Chapter Three; In which Matthew gets very, very confused.
"So there's the kitchen and the pantry and the dining room and that's the other dining room and there's the staff dining room and the staff kitchen and—" Peter chattered blithely. Matthew was only half-listened.
After Ivan had left, Matthew had climbed off his bed, sweating, and pulled out his cell phone to find out where Alfred was, only to have Peter Kirkland, an annoying-ass kid with huge eyebrows, tell him he needed to visit Natalia to have some work done. He wasn't even related to Arthur, so his having the name last name as Arthur was totally pointless.
"Is this why Ivan, Katya, and Natalia are still here?" Matthew had asked, recalling that Ludwig and his posse had been asked to return later.
"Yes!" Peter had responded enthusiastically.
"But what about the others? When will they get their tests done?"
"They won't. Ivan and company hate them and they return said feeling. Having them here together would result in a brawl, something we can't afford before you go into the wardrobe."
"Oh, then why are you inviting them both to come in anyways?" Matthew had asked.
Peter shot him a 'don't-ask-can't-tell' look and lead him out of his room and into the grand mansion.
"Hey, Peter," Matthew began, interrupting the small mans tirade.
"Yes?" Peter beamed at Matthew, his large blue hat wobbling precariously on his head.
"Why do Ivan and his sisters hate Ludwig and them?"
"Well, it's a long running feud. Ivan and Gilbert hate each other very much. Mostly because of the business they're both in. Their work constantly overlaps and when it does, they like to spite each other a lot." Peter smiled again. "So, by default, Natalia and Katya hate Gilbert too; and his team for that matter."
"Oh… What are these tests?"
"Just blood samples and stuff. Typical hospital things, because Natalia and Katya are now your hospital." Peter explained. "Just watch what you say when you're in there. Natalia isn't… the nicest person…"
"Oh… Francis said she was cold."
"She's freezing!" Peter giggled at his lame attempt at a joke. Matthew smiled half-heartedly. "Well, this is it. Good luck," he unexpectedly deadpanned.
Matthew gulped, a little worried of what he might find behind the door he and Peter had stopped in front of. He pushed it open and entered.
"And how often do you exercise?" Natalia asked eyes glued onto her clipboard.
"Well, I walk my dog twice a day…" Matthew said nervously.
"Okay, none then." Natalia said seriously.
Matthew looked around. They were in a tiny room, with stainless steel cabinets lining the walls. There was a curtain in the corner and two chairs faced the bed Matthew sat on. The air was awkward, as it was just Natalia and Matthew in the room.
"And have you ever handled radio-active material without all of the proper equipment?"
"Uh, no?" Matthew wasn't sure if she was serious or not. "Is that a real question?"
Natalia smoothed down the front of her heavy, navy dress. "Yes." She said, stone-cold face remaining. "Why? Never seen the outcome?" She pulled her chair closer to the bed, glowering at him. "You know Aleksander? Well, he has a brother from Iceland, Daníel, who handled radio-active material without the proper equipment. He has had a cold for the last 7 years. Nothing can make it go away." She leaned back. "That's why it's important."
"Uh, who is Aleksander?" Matthew asked, becoming confused again.
She raised her eyebrows at him, as to say 'really?' and went back to writing on her clipboard. Matthew took the hint and shut up.
Just then, the door creaked open slightly. Natalia's head snapped up and she glared at the door before she realized it was Katya. Her gaze softened, but she didn't say anything to greet her; instead, she went back to her papers.
"Hi." Katya said shyly, opening the door and carefully picking her way across the equipment in the crowded room. She sat down in the chair beside Natalia and smiled hesitantly at Matthew. Matthew gaped.
"Matthew, this is my sister Katya." Natalia motioned beside her with the pen she had been writing with.
They looked nothing alike. The only thing they had in common was their hair colour, a dull platinum blonde. Natalia was short and slim, while Katya was taller with bigger shoulders. Natalia's hair was long, while Katya's was short. The biggest difference, however, was their… chests. Matthew blushed and looked away from Katya.
