Summer Camp Day 3: I see the light
Title: Twisted (part 1)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/SemiRomance/AU/Seriously
Word Count: 3523
Rating/Warnings: T (Arthur has a potty mouth, and other issues that will come up in part 2.)
Summary:
Alfred couldn't remember ever being sick, though Mother reminded him that he was, and needed to stay indoors at all cost. Arthur's middle name was trouble-- but this time he just might get caught.
Alfred couldn't remember a time when he'd been sick, and though Mother invariably reminded him that he was such a sickly baby who needed to stay indoors at all cost, he couldn't help want to spend a day walking through the city far below his window.
He never lacked for food, or clothing or materials for his education. Just nothing that would encourage him to leave the small apartment near the top of a building in the middle of a city that he couldn't name. Alfred spent his days doing the small tasks that Mother set for him- crazy little things, mostly-- (who would want to make a clockwork soldier of that size anyway?) He preferred when she brought the airplanes, and he could dream of flying away from his tower in one of them. But beyond that, he saw no one, and no one saw him.
Except, of course, for Tony.
Somehow the gray squirrel had managed to climb up the vines and through the vents to entertain Alfred when Mother was off on one of her trips. (Months, years, she always managed to make it home before food ran out, or somehow magicked it into the refrigerator. Tony was always up to running around the apartment, or nipping Alfred when he started to drift off with the soldering iron still on, or when he forgot to turn off the water in the bathtub when an idea struck him.
Everything was set up for him to study physics or chemistry, or plans for whatever machine that Mother asked him to look at, or that he had a whim to ask. Just no contact with anyone (bar Tony, but squirrel chatter hardly counted as a real conversation) except Mother. When she was there.
Alfred glanced out of his favorite window, towards the large grassy area that Tony had called a 'park'. It was his favorite window for many reasons, one of which was that one day a year (he had been keeping track, and it had been every year) just after sundown a group of lights would bob their way into the middle, linger there for a few hours, then slowly extinguish themselves. There was no true shape to the formation, and the number of lights varied from year to year.
The last two years it had been smaller, and smaller, and Alfred was afraid that-- well. He thought that it might vanish altogether. The thought of the lights vanishing didn't scare him so much as the idea that he'd never get the chance to see what exactly they were.
He had a dream.
Alfred wanted to see the lights up close, find out what they were-- keep them from fading away and continuing to mark that one dark night of the year.
Tony chittered at him from across the room, beady black eyes giving him a contemplating glare.
“Yes, Mother is coming home today, Tony. I already cleaned up our mess, and hid your bed. Think she's staying for a couple of days-- hopefully it won't rain, but if it does, I made this for you!” Alfred lifted a tiny umbrella, just the right size to keep a squirrel dry from nosetip to tail. “It's really easy to use, and light, so--”
The clicking of a lock made Tony scramble for cover, and Alfred poked the umbrella after him.
“Mother!”
The woman who sailed through the door was perfect (just like the plastic life that she'd set up, the bubble in which Alfred was contained.) Dark blond hair barely ruffled as she sailed in, ignoring Alfred for a moment in favor of the locked cabinet that she never allowed him into. (She always did this when she came in-- whatever potion she was drinking from there put more of a real smile on her face than Alfred would see at any other time.) Routine followed, Mother turned to beam at Alfred.
“Hello, darling.” Mother embraced him swiftly, touching his cheek, and ruffling his hair, “And has my favorite little boy been hard at work while Mother was away?”
“Mother, I'm not little anymore-- I'm seventeen.” he'd asked once, and wondered why the answer always seemed strange-- but Mother wouldn't lie to him. She'd promised... “I finished all my work, and drew that schematic that you wanted. Just...”
“Wonderful, darling!” The caress turned into a quick pinch. “I'll have more for you in the next few days. And a treat! I'm going to--”
“Take me outside? To see the lights tomorrow?” Alfred said with a glimmer of hope. Maybe this time he was strong enough. Maybe this time she would see that he was well.
“Oh no my darling!” Mother looked horrified, “You're such a delicate baby, and always have been. If you went outside-- goodness, you'd be coughing up a lung in a moment. And you'd be so miserable out there. There are germs everywhere--”
Alfred hid his sigh, and tried to tune out some of the lecture. No, he wasn't getting to go outside. Not even a toe--
“No, my darling boy, I brought you a new book on airplanes that you might just enjoy-- you're not going to make me worry about you? You'd be dead in a few minutes out there.”
