Vincent found the square by following a route Virgil had described once, years ago, in passing. He hadn't been certain he remembered it right until he turned the corner and there it was. A small corner of the world, tucked away beneath the shadow of overgrown trees. Virgil was already on a bench with his jacket folded beside him, watching the fountain.
He looked up when Vincent arrived and smiled just a little "You found it."
"Eventually." Vincent sat beside Virgil, a little too upright and tense to fit in with the scenery. "How long have you been out here?"
"A while." Virgil leaned back and stretched his arms over the back rest of the bench. "It's the right size. Not too much going on. Perfect for stargazing."
"Is that right? I can't say I understand why."
Their eyes both trailed upward and settled on the night sky. Vincent couldn't quite seem to understand what was so great about it, but one glance sideways at his brother was all he needed to understand why it mattered. It was peaceful. They'd needed a bit of peace for a long while now.
"You wanted to talk." Virgil said.
"I wanted to see how you were."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," Vincent said. "It isn't."
Virgil looked at the fountain with a sigh. "I'm alright."
"It's rare seeing you out of the house lately. I'll take it you've been feeling better?"
"I'm processing." He glanced over. "I'm going to get back on track. Got things to do before the will reading." Vincent murmured something incoherent, causing Virgil's head to snap toward him with narrowed eyes. "What?"
"You've been quiet about the will. Not a word about plans for what you'll do, or butting heads with father."
Virgil looked at his hands and shrugged. "I don't think I'm getting anything from it."
Vincent was speechless for a moment, blinking in confusion. "You don't know that."
"I've got a pretty reasonable suspicion." He countered, no self-pity in his voice. "Mum's clause about clean records. My record isn't exactly clean, is it." He looked up at his elder brother who sat speechless with a look of pity on his face. "She wrote that will carefully. I don't think she left gaps."
"I don't know if it works that way."
"I know you don't." Virgil turned the jacket over in his lap. "I'm not asking you to."
"She wouldn't have wanted to punish you," Vincent said. "Whatever she wrote."
"Yeah." He huffed, having already made peace with it. "Doesn't really matter either way."
"It does. Mother wouldn't set you up that way."
"Dad probably might."
Vincent slumped further into the bench with a sigh. "Possibly. Mother's financial records don't line up with how much was supposedly paid to the facility. It might be that father took over the payments after their last disagreement."
Virgil was quiet for a moment. "You think he had something to do with how fast she went?"
"I'm not saying that. I'm just thinking out loud."
Virgil looked at the fountain silently for a while. Thinking. Then eventually gave a small shrug. "Okay."
"Just that?"
"Yeah." Virgil nodded slowly. "Just tha."
A pause settled between them. Vincent watched his brother's face and tried to read what was behind the composure and found, as he usually did, that it wasn't quite reachable from where he was sitting.
"Virgil,"
"Yes?"
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
Virgil looked at him then. A rare, direct, look that caught the elder brother off guard. "I've been thinking about what comes next. You know, after the reading."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"I think it's going to sort itself out."
Something cold settled at the base of Vincent's spine. "What does that mean?"
"It means it'll sort itself out. I'll be out of the equation soon anyway ." He looked back at the fountain. "Don't worry about it."
"I'm asking you not to do that."
"Do what?" He asked gently. No edge to it.
"Whatever it is you're thinking about doing." Vincent kept his voice level with some effort. "I'm asking you not to."
Virgil looked at him for a long time. The composure didn't crack but something behind his eyes shifted slightly. "I hear you," he said.
Which was not the same as agreeing.
Vincent sat with that. He should have pushed harder, been more clear. Yet all he could do was watch Virgil sitting beside him on a bench beside him looking a bit too calm.
"Mum would have liked it here," Virgil said.
The change of subject was gentle and deliberate and Vincent let it happen because he didn't know what else to do with the moment that had just passed between them.
"She would have painted it," he said.
"Badly." The corner of his mouth moved. "She was good at people. Rubbish at everything else."
"She'd have gotten the birds right."
"Always."
Vincent looked at the trees. A few birds in the branches doing nothing in particular. He thought about the painting above the fireplace. Five birds on a wire. Every one of them true.
"I miss her," Virgil said.
"Yes," Vincent said. "So do I."
They sat together for a while after that. Not talking, not needing to. The kind of company that didn't require maintenance, that had always existed between them underneath the years and the distance and everything left unsaid. It wasn't enough. Vincent knew it wasn't enough.
Eventually Virgil stood and picked up his jacket.
"I should get back home," he said. "Long day tomorrow."
"You suddenly have plans?"
"Yes. I'm thinking about getting back in the studio again. Violet's been hounding me."
Vincent stood awkwardly. "Might as well head on my way too. No point in staying here anyway." He looked at his brother one last time. "Be seeing you."
"Take care of yourself," Virgil said with a small wave. "Actually take care of yourself, yeah?"
He walked away across the square. Vincent watched until he turned the corner and was gone.
"That was the last time I talked to him. The Sunday before he died." Vincent spoke with a slow, somber cadence. Raoul listened to every word.
Usually he'd have had his notebook at the ready, taking down notes. That wasn't necessary this time. The case of Virgil Vale's death was already settled all but officially. So instead he leaned back in his chair, looking at the man shrinking into himself on his bed, and sighed. "I'm sorry."
Vincent shook his head. "That's unnecessary."
"It doesn't sound like you saw it coming. Your brother didn't exactly make his intentions clear."
"That's not an excuse." he groaned. "I should've talked him down the second I grew suspicious."
"You seemed suspicious of Nero's actions though. At least regarding his financial transactions." Vincent nodded in the affirmative. "And that's what I'll find in the files?" Vincent gave another nod.
"Will that be enough for your case?"
Raoul sighed, stood up, and walked over to the door. He unlocked it then turned sound, seeing Vincent still brooding on his bed. "It's certainly given me more to work with." He huffed.
"I guess I should let you prepare for your day. I apologize for disturbing your rest." Vincent got up from the bed and walked towards the door, walking past the detective only to stop in the doorway. "I'm guessing your investigation is over now?"
Raoul shook his head. "Not yet." Both his eyes met Vincent's, watching them twist into confusion.
"But Virgil's death was determined already."
"That's true." He agreed, arms crossed over his head. "But my investigation ends when I'm done looking into every possible thread. And when that happens, you'll know."
Vincent looked at him for a moment, almost in disbelief. Then he nodded once and walked out, his shoulders slightly less tense than a moment ago.
Raoul closed the door behind him, stood with his hand on the handle for a moment, then turned back to face the quiet of his apartment.
Virgil's suicide wasn't spontaneous or unplanned. Virgil had set things up this way, and Raoul was nowhere close to understanding why.