What's in a Name
Chapter 12
Fire. There was fire. The flames enveloping his skin as he ran through them, desperately trying to find him. The scrap heap was completely ablaze, the stench of burning metal coursing through the air around it as black smoke towered into the sky.
Then he saw it, the one car that hadn't been set alight in the middle of the chaos. And under it was the person he had been searching desperately for.
Oh, please God, let him be alive!
His leg was hidden under the vehicle, making it almost impossible to move him at all. The flames were getting closer, now reeking of burning petrol and gas. This was getting too dangerous.
Crash!
A wrecked van fell from a nearby pile, its windows smashing and spewing smoke. Debris his hit shoulder, burning through his jacket. Another piece shot through the car's windscreen, landing on the driver's seat, which slowly began to catch fire.
No. No! Shit-!
Alfred started awake, his alarm clock blaring in his ear. He scrambled around for the button to shut off the noise before grabbing his glasses and pushing them onto the bridge of his nose, bringing his bedroom into focus.
He rubbed one hand over his forehead and through his hair in an attempt to rid himself of the cold sweat that had covered him during the night. A good hot shower was definitely needed.
The nightmares were getting worse.
"And that's how you do that!" Alfred threw the pen down onto the table in front of him, grinning down at Peter.
"You make it look so easy!" The younger boy pouted, staring back down at the page, the numbers Alfred had scrawled down standing out against the squared paper. "I never get it right first time."
"Math takes practice." Alfred stretched, leaning back against the sofa lazily. "S'always been my best subject."
"Then why do you study literature?" Peter picked up the pen, continuing with his homework.
Alfred considered the boy for a few seconds, choosing how to answer the question, "Dunno." He concluded. "It's what the family wanted me to do I guess." He scratched the back of his head, looking around to where England had perched himself on one of the kitchen stools, head buried in one of the plays Alfred had been researching. The older man seemed to sense Alfred's eyes on him and glanced up, letting green meet blue for a second before turning back to the book.
There was no need for anyone else to know why Alfred had really taken the subject. England had learned it from one of his outbursts when the stress had built up, but there was definitely no need to enlighten Peter on the topic. It was true that Alfred didn't care for the many works of the different playwrights and novelists, but Matthew had found them so interesting. He had loved them. He still did. But he wouldn't be able to carry out his ambition of going to college to finish studying the subject to a high degree after his high school exams. It was impossible now, with his leg permanently strapped up and supported by his crutches. He wouldn't be able to live away from home by himself. Not that their mother would ever allow it after what had happened.
"Al, I don't get this one." Peter's voice whined through Alfred's thoughts, bringing his attention back to the room around him.
"Huh? Oh yeah, right you do it like this." He took the pen from Peter, leaning down towards the coffee table. The page looked blurred, all the numbers melding together in their little squares. It took him a while just to read which question the pre-teen was having trouble with.
"Don't hound him so much Peter." England called out, looking up once more from the book, "Besides it's getting late; you should be going to bed."
"Ooh, but I'm still not finished." Peter moaned, trying to find an excuse for staying up later.
"It's after ten, now go on, hop it. Back downstairs." England folded his arms, showing that his word was final.
Peter looked around to Alfred for support, his eyes wide and pleading. "Your brother's right Pete. I'm getting pretty worn out too." He received a glare from the younger blonde, making him look even more like his older brother than ever, before he gathered up his school equipment and headed for the door.
"I'll be down in a bit." England shook his head, sighing at his brother's stubbornness. "Honestly, that boy."
Alfred laughed lightly, stretching his arms out in front of him, "He's like you, y'know."
"Shut up, git." The smaller man plopped down on the sofa next to the college student, reopening the book. "It's a waste, you know? Just chucking these to one side when you're done with them. They should be cherished."
Alfred yawned, glancing at the page England was reading. "I don't understand half the stuff that Shakespeare says, especially all that fairy junk."
"It's not junk, it's poetry!"
"Poetry that no one can understand."
"Oh hush." England leant back, resting his legs up on the coffee table, unconsciously touching his knee against Alfred's. "I don't understand how you can be majoring in literature and not enjoy a Midsummer Night's Dream. It's definitely one of his best plays."
Alfred laughed, leaning over to poke at one passage in the book,
"'Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone;
My queen and all her elves come here anon!'
Oh come on, all that fairy stuff doesn't make any sense, and there's no way I can take a character called Bottom seriously. It's stupid!"
"You need to start using that over-active imagination of yours for your studies." England prodded Alfred's forehead, finally discarding the book to one side.
