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To his own credit, Janus had been piecing things together before Roman even walked in the room.
He’d been a careful observer lately, noting with a sort of sad fondness how the other sides treated Virgil. They were careful around him, but not overly so. The four of them were clearly close, a tight knit “family” as they called it.
It wasn’t Janus’s department, but he could see the love and adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other. He’d never seen Virgil so...content. It was a bittersweet feeling.
So the idea that Roman, Patton, and Logan had been physically abusing Virgil this entire time didn’t quite add up. In fact, it seemed a rather ridiculous conclusion to come to.
If Virgil hadn’t been trembling on the floor, begging him and Remus not to hurt him (hurt him again), and shakily confessing that he had been hurt before, it never would have crossed Janus’s mind as a possibility.
And so, it wasn’t hard to come to the realization that Virgil probably hadn't been talking about to light sides.
By all logical reasoning (Logan would be pleased) he’d been talking about the Others. The less prominent, sometimes cruel parts of Thomas that would never fully manifest. The sides he, Virgil, and Remus had unfortunately spent a lot of time around for quite a few years.
Virgil’s behavior, his words, his panic, the way the light sides acted around him, it all pointed to the glaringly obvious conclusion that Virgil was recovering from the treatment the others had put him through.
Janus put the pieces together in a matter of seconds. He’d then promptly shoved it aside and jumped on board with Remus’s assumption as he stood in front of his brother, keeping Roman away from the anxious side falling deeper and deeper into panic on the kitchen floor.
Maybe it was selfish, but he could blame it on the fact that he wasn’t thinking very clearly at the moment.
He’d snarled at Roman, demanding the Prince explain what he’d done to Virgil, despite being almost entirely convinced at this point that Roman had done nothing but help him feel safe. Possibly for the first time in Anxiety’s life.
He denied the truth, despite how plainly it was laid out in front of him, because it was easier. Because accepting the truth meant accepting the fact that Virgil had undergone horrible treatment and Janus had done nothing.
All the nagging doubts he’d brushed aside, all the little white lies he’d caught onto and ignored, all the shaking hands and wide eyed, haunted looks that he’d chalked up to just another one of Virgil’s eccentricities. (he was Anxiety, after all, he was bound to be a bit jumpy by nature) All of that had been years of abuse, neglect, and mistreatment hidden in plain sight.
That little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong had been right. And that...that was terrifying.
So in the moment, he’d denied it. That was what he did best, after all.
But denial would only get a person so far. Denial would only crash and burn and spread into a devastating fire.
Because despite how hard he was trying, very little was going to be able to convince Virgil that Janus’s intent wasn’t to harm him. Not until he calmed down.
And then Virgil was gone, sinking out away from the noise in the kitchen, and Janus couldn’t honestly say he was surprised, alarmed as he was.
“Get off me, you idiot!”
Janus glanced behind him, shoulders sagging at the sight of the brothers. Roman had tried to push past Remus, the Duke grabbing the Prince’s sash and shoving him back, and Deceit knew if it was only a matter of seconds until someone threw a punch.
But in the moment, Janus couldn’t move, the loathsome truth fighting its way to the surface no matter how much he hated it, still kneeled on the kitchen rug.
The rug...the rug that definitely hadn’t always been there. The rug they’d placed beneath the cabinets seemingly out of nowhere one day. The rug that didn’t particularly go with the rest of the room.
Janus had once made a snide comment he didn’t really mean to Logan, offhandedly mentioning that they should get rid of it. He’d never seen the logical side grow so righteously defensive so quickly.
There had been a similar occurrence when he’d brought up the cups the light sides used. The plastic cups…
The truth was piecing itself together, and Janus thought he might be sick.
“What’s going on?”
Patton’s voice, frantic and confused, was flooding the kitchen before Deceit could pull himself together and reign in the chaos, the moral side skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway.
And before Janus could stop him, Remus was releasing his hold on his brother and whirling around to face Morality.
“What the fuck have you done?”
