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Vergilius wasn’t back yet.
Which was fine! Completely fine, it had only been around ten minutes since Dante and the Sinners made it back to the bus anyway, Vergilius had probably just been busy fighting the Wild Hunt and would be back any minute now.
…Any minute now.
He was fine! He was a Colour and had his own E.G.O. and said that he could handle it when Sinclair expressed concern.
There was absolutely no reason for Dante to get up out of their comfortable seat and drag their body which was still shaking from so many rewinds back to Wuthering Heights just to confirm what they already knew.
…But at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt (anyone apart from them anyway.)
<I’m just going to check on Vergilius, alright? You all stay here and rest you must be exhausted. I hereby confirm today’s close of business for the Sinners and all that.>
Some of the Sinners looked like they were considering disagreeing, Outis and Ishmael especially, but Dante wasn’t wrong, they were all practically about to fall asleep in their seats and now that they had been technically released from work for the day no one had it in them to argue. Immediately they all shuffled off to their rooms with various mumbles of thanks and requests for their manager to stay safe.
Dante was just about to open the bus door when suddenly Charon tugged on their sleeve, they wheeled around in surprise, not having noticed her even getting out of her chair.
“Please bring back Verg Tick Tock, might be stuck thinking again.”
Before Dante could ask what she meant by that she yawned and retreated off to her own room to sleep, leaving them puzzled and even more worried than they’d been before.
It didn’t take long to make the walk back to Wuthering Heights what with the long winding path leading up to its entrance being so well-maintained, finding the entry to the basement was more difficult due to the size of the manor but eventually, they managed to locate the stairs and descend into the depths.
The basement was pitch black, even with their fire partially lighting the way Dante could barely make out the steps in front of them let alone see if anyone was still there.
Maybe they should have bought a Sinner with them.
They had taken maybe two steps across the basement’s wooden floorboards before being tackled unceremoniously to the ground with something sharp just grazing against the skin of their neck. Dante writhed and struggled trying to push their attacker off of them but they were pinned completely, their heart raced, was this where they were going to die?
Then all at once, everything stopped.
“Dante?”
It seemed they had found Vergilius.
He climbed off of them and helped them to their feet, if Dante didn’t know better they would have said that he almost looked embarrassed.
“Apologies… I thought you were someone else for a moment.”
Vergilius’ eyes were distant, as though he was looking through them and to something that only he could see. Lost in memories just like Charon had said. He shook his head once and turned to focus fully on them, it was a little bit intense to be subjected to his undivided attention while they were the only two people around.
“...did you retrieve the Golden Bough?”
Dante shrank in on themself, the one question they were hoping he wouldn’t ask.
<Sort of? I left it back on the bus. We did get it, but I don’t know if it’ll be of any use anymore, it’s all white and dead-looking, I’m sorry.>
He blinked, skipping over the status of the Bough to focus on the more confusing part of their story.
“If it’s on the bus why are you still here?”
Ah, this was a little embarrassing.
<I came back to make sure you were alright?>
It was not the kind of response that should be a question but they suddenly felt so unsure of themself in the moment that they could think of no other way to phrase it.
“You-”
A pause like he was trying to find the words, Dante waited with bated breath.
“You have no need to concern yourself with me Dante, I am your guide, do not worry about such things.”
He looked like he wanted to say more but dropped the subject and let the silence hang in the air for a while before he shook his head and moved on.
“We should return to the bus, I’m sure that-”
Another pause, this one less deliberate, Vergilius’ eyes widened and he pushed them down to the floor again, causing them to drop their PDA and making them ring out in alarm. He yelled for them to cover their head and in the panic, Dante did as they were and flung their arm up over where their eyes should have been just in time to see the ceiling above them cave in.
Of all the ways they’d thought they would die on their journey, Dante hadn’t really ever considered the possibility of being buried alive.
For a moment they were half-convinced they were already dead, they couldn’t see anything through the dust cloud the rubble had kicked up until it settled down along with the rumbling of the house still collapsing in on itself.
They shook with fear, sure they always knew there was a decent chance that they’d end up dead but they didn’t think it would be a slow miserable end caused by being slowly crushed by debris while they couldn’t even dehydrate or starve to die quicker. They didn’t think that they’d rope Vergilius of all people into their death, not when he’d deliberately stayed out of their battles until now, he’d decided to break his contract to help them and what did he get as thanks? A drawn out painful death.
“Just to confirm, you don’t breathe do you?”
