I'm sorry for posting long, crappy fanfic. I don't even know where this came from… but enjoy, I suppose. Take this as an introduction. There's a lot of annoying exposition, I know, but I promise there will be more action, later, if I chose to continue this. It was more of an experiment than anything, so I'll see if people like it enough to continue. If I make any glaring plot errors, please tell me! And yes, there are a lot of inaccuracies, I'm sure… I tried to handwave them as much as possible, but I know they're still present. I'm really sorry, again! I'm a newb, so I'm not quite sure how to edit the previous document… if things are too error-ridden, I'll just re-upload later, I suppose.

Enjoy!

It had been, to put it bluntly, one hell of a day.

By the time I had reached my apartment that night, past midnight, though I didn't care to look at the clock, I was exhausted. The most I had the energy for was to take off my shoes before I collapsed onto my mattress, still in full uniform. With an annoyed sigh, I pulled myself under the sheets, gripping my pillow like it was my life preserver. In a way, it was. I needed rest more than anything, but my mind was reeling, and I had a sinking feeling that sleep would not come easily, even though I was delirious from overwork and exhaustion. The space next to me was empty, as I had expected it to be. Matthew was even more masochistic than me; he opted to stay at the station while he ordered me to get rest. Rest, I scoffed. Like that was going to happen. I had tried to object, but he had the higher-ups on his side. It seemed superfluous to them whether they needed me or not. I, apparently, was no use when I was walking into tables because I couldn't keep a proper balance. In all truth, I was thankful for the chance to stop, to just calm myself. I needed it. It brought some sort of calamity in my thoughts; I no longer had to worry about my actions until it was time to head back to work. On the other hand, now that I didn't have physical motions cluttering my mind, it was a chance to focus on everything. I didn't want to consider the possibilities of my or anyone else' actions just yet. That would come later, at the sake of my momentary sanity. For now, I would replay everything. Yes. Just the dull sense of memories, the wounds too fresh to reopen and become more painful just yet. I let my eyes fall close, under the pretense that it would do nothing. I was fine with that.

I had woken up just like usual. Growled at Matthew to get his ass out of bed, fixed myself a cup of coffee, and turned on the morning news. Just the usual happenings, nothing I wouldn't know about by this point. There were perks about working in law enforcement. You always got the inside info about crimes and such before the public. A small sort of bragging right that I liked very much to exercise to its full potential. Plus, there were some things they just didn't let the general populous know. I had turned it off before my brother had finally emerged from the bedroom in only his boxers, hair a tousled mess. I reminded him to get dressed before showing up at the station (as to avoid a situation like last time... I still had picture reminders.) and he came back five minutes later in full uniform, but still half-asleep. (It's certainly not my fault he has a hatred of coffee. It may taste like shit but it gets you going.) Right. Just like usual.

After gathering our belongings and whatever information we needed for work, we drove to the station, bickering all the way about something or other. I drowned him out with the radio before he went into full debate mode, a situation I had learned from harsh experience to avoid like the plague.

I greeted Inspector Ludwig von Whatshisface with a vague nod and a muffled good morning before heading down to my office, setting down my briefcase and fingering through files... it was a dull process. Though I worked for a relatively large city, lately there had been very little action. In fact, since I had taken the job two years prior, there had been only one case that really had shaken the station. It was a murder-suicide, and at the time I was hardly old enough for Ludwig to entrust me with a gun, let alone investigate a case like that. I had only gotten the information on it after the fact, but Arthur had been one of the top investigators on the case, and it managed to make him not act like a total stuck up asshole to me for a whole of two days. Something about cherishing what you have, or whatever. It didn't last, of course. I had seen police action before those two years, of course, I had taken an interest in law from an early age, done shadow trainings, jobs for the higher-ups, internships, anything I could get my hands on. In truth, I had no clue why the hell Matthew decided to follow the career path as well. I always figured he was better suited for a lawyer. But to each his own, I suppose.

I had just gotten comfortable with my feet on the desk as I examined the paperwork when the door was shoved open violently. I jumped, putting my feet firmly back on the floor in anticipation for Ludwig's scolding. So early in the morning, too.

Instead, there was no one. I furrowed my brow, heading back to my reading material.

"Detective Jones," a high, accented, but clearly male voice addressed, though I still couldn't for the life of me figure out who the hell it was. I gave the room a quick scan, finding it devoid of life besides me.

"Who's there?" I commanded, pushing my glasses up my nose furiously.

A sharp, annoyed sigh. "Lower your folder, Detective." I did as instructed, finding a short, Asian man in the doorway, tapping his foot impatiently against the green carpet. You think I'd learn by now that it would always be Kiku. And I called myself a morning person, for Christ sakes. "You have a visitor," he stepped aside, revealing a very familiar figure; light brown hair and dull green eyes, standing in a naturally shy stance, yet giving off an air of distinct formality. "I tried to explain to him that the station is strictly prohibited to those with major complaints and personnel, but he insisted a tie to you. And I wouldn't dare disturb your wishes." Polite as ever, even when he was giving me underhand jab right after the other.

