"Honestly, Alfred, I think you're being a tad dramatic."

Alfred looked up from his seat on the curb in front of the DMV, hands folded over the mess of paperwork crumbled in his lap, and stared at Arthur. "But Art," he whined, "This is the second time!"

Arthur sighed, lent over, and dusted the curb uselessly. Trying to ignore how dirty it probably was, he sat next to Alfred. "Well," he said, "Maybe if you didn't insist on going so bloody fast, they would be more inclined to pass you."

Alfred scrunched his nose. "I do not drive that fast," he said. Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. He was not sure which was worse – just how recklessly Alfred drove, or that he truly didn't seem to realize it. "The speed limit is not a suggestion," said Arthur. "Honestly, Alfred, I've been trying to hammer that into your skull since the moment we started."

"Everyone goes five over!"

"Five, maybe. Not fifteen." Arthur stared at Alfred pointedly. "And certainly not during the exam."

Alfred opened his mouth as if to protest but said nothing. Instead he took a breath, shoulders deflating, and stared at his shoes. He had been wearing those red sneakers so long tread had worn flat. "I turned sixteen a month ago," he said as if it were decades. "Seriously, Arthur! What am I supposed to do when I'm the only one on the team without a license?" His eyes widened. "What if I NEVER get it?"

Arthur tried to scowl but ended up grinning instead. Alfred certainly had a flair for the dramatic. "Oh, for crying out loud. You've taken the blasted test twice, and you act like it's been two hundred times. Plenty of people need to retake it."

"How many times did you take the test?"

"Once," Arthur said and then quickly added, "because I always make sure to be careful on the road. They don't just dole out licenses to any maniac, you know." Alfred said nothing, and Arthur softened his tone. "Lighten up, will you? I'm positive you'll pass it next time around. You just have to be a little more careful."

"Careful," Alfred parroted, still staring intently at his shoes. "Got it."

Arthur turned from Alfred to look at nothing. In a way, it was irritating – this hardly that big of a deal. But he knew why Alfred was pouting. He was not used to losing, even if it was the smallest thing. He excelled in everything he tried and to fail was to end the world.

"Hey, Arthur?"

Arthur turned back to Alfred and waited.

"I just wanted to say thanks," said Alfred. He smiled. "You know, for teaching me and all that."

Arthur chuckled humorlessly. Yes, he supposed Alfred was able to at least locate the turn signals now thanks to him, even if he forgot to use them half the time. Despite Alfred's eternal stubbornness when it came to driving, Arthur could not help but feel he could he done a better job teaching him, considering the situation. But he would never tell him that. "Please," he said. "All I did was let you take us around the neighborhood once or twice."

"Still," said Alfred. "It was more than my old man bothered to do."

"I… suppose." Arthur cleared his throat, uncomfortable. He still wasn't sure exactly what Alfred's relationship with his father was, but judging by the fact that Arthur hadn't so much as seen him before, he couldn't make many optimistic assumptions. "Maybe he was worried you would kill him," he said. "Lord knows I was."

Arthur had expected Alfred to laugh, and immediately felt bad when he didn't. "Am I really that bad?"

"No," said Arthur quickly, immediately. "No, Alfred, you're not that bloody bad. I was only joking."

Alfred straightened up. "Well, I need my license by the fall, definitely."

"That's quite a ways away. I'm sure you'll have it by then," said Arthur. "What's in the fall?"

"I mean, you are graduating, aren't ya?" Alfred tilted his head and looked at Arthur with unblinking eyes. "Where did you say you were going to college?"

And then, Arthur was hit with the sudden, obvious realization that Alfred intended to visit him. Well, of course he did. Alfred was Alfred. But Arthur had hardly even thought about soon he was leaving, not to mention what it would be like when he did… He let his mouth fall agape, shook his head lightly. "Oh, Alfred, no," he said. "You need to focus on your studies. I can't have you driving all over for creation for something so silly."

"Silly?" Alfred sounded incredulous. "What am I supposed to do, never see my best friend again? That ain't happenin', I can tell you that much right now."

Arthur forced himself to speak through the lump rising traitorously in his throat. "There you go again with that dramatic nonsense. No one is leaving forever, Alfred. University has breaks just like high school does. I'll be back."

