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Janus was pacing.
Of course, caught in the act, he would’ve denied it. He was Denial, after all. And Deceit, Dishonesty, Dupery and other words starting with D (shut up, Remus). He was always in control, always three moves ahead and...
Janus let out a barely audible sigh as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lying might be his function, but that lie was just too painful obvious.
He glanced at the gravestones surrounding him, but even if one of them had been vaguely chair-shaped, everything in this cemetery was completely soggy (including Janus), discouraging him from sitting.
The morbid unsettling unusual scenery didn't help him feel comfortable at all, but, well. That was the point, wasn't it?
Apologizing was so not in Janus’s nature habits that he’d been forced to ask for help, which he would never recover from had yet to recover from. The two people he had visited had been delighted to help him, something he wasn’t sure if he found disgusting dismaying or just strange.
First there was Emile Dr Picani. When Thomas had invented this character, Janus had instantly disliked him been dubious. No one really wanted to help others like that, it was always a mean to an end, generally a way to make money. Why would therapists want to help anyone? They benefited from the misfortunes of others!
But okay. Thomas himself had perhaps filmed this video partly for the money and the fame it brought him, in addition to the obvious pleasure he took in it (Janus could understand the appeal of pretending to be somebody else), but he also sincerely thought it would help others. And Thomas was the single most important person in existence, so...
And then Janus had been forced to meet this Dr. Picani.
In his defense, Janus had pretty much realized the extent of his mistake mistakes with Virgil by the time Remus decided to get involved. And, yes, when the personification of intrusive thoughts had to ask you to seek psychiatric help, it had to be bad.
Well, Remus hadn't exactly asked. It had been more like pushing Janus through a door that hadn't existed a few seconds earlier before slamming and locking said door behind him.
Janus winced at the memory.
At least the therapist had been civilized sympathetic. He hadn't even mocked Janus, despite him ending up sprawled out on the floor of his study, and had politely looked away until the deceitful Side found himself sulkily standing across from him. He had started by explaining that no one was ever forced to attend therapy, and that if Janus wasn't ready, it was understandable.
"But I want to get better," Janus had muttered.
Which was so unlike him that it had left him speechless. Admitting he was wrong was as foreign a concept as asking for help. The last few days must have shaken him more than he thought. Or getting pushed into the office had taken away what was left of his pride.
“Knowing that you’re not doing well is already a step in the right direction!” the doctor had kindly said.
With an exaggerated sigh, Janus sat down opposite to the Figment.
He had expected extremely general questions and little feedback, like conversing with an artificial intelligence, or an NPC, and like the characters created by the twins normally behaved. But Picani had surprised him with his level of... awareness? Consciousness? By the end of the first half hour, he was convinced that Logan had been involved in his creation. And if he came to appreciate Picani’s conversation and witticisms (Remus and Virgil were lovely, but neither of them were good debate adversaries, for diametrically opposed reasons), and if he asked Remus to install him permanently in the Imagination instead of recreating him between each session, it was his business and nobody else’s.
As Janus continued not to pace between the graves, he reviewed the main advice the therapist had given him. He doesn’t have to accept your apology immediately, or ever, had he said. He doesn’t even have to listen to your apology right away, if he isn’t ready. You’re never justified in deciding how others should feel. If he claims to be sad, or angry, there is a reason, and complaining about people being "too sensitive" only make things worse.
So yes, Picani had helped him more than he expected, and offered, over the course of the weeks, some valuable advice for Operation Apology. Which hadn't stopped Janus from giving Remus an earful after that first session, when he unlocked the door two hours later.
(At the same time, he had hated seeing Remus so unlike himself, silent and withdrawn and preoccupied, and would’ve done anything to get him back to normal. And he was also very worried about Virgil, alone in enemy unknown territory, forced to leave the house like this. He hated didn’t agree with the Core Sides, let alone the idea of Virgil abandoning them running away joining them, but that didn't stop him from hoping that they treated his little stormcloud well.)
The second person Janus had offered a visit to was Patton. Again, the fault laid on Remus.
Picani had been surprisingly helpful, but he didn't know Virgil personally. Janus had reluctantly settled decided to ask Remus for help. The meeting had been effective. It had only taken 20 seconds, three sentences and two suggestions for Janus to know exactly what to do.
Go ask anyone else.
Except, not just anyone. Roman was too proud, Logan too cold and Orange out of the question. Patton remained. Great.
Patton didn't like Janus, and that was mutual which was understandable. But he also represented Morality, and denying help to anyone, even to a horrible serpent a liar was not even an option for him. "I'm so proud of you, kiddo! It's very mature to apologize, and Virgil is going to be so happy!” (lie) (and he sincerely believed it).
