Zaltana returned, placing down the tray. On it was a pot of about a liter of chicken broth, with a multitude of different protein and energy powders. She left immediately.
Ivan sat beside him, watching as he drank his food. Alfred didn't seem to care that he was there, watching him. He rarely gave any indication that he realized Ivan was there. Even then, it was tiny. You would have to know him well to notice it.
Maikoh came in, clad in a nightgown. Alfred looked at where she would be standing. She looked at him, before breaking down into tears.
"Brother," she breathed out. He continued to drink his broth.
"Sister," he said. He was offhanded about it. Like he knew he was supposed to reply something adjacent to it, but he wasn't exactly sure why, or who this person was. But they called him brother. That meant a lot.
"Are you okay?" she asked. She stepped to his side, watching his white eyes go to her.
"As okay as I can be," he replied. He stared down at his lap, even if he couldn't see. One hand fell from his cup, and he placed it on the bed. Ivan ran his thumb over the knuckles, giving him a warning that he was beside him.
"I'm going to try to help you," she laid a hand on his collarbone, "can you face me?"
He shifted accordingly. They both were surprised at his strength. Maybe his injury was only on his skin. Ivan knew it was silly to think. He was probably doing this because he didn't know who he was near and if they were going to hurt him or not.
She began to whisper. It was gibberish, not a spell. Only allowed her to focus on what she needed to do. Her hands glowed white.
Cells went through mitosis, splitting rapidly as if they were cancerous. Energy burst through the wounds- blood quickly unclotted, beginning to flow through veins as they once had. Nerves were completed, relieving the pain. His skin dipped rapidly from red to white and green.
Ivan frowned, seeing the green-brown stripes. It meant he was a lot sicker than he was letting on.
He would probably feel better if he was bathed, but the water might burst the scabs, and Samuel hadn't been in to stitch yet.
Across his chest, he'd returned to himself. Maikoh pulled herself away, panting. There was rustling.
"Sorry," Samuel said, "I think you were distracted."
He pulled a stethoscope from his pack, walking over. Alfred just stared at the ground. There was no wonder at the fact he had been healed. Nothing showed on his face.
Samuel placed the instrument over his lungs. He listened, before smiling and nodding. Only then did he notice that Alfred was blind. Then his face dropped.
"This might be painful, sir," he said, softly. He placed it over the heart, listening to it beat. The organ was straining, but fine.
"I will want to do a blood test soon," the doctor said, and Maikoh nodded. She had gained her breath again. They both looked at Ivan, but he wasn't paying them any mind, getting Alfred back into a more comfortable position.
"Any stitches?" he asked. Samuel did him a one over, paying more attention to his back and arms.
"Mostly burns," Samuel replied, "unless you've been lashed or stabbed?"
"Not in a while," Alfred said, "has my neck and chest healed enough?"
"Yes," he replied, looking at his neck more closely before he gasped, "oh... oh no... that's..."
"What?" Ivan said, before paying more attention to his neck. Alfred laughed, the same smoker's cough laugh. There was a puncture wound in his neck, as if he'd been stabbed.
"Shot," he stopped laughing, and started coughing. The wound didn't bleed. Samuel reached out to touch it and Alfred flinched, before moving his head back.
"There's a hole in your neck," he said, amazed, "all the way though."
"Stop acting like that's cool!" Maikoh exclaimed, pushing him to the side. She placed her fingers on the wound.
"Does it hurt?"
"Well, it sure as hell doesn't tickle."
"How were you able to swallow?" Ivan asked. Maikoh began chanting again. Her hand never lit up. He ignored her.
"Healed my esophagus, jugular, and the area around the hole first. Didn't have enough energy to heal the whole thing," he smiled, "didn't go through bone so I didn't have to worry about that. Sister, you can stop that."
"Are you sure?" she said. She was tired.
"Yes," he smiled, "I'll live, I promise."
"Is there anything you need, sir? You can drink and eat all right, and your breathing and heart rate is fine. Is there anything else?"
"No," he smiled, "thank you."
They each nodded, leaving on their own time. On the horizon, the sun was beginning to rise.
"Who the hell were they?" he asked, looking at Ivan.
"Samuel is your head doctor. He's immortal, and has been at your side for almost two-hundred years. Maikoh is your sister. She's known you since you were born."
"Yes... Maikoh. I know her," he said. It seemed to be hard for him to get his memories back without his sight. That didn't really surprise Ivan, though. That was how people worked. That was how many remembered, "she's the white werewolf. Tala's her twin."
