The phone's demanding rings cut off as Alfred unplugged all of its wires with one tug. His mobile had been switched off hours ago, and he hadn't even bothered going online to check his emails. A feeling of isolation was beginning to creep in on him.

It was a good twelve hours after Alfred had left before Francis started calling him. Francis, and apparently everyone else that the Frenchman knew. Some of the text messages sounded faintly confused as they informed him of Francis' desperation to reach him, as if he didn't already know. Arthur had remained silent throughout all the attempts of Alfred's family and friends to contact him, green eyes speaking volumes. He expected it to only be a matter of time before Alfred gave him up now the novelty of an angel had worn off. They didn't speak as Alfred went about cutting themselves off from the rest of the world, but Arthur's surprise and relief was tangible.

The angel was sitting outside now, on the intact fire escape. Wings carefully concealed beneath the blanket from Alfred's bed, the angel watched the sky with a strangely entranced expression. They'd gotten back in the early hours of the morning, Alfred having directed Arthur up the outside stairs while he went through the inside. It was now midday, the angel having sat outside in the cold wintry air since the sky was still black, seemingly with every intention of watching the icy, empty blue sky until it was once again dark and dotted with stars.

Pushing himself up off his knees Alfred dropped the phone cord and moved to the open sliding doors, hesitating as he debated whether or not to go out. Arthur turned his head slightly to face Alfred, who recognised the consent in his gaze and grinned as he walked onto the metal floor and sat down.

"How you holding up?" he asked leaning back on his hands and tilting his face up to the sky.

Arthur turned to look at him, pausing before he responded. "Better. And yourself?"

"Having fun, actually. Feel like I'm in a movie, it's awesome."

Snorting, the angel shook his head. "You've got to be joking."

"Well, I am a bit. But whatever."

When Arthur didn't reply Alfred fell silent, rubbing his hands together absently as he looked down from the sky and at his neighbour's roofs.

"Why are you doing this? Throwing your whole life out of balance?"

Arthur's voice was tentative. Alfred looked over at him and saw that the angel hand brought his knees up to his chest and was hugging them tightly, looking at his own interlocked hands. Alfred shifted onto his knees to crawl round to be face to face with him.

"Because I think you're worth protecting," he said seriously.

Arthur looked at him over his knees, eyes so honestly sad and sceptical of this vouch for his own value that Alfred felt something inside him, at his core, twist in pained compassion.

"Because you don't deserve what Francis' did to you," he pressed earnestly, moving closer. "Because the idea of you staying in a cage is painful. Because I think that you must have been brave and determined to do what you did, even if it didn't turn out like it should have, and really passionate. Because you're incredible."

Arthur's eyes smiled faintly and Alfred felt warm despite the chill in the air, the coldness of the metal below his knees seeping through his jeans.

"I wish I'd found you," the angel whispered. Alfred blinked, still beneath Arthur's gaze and the tone of his voice. "I wish I'd found you first. I'm sorry."

Understanding nearly sent something inside Alfred dropping out of him and sinking into the ground, never to be returned; Arthur didn't think he'd be able to heal, or move on, ever be good enough.

"That's okay," he said, smiling and with a thrill he recognised the warmth Arthur could give him with a smile reflected in the angel's eyes as he drank in Alfred's grin. "Because I've found you. And I can wait."

Relief and guilt swirled in Arthur's eyes. "Thank you."

The second morning, Arthur woke up first.

The day they'd arrived back at Alfred's apartment had seen Francis' attempts to talk to Alfred become steadily more frantic, and had both of them more and more nervous that he would come to seek Alfred out in person. They'd arrived at the unspoken agreement not to be far from the others sight, especially when they were sleeping.

As a result, they'd both slept in Alfred's living room, Alfred on the sofa at Arthur's insistence, while the angel curled up in a chair. While Alfred fell asleep quickly- he was the sort who needed his eight hours- he slept lightly, occasionally waking up seemingly unprompted to see Arthur's vivid green eyes open and contemplating the locked door. He didn't ever wake up with the angel asleep, which made him wonder how Arthur was going to function through the day. The answer was simple; he wouldn't.

