"Why is he doing that?" Arthur asked, confused as Matthew sat with him, trying to help calm Alfred down in his sleep.
They didn't seem to get along that much, or trust each other, without Alfred acting as a social lubricant. They both had respective reasons to distrust the other, and so they would not see eye to eye.
"Do you not dream, Arthur?" Matthew gave him a strange look, and Arthur shook his head, turning back to watch his beloved.
"I don't even know what that is, so probably not." Arthur admitted, rubbing Alfred's forehead slowly, as Alfred twisted and groaned in…whatever this was. "He called them nightmares…but I don't understand. What are they? It doesn't make any sense."
Matthew sighed, and nodded. "Well, I wondered at some of the other differences between humans and…whatever you are, precisely." He ran a hand through his hair as Arthur filled him in.
"We're called naga." He murmured, and Matthew looked at him in shock.
"Wait- there are more of you?" Matthew stammered in sudden confusion, and Arthur raised an eyebrow in utter disdain.
He made a face, wondering if he should dignify that with a response. "Well, obviously I didn't burst from thin air." He muttered.
Matthew looked baffled, and vaguely afraid, but he nodded. "Well, where are they?"
And Arthur closed his eyes, and sighed, looking to Alfred's face to avoid the purple stare of the other human.
"I don't know." Arthur admitted, barely speaking.
"Surely, you remember the last time you saw them?" Matthew clarified, furrowing his brows as the cogs in his head worked, attempting to figure out where the faux pas was.
"Yes." Arthur agreed, hesitantly. "It had been time for…for the cold, and…" He sighed. "Once moment, they were with me, the next time I opened my eyes…"
The empty feeling of knowing no pack was hard to express in words.
"They weren't there. I was in a glass case, for how long, I couldn't say…but at some point, Alfred found me." He looked away, thinking back to that moment where he had been alone for the first time.
A lot of things were just this way because they were- that was what his mother had told him after he had been born. A lot of things were just this way because they were.
He had grown up in a large pack of his kind- the Naga, even though they were in captivity. He had had his mother, and his many brothers to keep him company year after year of tedious life under humans. The ones in the white lab had spent years coming at him with small white things that made his thoughts go slow or made them speed up, they came at him with metal knives that cut and prod, and sharp things that they stuck in his arm. They had come at all of them with that.
His name was Arthur, he had learnt that from watching the humans often enough- And "Arthur" was used only in reference to himself, so he had figured out that was his human name. However, he had attempted to speak to him, and had said "Arthur" in the thick sounding human language and pointed to himself, and they had paled considerably, and he was given the mask that put him to sleep again.
The humans didn't speak around them any longer after that.
And this was how things just were. There wasn't an explanation to it. This was how they lived- survived. They didn't cause a fuss for the humans, who outnumbered even the whole pack.
But because they didn't struggle… that it wasn't that way any longer.
After this particular years hibernation, Arthur woke up alone, in a big glass case, with a top he couldn't reach, and only little air holes on top, making breathing hard for him only hours after waking up in it.
There were blankets and bedding materials, but nowhere that he could hide, and he felt so vulnerable. He paced at first, wondering where his pack was, but there was no answer to his cries for help.
The temperature got colder in the glass case, and he figured that it was humans that were doing that, and Arthur's body simply wouldn't allow him to keep going once it got that cold. He curled up in the blanket, which smelled of nothing, not even himself, and he cried, and cried, until the cold claimed him once again.
He had lived only 7 years on this earth, yet this was the first year he would be spending alone, and he wasn't even fully grown yet- he was going to reach adulthood in perhaps another 3 or so cold times...
The only things he knew about himself was that he had been named Arthur, and he hated this place so terribly much.
"Arthur?" Matthew was calling him, and Arthur snapped back to the present. "You spaced out on me…. what were you thinking about?" He asked, confused, and sounding frightened. Arthur felt how his fangs were bared at the memory, and he put them away.
"…" He sighed. "Thinking about my pack..." Sometimes it was better to not tell them these things, and so he left it at that.
Matthew seemed to accept that for an answer. "That's awfully sad…" He murmured.
"I suppose so." Arthur said. "I don't dwell on it… Alfred…" He couldn't finish that sentence. He wasn't willing to disclose how close he was to Alfred to a stranger who he associated mildly with pain.
Matthew only nodded.