The moral side paled, eyes going wide, and Janus wondered if anyone had ever had the audacity to swear at Patton before.
“I- what? Remus, calm--”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Remus was still clutching his Morning Star, and Roman was carefully moving to put himself in between the two sides. “Tell me what the fuck you’ve done to Virgil!”
It was like a string had been cut. Patton’s face dropped, something dangerous hardening in his eyes. His gaze went to Janus on the rug still stained with spilled water, then to Roman shakily hovering in the middle of the chaos.
“Where’s Virgil?” Patton asked, and Janus had never heard Morality sound so cold. “Roman--”
“He sank out,” Janus said, finally finding his voice for the first time since Virgil had disappeared. “I was...attempting to calm him down.”
“Oh god.”
Remus reached for Patton’s arm as the moral side turned away and Janus quickly forced himself to speak again, beyond grateful for the way his words didn’t tremble.
“Let him go, Remus,” he said. “It wasn’t them.”
Remus turned to him, incredulous, but dropped his hand all the same, Morning Star still held tight in the other. Patton threw him a questioning glance, but was hurrying through the doorway without another word.
He nearly ran right into a slightly disheveled Logan’s chest.
“What on earth?” He frowned when Patton didn’t answer, barrelling past the logical side and out of the kitchen. “I heard yelling, is--”
“What do you mean it wasn’t them?” Remus was spinning around to face Janus, completely ignoring Logan’s tired confusion. “Virgil just said--”
“You're not listening! ” Roman jumped in, and Janus watched Logan quietly take in the scene. “If you would just calm down and let us explain--”
“Roman.”
Janus didn’t jump- not quite. He would never allow himself to so visibly lose his composure, never in front of so many people. But Logan’s voice, the look in his eyes, was more than enough to bring silence to the room.
When Deceit looked up at Logan, it was like reading an open book. Janus could pick up on lies, read between lines like a second language, but with the logical side there really was never any need.
Logan, for all the times he claimed not to feel, felt more clearly, more strongly than even Patton. He felt and expressed his emotions more intensely than any of them, all while adamantly denying their existence.
And right now, Janus only needed a single glance to see Logan’s anger.
“What happened?” he asked, eyes on the Prince, voice steely calm. “Where is Virgil?”
There was worry beneath the anger, but not nearly enough at the moment to grant them any mercy.
“He was having an attack,” Roman explained, defenses dropping, and it was clearly a frequent enough event that Logan instantly knew what he meant. “I was trying to help him but they wouldn’t let me!”
Janus would never admit it, and he wondered if Remus felt the same, but something about Roman’s aggression sent a pang of... something though his chest. Something that hurt.
He deserved it, he knew. He wasn’t even close to being one of them. He might never be. But he’d been making strides lately, small as they were.
Now, it was like being back on the outside looking in.
But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered is that Remus was quiet, and Janus needed to keep it that way before someone threw a punch.
“I think it is safe to assume,” Logan was saying before Janus could gather his thoughts. “That Janus and Remus have no knowledge of Virgil’s previous treatment. They were trying to protect him.”
“All I know,” Janus said, the bite to his words the last defense he had left. “Is that Virgil was convinced he was going to be beaten. Again. We were a bit caught off guard, so forgive us for taking initiative, Roman.”
“And look where your initiative got you!”
“So what you’re saying,” Logan snapped, turning back to the twins before Janus could retort. “Is that Virgil had already been triggered into a panic attack, and you two decided to have a shouting match five feet away from him?”
Roman had the decency to look guilty, the fight deflating completely from his stance, but Janus couldn’t find it in him to be relieved. Not when Remus was looking progressively more and more panicked beside him.
“I was- I was just trying to help! I thought you--”
“Living room.” Logan’s voice was cold, and even Janus couldn’t shut the Duke down that easily. “All of you. Now.”
Janus, for once, didn’t argue, and he suddenly realized he still hadn’t moved from his crouch on the kitchen rug.
