Disclaimer: No owning of Galerians is done by me. Ahahaha.
A/N: I know that there aren't that many differences between Galerians: Rion and the game, but I'm going to have to say that this follows the game more closely. There's going to be lots of yaoi ahead (yay!), but this chapter only contains minimal amounts and hints. A little bit of Cain and Rion, and then there's some Ash/Rion kissing going on. I figure that technically Cain and Rion aren't brothers, because they were created artificially. One other note – I'm so glad there's finally a Galerians section!
Chapter One – Jumbled
"Rion..."
Something coarse, scratchy ground into his skin – face, arm, hip – made him itch. It was fabric, brown and worn. He was on...a couch? His eyes traveled up from a spot of stuffing leaking out of the sofa to a window...
He was sinking in bewilderment. There was a boy sitting on the ledge of the window with his knees drawn up to his chest. Blonde hair, and he looked so much like...himself...
A memory?
Possibly, because Lilia was walking up to him. The boy in the window, at least, the one that looked like him. But then he thought maybe it wasn't a memory after all, because he didn't remember this. Lilia had never worn that knit winter cap – and in such searing heat. It was unbelievably stuffy, humid. The oppressive warmth descended into his body.
The boy turned his head to look at Lilia. Green eyes. Cain.
Rion stopped breathing.
Finally, he managed a gasp, pulling oxygen into his lungs, and the memories, the ones he wanted to keep always but shouldn't be popping up now, began flashing under his eyelids. He groped for something, anything, a name – "Ash" – but all that he got was a mouthful of air.
They noticed. Heard, maybe. Confusion and – couldn't let anyone see – fear paralyzed him, gripped his body. Hands were shaking him? Or he was shaking on his own.
Get away, get away, get away –
"Rion? It's me, Lilia..."
"Hey... Hey, it's okay..."
A growing weakness overwhelmed his body. Everything faded.
/-/
The ceiling.
He blinked, allowing his vision to refocus. And remembered. The couch, the window...
"You awake?"
...Cain.
But his muscles wouldn't respond to him. He wanted to struggle, wanted to fight this... "Lilia –!" he choked out.
"She's sleeping," Cain informed him calmly, kneeling beside the couch so that they were eye level. "You can't keep panicking, y'know, or you'll just pass out again. That's why we had to give you sedatives –"
"What...?" Not good.
And this wasn't the Cain he remembered at all... The last time they had seen each other, Cain had been jealous, vengeful, angry. Now he was quite composed. Last time, he had been wearing an odd jumble of leather, though it didn't seem to cover very much. Now he was wearing a blue shirt and jeans, both of which were very loose-fitting, and sneakers. Last time, Cain had been dead. Yet here he was, clearly alive.
"Well, you've been out for a week..." He rocked backwards on his heels but lost his balance, falling in a rather ungraceful manner. "Uh... Want some water?"
Rion had hardly noticed in the fog of questions he had, but his throat did feel like it was lined with sawdust. "Sure..."
Cain flung himself up, straightened his messy hair (and didn't make much progress with it, as it was naturally that way), and walked off behind Rion's head, where he could only guess the kitchen was.
As he waited, he could only wonder... He didn't know where Ash was. He didn't know where he was. It seemed to be an apartment, but the idea of Cain living normally without Dorothy was a strange thought.
There was a rummaging sound and that of running water. In a moment, Cain was back with a chipped glass. "Here. You can't drink on your own, so..." Cain slipped a hand behind his head and brought the glass to his lips.
Despite the persistent wishes for it not to, his face began to burn. Their eyes locked, and the color of Cain's eyes hit him as hard as the water splashing down his parched throat. Both were cool, refreshing, and it was if he was drowning willingly –
"Rion? The water's gone..." Cain raised an eyebrow, amusement clearly written in the turn of his mouth.
Rion glanced away. Even when Lilia had seen him naked, he hadn't gotten embarrassed. Perhaps it was because he was too excited to have a body at the time, or maybe it was because she was Lilia, after all. And when Ash had kissed him – his tongue darted out to lick his lips – he had been too shocked to be embarrassed. The last kiss had been entirely of his own choice, however. He hadn't had to kiss him to transfer the virus.
What a great time to be thinking about my sexuality. He frowned and sighed.
"You have questions, right?" Cain set the glass beside the couch and drew his knees up to his chest, a mimicry of the position Rion had earlier witnessed.
