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The footsteps make a soft thump on the dusty concrete, growing louder until they come to an abrupt stop. Ignis gauges that the person - Gladio, with all certainty - is standing about six feet away. Studying him. Maybe trying to decide what to say next. He draws in a thin breath and deliberately keeps his head turned to the railing, towards the sweeping view of Cartanica that he cannot see.
It feels strange, surreal almost, that they were down there mere hours ago. A lengthy shower and a clean set of clothes has chased the stench of swamp from his skin. In its place is a sense of triumph, an afterglow of a trial successfully completed. And he’ll bask in it while he can. Anything to chase away the darkness that lurks of the corners of his mind when he’s alone with his thoughts.
“I’m sorry.”
Two words, yet the weight of Gladio's sorrow and sincerity is unmistakable. It’s easy to picture Gladio's solemn expression and the sadness in those clear, amber eyes of his. The question remains though - sorry for what?
They haven’t spoken since they returned from the mine, when Gladio reiterated his position that Ignis had no business continuing on with them, so for all he knows, Gladio may just be apologising for speaking his mind. This... difference of opinion isn’t new. It boarded the train with them when they left Altissia, and doesn’t appear to be ready to part company with them just yet, despite the fact that Gladio's just watched him best a Marlboro whilst the rest of them fell to panic.
Ignis purses his lips, contemplating whether he should just tell Gladio he doesn’t want to do this now if it’s going to be yet another refrain of the same tired old song. Gladio has no right to taint his hard-won victory. They’ve disagreed over things in the past, but never has there been this... this schism between them.
“Iggy...” Gladio says, his voice now edged with misery, presumably because his apology has been met with silence. “I was wrong.”
He frowns. “About what?”
“Everything,” Gladio says on the exhale. There’s a sound, boots scuffing through the dirt, then the bench moves as Gladio comes to sit next to him. “You being here, you coming to Gralea. I should never have tried to convince Noct to leave you behind.”
“And yet you did,” Ignis says wearily. He loathes being at odds with Gladio, but after the last few weeks he needs a rationale as well as an apology - the former maybe even more so than the latter. “Several times in fact. The last time was only a few hours ago, which makes me curious as to your sudden change of heart.”
For a moment Gladio doesn’t respond. Their silences were always so companionable before Altissia; so many things between them were different before Altissia, a fact almost as painful as the loss of his eyesight. Gladio is here, their shoulders brushing lightly, and yet the distance between them is vast and daunting like the ocean they crossed several weeks earlier.
“I watched you down there,” Gladio says. “That entire time you were so strong and capable. You never once complained, even when you stumbled, even when we were at each other's throats. I told myself I’d say my piece one last time, but if you decided to stay with us then I had to accept it. I was angry... but walking back the more I thought about it, the more I realised I was wrong. I wanted to protect you,” Gladio explains. “You nearly died in Altissia; it felt like a wake up call about how much I could lose.” He senses Gladio turning to look at him. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Iggy.”
“And I, you. But we have our duties and they must always be our priority.”
“I know.” Normally Gladio gets annoyed by any comments in this vein, because devoting himself to the crown is the only life he knows and it's hardly like he needs to be reminded, but his voice carries only resignation this time. “And I'll always perform my duties to the best of my ability, but I have a duty toward you, whether you agree with that or not. You're” - there’s a tremor in Gladio's voice that wasn’t there moments before - “You’re my life, Iggy, and I... I can't watch you get yourself killed.”
This is the point where he should offer solace, but he can’t give Gladio what he’s asking for. A part of him - still hurt by Gladio's lack of faith - doesn’t want to either, and he wonders when he became so spiteful. The darkness laps at his feet, a tide of angry bitterness that, left unchecked, will swallow everything it touches.
“And if I promised you I wouldn’t die, would you grant me the same in return?” he asks knowing the answer already.
Gladio huffs out a breath, irritated perhaps. “You know I can’t do that, Iggy. I’m Noct's Shield. It’s different.”
“But how is it different?” he challenges. “As far as I’m concerned, the only difference between you and I is I can’t watch you get yourself killed.”
He hears Gladio inhaling sharply, the comment stinging, whip-cracking across the space between them. In the distance there’s a muffled clang, followed by a shout - a reminder that there is still a world out there as their train is being prepared for departure. Ignis shifts and laces his hands together in his lap. They need to be building bridges here, not burning them down to score cheap points against each other.
“Whilst I understand your reasons, I’d be lying if I said your actions haven’t hurt me, Gladio. Like you, all my life, I’ve dedicated myself to Lucis, and Noct. Everything I’ve ever done, from the moment I was brought into the royal household, has been for the good of our kingdom.”
He pauses, keenly aware of that bitter voice in his mind that wants him to question if it’s all been worth it. He ignores it, turning his face into the breeze.
“I understand your obligation to your duty because it mirrors my own, and I assumed, incorrectly it seems, that you would be able to see my point of view. It hurts me considerably that you think me so stubborn, so selfish even, that I would try to carry on performing my duties when I was no longer capable.”
Without vision, he’s not sure if Gladio's about to interject, but in truth, the doors to this conversation have now been opened, with no hope of closing them again until everything is out. It’s an opportunity to lance this wound, which he would be foolish not to take given how long it has festered for and the potential damage it could still do.
