I'm back! This is my first story in five years, and my first post on here. This is un-beta'd so I'm sorry for any mistakes, I have been working on this when I should have been sleeping - _ -.

Can be set anytime that the party is all together towards the end of the first chapter of the game. I've moved one event which could be viewed as a very minor spoiler depending on how intuitive you are. For example I guessed it was going to happen before it did but my boyfriend didn't. Other than that it shouldn't upset you or give anything away plot wise, I haven't completed the game yet myself but this angsty little plot bunny just wouldn't go away. Apologies if it's too OOC, tell me in a review. Don't flame me if you don't like yaoi. That's what this is getting at and if you don't like it don't read it. If you do like it let me know and I'll put up chapter two, which will be in Jude's POV. If you don't? Well I'll complete the game quicker :P

Enjoy, and review if you please.

Chapter One.

Alvin.

The inn is all but deserted in this quiet little town so we'll have our own rooms tonight which is a bonus as I've felt incredibly cranky lately. Rowen snores and Jude mumbles and my nightmares have reared their ugly heads. I'm not surprised that my fellow-men look just as relieved as I am that the Gald will go far enough for a little personal space. Oh and there is a bar. Things keep on looking up. I snort at my optimism and no one notices.

I'm paying very little attention as the others make plans but I get the gist. Rowen will take Leia and Elize shopping for supplies tomorrow, Jude will stay at the inn and study his healing arts and Milla is going to do what ever the hell the Lord of Spirits does in down time and I-

"Alvin'll be off sending secret notes!"

"Ouch Spud." I say nonchalantly, raking a hand through my hair and bopping the floating menace on the head for good measure. I fully intend to be sleeping off one hell of a hangover, but I won't share this with the group. I'd rather they think I'm off sending my 'secret notes' than realise the state I intend to get myself into when they've all snuggled into their dreams. We have dinner together and they retire to their rooms while I waste time in the streets until it's late enough to return.

The bar is mercifully empty when I step back inside, there is one man covering the bar and the reception, he is cleaning a glass and looks incredibly bored. The lights are low and the stairs quiet. No one is lurking in the shadows, no light glints off the barrel of a gun and I shake my head, smirking at myself. I approach the bar and pull up a stool, placing a large sack of gald on the counter I nod to the only other soul on this floor. He is young, probably only a little older than Jude and when he smiles at me his eyes glint in a very similar way, any other night I might ask him to join me but I need some alone time. I gesture to the sack of gald. "Will this be enough?"

To his credit the small smile doesn't leave his pretty face through his confusion. "For what Sir?"

"For you to leave me alone with your bar if I promise to behave myself?" I smirk at him.

"That isn't something I'd usually do Sir..." He looks at me from under long lashes and I get the feeling mother and father must be away, this is his first time running the show alone for the night. I sigh gently and look calmly back at him. "But wait! Didn't you and your companions win the famous Xian Du tournament for the Kitarl clan?" His young eyes light up in excitement.

"Oh uh, yeah. That we did..."

"Have a good night Sir." He bows and retreats, locking the front door of the inn and heading to his private quarters.

I walk around the bar and select a bottle of whisky, not caring about the brand or the taste, I take in the percentage, this should get me where I want to go. I return to my stool and pour my first drink. I drink to my mother. Again and again. The bottle goes down far too easily and I can thank my large statue and many years drinking experience for being able to stand and get my second bottle. I'm about a quarter of the way down said bottle when my vision, which has already doubled or tripled, starts to fog and the tears start. They disgust me, hot and wet and so so painful. Another quarter down and they stop as suddenly as they started, just in time I think as I can hear someone on the stairs. I hope fleetingly that it's Jude, as much as I hate the idea of him seeing me like this. Jude...

This infatuation has to end. The kid (and that's all he is) loves Milla, any fool can see that and even if he had shown the slightest bit of interest in me he will only distract me from my goals. So I will continue as I have been, watching him, protecting him, worrying about him and burying myself in people as similar to him as possible when the loneliness becomes too much to bare. All at once I feel an intense wave of shame and I think I might cry again. Idiot. I take a large gulp from my glass with numb lips as Jude approaches to steady myself and take a long look at him over the rim. I kick the stool next to me over to him and he sits silently. I suddenly feel the need to make conversation, to be the Alvin he expects, I plaster a lazy grin on my face and slur at him. "The barman looked like you."

He looks confused, like the barman earlier. I giggle and he stares at me. "Er. Okay. Are you alright Alvin?"

