…

Mid-October

…

According to doctors and studies, the most painful thing that anyone could experience would be something along the lines of breaking a femur, or getting shot in the gut, but neither of those about to anything when compared to the pain someone gets when they have failed a loved one.

This feeling had never happened to Francis before until recently, because in every tragedy, he had been helpless to the situation. He didn't set the apartment fire while he lived in France, and there was no way he could say that he was able to help Joanne, because the only difference between him and Joanne time was that the firemen got Francis breathing again. A few years later, the car crash happened, and Francis knew that it wasn't his fault either.

What was different was that he did have power in this situation. Matthew was his son, and if there was anything in this world that could break the boy's silent spell, it would be him. Alfred was like a son to him, and if there was anyone that could calm the ten-year-old down, it would be him. Arthur was the love of his life, and if there was anyone on this planet that would help him with his slow, but recent weight loss, and lack of enthusiasm for physical therapy, it would be him.

Each were in their own agony, and yet no matter what Francis did, nothing helped. The school keeps punishing Alfred for his misbehavior, and as Francis has noticed, it doesn't help. So, the solution was to talk to the school about it, but they have to treat each student "equally" which means that no matter what is going on in Alfred's head, or his situation at home, he gets punished the same as the snooty rich kid who pulls on the girls pigtails.

Arthur, on the other hand, slowly lost weight within the past month or so. It wasn't drastic or serious, but they had to keep an eye on it to be sure it didn't continue. Meanwhile, Arthur has skipped out on a few physical therapy sessions, and hasn't been practicing what he can at home as often. In fact, Francis had to force him to practice a handful of times. Francis doesn't know what's going on in the Brit's head, and he would love to, but Arthur has refused to talk about it. Francis has even got a few snappy "Leave me alone's" and "Drop it's" when the subject was brought up.

The only saving grace is Toris, who, has made some progress. Matthew hasn't spoken yet, but he has been showing more emotions, and sometimes, Francis will be talking to the boy, and he can see that Matthew wants to say something, but won't. He's so close, but Francis can't help but feel like he could be doing more, and if he had in the past, Matthew would be talking already. Perhaps he should speak with Toris at the end of Matthew's appointment. Which should be at any moment.

Francis tired to mindlessly flip through some magazines in the waiting room, but the minutes still passed like hours until Toris' door opened. Francis sat forward in his chair and took Matthew's hands in his own, "How did it go?" Matthew only shrugged in reply.

"It went very well." Toris said encouragingly from his doorway before looking to Francis, "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Francis nodded, "I'll be right back," He said to Matthew as he handed over one of the magazines to him, "Why don't you look at this while I'm gone? I think there's a 'Spot the difference' puzzle in it."

Once Matthew sat down and started looking through the magazine, Francis followed Toris into his office, but before Toris could bring up what he wanted to talk about, Francis decided to get his questions answered, "May I ask you a question?"

Toris started to go through one of his cabinets, "Of course, Francis, that's what I'm here for." He assured, glancing at him of his shoulder.

Francis closed his eyes briefly, collecting his thoughts, "Is there anything else I can do on my end?"

Toris pulled a drawstring bag from the cabinet and turned back around, "Regarding Matthew?" He asked.

"Oui."

Toris gave a kind smile, "Oh, Francis, don't worry about your end, you are already doing so much." He rounded to the front of his desk and leaned against it, "All you have to do is let him know that you're there for him, that you love him, and that he can tell you anything, even if he chooses not to."

"And don't pressure him into talking, or he will resent me." Francis added, reciting Toris' words from an earlier session.

"Yes." Toris agreed. He was silent for a moment before speaking again, "If I may ask, was Arthur able to speak right after he woke from his coma?"

Francis sighed in exasperation, "No, but that wasn't he fault, he wasn't aware enough at the time."

"Mental health and physical health should be viewed in the same way." Toris said slowly, "Depression and anxiety shouldn't be seen as flaws in personality, but as chronic illnesses." When Francis said nothing as the words sunk in his head, Toris continued, "What I'm trying to say is that you have just as much control over Matthews mutism, as you have when Arthur was unable to speak. What is different is the treatment, and that's why we're both here, isn't it?"

