Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 21! And, well, I honestly don't know what I can say to prepare you. The preview I posted on tumblr, wasn't even half a glimpse into this chapter...

Huge hugs and kisses to Anon-Mau5 (I actually cried at how sweet your review was, I feel like I didn't deserve it), NeahZoldyck13, Elvia Jones, RowerAstronomy and ami-v-dragnire and evilmooshroomcow, who make me burst into a fit of giggles and squeals at their tags when they reblog and like my posts :D

Apologies for the long wait, I ran head first into the infernal brick wall that is 'the writer's block', and I would also like to apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I am lonely and have no beta reader :')

Anyways, please enjoy- well, I suppose I should say- 'enjoy' the next chapter...

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

'He's downstairs in Reina's room. Shaken up but otherwise unhurt,' Allistor said leant up against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched Arthur stiffly pull on his shirt in front of his mirror. 'We'll tell him a cover story while you're out, though I'm not sure he'll believe it.'

The bedroom was dark, the soft pulsing lights of the vibrant city outside not enough to illuminate Arthur's face as he gave a single nod. His face was concrete mask as he stared at his reflection button up the crisp shirt; his hands shook and fumbled with the small buttons.

'Oi, are you sure you're alright lad?' Allistor asked, brows furrowed.

'I'm fine.'

'Maybe you should think this over Artie. You're not exactly in the best frame of mind, and in my opinion you shouldn't even be up—'

'I said I'm fine Allistor, so kindly get off my balls and piss off.' Arthur snapped and didn't turn to watch his brother leave. Instead, he stared at his hands that wouldn't stop trembling before he ran them down his face; the swollen migraine that 'X' had induced was fading with a speed of a dripping tap.

Fuck.

He spun on his heel and stomped into his en-suite over to the sink, snatching the shaving cream off the shelf to begin lathering his jaw. Next came his razor. Arthur picked it up and gripped it tightly, but his hand would not still as he raised it closer and closer to his face. He used to his other hand to try to steady the wrist, but it was too much.

Arthur threw his razor into the basin with a torn screech and gripped it's the smooth rim when he bent forward; head hung, violent tremors rattling his shoulders.

Fuck…

The bathroom door clicked as it opened and closed behind him, and Arthur sniffed and hurriedly tried to wipe his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand.

Columbia, already dressed in one of Allistor's Italian dark three pieces, silently closed the distance to his side, and reached for the razor. A warm hand on his shoulder, the American slowly turned Arthur and tilted his face to him. Behind his goggles, his gaze were sad, and knowing.

'Let me.' He offered softly and Arthur managed a shallow nod, forcing himself to regulate his breaths and tightening his grip on the basin to support his legs that felt boneless.

Columbia shaved his late-afternoon stubble in long, smooth stripes; applying neither too much or not enough pressure; just right, in more ways than one.

'Thank you.' Arthur croaked through a closed throat, unable to match the other's laser-focused stare. The corner of his mouth invisibly quirked. Funny, how loaded those two small words had become.

'I'll always be right there with you, you know that,' Columbia answered, no trace of insincerity in his voice as he lifted the razor away from Arthur and washed it under the tap; the foamy lather lazily swirling down the drain with the trickle of water. 'Your brothers are only worried about you. It's not that hard to understand why.'

Arthur said nothing. He felt like a porcelain vase; overly fragile and brittle. The slightest touch enough to shatter him.

'Arthur? Alfred, Hatter, all of this. It's not your fault.' Columbia reassured, as though reading his thoughts.

'Isn't it?' Arthur doubted, his chest hollowed with the same gnawing emptiness he had felt back in the padded room with Hatter. He was numb all over; as though he wasn't in his body anymore.

Columbia exchanged the razor for a towel and wiped away the leftover lather, leaving Arthur's cheeks, neck and jaw baby soft before he took them between his hands and made Arthur meet his eyes; deep blue, as boundless as the sky, pierced him right to his very core.

'No. It's not. That's something I'll stand by until the end.'

The lump in Arthur's throat inflated twice it's size and his lip began to quiver uncontrollably.

'He had Alfred Columbia. He touched him,' Arthur choked around a sob and the dam broke, and he shook; his heart caving in on itself as fat tears streamed down his red cheeks. 'A-and-and- I couldn't stop him. I-I couldn't d-do anything.'