“No Mother,” Alfred noticed the book under her arm only now. “I'm happy to get another book. Thank you.”
“That's more like it.” Mother went to her special cabinet again. “Now, Alfred, be a good boy, and go read your book. Mother has had a difficult day, and she needs some time to herself.”
Obediently, Alfred took his new book, and went back into his bedroom-- to his special window where he could watch that green patch, and imagine those lights that would return tomorrow night.
Through the door, the sounds of Mother talking to herself much too loudly reached him. He tuned it out until he thought he heard his own name.
“Tony?”
The squirrel poked his head out of a hole near the ceiling (cleverly hidden by the crown molding.)
“Sorry buddy. I just-- she's talking to herself about me again. Was I really that bad today?”
Another chitter that to most people would sound like gibberish.
“But I asked her again, and worried her-- but I feel perfectly well. I can walk around the apartment for an hour, and lift any of the furniture. “
The sound of a door slamming came to Alfred, and he warily poked his head out into the living room. Mother was gone-- for now.
* * *
Arthur Kirkland had a problem.
And that problem now came in the shape of his hair. Not that it was coming to life to trip him or anything. Not that it was too long-- but that it was distinctive in style (Spiked in several different directions) and colour (bleached out with red stripes.)
It all would come down to his hair, now wouldn't it? Not that his eyebrows weren't a distinguishing feature, but with his hair like this, Arthur called attention away from his face, and those monsterous-- Fuck but these stairs were endless-- and his height wasn't that impressive, and an average build-- and the piercings were common to a lot of people in his profession, but the hair gave him away every bloody time.
“How high is this fucking tower?” he wheezed, as he rounded another corner, only to be confronted by yet another flight. “And why the fuck did I think that was a good idea?”
Arthur heard footsteps, and immediately flattened himself into the shadows around the landing door, and watched as a well-heeled woman practically flew down the stairs by him. Without notice, he hoped.
Arthur wondered, for a moment, about dropping the thing down the stairwell. If it would smash something, or maybe hit that woman-- but refrained. It would have his fingerprints on it, and he really didn't need any more trouble than what he'd bought himself by swiping it.
One more flight, and he'd go and see if there was anywhere to stash the piece of crap, wipe it clean, and maybe find a way out of this jam. Arthur might need the money, but the pawnshop wouldn't take hot goods.
To his surprise, this was the last flight, and the door, unlike many on this staircase, was open. Arthur had regained his luck, it seemed. The third door he tried was open. (Third time's the charm, innit?)
The flat was slightly messy, and smelled of chemicals and burnt food.
A cabinet within sight of the door-- ajar, keys still in the lock, and showing several bottles of glorious alcohol that Arthur hadn't ever tasted-- expensive shit, it was.
He took a longing look, before uncorking one of the bottles and taking a sip.
Glorious.
And there was a beady-eyed gray squirrel staring at him from atop the cabinet.
“What the fuck?” said Arthur, before something landed a solid blow to his head, knocking him out.
* * *
“That was a bad word he said, wasn't it, Tony?” Alfred nervously stepped back from the body, holding the heavy iron clamp at the ready. “He's not a good person, he came in while Mother was gone and took her potion.”
More chittering, and the squirrel leaped from the cabinet and landed on the unconscious body, jumping up and down excitedly. At least, Alfred hoped he was just unconscious. He didn't really want to kill anyone.
“Ok, so what should I do now?” Alfred tried to think. “Wait for Mother, and see if she...”
The man stirred, and coughed.
“Oh crap, is he sick? Am I going to get sick now? Mother will be so angry... His hair is colored funny- maybe that's a symptom--”
“Oh bloody fuck.” Alfred considered using that clamp again as the stranger staggered to his feet. “What the fuck was that f--”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I-- you look familiar.” Green eyes were narrowed at him. “Who are you?”
“We're asking the questions, not you!”
“We?” The tone sounded like Mother when she was doubting some of his calculations. “There's you and me. Unless I've found myself a nutter.”
“Nutter?” Alfred frowned. “Me and Tony are asking the questions.”
