Chapter Text
i.
It’s earlier than they would like when they have to leave the library.
Ignis protests, initially… but, as soon as he sees the lines of students crowding to get resources for upcoming classes, he quickly reconsiders and agrees they should go elsewhere and gathers the notes he’s been taking and the records they’ve managed to narrow down to.
It’s still… more than they’d like—old consensus records, as far back as they could go, as close as they could get to when Prompto was in Niflheim, mostly; two binders worth of laminated, photocopies of travel records, birth certificates, death certificates, military services, government offices—anything. Anything that could help them figure out how someone tracks a four year old runaway for more than a decade.
They trek towards their spot—Archean Hall. Damn what the campus may think, it is theirs. They can’t get up to the roof, unfortunately (Ignis scowls when Gladio mentions he could absolutely get them inside and up to the roof and gives his shoulder a warning slap to not do anything stupid)… so, they end up sitting on the steps, each with a notebook, occasionally making conversation, but mostly just pouring over numbers and names of people they don’t recognise in the least, trying to find even a sliver of a pattern.
Gladio’s the first one to notice how late it is.
The only bad thing about studying on the steps up to the hall is that they have really great lighting; enough that he’d only vaguely noticed the sun was no longer their source of light when his concentration suddenly breaks.
It takes him a minute to figure out that his phone is what's demanding his attention—steady vibrating and text noises—and he finally fishes it out of his pocket; Iris telling him she’s probably going to forget later and wishing them a happy new year early. Likely so she can focus on spending the last few hours of the year with Aranea and maybe Prompto and Noctis if the two couples can actually focus on someone other than their partners. He smiles a little and sends a quick reply ('You too, sis. Don't do anything I wouldn't.') before pocketing his phone and reaching over, gently brushing his fingers up Ignis’ arm as a proximity warning before he squeezes his shoulder.
“Hey, c'mon… it’s getting late, we should head back.”
He smiles at the way Ignis startles from his concentration and nods over his shoulder in a gesture, “I didn’t notice, either; but, we’ve been out here for hours.”
Ignis just blinks at him and looks around, confused, before he seems to realise it is dark.
“I—it was barely five when we got here, what time—”
“A bit after nine.” Gladio struggles not to laugh at the under breath swearing and carefully stands, stretching out with a small groan, “Oof… oh yeah. We’ve definitely been out here way too long, Specs.”
He reaches a hand out help pull Ignis to his feet and, this time, he does laugh when his fiancé stumbles; he manages to catch him by both arms and keeps a hold on him until he regains his sense of balance, “Straight home, then?”
“That would be… most beneficial, yes.” Ignis is still frowning, clearly perplexed by the sudden loss of time, “I’ve never… we never… how?”
Gladio leans over to kiss his forehead—mostly to be annoying and rub his face in Ignis’ hair in an attempt to mess up the styled fringe; it earns him the sought after scowl and another light slap.
“Don’t worry about it, Iggy. We just got a little wrapped up. Same thing used to happen when you studied for tests before we started dating. Do you know how hard it was to distract you from being responsible back then?”
Ignis smiles, “I recall you had rather inventive methods of distracting me.”
“Yeah, by invoking your legendary rage.” Gladio laughs again, picking up all the books and notebooks, except the one that Ignis had been pouring over, “I think those were honestly some of my best plans ever.”
“I nearly took your eye out with a pencil once.”
“Nearly. Key word there. Nearly.”
As they begin the trek back across campus (Gladio momentarily curses himself for not considering moving the car closer because that is a damn long walk), he looks back over his shoulder, up at the tip of the gazebo, barely peeking up from the roof of Archean Hall and smiles, “Scratch that.”
Ignis stops and looks back at him. He imagines he’s confused for a moment; just a moment before he hears a breathless laugh and knows he's looking, too.
“I agree. Those silly pranks can’t even hold a candle to your best plan.”
“You mean it?”
He knows the answer. Of course he knows the answer. But even so, sometimes he still can’t believe it. He managed to propose. Ignis said yes without second thought. Without letting him finish.
They were really doing this.
