Chapter 6: No Way Out
"Do you understand what you just did?"
America sat silently, staring down at the Presidential Seal on the floor of the Oval Office. He tapped his fingers together silently, avoiding the hard gaze of his boss. The President continued to stare at him for a moment or two before leaning back in his seat, sighing in exasperation.
"You need to think before you speak Alfred. You know that diplomatic relations with the United Kingdom have been on a steady decline, and now you practically threaten to commit a federal crime in their own country?"
America removed Texas, rubbing the lenses on his jacket, before putting them back. The President sighed once again.
"You do know that it is considered rude to ignore the President?"
America spoke for the first time that evening.
"I'm not ignoring you. I just didn't have anything to say."
The President studied his nation for a moment, wondering just what could possibly be going through the man's head. His usual 'hero' attitude was gone, and he wasn't smiling. He looked rather depressed, and tired, as if he hadn't slept much the previous night. Come to think of it, he probably hadn't. Obama opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut short as Alfred started to talk.
"He's always been there for me, even after the Revolution. I need to be there for him."
Obama raised an eyebrow. Of course, America was referring to England. It was true, Great Britain had always been America's closest ally. The Prime Minister had always backed them up before, and Arthur was always there to make sure they aided America in each and every crisis the country found itself in. Even if he had thought that Alfred's ideas were ludicrous, he had backed them up anyways.
Alfred looked up, tiredness evident in the shadows under his eyes.
"Remember the attacks? Iggy was the first to support me, to care for me. He was always by my side, until I was able to walk on my own again. Then we went to war together. I- I can't just leave him in there."
Now it was the President's turn to remain silent. Alfred never brought up those events... It was agreed upon that they would move on when they had taken the terrorist leader's life. He was truly hurt. America breathed heavily before looking down again.
"I just don't know what to do anymore."
Obama rested his head in his hand.
"I'm sorry Alfred."
XxXxXxXxXx
Life was most certainly boring for Arthur. At least he wasn't locked away in solitary confinement. Currently, his hands were strapped tightly to the sides of the brown chair he reclined in. His doctor sat in front of him behind a large oak desk, a single lamp casting depressing shadows across the room. Doctor Vincent eyed his patient with an interested smirk. Arthur was quite rude, actually. It was very distasteful, after the reports had told the grey doctor that Arthur was really quite a gentleman, reserved and quiet. It now appeared that that was not the case.
"Let's try this again, shall we Arthur?"
Arthur did not let his eyes leave the wall as he retorted.
"Does your wife love you? Probably not, if you even had one. You look like the lonely, rejected type."
The doctor smiled, barely concealing a small chuckle as he shook his head.
"My relationships are a personal matter, Mr. Kirkland. Now, let's discuss these visions of yours. The one you call Hook?"
"You know, it really wouldn't surprise me if you turned out to be a woman. I could definitely see that."
Doctor Vincent chose to ignore the comment.
"This Hook, the recordings we've gathered... He seems to have grown violent, by average standards. When schizophrenics see increasingly violent images, we develop a problem. Patients develop a tendency to physically lash out at real people. I've actually seen patients believe that a hallucination has murdered somebody, when in actuality, they had committed the crime. You understand the consequences of that, right Mr. Kirkland?"
Arthur just smirked.
"That's not me doctor. I'm not a violent man. Though I'm sure you are. The type of man who would beat his children regularly if he had some, correct?"
Vincent frowned a bit at that. Really, it was quite distasteful for someone of such status to say these things. It was almost as if he were oblivious to the microphone on the desk, recording every word he said.
"Arthur, if we could just make a breakthrough with you, then maybe we could negotiate an early release? Or at least a form of leave. Doesn't that sound nice?"
"Don't call me Arthur. It's not your place."
"Then what is my place Arthur?"
England's eye twitched, and he shut his eyes tight.
"Why, I don't know, maybe six feet under? Or maybe Hell would suit you better?"
"Come now, let's make some progress. Have the visions become violent?"
"They're bloody real you ignorant-"
"Have they killed anyone?"
"Shut up, or-"
"I have the files."
Arthur stopped short, his breath hitching. Files? The files that Zak had told him to retrieve? If he could get them, unveil the conspiracy... He would be free, he'd have the place shut down.
"What files?"
"The ones he told you to get. Before he died."
They were Zak's files. England was breathing heavily, and sweating a bit. He strained against his bindings, the damned straps bit into his wrists horribly.
"Give them to me, bloody give them!"
"If you want them, come get them."
England cried out in desperation.
"I can't! I'm tied down, I can't! Give them over, please just give them to me!"
"Get them yourself Mr. Kirkland, you are capable. Stand, and take the files from my desk."
"You bastard, stop it! This is torture, you sick bastard!" England screamed now, sobs wracking through his body.
"You aren't tied down Mr. Kirkland. You were never tied down."
The world seemed to go still. England looked down to discover that, indeed, there were no straps on his wrists. Faint marks from previous straps were still visible on his slender wrists, but he was most certainly not tied down now. It made no sense. England blinked, expecting the straps to have returned, but they did not. He raised his hands in disbelief. Finally, he turned to Doctor Vincent, who held the files in his hand, setting them gently on his desk, smiling softly.
