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Chapter Text

When Jonathan Joestar takes his last breath, it is like the earth has split below Dio's feet and he feels a chasm strike across the expanse of his being.

In the immediate present, he takes the sentiment to be disappointment: of course he had underestimated Jojo yet again and of course his plans had gone awry. And then when he was cutting off his nemesis' head and replacing it with his own, he thinks the hole will be closed up. He has a body now, even if the ship is burning, burning still. He doesn't have enough time to flex the fingers on his new body before the smoke and heat force him into the chest.

When he takes Jonathan's head with him it is still bleeding from the neck. He cradles it as Jonathan had held onto him and attributes the action to a flight of fancy. Then he closes the lid, turns the lock, and waits.

Inside the chest, there is darkness and velvet. His original plan had been to have the whole ship arrive at its final destination filled to the brim with his slaves. Like a sickness they would have spread and his control over the late colonies would have been guaranteed. But now, there is no one to retrieve him and he is both blind and deaf to the outside world. The ship bursts into flames and he feels more than hears the casket flying past the debris, into the ocean.

For a long time, he simply sinks, the holding container tilted at that awkward angle to balance out the weight. There is a listless drifting and shifting, of the currents, the creatures, perhaps even the continents themselves.

But in the darkness and even at the bottom of the ocean, the chasm is still there.

Well of course it would still be there, his mind rationalizes. The feeling of diappointment cannot be cured without the realization of his goals.

Time passes, even if he cannot feel it. In the darkness of that chest, he goes a little crazy. Once, or perhaps many times, well certainly after the air had run out and after he had already tried sleeping through the ordeal, he had tried to unlock the chest, only to be halted by the unforgiving water pressure and his own crippling weakness. It was definitely luck -- pure, dumb, luck -- that the treasure hunters stupid enough to search through the debris pulled him up at sundown. What a disappointing ending that would've been, he's thought at least once, to be trapped in a trunk for nearly a century only to have his ambitions foiled by the melting ray of the sun.

He doesn't remember what happened when they pried the lid open and it's only after he's drunk every drop of their blood that a bit of sense returns to him. As a coping mechanism, a good part of his brain had probably been extinguished altogether. In stretching his muscles and working his limbs, something falls into place and the memories start to flow back into him. A lifetime before, an even older stone mask, untold powers, and an army of undead. A foolish archaeologist he knew, once. How he wanted to rule it all. How he still does.

His gaze drifts back to his resting place. Somehow, when even thought and speech had been taken from him, whatever reason remained had thought it necessary to preserve the head. It is subsequently in better condition than the body. Jonathan's eyes are closed and his face is set in a perpetually serene expression. Dio makes an effort of wiping the blood and grime from his hands before picking up the head.

It is true, then, that the body will sometimes remember what the brain has forgotten. Although he has only studied Jojo's techniques to the extent of being able to counter them, Jonathan's body still knows how to manipulate its own life energy to walk on water. Later, when he's researching the topic further, he'll realize how remarkable Jojo's body is: one in ten thousand be damned, to be able to stay alive for a century and then function without sunlight, the odds were easily one in one million! At the moment, he smply concentrates on breathing, marvelling at how the body rejoices with each inhale and exhale.

He is distracted for a couple days at best, but it is a distraction nonetheless. It takes him a good part of the night to reach the shores of what he later discovers to be the Canary Islands. He drains a couple more victims, wipes his hands clean, grabs Jonathan, and steals away on another ship before daybreak. In between feedings, he manages to get a sense of time and place: it is 1983 and he is somewhere along the coast of Morocco on the western edge of the dark continent. A lot has changed in ninety-four years -- the up-to-date political geography which he had prided himself on learning is for all intents and purposes useless -- but the world, and the people within it, are essentially the same. The vast majority are weak and spineless, too happy to listen to someone, anyone, who is better.

He consumes with a thirst he doesn't remember from before the shipwreck. It's only natural that he needs more energy even though Jojo's body isn't quite as damaged as his own was after the collapse of the Joestar mansion. The building he's currently in is strangely similar to that, to the extent that it was empty of life and painted with blood. Jojo would not have approved, would certainly have tried to stop him. Probably would have succeeded too, because Dio could never fully account for him. It is in reminiscing about that fight that causes Dio to look at Jojo's head, wondering. With an uncharacteristic gentleness he picks it up with both hands, placing it in his lap. In stroking the still-soft hair, he remembers the man's last moments: his peaceful expression, his unyielding arms, and that embrace which had somehow incapacitated Dio, albeit momentarily. It was an intimacy Jojo had never shown to Dio back when they were alive.

At the end of all things, he is still the same person he was, before death and before the span of a hundred years. He is selfish and he always wants and what he wants now is to be able to gloat, with Jojo alive and thereby able to suffer, knowing the full extent of Dio's victory. So he cuts himself, wedging a thumb between Jonathan's teeth and forcing his blood to drip in. Then he sets the head back on the dresser and waits.

Minutes bleed into an hour and it soon becomes clear that the head will not wake. The chasm, which he had been distracted from, reintroduces itself with a vengeance. Disappointment and frustration bite away at him and were he any younger, he would have thrown the head clear across the room for refusing reanimation. But time has passed and he is no longer the penniless pauper, a puppet to rage. And so he takes a deep breath, picking the head up again and turning it so the candlelight glinted off its features.

Strangely enough, the head still does not share the same pallour as Dio -- indeed, its cheeks were almost pink. With his thumb, Dio traces the edge of the cheekbone to the start of the jawline. Everything is as he remembers it and yet, nothing is right at all.

At some point, he ceases his observations, taking the head with him into bed.

The temptation to speak to it is as strong as it had been underwater. Nonetheless, he refrains.

Chapter Text

The rest of 1983 passes by in a monochromatic blur. Dio spends his nights finding new prey and reading up on the times and his days stolen away in some large estate or another. He never stays in any place for long: there was one property whose recently deceased owner had managed to amass an impressive collection of western literature -- English and French more importantly -- so Dio stays there for a couple of weeks. The knowledge which he had taken pride in honing, his grasp of the world as it used to be, it's all outdated now. The romance languages are no longer lingua franca. Instead, it is the english of the American colonies, a slow drawl that weighs on the tongue.

In retrospect, he has no idea what amount of sustenance is 'necessary' much less 'normal' for a creature like himself. When he had donned the mask and gotten his new powers, Jojo had immediately crushed him under the Joestar mansion and it had taken him months of ravenous feeding to fully recover. Then he had fought Jojo again and again Jojo had beaten him, this time reducing him to a state where no amount of blood would have healed his wounds. Their third and final encounter had led to him trapped under a league's worth of water at the bottom of the sea and again, he was left in a reduced state.

The real problem with Jonathan's body, magnificent though it still was, was that it refused to fully heal. It has been six months since he's been revived and although a good amount of bulk has returned to the body, the well of strength which Jonathan had so easily tapped into even before he was taught those ridiculous breathing exercises... Dio cannot access it all. No, more than that, he cannot register it.

In these sort of situations he finds himself looking once more at his old enemy-turned-companion. Outside of feedings, Jojo's head is never more than an arm's length away. He has tried many more times to awaken the head, alternating between his own blood and that of his meals, but its eyes remain closed, though the face never loses complexion. If he hadn't been there at Jojo's death, when he had gathered up the last of his life force to make one final attack, Dio could believe him to be alive. And indeed, with the head as stubborn in reanimating as the man itself, and the godforsaken body following suit... at times Dio wonders if he'll ever escape the other man's meddling.

The first point of contention is this: he has never considered abandoning Jonathan's body for a more pliable one. This is because, in his mind, this body is the pinnacle and any failure of acclimation must be his own fault.

The second point of contention, then, is that in the same way he religiously refuses to speak to the head, he is also unable to deprive it of blood. He does not know if it is necessary but he also is not cruel enough (or brave enough) to see otherwise. Now that he's confirmed that the blood of others -- young and old, male and female -- cause no difference in Jonathan's non-reaction, he simply finishes feasting himself before moving on to nourish the head.

The final point of contention is that, try as he may, the chasm remains, a gap in his chest with no physical start or end. It doesn't hurt in the same sense an absence of a limb does not hurt, but it reminds him of its existence every now and then.

He soon grows tired of the sound of the city so he wraps the head in linen and steals south in the night. With the twinkling of stars overhead and the soulless thrum of civilization behind him, Dio reacquaints himself with the abilities the mask bestowed upon him. The increase in strength, speed, and reaction time -- the rush of adrenaline is enough to make him feel invincible. And yet, after the prying eyes of the desert jackals have been gouged out and even as he's practically gliding across the sand in search of shelter from the break of dawn, he feels someone's gaze upon him. Definitely human judging by the scent, and from that humanity, he waves them off. Humans are no threat to him. So he ducks underneath a generous overhang and curls up against the covered head.

When night falls once more, he wakes and finds that he cannot sense the presence from the previous night. Shrugging it off to be a wayward nomad, he picks Jojo up and continues running. Eastwards, towards the rising of the sun, across an infinite stretch of dunes. Though the desert is far from silent, especially during the night, the aural proof of the animal kingdom is almost calming. This is the sort of land Jonathan would have been interested in, he thinks. In this barren expanse where one cannot tell beginning from end, where there is no sign of anyone, it would come as little surprise for ancient ruins to lie underneath. But he is not Jonathan. So he angles himself slightly north, picking up the pace until he comes across a settlement of tents encircling an oasis. There are no young women here but he is not in a fussy mood.

Afterwards, when he has drunk his fill and made sure Jojo has done the same, when he is washing the blood from his hands and both their faces, he feels it again: someone gazing upon him. Someone human. He carefully sets Jojo aside, closing his eyes to concentrate on the scents carried through the dead air. There is still at least an hour before daybreak: enough time to assess the intruder and rid himself of it if necessary.

"Who approaches I, Dio?" he asks, extending a hand.

And there -- sudden movement to the left. A man steps out of the shadows and with his dark skin and light clothing, Dio almost mistakes him to be one of the deceased settlers.

"You name is Dio, then?" the man asks and already, Dio knows there is something wrong with this scene.

"What of it?" he shrugs.

"You are not of this world... and yet, you have not been chosen."

"Chosen?"

The man laughs. His eyes spin in their sockets. "Your powers are great indeed, but there are stronger forces still."

Dio decides to change the subject. "How long have you been observing me?"

"Since the previous night. I thought it strange enough that a foreigner would be wandering the desert at night. My suspicions were confirmed when you survived."

And that is when Dio realizes what is wrong: although this person is going through all the actions of 'life': moving, talking, breathing, blinking, it is an illusion unable to fool his heightened senses. So he barks out a laugh, fully extending his claws and taking a step towards the unafraid corpse.

"If you wish to speak to me again," he drawls, "Do not use such a medium. It is an insult to me, to Dio."

Without waiting for a response, he beheads the man who, in turn, neatly crumples to dust. This sort of reanimation is different from what he knows, though the fact the 'controller' chose to stay out of harm's way means they are even less of a threat. He will need to research it nonetheless, but at a later time.

At the present, he picks up Jonathan's head, brushing the sand from his skin. There is sand trapped in his hair too, and Dio will not have it, so he rummages around the beaudoir of one of the dead women, fishing out of a comb made of acacia wood. He combs through Jonathan's hair while reclining against the only chaise in the settlement and finds it to be as soft as ever. As with the rest of him, and both of them, it has neither grown nor shrunk with time. Nostalgia bubbles up and he finds himself reciting -- if not outright singing -- the lullaby his own mother had sung to him so many years ago.

The next evening, he decides he's had enough of the desert. So he picks Jojo up once more and heads north, eventually stopping at some bustling port city. The increased population is a plus certainly, but instead of sating his thirst, he helps himself to a dead scholar's extensive library. Most of it is in Italian, which he has little knowledge of, but there are a couple books with French translations and footnotes. There is nothing, unfortunately, of reviving the dead: what was sorcery a hundred years ago has become storybook fiction in the present. Leafing through the other volumes, he briefly entertains the notion of speaking to a scholar of the subject himself.

The notion does not last long for the puppetmaster pays him a visit the following night.

"My name is Enya," the withered crone introduces herself. And then with no warning, she stabs his hand with an arrowhead. For some reason, he is unable to block and only able to retaliate. But retaliate he does though the surge of pain is nothing. As he explains, he will kill her because she has harmed his most valuable possession.

"Lord Dio," she rasps, eyes gleaming even as his hand closes around her windpipe, "Lord Dio, do you feel it?"

He lets her fall to floor because yes, he does. It is a surge of power unlike anything he's experienced. As if his very shadow has lifted him up, as if the ever-present chasm has imploded, filling up on itself and leaving a still-wider gap. There is no surge of light like that of the stone mask's activation, merely a couple drops of spilled blood before the wound closes itself. And then he sees it: a manifestation of light itself. Glimmering gold highlighted with glints of green, all painted atop a being with a stature not unlike his.

For a while, he simply stares.

"I see you're met your strongest ally," the woman -- Enya -- murmurs. She goes on to explain the existence of Stands, a power related (at least by name) to Jonathan's Ripple energy. Their uses, their limitations, their differences from user to user, their origins, as so on. She also presents his stand with a name: The World.

"The World... interesting..." he muses, snapping his fingers. The Stand drops the old woman and returns to his side. Like with this body, there is an undercurrent of rebellion in the Stand. But its speed and destructive power already outclass his own. And there is something else as well, energy in addition to brute force. It is another mystery to be solved. It is certainly satisfying, to be in-control of this level of power. His gaze returns to the intruder, fallen in a heap and rubbing at her throat. "State your purpose. What benefits do you obtain by gifting I, Dio, with an ally like this?"

"None at all," she gasps, "I simply saw your strength when you were pitted against that pack of jackals and wanted to discover what Stand someone of your caliber would be given."

"Is that all?" he sneers, cracking his knuckles.

"What is it you desire?" she interrupts. "Whatever it is, I will help you achieve it. The World may be your strongest weapon, but I promise I will be the most loyal." On her hands and knees, she crawls up to him, prostrating herself and then kissing his feet, "Make use of me as you see fit, Lord Dio."

Such immediate obedience would be more flattering if he weren't used to it already. But as it was, she had already proven herself useful and despite her talks of raising armies to take on the world, he figured the idea of having a handful more Stand users all just as loyal to him wouldn't be a bad thing. So he spares her life and allows her to seek "more fitting" accommodation for him. In the meanwhile, he retreats to the owner's suite of the inn, lazing about the bed with Jojo in his lap.

As Enya had said, The World is incapable of speech, perhaps even incapable of thought. Indeed, as it is disposing of the bodies in the lower floors, it is as if Dio is there as well. The creak of the stairs, the cold and sticky bloodstains, the weight of their limp bodies... and yet, he does not 'know' anything. His Stand returns to him soon enough, not at all worse for the wear, and as he has no further use for it, it simply retreats back into him.

It is an interesting turn of events. Fate at work, no doubt. But there was something in that exchange which had disturbed him. What is it you desire? Enya had asked him. He had not considered the question worth answering then, but now that he is without her, he realizes he does not have an answer. There are things he wants of course, but the overarching goals from his previous life -- a magnificent amount of wealth or control over the world -- interest him no longer. Had he planned on traipsing through the whole of the dark continent in the night with no destination or reason in mind?

As if on cue, the gap between 'nothing' and 'something' makes itself known and he throws himself up off the bed, walking over to the full-length mirror. His life has not been one of loss and he needs to remind himself of that by admiring his greatest prize. That was the plan, at least. But as soon as he's a breath away from the mirror, purple vines not unlike those of roses snake out from his body's lower arms, attaching themselves to the mirror. No, not attaching -- a better word would be 'immersing'. The events of the past century flicker across the mirror -- the sinking of the Jonathan's honeymoon ship, the surprising survival of his bride. Erina is carrying a child in a casket out at sea, then the image fades to two children -- one of which must have been Jonathan's son. Dio watches, caught between rapture and disgust, at the reveal of Jonathan's grandchild and the death of Jonathan's son. At the young boy's subsequent adventure across the American colonies and into Mexico. The discovery of the creators of the stone mask along with that damned Speedwagon's meddling. It shows the grandchild's wedding and only child, a daughter, before slowing down to a circle of familiar faces huddled about an old woman's deathbed. The old woman is Erina Joestar, and she takes her last breath surrounded by family and friends. Then, the moving picture ends.

The vines retract into his skin, except it's as if they're not there. It's as if they were...

"Jojo," Dio breathes, whirling back towards the bed. He sinks to his knees, cradling the head between both his hands. "Jojo, that was a vision you asked for, right?"

There are tears running down the head's cheeks, although its eyes are still closed. Dio tries to wipe them away, but they will not stop. Jonathan does not make a sound -- does not open his eyes or breathe or speak throughout the rest of the night. Eventually, Dio sleeps too. When he wakes the next evening and pulls Jonathan's head out from beneath the crook of his chin, he sees the tears have finally stopped.

He stares at it for a long, long time. As if an intense enough gaze would cause it to wake.

"Jojo," he whispers again, wonder bleeding into his tone, "Do you... still live?"

The chasm swallows him whole and he welcomes it.

Chapter Text

Dio spends the next week in a frenzied state, flitting from one private library to the next, helping himself to anything which was concerned with reviving the dead. After the old woman had explained that Stands were created from spirits and souls, the fact that his body possessed two stands was proof positive that Jonathan was still, against all odds, alive. There are things he knows he should be considering, such as why Jonathan's stand manifested on his old body instead of his head; whether there was any relation to 'a stand existing' and 'its user living'; and of course why he was hell-bent on reviving his greatest nemesis and single most certain foil to his plans, no, to his existence, in the first place.

But they are irritating questions with no real answers and though they stem from his own consciousness, he dismisses them soon enough, throwing himself at a chunk of freshly-retrieved literature with renewed passion.

After various harebrained and fruitless endeavors, all of which needed to be carried out in the night, Dio collapses in the asylum-of-choice one evening, glaring hard at the head.

"Must you still be so stubborn, Jojo?" he spits. Again, the urge to throw the head is strong. "I know you're alive as there's no chance I, Dio, would develop a second stand, and certainly not one as useless as yours." As usual, the head says nothing. He opens and closes his mouth, exhaling slowly. He does not need to waste words on an unresponsive fragment especially when they'll have all the time in the world to converse once Jojo wakes. And he will wake, Dio is certain of that much. Because he believes in nothing if not the intertwined nature of their destinies and if he is alive, then Jojo must be there to bite at his heels.

He sets aside the head and leans back, thinking to his previous attempts. He's started off with the assumption that the head was dead and needed to be revived, trying things like electricity, moonlight, and witch-like concoctions. Then he postulates that the head is already alive (running off the assumption it must be alive in order to have a Stand, assuming the old woman understood the mechanics of Stands as well as her all-knowing tone implied) and it needs to be woken up. So he tries submerging it in water, shaking it about, even a couple milder drugs, despite his own reservations. There were more intrusive methods like dissecting the brain and shocking it directly but he is no surgeon and he will not relinguish Jonathan to anyone else.

Jonathan's now-dead wife would have been an asset in this sort of situation, he thinks. But she is dead and he is unabashedly gleeful, Jojo's bout of tears notwithstanding. If that woman were still alive, he has no doubt the strange bond she shared with her husband would have come into play and further complicated his plans. No, he shakes his head, reaching for an as-yet-unread volume of a medical journal, he is the one who will bring Jonathan Joestar back to life -- him, Dio, and no other.

He stumbles upon a citation of an interesting publication in that volume: one whose subject matter corresponds closest with his own. The author of the volume had written, in a surprisingly blunt way, that although they disagreed with the other publication's author in terms of policy and ethics, their report provided astounding information with regards to manipulation of the human body via internal and external non-alloy sources. Another week is spent looking for said article -- an English translation of a German publication -- but after exhausting every library in Tripoli, he cannot find it, except as a footnote in additional references.

Tripoli has served its purpose then. The nobles here are already on high alert and though an entire army wouldn't be able to stop him, he would still rather avoid confrontation. Especially, his conscience chides, as he still has Jojo's head to safekeep. Besides, he's stayed in the owner's suite for two weeks and they'll be uncovering the owner's body soon enough. As with before, he wraps the head up with care, though this time he takes a purseful of coins to further ease the passage. From there on out, it's an eastward cut across the Libyan Desert. Even at top speed, it takes him two and a half nights to reach Cairo.

Ah, but then there is Cairo. Cairo -- the desert's bloom! Dio is not the sort of person to wax poetic about anything much less places; the only reason he notices the cut of brick and the winding of streets is because it is the useless sort of thing Jonathan would be interested in. Still, there is something about the city that makes it different, grander, than the previous ones -- even the London of a hundred years past. Someone tries to sell him something, two more bump into him, someone else mistakes him to be German, and a fifth insect attempts to swipe Jonathan.

Dio doesn't even raise a hand. He does not need to, for The World appears and within the blink of an eye, the man's own undeserving hands fall to the floor. Dio stalks back into the shadows, paying the screaming pickpocket no mind. He has gotten comfortable to using his Stand in the past couple weeks he realizes, and makes a note to treat the old woman better if she managed to find him again. It really was a most useful gift.

In Cairo too, there are disgustingly wealthy individuals living in disgustingly luxurious conditions. One of them has an extensive library, so Dio takes that, along with their life. There are also fine young woman, lithe and tan, writhing for a spark of eternity, a punctuation of pleasure. Dio gives it to them, sometimes, right before taking their blood. He lets some of them escape courtesy of his own festering curiosity. Jonathan's body was certainly not lacking in any capacity (except obedience) and any children who were begotten from the union... He clears his head shortly, slitting his wrist and letting some blood flow into Jonathan's head. Then he resumes his search for the elusive article.

As luck -- or more likely, destiny -- would have it, the man with an extensive library happens to speak English, or least have a primarily English collection of books, and the article Dio is looking for is in his extensive library. The single-print-run monograph is buried at the top of the middle shelf, practically wedged between two even thicker tomes. The translator begins with an introduction of the original author's circumstances (a Nazi Colonel stationed in Mexico by the name of Rudolf von Stroheim) before delving into the work itself. It explains the unusual occurrence at a laboratory in middle-America, as well as the connection between the Ripple energy, the vampires made by the stone mask, and the ancient race which had risen only to be extinguished soon after. So this was what Speedwagon and Jonathan's grandson had been up to, Dio muses. And this was the reason for the creation of the stone mask. A sting of irritation pricks at him yet again -- to be a smaller feature of a larger goal, to be sustenance for an ancient people. He's almost disappointed Jonathan's grandson destroyed them before he could take a shot himself. But no, that is in the long past.

The most interesting passage of von Stroheim's report is their victory over and subsequent containment of the initially-discovered 'Pillar Man'. How he was still able to absorb living matter despite being severely slowed by the UV lighting. The stronger three seemed to be unaffected altogether, with the leader of the group being able to stand in broad daylight and make use of the Ripple force, which meant that it was not a power exclusive to humans. The author goes on to postulate that it was the Ripple energy and not, as previously discussed, the acupuncture injected by the stone mask, which allowed the ancient race to survive for centuries.

He knows this much: the key to waking Jojo up is there, somewhere, in that passage. He reads and rereads it until his eyes burn twin holes clear through the book. Then he sets it aside and picks up the nearby head, taking it with him to the four-poster bed on the upper floor.

Ripple energy. The same life force which enabled Stands. An acupuncture technique involving the stimulation of brain lobes in order to heighten human senses. The creator of vampires being able to stand in the light, being able to use the Ripple. A weaker immortal being turned to stone in the sun.

He stares at the still-peaceful visage of the head. Jonathan would not be happy, finding out he had given his life to eradicate Dio only to find out that Dio had taken his body and re-emerged in a time when his darling Erina was no longer alive. And perhaps if Dio had any kindness, he would care. But that is where they are fundamentally different: though he understands people as much as, if not more than, Jonathan -- at the end of the day, their wants are irrelevant in the face of his own. And what he wants now is the same thing he wanted when they had opened the casket and he had ended the treasure hunters' lives to further his own. And to that end, he needs Jonathan to live once more.

"So it's like that," he murmurs, stroking Jonathan's cheek as the answer dawns upon him, "And most certainly, you yourself did not realize it." He laughs for a while then, because of course Jonathan's deck would be unfairly stacked.

There are two different types of eternity: one properly eternal but a cold mimicry of life, and the other a false prophet but a virtual celebration of living.

Even in conditions which would have killed most Ripple users, Jonathan's excess energy is keeping him on cusp of life. It certainly explains why his cheeks have not lost their color, despite the gallons of blood Dio must have given him throughout the year. But because Dio is a creature of the night, he has been unsuccessful thus far in his attempts to push the other past that edge.

Jonathan needs sunlight to wake.

With the epiphany comes a surge of activity. From elsewhere in the house, he acquires a large and ornate birdcage. With the sunrise in less than half an hour, he places the head in the birdcage before locking the door shut. He then hangs the birdcage from the master bedroom's north-facing window. They are on the third story in a decent-enough looking district. There is no chance of Jonathan unlocking the cage. Still, he ties a cord from the cage to his ankle before pulling the heavy curtains in. In a near-feverish state, he throws himself on the bed. For once, his body is in agreement. Eagerly, he awaits the rising sun.

Dio is woken rudely from his slumber by a tugging on his ankle. Pulled from a pleasant dream, he initially thinks it's an intruder. But when he sits up and bares both fangs and claws, the candlelight illuminates no one. The implications hit him hard and he's dashing from the bed to the window. Unfortunately, the sun is still shining and he manages to keep the curtains open for a fraction of a second before he lets out a wretched wryyyyy and forces them shut once more.

This is what he saw: a particularly suicidal thief, his three bumbling children, and their filthy dirty hands on Jonathan's head.

This is all that mattered: that Jonathan's eyes were open and Jonathan clearly recognized him.

The sunlight is as painful as it had been one hundred years prior and his eyes are already bleeding. Surprisingly enough, it's just his eyes, but he does not have time to ponder the significance. His chest is heaving, it is as if the hole has finally been given a physical space, and his pupils are dilated with rage.

How dare they, how dare they, how dare they --

He does not move until the sun sets, so acute is his anger. The second the city is in shadow however, he cuts the rope from his ankle and leaps from the window, elbow banging against the empty cage. The body and head are still deeply connected; he doesn't even need his sense of smell to locate the family of thieves. When he finds them, it is a bloodbath, and he makes sure to spill none of his own. The World facilitates this greatly. For the first time in a long time, he destroys with the purpose of hurting. The satisfaction that flows into him upon seeing the patriarch down on his knees, sobbing -- it makes him think of his own pathetic father -- there is nothing quite like it. He wipes his hands afterwards and sweeps past the entrance to their meagre stash of treasure.

"Jojo," he calls, "I've come for you."

But the head's eyes are closed yet again and no amount of vitriol will open them.

As he's hopping over rooftops with the head in-tow, he wonders if his own eyes had betrayed him. If it had been a trick of the sunlight. But no, the fact that the head had not burned up despite being in the sun meant that Jojo was not, despite Dio's dedicated efforts, a being of his domain. He is certain of what he saw -- he is certain of what his body felt -- Jojo is alive.

That night, he strings together pieces of a freshly-cracked mirror, a meandering zigzag of maybe's and glass. If his calculations are correct (and they are, he is certain), the angle of the mirror pieces, when attached to the edge of the window, should cause the sunlight to shine upon the cage, thereby allowing him to observe Jojo's reactions from the inside of the the dimly-lit room. He puts his mechanism to test the next morning and it works perfectly.

Like a miniature sunroom, the whole of the cage -- and only the cage -- is illuminated. Although it hurts his head to look at it, at the same time, he cannot tear his gaze away. Slowly, ever so slowly, Jonathan's eyelids flutter. As if waking from a long dream, he blinks once, twice, before adjusting his eyes to the light. Jonathan's eyes sweep up, while Dio falls to his knees.

"Jojo," he practically whispers, breath caught in the hole in his chest, "It has been a long time."

"Dio," Jonathan greets in return, uncertainty flits across his features. His skin is sparkling in the light. He clears his throat, coughing once. "So... that was no dream?"

"It was not."

"Those people... did you kill them?"

"Of course," Dio sniffs. Leave it to Jojo to begin judging right off the bat.

Instead of reprimanding him, or saying anything really, Jojo sighs, closing his eyes. For a moment, Dio frets that the sunlight isn't strong enough, that the other needs direct light in order to stay awake. But Jonathan opens his eyes again, looking up and down Dio's body. A surprising thing happens then: the same purple vines snake out of Dio's arms. Again, he is unable to control them and again, The World makes no effort to stop them. Thus, they press against -- and bleed into -- his temples.

It is a strange sensation, the feeling of someone else combing through your memories. And of course Jojo would be able to control his Stand without a body, without knowing what a Stand was, and of course Dio's own Stand would let him. Jojo's eyes are fluttering, no doubt from the wave of memories. Bitterly, Dio wonders if the other remembers the images from the Stand's first activation, or if Jojo would be reliving his wife's life and death through Dio's own memories.

When it is over and Jojo has seen Dio's side of the past six months, the vines retract back into Dio's arms.

They're both short of breath at the end, though Dio catches his first.

"Well?" he prompts, "Did you see everything?"

In response, Jojo cries anew, closing his eyes and pressing his chin against the floor of the birdcage. His lips move, though no sound escapes. A prayer for Erina's passing, then.

Dio feels a set of fingers clench about his heart.

When Jojo finishes crying, Dio reaches a hand through the cage door to wipe the tears away. Jojo's face is a splotchy mess now, not unlike the twelve-year-old boy from memory who had mourned his stupid dog for upwards of a week. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the contact, before his expression softens into a lop-sided smile.

"I missed you too, Dio," he murmurs.

And just like that, Dio reaches both hands into the cage, sunlight be damned, scooping the head up and into his chest.

It would not do, after all, for his nemesis to see him cry.

Chapter Text

The end of Jonathan's hibernation is like waking from a long and dreamless slumber. Sometimes, he felt things, but he never could be certain if they were really happening or if it was the occasional stretching of synapses. Later, after he's read Dio's memories, he'll connect those bizarre sensations: syrup in his mouth, thorns on his arms, and fingers carding through his hair, but when he first wakes, it is like stepping from one dream into the next.

The near-blinding sunlight, despite its indirect angle, is the first thing he sees. Then it's the bars of his cage, meticulously-carved interlocked ebony-and-ivory by the looks of it. There is a curleque of glass roses at the apex, and a pattern of mother-of-pearl at the base. It is then he notices his lack of a body... the absence of anything below his neck, really. And it is this observation that reaffirms Jonathan's conviction in the whole scene being a dream.

He discovers he can turn and nod his head; that the cage is attached to the overhang of a window and there is a rope attached to the padlock of the cage. He is some stories above the ground level and beneath him, a lively cityscape thrives. It is like a colored version of his mother's traveling diary: fabrics of gold, red, and blue intermingled with the smoke of a roasted lamb. The dust from the wheels of a carriage is no interruption to business and... a second glance reveals the carriage is not drawn by a horse nor powered by a steam engine. If he had hands, he would have been itching to sketch the construction of the cart -- to say nothing of the surrounding architecture. Instead, he makes an effort to engrave it in his mind, subconsciously worried about the next jump.

When the sun is halfway across the sky, he finds that he is neither hungry nor thirsty. In fact, he has yet to start sweating. From what he can see of the other people, they've long since ducked beneath the shade of the now-cramped canopies and wayward farm animals. It certainly comes as a surprise that neither the heat nor sound bother him, despite the constant refrain of "London is too loud; I long for the countryside" in his letters home. Home... now there was a strange thought. Wherever he was... though it was most likely in the Middle East if the announcement through the loudspeaker was indeed the call to prayer... it was certainly not home. The last time he had been home... ah, he had burnt it down. And his father's corpse had been lost in the fire. And then... and then...

His own immediate past flashes before his eyes. For Jonathan too, it is as if 1889 were just yesterday. His wedding day, his wedding night, the honeymoon voyage...

And at the center of things, there is Dio. Had the other man been serious about possessing his body? It would explain why he was without one. But why would Dio keep him alive? And how did he get out of the ship? Jonathan's musings are interrupted by a scrawny man climbing up to the perch. He says something in a tongue Jonathan does not recognize and beckons for someone else. Three someone elses -- his children by the looks of it. The scene is genuinely bizarre: a family of thieves working to get him out. Perhaps they were the ones that put him in the cage...? It is unlikely given their handling of the padlock. The father, despite his appearance, is quite strong: he manages to force the padlock open with his bare hands.

One of the children tugs on the rope. Something curdles in Jonathan then and he makes an effort to tell her stop. She doesn't understand him of course, and then she's practically falling off because of the talking head. The father gestures for one of the older children to pick up the girl, and then the curtains are snapped open. Jonathan sees a flash of red eyes and blond hair -- Dio -- on the other side of the window. Surprisingly enough, his nemesis' expression is one of fear. But fear of what, Jonathan does not find out, for the curtains are pulled shut soon enough and he hears a tell-tale shriek of pain

Dio is still a vampire, this is not a dream, and both of them are somehow still alive.

The wayward thief must think him to be an artifact. Something of value, certainly, because he wastes no time in extracting Jonathan and barks at one of his children for attempting to take the cage. So, for some reason, Dio had put his head -- well, him -- in a cage on a windowsill. Jojo does not know why, but he is certain the thief is not part of Dio's plans. He starts to shake his head violently in the thief's arms and begins to scream.

"No, stop, don't you understand -- he will kill you -- whatever you might sell me off for is not worth your lives," he tries to get something across but of course they don't understand English. The father says something, but it's not directed at him, and Jojo soon finds a dirty rag shoved into his mouth.

The five of them wind their way through the twist and turn of the streets as Jonathan tries to think. How was he kept alive? Why did Dio either bring him back to life or not kill him outright? Why did Dio put him in the cage? How was Dio aware of the cage's opening? Where is this place and how did they get here? For a delirious moment, he seriously wonders if they are both in Purgatory, playing out the parts of a caricature to Dante. Perhaps he was being judged for causing the deaths of everyone else aboard the ship? And what about Erina -- did she survive? Did she get into the casket and save the orphaned babe? He hopes against hope that his final burst of energy hadn't inadvertently killed his wife.

Being able to breathe would have helped clear his thoughts. But he must make do with the present: he needs to save this family. Sure, they were thieves, and others would say there was no helping them, but no treasure was worth a life, Jonathan was certain of that. After what must have been an hour of walking, they end up in a threadbare shack of a home in the absolute outskirts of the slums. There is the crying of a child and a woman comes out to greet them. A father, mother, and their four children. At some point, the gag is removed from his mouth and although he feels lightheaded and unable to breathe, he pushes forward.

"Please," he gasps, "Please listen to me."

But they cannot understand, no matter how slow he talks or how valiantly he tries to simplify his thoughts. And they're trying too -- they're no doubt curious about how he can survive as just a head -- but try as he might, he cannot make them comprehend.

A great weariness catches up to him then and the last thing he remembers hearing is his own desperate chant of 'run, run, run'.

When he wakes a second time, he is back in the cage but no longer dangling from the window. Instead, as he discovers only after sifting through Dio's memories, he is inside Dio's current residence and he is awake because sunlight is shining on him. Dio is directly before him, blood at the edges of his red eyes and golden hair in a disarray. He is dressed in an absolutely indecent manner too, poorly-fitting pants and no shirt in sight.

It comes as a surprise then, that he can converse with Dio despite his current state. Perhaps it is because he has resigned himself to death already; perhaps the compassion he had felt towards his lifelong rival at the end of both their lives had carried over to this one... regardless of the reason, he feels no real animosity towards the other. And then Dio admits to murdering the family of six without batting an eye and Jojo remembers why they had clashed in the first place. Dio will not tell him the whole story, not if there is something to be gained. But he wants to know it -- wants to know what happened after the sinking of the ship. How they were still alive.

Something responds to that want then, though he does not yet understand how. Purple vines snake out of his arms -- out of Dio's arms, that is -- and they reach into Dio's head. And when Jonathan blinks in surprise, a rush of alien memories flow into him. The past year... the past hundred years...

But when it is Dio before the mirror and Erina's grave reflected back, he cannot bear to watch any longer. And again, without any conscious effort, the connection is terminated from 'want' alone. The vines retract and Jojo bows his head, mourning his wife's passing. It is a small consolation, knowing that he had managed to give her a child in their short time together, and if he were still in posession of a heart he is sure it would have swelled with pride at how she lived out the rest of her life.

His chest hurts though, thinking of how she never remarried, how she was probably looking for him in heaven. And he had wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her, had wanted to make her the happiest woman in the world. She had cried and called him cruel and perhaps, in a sense, he was. Now that Erina is gone, Jonathan is sorely tempted to follow, however possible. But he is a man of his times and he knows that things do not happen without reason. Although Dio was the one to revive him, his own memories reveal he does not know why. Although Jojo never looked to a higher power in life, it is difficult to shrug the current chain of events off as coincidence.

No, he is certain: there is a reason he was brought back to life. Perhaps someone meant for him to stop Dio yet again? But the only thing he has control over are those purple vines -- a Stand, as Madam Enya had called it.

His thoughts are interrupted when the cage door opens and Jonathan needs to keep himself from flinching in the face of Dio's encroaching hand. Instead of the tortures he expected however, the other man simply wipes at his tears. In that uncharacteristic tenderness, Jojo finds himself wondering again if he isn't merely dreaming. Still, he feels some of his vehemence fade away, to be replaced with a softer emotion. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve, a characteristic Dio has reproached him often for. It may set him at a disadvantage at times, Jonathan agrees, but it is how a proper gentleman should behave. So he brushes aside the larger part of his inhibitions, accepting that their fates were still intertwined, for better or worse.

Afterwards, when Dio has dried his own tears, he sets Jonathan back down in the cage. The amount of sunlight there has already lessened and he only manages to stay conscious for a couple moments more.

The peace he had struck with his own conscience regarding Dio ends the next time he wakes. When Jonathan opens his eyes a third time, he immediately feels something wrong. There is no sunlight here, simply an endless row of candles to the left and right of the four-poster bed. Dio is hunched over him, face stretched into a positively gleeful grin, and Jonathan feels his gut churn at the near-luminous red eyes.

With an almost exultant roughness, Dio pulls him into a sitting position.

Jojo screams a wordless scream. Dio's shoulders which are actually Jonathan's shoulders, they are shaking with mirth. The immortal throws his head back, laughing. Jojo runs out of breath soon enough and he desperately tries to scrabble away. The arm about his waist tightens momentarily before Dio pushes him back down.

"Jojo, where are your manners?" Dio asks. There is none of yesterday's nostalgia in his voice. "You should be thanking me for presenting you with such a magnificent gift."

"Dio. You..." stringing words together becomes difficult and his chest -- but it's not his chest -- is wracked with another bout of coughs, "You can't have -- "

"But I did," the other practically sing-songs. "Don't fret so. You know it would have been a bore otherwise."

"Whose body is this?" Jojo chokes out, squeezing his eyes and turning his head the other way.

"How would I know? Do you have any idea how many bugs I had to squash to get to this one? Well, neither do I." Dio's hand snakes forward, grabbing Jonathan's chin and twisting his face back. "Jojo, open your eyes and look at me."

Jonathan steadfastedly does neither.

"Did you honestly want to be a head for the rest of eternity?" Dio asks, laughing further.

This is not right, Jonathan wants to say. Dio, we are already dead. We have no right to encroach on the living. It's good enough reasoning he knows, but the words would fall on deaf ears. Even when they were both alive, even when they were children, Dio never listened to him and they always always always clashed. Where did I go wrong, he finds himself asking, should I have properly avenged Danny?, should I have struck with more conviction at Windknight?

"Do not be so drôle Jojo," Dio drawls as the vines disappear back into his arm. Jojo's eyes snap open in surprise -- when had Dio... when could he... -- "Surprised? Don't be. Of course I can control your Stand. In fact, yours is more obedient than mine!"

Although he knows it to be useless, Jonathan throws a punch. Dio catches it and there's a shine of blue light -- the release of Ripple energy.

"Why do you do this, Dio?" Jojo asks, refusing to wince as his own fist is crushed. "What is there to gain?"

"Don't make this my fault! Don't you dare pin the blame on me!" Dio roars, frustrations from a hundred years prior resurfacing, "It was not me who... I was not the one -- !"

"Who?"

"You died first," Dio spits. As if that is the end of it.

They lapse into a silence interrupted only by Jonathan's repeated attempts to get off the bed. Attached to this new vampiric body, he does not need sunlight to stay awake. In fact the body will disintegrate in the sun, no doubt. But the call of lightness is so strong, almost like the call of blood for vampires. He screams until his throat is hoarse, kicking and punching all the while. Dio laughs and calls his struggles futile and then he makes Jonathan choke on the blood that flows from cut wrist into forced-open mouth. The taste is sickening, but unmistakably familiar.

Chapter Text

After Jojo opens his eyes for a second time, Dio keeps him out of the sunlight for a while. On the logical side, he has already confirmed that his theory was correct and his experiment was subsequently successful. Therefore, he should call it the end of things. He has no doubt Jojo's existence would be a hindrance to his plans. But that is not why he places the head back on the beaudoir.

No, the reason he keeps him there is because he is, to some inadmissable yet impermissable degree, ashamed of having awoken Jonathan in that state. What sort of bond could he pride the two of them in having, when such disparity was in their reality? Here he was, with a body only the gods could have sculpted and a Stand that was dealing damage faster than it could be felt, and then there was Jojo who was just a head with a non-combatative Stand to boot.

Later, when he's asked, he'll pass his actions off as pity.

But now, now that he's feeling them, he knows them well. He wants Jojo to be able to stand on the same level as him. He wants him to know that it was Dio who allowed him to live again. He wants Jojo's gratitude to be directed at him. With no small amount of regret, he notes their reunion would have been more fitting had he already prepared a second body, but there is little use in dwelling on regrets. So instead, he wraps the head up, places it in the safe at the bottom of the bed, and takes to the city. He's skipped meals for nearly a week, he realizes, and the power of his Stand has weakened as a result. But food is never far from reach and even exultant, he will not be outpaced.

Although he has previously targeted young women -- because their blood was especially sweet and they rarely put up a fight -- he turns his attentions instead to men with a build similar to himself. Some of them remind Dio of Jojo: they are married, they are taken, they are very much in love. For whatever reason, they vehemently decline his propositions. It is the equivalent of a bread loaf not wanting to be eaten; Dio does not give them a say in the matter. After he's killed them, he carefully beheads them. It is only after the act of beheading that he can imagine Jonathan's head atop the body.

The skin of the first man is too dark; the second one is too pale. There is the unsightly markings of pox on the third while the fourth one has a venereal disease. Options five and six are too short and too wide respectively. The seventh man chooses suicide and the body does not survive his fall. There is an element of very real fear in the seventh and eighth choices, with the eighth man screaming out in his native language -- something along the lines of 'meujman apelle lyon'. The phrase is nonsensical but it sticks in his mind. Only when he's started conversing with the locals does he match meaning to phrase. Mjm'e Nablywn, the Napoleon Complex Killer.

A complex? Certainly not. But a preference? Perhaps.

It was not out of necessity, certainly. Jonathan likely would not mind if his new body were a couple centimeters shorter, perhaps even half a meter shorter. But Dio will not have it, will not have his first present be an imperfect one. Especially not when Jonathan has given him the best gift of them all.

So he continues searching through the night, not bothering to change his modus operandi of draining the blood, discarding the head, and stealing away the body. By the time Enya the hag (as he has taken to calling her in his mind) finds him again, the lower floors of the dwelling reek of inexact duplicates. She tells him that various other Stand users have been assembled and that a more suitable place has been found for him. He tells her they can wait a week. In the final couple nights in Cairo, he looks around for more men, but there are none to be found. Perhaps they have fled, following the news. The foreigners who come to this city have money enough, after all. He takes the head out of its safe and follows Enya into a horseless carriage.

The car is driven by one of her slaves, dirt and dust reanimated to mirror the bleakest bits of human life. He sits in the back, curtly closing the door after him, and watches the lights of the city flicker into obscurity. Jonathan's head remains in his lap. At times like this, he wonders if it wouldn't just be quicker to keep a woman and have her child's body become Jonathan's own. But twenty years is too long to wait. He believes this still: that the world has people enough.

They putter on, being the only travelers and source of light on the empty sandshorn roads. It will be a couple hours before daylight, Dio knows. Enya is still human; she can survive in the sun. In the back of his mind, he has already outlined the optimal plan of attack if the drive goes on for more than three hours: have The World first kill the driver and then the old woman, then collapse the car onto itself to blot out the light. It will give him enough shade before heading back to Cairo the next night. He does not get the opportunity however, because the car slows to a halt soon enough. Another slave of dust greets them, opening his door and then Enya's.

The mansion Enya has found him is a stone's throw away from a bend in the river. From first glance, its defensive capabilities are impressive. The windows have all been pre-emptively sealed and there is a magnificent stretch of catacombs in the tombs beneath. Like a specter, she follows him through his tour of the house, halting only when he reaches for the bedroom door.

"Does it please you, Lord Dio?" she asks.

Praise me, Dio hears.

"It is satisfactory," he finds himself replying. She bows her head low before scurrying off again.

Despite the embargo resulting from the background political tensions, there are still excavations going on. The native people are paid pennies to comb the sand and dirt for fragments of a language which might as well have been their own. He never sees them working however, for they work from dawn to dusk, but the floodlights left on during the night attract his attention. Would Jonathan have ended up like this, if Dio had left him alone? Would he have brought his wife to some land so far away from home? Would he have sat in the shade and pondered over ancient philosophies while other people fainted from heat exhaustion, looking for his whims?

They are useless questions of course. Their destinies had been intertwined from their first meeting; Jonathan never had a chance to be an archaeologist.

The contemplative silence is interrupted by the tell-tale step of shoes over sand.

"M'ne?" a man asks, shining a flashlight in Dio's direction. Instinctively, Dio bares his fangs at the light before his eyes adjust and his expression falls slack. The man before him is an archaeologist, yes, but he is also --

His thoughts are interrupted with a slew of questions. He recognizes Italian and French (the man has enough manners to tilt his flashlight at a more amenable angle) before giving up and reverting to fast-paced German.

Dio does not understand a word and makes no pretense of it. To an extent, he is still in awe.

"You will be perfect," are the last words the archaeologist hears.

