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“You’re getting so big, Emma.” Alfred cooed as he reached down to rub the growing swell of their surrogate’s belly. If the doctor’s report were any indication, the Jones-Kirkland Baby was growing almost too well inside the blonde haired woman. Emma was only seven months along and their little peanut already weighed an estimated four pounds. Alfred couldn’t be prouder of the not-so-little one. He was a very pleased daddy as he leaned down to coo at Emma’s stomach, ignoring the exasperated huff from his husband.
“Honestly,” Arthur snapped with just a hint of fondness in his voice, “you’re in public and embarrassing yourself and Emma.” His cheeks colored as Emma just laughed before grabbing his hand to place on her stomach. The baby pressed back and the Englishman felt himself falling in love all over again with this little human he hadn’t even met yet. He even felt a surge of love towards his old friend for agreeing to carry their child. He never thought the sweet Belgian girl he met at university would give him such a great gift one day.
Alfred stood to his full height, lazily draping his arm around Arthur’s waist to tug him closer to his side. A sweet, chaste kiss was pressed to the Englishman’s cheek, hiding a smile as Arthur sunk into his side. He was so adorable when he wasn’t paying attention to his body. As Emma and Arthur continued discussing the next phase in her diet (high in vitamin-c, and protein this time around) Alfred regretfully peeled himself from his husband’s side to pay for the doctor visit.
Since Emma was carrying their child, the surrogate contract they signed specified that they would pay for all expenses related to the infant. Considering Arthur worked as an English professor at the local college and Alfred was an investment specialist at a local bank, the two were fairly comfortable in their everyday life. Both were nearing their late twenties and finally felt situated in their livelihoods that a child would only increase the happiness in their home. Alfred peeked back around his shoulder to watch his husband chat with Emma and eagerly pour over the little printouts of the sonogram. He wondered what the man’s students would think of ‘hardass’ Kirkland cooing over the size of their baby’s feet and all the little socks he was making for it. Chuckling to himself, Alfred turned to greet the lady at the front desk, sliding his debit card across the counter to pay for the visit. Leaning against the counter, he turned to watch Arthur again, mesmerized by the way the man was glowing.
“Mister Jones, sir?” The soft voice interrupted Alfred’s thought process and he turned back to the lady with a confused looked on his face. She held his card out, cheeks a bit pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir, but..ahh..your card was declined.”
“Declined?” Alfred asked, eyebrows furrowing together as he took the debit card back. He had several cards in his wallet, but that card was tied to their checking account. Arthur’s paycheck was deposited yesterday. He knew they had money in the account. “Are you sure? Could you try it again, please?”
The woman nodded, taking the debit card back to punch the numbers into the machine. It beeped a few times before declining again. Sheepishly, she passed the card back over. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s giving me an error code. You might need to call your bank. Do you have another card you’d like to use?”
Alfred still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his debit card. He gnawed on his bottom lip before pulling his wallet out and laying the cash on the counter. “Yeah, it’s probably nothing.” As he waited for the lady to give him his change, the American pulled his phone from his pocket to logon to his online banking. A red scroll appeared across the screen of his phone: Account Frozen. Please Contact Customer Service. “Fuck.” He cursed, awkwardly apologizing for his cursing as he took his change back. He knew exactly what it was then. It was his brother. It upset him just a bit to know his brother continued to take money when Alfred gave him money every week. Arthur didn’t know that, though. Alfred handled most of the bills and balanced their checkbooks. He didn’t see the withdrawals every week. Hell, Arthur rarely even looked at a bank statement. It was a bit deceitful, but it wasn’t like the American was lying to his husband. (Or that’s how he justified it to himself.)
Arthur had noticed something wasn’t quite right. His pretty green eyes were dark as they narrowed at his husband, silently asking if there were a problem. He didn’t seem convinced when Alfred shrugged off his worry. Alfred strutted back over to the two, giving them his best ‘winning’ smile. Arthur’s eyes narrowed further. Yeah, he knew something was wrong. The Englishman turned to Emma, patting her hand gently. “Do you need a ride back to your apartment?” She shook her head, promising that her older brother was coming to pick her up. Right on the dot, the older man walked through the front doors and waved for his sister to follow. Both men kept up the façade of happiness until those doors closed and only then did Arthur pinch Alfred’s side. “What’s wrong?”
The young blond shrugged, ushering his husband out of the door and towards their car. “I need to call the bank.” He explained as he slipped into the passenger’s side, buckling himself up and pulling out his phone again. “Our checking account is frozen. I hope it’s nothing too serious.” He punched the numbers in, waiting for someone to answer.
