That's One Heck of a Souvenir [Gil, Nico, and Al]

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

 If I'm going to hell...
       I won't be going alone...

It was late. It was really really late. Normally, that didn’t bother Gil. Like the German, Alfred Jones never kept what one might call “normal hours.” It was one of the things that had drawn them both together… After the dust had settled regarding West’s ‘contract’, Gil couldn’t forget the American. Sure he had been mad, livid even. But he had to admit that, in the end, he needed Al. (As frustrating as that was to realize.) He didn’t have anyone else to discuss his plans with relative impunity and despite the troubles in the past, Gil knew implicitly that he could trust Alfred F. Jones. He had lived long enough to trust his instincts and his instinct told him that he should keep Alfred in his life.

And so began the late-night visits. No matter when Gil needed to visit to discuss the progress with the factory, or when Al needed a sounding board for his FF ideas, they could pretty much count on the other to be awake. They never called ahead, “too risky” Al had said during their first meeting. Can’t leave a paper trail, anything that could officially tie the two together was a risk. So they fell into the tried and true “just show up on the other’s doorstep and hope the person’s home” method. And surprisingly, it had worked pretty well. The two just seemed so in sync time wise, that it was rare night that Gil showed up at Al’s door and found the apartment vacant.

Gil prayed that tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. He had no idea why he came here first. He could have gone to Toni’s… and yet… it didn’t feel right. He couldn’t bother his friend at two in the morning. Not with what was going on in Gil’s life. Al was the reasonable choice, Gil thought (not that he had to justify his actions to himself, definitely not.) After all, Al was used to seedy activities, to secrets and…murder?

Gil shivered, clutching the bundle in his grip almost unconsciously. He could barely think the word without wanting to retch. He had actually killed another human being, ended a life. Sure, if anyone had ever deserved it, it had been that detective and yet… Gil couldn’t get the look in Ren’s eyes out of his head, the look of shock… the sound of bone crunching under lead… the way his limbs twitched after the final blow, as though an electric current had been run through them. He hadn’t slept since the whole ordeal, his dreams haunted by the man once more. Except this time was different… this time Ren was broken, head bent at an obscene angle. But that smile, that all knowing smile was still in place, as though he knew something that Gil didn’t. As if everything was going according to plan. As if he knew all along that Gil was damned… It took everything in Gil not to believe that smile.

He felt the bundle shift in his arms, effectively dragging his mind away from that disastrous train of thought. He looked down, concern in his eyes as he stared at the child, swaddled in a thick coat and two thick blankets to shield him from the icy Russian nights. His face was calm, peaceful in his slumber, and his head was heavy on Gil’s shoulder, nestled in the nook of his neck, his breath hot against Gil’s exposed skin. He was so… fragile… and he was dependent on Gil…

Fate certainly had an interesting sense of humor. Not more than a week after Gil was responsible for ending one life, is he charged with the beginning of another. What in the hell was he supposed to do with this child? How was he supposed to raise Nico? Who was he to mold this child into a responsible adult, to teach him morals? Sure, he’d taken an active role in raising West… and look how that had turned out. Gil had to get this right. Nico still had a chance, was yet to be sullied by the darkness of Archadia. But could Gil really prevent the same fate from befalling him? How was he supposed to save the boy nestled in his arms when he couldn’t save West? When he couldn’t save himself…

Gil shook his head slightly, willing away the fear, the dread, the exhaustion away. He just had to talk it over with someone, just lay everything out on the table. And who better than a fellow insomniac with just as many secrets as he has? Swallowing heavily, he shifted Nico slightly and rang the doorbell. “Please be home.” He murmured, almost desperately.

Gilbert didn’t scare easily. But the idea of returning to his quite house, spending another night alone, wrestling with the ghosts of the past and the responsibilities of the future… It terrified him.

word count: 814
tags: Alfred F. Jones , Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt
notes:... and some people just bring back vacation photos... losers...

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 856

Tags: Gil, Nico

Notes: ...I settled on this icon. Gotta compromise.

It was a quiet night.

Alfred couldn't sleep, but then again, Alfred rarely could. Really, he didn't even bother trying before one these days, and tonight he'd been preoccupied by plans. He'd started drinking coffee at eleven. Probably a mistake on his part, but Alfred didn't mind a long night.

Plans, plans, plans. If only they could come to fruition. But there were always the same problems. Not enough people, not enough resources. If only Alfred could move the world on his own.

Alfred stared at the map of the Underground, tapping the pen against his chin. It wasn't a ton of help, to be honest. It wasn't like Alfred could just unlatch a door and free all mutants. No, as much as Alfred was reluctant to admit it, he needed to rely on other people for anything to work. Alfred had plans alright, but he needed other people to help him implement them.

