Work Text:
The shock of waking up hit Sigma like a car crash. It was always like this—coming to in a strange place when he only had vague memories of falling asleep. And this time, he was propped up between two boxes in a warehouse, with his arms wrapped around a third, smaller one.
“Good morning, sunshine~”
Gogol. Of course. Whenever something like this happened, he was always to blame.
“How long was I out for?” asked Sigma.
“Not long~ I may need to up the dose next time!” Nikolai said casually, as if drugging their co-workers was something everyone did in their free time.
Sigma opted to not respond to that, and instead, rubbed at the corner of his mouth (he was drooling—how embarrassing!) and looked around the room, trying to get a good idea of his surroundings. He’d been transported to a midpoint, somehow. Gogol, or someone else, must have carried him at least part of the way—or something? Maybe there was a helicopter? An underground tunnel? Someone with a vehicle met them halfway—
“Hey, Sigma? You’re thinking too much~” Nikolai said.
“Right, sorry,” Sigma said. His concern must have shown on his face.
But how can I not think about this?!
“Mhm~ Unfortunately, we won’t have much work for you for a few days. I knooow, you’re not used to that. But sit tight! We’ll be heading to Meursault in three days! I’ll give you the signal!” Nikolai winked at him.
Sigma blinked. He felt like something important had been torn away from him at the last moment, right as he was about to steal it back and never let it go again. He couldn’t place what it was besides the Sky Casino, but even just leaving that behind made him feel like a vital part of him was missing. And now, he would be stuck in Meursault, playing the role of a prison guard.
“Thanks…” he mumbled. What else was there to say?
—
“You don’t have to tidy up here, you know.” Nikolai’s voice came from out of nowhere.
Sigma paused, halfway through rearranging the books on the only bookshelf in the warehouse. It was true, he had been compulsively tidying up this entire time. Despite the fact that this wasn’t anything he was obligated to do, it felt weird to not have something to do with his hands.
He turned back to face Gogol, words hanging on his lips.
I can’t help it, he wanted to say. You and I are the only ones here, he wanted to say. This much prolonged contact with you is unnerving, he wanted to say.
Instead, he said, “It’s a habit.”
“Whatever. You’re a regular housewife, you know~”
Sigma’s stomach twisted in an uncomfortable way. He was nauseous. But then again, he’d felt so sick since taking this job that it might as well be chronic. He decided that the books looked better in alphabetical order rather than sorted by color. But between the books, he spotted something.
A tablet.
He was glad he did the sweep of this room. After all he’d done a thorough search on his co-workers when he was first pulled into Decay of the Angel, but now that he had more free time, he would be able to really look into everyone’s history.
He waited until Nikolai left, then waited a few minutes more. Luckily, the tablet wasn’t password protected.
Dostoevsky, remarkably, didn’t have much incriminating information floating around online, and Bram Stoker, having been in forced hibernation for years, mostly turned up information on the vampire plague that Kamui had dealt with years ago. Kamui, being a public figure, mostly came up with info on his good deeds. And for a while, Sigma had fun looking through those and discovering things he’d missed.
But Nikolai? When he decided to research his history, all that was forgotten. The more Sigma looked into him, the more he found. Nikolai didn’t seem to hide his public presence, and favored flashy, showy crime scenes and impersonating people in power to get information. And apparently, he’d been at it for years. Since before he met Dostoevsky—and even before he came of age. Sigma’s eyes widened, looking through article after article. He only looked up from his tablet when he felt his back and knees getting sore and realized how long he had been sitting on the floor.
I’ve been doing this for hours? Ah… and I found this in public. Who knows how secure it is… I need to clear the history on this thing.
—
As Sigma was getting ready for bed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the sole mirror in the room. He looked haggard; under-eye circles, unbrushed hair, unshaven face. The type of look he’d only ever seen himself wear after wandering in the desert for months.
“You look like shit,” he told his reflection, and laughed. And kept laughing. Somehow, even though it wasn’t funny anymore, he couldn’t stop. Maybe due to lack of sleep, or because he was fucked up over his whole living situation, but he was just overcome with a strange delirium.
