Thank you once again to the people who gave me such kind encouragement on my first effort. This story is perhaps a little more resonant with me, drawing as it does on experiences that are closer to my real life than I'd normally want to commit to paper. I will have to see if that makes for better writing or not.

This constitutes a companion piece to "The Lonely."

Standard disclaimers apply.

He had been maintaining a rucksack of fresh clothes for quite a while now, hidden at the back of his wardrobe under an old coat he'd not worn for years. He'd packed the essentials, enough to keep him going for a week, along with a stash of money and a couple of maps. So far it had remained undisturbed, which helped ease his mind a little. He could scarce afford to be discovered before he'd finalised plans for escape.

The house-servants were making sure to check in on him regularly, as per his father's directives. Even his maid, Annelise, was being instructed to keep a watchful eye and inform the head butler if any of his behaviour was out of the ordinary. It was a shame. He'd always been fond of the girl, who'd treated him more like a big brother than the 'young master', but she was paid for a purpose and could not afford to anger her employer.

No-one in the house could afford to anger Titus Caluroso, not since the incident. They would not breathe a word about it to one another, but they all knew. They had all seen it.

Alphonse sat himself on the end of his bed, hands pressed to his temples, scouring his brain to ensure he'd accounted for everything, shooting frequent glances at the clock. He felt coiled like a spring, uncomfortably taut. It had taken so long, but an opportunity had presented itself and could not be wasted.

There had been a rumour passing amongst the house staff this afternoon that O'Donnell, leader of the infamous Starwolf, was holed up at Corinthe's Spaceport, left alone because the local arm of the Judiciary was too spineless to try apprehending him. "If they just stormed in now, they could catch him easily." one of the kitchen staff had been saying. "There's only the two of them now, after all." They had been bemoaning the lack of backbone in their local law enforcement, but Alphonse had felt inspiration strike in that moment.

The timing could not have been more perfect, with his father hosting a business meeting in the offices at the far end of the house. Even if it were only a rumour, he had to take his chances now. The longer he left it, the greater the chances of being discovered before he could make a move.

He'd been down to dinner recently, none of the servants able to meet his gaze when he'd asked to dine alone. They remained, of course, though Annelise had at least obliged by shuffling out of the room hurriedly, face grim. Judd, the head butler, had escorted him back to his room, which had been around quarter to seven. Alphonse glanced at the clock again. Five past seven on the dot, the sun having gone down a good hour earlier. There was probably, at most, fifteen minutes before someone was sent to make sure he was behaving himself.

The rucksack was sitting in front of him, between his legs, ready to go. He'd not bothered checking it today, he'd looked in so many times he could probably list the contents from memory. Snatching the handles securely, he sprung to his feet and headed to the windows, pushing them open. This had played out so many times in his head as he obsessing over the details, it had to work.

He leaped out, reaching out his free hand with claws outstretched to dig into the bark of the tree opposite, using it to slide to ground, ignoring the pain. Landing with a thump he swiftly glanced around, wary for any sign of being noticed, but there was nothing. His fingers aching, he flexed them and headed for the garages, keeping to the shadows as best he could.

Earlier he'd been canny enough to swipe the keys to his mother's two seater, not the fastest car on the grounds by certainly the quietest by some margin. As he went to start the engine, he finally noticed the tremor in his hands, his racing heartbeat. -Not now, I need to focus, I need to focus!- Jamming the key into the lock, he hit the ignition and gently eased the car down the drive, keeping the lights off and avoiding the gravel either side of him. He spared a glance into the rear-view mirror: the mansion still looked quiet, no-one had yet run out to catch him in the act.

A sudden vibration in his pocket sent a shock through the length of him, his tail whipping behind him like painfully: a message to his mobile, now? He fought to keep his composure and carried on, following the road on the lowest power setting he could manage without stalling. It was certain that someone would have been sent to check on him by now, but they would waste precious minutes searching the east wing of the house before the alarm was raised.