After he's drained the man's blood and removed that much-too-blond head, he shoulders the body and flits back to the mansion on the riverbend's edge. His heart is pounding and his breaths are shallow. It is almost as if he too is one of Enya the hag's puppets dancing to the tune of life. As if unwrapping a present, he strips the corpse bare while The World lights some dozen odd candles to aid the examination. The skin is of a similar pigment and there are no marks of disease. Save for the head, everything else is where it should be -- for a man of papers, he has a good deal of bulk. But then, Jonathan had had the build of a wrestler. Turning the corpse over, his gaze catches on a single blemish, the sign of a patch of new skin, right at the base of his stomach. Some sort of sinking dread wells up in him and he wonders if he really is just a puppet on a string.

The idea of even this unlucky archaeologist being some lever on the still-incomprehensible machine known as 'fate' irks him. He has always considered himself the end-all to his own destiny; that it might be otherwise is unacceptable. Would it be fate for him to revive Jonathan? Was fate the reason he searched for a perfect body for so long? And then, was it fate that led him to this place, where the perfect body happened to be residing?

This much is certain: he should not revive Jonathan a third time, much less give him a body.

But of this, he is even more certain: he wants nothing more.

Later, when he's counting back the days and running the numbers through his head, he'll realize that it was Jonathan's birthday. Just another odd coincidence to add to the pile. Neither of them knew it then; had he known then, Dio would not have ignored it. At the present, he cuts his wrist and presses the wound to the neck before taking the head from the nightstand and aligning it. His hands are trembling, but he will not have anything below faultless. Finally, he gets the angling right and presses down, willing the vampiric blood to wake first the body and then the head.

Jonathan is so bewildered it is almost amusing. They have a stilted bit of conversation before he lies back down. Dio tests out the other man's Stand then and is pleased to discover it more obedient than both his own body and Stand. Looking through Jonathan's thoughts is another new facet: Jonathan, who does not even realize months have passed. No, he is still caught in the wispy grays of yesteryear, wondering about his father and dog and wife.

After Jonathan's limbs are firmly bound together and Dio is curled against the armchair in the corner, he finds himself thinking back to their shared fates.

His early youth had been spent with his mother telling him to do good deeds so he could ascend to Heaven. His early adulthood had featured a fortune-telling compliments of the oriental apothecary: that someone with his birthmark would surely go on to achieve great things. Dio can admit this much to himself: that he feels equal amounts of distaste and intrigue towards both outlooks. The idea of carving your own path for a delayed reward would be infuriating if Heaven were not eternal. Likewise, being set on a particular road with no chance of deviation would grow tiring fast.

He wants both. He wants neither.

At this point, Jonathan has managed to work his way to the edge of the bed, throwing himself off of it.

Dio sighs, casting a glance at the barred window. The dawn would be breaking soon. He has The World keep the other from moving further before he himself gets up and drags Jonathan back onto the bed. Perhaps it would have been better to keep him as a head. Now there was a thought -- that would have Fate gnawing at their teeth.

Their lives are still a story, and their roles are still set in stone. Jonathan is the hero and Dio is the villain. What a farce the story would have been at any other turn! Whether it was a lover's suicide at the bottom of the sea, the singular triumph of the villain, or the helpless end of the hero, trapped as a talking accessory, none of those ends are satisfying to him.

What do you want? Enya the hag had asked him. Already, she is gathering accomplices; already, he can feel their Stands pooling in the lower levels of the mansion.

He does not want to die, therefore he will live forever. He does not want to listen to anyone else, therefore he will rule all. He does not want to be one-half of a whole, therefore he will keep Jonathan around. But living forever means that he will never be rewarded with Heaven, so he must carve out a Heaven for himself. If it is so good that most of humanity wishes to go there -- even after a century -- then he must see it for himself. And he will not play by the rules of Fate.

"Jojo," he addresses suddenly, almost conversationally, "How would you like to go visit New York?"

"New York?" Jonathan dumbly repeats.

"Yes. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Absentmindedly, Dio combs through Jonathan's hair.

"...Why would I want to go to New York?"

"Because, you simpleton," Dio grates, "It's where your dear Erina is buried."

Despite the ropes, Jojo starts violently.

"Dio, don't you dare revive her!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he truthfully replies. "Besides, the age difference is now quite severe isn't it? I wonder, even if you meet her in heaven... would you still be able to love her?"

He had planned for the question to strike a nerve. Instead, Jojo laughs before looking at him in a positively pitying manner.

"Oh Dio," he says, compassion mixed with mirth at the corners of his eyes, "I can't believe you've gone this long without understanding love."

"Love is useless," Dio spits.

Jonathan laughs again before taking a deep breath. There's another blue burst of Ripple energy -- so, Dio thinks, the previous instance had not been a fluke -- and then his bonds are no more. Dio looks at him warily from the corner of his vision. He can overpower the other easily and even if Jojo bests him and somehow manages to runs outside, Dio will pick him up at night. The loss of the body will be a hindrance, but he is sure there will be more options in the west. But instead of fighting or fleeing, Jonathan simply sits up and stretches, as if he's just begun to appreciate Dio's gift.

And it is a fine gift, Dio has made certain of that. How the muscles stretch, how the skin glows, how one can barely see the join line between Jonathan and the unknown archaeologist -- a stark contrast to Dio's own body. The lack of the Joestar is jarring, but then with the introduction of tattoos...

"Yes," Jojo suddenly says, taking Dio out of his stupor.

Dio glances up, maintaining a neutral expression.

"I want to see New York," Jonathan reiterates.

Dio feels a grin split his face. He had planned on dragging Jonathan kicking and screaming, but to have him come of his own volition was even better. He will snub out Fate's plans for them by destroying the roles of both hero and villain. He can already see it: himself in the future with Jonathan at his side as the most devoted lapdop, and oh, it is a glorious image.

"Perfect," he replies. "We leave tomorrow night."

Chapter Text

Jonathan Joestar leaps over the gate of the New York Marble Cemetery with ease, running a couple meters further before flicking on his flashlight. A quick shine reveals there to be no activity, so he scrounges up the cemetery map and angles the light this way and that.

Dio had not tagged along, something Jonathan is eternally grateful for. Although he still cannot shake the second-hand guilt from the other's late night activities, he does not want the temptation of reanimation to be near him. For a moment, he has a terrible vision of himself begging on hands and knees. Pride be damned, if he could have a second shot at making her happy, then he would gladly... but no. Erina is not suited to a life of darkness. If heaven was as glorious as the church leaders proclaimed, then she would be looking down at him from there.

Demons momentarily assuaged, he focuses on the task at-hand: finding the right gravestone. Despite being good with maps and meticulously counting his steps (assuming one stride was a meter), it takes him nearly an hour to reach the gravestone. And when he does, he nearly drops the flashlight in surprise, so shocking is it to see the name of his wife etched on stone. He flicks off the light and gets on his knees then, tracing her name with his fingertips.

Erina Joestar, the inscription reads, 1868-1950. Beloved teacher, nurse, mother, grandmother, and wife. May she enjoy eternity, reunited with her husband at last.

He takes a deep breath, biting down on his bottom lip. He will not cry. Not before her, not like this. He has already come to terms with her death, he reminds himself. And she must have come to terms with his death as well. He's had nearly a week to acclimate to the lost time. But of course there is nothing to acclimate to in the first place.

She comes to him then, as he remembered seeing her on their wedding day. Instead of the beautiful white dress and train, she is wearing a plain pleated frock and skirt. The necklace he had gotten her as an engagement gift still rests around her neck and her smile is as soft and sweet as he remembers it. Though this is a dream and nothing more oh how he aches to see her like this -- thinking of all the maybe's and should-have's that could never have been.

He murmurs a soft prayer, and then she speaks. Or rather, as was her nature, she pats his hand and speaks thanks in-turn and just like that, the words flow out of his mouth. Without thinking, he talks about their harrowing journey from Cairo to New York -- how twelve to fourteen hours on a plane would have been fatal for both of them, so Dio arranged for them to have a stop-over in London. He initially wants to skim over his embarrassing reaction to flying, but the Erina of imagination knows him too well. So he confesses to having desperately clung at first to the flight attendant and to then Dio before curling up in a wretched little ball on the edge of his extremely inadequate seat. How he had refused to look out the window or even at the moving pictures on the walls of the aerodynamic vessel. How Dio had managed to convince him to try some of the food, only for him to vomit it up within an hour.

The ordeal ends with him hobbling out of the machine six hours later, leaping down the landing stairs and throwing himself against the ground. Dio had been a couple steps behind him, shoulders shaking with mirth. He must have taken pity on him then, announcing that they would be staying in London longer than initially planned. Perhaps it was compassion, but Jojo thinks there must have been some lingering curiosity as well. He suspects it because he feels it as well, the prodding question of 'how much has home changed?".

They check into a hotel for three nights and from the start, Jojo cannot help noticing the changes. The tender is different, as are the accents. Oftentimes, his countrymen will say things that he does not understand. When he blinks slowly and asks politely for a repetition, they ask if he looking for trouble. Dio gives him a key to the room before taking his leave. Jojo does not ask what the other is up to. Later, his descendents will ask him why he didn't use London as an opportunity to escape. He'll laugh then, as he is laughing now, because they know the answer already. There are some things one cannot run away from.

Erina smiles, says something soothing or another. Perhaps she pets his hair; he had always liked it when she did that. Either way, he continues his narration.

The London Underground has changed much. Well, he had never been on it while he was alive, so perhaps it has not changed at all. But he does not remember trains moving so quickly, or even this many people being in the city. On the second night, he determines to go to the British Museum. The collections which had fascinated him as a student must still be there, he thinks. But of course it has changed too, so much so that he walks past it two or three times. The front façade has been changed completely, as have the nearby manors. The spacious square he spent many afternoons in, flitting from one fascinating work to the next, that patch of green has been cut further, cornered in on all sides by new apartment buildings.

Right when he's located the Mesoamerican secton of yore, a voice announces across all the rooms that the museum will be closing in fifteen minutes. Frantically, he searches for the tablet detailing a series of unsuccessful ritual sacrifices, the one that he had thought preceded the stone mask. Fifteen minutes pass and he is unable to locate it. Afterwards, when he manages to ask a curator, they explain that with the arrival of new findings, the older less popular artifacts were likely to be kept in storage. Of course, the old man adds, if Jonathan were a researcher affiliated with any of the universities, he would be allowed access and if not, could he please fill out such-and-such form to be put on the waiting list.

The museum has an earlier closing time than he remembers. But then, perhaps that difference can be attributed to his role as 'visitor' rather than 'researcher'. But the changes in the streets, in London itself, these are things he cannot rationalize. The streets are far far wider than they were before, and much better lit. They are also filled with cars and people with manors that touch the sky. Impossible behemoths of glass and hope, the lights from the signs and streetposts glint off of them. The River Thames is more lively as well and though he cannot be certain in the dark, he does not remember so many bridges criss-crossing over its way.

Somehow or another, he finds his way back to the hotel room. He falls to the bed and stays there, unmoving. When Dio stumbles in minutes before dawn, drawing the drapes and smelling of murder, Jonathan does not turn to greet him.

Perhaps if London -- if England -- were more similar to the London of his memories, the temptation to flee would have been stronger. But as it is, he feels like Rip van Winkle: a stranger in his own homeland. Was this why Erina had taken their grandson and left? Or was it because she couldn't stand losing her son as well as her husband? Or was it something else entirely? Jonathan tries to ask the Erina of his imagination, but of course she cannot give a believable response.

On their final night in London, he admits to having no further plans. Against his better judgement, he lets Dio take him to a dancing house -- a nightclub, as the terminology went. Underneath the neon lights and smoke, he watches young men and women press far against one another far too close for comfort. He closes his eyes and looks away, remembering a time when the open twining of arms during dances like the waltz had been lauded as scandalous. Truly, his values were relics of the past -- as alien to the present as the ancient peoples he studied had been to himself. A woman with bright pink hair pulls on his arm, trying to entice him to the dance floor. He declines but it is lost in the loud music and he needs to wrench his face out of her grasp soon enough. When he sees Dio pull a woman into the shadows, his painted-green lips curled into a smirk, Jojo follows him.

He thinks he is a preventing a murder. Perhaps he had, perhaps he could have. Jonathan does not know. He does not stay long enough to find out. The woman had been an especially lithe man, his shirt completely ripped away. Dio looks up, not at all ashamed, and Jonathan quickly backs away. He sprints away from the underground lair, not stopping until he's arrived back at the hotel. It does not come as a surprise that Dio has adapted to this new world with little difficulty. Dio, with his bright fabrics and brighter paints. Dio, with laquered nails and outlined eyes and depraved smile, strutting about in Jonathan's body. Using Jonathan's body in that manner.

The thought of begotten children makes him sick to his stomach.

When Dio returns with a swagger in his step, Jonathan is still crouched over the toilet. Jojo launched himself at the other man then, in a flurry of punches and accusations. How intercourse should be placed on a higher pedestal; how Dio shouldn't be leading strangers on; how much he would make Dio anguish if he didn't take responsibility for any subsequent children. Dio blocks his punches and sidesteps his accusations, easily reversing a Ripple burst with one of his own. Well, one of Jonathan's body's own. Then he drags Jonathan back to the nearest bed, slitting his wrist again. When Jonathan finishes drinking, Dio begins to laugh.

An especially infuriating conversation takes place then, with Dio pressing Jonathan into the bed. He traces his wildly-colored nails down Jonathan's cheeks, smiling so the other man can see his incisors. It is an intimidation tactic, yes, but it also a prelude to debate. He explains how the morals of this time are closer to his own, how more people -- both men and women -- are looking for a good fuck. How he was always like this and yes, perhaps he would never understand love, but at least he wouldn't be like Jojo, forever thinking pleasure to be a sin. Dio's closing remark stings -- a rhetorical question on how Erina couldn't possibly have been satisfied on her wedding night.

They depart for New York the next afternoon. Dio had managed to acquire some sleeping pills which kept Jonathan unconscious for most of the nine hour flight. They check into another hotel in New York, again for three nights, before Jonathan makes plans to visit the cemetery.

"Our wedding night was like a dream come true for me," he murmurs, eyes fluttering closed yet again as he leans forward to kiss the stone. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting still, but I hope you're happy with our son in heaven. Hopefully your parents will keep you company. Maybe Danny and Speedwagon too."

He desperately rubs at the tears running down his face.

"I'm sorry Erina. I'm sorry you're seeing me like this. You made me the happiest man in the world, there was nothing I would not do for you. When we meet again in heaven, I will make it up to you, I promise. I love you, and I always will. But I cannot leave Dio to his own devices. This world may be different from what I remember and there may be no one else who remembers me, but it is the still our world and our grandchildren's world, and I believe I was brought back for a purpose."

Slowly, he opens his eyes. Then he stands up and flicks on the flashlight.

When he goes back, Dio is already in the hotel room, lounging against the bay window. He reeks of sweat, sex, and blood -- already done with hunting no doubt. Jonathan collapses against the bed, giving neither greeting nor reiteration. It does not matter; Dio would not have listened. Lost in their own thoughts and wrapped around their own goals, the pull of destiny makes the distance between bed and window seem like inches -- and then miles.

Chapter Text

Jonathan's is a special existence to him. Once, he had thought the specialness was exclusive to his abilities, but it's become apparent that a larger current flows beneath that. Who else can inspire equal parts fury and exasperation in Dio? Who else can tip his long-trained temper past the edge? It is Jojo, and even though his being alive is a liability, Dio still wants the other at his feet. The fiasco on the airplane had brought back memories of their university days, when they had regularly exchanged friendly blows. When Jonathan could ask Dio for help on coursework and Dio would likely agree -- even though he was spending time enough on his own grades.

Everyone had called them the closest of friends, both on the rugby field and off. It was an act Dio had taken great pains to keep up and he had thought the Joestar heir completely fooled. But it was Jonathan who ended up fooling him. Was that when the first stage of reassessment had begun? No, no, that must have happened years before. When Jojo had bested him in a fistfight... when he had forced Dio to reveal his hidden switchblade... that was when he realized there was more to Jonathan than his simpleton demeanor let on. He does not remember his thought process then, only that he needed revenge.

But what had caused him to kill the dog instead of the boy? And what had induced him to play the foil to Jojo's light in an eight-year-long farce of friendship?

He does not know about then, but he does know about now. Now that he's experienced Jonathan's potential first-hand -- now that he's still reaping the benefits of the other man's efforts -- he wants Jonathan to be on his side. More than a minion, he wants a dedicated right-hand man. Yes, Jonathan would be a most valuable ally... if only he could understand that the world would be better under Dio's control. And so Dio does his best to go through the actions of friendship yet again: closing the shutters of the airplane window, holding his bangs back while vomiting, and waking him up when the plane finally landed.

Unlike Jonathan, he's read up on the times, so the changes in London are not as much of a shock. When he takes Jonathan to an especially infamous nightclub -- as friends are wont to do -- he makes sure to bribe a fetching enough woman to chat him up. Jojo rejects her in favor of following Dio and his partner-come-victim to the backroom and for a moment, Dio seriously thinks the other will finally start drinking blood on his own. A premature assumption of course; Jojo turns around and no doubt sprints back to the hotel when he makes sense of the scene.

Dio makes sure to mirror Jojo's gaze from the previous night -- patronizing and pitying, all wrapped into one -- when the other man is reciting the virtues of affection and fidelity. Still, Jonathan's outburst reveals a weakness that Dio will make sure to exploit later on: Jojo does not consider the current world to be 'his' world. Perhaps Dio will convince him that it will be closer to the world of yore under his control...? Either way, he makes sure to stop by a pharmacist before returning to the hotel. Jonathan's new body is still that of a vampire; a double dose of horse tranquilizers just barely knocks him out for the second leg of the flight.

Logically, he could explain his current situation as simple caution: he didn't want Jonathan getting lost in New York or purposely staying out until sunrise. But it is not a precaution he bothered taking in London, where there were just as many opportunities. No, caution is not why he is lounging on the uppermost branches of a tree one block away from Jonathan's wife's tombstone. He does not dwell on it, activating Jonathan's Stand and having it project on his pocket mirror.

For the longest time, Jonathan simply sits in front of the tombstone in absolute darkness.

No sound, no movement, nothing.

His unfounded fear that Jonathan might have been incapacitated somehow springs to life and he's on the brink of sending The World to investigate. But the cemetery is out of range which means he'll need to get closer...

His plans are interrupted when Jonathan breaks the silence. He talks of the happiness he felt during those handful of blissful married days, gives his characteristically noble reason for choosing to remain alive, and admits that he still considers the current time and place to be 'his' world. A feeling like ice runs through Dio's veins when he hears the series of declarations. Right as Jonathan is leaning in for a doubtlessly chaste kiss, he retracts the Stand, tossing the mirror down. It lands with a not-at-all satisfying shatter and he leaps from one skyscraper to the next, arriving back in the hotel well before Jonathan. He opts for a shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the grawing coldness.

It infuriates him that Jonathan is determined to oppose his plans, without even knowing what they entail. That Jonathan is only staying with him because he "cannot leave Dio to his own devices". That Jonathan is still keeping up the act of camaraderie and yet again, Dio is being fooled.

The shower does not help, and he ends up lounging against the window.

After some time, he sees Jonathan on the ground floor, flashlight pocketed and feet dragging. Dio bristles at the thought of his own ambitions being a chore in Jojo's eyes. And then he is stumbling through the hotel room door and falling onto his bed. With effort, Dio refrains from glancing over. It is only when the golden yellow of the sunrise is shining from the edges of the glass-and-steel-covered horizon that he closes the curtains and goes to sleep.

Jojo is making a fool of him again and again he is not aware of it. They could drag this humorless play on for all eternity. But he refuses. Jojo must submit to him, Dio -- and if not the man, then his body and soul. He will deprive Jojo of blood, he concludes, and perhaps then the other will learn some gratitude.

Dio ends up breaking his resolution in a day.

Because his nerves are on edge, he decides that they should go to another nightclub. Although Jojo wants to pay another visit to his dear Erina, Dio pushes him forward and the other does not protest much. When he's on the dance floor, glowing nails, luminescent lipstick, and sharp sharp teeth -- with Jojo watching warily from another corner -- he feels alive. Exultant. Men and women both flock to him and he naturally takes his pick of the litter. With this crowd and in this lighting, he could probably get away with draining their blood on the dance floor. He is breaking the kiss, about to touch the other man's pulse, when he catches a crowd gather in the opposite side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"He just passed out!"

Dio's up on his feet in seconds, ignoring the protests of his partner. He shoves the lesser beings aside and finds Jonathan sprawled out, unconscious, on the floor. Someone's hand is pressed against his mouth.

"He's not breathing!" they declare.

"I'll handle it," Dio cuts in, elbowing his way to the center and stooping down to heave the other man up.

"Hey man, you should wait for the paramedics!"

"He was just sitting by himself -- "

"Didn't even drink anything -- "

"I'm his brother," Dio snaps, summoning The World to facilitate their exit.

"You don't look like -- " another passerby manages to get out before they are thrown behind the counter.

"No," Dio agrees, evening out the weight distribution upon exiting the nightclub, "We don't." He gives some believable excuses and greetings to the concerned concierge staff -- too much to drink, not enough to eat, no we'll be fine on our own, thank you very much -- before making his way back to their room. He sets Jojo on the bed and slits his own wrist without hesitation. On the way back, his mind had been racing over the reasons. He himself could go for two weeks without drinking blood, to say nothing of the hundred years, but perhaps Jojo had a lower threshold because his body was a second generation vampire.

His blood, at least, is enough for Jojo to wake. His eyes flutter open and he blinks groggily. Dio lets his blood for a while longer before Jonathan starts choking. He towers over Jojo, impassively regarding the coughing fit. Eventually, it subsides and Jojo closes his eyes. His lips move, though no sound comes out. Although it's a useless gesture, Dio leans in. Surprise slows his reflexes -- and again, The World does not intervene -- enough so that Jonathan can grab his neck, pressing his thumb right over the still-red join spot.

"Jojo," Dio growls, "what are you doing?"

Jojo's grip is loose and his eyes are more closed than open.

And then Dio realizes: this is the first time someone is touching him. It might be the very edge of the divide, but it is still the first foreign touch. That it is Jojo sends a confounding shiver through his spine, and he almost misses Jojo's next words. Almost.

"As I thought," he whispers, hand dropping to his side, "You are breathing for me."

"...What?"

"The Ripple energy," he explains, explaining nothing. His voice continues, atypically small, "It needs sunlight."

"No. Have you forgotten? You're a vampire now. And you just fainted from blood deprivation. I should not have made you go without it for so long. It's making you delirious." His own explanations sounds hollow to him.

"No," Jojo says, shaking his head, "But you won't be able to -- " he cuts himself off then, eyes closing and whole body going limp.

"Jojo," Dio calls, shaking him a couple times. There is no response. He shakes harder, cuts himself deeper, but still, nothing. Finally, he thinks back to what the other had said. Won't be able to what, exactly? Be a vampire? Keep Jonathan alive? Keep him from being delirious? But no, Jonathan was not delirious. If anything, he sounded tired and short of breath. What had he meant by Dio breathing for him?

Admittedly, breathing is still second nature for him -- for this body. As soon as he had gotten out of his casket, he had resumed breathing. Experimentally, he inhales a couple times before glancing back down. Jonathan gives no response.

His problem is this: he knows exactly what Jonathan had meant. For some reason, the head and body were still undeniably connected, to the point where some of Dio's air was being transferred to the other. And for likely the same reason, the air which had allowed them both to harness the Ripple energy was soon becoming insufficient. Like Jojo had said, Dio finds himself now unable to call upon the Ripple energy. Letting the body take over breathing changes nothing. Time ticks by as he runs through his options.

Sunlight. His primary vulnerability.

Again, logic dictates that he disregard this new piece of information. Even without his vampiric powers, his Stand was more than enough. The Ripple was useful without question, but the only time it proved to be irreplaceable was during his confinement. He does not plan for a repeat performance. Therefore, there is no need for the Ripple energy.

Logical, and yet...

He stands up and moves away from Jojo, eyes scanning the room. The clock reads 4:45AM which means a little over half an hour until sunrise. He calls room service, asking if they might be able to procure him a wide-brimmed sunhat. They tell him in the polite and reassuring tone used exclusively for drunk patrons that the stores will not open for five hours but if he still wants one then, they will be happy to purchase one for him. Dio hangs up then, sweeping his gaze across the room's admitted expanse.

The curtains were thick. They were the type that blotted out all sunlight. He had specifically requested them upon booking the penthouse suite. But if he pulled them off, they would need to change rooms once he was done. No, the curtains would have to stay.

Muttering curses, he yanks a lampshade off and gets to work.

Jonathan Joestar wakes from a pleasant enough slumber to an impossible scene.

His immediate reaction is to double over laughing.

"Don't you dare move!" Dio positively shrieks from inside his newest contraption, "You have no idea how difficult it was getting all of your body covered!"

Looking down, Jonathan finds that he is indeed heaped with blankets, towels, and pillows, so much so that there is no chance of the sunlight (now streaming in from the newly opened curtains) touching him. So he chuckles quietly but obediently lies back down.

Dio crosses his arms, turning to face the sun once more. The body beneath him is practically glowing with vitality. It pains him to admit it but even as a vampire, he can feel the effect of sunlight on the body of a Ripple user.

"Dio," Jojo starts.

"What?"

"Why did it have to be a lampshade?"

"Because even in New York, there are no sunhats to be found at five in the morning." Dio's calm response is made all the more impressive by how his fingernails were currently digging into his arms.

"I see," Jonathan says, stifling laughter. "Well -- how does it feel?"

"Alright."

"I meant the sun."

"That too," the other admits. "And what about you?" he adds.

"What about me?"

"Are you sufficiently awake?"

"No idea," he shrugs. "Could you pull the left drape back further, please?"

"Why?"

"I want some light too."

Instead of complying, Dio pushes the other's bed closer to the window.

"How does that feel?"

"Really good," Jojo replies, blinking rapidly from the direct light.

"Don't move," Dio repeats as he ever so slowly eases onto the bed. He crosses his legs and gently lifts Jonathan's head into his lap. Then he angles his hand so that it casts a shadow over the other's line of sight. Jonathan's breaths brush the edge of his palm; he does his best to ignore them.

"This feels familiar," Jonathan remarks.

"Does it?"

"Mmm. I think we did this after rugby matches sometimes."

"Only after losing."

"Really? We didn't lose often."

"Just once."

"Some things never change..." Jojo laughs. Then he looks up at Dio, or rather at the lampshade covering Dio's face, before averting his eyes.

"Laugh if you must," Dio sighs, "But you look ridiculous too."

"It's not that. Just..." he trails off, cheeking coloring.

"What?"

"Could you put on a shirt next time? I know what you're going to say, but it still feels indecent."

Taking advantage of the situation, he flicks Jonathan's nose.

"Ow!"

Dio chuckles, returning his hand to its previous angle.

"What?"

"Nothing much. I was just observing the closing of curtains."

"Closing...?" Jojo echoes. "But the curtains are still open."

"I see you're as impervious to metaphors as ever."

"What curtains?"

It is a liability, he agrees: this sudden familiarity -- one part renewal one part completely new. It's the warmth of the sunlight, it's the swell of Ripple energy, it's the sight of people bustling twenty stories below. It's the weight of Jojo's head in his lap. It fills the chasm with yet another ache and he finds he cannot fight it.

Chapter Text

He doesn't remember how long they stay in the sun, only that at some point Dio must have closed the curtains and taken off the lampshade. He's long asleep at that point and when he wakes in the evening with his bed moved back to its proper place, not even the pile of blankets and pillows remain. But the strength the sunlight gave is still there and even with this vampiric body, he can feel the ebb and flow of the Ripple. He looks around the room and sees Dio lounging on the chaise, sipping a glass of wine while reading Kaufmann's Time is an Artist. Dio makes no move to acknowledge Jojo, even as he's getting out of the bed. His clothes are especially crumpled after last night's fiasco so he looks around for an iron to even out his dress shirt and pants.

"What are you doing?" Dio finally asks.

"I'm boiling water."

"For what?"

"To heat the iron."

"You realize that the iron is an electrical one, right?" Dio asks, and then, at Jonathan's blank stare, he opens his wallet and pulls out a swathe of bills, "Here. Just take this and buy yourself a new suit. The currency is different from what you're used to, but I'm sure you can figure it out."

Jonathan's brows furrow as he looks from the proffered money to the kettle and back to Dio.

"What are you waiting for?" Dio prompts, "Take the money."

"I didn't earn it."

"So? You never had a problem accepting allowances from your father." The words slip through Dio's mouth and he cannot take them back. Jonathan, surprisingly enough, does not gasp -- does not even start a fight. But he does give a little stagger, biting his bottom lip and turning his back on Dio.

A heavy silence settles in the suite then, though it is quickly broken by first the whistle of the kettle and then the subsequent crash of both kettle and iron as Jonathan quickly discovered there was no hole to pour the boiling water into. A small burst of energy is enough to deflect the water from himself, but he forgets to keep it from touching the iron. It ends with him having to mop up the counter, iron, and floor, with Dio watching over the edges of his book. And at the end of it, the wrinkles in Jonathan's suit are still there.

He stares at the iron for a while then, as if instructions might magically appear.

Dio sighs and loudly turns a page. Jonathan ignores him.

"You're supposed to plug the rope attached to the iron into the hole in the wall," he eventually says. Jonathan continues to ignore him.

He is angry and he wants out and away. But the idea of going outside in a crumpled suit goes against years of etiquette. So he takes the iron to the ironing table in the entryway closet and takes off both top and bottom. Then he closes his eyes and concentrates. It's been a long time, but the Ripple is still second nature: slowly but surely, his energy is transferred to the iron. It's steaming within seconds and he quickly irons out the edges.

Dio is watching him, he knows. He can see him in the corner of his vision -- as he's straightening out his collar, as he's tightening his belt, as he's slipping the blazer back on. But Jonathan is still simmering ire and tightly-wound muscles, so he keeps quiet.

"My, Jojo," Dio drawls, right as the other is opening the door, "I didn't know you were so vain. Are you seeing someone tonight?"

With effort, Jojo unclenches his fists.

"Did you... did you feel anything then?"

"I did not mean to kill your father," Dio replies, as if they were discussing something mundane, "But you are a fool to think I would regret it."

Jojo slams the door and dashes into the conveniently-open elevator. The early-evening air is still warm from the long-set sun but breathing it in does not clear his head. So he walks. Paces, really. It comes as no surprise that his feet lead him to Erina's cemetery (as he has taken to thinking of it as), but he is surprised to find the gates still open. So he walks in, nodding politely at the aged front guard before retracing his steps.

As with before, he sits himself down before the grave, closing his eyes in remembrance.

This time however, he is interrupted within minutes by a high-powered burst of energy. His eyes snap open after narrowly dodging it and he jumps to his feet.

"What the -- " he starts, only to be forced to deflect another shot.

"I guess it's true what they say," his pursuer declares. "That the criminal returns to the scene of the crime."

"Criminal?" Jonathan repeats, eyes widening. The other man looks to be in his early thirtees, well-built and dressed in a suit. He looks familiar... and yet not. He also does not give Jonathan enough time to ponder his sense of déjà vu, taking the offensive with a series of Zoom Punches. Jojo leaps back, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, and powers up his own Overdrive.

"Let me guess," his assailant starts, "Your next line will be, 'so you know how to use the Ripple'."

"So you know how to use the Ripple," Jonathan muses, and then catches himself, "Hey, wait -- !" His response is cut short by a pair of weighted balls zooming in, practically glowing with energy.

"And after that, you'll say, 'You're making a mistake'."

"But you are making a mistake!" Jonathan insists, batting aside the second volley and launching a basic Ripple Overdrive. It connects full-on when paired with his Zoom Punch and he sends the other man flying into a tree. "I don't know you."

"Heh. Not bad, not bad," he stands up, brushing himself off, "Did you steal those techniques too?"

"Steal? But I -- "

"But too bad for you, because you didn't notice my Clacker Boomerang!" and just like that, both pairs of weights come flying back towards Jonathan, pushing him up against a different tree.

"Wait a -- " Jonathan is interrupted again by the other man leaping forward to face him head-on, except this time, there's a swirl of energy positioned right above Jonathan's chest.

"It's been a hundred years," the other declares -- and suddenly, Jonathan realizes where he had seen the other, "But in the name of Granny Erina and Uncle Speedwagon, you die now!"

"Joseph!" he blurts out, pulling his arms out of the clackers' hold to wrap the other in a hug.

"What?!" Joseph panics, flailing wildly, "Don't think your tricks will -- "

"I'm not Dio, I'm Jonathan," Jonathan says, quickly releasing the other.

Joseph's brows furrow and his jaw drops.

"Oh my God!" he gasps, pointing, "Grandpa?!"

"...Wow that sounds bizarre."

"But... you... I heard..." Joseph gets his priorities straight, dispelling the energy in favor of picking Jonathan up by the lapels. "You better have a good excuse for why you stayed away for all these years! Grandma Erina was still waiting for you -- hell, she's probably waiting for you in heaven now!"

Jojo's eyes widen and he reels back as if struck. His gaze darts wildly from his newly-encountered grandson to his wife's grave. Family. He still has family. People still remember him.

"Excuse me sirs," the entrance guard interjects, "But the cemetery is closing now."

"Oh! Is it that late already?" Joseph glances at his wristwatch and confirms that yes, it is that late. He clasps an arm over Jonathan's shoulders, "Sorry to be so disrespectful Gramps. Your eyes look like you've got a story to tell, so I'll call Suzie -- ah, that's my wife -- up and let her know to have an extra seat for dinner." He pauses, turning his head, "You will join us for dinner, right?"

"I'd love to," Jonathan says, knees still weak.

Joseph calls his wife from a payphone and excitedly gives the okay before dragging Jonathan into a brightly-colored automobile. The drive home is filled with stories of Joseph's life -- how he moved to New York with his grandmother, how Speedwagon helped them settle in, how he met his wife, how he lost his daughter to a Japanese bastard... "This is the stuff Suzie already knows," he explains, "So this way, you won't have to tell your story twice!"

His grandson has a wonderful mansion across the street from a large park. He has married a charming Italian woman with blue eyes and blonde hair who eagerly welcomes him into their home and gives a similarly incredulous response to Jonathan's identity.

"My, you two look so alike~" she sighs, twirling her fork.

"Do we really...?" Jonathan asks.

"We have different hair colors and I look older." Joseph shudders.

"That's only because you shared some of your power with me," Suzie sighs. "And to think you still regret it!"

"Hey, hey, slow down there! When did I ever say I regretted that?" he takes her hand and kisses her knuckles, "If it makes you happy, I have no regrets."

"Joseph!" Suzie chastises, "Not in front of your grandfather!"

Both Joestars cringe.

"...Right," Joseph says, clearing his throat and scooting his chair back, "So Grandpa, you in the mood to tell your story? It doesn't look like you'll be needing seconds." He glances down at Jonathan's barely-touched plate.

"Oh is American food too heavy for you?" Suzie titters, "I could make something a bit lighter in minutes!"

"Oh no, not at all!" Jonathan stammers, "I'm just not... ah, well... hungry." he scratches at the back of his neck. "So... how much of my story do you know?"

"Just what Granny Erina and Uncle Speedwagon said. So..." Joseph thinks back to his childhood tales, "How you studied archaeology and went off to fight vampires. How you won against Dio twice, but had to sacrifice yourself to win against him a third time." He pauses, making an effort to keep his eyes from misting over. "How you didn't let Granny Erina die with you... how you made her save the baby that ended up being my mother and escape the ship." He pauses a second time, and then: "How you were a great man."

"A true gentleman, as Mr. Speedwagon put it," Suzie adds.

Jonathan laughs, shaking his head, "I'm sure they embellished me greatly. But I'll tell you what I know of the present." And so he does, beginning with Dio's casket containing the two of them being fished out of the Atlantic, to Dio meeting with the first Stand user, Enya, to his own revival and his forced inheritance of a new body. He explains the nature of Stands, like a more specialized form of Hamon as far as he knows, and realizes belatedly it is a lot of information to take in without an actual Stand as proof. And then there is how they got to be in New York in the first place.

At the end of Jonathan's narration, Joseph is seated with his arms crossed. He strokes his chin, contemplating.

"So you came back to life because Dio wanted it?"

"I don't know if he wanted it, but -- "

"You say you read his memories and his memories showed him researching, right?"

"Yes."

"Then he must have been looking to revive you. But why?" Joseph's brow furrows, "Surely you have some idea."

"None at all," Jonathan admits. "It's why I've been staying close to him. As I told Erina, I can't leave Dio to his own devices."

"And that's all?" Joseph presses. Suzie Q tenses; she knows her husband well.

"...What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have no plans beyond following Dio around? You don't want to get your own body back? You don't want to avenge your father, your wife, your best friend -- hell, all those hundreds of people who died because of him?!"

For a moment, Jonathan is legitimately taken aback. No, he realizes, he really didn't have any plans to kill Dio or take his body back. He had assumed that, being the way of fate, Dio would set himself as a diametric existence at some point or another and Jonathan would have to fight against him yet again. But the present Dio... despite his murderous ways and general disregard for human life... it is then that Jojo realizes he's dropped his standards for Dio, somehow, sometime. Instead of 'he should be doing good' it's become 'he shouldn't be killing thoughtlessly and reattempting world domination' and somehow anything below that threshold does not register.

"Hello?" Joseph calls, snapping his fingers and about to reach a hand forth. His wife snatches it back, freezing him momentarily with a glare.

"I don't know," Jonathan eventually honestly responds.

It's not good enough.

"You think I'd be satisfied with an 'I don't know'?!" Joseph roars, "God, I can't believe my grandfather is this kind of spineless wimp!"

"Joseph!"

"Don't you dare stop me Suzie. If anyone caused you as much grief as Dio caused Grandma Erina -- " he turns his attention back to Jonathan here, eyes blazing, "Do you really have nothing to say for yourself? No battle plans or declarations or anything?!"

"Joseph, please -- "

"It's alright," Jonathan says, looking his grandson in the eye, "Is this what Erina told you?"

Joseph falters.

"Well..." he stammers. He remembers his grandmother's no-nonsense gaze. Seeing it now in Jonathan's eyes, he thinks he can understand her stories better.

"Because it does not sound like the sort of thing Erina would say," Jonathan continues, "But if Dio caused her as much grief as you say he did... if she passed away cursing his name... then I would not be able to stand by."

With the sudden turning of tables, Joseph finds himself put on the spot. He swallows, vision flitting between grandfather and wife.

"No," he admits, "She did not. She never did. But there was never a day she wasn't suffering from your death, damn you! She never remarried for all those years -- even after my mother remarried, she remained a widow!" He crashes his fist against the table, dishes clattering, "It's not fair. Why did you have to come back so late?"

Jonathan feels tears prick at his own eyes. But he will not cry, not before his grandson, not before his grandson's wife. Those empty years were his fault. So he stands up and quietly thanks Suzie for the wonderful evening, putting his blazer back on and smiling weakly at his grand daughter-in-law's soft apologies. It is not yet midnight, judging by the angle of the moon, but he has no idea where he is.

Pockets empty and feet heavy, he thinks back to the proffered money -- where his mood had soured and everything had gone south. But does he regret not taking the money? No, he does not. He finds it distasteful enough to be using a body Dio provided for him -- someone's stolen corpse. In that sense, he's no better than Dio. His grandson has every right to be disappointed in him; Joseph has a hotbloodedness that Jonathan remembers from his own childhood, a hotbloodedness that no longer comes forth with such ease. Where did all the time go, he wonders, and would he have believed anyone if they told him he would be talking to his adult grandson in America while looking no older than 20 and feeling older than a century? No, he would not have.

He wanders around the large park in front of Joseph's mansion. It is a nice enough open area with benches and lampposts and a dimly-lit lake. He does not know how long he sits in front of the lake, mind filled with nothing in-particular, only that time passes.

Dio leaps down from a tree, landing before him. Jonathan's Stand is still glowing from his arms; he retracts it soon enough. He looks down, looks at Jonathan looking at him, and there is another incomprehensible expression on his shadowed face.

"You are still crying," he notes, making a move to wipe said tears. Jonathan bats the hand away with a bruise-worthy amount of force. "I take it the meeting with your grandson didn't go well?"

"Why did you revive me?" Jonathan asks.

Still having no answer, Dio says nothing.

"Because, if it is as I suspect... if it is as Joseph suspects... we will only be clashing a fourth, fifth, sixth time."

"And what -- " he pauses, breaking on the words, choking on air, "-- is wrong with that?"

Jonathan shifts his gaze, looking forward. Looking through Dio.

"Would you believe me if I said I was tired of fighting?"

"Perhaps."

"I am."

"Then don't."

"But would you let me die?"

"No," Dio replies, voice distant yet sharp, "But in time, you should find your own reason to live."

Like clockwork, Jonathan lunges at him, but it is a halfhearted effort at best, with none of the bloodlust he had carried while in the Windknights Lot. Dio catch both fists, and there's another exchange of Ripple energies. It ends in a draw at best, a pitting between body and head. The difference comes from Jonathan's exhaustion and Dio having just fed. As with the previous night, he shoulders the other and makes his way back to the hotel. It unsettles Dio somewhat, to know that infallible and inhumanly noble Jonathan has his demons too. Slightly unsettling and significantly tempting.

Corrupting the incorruptible... the very idea is thrilling.

Chapter Text

By the time they return to the hotel, Jonathan has stopped struggling. His breaths are even and when Dio lets him down, he flops onto the bed without a word. A quick prick of purple vines earns Dio a vehement glare; like a scolded child, he retracts them. From what he had seen, Jonathan's reaction is because of his descendent. Figures he would have already put their earlier spat out of his mind. He admits he is still slightly resentful; to be thought of in such a disproportionate amount.

All the same, Dio postpones his invitation to corruption in favor of sunbathing a second time the next day. Jonathan's body reacts as well to the rays of the sun as it had two days prior, and this time, Dio is fully equipped with a modified sunhat (as procured by a bemused hotel staffer). He forgoes wearing a shirt however; there's no sense in listening to all of Jonathan's whims. And when Jonathan wakes up smothered under four layers of comforter, he asks to partake in the sunlight as well and again, Dio moves his bed.

"Thank you," Jonathan says, as Dio is combing his hair.

"For what?"

"For last night. I didn't know where I was," he laughs, shoulders rolling against Dio's legs, "And even if I had money, I wouldn't be able to tell the carriage driver where to go."

"The hotel's address is printed at the back of the card key."

"...Card key?"

"The small card you slot into the..." Dio pauses, fishing around for his own, "This thing." He turns it around, dangling it before Jonathan's face, "See? This is the hotel's address. Just take a taxi -- those are the yellow horseless carriages -- and tell the concierge you're living in the penthouse suite." He makes a note to deposit some extra money at the front desk in case of additional midnight adventures. Sure, he could use Jonathan's Stand again, but he assumes the other would enjoy the façade of mobility.

"That piece of paper is a key?" Jonathan asks incredulously.

"Of course. How did you think the door was being opened?"

"I didn't think about it, I guess," the other admits. Dio rolls his eyes, saying nothing.

They sit in silence for a couple minutes with Dio tilting Jonathan's head to the right in order to get at the left side's hair.

"I was wondering..."

"Hmm?"

"Can you see through your veil?"

"Of course not," Dio sniffs, "That would defeat the purpose. And it is a modified brim, not a veil."

"I see..." Jonathan echoes, furrowing his brow. "So -- how do you know where my hair is?"

Dio shrugs, ignoring an irritating throb, "I still have my other senses. Even the blind have their ways of seeing."

"That's true," Jojo agrees, nodding, "There must be a huge difference in our senses. I know we might as well not have noses when compared to dogs... is your sense of smell as good as theirs?"

"What are you implying," he drawls, poking one end of the comb into Jonathan's cheek.

"Just curious!" the other laughs.

"Curious, eh?" Dio murmurs. He turns Jonathan's head to the left, continuing with: "On the subject of curiosity, what did your descendent say to you last night?"

A pained expression settles on Jonathan's features then. Well, Dio cannot make his surroundings out with that much precision, but he can feel Jonathan's muscles tense. Another silence begins and through it, an alien and unpleasant sensation makes its way up Dio's chest. From behind his sunhat he frowns. For a moment, the weight of Jonathan's head and shoulders is almost crushing -- a laughable thought indeed. And then the feeling subsides, flitting away as quickly as it had come.

He notices Jonathan is talking because his jaw is moving, but he needs some extra time to make out the words.

"...said he was disappointed in me. He thinks I should avenge Erina."

Revenge. So this was how far the Joestars had fallen. He thinks back to Jonathan's reasons for stopping him. He had mourned his father's death of course, but George Joestar had been a gentleman up until his last breath: insisting that Dio be buried in the family cemetery and given all the honors of a true Joestar. And Jonathan would have agreed to his father's dying wish. No, when he was being pursued by Jonathan, it had always been in the name of the greater good.

"Will you?" Dio asks. Though he already knows the answer, but he wants to hear the reason.

"No," Jonathan sighs, shaking his head, "Joseph doesn't agree with me of course, but I have already made my peace with you. Seeing Joseph especially... I can believe that Erina died happily, surrounded by friends and family."

Somehow, hearing Jonathan's reasoning makes him sick.

Dio laughs his usual cruel laugh.

"You're still a fool Jojo," he starts, "You think that your role is already over? You think that because I didn't kill Erina or keep her from having a happy life that you have no ill will towards me? What happened to that murderous determination at Windknights? Where is the simpleton who would give his life to save nameless strangers?"

"I don't know," Jonathan admits. "I guess... I'm still adjusting. Everything feels surreal."

He goes on to talk about how strange it is to be called 'grandfather' by a man who looks a decade older than him and how happy he is to see his descendents doing well. Dio tunes him out; his own fury is near the breaking point. Here he has been, devising plan after plan for changing their story and Jonathan has simply written The End! A perpetual discrepancy that he can do nothing about... as Jonathan continues prattling about the prospect of great-great-grandchildren and other family members to further steal away his time, Dio feels his left eye twitch. There it is again -- that sudden dull pain.

It's too much at once he decides, throwing the comb at the wall. Jonathan stops in the middle of a sentence, shutting up when he is lifted out of Dio's lap, and Dio quickly closes the curtains. After he sheds the sunhat -- it really is ridiculous, he thinks -- he pushes Jonathan's bed back to its normal space. At this point, Jonathan reaches out from underneath his many comforters, pressing his palm against Dio's cheek.

Now that his body is no longer his own, Jonathan's touch is so very cold.

"What?" Dio asks, neither encouraging nor pulling away.

"You look unsettled," Jonathan answers, retracting his hand.

"How would you know?" is his brusque reply. "You can't even see."

