Archive of Our Own ^beta

There is a body.  

The remaining chroma hovers over it, confused, lost, alone.  

The desire to protect, to keep safe, to safeguard, to shield and shelter, it shines brilliantly within the chroma.  

It is one half of a pair.  

It has pathways carved into it.  A device, making room where there had once been none.  

--

Alicia knelt next to the body and closed his eyes, drawing her fingers down the length of him, washing the blood away with chroma while she watched the silvery light shine above him.  It had not dissipated into the painting.  It lingered.  It hurt.  The regret was easy to feel when she cupped it in her hands and held it close.  

Like this, here, part of the greater world that the Painted cannot see, it knows, and its heart breaks.  

"I could give you something," Alicia nudged the thought at the chroma in her palms.  "I could paint you into something.  Not what you were.  But I could make you something else.  Something new.  Something of both worlds.  Painted and Painter.  A guardian, for them."  An image brushed across her mind and she smiled, for it is fitting for the role she planned.  "Yes.  A guardian angel in some respects, a fallen angel in others."  

Another determined flicker from the chroma in her palms.  It made her smile behind her mask and she held the light closer.  

"It will hurt," she breathed to it, gentle and soft.  "To repair what has been damaged, and to make you a creature of both worlds.  It will hurt, and I may not finish in time.  If you would rather rest, I understand.  To become a Painter is to be in pain, here."  

The flicker got brighter and shined in her palm, a blazing light in the darkness of the Cliffs.  Alicia smiled once more and leaned down to press her forehead against the glowing light.  

"Then come with me," she whispered, turning to step into the back of the canvas, the body on the cliffs behind her disappearing into a cascade of golden petals.  

~!~

Gustave woke up.  

He was not supposed to wake up.  

Gustave sat up on the bed in the golden and gilded bedroom and looked around, realizing that he was once more in the Manor that they had found in the sea forest.  Where Maelle had been waiting.  

His back and shoulders ached, and he rolled them, and proceeded to knock over a bedside table.  He caught sight of a mix of brown, white, and tawny feathers, scrambling away from whatever was behind him, knocking over another stack of books with a crash and-

"Stop please."  

Gustave froze at the voice that did... was not spoken aloud, but he could still hear it?  He turned to look at the woman standing in the doorway of the room.  It looked like Maelle, but... not quite.  As though she were a warped version of her, one that was from the same mold, but a different execution.  

"Who... who..."  A part of him trembled, and this time Gustave glanced over his shoulder and realized that the feathers were wings.  Wings spanning the full length of the room, and wings that he could... if he focused.... move.  They were his.  He sucked in a frantic breath and turned to look at the woman in the doorway.  

"I need your help.  You must help them.  That is what you wanted, more than you wanted rest.  Is that still true?"  

Gustave's full attention snapped to the woman, and the weight, the desperation to her words.  "What..." 

"I don't have long," She said, reaching out to touch him.  "Please let me explain.  You took so long to wake up.  We're almost out of time.  You must hurry."  

~!~ 

Verso watched Maelle, Alicia, approach the Curator with the heart of the second Axon, his entire being aching.  The fight had been vicious after they had decided to leave the white Nevron that had been weaving alone.  It was a harder battle than they had needed to fight, but none of them had been able to bring themselves to fight another of the peaceful Nevrons, just as they had their entire journey.  

But it meant that by the time they made it back to camp, they were all exhausted, ready to drop, and barely speaking with each other.  Impossibly, though, they had what they needed, and the Curator, Renoir, desperate to do anything to remove his wife from the canvas, would give them what they needed.  Perhaps tomorrow, they would be able to end all of this, and there would be no day after.  He would be able to rest at last.  

A blinding flash of light, and heavy Painter chroma later, Maelle was clutching a rapier in her fingertips that had been made by a Painter, even if she did not know what that meant, imbued with the power of both Axon hearts.  It was power incarnate and would break through the barrier around the Paintress in an instant, he could feel it, from here.  Verso felt the Curator looking at him and turned away as Maelle and the others continued to speak with him and focused on upgrading their weapons.  

There was nothing left for them now but to rest, and then face the Paintress on the morrow.  He would at last be able to rest.  It would all be over, and there would be nothing else.  He would face his father, and his mother, and this twisted ball of grief would at last be untangled and he... he would be able to rest.  It was a relief that he was doing nothing but push himself toward.  They would be there soon enough, and then it would all, at last, be over and done with.  No more canvas, no more life, no more anything.  They could all stop.  

Verso sat out of the immediate circle of the fire, and focused on staring at the monolith that had gotten steadily closer with each night, and now they were on the doorstep.  Soon, they would be able to fight her.  It was more comforting than he expected.

Which was followed by an odd ripple near the monolith.  

Verso frowned and narrowed his eyes as he stared at it.  There was the faintest flash of gold.  

It hadn't been close to a year, so it was not the Paintress, and the Curator was here.  Alicia, as Maelle, was here.  Neither Renoir or his sister would dare to touch the monolith, the seat of his mother's power, they were welcomed in, they did not need to touch it.  Another golden flash, this time brighter, near the top of it.  Verso stood up, squinting, trying to see what it was.  

"Verso?" Monoco called.  

Of course Monoco would have noticed something was wrong.  Verso didn't look away from the monolith and the flashes of gold that were becoming brighter with each passing second.  It was almost as though... 

A boom of pure Painter chroma echoed across the entire canvas, and Verso crashed to his knees when the wave of gold hit him, knocking him back.  There were shouts at camp behind him and he turned his back on the monolith and raced toward Maelle and the others.  "Maelle!  Maelle, your weapon-" 

"I assure you, there's no need for that."  

Verso reacted before he could stop to think about what he was seeing, summoning his dagger to his hand, throwing it at the creature that was standing in the midst of camp, aiming for the center of the wings.  It would be a weak point on Nevrons, it was clear.  When his dagger disappeared into a flurry of golden petals, Verso tensed and rushed to stand in front of Maelle, facing the creature.  "I will not let you... what?" he breathed.  

"I told you," Gustave said, looking from Maelle, to Lune, to Sciel, back to Verso, who was staring at him, wide and shocked.  "There is no need for that."  

