Chapter Four
The sound of the bombs awakened him instantly. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and discovering the wetness of teardrops. He had been having another dream, he realized, and not a happy one. Usually he never remembered the dreams' contents when he first woke up, but then he would after being up for a while. His dreams were always dark and disturbing, filled with death and blood. And now, as he heard a frightened wail from across the room, he recalled that this dream had involved finding his younger brother dead. He clenched his fist tightly, unable to bear the thought.
"Hey," he called softly in the darkened room, hoping that his voice wasn't shaking, "it's alright, Miruko. The bombs are a long way off from where we are." Slowly he threw the covers back and stepped down on the cold wooden floor, feeling around for the younger child's bed. The electricity on the entire street was out, unsurprisingly, and all the two brothers had for light were several candles and a weakening flashlight. But he didn't like to use the candles very much for fear of something catching on fire. And since the flashlight's batteries were on their last legs, he had decided that they should use it as little as possible.
He heard a sniffle to his left and then felt small hands grabbing at his pajamas. "They sound like they're right here," Miruko replied, tears slipping from his eyes as he clung to his older brother. "And they took Mama away. What if they take you away too? I don't wanna be alone!" He shuddered, hiccuping as the sobs continued. "Where would I go? How would I get anything to eat? Who . . . who would love me?"
Alister felt his heart shatter. He pulled Miruko close to him as he found his way back to his bed. "That doesn't sound like my brave little brother talking," he said gently, letting the child continue to tightly hug him. "Mama would want you to hope for the best, remember? Nothing will happen to me. We have to stick together. And we can't do that if the bombs get me, can we?" He swallowed a lump in his throat. Yes, their mother had always wanted them to hope for the best. But he found it so hard to do. Their entire town, their neighborhood, their lives . . . they were all in shambles. Most everyone Alister had come to know throughout the years was dead now. Even his and Miruko's mother was gone. They only had each other now.
"I was dreaming," Miruko said softly, tensing as he heard more bombs going off outside. "And Mama was still here. . . . But the people were still being mean and shooting at us! Then . . . then . . . they hurt you. . . . Just like they really did!" He couldn't bear to remember seeing Alister getting struck down. Blood had gone flying in every direction, oozing between Alister's fingers and pooling all around him when he had finally collapsed to the ground. "But . . . you didn't wake up that time. . . . In my dream, you . . . you just laid there. . . . You didn't move or get up. . . ."
Alister bit his lip, pulling Miruko closer and ruffling his hair gently. "Well . . . you've just gotta remember that it was just a dream," he said comfortingly, telling it to himself as much as to Miruko. He hated the dream he himself had been experiencing. Miruko had been laying so still on the ground, his eyes closed and blood pooling all around him. . . . Alister had tried and tried to awaken the child, but in vain. And even though he knew it was only a dream and that the proof of that was embracing him frantically for comfort, it didn't erase the aching in his heart. He was here to comfort Miruko, but who would comfort him?
He tried to tell himself that he didn't need anyone to comfort him. He was twelve, after all; he should be able to handle it himself. The tears he had been crying he shouldn't have been. He was too old to cry. He had to be the adult now. There was no one else who could be. But still, as he continued to hold Miruko close, a few tears slipped from his eyes.
It was all so much pressure on one so young, one who should still be a child himself. But he had lost his innocence when this horrible war had began several years earlier. And though Miruko still possessed childlike naivete, he was quickly learning how cruel the world could be. First their father had been taken from them, then their mother, and then he had personally witnessed Alister being shot down in cold blood. Alister knew it wouldn't be long before Miruko felt the same world-weary way that he himself did inside.
Alister stumbled down the street, his duffel bag slung over his left shoulder and Pierre held close in his good arm. Thoughts tumbled over each other in his mind, most of them grim and unpleasant to remember. Over and over the scene was replayed where he had been running with Miruko through the camp, desperate to find a safer place to hide. He had told the child to get into the tank, hoping that he would be safe there. . . . He had seen the missile coming. . . . For a split second he had been certain that he would be the one to die. . . . And he had darted out of the way, only to find that the weapon hadn't been aimed at him at all—but at the tank. His world had ended in that moment.