The gates to the estate were open, which was unusual, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune, coasting past them and out onto the main road. He turned left and put his foot down, feeling the engine come to life and take the car forward with sudden speed. He kept the lights off for an extra ten minutes before he felt far enough away to risk turning them on, breathing a sigh of relief as he joined the sparse traffic on the motorway. So far, so good, it seemed.

x x x

The first time he saw Wolf O'Donnell, he'd thought he was a vagrant. This was an observation he decided not to share, naturally. Still, he'd not been impressed, even once he'd figured out exactly who he'd been talking to.

Well, it was to be expected, wasn't it? He'd seen so much of the infamous Starwolf team, heard of the Wolven heavy strike fighters they'd been using and the various escapades they'd embarked upon... he'd guessed the news was prone to romanticising things a little, but there was precious little in the way of romance and glamour in their first meeting.

The drive to Corinthe took about three hours, during which he'd had a chance to think, which was perhaps the worst thing he could have done. By the time he actually got onto the winding road leading up to the spaceport proper he'd been near enough hyperventilating and checking his mirrors every ten seconds for fear that his pursuers would be mere feet behind him.

Stepping out of the car and breathing in the cool night air had been a shock to the system, but a much needed one. From up here on the high hills where the spaceport was situated, he could see for miles around. Everything was quiet, not a siren or speeding car in sight. He'd already known he was over-reacting, but it was useful to see the proof.

Inside the port office, the clerk had pointed him, albeit reluctantly. to Hanger 19, giving him dire warnings he'd barely acknowledged. What good would it do to take them to heart? He could no longer go back or stay still, only move forward, whatever the danger. When his phone had started to vibrate in his pocket again, he hurried his pace. Time was beginning to run out.

So here he was, certainly the right place, but where he had been expecting to see at least a Wolven sitting in dock, there was only a beat-up Vespedrile, a god-damn tow ship of all things. Most of the overhead lights in the hanger had been left off, only illuminating the sole occupied corner. Someone had cracked open just about every service panel the Vesp possessed, presumably the same someone now leaning into the engine compartment.

What little Alphonse could see of him was torn blue jeans and a little of his white shirt, both of them covered in oil streaks, along with a tail currently covered by an oil-stained rag. A toolbox lay open on top of a nearby packing crate, the faint blue flash of an active comms unit visible from within.

-Vagrant.- He had assumed this immediately. There were always one or two in any spaceport, lonely wanderers drifting around the system, setting down wherever and whenever they could for repairs or work odd-jobs for food money. They had no home to call their own, only their ships and their wits to see them through life.

A thorough scan of the rest of the hanger, dark as most of it was, poured cold dread in his stomach. No sign of the mercenary or his ship, and the nearby hangers had been open and empty as he passed... Alphonse realised his big plan might finally be coming off the rails. Here he was, a runaway from home standing in a dirty spaceport, staring at a vagrant's ass. He hadn't expected everything to go completely smoothly, but this was a little depressing.

He had to try and salvage the situation. Perhaps Captain O'Donnell had merely stepped out? Only one way to find out.

"Hello?" No response, except a few quiet snatches of tuneless whistling. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me? Do you know where I may find Wolf O'Donnell?" The whistling stopped.

"What do you want with a troublemaker like that?" came the eventual reply, amongst the racket of a number of hammer strikes. Alphonse looked around nervously. Vagrant or no, he didn't want to risk being overheard asking this. He lowered his voice.

"I had heard" he glanced around again, wringing his hands, "that he was in need of a new pilot, and looking for a replacement."

"Heh! So they say... what makes you think you're up to the job?"

The effrontery of this greasy hobo, questioning his credentials! "I think that is for him to assess." he shot back, voice suddenly brittle and cold, feeling the anger flare up in his stomach. He could not afford to be delayed, certainly not by interstellar delinquents with ideas above their station!