"Never better," I mumble and think I should offer him a drink but I have neither the ability or inclination to get up and go find another glass. He lays his hands on the bar, no doubt enjoying the cool surface on the callous' that are sure to be developing with this much fighting, something I do quite often myself. Milla is right, his hands are quite large for a guy of his size. Hmm, what do they say about large hands...

I want to touch him. I want to touch him so much it hurts, I don't though. Instead I busy myself by pouring another drink, I know this is about the tenth too many and prove it to myself by spilling half of it on the bar. Shit, what a waste. But wait! The colour of the whiskey! It matches his eyes perfectly. "Huh. Just like your pretty eyes." I ramble to myself and look up from the spill.

My father is sat across the bar from me, that constant glare on his strict face. Part of me knows this can't be happening, but a much larger, much more inebriated part of me rocks back on my stool to escape and Uncle makes a grab for my arm. No no no! I flail backwards, striking Uncle in the face and sending my drink flying. I land unceremoniously on my backside as the glass shatters on the stone floor, amber liquid spreading like a blood stain from so many wounds. Now it is a game of survival, if I don't move I will be hit, me against my father and my uncle. Not good. I'm far too drunk to get up and run so I opt for the next best thing, a undignified shuffle backwards until my back hits the far wall and then I just cover my face with my hands as I've done so many times before and wait for the blows to land. My wrist is grabbed and I feel like I've jumped a foot in the air. Not my wrists! They'll see. I'll be in so much trouble! The small, very small part of me who thought this couldn't be happening is silent now and the despair, the terror hits me full force. I'm eight years old again and this is never going to end because Mother is gone now. My protector. Gone gone gone. I ache to join her but she's in a better place and I would never be admitted, never be allowed to follow...

"Can you look at me Alvin?"

That voice. That beautiful, soothing voice that I can't resist, I peek out from between my fingers and glance around frantically for the owner. "Jude?" My own voice is small and timid and very very rough. I can't believe he's here. What happened to Father and Uncle? I desperately want my mother. "Yes Alvin," he sounds relieved, "it's me." He sounds so kind as he gently takes hold of one of my wrists and pulls it away from my face, I move my other hand down too because if he is here then Father cannot be here and he can take Uncle. I know he can. But of course Father and Uncle have gone, they were never here. Mother is dead and I am heinously drunk.

"There. That's better." He has that very lovely glint in his eyes and I wonder how I could have compared the barman to him earlier, "Do you know where you are?" I think I've frightened him so I nod slowly, "'m sorry I broke the glass." I offer, and suddenly I'm very very tired, I hang my head in shame and the depression I have tried to subdue within myself roars aloud and I wish it would all just stop. I wish I was de- "DON'T!" I shout as he gets up to leave me. If he leaves me now I don't know what I'll do to myself, I own so many knives. And guns.

"Shh!" He hushes me and I feel stupid and embarrassed for yelling, "Alvin you'll wake everyone up!"

Alvin. Pfft. Who the hell is Alvin? A coward, a mercenary and a master of betrayal. A man with so many faces that I don't recognise my reflection anymore. Everything was so much simpler when I was just Alfred. I am Alfred and I cannot be left alone. I grab his hand and won't let go, silently begging him not to leave me. Perhaps not so silently, he frowns and leans towards me and I hold my breath. I need him. I want him. "Alvin, I can't hear you." I grit my teeth, he needs to make up his mind. Stupid kid. Messing with me. I try to think of something typically scathing to say. "Don't leave me." Hmm. Not what I was aiming for. I am so weak! Telling this boy that I need him just so I can watch him use it against me.

"I won't leave you Alvin." No that's wrong. My mother named me Alfred. I tell him so. "Okay Alfred," he says, that confused frown creasing his angelic face once more. "Now come on, we should get you to bed." Oh take me to your bed Jude. Please. Please. He hauls me up with difficulty owing to my larger frame and uncooperative muscles, I stand (well sway) before him waiting. Needing him to take me with him. Do whatever he wants with me, I will not relinquish my grip on his hand, I stumble forwards after him struggling to get my legs to listen to my increasingly muddled brain. I have to keep stopping and steadying myself on furniture on the way to the stairs as wave after wave of nausea hits me, I can't make an even bigger fool of myself in front of Jude. We climb the stairs together and I walk straight into him as he stops at my bedroom door, the contact it delicious and I press into him as I slur into his ear that the door is unlocked and he leads me in, locking the door behind him. I keep his hand. It is mine now. The room starts spinning and I try frantically to steady my breathing. "Do you need to vomit?" No. No! That would be mortifying. I shouldn't have shaken my head. I dart for the small bathroom adjoining my room, dragging him behind me and only just make it.

