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Connected	By : chaseaime Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1775 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not claim the rights to, nor make any earnings from, Axis Powers Hetalia or its characters

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Restless shifting alongside the constant ticking of an old grandmother clock against his wall to his left was all to be heard. The screen in front of him didn't really bring anything to his eyes, the man staring unblinkingly forward, and finally a blink came. He turned to face the old clock, watched it for a few beats, and shut his eyes to better listen. It was smooth and steady, like a strong heartbeat, and he felt comfort in it. Yet why did he need comfort? He was a detective. Strong and hard working he had traveled to this land and made something of himself. Why was this case so troublesome? Was it the age of the boy? Was it how quickly he fell from grace? And now here they were, a body in the morgue, one missing, and a suspect in a cell who refused to speak.

He needed to walk around. Get a feel of the world again. It hurt to walk as his feet had gone numb. Ivan winced and went to the break room, fetching himself some coffee, and wondered what he'd do. Well the mortician was out of his way so why not visit the stiff? He trod along the hall and went down into the basement of the building. Thank God Parson wasn't in here. The man hovered and smelled of his mother. As a mortician, Ivan wondered if this was a good smell to come from him, and often tried to avoid him. It was just plain disgusting. The filing cabinet had fresh files so he went pilfering through until he found the case code. File out he leaned back in the chair and intentionally placed his feet on the desk.

"Arthur Kirkland. WM. 5'9". BG. Twenty three. Cause of death multiple stab wounds. Oh really?"

Ivan wandered over to the wall of bodies and began to pull drawer after drawer. He slammed one shut a bit faster than he meant to. Burn victim. Ugh. Ah, there it was. The big toe had the label and he gladly pulled the sheet back. The chart in his hand made it easier to know what he was looking for.

The chart had images of the male form, front and back, and lines had been drawn to show the location of injuries.

"Two wounds deep in the thoracic region inferior to the collar bone. Only two inches apart. One to the cervical region left side. Another to the femoral. Three to the dorsal side ranging from the thoracic to the lumbar. This seems too random."

He looked down at the young man and felt loathing. This Kirkland fellow had been on their watch for some time. An informant had mentioned how many human traffickers were procuring orders from the area. Kirkland had been a prime suspect for this so no one was really upset about the loss. Yet murder was murder. The anterior wounds made sense to Ivan. Two sudden stabs to the chest and another desperate try at the neck. The three to the back and one thigh were just additions likely after death. They hadn't tried to clot like the others. Why go through so much trouble?

He covered the body again and returned the chart. Slamming the drawers closed he went back up stairs. To the holding cell now. With how late it was would the boy be awake? What were the chances he'd even say anything? Doctors had said it was similar to shock or post traumatic stress disorder. He had clammed to defend himself. That was not what they needed. The court surely wouldn't accept it as a valid excuse for murder. There was the cell. He stood outside it and set his coffee inside past the bars and stepped back. Alfred had been known to throw things. He was awake. Ivan could see the glint off his eyes from the emergency lights.

"Sorry to visit so late, Alfred. I was hoping we could talk for a while. By we I mean me running my mouth." Ivan tried to joke and took a folding chair from against the wall. Unfolding it he straddled the seat. Alfred had moved.

The boy sipped at the warm coffee and shut his eyes. Ivan felt himself smile despite his desperate attempt to not. It was good to see him calm and almost happy.

"I went to see your friend Kirkland downstairs. Cut him up nicely. I think he looks better this way, but whoever did him in could have at least trimmed his eyebrows."

Alfred had shot a dark expression to him from where he sat on the floor at the mention of Kirkland. Ivan was fairly certain the boy killed Kirkland, but he wanted it to be in self defense. Alfred would have been a prime candidate for trafficking. Foreigners loved the thicker American as the thin ones tended to be too frail for travel.

"Alfred. Why does he have all these?"

Several beats of silence.

"Alfred?"

"Where's my brother?"

Ivan stood suddenly. Alfred's voice was soft and timid, but very broken. The coffee must be helping, but still so sore. He had spoken finally! Finally!

"He went home. It's late at night and he came straight from Ontario to help you. He'll be here tomorrow, though. I'll let him visit you."

Alfred studied Ivan for a long time. He didn't understand why this man was always so nice to him. The others were always angry. They hated his silence.

"Okay. I can wait."

"But for how long? Alfred, we have to build a case and right now you're the lead suspect. I have to get info from you if I'm to help you out. I don't want you to go to prison for this." And it was true. He didn't want a child to go to prison for something he possibly didn't do.

Again Alfred was quiet. Ivan settled himself back into the chair and hoped he hadn't dried Alfred out already.

"You don't have to help me, Ivan. I did it."

"With what?"

"A knife of course. You stupid or something?"

"What kind of knife, Alfred?" Ivan watched as Alfred scowled. He obviously didn't like questions.

"A sculpting knife."

Ivan felt his heart pound. There was the truth of it. That right there.

"You didn't do it."

"What?"

"You didn't kill Arthur Kirkland."

"I just confessed to stabbing him! I did it!"

"A sculpting knife, Alfred? That wound was almost three inches deep! Those knives barely reach two! Who killed him Alfred? It wasn't you, so let me help you! Who did!"

Alfred was quiet. The conversation had come to an abrupt end.

Author's note: Ivan makes notations earlier in this which I'll define for you. WM- white male. BG- Blonde hair green eyes. Thoracic- Chest area. Inferior- Below. Cervical- Neck. Femoral- Thigh. Dorsal- Backside. Lumbar- Lower back.

That should be all the notation in regards to this. Look forward to seeing you in the next sequence! Please feel free to review!
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