What's in a Name
Chapter Nine
Fire. There was fire and lots of it. He could hear voices screaming for help and the echoes of breaks screeching in his ears. Blood stained his hands and the ground surrounding him, trailing up to that figure who was be crushed. His leg was hidden under the car. He could hear someone calling.
"-fred! Alfred!"
Alfred woke with a start. His head was agony from where he had hit the floor causing stars to flash in his vision when he opened one eye cautiously, finding England staring down at him from the bed looking strangely concerned.
"Morning." Alfred yawned, not moving from the awkward position he had woken up in.
"'Morning' he says." England rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "How on earth did you manage to tip yourself off the chair and end up like that?" He waved his hand towards Alfred's legs which were leaning on the seat of the chair, his feet dangling off to either side. "You must've been having one heck of a nightmare."
"Who said I was having a nightmare?" Alfred questioned, flipping himself into a sitting position on the floor.
"Oh, please." England scoffed, "You kept mumbling in your sleep. It bloody well woke me up! I've been trying to wake you up since but then you went and fell on your head like that. Anyone would be curious as to what caused you to lose even more brain cells."
Alfred turned away from England's interrogative gaze, frowning at the green carpet of the room. "It was nothing." He muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest in a very child-like manner.
Surprised by the method of Alfred's denial England chose not to pursue his questioning of the younger man. Instead he gave one of his quick, barely noticeable smiles, and leant back against the pillows, "Well okay then, if you say so."
Alfred clambered back up to sit on the chair again; inspecting the room's other occupant. "How're you feeling?" He leant forward, placing a hand on England's forehead in an attempt to check his temperature.
England brushed the large hand away, his face flushing, "I'm feeling considerably better, thank you." He said briskly, "I'd be up if Tino hadn't demanded that I rest."
"Well then," Alfred stood up, stretching, "I'll make you some tea, shall I?" He left the room with more of a spring to his step, humming to himself quietly.
England could feel his face heat up as Alfred closed the door behind him, though he loathed to admit that it was because the other was a great deal more caring (and good looking) than he had previously expected or even considered, for that matter.
Much to his irritation, an annoying French accented voice once again drifted up through the open window, interrupting England's confused thoughts. Did that frog really not know how to speak quietly?
He moved to close the window and shut out the voice when the man's conversation caught his attention.
"Alfred? Mon ami, I thought that you were upstairs." The Frenchman's voice sounded utterly bewildered.
England peered down at the front of the building, catching sight of Francis leaning out of the front door staring intently at another figure with slightly wavy golden hair, holding a rather large backpack.
"If you were going out you should have taken your key with you." Francis stated sceptically.
"I- I'm not Alfred." England could just about hear the young sounding voice. Indeed, it was not possible for the man to be Alfred. He was speaking much too quietly.
"Well of course you are Alfred, cher!" Francis exclaimed, clapping the boy on the shoulder, "Do not think that you can try and fool me." He laughed, obviously not noticing that his English had become slightly fragmented.
"But- but I'm not..." The boy stammered out. He moved to the side in a slightly awkward fashion, revealing the crutch supported under his right arm. A quiet, injured version of Alfred. Well this world was full of surprises.
The bedroom door opened again as Alfred entered, concentrating heavily on the full mug of tea that he was carrying. "Here you go." He smiled, placing it down on the desk and only managing to spill a couple of drops.
"Thanks." England said, picking up the mug, the confusion showing in his voice. "Erm... Alfred?"
"Hm?" Alfred tilted his head, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed.
"The frog seems to think that you're downstairs." He motioned out of the window.
Alfred moved over to look down at where England had signalled, seeing the two figures standing outside of the block. He almost choked out his surprise upon seeing the boy that Francis was still questioning the identity of.
"Oh crap!" Alfred dashed towards the door. "Sorry, I'll be back later."
England blinked, almost missing Alfred's hurried goodbye as the taller boy dashed out of the apartment with the shouts of the others lost behind him ("Al? What's wrong-? Hey! Watch it!"). He turned back to look out of the window, waiting for the third blonde to appear.
