lucetilogs | Albert & Caesar (finished)

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Albert & Caesar (finished)

Who: Albert (

crappy_actor) Silverberg
What: Caesar finds Albert after he returns from being kidnapped; hijinks ensue.
When: After Malnosso return Albert to the village.
Where: By the river.
Summary: Caesar is desperate, Albert is grumpy and full of ow.
Rating: PG?

The door made a loud crack as Caesar threw it open, hard enough that it beat against the building's frail siding, leaving a dent. He paid it no notice, intent as he was on racing to the river -- Albert, Albert's okay, he's down there, I'll find him he's okay--

He stumbled and fell to one knee, and was up and covering ground again just as fast. He ran like he was possessed; fueled by fear that maybe something irreparable had happened to Albert, and guilt that maybe Albert was right, and his kidnapping was simple retaliation -- an attempt to keep Caesar's plans silent -- and guilt that he'd not been able to do anything as Albert had been taken, had not tried to find him.

His lungs burned as he continued on to the far end of the village, occasionally careening around wandering strangers as he headed for the river. Some of them called out to him, or asked why he was running, but he didn't stop to answer anyone. On the other hand, he hoped they wouldn't follow -- he knew Albert would not appreciate spectators. No matter how hurt he was, he always had his pride.

Caesar closed in on the river a few minutes later. He paused, and looked around for the unique splash of color that was Albert's hair, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary at all.

The idea that he'd found the wrong place struck him like a blow. Still, he had to try. Out of options, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted his brother's name.

"Albert!"

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Caesar winced, hating how pained his brother looked with every movement he made. Concern knotted his stomach into something tight and ugly, and though he didn't really believe in revenge, he silently swore it against their unseen tormentors. No one deserved this kind of treatment.

Once Albert was relatively steady he began to walk, slowing his pace to one he hoped Albert could endure. He wanted to be back to their new home as much as soon as possible, but he also recognized the limits of his own strength. He simply wasn't strong enough to do more.

"Ha," he panted softly, easing Albert along the dirt path. "Time will do that to a person. You've still got a few inches on me, though."

The first few steps were the most trying, but Albert eventually got used to the slow and steady limp back to the village. He mostly concentrated on simply dragging his feet along, slowly regaining the strength to ease some of his weight off of Caesar's shoulders.

Now that he was moving, he found that his muscles complained much less than the initial stretch and pull. Like exercising injured limbs, the movement was very tiring, but not without its benefits. He was nowhere near walking under his own power, but it was good to know everything was functioning to some extent.

With his eyes closed, he could not tell how long the trek really was; part of his did not want to know. He spoke to Caesar, for lack of anything better to do as he walked. "The wings...," he began, stopping to try the sentence over again. "They broke my wings several times. To see if they had 'set' correctly."

Caesar made a noise low in his throat; half gasp, half growl. He honestly hadn't expected Albert to relate any of the details of his kidnap and torture, but he certainly wasn't going to keep him from talking.

He didn't pity Albert, not in the least. He was angry for him, he ached for him, but he didn't pity him, and he knew that Albert did not expect or want it.

Caesar glanced at his brother before turning his eyes back to the trail. "They don't look that bad, when you put it that way," he said quietly, making a mental note to try not to disturb them any more than necessary.

He did his best to keep a calm face as his anger built, using it as fuel to keep them moving along the path. They'd entered the outer edges of the village, and Caesar gently corrected their course towards the housing they shared. For once, he was greatly relieved that they both lived on the lowest floor; stairs would have been impossible in the state they were in.

He kept his eyes down, trying to ignore the people around them. Fortunately, the village was mostly quiet, and those that were out didn't seem inclined to interfere.

It's kind of sad, he thought, his lips curling into a mirthless smile. This is the closest we've been in years and years.

Albert nodded slightly at Caesar's observation, carefully flexing his wings. "It's a paralyzing pain," he whispered raggedly, wincing and ceasing the needless movement. "They reset the bones, but it's very-- different." He remembered staring at the wall after his wings had been examined the first time; how he had tried to reason out why it hurt so much, why it felt like he was going to die every time they pulled on the feathered appendages.

He opened his eyes, glancing at the younger man. "Don't let anyone hurt your wings. Just ... don't."

Now he could see that they were already in the village, moving slowly towards the community housing. He sighed and wished his stomach would stop hurting; having never been without regular meals, he did not know that he was lucky to not be past the point of stomach pains and into the dull ache of severe starvation.

