This is another stand-alone fic, following the timeline of my other biker boy oneshots but not having the same timeline as "The Return." Originally, I meant for this one to go in my story, "Come Together," but by the time I finished it I realized that it was too long to go in there and figured, "Why not have it be a separate oneshot?"

The idea was inspired by both a story I read somewhere (I really wish I could tell you what it was; it was the skeleton I had to writing this thing) and a conversation that a friend and I had regarding Valon's past. For those of us who are new to my work: this is non-yaoi, no flames, and Misa first is mentioned in my oneshot "Surprise" and continues to appear throughout my other story "Come Together."

Rally ho ho, and away we go! (A prize to the person who knows where that phrase came from :D)

He had no idea what had just happened.

He vaguely remembered getting on an elevator with Valon, needing to get to the top floor of the parking garage so they could go home; they'd been at the mall, and they'd needed to get something that he wasn't able to recall at the moment. Raphael had stayed behind, realizing he'd left his wallet on a nearby table. The blonde had told them to go ahead and meet him upstairs, and after Valon had initially balked at getting on the elevator the two of them were on their way.

It happened while they were heading up to the top floor to leave.

Without a warning at all, the elevator abruptly plunged downward. There was no time to react or yell out; both of the young men were stunned at what was happening. The sound of screeching metal drowned out any coherent thought and the two bikers found that they were actually lifted into the air for a brief second before the elevator smashed into the ground.

Alister was not sure what happened after that, because he had been knocked unconscious.

Now that he was awake and remembering what happened, he decided to try and find out what their situation was.

Alister coughed as the dust flew in the air and tried to look around him. It seemed that all the lights had been shattered on impact; it was pitch black around him. He cautiously began feeling for the doors and, once he found them, felt them with his hands. The doors, from what he could tell with a sinking heart, were so badly bent and buckled that it would be impossible to open.

"Valon?" he asked, realizing that he hadn't heard the brunette since he had regained consciousness. "Valon, are you awake?"

When he got no answer, the redhead got to his hands and knees and carefully began to feel for the teen with his hands. He hissed softly as his fingers encountered glass and pricks of pain ignited along his fingertips. "Valon?" he asked again, squinting in the darkness.

Abruptly, a few pinpoints of light edging the elevator in various intervals flickered to life; it was barely any light, but at least Alister could make out shapes in the semi-darkness.

He was near the right corner of the demolished elevator when he found Valon. From what he could tell in the dim light, Valon was curled in the corner, knees pulled to his chest. He contributed that to the fact they had descended five floors in less than three seconds and knelt beside him. "Valon, are you all right?"

No answer.

"Valon, answer me," said Alister sharply, not liking the silence.

The brunette was not acting himself. The stoic redhead knelt beside Valon, setting his hand on his shoulder; underneath his palm, he could feel the teenager quivering. As his eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness, he could barely make out the younger teen's body—and he disliked the fact that Valon was as stiff as cardboard.

Something was wrong, decided Alister in that instant. Something was horribly wrong.

"It's kinda small, innit."

Valon's words were spoken with a precise, carefully neutral voice—the tone was what one would take right before they burst into hysterics. Come to think of it, the teen's breathing was also off; he hadn't noticed it before because he had been investigating his surroundings. The boy's breath was coming in quick, ragged gasps.

In conclusion: Alister did not like where this was leading.

"I 'ave to get out of 'ere."

The panic in his voice was unmistakable this time, and Alister saw the teen rise. The pitch in his breathing had increased, and Alister could see the teen visibly trembling.

Please tell me that he is just acting like this because we fell down so fast, thought Alister, worry creasing his brow. "Valon?" he said again.

"I can' stay here! I 'ave to get out!"

The teenager sprang to his feet, knocking Alister off his knees and against the wall. He began to pound the walls with his fists, then progressed to ramming into them with his whole body. With every passing second, Valon seemed to panic further.

