CHAPTER 47

Alice felt her crust covered, cold eyelashes tremble open.

Unknown faces peered down at her grinning. She tried to mumble something, but the tube in her mouth prevent anything besides "Mhsm whaf whis mfm whf shiiiii." A nurse came up to her and undid the godawful thing on her face, making Alice feel as though five pounds had been shaved off.

"How are you feeling?" A male doctor asked, grey eyes shining.

"…Like shit." Alice mumbled. It was true. Her chest was aching and bandaged heavily; an IV of some sort was pumping into her veins through her arm, and she felt numb everywhere. "How am I still alive?"

The doctor chuckled. "Mr. Vargas made a special request for you, as the doctors at this hospital didn't have the technology to even have an inkling on how to help you. We operated on you just a few hours ago, so you'll be feeling bad for a couple of days, but other than that and a lot of TLC, you'll be just fine."

"Lutz." Alice hissed out from gritted teeth. "What happened?"

The doctor exchanged a look with the nurse. "We don't know for sure. All we know was that we found you and Bieldschmidt in the bakery. Somehow, you made it out without a scratch on you, I mean, besides the obvious wounds. The fire miraculously didn't spread to your side, though it did kill Lutz." His grey eyes softened again. "You're a hero, Ms. Kirkland. The news is going crazy about you. There are reporters everywhere, outside of the Hospital. There's even talk of giving you a medal of Honor or being knighted by the King."

Alice didn't care. "Where are my brothers? My sister? Are they okay? What about Francis?"

"All fine, Ms. Kirkland." The man smiled. "Your siblings are waiting outside. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes." She nearly shouted. "Yes, I want to see them."

"Very good, then." The doctor turned, "Out, out! The lady wants to see her family." The room cleared.

Four heads simultaneously shot up to look at the doctor, three shades of green. "'Oy is she?" Wilma asked.

"Absolutely exhausted," The doctor grinned. "But she'll be fine as long as she's well looked after and not allowed to run around chasing serial killers. She wants to see you." As soon as the last sentence was uttered, the four siblings had disappeared, rushing to get into Alice's room. The doctor chuckled and walked away from the room to give the family some space.

Alice nearly jumped out of her skin as her siblings came crashing into the room, practically tumbling over one another.

She didn't know how to feel, watching as her siblings slowly recovered themselves, wary green eyes watching her. Alice didn't even notice that she was smiling until it was a full blown, painful grin. "So…" She started after about five minutes of painful, awkward silence, "I'm not dead."

Wilma went over to Alice, weakly sobbing and laughing at the same time. "Yer a bleedin leathcheann, yer know dat?"

A laugh bubbled out of Alice's throat, throwing her arms around Wilma's waist. Tears were freely flowing from her eyes, but Alice didn't care. "I'm sorry." She snuggled closer to Wilma, craving the warm and soft heat of her sister. A sob broke out of someone and suddenly Alice was surrounded by arms and her siblings.

"Don't you dare do something so stupid and brave ever again, you hear me?" Dylan cried into Alice's shoulder, hugging her gently but in a firm hold from behind her. "Stupid girl…" Patty and Alistair said nothing, simply cradling their part of Alice in their arms tightly.

"What happened?" Alice suddenly looked up at Alistair. "What happened to you after I…left the house? You know, London."

"Ye mean af'er I kicke' ye ta the streets." Alistair muttered harshly, looking at Alice with an ashamed and bitter look. He forced his sister into homelessness and that was not something he was going to forgive or forget, ever.

Alice tensed. Oh, well. They were going to have to cover this sometime or another. "You were drunker than a bar rat. I can hardly sensibly blame you for something that stupid." The look didn't leave Alistair's face, only intensified. "Besides, I stayed with a friend for a while, so it wasn't like I was homeless or living at work." Any more than I already do was on the tip of her tongue, but she left it there.

Patrick looked at Alice in confusion, "Who'd ye stay with? The wee American shite?"

She scowled fiercely at her brother. "Alfred's not a shite, and no, I stayed with another co-worker."

Wilma snorted, a smirk playing on her face. "The one with the long blonde hair, yeah? He looks like a lassie and talks like a laerd."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Yes, I stayed with him. You didn't answer my last question."

"We don't know." Dylan shrugged. "I think he drugged us or something the night before he dragged us to that godforsaken island. Who was the bastard, anyway?"

"I assume you met Lovino?" Alice grimaced as she watched the expressions on her siblings' face. "After I left England, I became a violinist. I used to travel around the world, mostly Europe, and play for a bunch of nobles at their parties and all that shite. My orchestra was in Italy for a while and I had the oh so fortunate luck of being in a restaurant at the same time that the Vargas Mafia decided to break out in a gun fight."