Verso swallowed and barely managed to grab the back of Maelle's jacket as she tried to launch herself at the creature standing in front of him.  "It's not him," he snarled, staring at the man in front of them.  "It is not him.  He died.  You saw him die, Maelle!"  

Maelle trembled and looked between Verso and Gustave.  "But he..." 

"He certainly feels like a human," Monoco said, coming to stand on the other side of Maelle, with the others.  "He's not like he used to be, though."  

Gustave watched Verso, keeping his eyes on him, ignoring the looks from Sciel and Lune.  "Painter and Painted, now, from what I have been told."  

Dread washed over Verso, cold and terrifying at the words, at the realization of what Gustave was, and that someone was using him, was using his likeness against them to give up what he wanted.  "You will not touch them," he ordered, holding out his rapier.  "You will go through me and you know that you can't."  

Gustave took a step closer, and then another, and reached out to wrap his hand around the blade in front of him, dissolving it into golden petals, watching the reaction of them all with a smile.  "We have a lot to talk about."  He smiled faintly at Verso Dessendre, and gestured to the fire.  "Perhaps we can sit?  I've missed you all."  

"Verso," Lune hissed.  "It feels like his chroma, just mixed with, with what feels like yours!"  

Verso clenched his hands into fists, because that could have easily mean that Renoir was using this image, this face, to get close to them, to get them to let his guard down.  There was nothing he could do or say, as he continued to stare.  "He is dangerous."  

Gustave shrugged and turned to sit down on one of the logs beside the fire.  "You are welcome to your caution, but any attempt to attack me again will have the same thing happen to your weapons that happened to Verso's.  I will return them after I have had a chance to explain."  

Sciel stepped forward, curious, sitting across from Gustave at the fire.  "Explain what?  We're about to attack the Paintress tomorrow."  

Gustave looked at her and his wings flexed, moving impatiently. "If you attack the Paintress, it will, in a matter of hours, kill every single person in this canvas."  He turned his expression to Verso.  "Except for you, Maelle, and I."  

Verso's eyes widened.  "How do you..." 

"Alicia," Gustave answered.  He pulled a letter out of his pocket and held it out to Verso, before looking to Maelle and the confusion on her face, his heart breaking as she held herself back.  "I will explain if you do not.  But the letter is her explanation to you."  

Verso took the letter and opened it, cursing when he recognized the handwriting, folding the letter once more, staring at Gustave and at the speckled wings on his back.  "How are you alive?"  

Gustave tilted his head and looked at the wings behind him.  "A metaphor brought to life, in ways."  He turned back to Maelle and looked at her.  "It's time for you to stop hiding."  Her bright hair had faded, and wasn't quite Painter's white, but it was closer than it had ever been, and this intersection would be the last step.  A glance at the alcove where the Curator stood reassured him that he did not need to address that at this moment.  

Maelle flinched and frowned, reaching up to rub her temples.  "I'm not hiding.  You're being weird and cryptic, Gustave, if, if that's even you.  What is going on?  What do you mean we cannot kill the Paintress?  We have to stop her from doing the gommage!"  

Gustave looked at her and waited for her to meet his eyes again.  "Your father is the one doing the gommage," he answered, watching her jolt, and her eyes go wide.  

"Don't-" 

Gustave held up his hand to Verso and glared at him.  "You have kept them in the dark for long enough.  I know why.  I know how tired you are.  I know that you want it to end.  I know that you want it to be over.  But this is your canvas!  You cannot die unless you have control of it!" 

Verso blinked, his mouth dropping open as he stared.  "I... what?"  

Gustave sighed fiercely and looked back to Maelle who was staring at him, almost in a trance.  "Alicia," he ordered his voice reverberating with chroma.  "You need to wake up now.  We have to get your mother and your father out of the canvas."  He watched Maelle's body buckle, and wanted to go to her in comfort when she started to fall, her body and mind re-tethering itself properly, so she could be present in the canvas she was meant to be.  Both Lune and Sciel caught her before she hit the ground behind her and he turned his attention back to Verso.  

"They all have to leave the canvas.  All of them," Gustave said, staring at Verso.  "They will not let you die until they have all left the canvas.  They cannot.  For it is the last piece of you they have."  

"I'm not their Verso!" Verso snarled, standing up to glare at Gustave.  "Is this a trick from my father, something to convince me back to his side-" 

"Your sister sent me.  Alicia sent me," Gustave interrupted, shocking Verso into silence.  "That's why I had the letter."  

Lune swallowed, sharing a look with Sciel.  "You weren't dead?  We, we shouldn't have-" 

Gustave turned to look at both of them and smiled sadly.  "No, I died protecting Maelle.  Fighting, as an Expeditioner should.  You would have been proud of me, Lune."  

Lune clenched her eyes shut.  "How are you back, Gustave?  You, your answer makes sense to Verso, but how?" 

"I suspect," Sciel started, cradling Maelle's head carefully.  "He wants Verso to tell us."  

Gustave nodded and looked over at the man who had finished reading Alicia's letter, his face white as he tucked it away.  "You understand."  

Verso clenched his eyes shut.  "We still have to remove her from the canvas."  

"We have to remove all of them from the canvas," Gustave corrected, pulling his eyes over to Maelle.  

"Then what?" Verso growled, crossing his arms over his chest.  "It's mine and I destroy it all?"  

Gustave sighed and stood up, his wings shifting behind him as he walked over to Verso and knelt in front of him, placing both of his hands on Verso's thighs.  "Do you truly believe, in this world, where there are Painters and Painted, more fantastical creatures than most could ever imagine, and lives that were not Painted, but have come into creation through the pressure of chroma and time... that there are only two options in front of you?  To destroy it or not to destroy it?"  

Verso inhaled shakily.  "I don't know."  

"I know," Gustave breathed quietly, turning his attention to Maelle as she started to sit up again, properly.  Her eyes were knowing, now.  There was a weight to them there had not been before, and he knew that she could see how.  Could understand in a way that she hadn't before and smiled sadly at her.  "Hello Maelle."  

"Gustave," Maelle breathed, launching herself off the log she had sat on and into his arms.  "Gustave!"  

Gustave wrapped his arms and his wings around her, hugging her tight, pressing his face to her hair, even as it continued to lose its brilliant color, fading to the white that it was always meant to be.  She squeezed him tight, but when she sat up, her red hair was gone, and her eyes were filled with the weight of knowing.  "There you are," he coaxed, cupping her cheek, before pulling her in for another hug.  "I'm so glad that you are safe."  