Francis paused before shrugging helplessly, "I suppose."

Toris nodded in approval, "Good, anything else?"

Francis ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath, "There's something else, but it can wait. I'll get around to it before I leave."

"If you say so." Toris said, switching topics, "I got a little peek into Matthew's head today."

Francis began to feel hope again, "Did he speak to you?" He asked cautiously.

Toris' smile dropped a bit, "Well, no."

"Then, what do you mean?"

At that, Toris simply hand over the drawstring bag. Giving Toris a strange look, Francis opened it up and peered into it. In it were five small, plastic toys. "Have you seen the movie Inside-Out?" He heard Toris say as Francis reached into the bag and pulled out Fear, a character he could really identify with right now.

"Yes." Francis answered after a moment.

"The movie opened up doors in psychology that we didn't even know we had when it came out. Especially child psychology." Toris began to explain, "Children have a hard time knowing and understanding what exactly is going on in their heads, their changes in behavior, and the treatment they are given, and at the very least, these characters help me explain those things to the kids. In our case, they help Matthew express his emotions. He wouldn't speak, but he would point to the toys that represented what he felt."

Francis looked up from the toy and to the other man, "What did you find out?"

Toris paused for a short moment, "He's sad about Gilbert's death. We knew that, but he expressed it, and that's the important part. There was something that surprised me, though."

"What?" Francis asked eagerly.

"He's angry at you." Toris answered simply.

Francis took a moment to think about that. He tried to run through all the possible explanations, but couldn't come up with any. Eventually he gave up, looking back down to Fear, "Why would he be mad at me?" He wondered out loud.

Toris shook his head, "I don't know. Like I said, he wouldn't speak. He may not have a reason," He pointed out, "Anger is part of the grieving process, and he may just be taking it out on you irrationally."

Francis got the feeling that last part was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn't. In the end, Matthew felt that Francis had failed him somehow, and that's all that mattered. Francis sighed, setting Fear back into the bag and pulling the strings to close it, "Now what?"

"Keep the toys." Toris responded, "Give them to Matthew, and tell him to take them wherever he goes. He might not use them, but we should give him the chance to." When Francis merely nodded in understanding, Toris continued, "Do you have any questions?"

"No." Francis answered quickly, beginning to leave, "Thank you."

"Didn't you have something else for me?" Toris said, gaining his attention again.

Francis turned back around, "Right, umm…" He took a moment to think, "Alfred has been misbehaving at school."

"How so?"

"Getting in trouble with the teacher," Francis started, "Refusing to do assignments, and even getting into a few fights."

Toris pulled his eyebrows together, "That's very strange, given the way Matthew has talked about him in the past. What about at home?"

"He's irritable." Francis answered, "The school punishes him, but it's only making it worse. I was wondering that maybe I could bring him to you." He finally got to his point, "He doesn't need punishment, he needs help coping."

"Is he being bullied?" Toris questioned.

"No."

At that, Toris frowned, "Francis, I told you this a few weeks ago, I specialize in child abuse cases. I can point you in the-"

Francis interrupted him, too angry to hear the rest of what he had to say, "Yes, but Alfred has sat in the waiting room with me during Matthew's appointments, he's met you and is familiar with you. What about normalcy? Wasn't that important?"

Toris let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand over his face and crossing his arms, looking at the ground in thought, "I'm flattered at the amount of trust you have in me, but-"

Francis cut him off again, his voice beginning to sound desperate, "I trust you because you've always been able to help, you're the only chance of making this right."

Toris paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts, "I don't 'make things right', if I did, I could bring Gilbert back from the dead." He said. It was a blunt statement, but his voice made it sound lighter than it really was, "I help kids cope with abuse. If I could 'make things right', I'd go back in time and made sure they had a real childhood, but I can't because, like everyone else, I'm stuck in the present."

Francis was on the verge of crying, and now, he was just begging, "Toris, please…"

Toris gave him a long look before sighing in defeat, "Do Alfred and Matthew express a lot of sibling rivalry?"

The question seemed pretty random, but Francis answered it anyway, "No, they get along great, and don't really fight for attention."