"How..." He focused on the ceiling again. "How are you still alive?"
"How are you?" Cain responded simply. "We'll never die. They'll never let us..."
This didn't even fully answer one question, instead opening up too many doors to others. For starters... "Who's 'they'?"
"Mothe – Dorothy. She thought we could be of help to her with Ash." He let out a short, bitter laugh. "How wrong she was. By then, we had all discovered how she was just an insane bitch trying to use us. Christ, I hate her." Cain paused, and Rion could hear him swallow. "It was something that took me too long to figure out. Rita and Rainheart knew... Fuck, I don't know why it took me so long."
"What about Birdman?" The question was out as soon as he thought it. There were just so many swimming around in his head...
"...Birdman? He's..."
Rion turned his head away from Cain, figuring he had mistakenly hit a sore spot and not wanting to keep watching Cain's expression grow visibly more pained.
"Ah..." Cain closed his eyes, shaking his head. "He's a bastard."
"Oh."
"I...never want to see him again."
The awkward silence stretched out between them.
"Heh. Sorry..." Cain scratched the back of his head, almost looking apologetic. "Once the drugs wear off, I can take you to see Lilia, if she's awake by then."
Sorry for what he's said or for giving me drugs? It was possible that he would never know. Anyone could see that a heavy hardship was weighing on him, but Rion knew well enough not to ask.
But there was something else... That voice. It had been there when he first woke up. His voice... Ash...
"Where is Ash?" His tone was firm enough to surprise even himself. He was determined not to show any signs of weakness. He wouldn't. Not so much because of Cain or anyone else, but because if he gave in, he would feel like he was dying again.
"Didn't you defeat him? After your body was found, you were revived and recovered from data." At Rion's questioning gaze, he added, "At least that's what Lilia tells me. Guess it was easier the second time around."
"How is she?" Even as he asked the question, he knew. Dug his fingernails into his palms and clenched his eyes shut, but he could only hope against the facts. He knew.
"She's...very sick." He wouldn't look at Rion.
"I know."
"You asked." Cain abruptly hopped up from his position on the floor. "She sleeps a lot, but I'm sure...she'll wake up soon, so just rest a little while?" Without waiting for an answer, he left in the direction he had gone for Rion's water.
Rion lay there silently, listening to his own breathing and the thudding of his heart in his chest. There could be an infinite number of beats for all he knew. He was sure he would never be allowed the release of death.
It was then he realized how tired he was. Tired of losing hopes and people. Lilia. Ash. And his body was also tired. Sleep probably wasn't a bad idea, but he couldn't go to sleep without hearing her voice echo inside his head.
Lilia...
In his heart, he hadn't yet accepted the inevitability of her death. He recognized that he never would. She was the girl who had saved him, the one who would love him always – though he was sometimes conflicted as to whether it was he she really loved or a boy who died long ago. Even as a shadow, an imitation, he couldn't let her life slip away. She deserved better. He felt sick and heavy with blame, fighting off the "if only"s.
A hideous funeral march fluttered into his brain, promising nightmares. He wasn't strong enough to resist the lull of sleep.
/-/
"Rion... Rion, wake up..."
Ugh...
He was drenched in sweat. It matted his hair to his forehead, caused his clothes to cling to his body. Through window above a small TV set, Rion could see the sun setting.
"Why is it so hot?" Rion mumbled tiredly, cracking open an eye to see Cain peering down at him.
"It's summer." Though he didn't exactly look unaffected by the heat, either, as his flushed face indicated. "It usually rains all the time here, but not today. And these apartments have no cooling system."
Rion groaned.
Cain smirked. "But hey, I'm gonna get some bread and milk, so c'mon. I don't want to go alone." He offered a hand, and Rion accepted, against his better judgment.
And promptly collapsed right into Cain's arms.
"Not too steady yet?" Cain asked into his ear, and his lips were close enough to brush skin.
Rion nodded in an almost drunken way, falling back onto the couch. "What?" he muttered, because Cain was staring, and damn if his face wasn't doing that heating-up thing in front of him again.
"You can't wear that." Cain pointed to the clothing in question.
Funny he had never noticed before, but his clothes were burned and torn, and the zipper on his shirt was busted. The majority of it was probably from later battles, and the broken zipper was likely from his encounter with Romero, because he had fought Ash as data.
