Metal Birds

Chapter 32: Concern and Indifference

London, England and Berlin, Germany, September 14th 1940

That night left Arthur collapsed on the floor again. As the sirens rang out in a shrill warning once more, gasping for air that wouldn't reach his lungs. Teresa found him cast on his side, unable to move as the sirens called out desperately for the stragglers to make their ways to shelter.

She managed to grab his arm, shouting for someone's help as she attempted to get him upright. The inability to move caused fear to course through his body, and he wanted very badly to scream, or do something to indicate his panic; but he couldn't. Marie was the one to come to her aid, pulling him upwards by his other arm as he found himself unable to respond, paling quickly. This time, his head began to throb as a ringing met his ears, and he felt like dead weight. He could see the defensive balloons hovering overhead as the cold of the outside night met his face. Orange and gold flashing across the skies, met with the white arcing emptiness of the searchlights brushing eagerly at the bellies of the German planes so far overhead. They were moving quickly around the street for the underground train station.

His vision grew blurry as he gasped and attempted to breathe, unaware just how terrifying his struggle was to the two women. They met Elizabeth down at the bottom of the stairs, and he found himself attempting to walk forward as they stumbled over suitcases and knapsacks that had been cast nearby the occupants of the underground shelter.

As he slumped down, he finally regained the ability to move. Arthur quickly moved to draw his wings close and hunch forward as his hand went to his chest again, feeling the burning sensation. It felt no different than last time, like a spike had been driven into his chest; and it was still no less terrifying.

He could hear the worried voices of those around him, asking if he was alright, questioning what was happening, if he was having a heart attack or a seizure; and it took all of him not to allow a scream to rip from his throat.

The Angel of Britain, it seemed to them, was dying.

Maybe. Maybe he was, and he was sure that this was what it felt like. From the eyes of an old man to a young girl, the scene in itself was scary. Arthur was aware that they only hovered over him because he was a story that meant a little bit to them.

Eventually, he felt someone's hands around his shoulders, and he looked up to see Marie. She sat there on her knees, teary eyed out of the pure fear for him; other faces peering in and twisted with their own versions of fear or aversion or disbelief.

He was wordless.

It was in this moment that a sudden awareness overcame him. They cared. They cared about him, all of them, every pair of eyes was glued to his form, and it hurt. Because he didn't want them to care. He wasn't used to them caring. But they cared, they cared so much that his pain scared them.

Why wouldn't it? He was everything they were, after all. Every British man and woman, every square centimeter of British land, every hope, every dream -though he wasn't aware of it all- was what he was. And that was why he meant so much to them. That was why they cared.

Arthur made no move, continuing to cling onto the burning in his chest as Marie shifted forward and hugged him, clearly shaking. The sounds of bombs and collapsing buildings and falling planes could be heard clearly overhead, and with each shudder of the ground Arthur felt his pain grow.

Slack jawed and bewildered, Arthur closed his eyes and cried silently, wings falling to the floor, as the hands of the people came to rest on his shoulders in the solemn assurance that, for his sake, they would not give up.

oOoOo

Berlin was hell to her. A tolerable hell, but still hell.