Lured into the Danger

Deux

Gilbert was sipping tea with the family, who had finally settled down, when Matthew appeared.
He was dishevelled and worn out, hair messy and tangled, clothes hanging off his skinny body. Gilbert wanted to hug him, to tell him it was okay, but Francis was here and he didn't want to get in trouble.
"Good morning, Matthieu." Francis greeted without looking up from his cup. He imagined that Francis couldn't bare to see him this way.
"Uncle Mattie, come play with us!" Michelle begged, hitting him softly with her rubber swordfish. Matthew blinked at her dumbly.
"Uncle Mattie isn't feeling well." Arthur told his daughter. Michelle pouted and ran off to find Peter.
Matthew shuffled into the kitchen. They could hear the sounds of the fridge opening and the Canadian rummaging around.
"He's getting his own food today." Arthur stated. "That's a step in the right direction."
"What do I need to know if I'm going to take care of him?" Gilbert asked.
"He mostly sleeps in the day and, well, I don't know what he does at night but he keeps his lights on until dawn." Francis explained. "Try to get him to take a shower every once in a while, but make sure you hide the razors. He won't brush his hair afterward, so you'll have to do that. He sits still for it, so you won't have trouble with that."
"Got it."
"Your goal right now is to get him back on his meds. He's actually pretty functional when he's on them, but he still doesn't talk."
"Get him to take his Meds? That sounds doable."
"We'll see..." Arthur sighed, taking another sip of his tea.
Matthew returned with an armload of snacks, blinking at his family in confusion.
"What's wrong, Matthieu?" Francis asked, voice filled to the brim with a sugary sound.
Matthew blinked again, looking at the teacups and then at Gilbert.
"We have guests. You can join us if you want."
He shook his head, looking pointedly at the snacks in his arms. He shrugged and walked out of the room.
"Wow. He really can't talk, can he?"
"I don't think he's able to. I think something happened in his brain when he was hit." Arthur explained.
"So he won't ever talk again?"
"We don't know that." Francis insisted. "We don't know if that's what it is. It might just be trauma."
"Who knows."
"We tried to get him to speak with a therapist and that's what they told us."
"They only saw him for an hour and he didn't talk at all."
"So? Therapists know what they're doing."
"This one had an office in a back alley and their phone number lead to a pay phone outside."
"That doesn't mean they weren't good at their job!"
"Uh...I think it does, Francis."
"Maybe they just fell on hard times."
"I'll show you hard times."
"Oh, it's on."
"Uhm..." Gilbert wasn't sure what was happening and he was afraid to find out.
"Sorry." Arthur apologized. "Matthew is in the bedroom to the right of the stairs. You can visit with him while we deal with this."
"Thank you." Gilbert nodded, standing from his spot.
It was time to get to work.