A/N - Before you say anything, yes it is France and Hungary, and no they aren't going to be in a pairing. I will probably only do a few chapters for this, not a lot, as it will only be small snippets from Francis' life with a brain tumor and so... yeah. I did try to incorporate humour into this, but you know.

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Science was never really my forte.

I remember learning about microbes - how viruses can find an opening in just about anything and that germs can be found anywhere, you just can't see them...

...but I never really understood how a person can lose a battle so quickly against a disease that is so much smaller than the person it's fighting against. Looking through a microscope, all I saw was a bunch of blobs and various other shapes, one that looked like a skipping rope the girls at school would play with at break, and it didn't occur to me much that those little 'blobs' had the power to take down a fully grown man.

I also learned what to look out for when a person contracts a disease. Coughing up blood and weight loss for Tuberculosis, tiredness that no one can explain and a recurring fever for AIDS. I suppose it was good that I had learned this beforehand, but I had never deemed a situation important enough to use this information. I had it all in my head, though. Stored up there with, "How the human body is formed."

Funny. Seems we were all arseholes at one point but I guess that some just decided to stay like that.

...

Sorry, getting off track.

...

I guess it didn't occur to me much that one day it could happen to me. One day, I may have collapsed in the street, the feeling of a migraine coming on but the seed of doubt gnawing at my brain (quite literally) telling me that it wasn't just a simple headache and that I should get it checked out right now. I did, eventually. The ever present sting of the metal smashing against my head was still felt, and knowing that stalling would have pissed her off even more, I decided to go. The collision my head made with the frying pan didn't help matters and in fact, probably made it even worse. I shall have to thank her later, accompanied with a few wise words and smart-arse remarks.

I went. The waiting room bored me to tears (or maybe I was tearing up because of how white the room was.) The doctors called me in and gave me a check up. I had expected them to catch something wrong on the first try but they said that nothing was out of the ordinary and that I should just go home and if anything felt odd in any way just come back and they'll try again. So I did. That's when it started to get worse, the symptoms becoming more apparent and my health falling rapidly.

...

I woke up to a numbness in my arms and realised that maybe something was wrong. I didn't want to believe it, but maybe she was right.

I did need help.

...

"Have you experienced anything weird lately?" She had asked me one day, sipping her coffee slowly while giving me a look that said, "no-bullshit".

"Yes... kind of. When I woke up this morning, there seemed to be a tingling sensation in my arms-"

"Has this happened before?" She interrupted.

"No," I was given that look, "...yes, but it seemed worse this time though."

"You need to get this checked out, and I mean seriously this time. It is not a laughing matter anymore and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Elizaveta, I..." She put a hand up to stop me.

"No. I want you to get this sorted out. Whatever it is, it's messing with you and causing problems."

I sighed and looked down at my coffee.

"I am just looking out for you. We may have never seen eye-to-eye but you're still my friend. Do it for me, Francis,"

I looked up at her as she gave me one last desperate look.

"Please."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

It had to be done. I just couldn't ignore her pleads any longer.

Especially when I knew she was right.

...

"Name?"

"Francis Bonnefoy."

The receptionist gave me a look and I realised that I had seen that look before. Though where I do not know.

"Take a seat and a doctor will be out shortly."

I muttered a "thanks" and sat down. I looked around at the other patients in the waiting room. They all looked like they had experienced death already! Children, elderly... everyone was affected with diseases that they will probably never recover from, having to stay here eating hospital-food (which everyone knows is nothing compared to French cuisine~) and-

"Francis Bonnefoy, the doctor shall see you now."

My thoughts were cut off as I sharply looked up at the receptionist. She gave me an irritated look and pointed at the door on the far right. I ducked my head as I walked passed her desk, not wanting to see her scathing glare any longer.

...

The doctor was a young lady with a kind smile and a soft, harmonious voice. My heart fluttered at the thought of me and her, but when I realised that I would probably be a dead man walking soon, and seriously, who would want to go out with a person who would probably die in a few years, I decided to stop.

"So, how do you feel at the moment, if you don't mind me asking?"

"To be honest... I feel like shit."

Her smile twitched and faded a little. She opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and stared directly into mine. Brown met blue.

"As I know of, you have been experiencing head pains, like migraines, correct?" - a nod - "And you are worried about a numbing sensation in your arms and legs, which really, if it was normal, it would have been gone by now."

"Does that tell you anything about what I... I may have?" She frowned and looked at my medical records, in thought.

"It does give me a starting point as to what you may have. Other than that, I will have to run some tests to get a better look."

I saw her take out a syringe and my eyes widened. It felt as if everything was in slow-motion as I saw it get closer and closer to my arm until-

"Oh." Blood filled up the syringe and she took it away from my arm, rubbing the area with cotton to get rid of the excess blood. Her smile returned as she looked at me.

"All done. I will call you in a few weeks to tell you my diagnosis."

I looked at her to my arm and back at her again.

Well, that was quick.

...

In the next few weeks, I felt even worse than the days before and at times I just wanted to collapse where I stood and sleep off a few years to ease the pain and constant fear. Elizaveta constantly told me that that would do no good and whacked me on the head a few times for good measure, to "get it into my thick skull" as she put it.

I lived my life as normally as I could, until the phone call came. The phone call. I had prepared for this moment, but the shock of what I was going to be told caused me to sweat profusely. Picking up the phone, Elizaveta watching my every move, I gave out a reply, though it was stuttered and clearly showed how nervous I was.

"H-Hello?"

"Ah, yes, hello. I have got the test results back and I am afraid that I have got some grave news."

My sweat poured out in buckets by that moment as I listened intently to what she had to say.

"You have-"

No. It can't be. Don't say what I think it is-

"a brain tumor."

I almost dropped the phone then and there but managed to keep it in my slippery grasp, wanting to know more.

"Wh-What? How can this be? I mean- how- what?"

"I know this comes as a shock, Mr. Bonnefoy," I could hear the frown in her voice, "but there are treatments for this, and we can help you."

"R-Right."

"I will give you time for this information to sink in. As for now, goodbye Mr. Bonnefoy."

"Right, bye."

Putting the phone back on the hook, I turned around slowly and faced her. She looked at me with pain in her eyes, as if she already knew what I was going to say, and I hated that I had to be the one who confirmed it.

"Elizaveta... I have a brain tumor."

...

She didn't cry, not properly any way. A few tears leaked out but other than that, nothing. I didn't cry either, to be honest. I felt sadness and a sharp pain in my heart, but that was probably from the stress of having to cope with the news of my impending death more than anything.

I managed a smile for her, though, to show I wasn't completely down.

"Hey, it's okay. I am still the Francis Bonnefoy you know and love, the womanizer from the country of love as you know~" She giggled at that and looked deep into my eyes.

"I just don't want you to go." I flinched.

"H-Hey, who said I was going to go? I have got a few years left, I'm not leaving just yet."

"I know, but... just the thought of you gone, it'd be weird. What would your parents think? Are you ever going to tell them?! I'm the only one who knows, aren't I? What about Antonio and Gilbert, they deserve to know. If you're gone, then I wouldn't be able to do target practice again." She whined, but a smirk pulled at her lips. I laughed at that.

"You've still got Gilbert."

She laughed properly this time but I couldn't bring myself to.

I now knew how serious this was and that because of this, I was leaving people I loved and cared for deeply behind.

I didn't want to do that.

Never.