XX

If you find me

Chapter 07

XX

"What's going on?" Alfred asked, finding Francis in one of the guest rooms leaning out of the open window to stare at something. Francis spared him a glance then bid him come closer.

Alfred stepped besides him. He took off his glasses, polished them and put the back on, squinting to see.

It was a flag, the Union Jack to be precise, but for the lion of England plastered across it in bright gold and, faintly but distinctly, the chant of 'God Save the Queen' was clashing with roars of 'democracy', 'freedom' and 'fight fascism'.

"What's that?" he asked, slightly unnerved. It had not been more than a week since his return from Buckingham but even he could not lock himself away from the unrest he felt growing on the air.

Francis breathed an audible sigh. "You do not watch the news, do you?"

"It's depressing," Alfred pouted. Besides, he did not want to risk the chance of Arthur overhearing something that might set him off again.

"That," Francis gestured to the flag flying above the rooftops, "is bad news. Or good, depending on what happens next."

Alfred wanted to ask just how it could possibly be good. "Close the window," he ordered. "Draw all the curtains! I don't want Arthur to see th - "

They both started at the sound of something crashing just next door. They shared a brief look. Francis shook his head in response.

"Too late, mon ami."

XX

When he rushed back to the room, Alfred almost had a heart attack.

"Arthur? Dammit Arthur, what are you doing?" he rushed into the room as a decorative plate soared and smashed into pieces above his head.

Arthur was wrecking everything and anything in the room, smashing it to pieces in blind rage.

"I hate it! I hate it!" he cried, destroying everything, shattering teacups, photo frames, crystal glasses; everything that he once found precious shattered to the floor.

Alfred did not think that he even knew what he was breaking anymore, too blinded by tears to see, too numbed by pain to think.

"What did I do that was so wrong?" he continued to cry. "Didn't I serve them? Didn't I try hard enough? Even in the financial crisis, I suffered too! I was sick too! Didn't I try to help? Didn't I suffer as well?"

Alfred tried to approach him without being bludgeoned by the metal bat. Just where had he found that anyway?

"You did! You hurt more than anyone else!" he cried. Noticing the bandages around Arthur's side beginning to turn red again, he rushed forward. He would risk potential brain damage if he could just stop Arthur from his blind rampage. "Arthur your wound is bleeding again! Stop!"

To Alfred's surprise he lowered the bat, panting heavily. "Then – Then why did – why did..?" he gasped, struggling to breathe and speak.

"Arthur, stop!" Alfred grabbed the bat out of his hand, flinging it far to the ground. He wrapped his arms around him, refusing to let go as they sank to the floor. "It's enough...it's enough, you've done everything you could..." he murmured, stroking the back of Arthur's head.

Arthur's body shook with tears. He still had enough obstinate pride to try and keep them suppressed but the effort only made his body quiver more violently. "What did I do wrong?" he managed to ask; a question wrenched from between gritted teeth.

"You didn't do anything wrong! They're the ones who are at fault."

Arthur pounded his fists against Alfred's chest. "Damn it! Damn them! Damn them! Even I! Even I..."

Alfred took the beating without protest. He simply held him tighter. His shirt had once been stained with Arthur's blood and now it was drenched with his tears. "Shhh, it's okay. Don't worry, it's okay," he continued to murmur over the sound of Arthur's suppressed sobs.

He was not sure how long they stayed like that; the two of them holding on to each other like survivors after a storm. Alfred was not even sure at what point Arthur's fatigue caught up with him and sent him to sleep again.

Those bandages would have to be changed again, he thought to himself. Returning Arthur to his bed, he took it upon himself to deal with the wound rather than call Kiku or Yao. He did not know why, but for some reason he felt that calling someone from the outside would have destroyed what fragile balance they had managed to maintain here.

Alfred gently stroked Arthur's hair, brushing a few odd strands away from his eyes. Why did he only look at peace now? Leaning over, he pushed the hair out of the way and placed a kiss on Arthur's forehead.