Because Jonathan says nothing, Dio moves back to his own bed. Though the body beneath his neck is tingling anew from the sunlight, his own head feels strangely heavy. It's anger, he decides, and he's angry. Angry that after all he's done for Jojo, the other still considers their bond to be inferior to that of his family members. Jonathan proves him right the next evening, leaving at the onset of dusk. He does not say anything and Dio considers it beneath him to ask. So Dio spends his evening alone. Well, not exactly alone... not 'alone' in any sense really, and when he returns to the hotel, Jonathan's bed is still empty. He thinks nothing of it, right up to an hour before sunrise. And then he's gliding to the full-length mirror and activating Jonathan's Stand. He sees Jonathan tucked into a different bed, all unabashed pink roses and white frills, and Jonathan's descendents in the lower levels.

Infuriating.

He cuts the Stand off and walks back to his own bed.

The World hovers nearby, as if responding to his poor mood, but when he turns to look at it, it disappears again.

He had planned on spending no more than a week in New York. Jonathan forces him to cancel their tickets and extend the hotel booking -- a penthouse suite for one person!

He keeps his mind occupied with a wider array of victims, ranging from socialites at the member-only clubhouses to washed-up addicts from the underground raves. Although Jonathan's Stand is at his beck and call, he refuses to use it. He does not want to see its 'truth'. And just like that, a week passes with Jonathan away.

Bitterly, he thinks he should have kept the other as a head.

On the ninth day, Dio returns to the hotel room to find Jonathan asleep in the armchair. He's wearing a brand-new suit, with an brand name watch and designer loafers to boot. So, Dio thinks, Jonathan had fully patched things up with his grandson and was now comfortably living in the upper echelon yet again.

With more force than necessary, he shakes the other man's shoulders.

Jonathan startles, his eyes snapping open.

"Wha -- ? Ah, oh, Dio...!" he relaxes then, expression softening, "Long time no see."

"What made you come back?" Thinking back, he does not know what sort of answer he wanted to hear, asking a question like that.

"Ah, well, you see..." Jonathan scratches his head, "Joseph asked me to spar with him, so I've been doing that for the past couple nights. He's actually quite good with the Ripple, despite not having practiced in years!"

And are you still the best, Dio refrains from saying, Despite having the body of a vampire?

"Of course Joseph can transfer some of his energy to me, but we both expended quite a bit, so I thought it would be best to come back to you," Jonathan concludes, grinning up at Dio. "Ah, and here you go -- " he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small parcel, dropping it in Dio's outstretched hand.

The accusation of am I just a battery to you dies in his throat upon unwrapping the impromptu present. 'I don't know if you like it, but the saleslady said it's good for your skin,' Jonathan stammers in the background. It is a set of cosmetics: lipstick and nail polish and mascara and so forth, all in a striking shade of green and likely worth its weight in gold if the label was anything to go by. The thought of Jonathan rooting around some high-end department store -- the New Yorker's version of Harrod's -- for beauty products is so comical, Dio's mood is momentarily brightened. He laughs, giving thanks for the gift and pressing his lips to Jonathan's brow. He's reminded of Christmases at the Joestar mansion, a not entirely unpleasant affair.

"I will open the curtains tomorrow," he promises.

Come tomorrow and he makes good on his promise, covering Jonathan for a third time before donning his sunhat and pulling back said curtains. This time, the throbbing comes immediately -- and to a dizzying degree. He ends up having to lean against the armchair; so overtaken by the alien sensation of pain. He takes a couple deep breaths to steady himself, constantly repeating mind over matter. From what he's seen in articles and what's been reflected in his own experiments, it takes an enormous amount of willpower to maintain one's own consciousness after becoming a vampire. He has done that and more.

Jonathan's delighted expression is a balm in and of itself; he initiates conversation yet again and Dio, short of breath but refusing to let it show, allows him to lead. And so Jonathan talks to him about his descendents, how Joseph is rough around the edges but so very much in love with his wife. How Suzie Q (as Joseph still called her at times) made amazing pot pies and roasts and brownies. How they had a daughter -- and Jonathan had a great-granddaughter -- who married a Japanese man and moved there as a result. How she had just sent pictures of her son who had recently turned fourteen.

"I would like to meet him someday," Jonathan is saying, and he sounds so far away. "I don't think I could have imagined being a great-grandfather, much less a great-great-grandfather, but it would be nice to meet a relative who actually looks younger than me."

'Don't go,' Dio wants to say.

"I'll follow you anywhere," is what comes out instead.

He is vaguely aware of Jojo directly beneath him, of stiff and suddenly scrambling limbs and an increasingly loud voice. He needs to fight it, he knows, he's lived off of clawing his way up. He knows this and yet, try as he might, he cannot move his limbs.

This feeling is familiar, he thinks before blacking out.

Jonathan does not notice anything is wrong until blood is dripping from Dio's neck, and then the other mumbles something at a volume he cannot make out and he falls forward. Jonathan cannot catch him, cannot even lift his arms, and then Dio is bleeding on top of him. Without even thinking about it, he lurches into action, sliding out of his pile of blankets and quickly shutting the curtains. The sunlight burns at him, a sizzling sort of pain he's never experienced before, but the time spent practicing the Ripple must've endowed his body with some degree of resistance. He doesn't have the time to ponder such circumstances, quickly turning Dio on his back and pulling the sunhat off.

Even in the dimness of the room, Jojo can see the other is in visible pain.

"Dio -- what's wrong?" he asks, a tightness creeping about his own chest. He gently shakes his shoulder only for Dio to rear up with his eyes glowing red and fangs beared. He snarls, lunging forward, before spasming backwards.

Jonathan has no training in medicine and he knows absolutely nothing about normalcy for vampires. But he bites his bottom lip, continuing to the best of his abilities. He feels Dio's forehead, pulse, and chest with his hand. His head -- and only his head -- is burning up with what feels like a fever.

A fever? But vampires couldn't get sick. There was only thing they were afraid of and Dio --

The epiphany hits him like a stone and he feels the sharp sting of guilt. Of course Dio wouldn't be able to act as a carrier for Ripple energy -- he was still a vampire through and through! As Joseph had told him earlier, the only vampires who could use the Ripple had been masters of the art as a human. Dio was not and he was still missing something fundamental.

Without thinking twice, he throws open the top drawer in the writing desk, snatching up the letter opener before slashing his own wrist. Mimicking the events of the prior week and a half, he presses the fresh wound to Dio's mouth, staving off the lightheadedness that came with the bloodloss.

Sure enough, Dio begins to lap at the blood. His breaths return soon after.

A wave of relief flows through Jonathan right before he crashes to the floor.

Chapter Text

"You are an idiot."

"Perhaps. Joseph said so too, you know?"

Dio scowls at the comparison. But he is more annoyed at the state they are both in, so he continues. "Your body is covered with what might as well be second degree burns and it's a wonder it has enough energy to seal the cut on your wrist. Must you still be so difficult Jojo?"

"You were screaming in pain," Jonathan replies. "I didn't know what else to do."

"I'll show you 'screaming in pain'," Dio mutters. But it is too much trouble to stay mad at Jonathan and although he is awake and capable of movement, even the brightness of the bathroom lights make his head hurt.

Jojo gives a soft chuckle, shifting slightly on his bed.

"How far have we come," he muses, turning again to look at Dio. "Tell me Dio, did those years under the ocean mellow you out?"

"Not the slightest," he spits back. There is a telltale sharpness to his tone.

As is characteristic, Jonathan either fails to notice or pays it no attention. "But you're different," he points out, "Different from what I remember... different from what I thought you'd become."

"Have I exceeded your expectations then? Did you expect your world to be in ashes when I revived you?" Dio's head still hurts, he knows he should not be talking, and still he presses on. "Have you concluded that I can be left to my own devices? Is that what that beauty kit was to show?"

If he is surprised to be assaulted with so many questions, Jonathan does not show it. To an extent, Dio's anger is almost reassuring. This was the person he had spent the better part of his life pitted against. And still, there a dullness to his words; that lack of familiar cruelty continues to unsettle him.

"I did not say any of that," he says.

"You might as well have."

Lacking a proper response, Jonathan says nothing. Dio gives in to the need for fresh blood then, changing his outfit and combing back his hair. Right as he's about to leave, taking with him the scent of musk and varnish, Jojo says: "That color suits you well," and Dio ends up slamming the door and banging his head on the edge of the elevator.

Left alone in the hotel room, Jojo is perplexed. He had thought that Dio wanted their uneasy peace returned. If that were the case, then wouldn't Jojo's compliment have been a step in the right direction? Even when they were boys, Dio's anger had been assuaged with honest praise. He knows what Dio is going out for, knows what will happen because he can't find it in himself to kill the other for a fourth time. To keep his mind off of the abetted murders, he thinks back to the past week. Spending time with Joseph had been like something out of a dream. He enjoyed listening to the other's wild stories -- partly because they included snippets of Erina and Speedwagon, but primarily because Joseph was such a good storyteller.

His adventures too, though they had happened decades ago... it feels like he hasn't finished experiencing them when he's listening to his grandson. And so Jonathan daydreams as Joseph recounts his Transatlantic flight from London to New York which led to an impromptu brawl with the Pillar Men in Central America, and then a race across the European continent -- Italy, Germany, Switzerland -- before heading back to the Americas again. As Joseph confesses afterwards, there were details that he had not shared with anyone since, and when he talks about his fallen comrades, Jonathan finds himself remembering the Zeppeli from his own timeline -- his mischievous streak and his leanings of nobility.

Little lion, he remembers the other man had nicknamed him.

Although he is touched that Speedwagon introduced his grandson to Zeppeli's grandson, and grateful that Caesar greatly aided Joseph, he feels a distinct sting of remorse; one that Joseph mirrors perfectly. Because here they are -- living the high life in New York with grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren to boot -- while the Zeppeli name has died out. Speedwagon and Erina too... although Jonathan would not give up their love and friendship for anything, he finds himself wondering again if, perhaps, they might have led happier lives had they not met him. He hints as much to Joseph and his grandson firmly punches him in the face. Jonathan does not bring the subject up again.

Joseph, for his part, steers clear of mentioning Dio. Although Jonathan doubts the other has made his peace -- indeed, he wonders if he himself has really comes to terms with how much Dio has taken -- Joseph seems to accept something in their second meeting. For Jonathan, it is a grateful reprieve; he's racked his brain for countless hours, wondering what sort of plans Dio might have for himself and the world, and how Jonathan being alive would slot into them. He has never had any ambitions for world domination and said as much in his career choice of archaeology. Here, alone, he reaches the same conclusion: there is nothing he can offer Dio.

But what about himself? What does he want? He knows that Erina would berate him for throwing away his second chance at life, especially as he did the same when their positions were reversed. Joseph's talk about his daughter and grandson have made Jonathan curious to a degree. In the nineteenth century, it was considered extremely lucky to be able to converse with your grandchildren -- to say nothing of great-great-grandchildren! But Japan is quite far away and he has no idea how long Dio plans to stay in New York. And with the newfound connection between them... well, when all is said and done, Jonathan does not think Dio should be left to his own devices.

But what can you do, even if he tells you he's going to kill off half the world?, his conscience insists. He tries to reason that the current Dio wouldn't attempt something so grand. To which the question remains: has Jonathan changed so much that he can turn a blind eye to the 'life a night' lifestyle Dio has grown into?

A life a night should be worth a murder, the same voice concludes.

He shakes his head before wincing at the tearing of still-raw wounds.

Jonathan feels the same exhaustion he had felt on the boat. The relief he had felt over his triumph at Windknights, his happiness over marrying Erina, the exultation during their wedding night... all of it had been eaten up in his final battle. What he feels now is the same as what he had felt then: tired. Tired of fighting, of struggling, of watching other people die -- of having other people die for him. How many more Zeppelis, Speedwagons, and Pendletons would need to be sacrificed in his fight against Dio? How many until one side gave him?

At the root of it, this body sickens him. Although it's a wonder that it can conduct the Ripple -- that it can hold its own in repeated sparrings with Joseph -- it is still a taker of lives through and through.

He has had his extra time; and he knows it to be enough.

By the time Dio returns to the room, Jonathan has already made up his mind.

"Welcome back," he greets, setting down a book on recent archaeological findings (a gift from his granddaughter-in-law). Dio grunts in acknowledgement, closing the front entrance before ducking into the bathroom. There is the sound of running water and then the spray of the shower. After half a chapter on Mesoamerican burial practices, Dio re-emerges in a swathe of cotton and steam with water still dripping from his hair. There's an edge to his movements that Jonathan can easily make out. Dio is testing him, then.

Jonathan doesn't make a noise when Dio throws him on the bed, but he does turn his head once Dio forces the cut wrist against his mouth.

"Jojo," Dio growls.

"No," he says.

"Drink."

"No," Jonathan repeats, shaking his head. "I've decided that I have made my peace with you."

"What do I care?" Dio snorts, pressing his wrist closer. "Be quiet and drink."

"I won't." Having made up his mind, he feels strangely calm. The uneasiness he's felt since his revival seems like a thing of the past. "I am grateful that you revived me, that you gave me the opportunity to say goodbye to Erina and meet my grandson. But it does not suit me... this world and this body. So I've decided -- "

"I don't care," Dio interrupts, grabbing Jonathan's face and forcing his mouth open. Overtaken with something, Jonathan fights tooth and nail, flashes of the Ripple in the bend of his fingers, at the edge of his teeth. The past week of sparring shines through and Dio's self-inflicted wound is healed upon contact. Dio snarls, cutting himself again, and again, Jonathan heals him with a touch. This back and forth continues for a couple times until Dio gets fed up. He slams his fist into Jonathan's face -- or tries to, at least. Jonathan cuts him off with a perfect block, and Dio can see the Ripple glowing from inside his pupils.

"I will not drink your blood," Jonathan declares with quiet conviction, "And I will not let you kill yourself to keep me alive."

"One hundred years and you are still a godforsaken spoiled brat!" Dio screeches, "Do you have any idea how many people would kill to be in your position?! Eternal youth, unlimited wealth, inhuman amounts of power. All you need to do is stay alive and accept it!"

"I never wanted any of that."

"Oh no, of course not. Nothing is good enough for Jonathan Joestar."

"You know what I wanted." And you took it away.

Dio throws the encroaching purple vines off, picking himself up off the bed and stalking out of the room. He has no way of making Jonathan stay, he realizes, outside of reducing him to a head yet again. But he is so angry -- so angry at the other, at the world, at this current track of 'fate' -- that he does not care. That night, he participates in an orgy. Well, it is a threesome at first, but more and more people come in. He hates them, but they love him. Love everything he represents at least. So he welcomes them -- women and men alike -- with his green lips and greener nails. They worship him with their eyes, their hands, their tongues, laving him as the most devoted worshipper would their god, and he almost breaks into laughter at the irony.

He is no god. He is merely another puppet strung on the strings of fate. If there is a Heaven, its overlord must be laughing at him. All the strife and struggle, the nights spent researching reanimation and the months spent looking for a body; the trip to London, to New York, the crème de la crème accommodation... all of it useless.

When his worshippers have had their fill of him and he has had his fill of them, he squeezes up, against, and through the maze of arms and legs into the hallway bathroom. There, he strips down and truly admires the body before him for the first time. The feeding frenzy has brought him close to peak performance; he turns on all three sets of lights and stretches beneath them.

He starts at the neck, tracing the still-visible join line, before moving down to the collarbone. There, to the left, is the Joestar birthmark. Brushing against it sends a tingle across his body; he does not pause to consider its implications. No, instead he continues, squeezing his biceps, palming his pectorals, flicking his delightfully pert nipples. Yes, he thinks, even fully clothed this body manages to stand out. He does not fault the nameless men and women for being attracted to this body; they have impeccable taste.

His hands glide down his waist, skirting past abdominals that might as well have been chiseled. His thighs and calves are firm as well, and a light squeeze on his buttocks elicits another tingle. He stretches his fingers, wiggles his toes, bends this way and that. Satisfied that his initial conclusion had been correct, that his body was the pinnacle, he returns to his core, watching himself drift lower, lower, until his fingers are tangling with the body's mismatched pubic hair. It is coarse, unkempt, and touching it causes his length to thicken.

With regards to his worshippers, he feels none of their eagerness -- yet all of their awe.

At an aching pace, he closes his fingers about the cock, grinding his palm against its base. Like a motion picture, he watches it come to life in the mirror. Slowly, he continues stroking it, making sure to keep his fingers steady. His ministrations cause it to swell to full and if he weren't already fully aroused, the sight alone would make him hard. He is leaking at this point, pre-ejaculate dripping from the tip. Maintaining the same speed, he rubs it with his thumb, spreading it around the foreskin.

His knees are wobbling; his vision is spinning. Although he wants to stretch it out as long as possible, his fingers move on their own and he finds himself thrusting his hips, matching their pace. He gasps Jonathan's nickname upon climax, semen shooting across the mirror, and he leans against the left cabinet, white bleeding away from his vision.

He could do it, he knows. Remove Jonathan's head and stay in the shadows. To an extent, his rival would stay alive with him for all eternity as his perfect body. It would be a sort of tribute, even. And when Dio is feeling especially bored, or perhaps if he just wants to gloat, he'll make another contraption and bathe Jonathan's head in sunlight. Perhaps they will talk as old friends do; perhaps Jonathan will even advise him at times. He will not have to go without Jonathan for long, really. There were such things as portable ultraviolet rays, mechanisms which mimicked the light of the sun. He could carry one with him, or have it installed in his base.

It is entirely possible.

But it is not what he will do.

Dio laughs then, breaths returning in short spurts. He cleans himself off and washes his hands, picking his discarded garments up and putting them back on. He remembers hating Jonathan long before having met him, hating the boy his age who had absolutely everything given to him. And then Dio had taken everything, only to end up being the giver and now, here he is, being made into the giver of his own volition by Jonathan Joestar.

"Yours was a wonderful gift. Truly a body that was most suitable for I, Dio." He makes up his mind and unlocks the bathroom door, already planning the shortest route back to the hotel. "But I will give it back to you Jojo, if it will keep you at my feet."

Chapter Text

"Jojo," a voice calls, shaking his shoulder. He groans, rolling over.

"Jojo," the voice repeats at a louder volume. "Jojo, wake up now!"

"Wha -- bah -- god!" Joseph sits up abruptly, grabbing his wife by the shoulders. "Oh! Sweetie, what's the matter?"

"I think there's someone at the front door."

"What...?" he rubs the sleep from his eyes, concentrating. Indeed, there is a knock at the door. He glances at the clock which reads half past two, and feels trepidation creep down his spine. He does not know anyone who would call at this hour. Anyone except...

"Did you hear it?" Suzie whispers after the knocking has stopped again.

"I did, I did," he pats his cheeks and shirks off his sleeping shirt for something warmer. Then he quickly slips into his cargo pants, pulling back the curtains to double-check. There were no cars in the front, which meant that their visitor must have walked over. At the very least, there couldn't be more than five; even two people were hard to fit in the porch's overhang. The idea of fighting against three of Dio's minions... regular vampires were no issue, but specially trained ones? Or worse, the mastermind himself? Joseph swallows, fastening his belt. "Don't go downstairs no matter what you hear," he instructs, closing the curtains, "Lock the door and don't open it for anyone."

"Joseph Joestar, what is going on?!"

"Believe me, I'm as much in the dark as you," he pinches her left cheek, ducking down to kiss the right one, "But I'm about to find out."

"Don't do anything rash," she whispers, "Remember how you attacked your own grandfather!"

"Okay, okay," he sighs, quietly exiting their bedroom. He takes the stairs in one great leap, using the Ripple to cushion and muffle his landing, before grabbing the shotgun from its mantleside perch. Better safe than sorry, he reasons, even if bullets were useless against vampires. Then he takes a deep breath and opens the front door.

"Joseph!" Jonathan greets.

"Oh my god!!" his grandson shrieks, clapping a hand over his mouth. "What are you doing outside at this hour?! No, no, you can tell me in the morning." He sets the gun down and opens the door. Jonathan makes no motion to get in. "Well?" he prompts, even as a sinking feeling sets in, "What are you waiting for?"

"Not tonight," the other says, gently shaking his head.

"What do you mean not tonight?"

For a while, Jonathan looks at him. It is as if he is studying Joseph's face, trying to memorize each detail. Then he breaks his gaze, coughing into his hand. "Do you think... your wife will mind if I borrow you for a while?"

"At this hour? Are you crazy?" Joseph straightens up, inspecting his grandfather. His brows furrow, "You're not leaving now, are you?"

"Well..."

"What! Why? At this hour? But it's only been a week!" he groans, going back inside and pulling on his boots. "Suzie, I'm going for a walk with Grandpa!" he calls before exiting again, locking the door. "I know you need to catch a red-eye flight, but why now? Are you tired of the Big Apple already?"

"That's not it," Jonathan laughs, reaching forward to ruffle his grandson's dark hair. "Come on, let's walk a little."

He leads and Joseph follows, and the two of them walk through the street, turning into the park, and along the gravel trail. There are lampposts every dozen meters, though the moon provides most of the light. It's a waxing half-moon, a summertime beauty.

"Remember fighting over water on that lake there?" Jonathan asks.

"I didn't know old man Zeppeli taught you that too," Joseph laughs. "Even now, your technique is way sharp."

"Only from practice and necessity," his grandfather chuckles. "I wish I had some of your ingenuity."

"I do have a lot," Joseph preens. "So stay a bit longer, then! We can spar some more, who knows, maybe some of my smarts will rub off!"

"Luck is important too," Jonathan adds, "But when I look at your lifestyle..." he trails off because it does not seem right, putting those feelings into words. Joseph understands though, clasping his hand over Jonathan's shoulder.

"I always wanted to meet you," he mutters, cheeks a little pink, "Partly because of the stories Granny would tell me, but also because... well, we're family, you know?" He removes his hand and gives a long groan, messing up his already-messy hair, "I'm no good with feelings, but what I mean is: you know you can count on me, right? For more stuff than just shopping and a place to stay at?"

The moonlight does a fine job of outlining Jonathan's expression, surprise softening into affection. He reaches an arm out as well, pulling Joseph in for a hug.

"Thank you." He pulls away, smiling still, and adds: "Thank you for taking care of Erina in my place, and thank you for telling your stories to an old man like me."

"Old man?" Joseph snorts, "You say that while looking younger than me... goddamn, I feel old!"

"The last week was wonderful," Jonathan continues, "Please thank your wife for me. I missed the taste of pasta."

"You can come back and eat it whenever," Joseph replies, making an effort at nonchalance. "It's just that... the way that you're talking..." he stops, the pieces falling into place. "Grandpa -- you're not planning on dying, are you?"

Jonathan stops walking. He purses his lips, expression speckled with filtered light.

"It's Dio's fault, isn't it?" Joseph growls.

"Well -- "

It is all Jonathan manages to get out before Dio swoops down. He casts a derisive glance in Joseph's direction before taking Jonathan by the arm.

"Bastard!" Joseph screams, letting loose a burst of energy.

"Joseph, wait -- "

"Useless," Dio spits. "You're a hundred years too early to think that -- "

"Shut your mouth!" Joseph roars, throwing both clackers. One of them manages to latch around Dio's arm, practically setting it aflame.

"Dio," Jonathan tries. He's silenced with a glare as Dio releases his hold only to bare his fangs.

"I was going to let you live," he snarls, "But to think that you would harm the body of I, Dio..."

"Except it's not your body!" Joseph shouts back, snapping his fingers and calling the second clacker back. It boomerangs towards him, missing Dio by a couple hairs. He lets loose another burst of Ripple -- a slightly weaker version of Jonathan's Sunset Overdrive by the looks of it -- and Dio dodges it again.

"Joseph, it's -- "

"Shut up Gramps!" his grandson growls, readying a larger blast, "It's not just for you, I need to avenge Granny Erina and Uncle Speedwagon too!"

"Oh?" Dio taunts, ripping the initial clacker from his arm, "Was that supposed to be an attack? I didn't know you cared so little!"

And that's when Joseph lets the energy go. It turns out to be a more concentrated blast which splits into three parts, curving first away and then towards Dio's head. Instinctively, Jonathan fires an Overdrive of his own to counter it, but as his own reserves are running low, he only manages to divert a third of the blast. The World manifests at the last second, but the Ripple ends up dangerously close to Dio's face.

"Yes!" Joseph exults, and then does a double-take. "Wait a -- what is that?!"

"You dare!" Dio bellows, blood dripping once more from his left eye. "The World -- end him!"

"Jojo!" Suzie greets, stumbling into the glen at the worst possible time, "I wanted to say good-bye to your grandfather too!"

"Suzie!"

A chain reaction is set off then: Joseph barrels towards his wife, tackling her to the ground. They land with a solid oomph with The World veering towards Joseph, right behind their heels. Jonathan dashes forward too, putting himself between Dio's Stand and his grandson, while forcing his own Stand into action to boot.

"Stop!" Dio calls, right as his Stand's attack is about to land.

The World freezes mid-punch.

Their's is a strange picture: Joseph huddled over Suzie with Jonathan standing in front of them. His arms are spread and his body is aglow with the Ripple. In front of Jonathan is The World, self-illuminating as well, and behind The World is Dio. Dio, who is practically rooted to the ground, so entangled is he with Jonathan's Stand. To the casual passerby, they must look crazy -- admittedly, it was a ridiculous scene even with both Stands visible.

"It's useless," Dio repeats, forcing both Stands to dissipate. He fixes his collar and walks over to Jonathan, looking the other up and down.

"Come," he commands, extending his hand. Jonathan darts a glance at Joseph and Suzie and, seeing that they are alright, recalls the Ripple as well, practically buckling against Dio. The extra energy expenditure was necessary, yes, but damning all the same.

Dio mutters 'soft-hearted fool' before shouldering Jonathan again. He's stopped again by Joseph, who has managed to get up and grab onto his ankle.

"I'll kill you, you fucker!" he swears, right before Dio kicks him in the face. He lands on his feet, but it doesn't stop him from shouting: "Grandpa! Try to stay alive! I'll save you, I promise!"

"Your grandson is stupid," Dio says disdainfully. Unfortunately, Jojo is already out cold.

When Jonathan wakes the next evening, he is back on his bed in the hotel room. With the shower running and Dio nowhere in sight, he puts two and two together and sits up. As soon as he does, something feels different. He flexes his fingers and then finds himself staring at his empty palm. Something is different. Not wrong, but different. When he stretches his arm out, he finds that it is trembling. Understanding dawns: he recognizes this arm.

It is his own. His own awm.

And this -- he throws off the sheets and dashes to the full-length mirror in the entranceway, practically ripping off Dio's bright-green collared shirt -- this is his body. That is his birthmark.

When Dio exits the bathroom wrapped in a robe, Jonathan is still standing before the mirror. A shirt lies to the side, and the matching blazer and tie are nearby. Unconsciously, Dio moves his fingers to rest against his own neck. There is no scar there now; the faultless join is almost a disappointment.

"Ah," he sighs, "To think that even Jojo can -- "

He does not get to finish his sentence as Jonathan neatly pulls him into a crushing embrace.

The air is being squeezed from his lungs -- of course Jonathan would be able to use his superhuman strength from the get-go. The other man is pressed close, too close, and Dio rearranges his features into a scowl as he forcefully pushes Jojo away.

"What are you doing?" he bites as Jonathan makes no move to wipe the grin from his face. "No, don't say anything. I can see you're getting the wrong idea. What occurred was this: your body was entirely unsuitable for my needs and I thought the body I gave you would do better."

And still, Jonathan grins.

"Stop that," Dio orders.

"We should have dinner with Joseph and Suzie," Jonathan declares, changing the subject entirely.

"What? Absolutely not."

"Oh don't worry about it! Joseph is a great grandson," Jonathan says, as if that is Dio's main concern. He babbles on, completely ignoring the other. "Dio, I want to reintroduce you. After all these years... I know Joseph would probably think it's too late, but I don't." He stops and reaches out to grab Dio's shoulders, squeezing for emphasis, "There's no such thing as too late. We were always brothers, but now..."

"Stop this madness," Dio interjects, roughly shoving him away.

Jonathan remains undeterred. His smile, which Dio cannot bear to see, could probably light up a room. As it is, he hugs Dio again, this time from behind.

"We were always brothers," he repeats, "But only now can I call you a friend."

"Your friendship is useless," Dio is quick to retort.

Jonathan laughs; it is a lovely sound.

To be whole once more, it is a beautiful image -- that much, Dio can admit. He admires the other out of the corner of his vision, observing as Jonathan redresses himself. Socks, trousers, belt, undercover, shirt, tie, vest; the gold-plated watch is the finishing touch.

"Yes," he says, and Jonathan looks his way, questioning.

One half. And together, they become a whole.

Chapter Text

"Aaargh!" Joseph groans, interrupting the clink of silverware by throwing his hands in the air. "What is wrong with you guys?!"

"Don't mind him," the most supportive wife in the world says, scooping another ladle of soup, "He's just really excited to have so many people around the dinner table again."

"No I'm not!" the other three continue eating, with Jonathan helping himself to a third serving of spinach.

"This is a really good salad," he says in-between mouthfuls.

"Why thank you! I'd like to say it's a family secret, but really, it's just that the produce from upstate farms are so fresh!"

"Hey, don't ignore me!" Joseph repeats, gesturing wildly to their two guests. "Am I the only one who thinks it's a terrible idea letting him -- " and here, he jabs a finger in Dio's direction, "eat dinner with us? Oy, look up when I'm talking about you! No, not you Grandpa... and how are you okay with this?!"

"Well, he did give me back my body..."

"Which he shouldn't have taken in the first place! And on that note, why did you give him back his body just like that? I know you're -- mmph!" Joseph has a lot more to say, but Suzie shuts him up with a mouthful of lasagna. He glares at her with cheese hanging from his mouth, before he closes his eyes and slowly chews, moaning at the exquisite flavor.

"Damn you woman..." he mutters, plucking the fork from her hand, "How do you manage to get the edges so crispy..."

"Joseph!" Jonathan chides, "Language!"

"Oh, right. Sorry sweetie."

"Don't bother reminding him," Suzie laughs, "He swears in front of me all the time!"

"Not all the time!" Joseph insists, flustered.

"What about when you found out Holly was engaged? There was some colorful language there."

"Th-that was extenuating circumstances! I promised to never do it..." he trails off, whirling on his grandfather, "Don't look at me like that Gramps! You make it look like I pushed a busload of orphans off a cliff or something, geez!"

Jonathan shakes his lips but refrains from commenting, going back to eating his own slice of seven-layered lasagna.

Dio mutters 'whipped' from under his breath and Joseph immediately turns on him: "What did you say, you bloodsucking creep?"

"I said that this cheese fondue is delightfully whipped," Dio answers without missing a beat. With measured movements, he dips a crouton into said fondue, popping it into his mouth with a smile.

"If it's a fight you're looking for, it's a fight you're going to get!" Joseph growls, standing up.

"Jojo!" Suzie chastises.

"Joseph, Dio," Jonathan addresses, grudgingly taking on the role of household head, "Suzie has prepared a wonderful dinner for us. Shouldn't we sit down and enjoy it before fighting anew? Here, look, this is your problem -- your glasses are already empty -- " he picks up the wine bottle and pours anew, "There you go." He lifts his glass, Suzie and Dio do the same. Joseph sits down, shoots one last glare at Dio, but raises his glass as well.

"Cheers!" Suzie grins.

"Cheers!" Jonathan echoes.

"To new beginnings," Dio agrees, smiling wickedly at Joseph.

"And the luck of the draw," Joseph concludes, glaring still.

"Honey, don't look like that, you'll wrinkle your brow," Suzie sighs, prodding said brow. Joseph's nostrils flare but he manages to calm himself down, downing the glass in one gulp. Dio and Jonathan do the same, though Dio of course has an added flourish.

"Top me up, Suzie," Joseph requests.

"Me too," Jonathan adds, completely oblivious to the flying sparks.

"I would not pass up such fine wine," Dio agrees.

Thinking back, Suzie must have been slightly inebriated herself as it is the only excuse for her to continue drinking. Somehow or another, the four of them manage to make their way through six bottles of wine -- four red and two white -- and Joseph would have started them on the vodka, had Jonathan and Suzie not passed out halfway. He carries them upstairs, dropping Jonathan off in Holly's old room and Suzie in their shared bedroom, and shakes the alcohol from his head. Nothing sobers him quite as quickly as arriving downstairs and seeing Dio exit the front door. He grabs a pistol and his trenchcoat, snatching his wallet from the cabinet before counting to twenty.

Somehow, Dio has managed to call a taxi to their front door. He gets into it, and Joseph dashes into the garage, starting up his own car before following in hot pursuit. The taxicab that Dio is in winds through the residential area, zig-zagging this way and that. Joseph pretends to be thrown off, forcing himself to make a wrong left turn, then parks his car, sprints out, gets into a nearby taxi, and dramatically shouts "follow that cab, but keep your distance!"

It works, or at least he manages to see where Dio goes: into a nondescript but extremely ornate building where the only lights are from the top floor. Joseph calls up the Speedwagon Foundation -- apparently it's a high-end lounge for gentlemen, invitation only, and he somehow manages to sneak his way through reception and into the elevator. Dio is up to something, he is absolutely certain of it. There were moments that his grandfather didn't notice, but he could swear smiling seemed to hurt the vampire's face somehow. But why would Dio give Jonathan back his body? Joseph doubts it is as he explained, that Dio thought the replacement body was better than Jonathan's... because if that were the case, why give Jonathan back his old body? Either way, he's determined to get to the bottom of this.

He grits his teeth and double-checks the pistol. It's loaded.

A couple rough questions later and he finds out that Dio is in the furthest private room. As he gets closer, he can smell the perfume of a woman. Many women, possibly.

The scent of blood interrupts him and his mind jumps to the obvious answer.

"Freeze!" he shouts, kicking open the door with his gun drawn.

"There, there," Dio reassures, holding the hand of a pale-faced woman. He looks up at Joseph, who quickly pockets his gun.

"Making them bleed from the mouth?" Joseph asks, "And here I thought you'd just suck them dry."

"You're mistaken," Dio replies, tone impossibly haughty, "This woman has been struck with a case of food poisoning and I was simply -- "

"Oh darling!" said woman's husband calls, dashing through the door and getting on his knees. He takes her hand from Dio and clasps it between his own. "You know you're allergic to walnuts, why on earth were you eating so many of them! I've called the paramedics, they'll be here in minutes, thank you very much for helping her to a quiet place, she gets so hysterical when the rashes break out you know..." he stands up, wiping his brow, before pulling out his business card and handing it to Dio. "Thank you very much, again."

It is Dio who escorts Joseph out of the room and back into the downstairs lobby.

"That was a fluke," Joseph insists.

"No apologies necessary," Dio graciously amends.

"Apologies? Don't make me laugh -- who would apologize to you?!" Joseph places a hefty sum of cash to pay for his impromptu trespassing before leading the way out, "Listen, I don't know what you told Grandpa to make him think you've turned a new leaf, but I don't trust you. I've heard stories from other people, that you're as bad as they come, and I wouldn't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"I had expected this," Dio sighs, bottom lip quivering, "And I do understand why you would feel this way. But there's nothing more I can do but apologize and change my behavior."

"Do as you please," Joseph snorts, hailing a cab, "But know this: I'll be watching you. Bad guys always slip up. And when you do, I'll be there. Grandpa seems to like having you around for whatever reason -- but he's a good-hearted fool who let you take his body. It's not your time anymore and it's our world now, so watch out." Then he ducks into the taxi, slamming the car door.

Dio puts on a pleasant face, waving as the cab speeds away. Then he walks along the busy New York streets for a bit, taking in the sights and sounds. There's a prostitute and her pimp in the alleyway, he tests his new body out on them. The girl's blood is as sweet as he remembers it; the man's, not so much. Being out of Jonathan's body is a downgrade, certainly, but the new body does come with a lot of bonuses. As it belonged to a normal human, this body has no resistance to his vampiric essence. Already, it can regenerate and freeze and contort itself in a variety of ways. After some time, he walks back to the hotel, taking a shower to wash the blood from his hair. He spends some time in the bathroom painting his fingers and toes; tracing his lips as well.

He kisses his reflection and laughs. It starts off as a quiet chuckle, before his whole body is shaking with amusement and he's choking on air.

Joseph is right: Dio is lying through his teeth. But he's a seasoned liar, having pulled the wool over the Joestars' eyes for seven years. A couple months is nothing in the grand scheme of things. More importantly however, he does not need to fool Joseph or his brilliant cook of a wife, he only needs to fool Jonathan. Jonathan, who still earnestly believes, who is still a fool through and through. Keeping up the act will be irritating, yes, but no more difficult than ripping heads off of corpses.

Jonathan returns to him the next morning, inviting him to dinner again and again, Dio comes along. It takes a week for Jonathan to readjust, but when he's done, he manages to tweak his sleeping schedule enough to stay awake for half the night. They pass a week like this, having dinner with Joseph and Suzie, going to plays and movies, Jonathan even lets himself be dragged to a casino! At the end of it, Jonathan is practically eating out of his hand (Joseph's wife too, for that matter), though Joseph himself is far from fooled.

He goes along with Dio's charade -- up until a point. And then he ups the ante, explaining how he's been talking with the Speedwagon Foundation about Dio's eating methods and how, after seeing vampires in laboratory conditions, they were relatively certain animal blood could do the trick. Dio readily agrees and goes along with the other Joestar. The Foundation is wary of him, naturally, but he puts up a long enough harmless act that they're soon giving him crates of animal blood. It's sickening to drink of course, but he goes through the motions, and of course Jonathan is there every step of the way, tears in the corner of his eyes.

Jojo is truly a fool, he thinks, throwing another bloodless corpse to the side. He needs to feed outside of the city now, to divert suspicion, but his new body makes long-distance travel a breeze. Combined with The World's abilities, it is as if only a ghost could have committed his crimes.

Come a couple weeks of pretending to drink the supplied blood, and Joseph ups the ante again. This time he says that he'd like to spend more time with both Jonathan and Dio since he was practically retired. Suzie wanted to cook more regularly as well, and a full house would be more fun. So Dio packs up his bags and checks out of the hotel, making himself comfortable in the guest room of another Joestar manor. Jonathan is across the hall from him, Joseph and Suzie are further down, and there's a library, a music room, a miniature ballroom, and a sunroom. The nostalgia is suffocating, but Jonathan is thriving so he grits his teeth and waits.

Weeks bleed into months and they fall into some sort of routine. The four of them share dinner most nights and they watch Broadway performances on Thursdays. Jonathan and Joseph spar every other day; Suzie drags one of them with her to the stores; and Dio takes to trading stocks. He has always had a penchant for making money and he carelessly makes boatloads of it in the downtime. Enya the hag has contacted him once, calmly informing him that she had managed to find more disciples for his cause. He thanks her and listens her stew in his praise before cutting off the call. Although Joseph still doesn't trust him, there's a reluctant camaraderie between the two of them, toward's Jonathan's easygoing ways and Suzie's penchant for extremely frilly decorations. At some point, he even acquiesces to sparring with Joseph -- Vampiric powers against the Ripple yet again -- and he has to admit: the younger Joestar is impressively clever.

Despite not sharing the same room or even a similar sleeping schedule, he and Jonathan have not drifted far, though whether that is through one (or both) of their efforts or the strings of fate, Dio does not know. He spends most of his time in the library with black-out curtains and dim lamps, and when Jonathan comes home from class or sparring or shopping, he greets Dio first. They while away hours in the library, closer than they had been in adolescence. Sometimes Jonathan will read aloud a particularly interesting or humorous passage. Sometimes Dio will recommend a work. Joseph is disgusted of course, and when his own wife joins the makeshift reading club, he whines about being stuck in a house of nerds.

Jonathan and Suzie are catatonic with laughter when Dio presents him with a children's picture book the next day.

The heart does not stray far from what the heart wants though, and when Jonathan starts taking a more than usual interest in the ancient near east, Dio knows it's only a matter of time.

He makes his move the next evening, when Joseph and Suzie are in bed and it is just the two of them in the library. Dio beckons Jonathan closer, showing him a particularly raunchy passage from a fetishist's confessionals and delighting in his reddened expression. Dio knows he will enjoy himself when he leans in for the kiss. He is not wrong, not by any measure. Although Jonathan is as still as stone, his lips are soft and pliant. Dio forgoes opening his mouth in favor of leaning into the embrace. He could lose himself in this moment alone but no, he's waited too long. Starting now, he will drag Jojo to his level.

Sensibility returns to Jonathan and sure enough, he's spasming and spluttering, shaking like a leaf. Dio lets himself be pushed away, schooling his expression into some middle ground between disappointment and desire.

"Dio...! Wh-wh-what was that for?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dio replies, "I want you."

Jonathan takes a step back, closes his eyes, and sinks to the floor.

"Come now Jojo, don't play dumb. Even you must know the basics of bedroom games?"

"Dio," Jojo tries, and there is still that damned earnestness in his eyes, "I love you -- as a brother, as a friend -- and I must apologize if I ever made it seem -- "

"Shut up," Dio amicably says, stilling the other man's lips. "I know what you are going to say. That I am mistaken, that kindness does not need a reason, that I was so close to being reformed..." he chuckles, removing his hand, "Who knows? Perhaps I am on my way to becoming reformed."

A delicious pained expression sinks into Jonathan's face. Dio continues, committing the moment to memory.

"And weren't you the one laughing at me for not knowing love? Well, I am giving you an opportunity to teach me. Wouldn't it honor you, to bestow that sort of knowledge upon I, Dio?"

On his hands and knees, Jonathan continues to hold his gaze.

But because he says nothing, Dio kneels down to be at his height, gently snaking an arm about Jonathan's waist and pulling him close.

"Do not fret," he murmurs, lips pressed against Jojo's clenched throat, "You are thinking of your wife, of course. But surely you know the love between men is a different beast entirely. You are free to decline of course, but I will simply take it as permission to pursue someone else."

When Jojo swallows, Dio can feel the muscles against his mouth. His other hand moves to Jonathan's head, carding through black curls before moving down to stroke his cheek.

"And you can't have that, can you? Think of the innocent passerby. Would you have me wanting for them? Do you think they would survive?"

With characteristic gentleness, Jonathan pushes him away, untangling the two of them before rising to his feet.

"Give me some time," he croaks. His face is bright red.

Their positions reversed, Dio hums noncommittally from the floor.

Instead of making a hasty retreat, Jonathan continues to stand there. His fingers twitch and his feet gravitate towards the door. Silence reigns supreme and still, he stands his ground. Right as Dio is about to pick up his fallen book, Jojo speaks.

"All love is the same."

But Dio hears you're wrong and laughs. He stands up as well, crossing the distance between them and thrilling in Jonathan's reflexive flinch.

"No Jojo," he says with an honest patience, "I am not wrong. There is a love reserved for parents, for children, for family. And then there is the love exclusive for lovers. Your dear Erina might as well be family to you, but as for me?" He draws his hand back and his eyes are dark, beckoning.

"I do not love you as a brother would."

Jojo bolts. Out of the library and out of the house, stairs creaking and doors slamming in his wake. Dio'll have to make up some suitable story for Joseph no doubt. It is a pity Jonathan's Stand is no longer under his control, but he does not need it to predict the other man's actions. Still, there are things outside of his control, such as Jonathan's granddaughter-in-law bursting in fully dressed minutes later. He feels no ill-will towards her; so caught by surprise, Dio tells her where her husband's grandfather has gone without a second thought. Most surprising of all then, is that Joseph does not confront him.

Dio whiles away the rest of the night reading and rereading the same page.

It takes Jonathan an hour to reach the cemetery in the dark, leaping from building to building in his original body. He's visited Erina at least once a week since the switch, talking to her about his day-to-day happinesses. Those visits feel inadequate now, and he does not know what to do. His face is red, his heart is racing, his fingers wouldn't be able to catch a ball much less channel the Ripple, and he kneels over her tombstone and cries.

"Erina, please tell me what to do... I thought... no, I wanted to believe that Dio was a changed man. Do you think it is as Speedwagon said? That he is truly evil, incapable of love? Was my father a fool in trusting him? In sparing his father's life?"

"Erina, I pray that you're happy up there but please -- give me a sign...!"

His questions go unanswered and his tears eventually stop. He curls into himself, leaning against the gravestone, and ends up feeling like a lost and lonely schoolboy. The problem is that everything Dio says makes sense. Jonathan does think the other should learn how to love; he does not think the average person would survive Dio's affections; and somewhere, somewhere deep inside, Dio's words strike a chord in him and he finds himself wanting as well. He should not, he knows, not just because it is a sin, but because he is likely still dancing to the tune of Dio's flute, somehow.

He should not, and yet...

"Let me tell you a story," Suzie murmurs, stepping out from the shadows with a flashlight in-hand. Jonathan gives a yelp of surprise, jumping to his feet. "No, no, there's no need to stand up, come, your hands are freezing," she wraps a blanket around his shoulders.

"You shouldn't be out at this hour, it's improper, I'm sorry -- " Jonathan tries, only to be silenced for a second time that night. Despite being two heads taller, he is pushed down.

"It's a short story, I promise," she adds, winking. Then she sits down next to him and begins:

"Once upon a time, there were two boys. Although they fought and argued at every opportunity, they ended up closer than brothers. They traveled the world, fought side-by-side, and made one another stronger. But they got into a silly fight, as lovers are wont to do, and one of them came back in a casket. The other one returned missing one piece, and he mourned his friend -- still mourns him, even -- but he went on to make me the happiest woman this side of the Atlantic."

She rests her hand on his shoulder, adding softly: "I met Jojo's grandmother many many times. Jojo was scared of her, of course, as only she could scare him, but I believe she lived a good life. She would have wanted you to be happy, to live on, just as Caesar did. Just as you did."

Jonathan colors for a third time.

"But it's not like that..." he tries, but Suzie is already standing up and brushing herself off.

She offers him a hand, effectively cutting him off, and says with a winning smile:

"Let's head back. The cemetery is no place for a gentleman at night, hmm?"

He takes her hand and pushes himself up, removing the blanket and wrapping it about her shoulders.

"Thank you," he sighs, and lets himself be pulled into tomorrow.

Chapter Text

"So you see here," Jonathan explains, pointing to the reverse sketch of the Stone Mask, "After working with the Speedwagon Foundation's archaeological division for the past couple weeks, we've managed to decipher a significant portion of the text carved in the back of the mask. It says... well, the sounding isn't certain, but the logograms mark it to be a central Mayan dialect."

He pauses for dramatic effect and then, remembering that none of his audience had any training in archaeology, plods on.

"Well, that is... one hundred years ago -- "

"When he put the mask on?" Joseph helpfully supplies.

"Jojo!" Suzie chastises.

"What? I'm just pointing out what we're all thinking!"