Alister listened in stunned disbelief. He had never seen Valon this panicked before, not even back in DOOM. The brunette was emotional, yes, but he had never lost his perky and cheerful demeanor before to exchange it for this fearful, near-hysterical attitude.

But that was under different circumstances, and this was anything but normal.

It was official: unless it had changed in the past hour, Alister was confident he was looking at the textbook definition of claustrophobia.

He growled as he watched Valon's struggles. If the brunette kept up with what he was doing, he would end up seriously hurt. Alister had heard that people with strong phobias could easily hyperventilate and stop breathing altogether, and the idea that Valon would possibly experience this was not appealing to him in the slightest. He reached his hand out in the darkness and by sheer luck caught Valon's wrist. He tugged Valon close to him and held him around the waist.

"Lemme go!" shouted Valon abruptly, fear lacing his voice. His hands were prying at Alister's, fighting to get loose. "LET ME GO, ALISTER!"

The redhead was having nothing of it; making sure his grip was firm but not enough to hurt Valon, he dragged him away from the wall and sat down back in the corner where they had been before, Alister pulling Valon down to the ground beside him.

The fight seemed to have left Valon at that, for he made no further attempt to get up once again. However, he pressed himself even further into the corner and drew his knees to his chest once again. Alister felt a brief wave of relief, but worry replaced it once again when he felt Valon's body shaking and trembling body alongside him.

"Valon—"

The Australian looked up at Alister, his eyes burning with fear in the dim light. His next words were almost incoherent with panic and his voice was rising in pitch. "No one knows we're 'ere, they won't know where t' look, we'll never get found—!"

"Valon, get a grip!" yelled Alister suddenly, hoping the shock of his voice would bring Valon back to the present. "This is not the time or the place to panic. We need to stay calm and think. Do you have your cell phone with you?"

The other biker did not immediately reply; he was still trembling and shaking violently, and his breathing was bordering on hyperventilation. Alister began to worry that the teenager was lapsing into shock and he asked the question in a firmer voice.

"…My phone is on me bike," said Valon in a clipped tone at last, and it was immediately obvious that the brunette teenager was forcing his fear down and desperately trying to remain calm. "D'you 'ave yours?"

"No. It's charging at the house," said Alister, irritation flying through him briefly at that fact. "We've got no way to contact Raphael—or anyone else—at the moment."

Valon made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed sob.

Under most circumstances Alister might tell the teen to get a grip, to focus on their situation and to quit acting like a baby. But the gray eyed man took one look at the teenager and knew that particular option was out.

Because the fact of the matter was that Valon was scared. Not nervous, not uneasy—the boy was terrified and he needed comfort, not sharp criticisms.

Alister moved closer to the teen, sitting down beside him and hesitantly placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, unused to outwardly showing emotion. Valon jerked at the contact and he let out a shuddering breath; underneath Alister's hand, he stiffened and then slightly relaxed.

"Valon, just try to stay calm. I know that this is not the best situation that we are in right now, but we will get out. When people realize that the elevator broke and there's people trapped in here, they'll do everything they can to help us," said Alister in a soothing tone.

Valon said nothing, but the tension in his body lessened and he slightly relaxed. "Y-you sure, mate?" he asked shakily, the edge in his voice blunted but not entirely gone.

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure. They'll be along any minute now."

There was another long pause.

"You all right, chum?"

Valon's voice sounded strained and tired, but there was a shadow of his old cheerfulness in his tone that told the older biker that his young friend was attempting to remain calm.

"You first. Are you all right?" said Alister in reply, ignoring the growing pain that was beginning to travel up his leg.

"…Jus' dandy," muttered Valon, still faintly trembling. Alister wondered how long Valon had been hiding his fear from the other two bikers; all three of them had their own secrets, but he had never thought that Valon would have something to hide from his associates. "Why does it have to be so dark in here?"