"I'll keep that in mind," Caesar said blandly, flinching reflexively as one of Albert's wings brushed the back of his hand. Almost there, he thought, just a little further, the mantra keeping him going as his limbs began to tremble under the burden of his brother's weight.

His strength was in his mind. For the first time in a long time, he regretted not having paid more attention to the strength his rail-thin body was lacking.

"It's a good thing you're so skinny," Caesar quipped, "or else I might have had to get a cart. That might have been a little embarrassing for both of us."

Albert found the strength to snort at his brother's joke, eyes half-shut as he replied, "I didn't realize ... you had an ego left to bruise." Perhaps a little harsh coming from anyone else, but the remarks were so commonplace when he was talking to (read: arguing with) Caesar that it would have been odd to go without them for too long. It was a sign of normalcy -- dysfunctional Silverberg normalcy.

All the same, he was actually grateful for the help. He wouldn't say as much, not right now, but ... eventually. Yes, eventually.

They were closing in on the entrance to the building, and he did his best to open the door so they could enter.

"Oh, I've got plenty of ego," Caesar said, a faint smile touching his lips. "I just don't let it control me." A huge part of him was relieved beyond words; it was the most Albert-like thing his brother had said since he'd come back. Finally, Caesar had found something that showed him that maybe Albert hadn't been quite as damaged as he'd first feared. "I see they didn't damage your mouth."

He grunted as he maneuvered himself and Albert through the short hallway, through the spacious kitchen area, and past the first few closed doors. He paused in front of his own open door instead of continuing on to Albert's room -- partially because he felt more secure there (and assumed Albert might feel a bit more comfortable away from the "scene of the crime", so to speak), and partially because of the childhood habit of staying out of Albert's personal space.

"You want the chair or the bed?" Caesar asked, turning his head to glance at Albert, both relieved to be back and exhausted from their journey.

"If they did, I'm sure you'd be the first to notice," Albert mumbled, rolling his eyes mostly to himself. He had a feeling that Caesar needed this just as much as he did. What kind of image did he project, looking like a shadow of himself?

Caesar had never seen a side of him that did not frown constantly, sound serious, or have an insult deriding his intelligence ready. It was easy to blame the things that kept them apart -- the differences in age, paradigms, and general interests -- but at the end of the day, it was likely a great amount of stubbornness. Another thing Silverbergs were unfortunately notorious for.

He really knew nothing about Caesar, though he could assume several things. His favorite color (green), pastime (sleeping), least favorite pastime (studying), and least favorite person (himself). It seemed like enough when he had a job and other pursuits to keep him occupied.

Now, though, there was nothing. And it would have been tragic if he bothered to think of it that way.

"Bed," he said shortly. Just mentioning the piece of furniture reminded him of how tired he was. He could probably sleep for days; he certainly felt like it.

"Heh," Caesar grunted as he helped Albert along those last few steps, hope flaring brightly in his heart as Albert seemed to return more and more to himself. He'd never imagined he'd be so happy to be on the receiving end of Albert's sharp tongue, but at the moment it didn't matter at all.

Caesar eased Albert down to a sitting position on his bed, taking a seat beside him. "Forget what I said earlier. I should have brought a cart." He groaned as he rolled his shoulders, trying to soothe the pulsing ache that had developed there.

He turned to get a good look at Albert, trying to take stock of the entirety of the damage. He looked haggard and smeared with dirt and grass stains, which was not unexpected, though his eyes had lost most of the glassy vacancy that had been there before. His wings were a mess; tattered, feathers missing and broken, though not a complete loss. He looked like hell, but in the dim light he couldn't see any obvious wounds or blood.

The only important damage, Caesar reasoned, was probably internal.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked quietly, a moment later. "Food? Water? More blankets?" He looked at his hands, covered in mud and grime. "Or would you... like some time to yourself?"

Caesar didn't want to leave his brother right now, not like this -- but he knew Albert would hate it if Caesar tried to treat him like some helpless child or wounded animal. Therefore, the offer remained.

He kept staring at his hands as he waited for Albert's response.

He still felt uncomfortable lying down on the bed, and he rolled onto one side to ease the pressure off of his wings. Lying still again helped him feel better, his muscles slowly relaxing -- or attempting to.

Albert remained silent for a few moments following Caesar's questions. "I need something to eat that won't upset my stomach," he supplied, his voice relatively clear now that they were indoors. "Broth. Water. Something."

He watched his brother dimly, wondering how to answer the last question he has asked. Here he was, intruding on his brother's space (not that he could see much of it from his current angle), and leaving Caesar in the role of caretaker. It might have been appalling if the situation was any different. "I need sleep. Desperately. You ... probably don't want to watch me sleep."