"Francis!" Right on cue.
"Alfred?" Francis sounded genuinely surprised. "But this..."
"Al- Alfred..." The boy stuttered. "What's going on?"
"Exactly what I would like to know." Francis interjected.
England could see Alfred sighing as the two men ambushed him with questions. Francis was being particularly annoying (in England's opinion) by poking the teen on his forehead in an attempt to get his answer.
"What're you doing here, Matt?" Alfred ran his hand over his forehead, messing his hair up further.
"Well I..."
"And with your leg like that?" Alfred motioned to the crutch. "Jeez... what were you thinking?"
The other boy pushed his glasses up his nose, not meeting Alfred's eyes. His face was very pale compared to his lookalike, his blonde hair slightly longer but still supported that one piece that stuck up stubbornly, though his was curled and again, longer than Alfred's. His eyes were tinged slightly violet as opposed to Alfred's brilliantly sky-blue ones. When looking at the two next to each other one could tell that Alfred was slightly taller but they were unmistakably similar to one another.
"Well never mind." Alfred moved to ruffle the other's hair, smiling fondly (much to England's surprise as he observed them from his window). "Matt, this is my landlord, Francis Bonnefoy." He motioned to the Frenchman who shook the hand that Matt wasn't using to hold his crutch. "Francis, this is my little brother, Matthew Jones-"
"Williams." Matthew cut off his brother, still avoiding his gaze as Alfred turned to look at him in dismay.
"You... you took Mum's last name?" Alfred spluttered out, shocked at his younger brother's interruption.
"Th- that's why I came." Matthew stuttered, "She wants you to as well."
Both Alfred and Matthew kept making attempts to make a statement to one another, only to mumble something unintelligible, and then continue on in silence, pointedly looking either at the floor or at the wall.
"Oh come now!" Francis's accent rang out between the two younger boys, after he'd had quite enough of being forgotten as he stood next to them. "Brothers should not act in such a manner, I've had quite enough of that from Gilbert and Ludwig." He looped an arm around each of them and guided them inside, closing the door with his foot.
England stepped back from the window, sitting back on the bed with a huff.
He tried to convince himself that he wasn't as concerned about what he had just witnessed from a distance as he knew his face portrayed. Of course it wasn't any of his business if there were problems within Alfred's family. That was his problem. It had absolutely nothing to do with him. So why did he care so much about the look on Alfred's face when his brother had corrected him?
How could something be so distressing and irritating at the same time?
A brown coloured mound caught his attention on the corner of his desk.
Oh yes, England huffed, the git would just go and forget his bloody jacket.
Alfred closed his apartment door behind him.
He'd managed to convince Francis to go back into his own room after he'd tried to strike up a truly terrible conversation about what type of girl's Matthew liked and whether he was old enough to drink yet ("He's seventeen, for Christ's Sake!").
Matthew had staggered further into the room, after having much trouble making his way up the four flights of stairs to Alfred's flat, propped his crutch and backpack up on the coffee table and practically collapsed onto the sofa, evidently exhausted.
"I can't believe you came all the way here with that!" Alfred jerked his head at the bag, standing in front of his brother on the opposite side of the small table. "Are you actually trying to fuck up your leg even more?" He shook his head, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Jeez Mattie, what were you thinking?"
"I didn't walk..." Matthew's voice was almost a whisper (something that Alfred was very much used to). "And Mum wanted me to bring you the papers."
"Papers?"
"For the name change." Matthew moved to rummage through his bag, pulling out a wad of paper which he offered to Alfred.
Alfred took them, glancing over the top page, before glaring dangerously at his younger brother, who seemed to merge into the fabric of the sofa under his gaze.
A knock at the door brought Alfred's attention away from Matthew. He turned to answer it, forgetting about the papers in his hand. Probably Francis being an idiot again...
He opened the door with slightly more force than he would normally have done, revealing a slightly startled looking England waiting outside. He was dressed in his usual jeans and shirt, his hair still looking as if he'd just staggered in from a hurricane.
"Uh... hi?" Alfred questioned, not quite believing that it was indeed England holding out his bomber jacket to him.