“You haven’t ordered anything off any sketchy website, have you?” Arthur asked as he took the driver’s seat and cranked the car. He let it run as a cheerful voice on the other end of the phone call greeted Alfred. He listened as his husband explained the situation and answered a few security questions to gain access to their account. A single beat passed before the cheerful voice apologized for the inconvenience, but a young man in the town over was caught using a duplicated copy of Alfred’s debit card. According to the teller, twenty-year-old Matthew Williams used the card to buy a case of beer and cigarettes before the convenience store clerk recognized the card was a fake. Arthur stopped listening at that point because Alfred began insisting Matthew had permission to use the card. The older male closed his eyes, digging his fingernails into the leather of the steering wheel as Alfred finally managed to clear the problem up. “Matthew’s out of rehab so soon?” He asked lightly, already expecting the instantaneous argument from his husband. Arthur was the reason Matthew went to rehab last time. He’d convinced Alfred to put the Canadian into the program. Apparently, he hadn’t taken well to the lessons there.
“I signed him out. They were pickin’ on him in there, Artie.” Alfred defended as he reached over to cover his husband’s hand with his own. He tried not to frown when the man removed his hand. “Arthur,” he whined, fiddling with the ring around his finger, “he’s my brother. I promised I would always be there for him.”
“Being there for him and enabling him are two different things, Alfred.” Arthur snapped, backing the car out of the parking space to head back home. “He tried to steal money from us and this isn’t the first time! We both know that nobody will believe we let your half-brother create a fake debit card for his own personal use.”
With the argument brewing in the air, Alfred jerked back to rest his head against the headrest. “What would you like me to do, huh? Let him go to jail? Let him go hungry? If I just love him enough and give him all the opportunities he never got, then he’ll get better, baby. He’s…he’s my brother and I can’t just let him live on the streets.”
Arthur wanted to argue that Matthew had the same opportunities that Alfred had, but blew them on prescription drugs and alcohol. He wanted to scream at his husband, but he knew if his brothers were hooked on drugs then he would do anything to help them. Slowly, he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel to intertwine with Alfred’s own. “We’ve had such a good day, love. Let’s not ruin it with a fight.” He brought Alfred’s hand up to brush a sweet kiss to his knuckles. “How about we head to a nice restaurant and enjoy each other’s company tonight?”
“That sounds great, babe.” The American agreed before his face dropped and he shook his head. “They tried to arrest Matt at the store, but he fled. I want to find him, Art. It’s supposed to get cold tonight and I don’t want him sleeping on the street.”
The disappointment weighed heavy in Arthur’s chest. “Fine.” Matthew tended to come first, especially after last summer when he stumbled onto their front porch with a gushing knife wound in his side. Alfred worried constantly about the young man and it was beginning to strain the relationship between the husbands. “I assume we’re going to the other side of town?”
He nodded before leaning back to watch as the impressive buildings of the city slowly melted into low-income housing and cleared out lots. This side of town always gave the American such a terrible sense of dread and melancholy. Matthew haunted these abandoned lots and houses on nights when he was running from the cops. Alfred was almost positive his brother was somewhere close. “Pull into that parking spot.” He pointed towards a row of empty parking spots in front of a rundown playground. A few children mulled around the swings, but most were just standing around.
Arthur shivered as he stepped from their car, awkwardly locking the door as he suddenly felt the overwhelming sense of being watched. They knew the two men in expensive shoes, tweed vests, and black slacks did not belong on this side of town. He slid over to press closer to his husband’s side, always walking a step behind him. Alfred never had any troubles as he walked among young children to ask for Matthew. He didn’t even bat an eye when big, strong men grunted out a direction. Arthur wasn’t scared, but he worried about the danger waiting for them just around the corner. This stretch of abandoned properties was notorious for drug-heads and running into a crazed man high on cocaine wasn’t what the Englishman wanted for his night.
“Matt!” Alfred called from his left, immediately taking off down a back alley towards a figure huddled in a torn, red hoodie. “Matt!”
The Englishman sighed, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk as he watched his husband shake his half-brother awake. The kid was strung out on whatever was sticking in his arm. Fuck, it appeared prescription medicine wasn’t doing it for Matthew anymore. Arthur rubbed his forehead in frustration, preparing to storm back to the car when he felt the blunt end of a knife pressed into his lower back. A cold chill traveled down his spine as a rough voice cooed in his ear and invasive fingers slipped down his hip to dig into his pockets. Arthur never kept very much money on him, nor was his wallet important enough to risk a fight. He let the man have it, eyes filling with hot, frustrated tears as he realized his husband had not even realized he was getting mugged. All Alfred could see was his limp brother. For not the first time since Emma began showing, Arthur wondered if he would one day be standing on that abandoned stretch of property with his baby in his arms as his husband ignored them for someone who didn’t want their help. No, Arthur decided as he found himself alone, no, his child would never experience this if he could help it.
