Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia
Summary: America knelt and set down the bouquet of red roses on the slab of marble before him. It had been just a year since he died, but that didn't make it less painful for any of them. Not one bit.
oOo
"England! England! Pick me up too!"
England chuckled at the excitable young nation and bent down to carry him, being careful not to drop Canada, who was held carefully in his right arm.
America climbed up on his father figure's shoulder as soon as England bent low enough for him to reach it, proclaiming loudly that he had conquered the British Empire. Canada giggled softly as England made realistic choking sounds and began to stumble around like a drunken man, exaggeratedly bemoaning his defeat at the hands of a micronation. It was then that France stepped in, an amused smile on his face, interrupting their little charade.
"How irresponsible, Angleterre, can't you see that it's past their bedtime?" France said, speaking as if it was a five-year old he was scolding. America pouted before burying his head in England's mop of hair. England, on the other hand, smirked and in less than a second, France was caught in a dip. England's hand was on his back, while the other held his hand. Canada was secured between them, while America, with his quick reflexes, was still safely seated on England's shoulders, his tiny arms wrapped around the older nation's forehead.
France was frozen for several seconds, before glaring at the clearly amused Englishman.
"Very funny, Angleterre, now let me go before I punch you in the face."
"Are you sure that's what you want me to do right now, frog?"
France blushed scarlet and glared at the Englishman.
"The little ones are uncomfortable. Poor Canada's getting crushed and America might fall off!"
England seemed to think about that for a while before smiling mischievously and helping France stand up straight again. America noticed that England still hadn't let go of France and he clung tighter, knowing that the older nation was definitely up to something.
"Then maybe." America felt England swaying. Slowly at first, before they became more pronounced. "They'd prefer this."
England pulled on France's hand, who went along with his movements, dancing to an imaginary song. England smiled gently and began to spin them around. America let out a little cheer as the world became a blur of color around them. Soon enough though, he felt himself getting sleepy, and he yawned before setting his head down on England's hair. He was just going to close his eyes for a few seconds…
The next time he opened his eyelids, they seemed a lot heavier than he remembered, and he was no longer on England's shoulders, but in his arms. He smiled contentedly and snuggled deeper into that warm embrace, slowly drifting back to sleep.
oOo
America knelt and set down the bouquet of red roses on the slab of marble before him. It had been just a year since he died, but that didn't make it less painful for any of them. Not one bit.
He ran his fingers across the little grooves that formed his father figure's human name. Arthur Kirkland.
'What I wouldn't give to have just another chance to be with him. Another chance to be a family again,' he thought, clenching his eyes shut at the influx of memories in his head. His head snapped to the side at the sound of footsteps and he saw England's brothers approach. He stood up and dusted himself off before heading off to the airport, not really in the mood to talk to them. He had another father to see today.
oOo
America glared at France, who glared back down at him with a fury rarely ever seen from him. Between them was a pile of broken glass, which France was pointing at.
"I want the truth, and I want it now, America! Who. Broke. These. Dishes?"
America flushed with anger and answered with as much conviction as he could muster. "It was Canada."
France's frown deepened and he placed both hands on his hips. "One last time, you little brat. Don't make me ask again."
The little nation shut his eyes to keep angry tears at bay before he ran out of the room as fast as he could and dashed up the stairs, ignoring France's shouts, half of which were said in French. In his state, he didn't notice England until he actually slammed into him, but the older nation managed to remain standing while America ended up on the floor. The Englishman didn't say anything, but picked up the crying little nation and walked into his study, shutting the door behind him and effectively blocking out the Frenchman's voice.
America was sniffling madly as he sat him down on his armchair. England pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his tears away before letting the little nation blow his nose with it. He dumped the stained cloth in a nearby wastebasket before he knelt in front of the tiny nation.
"Care to tell me what happened down there, lad?" England asked, placing a hand on America's head. He pouted and shook his head and England smiled at him, chuckling softly.
"Alright, alright," he said and stood up, walking over to his desk and opening a drawer. He reached inside and pulled out a black box with gold stars covering it. America, though upset, couldn't stifle his curiosity and craned his neck to see what England was doing. When England turned to him again, he had a top hat in his hand and he was now wearing white gloves. America blinked as England put the hat on, and gasped in surprise as a pigeon suddenly appeared on England's head as he removed the hat. The older nation smiled and bowed deeply, letting the bird fly off his head and out the window as America clapped noisily.
He straightened up and put on the hat again before reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a Joker card. England smiled and waved it in front of him. America eyed the card very closely, but one flick of England's hand and the Joker turned into a King. America laughed with glee and took the card, checking it to find any trick, only to find that it was just a normal King of Spades. England patted his head amusedly and slid a wand out of his sleeve. He twirled it several times in his hand before he flicked it in America's face, causing the little nation to blink. Next thing he knew, it was a red rose in front of him. He took it again and felt the stem, gasping softly to find that it was real. There was no trace of the wand, and as if to prove it, England hitched up his sleeves, revealing nothing underneath but bare skin. By now America was hopping up and down with excitement, tugging at England's pant leg and begging him to tell him how he did it. The Englishman smiled and knelt down to his level again.