Maelle buried her face against Gustave and sobbed.  "It's not fair!  None of it is fair, why, why are maman and papa-" 

"You know why," Gustave corrected, gently helping her up and back into her seat.  Behind him, he could feel the weight of Verso's eyes, demanding answers in their own way.  "We have to remove your mother and your father from the canvas.  If we don't, it will all fall to ruin while they try to remove you.  You all need to leave."  

Tears gathered in Maelle's eyes.  "But, but-" 

"There are no buts," Gustave challenged gently.  "I know this is your home, I know that we are your family in your heart and in your mind.  But I will not stand here and allow you to become what your mother has."  

Maelle straightened up, scowling.  "I won't let it happen!"  

"Eventually," Gustave corrected.  "Time will do it to you, whether you mean to allow it or not."  He looked up at the sky.  "You can see it now.  As Verso can.  As the Curator and Paintress can.  The chroma of the world is being torn apart between you.  You all must leave."  

"But, if we leave, if, if I..." Maelle's eyes darted over to Verso.  "You know what he wants!"  

Gustave nodded slowly.  "I do.  Better than almost any here.  I understand the why.  But I also understand that he deserves that rest.  He's been alive for more than a century, Maelle, he has been fighting for more than a century."  

Maelle sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.  "It's the last piece of Verso that we have!"  

"Oh, Maelle," Gustave soothed, wrapping her up in his arms.  "No, it isn't.  You will always carry him in your heart, but you cannot keep him here if he does not wish to be here.  That isn't an existence to put on anyone, you understand that.  It is torture, to be forced to remain when you do not wish to, and I know you would never want to do that to someone, would you?"  

Maelle swallowed and shook her head.  "I don't want him to die."  

Gustave smiled and kissed her forehead.  "I don't want him to die either."  He felt the weight of Verso's eyes on him, but it was the truth, whether the man liked it or not, he would speak it to her.  "But he does deserve rest, and that is something he will continue to work toward."  

"Gustave, you can't, you can't ask me to-" 

"On the contrary," Gustave interrupted, looking at her pointedly.  "That is exactly what I am going to ask both you and your mother to do.  And your father, when it comes down to it."  

Maelle shuddered and lowered her head, still clinging to Gustave.  She knew that he was right, that she did need to learn to let go, that she needed to leave the canvas at some point, no matter how much she didn't want to.  "I don't know how."  

Gustave smiled and cupped her face.  "It is something that you will need to learn, like anything else, Maelle.  I promise that you can learn it."  He stood up slowly and looked to Lune and Sciel, about to explain when Maelle turned and made her way away from the camp, running to where she could be alone.  He turned to them both.  "I need to speak with Verso, privately, and then I will explain everything that is going on, or he will.  You have my word.  Can you trust that?  At least a little bit?"

Lune shared a look with Sciel before she gave a singular nod.  "We are going to have a lot of questions."  She stood up and turned to make her way after Maelle.  "We will expect some answers."  

"Of course," Gustave agreed and watched her hold her hand out to Sciel and they went after the youngest member of this expedition.  Once they had joined Maelle over on the cliffs, Gustave turned to Verso and the broken open expression on his face.  With a quick and pointed twist of his fingers, he had reformed the weapon that he had destroyed and was handing it back to Verso.  "Here."  

Verso took it, his fingers wrapping around the hilt, before he let it disappear and stood up, his hands clenched into fists.  "How, you think you can convince her with a single conversation, that when it comes down to it, she won't try to stay?"  

"Of course she'll try to stay," Gustave said, still watching Verso carefully.  "But that wasn't what you wanted to ask me and you know that I will help convince her again, when the time comes."  

"You'll," Verso paused, clenching his hands into fists, looking at Gustave, the man whose corpse he had left on the Stone Wave Cliffs, and the beautiful wings tucked against his back, and the way his chroma swirled so invitingly and so gently, as though it simply wanted to reach out and touch and hug.  "You were serious.  About letting me do what I want after they are all out of the canvas."  

Gustave tilted his head.  "Yes.  Though, again.  You have assumed there is only a binary solution, and with the power of the entire canvas at your fingertips, that you believe there remains only one solution is something I do not understand."  He stepped closer and reached out to touch Verso's arm, even though he flinched back, moving closer still.  

Verso swallowed and glared at Gustave.  "What other solution is there?  You've seen what Alicia said, you know what will happen when they leave, there will be no one to control things, and yet someone will still have to!" 

"Says who?"  

Verso opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, frowning.  "Someone has to be in charge of the chroma of the canvas."  

"Yes," Gustave agreed.  "Someone does.  But do they need to be actively wielding and controlling it at all times?  Or is it possible that it could be left on its own?"  

Verso shook his head.  "You can't, no.  I'm not going to start looking at other options now, not when we're so close, not when it's finally over.  Not when-" 

"Verso," Gustave said, giving his arm a squeeze.  "I am not here to convince you one way or another."  Shattered gray eyes met his and Gustave wanted to pull him into his arms and hug him.  "Alicia wanted to be here, and could not, and I am here to do what I can in her stead.  To help protect you, Maelle, and the others.  I know how badly you want to rest, I can feel it in you, soul deep."  

Verso laughed, scoffing, looking away from Gustave.  "As though I have a soul.  I have a facsimile of one.  One that belonged to someone else and now was redrawn for me."  

Gustave shook his head.  "No, you have your own soul, built from your experiences here in the canvas.  I can see it."  

Verso's eyes snapped back to Gustave in an instant, and went to his wings, watching them flex against his back before settling once more.  "You can... see it?"  

"Yes," Gustave agreed, reaching out to touch Verso's heart, pressing his fingertips in and against him.  "It's why I understand how tired you are.  It's where you hold your exhaustion." 

Verso frowned, even though his heart skipped a beat under Gustave's fingertips and their gentle touch.  He could only imagine how blackened his soul was after centuries, after everything he had done, including letting the man in front of him die rather than helping him.  "Shouldn't waste your time then."  

Gustave stared at him with a frown.  "Waste my time?"  