Outside, the streets roared with angry cries but inside, enclosed within the protective walls of Arthur's room, it was completely silent.

XX

If Arthur's breakdown had been good for anything, it seemed to have released his tongue along with all those pent up emotions. Alfred even entertained the vaguest notion of hope when Arthur began to talk as he had once done. Although things were not quite the same, at least he was not as cold was he was before.

However, if Arthur was calming down, the atmosphere in the city was growing more violent. The tenseness threatened to snap. It came to a point when Alfred could not walk outside without running into a horde of protesters.

The peaceful protests would turn into riots and the police would be called out with tear gas and riot gear. Alfred only barely managed to escape getting caught up in one when he went out shopping for supplies.

"What's going on?" Arthur was curious enough to break his silence when Alfred came diving into his room, cursing and wiping off bits of banana peel from his coat.

Alfred turned wrenched his gaze away from him. Ever since he was little, he was never able to lie with a straight face, especially not to Arthur of all people, who had an uncanny sixth sense for these sorts of things.

"Arthur, no matter what, it's going to be okay!" He wished he did not have to yell that at the floor.

"What's going on?"

"It's crazy! They came out publicly about reforming the government and returning to a monarchy. My boss is against it because it's not democratic but you'll be surprised how much support it has both nationally and internationally. People are desperate. Right now, public opinion in the UK is divided between the Royalists in favour of the change and the Civils who are standing by the government."

As flustered and unable to think properly as he was, Alfred's blood ran cold when he heard Arthur say the two words he had never thought he would hear.

"Civil war."

"What?" Alfred turned to him, horrified.

"I have a feeling that things will probably amount to a civil war," Arthur repeated, strangle calm.

Alfred stuttered trying to find the right words to express his fear. "No...why?" he demanded, angrily punching the nearest wall. Arthur flinched at the moment of contact, turning away from the sight of bleeding knuckles.

"This is...too much! This is too much! Can't they see how much this is tormenting you?" Alfred hissed, shaking out the pain trilling up his hand.

A bitter smile tugged at Arthur's lips. "Humans are selfish, didn't I say so?"

Alfred turned to him and bit his lip. He did not want Arthur returning to his hatred and disgust of humans, not now when it seemed to have simmered. There was no need to awaken that sleeping lion.

"Even if they are you still can't turn your back on your nation! Even Russia loves his own people!" he cried, gripping Arthur's shoulders though he could not run anyway. "When you were betrayed, it hurt, didn't it? You still care for people deep down though! If you didn't why would it hurt when you confronted the queen? Why did you ask her why? Why did you plead with her if you really didn't care?"

Arthur glared at him. A small bubble of anger rose to his throat. What did Alfred know about anything? How could he lecture him as if he had any idea what he went through and yet why did it hurt to hear those words?

"Stop it," he said curtly, staring at Alfred in warning, though Alfred was never one to read the signs properly.

"You hesitated," he continued obliviously. "You didn't kill her because you still cared for her! Because you were worried what would happen to your people if their queen suddenly died!"

"Shut up," he hissed, hoping a fiercer tone would halt Alfred's tongue.

"It hurt, didn't it? Thinking about what would happen to your people. It hurt didn't it?"

"Shut up."

"That was why you were crying last night, because you still cared!"

"Shut up!" Arthur finally cried, flinging an arm at him to push him away. Only Alfred could make him snap the way he did. Only Alfred and his idiocy. "God dammit, you insensitive git, can't you shut up for a minute?"

Alfred jumped back to avoid the blow and hovered around the bed trying not to look worried. "Arthur..." he breathed, only barely stopping himself from reaching out again lest he be cruelly shoved back again.

Arthur expelled a loud sigh and fell against the pillows, sinking deeper. He closed his eyes and listened to the silence buzzing around his head. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep and yet he could feel his bones shaking with the premonition of war.

When would there finally be an end to this? He was tired of dealing with humans yet as a nation he would never be able to escape them. Arthur was not sure who he hated more; himself or the stupid, selfish humans.