"Hello," he said cautiously.
"Hello" she greeted. "Как испытания происходит?" She asked Natalia.
"Хороший…" Natalia responded.
Matthew smiled awkwardly.
"Sorry, my English is not very good." Katya apologized.
"Katya has not been in the business as long as Ivan and I have." Natalia explained. Katya nodded absent mindedly. "So she has not picked up as much English."
"And you spoke Russian before?" Matthew inquired.
Natalia shook her head, "Only after we met Ivan did we start speaking Russian. I lived in Belarus with my mother before, Katya in Ukraine. After we met him though, Russian came easy. Belarusian, Ukrainian and Russian all have the same alphabet. Kind of like your English and French."
Matthew recalled Ivan saying that he was raised from birth by Natalia and Katya. "When did you meet?"
"When I was four, I went to Russia to see my father." Katya explained.
"Ivan was only a baby then. I went when I was three; two years after Katya had begun living there." Natalia added. "Now, I have to take some blood samples. Please remove your shirt."
Matthew hesitantly raised his arms, pulling his loose, red shirt over his head, revealing his pale chest underneath. He felt flustered.
"Hmm…" Natalia tapped her pen against her chin and scribbled something down on the clipboard. Katya pulled out a small case and opened it, revealing an assortment of surgical tools and needles. Natalia contemplated before pulling out a fairly large needle.
Matthew sighed. This family just had sharp implements and weapons everywhere he turned. First Ivan's coat, with all the guns and knives, now Natalia's first aid box, what was next? Matthew looked around, hoping to not look suspicious. He noticed a belt looped around Natalia's waist, three knives tucked into it, shining whenever she moved her arm to reveal them.
Matthew sucked in his breath, trying not to look like an easy target. Which, with all the questioning, he had probably failed.
"Natalia, there was something I was want to ask you…" Katya said with horrid grammar. Matthew grimaced.
"Katya, it's 'I was wanting to ask you'." Natalia corrected. "But go ahead."
"Why are you hating Daníel so much?" Katya asked innocently. Natalia startled, almost dropping her needle.
"Matthew, please give me your arm." Natalia commanded. Matthew nervously raised his arm and looked away. He hated needles. "Well," Natalia began in a forced tone. "брат is always so nice to him, but he does not return his affection." Natalia growled, stabbing the needle into Matthews arm. Matthew jumped, but Natalia continued taking his blood.
"Shouldn't we be using a tourniquet or something for this?" Matthew suggested, unnerved by Natalia's anger.
"No," She fixed him in place with a callous look. "We will do it this way. If you cannot handle this, you will not be able to handle what is coming." Matthew shuddered, thinking of her knives. "If you die, well, that is your fault." Matthew jumped, staring wide-eyed at Natalia.
"But why is it him you hate?" Katya asked, heedless of her sister's mood.
"It is because I work so hard and брат doesn't care enough for me, but then he is going and acting nice to Daníel all the time. Why will he not acknowledge me? All Daníel does is cough on him and get him sick!" Natalia snapped.
Katya smiled anyways.
"Прекрати!" Natalia barked, obviously very irritated with her sister. She yanked the needle out of Matthew's arm, wrapped it fiercely in gauze and stalked out of the room.
"I think I made her angry." Katya said collectedly to Matthew.
Matthew gawked at Katya. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Can I go now?"
Katya took a quick look over at the clipboard before looking back to Matthew, beaming, and nodded.
Matthew jumped up, clumsily pulling his shirt on again, careful to not tug on the gauze. He made a mental note not to get too close to Ivan, or he would probably come face to face with the sharp ends of Natalia's knives.
Matthew shuddered, looked at Katya, and hastily made his way back out into the house. He was too disturbed by what had gone on in the small room.
Matthew had been wandering around the vast house for a while before realizing he was lost. Perhaps listening to Peter would have helped him, but it was too late now. He was lost.