"Well, I'll tell you. But you have to tell me who it was that broke those dishes, lad," he said, and America instantly sagged.
England wasn't the deterred by the child's sudden drop in enthusiasm and America scuffed his shoe on the floor sullenly. "Canada was chasing me…and we went into the kitchen. I didn't see where I was going and I hit the china cabinet," he muttered.
England raised an eyebrow at this. It was hard to imagine the usually quiet child running around the house, let alone chasing his brother for no reason. "Why was Canada chasing you?"
America winced and hunched his shoulders. Here comes. "…because I took his bear."
England let out a little sigh at this and stood up. "I'm not mad at you, per se, but I'm not really very happy with you right now because technically, you lied to France about what really happened."
"But Canada was the one chasing me…" he reasoned, but they both knew how weak that held up against England next statement.
"You took his pet, America. You knew how important that bear is to him, and you tried to antagonize him by taking it."
America winced and looked down again, knowing that he was completely beaten now. England placed a hand on the boy's back and ushered him out the door. "You know what to do, then."
oOo
As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, America admitted the truth to France, and insisted to replace the broken dishes despite France's claim that he was forgiven even if he didn't pay for the damage. America's stubbornness won in the end and France sent him on his way after giving him a big hug and a muffin. America headed outside and munched on the unexpected treat happily, glad for England's help.
That night, America was awoken by the sound of his door closing, and he rubbed his eyes, yawning widely. He flicked his lamp switch on and much to his surprise, there was a crisp dollar bill wedged under the lamp. He pulled on it and saw a small, yellow note clipped to it. He blinked, confused, and edged closer to the light so he could read the small writing.
France told me what you said to him. Silly boy, do you have any idea how much that china's worth? Well, I thought I'd help you out anyway. Take care of this, lad. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know.
America blinked disbelievingly at the statement. It didn't? He never knew that. He shrugged it off and continued reading silently.
But, I can't tell you how proud I am of you, America. You'll grow into a brave and trustworthy nation someday. I believe that with all my heart.
America felt little tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and he smiled, before rubbing away at his eyes with his sleeves.
That warm feeling in his chest was one he would remember all his life.
oOo
America walked the rest of the way to France's house. His suitcase wasn't really that heavy anyway, and he felt that the fresh air would do him a world of good. Maybe give him something to think about other than England.
Suddenly, a mop of blonde hair whizzed by the corner of his peripheral vision and America froze and spun around. Behind him was a man with messy blonde hair wearing a brown suit. Without thinking, he dropped his suitcase and ran after the man, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around.
Words could not describe his disappointment when it turned out to be just a regular Frenchman. The man's eyes were wide and fearful and America quickly let go of him. "S-Sorry, I mistook you for someone else."
Good for him, the man accepted him apology and went on his way. America sighed and walked over to where he dropped his suitcase. He picked it up and hurried on his way, keeping his head down the whole time.
oOo
America entered France's house, letting the maids take his suitcase and direct him to where France's room was. He thanked them with his trademark charming smile, sending them skittering off with obvious blushes on their faces. As soon as they left, the smile slipped off his face, and he stared at the doorknob, debating on whether he should go in loudly or not. His hand closed around the polished handle and gave a gentle push. As soon as the door opened a fraction, sobs and whimpers filled his ears and he stopped.
Inside was Canada and France, the latter's usually pristine blonde hair was matted and his face was buried in the former's lap. Canada combed through the golden locks as gently as he could while whispering soft, comforting words, but clearly, they were having little to no effect as France continued to cry his heart out to the other nation.
The scene itself was heartbreaking enough, but what stuck America most was the bloodstains on Canada's shirt, as well as the bloodied bandages wrapped tightly around France's wrists. He wasn't very bright, but it didn't really take a genius to know what exactly it was France tried to do. America stumbled back and slid to the floor as soon as he hit the wall, not trusting his legs to keep him upright anymore. How could this be happening? How could France do this to himself? He let the tears fall and looked up at the mosaic of angels that decorated France's ceiling.
'Please…if you're really there, please hear me…'
He could still hear France's sobs, and he could feel sobs his own threatening to tear out of his throat.
'He's dying without him…Just please, bring him back. France still needs him…'
He didn't mention how much he himself still needed England, how Canada sometimes still called him at night, crying for their dead father. Because it was obvious to both of them that it was France who needed him most.
'Please.'
