Despite the harrowing headache that raged within him, Alfred could feel that something was wrong with Arthur. As he had been acting off and defensive and bitter ever since they had left the Globe Theatre, the Englishman seemed reluctant to let Alfred spend another night at his house. Alfred watched the Englishman as he watched the news, watching the story about the Globe Theatre develop: every report was shaky at best: no one from the public was sure of whether it was an attack or an accident, which is what the MI6 wanted.
Alfred felt his heart sink as he watched Arthur's face, unable to tell how he was feeling, was he angry at him?
The headache in Alfred's head worsened as his anxiety deepened.
Alfred stared at the floor, seeing Arthur's cat sit on the couch before him, he couldn't help but smile at the small animal and imagined how soft the cat's creamy and patchy fur felt… The animal stared at him like he knew that something was wrong, that he was concerned and worried.
Suddenly, Alfred wheezed with surprise when the cat jumped onto his lamp.
"OH MY GOD, ARTHUR. YOUR CAT." Alfred wheezed, unable to contain how happy he was at receiving the feline's attention.
Despite his attitude, Arthur smiled at the sight of Alfred internally panicking when his little cat pressed her paws into Alfred's lap.
"Victoria seems to like you…" Arthur muttered.
And then he remembered how that same cat had supported him after he lost Allistor… When Arthur would spend hours staring at a blank wall, consumed in his thoughts, Victoria would pester him and bring him out of his daze. Even when Arthur began to have a nightmare, Victoria's obnoxious meowing would bring him out of his sleep, only to be coaxed into giving her a sweet pat as he waited out the cold nights.
It was as though she could sense grief, and would do all she could to make it go away.
"Arthur…" Alfred muttered, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts, "Are you ok?"
Arthur closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, "You scared me today."
"I know, I'm sorry," Alfred replied as he petted Victoria's head, "but… I couldn't just run away, I heard more kids down there, I had to at least try."
"You had to be a hero, and put yourself in the way…" Arthur finished, knowing exactly what Alfred was going to say, "I admire your heroism, but that was stupid! We were handing out masks right outside the door! I was going to come in and save them with you!"
"But I didn't know how far away you were, and I thought I knew the area!" Alfred added.
"You don't know what that gas could have done to you, or what it is going to do to you!" Arthur spat, his eyes reddening with anger, "you could have come out in a stretcher! I saw someone get held down while screaming bloody murder! People came out in comas and are still in them now! That could have happened to you!"
Alfred found himself speechless, unable to do anything but watch as Arthur's merciless rant continued.
"Don't do that to me, Alfred! Don't be so foolish! I don't want to lose you too! That gas could be doing something to you! What if it kills you? Gives you cancer or gives you some other ruthless disease that doctors can't combat…"
"Arthur…" Alfred whispered.
"Don't! I don't want to lose you!" Arthur pointed out, "don't do this to me; my PTSD is already bad enough. And I can't imagine what's going on with you too, you can't take risks like that, it is so infuriating!"
"We're both messes…" Alfred pointed out as he let the cat jump off of his lap before he rose off of his seat and walked to Arthur's couch, "but we can help each other, right? We can chase away each other's nightmares and hold each other up when we fall."
"Then don't run into the fucking gas without me and without a mask!" Arthur hissed as Alfred slid beside him, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.
"I won't…" Alfred agreed.
"You know what else annoys me? You don't see this yourself but, you are a hero… you are, you saved Washington DC, and you're going to save London as well; I know it. But you can't be a fool while you do it," Arthur explained. "You have a heart of gold; you care about those around you, and will literally: go to the other side of the world for them. But being a hero isn't about carrying people out of gas it's about finding the right way to do it, being smart, and knowing your limitations, as well as having the bravery to do it in the first place."
"Arthur…" Alfred shivered, "come on, I'm no hero…"
"Wrong, you are."
"But I can't save anyone, I couldn't save Matt, I couldn't save anyone else from the Globe, I stuff up, I made you angry… I'm a fucking idiot." Alfred explained.
"You found Matthew, and you did save him. It was Ivan who sealed his fate. Also, if I didn't hold you back, you would have died trying to save Matthew, even he knew this. Also, you led multiple people out of the Globe, that's very heroic." Arthur explained, "Your actions don't determine whether you are a hero, they simply amplify the fact that you already are a hero; because you care."
Alfred didn't know how to respond, however, his burning cheeks spoke for him, making Arthur smile.
"Agent Hero," Arthur muttered, glancing down at the American, whose chin rested on his shoulder, "now, how about you live up to that honourable title?"
Whilst the American and the Brit spent their time together, across town: a Hungarian woman stood in her kitchen, preparing her dinner.
She listened and grumbled with irritation as he listened to her co-worker present the news in her place. Of course, Gilbert explained to her why he had to pull her away from being associated with the disaster at the Globe Theatre: but it did not stop her from being unhappy about it. This was going to be the story that would make her career skyrocket; it just had to be associated with an MI6 case!
However… this fact deeply worried Elizabeta…
Her mobile phone vibrated, catching her attention. Quickly, Elizabeta unlocked her phone and read the message from Gilbert.
