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Skeletal, Chapter Twenty: Exodus. The End.

AO3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen

Ecclesiastes 7:8 Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.

At the first snowfall Copia stared out the window of his office and imagined he would be meeting his twin for the first time in a world that looked so similar, but felt so far away. The years flew by when he was Papa, even when he was the Cardinal, but the days since he had been promoted dragged on for eternities. His desire to meet his successor was at first curiosity fueled by jealousy, then by hatred, and then, after losing the rest of their family, a desperation for familial contact. And then, again, hatred. V’s secret visit urged Paolo to come to the mausoleum, which is what made Sister wish to be put down with Secondo and Terzo, so really, it was V’s fault that he had no one. He could ignore the brothers who tormented him, but not the woman who gave him life, who gave him everything. They deserved rest, he knew that, he should have buried them the day of their deaths, he knew that too, but he wasn’t ready yet and carried that anger with him like V carried his suitcases. His title, his family, his dignity. If V came to kill him once before, Copia would have no trouble doing it first.

Copia buried Sister Imperator, Nihil, Secondo, and Terzo in the plots long carved for them, and said no words for them but planted flowers over their graves. To make something beautiful out of them, to have something to take care of, to have something pretty to look at when he visits every day. He waited until a spring that brought him no reprieve, summer that brought him no warmth, a taunting autumn, and at last, a dreadful snowfall. That's what Psaltarian's last communication read: When the first flake falls.

That morning when Copia arrived at the ministry, each step weak with what felt like some strange sort of defeat yet strong with the expectation of the relief he would soon feel after his exacting revenge, he was brought into the sitting room which was once his office, and told to wait. His own deep familiarity in the room was disgusting to him. He had his own office now, but had to fight for it after so many months of being pushed aside. Copia expected that by then he would be back on the stage - they would all realize what a grand mistake they had made in removing him, in hiding him, the fans would rebel and cheer his name instead of his replacements, and the world would welcome him back. That did not happen. Today proved it never would. He sat in front of the ancient computer which no one had moved, reminiscing on when things all felt so simple. He had no idea how much worse things could get. His work in the ministry was pointless busywork. The ghouls visited less over the months, and called less. He felt that he was slowly fading out of existence completely.

Copia had planned everything he would say to this Perpetua fellow. The things he would scream, the things he would yell, the things he would throw, the fists he would swing if need be. It wasn't fair what happened to him, and he needed him to know that. He planned arguments in the shower. Wrote letters he might read aloud to his twin on sleepless nights. He had an answer for every rebuttal, a comeback for every insult. He felt more prepared to meet and destroy his brother than he did taking the stage his first time.

“Remember what I told you.” Paolo said as he walked a step behind V from the car to the ministry door.

“Yes, look meek and he won’t be able to go through it.” This scheme was not unfamiliar to V, and the same one Paolo had been using to keep V as close as arm’s length since his first break between tours. There was never forgiveness, both of them knew that with the time they had from the moment of disjointed catharsis until the sun swallowed the earth that V would never be able to lay the past to rest, but there could be peace. His time in the Americas put things into perspective: in the grand amalgamation of everything in the universe, all of its problems and sickness and wars, even in comparison to the size of the Ghost project, a shitty brother was relatively meaningless. Really, the entire family was meaningless. Having a place for V to put all of his faith and devotion again brought him the same comfort and clarity he once used to see in light, scars, a stack of books, his own suitcase, a garden, even himself in the mirror, so his life was not missing any piece that could be filled by family. A new hand cradled him, but rather than provide the rigid routine and path that he was not only resigned to but needed to feel stable in his life, it freed him.

“But you forget,” V pulled the heavy ministry door open with his whole body weight. “I have more stopping power than a revolver. There are no ghouls here to intervene. I have no desire to kill him. I just want to get this over with.” Everyone was in the chapel awaiting mass, so the typically bustling bright atrium was empty and hollow.

“This is going to be like Father Aleksy all over again.” Paolo scoffed. “Just listen to me. We did not get Judith in here for nothing. You have to be careful. She said-”

“Ah, Papa.” Marika held her hands out as she walked around the corner from the dining hall, her short heels echoing against the stone floor. “Welcome back.” Instead of hugging him, she gripped both of his biceps tightly and examined him carefully. “Congratulations. You look well.”

“I feel well. Hello.” He bent down to kiss her cheeks, an unwanted but expected gesture.

“Come, he’s in here.” She had him wait in the hall and went in first. "Frater." Copia released the rounded edge of the sofa he had been digging his fingers into. "Are you ready to meet him?" He swallowed harshly, steadied himself, and nodded.

"Send him in." He sneered. He thought V may show up in his papal robes just to spite him. May bring in the ghouls just to wave in his face how they followed him, listened to him, saw him as their new father. The switchblade in his pocket was burning a hole through his leg. He had lost everything already: his life, his parents, his work, what was one more thing? What's a brother to a kingdom? What's a thief to a Papa- a real, true papa? Nothing. Copia would not do his brother the honor of standing when he entered the room, and to his own benefit, because he may have fallen. V entered the room slowly, steady on his feet but with his head bowed sheepishly in a way that Copia had walked into a thousand rooms before. He was not in his glorious robes, but an outfit so similar to his, and so similar to their brother's before him. People said he looked like Terzo, of course he would do that.

V approached only to the center of the room, standing behind the opposing couch as if he was waiting for his brother to strike. He was so skilled in his role that becoming small and fragile looking again was like slipping on a pair of tailored gloves.

"Hello, frater." He cleared his throat. "I am-"

"You have some nerve coming here." Copia's harsh tone was more of a grunt.

