Chapter 31

Arthur didn't really remember getting from the school to the hospital. He went by cab and he was pretty sure he overpaid the cab driver by about a hundred bucks, but that was the last thing on his mind. When he got there, he ran to the nurse's station in the ER. Things seemed fairly quiet, with only a construction worker and a mother with two small children waiting to be called back.

"I'm here for a boy—caller said he was mugged—seventeen, blond hair, blue eyes—" Arthur panted. The nurse's eyes widened in recognition and she began typing on her computer screen.

"Relation to the patient?"

"I'm his boyfriend," Arthur replied, without thinking about technicalities.

"Does he have any relatives?"

"Yes. The President. The boy you're currently treating is Alfred Jones," Arthur said. If there was ever a time to use fame to get better service, this was it.

"Have his parents been contacted?" she asked immediately.

"I'll call them," Arthur said. As the nurse rushed off to let the other staff know what they were dealing with, Arthur searched through his contacts for Helen's number. It went straight to voicemail. Cursing mentally, Arthur panicked about what to say.

"You've reached the voicemail of Helen Jones. Please leave your message after the beep."

"Mrs. Jones, this is Arthur. I'm at the hospital right now. I got a call from someone saying that Alfred had been mugged and that there was quite a bit of blood. I don't have anymore information as of yet, but please get here soon."

Arthur called his own mother next. She was steady and reassuring like always, assuring him she was on her way and that he needed to keep calm until she arrived. No sooner had he ended the call with his mother, hospital security appeared and he was escorted out of the ER, to a private waiting room deeper within the hospital. It seemed the regular police had been called as well, as Arthur was left in the company of a rather burly police officer named David, who seemed completely unflappable. He also had no clue what was going on with Alfred.

"Will I be able to see him soon?" Arthur asked.

"I do not know, Sir. I'm sure the doctors will come to speak to you once his family has arrived."

"Can't you go find out his status? Surely you can understand—Alfred is very special to me. He has to be okay. Please. Anything you can find out…" but the officer merely stood his guard at the door and shook his head. Frustrated and scared, Arthur dropped into one of the plushy chairs and held his head in his hands. He stayed in that position, his mind racing from one dark thought to another, until his mother arrived, followed almost immediately by the President. With Richard's arrival, a doctor finally made an appearance. He looked harried, as if he'd been working very hard without any breaks. Arthur dully realized it had been over two hours already.

The doctor shook the President's hand. "I'm Doctor Alaniz. Your son is alive, and we finally got him stable enough to move him to the ICU."

"What's happened? We were told he was mugged. Where was his security team? The school didn't even know he was off campus," Richard said rather angrily. The doctor seemed quite accustomed to dealing with flustered family members and merely nodded.

"I don't have any information pertaining to why he was off campus alone, but I can tell you that he was struck in the head with a metal baseball bat, and he was kicked in the ribs. Two of them are cracked. He suffered some other lacerations and bruising, but our main concern is the head wound. He was very lucky," the doctor said with a grim smile. Richard narrowed his eyes.

"I think you and I might have a different definition of the word lucky," Richard said, still in that tight, angry voice. Helen arrived then, and she was completely off the handle. Arthur suspected she'd been a little tipsy before checking her messages. She was hysterical and crying, and the CIA operative escorting her seemed concerned. Arthur ducked his head into his mother's comforting shoulder and closed his eyes, clenching her hand and just listening to all the chaos and confusion that unfolded as both Richard and the doctor tried to calm down Helen and explain the situation all over again.

All Arthur got from it was that Alfred had come out of unconsciousness when the medic team arrived and, despite his rather frightening head wound, had rated highly on a scale of mental responsiveness. This was a good indicator, but they had decided surgery was necessary due to continued swelling in his brain and the depressed break of his skull. The doctor was careful to give them enough optimism so that they didn't lose all hope, but he didn't shy away from telling them that Alfred was in very serious condition and it could turn ugly at any moment.

