Rehabilitation (17/?)
Title: Rehabilitation
Author: hetalialovesyou
Rating: PG
Warning: PLEASE don't hit me. Tissue. Lots.
Summary: The hospital.
Soooo, the end is near for the Jones' family. ;___; It just feels so odd. Well, there is one more chapter left. Buttt, if you guys really want me to, I can write an omake or two. :3
Anyways, I know I said I was going to update this, like, two days ago but this chapter needed serious revising. And so the completion of this chapter is all thanks to
yui_punctual
So, this chapter is dedicated to my Hero. I love you so very much but put you through so much crap. Please forgive me.
Enjoy!
There was a quiet knock on the door before it was opened slightly.
“Ah, good morning.”
The Jones’ family-excluding Alfred who had been sleeping for an hour or so now-looked up in the direction of the voice. A man was standing in the doorway, clad in an attending’s jacket. He was of Asian descent, with jet black hair so long that it had to be held back in a ponytail.
He smiled. “I’ll be Alfred’s doctor tonight. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
After shaking everyone’s hand and exchanging names besides Arthur’s, he glanced down at Alfred’s chart for a moment. Arthur squirmed in his seat. He didn’t want to hear what he had done to Alfred. He didn’t want to know what would make such a strong person become so weak.
“Well,” the man started, still eyeing the chart with slight disgust before placing it down on the bed. “It’s not a very wonderful condition. In fact, it’s a miracle Mr. Jones is still alive.”
Matthew shifted in his chair and Francis placed his arm around the younger child. “…Is that so?”
The doctor nodded. “You explained to the doctor earlier that Mr. Jones has been hallucinating and has had chest pains?”
Francis confirmed the doctor’s question silently with a nod, waiting for the man to continue on while Arthur stared at the seemingly lifeless body on the bed, counting every breath. Matthew had pressed his face into the older man’s shoulder, not wanting to listen as well.
“Explain, again, to me what his diet consists of. Has he been eating unhealthily?”
The child peeked around Francis at the doctor and mumbled, “He didn’t like to eat much. The last thing I remember him eating was part of a hamburger. Big brother normally drinks coffee and that’s it.”
With a frown the doctor scrunched up his nose.
“How long has he been under these conditions?”
“U-uhm…a week or so..”
“Hm. Coffee is a stimulant that speeds up the heart rate and blood pressure. And according to…Matthew, correct?-” The child nodded and urged the doctor to continue-“He’s been drinking only coffee for the past…”week or so”. Much more than recommended. By not eating and not drinking any water, Alfred’s body is now malnutritioned and his brain is dehydrated. This will explain the hallucinations.” Stopping to take a quick breath the doctor sighed.
“Alfred’s body is eating away at itself. If he’s been sluggish or tired often that’s because the body eats away at muscle before fat. From the large amount of coffee intake, I can assume he has an addiction. He will have a heart attack if this continues.” He said in an almost scolding tone before carrying on. “Due to his body’s health there’s a chance that when he falls asleep, he may slip into a comatose state. It would be good for him to stay in the hospital for a while. Depending on his condition by next week, he may go home with an IV drip and a nurse.”
Francis gripped onto his pant’s leg, somehow managing to keep his poise while Matthew on the other hand was about ready to cry. As for the angel, well, tears were streaming down his face.
I couldn’t bleeding fix him.
“Is there not anything you can do for him? Please, monsieur, tell me there is.”
It is not supposed to be this way.
Tears fell from the angel’s eyes as he watched his love breathe slowly.
“We would have tried therapy, which is usually the common thing to turn to first off. But, he isn’t responding at all. There isn’t much more we can do until his body responds to the medication given.”
Arthur watched as Matthew pushed the Frenchman’s arm away and jumped from his seat, dashing out the door with tears in his eyes. Francis stared at the doctor for a moment before standing and quickly jolting out the door to chase after the child.
The doctor sighed softly, expecting such a reaction from a person so young. He turned back to the American sleeping on the placid hospital bed.
I was too late.
“Well, Mr. Jones,” the man murmured as he picked the chart back up. “All we can do now is pray.”
Arthur didn’t bother to wipe his face clean as he quickly walked out of the room to figure out where Matthew had run off too. He would deal with Alfred in just a moment. The angel couldn’t stand to be in that room alone with him.
“Mathieu, Mathieu, please do not cry. I beg of you, bien-aimé,” Arthur heard Francis whisper, trying to coax the child who had been reduced into a crying mess.
The older man had pulled Matthew to the side of the hallway so they wouldn’t be a bother. Arthur watched in aching pain.