The angel dozed while Alfred was awake, and Alfred found himself flattered knowing that Arthur trusted him enough to do that. When neither was sleeping Alfred found himself a little surprised how well they got along. It would have pleased him more if it weren't for the dark spells as one or both of them remembered the threat of interruption.

Last night hadn't been any different, with Alfred briefly waking up in the small hours of the morning to see Arthur silently keeping watch, like a guardian angel in the darkness. The air of calm that Alfred thought Arthur should have had in the beginning was starting to collect around him. But none of that composure remained this morning, Alfred jerking awake to Arthur's panicked whispers.

"Alfred, he's here!"

"What?" Alfred sat up, glancing instinctively towards his closed front door.

"He's outside, with someone I think," Arthur replied, on his feet, wings spread out the fullest that Alfred had seen them, beating the air and jolting Arthur up and down, onto his toes and back to the soles of his feet.

Alfred swung his legs down to the floor and stood up, Arthur moving away to stand behind the sofa, wings tightening up and folding back as the angel backed up into a wall. They listened as the doorbell rang, accompanied by an incoherent shout and punctuated with a reproachful sounding voice.

"I'm not sure that's him," Alfred said softly, straining to hear.

Arthur shifted, agitated, listening intently. "You might be right," he said, sounding only marginally reassured. "Two of his friends, maybe?"

"Maybe," Alfred replied, creeping towards the door. He looked between the door and Arthur, questioning.

"Jones, I'm not fucking leaving till you open the fucking door!" the voice snapped and Alfred jerked back a step. Arthur fled to Alfred's bedroom, the room furthest from the front door, so fast Alfred only registered his disappearance as the door he'd taken closed.

"Do you want me to knock it in?"

"Gilbert, don't you dare." That voice Alfred definitely recognised, with a painful lurch- and the first had been identified as one Gilbert Beilschmidt, one of Francis' best friends.

His bedroom door slipped open a crack, revealing one unblinking green eye. "Should I open it?" Alfred asked softly.

"Your call," the angel responded quietly, gaze not leaving Alfred's face.

Alfred looked back at the door. He was fairly confident that if it came to a matter of force, he could stop them from physically taking Arthur. None the less, every instinct told him to keep the door locked and hide away with Arthur until everyone had forgotten them. But that was not a life he could live forever.

"Stay there." He waited until Arthur's door clicked shut, before he opened the front door to let his unwelcome visitors in.

"Where is it?"

Gilbert was the sort who could cut a frightening figure when pressed. It wasn't his pure white hair, shockingly pale skin or even the wet-blood coloured eyes that gleamed with an intelligence often belied by his behaviour. These were all physical characteristics that were present when he was drunk, or laughing, or pretending he wasn't cooing over something he thought was cute. Alfred had seen him in many of these sorts of situations, though they were in no way close. He'd seen him in the capacity of a companion because he was Francis' best friend and it was no rarity for them to meet when Alfred was visiting. But he'd never been on the receiving end of the savageness that he sometimes glimpsed.

It wouldn't be accurate to compare Gilbert to a wild cat. Some did, it's true, pointing out the scrawny, small appearance that didn't match up to his viciousness in a fight. But the truth was Gilbert was more of a wild dog. The same air of being a mangy, ferocious, flea-bitten, sharp-toothed, clawed animal, but in possession of that instinct no cat has. Pack loyalty.

"Where's 'it'?" Alfred replied, the anger lacing his tone surprising him. Normally he wasn't the sort to get angry over a simple three word sentence but then again, this was not a normal situation.

"Where is it," Gilbert repeated again, stepping forward and forcing Alfred back without even touching him or Alfred being aware of it.

