A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews, favorite, and follows! I've taken quite a long break from writing, so I do apologize for any rustiness on my part. Any comments and critiques are very appreciated. Anyways, please enjoy!

"Why would you give him this case, Ludwig? You know how dangerous this could be for Alfred. He doesn't have enough experience yet," Arthur exclaimed, bristling at the other man as he caught up to him just outside. The rain had subsided for the moment, but the clouds stayed, unmoving in their blanketed rule over the sky.

Ludwig glanced over at his arrival, lighting a cigarette as he spoke, "You want me to move him?"

"I do! He can't just be thrust into something like this without any warning."

"So you think easing him into this sort of thing is the right way to go about it?" the taller man asked, letting the tobacco stick dangling from between his lips. "There's nothing that will ease him into what we do. Everyone will be cruel, and everything will be unkind. But Alfred chose this path on his own. He's got a strong, believing spirit that hasn't been whittled away like the rest of ours. Even if you want to keep protecting him, you can't keep the world away from him any longer."

The man was unusually long winded in his conversation, a visible testament to how much faith he had placed in Alfred. A faith Arthur wasn't sure he could match. Not because he could not, but simply because he did not want to. He had known Alfred since he was a child, had watched over him after the death of his parents. And despite Alfred growing into the shallow end of adulthood and as a result, pushing the older man away, Arthur still cared about the boy. Even if he was annoying and sometimes all the Englishman wanted was to deny his existence. Or at least shove a sock in his mouth so that he would shut up.

"I know that, but—"

"Look, Arthur, I won't take Alfred off of this case just because you ask. I've already kept him on the smaller end of our workload as per your request, but we don't have the time or manpower right now to spare," the German laid out with a stern look, as though he had expected better from Arthur. "You're his partner so if you're that worried, you should watch over him closely to make sure that nothing happens, right?"

Arthur clicked his tongue in annoyance at the jab, thick brows knitted together. He crossed his arms, opening his mouth to retort when a loud slam of the door interrupted. The two men looked up, spying the very blond they were speaking about. He jogged over to them.

Ludwig gave Arthur one more stark look before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot as he walked by.

"Ah, hey Chief," greeted Alfred as he reached them, looking over his shoulder as Ludwig merely raised a hand in greeting and disappeared towards the door the other had come out of. "What's up with Ludwig?"

"He's just being his usual uptight self," Arthur muttered with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Oh, okay. More importantly, we've got work to do," chirped Alfred with far too much enthusiasm, hands curling into excited fists. "I figure we should head back over to Gilbert's before anything else and try to find out as much as possible about those people that came in. Then, we can find their families and question them about anything unusual. I mean, it just doesn't make sense that no one would notice someone being murdered. It's not exactly something you can overlook. Maybe they're hiding something. Do you think this could be a grand conspiracy?"

It was difficult to believe Ludwig regarded this clumsy, loudmouthed, and irritating man with so much potential. Perhaps though, it was Arthur who was being difficult and unreasonable all this time. As Alfred's former guardian, he knew that the young man would make a fine detective. He was strong and his love for justice and heroes was just as passionate as the first day he had met him. There was nothing about Alfred that would suggest otherwise. Except that ignorant innocence of his. That was something Arthur wanted to fiercely protect. It was what separated Alfred from everyone else, would separate him from everyone else even after years of doing what they did.

Stuffing down his own insecurities into the furthest crack of his mind, Arthur shook his head. Now wasn't the time. Half listening to Alfred's endless babble, the older man decided that all he could do at this point was keep his former charge safe.

"Let's just get to Gilbert's already."

The bell chimed as they pushed opened the door, the smell of formaldehyde wafting through. Alfred wrinkled his nose, eyes swishing from side to side as he examined the coffins littering the room. A shiver bolted down his spine as he thought of ghosts coming out from them and followed closely behind Arthur.

"Oh, back so soon?" Gilbert greeted them with a smirk and an arm. Alfred blanched at the sight of the appendage waving nonchalantly at their arrival.

"What the hell is that?" asked Arthur with distaste, leaning back and away when Gilbert thrust the severed arm towards them as though to shake hands. The morbid man laughed when he saw Alfred jump back, eyes wide.