“He can’t leave me! He can’t leave me, too! I won’t stand it!” The blond cried out, shuddering as he clutched onto the Frenchman’s shirt.
Francis held the trembling child. He was angry. Very angry. If Alfred had simply listened in the beginning and called the number he had given the stubborn fool, he wouldn’t have ended up this way. He had gone through the trouble of setting up a professional doctor to help Alfred out. But the American couldn’t even do something as simple as call a phone number.
Even though the curly haired blond was furious with the other man, he held Matthew tightly and wiped the child’s tears away. He couldn’t be mad now.
“Mathieu, I will not leave you. At the least, I promise this to you.” He smiled faintly as he embraced the crying boy. There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t the one who could make it right.
What have I done?
Unable to watch anymore Arthur stormed back to the room, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t fix the one person he loved. He was utterly useless. If he had only come back faster. If he had only asked to see Alfred sooner before watching him come undone.
It was torture.
The angel stood feet away from the body in the hospital bed. He didn’t want to get any closer. The guilt was already eating him up inside. He could hear Matthew and Francis walking back down the hall.
“Arthur…”
Staring into pools of brilliant blue the Brit hesitantly took a step forward. Alfred’s gravity continued to pull him closer. The blond gave a large smile, reaching out for the other as his other hand pulled off his oxygen mask slightly to speak.
Arthur gave in and stood beside the blue eyed man’s bed. Alfred grabbed a hold of the angel’s hand and sighed contently.
“Where are Matthew and Francis?”
“T-They’re outside. They will be right back. Alfred, I-”
With a smile the American shook his head. “Don’t say you’re sorry. This isn’t your fault. I wasn’t strong enough to wait for you. I’m sorry, Arthur. I really am.”
Tears only fell from the creature’s eyes faster. He couldn’t seem to find his voice.
“It’s so cold, Arthur,” the golden blond whispered softly as he clutched onto the other’s hand, taking a quick breath into the oxygen mask.
Running his finger over Alfred’s jaw, the angel shuddered. Not yet. He couldn’t leave just yet. “J-Just hold on a moment longer, please. Matthew and Francis are coming.”
“You’re all I need.”
“…You are leaving everything behind. Do not bleeding do this to yourself.”
Arthur choked back a sob as he let go of Alfred’s hand to hold the tanned face between his own hands. He pressed his forehead against the other’s, willing the tears to go away and prayed that he could be strong.
The door opened. Francis walked in, Matthew clinging onto the older man’s hand.
“Ah, you are awake.”
Matthew rushed over to his brother’s side, beside Arthur and held onto the bed sheets. “Big brother…”
Alfred kept his attention on Arthur for the moment, kissing the angel’s soft pale lips before wiping away oncoming tears with the brush of his thumb. “I meant what I said, Arthur. I’ll love you even after my dying day.”
The Briton couldn’t remember when he had ever cried so violently before.
“Mattie,” He smiled; a weaker smile than before. “Francis.”
Just the sound of his name made the curly blond cry. Walking up behind the smaller blond, Francis nodded, waiting to hear what the man had to say.
“I’m so sorry. To the both of you,” he said, sounding disappointed in himself. Alfred raised his hand as Francis was about interrupt.
“Matthew, I love you so much. Please, don’t cry.” Alfred smiled, as he wiped away the child’s tears with one hand, still holding onto Arthur’s with the other. “Please forgive me.”
Matthew nodded, sniffling as he gripped onto the tanned hand.
“Francis, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I was stubborn and didn’t think I needed the help. Thank you for being such a great friend.”
No. Not like this. This cannot happen. You cannot leave this way.
“Arthur, don’t let me go, alright?” The American chuckled weakly, the beeps on the heart monitor slowing down. A nurse rushed into the room in response to the slowing heart rate.
The angel wrapped his arms around Alfred, holding onto the man tightly and wept. Matthew squeezed his brother’s hand while Francis merely stared, both unable to think of words to say.
Rain began to pour outside as the beats of Alfred’s heart faltered.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the hero.”
Before even having the chance to panic, the door was slammed open; the nurse from before rushed in with a cart almost twice her size, the attending and another doctor right behind her.
“Code Blue Room 612,” the calm voice on the intercom said overhead as Francis and Matthew were shoved out of the way. The attending hastily ripped the white bed sheets off of the American while the other doctor charged up the paddles.
It all seemed to happen so fast.
“Clear.”
Alfred’s body jolted up at the touch, his heart pounding rapidly before slowing down once again. Persistently, the doctor repeated the process over and over, until having to stop.
The sound of the flat line chilled them all down to the bone.