Or maybe the one he hated the most was Alfred who made him feel this way, who snatched away all his exits and told him things he did not want to hear; idiotic, preposterous things like not hating humans.

"Civil war, yes, I'm on the outbreak of civil war. I can feel it," he whispered without opening his eyes. "You know what happens to us when a country goes through civil war."

Alfred bit his lip. Yes, he had been through enough civil wars to know what it felt like. Although the memories were hazy, he had also seen various others go through the same thing; schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, sleeplessness, self-harm; the results were never pretty.

He clenched his fists. To hell with what anyone else thought, he would not let this happen to Arthur no matter what!

Alfred lunged at Arthur, almost knocking him flat. Arthur's eyes flew open in surprise as Alfred wrapped his arms around him, holding on as tightly as he could without crushing him.

"I won't let that happen! War won't help anything, just make the situation worse! I'll use all the influence I have to resolve things properly and peacefully!"

"You can't do everything," Arthur found himself trying to pacify him.

"Like hell I can!" he raged. "I'm the goddamn hero here! If I say I can do it, I can - "

All that was needed to silence him was Arthur's hand on his head, running through his hair.

"It's okay," he whispered. He began to chuckle. Alfred did not like the sound. It was bitter and self-depreciating. He did not realised how badly Arthur was shaking until he loosened his grip to look at him properly.

"You're right. Dammit, why are you always right?" Arthur muttered, trying to hide his face with his hands. "I've tried so hard to just stop caring as well. I hate them but I can't stop worrying about them. Damn ungrateful brats, why can't they have more consideration for my feelings?"

"Maybe because about ninety-nine percent of them don't even know you exist," Alfred joked, though it was a lame one at best, accompanied by a wobbly, half-hearted smile.

Arthur managed to smile a little, or tried to at least though the tears marred it. "I really hate them," he confessed with a shake of his head that buried itself in Alfred's chest. "I really don't want anything more to do with them. This war is ridiculous...will they find happiness this way?"

"Arthur, I told you that I won't let this happen!" Alfred hissed fiercely. He was ready to fight tooth and nail to stop this.

He did not want a war, not one like this. Arthur had suffered enough. There was no need for him to go through this kind of pain as well. It was all too cruel and Alfred was a hero; it was his job to stop cruel things from happening.

"It's okay. Suffering with your nation is part of the job description," Arthur almost seemed ready to laugh.

"Arthur..." Alfred shook his head, denying reality if reality insisted on letting the situation slip further. "Arthur, I don't want to see this happen to you."

Hands through his hair soothed him. "Then don't look, idiot."

He felt the beginning of tears threatening to fall. Alfred punched the mattress as they slipped down his cheek. If he could wipe away the whole world and leave only them he felt that he really would do so.

"No! I love you, you dumbass! That's why I - "

Alfred's voice choked up at that moment, though it was probably fortunate for him. They stared at each other in shock, neither believing what had been said. Slowly, Arthur shrugged and shook his head.

"Honestly, you suck at confessions."

"Don't laugh! I'm under a lot of stress right now!"

"Right, right."

Alfred let his shoulders slump. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against Arthur's, nose touching in a gentle gesture that he hoped communicated all the things he was too embarrassed to say. "Please don't suffer alone anymore."

"I won't," Arthur sighed. Why did he sound so tired? "I'll be suffering with millions of other people. Suffering, just like them."

That was not the answer Alfred wanted to hear. He wanted to hear him say something like 'there won't be a revolt' or 'there won't be a war' but this was probably the best that he was going to get. At least Arthur had acknowledged that, like it or not, he was tied to his people.

"Arthur...so it's true what they say after all. A mother's love is peace," he chuckled.

Arthur's fist lightly hit the side of Alfred's head. "Don't call me a mother."

Alfred laughed at the almost-pout on Arthur's face. How odd it was to laugh, he thought. Really, he could not tell is he was extremely happy or completely miserable. So he laughed. He laughed so hard that he cried.