Arthur's entire frame convulsed and fell as he spluttered and howled; heavy, ugly jagged gasps for air that made his lungs rattle in their ribcage as he broke down.

Encompassing arms pulled him into their warmth and held him strong. Columbia held him as Arthur clung to him like a wailing child, saying nothing about the growing wet patch on his shoulder.

Columbia held him until the shuddering stopped and there were no more tears to be shred, only pulling away when Arthur inhaled a deep cleansing breath through his nose and tapped him to let him up.

'I'm alright now.' Arthur whispered, repeating it when Columbia asked him if he was sure. 'I'm alright now.'

The Brit cleared his throat as he pulled away and made for his bed where his tailcoat lay ready. He wiped away the lingering wetness on his face before he pulled on the formal garment.

'I can go alone if you need me to.' Columbia volunteered quietly, but Arthur shook his head, fixing his cufflinks and smoothing out the creases in his suit.

'I have to go. It's never been more important now that we know Hatter is involved with Wang.'

Columbia nodded and motioned to the door to indicate to go when Arthur held up a finger.

'One more thing.' He said and whilst Bleeding, snapped his fingers to conjure two feathered half masks; a snowy owl and a golden eagle. He held the latter out to the American—who turned away to swap it for his goggles— and donned his own.

Set and dressed, the two regarded the other's appearance appreciatively.

Columbia's perfect teeth flashed as he beamed. 'Man. We look freaking badass! Like, you could be James Bond and I could be Jason Bourne!'

'More like Austin Powers.' Arthur said with a roll of his eyes as they made for the door together. The American was undeterred as he held open the door for Arthur to go through first like a gentleman.

'Okay then, Ethan Hunt.' He bounced back with full enthusiasm and Arthur scoffed at the comparison.

'Not bloody likely!'

'John Wick! I'm totally John Wick!'

And at that, Arthur doubled over splitting his sides, his hysterical laughter only easing up to snickering long after they had left the apartment.

Diamonds District, The Yellow Diamond Theatre, The Ballroom

'Stop fidgeting.'

'Fidgeting? Whose fidgeting. Not me.'

'You've been wiping your hands on your trousers since we got in.'

'I get sweaty when I get nervous, okay?'

'I can see that, just like everyone else when they see you. Just—please at least attempt to keep it under control. Gaul is, unfortunately, rather observant and we don't want to give away anything he could use to exploit.'

'Right. Right. Gotcha.'

Britannia sighed as the lift doors dinged! open onto a walkaway that looked down onto the jewel of the Yellow Diamond theatre: The Ballroom.

The Ballroom might as well have been carved from the world's largest gold ingot; everything in the lofty hall some slight variation of the wealthy colour. Gold were the dual curved grand staircases that led down to the rose-gold dance floor, and white gold was the colossal glittering chandelier that was reflected in it. Low cut dresses and prim suits swayed and mingled lavishly, plucking up champagne glasses provided by waiting staff and engaging in shallow chitchat. Tchaikovsky's 'Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy' was being concluded by the small orchestra on the bandstand at the end of the hall.

Over by the catwalk's railing, Britannia scanned the crowd for the party's host and tapped Columbia—whose mouth was agape with awe that his surroundings— on the shoulder.

'I see him. Dancing with the woman with the bird's mess on her head.' He pointed out and felt the American on his heels as he began to stride for the stairs.

Down on the floor, Britannia ignored the curious stares of the other guests and kept Gaul locked in his sights. He pushed his way to the edge of the ring and waited until the dancers had completed the finishing bars of their dance and separated before he crossed into no man's land and beelined for the information broker.

A skilled businessman of secrecy and notorious philanderer, Gaul wielded his craft's instruments: his devilishly handsome looks and silver-tongue, with proficient mastery. He stood tall with refined posture and presence, holding a natural gravitating confidence about him that was made everyone within range swoon.

The man wore a stylish suit that hugged his moderately muscular form, and a colourful peacock mask framed by his loose, blond curls. Dark indigo eyes turned to Britannia as he drew near, and a coaxed smile curled his lips; his female companion quickly forgotten.

