DISCLAIMER: I don't own Saint Seiya character

Summary: One-shot about Milo and Camus

Setting: After "Hades"

Until Dawn

It was 8 pm. Camus as usual was reading his book on the sofa. He raised his head when sensing someone entered the common room.

"Milo?" he was a bit surprised. "You've been back from Greece?"

"Yeah, just a short visit," answered Milo. He dropped his backpack on the carpet, then approached Camus. He directly laid on the sofa and placed his head on Camus's lap.

"What happened?" asked Camus after quite long time.

Milo closed his marvelous blue eyes. "Nothing."

Camus could say that Milo didn't say the truth. There had to be something happened with him—he wasn't in his usual state. "Okay," said Camus full of understanding. He continued reading his book, but sometimes he took some glances at his best friend.

"Hmmm…," said Milo finally. "Somebody burnt my house."

Camus stopped reading. "What?"

"My home," repeated Milo. "My family's home," he added as he opened his eyes.

Camus didn't say anything. He waited Milo to say more.

"Maybe it was done by my victims' fellows or kin. You know that I'd killed several people during Saga…Ares's...reign…and I'm not surprised if their fellows put grudges on me," said Milo. "Well…I don't mind actually…nobody lives in the house. My whole family had died. But…you know, I tried to look for some remains inside it, my parents' photographs or…anything that can remind me of them. But there was nothing left," he continued, gazing on the floor. "Gone."

Camus nodded slightly. He only said, "Hmmm…"

Minutes later Camus gave a sign that he wanted to leave the common room.

"Why?" Milo asked in disappointment as he woke up.

"I have to go to my bedroom," replied Camus. He then walked away, left his best friend alone.

Milo sighed, sitting on the sofa and sank his body there. Even his best friend chose to leave and desert him. Meant than he had to do lament all by himself this night.

But he was wrong. Camus came back to the common room several minutes later. He brought another book.

"Umm…," said Camus when he had stood in front of Milo. He opened the book, took something from inside, and gave it to Milo. A photograph. "Here," he added.

Milo was startled.

Slowly he took the photo from Camus's hand. He gazed at it.

It was the photograph of his parents and him when he was still three years old. Three of them looked so happy. Little Milo was sitting in the middle, laughed together with his father and his mother. His father had same blue eyes, and his mother was so…so beautiful.

Milo raised his head, looked at Camus. He was so frozen that he couldn't say anything. How come Camus owned the picture, while he himself didn't have any photo which immortalized his parents?

"Well…," murmured Camus. "Remember years ago? You invited me to visit your home in Greece. You showed me your parents' photographs. I asked you why you didn't bring the photos with you, and you said they were much better to be attached with your home, the house which also kept the memories about your parents. I…," Camus looked unusually guilty. "I was mesmerized by one of the pictures. That picture," he pointed the photo held by Milo. "I don't know…it's so amazing seeing you as an innocent child. So I decided to take it without your awareness."

Milo gazed at Camus.

"Then slowly you realized that you'd missed one photo," Camus continued. "But you didn't mind because you still had a lot of pictures. Well…I decided to keep it. But now's the time to return it to you. Return the most precious thing I've stolen."

Silence.

Milo suddenly felt the pain in his throat. He kept gazing at his best friend, sometimes took a glance at the photograph in his hand. His heart was so touched.

Moments later he felt something hot running down his cheeks, touching his lips. Tears…

"You didn't steal anything…," said Milo with broken voice. How he blessed the day he met Camus, how he realized that Camus had been more than friend for him. He was his teacher, his brother, his father. His family…

"This…," whispered Milo as he looked at the picture. He felt other warm tears streamed down his cheeks. "This means so much to me."

"I know," Camus smiled slightly, held Milo's shoulder.

"You mean so much to me…," Milo sobbed softly when Camus pulled him slowly into his arms. Camus patted Milo's back. Why his vision suddenly got blurred now…?

"I didn't do anything, Milo," said Camus.

"You've kept it. You've kept the photograph. I almost went mad because all memories I had with my family had gone, but now…"

Milo couldn't continue.

Silence again. A heartwarming silence. Camus let his best friend sobbed quietly in his arms. He kept forcing himself to stay cold as usual, but it was very hard to do. He and Milo seemed having been unified: when one was sad the other couldn't help to feel the same, and when one was touched the other couldn't help to be touched as well. Camus had known Milo for years, and he understood that Milo was crying not only because of being touched by the photograph, but because he was so sorry for the things he had done to his victims. Because he could feel how painful it was to lose something he really loved...

He wasn't a scorpion. He was a very virtuous man…a soft-hearted being whom Camus firstly met in his childhood…a man who later on became one of the candles which destroy the glaciers in his eyes… His best friend, his brother…his family…

Milo released himself slowly after long time. He looked at Camus with tears covered his face.

"Thank you…," he said.

"You're welcome," smiled Camus.

That night they didn't sleep. Only talked to each other until dawn.

XXX

A/N: (sob…) The next one…(sob)…will be Shura-Aphrodite, Mu, and Milo-Camus again…(sob)…oooh, I really love Camus and Milo…really really love them…(sob)…please…review (sob)…