Patton also had some good advice in his sleeve (“don’t worry Jan, I can guide you on the right path!”. Don’t beat around the bush, because Virgil represente the fear of things to come, and the goal was not to stress him more. State your wrongs, to show that you know what you're apologizing for.
Remind him that you love him he means a lot to you.
One of his most notable pieces of advice had been to make Virgil as comfortable as possible. "You're the one in the wrong, kiddo" (stop calling me kiddo, you and I are the parents). "It's okay, and healthy, for you to step out of your comfort zone a bit to apologize! It shows that you really mean it, and that you're willing to put in the effort.” (He was.) “And it's the other way around for Virgil: you've already caused him a lot of stress," (I know). "We wouldn't want to make him suffer more, would we? "
Which explains why Janus, in his bowler hat and carefully ironed black capelet, now found himself awkwardly standing in the middle of a damp graveyard. He very much regretted would rather have done this in the comfort of his office, sipping a cup of tea, or in court, or in an old library, but, well. According to Roman (who was somewhere close, keeping an eye on Virgil but not at hearing distance), this is where Virgil would be most comfortable.
Speaking of the devil.
Virgil entered the cemetery as he had entered Janus' life. Suspicious and hesitant, shoulders curled in and protected by a hoodie too big for him. Not much had changed, except for the hoodie and the fact that seeing him like that was much more painful than the first time for Janus.
“Hello, Virgil.”
The man curled up a little more, as if Janus had threatened to hit him, and okay. Ouch.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he asked, his slightly hoarse voice carefully devoid of emotion.
“Yes, if you don't mind. You can also change your mind anytime along the way, if that suits you. I won't hold you back.”
Virgil gave him a sidelong glance, as if trying to gauge him without making eye contact, and Janus shouldn't have been so anxious about a simple conversation.
"You're scared," Anxiety stated, positioning himself a few tombstones away from Janus.
Ah, yes. Janus and Patton weren't the only ones with detection abilities.
“And you're not overly tactful,” Janus replied, “but I guess I deserved it.”
"Get to it," Virgil grumbled.
“Ah, right, you dislike anticipation. Let's proceed. Uh, you got my letters.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you read them?”
“I opened them.”
“And...”
“Yes, Janus. I've read your letters,” he mumbled, as if pained to admit it.
Picani had been the first to suggest that Janus start mending his relationship with Virgil through written correspondence. “You hurt him.” Had he said. “He probably won't feel safe around you right away, and that's okay. He's more likely to agree to listen, or in this case to read, what you have to say if he can do it when and where it suits him.”
So he’d sat down with a sheet of paper. And, Janus was Deception. He was skilled with words. At first, it was just in his nature. It was a necessary feat to manage to lie convincingly. And then Patton – still called Morality back then - had started to grow more powerful. And, as Thomas was learning to be a good, honest person, scales had started to cover Janus. His eye and jaw had changed. He had yet to meet his host in Real Life, but he knew the time would come. And that he would needs to make up for his appearance, if he wanted to be listened to. He could silence others, but not force Thomas to listen, like Remus. Since then, he has been educating himself, reading about philosophy, carefully putting together his wardrobe.
And his words. But nothing could have prepared him to try to write letters to Virgil, with the weight of recent events between them.
“You could have skipped the niceties, you know.”
And Virgil certainly had a tendency to look at the ground, or at his hands, or at people's shoulders, but he hadn't looked Janus in the eye once since he arrived, and that was starting to be worrying.
"Well, it wasn't just small talk," Janus said cautiously, assuming Virgil was referring to the first part of his letters. “I would really, sincerely like to know if you are okay. And, well, you're probably not very interested in how I'm doing, and certainly not Orange, but I thought you'd like to hear about Remus.”
"I could have asked Roman for that," he muttered, but he also half-nodded, which Janus counted as a small victory.
“Yes, the twins seem to get along better lately, don't they?”
“What did I just say about small talk?”
And Janus had to hold back from laughing nervously, because he’d put on his little grumpy face that Janus loved, and that was such a Virgil thing and he missed him so much.
“Yes of course. So, Virgil. I represent, among other things, self-care.”
Virgil was good at hiding what he was really thinking, but not as good as Janus himself, who had time to catch his surprise before he quickly swept it under the rug of a blank face. The little storm didn't expect Janus to start like this.
Janus shook his head a little. Stop analyzing the situation and apologize.