"Toris," I had to keep myself from being too loud as a smile swept across my face as I sprung up from my chair, going to shake his hand. He smiled as well, but I could tell immediately it was pensive, reserved. He hadn't spent years in my care just for me to not be able to tell when he had something to say. He waited anxiously at the doorway, before I realized he was waiting for an invitation. "Come in, come in. Coffee?"

With a swift nod, Kiku was out of the room, shutting the door with a quiet sort of slam behind him. Toris still hesitated, hand connected to mine. He dropped his arm back to his side, taking a seat on the spare couch in the corner of my room. He stared at his hands, rubbing them together in a nervous habit.

"Oh," he realized I had asked him a question, his jittery habits increasing in rhythm. "No thank you, Alfred."

I poured a cup for myself, going to sit beside him. His eyes were focused intently on the carpet, like he was trying to memorize every little nuance in the pattern. I frowned, waving a hand in front of his face. "Nice to see you." Only then did he look up. The soft smile returned to his lips, and I studied his face, looking for more emotion than he was willing to show me. He looked fine, even though the skin beneath his eyes was bruised purple, the pallor of his face unusually pale. There was a light shake of his frame; from exhaustion or nerves I couldn't tell which. As a force of habit, my eyes flew to his wrists, though his forest green jacket obscured them.

A moment of silence passed between us before he spoke up. "I'm sorry for visiting you at work with no notice," he apologized. I opened my mouth to assure it was fine, but he cut me off. "Feliks has been very busy lately, my brothers too. I haven't seen you in a while, it would be nice to stop by, wouldn't it?"

I nodded, my suspicions growing by the minute. "No, I don't mind. I'm glad for the visit... would have been another boring day at the office, otherwise." Another awkward silence. I took a sip of my coffee, eyes narrowing. "Toris... what do you really want to talk about?"

He shrugged, pulling his sleeves down so they covered his hands. When he spoke, his words were a soft sigh. "Can I talk to you?"

I blinked, shocked he would be even asking such a question. The answer was so painfully obvious. "Of course."

"Again, I'm sorry," he began. "Normally, I would be confiding in Feliks these things, but..." He paused, the expression on his face showing contemplation. He was trying to find an eloquent way to phrase whatever was on his mind. "We don't talk much anymore."

"Why?" I pressed. "Did something happen between you two?"

He immediately shook his head. "No, of course not. He's been in Poland a lot more lately is all, and it's getting a bit harder to write. Plus, it's different when you're face to face talking with someone, right?"

Toris was stalling, simple as that. I sighed, with more worry than exasperation, however. "How have you been getting along on your own?"

His breath gave a small hitch, an unreadable emotion sparking in his eyes. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about..." He trailed off, switching his gaze to the small window, where a snow sky was on the horizon. "I don't very much like living alone..." I could see why. Toris was strong because there was no other way to go about things, but at night... When we lived together, I had diffuse his frequent panic attacks, shake him out of his nightmares, etc. It was why I was so thankful for Feliks. He had been living with Toris since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, and for all his faults, he cared about the kid. I hadn't heard anything about his business trips to his home country, however. In fact, I hadn't heard much from Toris in a while. We would talk on the phone sometimes, but the conversations were cut short, and far in between. It had been the first time we had talked in person for nearly a year. "I can't pay for rent on my own, I'm already supporting Raivis and Eduard. Feliks doesn't come back often enough to be worth having 'our' apartment, of course. Uhm... Alfred?"

"Yes?" I asked, gently prying one of his hands away, which had started to pick at his skin. His muscles tensed before relaxing once again.

"If I tell you something, will you promise not to..." he searched for the right words once more. "Freak out?"

Well, I had to be honest. "It depends on what it is."

He swallowed. "Well, you have to understand the situation I'm in, it's only a temporary thing until things cool down in Poland. I promise I'll leave as soon as he comes back!" He began to shake harder, which I attempted to steady with a squeeze of his hand. With a deep breath, he continued. "Alfred, it's not what it seems. Please understand that. But I'm going to be living with Ivan for the next few months. I-I have been already, for three weeks. It's why I haven't called as much as usual."

I drew a sharp intake of breath, the blood flowing hot in my veins. "God, Toris," I muttered, harsher than I had intended. "Are you crazy?" I sat down my drink, moving in closer to take both his hands. I was about to say, 'do you even remember what he did to you?' but I stopped myself. It would be one of the greatest insults I could think of. Of course he damn well remembered. "I'd rather have you stay with anyone, anyone but him. We have room in our apartment, you know. Matt and I don't take up that much space. What did he tell you to get you to come...?"

"He didn't," he replied simply, almost monotone. "I asked him to take me in. He said he would be happy to. It's temporary, really. H-He hasn't don't anything to me..." The way he bit down hard on his lip as he said this, how he tried to get out of my grip but didn't in the end.