Once Alfred realized Matthew could not be woken up, he lifted his thin, limp brother into his arms to carry him back to the car. He walked right past Arthur, not seeing how upset his husband was at the moment. He used his keys to open the backseat and laid the unconscious man across the leather seats. Everything was quiet, except for the slamming of the car door as Arthur slipped into the driver’s seat. Alfred jogged around the car and got into the passenger’s seat. “Man,” he breathed out with a grin, “I can’t believe we found him.”
Arthur remained silent as he drove to the nearest road. It was only when they were back on the highway that the Englishman pointed to Alfred’s phone. “Call to cancel all my credit cards, debit card, and remind me to visit the DMV tomorrow.”
“Why?” He asked, eyes flicking up to the mirror to watch his brother sleep. “It’s going to be a bitch to change everything.”
“Well,” the Englishman drawled and allowed a bit of emotion to finally dip into his voice, “while you were peeling your brother off the ground, I had a knife pressed to my kidneys and my wallet stolen.” He cut his eyes across the car, green eyes filled with angry tears. “You didn’t even fucking notice, Alfred.”
Instantly, Alfred felt terrible. He felt like a shitty husband and reached over to touch his husband’s shoulder. “Artie, baby.” He breathed out, eyes wide as he realized how much danger he put the man in. “I’m so sorry. I should have…I shouldn’t have brought you out there. It won’t happen again. I…I promise.”
Arthur just raised his hand to stop Alfred’s blubbering. “I love you, Alfred F. Jones, but I don’t know…” He was cut off as Matthew became violently sick in the backseat. “Good thing it’s all leather,” he mumbled to himself, sighing as Alfred tried to soothe the upset man. Arthur wanted to drive them to a hospital, but Matthew always ran whenever they took him there. Despite his better judgment, he drove home.
~~~~~
It’s nearly midnight in the Kirkland-Jones household, but Arthur was not curled up beside his husband. No, he was on the phone in the kitchen with a warm, steaming mug of tea and his brothers yapping in his ear. He always called them for support, especially concerning Matthew’s addiction. Their father had been an alcoholic. It ran in the family as far back as their pirate ancestors. Just hearing his brothers made the Englishman feel a bit better because he could tell them the things that he found hard to tell his husband. It worried him because they had a baby on the way and Arthur found it so difficult to put his foot down on the ‘Matthew situation.’ He chuckled into the phone as Scott joked about kidnapping the baby and was just about the curse the man out when the sound of a glass breaking startled him. He jerked around, green eyes wide as he saw the disheveled, dirty form of Matthew Williams in his kitchen.
“Sorry,” Matthew apologized. His fingers scratching at his arm until red, angry marks danced up the pale skin. “I was tryin’ to find something to eat. Didn’t want to disturb you.” He stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot-to-foot as he looked everywhere but Arthur’s eyes.
The Englishman sighed, apologizing to his brother before wishing them a soft ‘goodbye’. With his phone call ended, Arthur waved the younger man to sit at the table. “Sit down,” he ordered as he walked to the refrigerator to pull leftover stew from the previous night. It only took a few minutes in the microwave for it to be ready. Arthur placed the bowl in front of Matthew, trying to hide his disgust as the man messily ate. “Want something to drink?” He asked to be polite, sitting back down when Matthew shook his head. It gave Arthur the chance to really look at his brother-in-law. The young man in front of him had changed so much over the past few years. Arthur could still remember when his cheeks were round with healthy, happy joy. Now his cheeks were sunken in and open sores dotted his face. He was far too skinny and pale.
Drugs were a bitch.
“Thank you,” Matthew interrupted as he finished his bowl, loudly letting the porcelain drop back against the table. He reached up to comb his fingers through his greasy hair. It was clumped in stringy, dark brown strands. Once upon a time that hair had soft, golden waves that bounced when he walked. Even his once vibrant violet eyes were dull and bloodshot. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, only adding to the redness of the raw skin. “Al told me you were mugged today. I’m….I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have been on that side of town.”
