I was reading LuckyLadybug's fic, "On My Way Home" when one of my plot bunnies gave me this. I tinkered with it and ended up with this oneshot.

Quick note: I have no idea where on earth Alister is from. Therefore, there is no actual country that is listed in this fic. Also, the bikers were in three separate countries at the end of the series (Valon in Spain, Alister in Italy, and Raphael in France). I reference those locations in the fic :)

Set post-series and I hope you all enjoy it :D

He stared out of the window from the inside of the train, his eyes focused on some distant point outside the train.

Most people who saw him seemed to deem him a punk or some sort of riffraff and therefore steered clear of him; some were even trying to figure out his gender, blatantly staring until they got their answer before a steely eyed glare made them look away hastily. People tended to have their eyes drawn to the violent shade of magenta that was his hair and his strange attire, consisting of a midriff baring shirt, a dark trenchcoat with belt buckles sticking out in every direction, and dark pants with two belts draped around his waist.

Not one of them said a thing to him, not even an, "Excuse me," if they passed him.

It didn't bother him at all that they ignored him, though—Alister wasn't talkative to begin with.

He sighed, glancing out at the countryside that was passing by in a blur. Alister was not too sure what had made him come here again; frankly, he wasn't sure at all what had possessed him to even think about the place he was now heading to. He had been in Italy briefly before deciding to revisit his old home.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had any thing else that was urgently requiring his attention.

Ever since he had re-awakened after regaining his soul, Alister had been searching for a new purpose in life. The DOOM temple had formerly been his home and he'd been involved with Dartz's organization for nearly eight years, and Alister had quite a bit of money saved up from his "job" at Paradius. With the temple submerged under a good two hundred feet of water, he had decided to search for some other place to rest his heart.

One positive aspect of this, however, was that Alister no longer harbored any hatred towards the Kaiba family. Now that his head was clear, he was absolutely mortified at what he had nearly done to them. He was deeply ashamed (though no one would ever hear him admit it) so he had left; he would go ahead and apologize for his actions to Kaiba, but his pride would not let him...besides, he wasn't sure how to approach the other man without requiring a weapon for his defense.

Another thing bothering the young redhead was a strange feeling in his chest. For the first time in eight years, Alister felt homesick—partially why he was going to his old hometown.

He heard his destination get called out by a nearby steward and Alister rose to his feet unsteadily. The bumpy train ride was annoying and he could swear his brain was still bouncing around in his skull. He left his seat after collecting his bag and his motorcycle out of the cargo car and stood on the platform. He looked around at what was once his home town, pointedly ignoring all the stares coming from the train.

There were obvious signs that the town was undergoing reconstruction; a few construction workers and their equipment were scattered throughout Alister's immediate line of vision. But beyond them, Alister could still see vast expansions of rubble, so he knew immediately that the men here were recent arrivals.

His mind wandered as nearly forgotten memories began to resurface and he found himself instinctively walking toward a certain area.

Progress of the workers was evidenced by the cleared pathways and some houses that had the beginnings of reconstruction on them, but here and there Alister would stumble over some small piece of rubble they had missed; one time he actually lost his balance and fell face first onto the path.

"Guess that'll teach me to watch where I'm going," he said, glaring at the offending rock.

Alister's eyes landed on a fallen mailbox and he blanched, reaching for it with a trembling hand. It was not just any mailbox...that was his old mailbox. Then...that meant...

Home.

Alister looked up at the house in front of him and swallowed, getting to his feet. He recognized it almost instantly, even though there were bullet holes and mortar powder all over the walls and it seemed that part of the outer wall on the second story was gone, but other than that his home was intact.

Alister's breath caught in his throat and he walked slowly to the front door hesitantly. He took a steadying breath before reaching for the doorknob and going inside.

There was no furniture...no pictures...nothing inside. But Alister wasn't expecting anything to be there; his home was just one of the countless others that had been plundered for supplies when the time had come for it. Absently he walked up the stairs, turning into what had been his parent's room.

Alister had only vague memories of his father; he had been four (Miruko only a year old) when his father had been killed by a misplaced landmine. But his mother had always reassured him that his father had been such a kind, gentle-natured man; Alister had taken after his father in personality, according to his mother.

Sighing, he left that room altogether to go down the hall. He knew the way to his and Miruko's old bedroom.

This was where the wall had been blasted out, and there were scorch marks everywhere here to prove it. But Alister had not even cared, because the memories in this room had drowned out everything else.

"Miruko," he said softly, something in his chest tightening.

After his mother had died, courtesy of a gunfight at the local grocery store, it had been up to him to protect his little brother. Miruko would not die if he could help it, he had vowed. Since both of their parents were dead, that meant that Miruko's safety fell to him...he had sworn that he would not let his brother die...

Alister turned on his heel and practically fled his home, stumbling out to a nearby lightpost. What was I thinking? This isn't helping me, it's suffocating me!

He shouldn't have come back here, he thought, trembling as he continued on his way. The memories were starting to return in full force; the memories that had resurfaced in his old bedroom had started to overwhelm him and he could hardly stand it.