"He's not an it," Alfred replied, regaining himself and folding his arms, shifting to block the doorway into the room Arthur was in. Subtlety proved, as it often did, not to be one of his strengths. Gilbert's eyes flicked to the closed off-room, and Alfred balled his fists in the crooks of his elbows.

"Alfred." With a faint, familiar start, Alfred remembered the voice that he'd recognised.

Matthew was almost as much of a polar opposite to Gilbert as it was possible to be. He excluded no air of violence, gave off a feel of somebody who knew how to take care of himself in terms of mental wellbeing rather than just literally. Alfred had known Matthew most of his life and almost all of his memories of Matthew concerned a content boy who knew exactly how to keep himself happy, and could extend this ability to those around him. Where Gilbert was loud and obnoxious- admittedly similar to how Alfred could be at times- Matthew was quiet and often, for a reason everyone struggled to label, forgettable. He rarely asked for much. This was why Alfred knew exactly why Francis had sent him. When he did ask, Alfred struggled to refuse his cousin, Francis' younger brother, anything.

"Hey Mattie," Alfred responded, anger seeping out of his tone as if his resolve was a sieve. He smiled weakly.

Smiling in a similarly despondent sort of way, Matthew closed the front door and slipped over to stand by Gilbert.

"Whatever, it, he, the thing," Gilbert said, waving his hands in a way that indicated he didn't care. "Francis' angel thing."

"He's not Francis' either," Alfred snapped.

"So you have got it?" Matthew said evenly, soft purple-blue eyes meeting Alfred's bright blue ones, a careful emotional wall constructed between them.

Alfred looked away to glare at Gilbert, not wanting to hold Matthew's gaze.

"He does," Gilbert crowed confidently. "It's in there, isn't he?" The albino man jerked his head towards the room Alfred was guarding. Pointedly, Alfred moved a little further into his line of vision.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" Matthew sighed, one hand coming up to the side of his head, eyes closing as if he was nursing a head ache. "This isn't like you."

"What isn't?" Alfred said blankly, wondering if this was a clever line of attack. If there was a question he hadn't really expected, it would be that. He'd thought it was pretty clear what he was doing, and Mattie was smarter than him.

"I've not spoken to you in days. Normally we talk all the time, but you didn't even give me any warning. Francis called me and said you'd stolen something valuable from his house, he didn't even tell me properly what it was. But he's a mess over it. I didn't really believe him, but he sent me and Gilbert here and you're acting like a thief."

"Mattie, you don't-"

"Alfred," Matthew interrupted, tone warning Alfred that his cousin's somewhat legendary temper may be about to make a rare appearance in all its passive-aggressive glory. "Tell me the truth."

"I didn't steal anything of Francis'."

Gilbert made a faint growling noise in the back of his throat that Matthew ignored. "Did you take something from his house?" Matthew said clearly, eyes penetrating Alfred's.

"Yes," Alfred replied clearly, this time able to hold his gaze. "But it isn't his."

"Alfred, if it's in his house then it's pretty obvious-"

"You're in my house, do you belong to me?"

"That's different. We're real people. "

Reeling from that comment, Alfred forgot how to retort.

"This is fucking stupid," Gilbert snapped. "You broke into Francis' place-"

"What?!"

"- Went through a hundred locks to get to it and then just shoved it in your car and made a run for it," was the snarled accusation.

Alfred looked at Matthew, praying he wouldn't be in agreement. His cousin said nothing.

"I didn't break into his house and I didn't steal anything," Alfred repeated, meeting Gilbert's furious gaze instead. With dread he recognised all the symptoms of a man itching for a fight. He squashed down the urge to give him exactly what he wanted; heroes didn't do fights like this.

"Calm down and just listen to me; Francis is a lying -"

Gilbert lunged forward so quickly that Alfred barely had time to move his arm up to block the punch aimed for his head. The force was enough to jar his arm painfully and Alfred automatically pulled it to his chest as he tensed to dodge a second blow and retaliate, Matthew agitatedly half-shouting at them both to stop.