“No, I shouldn’t have.” Arthur agreed as he locked eyes with the dirty blond. “Alfred shouldn’t have been on that side of town either, Matthew. We have a good life here.” He pointed towards the picture of the sonogram stuck to the refrigerator. “We have a baby on the way. We can’t keep running after you. It’s time for you to decide what you need. The drugs, or a real family.” Arthur stood up, ushering Matthew into the downstairs bathroom. “Take a shower. I’m going to put some new clothes outside the door.” He flicked his eyes down the shredded clothes with a slight wrinkle of his nose. “There’s bags in the cabinet. Use them to throw those old clothes away.”
He didn’t stay downstairs beyond leaving the clothes outside the bathroom door. Once his task was done, the Englishman crawled into bed with his husband and snuggled into his hold. When Alfred woke up long enough to press a kiss to his forehead, the Englishman became overcome with emotion. They had such love between them, but he feared Alfred would drive himself to an early grave to save his stubborn brother.
Matthew needed to want to be saved, or he would never change.
When Arthur woke up the next morning to prepare for his morning class, he walked downstairs to find the living room empty. Matthew was gone once more. He didn’t have the heart to tell Alfred just yet. The older man simply walked into the kitchen to clean up from the previous night. To his surprise, the kitchen was clean, but an incriminating scene was left on the kitchen table. Alfred’s wallet laid open and missing the five hundred dollars in cash that was supposed to pay their bills for the first half of the month. Beside Alfred’s wallet was the piggy bank they made for their future child. It started as silly project at the local pottery shop and ended with an ugly, makeshift pig they used to start a college fund for their child. The little head had been cracked open and the one hundred and fifty dollars was long gone.
Anger surged through Arthur’s body as he knocked the remaining pieces of the precious piggy bank to the kitchen floor. The sound woke Alfred up, and the American jogged downstairs with a baseball bat in his hands. When he realized what happened, he looked like some tortured, kicked puppy. Arthur couldn’t leave him hurting no matter how angry he felt. He walked over and wrapped his arms around his husband before sinking into the man’s hold.
“It’s all my fault, Arthur.” Alfred mumbled as he buried his face into his husband’s neck. “I should have been around more when he was a kid, ya know? Pops was a fuckin’ deadbeat and his mom couldn’t be there all the time. I could have done something.”
This always happened after Matthew ran off. Alfred blamed himself for not being a positive influence in the young man’s life. How could the American not see that this wasn’t his fault? Whenever Alfred wasn’t working or studying, he’d been with Matthew. Their first date ended with Alfred having to pick the boy up from some rowdy party. He’d been barely thirteen and so drunk that he couldn’t walk straight. Arthur should have seen the signs right then, but he’d been young and so in love with Alfred that he didn’t want to upset the man. Maybe he was the one that could have done something to change this outcome.
No, Matthew made his decisions and only Matthew could change them.
“Alfred, honey,” Arthur whispered as he pulled the American’s head up to look into his glassy blue eyes. “You cannot blame yourself for this. It was never your fault. Matthew…Matthew has the sickness in him. You cannot change a person because you want to. He has to want it.”
They spent most of the rest of the morning holding each other in the kitchen. They didn’t care that they were late for work that morning, nor that they both looked tired. Their hearts and minds were far too heavy to care.
Alfred eventually picked himself out of his sour mood by the time he walked into the bank. He worked on the second floor, but he always took the time in the mornings to flirt with the tellers. Arthur always smacked him when he heard the man teasing the older women, but it grounded Alfred to talk to such sweet women. With his daily ritual done, Alfred felt a bit lighter as he stepped onto the elevator. He had a desk full of client information and knew his ‘to-do’ list included stock checking and several wire transfers. He really wasn’t looking forward to his day.
Still, the monotony of the day settled Alfred into a better mood. He reviewed his clients until a frantic knock sounded on his door. Blinking, the American pushed his chair away from his desk and opened the door. To his surprise, it was Matthew being held by one of the lobby security guards. Shame washed over Alfred’s face as the guard revealed Matthew dropped a small baggie of marijuana on the marble floor as he dug in his pocket for Alfred’s office number. Alfred managed to convince the guard not to call the cops and insisted that he would handle his brother.
“Are you stupid?” Alfred hissed as he tugged his brother inside his office. God, he hoped the security guard didn’t track down the boss. Alfred was talented, but he didn’t need to lose his job with the baby on the way. “Sit over there, Mattie.” He ordered, watching as his brother stumbled over his own feet before plopping into the chair.
“It’s not like I meant to drop it, Alfred.” The Canadian chuckled, rubbing his hand against the marks dotting his arm. They were hidden by the blue hoodie, but Matthew continued to scratch them. Some looked infected. “I wanted to thank you for last night.” He flicked his eyes down to the framed sonogram on his brother’s desk. “You and Arthur. You take such good care of me even though you’ve got a baby on the way.”
