A/N : The soap opera officially BEGINS. (go play the 'Days of Our Lives' theme song. Go on. Do it. I dare you.)

Chapter 24

The Downpour

The police station was cold.

Alfred had a million other places he would rather be, instead of this uninviting and dreary place. Old echoes and sentiments, lurking beneath the surface, as the four of them stood in a dimly lit room and watched through a pane of two-way glass as an officer interrogated Ivan.

Gilbert and Toris, for all their anger, had followed Ludwig as Alfred had, but for very different reasons.

Gilbert came, he said, to make sure that Ludwig wouldn't attempt yet again to subvert the justice system and get Ivan out of trouble. Impossible now, because Ivan had caused quite a bit of damage to that building, and so Ludwig had no control over Ivan's fate. The dumb bastard had shot himself in the foot this time, and even if Ludwig wouldn't press assault charges, Ivan was still going up the river for the rest of the chaos.

Ludwig stared at Ivan through the glass, hand up to his face as he nervously picked at his lip between his fingernails. Gilbert and Toris were focused, intent, unblinking, and Alfred just shifted his weight from one weary leg to the other and tried to stay standing.

So exhausted, out of nowhere. Too much for one day.

The officer in the room was speaking softly and calmly, because at the moment Ivan was. Ivan was cuffed to the metal chair, because he had shown a penchant for unpredictable violence and was too hard to take down once he started raging.

But for now Ivan was very calm, very collected, very soft-spoken, very still, and conversed with the police officer in a very polite manner, stance and voice respectful. If Alfred had closed his eyes, he would never have connected that soft, gentle voice with that disheveled, crazed man it was coming from.

His voice was pretty. Why was it so pretty? Jerk.

Ivan's speech was strange, though. Ludwig had always made it seem as if Ivan was natural with English, as proficient as Toris, and yet...

Alfred couldn't put his finger on it, but it was very odd. All the words were there, Ivan spoke with great intelligence and used the same big words and formal speech that Ludwig had used with Alfred in the beginning of their relationship, but they were placed into the sentence in odd ways. Comprehensible, but unnerving and confusing.

The officer asked, "So, Ivan, how did you get into that building last night?"

Calmly and with no hint of defiance, Ivan replied, "When everyone out marched, in I walked. Just like that. No one saw me. Simple, exceedingly."

Ivan spoke swiftly and surely, and seemed to have no idea whatsoever that anything was amiss in his speech. The last time Alfred had heard Ivan speak had been that day Ivan had scaled Gilbert's fence, so long ago, and he sounded very different now. Felt as if his speech back then had been much clearer, neater, more natural.

The officer suddenly slid a paper and pen forward, and asked, "Care to write that down for me?"

Alfred didn't know why he did that, because the officer had obviously already been writing everything down. Must have been some sort of procedure, or perhaps the officer had something in his head that he was curious about. Who knew, but Ivan reached up as high as he could for the long cuffs, so cooperative now, and began scribbling away.

Surprised Ivan could see to write at all, as his bangs hung down into his eyes from not taking care of himself.

In the painfully bright lights of the interrogation room, the very heavy stubble on Ivan's cheeks glinted.

Alfred glanced over when Toris came up, placed his lips fully against Gilbert's ear and began whispering, so softly and lowly that no one else could hear. Gilbert's brow twitched in annoyance, and Alfred could only imagine what they were plotting. Ludwig had no care, didn't look over at all, too focused on Ivan as he mindlessly scribbled.

A minute later, Ivan slid the paper as far as he could back across the table, clasping his hands once more politely in his lap, and the officer picked the paper up. He held it aloft, and Alfred could see him glancing atop the paper frequently back in intervals, expression very strange.

Regardless, the officer set the paper down, changed the tone of his voice, and suddenly pried, "Ivan, tell me more about your ex. Were you there for him?"

Ivan sat up straight, seemed to sharpen, focus, and his face was more tense and his voice lower when he stated, very surely, "I have not an ex. I have a husband."

The officer softened his voice as Ivan sharpened his own, uncannily, and tried, "Isn't there a pending divorce?"

Ivan braced up, absolutely stony and stiff, and his voice was resolute when he stated, firmly, "No. There is not."

Alfred scoffed, lightly. Well, that was news to him.

The office merely gave a 'hm', and then stood up. He walked up to the door, and they all turned to look at him when he came out. The officer went straight to Ludwig, and held out the paper Ivan had written upon. Ludwig took it, looked down at it, and the officer asked, "Can you make sense of that?"