The demons of his heart still haunted him to this day. You killed him. You killed your brother. Seto Kaiba wasn't responsible at all or even Gozaburo. Not even Dartz. It was you! Sometimes the pain was so overwhelming that he didn't know how he would bear it. He had wanted more than once to kill himself; the self-hatred was so strong.
"Mister! Mister, what's wrong? Why are you sad?"
Alister blinked, coming back to the present. He was stunned when he realized that he was crying. He hadn't cried for so long . . . so many years. . . . But now here he was, doing it again. The whole experience with Pierre was dragging up so many emotional wounds. Once again a child was in his care and he was struggling so hard to protect him. No matter what happened, he had to make certain that Pierre was not mistreated or hurt—or worse, as the case had been with his own cherished brother. Now he wasn't sure how to answer the boy's honest, innocent question.
"I . . . I was just remembering my younger brother," he said at last, his voice strained and quiet. He ducked around a corner. There had still been no sign of those who were after them, but he didn't want to take any chances.
"Oh. . . ." Pierre thought about this. "Where is he? Could I play with him sometime?"
Alister's heart caught in his throat. "No," he replied at last, "I'm afraid not." He didn't know how long he had been walking and carrying the small boy. It seemed almost like an eon. And during all that time, they had barely passed any human life at all. The streets in this part of the city were almost completely deserted. If they hadn't been, someone surely would have seen and recognized Pierre as the missing Martindale child.
It was strange, Alister realized, his thoughts returning again to the past, but once, when he had been seriously considering ending it all, it had been Valon who had stopped him. The Australian probably didn't even realize what he had done. Alister gave a weak, wry smirk and wondered if Valon would care if he did know. It had been one simple remark, but for Alister it had changed whether he lived or died.
"I guess," Valon had remarked, leaning idly against the doorframe of Alister's room at the Orichalcos temple, "you and Raph, havin' had families and all . . . you wouldn't wanna do anything that'd make 'em disappointed in you, right?" For Valon, it had only been a random comment, perhaps said because he had never truly experienced having a family and he wondered what it was like. The brunette was unpredictable.
But it had been as if a sword had pierced through Alister's heart. The knife he had been holding to his wrist clattered to the floor, the redhead's flesh paling. No, of course he would never want to do anything that would make his family disappointed in him. And they would never want him to kill himself. His back had been turned to Valon as he had sat on his bed and he had never told the Australian what he had actually been going to do with that knife, having allowed him to think that he had just been holding it and then dropped it out of the blue after being startled. Idly he wondered if he would tell Valon the truth if he saw him again.
Again snapping back to the present as Pierre yawned and snuggled against him, Alister smiled softly. "We'd better keep going," he remarked. "It's still a long way to your home—or to any taxi cabs." Pierre murmured a sleepy agreement.
Raphael growled as they passed down another street with no luck. After giving their reports to the police and going back to the limousine, he and Hilda had gotten in the front and he had opted to drive to make certain that they went where he wanted them to. But he was getting exasperated—and more worried. If Alister hadn't been captured and killed already by perhaps some other members of the gang, he might be wandering through the city with that child, perhaps wounded. He needed to be found!
Hilda's voice cut through the silence. "Do you really think the kid with your friend could be Paulette's son?" she asked hesitantly. Only at the police station had they learned of the abduction of Pierre Martindale and Hilda had been stunned and aghast. Surely, the police decided, it must have been Pierre that the criminals had been after. Officers were combing the city, trying to find both him and Alister, once Raphael gave them the redhead's description, but there had been no success on anyone's part.
"Yes," Raphael growled, turning down another street, "it all fits. I don't think there'd be two missing rich kids from the same city at the same time. It has to be your friend's son." Upon finding the street empty he mentally yelled in frustration. Alister had to be somewhere! Raphael forced all images of him laying dead out of his mind. No, he refused to believe that!
Hilda fell silent again, pondering on what she wanted to say now. "Is Pierre safe with this . . . person?"
Raphael's eyes narrowed darkly. "He's safer with him than he would be with most other people," he retorted. "Alister would die before letting harm come to a child, if he could at all prevent it."