"There are a lot of perverts around here," Cain notified him laughingly.
Taken aback, Rion could only gape at him. As if having people talk to his navel during conversations wasn't bad enough... Hey, he hadn't picked out the shirt in the first place.
"Here, I'll get you something else..." Cain motioned for Rion to follow him.
The kitchen was plain, simple, and devoid of almost anything but the usual things like a refrigerator and table. Well, there was one thing that stood out...
Rita?!
She didn't look a day older. However, the first thing that drew his attention was that she was passed out with a bottle of vodka near her head. That, and she was barely wearing anything.
Cain sighed. "She's always doing that," he muttered angrily. "Damnit... I thought I got rid of all the vodka, too. Guess not."
Rion followed Cain down the short hallway to the left, which had two doors at the end of it.
"This is the bedroom," Cain indicated, pointing to the right. "That's the bathroom."
Cain turned the knob, and Rion suddenly found himself in a crowded bedroom. Twisted in the sheets of a double-sized bed, a denim-covered leg poking out, was a loudly snoring Rainheart. An enormous rope of drool was sticking from his bottom lip to his green sweatshirt.
Cain rolled his eyes and crouched down, apparently searching for something underneath the bed. Though watching this proved to be entertaining (Cain was having difficulties, making little noises of impatience, as his back-end moved in a variety of interesting ways), Rion's attention was caught by the bunk bed. Someone was nestled in the top bunk...
Lilia.
He walked over to the bed, as if in a trance, and stepped on his tiptoes to peer over the top bunk. She... She was so pale... His fingertips almost reached out for her face, but then he remembered that he didn't want to wake her. He studied her, took note of the blankets drawn up to her chin, the weary expression etched into her face, even in sleep.
"Rion?" Cain had come up behind him, and he hadn't even noticed. "Here're some clothes."
"Thank you."
Cain only smiled sadly.
/-/
It was a small bathroom, and the bare necessities – a toilet, sink, and shower – had hardly any space between them. Rion was visibly reminded of the bathrooms in Babylon Hotel. Everything had at least some rust on it, and an aura of filth encased it all. There was even a note in a corner of the smudged mirror above the sink.
Put down the damn toilet seat and wash your hands.
- Rita
Rion couldn't help but smirk at this. He had a mental image of Rita, whip in hand, snappishly ordering Birdman, Cain, and Rainheart around while they meekly kept their heads lowered. After the thought of the whip graced his mind, he wondered when he had become such a pervert. Then he suddenly wondered where Birdman was –
A ballerina in a black dress, hanging from a bathroom ceiling...
He shivered, almost dropped the bundle of clothing, and then found himself clutching it tightly to his chest. This bathroom looked too much like the ones of Babylon Hotel. It was just a horrible flashback.
Rion examined the clothing in his arms. It was just a plain black T-shirt and a pair of blue cargo pants. It wasn't something that would stand out, but then again, Rion didn't want to stand out. The less he was noticed, the better, as far as he was concerned.
And now...he would leave to help get groceries. Still, he had a feeling that things could get even stranger.
/-/
"But why do we have to r –"
He was cut short as Cain's hand wrapped around his wrist and dragged him along. Rion knew he could have kept up easier had he not needed time to still recover. It was the last coherent thought he had before adrenaline took over completely.
The thudding of boots hitting the ground was getting closer and quicker, just like Rion's breath and the slamming of his heart beneath his ribs.
A garbage can unexpectedly evaporated in his field of vision. Cain lashed his arm out, knocking it over, but didn't stop running. Rion heard the man grunt and stumble over the can directly behind him. It only made him move his feet faster. Truthfully, his lungs were burning, and his body was bogged down by exhaustion.
"Here!" Cain directed under his breath, and they turned down an alley and nearly fell into another.
Rion leaned gratefully against a wall. The brick was cool against the back of his sweaty neck and arms. He slid down a little bit, ready to collapse, but Cain held him firmly by the shoulder. The man ran past, oblivious to their actual location, and then he released him. They both sank to the ground, flushed and panting.
"Why couldn't we have just attacked him?" asked Rion, who, now that he had almost entirely regained his breath, was slightly confused. The adrenaline had evaporated, leaving only puzzlement.
"You have no PPECs left in your system," Cain explained. "And killing is too messy and would draw too much attention."
There was an extended silence in which Rion picked at the sole of one of his boots.
