Yay, an early update! I suppose it's the least I can do, since you waited so long for chapter 3. (yeah…sorry again.) So, I decided, since I'm impatient, and since I know you probably would like one, to update now! Also, I'm totally suffering from Insomnia, so I figure I should be productive. Now, let's get on to your love! BrokenHeartedWarrior, thank you! ncalkins, I'm one of those weird people who think serial killers are fascinating. I know a lot about a lot of them, and trust me, learning how the mind works is the best tool against them. I agree about dark fics! They are fun to read, but even more fun to write! :D Rebel Lenses, awww, thanks for liking my postscripts! They're fun to write. luckycat222, you like my postscripts too? YES! I think England is uptight, but could probably party…when drunk. Hehehe. Quiet. Crash, America will be here sooooon! You were too prepared! *pets* Just accept it… Hehe. darkestlight96, ooooh, England won't be happy you agree with America and me… Oh well. He'll be strong. Fynniona, don't die! You need to stay alive to read more! And uh…maybe some fanart… *cough, cough* Now, I love you all! Thanks for the support! On with the creepy England madhouse of a story!
We're From America
(Marilyn Manson)
[We're from America, we're from America, where we eat our young. We're from America, we're from America, it's where Jesus was born. We're from America, we're from America, where they let you cum on their faces. We're from America, we're from America, we speak American.]
"Doctor Kirkland, you look awful," Nurse Michelle remarked the next day. It was early outside, as it always was when they arrived for work. Arthur had paperwork to finish before he could see patients.
"Thank you, Chelles. It's good to know that," he said dryly. What else could he have said? He only got about two hours of sleep, because the rest of the night was spent reliving his newest murder.
"You should get more sleep. It's unhealthy to stay up so late."
"No, really? Because I thought I was a doctor, and you weren't. So maybe you should just file things and be quiet."
She glared at him, but chose not to comment. Arthur was known for being cranky in the morning, and she normally didn't even try to talk to him until after noon.
"Edgar Boone is coming to see you today. He says he has chest pain," Michelle said after a few moments.
"When is he not here?"
Boone was known for always wanting something to be wrong with him. Arthur diagnosed him once with "Acute Hypochondria", but Boone had thought it was a literal disease for about a week.
"He'll be your first patient today. You don't have many… I think you'll find the last one interesting," she informed him.
"Oh? Who is it?"
"You'll see."
The morning went by rather slowly, as it always did. Arthur humored Boone, who thought he was having a heart attack.
"Does your left arm hurt?" he had asked him.
"No, but my chest hurts every now and then."
"Do you get dizzy at all? Shortness of breath?"
"No, just pain."
"…If you were having a heart attack, you'd already be dead by now. I'll see you next week, I suppose," Arthur sighed, cuing Michelle to help Boone out of their office.
By the afternoon, Arthur had his head in his hands, and was ready to go. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Maybe…fantasize about the latest slaying…maybe…relive it again…and again.
"Hello!" A happy voice called. Arthur glared at the source, not liking the interruption.
He was met with a pair of startling blue eyes, covered by glasses. The face was adorably round, and framed by sandy blond hair. On the top of the blond mop was a cowlick, which swayed with every move the man made.
"Ah, Alfred Jones! You're right on time!" Michelle said, rising to greet him. Arthur could see why she was excited by the man's presence. He was…cute.
"Where's the doc?" Alfred asked.
"Right here," Arthur said stiffly, not liking the fact that he had just thought of another man as "cute".
Alfred flashed him a bright smile, almost making the doctor squint. He walked over briskly, and shook Arthur's hand eagerly.
"Nice to meet you! You're the first physician I've seen since I came here! Just need to make sure I don't have a cold, you know. I've had a fever these past few days, and my mother wasn't happy when I said so in my letter. She threatened to come here and beat me up if I didn't go!"
"Came here?" Arthur asked. Of course, he could hear from Alfred's accent that he was a foreigner, but he'd never heard the affliction before. "Where are you from?"
"America!"
Arthur had never met an American, since travel was such a hassle. He knew the man would have had to take a rather lengthy boat ride to make it to England.
"All the way overseas? Why are you here, then?"
"I'm a student studying other cultures and art styles on the side," Alfred said. "I'm here for about two months, and then I'm off to France."
"France?"
"…Yes? They're very well known for their art."
Rolling his eyes, Arthur motioned for the sandy blond to sit on the edge of the table so he could check his vitals. Michelle was in the corner, eyeing Alfred like a piece of meat.
"Chelles, why don't you go finish my last bit of paperwork?" Arthur called over to her. She went slowly, still trying to crane her neck to look at the blond, who was swinging his feet off the table happily.
"So, I noticed you said art was 'on the side'. Is there a reason for that?" The doctor asked, placing his stethoscope on Alfred's chest under his shirt.
"Oh, um… My dad isn't really into art. I like it a lot, but he wasn't willing to have me travel so far…just for art…"
Arthur listened to the strong heartbeat in his ears, and stiffened when his fingertips brushed the smooth skin on Alfred's chest. He jerked his hand away, and moved to place the stethoscope on Alfred's back instead.
"Cough for me, please," he instructed.
Alfred did so, and the doctor could find no traces of liquid.
"You sound healthy to me. It's most likely just a cold, like you said. Is your fever very bad?"
"You're the doctor, you tell me," Alfred grinned, grabbing Arthur's hand and placing it on his forehead. Arthur's eyes went wide, and he couldn't help but feel a flash of heat not at all related to a fever.
"You…do feel rather…warm…"
"Bad warm?" Alfred asked fearfully, not liking the grim look on the doctor's face.
"No, no, not bad. It's okay, just try to drink plenty of fluids and dress warmly at night."
Alfred grinned at him and hopped off the table.
"Thanks, doc!"
Without another word, the man left the office, waving goodbye over his shoulder. Arthur watched him leave, an odd sort of interest in his thoughts.
Then, it struck him. The entire time Alfred was in the room, Arthur had not once thought of the woman he killed the night before. Not once. As to what that meant, he wasn't sure.
From the back room, Michelle's indignant voice was heard.
"You let my future husband leave! I hate you!"
Oh, how he should have just killed her ages ago.
[We're from America, we're from America, we're from America! Can you sing it with me?! We're from America, we're from America, we're from America, can you sing it with me?!]
Sachi: Yayyyy, America! Review for love! he next update should be soon, but we'll seeeeee. Your author likes to be lazy sometimes. :D
