I've been working on this for a solid six months and I'm finally pleased to bring this little series to you. I'm anticipating this to be no more than 3-5 chapters long, but I've had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it!
I've set this a couple years before canon events take place, and based on extensive research/rewatches I'm putting them in Florida. Please leave a review if you like, and expect the next chapter by July 18th!
Alister is only a small boy when his parents die, and afterwards his heart is together only by threads. When he's twelve, his heart shatters beyond repair as his little brother vanishes in a cacophony of fire and sound.
Since then, he has been alone– truly alone . On that day, he vows through tears that he will never again allow anyone close to him. He's on what may very well be a suicide mission, and he knows with almost certainty what lies at the end of this road. He will not be swayed from this path, no matter how many bridges he burns. Close bonds will only pull him away from his new purpose, and so he spurns any attempts at friendships.
(The real reason he chooses to be alone is buried so deeply that he nearly forgets it. He fears the hurt and loss that comes from losing any more precious people. Once was enough. Twice was too many. A third time will kill him.)
Dartz seems to understand, to an extent. He never forces Alister to be anything he's not, never demands him to forge bonds or socialize when he's fully incapable of it. He only asks for his respect, his loyalty, and compliance with his orders. As long as Alister does that much, Dartz doesn't care what he does.
Alister is only twelve when he comes to Dartz, and so he's not yet old enough to take on Dartz's cause. After the initial disastrous attempts to temporarily rehome him, Dartz moves Alister to the island temple. While Alister does live there, however, Dartz wisely keeps distance.
It isn't to say that Dartz hasn't tried to get Alister to socialize, based on recommendations from the medical staff. Dartz never outright orders him into anything, keeping his attempts largely subtle. But he also makes it clear that Alister must try. They must present a united front against the Nameless Pharaoh and those chosen to wield the dragons when the time comes—they can't do that if Alister refuses to have anything to do with his so-called teammates.
But there isn't a reason for Alister to want their company. He doesn't see the need to be friendly. All he needs to do is end Kaiba and his empire, and he can do that all by himself. That's all he needs to do. Anything aside from that goal is pointless and a distraction, and that's what these "other Swordsmen" are.
He doesn't like Valon. The younger boy is too loud and obnoxious, a mercurial teenager who's been out of prison for less than a week and it shows . He can be unpredictable and difficult to gauge one minute, then completely transparent and open the next. It irritates Alister that he can't ever fully figure out what he's thinking, and it seems that Valon has realized that. He's made it his life's mission to push as many of Alister's buttons as he can, and there's very few interactions that don't end with them fighting. He doesn't know much about the kid or his background, and he keeps it that way.
But at least Valon is honest. The Australian makes no illusions about who he is and what he's done, and he doesn't try to pretend to be something he's not.
No, that's something Raphael does.
Alister has heard the name Raphael Knighton being tossed around. It's hard not to pay attention to it, as there is a time where the name travels through the societal elite circles that Alister spies on and gathers information from. He knows the basic story, the details all the same no matter who tells it: Raphael's the sole survivor of the cruise liner Harmonia' s tragic sinking, then was stranded on an island for three years before being miraculously found. But Raphael's also thrown so many tantrums about being out of the spotlight, about not being famous enough, and when he suddenly disappears it's such a shame. He hears it broke the hearts of Raphael's family when he ran away.
Alister never delves into the story beyond that. Most of the articles and documentaries have mysteriously vanished from public record, aside from those chronicling the bare basics of the Harmonia's sinking. Even if Alister wanted to investigate, though, he doesn't want to learn more. To think that someone wants to be famous for surviving an event that has killed so many makes Alister nauseous.
It's not like Raphael refutes the claim, either. "I've got nothing left to lose," is all he will ever say when pressed about it. His voice is a practiced level, his expression never giving anything away. "There's nothing for me to go back to."
How can Raphael act as if he's all alone, when he still has a home and a family that misses him? The one bit of common ground between Alister and Valon is that they don't have anything left to them, and if Alister had a choice he'd give his own life to have his brother back. Yet Raphael has the gall to pretend that he's the exact same as they are.
Alister doesn't like anyone anymore, but of his two teammates he dislikes Raphael the most.
The worst is that they're both trying to extend friendly hands toward him. Valon doesn't try as hard as Raphael does, but he is trying in his own way. Raphael is not overbearing, but he's nowhere near as subtle as Dartz is about the issue.
Alister has made it clear he wants nothing to do with them. He won't let them close, doesn't want them to try, but aside from verbal barbs Alister has no way to make them leave him alone. He isn't allowed to hit either of them. Dartz has made it clear that violence among his employees is not tolerated; it's the basis of Valon's parole, among other things.