Not used to running...instead of fighting.
He also wondered why the guy was chasing after them. Insanity or... Rion had seen those looks before. The looks someone is given before they are usually seized as prey.
Ash. Nitro. Others. Lust.
He bit his lip. It was different with Ash... Wasn't it?
Speaking of looks...what was with the one Cain was giving him?
Rion raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Heh, I was just thinking..." Cain looked away. "...that you've really grown."
A moment of silence, and then Rion replied, "Yeah, so have you, I guess."
/-/
By the time they returned, it was dark. An eerie silence filled the apartment.
"Is everyone sleeping?" It seemed more like Rion was talking to the blackness or the shadows or even no one in particular, but Cain answered, which is what he had been aiming for, anyway.
"Rainheart always sleeps for awhile. Rita's out...y'know."
He didn't. But he didn't ask, either, as they made their way to the table in the shadowy kitchen. Rion set the bread down and waited as Cain swung the milk into the refrigerator.
"She's out...getting money the easy way." He exhaled and sat down on a chair. "The idiot. I thought she was too smart for that."
Rion was surprised, to put it mildly. For one, he had thought Rita had too much pride for something like that, especially putting herself to the service of humans – and in such a degrading way.
"Do you work anywhere?" Rion unexpectedly asked, hoping to break the awkward quiet.
"I bus tables at a shithole of a restaurant nearby..." Cain murmured. He obviously had his mind on other things. "Mmmf. Hungry still."
Well, Rion hadn't quite thought it was food.
Cain turned and stuck his head in the fridge again. "You can use the shower if you want," he offered.
He probably needed one, as he wasn't even aware of that last time he had showered. "Thanks."
/-/
It had taken Rion a tiny bit of time to figure out how to work the rusty taps, but it was definitely worth it. Ever since he could remember – well, they were Rion's memories, but he felt the same now, he was sure – he had loved long, hot showers.
Taking up all the hot water wouldn't be the best way to start things off, though. The water bill...
Letting his eyelids slide shut, he sucked in air and focused on the feel of the water beating against his skin and coursing down his body. The plinking of waterdrops in the tub soothed him. He had always liked rain. Trailing his fingers down his chest, he paused. He still had wounds from recent battles and he could match all of them with the people who had given them to him. A slash on his shoulder from Parano, a cut on his collarbone from Nitro, nothing from Spider, because he hadn't been that dangerous. However, he healed quickly, likely because of being a Galerian. At the time, he had barely felt any of the pain, because the adrenaline coursing through his veins blocked it out. All he could think about was his own survival. That's all he had ever wanted really, and he had never enjoyed killing, except for...Dorothy and Romero... Even thinking the man's name sent a fresh surge of anger through him. There was a mark from him, too, underneath his ribcage. Touching it, even lightly, stung. Biting his lip, he realized that there were...no marks from...
Ash...
Why did it have to be this way? Standing there, alone, he felt as if his very existence was cursed.
A funny choked up feeling worked its way into his throat, and his eyes began to water. Rion could always pass it off as water from the showerhead.
But he knew the truth.
/-/
The first thing that Rion thought was that the playground had an unnatural air to it. It was unlike any playground he had ever been in.
The second was that he must be dreaming, because he last remembered falling asleep on the couch in the living room.
The oppressing fog left a thick, heavy weight on his body, clinging to his clothes and making it difficult to see. He could make out the faint outline of a swing set, though. Despite his initial uneasiness, he nearly smiled at the memory of he and Lilia swinging... It had been one of there favorite things to do as children. Even if it hadn't really been him, this thought was comforting.
He sat down on a swing and let his boots settle into the gravel. There seemed to be no purpose to being here –
"Rion."
He started at the voice, so familiar, to his right. Without so much as a noise, this person was immediately there...
"Ash?!" He knew he was gaping, but did it matter at this point? Ash was here, right beside him, definitely not lost forever... "Is...it really you?"
Ash smirked in his usual "Look, I'm composed and self-assured" manner. "Am I so easily impersonated?"
"No... Ah, well..." Oh, he didn't quite know what to say in a situation like this. "This is only a dream, isn't it...?"
"I can contact you in your dreams. As far as I know, this isn't an unusual occurrence."
"I've never thought of it before..." He trailed off, examining his hands and avoiding Ash's eyes.
"You have something on your mind," Ash observed.