"Just my latest project. She came in with her arms chopped off, the poor lass. I'm fixing her up so she'll be presentable. I can do anything, you know."

Alfred shuddered. Gilbert was a funny guy, but he seriously could not appreciate the man's profession. How someone could sit in a musty old shop that smelled like death with corpses just lying around, waiting to be beautified, was utterly beyond him. He didn't even like being in hospitals much less a mortuary. Still, he was here on a mission. Swallowing down his fearful discomfort, Alfred parted his lips to speak only to emit nothing more than a small squeak of his vocal chords. With a small shake of his head, he cleared his throat and tried again, "G-Gilbert, we need to see that body again. The boy and that girl that we brought in to you a few days ago."

"Oh, them again?" he uttered, bored by the repetitious request. With a loud, dramatically disappointed sigh, Gilbert turned on his heel, heading to the backroom. He waved the hand in a gesture to follow. With a glance at one another, both detectives followed after the man.

"Are they still here?"

"Right where I left them. They can't move, you see," was his snarky reply.

Placing the arm down on a passing table, the mortician pulled back the sheet to reveal the victim from three days ago. She laid there, quiet, and for a somber minute, Alfred could feel his heart clench within his chest as he stared at her. She was so young. Far too young for something like this to have happened to her. It was sickening, churning his stomach uncomfortably with each turn.

"Do you know her name?" asked Alfred suddenly, interrupting whatever conversation Arthur and Gilbert had been partaking of while he hadn't been paying attention.

Arthur regarded him with a quirked brow, opening his mouth. However, Gilbert silenced him with an outstretched hand cutting in front of him, seemingly studying the younger blond with silent eyes. He seemed to have found whatever he may have been searching for, the corners of his lips dragging upwards.

"Isn't that really something you guys were supposed to find out? It's your job to tell her family and whatnot, right? I just make her beautiful. Or did you forget that she had a name? Not that she'll be needing it anymore."

Alfred looked distressed for a long second, as though the thought had never occurred to him. And it honestly hadn't until he laid eyes upon her. All that repeated in his mind was that he didn't know. He hadn't asked about her name back when he had shown up that rainy day. He hadn't even bothered to find out when he had officially taken on the case, too caught up in his own excitement at being able to be the good guy. Be the hero that caught this villainous character. It pinned his heart with a dart of ugly shame.

"I-I just forgot," he lied, trying to cover it with words that brought no comfort.

A look of pure giddiness lighted Gilbert's face. He spoke with a spring in his words, enjoying the other's too naïve virtue, "Her name's Lili Zwingli. She's got a brother. He came in yesterday to identify her after one of your people told him about what happened."

"A brother? Do you know his name and where he lives?" Arthur asked, elbowing the man upon seeing the smug look on his face.

"Basch Zwingli. Don't know where he lives," the man answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not really my job, after all."

Readying himself, Alfred asked, voice stiff but words lax as though he wasn't certain about his request, "Can I see her eyes?"

Gilbert peeled back the eyelid of her left eye, informing them, "Glass eye. It's not too bad handiwork. Obviously, I could have done much better, but these aren't half bad. They're acceptable."

"I really don't think that's something you should be bragging about," commented Arthur with a brow quirked disapprovingly.

"Yeah, yeah. You're just jealous of my awesome skills. How about it, Arthur? I could make you a pair for when you die. I'll even change the color of your eyes if you want me to because I'm just feeling that generous and in awe over my awesomeness," cooed the mortician with a pompous grin.

"Stay away from my body when I die," Arthur quickly warned in response with a finger pointed at the other man.

"Don't be jealous. If you beg me, I might just consider making you about half as awesome as me. When you're dead, of course. I don't do living bodies."

Slinging an arm around both men's shoulders, Alfred exclaimed with a laugh, "Stop talking like such creeps, you two! Besides, neither of you can match my own sense of awesomeness, so there's nothing to fight about."

"I really hate you," Arthur muttered, shrugging off the arm. "Anyways, show us the other victim."

With a snort, Gilbert led them over to the same platform, pulling off the lid of the coffin once more as he spoke, "This one is Peter Kirkland. Sounds like he might be related to you, Arthur."