Speaking of other people...Alfred frowned as he took a sip of coffee. Where in the world was Gilbert Beilschmidt? Alfred wasn't worried about him, per se, just...concerned? No, that meant the same thing. He just thought it was odd, that Gilbert hadn't shown himself in a while. Gilbert almost always seemed around, even with Alfred chastising him for not being more careful. Alfred had grown used to the sound of knocks at midnight, had even come to anticipate them. Gilbert almost always showed. Alfred occasionally visited Gilbert's house, but never with the same degree of frequency.

Alfred had stopped by a few days ago in fact. He'd parked a few blocks away and walked past the house. He'd never intended to enter, but he'd been curious as to what Gilbert was up to. The answer, however, evaded him. The house was completely dark. At first, Alfred had speculated that Gilbert was out at a party or business meeting or something of the sort. That was usually the reasoning for Gil not being around. Yet his car was in the driveway, and when Alfred walked by, he could see dust on the windshield. The house gave off an almost abandoned feel to it, leaving Alfred only more confused.

Then again, Alfred had never really understood Gilbert. He didn't understand why the man kept coming around. He could easily have worked with anyone else in the Freedom Fighters. If Alfred had been in Gilbert's position and had that choice, he would have. It wasn't like Alfred hadn't offered either. But Gilbert had refused him constantly, and after a while, Alfred had dropped the subject.

Alfred sighed and turned back to his work. Perhaps he should put the FF aside for now and go work on his cons instead. This was proving to be pointless.

He reached for his coffee mug only to discover it was empty. Well that was that. At least there was something he could do right now. Standing up, Alfred stretched a little before heading downstairs.

Alfred was just beginning to pour when the doorbell rang. Alfred frowned as he set down his mug. He checked his watch. 2:07 AM.

The only visitor he would be expecting at this hour was Gilbert, but...

Alfred walked over to the door. It only took a quick glance through the peephole to figure out who it was and Alfred unlatched the chain before unlocking the door and twisting the doorknob.

"I was wondering..." Alfred began when he took in the man in front of him.

Gilbert looked terrible. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. His hair was messy...and not the casual, windswept sort of messy. No, Gilbert looked like Alfred would have once looked just a few years ago if he'd had the chance to glance into a mirror. He looked like a man on the run who had come to the end of the road.

All of this Alfred processed in an instant. Then Alfred's gaze shifted to Gilbert's shoulder.

A kid...a kid, no older than four or five. A toddler. Asleep, for the moment, his small hand latched onto Gilbert's jacket like a lifeline. Alfred's eyes widened at the slumbering blonde.

"You have a..." Alfred's mind seemed to briefly short circuit. A kid? Was that why Gilbert had been missing? Did he just find out he was a father? This kid was a toddler though, there was no way...

No, that couldn't be it. That couldn't be. There was something else, Alfred was almost certain of it. Gilbert wouldn't have brought a kid to Alfred's house in the middle of the night, not if there wasn't something more to it than just an unplanned pregnancy (though, admittedly, that was pretty big news). But no. There was a look in Gilbert's eyes. Alfred almost wanted to call it desperation, but that wasn't quite right. Haunted. That was it. Something else had happened, and it had something to do with the kid in Gilbert's arms and the haunted look in his eyes.

Alfred knew better than to question him there. "Come on in," he said instead, opening the door wider and stepping to the side.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

 If I'm going to hell...
       I won't be going alone...

Gil couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as the door opened and a clearly confused Al stepped out, blue eyes locked the child in his arms. He knew how this looked, showing up with a kid, showing up with a kid at 2 am on Al’s doorstep. He knew all about his reputation and… well it would actually serve him better in the future if people just jumped to that same assumption. But he knew he had to explain himself to Al… explain everything to Al. Because he couldn’t do this alone, the kid, Ren… he needed help and Al was the only one he could trust to help him… And the only one who would let such a strange pair into his house without question.

Gil stepped inside, his body relaxing slightly as the warmth of Al’s apartment seeped into his chilled body. Nico didn’t stir, his hand still gripping Gil’s shirt as though it were his only lifeline. As if he realized just how close to the truth that analogy was. Gil managed a smile as he sat down across from Al, feeling safe for the first time since Ren had first darkened the door of his factory. His body ached, clamoring for sleep, for a respite from the torment his own mind visited upon it.

