AN: I wrote this largely while listening to 'Bratja' from Full Metal Alchemist, which is a bit ironic because it's Russian. Anyway, if you want to, I suggest going to youtube and looking it up while reading this. It's a beautiful song, and the lyrics (if you look them up) fit this very nicely. I think it's a conspiracy that I rediscovered it just as I was struggling to write this...I'm watching you, Russia.
The nurse hadn't been joking when she said that Alfred wasn't a pretty sight. He was pale and sickly-looking, an IV needle stuck in his right arm and a plethora of machines attached to him that had no discernible use to the untrained eye, aside from the diminutive heart monitor barely audible somewhere in the background. His usual glad countenance was replaced by one of fatigue and-perhaps worst of all-a large white bandage had been tightly wrapped around his head so that his left eye was hidden from view. If most people hadn't been told previously that this was Alfred Jones, they would have looked at you with an expression of disbelief at least; and even if they had been, they would have found it difficult to believe.
But Matthew was, after all, his brother.
"Alfred?..." he whispered so quietly that even he could barely hear.
"My son..." Hurit said as she walked over to his side and placed a glove hand on his face.
"Anna?..." Alfred asked reluctantly.
"Yes Alfred, it's me. Your mother." She said.
"M…Mom?"
"Do you remember me?" she asked, unfazed as she removed her hand. Alfred looked down at his hands, which sat limply on the bed.
"Of course. How could I forget the person I hurt more than any other…" he said.
"Alfred, don't say that." Hurit replied.
"But it's true!" he said, the heart monitor that had previously been ticking in the background speeding up considerably. As calm as ever, Hurit placed a hand on the crown of her elder son's head.
"Maybe so. But Alfred, you have to realize something: I forgave you long ago. My son, it is yourself you must forgive." She stated. "Besides, you're not the only one that's hurt those you love…" she added morosely.
"Mom," Alfred said. "Mom, where have you been? Do you know the things I've done, the lives I've destroyed, the sins I've committed?" he asked almost angrily. She regarded this information as coolly as ever and calmly replied.
"My son, Alfred, surely I taught you in the beginning that people like us are bound to cause pain and destruction and strife. I said that we'd do unforgivable things, horrible things. It's a fate we are all doomed to, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. Not you, not me, not your brother, or your past caretakers and allies…We are all shackled to the same fate." She paused. "But…It isn't all bad. In the path of destruction we carve out for ourselves, we meet others that are akin to us. They understand our plight, our pain, and our difficulties. We grow close to them, laugh with them, fight with them, and one day find that we have grown to love them. Perhaps someday they will be abruptly taken from us, or us from them, and there is nothing that can be done about that." She said. Alfred clenched the sheets in his palms.
"But…Alfred, you must live on in their memory. Even as they fade from history's pages and others forget, we must always keep their memory alive. Even so, we must move on at the same time. You must not allow the past to weigh you down, for nothing can be done about it but lamenting, and in the end, that gets you nowhere. I am one of the only original settlers that crossed Beringia all those years ago left…It is difficult, knowing that so many of my relatives, my comrades, even my enemies are long gone. But I must live one…For them, for my sons…" she said.
"But mom!" Alfred finally interjected. "Mom…Don't you remember? All the pain and misery I put you through? How I betrayed you, my own mother, for a near-stranger, and then abandoned him in turn? All the awful things I've done, to you, and Matthew, and Arthur, and…" he fell silent. "And Gilbert..." he finally said. His mother sighed concernedly, and then turned to Matthew.
"Matthew, my younger son." She said softly.
"Yes?..." he responded, once again feeling as though the fourth wall had been broken by his acknowledgement.
"Have you forgiven your brother of his misdeeds against you?" she asked.
"Well, it's not always easy, but he's my brother…Of course I have." He said sheepishly. "And it's not like I haven't done things that I regret…" he added.
"Alfred, I've spoken to Arthur recently, and I know for a fact that he's honestly forgiven you. If your brother and Arthur can find it in their hearts to forgive you, then why can you not forgive yourself?" she asked.
"Because!..." Alfred continued, trying to find something to back up his statement. "Because…I can't! Especially not after…After seeing the state Ludwig was in." he said.
"The man that shot you?" Hurit asked in disgust. "What does he have to do with it?"
"Mom…I…Do you remember a man by the name of Gilbert Beilschmidt?"
"Vaguely…" she replied.
"You know how they say he committed suicide? That's a lie. Mom…I killed him. I shot him in the chest and he bled to death right before my eyes. Arthur, Ivan, and Francis were there, but…I killed him. We framed it to look like a suicide. Ludwig is his younger brother, and he found out I killed him. So…He tried to shoot Matthew so I could understand what it was like to lose a brother. But I pushed Matthew out of the way, and…Here we are." Alfred confessed. Hurit, eyes wide, turned to her younger son for confirmation, and Matthew, looking away sadly, slowly nodded his head in agreement.
"Alfred…Why?" she asked, subtly horrified.
"I…I thought it would make me stronger. That, if I did what the others used to do…Then I'd get as stronger. Maybe even stronger. That's what I hoped, anyway…" he smirked sarcastically. "My plan hasn't exactly worked out, obviously." He said, looking his mother in the eyes. "Are you ashamed of me now, like you should be?"
She paused for a good moment, thinking her words over carefully. Finally, she spoke:
"No. No, my son, I am not ashamed of you." She said as she hugged him securely, just barely restraining herself from catching him in an unintentional death grip due to his condition. "Extremely disappointed, but not ashamed. Alfred, you've done a lot of bad things, but you're my son. I'll always love you, no matter what. And your story proves that you are capable of good."
"How?..." Alfred asked, honestly confused.
"You risked your own life to save that of your brother. Personal sacrifice is the strongest manifestation of love."
"He's my brother, I care about him. Besides, anyone would have done it…"
"I beg to differ. There are many in this world that would have saved their own skins first." She said, turning to smile at her younger son and motioning for him to come closer. "Without you, your brother probably wouldn't be here."
"So? Mom, don't say I'm a hero."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you did save him." Hurit replied.
"Mom…Why?...Why did you come? Why do you still bother with me?" Alfred asked, utterly confused.
"Because I love you, my son." She said. Finally, Alfred hugged his mother back, albeit rather weakly. "I always have and I always will."
"Alfred…" Matthew finally said. Both mother and elder brother turned to look at him. "You're my brother. I know you're not a bad person deep down…But thank you. Thank you for saving me. When Ludwig pointed that pistol to my head…I just kind of gave up. I was sure I was going to die. Thank you…"
"Don't thank me." Alfred said. "You're my bro. That's what bros do." He said, almost smiling. Matthew smiled back. Just as he was about to reply, the door opened, and a man in his middle ages with a full length doctor's coat looked in.
"Are you Mr. Jones' family?" he asked reservedly.
"Yes…" Hurit answered.
"May I speak with both of you privately?..." he replied. Matthew and Hurit looked at Alfred, and then exchanged glances before reluctantly following the doctor out into the hall before he closed the door behind them.
Just as soon as something even remotely positive happens, some previously unmentioned character has to come along and dash all of that away. Yup yup. It's a rule in this story, dearies. Anyway, almost done!