Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Carlo’s first job came in quickly after and made quite the ruckus. Sophia had requested that he became her personal guard whenever she was outside of the Charity House or her family’s mansion. She felt unsafe with the protests, the plague, the construction sites and her father's position as not only the leader of the Alchemists, but also, unspokenly, the leader of Krat itself. Therefore, every time she needed to leave the safe havens, she wanted Carlo by her side.
Many Stalkers decried that. They had seen Sophia with Carlo and Romeo on the trial day. Most of them suspected that Sophia and Carlo were having an affair and using the cover of a mission to spend time together. Who would dare to attack the Alchemist’s daughter? Who would be stupid enough? And was Carlo even strong enough to handle it, if it were to happen? Was he the right choice? Romeo was barely hiding his irritation upon hearing these words. He hated how people looked down on Carlo, who had proven himself during the trial by facing the Legendary Stalker. He hated being reminded that someone else should be Carlo’s lover.
They swallowed back their words a month later, when Carlo came back covered in blood and bruises, a butler puppet escorting him in. Romeo and Gemini hurried to his side, while Vittoria demanded explanations.

Sophia and Carlo had been attacked by miners. It was a planned attack, intending to kidnap the young woman. Four men against one. Luckily, none were really skilled in combat, more used to throwing fists or swinging shovels rather than face a sharp blade. Carlo had managed to protect them, fighting back fiercely. And only when one of them fell to his blade, never to stand again, that the others hastily retreated. Carlo had done his job and brought Sophia back to the Monad’s mansion. At her request, her butler had helped Carlo back to the Stalker’s headquarters.

Police came later to take a statement, trying to keep the journalists at bay. The place seemed to fill with electricity and anger. No Stalker was happy to see one of their own so unfairly attacked. Their sly remark about a pretended affair already forgotten. Yet the altercation brought up a more complicated subject : should the Stalkers still work for the miners? Vittoria decided that yes, they should. It was unfair to blame and antagonise the miners as a whole for the actions of a few.

That night, Carlo clung to Romeo with all his strength, stifling sobs and screams in his shirt, and all Romeo could do was hold him just as tight, and reassure him. Carlo had done the right thing. Sophia would have been hurt. It was not fair. Of course he hadn’t meant to kill, but he protected Sophia. It was the right thing to do. In the spur of the moment, there were only so many options. He chose to protect Sophia. He did the right thing. It wasn’t fair, neither for him nor for the miner. Of course not. But the miner had made his own choice and faced the consequences. Carlo fell asleep in the dead of the night. Romeo didn’t.

*

Nothing seemed to improve after that. More protests, more demonstrations. More police puppets in the streets. They had been modified enough to “inflict bruises” as the Workshop had said. They kept order in the main streets and all around the richest parts of the city while anger and plague were brewing in the poorer neighbourhood.

Sophia spent most of her time at the Rosa Estate, rarely leaving the Charity House after a while. Carlo was transferred to the Alchemists security team. Even if they had set their headquarters away from Krat, many were still coming to the city. He told Romeo that he didn’t like it, because they seemed to be doing strange things and it was boring after a while. He still visited Sophia often, and her insecurity about Simon Manus never left. Carlo confided once that the man was the true reason she had asked him for protection. And when Romeo finally admitted that he had been a bit jealous, Carlo glared at him, and thoroughly showed him who was the object of his affection. Romeo was a shaking, shivering mess by the end of their antics.

A grand exhibition was officially announced and Krat needed to clean up. The puppet number grew again and they were the ones facing the protesters on a daily basis. The Stalkers were assigned to tracking more important plans and stopping them. As months blurred into one another, Romeo and Carlo often worked together, sharing information, as each of them saw a side of the city the other rarely could.
The contrast was unsettling and the future, once promising, seemed more uncertain each day.

*

They sat on Romeo’s bed one evening, Carlo sitting astride his lap, playing with his hair, while Romeo had his arm wrapped around his lover’s waist, listening to Carlo’s heartbeats.

“Romeo.” Carlo gently called his name.
“Hm?”
“We saved quite some money. Enough to leave and travel. The way we wanted.”

Romeo looked up, finding the blue eyes instantly but said nothing.

“We should leave, shouldn’t we?” Carlo asked. He seemed hesitant.
“We should.” There was a beat, some understanding forming between them. “Maybe later?”
“We won’t, will we?”

As the sun disappeared and its last rays faded away from the room, realisation came down on them. They were not leaving the city. Not while it was so torn apart, not when a friend felt insecure, not when they could sense a catastrophe approaching. But would they ever have the chance later?

Carlo looked out the window and Romeo saw the tears forming. He hugged him tighter, placing kisses over his lover’s heart.

“Whatever happens. Whether we ever leave or not. Promise me we’ll stay together.”

Romeo jerks awake, words echoing in his mind.
How long has it been since that promise? Since Carlo died?
A few years. An eternity.

He gets to his feet, hearing screams, warnings, clashes of weapons beyond the double door.

He’ll finally be with Carlo again.
They’ll save Krat together, or he’ll die trying. The second option is a selfish wish of his.
He should keep fighting, but Romeo is tired. He longs for Carlo. They’ll be together soon, he knows it.

The stage is ready. The play is about to start.
It will be the last one. His last one.

The doors are pushed open with force and a puppet walks in.
It looks just like Carlo, when he was fifteen. When Romeo kissed him for the first time.
How long has it been? Doesn’t matter.
Soon it’ll be over.

Let the end begin.