'Britannia,' He purred, already capturing Britannia's hand to press a chaste kiss against his knuckles before the other had even opened his mouth. 'It is an absolute pleasure to see you once again.'

'Hello Gaul. How was France?' Britannia replied with tight politeness, taking back his hand.

Gaul sighed and not so subtly eyed him up and down, clearly approving of the trim fit of his suit. 'Terrible without you by my side, mon Cher. I wept in bed every morning.'

'What must the poor soul who shared it thought?' The Brit batted back with a smirk and the frenchman lowly chuckled as he further narrowed the distance between them.

'Well, let us say just say that I wasn't the only one weeping from a broken heart.'

Britannia rolled his eyes at the melodrama and was brought back to focus by the sight of Columbia hovering at the edge of the ring, his brows furrowed with an irked and impatient line.

'Gaul, we really must—'

'Ah, Pas de Deux. One of my favourites. May I?' Gaul cut off just as the piece's flowing opening notes began and extended his arm in invitation. Britannia glanced around and saw that indeed, the dancers had paired up to begin.

Curse the inescapable rules of etiquette!

Trapped in a hard place, Britannia shot Columbia a apologetic look as he took Gaul's arm and allowed him to be manoeuvred into position; resting his hand on the taller man's shoulder whilst his other hand was taken in his. Gaul smiled like the cat who had robbed the milkman blind, and took the lead, footwork and rhythm perfect as they glided across the floor.

Britannia was embarrassingly out of practice with his waltz, and he scowled in concentration, working hard to recall the movements as to not rely so heavily on Gaul's lead. It was his own downfall, however, when Gaul leant in closer to whisper in his ear and made him jump.

'It truly has been too long since we came together like this. I have missed your company.'

Britannia gave a short bark of laughter as he shook his head. 'You said I was terrible company.'

'Moi? Non.'

'You said I was blunt and scowled too much.'

'Ah—yes, well. It would not kill you to smile, now would it?'

'Wanker.'

'You are so much more beautiful when you do.'

Britannia turn't his head aside when blood rushed to his cheeks. Damn him, and damn that slippery, smooth tongue of his.

'I wish you wouldn't act this way when I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.'

'You don't mean to tell me you aren't enjoying this?' Gaul returned with a devilish smirk, emphasising his suggestive point as he swung Britannia round.

'I assure you, the only reason I came here tonight is purely transactional.'

Gaul's chuckle was closer to a rumble like that of a laughing panther. 'Mon bel ange, you are as cold the mask you wear. The Snowy-owl, the angelic hunter of the night, is a perfect fit for you. Believed to be the totem of clairvoyance, and harbinger of death in some cultures.'

Britannia pressed his lips together and decided to play along; Gaul was clearly enjoying himself too much to himself to pull his business hat on. 'I wasn't aware you were such an vivd birdwatcher. The only connection I would be able to make between you and a peacock is that you are both flamboyant as anything.'

Gaul threw his head back to laugh. 'That, and we both have a love for the finer things in life.'

'I highly doubt that you are referring to their diet.'

'The company they keep, actually.' Gaul quirked a smirk, flicking his eyes down suggestively to Britannia's lips, when over his shoulder, he spied Columbia watching them with a hawk-like intensity.

'Who is the boy toy? My replacement?' He chuckled and Britannia squared his jaw.

'He is not a boy. His name is Columbia, and he has been working with me to find the missing neuroscientists that Yao Wang kidnapped. He is a good man.'

A fair brow rose beneath the emerald feathered mask. 'Mon dieu. I rarely hear such high praise from you. I am not sure it that is well placed, from what I have read he is hardly capable—'

'Columbia is far more capable than you realise. If my mask fits me, then he embodies every quality of his.'

The information broker turned his head and ran a scrutinising eye over the American. 'Every quality you say…I believe that eagles are known to be territorial. They guard what's theirs all-year round,'

Britannia did not dignify him with a response, instead choosing to narrow his eyes as Gaul continued.

'They also have a rather unconventional courtship, in which they clasp talons with their mate and free-fall to the ground, only breaking apart at the very last moment.'

'It's a test of trust. They place each other's lives in the other's hand.' Britannia stated with cool affinity.

'Everything or nothing. A reckless way to gamble.' Gaul scoffed.