"Well, fine. But you have to at least let me come up for a weekend or something once in awhile."

Arthur just nodded, long since given up on ever arguing with him. He had the good sense to know that Alfred was going to do whatever he wanted, regardless of what anyone told him. And Arthur secretly admired that about him. Really, the thought of Alfred listening to him for once and not visiting him at university was horribly depressing.

What Arthur neglected to tell him was that he was about one bad grade away from getting his admission revoked, because he could never seem to concentrate on his work anymore. Everything was just too loud and too annoying, more so than usual, and Arthur was tired. No one ever shut up and it was terribly distracting. Everywhere, from school to his home to everywhere in between. It was just so loud.

Must have been burnout, Arthur told himself.

It had to be.

.

When Alfred found himself deep in the south just two days before he was supposed to be visiting Arthur in the northeast, he couldn't say it surprised him. 'Tis the life of a star, he guessed. Between press conferences, practices, paid appearances, photo shoots, and lord knows what else, he was swamped in the pre-season chaos.

But it was okay. Alfred was used to it, after all. Besides, it didn't matter if he was on the other side of the country, a different country, the middle of the Atlantic, or on the surface of the goddamn moon. A promise was a promise. Alfred was getting to Arthur by week's end no matter what.

"Leaving?" Davie blinked. "Jones, opening day is just a couple weeks away. It's hardly a good time for a vacation."

"Vacation?" scoffed Alfred, almost offended. "Coach, you know the situation. It's no vacay. Besides, I'll be back in a couple days."

"You expect to make it to New York and back in a couple days?" Davie crossed his arms over his chest. "What if your flight gets delayed?"

Alfred tipped his head. "Flight? No, dude. I'm driving."

Davie's eyes all but bugged out of his head. "That has to be a fifteen-hour trip each way, at least! Why in the hell wouldn't you fly?"

Alfred shrugged, unaffected. "I get too much attention at airports. Besides, I like road trips."

There was a pause, a long moment of eye contact that Alfred smiled through, and finally, a resigned sigh. "You're crazy, Alfred." Davie shrugged. "But I can't say you've ever let me down."

A swell of pride bubbled up in Alfred's chest. "Hey, I try."

"I sure hope so," said Davie. He clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder, a firm, fatherly gesture. "Because you still have community service left to do when you get back."

Alfred grimaced. Of course. "Forgot about that," he mumbled, but smiled soon after. "I'm on top of it, Coach!"

"Atta boy." Davie drew his hand back. "How is he doing, anyway? Arthur, right?"

Alfred was surprised by how much just hearing the name affected him. Hearing it on the lips of his coach and long term mentor somehow made all this all the more real, all the more present in his life. He swallowed hard to aid his dry throat. "He's… hanging in there," said Alfred. As he finished, the alarm on his Rolex buzzed once. It was already mid-morning; he had to leave. "I'll let you know when I get back."

Davie nodded. His eyes caught the high sun, casting shadows against the wrinkles in his forehead and the early wisps of grey in his hair. For just a second, he almost looked old. "Have a good trip."

Alfred nodded, straightened his watch, and gave a short wave before turning to leave. His back was turned when he heard his coach's voice again.

"Hey, Alfred?"

Alfred turned, squinting against the sun, and raised his eyebrows.

"Be careful, okay?"

For a moment Alfred just stared, a bit taken aback. He wondered where that had come from. He had heard a lot of encouragements from Davie, from 'go get 'em' to 'show them your worst' to 'you've got this,' but never 'be careful.' It sounded out of place. But maybe Alfred was simply thinking too hard… he'd been doing a lot of that lately.

"Yeah," he said. "Of course."

.

Kayusha gingerly moved her foot in small circles on the floor. Her eyes felt gritty, her body too heavy. The first plane ride had stiffened her back and the plastic chair in the terminal wasn't helping. She managed to focus her gaze on the large departure board, but immediately wondered why she bothered. DELAYED had switched to CANCELLED half an hour ago, and judging by the speed of the rain against the window, it wasn't changing back anytime soon.

"What does it say?" said her sister in Russian. Katyusha pursed her lips. She realized she spoke more English than Natalia, but this was the sixth time she asked. At this point, it was out of misplaced hope rather than an inability to read the language.

