Chapter 8: Guilty

The medics surrounding the scene had tried to pry Arthur away from the body, but his hands were locked on Alfred. He knew he would have let go, but through his blurry vision he could see some signs of life in Alfred, he had small short breaths and his fingers were trembling. And with those signs in mind he refused to let go.
"Please sir, you'll only make it worse. If we don't get him to a hospital he'll surely bleed to death. Sir are you listening?" one of medics warned. A police officer was called over and pulled him off Alfred and held him back, despite his struggles. It gave them enough time to load Alfred on a stretcher and into the ambulance.
"W-Where are they taking him? Which hospital? Please, I need to know," Arthur begged.
"Please sir you need to calm down. Now are you hurt anywhere?" the officer asked. Arthur shook his head, he didn't want to be there any longer, he wanted to be with Alfred. He started back toward his car, bumping into numerous people and nearly running into cars. When he was nearing the crosswalk he felt hands pull him back. He turned around furiously.
"Francis? What are you doing here? Let go I have to follow that ambulance." he glared.
"I know what 'appened. You're not in ze right mind operate a vehicle" Francis said.
"Why the hell should I listen to you right now?" Arthur questioned, with bitterness present in his voice. "Are you telling me I shouldn't see him?"
"Zat is exactly what I am saying. They will throw you out if you continue acting zis way. Calm down for a moment and I will take you to 'ospital see 'im," Francis bargained.
"How do you know where he is?"
"Antonio is traveling with zem. Besides zat, your favorite cafe is only a block off...it's my treat, if you calm down."
"Fine. But for only a little while then you'll take me to him?"
"Oui"
"...Okay"
They stopped at the cafe, Arthur trudging to the bathroom to clean his hands while Francis ordered the drinks. He scrubbed furiously at his hands until all the blood was gone. He stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes were pink and puffy and he was trembling. He felt like someone had ripped his heart from his chest, taking what little hope he had in him. He wanted more than anything to be in the gondola with Alfred without any care in the world. He didn't want to be in a coffee shop, he didn't want to go in the hospital, he just wanted to be in the gondola with Alfred and he knew more than anything that it would never happen now. Tears fell down his cheeks and he began to bawl, falling on the bathroom floor. Almost on queue the bathroom door flung open and Francis walked in.
"I could hear you from across ze cafe," he said walking towards Arthur and kneeling next to him. He put his arm around Arthur and hugged him, trying to comfort him as best as he could.
"Francis please let me see him. I promise I won't make a scene. I just want to see him. I want to make sure he's okay. Please Francis." Arthur looked into Francis's eyes, trying his best to show he meant what he said.
"Fine" Francis stood and helped Arthur up as well. They walked out of bathroom trying to avoid the customers' and workers' eyes, everyone in the cafe had heard Arthur's cries, and blatantly stared at him. They made their way out of the cafe and walked towards Arthur's car.
"Where is your car?" Arthur asked, securing his seatbelt and backing up out of the parking space.
"Antonio dropped me off 'ere," Francis said. He waited until Arthur drove past the ferris wheel to tell him the directions. Surprisingly Arthur had composed himself quite well. His driving was steady and his expression stoic, the only trace of a breakdown was his puffy red eyes. Arthur's hands shook while he drove and he had a sickening knot in his stomach. Alfred was in critical condition when he had been taken away, his condition could have worsened in the time being. Arthur drove faster to the hospital, following all of the directions Francis dictated to him until the hospital was in view. He drove into the lot and hastily parked in the first spot that was open. He climbed out of the car and sprinted for the hospital's entrance.
Francis ran after to him and gripped his arm, "Calm down, you're already frantic. You didn't even lock your car doors either." Arthur grabbed the keys in his palm and locked it, afterward he tried to make a break for the door. "Non, breathe."
"This is ridiculous! I did everything you asked, let me go, Francis!"
"Fine zen, but don't 'ave a 'eartattack in zere."
Francis released Arthur and the Brit ran for the door as soon as his grasp was gone. Arthur strode into the waiting room and to the front desk. "Is Alfred Jones in?" he spoke with clarity, though under the sight of the receptionist he was wringing his hands.
"One minute, dear," she said as she scanned her computer, "J...J...ah Jones, yes he is in surgery right now, poor boy." She looked at Arthur, "Family member I take it?"
"Er...Yes. Step brother. Does he have a room?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, room 114, eighth floor. I don't think he will be out anytime soon, but you are welcome to wait in there. I'll tell them you're there." Arthur nodded apprehensively and walked towards the elevators. He pressed the up button and waited for the elevators to be available. One of the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside as a couple carrying their baby stepped out. The doors closed and he pressed the button for the eighth floor and waited until it brought him to that level. Hospitals were foreign to him, he'd probably only had been to one once in his life and that was during his birth. He wasn't fond of hospitals and this didn't help his opinion in the least.

When the elevator reached the eighth floor he stepped out and made his way towards room 114. He walked past other rooms, seeing patients ill and in casts only made him more concerned. Alfred could be in worse state than that, possibly even placed in a coma or even leading to his death. To him, thinking about Alfred's death was incomprehensible, Arthur believed that no matter how much damage had been caused Alfred would live through it. He approached the room slowly hoping more than anything that Alfred was still in surgery and he wouldn't have to see the outcome of the accident. He slowly opened the door, and sighed in relief. The room was completely empty. He had decided that he was going to stay over, knowing he would fall asleep before Alfred was brought in. He pulled up a chair in the corner of the room and sat down. He took off his sweater and rolled it up so he could use it as a pillow and avoid any whiplash. He couldn't sleep at first because of his constant apprehension and uneasiness but eventually his exhaustion set in.