The barest hint of a second later Alfred was made aware of the fact that Gilbert had forced him away from the door because it was thrown open with such force it slammed into the wall. A slightly longer fraction of time later saw Alfred leaning dazedly against the wall and Gilbert pinned to the floor.

Arthur was holding him to them ground, knees either side of Gilbert's torso, hands holding his wrists away from him, their faces only an inch apart. The angel's wings were stretched out to their full size, tensed like a hawk's.

"Don't you dare touch him," Arthur hissed, Gilbert too stunned to speak and Matthew making loud sounds of shock and confusion. "Don't you dare."

Alfred moved forward just as Gilbert regained his wits and threw Arthur off him, the angel still too weak after his imprisonment to put up much of a fight after the element of surprise was lost.

Getting to his feet, Arthur looked about ready to lunge at him again anyway but Alfred caught his arm and dragged him back at the same time as Matthew did the same to Gilbert.

"I said to stay put," Alfred said to Arthur, standing in front of him protectively.

"He hit you," Arthur snapped back, side stepping round Alfred to stand level with him.

"Oh my God," Matthew whispered, turning both their heads in sync. Alfred's cousin was staring at Arthur with the expression of one recently hit by lightning. "Oh my God."

Arthur looked away, his wings and arms shifting to wrap around him protectively. Silently, Alfred watched Matthew watch Arthur. Matthew's expression must be a reflection of what his own was when he first saw the angel. Shocked, awed. Entranced. Something clicked in Alfred's head.

"Francis didn't tell you exactly what he was missing, did he?"

Matthew shook his head, still staring at Arthur. "He said it was an angel, but I thought it was like an expensive statue or painting or something. You know how he collects them…"

"Dude, why would you even think that I'd take something like that? I mean, what the hell would I do with it?"

A snort interrupted Matthew's startled laugh, Gilbert shaking the now limp grip off his arm.

"I preferred you in a cage," he told Arthur maliciously.

"You knew?" Matthew asked, tone horrified, as Arthur snapped, "I'd prefer to see you in one."

"Arthur," Alfred cautioned.

"You named it?" Gilbert snickered disbelievingly.

Arthur's look could have frozen hell over. "He always had a name," Alfred said softly, tone deadly. "You didn't ever ask him for it."

Gilbert didn't reply, just pulled up his lips into a derisive smirk. He was no longer looking at Alfred, gaze firmly locked on Arthur in a way unnervingly calculating. The angel stared back at him icily, though Alfred could sense his fear.

Alfred walked in front of Arthur, forcing Gilbert to look at him again.

"You can go back to Francis and tell him that Arthur's here. And he's not going anywhere," Alfred said flatly.

"I think you'll find he is, wonder-boy," Gilbert responded evenly, rocking back on his heels and matching Alfred's gaze. "Just because the thing's got a name doesn't change the fact you stole it."

"He didn't steal me," Arthur said, voice filled with disgust. "If anything, I stole him. Stop talking like I'm not here. If you want me, come and get me."

Gilbert shoved Alfred aside, knocking him off balance. "Now that you've asked for it," he replied, smirking at his own wit.

Alfred lunged to grab Gilbert as he darted forward, but someone else got there first. The albino was pulled up short as Matthew latched onto his arm, dragging him backwards. Skirting round them quickly, Alfred moved back to stand beside Arthur.

"You're literally asking for trouble, aren't you?" he said to the angel, who didn't look at him.

"I'm not an object and I will not be treated as such," Arthur responded harshly.

"Gilbert, calm down. We need to think about this," Matthew was saying, attention split between his companion and Arthur.

"It doesn't change anything," Gilbert responded furiously, though he didn't make to break free of Matthew's grip. "You didn't see Francis- he was freaking out."

Alfred snorted and Gilbert shot him a filthy look.

Matthew looked hesitant, torn. "What do you mean?"