Fuck, what happened to me? He stopped, took a deep breath, and stared at his reflection some more. As he did, his mind drifted back to what might have happened to the Sky Casino. It was still floating around without him, right? Taking on passengers like a literal ship without a captain? Or was it completely gone now that its purpose had been fulfilled and the money had been circulated? Vanished into thin air, or worse, crash-landed with everyone inside it?
He realized that he’d bitten every nail on his left hand down to the quick. Nail biting is a bad habit. But then again, so is gambling, and he’d been known to enable liars, addicts, and thieves. He’d done a lot of things that were unforgivable, all for the sake of keeping himself tethered to a place that he belongs. But now, he’d been caught, and the Casino was somewhere, out there, drifting like a lost weather balloon.
Or does it even still exist..? Fuck, I need to go to bed.
The beds didn’t look comfortable at all; lumpy cots with very little support, but it was better than nothing. Sigma got better sleep on the floor anyway, so if all else failed, he might just crawl under the bed and pass out. At least I’ll be safe from any sneak attacks there. I mean, maybe? Gogol would know better than to mess around with me in my sleep, right?
Gogol.
Maybe he could ask him what happened. He didn’t like it, but Gogol was the easiest person to contact.
It was late, but he should bite the bullet. After all, it’s the only way he’d be able to get to sleep tonight.
—
“Gogol.”
“Oh~? Look who came craaawling back to me on his hands and knees in the dead of night! Did my dear, sweet Sigma change his mind and decide to be friends with me forever? Or maybe—” Nikolai cut himself off, bowing low and fixing Sigma with a serious stare. “—You need my help with something?”
“Unfortunately, it’s the second thing.” Sigma said curtly. Somehow, he’d gotten used to deciphering those Nikolai-isms since he started this position. Of course, Gogol did take him by surprise, often. But Sigma was good at reading people, even wild cards like him.
And he was in a good mood today. That was good, at least.
“And what could it be~? You do know that it’s…” Nikolai checked the time, and his eyes widened—a genuine expression of surprise. “…Late.”
“I want to know what happened to the Sky Casino.”
“I don’t know,” Nikolai said, and Sigma’s face must have fallen, because Nikolai raised both his hands, palms out. “But! I can find out~”
“You can?”
“Mhm~ I’m not teeeechnically allowed to break into that place, but I can make an exception for cases like this. After all, you seem tense~” Nikolai said.
“I’m not,” Sigma said, but he stepped towards Nikolai anyway. He could tell he was bluffing—Nikolai didn't really care about legality, he never had. “…Can you show me?”
For a split second, Sigma imagined being scooped up against Nikolai’s chest and swept away in his cape, but before he could wonder why a scene like that would play out in his head, he was pushed, and fell through something and into a completely different building.
“You should have seen your face!”
Sigma was annoyed, but not surprised. But regardless, they were there, in a monitor room. The screens covered an entire wall, lighting it up with CC footage of houses, office buildings, bathrooms. Bathrooms! Sigma suddenly felt self-conscious, but tried not to give it away.
“The Eyes of God?” Sigma’s eyes opened wide.
“If I told you, it would ruin the surprise! Open sesame~” Nikolai said, then switched on a monitor.
He fiddled with some buttons. His hands flew around the room, twisting dials and turning consoles off and on, seemingly doing nonsensical actions that wouldn’t harm or help Sigma’s cause. Just as Sigma was about to turn around and try to find his way back to his room, Nikolai gasped dramatically, drawing Sigma’s attention to the monitor.
The footage showed the inside of the Sky Casino. The slot machines, usually crowded, were devoid of guests.
Anxiously, Sigma flipped through the CC footage. Rooms, employee housing, poker tables, bar. Empty, empty, empty, empty. The camera that was closest to the damaged area showed that no attempts were made to repair it. Panning out to the outside of the building, Sigma noticed that it was still airborne, somewhere over the open ocean somewhere.
“They all left…” His hand flew over his mouth.
“Well, yeah~” Nikolai said. “After it got hit by a plane, everyone must’ve taken their business elsewhere.”
Sigma chewed on this thought for a while. “But… the building’s okay?”
Nikolai nodded. “You could return, if you like~”
“…Yeah. Thanks.” Sigma finally answered.
