Author's Note: I have to stop making a habit out of waiting four weeks to update, but that's mostly due to the fact that I've stumbled upon a really busy phase in my life. From typing up essays for scholarship opportunities to protesting against issues in the criminal justice system, my head has been spinning with a blizzard of thoughts. It's been great fodder for writing though, so I'm extremely excited to finally have the chance to update. Please enjoy the chapter and leave a review!
"You're barmy."
"Shh! I don't want your British insults in the video!"
"If you'd put down that camera and enjoy the actual show—"
"I am enjoying the show, and, if I record it, I can enjoy it a million times throughout the future," Alfred reasoned, jostling his way through a scattering of parents in order to get a better view of the stage situated in the auditorium.
Arthur heaved a painstaking sigh and flipped through the program of acts, pretending to ignore his insufferable companion. It was horrible enough enduring the shrill cacophony of passionate appraisals that the adults were exchanging amongst themselves without Alfred's need to catch every moment of the experience.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you not to stand in the aisle."
Unable to suppress a satisfied smirk, Arthur glanced at the teacher who chided Alfred, observing as his nephew sullenly lowered his camera and meandered back over to his seat.
"I told you so."
Alfred found himself stuck between glaring and sulking. "Whatever… This is what the bureaucracy has done to our school system—telling me where to stand—unbelievable! What happened to the freedom we once had in this country?"
"You're no better than a child who can't sit still in their seat," Arthur said, adjusting his tie.
"Sorry, Mom. I guess I won't be having dessert tonight."
"You're already on the verge of diabetes as is."
Alfred chuckled and shrugged his shoulders happily. "We're all sick with something, right?"
"Mmm… That's the best defense you can come up with?"
"I thought it was pretty good," Alfred countered, turning off his camera momentarily to conserve the battery. He skimmed the crowds of families in anticipation as the seemingly never-ending and agonizing intermission carried on. "Hey, is that Ludwig?"
Arthur creased his brow and sat up in the foldable chair, craning his neck for a better look. "Ludwig Beilschmidt? Where?"
"In the fourth row."
The two men shared a quizzical expression and glued themselves back to their seats after they had picked out the dandelion-yellow mop of hair. An inexplicable feeling of discomfort came over them, as it always did whenever they spotted a co-worker outside of the hospital. Everything about Ludwig's demeanor and title suggested that he was far above something as menial as an elementary school talent show. From his broad shoulders to his steely eyes, the Chief of Emergency Medicine had never appeared so detached from his domain.
"Should we go up and greet him?" Alfred suggested rather hesitantly. "Or we could always wait for him to come to us?"
Arthur snuck a glimpse at his watch and muttered, "We'll approach him after the show if possible. It would be rude to ignore him."
"I don't mind being rude if it'll spare me from a socially awkward scene."
"Uncultured American…"
"Hey!"
His retort would be lost on deaf ears because the intermission finally came to its demise. The chatter in the room began to simmer and settle like a frying pan being taken off its burner, and Alfred readied his camera once more. The man nearly sprang up in excitement upon hearing that Zoey's class would be the next to perform, but Arthur gripped his arm and kept him stagnant.
"We proudly present our third grade class, who will be performing a rendition of Fleetwood Mac's 'Landslide'."
Now unrestrainable, Alfred jumped to his feet and focused the lens of his camera with a concentrated gaze. When he locked eyes with Zoey during the class' procession onto the stage, he couldn't help but give her a silly grin and a little wave. Naturally, she flushed in response and took a moment to recover from her flustered state by lowering her gaze to her shiny shoes.
After a few seconds of preparation, the class began to sing in unison:
"I took my love and took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Till the landslide brought me down."
The shuffling of her feet and the nervous wandering of her eyes—it all brought the memory of Matthew back to the forefront of Alfred's mind, and he tried to drown out the associations. Every part of Zoey remained identical to the parts of her father, and the ache in Alfred's heart refused to be cast away.
"Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older too."