"That's a lie," I replied, making my tone clear it was no question. "Toris... Please. Tell me."

"I'm not lying," he objected, though it had no fight to it. He let out an exhale. "He's said some things, but he hasn't hurt me. He's... nice when he isn't afraid of losing me. But that's the reason I can't write to Feliks, he doesn't let me. I can talk to you, but even then he's not very lenient about it. I don't think he knows I'm out here, even. But I needed to talk to you, even if you don't understand. I'm not afraid of him this time around."

"You are," I said, almost a growl. "Look at the way you're shaking, Toris. You're terrified. And haven't you thought this over? At all? He's not going to react well when you're ready to leave, you know that, right?"

By the way his eyes glazed over as he stared at my feet, I could tell he hadn't even given it a thought. "I-I..."

"You can still stay at my place," I assured him. "I don't know how you'll convince him it's fine, but I think it may be the best thing we can do for you. It's better than Feliks coming home and the both of you getting hurt." I could see it happening all too well. It wouldn't be the first time the both of them would be over this. "Think about it." I didn't want to outright say it, but it wasn't a request. I loved him like a brother, like hell I was letting that communist bastard continue to abuse him. Unfortunately, I was almost certain it was happening, despite what Toris was telling me. His lying wasn't a downright sin; he was using it to protect himself. Or perhaps he was trying to protect Ivan... as twisted and wrong as it was, he cared for the monster. He actually liked the prick.

He shook his head, gently dropping my hands. "No, it's fine. I'm just a bit nervous, is all. I needed to tell someone. P-Please don't repeat this, okay? There's no reason to panic, we're living in peace." He started the next sentence with 'for now', but stopped himself. "If things get worse... I'll tell you."

Still not completely convinced, I placed a hand on his shoulder for the briefest moments. "I'll be here. Who cares if I'm at work, or if it's the middle of the night?"

"Thank you, Alfred," he stood up, making his way towards the door. As he reached for the handle, the sleeve of his jacket fell down, revealing raw, red lines drawn across his skin, almost obscuring the flesh all together. My heart gave a lurch, but I wasn't exactly surprised. Of course he would hide it from me. I knew that from the minute he set foot in my office. I waited a few moments in silence after he left, before returning to my desk.

I had given him my word, but I knew exactly what I had to do. I rearranged my papers, picking them up in my arms to appear semi-productive in the hallways.

The station was pretty straightforward. Ludwig was the chief, his brother the deputy, though Gilbert rightfully didn't do much. Kiku was in charge of forensics, and Arthur for crime scene investigations. Vash and Roderich for interrogation. Not at the same time, of course, if you put those two in a room together they'd kill each other first. Everyone else worked under those people, and such, Kirkland was my boss. Too bad my detective skills were far superior, despite what he said. Besides Matt, unfortunately, everyone was above me in the pecking order. So I had to run to Ludwig whenever I had a problem. Because like hell I was letting Arthur take the reigns for cases that rightfully belonged to me. And this was my case.

I had the layout memorized. The only reason I looked up during the trek to Ludwig's office was not to run into anyone. Of course, it happened anyway. I gave his office door a sharp rasp, to no reply. I heard faint mutterings from inside, urgent and unintelligible. I pressed my ear to the metal nametag, hand resting against the doorknob. Frowning, I couldn't make out a thing. That is until he raised his voice.

"Come in," he boomed, my hands immediately pulling back. I managed to land in a meter away from the threshold. With a soft click, the door opened to a large, plain office room. I hadn't been inside since I was sworn in, and to be honest, I wasn't missing much. It was exactly like my own office, if not doubled in size and with no classic movie posters on the wall. Instead, file cabinets lined every corner, all as neatly arranged as his desk. As our eyes met, he was placing a phone back its hook. He surveyed me, the expression on his face as stern as ever. Cautiously, I stepped forward, loosening the grip on my paperwork.

"Inspector Ludwig," I addressed, hesitating at the doorway.

"Please," he begged. Just call me inspector. Well, come on in. What is it, detective? Didn't Kirkland give you a case report to fill out?"

"He did," I shrugged, trying not to show my distain for Arthur's busy work. "I'm here to ask permission for an investigation."

I almost caught a roll in his eyes. "Well, do you have a plausible cause of search?"

"Yes," I said immediately, and without thought. A few moments of silence passed over us before I realized he was waiting for farther affirmation. "I mean, yes, of course. Today, I received a visit from an old friend... I have reason to believe that his new guardian is abusing him."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "And what might this reasoning be?"

I swallowed, a small amount of guilt welling up inside me for betraying Toris' trust like this. Not like he had confided much in the first place, though. "Scars." No need to mention that they were self-inflicted. It wouldn't hold up as evidence in a courtroom. "It's happened before, years ago. I know it may not seem like a good enough reason, but it's not like it's completely out of the question."

