Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
LUMIÈRE
Gustave was unsurprised to find Maelle in the Hanging Gardens. After all, it was a place she loved. Somehow the trauma of the Gommage hadn't tainted her affection for flowers at all. She had always been a strong girl. Gustave, for his part, couldn't claim his heart didn't skip a beat whenever he caught a petal on the breeze. Even knowing Sophie was returned to them for good, even knowing they had no cause to fear imminent death any longer, the memories remained, immutable.
He rolled his fingers at his side and took a deep breath, steadying himself, working out the tension. As best he could, anyway, when he knew all too well that hers was about to rub off on him. She was stiff as a statue, and just as silent. Gustave could only hope that breaking that silence wouldn't shatter her like stone.
"Hi," he said, throat tight enough to strangle his pitch. He did his best to clear it, and tried again. "Hi, um... Emma was looking for you." A bit better. Gustave took another deep breath at the same time he took a few steps forward, praying silently to nothing and no one in particular that he sounded less awkward than he felt. Unlikely though that was. "Not that I'm just here to play her errand boy, you understand. I just wanted... You know, I've been... It's been hard for you. I can tell. We all can."
Maelle didn't move. Not at first, anyway. She kept her gaze tightly fixed on the sky, as though searching it for answers. A moment of silence passed between them, stretching long enough that Gustave nearly began to speak again just to fill it.
And then, she turned to look at him from over her shoulder, and Gustave felt his guts twist at the sight of her swollen eyelids, her reddened nose. A million unspoken phrases flashed across her expression, and Gustave wished he had an answer to each. Then her eyes began to shimmer, her waterline wobbling and then flooding over as her composure tragically crumbled.
"Gustave," she choked. "Gustave, what am I... What am I doing wrong, Gustave?" The gates to her grief thrown wide, she buried her sobs into her trembling hands and curled into herself, her body collapsing beneath the weight of her burden. Guilt gnawed at Gustave's heart as he closed the distance between them, as he pulled her close against his breast and stroked her hair, slow and soothing.
Without asking, he already knew exactly what this was about. What else could it have been about? It had been the one lingering stain left behind in the wake of it all. A stain that Maelle refused to erase, just as her mother had.
If he were to be fully honest with her, Gustave would have answered that what she was doing wrong was continuing to try. It was a lost cause. He was a lost cause. At least, that was Gustave's belief. Maelle still seemed determined to hope. Sciel, too, and even Sophie. But Gustave liked to think he was good at recognizing futility...even if he'd been wrong a few times in the past.
Fuck the mission, indeed.
"You've done everything right," he said. It was a line he'd practically rehearsed, an unending refrain sung by all who knew Maelle's struggle. "You can't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault. None of this is."
"It happened again." Maelle's voice trembled against Gustave's chest, the weight of her words falling heavy between them. She wove her arms tight around his waist, her hands curling into fists in the fabric of his blazer. On instinct, he mirrored her embrace.
"I-it happened again last night," she stammered. "He just keeps... He won't... I..." She let out another broken sob as she shook her head into Gustave's dampening shirt. He could feel her body sinking into his as her knees weakened, and he tightened his hold to keep her upright and steady. She sounded ready to suffocate, like her sadness was pulling her underwater, deeper and deeper, until she could draw nothing into her lungs but the drowning water of her tears. To see her breaking like this only broke Gustave's heart in turn.
"Maelle, hey..." He was careful as he walked her to the nearest bench, thankfully only two backward steps away. As he sat, he guided her down along with him, never letting go of her, never letting her feel alone. Never again. Never again.
"I know you're trying," he said, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while he continued to stroke her hair, combing his fingers steadyingly through the silver strands, separating them before letting them flow back together again—an endless, rhythmic pattern, one that would hopefully hold her focus, give her something different to think about, if only for a moment.
"We all do," he added. "We've all seen how hard you're working to make things right. I... I don't know if I'd have the strength to do it myself."
But Gustave also didn't know if he had the strength to continue to watch Maelle destroy herself like this. If Verso wanted to, he could continue on like this forever, keeping Maelle caught in a trap of unending despair. Because she'd never give up on him, even though he'd long since given up on himself.
Gustave couldn't imagine willfully inflicting that on anyone, even in his darkest moments. It was a cruelty far beyond him.