“Tony?” The squirrel took that moment to bite the stranger's ear between the metal posts that were stuck … through... how could anyone do that to themselves? Maybe it was another symptom-- the man gave a screech.
“Tony, calm down. How is he gonna answer if he's screaming?”
“Oh fuck. It's that squirrel. What the fuck is going on? Why the hell did my luck decide to take a powder on me right now?” The man was getting red in the face. Angry maybe. “I stole something, and I was looking for a place to hide it, and disguise myself so I can go fucking find another way to buy fags.”
“.... buy... what?” Alfred was absolutely baffled.
“Damn yanks. Cigarettes.”
“What?”
“Erm?” The man suddenly stopped, and Tony chittered at Alfred.
“Oh-- they're not good for you anyway.” Alfred frowned, “Thanks Tony.”
“... You can understand squirrel, but don't know what a cigarette is. Right. This is a loony bin. Let me leave this sack with you, and you can give it to the coppers, and I'll just be...” He yelped as Tony bit him again. “Fucking hell!”
“Stop saying bad words. What's a copper anyway? Mother would know, right?”
“Copper... cop... police?”
“Um...” Alfred frowned. He'd seen that mentioned somewhere in his books, right? “I'll have to ask Mother how to get them, when she gets back.”
“Brilliant. I'm stuck in the home of a moron, and about to be arrested over a fucking statue--”
“I'm not a moron.” Alfred scowled, letting the clamp lower, “I've just been sick, and I haven't been outside. There are things there that I don't....”
“Never been outside?” Tony chittered disapprovingly at Alfred as the other man. Boy. Took a step towards him. He was shorter than Alfred. “Your mother keeps you penned up in this hole because you're sick? Other than that pasty complexion, I'd say you look plenty healthy--”
“I was a sickly baby, and vulnerable to all kinds of horrible diseases--” Alfred recited the lines that Mother had given to him when he had first asked to go outside. “She'll be back soon.”
“And you're living in this dump? If you were really that ill, you would be in hospital, not in a place like this. Have you even seen a doctor?”
“I...” Alfred hesitated. He didn't remember when he came here, just being here. There had to be a doctor in that sequence somewhere, right? “It doesn't matter. I--”
“What's the matter, boy-o? Afraid of your mother?”
“No-- but you should be! You stole something.”
“An' I'd give it back in a heartbeat. It wasn't worth opening the bloody safe for. Just a piece of crap child's toy.”
“Oh?” Alfred felt a bit indignant. Toys weren't meant to be stolen and sold for some guy with weird hair to buy cigarettes with.
“Yeah. Just a little bunny toy bank. Looks like it works, but there's not a penny in it.”
“Can I...” Alfred felt a bit odd as the little clockwork bank was withdrawn from the sack, and presented to him. It looked like the nose would work, and the ears were meant to twitch when a coin was inserted...
“'Ere. You can have it, I'm leaving.” Tony started to move to take a chomp out of the ear again, but the sound of the doorknob rattling made them all freeze for a moment.
Alfred recovered first, and bodily swooped the thief and his loot into the nearest closet as Mother opened the door
“Oh darling, I'm sorry, I had a message that I needed to attend to-- you'll forgive me, won't you?” Mother swooped into the room, and pressed her lips against Alfred's head, as he leaned against the closet door. “I'm going to have to leave you for a few days tomorrow morning. You'll be all right, won't you? Of course you will. You feel a bit warm-- I'll leave you some medicine, and you should rest. No staring out the window all day and night now.”
“I'm fine, Mother.” Alfred said softly, hoping his pounding heart wouldn't betray this secret. For some reason... he didn't want to share this stranger and his stolen goods with Mother. “I won't worry you, and there's no need to leave medicine. I'll be fine.”
“Mother knows best, Alfred, my sweet. Take your medicine tomorrow, and I will see you in a few days.” Another kiss was blown in his direction as Mother locked the doors carefully, bringing the key with her into her own room... and slamming the door.
Taking a moment to breathe, Alfred just leaned against the closet door. She hadn't caught him. Them.
“Let me out.” The soft muffled words were close to his ear, like the man was trying to whisper through a keyhole. “If she's gone, let me out.”
“I can't-- she's locked the door. I don't know--”
“Let me out of the closet, at least. Your squirrel is trying to bite my ankles.”
