Written by my younger sister and edited by me for the Gilbert Nightray Figure Contest #1 hosted by phunbirthday on Tumblr.

Rated T for dark themes and implied sexual abuse of a minor.

Worth It

It was raining hard outside Lutwidge, and Gilbert leaned against the headboard of his cheap pine bed and thought about Vincent again. Had it really only been the other day that he'd cast him off in favor of his precious master? But the countless times he'd thought of him in the meantime – they made it feel like it was a lifetime ago.

I betrayed him.

After saying he'd never leave him, just like in the past, when he hadn't the courage to – after all that, Gil left behind his only brother, his only family in this world. What was Vince doing now? What was he thinking? Was he resentful? Or was he lonely? Was he still that timid child who would cower behind his older brother when he was afraid? Or had he grown up enough to stand on his own? Did he still even need his brother?

Gil drew his knees up to his chest, folded his remaining right arm over them, and rested his cheek against his hand, letting out a long sigh. The room was bare and dark – a dormitory room emptied for the long holiday. Gil had put the candles out hours ago when everyone else had gone to bed, and the moon was snuffed out by black cloud. The darkness surrounded him, vast and hollow.

A tree branch scratched at the window like a beckoning finger, and Gil slid off the bed and crossed the room. He made sure to keep quiet as he turned the knob and nudged the door open, glancing anxiously outside in case Reim was running a bathroom trip or that stupid rabbit was sleepwalking. But there was no one.

Whenever he got this way, lost in his own chaotic emotions, there was only one thing that set his heartbeat right again. He rounded the corner. Gil had to see his face. He had to reassure himself that he was worth it, that losing Vincent was mere collateral damage for something far more valuable.

Oz's room was down the hall, and with a servant's practiced grace, Gil soundlessly opened the door and slipped inside. Aside from the pattering of the rain and the occasional howl of the wind, all was silent. He stepped forward toward the bed, straining his eyes against the darkness.

The sheets were a tangled mess, and the quilt had been tossed gracelessly to the floor. Oz's nightshirt was crumpled over the headboard. Gil started and dashed forward, his heart straining against the confines of his ribcage. Oz was gone. The beloved master who he'd sacrificed everything for was gone.

There was no point in searching the room; Oz wouldn't hide. Bile rose in his throat as he tore back to his own room and threw on his coat. He didn't bother with a cravat and struggled to get two boots on and a gun in his holster with only one arm. He was out the door and into the rain in minutes.

"If I hurry, I'll be able to make it back to Pandora today."

Stupid! Why had he been so stupid as to forget that?! Just because Reim managed to momentarily slap some sense into him didn't mean Oz was completely rational! After all the trauma he'd experienced in just a few short days, how could he be? Gil scowled. He was naïve, as usual, thinking only about himself!

A cabriolet, drawn by two weary-looking horses, was trundling along down the main road, and Gil, already soaked to the bone and nearly manic with anxiety, staggered forward with his arm outstretched.

"Oi! Stop!"

The driver, startled by Gil's undoubtedly wild appearance, tugged at the reins, slowing the horses to an eventual stop.

"What do you want, sir?" he asked brusquely, eyeing the potential passenger warily. "I'm about to turn in for the night. The horses are dead tired."

"I need you to take me to Pandora," Gil gasped, stumbling forward.

"Pandora!" the driver cried. "But that's across the city! At this time of night, we don't go further than the city square!"

"It's an emergency!" Gil all but snapped, grabbing at the man's coat and shaking him. His head was spinning, his heart hammering. He had to find Oz. Now. "Come on!"

Unnerved, the driver pushed him away. "Get lost!" he spat. "I don't need to do anything for you!"

Desperately, Gil thrust his hand into his pocket and shoved a fistful of money into the man's face. "Do it!" he said. "I'll make it worth your while!"

The man's eyes narrowed, but he accepted the money and nodded behind him. "Get in. I'll take you across the city, but I won't get near Pandora. That place is swarming with knights and agents all out looking for some criminal who escaped the other night."