She took some enjoyment in the looks from her brothers and sister. Just some. "I ended up saving two men, the ones that were in the cell room with you, you know, the blonde stocky one and the little noodle one? Yeah, those two. Anyway, by saving those two morons, I blew Lovino's cousin's cover. His name was Venziano, and he was shot by this sniper in Lovino's mafia. An utter asshole, but not a bad shot." She mumbled an I would know under her breath before continuing. "Venziano's boyfriend basically went psycho after that and stalked me for years before…" Alice looked up guiltily at Dylan. "He arranged the accident in America to get my attention. To get me to come back to England, among other things."

A variety of looks passed through Dylan's face. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Anger. Frustration. Calm. "I don't care." Dylan said, knowing exactly what Alice was going to say before it left her mouth. "Really, it was a blessing in disguise, wasn't it? You wouldn't have come home if it wasn't for–"

"No!" Alice cut him off, eyes blazing with desperation and pain. " Don't you dare say that. I was always coming back. It might've taken me five, ten, fifteen, or even fucking fifty years, but I was coming back."

"Then why did ye leave?" Wilma cut off Alice.

"I had to." She nearly whined. "I didn't want to go. Especially so soon after Papa died, but…"

"…But...?"

"If I didn't go," Her voice felt tiny. "I would have died."

"What!?"

"Just before I left England, I…I had been coughing up blood for a few days and I was constantly feeling like shit." Alice sighed. "I didn't say anything, because the last thing we needed on top of Papa dying and mountains of bills; was someone else getting sick. Besides, there are plenty of things that could have caused me to cough up blood and most of them have a cure, nowadays."

She expected some ferocious scolding from her family, but all that came was Dylan's soft whisper. "This is why you left, then?"

Alice nodded. "The doctor said it was stomach cancer." She ignored she sharp hisses of breath from Wilma and Dylan, and the loud cusses from Patrick and Alistair. "It was still in the early stages, so they could remove the tumor with a high chance of success. I was scheduled for surgery some few months after when Papa would die, so I didn't worry too much. But then it got worse. The doctor that was going to do my surgery here in England had gone to Jamaica for vacation and there were no other doctors in England willing to take me on such a short notice."

She continued, "I looked all over Europe before one doctor in Berlin agreed to take me in as she had a spot open after a patient cancelled on her. That's why I had to leave England so suddenly." Alice paused. "Rehab alone took a lot of time and all of my money, so there was no way I could get back home, yet. I ended up finding a job as concert master in a travelling orchestra, saving up money as I went. Despite playing for the higher-ups, I didn't make much money."

"Until the incident in Italy and the crash in America?" Wilma guessed.

"It took all my money. I had to sell my clothes and wedding ring, too."

Alistair looked horrified. "Wedding ring! Wha' ta bluudy hell did ye have a wedding ring for?!"

"To ogle at all day and pretend that I was married to the King of Portugal." Alice rolled her eyes. "I was going to get married. With my conductor, actually. He was the one that offered me the job as concert master. Of course, it didn't work out, seeing as he couldn't keep it in his pants until the wedding."

"The bastard cheated on ye?" Wilma's expression was a perfect mix of humor and anger.

"Right on the wedding day, actually." Alice smirked. "A little bit after I broke the engagement off, I got a call from Lovino saying that Dylan had had an 'accident'."

Patrick was quiet for a moment before saying, "Ye're an idiot." He sighed. "I can see why ye had to leave for Europe, though I think ye're no as bright as everyone says ye are. Surely, ye had enough money ta call us and let us know that you were all right?"

She blushed brightly, "Fair enough."

"We thought the worst, you know." Dylan muttered quietly, still holding onto Alice from behind her. "We thought you were dead, or were a victim of human trafficking. We didn't know what to think and the police didn't care enough to keep looking after a year."

Alice felt her chest squeeze tightly with guilt. "I know." She unconsciously leaned into Dylan's hold. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Wha' did Pa say te ye, before ye left." Alistair stared intently at her. "Ye promised that, too, ye ken."

Alice felt her breath hitch. Yes, she did promise that. "There's no easy way to say this…"

"And telling us that you had cancer, got shot, made ties with a Mafia, nearly got married, and was stalked by a psychopath was easier?" Patrick snorted. Dylan, Alistair, and Wilma gave him a fleeting glare before turning back to her.

"Yes." Alice grumbled. She said something under her breath, but her siblings couldn't make it out.

"We cannae hear ye, bunny." Alistair scolded her, "Can ye no speak louder?"

"Half." Alice raised her voice, looking positively queasy. "I said half."

"Half-what?" Dylan gave her a pointed look.

…

…

…

"Half-sister."

Alice looked down at her scarred and calloused palms. They were so small. So small and trembling. They were nothing her father's, big and strong and kind. She closed her eyes and remembered.

Alice was the last one to go see Father. It seemed fitting enough, going from oldest to youngest. She ignored the clench in her stomach, listening to Wilma's sobs in the room over. Alice felt like shit. She was fatigued and she hadn't touched food in a little over a day. It hurt to eat. It was even harder to keep the food down.