Alfred leaned over, nosily, as did Toris. Gilbert was glaring yet at Ivan, trying to appear very uninterested.

Ludwig's brow crinkled as he stared down at the paper, and Alfred could see why.

Instead of writing out a neat, concise statement, the paper was full of jagged, uneven lines of a sloppy cursive that Alfred could never in a million years have read. He was about ninety percent sure those weren't even real letters at all, or certainly not Latin ones at any rate. As garbled and frightening as the letters that had been written into the red paint at home.

Ludwig seemed as utterly clueless, eyes flitting restlessly over the paper as he tried so hard to read it. He couldn't, in the end, and that was obvious because Ludwig looked at the officer and tried to redirect everything by uttering, softly, "He's sick."

No, he wasn't. Ivan was crazy, and maybe that was sick in some way, but Alfred wasn't going to let Ludwig give Ivan any leeway. Ludwig attempted to elicit sympathy and caring and understanding for Ivan, even now in this chilly police station.

Ludwig held the paper out to the officer, he took it, and then Ludwig asked, "Can I speak to him?"

"No," Gilbert immediately barked, because naturally Gilbert considered himself the very law itself.

This time, in this place, Gilbert was not in control, didn't own everyone around him, and the officer ignored Gilbert and led Ludwig to the door. Gilbert's pale face splotched red with his fury, and he kicked out angrily at the brick wall as Ludwig went alone into that room. The officer stayed outside.

Alfred, for once, couldn't blame Gilbert much for his outburst, because he felt the same. Woulda rather burnt this place down than see Ludwig walk into that room and sit down there before Ivan.

Ivan was staring at the table, hands still in his lap and very lost out in space, as he had been when he had stared at Alfred that day in front of the building. He didn't notice that Ludwig was there at all, in fact, until Ludwig suddenly lifted up his deep voice in a whisper.

"Hi."

Ivan was still for a moment, before he glanced up through his lashes and saw Ludwig. A slow inhale, a shift of Ivan's face, and he sat up straight again, eyes locked on Ludwig and lips parted.

Silence.

The expression on Ludwig's face was breaking Alfred's heart, it really was. Hated seeing it, and not just because Alfred couldn't stand Ludwig being distraught; he couldn't stand it because it was so easy to see how much Ludwig loved Ivan. Ludwig wasn't very expressive by nature, couldn't say many sentimental things, couldn't really be vocally loving, but it was so easy to see when Ludwig looked at Ivan how much adoration he felt.

Ivan, for his part, stared at Ludwig as if he had fallen down from the sky.

After a while, Ivan finally responded, just as softly, with a weak, "Hi."

Ludwig leaned forward, hands upon the table, and it was obvious how badly he wanted to touch Ivan. Couldn't reach him, across that wide table, and Ivan's cuffed wrists wouldn't have allowed him to stretch forward far enough for Ludwig to take his hands. Ludwig was in love, but had enough sense yet to keep himself out of Ivan's clutches. Small favors, Alfred supposed.

No one would have looked at those two then, staring so longingly at each other, and imagined that one had been holding a knife above the other.

Ivan's manic and unpredictable moods seemed to have no discernible trigger. Entirely random.

Ludwig leaned farther over the table, and whispered, soothingly, "Ivan, listen to me. I need you to ask them for a lawyer. You have to ask for a lawyer. Please."

That awful look of wrath on Gilbert's face. The cop scoffed, and rolled his eyes a little.

But Ivan was very silent, and didn't ask for a lawyer. Alfred wasn't even sure that Ivan knew where he was and what was happening.

Ludwig looked messy Ivan over, and asked, perhaps more to himself, "Is no one taking care of you?"

Ivan seemed momentarily confused, dazed, and suddenly his pale eyes lowered down and seemed to settle upon Ludwig's hand.

An unnerving stretch of silence, as Ivan's brow steadily lowered, and Alfred shivered a little when Ivan's eyes abruptly snapped back up, pinning Ludwig down, and he whispered, "You're leaving me."

That gentle voice had gone as deadly as Gilbert's did when he was livid.

Ludwig must have sensed the storm, for he pulled back, sitting up straight and removing his hands from the table, as if he knew that Ivan was shifting.

And, before Ludwig could speak, Ivan did shift.