"On me," Verso said, gesturing to himself.  "There's nothing to save.  My soul is as black as ink, I'm sure of it and-" 

Gustave laughed, his head falling back, his wings reacting to his joy, stretching out and flexing behind him before he met Verso's eyes with a bemused grin.  "You don't look at yourself often, do you?  At your soul, your Painter's Chroma?"  

Verso frowned.  "What do you-" 

"Look," Gustave breathed, pressing his fingertips tighter to Verso's soul.  "Close your eyes, let me show you."  He smiled faintly.  "You won't believe me if I told you."  

Verso was about to dismiss the idea that he needed to see whatever it was that Gustave was referring to when those fingertips pressed tighter against his heart and he scowled, clenching his eyes shut.  There was a familiar swirl of petals around him, and then in front of him, there was Gustave, a mix of golden petals, Alicia's chroma, and his own.  It was beautiful.  

"Now," Gustave breathed, his voice soft.  "Let yourself see you."  

Rather like his scar, that took effort to suppress the healing and ensure that it remained, Verso had avoided looking at his own chroma and soul ever since Julie, and maybe even earlier than that.  It had been darkened, wounded, cracked, and now, it was likely nothing at all, but if Gustave wanted him to prove a point, then fine, dammit, he would prove the point.  Verso turned his gaze on himself and froze, his breath catching.  

"See?" Gustave's voice was pointedly smug, echoing in the chroma around them.  

Verso stared at his own soul, his heart pounding and aching, and reached out to brush his fingertips over the blazing gold.  There were some dark spots, some pieces of him that were hurt and the hurt went deeper, but overwhelmingly, he was shining brilliant gold, and it was beautiful.  It was so beautiful that he wanted to say it was wrong, it wasn't correct, that there was no possible way this was him.  There had to be a mistake, the canvas had to have made a mistake.  

"Stop that," Gustave soothed.  

Verso choked on a sob and yanked himself back and out of that place where he could see the chroma and would have stumbled, had Gustave's arms and wings not reached out to immediately steady him.  He trembled and shook, shaking his head, even though he was holding onto Gustave's arms for balance, and the softness of his feathers was brushing against his arms, shielding him from almost every direction.  "That's not right.  It has to be wrong."  

Gustave hummed.  "Why is that?"  When Verso went to open his mouth, he reached out and pressed his fingertip to Verso's mouth.  "Because you endured?  Because you survived painful things in any way that you could and are not proud of those ways?  Because you have hurt others?  Because you hurt, so deeply and so painfully, it feels as though you may never escape it?"  

Verso wrenched himself back and away from the comfort of Gustave's hands and his pretty wings and shook his head.  "No.  It's wrong.  It has to be wrong.  It..." he let out a rough sigh and glared at Gustave.  "If this is the path you're going to take us down, I'm going to destroy it.  I'm going to stop letting this be an outlet for their family grief.  It, it's not real-" his voice cracked as he glanced at where Lune and Sciel were sitting with Maelle now, talking to her and calming her down.  "It's not real," he whispered.  

"Is it you who believes that, or him that knew that?"  Gustave asked, and met Verso's angry, wet eyes with a soft smile.  "You know why I asked."  

"It's not-" 

"Does your friendship with Monoco feel real?" Gustave challenged, and watched Verso flinch back.  "Or is that not real?"  

Verso opened his mouth and snapped it shut, furious.  "It is not the same.  It is all a canvas!"  

Gustave took another step close to Verso and reached out to trail his fingertips down Verso's cheeks.  "And why does this world being a canvas mean that it isn't real?"  He felt Verso tremble and traced the line of his beard.  "You know of the outside, and you have said, as one of those outsiders, that we are not real, but do the creatures here, from the lowliest Nevron, to humans, to Gestrals, to Grandis, to your family, Verso.  The family that was painted for you here, are they not real to those inside the canvas, no matter what they are to those outside it?"  

Verso clenched his teeth and glared at Gustave.  "You don't know what you're talking about!"  

Gustave hummed, one of his wings reaching out to brush against Verso once more, a gentle, comforting touch.  "Have you ever considered, Verso, that despite all the knowledge you carry as a Painter, and as a son who once lived outside of this canvas, that it is you who do not know what you are talking about, because you have not taken the time to look and see what is in front of you?"  

"I'm over a hundred years old!" Verso shouted, his voice carrying across camp, even as he stared at Gustave, his chest heaving.  "I have seen it, I have seen all of it, there is nothing left for me to see!"  

Gustave lowered his hand, watching Verso for a long moment.  "Then you will make the decision that you must."  

Verso watched Gustave walk away from him, his wings once more tucked against his back, his Painter chroma tightly leashed and no longer reaching out in comfort.  Growling furiously to himself, he turned and stalked in the other direction.  Gustave had promised the others answers, he could be left alone to give them if that's what he wanted so bad.  He wasn't going to stay here for a single second longer and subject himself to whatever it was that Gustave was planning now.  

~!~ 

Verso hated that he was crying.  

Hated that he felt like he wanted to stop what he was doing, that they shouldn't be taking these last steps.  

Hated that it felt like his mother begging not to die and yet they had to do it anyway.  

"I'm here," Gustave soothed, kneeling down beside Verso, putting his hand on top of Maelle's, meeting first her eyes, then Verso's.  "You can do it."  

Maelle choked on a sob and gently tugged at the Paintress' chroma, pulling it apart piece by piece, golden petals swirling around her.  

"Farewell, maman.  Stay safe," Verso whispered, leaning down to kiss where her forehead would have been as she melted away to petals and left their arms hanging empty.  Agony laced through him and he heaved in a breath, watching Maelle wipe at her eyes before he forced himself to his feet.  The worst wasn't over.  They still had to convince Renoir not to kill everyone. 

"Come, we don't have a lot of time," Gustave warned, looking out across the sky, spreading his wings, stretching them out after the battle.  "He's in the monolith.  We can get to him before he gommages everyone, but we have to hurry."  

Verso's eyes were caught on the beauty of the setting sun catching on Gustave's wings.  They were lit up golden and he wanted to sink his fingers into them, comb through and luxuriate in how soft and smooth they were, and how warm they were, and how if Gustave wrapped his wings around him he felt- 

"Verso, come on!" Maelle snapped.  "Let's go!"  

