(A/N: Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to update next week or the week after that because A) my final exams are this week, B) I'm going to animeNEXT this weekend, and C) I'm going on vacation for a week where I once again won't have internet access. Updates will begin again the first week of July, and that update will be the last chapter.)
CHAPTER XVII
Feet pounded on the pavement as the police ran toward the back of the house, a white van in sight. A hand shot up from behind the vehicle, its owner shouting, "Over here! We're over here!" They arrived immediately, finding two embracing male teens, Ivan Braginski out cold on the ground.
"It's all right," an officer assured them as the others checked out the suspect. "We'll handle things now."
"Sir, Braginski is alive but unconscious," a policeman reported to him. "He has a welt on the back of his head."
"Just take him into custody," the officer commanded.
As the others handcuffed the Russian, the officer looked back to the two males, kneeling beside them. "What are your names?"
"I'm Alfred Kirkland," the one consoling the other answered. "This is my boyfriend, Matthew Williams. He's one of the guys you were looking for."
Pulling out his two-way radio, the policeman reported an update of the situation.
"T-Toris is st-still somewhere inside…" Matthew mumbled through his tears.
"Don't worry," the man promised. "Toris is safe and we now have Ismael and Ivan in custody. All of the other…victims are also safe."
The Canadian nodded, knowing he was referring to the others in the ring. "Now, can I ask you two some questions?" the officer asked.
"Sure," Alfred answered, possessively holding his lover close in his arms. The American felt an instinctive need to keep him safe, even if this man was a cop. It wasn't like the police hadn't hurt Matthew before…
"What happened here?"
"I-I hit Ivan," Matt told him, "w-with that water pipe over there. H-He was cho-choking A-Al so…I h-hit him."
"Alfred, you're not one of the victims, are you?"
"No, sir."
"Then what were you doing here?"
"I couldn't just wait at the police station," the American nonchalantly explained, "so I got a cab and came here to help. I went around back and then Ivan and Matt came out. I tried to hit Ivan with that water pipe over there, but he stopped me and then, well, you know the rest."
"Alfred," the cop addressed him in a serious tone, "that was incredibly dangerous. You could have been killed."
"But if I hadn't been there, then Ivan would've gotten away! Nobody else was around to stop him!"
"I understand that, but that was reckless-"
"It was reckless of you guys to all go into the house at once! You didn't once think he could come out the back instead!"
"No…I suppose we didn't. My point is that we're professionals and you're just a civilian. Leave the job to us."
` "If I had left the job to you," Alfred argued with glowering blue eyes, "then Matt would be far gone by now. That's my point."
Accepting defeat, the policeman turned to Matthew and asked, "…I take it you agree with what he's been saying so far?"
The boy nodded, his head resting against the comforting chest of his lover. "I've…n-never had a good ex-experience with the police…" Matt confessed, the memories resurging. "M-Members of your f-force…have u-used m-m-me…Th-They've used a-all of us…"
The officer sighed, thinking of the best way to defend his vocation while remaining sensitive to the kid's perspective. "…Law enforcement isn't perfect. We have a lot of corruption, people abuse their power, and we screw up. We're only human. You can't always catch the bad guy, you can't always be the good guy, but we try. And sometimes, that's just not enough."
That was the simple truth, even if Al didn't want to admit it, although he'd known it all along. He couldn't help but hold a grudge because of what many cops had done to Matt, but it wasn't fair to judge them all for the crimes of individuals. No, that wasn't just.
Now, screwing up and going into the house all at once- that he could blame them for.
"…Um, I'm- I'm sorry, this is k-kind of awkward," the Canadian stuttered as he self-consciously tugged down his sweatshirt, "but, u-um, my pants are st-still inside the h-house. A-Any chance I could g-get them back?"
It was then that Al realized for the first time that Matt only had on a sweatshirt. A light blush made its way onto his face as his eyes wandered down his boyfriend's frame, stopping at where the fabric met his skin. If only it was hiked up a little higher…
He noticed the small, dark stain on his jeans under Matthew's legs.
"That depends on if forensics-"
"Matt, are you bleeding?" Alfred interrupted, concern prevalent in his voice. No…if it was coming from there, that could only mean…
The night's events resurfacing in his mind, Matthew froze before breaking down into sobs again, the twinge of pain only worsened by his shaking body. "He- He…" the Canadian tried to explain through his crying. "H-He r-r-raped -hic- r-raped m-m-me…" There was no way that he could ever tell Al the details…not with the electrical torture he'd gone through.
