Guess how many days of school I've had? Almost 1! And now I'm one of the lucky ones with power, and no flooded basement...or house. "Worst flood in area history" is what the papers read. YAY IMMA ON A HILL! /shot...and I didn't even get to go to english, who's project was the reason I couldn't update lately. I wanna go back to school...


He opened his eyes sluggishly, the light around him blinding, the world still the same blinding white. Or…maybe not.

He opened his eyes and without turning his head or moving his body, looked around the room, scanning the walls, the ceiling, the clear doorway.

There was a vase of flowers over by the door, a mixture of flowers, none he could recall at the moment. Above the flowers was a painting, one of horses, some running across fields of green, others drinking from a blue river. A pretty painting, and one that confused him on exactly where he was.

The room was a beige, and there were papers, on tables and attached to the wall, but of what they said, he couldn't tell, the world vaguely blurry.

He then noticed blankets on some chairs, along with wrappers, cups and trays over in the corner, and a duffel bag on the floor. His stomach gave a little rumble, one of the first in weeks, and he couldn't help but think of food.

As his brain began to kick back on, he realized he was laying on a soft bed, covers over him, warm and welcome, his body only clad in a hospital gown, his wrists banded with armbands and an IV in his forearm. Had something gone wrong, and the Labcoat man had taken him here to see that he got well? Did they know that he wasn't really a mental patient? And who did the bag belong to, was the clone here?

Alfred didn't register any fear, just an interest in how they might finally kill him. He'd been waiting for the shot to the head, had been starving himself for quite some time. He'd long ago given up on living. Could he even speak anymore? He didn't remember the last time he'd thought this clearly…had they fed him finally, forcibly, to put him through more emotional pain than he could handle?

Of course, that was what the IV was for. Maybe, if he was strong enough, he could get away. Now, to get the IV out, and get down the hall…

He heard voices coming down the hallway as he began to tug weakly at the tube in his arm, and he closed his eyes quickly, assuming the position he'd been in a moment ago.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Alfred reluctantly closed his eyes all the way.

"Poor fella, looks like a stick. Wonder what they fed him." It was a young female voice. Not any of the nurses at the mental institute, and Alfred missed Ruth's soft, soothing tones that had reached him in that hell when no one else's could.

"Heard he's top secret, only those two men can see him. Finally convinced those two to go and eat lunch in the cafeteria. They won't stay away long. They're always in here, just watching him, waiting for him to wake up." Two men?

"Did you see one of them? Looked just like him! Of course, healthier, but they could be identical twins almost!" The clone…he was here, or currently at lunch. Alfred needed to get out of here, and fast. If he had any chance, he needed to get out, warn the others.

The two women did whatever they needed to do, cleaning up the room, one taking his wrist briefly, getting his pulse, and then left him alone once more. Perfect. He opened his eyes, and then struggled once more to pull the tube painfully, slowly, and weakly, out of his arm.

He slid off the bed in a tangle of covers, and landed painfully on the floor, more movement than he'd done in three weeks, his body protesting, but still capable of doing more than any human could possibly do in this situation. He groaned silently at the jarring of his bones, his knees sharply protesting.

He stared at the tiled floor, his breath coming out in gasps, the feeling of the IV fluid's loss making the cold begin to creep into his limbs again. That had been nutrition. He'd been out a couple days by how much shape his arms and legs had regained, and now he realized that he'd been dehydrated, and now with the loss of the water supply, who knew what would happen to his body. Shock, fainting?

He gripped onto the nightstand, and pulled himself up, his legs not able to really take his weight. It had surprised him that no alarm had gone off when he had gotten out of his bed. Maybe it had been turned off, seeing as he'd been pretty much comatose.

He peeked out the window of his room, and saw a pair of nurses walk past him, causing him to duck down, before pushing out the door once they'd turned the corner, before falling back inside at the sound of footsteps once more from the other directions. Alfred briefly contemplated trying to make it back to the bed when he heard a muffled voice.

"Do you think he's woken up yet?" They were back for him! Only one way to make it out this time.

He threw himself sloppily onto his bed, struggling, pulling, straining back under the covers, and feigning sleep. He was surprised at how much his body had healed in the days he must have been out. And if they took him back to that vile institution, all he worked for would be pointless.