"No, don't ever get older," he thought, conjuring up a wistful smile upon seeing Zoey's sheepish stance among her classmates. She situated herself directly beside Michelle, turning to her every few seconds to soothe her anxiety with the help of a familiar face.
She'd seen so much pain—so much hate. He wondered if it was too late to change that.
When the room had burst with applause, he lowered the camera to his side and felt his heart stutter with uncertainty for the decisions he'd made years ago.
"Alfred?"
He lowered himself to his chair with solemn eyes and a cluttered mind. "That was really great, wasn't it?"
Arthur pursed his lips and prepped himself to speak up, but ultimately settled for a nod instead. Neither man said a word until the next class had taken the stage, upon which point they were stunned into silence once more.
There was a momentary altercation with one of the children as he argued with his teacher, arms folded across his chest and feet planted firmly on the ground in a show of defiance.
"NO! I don't want to stand behind Tommy! I can't see anything from here!"
To make matters even more unusual, Ludwig had risen from his seat and approached the stage with a sharp tone and very stern expression, flailing a finger at the boy in fury.
"Get back to your spot this second! Jetzt! Right now!"
Though his tenacity hadn't been completely stomped out just yet, the boy flourished a despondent glower and returned to his delegated position without further argument. A little embarrassed and fearful, he made it a point to look as miserable as possible throughout the remainder of the performance and dashed off the stage as soon as music had come to a stop.
"What was that all about?" Alfred gawked, rather disappointed that he hadn't managed to record the scuffle. A round of scattered applause muffled his surprised exclamations, and after a brief speech from the school's principal, the show was brought to a close. "I didn't know Ludwig had a kid."
"Alfred!" Zoey called as she ran toward the pair and embraced both men in a loose hug. "Was I good?"
"Good? You were amazing! Right, Arthur?"
Arthur seemed to be caught off guard and was shaken out of his thoughts, eyes slightly wider than normal. "Yes, of course. That was a wonderful performance."
Zoey smiled bashfully and clutched Alfred's arm as she continued to recount the show with considerable animation. "Yeah, I think my class was the best! Did you see Gilbert get in trouble with his teacher? He does things like that all the time."
"You're familiar with that boy?" Arthur inquired with increasing curiosity as they abandoned their seats and made way for the exit. The din of the auditorium was becoming far too suffocating.
"Yeah, we're friends! He's in the fourth grade, though."
Suppressing an immense groan, Arthur merely laid a hand on Zoey's shoulder. "You have to nip the habit of making friends with my colleagues' children."
"It's happened before?" Alfred suddenly questioned with an affronted tone. How had he been left unawares?
"Michelle's father is Francis Bonnefoy, and we were acquaintances in college, though I'd rather not discuss that at the moment. What's more pertinent, I think, is the fact that your niece is now friends with Ludwig's child."
"My niece? She's your niece too! And what's so wrong with that? I think it's pretty funny," Alfred retorted, treating the situation with a whimsical amusement. "Just because you don't understand the value of friends—"
Arthur hastily interjected the accusation, emerald eyes flaring up with disbelief. "I never suggested such a thing!"
Rolling his eyes and wrapping an arm around Zoey's waist, Alfred perused the crowd with great care for a minute. "Hey, Ludwig!"
It took the other a few seconds to respond, finally recognizing that someone had blurted out his name. When he locked gazes with the perpetrator, he shuffled forward with two children in tow. One of the boys was the child who had caused all of the commotion previously—Gilbert, Zoey had said—and the other was a slight youngster with dark pewter hair.
"Crazy running into you here, huh?" Alfred initiated, shifting his eyes after some thought to greet the boys with a welcoming grin.
Rattled and more than a tad nonplussed, Ludwig extended a worn hand to Alfred and then Arthur. "Yes, it's a small world." He seemed to struggle to find a way to explain himself, and eventually settled on introducing the boys. "This is Gilbert and Roderich… They are well-versed in causing discord."