“I cannot prevent it any more than you are able to stop looking for potential dangers. But that's no excuse. I should never have focused on myself so much that I didn't realize much you were hurting.”
For the first time, Virgil lifted his head and met Janus' gaze. Well, he had done it out of surprise, but it was better than nothing. "Patton told me some things," he explained.
“That must have been quite a conversation.”
“Oh, you can't imagine. He was surprisingly polite, all things considered.”
"Patton’s always nice," Virgil snapped immediately. He bristled like a wild cat, and it would have been cute if he wasn't standing up for one of the Core Sides.
“He is,” he agreed, “even with me. Back to my apology, I should have realized that you didn’t have enough to eat, that the house was making you nervous, and that the arguments were affecting you this way.”
He gulped a little. When Logan had explained that Virgil could only summon scary things, as if it was common knowledge, as if he was stating the obvious, Janus had almost lost his temper. How did Logic know that, and not Janus? He had spent the night analyzing everything he knew about Virgil in light of this new information. And crying.
“I should have known. Especially the night Orange slashed your cheek. I can't decently complain that you’re living with the Core Sides, if they were there for you more than I was. I focused too much on my own problems, and I am sorry for that.”
Virgil remained a little stunned for a few seconds, then recovered.
“Is that all?!’
“No, Virgil. I'm just getting started.”
“… Oh.”
“You have the right to pardon me for some things, but not others.”
“Okay. I forgive you for that one.”
And it was Janus' turn to be left speechless surprised. Because Virgil represented Anxiety, and he always hesitated at least a little bit before saying or doing anything, but he had forgiven Janus... Just like that?
"I was trying to hide it," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't want anyone to know about it. About me being… vulnerable. The Core Sides just happened to find me outside, hurt. I mean, yeah, you should probably have realized something was wrong, you’re deceit, but I was also trying to hide it from you, so…” He shrugged. “And you were also affected by all the arguments.”
“Not as much as you.” Virgil shrugged again. He seemed as uncomfortable as possible, but not to the point of running away.
"Picani has techniques to facilitate communication," Janus mentioned reluctantly. He would have preferred his therapy sessions to remain a secret, but that was asking too much of Remus. Virgil, fortunately, did not react much.
“Could come in handy. The Core are great at helping me with my problems, but talking about theirs, on the other hand...”
“I imagine.”
A branch snapped somewhere in the forest and they both whirled around, Janus already trying to analyse which Side was most likely to want to spy on them (hard to say), and what was the best way to protect Virgil without angering him, but no humanoid figure came their way. It was just a large black bird with a hooked beak.
“Hemlock!” Virgil exclaimed, reaching out for the crow. A few beats of its large inky wings brought it closer, landing on a gravestone next to Anxiety. It gave a few croaks, letting the Side smooth the feathers on his neck, and looked suspiciously in Janus's direction.
Janus, who subtly swallowed and mentally congratulated himself on not actually being a snake, because that was a huge bird, and it didn't seem to overflow with love for him. He recalled with a twinge of the heart that these creatures were known to tell each other which individuals were dangerous or friendly.
But he was also glad Virgil had an animal companion. When Logan had hinted that Virgil might have created the cat to keep him company, he had bristled. Because Janus and Remus were more than enough company, because Logan had no business knowing how the petit orage felt better than Janus, and because Janus should’ve thought about it first. He eventually calmed down (with some help from Remus), and was considering sending a picture of his adorable corn snake (Noodle) to Logan.
Still, Virgil was calmer now that the enormous scavenger with a 2-inch-long sharp beak was perched on his shoulder (go figure).
“You can keep going,” he said.
Inhale, exhale.
“I also represent selfishness. Which can apply to various things. I don't easily share my food (sorry again), and I defend only my interests during conflicts. Although selfishness is sometimes necessary, as shown by numerous analyzes that I will make you the pleasure of not reading you...”
A smile curled the corners of Virgil's lips and Janus tried not to get too excited took note.
“… Although I would like to discuss it with Logan one of these days. So, yes, everyone needs a little selfishness at some point in their life. But there are also areas where it is never appropriate. Like family members.”
As he took a dramatic pause, he tried to focus on Hemlock, busy smoothing Virgil's hair, rather than on the indecipherable expression the young Side was sporting.
“I reacted very, very badly when you started to get along with the Core Sides. I couldn’t conceive a gray area where you were friendly with all of us, which is ridiculous because I’m entirely made up of gray areas.
“I tried to keep you only with us, and in doing so, I lost the chance to have you at all. And most important, I hurt you a great deal in the process. I am really, sincerely (for once) sorry.”