If they don't try to be anything more than people he must work with, Alister is fine with this uneasy tension between the three of them. It's never been verbalized, but Dartz can and will make it so Alister cannot pursue his vengeance against Kaiba if he doesn't make a serious effort to be cohesive.
It is the only reason Alister is doing the bare minimum of what Dartz asks, but that's all he's going to do.
Alister manages to keep time with Raphael and Valon limited for the first week they're all together. It seems that those two are getting along; there's an incident of some kind involving Valon needing to go to the mainland for medical attention and that seems to cement their own friendship, but Alister doesn't know or care about what happened. The only real interaction he has with them, aside from one-offs or meals, is in meetings with Dartz. In those instances, he is curt and cold. There are plenty of arguments between him and Valon, not one of them ending on a good note. Raphael is a quick-study—he does his best to leave Alister alone.
This lasts until a thunderstorm hits the island.
It's thankfully not hurricane season on the Florida coast, but with the temple being on the ocean the fury of any storm will be amplified. Dartz can divert the worst of it away from them with his magic, but even he can't fully alter the course of Mother Nature. Alister knows this from experience, as it's not the first storm he's weathered in the island temple. When he sees the clouds gathering on the horizon, he already knows he's not going to sleep well that night. Stormy weather always puts him on edge.
He assumes that his teammates already know, and so he doesn't think to tell them; Raphael's spent enough time on an island, at any rate. That's what he thought, anyways, until the first rumble of thunder sounds overhead as they're getting ready for dinner. Valon doesn't seem to care, but Raphael goes too still. "Was that thunder?" he asks, quiet tension in his voice.
Alister shouldn't feel so vindictive at Raphael's discomfort, but he remembers the stories he's heard. "Wow, and here I thought your powers of observation were intact," he replies, perhaps being too snide.
Raphael stiffens, jaw clenching. "I was hoping the storm would move off," he says, his voice tight.
"Well obviously not."
Valon frowns at him, then turns to Alister. "Pull your head in, mate," he says after swallowing his food, pointing a fork at Alister. "Raph's done nothin' to ya."
Alister ignores him. Valon does things to be contrarian, and it's debatable whether he actually likes Raphael. And anyways, it's clear Raphael just shrugs off Alister's response, because he doesn't say anything further after that.
But the rest of the meal holds a tension to it that wasn't there before. As the storm inches closer, the sound of waves crashing against the island gets louder. Raphael looks distinctly caged, and the very moment they're done with the dishes he's gone. Valon shoots a worried look as the older man leaves, but Alister doesn't bother watching him go. It's just an act designed to generate concern and get people worried about him, and he won't fall for it.
Valon turns to Alister. "Not that I should really care, but would it kill you t' be nice for once?" he asks.
"That depends," Alister says flatly. "Would it kill you to use the single brain cell you have, even if it's just once?"
Predictably, Valon bristles. Also as predictable is Alister's own reaction—he ignores Valon altogether as the boy launches into a tirade. He only stays long enough to wash his dishes before he retreats to his room.
That's where he remains until the thunderstorm fully hits. He's able to pretend it doesn't exist, at least to a certain extent. But as the night wears on the storm intensifies, and there is a distinct limit to what Alister will put up with. When one particularly loud thunderclap sounds overhead, Alister decides he can't stay where he is and heads to the common room. The room is a little small but cozy, set more to the interior of the temple and where sound is a little more dampened. There are plenty of books to distract himself with here.
He hasn't been there more than ten minutes when a noise comes at the entrance. When he looks up, it's to find Raphael in the doorway.
Alister is startled by the man's appearance. Raphael is pale and can't fully hide the tremor of his hands, the blue eyes full of anxiety and something Alister thinks he can recognize but can't name. If Raphael is pretending for Alister's sake, he must admit it's a damned good act. Then he realizes Raphael isn't looking at him, but above him at the other bookshelves. He doesn't know I'm here, Alister realizes.
He no sooner thinks it when Raphael's gaze shifts and he registers his presence. He fully expects Raphael to launch into some sort of overdramatic act to garner sympathy. What he doesn't expect is the way Raphael's emotions immediately disappear, his face schooling into a neutral expression. It's a behavior that Alister recognizes, an expression he intimately knows, because it's one he's made more than once.
It's the look of a man who doesn't want anyone to know he's vulnerable.
He wonders how Raphael learned to make that expression; wonders why he knows how to make it. Then Alister promptly squashes that line of thought because he refuses to care about whatever reason Raphael's made up to justify his act.
Raphael breaks the uncomfortable silence first. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you," he says brusquely. "I'm just here to get a book."