Suddenly, he heard voices. Matthew hurried to them, hoping they could help. He hadn't had anything since the vodka this morning and he was hungry. He scurried down the hallway, seeing a bright light flood down the corridor. Even though it was about mid-day, when you got into the recesses of Arthur's house, where there was no windows, the light was scarce.
He wondered where all the money had come from. 6 years ago, when he had visited London last, the last time Arthur and Francis had invited, hell, even called him, there was no lavish mansion. There was a cute little house. Sure, it was larger than your average, but not this big. Matthew guessed the crime they had apparently been committing had its benefits.
Finally, he reached the room and realized that the too people he had presumed were talking, were in fact, yelling at each other. Matthew stopped, and flattened himself against the wall outside the small sitting room.
"Well, bloody hell Alfred; it's not my fault it wasn't working out!" A gruff voice hollered.
"Oh? Is that your new excuse now? You left me sitting on my ass because it wasn't 'working out'?" Alfred yelled back. Matthew guessed the other voice was Arthur; there was no one else Alfred would talk to like this.
"Well, what else is there to it?" Arthur's voice came again. Matthew snuck a peek into the room and saw Arthur stalking back and forth across the floor in discontentment. Another quick peek showed that Alfred was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and a scowl gracing his face.
"Why did you stop calling me?" Desperation finally broke through Alfred's tone. "I mean, if you have enough nerve to call me here after all these years, you obviously don't hate me. And, I mean, I lived with you. You would have a reason to."
"Because," Arthur said snobbishly. "I had other things to do."
"Like what? Commit crime? Steal things? Sneak around behind the law?"
"Not much better than what you did." Matthew could just imagine Arthur sticking up his nose at this.
"What? What did I do this time?"
"All those drugs, I heard about those."
"Arthur, that's not damn fair. That's totally different."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Matthew smiled. They were fighting again, but now it was getting stupid.
Suddenly there was a cracking sound, like a palm meeting a cheek. Matthew jumped.
"I hate you." Alfred said before barreling out of the sitting room. He flew past Matthew, and in his daze, Matthew just trotted after Alfred, like he used to when they were kids.
"Alfred, wait." He called.
"Shut the hell up Matthew and just leave me alone." Alfred barked.
Matthew stopped. Alfred had never pushed him away like this. He felt more lost then he did before he had witnessed the fight. He stumbled back to the sitting room, because there was only one thing left to do.
"Arthur," Matthew began, peering cautiously into the room. Arthur sat, head in hands, on one of the posh chairs situated around the small coffee table. There was a cup of tea, untouched, in front of him.
"What." Arthur growled before Matthew could continue.
"I need some help. Getting back to my room." Matthew kind of grinned, sort of apologetically. "I'm a bit lost."
"Fine." Arthur sighed. He stood up warily, dragging himself over to the door. "Let's go."
Matthew walked behind Arthur, letting him stew for a while before piping up, "He didn't mean it you know."
Arthur looked back at Matthew. "He should have."
Matthew shut up with that. There was something odd in Arthur's tone.
They were passing through the main foyer, the house still dark. None of the windows were open, Matthew realized, and everything was dusty. It seemed old, kind of forgotten. There were assistants and other house-keepers everywhere, but none of them seemed to be cleaning. Nothing seemed freshly cleaned anyways.
Suddenly, a large banging on the front door to the house ensued. Arthur and Matthew stopped, looking at the large set of doors. A butler moved to open the door for the visitor, but it slammed open without his help anyways.
"Eh, Arthur! Why didn't you tell me you were going? Where's my invite?" Bright light flooded into the dank front hall as a silhouette yelled and pointed at Arthur.
Arthur grimaced. "Oh, hell no."
Translations:
(Russian)
Как испытания происходит - How are the tests going?
Хороший - Good
Прекрати! - Stop it!
Ohohoho, Matthew, you sure walked into a lot of fights today ;D
And ooh, mystery visitor! (Oh god, its so obvious!)
Anyways, thank you for reading!