Look up Humon on Deviant art . Com - she's amazing. I've been reading her "Scandinavia and the World" comics and they're great. Its like Hetalia but with more accurate Scandinavian stereotypes.
…I made a gecko in my sewing class out of gray-green fabric, and knowing he'd be sewn badly I named him Jailbreak. He's adorable and has mismatched white and black eyes. Crappy hand-made stuffed animals FTW!
Vash's last name has "WIN" in it XD
Chapter Seven: Jailbreak
His vision was terrible, couldn't see a things, and with his God awful internal compass he couldn't remember which was home. He probably should have just called Mattie to pick him up like his brother always told him to when Alfred went out partying but his car was new and shiny. Alfred didn't want to leave it alone in some parking lot.
What if someone robbed him? Or worse - keyed the car!
No, no, no, no gansta was touchin' his baby.
Besides, it was three in the morning. He didn't want to wake up his brother just to take his drunk ass back home. Alfred was a big boy. He proved that with his driver's license.
Alfred giggled.
"Ass, it's such a funny word! Its like Ass-Ass-in. Hehe."
He blinked and rubbed his eyes. There was something there, damn it.
"Stupid friggin' speck."
Alfred spilt his drink, swearing like a sailor as he reached down for it.
There was he flash of an up coming car, a wild honk, and then nothing.
Alfred bolted upright in bed, covered in sweat. The phone was ringing, singing out Lady GaGa's "Just Dance" song. Alfred swept a palm over his eyes, further detaching himself from the haunting memories.
He rolled out of bed (What time was it? Six?) and hopped to the phone, knowing it would take too long to attach his prosthetic.
"Hello and Gooood Morning! Alfred Faaantastic Jones here! How can I be your hero today?" Alfred sang, ever his chipper self.
"Good morning Mr. Jones, this is Officer Zwingli." Vash's voice was precise as always.
"Ah! Hey, Vash, what's up?"
His heart started to pound. Vash only ever called when he had a lead on the Haters. Why would he call this early?
~O~O~O~O~
"No running in the halls!" a nurse called after the sprinting American.
"Sorry! No time!" Alfred shouted back, not even bothering to look back at the poor nurse. He dodged visitors and patients in the hall way. The hospital was more crowded than he thought it would be. An old man shook his withered fist at Alfred as the blond passed.
"No shouting, either!"
"Right, sorry!"
Where was the room? Damn his mapping skills. Was it 101 or 801?
Alfred stopped, scratching his hair. He was lost again. Maybe he should get a doctor.
Nah, that was lame. He could find it himself.
Before the American could march off on what could have been a heroic adventure an angel appeared.
"Kiku!" he squealed like a school girl, startling several nearby patients. He ran to the small Japanese man, reminding himself not to embrace the shy doctor. Kiku jumped like a frightened cat, nearly dropping his clipboard as he exited a patient's room he was just in. He put a calming hand to his heart. Dr. Honda turned to face Alfred, smiling a small polite smile and cursing is jumpy nerves. He'd never become a top surgeon with such nervousness.
"Good morning Mr. Jones. It is good to see you again. I am a bit busy right now, have a good day."
"Wait! Kiku! Do you know where Ivan is?"
The doctor made a face of confusion as Alfred panted, waiting for an answer.
"I am sorry, I don't know who -"
"The big scary Russian guy! The one who should have come in this morning? Braginski! His name is Braginski!"
Kiku thought for a moment but nodded. Alfred could have kissed him he was so happy!
"How is he? Is he okay? Is he missing anything?"
It was common of the hated to gouge out eyes or take limbs.
God he hoped Ivan was okay.
"Physically he is alright," answered Dr. Honda, leading Alfred down the hallway, smiling and nodding to the people who greeted him. "He had a few bruises and minor cuts. Mr. Braginski was kicked repeatedly but his ribs and lungs are fine. He has a minor concussion so we will keep him for observations overnight."
Kiku stopped at the door, blocking Alfred from slipping past. The American was impatient to get into the room.
Why did Kiku stop?
Didn't' he see Alfred was in a hurry to be a hero?
"Mr. Jones, there are some things you have to know before I can let you into this room."
The Japanese man's tone was always professional, serious. He was a stoic person by nature, but this tone, it conjured images of the gravest matters. Kiku's voice better fit that of the grim reaper. Alfred listened, heart pounding again.
