CHAPTER 2
"Je ne peux pas vous croire!"
Alice listened quietly. She was grateful that they had the whole Sick Bay to themselves; it was pretty unusual for there not to be at least five people down with some sort of bug or an injury. Still, they kept a thick woolen curtain around the medical bed – which was about as soft as a rock.
The English woman had been stripped of her blouse and coat, revealing dark and jagged scars across her body. A horizontal scar traced her stomach. Stomach cancer surgery, Berlin. It was the oldest scar. Two holes marked against her pale skin, just above her kidneys. Sicily, Italy. Mafia war break out. The second oldest.
Her shoulder was blanketed with another bullet hole and a long jagged scar that stretched across her collar bone, which was the result of the constant tear that the bullet wound had gone through. Work, Vash Zwingli. Mafia sniper and ex-suspect. Third oldest.
The biggest and most painful scars were the two on the center and left side of her chest. A foot-long scar ran down from the tip of her collar bone to the mid of her ribcage. Another was a large, fist-shaped star-like scar. Heart surgery and stabbing, each caused by Lutz Beildschmidt. Fourth and fifth, respectively.
Each with some twisted story to tell that really just belonged in some cheesy novel. She watched as her boyfriend of two years continued on his rant in French gibberish. Some of it she couldn't even translate, he was going so fast.
"Je sais quo votre travail est important pour vous, je comprends. Mais pourriez-vous au moins essayer de vous mettre dans mes chaussures?!" Francis Bonnefoy was on a rampage. Alice simply stared at him, a fond but irritated smile on her face. Ex-rich boy and player of France, this Frenchman was surely enough to handle. Usually a lover and worrier; not a fighter, it was weird to see him get so worked up over something. Then again, he was very protective over Alice and his son, Matthew ever since the incident with Lutz.
It had been a two years and a half since the Beildschmidt case.
They had nicknamed it the Crime of the Century, but Alice couldn't have cared less. A madman had run rampant through London – her London – and that was unacceptable. She would never allow that to happen again. She would never let anyone like that come near her family again. Simple enough. Case closed.
But it wasn't just a simple case. It never had been.
Lutz had not only sent ripples across London but the entire world. His tale had cast shivers down the spines of every capital in the world. Any and all trading with the German empire had been cautious and slowed. Even tourism had dropped dramatically. It hadn't been that bad since the last economic bust, which was twenty-two years ago.
The fact that Lutz was connected to the Italian Mafia and the Beildschmidt family had been kept a secret from the whole world, courtesy of Lovino Vargas.
The Vargas family ruled over the entirety of the Underground of Italy. They had connections across the world, the recent additions being the Beildschmidt mechanical factoring empire and a group of infamous Spanish pirates.
Alice knew all of them personally and honestly was quite unimpressed.
Lovino could simply be described as an Italian midget with expensive tastes and a constant state of PMS. His brother, Feliciano Vargas, was the exact opposite, personality-wise and pretty much only said: "Pasta~!" or "Doitsu~!" Antonio – Captain Dickwad – was by far the most annoying air pirate in existence. The Beildschmidt family – Gilbert, the oldest and Ludwig, the youngest – were all right, from what Alice had seen. Ludwig didn't talk much and when he did, it was ninety percent about work and ten percent complaining about his older brother and Feliciano. Gilbert was the polar opposite of Ludwig, that much she could tell, even if it was a fifteen-minute conversation.
It had been quiet.
Alice hadn't heard from any of them since the Beildschmidt case. Not even from Kiku, Elizabeta, or Berwald. The Fox and the Goblin had closed down just a few months ago from the sudden lack of customers. No one from the Mafia was there at the closing day. Not even Yao or his other children.
She had conflicting feelings about this. On one hand, that meant that London was safer than ever before. The Mafia had retreated and crime had dropped a bit since the Beildschmidt case. No one ever dared to defy Alice once they found out who she was. Her salary had increased, which was always a good thing, and people had started respecting her. That was different from usual.
But on the other hand…
"Francis?"
Her boyfriend stopped mid-rant to look down at her. His indigo eyes softened at the sight of her shivering frame. "What is it, darling?"
"I'm sorry. I know I should've waited for back-up." She watched his eyes harden for a second. "I won't do it again. Promise."
At that, he visibly relaxed. Kirklands weren't often that reliable, but if they made you a promise, you could be as sure as that the sun will rise, that they would keep their promise. Francis sat down next to her on the hard bed. His warm hands ran over the several scars on her body. "Try to take care of yourself." He sighed, kissing the corner of her neck. "If not for yourself, zen at least for ze people zat care about you." She nodded and their lips met.
