{{Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia that right belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya
A/N: Just to clarify that I love all the characters in Hetalia and have nothing against France. I just need to torture him in the story so that it will make more sense later on.}}
Chapter One:
As the city lights lit the darkening sky, and pedestrians crowded the busy streets, a tall figure leaned against the rustic red brick wall of an abandoned house. An old pocket watch glinted in the darkness and a rotting, twisted smile gleamed menacingly in the shadows. The man was enjoying himself, gazing at the watch ticking slowly to midnight. His twisted smile turned even more sinister. The fun was about to start and no one was expecting it. It sent shivers of excitement down his spine. There were five minutes left.
Pushing away from the brick wall he pulled the hood of his long navy blue, knee length jacket up over his head as he slowly dissolved into the growing shadows of the ally. He moved along the ally till he hit the opposite street and moved out among the crowd of citizens. He had to admit it was a beautiful city. Then again it was Paris, France. Pulling deeper into the crowd of bystanders he pulled out his cell phone and opened the text menu. With fingers flying across the keypad he typed his text and hit send.
'To: UFO
Subject: Operation Falcon!
The rabbit is in place, release the hound!'
Placing the phone back into his pocket he continued walking until he saw another hooded figure outside a small bakery. Walking over to the other hooded man, they shared a few words before getting into a black 1992 Clio. The man with the yellowing teeth looked at his watch again. 11:59:56pm. just four seconds remaining, and as he closed the pocket watch the clock struck 12.
Francis was having a very good dream. It was beautiful. The sun was shining on a large green field filled with wild flowers. She was there her beautiful golden hair shining in the sunlight. It was the only place he could see her now, but as much as it saddened him he would never give up these dreams. He sat there on the grass, watching her dance, a beautiful smile gracing her features. She stopped and turned to him, her smile warm and inviting.
'Francis, you need to wake up now,' her sweet voice sounded, 'hurry, you're in danger.'
Then as if on cue the dream altered. Instead of the grassy fields and wild flowers, there was now a city street and many citizens. They were crowded around a pile of lumber. France felt his blood run cold when the wood caught fire. He stood there in horror as he watched the flames catch onto her dress. Searing the flesh on her legs, consuming her entire body as the agonized screams echoed throughout the crowd.
He wasn't sure what had woke him up first, the nightmare, explosion, or the sharp agonizing pain that suddenly shot through his body like a thousand knives. Pulling himself up off the bed he winced and stumbled over to his bedroom window. What he saw, he couldn't explain. It was too horrible for words. Outside his window he saw Paris going up in flames. People running and screaming, trying to find safety from the falling debris as buildings crumbled around them. He had to do something! He was about to turn and head downstairs to help when an even greater pain assaulted his body. Grasping his sides he almost fell to his knees but caught himself on the wall. Leaning on the wall he whirled back to the window, just in time to see the Eiffel tower fall. With the state he was in he knew that a large majority of his monuments met the same fate.
He was in so much pain, but he had to do something. Pushing himself off the wall he staggered to his bedroom door. Pushing it open he moved to the hallway. However, he wasn't fast enough. He should have known, should have sensed it, but he didn't and with the greatest pain of all he watched as his house exploded around him. The flames engulfing it, for the next five to six hours France was in chaos. Buildings were exploding, flames were engulfing everything and the amount of dead was increasing every second.
Startling awake in a cold sweat Mathew looked around. Something was wrong he could feel it, but he didn't know what. Pacing back and forth in his room he picked up his phone and dialed his brother's number when a very tired and half out of it voice answered the other end,
"Bro, do you even know what time it is man, it's 12:30 in the morning. I need my sleep, what did you want?" Alfred questioned irritated.
Mathew frown deepened, "Is everything okay over there? Is anything wrong?"
"…Yes, and nothing is wrong, or at least not till you called, is that all dude?" Alfred asked.
"Yes, sorry to bother you night Alfred," Mathew responded biting his lip, as he hung up.
The feeling was still there though and he didn't understand, that bothered him a lot. Shaking his head he dialed France's number, but when there was no connection he panicked. Not wanting to call Alfred again he dialed Arthur's number, he had to wait a few moments it was 4:30 in England. He was about to give up when I groggy voice answered,
"Hello?" Arthur questioned in to the receiver.
"Hi Arthur, sorry to call you so early in the morning," Mathew said, "I think something is the matter with papa."
Arthur blinked once before responding, "When is there something not wrong with Francis?"
"Please Arthur, can you just check on him?" Mathew asked quietly, his voice filled with worry.
Arthur sighed, stretched and yawned, "Alright I will check and get back to you."
Mathew hung up and paced his room some more. Waiting for Arthur to call him back with some news about what was going on with France. He hoped everything was okay, hoped that the telephone lines were just down.
Arthur had half a mind to just go back to sleep, but he said he would check on the frog and he would. Dialing the Frenchman's number he waited a few moments, only to be greeted with nothing. Frowning he crawled out of bed and walked over to the window. Everything was quiet, but then he heard it, the sound of explosions. The red glow in the far horizon, fear laced his features. Dialing Mathew back he quickly told the Canadian, to bring as many medics to France as he could. Once he finished giving orders to Mathew he called closer nations.
Germany was the first. He was sleeping soundly with Italy nestled beside him when the phone rang he reached for it blindly and in a deep German voice spoke, "Hallo?"
