Title: Take Me Away

Author: Darkmoonphase

Rating: T

Genres: Family; Adventure; Drama; Hurt/Comfort; Romance

Summary: For 12 years, Arthur and Francis have had to deal with their sons' disappearances, hoping for some sort of closure. For 12 years, Alfred and Matthew have been living a comfortable life. One day, in the middle of April, they up and leave, hoping to rediscover a life they hadn't realized they'd ever had.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.

Author Notes: Well, my problem with my stories is that I'll get a fantastic idea and have it all planned out. But then I'll build off that plot and have a completely different story. Then I'll do it again to that one. And so on. I did that about three different times with one story – that I may eventually get around to writing out – and ended up with this. Hopefully it won't turn out too bad. This story is mainly focused on Alfred and Matthew but also on Arthur and Francis. It's supposed to center around their feelings and how they're expressing them.

On a side note on this, I did my research. The schools and cities/towns are indeed real. However, neither school seemed to have ballroom teams so I made those up. As far as I know, anyway. Because Sidney Lanier High School didn't have ballroom listed anywhere and I couldn't navigate Chetopa High School's website very well. Just so you know that I'm not making everything up.

I wanted to try a new little tactic that I picked up from reading a book…I'm not too great at it yet, I don't think. But I'm trying to describe the scenery and people a bit more to make you feel like you're standing in the room with them, a part of what they're dealing with. Since it's my first real attempt with digging deeper into the descriptions part of the story, I hope that you'll give me your honest opinion when you happen upon those parts. Does it sound like I'm going off on a tangent? Does it flow? Does it feel like you're watching it on TV or are one of the people in the room? It'd be greatly appreciated so that I can improve and expand on this and make your reading experience more enjoyable. Thanks so much.

This is my third story for this fandom and the more serious one. Hopefully I don't take them too understandably out of character in my attempt to match the story to the characters. Let me know if there's a bit in there that might seem too OOC for you so I can work on it. (But just so you know, this first chapter will obviously seem OOC. At least, my friend, Feliciano Luigina Holmes said so...)

Otherwise, thanks for taking the time for this story. Hope you like it.

~XxX~

Matthew (March 15, Wednesday)

I'd never wondered before. I'd never had a reason to wonder. The Andersons were my parents and that was that. Then again, I hadn't realized I was adopted either. Today, I figured it out. I sat in front of my father's desk, staring at the papers on the floor in front of me. I frowned and picked up one of the documents. It was an adoption form and it had Alfred's name on it. I glanced at the stairs before I started sifting through more papers. There was my adoption form – all filled out with a signature to match. There were lots of other papers, probably more clues for me to piece together what I was staring at. But I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Frowning, I set the papers aside and started looking for the library forms I'd originally been sent down here to find. I didn't find them though. I sat there for a few more minutes in the dim basement light, trying to collect myself. "Hey, Matt!" Alfred called down the stairs and I looked over at them again, startled. "Did you find them?"

I got to my feet and headed upstairs. Alfred was standing at the top. "No luck," I told him, still not quite over what I'd seen.

He stared at me for a minute and then nodded, seeming to drop his suspicions for now. "Alright. Well, looks like we'll have to go in and try again." I made a face but agreed as he grinned happily. We went out through the garage and climbed into his car. "Can't believe we lost them... So time-consuming. Anyway, so what's wrong?" After starting the car, he pulled out of the driveway and took off down the street.

I glanced at him. I knew that most of the time, Alfred was extremely unobservant. But he could figure me out rather quickly when he did pay attention. Still, it always caught me off guard when he picked up on my mood so quickly. I sighed and looked out the windshield. "Have you ever thought about...about our relation to our parents?" I asked, trying to edge my way around what I really had to say.

Alfred considered this for a moment. "I figure a lot of times that I could always put in a little more effort in our relationship but... That's not what you're talking about?" He sounded confused now. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about DNA," I clarified, shaking my head. He didn't look like he got it. "I found adoption papers while I was looking for those library forms." His hands grip a little tighter on the steering wheel. "I never thought about it before. It didn't ever occur to me. But now that I know...it almost makes sense..."

"How?" Alfred asked stiffly. "I mean, they're our parents. Or, I thought they were. How does it make sense that they're suddenly not?" He leaned around me to check the mirror on my side before switching lanes.