“This is Nico… well… he is now… it’s a long story.” Gil spared a faint smile for the sleeping child before his reddened eyes found Al, any mirth drained from his gaze. He looked around the room, as though he might find an answer hidden in the walls. “I know you probably have a lot of questions and I want to explain myself, I just… I don’t know how. Where in the hell do I even start?” He laughed, the sound coming out wrong. He licked his lips slowly, trying to build up the courage to say the words aloud. And it was scary, terrifying, because he told Al than it wasn’t just a nightmare anymore, it wasn’t something that he could dismiss as some fantasy, easily waved away in the morning light. Telling Al meant that it was real, that the consequences to come were just as real.

“It started with that detective, Ren…” That was the hardest part, just getting the first words out. After that, the story just tumbled out of him. Gil told him about Ren’s threat, about the look in his eyes as he threatened West’s life, the certainty with which he spoke. “I just… I saw red, Al. I always thought that was an expression, ‘seeing red,’ but I actually, physically saw red. The thought of that monster, touching West, killing him… I couldn’t. I couldn’t let him do it…” The description of the murder was chaotic, but only because Gil could only remember it in spurts. He remembered the rage most of all, and that was the part that shook him up the most. Gil had never felt anything that strongly. Sure he had always been a passionate person, but never had he let his emotions control him so completely. He rested a free hand over his eyes, drained just from that portion of the story. And he hadn’t even gotten to Nico.

“I cleaned everything as best as I could, then buried him out in the woods.” That part stuck out to him vividly. The bite of the wooden shovel handle digging into his hands despite the gloves he wore, how the frozen ground fought him at every step. He had never felt so alone as he did in that instant, and at the same time, he felt Ren’s presence as clearly as if the detective was right there, just out of eyesight. He remembered how it felt, moving the body—as if those darkened eyes would snap forward in an instant, accusing and victorious.

Gil stopped there, needing a break before he got to the child. Al had been quiet, uncharacteristically silent. Whether it was do to shock or consideration for Gil, the German couldn’t be sure. But he was thankful regardless. Amazing the powers words can have on the mind, simply by relaying the story, Gil relived the whole thing. It would have been worse with interruptions. Still, he owed Al more than an explanation. He owed him an apology. Now Al was implicated, dragged into the mess that Gil currently found himself in.

Yes, Al needed an apology. The problem was, Gil seriously doubted that an apology was going to cut it.

word count: 755
tags: Alfred F. Jones , Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt
notes:exposition!

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 969

Tags: Gil, Nico

Notes: It turned out long. I'm sorry orz

Alfred could see Gilbert's shoulders sink in relief when he appeared in the doorway, almost as if Gil had been holding his breath. There was that unease in Alfred again, that sense that something, something was terribly, horrifically wrong.

As Gilbert stepped inside, Alfred had to force himself to stop staring at the kid in Gilbert's arms. He...really wasn't sure what he thought. Almost dumbstruck, really. Gil was a father? That was all he could really focus on. He really couldn't imagine the albino as a father, not really. Gilbert was always ready for action, always on the move, flirting up a storm with anyone vaguely attractive. The man wasn't exactly the type to go domestic and settle down.

Alfred shut the door behind the two of them and the two of them headed into the living room to sit down. Gilbert cradled the boy, balancing him gently against his shoulder. Even in his exhaustion, Gilbert looked at the kid with a softness that Alfred had never really seen in the man. No one could deny that he cared about the kid, though why Gilbert had brought the kid here now Alfred still failed to understand.

Alfred could see Gilbert's hesitation in the way he looked around desperately for some explanation, could hear it in his hollow laughter. Dread filled him and for a moment, Alfred didn't want to know. It had to be bad, or Gilbert wouldn't be here. But Gilbert had come, had come to Alfred for some reason, and so it was Alfred's job to listen.

Gilbert was afraid, afraid of something. Alfred wondered if he was on the run. He certainly knew what that felt like. Had Gil stolen this kid? Grabbed him and run away...but then why had Gilbert been gone for so long? There were a hundred possibilities, none that seemed to quite make sense to Alfred.

Gilbert's words came out slowly, then all at once. Alfred sat there in silence, letting the words wash over him, just staring as Gilbert explained everything.

Ren. Ludwig. Ren. Ren was Alfred's mistake, Alfred's mess. Alfred had never met Ren, had never chanced him upon the street. Ren almost sounded like a fairytale villain to Alfred, one he always heard of and never saw face to face.

He had searched up the man, back when they were trying to get Ludwig back into the Underground safely. A smart smirk laced the Japanese man's face, piercing eyes staring out of the screen. It wasn't too hard to imagine him as the sort of monster Gilbert was painting him to be.

