Not Over Yet

Part 6

Starlight, sunlight, and moonlight were all types of light, were they not? Even if they were all related, they were still different. The sun was technically a star, the sun was the brightest star in respect to earth. The other star may have actually had more power, but the sun would always been more visible. Then, the moon reflected the sun's light. Even if it was technically the sun's light, the moon softened it and made it its own. As far as Arthur was concerned this fit the Jones' household perfectly. Nikkita was the moon, in reality as well as metaphorically, because she made the light distinctly her own when she choose to show it. Jackson was a star, unlike Arthur had believed at first. For a while he had assumed Jackson would have had to have been a shadow like himself, but after living with him he was convinced he was too like his brother for that. However, there were many differences, especially in that he could fade into the background when he pleased. So he was a star that could very well burn brighter than the sun, but merely shimmered in the black sky. Finally, Alfred was the sun that they all revolved around, the public face of America and foundation of the household. And he was a shadow, though he supposed he was not alone in that. Matthew, too, was a shadow. He was not sure where Russia fit in, if he even could or, better yet, should, but he and Matthew were shadows while those three were very distinct lights. If Arthur was annoyed enough, Francis could have been a passing comet, but these other identities were undeniable. That was why he decided that he would not go through this alone this time, or, rather, who he decided to go through this with.

"Arthur, what happened, eh? Is Alfred hurt? Is that why I had to rush down here?"

Right after he gathered his senses enough after Nikkita had left, Arthur did the first thing that popped into his head, he called Matthew. Only then did he learn what time in the morning it was. Whoops.

"No, he is not hurt, but you still need to be here." Arthur assured.

"Is it Jackson, then!?" the Canadian pressed, growing even more worried.

Ever since Alfred and Jackson had gotten back home after their escapades in Europe Matthew had made it a point to keep his presence almost constant until he was accepted by his youngest brother, who had not been happy with the prospect of having another housemate. Alfred had done everything he could to defuse the tension and Jackson had been his usual civil self, but he was not opening up. Unlike with Arthur, he did not have a promise with Alfred making him try his hardest. Instead, the Southern teen made himself scarce by sticking to his own residences that no one but Alfred knew the locations of, and he was sworn to secrecy. Mathew was not going to give up, but it had been pretty discouraging until there was finally a break in Jackson's shield: music. It had been Alfred who set it up from the beginning. He had bought random concert tickets, two, with every intention of backing out and having Jackson and Matthew go together. Since Jackson had not been living in his house, it had been pretty easy for Alfred to pull off, too. Matthew would be lying if he thought Jackson was not just going to go home when he had showed up instead of Alfred, but he had not. He instead said it was a shame to waste tickets, especially if they were a present from his brother. At the concert Matthew learned that Jackson had some talent in music himself, and could play the guitar among other things. Matthew had then asked to hear him play, which flattered Jackson quite a bit if the blush was anything to go by. That was the first step in many that made Jackson accept Matthew's presence, but one thing was certain, he never once ignored it. Matthew had long accepted that he would never be as close to Jackson as Alfred was, but he was more than happy just to have the teen getting comfortable around him. In short, he cared a lot about both of his brothers.

"No, no. Neither of them are hurt, but—you will just have to see it for yourself."

That worried the Canadian even more as he followed at Arthur's heels. Did this have to do with the meeting today? With Russia, and the phone calls? All he knew is that they were heading to Alfred's house in the dead of night after Arthur had called him sounding… Incoherent. Matthew had thought he may have just been drunk, but he was plenty sober upon inspection. There was no smell of booze and he was functioning basically normal. Something was just, off, and he had no clue what. Maybe that was what was waiting for them at Alfred's house. Matthew was really hoping he had not murdered Alfred. Or Jackson. Or both. He and Francis especially had their suspicions for years after the revolution as to if he was capable of it or not. Strangely enough, unlike Francis, Matthew thought he was. One would normally think it would have been the other way around, but Matthew thought Francis was blinded by all the years he had known Arthur. He, on the other hand, was there after Alfred had left for both wars of American independence. He saw how Arthur could get, whether the man knew it or not. There was no question in Matthew's mind that Arthur could murder his brother, and do it without realizing it, which left only one question: could he really do the same to Jackson, as innocent as he was?

"Matthew."

"Yes!"

"We're here. Are you quite alright, lad? You seem a little pale."

