbo inside his head, began to resurface to the forefront of his tired mind.

“I’m just saying, people would like you a lot better if they could actually look you in the eye.”

A hand brushed against his fringe, then suddenly he was seeing pools of molten copper instead of the blurry targets he was trying to shoot at. The side of the smooth gun he held- he had finally worked up the nerve to try the one Roman had used- pressed against the owner of those eyes, and Virgil sighed in mock annoyance, a twist in his chest making itself known to him as the pair of eyes crinkled to accompany a smile in response.

“Ah,” the pretty boy said, tone frustratingly playful. “I can hardly believe it- you have expressions behind that curtain you call hair?’”

He pushed Roman’s hand away, stomach only tightening at the snicker filling his ears. To the boy wearing red’s dismay his fringe fell without something to hold it up, covering his eyes once again.

“Not everyone wants to be a happy-go-lucky social butterfly like you, Altham.”

He pushed the hair away himself however, just to see his fellow students reaction. He looked like he couldn’t decide between a gasp of offence, or a second laugh that could only send his heart into another spin. The result was a wide grin, front teeth poking out from under his lip, and a scrunched nose that Virgil couldn’t lie to himself about and say it wasn’t slightly adorable. He ducked his head to avoid showing his smile. Roman probably saw it anyway.

“Sanders, you’re missing the point,” pretty boy groaned, shaking his shoulders in a half hearted attempt to annoy him and get his attention. As if he didn’t have it anyway. “If you don’t have friends, when you graduate and get a partner it’ll be awkward as hell. But if you changed it up a little-”

He took a step back, holding his hands up in the shape of a camera lens, peering through them like he was some kind of project. Humouring him, Virgil returned his gun to the stand and faced Roman head on. “You could push it back, cut it shorter… maybe even dye it a new colour?”

Virgil worried at his lip, tugging at one of the black strands that dangled over his forehead. “What’s wrong with how it is now?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Roman answered hurriedly, cheeks darkening ever so slightly to match his uniform. “It’s good. It’s… better than good,” he murmured, running a hand through his own hair while ducking his head. Shoving the other into a pocket, his voice was so low that Virgil wondered whether he was meant to hear the words in the first place. After a second of silence Roman seemed to remember he was still there, and cleared his throat with a sudden sense of clarity. “But a change might impress others, something like…” His gaze swept the room, searching for inspiration. A grin lit up his face when he got the door to the training room in his sights. “...Purple?”

Virgil all but blanched, wondering if that had been a joke, or if he actually expected him to think that standing out that much would be a good idea. Hair like that was way out of his comfort zone, would only increase the stares and the whispers that followed him throughout the trainee corridors. “I always thought you were crazy, Altham. Now I have the proof.”

Roman only laughed, as he always did. “You wound me, sometimes. You know that, right?”

He didn’t laugh this time, only pushing open the door and stepping inside, expecting Virgil to follow. He did.

Inside was the Chairman, who welcomed Roman with a smile before turning to him, and acting like he had known his name before this day.

“Have a seat both of you, and we will begin tonight’s proceedings.” He did. Virgil caught Roman glancing at him with a poorly hidden grin, and whether he expected him to be excited or grateful, the second graduate didn’t know. The uncut label under the collar of his dark-toned jacket tickled the back of his neck as he shuffled in his seat.

“The new jackets are a pain the ass, aren’t they?” Both graduates turned their heads swiftly to the door, to the source of the new voice.

At first it seemed to Virgil that the entrance had been shrouded in shadows, but as his eyes adjusted, it was merely a man clothed in layer upon layer of black, a jacket matching his own on top of it all, leaning heavily against the doorframe with an easy grin on his face. That wasn’t what drew Virgil’s attention though. It was the slippers. Blue bunny slippers, with little fabric sunglasses sewn over their little bunny eyes.

The man’s gaze travelled around the group with lidded eyes, barely managing to keep them open, then back to Virgil and the stiff new jacket that he wore.

Virgil’s first thought was that he looked even more tired than he himself felt. But still- he was at a loss at what to do. What was this? Who was this? And why were those on his feet? Almost as if he could read Virgil’s thoughts, the newcomer shot a wink his way before his eyes moved again, to the figure at his side.

“Well, look who finally graduated,” he smirked, moving quickly- for a guy in slippers- while reaching out to ruffle Roman’s hair affectionately. “Thought I’d be stuck here with the old dudes forever.”

“Remy,” Prince’s voice was warm. “I’m only two years behind you.”

The man in black raised an arm in the air dramatically, and that was when Virgil realised that the tight fitting clothes he wore were actually just pyjamas. “Exactly! That’s two years of boredom that you’ve subjected me too,” he clutched a hand to his chest, all but throwing himself into the empty chair opposite Roman. “I hope you’re happy.”

“Somnus. Thank you for coming, even if your choice of clothing is a little…” The Chairman raised an eyebrow from where he sat at the head of the table. “...Unorthodox.”

Somnus only shrugged, lifting his elbows onto the table to rest his head in his hands. “You may have called a meeting, but it’s late. As if I would be wearing anything else.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that, half in amusement, half in disbelief that this guy could talk to Roman and the Chairman like that and still be alive. He winced however, when for the second time that day, his laugh drew the attention of the person it had been directed at. Somnus- it felt too weird to call him by his first name so soon- seemed to remember he was there, silver grey eyes not softening in the slightest when he spoke his way. “Hey newbie.” An outstretched hand. "Remy McKenna. Don't bother with all that Codename nonsense, it's not like we're on duty."

Virgil knew he was being paranoid, but it felt like his steel gaze was picking him apart piece by piece it was more probable than not that he was comparing him to Roman and seeing how much worse he was. The first graduate in question was speaking to the Chairman, but Virgil was too busy trying not to fidget under the intensity of those curious metal eyes.

“You picked a good one here, Princey.”

"Huh?"