Ren...Ren... There was somewhere else where Alfred had heard...where had he...

Missing.

It had been in the news a little while ago. Alfred had been preoccupied, trying to pull together a con and wipe away his shitty mistakes. Shitty. That had about described how Alfred had felt. How he still felt, in some ways. It had been his fault, after all. Ludwig...a stupid mistake. He should've been better prepared, should've done things by procedure, should've...should've...

Missing. Ren was missing.

"It started with that detective, Ren..."

It came together, one horrific piece at a time. Ren missing...Gil's disappearance...Ludwig... Alfred could feel his throat close up. The answer lay right in front of him, but that couldn't be it. There was some other explanation, some other...

"I just... I saw red, Al."

Alfred felt frozen in his spot as Gilbert recounted the ordeal. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. Killed...Gilbert killed Ren. Killed him. Gone. Poof.

Gilbert's description was blurry and hazed, but Alfred could almost see the scene in front of him. Could see the blood on the ground, the anger in Gil's eyes, and then the realization. Because there had to be one, right? The realization that everything had just suddenly gotten out of hand, that suddenly they were playing an entirely different game...

Gilbert ended his account there. The tiredness in his eyes seemed to have doubled. Perhaps Alfred had been right in describing him as haunted.

How could he not be? How could anyone walk away from something like that, even if it was justified? Alfred couldn't even begin...

He thought of Matthew and he felt sick to his stomach. Matthew...Gilbert...both of them they... What had Matthew thought when he'd first started killing? Had it been the same, like Gil, watching someone break down? Or had it been something different entirely?

Gil...

Alfred didn't know what to say. He didn't. What could he say? 'It's okay, you'll be fine'? No. No, because it wasn't okay and things weren't just going to...they couldn't just be fine. Things never worked out that way. Everything crashed and burned, that much Alfred had figured out. No one ever got a lucky break, not for long at least.

Gilbert was looking towards him for...for something. Words of comfort? Advice? Like Alfred knew how to give advice. He wanted to have a solution for Gil. A way to wipe this all away, sweep it under the rug. But it wouldn't go away. Not like that. They weren't lucky enough for that. They never were.

"You should've called me."

The words came out flatly, the only words that Alfred could even begin to string together. He swallowed. "You should've called me, I could've..."

He faltered. What could he have done? Something. He could've found something. Figured out what to do with...with the situation. Or if Gilbert had been able to hold on, to hold on just a little, Alfred could have gotten Ren kicked out of the police station, could have...could have...

Should have, could have, would have. The three phrases that seemed to govern Alfred's life these days.

Alfred shook his head. "You should've called me," he repeated. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense right now.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

      If I'm going to hell...
      I won't be going alone...

Gil watched as Alfred floundered under the weight of his story. Call? Was that really what Alfred thought should have happened? Did he really believe that Gil could make him an accomplice to something like that? That he’d make Al share the same nightmares that had plagued his sleep, be haunted by the same ghosts? Did he really think so little of him?

“Call you? Al, you idiot. What exactly would calling you do? This way you can still claim ignorance. You’re not tied to the scene. If I take the fall, then it’s just me. You and the Freedom Fighters have no connection to me or to Ren. You’ll be able to keep going, no matter what consequences my mistakes might cause.” He sighed and closed his eyes, his fingers threading through the boy’s hair. Nico’s body rested heavily against him, a burden, one he took on happily, but a burden nonetheless. Gilbert knew that he wouldn’t be able to run from his ghosts forever, and if Nico was caught in the crossfire… “The reason I told you all of this is simple. I’m not after your pity so stop looking at me like that.” He tried a smile and if it didn’t quite match his usual vigour, well… no one could blame him given the circumstances. “I need a favor from you, Alfred. I wouldn’t ask this, and if I’m lucky, I’ll never actually need to collect on it.”

He looked back at Nico, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the boy’s sleeping form. “I went home to Germany, just to escape here for awhile, you know? And maybe… heh… I was stupid and I thought that maybe I could mend some burned bridges. So I went home.” He shook his head. “My parents had another kid after I left for America. Decided to make up for the failures of my brother and myself, I guess. They never even told him we existed.” He should his head, looking so pained. “He had everything he could want, but I’d never seen a child so alone. He was starved for affection, for anyone to see him as a boy, rather than a trophy to be paraded around.” He felt the tears prick his eyes and he grimaced, embarrassed to betray such weakness in front of the other man. “I failed West, and I almost failed again, I ran away and as a result, this kid had no one to stand up for him. I’m just glad I was there for him when I was…”

