Chapter Text
“Tch. You're been so cold lately, Jotaro,” Joseph was saying. “Here you are, stuck in the hospital with absolutely nothing to occupy your mind, and you won't even listen to my stories! You're breaking your grandfather's heart here, Jotaro!”
“Can it, old man,” Jotaro snapped. “If I didn't have these fucking bandages over my eyes, I'd break your head with my IV pole. Do you have to fill every second of my existence with some bullshit about what you got up to fifty years ago?”
“Trust me, the second your eyes heal, I'm gonna shove a dictionary under your nose, and you'll see your picture right under the definition of ungrateful,” Joseph harrumphed. Jotaro was sure his arms were crossed and his nose pointed in the air dramatically. He had heard this exact same speech a million times growing up. “One day when you're old and gray, your grandchildren will be just as awful to you as you are to me, and if I'm still alive, I hope I'm not too mature by then to gloat.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Joestar, but it might be a bit early to start thinking of grandchildren. I mean, you have seen (and heard) what he and Kakyoin get up to when they think we're not looking, haven't you?” He could picture Avdol's bottom lip quirking as he barely stifled a snicker at his own joke. It was much harder to glare Avdol into submission than the others even when he could see, not that Jotaro didn't try. The sound of yet more tangerines and bananas being sliced up for him continued unabated.
Polnareff joined in. “Poor guy, everyone's picking on him just because he can't see. Look, Jotaro, I'm giving you bunny ears! You better heal up fast if you want me to stop!” he added as Jotaro not so good-naturally swatted at where he thought was.
After three days, he would take shitty godawful jokes about his shitty eyesight and his shitty stupid fucking mistake that landed him in the hospital in the first place than the soft coddling whispers, the awkward silences, the guilt and horror and tears. Every single one of them had hugged him, cried over him, fretted and hovered over him anxiously when he so much as reached for his call light. He sighed. At least now he had all the Egyptian candies, sweets, and soft drinks he could ever want.
“Sirs, if you keep this up, we're going to have to start enforcing a stricter visitor policy.” Jotaro could picture the nurse narrowing her eyes. In his mind's eye, she was stout and matronly with a vast bosom and her hair up tied up in a bun that looked more like a helmet, small eyes staring at the Joestar group with disdain through a pair of Pince-nez spectacles on a beaded chain. All he knew about her was that she had cold, sticky fingers like a monkey and her breath mints were so strong he would have preferred actual bad breath.
“For Heaven's sake, that's enough teasing for one day! The poor boy needs to rest. He's been through so much. Really, is this the time to be cracking jokes?”
“We're just encouraging him!” Polnareff protested, giving Jotaro's shoulders a hearty pat. This time, Jotaro's aim was true, hitting Polnareff dead center with a pillow. “Oof! Really, I mean it. It's been a rough few days, ya know? Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“I apologize if my humor was misplaced,” Avdol coughed. A soft rustle of fabric dragging across the tiles gave away his position, but he had nimbly stepped out of range for the next missile. For such a big, sturdy man, he was remarkably agile. “We really do wish you a speedy recovery, Jotaro. I have no doubt that you'll be by our side once in no time.”
“May I stay?” Kakyoin asked mildly. Jotaro heard a creak as the other boy seated himself primly, followed by the sound of a book opening. “I promise I won't let a word of sarcasm leave my lips.”
“I'll believe that when I see it,” said the nurse. “Almost all of you grown men, act like it,” she muttered under her breath as she turned, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum.
***
They were, Joseph supposed, being a bit uncharitable. All it had taken was one day, one stand battle gone hopelessly wrong, and now the group dynamics had been completely shuffled about. Jotaro was lying in a hospital bed, his eyes bloodied and useless under those bandages. Even with ten days left to go, no one knew when his eyesight would return, if it ever did.
Awful thoughts bubbled up in his brain like a teakettle about to whistle. He had come so terrifyingly, gut-wrenchingly close to having to bury his only grandchild. He knew Jotaro would hate him for even considering it, but a secret selfish corner of his soul was almost grateful that Jotaro was recuperating in the hospital. At least he would be safe there, for a little while. But was it fair to ask the others to risk their lives for his family when he wouldn't risk his own flesh and blood? Even Kakyoin, who was only sixteen years old?
He would die for Holly a thousand times over, but the thought of sending others to their deaths curdled in his stomach. And so Joseph Joestar made a silent vow to himself, to protect all of them no matter what.
It was a truly exquisite January morning filled with cloudless blue skies, warm buttery sunshine, and colorful wildflowers buzzing with bees. Not at all the sort of morning meant for swearing oaths, he though, and Joseph soon found himself distracted by his tea and toast. Everyone in their little entourage sure knew how to clean his plate, (even skinny little Kakyoin), he thought as he watched Polnareff wolf down his poached eggs.