"Can I see him now?" Richard asked. Helen was a crying mess, and Arthur's mother had left his side to go comfort her. Arthur quietly joined Richard's side, hoping he'd be allowed back, too, since Helen was clearly in no condition to go.

"For a moment, yes, but I warn you that it will not be pretty. He's in a controlled coma right now, in preparation for the surgery, but he will likely still be comforted by familiar voices. You can talk to him."

"Be honest with me here, doctor. Should I…should I be saying my goodbyes?" Richard asked in a very vulnerable voice. It made giant tears spring up in Arthur's eyes. If the President was shaken and scared, then Arthur realized there was something to be scared about. Arthur waited for the doctor to brush off Richard's question as ridiculous—because Alfred was going to be just fine—but the doctor very gravely advised Richard to use the time wisely. As hopeful as they were, nothing was certain.

Arthur was allowed to go. He followed behind the broad shouldered president in a daze. The hospital was a blur of white and pastel blues and greens. The nurses darted up and down hallways and around corners like little white fish in a tide pool. The random beeping of monitoring equipment echoed eerily down the hallways, and the assaulting smell of astringent stung Arthur's nose.

He thought of his own trip to the hospital after his attack, and the threatening memories made him wish Francis or Yao was there with him. He felt like he was going to shatter and fall apart.

Arthur must not have been the only one. When they reached the room, surprisingly, Richard found Arthur's shoulder and squeezed it rather hard, as if he would lose it otherwise. Alfred was hooked up to a mess of machinery and wire, with a large tube coming out of the back of his head. He was bloodied to the point of being unrecognizable, shirtless with his chest heavily bandaged, broken fingers in splints, and a breathing tube in his nose.

"Oh, Alfie," Richard said hollowly. Arthur could barely keep from buckling under the weight of the large man's hand. He grimaced, and wiped at the tears spilling all over his face.

Arthur stood waiting as Richard got as close to the bed as he dared. His college alumni ring glittered on his hand next to his wedding band as he hesitantly touched Alfred's calf under the sheet.

"Son? Son, can you hear me?" Richard asked. There was no response, but Arthur thought he saw Alfred's eyes moving underneath his lids. Arthur wished he could step outside. He didn't want to see Alfred like that, and he didn't want to hear what Richard would choose as the last possible words to give to his son. It was all too much, and too private, and Arthur couldn't do it. He left the glass encased room and slid to the floor outside the door, pressing his eyes shut tightly and trying to block out all those horrible beeping noises. A small eternity passed and then Richard came out.

"Go on in. He would want…Alfie would want…" Richard couldn't finish his sentence, but Arthur knew the truth in his words. He owed it to Alfred to be strong for him. Alfred needed him…and he needed Alfred to know.

He walked to Alfred's side, not even phased by all the nurses bustling around the bed in a perfectly unified dance.

"Alfred…it's me. I'm here." Arthur gently rested his fingertips on Alfred's unresponsive hand. He felt quite suddenly as if Alfred were the princess, asleep in a glass coffin, and he wondered for a childish moment if true love's kiss would do him any good at all. He started to cry. Before the nurses could tell him not to, Arthur leaned over and kissed what was likely Alfred's cheek, but with all the bandaging and the blood it was hard to tell.

"I love you, Alfred Jones. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me," Arthur whispered harshly before he left, and Richard caught him outside the room and hugged him tightly. They stood like that for a long time, and Arthur realized that in a few years, Alfred would look just like his father—strong and broad shouldered, with a firm grip and a dazzling smile. At least, he would have, if this attack didn't take everything away.

"You made him happy. He loved you. Anyone could see that. I should have been happy for him. God knows how many nights I spent worrying he'd never fit in—that he'd never find someone to see just how damned special he was…I owe you both an apology. If he survives this, I promise I'll make it up to him. All those years I kept my distance…all that time I let him think he wasn't good enough…I was so wrong. So terribly wrong."

Arthur nodded weakly against the tall man's chest and felt himself being squeezed one final time before Richard released him. Alfred's father still kept a firm grip on Arthur's shoulder as they returned to the room. Helen had cried herself out and was passed out harmlessly against Arthur's mother.

