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It had been something like forty three days, at least of what Gladio could discern, since he last saw Ignis: by the orange flow of campfires, in the stark shadows cast by anti-daemon floodlights. Fully illuminated under the cold light in Takka’s Pit Stop, Ignis was an almost unfamiliar sight. With only one barstool separating them, Gladio could better see the creases beneath his eyes where scars hadn’t staked their claim, his pallid complexion from sleepless nights or the halogen lights—Gladio couldn’t tell—full lips chapped with neglect. There were some things that haven’t changed. The guy still forgot to look out for himself sometimes, probably even moreso out on his own all the time.
Ignis’s head tilted up towards Gladio and Gladio jolted up on his stool.
“It’s been quite a while hasn’t it?” he asked.
Gladio sat up straighter, hitching his old worn leather jacket tighter around him, holding up the collar briefly to sniff. He had giving it a thorough scrubbing the hours before, but it never hurt to check.
“Probably. Hard to keep track of the days really,” Gladio said. He leaned his elbows back on the counter behind him, facing out to where Prompto talked animatedly with another hunter. His heart pounded in his chest. Talcott was sure of the man he was bringing back, but years of false claims and vague tip offs have only ever brought them disappointment.
Ignis rose from his spot and took the seat directly beside Gladio. Gladio’s heart raced faster, thumping louder a beat that’s never changed since moment he first knew Ignis.
“Do you think it’s really him?” Ignis asked.
Gladio moved his elbow away from Ignis, giving the man as much space as he needed. “Only one way to find out really.”
Silence stretched between them. Keeping Ignis’s profile in the corner of his eye, Gladio turned away, bouncing his leg, his foot tapping against the cheap linoleum. If Talcott’s lead turned out to be a dud, it’d be more endless days of fighting and waiting, parting ways until Gladio could conjure up another excuse to break Ignis’s attention from some new lead he was chasing.
A gloved hand was on his arm and Gladio’s heart stopped in his throat.
“It’ll be okay,” said Ignis, though his voice sounded unsure for the first time in the almost three decades Gladio’s known him.
“Yeah,” said Gladio. “It will.”
***
It would have hurt less if the empire had taken mercy on Insomnia and just razed the entire city to the ground.
They tread along the roads in solemn silence, save for the quiet sighs of recognition of old haunts and memories, until hordes of daemons summoned the cacophonies of battle. They fought through as they made their way to the base camp, passing an old alleyway that led to quiet pub Gladio while away with friends outside the inner circle, now blocked off with a collapsed apartment building. He had been there, two or three nights before they departed for Noctis’s wedding, the faces of those friends now long gone. A short walk away from the collapsed apartment block was an ice cream parlour. They stayed open until late, a perfect place for Gladio to wait with Iris, in those evenings where she insisted on going home with their father. Rare evenings that Gladio would be grateful for, years later, the ice cream parlour signs faded with time, the glass all smashed in, the metal bins once brimming with flavour and colour now rotted over with rust.
Eventually they reached the familiar sign of the LR Citadel Station, making quick but arduous work of the Nagarani that had made home of its entrance. They caught their breaths for a short moment at the top of the station stairs. Once a bustling hub, probably the busiest station at rush hour back in the day, now desolate and abandoned. Ignis paused at the railing, head twitching up at the sound of Gladio’s heavy footsteps, but Gladio kept walking, past the spot where he and Ignis first agreed they would meet, some fourteen, fifteen years earlier, “ to show you around, maybe get to know each other better?”
A decision that had sent Gladio into his free fall.
They made their way underground, bodies scattered along the flooded tiles, some stacked amongst pillars where Gladio would once wait for his school friends, already running more than half an hour late to homeroom. They rounded the corner, where a newsstand used to be, one of many around the network of tunnels of Insomnia’s intricate subway, the same newsstand where the owner had given Talcott a free treat with the paper he had helped Gladio buy for his grandfather.
***
The Marshal was always a hardass, but time had softened him. It had to be the only explanation, with the way he had let Gladio get away with mistakes and wrong moves out in the field, though rare as they were.
“Feels almost like old times doesn’t it,” said Cor, though the weight in his voice lacked the joy his sentiments should deliver.
Gladio let out a puff of air. He took a swig of the flat root beer they had kept stashed in their base camp, along with an amalgam of stale but long-lasting food items to sustain them through their search. Across the room from them, Ignis spoke quietly with one of the stationed Glaives.
“You’ve sorted out all unfinished business, I take it?” asked Cor.
“Yeah? I don’t really think there’s much else left for me.”
Cor raised a brow then gestured at Ignis with a subtle nod.
“I dunno what you’re talking about man,” said Gladio.
“I’m just saying. I don’t know what’s worse,” said Cor. He let out a tired sigh. “Dying with regrets or living long enough to be saddled by them.”
