Frankenstein came to himself with a loud gasp. He was no longer in that tiny alley. No, he had returned to his house that he shared with –

Oh god, Raizel.

He stood up, enduring the dizzying spell that threatened to scourge his stomach of its contents. He needed – he needed so badly to see Raizel. Because he couldn't – hadn't just ruined the only one good thing in his life, had he?

"Sit down," the Lord said, tugging on his arm and pushing him down physically. "You're in no state to walk around."

Frankenstein sat down, numb. He couldn't look Emsworth in the eyes. He couldn't face any of them.

"Don't blame yourself," the Lord said kindly. His grip loosened. "It was Raizel's decision."

"No," Frankenstein said with a hollow laugh. "I forced him. I know his nature – I forced him because even then I was aware of the way he works. I knew subconsciously."

"The only reason he didn't do this in the first place was because he knew it would bother you. But when you asked him yourself…"

"How is he?" Frankenstein asked dully.

The Lord's expression turned grim. "He's not dead yet."

That didn't comfort Frankenstein at all. He clutched the hem of his pyjamas – it seemed like they had changed him while he was out of it – and stared at the wall. He swallowed down bile and tried not to let any sound escape him.

"With a little rest, he will be all right," the Lord continued, having given Frankenstein enough space to compose himself. "He won't die just yet, because your lives are inextricably intertwined now."

"So he will live," Frankenstein repeated, voice raw and aching. "To sustain my life."

The Lord nodded, agony writ on his features like a live thing. "As long as it's in his power to do so. And when he cannot, he will find another way to maintain your life before he is gone forever."

"I don't," he swallowed – tears, vomit, he was no longer sure what. "I didn't –" He did ask for this. He was the reason that this had happened. He couldn't push the blame on anyone else, nor could he wash his hands off it.

"It would not do to blame yourself, when it isn't your fault. He wouldn't want you to." The Lord placed his hand on Frankenstein's shoulder, grounding him, bringing him back.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use your powers on me," Frankenstein said, resenting the fact that he was feeling better. He didn't deserve to. "Not when it's bound to hurt you."

The hand didn't withdraw, but the pressure behind it lightened. The Lord chuckled softly. "It seems wrong that I should stay untouched when he –"

"He wouldn't want you to use that kind of reasoning," Frankenstein said. "He doesn't want to burden you when you are already supposed to be free."

The smile on the Lord's face died. He pulled his hand away finally and folded it in his lap. "You and he," he began, then took a deep breath and sighed. "He gave you his soul, so in a way, you two are a shared existence. He had to make you this way so that you'd be able to withstand the pressure of his powers."

"But not what torments him so," Frankenstein said, feeling sicker as knowledge poured into him now that he'd learned to tap into it. "He accepted my pain too. Took it upon himself so as to spare me."

The Lord remained silent. There was nothing he could provide as comfort, not even empty words. Frankenstein, for his part, now was in full possession of all his memories, everything that had happened to him, back then in the Organisation, every single thing restored to him because Raizel had willed it so. And yet, the only thing on his mind was what he'd put Raizel through. And how unforgivable it all was.

He deserved to die. More than anything, and yet, Raizel had ensured – on the cost of everything – that he wouldn't. Frankenstein laughed at the irony of his own request, or tried, at any rate. It only came out as a horrible, strangled noise he could no longer control.


"Here," he said, voice still thick and scratchy. "I made you some ramyeon."

Raizel took the bowl from his hands and stared at the piping hot soup, the perfectly cooked noodles and the egg on top of it. His hands trembled only vaguely now. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Frankenstein sat down next to him and tried not to openly grimace. It had been a couple of days and Raizel still looked so frail. He didn't move much, he barely spoke and he wouldn't eat unless Frankenstein really insisted. Frankenstein knew that eating human food wouldn't nourish him, but it was a ritual between them and he was loath to break it.

He wasn't inclined to talk about what happened between them either. Where would he start anyway? Asking him so many questions or remonstrating with him seemed like an awful thing to do. He felt that if he even spoke too loudly, Raizel might just disappear from the force of it.

His skin looked papery, his hair lank and his face was drawn. He was still in his adult form, unable to return to the smaller one because of how weak he was, even though it was painful.

"You do not eat," Raizel said, taking a delicate bite from the meat he had put into the broth. "Yet you insist on feeding me though it benefits me none."

'I don't know what else to do for you," Frankenstein said, unable to contain the anguish in his voice.

"Not starving yourself would be a good place to start," Raizel said. He hadn't stopped eating however, so that was a good thing.