“What?” Roman replicated his confusion, but now the man clad in black wore a lopsided grin, and it was directed at Virgil. “You look like you could hold your own.” He nodded in Roman’s direction. “Don’t let him do anything too reckless, yeah?”

He sat up a little straighter, returning with a shy smile of his own. “Yeah, sure.”

Somnus - no, McKenna slouched down into his seat, mouth stifling a yawn, but he still kept his eyes on Virgil’s. “Cheers newbie.”

“You two are aware I’m right here, aren’t you?”

He blinked sleepily, ignoring Roman completely. Virgil liked this guy. “Boss-man? Shoot.”

“We’re still waiting on Narrator.”

“Not tonight,” Roman interjected, impatience shining through with his eager smile, urging his father to speak. “He’s in sickbay.”

There was a sigh. “Again?”

“Again.”

The name was lost to Virgil. He still had no clue what was going on. The Chairman looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should be laughing or reeling in the annoyance that Virgil could see in his gritting of teeth and the shake of a head. In the end, with Mckenna’s smile, Roman’s pout, and Virgil’s refusal to look him in the eye, he tapped the side of the table which opened a drawer. The same happened by every chair, and Virgil looked at it with all the intention of avoiding anyone’s gaze and none of actually focusing on what lay inside.

“An earpiece?” Roman however, was more than happy to pay attention to the meeting- and why shouldn’t he? He was an equal to everyone there. “What’s this for?”

“Alright, gentlemen.” the chairman began, sliding the small, unassuming mechanical tech into his palm and holding it up for everyone to see, despite the fact that they had their own. “This is your new eyes and ears. It’s the voice in your head, telling you how to succeed in whatever mission this academy deems you worthy of.” His thumb found a button which he pressed, and the soft whisper of static flowed out of the tech and into the air, filling the space that was reserved for speech and claiming it as its own. Virgil wondered if that was why they had called it white noise. Something that spoke in a language of its own, laying claim to the silent space, deserved more of a name than just sound.

McKenna only blinked. He must have known of the earpiece already. Roman only smiled. He must have been hoping for excitement such as this. Virgil only waited. He was so. Confused. But confused enough to voice his thoughts? No.

“And… who’s on the other end?” Roman picked up his piece and Virgil did the same. He wanted to turn it on, to let more of the static fill the place where his own voice would have gone, but he settled for turning it over in his palm, noting its smoothness, while his eyes traced the senseless pattern of lines that curled around the tech, each directing his gaze someplace else.

“Your missions advisor,” the chairman said while returning the earpiece to the drawer, sliding it gently shut. “You will know him as Deceit.”

There was a moment of pause.

“That sounds kinda dumb,” Roman stated, having the courage to voice what Virgil dared not speak aloud. “The name, I mean.”

There was something he had to say though.

“I’m sorry,” he winced as those two words brought every gaze to rest heavily on him, and he was already regretting speaking up and gaining their attention. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what is going on here?" His gaze flickered between the two Altham men, one’s eyes filled with pity at how feeble he seemed compared to his son, and the other’s glittering with barely concealed amusement. In the end it was McKenna who spoke first.

”I’m guessing Princey over here didn’t fill you in on the details?”

A quick glare to Roman. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Need to know basis my ass.

“Roman can be a pain. Don’t let him get to you too often,” he said, smiling as if he had suggested the easiest thing in the world. “All you need to know is you and me, and Mr Too-big-for-his-Boots over there are all members of Altham Special Operations. We’re basically the cool guys that walk away from explosions. Oh- this guy too.” He picked up his earpiece and held it up, even though the Chairman has aready done the same.

McKenna's smile dimmed a little, slouching further in his seat. “Make sure you listen to this guy, Newbie. He saved my life once.”

“Well I don’t think he’ll be of any use to me,” Roman’s voice cut in, proud as always. Virgil didn’t miss the Chairman’s nod as he stood, beckoning everyone to do the same.

“That seems to be everything, so all I can say to you now is goodnight, and good luck.” McKenna stifled another yawn, and the second graduate left in a daze.

Nobody, not even McKenna, who Virgil had deemed as one of the more friendly people at the academy, spoke another word to him that night.

***

“Virgie.”

The second graduate’s head shot up, jolting from its position staring at the floor at the mention of his name.

In the yellow glow of the shuttle’s overhead lighting, flickering and dim, he could still make out Roman’s smile, finding humour in Virgil’s wide eyes. The static in his ear crackled. “Calm down scaredy cat. It’s not like this is your first mission or anything. Oh wait.” His smirk was harsh in the harsher light. “It is.”

Any reply, whether filled with profanities or no, was forgotten as the shuttle shook like a beast move to expel unwanted drops from its coat. and Virgil gripped at his harness, hard enough to whiten knuckles. He could help but feel like he would be better suited outside the shuttle as one of those expendable water droplets. Without thinking it through he looked to Remy McKenna. Somnus. The guy seemed to be friendly enough, and on his side before, but the look he received in return could only be described as indifferent, hard eyes familiar, but still unnerving in the artificial glow. If the light could hate, it seemed it would hate the sniper as it was showing him, sat hunched over and low in the corner of the seats, to the world.

He looked hollow, almost burdened in this kind of light, the one that refused to flatter and insisted on bringing attention to flaws and secrets that people always held. It made the serial number on his jacket stand out starkly, burning into Virgil’s mind.

15903. Two years above. 

McKenna seemed colder than he did before, harder to read despite the light that exposed the dark lines underneath his eyes. Virgil was going to say something to him, but what could he say to a face like that? A face seemingly dead to the world.

Even if he had gone through with it and tried to get Remy to be aware of his surroundings, any words he held would have been forgotten instantly as the static that thrummed in his ear cut out, leaving the second graduate in an unnerving state of silence. He released the breath he had taken, the air whistling between his gritted teeth. He couldn’t get spooked this easily, not unless he wanted to doubt himself. Well, doubt even more than he already did. It was only a little silence.

“Hello?”