He struggled with the next part, once again, fighting for words to put the rather strange events to light. “Turns out, Nicolaus was a ‘failure’ too. His powers manifested the day I was going to return to Russia. He’s a mutant. And I couldn’t let my parents throw him into this hateful system, I couldn’t let him go through what West went through, what Fran or Mattie or—“ he stopped there, wincing. He should not have mentioned Matthew to Al. The wound was still too fresh, too new and Gil was not the type of person who wanted to rub salt in that wound. He swallowed and returned back to his story. “So I took him. I convinced my parents not to alert the authorities. I’m going to adopt him, Al. I’m going to give him the very best life, full of people who love him—the life that West never got. But if it goes wrong, if I get taken down for Ren… I need you to make sure he’s safe. That’s all I need, okay? Just make sure my little brother is safe.”

He shook his head, determined to get through this without choking up. “You’re a good guy, Al. I know you’ll help us. Because you’re a good guy. And that’s why I had to talk to you. It has to be you, Alfred. Can you help us?”

word count: 657
tags: Alfred F. Jones , Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt
notes:sorry, a bit rusty here

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 738

Tags: Gil, Nico

Notes: I reply too fast for my own good.

Alfred knew that what Gilbert said was true. The logical portion of him knew. He wasn't stupid; he'd had plenty of experience covering up his own crimes. There was a reason Alfred always worked alone. And though murder was very different from what Alfred did...the same principles applied, didn't they?

Alfred didn't want to know.

Still, if Gilbert had just called him, then maybe, maybe... Alfred could've done something. He had no idea what that could be, but there must've been something. Alfred's head was still swimming with questions. Ren hadn't been found. Alfred kept a close eye on the police, as all people in his profession should. An officer had been reported missing, but other than that, it had been absolute radio silence. Thinking of Gilbert disposing of the body...it made Alfred's stomach twist a little just thinking about it.

For some reason, the word that came to his mind was lucky. Of all words, lucky. Alfred felt sick just thinking of it, but on some sadistic level, it was true. To not be caught after this long, to not even have found the body...that was nothing short of luck.

The man sitting in front of him was so very different from the man Alfred had met through the Freedom Fighters. How the hell they'd gotten here, Alfred hadn't the faintest idea. It hadn't been that long ago, yet everything had changed. He wanted to press rewind. If he could, if he could take everything back, Alfred would. Reverse everything that had taken place. If he hadn't bought Ludwig, if he had never invited Gilbert to see his brother...

No. No, there was no point in regretting the past. Wasn't that what Alfred had always told himself? Hah, the voice in Alfred's head said. See, you always told yourself that. But since when have you listened? The past defines everything. It's made you who you are. Don't regret the past? That's all you do. What a joke.

Except this wasn't about him. This was about Gilbert. The only thing Alfred could do, the only thing Alfred could ever do, was try to make up for his mistakes.

"Stop looking at me like that." Alfred refocused on Gilbert, who attempted a smile, as if trying to comfort Alfred. Alfred. Wasn't he supposed to do the comforting?

The word came up again. Lucky. It was overshadowed though, by Gilbert's other words. A favor? Alfred was indebted to Gilbert, surely the man knew that much. He would do almost anything.

As Alfred listened to Gilbert, he couldn't help but glance at Nico. The boy slept peacefully, oblivious to how quickly his entire world was changing around him. Gilbert's brother...so Alfred's initial assumption had been wrong. Gilbert wasn't a father...at least not in the most obvious sense.

His gaze returned to Gilbert, who seemed to be having trouble keeping it together. I failed. How those words resonated with Alfred. How many times had he repeated the same words to himself? How many nights had he spent, watching the clock tick by with the thought of—

Matthew's name came up just as the thought came into Alfred's head, and he stiffened slightly. The memory of the alley came back to him, Matthew's violet eyes flashing madly. I'll kill you. The scar on Alfred's hand throbbed as he clenched his fist. Gilbert paused, as if realizing his mistake. An implied apology, one Alfred recognized and was partially grateful for, though it did little to quell Alfred's thoughts. Gilbert continued with his story, giving Alfred something to focus instead.

A good guy. What did that even mean? Would a good man even be in this situation? Arthur had once said that Circumstances shape us. Alfred knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this circumstance, this event, would shape the rest of Gilbert's life. He wasn't the same man Alfred had met, no, and he would never be the same.

There was only one thing Alfred could do, really. "Of course." The words came quickly, without an ounce of hesitation. "If it comes to that...I'll do anything to protect Nico. You have my word."