"Matt…Matt, I'm so sorry," Alfred apologized, holding his lover tight in his arms. "I-I didn't get here soon enough…"
"Y-Y-You're h-here n-n-now…" Matthew asserted, crying into the American's chest. "Th-That's wh-what matters…B-But, I-I'm not pure anymore…"
"You are, Matt," Alfred assured him, lightly planting his lips on the Canadian's forehead. "You are. He can't take that away from you. You're pure."
Al soothed his lover, although rage was bubbling up inside of him. How much he wanted to shout about how he was going to murder that Russian bastard, but it probably wasn't a good idea to do that in front of a police officer. Sighing as he let his anger recede to the back of his mind, Alfred resorted to the next best thing. "…Officer?"
"Yes?"
With a fervor burning through his eyes, the American demanded, "…Promise me you'll get him convicted. I don't want a 'we'll try', and I don't want an 'I don't know'. I want a clean-cut 'yes' or 'no' answer."
Surprised by the passion in the boy's words, the officer paused for a few seconds. "…You have my word."
"…Thank you," Alfred said, smiling in satisfaction with the man's promise. "That's all I needed to hear."
"…U-Um," Matthew cut in, still sniffling, "i-is there a-anything I can get to- to treat my…um, i-issue?"
"We've got response units on the way, so they can treat you on site."
"See, Matt? You'll be okay. Everything's gonna be okay." To prove his point, the American leaned in and kissed his lover. Matthew reciprocated, truly believing his words as he wrapped his arms around the other's neck, their lips melding together like long-lost puzzle pieces. Everything would be all right as long as he was in Alfred's arms.
The officer decided to leave them to their devices, walking off as Al's words ran through his head.
"What's on your mind?" a policeman asked him, seeing the pensive expression on his face.
"…That kid's got good instincts and this…incorruptible sense of justice," he admitted, glancing back to the two. "We need more people on the force like him."
. . .
"This is going to sting a bit," the paramedic informed Matthew, preparing a bit of rubbing alcohol to sterilize the tears in his anus. Matt nodded, his legs spread slightly as he rested his head on Alfred's lap. It was strangely calming in a way, although he usually wouldn't think of it that way since he was technically lying on Al's crotch.
It was a lot more calming than the scene outside the vehicle, though. Reporters had arrived after catching wind of the newest development, and there were camera flashes and shouts for information everywhere. The response unit had to be brought behind the house to keep Matthew out of view as he was treated. For that, the Canadian was glad he wasn't allowed to leave the vehicle, as he really didn't want a bunch of microphones in his face, but that meant he couldn't see Toris yet, wherever the police had him at this point. Matt sighed, knowing it'd all come together in due time.
Stroking the strands of golden waves, Alfred was reminded of when he'd bathed Matthew for the first time, drying his hair as the boy's head lay in his lap. He thought of how nice it would be to do that again now that they were in a relationship.
"All right, ready?" the paramedic asked, placing a hand on Matt's lower thigh for support. Flinching at the touch, the Canadian started trembling until Al grabbed his hand.
"It's okay," he whispered, gently rubbing circles in the palm of his hand. "He's not going to hurt you. He's just going to help. Don't worry; I'm here."
When the paramedic lightly pressed the soaked cotton ball on his tender hole, the Canadian stifled a whimper, gripping Alfred's hand as tight as he could. God, it stung a lot at first, but it soon turned into a minute tingling sensation.
The man pulled out another cotton ball, deciding that gauze would be too abrasive, and handed it to his patient. "Now," he directed the boy, "keep the cotton ball pressed there until the bleeding stops. The tears are minor and should heal relatively fast, but just know that it might hurt to have a bowel movement while it's still healing. Should the tears reopen, apply more alcohol to prevent infection, and follow the same instructions."
"Okay," Matthew agreed, awkwardly putting his hand between his legs to blot his hole with the cotton ball. Moving aside, the paramedic left the two alone as he put his supplies away.
A policeman walked over to the response unit vehicle and peered inside. "Excuse me, which one of you is Alfred?"
"I am," the American answered. "Why?"
"Your father called Officer Weillschmidt and is insisting that you turn on your cell phone. Weillschmidt had one of our men contact us."
"Oh boy," Al mumbled, fishing out his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. Great, some cop probably let the cat out of the bag to the reporters, and now it was all over the news. His dad was going to be so pissed…
He turned it on, the screen flashing with lights and colors until it reached the main menu. Damn, there were over twenty missed calls and voicemails. Still, the American didn't want to be the one to initiate the lecture, so he waited for his father to call. Sure enough, the phone rang within ten seconds and Alfred hesitantly answered it. "…Hello?"