Alister had been walking while he'd been in deep thought and the memories of his brother clouded his thoughts, so he blamed it on those factors when he realized where he had walked to. He stopped walking and stared, his eyes widening in horror.

He had come to the one place he never wanted to see again.

True, time had made weathered everything here and the grass was longer than before. But it wasn't enough to hide the gutted remains of a rusted tank, nor was it enough to banish the charred crater where it rested.

And it sure wasn't enough for Alister to not recognize it.

His heart thudded loudly against his chest, desperately wanting to run and yet unable to. He couldn't make his legs move...he had to get away...of all places...no, not again, not that memory...

"Alister, wait! Mama's locket...I dropped it!"

"Don't worry about it, Miruko! Stay there—I'll go get it!"

An ear-shattering explosion behind him...the heat on his back that propelled him forward...the smell of smoke and burned flesh...a badly charred acton figure at his feet...an inhuman scream that rent the air that was his own as he finally realized what had happened...

He fell heavily to his knees, shaking. Of all memories he had to remember this one...time should have been enough to dull the impact of the memory, but this place had brought it out in full force.

It was a matter of pride that held Alister back from shedding the tears in his eyes, but he could honestly say that they were definitely watering now.

Brother?

Alister's body jerked at the voice, and he looked around him wildly. It couldn't be...

Alister?

The redhead turned around to face his younger brother.

Miruko had only been seven when he had died, so he was definitely shorter than Alister, but his appearance was similar to Alister's. His ruffled red hair was not as violent a shade as his older brother's, but it was undeniably red and his light gray eyes resembled the pair looking at him. The child was transparent; Alister could still see the trees through Miruko.

It is you! I've been waiting for you to come back here, big brother! said the child, his eyes sparkling in delight.

"Y-You've been waiting for me?" asked Alister, rubbing his eyes.

Uh-huh. I couldn't talk to you before 'cause of that Orichalcos rock, but I knew you'd one day come back here.

The child paused, and then said quietly, It didn't hurt, Alister.

Alister instantly understood what his brother was talking about and stared, unable to find his voice.

I never felt a thing. I just woke up with Mama and Papa in Heaven. And they told me to tell you that it wasn't your fault.

Alister digested what Miruko had said, relief overwhelming him entirely. He had carried the guilt of his younger brother's death for so long, so sure that his parents had blamed him for the child's death...to hear other wise...Alister could barely even think coherently.

You can't stay here, big brother. You're alive now—but this place died. You're needed elsewhere, big brother.

"Miruko, I don't think Kaiba exactly needs my assistance," he said wryly after a moment, earning him a grin from his brother.

You're right 'bout that...but what about the two people that were with you since I died?

"Raphael and Valon?"

There's nothing for you here anymore. Maybe finding them will give you that home that you're looking for. I know that—what's the really tall guy's name again...? Raphael, that's it. He's in France right now. If you hurry, you might find him.

Miruko was starting to fade away now, becoming almost translucent. Alister reached out in alarm. "Don't go!" he cried out.

I never have, Alister. The child vanished altogether from Alister's view.

Alister looked at the spot for the longest time, his eyes distant and his thoughts turning over and over in his head. Then without another word, he rose to his feet and began to walk slowly toward the train platform.

"France, huh...well, looks like I have something to do now," he said aloud, a small smile appearing on his face.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Paris, there was another young man who was wandering.

He, too, was wandering from place to place, but unlike Alister he had a purpose;at the moment he had put it on hold, navigating through territory that he was both familiar and at a loss with. Like Alister, he also stood out in a crowd; anyone who saw him would remember his appearance.

How many other people in the world were blond, over six feet tall and with a burly build, and wearing a purple duster with a dark tank top and pants?

Not very many.

For all anybody knew, this man was some random thug who'd take them down in a moment's notice. And there were definite whispers about what kind of man this tough looking person was. He even had a motorcycle parked a few feet away. Definitely someone who would kill at a moment's notice.

Actually, those guesses were horribly off. Raphael was actually quite gentle-natured when it all came down to it.

Raphael had returned home merely to revisit his old home; he had decided to do this task and then go on in his self-appointed mission to find his other two friends. After spending so much of his life already at DOOM with Alister and Valon, he was not quite ready to leave them behind yet.

His visit, however, was decidedly saddening. Unlike Alister's small hometown, which had remained unchanged, Paris had changed drastically since he had been a boy and even as an adolescent. Where there had been a coffee shop once, there was now a retail store. Fancy restaurants, fashion boutiques, and apartment complexes had taken over any of Raphael's pre-shipwreck places of memory, and he was actually quite lost—despite the fact that he had been here for a good week and a half.

And his appearance wasn't helping any; every time he tried stopping to ask for directions, people would look at him as if he was quite mad and hurry on their way.

It was not so hard to blend in, language wise; despite lacking an accent, he still remembered his native tongue and was utilizing it quite effectively. He knew that he could probably earn himself quite a few weird looks from Alister or Valon if they heard him speak in French. Well, at least Valon would at any rate; Alister would probably just raise an eyebrow. He smirked at the thought.

