It was a sign of something bad when Roderich didn't even wave good morning on his way into his office. It only happened when certain cases took a bad turn or he'd had a fight with Elizabeta. And considering Gilbert had eaten dinner with the two of them last night, he knew it wasn't the latter.
"Where are you going?" Vash asked flatly when Gilbert stood from his chair.
"Family reunion, you're welcome to join."
Vash took one glance at the open door leading to the Commisioner's office and shook his head, "I think I'll skip the idiot's beating for today, thanks."
"So rude," Gilbert grinned before turning and heading for Roderich, who sat slumped across his desk looking rather gray.
"Am I correct to assume you made your dear wife angry on your way out the door this morning?" Gilbert asked in greeting, not waiting for an invitation and sitting in the chair opposite Roderich's.
"Good morning Gilbert, and for your unneeded information, no, my wife is still perfectly content with my presence."
"Then it's the sudden increase of our arresting the misguided youth that has you so down?" Gilbert wondered patronizingly, "I mean, why else would you not even wave hello to me on your way in? It must have been something I've done." The cop threw an arm across his face in dramatic woe.
"Surprisingly, no." Roderich rolled his eyes, "For once you haven't managed to set me off."
"Then what's wrong?" Gilbert groaned.
Roderich sighed, reaching into his phone and swiping his finger across the screen before pulling up an email. In it, Gilbert was greeted by the smiling school photos of Peter and Wendy Micnat, a picture of a blonde kid looking dead in the camera, surrounded by probable party goers, and two hastily snapped shots of beat up looking old cars. Below all of that was details pertaining to the Micnat case, which had been expanded to include a sixteen year old boy named Matthew.
"They got away." Gilbert whispered, his mood lowering to on par with Roderich's.
"And they were headed this way the last time the police saw them." Roderich groaned, "But it's been days since then Gil."
"We have to help then!" Gilbert cried, "Put out roadblocks or at least increase patrols-"
Roderich's snicker cut him off, "Perhaps you should be doing this job instead of me Gil, you seem to already know what to do."
"We have to do something, don't we?"
"We do," Roderich nodded, "We do… but I don't see how much help it's going to be."
Gilbert sighed, pulling the chair closer to the desk and snatching a red pen from the pencil cup, "Look, see this car? How beat up it is?"
"Yeah?"
"They've probably dumped it-the other car too-at least, if they're smart. Which they must be for holding onto these exact kids for years-or they won't because they're to sentimental, again, kept the same kids for years, but I'm willing to beat their heads would win out over their hearts in a situation like this."
"Alright, so don't bother trying to chase these cars down, because they're probably long gone in a ditch or something somewhere." Roderich stated.
"Yeah, and these guys, being the evil geniuses they are, probably drove as fast as possible away from the area. If anything they're already in our jurisdiction or damn well close to it."
"Thus my stress…"
"We should definitely be looking for these kids-probably Matthew the most. The heat was only recently reapplied to him, and they don't know that. They'd probably send him out for errands so they could watch the Micnats themselves."
"And they don't think he'll run?"
"It's been about seven years right? Stockholm syndrome will have definitely taken hold by now. He's bound to believe he's safest with his kidnappers. Especially with the line of work he's been forced to do."
Roderich frowned, glancing back down at the email before rolling his eyes, "I can see your vacation wasn't spent totally clear of police files."
"I have a friend, well I say friend rather loosely, someone I'm well acquainted with over at that precinct. He was willing to at least give me a summary of the case file. Which I'm glad, it'll help."
"Gilbert," Roderich pushed his phone and the pen Gilbert had been using as a pointer to the desk, making eye contact with his cousin, "Promise me you won't go looking for these people. Don't go stirring up trouble and making things worse-"
"You act like you can't trust me."
Roderich sighed, sounding possibly more exhausted, "I don't trust your impulses, what you're liable to do when your emotions get in the way. You take these kinds of cases personally-and I understand," Gilbert looked ready to yell as Roderich was quick to explain himself, "I completely understand, believe me, but it's true. You see Ludwig in every case where a kid is involved and… they get at you. Vash tells me all the time you'll get really low when those kinds of cases go south-"
"Didn't take Vash for the gossiping old lady type."
"He's worried." Roderich said, looking distressed, "We're all worried."
Gilbert rolled his eyes, putting a hand over his heart and raising the other, "I promise I won't go looking for the kids obviously in danger-even though they're probably right around the corner."
"Gilbert!"
"You got my point!" Gilbert cried, "I won't act recklessly."
"That's all I ask." Roderich snapped.
