/ I'm posting this when it's already Sunday noon in my place but it's still Saturday evening in America, so... I'm not yet late? :P /

III

Alfred

Los Angeles, USA. March 22, 8:09 am

Alfred was probably being an impertinent brat, as Arthur would say, for being late at a meeting that he was hosting, but really, he could care less. Truth be told, he would have preferred to skip the entire thing altogether, but his boss might find out and he was going to get chewed.

Give him a furious Ludwig anytime, but he didn't want an angry president, thank you very much.

Still, even if he did plan to be a little late just so he can make a flashy entrance, it seemed the world didn't want him to reach his destination within the next hour. The traffic wasn't moving at all and every other car on the street was honking like there's no tomorrow.

He opened his window and signaled the car next to him to do the same. "What do you make of this?"

The other driver scoffed. "This is LA. It's not uncommon to be stuck in traffic, but this is insane. It's been half an hour and we haven't moved an inch."

"You reckon there was an accident up there?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. I'm wondering what's taking things so long to clear, though."

Just as he said that, the cars in front slowly started moving. Still not fast enough, but at least the traffic was flowing again. Alfred glanced at his watch. 8:14. With the pace everything was going, he was going to reach the meeting place in another two hours.

Just imagining Ludwig's face going red in rage makes getting stuck in traffic almost like a blessing.

He was curious about the accident though. Granted, he wasn't really sure if there was even one, but like the other driver earlier had said, it wouldn't be surprising if it was the reason why the traffic wasn't moving.

It was fifteen minutes later that he arrived at the scene of the accident. A large truck had smashed into a wall. It practically looked like scrap metal at that point. He didn't envy the driver.

The traffic was moving very slowly because only one lane was currently being used. From his lane, Alfred had a perfect view of the goings on within the area cordoned off by yellow police tape. A young girl was being interviewed by the media, her knees and elbows scraped as if she skidded on asphalt. He heaved a sigh of relief. At least she avoided the truck in time.

Alfred opened his window to try to hear what was being said, but he could only catch a few words.

"...playing...suddenly...bright lights...pushed me out of the way..."

So somebody had saved her. Faith in humanity restored.

"...happened...him?"

"...got hit...wham! It was so fast...flew...crushed...truck and the wall..."

Oh. The guy who saved her was hit instead. Alfred wasn't quite sure if he should still be relieved or not. If the guy hadn't pushed her, he wouldn't have died but she would have. A life for a life? Couldn't there have been a scenario where both of them survives? Perhaps it's idealistic, but surely... Surely there was a chance that both of them could be saved?

"We have identified the victim as Arthur Kirkland..."

Anything said after that didn't register in Alfred's mind. Arthur? The guy who saved the little girl just then was Arthur? The guy who got hit by the truck and "flew" was Arthur?

Alfred laughed. Here's the scenario that he wanted, the scenario where both lives are saved. Arthur was a nation after all. He wouldn't die from just that.

Then what was that feeling pooling in his stomach? Why was he gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckled were white? Why was he shaking? Why did he feel so afraid, so terrified?

Sirens blared from behind him and Alfred snapped from his panicked trance. The ambulance. Why did the ambulance arrive later than the media?

The paramedics were soon rushing towards the scene, carefully extracting a battered and bloodied body from where it was crushed between the truck and the wall and laying it down on a gurney. They wheeled the gurney towards the ambulance slowly but urgently, and it was right before they put a respirator on the man's face that Alfred caught a glimpse of the victim.

There was no mistaking those huge eyebrows. But somehow, Alfred couldn't find it in himself to laugh at them.

"Arthur..." He found himself walking towards the ambulance with unsteady legs. When did he get out of the car?

"Arthur..." He could hear voices yelling at him in the background, but he ignored them. They didn't matter. Arthur mattered. It mattered that the brother that he looked up to, the one he tried - and kept trying - to surpass looked so weak, so vulnerable. So frail.

"Arthur!" He broke into a run, bowling over anybody who tried to stop him from getting to his destination. He had to get there. He had to make sure that Arthur was fine. He had to make sure that Arthur was alive.

"Sir! Calm down, sir. Please!"

Why wasn't he getting closer? Arthur was right there...

"I have to... Arthur... You can't die..." Alfred struggled against the people who were trying to hold him in place. Why weren't they letting him go to Arthur?

"Are you related to the Mr. Kirkland?"

Alfred swallowed and chose his words carefully. "He took care of me when I was younger."

The paramedic who asked scrunched his eyebrows. "I'm afraid that unless you are an immediate family member, I cannot let you ride on the ambulance with us."

"I..." There wasn't really a debate on whether he should say it or not. He was willing to throw away anything if that meant he can stay by Arthur's side. Wasn't that why he became independent in the first place? "I'm his little brother."

~.;*;.~

Los Angeles, USA. March 22, 9:38 am

"Matthew..."

"Alfred? Where are you? Have you seen the news?"

"No, I haven't. But listen. Arthur..."

"I know. It was on television."

"I see."

"How did you know?"

"I was there when they extracted him from..."

A sharp intake of breath came from the other end of the line. "What... How was he?"

Alfred shook his head even though Matthew couldn't have seen it. "Terrible. He was covered in blood. Matt, the Arthur that I saw... It wasn't the Arthur that I remember." A choked sob came from his throat and he realized that he was crying.

"He looked so frail, Matt! Like he didn't own the back that I kept seeing in my dreams, like he didn't stand tall and proud all the time. I... I don't understand..."

"What are you trying to understand, Alfred?"

"I don't understand why I thought that looking like that was normal! Why did I think that it's perfectly natural for Arthur to look like that? Arthur is strong, Matt. It shouldn't be natural!"

"Alfred..."

"I've been trying all this time to surpass him, to be stronger than him. And every time I felt that I could finally touch his back, he gets even father away. He's strong, Matt. He didn't need anybody to protect him, you know? He can handle everything. But seeing him earlier, all battered and bloodied, I... I thought, 'This is the person who I always looked up to. Why did he look so weak?'

"You know, I realized... Maybe he had always looked like that. Maybe... Maybe his appearance never really changed. Strong or weak, maybe it's all the same. Maybe strength doesn't have a 'look'. Do you think Arthur looked strong simply because I saw him that way? Do you think I thought Arthur looked strong simply because I thought he didn't need my help?

"I guess that's actually why I wanted to be stronger. I wanted Arthur to need my help. I wanted to be someone he could depend on. Looking back, didn't he need my help so many times before? Didn't he want to depend on me before? Wasn't it just me, who selfishly thought that he didn't need me, that he was too strong to need help, who threw those opportunities away?

"Matthew, right now, I think Arthur needs my help. No, I know he needs my help. And I want to be here to hold his hand. I want to be here when he wakes up."

He didn't see it, but Alfred knew that his twin brother was smiling.

"We'll be with you."

/ Please review. :) /