Gustave held out his hand to Verso and smiled faintly when Verso bypassed taking it and strode toward Maelle himself.  "Yes," he agreed quietly.  He could feel Alicia watching, though he couldn't see her and shook his head, taking a deep breath.  "I'm trying," he muttered under his breath to her and hurried to catch up to them.  He was running out of time when it came to Verso and the fate of the canvas.  

At the very least, Renoir was waiting for them at the base of the monolith and seemed to know that they wanted to talk rather than fight.  Gustave kept his chin up as Renoir turned to him, curious and cutting with his gaze.  

"And now the errant children return," Renoir commented.  "Alicia, it is time to come home."  

Gustave nudged Maelle forward, nodding to her.  He kept up the gentle nudge with his wing and smiled as she stood before her father, squirming uncomfortably.  

"You did well, getting your mother out of the canvas," Renoir said, letting out a sigh.  "But now it is time for us to go home.  After this canvas is destroyed-" 

"No," Maelle interrupted.  "You cannot destroy this canvas, papa, it's..." she hesitated and bit down on her lip.  

Renoir sighed, much deeper and longer than before.  "I know, Alicia, I know.  We all miss him, more than we ever thought possible, but pretending that this is him," he gestured to the painted creation beside her.  "It is only more heartache waiting for this family.  Better to destroy it and allow us all to move on."  

Gustave stepped forward and met the heavy eyes of Renoir and endured the scrutiny that went on for several long seconds before he let out an annoyed huff.  Gustave ignored that and focused on making sure he could deliver the message that he wanted to, the one that was important to all of them.  "You could all leave it.  Leave it be," he suggested.  That got him a narrowing of the eyes and Gustave crossed his arms over his chest.  He could see the man gathering chroma, preparing to attack and he spread his wings, readying himself as well.  "Hide it away from your family.  Lock it away from them.  Allow for your family to heal and leave the canvas be."  

"The chroma-" Renoir paused, narrowing his eyes in consideration, his eyes sliding over to Verso.  "He can't carry it alone."  

Verso flinched at the blatant assessment of his abilities, even if he knew it was a correct one.  That he would never be as good as the real one, who would have been able to do it, would have stood up under the scrutiny and assessment and found Renoir to be the one wanting, rather than himself.  

"The keyword in that sentence is alone," Gustave pointed out.  "No, he likely cannot do it alone.  But who has said he has to?"  He tilted his head and smiled faintly.  "A Painter family assuming only the members of that family can carry the burden of the canvas.  Rather unimaginative, don't you think?"  

Renoir's mouth opened in a snarl and he took a step forward, pressing his rapier to Gustave's throat.  "You don't know anything-" 

"Yes he does," Verso challenged, his heart jumping into his throat as they both looked at him.  "He's, the Alicia here has talked to him.  He's speaking for her.  It's her chroma in him.  You can see it, I know you can see it."  

"She is a child.  A Painted child.  She does not know better," Renoir snapped, turning his attention back to Maelle.  "Alicia, we need to leave.  Your mother is waiting for us and I will not have us stuck in this blasted canvas for a single moment longer!"  

Gustave reached up to stand beside Maelle and gave her shoulder a squeeze.  "Promise us that you will not destroy the canvas and Maelle will come with you.  No questions, no demons, no other deals.  Leave the fate of the canvas, to the one person who deserves to make the decision of its fate."  He turned to look at Verso.  "He is the soul of the canvas.  The decision of its fate is his, and his alone."  

Renoir pressed his lips tighter together, scowling.  "And if you decide to preserve it, to keep it all open forever?  What is to stop Aline or Alicia from returning and becoming lost once more?"  

"You," Verso challenged, and watched the word jolt Renoir.  "That's what is stopping them from returning.  You are.  Hide the canvas.  Lock it away.  Make sure they can never find it, ever again."  

Maelle covered her mouth, biting down a sob, tears filling her eyes at the thought of never seeing any of them again.  

Gustave reached out and took Maelle's hand, giving it a gentle, pointed squeeze, smiling down at her, wrapping a wing around her shoulders to draw her in close, even as they watched Verso face off against Renoir.  

Renoir pressed his lips tighter together and turned to look at Alicia.  "If you return, and you promise to return immediately after me, I will take the canvas away, but I will not destroy it."  

Verso felt a tremble go through him and looked back to where Maelle and Gustave were standing together, both of them staring at him.  Maelle was devastated and heartbroken, and Gustave was smiling at him with a mix of pride and sadness.  He couldn't take it and yanked his eyes away from them to breathe and faced the man who had been his father outside of the canvas again.  "You swear to let us decide our own fate?"  

Renoir raised his eyebrows.  "You mean, let you decide the fate of the canvas."  

"Yes," Gustave answered, smiling faintly as he nudged Maelle further towards Renoir.  "That is precisely what we want.  He and the soul of the canvas are the same.  Let them decide what they want, what they deserve after everything has happened and how tired they are.  Stop forcing them into decisions they might not want, or things they do not want to do.  Swear to leave the decision with them."  

Verso swallowed and clenched his eyes shut.  He was so close to getting to rest and putting it all to the side, all of it at last put to rest so he could end it all.  He was so close that he could taste it.  

Maelle nodded and faced her father again.  "Let them decide their own fate.  I, I will miss them.  They are my family.  But I can't, I can't..." she looked back at Verso and bit down a sniffle, rubbing at her eyes.  "I can't hurt him anymore than he has already been hurt.  I cannot do that to him.  I will not do that to him," she answered.  

Renoir hummed and turned to them, inclining his head.  "I suspect the canvas will not last long after we have vacated it."  He looked at Alicia.  "I will see you shortly, my dear.  I expect nothing less, or Clea and I will come to pull you out ourselves."  

Gustave watched as Renoir faded in a swirl of golden petals and it was as though the entire canvas took a monumental sigh of relief.  

Beside him, Verso trembled, and Maelle turned to face them.

"I have to go," Maelle said, rubbing at her eyes again. She raced forward and wrapped her arms around Gustave tightly, burying her face in her chest. "I don't want to say goodbye."

Gustave leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Perhaps that is why I died. So you could learn to say goodbye to me. You have already done it once, you are strong enough to do it again. I believe in you." He gave her a gentle push toward Lune and Sciel, watched as they wrapped her up in tight hugs and then released her to face Verso.