"Alright then, kid." Wolf stepped out from behind the open engine panel, snatching the rag from over his tail and wiping his hands on it, giving Alphonse the shock of his life when he realised who he'd been snapping at. "So I'm assessin' you. What's a snot-nosed rich kid like you got to offer my team?"

The panther's jaw worked up and down soundlessly for a moment before he realised he was being given a chance to sell himself on his merits. He swallowed nervously and tried to compose himself. -Come on, Alphonse! You have to convince him quick!-

"I, uh... I have Academy Commendations of Excellence in space and atmospheric navigation..." Wolf nodded, not looking up from the business of getting the oil from under his claws, while Alphonse stared at the floor and tried to dredge up his qualifications from memory without stuttering over them. "I'm fluent in all s-system languages, major and minor, an ACE in G-Induction and diffusion engineering, I have..."

"Yeah yeah kid, very cool." Wolf waved him down before he could go any further. "So yer qualified. Got more pats on the head than I'll ever have, for sure." He shot him a skeptical look, which rooted the feline to the spot. "Still doesn't tell me jack about why you want in."

Alphonse felt a sliver of pure panic shoot through him: Surely he was worth at least enquiring further about? Was O'Donnell not convinced? Not even impressed, perhaps? He dropped his hands to his sides, the left almost recoiling as it brushed against the phone in his pocket, which was vibrating again. -Not good, not good!- If he couldn't convince him to take him on as a pilot... -shit shit shit!- It wasn't like he could book passage off-world without his ID card, and that had been the first thing his father had taken!

"I-I-I can pay..." he struggled to keep his tone even, even as his tail start to shiver uncontrollably, betraying his nerves for all to see.

Wolf raised an eyebrow, looking thoughtful for a moment. "You need it bad, don't you?" He turned back to the Vesp and pushed the main engine panel closed. "I wonder..."

A crackle came from the toolbox as a voice interrupted. "Wolf, respond!"

"What is it, Leon? I'm almost..."

"Radar is picking up a large Judiciary presence headed your way! Do you have the goods and transport secured? Return to the carrier ASAP!"

Wolf's good eye widened momentarily before he snapped back into action and grabbed the comms unit out the toolbox, throwing in the loose tools nearby in before snapping the lid shut and toting it back to the Vespedrile at speed, stowing it in the cargo space. "Looks like your Papetoon flatfoots finally got themselves a shred of courage, guess this interview is over."

"But...!"

"Look kid, I sympathise, you obviously got your reasons, but it ain't all darin' adventure and battle for us, you know. Most of the time it's kinda like this. You'd get bored real fast." He was definitely rushing now, moving around his ship sealing the open service panels as fast as he could manage. A sudden wave of guilt nudged Alphonse forward to help. He could guess why the law had suddenly decided to turn up, and it wasn't for the mercenary.

Once the last panel had been closed, Wolf made a dash for the pilot's door. "Sorry we couldn't talk more, kid." he offered as he moved past. -No... why now?- His chance was gone, just like that, and he felt despair reaching out to swallow him whole as the Vesp's door clicked and hissed open.

"Please..."

Something in the tone of the panther's voice stopped Wolf in his tracks; a note of desperation that hadn't been there before. He turned back to look at Alphonse, standing with his back to him, tail still shivering, fists balled tightly. He wasn't asking the mercenary, or anyone else, just the universe around him. Pleading.

"Please, get me away from here."

There was a long moment of silence, followed by footsteps and the sound of the cockpit door being swung wide.

"C'mon then, let's see them fancy certificates of yours in action."

Alphonse turned to see Wolf holding open the pilot-side door for him, wearing a mischievous grin. It was all he could do not to dive in head-first.

x x x

Some time later...