And then suddenly it wasn’t. He sat up straight in his seat, grip faltering on the harness as he struggled to find the right words, the right phrase, the right way to do anything-

“Hello? Has this earpiece been assigned?”

“Y-yes,” he managed to choke out, ignoring the return of Romans’ gaze as best he could. “Yes, it has. Hello.”

“Good. Are you an A.S.O? Could you tell me your name?” The voice was mellifluous, smooth in his ears, and Virgil thanked the stars that he hadn’t researched his academy records.

”Sorry... what?” 

“Does this earpiece belong to an Altham Special Operative?”

He tried to stop twisting his fingers, but they were shaking out of his control, along with the bouncing of a leg that echoed a tapping sound throughout the shuttle. “Ah, yes I am. It’s Virgil.” He inwardly cursed how blunt he was being. “My name is Virgil.”

“Right.” There was a pause, with the slightest sound of shuffling papers. Was Deceit writing it down? “And your codename?”

McKenna was watching him now too, not with confusion like he had seen Roman briefly show, but with an air of forced interest. Like he didn’t want to watch, but he felt it necessary. Why he felt that, Virgil didn’t know.

“About that,” he began. “I don’t… I was never given one.”

There was a moment of peace. He missed the static.

”Virgil it is then.” A breathy chuckle hummed into his ear. “I’ll go now, the other’s need checking up on too.”

“You did me first?” He cringed at the disbelief shining clear in his tone.

“You just got lucky,” Deceit quipped, laughing properly this time. Virgil’s fingers stilled, ceasing their dance on his thigh. “Don’t worry, Virgil. You’ll do fine.”

After a moment of nothing the static returned, and Virgil watched as McKenna began to murmur quietly, seemingly to himself if Virgil hadn’t known better. He took breaths- they were constant where the static was erratic, yet faint in his head where the white noise had already claimed attention.

The encouragement had helped, he couldn’t deny that. He didn’t want to. Deceit, in one conversation, had been nicer to Virgil than Roman ever had.

“You’re doing it wrong,” the singsong voice called from behind.

Virgil couldn’t help but lower his arm, the gun dropping down to dangle uselessly at his side. “Not everyone is as ‘naturally talented’ as you.”

He expected that to be it, that Roman would have gotten bored of teasing him by now- but it seemed not as the boy in red poked him in the back. He straightened up on instinct, mouth open and ready to argue, but he realised that was Roman had wanted him to do.

Was he… helping? Roman Altham was helping?

Roman nudged his foot, a smirk blossoming on his face as he could hear his disbelieving thoughts, distracting Virgil enough to not move it straightaway. “It’s not talent, it’s common sense- how do you expect to stay balanced with a posture like that?”

Oh god. He was.

“Lay off the insults, would you?”

Roman’s hand slipped don his arm to find the hand curled around the smooth, mirrored gun. That was his go to weapon now. He let the pretty boy lift his hand back up and towards the target, hand too slack from the shock of Roman’s change of heart to even try and pull away. “But I thought insults were our thing.”

He scoffed at that as Roman’s other hand rested at the small of his back, keeping his posture straight while leaning into him, wanting Virgil to turn to the side. He did.

"Too much,” Roman’s hummed by his ear, seemingly forgetting everything about personal space. His hand left Virgil’s back, trailing up to grip his shoulder and slightly change his direction. “Come back.”

Virgil had tried to keep his gaze on the barrel of hs gun the entire time, and even when he had the inkling of an idea to look away he only dared to move his eyes up to the waiting target. Never to the side.

"Now you’ve got it.”

He didn’t know what he expected to see when he turned to look at the singsong voice that had eminently decided to say something nice, though he did note how easily his resolve had been broken. It definitely wasn’t how close Roman’s face would actually be, or that he would be hoarding proud eyes. It wasn’t lips that would widen in a silent gasp as if he too had realised how close they had ended up being, too close, far too close.

It was weird, seeing the pretty boy without that smirk he seemed to save only for him. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like to kiss that smirk away.

“Why are you helping me?” He spoke instead, the thought gone as quickly as it had come.

Even that was difficult, with how close their faces were. Roman still hadn’t let go of his arm. It didn’t look like he cared about that right now. It looked like he only cared about watching Virgil, watching him with wide eyes, with real, emotion-rich eyes that were taking him in properly for the first time.

“I want you to be better,” came the reply, and he was glad for Roman supporting him because his legs felt weak for reasons he didn’t begin to know. “Virgil, I want you to be better.”

Deceit, in one conversation, had been nicer to Virgil than Roman had in a long time. As if he knew Virgil was thinking of him, the static cleared once more leaving an encouraging voice behind. "Virgil, it's time to go. We've all got your back." His head turned to Roman almost instantly. "Just- don't worry, okay? Can you do that?"

The yellow lighting flickered out, McKenna was up and at the hatch before any of them had a chance to move. Virgil watched him go, the Codename Somnus faintly visible in the dark while voices returned to their owners, mixing and blending into excited whispers and clamours of good luck. The other special operators knew each other, they knew their jobs, it was all so simple for them. He couldn't but help to feel a sharp pang of envy with the thought.

With fingers that were shaking less with every second Virgi undid his harness and moved to the sniper's side. "I.. I think so. Yes, Deceit."

He was too absorbed in waiting for the silence to be broken by a voice, that he didn't notice the smokey eyes flickering over him and his earpiece, or the way Remy's jaw tightened at the mention of that Codename.

"Good," Deceit said, voice mellow yet crackly in his ear.

And then the hatch opened, light pouring into the previously darkened hold, not hesitating to cast the shadows away with a refulgent amber shine that reminded Virgil too much of fire. When the blast of heat followed, chasing the evacuating rays of light, he wanted to run with them. But they were in the ship. And this planet was burning. The only way to move was forwards, into the flames.