"I'm not starving myself. I did try to eat, today too, but it all comes back up. There's no space inside of me other than the –" He cut himself off and bit his lip, drawing blood. It healed right away, much to his annoyance.

"Are you angry with me?"

"You?" What an idea. "No, god, no. I'm angry at myself. For letting this happen. For draining your life. For hitting you and making you bleed. I cannot even count how many awful things I have done to you."

"Not on purpose," Raizel said gently after he'd finished eating. He set the empty bowl aside and faced Frankenstein with a steady look on his face.

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen," Frankenstein said. It was ridiculous that Raizel wouldn't see his point, when he loved to blame himself for the wrongs someone else committed. "Just because I wasn't in the right mind or didn't know what I was doing, it doesn't absolve me from the crime of causing you pain. If you stab someone by mistake, it does not mean they aren't going to bleed just because you didn't mean to hurt them."

Raizel kept his silence then, either realising that what Frankenstein said was correct or not wanting to upset him further.

"Am I immortal now or something?" Frankenstein asked eventually. The question had been bothering him for some time already, so he might as well ask now that Raizel could feel well enough to talk.

"Yes," Raizel said, choosing his words carefully. "In a manner of speaking. As long as I exist, there is no danger to you whatsoever. Even if someone were to burn you down, you'd be reborn from the ashes. Not," he looked a little ill as he spoke, "that I wish that kind of thing to happen to you. However, if I die…"

"The Lord mentioned something about that."

"Yes, if I can find a way to sustain your life with something other than my soul itself, you would continue living as long as you want or as long as that thing holds out."

"If I chose to die now, would that fix you somewhat? Please don't lie to me."

Colour drained from Raizel's already pallid face. He shook his head, unable to speak and hunched into himself as if Frankenstein's words had physically wounded him.

"No, I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, wringing his hands before reaching out and taking Raizel's in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Raizel did not pull away, and for that Frankenstein was grateful. He cradled Raizel's hand in his palms, gently, carefully and tried not to panic at how light it was. How insubstantial. Thinking of those things would only sadden Raizel and him, and through their mental feedback loop, it would only increase the misery on both ends.

"I knew it would cause you grief when I made this decision. If someone ought to feel guilty, it shouldn't be you," Raizel told him.

"No," Frankenstein said. "Let's stop this because no matter how much we argue over this, we can't ever settle this matter. There's another, more important issue that I'd like to address. What can I do for you now? Is there any way in which I can assist you?" It was a circular discussion, one that wouldn't benefit the either of them. He'd rather spend his time trying to come up with ways to undo the damage Raizel had done to himself. However:

Raizel gave it some thought. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

Frankenstein's heart plummeted to his stomach and he sighed. "Ah, so I'm really useless then."

"No, it's fine if you stay here. By my side. Unless…" There was a longer pause during which he seemed to mull over something. Then, Raizel said in a softer voice. "Unless you'd rather not."

Frankenstein regarded him carefully. As always when Raizel wanted something but wasn't sure he was allowed to have it, he'd look away, he'd act as if he wasn't important enough or just try to make himself less conspicuous. It was both endearing and frustrating to watch, so Frankenstein made up his mind. He took a while deliberately because he didn't want to come across as making a rash decision. He knew he wasn't, and he certainly didn't want Raizel thinking that.

He got up from his seat and got down on the floor, knees on the ground and elbows propped on the bed and continued holding onto Raizel's hand. "I promise I'll always stay by your side. Since I can't die, that works out in your favour – and mine too, of course. I'll never abandon you, this I promise. You gave me my life, so it's yours now. It belongs to you – completely and utterly."

Raizel did not reply at once. His Adam's apple moved a little as he swallowed and then his face took on a full-blown blush. It surprised Frankenstein, but not enough to drop his hand or stop kneeling. It was a bit like him swearing undying loyalty to a king, and while Raizel was no royalty, he was actually something much, much higher. It made sense for Frankenstein to do it like this, in its own way, though he wasn't sure Raizel was all that keen on it.

"Is that all right?" He asked, squeezing Raizel's hand and smiling at him.

"Yes," Raizel replied. His voice was just a little shy, just a little hesitant, but he could hear the note of happiness buried deep within it.

Too bad, thought Frankenstein, that he was stuck in this adult body. Had it been a child, Frankenstein certainly would have given him a long, warm hug. He could, still, of course but the idea of holding Raizel when he looked like this was just a little bit embarrassing. He did hug him before in this form, but that was back when they hadn't known each other like this. They weren't this close either.