"I told you, it is cancelled," said Katyusha.

Natalia did not respond. Her jaw tensed, the tiny movement illuminated by a flash of lighting. Her white-blonde hair was stringy against her cheek, falling limp against the dress she had been wearing for too long. Her arms and legs were crossed too tightly and her eyes were far off.

Katyusha took a heavy breath. She couldn't blame her sister for being frustrated. Though their flight should have taken no more than eleven hours, a distinct lack of funds had forced them to take a ludicrous connecting flight scheduled hours after their first one had landed. Now, when the sun had long since disappeared and any sense of excitement over being in the states for the first time had been overshadowed by the need to just get there, they were hopelessly stuck in a state Katyusha had forgotten the name of already. The wrong state.

Ivan was at least another thousand kilometers away.

"They said they would find us another flight for tomorrow," said Katyusha uselessly. "When the weather clears up…"

"Who knows when that will be?" Natalia practically spit the words. Katyusha opened her mouth to scold her sister's usual negativity, but after glancing out the window again, she could not find the words. It was the kind of rain that looked endless. Natalia softened her voice. "Ivan's therapy is tomorrow."

The rain seemed to get heavier. Katyusha followed a single drop down the glass of the window, watching it zig-zag until it dispelled into a puddle. Something had always been… wrong, with Ivan. She couldn't say she understood it beyond a surface level, from his meltdowns to his clinginess to his childlike view of the world, but would it really make a difference if she did? She had failed her job as a big sister the moment she allowed Ivan to travel across the world by himself, knowing full well how it would end.

Katyusha knew Ivan needed them. He had needed them when he moved to America to begin with, needed them when he stopped calling, and needed them when he finally called again. When Ivan finally did call, it had taken everything in Katyusha not to sob in relief. He might have been in the hospital, but damn it, she knew where he was. For the first time in months, she knew where her baby brother was. Living. Breathing.

She wanted to hug him and never let go just as much as she wanted to wring his neck. Katyusha could not fathom why Ivan had kept everything from them for so long, only to unload it all in one breath with a midnight phone call. But that was just who Ivan was. Everything was always fine until it wasn't, and then suddenly nothing had ever been right.

"Katyusha."

Katyusha blinked away her monologue and looked back at her sister. Natalia was staring at her, arms and legs still crossed, waiting.

"Maybe…" Katyusha ran through every option they had, just as she had five times already. Really, they had no options. As far as she could tell, they were utterly stranded. She forced a smile. "We should eat something."

.

The airport was suffocating so Katyusha opted for a questionable diner just down the road. It was not quintessentially American like she had seen in pictures, all red vinyl and black and white checkers, but rather a generic wash of beige and blue. It was attached to a gas station. Before coming to the states, at least some part of Katyusha had expected something more magical.

But Natalia never expected anything to be magical, and perhaps that was for the best. She picked at the dish they had agreed to split, some meat and cheese monstrosity that could probably feed both of them for a week. Neither of them had eaten much. "Why did we walk here," she said. "Both of us are soaked now. We could have stayed inside."

Katyusha opened her mouth only to close it again. This was not the bright spot in their day she has hoped for. There was no reason to run out in the rain for the sake of mediocre food, other than maybe a change of scenery, and she had failed in even that aspect. The rain against the windows of the restaurant was just as monotonous as it was in the airport, the air just as stale and the lights just as dim. Not to mention Natalia was no happier than she was, they were no closer to Ivan, they didn't really have the money for this, this whole idea was stupid, stupid…

"Dude, this rain is crazy!"

The voice exploded through the near-vacant restaurant. Katyusha blinked, startled, and looked behind her shoulder. A man stood in the doorway, soaked and beaming. His words were meant for no one and everyone at the same time. Drops of water flew off hair too yellow to be real, rushed down worn leather and fogged glasses. A waitress stared, then smiled. Katyusha just stared.

"Got a table?" the man continued, either ignorant to the emptiness of the place or just ignoring it. His eyes flitted to Katyusha's. Without breaking his grin, he waited a beat and said, "Never mind. I'll just sit at the bar."