Alister suddenly remembered something important, and his hand went into his pocket. Much to his annoyance, what he was looking for was no longer there. He got onto his knees shakily, repressing a groan as pain suddenly lanced his leg. It was beginning to hurt worse than it had initially, but he ignored it due to the sudden realization. "Valon, help me look on the floor," he said, biting back a groan as his weight fell on his hurt leg.

"What're we lookin' for?" asked Valon as he too fell to searching.

"Something smooth and pen-shaped."

"Wha's that?"

"A flashlight. I was using it to look at the fusebox last night when the power went out."

There were a few more ensuing moments of silence before a triumphant cry from Valon told Alister that the light had been located. "Let's shed some light on the situation 'ere, eh?" he asked, genuine joy in his voice.

In the next moment the elevator was lit up with a brighter light, and Alister got a face full of it. The redhead turned his head away from Valon to avoid the sudden brightness. "I rather like being able to see," he said flatly, squinting against the assault on his eyes. He frowned, noticing that there was crimson paint all over the floor; where on earth had it come from?

Valon was not looking at Alister's face; his gaze was looking down toward the redhead's leg. "Hey Alister… how badly does your leg hurt?" the teenager asked carefully, his eyes locked on where they had fallen.

"Pretty bad, but I don't think it's broken," he admitted, wincing as his leg throbbed painfully. "Why do you ask?"

"Mate, you might not wanna see your leg at the moment," warned Valon as he hurried forward to try and block Alister's view of his leg. But he did not move fast enough, because Alister looked down to see what the teenager had.

He realized then that the crimson liquid on the floor was not paint.

Sticking out of Alister's leg, down by his ankle, was what looked like an eight-inch shaft of metal. He had not been wearing his customary boots (he'd been wearing a pair of tennis shoes today; no one said he always had to wear boots, and he disliked dress shoes) and the metal had gone clean through his leg.

Alister could not tell if the metal had splintered inside of the injury, but he did know that the piece had to be removed before any metal flakes got into his blood stream; at the same time, he was aware that to remove it would possibly cause more damage. The metal had to be as thick as his wrist; he was lucky it hadn't gone through his bone.

Mainly to reassure Valon, he forced out a dark chuckle. "Well that certainly puts a damper on things."

"Aw, mate…that don' look too good," the younger biker said, worry creeping into his voice.

The Australian bit his bottom lip, not liking anything of what had happened. He was trapped in a small, previously dark place, Alister was hurt badly, and the monstrous fear within him was clawing to escape.

Nonetheless, he was immensely surprised by the fact that Alister was not in much pain and was eyeing the wound quite calmly (though he had paled a bit). Valon attributed that to the fact the other biker had lived through a war and was probably used to seeing blood

"We're gonna 'avta get tha' out," he said now, his voice slightly shaking.

The redhead shook his head slowly as he stared at the wound. "Removing it may not be an option, but I'll need a knife to tell me for certain."

Valon blinked. "Why d'ya need a knife?"

"Because yanking on this won't help us in the long run—it'll make it worse."

"Wait 'alf a moment. Don' you 'ave a pocket knife?"

"No. I broke it the other day."

"Doin' what?"

"I was going to use it to slit my wrists and take pictures, but Raphael found out that I was being an emo kid and he snapped the blade in half."

Valon stared back at him in shock. "…You were?"

"No, stupid. I actually broke it fixing the microwave—I couldn't find a screw driver."

In spite of everything that happened and of the oppressive walls around him, Valon found himself laughing a bit. It felt slightly good to laugh—he needed to relieve some of the pressure right now.

Alister felt relief as well. With the flashlight in hand and its soft glow in their small prison, Valon had returned to his old cheerful personality; it was much better than the nearly panicked and terrified teenager that had been down there with him minutes ago.

"Valon, do you have a pocket knife on you?" asked Alister, shifting his position to allow comfort for his aching leg.

"Nope. It broke awhile ago, too. I didn' 'ave a chance to replace it yet…but maybe…'ang on," Valon said abruptly, shining the light along the floor quickly. Alister had no idea as to what the teenager was up to, but before he could ask Valon let out another cry of triumph. "I knew it!" he crowed.