Thinking of those two also brought up a undesirable face, one that made the smirk disappear.

Dartz.

Raphael was still quite hurt over the betrayal, not to mention absolutely furious at the man. When he had been aching over his living relative's rejection as a teenager, that man had come and had comforted the troubled teen. He had taken him into the fold and had been Raphael's mentor. Alister had not trusted Dartz and Valon had hardly cared about the matter, but Raphael had trusted him the most.

But Dartz had orchestrated the entire thing. The shipwreck, the attack on the refugee camp, the burning down of the church...just to get the three of them into his employment. Raphael had often felt guilty as of late because he knew it had been because of him that his family was dead...

And he had nearly destroyed the entire world based off of his prejudice towards society. He still thought the world was a horrible mess, but at least now Raphael held no destructive power against it. He'd be happy to remain out of sight of society with his friends...if his friends wanted to stick together.

Shaking his head, he returned his thoughts back to what he had been doing. By now, he had traveled everywhere his memory had led him and had come to one conclusion: only three places of his childhood had remained intact.

Raphael's home had been sold ages ago. He had long since given up that home, however; with no Mother, Father, Sonia, and Julien there, the house was a mausoleum and living there would only be a living nightmare for him.

The second place—the one that made him uncomfortable even now—was the home of his living uncle and aunt. They had cast him out of the family, after Raphael had refused to agree to live with them. He had been flatly informed that if his wardrobe and "rebellious" outlook did not change then he would be made to leave; Raphael had not cared, understanding that his uncle had been only taken his nephew in because it would make the man look good. So he had been thrown out, and to be honest he was glad to be shot of them.

The third place that had resisted the flow of time was the cemetery where his parents and siblings were buried. He was rather reluctant to return to the cemetery and visit his family's graves, remembering all too well what had happened the last time he had been there.

"Raphael? Is that you?" called a woman's voice abruptly, breaking into his thoughts.

Blinking, he turned around in time to face a petite blonde haired young woman with striking blue eyes, similar to Raphael's. Her outfit was definitely on the fancy side: a long creme colored dress that bared her shoulders, complete with a silk shawl—and though she seemed to have aged slightly since he'd last seen her she was still recognizable.

Apparently, something similar was running through her head because she nodded knowledgeably and said, "I thought that was you, Raphael Knighton."

"...Hello, Aunt Edith," replied Raphael guardedly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What an interesting outfit you're wearing," she said condescendingly, taking in her nephew's appearance with a barely noticeable sneer on her face.

The blond man repressed a groan, recognizing the behavior with all too familiar irritation. His memories of his aunt definitely included her being stingy and a strict enforcer of societal obligations; how Lilith—his mother—and Edith had turned out so differently was beyond Raphael's understanding.

Judging by the way she was looking at him now Raphael knew that she had not changed at all since he had last seen her; if anything, she had grown more haughty than ever. "So, what have you been occupying yourself with for the past eight years or so, Raphael?" she asked, examining something on her hand.

Hmm, how should I phrase this..."I was going about trying to destroy the world by stealing the souls of the wicked that would have revived an ancient evil flying serpent and ended humanity as we knew it."

Raphael almost laughed aloud with the thought of his aunt's reaction.

"A little of everything," said the blond at length. He noticed the way the civilians passing by were watching the little "reunion" (Raphael smirked humorlessly at the word) take place. He knew good and well that everyone thought she was brave to stand up to what they would term as a hooligan. It had little effect on him, though—he was all too used to those looks by now.

"Hmm. I haven't heard anything about you in the news, so I can assume that you have been staying out of trouble?" she asked him patronizingly, and Raphael had to bite back an angry retort.

"Obviously. I haven't known you to be so considerate of my well being before, considering that you kicked me out."

"Because whether I like it or not you are still my nephew. Your parents espectable reputation that they upheld. If they saw you now it would likely make them turn over in their graves and weep."

He turned to face his aunt coldly, forcibly restraining himself from causing her harm. "I have a distinct feeling that if it's anyone my parents would be disappointed in, it would be you. But that's not who they were. They never turned their backs on what was really important—unlike someone I know."

Raphael decided that now would be the best time for him to leave and he turned to walk away. "Besides, Aunt Edith, my mother was your sister. No matter how much you disapprove of me, you can't change that fact either."

He had stayed here long enough, Raphael decided as he walked back to his motorcycle. It was time to move on. There was nothing for him here anymore, no ties to this city or country. But before he left Raphael had one last stop to make.

An hour later, Raphael's motorcycle stopped in front of an intricately made iron gateway. Above him, written in calligraphic style handwriting, was a single word: Cimetière.

Cemetery.

He had not been here in years and Raphael dreaded coming. Yet this was something he felt that he needed to do; if Raphael did not do it now, when would he be able to? He knew the likelihood of returning here was slim to none, so this was going to be his last chance to visit his family.

Raphael carried four roses that he'd bought from a nearby flower stand, walking a path that felt almost familiar to him; he had this path memorized and he could navigate through it with his eyes closed. His feet carried him to a small area of ground, set off from the rest of the cemetery near a barrier of shrubs. His eyes landed on four names, four tombstones set into the ground.

