Chapter Text
“Oh my… ” were the words that spilled out, as Desmond guided Raymond frantically towards the living room to the sofa.
The family friend had gotten the call from the young boy. Alarmed but soon at ease, but then soon concerned from the way in Des’s voice sputtered about, assuming the worst.
Luckily it wasn’t Targent - thank God - but something else entirely. The mentions of blood and a body not sitting well with the man. Rushing over to the house in a slight hurry panic.
So young… Raymond grimaced, taking a closer look at the unconscious boy- the cuts, the bruises, especially the gashes, were very deep. Noting how these were not from any animal attacks but very deliberate stab marks - three of them, piercing right through the boy’s chest.
How this boy was able to survive - hell, be even alive , was a miracle, as he got to work. Wiping the blood and dirt off with a warm wet cloth. Applying antibiotics, feeling the body tense up. Des assisted him on the side, wrapping the wounds up with sterile. Clearly uncomfortable, but pushed the uneasiness of it to help. Once done, the two left the boy on the couch with a blanket tucking him in. At ease, sleeping soundly.
“He appeared out of the backyard through the forest,” Des started, explaining as they walked out into the hall. “I thought for sure he was gonna attack,” Gesturing over at the long thin sword - a katana, Raymond noticed - resting against the wall near the rack. “But then he started to fall and well… y’know.” He mumbled a bit near the end. “Sorry for making you worry Raymond.”
“No need to be sorry Desmond,” he chuckled, ruffling the brunet’s hair, “if anyone in this house should be worried it’s me. Don’t want you getting all stressed and wrinkled like me now hmm?”
“Heh… I guess not. But this certainly leaves us with another problem though.”
He hummed in understanding, looking back at the living room.
Something about this… that boy… there was something… abnormal about him… he was still breathing… his white hair too… Those two were definite proof of… something . Raymond scrunching his brows, playing with the thoughts in his head before pushing them aside.
This certainly complicates things, but it wasn’t un-manageable.
Though to have another child dragged into their affairs right after Theodore was sent away… the injuries made him wonder what exactly happened, and if there was any correlation. If Targent was targeting other families, dealting tragedy upon tragedy…. that didn’t sit quite right.
So many possibilities, yet so little answers, he sighed. He’ll focus on that when the boy wakes up. They’ll get their answers later. Right now, it’s just him and Desmond; it still felt so odd calling the boy that name.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out my boy. For now, let’s focus on the task at hand.”
“I guess…” Des sullened looking up at the stairs, clutching at his chest.
“Did you eat already Desmond?”
“Yes, I did.” Before his stomach growled. Raymond raises his brow.
“Breakfast or Lunch?”
“Oh…uh, umm… both ?” He blushed, looking over at the time. “I guess it is a bit late now huh?” The old man laughed.
“The same as ever, aren't you? I swear, you get that from your father! What did I say about getting caught up in those books again?”
“I know I know…” he rolled his eyes. “But you know how important this is. If we don’t know more about the Azran then-“
He raised his hand, silencing the boy. Desmond taking a deep breath.
“I know I know my boy. But the Azran can wait.”
“But-“
“No Desmond.” Knelting down, he leveled with him. “I know you want to go after Targent, but you have your whole life ahead of you. Vengeance I understand, but going to face that evil group all by yourself?” Des rolled his crimson eyes.
“I have you , don’t I?” Raymond shook his head.
“As flattering as that is, I’m not as young as I used to be. I’ve served my time - done a few cases here and there, but this ,” he emphasized. “I don’t want you risking your life over something that’s far beyond us. And I think your parents want you getting captured by those cretins now as well hmm?”
Desmond bowed his head, lips curled down. Seeing the frustration fester. But he knew the answer.
“I guess…” he kicked the floor, tapping his fingers on the railing. “I’ll still keep reading those books though. For uh, memories sake at least?”
A stubborn boy set in his ways… Raymond sadly smiled . Knowing full well his mind was set.
“Ok ok. Just please, when I call you, come down. I don’t want your food getting cold now.”
“Ok…” He nodded, making his way half up the stairs, before stopping midway, looking down on him. “Thank you Raymond. For everything.
“No need to thank me Desmond - you’ve already done that, and it’s not your fault.” He added, watching the young man’s face break briefly, before back to stoicism. Climbing up the stairs.Raymond heaving out a long sigh.
He took another look through the frame of the living room, then up the second floor. Before getting to work on lunch - dinner now, he supposed - making Desmond’s favourite. Scouring the kitchen for onions.
The boy was alive - that’s all that mattered. Though his stomach heaved ever slowly, he was breathing, however uneven it was he was.
Roland had carried the boy out of the bank, clothes soaked but worried more about the child making it home. The walk became tense and worrisome. Feeling both the anxiety of his wife and Hershel eyeing him as he held onto the body. The young boy eyeing the elder one closely, Lucille holding a firm grip on his shoulders to keep his distance. For his or for her own ease, he was uncertain. Regardless, it was quiet for the most part, as the sun began to slowly set when they arrived home.
Lucille opened the door for him, as he went ahead to the guest room, gently placing the boy down onto the bed. Moments later his wife came in beside him, first aid in hand, a towel in the other, and spare clothes she had found which were his. Drying the boy up after removing the wet torned up wear. Cleaning and patching the cuts and bruises. Both grimacing the entire time at the rough marks.