"She was at a charity luncheon—she always drinks too much at those. I'm sorry," Richard said a bit helplessly. Mary just shushed him and shook her head.

"She's fine. Don't you fret. We mothers have trouble staying strong when our babies are hurt," she said with a sympathetic smile at Arthur. He crossed to where she sat and took the seat on the other side of her. He rested his head against her shoulder again, just staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Time crawled.

People came and went—all Richard and Helen's friends and relatives—and at some point, two cots were brought for Alfred's parents. Mary and Arthur had to go home. Helen had awoken by that point and regained some of her senses. She promised Arthur he could come back tomorrow if he wanted, or if it was too much, she'd call him whenever they heard anything new.

So they left, tired and exhausted, only to face the swell of paparazzi as they exited the hospital. They were engulfed by CIA and escorted to the White House, where they were given the Queen's Room. Arthur, however, left his mother to get settled and made a bee line for Alfred's room.

His cat meowed plaintively at him from Alfred's bed.

"Hullo, Ellie," Arthur said, greeting the big, fluffy white cat. She had a dark ring of fur around her neck and some darker spots on her tail. She was very fond of Arthur. When he'd visited earlier in the summer, Ellie had followed him like a shadow. Now that he was busy with school, Alfred didn't see her much. She'd mostly become Helen's cat.

"Meoooow!"

"I know, girl. You can tell something's wrong, can't you? Come here, poppet," Arthur said gently, as he scooped her into his arms. The room smelled like Alfred. Arthur hugged the cat for awhile, soaking up the comfort she offered, and then returned her to the bed. He dug around in Alfred's dresser until he found some forgotten pajamas and pants. He found one of Alfred's numerous super hero shirts—soft and worn with use and love—and pressed it to his face to feel Alfred's warmth against his cheeks and lips again. He ended up on the bed, sobbing into the shirt, and wishing it was Alfred.

The shirt was far too large on him, but without it, he likely never would have slept. Wrapped in Alfred's smell and feel, he could pretend he was not alone in the bed and drift off after he'd cried himself dry.

Two weeks. It felt like a small eternity. Things were going on at school—finals and dances and games—but Arthur wasn't there for any of it. Alfred's hospital room had become his second home. It was filled with bright balloons, cards, and get-well-soon gifts. Trusted friends came and went, and Alfred's mother kept him constant company. Together they delighted each time Alfred stayed awake a little longer, or managed to speak sensibly. He mostly asked questions about where he was, and what had happened to him, but he knew who they were and he remembered who he was.

He forgot other things, though, like how to drink from a glass, or what to do with a fork.

"Like this, love," Arthur said softly as he coaxed Alfred into lifting his water glass. Helen was sitting comfortably nearby, tapping away on her laptop. She'd turned part of Alfred's large suite into a miniature office and worked and slept there. Arthur stayed, too, partially because he didn't want to leave Alfred's side and partially because he was too frightened to go back to the school alone.

The bat that had been used to attack Alfred was his own—indicating what Arthur had already long suspected. There was a horrible breach in World Academy's security. At the time of Alfred's attack, he had been alone due to the fact that he'd skipped school with Ivan that day. Arthur had known he was skipping class, and he'd wanted to chastise him for it, but he hadn't because things were still so fragile between them and the last thing he'd wanted to do was nag.

He should have reminded Alfred to stay with Ivan, or to call his security team to let them know he was out running errands. There were many things Arthur should have done, but didn't, and now he simply had to let the mistakes of the past go.

"Arthur, I need to tell you something," Alfred said slowly and carefully. It was difficult for him to speak clearly at first, but he was getting better and better every day. The doctors said it was a minor miracle that he was recovering so well from the kind of injury he'd sustained.

"Yes?" Arthur asked, carefully setting down the water glass. He sat on Alfred's bedside, where there were blessedly few wires and monitors now. The shunt was removed from Alfred's head, and aside from heavy bandaging, Alfred was recognizable again. He still had a rather nasty black eye and a busted lip, though.