"I was told you wanted to meet me." V answered. Copia rolled his eyes. "I want to meet you. I have wanted to all this time, but I was told I had to wait."

"And I was told you were far too busy for such matters." V furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

"On the contrary. I have been hoping for this.”

"Me too." Copia stood and began to pace the length of the room in front of his brother like a vicious animal surveying their prey, staring at only his hands on the back of the sofa, clenched in fear. "Me too. " He could not make himself look his brother in the face, in that stupid silver mask, and risk losing his momentum. Copia had not planned that he would sound so afraid.

"Well, it is nice to meet you, frater. I know- I have been told that you are unhappy with me, and I feel we cannot continue forward, either of us, without clearing the air. I have some questions, I am sure you do too."

"You do not get to ask anything of me." Copia plunged his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers tightly around his blade. "You have... you have the audacity, to steal my life, to take my place, and come here and ask me for things? You want answers? You want me to do you a favor, after you have done nothing for me." V stepped back.

"Done nothing for you, frater?" He said. "Done nothing for you…" He almost laughed to himself, flushing Copia into a blind rage. Copia leapt across the room towards his brother and shoved his back against the wall, holding him there with his forearm in his throat and his hand still on his hidden weapon, his salvation. "You-" V coughed and struggled against his brother. "Every step you took on those stages was through a lake of your brothers’ blood, Copia. You are stained red. I let you live." V took his moment to shove Copia back and away from him, swallowing harshly to clear his throat. "That is favor enough."

"No." Copia scrambled upwards to his feet. "They would not kill me. I am loved." His head was spinning.

"Said Terzo. Said Secondo. Primo. Padre." V stood taller. "I did not come here to fight, as you clearly have. I have no issue with you. If you choose to believe anything, believe that."

"You walk that bloodied stage the same as I did. Our brothers, V. They were our brothers." Copia finally revealed the blade he held and attacked his twin once again, shoving him back into the wall. He would not give up. He would not lose. He would not change his mind. V had to die. The line had to be restored. He will avenge his fallen brothers and retake what is theirs.

“And where are they now?” The shining silver blade flashed in V’s eyes as he gripped Copia’s fist, forcing the blade away from plunging into his chest. All that magic, all of that power, yet Copia chose a knife, and V chose to nearly let it in.

“I buried them. They’re gone because of you-”

“What?” V finally shoved him off and shed his facade of weakness. “You… they’re gone?”

“Yes! And all because of you! If you just stayed away they would still be here with me. I had to bury them to protect them from Primo. Our family-”

"Yes, say it. Our family. You and I are family. You had them all this time. I had no one. You are responsible for their deaths and still had them with you for your reign. You had a mother while I struggled to survive. You had brothers while I was alone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them. No one even told me. It is not me who took away your family, but you who took them from me. I was supposed to help Terzo, I figured out how to make him better- to separate him. This entire time I have been planning on how to make things right here, and you chose this moment to be brave? To help someone?” V felt the same grief he did staring at his brothers’ painted portraits in the tombs. They were still strangers, really, even after everything Secondo said to him that night by the graves, but they were still his family.

“Shut up.”

“But it’s fine. Now we- now we have each other."

"Shut up!"

"No! I am here now for you, Copia. To do the thing I came here to do from the beginning, to meet my brother. To tell him that I love him." In a second of surprise, V managed to swipe the blade from his brother and throw it across the room. It stuck into the couch cushion. "What is a kingdom to a brother? Hey? What is a stage to a family? I love you, brother. I decide to love you even after all you have said about me, even after you come at me with a knife. I choose to love you. You're all I have. What fucking good is Primo? It is you and me, now. We are the only one’s left." Copia grabbed the lapels of V’s jacket and slammed him into the wall again, ripping off his mask. V scrunched up his face, fighting the ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his skull. Only when he opened his eyes again did Copia pause. He knew those eyes. He knew that paint, and the features underneath it. He knew every mark on his skin, every hair on his head, all of his fears, worries, and glories, because they were his. They were the same. Copia shook him again, hoping to steady himself and push V into a place he did not recognize, which would be easier to hurt. "Be a monster. Fine." V groaned. "I accept my fate. But first, please." Copia's grip loosened subconsciously when tears brimmed in his brother's eyes. V was losing the line between playing a game and breaking down for real. The weak little V that had been clawing at him since he first became powerful won at last: all he ever wanted was to be seen, and held, and loved. All he ever wanted was a family to please, even if they were hurting him, even if all he could do to please them was to die. "Were they happy when you put them down?" He begged weakly.

Copia had a choice to make then, one that he had prepared himself for and was sure he could make when the time came. His enemy was weak. Weeping, accepting his fate, ready for him to take the strike. He could have gone back to the couch to retrieve his blade and V would not have fled, he knew it. The power coursing through his veins was not what made him think he could be a killer, but what made him think that he could be better. He too had no family. He too was given the world on a bloody platter. He too was cast away, even if it were upwards. There, Copia could end the cycle. It was their father that he felt in his fists, not himself. It was their mother that he felt in his spiteful heart, not himself. Copia had the power to shield his little twin from all of their evils, and protect him from everything the world would try to take from him. To stop himself from bashing his skull into the wall again, Copia wrapped his arms around his brother and held him tightly. Never before had he been so close to his own blood, before, even in Sister’s weak embraces. V, unsure whether this was an act of comfort or war, did not reciprocate until Copia sighed weakly into his shoulder. Tears slipped down his cheeks in relief and desperate sadness. Copia, with his forehead leaning against the wall above his shoulder, breathing in deeply the scent of incense radiating off V’s jacket, squeezed even tighter.

"They said they were proud of you. They told me to tell you goodbye."

#skeletal fic #ghost

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