He could stay. He could wait there, on the shuttle, he could make up some excuse as to why he could sit and watch as the world around him glowed. He could witness the looks of disapproval of his team members around him, looks being given by people who he was sure didn’t even know his name. He could receive looks from those who did. Prince. Somnus. Disappointed glances from them felt like a worse possibility somehow, one that he didn’t want to feel weighing him down inside his chest. He could stay. Or he could stand and walk. And possibly die, or get injured, or die from those injuries.

The options weren’t good. But he’d choose pain over disappointed eyes every time.

Chapter Text

“I was mortified by the prospect of becoming hopelessly trapped in someone else's story.”

-Lionel Shriver.

"Hey! Hey! There's someone in there!"

Virgil's voice cracked, fading out, but a woman who's name he didn't know- she hadn't been at the meeting- still turned to face him. He had seen her in the shuttle mere minutes ago and all her smiles and jokes she had offered the group were gone now, replaced with a increasing panic that Virgil could tell would probably start passing to him any minute.

He tried to keep his focus on the static in his ear, using the sound as a constant in the collapsing world around him.

"Leave it! We have direct instructions to assist in the removal of civilians that have been rescued from buildings- we do not put ourselves at risk.”

Thinking that was dumb, Virgil turned away to head into the building anyway, only for someone to grab his arm.

”It’s not worth it,” the operative snarled, gripping onto him tight. “Do you want to get yourself killed?” The white noise made it hard to concentrate on her words, cracklings flames turning her eyes red. “Listen- Virgil, right? You’re smart, aren’t you? Please listen to the orders.”

Virgil didn’t remember her. But if she truly knew him then why hadn’t she figured out that her words were useless? He tugged his arm away. He didn’t bother to ask for her help, or her permission as he turned back to the house, where he had seen someone standing in the window.

They weren’t supposed to run into burning buildings, Virgil knew that. Virgil ignored that. Purposely.

All of the houses were burning- this planet had relied on mainly wood based materials to build, it seemed- but there was one that stood alone in the flames, that had no help being sent inside. Whether it was by choice or just that the fire crews numbers were too small, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he would have to be the help.

The already unpleasant heat grew scorching as he entered the house, calling for the face he had seen in one of the windows. The air was starting to grow heavy with ash, Virgil pressing mouth to jacket in an attempt to breathe clearer. It barely made a difference.

"Help... me.” The ghosts of words reached his ears through the cracking of both the fires and the white noise. He passed a photo. Two people. Two people to find. The voice rang out again- he was close, and the affirmation spurred him on, deeper into the smoke, smelling unsettlingly like burnt timber. Every time he head the snapping of wood followed by the thud of it hitting the floor he froze, praying to anyone or anything that might be listening to not let one hit him on the head. Virgil didn't know how long he had so when he fumbled through the darkened room with almost useless eyes, resisting the urge to cough and breathe in tainted air, and found a figure collapsed on the floor, his heart lept. One down. He heaved off the beam that had fallen, trapping them, knocking them out. He could only hope he hadn't been too late.

He let go of his jacket's collar to hoist the figure into his arms, not pausing to tell them it would be alright in fear of breathing in more of the smog than was necessary.

The journey out was slow- painfully slow, for he had no arms to guide him, and all the while his mind was screaming to get out, to hurry up, to find the other person.

When he eventually stumbled out the door and to his teammates, gasping and breathing as deeply as he could to allow clean air to fill his lungs, ears free of the sound of snapping wood, his eyes flittered down to the body lying in his arms as he lowered them to the floor. A paramedic was suddenly kneeling at his side, ready to take them away, but that didn't stop Virgil from getting a good look at the unconscious figure lying there on the ash covered grass.

Her eyelashes were curling over in a way that no makeup brand could ever hope to achieve, tinted green at the edges. Skin was following suit, a sage green that appeared much more subdued than its normal shade, he was sure. The darkness of her fringe didn't serve to cover the gash that crossed her forehead, and the second graduate grimaced at the dark blue stain of her blood. Her humanoid figure was familiar, save for the sharpened appearance of the teeth poking out of her opened mouth, and the extra fingers that lay limply on the ground, each nail that had been shimmering an angry scarlet slowly growing lighter, into a milky white to show an unsubconsious act of peace. She had been in danger, but it was as if she could sense her movement to safety. Virgil could sense his face falling as she was taken away to whatever passed for a hospital on this planet, watching her disappear in the throngs of busy people.

The fire could have left her in ruin. There were many here who were just like her, so why weren’t they being helped? Why bother sending a whole squadron of trained officers to assist if they weren’t supposed to fill the gaps in the planet’s defence systems? It made no sense. None. Surely the Chairman hadn’t signed off on this, hadn’t refused to allow them to save lives. Surely he cared about saving lives. A new feeling of discomfort grew, demanding attention that right now, Virgil didn’t have time to give.

So away it was pushed, into the back of his brain where he would only reclaim it from once he had the time, or the nerve, to consider the possibility that the Roman’s father wasn’t all smiles and pride for his son. Now was just not that time.

Ignoring the questions being sent his way, he didn't even glance at the speaker before holding his breath and darting back into the burning house a second time. When greeted with smoke that had thickened in a mere minute, pouring out of the house like water would over the edge of a jagged cliff that turns the aqua blue a frothing, churning white, he didn't stop though his limbs were stiffening in fear and making moving blindly near impossible. With every second that slipped between his grasp the panic rose in his chest, and he couldn't help but shout out to whoever he was searching for, if only to release some of the pressure trapped inside him. His hands trailed over a smooth surface that rose upwards, and he climbed the stairs, head bowed as low as it would go till he reached the second floor. He called again, easier this time as less smoke had found its way upstairs.

"Can I come out yet?”

A small sage face peeked out at him from the other side of the of the hall, wide yellow eyes blinking, infused with fear. He almost sagged in relief, stepping swiftly across the landing, his mind all too willing to remind him of how many beams he had heard fall. The little child shrunk away, hiding away behind more of the door as he approached. Virgil attempted a smile, he did- but he feared it wouldn't be strong enough to make them feel safe, like the grins of the leads in action films always managed to pull off. He wondered if Roman might have been good at that.