Maelle swallowed and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Verso. It took him a minute, then two, but when his arms came around her, she sagged into him and clung tight.

Verso could feel the words she didn't want to say and squeezed her once more before releasing her and gesturing to where Gustave was waiting with his hands held out. "Go," he urged, his voice soft. "Go home."

Maelle sniffled and reached out for Gustave's hands, tears streaking down her cheeks as she looked up at him. "I don't want you all to die."

"We will never die, not truly, as long as you remember us," Gustave promised, wrapping his arms and wings around her once more. "But now you must go, if we are to have a chance."

Maelle hugged him once more and stepped back, clearing her throat and drawing her rapier. She lifted it to her head and concentrated, feeling the tugging of herself outside the canvas. She turned to take in her friends, her family once more, before she let them fade.

~!~

Verso waited, trembling, shaking, breathing hard and heavy as he waited for whatever was about to happen now that all the Painters were gone from the Canvas.  

But nothing did.  

Behind him, Lune and Sciel muttered quietly to each other, there was a rustle of wings that belonged to Gustave, and a familiar shifting and rustling that belonged to Monoco, and there was... there was nothing else.  

"Call Esquie to take you home," Gustave said softly to the girls, giving them a smile.  "Give Emma a hug for me."  

Sciel looked between the stiff and tense figure of Verso and Gustave, chewing on her lip, watching Monoco step further away from them both before sitting down and pulling out his Nevron feet to polish.  "Should we really leave you both alone?"  

Gustave reached out to hug her.  "He won't want witnesses," he breathed, his voice soft as he smiled at both of them and gestured to the exit of the cave.  It took them another few minutes of worried looks, but they did, eventually, turn and leave the cavern.  Which left him, Monoco, and Verso.  

Verso clenched his hands into fists, but the chroma of the painting above him continued to twist in and on itself, existing, as it had for so many years, seemingly unbothered by the lacking weight of Painters within it.  

Gustave sat down next to Monoco as they both watched Verso struggle to breathe and clench his fists against the reality that was now laid out in front of him.  "We have to go to the back of the Canvas for him to make his choice."  

Monoco grunted.  

"If you wish to say goodbye, or offer any sort of guidance or wisdom, now would be the moment to do it," Gustave urged, and watched Monoco get up with a beleaguered sigh.  He tucked his wings against his back once more and watched Monoco smack Verso upside the head, fighting down a smile and a chuckle.  

Verso glared at Monoco, holding the back of his head.  "What was that for?"  

"You're being a stupid patate.  Someone needs to smack some sense into you," Monoco grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  

"I'm not being stupid," Verso grumbled, glaring at the Gestral.  "What was that for?"  

Monoco shifted, grumpily.  "You."  

"Me?" Verso asked.  "What about me?" 

"You are messy, annoying, and selfish.  You take burdens onto yourself that are not yours to carry.  You do not ask for help, even when you need it.  You are worse at communicating than a newborn patate, and-" 

"And?" Verso let out a hoarse, weak laugh.  "Why am I being insulted?" 

"And," Monoco repeated.  "You are the best friend I have ever had." 

Verso stilled, turning to look at Monoco, who wasn't facing him.  

"There is no one I would have rather explored this Continent with, there is no one else I would have wanted to explore every single nook and cranny of this canvas with.  Not even him.  He never had enough time.  You always had time.  You always made time, indulged me, indulged the Gestrals.  Even when you were being stupid, brooding, and mean."  

Verso clenched his eyes shut and swallowed hard.  "Monoco."  

"I know," Monoco growled.  "I came here willingly.  I know the ending you want.  I am not trying to stop you.  I am not trying to convince you of anything, other than the fact that you, not the original Verso, not the ghost that inhabits this canvas, are the one we all cared about.  You deserve to know that.  To remember that, when you make your choice."  

Verso wiped angrily at his face, growling in annoyance.  "Monoco..." 

Monoco looked at him and waited.  "Don't deny it," he stated.  "You have thought for years that you thought you were only a stand in for the original.  That we were making due with you, while we missed him just as much as the Paintress did.  But you lived here.  He never did.  You are a part of us in a way that he could never, ever have been.  You, Verso.  Not him." He nodded and walked toward the exit of the base of the Monolith.  "I'm going to go see Noco while I wait."  

Verso reached out for Monoco, but his back was turned, and he was gone a moment later, his hand drifting back to his side as he let out a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes again.  A flutter of feathers against his back made him look to Gustave, who was staring at him with those same soft and understanding brown eyes.  He scoffed.  "Stop looking at me like that, it's not going to change my mind."  

"I'm not trying to change your mind," Gustave repeated, sighing.  "Living in Lumiere required a familiarity with grief that I don't think anyone deserves.  I'm trying to offer you closure, Verso.  I am trying to help you understand that your perspective is not the only one there is, and while you are very rightly hurting, very rightly exhausted, and very reasonable to make the decision you want to, your perspective is not the only one that exists."  

Verso scoffed.  "How is that any different from trying to convince me to change my mind?" 

Gustave looked at him with a raised eyebrow and smiled faintly.  "Don't you feel better knowing that you were never a stand in for the original Verso, and that the Gestrals, Grandis, and Monoco all viewed you as yourself, not just a replacement for him?" 

Verso opened his mouth and snapped it shut, scowling.  He hated that there was truth to that statement, even if he didn't want to admit it.  Even if it galled him to admit it.  "Yes." 

"Then it mattered.  Whether it changes your mind does not," Gustave said and took a step forward and reached out to touch the edges of the canvas he could feel thanks to Alicia's chroma and gently tugged at it, pulling open a portal, before he turned to look at Verso.  "The back of the canvas."  

Verso swallowed, looking at the swirling entrance, and Gustave's hand, held out to him, his wings still tucked perfectly against his back.  "How do you know?" 

Gustave smiled.  "We all have our parts to play.  I still have mine."   

"Right," Verso growled, reaching out to take the hand, letting Gustave lead him into the swirling portal. 

--

Stepping through and into the back of the canvas was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Verso looked around at the half-painted fragments hovering in the air and the way all of it seemed to tug and pull at him, making it hard to focus, and even more difficult to see what was in front of him.  Beside him though, Gustave seemed untouched by it, his wings glowing faintly with the silver of Alicia's chroma, and a smile on his face as he looked at something in front of them.  