ROBERT KNIGHTON. LILITH KNIGHTON. SONIA KNIGHTON. JULIEN KNIGHTON.

A small plaque was placed in front of his family's graves and the inscription on it was in French:

Une famille bien-aimée qui a été prise beaucoup trop tôt.
Ils resteront toujours dans nos coeurs.

The bodies of his family had never been found, so his uncle had paid to have these graves made; Raphael had insisted on it being done after his rescue from the island. There was a small place that split them into two separate groups, a blue glass-spun vase set into the ground.

Raphael placed the roses he'd bought into the vase before backing away and sitting on the ground in front of the tombstones. "Sorry I haven't visited more. You know where I've been," he said aloud, a tired smile appearing on his face.

Raphael stayed for an indeterminate amount of time, just pondering on the way his life had been turning out thus far, occasionally saying something aloud to the silent graves. He thought about DOOM, he thought about his former family, and most of all he thought of his two friends.

Raphael rose to his feet half-reluctantly when the sun had left the sky. He didn't want to get escorted out by the night watchman. "I'll see you later," he said softly to them, slowly walking away.

Now that he had finished this particular task, Raphael knew it was time to resume his search for both Alister and Valon; he'd delayed long enough. Alister would prove the hardest to locate, seeing how as the aloof man could prove to be difficult to track. Valon was also offering up an unexpected challenge; the Australian had not remained behind in the beach house where the blond had left him, and despite Raphael's efforts the teen had not been found.

However, when he left the cemetery he was more than surprised to find a familiar red motorcycle next to his own. He was definitely startled out of his wits to see the owner of the bike.

"I've been wandering around all day looking for you. Good thing you haven't changed too much," commented Alister with a small smirk, his gray eyes unreadable. He seemed a lot more at peace with himself than he had when Raphael had seen him last, however, so that was a good sign.

"You don't look much different yourself," replied Raphael, mirroring Alister's smile.

Alister had only arrived just that day and had no living quarters established, so the two of them headed back to Raphael's hotel room where he had been staying. Once inside, they began relating what had happened to them over the past month or so since DOOM.

"So you went home yourself? How'd that go?" asked Raphael, recalling Alister's troubled past (well, more like the little he knew of it—Alister had never entirely told him everything about it).

The redhead shrugged slightly. "They've started rebuilding the town, but there are still a lot of things that need to be done. Even if they fix it, though, I don't think I'll ever live there again," Alister replied quietly. "You?"

"Heh. I should sell Hollywood the rights to turn my family into the next soap opera."

"Ahh...that bad, huh?" Alister smirked before looking around and asking, "I don't suppose Valon is with you?"

"No. Half hoping he'd met up with you," said Raphael wistfully. "Do you think he went back to Australia?"

"If he did, we're in trouble. I don't have enough money to get all the way to Australia and back," replied Alister with a frown. He had money saved up, but he knew that the trip would deplete him of a good portion of that money.

"I probably do, but I don't think he went back there," said Raphael quietly. "Nothing seemed to really tie him there."

"Is there any other place he could have gone to?" asked Alister.

"I left him and Mai at one of the beach houses that DOOM owned, but when I got back both of them were gone," Raphael said, running a hand through his hair wearily. "If anything, he either went with Mai or back to Australia—though, like I said before, he wouldn't head there. All he has waiting for him there is prison."

"He's not in Florida, as you've established."

"Yeah. I left a description of him with the state police. If they see him they're supposed to take him in and call me, but I don't think Valon will react kindly to that given his past with the police."

Alister frowned, looking thoughtful. "Then perhaps...perhaps we should go to Domino. You did mention that Valon might've gone with Mai, and she might have gone there to apologize to Jounouchi and his friends."

"If I know Mai, she probably left Valon behind before he woke up," Raphael grumbled, but he knew as well that it was the only option left to them.

He's there, Raphael. You need to go to Domino.

If it weren't for the fact that Alister had reacted to the voice as well by looking around the room, Raphael could have sworn he was insane: not very many people in the world, after all, heard their dead little sister's voice giving advice.

"Sonia?" he asked aloud uncertainly. The redhead's eyes widened in comprehension, realizing who the owner of the voice was. Although neither of the bikers could see the young girl, they definitely knew she was there.

We saw you today, Elder Brother.

Alister looked slightly perplexed. "What is your sister saying?" he asked.

Raphael looked over at him with a confused frown before realizing that Sonia was speaking to him in French. "She says that Valon is in Domino...and she saw me today," he replied quietly. "At the cemetery."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry I didn't visit you all sooner," said Raphael, reverting to his native tongue. As he had suspected, Alister's eyebrow shot up in interest. "And...I'm sorry about letting you down."

You were aching, Elder Brother. How do you know that we wouldn't have done something similar? This time, it was Julien who spoke, and as he had finished both of the two siblings materialized in front of their brother.

"I can guarantee that you two wouldn't have tried going beserk and soul-stealing," replied Raphael, still speaking in French.