"Germany it's Brittan, I need your help, France is under attack," Arthur spoke in a frantic tone.
Germany bolted upright in to a sitting position on the bed, "Was'? Okay I will be there as soon as I can."
Spain was the next to be called, and jumped into action two seconds after being told what was going on. Arthur then called the rest of the Allies. However, by the time they all managed to get to France it was in ruins. They all stood there in horror. Body's covered the ground, painting the earth red with their blood. The smell of charred flesh and burnt hair filled the air around the stunned nations. How could a nation be rendered to such a state in so little time? It puzzled them. It was Germany, who broke the silence and got everyone moving,
"Search for any survivors! Get the medic tents set up! America and Switzerland come with me!" he barked his orders weaving through the burnt corpses.
Everyone hurried about doing their jobs, Canada, Finland, Italy, Iceland, Estonia, Latvia and a couple others were in charge of healing the wounded. Russia, Turkey, Prussia, Denmark and Sweden were in charge of debris removal. Then there was Brittan, China, Japan, Norway, Spain, Romano, and Lithuania who went about finding survivors.
Germany, America and Switzerland had finally made it to France's house and they froze. America trembled, anger bubbling deep inside him. His blue eyes grew dark and frightening. Sure he didn't get along great with France, but he was still family and a friend. America started forward, but was stopped by Germany.
"You need to tread carefully, it is unsafe to move blindly," Germany warned.
America gritted his teeth and spat, "I would love to see you keep calm if it was Japan or Italy in there!"
"Listen, you are no help to him if you go in there half cocked! If you got hurt how the heck are Switzerland and I supposed to get both of you out of there!" he demanded, a vein in his jaw twitching.
America sighed and let his feathers settle. Taking a few more deep breaths he looked at Germany once again, "What's the plan?" he asked.
They stood in a circle for the next twenty minutes or so, going over what would be the safest way to get in there and rescue France without any risk of injury to themselves. In the end they decided to send America inside, a rope secured around his waist incase the floor gave out. They would have sent Switzerland in, because he was the lightest, but if there were any fallen debris in the way he wouldn't have been able to move it. Once the rope was secure and America disappeared into the wreckage of the house Germany turned to look at Switzerland,
"This is really bad, even if he finds him I-" Germany trailed off running a hand through his hair.
Switzerland looked at him with understanding, "I know, I haven't seen destruction like this since the old days, if he survives it'll be a miracle."
Both men turned to look back at the burnt down manor. They prayed it wasn't too late. America treaded carefully over the burnt and broken floor. It creaked horribly under his feet and made him nervous. Looking around for any sign of France he continued on cautiously. Pushing a thick fallen support beam out of his way he almost vomited, there lying in the corner was one of France's assistants. The skin was burnt so bad you could no longer tell if it was a man or a woman. The smell assaulted America's nose as he walked around the corpse, a green colored puss like liquid seeping out of gashes.
He couldn't see anything as he kept pushing through the house. He was about to go into what used to be the kitchen when he heard a noise. Looking in the general direction of the noise, he squinted and in a few moments a white object flew out of the shadows and he recognized Pierre. Turning he looked at the bird,
"Where is France?" he asked urgently.
Pierre chirped flew in a circle and flew off in the direction of where the staircase used to be. America followed the bird as quickly as he dared. When he got to where the staircase was supposed to be he sucked in a breath,
"Oh, god!" he gasped at the large hole that had jagged splints of wood sticking out in dangerous angles, and right in the middle of it was France.
America stumbled through the debris trying to avoid the sharp points that scratched at him. He had managed to make it to France before he saw the extent of the damage. There was blood everywhere, his skin burnt and blistered in areas. His blonde hair was burnt and singed in areas. When America lifted one of the beams off of France he saw the jacked blood covered end of wood protruding from the Frenchman's side. Shaking off the fear that suddenly claimed him, America moved forward and lifted France into his arms, the jagged piece of wood still in place. Getting out of the house without causing more damage to France was going to be hard enough. Retracing his footsteps he treaded even more carefully, making sure to watch where he stepped. He had finally managed to get out after a little while. Germany and Switzerland were beside him in an instant helping him support France.
Brittan and the others were still hard at work, when America, Germany and Switzerland returned with France. Soldiers were bringing in bodies by the truck loads. Medics were busy fixing up wounds and trying to save lives. France was taken to one of the main tents and after a little while was air lifted to a hospital with several other patients that needed immediate attention. The day soon turned into night before the last of the soldiers retuned. The death count was not good, and everyone was exhausted. There was still a lot to be done though. The weeks that followed were full of searching for survivors, treating the wounded and burying the dead. It was a good three weeks before everything came to a close, and people returned to their own nations.
Most of the nations themselves however spent the nights outside a hospital in their cars or in the waiting room. France had been in the ICU for three weeks and was not getting any better. They all worried and were not allowed to see him right away. Mathew had stayed at the hospital every day and night waiting for word of Frances recovery. It was on the third day of the fourth week that the doctor came with information. Everyone crowded around Mathew and the doctor, who had a grim expression and stated,
"I am afraid that Mr. Bonnefoy has suffered from massive blood loss, trauma throughout his organs, and most of his body is severely burned. We have induced a medical coma in order for you to say your farewells. He probably won't make it through the night."
{{German Translations: Hallo=Hello
Was'= What.}}