Twelve-year-old Ludwig Beilschmidt had always known that his brother and Father never got along. He had heard their screams and curses every night right after Father came home. He had heard his Father cursing under his breath, thanking Ludwig for not turning out like his brother. His brother, Gilbert was eighteen, already graduated with honors and currently taking a gap year for himself. His father would scream at his brother for not going to college and taking a break from school for one year. He would compare him to Elizabeta and Roderich, two of Gilbert's childhood friends constantly, without recognizing any of his son's own talents. He mercilessly scolded him for anything less than perfect.

If today was like any other fight it would have died down after a good thirty minutes, usually ending with one of them stormed out of the living room, but today the screaming went on for what seemed like hours, neither parties backing out. As the argument continued, their volumes began to rise. It was to the point that Ludwig couldn't block out the voices. Their muffled insults echoed throughout the house. Ludwig buried himself in the sheets, hoping that soon they would give up, but his hopes seemed fruitless.

Ludwig's brother may have been a bit irresponsible and lazy, but he was still a good brother. In rough days his brother would be the first one over there to comfort him. When Ludwig was sick Gilbert would play him a tune on his flute playing it till the younger boy fell into a deep slumber. When he went out to house parties he always made sure to ask Elizabeta to take care of him. He couldn't understand why his father hated his brother, so much. Gilbert did everything. Got good grade, kept up his reputation, he even took extra classes just to appease their father. Nothing he did seemed to be good enough.

"YOU, You spawn of satan," His father hissed, face scrunching up into a look of disgust.

Gilbert's lips tugged upward into a wry smirk. "Oh danke Father, I always wondered where you came from," He retorted smugly.

"Don't you dare talk to your father like that! You were so much better when your mother was still alive."

Gilbert scoffed at the statement. "Me, better! I was just the same as I was then and now. You just pretended not to notice while Mother was still alive!"

"All I know is that you're an ungrateful brat who doesn't deserve my kindness," His father countered scowling at his son.

"Kindness, is that what you are calling this mental abuse you put me through!" Gilbert screamed, inching closer to father. "When was the last time you actually took care of Ludwig or actually acknowledged his presence? What kind of father are you if you only care about money!"

He slammed his fists against the table. His father looked at him with disgust. "I should've known this would happen… I told Abigail to leave you on the street as a worthless piece of trash but no she felt sorry for you so she picked you up and took you in."

"I'm probably a pretty good piece of trash if I'm a better father figure to Luddy then you will ever be!" Gilbert attempted to wretch the memories of his mother from his mind. Beautiful blue eyes, a soft, caring smile, her warm hugs, god he missed her.

"Don't you dare bring him into this," his father snarled, "he has done a damn better job than you."

Gilbert clenched his fist until his knuckles are white. "How..how would you even know that Ludwig does when you're never there for him?"

"What…"

His red eyes blazed with hatred. "How many soccer games did you miss, how many competition did you skip, and how many birthdays just ended up 'slipping from your thoughts'?" Gilbert raised his fist, moving closer. " Don't you think he deserves a better father?" Gilbert let out a hollow laugh. "But no, money is all you care about isn't it. How about you just throw us out? I think maybe then you'll relieve your burden of having us."

Gilbert took in heavy breaths. His face flushed with anger, he grabbed his father's shirt by the collar. His father's eyes widened, horrified, backing away as Gilbert reeled his fist back.

"What are you doing," His father stuttered, shuddering.

Gilbert loosened his grip making his father drop to the ground. He face paled, realizing what he had just done. He put down his trembling fist, and his hand over his mouth. "I didn't...I didn't mean to…" he whimpered.

His father scowled, pushing his son away. "You are no son of mine!" the man screeched, raising his hand up.

Gilbert fell to the ground, his cheek throbbing from pain. He cupped his reddening cheek, shaking as he stared up at the man. His father's hardened face didn't waver, cold eyes glowered at Gilbert. His father had just struck him.

"Get. Out."

Gilbert froze in sheer horror. He couldn't leave this place, he couldn't just leave his little brother here. Opening his mouth to protest, the edges of his vision were blurring. He hung his head down, rapidly blinking to dry out the tears that were forming.