Alister doesn't reply, watching as Raphael crosses the room to grab a novel off the shelf. That's fine, if he leaves, Alister thinks. He's being unfairly petty, but he doesn't want to share the space with anyone right now, least of all Raphael.
Another thunderclap sounds overhead, one that's too loud and powerful, and he swears he feels the temple vibrate as the waves crash against the island. Raphael nearly drops the book at the sound, and what little color remains in his face leaves it. The tremor of his hands ripples up through his shoulders, and he almost hunches in place. He doesn't even seem to remember Alister's in the room, the mask slipping away to show a flash of real fear.
This is not an act, Alister realizes then. Raphael is genuinely scared of the storm outside.
Once the thunder dies away, Raphael clears his throat and attempts to relax; Alister can see the mask back in place. He doesn't say anything further and turns to leave, gripping the book tightly enough to blanch his knuckles.
The question is out of Alister before he can stop himself. "You don't like thunderstorms that much, do you?"
Raphael turns to look at him, but it's with the neutral mask in place this time. "No, I don't," he replies after a beat of silence.
Alister's caught off guard by the honest response, having expected something just as guarded as his expression. A pause falls between them, and it's Raphael again who breaks it. "I can't sleep. The storm's riling up the ocean outside, and..."
Raphael looks away, downward at the book. In what little of Raphael's expression he can see, there's something vulnerable and fragile and lost in the emotions playing across his features. "It's not the thunder that's got me," he admits softly. "It's the waves."
Alister doesn't know what to make of the other man. He doesn't know if Raphael is just a damned good actor or if there is more to what he's heard, and frankly he doesn't want to know. But it is that expression that once again spurs Alister into speaking, though not before he picks a point over Raphael's shoulder to focus on so he doesn't have to make eye contact.
"I don't like storms either," he admits, and Raphael looks back up with some surprise. "The thunder reminds me of artillery fire."
It itches and pulls at him to have to admit it. Alister doesn't know what prompted him to share even that much, aside from the sudden realization that they share common ground. This is a man who's lost something important, just as Alister has—rumors or no, there's no amount of experienced acting that can emulate that deep a loss.
He fully expects Raphael to pry further, or to try and create an opening to tell a well-rehearsed story, but Raphael is already turning away again.
"You aren't going to ask?"
Raphael looks over his shoulder at the challenge, something unreadable in his expression. "That's your business, Alister, not mine. I won't press, not when you've made it plain you value your privacy," he replies.
(And that alone earns the start of respect for his teammate—Raphael knows when to push and when to back down, at the very least).
Raphael hesitates, then adds a quiet, "Don't stay up too late. You look like you could use the sleep."
And with that, Raphael's gone. Alister is left alone in the common room, with only a book and his thoughts to keep him company.
That brief conversation in the common room is the first real one he's had with Raphael, one that's not been facilitated by Dartz's presence. It's generated interest, enough so that Alister reluctantly concedes that there may be more to Raphael than he initially thought.
The day after the storm, he pays more attention to the taller man. He sees more of Raphael's act, and he can't help but admire how damned convincing it is. If he wasn't aware of Raphael's troubled history, he'd be inclined to try to get along with the man.
( Maybe you should do your own research on him, a soft voice in his thoughts suggests. He's acting nothing like what you've heard about.
Alister fully ignores that voice.)
There's something else he discovers, solely through observation: Raphael is an older brother. It's evident in the care he shows to those smaller and younger than him, the gentle but firm way he breaks up fights between Alister and Valon, the way he can draw out their best and build on it. Many leaders possess those qualities, but there's an air of patience that Raphael has with his younger teammates that only being an older sibling can cultivate.
Alister can see why Dartz is thinking of making Raphael the one in charge of the Swordsmen. He leads without bullying, a strong presence that cools Valon's hot temper and can almost warm Alister's own frigid personality—if he allows it. He's a reliable and arguably kind presence, though gruff, and at times Alister almost falls for the act.
Almost.
One week turns into one month. There's more he learns about Valon and Raphael, though it's through unwilling proximity; Valon is an incessant stream of curious questions, and Raphael is the only one of them patient enough to answer. Some of it is useful information, while other times he wishes he didn't know as much useless trivia about them as he did.
Raphael carries a knife on him, not for defense but as a tool since he spent so long on the island without one. Valon is dyslexic and can hardly read, as he's never been taught. Neither of them have been to an amusement park before. Valon used to live with a nun. Raphael is allergic to certain fabric softeners. Valon can't swim, Raphael loves cats…and on it goes.
But they know very little of Alister, and he keeps it that way.