Alfred laughed in his customary conversational way and guided Zoey to stand before him with her slumped stature and all, a strand of hair obscuring one side of her nervous smile. "This is Zoey. I've heard that her and Gilbert are pretty good friends nowadays."
"Oh, so this is that Zoey," Ludwig murmured with understanding, casting a half-smirk at Gilbert as though he had decoded a cipher. He gave Zoey a thorough look-over, roving over her polka dot dress and bright eyes before managing an awkward grin. "You were right, Gil, she's very pretty."
Gilbert jolted in place and directed a malicious glare at the elder. It was hard for him to be intimidating when his cheeks burned scarlet. "Stop it! Your jokes are never funny!"
Ludwig abstained from voicing any more teasing remarks and settled for ruffling Gilbert's pale hair to appease his whims. "Unfortunately, we can't stay long, but it was good to see you both. It was a pleasure to meet Zoey as well. Have a good night."
The two trios exchanged goodbyes and retreated in opposite directions. When they had left the school and were well out of the earshot of any other parents or students, Alfred made it his duty to address a new issue at hand.
"So, this friend of yours, Gilbert… Do you talk to him a lot?" he prodded as he took Zoey's hand in his own and swung their arms back and forth elatedly. "You know I don't approve of you talking with older men."
Zoey sucked in a big breath and threw her head to one side. "He's only a year older, and he acts like he's younger than me. Sometimes he's annoying too."
Alfred and Arthur had a silent little exchange through their eyes, and Zoey must have immediately realized there was information being withheld from her, considering the way she scrunched her nose in irritation. "What is it?"
"Nothing, sweetheart. I'm just really happy that you've made friends. You've always been on the quiet side."
Zoey considered this for a long moment and then muttered as an aside, "I have a lot to say now."
The first time Alfred and Arthur got into a serious argument, everyone was stunned, including the belligerents themselves. For Zoey, it was impossibly difficult for her to fathom that arguing was oftentimes a sign of caring and almost a necessity of a healthy friendship. All she understood was hatred, and who could've blamed her?
"This was supposed to be a temporary thing—just until I could find my own place," Alfred reminded, one hand wrapped in his hair while the other made sporadic gestures. They had been getting ready for work when Arthur requested for Alfred to do the dishes, and, if there was anything that infuriated Alfred, it was being treated as inferior.
Cleaning the dishes wasn't the issue, because Alfred would have gladly done so, but it had more to do with the way he'd been approached.
From what Zoey could gather, Arthur had scolded Alfred for not doing enough around the house. Alfred quickly grew defensive; he'd been taking advantage of every opportunity to give the elder a helping hand, and his efforts had clearly not been appreciated. Everything had escalated from there.
When they had retreated into the living room, Zoey watched discreetly from the top of the stairs. Arthur was flipping through the newspaper he'd been reading during the entire exchange, barely sparing Alfred a glance. "I told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed."
"Well, I've found a pretty nice apartment in the city within my budget, so I'm ready to leave."
"Yes, I suppose you are," Arthur admitted, flicking his eyes over the morning headline, "but Zoey isn't."
Upon hearing her name, Zoey inched closer to the railing of the stairs, pressing her ear in between the bars.
"Don't get Zoey involved in this. She knew this wouldn't be permanent."
"She's already grown attached. You want to separate her now?"
"She'll manage just fine."
"Oh, yes," Arthur scoffed, throwing the newspaper aside. "I remember how thrilled she was at your last residence."
"That was different, and you know it."
"No, I don't know. The last thing she needs is to change homes again."
The sizzling fury in Alfred's eyes spoke a thousand words, and when he picked up his messenger bag for work, no one dared to stand in his way. "Don't pretend like you know what's best for her! You barely even know Zoey! I've been with her since the day she was born. I held her in my arms when she was a baby. I was there for her because who else did she have? You weren't there to take her under your wing. You didn't even know she existed until two months ago, so why don't you keep your parenting skills to yourself and stop being such a god damned bastard?"
After releasing steam for a couple of more seconds, he grabbed his things and stormed out the front door, leaving a grim silence behind.