'It is about devotion. Mortal danger exposes one's truest character,' Britannia slanted a sly smile. 'Means more than any flaunts of vanity ever could.'

Gaul cocked his head to the side. 'No matter how beautiful the performance?'

'No.' Britannia gritted through his teeth as Gaul's hand slid to support his lower back and dip him, arching his back in an elegant curve.

'You had a different opinion last autumn.'

'A lot of things were different last autumn.' Britannia muttered back as he was lifted back up, and a different light moved behind Gaul's eyes as he further narrowed the distance between them to an intimate proximity.

'You're changed. Someone has changed you,' He said it as a truth, almost wistfully. 'You've found someone to fly with…I—always thought you and I could do that.'

'There— are very few carnivore-omnivore pairings in the animal kingdom that are compatible.' Britannia pointed out and stiffened when Gaul tightened his grip.

'But imagine, mon amour, how beautiful the hybrid between the two would be. One of a kind.' Gaul hummed.

Britannia looked up at him and shifted so that he was not pressed up so tightly against the man.'It'd be a short existence. Hybrids never live long.'

'Not necessarily. There is the Eagle-owl, a species that mate for life. Tell me, is there an Eagle-owl in your life?'

Britannia's gaze flickered over to Columbia for a split second, making his stomach knot over itself. 'No. There is no Eagle-owl. I—I am not involved with anyone for that matter.'

Gaul tutted. 'Do not lie to me Britannia. You are already in free-fall.'

Britannia thickly swallowed, his tongue suddenly too thick, too dry in his mouth, as all thoughts ground to a halt.

He— he didn't know what to say.

His mouth fell open regardless, his brain scrambling to pull together some resemblance of defence, when Gaul bowed his head, and Britannia realised that the dance was over. Blinking as though awakening from a long trance, he distantly felt himself be led back over to where Columbia waited; the hero not-so-subtly glaring at the hand that had not strayed from his hip. The glint of glass caught his eye as a waiter breezed past, and Britannia hurriedly detangled himself out of Gaul's hold.

'Excuse me. I need a drink.' He croaked, and near sprinted after the fleeing waiter, leaving the two men alone.

There was an suspended moment of awkward silence between Gaul and Alfred long after they had watched Britannia disappear into the crowd of partygoers. Whilst Alfred had opted for staring everywhere else but at the man in front of him, Gaul had dropped his earlier charm in favour for a chilled glower.

'So. You are the one known as Columbia.'

Alfred blinked at him before he squared his shoulders back. 'Yeah? What about it?'

'Oh in particular. Just that I was expecting the man chosen by Britannia to have at his side would be just that. A man.' Gaul jeered as he brushed off some imaginary lint on his shoulder, choosing to examine his cuticles instead of watch Alfred's face morph into outrage.

This—this motherfucker. First he ignores him for Britannia—despite them arriving together—and then he has the nerve to start beef with him?

'Excuse me?!'

'I imagine you like to label yourself as a hero, but I ask you, what have you actually done to deserve such a title? You have had no major counts of success. You have no real reputation in the eye of the public. So I ask again, can you truly call yourself a hero?'

Alfred's lips twisted into an ugly snarl and he stepped forward aggressively into Gaul's personal space. 'You got something to say, pal?'

'Clearly, intelligence is not your strong suit, so I will explain it to you in layman's terms. You are not worthy of Britannia. Columbia is a nameless, faceless nobody that has done nothing of consequence to earn the title of hero, and until that changes, you will always live in Britannia's shadow.' The frenchman promised, and sent Alfred stumbling back, wheeling; the frenchman may have well struck him.

He—he was right.

'Gaul!' Both heads snapped to the Brit having emerged from the veiling partiers, his jaw set whilst his dark emeralds darted between the two of them. 'Do not make me regret our agreement before it has even began.'

Britannia glared at Gaul as he stepped away from Columbia and bowed his head in apology. 'Quite right. Forgive me. When you wish to discuss the specifics of the information, when I will be in my office on the tenth floor. Until then, please enjoy the festivities.' He said before he turned tail, and headed for the staircase.

Britannia watched him go before he heavily sighed and tilted his head in recognition when the first bars of Comptine d'un autre été began to play. He turned to Columbia with an extended hand.

