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It was like a punch to the gut, all of the air escaping her lungs, and Rosie couldn’t breathe. He was back. Alastor was back. There he was, in the flesh, draped in red, sharp grin etched into his features. He caught her eye and his expression softened. Something melancholic started to take over before he schooled himself and stepped into the meeting room with Zestial, a strange little egg creature trailing after him.
Rosie followed, feeling numb.
She was happy that was he back, of course she was. But she couldn’t help but also feel...betrayed. He’d been back for at least a week, and he hadn’t bothered to say hello to her? Instead she had heard through the grape vine that he was suddenly helping the princess with her hotel. And the first time she heard his voice in over seven years was through a broadcast as he argued with Vox.
It had been such a shock through her system to hear his voice again. She had ran to the radio he had gifted her decades ago and held it tight with both hands. She’d been so worried. She’d thought he’d died.
Her chest had felt so hollow and empty. Despite assurances from sinners Alastor had made deals with that he was definitely alive—they could still feel his chains around their necks—her concerns were not put at ease. Especially after Niffty had mentioned that it felt like Alastor was very far away. Niffty, who’d always had the upmost faith in Alastor’s power, looked utterly heartbroken at the prospect of Alastor never returning. Rosie had let the poor woman stay at her emporium for many nights during those sad, lonely seven years.
But he was back. And here she sat in the meeting, next to the Radio Demon once again, as if nothing had changed between them. Rosie inhaled, forced herself to smile, and turned toward him.
“Alastor, darling, it’s so good to see you again! Where on earth have you been?” She tried to keep her tone light, as if seeking some form of silly gossip to pass around and not desperately searching for answers to all her questions.
Alastor faced her, smile bright but eyes frighteningly guarded, “And it’s wonderful to see you, my dear! It’s been such a long time. As for where I’ve been, I’ve just been taking a much needed break is all, nothing serious.”
He waved a dismissive hand before looking away, attention caught on the other overlords he probably hadn’t seen in years. Rosie stared at him, trying to comprehend his vague non-answer. He’d always liked to play the mysterious card, but this felt different—wrong. Concern wrapped itself around Rosie’s heart.
“Al—”
The sharp clang of Carmilla Carmine’s angelic steal shoes cut through everything she was going to say and Rosie snapped her mouth shut. She tried to keep her smile steady despite how badly she wanted to drag Alastor out of this meeting and interrogate him on where he’d been for the past seven years, force him to tell her what happened. Instead she stayed seated, held her tongue, and grinned politely at anything and everything anyone said, barely hearing any of it.
Thankfully, the meeting ended rather quickly. Rosie stayed behind in the hallway and waited as Alastor seemed to linger in the office for a moment. She fiddled with the ends of her sleeves, mind tossing and turning over too many thoughts. She had so many things to say, so many questions, so many emotions to work through and express. When Alastor finally entered the hallway, his smile broadened upon seeing her. Rosie frowned.
“Rosie—”
“Where were you?” she asked. Her tone came out more curt than intended.
He blinked and tilted his head to the side, “Why, I was just in the meeting room—”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Alastor. Where were you?”
Her anger was rising. It didn’t feel right to be so angry with her friend who had been missing for so long, but she couldn’t help it. He was gone for years and had the audacity to act like nothing had happened or changed between them—that he could just start back up from they had left off without any explanation.
Alastor eyed her for a moment, regarding her carefully as he seemed to work through what words to say and how to say them, “Rosie, dear, I was simply out of town. There’s no need to sound so worried.”
Something in Rosie snapped at that.
“I thought you died!”
Alastor grimaced, “My, how unlike you. You should know me better than that.”
“It’s been seven years!” She was yelling now, but she didn’t care. He needed to hear it. He needed to know. His absence had hurt. It’d hurt more than she could ever bring herself to admit out loud.
“You were gone without a trace, no word of where you were going or why. Of course I was worried, Alastor. I was worried sick! And then, you suddenly come back and you can’t even say hello to me? After all these years of radio silence, I get to finally hear your voice but you still don’t come and see me? You’re right, I thought I did know you better than that.”
It felt good to say it, to get some of that built up resentment off her chest. And Alastor finally had the nerve to look guilty, though he wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring down at the floor with a strained grin, expression pinched, and his ears flat against his head. His grip on his microphone was so tight Rosie almost feared he’d leave dents in the metal. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Alastor murmured past clenched teeth. His words were so heavily coated static she almost didn’t hear him. He opened his eyes and started to move past her and head for the one of the elevators.
Anger flared up inside her at his gall to try and walk away from her. She grabbed his arm, far from done with this conversation. She still needed answers. “Alastor—”
He flinched, hard, lurching away from her and almost stumbling in the process. Rosie froze, her hand still outstretched. In the early years of their friendship, he had often avoided her touch, but he never flinched away from her. As time passed, he almost welcomed her touch. She could reach out to scratch behind his ears, hold his hand, sweep him off his feet in a hug. But here he stood, backed away from her in terror.
Alastor stared at her, but Rosie wasn’t sure if he was actually seeing her. He looked afraid. In the all years she’d known him, she’d never seen him look afraid. Never.