"You heard me. Get. Out."

Finally, he slowly got up from the ground, nursing his injured cheek. Walking to his room, Gilbert shoved his triumphant father, hoping to knock him down a peg."Fine." His voice was barely above a whisper.

He didn't utter another word to his father. He had lost this, there were no more second chances. He averted his eyes away from his father, not wanting to see his smug face. He stormed off into his room and packed as much as he could in his small duffle bag. There was food, clothes, extra cash, and a few things he could sell for money. Before zipping it up the bag, a small tattered stuffed yellow bird caught his eye. Smiling softly, he packed the bird in his bag. He would've never forgiven himself if he forgot it. He checked the bag to see if he had all he needed then left the room.

Quietly walking over to the back door, Gilbert slowly turned back around. He went over to a door, right next to his room. Slowly turning the knob, he pushed the door open. Much to his relief, the door barely squeaked. Gilbert crept into the room. Lying on the bed, asleep was his little brother. He looked so peaceful like that. Not at all like a boy to mature for his age, but like a innocent child. Gilbert felt a pang of guilt as he remembered that he was going to leave his brother, with his awful excuse for a father. Gilbert shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his head. Ludwig will be fine, father favors him, so he'll be okay.

Gilbert put down his bag and sat down on the edge of the bed, making sure not to accidentally sit on his leg. His brother stirred as he felt the bed sink ever so slightly. Gilbert planted a kiss on the top of his forehead. As he tried to get up, a hand shot up and gripped his arm. The albino jumped at the sudden movement, dropping his duffle bag.

Ludwig clutched on to his brother's arm. The young boy blinked sleepily before clearly looking at Gilbert. "Bruder?" Ludwig said, his voice quivering," Father is making you leave isn't he?"

Gilbert paused for a second, sitting himself back down on the bed. Shooting his brother a weak smile, Gilbert started. "Yeah and I'm not coming back for a long time." Gilbert whispered, not being able to meet his brother's eyes, "Luddy can you do something for me?"

Ludwig nodded and Gilbert smiled. "Could you tell Liz and that unawesome Rodrich not to worry about me, and could you start to be a lot braver," Gilbert continued, voice cracking."I'm not going to be here anymore so I need you to be strong Okay."

"Okay….but bruder."

"Yeah Luddy."

"I….I don't want you to leave!" Ludwig's big blue eyes flooded with tears. He tried to fight them off but they just kept coming down..

Gilbert quickly pulled him into a tight hug. "Ludwig, I know I'm terrible at keeping promises, but this is one I'm going to keep," He choked, "I promise I'll come back and that's a promise I intend to keep." Ludwig's soft sobs filled the silence. The two embraced the hug for a little while longer, before a shout was heard from the other side of the house. Gilbert let out a small string of curses before letting go of his brother begrudgingly. He gave his brother one final kiss on his head, not knowing when he would ever come back.

"Bye Luddy."

"Bye…... Bruder."

Gilbert picked up his bag and quietly left the room. He left out the back door not wanting to see his father again. He glanced at the house for the last time, fifteen years of his life was spent rotting in this hellhole but, he'd never admit this out loud, he would miss this place. He let out a little sigh before finally stepping into the car. He was going to need to go pretty far from here if he wanted to sleep. He drove off a good distance from town, where his friends wouldn't find him. He parked in a nearby store. All the lights were shut off, including the illuminating sign.

Not the way I wanted to spend my first day homeless," He muttered, "but I guess it's better than the streets." He secretly wished that his friends would miss him and come looking for him, but that in his mind was just wishful thinking, nothing more than that. He took out his blanket and his stuffed bird from his bag and laid down on his car seat. Drifting off into a dreamless sleep, he muttered,

"Good night Gilbird."

A young woman stared at her folder, frustrated and perplexed. The list of names was growing by the weeks. Applicants to suggestions, a sea of paperwork flooded her office. She was going to kill that frenchman for mixing his paperwork with her's. She ran her hand through her hair, rereading her papers. There was a list of familiar names that appeared several times. Looks like people applied more than once, how bothersome. She began to sort out the names carefully.