"Maybe he is dead, then," Hilda remarked morbidly, "and Pierre is wandering off by himself somewhere in town!" She crossed her arms, glaring out the window. It seemed a fruitless search. She wanted to go back to Paulette's and see if there had been any word yet or even if Pierre had been found and returned safely.
Raphael gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "I can do without your kind of encouragement," he hissed. He already feared that Alister was dead. The last thing he needed was for Hilda to fuel those thoughts.
Hilda shrugged. "I'm just being logical," she replied. "It could have happened. And what kind of name is 'Alister,' anyway?" It sounded strange to her, as she had never heard the name before.
"It suits him," Raphael retorted through gritted teeth. "It's the Scottish form of Alexander. Basically it means 'defender of mankind.'" He drove past a small park, scanning it carefully to see if possibly he could see a familiar trenchcoat-clad redhead wandering among the trees.
"Didn't Alexander conquer the world instead of defending it?" Hilda argued.
Raphael slammed his hand hard on the steering wheel, barely missing the horn.
"Okay, okay, nevermind," Hilda sighed, leaning back in the seat.
Raphael's thoughts began to wander again. Alister truly was brave and noble, deserving of the meaning of his name. Raphael had meant everything he had said about him. If Alister was dead, it would be because he had done what he thought was right. That was how he had always lived. It was why he and the other two had stayed with Doom—believing it was the right thing. It was why they had eventually all been claimed by the Orichalcos. And it was why they had later fought against Dartz with all their hearts.
It was much later that night when the duo pulled up in front of Paulette's mansion. Having had no success, Raphael at last had agreed to go there in case Alister could have arrived with Pierre. But the only one who was there to greet them when the butler opened the door was a long-haired cat who immediately went over to the two guests.
Hilda frowned. "Oh, stay away from me!" she scolded the feline. "You'll get hairs on my dress."
Raphael gave her a look before curiously watching the cat as it rubbed against him, then gazed up and meowed. He reached down, picking the animal up and petting it. The furry body went limp in his arms, purring loudly.
"It's a Ragdoll," Hilda told him. "They think everyone's a friend and like being held. This one is Paulette's. Pierre likes her the best, though. Paulette wanted to get rid of it because it's not completely pure-blood and pedigree, but she keeps it around for Pierre." She crossed her arms, remembering countless times of finding him playing with kittens when they had been children. "You still like cats, I see."
Raphael grunted, continuing to stroke the feline. Yes, he liked cats. They were quiet and aloof and sensible, as he was. When he was a child he had always been bringing cats home to adopt, much to his mother's dismay and his father's amusement. And cats seemed to like him as well, sensing that he was a gentle person despite his tough appearance. This one was especially friendly.
"I never understood the attraction," Hilda shrugged, heading off to look for Paulette. Raphael was left to ponder over his own thoughts.
He kicked the wall in frustration. Whether he was willing to admit it or not, he was getting tired of arguing with Alister. And it was usually over the most absurd things. Tonight they had quarreled right in front of Dartz, just because Alister had mentioned that he knew why Valon was targeting Joey Wheeler and Valon had demanded to know why Alister was so interested in targeting Seto Kaiba. Raphael had yelled at them to knock it off, and they had, but once they had left the room, it had started all over again.
"I'm getting tired of playing referee."
He looked up at the sound of Raphael's voice. The tall blonde was standing nearby, watching him with crossed arms.
Valon had a simple solution. "Then don't," he replied in irritation. He wasn't in the mood for this. And Mai had gone off to duel Pegasus without waiting for any of them to come along. Valon had wanted to watch her in action.
Raphael rolled his eyes. "The two of you were making fools of yourselves in front of Master Dartz," he reprimanded. He couldn't understand why Alister and Valon couldn't at least make an effort to get along. Every time they were together, they were arguing within a matter of minutes. It was amazing, Raphael thought dryly, how they could turn any subject into an argument. They must truly hate each other.
"Well," Valon retorted, "if Alister would just mind his own business, maybe it wouldn't have happened!" He crossed his own arms in defiance. "What's it matter why I'm targeting Wheeler!"
Raphael grunted. "You can't put all the blame on Alister," he said flatly. "It takes two to tango, Valon." He turned to walk away. "If you have to fight, do it where no one else has to listen. It's getting tiresome."