When Arthur didn't budge from his spot, Zoey jogged down the stairs and let her presence be known.
"Uncle Arthur?" she asked with a timid murmur, hands tucked behind her back as she tried to make sense of the severe expression on his face. To be safe, she kept a distance between them lest the man chose to direct his anger toward her instead.
Blinking away a dumbfounded frown, Arthur stood to his full height and began to gather his things as well. "Come, I'll take you to school."
"What about Alfred?"
The corner of his mouth twitched in a mixture of annoyance and concern. "He'll be fine on his own... I shouldn't have lost my temper with him. It's been a trying week at work."
"I think he'll forgive you," Zoey soothed, following the man to the car and clambering into the backseat. "He forgives me whenever I say something mean to him."
Arthur succeeded in assembling a strained smile. "This might be a tad more difficult, dear."
"Why?"
"When you're older, you'll understand."
Zoey creased her forehead and crossed her arms, focusing her gaze on the window. "But I want to understand now!"
"So, do I," Arthur grumbled softly, tightening his grip around the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched. "I wish I understood as well."
When working in a hospital, there were certain things that one became aware of immediately. For example, the compact and close-knit bonds between most of the staff established a visible sense of community. This little family was an essential part of the unit, especially in the Emergency Room, where one could succumb to madness if they allowed themselves to be too invested in the restlessness of all of the patients and their visitors. Keeping calm claimed the highest priority on the floor, and a makeshift family usually managed to preserve that state of thought.
However, when Arthur arrived at work and was summoned to the Emergency Room to tend to a patient, he quickly noted the anticipation of everyone at the nurses' station. A member of the family was missing, and it made them incredibly uneasy. The nurses could handle wounds oozing with blood and mass hysteria, but they could not seem to cope with the prospect that someone in their clan had not called to inform them that they would be absent.
This was especially true when the matter concerned Alfred. Being the only male in their social circle, he was often the clown of the group and the lack of enthusiasm at the nurses' station made everyone dreary.
"He's still not here? Try calling him again. We can't risk having another shortage, and if he's not coming, then we need to get someone to work overtime," Elizabeta explained to the others, leaning over the counter as Iryna dialed Alfred's cellphone number once more.
In an attempt to remain uninvolved, Arthur tried to flee from the scene before anyone noticed, but Elizabeta had the eyesight of a vulture.
"Arthur? Where are you in such a hurry to?"
"I'm—there's a patient I have to see." he corrected, doing his best to remain nonchalant.
"Why didn't Alfred come to work with you today?"
He pursed his lips and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white coat, uncharacteristically flustered. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you."
"What—"
The question was left incomplete as one patient suddenly hobbled over to the nurses' station on crutches, one hand rubbing the cast on his leg. "Hey, doc? My leg's hurtin' real bad, and I know the smarting is to be expected, but I could use some meds."
Arthur regained his composure instantly and pulled up a rolling stool. The conversation could wait. "Here, have a seat."
The injured man plopped down with a relieved sigh and a wince before his hand continued to rub circles around the cast. "Thanks a lot."
Crouching down to get a better look at the bothersome leg, Arthur tested the space between the skin and the cast, frowning at the abnormal amount of swelling surrounding the injury. "It's compartment syndrome—whoever gave you this cast made it much too tight. It'll have to be replaced. Elizabeta, call Ludwig and make sure this man is given attention before numbness starts setting in."
Elizabeta made the phone call without skipping a beat, at which point Arthur took advantage of the opportune escape route and continued his rounds without facing further interrogation.
Unfortunately, much to his displeasure, he ran into Alfred bounding down the corridor not a minute later. The young man was sweating, pinpricks of perspiration lining his forehead as though he had sprinted to work. Aside from the reddened cheeks and labored breaths, his scrubs were wrinkled and skewed to one side, tangling with his stethoscope.
Unable to let bygones be bygones just yet, Arthur sneered, "How was your ride on the ferry?"
"Shut up. I took the ferry and three buses to get here," Alfred groused with the hint of a childish whine. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."