"Yes," Ivan smiled.
"And Samuel... is he a huge scaredy-cat?"
"Yes," Ivan smiled. Alfred returned it.
"Too bad I have no idea who you are," he said. His palm reached up to brush his cheek.
"Doesn't it hurt to move?"
"Yes," Alfred admitted, "but I want to move. I'm finally out of that place and I don't want to spend my time bedridden."
"Yes, dorogoy," Ivan rolled his eyes, "but you have eternity to run around fields. Now, you are injured, and you must rest."
"Can I at least bathe, or something?" he asked, pulling his hand back.
"It will have to be in cold water."
"That's fine, just... something."
Ivan nodded, standing up. Alfred's eyes followed him to the bathroom, even though he would only be going off his steps. He started the tub, throwing some soap in it so it would sud. He walked back into the bedroom, scooping up the other in his arms.
He dragged the IV along with him, walking into the bathroom.
"Would I mind if you saw me naked?" he asked as Ivan put him on the rim of the tub, taking off the pants he wore.
"Um..." there was a pause, "I don't think so."
"God, it sounds like our relationship is complicated."
"You have no idea," Ivan replied, pulling them off. He tossed the pants in the trash, as they were coated in so much blood and residue of poisonous gas they were a biohazard.
He lowered him into the tub, kneeling down beside him. His face was flushed red, but he didn't give any acknowledgement to it. Because that meant that he wouldn't notice.
"Feeling a little hot there," Alfred said, the back of his hand resting against his cheek, "I'm surprised you still find me pretty covered in burns. Into some pretty sick BDSM shit, ain't ya?"
"Uh... no?" he thought back, "Kinda? But not burning."
"So honest," Alfred smiled, before sinking further into the water. It was starting to be tinged pink.
"You like honesty,"
Alfred ran his fingers through his hair.
"You said moving hurt,"
"I know,"
"Why do you keep moving then?"
"I can't see, so I just want to make sure I'm not being bullshitted," Alfred looked to the side, "I still haven't decided if this was a dream."
"It's not," Ivan replied. He ran his hand along the others cheek, and Alfred leaned into it, smiling. He wondered for a moment how much it hurt. Did he really want contact that much that he was willing to put himself through pain?
"How can I be sure?"
Ivan pinched him, and he yelped, before smacking his arm. There was laughter from both of them, before Ivan leaned over to kiss his temple. Alfred went silent.
"Was... that okay?"
"It was fine," he replied, "I don't think I would have minded you doing it, Ivan. You said it yourself, you were special to me."
Ivan smiled, petting his cheek. Alfred leaned into him, resting his head against his chest. He seemed to start dozing.
He rested him back against the tub, grabbing the soap and a sponge.
"This might hurt a little, I'm sorry," Ivan warned. Alfred nodded, feeling the sponge begin to wash his arm. The blood began to wash off, dying the water a deeper shade of red.
He didn't even feel it. He wondered if he should- probably. It had all faded into numbness.
He willed for his eyesight- he wanted to be able to see. Everything was just bright black. It was nerve wracking. His other senses were always on high alert, and that was tiring. He only really felt like he could relax when he felt Ivan touch him.
For someone who seemed to be a big guy, he sure was gentle. He tried his best not to touch any wounds, even though most of his skin was covered in them.
And that kiss. It lit memories into him like a fire. Something spread through his body like electricity in water. It was shocking, truly. He wondered what it was. Calmness? Adoration? Comfort? Maybe one of those. Maybe it was something that didn't have a name.
His head moved to where he knew Ivan was. God, he wanted to see. If he could see, then he could remember. All he wanted was to remember. He leaned forward. Ivan paused his cleaning, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek. The little bit of contact was tingling, somewhere between pain and pleasure.
He shut his eyes. The bright black turned into dark black.
"Ivan," the name rolled off his tongue, as if he had said it a lot in the past, "if you could, would you kiss me?"
"Would you want me too?"
"I think I would," he giggled, coughing. He needed more water in his system. He heard Ivan chuckle, feeling his other hand go to his other cheek. The tingling remained- he started to feel it all the way down his spine to his tailbone. He leaned further forward.
A small peck was placed on his lips, and he hummed. His memories betrayed him. It was comforting with nothing to back it up. He leaned back and let Ivan continue cleaning him.
The bloody water was drained. Ivan grabbed a pair of sweatpants and helped him get them on, before bringing him back to the bed.
"Are you going to sleep?" Ivan asked. Alfred shrugged.