"Take them."
England reached out tentatively, fingers grazing the manilla envelope.
"It's alright. Look inside." England looked up with a hesitant flicker of disbelief, before opening the folder.
XxXxXxXxXx
France realized that his heart was pounding as Germany parked his car outside the large hospital on the outskirts of London. It was raining, a common occurrence in Britain, though today it just made the entire situation seem depressing and ominous. Germany turned the car off and sighed, brushing in imaginary bit of dirt from his suit sleeve.
"Alright Germany, let's go. Maybe we can see Angleterre as well."
"Ja," Germany said with a sigh.
They stepped out of the car, Germany clutching the UN stamped search warrant in his fist. Their expensive shoes clacked across the cobblestones as they walked across the courtyard, echoing off the high walls that surrounded the courtyard. Two guards stood at either side of the front doors, arms folded and eyes hidden by sunglasses. France couldn't help but think that the entryway, with all its security, looked very American. Germany handed one the warrant, and both looked to it, before nodding in unison and handing it back.
"Let's go. If we find any violation of policy, we report it to the Prime Minister as quickly as possible," Germany said.
France nodded, and they walked in. The front lobby was stuffy and grey, much like the rest of the hospital. They ignored the lobby, instead moving towards the hallway that held the first group of containment cells, Sector 1. Relatively low guard, the doors were made entirely of plexiglass, allowing a full view of the patients inside. They wore gray pants, and no shirts. Some smirked at the sight of the two official looking men, others sending rude gestures their way. There was no sign of anything illegal. France was disappointed. He had hoped they could easily find something, but it appeared that it would take more careful searching. Sector 2 was a bit more interesting. The patients here were under higher security, with guards posted at either end of the long hallway. The cell doors were metal, and some patients were restrained to the beds by straps on their wrists and ankles. There was laughter, and hissing as the two peered into cells.
"Can they really restrain them like that?" France asked, hoping that the answer was no.
"Ja, if they pose a threat to themselves or others. It is legal," Germany said.
The center of the hospital held the dining halls, and the Socialization rooms 1 and 2. They appeared to be large gymnasium type of rooms, with tables and hopscotch squares scattered around the floor. France frowned, realizing that it was quite legal looking. He sighed, and they continued through the dining halls. They thoroughly inspected each room, though all file cabinets in the information rooms were locked. They eventually came to the office areas, stopping outside of one. The plaque on the door read Vincent, Karl. France knocked slowly.
"Enter," the bored, English drawl came through a speaker next to the door.
They walked in, finding the doctor behind his desk, hands folded. He wore a dull smile.
"I saw you both traipsing around the facility. I assume it has met your standards?"
France scowled.
"We have not yet seen Sector 3, or solitary confinement. We simply wished to ask if we could see Arthur."
The doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Arthur has fallen ill, unfortunately. He is in the medical section, we have yet to determine his ailment, though it is leaning towards one of a... psychological nature."
Germany narrowed his eyes. France looked livid.
"What the hell did you do to him? We need to see him!"
"Ah, no visitors, I'm afraid. Next week, perhaps."
France stepped forward.
"Non, we must see him now!"
"That was not in the warrant, Mr. Bonnefoy. You may continue your search, though you will not see Arthur."
He waved his hand and smiled. France growled, tensing up. Germany gripped his shoulder and shook his head in a firm "no." France resigned, simply leering at the doctor before they turned and left, slamming the door a bit harder than necessary.
"I hate that man," France said, quivering a bit in anger.
"I know. But please, we must continue. Ignore him for now," Germany said calmly, and France nodded.
Sector 3 was by far the most interesting thing yet. Here, the patients were all tied down to hard looking cots, wearing a jumpsuit, and most remaining silent. Some cried in the rooms, and some spoke to nothing. Armed guards held assault rifles at intervals throughout the hallway, looking warily at the nations. France bit his lip. It was a melancholy sight, really. It was also quite frustrating, as nothing seemed to be illegal.
"Well, that's the entire facility. We've been in here for nearly three hours Francis," Germany said, looking disappointed.
France made a small 'oh' when he realized just how long they had really been there. He seemed to ponder something for a moment.
"Angleterre has mentioned something in the past. It was just casual I think, but I'm sure he mentioned a fourth cell section."
"Hmm? That is a bit odd... Are you sure Francis?"
"I think so. It may be nothing. We've scaled the entire facility, oui?"
"Ja, that should be everything. Let's go, shall we?"
France looked hesitantly around the cell block, before nodding. The two left, disappointment and a bit of anger brewing in their hearts.
A/n: Okay, I am so sorry that I havn't updated! Oh my god, I can't believe it has been this long since I updated, I am sorry sorry sorry! I hope this chapter isn't bad /: forgive me? Let me know what you think, I thought a few interesting things happened in this chapter, but thinking back im not sure how good it really is... R&R :)