"This seems... personal," he finished, after a moment of contemplation. "Are you sure this is the right place to be bringing these issues up, detective?" He paused. "You know the rules, we are not allowed unwarranted searches and investigations, unless there is hard or otherwise tangible evidence." He shifted his paperwork, straightening his back. "Unless you are willing to elaborate?"

I faltered, staring at my feet. The things Toris had told me before about his time with Ivan just hurt to think about, let alone repeat to my superior like it was casual. Impersonal. Just another piece of evidence. "He's possessive of him, that's what. He's not above scaring him into staying. Psychological, physical, sexual... I have proof of each one." I hissed out the last part, heat once again rising in my blood.

"Will it hold up in court?"

"Damn it, West," the door to his office jerked open, my head automatically swiveling around to take sight of the new visitor. Gilbert brushed his platinum blonde hair out of his red eyes, glaring. He took almost calculated march steps over to his brother, grabbing Ludwig's cell phone off his desk. "You were having phone sex with your bitch again, weren't you?"

The Inspector barred his teeth. "Gilbert, get the hell out of my office this instant."

"Doesn't change the fact that your boyfriend is in the lobby," he stuck out his tongue, taking a seat on top of his brother's neatly stacked paperwork.

If I hadn't known better, I would have seen the color rise in Ludwig's face. "Gilbert, what did you-?"

"I would talk to him if I were you," he interrupted, voice almost a song. "He doesn't have anger management boy to keep him check. I can handle this, I'm deputy, after all."

"I'm in a meeting," he hissed, but he was already out the door. "Don't do anything while I'm away." He pivoted to address me. "You, I'll be back in a moment."

Gilbert sneered, laughing to himself without looking at anything in particular. "So, what the hell did you want with him?"

I couldn't tell immediately if he was talking to me, but I answered all the same. "Search warrant."

This only seemed to amuse him more. "I heard fatass' name." He stared at me, as if expecting me to understand his various nicknames for people. "The Russian bastard, of course."

"So there's really no one in the lobby?" I asked.

"No, there is," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I just like to get my nose in whatever business he doesn't let me in on. So, what do you want with the prick and his property?"

"Investigating under suspicion of domestic abuse," I replied, trying to keep my professionalism in tact, though it was slipping by the moment, considering the other party in the room had his head in a stack of papers and his feet in the air.

"Fucking hilarious," he snorted, though his expression was humorless. "It's not domestic abuse if he does it to everyone, genius. Just cause one poor bastard complains about it doesn't make it special."

I sighed, having the sudden urge to hurl him out the window. "That doesn't change the fact that it's wrong!" I paused, surveying his expression, which hadn't changed in the least. "It doesn't seem like I'm going to get the warrant, anyway."

He rolled over, reaching behind his head for a pen. "I could write you up one. I have the right to do that... plus, I'd piss West off. And at least it would inconvenience the bastard, ja?" He rifled through the papers that now surrounded him, swearing in German under his breath. Eventually, he must have found what he needed.

"Doesn't a warrant take longer than this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Yeah," he shrugged, sitting up to furiously scribble down a paragraph. "But who actually gives a shit, now and days? Corruption's just a part of it."

I questioned the nature of his comments, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I took it with a curt nod, letting my gaze fall to the writing. Everything seemed to be in order.

"Pocket it," he commanded, hopping to his feet. "Before West comes back. I didn't do a thing, you got that?"

Hell, now I was just questioning how legal this whole thing was. Regardless, I did what he said. I doubt it would have mattered to me either way, if it were legal or not. Perhaps I was overreacting, that there was nothing to worry about. Toris had turned to masochism when he was in no danger before, and there was no guarantee the scars weren't dated, from the distance I saw them at. It was hardly a form of deduction, either, just going off past experiences. I had seen him battered, bruised, the lashed on his back raw and bleeding… it hurt to think about. Part of it was to assure my vain hope that he wasn't lying. That everything really was fine. But my main objective, of course, was to get him away from Ivan. Even if he hadn't hurt him yet, he would. As long as Toris' mind wandered to other people, he would be in danger. Namely, his boyfriend and best friend, Feliks Łukasiewicz. And of course, to a lesser extent, I had to take some of the blame. But I would not be held responsible again.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," the Inspector growled, marching into his office with a short, spacey-looking brunet man in tow. "Last warning. Get out of my office, I'll deal with you later."

He shrugged in reply. "Whatever you say, West. See ya, Jonsey." In a flash, he was out the door, a soft chuckling heard as he made his way down the hallway.

"I apologize," he said with a grimace as he took in the sight of his desk. I thought I heard something vaguely like 'brother' and 'male whore', but I couldn't be sure. "What is it you wanted, again?"

"Nothing," I replied, remembering Gilbert's words. It may have been dishonest, but it was my best chance. "Sorry for bothering you, Inspector."

He furrowed his brow, suspicion clear in his eyes. "Good day, detective."

I left his office be fore he had the chance to interrogate me further. Just as I was getting out my cell phone to call Matthew, I ran headlong into my brother.

After a string of muffled apologies, he must have seen the severity in my eyes. "A-Al? What's wrong?"