"Aa." Caesar gazed once more at the reduced figure of his brother, motionless for a moment before he stood.

The adrenaline from Albert's "rescue" had worn away, and Caesar felt his own weariness creeping up like a dark cloud. Caesar hadn't really slept since Albert disappeared.

The last few days were a blur of memories, images of pacing his room for hours on end, creating and discarding countless strategies that wouldn't do him a lick of good now because he had no army and blessed runes he didn't even know where the hell the enemy was. Elaborate plans scribbled into a plain bound notebook, and lost moments when he nodded off at the desk, only to wake seconds later as his head slipped from his palm.

And over that, scattered memories of his childhood -- their childhood -- hazy times before he understood what it meant to be a Silverberg, the image of his aloof but not unkind elder brother; the boy whose back he had been chasing all his life.

Until this day he had never seen his brother as vulnerable. Even when he'd been taken, despite the worry gnawing at his belly, Caesar had somehow assumed that Albert was cold enough to endure untouched.

And now, Caesar wondered if he only imagined the vulnerability in Albert's voice.

He turned back to Albert, crouching beside him to flash a brief, embarrassed smile. "I'll stay. If ... if you don't mind." He lingered a moment more before he stood and walked toward the kitchen, his reluctance to leave Albert almost painfully obvious.

Dozing had never seemed like such a nice thing. He had always prided himself for his work ethic, and along with that his ability to remain focused and awake for long periods of time. But that was all in the name of work and completely his choice.

The long days and nights (though he had no way to measure time in his isolation) had been spent mostly in an uncomfortable, inclined position. On his chest. The positioning had been entirely to have access to his wings.

If something good had come out of the entire experience, he would probably not have felt as disheartened and lost as he currently did. But his captors had left him no real way to discern anything of his surroundings other than the metal table he had been strapped to and a few artificial lights on the ceiling. A weakness, a general layout of the room, a glimpse of one of these Malnosso that they lived in constant anxiety over.

But there was nothing. Just his body and mind paralyzed by things that any human being could succumb to.

It was humbling. A kick in the face of his own arrogance.

He caught the slight smile on Caesar's face before the younger disappeared from view. Here he was, showing disdain towards Caesar's sense of kindness and charity, and those were likely all that kept him from spending a night out in the Luceti wilderness.

"You can do whatever you want," he breathed softly, quite possibly to no one at all. "I'm ... in no position to complain."

[ooc: Dysfunctional brotherly relationships for the win. ♥ They're great because they have no idea how to get along. XD]

Caesar loathed the idea of being forced away from Albert for any period of time, as if he were afraid that any moment the Malnosso would return to finish what they started. He kept his movement as quiet as possible so he could listen for any strange noise from the other room, but such stealth was almost impossible given the arrangement of pots and pans he had to wade through to find what he needed.

As he waited for Albert's meal to cook, he made several trips to the door of his bedroom, anxiously gazing at his brother huddled in the shadows there. He didn't move, and Caesar wondered if perhaps he'd succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep.

He doubted it.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Caesar poured most of the pan of broth into a cup, hoping that it would meet Albert's requirements, hesitating before tearing off a chunk of soft bread. If he was up for it, something solid would do him good.

"Hey," Caesar whispered as he returned to his room with food in hand. "Albert..? You awake, bro?"

It was difficult to sleep with his stomach still complaining and his body still adjusting to a bed that he knew should be comfortable but currently wasn't. Restless, Albert had tried to wake himself up enough to look around Caesar's room, but the semidarkness kept him from seeing much. A bedside table, a desk out of the corner of his eye, the chair that he had been offered... Just the general outline of the furniture placement.

He shifted his head as he heard Caesar, pushing himself up onto an elbow to acknowledge him. It didn't take long for him to realize why he had woken him up (or would have, if he hadn't been awake already); the smell of food kept his attention, and he rubbed tiredly at his eyes before moving into a better position to take the food.

"Thank you," he sighed. And he really was grateful.

Caesar stiffened momentarily -- he hadn't heard those words from Albert in as long as he could remember. A small smile passed across his lips as he passed the cup of soup to his brother. "No problem."

He sat down on the floor beside the bed, leaning against the nightstand and drawing his knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and laid his head on one knee, watching Albert as if he were sure he would disappear on him as soon as he looked away. "Sorry," he said, his smile turning apologetic. "I'm not much of a cook, even if I've had to do it for myself for a while, now." And then he was quiet, content to be in the company of his brother even if the situation was painful to the both of them.