The man in question shook his head, saying with complete certainty, "No, I don't think so. I don't have any relatives."

"I thought as much. The shrimp's an orphan, after all."

Alfred sucked in a quiet breath. He knew what it was like to be a child left alone in the world. Shaking his head clear of the unpleasant memories, he asked, "Know anything else about him?"

"Why do I have to do your jobs for you lazy bastards? Go ask the local orphanage, if you're so interested. I don't know anything," the mortician remarked lazily, leaning against the coffin.

Leaving Alfred to inspect the body, Arthur asked, "Who were the other two?"

"You're really working me today, aren't you? Be grateful that I'm feeling so generous today," he grumbled, arms crossed. "Got a kid named Raivis Galante about a year ago, and the other one didn't have a name. Don't remember much about them."

"I suppose we should first go talk to Lili Zwingli's brother before we find out about the others," Arthur remarked with a sigh as he jotted the other names down. He would have to ask Kiku to check into them later when they got back. "Hey, Alfred! Hurry up, we're leaving."

"Pft, who made you the leader?" replied the blond, sticking his tongue out with all the maturity of a six year old. Ignoring the look of outrage on Arthur's face, he turned back to the young boy, Peter Kirkland. Fate was cruel, but he would do everything he could to give this boy even the smallest bit of assuagement so that he may rest peacefully in heaven. With a small smile, he stated, voice unusually soft, "I promise I'll find the person who did this to you and give you the justice that you deserve, Peter."

Knocking on the door with one hand, Alfred used the other to push the Brit away, rearranging the man's cheek as he continued to yell at him.

"I'm the lead detective in this pair! I should be taking charge," Arthur complained as he attempted to slip past and to the front. He had been expecting and hoping to be a mentor of sorts to Alfred, passing down his years of knowledge and seniority to the younger man like when they were younger. However, Alfred was taking into the role quite naturally, not even needing him. It was infuriating, to say in the least.

"Don't be so strict! We're partners, which means we're on equal standing." Alfred laughed good-naturedly, hardly fazed that Arthur was whirling his arms wildly in a vain effort to land a hit on him. Arthur was always fussing over little details like titles and other unimportant things, in Alfred's opinion.

Before any argument could be further thrown, the door clicked open, being drawn backwards. Immediately, Alfred turned back around with his full attention, saying, "Hello! We're with—"

The barrel of a shotgun was aimed fight for his head, the man holding the other end of it clicking the safety off. His finger, however, remained off of the trigger. For now, was all that the pair could assume as they both swallowed.

"Uh, hello," Alfred started once more, a nervous sweat hidden behind his smile. He grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled the man forward as a shield to which the man let out a noise of equally nervous protest. "We're the detectives trying to solve your sister's case. I'm Alfred Jones, and this is my partner, Arthur Kirkland. Would you mind putting down your gun?"

Dark green eyes narrowed, as though in thought to the words, before the gun was lowered begrudgingly. He spoke sharply, "What is this about?"

Easily shoving the still jumpy Arthur aside, the blond repeated, "Arthur and I are the detectives who were put on the case that involved your sister, Lili. We just came here to ask you a few questions that would help us. Can we come in, Mr. Zwingli?"

After a long moment of thought, Basch sidestepped to allow them entrance into his home despite still looking quite unconvinced. Alfred happily accepted the invitation, dragging Arthur inside with him as well as the other was still mildly in a daze. Basch led them to the living room, taking a seat as he motioned for the two detectives to do the same.

Glancing around, Alfred noticed a picture of the young girl sitting atop the mantle, her hair longer and twisted into two braids. He frowned marginally at the bright smile, realizing it had been stripped away from her now.

"So, Mr. Zwingli, do you know anything about the man who did this to your sister? Or why?" Alfred asked, point blank and with an entirely too serious face.

Arthur slapped a palm into the side of Alfred's face, thrusting him down into the arm of the couch with an irritated glare. With a whisper far too loud to be considered private chatting, he gritted out between his teeth, "Hey! You can't be that blunt, you prat! Haven't you heard of manners? This is a delicate situation; read the damn atmosphere!" He quickly turned his head back to Basch, saying apologetically with an awkward chuckle, "I'm terribly sorry for my partner's lack of manners. He's a rookie, you see, so he doesn't quite understand the procedures and such. What he meant to say was that we are deeply sorry for your loss."