"Hey, Matt?" I sent a quick glance around the hallway before pulling him into a corner, bringing my voice to a whisper. "Can you help me with something?" I drew the warrant from my pocket, sliding it to him. He readjusted his glasses, scanning the script with a crease in his brow.

"Ivan Braginski?" His eyes widened, looking at me as if I were mentally ill. "Why would you want to search his house?"

"Toris," I replied. He understood immediately.

He shook his head. Halfway to handing me back the paper, he hesitated. "Shouldn't you be asking Arthur for this, Al? I mean, he usually assigns and handles things like this… Wouldn't it be dishonest to just go without his approval?"

I shrugged, surprised at how successful I was at keeping my composure appear nonchalant. "Not really. I got the okay from Ludwig and his psycho brother." Well, not technically true, but close enough to avoid the brunt of a legal guilt trip. "Besides, he'd probably make matters worse." I met his eyes in expectance for him to agree with me, but he was still staring at the warrant. "Please, Matt. If nothing else, do it so I won't freak out over it along down the line."

He considered this for a moment. "I'll help you, but we're telling Arthur. He doesn't have to come. I just feel more comfortable with him knowing…"

I crossed my arms over my chest, but didn't object. "Hmm… does five work for you? And if you wouldn't mind…"

A small smile twitched at his lips. "I'll tell him for you, don't worry."

With respective thank yous, I went back to my office, mind reeling too fast about the positives of the situation to be too concerned with the more apparent negatives. I didn't know how long I sat there in my thoughts... I could have been working, I couldn't have been, it was superfluous. All I know is that sometime around two o clock I received another call on my cell phone. I vaguely recognized the number, but it wasn't saved in my contacts. Regardless, I answered it.

"Alfred Jones," I muttered, attempting to balance a pen on the tip of my nose to no avail. "What's up?"

"Ohmigawd," a flamboyant, but distinct voice came from the other end. Though the electronics of the phone ruined the effect somewhat, it was still painfully clear who it was. "You have no idea how long it took me to find your number! Especially since Liet doesn't leave a phone tree around like, anywhere. Not like I would be able to find it anyway, since he won't answer his phone. Tell me, what's the use of having a cell phone if you leave it off all the time?"

Feliks. Łukasiewicz. "Woah, slow down. What is it you need?"

"That dumbass Liet won't answer his phone," though I couldn't see his face, I could imagine a firm pout. "I've tried like, everything! And finally I got your number. I thought you might know something, because he obviously doesn't trust me enough." I must have taken too long to reply, when I really only thought it was a pause in his never ending word flow. "Oh, riddle me this, have you spoken to him lately? Like, at all?"

"Yes," I replied, to stop another one of his tangents. "I spoke to him earlier today, actually."

"Oh?" He replied, voice practically rising an octave from rage or excitement, I wasn't sure which. "Face to face? Through phone? Come on, I don't have all day. I just got off my flight and this... totally gross payphone runs out of minutes soon."

"Face to face," I answered. "Flight? Toris said you were in Poland."

"Yeah, was," I could practically hear the roll in his eyes. "Not anymore. I told him I was coming home for the weekend. Anyway, what all did he say?"

As much as this kid meant to Toris, I couldn't help but find myself a little hesitant to feed him information so freely. "He just wanted to check up, we haven't talked in a while."

He gave a rather loud snort. "Yeah, you aren't the only one. He hasn't called or written like, at all in the past month. Can't help but wonder if that bastard Russian has anything to do with it."

My heart gave a weak lurch. "I don't know... I mean, it's a possibility." If he hadn't told Feliks anything, what the hell did I expect? "If it makes you feel better, I work for the police..."

"Oh..." he trailed off. "Ew."

"And I'm going to investigate that very worry," I finished, with a light hiss.

"You are?" He questioned, pausing to yell at someone in the background. "Well, don't shut up about it! Where? When?"

As much as I was well aware legal jargon wouldn't phase him now that he was riled up, it wouldn't hurt to try. "That's err... confidential."

"Bullshit," I made the wise decision to pull my ear away from the receiver before he really started screaming. "Tell me! I have the right to know!"

"I know you do," I attempted to amend. "It's not that big of a deal, you can still see him. In fact, it'd be better if you could get to him as soon as possible."

"How am I supposed to know where the hell he is if he won't answer his phone?" He repeated, as if I were mentally retarded. "Why I called you, duh. A, what has he been hiding, and B, where is he? I know full well he isn't living alone."

"He's been pretty busy lately," I broached the subject hesitantly. "Which is why I think he hasn't spoken much..."

"And what has he been busy with?"

"Making new living arrangements until you were back."

"With..."

I took a deep breath, and dove in. "Ivan." A long, excruciating silence. Uncharacteristic, even. "Feliks?" Nothing. "Must have run out of time..." I closed my cell with the flick of a wrist, unsure if he had heard the last part or not. Either way, someone was getting screwed. And not in the good way, at that.