"I remember…something…cookies," Alfred said, clearly drifting in and out of awareness as he spoke.

"You remembered something about cookies? You were buying me cookies just before the attack. Is that what you mean?" Arthur prompted. They had this discussion at least three or four times a day, but Arthur never ran out of patience. It kind of surprised him just how nurturing he could be. It was clearly a relief to Helen. While she was there and did what the nurses asked, it was clear she struggled to give Alfred what he needed. It was almost like she was blocked, or simply didn't know how. Arthur, however, was a natural. So much so that the nurses said he needed to go into nursing.

Arthur figured it was just because the patient was his beloved.

"I got you your favorites. Did you eat them already?" Alfred asked.

"No, love, they didn't bring the cookies with you to the hospital. Would you like some cookies?"

"No. More water, please," Alfred said, as if he were a little disappointed. Likely because he'd failed yet again to remember what he wanted to tell Arthur, or because it saddened him that Arthur hadn't gotten to eat his romantic surprise.

"Here," Arthur said. "You can hold your glass," Arthur said. He would do anything for Alfred, of course, but he wanted Alfred to regain independence. That meant he needed to be pushed a little. Alfred took the glass and stared at it blankly for a few moments before he surprised Arthur and Helen both by actually lifting the glass to his lips and drinking from it. Arthur turned towards Helen with a huge smile, which she mirrored.

"Just like that! That's fantastic, Alfred," Arthur said, beaming. Alfred swallowed some more of his water and put it down on his bed tray. He lifted his hand to Arthur's cheek, two of his fingers still taped together and splinted, and gave Arthur a rather soft caress.

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world, huh?" he asked sweetly. Arthur leaned into the touch and smiled.

"No, that's my line," Arthur leaned forward without hesitation and softly kissed Alfred's lips. At first, he shied away from physical contact in front of Helen, but it soon became obvious that the little touches and kisses seemed to make Alfred better. His eyes sparkled and he became more clear headed. Arthur had always loved fairy tales as a boy, and he thought secretly that there was something to be said for the healing power of true love kisses after all.

Matthew and Francis smiled warmly at Alfred as they entered his hospital room.

"How is the patient today?" Francis asked. He came bearing a spray of pink and yellow roses. Matthew brought a bag of cheeseburgers. Alfred lit up at the sight of the cheeseburgers while Arthur rolled his eyes and got some fresh water for the roses. Helen was out, but only for awhile. She still went home occasionally to manage things at the White House and sleep a bit or change. Arthur, however, pretty much lived in Alfred's hospital room, which was under guard 24/7. He knew he was hiding away, but he couldn't leave Alfred. Not even for a second.

It had been three weeks, but Alfred's prognosis was very good. His ribs were healing, and he became clearer and more alert each day. The doctors were relieved—none of them wished to be responsible for losing the president's son on their watch, and the nurses claimed it was Arthur's faithful attention that was healing the teen.

"Hi Mattie! Those are for me, right?" Alfred commented happily. He got excited over each new get-well gift, but he especially loved those who brought him fast food.

"All for you, and a salad for Arthur," Matthew said. Alfred still moved a little sluggishly, but Arthur had pretty much gotten used to it. In reality, before the attack, Alfred had been so hyper that it seemed like he did everything doubly fast. Now he just seemed like he moved at a more calm, regular speed. It was still a little off-putting at times, though. Despite his obvious joy, Alfred was very slow about unwrapping his first burger. He had to consciously focus on how he moved and what the things around him did. He tried very hard to be "normal" though—for Arthur's sake. He could see how it upset the other boy when he forgot things he was supposed to know, even if Arthur tried to hide it.

Arthur smiled at him in pride as he managed to eat the first burger all on his own, with no mishaps or spills.

"We've got some big news," Francis said with a smile.

"Oh?" Arthur asked. The roses really were lovely. He suspected Francis had brought them more for Arthur's sake than for Alfred's.

