When writing, I come up with a lot of ideas at once - most get discarded or altered, mixed up and reused. Some just sit in the dark corners of my computer and gather virtual dust. These are the missing moments of "Children of the Nations" - snippets, scenarios, and other such things that didn't quite make the final cut. The idea for this was originally cross-over-lover232's idea. You're my plot bunny rancher, 232~!
Red lights turned pink through the tears that blurred his eyes. Alphonse squeezed his eyes shut, releasing the tears, and trying to block out the sights and sounds around him. His thin, bruised wrists quaked beneath the pressure of the heavy hands that pinned him down, and his heart quailed in disgust and fear as someone's tongue trailed up from his navel to his throat.
The weight of the man on top was crushing his pelvis, and making it hard for him to breathe. His sides and back throbbed from the clawing they'd received, and several of the wounds still bled into the cheap sheets beneath them.
A tiny whimper escaped his tight throat as his captor released one of his wrists to lift one of the smaller blonde's limp legs over his shoulder. Alphonse didn't try to fight. The doors were locked, anyway.
Somewhere, in some past life, he must have done something horrible. Lied. Cheated. Killed someone. Why else would God punish him like this? The hand returned to pin down his wrist, and Alphonse's slim body quaked with a silent sob.
God, please…forgive him of whatever sin he had committed…please, just make this stop…
He was suddenly surrounded by black. His arms were restrained. He couldn't breathe. In a fit of utter panic, Alphonse tore his way out of the silky bed sheets, throwing himself out of the bed with the motion. The man scrambled to his feet, but lost his balance and fell again, crashing against the pale wall. He pulled his knees to his chest and started to sob, hard and desperate. As though he were trying to break something inside of him.
"Dieu, s'il vous plaît me libérer ..." (God, please set me free…) He gasped pitifully between his shoulder-wracking sobs. A hand touched his shoulder gently, and Alphonse screamed, jerking back and covering his head with his arms.
"Oh, mon pauvre fils ..." (Oh, my poor son…) A pair of arms encircled him and held him tight. Unlike the usual embrace that bruised and caused him to whimper, this hug was genuine; warm; comforting. Alphonse lowered his arms and dropped his head against France's shoulder, feeling as though every ounce of his strength had simply vanished.
"Père ... qu'ai-je fait?" (Father…what have I done?) Alphonse cried. "Qu'ai-je fait pour attirer la colère de Dieu? Pourquoi dois-je être torturé alors?" (What have I done to draw God's wrath? Why must I be tortured so?) His voice cracked and Alphonse hiccuped, leaning closer to his father, trying to steal some of that comforting warmth he so craved. France cradled his oldest son close, his own lip beginning to tremble.
"Vous avez rien fait de mal, mon fils…" (You have done nothing wrong, my son…) He whispered, leaning down to kiss Alphonse gently on top of the head. "Le péché est tout à moi…" (The sin is all mine…) France held his eldest son close, resting his head in the hollow of his neck and shoulder, and simply rocking him as he sobbed.
Had he only known…he would never have left his son to live this horrible life. Just look what it had done to this once happy soul. France cradled Alphonse until the smaller man's sobs had slowed to nothing, and he lay limp and exhausted in his father's arms. "Soyez tranquille, mon fils ..." (Rest easy, my son…) France whispered, gently stroking his son's hair. "Vous ne pouvez pas y retourner." (You shall not return there.)
"S'il vous plaît pas ..." (Please no…) Alphonse whimpered, blue eyes squeezed shut. "Je ne peux pas faire plus, papa ... Je ne peux pas ... Ça me tue ..." (I can't do this anymore, papa….I can't….it's killing me…)
"Shhh….." France gently hushed his eldest son. "Pas plus, mon garçon, pas plus ..." (No more, boy, no more…) He promised softly. "Vous ne souffre plus. Vous êtes libre, maintenant." (You shall suffer no are free, now.)
Very short...but then, these are just snippets. Here, we see another reason France and Alphonse stopped fighting...though Benoit and his 'special stone' were certainly a strong factor.