Well no, their chest expanded and contracted and they sure felt like they breathed in and out, but ultimately it was just an imitation, not something that brought oxygen into their blood. Even if they could feel their chest heaving and blood racing with fear right at this very moment, they shook their head as much as they possibly could in the awkward position they were trapped in, the panic a little abated by Vergilius' calm, measured voice.
“Good, that means there’s plenty of air then. Do try to relax manager, I’ll get us out of here in due time.”
He wasn’t scared? He could get them out? Neither of them was going to die here? Dante went limp with relief, it was fine, Vergilius was their guide and he’d make sure that they were able to get back to the bus and do their job.
Desperate to focus on anything Dante began to take in their respective positions more clearly. They were lying on their side and had apparently managed to mostly curl in on themself with the second of warning that Vergilius had given. Their knees and elbows were pressed safely against their chest but their limbs not having had the time to be fully tucked away were in more uncomfortable situations; one arm was almost fully pinned beneath and was no doubt going to go numb soon due to lack of blood flow, how’d they’d managed that Dante had no idea. Their legs were mostly fine, though one had been caught just a tiny bit outside the protective bubble Vergilius' body provided, it hurt a little but they weren’t really concerned about it at the moment. At least they had free movement of one of their arms, granted it wasn’t very useful given there was absolutely no way they could reach their PDA, which they were pretty sure they were lying on, but still, it was something.
Vergilius was on his knees above them, his back and legs having protected them from the rumble encasing them. One arm shielded his head from the debris while he braced all his weight on the other to prevent himself from falling on top of them, he was so close to them, barely a few centimetres away, if they tried to lift their head at all they had no doubt they’d bump into his face.
They can see his face so clearly in the light of their flickering fire, every line and scar closer than they’d ever been before. For a moment they wonder if he can see his eyes reflected in the metal of their clock.
“Shit.”
Immediately they’re brought back to their very stressful reality and begin to fret again because if Vergilius can stay so calm with a building on top of him then what has happened now?
“A part of a wooden beam fell on your leg, my apologies.”
Nothing important apparently.
Was he apologising for their injury or frightening them? With their faces so close together there was no way he hadn’t heard their ticking picking up speed in panic. He looked frustrated but oddly enough not with them for a change, it wasn’t fair, they’d definitely be dead if he hadn’t tackled them to the floor. In fact this was really their fault, he’d been leaving when they’d shown up and if they hadn’t been here neither of them would be in this situation.
Normally they’d just type something or get a Sinner to translate or even just shrug but they can’t do any of that here.
So they do the only thing they can think of and reach up with their free arm to gently touch his cheek, just for a moment, and then they lower it again like it never happened.
His brow furrows and he blinks once with an inscrutable expression, he doesn’t look mad, not at all, it’s confusion but crossed with something else that they can’t place but sends shivers down their spine. Did he understand what they were trying to convey?
They wanted to touch him again.
Vergilius sighs and Dante can feel it tickle their neck, they think they have goosebumps.
“Before I move this off of us I’d like to check your leg, I’d prefer to avoid the possibility of making it worse. Tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop alright?”
His voice is soft, gentle and his touch is even more so as he carefully lifts his arm off the ground and trails it along their injured leg to the point that they can hardly feel it through their clothes. Eventually after what feels like an age with how cautiously he’s touching them Vergilius’ hand ghosts over the part of their leg that hurts and moves down to their ankle, he hadn’t stopped which was probably a good thing as it meant their injury wasn’t as serious as a bone being snapped in two but it also meant that Vergilius was still searching for something he’d already found.
Not that they were opposed to the way he was touching them but they’d also very much like to get free from the rubble and that wasn’t going to happen unless they could convince Vergilius that whatever he needed to do to get them out wasn’t going to snap their leg clean off or something.
Because it sort of worked last time, and absolutely for no other reason, Dante touched his face again, firmer than last time because they’re trying to get across the feeling of importance rather than comfort. It’s a bit weird but it kind of makes sense to them and it’s all they have to go off of.
Vergilius glares at them but he somehow looks more concerned than angry, it’s another expression that they’ve never seen on him before.
“Don’t distract me right now unless you want me to drop this rubble on you.”
They tap at his face again, more determinedly with an agitated little ding because they’re a little annoyed that they’re even less able to communicate than before. That one seems to make him get the message that they’re trying to tell him something and he stares down at them, trying to understand what they want through any little sign their inhuman body can give.
“Does it hurt?”
They make a so-so gesture with their hand and Vergilius looks relived, for a man that had just slaughtered an endless undead army without a second thought, he seemed to be actively against causing them pain for some reason. He didn't need to care so much, they were almost used to rewinding by now.