Regaining what little dignity he had left, Deceit quickly picked himself back up, absently brushed off his clothes like he wasn’t just barely numb enough to avoid breaking down completely, and stalked right past the others, all while ignoring the death glares Roman and Remus were sending each other.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately- he really wasn’t in a headspace to have his worst fears confirmed), the dreaded conversation wasn’t yet ready to happen.
“Logan!”
Patton was barreling down the stairs, eyes only on the logical side, trembling and frantic, and Janus felt something uneasy clawing at his tightening throat.
Remus had moved to the couch, perched on the arm with his legs crossed, watching the others uneasily. He kept glancing at Janus, but Deceit couldn’t bring himself to look over.
“He’s not there,” Patton hissed, voice laced with panic as he gripped Logan’s sleeve. “He’s not- he’s not in his room, I can’t find him I can’t--”
“Patton, please attempt to calm yourself.”
“He’s gone again!” Patton’s voice caught, eyes welling with tears, and Janus quickly turned away. “It’s happening again, he...what if he- Logan I can’t let this happen again!”
There it was, once more. Again. It was going to happen again. Virgil didn’t want to be hurt anymore.
All of it. Over and over again for god only knew how long. And Janus, priding himself on being a silent observer, on always knowing more than he let on, had just...he’d just…
Janus was sinking out of the living room before he really had time to wrap his head around where he was going, He tried not to think about the irony of following in Virgil’s footsteps.
But if Virgil wasn’t in his room, something that was clearly alarmingly familiar to the others, then Janus was almost positive he knew where he was.
He’d practically said it himself in his panic, a shred of safety he’d desperately clung onto.
“Hey, you’re ok.”
The words were already filtering in by the time Janus appeared beside the staircase in Thomas’s living room, dread already lessening at the apparent lack of panic in the host’s voice.
“You’re ok, bud. You’re safe. It’ll be ok when you wake up.”
Virgil was on the couch (Janus hadn’t quite expected to feel the relief that strongly, legs threatening to give out beneath him), eyes closed and breathing beginning to slow.
Thomas was kneeling on the floor beside him, one hand carding through Virgil’s hair, the other carefully interlocked with the anxious side’s, speaking soft reassurances as he slowly drifted off.
Thomas was a good person. Janus knew that, despite any arguments he may have made in the past for the sake of proving a point.
Thomas was compassionate. He cared, more than anyone. And yet it still caught Janus off guard to see him act so gentle towards Anxiety.
With theories of what had happened to Virgil in the past forming in his head, Janus decided that was for the best. Virgil needed people to be gentle with him.
He wished he’d been able to offer that.
Janus was taking a step forward before he could stop himself, voice much smaller than he would have liked. “Thomas?”
Thomas froze and fell silent, shoulders tensing slightly, but he didn’t turn away from a now still and quiet Virgil.
For a moment the living room was quiet, and Janus wondered if he should just duck out, hurry and tell the others that Virgil was safe.
But he couldn’t move, completely frozen once again, and Thomas let out a quiet sigh.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, and Janus did not care for being thrown off by his own host. That was his job. But Thomas was continuing before he had the chance to come up with an answer. “Can you grab me a blanket from the closet?”
Janus opened his mouth to respond, something sarcastic and witty automatically at the tip of his tongue, but then his eyes fell back onto Virgil, the guilt flooding back, and any usual snark died in his throat.
“Of course.”
Thomas had a few blankets folded up on the closet shelf, and Janus carefully took the softest one in there- a dark gray comforter he thought he might have seen Virgil use before.
Wordlessly, he handed it over to Thomas and watched as he draped it over Virgil, careful not to wake the anxious side.
“He’ll be ok,” Thomas said, and took a shaky breath. “Did you...did you know?”
“Oh yes.” There was no use in even trying to control his own response. “I was fully aware that Virgil was being horrifically abused every time I had my back turned. I stood there and did absolutely nothing to stop it. Is that what you want to hear?”
Thomas was staring at him, probably watching Deceit with that unbearably gentle gaze, but Janus refused to look. He kept his eyes on Virgil, gloved hands clutching his own sleeve, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he’d started to shake.