“Getting cold feet?” Nikolai asked. “It was only one step in our plan, after all. Getting you involved in that again would be soooo complicated!”
I know it would be complicated. But I want to go back.
But I don’t.
I don’t know what I want, actually.
Sigma realized he was chewing on his thumbnail again, and quickly put his hand down.
“It could be nice,” Sigma said. “It depends on whether people want something like that in the new world.”
A nice, nonthreatening answer, and one that seemed to please Nikolai.
“That’s the spirit~!” Nikolai said brightly, and Sigma relaxed a little.
That felt good. It felt good to know that the Casino was okay… but also, Nikolai did something… surprisingly kind? When Sigma made it back to his bed, he passed out cold, and slept dreamlessly.
—
2 days
—
When Sigma awoke, he was in a hotel room. Gogol must have moved him to another waypoint. Just leave it up to him to do something like that, huh? After laying in bed for who knows how long, Sigma got up. His mouth tasted like sand. As he stood up, a note fell out from under his pillow.
He picked it up. It was folded so intricately—clearly only one person could have made something like this for him. He was tempted to chuck it in the garbage, but he knew that being one step ahead of Nikolai was a good thing. He struggled to open it at first—all the little interlocking bits were tricky, and it was so nicely made that he didn’t want to rip it. But once he got it open, he was greeted with this message.
Good morning!
I hope you slept well, Sigma~
I’m preparing a secret surprise for Dos-kun. Do you want to help me?
_Yes _No
The note appeared to be written in red colored pencil, and underneath the boxes, Nikolai had drawn a little doodle of himself. Whatever. It wasn’t like he had any important things to do today anyway. Sigma checked off Yes, left the note on his desk, and went to go take a shower. It was only when Sigma was toweling off his hair that he realized how ridiculous it was that he decided to check the box. Why am I responding to him in such a roundabout way? Couldn’t I just tell him in person? He decided then and there that Nikolai was not going to rub off on him anymore.
—
In the lobby, the first thing Sigma noticed was the dead body, dressed in a work uniform, slumped over the front desk. The second thing he noticed was Nikolai Gogol, standing behind her, waving at him with one bloodstained glove.
“Oh, Sigma, I’m so very glad you came~” Nikolai announced, clasping his hands together when he caught sight of the other man.
Excitable as always. But Sigma, running on 4 hours of sleep without his first cup of coffee in him, couldn’t care less.
“Hey, what’s this plan that you’ve come up with, anyway?”
“I’m so glad you asked!” Nikolai said.
He rolled a room service table out from behind the desk, and threw back the silk curtain that he’d placed over it. And underneath it lay vials of poison, keycards and other tools, a closed briefcase, and other things that Sigma couldn’t place. Sigma couldn’t hide the expression of abject horror on his face, not that he wanted to.
“What is this?”
“How rude! I devised it myself, you know! I even made it so difficult that even Dos-kun will have a hard time worming his way out of it~”
“I know, but…” Sigma pressed his lips tightly together. It’s not like I didn’t agree to helping with this, knowing the type of person Gogol is. But this kind of thing… He side-eyed the different tools. Gogol really had no qualms with killing his friends, huh? He was completely serious about this. It made Sigma feel a little weak in the knees.
But why? It’s not like I’m the target of this kind of thing. He even rescued me… it was to use my Ability, but still. Sigma grit his teeth, looking at Gogol out of the corner of his eye.
“Thinking too much again! You’ll get wrinkles if you keep this up~ And you're only three years old!” Nikolai warned, but a look in his eye told Sigma that he knew exactly what he was worried about. “You know that I’ve been planning to kill Dos-kun from the start. But it isn’t any fun if he doesn’t have a chance to fight back.”
Sigma didn’t want to spend too much time psychoanalyzing Nikolai, lest he catch more of his particularities. He decided to cut things short.
“I know,” Sigma said. Then, “What is my job here?”
“Nothing yet~” Nikolai said, in a sing-song voice. “But the trial starts in two days, so be prepared!”
“Prepared how?”
“Be prepared!” Gogol repeated, leaning in close and clasping Sigma’s shoulders. Then, he turned on his heel and vanished.