Valon glared after him. "Well, maybe if he was more like you, it wouldn't happen!" he announced. Raphael was more tolerant and not as criticizing. At least in Valon's mind, Alister was extremely critical. But he never stopped to consider that maybe Alister cared and that his "criticisms" were really disapproval of his actions because he didn't want Valon to be hurt.
Actually, Alister himself wasn't sure of that. Valon just annoyed him extremely at times until he couldn't keep silent any longer. But perhaps his annoyance stemmed from not only the fact that Valon was his complete opposite, but because he didn't want someone he cared about to do things that could have a bad result for them.
Raphael paused at this statement and looked back. "If he was like me, he wouldn't be like himself. And you'd get tired of it after a while," he replied before walking on.
Valon had opted to take a long walk, but it wasn't calming his nerves any. If anything, it was making him more nervous and frustrated. What was going through his mind right now was the strange conversation he and Raphael had had after the time Valon and Alister had argued in front of Dartz. It had been only one of many such conversations. Raphael had always been irritated by the constant arguing between the two.
And maybe even stranger than their talk had been the aftermath of that, Valon thought wryly. He had gone out riding his motorcycle late that night, still irritated and angry, and had wound up wrecking. When he had came to, Alister had been kneeling beside him, trying to see how badly he was hurt. Valon smirked slightly, recalling asking Alister why he was trying to help. The redhead hadn't answered at first, but then had only said—in a very flat tone—that he wasn't the type to cruelly leave an associate to suffer. He had found Valon tangled up with his motorcycle and had stopped to see if he was badly hurt—or even alive. When Valon found that he couldn't walk without being pained, and that he was too dizzy to drive, Alister had taken him home on his own motorcycle.
The whole experience had always confused Valon. He had always thought that Alister truly cared nothing for him at all, associate or not. But the cold-hearted redhead had seemed to prove otherwise. There had been no ulterior motives in mind. Valon had often pondered over what had happened that night, though so many other things had been going on at that time that he hadn't really had the chance to talk with Alister about it. When they had conversed after both being captured by the Orichalcos, they had only briefly touched on the subject because at that moment Mai had joined their ranks and Valon had immediately ran over to talk to her.
Valon frowned. Mai was another person he wanted to find. But she probably didn't want to be found. He knew that she had never really liked any of the three of them that much. And if she had really wanted to be with Valon, she would have stayed and waited at the beachhouse until he had regained consciousness. But she had left, though she had given Valon a Duel Monsters card of hers.
He sighed, ignoring the soft rain as it began to fall. When he became fully aware of his surroundings, he found that he'd walked all the way back to the trailer park. No one seemed to be around at all, which confused him a bit. As far as he'd known, only he and Michael had gone to the hospital with Sandy. The others should be here. Their motorcycles were still parked by the various trailers.
Slowly, without even thinking about it, he walked over to Sandy's trailer and opened the door. As he stepped inside, turning on the light, he surveyed the room where they had shared so many conversations and fun times. There was the manga she had let him borrow last week. Sandy enjoyed many of the same kinds of mangas and animes that Valon himself did—those filled with action, adventure, and fighting. Though she did like a couple of the more "shoujo" series as well, she didn't really seem to be an idealistic romantic. She was quite similar to Valon himself in many ways. That was probably why they had gotten along so well.
Valon smirked wryly. He had never been able to interest Alister or Raphael in anime or manga—or computer games, which was another of his vices. They were both much more serious than Valon himself and usually had busied themselves with other activities, ones that they felt were more useful.
Once Valon had attempted to show Alister one of his more serious mangas, but Alister had become upset over the storyline—which had involved a war and images of children dying. He had tried not to show that he was visibly distressed, but Valon had seen it in his eyes. Later, when he had told Raphael about the incident and Raphael had explained to him briefly about Alister's childhood and his brother, Valon had understood and had felt guilty.
He had also felt a bit irritated as well. Why hadn't Alister ever talked to him about any of that? he had wondered. Raphael had said that Alister hadn't even told him for a long time, but that hadn't quelled Valon's annoyance. It wasn't as if Alister couldn't talk to him as well. But then he supposed that Alister just didn't trust him as much as he trusted Raphael. They were too different.