"Knew what?" asked Alister.

"Well, I reckon 'at if you had a piece of metal in your leg that there 'ad to be 'nother shard like it somewhere 'round 'ere," said Valon gleefully, carrying his prize back to where Alister was sitting.

Alister took the shard wordlessly, noting with relief that it was going to be the right kind to attempt what he was thinking of doing. Carefully, he cut away the pant-leg around the metal to get a better look at what was lodged in his leg. Alister frowned when he saw how deep it was in there and glanced at the metal in his hand. It was slightly rusted, not able to be used for what he would need. He looked back up at the teen. "I don't think I can remove this."

"Why not? You can' just leave it in there!"

"I can't pull it out either. If I try to, it may nick an artery and then what will we do?" replied Alister in a strained voice, his eyes closing unwillingly. The injury was starting to pain him now, throbbing madly and aching. "For now, I'm going to have to bandage it up and hope nothing dislodges it before the paramedics get here."

Valon frowned, looking down at the profusely bleeding injury. If nothing was done to stop the blood, there was going to be a lot of trouble down the line. After a moment of debate, he ripped the bottom of his shirt off and began wrapping it around the shard where it stuck out.

A muffled cry made Valon pause, however, and glance over at Alister from the corner of his eye.

The redhead's eyes were closed, his jaw was clenched tightly and his hands balled into fists. It was quite obvious that Alister was fighting to remain still and quiet; he was in a lot of pain—that much was for certain. It was probably because Valon was wrapping his shirt around the wound and the area was tender. "Are you almost done?" asked the older biker between clenched teeth, his eyes remaining closed.

"Yeah…just a sec'nd, mate…there. All done!" announced the boy cheerfully, cushioning the metal as best as he could so as not to jostle it. He gawked at the wound with morbid fascination. "You prob'ly never 'ad an injury like this b'fore," he remarked, tilting his head.

"Actually, during the war, I was shot in the side once while I was looking for some food supplies. I had to dig out the bullet by myself," Alister replied tiredly.

"Well that sounds…painful."

Alister laughed hollowly. "You have no idea. And when you're doing it alone…" he trailed off, confident that Valon understood the unfinished part of that sentence. He gathered himself together and tried to rise to his feet. Abruptly, a white-hot flash of pain flew up his leg and Alister hissed in pain.

"Alister? Whatsa matter?"

"I think that this wound is worse than I thought," he replied, gingerly setting his wounded leg down on the ground. The slightest weight on it sent agony shooting up his leg.

Valon hesitated before setting the flashlight down on the ground. He came along side of Alister and slipped one of his arms over his shoulder. "Let's get you away from 'ere and somewhere comfortable," said the Australian, helping Alister hobble across the floor and away from the bloody puddle.

When Valon had gotten Alister comfortably settled on the other side of the elevator, he returned for the small flashlight and shone it on Alister's leg. Blood was already visible through the material, but at least it was better than watching the wound bleed out.

"We need to take off my shoe," said Alister tiredly. "If it is sprained the swelling will cut off the blood supply to my ankle in a few minutes. I'll get it this time," he continued, carefully bending forward to his ankle and slowly removing his shoe.

The flashlight flickered then and Valon stiffened in alarm. "Tell me tha' was my imagination."

Alister looked over at the younger man. His face had once more paled, and he looked decidedly more nervous than he had earlier, when the light was strong and unwavering. Frowning, he mutely reached for the light and turned it off.

"Alister!" The voice was a high squeak.

"Bear with me for a moment," said Alister, turning the light on again. He repeated this experiment several times before he said, "Valon, I think it's safe to say that we're going to lose the light here in about an hour, maybe less."

The teenager just stared back at him, fear dancing in his cerulean eyes. "We've gotta get outta 'ere 'fore then," he said jerkily, all traces of his care-free attitude gone.