“Tony, cut it out.” Alfred cracked the door open, keeping his voice soft. “She'll be asleep in ten minutes. We can talk in my room after that.”
* * *
The boy was skinny, and pale, and squirmed far too much. He was on the 'pretty' side, Arthur had to admit, but he wasn't about to admit that.
Alfred squinted at Arthur as they waited. Five. Six.
“She won't wake up for a while-- “ The echo of a snore rattled the wall between bedrooms, Alfred spoke, still keeping his tone low. “Once she's left tomorrow we can try to figure out a way to sneak you out.”
“Why not tonight? You can let me out and lock back up after--”
“She's got the only key. I'm not allowed to go out, and sometimes I forget and try to sleepwalk out or something. She's just trying to keep me safe.” Alfred's tone was defensive.
“She's keeping you prisoner.” Arthur frowned. “When was the last time you left this apartment?”
Silence.
“When was the last time someone came to visit you, Alfred?” The boy had been far too naive for someone used to more company. “How long have you lived here?”
“Mother says I'm seventeen.” Alfred glanced towards the window in the corner of the bedroom. “I... counted eleven myself.”
“Alfred?” Arthur couldn't help it, there was loneliness in that voice. “Counted?”
“Eleven times I've seen the lights in the park down there.” Glancing through the same window, Arthur caught a glimpse of Oak Park. “Every year. Tomorrow night will be the twelfth. It's getting smaller. I did want to see it and find out what it was before it faded away entirely.”
“Lights in the park?” Arthur tried to remember what was going on in the park, and failed. He'd been too busy trying to get a little extra cash the easy way lately. The park was a bit close to his last (failed) attempt for comfort, but...“I've been there before, I just don't remember what's supposed to be going on in the future. Why don't you go?”
“Mother... is worried about me leaving the house. She's afraid I'll get sick again, even though I haven't... actually been sick for ages.” Alfred shrugged. “I do my drawings for her, and study-- but it's a bit...”
“Boring.” Arthur prompted when Alfred didn't say the word aloud. “You've asked to go.”
“Every year. And she always said no.”
“But she goes out all the time.” Arthur considered, just for a moment, trying to comfort this kindred soul, another lonely boy. Mother hadn't harmed Alfred, hadn't screamed or hit him maybe he was just luckier than Arthur. “And she doesn't sterilise anything, doesn't wash her hands before touching you... she's probably brought more viruses and germs into this place than that squirrel.”
The squirrel chittered angrily at Arthur. Who wondered, for a moment, if he was going mad, because he could tell that the creature was angry at him.
“That's true...” Alfred seemed to consider something, as the squirrel huffed, and climbed up the wall and into a hole in the molding. “Then... she's gone for a few days. She'll be gone tomorrow night.”
“So you can go somewhere.”
“Can you take me to the park?” Alfred asked, wide blue eyes looking for all the world like a begging puppy. “Please?”
“I can't go there- It's too close to my last...” Arthur's resolve wavered, as the eyes started to fill with tears. How the hell had he become so weak against this boy in such a short amount of time. “All right. You get me out of here, and I take you to the park and back. You keep the rabbit, and since there's no evidence, I don't go to jail.”
“Ok!” The tears were gone, and a brilliant smile was in their place, “I... like the rabbit. It's pretty cool-- did you see how the nose wiggles when you put coins in?”
“How did you--” Arthur frowned. “I didn't know that. I just thought it was a solid piece.”
“It's easy-- well. For me. I can see some of where the gears are and... It just looks like it should.”
For the first time, Arthur glanced around the room and really noticed things. The textbooks. The half-finished drawings that looked like schematics for aeroplanes. The models--
“You did all these?”
“Most of the models are old-- I've got new ones in the workroom.” Alfred smiled shyly. “Mother gets me all the materials to make my toys, and I fix her drawings for her. She keeps me safe, and I help her.”
“She keeps you isolated. Have you ever had a friend, other than Tony?”
“There's you, now. And I don't know your name yet.”
“Arthur.” Arthur was a bit unsettled. But then, Alfred hadn't met anyone else, from what it sounded like, he was starved for company. “All right then, Alfred, shall we sleep, then work on getting those locks picked tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure!” The enthusiasm returned, an overabundance of joy. “And tomorrow night, I can see those lights for myself!”