"You left this downstairs." England stated, peering around Alfred into his room.
"Oh right, thanks." Alfred grinned, ignoring the pleased feeling he'd acquired upon seeing the smaller blonde at his door. "Err... well... you wanna come in for a bit?"
"Are you sure?" England spotted Matthew looking at them from his position on the sofa, "I mean, you have company."
"Matt won't mind." Alfred reassured, steering England into the room and closing the door. "Besides, you shouldn't be walking up and down too much, the doctor told you to rest."
England noted the general mess around Alfred's flat, wondering which 'mystery object' (a title he had given to the strange objects that he found in random places in the student's apartment) would turn up this time.
He sat down awkwardly at Alfred's cluttered desk, thinking it unwise to sit next to the boy he had yet to be introduced to properly, especially as it seemed that the boy was already so obviously worried.
"You want a drink or something?" Alfred reappeared after putting his jacket away (it was the only possession that he seemed to take care of, ignoring the fact that he'd left it in someone else's apartment).
"Ah, no. That's alright. I just finished that cup of tea." England nodded his appreciation to the offer. "And I can't stand being cooped all day, those three idiots and my brother would be unbearable. They were arguing over whether Gilbert was 'awesome' or not when I snuck out."
Alfred chuckled, imagining Gilbert's obvious rage at the idea that he wasn't as awesome as he made himself out to be. He disappeared into the kitchen area, the smell of coffee soon travelling into the living room. "You do need to take it easy though, okay?" He called out to England, "You're still a bit pale."
"Since when did you become responsible?" England retorted, rolling his eyes at Matthew, who looked confused by the whole situation. "Has he always been like this?"
Matthew started at the question that was suddenly directed towards him. He stared at England for a few seconds before nodding slowly, apparently uncertain on how he should answer the stranger.
"I won't bite, you know." England huffed, "You don't need to be so nervous."
"I'd be nervous if I were him." Alfred laughed, joining the two and setting a mug of coffee on the table in front of his brother, joining him on the sofa. "This is England, Matt." He gestured to England, "He lives downstairs with his brother."
"Ah. Okay." Matthew answered quietly, emphasising the difference between the two brothers. He eyed the papers that had been discarded on the coffee table, obviously still worried about Alfred's previous reaction to them.
Unfortunately, Alfred noticed his brother's eyes wander towards the slips. He sighed and stood up again, gathering up the papers. He turned to face Matthew, his mouth in a thin line, surprising England more than the youngest of three. He hadn't expected to see Alfred make such an expression.
"I'm not taking Mum's last name, Matt." He said shortly.
"But-"
"No." Alfred gave England an apologetic look. "Our parents got divorced last year." He explained, "Our Mum's been trying to get us to take her name ever since."
England nodded quickly, feeling the atmosphere in the room becoming more and more tense.
"But Al, Dad keeps being really unreasonable. You can understand why-"
"Why what?" Alfred shot at his brother, "I said no, Matt, and I'm sticking to that." He put his coffee down on the table, turning to lean on the wall. "This whole thing was my fault in the beginning. Changing my name now would be like running away."
England shifted uncomfortably in his seat, bringing Alfred's attention back to him.
"Besides!" He began quickly, his voice taking on its normal, energetic tone. "Alfred F. Williams just sounds stupid. Jones suits my name so much better, don't you think?" He grinned at England, who simply stared back at him at a loss for words.
"But Al-!" Matthew tried to interrupt but was silenced again by Alfred.
"Anyway Mattie, you need to get going! Your taxi's waiting outside isn't it?" He bounded around, stuffing the paper back into Matthew's bag. "You've got school tomorrow, right? You can't keep hanging around here." He held out Matthew's crutch to him, supporting his brother as he stood up. "You've got exams coming up this year, can't have you lazing around like I did, can we?"
"Al, you don't need to..." Matthew whispered to his brother as they made their way towards the door, Alfred supporting his younger brother's weight.
"Yes I do." Alfred muttered back. "And don't try and stop me."
Matthew looked up at his brother, the concern showing behind his glasses.