"Get to the point already," Dio drawls, cutting another slice of roast ham for himself.

"Er, I was actually talking about when my mother bought the mask, but anyways! Back then, the mask was known to be of Mesoamerican origin, but because of the youth of the field, not to mention the comparative ignorance of the antiquities dealer, everything Mesoamerican was thought to be Aztec." He pauses again and again, there is no reaction. "So that's why I had so much trouble deciphering the text, because I was using an Aztec cipher and not a Mayan one."

"That's really interesting Gramps," Joseph lies with a straight face, "But what does it have to do with you leaving so suddenly?"

"I was getting to that," Jonathan laughs, flipping the page over to reveal a zoomed-in drawing of the mask's text, "So the back of the mask reads: 'The fourth mask of the moon / I gift it / to the people / of the stone trees.'"

"No way!" Joseph exclaims, finally giving a reaction. "So, you mean, Cars was the one who wrote on that mask?!"

"It seems like it," Jonathan nods, "The other researchers at the Foundation said that Cars was the one who made them. Since all we have are drawings, I'm afraid we can't do any additional analysis to see if the text was carved significantly after the making of the mask, but as it was discovered before the Mayan language was deciphered..." he shrugs, "I'm inclined to believe it was written by the creator."

"If only you had the mask now," Suzie sighs.

"You should have seen how gleeful he and his little crew were when they finally destroyed it," Dio snipes.

"We were not gleeful," Jonathan insists, "And it's not as if you would have relinguished the mask to further research."

"Of course not," the other agrees.

"But what does this all mean?" Joseph presses. "I mean, isn't it ancient history at this point? I beat Cars, you destroyed the mask, now all we have to do is convert all the vampires into drinking animal blood and everything will be hunky-dory!"

Having caught on to Jonathan's train of thought, Dio laughs.

"What's so funny?" Joseph growls.

"For all your smarts, you're no better than a monkey when real thought is involved."

"Oh?" Joseph crosses his arms, baiting, "So why not enlighten me on the importance of being able to read the back of that decorative rock, oh high and mighty vampire lord?"

"The number itself implies that there are at least three other masks which, knowing your grandfather," he casts a sardonic look at Jonathan here, "Means that he has taken it upon himself to find and destroy its brethren."

"What!" Joseph's brows furrow and he turns to face his grandfather, "Grandpa, you're not planning that are you?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I was planning," Jonathan grins.

"Oh my god..." Joseph rubs at his temples, really feeling his age, "That's a terrible idea. Where do I even begin? No, stop smiling like that! Well first, that mask is at least a thousand years old,"

"Two thousand five hundred," Jonathan helpfully supplies.

"Right. And it was discovered more than a hundred years ago by Caesar's great-grandpa. So even if we assume that the other masks exist and Cars wasn't just pulling a fast one on all of humanity, who's to say where they are now? Actually, let me get back to the second point: why would Cars even make more masks? He just needed one for himself."

"There seem to be two groups of masks actually: there's the prototype group -- those from the Temple of the Sun and the underground lair in Rome -- which can be activated with non-human blood and whose activation leads to instant death, and the secondary group: those that we only have drawings of." Jonathan taps the edge of the sketch, pursing his lips. "I understand that the chance that these masks are still where they are buried are small, but when I finished translating the inscription... no, when I finished the first line of the inscription, it was like a shock went through me."

"And you think this is why you were brought back to life," Dio concludes, curling his lip.

"Yes," Jonathan nods, continuing: "While it's possible the other masks are in someone else's possession, I think it's just as likely that they haven't been discovered."

"Have you talked to the Speedwagon Foundation about this?" Joseph asks.

"Yes and they agreed with my conclusion. In fact," Jonathan pulls out a map of the world with a dozen-odd red dots, "They've looked at the monument the fourth mask was found at, as well as the prototype masks, and concluded that these are the ancient monuments most likely to house a mask."

"So... you'll be looking through all of them?"

"That's the plan."

"Good," Dio yawns, finishing his meal and standing up, "This city has begun to bore me. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow evening," Jonathan replies, pulling out a pair of plane tickets.

"What?!" Joseph exclaims yet again as Dio takes his leave. "Wait, wait, wait -- you're leaving tomorrow?! But it's so sudden! At least stay until Christmas! Suzie, help me out here!"

"Oh I don't know, I think you should settle this yourself," his wife teases, strategically excusing herself to store the leftovers.

Joseph grunts, setting his forehead against the table.

"There, there," Jonathan reassures, patting his grandson's head. Joseph grunts a second time, tilting his head to look Jonathan in the eye.

"You're really going to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"And you won't stay, even if I ask you to?"

"No."

Despite being sixty years older than him, Jonathan manages to retain an air of youth that Joseph can never fully grasp. It's in his unguarded expression: not quite despondent, but certainly past the point of placating. He's being a child he knows, knows that he's lucky enough to be able to meet his grandfather, to say nothing of getting to know him for the past couple months. He is lucky and still, he wants more. But thinking of how long Granny Erina waited for Jonathan makes him count his blessings. And he is grateful, he knows, to have met the man behind the myth. To have had a grandfather in his life, even if he looked so damn young.

"What am I supposed to say when you're looking at me like that?" he sighs, puffing out his cheeks. "Go, go pack then! But tell me some of the Foundation members are coming along to help you."

"Well..." Jonathan scratches his cheek, "They offered, but I respectfully declined."

"What! Why?!"

"Because this is my responsibility."

"So you're going to be traipsing across the world in isolated places with only him as company?!" Joseph concludes, throwing his hands into the air. He sees that Jonathan thinks nothing of the situation and rubs at his temples again. "I'm starting to see what Granny Erina said when she called you a good-hearted idiot. Well at least bring me along! I agree that you shouldn't let non-Ripple users get involved, but surely -- "

"Jojo, you're not retired yet!" Suzie interrupts, peeking out from the hallway.

"Plus you would only get in the way," Dio adds.

"Hey! What happened to giving us some family time! And what do you mean I would only get in the way... at least I'm not going to crumble to dust with the rising sun!"

"What Dio means to say is that you have no archaeological background," Jonathan explains.

"And Dio does?!"

"I've been reading up on it," the vampire sniffs.

When morning rolls around, Joseph is still far from placated. He spends the whole of the next day trying to convince his grandfather that his plan is a Very Bad Idea because, well, it is. To say nothing of being able to locate the masks in the three thousand year (and then some!) interim, the idea of traveling alone with the same guy who had beheaded him a hundred years ago was suicidal in and of itself. But of course Jonathan manages to smile through his grandson's concerns and with Suzie listening in on their conversation, he doesn't even need to refute anything! Joseph ends up taking his grandfather on a final shopping trip, resigned at last, and by the time dusk rolls around, both guests are fully packed. Suzie hugs them both; Joseph gives them a ride to the airport, and right as they're about to pass through security, he grudgingly asks Dio to look out for his grandfather.

As a result of the tilt of the earth and the subsequent changing of seasons, Dio is able to sit through a direct flight to Cairo. The Speedwagon Foundation has booked them a hotel near Giza, but as the plane touches down in the late afternoon, Dio is forced to seek refuge in the airport hotel. Jonathan stays with him without question and they discuss further plans for a couple hours. As Dio has little interest in the archaeological errands Jonathan plans to run, he says he'll make a detour for a bit. If Jonathan suspects it's to return to the riverside manor, he makes no mention of it, simply asks if Dio's detour will take more than a week. Dio shrugs noncomittally and Jonathan does not press the issue.

As night sets in and they prepare to go their separate ways, Dio pulls Jonathan into his lap.

"Kiss me goodbye," he says, fingers toying with a lock of hair.

"Dio...!" Jonathan hisses, face predictably red, "We're in public. Let go of me...!"

"Do you think I care?" he replies. Then he raises an eyebrow, casting a contemplative glance at the whispering passengers nearby. "If it bothers you so much I could avert their gazes."

"Don't you dare," Jonathan whispers, making a move to get up. Dio doesn't let him.

"Make it worth my while," Dio taunts, teeth nipping at Jojo's ear, "And I will be the best ally in your pointless little endeavor."

Jonathan stammers something unimportant and Dio ignores him. He squeezes his eyes shut and gives a quick little peck, practically leaping to his feet right after. His train arrives at the nick of time and he dashes into it, luggage banging against the side of the door.

Left alone on the platform, Dio brushes his fingers against his lips. The touch sends a pleasant tingle down his spine. Although it was a thoroughly unsatisfying kiss, he has already prepared himself to play the waiting game with Jonathan. Although the reversal of roles is a hitch in his plans -- he had planned on dragging Jonathan across the world and not the other way around -- he is glad to be back in Egypt. Here, he has people waiting for him. Here, he does not have to keep up the charade of reformation. Here, he can drink to his heart's content.

Enya the hag cannot see the future as far as he knows, but she might as well be able to with how accurately she predicts his return. When the doors of the manor open to welcome him, she greets him with a procession of nubile young women, dark skinned and dark eyed, and he drinks his fill of them. Then she introduces him to the newest Stand users to serve under his still-nameless cause. He does not even need to manifest The World; they prostrate themselves before him without it. This is what he is used to; this is what things should be like.

Of the newly-inducted Stand users, one in particular stands out to him. His name is Vanilla Ice and although his initial introduction is nothing special, the fanatical devotion he shows towards Dio, to the extent that Enya's fervor pales in comparison, is a welcome reprieve. To illustrate: when Dio is going through their Stands via combat, Vanilla Ice is the last in line. Instead of calling forth his Stand, he falls to his knees and kisses Dio's feet, loudly proclaiming that, as he had no hope of winning against Dio, if there was any worth in fighting against him in the first place. It is flattering, and Dio takes care not to kill him when he forces Ice to manifest his Stand.

Vanilla Ice's devotion is made all the more valuable when he does display the full potential of his Stand in a match against another underling. Dio is suitably impressed upon seeing Cream's abilities, and accepts Ice's gifts and trinkets, taking him to bed soon after. Green really is his color, Dio concludes, when he's thrusting into the other while admiring his new set of accessories. Vanilla Ice is tight but not tense and though this is likely his first time, he insists that Dio go in dry. Dio does not mind; the blood turns him on further.

"I was empty until I met you," the other man gasps before him, and Dio smiles, pleased. He strokes Ice's bleak-white hair afterwards and thinks of how fucking Jonathan would be like. Markedly different no doubt, as Jonathan would need to be petted and coddled like the spoiled child he still was. Though it is part of the act, and a piece of the grand scheme, Dio finds he does not mind the idea. A practice in the art of kindness then. Would Jonathan appreciate it? Probably not; so different was his experience in love that all he could offer was light kisses and lighter touches.

The thought of gently bringing Jonathan to orgasm makes him hard again and Vanilla Ice sucks him off without prompting.

As a result of morbid curiosity, he has some of the Stand users fire their guns at him the next evening. He does not need to move a finger; The World intercepts the bullets for him. Is that the extent of his Stand's ability, Dio finds himself wondering. Although he was quite taken with its speed and dexterity in the beginning, especially when compared to Jonathan's non-combatative Stand, now that he has seen a wider array of possibilities, he finds his Stand arguably inferior. What good was speed when your soul could be gambled away? What good was dexterity when your body could be erased from existence? He has won against all his subordinates, but the margin is not wide enough.

Domination is his aim.

Again and again, he orders the barrage of bullets until, when twenty-five of them are shooting at him, he thinks he sees them stop for a fraction of a second.

It is an optical illusion, he thinks at first. A spectacle similar to when that Ripple user had created duplicates of himself from speed alone.

And yet, something tells him that it is not all illusion. It takes five more tries before he confirms it. For whatever reason, his Stand did have a secondary ability.

The World can stop time.

Judging from Enya's reaction to his slicing up of twenty-five bullets, even she did not know of this. It's for less than half a second at this point, but in using it, he feels himself stretching muscles he didn't know existed. They can be stretched further, he realizes.

He needs to practice, but more than that, he needs power.

Dio takes his leave after three nights at the manor. Enya is disappointed in him, but she knows better than to voice it. Although he considers it beneath him, he explains that he needs more power and for that, he must go elsewhere. Vanilla Ice begs to go along; Dio refuses him and he does not ask again.

He arrives in Jonathan's hotel room in the dead of the night. The other man has been busy with charts and maps and dead language dictionaries, by the looks of his desk. He cards his fingers through Jonathan's hair, kissing his brow.

Jojo stirs then, eyes opening.

"Dio...?" he asks, reaching out.

Dio allows his face to be touched, tilting his head so his lips brush against Jonathan's palm. He breathes in and thinks of how alike they are: that they both believe in fate, in meaning and in reason. He believes there is a reason he was given such an awe-inspiring Stand in the same way Jonathan believes in there being a reason for his revival.

Vanilla Ice's confession comes to mind and he finds the words rolling off his tongue.

Their reasons are diametrically opposed -- opposite sides of the same coin.

But this time, Jonathan will end up on his side.

Chapter Text

Cohabitating with Dio has always been a bit of pain -- this, Jonathan knows better than anyone. It's not even that the other has no idea about basic life skills like cooking or cleaning and instead spends all his time reading and grooming, but that he's always been the leader. It's always been his way or the high way, from their shared adolescence to the present day, and Jonathan doesn't know why he thought things would have changed. To be fair, he has been a nonparticipant for so long -- first a head and then a shadow of his former self -- that he can understand Dio's expectations. But where archaeology is concerned? Jonathan feels he has every right to lead.

Which is why it's a headache and a half explaining to Dio that times have changed and there are rules and regulations to excavations, even one-off endeavors like his. There's applications and petitions and government-sponsored forms and they need to go through all that before the Egyptian government will grant them access to its only surviving ancient wonder. Dio calls him an idiot for needing to live within the law -- needing to live within the law of foreign countries at that -- but Jonathan sees no need to retort. What is there for him to say to Dio after all -- Dio, who relished in living outside the law? There is no magical phrase that will turn the other man to his side, that will let him see the light in doing things the right way, and so Jonathan files his request without further comment.

Being in constant contact with Joseph and the Speedwagon Foundation helps though their long-distance phone calls are filled with static and their telegraph transmissions are curt. But they provide him with additional information (like the average processing time of a successful application being four months) and a library pass for the nearby university (which comes with an impressive archaeological section), as well as securing bribes on the side.

After two weeks of living in the hotel, the Foundation transfers the two of them to a more private apartment complex situated a stone's throw away from Cairo University's Archaeology Library. Dio surprises him by tagging along; within days he's signed up as an affiliate student and taking night classes in Arabic. He is extremely popular of course, being the only blond in his class of fifty-seven, but as his class does not shrink, Jonathan does not involve himself.

Even situated as the star student yet again, Dio manages to fit into Jonathan's life at that uncomfortable angle. Knowing Dio, it is definitely on purpose. Although Jonathan takes care to keep away from other students, sitting in the farthest corner from the most popular materials, it is still a university library and people are never far. Dio doesn't care of course; he wraps his arm around Jonathan's shoulder, tangling his fingers in his hair. And when Jonathan turns his head, Dio just laughs. His hot tongue laps against Jonathan's ear and Jonathan tries to convince himself that Dio will lose interest, that things will get better with time. They don't. If anything, Dio grows bolder with each day, eventually sneaking his hand inside Jonathan's pants while they're sitting side-by-side.

Jonathan stands up then. His face is red, no doubt, but at least he's not hard. He tells Dio in no uncertain terms that the library is for education and education alone.

Dio doesn't come home that night.

As is Dio's nature, he cannot keep the peace for long. Indeed, when Jonathan opens the apartment door the next evening, he knows immediately the other has returned. He flicks on the light to find Dio lounging on the couch. There's an assortment of shopping bags on the floor: more trifles for Jonathan to clean up. Dio looks up from his newly-bought toy, straightening out and beckoning Jonathan over.

He brings up the trinket; it seems to be a large ballpoint pen.

"Do you recognize this?" he asks.

"No."

"Figures." Dio twirls it a little before throwing it. Jonathan catches it and holds it up to the light, scrutinizing.

"Is it food?" he asks.

Dio chokes on laughter.

"No," he finally says, "But it is supposed to go inside of you."

"Inside of me?" Jonathan repeats.

"Must everything be spelled out for you Jojo?" Dio sighs, rolling his eyes. "You stick it up your ass."

Jonathan stares.

"Don't look so horrified. Surely your bowels have passed larger movements."

Jonathan continues to stare.

Dio rolls his eyes again. "What are you waiting for? Stick it in."

With measured movements, Jonathan sets the dildo down. Then he goes to his bed and lies down.

Dio's fingers twitch. It is very tempting to take Jonathan without any preparation; he was practically asking for it after all. But no he reminds himself, he needs to go through the motions of kindness. So he gets off the couch and sits on the side of Jonathan's bed, reaching a hand out to comb through his hair. Jojo smacks his hand away though and for a second, Dio sees red. He collects himself immediately, evening out his snarl.

"Jojo," he starts, tone gentle, "I know you are disgusted at the idea, but I can promise you it will feel extremely good at the end."

"How would you know?" Jonathan shoots back.

"Because I've been doing research for the past couple days. For the least amount of pain, proper acclimation is important, wouldn't you agree?"

Jonathan says nothing.

Slowly, he feels Dio's fingers creep back into his hair. This time, he does not throw them off. And when Dio leans in close, alarmingly warm breaths puffing against his ear, he cannot tune out the other man's words.

"Jojo," Dio murmurs, fingers massaging his scalp, "You must have known this would happen. You accepted my affections, after all." You should be grateful, he keeps from saying, Do you think I put in this much effort for anyone else? Do you think I care about comfort and pleasure when it comes to this sort of thing? He does not though, going on to say, "Come now, get up. I'll let you go to sleep right after and I promise it won't hurt."

"Don't treat me like a child," Jonathan sighs.

"Then don't act like one. Come on, get up. Yes, that's it."

With staggered movements, Jonathan sits up. His cheeks are glowing and he cannot look Dio in the eye. Dio laughs again, leaning down to gift a chaste kiss before helping him onto his hands and knees. All four of his limbs are trembling when Dio pulls off his lower garments and no amount of kindness can override the trepidation. Dio gets to work then, pulling out a bottle of lubricant and squirting some on his fingers. The foreign sound makes Jonathan turn around, but then he feels Dio's finger brushing against the outermost ring of muscle and he keels forward, burying his face in a pillow.

"It's alright if you're embarrassed," Dio smiles, already half-hard. He pushes his finger in, smile widening at Jonathan's muffled squeal. "Try to relax... don't clench up..." he hums, digging deeper inside. As expected, Jonathan is extremely tense. He only manages to work two-thirds of his index finger in before he is forced to stop. Dio sighs, having expected as much, and pulls his finger out. "I'm going to put it inside now," he announces, coating the toy with lubricant, "Do you have any preference?"

"Prefer -- wha -- ah...!"

"Sorry," Dio grins, completely unabashed, "My fingers must have slipped. You know how it is, petroleum jelly and all."

Jonathan gives a broken warble of Dioooo; it is music to his ears.

He plays his role of gentleman to the end: while he's pulling the other man's briefs back up, he refrains from copping a feel. He even stretches Jonathan out, rolls him over, takes off his outer garments, and tucks him in. By the time Dio is kissing his forehead, Jonathan's breaths have finally evened out.

"Does it hurt?" Dio asks.

"...Not really."

"See?" Dio preens, "You should be more trusting."

"But I can definitely feel it."

"Is that so?" Dio pops into the bathroom to wash his hands before rummaging through his other purchases. "I'm sure you'll be fine after a week."

"A week?!"

"Yes, that was the recommended time period. I'll help you take it out at the end of it."

"Wh-wh-what about the washroom?" Jonathan hisses, nearly hysterical.

Dio pauses, having genuinely forgotten. His own body did not have such needs after all. Then he shrugs, chuckling, "I suppose I can help you with that too."

"Dio...!"

"You should thank me for being so generous. I'm giving you four weeks to acclimate, as opposed to four seconds."

There's a brief silence as the implication of Dio's assurance sinks in. And then Jonathan is all thrashing limbs and gnashing teeth and Dio is laughing, kissing him yet again.

"What do you mean four weeks?! Dio...! Aaargh!!"

In the first week, Jonathan thinks he will die of shame. Although it really is a small thing, he can feel it with every step. Suddenly, his never-used library card is maxed out and he's bringing a half-dozen books back to the apartment and getting strange looks for photocopying reference-only volumes. It's a blessing that he does not have class because the idea of sitting through a lecture, even on a subject as fascinating as the invention of the written word, would be unbearable in his current state. And then there is Dio, swaggering in at every opportunity. He coos and kisses and calls Jonathan a variety of sweet names, helping him in and out of the washroom and Jonathan seriously considers drowning himself in the toilet bowl.

At the end of the week, when Dio's revealing the next stage in acclimation, Jonathan considers declining. In his own body, he could overpower the other. But he wears his heart on his sleeve and Dio can see his plan a mile away. He knows Jonathan too well, knows that he need only feign the slightest interest in his classmates, such young and helpless little things, so utterly enamoured with him, and Jonathan grits his teeth, disrobing from the waist down without a word.

Admittedly, Jonathan has won one major victory in this timeframe: he has gotten Dio to promise that, in the course of the acclimation, he will not progress further. No kisses, no touches, and certainly no heavy petting. And in between washroom duty, his own classes, and sneaking off to feed, Dio has little time to relieve himself.

By the time the fourth week rolls around, they're both at the end of their respective ropes. For Dio, it's a matter of building tension with no relief. For Jonathan, it's a matter of size.

"I can't..." he moans, twisting this way and that. "It won't fit. Please stop, Dio, I can't!"

Dio is in no mood to accommodate though; he pulls out the current anal plug and replaces it with a noticeably larger one. Jojo's ass clenches and he suspects it is as tight as ever.

"One more week," he says, and it's as much for himself as it is for Jonathan.

But of course, Jojo would not be Jojo without disrupting Dio's plans, especially plans involving him. Jonathan tosses and turns throughout the night, whimpering well into the dawn. Dio throws his blankets off then, but the instinctual reprimand dies down in his throat. Jonathan's eyes are swollen with unshed tears; his skin is sticky with sweat and his hair sticks out in all directions. Something akin to pity wells up in Dio's chest and he turns the other man around yet again, coating his fingers with lubricant before slowly easing the offending object out. With the curtains drawn tightly and the apartment lights turned on, he sees that it is a large plug indeed. Not the largest they had in stock -- certainly shorter than his own cock and slimmer than Jonathan's if memory served correct -- but enough to cause a veritable amount of discomfort.

Jonathan makes a move to turn over and although Dio tries to stop him, he's not firm enough. He ends up gasping at the sudden soreness, quickly flipping back onto his stomach.

While Dio is coming through his hair as a makeshift apology, Jonathan suddenly tilts his head up, looking Dio in the eye.

"I don't understand," he starts, "How do other people find that pleasurable? Do you like it?"

Dio freezes with the comb in-hand. The cogs in his brain are stuck as he realizes there is no right answer. More than that though, he realizes that this is an opportunity and if he plays his cards right, he could --

"Could you show me?" Jonathan interrupts, setting his head back down.

"Show you what?" Dio asks, mechanically continuing to comb.

"Nevermind," Jonathan mumbles.

For a couple moments, silence reigns supreme. Then Dio picks up the pace once more.

"Sodomy, you mean?" He quips. If his heart was still beating, it would probably be racing. As it is, his breath catches in anticipation.

"Don't say it like that..." Jonathan groans, raising his hands to cover his ears.

"But you want me to show it to you," Dio prods.

"Only if you like it," Jonathan steals a glance upwards, cheeks still pink, "I mean, maybe I'm doing something wrong."

For a long time, Dio simply stares. He understands what Jonathan is asking of him, as well as the other's poor grasp of sexual terminology, but this specific request... well, even for him it is uncharted territory. Later on, he'll toss it aside to any number of reasons: his frustration, his curiousity, his knee-jerk reaction to be everything in Jonathan's world, but at the moment, one reason remains. He wants this, he wants more and if this is the only way he'll have Jojo now, he will have Jojo -- now.

He drops the comb and leans down to kiss Jonathan then, all open mouthed and tangling tongues and grinding teeth. He forces Jojo up and off of the bed, stealing the breath from his mouth, and picking up the half-empty third bottle of lubricant and popping the top open.

"I'll show you something better," he murmurs, breaking the kiss. He strips without ceremony and when he fingers himself, his breath hitches. Dio is not one to waste time though, he grabs Jonathan's fingers with his spare hand, coating them in lubricant as well. Then he removes his own hand, pushing Jonathan's lower garments from his knees to his ankles before wrapping his legs around Jonathan's waist.

"Put your fingers in me," he instructs, "No, not one -- two at least."

"Dio, are you sure about this...?" Jonathan tries, looking especially squeamish.

"Don't be a child," Dio snarls, snaking forward to nip the other man's collarbone. Jonathan winces at the drawing of blood but he does not protest further. He fingers Dio obediently, even scissoring correctly when Dio explained the motion. When he inserts a third finger, it just feels like a further intrusion, but Dio is determined to see this through.

The sight of Jonathan's still-limp member is hindrance, but he will not allow it to remain that way for long.

He quickly unhooks his legs and pushes Jonathan's hand away, trailing his mouth down to lap against Jonathan's nipples. Having been celibate up until his wedding night means that Jonathan is still a bundle of nerves. He gasps in surprise, but quickly pushes his hand into his mouth, a futile effort to muffle his moans. Dio pulls back momentarily, only to give his attentions to the left nipple. His hand darts down and he grins when his fingers wrap about Jonathan's still-thickening cock. His mouth works for a couple moments more as his hand glides along the shaft, eventually cupping the balls. Jonathan is fully hard at this point, tip leaking and whole frame quivering. His fingers are tightly wrapped in Dio's hair and for a moment, Dio is tempted to make him come like this.

The moment ends and he removes his hands, pulling his head away from Jonathan's grasp in order to fully lean back against the bed.

"Come, Jojo," he murmurs, looping his legs over Jonathan's shoulders.

Jonathan, unfortunately, is a gentleman through and through. Even with a throbbing erection he stops altogether, fretting over his partner's comfort, their pleasure. It is only when Dio snaps I did not open myself up to be kissed that he lines his dick up and slowly presses in.

It hurts, and it is not a pleasant sort of pain. But Dio refuses to be coddled and kissed -- refuses to lower himself to Jonathan's level -- and so he grits his teeth and waits out the pain. This doesn't stop Jonathan from coddling and kissing him through it though, the aforementioned light kisses and lighter touches coming into play.

"Dio," Jonathan murmurs, pulling him from yet another reverie. "Dio, does it hurt?"

"Of course it doesn't," he lies, eyes flashing red, "Why would you ask something so useless?"

"But you're -- "

"You're just seeing things," he tightens his hold on Jonathan's shoulder then, pulling the other all the way in, "Now move your hips. Faster, yes -- yes, just like -- "

Jonathan is a thrice-damned bastard; he somehow manages to get Dio off without touching his prick. Dio sees white and doesn't remember anything of the aftermath. Jonathan must have pulled out, must have cleaned them both up, probably took a shower, probably didn't think much of it, definitely went to sleep in his own bed, and Dio finds that he wants out and away. He leaves the second the sun sets, racing across the buildings and into the desert. His body is no longer human so it is not sore, but something feels wrong nonetheless. Of course Jojo would be the first to truly fuck him; of course Jojo wouldn't come from it. He was probably thinking of his dead wife the whole time, he probably would have fucked her wrinkled corpse if he had been there to see it.

Dio hates him then with a clarity that turns everything else into a blur.

He spent four weeks preparing Jonathan to be fucked; six months trying to revive him; three more to find him a suitable body... and for what? A disproportionately good but ultimately unsatisfying round of sex? A renewed amount of familiarity and frustration?

He does not want to think about it, does not want to think about Jojo, so he pushes the other out of his mind, running, and running further still.

It's been a month and a half since he's left the manor; in the wake of his absence, Enya and Vanilla Ice have recruited even more Stand users. There are now some twenty-odd people shuffling in and out of the mansion. Dio arrives without explanation, going into his room and shredding off his clothes. He takes pleasure in putting on the skin-fitting black top, yellow pants, and neon green hearts. He is no university student; he is no pampered heir. He has clawed his way out of the shadows and he will claw himself back into them, Jonathan Joestar and his meddling inclinations be damned.

Vanilla Ice is ecstatic at Dio's return and his fanaticism has only grown. He kisses Dio's hand, his fingers, the edge of his pointed boots, effortless worshipping every inch of his body. He brings Dio wine and women and sometimes they share both.

The soul-snatching Stand user Dio met last time turns out to have a brother with a similar ability. His brother is less of a gambler and more of a collector though; he is appointed butler of the manor by Enya. Between the D'Arby brothers, Enya, and Vanilla Ice, Dio finds he has a potent group -- and more than enough Stands to practice against. And so he passes a month, reading, lounging, feeding, fucking... training with The World, sharpening his own senses, following up on his Stand's special ability. There are some days when he saps himself of energy so completely that he cannot move. Those days are the worst; when his body isn't moving, when he's not concentrating on stretching out the time stop, that's when he has time to think.

One day, however, when he's managed to stop time for five seconds and it is like the whole world is in his hands, he realizes that Jonathan must think he has run away. Perhaps he had in some sense, but not out of fear. The thought of Jonathan having the last laugh... of Jonathan destroying the remaining Stone Masks and going on to live with his descendents... a familiar sickness curls in his chest and he finds his fervent hatred renewed.

When he's leaving the mansion yet again, Dio knows what he wants. He wants Jonathan unable to stand, Jonathan brought to orgasm again and again, Jonathan impaled on his cock.

It is times like these that Dio wonders why he bothers planning... no, why he bothers wanting at all. Because he goes back expecting to find Jonathan with his papers and books or better yet sleeping, and is instead greeted with a miserable person underneath a blanket who can't possibly be Jonathan because Jonathan is sunshine and stupid smiles, not ragged breaths and hallowed-out cheeks.

Dio is a fool, thinking that Jonathan would be so affected by his absence.

"Oh," Jonathan says, looking up only after Dio has washed the grime from his hair, "You came back."

"What do you mean 'oh', you idiot? How long were you planning on lying like that if I didn't return?!"

"You don't understand, it's -- "

"I can read just fine actually," Dio thunders and his anger is palpable, "I told you it was a useless effort. What's the point in getting permission in this sort of endeavor? You wasted months out here and for what? A rejection?"

"You're not an archaeologist," Jonathan retorts, "I don't expect you to understand."

"Only a fool would understand you." Dio stands up, tossing the other a towel, "Why was your application rejected?"

"I don't have a valid national identity," Jonathan laughs, leaning against the sink to dry himself. "Because Jonathan Joestar is over one hundred years old and he's been declared dead, I've been called a forgery."

Dio snorts, helping himself to a glass of wine.

"So what will you do now?" he asks.

"I don't know..." Jonathan admits, burying his face in his hands, "I haven't told Joseph or the Foundation Associate about this. On one hand, I completely understand -- even I think my existence is ridiculous at points! But on the other hand..." he groans, tilting forward to rest his head against the glass.

"Don't do that," Dio warns, "You'll get sick."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

Jonathan laughs again, sliding to the floor.

"I was so certain that this was why I was brought back," he starts, "I thought that if I went through the right channels and waited patiently, they would let me start a one-off excavation."

Dio heaves him up and throws him back onto the bed. Jonathan kicks him in chest; he staggers long enough for Jonathan land a barrage of punches.

"Why do I bother with you?!" Jonathan shouts, and of course he's tearing up again.

"How dare you!" Dio roars, sending the other flying into the wall. "I should be the one saying that!"

They are two halves of a whole: just as only Jonathan can bring Dio to his knees, likewise, only Dio can send Jonathan into a frenzied rage. Their fight is a defensive flurry of guards and blocks mixed with half-hearted fists. But because it is night and Jonathan has evidently cooped himself indoors for some time, Dio gains the upper hand with relative ease. He nails Jonathan against the wall, sinking his fingers into Jonathan's neck. The carotid vein is warm and so very familiar.

He could do it, he thinks. Cut it now. Or better yet, make Jonathan a vampire.

"Dio," Jonathan gasps, "I'm tired."

With a disgusted grunt, Dio throws him against the bed once more. This time, Jonathan makes no move to get up.

"Your key mistake," he says, "Was in thinking like an archaeologist. Don't fool yourself Jojo, you were never one and this was never about archaeology."

When Dio wakes the next evening, he is greeted with the sight of Jonathan in what is obviously excavation attire. There's a variety of supplies scattered about the floor and Jonathan drops two flashlights when Dio sits up.

"I thought about what you said," he grins, "And you're right. There's too much at stake here to stop now." And then he scratches his head, looking away for shame, "I was wondering if you still wanted to -- "

Dio steals the words from his mouth. He thinks of fucking Jonathan in the dust-filled tombs buried under metric tonnes of sand, and smiles.

"To have expected otherwise is useless," he answers.

Chapter Text

"Classes again?" Joseph groans, and Jonathan can almost see him rubbing at his temples. "Didn't you have enough of that in New York? And wouldn't you learn faster here?"

"Well, I spend most of my time in the library," Jonathan admits, "And most of the literature is in French and Italian."

"Eh? Italian, really?"

"Mmm. Something about luck of the draw during a war."

"Huh. Probably the second one then." Joseph pauses, speaking to someone a ways off, "So everything's peachy then?"

"Peachy?"

"You know, good."

"Oh -- yes!" Jonathan laughs and it comes off as slightly strained, "I'm sorry for leaving with such a minimal plan... I had forgotten how long archaeological permits took to process."

"Damn right you should be sorry..." his grandson growls, "We missed you for New Year's and Christmas! And of course that coldhearted daughter of mine didn't come home -- damn the Japanese! -- and my own grandson is going to be old enough for porn and he still doesn't know my face..." Joseph anguishes further about how he should have been more protective, should have told his daughter to never talk to foreigners, and so forth, before ending with: "But this Christmas, I don't care if you've found all the masks or not, you are hauling your ass back to New York and helping me with the leftovers!"

"Will there be leftovers in one year?"

"Hah! You haven't seen Suzie go all-out yet. I'm telling you... the woman could cook for an army, if only they'd let her..." he drops his voice then, "So... what's he up to now?"

"Ah, well..." Jonathan guiltily glances over at Dio's side of the room. His bed has been empty for more than a week. But he can't tell Joseph that, especially as Joseph would ask why and there were just some things family shouldn't be privy to. "He's taking night classes for Arabic right now. His classmates like him, and I'm sure he's doing well!"

"A bookworm like him? Yeah, I could see that. Ahem, listen Gramps," Joseph clears his throat, "Respect your elders and all that I know, but I'll tell you again: don't get too comfortable with him."

"I -- "

"I know you're going to say you know, but here you are, living in close quarters with the guy who ruined your honeymoon -- no, your life -- and only gave you back your body because he couldn't use it anymore. If you don't believe me, okay fine, I wasn't there for any of it, but you'll agree with Uncle Speedwagon right? He always said that Dio was the incarnation of evil, that there was nothing he wouldn't stoop to doing for power."

Jonathan feels his stomach sink.

"I know," he repeats, clutching the phone a little tighter. "I believe in Speedwagon, yes, but I also believe in you."

"Tch. Don't placate me Grandpa, I'm not that old yet. You've got a good heart I know..." he sighs, no doubt shaking his head, "Well, do what you need to do and believe in him all you want. Just don't be too disappointed when it turns out tiger stripes don't fade."

"If you have any time," Jonathan advises, "Fly to Japan. I'm sure your daughter misses you too."

"Oh man, not you too... okay, I'm hanging up now. Stay safe and let us know when the permit is approved. Ah, and Suzie says... what! No, I'm not going to tell him that! What do you mean why not, he's my grandpa! No, you're not going to tell him that -- bye Gramps!"

Jonathan is left standing with the cut line buzzing in the background. He hangs up the phone too, going back to his charts and maps. Joseph speaks sense, he knows. To live in close quarters with Dio was dangerous, not just because the other was a sociopath, but because he was abnormally good as manipulating other people. How many times had Jonathan been fooled in his youth -- how many times had Dio shed a couple crocodile tears and gotten him to acquiesce? The memories of torment and abuse come flooding back, leaving him all the more confused. It was true that his body was not ideal for Dio, but it did not mean that Dio needed to give it back. Likewise, while their destinies were intertwined, he doubts he would have been revived without Dio having a hand in it.

He wants to believe he was revived in order to finish what he started. But what if it was as Joseph had alluded to -- that the Stone Masks were merely a part of the reason? What if Dio was at the end of all things... would he be able to find it in himself to kill him a fourth time?

He finds himself thinking of Dio's expression from a week prior, when they had... well.

Strangely enough, that expression had brought him back to the first time they had really clashed. Beating Dio in a match of fisticuffs had felt so good, part adrenaline rush part vengeance and all satisfaction, and then he had seen the other boy's tearful face and his father's words had really hit home. Dio was wearing a similar expression when he asked Jonathan to put the handcuffs on... and that night when they did the deed, Jonathan thinks he had seen something similar.

It is not unguarded; no, Dio is never entirely unguarded. But it is something resembling hopelessness, a muted despair that Jonathan has never been able to feel.

Although it is probably another one of Dio's machinations, he finds himself feeling a renewed bout of sympathy for the other. He was probably lying when he was talking about love, yes, but Jonathan still felt it was his responsibility to show Dio its potential. At the end of the day, he knows he is a romantic; more comfortable in simplifying the world and assuming others were like him. Perhaps Dio could have found his own Erina had he not become a vampire. But as it is, there is only him.

He throws himself into learning the Egyptian hieroglyphic script then, dabbling slightly in Deimotic to boot, and just like that, a month passes. And still, there is no sign of Dio. Joseph calls him again and Jonathan admits that he has no idea where Dio's been for the past month; his grandson says good (or rather, 'the less time spent with that guy the better'). The permit request is still being processed and he finds himself more and more distracted. One day, he gives in: he faces the mirror and activates his Stand, watching the ghostly vines creep into the glass.

Closing his eyes, he concentrates on Dio. What is he doing, where is he right now, is he alright?, and the mirror reflects all.

Dio is on the edge of a four-poster bed in a familiar candlelit room being sucked off by a man with long white hair.

Jonathan freezes, unable to look away. Even though the image lasts for only a few seconds, he can see that Dio treats this person differently from the nameless strangers he takes in dingy dance halls. Sensing the distress of its master, his Stand retracts, terminating the vision prematurely in order to wrap about him. This knowledge should not upset him: he knows that Dio has had many partners, knows that he will continue to have them. And wasn't it a good thing that he wasn't sucking the person's blood afterwards? He should be relieved, he chides, because Dio is not in any danger, not uncomfortable at all.

Two days after Dio had left without a word, one of his nighttime classmates approached Jonathan in the library, asking if he knew where his roommate went. Jonathan had honestly said no and wondered, not for the first time, what it was about Dio that made people want to rearrange their lives for him.

Now, a month and some days after, he finds that he still does not know.

He takes to training his Stand then, in part because he's running out of books in languages he knows how to read. Hermit Purple, as Dio has informed him of its name, is different from Dio's Stand in that it has neither face nor frame. He finds that it is able to support his weight, though he is especially exhausted after using it to pull himself onto the roof. It is also a decent conductor of the Ripple; worse than a real rose of course, but somewhere between water and air. Initially, Jonathan thinks that it exclusively read memories, yet the incident with Dio's whereabouts had proved otherwise. Experimentally, he asks it to flip the dictionary to a certain page; it complies without trouble. Questions of the future go without response, along with anything of the ancient past. It is a Stand of "knowledge" then, he concludes, in the sense that it can tell him anything about the present.

When he unfurls his map of the world with sixteen possible mask locations, his Stand slithers forth, picking off ten labels and leaving six. Egypt, Iraq, India, China, Peru, and Guatemala. His mother's mask had been the fourth one in the set; if fate is as he suspects it to be, the other five will be resting as well. That there were six masks total is slightly unexpected, but then, one for each cradle of civilization makes sense. He goes to sleep dreaming with slight envy of not having lived in that time.

All is not as it should be, he discovers the next day, when a letter from the office of culture arrives detailing in no unclear terms the resounding rejection of his excavation application.

He can understand their reasons and in fact, curses himself. There were so many things he should have done differently. He should not have thought it would be so easy, should not have relied so much on the Speedwagon Foundation, should have asked his grandson to refer him to a specialist. He should have gotten a more reasonable confirmation of identity -- changed his name, even! -- because who would believe him to be one hundred and twenty years old? He should not have cooped himself up in the library for so long, he should have tagged along with Dio and learnt some basic Arabic.

What with the crippling language barrier, he realizes he is unable to argue his case.

Four months of waiting gone down the drain. And even if he applied a second time under a different name, he would need to make a separate set of reasons to distinguish himself... to say nothing of another four month long wait. He should call the Speedwagon Foundation; he should let Joseph know. But he finds he can't; discovers that moving from couch to bed is too much of an effort.

When Dio returns at the worst possible time, as if his nature, Jonathan cannot say if it's been hours or days since receiving the letter. He feels himself pulled up and off the bed, and it's only when Dio is splashing water on his hair that he realizes it is not a waking dream.

It is in wordless confrontation, mindless violence, and Dio that he is brought to his senses. And he realizes that no, it is not about archaeology. There are more important things at stake than following the rules and he has been given a second chance to finish what his teacher had started.

Joseph will call him an idiot as Dio has already done, but the most difficult part is reaching the obvious conclusion. Between his natural athletic prowess and Dio's vampiric additions, the handful of security guards outside the rear entrance are child's play. And once they're inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, a flashlight combined with Purple Hermit leads them this way and that. As the books had said, the pyramids were far from empty, even when stripped of all valuables. There are traps, both purposeful and accidental, but they are meant to deter normal humans. Jonathan doesn't even use the Ripple; Dio doesn't even summon his Stand -- they manage to make it to the uppermost chamber relying on their above-average capabilities.

And there, as his own Stand pointed out, is the first Stone Mask. It is covered in cobwebs and dust, wedged in a specially-cut cranny between two enormous slabs of stone, but the four-lined inscription in hieroglyphic script marks it as the one.

The two of them hurry out, going down the same way they came up, and by the time they return to the apartment, there is still an hour before daybreak. Jonathan gets to work then, taking pictures and sketching up a frenzy. As he's told Dio, the sooner the mask is destroyed, the better. Dawn comes and with it, the day. By the time night falls again, Jonathan has a set of photographs from all eighteen signficant angles as well as a sketch of the side, obverse, and reverse. He has also transcribed, transliterated, and translated the hieroglyphics carved in the back, though a second pair of eyes -- especially from a specialist at the Foundation -- would be prudent.

"The first mask of the moon," he reads aloud, "I gift it to the people of the sand and sun."

"Is that all it says?" Dio asks, peering over his shoulder.

"It matches the inscription that we have," Jonathan replies, too happy to be wary.

"Hn." He plucks the mask from Jonathan's hand, cutting his wrist open yet again to splash some blood on the stone. As expected, it springs to life, dagger-sharp needles protruding from the edges. "With an invention like this, you figure its creator would give instructions..." he mutters, looking at the familiar expression carved within.

Like one hundred years prior, the mask is a great temptation.

He hands it back to Jonathan without reluctance though, watching the other man smash it without ceremony.

It crumbles to rubble between fist and table and it is only with willpower that Dio keeps from flinching -- so brilliant is Jonathan's Ripple.

"Two down," he notes, raising an eyebrow.

"And four more to go," Jonathan finishes.

They share a bottle of wine, sitting in a companionable silence for the better part of the evening.

Chapter Text

"Your attempts at subtlety are best left for your grandson," Dio notes when they are en-route to Iraq two weeks later.

"Subtlety?" Jojo repeats, blinking.

"I'm telling you to say what you're thinking," Dio clarifies, rolling his eyes.

"Nothing much." A pause, "I was just wondering what you were doing for the past two weeks."

"Not satisfied with the souvenir I got you?" Dio asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no, I like it very much," Jonathan starts, eyes darting to glance at the replica papyrus Dio had gotten him. "Where did you get it anyway? It looks authentic. Not that it is, I mean!"

"Oh here and there," Dio vaguely replies, waving his hand, "You'd be surprised with the things they sell in stalls there, especially when they think you don't know the language."

"So... they were trying to cheat you?"

"In a sense. Now, what makes you think that scroll is authentic?"

Dio's question sends Jonathan into a tangent on the quality of the paper, not to mention the extremely fine print. Suitably distracted, Jonathan does not pursue his original train of thought. Dio feigns interest, tracing the tensing and relaxing of the other man's jaw. He does not say that the papyrus is a genuine product swiped from the antiquities market for a pretty penny. In all fairness, the money he had made off of stock trading in New York meant that most purchases were pennies for him. Still, he had made sure the manor and its inhabitants would want for little in his absence, stocking up on blood in preparation for the extended drought. Vanilla Ice has asked to come along with him and Dio has declined a second time. He is, in his own way, quite fond of the other man's single-track simplicity; unfortunately, his greatest strength is also his key failing: he has no ambitions outside of serving Dio and thus there is no room for him in the grand scheme of things.

In the meantime, he has managed to extend The World's special ability to six seconds. Unfortunately, it is extremely draining on his body, and even his Stand seems to be affected. He needed two full feedings before the exhaustion left completely -- feedings that will not be available in their next destination. On the plus side, stopping time for a second or two is barely noticeable; he suspects he can do it indefinitely with only a couple minutes in between. It is truly a marvelous ability, even after Jonathan has sharpened his own Stand's special ability and even though Jonathan is still a Ripple maestro in every sense, Dio knows he'll win before the fight's even begun with The World at his side.

This discrepancy in strength leaves him feeling confident -- comfortable. Their ascent to the top of the Pyramid of Giza had been too rushed; he makes a mental note to slow Jonathan down so they could spend as much as possible in the next ancient monument. Although he still has little interest in archaeology, the potential of the Stone Masks continue to intrigue him. Although Jonathan is set on destroying them, Dio has others plans. Jonathan would not approve, of course, and he would likely be a kicking screaming fit once Dio revealed his plans, but by then it would be too late. He can rest easy knowing that Jonathan has never been able to hold a grudge. As seen with Erina, with Danny, with his father and all those subsequent steps in the ladder...

Still, it does not mean that Dio should refrain from enjoying the status quo.

He leans over his seat, draping an arm over Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan tenses and Dio can hear his heart skip a beat.

"Jojo," he murmurs, slipping his hand underneath the blazer.

"Dio, we're in a car," Jonathan hisses, shooting him an incredulous glance.