Virgil had been playing with one of the seams of his hoodie since Janus had started talking, but il now looked like he was going to rip it right off. When he spoke, it was in a tiny, strangled voice.
“You locked me in a cage.”
A cruelly precise image appeared to Janus. A cat, black and emaciated, small (especially as its fur was soaked) but not so large that the cage where it curled up appeared spacious. Janus had a lump in his throat.
“I never, ever should have locked you up. Or scared you in any way. Or kept you from talking, or let Orange do that, or kept you against your will. You don't have to forgive me. But I want you to know that I regret it all, and that it won't happen again. Ever.”
“… You forgot something.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“You said that you… that you were going to go see Thomas or the Core Sides and pretend to be me.” At these words, a tiny bit of anger awoke somewhere deep inside Janus. The idea that Virgil cared so much about his relationship with the Core Sides, about their love his reputation, annoyed a part of him.
But Janus was in therapy now, reluctantly, and he had had time to confront and regret what he was able to do when controlled by anger.
“I'm sorry I considered sabotaging your relationship with the others. I know they mean a lot to you. I can't promise to never impersonate anyone, since that's part of my job, but I won't imitate you.”
Virgil’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and he was too adorable for his good. Janus allowed himself the hint of a smile. “Never?!”
“Never. We both only want to protect Thomas, so I don't have to pretend to be you to convince Thomas of something.”
“True. I - I'll think about it.”
It was better than nothing already encouraging. At Picani's suggestion, Janus had mentally prepared himself for his apology to be refused, and he nodded without showing any particular emotion. Virgil, on the other hand, seemed more and more anxious.
“That's perfectly alright. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you. Are you okay with me continuing to send you letters?”
The younger Side nodded, but he had stopped looking at Janus, and didn't relax. He didn't seem to want to believe that Janus just accepted his refusal. Desperate times... "Patton mentioned that taking on the appearance of a cat often calms you down," he risked. “Would you like to...”
Janus stopped abruptly at his reaction. He took a few steps back, as if Janus had threatened to hit him, and his breathing was getting faster and faster.
You fool, Janus thought, panic threatening to overwhelm him. You imbecile. Think about the last time he was a cat around you. Hemlock gave him a reproachful look over its human's shoulder.
“It was a bad idea,” he blurted out. “Sorry. Forget it. Do you want, uh, we can continue later?”
“You’re not done?” asked Virgil. Janus winced at his hoarse voice. He kept going, as quietly as possible.
“There’s a little left. But if you're uncomfortable, we can totally meet again some other day. I've already hurt you enough as it is...” To his horror, his voice broke. The thought of Virgil, suffering because of him, washed over him, accompanied by a rush of distress which he could not suppress, despite his function and his efforts.
He continued, missing his previous calm, swallowing his saliva in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat. “... And I have no desire to cause you any more distress.”
Virgil had lifted his head, with a look of astonishment that made Janus fidget (fidget? Him!?). He cleared his throat. “I'm just going to worry if we don't get over with this now… Go ahead.”
Almost done. You can do this.
“Okay. So, Virgil, I’m also the personification of lying. Which is perhaps the worst out of those three. Not because lying is never helpful, even necessary - think of all the "fine, and you?" Thomas says in a day. But because that's what turned this situation, our situation, from bad to terrible.
He had Virgil’s full attention. He focused on the stormy gray of his eyes to give himself enough courage to finish his explanation.
“I have the feeling - and I could be wrong - that if I’d explained to you, calmly and openly, why I didn't like to see you to grow close with the Core Sides, it would never have come to this. We could have understood each other. I had no right to stop you from going anywhere, and if I had known how bad you were doing, I could have helped you, and- and you can be friends with several people at the same time, and...”
He closed his mouth, surprised himself by what had just escaped him. He cleared his throat before speaking again, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Well, that’s pretty much it. Sorry for keeping you from transforming back, from being able to talk and explain. Sorry for lying to you, and then letting it grow ugly instead of just talking about what worried me.
“In conclusion, uhm, I'm sorry that I didn’t realize what was going on, and tried and kept you from the others, just to myself, instead of just telling you about it.”
He stared at a gravestone for a few seconds (very nice stone, so smooth), not daring to look at Virgil's reaction. The other Side hadn't been angry (or worse, cried) so far, even if he would’ve been more than justified in that reaction, but Janus didn't know how he would react if he had to see him like that, except that it wouldn't be pretty. When the anticipation and silence started to appear worse than just looking, he raised his eyes.
Virgil had a little smirk.