He sat with Maelle in silence as she wept. Time passed. The breeze nipped at his skin where it had grown wet. A few stray petals danced through the air. When she finally spoke, her voice was thin and wilting. "I just wish he'd speak to me again."
Before Gustave could formulate a response, he was catching her as she sank into his lap, the flow of her tears renewed, hot and heavy. "He won't even look at me," she sobbed, her heightened pitch threatening to shatter on nearly every syllable. "H-he won't even acknowledge that I'm there, that I'm there to help, that I just want... That I just..."
Gustave's reply caught on his tongue, but for once, he was glad for it. If not for stopping, he might have made things worse.
Because he doesn't want help, he didn't say. The man wants to die, and there's nothing you can do to sway him.
It was a conversation he'd shared with Sophie already, one that ended at an impasse, the very same sort they'd once faced when discussing the possibility of children. Their disagreements these days were infrequent but left them in simmering stalemates, and this one in particular was currently doing a number on their relationship. Gustave knew the tension would inevitably break with a concession on his part, though, because she was right, and Sciel was right, and Maelle was right, too; there was a part of Verso, somewhere in there, that still wanted saving. There had to be, or else he wouldn't have followed Maelle to the end. It was just a matter of finding it, and wrenching it out.
A shame Gustave was nowhere near as good with humans as he was with machinery. Lacking expertise, he had no useful advice to offer, and that was making it difficult for him to comfort Maelle.
Gustave often found a loving touch served better than empty words, at least, and he hoped Maelle felt that sentiment as he worked his fingertips against the back of her neck.
Even without any shared blood to bond us, he thought, I'll always be your brother. More so than this Verso ever was or will ever be.
Eventually, with enough time to effectively ground herself, Maelle came back to him. With a shake of her head, she lifted herself back up at his side. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a ragged whisper. "I-I know this a lot. You didn't sign up for any of it, either. It's just..." To Gustave's surprise, she suddenly barked out a rueful laugh, even as she gazed down at her hands in hollow defeat. "It's a lot."
Gustave nodded with an agreeing hum. She turned to face him then, and he couldn't help but notice just how exhausted she looked. Her eyes were encircled in darkness, her cheeks gaunt. He had to wonder if she'd slept recently.
"What would you do," she asked, quiet, as though imploring him for secrets, "if it were me instead? Would you keep fighting, or would you let me go?"
That certainly put things into perspective. Maelle must have truly seen Verso as a brother if she was asking Gustave to think of a similar situation involving his own adopted sister. And she was, clearly.
Gustave hated how jealous it made him feel. He knew it was irrational of him. He knew she'd have treated the situation no differently if it had been him; but then, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? That she'd thought of Verso this way in the first place was troubling; that her questions forced Gustave to think of Verso as his own brother by proxy was even more so.
"You know I'd never let you go," Gustave firmly reassured her, looping his arm around the small of her back to keep her close. "I'd keep trying, every day, no matter what. Not a day would pass by that I wouldn't visit you there in your room. I'd tell you stories, bring you trinkets. Maybe even style your hair once or twice," he added with a smirk, playfully making a scissor motion with his fingers.
But now that he thought about it, he hadn't visited Verso's room even once. Then again, he hadn't felt the need to. It wasn't like he knew the man at all. They hadn't traveled or fought together. They had never been allies, or even enemies. Verso was a stranger to Gustave, and what reason could he possibly have had to visit a stranger?
No, that wasn't right. It was never about knowing someone personally. It was about helping anyone and everyone, even those people who hadn't yet been conceived, out of a shared sense of humanity, a common struggle. And wasn't Verso just as much a human as anyone else? Did he not share a struggle in common with all the people of Lumière?
He'd need a night to sleep on it, but maybe it was time to pay the man a visit after all. If nothing else, Gustave had a few grievances to air.
Gustave had fallen so deep into his thoughts that Maelle's voice nearly made him jump physically out of them. "You'd have to promise me that I could cut your hair in turn," she said, a smile on her face, a teasing edge to her tone. "Though... I'd let you."
But just as soon, her smile faltered, and she was back to hanging her head again. "I'm sorry," she muttered, looking to Gustave from the corner of her eye. "For worrying you, and the others. And for making you sit through..." She made a small, vague gesture. "Sit through that."
Gustave reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and gently dabbed at her eyes, the soft fabric dutifully wicking away the lingering moisture. "You know I don't mind," he said. "Please, don't apologize. There's no need for that here." Satisfied that her face was sufficiently dry, he returned the cloth to his pocket and offered her an affectionate pat on the cheek.