Arthur smirked and shook his head in disbelief. "Since you're fashionably late, I suppose you wouldn't mind transporting a patient with me. We're going up to the ICU."
"Fine, but this doesn't mean I'm not angry with you anymore."
"Of course not."
Pointed efforts were made by both men to avoid one another during the entire process. Though they made small talk with the patient being moved, neither made unnecessary eye contact. All in all, only the shadows of themselves communicated throughout the exchange, and by the time they returned to the elevator to go back to the Emergency Room, the heavy-handed silence marred with meaningless hurt was intolerable.
The doors closed behind them as Arthur selected the designated floor, but the cart failed to move for a long moment.
And, as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside of Alfred, panic began to swell in his stomach, and he gripped the railing behind him with quivering hands. "Press the button to open the doors."
"Oh, blast it. This elevator tends to be quite slow." Arthur replied a bit peevishly.
"Arthur, open the doors!"
Finally deciding to meet the other's eyes and acknowledge his existence, Arthur scrambled his thoughts together to make sense of the vast horror in Alfred's eyes. The younger man was nearly hyperventilating, battling to stay on his two feet as a wave of weakness circled through his muscles.
Slamming a button and holding it, Arthur sent the doors sliding open once more, revealing the main entrance to the ICU. At once, Alfred's breathing slowed, but he had fallen to his knees and could not find the will to move. Seconds later, he propped himself up by plastering one hand on the wall of the elevator, stumbling as his legs continued to remain in a state of near paralysis.
Some of the onlookers among the staff came toward them to help, holding the elevator doors open and inching forward to offer greater assistance, but Arthur intervened and shooed them away before they could get close enough.
"It's under control," he told them before crossing the length of the elevator to grasp Alfred's arm and get him back on his feet. "Come, Alfred. Let's find you some water."
They carefully made their way back out and into the hallway, where Alfred soon perched himself on a chair in the waiting area to collect himself. Some of the color returned to his face, and he didn't look quite so troubled any more.
Arthur then passed him a plastic cup of water from a nearby dispenser and sat beside him, straightening his white coat. "Care to tell me what that was about?"
Alfred chugged the water despite his better judgment and pressed a hand over his eyes. "I'm a little… claustrophobic."
"A little? I beg to differ," Arthur huffed, taking the now empty cup and tossing it into the trash. "I don't think you realize how serious this is. How long have you had this problem?"
Talking about the origin of his fears was often nauseating, but evading the question would've been futile. "Since the towers fell."
As expected, Arthur did not speak, but gave him a strange look instead, as though trying to read the hushed suffering in his eyes.
"You're not ready to leave."
A tremble assaulted Alfred's chin and he could feel a singeing sting in his eyes. "I know, but I'm beyond repair, Arthur, so you should just let me go."
"Try to stop being an idiot."
The helpless laugh that echoed from Alfred's mouth sent the hairs on Arthur's neck standing. "If it weren't for Zoey…"
"My God, Alfred. Stop."
"I would've just ended it, y'know? 'Cause what else have I got?"
"You have all of the individuals in this hospital who care about you, including me."
"Don't get sappy on me now."
"Close your gob and get up. We're taking the stairs," Arthur demanded, swinging into action and shoving Alfred roughly in the shoulder to get him to move. "Start walking. We have loads to do."
"Is this a bad time to apologize?"
"If you accept my apology, then I might find the heart to forgive you as well."
Alfred rolled his eyes and carefully made his way down the first flight of stairs. "What a saint. And yes, Arthur, your sins have been absolved."
"Aah-aaaa… Am I gonna die?"
"Nein, Gilbert. Keep still."
"But there were a bunch of kids throwing up and fainting! You should've seen it!"
Beside the boy, Zoey nodded her head in agreement and rocked back and forth on the hospital bed, swaying her legs as they hung over the edge. "Yeah, it was pretty scary! When our afterschool teacher found out there was a gas-leak, she started getting sick too."