"Maybe,"
"Do you want to sleep?"
"It feels like all I've been doing for the last few months is sleeping," his eyes scrunched, and he sneezed, "I really, really want to do something. That would be nice."
Ivan smiled, "You can barely walk by yourself for more than a few steps. You need to get your strength back, first."
"Damn," he rolled his eyes, "wish I could read or something."
Ivan nodded, sitting down beside him. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He made sure not to put too much weight on him. He didn't want an injury to burst.
There was a knock on the door. Alfred's head went to it, as Ivan stood. First, he pulled away the curtains from around the bed, before opening the door.
Germany stood there, irritated.
"I need to ask him a few questions," he said, about to walk past him. Ivan cut him off with his arm. Germany glanced up to him.
"You can wait, I know you can," Russia smiled, "now, go back to consoling your boyfriend, or, fuck off to your own house."
"I could say the same to you," Germany replied, "but wait, everyone you loved left."
Russia frowned, "Leave."
"No."
"That wasn't a question," Russia stated, pushing him. Germany stumbled back a few steps, before frowning.
"I am required to ask questions."
"That was a rule that you made up to give yourself more power over Europe, and being as it is it doesn't apply to any continent besides Europe."
Germany's frown depended, "This is important. We need to know what exactly happened to him so we can expect what happened to the others."
"Then go bother Zaltana's pet project," Russia went through the door, beginning to close it, "and make yourself scarce."
"Are you trying to threaten me?"
He slammed the door. Alfred looked over at him curiously, and he sat down beside him.
"Who was that?"
"Germany," Ivan replied, "he wants to ask you a few questions about your treatment in the gas chamber. I told him to fuck off."
Alfred was quiet.
"Does he pry?"
"Yes," Ivan said, "way too much."
There were a few more sets of knocking, but they were ignored. Alfred began to sleep, and Ivan didn't think anything of going to sleep himself- he'd just pulled an all-nighter, something he didn't usually do if he could help it.
A few hours later, the door burst open. Both of them jumped up, Ivan grabbing the gun from the bedside and aiming it. Illinois smiled, his hands up. California snickered from behind him.
"Sorry dad, didn't mean to scare ya'," he said, "just want to see my dear mother."
"Would that be me?" Alfred asked, and Ivan told him yes, "Well then, come here darlings."
"Oh... mama," California said, her eyebrows furrowing, "are... are you okay?"
"I know it looks bad..." he seemed to grasp for a name but couldn't figure one out, "but I'll be fine. I've probably been through worse."
He waved a hand to the side, as if he was brushing his own misery and pain to the side and going in with a newer outlook.
"How are you, darlings?" Alfred asked, "And please, tell me your names. I can't see at the moment."
"Can't see?" Illinois asked. He stepped a little closer, narrowing his eyes, "Oh... hi. I'm Illinois."
"And you?" He looked at where California was standing.
"California," she replied. She seemed hurt, staring at the ground. Nicanora strode into the room, her feet quiet. She whispered to the two for a moment, beckoning them to leave their mother be.
"Hello, you two," he said.
"Well... um... bye," Illinois said, "just wanted to make sure you were alive."
Alfred smiled, "Yes, dolls. I'm alive. I'll be better soon."
Illinois nodded, even though he knew Alfred couldn't see it. He walked forward and hugged him gently, making sure not to put pressure on any injuries, before he walked out.
"Nicanora wants to speak to you," Illinois said, walking out of the room. California was quick behind him, passing a pained look back. Alfred nodded, slowly. Nicanora stomped her foot, and his head swiveled to where she was standing.
"Are you well, sir?" she asked. He nodded, "Do you have any orders for the household? Anything special you want done?"
"Not until I know everything that happened," he said, "enlighten me. I want to know what happened between me being in this very room and me in a gas chamber."
The two glanced between themselves. The Cuban crossed her arms over her chest.
"As you wish," she said. She told him everything she knew, and Ivan added everything he knew. Both needed Zaltana to finish the story, but according to Nicanora she was wallowing in grief in the comfort of her own home. Alfred asked for her.
"As you wish," Nicanora looked out the open door, before slipping through it. She closed it behind her.
"What do you know about Nicanora?" Alfred asked, and Ivan frowned.
"Nothing. She was your second in command, the one who did your papers and organized, but I never met her," Ivan replied, "when I asked Ziracuny to describe her she just told me that she was a bitch that shouldn't be crossed."
Alfred hummed, "Interesting. I remember her well. Just not anything else."
Ivan nodded, his eyebrows furrowing.