Instead, Alister focuses all his attention on gathering information. Gozaburo Kaiba is gone, but that doesn't mean Alister's vengeance cannot be visited on his heir. Rumor has it that Seto Kaiba is just as cutthroat as his predecessor is, perhaps more so. Alister can't afford to fall behind, he needs to know every detail that he can so he's ready for whatever the young Kaiba heir will bring to their meeting.
(He finds out Kaiba is an older brother too, and that his younger brother is all the family he has left. He deliberately ignores that fact.)
Alister gets good at disguises and changing his voice, enough that he's able to blend seamlessly into the crowd. He sneaks into all kinds of corporate galas and high-society parties, listening to the gossip or getting information from anyone working with Kaiba. Some of what he hears is outlandish and he dismisses it; what he deems useful, he remembers and records later. Dartz runs his shadow empire by knowing everything going on around him, and Alister always gives thorough reports.
It's not until the fourth party he attends after his teammates arrive when he realizes Raphael's name doesn't make the rounds in the gossip circles anymore.
Alister can't decide if he's irritated or relieved at that.
Dartz eventually moves the Swordsmen to the mainland. He never says it's because one of them is afraid of the way the ocean swells hammer against the island or the temple walls—he doesn't need to. They're settled into a beach house in a quiet inlet, one that's secluded from all others; Alister knows that the waves will never become intense here, knowing that somehow Dartz will block the worst of the weather with the Orichalcos. Raphael's relief is tangible.
Alister has a different reason to be glad that he's not on the island—he needs internet access to continue digging up information. He's recently learned that the young CEO likes Duel Monsters. Since so many strong souls are now playing the game, it means that Alister must make a deck that can beat him and any other target Dartz needs them to take. He spends hours researching the deck types he needs to counter Kaiba's increasing collection of rare cards.
Alister doesn't pay attention to his own health, ignoring sleep and meals if it means he gets more intelligence on Seto Kaiba. This has always been an issue, one that Dartz frequently warns him about. There's a price to be paid for his work ethic, and it comes due one rainy morning. Alister wakes up feeling as if he's got a ton of bricks tied to his body and his shoulders, and it has nothing to do with the muggy humidity seeping in through the window.
He tells himself he's fine, even as his eyes meet the ones of his tired reflection in the mirror. He says it out loud even as he brushes back hair from now clammy skin. His gray eyes look washed out in a too pale and pinched face, save for two unhealthy patches of color in his cheeks.
"I'm not sick," he whispers even as the world tilts briefly. He ignores the tremor in his hands and the minute shivering, splashing water on his face to try and push away the fog gathering at the edges of his vision.
He takes a steadying breath. They've been summoned to a meeting at the Paradius headquarters. He just needs to see what Dartz wants, and then he can come back here and take the rest of the day off to sleep. He doesn't want to, but he also doesn't want another damned lecture about how he needs to take care of himself. He can head it off at the pass if he already has an action plan.
With the overcast weather, it's probably best to drive the Jeep in the garage rather than their motorcycles. Raphael has both a driver's license and a motorcycle's license, and he's perfectly capable of driving it. But they find the Jeep's gained a flat in the night, thanks to a newly discovered nail, and there's not enough time to change it. The three of them resign themselves to driving in on their motorcycles.
Valon does not yet have an actual license. He's still working on his motorcycle permit; even though Dartz has certain areas of the government in his pocket, there are some things even he can't force. Alister doesn't know how old Valon is, but he knows Valon looks far too young to be driving with a license—it's practically begging for him to get pulled over. It's why they're forced to take the back roads for the most part, but they're caught in traffic anyways; the highway is already bustling and many hope to get to their destinations faster via frontage roads.
They'd left when there was a break in the weather. It starts raining about halfway through their drive, much to Alister's displeasure. By the time they arrive at Paradius Alister's soaked, the start of a migraine is blooming behind one of his eyes, and the world is starting to slowly spin. Great. Just great.
There's a man already in the executive conference room, older and wearing what looks like actual monk robes and a monocle . Gurimo has been here longer than even Alister has. He's seen him on the island temple and at Paradius before. While Alister doesn't like anyone, he must admit that Gurimo is his absolute least favorite person to deal with in Paradius. The man is a bully and, put in Valon's vernacular, "has a stick shoved up and sideways." The man has made little secret that he dislikes all of them equally as much as they do him. So far, his exposure to the Swordsmen has been thankfully limited.
"You're late," Gurimo says stiffly when Alister walks in. Raphael and Valon are not far behind him. They're both also acquainted with Gurimo, and both also not fully thrilled to see him. "Why?"
"We got caught in morning traffic," Raphael replies.
"Did I ask you?" Gurimo counters, eyes narrowing.