“Never thought you the type to mess with people’s affairs.”
"So there is something to mess with?"
Gladio grunted, turning away, bottle to his pouted lips, having met his defeat.
"You and I both know you of all people don't have the luxury to hold back from anyone," said Cor. “Take it from me. None of you boys do.”
They carried out the tasks the Glaives requested of them for a few nights more, taking them to old roads that made up Gladio's drivers license test, past the old arcade where they often collected their King and best friend from, along old bus stops they frequented when they wanted to travel low profile, now all bent out of shape, the shelters hardly intact, Gladio would've missed the last bus stop that he once committed to memory: it sheltered them from the summer rain, as the press of Ignis’s lips ignited his veins, even more difficult to erase the pain of Ignis pushing him away, at exactly an arm’s length.
***
“How does it all look?” Ignis finally said.
“Do you really wanna know?” said Gladio.
“Of course.”
“Most of the structures are still intact. I almost envy you really,” Gladio said with a hollow chuckle. “It would’ve been nice if my last memory of Insomnia was how we left it.”
There was a quiet hum from Ignis.
“On second thought, don’t tell me,” said Ignis. Their chatter, no matter how quiet, caught the attention of goblins further up the road. “Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we.” With a flick of his wrist, Ignis’s daggers flashed between his fingers. “You can tell me all about it after. You can show me around, like you did last time.”
***
Coming face to face with an Astral of all things, there would have been no better way for a Shield of the King to go. But the gods, in their all knowing glory, had other plans, and Gladio was for now grateful to carry out his duty to his King, but there was no telling what other ordeals awaited them inside the Citadel, the looming building they once called home.
Gladio’s broadsword had become near weightless on his back, accustomed to its weight from hauling it around Eos for the better part of ten years, and it should be one less weight still now that they had the power to summon and stow their weapons away back into the Armiger at will.
They stood ready, catching their breaths at the base of the steps to the Citadel, long deprived of activity and life, and the weight on Gladio’s shoulders could not be any heavier. Noctis walked ahead of them and Prompto bounded after him, with Ignis shortly behind.
Gladio walked alongside him.
“Tell it to me straight Captain,” Gladio said, his voice lowered. “What’re our chances?”
Ignis’s shoulders sank, though there was a faint smile on his face at the sound of the familiar nickname.
“If I knew, it would be remiss of me not to tell you.”
“That bad huh?” Gladio chuckled, hoping that would ease the crease in Ignis’s brow and lighten the sag of his shoulders.
It didn’t.
“Hey Iggy,” said Gladio. “Can I tell you somethin’?”
“Aren’t you doing so now?”
“You’re hilarious,” said Gladio, punching Ignis’s arm. Ignis seemed to flinch at the contact, the closest they’ve been voluntarily in months, but his smile remained as he placed a hand over the spot that met Gladio’s fist. Gladio continued. “I mean it. I gotta tell you something.”
"Yes?" said Ignis, hand still on his own arm.
"We won’t know what we might find in there,” Gladio began. He tightened his grip along the hilt of his sword.
“No one said it would ever be easy.”
“I know,” Gladio sighed. “I know. We’ve always been prepared for this. And that’s why, before the end. There's something I have to say."
He wet his chapped lips. His heart had never stopped racing, never once given reprieve since they left Hammerhead. What did he even want to say?
Ignis stopped in his tracks, turned on his heel to face Gladio, his smirk having dropped, mouth schooled into a stern line.
“No,” said Ignis firmly.
"Whaddaya mean no ?” Gladio choked out, “I haven’t even said anything yet."
"No as in no, I don't want to hear it ," said Ignis.
Gladio blinked. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again, his mind racing from one thought to another, rifling through to find any explanation for Ignis’s words. Further ahead, Noctis seemed to have noticed the two of them lagging behind, but made no effort to find out why.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Ignis continued, slowly, like he was choosing his next words carefully. “You’ll get your piece in. Get your feelings off your chest.” He shifted his weight to one leg. “There would be no regrets left for you then.”
Even though he knew Ignis couldn’t see his shame, Gladio bowed his head.
“Without even considering how l would feel,” said Ignis, his voice trailing away.
Gladio looked back up at Ignis, his stern expression relaxing to something more unsure.
“I didn’t—” Gladio began.
“No. No, you didn’t. I know your types are wont to living for dying.” Ignis hugged himself tighter. “But I know of the pain that puts you through as well. You don’t have to do the same. Not anymore.”
“Iggy, you know neither of us can guarantee that.”
“We can’t lose more than we already have. So you’re going to have to try,” Ignis said. “Can you promise me that?”
Readjusting his sword in his grip, Gladio bit down on his chapped lips. Releasing a shuddered exhale, he said, “Okay.”
“Good.” Ignis turned and began climbing up the steps again. “You can get my answer then.”