"Physically he is stable - he'll recover completely within the week. . . But mentally, mentally Mr. Braginski is unstable. When he was first brought here we had to give him a sedative and tie him to his bed because he was so violent."
Kiku pulled at his shirt collar, uncomfortable with what he was about to say next. Alfred's already clenched heart wavered and sank. "He won't stop crying, and tries to attack anyone who comes near."
Kiku sighed and flipped trough the chart in his hands. "There was no sign of rape but what ever happened in the ally last night was very traumatic. One of the men who attacked him is in critical condition, almost dead. The other is being interrogated as we speak."
Kiku stepped out of the way, allowing Alfred to go on. The doctor cast his gaze to the floor.
"Be careful. If something happens call for help immediately. I am not really suppose to let visitors in the room but he calls for you."
Alfred tried to say something heroic. He really did.
For once, he couldn't think of anything to tell the doctor. No smile, no cheer, no laughter of "don't worry".
He took a breath, charging his faltering courage and walked into the room.
The first thing he was aware of was the babbling Dr. Honda mentioned. Nonsense, Russian mumbles being uttered in a cold, hair rising voice by the mountain of a man at the window.
The second thing the American noticed was the small beeping of a regulator, then the dimness of the lights and the stale hospital smell Alfred had long ago become accustomed to; dust, cleaner, and urine.
Alfred approached Ivan, his prosthetic leg making a dull thud in the quiet of the room. He pulled a chair close to Ivan's bed, all the while watching the faint tell tale sign of life in the Russian's chest rising and falling.
Ivan was on his side, facing the window, his back to Alfred. The mint green sheets were crumpled around his massive form, his gown splayed and exposing the vertebra of his strong (but shivering) back. His massive paws were chained to the bed post in a plastic cuff, not unlike a policeman's.
Alfred gulped.
Ivan was a mess.
The American shuffled in his chair, unsure of what to do next.
". . .Ivan, you okay?" he asked, hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket.
The putty haired man froze, back ridged, breath stopping.
Alfred scratched his head at a furious pace.
"Yeah, dumb question."
"Alfred?"
Ivan's voice was tiny, more fragile than Mathew's. It was heart breaking.
What happened to the strong man to break him so completely?
Alfred felt a wave of fury. He wanted to kill the bastards who had done this. He actually wanted to kill them!
. . .But then the anger was replaced with shame and guilt.
It was his fault Ivan was like this. He couldn't help him in time.
Alfred failed.
"Yeah, its me. Vash just called me a little while ago so I came here as -"
Ivan turned around, lavender eyes red, puffy, and wet with tears. His lovely silver blond hair was matted with grim and sweat, plastered to his cheeks and forehead.
What happened to him?
"- as I could. . ." Alfred finished, unable to turn away.
Ivan's pale cheeks were flushed and covered in thick, ugly burses, lip quivering. His hands jerked when he tried to move them as he continued babbling, crying, sobbing in Russian.
Alfred had no idea what Ivan was saying but the emotion it him like a punch to the gut.
He could remember his brother sobbing like this when he lost his favorite teddy bear, or when Alfred himself endured the loss of his first dog.
Alfred hated when people cried. He felt worthless, useless. He wasn't doing his job. He wasn't being the hero he could be.
The last time he witnessed someone crying so much was when Mathew visited him in the hospital just after he lost his leg.
He didn't like being reminded of that.
"It's okay," Alfred said, standing to put a comforting hand on Ivan's arm. He couldn't think of anything to say but that stupid cliché line. Ivan tried to jerk away but could not with his hands tied. Alfred didn't need to see fresh tears staining his face to know Ivan's intent.
Alfred's hand fell limp.
"Come on, talk to me," he said, taking a seat. Now his voice was shaking.
This was all his fault. If he had let Ivan be the exception to the rule, if he had made sure he got to the park, if he had let Ivan camp out in his house this wouldn't have happened.
"Dr. Honda told me you were calling for me, right?" The man's frightened expression did not change. "Well, your hero is here!" He stuck a pose.
Nothing.
Alfred sighed sitting back in the chair, stretching his long legs. Before Ivan would have giggled and called him an idiot when he did that.
"Tired of hospital food yet?"