As they wrapped the last of the bandage around the boy’s head, they took a step back; still hard for them to look. The boy wasn’t hurt too badly, but from that storm no less… What exactly happened? The thought was too scary for words, as they tucked the boy gently into the warm covers. Taking in their new guest with open arms, and the thoughts along about him.
His hair… Roland thought, looking back at the boy - really looking at him. White , just like his and his wife, both of them noting.
Just who is this child? kept repeating. And what exactly happened to him? Their minds return to how they found him, bleeding out on the bank of the river. Questions piling up after another at the unconscious body, as if waiting for their answers to be solved.
Answers, that they were going to have to wait.
At least now, they know that the boy was safe in they’re care.
He’ll be fine.
Tucking him in.
Closing the lights behind them.
-
As they entered the hall, immediately footsteps came away running from them. Chuckling as they went downstairs.
Lucille anyway, as her husband went off to take a shower. Joining back in the kitchen with her little assistant, seeing as Hershel went back to washing the potatoes, the tap running back on.
“How’s my little assistant doing here hmm?”
“It’s going good! I’m almost done washing the potatoes!” She could hear the quiver, the quickness in his voice, only smiling at the boy’s worry and panic. Coming closer to see his eyes - curious and concerned.
“I see.” She simply said. Joining in helping her son, grabbing a spud.
“Is he… Is he gonna be ok?” It was hard to hear through the running water, but she knew what he said.
“He’ll be fine my dear,” Lucille reassured. “A bit of a fever but he’ll be alright.” Hershel sighed in relief .
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“Me too. It’s quite worrisome, seeing that boy that way. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s ok. He did look pretty bad though…”
“He’ll be fine,” she repeated, putting a dry hand on his shoulder. “I have no doubt about it. He’ll wake up soon enough I’m sure.” But his pained expression still remained, mind elsewhere instead of the sink. She could see the desperate desire to do something for the elder boy. Hershel wanted to help; the boy had such a big heart. He just didn’t know what . “If you want, after we finish these potatoes, you can help me make some soup for him.”
His face started to beam radiantly, a huge smile on his face.
“Yes of course! Then he’ll get even more better!”
She couldn’t help but smile wildly at the boy’s enthusiasm, it was truly infectious, how much Hershel cared. He started picking up the pace, washing up the remaining spuds, before helping Lucille grab some veggies for the soup.
It was nice.
He felt at ease.
Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help but want to ignore it.
He felt… warm. It was a familiar feeling - a happy feeling. Hands bringing him in, gentle arms wrapping around his small frame.
His mother kissed him on the forehead, as she held him close, never letting go. Nuzzling against her chest as they sat silently in bliss, under the shade of the tree in their backyard. The breeze rustling above them in embrace.
It felt nice. Everything was nice.
Everything felt…
..like a lie.
Because it was.
She was gone.
Left him behind, to fend for himself.
It was a lie. It had to be, right?
No, it is a lie. But then why…?
No. Stop.
Just.
Stop.
She… no, Mother and Dante… they both left me. They both… they both… the fire… the house… they… surrounded me… and…
and…
MOM! DANTE! WHERE ARE YOU?! DAD! PLEASE! HELP! HEL-
-
He could feel cold streaks running down the sides of his cheeks. Puddles on the side began to form as he wiped away the not tears and grime away from his face. It hit him as he slowly rose from… these… sheets? The soft exterior he was lying on- a couch - along with the fact he was inside a room - a house….!
The bandaging held him, he realized feeling the restraints. Bandaged head to toe with seeps of blood visible, but not spilling out. He was quite thankful, but still… How did…? Why…?
And then soon enough, it hit him.
-
The forest loomed overhead. Yamato sang to ease his worries, but that only helped for so long. The aching everywhere in his body began to take its toll. Disgusted at what his body had become, leaking constantly of crimson red. Vergil didn’t know if he cou-
No.
He had to be strong. He had to keep moving. He just had to-
There was a light up ahead. It blinded him as he came to the edges of the forest.
He couldn’t anymore.
As soon as he was out, he fell. But not before he hit the ground.
Warm hands - a voice too? - pulling him up.
Before it all faded to black…
-
Someone… someone had found him. They brought him in… they helped me.
Vergil didn’t know how to feel. Gratitude for sure, yet slightly… annoyed, conflicted even, his mind wasn’t making any sense at the moment, possibly due to …. everything .
He needed to get up, but it was still hard to move and he was defenseless and where the heck is Yamato and the room started to spin just from one step and a wave of smells quickly crashed onto him.
Out of his haze and into a trance, his stomach guided him. Too hungry to even think, he stumbled but steadied his way across the hall, into a dining room which was also half a kitchen.
The strong wave of food crashed down upon him, stronger than before as the droning sound of the stove beckoned him. The steam from the pot made him want to melt.
Gazed purely enchanted by the prospects of finally having something to eat. Completely ignoring the other person in the room, before realizing he’d been caught red handed.
Uh oh.
This… wasn’t his proudest moment. And not just that, for some reason his hands were uh… really hot and uh-
It took a couple seconds to realize and well-
“AHHHHHH!”