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/SemiRomance/AU/Seriously
Word Count: 3523
Rating/Warnings: T (Arthur has a potty mouth, and other issues that will come up in part 2.)
Summary:
Alfred couldn't remember ever being sick, though Mother reminded him that he was, and needed to stay indoors at all cost. Arthur's middle name was trouble-- but this time he just might get caught.
Alfred couldn't remember a time when he'd been sick, and though Mother invariably reminded him that he was such a sickly baby who needed to stay indoors at all cost, he couldn't help want to spend a day walking through the city far below his window.
He never lacked for food, or clothing or materials for his education. Just nothing that would encourage him to leave the small apartment near the top of a building in the middle of a city that he couldn't name. Alfred spent his days doing the small tasks that Mother set for him- crazy little things, mostly-- (who would want to make a clockwork soldier of that size anyway?) He preferred when she brought the airplanes, and he could dream of flying away from his tower in one of them. But beyond that, he saw no one, and no one saw him.
Except, of course, for Tony.
Somehow the gray squirrel had managed to climb up the vines and through the vents to entertain Alfred when Mother was off on one of her trips. (Months, years, she always managed to make it home before food ran out, or somehow magicked it into the refrigerator. Tony was always up to running around the apartment, or nipping Alfred when he started to drift off with the soldering iron still on, or when he forgot to turn off the water in the bathtub when an idea struck him.
Everything was set up for him to study physics or chemistry, or plans for whatever machine that Mother asked him to look at, or that he had a whim to ask. Just no contact with anyone (bar Tony, but squirrel chatter hardly counted as a real conversation) except Mother. When she was there.
Alfred glanced out of his favorite window, towards the large grassy area that Tony had called a 'park'. It was his favorite window for many reasons, one of which was that one day a year (he had been keeping track, and it had been every year) just after sundown a group of lights would bob their way into the middle, linger there for a few hours, then slowly extinguish themselves. There was no true shape to the formation, and the number of lights varied from year to year.
The last two years it had been smaller, and smaller, and Alfred was afraid that-- well. He thought that it might vanish altogether. The thought of the lights vanishing didn't scare him so much as the idea that he'd never get the chance to see what exactly they were.
He had a dream.
Alfred wanted to see the lights up close, find out what they were-- keep them from fading away and continuing to mark that one dark night of the year.
Tony chittered at him from across the room, beady black eyes giving him a contemplating glare.
“Yes, Mother is coming home today, Tony. I already cleaned up our mess, and hid your bed. Think she's staying for a couple of days-- hopefully it won't rain, but if it does, I made this for you!” Alfred lifted a tiny umbrella, just the right size to keep a squirrel dry from nosetip to tail. “It's really easy to use, and light, so--”
The clicking of a lock made Tony scramble for cover, and Alfred poked the umbrella after him.
“Mother!”
The woman who sailed through the door was perfect (just like the plastic life that she'd set up, the bubble in which Alfred was contained.) Dark blond hair barely ruffled as she sailed in, ignoring Alfred for a moment in favor of the locked cabinet that she never allowed him into. (She always did this when she came in-- whatever potion she was drinking from there put more of a real smile on her face than Alfred would see at any other time.) Routine followed, Mother turned to beam at Alfred.
“Hello, darling.” Mother embraced him swiftly, touching his cheek, and ruffling his hair, “And has my favorite little boy been hard at work while Mother was away?”
“Mother, I'm not little anymore-- I'm seventeen.” he'd asked once, and wondered why the answer always seemed strange-- but Mother wouldn't lie to him. She'd promised... “I finished all my work, and drew that schematic that you wanted. Just...”
“Wonderful, darling!” The caress turned into a quick pinch. “I'll have more for you in the next few days. And a treat! I'm going to--”
“Take me outside? To see the lights tomorrow?” Alfred said with a glimmer of hope. Maybe this time he was strong enough. Maybe this time she would see that he was well.
“Oh no my darling!” Mother looked horrified, “You're such a delicate baby, and always have been. If you went outside-- goodness, you'd be coughing up a lung in a moment. And you'd be so miserable out there. There are germs everywhere--”
Alfred hid his sigh, and tried to tune out some of the lecture. No, he wasn't getting to go outside. Not even a toe--
“No, my darling boy, I brought you a new book on airplanes that you might just enjoy-- you're not going to make me worry about you? You'd be dead in a few minutes out there.”