"The police arrested Franklin. Something didn't check out with his alibi for when Alfred was attacked," Matthew said. Arthur's hands froze on the roses, and in his bed, Alfred frowned. Any talk of the attack troubled Alfred now. He couldn't remember what happened to him leading up to the attack or after it. The last thing he remembered was sneaking into a movie with Ivan. As the days had passed, he'd forgotten about buying Arthur the tin of cookies or the flowers for Mrs. Kirkland.

"I suppose that is suspicious…but I just don't think it was him. It doesn't feel right," Arthur said quietly. Francis and Matthew exchanged a look.

"They investigated Celio as you asked, Arthur, but his alibi came through," Francis said.

"Gabriel is covering for him. I just know it," Arthur spat in disgust. Matthew sighed and Alfred began to carefully eat his second burger.

"You really think it's him?" Matthew asked.

"I don't know. I just wish his alibi was a little more solid. For some reason, it was easy to trust Franklin. He could have hurt me plenty of times but he…well…I suppose you can't really know anyone," Arthur said sadly.

"Arthur," Alfred said. Arthur turned instantly, distracted away from the roses.

"Yes, love?" he asked, moving to the bedside. Alfred looked embarrassed as he held the food in his hands. His hands were shaking. His brows knitted together and Arthur could see the frustration there, plain as day. "Are you still feeling hungry?" he asked gently. Alfred nodded, but his movements were even more sluggish than normal. Mathew and Francis exchanged worried looks.

"Yeeeessss," Alfred replied, but the word stretched unnaturally and he began to sweat with exertion. Arthur gently sat beside him and took Alfred's face into his hands, breaking his concentration on the burger.

"If you're still hungry, you should eat another burger. If you're not feeling well, we can save it for later," Arthur wiped the sweat off Alfred's brow with a spare napkin and then kissed the other boy where he was furrowing his eyebrows in frustration.

"Mmmm—mm—" Alfred said, clearly still trying to push himself to say something.

"McDonalds?" Matthew suggested helplessly. Sympathetically, Francis held Matthew's hand. It was hard to see Alfred like that.

"Mmm—mmm!" Alfred insisted. His heart rate began to elevate and Arthur calmed him down the best way he knew. Softly, he began to sing a silly little lullaby his mother had sang to him as a boy. He carded his fingers through Alfred's oily bangs and eased him back down against his pillows. The song worked like magic and the stress eased off Alfred's face.

"I'm not done eating," Alfred said, as if he were a little confused as to why Arthur was singing him to sleep. His voice sounded almost normal again, and Arthur sighed in relief.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Eat your fill, love," Arthur said. He moved back a bit and Alfred more confidently brought the burger up to his mouth.

"Should we go?" Matthew asked nervously. Arthur gave a small shrug.

"He seems okay now, don't you Alfred?"

Alfred flashed a smile at Matthew and swallowed the last of the burger.

"Thanks for the food, Mattie!" he said brightly. Matthew relaxed a bit and smiled back.

"Any time, Alfie. Do you want me to read you my latest story? You'll like it. I wrote it just for you," Matthew offered. Alfred smiled in delight and patted the side of the bed where Arthur wasn't sitting.

"Yeah! Too slow to play video games. You gotta save me from boredom!" Alfred said. Matthew smiled and pulled out a fairly thick stack of printed pages. Arthur smiled in gratitude. The stories Matthew told were all ones he'd written specifically for Alfred—stories about things they'd done together in the past two years, inside jokes they'd shared, and memories that were positive and happy. At first, Alfred hadn't remembered any of them, but now he could add his own details to the retellings and ask questions about things that happened afterwards, if his memory was still fuzzy.

It also took at least an hour, and allowed Arthur the chance to shower and clean up a bit. He headed to the connected restroom with some fresh clothes. Francis settled in to read a magazine, half listening to the old stories Matthew was spinning.

When Arthur emerged from the shower, Helen was back with more food and entertainment. She'd brought some new movies and before Matthew and Francis left, they all watched a movie together. When it was done, visiting hours were almost over and it was time for Alfred's dinner and sponge bath.

Matthew hugged Alfred before he left, being mindful of all the bandages and monitors. Francis hugged Arthur and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze.