Valon bristles at Gurimo, and even Alister frowns at him. Raphael, however, meets the other man's gaze evenly. "Apologies," he says. "I wasn't aware that was a rhetorical question."
There's a subtle bite to the words. Valon gives a startled bark of laughter that quickly turns into a cough. Alister's lips almost quirk upwards in a smile.
Gurimo scowls, but Raphael's neutral expression doesn't shift. Alister knows the older man's unable to fully prove if Raphael is mocking him. It's all about inflection, and Raphael's delivery is flawless.
There's something to be said for how quickly Gurimo recovers. He's already wiped the glare off his face. "You should have learned traffic patterns when you first came into Master Dartz's employ. I know Alister has them memorized. Perhaps I should have a word with Master Dartz about this. He doesn't tolerate wasted time," he says stiffly.
"It's not Alister's fault we're late, Gurimo." Alister's startled to note there's an edge to Raphael's voice. He's further surprised when he realizes Raphael's being defensive on Alister's behalf.
Gurimo glowers at Raphael, but the eldest Swordsman holds his ground. Gurimo is making eye contact with him when he speaks next. "You of all people should know better than to speak for someone else."
Alister's squinting through a headache, but he knows there's something barbed in what Gurimo has said. He also knows that it has gotten to Raphael. There's a familiar rise to his shoulders and a tension in the man's features that isn't normally there, his features briefly stormy.
However, Raphael's face schools back into neutral. He says a simple, "Understood," before he sits down at the table. Valon follows suit, glaring at Gurimo all the while. Alister just doesn't care and pointedly sits across from the other two, doing his best not to drop his throbbing head into his hands.
Dartz enters not long afterwards, his gaze lingering on Alister longer than normal before sliding to the others. He does confirm what Alister's suspected—Gurimo is going to start leading them on "assignments" with the Orichalcos to get them used to using it in duels. Eventually they're expected to take souls on their own, including the Pharaoh's; until they're a formed team, however, they'll have Gurimo overseeing them.
(To Alister, it's pointless waiting. They could go any time to get this Pharaoh, yet they're having to remain on hold until Dartz gives the order. He doesn't understand why, and he's not thrilled at having to wait. He's brought this up before, but a seventeen-year-old doesn't have much say in the grand-scheme of things.)
"Gurimo is going to be leading the next few missions you have, as a way to train you for what's to come," Dartz says mildly. "I expect you to make use of him as a resource. I believe he can offer you valuable insight on your missions."
"Bold of you to assume I share that opinion," Alister mutters under his breath.
The Australian hears him and chokes back a laugh, while Raphael levels a look that is practically a stern warning. Alister ignores both to focus what little energy he has on Dartz.
He doesn't pay attention to much that happens after that. It's mostly just updates on their operations, and if he doesn't hear the name Kaiba he doesn't care. He focuses on staying awake instead, since he's having trouble keeping his eyes open. It's only towards the end of their meeting when his interest is finally piqued.
"I'm sending you to Paris next week to oversee a shipment to our European branch. Alister, we will need your expertise at that time for a separate assignment."
"How so?" he asks, lifting his head at that. Dartz rarely singles one of the Swordsmen out in these meetings unless there is a reason. "Is it related to Kaiba?"
"I will have more details given to you in private," Dartz replies with a hum. His eyes take in Alister's appearance for a moment before sliding past him. "Raphael, is something troubling you?"
Alister's eyes follow Dartz's. Raphael's expression is filled with what is best described as quiet horror. Even as he watches, Raphael's struggling to keep his features clear. "N-No, Master Dartz," he replies, his voice only just even. "I just… Paris?"
Valon's been on the verge of sleep the entire meeting, bored out of his mind, but Alister notices he's wide awake now. He's watching Raphael with a curious frown. Gurimo fixes all of them with a disapproving look that goes largely ignored.
"Yes, Raphael, Paris," Dartz replies smoothly. "I understand your trepidation. While you will all go, I doubt you'll do anything that will compromise your anonymity."
What's in Paris that would make Raphael react this way? Alister feels there's a part of his mind that has the answers, but he just can't focus on it. He resolves to investigate it as soon as his head stops trying to fold itself in half.
The meeting ends, and Alister's about out of the room when he's called back by Dartz. Raphael and Valon both turn in place, and he notes the concern on their faces. He ignores them (what do they have to be worried about anyways?) and steps back inside, closing the door.
"How are things going with Valon and Raphael?" Dartz asks him.
Alister shrugs. "I'm not trying to kill either of them."
Dartz hums again, his expression perfectly clear of anything he's thinking. It's always bothered Alister that he can't get a read on Dartz, despite how long he's been around the man. "What is your opinion on Valon and Raphael?" Dartz asks at last.