"I'll be back in a second, okay England?" He waved at the older man, who was still sitting, utterly baffled, in the chair next to the desk.
The brothers exited the flat, before Alfred heaved Matthew up onto his back, grabbing his crutch, something that Matthew had become accustomed to in the past. There was no point in arguing about it, no matter how ungraceful the two of them appeared as the older brother carried the younger down the flights of stairs. It was simply too difficult for Matthew to manoeuvre himself down the steps while supporting himself with his crutch and carrying his backpack. It was hard enough when he was in the bundles at school, where his friends always helped him to carry his bags as his limped his way up and down the blocks.
Alfred watched the taxi round the corner and sighed deeply.
That wasn't the reunion with his brother that he had hoped for since he'd left home. But his mother was bound to try something to stir things up again. This hadn't been the first time she had produced those papers for him to sign since she and her husband had split up.
He made his way back upstairs, trying to wipe the entire visit from his mind. He didn't want the events of the last few years to replay in his mind any more than they already did, but Matthew's surprise visit really hadn't been a welcome relief from the daily stresses.
The sight of England tidying up the clutter on his desk, however, was just what Alfred needed to break his attention away from the jumbled up thoughts inside is head.
"What?" England started at Alfred's sudden reappearance. "This place is so messy I'm surprised you can find anything in this heap of junk."
"Nothing." Alfred smiled, taking the pile of books England was holding and placing them down on the coffee table. "I just thought you looked kinda cute wearing that." He gestured to the apron England had tied around his waist. "I forgot I had that thing."
England scoffed, rolling his eyes and adding another folder to the ever-growing pile of Alfred's college paperwork.
"I'll do that." Alfred stepped forward, gently pushing England to one side. "You should be resting."
England pouted, before chuckling at Alfred's concern. "I'm fine. Seriously." He opened one of the desk's empty drawers and placed the folders inside. "Besides, you've got more important things to worry about, don't you?"
Alfred gawked at the older man before slumping down on the sofa with his head in his hands. He glanced up at England who had taken the seat next to him, still holding a pile of papers.
"Oh, come now." England batted him on the head with the wads, "It's not like you to look so worn out."
Alfred leaned over and propped his head on England's shoulder, feeling him stiffen instantly.
The two stayed in that position for some time before England finally relaxed, patting Alfred's head and allowing his hands to run through his hair. He could hear Alfred sigh from next to him and feel him adjusting his glasses into a more comfortable position.
"It's my fault that Matt's on crutches." Alfred muttered so quietly that England almost missed what he had said. "And that my parents got a divorce."
"Alfred..." England tilted the younger man's head up so that he could see his face. The shine had disappeared from his eyes and they seemed dull and lifeless. "Alfred, you know that can't be true. These things just happen." He cupped Alfred's cheek, running his thumb under one blue eye and smiling gently.
"You don't know what I did." Alfred said, burying his face once more, avoiding England's gaze.
"Wouldn't I understand?" England questioned, predicting Alfred's next sentence.
"You might." Alfred mumbled into England's shoulder.
"Then tell me?"
Alfred stood up quickly, knocking the papers out of England's hands. He crossed the room in four strides, placing a fist against the wall. He couldn't lose his temper now. He'd held it for the entire time Matt had been there. He couldn't break down now.
"Al?" England was by his side again. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Alfred looked down at the hand on his shoulder, following the line up the arm to England's face. The concern showed in his eyes more than Alfred had expect, so much so that it took him a few seconds to compose himself again.
"You see all this stuff?" Alfred gestured around the room, pointing at the books and papers, "It's not meant for me." He looked at England square in the face. "I told you before, all this literature stuff, I'm not interested in it. I find it dead boring." He turned away again and started to gather up the papers he caused England to drop. "I'm doing this for Matt."
England took the papers from him again, putting them back on the desk. "You know what I think?" He turned to face Alfred, smiling that small, almost non-existent, yet calming smile. "I think you need to go out and get some fresh air."
"You're pretty caring for a biker." Alfred smirked, looking back at England, who huffed in reply.
