On Better Terms

Chapter 23

Commentary from the Hetalia Gallery

Arthur: I'm still a taxi driver? I have all the money in the world and I still take a job that's a taxi driver?

Peter: You of all people should know that being a taxi driver in London is tough stuff.

Arthur: Yeah... But still...

Alfred: I... how... could you... what...?

Arthur: Are you okay? Not that I'd care. It just would be a dampener on my mood if you suddenly were unwell enough to make economic deals with England. That's all.

Francis: I think he's suffering from love shock.

Alfred: No... no... It's just... my beautiful face! Why, Galythia, why? Go for anything else but the face.

Francis: I was talking about Arthur, mon cher.

Arthur: WHAT? I'm not even in shock. I feel hatred, and anger, and venomous thoughts! That's what it is.

Francis: Tsk. You should let yourself learn about life's... greater pleasures.

Arthur: No thanks, I've had enough of that from the creepiness of this story.

Ivan: Who's creepy...?

Arthur and Alfred: Not you! Definitely, not you.

Ivan: Awww... just when I had hoped to make a good impression on you... *eye glint*

Over the next several months, Arthur kept looking, metaphorically and literally, over his shoulders. He always felt like he was being watched, and was very careful with his actions, despite the fact that nothing had happened to either of the Kirkland brothers yet. They were still unharmed, had had been living—though perhaps not comfortably (in the paranoia sense)—in England for a few months already. Both senior and junior Brit were both highly aware of themselves and their surroundings.

Every day that managed to pass by without a hitch was always a surprise to Arthur, who had simply far too much time to himself to stoke his paranoia. He hadn't even expected to get onto a plane that looked officially like it was headed for England, and even then, he was still quite surprised when it landed. Still, it took him a few days of careful investigation to finally believe that it really was London, and that it wasn't just some fake cruel joke on Ivan's part—for he fully believed that Ivan was capable of rebuilding a model of all of London just for Arthur if he ever so desired. And so, Arthur did what he was so used to doing, and found himself a job. Just one. Somehow, he had also found himself in possession of a bank account of plenty along with the deeds to a home that he found quite pleasing—all of which, of course, he found quite suspicious. However, he wasn't really in a position to refuse any of it either, no matter how stubborn he could be at times.

Peter went to the City of London School, which he somehow never had to take the entrance exams for. He didn't even have to take the French exam required of all students 13+, which he surely would have failed. They just mailed him the acceptance letter, and then on the first day of term, he just showed up in his uniform and started right in. Peter never felt like he really belonged at a private school, and he still didn't feel that he belonged now. He made a few acquaintances over the months, but most of his friends came from the neighborhood, since he always occupied his free time with helping around when he wasn't doing homework. He came to know the neighbors well, and would tell them that Arthur was never free, so that Arthur wouldn't have to make their acquaintance as well.

During his whole time in England thus far, Peter had been looking for an opportune moment to tell Arthur the true story of Alfred F. Jones. However, whenever he started to, he either just couldn't find the words for such a daunting task, or Arthur would break away at the mention of Alfred and run away. Arthur wouldn't even make an excuse or anything. He just always said that he didn't want to talk about "those creeps from his past."

And thus... a year, then two passed. Peter, now 17, and Arthur now 27, fell into a routine. Arthur would take Peter to school every morning, then go to work as a taxi driver. This might not sound too exciting, but Arthur found it quite fun. It reminded him fondly of the "good-old days" before all the crap happened, and it was actually pretty hard stuff with the Knowledge and all. London was a big place.

Peter then came home from school by himself and did all of his homework while he waited for Arthur to return. When Arthur came back, he would still valiantly attempt to cook dinner. Peter never quite understood how his brother managed to burn water, but his brother was able to do things that he thought most people couldn't—like live through such hell. So maybe burning water wasn't that bad after all.

Some nights, Peter stole away to a friend's house for dinner, and Arthur was too tired to come and make friends, so he just wished Peter a good time and ate by himself. It was on these days that Peter most wanted to tell Arthur the truth, because it was on these days that Arthur looked most pained. Those green eyes were cracked, and when Arthur smiled, he never smiled anymore. When Arthur walked into the room, you couldn't tell that much was amiss if you never knew him from before, but to Peter, Arthur was very different from who he had been three years ago. Even though there were bad times back then, Arthur always managed a smile, always ruffled Peter's hair, as much as he "hated" it, and always went at life with a certain enthusiasm that some struggling people have.

But now, it seemed like Arthur was on the other side of the struggling people spectrum, wherein he felt fatigued, beleaguered by his existence as he dealt with a different struggle than necessary material goods. After all this time, he still loved Alfred, and his love still shone just as brightly. He could never look at anyone else in the same way, or imagine doing so. Nevertheless, throughout this time, he had been vehemently hating the fact that he still loved that "arse of a lawyer," and that took a gradual toll on him.

This was until Peter decided it was too much. He couldn't bear it for himself anymore, and though he knew that it was mainly a selfish reason in doing so, Peter wanted to force Arthur to listen. The pained looks, the long sighs—they were all just too much to bear for Peter, who wanted to give his brother at least something to fight for, if only to fight his younger brother about a story.

Thus, one day, as they were having a sort of oatmeal-esque thing for dinner, with unidentified lumps and all, Peter abruptly stopped eating and uttered, "You don't know what you're talking about when it comes to Alfred."