Dio laughs, kissing him with an open mouth. His other hand undoes the buttons on Jonathan's trousers while the one underneath Jonathan's shirt lightly twists a nipple. Jonathan winces, dropping both parchment and dictionary. They clatter to the floor of the vehicle, rolling to the front, and Dio freezes time for an instant to extract his hands before the navigator/translator provided by the Speedwagon Foundation rolls down the dividing curtain and turns around.

"Careful there," she says, leaning back to pick up the dropped items. "My, this looks important."

"Thanks very much," Jonathan says, shooting a glare at Dio who sits with his fingers laced, the picture of innocent concern.

In retaliation, Dio inserts another second, reaching over to fully palm Jonathan's crotch. When time resumes and he is back in his previous position, Jonathan splutters, blushing again.

"Mr. Joestar, are you alright?" the translator asks, eyebrows raised.

"I'm fine -- " Jonathan is in the middle of saying. Dio squeezes his balls in the timefreeze, causing him to jerk up in surprise and desperately cross his legs. "Just... a little overwhelmed..." Jonathan weakly admits.

"Poor thing," the woman sighs, making a sympathetic face, "Would you like me to ask the driver to stop? It looks like you're carsick."

In the span of her question, Dio has activated The World four more times. Jonathan's member is leaking; his whole body is trembling. Like a fish out of water, he gasps: "No. No, I'm -- fine."

"Hm... well, if you say so," she smiles reassuringly, closing the curtain and turning back to relay the situation to their driver.

"Dio!" Jonathan hisses, legs crossing and uncrossing, "What -- agh -- what are you doing?!"

"Doing?" Dio repeats, blinking slowly. "Why do you think I'm doing anything? What do you think I'm doing?" Jonathan is so close he can't quite get words out. He grits his teeth and gives a low moan. Dio looks down, pretending to be surprised. "My, Jojo," he admonishes, stroking the back of Jonathan's neck, "I haven't even touched you there!"

Jonathan is a stock-still mess at this point, pants half-buttoned but member fully hidden. It takes Dio five more not-seconds -- twenty-five minutes in total -- before Jonathan spills, resting his head in the crook of Dio's neck. There's a tell-tale dark stain at the front of his pants and his shoulders are shaking.

"You came like that?" Dio asks, stroking the sweat from Jojo's brow, "Did you miss me that much?"

"Dio, what did you do..." Jonathan moans, tilting to the side.

"Nothing at all. Ah, you better keep quiet," Dio shrugs his own blazer off, draping it over Jonathan's lap right before the screen pulls up again.

"The driver says that -- oh my! What happened?"

"Something from lunch disagreed with him," Dio explains, patting Jonathan's shoulder.

"Oh my! He didn't drink the water from the sink, did he?" Jonathan shakes his head, unable to look her in the eye. "Oh, that's a relief. We'll be stopping for gas in half an hour so hopefully you can stretch your legs then."

Jojo mumbles something.

"Thank you very much," Dio translates, smiling wide, "I'm sure some fresh air will do him good."

"Get well soon, Mr. Joestar!" the woman adds, closing the screen again.

Dio finds himself slumping against Jonathan soon after. The resuming of time means that in the past hour, he's stopped time for eleven seconds. Childish reasons of course, but stopped time is stopped time all the same and the short-term exhaustion floods him. Eleven one-second spurts is not enough to warrant a meal. But he needs to be more careful, he knows. No more of that in the immediate future.

They reach the archaeological site after four days' worth of nighttime driving. The translator gives their papers along with a proper introduction to the excavation director. Jonathan makes sure to tip them generously; Dio makes sure to stay out of sight. The ancient site of Babylon is different from Cairo in that the lack of an embargo means that international excavations are allowed to proceed. While Dio has been brushing up on Middle Eastern languages, Jonathan has picked up colloquial German at some point. Well, for whatever reason, he's actually able to communicate with the director and they talk at great lengths about the site.

As Jonathan explains to him later, this excavation was a sister team to the Speedwagon Foundation's Middle Eastern group. It had also received a large donation from the Foundation for general precision of publications, and this was before the 1980's. Regardless of the reasoning, they are treated warmly by the team members and with general respect from the workers. Dio in particular, as is his way, gets to be quite popular with the masses. Having a near-perfect accent in the native tongue does wonders, he smugly notes, taking in Jonathan's awe.

There are villages scattered here and there around the circumference of the dig site. They are filled with settled nomads and farmers; the closest villages use the excavation as lifeblood. Dio goes farther than that, just to play it safe. He conserves energy and drinks his fill. After his gorging during the last two weeks in Cairo, he finds that a meal a week is acceptable. This is, of course, to say nothing of the hundred years spent underwater, but that was when he had Jonathan's body.

As it is, it turns out the monument Jonathan's Stand directed them towards has not been discovered yet. So although Hermit Purple can pinpoint its location (two miles inside the western gates, framed by high ruins on all six sides), there's still the matter of digging deep enough to reach the entrance. Getting the equipment is easy; rearranging the rest of the excavation team takes weeks. In this time, they are given a shared tent -- a luxury granted only to the director and his wife, Dio later discovers -- and Dio makes good of the couple shared hours they have. Most surprisingly of all, Jonathan meets him step for step. So long as the tent flap is secured, the other is more than willing to get down on his knees.

There is a heaven somewhere here, Dio thinks.

It takes two months to unearth the whole entrance of Etemenanki. It would have been longer if Jonathan had not used his Ripple; it would have been shorter if Dio had helped in the evenings. But his goal is to drag the journey out as long as possible -- and really, with Jonathan breathless and boneless curled against his side, he finds himself quite content. Nonetheless, Jonathan does not lose sight of his ambitions; the ancient temple is rediscovered and although the excavation director is hesitant, Jonathan insists. One way or another, they make their way into the temple in the dead of the night.

For Jonathan, it is always a matter of minimizing loss. He does not want innocent bystanders involved. It suits Dio's purposes though.

And here, in middle of an ancient capital with his old nemesis turned lover and a Stand of unmatched potential, Dio grows overconfident and greedy. He thinks that this complex, shorter and more narrow than the pyramid, will be even less of a challenge. When they make their way to the Stone Mask with Hermit Purple leading the way, Dio uses The World no less than ten times in order to force rocks to fall from the ceiling, or the steps to cave in, or the wall to give in. Either way, he's more exhausted than he should be at the end of their journey; all that effort for an increased time of a couple hours, if that!

"...Are you alright?" Jonathan asks as he's putting the mask in his backpack.

"Of course," Dio snorts.

"If you say so..."

"Hurry up, will you?" he mutters, tired and irritated, "I'd like to be back before sunrise."

"Sure, sure," Jonathan replies, double-checking his watch. "We still have four hours. Going down will be easier than going up."

They're famous last words as it turns out. The staircase which had started out as a single spiral wrapping the outer edge of the tower now zigs and zags. Where there was one path, there are now fifteen. Even the spots Dio is certain he sabotaged -- they have repaired themselves to the point where neither of them know up from down.

"Are you using your Stand?" Dio asks after they've walked for hours. Sunlight is spilling through the cracks of the temple and he needs to tread lightly.

"I've been using it for hours!" Jonathan replies, staring in confusion at the tangle of vines before him. "It led us in a straight path to the mask. Even when the staircase fell away, it knew an alternative route. You saw that, right?"

Walking for half a day coupled with excessive usage of his Stand and no blood in sight leads Dio to stagger against the wall. Jonathan catches onto his arm and shoulder, pulling him to sit in a dark corner of the tower.

"Wait here," he says, "There's too many holes up ahead." Then he leaps from one branch of the stairway to the next.

It is the last Dio sees of Jonathan for days.

After the first couple hours, he thinks that the other has gotten lost. And then the sun sets and the whole tower is encased in darkness yet again, and still, there is no sign of the other. Perhaps this is a practical joke, he thinks. Jonathan was not the type, but his grandson is another matter entirely. Dio calls forth his Stand and navigates further himself. Bringing out The World turns out to be a bad idea; it saps further at his energy. In frustration, he punches the wall, only to find that, while it breaks, there is another set of stairs behind that.

For a second night, he walks without end. Up the stairs, down the stairs, turning left, turning right. His steps echo throughout the tower. He walks and walks and walks until the sun spills over the edges. Then he uses up another precious reserve of strength to punch through the wall with The World. Again, the wall breaks, and again, it reveals more stairs, and a wall behind said stairs. More light filters through the second wall -- too much light. It's too far for his Stand to reach as well, so he sits down and waits for the night.

Dio spends the whole of the third night alternating between building up energy and punching through the same wall. He loses track after twenty-five; a quick series of calculations estimates that this tower must be three times as wide as it was tall -- at least! -- for there to still be walls within walls. By the fourth night, he capitulates, screaming a series of obsceneties and Jonathan's name at the end. He and his stupid grandson will come laughing, no doubt. Except Jonathan does not come and Dio screams himself hoarse.

Jonathan, for his part, has more energy than Dio. He sets off determined to find the bottom of the tower, using Hermit Purple to swing from staircase to staircase. The sun goes down, goes up, and goes down again, and still, the bottom is nowhere in sight. Most confusing of all, when he asks his Stand for the location of the exit, it keeps pointing up. He goes back to where he had left Dio and finds no trace of the other. He is an optimist in every sense however, assuming that the other had managed to get out somehow and forgetting to use his Stand as confirmation. It hurts to be left behind, but the knowledge causes him to redouble his efforts. He follows Hermit Purple's directions religiously for three days and gets absolutely nowhere.

Like Dio, Jojo takes to punching the walls. He does not get as far as the other, going at it for three walls deep before trying to reach the tower's bottom yet again.

When he trips over Dio who's curled up in one bend of the staircase, he thinks he's seeing things at first.

"Dio?!" he gasps, shaking the other's shoulder. "Dio -- what are you still doing here?!"

"I could ask you the same thing," Dio spits back, shoving him away. His pupils are glowing red and his hands are shaking.

"I thought you had gotten out already!"

"How would I have gotten out you idiot?! My Stand doesn't help with navigation, in case you haven't noticed!"

"How long have we been here?" Jonathan asks, looking around. It's still the same neverending walls and stairs.

"I don't know," Dio groans. He takes a couple slow deep breaths, adding, "I lost track after two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Jojo exclaims, "The others have probably entered as well. Which means that they're likely lost too." Then he's desperately digging through his backpack, "And I only brought ten days' worth of rations!" Sure enough, his load is considerably lighter as only crumbs remain.

"Jojo," Dio says, cutting to the chase, "I need to drink blood. It's been two weeks and I will not die here. I may not be able to overpower you in my current state, but all I need is one touch."

The implications take a moment to sink in.

"So then you've -- "

"Of course," Dio grins, "Did you really think your grandson's wild theories could change what I am?"

"But then... all this time..."

"Don't look so shocked Jojo," Dio remonstrates, reaching forward with a hungry gaze. "If anything, think about how long I kept the act up. Did you think I was reformed?"

Jonathan bats his hand aside.

"You said love would change you." His tone is accusatory and Dio does not like it.

"I said nothing of the sort," Dio sneers, reaching forward anew.

"But you made me think it would." Jonathan hits his hand again.

"Are you going to blame me for all your misgivings?"

"But you..." Jonathan tries, the past couple weeks, no, the past year running through his mind, "But you kept up the act."

"Solely for your benefit, I reassure you."

Dio sees himself in Jonathan's wide eyes then. He is the red-eyed bloodsucking sun-fearing monster from children's stories. This time, when he reaches towards the other, Jonathan gives no struggle.

He places his fingers against Jojo's neck, relishing in the sudden flow of blood. Although it is tempting to suck Jojo dry, he restrains himself, drinking the bare minimum before pulling back. Jonathan's eyes are still glazed, lost in some imaginary yesteryear no doubt.

Dio leans forward, kissing his brow. He is in a good mood with the half-liter of blood, and takes it upon himself to begrudge Jojo some kindness.

"You need not worry," he promises, "All my plans include you. I will not let you die here."

They are words and nothing more unfortunately. Days pass and there is no sign of beginning or end. Although Jonathan can receive some energy from raw sunlight, not enough of it filters through the network of cracks. Within a week, he loses the ability to manifest Hermit Purple. Dio is not holding up well either; his extended usage of The World in his initial exploration was a poor choice.

In the end, they collapse in the bend of a stairway with five meters between the two of them.

"Jojo, you bastard," Dio growls, "Don't you dare die."

Jonathan laughs.

"You said that to me before. When we were in the trunk at the bottom of the ocean."

"What are you..."

"I remember it now. You called me a lot of names and threatened everyone I loved." With the last bit of strength, he tries to reach Dio. It's funny, even though there's no escape in sight, he does not think this is an end. It is almost as if they lived their lives in this neverending tower.

"If we make it out," he starts and does not finish.

This is how Joseph and Abdul discover the two of them: sprawled out on one of the middle staircases with outstretched hands. They are covered with dust and dirt; Jonathan's section of the wall is speckled with enough holes that there are plants growing from his back.

"Oh my god!" Joseph exclaims, hurrying over to his grandfather. However weak, there is definitely a pulse. "They've been here all this time?!"

"It seems that way, yes," Abdul agrees, shouldering Dio. "While I don't know of any Stand like this, I don't see any other explanation."

"We've been wandering this place for three days and it already feels like forever," Joseph groans.

"And by the looks of it, we cannot exit without destroying the Stand at work."

"Do you think it's a human?" Joseph asks, hefting Jonathan up before activating his own Stand.

"I don't know."

"Hermit Purple!" Joseph calls, "Find the source of this Stand!"

The purple vines extend from his arm, going forward, only to snake back towards...

"What!"

"No wait, Mr. Joestar, look -- "

"My grandfather would not be responsible for this!"

"No, look!" Abdul points at the vines. Though they are surrounding Jonathan, they are concentrated towards his backpack. "It's a bound Stand."

"A bound Stand?" Joseph repeats, gently lowering his grandfather to pull off the backpack and rifle through.

"A Stand that's bound to an object not a user," Abdul explains, "When its original user dies, it can continue, as this Stand has done."

"Empty food containers... flashlights... batteries... used underwear..." Joseph makes a face, tossing the garbage out, "Geez, Grandpa's even less organized than me!" At the bottom of the sack he finds an object wrapped in cloth. Abdul shines the flashlight his way, revealing the third Stone Mask.

"So... we break this and the Stand is gone?"

"Presumably."

"Alright then, let's go!" Joseph charges the Ripple in his fist, smashing it against the mask. It shatters, and with it, the entire tower comes crumbling down.

"Aaaah!!"

"Mr. Joestar!"

"Don't worry about me Abdul! Get out yourself!"

They make it out of the ruins in the nick of time with both Jonathan and Dio in-tow.

"Figures Grandpa would be carrying the Stand with him the whole time..." Joseph grumbles, shouldering Jonathan more firmly.

"It's likely they didn't realize a Stand was at work," Abdul shrugs, doing the same with Dio.

Chapter Text

"Your grandfather..." Abdul starts.

Joseph turns to look at him. The two of them are seated opposite one another on the porch of a single-story house at the edge of the village. The excavation site is on the horizon. As luck would have it, the black-out tarp they had brought to wrap Dio up in had been unnecessary; the Etemenanki monument had crumbled in the night. They seek refuge in a house provided by the Speedwagon Foundation, putting Dio in a makeshift darkroom with a couple gallons of animal blood and lying Jonathan outside at daybreak.

"What about him?" Joseph prompts.

"He's a bit like a plant, isn't he?" the other points out.

Joseph chokes on a laugh.

"Hey, watch what you say," he retorts, failing at keeping a serious face, "He may look younger than my daughter, but he's still my grandpa through and through!"

"I meant no offense," Abdul replies, those his lips are curling too. "It's just... they were trapped inside that Stand for quite some time. Perhaps you did not feel it, but the lower level was filled with human remains from thousands of years prior. After such time in captivity... I am merely amazed they both survived."

"Well he's definitely human, if that's what you're asking," Joseph shrugs, "You felt his pulse, yeah?" Abdul nods. Joseph jerks his head back to the house, expression growing dark, "I wish I could say the same for him."

"He's what we would call a vampire, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Forgive my ignorance on the matter, but... aren't they slaves to their thirst?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Joseph admits, shrugging again. "But those two... they're older than dirt despite not looking a day over twenty. They're from a time we can't even begin to comprehend. The fact that they survived -- each other and all those years -- well, let's just say they're different from you and me."

"So you would not have survived that time without food?"

"Three months?" Joseph repeats, "Hah! My limit is one week, not a hundred years. Yeah, you would've had to find me at the bottom with the corpses after three months." His voice drops as his gaze moves back to Jonathan, "I didn't tell you this, but when we were sparring in New York, there were some points when I thought he was going to go all-out. It took me eight weeks to get back to using the Ripple, and he makes it look like I've just started!"

"Would you say he's stronger than your mother?" Abdul asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, easily," he shudders, thinking about it. "She tried to explain the mechanics of the Ripple to me but I didn't pay attention. Something about how breathing gives energy to your blood and all. Did I tell you about the time she made me wear a mask just so I'd get the basic breathing rhythm down? Yeah, well, gramps there didn't even do that. According to Uncle Speedwagon, one month was all he needed to learn everything from Tonpetty's best."

He closes his eyes, leaning back and thinking to his own childhood. His grandmother had added to Speedwagon's stories at times, talking of how Jonathan could heal with a touch, how plants had blossomed under his hold, how his Ripple had been so controlled that he could effectively possess the undead with it and leave them unscathed. His favorite story of course, had been how Jonathan had made a glider out of leaves. He's tried to replicate the feat, even brought Caesar in on it, but try as they might, they couldn't chain the energy through fifteen leaves, much less fifteen hundred. He is selfish he knows, to be grateful to Dio for reviving his grandfather. There were still so many things he had to learn from the other; he hopes his grandmother in heaven will forgive the further monopolizing of her husband.

"Mr. Joestar," Abdul calls, tapping his shoulder.

"Eh, what?" He snaps to attention and then leaps to his feet. "Grandpa!" he bellows, sprinting to the other man and throwing his arms about him.

"Joseph!" Jonathan exclaims, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here? No, wait, where is the monument? How did we get out?!"

"Woah, woah, one question at a time!" his grandson laughs, leaning into the returned embrace. "Old man, you nearly gave Suzie a heart attack -- what the hell were you thinking, getting stuck in that place for three months?!"

"Three months?" Jonathan repeats, staring.

"Yeah, we didn't think anything was up until the Foundation sent someone to investigate and the director confessed that you guys hadn't returned yet. And then how they sent some people in after you but they didn't return either." Joseph snorts, rolling his eyes, "He was more concerned about the building than you guys... I'll never understand people like him."

"What happened to the tower?" Jonathan presses. Then he remembers his priorities, "Wait, Joseph, where's Dio?"

"Don't look at me like that, of course we brought him too, right Abdul? Ah, that's Abdul by the way. He knows a ton about Stands and -- woah, woah!" Jonathan tries to stand up and quickly keels over, "You've been hibernating for a goddamn season and now you want to walk? Take it easy, Dio's still knocked out the last time we checked. Abdul, can you grab a chair? Thanks. Okay, here you go..." he slowly seats his grandfather in the chair, facing the still-rising sun, "Sit for at least an hour! Do you want some food?"

Jonathan opens his mouth, about to protest no doubt, but his stomach interrupts him. It growls.

"One order of Jojo's famous 6th Avenue Scramble coming right up!" his grandson laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. "Abdul, make sure the old man gets his Vitamin D. I'll make your breakfast too!" Leaving no room for argument, Joseph sidles back into the house. Sure enough, the smell of eggs and batter comes wafting to the porch soon enough.

"Ah, Abdul is it?" Jonathan asks, grinning sheepishly. "Thank you very much for coming to the rescue. I'm Jonathan Joestar, Joseph's grandfather."

"The pleasure is mine," Abdul replies, shaking firmly. "I am Muhammad Abdul. I met your grandson while we were both researching Stands."

"There are more people with Stands?" Jonathan asks, surprised.

"Quite a few by the looks of it, though it is rare enough to keep off the front page."

"Ah, that makes sense," Jonathan tilts his head back, basking in the sunlight, "So how did the two of you get us out of the tower? We were lost for what felt like weeks! It's especially embarrassing as my Stand can be used for navigating... though it didn't work then for some reason."

Abdul explains that Jonathan's Hermit Purple was rendered ineffective because they were inside a larger Stand, how the Stand was bound to the Stone Mask and manifested itself as a metaphysical maze of walls within walls and stairs leading to stairs. He reiterates how, although it was bound to the Stone Mask in this case, the majority of Stands were bound to their users. Jonathan asks some more questions on the nature of Stands: what caused them (no idea), what Abdul's Stand was (Magician's Red), whether they had taken any pictures of the Stone Mask (no), how Abdul knew so much about Stands (personal experience) and so forth. They're in the middle of discussing ancient history and the secondary literature surrounding it when Joseph interrupts them with the ring of a bell.

"Oh my god," he groans, as Abdul and Jonathan naturally continue their discussion over breakfast, "I save your life and this is how you repay me?!" He turns to Abdul, crossing his arms, "Did you know that my wife is taking classes in Aramaic because of him? Aramaic! As if I don't have enough trouble understanding her with Italian..."

"In all fairness, my hobby is in collecting out of print books," Abdul adds.

"Really?" Jonathan interjects, "Where is your library? If it's nearby, we could..."

"It's in my home unfortunately. Ah, I'm from Egypt on that note."

"Give me a break..." Joseph sighs, burying his face in his hands. He finishes his breakfast of eggs, beans, and pancakes (with a dash of imported ham!) first, smacking his lips and setting his dishes in the sink. As Abdul and Jonathan are still enraptured in some obscure conversation topic, he swings by the darkroom, double-checking the vampire. The animal blood is untouched and Dio is still out cold by the looks of it. He remembers fighting the lesser vampires; he remembers his mother recounting how his father had been killed by Dio's minion. But his grandfather cares about him and, to some inexplicable but undeniable extent, Dio cares for his grandfather as well.

Joseph steps closer. He had planned to force-feed the other blood, but then Dio's eyes had snapped open and he had lunged forward, fingers outstretched.

"Hey, what the -- " he activates his Ripple on instinct and Dio shrieks, drawing back and baring his fangs.

"Joseph! Dio!" Jonathan shouts, barreling into the darkroom with Abdul close behind.

"Hey! I thought he was -- " Joseph starts.

"I'll explain later!" Jonathan cuts in, grabbing him by his collar and throwing him out the room. He closes the door and reinforces it with Hermit Purple. It's in the nick of time, Joseph's shouting and pounding notwithstanding, as Dio's fingers are sucking at his bloodstream already.

Thankfully, Dio comes to his senses in seconds. His eyes dim and he pulls his fingers away. Jonathan grabs his hand then, pressing it against his neck.

"Jojo," he growls, "I am in no mood for your platitudes."

"You need blood," Jonathan says.

"I see you're going for the gold in deduction."

"Dio, drink." Jonathan presses down insistently. "No, let me finish what I was going to say. Back in the tower, when we were... no, it doesn't matter." He shakes his head, tightening his grip, "You are right. I have been willfully blind."

"Your blood cannot sustain me," Dio lies, trying to remove his hand. Every cell in his body is screaming, but he is the master of his temptations.

"Then I'll make more of it," Jonathan replies.

"Do you know what you're offering?"

"I'm offering you my blood," Jonathan blithely states, "Now drink it before Joseph breaks through."

"No," Dio says, wondering where he went wrong and how their positions had switched.

But Jonathan has come prepared for a fight; he grabs at a nearby knife, and Dio cuts himself, smacking it out of the other man's hand. They grapple in the dark for a couple minutes, an unwitting callback to when Jonathan had first been revived, and Dio again gains the upper hand through dirty tactics. When had Jonathan gotten so clever, he wonders, stopping time for half a second, that he had to use his Stand in order to beat him?

The spoonfuls of blood he had taken from Jonathan and his grandson prove to be insufficient and though he levels Jonathan in a chokehold for all of twenty seconds, twenty seconds is all he has before his energy runs out. Jonathan is winded as well however and though he is aware of Dio's weakening grip, he does not have enough energy to return the favor. Dio props himself up against the shelf; Jonathan presses his face against the cold floor.

"I need more blood than you can provide."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"I can spend more time in the sun," Jonathan reasons, "My body has not been normal for a long time. I think you should be able to feed off of me."

"I need a four liters every week."

"I can make that."

"Don't lie Jojo. It's not very becoming."

"You don't know that."

"What do you see yourself as?" Dio sneers, "A tamer of beasts? Do you mean to domesticate me with your irrational ideas?"

"Dio, you have to stop seeing people as sources of food!"

"Why should I?" he sniffs, "If anything, they're generally honored. And it is a great honor, to be a part of my, Dio's, feast."

"Because they're people that you're eating!" Jonathan bursts, "They have families, ambitions, things that they care about, things that they hate." His voice drops as he realizes the pounding against the door has stopped. "And so long as they're alive, they have potential."

"What do you expect me to say?" Dio laughs, "That I finally see the light? That I'll change my ways and live off of your blood from now on? I'll tell you this much about my plans: I do not plan to stay in the shadows for the rest of eternity. I do not need to be treated like a god, but I will not hide from lesser beings."

"Do you miss the sun?" Jonathan asks. The question comes out of the blue, taking Dio by surprise.

"Not particularly," he admits after a beat. It's more a matter of being denied things.

"Because I would miss the sun." he shakes his head, swallowing. "After I destroy the sixth mask, I'll go back to Erina."

Dio freezes.

"Have you told your grandson?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure he would understand." He pauses, uncertain of how to continue. "But when I go back, I will take you with me."

"Oh?" Dio sighs, "And how do you plan to do that?"

"I don't know," the other admits, "But you are my responsibility, just as the masks are. Perhaps... if I had not been so fascinated with my mother's things, you would not have turned out like this."

Because it is the most ridiculous thing he has heard in a long time, Dio throws his head back and gives into laughter. Jonathan says nothing, even as Dio is crawling back to him. His hand is extended and his fingers press against Jonathan's neck. At long last, he begins to drink his fill.

"It pleases me to know that I am at the end of your plans," he says. "But of course, you are without a plan. I will not tell you mine, outside of it existing, because I do not doubt your meddling ways, but I will tell you the end picture. The world will be united in reverent fear of I, Dio. They will make a throne for me to rule from. And you, Jojo, will be by my feet -- my eternal other half."

After he's finished, Jonathan is not only still conscious but also able to stand up. He calls back his Stand and opens the door, where Joseph and Abdul are at the ready outside. Joseph tackles him in another hug of course, fretting over any potential injuries, and Abdul pulls out a third and fourth chair. They sit in the cramped hallway of the house with Dio on one side, draped in shadows, and Jonathan on the other, flooded with light. Conversation is terse, with Joseph leveling accusations anew and Dio rising to the challenge. Somewhere along the way, Joseph belatedly reveals that he has been gifted with a Stand as well -- one identical in form if not function to Jonathan's. The two of them spend some time comparing their Stands while Abdul and Dio engage in an uneasy dialogue on books. As it turns out, Joseph's Stand has a longer range but a more limited scope of abilities. It is unable to navigate or even present a slideshow of the present, though it can take 'spirit' photos with the help of an expensive one-use-only camera. The discrepancy in their abilities is lost on both of them; neither Dio nor Abdul bring the subject up.

Eventually they get onto the topic of the fourth mask, which is somewhere in the northwestern region of India. Because there is no archaeological team there (or at least, none affiliated with the Speedwagon Foundation), Joseph suggests that he and Abdul come along. Dio is preparing himself for traveling with both of them when Jonathan disagrees with an unforeseen vehemence. He says that this is his duty, that Joseph should go back to New York (or better yet, visit his daughter), and that he will not involve them further. Dio adds that the other two would have no chance of surviving three months without sustenance; who was to say such situations would not be repeated?

Strong words are exchanged then and Abdul eventually needs to hold Joseph back from punching Dio and Jonathan. He calls his grandfather a variety of colorful names, so much so that Jonathan tearfully relents. And there it is again, that streak of cunning that Dio does not remember Jonathan ever having. Joseph is a heavy sleeper; he does not wake when Jonathan is sneaking out. Abdul does, but his Magician's Red is no match against Dio's World. Before taking his leave, Jonathan thanks Abdul for rescuing them and asks him to delay Joseph as long as possible.

"Do you regret it?" Dio asks, genuinely curious. The knee-jerk sense of family which the Joestars seemed to thrive under... he has never understood it.

"No," Jonathan says, slowly shaking his head. "Joseph will understand, in time. There are things we must do ourselves."

He does not say anymore and Dio does not ask further. And so they journey forth into the night. By the next day, Jonathan has managed to procure seats on an interregional night bus. Joseph attempts to use his Stand to follow them; Jonathan counters his attempts with ease. And so they make their way from eastern Iraq to northern India. The mountain ranges prove to be the most difficult, with the locals largely dependent on rivers for transportation.

At some point, the new year comes around and they have only just arrived in Pakistan. Dio is purposely slowing them down, Jonathan has long realized, but he cannot do anything about it. Tires break; drivers fall ill; at one point a busload of schoolchildren nearly runs them over. It does not help that Dio is growing ever bolder in his interactions; they are chased out of many an establishment as a result. And Jonathan finds himself thinking he had promised Joseph that they would spend the coming Christmas together. He is a terrible grandparent he thinks. Before, he had thought the masks would be destroyed by the end of the year.

What a wonderful present that would have been -- asking his grandson to bury him in the new year!

Slowly but surely, despite Dio's efforts, they make their way into India. It is February 1986 when they finally reach the dried-up riverbed that had once been the Sarasvati River, the main method of transportation for the people of the Indus Valley. Jonathan is all out of sorts, having fainted three times already. Dio is as sharp as he's always been, sneaking off to feed elsewhere, but he capitulates because in the end, Jonathan's blood is so very sweet. But more than constant bloodloss and three months of travel, Jonathan realizes that he's the least prepared for this civilization.

They rest for a couple nights in a recently-abandoned roadside inn. Jonathan suspects, as he has started to do, but Dio maintains his innocence with a smile pressed against the other man's ear.

"Dio," he moans, kissing and being kissed. His whole body is trembling, as if his frame has been stretched on string.

Dio chuckles, darkly amused.

Jonathan has them set out at the fall of dusk the next day. His supplies have long since dwindled; he gave his empty backpack away weeks ago. Dio carries nothing like always, but his hair is free of dirt and his nails are impeccably green. Sometimes Jonathan wonders; most of the time he tries not to think. Once they are at the bottom of the dry riverbed, he activates his Stand, asking it to lead him towards the Stone Mask. It complies, pointing to the northern horizon, and they walk for an hour or two. And then Dio decides that they are not moving fast enough for his liking and he picks Jojo up, flitting forward.

"You're going the wrong way," Jonathan says after a couple minutes.

"It's the same path we've been walking on for an hour!"

"My Stand is pointing in the opposite direction now."

He mutters some curses, setting Jonathan down. Sure enough, the vines are pointing the way they just came. The two of them backtrack a couple kilometers, with Jonathan pointedly encasing himself in the Ripple, until Hermit Purple changes its direction yet again, this time facing...

"Down?" Jonathan repeats, eyebrows furrowing.

"It's saying the mask is buried underground," Dio guesses.

"How far underground?"

"How would I know?"

"I wasn't asking you," Jonathan admits, looking at his Stand. It offers no further explanation, simply continues pointing at the earth. He drops to his knees then, digging with his hands. It's no good, he keeps at it for half an hour to no avail. He ends up channeling the Ripple into a nearby tree branch, using it as a rotating screw. The dry dirt and dust fly out and onto his clothes; it's a delicate balance between maintaining his breathing and not breathing dirt in. Dio, of course, is seated a couple meters away. He has managed to find a clean rock to sit on and is admiring his nails.

"You could help you know!" Jojo calls, setting down the well-worn branch and climbing up the bank to break off another one.

"I'm in no hurry."

"What about the sun?"

"What's one more day in the grand scheme of things?"

Jonathan makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat, grabbing five more branches in the meantime. He uses up three more digging a hole twice as deep as his own height, before the fourth one hits something like rock. His eyebrows furrow again and he closes his eyes, increasing the energy channeled towards the branch. Eventually, the impediment gives way -- along with the earth beneath his feet.

Dio is on his feet and at the hole's edge the second Jonathan lets out a cry of surprise. He's not fast enough however, and the other slips through his fingers.

"Aaugh -- gluh - guh - guh!"

Jonathan's scream is interrupted by the unquestionable sound of water.

"Jojo?" Dio calls, peering into the darkness.

"I'm fine! It's just water!" There's a pause and then, "Spring water, even!"

Dio grimaces: "Why are you still tasting everything new?"

"It tastes great!" Jonathan shouts back, answering nothing. "Ah, there's another lead!" There's the sound of sloppy paddling and then... silence. Dio sighs, prematurely resigned, before stripping out of his heavier garments and jumping in as well. There is indeed water at the end of the fall -- though it is a long fall. The jagged edge of the ceiling scrapes his leg, arm, and cheek when he's passing through it and he hits the water with blood welling from his cuts.

Jonathan is swimming towards the left side.

"An underground lake then," Dio muses, swerving his gaze from side to side. There are stalactites dangling dozens of meters above him. He pushes himself underwater and finds he cannot see the bottom. The sense of unease is more apparent then: that Jonathan can see perfectly fine without using his Ripple, the fact that Dio feels no pain despite the visibility. The light that illuminates this lake is the same sort of light that all Stands emit.

He jets to the water's surface then, using The World to catapault him to Jonathan's side.

"Dio!" the other man exclaims, as his hands are wrapped around the fourth mask, "What are you -- "

"You idiot! Can't you tell that this is -- "

Neither of them manage to finish as a the mask glows bright blue, vibrating violently in Jonathan's hands. Dio freezes time to knock it out, but the damage is already done.

"Hey!" Jonathan exclaims, "How did that -- "

He's interrupted a second time by the waters churning and parting. And there, in the center of the parting, some greenish-blue script appears. It is ten characters long, eight in one line and two columns of one. Dio looks expectantly at the other.

Jonathan looks sick to his stomach.

"Well?" Dio prompts.

"I know what this is," Jonathan starts.

"Then read it!"

"I can't! No one can! It's been hundreds of years and no one's made any leeway!"

"Just take a guess then!"

"There's nothing to guess!"

The bottom two characters grow larger. One looks like "U", the other looks like "T".

"One of them is turning yellow," Jonathan notes, eyes impossibly wide.

"What does it mean?"

"I don't know!"

The left sign is fully yellow at this point.

"Well think about it!"

"There's nothing to think about!" Jonathan will later tell him that the script was unusual for exclusively having short inscriptions. That it managed to keep the same ductus over a time period of fifteen hundred years. That hundreds of philologists had thrown themselves at the problem, ultimately coming out empty-handed. At the moment, they watch in uncertain anticipation as the water stills, eventually covering the odd script.

And then they are blown out of the water.

Jonathan uses the Ripple to stabilize himself mid-air; Dio freezes time to stop his velocity altogether.

"What was that?!" Jonathan demands.

"It's just like the tower," Dio replies, cracking his knuckles, "This whole place is probably an elaborate bound Stand."

"I was talking about the mask!"

Dio snaps his head back -- sure enough, the Stone Mask has reattached itself to its initial resting spot. It is a suspended a meter above the water, gazing down into its depths. The two of them remain frozen for a while longer, until it becomes apparent the mask has stopped moving. He exhales slowly, swimming over with Jonathan at his heels.

"Dio, be careful," Jojo warns.

"You said you can't read it, right?" Dio asks, "Then nothing of value will be lost if I destroy it now."

"Think of where we are," Jonathan presses. "If you're right and this whole lake is a Stand, then..."

"Point taken," Dio grudgingly admits, retracting his hand. Except then Jonathan swims forward and takes the mask for himself.

"What are you -- "

"Look, it's doing it again," Jonathan says. Indeed, the mask is shaking and the water is vibrating. He lets go of it willingly this time, letting it sink, and again, the blue-green characters appear. It is the same ten characters at least. Dio prepares himself for the knockback; Jonathan takes a deep breath, diving down.

"Jojo!" Dio calls, but the other is punching through the words. They shimmer in response to his touch. Jonathan resurfaces at his side, rubbing the water from his eyes. "What was that for?" Dio demands.

"I wanted to see if I could change it," the other explains.

"It has," Dio announces. This time, it is the right sign that is turning yellow. As with the previous time, it takes a couple seconds before the water stills. However, instead of blasting them out, it is the Mask shoots out, gliding in circles around them. In the wake of its movement, more signs are appearing beneath the current. Dio counts three, five, eight -- nine new signs. A quick glance at Jonathan reveals that he is just as uneasy as before -- and just as in the dark, no doubt.

"Three of them are the same sign," Dio points out.

"I noticed that," Jonathan bites back.

And then the mask stops moving and they are both forced underwater.

A lack of air will not kill him -- will not kill Jonathan, even. But this crushing pressure on all sides -- Dio finds his limbs stuck at his sides, his eyes unable to open, to say nothing of the water forcing itself down his lungs. He calls for his Stand but it takes an additional degree of concentration: maneuvering it towards him in this pressure and suffocating darkness. The World tries to pull him, but a larger force -- a torrent of water inside the water -- pushes them both back, up, and out.

Jonathan, for his part, is torn between fascination and trepidation. On one hand, this was proof that those symbols had been used for communication -- on the other hand, he had no idea how to get to the mask. He can't breathe underwater; there's no trapped air in water this old; and even his Hermit Purple is getting blown to the side. He feels himself moving upwards, caught in a vortex of water, and realizes that at the edges, there must be air. There is, but he ends up breathing more water than oxygen, and the vortex quickly sucks him back in.

Faster and faster, round and round, he's buffeted on all sides by water, bending his limbs at unspeakable angles.

There's a rumble from the earth itself, and then the water pressure breaks past the meters of stone and dirt, jetting up over the riverbank and sending the two of them flying into the night air.

When Jonathan comes to, Dio is viciously stomping on a pile of pebbles. He himself is half-submerged in the newly-formed spring.

"Dio," he says, voice weary, "You don't need to do that."

Dio ignores him in favor of grinding his somehow-dry heel in the rubble. Then he spits on it.

"Dio," he repeats.

"What?" the other asks, eyes flashing.

Jonathan takes a step back, placing himself in a defensive position. Then he summons his Stand and, as expected, it finds the fourth mask still entirely intact, tucked inside Dio's breast pocket. Dio does not put up a fight when he pulls it out, does not say anything when he crushes it between his fists.

If anything, Dio smiles, looping an arm around his wet shoulders and twining their tongues.

They make their way to the other end of the riverbank, finding shelter in a thick entrapment of trees. Two more masks, Jonathan thinks, leaning in when he feels Dio's fingers against his pulse.

Chapter Text

One night, Jonathan wakes up and finds that Dio is gone.

Having had the other so close for so long, the change is startling. He rubs at his face, getting to his feet, and squints into the night. There's a cresent moon at the moment and it's waning to boot. To make matters worse, the mountain pass they had decided to stay in during the day makes it so only a sliver of the sky can be seen.

He activates his Stand, asking it which direction Dio was in. It points towards the main mountain road. Jonathan ventures forward, walking for a couple minutes, but as he sees nothing, he returns to the cave.

In all fairness, they had not been connected at the hip for the whole of their journey. In fact, Dio often went off on his own. He picked up new languages at an alarming rate and the locals, both men and women, still flocked to him. It was in these outings that he acquired new nail laquer, Jonathan had reasoned. But Dio had always given some warning -- well, although he never excused himself, he did make sure Jonathan could see him come and go.

The moon is halfway through the sky, long past the crack between the mountain sides, and still Dio does not return.

Jonathan calls forth Hermit Purple a second time and it points in the same direction again.

He calls Dio's name three names, each time louder than the next, before having Hermit Purple lead the way. He keeps a good pace, neither walking nor sprinting, but although the vines of his Stand redirect him three or four times, by the time day breaks, Dio is still nowhere to be found. A chill runs through his spine then -- although he does not like to consider it, it is most likely the other is feeding. It's all the more reason to stop him, but then, Dio's speed over long-distances far surpasses him. If the other does not want to be caught, Jonathan will not be able to catch him. Not alone, at least.

This is the key difference in their methodologies, he knows. Whereas he is unwilling to involve anyone, especially his own relatives, Dio makes use of anyone and everyone. Perhaps that is why people flock to him, because he will give them purpose without regards to their their personalities, their fears, or indeed, their limitations. As for himself, he values the individual human life too much to ask that favor of anyone. He still regrets having Erina and Speedwagon throw their lives away because of him.

The underlying fear of Dio's wrath is a good deterrent as well. Although he is relatively confident of his own safety, moreso because of his own abilities than Dio's promises admittedly, he cannot say the same for members of the Speedwagon Foundation or even his grandson. Because at the end of the day, there is a difference in their mastery of the Ripple stemming from the experience of a hundred years prior and general good fortune. Joseph is far more clever than him and he has no doubts the other would be able to fight him to a draw -- perhaps even a win. But against Dio, who was just as clever and not above using tricks himself?

There is also Suzie and Holly and Jotaro -- people Dio would not hesitate to take hostage.

No, it is better that his descendents are less involved. If he fails in taking Dio with him, he knows Joseph will take up the mantle.

And that is precisely why he must win.

Jonathan stops running then, looking at the scenery around. The mountain landscape is speckled with trees and shrubs; the sparse but existent vegetation continues for as far as the eye can see. It is reasonable to assume then, that there is a source of water somewhere. He redirects his Stand, asking for fresh water, and follows its directions up the face of the mountain. There is a freshwater lake at the summit, and the view looking down is spectacular.

He drinks his fill and then uses the water surface as a scry, asking for Dio's location. Unfortunately, this water is too clear. Though he can see his face and the sky, the image from Hermit Purple is lost in the gentle ripples. He retracts his Stand and forages for food. There are mushrooms and rabbits along with various edible vegetables, using the Ripple he crafts a small fire by the water's edge, skewering his finds and cooking them via grill.

It could do with a bit of salt, he mutters, chuckling at his own bad joke.

When night falls, he realizes that Dio might not be coming back. It's a sudden parting, to say nothing of their odd relationship, but then, hadn't Dio been increasingly irritated? It bothers him somewhat, that the other would leave without warning, but he rationalizes that he can always access a mirror (or better yet, a television) and find him at the end of his quest. So he asks his Stand for the location of the fifth Stone Mask, planning to resume traveling the next day.

Three days later, while he's curled onto his side under a fortuitously-discovered overhang, his sleep is interrupted with a loud thwok thwok thwok. As he later recalls, it is similar to the pages of an immensely large book, turned over and over again.

Right as he's moving into a defensive crouch, the source of the sound makes itself known. It is a smaller flying object which Joseph will tell him is called a helicoptor, but more importantly, Dio is gripping the bottom blade.

"Dio!" Jonathan shouts, "What are you doing?"

"Ah," the other says, as if it is an ordinary occurence, "There you are."

His response is drowned out by the sound of motor, but Jonathan takes his proffered hand, allowing the other to pull him out of the overhang and flip them both in through the cabin doors.

If anything, it is even louder inside the machine.

"How did you get this?" Jonathan hollers, and he cannot hear himself. Dio evidently can, he rolls his eyes and says something, but his answer is lost in the chopping of the blades. The helicoptor ascends then, moving above the mountain and zig-zagging its way above the main road. The new moon has come and gone and the same sliver, now waxing, can be seen in the night sky. Jonathan wants to remark on it, wants to remark on anything really, but the noise keeps him from even thinking.

Dio pulls him into the back of the cabin; there is no improvement in noise levels and it's even more cramped. Jonathan sits himself down, clenching his eyes and plugging up his ears. It's no good of course, at this point the sound might as well be coming from his bones.

The constant thwok thwok thwok makes him feel physically ill -- more than being hundreds of feet in the air, the roar of the plane engine is nothing compared to this clamor, the same short syllable of blades hitting air, a vocal cacophany with neither beginning nor end.

He thinks he's going crazy from the noise, imagining someone touching his shoulders, his neck, but then fingers skirt his thigh and he snaps his eyes open, momentarily pulled out of his headache by Dio's ministrations.

"Are you crazy?" he shouts, though his throat is already hoarse, "Here?!"

Instead of responding verbally, Dio pulls Jonathan into his lap, where the other man can feel the rumble of amusement from his chest. Dio pulls Jojo's fingers out, pressing his mouth directly against the shell of the ear.

"It will take your mind off things," he says before slipping the earplugs in.

Jonathan relaxes significantly then, leaning fully against the other and allowing himself to be touched. There are things to be said for modern conveniences, Dio muses as he sticks two fingers into Jonathan's mouth. The choppy motion of the helicoptor had started off as an annoyance; he soon discovers that the rocking motion it generates means he doesn't need to move.

'I will miss you,' he thinks, biting down on the Joestar.

He pushes Jonathan over the edge right after, left hand wrapped about his cock, right hand pulling at his hair.

The rear of the cabin is a mess by the end of it. When Jonathan crawls out of the black-out tarp the next morning, earplugs still firmly in place, he sees that they are already over China's Yellow River. Dio throws a book at him, gesturing for him to close the blinds of the rear compartment, and he obliges. There is a television screen in the cabinet and upon connecting his Stand to it, discovers that they are three quarter's of the way to the site of the fifth mask.

The journey from India to China is significantly shorter; though they had spent three weeks trekking the slightly less mountainous route out of India, the helicoptor crosses the thousand remaining kilometers in a day.

They touch ground at sundown, and the helicoptor motor stops upon landing. The lack of noise comes as such a relief, Jonathan thinks he could cry. And then he's opening the door to the cockpit, about to thank the pilot, and Dio opens the blind -- fast, but never fast enough. He thinks at first that the pilot had been made into a zombie, but then, looking at the color of his flesh, it is apparent something else is at work. Dio gloats a bit then, saying how the same "old hag" who had presented him with a Stand had also come up with the idea of mind control buds.

Jonathan destroys said bud without a second thought, channeling the Ripple through his fingers. And just like that, the spell is broken and the pilot scrambles to his senses. He does not speak any English and when Jonathan looks to Dio for help, he finds the other has already left. There is nothing he can do to explain -- a game of charades only goes so far after all -- but he gives up the last of his American currency, a paltry two thousand dollars. The pilot's eyes widen and he says something rapid in his own tongue, pushing Jonathan out before starting up the motors.

"Why do you even bother," Dio drawls, flicking on an ill-gotten flashlight.

"I have already explained," Jonathan replies, manifesting Hermit Purple.

By the looks of it, they've landed extremely close to the fifth mask: his Stand directs them to an tree-covered on the riverbend.