His hand brushes their ankle again, somehow even gentler then before.
“But it is where you’re injured, correct?”
They nod and are glad for once that they don't have a mouth to speak with, they don't think they could get the words out anyway at the moment.
“Do you need me- do you want me to stop?”
He’s being so considerate of them even as they can see him shaking with the effort of holding back all the rubble without even a single arm to brace himself on but no, Dante doesn’t want him to stop.
Well they do, but only so that he won’t have the weight of an entire building on his spine for even longer.
“It’ll hurt more.”
Dante just nods again, of course, it will, that’s the point of them though, to feel pain, if Vergilius hurting them will make it so that he lifts the building off of himself and he doesn’t have debris digging into his back anymore then they’re happy to feel it.
Vergilius presses into their leg just a bit harder, feeling around for what they don’t know. It does hurt more but they’ve felt far worse and they’re content to bask in the sensation of his fingers pushing against their skin. He really hadn’t needed to warn them if he was still going to treat them this tenderly.
It’s oddly peaceful as much as that sounds utterly insane to think. They’re still scared of what will happen if Vergilius can’t get them out of this situation but then again their life had been a state of near-constant fear ever since they could remember, the Sinners dying around them every single day did not help keep their mind off of all the ways they could have been killed so far on their journey. But at least now they aren’t in charge, there’s someone far more powerful than they could ever hope of being shielding them from harm and all they have to do is lie there and answer whatever questions he asks to the best of their ability.
If it wasn’t hurting Vergilius they honestly would have found the situation quite pleasant. It was nice to be so close to him, especially when he was being so gentle with them, like they’re a scared animal staring down a predator, though they were convinced that they wouldn’t end up eaten when all this was over, not when this was the kindest anyone had ever been to them. It was a strange feeling, to realise that this was the only time they could remember someone trying to soothe them, to spare them from more pain and that it was coming from someone they had no doubt could have escaped by now if he hadn’t bothered with them.
Vergilius pulled his hand away and they had to resist the urge to whine.
“Alright, your leg seems to be still in one piece, I couldn’t feel any loose shards of bone or anything like that which means you should be able to safely move it. I’ll properly examine it once we’re back on the bus but it’s likely fractured so be careful.”
He looks down at them again, tone serious.
“Dante, I need you to trust me and listen very carefully. Make yourself as small as possible, tuck your legs, arms and head against your chest and then stay still. I’ll get you out of here Dante.”
Why did he sound almost desperate? Like he was pleading with them to believe him, he didn’t have to worry, he was their guide of course they trusted him.
They stroke his cheek as gently as he checked for their injury, not because they wanted to this time but because it was the only way they knew how to comfort him, if they had a voice they would have said ‘of course, always’ but they have their hands and that will have to be enough for now.
They did as he asked, still looking up at him, and watched as Vergilius closed his eyes for just a moment and then began to lift the mountain of stone and wood and metal burying them. Why had they ever been scared when he would take them home?
Vergilius is still protecting them even now when all his focus is on the task above him. Dante is pressed against his knees and tucked under his stomach and ribs, completely shielded from the pieces of debris that fall onto Vergilius’ back and onto the floor beneath them. He’s breaking the rubble above them, white rings surrounding his wrists as he slams them over and over again into the mass of materials weighing down on him and pushes the more manageable shards away. Dante had seen those rings once before when he’d saved them in the forest and they’re struck by a feeling of nostalgia.
They wish that they could help in some way but he is not bound to them, they cannot undo his pain and so they have no choice but to stay as still as possible and watch as he frees them from what would have been their tomb.
Dante had no idea how long it takes Vergilius to reach the light but when he finally does he slumps down for a moment in relief, they put their hand on his knee and rub little circles into it, ‘well done, thank you, you saved me’ is what they try to say. He glances down at them for the first time since he started and for a moment doesn't say anything, just studies them with something close to awe in his eyes.
“You’re alright.”
He’s a little breathless but he’s smiling just a bit and it makes their stomach flip. It’s not a question, he says it like it’s a fact, a miracle even and they draw a smiley face on his stomach to confirm it. Yes, they’re alright.
Vergilius keeps looking at them as he pushes aside the last few chunks of stone on top of them and finally manages to free himself from the uncomfortable position he’d been in for so long. He stands and stretches and in their giddiness to be in the open air again they try to stand too only to immediately feel their leg give out from under them in a burst of sharp pain, Dante falls backwards, or would have, if it weren’t for an arm wrapping around their waist and keeping them upright.