"He's beside himself worrying about it," Gilbert replied, jerking his head in Arthur's direction. The angel's expression was contemptuous.

"Oh was he," Arthur said softly, and Alfred felt a little unnerved at how quickly Matthew's attention switched. His cousin's expression went from worried to captivated in less time than it took for Gilbert to turn his head.

"Tell me, how was he worried?"

Gilbert did not reply, and Alfred watched as red eyes bored into green ones as Gilbert tried to guess where the question was leading.

"Was he worried about my safety?" Arthur pressed, lips pulling back over his white canines in scornful half-snarl. "Or was did he act more like I was just some statue who's value he'd lost rather than a living breathing thing? With a name that he didn't know?"

Silently, Gilbert regarded him. His previous expression of cold conviction was gone, replaced with stubbornness and a faint hint of doubt.

"Gil?" Matthew said quietly, looking for an answer where Arthur had sought to make a point.

Gilbert gave Matthew half a glance, looked briefly at Alfred and then back to the angel. He did not answer, but it didn't matter. Matthew, it seemed, had made up his mind.

Alfred felt Arthur tense next to him as Matthew took a step forward, leaving Gilbert leaning sullenly against the wall. Meeting Matthew's gaze, Alfred gave him a warning look as he continued to advance.

"Sorry," he all but breathed, though he didn't look apologetic. He wasn't looking at Alfred. "Can I…?" he trailed off, hand lifting slightly as he stared at Arthur, gaze alternating between his eyes and his wings.

Wondering what Arthur was thinking, Alfred watched him silently scrutinise Matthew. After a few long seconds of silence, Arthur nodded ever so slightly. Alfred almost missed the look Arthur gave him it was so brief, and he was attempting to decipher it even as Arthur tilted turned his face away from both him and Matthew and brought one wing round in front of him, holding it away from him like a shield. Simultaneously Alfred was reminded of a swan and a Victorian lady, hiding her face behind a fan.

When Matthew's fingers touched the soft feathers, Gilbert let out a faint and apparently unbidden hiss of displeasure that was in sync with Arthur flinching minutely. If he noticed Arthur's discomfort, Matthew didn't show it, brushing his fingers across the length of the wing. Concealed by the out stretched wing, Alfred started as he felt Arthur's fingers grab his wrist tightly.

"Wow," Matthew said, the word coming out like a sigh and something in it setting Alfred's hackles rising.

Before he could react to either Matthew or Arthur, the pressure on his wrist was gone and so was Arthur's wing, safely behind him again, Matthew's hand left hovering in space.

Feeling uneasy, Alfred wondered what was causing the sensation as he glanced at the immobile Gilbert. The albino was watching Matthew and Arthur expressionlessly. Following his gaze back to them, Alfred felt a jolt as he registered a look he couldn't identify on Matthew's face and Arthur's cold, hard expression as he looked back.

"Matthew?" Alfred said, voice sounding strange to his own ears. Matthew blinked and his hand dropped back to his side and he backed away.

"Gilbert," he said, expression faintly confused, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he'd just been doing, "We need to go."

"With or without the angel?" Gilbert said flatly, as if he no longer cared.

"Without," Matthew replied without hesitation. He was moving towards the door. "Because it wasn't here."

"What?"

"It wasn't here, you heard me. We need to go tell Francis. It must have gotten out on its own and the idiot should get over it."

Gilbert grinned faintly, looking amused. "You can do more than deceptively passive, can't you birdie?"

Matthew didn't reply, opening the front door. "I'll call you later, okay Alfred?" he said, disappearing outside without waiting for a response.

Sending Arthur a last considering look Gilbert shook his shoulders as if he was trying to dislodge something, and then followed after him.

Springing forward, Arthur closed the door quickly before turning back to Alfred, and expression of pure relief on his face.

Alfred looked between him and the closed door, feeling faintly disorientated. "Do you mind telling me what just happened?"

Arthur smiled weakly, pushing away from the door and walking past him into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"I need something to drink."