Alister's eyes narrow. "Why is that important?" he asks.
"Humor me."
Alister glowers at Dartz. "I can work with them," he settles on at last. Dartz isn't interested in hearing anything different, anyways, and Alister can push aside his own dislike of his teammates long enough to get at Kaiba.
Dartz studies him a moment longer, then softly sighs. "Get some rest, Alister. I have not missed that you are ill. I won't have my Swordsmen collapsing."
"I was already planning on it," Alister says honestly, relieved he's allowed to leave. He gives a short bow, and then he's crossing the room before Dartz can change his mind.
"Alister."
He stops and turns. Dartz is watching him with an intensity that can be felt from across the room. "It would not hurt to put some faith in them. Valon can be a great ally if given the chance, and Raphael will one day be leading you both in the field. You need to be able to trust them," he says quietly. "Valon is not your enemy, nor is Raphael."
Sure. One's a jailbird and the other is a spoiled brat. It is with a good deal of difficulty that he bites back this response. "I'll think about that," he lies, and then he slips out of the room before Dartz can call him back.
Alister is the first one back at the beach house. It starts raining again; Florida is caught in a bout of rainy weather, but thankfully no storms are on the forecast. That said, the two times he's been caught in the rain on a motorcycle have left Alister soaked through.
He's upstairs and in his room before anyone can intercept him. He shuts the door behind him firmly, shedding his boots and letting his coat fall to the floor. He doesn't do anything else, staggering to the bed and flopping onto the mattress. He's suddenly very cold, his body shaking with ill-suppressed shudders; even with his arms wrapped around him, it doesn't warm him.
He grabs the blankets and pulls them over himself, curling into a tight ball underneath them. He knows what this is going to turn into, and his rational mind warns him that if he doesn't get out of the wet clothes and out from under the covers it's going to get so much worse. Alister ignores that thought and burrows deeper under them.
He doesn't know how much time passes after that, as he immediately falls into a restless sleep. What brings him out of it is someone knocking at his door. "Go away," he says, his voice strangely hoarse.
"Oh, good. You're still alive in there."
Alister's eyes reluctantly open at Valon's voice coming through the door, eyelids burning and heavy. He squints at the door, but he can't make his vision focus.
He doesn't want to answer the knocking that's started. Doing that requires him to get out of bed, and staying put is far more appealing than moving . But he knows better—if he doesn't answer, Valon will get Raphael or Gurimo. He doesn't want either of them here, not right now.
He huffs and forces himself to leave the warmth of the bed. Violent shivering starts as his bare arms and waist hit the cold air. He really doesn't want to get out of bed. He feels like crap, and he isn't in the mood to deal with another round of Valon's—
"Alister?"
He blinks. Somewhere between the bed and his door, he's wound up on his knees. A small part of him feels vicious discomfort as he realizes he doesn't know how long he's been there.
He lifts his head, seeing a familiar outline in the now open doorway of his bedroom. Valon's watching him with a tilted head. The Australian's body posture is casual, with his hands carelessly folded into his pockets, but it doesn't carry into his eyes or his facial expression. Valon is…worried? Huh, that's new.
"Valon, get out," he snaps, but the words lack fire. His arms are still wrapped around him in a vain effort to keep warm.
The Australian ignores him. "What are you doin'?" he asks, stepping into the room.
Alister forces his vision to focus long enough to deliver a scorching glare. "Get out ."
He can practically see the gears turning in Valon's head. "Naw," he replies after a pause. "Y'know somethin', I don't think I will."
Alister narrows his eyes. He tries to find the energy to rise to his feet, but he can't. Staying where he is, with his arms around his body to hold in the warmth, is a lot more inviting than fruitlessly snarling at people.
Something ice cold presses itself against his forehead. Alister flinches away, unused to physical contact. "Get your hand off me before you lose it," he mutters.
Valon gives an exasperated huff. "Yeah? Try sayin' that when you're not hunched in the middle o' the floor, shakin' like a soaked kitten. C'mon, fella. Get up—you can't go lyin' on the floor all night, 'specially when you're sick."
Alister grumbles but tries to rise to his feet. Then he blinks rapidly as the world lurches unpleasantly. The room is spinning and dipping, and a wave of nausea rolls through him.
"Alister, wha'—hey, are you okay?"
Valon's expression is giving way to what Alister's tired mind labels as concern. He doesn't know and doesn't care if it's supposed to be a different expression—his world goes sideways just as his eyes slide shut.
The next thing he registers are voices around him. He doesn't open his eyes, too tired to force them open just yet. Just…jus' five min's…
"…er. Alister."
Huh?