He suddenly attempted to stand, was impeded by the cuffs, and Ivan's face contorted in rage as Ludwig leaned farther back. Ivan jerked his fists again, trying so hard to break free, and clearly with the intent of beating the hell out of Ludwig. This time, the bastard couldn't follow through, had to sit there and fume and writhe as his punching bag lied just out of reach, and Alfred found that immensely satisfying.

That look of frustration on Ivan's face as he tried hard to break out of those cuffs and just couldn't.

Ludwig's wide eyes and look of fear, as he lowered his shoulders and sunk down just a bit in the chair, trying to make himself smaller, invisible, in an instilled survival instinct.

Unable to beat Ludwig senseless, Ivan gave one final jerk, a great snarl, and then started screaming, in that awful, shrill, piercing voice Alfred was far more familiar with.

His words were as clumsy as ever.

"You dare! How could you? You can't leave me! I never let you go, you can't! There's no divorce, none, never will be, swear it, as long as I'm—"

Ivan sputtered for a second, and then, like so many other angry men, he gave up on English and reverted back to his native tongue, rattling off a very long tirade in Russian.

As usual, Alfred was happier not knowing. Just watched Ludwig protectively, as Ludwig stared at the table and bowed to Ivan's verbal wrath.

The cop outside kept his arms crossed over his chest, always moderating the situation, and no doubt later on during their paperwork they would get a translator in to listen to this recorded conversation. Alfred pitied the poor man or woman that had to sit through this one and scribble away, as they likely squirmed from threat after awful threat coming from Ivan's mouth.

Toris, who understood everything Ivan was saying, looked positively furious, and that spoke volumes about whatever Ivan was yelling because Toris was so hard to shake.

Alfred opened his mouth, meaning to ask Toris for a translation, but lost his courage and faltered, turning wordlessly back to Ivan. Watching a crazy man screeching and spewing violent vitriol at the man Alfred intended to marry was understandably upsetting. Couldn't wait to see Ivan behind bars. Was gonna show up unannounced like he had once before and sit this time in front of Ivan, staring at him wordlessly until Ivan stalked off angrily.

Couldn't wait.

Ludwig raised a shaking hand up, and pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly quite unnerved and frazzled.

And then, in the middle of that awful shrieking, Ivan suddenly fell silent, hissed, and hung his head down far enough to lift a hand to clench it up in his dirty hair, eyes squinted and teeth grinding.

Ludwig reached out, but stopped short again of actually touching Ivan, and Alfred could see how much hesitating then really hurt Ludwig.

A long moment of Ivan breathing erratically and sharply, hisses and gasps, and then, just as abruptly, it seemed to pass. Ivan opened his eyes, sat up straight, his hand fell back down to his side, and he looked around blearily for a moment before his eyes settled on Ludwig.

As if he were a vehicle sputtering and struggling to fire, Ivan stared at Ludwig and seemed to be attempting to jump start.

Eventually, Ivan swallowed, tried to smile, and finally said, in barely a whisper, scarcely audible, "I'm sorry. What were you saying? I tried...attention, but... My head just really hurts."

No answer—Ludwig just bowed his head, squinted his eyes, and dissolved into tears.

For the first time, the very first time, Alfred stared at Ivan and wondered if maybe Ludwig hadn't really been all that foolish after all. If maybe there actually was something wrong with the bastard.

Didn't want that to be the case.

As Ludwig rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, Ivan just stared at him from across the way, brow low and eyes confused, before finally asking, ever more softly, "Did I do wrong again? You know I never want to make you cry."

That just made Ludwig cry harder, naturally, and beside of Alfred, Toris spat a curse and walked away in a fit of anger. Alfred would rather have followed him, but would wait dutifully for Ludwig, however hard it sucked, although Gilbert had already fired him.

Ha... Yeah, sure.

The cop keeping watch just uttered, under his breath, "Oh, yeah, this son of a bitch is crazier than a bag of cats."

Was that it? Was Ivan just crazy?

Hated seeing Ludwig cry, when he tried so hard all the time to keep it together.

Alfred glanced over, and thought he glimpsed Gilbert swallowing.

The only thing worse than feeling devastated was to watch someone you loved feeling that way, and more than that being unable to do anything about it.

Minutes later, Toris came back, as Gilbert yet glared holes through Ivan even through that two-way glass, and when Ludwig finally gathered up the courage to stand up and walk around the table to lean over and embrace Ivan around the neck, Gilbert spoke.

His voice was soft, gentle, calm. For it, it was the most frightening voice Alfred had yet heard from Gilbert, the most chilling, and Alfred swore he shuddered.

"I want him tested. Take him to the hospital."