It was all he could do. The least he could do, and all he could do, all in one. Alfred couldn't reverse time, couldn't take back what he had done. He just had to fix it, fix this, as much as he could before it became too late.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,

Into a land of enchantment...

Gilbert Beilschmidt + Alfred F. Jones

850

The baby is awake.

Every day, he listened to his parents’ words. Demands, expectations, certainly not empty threats. He had to be the perfect boy, the perfect child, for the family. Nico never understood why and where his parents got the superior complex, the need to feel better about their child (or fake child, if one must point out). He was not allowed to be himself; he had to play an act, every day. The child didn’t know anything different, so figured all children were expected to do as such, and though it confused him when he went to parks and saw other children ‘misbehaving’ by simply being children, he never figured otherwise. This was why, when Gilbert practically kidnapped him and pulled him out of the life, he was confused. Just as exhausting as it was for the adult, it was for the child, having to adjust to the new life.

He was allowed to ask for toys, say what food he wanted to eat for the day, decide his own snacks and books to read, choose what to wear (up to a certain point, he still hadn’t grabbed the concept of weather just yet), and was even allowed to ask Gilbert questions. It all seemed so easy and releasing, but in reality, it was more stressful than anything. Sure, it was fun, but he just wasn’t used to the system. He didn’t quite understand his boundaries; it was like learning how to live daily again. So, as it’s consequence, Nickolaus was exhausted. Exhausted to the point that, when Gilbert put him down for that night, he easily knocked out and drifted to dreamland. Even when the elder brother swaddled the younger with blankets and a heavy coat, the boy didn’t stir, only gripping tight onto the closest fabric to his hand.

The day’s scene was still crystal clear in the boy’s head. The way his mother pushed him away with what seemed like both disgust and fear in her eyes, the way his father picked up the phone immediately, the way his new brother lifted him off the floor instantly and spoke harshly and quickly… Though at the moment he blanked out, it all seemed to store itself in the depth of his memory. To the point that, when he slept, it played on repeat, like a movie that just never ended.

On the first few nights, Nickolaus found himself waking up with a jolt, occasionally panting, trying to catch the breath that caught in his throat at the very scene. Then it slowly eased down to him simply waking up with whimpers and tears in his eyes… Which was his current stage.

~
“…M-Mutti…? Vatti…?” He reached out, but his arms were blocked. He tried to call out louder, but no matter how loud he called, the words never reached the two. He tried to walk to them, but his legs were frozen. And the pair of faces he grew up with began to slowly move away, the eyes that used to look at him with pride darkening to disgust and anger. Nickolaus tried calling out again, but the pair just turned and walked away, until they soon faded to nothing. “M… Mu…” The voice choked again, and Nickolaus bit his lower lip. He looked around, but there was nothing but white, not a single shadow. “Va...” Tears filled his eyes, and he sniffled, soon just sitting in the spot alone, wailing like the child he was. “Mutti…! Vatti…!!”
~

Flinching and grasping tighter onto Gilbert, Nickolaus gave a small whimper and buried his face against his brother’s shoulder. It took him several unconscious seconds to readjust himself to the real world, and once done so, he sniffled and used his brother’s shoulder to rub the tears in his eyes away. He turned his head, still leaning against his brother, taking in the new surroundings, his mind still hazy. “Mutti…?” He whispered, before blinking slowly and using his free hand to wipe his eyes, and push against his brother’s chest to pull himself away from Gilbert a bit, his other hand still tightly grasping him to make sure he wouldn’t be able to leave. “…?” 

Frowning, the boy turned his head again to finally spot the other man in the room. He sniffled again, still recovering from his reoccurring nightmare, before widening his eyes slightly and using the once free hand to grasp on Gilbert as well, clinging tightly to him.

No way.

He was not going to go through having another leave him again. Already picking up on the fact he was in a stranger’s house, he figured, with the dream still fresh in his mind, that Gilbert was going to leave him as well, now with this stranger. Nickolaus bit his lower lip and pressed himself against his brother, deciding he rather not speak, seeing that was the reason his parents abandoned him as well.

Because he spoke. Because he had to be a bad boy and speak out of turn, that was why he turned into… a monster… And he was not going to make that mistake again.

by worldie for puchi

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

      If I'm going to hell...
      I won't be going alone...

Gilbert relaxed, a great burst of air leaving his lungs at the promise Al made. He had no intention of having to make good on that favor, but there was no denying that he was walking a risky tightrope, and if he slipped, he was going to lose everything. Gilbert had known that from the beginning, had prepared for that. What happened with Ren was a complication but it only added to the reality that Gil had been all too aware of from the first time he set foot in Archadia.

