Shining Through [2.3]
anonymous
August 4 2009, 00:06:40 UTC
Gah, anon just realized she is made of FAIL. I originally wanted Australia’s name to be Steve, then decided to change it to Asher. I missed one Steve. I’m sorry for that. His name is actually Asher.
Also: “Seppo” here refers to the Australian slang for an American, as septic tank rhymes with “Yank”. While it can be derogative, it is not meant to be offensive in this context. ___
Asher arrived around noon, though Matthew had been standing there longer than that.
Toris watched from the window as the taxi pulled up to Canada’s house and slowed to a stop. He saw the door open; a leg emerged, and then the rest of Asher followed, his green eyes bright and solid. Toris did not know Asher well, but he’d heard that he had Arthur’s infamous eyebrows, had even seen it in pictures - so he blinked when Asher walked closer, thinking they looked normal enough.
Unless he shaved them for…oh.
Toris watched as Matthew held out his arms to embrace Asher. The hat fell from his head, revealing blond hair and green eyes, and for a moment Toris saw Alfred all over again. But…no. Alfred’s smile and energy had been childlike and innocent; Asher’s energy was wild and raw, the kind of smile that could go from cheerful to cruel in the blink of an eye.
“…ah….”
Toris tore his eyes from the window and rushed to Alfred’s side, picking his hand up and lacing their fingers together. “You’re all right, Alfred. I’m right here.”
“Ah…!”
Toris watched that brow furrow as Alfred’s breathing picked up, as he started to shift on the bed. “Shh,” Toris coaxed, reaching up to soothe a hand through Alfred’s hair. “It’s all -”
“STOP!”
Alfred’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, panting, blue eyes whirling around the room until he caught sight of Toris. “No,” he whispered, leaning away and trying to reclaim his hand. “Please….”
“Alfred -”
“Please don’t….”
“It’s me.” Toris took both of Alfred’s shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. “Alfred, it’s me, Toris. Lithuania.”
Here, the fear in Alfred’s eyes seemed to clear a bit, enough for Alfred himself to seep back into those blue eyes. “Tor…Toris,” he repeated to himself, blinking.
“Yes, Alfred. It’s just me.”
Instead of relief, Toris saw the panic coming back into his eyes. He watched Alfred shy away from his touch and curl into a ball, his arms around his knees.
“No more,” he whimpered, and Toris felt his own heart break. “Please, no more. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Alfred,” Toris whispers, and runs his fingers through gold hair. “Oh, Alfred, no, it’s all right -”
“Al…?”
Alfred and Toris froze and looked towards the doorway. Asher stood there, his hand on the doorknob, mouth open a little as he stared at his brother with something like shock and sadness.
Asher’s presence somehow broke the spell on Alfred’s mind; thank God, Toris thought, as Alfred seeped back into himself and overrode the poison in his system.
“…Ash,” Alfred said, and laughed, a little broken, a little fragile. He bowed his head to his knees. “S…sorry that you have to see your big brother like this. I’m not really a hero now, am I?”
“Ah, fuck,” Asher said, and crossed the room in three quick strides to take Alfred into his arms. “Al…” he whispered, and Toris saw those sad green eyes grow sadder, “what ‘ave they done?”
Alfred struggled, weak and half-hearted. “I’m dirty, Ash,” he protested. “I’m filthy, please, don’t touch me -”
Asher let go, but he held Alfred’s tearing eyes with his own.
“Ya daft Seppo,” Asher said, “yer not filthy. I mean, they gave ya a bath ‘n all, right?” He tried to chuckle at his own lame joke, tapering off when Alfred didn’t join in. “C’mon, Al, please,” he said, speaking in earnest now, “smile, just a li’l?”
Alfred ducked his head, and after a moment his shoulders started to hitch. Toris felt his spirits lift; if Alfred could laugh, then surely -
It wasn’t until the first sob that they both realized Alfred was crying again.
“I - I t-t-trusted them,” Alfred whispers, and his body shakes, threatens to come apart at the joints.