Katyusha stiffened. She looked away from him, down to their discarded carry-on bags slumped beside their seats and weaved a foot through the strap. Natalia continued to stare at their now-cold plate and Katyusha really wished she would pay attention. The strange man was approaching; no one else was here. This had been a stupid, stupid idea. Her worst yet.

"Some weather."

The man was next to her now, looming in a barstool too close to their table. He settled in the seat with a sigh and the squeak of wet sneakers. He swiveled the chair in their direction, just enough to notice. Katyusha said nothing.

But he continued to speak. "Man, this really is the middle of nowhere, huh? I must have driven fifty miles before I could find so much as a gas station. I almost ran out. Can you imagine, stuck out here with a broken-down car? What a disaster!" He flagged down the bartender and ordered a cola, doing so with a chuckle and another easy quip.

Katyusha loosened her fingers, one at a time. She understood about half of what the stranger was saying, and he spoke loudly, too loudly, but he kept his distance. She wondered why he was speaking to her. Maybe this was simply how Americans operated, forcing conversation on complete strangers, commanding attention, expecting friendliness from everyone.

For a strange moment it reminded her of Ivan.

"I'm just glad I found a place to stretch my legs and eat something, even if it is a little dumpy," he said. Katyusha watched from the side of her eye as he shrugged off his jacket and rested his elbows on the counter. His hand hit the surface with a metallic clink, the stones on his ring reflecting off the florescent lights. The gaudy piece of jewelry engulfed his finger.

Natalia spoke before Katyusha could gather her thoughts. "Who are you?"

He blinked, cocked his head, but quickly regained his boisterous composure. "My name is Alfred F. Jones!" Why he felt the need to announce his full name, Katyusha had no idea. But it was kind of entertaining. She let the strap of her bag fall to the floor. "And yourselves?"

Katyusha let herself speak. "I am Katyusha," she said, careful to annunciate. "And this is my sister, Natalia."

Natalia gave her foot a nudge that was almost a kick, but Katyusha ignored it. What was the worst that could happen, really? They were already stuck, soaked, and near penniless. If divulging their names to an eccentric stranger was what truly sent this trip into chaos, it would merely be the straw.

"Huh, okay. Not from around here?"

"No," said Katyusha, ignoring Natalia's pointed stare. "Russia."

Alfred's eyes widened behind his thin wire frames. "Wow! That IS quite a ways. That's, like, totally awesome."

Katyusha almost laughed. Russia may have been home, but sometimes it hardly felt that way. She never liked the cold. And ever since Ivan had left, it seemed to only get colder.

"What brings you guys to West Virginia, then? It's not exactly a tourist state."

So that was the name. "We did not… plan, to be here. There was delay. With our flight." As if to make her point, a crack of thunder nearly raddled the table.

Alfred whistled. "Shit. That sucks. Can't say I'm surprised, though. Flights are getting cancelled left and right thanks to all these storms." A bead of water dripped from his collar to his jeans that he brushed away uselessly. "Good thing our first game is down south. Nice and dry there"

Katyusha blinked. "I am sorry? Game?"

Alfred blinked back. His brow creased and Katyusha wondered if it was a stupid question. But he smiled again, almost laughed, and said, "Football. I play for the New England Patriots."

Oh. Katyusha took a moment to study his jacket, the letter and the logo, the ring on his finger that must have cost more than their house. It dawned on her that perhaps this man carried himself like a big deal because he was. "I see," she said.

"Yeah. No games for a couple weeks, though," said Alfred. "Right now I just need to focus on getting to New York. Feels so far away."

"New York?" Katyusha may not have been versed in many of the U.S States but she knew that one. She knew it from the hours she had spent researching, pouring over airlines and flight times and hotel fees, from the moment Ivan had called to the moment she and Natalia had boarded the first plane. Far away was an understatement. Ivan might as well have gotten himself hospitalized on the moon. "What is in New York?"

"Oh, just…" Alfred must have ordered food at some point because a plate had appeared in front of him. He studied it, twirled a fry in the ketchup. "A friend," he finished. He popped the fry in his mouth and laughed again, drier this time. "You know, it's funny. Artie said one of his roommates is Russian."