Toris answered with a follow-up question, "What about in the past? Before Matthew's mutism?"

Francis shook his head, "Not at all."

Toris nodded, "In cases of sibling rivalry, it's better if they both had separate therapists, so they're not fighting over attention of one therapist. But, since that is not the case, I will speak with Alfred."

Francis let out a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank you. When's the earliest I can schedule?"

"Uhh," Toris then rounded his desk and sat in his chair. He then grabbed his computer mouse and started clicking as he stared at the screen. After a few moments, he finally said, "Tomorrow at 10:30 AM."

It was during school hours, but Francis decided if mental health should be viewed like physical health, then he should treat this like a normal doctor appointment. Besides, Alfred would be thrilled that he would get to miss the first part of the school day. "We'll be there."

Toris only nodded, clicked his mouse a few times, and typed on his keyboard a little, "Alright, you're all set."

"Thank you." Francis agreed, "I will see you then."

But, instead of using a parting phrase, Toris said, "There is a question I have for you before you go."

Francis paused, trying to think of what to expect, "What's that?"

Toris turned his computer monitor off and rolled his office chair to the side so Francis could see him better, "Since you are so concerned with normalcy," Toris began, meeting Francis in the eyes again, "May I ask how you practice that in the house?"

Francis swallowed thickly, trying to come up with the best answer he could. Eventually he shrugged, "Keeping things as they were."

Toris nodded in understanding, "So, in other words, pretending like nothing's wrong?"

Francis didn't answer that, he didn't need to, both of them knew that Toris was right. After the long pause, the therapist got to his point, "Achieving normalcy is not going back to the way things were, in your case, that's impossible. Achieving normalcy is coping with and falling in pattern with the storms life has thrown at you." After another long pase as Francis mulled that over, Toris asked, "Are all of you acting as if nothing is wrong?"

At that Francis only nodded.

"Do you love Arthur?"

He was taken by surprise by the question, but Francis answered anyway, "Yes, of course."

"And you feel like he loves you back, and as if you can talk to him about anything?" Toris questioned.

"Yes."

"And you give the impression that he can talk to you about anything?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, what's your point?"

Toris smiled kindly, "Talk to him. Once you two are on the same page, you'll both feel a lot better, and more ready."

The other man let the sentence hang there, and Francis swore he did that on purpose just so he would get more questions like, "Ready for what?"

"Life." Toris said simply, "That's what finding a partner is all about. What love is all about. Finding someone to enjoy life with when it's beautiful, and to team up with when life turns ugly."

Francis gave him a long stare, not expecting for this conversation to turn so philosophical. Eventually, he inhaled slowly and said, "Thank you."

Toris' smile widened, "So talk to him. In the meantime, I will see you tomorrow, yes? Unless you need anything else?"

Francis shook his head, somewhat in trance by the therapist's words, "No. I'll-I'll see you tomorrow."

Toris nodded, turning his computer monitor on again, "Drive home safe."

"Yes, you too." Francis said, heading out the door with the drawstring bag in his hand.

…

The Next Day

…

Alfred didn't like the idea of someone picking at his brain, so he wasn't going to let Toris do that. The appointment was only an hour long, and maybe if he just went along and half-assed his way through it, he wouldn't have to do it again. He told Matthew this last night, but, although he didn't say anything, he looked quite offended, so maybe it wouldn't work out like Alfred thought. Oh well, he would try anyway.

"Alfred."

Alfred looked up to the clock on the wall that read 10:30 sharp. He had to give it to the man, he was punctual. He then gave an uneasy look to Francis and Dad, who only gave encouraging smiles. "I don't wanna go." Alfred said to them.

"Go." Dad said in a reassuring tone, "You'll feel better."

"But I'm not sick." Alfred argued.

"Go, Alfred." Dad ordered, a little firmer this time, but still trying to be nice about it.

Alfred sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win. He got up from his chair and walked to Toris' office. The man was sitting at his desk, clicking on his computer. Toris looked at him and gave him a kind smile, "Sit anywhere you like."