“Jus’ relax, Al,” Asher murmurs, running a hand up and down Alfred’s arm. “I’m righ’ ‘ere, if y’ need me.”
Also: “Seppo” here refers to the Australian slang for an American, as septic tank rhymes with “Yank”. While it can be derogative, it is not meant to be offensive in this context.
___
Asher arrived around noon, though Matthew had been standing there longer than that.
Toris watched from the window as the taxi pulled up to Canada’s house and slowed to a stop. He saw the door open; a leg emerged, and then the rest of Asher followed, his green eyes bright and solid. Toris did not know Asher well, but he’d heard that he had Arthur’s infamous eyebrows, had even seen it in pictures - so he blinked when Asher walked closer, thinking they looked normal enough.
Unless he shaved them for…oh.
Toris watched as Matthew held out his arms to embrace Asher. The hat fell from his head, revealing blond hair and green eyes, and for a moment Toris saw Alfred all over again. But…no. Alfred’s smile and energy had been childlike and innocent; Asher’s energy was wild and raw, the kind of smile that could go from cheerful to cruel in the blink of an eye.
“…ah….”
Toris tore his eyes from the window and rushed to Alfred’s side, picking his hand up and lacing their fingers together. “You’re all right, Alfred. I’m right here.”
“Ah…!”
Toris watched that brow furrow as Alfred’s breathing picked up, as he started to shift on the bed. “Shh,” Toris coaxed, reaching up to soothe a hand through Alfred’s hair. “It’s all -”
“STOP!”
Alfred’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, panting, blue eyes whirling around the room until he caught sight of Toris. “No,” he whispered, leaning away and trying to reclaim his hand. “Please….”
“Alfred -”
“Please don’t….”
“It’s me.” Toris took both of Alfred’s shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. “Alfred, it’s me, Toris. Lithuania.”
Here, the fear in Alfred’s eyes seemed to clear a bit, enough for Alfred himself to seep back into those blue eyes. “Tor…Toris,” he repeated to himself, blinking.
“Yes, Alfred. It’s just me.”
Instead of relief, Toris saw the panic coming back into his eyes. He watched Alfred shy away from his touch and curl into a ball, his arms around his knees.
“No more,” he whimpered, and Toris felt his own heart break. “Please, no more. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Alfred,” Toris whispers, and runs his fingers through gold hair. “Oh, Alfred, no, it’s all right -”
“Al…?”
Alfred and Toris froze and looked towards the doorway. Asher stood there, his hand on the doorknob, mouth open a little as he stared at his brother with something like shock and sadness.
Asher’s presence somehow broke the spell on Alfred’s mind; thank God, Toris thought, as Alfred seeped back into himself and overrode the poison in his system.
“…Ash,” Alfred said, and laughed, a little broken, a little fragile. He bowed his head to his knees. “S…sorry that you have to see your big brother like this. I’m not really a hero now, am I?”
“Ah, fuck,” Asher said, and crossed the room in three quick strides to take Alfred into his arms. “Al…” he whispered, and Toris saw those sad green eyes grow sadder, “what ‘ave they done?”
Alfred struggled, weak and half-hearted. “I’m dirty, Ash,” he protested. “I’m filthy, please, don’t touch me -”
Asher let go, but he held Alfred’s tearing eyes with his own.
“Ya daft Seppo,” Asher said, “yer not filthy. I mean, they gave ya a bath ‘n all, right?” He tried to chuckle at his own lame joke, tapering off when Alfred didn’t join in. “C’mon, Al, please,” he said, speaking in earnest now, “smile, just a li’l?”
Alfred ducked his head, and after a moment his shoulders started to hitch. Toris felt his spirits lift; if Alfred could laugh, then surely -
It wasn’t until the first sob that they both realized Alfred was crying again.
“I - I t-t-trusted them,” Alfred whispers, and his body shakes, threatens to come apart at the joints.
“Jus’ relax, Al,” Asher murmurs, running a hand up and down Alfred’s arm. “I’m righ’ ‘ere, if y’ need me.”
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