Her eyes scanned the names, tired of the same routine, until...what? A strange name appeared on the list. She didn't recognize the family name, and the person had no connection to the agency. No, she did recall seeing the name from somewhere. The woman flipped through her folder, when her eyes fell on a newspaper clipping. She dropped the folder, hands trembling. She hadn't seen that name in years, not since…. Her face scrunched up, absolutely livid. She snatched back up the folder and stormed out of the room, glaring at anyone who came in her way.

From the end of the hall, the sounds of curses could be heard. The curses increased in volume as the woman got closer to her destination. Everywhere she went, a chilling atmosphere followed. Spectators, that were just passing by, claimed that a murderous aura attacked them while walking down the halls. A few were still recovering from the initial shock. People already heard of the woman's combustion temper, but only few had seen it up close. On the other hand, many of the senior agents rolled their eyes, wondering what had happened now.

The woman finally reached the room of the source for all her rage. Her co-workers, who occupied the bullpen, buried themselves into their works, hoping that she wouldn't unleash her fury at them. She stood in front of a glass room. All the curtains, that covered the room, permitted no one to see what was going on inside. She rapped her fist against the door, impatiently tapping her foot. Suddenly the door swung wide open, the woman nearly hit the person who opened the door with her fist. The person merely ducked, to avoid a fist getting thrust at his face. He moved out of the way, receiving a well deserved 'sorry' in the form of a grunt.

The door slammed behind them as they walked toward a single desk. The room was enveloped in darkness, only the small crack from the door provided a sliver of light. The woman didn't mind though, she stormed up to the desk. Her eyes, barely adjusted to the light, squinting to see the person sitting on the desk. A click was heard, and a lamp on the desk, lit up the area. A young man sat in the desk, carefreely smiling. He seemed to be completely oblivious of the rage directed towards him.

The woman slammed the folder down on the desk and opened it to the list of names. "What. is. This." She hissed, pointed at the name that caused her distress.

The man peered down to look at the list. His face dawned in realization. "Oh, so you saw my choice," He said, pushing the folder back to the woman. "That boy would be quite an addition to this agency."

"You said, you'd keep as many civilians out of this," She slowly said between her teeth. She took in a deep breath, trying to her anger at bay.

The man huffed, rolling his eyes at the woman. "I said I would try," he pointed out, sitting up a bit straighter. "However, we've lost more operatives this year than we have in since Operation Brookwood."

She flinched at the mention of that operation. She tried to shake away the memories, it wasn't the time to remember that. "...why now?" She asked, shoulders tensing. "If he would've been 'quite an addition to the agency'," Her fingers air quoted those words.

The man started tapping his chin. "Well, it seems that a little birdy told me that, the boy won't be going home for a while now," he said.

Narrowing her eyes, the woman leaned in. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm saying," the man paused, grinning wildly, "the boy has been kicked out of his home."

The woman stood there, silent. This was so like him, how long has he been keeping tabs on that boy? Her teeth clenched, she turned on her heel. "When do you need me to go out?"

"..." the man looked up, "In two hours."

The woman started walking away.

"Wait."

She abruptly stopped at the sound of his voice.

"Remember," he started, "he has the choice to join are not, he can reject our offer whenever he wants."

"Don't you think I already know that," she spat. And with that, the woman walked out of the room.

The man let out a sigh. He turned to the person, who let the woman in, smiling weakly. "Get her partner to go with her," he ordered.

The boy stiffly nodded, before leaving the room. The man peered at through the folder, that the woman had left, and flipped to a newspaper clipping. He took it out and left it on his desk, the lamp light shining directly at the picture on the article. A beaming boy's face was printed on the picture, holding a huge trophy. A stone faced man loomed above the boy. The caption under the was bolded in all caps,

"Child Prodigy in our Proud City

Gilbert Beilschmidt"

A/N Welp I'm doing this now. This is a new, not so new AU. I came up with this AU a couple of years ago, but never really written anything until now. I hope you enjoy, reviews, favorites and followers are appreciate. My tumblr is analyticalotaku. I may put up art work for this on there, maybe some info on the AU. I don't know what I'm doing.