"But fairies-"
"Yes, fairies." England interjected, his voice showing his apparent amusement at Alfred's complaints, "And I'm almost positive that they'd have better manners than you."
"Says the biker." The taller of the two returned the jab, his glasses slipping to one side.
"You really are impossible." England gave up, flopping to the side to rest his head on Alfred's shoulder in mock exhaustion.
"Famous for it." Alfred chuckled, looping his arm around England's shoulders absentmindedly, running his fingers through his shorter sandy hair.
It was one of those oddly content feelings running through Alfred's mind. Just the two of them their felt right. He didn't know why, but it just was. England was the only person who managed to give him that butterfly sensation in the pit of his stomach whenever the older man flashed one of his rare genuine smiles which lit up all of his features. Even his oversized eyebrows somehow seemed to look right on his face (even if they were hilarious to tease the stuffy man about).
England himself was feeling quite hot at the time. He was sure that his face was bright red from Alfred's contact and just preyed that the younger man hadn't noticed. It wasn't that he didn't like Alfred or anything, it was just slightly awkward. He refused to admit that he had intimate feelings for the student. That would be inappropriate given the situation. He was a member of a bike gang that was known to be dangerous. Yes, he hated being in the group, but that was meaningless now that he'd given his name in exchange for membership. And Alfred was a student who had already been put in harm's way enough times thanks to his own reckless behaviour and getting involved in situations where he should have just minded his own business.
Argh! This was ridiculous!
Alfred was looking at him now. He could feel those bright cerulean eyes burning into the side of his head and he couldn't help but meet them.
Neither really knew what had caused it, nor who had instigated it. All England knew was that one second his eyes had met Alfred's and the next he had felt his lids close as their lips had met. It was a light touch at first, neither one of them sure of what exactly they were doing. Alfred's hand gently travelled down England's side, finally resting around his waist where the other soon joined it, pulling the shorter man closer. England felt his own arms moving up and looping around Alfred's shoulders, finally deepening the contact between them. And by God could that boy kiss!
Of course it wasn't England's first kiss (the events that had taken place while he was in a drunken stupor were better left unmentioned), but this was the first one that actually felt like it had come kind of meaning to it. It actually had some emotion behind it, not just a hollow feeling that both tasted and stank of stale alcohol that he had had the misfortune of tasting in more than one of these unmentioned events.
Alfred's glasses were pushed uncomfortably high on the bridge of his nose, but he didn't care. He had kissed girls before, but they all had fake personalities trying to live up to an image that was plastered all over the covers of magazines and on the television. Back then he hadn't been bothered by this, but now that he was kissing England he knew what it felt like to actually enjoy a kiss. To actually really want to be kissing the other person and it was amazing.
England felt the nip on his lip as Alfred requested entrance, the heat of his mouth intensifying when he granted the request, the other's tongue immediately exploring every inch of his own mouth. The fight for dominance was lost when Alfred finally pushed England back on the sofa, taking positioning looking down on the smaller blonde, not breaking the kiss even for a second. That is until a phone started ringing.
"Fuck." England grumbled, moving his head away and pulling his mobile out of his pocket, reading the number on the display. "Sorry." He gave Alfred an apologetic look before moving to sit up, answering the call.
Alfred couldn't work out what had brought it on. He'd kissed England. Why? Why had he done that? Because you wanted to dammit!
He pushed the voice to the back of his head, although the nagging feeling he kept getting when it resurfaced started making more and more sense.
He shook it off, instead deciding to watch England's side of his phone call. The blonde was obviously irritated; anyone could have known that just by glancing at him. He had one hand to his forehead while the other held his phone (a little too firmly) to his ear, displacing his hair even more from its usual messy state. Even with his overly large eyebrows creased into a frown he looked kind of cute. (Dammit! Stop thinking like that!)
No. He couldn't very well deny it now. For pity's sake, he'd just kissed the man! And now he was trying to deny any feelings? Man, what am I doing to myself?
Besides, he didn't even know if England felt the same. The older man was hard enough to read. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking at the best of times and his mood could swing from high to low in the blink of an eye. Hell, he didn't even know the guy's real name! ...But he was just picking holes…
"Al?" England voice cut through his thoughts, green eyes focused back onto blue.
"Huh? What's wrong?" Alfred jumped, trying not to seem so tense.
"I need to get going." England sighed, glancing down at his mobile before looking back at Alfred. "That was Tino. There's been an emergency down at the surgery and they need all the help they can get."
"Oh. Oh right." Alfred stammered, not sure how to answer, "This late at night?"