Ludwig sighed as he continued to examine the children, checking them over for any difficulties in breathing or irritated patches of skin. The school had been evacuated as soon as the risk of gas exposure was announced, but all of the students had been brought to the hospital anyway for treatment. "Just be happy that you weren't vomiting, Gilbert."
Alfred and Arthur entered the room a moment later, setting further supplies with them on the counter. It had been a shock to everyone—getting an emergency call from school in the middle of the day stating that the students had to be picked up immediately. Nonetheless, they had made the best of the situation in order to reassure the children. No one had been severely injured, but Ludwig was starting to question whether that verdict would stand, considering the colossal amount of commentary that Gilbert was giving him.
Alfred rested a stethoscope on the boy's back and gave him a toothy grin. "Take a super-duper big breath, dude."
He complied mostly due to the fact that he loved the attention, and besides, he wouldn't risk making a scene while Zoey remained present. When he was done, Alfred patted his head encouragingly and gave him a high-five while Arthur and Ludwig tended to Zoey.
"You two are gonna be just fine," Alfred assured, watching with a dose of worry as Zoey released a string of harsh coughs. "Is everything okay, over there?"
Arthur furrowed as he shined an otoscope at the girl's throat. "She has a bit of dyspnea, Ludwig. Should we start her on bronchodilators or get a PFT done first?"
"Let's start with the bronchodilators and supplemental oxygen before it gets worse. We'll keep her under observation," the other physician recommended, checking the child's breathing himself to confirm Arthur's suspicions. "It seems like a case of acute exposure, after all."
Gilbert hovered around the other three as they spoke, unable to quench his anticipation. "Is Zoey gonna die?"
The trio of adults each chuckled in unison, and Ludwig scooped the nine-year-old up and placed him on the bed once more. "Sit still and be good or we'll keep you here overnight," he forewarned with a malicious smirk. Then, he left the room to help assist the other children on the unit, pausing at the privacy curtain to mutter, "Listen to Dr. Kirkland and Alfred until I return."
The two other men went about business as usual, retrieving the medication for Zoey and convincing her to wear the malleable mask on her face so that she could inhale the vapor.
"It's only for a few minutes, Zoey-bug, and then you'll be as good as new. You don't have to be scared," Alfred had reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead.
His heart always constricted whenever Zoey was unwell, no matter how severe the illness. The throbbing pulsation in his chest made itself known each time, despite being aware that she was in good hands. Thankfully, Gilbert eased the seriousness of the atmosphere by recounting some tall tale as Zoey laid on the bed, managing to get a few giggles out of her as Arthur and Alfred cleaned up the room.
"I arranged a meeting for you with Braginsky. He's a good doctor, and he said he'd be more than happy to talk with you," Arthur whispered as he tossed away some previously sterile packaging. "Your appointment is tomorrow morning at the clinic."
The information was bulky to digest, but Alfred still mustered the energy to be frustrated with the other. "Why didn't you talk to me first?"
"Because you wouldn't even have considered it. Listen, meet with him once and if he doesn't help, you don't have to schedule a follow-up."
"I don't need to see some psychiatrist. I'm not mentally ill."
Arthur grumbled something that sounded a lot like, 'incorrigible git' under his breath. "I'm not suggesting you are, but he does psychotherapy as well, so it's worth giving a try."
"—AND THEN THE ZOMBIES TOOK OVER THE PLANET!" Gilbert interjected with a booming voice, bringing the story he had been telling to a finish. He clapped his hands together in finality, awaiting Zoey's approval. "ISN'T THAT CRAZY?"
Casting the children a sideways glance filled with conflicting emotions, Alfred steeled himself for his response. He brawled with the difficulty of relinquishing control and passing over his trust onto another.
As he observed Zoey resting on the hospital bed, he realized that he'd never felt both so close and so far away from Matthew all at once.
"Okay, I'll test it out, but if Braginsky ends up traumatizing me for life, you're paying for all of my anti-anxiety meds."
"You won't be disappointed."