The Canadian chuckled humorlessly, realizing they were indeed at Alfred's front door of his Virginian residence, "Never better, eh?"

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, but dismissed it before turning to knock on the door. He would have much preferred to let himself in, but since that key was gone he did not have much of an option. He would have been willing to let Alfred sleep until a reasonable time in the morning before he woke him if he could have just gotten in. Oh well, he supposed the boy deserved the disturbance in the middle of the night for the trouble anyway. Admittedly, after his conversations with bother Russia and Nikkita, he had softened a bit on the subject. Again, he felt betrayed, but he knew that the Russian liked to cause trouble and it was probably in his best interest to keep him weak so he could be manipulated. So, even if he was hurt, he had to give the American a chance to speak for himself. Plus, Matthew needed to hear himself. What on earth was taking Alfred so long? Did he have to start kicking the door in to get a response?

"Do not do that, Comrade. Everyone is asleep, da?"

A shiver traveled up and down Arthur's spine at the sound of the voice. His eyes soon confirmed that his ears were, indeed, not lying. He was starting to feel sick.

"R-Russia? What are you doing here!?" Matthew interrogated, "You did not climb in through Alfred's bedroom window again, did you? You have already got shot, twice, doing that!"

"Today makes three times."

Matthew opened his mouth to say something, but wisely closed it instead. It is not like he was going to listen anyway.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Fredka said I could spend the night since it was so late already. Something about me not leaving if he wanted anyway, so he might as well not even get out of bed."

Matthew sighed at his brother's complacence, though he supposed it was a habit as old as the Civil War seeing as Russia had been visiting like this since. He doubted he, anyone even, could change it. While all of this was going on, Arthur had gone stock still. The Brit could not make himself speak, not after everything. The last person he wanted to see was Russia right now, especially since he did not get here to renegotiate the treaty like he was supposed to. According to everything he had learned, that meant the Russia was no longer allowed to see Nikkita, which could also mess with his visits in general, and this was enforceable by both his and Alfred's governments. Did he mention that there was still the issue of the 'substantial' fine? All in all, the nation had plenty to be pissed about, and all the blame could be pinned on Arthur. Russia was definitely the last person the Brit wanted to see.

"Russia, will you please get out of the way, eh? Arthur and I need to see Alfred." the Canadian insisted, but Russia did not move from the doorway.

No, Russia's attention just moved to the silent party, "Fredka is asleep. It would be ungentlemanly to wake him, right England?"

Something about the way Russia said that put Matthew on edge. Sure, Russia threatened people all the time and it was scary, but he could have sworn there was a little more ammo to this one. The Russian had said once that he had a grudge against England even if he had never said specifically what, but was this new bite really from something so old? Also, Arthur had been unusually quiet. Maybe it was not so weird that Russia was here. In fact, he could very well be a key piece of this puzzle.

"We still need to see him." Matthew persisted.

He was getting even more nervous as he thought about it. If Russia was so crucial to the puzzle it certainly was not a good thing that he was in Alfred's house. And why was Arthur not saying anything!? Was Alfred really dead? Had either Arthur or Russia killed him and they were discovered by the other? Russia would blackmail Arthur if he caught the Brit and Arthur would be intimidated by Russia if said Russian had been caught, in the scenarios of discovery. Where on earth did that mean the Canadian fit into this, the first murdered example of a dead man telling no tales? Not if he could help it.

"Just let them in!"

The voice shocked all three standing in the doorway and caused Russia to peek into the house.

"Fredka—"

"Just do it, Iv. You all are so freaking loud anyway that everybody is up."

Matthew blinked at the harshness of Alfred's voice. If he was being snappy there was a little more than just the usual sleep deprivation. He normally held his tongue pretty well unless someone was asking him to go ahead and vent. One look at the man once he was inside confirmed Matthew's suspicions. He was not a happy American.

Said American sighed, "You guys want anything, because none of you are going to see a lick of the usual Alfred until I have had at least three cups of coffee, and Jackie is not coming down at this hour unless he is armed."

When no one said anything he gestured to his living room and departed for the kitchen, not even sticking around long enough to make sure Russia let them in. Of course, the Russian did, but really, how would Alfred know? The three then took various seats in the living room, making an uncompleted square of sorts to be as far away from each other as possible and still leave room for the borderline dangerous American to do the same. Really, what had Alfred gotten himself into to cause all of this?