“Never for a minute would I jeopardise Noct's future, or the safety of any of you by putting my own desires first. Believe me, Gladio, I spent those long weeks in Altissia considering my situation and whether I should be staying with you, and if I'd come to the conclusion that the risks outweighed the benefits, then I would have willingly returned to Cape Caem with Cid. I spoke with Noct, several times in fact, to make it clear that I would bear him no ill will if he dismissed me from his service, but each time he asserted that the decision was mine to make. When I advised him I intended to stay by his side, he said he thought I’d made the right decision. Noct believes in me totally, and I will always be grateful to him for that.”
Gladio sighs into the pause. “And yet the one person you should've been able to count on was tryin' to push you to stay behind. I was so caught up with all the things you wouldn’t be able to do; I should've known nothing would stop you.”
Listening to Gladio acknowledging his mistakes is cathartic. The bitterness drains from him as the tide recedes.
“Don’t get me wrong, Gladio,” he says softly. “I know things will never be exactly the same; I'll never fight the way I did before, or drive the Regalia, so I must learn to contribute in different ways, to find my place again.” He stops abruptly, recognising where his emotions are taking him. With all the disagreements and dissent, he’s never even shared his feelings with Gladio. Maybe the time is now, even though every word cuts him like a knife.
“There are the small things too, of course. I'll never peruse Prompto's photographs with you all at camp, I'll never sit with you at sunrise, looking between the sky and your face and wondering which is more beautiful. Those are all things that I’ve irrevocably lost. And there will be other things - important things, no doubt - that I've not discovered yet, that I’ll either need to learn to live without, or accept that I’ll only do with help from others. But I won't allow myself to be a burden or to distract others from their duties. That much I’m certain of.
“And I can do it, Gladio,” he asserts, turning toward the other man even though there’s no gaze to meet. “This is my future no matter how unfortunate or inconvenient it is. I know I’ve got a long road ahead of me and that I’ll meet many barriers. But I’d prefer it if one of them wasn’t you.”
This is without a doubt the most he’s said to Gladio in weeks, but he realises just how overdue it is. He’s said what he needed to say; the rest is up to Gladio now. He bows his head, imagining his clasped hands on his knees. Suddenly there’s a warm pressure there, as Gladio’s own hand comes to rest atop his own, his calloused thumb stroking a path across his skin.
“I’m so sorry, Iggy,” Gladio says hoarsely. “I know I've let you down when you needed me the most. I wanted to protect you, and yet I’ve ended up hurting you more. The truth is I’m scared. I’m Noct's Shield. I'm the man you said you wanted to spend your life with. What if I can’t live up to either of those things? I’d convinced myself that I’d end up failing him and you if you stayed with us, because I’d be torn between protecting you both. I never stopped to think about you and what you wanted. I’m so sorry.”
Pulling one hand free, Ignis reaches up and finds Gladio's cheek. There’s wetness there. He can feel the tension in Gladio's posture, can sense Gladio's fear that he’s destroyed the connection between them with everything he’s said and done these last few weeks. Wordlessly, he pulls Gladio into his arms, acutely aware of how tightly Gladio returns the embrace.
“Please... just tell me what to do,” Gladio says into his neck. “Tell me how I make this right.”
When they eventually pull apart, his lips curve into a sad smile. “Just... have faith in me, Gladio. Trust me to know when something's too much and believe me when I say I’ll exercise my judgement and stop. That’s all I ask.”
“Okay,” Gladio says, sounding more like himself, like he’s been given an important mission, to which he will give his all. “You got it.”
Ignis nods, satisfied. “My situation is merely a setback,” he asserts confidently. “I have my remaining senses, my mind is still sharp... and I have you. With that combination I fail to see how I can be beaten.”
Gladio makes a noise, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sniff. “You’re pretty unstoppable, Iggy,” he agrees. “That fuckin' Marlboro didn’t know what hit it.”
He smiles modestly. “Its demise did give me a certain amount of satisfaction, I’ll admit.”
For a moment neither of them says anything. This silence feels different, and he notices with no small amount of relief that the tide has gone out completely and the ground beneath his feet is dry. He’s succeeded in making Gladio understand that all isn’t lost - that although he might never see the sun again, he can still benefit from its warmth.
“I just need you believe I can do it,” he says finally. “Whatever it is, whatever I’m trying to achieve, I just need to know you believe in me, too.”
“Okay,” Gladio answers. “I can do that. But I need you to do me a favour too.”
“Which is?”
“You gotta promise to tell me if I’m gettin' it wrong, okay? I don’t wanna think I’m helping when, in reality, you're gettin' really pissed at me for not giving you the chance to do it for yourself. You might have to show me how you want me to help - like... for instance, if you need me guide you somewhere, how do I do that? I don’t wanna just grab your arm.”
“Well,” Ignis says, getting to his feet and brushing himself down before reaching for his cane. “In most instances when I require assistance I would instigate by taking hold of your elbow, but there are two other ways you can help me. Firstly, I would have no objection to you placing your hand in the small of my back.”
“Like this?” Gladio says, standing quickly and moving into position. His eagerness is frankly endearing.
“Quite.” Ignis turns his head to hide his smile.
“And the other way?”
With Gladio having taken the bait, he inches over a little until their bodies meet. A minor re-adjustment creates a small, but necessary gap. “Well, the alternative is, I put my arm here,” he says, reaching back with his left hand until his fingers meet the dip of Gladio’s waist, “and you do the same to me.”
He feels Gladio's hand slide across the leather of his jacket until it comes to rest on his hipbone.
“It’s simply a matter of preference,” he says innocently, turning his face toward the other man, still smiling.
“Yeah,” Gladio says softly, the words growled like a promise as their faces almost touch. His fingers flex and curl possessively where they rest.
“I know which one gets my vote.”
End