"Well if that's how you're going to be then-"
He was cut off by Alfred. The taller blonde had wrapped his arms around him, causing England to freeze mid-sentence, his mind going totally blank.
"Thanks." Alfred said, breathing in contently, "For listening I mean. Thanks."
"No problem..." England stammered, still surprised by Alfred's sudden embrace.
It was strange, but not a horrible feeling and England loathed to admit that he felt better knowing that Alfred sounded more like himself again. He could feel his heart beating against his chest and hoped that Alfred hadn't noticed, even if the other's heartbeat also seemed to have quickened as well. England could feel it through his clothes.
His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, but not unpleasantly so. No, quite the opposite, in fact.
He shook the sensation out of his head. No. He couldn't start thinking like that. Alfred was just overly affectionate, that was all.
"Ah! Sorry!" Alfred let go of England's rigid form, seeming to realise the awkwardness of the situation he had created. He rubbed the back of his head, apparently having regained his usual composure. "Seriously though, man, thanks."
"That's perfectly alright." England straightened out the creases on the front of his shirt, noting briefly the slight pink tinge to Alfred's cheeks and prayed that his face did not mirror this.
Alfred removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt before noting that he still hadn't gotten changed. He motioned to England that he'd be back in a minute, pulling his shirt off over his head.
England caught a glance of the bandage Alfred wore on his side, looking a lot shabbier than the one he had previously seen. The corners had folded back from where Alfred had been sleeping, revealing the slightest bit of lighter skin where a scar was evidently present.
"So you reckon going out would do me some good?" Alfred called from the next room, his voice muffled as he pulled another t-shirt over his head. He reappeared in his living room wearing a pair of cropped jeans and his clean shirt, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.
"I would think so, yes." England nodded, trying to ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him that he was glad that Alfred was acting like himself again.
"Great!" Alfred beamed, grabbing England's wrist and heading for the door, snatching up his keys along the way. "Let's go then!"
They'd made it out into the hallway before England managed to halt Alfred, his words of protest having been completely ineffective. "Will you just stop a second, you prat!" He pulled his arm out of Alfred's grip, massaging where he had been holding it. "Why on earth do I need to go with you?"
"Because," Alfred began, laughing in a manner that made it sound almost like a giggle, "if fresh air will do me good, then it will for you as well. It might make your fever go down some more." He grinned, nudging England towards the stairs with his foot. "That and I'd be lonely if I went by myself."
England gaped at Alfred, who appeared to be extremely pleased with himself. He refused to acknowledge the blush that he knew he'd acquired. He just didn't want to go by himself. It's not that he wants to spend time with you!
"Well, if you've got no objections!" Alfred laughed, taking a hold of England's wrist once more and dragging him along behind him.
They reached the front door, running past a figure that looked remarkably like Peter standing outside England's apartment. England had tried to shout out something to them, but gave up when they past the second floor. Outside England caught sight of Tino with a taller man wearing glasses and quickened his pace to get past them, much to Alfred's amusement when the two young doctors shouted after them in protest.
What they did not notice, however, was the person standing astride a motorcycle, watching them from across the street, long platinum hair scooped back into a ponytail, eyes hidden behind dark shades, her helmet perched in front of her, a slightly confused smirk present on her lips.
[A/N: Sorry that it's been a while since I last updated, but now my exams have finally finished and I can get back to what's important, right? =P
I've got a bit more to ramble about this time since I got a nice little surprise yesterday when Carry-the-Dead on deviantART sent me a link to this. I must say that I was totally thrilled to see that someone had drawn the guys, especially since their in the clothes that I drew them in as well! ^-^
This got me into thinking, that because I haven't properly said this here, if anyone does fan art of any of my fics please let me know and I'll link to them everywhere (lol) and I'll reward you with either a request fic or fanart (not both unless I really want to ^^;;), according to your preference.
Of course this is all optional, but I didn't think anyone really liked the fic all that much until I got the message with the link to this pic. It really made my day =)
One other little note: the idea of the "mystery object" comes from the BBC series 'Outnumbered'. In one of the episodes the mum finds a trowel behind the television while getting everyone ready for school in the morning lol]