Alfred looked around the room. There was a table with some chairs over to the left, along with a low bookshelf, and to the right, there were bean bag chairs and some toys. Obviously, he chose the toys over the plain table. If he was here, may as well make it a little fun. So, he sat down in one of the bean bag chairs and waited, picking at the carpet as he did.

It was a minute or two before Toris made his way over and sat down on the floor across from him, "So, how are we today?"

Alfred shrugged, "I'm good, I dunno about you, though."

Toris chuckled a bit, "I'm going well, Alfred."

"Then I guess we're doing good." Alfred responded.

"Yes," Toris agreed before getting on topic, "Now, Francis tells me-"

That's when Alfred remembered that Toris was here to pick at his brain, so he interrupted the man, deciding to be up-front about it, "Can you at least tell me what you're doing before you do it?"

Toris paused, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Picking at my brain." Alfred clarified, "Could you at least tell me what you're doing first?"

Toris smiled and nodded, "Oh, yes. What we're going to do today is get to know each other, and within the next few appointments, we will do some talk therapy. Do you know what that is?"

Alfred shook his head, "No."

"It's when you just talk to me about anything. What's troubling you, or your wishes and goals." Toris explained, "Sometimes I will give a subject to talk about, but some days, I'm just here to listen. Doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

It certainly didn't sound that bad. Not at all like what you see in the movies. In the movies, only crazy people talked to doctors like Toris, but then again, Mattie wasn't crazy, and he talked to Toris all the time. Deciding that the situation wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, Alfred shrugged again, "I guess not."

"Good." Toris said, picking up a clipboard that he had set down at his side, "I have some 'get to know you' questions for you, they are much like the ones you do in the beginning of the school year. I will ask a question, and we will both answer it. Okay?"

Alfred nodded in understanding, "Okay."

Toris glanced at his clipboard before meeting Alfred in the eyes, "So, Alfred, where are you from?"

Alfred didn't expect that question. After all, the man did know that he lived in the area because of Mattie's visits here. Nevertheless, Alfred answered, "Oh, I live like ten minutes away. But, I was born in London," He added, thinking maybe that was what the question was really about, "Dad tells me that they were on holiday there without my grandparents knowing, and I decided to arrive a week early."

Toris gave another chuckle at the bit of humor and started writing things down. After a moment, Alfred turned the question on him, excited to hear the answer due to the man's light accent, "So, where are you from?"

Toris finished what he was writing and looked up at him again, "I'm from Lithuania."

Alfred thought for a moment, the place sounded familiar, but he could picture it on a map, "What's that?"

"It's a country over by Russia and Poland." Toris answered.

"Oh."

There was a short silence as Toris seemed to wait for any further questions before moving on, "Is there any other place you'd rather live, real or imaginary?"

That was a bit of a creative jump from the last question, but Alfred liked how he had to actually think about it. He would love to live in a world with superheroes, but crazy things always happened, so maybe it wasn't the best choice. Alfred then realized that the world that he would like to live in was simple, but he didn't want to say it because he rather not bring Toris down. Then again, Toris wasn't his family, and he was here to help. Not to mention that you should never lie to a doctor. So, a bit embarrassed by expressing his emotions, he casted his eyes to the ground, and was honest, "A world where Mattie speaks again."

Toris nodded, and gave a sad smile before going back to writing things down, "Thank you for your honesty, Alfred."

"Wha-what about you?" Alfred asked, wanting to get off the subject.

"I came here to go to college, and ended up falling in love with the country, and my current husband, so I think I'm pretty happy where I am," Toris began to explain, "But, I do tend to get homesick from time to time. Living in a different country is strange, you never really get used to it."

"Maybe you should go to Lithuania on holiday. Maybe this Christmas, or in the summer." Alfred offered.

"I'll have to think about it." Toris said before looking at his list of questions, "Alright, what makes you happy?"

Alfred wasn't hard to please, so his answer was quick, "Going to dinner with my family. What about you?"

"Very similar," Toris started as he wrote, "Being with my husband." After another short silence, he went on, "What makes you angry?"

So, they were back to expressing emotions. Alfred didn't like the sound of this, but he may as well get it over with, "When I don't understand what's happening. You?"

