My Firearm is My Friend
Arthur felt the room sway under his feet. He felt his head slightly spin and make the colors of the room blend together like paint on a pallet. "I-I'm sorry…" He stuttered as he shook his head to cease the spinning. "Did you say… m-mental ward?" The small dirty blonde nurse just looked up at him from behind the counter and slowly nodded her head in confirmation. Mental ward…. What on earth had Alfred done to himself that he had been sent to a mental ward? No, Alfred wasn't crazy. Well sure the boy was just constantly dancing on the border between normality and having ADD- but he was by no means out of his mind.
Arthur muttered a brief word of thanks to the little nurse who watched worriedly as the Briton semi stumbled off in the direction the hallway signs told him to. There was no way Alfred was there because he was actually off his rocker. With the torrents of patients that flooded in the day before they probably ran out of room to put everybody and they had to just stick Alfred in one of the available rooms. Yeah that was it…. Or at least that's what Arthur kept forcing himself to believe as he traveled into the bowels of the hospital in his dazed state.
Please… let this all be some kind of horrible dream. Someone tell me that I just got really hammered at the bar and this whole ordeal is just a result of inhumane amounts of alcohol consumption.
Unfortunately reality would hit the Briton hard within the matter of a short time. It would not be a pleasant experience, but then again reality was a cruel one indeed.
The floor that was called "Jefferson 5" was a floor dedicated to the mentally impaired, unstable, and other people of the sort. The eeriness of the floor itself was enough to send shivers up and down Arthur's spine and cause goose bumps to rise up from under his pale skin. It was silent, almost as if the entire floor had been completely deserted and abandoned. The only thing that gave Arthur the signal that people were even still wandering these corridors was the occasional moan or shout echoing from within the depths of the walls. It made Arthur uneasy and made the Briton want to turn tail and return back to the comfort of his own home back in jolly old England, but there was no way he could do that. Not when he had made it this far in the game.
There was single nurse sitting at the nurse's station. A relatively tall and strong looking girl with long brown hair tied back in a slick pony tail with steely gray blue eyes. Arthur swallowed hard and took in a deep calming breath before he approached the desk; the nurse staring up at him with that steely glare as he did so. "Oh um… h-hello there… I um… I looking for a patient who I was told was up here." Arthur was almost embarrassed when he asked the girl for assistance. Had Arthur been on any other floor it wouldn't have bothered him one bit, but being here….
"Name?" Her voice was a bit husky when she spoke, but her tone wasn't a mean or hostile one.
"Alfred Jones…" Arthur replied.
The large girl set her gray eyes on the computer screen as she scanned the system for the name Arthur had given her. Déjà vu settled over Arthur as the nurse's eyes lit like she had found the given name, but they instantly darkened again when she gazed over at the column that held the young American's diagnosis. She turned her gaze up towards Arthur again, "Are you family?"
Family? Well no… Alfred and Arthur with no longer brothers if that bloody revolution had proven anything. Still all nations were connected to each other by a sort of family like bond and Alfred and Arthur were both apart of the breed that was nation so Arthur could stretch the truth just a little bit. "Yes… we're cousins."
The expression on her face only grew worse from then on. "Um… well… uh…" Her hesitation was great as she tried to find the right words to explain what exactly the situation was with Alfred. By this point in time Arthur really couldn't stand her beating around the bush. The Briton just wanted the facts clear and true without any sugar coating.
"Look, just please… just please tell me what's wrong with him. You don't have to make it sound any less horrible than it might be I… I just want to know." Arthur really hoped what she said wasn't actually horrible considering he was asking her for the bare details of Alfred's condition.
"Um… well… it's not something I can really explain to you, but Mr. Jones… I think you should just see him for yourself." The girl explained as she rose from the swivel chairs she had been perched upon and motioned for Arthur to follow her down one of the desolate corridors. Arthur hesitated for a brief moment before he followed the large girl; the light click-ing of his shoes and the squeak-ing of the girl's sneakers mixing together and filling the uneasy silence.