As Valon lifted up the manga to look at it more closely, a piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor. With a blink he bent down to retrieve it. But when he opened it and read the contents, a new wash of guilty and confused feelings swept over him.
"Valon brought this manga back today. He said he really liked it. We have so much in common. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that we're not supposed to be together. But I know it's not to be. Valon has someone else. I can see it in his eyes. And, well, I know I'm really taken as well. Michael will never let me go. He's so jealous. . . . If I ever tried to go with Valon, I'd actually be worried for him. Michael would never leave us alone. I'm afraid I don't doubt that he could be capable of something terrible if his temper got out of control. And I don't want Valon to get hurt.
They say if you love something, to set it free. I guess I must really love him then . . . because what I want most is for him to be happy. And I know he won't be until he finds the friends he keeps talking about. Maybe he doesn't realize it, but he's always talking about them. It's so sad, sometimes he dreams about them not really wanting him and beating him. But they must want him back! I can't believe for one minute that they don't care about him. From everything Valon's told me about them, they both sound like they're really good guys at heart, even if they have some rough edges."
It ended there, abruptly, as if she had been interrupted in her writing and had hastily stuck the paper within the pages of the manga. Valon sank into the couch cushions, still holding the paper and staring blankly at the words Sandy had handwritten. The rain beat down against the outside of the trailer, and the door flapped back and forth in the wind, but the Australian paid no heed to any of that.
Raphael was sitting alone on the couch, waiting for Hilda to come back and petting the cat, who didn't seem to have a desire to leave him alone. His thoughts were wandering to many things, including his long years of isolation spent on the island, his disgusted views of humanity upon his return, and various incidents from the time spent with Doom. He, also, remembered the time when Alister had found Valon laying hurt after crashing on his motorcycle. What Alister had never told anyone, however—and what Raphael suspected—was that he had gone out in the first place to find Valon because he had been gone so long.
When Raphael had talked to Alister about it later, the redhead hadn't denied it when the question was posed as to whether he actually had been concerned about Valon, though he hadn't confirmed it either. But, Raphael supposed, that was as close to saying it was so as Alister would admit. He had the feeling that Alister was afraid to be close to people. Even though he was closer to Raphael than he was to Valon, he still only rarely had talked with him.He was aloof and silent, though Raphael had determined that there was a lot of pain behind the mask.
He remembered how lonely he had often been on the island. The first night he had been there, he had been very uneasy, certain that he heard sounds of wild animals prowling about. Eventually he had climbed a tree and struggled to sleep, though it had been almost impossible. That had been when the spirits of the guardian cards had first appeared to him. They had comforted and protected him, easing him into a gentle slumber. After several nights of this, he had finally been able to relax and know that he wasn't alone. Things had been easier after that.
An abrupt and almost incessant ringing of the doorbell brought him back into the present. The butler soon came, muttering various annoyed things, and hauled the door open. In the next instant he gave an exclamation of stunned shock and Raphael immediately looked up and stood, coming to attention when he heard a child's voice.
"Please, Mr. James," the child said, addressing the butler as he was taken into the man's arms, "you've gotta help my friend now! He's all hurt and he was trying so hard to get me here! The mean men shot him! Then his leg got hurt somehow and he can't really walk!" Tears filled the bright eyes, their owner remembering when his rescuer had stumbled and fallen after they had been wandering around for hours. At first he hadn't even been able to get up, but then at last he had managed it and they had resumed their journey.
Then Raphael rushed over, catching the weary form that could stand no longer. He recognized the flipped magenta tresses, the gray eyes—glassy and full of weariness at the moment—and the clothes. "Alister," he muttered softly, almost in disbelief. He had realized that surely the one with the abducted child must be Alister, but that wasn't the same thing as seeing him actually here. He hadn't seen him since they had been returned to their bodies. Now he knew that Alister was alive. And he had been reunited with his friend at last.
As the skinny man's strength gave out, he gave Raphael a look mixed with recognition and disbelief. Pierre was home now. He had gotten him here safely. And he had found one of his friends, somehow. Or maybe it was a delusion brought on by the dizziness and vertigo. At that moment it didn't matter. Alister felt that he could finally surrender to the darkness.