XX

There was nothing anyone could do to stop the war now. It had escalated too far and was only gaining momentum as the weeks passed. There was nothing anyone could do to fully stop the pain but at least they could help abate it just a little. It was strange how even those small words could lift Alfred's heart.

Yao offered to make something to numb the pain and send Arthur to sleep for about three years or so. The first few years of civil war were always the most painful. Alfred wished that it would not take so long before the country settled down but he had been cautioned not to let his hopes rise too high in that area.

Currently, Alfred remained alone with Arthur in his room, tying Arthur's wrists to the headboard so that he could not hurt himself when the symptoms started. Kiku promised to stay and nurse Arthur with him but the rest would withdraw and try to encourage their bosses to help the situation simmer down as soon as possible.

Alfred took his new task of binding Arthur hand and foot to the bed with increasing seriousness. He stared at the thick rope and tried not to think about anything else. It only pained him to think about the future and the past was a place he did not want to go to at the moment either. He only had the present now, and the rope in his hand that mercilessly bit into Arthur's skin.

"When this is over, I might be someone completely different," Arthur said placidly, letting himself be tied to the bed as if this were custom. He had taken Yao's medicine earlier and was now only waiting for it to take effect.

"Arthur is always Arthur," Alfred said with conviction. He finished checking that the knots were tight and turned to him, cupping the side of his face with his hand. "I know you. You won't change at all."

"Alfred," Arthur looked as though he was about to say something more but bit his lip to stop up the words.

Alfred did not mind it. He only wanted this war to pass as quickly as possible with as little pain to Arthur. "You'll always be the same to me," he murmured and ruffled his hair.

Arthur frowned at him and tried to fix the mess but found that it was impossible with his wrists bound above his head. "Alfred," his reproving tone melted away into something softer, "until I fall asleep..."

"Yeah, I promise. I'll stay with you until then," he smiled, lying down alongside Arthur with his head buried in the crook of his neck. He felt Arthur sigh and his breath touch the side of his ear.

"Do you think they'll be happy this way?"

"Maybe," he replied, though he would rather that Arthur did not think about them right now, not when his awesome self was currently keeping him company. He chuckled and lifted himself closer to Arthur's body, leaning over him so that his shadow completely masked him.

"Don't worry about it too much. You always worry about stupid stuff. That's why you're starting to get wrinkles right here," he playfully poked the point between Arthur's eyes that wrinkled the most when he furrowed his eyebrows.

Arthur's eyes fluttered shut then opened again to look at him. He repeated this gesture several times, keeping his eyes closed longer after each passing moment, feeling the medicine finally weighing down his eyes.

"Alfred, you know I never...never answered...you...before..." he began to slur, trying to keep his vision focused on Alfred's smiling face for as long as possible. "But I...I also...also love - "

Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur's eyes closed for the final time, his head tilted to one side and his body relaxed as he was sent into a drug-induced sleep.

Alfred remained watching over him for a while. Only when Arthur's eyes were fully shut did he allow his smile to become a frown, brushing his thumb gently over Arthur's closed eyelids.

He waited a while, watching Arthur carefully before he finally decided to rise. The fluttering curtains caused specks of light to play across Arthur's face. Alfred drew them close so that only faint beams peeked through the bottom.

This was a war no one needed. Personally, Alfred did not care if the government or the monarchy won if it meant that the whole stupid revolt would die down quickly. Although knowing his boss would definitely oppose the idea of a ruling monarchy, Alfred was also inclined to take the side of the government after how Arthur had been treated by the queen. However, either way, he knew that though it may be a civil war, it was not something he could stand by and quietly watch from the sidelines.

Sparing one last look at Arthur's sleeping face he left the quiet room with grim determination, making his way downstairs. Throwing open the front door, he stepped outside to greet the tumultuous din of the London riots.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, even though he knew the dream to follow would be anything but sweet.

XX

Next part will be the last part - the epilogue