I told you not to Google impetigo! Do you listen? No. My case is not that bad and it's clearing up fast. I love you all, my reviewers! There will be no amnesia! Just saying that now.

GoAnime, Zenna95, hetarynnies, Cynmia, Shiruvia, mofalle, the lovely GreyMoth, IAmACat, themagnificent Me, KajiMori, IliveinIthilien, SaraBarnes, xXthenextbookworkXx and Tell me, thank you all so much!

Congratulations to Cynmia who correctly guessed the identity of Alfred's therapist, and to woodbyne, because she posted this, talked me through it and let me sit on her legs while I typed. Seriously, guys, without her, I would be on permanent writer's block.

NOTE: In the last chapter, when Matthew said "Dear God, Al-mighty." No prises for guessing what he almost said.

"I. Am. Not. Gay!"

"I never said that you were, Alfred, please sit down," the psychologist said calmly, though his hands were white-knuckled on the arms of his chair.

"You didn't, but you implied it! And it's not true! I'm not gay! " Alfred was yelling now, hands alternating between balled fists and jabbing fingers pointing accusingly at the professional in the chair.

"You're not homophobic-"

"OF COURSE NOT! Matthew is my best friend! I am not a homophobe! What you don't seem to understand, Doc, is that I am not gay," the American's face was contorted with frustration, angry tears beginning to well up in the corners of his eyes. It was odd to see Alfred, who though casual, was usually so well groomed, like this. His hair was in disarray, sticking up where he had been running his hands through it. His eyes were sharp and wild, aiming their accusing stare at whomever he could; at this moment in time, his therapist. He was on his feet, pacing like a caged tiger, arms swinging, searching, looking for the comfort that he knew wasn't there anymore.

"Mr Jones, please take your seat." His voice wasn't loud but there was a ring of authority in his tone that gave the American pause. Slowly, as though he were gauging how much power the other man truly exerted here, he backed off. Baser instinct won out and Alfred grudgingly resumed his seat.

"Sorry bout that, doc. It's just.. It's just that I'm not. I am not gay. This isn't about sexuality, I couldn't really care less if I were gay or not, and neither will anyone who matters. This is about identity. I have never identified as gay, I have never looked at another man in a sexual way. I am a straight guy. Sexuality is one of the chief identifiers in life, it is an essential part of who you are, so much of society these days is dependent on sexuality. I am sure of myself and who I am. I am pretty damn sure about who I am."

"Right, so you don't think you can be gay because you already know who you are?"

"You know that shrinky thing where you tell me what I just said is irritating as fuck."

"I'm quite aware of that, Alfred. But what surprises me is your non-acceptance of change."

"My non-acceptance?" the American tilted his head, puzzled by the line of argument, "I am a very accepting person. I accept change. But one cannot note the variables in an experiment without having non-variables. I am a non-variable."

"You are twenty-six. What about the future? Settling down, having a family and a long-term partner? All of those things require a lot of permanent change."

"I am perfectly aware of that, doctor," Alfred said coolly, "But when I find the woman I love – don't think I missed that you keep saying partner-"

"Force of habit, my apologies."

"When I find the woman I love. Change won't be a problem, because we'll love each other, so changing for her won't be an issue. There will be no one who loves me more, and I'll trust in that," a faint, nostalgic smile crossed his lips.

"What about Matthew?"

"What about Mattie?" there was a dangerous note to Alfred's voice; the sound of thin ice cracking.

"Well it seems to me, and this is not my professional opinion, that when someone has to leave you in order to escape the pain of unrequited feelings, then they must truly love you, especially after staying with you for so long."

"I know," taking off his glasses, Alfred sighed heavily, the weight of the world resting on his bowed shoulders, "Believe me, I know. All the things that … Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? All the things I used to think were just friendly were.. more. I was his first kiss, you know? The first person he came out to. Our friendship has destroyed more than one of my relationships, and every single one of his," looking up at the man across from him, the American's blue eyes seemed so vulnerable and childlike without their glass shield, and at the same time, so world-weary, "But I just can't. I can't change who I am."

"Can't or won't?"

"The fuck university did you go to?" the taller man demanded, "What kind of question is that? I said can't, I meant can't. I cannot do it."

"Why on earth not?" was the reasonably toned reply.

"Think about Mattie. What if I tried? What if I wasn't sure, and I tried? What would that do to him? If he really loves me, if I've been hurting him all this time, then what would that do to him? I – I can't give him false hope only to take it away again. It would destroy him. Look at my other relationships. The longest one I've been in since I was eighteen was six months, and I was seeing three other girls during that time. He knows what I'm like. He should know that I wouldn't want him just on the grounds of that he's my best friend, and I don't want him to turn into one of my girls. And what if I just up and changed my mind? What if I hurt him more than I already have done? I've broken his heart so easily without even knowing it and – and- and why would I want to break it on purpose? Why would I risk hurting him like that? Just because I- I. I don't know. I'm not gay. I can't be gay. Especially not for Mattie."

"That's a sound argument. You've given this a lot of thought."

"He's my best friend."

"You love him."

"Of course I love him! Matthew's like… like… aw, fuck analogies. We're two parts to a whole," blue eyes widened, and Alfred's mouth fell open. "Of course I love him," he whispered bemusedly, "No one knows me better. He's always there for me. He always puts me first. He would never hurt me. I would never hurt him. I know him better than anyone. I'll always be.. there for… I need to be in Canada. Now."

"Pardon?" the psychologist asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm still not gay, doc, but I think I owe Mattie a chat, so.. uh, I'll catch you when I catch you."

"Good luck, Alfred," the other man smiled, slightly confused.

"Thanks. You know," the American paused halfway out the door, "I swear I know your name from somewhere. It's driving me crazy."

"Goodbye, Alfred."

"Bye, doc!"

Smiling quietly, the good doctor walked back to his desk, fingers tapping at the dark wood. As far as therapist's offices went, it was fairly stereotypical. Beige, red and brown themed interior, a desk, a leather armchair (handed down through generations; its twin was at home) and lots of books accompanied the couch that the American had just been occupying.

Easing himself into the chair behind his desk and feeling like a king on his throne, he picked up a phone, dialling a number as his faint smile grew to a pronounced smirk. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"Hello, dear heart, yes, it's me. Inception successful, shall we have tea? Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur," Arthur Kirkland, PhD, picked up his jacket and wandered out of his office, looking forward to seeing his lover again. He did enjoy making headway with patients.

~====o)0(o====~

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.

"He's waking up!"

"Oh thank God!"

"Don't crowd him!"

"Al? Alfred?" Matthew asked groggily.