How do you know? What happened to you could have easily happened to us. And besides, we all aren't upset with you. We understand. And we aren't ashamed to have you as our elder brother.

Hurry up, Raphael...

Raphael silently absorbed what they had said, knowing they had gone. They had told him the same thing when he had been freed from the Leviathan's grasp—his family still loved him and did not see him as a hooligan.

"In case you're curious, that was what happened to me when I went home. Miruko told me you were here."

Raphael looked over at Alister, realizing why he had looked so at peace with himself. "I don't exactly speak French, but I do gather that they said they forgive you. Am I wrong?" the red-haired man continued.

"...No." Raphael sighed, feeling both weary and happy as he spoke. "They did confirm that Valon is in Domino somewhere, so we should head there as soon as we're able."

"Raphael?"

"Yeah?"

"It's disorienting hearing you talk in French. You should do it just to scare Valon."

Not too long after Sonia and Julien had visited, both of the bikers packed their things away, checked out of the hotel (Alister had insisted on leaving ASAP, despite his exhaustion) and headed for the airport to catch the next available flight to Domino. As they drove through late-night Paris traffic, Raphael's thoughts wandered to the youngest member of their group.

Hopefully the boy had kept himself out of too much trouble...

As night fell over Domino the rising moon revealed a lone figure sitting on the docks, his yellow motorcycle behind him. He had come here in high hopes that maybe someone in the shipping industry would shuttle him back to Florida in the least. The young teen, however, had had not much luck in the matter. Most people who saw him were unsure of what to make of him.

He was obviously a boy, yet his cerulean eyes showed experience beyond his years. His face was framed by a pleuthora of fluffy brown spikes, shaped in a star shape behind his head and held back by a pair of biking goggles. He was clad in a red leather jacket, a white T-shirt, and a pair of black jeans.

Ah, but in the grand scheme of things who honestly cared about his age? Valon certainly didn't.

He had been here for about two days, his intentions for coming here vastly unknown. At first, Valon had debated on staying behind in Florida and waiting for Raphael, maybe even see if he could locate Mai; eventually he'd snuck onto a cruise ship that had taken him to Spain (entirely by accident, might he add—in his defense, he'd heard a rumor that Mai had been on the boat). After spending some time in Barcelona and participating in a few motorcycle races, he'd earned enough money to get him a plane ticket; he'd immediately bought one and had intended to head back to Florida, in hopes of finding Raphael or Alister.

As usual, though, his impulsive decision had left him in quite a fix. He soon figured out that the plane ticket would only get him as far as Domino; he'd bought the wrong flight. This had stranded him in Domino as a result and this was why he was sitting on the docks; he had no more money to take him back home and barely enough for food and gas for the motorcycle. His hope was that maybe one of the cargo ships would have mercy on him (and if push came to shove he'd stow away on a cruise ship again) but his efforts were, so far, in vain.

"Not even one bloomin' ship...you'd think they were tryin' t' avoid a fella, wouldn' ya?" he asked no one in particular. He wasn't exactly hoping for an answer but it would have been nice to get one, at any rate.

Unlike his friends Valon had no intention of ever returning to Australia; too many bitter memories drowned out what few good ones he had of his country. What sort of memories? Ah, let us count the ways...

First there had been the day when he'd been abandoned, when he was approximately four. Then came the next five years fighting to survive in the streets of the city, battling every kind of gang and bully under the sun and avoiding all the social workers. Then the one person who had actually cared for his well-being had been burned alive. Finally, there had been the whole, "get sent to jail for something I didn't do," stint.

Yeah. Real special memories, those.

Valon snorted aloud. The thought made him crack a smile and he declared, "Definitely Kodak moments. Should've bought m'self a camera when I 'ad the chance."

He sighed aloud, shaking his head in resignation. It was quite obvious by now that no one was going to come to the dock tonight; Valon had been sitting there long enought to establish that. Valon got to his feet and walked towards his motorcycle after brushing dirt from his pants, pulling his goggles down over his eyes as he went. Revving the engine he took off into the night, his thoughts wandering toward Alister and Raphael.

Valon knew that at least Raphael was worried out of his wits about him; knowing the blond he was searching for Valon right now. Back in DOOM the burly man had seemed to make it a personal mission to keep Valon out of trouble, as well as showing genuine concern for his well-being; after losing Mother Mary, it was a welcome surprise. He liked to think that Raphael was all right wherever he was at right now.

Alister, on the other hand, was a silent and annoying enigma. Neither he nor Valon could stand in a room together for thirty seconds without arguing. For all Valon knew Alister was probably halfway across the world in some highly unknown location that few people ever went to; Alister was almost like a freaking ninja, he thought wryly. The red-haired man was probably reveling in the solitude, wherever he was at.

They were never going to hear him admit it, but he missed Raphael and Alister. Had they moved on? Maybe Raphael had gone back to France; if he had, Valon could understand that. And Alister probably wasn't even bothered by the lack of company—knowing him, Alister was probably doing a victory dance at the thought of no annoying friends.

Valon quickly banished the thought of the redhead doing a jig from his mind, but it didn't stop him from cracking up loudly and nearly colliding with a mailbox. Forcing his laughter back, he returned his focus to the road to avoid any other accidents.

