(Warning: spoilers circa Retrace 59)

Humpty Dumpty

"Leo."

He'd always been a light sleeper. The whisper was enough to wake him, and Leo stirred a bit reluctantly as he turned. On the opposite side of the room laid Eliot, facing him, his head still against his pillow.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Leo muttered, and he made a show of rubbing his eyes and yawning, though he was more awake than he let on. Eliot didn't smile, didn't smirk—didn't chuckle or shake his head. For a moment, Leo was alarmed; had Eliot been suffering another nightmare?

…Eliot's next words were startling:

"Let's run away."

Leo really didn't know what to say. He just stared at him, and though the room was darker than night, he could still see the solemnity and the fear in his brother's eyes.

And so, without a moment's doubt, he said, "All right."

"What? You really don't know how it goes?"

"O-of course I do! I just don't want to sing it or play it right now, uh, with you, that's all! Besides, who in the world would ever even think of learning such a stupid song?"

"How can you call it stupid if you don't even know the words?"

"I do too know the words!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

An hour later, with their backpacks full of three days' worth of clothes and some pocket change they'd managed to find around the school, they were on the move. When the sun broke the horizon, they were outside of the school grounds, having just narrowly avoided the cast of characters that cared for the building before hours.

"This is a bad idea," said Leo.

"Shut up," replied Eliot, plowing ahead.

Leo would sigh and shake his head, for he could clearly see the dark circles under Eliot's eyes; but he had no obligation or inclination to stop him. And so, as obedient as ever, Leo would follow after.

"…no, no. You hit the wrong chord."

"Damn it! I'll never be as talented at piano as you are."

"What? It's not a question of talent, but a question of practice. You just don't have the tune memorized."

"I already told you, I do! So—"

"Just move aside, will you?"

Leo counted up the change one more time. There was no way…

How in the world were they already low?

"It looks like we'll have to go back tomorrow," he said with a small sigh. Eliot was lying on the bed in the hotel room, looking absolutely exhausted. Leo didn't blame him; they'd walked such a long way and had eaten very little.

"Whatever," Eliot grumbled, and Leo wanted to sock him. Really? He was risking a lot by fleeing that private school, so why was he so… nonchalant about all of it? Was he going to waste his momentary freedom?

…

"I've got an idea."

"What?" Eliot looked over at him through half-lidded eyes. "What sort of idea?"

"Downstairs, there's a piano." Eliot just stared at him. Leo sighed and shook his head. "We might as well practice with an audience, don't you think? I'm sure the keeper won't mind, since there aren't many people there this time of day."

"If… if you're sure." But Eliot still refused to get up, so Leo grabbed him by his arm and hoisted him from his spot on the cheap, uncomfortable mattress. "Okay, okay!" Eliot said, dusting off his (notably dirty; they'd have much to explain when they returned) uniform.

For once, Leo led the way.

"Ah. That does sound familiar, I mean, hearing you play it."

"Think you can play some harmonies along with me? It's not too terribly difficult a song, after all."

"…you tryin' to insult me?"

"You're doing that just fine on your own."

"Hey—!"

"C'mon, then. Sit."

"You know, you're lucky I like you so much."

"But what should we play?" Eliot was staring at the keys beneath his fingers, and he was lost.

Eliot had never been lost at the piano before. Leo frowned. So this trip hadn't been a way for him to spoil himself.

"Well, I'd rather us not play Lacie," Leo said, "because that's still a work in progress, and I don't want anyone picking up on the theme." Eliot nodded along. "So let's play something really simple to start."

"Like what?" Eliot asked, scowling down. He pressed a finger, seeming almost tentative, into one of the black keys; a high-pitched A-flat pierced the air around them.

Not one of the customers lingering in the half-bar, half-dining area even turned their heads.

Leo ran his fingers along the keys, playing a chord here or a chord there, humming to himself. And then he said, "Let's play 'Humpty Dumpty.'"

"…what?"

"Okay, now here come the words. Ready?"

"S-sure, I guess. Um… You start."

Laughter. "You're a dork."

"You start."

"All right, all right. Ahem. '…Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.'"

With the final chord played, Eliot was leaning over the keyboard, panting as if he'd been exerting himself much too hard. Leo frowned and put a hand on his shoulder.

"E—Eliot…?"

"'…Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.'"

"…What the hell am I doing, Leo?" Eliot's hands ran through his hair, and he was trembling.

Leo couldn't see his eyes, but he was certain Eliot was in no condition to be in public.

"You're sitting here with me. We were just playing a little tune, remember? Just you and me, that's all."

Eliot nodded slowly; Leo wrapped an arm around him and picked him up. Whenever Eliot broke like this, it wasn't a good sign.

He took his brother back to the room, and with the last of the coin in his pocket, sent a message to the school informing them of their location. With any luck, there would be representatives here by the morning to escort them back.

For Leo knew Eliot would not be able to make the return trip on foot.

"'…And all the King's Horses and all the King's Men—'"

Leo was certain Eliot was dead.

He had seen that broken look in Eliot's half-lidded eyes only once before: when after being scolded by the staff at that private, rich-person school, the two of them had sat down at the piano again, and Eliot hadn't the strength in him to lift his hands.

("You're a terrible valet!" they'd said; "With an even worse master!")

But back then, Eliot had been able to pick himself up. Back then, all Leo had to do was extend his hand with the palm up, and Eliot would stumble a bit as he was pulled to his feet, but he'd be okay in the long run.

He'd… he'd be okay.

Now, as Leo dipped his hands into the pool of blood at his brother's side, he found no possible way for Eliot to stand.

"Eliot," he whispered, "Eliot, come on, look at me."

Eliot did not.

"Eliot," Leo insisted, and he pressed a bloodstained, gloved hand against his brother's face. "Eliot—Eliot—"

His eyes were open, but his heart was not.

"Eliot!"

And the scream that ripped him asunder left them both in irreparable pieces.

"'—Couldn't put Humpty together again.'"

~fin~

Elsa's Notes: I just finished volume fifteen of Pandora's Hearts, and writing was the only way I could cope with Eliot's death scene. Apologies for any inconsistencies!