Ivan spoke suddenly, voice quiet, harsh, almost violent. He flicked his eyes at a bag on the other side of the room on a table. Alfred stared, trying to process the odd movement.
Ivan repeated the same phrase as before
Alfred stood and inspected the bag. The large man's clothes were in it, newly washed and stain free.
"You want your clothes?" Alfred asked over his shoulder.
Ivan shouted a long strand of words, voice more violent and accusing than before.
What ever it was Ivan wanted the large man was frantic about it. Alfred still had no clue how to begin to understand what was said but by the tone alone he knew it wasn't just the clothes he wanted. Alfred continued searching the bag, finding at the bottom the halved scarf.
Ivan went wild, jerking the bed as he tried to pull away, to retrieve his precious scarf. He was a little scary, Alfred noted. Like Exorcist scary. And Alfred still had nightmares from that movie!
Against his better instincts Alfred walked forward, Ivan becoming more and more crazed with each step. He was a hero, and hero's had to be strong, even when facing scary situations. Fearing for life and limb the blond wrapped the broken scarf around Ivan's neck.
The reaction was almost immediate.
Ivan physically and emotionally calmed, breath easing as he stopped babbling for the first time since Alfred entered the room. He sank in the bed, closing his eyes, soft ashen hair falling into delicate place over his forehead.
Minutes passed, Alfred sitting in his chair and marveling at how at peace Ivan was now.
"So. . .you couldn't just ask for it in English, could ya?"
From the bed Ivan gave a mirth-less laugh. He cracked a lavender eye open, tears no longer drowning it.
"Was I not speaking English?" His accent was thick and his voice sheepish. Alfred wondered if Ivan's accent was this thick when he was sleepy or in the middle of se -
"Nope," Alfred smirked, derailing his Francis tainted mind. He balanced on the back two legs of his chair.
"It kinda seemed like you were possessed. I was just about to run down the hall shouting 'A priest! I need a priest!' I'm sure if we check your chest we'll find 666 tattooed there."
He grinned as Ivan giggled.
"You only say that because your own voice was sold to the devil," mocked the larger man, voice and face turning cheerful and childish again. "I am sure you're fluent in tongues."
"Not as fluent as Francis, I'm sure. He's French after all."
Ivan stared, the comment blowing over his head. Alfred blushed at his own implications, moving into another, unrelated topic.
Ivan and Alfred spoke for over an hour, topics meandering and changing often with the American's easily distracted mind set. Ivan's voice was steady, comfortable despite the circumstances. He brought order to Alfred's sporadic rants.
Before long Kiku came to check up. He was surprised but pleased Ivan was awake and "lucid" meaning responsive and not insane. It was obvious Ivan still had hospital drugs running through his system, the Russian's eyelids drooping but all signs were good. He informed the pair that Officer Zwingli would be in soon to start an investigation. If all went well the cuffs would be removed.
The room was quiet when Kiku left. Talking about what happened the night before had been an unspoken taboo, one that was about to break. The pair locked eyes, Ivan hated that he looked so vulnerable.
Alfred gave his most encouraging smile.
Vash walked into the room, followed by his partner. Alfred stood and shook the Swiss' hand, turning back to face Ivan, gesturing to the weakened man. Ivan tried to smile, but it just came out looking like a sick wince. Alfred was asked politely to leave but Ivan interrupted, saying that he wouldn't speak unless the American stayed. Alfred argued that Ivan should just follow the police's demands but stayed.
The investigation began, vague at first but as Vash asked more questions the tale became more personal. Alfred found himself gripping the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white as he fought urges to both search the streets to make the thugs pay and crawl into bed with his Russian boyfriend to hold him tight, kiss away all the pain and sorrow.
When Ivan reached the part in his story where his scarf was cut the large man stopped. He was very quiet for a long moment, so quiet the members of the room could almost hear each other's pulse.
Ivan's hands trembled. He wanted to hold his scarf. He wanted to touch it and make sure it was okay. Above all he wanted to fix it but he had no idea how to. Ivan couldn't nit, Ivan couldn't sew, but he vowed to learn to fix it.
Part of him just wanted to run home and embrace his older sister and have her repair the scarf; but that was impossible even if he did go home. They weren't allowed to see each other anymore.
Ivan finished the interview, the police satisfied with the information given. No criminal charges were issued, Ivan having acted out in self defense. Vash thanked the pair, reminding Alfred that they would talk again when the officer had more information.
