Based off of the short story: We Don't Talk About Sarah

Warning: kidnapping, child-abuse, Arthur whumpage

Long chapter this time. Finally, we get to skip about time. And things are finally starting to really heat up.

We Don't Talk About Uncle Francis

Chapter 8: What Do I Do?

Alfred: 11 ~~ Matthew: 11 ~~ Arthur: 11/12

Point of View: Alfred

It started on the first day of school, the second I walked through the front door I could just tell. The air was thick and my stomach filled with dread. I was greeted by Uncle Francis but ignored him in favor of kicking off my shoes and going to my room as fast as possible.

"Arthur!" I shouted throwing open the door.

My eyes widened at the sight of the black eye. He raised his hand to cover it quickly but it was too late, I had already seen it.

"What happened?" I pulled his hand away.

He turned his head away from me. "Nothing, I was getting something out of the cupboard and misjudged the distance between myself and the door. That's all. I'm fine."

Of course, I didn't believe him. So I asked Uncle Francis about it.

"How did Arthur get a black eye?" I asked.

He gave me a questioning look. "Black eye? Mon Dieu! Is he alright?"

I nodded and walked away. If no one was going to tell me I would stop asking, but I would keep a better eye on things from now on. As the school year went by, I found the occasional bruise or scratch become more frequent as well as the times when I would hold him as he cried into my shoulder. It was one of those nights when everything came crashing down on me. It was late September, Arthur had curled up so that his head was on my thigh and his knees were close to his chest. It had been late, about an hour since the Brit had cried himself to sleep, and since I wasn't tired, I turned on the small television that only got a few channels. I flipped through them looking for any good movies or shows and just as I changed the channel, the battery in the remote died.

I groaned, glaring at the news lady with the annoying voice. With one hand I rummaged through my nightstand drawers while I kept focused on the news out of curiosity. I stopped almost immediately. I couldn't believe my eyes. There, on the television, was a picture of the very same boy who was sleeping on my leg. I found the batteries and popped them in before turning up the volume.

"It's been one month since Arthur Kirkland has disappeared. Tonight, his family returns to their home in the United Kingdom. We're live at the airport, Donald."

"We'll thank you Karen, I'm standing with the Kirkland family now. They're going to be boarding in just a few minutes." He shoved the microphone in some teenager's face with pale blonde hair. "What do you think about all this?"

"I… umm… well…" He sputtered.

"Don' ya t'ink 'at 'e've 'ad enough?" the camera turned to an elder boy with fiery red locks and piercingly cold blue eyes. "Ya Americans are annoying, sticking yer noses were they don' belong. Git yer cameras outta our faces."

The scene changed back to the annoying news anchor lady. "Well, that older brother of his has a bit of a temper doesn't he? Police will continue to search for the missing boy but for now, we can only hope that wherever Arthur is he is safe."

I shut off the TV and looked down at Arthur. This couldn't be true… it simply… made a lot of sense actually. Did Uncle kidnap him? Just the possibility had opened up a whole new window of questions. Had he kidnapped anyone else? What if Mattie and I had actually been kidnapped by him? Where were our parents? Was he even our real uncle?

I pulled the covers over Arthur and me, knowing that there was no possibility of sleep tonight. His sleeping face looked so peaceful, free for the moment. I wondered what had occurred during his stay here. Was Francis responsible for all of the wounds that had been appearing on Arthur's skin? I pulled him close, not wanting to even think about it at the moment. I would keep him safe until he had a chance to escape.

To do so, I found myself skipping school. Feigning sickness whenever his injuries were at their worst. Arthur could tell when I really wasn't sick; he'd shoot me a questioning or knowing look sometimes but I'd only smile back.

During April, I had walked in on him while he drew what looked to be a birthday cake. I leaned against the doorframe and just watched as he childishly blew on the candle that wouldn't go out.

"I wish to be free." I had barely caught it.

I frowned, saddened by the memory that he was a captive here. Quickly, I threw on a smile. "Is it your birthday?" He jumped, "Stay here."

I had returned with two chocolate chip cookies in hand. I watched in slight amusement as his emerald eyes lit up. "How about I fulfill that wish of yours?" I offered once both our cookies were gone.

He nodded rapidly. "Follow me." I tip toed down the stairs making sure to close my bedroom door.

I pushed him behind the wall and told him to stay put and stay quiet. "Uncle Francis, I'm going to bed now." I announced into the living room.

"Would you like me to tuck you in, mon cher?" he offered but I declined, "Alright then, goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight Uncle Francis." I started on our journey again; praying that with each step I took the floor wouldn't creek.

It seemed like forever before we reached the back door. I opened it just enough so the two of us could get out. Arthur bolted off the porch and into the grass. The wind pulled back his hair and caught on his clothes. I ran after him, easily catching up to him in his weakened state. This was foolish of me. He couldn't leave now, he wasn't ready. He'd probably die before he got anywhere.

"Arthur, stop!" I yelled only to watch as he crumbled to the ground.

I hurried over to him. "I-I have to… I can't stop now. I'm so close." Fat tears were in his eyes.

"I… I know, Arthur." I admitted, "I know almost everything."

He looked up at me with wide wild eyes. "You knew? You knew and you didn't do anything? Alfred, I thought you were my friend here. I thought you actually wanted to help me! To be a hero like you always go on about!"

"Let me see your ankle." I tried to change the subject.

"No, Alfred. Don't touch me. Stay away from me!"

I shook my head. "You don't understand." I said quietly, "I want to help, I really do but," I looked him over, just skin and bones really, "you can't do this now."

He shouted at me, "I can! I can and I will!"

"No, Artie. You can't." I persisted, "Just look at yourself, you're skin and bones! How far do you think you're going to get? The edge of the woods maybe? How long will you be lying on the ground until something comes and makes you its dinner? How far are you going to get with that ankle? I can see it's swollen from here."

"But I have to."

I held my arms open. "Please, wait. Wait until we can think of a better plan than this. Let me help you."

I ended up carrying him back. His ankle twisted and in desperate need of ice. Unfortunately, Francis met us at the door.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked, voice full of knowing contempt.

I shrugged, "Nothing. Thought we saw a shooting star and we wanted to make a wish."

Francis raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really now? Well, why didn't you take Matthew with you? It's not good to leave him by himself for long." He kept talking as I got an ice pack from the freezer. "He's always been accident prone. Be a shame if while you were out going for a run, something serious happened and you weren't there to help him."

I slammed the door shut. "Don't you dare lay a finger on him!" I growled, "If anything happens to him, I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! You god damn asshole! How dare you even think about it! You're a no good mother-"

"Alfred?" I heard the soft voice behind me, "Why are you screaming at Papa?"

"Don't call him that, he's our uncle not our father." The affectionate nickname Mattie had given our uncle suddenly made me sick. "Come on, Mattie. Let's go to bed."

I didn't spare a look back at the bastard. I'm sure if I had seen the smirk he was wearing, I would have killed him, right then and there.

HE KNOWS! FINALLY! Sorry for getting everyone's hopes up by almost letting Arthur be free. Hopefully, I didn't crush it too badly... It needs to be repaired a bit before I crush it again :D

I'm not a sadist...

This finding out happened a bit eariler than I thought. Alfred wasn't supposed to know until he was 15... oh well...

Can I possibly get ten reviews for the next chapter? I have faith in you bros! I know you can do this!

-needs more time to write and figure out what's going on-

Review, alert and fav please!