"Hang in there, Arthur. You are a hero, you know that? A fitting pair, the two of you," Francis asked with a proud smile. Arthur just blushed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, Alfred can't get all the glory all the time, now can he?" Arthur replied. The two friends left and the nurse came in. Helen stepped out once more. In the beginning, she'd stayed, but once Alfred was feeling more like himself he'd been embarrassed when his mother stayed while he was changed or cleaned. He'd made a fuss about Arthur having to help bathe him, too, but Arthur had rather wickedly whispered in his ear that he enjoyed taking care of him and that was the end of that.

Arthur and the nurse made a good team. They efficiently changed the sheets (Alfred was still not coordinated enough to stand without practically being held yet) and Arthur began to help wash away the grime and oil. They couldn't get to Alfred's hair very well because of the bandaging, but they did the best they could.

They let Alfred brush his teeth all on his own—a task which had taken him almost the full three weeks to relearn. After Alfred was done with his teeth brushing, the doctor popped in.

"How's my miracle patient tonight?" the neurosurgeon asked brightly. Alfred smiled at him and said hello. The doctor greeted Helen and Arthur by name and then settled onto a rolling chair. He flipped through Alfred's papers a bit, checked the surgery site on the back of his head, and asked him how his ribs felt.

"It's all looking really great. I've talked it over with the team and we think Alfred will be able to go home after another week. What do you think of that, Alfred?"

"That's great," Alfred said honestly. He hated being cooped up anywhere, and that hadn't changed after the attack.

"What about his physical therapy?" Helen asked.

"That would continue at home, of course, with a nurse that would come by daily. We'll give you some exercises you can do with him—you know most of them already—and he'll need to have a hospital bed at home. Other than that, he'll need to come back in ten days or so to have the sutures removed."

"Will he be able to walk by then?" Helen asked doubtfully.

"Yes, we think so. The muscle is there—it's just weak. He just needs practice. The physical therapist will have him up and moving before we release him. Did you have any other questions?" he asked with a friendly smile. He was a nice guy, and they'd gotten to know him fairly well in the three weeks they'd been there. Helen shook her head no and Arthur worried his bottom lip.

"Just one…will Alfred ever be able to remember the attack?" Arthur asked. He knew it troubled Alfred greatly that such a crucial (though painful) memory was simply missing. If Alfred could remember, it also meant they'd know for sure who was trying to torment them. Understanding Arthur's desperation, the doctor frowned in sympathy.

"I know it's hard, but it's very common for trauma victims to forget the attack. His recall of other memories has been extremely impressive though, and he's bouncing back so quickly, that I'd be willing to bet Alfred will eventually recover the memory. It's just going to take time."

"Thank you, Doctor," Arthur said. He squeezed Alfred's hand, and his boyfriend flashed him a sad smile.

"Alright then, well you guys have a good night and you just call if you need anything," the doctor said before he left for the evening.

One more week. That would mean they'd both been out of school for a full month. Arthur had been doing his school work religiously and essentially doing Alfred's for him. Mr. Allowick came twice a week to collect their assignments and check up on Alfred, and he repeatedly told Arthur not to worry—both of them would be moving on to the next grade. Everyone felt pretty horrible about what had happened to them, and the school's lack of security was partially to blame.

"Mom, why don't you go home for the night? That cot can't be comfortable," Alfred said caringly. Helen looked highly tempted by the offer. Arthur was quick to encourage her.

"We'll be fine. I won't leave his side, and I'm a light sleeper, you know," Arthur reminded. Most nights, Helen passed out like a log anyway. Arthur was the one to get Alfred whatever he needed in the night.

"If you're sure…I would like to spend some time with Richard. He's been holding down the fort on his own and I can give him a break for a few hours if I head home now. You sure you boys will be alright?" she asked. Arthur and Alfred both nodded. A little reluctantly, Helen finally agreed and left with the dirty laundry.