Alfred rubbed his forehead as a headache began to rumble underneath his temples. “This morning you stole money from my wallet and my baby’s college fund. Mattie,” he locked eyes with his brother, “that can’t happen anymore. I’m having a baby and I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
“You’re abandoning me too?” The Canadian asked, blood-shot eyes wide. “You’ve never told me ‘no’. Al, I need you.”
Just hearing those words sent Alfred into ‘over-protective’ mode. He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the top of his desk. “I want to help you, but I need to take care of my family too.”
Matthew nodded as he curled his hands into loose fists. “Help me one more time?” He asked his brother, peeking through his bangs to look at the man. “One more time and I’ll go to rehab. I’ll…I’ll stick with it this time. I promise.”
Those were the words that the American wanted to hear. It almost seemed to be entirely too good to be true. Alfred always heard you could never trust an addict, but he desperately wanted to trust Matthew. “You shouldn’t need money, Matt. You took nearly six hundred this morning.”
“I know,” Matthew answered, eyes frantically beginning to move around the room. A strong sense of paranoia came over the Canadian as he sat in his brother’s office. “I need you to drive me to the docks. I’m meeting someone there. Lovino.”
He knew it was a bad idea. Alfred could feel the tension thicken in the room as he mulled over his options. Matthew did promise to go to rehab. He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll take you.”
Matthew was overjoyed by the prospect, but that didn’t stop him from disappearing into the hallway bathroom for a few minutes. Alfred tapped his foot and hated that he could tell the difference in his brother after he got a high. He drove Matthew to the docks, parking along the warehouse and watching as his brother hopped out of the car. He couldn’t see around the large bins in front of his car, but he could see Matthew meet with a smaller man. They didn’t look happy, especially as Matthew dipped into his pocket to hand over a large wad of cash in return for another bag of pills.
Anger filled the American’s chest as he watched his brother strut back to the car. Alfred couldn’t believe that Matthew really believed he could bring drugs into his car. He prepared to lock the door, but the Canadian motioned for him to roll the window down. “I’ve got it from here, thanks Alfie.” He sweetly thanked, pulling the hood up over his head to head across the dock.
Alfred pressed the horn to startle his brother. “What happened to rehab?”
He stopped and turned around to look his brother in the eyes. For just a moment, Alfred saw that sheepish little boy who used to run to his arms whenever he saw him. That image disappeared as he shrugged, “we both knew that was a lie.” He waved at Alfred before disappearing behind the warehouse.
Disheartened, the American returned to work and was forced to answer to his boss over his sudden disappearance. He got written up, but that that compare to the ache in his heart. Even when he retuned home that night, Alfred couldn’t share his pain with his husband. Arthur didn’t know of the trips he took for Matthew. He didn’t know of the true dangers Alfred subjected himself to for his brother.
~~~~~
A month went by without another word from Matthew. This was not an unusual occurrence. The Canadian would disappear for weeks and months after taking money from his brother. Eventually, he’d turn up strung-out on whatever drug he was using, but until then there was very little they could do. Alfred wasn’t allowing Arthur to return to the Canadian’s old haunts, not after what happened last time. Even Alfred found himself not caring about looking for the man. Matthew slowly returned to the back of their minds as Emma’s stomach continued to grow with their child. They had something new to take their minds off the dark cloud hovering over their marriage.
At the eight-month check-up, Alfred was the only one that joined Emma. Christmas was right around the corner and Arthur had to proctor final exams for his students. He was impatiently waiting for a check-up status while he watched his students like hawks. If the knitting needle and soft, green yarn in his briefcase that morning were any indication, then Arthur was probably well into his second baby sock by the time the visit ended. They decided very early on that they didn’t wish to know the baby’s gender. There were very few true surprises in life, and the gender of their baby would be the ultimate surprise.
Emma was doing great, so was the Jones-Kirkland Baby. The doctor was a bit worried about the fluid Emma reported leaking from her vagina, but he insisted a little fluid wasn’t dangerous. He told them not to worry. At 35 weeks, they were almost to the home stretch.
With the doctor’s visit over and Emma’s stomach growing, the American offered to take her to a local restaurant to grab a bite to eat. She readily agreed, waddling across the doctor’s office and towards Alfred’s car. He teased her, of course, because she was absolutely adorable with her belly poking out so far. Emma claimed she was carrying the baby really high and her grandmother always said high pregnancies were guaranteed boys. Alfred beamed at the thought. He’d always wanted a little boy to teach football and baseball. Hell, even if he got a little girl he’d teach her to play the same things.