All of her rage fizzled out, replaced immediately by concern.
“Al, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Her voice seemed to bring him back to his senses. Alastor blinked and shook his head, barking out a short laugh, though it sounded painfully forced, “My apologies, you startled me for a second there.”
That reaction was far more than just being startled. Rosie watched him for a moment, watched him school his expression into an easy going smile, watched him try and fail to force the tension out from his shoulders. She was right to have been so worried. Something happened while he was gone, something terrible.
“Alastor,” she started, keeping her voice low, “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing serious,” he said with a wave of his hand, eyes darting to the side. He was lying, he was so obviously lying.
Rosie frowned, “Al—”
Alastor stepped forward and clasped her hands in his. He glanced around the hallway, and it felt like more than just double checking they were alone. The was a deep rooted paranoia and fear in his eyes. When he spoke, the static filter was gone, keeping his voice hushed.
“I’m working on it,” he whispered, “I deeply apologize for not seeing you sooner and making you worry for so long, but I’m working on it.”
His grip on her hands was tight, but she welcomed it. She’d take his claws on her skin, his teeth in her flesh, just so she could know he was there with her. Because even now, standing here together, he still felt so far away. Wherever he’d been for the past seven years, a part of him was still there.
“Do you need help?” Rosie asked, even though she knew he would say no. She had to be the one the offer her hand, to let him know that she was willing to ease whatever burden he was carrying.
Alastor shook his head, “No, I… Not right now.”
He looked away and started to step back, dropping her hands, but Rosie reached for him. She brought him into a hug, burying her face into his neck. Like this, she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to have gotten thinner. His layers of clothes hid the change quite well, but it stood out so starkly to her here. The worry in her chest was threatening to drown her.
Alastor was stiff in her hold before he slowly relaxed into her touch. He didn’t hug her back, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he almost leaned against her, a sigh escaping him. He sounded so tired. It was so unlike him.
“I missed you,” Rosie said. What a dangerous thing for an overlord of her status to say, especially to the Radio Demon. But she didn’t care. She did miss him. She missed him so much.
“I missed you too,” Alastor murmured. He sounded so quiet, especially without the filter. And what a fool the Radio Demon was to admit such a thing, but she’d never use that against him. She wouldn’t dream of it. If anybody else dared to, Rosie would gut them herself.
They stayed like that for a moment, letting their soft confessions hang over them like a blanket. Rose held him tight against her as he leaned on her, as if she could keep him from disappearing ever again. She still had so many questions and no answers. All she had was the vague knowledge that something terrible must have happened to her friend. She didn’t know what, and it seemed Alastor had no intention of telling her any time soon. But even if he never told her, she hoped he would at least accept her help when the time came.
It was Alastor who pulled away, and she almost didn’t let him go. Rosie gave him one final squeeze before finally releasing him and letting him step back. He looked exhausted, and she watched as he slowly pulled himself back together, charming smile back in place as if it had never left, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She gave it a second before she spoke, trying to keep her voice light despite the concern that was threatening to sink her heart into the pits of despair, “I’m still mad, you know.”
It shocked a small laugh out of him and she considered that a victory. When he spoke, the static filter was back, “Understandable. Perhaps I can make it up to you with dinner tomorrow?”
“It’s gonna take a lot more than one dinner, but I accept your offer.”
“Very well.”
Alastor offered her his arm to hold, and she took it. They stepped through the elevator doors together and lingered for a moment at the back of the building. He was apparently waiting on some potential information and so they bid each other farewell.
“Make sure you visit,” she said, “The cannibals have missed you.”
Alastor smiled wide, “Of course. But oh, dear me, what about Susan?”
“She’ll never admit it, but she missed you too.”
“I think you mean she missed tormenting me.”
Rosie couldn’t stop the snicker escaping her, “Maybe a little bit.”
Alastor joined her in her laughter. It felt a little bit like before. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave him because what if she never saw him again. Rosie sighed.
“Don’t be a stranger, Al.”
His expression was soft as he nodded, a special thing she would always hold near and dear to her heart. As much as she adored his bloodthirsty grins, his softer smiles were something to cherish. A rare treasure.
Rosie waved goodbye and started down the road to Cannibal Town, her smiling falling. Every step felt like wading through an ocean of anxiety. Something terrible had happened to her friend. Something that had brought genuine terror and fear to his eyes. Her dearest and closest friend. And yet he couldn’t—or perhaps wouldn’t—talk to her about it. She didn’t know which it was, but it hurt all the same.
She wanted to help him. In whatever way she could, no matter how little, she wanted to ease his burden. Alastor was a man full of pride, and he despised being fretted and worried over, but how could Rosie not worry over him? Especially after what she just witnessed. Rosie wanted him to trust her, to rely on her. After so many decades together, she thought she had finally reached that with him.
Alastor’s trust was hard earned, and she’d be damned to an exorcist’s blade if she ever broke even a sliver of it. And maybe the fact that he’d vaguely made her aware that something was wrong in the first place—that he was “working” on it—was his way of displaying that trust. Maybe he would eventually divulge more information. Maybe he would eventually accept her help.
Rosie could only hope he’d take her offered hand before it was too late.