"What the bloody hell were you thinking?"
"Hi, Dad, I'm doing fine. Thanks for asking."
"Alfred, this is not funny. Do you have any idea how many phone calls I got telling me to turn on the news because my son was nearly killed in New York saving his boyfriend from the ringleader of a trafficking ring? Do you have any idea how that feels?"
"Dad-"
"You were supposed to stay on the sidelines! That's what we agreed on! I don't know who I should be more furious with, you for flying off the handle or Ludwig for doing a poor job of looking after my son!"
"Dad-"
"You said you would be safe, and God damn it, if running off to some bloody criminal's house in the middle of the night is considered safe in your book, I do not want to know what else is!"
"Dad!"
"By God, why didn't you have your phone on?"
"In case you haven't noticed," Al curtly retorted, "it wouldn't be very stealthy to have my phone ring while I'm trying to save my boyfriend."
"…For God's sake, Alfred, do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Taking in a deep breath, the American apologized, "…Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sure you saw the news, so you know what would have happened if I wasn't there."
"That may be true, but do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could have been killed!"
"Look, the police already lectured me on this, okay? Can't you just be happy that Matt and I are both safe and that Ivan's been arrested?"
"If it were that easy, I would be calling you to congratulate you instead of trying to knock some sense of danger into that dense skull of yours."
"You know," Matthew began, looking up innocently at his boyfriend, "it's good that he's worrying about you. It shows that he loves you."
Placing his phone on the floor of the vehicle, Al replied, "Yeah, well, with all the people telling me how dangerous it was for me to take matters into my own hands, the message kinda loses its potency."
"Well, they're right. It was really dangerous."
Alfred groaned, throwing his head back. "Matt, not you too!"
"Alfred, our conversation is not over!" Arthur shouted from the phone, even more infuriated that his son was ignoring him.
"What would I have done if he really hurt you?" the Canadian playfully argued, reaching up to hold his lover's face in his hands. "Still, that doesn't mean I'm not grateful. …Really, Al, thank you."
"Well…I'd probably be dead if you hadn't whacked him over the head," Alfred admitted, flashing a flirtatious smile, "so I should be thanking you."
Ignoring the minute pain, Matthew sat up and shifted around to face his boyfriend, leaning in for a feathery kiss. "I love you," he murmured softly with eyes shut.
"I love you, too," Al got out before their mouths brushed together, savoring the soft, pure feel of Canadian lips. Oh, how he wanted to just leave marks all over that glorious skin…
"Alfred, save that for when I'm not here!" his father yelled. "Alfred! ALFRED!"
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, the American picked up his phone again. "Dad, can we continue this later? I'm kinda busy now."
"Alfred, I swear, the moment you get home, I am grounding you for the rest of your life. I'll lock you in your room and then you will have to grow your hair out like Rapunzel if you want to see another Starbucks again."
"Love you, too, Dad. Bye."
"…Be safe this time," the Brit grumbled before hanging up, rubbing his temples as the phone clattered back onto its hook. Really, what was he going to do with that boy?
Snapping his cell phone shut, Alfred returned his attention to his lover. "I'm so glad you're safe," he mumbled, nuzzling the Canadian's neck.
"Hm? Are you getting tired?"
"Yeah, what is it, midnight?"
"Doesn't really matter, eh?" Matthew replied, rather tired himself as he laid down. It'd been a long day, a long night, and just a long everything.
"Nope, not really," Al agreed, huddling up to his boyfriend as he figured the Canadian would feel cold without his pants. He resisted the sexual urges arising from that thought, knowing well enough that this wasn't the time or the place. It might take awhile for Matt to recover from his latest experience, and Al cared more about his lover's welfare than sleeping with him.
As they lay there, ignoring the faint sounds of frenzied reporters, a thought came to Matt's mind. "…Al?"
"Hm?"
"Why'd you make that officer promise to convict Ivan?" Matthew asked, his eyelids drooping with fatigue. "There's no guarantee…"
"Matt," Alfred addressed him, lightly sucking the other's neck, "he's going to get convicted. He's going to get justice served to him on a silver platter and spend a lot of his life behind bars."
Matthew moaned softly, the hot breath on his neck familiar and soothing. Wrapping his arms around his lover as they drifted off to sleep, the Canadian cuddled closer, seeking warmth along with the promise of justice.
He had to believe that was true.