'Would you like to—'

'Exactly B, I'm think I'm gonna call it a night,' Columbia interrupted with a small shake of his head, his gaze uncharacteristically dull and downcast. 'You…you go get what we need. I'm gonna go.'

'Oh. Uh, well then I'll call Éires and—'

'Don't worry about it. I need some time to myself. Enjoy the rest of the night.' The American muttered before he mirrored Gaul and turned on his heel for the door, leaving Britannia to stare wordlessly after him.

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence

'Well, it came at a price but we have it,' Arthur announced as he strode into the dimly lit apartment, tossing the small, lilac memory stick over to Dylan sat on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his lap. Over in the kitchen, Allistor and Seamus looked up from slicing and dicing vegetables for the spitting wonk on the stove; the chicken breast pieces sizzling to fill the air with it's mouthwatering aroma.

Dylan reflexively caught it without looking away from his screen. 'Was it a steep one?'

'Depends on what you gauge as steep. Gaul only agreed to fork the data over once I had agreed to allow him to accompany Columbia and I on the mission. Speaking of which, where is Columbia?' Arthur asked with a sweeping scan of the room, unable to see the American who had been so downtrodden the last time he'd seen him. Had he gotten back alright?

A line formed between his thick brows at the uneasy looks his brothers exchanged. 'What?'

'Actually Arthur, Columbia and Matthew went home.' Seamus explained with a pinched expression, almost a wince.

'What!? This—This is our mission, and they went home?.'

'In all fairness lad, Matty did say they had to discuss something important.' Allistor reasoned only to Arthur spin on him and gesture to the memory stick that Dylan was inserting into his USB port.

'More important than this?!' He near-screeched, his chest heaving for a number of beats, before evening out when he realised that he was being unfair; his brothers were as much in the dark as he was.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 'Alright then, fine. We'll just have to comply all the information we have without him. Have all the invites gone out?'

'Gone out, and accepted.' Dylan piped up, and Arthur breathed out with relief before he looked to Seamus, who was sliding the prepped vegetables into the wonk; Allistor ready at the handle to toss it up.

'And the place?'

'All checks out okay. Ally and I will take the stuff over and set up it up tomorrow morning.' Seamus answered as he dusted his hands off and bent low into a marble topped cabinet to take out plates. When the Irishman went to take out a fourth, Arthur shook his head. He had already eaten at Gaul's, and had honestly been looking forward to his bed. Of course, that was completely backwards now that he knew Columbia would not be near to keep away the nightmares.

'Good. Right, is Alfred still with Reina then?' He said, dismissing his feathered mask with a wave of his hand

'He's not here, left with his brother,' Allistor announced and motioned to the staircase. 'Go to bed lad, you look dead on your feet.'

With nothing else left to say, Arthur gave a single nod and dragged his feet upstairs and into his bedroom; dreading the certain, long night of Hatter's terrors that awaited him.

Ar—

Arth—

Arthur!

Arthur snapped awake, cold clammy sweat clinging to his skin, and thrashed against the arms that pinned him down. The room was blindingly bright, his vision spotty.

He couldn't see. He—they—hands wouldn't give.

'Arthur!' Someone shouted over the laughter, highly crazed laughter that was too loud.

Who—who was laughing? Arthur wished they'd stop. They sounded quite deranged. Mad, definitely mad.

'Arthur! Stop it! Arthur!' Another cried—Dylan cried.

Arthur blinked. That was Dylan, that was his face staring down at him.

He blinked again. Seamus, Allistor, his brothers stared down at him in his bed; all equally terrified.

The laughter wasn't coming from them, it was coming from Arthur's own mouth.

Arthur froze, and the manic laughter cut off abruptly; the room eerily silent, save for the erratic pants of the Brit.

Above him, his brothers exchanged looks before slowly releasing their vice grips on Arthur, who hadn't moved an inch.

'Arthur?,' Allistor's voice rumbled, his brow set heavy with concern. 'Are you—back with us?'

'How long?' Arthur heard himself rasp, now painfully aware of how raw and dry his throat was; the last remnants of his laughter echoing hauntingly in his ears. He had sounded completely unhinged. He had sounded like Hatter.