—
During Sigma’s first sweep of the hotel room to tidy things up, he noticed Gogol watching him. He blinked, trying to hide his embarrassment, and attempted to look busy. But it was true, he must’ve looked weird. He had been standing with his hands on his hips, staring at the top shelf of a storage closet for the past ten minutes.
“What are you doing in there, Sigma~?”
“Oh, I’m…” His voice trailed off, even though it was a simple question. “…cleaning.”
“I can get something up there for you, if you want.”
“…It’s not that.” Sigma wrung his hands for a couple seconds, before finally deciding to be honest. “We happened to get a room with a storage closet… The top shelf is all cluttered, and I can’t reach the back, even standing on a box.”
He expected Nikolai to laugh at him, or admonish him for being so particular about cleaning, especially a place that wasn’t his business to clean. But he didn’t say anything like that at all. In fact, his response shocked Sigma.
“Do you want to use my Ability?”
Sigma could only stare. “You would help me with something like this?”
“No, you would be using it. It’s just one time, and I would keep my cape on, so I would have the upper hand if you tried anything funny! So, you don’t have to worry, Sigma! I trust you~”
That’s not reassuring. But still, Nikolai was offering an olive branch, as strange and twisted as it was. Despite his better judgment, Sigma took his hand.
“Sure. Show me.”
“Think of a place in your mind.” As Nikolai spoke, he lifted his cape with one arm, like a magician about to reveal the results of a particularly complex trick. “Then close your eyes and feel yourself there.”
Sigma kept his eyes trained on Nikolai’s face. He wouldn’t admit it to him, but when he was explaining how his Ability worked, he looked… kind of cool. At least, cooler than when he was messing around with everyone. And definitely cooler than when he was putting everyone in danger. That was for sure.
“Then count to three~ Then touch your toes! Then say a prayer to God, and then…”
“Are you messing with me?”
“Nooooo… I would never!” Nikolai waved his hand in the air dismissively, as if he was embarrassed. “Actually, yes, I am! In fact, I don’t know how my Ability works.”
Sigma blinked. “How?”
“Don’t be so surprised, Sigma. That puts us on even ground, doesn’t it? Here. Reach through.” Nikolai smiled and lifted his cape again.
Sigma couldn’t back out now.
He plunged his hand into the fabric, half-expecting his fingers to make contact with a buzzsaw or woodchipper, but instead, they nudged the bottle of all-purpose cleaner that he’d left across the room.
“Aaaaaugh!” He made a loud, involuntary sound and jerked away from Nikolai, pulling his hand out of the fabric. The bottle of cleaner came with it. He made another, more startled sound, then slowly, miserably picked up the bottle of cleaner.
“I really did that…”
“What’s got you so surprised?” Gogol asked.
Sigma briefly weighed the words on his tongue before speaking. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Did you expect me to?”
“Maybe.”
As expected, Nikolai put on the most dramatic show possible about it. “Oh, poor Sigma doesn’t trust me? Whatever will I do?”
“Can it. You tried to involve me in your elaborate murder schemes yesterday.”
“And you went along with it.”
Sigma was silent.
“Want to try it again?” Nikolai continued.
Still not saying a word, Sigma picked up the cleaning fluid and reached into Nikolai’s cape. This time, his hand appeared right where he wanted it to—the top shelf. He let it hover there for a second, unsure of what to do, but after a few moments, picked up a photo frame. Then… put it down. Picked it up again, and…
It moved. He had moved his hand to the left and put it in a box. That was easier than he thought it would be.
With their combined power, they managed to get two-thirds of the shelf cleaned up. Sigma just… tried not to think too hard about how he was invading Gogol’s personal space. They were kind of crowded together, sharing the same air so that Sigma could move properly. And while he was trying to remain clinical about this, it was hard to ignore.
He kind of hated how overpowering it felt. Sigma, poor touch-starved Sigma, hadn’t really had a chance to hug anyone in… well, quite literally forever. Any kind of skin-to-skin contact was intensified two thousand times, even if it was someone like…
Gogol.
