Yay for dialog! Not until near the end, but still! We made it, people! The plot train has left the station, FINALLY. Let's see where it takes us…Hopefully somewhere with milkshakes…

DONOTOWNPERIOD

Chapter 4

Eventually Matthew's shaking slowed, his breath returning back to normal. Alfred glanced up at the clock: 5:17 PM. It was getting dark again. He needed to get things ready.

Sliding away from Matt, Alfred stood on wobbly feet. His leg throbbed as he put weight on it, and instinctually he pressed over the brittle, blood-soaked patch in his jeans. Seeing his brother begin to shake more violently in response to his absence, Alfred was quick to reassure him.

"Don'tcha worry, Mattie, I'm just gonna clean up. Want something to eat? I know all the food 's out in the car, but I think there's some granola bars in one of the cupboards? You want one?" Matthew said nothing, just tightened his ball and let out a shuddered breath. "I'll get'cha one, just in case, alrightly?"

He patted Matthew on the top of his head lightly, and stumbled towards the chair in the center of the room. Alfred would need to find his glasses before he did anything else.

After a short time he finally dug them out from under a shelving unit and plopped them on. Alfred frowned at the large black area to the right of him he could no longer see, and at the large crack that of course would be over the portion he still needed, but shuffled towards the hall nonetheless. As he passed the clear window, he wrenched the dark curtains shut with a jerk of his arm.

Entering the bathroom, Alfred focused on finding the medical kit first, pulling out a roll of gauze and some medical tape from the small cabinet that hung above the sink. He avoided the mirror's gaze for as long as he could, and made sure to take off his glasses before looking up. Snagging the Peroxide as a last minute measure, he soaked a small square of cloth in the bitter liquid and slowly cleaned the outside edges of the wound.

As he went through the motions, he tried to imagine he was helping another.

As he finished, Alfred slipped his glasses on and slid from the bathroom without a second glance at the mirror. He stopped by his bedroom to grab a new set of clothing, cleaning and wrapping his leg, and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen.

Ruffling through the cabinets, he finally found two Oats and Honey granolas and shuffled towards the phone, munching hungrily on one. Alfred grabbed the heavy key to the door, the one which was both his savior and the source of his problems, from the bottom of the knife draw where he'd left it the previous night.

Wandering towards the older phone resting on the counter, he took another bite from his granola. Alfred pounded the numbers he'd memorized long ago into the keypad and listened to the dial tone as it transformed into a methodic ring. When a confused British tenor broke through, his heart nearly pounded straight from his chest.

"Ello? Matt? Why are you calling using this line? You never phone me with-"

"Arthur, it's me."

"Oh. Alfred, what do you want? I'm a bit busy at the moment and don't have time for-"

"It's important. Do you know where Mattie's cabin is? The one I'm calling from?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't see why that's any consequence to yo-"

"It is. I need you to come as soon as you can. I need you to trust me. It's an emergency." A pause.

"An emergency? What happened? Are you all alright? What's wrong?"

Alfred hesitated. The reason he hadn't called England in the first place was because he wouldn't believe the truth. He might believe half truths, though.

"There's…this guy…He did some things to me and Mattie and we're kinda stuck here. I can't get us out in my current condition, so that's why I'm begrudgingly involving you. You have to do exactly as I say, though, or something could happen to you too, and I don't think I can help you out if it does…"

Alfred heard the breath hitch on the other line before beginning. "It's…It's really all that bad, then? Should I…Should I involve Francis?" Though Alfred heard the sour note at the end of his sentiment, he could tell Arthur was genuinely concerned. Good. He would come.

"Do what you think is necessary. Just…" He paused, sucking in a sharp breath. He hated the desperate tone leaking through his voice. "Please hurry."

"I will. Expect me within the day." The tone on the other end was blunt, to the point, and without exceptions. Just as it sounded as if Arthur might turn the phone off, Alfred remembered his warning.

"Wait! When you approach, call me here. I will give you further instructions when you arrive." His voice hardened, "If you don't get a response, it's too late, so DON'T come any closer. Do you understand?" There was a sputter on the other side of the phone, and he felt an argument start to brew.

"Alfred, are you out of your mind! I'm coming, despite whateve-"

"Do you understand?" The tone was nonnegotiable, and this stopped whatever argument Arthur had planned on hollering out. After a silent moment, a begrudged response leaked through the line.

"I…I understand…"

"Good. Now, please, your entire trip, make sure you lock your doors. Don't open them unless I tell you. It's important."

"I will. Restrain from doing anything foolish before I arrive, please."

"Yeah, sure thing. See ya then." There was a soft rustle and a long silence. Then the dial tone went dead. Alfred hung the phone back up on the hook and stared at it for a moment.

He hoped Arthur got there soon.

Back in England, Arthur Kirkland frantically raced to his terminal where fortunately, a private jet was waiting for him. The perks of being a country. Not that it stopped any of his worries.

Alfred never said a situation was too much for him. Never, not for however long it was he'd know him (and he'd know him for a very, VERY long while) had he ever asked for help. He was the hero, and he always felt the need to prove himself a fool over it every chance he had.

This was serious. Arthur couldn't place it, but he knew something had shaken the boy beyond his boundaries. Something he honestly thought couldn't be done…

As he rushed down the hall, he reluctantly typed in Francis' phone number. If Matthew was indeed hurt, the last thing he needed was to be the one who knew but didn't tell the man. The Frenchman could be so protective of that boy…

"'Ello, this is Francis speaking, 'ow man I 'elp you?" Arthur groaned, not in the mood to deal with the man this early in the morning. Or any time, for that matter. But he had to, for the boys' sake. Fear clutched at his stomach again, and he was interrupted before he even began.

"Angleterre, I see you 'ave finally come around, non? 'Ow may I be of serves?" Arthur growled.

"There's no coming around with you! Now listen. I only called because there's something going on over across the pond. The boys are in some kind of trouble, and I'm headed that way to check into it. I thought…Well, I thought you might be interested in Matthew's wellbeing."

The previously pompous air he had held disappeared in an instant at the mention of Matthew. "What is the matter? Is something wrong with Mattieu? Where is 'e?"

"All I know is he's up at the cabin, both of them are, and there's some kind of ruckus going on with another person. I'm going to check it out. I…" he couldn't help the annoyed air slip into his tone as he continued, "…I can stop and pick you up, if you are willing to be corrigible…" Loud, shuffling noises began on the other side of the phone, followed by a response much quicker than expected.

"Oui, where will we be meeting, Angleterre? I am packing as we speak." England grimaced. Well, at least he had some backup…that was kind of relieving…

Even if it was that toad.

Alright, maybe not as exciting as I made it out to be…Still, things are happening! That's something, at least. ^^''

Sorry if the few French words I did use suck; I'm a German speaker myself, so I don't know much of any of that. If there are any errors, and any French peoples care to correct me on them, I'll make sure to change it asap.