Despite what he seemed adamant to make the rest of the world believe, Alfred had never been a stupid boy. Arthur had known this from the first day he'd actually managed to slow him down enough to speak. But, somewhere in the constant blaring talk of comic books and movies, it became horrifyingly easy to forget any sort of mind he had.

Arthur supposed it was the fact that he couldn't hear anything that let him remember, and to be mesmerized by what was in front of him. All of the childish, fanatical movement was gone, and in its place only steady hands on a scalpel. His eyes were serious, and concentrated on his patient in the manner only really seen in connection to a video game.

That was such a shame, Arthur decided. He really wanted to see more of this. If this America walked into a conference, full of professionalism and determination simultaneously, the stars would move with progress. But it was never this Alfred, it was only the child more interested in gossip and lunch than in his global work.

If he wasn't stupid, if he wasn't too young to be capable of this, Arthur had to wonder why they never saw it. There was no way a child could hold the conglomerates, cures, inventions that he did, and yet this was what greeted them.

Arthur had to wonder if he'd ever been meant to see this. Perhaps this was the America for his people, his isolation causing a firm love for them and a flippant attitude for the rest of the world. Maybe he hadn't been meant to see this at all.

This was their America who had created prevention for Meningitis and Polio, and the definition of the dreams he spread throughout his house.

Arthur watched the blue eyes fixed in concentration, and the usually gaping mouth pulled into a firm line. The fact that it was covered in a facial mask was irrelevant, he knew what was there.

He was proud, or he'd be if it wouldn't go straight to Alfred's head. He was…. Surprisingly satisfied with what was before him. The surgical opening was stapled shut, and Alfred ordered his post-care amongst the nurses. It was only after that when he looked up. The surgical mask again meant nothing, as Arthur knew exactly how wide the smile had become.

Alfred finished with his staff and rushed out, the enthusiasm steadily growing as he got within range.

"Hey," he said as he pulled down his mask. "What brings you here?"

"We had a meeting," Arthur told him. "I assumed you had forgotten when you were called on emergency." He started to make his way back out of the hospital, his younger brother in tow.

Alfred smiled apologetically. "Yeah… there was a complication with the Atrioventricular node that I hadn't seen before… I might have to do a case study on that, but we'll see how the recovery goes."

Arthur looked over at him, and wondered why he had been allowed such a rare glimpse at the grown Alfred. Perhaps this was a sign that there would be real change in the world.

"I'm sure you'll be very success…"

"He was a squirter, too," Alfred went on. He grinned and pointed to the stain all over his shirt. "See? Isn't that gross?" The giggle had returned to his voice, and the adult was replaced with the boy who could find nothing in the world funnier than bodily fluids and functions.

Alfred yelled after Arthur, as he always had growing up, as he tried to figure out why the older man was swearing at him and storming off.