"Why are you here?" Verso asked, staring at him, his mouth dry and heart pounding as Gustave met his gaze, his eyes steady.  

Gustave squeezed his hand gently.  "You don't deserve to be alone at the end."  

Verso clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply, turning away from those eyes, moving deeper into the space that made his chest feel like it was caving in.  Reaching the center of the room, he could see the window into the canvas itself, being painted on the floor, by a young boy who looked so exhausted it made his heart ache.  Verso crashed to his knees, a sob building in his throat at the sight of a younger version of himself, so tired, so exhausted, wanting nothing more to rest, only to be pulled and controlled by a family unafraid to let him go.  He wanted to reach out to him, tell him to stop, tell him that it was over, that he didn't need to paint anymore, he could rest, he could finally re-

"Oh, doesn't that look fun?  I love the color you picked for that sunset."  Gustave leaned in closer.  "We should have more purple in our sunsets, I agree."  

Verso watched the younger version of himself look up toward Gustave and all at once it was like the image in front of him wavered and went out of focus and he frowned.  He blinked and shook his head, but the boy was standing up, bouncing excitedly as he reached for Gustave's hand... and then an instant later, he was back to the exhausted child, who Gustave was now hovering over and watching.  

Verso frowned, and the image wavered again, the exhausted child, and the exuberant child, bouncing next to Gustave.  "What's..."  he frowned and shook his head.  "What's... why..." 

Gustave looked up at Verso and tilted his head, frowning, confused.  "Verso?"  

Verso shook himself harder, and the two images flickered, jumping from one to the other.  He rubbed at his eyes, but it didn't change, and the feeling of chroma around him was getting denser, all of it responding to his fear and confusion.  "Why are there two, why can I see both?  What is this?  What's happening?"  His voice became a roar and the back of the canvas began to rumble and shake, until all of the sudden it went silent.  

"I've got you," Gustave breathed, wrapping his arms around Verso, pulling him in and against his chest.  He wrapped his wings around Verso and held onto him as tightly as he dared.  "I've got you, Verso, it's all right.  Breathe, just breathe for me."  

Verso shuddered out a gasp, clinging to Gustave, burying his face against Gustave's neck, digging his fingers into his sides, trying to remind himself that none of this was real.  None of it, it was all the canvas responding to him and what he wanted.  "Why are there two of you?" he whispered, confused, his heart aching.  A weight against his leg made him shift just enough to look down and the sight of his younger self hugging his leg made something in his chest crack open.  

Verso crashed to his knees, taking Gustave with him, a sob escaping him as he wrapped the boy up in his arms and once more buried himself into the safety that Gustave was offering.  Whatever reason there had been for two of them, it didn't exist here, holding them both tight.  He shuddered and clung tightly to the younger version of himself, and to Gustave, tears escaping as he cried and held on tighter than he'd ever dared to before.  

"You are a Painter, Verso," Gustave whispered softly.  "You have the memories and skillset of one.  Even if you have never manipulated the canvas the same way they did, the canvas responds to you, Verso.  The piece of your soul responds to what you want.  He is trying to give you what you want."  

'Your perspective is not the only one that exists.'

Verso inhaled sharply, his eyes slamming open as Gustave's words sank in.  Gustave... Gustave had seen a boy who was excited to share and talk about his work, who was proud of his choices, even if they were the choices of a child.  He'd... he'd seen an exhausted child, who was ready for nothing but rest, after having been made to work for so long.  

Perspective.  

"You're safe, it's all right, I have you," Gustave promised, keeping his wings wrapped tightly around both versions of Verso, holding onto them tight.  "You're safe," he promised, softly.  

Verso held onto the young version of himself, glad that he was being held back just as tight, letting himself lean on the support that Gustave was offering with his wings, breathing roughly as he let himself fall apart.  Eventually though, there was a small hand on his face wiping away the tears, and tracing the scar over his eye.  He swallowed and shifted in Gustave's arms, glad when the hold was gentled, but they were still wrapped in the comfort of Gustave's wings.  

One more sign that he was forcing this hurt on himself, both literally and figuratively.  Verso sighed and was glad when Gustave's wings seemed to press closer, offering support.  Reaching the end, what he had thought was the end, only to stumble at the last moment, completely lost with how he wanted to proceed was not what he had thought would happen when he got here.  

"What do we do now?"  Verso whispered.  He shuddered, but then a small hand tugged at his jacket and he turned his attention back to the small version of himself, who was bouncing excitedly.  He shivered when Gustave's wings were pulled back, and followed the tugging from the smaller version of Verso who was pulling him back toward the painting on the floor.  Verso knelt down and blinked in surprise when a paintbrush was offered to him, his heart seizing at the sight of it, reaching out for it hesitantly when it was offered to him again.  

Gustave watched, his heart in his throat as he stared at Verso painting together with his younger self, the two of them talking together as they smiled and worked on a part of the painting together.  Tears filled his eyes and he looked to the side, breathing in deeply.  If Verso did decide after all of this, that it was time to end things, then at least he would have been offered the closure that he deserved, several times over.  

Eventually, movement caught his eye and Gustave watched Verso hand the paintbrush back to his younger self and he straightened up, turning so their eyes could meet.  Gustave offered him a small smile as Verso approached, determination clear on his face.  "What did you paint?" 

Verso stopped, stuttering, and glanced back at the painting, swallowing hard.  "I... we turned the monolith into a mountain."  

Gustave smiled.  "Fitting."  He watched Verso take a few steps closer until they were face to face again.  "Is it time?"  

Verso let out a breath and shuddered, tightening his hands into fists.  "I, I think so."  

"All right," Gustave said, reaching out to take Verso's hand and squeezed it.  "I'll be right here, with you.  The whole time."  

Chroma gathered in the hair, heavy and cloying, responding to what he was about to do to the painting, and Verso clenched Gustave's hand tight, breathing heavily.  The weight of ordering it to do something, to obey his command was there, and all he would have to do is reach out and seize it.  There was another comforting squeeze of his hand from Gustave and Verso looked up at the storm of chroma above him.  

"Gustave?" he whispered, watching the swirl get stronger and stronger.  

"Yes?"  