Thinking carefully about this, the first thing that came to my mind was, "Well, our physical appearances. They look nothing like us." But that's as far as I could go at that moment. Even though I'd brought it up, I still wasn't sure I wanted to know. I knew that I'd be picking up on differences from that moment on - that was almost completely unavoidable. Once I had something in my head, it was hard to dislodge it; it was hard not to notice things that related back to the subject. It was how I worked. I wasn't known as "the most observant" on our ballroom team at school for no reason.

"That's true..." Alfred admitted slowly. He looked conflicted and I almost wished I hadn't said anything. He sighed. "You know, it explains a lot more than that. It explains why we always feel out of place at those family reunions we despise so very much." I nodded, remembering the last disaster of a family reunion and how we'd pretty much been sitting on the sidelines the entire time. "And why my personality clashes so bad with Dad's."

I almost commented on how his personality clashed with everyone's but didn't. He was right. "I know I brought it up but we're almost at the library. Can we talk about it later?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied as we pulled into the library's parking lot. "And we will talk about it later." I glanced at him and nodded, sure he wasn't going to forget. This was about as important to him as it was to me. Even if I didn't want it to be so important.

X x X

At six o' clock that night, I went to the kitchen to start dinner as usual. I stared at the counter and then at the refrigerator, trying to think of something to make. I'd been distracted all day with my discovery, finishing up some homework, and then going to ballroom practice. But Mom and Dad would be home in an hour and expect dinner to be on the table. I had no time to take a break. I walked briskly to the refrigerator and opened it up. There was some chicken on the bottom shelf that I'd pulled out this morning to thaw and forgotten about. I pulled it out and set it on the counter, staring at it and wondering what I'd been planning. I glanced at some of the condiments in the fridge door and remembered, "Teriyaki chicken over rice!" I pulled out the required sauce and set it on the counter before I closed the fridge and went to get the rice from the pantry next to it.

It was a short process, to get the rice going. The slowest – and my least favorite – part was cutting up the chicken. I pulled out a cutting board and a large knife and set to work. While I cut the chicken, I thought about my discovery. Why hadn't our parents ever said anything about it? It bothered me a little. In passing, I wondered if they were waiting for us to figure it out and ask. But that didn't seem right. We were in our junior years in high school. We should have been told. Right? This was something that we'd be able to figure out on our own anyway if we tried hard enough. So why did they hide it?

Then, as I glanced down at my progress, I wondered, why are they still hiding it? I pushed the chicken into the frying pan; having done this so many times, I had the procedure down flat. It sizzled and I stared at it, not amused. I'd thought that my life was pretty good here. But what if I could have something different? What would my life be like if my real parents hadn't wanted to give me up, but kept me instead? I pulled out a wooden spoon and started moving the chicken around in its pan. It was hard to imagine but I thought that maybe I'd be happier. Maybe I'd have friends. Maybe, on warm summer days, my family and I would be outside doing something together. I sighed dreamily.

"I raised you!" Mom suddenly shouted from down the hall. She was home early, I realized as I glanced at the microwave clock. "David and I fed you, clothed you, gave you shelter, and standards to live by!" She was following Alfred into the kitchen; my brother looked very defeated. "Doesn't that make us your real parents? I think so! What do you think, Alfred?" He tried to stutter a response but she didn't wait for him to gain control of his tongue again. Angrily, she turned and stormed down the hall. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed shut. In the silence that followed, I paid close attention to the chicken to keep it from burning.

"No, it doesn't…" Alfred finally muttered. He sat at the table, in the chair backed to the fridge but it was closest to me. "I just want to know." His voice was weak and I had to turn down the fan to hear him.

I thought about that for a few minutes as I dumped the teriyaki sauce onto the chicken. This was the fast version; I was supposed to have let it marinate earlier. "So do I but sending Mom into a panic attack won't help," I told him, setting the sauce aside. "We'll just figure it out ourselves, okay?"

"They live in Kansas." His voice was barely audible. I couldn't look at him.

"What?" My hand was shaking a little so I focused more on stirring the chicken, trying to steady it. I couldn't come to a rational decision about why I was reacting like this.

"I did some research while you did homework – sifted through the papers and then got online. I'm not entirely sure – there's still a lot of information I have to go through. But if I'm right…they live in Kansas." Finally, I let my eyes wander over to him. His normally bright and playful blue eyes were dull and serious. He was wearing his "lazy" outfit of a loosely-fitted white T-shirt and faded blue jeans; he'd kicked his shoes off when we'd gotten back from ballroom practice. His "lazy" outfit made him look both frazzled and defeated at that moment, though. "I read some newspaper articles. I don't think we were just adopted…"

His voice trailed as Dad walked in, looking powerful in his fury. He was normally an intimidating man anyway. He was almost always in a suit as he was a salesman at a local car dealership. But his strength was usually very obvious, his shirt stretching tight over his chest. People were often surprised to hear that Alfred and I were his kids because of all three of our very different personalities – Dad was strict and harsh; Alfred was funny and loud; I was quiet and observant. Tonight, however, he looked dangerous and his venomous tone helped the look. "Why is your mother locked in her room crying?"