Arthur's spoon clattered on the table in the silence that followed. They sat in silence as Arthur shot his brother a look that was tinged with anger. This was part of the reason that Peter wanted it all to end. Sure, his brother had gotten angry at him before, but never with such deathly vehemence. It scared the crap out of him.

The sound of a chair screeching broke the silence, and Arthur made to stand up. He was done with dinner, for all he cared. All appetite was gone.

"No!" Peter yelled suddenly. He was surprised at himself, for he didn't raise his voice often at anything, unlike his easily annoyed brother. Arthur was surprised as well, and temporarily stopped. "You cannot keep running away. Do you know what he did for you?"

Arthur turned practically livid now. How could his own brother defend such an immoral bastard? What had Arthur done wrong in Peter's upbringing to make him like this?

"What he did for me?" Arthur was incredulous. "You were there. You should know full well what he did for me. I became homeless and you... you..." Arthur couldn't bring himself to say anything about it. Peter being in Ivan's hands was what haunted him most—more so than his hatred for Ivan, more so than his love for Alfred, more so than his hatred of himself at being so damn useless and somehow still in love with the bastard. "I don't want to talk about it." He took up his dishes and walked to the sink.

Peter stood up as well. "Would you just listen to me for a minute?" he insisted, now angry himself. Why was Arthur so damn stupid and stubborn sometimes?

Arthur shot him a venomous glance. "Why should I? You were locked in a cage for most of the proceedings! How would you know anything while you were being fondled?!" Arthur realized his words a moment too late and his expression immediately changed to one of worry. "I"m sor—"

"Don't be," Peter interrupted, still angry. "Just please, give me a listen."

Arthur's eyes hardened. "I. Really. Can't."

"Yes you can! How can you be so sure of yourself? What do you think Ivan received in order to let us go free, huh? Have you ever—"

The doorbell rang. Arthur and Peter glanced up, neither expecting anyone or any delivery. Arthur made it for the door, replying in a frustrated tone over his shoulder, "I've never wanted to think about Ivan or Alfred again. Why do you still want to?"

"Because I want you to know that Alfred gave his—"

Arthur opened the door, and in tumbled a disheveled man, covered in blood, definitely unconscious, if not dead, with an arm sticking out at a weird angle which made Arthur sure the limb was broken.

"... life for you..." Peter finished. He dashed for the door, already with an inkling as to who this was. Arthur looked outside the doorway just in time to see a black Porsche drive down the road and turn a corner. That Porsche looked too similar to the ones he had known... Arthur shuddered, lost in his thoughts.

A quiet sob from Peter pulled Arthur back to reality. He turned around to look and stopped dead in the middle of his action. The face was almost unrecognizable, having been bashed, and bruised, and... was that a piercing? But there was no mistaking that "sleeping" expression, which he had seen many times in the rearview mirror when he had been a chauffer, or the hair, which was matted with blood, but had a certain style that Arthur had never encountered anywhere else. The broken man before him, who looked like he had been wrestled by all the pro-wrestlers throughout history at once, was the man he loved. The man who betrayed him. And the man who, as far as he's known, loved Ivan.

Arthur's fragile heart crumbled, and all his emotional inhibitions wore away as he stared upon the body, unable to move. Torrents of emotion crashed through him as he found himself falling to his knees, unable to expend energy to support himself anymore. Just when he thought his past was gone... Pain gripped his heart, anger pierced his soul, and, most of all, love filled his body. It was so much more than he was ever prepared for, and Arthur fainted.

Of all the people who came through that door, why did it have to be Alfred F. Jones?

Author's Comments:

As it's looking right now, I think the next chapter is the last chapter. This is the first story I've ever written, so I don't know how well it's turned out. Thank you for you guys who gave me constructive criticism, since it's helped me quite a bit for the future chapters. I read all of your comments, and I think I reply to all of them too. It's been quite a long haul, hasn't it? ^_^"

Now that I've gotten back into writing fanfiction, my next stories will be better and better because of all the comments on this one! Thanks so much!

If you guys want to know my future plans, it's as follows:
- Shwatsonlock: I've been meaning to write about them for a while, especially since the BBC series came out, but I haven't had a chance to (and I had to finish this fic first!)
- Hornblower/Kennedy: this pairing comes from Horatio Hornblower, which I'm not sure if you've seen before, but you definitely should. It's so good that it hurts. It's also a book series by C. S. Forrester, which is just equally amazing, but different in its own way.
- OC pairings (which obviously won't be on here, because they're fanfiction of my own characters): I've been RPing with a friend of mine, and we've developed quite a good slew of characters for me to write about, and I've been wanting to write about them for quite a while.
- More Hetalia (especially USxUK): I miss Hetalia, and though I haven't watched in in a while, I've been meaning to start again (and read the manga in Japanese if I can)
- Yuuram: This comes from Kyou Kara Maoh! (which is an awesome anime/manga), and they were my first OTP, yet I've never gotten the guts to write about them yet. I think YuuCon is also a favorite from KKM, but I definitely have even less guts to write about that right now. xD

I hope you guys like this chapter! I know that my writing style has changed quite a bit from before (and it's totally fallen apart out of disuse, but I hope to bring it back up to par soon). As always, any comment is welcome. If you don't like, tell me why, if you do like, please let me know. =]

All the best,
Galythia