Oh, almost imperceptibly, but a smile nonetheless. Janus barely had time to be surprised.
“You know,” Virgil began, “I tried to guess what to expect, coming here. I imagined you making an apology clearly learned by heart, calm and, I don't know, impersonal? Professional and clinical? I also imagined you super emotional, like, crying-emotional.” He shuddered. “Both felt weird. But this... Trying to look calm and collected and succeeding only partly, as if you forgot I can detect fear...”
He had forgotten about it. Janus wondered, somewhere in a corner of his mind that wasn't completely in shock, what his worry tasted like, to him.
“And that's a lot like you. I may not be able to detect lies, or sense all emotions like Patton, but I know you’re afraid that I’ll refuse your apologies, or that I’ll get angry and stop talking to you. You care. And that's... Points in your favor, I guess.”
“So…” Janus said slowly, still trying to come to terms with the idea. “You trust me, because I'm… trying to hide something from you?” Virgil shrugged again, but this time he looked almost amused.
“Like I said, that's your type of reaction.”
“Wow.”
“I know. I'll, uhm, think about it too. About forgiving you. Keep the letters going. It makes you look like you were born in the 18th century, or something...” Janus pretended to protest, but he couldn’t hope to hide the smile that quietly settled on his lips. Virgil cleared his throat. “Yeah, old man. Keep your quill and inkwell and keep writing to me.”
“Thank you,” said Janus, painfully sincere.
Oh no. Was he going to cry? Quick! Talk about something else!
“In the meantime, are you sure there's nothing I can do? To make it up to you?” He almost regretted the question when the smile slowly slipped from Virgil's face. But a few words from him were enough to direct his concern elsewhere.
“There is something... The others told me that, uh, Orange apparently tried to break into ho- into their home. Since I've been living there.”
Janus should have been angry sad jealous pained upon hearing Virgil almost admit that the Core Sides’ house was his home (the 'their home' had definitely been a lie), if he hadn't been so busy being angry.
A very appropriate emotion in this context.
“He did what?!” he bristled, making Hemlock croak.
“Yeah… They have a good alarm system, and he couldn't get in, so I shouldn't be making a big deal out of it, but…”
Janus didn't need Virgil's skill to know he was very scared, even though he affected nonchalance. The older Side allowed himself a second to regret not putting more effort into protecting Virgil, who was constantly on guard and a far more entertaining target than Remus or him, from Anger. He shouldn't have let the atmosphere of his house get like that.
"I'll talk to him," he assured, his voice growing more and more hoarse. “I'm sure Remus will be more than willing to encourage him to… switch targets. You don’t need to worry. Okay, Virgil?”
And. Wow. It had been a long time since he had comforted, and not confronted, the younger Side like that. It felt nice. He mentally went through his list of topics to discuss and was about to conclude when he remembered a suggestion from his half-brother (Janus didn't like to think of Patton as his half-brother, for two reasons. Firstly, it reminded him that Anger was also his half-brother (which, yuck). But it also made the fact that Patton, quintessential father figure, who loved all of his kiddos, absolutely hated him, even more painful.) a suggestion from Patton.
“If that would make you more at ease, could we possibly meet again, in the other’s company this time?”
“Would they agree to that?”
"It was Patton's idea," Janus explained, trying not to be wounded by Virgil's obvious surprise.
But in the end, he nodded, so the snake couldn't really complain, could he?
***
“How’d it go?”
Janus sank down on the couch (which he subtly cleaned beforehand, with a wave of his hand) next to the personification of Intrusive Thoughts. Immediately, he buried his nose in the other’s neck, who put an arm around him.
"Awful," he told Remus' shoulder. “Very not good. I am not emotional at all.”
The other Side cackled. He was the only one to never take offense in Janus's lies. Although it may not be very fair to the others. After all, they didn't know the reason for them.
"I'll make you some herbal tea, with some nice regurgitated bee stuff," Remus decided. “With all these truths, your throat must’ve turned into a grate made of sandpaper. And oh, do you think tomorrow would be a good time to apologize? I wanted to wait for you to go first, because I was slightly less horrible, and in contrast it’ll seem… Oh.”
Janus wasn't sure when he started to cry. All he knew was that the mixture of regret and relief wasn't burning in his chest, it was slipping, one drop at a time, like the silent, almost quiet tears on his face. Without saying a word, Remus came back to his seat on the couch, and Janus leaned against him, his function of denial failing as a whirlwind of emotions washed over him. Hope was not the least of them.
By trying to keep Virgil to himself, he had almost lost him forever. He wouldn't waste his second chance.