A/N: So here I am, uploading the new chapter at an ungodly hour yet again... ugh, bad me... the truth is, I ran out of buffer chapters and had to finish this one up as quickly as I could. As a result it might be a bit messier than the others, but I did my best. =3=7
Hopefully I'll have chapter 5 finished on time to stick to my 'Once a week' schedule, but I'm terribly lazy so... here's hoping!
Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia.
Chapter 4: In Which a Search Party Becomes Unnecessary
It was enough to make Arthur's stomach turn, but the more he considered it, the more likely it seemed. Gilbert being the killer made sense, in a way, and if Arthur was going to be completely honest, well... the Prussian was his friend, and Gilbert had proved himself a loyal, if obnoxious, comrade many a time. However, Arthur couldn't help but think that if Gilbert was the murderer, it would mean that Alfred wasn't, and that was a monumental relief. One that eased a tightness in Arthur's chest that he really didn't want to examine too closely. Gilbert was, for his part, looking positively livid, and Ludwig had a stony set to his jaw that indicated he was prepared to defend his brother, innocent or not, against any attack. Which was definitely an abysmal turn of events, since Arthur would really rather have had the German on their side.
"...Gilbert, I'm sorry but I think maybe we should shut you up in one of the spare rooms. Just until the police arrive." Arthur began slowly, as Ludwig tensed he hurried on. "I'm just saying we should keep him locked in, I'm not asking that we beat him or anything! It's just a precaution." Ludwig hesitated and Gilbert noticed, if the panic that flared in his red eyes was any indication.
"Fuck no!" He abandoned any form of propriety he may have been upholding, but then it was Gilbert, so the outburst was hardly unexpected. "You are not locking me up! I didn't kill the asshole, and you can't pin this on me!"
"Gilbert, we're just trying to-" Arthur started again, forcing his tone to remain reasonable even though he was speaking through clenched teeth, but he was abruptly cut off.
"He was with me!"
Heads turned fast enough to cause whiplash, and Roderich stiffened under the combined sets of eyes, but held himself with the same dignity as ever as he elaborated, "we were arguing again, if you must know. However, much as I find it distasteful, I can vouch for his innocence... in this sense, at least." The Austrian saturated his words with arrogance that would make any noble proud. "I did not wish to admit to being in yet another... 'debate' this evening with Herr Beilschmidt, however as it seems you would otherwise be set on placing the blame on the wrong party, I really must protest." Arthur blinked and attention returned to Gilbert.
"Is this so...?" The Englishman asked, though he couldn't see any reason Roderich would say it if it wasn't. Gilbert just rolled his eyes as he retorted, clearly still infuriated.
"Ja, I was with the fop. Not that anyone thought to ask before you went and tried to make me out as the murderer." He huffed. "Thanks a lot West, by the way." Ludwig had the grace to look sheepish, though he did make an effort to defend himself despite the light flush of shame on his cheeks.
"It... sounded like a reasonable suggestion. I didn't really think you had done it, bruder." He attempted to placate the elder of the two. Gilbert just sighed and waved a hand, the closest Ludwig was likely to get to a statement of forgiveness, and it seemed to suffice. Silence once more settled over those gathered.
"What next...?" Toris' voice held only the faintest of tremors as he broke the pause this time, and there was a determined glint in his eyes that proclaimed he had himself under control. He also happened to be gripping Feliks' hand. Which of them it was meant to comfort wasn't clear, as Feliks still seemed to be having trouble meeting anyone's gaze, although his eyes flicked up now and again to take a quick surveillance of the others and if perhaps his gaze rested on one person longer than anyone else, Arthur failed to note it.
"We find Alfred." The Englishman stated decisively, then added as practically an afterstatement, "and Francis, of course. We must do that first of all." Looks were exchanged, and there was a feeling of trepidation, but no one directly argued the proclamation and Arthur nodded, satisfied. "I happen to have a fairly large home, as it were... so I would suggest splitting up. Pairs or trios, of course, it would not do to be running about helter-skelter each on one's own."
"That makes sense enough." Eduard was the one to respond this time, having at last quieted Raivis' delicate whimpers, although the petite Latvian was still shaking like a mouse in a cat's paws, and twice as jumpy. 'On edge' could not begin to act as a sufficient description. "I'll search with Raivis, of course..." He added needlessly.