“No Mother,” Alfred noticed the book under her arm only now. “I'm happy to get another book. Thank you.”
“That's more like it.” Mother went to her special cabinet again. “Now, Alfred, be a good boy, and go read your book. Mother has had a difficult day, and she needs some time to herself.”
Obediently, Alfred took his new book, and went back into his bedroom-- to his special window where he could watch that green patch, and imagine those lights that would return tomorrow night.
Through the door, the sounds of Mother talking to herself much too loudly reached him. He tuned it out until he thought he heard his own name.
“Tony?”
The squirrel poked his head out of a hole near the ceiling (cleverly hidden by the crown molding.)
“Sorry buddy. I just-- she's talking to herself about me again. Was I really that bad today?”
Another chitter that to most people would sound like gibberish.
“But I asked her again, and worried her-- but I feel perfectly well. I can walk around the apartment for an hour, and lift any of the furniture. “
The sound of a door slamming came to Alfred, and he warily poked his head out into the living room. Mother was gone-- for now.
* * *
Arthur Kirkland had a problem.
And that problem now came in the shape of his hair. Not that it was coming to life to trip him or anything. Not that it was too long-- but that it was distinctive in style (Spiked in several different directions) and colour (bleached out with red stripes.)
It all would come down to his hair, now wouldn't it? Not that his eyebrows weren't a distinguishing feature, but with his hair like this, Arthur called attention away from his face, and those monsterous-- Fuck but these stairs were endless-- and his height wasn't that impressive, and an average build-- and the piercings were common to a lot of people in his profession, but the hair gave him away every bloody time.
“How high is this fucking tower?” he wheezed, as he rounded another corner, only to be confronted by yet another flight. “And why the fuck did I think that was a good idea?”
Arthur heard footsteps, and immediately flattened himself into the shadows around the landing door, and watched as a well-heeled woman practically flew down the stairs by him. Without notice, he hoped.
Arthur wondered, for a moment, about dropping the thing down the stairwell. If it would smash something, or maybe hit that woman-- but refrained. It would have his fingerprints on it, and he really didn't need any more trouble than what he'd bought himself by swiping it.
One more flight, and he'd go and see if there was anywhere to stash the piece of crap, wipe it clean, and maybe find a way out of this jam. Arthur might need the money, but the pawnshop wouldn't take hot goods.
To his surprise, this was the last flight, and the door, unlike many on this staircase, was open. Arthur had regained his luck, it seemed. The third door he tried was open. (Third time's the charm, innit?)
The flat was slightly messy, and smelled of chemicals and burnt food.
A cabinet within sight of the door-- ajar, keys still in the lock, and showing several bottles of glorious alcohol that Arthur hadn't ever tasted-- expensive shit, it was.
He took a longing look, before uncorking one of the bottles and taking a sip.
Glorious.
And there was a beady-eyed gray squirrel staring at him from atop the cabinet.
“What the fuck?” said Arthur, before something landed a solid blow to his head, knocking him out.
* * *
“That was a bad word he said, wasn't it, Tony?” Alfred nervously stepped back from the body, holding the heavy iron clamp at the ready. “He's not a good person, he came in while Mother was gone and took her potion.”
More chittering, and the squirrel leaped from the cabinet and landed on the unconscious body, jumping up and down excitedly. At least, Alfred hoped he was just unconscious. He didn't really want to kill anyone.
“Ok, so what should I do now?” Alfred tried to think. “Wait for Mother, and see if she...”
The man stirred, and coughed.
“Oh crap, is he sick? Am I going to get sick now? Mother will be so angry... His hair is colored funny- maybe that's a symptom--”
“Oh bloody fuck.” Alfred considered using that clamp again as the stranger staggered to his feet. “What the fuck was that f--”
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I-- you look familiar.” Green eyes were narrowed at him. “Who are you?”
“We're asking the questions, not you!”
“We?” The tone sounded like Mother when she was doubting some of his calculations. “There's you and me. Unless I've found myself a nutter.”
“Nutter?” Alfred frowned. “Me and Tony are asking the questions.”