He thinks he's floating, and he wonders if the Orichalcos can grant the power of flight. Then he realizes he's being carried, the grip strong and yet gentle.
"Alister, can you hear me?"
He tries to focus on what's happening around him, fighting to get his rational mind to work again. He knows they're moving, though he doesn't know where. He makes an involuntary noise as he starts shivering again.
"It's all right, Alister." The gruff voice is gentle, the tone soothing and low. "Your clothes are soaked. I need you to either get yourself changed or give me permission to help you. Can you do that?"
Alister doesn't know what he says, but he feels like whatever noise he's just made is something close to assent. His head is pounding too much to think, his body feels so heavy, his mind is coated in slick oil, and he's so tired.
There's a strange gap in his present memory. There's one moment where he's being set down and sat up, and then lying down and in dry clothes in the next. There's a weight on the mattress, off to the side of him. Someone is sitting on the edge of his bed.
His hand moves of its own accord, trying to find blankets to wrap himself up in. A larger hand catches his wrist, albeit with marked care. "Alister, what are you doing?"
"Cold," he mutters, trying to huddle into a miserable ball. His teeth start to chatter.
"No blankets for this, Alister," says the voice, a soft apology in every word. "You'll make the fever worse."
"Please ," he begs. He doesn't care how he sounds—his body hurts from how cold it is. "Jus' wanna blanket."
There's a pause, followed by a quiet, relenting sigh. He feels something at his feet shifting. "Just the sheet. If your fever goes any higher, I'm taking it off."
He almost cries with relief as he feels the sheet rise over him. He immediately burrows into it, teeth loudly chattering. The constant motion of his jaws is only making his headache worse. He whimpers as he tries shoving his head into the pillow to alleviate the stab-throb of pain shooting through his skull.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, followed by gentle but firm pressure as he's repositioned onto his side. He feels a cool washcloth drape itself across his forehead and across his eyes. "Stop that. Does your head hurt?"
He manages a small nod.
"Okay." The weight shifts off the bed completely. "I'll be right back, Alister."
There's a low murmur of voices, their words indistinguishable but familiar. There's another blur, another moment that Alister loses track of what's happening until the weight on the mattress returns.
"I've got some soup. I need you to sit up and try to get some of this down. You can't take medicine on an empty stomach."
That makes sense. Alister struggles out from under the sheet. Someone's propping him up, a firm arm at his back. What feels like a mug is pressed into his hands. The weight remains in his limp hands until Alister finally realizes what he's supposed to do, and his fingers curl around it. The smell of chicken noodle soup reaches him and his stomach grumbles. He doesn't remember when he ate last.
"Alister, open your eyes," the voice orders. "This is hot, I don't want you burning yourself. Do you need me to help you?"
What remains of Alister's pride cuts through the feverish fog—he is not so sick that he needs someone to feed him as if he's an infant .
He shakes his head and forces his eyes open. They find Raphael's for a moment, and he registers the very real concern Raphael has in his features. Not acting, he thinks, dazed and disbelieving. Not a façade. He cares.
His blurred vision shifts and travels to the mug in his hands. He lifts it to his mouth, and warm liquid brushes against his lips as he takes a few gulps. He only pauses to let himself swallow and breathe. All the while, Raphael remains where he is to support Alister but stays quiet; he's ready to help, should Alister ask for it.
He downs maybe half of the soup before he finally shakes his head. "No more," he says, his voice rough and exhausted.
The mug is taken from him, and he feels pills being pressed into his hand. Alister doesn't need further instruction and takes them, not even waiting for the water to swallow them. He promptly lays back down, settling back under the sheet and curling up.
He doesn't open his eyes, but he can feel the weight on the bed. Raphael is still here, he realizes. Does he still want something? He tries to sit up to ask, only for a hand to settle on his shoulder.
"You're okay, Alister. Try to sleep," Raphael tells him, his voice quiet and still very gentle.
That seems like a reasonable request. Alister lets himself fall into the darkness again.
A hand carefully brushes his bangs aside, the palm gently pressing itself against his forehead.
It's what finally pulls Alister out of sleep. He doesn't open his eyes, though, too tired to do much more than lay still. If he thinks about it hard enough, he thinks there's bits and pieces of scattered memories, of worried voices and blurred figures.
Now, however, he hears a soft and relieved sigh off to his side and above him. "The fever's finally broken," comes the low timbre of Raphael's voice.
He feels a wet washcloth being placed back over his eyes, and Alister opens them only when the cloth is over them. He can see a small sliver of warm light peeking through the gap where his nose tents the cloth; Raphael or Valon must have turned his bedside lamp on. His eyelids feel too heavy to hold open for long, and they slide shut again.