"You can. Here, let me help you," he held out a hand and the child, a little boy that barely reached Virgil's knee, frowned as he stepped out onto the landing, keeping a hand on the door.

He regarded Virgil with nervous eyes. He had the same winding eyelashes. "But- but I don't know you, and Mummy said not to talk to strangers."

Words twisted in his throat, failing to sound out past his lips, leaving the two of them in a silence only broken by the insistent static. His was not good with children.

"Where is my Mummy? She told not to come out till she came for me but then she- she didn't and... and..." Bright yellow irises began to water, and Virgil cursed under his breath, acutely aware of time ticking down- and how long would it take for the stairs to cave in? They needed to go, but the boy was reaching for the door again, gripping it tightly, a thumb tinted with a dot of blue resting in his mouth. Oh dear. He was going to cry. He was going to cry, and he didn't know how to deal with a bawling kid, and the time was still ticking, it was always ticking, and the longer they waited the more likely it was that-

"Virgil, can you hear me? Virgil!" A voice cut out the static in his ear, not even trying to appear calm. "Somnus alerted me- something about you running into a burning building, please tell me you weren’t that stupid!”

“I’m sorry Deceit, but I needed to-“

“I don't care about why you’re there. You need to get out before the entire place collapses."

His panicked thoughts interrupted, he looked back down the landing, before returning his gaze to the small child with shining eyes.

"I'm on my way, Deceit. Give me a minute." A sigh on the other end. One of... relief?

Then the white noise was back, reappearing as quickly as it had left. With a sense of newfound calm, Virgil knelt in front of the boy, still holding out his hand. He refused to count the seconds they were losing in his head, as much as he wanted to, instead smiling brighter this time. "Mum sent me to get you, okay? She asked me to tell you to be brave, can you do that for me?" He waited, trying not to flinch as he heard a sharp crack of wood, affecting him as deeply as if it was a gash to himself, not the house. Slowly, the boy let go of the door, sliding his small glowing hand into Virgil's.

"I'm already brave. Mummy calls me her little warrior." Virgil began to lead him along, never letting go of his hand, wincing at the blast of heat rising to engulf them from the first floor. "But I'm not so little, see?” He craned his neck as they walked, glancing at Virgil to make sure he was watching. He tried his best to look impressed. Keeping the kid’s mind off of the chilling sound of snapping wood seemed the best way to go.

His issue of getting through the flames a third time was lodged in his own head however, and no amount of chatter that the young child bestowed upon his static filled ears could shake it. It wasn’t realistic to hope that help would be waiting for them, or to hope that the fire had magically developed a conscience and decided that, actually, it didn’t want to be responsible for any more deaths today.

He shouldn’t have wished that this third journey through the house standing aflame would be somehow easier, because the fire could have only spread more in the time he spent upstairs, could have only claimed what little there was left that resisted the fire that wanted to swallow it all up. He shouldn’t have pretended that it wasn’t going to hurt, that the flames destined to coil around his ankles would have no effect, but he didn’t know how to keep taking steps forwards unless he lied to himself about the pain that was going to come. He was already in pain. His eyes stung and his lungs burned like a red-hot rod of glowing metal was pressing against them, every step towards fresh air and hope was agony. The only way he could keep doing it was if he blocked the truth from ever taking form as a thought in his head, that the worst was over, and he could stop anticipating the pain.

The boy whose hand he gripped coughed as a result of the smoke, it had discovered that there was more air to push away and exist in its place, finally rising to the second level of the house and Virgil was reminded of the child’s unburnt skin, his pain-free steps, just as they reached the top of the staircase, ready to descend.

Virgil squeezed his hand once, too afraid of opening his mouth to ready the boy of what was to come. He thought of the mother, lying in the grass, unable to awaken and get help for her son, unable to run in and save him herself- and it was that thought that gave him the will to push through, to walk down into the murky hall and try to find the light. He kept the boy closer to his side than was necessary, often the two bumped into one another- but he was terrified of the alternative, losing his grip on his hand, losing him with no sight at hand to find him again.

This was his chance to save lives. This was his moment to shine.

The shuttleride back was noticeably quieter. Virgil didn’t care for that all too much.

Of course, the yellow lights still flickered overhead, casting the operatives with a glow that left them looking positively sick. There was movement to his right but Virgil’s gaze refused to leave the sight of his silent teammates, not even when he felt a figure drop into the empty seat next to his own, their shoulders brushing. He was about to mention it, or perhaps avoid an interaction he didn’t want by just shuffling away when-

“I don’t see that kind of bravery everyday. I mean you were stupid, but brave too.”

It was Somnus' voice that spoke, of that Virgil was sure, despite the tone being softer than what he thought the man capable of, and the fact that the sniper was leaning into him came as a surprise as well. However now it wasn’t as unwelcome as a strangers touch. Virgil’s response was to finally turn his head away from the operatives, neck now stiff, only to find silver eyes - that were tinted a dirty gold by the influence of the yellow lights - waiting for him. He cursed mentally at his flushing cheeks which had only arisen from the compliment and the surprise.

”I’m sure you- well, I didn’t actually see you but I’d like to think you were brave too.”

Virgil watched as it took a while for the sniper’s widened eyes to return to normal, if not a little more at ease. “You really don’t know me at all, do you newbie? My job doesn’t require bravery,” he said as he raised an arm, as sickly shaded as the rest of him. “All I need is a steady hand.”

Virgil swallowed, embarrassment sinking away while he observed the man who had come to sit as his side for reasons he didn’t know. Somnus no longer had eyes for him, his unsettling golden gaze turned onto his own fingers which were clenched into a fist so tight Virgil was sure it had to hurt. Thinking of no better alternative he reached out for that hand, his own skin no better than the rest, entwining their fingers together when Somnus' grasp went slack from surprise.

”It does. You need bravery to do something like that.”

