Chapter Two

Antonio couldn't stop pacing—he was completely restless as he waited for the doctor to emerge from Lovino's room. The guilt wouldn't allow him to sit still. It ate away at him, taking the smallest and most painful of bites at his heart, slowly eating it.

How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to protect Lovino! Hadn't he promised himself that when they moved to America? To keep Lovino out of harm's way? Isn't that why they moved to America in the first place? He had yet again failed to do what he intended. He never should've left the house on this night. Maybe, if he had stayed, then this wouldn't have happened.

But he knew better. It was fate. She had her puppet strings bound to them and she controlled them as she pleased. Antonio's mind raced to another thought: where were Ludwig and Feliciano? They said they'd be here in—

"Antonio!" a voice could be heard and the Spaniard barely had time to turn and see who it was before he was almost knocked to the ground.

The Italian hugging him trembled in his arms and held onto him tightly. Feliciano tried to stifle his sobs but failed. At this, Antonio placed his hand atop Feliciano's head of auburn hair, "Don't worry, Feliciano. I'm sure everything will be all right."

Who was he fooling? Himself? Antonio knew it wasn't going to be all right. There was too much blood lost, too many wounds, Lovino's skin was too pale, his breathing too shallow and his heart beat too slow… hearing his own thoughts echo in his head, Antonio shooed them away. He had to remain optimistic for Lovino's sake and his very own.

Ludwig was trailing behind Feliciano at a more normal pace, attempting to appear as calm as ever. The Spaniard knew this was not the case, however. Ludwig was just as worried as the rest of them if not more. Feliciano had already unlatched himself from Antonio and moved back to Ludwig who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Antonio," Ludwig greeted and the Spaniard nodded in acknowledgement. "I assume they haven't said anything about Lovino's condition?"

"No," Antonio shook his head. "They had to perform surgery immediately. He's still in there. It's only been two hours though. I didn't call you until recently because I wanted things to calm down. There have been investigators in and out of here."

Ludwig nodded in understanding and for the longest time, the only sounds were from Feliciano's constant sobbing and tears crashing to the floor. They sat in silence for the next hour, the quiet acting like anvils on their hearts and minds.

The door opening and closing drew the trio's attention instantaneously and the young doctor readjusted the glasses on her face with a sigh before sitting before the concerned group.

"Mr. Vargas has made it through the surgery successfully. He is no longer in danger. With blood transfusions, he'll heal just fine," a smile did not appear on her face to assuage the situation and she continued. "However, he is in a coma. The blow—or should I say blows—to his head caused a great ordeal of damage. I have no way of predicting when he'll wake up. I'm very sorry everyone. I wish I could do more."

"It's all right, Elizabeta," Antonio was struggling to keep himself in check although he was failing miserably. "I understand."

The Hungarian doctor placed her hand on Antonio's and offered what she assumed was a comforting smile, "I'm sure everything will be just fine. We'll have around the clock care for him in case there are any changes. And if there are, we'll let you know immediately. You may go see him if you wish."

"Gracias," was Antonio's strangled reply.

Elizabeta stood then and bid farewell to Ludwig and Feliciano before taking her leave and the three others didn't hesitate in making their way to Lovino's room. All, however, froze in the doorway when they saw the condition of the Italian. Antonio was the first to move, though, and sat in the chair closest to his lover.

Some color had returned to Lovino's complexion but that didn't soothe the face that underneath the bandages were bruises, broken bones, and stab wounds. The Spaniard held Lovino's hand in his, noticing at how much warmer it was compared to before. Antonio, now falling apart at the seams, hid his face in his hands and broke down quietly.

Feliciano could no longer bear to look at his brother. It was too much. Hiding his face in Ludwig's chest, Feliciano gripped the latter's clothing tightly. It was so hard to believe that Lovino had just been at the bar joining him for a few drinks and chatting only hours ago. How quickly things can change; how quickly fate decides to have a hand in people's lives and change the cards they are dealt. It made him sick to his stomach.

Ludwig just held Feliciano close, trying to do as much as he could without having to say anything. What could he say? Don't worry and everything will be all right? No. What good would that have done? Absolutely none. And so, while Antonio and Feliciano wept, Ludwig was the one who was going to keep his act together—for the sake of his friends.