XXX
Alice watched on, smiling.
Ivan Braginski was kneeling on the glistening wooden floors. Her brother – Alfred – stood above him, one hand clasped over his mouth and another outstretched to Ivan. She paid close attention to his watery, joy-filled expression. It was possibly the happiest Alice had ever seen him.
"Alfred F. Jones, love of my life, and boyfriend of five years, would you do the honor of making me the happiest man alive?" Ivan asked, stuttering slightly at the end. It was cheesy. It was a horrible proposal, honestly, but Alfred loved those kinds of things that looked like it popped out of a two-pound chic-flick.
He nodded mutely. "Yes…Yes, yes, yes… You big idiot, yes!" Alfred sobbed happily and Alice felt a ball of warmth swarm in her chest. She didn't even realize that she was wearing the goofiest grin until everyone in the room was. Even Natalia, Ivan's bro-con of a little sister, was smiling softly in the opposite corner of the room. The Russian's and American's lips collided and a round of applause roared through the house.
It was a nice house. It was in a quiet part of London – that in itself was hard to find – and it was close enough to Alfred and Ivan's work that they wouldn't have to catch a train, which would be costly enough for the new couple. The house had been a big project and so was this whole proposal business. It had taken almost a year of planning and lots of outside help. She still remembered that day that Ivan had pulled her aside some time after the Lutz case.
"Braginski? What are you doing here?" Alice raised an eyebrow at Ivan. "Alfred's not here, sorry. He's out on patrol for another two hours."
Ivan nodded, fidgeting slightly. Huh. Weird. "I know, I – I wanted to speak to you, Alice."
Her eyebrows sky-rocketed and her jaw went slack for a moment. Alice? He had a hard time calling her Kirkland! Most of the time it was some Russian cuss word. And Ivan received the same treatment from her. "Um, well, come in then? Ivan?" Alice cursed her stuttering and tried to compose herself.
"Spasibo," Ivan said, walking into her office.
"Um, sorry about the mess." Alice looked around the cluttered room. "I wasn't expecting any visitors."
"Da." Was all that he said.
"I take it that this is about Alfred, then?" Ivan nodded. "Right, well, what seems to be the problem?"
Ivan shook his head. "No problem. Well, maybe." He paused and looked up at her. "Alfred doesn't know this, but I've been working on a secret project at work."
She frowned, watching him fiddle with his thumbs. "How come Alfred doesn't know?"
"I want it to be a surprise." He sighed and looked up at Alice, violet eyes burning. "And I've nearly succeeded. I'm working with other lawyers across Britain to help make same-sex marriage possible."
Her eyes widened. "That's quite a project."
Ivan nodded. "Right now, about sixty-percent of the public agrees with same-sex marriage."
Alice nodded. "Yeah, I saw that in a paper once. So, you've nearly got it legalized? Good for you."
He gave a half-hearted smirk. "I should hope so. I've been working on this for nearly since I started dating Alfred."
Alice smirked. She had a feeling it was going this way. "That would explain why Alfred has been a bit gloomy this past week. He dislikes being ignored, you know."
Ivan's face dropped for a bit. "I know. I'll make it up to him." He looked at her. "I want your permission to marry him."
Alice's smirk grew. "Took quite a bit of your pride to say that, then?"
Ivan's expression dulled. "Da."
"Why me?"
"Alfred's parents – both biological and adoptive – are dead. You're the only one who he considers family left alive." Ivan swallowed. "And also, because you're important to him. As much as I hate it, you'll always be in our lives. Whenever we have problems, he comes to you. Alice, you're one of the most important people in his life and I think that if he does accept, we're going to have to get along. For Alfred."
She laughed. She actually laughed at him. "You're a moron." Alice grinned at him. "You have no idea how much he loves you, do you? What do you need help with?"
Yekaterina, Natalia, and Alice had banned together – momentarily forgetting their differences – for the sake of their brothers. Kate – as Yekaterina preferred to be called – was a real estate agent, so finding a house at a good price and in a good neighborhood was easy. Natalia's boyfriend, Toris Lorinaitis, worked in the moving business, so she had him and his friends move Alfred and Ivan's furniture for free. Toris was a nice man. Timid, but nice. And a masochist, obviously, seeing as his girlfriend had a thing for knives. Alice had seen Natalia at her work a few times. Nothing serious, yet. But that was the key word with the Belarusian girl: yet.