-------------------

After a while, Kirkland came in to drop off more paperwork, a largely unreadable expression on his features. As he turned on his heel to leave the office, he shot a curt message back my way.

"I won't interfere," he informed, like every word caused him physical pain. "But I'm driving the car."

"Why?" I shot back, leaning forward in my chair. He refused to turn around. "In case you've forgotten, I'm old enough to drive." Though it was accusatory by all means, I kept my tone intentionally teasing. I knew from experience nothing pissed him off more.

"Remember last time?" To my surprise, the teasing in his own voice quickly melted away to distain. "Where you ran into the lamppost? I don't have ADD, I'm driving the car. You'll just distract your brother."

My first instinct was to retaliate, and I did, of course, with faint mutterings and curses. But I had to remind myself that if I wanted Matt's help I had at least humor his requests. But that didn't mean I couldn't have a little fun. "Oh? What about the time you caused a three-way minor collision?"

"I was drunk," he muttered, turning around finally to send me a glare. "It was between fellow officers, we all had a laugh about it later."

"If by, had a laugh, you mean took it in the-" I taunted, but he cut me off with a few choice swear words and another firm reminder that he would be driving tonight. He stormed out of the room; face red from what was clearly both rage and embarrassment.

Really. It never got old.

-------------------

I had forgotten how windy the city could get in the mid-afternoon by the time I emerged from the building that day. Strands of my own blond hair whipped across my vision, the cold slicing through my clothing to the point where I had to unfold my trench coat from my arms, wrapping it tightly around my frame. Struggling to see, I managed to make my way to Arthur's squad car, Matthew a few paces behind me. The owner was already in the vehicle, fingers tapping against the inside window sill. Sunglasses obscured his gaze, but it was most probably dead set forward in a glare. I crawled into the front seat with a growl of protest from Arthur and a muffled sigh from my brother, and we were off. I gave them the best directions I could, though the GPS system (lucky bastard, of course Detective Kirkland has one.) picked up on it quite easily.

As the car sped forward, I became more and more aware of how nervous the whole ordeal was making me. My nails dug into the fabric of my black uniform slacks, my teeth unconsciously gritting together despite my best wishes. Wrong. It was beginning to feel that way, at least. I was betraying Toris' trust, someone who I could say with full assurance I never wanted to hurt as long as I lived. But that's what I was doing, wasn't I? There was a large chance I would just make things worse with my interference in his business. There was a chance, however slim, that he was being treated well. But there was still a part of my mind that convinced me I had to try. If I was careful, did everything right, asked the right questions and found the right evidence... I could save him from more of the hell he had so wrongfully endured for so many years. But if I wasn't able to do what was needed, if I left his house today without a single prize for my efforts, what would become of it? Would he hurt him for reaching out, even if it was just me filling in the blanks that were arguably even there? There wasn't even a guarantee I would be able to protect him in the event that did happen.

No. I couldn't let myself think like that. There was no way I would let myself fail on this.

We pulled up to the Braginski estate at five thirty, the sun nearly set against the horizon in the winter timing. Almost before I could fully get out of the car, Matthew's hand was in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're shaking," he informed me, holding me in place for a moment while Arthur rolled up the windows he had cracked. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, willing my frame to still. "No, I'm fine, I swear."

"If you're sure," he frowned, clearly unconvinced. However, with an annoyed tap from Arthur, we were sent on the path to the front door. However, with an annoyed tap on the window from Arthur, we were set on the path to the front door.

The estate itself was disproportionately large for a house of normally only one; the three-story semi-mansion was covered with vines, intertwining from the front gate across the lawn to the top of the roof. The lawn was in surprisingly good care, a few stray weeds but nothing more. With the quickly dwindling sunlight, it was easier to tell hardly any lights were on.

I pressed my fingers against the metal of the gate, expecting it at least to put up a fight, if not flat-out locked. However, at my lightest touch, it swung forward, leaving a clear cobblestone pathway to the door. I pushed my way through some overgrown shrubs that lined the fencing, the heel of my boots making an eerie clicking noise throughout the night.

I must have been in a daze by the time I reached the door, for Matthew caught my attention with, "Ring the doorbell." I did as told. No answer, but I heard a distinct rustling from inside, however faint. With his affirmation, I tried for the doorknob, which just like the gate, opened on command. We stepped into a small, high-ceilinged room, potted plants against the beige wall. Beyond that was an arch, giving way to the living room and kitchen, with the same height. To the left, chairs surrounded a quickly diminishing fire, a blanket sprawled across the couch, creases against the leather fresh. To the right, a kitchen, complete with barstools and hanging lights. From the balcony above the staircase, the row of doors was all firmly closed, no lights under any of them. I took a step into the room, the silence crushing down on my mind. Out of nervousness, I pulled the gun from its holster, nodding for my brother to do the same. Besides the crackling of the fire and us, the entire house seemed devoid of movement all together.

"Toris?" I called, the sound echoing throughout the stone of the living room wall. I was not even vaguely surprised to be given no answer.