Since Valon had no money for a hotel room he had temporarily taken up residence in an abandoned warehouse somewhere downtown. True, he had to make sure that none of the local gangs saw him going in, but otherwise he was comfortable in the warehouse; he hadn't spent all those years on the streets twiddling his thumbs, after all.

He stopped the bike in front of the slide-open warehouse door and wheeled the vehicle in. When he had put the kickstand down, he turned around and blocked the door handle with a wooden broomstick; if he had a padlock he would have used it, but he made do with what he had.

His stomach chose at that moment to growl loudly and Valon looked down at it. "I know, I know...if life were fair, you wouldn' be growlin' and I'd be somewhere other than 'ere," he chided before realizing what he was doing. "Great, 'm talkin' to my stomach 'cause 'm lonely. T'riffic."

Throwing up his arms exasperatedly, he strode to the small mattress he had unearthed (it wasn't too lumpy and it looked almost new) and threw himself on it; he didn't even bother changing out of his clothes. His stomach growled again and he sighed in vexation, rolling over to look at the ceiling. "Hope you fellas 'ave it better than I do," he said tiredly before falling asleep.

Valon awoke sometime the next afternoon and yelped when he saw the time on his watch. "Aw f'r pity's sake!" he cried out. "I was s'pposed t' be at the dock hours ago!"

He sprang to his feet and pulled the sliding door open, hurrying to his motorcycle and pulling up his kickstand with a well-placed kick. Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, he revved the engine and shot forward, taking the almost memorized route to the docks automatically as he wove in and out of traffic. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed a man was watching the boy departing from the warehouse irritably. "Great, we've got a freeloader in our hangout," he muttered, already turning on his heel to gather his friends.

If Valon had been looking around he would have also seen two familiar motorcycles parked in front of a decent sized hotel.

He spent the entire afternoon once again at the docks, following after anybody that looked like a captain; there had to be at least ten ships at the dock today and he hoped that maybe his luck had taken a turn for the better. Unfortunately for Valon, not one of the captains were heading for Florida.

"Sorry, fella," apologized one captain after hearing Valon's question. "There's a hurricane happening on the coast right now. Nobody is shipping anything out or in until the storm passes."

"I getcha, mate. Thanks anyway," replied Valon with a forced grin, walking back to his bike dejectedly. He didn't bother pulling his goggles down, too depressed to even try. He got on his bike and just rode on, losing himself in his thoughts; he didn't want to have another long night having his stomach gnawing at his back, so he didn't go back to the warehouse yet. Finding that he couldn't concentrate on the road at the moment, he pulled over sometime later and flopped on the grass of a small hill.

"'ow the 'eck 'm I s'pposed t' get back t' 'em now?" he asked aloud, looking to the sky as if hoping for an answer.

Valon was heavily discouraged by now; there was nothing he could do at the moment. He supposed he could ask Jounouchi and his friends for help, but it was far too soon to confront Jounouchi and bring up old wounds that Valon was not yet ready to face—namely ones involving Mai.

Valon had first spotted her in a Duel Monsters catalog while in DOOM and had become instantly smitten with her. And the feeling had intensified greatly on that rainy night when he had first seen her in person. He had hardly dared to believe his luck. Right then and there he had challenged her to a duel, but Mai had not put too much heart into it, her mind occupied with something else. She lost the duel, after which she had promptly sank to her knees and begun to cry.

"I'm so tired...so tired of losing...I want to be strong..."

No sooner had she said that than Valon had immediately taken her straight to Dartz, hoping to grant her wish—and then...

He fell onto his back and watched the clouds idly drift by for a long time, focusing all of his attention on their shapes. Mother Mary had always made a game out of it, one that Valon would find himself doing without warning every now and then...that one there looked kinda like a rabbit...and that one looked like a dog with a bone in its mouth...

He suddenly felt an oddly warm presence and he looked over to see a transparent nun sitting next to him.

Valon yelped in surprise, sitting up and preparing to scramble away in terror. But the nun didn't appear to be bothered by the Australian's reaction, pointing up towards one of the clouds, and Valon lay back down where he was after a moment of hesitation. "Oh yeah...tha' one does kinda look like a turtle," he said aloud, laughing a bit. Mother Mary smiled but said nothing, continuing to point.

Valon stayed there until the sun had long left the sky, only climbing on his bike when the street lamps came on and the stars slowly began coming out. By then Mother Mary had gone, and Valon assumed that she had left while Valon was busy looking at the sky. Nonetheless, he smiled softly and said, "Thanks, Mother Mary."

He got back onto his motorcycle after a moment of silence, revving the engine and making his way back to the warehouse. He rode slowly for a change, weaving in and out of traffic and hardly paying attention to his surroundings. But two people in his surroundings had seen him and immediately took off in pursuit.

Valon knew something was wrong when he pulled his motorcycle into the alleyway and found that the warehouse door was wide open. Frowning, he got off his motorcycle set his helmet down on the seat and cautiously padded to the open door. "'Ello?" he called, peering into the darkened space. Not immediately getting a reply and wondering if he'd been paranoid, he advanced further into the warehouse.