Perhaps it was just the tears causing him to see things, but somehow the angels' eyes twinkled for a fraction of a second. America looked down, hiccupping softly and feeling stupid for taking such a huge leap of faith. He coughed a few times before he pulled off his glasses and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He stood and walked over to the door, opening it fully to alert his twin of his presence. Canada looked up at him and offered a sad smile. America nodded at him and walked over to them, noting silently that France had fallen asleep. He felt like crying again at the sight of the bandages but he shook his head, feeling Canada's eyes on him. He was supposed to be strong for them. That's what England told him before he died. He would honor that last wish; he swore he would.
He gently moved to pick up the sleeping nation and carefully tucked him in with Canada's help. He stroked his father figure's face absentmindedly, noting the sickly pale complexion and the hollow cheeks. Canada sat on the other side of the bed and buried his face in his hands, sighing softly. Though he would've been contented to just sit there in the silence, America noticed something that made his blood run cold.
France wasn't breathing.
Quickly, he stood and lowered his ear to France's chest. He couldn't hear a heartbeat. This time, full out panic rose within him and he began to shake France. Canada had already realized what was wrong and rushed outside to call for help, but America barely took notice.
"France, you idiot! You're willing to risk the life of your countrymen? Your people? Come on, stop being selfish! Wake up! You can't die! France!"
Canada ran back in with Switzerland just behind him. One look at France and Switzerland quickly pushed America away ("What the hell are you doing? You're going to cause an earthquake!") and began to check France's vital signs. He muttered something in French and America turned to Canada for a translation, but his twin seemed too preoccupied with worrying to actually register anything else.
After several grueling hours, France was stable again, and Switzerland left without so much as a goodbye to either twin, but America didn't let it bother him, and just silently thanked the Swiss for saving France's life, reminding himself that he owed the other nation. He turned back to the bed, where Canada was holding on to France's hand, whispering that his temperature was returning to normal again. America decided to stay until France woke up again, and sent a text to his boss, notifying him of his decision.
Several hours later, Canada was already fast asleep on the couch, too tired from the emotional strain he had to put up with today, and America was left to watch over France. He watched the rise and fall of France's chest like a hawk, and he perked up instantly when his eyes slowly opened, revealing dull, tired blue eyes. To his surprise, the other nation struggled to sit up, and he walked over, stopping his movements by placing his hands on his shoulders.
"Are you crazy, France? After that stunt you pulled you shouldn't move around too much!" America scolded, but France just closed his fingers around America's wrists and gently made to push them away. America sighed at the feeble attempts and just repositioned his hands to support the nation as he sat up. He nearly jumped out of his skin when another pair of hands propped up the pillows, before he realized that his voice had probably woken his twin from his sleep. He smiled apologetically and Canada waved it off with a smile of his own. As soon as France was seated comfortably enough, the atmosphere became tense and awkward. America and Canada were both standing on either side of France's bed, staring at the older nation with apprehension and worry. France looked down at the hands folded in his lap and cleared his throat before he spoke.
"First of all, I should apologize for the distress I've caused you both. I…My grief had gotten the best of me, I suppose. And I let it cloud my judgment," he told them, and Canada moved to embrace his father figure comfortingly. France lifted an arm to wrap around Canada's shoulders and kissed the top of his blonde head. America was still frowning deeply, but France when looked up at him, eyes shining with childlike hope, America found the frown slowly slipping off his face.
"But I saw him, mes chéris…Angleterre…I saw him."
America's eyes widened and Canada tensed in France's hold, but the look on the older nation's face didn't change.
"It's true, mon fils. For a second I thought I was dreaming, but when he held me, when he danced with me…it all felt so real…" France continued, a faraway look coming to his eyes, as if trying to relive the moment.
"Then he spoke to me, mes chéris. He told me to be strong…because he would wait for me, and he would watch over me until my time comes. He told me to take care of you both in his place and to tell you how much he loves and misses you both…"
America felt tears slowly leaking out of his eyes, and Canada was already crying softly in France's arms, burying his face in the older nation's shoulder.
America cleared his throat and looked away, smirking, before he said. "That's England, alright…"
He jumped slightly as he felt a cold breeze graze his cheek, heading up to his hair before disappearing. He looked up and blinked at the mosaic of angels with their twinkling glass eyes. He smiled, and it seemed that one angel in particular, with short, wild blonde hair and thick eyebrows, smiled back at him.
'Thank you.'
oOo
Ok, I seriously don't know what came over me. This was actually supposed to be a Christmas fic for my favorite Hetalia family, but then Miss Celine Dion's song played on the radio, and before I knew it, I was typing out a completely different fic. Sorry if I ruined the happy Christmas spirit for some of you out there, but review please nonetheless.
Oh, and I know Switzerland seemed random up there *points* but honestly, being France's neighbor and Red Cross and all...not really. What do you mean bias? Him being one of my favorite characters has completely nothing to do with it! *dodges tomato* Oh and yeah, cameo by Britannia Angel, cookies for you if you noticed him the second I mention him. Additional trivia: Red roses are England's national flower.
Happy Holidays everyone.