As soon as they left the room Ivan groaned out what Alfred would guess were Russian curses.
Alfred turned to the larger man, trying to decide what to do.
"I have a cousin who can fix it. He sews sweaters all the time so he should be able to fix your scarf in ten seconds flat!" Alfred spat out, willing to say anything to cheer up his boyfriend. Ivan's distant eyes focused, snapping over to Alfred. His expression was blank for a long moment, then hope, joy, excitement, and even apprehension swam through those light orbs.
Ivan looked so beautiful. Even bruised and dirty the Russian was still as enchanting as the devil. He was hansom, beautiful, vulnerable and strong.
Alfred crossed the room to sit next to Ivan. The bear of a man had other ideas, yanking the blond to his feet and onto the bed. Alfred fell onto Ivan, making the putty haired man wince as he hit burses.
He tried to pull away but Ivan held him in place with an iron grip.
It was awkward and uncomfortable but the two wouldn't move from each other for the world. Alfred snuggled into Ivan's laboring chest, trying not to put his whole weight against the Russian.
"Alfred," Ivan said, chest rumbling beneath the blond. "Please. . ." He couldn't find the words to describe his request.
A hug, a kiss? What did one ask for in this situation?
"Your weight. I want to feel you. I want to know you're here."
He wasn't going to cry again., He didn't want to cry again, but he felt his eyes misting over with tears.
He blamed the drugs. They were making him needlessly emotional.
Alfred leaned down on him and kissed Ivan's temples. The American kissed his forehead and lips next, stopping at his eyes, kissing away the tears before they could be shed.
Alfred held to him and let him cry. He didn't slush Ivan, he didn't offer him comforting words, and he didn't try to make him stop no matter how much Ivan himself would give anything to stop crying, to stop looking so weak.
Alfred gave him much more than sweet nothings. He held Ivan tight, reminded the larger man that he was there fore him. He kissed Ivan and accepted him and didn't judge. He didn't try to stop Ivan from crying because he knew Ivan needed to cry, even though Alfred felt his heart breaking at the sight. He wanted to stop the tears, but knew they were part of a complicated healing. It was a bitter necessity like pulling a tooth.
Alfred combed through Ivan's tangled hair with his fingers. The larger man held Alfred tight, sobbing into gentle source of comfort.
~O~O~O~O~
It was hours later when Alfred walked through his front door. He had spent the entire day there, only leaving to get lunch and when visiting hours were over. After Ivan was fished crying Alfred was still trapped in the bigger man's arms. The two fell asleep like that, Ivan exhausted from the day before and Alfred lazy enough to pull off naps. They just chatted for the rest of the day after that.
Alfred strolled through the house, heading straight for the kitchen. The apartment seemed lonelier than usual. It was at times like these he wished his landlord would let him have a dog or a cat so he at least had someone to greet him when he was home.
The blond walked in a daze, unable to keep Ivan from his thoughts even as he cooked left over burgers he rationed from the day before.
Was he sleeping okay? Alfred didn't think he would.
Was he scared to be alone? Alfred would be.
Where would he go after the hospital let him out? How was he to pay for the hospital bills? Alfred didn't think he could.
The American prepared for bed in a slow, lethargic dash, stumbling like he had in the race only a week ago.
Had it really only been that long ago?
Alfred laid in his bed for what felt like hours, just staring at the ceiling, ideas and thoughts swarming through his mind like a hive of wasps. He turned on the T.V in a last ditch effort to drown out the thoughts and get some sleep. Tomorrow was work again. He had to be ready for work, right?
But the ideas wouldn't leave. Plans were made, dangerous, foolish plans that the American was too tired or honestly proud of to reject.
He turned over in his bed, ready for sleep at last.
~O~O~O~O~
It wasn't till halfway through Alfred's lunch break that the hospital called him, announcing Ivan well enough to be discharged. The American told Chell where he was going and jogged to his car, scarfing down a hamburger the whole way.
Time seemed to pass too fast, Alfred already in front of the hospital, parking, and heading to Ivan's room. Upon his arrival the Russian was more than happy, grinning like a happy cherub. He was back in his original clothes, scarf still wrapped around his neck.