Ignis answers by leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.
“I do.”
Two simple words.
Just as simple as the other three words that send a jolt of pleasant electricity up his spine and he cannot, no matter how hard he tries, suppress the smile as they continue towards the parking lot.
ii.
Gladio immediately regrets suggesting they cut away from the main path in favour of a short cut because it takes them way too close to the dorms and frat houses and he ends up running into some of his teammates. It’s not that he doesn’t like them… but he’d really like to get home.
Ignis makes absolutely no move to save him from the conversations, either; he just smiles, gives a passing wave that is more or less confirming they can stay a while (when Gladio really wants nothing more than to fall over on the couch—or, probably, their bed because he has no idea who all is home at the moment), and immediately devotes his attention to the book he’d been pouring over earlier.
Some of his friends try to question why they have so many books—why Gladio, specifically has so many books and Ignis only has the one and his notebook. It isn’t hard to brush it off as all of them being Ignis’ and Gladio just carrying them (it’s not a total lie, even though technically the books aren’t either of theirs… no one needs to know they aren’t for course work, though) and telling them they spent the afternoon studying to get a head start on the upcoming term.
It takes longer than he expects to get away and he doesn’t even manage until he’s insisting that he really can’t drink because, with the way Ignis is glued to his material, Gladio’s going to be the one driving. Another ten minutes of denying the drinks being pushed his way and he finally just grabs Ignis’ arm, smiles, says bye, and retreats before anyone has a mind to try grabbing him.
Once they’re well enough away, he finally groans, “You could have helped me, you know!”
“Oh, but it’s so much fun watching you socialise.”
“You weren’t even watching.”
Ignis gives him a look over the rim of his glasses without raising his head, “Gladio… do tell me… between the two of us… which of us is the better multitasker?”
Gladio concedes the point with a sheepish smile, a small chuckle, and a little half shrug as he carefully adjusts his hold on the books to balance them in one arm.
Ignis’ attention falls completely back to the book in his hands and Gladio finds himself wondering just how he manages to read in the in-between lights.
Of course, a few feet later, he has to reach out to catch his fiancé’s arm, barely pulling him out of the way of a lamp post, “At least wait until we’re in the car, Iggy. You’re going to crash into something at this rate. Never mind making your eyesight worse.”
“My eyes will be fine. I’ve read and taken notes in worse lighting than this. Besides, I won’t run afoul anything. I’ve you here, don’t I?” Ignis still doesn’t look up, but Gladio can still see the smile and feels a familiar warmth in his chest that ends in him smiling as well.
“Yeah… yeah you do. Watch your footing, we’re at the stairs.”
It’s easy enough to guide Ignis back to the car, gentle touches and an occasional pull when he needs him to veer just a little more left to avoid tripping or walking into anything else.
As they get closer to the car, however, Gladio falls back a few steps, grins, and pulls out his phone, quickly opening the video recorder.
Thank the Six Iggy always parks near lights. He repeats the gratitude when the lighting proves just enough to get the perfect video of Ignis’ extraordinarily rare display of inattentive clumsiness.
He nearly doubles over laughing, when his fiancé walks into his car and lets out a startled, indignant yelp at the sudden impact.
“What in the—Gladio!”
“Right, so, what was that about multitasking, Mr. Scientia?”
The rare moment of ineloquence, the protesting, the priceless flustered expression when he throws Gladio a glare is enough for him to regret absolutely nothing. He ends the video before Ignis turns, manages to get a perfect picture of the glare, and quickly shoves the phone back in his front pocket before Ignis can grab for it.
He grins and makes a gesture, daring the other man to still try and get the phone; he laughs, again, when Ignis merely adjusts his glasses.
“You’re quite a toddler at times. Have I told you that, lately?”
“Three times today, babe.” Gladio closes the distance between them and leans down for a quick kiss and effortlessly pilfers the keys from inside Ignis’ jacket pocket, “I’ll drive. There’s a flashlight in the dashboard. Lemme know when you find something fun.”