Verso clenched his eyes shut and felt another tear run down his face.  "Don't let go?"  

"I won't."  

Verso lifted his free hand and looked up at the chroma swirling above them and commanded it down and into him with a thunderclap of power, gritting his teeth as it flooded into him and Gustave, ripping and tearing at both of them, until everything went completely, blessedly black.  

~!~

Gustave woke up.  

Was he supposed to wake up? 

He sat up in a rush, familiar worn wood under his fingertips, gentle waves beneath it, and the hum of the dome that he hadn't realized he missed until it wasn't there any longer.  His head snapped up and he stared at the dome above him and looked around wildly, his wings flaring out behind him.  

Lumière.  He was somehow back in Lumière.  

"Verso?" he shouted.  A look around showed no one else, so Gustave shoved himself to his feet and began running toward the town.  He didn't have much time to stop Verso from doing something foolish, but he would do it, the stubborn bastard.  He used his wings to propel himself forward, racing for the top of the stairs, and froze at the sight of Verso, golden petals swirling around him before they bled out and into the crowd in steady waves.  

"Verso!" he shouted again, charging forward, meeting Verso's eyes for the briefest of seconds before Painter Chroma pulsed out of Verso in a desperate, heavy wave, sweeping out and over Lumière, the golden petals scattering at his command.  Gustave caught Verso just before he hit the ground, cradling him carefully, lifting his eyes to watch the petals descend on the city.  "You, putain, what did you do?" he snarled, looking up at the growing murmur of voices that was getting steadily louder.  "What did you do?"  

"Merde, stop shouting," Verso muttered, glaring up at Gustave.  "Giving me a headache."  

Gustave's full attention snapped down to Verso and not to the golden petals falling on Lumière and the shouts that were starting to echo across the city.  "Verso," he breathed, relieved, staring down at him.  "What, what did you, are you all right?" 

Verso turned and pressed himself closer to Gustave, breathing out roughly, reaching out to trace his fingertips along the softness of the feathers.  "Alicia made you my guardian angel.  That's what she brought you back as."  

Gustave swallowed, shivering at the gentle touch to his wings.  "I gave it words and intent.  She gave it form," he agreed, holding on tighter.  "She wanted you to have someone.  Whether just at the end, or for as long as possible.  She wanted you to have someone."  

Verso smiled weakly and nodded, exhaling.  "You are certainly stubborn enough for it."  His eyes shut and he exhaled.  "Not doing anything with the Canvas chroma for a long, long time, now."  

Gustave's breath caught and he tried to fight down the hope, didn't let himself believe that he'd succeeded, that there was some sort of a future for them that he hadn't seen.  "What did you do?"  

"Mmm," Verso hummed.  "Got rid of the Nevrons that my father had used.  Turned the battlefields to flowers.  Flooded power into parts of the canvas that have gone without for too long and then..." he exhaled roughly.  "Could only undo the last two gommages, but I managed that."

A tremble went through Gustave's body as he realized that the shouts he could hear above them, in the city, were shouts of excitement and shock.  He glanced behind them and found that the monolith was indeed gone, and in its place was a mountain that he had no doubt the Gestrals and Grandis would be calling home soon enough.  

"You decided to stay?" Gustave asked, after a long while, even as he watched the city come alive around them.  Someone would notice them soon enough, would notice his wings, would notice Verso, and have questions for them, but right now, right here, he didn't need to let go of Verso.  

Verso hummed.  "I decided," he breathed softly.  "To carry it with you.  Rather than alone."  He pressed his fingers tighter to Gustave's feathers.  "If that's what you want.  I can put you back to normal, instead."  

Gustave reacted instinctively, wrapping Verso up in his arms and his wings, holding onto him as tightly as he could, burying his face in Verso's hair, breathing roughly.  "No.  This is my normal.  Carrying the burden with you.  So you never have to be alone again."  

Verso trembled, and shuddered, holding onto Gustave just as tight, clinging to him, even as the sound of the crowd noticing the lack of monolith started to come closer.  "You're sure?"  

With a grunt, Gustave got them both back on their feet and wrapped his metal hand around Verso's, staring at him pointedly.  He glanced at the crowd and started to pull Verso down an alley and toward his apartment.  It took several minutes for them to avoid running into anyone, but when Gustave at last opened the door and shut it behind him, he sighed in relief and turned to Verso.  

"Reunions can wait, this is important," Gustave said, stepping in front of Verso, relaxing his wings and moving into his space again, reaching up to cup his jaw in his palm.  "Yes, I am sure," he breathed, leaning in to brush their noses together.  "You are never going to lose me and I am never going to abandon you.  You are stuck with me.  For as long as you want to be."  He released Verso's hand to press his palm to Verso's heart and leaned into him.  "I am right where I want to be."  

Verso swallowed and reached out for Gustave, pulling him closer by his waist, shivering when Gustave's wings brushed over his arms and back, making a cushion as Gustave pressed him back and against the door.  "I... you're..." he shivered.  "Gustave."  

"I am choosing to be here," Gustave breathed.  "I am not beholden, I am not required, I am not tied here.  I want to be here.  Do you understand me?  I want to be where you are, Verso.  No matter where that is."  

Verso tilted his head and kissed Gustave, tugging on him until they were pressed together and he was surrounded by the warmth and soft comfort of Gustave and his wings.  There was a growing ball of Painter's chroma between them, and when Gustave pointedly tugged it away from him, Verso broke the kiss, gasping and glaring at him.  "You can't-" 

"Watch me," Gustave challenged.  He shifted and grabbed Verso's hands, pinning them back against the door, watching his whole body shudder.  "We're carrying it together.  My turn to carry it while you rest after what you did."  He leaned in to kiss Verso again, this time slower, deeper, lingering in every brush of their lips.  

Verso shuddered, clinging to Gustave, sliding his hands up and under his shirt, under his expeditioners jacket, digging his fingers into bare, warm skin.  "Gustave."  

"Bed," Gustave ordered softly, smiling into another kiss.  "We can face them all tomorrow.  But tonight, we have just us."  

"Us," Verso echoed.  That word hit harder than it had any right to, the affirmation that he was no longer alone, would never be alone, because Gustave would never allow it.  He kissed the growing smile off of Gustave's face and laughed, hard, as he was carried directly to bed.