As the sun has just set, this is the ideal time for them to look for the mask. As it is, Dio's mood takes a turn for the worst and he wraps his hand around Jonathan's neck. Jonathan could fight him off, could probably even reason with him. But he is, to an extent, grateful that Dio did not kill the pilot, and wrongly assumes that one extra night will not matter in the grand scheme of things. Dio drinks at his blood until he's passed out however, and he sleeps like the dead for a day.

The next evening he wakes up cushioned on four or five ornate drapes on the riverbank.

"Where did you get these?" he immediately asks Dio. The texture could very well be silk.

"Here and there," Dio replies, carelessly waving his hand. Jonathan gets up and Dio looks over at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find the fifth mask."

"It's going to be dawn soon."

"You're welcome to stay behind," there's a curtness to his tone that makes the words taste bitter. Jonathan continues walking regardless.

Dio gets up and follows him. Whereas Jonathan can walk on water, he travels the distance between island and riverbank in one great leap. The island is larger than anticipated, with trees that climb towards the sky. There are the ruins of an ancient structure here: rounded pillars and smooth slabs of stone. Hermit Purple leads them past the architecture and into a walled-off courtyard.

"This is -- " Jonathan exclaims, practically tripping on the mask.

"No," Dio interjects, shining his flashlight on the rest of the courtyard.

"Oh god..."

There, scattered haphazardly with weeds overgrown, are some hundred odd Stone Masks.

Dio grabs at the closest one and cuts himself.

"This one is fake," he announces.

"So is this one," Jonathan concurs, setting said object down. "Pass me the flashlight. Hmmm... these all have the same inscription." He hands the flashlight back, extending the vines of his Stand. "Hermit Purple," he commands, "Where is the Stone Mask?"

Leading the way again, Jonathan makes his way to the center of the courtyard.

Nestled in a tangle of vines and perched on a waist-high pedestal, the fifth Stone Mask reacts immediately to their presence.

"It doesn't need to be touched?"

"Evidently not." A pause, and then, "Could you make out the inscription on the mask?"

"No," Jonathan shakes his head, "I don't know this language at all."

"Has it been deciphered?"

"Yes, but there were no books on it in either New York or Cairo."

Their conversation on semantics is interrupted when the mask floats up, as if greeting them. Jonathan instinctively lunges for it.

"Aah!" he gives a scream of surprise, finding himself lifted up into the air by the mask.

"You idiot...!" Dio curses, grabbing on as well.

"Is this the power of a Stand?" Jonathan asks as their ascent continues.

"What do you think?!"

"Let go then!"

"As if," Dio snorts, tightening his grip.

Up and up and up and up they float.

"Dio?" Jonathan asks after a while.

"What?"

"Do you feel weird...?"

"Of course not," he snaps, "Being dragged hundreds of meters into the air is an everyday occurence."

"I wasn't talking about that. It's just that..."

"What?"

"Don't you feel light?"

Now that Jonathan mentions it, he does feel strangely lacking in mass.

"Perhaps this is a Stand that manipulates gravity," he reasons, "It would explain why it is able to lift us up."

"You should let go now," Jonathan urges.

"And leave you to your own devices?" Dio snorts. "A fall from this height might kill you, but I, Dio, will not be killed so easily."

Jonathan laughs.

"What is it now?"

"Nothing. It's just... I was thinking how strange this is."

"Your endeavors have always been strange," Dio mutters, thinking back to before. "You were interested in things no one else cared about." He chuckles too then, pulling himself up to latch onto Jonathan's shoulder. "I supposed I pitied you, even then."

"You have a strange way of pitying people," Jonathan replies, shifting his grip on the mask so that Dio too could hold on.

The conversation halts then as they continue to move upwards. It is a strange movement, almost like the mask is larger than it seems -- an elevator handlebar, even. Jonathan keeps his gaze upwards; Dio stares at the rapidly-shrinking ground.

Up, up, up --

Jonathan sneezes, blowing out mucus which instantly freezes.

"You're disgusting," Dio complains. He spits experimentally though, watching the immediately solid drop fall back down.

"Do you think it'll take us to the stars?" Jonathan asks, shivering.

"Impossible."

"What about outside the atmosphere?"

"I don't know." Dio switches hands then, shrugging out of his overcoat and securing the article to Jonathan's shoulder. To do so single-handedly is quite a feat.

"Aren't you cold?" Jonathan asks.

"I'm a vampire."

"I know that! Alright then, thank you." With difficulty, Jonathan wriggles his arms into the coat. He sighs happily, breaths forming semi-solid clouds, and grins despite himself.

Dio scowls.

There's something suitably scornful on the tip of his tongue but he does not get the opportunity to say it.

"We've stopped," Jonathan notes, looking around him.

"So we have," Dio agrees.

And then the freefall begins.

Down, down, down -- where the air friction burns at his cheeks. They're falling at terminal velocity, Dio vaguely thinks, watching as Jonathan encased himself in a coccoon of energy.

With the mask's strange energy field gone, they drift apart, falling still.

Jonathan is looking at him, looking over him. He suddenly screams, expression contorting.

"Dio -- " he starts, flailing desperately. He looks ridiculous, trying to swim his way over. "Dio, you -- "

He does not know what he was planning on saying. It does not matter.

Like clockwork, the sun peaks over the horizon.

Dio turns to ash before his eyes.

"Dio," he starts, hand outstretched.

"Dio," he repeats, fingers closing about nothing.

Jonathan howls the other man's name at the top of his lungs then. His fingers have lost their hold on the mask and he is still falling, falling fast.

Down and down; just him, just Jonathan.

His body reacts unconsciously -- a surge of Ripple pooling at his feet, allowing him to land in a thick forest with only cuts and scrapes for his troubles.

He grabs at the underbrush, scrabbles at the trees, and runs mud-covered hands across his face. In a frenzy, he gets up, desperately combing the nearby vicinity for something -- anything to show their shared childhood, their years of struggle, their odd alliance -- anything to show he had existed. The damning realization that all that remains of the other is his overcoat renders him temorarily immobile. He falls on his hands and knees and cries until his lungs give out.

Chapter Text

Although it feels like he lies down in that forest for an eternity, it cannot have been too long in the end. When Jonathan gets up and looks at his surroundings, the sun is still on the rise.

He stares at his hands for a while, looking for answers in his mud-coated palms.

The recurring question is... no. He does not want to think about it. His feet move on their own: left, right, left, right. One in front of the other, the follower turning into the leader. He concentrates on the motions, closing his eyes to take in the sounds of the forest.

The sun sets and night falls. The ground changes below his feet. And still, he continues to walk.

The sun rises and day breaks. The ground continues to change; his feet continue to move.

Many sunsets and sunrises pass, the days blowing by in quick succession. At some point, his body gives out and he collapses against the ground of an even thicker forest. When he wakes, moss is growing on his arms. He wipes it off by calling forth his Stand. And in revealing Hermit Purple, he thinks of Joseph. Before passing out, he had worried about his grandson chasing after him without his constant deflection of his scrying. But he has stopped deflecting for at least a week, perhaps even a month. The stars have changed their alignment, though not enough to warrant a season, and he travels in a direction parallel to Polaris.

Worrying about Joseph worrying about him reminds him that all is not lost, that he is not entirely alone. That there are still people he cares for -- that Erina cares for -- in this world. He's seized with an urge to see them then, those nebulous descendents of Joseph and himself. He is quite close to Japan no doubt, though a general pennilessness persists.

And so he decides: he will go to Japan and see his great-granddaughter and great-great-grandson. And then he will go destroy the final mask and rejoin Dio and Erina.

To travel such a distance is easier said than done. Even when he asks his Stand to point him in the direction of his descendents, its utility as a compass can only go so far.

More days pass as he continues walking, stopping only to eat the slightest amount of sustenance. His shoes and pants have been worn to threads, to say nothing of his multi-pocketed shirt. Because he is a sight to see, he makes sure to keep out of sight, using his Stand to warn for approaching people as well. Jonathan walks and walks and walks... until eventually he is in the easternmost province, at the coast of the East China Sea. To consistently walk on water for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of kilometers, he spends two nights at sea, surrounded by the sound of waves and underwater creatures, before collapsing a second time. He's fished out by a far eastern fisherman who speaks excitedly in a tongue he does not understand. The fisherman has a map and he gestures that Japan is his final destination. He tries to explain that he will work for his stay; he ends up single-handedly pulling the haul in each day. He learns a bit of the fisherman's language, Korean by the markings on the map, and they make light conversation and easy jokes to pass the days.

Eventually, the small boat docks along the port of Fukuoka. Jonathan helps the fisherman load up his wares, realizing upon waving good-bye that they had never exchanged names. Although it is foolish, he shouts his own across the wooden planks. The fisherman waves goodbye a second time. He continues his path, ducking into the forests when possible and dashing across the valleys when necessary. Even the distance from one harbor to the next is nothing to laugh at and by the time Purple Hermit directs him down the right street, his feet are bare and his clothing is shredded at the elbows and knees.

And still, the heaviness persists.

He immediately recognizes the woman who slides open the front door to be Holly Kujo, Joseph's daughter. What surprises him is that she recognizes him just as quickly, letting out a small gasp before throwing her arms about him. Later, Holly will explain that she had seen him in Erina's photographs. That though his clothes were threadbare and his expression world-weary, he was still undoubtably the same person. At the moment, he leans into the hug, squeezing her tightly in return.

Their first meeting is interrupted by a stone being thrown as Jonathan's shoulder. He lets go and looks up, just in time to see a uniform-clad schoolboy with a scowl on his face.

He -- Jotaro -- growls something in Japanese.

"Oh my...!" Holly exclaims in English, "It's not what you think, Jotaro!" she wraps her arms around Jonathan's arm, beaming, "Do you remember your grandfather in New York?"

"The one who never comes to visit?" Jotaro counters.

"Yup! Well this," she lets go, swinging out her hands as if displaying a treasure, "Is your grandfather's grandfather!"

Jonathan smiles sheepishly, bowing as he had seen in books. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Jonathan Joestar."

His great-great-grandson gives a little 'tch', rolling his eyes.

"How stupid do you think I am?" he asks, crossing his arms and glaring. "You're saying that thing there is my great-great-grandfather? He looks even younger than you!"

"Ah well it's a bit of a long story," Holly starts, putting an arm around Jonathan and ushering him into the house, "And I'm sure he can explain it better than me. But for now let's get you into something more comfortable, hmm?"

"No!" Jotaro shouts, stomping his foot. "When Dad is gone, I'm the man of the house, and I say we throw him onto the streets!"

"There's no need," Jonathan tries, right as Holly says:

"Jotaro Joestar Kujo, you show your great-great-grandfather some respect!"

"You're still going on about that? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"It's the truth!" Holly insists.

"So what, he's a hundred years old?" Jotaro's gaze shifts to him then, looking him up and down. Jonathan has seen that look before, most often in other rugby players. The other is sizing him up and judging from his cocksure expression, confident in the end result.

"One hundred and twenty," Jonathan supplies, holding up his hands. "I understand it's a great deal to take in -- "

"You understand shit," Jotaro hisses, turning to glare at his mother. "You bring this man back when Dad isn't home and expect me to believe your stupid stories, what do you mean I have to show your lover -- "

His tirade is interrupted with his mother's resounding slap.

"Jotaro," Holly says in Japanese in a dangerously low tone, "Your father is not home right now because he's a famous musician. I have been faithful to him for twenty years and I will be faithful for twenty more, at least." She reaches out a hand to grab onto Jonathan's arm -- Jonathan, who had been trying to sneak away -- and pulls him towards the main compound. "This man is your grandfather's grandfather and he will be my welcome guest if not yours."

Jonathan wisely keeps quiet in the aftermath, allowing himself to be led into the traditional estate. Holly throws him into the baths, and when he comes out decked in towels, she gives him a traditional robe and pair of shoes and socks, along with the other essentials. They are from her husband's closet unfortunately, so the fit is tight in places, but the natural cut of the clothing allowed for easy breathing. When she is securing the knot in the back of the robe, Jotaro throws open the door. He takes one glance and mutters something in Japanese under his breath, slamming the wood-and-paper pane shut.

"I'm sorry about him," Holly murmurs, clearly near tears, "He's really a very good boy -- always bringing me gifts for my birthday and Mother's Day -- it's just that his father is never home and his classmates won't stop talking and oh...!"

"I know," Jonathan says, wiping the tears from her face. "I'm sure if I was in his position, I would react the same. I'll try my best to explain things once he's cooled down."

"I'm not sure he'll listen..." Holly sniffs, finishing the knot. "He's getting to the point where he won't even listen to me! Ah, there, all done."

"Thank you," Jonathan turns about, examining himself in the mirror, "I know that he might never believe me, but it doesn't hurt to try. If I may ask..."

"Yes?"

"Why is it you believe me so easily?"

"Because I've seen you in great-grandmother's photo album! And my own father looks younger than me -- the last time I saw him that is -- so I'm used to seeing strange things!" Holly laughs, patting him on the back, "Thank you for excusing Jotaro... I haven't told him or Sadao, my husband I mean, about Papa's adventures. When he was telling me about them, they were just so bizarre!"

"But you believed him in the end?"

"Only after he showed me how he could keep water from falling in an upside-down cup!"

They share a familiar chuckle then at the ridiculousness of the situation. Holly brings out a spare futon, telling him that this is the room they were going to give Joseph for any potential visits, and that he should rest up. Jonathan gratefully complies, pulling over the layers of comforter and sleeping indoors for the first time in months. His dreams are a mish-mash of regrets and temptations however, and when Holly rings the bell signalling dinner, he wakes up in a cold sweat.

During dinner, Jotaro wedges himself between the two of them. That had no doubt been his plan at least, but Holly has made space him already. She has cooked a traditional Western meal: meat and potatoes with salad on the side, and Jonathan gluttonously digs in. Although Jotaro finishes first by the nature of having eaten little, he stays in the dining room longer. Holly asks if Jonathan would like tea, he says yes but with milk and sugar; Jotaro's upper lip curls in disgust. While Holly is away, heating the kettle and searching for an easier-to-hold teacup, Jonathan tries to start a conversation.

Jotaro is unresponsive; giving single-syllable answers before ignoring him altogether.

Jonathan sighs, wracking his mind. What would be sufficient proof that he was who he was? He extends Hermit Purple then, mildly surprised when his great-great-grandson cannot see it, and presses it against his temples.

"Jotaro, pick a number."

"Aren't you supposed to say between one and ten?"

"Any number will do."

Jotaro glares at him, huffing, but he picks a number anyways.

"75,412," Jonathan says.

His great-great-grandson maintains his poker face.

"Would you like to try again?"

"No."

"-34/100,001."

Jotaro's eyes narrow.

"Who are you?" he demands, "And what do you want with us?"

"As your mother has said, my name is Jonathan Joestar and I am your grandfather's grandfather." He pauses, considering, "As for what I want... well, I suppose I wanted to see the two of you. We're relatives after all."

Jotaro's scowl does not recede.

"If you are that old, why aren't you a shriveled crone?"

"There's an ability called the Ripple which, in addition to channeling energy, also helps you maintain your youth," Jonathan says with a straight face.

"And that's what lets you read my mind?" Jotaro prompts, raising an eyebrow.

"Well no, that's... a different ability." Jonathan winces, berating himself for having started on such a terrible foot. How was he supposed to explain Stands, much less the Ripple, to someone who could not see much less use either? Now Jotaro will think he's an especially crazy con artist! "I'm sorry," he says, quickly standing up, "This is too much to take in, I know. You are the man of the house and if you will not have me, I will respect your wishes. I hope you meet your grandfather someday... and let him know that being in Japan has made your mother very happy."

"Eh? Great-grampa?" Holly asks, returning with three piping hot cups of tea. "Where are you going?"

"Thank you for your hospitality," Jonathan murmurs, dipping his head, "But I'm afraid I cannot stay."

"Where will you go at this hour?!" Holly demands, setting down the tray, "You're welcome to leave, but why now? You only just -- "

Jonathan walks at a brisk pace towards the entrance of the compound. Blood is rushing through his ears -- a constant mantra of idiot, idiot, idiot -- and he does not want to hear the rest.

Surprisingly then, it is Jotaro who chases after him. It is Jotaro who reaches up and grabs him by the cuff of his robe.

It is Jotaro who says: "Stop".

Jonathan tenses, slowing turning around. Here in the dark with only decorative lanterns lighting the pathway, he cannot make out the teenager's expression.

"...Yes?" he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I still don't believe you, but you... you're not a bad person."

Jonathan tilts his head, voicing a wordless question.

"If staying makes that woman happy then I won't... I won't say otherwise," the youngest Joestar grinds out.

For the first time, Jonathan really looks at his great-great-grandson. Although he has hit his growth spurt, ending half a head below Jonathan, it is obvious from both build and gait that he still has more to grow. His limbs are far from langly, but their muscle definition is nonetheless lacking. Jotaro is still a boy, he realizes, a boy who has his family's best interests at heart, stuck with an American mother in a Japanese suburbia, a boy who has never met his grandparents nor had training in the Ripple.

"Jotaro," he finally addresses, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." Jotaro pauses, about to ask why, but when Jonathan is stepping forward and hugging him tight, "Wh-wh-what are you doing?! Get off of me you bastard!"

Jonathan steadfastedly ignores the other's teenage struggles. Eventually, Jotaro stills. Then he gives a long exhale before leaning in. It is enough for Jonathan, who slowly lets go, eyes lingering on the other's flustered expression.

"What was that for?" Jotaro demands.

"We're family," Jonathan explains with a wide-mouthed smile. "Humor an old man, will you?"

Having made their peace, the two of them return to Holly, who berates Jotaro for being so callous and then hugs them both. They drink their tea and Jonathan tells them of his adventures, carefully editing Dio out of his stories. Holly is filled to the brim with questions -- of what life was like back then and how her great-grandmother was in youth. Erina had doted especially on Holly, Jonathan realizes, and in that knowledge, the aching of his heart stills for a while. Jotaro sits to the side, silently sipping at his tea, but every once in a while he glances in Jonathan's direction, a question on the tip of his tongue. Although he does not ask any that night, or even the nights after, after a week he does ask Jonathan about the Ripple and Stands. Jonathan explains what Abdul and Zeppeli had told him, admitting that having either depended on luck.

"But you were trained in the Ripple," Jotaro presses.

"Yes," Jonathan nods. And there is it again, that expression in his great-great-grandson's eyes. A mix of hesitation and expectation, distinctly softer than before.

"Would you like me to teach you?" Jonathan blurts out. He winces then, having never even considered teaching someone the Ripple, and wonders if he misread the other.

Jotaro tenses then, averting his gaze and clenching his jaw. He makes the barest of movements then: a nod.

Jonathan laughs, relaxing significantly. "You could have asked! Did you think I would say no?"

"Shut up," his adorable descendent says, glaring without menace.

Fortunately, Jotaro's summer break has already begun. Holly is characteristically enthusiastic about the idea of additional bonding time, offering Jonathan the extensive backyard (complete with a spacious pond!) for training. The three of them fall into a routine then with Jonathan and Jotaro training five days a week and stopping only for meals. During the weekend, Jotaro takes preparatory courses in his current high school with Jonathan giving Holly a hand in household chores.

Despite their initial introduction, Jotaro is an extremely dedicated student. He does not question Jonathan's methods and manages to even out his breathing within a week. By the end of the second week, Jonathan catches him practicing at midnight and by the third week, he has mastered the Zoom Punch. He tries to tell Jotaro that there is no rush, that he is still growing so it would be best to keep his muscles from overexerting, but Jotaro grunts noncommittally, launching an attack of his own in response.

Jotaro has mastered most of the basics in five weeks' time and further improvement is just a matter of practice. Although neither of them say it -- indeed, very little is spoken throughout their sparring sessions now -- there is a familial closeness between them, between Jonathan and Jotaro and Jonathan and Holly. It is strange, but in the most basic of senses, both of them fulfill roles which he had never experienced in life. In Holly's perpetual doting, he finds the kindness he had expected in a mother. In Jotaro's youthful drive, he finds the determination he had expected in a son. He doesn't see them as his own mother and son of course, and yet, living in such conditions is a balm for his soul.

Eventually, Jotaro's school starts up again -- he's to be a high schooler this year, Holly says, cooking up a veritable feast. Jonathan has learned to use chopsticks now, though he still can't stomach most raw foods, and Jotaro's Ripple is not far off in strength from his grandfather's. Jotaro snaps at his mother the next morning, insisting on shirking most of his uniform. Holly obliges, as is her way, and explains to Jonathan the importance of a high school debut.

"Oh!" she explains, when they're peeling potatoes one day.

"Is something the matter?" Jonathan asks.

"I just remembered something! Oh, it's nothing important, oh no, you don't need to keep peeling!" Without further explanation, she dashes off to the main office, rifling through her phonebook. "Hmm... ah... ah! Here it is!" she punches in the series of numbers, waiting for the dial tone.

"Hello?" the other side says.

"Papa!"

"Holly!" Joseph exclaims, and she can hear something dropping in the background, "Holly, how are you?"

"I'm fine Papa! More than fine, even! Jotaro has started high school already."

"Mm, mm! Is he taller than you?"

"He's been taller than me for years!" she pouts, thinking of how she had to stand on her tip-toes to give her son a kiss, "Oh, but remember how you told me to call you if anything happened?"

"Of course," Joseph replies, tone instantly serious. "What's the matter Holly? Has your negligent bastard husband -- "

"No Papa!" Holly interrupts, huffing. "But your grandfather is here!"

Joseph pauses then; Holly can practically see her father's brow crinkling.

"Jonathan?" he asks.

"Yes! He and Jotaro get along so well, you know! I think Jotaro really needed more guidance than I could provide. He even trained Jonathan in that magical art that you know!"

"The Ripple?" Joseph asks, "He trained Jotaro in the Ripple?! Wait, wait, how long has he been in Japan?!"

"Oh, um..." she thinks about it, "Three... no, maybe two and a half months?"

"Two and a half months?!" Joseph roars, "And you didn't think to call me? Oh my god," he sobs, "I truly do have the cruellest daughter in the world!"

"Oh Papa, don't be like that," Holly chides, smiling despite it all, "It's just he arrived so suddenly -- and in such a bad state! -- and of course I didn't think I would meet him, even when you told me that he wasn't actually dead. And then Jotaro didn't believe him and then he did, even if he still call him great-great-grandpa, and well... telling you just slipped my mind completely!"

"You're just like your mother," Joseph laments. Then his tone becomes serious once more, "Is it just Jonathan then?"

"Just...?"

"Like, did he arrive by himself?"

"Yes...? Why? Is there someone else?" she perks up, "Oh! Is great-grandmother still alive too?"

"What? No!" Joseph grumbles something about a bastard vampire.

"Vampire...?" his daughter repeats.

"It's not important," her father mutters, "So... did Gramps mention anything about his travels?"

"Hmmm... nothing about a vampire. He said he came from China and before that, India."

"I see." Joseph harrumphs, making the executive decision to leave his daughter in the dark. "Alright, well, I'm busy with something else at the moment so I can't come visit you -- "

"Papa! You're always busy!"

"Yes, and this is very important sweetie. For Jonathan too. Now I want you to listen to me: be good to your great-grandfather, he's been through a lot. I don't know what happened, but it looks like the person he was traveling with isn't with him any longer."

"Great-grandpa had a friend die?" Holly asks, eyes widening.

"I'm not sure if you could call it that... but look, that's not important. I think it's good he's teaching Jotaro about the Ripple -- he's a lot better than me, you know? And if he's staying in Japan, then that means... well." He pauses, shifting gears entirely, "Do you remember that necklace I gave you right before you left?"

"The one with a red jewel?"

"Yes, that one. Do you still have it?"

"Of course!" his daughter insists, pouting anew, "Papa, how mean do you think I am? It has its own hook in my jewelry cabinet! I wouldn't lose the last gift you gave me!"

"That's my girl," Joseph praises. "Well, so long as you have that, everything should be okay. I have to go now, do you have anything you want me to pass to your mother?"

"Just that I miss her and love her."

"Yeah, well," her father's voice breaks here, "We miss you and love you too."

"Papa...!"

"Take care, Holly," Joseph says, and then terminates the call. Holly Kujo remains sitting in her husband's office for a while after, staring at the buzzing line. Eventually, she hangs the phone up and sits for a while longer. Something about the conversation with her father had eaten at her, but she cannot pinpoint the reason. And then she jumps up, remembering that Jonathan had been left peeling potatoes, and dashes back to her great-grandfather only to discover all the potatoes had been fully peeled.

The three of them have sukiyaki that night. Holly and Jonathan ask Jotaro about his day at school; Jotaro gives his usual curt responses; after dinner, her son and great-grandfather spar a bit more. Jonathan calls it a night soon after, asking Jotaro if he had finished his homework. At his great-great-grandson's grunt, Jonathan ends up spending half the night working out math and literature.

The curiosity gnaws away at her -- what did her father mean by a traveling companion? why would Jonathan travel with someone he couldn't call a friend? why had Jonathan decided a year after meeting her father to meet with Jotaro and herself? -- but she appreciates the effect of his presence, especially towards Jotaro, too much to pry.

Jotaro's absence six days out of seven affects Jonathan greatly. His sleep, which had been plagued by demons for months, only grows worse and he finds himself drinking cup after cup of tea in an attempt to stay awake. At some point, Jotaro manages to land a solid hit in their training session. He sleeps without nightmares for the first time that night, and finds the next morning that he is running a high fever. It's overexertion, probably, but he insists on keeping a straight face throughout breakfast. After Holly has given Jotaro his goodbye kiss on the cheek, she goes back to her great-grandfather, reaching out a hand to feel his forehead.

"You might have fooled Jotaro, but my eyes are sharper than his," she smiles, poking his cheek.

"No, it's not -- " Jonathan tries, flushing redder.

"You need to go back to bed great-grandfather," she cheerily says. With willpower alone, she manages to heave him to his feet and shove him back into the futon. Jonathan blinks, and then there's a warm towel on his forehead and the smell of porridge and honey on a tray in his room.

"Thank you," he says, closing his eyes and trying to relax.

The towel is taken off, soaked and wrung, and then placed back on his head. Holly presses two fingers against his wrinkled brow.

Jonathan's eyes snap open.

"You should really relax," she pre-empts, stirring the porridge.

"I am," he lies, closing his eyes again.

"Papa told me that you carry the world on your shoulders," she starts, "And now that I've met you, I can agree with him."

"It's not like that..." Jonathan sighs, "I cannot live up to those expectations."

"Do you think you're a bad person then?"

Jonathan blinks, taken aback.

"I don't know," he admits. "I want to do the right thing, but sometimes... I don't know what that is. Everything was simpler a hundred years ago. When I was young, the world was split into the just and the unjust. But now..." he takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose, "I'm not sure I know what 'just' is."

If Holly is alarmed, she does a good job of not showing it.

"Talk to me," she says instead.

"About what?" her great-grandfather asks.

"What's on your mind. I know you won't share your burdens with me -- Papa and Sadao and Jotaro never will either -- but I can listen. I can care."

Jonathan hesitates, saying nothing for a while. And then Holly wrings out the towel for a third time, placing it on his sweaty brow once more, and the words flow from his mouth of their own accord.

"He was wrong," he starts, shaking his head. "I do not know why he did it, or why he suppresses it, but he put Erina and Joseph's mother into the second casket. Then he used the zombies to throw them out of the ship. Perhaps he planned to do the same for himself, I don't know. But he dragged me -- well, my body -- into his own casket. He closed the door and perhaps his calculations were off. Perhaps he was running out of energy. I wasn't there, and even after he revived me -- this is the first time, I mean -- I didn't know what happened. Yes, it was only after my Stand had manifested that I could see through his eyes.

"When I opened my own eyes then and saw darkness, I thought that I was in hell. But then he greeted me -- he, who had remained a head -- and complained that I was just as bad company then. He had revived me with his own blood, I don't know when or how long. We started talking then, for the first time in our lives. I asked him why he revived me, and he said it was out of respect. But hadn't he wanted my body for himself? I thought so too. But when I asked him, he did not reply.

"We talked and talked, and whenever I lapsed into unconsciousness, he would bring me back over the edge. I was jealous of him then, talking to him about my ambitions in life had made me want to pursue them again. I did not want to live forever, as he did, but I also did not want to die. I asked about Erina, about Danny and my father and my mother and his parents. Did he answer my questions? Were the few answers he gave lies? I couldn't tell, especially as my memory was already beginning to have gaps. At some point, I lost track of how many times I had been forced to wake up. I could tell however, by the sluggishness of his own responses, that his supply of blood was slowly running out.

"This was what I wanted, I knew. I wanted the two of us to sink to the bottom of the sea. I had given up the false promise of eternity with Erina for it, he never failed to remind me -- though only when I brought up the topic of his father. And yet, talking to him made me want to live. With only each other as company, we must have become closer, I cannot believe that that time spent in absolute darkness did not affect either of us. And though I was seized with a renewed urge to live, I was too weak to swim up, too weak to open the box.

"He didn't want to take my body, I think. At the end of it, I don't think either of us wanted what we gave our lives for. I told him this and he laughed at me. Perhaps I was tired then, perhaps I did not care. Perhaps I had fallen victim to his lies again -- perhaps he had convinced even himself. Either way, I told him that there was no way I would survive. My muscles were already beginning to atrophy, and soon I would be unable to move my mouth. He made oxygen in that small container and I have no idea how he managed it. Did he explain it to me? He liked explaining things. I told him to take his prize then, that I believed he would use his second chance well.

"He screamed at me then, you know? And I..." he trails off, closing his eyes. He has said too much. Joseph made him promise to keep Holly out of danger and he had agreed whole-heartedly.

I am fully responsible for the lives he has taken, Jonathan keeps from saying. And I had turned a blind eye to his hunger, thinking that he had changed. And then when it became obvious that he had not, I was thankful that my Stand was no longer in his possession. Because it meant that he could no longer access my thoughts. I researched ways to kill him, plotted on how to bring him into the sun when all the masks had been destroyed. I could have done so sooner, I could have overpowered him, especially after the third mask, but I didn't. Because along the way I had become more like him and he was, for my purposes, useful.

After the sorrow had taken its leave, a guilty relief had settled upon him.

Relief that he had not been made to kill Dio a fourth time.

Relief that the choice had not been his to make.

Relief that the responsibility was no longer his own.

He is vaguely aware of Holly leaving, of Jotaro returning. His great-great-grandson opens the door and stands at the treshold for a while, muttering something in Japanese before taking his leave. His fever breaks overnight and he wakes yet again from a peaceful slumber. It is already past noon of the next day and Jotaro is already at school. Holly comes running with more soup and porridge, insisting that he take it easy, at least for another day. She peels and cuts three apples for him, leaving them on a plate before going out to the markets.

After he's finished the fruit, he gets up and changes his clothes. Then he walks before the mirror and activates his Stand.

For months, he had put off doing this. The certainty petrifies him.

Where is Jotaro? he asks his Stand. The mirror image warps, showing his descendent sleeping in class.

He takes a deep breath, dispersing the previous response.

"And... where is Dio?"

The vines quiver and his reflection flickers. There is a second of darkness, and then, nothing.

'This is a blessing', he insists, even as the tears are falling.

Unbeknownst to Jonathan, a teenage boy with a camcorder is crouched underneath the window to his room. When Jonathan sinks to his knees, the boy closes the device, turning it off and slipping it into his backpack. Then he dashes off, twisting and turning about the neighborhood before sliding down the handrail to the bottom of the hill. His own home is a ways away; it will take twenty minutes to get back. As it is, he reaches into his backpack and ejects the recording. Then he gathers it with a dozen other tapes, tossing them into a satchel and holding said bag outstretched.

On cue, there is a loud shriek. Then an enormous bird -- a golden eagle, perhaps? -- swoops down and plucks the satchel from his hand. It flaps its great wings, quickly gaining altitude, and it soon disappears into the sky.

Eventually, the bird descends, landing on Vanilla Ice's arm and drawing blood with its free talon. It tosses the sack filled with cassettes at him before going to roost.

Vanilla pops the first tape into a player and calls forth his Stand, stepping into Cream's mouth and presenting both recording and recordings to his master.

"Very good," Dio praises, motioning for him to set it down. He waves his hand and Vanilla steps back out, leaving Dio to watch the playback. After he's sped through sixteen hours of recording -- Jonathan arriving at his descendent's house, Jonathan teaching his great-great-grandson, Jonathan helping his great-granddaughter hang the laundry, Jonathan tutoring his great-great-grandson, Jonathan eating a traditional Japanese meal with them -- he watches as Jonathan stands before the mirror, smiling at the other man's tears.

Then he rewinds it slightly, looking at a scene of Jonathan playing charades with the other two.

Jojo's expression is carefree and stupid, as it should be.

Dio laces his fingers, considering. And he knows: there is an opportunity here too.

He destroys both cassette and television then, using his Stand to force his way out of Cream's mouth.

"Thank you," he says, when Vanilla is immediately on his hands and knees. His lips curl then and he twirls the fifth Stone Mask on his finger. "There are some things I must take of, but I trust you will execute the rest of my plan?"

"I am a servant to your will," Vanilla dutifully responds.

"Good. I have already told Pet Shop, along with the others and those under the influence of my spores, to listen to you without hesitation. Do not let me down."

"I would never!" the other repeats, kissing the point of Dio's shoe.

Soon, Dio thinks, setting off into the night.

Soon.

Chapter Text

When Jonathan takes back the fourth mask and smashes it into rubble, a spark of hatred flares through Dio. He could scream; he wants to make the other hurt. He holds himself back of course, reasoning later that it was because of moments like these that Jojo had become a worthy rival. Even now, though he was slower in adapting and still incapable of seeing the inherent value of wealth, he could match Dio strike for strike, toddling about at his own pace.

There is a cleverness in Jojo that is unlike his own. There is never any malice in Jojo's ingenuity, from that time he lit his own fists on fire in Windknights to when he used the Ripple to possess Wang-Chan on the boat, there is only ever the intent to get from Point A to Point B. The latter in their current situation, for Jojo at least, is finding all the masks, destroying them, killing Dio, and then killing himself. Jojo has told Dio as much and though it irritates him, he cannot say they come as a surprise.

He needs to change his own plans, however, taking into account Jojo's actions.

The first step is splitting off, a piece of cake in the middle of the night. He calls up the younger D'arby who relays his orders to Enya the hag. Vanilla Ice is sent to Europe then, looking for someone of similar height and build. He finds him within days, reassuring Dio that the man's body was nothing when compared to his own. Dio has Vanilla bring the man to China, while his recently-acquired pet (aptly named Pet Shop by Bastet's user) comes at his beckoning. It can move about in the day and takes down a helicoptor, freezing it along with its pilot.

Dio rewards the bird with some of his blood, its favorite treat, before commanding it to unfreeze the vehicle. And then he's inserting a mind control spore into the pilot and picking up the wayward Joestar. They arrive into China within a day, at sunset actually, and Jonathan is furious even when Dio did not kill the pilot but then, Jonathan is perpetually righteous. They're both irritated at one another then, and Dio takes pleasure in sucking more than enough blood.

Vanilla Ice greets him soon afterwards, presenting a corpse swathed in layers of silk. Dio tells him to find someone else -- anyone -- because he needs a test subject. While Vanilla is searching for another victim, Dio dribbles his blood into the mouth of the corpse, rolling it off of its coverings and placing Jonathan atop the sheets. He sucks a bit more of the other man's blood then, just to be certain.

By the time Vanilla returns with a struggling and shrieking local, Dio's body double has already awoken. Dio instructs him to stay in the shadows, out of sight, and to cross over to the island if the man sleeping in the forest was disturbed. If Vanilla has any thoughts about the command, he does not voice them, wordlessly following Dio to the island where the fifth mask was housed.

Because they don't have Hermit Purple, they waste a good deal of time finding the right Stone Mask. The test subject has already been implanted with a spore however, and he is the one who is searching. Eventually, he finds the mask tangled by vines and activates it by touch. The two of them observe as the local rises higher and higher, until the mask has reached its limit. When the test subject is a splatter on the ground; the mask floats back to its place.

The Stand ability of the fifth mask is certainly unexpected. And to have to fool Jonathan at such a height...

But he is more than clever -- he is brilliant. The challenge of faking his death in such conditions would forge a stronger sense of permanence. And he does want Jonathan to think him dead and he needs to take the fifth mask. Perhaps it is his own greed that spirals such intelligence; he wants to surpass both 'Heaven' and 'Fate' and he wants Jonathan to bear witness and be the obtainee to his success.

Vanilla Ice and his Stand are ideal for this illusion.

Most fitting however, is Vanilla's personality. When Dio explains his plan, there is no hesitation, there is no chance for improvement. Vanilla does not ask why such complications are necessary; Vanilla does not suggest killing Jonathan. He knows -- as everyone should know -- that Dio has thought this through more than himself and that, if the option of killing Jonathan was viable, then Dio would have taken it into account.

It will not be so bad, he thinks, spending an inordinate amount of time in the other man's nebulous Stand.

They go back to the riverbank where Jonathan and Dio's double are resting, and Vanilla manifests Cream, hiding himself and the body double in its mouth before disappearing.

Jonathan wakes after a day and a night and they journey to the island despite the encroach of dawn.

And then they are being lifted up by the fifth mask's powers and Jonathan is sneezing and shivering and Dio is giving him another coat. He is struck with a temptation to kiss him then, to tangle his fingers in Jonathan's hair, to give Jojo a proper goodbye. But this is not the end and everything will go according to plan.

When the fall starts, he knows that he is the one most at risk. That though Vanilla bears earnestness in every sense, miscalculations were still possible.

But he does not falter.

Trust. It is an aspect which he had not bothered with in the nineteenth century, an aspect which Jonathan had somehow ingrained in him. He, who could never have faith in anyone else for everyone else was too slow-witted and weak, all talk and no fight, he had begun to prepare for Jojo at every twist and turn. No, more than that, he had begun to expect him. The respect which he had professed to, he still has it, even now.

Which is why he feels no relief when Cream splits apart space right before him.

In that split second, he actives The World and in the time stop, jumps into the Stand and switches clothes with his body double. Seeing the newly-made vampire up close, his body structure is remarkably like that of Dio's own and his hair has been made into an identical style. The idea of Vanilla Ice wielding scissors and comb on the corpse is an amusing one, to say the least. And then the time stop ends, Vanilla closes the entrance, and Jonathan watches him burn up.

Jonathan reacts even better than he thought, mourning for days and walking for weeks. At some point, he collapses from exhaustion over the open sea and Dio has to send Pet Shop and Dark Blue Moon's user to fish him out. Being on a boat speeds up Jonathan's journey significantly, though the stolen boat does not have docking permission in Tokyo.

Vanilla manages his affairs for half a year then, recruiting other Stand users via proxy and sending books and women in the void. And Dio bides his time, waiting.

Finally, his spy in Japan -- a high school student the same age as Jonathan's great-great-grandson -- catches Jonathan using Hermit Purple to search for him. Pet Shop brings the proof to him and he destroys the evidence upon confirmation. Now that the wait is over and Jojo is suitably convinced of his death, he deigns it necessary to meet the additional Stand users. He allows Pet Shop a week's worth of rest before sending him back to Japan for the purpose of relaying further instructions.

And so it happened that Noriaki Kakyoin was staring at his latest order.

Convince the Kujo family to visit their relatives in New York, the neatly scrawled missive says.

The enormous bird perched on his windowsill glares at him. Its master will not take no for an answer.

"Of course," he says, bowing his head low. "You can consider it done."

Pet Shop gives a warning cry before taking its leave, and Noriaki is left staring at the curt order.

"Easier said than done..." he mutters, rubbing at the spore on his forehead. "And why am I the one taking orders from a bird?"

He skips school for the next week to stake out at the Kujo's house. His best bet is catching the woman, as she alone was in charge of finances. If it were just her and her son, it would be easy, however, with the addition of the second young man who seemed to be some unemployed martial artist far too graceless to appreciate womanly charms, it had become signficantly more difficult to meet with the mother alone.

Noriaki's patience pays off however, when Jonathan volunteers to do grocery shopping. The melons are on sale today, Noriaki hears the mother say, and there's a fifteen-melon limit per household.

So he steps up to bat, knocking on her front door.

"Yes~?" a woman's voice calls in English, "Did you forget some... oh my! I'm sorry," she switches immediately to Japanese, "I thought you were someone else. Hello, can I help you?"

For a moment, he is tongue-tied. Quiet, kind, and caring housewives had always been his ideal and he had thought he wanted the demure Japanese woman all his life, but then she had greeted him.

"Oh, no," he stammers, eyes going from her face to her chest, then ducking down to his shoes. He hopes his face isn't as hot at it feels, "I should be the one apologizing. I accidentally lost hold of a very important charm and I believe it flew into your backyard, could you take a look for me?"

"Oh my, a lost charm? Is it a good luck one?"

No, but I'd like you to be my lucky charm.

"In a sense," he says, bowing again, "Thank you so much."

"Oh no worries. Here, why don't you help me look for it. Come on in."

"Please excuse me," he murmurs, trying to quiet his palpitations.

"What does it look like?" Holly asks, leading the way to the garden.

"A small red trinket with a gold coin in the middle," Noriaki dutifully recites.

"My, that sounds valuable! Well, here we are. I'm not too sure where it might have gone... do you remember where you were standing when you lost your charm?"

"If the main road is that way then... I was likely standing..." he points to the large maple tree against the left wall, "On the other side of that tree."

As it is late October, the tree leaves are speckled yellow and gold. Noriaki fakes a soft groan, burying his face in his hands. "I am so sorry about this..." he mutters, shaking his head, "Perhaps it will fall down with the leaves, I'll just -- "

Holly one-ups him then, shimmying up the tree and rooting about it while giving the teenage an eyeful.

You are a bad, bad, man, his conscience drawls. Noriaki could not care less.

"Ah!" he exclaims, "Please be careful! My charm is not worth injury!"

"Don't worry, I used to take gymnastics in my youth," Holly cheerfully says, continuing to root about the tree. "Ah! You're in luck, here it is -- !"

Fortune has smiled on Noriaki Kakyoin; not only was he able to meet the love of his life and get a good view of her modest undergarments, but she was also on top of him for a moment.

"I'm so sorry about that!" Holly apologizes, leaping to her feet and offering the good luck charm.

I'd catch you anyday, his woozy teenage mind mumbles.

"It's no problem, thank you very much." He takes the charm and, remembering the reason he came, sheds a couple crocodile tears. "I'm sorry for getting this emotional... this charm is the last gift my grandfather gave me."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Holly says, expression softening. "But I'm sure he must have loved you very much."

"He did. But I..." he swallows, rubbing at his eyes, "I just regret not seeing him more often. My parents always told me that I would miss his nagging and old-fashioned ways. I laughed at them when they told me that, you know?"

Holly simpers sympathetically, offering him kind words and a tissue. But there is an uncertainty in her movements, and when she leads Noriaki to the front entrance, there's a weakness in her gait. He returns to his own home, heart pounding, and smiles at a job well done.

The regrets of the teenage boy who, in retrospect, she had never gotten to asking the name of, stay in the back of Holly's mind for a while. She thinks of how eager Jotaro is to come back from school and train, how excitedly her own father had told her about Jonathan's revival, and Jonathan's own goals. She already knows that he does not plan to stay in Japan for long -- these past four months have been like a dream to her. With him around, not only is the house livelier, but there's constant company throughout the day. Why must the men in her life all be so ambitious, she finds herself thinking bitterly, and how would she be able to convince Jotaro otherwise?

In the middle of November, she is interrupted splitting peas with a phone call.

"Coming!" she announces, dashing to the study. "Hello, Kujo residence!"

The voice on the other end makes her happier than anything, but she should know better. Her husband never called with good news; no, if it were good news, he would be coming home.

"Yes," she says, biting her bottom lip. "Of course I understand honey. No, no, everything is fine. Jotaro misses you of course, but his grades have been better than ever! Yes, he's in high school already!"

"No. I'll be okay. Yes, I miss you too. Happy Holidays then. I love you!" she's crying all-out by the time Sadao hangs up.

So. It would be another Christmas when he was touring. Another Christmas with just herself and Jotaro and the whispers and stares of the neighbors.

It takes her another two days to ask about Jonathan and Jotaro's plans. Her son gives his usual noncommital grunt, her great-grandfather says he doesn't have any. And so she claps her hands together and announces that, in celebration of her husband's newest tour, they would be going to New York to visit Joseph and Suzie. Jonathan is enthusiastic; Jotaro makes no comment. With the two of them agreeable, she smiles and gets to work calling her father.

"Holly!" Joseph greets, "Calling me twice in two months? Are you finally ready to come home sweetie?"

"No Papa," she laughs, "But because Sadao won't be home this Christmas either, I figured we -- Jotaro, great-grandfather, and me, I mean -- would come visit you and Mama for Christmas and New Years!"

Joseph pauses, breath catching.

"Oh! Wow, that's great! How long will you be coming for? Have you booked your tickets yet? When do you plan to come?"

"Oh, I was thinking two or three weeks? No, I haven't booked them yet, and..." she purses her lips, brow furrowing, "Papa, is something the matter?"

"What?"

"Your voice. It sounds... funny."

"Oh, that's just the end of a cold your mother gave me," Joseph heartily replies, "I'm fine sweetie!"

"Are you still refusing to drink soup?" his daughter demands, putting a hand on her hip.

"Of--of course not! You know I love drinking your mother's soup! Mm-mm, those peas! In fact, I think I'll -- "

"Papa!" his daughter sighs, "You have to take good care of yourself too!"

"I will, I will. But enough about me, when are you guys coming?"

"I was thinking December 20th to January 5th? Jotaro only has two weeks' of break for this and we'll actually be missing school in the middle..."

"Oh my god! Even my grandson is coming?!"

"That's what I said!"

"What is he like? Does he speak English? What sort of toys are popular in Japan? Does he have a Walkman?!" Joseph blazes through a field of questions, no doubt planning to comb through department stores.

"Hmmm... I know he doesn't have a Walkman, but he likes listening to the radio more than music. Oh! But he speaks English -- it's what he and great-grandfather talk in, after all!"

"Aaargh -- and I can't believe my grandfather has met my grandson before me!" Joseph wails.

"Ah, the water is boiling -- got to run Papa, call me when you've bought the tickets! Tell Mama I'll see her soon!"

Her announcement that they will be making a Christmas pilgrimage to New York is met with the expected responses. Jotaro, though he won't show it, is likely very excited. Jonathan admits to her that Jotaro had asked him how a fight against Joseph would be like. Holly winces dramatically, making Jonathan promise to stop Jotaro from training on Christmas and New Years at least. Joseph calls her the next day, confirming the tickets, and they arrive by post in the next week. A couple days before the end of Jotaro's term, Holly chances upon the boy who lose his good-luck charm in the shopping center. They both thank each other profusely, but again forget to introduce themselves.