In those moments, with Emma laughing as she told him that the baby really liked classic rock n’ roll, Alfred could almost forget about his missing brother. The American stopped his car at a red light, smiling as he turned to make a face at Emma. She’d just told him that he was getting wrinkles along his forehead because of his pensive look. Just as the traffic light turned green, a blur distracted the man for a split second. Once he realized it was a rather large brick being thrown into his car, it was almost too late. “Get down!” He shouted, pushing Emma forward just as the brick shattered the front glass.
Frantic hands sought to unhook her seatbelt as she screamed in his ear. He had to get her and the baby out. When he managed to unhook the seatbelt a pair of thick hands grabbed his collar and pulled him through the driver’s side door. A gun pressed against his cheek, the cold barrel sending terror throughout his body. “You tell your brother that Lovino is looking for him. He has a debt and Lovino intends to collect.” His collar was let go as the man tipped his hat to the still screaming Emma. “We’ll be in touch.”
The next few hours were a blur. The fright threw Emma into preterm labor. At 35 weeks, there was a great chance the baby would make it, but the doctor wanted to keep the baby inside the womb for as long as possible. They hooked Emma to machines and forced her into a dreamless sleep. Alfred had several cuts across his face, but an ER intern stitched him right up. The worse part of the night was Arthur running down the hallway with pure fear written across his face. He collided with Alfred for a few seconds before running to Emma’s side. They don’t talk as Arthur holds Emma’s hand, but the Englishman’s body language tells Alfred everything he needs to know. Arthur’s pissed.
Alfred curled up on the opposite bed to catch a few hours of sleep, but the sheets were too starchy and smelled like disinfectant. He tossed and turned until Arthur finally snapped at him. He apologized and sat up with a defeated sigh. “They were after Matthew.” He finally said with his pained blue eyes closing as he clutched his chest. The mafia was after his brother and he was the one that brought Matthew to them. “The fuckin’ mafia are after my brother.”
“We both knew he was into something deep.” Arthur whispered softly, finally releasing Emma’s hand to walk over to Alfred’s side. Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket to pull out the last few months’ bank statements. He tossed them into Alfred’s lap. “You’ve been lying to me for a while. Do you know how much money you’ve given him the past few months? Nearly $10,000, Alfred. What else have you been hiding from me?”
“I didn’t lie to you. Just didn’t tell you everything.” The American couldn’t look his husband in the eye. “We’re not broke, Arthur. I…there were trips to places. I think that’s how they knew my car. I didn’t realize it was getting so out of hand. I just wanted to help him. I just wanted…”
“Wanted to get us killed?” Arthur snapped, shoving Alfred with his hand. “It doesn’t matter if we’re broke or not, Alfred. What matters is that $10,000 could have been used for toys or a new home. If Emma would have been hit, we could have lost our baby, Alfred.” He tightened his hands into fists, eyes closing as tears welled up. “You have to make a decision, Alfred F. Jones. Right here and right now.” He stood up and pointed to the woman hooked up to the baby monitor with their baby’s heartbeat shown on the screen. “No more trips to drug alleys. No more money being pulled from our pockets. No more fucking bricks being thrown through our windows. No more trips to other towns to find him. No more, Alfred F. Jones. We are having a baby and we are your family now. You have a responsibility to take care of us. We want your help.” He walked over to his husband, cupping his tear-streaked cheeks with his hands and tilting the handsome face up. “You can’t change him, my love. He doesn’t want your help or he would have gotten his act together. You can’t rescue the unwilling.”
Alfred inhaled sharply, burying his face into Arthur’s shoulder as all of those emotions boiled over. He’d always wanted to be his brother’s hero, but sometimes the hero wasn’t able to save everyone. “I just want him to be happy.” He whispered, rubbing his eyes as he finally pulled away from Arthur. “I can’t do tough love, Art. He’s my baby brother and I...”
“It’s going to be hard, Alfred.” Arthur interrupted, rubbing those tears away with his thumbs. “You’ve always had such a tender heart, but Matthew has taken advantage of those feelings. He can’t change if he knows you’ll endorse his bad behaviors. He has to be willing too, Alfred. I’m so fuckin’ pissed, Alfred. We’re going to have to change some things because this cannot happen again.”
Those words stuck in Alfred’s mind. He had to be willing. Alfred had done everything he could for his brother. It was up to Matthew now. He had a family to take care of. Arthur shouldn’t forgive him, but he did. He willingly pulled Alfred to his chest and let the American mourn his brother. The two lovers wrapped themselves together and held each other through the night.