After all the excitement earlier, sitting quietly in the hanger of the Starwolf carrier was, by comparison, unnervingly quiet. His unease was not helped by having Leon glaring at him through the cockpit window as soon as he'd touched down, like he was some kind of spacial anomaly. The chameleon had dragged his boss out the Vespedrile soon after, no doubt for the heated 'conversation' he could faintly hear from the nearby hallway.

He'd yet to actually move to leave the ship, or even let go of the flight control. In the panic of making his getaway he'd gripped it so tightly it had brought his claws out, burying them deep into the rubberised grip, which were so far reluctant to let them go. It was uncomfortable, but that was alright, really. The sensation in his fingers it caused was something to focus on, something that wasn't the feeling of his phone, pressing against his leg.

-This is one hell of a tow-ship.- Alphonse mused to himself, looking around the cockpit. Most Vesps handled like a pig in mud, but this one had obviously received some serious modification. The controls had been sharp as knives, and the power was like the entire ship was sixty percent engine, which was just unreal. He could have sped literal rings around the Judicer craft with a few flicks of his wrist alone, he almost had. He'd even managed to impress Wolf, who'd quickly strapped himself in securely after the first spinning sideways dive had nearly tossed him out of his seat.

Now, he had to wait, which was fine. Time enough to compose himself a little, and remind himself that he'd done what he'd set out to do, escaping beyond the reach of his father's grasp. Who knew, perhaps he could even persuade himself to be happy about it.

He flexed his fingers a few times, feeling one of his claws eventually come free with a 'thunk', sliding back into its sheath slowly. A few more twitches in his muscles and the rest came loose one by one, until finally he cradled his sore hands in his lap, his fingertips full of that strange over-stretched feeling he got after making too much use of his natural weapons.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Wolf coming back, seeing his stern expression even at this distance. No doubt he'd figured out the reason for the unexpected race against the law earlier, and was most likely angry. It came as a surprise when, rather than grabbing him out the pilot seat by the scruff of his neck, Wolf climbed back in the passenger seat and closed the door behind him.

"You got some explainin' to do, Caluroso. Like how the hell a runaway kid warrants half the damn police in the county ridin' to come fetch you back, say?"

Alphonse nodded wearily. Fatigue was creeping up on him. "Where should I start?"

"Well... how come the son of Papetoon's biggest landowner ends up comin' to me for a job?"

"I needed to get away." he replied, voice flat, even when Wolf gave him a curious, sideways glance. "I had to escape, however I could."

"So tell me why. I kinda need to know before I can think about letting you on the team."

Alphonse tilted his head to look at Wolf, who was giving him what approximated a friendly, concerned look. He suspected the friendliness and concern were aimed in two different directions, but that was fine. It was all fine now, whether he kept quiet and got dropped on the nearest planet, or told all and got the same plus weird looks all the way there. He leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. All fine or not, it was easier to talk if he imagined his words just being swallowed by the darkness.

"It started when I was eighteen, on my birthday..."

He told his story simply, without embellishment. He refrained from making anyone the hero or villain, or letting emotion skew his perspective, even as his voice occasionally wavered at his recollection. Wolf sat and listened patiently, interrupting only once to ask a question, otherwise keeping quiet, which had taken Alphonse by surprise. He'd not expected a mercenary to be much interested in his circumstances, but every time he paused too long he was gently encouraged to continue, so eventually it all came out, without omission. He never once opened his eyes, and never saw the other's expression.

At the end of it, once he'd laid out the entire sorry tale, Wolf nodded and became thoughtful, staring out across the hanger as he digested it all, making sense of it. By the time he turned back to ask more, Alphonse had fallen dead asleep, his energy reserves finally spent. Grabbing his jacket from behind his seat, he draped it over the feline with care before stepping out the cockpit and pushing the door closed, keeping quiet as he headed to the bridge.

x x x

Leon looked up from his seat at the navigation console as Wolf crossed to his chair and dropped into it heavily, stretching out. "So, what did Mr High Society have to say for himself?" the chameleon finally asked.