Alister looked up at the ceiling of the elevator, silently thinking. He knew full good and well that if the light was taken away Valon would completely lose whatever control of his fear he had managed to gain, but he had no idea how to get more light into their prison; the emergency lighting was utterly useless.

Wait. Maybe…it might work…

"Valon, can you set the light down? I have an idea," he said, trying to rise to his feet again. The pain that shot through his leg forced him down to one knee.

Valon was immediately by his side, his eyes flickering with concern for Alister and fear of their surroundings. "Alister, you might wanna stay down," said Valon worriedly.

"No. I have an idea that might get us out of here," he retorted, leaning against the wall for support.

"So…what's your plan, Alister?" asked the Australian, following after Alister as he limped into a spot cleared of rubble.

"I'm going to lift you on my shoulders—don't look at me like that, Valon—and you're going to try to find the ventilation graft in the ceiling. I'm tall enough to get you about halfway up; we might be able to get you out of here, at least."

"But Alister, your leg's 'urt and you can' even put weight down on it. And even if I get out, what 'bout you? Who's gonna get you out?"

"I'll be a lot better down here than you will when the light goes out."

A very long pause followed this statement. "I don' like this idea, Alister," Valon said finally.

"I wasn't aware I was giving you a choice."

"…All right. I'm game," said Valon in resignation.

Alister cupped his hands in a stirrup, holding them towards Valon. With a sigh, the teenager reluctantly put his foot into his friend's hands and carefully clambered up onto Alister's shoulders. Beneath him, he heard a compressed hiss of air as their combined weight came on top of Alister's injured leg. "You all right down there, chum?"

Alister grunted in response. "Don't plan on living up there. The property's not for sale."

Valon nodded once, unsure if Alister could see him, and then began feeling for the exit above his head. He found it and shook his head in resignation. "Alister, it's not gonna work. The thing's jammed tight."

"…All right…" groaned Alister. "I'm going to let you down slow and—"

But in the next instant Valon heard a muffled moan and the support on his feet gave out.

Valon yelped as he fell, knowing that Alister was beneath him and he was too hurt to move out of the way. He was going to land on top of the redhead and there was not much he could do about it. The teenager heard Alister grunt in pain as the older man intercepted him and they hit the ground.

They both sat there in the dimly lit area, watching the dust settle mutely before Valon climbed off of Alister and turned to face him.

Alister's face was contorted into pain and it was paler than before, but there was an unreadable look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said at length, hobbling to where he had previously been sitting.

Valon blinked. "You're sorry? F'r what?" he asked incredulously, following after him. "You didn' do anythin' wrong."

"I dropped you."

"Alister, c'mon, mate. You've got a bum ankle. And if you wanna blame yourself for tha', then at least think of catchin' me as a way t' make up f'r it," said Valon, determined to take Alister's mind off of what had happened.

He blinked as he realized something. "I get it now."

"What?" asked Alister heavily, looking over at him.

"Why you had me help you with your leg. You did that t' keep m' mind off o' where I'm at right now, didncha?"

The redhead looked over at him. "You finally figured it out, then," he remarked. He shook his head wearily, leaning backward until his head touched the wall behind him. "I was worried that you would lapse into something a little more serious than a panic attack. I hoped that you would be so focused on helping me that you would, temporarily, forget about where we were."

Valon smiled over at him earnestly. "Thanks, chum."

"No problem. I had to do something…I just didn't want to see you panicking the way you were," replied Alister, returning the look evenly. "It was annoying, to say the least."

The flashlight flickered and Valon watched it nervously. "Alister?"

"Hm?"

"…You scared of anythin'?"

Alister looked over at Valon, saw his paling face, and understood what Valon was really asking him to do. He pondered on the Australian's question for a long moment before he answered carefully, "I'm not afraid of too many things."

"But ya do 'ave somethin' that you're 'fraid of?"

Alister was silent once more as he thought about Valon's earnest question. This turn in the conversation was due, perhaps, to the fact that Valon was trying to keep his mind off of their situation; however, it was rare that Alister opened up to either Valon or Raphael.