"If you're feeling up for it," he said, "Emma is still requesting your help. I'd hate to trouble you while you're already feeling troubled, but it might help to have some distraction."
Truth be told, Gustave was still unclear on all the details. It was something to do with rearranging décor, from what he understood of the project, and whatever the specific undertaking was, it was something that a Paintress's talents could expedite. Maelle, therefore, would be an invaluable asset, if willing.
It seemed she agreed, as she nodded, slowly taking in a deep breath. "Yeah," she said on the exhale, offering Gustave a weak smile. "Yeah, you're right. It'll be better than drowning in my own sorrows." Her voice momentarily wavered on the final syllable, but she remained strong. She shook her head and blinked away the last hint of tears, and there she was again, the brave and confident girl he knew so well.
Gustave couldn't help the swelling of pride in his chest. "After you, then," he said as he gestured her forward.
Since Maelle's victory in the decisive battle had secured the future of Lumière, the Expedition's communal workshops had accordingly been repurposed. What had once served as spaces to construct and store weapons and propulsion equipment had shifted to general storage for civil engineering projects. Preliminary planning for the construction of the Landbridge was underway, and every individual Expeditioner with the relevant education and experience had been enlisted to assist. Gustave had been one of the earliest appointed to design duty, and he took that responsibility seriously.
Or he did in theory, anyway. Gustave had been staring at the same spot on his paper for at least ten unbroken minutes, his pen hand suspended in front of it, poised to make contact but never quite meeting. There were already lines there—and written measurements, with formulae drafted beside them—but they weren't rightly connected into shapes. Something was blocking them from joining together in the middle, and that something was the jumbled mess of emotions swirling around in his brain, turning his thoughts from a well-practiced symphony into a cacophonous storm.
Groaning, he dropped his arms to the desk and his face into his arms, his nose scrunching up against the metal of his prosthesis. This was impossible. He couldn't work under these conditions. But whose fault were they? His, and his alone.
He was starting to wish he'd gone off with Maelle and Emma after all. At least then he'd actually be doing something. At the moment, he was doing the exact opposite of something, and it felt awful.
Taking in a deep breath, he slowly sat himself back up again, running his fingers back through his hair to comb it away from his face. Right, he thought. From the top, then.
He was too distracted by his own thoughts to notice the sounds of footsteps or the knock on the doorframe. Instead, it was the sudden voice right to his side that jerked him back to reality. "Gustave," Sciel said with an audible smile. "Chroma for your thoughts?"
Gustave's pen flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor as he nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. "Fuck!" he gasped, quickly doubling over to scoop up the implement before it could roll away and nearly bumping his head straight into Sciel's chest in the process. "Putain, Sciel, you could have given me a little more warning."
Retrieving his pen and brushing his curls back away from his forehead with a sigh, he seated himself once more and just tried to focus on getting his pulse back to somewhere near normal again. His thoughts could wait their turn. Sciel, for her part, had already backed away, and was politely doing the same.
After he'd had a minute to compose himself again, she took her opportunity to speak. "Are you all right, Gustave?" she asked, her eyes finding his and holding a steady gaze that, admittedly, made him feel pinned. "You seem a little tense." With a playful look, she leaned in a little closer and gave him a poke on his shoulder. "Need a massage?"
Gustave took in a deep breath and let it out again, just closing his eyes, doing his best to project calmness. Even then, he could tell he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "You know, I think I'd like that, actually, if you're offering," he muttered, offering her a pained smile before he returned his attention to his work...or lack thereof. "I'm having a hell of a time concentrating right now, as you can probably tell."
Incomplete lines, a jumble of numbers that barely made sense. It looked like the scribblings of a child more than the blueprints of an engineer. Not that his blueprints tended to be known for their legibility to begin with, but this... This was dire. If it were an apprentice's work he was reviewing, he'd wonder if it might have been a cry for help.
Thankfully, Sciel was always open to heeding his unspoken distress signals. Without the hesitation of anyone less familiar, she stepped in behind him, put her hands to his shoulders, and began rubbing them, her touch gentle and immediately relaxing.
"I can tell, actually," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?" Gustave only groaned in response as the pressure of her hands slowly increased, as her thumbs began to press up on either side of his neck to rub out the tension surrounding his spine. He hadn't even realized just how tense he was until he could feel some of it begin to dissipate. "You can say no," she added, "but it might be good to air it out."