"When I get ignored." Toris said simply, and Alfred could understand. It must be frustrating to give advice just for someone not to take it to heart. Especially for a doctor like him. Toris then continued, bringing Alfred out of his thoughts, "What relaxes you?"

"Sitting down and watching a movie." Alfred said, "Bonus points if it's a superhero movie. What's relaxing to you?"

Toris sighed and looked up, seemingly trying to find a way to explain it, "When it's really cold outside, but I'm inside by the fireplace, eating warm soup." There was a pause until he added, "Bonus points if it's raining gently."

Alfred laughed lightly as Toris wrote some things down. When finished, he continued with the next question, "What makes you sad?"

"I think it takes me a lot to make me sad," Alfred said in a bit of pride, "But I get really sad when my dad or Francis are… What about you?"

Toris took a moment to think, "My husband is really upbeat and optimistic, so if he's down, and I can't cheer him up makes me sad."

Alfred nodded awkwardly, and Toris went back to his clipboard. After a moment, he asked the question that Alfred wished he hadn't, "What is your biggest fear?"

Alfred felt his own expression drop. His first answer that came to mind would be snakes. But this seemed to be much like the question about what world he would like to live in. Perhaps he would have to think a little more than that. When dad was in the coma, he was afraid of losing him forever, but there was one thought that crossed his mind one night when he couldn't sleep, and it scared the living hell out of him.

Alfred must have been taking too long or looking like he wasn't going to answer, because Toris offered his first, "My biggest fear is losing a loved one."

Alfred took a deep breath, reminding himself that he could trust Toris, "When my dad was in the coma, my biggest fear wasn't losing him, but forgetting about him if I did lose him."

"I think everyone fears that to some extreme." Toris said, offering some comfort that didn't really help, "The last question is: Do you feel as if you can express your emotions at home?"

Alfred shrugged, "Not really."

"Why not?"

"Well, no one pressured me not to, or scolds me about it." Alfred explained, "I'm just… Usually happy and silly, and I don't want to worry anyone. They have enough to worry about."

Toris nodded again, writing it down. A few seconds passed, and he put down the clipboard, looking Alfred in the eyes with another kind smile, "Alfred, you may not know it, but you are troubled, which is okay, never think that it isn't, because life is complicated. But, you are here so I can help you, and I will." He continued, "I will help you cope with Matthew's mutism, and I will help you understand what is happening around you so you can counter you family's sadness, and your fear of forgetting. Because even if you don't feel like you can tell others at home what going on in your head, you can always tell me. And I will always help you with it."

Toris' words left Alfred nearly speechless. The amount of assurance and safety that Alfred felt was indescribable, but he could feel his throat go dry as tears of relief blurred his vision a bit. But, instead of letting the tears fall, Alfred just whispered, "Thank you."

…

A few days later…

…

Arthur had been too sore to practice his physical therapy today, or even go to the appointment. Or, at least that's what he told Francis, just like a few weeks ago, he told Francis that Lain had canceled last minute, so he couldn't go, because Francis was out doing errands at the time. But, even with those less than true reasons, Arthur could see some uneasiness in Francis' eyes, and he was beginning to realize that he couldn't hide behind those excuses forever, even if he wished he could.

He was going to get it. It felt like one of those moments when he knew he was doing something wrong, and so did his mother, but he also knew that the reason she hadn't brung it up yet was because she was collecting her thoughts on the argument, but it was only a matter of time before she ripped him a new one. But, instead of his mother, it was with Francis, and he knew he was going to bring it up soon, because he had been a little quieter than usual.

Arthur sat cross-legged on the bed, petting Black Jack while the cat purred. He looked up at the closed bathroom door, where Francis was getting ready for bed. Surely the Frenchman wouldn't bring it up now, just before going to sleep, and surprisingly, Arthur found himself dreading that fact. He wanted to get it over with. The suspense was killing him. But, that's not really how these situations go. He was the one in the wrong, and even if he agreed and compromised in the argument, it was Francis' job to bring up the subject, right? Not to mention that Arthur shouldn't force Francis into talking about something when he's not ready.

Then again, they hadn't been doing a whole lot lately. Laziness and procrastination was a new theme in the household. So, maybe some mid-ground? If Francis wasn't going to get to it himself, then maybe Arthur could try to get him to. Arthur hated beating around the bush, but if he was too up-front, then Francis' stubbornness would get in the way, and nothing would get done.