"He's on the run. Sounds like he's got the family from hell."

"Huh." Leon rolled his eyes. "Doesn't every teenager think that?"

Wolf went quiet for a moment before he replied, forming his answer carefully. "Most of them, yeah. But I think he's maybe right."

Leon raised an eye ridge and shrugged, turning back to his map. "It's your call. You're the boss."

Wolf nodded slowly and swivelled his chair to look out at space. He wasn't the charitable type, normally, but there was little to be gained from letting such a talented pilot just walk away. Especially when he was a pilot down on his minimum crew. Besides... he was starting to feel sorry for the guy, and that was rare enough that he'd at least make the effort to bring him on board.

"Leon, when you're done with the course, crack into the files for Corinthe Mercy Hospital on Papetoon, look for info on someone called Edris Canes. Male, canine." He tilted his chair and propped his feet up on the support for his console. "Figure we might as well check his story scans before we break out the party hats."

Leon nodded and scooted over to the computer. At last, something juicy to sink his teeth into: Espionage.

x x x

He didn't dream, for which he was thankful. Beyond the boundaries of his subconscious and the waking world, monstrous visions waited to terrify him. If he never dreamt again it would be a blessed relief.

The jacket had slipped down as he had turned in his sleep, now draped across his legs keeping at least some of him warm. He smoothed the fabric with the flat of his hands before folding it and placing it neatly across the passenger seat. There was no chronometer in sight, and he idly wondered how long he'd been asleep.

So, this was success? He'd got away from Papetoon, despite all his doubts and the close shave involving over twenty Judicer pursuit craft. That had been too crazy, too close. Spinning the Vesp to make it almost impossible to get a clear shot on it was a highlight, certainly. Now he was en-route to... wherever. Somewhere other than home, which was good enough. He'd be out of range. -Out of range... oh!-

The thought suddenly occurred to him and he pulled his phone out. It had been vibrating in his pocket all during his daredevil flight, his heart threatening to beat right out his chest with each tell-tale buzz. Once he'd left the atmosphere and moved out of satellite range, it had mercifully stopped.

Did he dare look? It wasn't like he expected it to be anything but a stack of abuse he'd received. He gingerly flipped it open and checked the display. Somehow he'd managed to clock up eight missed calls, 23 messages and two p-mails. The voice mail indicator was lit, but away from the reach of the local network he'd be unable to listen to them, which was probably a blessing. He clicked into the menu and looked through, noting the six missed calls from his father and two from Judd. Doubtless the faithful retainer had been roped into trying to contact him while his father hammered redial.

The messages were only a little more varied. Before the expected flurry of text-based parental rage, though, was a surprising entry: Annelise. Why would she be sending him messages? He somehow doubted the entire staff had been enlisted in trying to get through to him. Flicking down to the details, he blinked in surprise when he saw the time stamp. The message had been sent at ten past seven the previous evening, which would have been when he was sneaking the car down the drive towards the gates. Why had she messaged him then, of all times? He opened the message, curiosity demanding he investigate.

-Mr Caluroso, I hope you are on your way when you get this, I have left the gates open for you. I'm sorry I can't help more, will keep the others from finding you've gone as long as I can. I put some things of yours I hid from your father in your bag, I know how much they mean to you. Be safe.-

He felt the sting of tears beginning to well up and pushed it down, commanding his body not to let them out, like he'd been doing for so many months now. So she'd known, and... the gate had been her doing? If his father found out it had been her who'd assisted him, she'd... His father's rage would not be sated by a mere strike of the hand or a beating, he'd leave her bloody and broken. He would have to hope the other staff would not let it happen. What else could he do now but hope for her?