"But we still need to search! Especially right now, they could be here or they could be close!"
"I don't doubt you Gilbert-and I was already planning to do all you've already suggested."
"So… so then what?" Gilbert frowned, "Don't you have anything to add? Something to suggest about these guys? Maybe a way to beat them?"
"Gilbert," Roderich sighed in that annoyingly patient voice Gilbert had come to hate over the years, "Besides them possibly making their way towards us, we have nothing to add to the case. We're no help to anyone."
Alfred had come to school distraught, snapping at everyone who crossed his path. The whole day was spent walking on eggshells around him, doing your best not to make him explode. Kiku had made the mistake of wandering into one or two touchy subjects that day, and as he made his way home he only then realized maybe why Alfred had been unable to remain calm all day.
Kiku's father had mentioned how Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy had been demanding updates on the case, on their son, and his father had been unable to dodge a punch or two when the update had been less than what they were hoping for-in fact, the exact opposite.
Mattie was in the wind again, they'd obtained a description of the cars but it wouldn't be enough to find him. His father had come home late several times, making the drive to and from different possible hideouts and coming up with nothing to show for it. He was currently reaching out to other police departments, sounding more and more aggravated when they came up with nothing either.
Turning from his usual route to get home, he cut through one or two neighborhoods until he came upon Alfred's house where he heard a loud banging from the side of the house. Alfred was there, partially hidden by the side hedges lining the bricks with his baseball bat smashing at the trash bins violently. There were bandages poorly wrapped around his fingers, revealing the bloody knuckles underneath.
Kiku began to rethink the idea of talking to Alfred when a swing the blond took managed to throw Kiku into his peripheral. Alfred paused after delivering one more blow to the bins and turned to look at Kiku, panting heavily. His eyes were red, a bit of moisture smeared across one cheek.
"What do you want?" Alfred snapped, wiping at his face.
"I… I can come back later."
"What do you want, Kiku?"
Kiku bit his lip nervously, the grip on his schoolbag tightening as he stepped back.
"I… I wanted to see how you were doing…" He muttered, "And… say I'm… sorry."
Alfred stared at him, a silence growing between the two that was only punctuated by the sound of him panting from the exertion.
"Why?" Alfred finally asked, sounding more annoyed and tired than curious.
Kiku shrugged, finding his shoes more interesting to stare at as he fidgeted in place, "Matthew's gone. My dad was in charge of the attempt to save him…"
"I'm mad at your dad, not you." Alfred snapped, turning back to the bins, "Bring him here to apologize." He swung again at the bins, managing to send the recycling one onto its side.
"What happened to your fingers?" Kiku asked.
"Punched three holes in the drywall, managed to hit a beam on two of them." Alfred said, turning his full attention to the downed recycling bin, "My dad sent me out here when he heard me cussing."
Kiku nodded, not sure what else to say. He was about ready to bid a hasty, and embarrassed, goodbye when Alfred managed to land a hit that put a hole in the bin. Alfred stood crouched over it, panting and silent, before tossing the bin to the grass and casting his gaze to Kiku.
"So… up for a trip to McD's?"
Kiku wasn't sure how else to reply other than a meek nod. There was still a sort of snapped feel to Alfred's gaze, his rage still brimming just below the surface. What would happen should Kiku decline?
"Good, I don't want to go in there anyway. Pop's been a mess and Dad can't get him to stop guzzling the wine bottles with everything." Alfred said, a sort of heated tone causing Kiku to flinch. Was Alfred truly only angry with his father and not him? Was any of this directed at him, like last time with Matthew's room?
Alfred ordered for both of them, letting Kiku scurry to find a table that looked relatively clean. When Alfred approached bearing a tray laden with burgers, fries, and sundaes Kiku wondered if he'd be able to stomach dinner tonight.
They chewed in silence for a while, neither making eye contact with the other, until Alfred finally set his burger down and swallowed.
"I see my Pop cry all the time… it was almost constant right after it happened… but I've never seen my Dad collapse in the front entrance and break down so badly."
Kiku kept his eyes fixed on the tray in front of him. Some upside down ad about a charity or something with that redheaded clown dancing across the paper.
"He spent all night sobbing, but he had to pull himself together because then my Pop finally lost his fight with his depression and he's been like a husk ever since."
Why was Alfred telling him this? Was he trying to guilt him? Was he supposed to be sorry?
"I haven't enjoyed being home much," Alfred continued, "I don't know what to do, I'm afraid if I say something they'll break. Or I'll break. Maybe we'll all break together? That wouldn't be much of a home for Mattie to come home to."