Nico was another story. He hadn’t asked for any of this, he had no idea what was at stake. He had already lost so much, but Gil was not going to risk him losing his freedom on top of everything else. Al was a professional; he knew how to get things done, to sneak people in and out of places, how to operate outside of the law. If nothing else, he would know what to do if the worst should happen.

“Thanks man… I owe you one.” Gil stopped and chuckled darkly. “Actually. I owe you everything, Al.” He smiled, and this one actually looked like a smile, rather than a cheap facsimile of one. In such a short period of time, they’d come so far, done so much. And despite what Al seemed to think, Gil really didn’t blame him for what had happened. Sure the argument could be made that it was Al’s actions that started the dominos. But he had reunited Gil with his little brother, he gave Gil the catharsis that had helped the German, move forward. And… Gil needed him. There was no doubt. Al kept Gil grounded. And now Al was going to keep Nico safe.

Speaking of Nico,... Gil frowned, hearing the boy whimper, his little fingers clenching at Gil’s shirt. He raised a hand to Al to keep him quiet as his attention shifted to the little blonde. His arms wrapped around the boy comfortingly. Since he’d first left Germany with the little one in his care, Nico had insisted on staying by his side, even in sleep. And Gil, being all too familiar with the fear brought on by abandonment, couldn’t bear to say no to boy’s request to sleep with Gil. Gil didn’t mind it, it wasn’t like he was sleeping much anyway, so if his presence was enough to comfort the boy, he certainly could learn to work with Nico asleep in his lap. The nightmares? Well Gil certainly understood those too.

“Nico?” He ran his hand through that soft blonde hair. He tilted the boy’s head up gently, so that his azure eyes met up with Gil’s scarlet gaze. “You’re okay, Nico,” he murmured softly. “You’re safe, okay?” He smiled and continued stroking Nico’s hair tenderly until the boy calmed down. It was only then that he looked up to Alfred and smiled faintly.

“Nico. I’d like you to meet a very good friend of mine.” He kissed the top of Nico’s head before turning him in his lap to face the American. “This is Al, Nico. You can trust him. I promise.” He kept his arms around Nico loosely, more as a reminder that Nico was still safe. If he wanted to stay perched on Gil’s lap, that was fine. But if he wanted to venture and meet this new person, Gil wanted him to have the option. His eyes, though still ringed with exhaustion was warmer than they had been all night as he looked to his friend.

“Alfred, I’d like you to meet Nickolaus Fredrich Beilschmidt.” He said with the obvious pride of a new parent. “Isn’t he perfect?”

word count: 615
tags: Alfred F. Jones , Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt
notes: Yup, Gil's a sap, also so my computer's being a jerk so no color coded dialogue. Sorry

by worldie for kat

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 726

Tags: Gil and Nico

Notes: You know when you're writing and you go "shit you're gay"

Alfred had never thought of Gilbert as a cynical man, but a lot had changed since Alfred had seen him last. And perhaps Alfred did not know Gilbert very well at all. They weren't even friends, really. They'd never spent time with each other outside of work and the FF. Yet...acquaintances wasn't quite the right word either. They saw each other far too often for that. Maybe partners. Colleagues, working together towards a singular goal.

Hearing him speak now though, Alfred remembered how much about Gilbert he didn't know. Beyond Ludwig and what Gilbert had just told Alfred now, Alfred knew very little about Gilbert's personal life. It was almost strange, considering that Gilbert was one of the people that Alfred talked to the most. Alfred really was isolated. And perhaps that thought was sad, but it was what Alfred had chosen. He'd chosen to be alone, to keep people shut out. That was the best that Alfred could do for them, to keep them at arm's length for their own safety. Alfred treaded a thin line with his job, and he'd seen first hand the amount of vulnerability that came with being close to others.

...and he had just agreed, that if worst came to worst, he would raise a child. A child. Alfred almost wanted to laugh. Alfred wasn't equipped to raise a child. He was just twenty, but more than that. He didn't know how to raise a kid, or what to feed them. How would he work and raise a kid? He certainly couldn't bring the boy on cons. And what about the FF? He'd have to send Nico away, somewhere safe, maybe Canada, Canada tended to be progressive, he could contact someone there, see if they could take Nico, make plans...

Alfred knew he was panicking, hyperventilating a little, as the weight of what he'd just agreed to really hit him. It wasn't regret, no. Alfred couldn't have made any other decision. Not with what he owed Gilbert, and not with the fact that this was a boy's life on the line. Gilbert's brother. Alfred's heart pained at the thought of his own brother. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Matthew. And Alfred would make sure that Nico would be safe. He refused to accept failure as an outcome. He hadn't been able to save Matthew, but if push came to shove, Alfred would save Nico.