Gil's heart dropped at the reminder, but without another word, he jumped into the cab. Though the driver urged the horses feverishly through the streets, clearly in a hurry to be done with the errand and with the distraught passenger, Gil couldn't help but silently push them faster, hoping, praying that Oz hadn't made it to Pandora, that he was safe somewhere, or even that he'd given up and headed back to Lutwidge. But Oz was stubborn, and he knew that well enough. He was out in Reveille somewhere, and Gil needed to find him before anyone else did.

It was nearly an hour before the cab finally slowed in a well-lit residential area. Gil leapt out before the carriage had even come to a complete stop, and without a backwards glance at the harried driver, he dashed into the streets, renewing his search while taking care to avoid the various Pandora members patrolling the area. Had Oz made it this far? If he had, he definitely would have been captured, right? If Gil was correct in recalling his words from earlier that day, Oz's aim was to turn himself in. That there was still such tight security around Reveille relived him. It had to mean that Oz had yet to reach this point, that Pandora was still searching fruitlessly for him.

Gil turned and headed back the way he had come. If that was the case and Oz was still at large, then he could be anywhere from here to where Gil had started his search. Frustrated but undeterred, he sprinted down street after street, through alleyways and vacant lots, leaving no corner unchecked. The rain was coming down harder, and a grumble of thunder warned of an approaching storm, but all of it was lost on Gil, who had eyes and ears for only one.

Emerging from a narrow side street, he suddenly caught sight of another cabbie, plump and red-faced, who was stumbling out of a seedy-looking tavern. With the intention of asking him if he'd driven Oz, Gil started toward him but stopped just as soon as the man came under a streetlamp. There was a glimmer under his chin – his cloak fastener – and Gil felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of it. He'd recognized it instantly. There was no mistaking the green and gold Vessalius family crest.

He had the man by the throat in a heartbeat. "Where did you get that?!"

The cabbie was so drunk he could hardly lift his face to look at his assailant. "Customer couldn't pay the cab fare, so 'e gave me this instead," he slurred, struggling uselessly.

Gil resisted the urge to strike him. "Where did you drop him off?" he demanded.

The man's eyes rolled in his head as he tried to understand what was being asked of him, and then he worked at formulating an appropriate response. "Brought 'im 'alfway 'cross the city, first," he mumbled slowly, recalling. Then his face grew wide and content, and Gil drew back, revolted. "Said 'e needed to go all the way, but I told 'im 'is pretty little trinket wasn't enough to pay for that. So y'know what 'e does?"

The fat loach paused dramatically as if he were in the middle of retelling some epic narrative. Gil could feel his face growing hotter, his breathing falling shallow.

"Well," the cabbie said after a moment, stifling a hiccup. "What else d'you think a little boy like 'im would offer when 'e 'ad nothin' else?" He stroked the side of his face with a brittle yellow fingernail and then slumped back in a fit of drunken giggles. A moment later, he was lying flat against the cobblestone, a bloody bruise forming over his nose and Gil's gun pointed straight at his temple.

"Where did you drop him off?!" His teeth were clenched, his cheeks hot with rage. "Tell me!"

The man's slovenly face slowly morphed into an expression of shock, then fear. "Somewhere 'round here, 'bout maybe an hour ago," he rasped, staring into the barrel of the gun in terror.

Gil slid his gun back into its holster and turned his back on the man. "You're lucky you're not dead," he growled, and he took off running, back into the maze of streets and alleys with renewed vigor and fear. He didn't have time to screw around with that pig – Oz needed him. But he burned the man's image into his mind. When everything was smoothed over with Pandora – he was confident that one day, it would be – then he was going to make sure that the filth got what he deserved.

The rain didn't relent; the storm was now overhead. A streak of lightning creased the cloud overhanging the city, followed by a crack of thunder. Gil was cold and tired and distraught with the realization that Oz must be even more so. But he didn't dare call out Oz's name for fear of alerting any lurking Pandora members that may have been nearby. He splashed through the streets, thinking only of Oz and hoping only for his safety.

He didn't look long. His ears were trained on his surroundings, and as he dashed down an alleyway close to where his own coachman had dropped him off, he heard a small groan.

"Oz!" he breathed in a harsh whisper, rushing up to him. "Oz! Are you okay?!"