“It sure is great to have you back, buddy!” With one arm wrapped around Avdol's shoulders, Polnareff kicked back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “We had some amazing adventures while you were gone! Hey, Mr. Joestar, tell him about that hotel back in Lahore! There was this shady guy selling crab juice out back--”
“Gah! We all swore we would never speak of that!” Joseph groaned. “And right in the middle of breakfast, too! What's wrong with you, don't you have any shame?”
“We already engaged in a 'timeless ritual of male bonding', remember?” Avdol said, blowing into his chai with a dignified furrow of his brow that would almost make one forget he was reminiscing about pissing down a man's throat. “My sensibilities aren't so delicate. I bet you all got food poisoning or something...”
“Mr. Avdol, trust me when I say that some stories are better left untold,” Kakyoin sighed theatrically. The other three looked up in surprise to see him leading Jotaro by the hand. The hand quickly moved to Kakyoin's shoulder as he felt their eyes on him. “If Mr. Joestar ever writes his memoirs and has the sheer lack of common decency to leave that one out, every publisher from here to Alaska would have him blacklisted. Mind if we join you?”
“Forget about being blacklisted.” Joseph stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We'd all be in jail. Executed by firing squad or hanged at dawn, even. Maybe both. Are you sure it's okay for you to be up and about, Jotaro?”
“What, do you see a bunch of nurses and doctors chasing us down?” Jotaro grumbled, feeling around for a chair and depositing his bulk gracelessly into it. “It's fucking fine, okay? There's nothing wrong with me except for these shitty fucking eyes. It's actually nice out for once, and the hospital food sucks.”
“Let's put a quarter in the jukebox!” Kakyoin hopped up as soon as Jotaro sat down. He was trying so hard to fill Jotaro's world up with scents and sounds and sensation now that his sight was lost. “What's the nearest English equivalent to 'Shake It Paradise'? Phil Collins, maybe?”
"Ugh.” Jotaro hid back under his hat. “Polnareff, get that quarter away from him, even if it costs you your life. Got it?”
“On it, Jotaro!” Hierophant was fast, but Silver Chariot was faster, and soon the mellifluous notes of Blondie began to trickle through the speaker. Jotaro retreated under his hat even further, if that were possible. Kakyoin grumbled something about ditching them to play whatever the Egyptian equivalent of Frogger was if they insulted his music taste one more time. As the five of them ate and talked and laughed, and even Jotaro managed to crack a smile, a predator lurked in the shadows, watching every move.
***
Avdol often felt as if he were wrangling a bunch of children.
Kakyoin had to be practically dragged away from street art and folk music festivals by the collar, and Jotaro never wanted to do anything but sit in the air conditioning, reading comic books and eating hamburgers instead of perfectly good hamam mahshi stuffed with cracked green wheat. Something had changed since they parted ways in Karachi, and now both of them were sneaking off to make out whenever the adults weren't watching them and came back with puffy lips and rumpled clothing, looking at Avdol like he didn't know what making out was.
Adjusting the medallions around his neck with a sigh, he steered Kakyoin by the elbow away from a display of sea shells and exotic bird feathers beside the apothecary. He might have thought Jotaro would like to touch them, but he was just going to wear him out at this point. Avdol had hailed from a big, boisterous family. He knew his duty as the eldest and stuck to it stolidly. But he would be the first to admit he didn't speak teenager, especially not lovesick ones.
After much consideration, he finally came up with the perfect solution. Kakyoin would go with Polnareff and Joseph to the marketplace to “buy supplies”, which they all knew meant he would scoop up whatever they needed in the first ten minutes and then kill time at the ancient wooden pinball cabinet at the drugstore. He could picture it now: Joseph would bellow instructions over his shoulder like he did when Kakyoin was playing Ghosts 'n' Goblins in Hong Kong. Polnareff would cheer in his ear, munching through the last of his Cracker Jack stash. He would die (had “died”) for any of them, but sometimes they could be a little...much.
Jotaro, he thought, might like to sit in the sun next to the lovely fragrant herb garden he had found until it was time for him to go back to the hospital. Avdol figured he could thumb through some of Jotaro's old copies of Shonen Jump and practice his kanji reading, taking advantage of a rare moment of silence. Avdol enjoyed the long moments of quiet that stretched out between him and Jotaro. It was a different sort of quiet from Polnareff's brooding when he thought of his sister and the empty farmhouse he left behind in France and Kakyoin's shy, stilted awkwardness, like a stray cat waiting to be kicked. Their quiet moments carried an air of sadness that Jotaro's did not.
At least, that's how things used to be.
For the first hour, everything went mostly according to plan. Jotaro dozed, Avdol read, and the stillness of the early morning mist was only broken up by the sound of Iggy worrying at a bone. Kakyoin had been good on his promise, and Iggy had a nearly endless supply of them. Then a thunderous crash came from the alley, followed by a man's harsh braying in Arabic and a small child whimpering in pain and stammering apologies. Not exactly unusual sounds in Cairo, but something about the boy's sniffling made both stand users look (not that it did Jotaro much good).