Speaking of which...the toddler was slowly blinking awake. The boy clutched onto Gilbert's shirt, fists clenching in the fabric. Kids were so small, especially now, seeing Gilbert wrap his arms around Nico and embrace him. It was weird, like Gilbert was really a father. He could be one, Alfred mused. Gilbert was wild and reckless and passionate, but when it came down to it, he was dedicated, and loyal to a fault. Alfred saw his seriousness in the way he worked, the dedication and time he put into every detail. He saw it now, in the way Gilbert smiled at Nico. A really genuine smile. Not the smirk he carried with him when he flirted or played things off as the businessman. Not the mask he tried to put on for Alfred just a few minutes ago, pretending to be okay. He was not okay, no one could be okay, and Alfred could see through that. But this was a real smile, one that came from genuine love and adoration.

He could make a good father, and to Nico, Alfred was certain, that was the role he would play.

Alfred mentally promised himself that he'd keep it that way. Alfred would write up all his plans, to keep Nico safe, to send him away if necessary, but it would never come to fruition. The best place for Nico, clearly, was with Gil, and Alfred would make sure that stayed true.

Gil's voice was bursting with pride as he spoke, and Alfred felt himself smile too at the boy. "Hi Nico," he said softly. "I'm Alfred. S'nice to meet you."

He didn't want to say much more than that, didn't want to overwhelm the boy, who was likely exhausted and confused. But he smiled at him again and straightened, giving the boy a little time to collect himself. Alfred looked at Gilbert with a half-smile, the corner of his mouth lifting up slightly. "He's amazing."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Nickolaus F. Beilschmidt]

Come little children, I'll take thee away,

Into a land of enchantment...

Gilbert Beilschmidt + Alfred F. Jones

569

The soft hushing noises calmed Nickolaus’ panicked mind momentarily, and he warily glanced up to Gilbert, his blue eyes still hazy from the sleep he was just awoken from. He gave a soft whimper of protest when he was made to turn around on the man’s lap however, to face the stranger completely, to which he obviously was not comfortable with one bit. The toddler, with a frown glued to his face, didn’t think twice to attempt to turn himself back around to face Gilbert once again. With one hand still holding tight onto his brother’s shirt like a life line, the child gave hesitant glances to Alfred once he was able to turn himself around completely, looking over his shoulder to the blond. No response was given back when he was greeted by the stranger, only a small flinch and a hard tug on Gilbert’s shirt to show his obvious discomfort.

Why were they here in the first place…? Last he remembered, Gilbert read him a story and they cuddled against one another in a large bed (or at least, large for Nickolaus alone), and… Then he assumed he fell asleep not too long after. Now he was suddenly here, in this different house with a stranger looking at him with sky-blue eyes, ones he had difficulty looking back into. Sure Gilbert gave him the freedom to go and check out this man if he so wished, and he doubted his brother would suddenly change his mind and grasp onto him if he tried to slide off his lap and explore, but Nickolaus himself was still, dare to say it, terrified.

Not in a sense he would begin screaming cry anytime soon, but the combination of being both nervous and slightly scared made him quiver in his brother’s hold. He heard Alfred call him ‘amazing’, and at first wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it. Amazing? How? Why? At what?

Deciding he was in no mood for questions, either, Nickolaus simply used both hands to grasp at Gilbert now, pulling extra hard on the shirt as if to leave stretches of the material at just the certain small holds. He buried his face in between the two grasps and gave a small sniffle, followed by another soft whimper. The extra jacket and blankets made it slightly harder for him to move as much as he wished to anyway, not that he really wanted to do much. Added onto that, he was also grumpy from just being awoken… For whatever reason. Why now?

Oh, right. The dream… Peeking up to Gilbert once more, the boy let out a small breath before he finally gulped hesitantly. He then gave one more awkward glance to Alfred, before quickly turning back to Gilbert, shifting himself to get more comfortable with himself saddling his brother’s lap.

“…Nein…” He simply muttered, fear flashing in his hues momentarily, putting the pieces together in the wrong way. Was… Gilbert going to leave him with this man…? But he said he was going to stay with him…! Gathering his voice to let out a desperate string of pleas, Nickolaus pushed back his fear for the few seconds to let his voice be heard… Somewhat above the volume of a whisper. “…B-Bwuder… I wanna stay, with bwuder… An… Not that one…” He muttered shakily, looking to Alfred as he spoke, then back once more to his brother.

by worldie for puchi