"…I'm afraid of heights," replied Alister at last, fixing Valon with a steady gaze.

Valon blinked in surprise. "Wait a moment…heights? Alister, we 'ad t' drop outta 'n airplane t' the ground below, I know you 'ave a pilot's license, and you dueled Kaiba on top o' a plane…Alister, I don't believe it!"

Alister regarded him with mild amusement. "But you saw proof."

"What? When?"

"Gurimo's duel against the Pharaoh. Didn't you notice that I was furthest one from the edge of the railing? And if you still don't believe me, ask Raphael. He knows a lot more about this than you realize."

Valon stared over at him disbelievingly. Alister shrugged.

"I always thought you would be afraid of anything that makes exploding noises," said the teenager after a minute-long pause.

"I dislike anything that goes 'boom', that's true, but in the end there really is no reason to be afraid of it," said Alister quietly. "When you grow up in a warzone, you tend to get used to it."

"Oh…"

"Your turn. And don't tell me that you aren't scared of anything—even a blind man can tell that there's something you're afraid of."

It was Valon's turn to be silent now. After a long hesitation, he said softly, "I think you can tell what I am 'fraid of, with what you've seen an' all."

"You're claustrophobic?"

"…Kinda."

The flashlight flickered again, and Valon watched it tensely. When it did not go off, he relaxed slightly and said, "I's not tha' 'm 'fraid o' the dark, and 'm not 'fraid o' small spaces—it's jus' when they're together that I get a little…well, y'know."

"So you don't like small, dark places?" said Alister. "But you were fine whenever had to get on an elevator before this, and then when I locked you in the closet," he continued. "How come you didn't panic then?"

But that's not right, he though suddenly. Valon had looked uneasy whenever asked to take the elevator; he had always asked to take the stairs, which was why he was the last one to arrive at any of the meetings. And the morning that Raphael had found Valon in the closet, the boy had been pale and actually had fear in his eyes before it vanished.

Alister had just never put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"I never took the elevator, chum. You weren' all that friendly back in DOOM with me, so you prob'ly never noticed. 'n' the time with the closet, it was all righ' b'cause I figured you fellas wouldn' leave me in there forever," replied Valon a moment later, confirming Alister's thoughts.

A sudden realization hit the red-haired biker. "You aren't afraid of being locked in a small space…you get scared because you think no one knows you're there."

Valon nodded, his eyes unreadable in the dying light. "You've really got no idea wha' tha's like…t' get locked into someplace all alone and be ignored, no matter 'ow long you shout or 'ow 'ard you bang on the door." His voice was haunted and full of pain.

Alister did not need much further of a hint than what he got then.

He knew exactly what the teenager was talking about.

To confirm his thought, he glanced over at Valon, who gave him a mute nod. "It wasn' too bad at first. Since I was jus' an anklebiter, the guards always took it a little bit easier on me. I'd already 'ad a problem with small places, so they never left me in solitary f'r long."

Alister frowned. "Solitary confinement?"

Valon gave a weak chuckle. "You've seen how I fight—I kick the tar outta people. 'N' in jail, you get all sorts of sickos and thugs tryin' to 'urt ya one way or 'nother."

Alister felt his stomach clench at Valon's words. "Did any of these men…succeed in that?" he asked carefully, confident that the other biker understood the real question being asked.

"No," the boy snarled, his facial expression hard. "It on'y took one bloke gettin' beaten up with a loose bedpost f'r everyone t' learn I wasn' gonna let 'em do that."

After a moment of tense silence, Valon's face softened and he sighed deeply. "See, I got into a lotta fights, mainly tryin' to save m' skin. The guards…well, they got righ' tired of that. So one day, they marched me straight to solitary after one o' my fights, put me in a strait jacket, and left me alone in the dark. I was pretty banged up, so I didn' quite 'ear how long they were gonna leave me in 'ere."