Gustave momentarily hesitated. Was it a good idea to share all of his ugliest feelings with her? Maybe, maybe not. They'd certainly discussed some difficult topics before, so it wouldn't be any new territory for them. Still, Sciel had gotten quite close with Verso, and her feelings for him still trended towards positive. Then again, given how perceptive she was, she'd probably already picked up on things without needing to be told.
"It's about Verso," he grunted, faintly wincing as she began digging into one particularly stubborn knot in the muscle. He didn't stop her, though. Gustave knew the pain was necessary before he could heal. "About what he's been doing to Maelle."
Sciel hummed knowingly. There was a pause before she spoke again. "I...don't think he's doing it intentionally," she started, cautious and slow. "But he has been causing her a great amount of pain, hasn't he?" There was a genuine sadness in her voice, one that spoke to the pain of natural empathy. It was equally present in her labored sigh. "I just wish he'd listen to us." Her pressure somewhat eased, but her hands never slowed. Gustave leaned forward and pillowed his cheek on his arms, just letting her work her magic. She truly had a talent for this. Pierre had been a lucky man. "But I also know how difficult it is, to try and find normalcy after something so...complicated."
"You might know that better than any of us," Gustave sighed. "What have you been saying to him, anyway?" He cracked open an eye and watched Sciel curiously, as best he could see her from this position. "And by you, I mean..." He made a rounded gesture with his wrist, indicating their general space. "You know. Everyone who's visited."
Truth be told, Gustave didn't even know what Maelle had been saying to Verso. All he knew was that he'd ignored it all. On some level, Gustave did wish that he could help, even though he still wasn't sure that Verso had done anything to earn it; but given how terrible he was with words, there wasn't really anything he could offer his friends as advice.
If there was one thing Gustave was sure he knew for certain, it was that nothing he could say would be of any help. He was probably one of the last people Verso would have wanted to come see him, in fact.
"Well, I certainly can't speak for everyone else," Sciel replied, her fingers pushing deep into Gustave's muscles, "but for me, personally... I just talk to him, I guess. I tell him about the weather, what time it is, if anything in particular is happening. I tell him about my mood, whatever it might be at the moment. I tell him about my students, or new songs I've heard.
"I've told him a little bit about what we used to do, you and I," she continued, offering Gustave a guilty look that made his chest sting. Before he could stop it, the feeling spread upward into his throat and nearly choked him.
"About what we used to do," he repeated.
"Sorry if you're not okay with that. For what it's worth, I doubt he'll remember when he finally comes to."
"I..." Gustave grimaced, forcing the sting back down again, only to feel it drop down into his souring stomach. "Well, I guess I don't really have anything to hide. And he'd probably learn about it eventually regardless."
Sciel snorted. "I didn't mean that, you silly goose," she teased, playfully pinching the shell of Gustave's ear. "I meant our time together at the farms. He'd expressed an interest during our travels, but I never got around to telling him the full story. I've just been catching him up with things now that we've got all the time in the world."
Gustave heaved a sigh of relief, one that momentarily hitched as Sciel resumed her massage, digging her thumbs into the muscle just below the base of his neck. "You're really wound up, aren't you?" she said, her tone soft, sympathetic. "I never see you like this, Gustave."
"I've just had a lot to think about," he grunted, closing his eyes again and breathing deep, in and out, nice and slow. "Since coming back, it's been... I don't know. It's just strange to think that I died, and now I'm here again. And while I was gone, the man who was supposed to step in to protect Maelle, he..."
Sciel let out a soft sigh that stopped him before he could attempt to cobble together the rest of his sentence. "He took care of her," she said, her tone more careful than admonishing. "He was good to her. I really, truly do believe he just wanted what was best for her."
Gustave would have called that into question, had he the words to do so.
"It's a difficult situation," she concluded. "I don't blame him for how he is now, but I do wish things could be better. I also wish they could be...simpler. I know what you mean, about the whole dying thing."
"Mm, that's right. You gommaged. You all did. Fuck..." Gustave shook his head into his arms. "But it was Verso's plan that led to everyone's death, wasn't it? The Expeditions, all of it was his idea. So many lives lost, and all for a lie. Sciel, I can't..."