"There's no one here," Matthew muttered, biting his lip. "Shall we just, ah, come back another time?"

"No," I argued. There was no good reason no one would be home... many logical ones, surely, but none that I was willing to believe in. "Let me just look around."

He was none too quick to nod his agreement. Nonetheless, I took off for the staircase, spiraling up to the second story. Each door was easy enough to open, but they all gave away to uninteresting sights. Empty bathrooms, storage closets, spare bedrooms... All just as dark and desolate as the last.

I must have checked it over a good two times before Matthew finally had the bright idea to inspect the next floor. It was thankfully simpler than the previous landing; just two rooms. The first one I checked, on the left, was perhaps the creepiest so far. It was not only completely empty, but it was unfinished, the luxurious carpet of the rest of the house giving way to concrete, stained in various places. The walls were equally as bare, a crème white color that was clear even in the darkness. A sole window was in the far back, the view outside obscured by a tightly drawn black shade. Perhaps worse than the physical appearance was the air of severity... the silence that encompassed the whole estate seemed to double here. The air was thick, almost difficult to breathe in though it had no particular smell or toxicity. I hadn't even stepped a foot in and I was crushed by the weight of it all, the blankness just staring me down... waiting. Almost like an invitation; a dare. Come inside.

Unnerved, I closed the door as quickly as possible, shuffling to the last room. The master bedroom. I wanted to rip open the door, to get rid of the air of hostility I had just faced. But instead, I was slow, deliberate. Nearly afraid. The lock gave a soft click, the door swinging open. My heart was immediately put at ease with the familiar frame of Toris sprawled across the bed, appearing to be in a deep sleep.

Despite hushed protests from Matthew, I crept forward, finding myself at the edge of the Lithuanian's rather large bed. He was as close to the window as the space would allow, his chest rising up and down in jutted, but even patterns. It pained me to disturb him, but I couldn't forget what I had come here for. As carefully as possible, I drew the sheet off his frame, revealing his pale, bare back. I couldn't bring myself to look, but when I did, I had to bite my fist to keep from crying out. His old wounds were visible, muted pink with age. That wasn't unsettling; I had seen them before, worked long nights to heal them. What made me sick were the three new, deep lashes across his skin, a bright red. I knew it. But that didn't make it any less awful. The part of me that was his friend had to be suppressed, however. One look at my uniform was all I needed to be reminded this was strictly business. Now that I had seen it, I just needed to get him to talk. I gently shook his shoulder, causing him to stir. His eyes opened a slit, before they were wide as saucepans.

"Ivan!" He cried, shooting himself to a sitting position in a matter of seconds. His hands wildly groped the bed sheets before finding me, as they blindly clawed to pull me down.

"Shh," I pleaded, placing a hand over his. Yet, it did nothing to settle him. "Shh, Toris. It's just me. Alfred."

"Alfred," he repeated my name, hands falling limp. He turned to me, eyes burning with tears. He seemed to finally take in my appearance, for he was back into a panic before I could do anything about it. "Why are you here? Your uniform... I told you not to worry! W-Why... Where's Ivan?"

Not quite prepared to explain to him the rest of his questions, I addressed the last one. "I haven't seen him here, Toris. It's just us three."

"Who told you to come?" He pressed, hardly lucid. "If it was Feliks... he doesn't know what he's talking about. I'm fine, Alfred! I'm fine..." He took in my words, face becoming even more distorted with worry. "H-He's not here?"

"Not that I know of," I informed him, yet again. "Do you have any idea?"

He shook his head. "I-I... he said he wasn't going to leave today... Please don't do anything to him..."

I couldn't promise him anything on that front. "I don't know where he is, then, Toris."

"He has to be here," he was back to clinging at my wrists. I drew myself to my knees, pressing a hand to his face. "He wouldn't lie to me about anything like that... Please, Alfred. Help me find him."

I sent a glance to Matthew, who was looking more and more unsure about the whole situation by the minute. And that was saying a lot. However, he gave a weak smile, even though it faltered quickly.

"We'll look around the house, okay?" I helped him to his feet, waiting patiently while he got dressed. He was more on edge than usual; reaching out for me every time I got too far away. He was visibly shaking, even with the relatively temperature of the house. His eyes had not returned to normal, either. They were still wide, fearful. And even with the evidence on his back, (which he seemed to have not registered I had seen) I had to wonder... what exactly had happened to him? From the time I had last seen him to now, even, things had obviously gotten worse.

"We've checked every room," my brother reminded me after we had left the room, his eyes cast downward. "W-We got what we came here for, we shouldn't stretch things more... Arthur will get angry..."

"I'm aware," I shrugged, keeping my hold on Toris firm. "Still, I'd like to take legal action on this as soon as possible." Luckily for me, Toris was too out of it to register my words.

"If you say so," he agreed. "Just know, he's probably going to take it out on you, eh..."

"Nothing I'm not used to," I gave a sardonic smile. "Back to the matter at hand... we haven't checked the first floor very carefully."