"Tha's good, I guess." Valon's voice is muted, quieter than Alister's heard before. It's enough to catch his attention, enough to stop him from trying to immediately go back to sleep. "Why didn' 'e tell us he was this bad off?"
"Why didn't you tell me you had two broken ribs and a very infected stab wound when you first came?"
A pause. "…Oh."
Silence falls. It's weirdly comfortable, one that almost pulls Alister back into sleep.
"Raph?"
"Hm?"
"He don' like us all tha' much."
"…No, I don't think he does."
"So why are we here at three in the mornin' tendin' to him?"
Another pause follows, one that Alister is almost tempted to open his eyes for. At length, a tired sigh comes. "Alister's not immune to everything. Neither are you."
He doesn't need to look to know Valon just rolled his eyes. "If you think for a second he'd 'elp us if we were this bad off, forget it. I think he'd rather just kick us off a cliff. Hell, I think 'e'd jump off headfirst b'fore he'd do wha' you're doin'."
"You don't know that," Raphael chides.
"Raph, do you ever actually look at the bloke without Dartz's 'get-along-or-else' glasses? He hates us."
"That's fine. I'm not chasing a kick to the face, but I can't stand by and deny help to someone who clearly needs it."
"You say that like you actually care 'bout us."
There's no immediate response, followed at last by a low hum. "I don't like or want to see either of you hurt." It's a carefully delivered response, but Alister can read between the lines. He knows Valon can too.
"…Huh." The sound is filled with disbelieving amusement. "You're just a big softie, y'know that?"
There's a quiet but warm huff of laughter. "Careful about where you say that. You'll ruin what's left of my reputation."
What's left of it? Despite the overwhelming fatigue, Alister feels a spark of curiosity. Is he talking about his time in the public eye ? If so, it'll be the first Alister's heard him speak of it. He wonders if he's going to get any insight into Raphael's home life, maybe understand why he chose to abandon his family and run away from it all.
But Valon doesn't seem to push the subject, and Alister's surprised that he feels frustrated. The one time I need you to be an incessant chatterbox, you decide to clam up. Of course you do.
There's a lull in the conversation, comfortable enough that Alister starts dozing again; at some point, he feels a weight settle at the foot of his bed, not quite on his feet but close enough for him to register the weight. When the conversation resumes, there's nothing that catches his attention enough that he feels obligated to stay awake for it.
Eventually the voices taper off as a deeper silence falls. Alister's not sure how much time passes between the silence and when he next opens his eyes. He moves the partially dry washcloth aside, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for his blurred vision to focus. Only when his world regains clarity does Alister look around.
Valon is sprawled across the foot of his mattress, snoring softly. Raphael is asleep in a nearby armchair, sitting sideways in it; his legs hanging over one armrest, and his head is pillowed by the rise of the chair. His arms are loosely folded across his lap.
His eyes shift to the clock. Five o'clock in the morning. They've been with him all night, even after the fever broke. He doesn't understand why at first, until he realizes that they were staying to make sure he's truly over whatever got to him earlier.
Alister doesn't know what to do with that. Maybe Raphael is just doing this to maintain appearances, and maybe Valon is in here simply because Raphael is.
Maybe they're in here because they're worried about you, and because they care about you.
Alister shoves that thought aside as quickly as it occurs to him. He's not entertaining that line of thinking. He will not let himself have anyone to care about—he knows where that road goes, and he can't ever face what lies at the end of it again.
But…
He thinks about it, then reaches for a spare pillow. He takes care not to move his legs, doing his best to keep Valon asleep. He's not in the mood for a fight, and he'd rather be caught dead than have either of them wake up right now. He leans over and carefully tucks the pillow between the chair and Raphael's head. It's not enough to fully make it comfortable, but it will hopefully prevent a crick in the neck or a headache. The older biker shifts with a soft noise, but otherwise remains asleep.
With that, Alister turns his attention to Valon. He takes a moment to locate his quilt, finding it in a folded pile on the floor. He carefully reaches for it and slowly drapes it over Valon's body as best as he can. The boy hardly twitches. He's out like a light in a dead-to-the-world sleep.
Satisfied, Alister settles back under the sheet and shuts his eyes.
When he wakes up hours later, it's later in the morning. The blinds have been closed, the lamp turned off. There's a cup of water on the nightstand that wasn't there last night. The quilt has been pulled up over him and his pillow is sitting on the now vacant armchair. There's a piece of paper resting on it, a simple thank you written in neat and elegant script; beneath that has a crudely written tahnx i quess, the letters written in uneven sizes.
Alister can't fully explain why he feels a sudden warmth at the sight. He attributes it to residual fever and goes back to sleep.