The other nodded, frowning slightly. "He didn't tell me what had actually happened, just to get down there." He paused, his vision travelling between Alfred at the apartment door before standing up, closely followed by Alfred.
"England, I-"
"I really should get going, Al." England swivelled round, smiling lightly. "Can we talk later?"
"I was going to say that I could come with you and help." He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.
"Really?" England's smile remained on his lips but frowned slightly, showing his surprise at the younger man's comment. "Are you sure? I'm taking my bike."
"You're the one who said they needed help."
"Yes, but I didn't mean-"
"Oh come on! You can't deny a hero his duty!" Alfred pumped his fist into the air in mock enthusiasm.
"You really are a strange one." England elbowed him in the ribs, chuckling lightly, "Well if you must. I just need to let Peter know." He hesitated for a second or two before reaching up and pecking Alfred on the forehead quickly and then grabbing the door handle. "I'll meet you downstairs."
England exited the room quickly, willing his blush to disappear before he bumped into anyone by accident. Especially if that person was Francis. He'd never hear the end of it.
He opened the door to his own flat, peering around Peter's bedroom door to spot his little brother playing on one of his games consoles instead of getting ready for bed. After a short lecture from the older sibling, Peter finally grumbled his way into putting his pyjamas on.
"I'll be back in about an hour." England called, heading back towards the door. "Please be in bed by then."
He grabbed his helmet and closed the door behind him, making his way downstairs and knocking on Francis's door. The Frenchman answered with his hair dripping around his shoulders, wearing a dressing-gown and looking rather disgruntled.
"What is it? I was in the bath." His accent heavily framing his words.
"Keep an eye on Peter for me. Emergency at work." England quickly rattled off, leaving Francis little choice but to go along with what he wanted.
"Can't Alfred-"
"He's coming with me."
"But-"
"Can't you just do it Francis? I won't be all that long." He started fumbling with the helmet in his hands.
"Fine." Francis sighed, shaking his wet hair out of his face, "But this really is the last time."
"You can be a lifesaver when you want to be." England clapped the older man on the back and turned to leave.
"Don't do anything stupid." Francis shouted after him, before closing his door again. "It's going to be one of those evenings then…" He sighed to himself, picking up a discarded towel and running it over his head.
Alfred was already standing outside when England exited the apartment building. In the time since England had left his apartment he'd managed to acquire a helmet of his own, much to the biker's dismay.
Alfred seemed to notice the other's confusion and grinned in answer, "I did tell you that I've mucked around with my fair share of junk."
"So you're used to biking then?" England swung his leg over his bike, zipping up his jacket. He pulled his own helmet over his head and gripped the handlebars, kicking the starter.
"Not for a few years." Alfred hesitated in stepping toward the bike, lifting the headgear up to his face.
"Well get on then." England overlooked the younger man's behaviour, beckoning him to get on the bike behind him. "And hold on tight. I ride fast."
It was a sensation that Alfred knew and loved. The wind whipping up past his shoulders and roaring in his ears, moving his clothes so that they were flat against his skin and so that his jacket billowed out slightly behind him. The seat of the bike was hard and he gripped it tightly, feeling the cold rush over his knuckles and up his sleeve. He clamped his knees to the sides of the bike, trying to keep himself steady but not be off-putting for England as the older man swerved around corners at such a speed that the two of them didn't end up skidding off the vehicle and into some alley wall that the biker had decided to turn down.
England himself didn't seem at all phased by the speed at which he was driving. Even with Alfred clinging to the seat behind him he appeared to be relaxed as he chucked the bike around each bend. He stopped once, picking up a package which he stowed in the box on the back of the bike and then he was off again, still as poised as ever as the bike screeched through the maze of back alleys that he knew only too well.
"We're here." England's helmeted head turned to face Alfred, shutting off the bike's engine as he did so and propped it up on its stand.
"England!" Tino's voice rang out as the young doctor appeared at the entrance to the clinic. "Thank God! Did you get the stuff? Oh, Alfred came too? That's good. We could use the extra hands." He rushed his words before grabbing the package from England's hands and rushing back inside, expecting the other two to follow.
Inside Tino had apparently gone to join Berwald in treating their emergency patient, leaving England and Alfred to wait in the lobby for when they would be needed. It was a small building with a waiting room big enough for five seats in front of a desk where Elizabeta was slumped over, dozing lightly. There were three doors leading out of the room for the surgery's doctors, of which only Berwald's was currently occupied as it was the largest. One other man was also sitting in the lobby, his eyes directed at the door to the room that Tino had disappeared into. His brown hair stood up in one place similarly to Alfred's but curled slightly. England greeted him with a nod before taking the seat opposite, sliding his helmet underneath it.
