A/N: This fic would be taking place towards the end of 1698 when the problems at the settlement of New Caledonia {as it had then become known} became apparent to the settlers. Some France/Scotland fluff in here just because, and a rather bittersweet ending if you know your history.
Scotland sighed heavily as he tried to hush a now screaming little Darien. What had started out as a mild fever at the beginning of the year had now become a full blown case of some tropical disease that was ravaging the settlers at the colony's house. Scotland himself wasn't faring that much better; he was quickly running out of money to send help to the settlers and England's boss had told the other countries' bosses not to send aid in case they ended up pissing Spain off, and had ended up with a nasty cold as a result. Scotland was not above asking for help when it was so obviously needed, but his brother seemed intent on making sure the northern nation suffered for trying to survive in a rapidly changing world. Scotland sighed again as he rubbed the child's back,
"C'mon now wee one, it's ok, yer big brother's richt here." He soothed, bouncing the colony gently. Eventually Darien stopped screaming and hiccoughed, sniffling a little,
"I... it hurts." He whimpered, burying his face into Scotland's shirt. Scotland grimaced and stifled a sneeze before he replied,
"I ken it does wee one." He said quietly, "But it'll pass eventually." He assured the child. Darien didn't reply, having fallen into a light doze. Scotland smiled faintly as he put the colony back in his bed, gingerly sweeping some of his hair out of his face, "It'll be fine, it's just a bit o' an epidemic is all." He muttered, trying to assure himself more than anything else. Scotland looked around for the cloth that he's been using to keep Darien's fever down with, found it and placed it back on the child's forehead. The red-haired nation sniffed miserably and walked through to the main lounge area of his house and collapsed onto the chair. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again, "I suppose it cannae hurt tae hae five minutes." He muttered, leaning against the back of the chair, crossing his arms and falling into a light doze.
The next thing Scotland knew; he was lying down in his own bed, his bed covers tucked tightly around him and a cool cloth on his head. The Celtic nation groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder,
"Ah, mon cher, you shouldn't push yourself." A heavily accented voice chided. Scotland chuckled a little,
"I should've known." He croaked, "Whit're ye daein' here?" he asked. France sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled faintly at the Scottish man,
"I 'ad 'eard that dear Angleterre was making things difficult for you again, so I came to see 'ow you were coping." He explained, his brow furrowing a little with worry, "It is a good thing I did, you 'ave got a terrible cold." Scotland was about to let France know that he was fine when he suddenly remembered about the colony that he'd left in his room. The Scottish man made to get up like a shot, but France was quick to stop him again,
"It's all right, Wales came with me. 'E is keeping an eye on ton petite for you." He soothed, "You should stay in bed for a while." Scotland sagged a little and allowed himself to be pushed back onto his pillow,
"I dinnae really want tae, but I'm gonnae have tae if you're here aren't I?" he pouted. France chuckled,
"Oui," he confirmed, "but don't worry, I'm sure that Wales will bring little Darienne in 'ere if 'e asks for you." Scotland nodded and sniffed miserably, now really starting to feel the effects of the cold setting in now he wasn't worrying so much over the little colony in the next room,
"Ta... ye ken fer comin' a' the way o'er." He said, flushing a little now that he was more fully awake. France merely chuckled again,
"It is not problem mon couer." He assured the other nation, "I 'ad been planning to visit to see the little one anyway." Scotland sighed and looked at the bed covers,
"I just wish he wis well enough fer ye tae meet properly." He muttered, "But there seems tae be an epidemic o' somethin' goin' roond the colony." France laid a hand on Scotland's gently,
"I'm sure that I can meet him properly when it passes." He said quietly. Scotland looked back up at France and nodded,
"I suppose so." He agreed, but the frown deepened, "I'm just worried that Spain's gonnae turn up richt in the middle o' it." France sighed,
"I would try to talk to him about this if I could mon grand." He said, "But I do not think it would do much good. Spain is very protective of 'is colonies." He pointed out. Scotland snorted,
"I'm no' even there tae tak' any o' them." He grumbled, "I jus' wanted tae get one o' my ain set up so I wouldnae hae tae go beggin' tae England fer a hand oot." France frowned,
"Even if you explained it to 'im I doubt Espagne would listen to you. With you being Angleterre's brother 'e will not trust anything you say, even though you probably 'ate Angleterre even more than 'e does." Scotland sighed and leaned his bead back against the wall,
"Then we're buggered either way." He muttered darkly. France grimaced a little, he really did not like being caught between two of his best friends, but that was the nature of being a country in these times. It was at this point that Wales poked his head in the door,
"Ah so you are awake." He noted as he came into the room carrying Darien, who was gripping at his shirt and staring at Scotland with wide eyes. Scotland gave the colony a small smile as he motioned for Wales to hand the child to him,
"It's a'right Darien, France here jus' came over tae visit and decided I'd be better off sleeping in ma bed." He chuckled. Darien didn't say anything as he buried his head in Scotland's shirt again and shivered. Wales shrugged,
"I think he had a nightmare or something." He said, "Not that he was in the mood for telling me anything." Scotland merely returned the shrug,
"I wouldnae be in the mood fer talkin' either if the first thing I saw when I woke up wis your ugly mug." He replied easily. Wales rolled his eyes in annoyance,
"Nice to see you're still well enough to pick on the rest of us as usual." He retorted. He nodded to the colony who was now dozing once again as Scotland petted his hair, "That fever seems to have broken a bit though, it's not as bad as when I got here." He told his brother. Scotland hummed a little,
"It'll probably be back later on, but ta anyway." Wales nodded as he looked at his brother proper,
"D'you want anything to eat?" he offered, "Because you don't look like you've been eating." Scotland looked up at his brother sharply,
"Well... seein' as ye're offerin'..." he replied slowly, which was all the encouragement the Welshman needed to go straight to the kitchen. Scotland turned to France,
"I dinnae look that bad dae I?" he asked. France tried not to smirk as he nodded,
"I'm afraid to say, mon cher, that you do." He held up his hands as Scotland took a breath to start complaining, Before you start, cher, that it is perfectly understandable given the circumstances. I know that you do not eat very much when you are stressed. Add in the fact that you 'ave been looking after Darienne by yourself when you 'ave a cold and well..." he trailed off. Scotland sighed,
"I suppose it shouldnae surprise me that I look like utter shite when I feel like it." He admitted with a small smirk of his own. He looked down at Darien again, "I just hope the wee one makes it." France stroked at Darien's hair,
"If 'e is 'ere then I don't see any reason why not. After all why would you 'ave found him if the colony was not going to last?" Scotland thought about it for a moment,
"Aye I suppose you're right." He agreed, looking up to the other nation with a smile, "Ta Francis, I'll rest a wee bit easier knowin' that." France returned the smile as they both looked back down to the still sleeping child nestled safely in Scotland's arms. Darien shifted a little in his sleep as Scotland relaxed, totally oblivious to the outside world. Darien was going to be fine, after all, why wouldn't he be?