On my way home, see you soon. Stay inside.
Elizabeta frowned, but then sighed as she watched her husband's kind and bubbly spirit deteriorate. It had started slowly, but then his frustration and despair only became more and more noticeable. Even his texts had changed, before this case had begun: a simple text like this would involve a whole novel's worth of emoji's that would have Elizabeta giggling like a little girl.
She sighed as she put her phone into her pants pocket.
"News of death resulting from the disaster at the Shakespeare Globe Theatre arise more worries of a terror related attack on London." The news presenter explained as the story was reported as breaking news.
"No…" Elizabeta gasped, imagining how upset Gilbert will be upon hearing the news.
Of course, Elizabeta was upset that she hadn't been told about the danger facing the city, in fact, she still hardly knew of what really happened that day, or what has been driving her husband and brother-in-law towards madness.
But then again, she rationalised, she was a reporter, so anyone within MI6 would be cautious around her.
Deep in her thoughts, Elizabeta continued to stir her food as it cooked in the frying pan, whilst she continued to listen to the developing story.
"The first man to die of the mystery gas has been announced by London Bridge Hospital, an elderly man with known health problems has died following the disaster that befell the Shakespeare Globe Theatre."
"Goddammit, Gil…" Elizabeta hissed, she would have been reporting that!
Suddenly, her phone buzzed again, promptly, she picked it up to check.
Is the door locked?
Has the patrol visited you yet?
Do you know where the panic buttons are?
Elizabeta sighed, sad to see how paranoid her husband had become.
They left earlier, I'm safe, don't worry about me
But then Elizabeta realised, perhaps she hadn't locked the door… She quickly left the kitchen and ran to the front door, she shook the door handle and sighed with relief when she saw that it was locked. But despite this, a pile of fear and anxiety had formed in the pit of her stomach… something felt off. But Elizabeta shook it off, remembering that she is staying in the safe house, she is fine, and no one other than Gilbert and the police knows where she is.
She walked back into the kitchen, and froze… she noticed that the curtains of the window moved to the changing wind conditions outside and Elizabeta couldn't help but shudder, knowing that she had left the windows shut…
She wasn't alone…
Knowing that she was being watched, Elizabeta acted as though she hadn't noticed the change, humming a song as she turned back to her dinner, pretending that she wasn't panicking on the inside. She glanced to the wall near the fridge, seeing the black panic button, which sat just out of her reach… if she could just press it, help would be there within minutes.
Elizabeta couldn't stand it anymore she dashed from the stove to the fridge, reaching for the panic button, however, before she could make it, she was grabbed by her jacket and pulled back towards the stove, and grabbed by the hair.
Elizabeta shrieked, praying that someone was close enough to hear. The man behind her managed to lift her off of her feet and began to carry her through the kitchen as she screamed and kicked like a toddler in a tantrum. As he carried her past the stove, she reached for the frying pan, and attempted to smack him with it. The burning metal of the pan scorched his skin and the force of the blow knocked him back, forcing him to let go of her. Without running, Elizabeta turned to face her attacker, seeing his long blonde locks consume his black gloved fingers as he rubbed his head and groaned in pain. Without hesitation, she smacked him over the head again, before finally turning and running away, smacking her fist on the panic button as she dashed past.
Quickly, Elizabeta ran up the stairs, hearing her attacker chase her as she made a dash for the master bathroom, where she knew that the door would have a lock.
She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing the lock on the door right before the doorhandle began to shake violently and her attacker's body smash into the wood of the door. Elizabeta pressed the panic button beside the large bathroom mirror as she took her phone out of her pocket. Without hesitation, she called Gilbert.
"Someone's in the house!" She quietly hissed as she slid to the floor, throwing her head into her hand as the banging continued, shaking her sanity with each bang.
"I'm nearly there!" Gilbert cried, "Have you pressed the panic button?!"
"I pressed two!" Elizabeta cried, "I'm locked in the bathroom!" Elizabeta shuddered when she heard another loud bang shake the door, "GO AWAY!" She shrieked at the attacker, pretending to be defenceless, knowing that if he stayed long enough to get captured, she will have done something to help... "PLEASE! JUST GO AWAY!"
"ELIZABETA!" She heard Gilbert cry from the other side of the phone, "I'M NEARLY THERE! DON'T YOU DARE GO AWAY! PLEASE!"
She had never heard Gilbert sound so desperate before, she was sure that she could hear him cry… it was a noise that made her heart ache and her hands tremble.
"LIZ! LIZ! PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE OK! PLEASE!"
"Gilbert… please hurry, I've locked myself away…" Elizabeta whispered into the phone, relieved to hear that the banging had stopped…. And red and blue lights began to shine from outside the window.
Later that evening, Alfred tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to handle the dream that befell him…
However to Alfred, he hadn't realised that he had fallen into a deep sleep that would be influenced by his deep anxiety, and fearful events of that day.