XXXXX
However, Alfred didn't wake in the morning, remaining unconscious.
And Matthew was growing worried.
"He should be awake…" The other human murmured, gulping. "This isn't good…"
"What do we do?" Arthur asked, staring down at Alfred, green eyes wide with concern, more than willing to go along with Matthew's opinion, as long as he talked with him before doing anything. "He's sick, you helped me then… can't you help him?"
The other human looked rather surprised. "You remember that?" He asked, and Arthur rolled his eyes.
Of course. He didn't even bother answering him. It was why it was so bad that he couldn't remember what had happened to his pack, or even how much time had passed between being separated and now.
Matthew sighed. "Well…I think…I think he needs to come with me." Matthew said, firm. "I am not a doctor, I'm a student. And my opinion is that this is out of my league. Surely you realize that when you were sick, you were taken to the doctor, and out of your home, right?"
Even though the word "home" to describe his prison was a little crude, Arthur remembered the day he was rescued…he remembered it better than any other day that he was trapped there.
He didn't know where the humans had gone.
It had been many, many nights since he had seen them last.
He lay on the glass floor, seeking the cool that was still there.
The cooling device broke, he thought at one point. Perhaps they were just waiting for him to die.
That had been many, many days ago. But time was hard to keep track of here, with no one to talk to, nothing to look at…
Arthur remained outstretched, wondering how his life had turned out this way even as his thoughts dwindled into animalistic fear and acceptance, that he was going to die here.
Hopeless green eyes blinked absently at the world around him, waiting for death.
However, he then saw an unfamiliar human walk by- though maybe he was familiar. He couldn't see very well anymore. The world went upside down again…. he didn't know why that happened but it did… but he felt sick, so sick…the vertigo made his eyes roll up into his head.
The unfamiliar human screamed, bringing more, loud feet suddenly stomping toward him, but he couldn't find the energy to do more than lay still, his stomach up in the air and his eyes rolling up into his head. Maybe if they thought he was dead…?
They were talking with someone who wasn't in the room. And then the path cleared. It was another human. He had bright blue eyes, and he walked to Arthur's cage, entirely unafraid, and looked him over, his face softening.
And then he lifted off the lid.
Arthur couldn't even sit up, and so he watched as the human looked over his body once again, trying not to look at his tail, Arthur's head feeling strange as he thought it was slightly weird he was seeing the human's face from this angle.
The human was talking, but Arthur didn't pick up a lot of words.
"…. Not leaving him...sick…please…break this thing open…."
The human was talking about him… was…. was he setting Arthur free?
The one named Marshall ran out of the door as the humans gathered around his cage, and Arthur stared, his heart clenching in fear, as he couldn't understand them. One of them was saying "he's" afraid of snakes" and Arthur vaguely understood they were referring to the one that had run away.
"Amazing." The blue eyed human said, with a small smile on his face, and he kept speaking, but Arthur picked up the end. "…Understand us." and then the question tilt.
Arthur curled up in a ball, staring at the human as he clenched tight on himself at the sound of breaking glass, unable to stop his head from tilting back uncomfortably or how his body shook in fear, though he nodded at the question.
"…Not…hurt you…" The blue eyed one said in a soft voice. "I'm Alfred…out of here…. promise."
The human had gotten rid of the burning hot bad sensation, and had brought him out of the bad place altogether. Alfred had taken care of him, kept him safe.
Arthur's thumb was slowly rubbing circles around Alfred's hand, having gripped it unconsciously. Alfred would be best with him, right? Arthur was pack, and pack meant safety…well, perhaps Arthur needed Alfred more than the other way around, but seeing how his beloved was hurt, it enacted a sense of a need for protection…
And then Matthew triggered that, and picked Alfred up, taking Alfred's hand and putting it over the unconscious man. Arthur hissed in surprise, panicking at how Matthew was going to take Alfred away, and the other human misinterpreted his sounds.
"Get back!" Matthew said, sharply, afraid of Arthur. Arthur hadn't realized that Matthew had picked up the gun, and now was pointing it at Arthur.
It caused sentient thought to leave his mind, his pupils going wide and crouching on the ground.
Flight or fight.
If he ran, he might live- if he fought, he might keep Alfred with him.
He fought, leaping at Matthew blindly. He wasn't assured life if he ran. Alfred was his life anyway. Life wasn't worth living without a pack- Arthur knew that, and Alfred was already doing silly things like that.
