Trigger warning: crying.

Camille's P.O.V.
I tried not to think about it when I didn't need to, but it was one of those times when I needed to not only think about it but talk about it.

"The one that imprisoned me last year," I said, finding it difficult to spit out the words. "I think that's the master. It might be trying to get personal information on us, or take us down from the inside."

"Why would anyone want to do that," Owen asked. "What do we have that they want?"

"It wants the substance it spoke of last year," Logan said. "The substance that makes up a Side's form. It wants to use it to give itself a form."

"Perhaps now is not the time for discussion," said someone behind me. "Instead, we should possibly be doing what we previously suggested."

"And what exactly would that be," I questioned. "We suggested a lot of things."

"Take Virgil to bed—uphold our end of the deal."

"Alright then," Milly said, slowly moving away from me and towards Virgil. "What are we waiting for? Let's go home." The workers and officials began to file cautiously out the door while we Sides and Thomas huddled around Virgil, all grabbing his hand or his arm so we could go together.

"To Virgil's room on three," Thomas said. "One, two, three." At the same time, we all teleported to the floor of Virgil's room, some of us stone-faced and others frowning or looking around anxiously. The next few minutes were spent lifting Virgil into his bed and trying to leave quietly. Somehow or another we found ourselves in Patton's room.

"So," Thomas said. "What are we gonna do when he wakes up?"

"Act natural," Milly suggested.

"How do we act natural after all of that just happened?" Owen asked.

"We remember that Virgil's life is on the line here," Milly answered, her voice dropping low and loud, apparently scaring Owen. She continued a moment later in her usual voice, "also, we all like acting, right?" Of course, everyone nodded. "Well, just think of it as acting. Let's pretend Virgil and Roman are the audience, we're the actors, and we're doing.. improv, let's say we're doing improv. We have our basic storyline: nothing's wrong with Roman, then we go from there and try to convince the audience. Sound good?" What other choice did any of us have but to nod and pretend that this was fine?

"We'll just try to act natural," Owen repeated.

"This may be the most difficult acting gig I've ever done," Thomas said. "Plus, we're supposed to have another Sanders Sides video up within the next two or three weeks. If we miss it, we might have Roman and the fandom suspicious."

"Perhaps you could do a video with just Patton and I," Logan suggested. "Or one with just the kids. Either way, it'd be best to leave Roman and Virgil out of any videos we do."

There was still so much more to say, but nobody had the strength to say it. We all said our goodbyes and goodnights, Thomas left, but the remaining six of us hesitated to leave.

"I.. I don't want to sleep alone tonight," Owen mumbled.

"I don't think I do either," I said. The six of us shared nervous glances, all wondering what to do.

"How about the four of you have a sleepover," Patton said.

"But we have class in the morning," Owen said. I flicked him on the back of the head, which seemed to make him realize it wasn't really a sleepover.

"Class is now delayed two hours," Logan said. "It will be held from ten to four. Now, the four of you, off to whoever's room you will be staying in tonight."

We went out in the hallway for just a minute to discuss who's room we would sleep in, then decided on Anthony's and went there, locking the door and sealing the room behind us. Silently, we took turns using the bathroom and getting ready for bed again while setting up air mattresses to sleep on. The four of us climbed into our beds and lay staring into the darkness, not even bothering to try sleeping.

"What are we doing," Milly asked. "Pretending that nothing's wrong? Everything's wrong. Everything."

"Not everything," Owen said.

"Give me one example of something that hasn't gone wrong," Milly snapped.

"Well, uh—"

"Exactly! There's nothing that hasn't gone wrong! Even I went wrong! I can't even be around my own family without putting them in danger!"

"You think you're the only one putting people in danger," I yelled. "Do you know what it's like to go to sleep every night and wonder if that day was your last day? Or to wake up every morning and check your hands to make sure they're still your hands?"

"Guys," Anthony interrupted. "We all have our own issues, and we don't have time to argue over who's got it worse!"

"I think murder's inarguably worse..." I mumbled.

"Camille, I'm serious," Anthony said sternly. "There are bigger issues at hand. Roman is missing, there's an imposter posing as him, said imposter made a deal to keep secrets from Virgil or he dies."

"It sounds so straightforward when you say it like that," Milly said. "What are we gonna do guys?"

"We work behind the scenes," Anthony answered.

"Anthony, please," Milly whined. "Stop. Just stop. You make it seem like it's so easy to just figure out what the imposter's mission is and stop it, but it's not. I know you're Courage and all, but you need to snap out of that fantasy world of yours. This isn't some fairy tale where the hero makes mistakes but in the end everything's okay and the villain's defeated. This is real life; if you make mistakes, it could either be an apology that fixes it or a necromancer. The sooner you realize that the sooner we can actually get crap done."

We were all silent for a moment, taking in what Milly said, before Owen broke the silence with, "you sound like Virgil." Milly, as I saw faintly in the darkness, turned to face Owen.

"What did you say," she asked.

"You sound just like Virgil." Milly looked down at her blanket, which she was tugging at with clenched fists.

"I miss him," she whispered, the words only being audible because there were no other sounds.

"But he hasn't gone anywhere," Owen said.

"That's not what she means," I said.

"I just wish we could go back to the way things were before Valentines Day," Milly said. "Before the deal, or the abnormalities, or attack, before the dark room, or the murders, or the curse."

"But, Milly," I said. "We weren't even alive then. You don't... you don't really think things were better off without us, do you?" She was quiet for a moment.

"I don't know. Maybe."

No one said anything after that. There was nothing else that could be said. Instead, we lie awake for hours in Anthony's dark and silent room. As I sat staring up at the ceiling, I wondered, how much worse was this going to get? Milly seemed to be losing her hope, her joy, and herself. I was starting to think she wasn't the only one.

Logan's P.O.V.
The kids shut the door, and only seconds later Patton burst into tears. He threw his arms around me and buried his face in my chest.

"Patton, love, what troubles you so?"

"Virgil," Patton wailed. "I can't lose him again!"

"Patton, Patton, please, we're not going to lose him. So long as we uphold our end of the deal, he will be safe."

"There's no point in being safe."

"W-What? Patton, safety is crucial to survival, and survival is one of our—and especially Virgil's—missions as Sides. How could you say that safety is pointless?"

"Imagine if you had to choose between marrying me but spending the rest of your life in danger, or marrying someone posing as me but being completely safe. Which one do you choose? Me, or safety?"

I was left entirely speechless by the question. My natural instinct is to ensure survival, so safety should have undoubtedly been the better option. However, I've frequently thrown instinct aside when it comes to Patton.

"For you, love, I'd give up all the safety I have and ever will have."

"So you see what Virgil's dealing with."

"Safety and life are two very different things. Life is the ultimate value, and therefore must be protected, no matter the cost."

"Would you die for me?" Again, I was left speechless.

"I.. I would."

"Then you understand that sometimes there are things more important than living?" I chuckled quietly, barely audible over Patton's sniffling.

"And I'm supposedly Logic," I said. "Though, I suppose there's a difference between intelligent and wise."

"What are we going to do," Patton asked. "We can pretend for tonight, for tomorrow, for a week, but eventually we won't be able to pretend anymore."

"I don't know, love," I answered. "I don't know. Perhaps we find a loophole, work around our boundaries. But perhaps we will only know what to do in the final moments before we do it."