Basch simply stared, deadpan. His shotgun sat in his lap, untouched but a stunning reminder of what could easily happen should they tread too far with dirty boots.

Arthur coughed and discreetly elbowed his partner in the ribs.

"Ah, I'm sorry about not taking your feelings into consideration earlier. I just thought that making small talk would be pointless since I'm sure that you're grieving over your loss. But really, we are very sorry for your loss," Alfred amended, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed hand. He was always jumping the gun, and judging from the murderous look on Arthur's face, he had messed up quite badly. A wave of guilt jumped through his body as he reminded himself to slow down.

"It's all right," Basch said tonelessly, looking over to the lone window in the room with heavy eyes.

Determined to make up for his careless and completely thoughtless blunder, Alfred asked, voice gentle, "If it's not too much trouble, could you tell me a little about her, please?"

"There isn't really too much to tell. She's been missing for a year now, so when I heard that they had finally found her, I was prepared for the worst," stated the man, solemn. "If only I had been more watchful over her, something this perverse might not have had to befall her."

"Hey now, don't say such careless things! It's not your fault!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed as he rose to his feet, surprising the other two occupants with his firm tone. "I may be overstepping my boundaries here, but it's not your fault that your sister died! It's mine!"

From beside him, Arthur's eyes widened at the statement. He grabbed a hold of the younger man's elbow and whispered angrily, "What do you think you're doing? Just let it go, you imbecile!"

But Alfred paid him no attention, not even attempting to get out of his grasp. It was wrong for him to sit back and let Basch blame himself for his shortcomings. He had become a detective in order to bring peace to the city. He had wanted to keep everyone safe so that no one would have to lose a loved one to senseless violence. Standing firmly, he said, "As someone who swore to protect the people of this city, I failed her. It's because of my carelessness that you have to suffer, not yours, Mr. Zwingli. So if you want to blame someone, please, blame me."

"Alfred…"

There was a blanket of silence thrown over the men, Alfred staring at Basch with genuine and unwavering blue eyes. He had meant what he said. Basch had no blame upon him. To Alfred, Lili's death was something he should have been able to prevent. He should have been able to save her.

"I don't blame," Basch spoke finally with a stuffed throat as he looked away, "you for my sister's death. I gave up on the police months ago, after all. When I came to ask for help, they told me to fill out a report and said that they would get on it as soon as possible. But we aren't important nobles, so naturally, nothing was done. Since the police wouldn't help me, I spent all of my time searching for Lili, but I could never find anything. She just seemed to vanish."

"The police did nothing?!" Alfred repeated, eyes impossibly wide with shock and a minuscule of outrage beginning to dot his pupils. He turned to Arthur who seemed less surprised by the statement, a look of discomforted understanding simply settling upon his face. It baffled Alfred as to how the other man could be so calm when such a disgrace was happening within their own ranks!

"It's quite common," Basch informed, flat.

"Common? That can't be! How could they do nothing? Who are they? Do you remember? I'll get Ludwig to fire them right on the spot!" yelled Alfred indignantly. He couldn't believe that even the police would be so petty as to not help someone in need. It was utterly despicable for someone who was supposed to be dedicated to serving and protecting the city! Even if Basch couldn't remember them, he was going to make sure that each and every last one of them would be fired.

Pulling Alfred back down onto the couch, Arthur attempted to cool the other's incensed temper, saying with a weary hand patting his shoulder, "Calm down, Alfred. We're not here to talk about any of that, remember?"

"Oh, right! Sorry. But I will find them and make sure that they receive the proper punishment!" insisted the hot blooded man, blowing out a puff of incensed air from his lungs.

"Anyways," Arthur interjected, continuing down their previous line of conversation, "You mentioned that she had gone missing over a year ago?"

"Yeah, almost a year ago. She went out grocery shopping by herself. Normally, I would accompany her, but that day, I had to work late and couldn't be there. By the time I had come back, she wasn't anywhere to be found. I asked the store's owner but he said that she hadn't stopped by." Basch stopped to gather his thoughts, eyes pointed towards the hardy but worn out coffee table.