The sniper sighed, trying to take his leave and end the discussion but Virgil was stupid, and just a tad reckless after coming out of a burning building alive so he tugged on the hand he held till Somnus sunk back down to his seat. Virgil waited. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to try and leave again, he relaxed, drawing away his hand, failing to notice how the sniper was leaning on him a little heavier than before.

”Virgil, you don’t...” He trailed off, dark eyebrows drawn together on his face.

”Hey, you didn’t call me newbie that time,” Virgil quipped, eager to change the subject and leave the disagreement behind them. Didn’t want this guy to realise how terrible of a potential friend he could be just yet. Now that would be stabbing himself in the back. “I must be doing something right.”

Thankfully, Somnus played along. Either he was very good at hiding his hatred towards Virgil, or he actually just didn’t mind his company. The second possibility baffled him. “I don’t know about that. Just... don’t make a habit of running into fire, and we’ll be just fine.”

Chapter Text

 "For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first."

-Suzanne Collins

The clock hung on the wall opposite the bed, but it was in need of replacement, the hands forever frozen on eleven and two until someone decides to come and replace the batteries. The nurse had left her watch on his table instead, and Virgil found that he could pass his time like this, counting the moments between the repetitive beeps it gave off. Too bad for him that Roman didn’t quite agree.

It was a rare sight, seeing the boy in red so unsettled in the chair he sat in, dragged up next to the bed. He had probably never needed to come here, Virgil realised, and the fact that he was here now made something stir in his gut.

He had been there long enough to no longer need constant surveillance, and certainly long enough to be able to ask if he could get discharged, but Virgil thought he would treat himself - wanting to allow himself a few more minutes of safety before he went back out to face the eyes, words, and fists of his peers.

"I don’t understand.” Roman’s brows were knitted together, and Virgil watched his fingers dance along his thighs. “I could just tell them to stop, you know that, right?”

“What? And lose my first decent 'sparring' partners in months? I don’t think so.“ Roman mumbled something about how Virgil had rejected all of his sparring offers so far, so maybe he should think about his response harder next time. Virgil’s response was somewhere between a wheeze and an acceptable portrayal of laughter. He felt strangely optimistic even as his lungs ached slightly inside his chest. “Anyway. You should see the other guys.”

“That’s the point, Sanders. I did see them.” Roman shook his head, hair shifting in front of his eyes momentarily before he pushed it out of the way, fixing Virgil with what must have what he thought was a good look of disappointment. “I heard them bragging about how weak you were - like you didn’t even put up a fight. 

He noted Virgil’s silence. “You... you didn’t fight back at all, did you?”

Virgil shuffled against his pillows, Roman thankfully toning down the nice guy act just enough to resist standing to plump them. “They would have won either way, and it’s not like I wanted to give them any more reasons to hate me. Not that it would make much difference,” he murmured, eyes conveniently drifting down and out of Roman’s line of view. He lifted an arm, purple bruises dappling the pale, pale skin. “I’ve already screwed up enough in their eyes to justify these, anyway.”

His visitor's eyebrows drew together, and something twinged in Virgil's chest, a different kind of pain to before. Sadness didn't sit well on the pretty boy's face. "Come on, Altham," he quipped, attempting to bring some form of calm back to his features. "You know I could have taken 'em if I really wanted to."

No reply, just a pair of sorrowful eyes that he really really hated. Virgil held out a hand. Surprisingly, Roman gave him his, shifting fingers stilling after entwining with Virgil's own.

"I wish you'd just let me sit next to you," his only friend began, and Virgil let his eyes close, content to listen to the concern in Roman's voice, and wonder how and when it had got there. "Those people would probably be your friends by now. Our friends."

Virgil pondered again about asking to be discharged. He could take a nap first. That sounded very appealing right now.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Roman tugged at his hand, and Virgil squeezed his back in reply, running his thumb over the wrist. "I'm trying to be nice over here, I'd appreciate some courtesy in return."

"But where's the fun in that? I for one, am going back to sleep. I'd appreciate it if you could be quiet."

He heard a quiet huff, and the soft scratches of Roman's chair against the floor. He drifted off, one hand considerably warmer than the rest of his body, as Roman had yet to let go.

Virgil allowed his fingers to twist together in his lap, listening to chattering voices as the seats in the pit began to fill up with cadets and graduates that had been stationed here alike. He didn't know quite how to feel about that- training in one place for so long, only to be denied the opportunity to leave the academy to protect and explore the rest of the universe.  If Roman hadn't chosen him, would that have been his fate? Most likely. But there was plenty of time to think about that later, when his mind would oh so kindly be keeping him awake at night, just like it had since the day everything had changed into something new that was incredibly difficult to wrap his head around.

He heard laughter behind him, but chose not to turn in his chair. He - along with the rest of the special ops - sat on the front row closest to the stage where the Chairman and his business men were filing onto with practised ease. There was no hiding at the back for Virgil anymore. He missed that sometimes. It was one of the things that had crossed his mind during his late night processing sessions. The lack of privacy he had, the reality that he now lived in where if he turned around in his chair right now, too many pairs of eyes would be staring back.

But he had to remember the positives. It really wasn't all that bad. At least he was noticed now. At least his efforts were no longer going to be cast aside in favour of congratulating his partner instead, who was sat a few chairs to his left. For too long as a student he had worked and struggled, until he had become a worthy equal - only to be ignored. But now he'd done something that surely had to be recognised. He'd saved lives. He'd been the one to run into that building (rather foolishly, Somnus was quick to tell him) to find those people. He'd gotten them out. Of course, it wasn't for the glory. He'd done what was right. But Virgil wasn't going to sit there and say that recognition of his actions wouldn't be nice.

He didn't pay attention to what the Chairman was saying exactly, his mind awash with thoughts of proving to people that he could be someone worth knowing. Be more than just the second graduate, the one that the Prince had chosen. He could be his own person and people would like that - it was a novel idea, and one that made a smile creep onto his face because this was a good day. Nothing could ruin his mood.