Wrong choice.
He felt the pain in his shoulder as suddenly, he was forced back by the power of the gunshot, and saw as pack was taken. Arthur spat in anger and pain, chasing after Matthew, before he felt another shot, this time in the area between his chest and tail. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!
And he lay there, watching as his pack was stolen.
Alfred… Alfred… Alfred….
Sobs tore through him as pain wracked his body.
Words were stolen from him.
Alfred…Alfred…
He was dizzy, and his survival instincts were taking over, the snake man looking at the door hopelessly, helplessly, his heart screaming for him as his body screamed for a release from pain.
Alfred…
XXXXX
Alfred woke up in a hospital room.
"Jesus…" He muttered, his throat dry, and his body aching.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Alfred." A nurse said, smiling. "We thought we had lost you there for a bit, but you made it."
"What happened?" He asked, rubbing his aching temples and closing his eyes.
"Your body went into withdrawal from a lot of drugs." She admitted plainly. "You're going to need to stay with us for a bit, and answer some of our questions."
Alfred's eyes widened suddenly, jolting awake. "Arthur!" He shouted, before he realized, attempting to sit up, that his hands were handcuffed to the bed.
He looked to her, and she simply nodded sadly.
"We were told you tried to do something bad…" She murmured, gentle.
"No, no, you don't understand! I need to get back to my house! I can't stay here." He argued, desperate, and the nurse sighed, looking like she was tired.
"Unfortunately Mr. Jones, your brother already admitted you. Until you pass the therapist's approval, unfortunately, you'll have to stay here."
This wasn't just a hospital, oh no.
Alfred had landed himself in a goddamned psych ward.
XXXXX
As Alfred had found out, he had already been there for a whole week when he had woken up, and now it had been a week and a half.
Days itched by terribly slowly. They monitored med intakes, and forced "therapy sessions" on him. It was awful, all of it.
He needed to get back to his house, find out how Arthur was managing on his own, find out which goddamned idiot had locked him up…
They had said his brother had done it, and Alfred's vehement dislike of not being allowed to leave only grew. He didn't even know this person.
Oh god…what if…what if they had killed Arthur?
He could already see it- some stranger coming to Alfred's door, Arthur answering it in a tizzy, needing someone to help, and perhaps thinking it was Alfred's family, even though Alfred had never spoken about it.
The person freaking out, Arthur freaking out, and somehow, it ended with Arthur dead, and Alfred in a psych ward.
Worry ate him from the inside out. Arthur hadn't done well with being apart from Alfred for a few days, back in Afghanistan, and that was before they had spent essentially every waking moment together, for literally months on end.
However, there was good news. He would be allowed to go home the next day, under the knowledge that he would be visiting a therapist to evaluate his medication needs.
He glared at the therapist anyway, hating her and hating whoever had put him here.
XXXXX
The bad human was shouting in pain, and he felt blood on his lips. He licked them.
Good. Now go away.
The bad human kept shouting at him, and then kicked the container that Arthur had shoved himself into, knocking him around inside of it, making Arthur his in terror, in fear.
Bad human's stomps left the room, and Arthur shook and shivered, feeling awfully cold and woozy. He injured by bad human. Had pack taken away, stolen. Pack sick, needed to be with pack, not taken…
He had to admit, bad human was awfully persistent with trying to make him come out of the container. First food, then drugged water, and now simply trying to surprise him and grab him. He didn't go away, like most predators would when they'd realize they couldn't get him without getting bitten.
The bad human walked in again, and Arthur hissed angrily at him, green eyes staring from the container, body tight against the back end of it.
Bad human was shouting at him again, and Arthur hissed louder, spitting and growling gutturally at it to try and make him go away.
But bad human didn't try and grab him. No. He simply shut the door, trapping Arthur there.
He hissed loudly in panic, suddenly encapsulated in utter darkness, alone, pack missing, him sick, him sick, him hurt, him hurt!
He scratched at the exit, but when he felt bad human kick him, he stopped, curling up in the darkness, shivering hopelessly, before tears started again. Bad human please help pack help Arthur help Arthur bad human hurt Arthur steal pack where pack Alfred beloved Alfred pack help Alfred beloved missing help please help hurts help hurt hurts HURTS…
His pleas in his native tongue didn't reach anyone as the temperature dropped suddenly, shocking him with how intense the change was, and Arthur buried his head in the bloodstained blanket, and let out weak, muffled cries of pain, until he was too tired to cry, and unconsciousness claimed him.