“This isn’t ‘fun’, Gladio.” Ignis frowns and slides into the passenger seat (he looks hilariously and adorably confused for a moment when he immediately reaches over his left shoulder before remembering the seatbelt is on his right), “Whatever… this is, it’s something absolutely terrifying to Prompto and enough to make Aranea suspicious of the man running our school.”
“… Iggy, I love you; but, that man walking is enough to make someone suspicious of him.” Gladio’s voice deadpans when he turns the keys in the ignition. His lips curl into what could almost be a malicious grin as he backs out of parking and starts towards the exit, “It’ll be fun enough, when we have names for who hurt our baby siblings. I know they won’t fuck with Iris again… Prompto ain’t goin’ nowhere alone anytime soon, so we shouldn’t have to worry 'bout him… but I’m still gonna make damn sure they know how much of a mistake it was.”
Ignis sighs, “We’ve been through this. Physical retribution is not going to solve this—”
“—Never said I was gonna return the favour. I’ve had enough time to simmer and acknowledge you were right about that at least. I just want them to know that I know which ones were involved. Especially since you could have just as easily been out shopping with the girls.”
To that, Ignis has nothing to add. He goes quiet and turns his attention back to the records he’s been going through all afternoon. They both know that if Iris and Ignis had both been part of the attack things would have gone very differently that night.
The silence is heavy at first, mangled with their suspicions and the weight of Gladio’s declaration. But, as things do, the tension leaves and the silence is comfortable.
In passing, Gladio glances at the clock on the dashboard and blinks in surprise.
He knew they’d been distracted for a while, talking to his friends from the baseball team, but he hadn’t suspected to have been distracted so long that it was nearing midnight. It’s taking longer than normal to navigate their way off campus, too, due to all the stray cars from people gathering for the countdown celebration and he eventually ends up having to take an even bigger detour to the outskirts of campus to avoid them. Yeah, they have to drive a longer distance, but it’s probably going to take the same amount of time and he at least doesn’t have to worry about any drunk university students running into the road this way.
Either way, there is no way they were going to be back at the apartment by midnight, even if he ignored the speed limit and any offending stop or yield signs… and, Ignis would give him the cold shoulder for hours if he did that, so, he really wasn’t in too much of a hurry, despite keeping a close eye on the clock.
At 11:53, they hit a stop sign. They’re barely ten minutes from the apartment, but this… this is good enough. Just so he isn’t being a complete asshole about it—because he can see some people still driving the perimeter like they’d been doing, though no one appears to be on the streets that would intersect with them—he pulls off onto the shoulder just past the intersection, shifts the car into park and pulls the emergency brake up.
Without having to worry about anyone being anal about getting stuck behind them or waiting for them to cross the intersection, he easily splits his focus between the clock and Ignis.
At 11:56, Ignis finally seems to realise they haven’t been moving for a while and looks up, clearly confused.
“What’s wrong?”
11:57
Gladio grins and gestures towards the clock by tilting his head, “Nothin’.”
Ignis follows the motion, blinks, and finally smiles to show he understands, “Ah.”
“This ok?”
“We could have made it back.”
“Woulda been rushed.”
Ignis gives a small laugh to show he agrees.
11:58
Ignis closes the book in his lap and sets it down in the floorboard with the other books and notebooks. There’s still a ghost of a smile on his face and all Gladio can really focus on is the way he can just barely make out the flush of colour on his cheeks and the way it makes his chest feel light.
11:59—no, just before the clock changes, his nerves are suddenly on high alert. He sits up a little straighter and looks around the parking lot, but…
Nothing?
11:59
Ignis regards him with a frown, but he doesn’t ask. If Gladio’s instincts are in 'danger mode', he needs the quiet. Instead, he looks out his own window, squinting into the darkness, before he gives Gladio another look. He may motion for the keys, silently asking if they should leave, but something—something tells Gladio they shouldn’t try to move.
He can’t find it. He knows there’s something but what—
12:00
He hears it before he sees it. Under the sudden fireworks and muffled cheering coming from campus, he can hear it—can almost feel it. Engines from three sides. No headlights, moving fast in the dark—even under light posts and fireworks lighting up the area, black vehicles, no defining decal or visible license plate. Ignis notices a split second later, just as Gladio reaches over to use his arm to push him back, his mind racing a million miles a second—
Airbags are meant for you to be sitting back, proximity determines damage, sit back—
The first hit is to the back.