"We will partner." Yao announced as well, his tone allowing for no argument as he rose and gestured for Kiku to stand with him. The Japanese did with a gesture of assent, and Matthew appeared to have drifted closer to Eduard and Raivis.
"I'll uh... come with you two, eh? He seems pretty scared so..." The Canadian offered kindly, and Eduard gave him a grateful smile and a nod. Toris kept hold of Feliks' hand, although the Pole kept shooting looks over at Kiku and Yao, and opened his mouth a few times as though to say something, though he didn't.
"Me and Feliciano are partnering!" Lovino declared, yanking on Feli's sleeve when the Italian looked ready to protest, shooting longing glances at Ludwig. It was no wonder, either. The German was easily the most formidable of the lot, at least in appearance, and would likely serve as the best protection. Still, Lovi was adamant on pairing with his brother, and Arthur was quick to step up to the younger Beilschmidt as he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of spending an inordinate amount of time alone with either Gilbert or Roderich, for what should be obvious reasons. This left the aforementioned only each other to partner with, which was in and of itself a bad idea, but Arthur had other concerns at the moment.
"Right then, we'll each of us go a different direction, surely it won't take terribly long to find Alfred and Francis, so let us say we shall meet back here in precisely one hour." The Englishman suggested, a proposition that was met with general approval. "Oh... I almost forgot, I'll need to inform the cook that dinner will have to be put in the icebox..." The reminder of food was apparently enough to make at least Feliciano's stomach rumble, although most of the others seemed to share Arthur's ruined appetite.
"We'll head there first, then." Ludwig said decisively, and went on to be the first to tug open the door and lead the way into the hall... or, that was what he meant to do, at least. His plans were rather spoiled when the door suddenly slammed open with incredible force, crashing violently into the wall and almost taking Ludwig's extended hand with it, though the German managed to snatch the appendage back just in the nick of time.
"DON'T WORRY! I'M HERE!" Arthur had been standing next to Ludwig, so the bellow hit him right in the ears, and he immediately clapped his hands to his head with a wince. Damn, now his headache was giving off the warning signs of turning into a migraine... still, despite the pain, Arthur felt an incredible ocean of relief flood his chest.
Alfred stood in the doorway. He looked damp and windblown, and his cheeks were flushed, but he was clearly unharmed.
"Uh..." Matthew broke the ensuing silence. "Where the hell have you been, Al? We were just about to go looking for you!" Alfred walked forward with a grave expression and set his hands on his brother's shoulders, causing Matthew's expression to change from exasperated relief to deep concern. Alfred rarely looked so serious...
"Matty, this may shock you but..." Alfred took a deep breath, the room hung on his every word. "There has been a murder. Someone killed that Ivan guy."
If there was anything that could have brought the tension in the room crashing down, that was it. Roderich let out a snort of laughter on reflex, then slapped a hand over his mouth, flushing in mortification and mumbling apologies. Ludwig was just staring at Alfred, his stance screaming disbelief that anyone could be so thick.
"You-you moron!" Arthur stammered, furious at Alfred for his obliviousness. "We already knew that! Why the devil do you think we're in here!?"
"Uh... I..." Alfred had the grace to appear sheepish, but only momentarily. "Well how was I supposed to know!"
"You were gone for quite a while! How could we not have noticed?" Arthur snapped, his anger only growing at the American's bewilderment. How could Alfred be this self-centered!?
"Hey shouldn't we be focusing on the more important thing?" Alfred retorted defensively, and Arthur crossed his arms, glaring as venemously as he could. It was even worse that Alfred should actually be talking sense in his state. Arthur fought the urge to grind his teeth, as he knew that Alfred actually had a point for once. There were more important matters at hand; finding out what had happened to Francis, for example.
"Jones is right about that much," Ludwig said, obviously having thoughts along the same lines, "now that we've found him we should be focusing on-" And yet another interruption lengthened the growing list of them that evening. Alfred had always been somewhat of a glory hog... he didn't really intend to be rude, he was just one of those people so accustomed to living life in the spotlight that they didn't think anything of usurping the command position in any and all situations.