Kiku remained silent, staring at that stupid ad and curling his fists tighter and tighter. There had to be something he could say or do, but he didn't know what.
"I lost it today though, at school and stuff? I overheard my dad trying to coax my pop to eat breakfast and… I couldn't listen to it all anymore and just… keep it all bottled up." Alfred's voice sounded thicker, like it was getting harder for him to talk or breathe, "I've had to keep a lot of crap bottled up. Growing up… because I hated how they looked at each other and at me and at Mattie's room… at Mattie's pictures…"
Kiku chanced a glance upwards and found Alfred had propped his elbows up on the table, folding his hands together so they covered his eyes as he rested his forehead against them. Small drops of water were trailing their way down his cheeks.
"I did this to them." He whispered, voice thicker than concrete, "I did this because I had to play hero and couldn't leave well enough alone. Now my dad's trying to keep my pop alive pretty much and they both look at me and see Mattie and it just hurts them… so, so freaking much…"
Kiku realized seeing his friend crying and blaming himself was far worse than his friend beating trashcans and blaming him. In fact he almost wished for that instead.
Kiku took a deep breath, still not entirely confident in his ability to play comforter, and reached out to touch Alfred's arm. Alfred flinched at the contact and Kiku recoiled, drawing his hand away and pressing it tight to his own chest.
"I hate myself so much…"
Kiku swallowed, "My dad's going to find something… with as hard as he's been working he has to."
Alfred remained silent, a sniffle tearing free from his nose.
"And it's not like he's stabbing in the dark… he knows what direction they're headed. He knows who to look for." Kiku played with the cuff of his jacket, "It's not the first time he's saved a kid from something super horrible."
"I'm sure he does it all the time…" Alfred hissed, wiping roughly at his eyes as if he were going to try and hide the fact he was crying from Kiku.
"No, usually he stays away from these cases." Kiku said, "He hates it when kids get involved, gives him these horrible nightmares and I think he got an ulcer once."
"Then what's he doing?" Alfred mumbled, "Why'd he take Mattie's?"
"I think that was just luck of the draw… but I've only seen him fight this hard on a case once before. Usually he'd have found them by now, or dealt with whatever the issue is and spent the next couple nights dreaming about all the horrible things that happened to the kids he didn't bring home."
Alfred sniffled, "Wow… this sounds like a cop was a really big mistake in career choice for your dad."
"He told me why he became a cop," Kiku shrugged, picking up a fry and making it wander across the table, "He said he needed to be there, he needed to help people. He told me at first he just liked being the guy on top, no one could push him around… I think he's still kinda like that. It's not super obvious, but he likes being the top dog at work among the other officers. But when there's a kid involved he turns into this crusader. He doesn't stop until at least the kid is okay."
"What about the rest of the case?"
"Usually the kid is the case… but the rest is left up to old fashioned police work." Kiku said, "I think kids are my dad's weakness. He can't have them on his own; he's not all that interested in a wife or someone to have his own kids with. He just sort of connects to people on his own regardless of what they would were supposed to do for him."
Alfred breathed, a shaky sounding gasp of air, and laid his head down in his arms across the table.
"Mattie's not alone you know, he has those kids, and I bet a lot of others." Kiku said, "People don't like abusing just… one other." There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, something that twisted the organ around in an almost painful way, "And when you're not alone… things are a bit more livable."
"Are you trying to say he's having a good time wherever the hell he is?" Alfred asked, an edge to his voice.
"No," Kiku shook his head, his hand was beginning to shake as memories flashed through his mind's eye, "Just that when you aren't alone in places like that… you have something to hold on to. You'd give up and then you'd be dead to the world. You wouldn't be getting Matthew back, you'd be getting a living corpse. With a lot… with a ton of issues. And nightmares."
"Kiku?"
Kiku had dropped the fry, taken to watching his twitching fingers instead. He looked up at Alfred and it managed to snap him out of whatever sinking trance he'd wandered into. He smiled at Alfred awkwardly.
"I know my dad is going to find your brother. And I know it's going to be your brother."
Alfred frowned, "O… okay…"
"So please stop crying and hold a little bit of hope. It's better than breaking your fingers; I'm guessing Matthew won't appreciate that."
"Kiku…" Alfred swallowed, "I want to go looking for him again."
"And how would we do that?"
"You'd come?"
"We'd bring Carlos as well, otherwise you could get hurt." Kiku grinned, taking his joke as a success when Alfred rolled his eyes and grinned despite himself