Rion blinked in surprise. "Can you...actually read my mind?"
"No. You are occasionally very obvious."
Rion blew out air in an almost-laugh. "It's just... I guess I was unconscious, but I had this dream that we both died ten years from now." He shifted his legs, unsure. "Together."
"I was wondering if that would be a mistake..." Ash pondered aloud. "I sent you images of the possible future – what could have been, but you left just as you should have."
"Are you angry?" he questioned tentatively.
Ash gave a small laugh. "I should be, shouldn't I? Even you expect it. How very selfish... How very human of me, to want to keep you."
Keep me? Rion felt a little shiver go up his spine. And the way Ash was gazing at him certainly wasn't helping. "When did the dream begin?" When did these feelings begin? Hopefully by asking that, he could guide his thoughts away from the subject of Ash and that.
"Some time after you kissed me, I believe, was where reality ended."
So much for taking his mind off it. He could feel his face heating up.
"That wasn't necessary to transfer the virus, Rion," Ash informed him, chuckling slightly.
"I...know."
He turned away, sure that his face was by now crimson, and rocked gently on the swing.
"What are you doing?"
"Swinging." His embarrassment was momentarily forgotten when he caught the puzzled look Ash sent his way. "Oh... You've never done it."
"Do you mean that these objects actually have a purpose? They're not some kind of unusual chair?" At Rion's amused nod, he attempted this.
Unsuccessfully.
Maybe it was that Ash didn't balance himself correctly – Rion wasn't sure and could only guess – but it sent him sprawling onto the gravel headfirst with a loud smack.
"Ash?" It took all of his willpower not to snort. He had never seen Ash look so...undignified. "Do you need any help?" He jumped off the swing and bent over Ash, offering his hand.
Ash's response to this was to furrow his brows. "You find this funny."
"Definitely." There was no hiding is smile now.
His hand clasped around Ash's, and he prepared to pull him. Instead, he was tugged down and stumbled, flying on top of him.
"Sorry..." Things couldn't possibly get more awkward than this. He instantly reacted, starting to pull himself up. Not that he wanted to. Ash's body was hard and solid against his own, and it suddenly struck Rion that their bodies had never been this close.
"Rion."
A hand grasped his forearm. He couldn't move.
He wouldn't move.
"Ash...?"
Slowly, temptingly, Ash slipped a hand onto the back of his neck and gently brought his head down so that his lips were grazing Rion's throat.
Rion stilled, even forgetting about breathing for a moment, and concentrated on the hot breath beating on his skin, the mouth on his neck... Teeth delicately nipped at his pulse, and he couldn't help it – a breathless gasp tore out of his throat.
Is this... Is this really happening?
"She's calling you," Ash calmly remarked. "Hm. Your heartbeat is quite rapid at this time." His hand pressed up against Rion's chest.
"Who?" Rion forced out, more than a little distracted.
"Lilia, of course," Ash replied, like it was absolutely obvious.
What? "Lilia?"
"Rion, are you awake?"
His eyes widened. It was pitch black all around him, Ash was gone, and...that was Lilia's voice, unless he was mistaken.
"Lilia?" he tried.
Then he remembered... He had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, so that... It was all a dream?
What the hell is wrong with me?
"Are you okay?" Her quiet voice cut through the darkness.
"Lilia... I... I'm so relieved." His voice was breaking, just as he was.
Though he couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling. "So am I... We had to revive you, and then you were unconscious..."
Her weight pressed closer to him, and he reached out blindly to touch her. It would be further proof that she was alive and mercifully safe, for now, at least.
"I'm so sorry, Lilia... He – He took you, and I should've protect –"
"No, don't say that!" she whispered fiercely, and he realized that there were some parts of her that would always remain the same. "I won't let you take the blame for this..." The girl who loved him, regardless.
"Lilia –" He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tightly, wishing that he could just make the suffering stop.
"I'm dying," she murmured, voice muffled in his shirt. "I know I'm dying, Rion – No one can help me, and...it isn't fair for you have to watch me die –" Her voice cracked, and fresh tears soaked through Rion's shirt to wet his skin.
"Lilia." He coursed fingers through her hair, traced patterns on her back, listened to how hoarse his own voice was. "I can for you."
Without words, Lilia only clenched her fists in his shirt and sobbed silently.
I'll never lose you. Not completely.