"Bringing the murderer to justice!" Alfred interrupted with a triumphant grin, punching a fist into the palm of his other hand. His cheer was so out of place under the circumstances that it was a good few minutes before anyone recovered from the displacement enough to respond to the enthusiastic declaration. Matthew was hiding his face in his hands, and Arthur sympathized with the action, rather tempted to do so himself, really... Alfred was still a child in so many ways, it was hard not to be embarrassed for him at times, since he certainly never seemed to feel said emotion for himself.
"...First we would have to find out who the murderer is, though, Mr. Alfred..." Toris pointed out reasonably. "And besides being very unsafe, we do not have any method to be completely certain about that..."
"What are you talking about? I know exactly who it is!" Alfred exclaimed, eliciting more than one sharp intake of breath around the room. "It was the butler!"
"...What." Arthur was mildly horrified that he'd ended up chorusing the statement with Gilbert, of all people, but that was the least of his current concerns. "Alfred, that- you- that's so ridiculous I don't even know what to say!"
"Oh come on, it's always the butler!" Alfred said, with such conviction that the small part of Arthur that had hoped it was a distasteful joke promptly shriveled and died.
"This isn't a murder story, you moron." Matthew stated with the practiced patience of an experienced sibling to an imbecile. Arthur was fairly certain Matthew had spoken the words everyone had been thinking, albeit in a much more calm and reasonable manner than the actual thoughts of many of them. Alfred looked highly affronted that his 'irrefutable logic' had been... refuted.
"It's the same basic principle!" He protested stubbornly, crossing his arms and taking on an expression that Arthur would have described as 'pouting' on Rochelle. On Alfred it was... still pouting, actually, although the American would probably deny it until his face turned blue from oxygen deprivation. Arthur was disturbed to note that the slightly protruding lower lip made Alfred look just a little too sultry, or at least it was definitely giving Arthur some... less than legal thoughts. Most disconcerting. Arthur shook his head in hopes to dislodge the ridiculous notions, and prayed that the flush on his face would be taken for one of exclusively anger.
"No, it is not." Yao spoke this time, his sharp glare and dead-even tone enough to derail Alfred for a few moments. "Even if it were, the foremost thing, even in stories, that is needed to condemn a murderer is... motive." Alfred looked thoughtful.
"Oh yeah..." He muttered, then looked back to Arthur curiously, "hey Artie, why would your butler want to kill Ivan?" The question may as well have been a cold bucket of water over the Englishman's libido, and he felt a strange mixture of relief, disappointment, and renewal of heavy exasperation. Arthur pressed his hands to his temples and rubbed, working hard to keep from shouting, although an inordinate amount of his irritation did leak into his voice as he replied.
"I don't have a butler, currently." He stated flatly. The best description for Alfred's reaction would be 'crestfallen.' The American literally appeared to deflate at the words, the pout evolving into a disheartened sulk. Arthur sighed, his anger melting away despite his best efforts. A grown man really shouldn't be allowed to look so... endearing.
"You really are just an overgrown child." Arthur said, but it was with a sort of tired affection that had Alfred deepening his sulk rather than retorting. "At any rate, we really should be getting back to the important issue- which is in fact the matter of locating Bonnefoy. Preferably this shall be done before he manages to empty his stomach on one of my carpets."
"Better be quick then, that bastard drank way too much this time..." Lovino grumbled, Feliciano nodding worriedly beside him.
"I'll partner with Alfred, we can search-" Matthew began, but his brother had tapped him on the shoulder, drawing his attention away. "What? What is it?" Alfred glanced around the room, then whispered something with an inquiring air into Matthew's ear. "What? Yes, Bonnefoy is the blond guy that came in with the Ital- what? What is this about?" Alfred stepped back again with a serious nod.
"I think I'd better tell you guys where I was." He said gravely, and somehow, this time, Arthur didn't think there was going to be a ridiculous outburst following the announcement. Unfortunately, he and Matthew seemed to be the only ones that had picked up on the genuine air this time.
"Oh come on, we've wasted enough time as it is!" Gilbert groaned, leaning against a wall as if exhausted, although he'd displayed his normal level of vitality only moments before. Now he was glaring between Alfred and the door to the room, as though either or both was the source of his current anguish. Roderich and Ludwig clearly shared his disapproval, the desire to ignore the American and simply leave for the search more than evident.
