Prequel fic to "Out With a Bang"
They offer nothing to me.
Days I spend laying here, slowly wasting away at the mercy of men's decisions. It hurts, I can feel every cry echo in my blood. Their protests keep me awake at night until finally I tune out the unanimous screaming into a dull drone quiet enough to lull me to sleep. I don't recognize myself anymore. I used to feel so powerful. Like I was invincible, unstoppable. Now, suddenly, I feel trembling, helpless, powerless. I want to crawl back into the arms of my father and beg for help but my pride will not stand for it. So here I lay, a weak, deteriorating mass wasting away under stark white sheets. My hope is fading. My light is bleak. My will is beginning to break and I don't know what to do.
The door opens and I expect to see Matthew coming in to check on me. He's hardly left my side since I became bedridden but a pressing matter drew him away today. However, it isn't the tender face of the Canadian that greets me. Rather, it's the smug, cold face of Francis. Since when did my mother come to hate me so much? Since when did I suddenly become this inexorible burden upon his soul? He's parading about that self-satisfied little smile, watching the trembling form of the world's great superpower slowly erode away. It must be a grand spectacle for him. With me gone, my father, his king, would once again rise to power.
"What do you want?" I make no effort to hide the irritation.
"My my, Alfred.. Rather crude even for you." He comes over, running those dainty fingers through my hair. I snap at them and he recoils, face darkening.
"Get away from me..." I was in no mood to deal with him.
"Ingrateful little twit.. I came to check on you as per Mattieu's request, there's no need to be such an uncivilized mongrel."
"I'm fine, as you can see." I turn around, not wanting to even look at him. "Go away."
He says nothing. I feel his form move to sit next to me, a hand roaming over my shoulder. I pull away but he persists, petting and kissing along the skin. I shiver at the feeling of the rough beard scratching me. Francis was always at his most insufferable when people didn't want to deal with him. What part of 'get the hell away from me' was the bastard not getting?
"What a shame.." Those fingers curl through my hair, purring in a sweet, sensual voice. "The proud, invincible America on his knees pelading to God for salvation."
I stiffen. "Don't start with me, France." I push myself upright, glaring fierce into those mocking blue eyes.
"My my... Even on your deathbed you're still full of fire."
"I'm not on my deathbed! I'm not going anywhere!"
"You're a mess, Alfred. Laughingstock of the world. All your efforts are in vain, can't you see? You're sick beyond repair!"
"S-Shut up!"
"You're disgusting.. a joke." He lifted my chin, staring straight down at me. "You don't deserve Mattieu... You're no hero, you're a sham! You're not good enough for my baby. You never were and never will be!"
"SHUT UP!"
I'd never felt so alive.
The Frenchman on his back, gasping and writhing under my hands around his throat. Fire fed into my veins, sinking nails into that supple skin. His hands claw at my wrists but I hardly feel it through the flames. Matthew.. No one take my Matthew from me! Take my country, take my freedom, take everything from me. But do not, ever, lay a hand on my maple bear. I fought too hard for his hand, spent years proving myself worthy enough to be his. It was his eyes, his laugh, his beauty that kept the sun shining in my heart. He was the only thing keeping me together.
And I won't let anyone take that away from me.
Even if it costs me my life.