Francis then walked out of the bathroom, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts. The Frenchman made his way over to the bed, taking the ribbon out of his hair. Black Jack got up and ran over to Francis' side of the bed, waving one of his paws in the air. "Non," Francis scolded, putting the ribbon in the nightstand drawer, "You're not playing with it, you have cat toys for a reason." He then sighed when the cat curled up on his pillow, "Back Jack, I'm using that!" He exclaimed quietly, beginning to get into bed.

"Francis?" Arthur said, trying to get his attention.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Are you doing okay?" Arthur asked, "You seem a little put-off."

Francis tried to shoo the cat off of his pillow, "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow."

"You can't sleep when something's on your mind, Francis, and you know it." Arthur stated.

Francis gave a frustrated sigh, "You want to open this up now? Before bed?"

Realizing that Francis was angrier than what Arthur expected, he prepared himself for a full argument, "Better than pretending that nothing's wrong."

For a reason unknown to Arthur, those words seemed to delayed Francis' response, and even take some of the anger away, "You're slacking on you physical therapy." He finally said, his anger building up again, "Those are the only people that can help you recover, and you're not doing the exercises at home, and you're not going to the appointments."

"What does it matter?" Arthur asked in an exhausted tone, letting the words from his doctor from a couple months ago come into play.

Francis seemed thrown, "What are you talking about? Did I even hear you right? I thought that getting back to a healthy physical condition was important to you!"

"It is but-"

"But what?"

Arthur shrugged, "There isn't much more strength for me to achieve."

Francis rolled his eyes, "What are you talking about? Last time I checked, you didn't walk into the room and go to bed, or perhaps I missed something?"

Arthur glanced away, trying to find an easy way to remind Francis of the problem with that, "Francis, I'm not walking again."

Francis' expression of anger turned to confusion, then to understanding, "I know this is taking time, Arthur, but it's going to be a long recovery, we both knew that when we walked out of the hospital."

"No, Francis," Arthur said, a bit urgently, "I'm not walking again."

Francis tilted his head slightly, "What would give you that impression?"

"Um, my doctor?" Arthur asked sarcastically, as if it were obvious.

Francis looked at hims for a long time, completely still, but after a few seconds ticked by, Francis finally spoke, his voice nearing a whisper, "When did he tell you this?"

Arthur could feel himself pale as he began to doubt his memory, "I-I told you the same day we found out that Gilbert was terminal." When Francis just shook his head, Arthur raised his voice a bit, "Yes I did! I had the doctor appointment, and then Lain drove me home," He began to explain, "When I came into the house, you were crying, and I decided to tell you later because of the devastating news, and I…" Then, it was clear, "I never told you...did I?" He mumbled.

Francis just shook his head again, his expression unreadable. Arthur looked down to the blankets, actually feeling pain in his chest from the amount of disappointment in himself. Before he could wallow in self-hate, however, Francis spoke again, "I don't understand. You don't have any brain damage that would stop you. Learning how to walk again is difficult for adults, I know, but the only thing holding you back is atrophy. Did you get a second opinion from your physical therapist?"

How Francis could just disregard the lack of memory was unbelievable, but then again, to Francis, it wasn't his own fault, so Arthur went a long, "Well, no."

Francis nodded, "That is certainly something that you will do at your next appointment, and even if she agrees with your doctor, you go to the appointments no matter what. You're not throwing all of your progress down the toilet."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Francis shook his head, rubbing his temples, "It's okay, things are...Complicated right now."

Arthur thought he heard movement outside their door, but he decided to ignore it and get onto Francis side of the problems, "What about you?"

"Pardon?"

"You've been acting less than normal lately." Arthur explained.

Francis gave a slight wave of dismissal, "I'm fine. As long as my family is okay, then so am I."

Arthur nodded, knowing exactly what that meant, "So considering my state, Alfred's state, and Matthew's state, I'll take that as a 'no'."