The door immediately slid shut behind him and Valon realized that it had been a trap. His fighting instincts instantly set in, managing to elbow the assailant behind him in the diaphragm before a sudden light being turned on threw him off guard. He turned to face at least five teenagers carrying various weapons.

One of them—a burly looking teenager with black greasy hair and who was distinctly taller than Valon—stepped forward authoratively and said, "You're in our territory, punk."

"Well pardon me if I didn' know any better. 'S'not like you blokes posted any signs tha' said, 'Don' come 'ere, this's Idiot Territory," retorted Valon angrily, thanking himself silently that he had remembered to keep his possessions on the motorcycle outside.

The lead teen growled back, "So? You intruded here and you have to pay for it." He snapped his fingers with a wicked grin on his face. "Get 'im, boys!"

Valon was not afraid and leapt forward, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Despite his youthful appearance he had been involved in more than one fight and he used his height to his advantage as he had in the past; besides, all his pent up frustration could be released through a good old fashioned brawl. Ducking one fist he wheeled on his left heel and pivoted to the side, slamming his fist into the small of one kid's back before backpedaling to put the wall to his back.

Valon was unsure of how many times he knocked someone down—nor of how many blows he had received—but he suddenly felt a hard object collide with the base of his neck and he cried out in pain, unable to stop himself from falling forward and hitting the ground. "Good work, Boss!" Valon heard dimly, and he gasped as someone's foot suddenly connected violently with his back.

The gang gathered around him and instantly his instincts screamed Get up get up get up! Valon stumbled to his feet and took a few tottering steps to the nearest wall. His instincts were still screaming advice that Valon tried to follow, despite being semi-conscious; a blow to the head from earlier was only now starting to take effect. He wasn't even able to get to his feet before sinking back down with a hiss of pain and he slumped back wearily.

"Looks like this is the end of the line for you, Aussie," said the leader wickedly as he advanced to where he was curled against the wall. Valon watched with glassy eyes, still trying to regain his feet and his vision darkening.

"Don't you touch him!"

Valon forced himself to keep his eyes open, scanning the room wildly at the sound of the gruff voice. He looked up in time to see an entirely too familiar figure grab hold of one teenager and pull him backward. He heard a cry of pain from the left and Valon barely turned his head to watch as a red-haired young man put one of the offending gang members in an arm-lock.

Darkness was suddenly so much more appealing, and his eyes slipped closed.

He slowly felt his senses returning to him.

The first thing his mind registered was that he was obviously not dead; feeling pain was something that happened when you were alive and his luck certainly was not that bad.

Secondly, he was not sitting up in the corner of some dingy warehouse; he was lying on his side in what felt like a soft mattress, much better than that lumpy one he'd been using lately

The next thing that he realized was that his body hurt, and when he shifted he let out a muffled groan as his back flared in pain.

"Valon? Are you waking up?"

"Valon?"

After a moment to digest the fact that, yes, he had just heard their voices, Valon opened his eyes. Raphael's and Alister's concerned faces falling in and out of focus had to be one of the most welcome sights he'd ever seen. "'ey, fellas," he greeted with a weak grin. After his vision sharpened a bit, he managed to sit up with another groan. "It really is you."

"Who were you expecting? The Girl Scouts?" asked Alister sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, it's us. You haven't changed at all—still getting yourself into trouble, at any rate," Raphael replied tiredly, shaking his head with mock disappointment. His eyes, however, were letting the Australian know just how relieved he was to see him awake.

"Well, tha's a fine 'owdy-do. You're yellin' at me already," retorted Valon, playfully cuffing the blond's shoulder. Raphael smiled slightly but did not reply.

Valon turned his attention to Alister next and grinned widely. "I didn't think that I'd see you any time soon. You doin' alright, mate?"

"I'm fine, but do you want to explain why we found you fighting for your life in a warehouse?" replied Alister flatly, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Valon noticed that both of his former work partners had varying cuts and bruises scattered across their faces and hands, and he realized again that it hadn't been a dream when he'd seen them in the warehouse.

Valon shrugged, wincing as one of his injuries flared up. "Ah...um, 'ow do I put this...the blokes were mad at me for 'trespassin'' so they were tryin' to punish me. I 'ad 'em on the run!" he said defensively. "And 'eck, I didn' even start the fight this time!"

"Uh-huh." Alister rose a skeptical eyebrow. "I could practically see the terror on their faces as they beat the snot out of you."

"...Okay, so maybe I lost the advantage."

"Did you ever have it to begin with?"

"'ey! Be kind to a bloke, huh?"

At that moment Valon's stomach chose to growl loudly, reminding him of the fact he hadn't eaten in two days. "Erm...don' s'ppose you fellas got anything to eat, do ya?" he asked sheepishly, flushing embarrassedly as he scratched the back of his head. Raphael shook his head in amusement as he crossed over to the table in the room, returning moments later to give Valon an apple.

"You haven't been eating, it sounds like," he said with a small amount of concern, watching as Valon promptly took a huge bite out of the apple.