"But wouldn't he have heard us come in?" He asked, brushing back his hair.

"You'd like to think so. But it's worth a check, at the very least."

We found ourselves back in the living room, peering down a hallway behind the staircase. It wasn't apparent from walking in the house the first time, not to mention I had been too eager to search the higher floors. It was lined with two more doors on one side, three pictures (of Ivan's sisters, I assumed) on the other. At the end was another corner, giving away to the exit way to the backyard.

I reached for the first doorknob, but Toris' voice stopped me dead in my tracks. "No."

"Hmm?" I asked, turning to him. There was a new determination in his eyes, though of course the fear was still painfully present.

"He doesn't let me go down there," he explained. "The basement. He doesn't go down there, either..."

I couldn't help myself from inquiring. "Why not?"

It was easy to tell from the way he squirmed that the simple answer he gave was not the real one. "It's unfinished."

"So is the room upstairs," I reminded him, trailing off near the end.

His face was almost a stark white by this point. "H-He... we don't go in there, either."

"We'll be fine," I said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I promise. I'll protect you if anything happens."

He slowly pushed my fingers away, opening the door. He flicked on the light switch to the left of the threshold, a bare light bulb in the staircase fluttering to life. It emitted a soft hum, illuminating the pathway. The stairs were concrete, but it appeared as if someone had made an attempt to paint them. Specks of white littered the gray of the steps and along the walls as well, though the job was far from perfect. At the bottom of the steps was a windowsill, from which I could see the green of the front lawn through a crack in the coverings. Unlike the room above the stairs, it was not giving off an eerie feeling in the least. It was just blank. Not average, but rather absolute nothingness. It was easier to deal with than the hostile environment above, at least. Yet, it was just as barren. Though I couldn't see around the corners, there was nothing in my immediate eye line; just more gray concrete with various white splotches.

I lead the way down the stairs, Matthew and Toris right behind. A moth fluttered around the light; a rarity for the season. I raised an eyebrow, but thought nothing of it. It appeared to be on its last legs as it was. As we reached the base, Matthew gently put his arm on my hand.

"Do you hear that?" He asked, taking a step to the left.

"Hear what?" I immediately replied, though as soon as I strained my hearing, I picked up on it. The sound of liquid falling rhythmically against metal. I followed my brother's footsteps, turning the corner left. Toris was back to violently shivering, so I took back his hand, leading him towards the origin.

It didn't take long for the source to be in my sight. The only other windowsill in the basement was dark red, all views of the outside world obscured by the color. Through a slit in the opening, blood was falling against the sill, slowed from the looks of it. The metal was already coated, fresh from the soft shine against the surface.

Before I could fully register what was happening, Toris was running back up the stairs at a full sprint. Matthew took after him, drawing his gun once again. I tried to follow immediately afterwards, but my feet were rooted to the ground. With the last ounce of sense I had, I picked up my pager.

"Requesting backup," I yelled, breath labored and furious. "Again, requesting immediate backup."

I heard the beginning of an affirmation, but I had turned it off and was up the stairs before they could even finish the first word. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there. The walls seemed to be closing around, the darkness swallowing up every ray of light in the room. I could hardly breathe, the air becoming thick and sticky, the stench of metallic overwhelming.

I reached the ground landing too slowly for my taste, looking around wildly for where the two would have gone. The door to the backyard lay ajar, the screen waving in the wind. I ran towards it, catching myself on the threshold to turn towards what I knew to be the window opening.

It took all I had not to throw up on the spot.

Toris was kneeled over, face obscured with his slouch. Matt stood at his side, talking in hushed whispers into his pager, though he was clearly panicked. But beyond that was another body face-up against the glass of the windowsill, bleeding heavily. I took cautious steps closer, the details blurred with my vision, but still clear as day.

The flesh had been ripped off the entire upper torso, the shirt of the body removed. Bones and muscles were clearly prominent, from the tips of both elbows to the base of his neck. Though his hair obscured his facial features, it was easy to tell immediately exactly who it was. Ivan Braginski.

I was too numb to even contemplate reacting at this point, though my chest was quickly constricting around itself, my breath again coming up short. My vision was completely blurred, hard to even make out colors from one another. In the haze, I almost missed police sirens, or Arthur's presence at my side. Or even a blonde man dragging Toris away from the body.

Soon enough, multiple policemen were appearing all around, ambulance workers loading up a stretcher. I hardly realized it, or even registered anything that was happening anymore. My thoughts had shut down.

One thing had caught my attention, though.

"Toris Lorinaitis, you're being arrested under suspicion of murder," someone's voice commanded, I assumed either Ludwig or Gilbert. A click of handcuffs. Shrill protests from Feliks. My own objections as my feet carried me towards the direction of the voice. Arthur's arms clamped around mine, holding me firmly in place, Matthew's hand against my shoulder.

The last thing I really remembered from that scene was Arthur guiding me back to the squad car in silence.