And he was there, leaning up against the side of a building, his ankle bloody and twisted underneath him, his eyes closed as if in sleep. He was in his dirty undershirt, his cloak and coat both gone. To Gil's revulsion, his collar was unbuttoned and his necktie undone, and finger-shaped bruises littered his chest and shoulders.

"Gil?" he said softly, his lips barely parting to form the word. "What are you doing here? You… shouldn't have followed me… I didn't want you to stop me…"

"Oz, you – you big idiot!" He collapsed onto his knees, unable to contain himself any longer. "What were you thinking?! Why – why did you do this?!" Tears dripped off his nose and slipped into the puddle beneath him. "You think giving yourself up to Pandora is going to solve anything?!"

Oz opened his eyes. They were red and tired, but they still gleamed with life and passion. "You're the idiot!" he snapped, straightening up against the wall indignantly. "You know what they're going to do if I don't show up! Glen's going to kill Break and Sharon-chan and Sharon's grandmother! And who knows who they'll go for next?! Maybe it'll be you, Gil! And then Alice and Reim-san! And – "

"Oz, enough!" Gil jerked his head up and threw his hand roughly over the other's shoulder. Oz hissed with pain, and Gil, remembering the bruises with a pang of disgust, hastily released him. "That… That's enough, alright? No more… Don't put yourself through any more pain for our sakes. Please, Oz…"

But this only seemed to fire him up more. "Why, Gil?!" he cried, clutching his shoulder as he shuffled to the side, putting distance between them. "If it's just me, it's okay! If I'm the only one getting hurt, it's fine! Because otherwise, the people I love are going to suffer for me! My mother is dead! My father was never happy because I exist! I don't know if Ada is safe! And now Uncle Oscar –"

He stopped there. Tears crested his eyes, and he hiccupped. His lips trembled, and a moment later, he broke down entirely, anguished sobs shaking his frame as tears spilled from beneath his eyelids. And then Gil had him in his one-armed embrace, pressed up against him, shielding him from the rain and wind.

"My whole family is disappearing, Gil," Oz murmured into his coat, grasping at his shirt with unsteady fingers. "So who cares if I disappear, too?"

"I do," Gil said softly, pulling back slightly and cupping Oz's chin in his palm, lifting it so that their eyes met. "Because if you're gone, then my family will disappear, too. Because you are part of my family, Oz." He'd never said it before, but he knew then that it was true.

"But what about Vincent?" Oz asked uneasily, averting his eyes. "You left him for me. Why would you do that? Isn't he your real family?"

Gil almost laughed. "That's exactly what I've been thinking, actually, up until maybe an hour ago," he said. "But when I went all over Reveille looking for you because you think you're worthless, I started to realize it. Vincent is twenty-three years old. And unlike you, Oz, he's lived all of them, making his own decisions and taking his own path." Gil hesitated for a moment. He had never seriously considered Vincent's position until that moment, but now that he looked at it – really looked – he was starting to realize the truth in his words. He continued, more confidently, "Vince is still my brother, and I stand by what I told him the other day. I want him to stay by my side, but that's something he has to decide on his own. He's old enough to stand on his own two feet. And at that moment when I left him for you – and now – I knew that you needed me the most. That's why, right now, I have to be by your side, Oz! Because you're my precious family as well. Just like Break and Sharon and Reim and even that stupid rabbit. So there's absolutely no way that I could let you do what you're trying to do. Got it?!" he added, a slight flush rising to his cheeks in spite of himself.

"We're… family?" Oz asked softly, tilting his head up, tears brimming in his eyes again.

"That's right!" Gil said with an emphatic nod. "That means that everything I've done for you up until now, everything that I'll ever do for your sake – I don't regret anything. I won't! Not ever! Because you're worth it, Oz!"

And he was. Vincent would come around. Gil knew he would, eventually. And someday, Oz would be able to stand on his own as well. But until that time came, Gil would protect him. He would guide him with the wisdom of a father, the affection of an uncle, the companionship of a brother, the passion of a lover. They would stick together like a real family. Because after everything they'd been through and all the trials they'd have to face, wasn't that what they were anyway?