'A hour. You were—like this for an hour.' Seamus shuddered, Arthur only now noticing how pale his face was, how shaken.

Arthur, wrinkling his nose up in disgust, pealed his sweat soaked covers off and shoved Allistor out of the way when a wave of swaying nausea rolled over him. He had just bolted into bathroom and fallen to his knees above the toilet before he'd began to dry heave into it. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as his stomach painfully clenched and unclenched on nothing but acid and bile. When the convulsions stopped, Arthur choked a final time before shakily wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

A glass of water appeared in his peripheral—Dylan just outside it—and Arthur accepted it gratefully, greedily gulping it down to swill down the burning sensation in the back of his throat. From over by the door, Seamus and Allistor stared.

'Something's very wrong with you.' Seamus said, and Arthur glared at him as he set down the empty glass heavily on the sink counter.

'Newsflash dickhead, I've always been fucked up.' He growled back, throat still rough, and the Irishman bristled.

'What's fucked is your head.'

'Seamus!' Allistor snapped, but Seamus wasn't done.

'No! Fuck, I can't! I can't keep pretending to ignore this! It's every-fucking-night!'

'Seamus—'

'No, Dylan! This isn't normal. These aren't his normal nightmares, these are so much worse. He's getting worse.'

'He is right here bitchtits.' Arthur spat, and Seamus stepped froward to square up and tower over him.

'You're sick in the head Arthur. Something up there isn't right, and it's driving you round the bend.'

'The fuck you know about what's happening with my head? None of you are lucid, none of you could possibly understand what it's like!'

'I don't have to be lucid to know a train wreck when I see one.' Seamus growled and Arthur snarled as he threw himself at his brother and socked him hard in the jaw. Seamus staggered wide, and his lips pulled back over his teeth as he prepared to lunge, only to have Allistor bar his path; Dylan mirroring the action facing Arthur.

'Stop it the both of you now!,' Allistor roared, glowering between the two until they slowly began to unwind from their coiled tension to simmer. 'For fuck's sake! What the hell are the other vigilantes going to think if they see that Britannia can't even work with his fucking team?'

'Team? Acadia and Columbia have pissed off, haven't even tried to contact us to tell us what's going on, and you want us to pretend that everything's fine and dandy?' Arthur hissed over Dylan's shoulder, and took an automatic step back when Allistor swirled around onto him.

'There's no "pretend" about it. We are fine, you know why? Because if Oz, or the Nordics, think for even a second that Britannia doesn't have his shite together, then the whole plan falls apart. We don't stop the launch event, 'X' gets to spread in Terra, hundreds of lives get ruined, and Wang has the kidnapped scientists continue to pump out drugs that will make him rich. We have worked too hard, suffered too much to get to this point—to get to this point and let it all fall apart now.'

Arthur forced himself to steady his breathing as his mother had taught him. His fists slowly, painfully uncurled. 'You're right. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves.'

'Aye.' Was the resounding mutter of agreement before Seamus nodded to Allistor to follow him.

'Al, we had better get a start on the studio.'

Allistor returned the gesture and looked between Dylan and Arthur. 'Right. Dylan, finish off the presentation and complying that data. Arthur, go to the med room. Top left shelf, you'll see a orange pill box. Take two and then back to bed. I want at least eight hours from you before tonight.'

'Eight hours? From the acute insomniac? That's cute Allistor.' Arthur snorted with an eye roll, but Allistor was already out of the room, throwing a dismissive wave over his shoulder back to him.

'Eight hours. No moaning. Seamus, let's roll.'

Clubs District, Ivy Avenue, Studio Sage's abandoned Loft

'He's needs help.' Seamus stated as he set down the holo-projector at the centre of the large round table that sat central to the abandoned loft; a dusty, worn down place that it's artist had long evacuated in favour of a newer model; the red bricks walls were still lined by moth bitten old cloth covered canvases.

He and Allistor had done the minimal to outfit the place with tech that would be used to host the meeting; hologram projectors, keyboards, advanced processing hard drive, etc. It was good thing that he and Allistor weren't terrible engineers, because half the tech Dylan had supplied hadn't exactly come with a helpful Ikea manual.