"Let me know if there's anything else, okay?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't ask for a four-star entrée," Albert mumbled into his cup, manners lost in the face of hunger. He was forced to drink slowly because the somewhat-bland broth was still hot, but it still tasted like the best soup he had ever had.

Propping himself up against the headboard, he glanced down at Caesar sitting on the floor. He had not noticed before how tired the younger looked; there were obvious signs of fatigue on his face, and not all of them were from his journeys out of and back into the village. The obvious reason for his weariness was lack of sleep. Finally, he dryly thought, something we have in common.

"You need to sleep," he said steadily before returning his attention back to his meal. He really should not have to point out the obvious.

"Bah," Caesar muttered, closing his eyes. "I'll sleep soon enough." He was touched by Albert's concern, as nonchalant as the comment had been. It was true that he was tired -- exhausted, to be honest -- but his concern for his estranged brother overrode the fatigue and kept him awake, pushing him past his previous limits and into a dazed, giddy numbness.

For several years, he had justified their rift by telling himself that Albert didn't really matter to him, lost to him as Albert discarded his former life and family as easily as he shed old clothes, that maybe Albert had always been cold to him, and he'd simply been too young and too naive to understand. As a strategist, he'd learned to rely on facts when they were there, and make logical assumptions when necessary. Emotions had no place in that arena, and though Caesar was naturally an emotional being, he'd learned how to be a good strategist.

And so he'd told himself that Albert didn't really matter. It was the most blatant lie he'd ever told in his life.

"Are you warm enough?" Caesar pulled himself from his thoughts, focusing on his brother again.

Albert raised a brow at Caesar's dismissal, but did not comment as the other shut his eyes. He imagined there was a reason for it, but it did not really occur to him that Caesar was seriously concerned about him.

Like his younger brother, Albert had set aside his emotions for the sake of his profession. A strategist was required to observe without passing judgment and to think logically throughout plans and campaigns; there was no room for hesitation when he had to keep track of so many variables on the battlefield.

At some point early in his life, he had adopted that mindset so completely that he lost sight of those immediately around him. He chased after his grandfather's shadow while claiming he simply believed in his ideals; the fame, prestige, and abilities Leon commanded appealed to him greatly, and it took him years to even acknowledge that fact.

He finished the cup of soup and set it on the bedside table, his eyes falling on the chunk of soft bread he had also received. He could probably do without it, but the sooner his stomach began accepting solider food, the sooner he could begin adjusting his diet.

"Do you have blankets to spare?" he inquired in turn, not looking at his brother as he tore the bread into smaller pieces.

[ooc: I don't have a problem with that at all. :o My AIM SN is Untold Ideas. What timezone are you in? That'd help with our scheduling.]

"I managed to squirrel away the ones from the spare room," Caesar admitted with a snort. "It's not like anyone else is using them, anyway."

It took him a minute to get to his feet. He stretched and padded out of the bedroom, returning a moment later with an armload of soft blankets that he laid out over Albert's battered body.

Without a word, Caesar collected the empty cup and turned towards the kitchen, only looking back to Albert once.

Another few words of gratitude died on Albert's lips as he watched Caesar slip away. He hadn't felt the urge to say "thank you" so many times since he had graduated from Soledt, and even then the words were hollow and meaningless. Taking his time to finish his bread, he shifted the blankets into a more comfortable position and settled back down.

He eased himself back to rest on one side, pulling a blanket up to cover his shoulders. It would be easier to sleep now, he reasoned, and this nightmare could begin to fade away. Not that he was optimistic to think he would actually forget the entire experience.

Caesar stopped in the doorway, watching silently as Albert settled into his bed.

"Hey," he said softly, moving across the room to stand beside the bed. "It's starting to snow."

He didn't really expect an answer. He simply stood there, arms crossed in contemplation, his eyes traveling along the crooked, battered edge of Albert's visible wing, listening to the uneven rasp of his breath.

His throat constricted painfully as he studied the scene, committing it to memory. He wouldn't cry; he was a man grown, now -- but damn it, Albert always made him feel like a little kid again.

He leaned down and tucked the blankets more securely around Albert's thin frame, smoothing them away from his injured wings as best he could. He reached out to touch him, but stopped short, holding his hand out in the cool, empty space before drawing it back.

After a moment he sat back down, resting his head on his arms now crossed over the lip of the mattress.

I've missed you, he thought sadly, unable to speak the words himself.

I've missed you.

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Albert & Caesar (finished)

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