Morning brought new surprises into their life. Emma’s labor could not be stopped with drugs. Early that morning Alfred and Arthur stood on either side of her as she struggled to bring the troublesome Kirkland-Jones Baby into the world. At exactly four o’clock in the morning, Peter Kirkland-Jones came squalling into the world. Since he was premature by a few weeks, the nurses took the child away to check over him. He needed a slight stay in an incubator in the NICU, but his vitals were stable enough for everyone to get a good look at him. Emma looked absolutely exhausted as she passed the squirming infant to Arthur who was beside himself with joy. It was fairly obvious from the pair of Kirkland eyebrows across Peter’s forehead that the little one was his progeny. They hadn’t wanted to choose whom to become the father, but they mixed their sperm together before letting the doctor insert it into Emma. It appeared Alfred’s sperm were as lazy as the man himself. Surprisingly enough, Alfred didn’t feel an ounce of disappointment as he smoothed his finger across those eyebrows. He just turned to capture his husband’s lips as they cradled their child together.
“He’s going to be a little heartbreaker,” Alfred cooed down at his child. He was emotionally fried. Both of them were to be honest. Since Peter was premature, the NICU nurse reluctantly took the infant from his fathers and carried him down the hall. Alfred watched his son go with the nurse, sighing as he leaned into his husband. The nurse promised they could visit after little Peter was cleaned off and given a more thorough check-up.
“He’s our child,” Arthur said with a smile, “he’s strong and he’ll be fine.” The Englishman rubbed his husband’s back, leaving his side to check on Emma. The Belgian woman did just give birth to their child, after all.
Alfred turned to follow his husband back into Emma’s room, but an ER intern stopped him outside the door. It was the same intern that treated him the previous night for his lacerations to the face. He leaned in to request his presence in the emergency room. His eyebrows furrowed together as he followed the intern downstairs. He was brought into a trauma room and squinted his eyes at the beaten and bloodied figure on the bed.
It was Matthew.
His arms fell loose to his side as he stepped forward a bit closer to the prone figure. The machines told him that his brother was still alive, but his face was so bruised that his eyes were swollen shut. “What happened?” He asked out loud, not expecting the intern the answer.
“They rolled him.” The intern explained. “Drove through the ambulance bay and tossed him into the bushes. We get one or two a week. They’re always drug related.” He flipped through his chart. “We found his ID on him and your business card. Figured you might know him.”
Alfred nodded as he stood beside the bed, hands lightly touching the rail. “He’s my brother. Will he be okay?”
The intern shrugged, “for the most part he should be. His system is pumped full of drugs and alcohol so he probably can’t even feel the shattered femur bone.” He marked something else off his chart. “Or the ruptured spleen or the fractured eye sockets. When he’s healed, someone needs to make a decision if he’ll go to rehab.” He pointed his pet towards the prone man. “He’s awake, you know. I’ll leave you two alone.”
As the intern left, Alfred almost turned to follow him out. He couldn’t focus on Matthew any longer. His premature son was waiting on him. He did turn, but a soft sound from Matthew’s bed stopped him. He closed his eyes as another whimper reached his ears. He couldn’t leave now. Alfred stood beside his bed, looking down at the shifting man.
Matthew couldn’t open his eyes, but he could manage a few words. “Sor’y.”
The word resonated throughout Alfred, but Matthew said ‘sorry’ every time he messed up with his brother. For the first time in a long time, Alfred couldn’t accept just sorry. “You’re not sorry, Matthew.” It was easier to say than he thought it would be. “When that Lovino person couldn’t find you, he came to find me and tossed a brick into my car. It caused my surrogate to go into premature labor and endangered the life of my son.” Alfred’s lower lip trembled, but he continued. “I guess he eventually found you, but I won’t do this again. Never put my family in danger again, Matthew. If you can’t kick the habit, then don’t come around because I don’t need you bringing those influences into my home anymore. I won’t enable you any longer.”
The Canadian hummed to acknowledge everything Alfred said. He slowly lifted his arm despite the pain shooting across his face. “Re’ab.” He mumbled as he touched his brother’s chest. “No mo’e pain.”
Alfred wanted to be happy, but Matthew was a creature of habit. He knew promising rehab would bring Alfred back to his corner. Or it used to bring Alfred back to him. The American straightened his spine before gently placing Matthew’s hand back on the bed. “Fine, you’ll go to rehab, but I’m not signing you out. You’ve got to want this, because I’d rather not waste anyone time sending you to a program you’ll just quit.”
Matthew turned his hand to capture Alfred’s wrist before he moved away. “I w’nt.” He panted out softly, “I want.”