XXXXX
Alfred unlocked his door in nervousness, calling out quietly. "Hello? Arthur?" He asked, and his stomach dropped, because he heard nothing. "I-it's okay…I'm home… you can come out now…"
There was no reply, and Alfred's stomach clenched. "Oh god, please don't be dead…" Alfred said, biting his lip and kept looking around, walking into the living room.
What surprised him was the medical student from Afghanistan, sleeping upright on his couch.
"What the fuck!" He shouted, making Matthew jump up, and look straight at Alfred, his pupils going small and avoiding his gaze. "…Matthew? What are you doing here?"
"…uhm." He coughed. "Well. I…I told my dad that…that once I was home from Afghanistan, that I would…get in contact with you."
Alfred stared at him, like he'd grown a second head.
"Look! Okay, my dad gave me the address, and I found you unconscious on the floor!" Matthew shouted, angry, avoiding Alfred's gaze. "I didn't know that you were…you were!" He gestured helplessly at Alfred. "You know!"
"Matthew. Where is Arthur?" He asked, worried. "I've never left him alone for this long, he doesn't handle separation that well."
"H-he wasn't here." Matthew said, swallowing thickly. "I only found you."
Alfred's hands trailed down to Matthew's, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion at the bandages.
"You're lying." Alfred said, coldly. "Tell me, where is Arthur." Blue eyes stared at Matthew's face, and Matthew caved.
"Look! He started hissing at me!" He shouted. "He wasn't going to let me leave with you, you were unconscious- we couldn't wake you up!" Matthew said, angry. "I was scared as shit because he had tried to grab you again, and he was following me and hissing, but, he ignored me when I told him to stay back, and so I drew the gun at him, and I gave him a last warning!"
Alfred stared, horrified, his whole body tense. "Oh my god, you shot him."
"Of course I did! He lunged at me!" Matthew glared. "You kept an aggressive animal here, of course I was going to shoot him if he attacked! And I did it again when he lunged for you despite the first shot!"
"Oh my god." Alfred's eyes were tearing up, and he gulped as he tried to explain. "M-Matthew, from his perspective you threatened us first- Arthur…Arthur hisses at anything negative. Fear, anger, panic, it all causes him to hiss. He was probably scared to death, and you set off his flight or fight response with the threat of the gun…oh my god." Tears dripped down his face. "Oh my god. Arthur…Arthur…He's dead, isn't he?"
"I didn't kill him." Matthew scowled in irritation. "Once you were at the hospital, I came back, and he had lodged himself in that log thing we made for him to hibernate in. He was alive, as evidenced by all the bite marks the stupid animal gave me."
"What happened after that?" Alfred asked, expectant, hope blossoming in his stomach. "You gave him water, and pain medication, at the very least, right?"
Matthew froze. "Uhm." He gulped.
"What?" Alfred asked, staring. "Where is it? Where is Arthur?"
Matthew looked around desperately, avoiding Alfred's question, and frustrating him greatly. "He-he ran away…I…"
However, Matthew's frequent nervous glancing at the broom closet…it told Alfred enough, and Alfred pushed past him to open it, finding the container lodged in the back.
Alfred tore it out, but there was no sound or movement from within. "Arthur?" He asked, his heart pounding, looking it over, and then his heart sinking abruptly when he saw the thermostat.
It was only slightly above freezing, resting at about 38 degrees Fahrenheit.
Partially dried blood oozed from the bottom air holes of the container.
"Oh my god." Alfred couldn't even look at Matthew, horrified, angry, upset, grieving. "You've killed him."
"I-I…!" Matthew said, shocked at the hate that was given to him after Alfred gently, tenderly set down the box and turned to stare at him. "He-he! He attacked me! Why doesn't that matter?!"
"You murdered him! Get out! Get the fuck out of my house! Murderer!" Alfred shouted; his face scrunched up in agony and animosity as he stood to defend Arthur's enclosure from any further harm. "Get out! Or I'll show you how fucking great it is to be fucking shot and left to die from blood loss or infection!"