"Gil's not here then?" England broke the silence in the room, noting that the other member of the delivery team was absent.
"Not as of yet." The man stated clearly, not moving his gaze from Berwald's office door.
"Any idea where he is?" England looked over his shoulder, beckoning Alfred to sit down.
"Guess." Elizabeta raised her head off the desk, glaring over at England. "Where do you think he is?"
"Oh." England looked back at the floor, not wanting to provoke the receptionist any further.
"It's ridiculous!" She continued, "You would think that he would do more to help."
"Don't go on about it Liza." The man looked over at Elizabeta, giving her a tired smile. "Gilbert's always been a bit wild."
"But he's your cousin, honey." She slumped back in her chair, still frowning, "I don't understand how you can be so lenient with him, Roderich."
Roderich stood up, brushing off his white doctor's coat. "At least his brother's more responsible. Ludwig seems to be happy with how his studies are going."
"He's got Feli keeping him under control." Elizabeta chuckled, the image of Lovino's twin dancing around the tall blonde figure of Ludwig was almost too clear a picture in her mind.
"Let's keep family affairs for later, shall we?" Tino poked his head around the door, looking around the waiting room. "Can we have your help for a second, Roderich? Berwald's trying to stitch up the wound and Raivis keeps getting in the way."
"Yes, yes. I'm coming." Roderich got up and quickly swept away into the other room, leaving the other three alone in the lobby.
Elizabeta stood up, gathering together some papers which she placed into a file. Her long brown hair was pinned back with its usual flower clip but hung slightly limp from where she had been leaning on her desk. Her clothes were creased and didn't match, making the urgency of the matter all the more evident (her trousers were definitely pyjama bottoms). The beginnings of dark circles were forming under her large green eyes, emphasising how tired she must have been, having been pulled out to work so late at night.
Alfred placed his helmet on a nearby table which had magazines scattered over it and plopped himself down in the chair next to England. The older man kept glancing at the clock, mentally noting the time every couple of minutes, occasionally watching the second hand travel around the clock face.
Something brushed against Alfred's hand causing him to jump slightly and jerk away before he could look down. England had caught hold of his hand and was squeezing it tightly, not even letting go when Alfred had pulled his arm to one side. He squeezed back, looking back up to give the older man a quick smile before turning his gaze to look aimlessly around the room.
"They'll be wanting your help soon." Elizabeta spoke up, making them both jump. She chuckled lightly before her expression turned serious again. "The guy they're working on is quite big and he got hit hard so they'll need a hand supporting him. I imagine that you're quite the handy man, Alfred?" She smiled again, brushing her hair out of her eyes and waiting for the door to open.
The noises from the next room were quiet but still ever present in the silence of the reception area. Elizabeta had taken to sorting out more paperwork while Alfred and England sat in the seating area (still holding hands) trying not to listen too hard to the painful groans of the patient; it made Alfred wonder if they were even using anaesthetic.
Eventually, after a few more minutes, the door open and Tino made his way back out of the office, handing over some scribbled notes to Elizabeta and speaking to her in hurried whispers as she wrote down all the information that she needed to fill in the file. He turned to the other two, still unsmiling, and jerked his head towards the door, "We need some help moving him to the bed." He stretched his arms above his head, "We managed to get him here alright, but it was a lot of hassle. I wouldn't have called you otherwise."
"It's alright." England stood up, dragging Alfred with him. "I'm used to your calls at random hours of the night, but the frog is getting fed up with having to look after Peter."
"After all these years of looking after you two, you'd think he'd be used to it." Tino laughed, holding the door open for the other two.
Alfred made his way inside, nodding in greeting to Berwald and following the taller man's gesture towards the man on the bench who was evidently the patient. His dark blonde hair was slick with sweat and dishevelled from an obvious struggle. His shirt hung open and was spattered with blood, most of which had soaked into one sleeve which had been sliced down the length, showing a long wound. The knees of his jeans were ripped open, displaying the scrapes running down his legs. Dried blood covered a small portion of his forehead, forcing him to keep one eye closed while the other drooped wearily from the exhaustion of whatever had happened to him.
England had stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes fixated on the person slumped in front of him, more specifically, the cut on his arm. The man seemed to feel the eyes watching him and looked up to meet England's gaze, the one eye he could open widening when he caught sight of the smaller biker.
"You-!" He managed to choke out, sitting up a little too suddenly before Berwald and Roderich rushed to support him. "What're you doing here?"