I can't remember the last time I was this sick or this pathetic or this ashamed of myself. I'm supposed to take care of him. ...But my goal... My stomach has nothing else to offer up but my body is not satisfied. To my utter revulsion I start to dry heave and sob like a child and I WANT TO DIE. He can't see me like this, I turn away from his comforting hand and flee. I launch myself onto my bed face down and pray that I pass out. I think Jude is undressing me, oh I want him, I want to please him. But he loves Milla. Why is he doing this? I'm so confused but the room has stopped spinning at least so I roll onto my back and cautiously crack open one eye. His face! His adorable face is bruised high on his cheek bone and I finally realise that it was him I hit. Not Uncle. Uncle was never here.

"Your face..." I hear myself say and my self-hatred multiplies as he tentatively touches his cheek and hisses in pain. "It's nothing Alfred." He lies. But everyone lies to me and I lie to everyone so I can't hold it against him. "Don't worry about it." I won't . After all I'll have to so much worse to him in the future. To steal a line from Maxwell, "I must complete my mission." But I can't.

"Can't." I say defiantly, and softer "don't be mad?" My boot is pulled off roughly, I notice that the other one came off a while a go, he looks up at me and my heart stops. "Why would I be mad?" He smiles at me, cocking his head to one side, "You should sleep now or you'll never be able to face the morning." Stay with me angel. Stay with my while I die in my sleep. It will be so much easier, for all of us. "I don't want to face the morning." I say instead. He frowns moving slowly up the bed and sits next to my head, leaning against the headboard legs out stretched, he gestures for me to elaborate. He has been so kind to me, he's earned an explanation I guess or at least part of one. Or just something that isn't a lie. "My Mother." I take a breath, "she died." I say flatly.

"Oh Alvin." The closes his eyes, "I'm so sorry." The pity in his voice is over whelming and it makes me angry. Not to mention he got my name wrong. He doesn't care! Of course he doesn't. Stupid fucking KID! I don't want to be Alvin anymore! I hate Jude with everything I have in this moment for reminding me of the name I gave myself so I roll away from him, standing up and crossing the room. "ALFRED!" I shout at him, he flinches and moves into a defense position on the bed, I feel better. Proud even. If I can still scare him I can still hurt him. But I don't want to hurt him. Do I?! I'm so angry with myself, I feel so betrayed, so disturbed and so very humiliated. Still, if he fears me then at least that means he still respects me. That is how it works. Uncle says so. Someone knocks on the door and I unlock it with shaking hands before pulling it open with force as I try, and mostly succeed, to compose myself. It is Maxwell. She takes in the scene before her, me disheveled and wild-eyed staring down at her and Jude on the bed still in a defensive stance. She casually lays her hand upon the hilt of her sword and I reach for my ever-present hand gun. Jude is off the bed and between us in an instant, assuring Milla that everything is fine, that we are just discussing tactics, that there is nothing to worry about, that we are FINE. He practically shuts the door in her face with constant reassurances and smiles. I sag and feel a single tear slip down my cheek. I can't do this anymore, the fight has left me and I just want to sleep. Or die. Or take Jude against the wall. Not that I have the strength for the latter. I'm shaking when Jude takes my hand, and leads me back towards the bed. I comply wordlessly as he helps me to lay down and covers me with a blanket, I instantly curl into the fetal position. "I'm sorry Jude." I mutter, not entirely sure which of my many wrongs I'm apologising for but needing to say something.

"It's alright," he sounds exhausted, "get some sleep. I've left water on the side for you and I'll see you in the morning." He looks for a moment like he wants to say something else but stops, looking at my face. I can feel the tears coming but I don't care anymore. About anything. Screw this.

"No." I scoot away from him over to the other side of the bed.

"Alfred?" He watches me cautiously.

"You said you wouldn't leave me." I think I sound petulant.

"I'm only going to be across the hall..." He is swaying on his feet, the kid is so tired. Can't wait to escape me.

"No! Your leaving me." I tell him quietly, "they all do. I'm nothing... I'm... Nothing." I meant to sound matter of fact, like it doesn't hurt but my eyes are betraying me so I cover my head with the blankets so he won't see. He doesn't say anything and I wait for the sound of the door announcing his departure so I can let go but it never comes. Instead the bed sinks as he resumes his earlier position and I flinch as he pulls me into his arms with strength I didn't realise he has. I can't handle my emotions anymore. Everything crashes down around me so I wind my arms around his slim waist, bury my head in his lap and cry.