"I was on my way out when Dr. Honda told be to wait for you, yes?" he stated, voice pleasant and childish again. Alfred smiled as he let go of the door handle. It was an immense relief to see Ivan acting like his normal self again. The burses were still there but less expressive, though they still stood out against his pale cheeks.
"Yeah, I was just talking with him about how you're doing. Is your head okay?" Alfred walked closer, reaching up to pat the Russian's silky, cleaned strands.
"Yes~ Dr. Honda is very good at helping people with head injuries. Unlike a certain American fool I know, yes?" Ivan chirped, tone playful. At the comment Alfred bristled. That was a low blow.
"Hey! At least I didn't just leave you to die! I did too help you!" Alfred shouted, rearing back, crossing his arms and pouting like an upset teen.
Ivan laughed. He hadn't laughed so hard since before the. . .incident.
"Forgive me, Sunflower, I did not mean to upset you~ yes?" He reached over and tugged at Alfred's cheek like an over-affectionate aunt. Alfred punched the hand away, fighting back a fit of giggles as Ivan's hand moved instead to tickle him.
"Stop it! Don't call me sissy things like Sunflower! We have - no not there, you cheater - important things to - I said stop - to talk about!" Alfred managed to bark out between giggles.
"Oh? Important things? What are they? You can tell Ivan, yes! He can keep secrets!" Ivan assured, taking his hands away from his American boyfriend's side and hips. Alfred gave him a deadpan look, extremely confused with why Ivan was acting so down right squirrelly. He reasoned it was because he was at last freed from the evil hospital.
"Yeah, well, lets talk about it after lunch. Oh, and I need to take you to my cousin's house! He can fix your scarf!" replied Alfred as he walked out of the room, heading for the elevator.
Alfred hadn't taken a second breath before Ivan jumped him, wrapping long, crushing arms around his torso, literally squeezing the life out of him. The blond thought he was being attacked before he felt Ivan nuzzling his face and large nose against the back of his neck.
Ivan was giving him a bear hug.
An affectionate smile found itself on the American's lips, but soon they were turning purple so he slapped Ivan's arm to let him go. The big man got the idea, releasing his lover.
Alfred panted and gasped for breath but smiled up at Ivan, the lavender eyed man looking so tender. Alfred leaned up for a kiss, which Ivan accepted and continued.
There was an "Ehhem!" behind them, a mother glaring at the pair, a small child behind her legs, hiding his face but trying to gawk at the men at the same time. The woman tapped her foot.
"Heh, sorry Ma'am," Alfred apologized, tugging Ivan along. "Hope who ever you're here for gets well soon."
Ivan smirked as his boyfriend pulled him along, hearing the woman mutter in a dejected whisper "Teens and their hormones."
The mighty Russian giggled. Alfred was at least in his mid twenties and Ivan was. . .well, Ivan was older. He'd go with that for now. Perhaps he'd tell Alfred when the blond asked.
Before long they were in Alfred's nasty car and speeding to said American's cousin's house. Although happy his scarf was going to be resurrected, Ivan was not pleased with the dirty car. It was disgusting. He'd have to clean it before he ever stepped foot in it again.
"So what was it you wanted to talk about?" Ivan inquired, trying not to focus on the grime of the car. Little Happy Meal toys cried out from under his feet.
"Oh well. . .I kinda wanted to wait until after the scarf was fixed but I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me?"
AN: I hope this chapter brought some closure to your guys.
Man, I don't wanna have Kiku operate on me - he's too jumpy.
"Hey, sup Kiku!"
STAB - YANK - GUT
"Oh God! What have you done?"
Heh, actually that's how an operation went for me when I was getting a pre-cancer removed from my face. . .hmmm. . .
Aww, Alfred has a teddy bear that hugs back!
So, originally this chapter was going to be WAY longer but it's been a while since I've updated so I decided just to post what I have so far and spared out what I have planned between a few chapters. The next segment should take 2 - 3 chapters, and the end is another 2 -3 chapters. I've officially graduated (takes a bow) so the chapters will update a little more regularly since I don't have anything else to do but finish a couple of games that have been nagging me since Christmas (shakes fist at Uncharted and Infamous). Oh, speaking of games, I can totally see Alfred playing Infamous and of course being a hero. Its awesome, people just fall to your feet in admiration XD Definitely an Alfred game.
Lets just pretend that's how hospitals and police officers work, yes?