Alice hadn't done that much. It was mostly little jobs here and there. She helped Ivan pick the engagement ring, dealt with the catering for the party, and adjusted Alfred's schedule to keep him busy so that he wouldn't suspecting anything.
Alice watched her little brother smile up brightly at Ivan. Yes. Alfred was happy and he deserved than this more than anyone else.
"Hello, Ms. Alice." She turned to see Toris.
"Oh, hello, Toris." Alice looked at the timid man. His light brown hair was tied back and he had put on his best clothes: A green swirling waistcoat, slacks, and black oxfords. "How's the, uh, moving business going?"
"Fine." Natalia appeared next to her boyfriend, glaring darkly at Alice. The English woman was used to it, by now. The Belarusian looked like a doll of sorts, porcelain skin, silvery hair, long lashes that hid her violet eyes. Her silk blue dresses glided across the floor.
Beautiful, yes, but no amount of beauty could make up for the fact that Natalia was the biggest bitch Alice had ever met.
"Ah, Natalia." She said, dryly. Alice hadn't been born with enough middle fingers for Natalia. "It's a nice turnout, I must say."
"Oh, yes! It is, isn't it?" Yekaterina bounded over. Well, she walked normal enough. Her breasts bounded for her.
Natalia got a bitter look on her face as her sister arrived. "Big brother deserves better."
"And who did you have in mind?" Alice raised an eyebrow, glaring darkly at her.
"Anyone would've been better than that disgusting American brat." Natalia snarled back.
"Our brothers are happy and that's all that matters. Do try and be a little less selfish this once." She narrowed her eyes at Natalia. "Good day, Natalia. I hope you get hit by a car on your way home." And with that, Alice left, looking for her boyfriend.
XXX
She found Francis in the waiting room, which was unoccupied.
"Frog, are you all right?" Alice asked, sitting next to him.
He looked up at her, a goofier than usual smile on his face. "Oh, ma reine~" The smell of vodka came over her. Great.
"How much did you drink?" She asked.
He just giggled. "Je t'aime, Alice."
Alice gave him a soft grin. "Je t'aime aussi, grenouille."
Francis' smile widened at that. He hiccuped slightly. "We've been dating a long –" He hiccupped again. "time, eh?"
She nodded, slipping her hand into his smoother one. There was no way he'd remember this in the morning. "Two years."
"'ow long were you wiz him?" Francis asked, looking slightly sad.
Alice frowned. It was unusual for Francis to ask about her ex-fiancé. He generally got grumpy whenever it was mentioned, so she just didn't. Alice had discovered over their time of dating that Francis was more of the jealous type. You wouldn't think he was, considering his motto was something like "spread love to the world", but he was indeed just a tad bit jealous. Alice loved it, secretly. Plus, it was always fun to rile him up.
"Well, we dated for about three years, if that's what you mean." Alice offered.
He looked down, forlorn. Oops. "…Another year, huh?"
"Another year?" Alice repeated. "Another year until what?"
The Frenchman leaned in close to her, taking his free hand and cupping her face. His thumb ran across her cheek. "Une autre année jusqu'à ce que je peux te faire mienne ... officiellement." Her heart thudded against her chest and she didn't know why until her brain finally processed what he had just said. Francis kissed her. It was different than usual kisses. This one was powered by alchohol and lust.
Alice melted instantly.
Her free hand reached up and dug itself into his blonde hair, pulling him closer to her. They pulled away after a while. Panting, Alice watched him with careful eyes. She didn't know what he meant by that. Well, she had a suspicion, but that didn't mean she was going to believe it. Not unless it came straight from his mouth. Alice was not going to make stupid decisions just because of a marriage proposal had made her feel nicer than usual. "Frog, I don't know what you're talking about, but –"
And then her walkie-talkie rung.
Translations:
Je ne peux pas vous croire! = I cannot believe you!
Je sais que votre travail est important pour vous, je comprends. Mais pourriez-vous au moins essayer de vous mettre dans mes chaussures?! = I know your job is important to you, I get it. But could you at least try to put yourself in my shoes?!
Doitsu~! = Germany~!
Spasibo = Thank you.
Da = Yes.
Ma reine~ = My queen~.
Je t'aime, Alice = I love you, Alice.
Je t'aime aussi, grenouille. = I love you too, frog.
Une autre année jusqu'à ce que je peux te faire mienne ... officiellement. = Another year until I can make you mine ... officially.