Francis gave a humorless, low chuckle and looked down. He was silent for a moment before his eyes became watery, and he put his head in his hands, letting out a strangled breath, "I'm sorry, I've been trying to keep you guys together, but…"

Arthur moved in close, running his fingers through the frenchman's hair, "Don't apologize. No one said it was your job."

"It's my job to be there for you." Francis murmured through his quiet tears.

"And it's equally my job to be there for you, Francis." Arthur pointed out.

Francis cried softly for a moment before sniffling, "I miss him...And I miss Matthew so much. I miss Alfred's smile, too."

Arthur could feel his throat go dry, but he swallowed thickly in an attempt to keep it together, "I-I-" He started, his voice quivering a bit. He cleared his throat, which helped, "Me too, Francis, but Matthew is getting better, and hopefully, Toris can help Alfred too. In fact, I'm sure of it. Alfred did seem to like him."

Francis just shook his head, crying a little harder, "Why does life do this? Why does it kick you into the dirt just when you get your footing again?"

Francis questioning life's worth was maybe the most painful thing that Arthur ever had to hear. But, he took a shaky breath to keep his composure, "Because life is like a rollercoaster."

Francis scoffed, "Yeah, sure."

"No, really, Francis. Look at me." Arthur only went on with his rant when Francis picked up his head, "Think about it. We go up slowly, and we're talking and laughing, and are excited for the trip ahead of us, then, suddenly we go down, and feels like we're going to go straight through the earth's crust into hell, but we don't. We go up instead, and when we get to the top, it's a beautiful view of the city, and you nudge me, and you say, 'Hey, I can see our house from here!' And I roll my eyes, because I'm like that."

He then grabbed Francis' hand, "Then it all turns around again, and we're going down, but it's okay, because you're holding my hand. Then we get to the end, and our hair is messed up, and we have a headache, but we're laughing because of the adrenaline, and we're hoping that the line hasn't gotten too long because we want to ride it again."

Francis just stared at him, seemingly not knowing what to say, but that was alright, because Arthur came around to his point, "It just takes patience, Francis. You'll see the beautiful city again, and you'll get to make another stupid joke, but right now, we are in a low, and all you need to do is hold my hand. You don't have to pretend you're having fun, you don't have to make sure I don't hit my head on the headrest, I'm fine as long as you hold my hand."

Francis blinked at him a few times, the words slowly sinking in. Then, he took his other hand and patted Arthur's, "Thank you." He said after a long while, nodding slightly, "I'll hold your hand. You'll hold mine?"

"Of course." Arthur assured firmly.

Francis' lips curled into a small smile, and the crying seemed over. Maybe Arthur would go and make some tea to help them calm down more so they could sleep. But, he heard something outside their door again. It sounded like sniffling.

Francis must have heard it too this time, because his eyebrows narrowed and looked over his shoulder at the door. He gave a glance to Arthur before walking over and opening the door, "Matthew? Matthew, what wrong?"

Arthur couldn't see the poor lad in the doorway, but he could see Francis bend down a little to the ten-year-old's level, "It's okay, you can tell me." The was a long silence of nothing but Matthew sniffling and wiping tears. Then, Francis sighed, "C'mon, let's get you back into bed." The Frenchman gave a quick look at him over his shoulder, almost telling Arthur that he'd be right back, before disappearing down the hallway with the boy.

They had a long way to go before going back up and seeing the city again.

…

The next day…

…

It had been a long time since Matthew truly felt hurt. So far back, that he can barely remember it. But, Gilbert's death left him broken in many ways.

Gilbert was one of those people in his life who he could talk about anything to. Sure, he had Papa and Toris, but Gilbert always seem to understand him, and give advice that Toris wouldn't give. Like fighting back against a bully a few years ago. He never did, and eventually, the school did take care of the situation, but when Gilbert said, "Just sock him in the mouth. That'll shut him up. Do it right in front of the teacher. No one will ever mess with you again." Matthew felt a sense of power, even if he chose restraint.