Valon closed his eyes, tilting his head so that he was leaning against the wall. "I kept waitin' for 'em to let me out…Lord knows 'ow long I waited…and then I realized that they weren' gonna. They left me in sol'tary f'r the rest of my time a' jail—which was 'nother year 'n' a 'alf."

Alister was appalled. "They didn't let you out of that room?"

"Nope. They 'ad to once, when I got really, really sick; they on'y figured 'at out when they didn' 'ear me yellin' for 'em to let me out," replied Valon, his accent thickening as he looked over at Alister. "They told me later that it was lucky I was in a strait jacket—I'd nearly dislocated both my shoulders tryin' to get out."

He could not find anything to say.

"It's not like I asked to be afraid of these small places…but, that fear never left and—well, here we are at square one. I try to pretend like it's nothin', 'n' I keep tryin' t' tell myself that gettin' on an elevator isn' the same as being locked in a jail cell, but…'m still a big bloomin' coward if I get locked away somewhere," said Valon heavily, gesturing around him in a sweeping movement.

"You're wrong," growled Alister, finding his voice at last.

While the teenager stared at him in surprise, the redhead rose to his feet, limped to where Valon was sitting and sat down heavily beside him. Hesitating for a moment, he placed a hand on Valon's shoulder.

"Courage is not the ability to defy death and do stupid stunts to prove your worth. Nor is courage pretending to be unafraid of anything. Courage is the ability to acknowledge you're scared and try to do something about it."

Valon mutely continued to stare, speechless. Encouraged by that fact, Alister continued.

"It's perfectly acceptable to be afraid of something—everyone in the world has some sort of fear or worry that cripples them. You're no different from me, Valon."

"But you don't panic like I do," replied Valon, frowning. "You actually keep your wits about you."

"That's because I was confronted with a situation that required me to overcome my fears. Once you meet something scarier than what you were afraid of, you find that your fear is nothing compared to what could happen. Raphael told me that once…"

Alister trailed off, remaining silent for a moment. To be honest, he had lied about what he had been most afraid of; though he was afraid of heights, his worst fear in the world was that somehow, some way, he would end up alone again. That was why he had sought after Raphael and Valon—because he needed people around him.

"So…what you're sayin' is that it's all right for me to be a coward?"

Alister looked back at the Australian. "Not exactly, no. What I mean by that is that I think that to admit you're afraid is the bravest thing you can do. The next step after that is to overcome that fear. You can't really do that overnight, but if given time you can at least make that fear tolerable."

Another long silence passed between the two, this time slightly more comfortable than before.

"Alister…thanks."

It was all Valon said, and the other biker didn't need him to elaborate any further than that. Alister remained silent, but the hand on Valon's shoulder tightened briefly—he knew his gesture was understood.

"Yeah well…it sounded really cheesy, though. I'm no good at these sort of things; Raphael could probably tell you, verbatim, what I said, and it would sound infinitely better than me saying it," Alister retorted with a raised eyebrow. Valon chuckled, but said nothing.

Alister sighed, letting his gray eyes travel around the elevator. They landed on the front left corner, and he was about to look elsewhere when he saw the button panel.

He felt like an idiot for not looking there sooner.

"Valon, we do have a phone," said Alister, a hint of excitement in his voice.

The brunette looked over at him in surprise. "Wha'…where?" he asked in confusion, looking around him. "I thought you said—"

"The elevator has a call button," Alister said, pointing to the button panel. "They have it there just in case the elevator gets stuck or, in our case, breaks."

A grin slowly split Valon's face. "You mean…?"

"Yep. If it works, we can get out of here."

"You two are lucky you didn't end up dead," said Raphael sternly, his eyes betraying his relief.

"Yeah well…'s'not like we asked the bloody thing t' drop us like that any'ow," retorted Valon playfully, cuffing Raphael's shoulder lightly.

The phone in the elevator had still worked, even after the beating the elevator had gone through, and before that point a woman who had been passing by there at the time had heard the elevator crash. She'd called maintenance, and they'd been on their way to getting to the elevator below when Alister had discovered the phone and sent out a distress call. This had hastened rescue efforts, and within minutes of the call the two bikers were out of the shaft.