"-and of course, there is someone who deserves a special mention."

Virgil could hardly sit still, he was so excited. Would the Chairman think him worthy enough of a codename now? Could he lie awake at night and have one positive thought swirling around his head alongside his worries - that he was equal to Roman in every way, and nothing could change that? If someone were to look at him now it would be impossible not to see just how goddamn happy he was. He had every reason to be. Even the worry about being stuck in one place seemed insignificant now, because everything was about to become a whole lot more bareable. 

"I have here the latest A.S.O mission report, and it reads that someone performed an incredibly extraordinary feat. Please, everybody join me in congratulating our very own Prince!"

The crowd erupted with cheers and chattering - and why wouldn't they? As far as they knew their Prince had done something incredible, so it was only natural that they would want to congratulate him as such. Those that could reach Roman school his hand, clapped him on the back smiling all the while as he made his way onto the stage to stand next to his father. Nobody had asked him to do that. Nobody seemed to care.

Somebody behind Virgil clapped particularly loud, right next to his ear, and it was like a shot had gone off, bringing him into hyper focus. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't stand, even though he suspected he was the only one not doing so. It was most likely that he was getting frowns for it, but he felt like he would only fall over if he tried. His mind had been working to slow, Chairman's words giving him a sense of momentary unease. But that's all it was - momentary. His was back in the here and now, and the truth was like a knife to the gut. They had chosen Roman again. They had seen what he had done, and yet they had decided to tell the world about how fucking fantastic Roman was again.

Why did this keep on happening to him? When was he ever going to be enough?

"My son has achieved something remarkable. He single handedly went into a burning building, in an attempt to save the lives of two of the planet's locals, coming out successful.” The Chairman paused to grin as the cheering only increased in volume. “Roman, you have not been a graduate for long but you’re already making me proud.”

Virgil’s newly found focus drained away. Was he clenching his fingers? Were they slack on his seat? He couldn’t tell. The world could have turned upside down and inside out and Virgil would have been no closer to noticing anything because of how suddenly numb he felt. What the Chairman just said wasn’t right. That wasn’t true. Somebody had made a mistake - that wasn’t Roman’s victory, it was his. Those people were applauding and cheering for the wrong bloody person. Roman was up there, having not yet made a move to speak and Virgil here in the pit surrounded by awestruck fans who never checked their facts - believing every word being fed to them just because they so desperately wanted it to be true, to have a hero they could show off to the rest of the world. Virgil could see their hands moving, clapping, but he could barely hear them at all. That didn’t matter. So what if he felt like he was floating, watching someone else get credit for what he had done. He could have dealt with the disappointment if the Chairman hadn’t mentioned what he’d done at all, but no - giving his victory to Roman? That was going too far. It was too much.

Virgil realised then, that the Prince was watching him sit there. He wondered how long he’d had eyes for him. It was kind of hard to tell that somebody’s watching you when a consuming rage leaves you numb to everything. Because he was angry, he wasn’t going to deny that. He was livid. And Roman still hadn’t looked away.

Maybe he was going to correct them. Virgil allowed himself the smallest bit of hope that his partner could sort this all out. If anyone could, it would be Roman. Because - he had to have known that a mistake had been made. Roman hadn’t saved two lives. Somebody else deserved the thanks. Somebody else was going to go up onto the stage as soon as Roman decided to fix everything.

He had a contemplative gleam in his eyes as he looked away from Virgil, who hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath. 

“I only did what everyone else would have done,” Roman said as he smiled at the crowd. The previously silent applause now thundered in Virgil’s ears.

When the assembly came to an end, those with assignments gathered together to ready themselves for departure, more groups of graduates lined up to receive orders, and the young cadets that Virgil had seen so often not so long ago had no respect for silence or their elders as they dashed across the room to get to (and soon complain about) their classes. By the time Virgil had pushed through them all, apologising whenever he could, both the Chairman and his son had left the stage, and subsequently the room.

And Virgil knew that was it. There was no point tracking them down to try and make this right. Even if he did, the mission report, the incorrect official mission report had already been shared, and no-one would want to hear about it again. No-one would want to believe him, either, they would clamour and frown and say how dare he try and make their precious Prince look bad, how dare he even try and say that he had been lying.

But he had lied, and that was the truth of it. Roman had looked him dead in the eyes and lied to absolutely everyone. Did he know that Virgil was the one who deserved the credit? Or had he just suspected that Virgil carried doubts about the whole thing? It didn't matter, in the end. In either scenario, his answer would just be to lie anyway.

So Virgil stood in front of the empty stage, surrounded by people but utterly alone. There was nothing he could do about this. Nobody he could turn to. He knew he should try to move on, to keep on striving for greatness and recognition, the only things he had ever really wanted. Just for someone to look at him and see that he was a good person, capable of incredible things if he were to be given the chance. The empty platform almost seemed to mock him now, as he knew how unlikely it was he would ever stand up there again, that his graduation had been the one and only time he would be recognised for something. And that realisation made his eyes sting - tears threatening to run down his cheeks - because the only reason he had been up there was because Roman had made it so. It wasn't for his own achievements. It was only for Roman, saying his name instead of hundreds of others.

That was what got him onto the stage. One. Single. Name. Something that took no effort on Roman' part - and it was truly a kick to the gut that any reward for Virgil's efforts had been stolen from him, and it was because of Roman too.

Virgil furiously rubbed his arm against his eyes as he once again pushed through the crowd of impressed waiting students. He wasn't going to let anybody see him cry. He wasn't going to give them any other reasons to think Virgil unworthy of their great Prince, like he was a shadow dampening Roman's golden brightness, or like he was some ugly stain on Roman's codenamed jacket that needed to be scrubbed off. Virgil couldn't entirely say that he wouldn't agree with them if they did, though. Roman made him so, so mad - a hands clenched, head spinning kind of madness that threatened to overwhelm him completely as he finally made it out of the hall - but right now he did feel like the absolute worst. He barely made it two steps back in the direction of his dorm before his knees gave out, his body having apparently spent of all its energy trying to understand what exactly was going on. It was rather safe to say it had failed there.