But, he didn't have Gilbert's advice anymore, he only had Toris and Papa now, and he couldn't trust them, or Arthur for that matter. It was for a simple reason that Matthew hadn't noticed until Gilbert's death: They are adults, and adults hurt people, some more than others, but they all eventually do. Matthew counts himself lucky that he couldn't remember his father all that well, and when he thinks of his father, Francis usually comes to mind, not the man who beat him. He had broken memories of his first year or so with Papa, and as far back as he could remember, Papa hadn't laid one harmful finger on him. The man had done nothing but expressed gentleness and mercy to him.

Then, Papa lied to him.

Matthew swears that Papa had never lied to him before. He had said things like, "It's complicated." and had given vague information before, but never straight up lied to his face.

The lie was in the lift at the hospital, after Matthew saw Gilbert for the last time, if you don't count the funeral.

"Is he gonna get better?"

"Oui, he'll-he'll be fine."

Why talk to people who hurt you and gave you nothing but a false sense of relief and hope? It wasn't like Papa didn't know. He confessed that both he and Arthur were aware of what was happening about a week before Gilbert died. It wasn't fair. Matthew knew he deserved to know. What had he done wrong that would cause him not to? Even if he had done something wrong, he was sure that filed under cruel and unusual punishment. The only person that had really helped with his overwhelming and irrational fear of people and the world was dying, and he didn't even know it, all because Papa didn't sit him down and tell him the truth.

So, why speak at all?

Because, life is complicated and confusing, even to adults.

Matthew had gotten up in the middle of his sleep to the sound of voices, and when he went to investigate, he cold hear Papa and Arthur arguing behind their bedroom door. Things then got quiet, and it was nothing but murmuring, until Papa said, "I miss him...And I miss Matthew so much. I miss Alfred's smile, too." and eventually, "Why does life do this? Why does it kick you into the dirt just when you get your footing again?"

Matthew did hear Arthur short speech, and after that, he ended up crying. Because he realized that Papa was feeling the pain, too, and through it, he was trying to fix the problem that Matthew blamed him for. That in turn, Matthew was hurting him. He made Papa cry.

How did he let this happen? How could he be so blind to other people's emotions? How could he lack the empathy that Papa had taught him? Life is difficult, having children is difficult, how could he expect Papa to be perfect, and without mistakes? In the end, Matthew was being selfish.

And then there were Gilbert's last words to him, "...You be good to Francis and Arthur, you hear?...And you and Alfred look after each other, okay?..."

Matthew was a wreck, and it was no surprise that Papa noticed. They went to Toris to see if he had anytime for a walk-in appointment. Turns out that he thirty minutes free, which is half of the time that Matthew was used to, but it was better than nothing.

With the toys he was given, Matthew told Toris that he was angry and disgusted with himself. He tried to use Fear to explain that he was afraid that he would never be able to speak to Papa in his shame, and that Papa wouldn't forgive him, even though rationality told him otherwise, but the point didn't come across that well.

In sum, the appointment didn't make him feel any better. He looked down at Sadness, thinking about the film the character was in as he tried to get his mind off of everything. He could remember in the end of the movie, when Riley's parents were hugging her after Joy figured out Sadness' purpose. The moral of the story was not to repress your feelings. Which means he knew what he had to do to feel better.

Matthew clumsily laid his head on the car headrest as he turned he head to look out the window. They stopped at a stoplight, and through the glass, Matthew could almost see the cemetery. He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

"Papa?" He asked in a small voice.

Papa was frozen for a few seconds until he turned in his seat, his eyes holding a mix of surprise, relief. He took a long breath before whispering, "Oui, mon fils?"

Matthew paused, wondering if he should back out on this. He decided to go through with it, "Can we go see Gilbert?"

Papa nodded gently, "Of course, Matthew...Would you like to pick of some flowers first?"

"Please…" Matthew could feel tears coming on again, "...And I'm sorry."

Papa shook his head, and turned back to the road, "You don't have to be. It's okay."

Later, Papa got into the backseat and wiped his tears in the parking lot. As much as all this hurt, at least Papa was holding his hand.

…

…

…

Translations:

I do not think there are any that I haven't translated before.

Note:

Updates are slower as you can tell. I have come to realize that I shouldn't apologize for it because life is busy right now. But, in sum it was nice to get into Alfred and Matthew's head. I really like this chapter, and I think I wrote it well, it was just a bitch to write! lol