"I did couple o' days ago, but I was tryin' to save my money up to get back to Florida," he replied once he'd swallowed, swallowing and taking another bite out of the apple ravenously. "I ended up in Spain but got back 'ere t' find out I didn' 'ave 'nough money t' get back."

Alister exchanged surprised glances with Raphael. "Well that explains why you couldn't find him," he commented flatly before looking back to Valon. "It wouldn't have done you much good to go back there. Neither of us were in Florida."

Valon blinked in surprise before nodding. "I was 'fraid o' that. You two went 'ome, then?" he asked, this time noting the surprised looks that appeared on their faces.

"Yeah...it's been awhile since I visited France," said Raphael quietly. "A lot changed since I was last there—except for my distant relatives. They were about the same. I didn't entirely want to stay in the same city with them nearby, breathing down my neck about 'how to behave properly and like a true gentleman,'" he finished wryly.

"As for me...let's just go with 'I needed closure,'" Alister said, his eyes distant looking for a moment as he remembered something only he could see.

Valon looked at the apple in his hands for a moment before taking another bite out of it and chewing thoughtfully for a while. "So...'ow'd you two know where I was?" he asked at last. "I's not like I told anyone where I was, since I was in Barcelona f'r a bit."

"I'm going to have to ask you at some point about how you ended up there," Raphael said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We found you by process of elimination. You weren't in France, you don't know where I'm from, and I don't think you were too fond of Australia. That left here as being the only city you'd go to," replied Alister instantly. "Besides, Miruko told me where Raphael was and then Raphael's siblings told us you were here."

"Miruko...oh! Your brother? You saw 'im?" Valon asked with some surprise, vaguely remembering something Alister had mentioned about his dead younger brother.

"Yes. He was happy to see me."

That was probably all Alister would ever tell about the encounter with his brother, Valon knew. No point in wheedling the redhead about details, they would never come. "So after Miruko found me, I went to France...it's kind of funny, actually, listening to Raphael speak French," continued Alister wryly.

The corner of Raphael's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Why? Raph's from France," said Valon, not understanding. "So why would tha' be...funny..."

The sudden weird look he shot Raphael told them that he had gotten the message.

"Alister found me when I had finished visiting my family's graves," resumed Raphael. "And later last night Sonia and Julien paid a visit to tell us that you were in Domino. We got here this afternoon and looked around for you, but we didn't spot you until about two hours ago. Then we followed you back to that warehouse—you vanished around a corner, so we didn't figure out what happened until we back tracked."

"Your siblings, Raph?" asked Valon, a smile appearing. "Seems we all got somethin' in common—Mother Mary visited me today, too. She didn' say anythin', though. She jus' sat with me for a bit...I was kinda feelin' under the weather."

After that the three bikers began exchanging what had happened to them over the past month in full detail, stopping only long enough for Raphael to order some food for the starving Australian. They talked long into the night and actually into the early hours of morning before finally dropping off to sleep.

The following afternoon the three bikers checked out of the hotel (Valon insisted he could ride his motorbike in spite of his injuries) and stood next to their motorcycles hesitantly. "So...where do we go from 'ere?" asked Valon with a frown.

"We could go back to Florida," Alister pointed out. "But that would defeat the purpose of leaving what happened behind. And no point in trying to return to the DOOM temple—it did an Atlantis on us."

"...We could stay here."

The younger bikers looked at Raphael with surprise.

"Remember that safehouse we were staying in before we...'met' Yugi and his friends that night? As far as I know, it's still vacant and everything's paid for," said Raphael with a shrug. "It would certainly beat traveling around."

"But you just pointed out somethin' out—Yugi and the Pharaoh're here, Raph," Valon stated.

"So is Jounouchi and Kaiba," said Alister, an amount of reluctance in his voice at the mention of Kaiba's name.

There was a long and thoughtful silence.

"Aw, what the 'eck. I'm game," said Valon with a huge grin. "Why not? There's not a rule forbiddin' us t' live here."

"If things don't work out, then we can always find somewhere else to go," said Alister, a small smile appearing on his face.

Raphael nodded, putting his helmet on and getting on his motorcycle. The other two quickly followed suit and followed Raphael out of the hotel parking lot.

Unseen by the bikers was a group of people who watched them from across the street. No one really noticed them, come to think of it—they were invisible to all passerby.

"They'll be fine," said a red-haired young woman, fondly watching the figure on the red motorcycle. A small child waved at the figure happily from his position on a tall copper-haired man's shoulders.

"I know they will," said a Catholic nun, a slight trace of an Australian accent in her voice. She currently had her eyes on the boy riding a yellow motorbike, a gentle smile on her face.

"I believe that as well," responded a tall brunette man, his arm draped around a blonde woman's waist. Two small children were mimicking the little boy and waving to the man atop of the black motorcycle.

They watched them disappear from view before vanishing entirely.

Aww...it's finished.

So, betcha you're wondering what was on Raphael's family grave, weren't ya?

The rough translation of it is this:

"A family that was taken much too soon
They will always remain in our hearts."

Kohaku out.