~~~~~~~
Four years later
~~~~~~~
“One, two, three, four, jump!” Alfred shouted to his son, laughing as the little boy continued to cling to the rope swing as if it were his last hope. “Petie, baby, you’ve got to let go.”
“No, Daddy!” Peter shouted as his skinny little legs and arms clung to the rope as it slowly stilled halfway between the platform and the lake. He wasn’t very far off the ground. A tall man could easily grab the young child if he needed to get down. “There’s alligators in the lake!”
Alfred snorted as he knelt down on the platform, “c’mon baby, why would daddy let his favorite little boy jump into a lake full of alligators? Papa would skin me alive if I brought his little boy home without all his toes!”
Peter laughed loudly, blue eyes wide as his hands slipped down the knotted rope. He let out a slight scream, but soon a pair of strong arms were wrapping around his waist to pull him off the rope. “Uncle Mattie!” Peter cheered as he wrapped his arms around the Canadian’s neck.
Matthew laughed, spinning himself and his nephew until Peter squealed even louder. “Surprise munchkin.” He said as he propped his nephew on his hip and waved towards his brother still standing on the platform. “How’s my favorite nephew?”
“I’m your only nephew, Uncle Matt.” The little boy cooed, pecking the Canadian’s full, healthy cheeks before wiggling to be let down. Matthew watched as Peter climbed back up the steps to stand beside his father on the platform with a wild grin. “Watch me Uncle Mattie!” Peter called, grabbing the rope from his father and finally swinging into the lake. Arthur made sure to teach him from a very young age how to swim. Plus, the lifejacket around his torso kept him from going under too far.
Matthew watched him for a moment before turning his attention to the picnic table loaded with food. His eyes caught Arthur’s smile as the Englishman waved his brother-in-law over. “He’s going to be upset if you’re not watching him.”
“He’s too focused on trying to make a bigger splash than Alfred.” Matthew joked, rubbing his shoulder as a cold wind blew through the camp. Old wounds still bothered him on colder days. It took away from the dull ache in the back of his mind that thirsted for another taste of the old days. Sometimes he thought of the needles and the pills, but mostly he thought of hearing the doctors say he wouldn’t survive another year on the street. He thought of his brother leaving him. “I wish him luck with that. Alfred’s ass is getting bigger every time I see him.”
Arthur snorted with laughter, smacking Matthew’s arm as he offered the Canadian a bottle of water. “With a new baby on the way, we’ve been trying to stick to a healthier diet.” Arthur rolled his eyes as he watched Peter jump on Alfred’s back. “I think they’re both cheating.”
“Matthew won’t let me cheat on my diet,” an accented voice interrupted, making Matthew smile as he walked over to pull his girlfriend into his arms. Julchen Beilschmidt grinned as she pinched Matthew’s cheek.
The Canadian wrinkled his nose as he wiggled out of her hold. Instead, he walked behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. His face placed right in the middle of her shoulder blades. He slumped against her strong form and simply breathed in her scent. She didn’t move an inch, just letting him take comfort in her body. She was his rock and she grounded him in ways no one else could.
Julchen was a guidance counselor for the substance abuse program he entered after rehab. He’d looked so pathetic after returning to the ‘real world’ that Julchen claimed she was ‘forced’ to show him how to have a good time. It was love at first sight. She was good for him. When the nightmare cravings started up during the year, she was the one that distracted him with silly stories and soft kisses.
She’d inspired him to take up painting as a way to curb his cravings. With a paintbrush in his hand, Matthew was able to cope with those blank years during his youth. He was able to paint himself a picture of where he came from and where he promised himself he could never go back. Of course, once he finally painted himself to the root of his problems, he painted for the future. It was strange to think back on his past now, because most of it remained in a drug-induced haze. He painted that out in his pictures too. (In a very strange turn of events, Matthew began selling his paintings out of a window front and Lovino approached the artist about purchasing a print. The mafia boss hadn’t seen a healthy, sober Matthew and never realized the man he brutally beat was the man who painted such intriguing pictures.)
Four years sober sounded better and better every time he said it to himself. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means, but if he lived his life day-by-day then he was slowly developing the tools to survive his cravings.
“Uncle Mattie! Come take a swing!”
Matthew blinked as he peered around his girlfriend’s shoulder, smiling at the little imp standing on the platform. His violet eyes trailed from his nephew to his brother and his heart swelled with love and affection.
“Yeah, c’mon Mattie! I bet I can swing higher than you!”
He was so glad he’d wanted it bad enough.
“Go on, Matt! Show them your awesome skills!”
So very, very glad.