Pressing his hands against his face, he took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm down. There was no point having an almighty freak out before he knew anything about what happened, right? He nodded to himself and popped the seal on his door, stepping out into the hanger and making a beeline for the hallway leading to the rest of the ship. He'd waited long enough.

x x x

A few minutes later and he'd arrived on the bridge, having taken in such sights as Storage Locker One and Three, as well as the curiously spotless canteen. He took one look across the room at Wolf, still lounging in the captain's chair in his oil-stained everything, and decided that it was almost certainly Leon who'd taken charge of the kitchen area.

"How long was I asleep for?" he asked quietly, stretching a little to work out the stiffness in his spine.

"About three hours. Figured you could use a rest after tellin' me all that." Wolf turned and gestured to a nearby chair, which was quickly occupied.

"Quite an exceptional tow-ship, though not the most comfortable place to sleep."

"Yeah... she's my little hobby." Wolf grinned and swivelled a little in his chair. "I like havin' some wings just for flyin' with. Just for fun, y'know?" Alphonse shrugged non-committally: regardless of skill, piloting had always been something that was a task, rather than a pleasure.

With no verbal response forthcoming, the captain coughed and carried on. "Anyway kid, the rules here are simple. No stealin' from each other, no givin' me any shit when I tell you to do somethin', no making trouble when we're out on missions. We got enough people chasin' us round the system without earnin' more. Get it?"

The panther looked shell-shocked. "So... I'm in?" It didn't seem real. Just like that, eh?

"Bingo. Your story checks out, not to mention you're a damn fine pilot. Like you said, I was a man down. Besides, I ain't goin' back to Papetoon any time soon, which I reckon probably suits you just fine, am I right?"

Alphonse nodded absently, still looking dazed as he tried to convince himself it had all happened. He'd started the day all but imprisoned in the mansion, and now? Out in the middle of space on Wolf O'Donnell's carrier. It was hard to credit he was capable of making such a change to his life, but here he was, and he'd changed everything. The proof was there.

So why did the idea refuse to hit home with any sense of conviction?

Wolf got to his feet, stretching and yawning hugely before rummaging around in his pocket. He fished out a key and pressed it into Alphonse's palm.

"Yours is the room up the stairs, first on the right with number 6 on the door. I'm gonna go get some sleep, you oughtta too." Wolf strode past, patting the panther on the shoulder without breaking his stride. "I put your bag in there for you. G'night."

With his new captain gone, Alphonse stood there for a few moments, key in hand, feeling utterly lost, before the notion of bed coaxed a jaw-straining yawn out of him. More sleep didn't seem like such a bad idea at this point. Following Wolf's directions, he stumbled upstairs to the row of doors in the upper corridor, pushing the door open on his new living quarters.

It was better than he'd expected. He let the door swing closed and looked around. A desk was in one corner, the bed pushed into the other, the sheets and pillows both looking clean enough. There was even a window, so he'd have decent views some of the time, when they were in orbit. Right now, however, the view didn't matter, sleep was the thing. He sat on the bed and was about to stretch out when he noticed his rucksack on the end of the bed.

-I put some things of yours I hid from your father in your bag, I know how much they mean to you-

Annelise's message... he'd almost forgotten about it. Grabbing the back over by the handles, he unzipped it and peered inside. Tired as he was, he still couldn't hold back the smile: she'd saved his camera! He'd been sure it had met some untimely end under a hammer, but here it was... hmm? Underneath the camera lay a thick manilla envelope, sealed with tape.

He picked it up cautiously between forefinger and thumb, then turned it over in his hands a couple of times, feeling the contents slide around inside. Was it money? He flicked out a claw and cut the top open, tipping it out onto the bed. The smile died on his face instantly, a tremor starting up in his tail again.

As soon as he caught sight of the first photograph, that's when it hit him, really hit home to the deepest part of him, that he'd escaped and left everything behind. Even the things he shouldn't have. He didn't even realise the tears were falling from him until the first cry shook its way from his chest, but by then it was too late.

Because now he knew, he was the vagrant, with nothing to return to, only the memories of happiness lost, held in these photographs.

The tears just wouldn't stop.