“Tony?” The squirrel took that moment to bite the stranger's ear between the metal posts that were stuck … through... how could anyone do that to themselves? Maybe it was another symptom-- the man gave a screech.
“Tony, calm down. How is he gonna answer if he's screaming?”
“Oh fuck. It's that squirrel. What the fuck is going on? Why the hell did my luck decide to take a powder on me right now?” The man was getting red in the face. Angry maybe. “I stole something, and I was looking for a place to hide it, and disguise myself so I can go fucking find another way to buy fags.”
“.... buy... what?” Alfred was absolutely baffled.
“Damn yanks. Cigarettes.”
“What?”
“Erm?” The man suddenly stopped, and Tony chittered at Alfred.
“Oh-- they're not good for you anyway.” Alfred frowned, “Thanks Tony.”
“... You can understand squirrel, but don't know what a cigarette is. Right. This is a loony bin. Let me leave this sack with you, and you can give it to the coppers, and I'll just be...” He yelped as Tony bit him again. “Fucking hell!”
“Stop saying bad words. What's a copper anyway? Mother would know, right?”
“Copper... cop... police?”
“Um...” Alfred frowned. He'd seen that mentioned somewhere in his books, right? “I'll have to ask Mother how to get them, when she gets back.”
“Brilliant. I'm stuck in the home of a moron, and about to be arrested over a fucking statue--”
“I'm not a moron.” Alfred scowled, letting the clamp lower, “I've just been sick, and I haven't been outside. There are things there that I don't....”
“Never been outside?” Tony chittered disapprovingly at Alfred as the other man. Boy. Took a step towards him. He was shorter than Alfred. “Your mother keeps you penned up in this hole because you're sick? Other than that pasty complexion, I'd say you look plenty healthy--”
“I was a sickly baby, and vulnerable to all kinds of horrible diseases--” Alfred recited the lines that Mother had given to him when he had first asked to go outside. “She'll be back soon.”
“And you're living in this dump? If you were really that ill, you would be in hospital, not in a place like this. Have you even seen a doctor?”
“I...” Alfred hesitated. He didn't remember when he came here, just being here. There had to be a doctor in that sequence somewhere, right? “It doesn't matter. I--”
“What's the matter, boy-o? Afraid of your mother?”
“No-- but you should be! You stole something.”
“An' I'd give it back in a heartbeat. It wasn't worth opening the bloody safe for. Just a piece of crap child's toy.”
“Oh?” Alfred felt a bit indignant. Toys weren't meant to be stolen and sold for some guy with weird hair to buy cigarettes with.
“Yeah. Just a little bunny toy bank. Looks like it works, but there's not a penny in it.”
“Can I...” Alfred felt a bit odd as the little clockwork bank was withdrawn from the sack, and presented to him. It looked like the nose would work, and the ears were meant to twitch when a coin was inserted...
“'Ere. You can have it, I'm leaving.” Tony started to move to take a chomp out of the ear again, but the sound of the doorknob rattling made them all freeze for a moment.
Alfred recovered first, and bodily swooped the thief and his loot into the nearest closet as Mother opened the door
“Oh darling, I'm sorry, I had a message that I needed to attend to-- you'll forgive me, won't you?” Mother swooped into the room, and pressed her lips against Alfred's head, as he leaned against the closet door. “I'm going to have to leave you for a few days tomorrow morning. You'll be all right, won't you? Of course you will. You feel a bit warm-- I'll leave you some medicine, and you should rest. No staring out the window all day and night now.”
“I'm fine, Mother.” Alfred said softly, hoping his pounding heart wouldn't betray this secret. For some reason... he didn't want to share this stranger and his stolen goods with Mother. “I won't worry you, and there's no need to leave medicine. I'll be fine.”
“Mother knows best, Alfred, my sweet. Take your medicine tomorrow, and I will see you in a few days.” Another kiss was blown in his direction as Mother locked the doors carefully, bringing the key with her into her own room... and slamming the door.
Taking a moment to breathe, Alfred just leaned against the closet door. She hadn't caught him. Them.
“Let me out.” The soft muffled words were close to his ear, like the man was trying to whisper through a keyhole. “If she's gone, let me out.”
“I can't-- she's locked the door. I don't know--”
“Let me out of the closet, at least. Your squirrel is trying to bite my ankles.”