Actually, Sigma realized that he didn’t really know how Gogol’s ability worked. Well, using it, at least. He was being pretty cagey about it, so Sigma was going off assumptions. He focused all his energy on teleporting his hand into the bathroom and turning on the shower. Nope. Dipping his fingers in the toilet. Nope. Grabbing a fire extinguisher and spraying it. Didn’t happen.
He realized then, with abject horror, that he wasn’t the one in control of his body. Gogol must have had full control of the teleportation Ability while the cape was still on… or something like that? Sigma could still move his hand, but while he was there, Gogol could make Sigma do whatever he wanted.
He tried to jerk away, but Nikolai grabbed the small of his back and kept him there. All of a sudden, a searing heat started in the palm of his hand, excruciating.
“Feel that~?” Nikolai asked, and leaned in close to his ear. Fearing the worst, Sigma struggled to get away, to run, only to freeze when he heard his words.
“Fyodor wants you to disappear after he wins the trial. But I disagree. I’ll help you get out.”
As Sigma’s body relaxed, more out of confusion than helplessness, Nikolai released him. In the palm of Sigma’s hand was a single cigarette burn. Just that? It had hurt so much. Sigma’s head spun. He didn’t know what to do, so he ran away. He fled to the bathroom and barricaded the door—not that it would do anything, but it made him feel secure.
But no one came after him. Not Nikolai or anyone else. Sigma waited up for hours, worn thin from stress, until he opened his eyes and it was tomorrow. He had been laid on the floor between the beds, with a single blanket over him. In the bathroom, he could hear the shower running, interspersed with loud singing.
When he came back to the storage closet the next morning, he found that the rest of the shelf, the part he’d left behind to rot, was spotless.
—
1 day
—
The next day would be the trial. Sigma looked in the mirror and saw a face that he almost didn’t recognize. Stress, exhaustion, and nausea had transformed him into a shell of a person. A walking ghost. He couldn’t do anything except splash cold water on his face, shave, and drag himself into the shower.
When he closed his eyes, he saw his hand plunging into Nikolai’s cape, smelled cleaning supplies and burning flesh. Every time it replayed in his mind, he felt ill. He covered his mouth. Since they began their trek to Meursault, he’d been thinking about Gogol. No, ruminating. Obsessing. Trying to find his vulnerabilities. Thinking about what the secrets behind his magic tricks might be—not weaknesses to exploit, but traps to evade. Nikolai was a loose cannon, and if he couldn’t rein him in, he needed to be far away from the friendly fire.
His heartbeat.
Sigma remembered now. He could hear it when Nikolai was controlling him with his Ability.
It was beating fast, faster than any human heart could safely beat. And up close, his skin was damp with sweat.
Sigma pressed his thumb into his palm, where the burn mark was. He hadn’t treated it, with anything. He had just let it sit. It was bright red and felt raw to the touch.
His hand throbbed when he pushed in on it. So, he did it more.
Fuck.
He must be coming down with something. The shower wasn’t any hotter than normal, but he felt feverish. And sick. Nauseous. He rushed over to the sink, certain he was going to vomit.
I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke.
Is it possible for another person’s presence to make me sick like this?
Do I hate him this much that it’s physically affecting me?
He didn’t think he hated Gogol any more than he hated Kamui or Dostoevsky. Just another person holding the key to his chains. But this revulsion was more than he could stomach. It had been hard to get any food down, only having him for company.
(You love him.)
That thought came to him, as plain as day, and for a few seconds, he just accepted it as fact. After all, he’d never felt love for anyone, just love for places, or food, or animals, or the idea of what love would be like. He would watch couples at the bar, plastered and climbing all over each other, and that night, he would try to picture what it would be like. Sometimes he was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, holding an attractive woman in his arms. Sometimes he was a woman, tan-skinned and demure, with long fake lashes and longer faker nails.
He knew the couples that visited the Casino, or at least, he knew everything he could glean about them online. Some of them were divorced exes having a once-in-a-lifetime fling after their relationship crashed and burned. Some met yesterday. There were the odd couples: a mother and her 21-year-old son’s best friend, a recent college graduate and a prostitute he hired for the evening, a polyamorous group of four university students who each boarded from separate countries. If sex could be love, and secrets could be love, who’s to say hate can’t be love, too?