For just a second there, Alfred thought that maybe Gilbert was having doubts, too, second thoughts, that maybe Gilbert was also wondering if maybe Ludwig had been right.

But no.

Gilbert straightened to his full height, lifted his chin, attempting to murder Ivan with his eyes, and added, "Ludwig will not get him out of this. Test him. No one is going to walk into that court room and say that there is something wrong with him. He's finished. I won't let him get out of this. Test him."

Alfred's eyes ran over Gilbert for a while, before he exhaled and turned back to Ludwig and Ivan.

Didn't wanna be here.

Ivan just stared at Ludwig, appearing so dazed and bewildered as Ludwig bawled into his neck.

The last thing Alfred heard Ivan say in that police station was a soft question :

"Where's your ring, baby? Did you lose it? ...I'll get another one."

Had never wanted to see proud, stoic, icy Ludwig cry like that.

Alfred went into a bit of a stupor then, zoned out, and time was a momentary blur as his mind shut down defensively. They moved along, he was in a car at some point, and when Alfred came to clearly a while later, they were all walking into the hospital.

Gilbert may not have been the law, but his power certainly had influence over it, and so cuffed Ivan walked placidly between two officers, ready to be handed off over to waiting nurses. Ivan hadn't asked yet for a lawyer, but when the officer had asked Ivan if he would submit to testing, Ivan had just dumbly nodded his head.

What they would test for, exactly, Alfred had no clue. How did you test someone for crazy?

Didn't matter for too long.

Something must have agitated Ivan, because as the nurses came over, Alfred saw his eyes sharpen and brow crinkle, saw that shadow on his face, and braced up.

Just like that, that switch flipped again and Ivan became agitated, irate, angry, violent, and suddenly he was struggling against the officers holding him. Awful screaming, now so familiar, as Ivan tried to barge right out of their hands and to who the hell knew where. Didn't know what the hell was happening in Ivan's head, where he thought he was or why, but he tried very hard then to get away.

Did Ivan really know what was even going on?

The cops leapt upon him, struggled to subdue him, even though he was handcuffed, and the nurses scurried away as Alfred sprinted forward and ran into the fray. Gilbert once more pinned Ludwig to the wall, when Ludwig tried to rush forward in Ivan's defense.

Toris was in there, too, somewhere, and it was ridiculous that four grown men were needed just to take down one angry psycho. It was unbelievable, really, what the human body was capable of in the right circumstances, and Ivan's strength and determination were proof of that.

The nurses came back, one of them holding a syringe, and when Ivan had been tackled to the floor, the bravest nurse amongst them was the one to come forward and attempt to prick Ivan with it.

Not so easy, and she jumped back many times as Ivan kicked out and tried so hard to knock them all off.

Alfred looked over his shoulder, and didn't know what else to do but to screech at Ludwig, "Say something!"

Ivan always seemed to fall still at the sound of Ludwig's voice.

An awful hesitation, a short silence as Ivan raged, and then finally a soft, mournful call.

"Ivan! I'm here. I'm over here. Look at me. I'm here. I won't leave you alone."

As predicted, Ivan suddenly calmed down, fell still, and turned his head in every direction as he desperately attempted to pinpoint Ludwig's location.

After a titanic struggle, the needle was at last plunged into Ivan's arm.

Ludwig's siren call had been just enough, but Alfred hated all the same how thick and trembling his voice had been.

Long, awful minutes, as Alfred kept the tightest grip he could on this insane bastard's neck, and Gilbert was strangling Ludwig about as fervently to keep him still.

No time to relax, because suddenly something shifted again.

Alfred didn't notice at first, because he was so focused on pinning Ivan, but then the nurses suddenly grabbed Alfred and tossed him aside. Alfred, dazed and very confused, sat up against the wall and watched as they once more piled on Ivan.

Couldn't comprehend at first, but when Ludwig writhed in Gilbert's arms and tried desperately to break free as he shouted, Alfred understood—Ivan was suddenly having a seizure.

That awful twitching.

One of these nurses screamed at the officers to remove Ivan's handcuffs, and they scrambled to do so as Ivan seized away there on the hard floor.

Ludwig was hauled back by Gilbert and Toris, suddenly bawling, and Alfred felt as if he had been hit on the head again.

Ah, fuck it, he really just wanted to go to sleep. Was that so much to ask?

Fell once more into the helpless void of space and time, dazed as he was, and just watched from the floor as the world passed on around him. A stretcher came, Ivan was picked up by the officers and four separate nurses, they hurriedly wheeled him away, and that was the last Alfred saw of that huge pain in the ass.