Leaving the sickbay was rather bittersweet. As much as Virgil liked the peace and quiet, and as much as he’d miss the pillows that were softer than any he’d ever felt in the dorms, there was only so long he could spend in one room before turning a little crazy. Roman had come to check up on him the day before, and Virgil had almost admitted to being glad for the company. Obviously it was time to get out of there.

Someone appeared in the corner of his eye. He turned to meet them - and it was Roman, quickly dropping his concerned expression for something totally unbothered and neutral. If the fact that Virgil had fallen asleep holding his hand that one time bothered him, he wasn't showing it. Virgil was glad, which puzzled him, but he was glad all the same. He probably just didn't want to screw any of this up and lose his best - and only friend.

Roman leant against the wall close to him, his head inclined to the side. Virgil hadn't noticed, having only seen Roman from a chair, but the last few days had done wonders for his height. He could now easily look down on Virgil, who found himself stretching up onto the balls of his feet almost unconsciously in an effort to make the difference just a little bit less. 

Roman's lip quirked a little. "You need any company?"

Virgil pretended to think about it, starting to walk away, knowing Roman would push off the wall and follow him anyway. "Sure. I doubt anyone else is going to ask me."

He paused when fingers curled around his arm, stopping them both in the middle of the empty corridor. He hadn't expected that. Roman opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again - obviously unsure of his words, but Virgil waited patiently, definitely not paying more attention than what was average to the warmth of Roman's hand, or how soft it was compared to the fists his friends had hit him with. 

"I... spoke to them, Virgil." Roman was watching his face intently, like he was looking for signs to tell him whether he had done good or not. "Told them not to even think about harming you again. I know you said it was fine, but they were always training against you with the intention of hurting you - I couldn't stand by and do nothing when I knew I could do something about it."

His grip on Virgil's arm had tightened considerably and whether Roman was aware or this or not, Virgil wasn't sure.

But he could tell that the pretty boy was nervous. Extremely so. Maybe underneath all of the attitude and the jokes, Roman was just the same as he was - desperate to not lose a friend. So even though Roman had listened when Virgil had told him not to do something and then gone and done it anyway, he couldn't find it in his heart to be mad at him. Not when he was holding onto him so tight, like he was afraid Virgil would rip his arm away and leave him, not when he was obviously upset about all of this, more so than Virgil had thought he was.  Roman had done it for him. He had been worried about him.

That knowledge made something warm bloom in Virgil's chest, a welcome change from the sickbay that had always been just the slightest bit too cold for Virgil, who had been happy for the silence it  provided, but found he could do without having to burrow under his duvet each night and try his hardest not to imagine warm arms holding him till he drifted off into sleep.

Virgil pushed that thought from his mind. Now was not the time. But the warmth persevered inside of him, a fondness for his friend that would not so easily be ignored but Virgil was trying his damnedest to. He couldn't have Roman thinking he was upset with him, after all. He took the hand that kept them connected off of his shoulder, but gave it squeeze in an effort to offer Roman some kind of reassurance that no, he didn't hate him. Everything was fine. They were fine. 

"Then that means I'm stuck fighting against you, does it?" Virgil began to walk again, dragging Roman behind him. The warm feeling in his chest flared up again, determined to not be disregarded, when he felt a hand squeeze his tightly in response. He didn't have to look to know Roman had a smile on his face again. Good. "I suppose I can make that work."

Virgil heard voices from around the corner, and pulled his hand back to his side before could Roman did it first. If asked, he wouldn't say that he was cold now - but the chilled room he'd spent days in did come to mind again, and that definitely had something to do with the fact that he no longer had Roman's warm palm pressed against his. God, he needed to get over himself.

This was bad. This was really really bad. Virgil's mind was a mess and he didn't know whether he wanted to go back to his room and punch something, or collapse into bed and maybe cry. Then proceed to sleep for twenty four hours even though the day had only just begun.

Yeah. He was pathetic, and there was nothing he could do to fix this, no way he could get justice of any kind, so sleep it was. An angry sleep, where he could dream of punching Roman as many times as he wanted.

"Am I possibly right in thinking you might need some company?"

An amused voice broke through his thoughts, startling Virgil and making him raise his head. An extraordinary feat, really, as that was the direction the bright lights came from and he did have the absolute worst headache.

Remy stood before him, darkened shades hiding his eyes, his caramel hair appearing a soft gold due to the lights that Virgil hated so. 

"No," he huffed, quite content to forego his sleep-and-punch plan if it meant he could stay hunched up on the ground. Preferably with his eyes closed. "I mean this in the nicest way possible - please go away."

Remy, annoyingly, didn't leave. Damn. 

"Who spat in your coffee this morning?" A hand was extended down to him, and Virgil considered the pros and cons of unprofessionally swatting said hand away. He was moping, could Remy not see that? Somebody that used to be his best fucking friend had stabbed him in the back - whether he knew it or not - and Virgil thought it was well in his rights to feel a little pissed off.  

"I'm really not in the mood for jokes, Somnus. Please leave me alone." He didn't want to be mean. He genuinely liked Remy, and that was the problem, because Virgil knew firsthand where having friends got him. He didn't want to go through that again, not with someone who joked and smiled and may not know what he's going through but still want to help all the same. So, rudeness it was.

"I've told you before, you don't need to call me that." The outstretched hand disappeared, and Virgil thought for a moment that he'd won. But then he was being hoisted up and he resisted the urge to yelp indignantly which would bring more unwanted attention to himself. "And I'm not in the mood for your bad attitude, kid."

He placed Virgil down, but gave him no time to complain before he was grabbing his hand and dragging him down the corridor. Virgil's brain, instead of coming up with objections, helpfully supplied him with the thought that Remy had very soft hands.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your superiors?"

"Not when said superior isn't leaving me to brood in peace, no."