Alfred's eyes were wide and fearful as he took deep breaths, feeling the toxic gas take root within his lungs as he wandered down a hallway the led to a black door. Alfred didn't understand why he needed to get through that door, he only knew that the answers to every question that plagued his mind laid directly behind that black slab of wood. The thick gas swam around his feet like a river, consuming his feet like thick, deadly fog.
Alfred pushed the door open and marched in, only to freeze at the sight before him.
The MI6 office had lost off of its colour… It reminded Alfred of an old fashioned movie, where the screen shook and the colours were bleach, except for the vibrant red blood that stained the carpet and the walls.
Alfred shuddered at the sight of the countless bodies that were scattered throughout the office. Yao was hunched over his desk, with an ugly wound to the back of his head, despite this, the mans dark eyes followed Alfred as he passed. Ludwig and Feliciano were on the floor nearby, each with horrid wounds to their chests, and their hands connected… And like Yao, their eyes followed him, watching him with eyes that implied dark intent. Gilbert sat up with blood splattering his chest, leaning his back against the desk that Kiku laid on top of, both watching him like everyone else. Alfred jumped back when the cloud of fog parted before he stepped on someone else… Alfred could almost not believe it when he saw Francis and Ivan laying across from each other, brandishing the same chest wounds that had originally taken their lives… Their cold stares shook Alfred to the core, forcing the American to turn away from them. Only to be confronted by the sight of someone standing with their back to him, it was his light blonde hair that gave him away to Alfred.
"Arthur…" Alfred stuttered, terrified of the sight of Arthur standing in the cloud of gas, not moving, and not responding to his words, making Alfred fear the worst… "Arthur…"
Arthur's shoulders shuddered as the Englishman fell back, as though struck by the signal of Alfred's words. Alfred gasped when Arthur fell to the ground, revealing a grotesque wound that ran across his throat.
Out of every sight that he had seen during his journey, it was this one that made Alfred fall to his knees and grip the Englishman's head, finally staring into that same stare that he had seen within the eyes of every man he passed. It was filled with unnatural hate and anger, staring at him as though he had done a terrible wrong, it made Alfred want to be sick. Alfred could not find the words to say, it was as though the gas had sealed his throat shut, preventing him from speaking. Alfred shuddered when he felt the blood from Arthur's wound slide under his fingernails…
As though another force took control of his body, Alfred's head rose, forcing him to look forward, where a figure stood metres away, staring at the American as he held Arthur's head. Alfred knew that it was him … the kidnapper … he stood tall, as though proud of his work: and challenging Alfred to stop him. He was dressed all in black, and wore a black motorcycle helmet to protect his head.
Without another thought, Alfred rose to his feet and dashed at the figure, only to be flawlessly kicked to the ground, falling on top of a desk, toppling it over.
"You cannot stop me." The voice announced as he attempted to stab Alfred with an intimidating knife, barely missing the American and stabbing the wood of the desk. ""Everything will fall."
"NO IT WON'T!" Alfred cried, finally regaining his voice as he rose from the floor and punched the visor of the motorcycle helmet, creating a crack.
Their fist fight continued as Alfred struggled to fight to regain control of his dream, however he felt the gas take its hold over his body, weakening him to a disadvantage.
The figure took Alfred by the neck and pulled the American into him, right as Alfred took another shot at the figures jaw, knocking the motorcycle helmet clear off of his head, revealing his face.
Alfred froze as his joints fell weak… he could only stare at the figures face with shock and horror as he felt the figures knife stab him in the stomach, sending shivers of pain through his entire body…
"Matt…" Alfred gasped as Matthew let Alfred go, and watched as Alfred fell to his knees from the pain of his wound.
"The answers are all in front of you," Matthew announced as he turned his back to Alfred and began to walk away. Alfred gasped in pain as he crawled on the floor, desperate to reach his friend. "You need to look around you and question what is supposed to be there."
"Matt…" Alfred wheezed.
"I forgive you…" Matthew sighed, "However… your nightmare will never end, and everyone you care about will fall to their knees and scream as the enemy strikes them from behind…"
"Please…" Alfred wheezed as his knees became weak, and the American fell to his side, writhing in pain.
"And you will be all alone…"
Alfred eyes shot open as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, hearing a buzzing noise take him away from his nightmare.
Alfred had returned to a world of darkness, except for the light of a mobile phone screen which lit the shape of Arthur's back as he slept beside him.
Alfred shivered with fear and clutched his sides as he finally took in the horror that he saw in his dream, and was shocked by how composed he was throughout that nightmare.
Finally, Alfred focussed back on the light and lifted Arthur's phone, seeing that he was receiving a call from Gilbert. Alfred frowned, it was nearly midnight… why is he receiving a call from him now?
"Arthur…" Alfred muttered.
Arthur groaned in response as Alfred rolled to lay behind him hooking his arm over his stomach, showing Arthur the phone, whom recoiled at the sudden influx of bright light.
"It's Gilbert," Alfred pointed out, "It'd be a bit weird if I answered."
Arthur muttered something incoherent as he lazily took the phone from Alfred's hand, and answered the call, trying to sound as composed and awake as possible. "Kirkland…"
"Get to Scotland Yard. Now." Gilbert hissed. "We caught a kidnapper."