Floating.

Alone.

Darkness.

Anguish.

Fear.

Floating alone in the darkness with an excruciation pain exploding throughout his body… where was he? Why was he alone? Why was he alone in this vast abyss? It was cold, so very cold. But also very warm. He tried to reach out but his hands were pinned to his sides and felt like cement blocks. He tried to scream but no sound came. Where was Antonio? Why wasn't he here with him?

He wanted the man to hold him close, to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, to run his lithe fingers through his hair and to kiss him tenderly. Without Antonio, he might as well be experiencing death. He would rather die than the man to disappear from his life forever—he could actually very well be dead.

His unspoken desires drifted away from him in the darkness as it consumed him further, pulling him and holding him like a mother would hold their child. It made him feel safe. Safer than he could ever hope to be in this never-ending place.

"Antonio," a voice said. "Wake up."

A hand shook his shoulder and the Spaniard stirred. Antonio lifted his head and saw Lovino standing next to him, making his heart leap with joy.

"Lovi?"

"No," Lovino shook his head and the Italian's face transformed to a lighter complexion, a less than feminine jawline, bright amber eyes and auburn hair. "It's Feliciano."

"Oh. Feli. Lo siento. I didn't mean to mistake you for him," Antonio rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"It's all right. Ludwig and I were going to head home. You should get going, too, so you can get some rest. Elizabeta says we can't stay any longer," Feliciano said.

"What time is it?" Antonio yawned.

"Nearly four in the morning. You can stay with us for the night."

"I see. Gracias, Feli," Antonio slowly stood and gave a tired smile. He half expected for the duo to go ahead and leave.

"We'll walk out with you," Feliciano read the look in Antonio's eyes.

Antonio nodded and rested his lips on Lovino's forehead, leaving behind a feathery kiss. "Te amo, mi amor. Despertemos pronto."

The Spaniard followed his two friends out and regrettably shut the door behind him.

"Antonio?"

Said man looked up from his plate of food and was met with the sight of Elizabeta and a blonde man stood next to her. His jade eyes were as cold as green ice and his expression was set in stone. But Antonio couldn't pay much attention to that—this man's eyebrows were huge!

"Toni, this is Arthur Kirkland. He's an investigator who's just going to ask you a few questions about what happened last week."

"Of course he is," Antonio's tone was bitter. The Spaniard had had it up to his ears with police officers popping in and out whenever they pleased.

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Kirkland. What do you need to ask me?" Antonio decided to change his attitude for the better.

"Likewise," Arthur nodded then he turned to Elizabeta and smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Edelstein. Tell Roderich I said hello."

Antonio was surprised at the man's English accent.

"Will do. See you around, Arthur," Elizabeta waved and went towards the elevators.

Arthur took the empty seat across from Antonio and pulled out a pad and pen, "Well, Mr. Carriedo, let's get started, shall we?"

Antonio remained quiet and pushed his (rather unpleasant tasting) cafeteria food away from him.

"Where were you the night Mr. Vargas was attacked?"

He got to the point rather quick. All the other ones that strolled in here wasted time with pointless questions that had hardly any relevance to the case at all.

"I was out driving around," Antonio replied.

"And where were you going?"

"Nowhere; I just needed to clear my head. Lovino and I had an argument before I left and driving around town helps me cool off."

"Ah, I understand that far too well," Arthur was scribbling something down on the paper.

"You argue with your girlfriend all the time?" Antonio knew it was a personal question but he was never really one to worry too much about that.

"Boyfriend," if Arthur was offended then he didn't show it and relaxed against the chair. "And yes, we argue quite a lot. He's a complete idiot but he has a good heart and means well."

Antonio felt relieved. There was someone who understood him. When Antonio had revealed to the other detectives that he and Lovino were more than just friends, their expressions didn't change—their eyes did, however. He saw the disgust and condescension just scream at him. But this man didn't even bat an eye. He accepted him.

There was a comforting silence and Arthur straightened himself. He had gotten distracted.