The three bikers were at home once more, after the stressful events of the day had passed. The hospital had allowed Alister home, explaining that the redhead's injury wasn't severe enough to warrant an overnight stay; though he did have to keep off his injured leg, at least nothing had broken. They'd barely avoided the news reporters that had shown up minutes after Alister was on the way to the hospital.

No one was quite sure how the elevator had broken, but though an immediate cause wasn't apparent the bikers had heard rumors that the elevator had been long overdue for maintenance repair; it was suspected that the cables had been fraying and then had simply broken after being used one too many times.

The older blonde sighed, looking to where their injured friend was resting on the couch. "How's your ankle, Alister?"

The redhead, deeply immersed in a book, looked up at him a few seconds after the question had been asked. "I can see why House likes Vicodin," he said, dipping his head to where his bandaged ankle was propped on the pillow.

Raphael relaxed, smiling a bit at the reference. "Don't get too used to that stuff," he said. "You'll have to walk on that ankle eventually, and the damage isn't permanent anyway."

"'Sides, I don' reckon you wanna walk around with a cane. It doesn' seem like somethin' you would do," said Valon cheerfully, his blue eyes showing no signs of the distress that he'd gone through that afternoon.

Alister snorted. "As far as you know. Who knows? Maybe I could use a cane, if only to hit you with it."

"Well, yeah, s'ppose tha's a good—'ey."

Raphael laughed at the scowl that appeared on Valon's sake. "It certainly seems like you two are better than earlier," he stated, relieved that neither of his friends had been injured worse.

"Anythin's better than tha' wretched elevator," said Valon darkly, his scowl vanishing as he looked to the kitchen. "I'm off t' get me some more o' tha' ice cream."

The two older bikers watched with mild amusement as the boy bounded off into the kitchen with his bowl in hand. Raphael waited until the Australian was out of sight before he looked back at Alister. "Seriously, though…are you all right?"

Alister nodded. "It's one of those things that looks worse than it feels. It's hard to believe that this all started because we needed a new coffee maker," he replied.

Raphael was quiet for a moment before he said, "I should have gone with the both of you."

The redhead, who had been about to begin reading the book again, looked back up at the blonde with a scowl of his own. "And do what, exactly? Get stuck in the elevator with us?" he inquired.

"No, but…I overheard one of the maintenance workers on my way back to the mall. They'd been talking about the elevator; I could have called you both and warned you not to get on it," said Raphael quietly.

The other biker set his book down, frowning at the older blonde. "You couldn't have known we would take the elevator. Besides, I didn't know Valon was claustrophobic—if anything, I should have listened to him and taken the stairs."

Raphael shook his head. "I'm just glad that both of you got out of that mess with just a few bumps and, in your case, cuts," he said gratefully.

"Join the club," said Valon, popping back into the room with a cheerful smile on his face. He flopped into a vacant armchair, ice cream bowl in hand. Misa abruptly appeared, meowing loudly and hopping up into Valon's lap. The Australian looked over at his older friends and said, "I reckon that we fellas 'ave a big target painted on our backs—we keep runnin' into trouble. First Raph's car accident, then this…what else could—?"

"Don't finish that sentence!" said Alister and Raphael at the same time, shooting Valon identical alarmed looks.

Valon looked startled at the outburst, then held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "All righ', all righ', I won' jinx us," he said in resignation, looking back down at his ice cream. He let out an indignant yelp. "Misa, you darn cat!"

The feline looked back up at Valon calmly before resuming her previous task of licking at the ice cream, purring all the while. The brunette growled, hitting his head with an open palm. "Tha's what I get f'r temptin' Fate," he sighed, shaking his head at the cat and glaring at her.

Raphael chuckled at the sight, and Alister allowed an amused smile on his face. It seemed like things were back to normal.

…Well, for now, at any rate.