…No, that’s ridiculous. He didn’t love Nikolai Gogol. What he was feeling was… not love at all.
But it wasn’t hate, either.
It wasn’t love, and it wasn’t hate. It wasn’t an obsession. It wasn’t a fear response. It wasn’t lust or murderous intent. But it was something in between, or all of them combined… or something. The more Sigma thought about it, the worse he felt.
So he bent over the toilet and made himself throw up to see if it helped.
It didn’t.
He tried to avoid Nikolai Gogol all day. Emphasis on tried. Gogol was the kind of person who was hard to evade if he wanted to talk to you—but luckily, their paths didn’t cross for a couple hours. Sigma busied himself with making preparations. He still wasn’t permitted to know the inner machinations of the trial. So, he made the beds and did their laundry in the hotel’s washing machine. It was the only thing he could think to do—he needed to feel like he had put some work forward, after all. Even if it was just household chores.
At first, he thought that Gogol would leave him alone after the burn incident yesterday. Hoped, rather. But that was just wishful thinking, knowing the kind of person Gogol was.
“Sigma~”
Sigma ducked around the corner only for Gogol to somersault out of the ceiling in front of him and land on his feet perfectly.
“I missed you, Sigma~!” Nikolai announced. Then, he smiled mischievously, as if he was hiding a secret behind his lips. “Guess what time it is~”
“I don’t know, Nikolai,” Sigma said, trying to keep his expression neutral.
“It’s time for a pop quiz, that’s what! Guess what I have?”
Sigma was quiet.
f you guessed a tablet, you’re right! But you’ll never guess what’s inside… although I suppose you already know, huh?” Nikolai continued.
He reached behind his back. Just like that, the tablet was in his hands, and he showed the contents to Sigma. Right there, in plain view, was an article about him. He continued, “Guess who left a couple windows open by accident? You know, I never would have guessed I had a stalker~”
Sigma spoke through clenched teeth. “I do research on everyone.”
“But we’ve been working together for three years now. Don’t you think it’s a little late to do your homework?"
“…The research is ongoing.”
Sigma’s head was spinning. He wanted to bash Gogol’s face in, wanted to be as far away from him as possible, wanted to mount him and wrap his hands around his throat. But all he could do was snatch the tablet out of his hands and quickly delete the history.
“Geez, you’re touchy~” Nikolai said, pouting.
“I’m fine. I just don’t want anyone to see,” said Sigma. And it was true. He didn’t.
That night, Nikolai brought a cake. It was all wrapped up in a cute pink box and had chocolate icing and pink, glossy cherries. Sigma didn’t realize how hungry he was until he saw it. He watched as Nikolai cut two slices and set them down, one in front of each of them.
“Let’s celebrate! We’re breaking Dos-kun out of prison tomorrow. You’ve never had anything like this, have you?”
It’s drugged. Or poisoned. He’s already put so much stuff in my food, this is such an obvious setup. I’d be stupid to eat this. But Sigma couldn’t fight his curiosity. He hadn’t eaten anything like this before. And it looked good. He watched Nikolai cheerfully eating his slice and decided that he wouldn’t do anything to harm him so late in the game. It was foolish, but he would put his trust in Nikolai.
Just this once.
He took a bite and declared it the best thing he’d ever tasted. He quickly finished his slice, but as he stood up, his knees buckled under him.
As he slumped over the table, he noticed a pretty, red fruit hidden under Gogol’s napkin.
Something was in the cherries.
The last thing he remembered before he slipped under was Nikolai scooping him up, effortlessly, and throwing him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
—
10 minutes
—
Sigma came to in Nikolai’s arms. Or rather, over his shoulder. At first, he just lay there, unsure if moving would be a good idea. But then, he realized where they were. Gogol had already broken them into Meursault, somehow, and was just wandering around, Sigma on his back. As if he read his mind, Gogol dropped Sigma on the ground.
He just... sat there, blinking up at Gogol. So the fruit was drugged, not poisoned. That's not too bad. His own train of thought startled him—being drugged wasn't too bad? He really had gotten accustomed to Nikolai Gogol. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing.