“Tony, cut it out.” Alfred cracked the door open, keeping his voice soft. “She'll be asleep in ten minutes. We can talk in my room after that.”
* * *
The boy was skinny, and pale, and squirmed far too much. He was on the 'pretty' side, Arthur had to admit, but he wasn't about to admit that.
Alfred squinted at Arthur as they waited. Five. Six.
“She won't wake up for a while-- “ The echo of a snore rattled the wall between bedrooms, Alfred spoke, still keeping his tone low. “Once she's left tomorrow we can try to figure out a way to sneak you out.”
“Why not tonight? You can let me out and lock back up after--”
“She's got the only key. I'm not allowed to go out, and sometimes I forget and try to sleepwalk out or something. She's just trying to keep me safe.” Alfred's tone was defensive.
“She's keeping you prisoner.” Arthur frowned. “When was the last time you left this apartment?”
Silence.
“When was the last time someone came to visit you, Alfred?” The boy had been far too naive for someone used to more company. “How long have you lived here?”
“Mother says I'm seventeen.” Alfred glanced towards the window in the corner of the bedroom. “I... counted eleven myself.”
“Alfred?” Arthur couldn't help it, there was loneliness in that voice. “Counted?”
“Eleven times I've seen the lights in the park down there.” Glancing through the same window, Arthur caught a glimpse of Oak Park. “Every year. Tomorrow night will be the twelfth. It's getting smaller. I did want to see it and find out what it was before it faded away entirely.”
“Lights in the park?” Arthur tried to remember what was going on in the park, and failed. He'd been too busy trying to get a little extra cash the easy way lately. The park was a bit close to his last (failed) attempt for comfort, but...“I've been there before, I just don't remember what's supposed to be going on in the future. Why don't you go?”
“Mother... is worried about me leaving the house. She's afraid I'll get sick again, even though I haven't... actually been sick for ages.” Alfred shrugged. “I do my drawings for her, and study-- but it's a bit...”
“Boring.” Arthur prompted when Alfred didn't say the word aloud. “You've asked to go.”
“Every year. And she always said no.”
“But she goes out all the time.” Arthur considered, just for a moment, trying to comfort this kindred soul, another lonely boy. Mother hadn't harmed Alfred, hadn't screamed or hit him maybe he was just luckier than Arthur. “And she doesn't sterilise anything, doesn't wash her hands before touching you... she's probably brought more viruses and germs into this place than that squirrel.”
The squirrel chittered angrily at Arthur. Who wondered, for a moment, if he was going mad, because he could tell that the creature was angry at him.
“That's true...” Alfred seemed to consider something, as the squirrel huffed, and climbed up the wall and into a hole in the molding. “Then... she's gone for a few days. She'll be gone tomorrow night.”
“So you can go somewhere.”
“Can you take me to the park?” Alfred asked, wide blue eyes looking for all the world like a begging puppy. “Please?”
“I can't go there- It's too close to my last...” Arthur's resolve wavered, as the eyes started to fill with tears. How the hell had he become so weak against this boy in such a short amount of time. “All right. You get me out of here, and I take you to the park and back. You keep the rabbit, and since there's no evidence, I don't go to jail.”
“Ok!” The tears were gone, and a brilliant smile was in their place, “I... like the rabbit. It's pretty cool-- did you see how the nose wiggles when you put coins in?”
“How did you--” Arthur frowned. “I didn't know that. I just thought it was a solid piece.”
“It's easy-- well. For me. I can see some of where the gears are and... It just looks like it should.”
For the first time, Arthur glanced around the room and really noticed things. The textbooks. The half-finished drawings that looked like schematics for aeroplanes. The models--
“You did all these?”
“Most of the models are old-- I've got new ones in the workroom.” Alfred smiled shyly. “Mother gets me all the materials to make my toys, and I fix her drawings for her. She keeps me safe, and I help her.”
“She keeps you isolated. Have you ever had a friend, other than Tony?”
“There's you, now. And I don't know your name yet.”
“Arthur.” Arthur was a bit unsettled. But then, Alfred hadn't met anyone else, from what it sounded like, he was starved for company. “All right then, Alfred, shall we sleep, then work on getting those locks picked tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure!” The enthusiasm returned, an overabundance of joy. “And tomorrow night, I can see those lights for myself!”