She led him down to the end of one of the hallways to a door that had the big plastic numbers '517' nailed to its lacquered surface. The nurse pulled out a large ring of keys from her pocket- all the metal surfaces clanging and ringing together as she scans them over and selects the correct one. The brunette roughly shoved the key into the door; turning it until the knob let out a light click signifying that the lock has been released. "Try not to get to close to him…" She warned him quietly before she pressed her shoulder against the door and used the force of her weight and strength the push the heavy object open. Arthur swallowed thickly before he cautiously stepped forward into the room.
The room was nearly pitch black save for some sunlight that trickled through the cracks in the blinds and the light that flooded through the door from the hallway. Arthur's liquid emerald gaze slowly scanned the room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he search for signs of Alfred. The room was a mess as well. One of the lamps had been knocked over onto its side- its beige shade now bent and askew. The night side table had also been knocked onto its side with the drawer roughly pulled from its place and left over turned close by- a few papers and books laying crinkled underneath it. The generic white sheets were scattered around the room laying in wrinkled heaps of rising hills and dipping valleys. Trays of food were also tossed onto the floor; a carton of orange juice laid half spilled along with a plate of over turned pancakes that were covered in sticky maple syrup and a few hash browns.
But still through all the chaos of the room there was one thing that really caught Arthur's attention and made his heart beat thickly in his ever constricting throat. The small metal framed bed had been dragged over from its previous spot by the nightstand to the corner where it sat propped up onto its side. The way the thing was positioned it looked like it was meant to be a barricade of some sort. "He's messed up the room again…" The nursed sighed heavily. "This is the third time this has happened since yesterday…."
Third? So this catastrophe had happened already twice before. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and ventured into the room; maneuvering his way around the puddle of orange juice and the pool of maple syrup. "Alfred…" The Briton called into the darkness as he approached the bed barricade- it was the only place the American could be hiding in the small disheveled room. Arthur's call though, was only met by more eerie silence. Arthur swallowed again; forcing himself to breath deep and even as he came within only a few feet of the bed. "…Alfred…" The Briton hesitantly called again. This time Arthur wasn't meant by more silence, but by a small shuffling noise. Okay… so he was here at least. "Alfred." Arthur called once again; his voice much more even and confident this time around.
It was quiet again for a few moments before suddenly a shadowy figure shot up from behind the bed causing Arthur to gasp in shock and stumble backwards a bit. The Briton unluckily found himself colliding with the overturned nightstand drawer and he fell backwards flat down on his rump. He gave a low hiss as his tail bone throbbed for a few brief moments. "Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of here!" That voice… it was so familiar yet it was so different at the same time. The pitch of it was right, but the hostile tone that clung to the edges was so alien to Arthur's ears.
Arthur turned his gaze upwards and met the gaze of the person he had come such a long way to find. Alfred stood behind the bed barricade. The American's sky blue eyes were wild and blood shot behind cracked and broken glasses; deep dark circles standing stark underneath them. His dark blonde hair was disheveled- much more so than normal. The stuck together in random clumps with dried crusty blood as the glue. Soiled white bandages were wrapped around his head with the end loose and frayed hanging down against the side of the American's face. Alfred's face was pale and not the same sun kissed tone it used to be; even his cheeks were now hollow and sunken in.
Arthur couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Alfred's face. It was so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The last time the Briton had laid eyes on the American it had been only few days before the attack. Alfred's face had been beaming, bright, and vibrant. It had been the face of a young man who was just completely overjoyed with the simple fact that he was living; that he existed. Now… Arthur hardly knew who his broken person was. It was almost like Alfred had aged over four thousand years in the brief amount of time he and Arthur were apart.
The sight of Alfred like that… it made Arthur's heart squeeze and throb with sharp pangs
of pain deep within his chest.
Alfred stood towering above the fallen Arthur. He was dressed in nothing, but a pair of ripped washed out jeans, the dog tags he had been wearing since WWII, and a small silver cross on a thin chain. Arthur cowered back a few inches when he turned a cross eyes gaze to the end of a gun that was aimed directly in between his deep green eyes. "Whoa… A-Alfred… calm down… it's me… A-Arthur…" Arthur said quietly as he held his hands up in surrender to the American who was clearly in control. It wasn't like a bullet wound would kill Arthur, but that didn't make it hurt any less. The Briton was quite sure he didn't want to return home to his country with a bullet wound.