"Finally!" Alfred joked. "Now come over here so I can kiss you properly," Alfred said. Arthur felt the warmth and the love of Alfred's words wash over him like stepping into a warm shower. He couldn't think about how close he'd come to losing his boy. It was too painful to imagine a life where Alfred's voice didn't drop a little lower and huskily beg him for kisses.

Arthur crawled up beside Alfred on the bed, mindful of his IV, and gently kissed the other boy on the lips. He felt the scab of Alfred's busted lip, but he was as gentle as he could possibly be. It was Alfred who deepened the kiss and sucked Arthur's bottom lip until he yielded and let their tongues battle sensuously. Alfred's good hand rubbed up Arthur's side, under his shirt, feeling the dip between each rib.

"Too skinny, honey," Alfred said when they broke apart. Alfred was breathing heavily, clearly a little winded by the heightened activity. Arthur smiled. It had been a long time since Alfred called him a sappy pet name. Arthur had thought he'd finally broken the other boy out of the habit. Now though, he didn't mind so much.

"I eat plenty," Arthur replied. Alfred's hand continued to caress his side and Arthur wanted to strip off all his clothes and lay in Alfred's arms. It had been so long. They didn't have to have sex, but he just wanted to feel his boyfriend's touch, skin to skin.

"I love you, Artie. You're my angel, you know that?"

"No," Arthur laughed, "I'm your nurse."

"Angel, nurse…don't care as long as the skirt's short," Alfred replied roguishly. Arthur blushed and shook his head in mock judgment. "Oh, don't give me that look. You've been shamelessly checking me out during those sponge baths."

Forgetting all about Alfred's injuries, Arthur lightly slapped the other boy's upper arm.

"Shut it, git!" Arthur pouted for a moment, and then captured Alfred's lips in another soft kiss.

"Lay down, babe. Get comfortable. You can share with me tonight."

"The nurse will be scandalized," Arthur replied. Alfred just grinned.

"Naw, she thinks I'm cute. She'll forgive us," Alfred replied. Arthur rolled his eyes but did as Alfred suggested. Settling on the side opposite Alfred's IV, he curled up against his tall boyfriend and finally, finally, relaxed completely.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll tell you what…if you can remember what happened to you…I might just be able to get my hands on a nurse's uniform."

"Damn! Arthur! You know I'd remember if I could!" Alfred protested. Arthur chuckled darkly.

"I guess you'll just have to try harder if you want a checkup from Nurse Kirkland."

"You're mean," Alfred pouted. Arthur snickered against Alfred's warm hospital gown.

"If I'm so mean, I suppose I don't have to sing to you tonight," Arthur replied. Alfred gave him a one-armed squeeze around his shoulders.

"Please?" he begged sweetly. Arthur sighed, but really didn't mind at all. He began to sing, low and soothing, until his own eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off rather peacefully.

Alfred smiled at the slumbering teen and finally allowed himself to believe it was going to be okay. He'd remember. He would remember no matter what. Then they'd know who was trying to ruin their happiness, and they'd finally catch him and end the hell he'd inflicted.

Even so, Alfred knew he'd relive it all a million times over so long as he ended up right where he was—with the most amazing boy in the world tucked against his side, completely in love and stronger together than ever before.

A/N: Not done yet, but we're getting there! I'm so happy some of you picked up on the underlying WW2 theme. Granted, it's pretty subtle. I wasn't about to make Ludwig be the rapist or anything, but I did want to show England vulnerable and hurting, and America trying to be supportive from a distance, and then the direct attack against America.

One reviewer was a little irritated that Ivan and Alfred were friends, citing the fact that Russia and America are not best buddies in real life, but I drew inspiration from their friendship based on their space alliance. Competitive at first, true, but something really amazing came out of that competition and kind of united us together in a unique bit of shared history. At least, that's my justification anyway. Plus, none of the cannon Hetalia characters are ever really aggressive to each other or hold grudges, despite what's happened in history. It is a light-hearted comedy show, after all.

Hope this set your minds at ease. A few loose ends to tie up and we'll be at the end, my friends. Seems crazy to think about, but your support is what has gotten me through!