As awful as it was, as selfish and cruel as it was, he wished the light sides had been the ones hurting Virgil. He wished this was something recent. He wished there was an excuse for not noticing.
“Janus?”
It took him a moment to realize that wasn’t Thomas speaking, Patton now beside him in front of the couch. Thomas was nowhere in sight, and Janus had no idea how long he’d been standing here.
“Can you head back to the mindscape, please?” Patton asked, a hand coming to rest on Janus’s arm. He didn’t pull away. “The others wanna talk to you.”
Janus scoffed, still frozen in place. “You all must be thrilled. Finally an excuse to send the dark sides back where they came from.”
He didn’t spare Patton anything more than a cautious glance, but it was enough to see his eyes filled with a disgusting amount of sympathy.
“We know you would never hurt Virgil,” Patton said. “Remus wouldn’t either. We all know that. I trust you, Janus.”
Janus shook his head, throat far too tight to form a coherent answer, taking a moment to breathe. “Are you coming?”
“Not yet,” Patton said. “I...think I need to stay with him. Just for right now.”
And Janus supposed he understood that. A part of him wanted so desperately to stay, to never let Virgil out of his sight again just to be absolutely sure he was safe.
But he didn’t have the right to make that request. Not when he’d clearly failed so spectacularly at keeping him out of harm’s way before.
He sank out without another word, trusting Patton to do what he couldn't.
The living room in the mindscape was almost exactly the scene he had expected. Logan and Roman were on the couch, the Prince scowling at Remus who was pacing the floor, whatever rant he was going on falling silent as soon as Janus reappeared.
The Duke’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw him, brimming with unabashed hope and desperation, and Janus’s heart sank when he realized what Remus wanted.
Remus was waiting for a better explanation, for Janus to assure him that what the light sides were saying wasn’t true. That Virgil hadn’t been beaten behind their backs for years.
God, Janus wished he could offer him that.
Instead, he moved over to the empty armchair, sat down with his hands folded in his lap, and steadily met Logan’s gaze.
“Tell me what they did to him.”
He didn’t look away. Not when Remus stormed out of the room and a door slammed somewhere in the mindscape a few seconds later, not when Janus’s gut twisted in anger and disgust when Logan told him details.
He did, however, begin to feel like he might throw up when they explained that Virgil had been taught that it was normal.
“Janus.”
Janus hadn’t realized he’d stood from the chair, already moving towards the stairs until Logan was suddenly following him, voice curt and pained. Deceit forced himself to turn back around.
“I can’t say that I fully trust you yet,” Logan said, and Janus almost laughed at the logical side’s bluntness. “And I have my differences with Remus. But I know you two would never hurt Virgil. I know you would have stopped it if you’d known.”
Of course he would have. If he’d ever caught one of the others in the act, ever seen the abuse in action, it never ever would have happened again. No one would dare.
And they’d known that. So they’d hidden it. And Janus had never thought to look deeper into the little, seemingly meaningless lies. The way sometimes Virgil would be limping…
God, what the fuck was wrong with him? How on earth was anybody willing to accept him when it had all been his fault?
But he didn’t say any of that. There was no excuse, no reason to drag this on any longer than was needed.
“Alright,” he said instead, continuing up the stairs. “Tell me when he wakes up.”
Janus thought briefly about checking in on Remus, but quickly decided he couldn’t bear to see his own guilt mirrored in the Duke’s horror.
Later. They would talk about this later.
Instead he locked himself in his room, doubting anyone would come looking for him but fully prepared to turn them away if they did. He didn’t want to face anyone right now. He didn’t plan on leaving until Virgil was awake.
He stayed there in silence until Patton softly knocked hours later, the sky dark and his head heavy, nervously informing him through the door that Virgil was awake and up for visitors.
And in those hours, if he’d let his walls down and privately lost his carefully upheld composure, well...no one needed to know.
All that was left to do was move forward, and make sure Virgil knew he would never be hurt again. Janus wouldn’t let him. Not again.