"W-we need to find Uncle Francis... can't we hear your story later?" Feliciano piped up in a much less aggressive tone than Gilbert's, but from the way he was bouncing on his heels he was obviously no less anxious to move on. Toris had already helped Feliks out of his chair, and he and his brothers were obviously planning on slipping out under the distraction as they padded around the group towards the door.
"I know where the guy you're looking for is." Alfred's uncharacteristically calm declaration had everyone arresting in their places once more. Arthur was certain that the American was being honest, although the Germans at least were giving him highly skeptical looks.
"Why wouldn't you have said so earlier?" Eduard asked irritably, stress causing him to abandon his usual silent and calculating nature. He was clearly one of the skeptics, as the majority of the room was. Matthew at least, however, had also picked up on the vibe from his brother, an ability granted no doubt due to the trait of sibling intimacy.
"That doesn't matter. Alfred, where is he then? Was he alright?" Arthur questioned. He didn't particularly care for the wellbeing of the Frenchman, at least to a certain extent, but he did care for the wellbeing of his home, and a Francis in that state could do at least as much damage to his surroundings as to himself. Alfred looked down, not meeting anyone's gaze, and took a deep breath.
"Well, 'alright' isn't how I'd describe him... you see, it happened like this. I went into the parlor after you went off to... wherever you went off to. I wanted to tell Matty somethin', though I can't remember what it is now." Alfred pursued his lips, glancing up at the ceiling briefly as though trying to call the memory forth, before shrugging and continuing his tale, "anyway I found that Russian guy's body, which was a shock let me tell you, but not so much I didn't notice the window was open-of course, I thought whoever did it escaped through there! So I jumped out to chase them down, but it was snowing so hard that I couldn't see anything..."
Of course, the window! Arthur knew he couldn't have left it unlatched. So the murderer had escaped that way? But then... if it were one of them, then the perpetrator would be obvious. Alfred said he had been outside, and from his snow-dampened clothes and windtossed hair that had to be true, but anyone who had been outside would look the same.
"Alfred..." Arthur began nervously, hoping that it wasn't true... no, it couldn't have been... not his Alfred...
"So I decided to just come back in and protect you guys! But when I went back to the window it was locked!" Alfred continued on, clearly too absorbed in his story to have heard Arthur say his name. "So I decided to try the front door, cause I was pretty cold by then, and when I came around to the front door I tripped over another body!"
The world froze.
Arthur couldn't quite hear what Alfred was saying anymore, though he could see that the American was still talking. He felt numb... two bodies? Two people murdered? And there was only one person it could be, one person unaccounted for...
Feliciano's wail of misery broke Arthur out of his strangled thoughts.
"N-nooooo! Uncle Francis!" The younger Vargas sobbed, "I kn-knew we should have taken him hooome b-but I wanted to come to the p-party aaahh...-!" And from there he descended into babbled Italian and noisy crying. Lovino was uncharacteristically silent, his gaze transferring slowly from Alfred, to his distraught brother, and finally to the wall. He didn't seem to be seeing any of it though. At Feliciano's outburst, Alfred had finally been stunned into silence. No one seemed to know what to say... Arthur could feel awkwardness seeping into the tension, everyone trying desperately to think of something, but no one having any idea how to comfort the brothers.
Finally, with a deep sigh, Ludwig walked over and pulled Feliciano into an unsure hug; the Italian latched on and buried his face in the blond's chest, still sobbing away and stammering unintelligibly.
"He must have..." Roderich began, voice breaking a little, and he quickly cleared his throat. "That is, Bonnefoy must have witnessed the murder... likely in his drunken state he panicked and escaped through the window..."
"...And ended up freezing to death." Arthur finished with a shudder, unable even to imagine how horrible it must have been for Francis, out of his mind with fear and alcohol, stumbling through the blizzard, trying to reach the front door as feeling seeped out of limbs and the heart ceased to beat... he may not have liked the Frenchman, but he wouldn't have wished that fate on anyone.
"Or was silenced by the murderer himself." Yao's arms were crossed as the Chinese man broke his quiet, his slanted glare once more directed at Alfred. "How convenient it would be... that you turn out to in fact be the first to find the bodies of both the original victim and the only witness..."