Matthew didn't need much convincing, turning tail and running, before Alfred sagged suddenly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he stared with a broken heart and a sickened stomach at the enclosure that had become Arthur's tomb.
And he cried, going over to the enclosure and looking at it brokenly, not really even sure if he wanted to open it to see Arthur's corpse, debating burying it like it was.
He had only stayed alive because Arthur had needed him. That was why he hadn't pulled the trigger. Without him, Arthur had no one else.
But now he was dead, murdered, probably for only trying to help Alfred, or at least stay with him.
Alfred touched the box, turning off the air conditioning that made it so cold inside, and sobbed again, gently crying Arthur's name.
Minutes passed slowly, but he had run out of tears to cry once again, and he gently laid his head on the enclosure, wanting so badly to reverse what had happened. However, he heard something strange in the box, the sound vibrating slightly against his head.
It was weak, but…it almost sounded like…scratching.
Once it clicked in his mind what the scratching noise probably was, it threw Alfred into desperate motion. He opened the enclosure, and saw light reflecting off Arthur's eyes, and he smiled weakly, trying to remain optimistic for him.
"Hi, Arthur…Matthew's gone…you're in bad shape…oh god." He choked, before he gently put his hand in, letting Arthur smell him, and when there was no biting, he gently pulled in and wrapped his hand around Arthur's arm, pulling him out, before readjusting and pulling him out from under his arms.
Arthur was absolutely freezing, but Alfred ignored it, the snake man crying weakly as he saw it was Alfred, and gently curling into his heat, making Alfred want to cry for him. Arthur wasn't even moving his tail, it twitched pitifully, but he let it drag on the floor, dried blood in the bandage.
However, he simply dragged Arthur to the fireplace, and set him down, as he had to put the tinder in the fireplace, stroking his hair slowly as Arthur cried harder, his body hurting and lacking words at the moment.
Alfred lit the fire, running quickly to his room to grab his army things for dealing with gunshot wounds, before settling down next to Arthur and start looking over the injuries. He didn't know anything about heatstroke, but any army officer worth his salt knew about gunshot wounds.
Arthur was lucky. Matthew hadn't shot anything that was super important- painful, sure, but not important. He had gone for his right shoulder, and it had gone through his body- not hitting any bones, simply going straight through. This one had bled a fair amount, but not enough to kill him.
The other was where his pelvis would be. There wasn't an exit wound, meaning it was lodged inside of him- and probably lodged in his pelvic bone, making it a very, very painful injury.
No wonder Arthur was miserable- he was clearly in a lot of pain, and he had been in this much pain for 10 days. 10 days! That was horrifying to think about! But Alfred didn't think about it, since Arthur needed help, and even though Alfred gave him his best pain medication, and wrapped better bandages around the wounds than the shaky, bloodied things that looked as though Arthur had done them for himself, but…he probably had…and anger surged back through Alfred, hot and heavy.
Arthur had spent 10 days in excruciating pain over a misunderstanding; alone and suffering, and thinking he would die like that. It was simply barbaric, that Matthew would shoot him to begin with and then prevent Alfred from seeing him by keeping him there by force.
Arthur needed a doctor. Alfred could bandage his gunshot wounds nine ways to Sunday, but he wasn't fit to treat what was likely a broken pelvis and a bad infection. But who on Earth could he call about this? Who could he ask to help Arthur- since there was no way in hell that Alfred would be calling Matthew to give his tender affections to Arthur again. Oh no.
Alfred desperately looked through his contacts on his phone, and then remembered the one person in high school that he had trusted more than anyone else.
Ivan Braginsky.
He dialed, and waited.
XXXXX
a/n: If you didn't catch it in last chapter, Alfred does indeed have a brother, and it is indeed, Matthew, as said in this chapter.
Matthew doesn't know Arthur as well as Alfred, he only knew that when threatened, he was more than willing to attempt to kill Alfred. However, when he threatened him, Arthur also didn't know/trust Matthew as much, seeing him as an outsider who was threatening him and taking away his pack. tldr, neither of them trusted each other, and led to the bottom right corner of the prisoner's dilemma, essentially... and arthur got shot.
if u feel like aww, but i wanted to see Arthur help alfred- lemme say that he will. it'll be explained next chapter, but there is more to alfred than meets the eye, aka an explanation of why he's ignoring his ptsd and how that works and why it was barely touched on in the last version.