Alfred's stance slackened only a little bit before he instantly snapped back into position and held his aim straight. "You mean England…." England… dear lord how many years had it been since Alfred had addressed Arthur by his country name? The sound of Alfred's voice calling him by his country name… it only made Arthur's chest ache worse as memories of the revolution flooded back to his mind. "What the hell do you want? Did you come here to kill me?"
Arthur swallowed and drew in a shaky breath. "Kill you? No of course not Alfred-!" Arthur's explanation was cut off short by Alfred.
"It's America to you!" The young nation shouted fiercely.
Arthur resisted the urge to flinch at the younger man's sharp tone, but he took a deep calming breath and forced his voice to be smooth and even. "Okay… America…" It almost pained the older nation to say it. "Listen, I'm not here to hurt you… I saw what happened on the news and I came over to see if you were alright…."
"Alright? Alright?" His laugh was hysterical and sarcastic. "Do I look fucking alright to you? My fucking country was mercilessly attacked yesterday! It gave me a fucking heart attack AND a stroke not to mention these two absolutely lovely gashes on my forehead!" So Arthur's suspicions were confirmed. It was just as Arthur had thought back in the apartment.
"… I understand that you've suffered… believe me. When the Blitz happened during WWII I went through the same thing…"
"I don't give a damn about the fucking Blitz! What I do give a damn about is that thousands of my people- my CHILDREN- were killed; MURDERED! Then you just come waltzing in here like you know me, like you're my friend!"
"B-but Alfr- uh… America… we are f-friends… remember." Arthur could feel his cheeks dusting in a light coating of blush when he announced their relationship out loud. Sure the Briton knew that he and Alfred were close friends, but he had always been too stubborn to admit that to the American. "You're my… f-friend…"
"Yeah, and so was Iraq but look at where I am now because of him."
That statement was like a verbal slap to the face. Arthur could almost feel the force stinging fresh on his cheek.
"You're gonna leave… and you're gonna leave right now…" Alfred growled as he gnashed his teeth together and brought his lips down into a deep scowl; a sight the British nation had almost never seen on his usually happy and innocent face. "I don't trust anyone. Not France, not Canada, not Japan, and not YOU!" This time Arthur could definitely feel the sting of the slap on his face even though he knew that Alfred hadn't Arthur physically hurt him. Still the emotional blow the Briton was dealt was enough to make it feel like physical pain. "Now get out of here! I don't wanna ever see your godamn face in my country ever again!"
Arthur felt like he had sunken deep down in the very pits of hell itself as he slowly got up and slunk out of the room leaving Alfred to his own devices. The American nation sunk back down into his world of insanity clutching his gun close to his chest as if it was his life line and rocking and back and forth as he chanted and old military motto as if his very life depended on the action. "My firearm is my friend… it will not leave my side…. My firearm is my friend… it will not leave my side…"
The nurse watched helplessly as Arthur left the room in a complete daze. The brunette pulled the door shut behind the British nation and locked it again so the crazed American inside couldn't get out and harm anyone unnecessarily.
Arthur stumbled down the hallway a few feet where he was met by a dead end of bleak white walls. The Briton could feel himself losing it. That composure he had prided himself on was quickly vanishing into the stifling air around him. The British nation put himself into one of the corners where the drab walls met so he could hide his face from the brunette nurse who watched his actions with a worried gaze. Arthur balled his pale hands into tight fists before he pounded them against the surface of the wall with great force. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his stinging eyes shut as his legs went week and limp under him and causing the Brit to collapse onto his knees. The old nation double over himself; burying his face in trembling hands. His shoulders shook and quaked as silent sobs ripped from his chest and came out a strangled gasps of despair and agony.
His heart was being crushed to pieces; one tiny bit agonizing bit at a time.
*sob* Oh dear god what have I done….
In any case I did say it was going to be an angsty story.
Please review, it's greatly appreciated.
Thanks lovies.