Arthur woke up the next morning to the sounds of feet walking around and the beeping of a machine. He slowly opened his eyes in order to adjust to the sunlight. He stood up keeping his gaze focused on the hospital bed before him. Alfred's face couldn't be seen behind the monitor and he began to think of the possibility that the patient wasn't him and that Alfred had not survived the accident. He leaned to his right, seeing over the monitor and looking at the patient lying in the bed. His heart felt like it would burst, there were bandages wrapped around the patient's head, covering his eyes. He didn't look at the rest of the body and looked at label wrapped around his wrist. Alfred Jones, it read. He had never been so relieved in his life and began to smile thankful that Alfred was still alive. He was breathing slowly and the heart monitor was still beeping. He approached the bed quietly so Alfred wouldn't wake. When he finally reached the foot of the bed he froze in horror. Alfred's left leg and arm were in a cast and his chest was heavily bandaged in order to prevent the ripping of many stitches. What scarred Arthur the most was Alfred's head wrap. Arthur could feel the tears running down his eyes, he knew these devices would grant Alfred little room to smile or laugh. At this moment all Arthur wanted to see was Alfred's smile. His thoughts stopped abruptly when a man in white coat and scrubs entered followed by a woman wearing only her scrubs.

"Hello there. You must one of Mr. Jones' relatives." the man said wearing a sympathetic smile. He had no redeeming features of any kind and through Arthur's eyes was incredibly plain looking.

"Yes. I am his step brother. You are?"

"Oh how silly of me. I am Dr. Mona" He said, as if he were attempting to eliminate the miserable atmosphere inside the room.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes. With the way he's been reacting to the medication I wouldn't be surprised if he had a quick recovery."

"Really? Thank God"

"It's amazing really. It's rather unlikely for someone survive after a hit like that. I guess he just had a strong reason to live."

"Amazing" Arthur whispered wearing a tiny grin.

"He'll be asleep for a while but when he wakes call for the nurse." and with that Dr. Mona left the englishman in the room alone with Alfred.

Arthur moved the chair so that it sat by Alfred's bedside and hesitantly held Alfred's hand. He rubbed his thumb on the back of his hand, trying to warm it up. Everything seemed to be cold, the hospital, the room, and even Alfred. He lightly squeezed his hand, hoping for some signs of movement. He knew it was too early to expect anything, but still he hoped, hoped for anything. Maybe a small twitch in his fingers, or a deep sigh, for his eyelids to flicker, signs that he took for granted. Alfred just laid there, no movement but his steady breathing.
He sat by Alfred's beside for hours just holding his hand. His eyes were getting tired from the bright white walls and his body freezing from the temperature. He worried Alfred might be cold too and asked a nurse to bring in a thicker blanket for him. Once the blanket was settled on him, Arthur let his head rest on the bed, not letting go of Alfred's hand.
The morning came with brighter lights and the sound of nurses shoes and chattering. Slowly he got up, rubbing his neck wondering where he was for a few moments before it set in again. Arthur sat up, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to think about his appearance, his eyes burned and he didn't think he could stop frowning. He stretched and glanced over to Alfred. No signs of movement. He sighed, at least the American felt warmer than he had before. He dug his hand in his pocket going to call in sick for work, he wouldn't dare go to his office while Alfred was in this condition. He could wake up at any moment and he didn't want to miss it, even if it was his eyes slowly opening for just a second before going back to sleep.
All throughout the day Alfred didn't stir but it didn't crush Arthur's hopes. He had seen the America's eyelids move and him take in a deep breath before his breathing returned to normal. He smiled and gripped Alfred's hand tighter, no longer afraid that the American would shatter before his eyes. He shut his eyes, hoping for a short nap before the nurses came back in to check on him. When his eyelids closed he felt the smallest squeeze on the hand holding Alfred. He kept them closed, thinking it was his imagination but he felt it again. His eyes shot open and he stared into sleepy blue ones.
"Al...Alfred?" he asked tentatively.
He didn't speak, only squeezing Arthur's hand tighter. Arthur broke out in a smile, his whole being becoming brighter.
"...rthr..." Alfred tried speaking but only ended with a fit of coughs.
Arthur nodded and brought the glass of water to Alfred's mouth, having him swallow half of it before placing it back on the bedside table. He quickly returned his gaze back to Alfred's eyes. His eyes were sad and confused.

The young American had been surprised to see Arthur in such a miserable state. Arthur's hands had become cold from transferring his heat into Alfred's body and his overall appearance made him look like he was twice his age. Realization swept through Alfred's mind he looked down at his broken leg and froze. He was ashamed and didn't want Arthur to see him in this state.

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Arthur inquired. He couldn't help but see the look of disappointment plastered in Alfred's face.

He nodded and cleared his throat, "..how long have I been out?"

"Just a day" Arthur said.

"And...and did you stay here all this time?" he asked

"Of course I have, Alfred."

Alfred turned back to look at his injuries, he felt guilty. Instead of going on the ferris wheel and enjoying a dinner, Arthur had sat next to him the entire time in a hospital. He could have slapped himself for being so stupid, he knew there was oncoming traffic but he was too excited for his date with Arthur. He looked down sadly at his broken foot, he wasn't a hero.

Arthur took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was his fault Alfred wound up in the condition that he was in. If only he had been a few minutes earlier, or if he hadn't stopped for flowers it could have been prevented. He managed to screw up another date, and caused Alfred to be in such an awful state. He could never forgive himself.