Their's is certainly a remarkable reunion.

Exiting the arrival gates at the JFK airport, Joseph barrels past grandson and grandfather, pulling his daughter into a crushing embrace. Holly shrieks, dropping suitcase and purse, and her father swings her up into the air. Suzie hugs Jonathan and then squeals over Jotaro, Jotaro who tugs at his cap and tries to keep from blushing. Abdul is standing off to the sidelines; Jonathan goes over to greet him, until eventually they're both called over for a group photo. They troop back to the Joestar mansion, where Suzie excitedly tells them how Holly's room had been occupied by Jonathan for months (even Jotaro chuckles at that image) and how much she's prepared for dinner. Joseph tries to subtly ask his grandson what he'd like for Christmas; Jotaro immediately asks for a one-on-one spar.

As it turns out, Jotaro has made leaps and strides. Although his Ripple still lacks range, his precision is unbelievable. He's not as tricky as his grandfather or headstrong as his great-great-grandfather, but a more temperate mix of the two. Joseph is delighted and envious of course -- happy to have a grandson who knows the Ripple, sad that he didn't get to play teacher himself.

Abdul has been in New York for some time, here for research with the Speedwagon Foundation. In the same way Dio had gathered Stand users, Abdul is gathering information on Stands. Joseph is especially interested, though they make sure to keep quiet around Jotaro.

Holly and Suzie have years' worth of conversation between mother and daughter to make up on. More than that however, Holly has brought Japanese recipes and ingredients back with her and she is determined to get her father to enjoy something traditional. Jonathan helps out with household chores, visiting Erina and the university library at other times. He realizes he is mostly recovered, that the grief is not so tender. He is able to tell Joseph and Abdul about Dio's passing without crying at least. Abdul and Joseph exchange skeptical glances, asking him how the vampire died, and Jonathan reveals the whole story then.

Joseph claps a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug, and reassures him that such things, when left to fate, would surely turn out for the best.

Come Christmas morning and no one is bounding down the stairs, even though Joseph's hands are littered with paper cuts from wrapping mishaps. In fact, Jotaro needs to be dragged out of bed and moodily thanks his grandmother for the wrong present. There's hats, socks, scarves, and shoes -- the usual useful gifts -- as well as cameras, telephone cards, video cassettes, and records. There's locally-cured sweetmeats and hand-dipped chocolate strawberries -- shipping from the West Coast! -- and even a pretty music box.

As her husband attests to, Suzie goes all out for this Christmas feast, the first time with Jotaro and Jonathan and Abdul and the first time in twenty years with Holly. There is turkey and lamb cutlets and three prime cuts of beef, mashed potatoes and gravy and cranberry-stuffing-filled rice balls and the coup de grace is the whole roasted pig. They'll be eating leftovers until the next decade, Joseph complains, and his wife shuts him up with more soufflé.

On the other side of the world, Dio has finally touched down in Japan.

Enya the hag had considered the deed beneath him; Vanilla Ice had agreed. Both of them had volunteered to go in his stead; he had declined them both. This is something he, Dio, must do on his own.

When the taxi pulls up at the Kujo's front entrance, he leaps over the entranceway, making use of his lockpicking skills to open the front door. After that, it's simply a matter of rifling about Holly Joestar's bedroom. She is a simple woman, he thinks, putting the Red Stone of Asia in her beaudoir. But then, it was highly possible Joseph didn't tell her its value. He puts everything back in its place and exits, preening a bit. All those conversations with Jonathan's grandson had not been without purpose -- it was only through talking to the other man that he deduced the Red Stone (which the German said had been lost in the final battle) was still in Joseph's possession by the end of the Second World War.

Joseph had given it to the person he wanted to protect most, thinking it would be a good luck charm and a defensive mechanism against the Ripple. It was the perfect wedding present for his only daughter who was going to a distant land and did not have any propensity for the Ripple.

Upon arriving back at his hotel room however, he encounters a problem. The Stone Mask which he possessed did not have any slots for the Red Stone. He knew for a fact that sunlight was necessary to activate it, and it seemed a basic fusion would be enough, but putting his head out in the sunlight presented too much of a risk.

Dio regards the mask. He snaps the Red Stone out of its necklace chain, turning it in his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, the jewel will not fit in the mask's eye sockets or mouth.

He spends an hour puzzling through the mechanics of the mask before deciding to see the sights and sounds of Japan. Enya had provided him with some especially interesting information, the final piece to his attaining 'Heaven' and he wants to see it with his own eyes.

For New Year's Eve, Joseph somehow manages to reserve a standing spot a few meters from the New Year's Ball Drop in Times Square. And so the six of them make the midnight trek to Manhattan, where they stand shivering in their new gloves and scarves and coats and boots.

Right as the final countdown is beginning however, Joseph falters.

"Joseph!" Jonathan shouts, leaping forward to catch him. He manages to prevent Joseph from hitting the frozen ground, however, it's obvious the other is in pain.

"Papa...!"

"Jojo! What's wrong?!"

"Nothing!" Joseph insists, gritting his teeth and standing up. He grins, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, "I told you I was a little sick right? Well, I -- " his statement is made worthless when his knees buckle under him. This time, Joseph and Abdul are needed to support him.

"Mr. Joestar -- " Abdul starts.

"Abdul!" Joseph barks, "Don't you dare!"

"Abdul, what's wrong?" Suzie presses, pulling at his sleeve, "What's wrong with Jojo? Jojo, why don't you tell us anything?!"

"Nothing's wrong...!" her husband hisses, proceeding to pass out.

They pile into two taxis then and speed back to the mansion. As soon as Joseph is put to bed and Holly and Suzie are tending to him, Jonathan excuses himself to speak with Abdul. Jotaro follows both of them out.

"Abdul, what's wrong with Joseph?" Jonathan immediately asks.

"Is he going to die?" Jotaro adds, setting his jaw.

"He has been suffering for the past year," the Egyptian Stand user admits. "I urged him to tell you, but he insisted otherwise. I must say I cannot blame him, considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

For a while, Abdul does not say anything.

He casts a guilty glance back at the sickroom, before rising to meet the consequences.

"Mr. Joestar," Abdul addresses, looking him in the eye, "Surely you have seen many Stands at this point. They encompass abilities of every shape and size. Some overlap, others encompass, but I do not think there exists an identical Stand. While it is not uncommon for family members to have Stands with similar abilities, don't you consider it strange and you and your grandson have such similar Stands?"

"Oh god..." Jonathan whispers, leaning against the wall.

"What?" Jotaro demands, "What does that mean?!"

"Your grandfather and great-great-grandfather do not have two Stands with identical names and abilities. They share the same Stand which, for whatever reason, was meant to be for your grandfather."

"Joseph would have naturally developed a Stand..." Jonathan realizes, "But when Dio -- when he was in my body -- when he forced his own Stand to awaken by pricking my still-dead body with the needle..."

"Yes," Abdul agrees, nodding gravely. "That is the same conclusion we came to. Bloodlines seem to be able to flow backwards as well. So when your body was pricked, it is likely you were not meant to have a Stand. But because of Dio's will, because he wanted to survive above all else, your body obeyed and took control of Joseph's Stand before it fully manifested for him."

"But what does that have to do with the old man's sickness?!" Jotaro erupts.

"Stands are a manifestation of spirit. So Mr. Joestar -- "

" -- is having his energy drained each time I activate Hermit Purple," Jonathan finishes. "Oh god," he groans, "I can't believe I didn't notice it. And all this time, I thought that my Stand, being noncombatative, was supposed to take less energy to maintain than Dio's! And all the times I subsisted on sunlight for days and still could use it...!"

"He will not die," Abdul reassures, "But his own energy has steadily been growing weaker."

"So what can we do?" Jotaro repeats.

Abdul looks at Jonathan again.

"Mr. Joestar would not approve," he says.

"Well," Jonathan grins, gathering the Ripple in his left hand, "He can complain after he's recovered,"

Chapter Text

As situational comedy tends to go, the situation begins with a misunderstanding and escalates further with each reaction.

Relying entirely on the interactions of Jotaro and his mother, it is understandable for others to think him rough around the edges. However, like his great-great-grandfather (and grandfather), his protective instincts immediately kick into gear when friends and family are endangered. After discussions with both mother and grandfather, he is aware that Jonathan is always, to some extent, planning his own death.

So he counters with an attack of his own, leaning behind the other to use his own Ripple, touching the pressure points in charge of consciousness.

Jonathan's eyes are like saucers, then they roll back and he falls not unlike a stone. Jotaro and Abdul catch him, exchanging similarly grim glances.

"You didn't stop me," Jotaro almost accuses.

"I would have done the same," Abdul admits.

Holly exits the master bedroom at this point and shrieks upon seeing Jonathan unconscious.

"Great-grandpa! Oh no, what happened?! Mom!" she hollers, gesturing wildly, "We need another bed!"

"Don't make such a racket," Jotaro grumbles, "I only knocked him out."

"You what?!"

"In defense of your son," Abdul interjects, "I believe your great-grandfather was about to harm himself."

"What!" Holly looks from Abdul to Jotaro, then down to Jonathan.

"Holly, who else needs a -- " her mother asks, peeking out from the room. Her gaze lands on Jonathan and she blanches. "Oh no! What happened to Jojo's grandpa?"

"Abdul can explain after," Jotaro mutters, lifting up Jonathan's legs, "Let's get him into bed first."

After Jonathan has been tucked in, resting on an air mattress set up next to Joseph, Abdul explains the situation to Holly and Suzie. As neither of them can see Stands, they are understandably shocked. Jotaro concludes the explanation by saying Jonathan had been concentrating his Ripple in one hand and he probably would have hit himself with it.

"That's so terrible..." Holly sniffs.

"Isn't there anything we can do...?" Suzie asks, looking from husband to grandfather-in-law.

"Not that I know of," Abdul sighs, rubbing his temples. "I know of a Stand that can remove other Stands without killing the individual, but apparently it hasn't chosen a new master yet."

"Not to mention this is a case of half a Stand," Jotaro adds.

"Yes. There is that complication as well."

"So..." Holly starts, squeezing her mother's hand, "Where does that leave us?"

"What do you mean?"

"What will we do when great-grandfather... I mean, when Jonathan wakes up? Won't he try the same thing again?"

"I'll make him sleep again," Jotaro readily replies.

"For the rest of his life?!"

"The problem is," Abdul admits, "This is the first time I've seen this happening. Of course, both their circumstances -- well, the older one especially -- are extraordinary, so everything I've told you is entirely conjecture."

"So it's possible that they aren't sharing the same Stand?" Suzie presses.

"Yes. However, Jonathan did say that he did not notice any energy expenditure on his own part, which is good evidence that Hermit Purple does not rely on his spirit for sustenance."

"Maybe it's because he has so much energy that he doesn't notice any missing?" Holly suggests, "I mean, Papa and Jotaro are both strong, but according to them, great-grandfather is even stronger!"

"That is possible as well," Abdul agrees, nodding. "But again, unlikely."

"If he's a Ripple user, he'll be able to sense his own energy usage," Suzie points out, "And my mistress, I mean Lisa Lisa -- Joseph's mother, that is -- said that she could see other people's energy usage."

"...Oh," Holly murmurs, shoulders hunching.

The silence is interrupted by the swing of the door.

"Jotaro! Where are you going?!"

"Sleep," her teenage son replies. And then he adds: "Get me if gramps is about to wake up."

"Oh. Well, good night honey! Sweet dreams!" she blows a kiss and he slams the door with force.

Suzie and Abdul trade raised eyebrows, right as Holly turns back to face them.

"So is there really nothing we can do? What about the Speedwagon Foundation? Surely they have more information about this sort of ability! Maybe they can transplant Stands...?"

"I'm afraid the Foundation has no further information," Abdul murmurs, "And as of right now, many people do not survive gaining a Stand, and only one Stand in particular can transfer Stands -- the one I was talking about before."

"What kind of choice is this?!" Holly cries, hunching over her father's prone figure. "Papa was so happy to meet his grandfather! And Jotaro too! And now..."

"Oh Holly, life isn't always beautiful," her mother sighs, stroking her hair. "Your son is right though, it's been a long day and it's already three in the morning. Why don't you get some sleep -- you too Abdul -- and I'll keep watch over these two?"

"But...!"

"No but's young lady," Suzie sharply interrupts.

"Mrs. Joestar, thank you for your offer, but -- "

"You too Abdul," the lady of the house says, standing up and looking him in the eye.

"Y-Yes ma'am," the six foot man stammers. He exits the room and Holly follows, dragging her feet.

"You will call us when either one of them wake up, right?" she reiterates.

"Of course I will sweetie-pie," Suzie smiles, "Do you think I could get either of them, much less both of them, to stay in bed? I'll definitely need help then!"

"Alright then..." Holly says, blowing another kiss, "Good night!"

"Good night dear," Suzie repeats. The door closes and she double-checks her husband's temperature and pulse. Both are normal. Relieved, she clasps her hands around his much larger one, pressing it to her face.

"I'm sorry, Jojo," she whispers, kissing the back of his hand, "I'm sorry it turned out this way."

Either Jonathan has been missing out on more sleep than he let on, or Jotaro's Ripple is more potent than initially attested. Either way, both he and Joseph end up sleeping the most by a long shot. Throughout the rest of the night and well into the afternoon, the other three sporadically wake up to check up on them. It comes as no surprise then, that when Jonathan finally opens his eyes in the late afternoon of the first day of the year, he's greeted with four exhausted individuals.

"Ah!" Holly exclaims, thrusting a flute of water into his hand, "Drink this, great-grandfather!"

Abdul helps him sit up and Jonathan downs the glass.

"What happened?" he asks, rubbing at his temples. "I was just about to... oh! Joseph!"

"He's right here, don't worry," Suzie reassures. Jonathan stumbles to his feet, ignoring Abdul and Holly's attempts to keep him in bed, and walks over to his unconscious grandson.

"I am so sorry, Suzie," Jonathan confesses, "He would not be in this condition if... well, it's my fault he's like this."

"No it's not," Jotaro growls.

"Jotaro is right," Holly adds, "Abdul told us the whole situation. It's not as if you meant to take Papa's Stand! None of this is your fault and you shouldn't act so rashly."

"We'll fix this," Suzie reiterates, "Because it's our problem too."

Jonathan stares at the four of them.

"How... how did I faint in the first place?" he eventually asks.

Three gazes dart towards Jotaro. He rolls his eyes and pulls down his cap.

"I didn't know how else to stop you."

"Stop me?" Jonathan repeats, feeling even more confused, "Why would you want to stop me?"

"Because there's a better way," Holly insists, "There must be."

Jonathan blinks slowly.

"Is a transfer of the Ripple that disagreeable?" he questions.

And now it is everyone else's turn to be confused. Suzie asks for clarification and Jonathan gives it and Abdul laughs at the misunderstanding. Holly tugs on her son's ear, reminding him to think before acting, and Jotaro mutters an apology under his breath. Jonathan ends up laughing as well, saying that while he was looking forward to seeing his wife and father and friend and mentor and dog again, suicide was not the first line of defense. And so they give him a wide berth and he takes a couple deep breaths, once again pooling the Ripple in his hand. Although only Jotaro can see the surge of Ripple sink into Joseph's body, all of them can see the twitch of his fingers and the rapid flutter of his eyes.

There's a chorus of names then -- 'Joseph', 'Jojo', 'Papa', and 'Mr. Joestar'. Joseph flexes right hand and then left, sitting up and grabbing Jonathan's collar.

"You...!"

"It was my fault, Mr. Joestar," Abdul is quick to say.

"I told you not to tell them!"

"Of course we would ask!" Suzie shoots back, expression set, "What were you thinking, Joseph Joestar, passing out like that?"

"It wasn't on purpose! Geez, you -- " he stops, looking at the audience, "I'll make it up to you, I promise. But as for you -- " he looks at his grandfather again, "What did you do?!"

"I transferred some of my energy."

"Some?!"

"It's the least I could do," Jonathan replies, looking positively doleful, "I'm really sorry about this. The whole business with the Stand -- if only I had -- "

"I'm not angry about that!" Joseph roars, shoving him away, "If anything, you should be sorry for ditching me and Abdul in Iraq! And this is after we saved your ass, you ungrateful old man!"

"I'm sorry about that too," his grandfather dutifully says. Mother and daughter exchange amused glances.

"A sorry isn't good enough," Joseph sniffs, "I will only overlook this if you swear in grandma's name that you'll bring me along for the sixth mask."

Jonathan falters momentarily, but then smiles. "I would have asked you to come regardless. I'll need the Speedwagon Foundation's help to get to Peru, especially as I won't be able to use Hermit Purple from now on."

"What!" Joseph exclaims, taken aback by how easily the other gave in, "Really?"

"Yes," Jonathan nods.

"Count me in too," Jotaro grunts.

"And me as well," Abdul, of course.

Joseph and Jonathan exchange similar fond-yet-exasperated glances.

"Alright," one or the other says.

"Oh how fun~" Suzie grins, clapping her hands, "It'll be like a family adventure!"

"Mo-om!"

"What? You know how boys are. Isn't it a good thing Jojo and Jonathan will be there with him?"

"Well..." Holly looks at her son, sighing, "Well, alright. When you put it like that, I guess I have no choice."

"Great," Joseph concludes, clapping his hands together and climbing out of bed. "I'll call up the Foundation and book the tickets..." he glances out the window, "Well, would you look at that! It's already dinnertime. What say we eat steak tonight, boys and girls?"

As they're filing out of the bedroom and changing into formal attire, Jotaro pulls his great-great-grandfather aside for a moment.

"How much do you have left?" he asks.

Jonathan considers playing dumb. But the edge in his great-great-grandson's gaze makes him swallow, thinking twice.

"I don't know," he admits. "Joseph was weaker than I thought."

"You told me that the Ripple was what kept you youthful," Jotaro presses. "So you're expending even more energy."

"Well..." he scratches at his neck, laughing sheepishly, "Yes."

"How long do you have left?"

"Uh, well..." Jonathan has never been a good liar; he averts his eyes, grin falters, "Maybe... two months? It should be more than enough to find and destroy the sixth mask." His expression grows serious then, "Jotaro, I know you're a good kid. But Erina has been waiting for me for a long, long time, and I'll tell you right now: there's nothing worse than making your wife wait." He softens considerably, ruffling his descendent's hair, "I'm happy to have met you though. Grateful, even, to be able to impart the Ripple on my great-great -- "

"Hey, hurry it up you two!"

Joseph arranges everything with the Speedwagon Foundation, narrowing the location of the sixth mask to the Norte Chico Pyramid in Peru. The plane tickets for Brazil have been booked for next week.

Dio, meanwhile, has seen what he meant to see and taken what was meant to be taken in Japan. His months spent inside of Vanilla's Stand were put to good use: in particular, researching the application of Stands for the sake of manipulating time and space. While his own Stand was a godsend, it was still necessary to find more Stands and Stand users. Vanilla was a step in the right direction; the D'arby brothers as well. He takes to keeping a diary, well, more like a research log. The problem of course, well, the first problem is that it is all theory. The second one is that he is certain his current state -- his fatal reaction to sunlight, that is -- will be a hindrance.

And so he had set about getting rid of that. A Stone Mask and the Red Stone of Asia had been how the mask's creator had done it. However, as Dio has calculated, there needs to be a particular angle of sunlight. In the current season, there are only four coordinates in the world which have a chance at activation. Two of them are ruled out by being over water -- the ocean current would mess up the angle, no doubt -- and the third one is inaccessible, right in the middle of a still-active volcano.

The fourth location is in the southern United States, at the center of a burnt-out complex. The closest building is a church. Dio scouts it out one evening beforehand, slipping in through the open door and hiding underneath the pulpits. The church is maybe one hundred meters, possibly less, from the correct coordinates.

Although he would have liked more time to plan, would have liked to gather more allies, the mind-controlled spy he planted in the Speedwagon Foundation has relayed that the Joestars will be on the move within days. As usual, Jonathan is forcing his hand without realizing it. Dio rises to the challenge. This is the last hurdle to true immortality, he reminds himself. He has never faltered and he will not start now.

In a stroke of pragmatism, he ends up using his heat-sucking ability to freeze the Red Stone to the forehead of the mask. Then he freezes time, places the mask on top of the global positioning system, runs back to church, and unfreezes time. Using a series of mirrors, he observes the bonded mask and stone reacting to the sunlight. There is a streak of red light, sharper and stronger than the original Stone Mask transformation light, and then nothing.

Dio freezes time, retrieves the mask, returns to the church, and unfreezes time. His hands are shaking when he places the mask on his face, the second time he's gone through the motions. This time, there is no blood to be spilt; the red light appears again, but in reverse -- as if being sucked into the Stone Mask -- no, as if it was being sucked into the Red Stone. The mask shatters; the Red Stone clatters to the floor, skidding underneath the church altar, and his body is left with a tingling sensation.

As if he is unable to believe it, he crawls underneath the altar, fingers clasping around the stone.

He needs to test it out, he knows. His calculations were correct and the German publication was accurate otherwise. He needs to go into the sun -- stick an arm or leg out, at the least -- and he should do it now.

But he hesitates, and in hesitating, footsteps near the altar. He should stick his legs back, he knows, but for some reason -- no, because of 'Fate', no doubt -- he does not.

The priest-in-training stumbles. His books go flying and he knocks over a couple candles.

Dio slips back, freezing time to move behind the stranger. He can admit to himself that he has never thought highly of the especially religious. In fact, he considered them to be no better than the uneducated. To be willfully ignorant in a changing world -- why, even in his youth, he had thought the idea of post-mortem gratification ridiculous!

But when he reads the cover of the churchgoer's book, it strikes him as interesting. Although the tome itself was no favorite of his, the idea of self-awareness, self-apology even, in this youth piques his interest.

The youth -- no, upon further inspection, he was little more than a boy -- asks him why he is there, and Dio tells the 'truth' he has known for so long. He does not know why, but something about this child intrigues him. That he believes Dio without question, going so far as to turn his back... his nonchalant exit is ruined by the limp in his gait.

"I apologize," Dio says, again with all honesty, "It seems I have twisted your ankle."

There is an irony then, he thinks in later reflections of their first meeting, that the power to bring the world -- no, Time and Space itself -- to its knees would first be used to heal. And he doesn't even want it, not consciously at least. But the Ripple -- his Ripple -- acts regardless, effortlessly healing the boy's foot. The youth is babbling something about birth defects and not-his-fault; Dio is not paying attention at this point.

It worked.

The mask and the stone -- his spur-of-the-moment creation -- it had worked.

He wants someone to share in his exultation, though there is no one but this youth. But he is exultant, happy beyond measure, and tells the other a snippet of his philosophy. He bequeaths the Stand-creating arrow Enya had given to him in lieu of traditional valuables, and strides out of the church and into the sunlight without another word.

Enrico Pucci, in his own reminiscing, will say that the question of "who are you?" genuinely never occurred to him. He does not even consider giving chase when the other stepped out into the sunlight -- so uncontestably radiant was he.

And so it was that he made the acquaintance of the man who would (of this he was certain) surpass God.

Chapter Text

One morning, while three out of four of them are still eating breakfast, Joseph bursts into the kitchen.

"You guys, come quick!" he hollers, waving the other three over. They trade bemused expressions before following him into the lounge, just in time to catch the latter part of a news report.

"What is it?" Jotaro grumbles. He bites into his remaining portion of breakfast, a banana, squinting at the crackly image on screen.

"Can't you read?" his grandfather asks, "It says that the flight we were supposed to be on -- the flight that you made us miss -- went missing overnight and apparently crashed in the mountains."

"That's awful!" Jonathan gasps.

"Mm-hm," Joseph nods, "If we had been on that plane, it would have been the third plane crash I was a part of."

"Did it say what caused the crash?" Abdul asks.

"They're still investigating, but they think it was low altitude. Something about the fuselage skimming the peaks."

"Any survivors?"

"Surprisingly, yes! They're still doing numbers but it looks like more than half the people survived..." he grimaces, "Still feels like a tiger walked on my grave though..."

"I think we owe Jotaro an apology then," Jonathan points out good-naturedly.

"Yes, yes. Thanks very much for losing your bandanna -- "

"It's a hat," his grandson grinds, looking as affronted as Jotaro could look.

"Doesn't look like any hat I've ever seen," the second-eldest sniffs.

"Still, if Jotaro did not insist on finding his hat, we would have been on time," Abdul adds. All four of them look back to the still-reporting television, where a close-up of the broken aircraft was seen.

"Oh damn," Joseph curses.

"What now?"

"Apparently all future flights from Sao Paolo to Lima are going to be postponed," he winces, rubbing his temples, "And here I thought ten hours was pushing it! We're looking at two weeks here!" He catches the blanching expression on everyone else's faces and waves his hands, "We won't be waiting that long of course. Let me make a call to the Foundation, see if they have a car or something for us. You guys keep watching -- let me know if something else comes up."

Jotaro looks at Jonathan. Jonathan looks at Abdul. Abdul blinks. Slowly.

"Mr. Joestar," he quickly addresses, "I'm afraid none of us speak Spanish."

"Spanish? But it's Portuguese!"

"Ah. My apologies. Well, we do not speak that either."

"When did you pick it up?" Jotaro asks, tugging on the brim of his cap.

"Hey, I was in Europe for more than a year!" Joseph says, explaining nothing. "Jonathan, you can't understand her, really?"

"Nope," his grandfather replies, shaking his head, "None of the secondary literature was in Portuguese, so I never needed to know it."

"Aaargh... okay, change of plans!" Joseph rips a sheet of hotel note paper out, scribbling the phone number for their contact at the Speedwagon Foundation, "Jonathan, you call the Foundation up. Tell them what happened to the flight and that we need some other way of getting there. Abdul, you and Jotaro go to the concierge and ask for a map of the continent. Then try to pick the quickest route from here to the northern plateau above Lima."

They follow through with the instructions: Jonathan takes the sheet of paper and goes to the hallway telephone; Abdul and Jotaro ask Joseph for a quick translation of "map of South America please". Their departure leaves Joseph by himself in the suite's lounge. He flicks the television off and reclines his chair fully, sighing blissfully.

"Ah," he murmurs, "Finally, some peace and quiet."

It lasts for all of five minutes. And then --

"Joseph!" Jonathan calls from the hallway.

"Aaagh! What, what?!" he jumps up, quickly turning the TV back on.

"Holly wants to speak to you!"

"Oh, alright," he walks over, taking the phone. "Hi sweetie! How are you? How is your mother? What? What! Oh no! What do you mean you went back to Japan?!" Jonathan gently pries his grandson's hand out of their chokehold over the phone, before he speedily retreats into the kitchen courtesy of Joseph's glare, "Yes I know Jotaro will be missing school, but didn't you say it would be okay? No, you should be able to excuse his absence over the phone -- god, what a backward country!"

A pause, and then his expression darkens considerably.

"Ah, so your husband has returned from tour. What do you mean -- no, I know this isn't why you called me -- " he pauses again, "Okay, I'm sorry sweetie. I'll listen properly now. Why did you call me?"

Holly's reply causes him to drop the phone. He scrambles to pick it up back, placing it against his chin. "Oh my god! Are you alright? Did you see who -- oh. It was over the holiday. I see. Well... are you sure, sweetie? Yes, I know you know what it looks like. Okay, well thank you for telling me. No, no, it's not your fault! Who knows, maybe it was just a no-good thief with no holiday spirit! That being said... I'm going to call the Speedwagon Foundation. I don't like the idea of you being by yourself all the way over there. Yes, I know you're an adult... your husband? Hah, who knows how long he'll be staying this time? No, no, I'll have the Foundation send someone to you, no ifs or buts!"

His daughter says something that makes him laugh, "Yes, I told him too! Japanese fashion is very strange!" he shakes his head, "Okay sweetie, I need to call the Foundation, you be a good girl and keep safe, okay?" He blows kisses into the phone, "Yes, I love you too."

Despite his proclivity to laziness, Joseph will take every precaution when his only daughter is concerned. She may have grown up wonderfully, he grudgingly admits (marriage to that Japanese bastard jazz musician notwithstanding), but she was still his little girl through and through. So he calls up the Speedwagon Foundation himself and of course they understand the importance of the theft of the Red Stone of Asia. They'll send someone over on the next flight which, since it was New York to Japan and not Sao Paolo to Lima, meant by the end of the day, early-evening at latest. Concerns for his daughter temporarily assuaged, he makes the decision to keep the Stone's disappearance from Jonathan. Perhaps it was an unconnected incident. It did look very valuable, he rationalizes, and there was no sense in putting the other on even higher alert.

He will admit to his wife and only his wife, that he had dreamed of his grandmother. She had looked just as he had remembered her, and hit him immediately with her laced umbrella. She didn't say anything though, just pursed her lips and pushed him back. But the dream had been a good reminder: Jonathan was not here to stay. It would be one thing if he wanted to go on living, but it was another story separating husband and wife for even longer. The reason he had not committed suicide was because he thought the world still needed him. Joseph needs to prove, then, that they can uphold the plethora of enemies and unfortunate circumstances on their own.

"Jonathan," he calls.

"Ah! Have you finished talking with Holly? Why did she call? She sounded distraught..."

"Oh, you know how school administrators are!" Joseph quickly lies, "Apparently they didn't believe that Jotaro had a legitimate reason for missing an indefinite amount of school. I'll have the archaeological division of the Foundation write up an excuse note, hopefully they'll accept that."

"If Jotaro needs to leave early," Jonathan starts, right as Abdul and Jotaro re-enter the suite.

"Why would I need to leave early?" Jotaro demands.

"Apparently your school doesn't like your excuses."

"Hn."

"It's more serious than that," Jonathan insists, "You might be expelled!"

"Well actually -- "

"Like I care?" his great-great-grandson counters, "I told you: I'm coming along too."

"Don't worry, don't worry!" Joseph intervenes, "Your grandpa is going to take of it, don't you worry your little bandanna'd head!"

"It's a hat."

"Yeah, you tell yourself that," his grandfather snorts. Then he turns to Abdul, "Ah! You found the maps! And road maps at that! Well, the Foundation said they'll get a car and driver to us by tomorrow morning at latest, we'll try to plot out an optimal route right now."

Unfortunately, while the maps are quite detailed, they are in Portuguese, which means it's the other three huddled about Joseph, with Adbul and Jonathan taking notes.

"Hey, hey!" Joseph exclaims, right as he's charting the course of the Rio Grande with an index finger, "Why am I the one doing all the work?! You're a student, you're an avid book collector, and you're a freaking archaeologist!"

"None of us can read these maps," Abdul repeats.

"Besides," Jonathan adds, "You're doing very well. I think we'll have to ask for river crossings though... none of these maps show any bridges."

"Maybe there aren't any," Jotaro half-jokes.

"Don't curse us!" Joseph demands, "I still haven't forgotten that you're the reason we -- "

" -- didn't crash land in the mountains in Peru?"

"Hey, if we survived it would be a lot faster than this."

"Let's get back on track," Jonathan suggests, looking down at the maps.

After half an hour of back and forth, Joseph suddenly clutches his stomach, groaning.

"Mr. Joestar!"

"Urgh... it's my indigestion... I knew I should have had that appendectomy when I had the chance..." he makes a great show of nearly keeling over, "Grandpa, could you go to the concierge and ask for some aspirin?"

"I could -- " Abdul offers, but Joseph promptly elbows him in the side.

"Of course," Jonathan readily says, dashing out.

"What was that -- "

"Okay, we have maybe five minutes," Joseph says, getting to his feet, all symptoms of pain gone, "Holly just called me. Apparently the Red Stone of Asia has been stolen."

"What!" Abdul gasps.

"What's that?" Jotaro, of course.

"Yeah, at the moment I'm praying it's just an unfortunate coincidence but -- "

"Ah, sorry!" Jonathan interrupts, and Joseph quickly keels over again, groaning miserably, "I just realized I don't know to ask for aspirin in Portuguese!"

"It's... it's the same word..." Joseph hacks, fist clenched above his appendix.

"Oh, okay!" his grandfather dashes off again.

"The Red Stone of Asia is a jewel which amplifies the Ripple," Abdul explains. "Mr. Joestar gave it to your mother for safekeeping."

"So that's all it does?" Jotaro asks, raising an eyebrow, "Amplify the Ripple?"

"Immensely," his grandfather adds, wincing in remembrance of his own final battle, "Only Suzie and Abdul and Holly know where it was -- I didn't even tell the Speedwagon Foundation. I don't think anyone is better at the Ripple than me, much less your grandfather, but even a weak Ripple user..."

"You suspect something else," Abdul presses.

"Yes," Joseph admits, "I think Dio -- or one of his lackeys, if he really is dead -- is at work."

"Dio?"

"He's the man who killed... well, who tried to kill your great-great-grandfather. He's pure evil, but Jonathan refuses to admit it."

"It's more complicated than that," Abdul adds, thinking to Suzie's narration of events.

"More complicated my ass..." Joseph mutters.

"But why would Dio steal the stone?" Abdul asks, crossing his arms. "I thought you said the stone could only be attached to a specific mask, one which broke upon usage."

"I don't know. Let's hope it's just a sneak thief. If it is, we'll find it on the black market sooner or later."

Jonathan returns with a jar of aspirin soon enough and Joseph makes a big show of popping three in his mouth. Then he goes to lie down and, after half an hour, declares the already-spit-out medicine to have worked. The driver, a native from Sao Paolo, meets up with them in the evening. He laughs at the majority of their planning, routing out a significantly shorter route within minutes. Joseph is the only one able to communicate with him, and apparently his accent is significantly different from the mainland Portugal Portuguese Joseph had spent a couple months learning, so it's a trial and error throughout.

The five of them set out the next day, clearing the Brazilian border in record time. The journey is surprisingly smooth -- save for a mudslide and a bridge closed for construction, they meet no impediments, never run out of gas, and do not end up hopelessly lost. For Jonathan, it's a noticeable departure from the stop-start-stop journey from Iraq to India which Dio somehow managed to drag out to four months, so say nothing of his single-person marathon across the Southeast Asian Sea. Though Jotaro makes an effort at nonchalance, he is predictably enthused about the fauna and flora. Even though they are quite south from the Amazon Rainforest, the ecosystem is South America is like nothing else in the world.

On average, they drive for fifteen hours each day, two heats of seven and a half hours, ending with nine hours in the next settlement.

Eight days later and they arrive at the Norte Chico Pyramid. Joseph urges the driver to stay in Lima, that they will come find him when all is said and done. The driver says that, as they've made good time, the Speedwagon Foundation recommends they enter the pyramid at dawn not dusk. This makes sense, so they clamber back into the humvee, returning the next day.

At daybreak, the resting place of the sixth mask is a different beast entirely.

"This is it, right?" Jotaro asks, pointing at the structure.

"Well the sign does say Norte Chico..." Joseph replies, pointing at said sign.

Jotaro turns to Jonathan: "Didn't you say you spent months in one these things?"

"Ancient structures come in all shapes and sizes," Jonathan shrugs, thinking back to the underground lake underneath the Sarasvati, "So this one isn't that large. It works in our favor."

"You haven't used Hermit Purple at all," Abdul notes.

"I don't plan to," Jonathan admits.

"Geez, don't hold yourself back on account of me, gramps..." Joseph grumbles, rolling his eyes. He takes the lead though, climbing up to the pyramid entrance, "Okay, are we ready?"

"Be careful," Jonathan warns.

"Yeah, yeah!"

Joseph turns on his flashlight, taking the first step. "Huh," he says, "It's just a staircase."

"We can't see where it leads," Abdul points out.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." The four of them continue up the staircase. Unlike the one in Etemenanki, this staircase is a callback to the Egyptian pyramids: a single flight which stretched, presumably, to the apex of the pyramid.

"So what happens when we find the mask?" Jotaro asks.

"I didn't think you were one for small talk," his grandfather snickers.

"...Hn."

"Well, even though we've said this a dozen times, we'll either destroy it if it isn't a bound Stand, or get through the Stand and then destroy it."

"It is likely to be a bound Stand though."

"Yeah, you're what -- four out of five?"

"If you're including my mother's Stone mask, that would be three out of five."

"Hmmm..." Abdul considers, shining his flashlight on the pyramid sides. There are caricatures from the ancient civilization scrawled there. All of the panels seem to be pointing down. "There is some sense to be made, three bound and three unbound masks."

"Hah! That'd be easy, wouldn't it?" Joseph laughs.

"But it's impossible to know if a Stand is at work, correct?" Jotaro asks.

"Well, you can suspect," Jonathan agrees, "But it's never certain, yes."

"What are you getting at?" Joseph asks, and then he pauses. "Ah, wait, I can see the end."

"This is tiny..." his grandson mutters.

"Hey, we had a fun week, didn't we? And now -- " Joseph does not manage to finish his reassurance as the stair below him falls to the darkness below. "Woah!" he exclaims, leaping back. Like a domino effect, the other stairs begin to collapse as well.

"What's happening?!" Jotao demands.

"Oh shit -- " Joseph blanches, "He can't -- "

"Joseph!" Jonathan screams, grabbing his great-great-grandson by the waist as the stairs are crumbling beneath them, "Catch!"

"Wha --- aagh!"

"You bastard -- !" Jotaro warbles. Surprise, surprise, the teenager does not take to being treated like a sack of potatoes. The second Joseph sets him on a nearby ledge, he's activating Hermit Purple and using its vines to lower himself.

"Jonathan!" he shouts. "Jonathan!"

"Mr. Joestar, please be careful!"

"Abdul, you take care of the kid -- "

"Hey!"

"Shut up Jojo," Joseph snaps, "Shit, the light doesn't even reach the bottom of this. I have to go down, Abdul, take the top."

"Understood," Abdul nods, using his Stand to grab onto Jotaro.

"Hey! What are you -- let me go!" Jotaro thrashes, kicking and glaring. "You think I want to be stuck up here?!"

"I'm sorry," the Egyptian apologizes, sending a couple flames down to light Joseph's way, "But as it is, if you can't see the effects of the Stand..."

"You're saying I'm a hindrance, huh?"

"At the moment, yes."

Jotaro stops struggling then, chest heaving and fists clenched. He glares at the Egyptian, fury battling against common sense.

"When I get my Stand I'm going to kick your ass," he finally says.

Abdul laughs.

"I'll be waiting then."

Meanwhile, Jonathan has long since reached the base of the pyramid. Although he can hear Joseph calling for him, his own replies seem to go unheard. So, he concludes, he is already within the range of this Stone Mask's Stand. He calls for a burst of Ripple to light the way, biting back a cringe because his energy reserves were dwindling drastically. He had found a way to circumvent a good deal of the obstacles in the humvee's path, but doing so had cost him weeks.

"It's alright," he whispers to himself, proceeding forward, "Just one more mask and then..."

Later, because Dio does not ask him 'why', Jonathan never explains. However, he himself knows: where he has changed Dio, Dio has changed him as well. Before his revival, he would trust unconditionally, taking whatever was said at face value. But now -- now he has learned to doubt. And so it was that he doubted Joseph's sudden onset of indigestion and discovered via eavesdropping on Abdul and Joseph's ensuing conversations that the Red Stone of Asia had been stolen from Holly's house. Although he had promised himself not to use Hermit Purple until the absolute end, he had reneged for a second, using it to scry for Dio in the bathroom mirror.

He had seen a glimpse of the other, back in his Egyptian manor, and a glimpse was all he needed.

So while he wanders about, refusing to activate his Stand, he is prepared for an encounter. Expects it, even.

And Dio, for all his faults, does not disappoint.

"Jojo," he greets, sitting with the sixth mask cradled in his hands.

Jonathan steels himself, turning to face the other.

"Dio."

"Hmm? Not surprised at all? That's no fun."

"I will stop you," Jonathan promises, drawing back his fist.

"Don't make me laugh," Dio drawls, pocketing the mask and getting up. "You gave your pitiful descendent three-quarters of your energy and you still think you can stop me?" Jonathan tenses, and Dio takes the opportunity to step forward, pulling him close. He presses his face against Jonathan's neck, inhaling, "My poor Jojo," he chides, "Look at you, you can barely stand."

Jonathan refrains from replying, conserving his energy.

This is where the tragedy begins: just as he has correctly read Dio, Dio has correctly read him.

Dio does not know what exactly Jonathan is planning, but he has made it so the other has limited options. As it is, Jonathan returns his touch, turning around to press their foreheads together before encasing both of them in a coccoon of Hermit Purple vines, running the Ripple through both their bodies in an endless feedback.

Hundreds of meters up above, Joseph's manifestation of Hermit Purple abruptly stops. He has enough time to swing back onto a ledge before his body is wracked with a draining sensation.

"Shit," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. He knows that Jonathan would not use his Stand without reason and that there is an immense amount of energy being drawn.

"Hah!" Dio crows, practically trembling with amusement, "I knew you were a simpleton, but did you really think that trick would work?" He cuts through the vines and, in a timefreeze, grabs yet another body double before shouldering an immobile Jonathan. "Your efforts were useless -- absolutely useless!"

For Jonathan, it is like a rendition of his honeymoon voyage: his body will not move. He can think, he can reason, and he is aware that Dio is moving him -- up and out of the pyramid and then higher and higher still -- but he cannot move. Dio is laughing for the entirety of their journey; the cross of continents and oceans might as well be inches for his new body, and they land in the ruins of a burnt-out building.

He feels himself being set down and sees Dio lean down to kiss him.

"Rejoice, Jojo," Dio says, and his blond hair is spun gold in the sunlight, "And bask in my triumph."

And then he places the sixth mask with the frozen-on Red Stone, tilting Jonathan's head to catch the sunlight.

When Jonathan wakes, the mask is in pieces before him and Dio is pocketing the Red Stone.

He stares at the other, unwilling to believe.

"No," he says. "No, you would not -- "

"You should be thanking me Jojo," Dio says. With force, he pulls Jonathan up. Jonathan wrenches his hand away, falling back onto his knees with an animalistic howl.

"No! Dio, you can't -- I have to -- It's not -- "

"You will get used to it, in time," the other says. There's a smugness to his tone that sends Jonathan to his feet, fists clenched about Dio's bright-yellow lapels.

"Why would you do this?!" Jonathan demands.

"Why would I not?" Dio counters, fingers clenching about his hair, kissing him again.

"No. No, no, no, no -- " Jonathan pulls back, faltering, before falling forward. He's crying, repeating the name of his dead wife again and again, and Dio smiles. He wraps both arms against Jonathan's waist, marveling at how well they fit together, before kissing his wet cheek.

"Don't fool yourself Jojo," he says, lifting them into the air yet again, "You were always mine."

They fly for a longer distance this time. Jonathan has stopped crying, though he resolutely refuses to speak. Dio does not mind, concentrating instead on monitoring his condition. Although he will not admit it, the Stone Mask and Red Stone combination have done wonders for his Ripple capabilities as well. Even though his previous supply was all but depleted, even though he was no doubt reserving a good half for his grandson, Dio can see the color returning to his cheeks, the steadying of his heartbeat.

He brings them down to Japan, scattering his wings for the umpteenth time. They are perched outside an apartment complex, right outside the window of residence 1507. A mother, father, and son are present inside. The parents are dressed for a night out.

"Jojo," Dio calls, leaning over and propping the other man's chin up, "Observe."

The mother has forgotten something, she kisses the father good-bye and dashes out.

Predictably, the child begins to cry. The father goes over to it. However, instead of picking it up, he smashes his fist against the cradle.

Jonathan tenses. The abuse continues. The frothing livid father gets one hit in -- a strike across the boy's cheek -- before Jonathan is leaping from the tree, barreling through the window, and knocking the father out with a touch of the Ripple. He picks up the sobbing toddler, humming softly and holding it close to his chest, before Dio enters as well. Dio's lips are parted in a smile. His smile is full of teeth.

"Always such a hero, Jojo," he murmurs, reaching over to stroke the child's cheek.

"Dio! What is the meaning of this?!"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Carelessly, Dio pulls down the child's collar, revealing the Joestar birthmark on his left shoulder.

Jonathan stares, shocked into a stupor for the second time. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. The child in his arms reaches for him, resting its fingers on his cheek.

"This is Haruno," Dio says, "Though you are welcome to rename him."

"Haruno!" the boy echoes, clapping his hands.

Jonathan closes his eyes and holds the child tight, as if a loving embrace would change reality.

'Checkmate', Dio thinks.

Chapter Text

Dio spirits the three of them away to another side of the world, setting them down in what Jonathan later discovers to be the Italian countryside. With his devil's luck in stock trading, he has managed to acquire a spacious villa surrounded by rolling hills speckled with orchards. Though the sea is nowhere in sight, the scent of the sea is unmistakable in the breeze, a mild current of wind coming from the west, just enough to send the balcony curtains a-flutter.

Here, they return to their traveling ways: sharing the same bed and falling asleep under the same sheets. There are three key differences however. First, their interactions are not exclusive to the handful of hours between dusk and dawn. Second, there is no need to pack up and move every couple days. And third, there is an intruder -- an additional inhabitant entirely of Dio's creation -- and Jonathan will not leave the child be.

Out of the half-dozen bastard children Dio had created when Jonathan's body had been his own, Haruno had been the obvious choice. He was the eldest, he had a situationally-pitiful family situation, and most importantly, the child could stay quiet for hours. Dio has been planning his checkmate of Jonathan for months -- the child was supposed to be bait and nothing more. The plan had been to make Jonathan see the perks of genuine immortality and then Jonathan could help him bring 'Heaven' to Earth and they would truly have eternity.

And yet, here he is, Dio -- the closest being to 'God' -- helping a toddler with the Latin alphabet.

"This is another stupid endeavor," he complains, flicking a cardboard letter cut-out across the floor.

"Aaaa," Haruno warbles, crawling after it.

"Almost!" Jonathan grins, "But that's 'K', not 'A'."

"Ah?" the child repeats, holding up the letter.

"Kh," Dio sneers, "He's almost two years old and still unable to talk?" It irks him, the idea of presenting Jonathan with an inferior child.

"Everyone goes at their own pace," Jonathan shrugs, tugging the letter out of Haruno's hands. He picks up the 'A' cut-out and holds it up. "Which letter is this?"

"Khhh-hehehehe," Haruno giggles, clapping his hands and falling back.

With all fairness to the child, he is not illiterate by any means. He regularly babbles in his mother tongue and sometimes scrawls out the language, albeit in a backwards script. Jonathan babies him unnecessarily, Dio thinks. And in between feeding the child at every meal, reading to him at every opportunity, and even taking baths together, it is little wonder the boy still can't stand on his own much less run -- Jonathan insists on carrying him everywhere.