"Sorry, I got sidetracked. Let's continue," Arthur cleared his throat and was prepared to write Antonio's responses. "So you had no particular place in mind. What time did you leave?"

"About 10:25."

Arthur wrote this down while asking the next question, "And what time did you arrive home?"

"11:00."

"So you were gone roughly thirty-five to forty minutes."

"Yes; that's how long I'm usually gone. I might visit a friend's house or something. It depends on my mood and how long Lovino needs time to cool down," Antonio watched the man write.

"What did you do when you left the house?"

It was Antonio's turn to raise an eyebrow. That was an odd question…

"Um, I locked the door and went to my car. I always have to lock the door because that's one of Lovino's pet peeves. He's adamant about keeping it locked. I don't blame him though."

Arthur penned that as well, "How severe are your arguments with Mr. Vargas?"

"Eh, that depends on his mood. He has a short temper and I can usually tell when something is bothering him—usually. He's pretty good at hiding when he's upset about something though."

"What would you say is the worst argument you've had?"

Antonio felt like he was in a therapy session. But, it helped with the guilt weighing down his heart somehow. He sighed, "Last week was the worst."

"Do your arguments ever escalate to physical violence?" Arthur set his gaze on Antonio's face to watch out for even the slightest change in his expression. A twitch, a simple blink that would give away everything.

"No," Antonio's answer was short and curt. "I would never lay a hand on him. Ever."

"Did he ever hit you?" Arthur's stare wasn't so vigilant.

"No."

"Good," Arthur said. "Well Antonio, it seems you have a solid alibi here. But as you know, so much can go wrong in such a short amount of time. I'm going to be honest: you're the prime suspect."

"How?" Antonio's reaction was near explosive and drew the attention of others around them. "What part of 'I would never lay a hand on him' do you not seem to understand?"

"Sit down; you're making a scene," Arthur growled. "I'm just telling you the truth. Look, no one else had access to your home besides yourself and Lovino right? You lock the door every time one of you leaves the house so that automatically rules out someone just walking in unless they picked the lock. And there were no signs of forced entry as far as I know—no broken windows, no picked locks."

Antonio stopped. This man was intelligent. Too intelligent.

Arthur smirked to himself. Got him.

"Feliciano? Did you want to visit Lovino today?" Ludwig walked into the room.

"No," Feliciano shook his head and rolled over in the bed. "I don't feel well."

"All right. I'm going to go to the store. Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you," Feliciano didn't lift his head from the pillow.

Ludwig nodded, "I'll be back." And left.

Feliciano sat up, trying to overcome his intolerable headache. Why did his head hurt so bad? Why did his stomach clench every time his brother was mentioned?

He knew he should've gone to see his brother but something was telling him to stay right where he was—Antonio was there. It would be all right.

Whispering that… Lovino wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

So, with that, Feliciano continued to lay in bed and sleep the day away, comforted by the voice in his head

Arthur's bright eyes waited for Antonio to retort but none came, "So, Mr. Carriedo, did you attack Mr. Vargas last week?"

"No," Antonio put extra stress on the word. "Why are you so hell-bent on me confessing what I didn't do? I would never hurt Lovino. Never. I love him."

"Well, here's where I would say that what's love got to do with it?" Arthur leaned back in the chair. "Surely you've seen those TV shows where someone snaps and ends up killing the one they love because of insurance money or an affair? This is a little like that. From what I've heard, you moved to this country because those who knew about Lovino's grandfather's inheritance were trying to kill him. It's the same with Feliciano."

"What makes you so certain that I did it? You've got any proof?"

"I could actually arrest you right now. All the evidence at the crime scene points to you."

Antonio's heart stopped, "What?"

Arthur nodded, "The muddy shoe prints we found around the house fit the size and sole of a pair of shoes in your closet. Those shoes were caked in mud. And we managed to find strands of your hair scattered about as well. All we need is your fingerprints and we'll be through."

"I'm not the only one with a key to my house."

"I'm sorry?"

"Feliciano has a key to my house. Did you interrogate him? Or am I just the deranged lover that was after my boyfriend's inheritance?"

Arthur now had some food for thought.