“We’re heeeeee—re~”
The guards noticed them first. All at once, Nikolai was surrounded.
“Just sit tight, my darling assistant~ I know what to do.”
A couple of terrifying moments later, Sigma rode the elevator down with Nikolai to meet their guests. Sigma didn’t understand why Nikolai was giddy like a schoolgirl, since he was currently three seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.
“Hey, cheer up! This is going to be great!” Nikolai said. “And you helped!”
No I didn’t.
“Yeah… thank you,” Sigma said.
That thing Nikolai said to him was still weighing on his mind.
“Fyodor wants you to disappear after he wins the trial. But I disagree. I’ll help you get out.”
Why had he said it while he was essentially using Sigma and playing a trick on him? Sigma had thought it was a setup and dismissed it as Nikolai trying to lead him to his death. He’d drugged him, played mind games with him, used him for his Ability, led him in circles, and been just as frustrating as the rest of Decay. Why would Sigma think that it was anything but that?
Then it clicked. There were cameras everywhere. Who knew if Dostoevsky and Dazai, who were able to communicate with the outside in some capacity, had some way of reviewing the Eyes of God, too? Not to mention the guards. But the CC footage would only pick up that Nikolai was messing around with Sigma.
Why would he care if I was alive or dead, though? It’s all the same to him…
“Well? Aren’t you coming?” Nikolai said. Ah, the elevator had stopped.
Sigma tentatively stepped out and looked up at Nikolai. For a second, he wondered what would happen if he wasn’t able to escape safely. He was terrified of death; and clung to his existence because it was the only stable thing that he had. If someone was looking out for him, that would be a relief. Especially someone as powerful as Nikolai.
For a moment, his expression softened while looking at Nikolai. But then, he was back to being doubtful. Was Nikolai really on his side?
He couldn’t really think about that. He had to go.
—
After the Trial
1 hour post-completion.
Sigma was awake. No, more than that, he was alive. And Nikolai was sitting adjacent to him, outside on the grass, watching the building burn.
Sigma said exactly what he was thinking. He was too tired to sugarcoat it. “Why did you save me?”
“Dos-kun is dead,” he said, plainly. He looked haunted, like he’d seen something he didn’t want to see.
“Congratulations,” Sigma said, because what else could he say? Nikolai had been planning this for years.
“…Mhm. I mean, that was what I wanted, wasn’t it?~ But… I don’t know. There’s still so much I didn’t know about him. So that’s why…” Nikolai trailed off.
Ah, I see. He’s after my ability, after all. “I can share what I learned with you. But it’s not pretty.”
“I don’t want pretty.” Nikolai closed his eyes and cast his eyepatch aside. “But that’s not the only reason. I promised you that you could leave this place… and so did someone else. You want to leave with him, don’t you? Osamu Dazai. You want to join the Detective Agency.”
Somehow, those words on his lips were spoken without a trace of malice. Sigma answered honestly. “If they’ll have me.”
“I’m sure they will~” Nikolai took his glove off and offered his hand to Sigma to shake. “So, what’ll it be?”
Sigma took it. As he looked at Nikolai, he realized that Nikolai had been struggling with feelings that he couldn’t handle, too. As he thought on this, he let Dostoevsky’s memories go, and allowed a copy of them to settle in Gogol’s consciousness. As he did, he closed his eyes, and felt for what he wanted.
And there it was.
Nikolai’s offer to let him leave was genuine.
He had no secret desire to kill Sigma at all.
I’m so relieved… Sigma drew a shaky breath. Between the two of them and what they learned, they both looked like they were about to cry. Sigma breathed in and out, and then, wound his arms around Gogol’s waist. Less to hold him—although that idea didn’t set his teeth on edge anymore. But back-to-back information overload was making his knees buckle. And it looked like Nikolai was dealing with the same thing.
When Dazai came back for him, Chuuya in tow, he found Sigma with his head tucked against Nikolai’s chest, passed out on the grass.
“I promise this wasn’t how I found him!” Dazai said.
Chuuya just sighed and tried to shake Sigma awake. But Sigma didn’t wake up until he was in the Detective Agency infirmary, surrounded by his new family.