Alfred had to get out, if only to warn the others. To protect them. Them and…Arthur. He'd thought a lot about Arthur as he lay there in the bed drifting between dreams and the real world. He wasn't really sure if this was a dream either, but he wasn't going to take a chance. After all, he'd already experienced a considerable amount of pain falling out of bed.

What if this was all a dream, and he was laying next to Arthur, in bed, asleep? What if all the pain, the lies, the starvation, the desperation, the fact that Arthur had kissed the imposter, thinking it was him, having no idea that he'd been stolen away, had all been the creation of his mind?

He snapped back to the present reality as the door opened, and two sets of footsteps entered the room. If Alfred wasn't so hyped up on adrenaline, he wouldn't of had the energy to move from the bed at this point, his hands now beginning to shake with fatigue. But this had to be done.

One of the footsteps made its way to the side of his bed, he peaked open one eye. He saw the set of legs, and now waited for the right moment.

A hand caressed his face. Not cruel, not unkind, but gentle, almost mocking him with it. What did these men think they were up to? Were they trying to trick him into opening his eyes? Were they…making advances on him?

"Oh, Matthew, it's all my fault." Alfred's guard slipped for a second, his eyes flickering. That voice…it couldn't be…no…

"Arthur, you couldn't have known. I should have noticed there was a change in our connection. I should have felt Alfred's feelings, but with everything at work, I pushed them aside as my own feelings. I should have noticed them heading down directions I wasn't experiencing." Mattie's quiet voice echoed from the bottom of the bed, and Alfred felt hope rise in his chest, but tried to smother it. But it couldn't be a trick!

They didn't know about his connection with Mattie, how they could feel each other's feelings if they were to a certain degree, seeing as the clone would have been found out immediately if Mattie had been checking for it, and would have noticed a deadness in feeling. The sharing of feelings had always been awkward when one of them had gotten laid…more for Mattie at first than Alfred until Mattie had gotten a Prussian boyfriend. Then Alfred had had no idea what he was feeling, and the two had a very awkward phone conversation later that week.

Shaking the disturbing thought away, he finally allowed himself to believe that maybe, the hand on his cheek, was Arthur's.

"His IV's out of his arm!" There was a quick set of steps, and the sound of cracking joints as someone bent down. "And the covers are half off the bed…what if someone came in and…" Arthur sounded panicked, but Alfred was just happy to be in the same room as him.

"We should…Alfred?" Alfred had opened his eyes, not being able to take it any longer. He was met with green, Arthur looking directly at him. A small smile painted Alfred's face, and Arthur's tired, worried face transformed in relief. Arms were around his shoulders before he could blink, causing him to tense at human contact, but the scent of tea and fresh rain hit his nostrils, and he relaxed, not able to stop a tear from running down his face. He looked over a green sweater-vested shoulder to his brother still standing at the end of the bed, his long, curly blond hair not able to hide his expression of relief as well, and Alfred gave him a nod.

Alfred soon was reconnected to the IV, after weakly using his hands to demonstrate the fact, rather sheepishly, that he'd pulled it out himself. He ended up with a light bruise on each knee, and a rather scolding, mother hen Arthur, but he was content, even eating a little ground up hamburger, to the amusement of the other two men.

The clone, according to Arthur when Matthew was out one afternoon for a shower and a change of clothes, had tried to run off the premises, abandoning his boss who was now in federal detainment, awaiting trial. The clone, however, had been gunned down, a mocking smile forever on his face. Alfred took this all in quietly, something that was bothering Arthur to no end, but as Alfred gestured with his hands for a pad and pen, he still didn't mention it.

Ruth. That was what Alfred wrote.

"She was in to visit you yesterday. She'll stop by after her next job interview. I don't think she'll have any troubles, considering she has a letter of recommendation from your boss."

I love you. I'm sorry.

"There is nothing to be sorry about." With a teary eyed smile, Arthur kissed Alfred, taking the thin, pale face in his hands. "I…I love you too, you git."

It was going to be a long recovery, but they'd be together for it.


Is this chapter bad? I thought it was...and there will be 1 little omake...hopefully...oh god, the water in the tap has gone brown...

Fun Fact: Smallpox and measles used to be horrible plagues in the time of the Roman empire. They killed Millions.