Not looking up from the electrical panel he was rewiring, Allistor made a grunting noise in the back of his throat. 'You don't think I know that? Believe me, as soon as this is all done, I'm restarting his therapy.'

'Oh yeah, because it worked so well the first time.'

'I achieved a first with special honours on my military psychology course. I am qualified.'

'Doping him up on harder meds isn't going to fix anything Al. It's time to consider that are other ways that we can help.' Seamus pointed out.

It was then when Allistor stopped what he was doing to look at him. 'Seamus, I suggest you stop right there—'

'Can't you see that being his fucking doctor isn't cutting it anymore! Look what happened yesterday with Hatter. Arthur needs us there in the field backing him up. He needs Saxony.'

Allistor narrowed his eyes. 'You know why I can't do that.'

'Can't, or won't?'

'Why are you challenging me on this? Saxony can only be Britannia's coordinator, not a field operator. You know that, you know I promised her that.'

Seamus slammed his fist against the table's polished surface, it's thud echoing off the high rafted ceiling. 'Screw the promise! What good is it if Arthur's dead? Because that's what's going to happen if we don't do something.'

Allistor's gaze turned pinched, and Seamus' stomach knotted over as his own fell to the floor.

'I—I'm not sorry. I'm done with sitting on the sidelines, and I know you are to.'

After a long moment of drawn out silence, Seamus breathed again when he saw Allistor give a slow nod and straighten up out of his crouch, dusting off his hands.

'I don't like it, but you're right. Arthur's not going to improve anytime soon, and if there's anything we can to lessen his burden, we have to do it.'

Seamus couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his face. 'So, Saxony?'

'Aye. Saxony.'

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirklands' Residence.

'Bollocks!'

Dylan's head snapped up at follow-up thunder of footfall upstairs, listening to it stomp from overhead toward the stairs. There was the slam of a door being thrown wide and Dylan craned his head back from the sofa to watch Arthur hurl himself down the staircase whilst trying to simultaneously pull on the Britannia suit.

'Dylan! You were supposed to wake me up! The meeting is in an hour!' The Brit shrieked as he tore through the living room for the front door. Surrounded by his coordinator set up, live and ready to go, Dylan shrugged.

'I doubt I could of. Whatever you took knocked you out h-a-r-d. Besides, you desperately needed the hours.'

'Fuck you—Uh, argh! It's already dark out!'

'Allistor and Seamus went to get food by the way. They'll be back in ten—'

'There's no time! I'll open comms when I get there.' Arthur yelled back to him from the inside of the lift as just before it's doors slid shut to take him down.

Dylan sighed and looked at the blinking notification at the top of his screen from Acadia. Oh well, whatever Columbia had to tell Arthur, he'd just have to tell him in person.

Clubs District, Ivy Avenue, Studio Sage's abandoned loft.

The loft's pyramid shaped skylight wasn't too hard to find with the night vision that accompanied Britannia's snowy owl form. Gliding in to landing, he shifted back into his human form with a flash of white light, shredding off all his feathers mid-flight to dive into a tuck and roll; the gravel shifting beneath his boots as he skidded to a stop.

Flying was one of his favourite pastimes, but tonight he had sacrificed it's pleasure in favour for speed. The muscle strain his wings had suffered carried over into his shoulders, but it's ache couldn't of been further from his mind. All that mattered was that he'd made it in time.

Silently, Britannia cracked open the skylight's window—the loft's lighting didn't quite illuminate the whole room—and dropped down into the loft's rafter, prepared to drop again to the floor, when he heard voices below him; two distinct voices, both of which he knew, and one of which made his breath catch in his throat.

'Bloody hell! This place is a right ripper! Good onya Britannia.'

'Yeah. He's awesome.'

A pause…

Britannia daren't breathe.

'What's eatin' ya shelia? I thought you said you wanted this?'

'I do, I do—I just, don't know how I'm going to break it to him.'

'Steady on. You're not getting a divorce mate.'

'Yeah…I know.'

'Hey, win or lose, we're a team now, alright? Guardians! And trust me, Columbia— you are going to be an awesome leader.'

Ha, ah ha. Ha ha...

help.

Thank you for reading and I hope you *wince* 'enjoyed' this chapter. If you have the time, please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always,

Until next time folks...