“What's he saying?” Jotaro jerked his head at Avdol, who put down his manga with a faint 'hmph'. They weren't even fifty yards away from the emergency room doors, and Jotaro was already itching to get into a fight. So much for peace and quiet. “The shithead yelling at that kid?”
“Sounds like the boy ran into him or something, got mud all over his pants...wait, now he's—” A sharp crack bounced off the crumbling sandstone, followed by another. And another. The boy's sniffling turned to wails.
Jotaro stood up. “That fucking jackass. He's beating the shit out of that kid.” “Jotaro, wait...” Avdol cautioned. “Someone needs to teach that fucker a lesson.”
“For the love of—I'll take care of it.” Avdol pushed Jotaro back into his seat. “Wait here with Iggy.”
Three small girls rushed out of the alleyway as soon as Avdol strode off, practically tripping over each other's sandals in their haste to get away.
“Hold on.” Avdol held up a hand. “Just what exactly happened back there?”
“Samir ran into this big guy with weird hair like a bird's nest, and bells...and...and...”
“And a bunch of mud spilled out of his pail and got all over his pants!”
“Yeah! And he hit him real hard! Like this! (the girl drew her little hand back like the men in purple suits with leopard-print trim and gold chains that Avdol had seen in American movies) Pow! Samir's a dork, but even he didn't deserve that.”
“I see.” Avdol straightened from where he had bent on one knee so he could look them in the eye. Jotaro and Iggy were only a few paces away, but Avdol kept surreptitiously checking on them over his shoulder. At least he hoped it was surreptitious. “And where might I find this fine upstanding citizen?”
“Right here!”
The girls shrieked. Dolls, pails, cups, and shovels lay forgotten around the mud puddle where they had been playing, and soon, the only people left in the street were Avdol...and a very peculiar character. Little bells in his thick curly hair jingled as the stranger walked, and he stared back at Avdol from behind a pair of triangular orange shades.
“Well, damn!” the man crowed, clapping his big, meaty hands. A few drops of blood were dripping from his knuckles. “I didn't think it would have been this easy! Mohammad Avdol, the wise fortune teller, falling for such an obvious trap?”
“What's going on back there?” Jotaro growled, scuffing out the butt of his cigarette with his shoe. Damn it, not now….
Wait. 'Trap?'
Avdol sprang off of the shadow spreading from beneath the man's feet, but it was far too late. “Jotaro! Stay right where you are!”
“Is it a stand—” The stand user shouldered past Avdol and burst out of the alley, headed straight for Jotaro. His shadow shot out again, writhing like a desert cobra, closer and closer toward the bench. Iggy leapt to his feet, hackles raised.
“Oh, no, you don't!” Avdol snatched as the nearest piece of the man he could reach—that absurd hair—and yanked, sending the man hurdling backwards with one long wail and toppling onto his backside. Now he had mud on the back and front of his expensive looking white trousers.
Avdol yanked again. He had meant to haul the stand user up the scruff like a naughty puppy, but his already heavy frame felt at least ten times heavier. And that wasn't all—it was as if he were being sucked down a drain, every dome and spire and palm tree in the city, even the street dogs and delivery boys whizzing past him on bicycles rising further and further above his head. The coarse hair slipped from his palm, and when he stared down at his empty hand and saw that his fingers were now short and stubby, the nails tiny. The gold bangles slipped off his wrists with a clatter, each wide nearly enough to fit over his head. The stranger stood, towering over Avdol as if he were twice his height, and began to nonchalantly dust himself off.
“What...?” was all Avdol could say. Magician's Red flared up, trying to shield his master with nubby little wings about as hot as a mug of tea. His long flight feathers were gone, replaced by downy orange fluff.
“My shadow touched you for several seconds while your back was turned,” the man leaned down with his hands on his knees, grinning so broadly Avdol could almost see his reflection in his gleaming teeth. “So I'd say you're only about five, maybe six years old right now. And don't worry about those two.”
Avdol whipped around. He was swimming in several yards of heavy fabric bunched up around his shoulders and his feet were slipping out of his sandals, so the motion only tangled him up further. There was a squeak and a soft thump as something small tumbled off of the bench, cushioned by a bundle of black wool that resembled a crumpled circus tent. A boy who couldn't possibly be any older than three was staring blinking up at him with wide blue-green eyes, a tangle of gauze unfurling around his chubby cheeks. Little hands flew to his tattered black cap, which was starting to slip off of his curly mop of dark hair. To Avdol's horror, a tiny, blue-eyed puppy poked its nose out of Jotaro's coat, sniffing the air timidly.
“Don't worry, kiddies,” the man sneered. An ax appeared in his hands, as if by magic. “You'll be safe with Uncle Alessi.”