Ludwig had been dragged into a corner by Gilbert, and Alfred turned his bleary eyes over just in time to see another nurse injecting Ludwig with what was very likely a sedative. Someone grabbed Alfred's arm and hauled him upright, pushed him along, and shortly afterwards Alfred found himself sitting in a hospital waiting room.

Almost didn't even remember how he had gotten here.

The world was spinning.

Hours passed, as Toris shoved a coffee into Alfred's hand and tried to drag him out of his stupor. Alfred looked about the room, and saw drugged Ludwig sitting very quietly on a loveseat, Gilbert beside of him, holding him up straight with a hand to his shoulder.

Toris was pacing, restlessly, keeping constant watch over all three of them and looking quite hassled. His always neat hair was a damn mess, had come loose of its tie and was frazzled, sticking out, making him look more like an angry bush than a man.

Everyone looked ready to fall over dead, but there was still business to be done, very important business, and only for that was impatient and cranky Gilbert still sitting there.

More time passed, as Ludwig lifted his head a bit more and seemed to be steadily coming out of his daze. Still fairly calm, for now, thankfully, and Alfred hoped it stayed that way.

The clock ticked, and Gilbert glanced frequently as his watch, foot tapping away.

What was taking so long?

Night had fallen by the time anyone bothered to come into that waiting room and let them in on anything, and Alfred was as pissed off by then as Gilbert was, sore and hungry and tired and scared and everything else.

The door clicked open, and someone came inside.

A doctor, and Ludwig was the first to see him and leap upright to his feet with an inhale, dull eyes clearing up in a second as adrenaline flowed.

Alfred was quick to follow, feeling jittery and terrified. Terrified, because he didn't know what was going to happen. It was wrong, it was selfish, it made him a shitty guy, yeah, but Alfred didn't want there to be anything wrong with Ivan. Wanted all of those tests to be clear, because he didn't want Ivan to have an excuse. Didn't want Ivan to have a chance. Didn't want Ivan coming back into Ludwig's life. Wanted Ivan to just be a bad guy, because Ivan was Ludwig's husband, and if it came down to the wire, if it came time to make a decision, Alfred wasn't sure at all where he stood, what chance he would have, against Ivan. Couldn't look at everything then and say for sure that Ludwig would have chosen him.

Ludwig loved Ivan so much.

Terror.

Gilbert didn't look much happier than Alfred, and he stood up and crossed his arms, glowering at the wall and making it clear that he wasn't at all interested in Ivan's wellbeing outside of the legal ramifications.

The doctor looked them over in turn, and came up to Alfred first. Likely because Alfred was the most approachable in that moment; Ludwig was damn-near distraught, Toris was creepily condescending, and Gilbert looked as if he was a breath away from pulling out a flamethrower and torching the entire hospital and everyone in it.

The doctor, a short little Asian man that looked friendly enough, extended his hand, and said, "I'm Kiku Honda. I'll be one of Ivan's doctors."

Already, Alfred was squirming.

Ivan's doctor? One of? How the hell many were there? That didn't sound good. Made it sound like something actually was wrong with him, like something actually was happening, that maybe that test had shown something after all.

Gilbert's already narrow eyes narrowed ever more, into dangerous slits, and he was probably very close to setting the doctor on fire.

Ludwig took a step forward, and maybe the doctor just knew then who Ludwig was, considering that he was the only one there that looked sad and upset.

"Are you his spouse?"

Ludwig nodded, very eagerly, and Alfred hated it.

...true, though.

The doctor extended his hand in Ludwig's direction, and was quick to say, "Well! I'm familiar with everything now. I've already spoken to the officers. And I do have some news for you. Given the situation, however, I'm not sure if it's good or bad news, so I'm just going to explain everything to you, as best I can."

Ludwig stood straight and tall, chin high and feet braced, and even though he looked ready for business, looked calm and collected, Alfred could see how torn up he was. Was so pale, his pulse pounding away in his neck, and his fists were clenched at his sides to minimize their trembling.

Awaiting his husband's fate.

They all were, really, and each of them had very distinct reasons.

Ivan's health had a ripple effect, and some of those ripples could have been tsunamis.

The doctor finally said, very directly, "Ivan has a brain tumor. Malignant, in the frontal lobe."

Ludwig's awful inhale.

Gilbert's test backfired, and blew up in everyone's collective face.