Diclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, only the OC and the plot.

Paris, France

1346

There was a blond haired man by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, who was walking down the streets watching the sick and dying people. It was a sickness that started to spread very quickly through his country, and what he had heard, the other countries as well. Francis thought that maybe they had angered God. Was this their punishment? To watch their people suffer as they slowly fade with the spread of this black disease? It filled his eyes with tears and pricked pins into his hearts as he watched the little children fall.

"Monsieur, please my daughter's chest hurts all day, isn't there anything that can help the pain?" a merchant was begging a sunny yellow haired man who was holding the girl. The man gave the girl back to her father and held up a finger, before disappearing into a store.

"I have just the thing. This is herbs that need to be heated in water for tea. It should alleviate the pain to a dull ache. I can't make it go away unfortunately monsieur," the man had handed a medium bag to the father. The merchant pulled out his coin purse. "No, you must save your money for your family and pretty daughter. I insist."

"Thank you, Doctor Clement!"

The merchant walked off with his daughter and the doctor walked into his store. Francis was curious of the kind and healthy man. He walked to the store door and walked inside. His eyes widened at the sight. It was a clinic for the sick, for this street and the next it seemed.

"Good day sir, are you well? Is their anything I can do for you?" asked the same voice he had been curious over. Francis himself, while weak, was doing so much better than his citizens.

"I am fine monsieur, just curious of your establishment," he answered. He looked at the sick children laying in the beds. Francis felt his soften and pull into sorrow. "They look still so sick..."

"It will take time to find a cure but hopefully it will be soon. Monsieur, I wonder will you help me for today? I understand if you do not want to be by the disease," Doctor Clement asked. Francis nodded his head and turned to the kind man. He seemed to be healthy to almost everyone, however Francis could see the fatigue and stress ailing the man.

"Of course, I have nothing better to do doctor."

The man nodded and had Francis start giving the children herbal tea. Throughout the day however, he noticed that no parents had come to see any of the children. It pulled at his heart to see these kids suffer and yet have no one but a doctor watch over them. The doctor was kind and gentle; there's no doubt about that. It made the nation smile when he saw the doctor take his time to tell the children a story of valiant knights who fought the wicked king. The hero saving the princess from an execution and giving her back her throne; only to marry her and become king. They squealed when he voiced the elegant Princess Butterfly with a high pitched overdone voice. Francis was surprised that he himself had a good time through times like this. Yet, here he was laughing along with his children.

Francis had seen many people come and go from the clinic and drugstore. They had nothing but love and the respect for the man. He gave them as much as he could and never asked for pay. He saw why the street was more cleaner and less filled with sorrow then the rest of the city. They had hope and believed in a young doctor who worked from day and night. Francis sighed as he picked up his coat and draped it over his frame. He looked at the doctor who was tucking in the little abandoned and orphaned children.

"It is remarkable how much you do for these people, for this street," he said. The doctor looked up and smiled sadly, letting his face go into one of sorrow.

"I do what I can, however it is not enough. They all die one by one and I can do little to combat this disease," his tone full of pain.

"You are doing more than you see. You not only help them through their grief and pain; you give them hope of better days. Look at those children who have no one, who have nothing. You brought them in from the streets and gave them food and a home that blocks the cold and smell of death. You are doing what you can. That is enough," the nation responded with pride for this citizen of his.

"Thank you, monsieur. May I ask your name? We have spent the day together and yet I still haven't learned it," the doctor asked.

"As long as you give me yours in return. I am Francis Bonnefoy."

"Theo Clement, pleased to meet you."

Theo is a worthy name, Francis thought. It means 'gift of God' and this man is truly a gift. The doctor held an air of strength and kindness that made people trust him. He was wonderful with children and held their attention with his gentle personality. That he was not captured yet by a beautiful young woman was astounding. He was handsome by many means. His yellow hair gave him an image of light in a world of darkness, his dark blue eyes reminded him of the sky, and he had a gentle smile that put most anyone at ease. A true gift of God.

"I must make my leave now," Francis said. He was dreading and anticipating to see Angleterre again. They had actually agreed to a meeting to discuss the plague.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Non, but I will be back in France next week. I will come and help again. I give you my word," and with that Francis left into the chilly night.

One Week Later

Francis was shocked at the change of the street in only one week. He walked quickly to Theo's clinic and flung open the door. It was empty. Everything was gone except the strong smell of death. Francis looked around and saw a journal at the end of the counter. He picked it up and read the name of it's author, Theo Clement. Francis turned to the last page that is written.

'Dear Journal,

Today, I am afraid that I am dying of the same disease that I try to fight. All of those sweet children have died before I. I weep for their passings and pray for their ascent into Heaven. I feel my own strength fleeing me everyday and I know that soon it will be my turn to leave this earth and join our fatherly lord. I have been often confused on why my thoughts have turned to that mysterious man Francis Bonnefoy. That is until I remembered where I have heard that name before. Our own nation is suffering and yet carries hope that we will move on and survive this epidemic. I cannot blame him. I have hope as well. I will die today and forever be dead. I pray that God has forgiven us for our purged sins.

Theo Clement'

Francis cried for the children and their kind doctor. He was a gift from the heavens and God had wanted him back. Francis tucked the journal into his coat and walked away into the street. He weeped for his country and people. He weeped for the cruelty of God.

Aftermath

Theo Clement had rushed through the countries to get into his assigned seat. He was late from the bone transplant on little Carrie Harrison. He nodded to Liberty as she raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed and briefly gave her an explanation. She calmly smiled and waved her hand to his seat. He knew that she was used to his ways now. He had found her breathing again after she had died. He would always remember her rebirth, as well as the others. The doctor found the eyes of Venice and grinned happily at her warm brown eyes. He gazed away from her and saw his nation. France looked the same. There was the same warmth in his face and eyes. He was excited to converse with the man once again. For it had been to long since that day.

"Hello, my name is Liberty Jones. Boy, do we have a story for you."

THE END!

REVIEW PLEASE! FLAMES ARE WELCOME IF YOU HAVE ANY. I like honest feedback so I know what I have to work on and what I can do to improve my writing or imagination. Ideas are welcomed if you think that something can be added that is AWESOME! But not as awesome as the AWESOME PRUSSIA!