"Funny." Seems all Katyusha could do was parrot. She took a sip from her previously forgotten glass of water, a fruitless attempt at soothing her suddenly dry throat. She scolded herself for being silly. "We are also going to New York."

"Wow, really?" asked Alfred. Katyusha nodded. "Huh. Weird. Are you guys on vacation? New York has some cool stuff. I went to high school there, actually."

Katyusha wrung her hands, folded them together. "No, not really. We are visiting our brother."

"Cool. Does he work up there? Go to school? Or – "

Natalia cut in sharply. "He is in hospital." She shot Katyusha another look, and again Katyusha opted to ignore it.

Alfred's face fell straight. "Oh." He picked up another fry and ran it through the ketchup but didn't lift it to his mouth. He just kept dragging it along the plate, creating greasy red lines, eyes far off. "Sorry to hear that." He let the fry drop and picked up a new one. "You know, this is getting way too weird."

There was no way. It hurt Katyusha's throat to swallow. "How so?"

"Arthur is in the hospital. I'm on my way to visit him." The words were slow, calculated. Alfred abandoned his food completely and turned just slightly further towards them. "Bellevue, near First Avenue."

Katyusha felt a zing of dizziness, of disbelief. "Oh," she said. Speaking English was much harder than it was a moment ago. "Oh. Ivan…Oh, Ivan is also…"

"You have GOT to be kidding!"

Alfred slammed the counter so hard Katyusha jumped, knocked her glass and sent icy water sputtering everywhere. She rushed to pick it up and Natalia cursed under her breath, but she was not scowling anymore and Katyusha knew she was listening now. The three of them had come to an understanding, one so absurd that she could not even say anything, because what was there to say really?

"He mentioned an Ivan," Alfred let the words run together in an excited jumble. He laughed, loud and manic, raising a hand to rest on his forehead. "Dude, no way! That's crazy!"

"Yes," said Katyusha. "I…"

"You know what? You said your flight was cancelled. Let me take you." Alfred pulled his damp jacket back on with incredible speed. "Driving so long kind of sucks, but if I go all night, we can probably make it by morning."

Katyusha slowed her rapidly beating heart with her first rational thought this evening. This was a stranger. It was almost too cliché, really… a strange American man tricking two foreign girls into thinking he was a big name with good intentions, only to leave them dead in a ditch five miles down the road. Surely, it would not have been too hard to find out where they were going, to fake this "coincidence." To accept was the kind of foolishness she would have scolded Ivan for as a child. Like the time he disappeared with the neighbor without telling anyone, and it had taken Katyusha hours to find him again.

Funny, Katyusha mused to herself, Ivan had always avoided him after that.

Realization hit like a tidal wave and for a moment Katyusha thought she might throw up on the table. Two and two snapped together, violently, suddenly, as she remembered the phone call.

I was very young, Katyusha…

Natalia was saying something but it might as well have been gibberish.

He hurt me…

Alfred was saying something but it might as well have been gibberish.

"Natalia, we need to go. Now," said Katyusha in Russian, her head buzzing because she suddenly knew who he was and it was sitting like a boulder in her stomach. "Alfred is going to take us to New York."

Natalia gripped Katyusha's hand too tightly as she stood but she felt nothing. "What?" she said. "We do not know this man."

She was right. This man could have been anyone, he could do anything; it was completely out of their control the second they got in a car with a stranger. But Katyusha had failed Ivan enough. He had been traumatized practically in front of her eyes, and it had taken decades to notice. Not only that; he had to spell it out for her.

Katyusha ignored the strong urge to be sick and picked up her bag. She would get to Ivan, or die trying. "Please, Natalia," she said. Alfred was waving a gold credit card at the waitress and before she knew it their meal had been paid for. "You need to trust me."

So she did.

.

Alfred drove at a speed that was certainly too fast for the conditions. His windshield wipers moved like hummingbird wings, and it barely made a dent in the rain pounding hard enough to completely drown out the radio. Still, he kept a steady foot on the gas and simply gripped the wheel a little tighter. New York, New York was a little less than eight hours away, according to the GPS on his iPhone. Alfred took that estimate as a challenge. After all, he had three people to get there now.