His arm keeps Ignis in place, fingers curled tight in his jacket to keep his grip; his seatbelt keeps him from hitting the steering wheel and he barely has a split second to register the delayed release of the airbags.
His releases just before the second hit—the front of the car, passenger side, grazes the hood.
He feels his arm protest as the inflation in the bag causes it to burst, feels the burn on his shoulder, his chest, but doesn’t move, doesn’t pull his arm away from Ignis, even when he feels the other man trying to pry his grip loose.
Everything is muffled and simultaneously ringing. He thinks he hears Ignis—his name? he can’t tell—before a third hit—another one to the back of the car.
This time, he feels his forehead collide with the steering wheel, feels the force split skin and feels the blood running down his face. Senses overwhelmed, struggling to stay awake, he’s only vaguely aware of his surroundings.
Ignis is looking out his window again when the sensor in his airbag finally triggers and a fourth hit rams into the passenger side before everything goes black.
iii.
The next thing he sees is a white ceiling.
Popcorn ceiling.
White curtains.
Their curtains aren’t white, where the hell—
Crying. Specifically, Iris’ crying.
Against his better judgement, Gladio immediately tries to sit up only to let out a startled swear when he falls back into the bed, struggling for breath, “What the Hell—”
“Gladdy—Gladdy, st-stop moving, you’ll m-make it worse!” Iris cries harder but she doesn’t try to still him; instead, it’s Aranea who pushes him down, despite a loud protest from Iris.
Immediately, Gladio feels searing pain where Aranea touches him and he snarls at her in response. Her own lips curl back in warning, eyes narrowing down at him, “Hold. The fuck. Still. Ain’t doin’ no one, least of all yourself, any favours thrashin’ around like that. Iris,” she glances up without letting Gladio up, “Go find the nurse. Let’m know he’s awake.”
“R-right—right, I’ll try to call Noct again, too, I—right.”
He hears the door close but it still takes him a moment longer to register what was said.
“Nurse—what nurse, where the fuck—why am I—”
His mouth snaps shut as the events start to catch up with him.
Parking lot. Fireworks. Airbag—Ignis.
Aranea pushes more of her weight down on him when he begins to struggle; it doesn’t stop him, this time and he can tell she’s struggling to keep him down.
“Where is he.”
Not a question. A demand. He has to be ok—he can’t be—he’s alive.
Just in the waiting room.
Just in the waiting room, just signing papers, release forms, they’re going home—
“—stening to a word we’re saying?”
He’s brought back by Aranea’s voice and realises there’s suddenly a nurse standing over him as well. Patient. Too straight-faced. Asking him questions he doesn’t care about. How does he feel, does anything feel numb, feel like it’s burning, cold—pointless.
He tries to ask about Ignis between these questions, but the nurse gives him no room to do so for what feels like forever.
“Well… being awake is certainly a positive development. We’ll monitor you the rest of the night and for the next few days. We’re just waiting for your friend—”
“Fiancé.” Gladio growls, patience wearing thinner by the second. Ignis is fine. If they’re waiting he’s fine, he’s just out at the moment, that’s all.
The nurse pauses, alarmed, and throws Aranea a look. She just smirks at him—has clearly already had this conversation and been brushed off—and crosses her arms. Gladio only barely takes note of the way she pulls a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at the flesh, despite the initial smirk.
A beat of silence and the man finally continues.
“Your… fiancé to wake up. The police are backed up, it being New Years, but they will be here to take your statement within the next hour or so, I’m certain—”
He stops listening shortly after 'police’. He hears the words but they don’t mean anything.
Wake up.
They’re waiting for him to… no. No, no, no, no, no.
It’s getting hard to breathe again and he can hear machines beeping in protest around him. He hears people moving around—a door closing, voices protesting, can’t be sure, but a few moments later, everything is muffled again and steadily getting darker once more.