Chapter Text
"Can you not do anything correctly?" Alastor spat as he pushed Vincent aside who was attempting to unlock the back door of their next murder target.
"Sorry, Al" he murmured softly, stepping back and scanning the area for any onlookers.
"I mean, seriously... how difficult can it be to pick a lock? I rely on you for one simple job. Sometimes I question why I ever got involved with you. For the amusement, I suppose" he grumbled while working on the lock.
Vincent remained quiet, feeling crushed by Alastor's words. All he ever wanted was to gain his approval but his trembling hands had let him down. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed lights flickering in the distance accompanied by the wail of sirens. Panic seized him.
"Al... you don’t think those are... ?" he asked anxiously.
"Damn..." Alastor muttered under his breath. This was all Vincent's doing because they would have finished by now if it weren't for him. "We need to split up... you go that way" he gestured "and I’ll head this way” pointing in another direction. "We’ll reconvene at the cabin" he instructed Vincent, who merely nodded with wide eyes. "Be quick and don’t get caught" and with that, he took off, naively trusting Vincent not to mess things up.
-
The cabin was too quiet. Vincent should have gotten back half an hour ago and yet there was still no sign of him. Had the fool gotten himself lost or forgotten where the cabin was? He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that was the case. Vincent was a liability and was secretly grateful that he made the decision to split or else the idiot would have slowed him down too.
Half an hour soon turned into an hour and Vincent was still not back. Alastor began getting restless and paced around the cabin as he waited. His half cup of coffee he made when he got back soon grew cold against the untouched one he made for Vincent. 'Vincent was fine… he always was. He was a buffoon, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have gotten caught’ he thought to himself.
Another 30 minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Vincent. He was debating going back out and rescuing him from whatever stupid situation he had gotten himself caught up in but would he even be much help if he had gotten caught by the police? Would Vincent keep quiet about Alastor or would he spill the beans about everything? But then he paused for a moment and his next thought gripped his chest in an ice grip... what if he had gotten hurt and is bleeding out in a ditch somewhere?
He didn’t like this one bit he thought to himself. He walked over to put his coat on when he finally heard footsteps outside, uneven and rushed before the door flung open and Vincent stumbled through. Alastor let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding when he saw him, relief flooding him immediately.
"Vincent, you idiot! What took you so long—" he was interrupted as Vincent fell to the ground. Alastor swiftly caught him and eased him down onto the floor. "Vincent… what happened?" Alastor demanded angrily.
"Gun… got shot" Vincent slurred.
"Shit… shit, shit, shit," Alastor muttered under his breath as he glanced down at the wound. The usual calm and collected man appeared panicked. He quickly tried to recompose himself because one of them needed to think clearly and it certainly couldn’t be Vincent.
"Had to hide… wait until they left" Vincent chuckled weakly.
"You’ve been bleeding out for an hour?" Alastor asked incredulously.
"Mhm…" Vincent confirmed. "Gonna die in your arms. How romantic" he said, looking up at Alastor with a faint smile.
"Shut up, Vincent" he snapped back.
"Sorry… I’m just scared" Vincent replied quietly.
"You have no reason to be. Everything will be fine" he reassured him calmly although there was a slight tremor in his voice. He unbuttoned Vincent’s shirt and pulled back the ruined fabric, making him wince in pain. His fingers grazed the wound, instantly staining them with blood and caused Vincent to flinch. Vincent wanted to speak but exhaustion overwhelmed him.
Alastor saw the dazed expression on Vincent's face and felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. "Stay with me, Vincent. Stay with me" he urged, though his tone was less commanding and more like a desperate plea. He wrestled with the decision to lift Vincent and move him to the bed, but if he had been losing blood for an hour, time was of the essence.
"I’ll be right back, Vincent" he assured him as he quickly pushed himself off the floor and dashed off to gather supplies. Alastor returned with a makeshift first aid kit faster than one might expect. Fortunately, they had emergency supplies on hand due to the nature of their work. He knelt beside his friend and began to search through the kit. He retrieved a bottle of antiseptic, causing Vincent's eyes to widen in alarm.
"Alright, this is going to sting" he muttered mostly to himself rather than to Vincent.
"Of course it will" Vincent chuckled weakly "At least one of us is going to enjoy that"
Alastor ignored him and applied the antiseptic. The moment it made contact, Vincent gasped and his body jerked involuntarily. Alastor reacted immediately, steadying him with firm yet gentle pressure. "Easy" Alastor said, his voice low and calming "Breathe. I’ve got you".
He cleaned the wound expertly, dabbing rather than wiping and he replaced the gauze as it became soaked with blood. His hands were steady but every wince from Vincent made him falter ever so slightly.
"You’re being gentle. I didn’t know you had it in you" Vincent croaked weakly.
Alastor kept his gaze down as he focused on the wound "You’ve been shot. Forgive me for being cautious".
He worked on carefully extracting the bullet and paused whenever Vincent's breathing faltered. When Vincent's head began to droop, Alastor gently lifted it, ensuring he remained upright.
"Hey" he said sharply, concern breaking through his calm demeanor "Stay with me. Keep your eyes open".
Vincent swallowed and nodded "M'trying" he whispered "Just... dizzy".
"I know" Alastor replied without hesitation. "You’re doing great. Just a little longer".
He covered the wound with a bandage and applied pressure as he secured it. Vincent hissed and tightened his grip on Alastor's sleeve before it loosened.
Alastor noticed it immediately “Vincent?” He lifts Vincent's chin gently, searching his face. “No... don’t you dare”.
Vincent's eyes fluttered and appeared unfocused. “Al…?” The name is barely audible “Can’t—”
His body goes limp.
-
The hours seemed to pass slowly since Vincent went limp and he had successfully managed to get his friend onto the bed where he gently laid him down. He had positioned a chair next to the bed to keep an eye on Vincent, close enough to hear every breath.
He tells himself that he's doing this for practical reasons because he didn't want Vincent to die. He never sought out Vincent's company but he was useful. They had been thrown together by chance yet he seemed to enjoy his presence. He examined the bandage once again and it was dry which was certainly a good thing. He then checked Vincent's pulse, his fingers resting on his wrist, counting longer than was perhaps necessary. It's stronger than it was before but still too slow for them to be out of the danger zone.
"Honestly" Alastor whispers softly to himself "You’re really milking this". The humour fell flat as he watched Vincent’s chest rise and fall, making no signs of waking up anytime soon.
He noticed how empty the room feels without Vincent’s chatter. Alastor was always happy for silence but this silence was just unbearable. Just hours earlier when Vox went limp, something sharp had sliced through him before he could react.
That wasn’t fear. He understands fear. This was… something else entirely.
Alastor buried his face in his hands and tugged at his hair in frustration. Why did he suddenly care whether this foolish white boy lived or died? Two months ago he wouldn’t have cared at all. Why hadn’t he just killed him when he had the opportunity? Vincent certainly fit the profile of his typical victim. White and stupid.
So why was he now wishing for him to open those stupid eyes? Why was he killing his back in this damn chair, checking his pulse and bandage repeatedly?
The realisation crept in gradually and it was unwelcome yet undeniable.
He genuinely cared if Vincent woke up. Not because he’s useful but because the idea of his days going on without Vincent’s presence causes an ache in his chest that Alastor had never felt before.
Alastor raised his head from his hands and glanced at Vincent. His hand gently moving to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face as he gazed down at him with a nearly affectionate expression.
“Well… you have to wake up now” he chuckled quietly “You can’t just leave after making me realise things".