Neither men spoke, just waited for the other to continue.

"I went out looking for her, but she wasn't anywhere near our neighborhood and none of our neighbors had seen her. That was when I went to the police, but they just gave me some forms and told me that she probably just ran away."

"Did you notice anything strange about your sister before her disappearance? Did she act differently? Or maybe meet someone?" asked Arthur with a creased brow.

Basch shook his head in the negative. "There was nothing different about her, and I taught Lili to never talk to strangers. If she had been approached by someone, she would have told me."

"Is there anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"We didn't have enemies, if that's what you're trying to get at," Basch stated easily with a hard glare pinned upon the empty space right next to Arthur's ear, fingers gripping the cold metal of his shotgun. "Lili was always very kind to everyone, and she was very sociable. If there was anyone who bore a grudge towards me or Lili, I would have known and tracked them down personally to question them."

The Englishman nodded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. We just have to consider all the possibilities. Well, we don't mean to take up any more of your time, Mr. Zwingli."

Alfred jumped to his feet upon seeing Arthur rise up from the sofa, blue eyes thrown over his shoulder at the lonely man still seated in his faded green colored sofa. He could see the weight of sorrow held upon the other's thin shoulders, crushing him. It was an image of the human that he hadn't encountered since he was just a child, that encompassing loneliness threatening to swallow everything in its wake. It lit a small pang of familiarity in his chest as his eyes drifted back over to the lonely picture on the mantle.

They narrowed as Basch stood, moved his weary limbs to show them to the front door as the image rippled.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Zwingli. We will be in touch should anything new arise," Arthur said with a terse nod, crossing the threshold of the front door and descending down upon the meager two stairs that connected the house to the road.

Alfred stepped out as well, hesitant with his own movements. He wanted to say something. He wanted to be able to offer some sort of comfort to Basch. To himself.

Whirling around just as he crossed down the last step, Alfred said, "I couldn't protect her, but I swear that I'll find whoever did this to her. I promise."

Basch didn't speak a word, simply finished closing the door with a tired sort of nod that Alfred couldn't see.

Letting out a puff of breath, Alfred turned back around to Arthur, lips missing the usual smile and instead pulled into a thin, taut line.

"Hey, Arthur."

"Yeah?"

"Lili Zwingli's eyes were the wrong color."

A thick brow sloped downwards at the sudden statement, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw a picture of her on the mantle. In it, her eyes are clearly green, but when we saw her at Gil's place, she had blue eyes," explained Alfred, a hand holding his chin in thought. "Gil said that the glass eyes matched the original eyes perfectly, so why would he mess up on Lili's?"

"It could just be a mistake," reasoned Arthur, glancing up at the sky. It looked like rain was looming upon them once more.

"I don't think it is…" The American let out a small hum. It didn't make sense for Lili's eye color to be changed on a whim. For someone who was as meticulous as this person was making himself out to be, a simple mistake of eye color wouldn't be so easily made. There had to be some sort of meaning to changing them when making her glass eyes.

"You want to go for some coffee or tea?"

The sound of the other's voice pulled Alfred out of his thoughts, blinking at the proposed outing. He was on the cusp of a potentially figuring out a key factor in their case and Arthur wanted to go out for tea?

"It's been awhile since the last time we went, and I know you like sweets so much, so I thought we might go get some. Plus, it'd be good to take a break," Arthur clarified, a hint of red filling his cheeks as lime green eyes settled away from Alfred's face. "Not that I thought of you specifically or anything! I just want some tea right now, and since you're with me, you might as well come along. That's all!"

Alfred let out the breath that had been holding his spine up straight, familiar smile upturning his lips. When he had been younger, Arthur had taken him out for sweets and tea whenever he could. It was a treat that came mostly on special occasions, and it had been the young American's favorite. But as he grew, the trips became less frequent with Arthur's growing schedule until one day, they just stopped altogether. While he would make good on his promise to Basch—after all, a hero never broke his promise!—he supposed a small break couldn't hurt.

"Only if you're buying!"

"Like hell I am!"