"So," said Alfred, practically yelling over the rain. "What is your brother in for?" he asked and immediately felt bad for it. "You know, if you don't mind me asking."

"Is alright," said Katyusha. Alfred glanced in the rearview to their spot in the back. He wished he had taken his more practical car – Katyusha's height forced her to draw her knees almost to her chest. "Ivan is…" A pause. "Ivan is troubled. I do not understand, really."

"He is crazy," came Natalia's rare voice. Katyusha said something quickly in Russian, but Natalia continued over her. "What? There is something wrong with him. We have known this forever."

"I suppose." Katyusha spoke quietly. The end of the word faded into the storm. "I noticed a bit, when we were younger. I just never thought…" she trailed off again.

"It's okay, really. Like, I get it," said Alfred quickly, if only to end the horrible silence. "If it makes you feel any better, me and Arthur were best friends in high school. I never had any idea anything was wrong."

At least, that was what he had been telling himself up until recently. Over the weeks, when Alfred had nothing but long stretches of highway to look at and the four songs they played on the radio got old, he got to thinking, got to remembering, and saw the signs. The coffeeshop. His fever. Arthur's strange sideways glances and did-you-hear-that's. They were so small and hindsight bias was a bitch. But they were there.

To his surprise, Natalia was speaking again. "Ivan scares people," she said. The edge on her voice had softened. "He does not make friends easy. He is intense. Sometimes, he will cry and shout. He has always been this way."

Alfred glanced back at them again. Katyusha blinked a few times, then bit her lip. "Yes, but…"

A flash of lightning. "I knew, Katyusha."

"Hey! Um," said Alfred quickly. Almost unconsciously, he pressed the gas the slightest bit more. "Either way, it's really cool of you guys to come all the way up here to visit him. That trip must have sucked, right? Flying is always such a pain, with security and everything." He was talking just to talk and he knew it, but it didn't stop him. "I can't do airports, too much attention. There was this one time…"

As he jumped into a story no one cared about, Alfred realized he needed to change lanes. Giving the car a bit more gas, he gave a halfhearted glance towards his blind spot, and, still speaking, began to turn the wheel. Simultaneously, he moved his hand to signal.

Alfred was cut off mid-word by the horrible shriek of a horn, and only then did he realize that a car in the other lane was dangerously close to his own. Gasps came from the backseat and a sting of panic struck his chest. For a second the world froze, but by the grace of God, he came to his senses fast enough to jerk the wheel the other direction. With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, Alfred was back safely in his original lane. They would miss the exit. Somehow he wasn't worried about it.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, immediately. He searched for a reason to blame the other driver but decided he respected all three of them too much for that. "I wasn't looking. That was totally stupid. Are you guys okay?"

A pause. "Yes," said Katyusha, a little shaky but otherwise sincere. "We are fine."

"You need to be careful," said Natalia. Alfred could almost feel her eyes through the leather seat. He felt his face burn, almost irritated, but deep down he knew she was right.

"More careful," parroted Alfred. "Got it."

Alfred gave a disparaging glance towards the GPS, then the horizon. The highway stretched in front of him looked endless, even more so than normal. Seven and a half hours. Seven and a half hours until he could see Arthur, seven and a half hours until Katyusha and Natalia could see their brother. He had already been driving for six and it might as well have been a lifetime. They had missed the turn off, which would only make it longer… if this were any other trip, Alfred would have kicked it up past 90.

Reluctantly, he eased up on the gas.

To be continued...

AN: So, this is the first chapter I've written since The Great Hiatus, and admittedly, this... is not the chapter I would have rather made my comeback with. If I'm being quite honest, part of the reason I stopped writing for so long is I felt like this story got stuck, and I knew I had to bridge the gap between the interesting bits with some, for lack of a better term, filler. Even better, my outline for this story got junked with my high school ipad, so I don't have my exact plan for the plot anymore. This is especially problematic as the hospiverse stories obviously all connect and figuring out what-happens-when in relation to everything else is a headache. Rest assured, I'm working on a brand-spankin'-new outline, one that I hope will be better than whatever I came up with at 17. Thank you all again for supporting me, and thank you, of course, for the patience. Hopefully, with what I'm working on, it'll be worth it.

- Emily