Gustave finally eased himself away from Sciel's hands, turning around and gently taking hold of them. "I'm sorry, Sciel. But knowing what I know now, I can't bring myself to forgive him. Not yet, at least."
Sciel curled her fingers gently around Gustave's. "And that's okay," she said, a sad smile on her face. "It's a lot. And for you, most of all."
Gustave was glad Sciel agreed, at least. For the record, so had everybody else. Sophie hadn't tried to push him into anything, Maelle wasn't expecting any particular reactions or statements. Hell, Lune agreed with him on pretty much everything he felt about Verso, and she hadn't spoken to him either. And yet...
"Do you think I should talk to him, Sciel?" Gustave heard himself asking the question before he even fully realized the implications, and he immediately regretted saying anything.
"Only if you want to," Sciel said with a gentle squeeze of his hands. "Although it might be a good idea to at least think about doing it at some point. Just for Maelle's sake, in case he does end up coming around again. I'm sure she'd want you two to get along." She gazed into his eyes, earnest and kind. "Everything else aside, he's really not as bad as you think he is."
Gustave met that gaze and felt small beneath it. He knew he was just being stubborn all this time, clinging to his own personal vision of who and what Verso was because he was too cowardly to actually confront him and face the truth. But knowing that didn't make it any easier to accept it. Admitting to himself that he was being a coward forced him to confront the fact that he was being uncharitable to someone who was genuinely struggling. Someone who genuinely needed compassion. Someone Gustave was treating coldly for purely selfish reasons.
It wasn't like him to hold grudges, or to withhold grace. And maybe that was what had been causing him so much strife, all this time. He'd simply been running from the truth, because it was the easy way out.
Well. Easy for his heart, maybe. His mind, not so much.
"If I do go and visit with him, then..." Gustave shook his head. "That means admitting that I've been acting like a total knob this whole time. And that's easier said than done. To be honest, Sciel, I'm... I'm not proud of the person I've been. But it's been easier to justify it all if I can just pretend I'm in the right for feeling the way I do."
"Well, I think the opposite," Sciel said, her expression softening. "I think it means you'll have grown as a person. That you've come out of your shell with a willingness to explore and understand the other side. And you've always been good at that."
She reached out to adjust the collar of his shirt, pulling it carefully back into place. "In a way, you are justified in your feelings. You don't know Verso, and all he's ever done so far in your experience is cause someone you deeply care about a great amount of pain. You haven't had the chance to have a good experience with him yet, but if you're willing to try, that speaks volumes, you know."
"Sciel..." Gustave felt another pang in his chest, but this time it was another kind. Somehow, she always knew the right thing to say. She truly was a natural caregiver. The kind of person who just wanted to be there for others, selflessly.
He'd never considered himself more fortunate to call her a friend.
"Thank you," he said, folding his hands in his lap and smiling sadly up at her with a long-standing pain in his eyes. One that he was sure she'd both recognize, and understand without judgment. "I think I will talk to him after all. There are so many things I have to say. If I can find the right words, anyway."
Sciel gave him a slight smirk. "I'm sure you will," she said, reaching out to pat him on the cheek. "You just have to remember to articulate those words." She made a little mouth with her hand, opening it and closing it in a light-hearted gesture, the kind he had a habit of making as he spoke. He couldn't help but smile in return.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said, stepping away to put her hands on her hips. "And if you ever have any questions about him, I'll be here. Maelle, too."
"I know you will." Gustave looked back momentarily over his shoulder at his unfinished blueprints, at the stray lines, at all the empty space—a space that held endless, unlimited potential. He tucked his pen into a drawer and slowly stood, turning his attention back to his friend once more. "I think I'd better take a break. I need to go and collect my thoughts. Tomorrow's about to be a busy day."
Sciel nodded. "Well, I wish you luck," she said, winking. "Just don't push yourself too hard, yeah? And go easy on him. I don't know how much attention he's been giving all of us, but don't say something you might regret just in case."
Gustave adjusted his shirt and followed beside her as she began her walk back out of the workshop and into the cool, twilit air. "We'll just have to cross that bridge when we get there."
"Oh, clever pun!"
"Pun?" Gustave blinked, and Sciel just laughed.
"The Landbridge, Gustave."
He turned his gaze to the distant northwest, to the maze of wooden scaffolding that foretold their infinite future. "Right," he said. "The Landbridge."
"Tomorrow can wait," Sciel reassured him. "It's not going anywhere."