"That's what I should be asking." England spat, glaring at the man who was now being leant back against the head support of the bench. "You're one of the last people I expected to end up with that. What happened to the loyal Estonia?"
"This is punishment." Estonia flopped back against the pillows, using Berwald's arm for support.
"Eduard didn't a-agree with what Russia was doing." England almost jumped when Raivis spoke up from the corner. He had forgotten that the boy was staying with Tino and Berwald for the time being. His mousy hair was sticking up awkwardly, obviously indicating that he'd recently gotten out of bed, despite how late it was.
"And what is Russia doing?" England scowled, looking between the two ex-bikers.
"He's angry." Eduard shifted on the bench again, finding it hard to focus on England without his glasses. "I wasn't the only one he lashed out at this time. But there's no time for this!" He suddenly tried to get up again, this time being held up by Alfred, who was the closest to the bench. "You need to leave! He's angry because you haven't been turning up to the meetings!" He shook off Alfred and staggered to his feet. "You need to go home! Your brother-"
"What about Peter?" England jerked his head up, looking at Eduard in all seriousness.
"A group of us tried to stop him, but he overpowered us. Belarus is tougher than she looks as well."
"Get to the fucking point!" England yelled, his temper fraying.
"Your punishment." Eduard said simply. "He's going after your brother."
England froze. His mind going completely blank. He hadn't expected the boss to go as far as that. He'd thought that he was going to be marked, that much was obvious, but to go for Peter, that was low. But that much was to be expected of Russia. He was a man of whom no one knew what he was thinking behind that smile and those eyes.
"Sorry if it's not my place," Alfred suddenly spoke up, having been forgotten by the others while they had been talking. "But this boss of yours, what's he actually like? You've never actually told me."
England turned to look at him. Alfred, despite his usual cool and collected nature, looked unexpectedly nervous upon hearing what Eduard had said. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and he wasn't meeting anyone's gaze, instead looking firmly at the floor.
"I didn't think that it was something you should be concerned about." England spoke softly, trying to hide his own worry.
"I want to know." Alfred still wouldn't look at him.
"He's cold." Eduard spoke up, answering Alfred's request. "Like ice. And it's impossible to tell what he's thinking." He paused, as if waiting for one of the others to carry on, but neither did. "He always wears black, apart from his scarf, which he always has with him."
"And he's really tall." Raivis cut in over Eduard, "Like Berwald, but scary." Berwald reached over to ruffle the boy's hair, pushing down slightly in an affectionate manner, like a father.
"But the thing that always gets me is," Eduard continued, his brow furrowing slightly as he pictured the gang leader, "it never changes no matter whether he is angry or not-"
"His smile." England finished, glaring up towards the ceiling. "He always smiles without fail. That's what makes him so terrifying."
He looked back at Alfred, who, if possible, looked ever worse. He looked almost stunned from shock. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly that it looked like his nails would cut through his skin.
"Al? Are you-?" England's phone started ringing, cutting him off midsentence.
"What's wrong?" He answered, skipping hellos.
Francis's voice could be heard over the phone's small speaker, his accent making it harder to understand what he was saying.
"Zhey broke in!" He shouted.
"Who broke in?"
"You know who!" The Frenchman sounded desperate. "Zhey broke into your room and took 'im!"
"What?" England looked widely up at Alfred, then at Eduard.
"Zhey took Peter! Jesus, you need to open your ears, you-"
England hung up, his hand shaking as he attempted to put his mobile back in his pocket. His face had turned white, emphasising his eyes more than usual.
He turned abruptly, sprinting from the room. He grabbed his helmet from under the chair where he had left it, not stopping to listen to Elizabeta's questions and left the surgery as fast as he could. Before he could reach his bike, however, a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a halt.
Alfred stood behind him, holing him firmly to the spot.
"What're you-?"
"I'm coming too." He said quickly.
"You've got to be joking! There's no way-!"
"I'm coming." He cut off England's protests, making his own way toward the bike. "They took Peter, right? We need to hurry."
"Fine." England scowled, pulling his helmet on. "But this isn't going to be pretty."
"I know." Alfred swung himself on the bike behind the smaller man, his helmet already in place.
England revved the bike into gear, setting off with a screech down the narrow alley opposite the building. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what Russia could have done, sinking uncomfortably towards the worst scenario.
"It'll be fine!" Alfred shouted over the engine noise, squeezing the biker's waist quickly.
"You'd better be right." He spun around another corner, knowing only too well where he was heading to.