“Haah… don’t try and stand on a broken leg Dante, surely even an amnesiac could work that one out.”
He sighed and lifted them up like they weighed nothing, one arm supporting their lower back while the other went under their knees, they’re lying back against his chest, one hand gripping his jacket when they remembered that Don Quixote had once referred to this position as a ‘bridal carry’ and their flame spikes just a little.
They fumble for their PDA, a million things they want to say running through their head and Vergilius bends down effortlessly without dropping them somehow and picks it up to hand it to them, their fingers brush against his when he does so.
It takes them no time at all to decide what they want to type once they confirm the device is still working.
<Are you hurt?>
Surprise flickers across his face and it fills them with sadness so they stroke his cheek again, it’s their turn to be worried about him.
“I am fine, you are in far worse shape than me, there’s no need to be concerned.”
They disagree and are about to tell him so when the sky they’d been so excited to see again opened up and began raining in earnest, he sighs and they can feel his chest expand and contract against their body, it’s nice to feel him breathe deeply, not stifled by their slowly decreasing oxygen quantity.
“Come on, I’ll take you back to the bus. You’ve had a long day and need to rest.”
Dante nods into his chest and lets their nonexistent eyes flutter shut, without the fear racing through them they’ve quickly become exhausted. They can sleep for just a little bit, Vergilius is carrying them after all, he won’t let anything happen to them.
“You’re soaked through.”
They’re in the doorway to his room when they come to again and true to his word they are completely drenched in rainwater, how they managed to sleep through that they have no idea.
Vergilius doesn’t mention their nap as he removes their PDA from his pocket and sets it on his desk, maybe he hadn’t even noticed that they fell asleep, lost in his own thoughts about the day’s events.
He gently places them down onto his bed and helps them peel off their coat and shirt then drapes his own, apparently waterproof and somehow still whole jacket around their shoulders like a blanket. It takes them a second to process the event and another second to notice that he’s left soft pyjama pants on the bed for them and turned around to give them privacy. It takes longer than they’d like to wiggle into them but the feeling of dry clothes against their frozen skin is worth it. It’s even more worth it somehow that it’s Vergilius’ clothes, they put his jacket on properly too and marvel at the sight of the familar stripes covering them almost completely.
With his jacket gone they could see rips in his shirt and bruises along his back and down one arm, they felt another pang of guilt and a rush of gratitude that he endured that pain and discomfort to protect them all while doing his best to keep calm. He hadn't needed to do that, he could have focused on freeing himself first, after all a slightly more broken leg and a panic attack wouldn't have affected their ability to manage the Sinners and turn the clock. But then if Vergilius hadn't needed to help them that meant he'd done it because he'd wanted to and the thought sends a wave of such pure joy through them that they surely would have cried if they could have.
“All done?”
They give an affirmative ding and he turns around to examine them again, his gaze lingers on their hands and how their fingers barely poke out of his jacket sleeve.
“...I’d take you back to your room but I’d rather not leave you unattended with a broken leg, I’ll try and get some healing amples but the company probably won’t let me, you can either sleep on the seats in the main room or sleep here for the night.”
Dante makes up their mind immediately and flops down onto the bed, it’s far comfier than the seats and there’s good company, frankly they're finding it hard to come up with reasons to ever leave again.
Vergilius discards his ruined shirt and moves towards the couch but Dante catches ahold of his, thankfully unbruised, wrist and tries to tug him back towards the bed, it would have been so easy for him to remove their hand but he doesn’t.
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch with a broken leg Dante.”
<I’m not letting you sleep on the couch covered in bruises from saving me.>
He sighs, clearly too tired from the long day to argue against somewhere soft to sleep and climbs into the bed next to them, shutting his eyes immediately.
They lie there for a while before they start to shiver a little, his jacket is cosy but the cold from the rain has seeped into their bones and won’t leave. Dante shuffles a little closer to Vergilius inch by inch until they’re practically touching again, they want to get even closer still but maybe that’s a step too far even if they’re already in his bed.
He opens his eyes, sighs and pulls them against his chest resting his chin on their clock, his arm is curled around them now and they run a finger gently over his bruised hand in a silent apology and gratitude, they can’t see his face but they can feel his sharp inhale and try to pull away before he catches their hand
“You’re moving too much, rest.”
His voice is so close to them as he laces both their fingers together, his breathing is nervous until they press themself even closer to him and he holds their hand tighter. They were right, they hadn’t been the only one who enjoyed the closeness of being buried with him.
As they drift off Dante realises that here, with their hand in his, arm curled around them, lying against him, is the safest and warmest they’d ever felt.