He could also feel Raizel's presence in his mind, now, just on the periphery, and the dense ball of warmth that resided within him now, where his power thrummed incessantly. It was strange, something so foreign embedded deep into his body – and yet, it was neither invasive nor uncomfortable. It was as if Raizel's soul had blended seamlessly with his and completed it, filled the vacancies that every human being seemed to have. Why else would people go all their lives, searching for something that always seemed beyond their grasp? Frankenstein had finally found it, however.

He did not feel lonely, not even when Raizel had not woken up and he'd felt really, really miserable. Even in those moments, he could feel another within himself, trying desperately to provide some comfort. Was that how it was supposed to be when you were loved? Because what else could this be, if not love? The deep and unnameable emotion that Raizel felt for him, it had to be love.

Unselfish, giving and needlessly kind.

Just like Raizel himself.

It should have been terrifying, to be on the receiving end of such an intense feeling, and yet it wasn't. Frankenstein had spent a long time away from people, laying low and not wanting to connect to another human being. His time in the Organisation had left him incapable of feeling for anyone in any capacity, or so he had thought anyway. Innocent children were his weakness, and he had known it. Was it strange that Raizel's form had been that of a child and he had been drawn to it pretty much immediately? He knew it wasn't by design. The smaller the form Raizel used the less power it cost to maintain.

Besides, a child's form was naturally something that was pure and guileless, so it was perfect for a being like Raizel. He hadn't been able to see it before. But when he looked at him now, being able to almost see through him – in more ways than one – he knew it to be true.

When Raizel hadn't left his position, when he hadn't lost his glory and might, his job had been to take lives. He had power over all living beings, and he was their guide in their last moments on earth: a psychopomp. It wasn't as much that he brought death – no, it would be more accurate that he gave them peace when they had none as long as they dwelled on the earth.

As a being of power, of course he wasn't attendant to every single living soul on the earth. He was ubiquitous: his power spreading over the cosmos and able to touch every single living thing. The scope of it was terrifying, and yet sitting here, in front of Raizel, looking into his tired face, he didn't feel any such thing.

No wonder he had been able to tear Frankenstein's soul away from the natural cycle of death and rebirth. He had power, but he was no longer allowed to make use of it, and yet he had for Frankenstein's sake. He really shouldn't have.

"Frankenstein," Raizel spoke, curling his fingers around Frankenstein's hands and holding them close. "Don't let my past weigh on your conscience. It was a choice I made for myself, you have nothing to blame yourself for."

The sincerity of Raizel's words was almost too much to bear and Frankenstein raised their joined hands to his face, hiding it from view and shuddered. No matter how much Raizel tried to reassure him, he knew what he had done. While he knew that the decision to save him was made by Raizel on his own free will – and that was important to him – and yet Frankenstein knew that if Raizel hadn't been the way he was, Frankenstein might have manipulated him into doing such a thing for him regardless of the consequences.

A being of power, like the Others, the ones that had hurt Raizel so terribly, they had destroyed Frankenstein's life. Why would it have been wrong to take advantage of one such as them? Raizel was blameless, yes; however, Frankenstein hadn't known that. He'd felt it, because Raizel's aura was far too pure, but was it something he could have really trusted? When he had all his memories, like right now, he couldn't even an ounce of affection for anyone who possessed powers that weren't human. Except Raizel.

He had wandered the earth, like a puppy that hadn't even opened its eyes, so lost and confused without his memories, without access to much of his intellect and knowledge. He had been an easy prey for the likes of the Lord and his followers. They had manipulated him into working for them, and yes, he had been so muddled, so resigned to his fate that he had agreed. If he could see them now, when he was no longer aching from the guilt of having hurt Raizel, he wouldn't be able to control himself.

Had he met Raizel when he was fully aware of himself, would he have manipulated him from the get-go?

The thought scared him. To think that his real personality was what he had been in that alley, coolly assessing Raizel's personality and exploiting it instead of the kind, gentle self he had displayed when he had first met that lonely child in an abandoned castle?

Frankenstein's knees ached from kneeling for so long and his eyes stung. Guilt clawed at his insides, peeling away layers and layers of self-assurance he had covered himself with. How could Raizel even stand to be in his presence when Frankenstein had –

Raizel wrapped an arm around Frankenstein's shoulders and pulled him up, displaying strength that shouldn't be possible, and drew him close. It wasn't a proper hug, no, but it achieved what Raizel had wanted from it, on the surface. It calmed Frankenstein down despite himself. He buried his face into Raizel's shoulder and let himself be comforted by the one he had wronged the most, eyes dry and head empty of all thought except of how close Raizel was.