"He was laying there in the bed. He looked paler than a sheet and his eyes were glassy." She said, "He smiled – or at least tried to – and grabbed my hand."

Fergus' gravelly voice seemed to calm Alice. The pain of the cancer was forgotten, as was the rest of the world. His eyes seemed to gleam but in a tired, anxious way. "Awright, paukit lassie." Alice felt the smallest of smiles cross her face. Every kid had a special nickname. Alistair was 'wee scunner' in an endearing way, of course; Dylan was 'wee lad'; Patrick was 'wee besom'; Wilma was 'wee lassie', and Alice was 'paukit lassie'. It meant 'tiny girl', vs. 'small girl' as Wilma was called. Alice had hated that name for the longest time before accepting that it was just the way her Father did things and that was that.

"Hi, fæder." Alice said, drawing up in a chair near his bedside.

"He…He told me the usual stuff, you know, follow your dreams but have a safety net, that sort of thing." Alice sighed. "Told me he loved me and that if I were to settle down, to give the person a kick in the balls for him." She dared to look up at her siblings' faces. Nothing. Nervousness racked through her as she took another shuddering breath and continued. "Papa said that…he and Mum were arguing a lot about whether or not she should continue to work. Mum said that if she didn't, their debt would sink them even deeper into the hole. Papa knew it was true, but thought that it would be better for her to stay with you guys at home because of how poor her health was."

"I remember that." Dylan said softly. "They always tried to keep it hush-hush around us, but I remember that sometimes it got out of hand."

"One night, it got so bad that Mum just plain stormed out of their apartment in Dublin." Alice continued on, "She got wasted and met this man. He was just as wasted – if not more – than her and had also gotten in a fight with his lover. They…" She couldn't find it in her to say the words. "Anyway, Mum found out that she was pregnant and Dad found her sobbing in their bedroom. She told him everything and he was so furious, he said. Not at her, Dad said. But at the bastard who obviously slept with a married woman when he was not only taken, but that Mum was completely wasted, too. It didn't take him long to track down the man."

At this, Alice left out a bitter laugh. She didn't notice she was crying again until little, nearly invisible, clear drops dripped down onto her hospital gown. "The man made a bargain with Papa. He would pay for all of Mum's future hospital bills and pay off a quarter of their debt and take the baby with him back to his home somewhere in Southern Europe or whatever. Mum signed the contract before Papa had even heard about it." She snorted, "He was so mad at her for that he didn't speak to her for a week."

"Aye, I remember it." Alistair said.

"He kept to his deal right until Mum died." Alice muttered, "He paid all the hospital bills and even took her to the best hospital in London. He needed an heir, or something, as he was probably an aristocrat telling by his clothes, Papa had said. And he paid the quarter of their debt, just as he promised. But…"

"But?"

"Well, clearly, I'm still here." Alice raised an eyebrow at them. "…My real father didn't want me. And really, could you honestly blame him? Don't give me that look, Willy. The doctors thought I was going to die in a matter of days, maybe weeks if the Gods above were feeling particularly cruel. And besides, there was a healthier and stronger boy he could take, instead." A round of shocked, chocked, and gargled noises came from her siblings. She blushed.

"I have a twin brother." Alice shifted, nervously. "Or, at least, had. I don't know what happened to him. I have no idea what his or my father's name were or was, so I have no idea who they are."

"Ye ken who yer father is, Bunny." Alistair hissed at her. "Yer father is our father, not ta fuckin' bastard who abandoned ye because ye are a girl and ye nae always in good health."

"Besides, it was a good thing he thought ye were going to die." Wilma smirked. "I doubt ye'd ever be a good princess and even if yer not related to us by Kirkland blood, ye're still as every bit of Kirkland as the rest of us."

Patty snorted. "Just goes to show ye that family isn't made out of blood, but bonds." They stared. "What?"

"That was surprisingly…" Dylan started.

"Deep." Alice offered.

"Especially from rough an' tumbling Patty, eh?" Alistair smirked, taking one arm and raking in poor, unsuspecting Patty in for an arm lock and then a noogie.

"Oi!"

Through the shouts and the rapidly accumulating fight (really, it was surprising that they had gone this long without a fight) between two Irish twins and one Scotsman, Dylan's hand reached out and firmly held hers. "Rydych yn ein chwaer ni waeth beth ac os oes gan rywun broblem gyda hynny, bydd yn rhaid iddynt wynebu pedwar Kirklands ddig."

She smiled and held his hand tighter. "Diolch."

Translations:

Leathcheann = Idiot.

Rydych yn ein chwaer ni waeth beth ac os oes gan rywun broblem gyda hynny, bydd yn rhaid iddynt wynebu pedwar Kirklands ddig. = You are our sister no matter what and if someone has a problem with that, they will have to face four angry Kirklands.

Diolch. = Thanks.