After three days of this, Dio brings the point up. Jonathan's expression darkens then, and his lips press together. He turns over and sits up, abdominals tensing at Dio's increased grip.

"How long have you known?" he asks.

"Known what?"

"About Haruno."

"Hmm..." Dio hums, shifting his grip to stroke his thumb against the inside of Jonathan's thigh, "I was aware of him for a year, but I only saw him after you left Japan."

"But you knew," Jonathan presses, pointedly ignoring Dio's ministrations, "That his parents were treating him like that."

"I don't blame that man," Dio shrugs, "Children are a nuisance. What man could love another man's spawn?"

'My father did', Jonathan refrains from saying.

"Why did you lead me to him then?" he asks instead.

"Like attracts like," Dio replies, pressing down in order to push himself up. "You seem so attached to your descendents, however distant they may be. But wouldn't you say a son is a closer than a great-great-grandson?"

"Family doesn't work like that," Jonathan retorts, though he looks green around the gills.

Dio laughs, pinning Jonathan against the headboard and kissing him breathless again. "Make no mistake Jojo," he warns, fingers curling about Jonathan's cock, "The child is your flesh and blood -- not mine. It was not I, Dio, who took him from his parents and I, Dio, have no intention of being anyone's parent."

So he says and so Jonathan believes him, and yet, there is something unquestionably like pride -- but pride by proxy, if it is possible -- when Dio discovers that Haruno has not only learned the alphabet overnight, but he is already capable of manifesting the beginnings of a Stand. It is nowhere near full power of course, but it is unmistakably there. When Jonathan is making flowers bloom with the Ripple, Haruno reaches for the highest branch. In the blink of an eye, an entire bouquet appears, growing and growing until the branch bends from the weight of the petals.

Jonathan laughs and plucks at the arrangement, righting the branch in the process before sticking flowers here and there in Haruno's cropped black hair. Almost all of them fall off of course, but the boy is still delighted.

"Flower," Jonathan says, pointing to the single blossom tucked behind the boy's ear.

"Fah-er!" Haruno dutifully repeats.

By the end of the week, Haruno has approximated the pronunciation of some hundred English words and is able to toddle about on his legs for the length of the hallway at least. This is seen when, one night, while Jonathan is brushing his teeth, Haruno dashes into the master bedroom, falling on his hands and knees. Dio puts down his book, staring hard at the child, and though there are tears in the corner of Haruno's eyes, the boy does not let them fall. Jonathan is at his side in seconds, cooing and coddling and welcoming him to their bed, and Dio wonders if the younger D'arby brother might be able to stuff the child's soul into a puppet and whether Jonathan would be able to differentiate.

For all his childishness, Haruno is impressively aware of his surroundings, exhibits A through C being his interactions with Dio. What had initially been wariness has evolved to full-out aversion, to the point where the boy will not speak when Dio is in earshot, choosing instead to whisper directly into Jonathan's ear. And Jonathan, though he never says it (and of course does not express his gratitude to Dio), is clearly delighted with his new role as 'father', genuinely taking pleasure in playing games like giving nonsensical names to household items.

When Dio is making a long-distance call to Egypt -- gloating belatedly on his own successes and pre-emptively mentioning Jonathan's involvement in his schemes -- Jonathan leads Haruno (or perhaps it is the other way around) into the nearby fruit orchards. Some farmer's wives are there, and they excitedly set aside their buckets and baskets, chattering enthusiastically with the obvious foreigners. One of them is fluent in French; she plays translator for the others.

It is dusk by the time Jonathan and Haruno return to the villa. Jonathan is carrying a basket filled with figs and quinces, and Haruno is repeatedly chanting something.

"What is he saying?" Dio finally asks.

"The women of the farm found Haruno too difficult to pronounce, so they transcribed the sounds into Italian."

"Gi-or-nooo!" Haruno cheerfully calls.

"That's a stupid name," Dio snorts.

"It means day," Jonathan helpfully adds. "The woman who knew French told me so."

Dio regrets his pick of the litter soon enough as Haruno-or-Giorno turns out to be even more of a brat. Though he readily responds whenever Jonathan calls (Dio suspects that Jonathan could call the child 'dog' and the boy would still come running), he refuses to respond to Dio unless he's referred to as 'Giorno'. Dio's right eye twitches at this realization and while he could easily school the other into obedience, Jonathan's ever-present presence is a large hindrance. Giorno-not-Haruno is well-aware of this: despite his age, he takes every opportunity to hide behind Jonathan.

In the end, Dio concedes. He is willing to use the stupid name if it meant the child would get the hell out of their bed.

"Giorno," he grunts, when both of them are waiting for Jonathan to finish storing the leftovers, "Go back to your room."

The toddler of less than two has the gall to stare at him.

And there it is again, that strange swell of pride. Although he refuses to acknowledge it, he has been comparing the boy to Jonathan and Erina's son. George the Second, or what Dio had read up on about him, had been a more pitiful version of his father with all of Jonathan's goodness and morality and none of his innate strength. He had died young, so young that Joseph couldn't remember anything about him, and Dio feels some satisfaction knowing one of his zombies was the cause.

Hair color and Stand affinity notwithstanding, Dio can already see more of himself than Jonathan in the child. To have his Stand at such a young age and to receive no negative consequences... the child has potential.

Later, yes. But not now.

He lackadaisically freezes time, transporting Giorno-not-Haruno back to his own room. There is some affection in him yet, Dio grudgingly admits, dredging up a bit of Ripple to put the child to sleep. He has his way with Jonathan afterwards, biting his shoulder while coming inside of him. They stay like that for a while, intimately intertwined, and Dio thinks of the strangeness that is their shared fate. Jonathan reaches up then, fingers stroking the other man's cheek, and Dio turns his head so that he can kiss them.

Here, like this, it is not unbearable.

At some point, Jonathan takes to calling Haruno 'Giorno' as well. It is probably around the time the child's English vocabulary expands even further and Dio begins to join in on his education.

It is no surprise he is less of a coddler than Jonathan, insisting that Giorno begin recognizing whole words, pronouncing them correctly, and string said words together in simple sentences. His Japanese mother tongue is a hindrance here; the letters 'v' and 'l' are absent entirely and so Giorno initially skips them altogether before conflating them with 'b' and 'r'. Dio will have none of that of course, and Giorno will have no lunch if he has anything to say about it.

The child glares up at him for the umpteenth time and there are tears in its eyes.

Dio doesn't even spare it a glance.

"Violent," he drawls, flipping the page of his book.

"Bye-oh-ren-tuh," Giorno mumbles.

"No. Try again."

It is another testament to the child's character that though he is obviously tired and hungry, he does not call for Jonathan. Indeed, when Jonathan inevitably comes running with orange juice and sweetmeat-filled pastries, Dio raises a challenging eyebrow, practically daring the child to take a bite. Giorno allows Jonathan to feed him the juice before pushing the plate of pastries away.

"Vuh-vuh-vi-len-tuh!" he triumphantly stammers.

Jonathan's brows furrow, though he seizes the opportunity to stuff a slice of pastry in Giorno's opened mouth.

"What are you teaching him to say?" he asks.

"Nothing in particular," Dio replies, closing his book and getting up. He pats the boy's head, popping a pastry in his mouth before leaving.

Jonathan is not a bad cook by any means, but Dio cannot subsist off of his food.

In the middle of properly feeding, he thinks of the future. They could get by in the villa for a while. His newly-granted powers meant that his movement was not restricted to the night and his range of mobility was even wider than before. Flitting from one end of the continent to the next is nothing for him and there's no chance the death of a handful of peasants will be traced back to an illustrious retired stock trader living in Italy. Everything is sweeter, now with Jonathan is firmly by his side. As for Jonathan's descendents... well, they have fallen for the body double and given him a second proper burial. After a decade or two, when Giorno is fully grown and his Stand has properly manifested, Dio can make him immortal as well.

Perhaps by then, Heaven will already have been brought down. It is not beyond imagining; he has already changed fate to suit his whims, the same could (and would) be done of heaven.

He and Jonathan, perpetually young and utterly incapable of dying. Flitting from equally-luxurious residence to residence. Forever is a long time, he knows, and Jonathan could be doting towards Giorno for as long as necessary. There are more women capable of bearing children -- perhaps Jonathan would be happiest in the role of 'parent'. Dio can easily arrange it, so long as the other man is amenable. They could have children immemorial, each one eternally young and brilliant, and Jonathan could coddle them and Dio could educate them and --

He wipes the blood from his jaw, frowning.

Despite fighting tooth and nail, he has taken to calling Giorno their son.

It is Jonathan's tendencies rubbing off on him, he insists, trying to shrug the slip of conscience off. In terms of priorities, his have not changed. This sudden want for a family is purely for Jonathan's sake; he, Dio, desires Heaven. And he will have it, as he will have everything.

Yes, he repeats, taking to the air again. It is like always; it is like it should be.

Eternity, however, is not an easy gift to receive.

In between Dio's careful restraint and iron-tight grasp of the facts, it is understandable that he did not account for the mask's effect on Jonathan. He had been a vampire before receiving the mask and stone and sunlight at the right angle, and so a vampire he continues to be. The cellular shifting power, the immunity to sunlight, and the channeling of the Ripple, these were the abilities granted by the combination. Jonathan has received the same. But at the end of the day, it is a modified Stone Mask -- a tool meant for making vampires -- and Jonathan, with his newfound powers and lack of restrictions, is still a vampire through and through. But neither his skin nor his eyes nor his temperament show any change, even after weeks; indeed, the most sign Dio has that the mask and stone had had any effect is when Jonathan speckles his arms with feathers, taking Giorno to the villa's roof for an afternoon nap.

Jonathan prepares food for himself and Giorno as well, simple recipes with a dependency on local ingredients, and though Dio has been above eating for years, the table is always set for three.

One night towards the end of March, Jonathan bites into his rare steak and finds the meat utterly inedible. It is not the first time; he had started out eating everything char-grilled, rapidly slipping into arguably-raw territory. For Giorno, medium to well-done is still the norm. Giorno notices him stopping midbite; the clever child does the same, cocking his head sideways. Jonathan takes a bite, holding back his gag reflex in order to swallow, and forces up a grin.

"Mm," he says, "Delicious!"

"Steak!" Giorno reiterates, vehemently stabbing at his own portion. His face is smeared with juice and sauce; Dio leans over to wipe the stains away.

Here in the countryside, there is no one that knows of their circumstances.

Perhaps he has known since Dio put the mask on him: his newly immortal body needs blood. It needs human blood. The idea of killing others to continue his own existence is as disgusting now as it had always been and he refuses to reject his humanity. But there is no one here to provide any help. Even if he were in New York, even if his descendents were close by, what could they do for him? He cannot ask them to end his life. He has embroiled them far enough in his problems. And Dio... well, Dio would not bat an eye at sucking the whole countryside dry if it meant he could have forever.

So Jonathan is trapped.

The days pass sluggishly as he allows Giorno more time outside, conserving his own energy by sleeping the days away. Dio has left for Egypt, leaving the two of them alone in the villa. Soon enough, Giorno finishes his amusements, tip-toeing into master bedroom and squirming underneath Jonathan's arm. In months, the boy has gone from crawling and babbling to walking and talking.

At some point, Giorno stops chattering, head curling against Jonathan's chest.

Jonathan drifts to sleep as well, and when he wakes again, it is already night.

Caught on the cusp on consciousness, he smells something sweet. For the first time in days, he feels like he could eat -- like there is something he wants to eat. There is a soft buzz in the back of his head; it is easy to ignore. With parted lips and watering mouth, he reaches his hand forward.

As he had seen Dio do and as Dio had done to him, his fingers glide underneath skin, easily accessing the veins.

The blood flows up, up, up, quenching a hunger no amount of raw meat could satisfy.

The second it flows into him, Giorno wakes up, takes one glance at Jonathan and splits the silence with a bawl.

It is the boy's cry and not the taste of blood that shakes Jonathan out of his stupor. He snatches his hand back as if Giorno had burned him, chest heaving and pupils dilated. As soon as his fingers leave Giorno's bloodstream, the boy shuts his mouth, looking up at Jonathan with tear-filled eyes.

He had tried to suck the child's blood. No, he had been sucking the child's blood.

"I'm so sorry Giorno," Jonathan gasps, holding open his arms. Giorno falls into him, crying quietly, and Jonathan uses a burst of Ripple to quickly examine the other. Outside of the initial shock, Giorno seems to be alright. "I'm so sorry," he says a second time, "I, I couldn't..."

He couldn't help himself, he realizes. Bloodlust be damned, his own inhibitions were not enough to keep his son safe.

His son.

Jonathan squeezes Giorno tight, a callback to their first meeting, and bites his bottom lip. More than being ignorant, he had been arrogant. He had thought that only Dio would need to drink blood -- that he was not bound to the same rules as the other. And yet Dio had resisted taking from Giorno and Jonathan had fallen, however briefly, to temptation.

He takes a deep breath, setting Giorno down and kissing his forehead. Despite the constant nagging for blood, he has a good deal of energy left. Perhaps it was from the sunlight though it was more likely, he grimly admits, that he was leeching lifeforce off of Joseph or worse yet, Giorno.

With shaking hands, he dresses both of them to the nines. A double layer of everything, even socks, and a knit hat on top of the child's hoodie.

"Hot," Giorno complains, trying to shrug off his jacket.

"No," Jonathan says, shaking his head. "You'll be cold otherwise." He scoops the child up and takes him to the balcony. There is a full moon tonight and it is framed by a thousand twinkling stars.

"Sirius," Giorno says, pointing to the brightest one.

"My," Jojo chuckles, patting his head, "Dio is a good teacher." He hugs Giorno close, forcing wings to manifest from his back, before leaping from the balcony and taking to the skies. Giorno reaches for the stars, chubby little fingers grabbing at the spots of light.

"Polaris," he adds, trying to reach the tip of the Big Dipper.

Jonathan flies for some time then, finding himself impressed time and again with how quickly Giorno absorbed information. By the time they're crossing the Black Sea, the child has named more stars and constellations than he himself can recognize. Giorno yawns then, pressing his face close, and falls asleep again. Jonathan takes the opportunity to increase his altitude, ducking above the clouds before rocketing down.

Dio does not need such tricks; he was able to outspeed a plane in transporting them from Japan to Italy.

But he, Jonathan, needs to make use of these differences. In them, lies the key.

Giorno comes first, of course.

When the sun rises and Giorno wakes, they are still in the sky. He complains of hunger, so Jonathan lands in a national park, foraging up some vegetation. There are deer and rabbits which he could capture and cook, but he does not think Giorno would enjoy them without seasoning.

"Tastes bad," Giorno mumbles, wrinkling his nose.

"Eat what you can," Jonathan placates, "We'll have proper food soon, I promise." To demonstrate, he pops some berries into his mouth before immediately making a face at the unusual flavor.

Giorno falls back laughing, throwing his berries into the air, "Bad!" he repeats.

"Okay, so it is quite bad..." Jonathan agrees, sampling some more of the selection. "Ah, this here, it actually tastes quite good! A little sweet, even." He offers the leafy stalk to the child, who stares at it cross-eyed.

"Vegetable bad," Giorno sniffs.

Jonathan plays a make-believe game then with Giorno as a lion and the plant as a shank of meat. Giorno predictably chomps down on the vegetable, devouring it in one bite.

"More!" he insists, opening his mouth again.

"It's good isn't it?" Jonathan tries, offering a second stalk.

"Vegetable bad," the child insists.

They take off again soon afterwards and reach Tokyo in the late afternoon. With all honesty, Jonathan doesn't have a plan. In retrospect, calling his grandson -- or even his great-granddaughter -- would have probably been optimal. As it is, he tries his best to trace Dio's steps, ending up lost beyond hope in the maze of identical apartment complexes. Giorno saves him then, pricking up at, well, something. He waves his arms, asking to be set down, and Jonathan obliges. The boy stumbles at first, falling on his hands and knees, before he pushes himself back up, practically sprinting forward.

"Kaa-san!" he shouts to a familiar apartment block, and a Japanese woman leans over the balcony. She screams in return, and the boy's real name reverberates through the complex. She practically trips in her haste to get down five flights of stairs. Jonathan steps to the side, watching mother and son sprint towards one another. They talk in a tongue he does not know, but their sentiments are universal. They are both crying then, sobbing into each other, and Jonathan sees the wrinkles in her brow.

To make a mother go for months without knowing what happened to her child...

If he knew any Japanese, he would have apologized. As it is, he retreats farther into the shadows. He is glad to have gotten the opportunity to meet Giorno; but a handful months is nothing compared to years. His father has never let him forget the knee-jerk gratitude which was inherent in children towards their parents. He does not make an appearance, only watches from the shadows for a couple days. Through the haze of thirst, he sees a swarm of reporters descending on the miraculous recovery. With ease, Haruno switches back to Japanese, spending his days with his mother and his nights alone.

Although Haruno is no more social nor his mother no less, something has changed in both of them. She makes a point not to bring her partners home; he discovers that he is no longer scared of the dark.

One night, after his mother has finished tucking him in (peppering his face with kisses and giving thanks again for his safe return) in preparation for another night out, Jonathan taps lightly on the windowsill. Haruno quickly crawls over the edge of his crib and manages to unlatch the window with great difficulty.

"Papa...!" he greets, throwing his arms around Jonathan's neck.

"Giorno," Jonathan starts, before lightly shaking his head, "No, it's Haruno now."

"Papa!"

Even now, Giorno is a clever child. Instinctively, he knows that this is the end.

"I will not be able to see you again," Jonathan confesses, kissing the child's hair, "But I'm sure you'll -- I'm sure you'll grow up to be a fine gentleman." He wipes the tears from the boy's cheeks, gently setting him down. "Be kind to your mother," he adds, thinking of the woman's ringless hands. Of how she had escaped Dio's grasp and what difficulties she must have faced in order to raise Giorno on her own. "And know that I love you dearly."

"No!" Giorno clamors, reaching for his father again, "No, stay."

"Haruno..." Jonathan winces, clasping the boy's tiny tiny hands. "Haruno, can you give me a flower?"

Although he is crying anew, Giorno is as obedient towards his father as ever. He uses his Stand to make flowers -- beautifully blue hydrangeas that glow in the moonlight -- bloom from the windowsill. Jonathan plucks two, tucking one behind each of their ears.

"There," he says, solving nothing and making himself cry as well. "We match!"

When Haruno's mother dashes in seconds later, she sees her son perched on the edge of the windowsill with a veritable bouquet of flowers outside the window. There is a large blossom in his lap and tears are streaming down his cheeks. He holds onto her tight and despite her gentle questions, refuses to give any explanation. She cancels her dinner date without hesitation, bringing her son to her room and tucking him in there. It is only when she explains that the flower, an out of season bloom by the looks of it, will wilt without water, that he relinguishes his hold on it.

Because it is something precious to her son, she carefully places it in a vase, sprinkling some plant nutrients in the water from a now-wilted bouquet of her own. Then she sets it on the bedside table and plucks a volume of fairy tales from the bedroom library. She reads through Haruno's favorite stories, stopping only when her son falls asleep.

Her parents have urged her to take him to a child psychiatrist. A specialist, even. She has declined, insisting that they would look for problems that, perhaps, did not exist. Sometimes miracles did happen -- in the tragedy that is her life, she thinks she'll take what happiness is available. Perhaps Haruno will tell her his adventures when he's older. Perhaps they will be lost to time. Whether he does or doesn't, it doesn't matter, she realizes. Though he has changed in his two months of absence, the most important thing is that he is here and back and safe and sound. She kisses his forehead and gives thanks again, turning off the lights before dozing off as well.

It is only when the lights go off that Jonathan leaves, spreading his newly-made wings and starting the journey back.

Chapter Text

Back in Italy, Dio returns to an empty abode. Aside from the rumpled sheets and the blown-open curtains, nothing else is out of place. The chairs are neatly tucked in, the children's toys (markers, crayons, and paints primarily) are in the right plastic containers, and the leftovers are still waiting to be reheated in refrigerator.

Though it looks like Jonathan and Giorno have left for a stroll, there is an air of finality to the place.

Dio waits. And waits and waits until the clock strikes twelve. He hates waiting, has hated it ever since the hospital room. 'Wait', the nurses had said, and then his mother had died. Once again, he curses the loss of Hermit Purple. Although he suspects, he cannot confirm. He takes to writing in his diary then, meticulously explaining how he came to acquire the primary and secondary stages of immortality and how he discovered the knowledge in the first place. He writes about his followers as well: how they came to serve him, what their unique abilities were. There is a missing piece of the puzzle, he has just been made aware. Someone who is able to die, but not actually die, is necessary to enter and then return from Heaven. Neither he nor Jonathan will qualify, which means he is now seeking the services of an yet-unknown unfriend.

On the topic of Jonathan, with each passing day, Dio's irritation grows. He had thought the other to be in checkmate, that this villa in the countryside would be endgame. Well, that Jonathan would be bound to it for at least a decade or so. It has been less than three months, and Jojo is unsatisfied yet again.

With a vengeance, he takes to crossing out all mentions of Jonathan's name in his research diary. Jonathan is then replaced by "the Joestar boy" in childhood and "the stupid fool" in later life. Dio skips over the trials and tribulations necessary for reviving the other, further sidelining that he had switched back their bodies (or rather, returned Jonathan's, as Jonathan had reduced Dio's original body to ashes and dust) and focusing entirely on creating a pathway to Heaven.

Jonathan is gone for eleven days. In that week and a half, Dio had filled up three-quarters of the journal, having left the villa three times for a couple hours at most to feed. When the other man returns in the dead of the night, through the front door, and makes his way up the grand staircase, Dio sees that Jonathan returns alone.

"Welcome back," Jonathan murmurs. He sweeps the feathers from his shoulders and sleeves, slipping out of his blazer to collapse on the bed.

He gives no explanation and in the silence, Dio's blood boils.

Dio turns a page and, upon discovering that he cannot concentrate on the book before him, closes the book and downs the remaining wine. There is reason in Jonathan's actions, of this he is certain, but his rejection of the child feels like an intentional slight. As if Dio's gift-come-bribe were not good enough.

"Jojo," he addresses, swiping at his lips, "Surely you understand the repurcussions for that child."

Jonathan says nothing.

"Oh, I'm sure the mother made a sensation upon the boy's return. You know how people are, they only appreciate things after they've lost them. But she will go back to her old ways. Do you really think that perfectly reasonable man will be the last in her life?"

And still, Jonathan says nothing.

"It is your choice to make in the end," Dio shrugs, "Though it is a poor conclusion to draw, thinking that that lowly woman would be able to provide more than I, Dio."

In the silence, Dio's patience wears thin.

He throws the first punch: standing up and walking over to where Jonathan was lying, calmly swinging his fist towards the other man's face. Jonathan makes no move to block, makes no attempt to evade. Dio barks a satisfied laugh, transitioning into a barrage of punches. He refuses to admit that he had grown attached to the bait; that Jonathan returning the child was in effect a personal insult. He finishes his assault, spitting on Jonathan's black and blue face. Already, Jonathan's immortal body is reconstructing itself. Within minutes, his face is back to normal.

"Damn you," Dio curses, "Damn your hypocrisy, your incompetence, you buffoonish ways!" He whirls back towards Jonathan, eyes blazing, "Couldn't you have accepted it?! Why force your son to be without a father?!"

"I was wrong," Jonathan finally says. With effort, he sits himself up.

"There's a limit to how selfish you can be," Dio spits.

"I should not have acted so rashly," the other man continues, cutting through Dio's rant, "It was wrong of me to ask without thinking. To take a child from its mother -- "

"Its negligent mother!"

"As if you were any better!"

"He is not my son!" Dio roars, sending the left bedpost flying with a swing of his hand. He does not know who he's trying to convince at this point.

Jonathan laughs. It is a bitter sound, not at all like him.

"You of all people should know -- "

"Shut up, shut up!"

But Jojo will not shut up. He continues with " -- the importance of a mother's -- " and Dio cuts him off by smashing their mouths together, a clatter of teeth and tongues. He means to draw blood, hemming and hawing at Jonathan's lip until it bleeds, and then continues his assault inside the other man's mouth.

"You make me sick," Dio snarls, claws extending to rip away at Jonathan's pants and shirt, "Your altruism is a farce -- at the end of the day, you're more selfish than me." He tears the expensive garments further, properly shredding the slacks and briefs. Jonathan is all out of fight at the moment: Dio does not forget this. He takes advantage of it however, blindfolding the other and tying his hands together.

Throwing kindness to the winds, he forces Jonathan's legs apart, sticking a finger in and practically scratching his prostate. Jonathan arches, length thickening, and Dio extracts his finger, looping Jojo's knees over his shoulders before unbuttoning his pants just enough to expose his own dripping cock. With none of the pacing from before, Dio violently slams himself in, going balls-deep from the get-go. Jonathan screams, whole body tensing, and Dio ignores him, pistoning in and out with minimal movement and maximum force.

He climaxes off of rage alone, fingernails drawing blood from his own neck. Jonathan is fully erect at this point, bound and blindfolded and going along with the illusion. Dio pulls himself out, running his bloody nails along Jonathan's chest. Then he slips out from underneath Jonathan's legs, keeping them bent at the knees, and works his arm between the other man's meaty thighs, thumb rubbing the tip of the shaft.

"Jojo," he hisses, fingers sliding through the pre-come, "You are such a filthy whore. How many times have you come impaled on my cock? I've lost count." He picks up the pace and Jonathan bucks his hips. Dio is relentless however, calling forth The World to fully immobilize the other. "I don't even need to touch you half the time." The other is close, so close, and Dio stops immediately, coldness pooling at the tips of his fingers.

Jonathan cries out in an incomprehensible manner.

"How long have you wanted this?" he asks, ever so slowly wrapping his hand about the trembling cock, "Did you dream of being taken by me in our youth? You vile child." He starts pumping again, measured and slow motions, and though The World keeps Jonathan's hips in place, his back is an imitation of a bowstring. He shakes and quivers as Dio stills his hand -- closer to the brink, and then, slowing down once more.

"Dio," he weeps, "Dio, please...!"

But Dio will not heed such things. "Begging finally now Jojo?" he asks, stop-starting again. "I can't believe I wasted three years theorizing how to go about this, when the answer was so easy." He snorts, leaning forward to lick at Jonathan's wide-open mouth before giving his balls a squeeze, "Well, you should have started sooner. I, Dio, will not be satisfied with such a pathetic display."

Eventually, Dio needs to use his other hand to keep Jonathan's thighs spread. Jonathan is a gorgeous sight as this point, sweat-shimmered skin stretched tight across impossibly-chiseled muscles. Dio has kept him on edge seven, no eight times -- the better part of an hour. Each refractory period is longer than the next, and when the orgasm finally hits, all that leaves Jonathan's cock is a weak spurt of come -- a trickle, really.

"How sad," he tuts, lightly flicking the still-hard member, "Even though I let you come, you're still like this."

Long past coherency, Jonathan gives a low moan, uselessly bucking his hips.

Dio finds himself hard again, so he has The World lift Jonathan's legs up, bending his own knees to sink into the other's entrance a second time. Jonathan's cock twitches, and Dio grabs onto his hips, leaning back and maneuvering them so that Jonathan was seated on his cock. He rolls his own hips then, retracting his nails before digging them into Jonathan's sides. He climaxes shortly, and when the white fades from his vision, he sees The World is propping Jonathan upright.

"What a sorry sight..." Dio mutters, shaking his head. He repositions his hands then, tugging insistently at Jonathan's cock. "Come then," he commands, "Come for me, you wretched thing."

Jonathan comes properly with a sob and a spurt, insides clenching tight. The World takes its leave then, and the loss of its support makes Jonathan lean forward, bound-together forearms pressed up against Dio's black top.

After some time, Dio pulls out and rolls the other off, extending his nails to hack at the laughable excuse for ropes. Though Jonathan has caught his breath, his eyes are still closed. At first, Dio thinks he is asleep. But then his hand darts out and he grabs Dio's wrist in a grip of steel.

"I know," Jonathan says, "I know that I'm a selfish hypocrite. If I could have guaranteed his safety, I would not have let him go."

It made me happy to know that Erina never remarried, and yet, here I am, with you.

There it is, another conundrum with no real answer. Dio sneers, pulling his wrist away, before giving a characteristically scathing remark.

At the crack of dawn the next day, Jonathan pulls on a new set of clothes and prepares to leave. Dio interrupts his departure by tearing off his right wing and throwing the half-formed mass of feathers and bone to the floor. He then proceeds to glare daggers at the other man.

"Who do you think you are," he demands, "Coming and going as you please?"

Jonathan steels himself, recalling the tightrope of a plan that had been formulated in New York. He is the only one who can draw Dio out and he only has one chance at playing bait. "If you follow me, I will kill you," he says in all seriousness.

It is both threat and promise.

Dio laughs, reaching up to pull off the other wing, and counters with: "Come now Jojo. Are you still hatching plots? Don't you think you've been outplayed enough? Face it, neither of us can die, and the sooner you see this world as your eternal oyster, the happier you'll be."

"I will never," Jojo declares, growing a second set of wings. And then he lies: "As I said before, I am grateful to you Dio. I still feel brotherhood towards you and wish you no ill-will. What I am aiming for no longer concerns you."

Dio backhands him neatly, calling him a colorful assortment of names, the most vivid being 'you ungrateful son of a bitch'.

"If you were truly grateful then stop running to your death!"

Jonathan smiles, tight and close-lipped. 'I cannot live like this,' he wants to say, 'I do not want to know how many favors Joseph had to pull in order to get me gallons of blood from a blood bank.' But this is not about the truth. This is about incensing Dio; this is about making him lose kilter.

This is about leading him on a chase to the death.

"Erina is waiting for me," he says instead, leaping into the skies.

Dio freezes time, bodily swats Jonathan down, and rests his foot on the other man's diaphragm at the end of the timestop.

"You know that I outpace you."

Jonathan sends him flying with a surprise surge of Ripple.

"Yes," the other man admits, "But it doesn't matter."

Stop, start, stop, start: Jonathan flies up and is batted down five more times. On the sixth time, he manages to hide himself away in the clouds, well enough that Dio cannot find him during the timestop. The refractory period from using his Stand allows Jonathan to gain some more distance, flapping his wings to gain more altitude. He gets maybe half an hour of uninterrupted flight time before Dio finds him in another time stop. His hit this time sends Jonathan crashing into the Bay of Biscay.

The second the timestop ends, Dio pushes him further into the water. Jonathan shakes the other off with another Ripple, trading his waterlogged wings for sleek black flippers. His body adapts to the situation, to his wants and needs, without conscious effort: tail and fin sprout as well and he jets off into the ocean depths.

Dio transforms as well, calling forth from his near-encyclopaedic knowledge of animal kingdom the true apex predator of the seas. His body swells, the indentation of gills stretch out from his neck, meeting the newly-formed connection from his lungs, and his arms stretch out like the ships of a sail. In terms of body structure, his weapon of choice is no different from Jonathan's. They share the same main attributes: streamlined build with flippers, fin, and tail. The key difference, of course, is size. While Jonathan has not grown, Dio has practically quintupled in length, to say nothing of mass and strength. He could eat through Jonathan in one gulp and, the next time he's able to use the timestop, does so.

For the Carcharodon megalodon, Jonathan is an insufficient appetizer.

Thankfully, Jonathan does not disappoint, rapidly shifting his body into another creature. His new choice is entirely animal and large enough to split Dio in half. And still, Jonathan grows and grows.

Dio would shriek with pain, would laugh with delight. As it is, he snaps the two halves of the supershark's body back into place, giving chase to the lumbering whale.

It is mayhem, it is madness. A zig-zag chase across the North Atlantic Ocean where they switch between endangered and extinct animals like models might switch between outfits. At some point, Jonathan breaches over the water. He is a black-and-white mammal this time, and he splits himself off into a flock of waterbirds. It is a clever enough ploy, Dio admits, breaching in turn and swallowing the flock whole.

Whereas Jonathan has no problem splitting his body up, Dio prefers to maintain a single form. A school of fish, an entire reef, a den of underwater snakes -- for a man with neither interest nor inclination for marine biology, Jonathan knows more than he should.

And then Dio realizes: while he was writing and researching, Jonathan was planning. He is prepared for this confrontation -- has pre-empted it even. The idea of falling victim to Jonathan's scheme is a nuisance, but then, when else would he get the opportunity to try out the limitations of his new body?

When the sun sets and the moon rises and he is still chasing Jonathan from form-to-form in the water, Dio understands this: his new body has no limitations. There is no species, of past or present or future -- real or imaginary -- which cannot be accessed through knowledge and willpower. He returns to his original form then, sprouting fins and a tail not unlike Jonathan's initial underwater form, and freezes time again. He swims over to Jonathan who has consolidated his body into a single creature, a handsome harbour porpoise three times the size of a normal specimen. Dio grabs the overgrown mammal by its tail, swinging it up and over the water. Time resumes, and he watches Jonathan twist and turn in the air, hitting the water hard.

The spectacle is incredibly amusing; he finds himself slowing down just to laugh.

And this, he knows, this is why he had wanted Jonathan back. There is no one else who would adapt so quickly, no one else who could present such a challenge. No one else he wants to best over and over again. This privilege, he will give to no one else. They do not deserve it. The rest of the world had stood idly by while Jonathan -- no, while Jojo -- pushed him to his limits.

"Not bad!" he pronounces, raising his arms in offering to the star-tinged sky, "But you can do better than this Jojo. Show me more -- more! Let me see how badly you want to live!"

Hundred of meters in the sky, Joseph and Abdul are in a Foundation helicoptor, squinting into the underwater drone which was relaying Jonathan and Dio's location.

"If I wasn't seeing it myself I wouldn't believe it," Abdul mutters, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," Joseph grunts. He watches the whale that is his grandfather get ripped to pieces for a fourth time without even batting an eye. Sure enough, the next set of frames reveals that Jonathan has changed into a different aquatic mammal.

"Your grandson will probably want to see these tapes," Abdul notes.

"Absolutely not!" Joseph growls, "Can you imagine how much of tantrum he'd throw, knowing we didn't tell him about this? And think of Holly, she'd have my neck for showing her son such violence! She'd probably move to Africa to punish me!"

"Of course," his fellow Stand user chuckles, "You certainly threw a tantrum yourself."

"What was I supposed to do?! Damn that Dio -- really, damn him! How dare he fool us with a dead body -- "

"It was very convincing."

"Convincing my ass! I couldn't feel Grandpa's presence at all! And then there's what happened with my Stand..."

The irony here is that everything truly is one step forward, one step back. The immortality bestowed upon Jonathan by the sixth Stone Mask meant that he no longer shared his Stand with Joseph. As such, Joseph had made a speedy recovery, mourning the final proof of his grandfather's passing all the while. Hermit Purple had fully manifested, revealing itself to be a hooded child with vines for arms and legs. And as for Jonathan, well...

"What did he ask of you?" Joseph asks. It is not the first time.

Abdul purses his lips.

"You will find out soon," he promises.

Joseph scowls.

"He's my grandfather you bastard! How dare the two of you conspire behind my back!"

There is no humor in Abdul's smile.

"They're five hundred kilometers from Belize City," he announces, smoothly changing the subject, "Mr. Joestar, could you add more fuel to the tank? We're running low."

"Sure, sure," his co-pilot agrees, grabbing a container of fuel in the back.

"Don't unsettle the cargo," Abdul adds.

"You don't need to tell me twice," Joseph shudders.

Underneath the current and with the coming of a new day, neither Jonathan nor Dio are anywhere near their limits despite their dozens of transformations and a countless liters of lost blood. The change in sea level signals the approaching shore; in preparation, Jonathan shifts back into a mostly-human form, keeping the orca's tail and upper fin. Dio catches up to him and snaps his tail off; Jonathan beats against the current, quickly regrowing the lost limb.

The sun has fully crossed the horizon by the time the coast is in-sight. Jonathan breaches again, trading fin for wings and losing the aquatic tail altogether; Dio pulls him out of the air and into the water outside of timestop, taking on the form of a giant electric eel. With tooth and nail, Jonathan fights his way out and back into the air, taking to the skies in the third and final leg of their chase. He reminds himself to breathe, folding his wings and diving down.

Up in the air, with neither current nor water pressure, the three hundred kilometers separating the El Mirador from the coastline can be crossed in a matter of minutes. However, a quick glance to the sky shows that the Speedwagon Foundation's helicoptor is lagging behind. Jonathan stalls then, allowing Dio to knock him down from the sky two or three times. They even fight it out on the ground for a bit with Dio as a crocodile and himself as a lion: claws and jaws and enormously blunt teeth. But once the helicoptor has a noticeable head start, Jonathan flees from the match, soaring above the clouds yet again and reaching the La Danta Pyramid.

At the entrance to the pyramid, he shifts back to the human, and Dio -- a grostesque mix of crocodile and pteranodon -- flies right into him, sending them both crashing to the lower levels of yet another pyramid.

Dio steps out of his own transformation then, right as Jonathan encases himself in the Ripple.

"This again Jojo?" Dio asks, facetiously yawning. "I guess this is the most your feeble mind is capable of." He mimics Jonathan's stance with a crouch of his own. His body glows with an eery green, a direct contrast to Jonathan's brilliant yellow.

"Come, Jojo!" Dio orders, flexing his human fingers.

Jonathan obliges, charging forward while screaming Dio's name. As with their childhood, Dio gains the upper hand at first, and Jonathan is quick to reverse the order. All of sudden, Dio is unguarded and Jonathan's fingers are jabbing towards his chest. Instead of an attack however, Jonathan grabs at the jewel, ripping it from Dio's breast pocket and hurling it into the air.

"Take it!" he screams, purposely missing a guard against Dio's kick. He lets himself be smashed through three walls, veering left at the last moment and shifting into a pack of rats. He spreads himself thin and has faith.

Jonathan's faith is not misplaced: Joseph seizes the hurtling Red Stone of Asia with Hermit Purple's vines while Abdul launches the helicoptor's cargo into the abyss.

It a bathtub-sized glass container which shatters upon impact. The crash echoes throughout the substructure.

Dio freezes time, but it is for not. He is unable to locate Jonathan in fifteen seconds and in his fruitless search, he does not get to see the contents of the container.

In the resuming time, Abdul plucks the Red Stone from Joseph's grasp, ignoring the other man's irritation. He clasps the jewel between his hands, calling forth his Stand.

"Magician's Red!" he bellows, "Ignite!"

"Abdul! What the -- !"

Joseph's exclamation is cut short with the surge of heat, blasting both of them back a couple feet. The whole pyramid is set ablaze, blue and white flames snaking up the walls. It is the proof Jonathan had been looking for in New York: the definitive connection between the Ripple and Stands. Both were reliant on human energy; both could be amplified with the Red Stone. Abdul's new flames are hot enough to melt stone.

"I'm sorry Mr. Joestar," Abdul apologizes. He does not know whether it's grandson or grandfather he's apologizing to.

In the lower levels, Dio is laughing.

"Did you miss the nineteenth century that much Jojo?" he taunts, freezing the ground before him, "Do you think repeating the same battle will have a different result? Fire didn't hurt me then and it won't even scratch me now!"

"The fire is just a fail-safe," Jonathan admits, revealing himself and then walking through the flames.

"Oh?" Dio asks.

"To make sure you can't run."

Dio laughs again.

"Run? What would I have to run from?"

Jonathan does not reply, instead charging at him. They fight again, and whenever Dio is faced with a direct hit, he freezes time and retreats. This happens five times before he realizes the something is wrong. And by that point, it's too late -- his Stand is sapped of energy -- practically a minute of frozen time -- and Jonathan's fist knocks the wind out of him.

"Jojo!" he howls, healing himself and guarding the follow-up punch. "This -- you -- how dare you -- " he grabs the other man's shoulders, heaving him into the flames. Jonathan cushions his fall with the Ripple and Dio pulls his upper lip back, snarling. "You have another Stand, don't you?!"

Jonathan freezes, eyes wide.

"No, that's -- "

"Don't take me for a fool Jojo!" Dio spits. There is a patch of golden thorns which makes a circle around Jonathan's feet. That distinct shade of gold is almost lost in the heat of the flames, but with Dio's visual acuity -- he can see Jonathan's new Stand is as clear as day. "So, that was why you set this place on fire. I must say Jojo, you're getting quite clever." He surges forward, confidence renewed, and their punches collide against one another.

Unlike before, there is no misstep on his part.

He does not know the abilities of Jonathan's new Stand, will never discover them, but knowing it exists gives him enough of an edge.

Somehow, however, Jonathan's Ripple manages to overpower his own. No, more than that, it expels Dio's Ripple.

He pulls his fist back, retreating yet again, but Jonathan makes every use of his advantage.

There is something to be said for experience, then. While the two of them likely had the same potential for Ripple after the Stone Mask's power-up, only Jonathan has formally trained in the art. The chase across seas and skies had been another piece of the plan: while Dio predictably had a wider knowledge of the animal kingdom, he subsequently transformed into creatures with gills while Jonathan had made a point of keeping his lungs. The difference of their energy levels in the subsequent hours is immense: with an explosive cry, Jonathan slams his palm against Dio's chest, forcing the Ripple out of the other man's body.

Jonathan's gaze is somewhere else however, and Dio swivels his head to see. There, practically oozing along the flames, is a sight he's only seen in photographs. The remains of the last Pillar Man: Santana.

In an instant, Dio sees his own loss.

Entirely unguarded, Jonathan tackles him to floor.

"Jojo, be reasonable," he tries, "It doesn't have to end like this."

His mouth moves of its own accord and he promises a litany of things then. That he will find a way to keep Jonathan from sucking blood, that he will change the structure of all vampires. That he will find a cure for the other man's immortality, that he will kill the other man himself, that Jonathan's fight is futile. And who wouldn't want to bring down Heaven to earth? -- no, only Jonathan is a large enough fool to throw everything away for a chance at death of all things. He says Giorno and Jotaro will hate Jonathan for abandoning them, that Erina will hate him for killing himself, that Joseph and Abdul will hate him for forcing them to partake in his murder --

Again, Jonathan says nothing. He shakes his head and his expression as serene as it had been on that godforsaken boat, and Dio screams until his throat is hoarse.

Later, the flames of the Red Magician will fill the whole network of underground caves with fire, burning even Santana to ashes. Joseph will be crying and he will still be crying when they go to examine the wreckage. There will be nothing left to find: indiscriminate clumps of ashes here and there. Joseph will activate Hermit Purple, asking for the location of his grandfather's remains, and Hermit Purple will not be able to answer. The two of them will fly back to New York, where Joseph will be battered first by his wife and then by his daughter and finally by his grandson. They will mourn as well, asking -- as he still does -- if there was any other way.

You had to have been there, he will not say. You had to have been there to see the death in his eyes.

Suzie will arrange a grave for both of them. Joseph will protest at the top of his lungs, insisting that Dio, that bastard son of a bitch, did not deserve a grave, much less a tombstone next to his grandfather. His wife will shut him up, saying that Jonathan had thought of Dio up until the very end. Their tombstones will have neither dates nor epitaphs and there will be no ashes for their urns.

Jotaro will grieve later, much later. The grief of having discovered the false corpse of his great-great-grandfather in the underground levels of that pyramid is still a fresh wound; the fact that he hadn't died and had spent those months with a son made of his flesh and blood has not caught up to him yet. He will go with his mother back to Japan, going through the motions of schoolwork. But he will continue to train with the Ripple and will keep in touch with his grandparents. His own Stand will manifest and he will get the chance to make good on his promise with Abdul.

Later, rumors of Dio's death will reach Egypt. Enya and Vanilla Ice will not believe, of course, and it is only when the double agent planted in the Speedwagon Foundation confirms the news that they will begin to doubt. His death does not mark the end however, both of them have seen different aspects of Dio's ambitions. They, along with the other assembled Stand users, will take it upon themselves to gain superiority. Vanilla Ice will spearhead the coalition, eventually concluding that only the blood of all living Joestars would make up for Dio's death.

Tragedy will befall Enrico Pucci and he will prick himself with the gift from the man who was greater-than-god, gifting himself with a Stand. But it is Vanilla Ice, not Dio, who will receive him in Cairo. He will mourn the other then, and he will revere him with fervency of an born-again worshipper towards an unknown God. Whereas Vanilla will be eager to take action, to take revenge, Pucci will immerse himself in Dio's belongings. His wardrobe, his model ships, his library. Eventually, he will stumble upon Dio's diary in the abandoned Italian villa, taking it upon himself to reach Heaven in the other man's place. It is Pucci who inherits Dio's ambition and it is Pucci who will spend decades combing the earth for some physical trace of his God.

But as for the two men whose fates are still bound to one another --

For them, there is no later.

Exhausted of blood and Ripple, Dio is unable to move. He maintains consciousness off of willpower alone. When Jonathan heaves himself up, lurching over to cradle Dio's head, his smile is both exultant and grim.

"And again," he whispers, as the mass of flesh and death encroaches upon them, "We die alone, together."

It is a combination of Jonathan's words, his expression, his touch. The fact that, even now, when he is about to kill Dio for a fourth time, he continues to looks apologetic. It is too much for Dio then and he finds himself crying from frustration for the second time in his life. The first time, of course, had been in their youth.

"Nothing is ever good enough for you," he spits, torn lungs choking on air. "You could never just be satisfied."

Jonathan wipes the sweat from his brow and the tears from his cheeks.

"Dio," the other dying man breathes, "You were right. There are limitations which cannot be surpassed by willpower alone. You might be stronger than any human, but you are still a vampire through and through. Which means that, at the end of all things, we are not at the end of the food chain."

"What about your descendents? What about your son?!"

"The future," Jonathan simply replies, "does not belong to us."

He closes his eyes and breathes his last. His whole body slumps forward so that their faces were almost touching.

Almost, but not quite.

This time, Jonathan does not leave Dio to waste away a century. This time, death comes as quickly as promised. Santana absorbs both of them within seconds before he too, is consumed by the fire.

-

-

-

On the edge of a precipice,
you reversed my hourglass.
(Who else could I not surpass?)

Keep busy and make do without
for time slows when we depart
(and I want to still your beating heart)

My father was a wicked man
It was plain for all to see
But I have seen the evil
And the evil is in me.

I ran to escape his shadow,
I worked to escape his sin.
But when I looked I realized
There was no hope for a win.

Now the face the mirror reflects
Is one I cannot bear to see
For I have always known his evil
And his evil, it is in me.

It has been a long time –
I didn’t ask you to stay.
(and I didn’t want it to end this way)

May all your efforts be remembered
for you gave me all you had.
(You were my good; I was your bad)

---