"I don't know," Alfred said quietly. And he probably wasn't sure, though he might have a general idea. "I just mentioned that Matthew and I found out we were adopted today." Dad sucked in a sharp breath, madder than ever for reasons unknown to my brother and I. "I just wanted to know about our birth parents…"

"We didn't know them," Dad declared in that authoritative voice. And that was that. He left as Alfred stared at his feet and I went back to stirring the chicken. But I knew that wasn't a satisfying answer for Alfred. I knew it wasn't the end for him. And, somehow, I knew we would end up in Kansas, searching for answers to questions we didn't know we had.

~XxX~

Arthur (April 2, Thursday)

I sat down heavily at my desk with a sigh. Propping my elbows on it, I rested my head in my hands and tried to ebb away my headache. I had less than a minute before my first student would wander in for second period. But, bless it, lunch would be less than an hour later. Sighing, I grabbed my water bottle and wandered out into the hall. Three of my students were already heading to class, talking animatedly about something. "They quit?" Antonio cried, shocked. He was a normally energetic boy anyway, his dark brown hair always messy like he never had time to tend to it in the morning and his green eyes alight with questions. He was tall and lean, but he often looked like he didn't quite fit his height. He gripped his backpack strap in anticipation. "But why would they do that? Alfred and Matthew must know that they're the best on their team!"

The names sparked an interest in me – one that I'd forgotten I had. I paid a little more attention as the kids walked past me and into the room. "Well, sure they do. Why do you think Alfred is so stuck up?" Lovino answered rudely. He was one of the more difficult students in any of my classes – never one to take a simple answer if he had a question. He always stood tall like he was proud of something but he rarely had anything to brag about. His dark hair was never as messy as his friend Antonio's, except for maybe a wild curl. And his golden brown eyes always held a challenge, though he normally didn't like to pick fights. "But the rumor says that they were slacking anyway. Either the instructor would cut them, or they would quit. And, honestly, quitting has more dignity in it."

His brother, Feliciano, agreed hastily, "Sì,sì!" Feliciano looked a lot like his brother yet almost opposite. He almost always looked defeated and sleepy but was always – without fail – energetic and happy. He didn't ask questions, generally. That bothered me because his note-taking skills weren't very good and he could stand to ask a few questions so he'd do better on his tests. Like his brother, his hair wasn't ever messy except for the curl that leapt out on the opposite side of his head than Lovino's. He always stood up straight but not in that challenging way his brother had mastered.

"But Matthew doesn't slack…" Antonio mused, looking thoughtful. I frowned, spinning and marching into the classroom. I had to force myself to slow down as I walked up to the trio who were just sitting at their desks. They looked up at me, rather startled. "Mr. Kirkland?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but who are you talking about?" I inquired as patiently as I possibly could manage.

Feliciano looked surprised. "Alfred F. Jones Anderson and Matthew Williams Anderson from Sidney Lanier High School. They're the greatest high school ballroom dancers this generation! Both placed first and second alternately three years straight in regionals! They got third and fourth when they reached the nationals last year."

"Oh," I whispered, caught off guard. Those were names I hadn't expected to hear again. What were the chances? There had to be other kids in this world with the same names as my children. I covered my mouth with my hand. "Are they brothers then?"

"Twins, I think," Antonio answered distractedly. "Sir, are you okay?"

I didn't respond right away. Disappointment hit harder than I'd expected. Well, my boys weren't twins. Case solved. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry to interrupt; thank-you." I dropped my hand, smiling politely and turned to leave, catching a frown on Lovino's face.

"Those are your boys' names, aren't they?" I looked over my shoulder at Lovino. "My grandfather told me your story once. Didn't they disappear thirteen years ago?"

"Twelve," I corrected tersely and walked back to my desk to recollect myself. It had just been so unexpected, I told myself. The bell rang and I found myself facing the quietest class I'd ever heard in my entire teaching career. I set my water bottle down and went to the whiteboard. "Right then. Does anyone have any questions on the homework?"

X x X

"Something bothering you?" Francis inquired as he sat down at the table that night. He looked concernedly at me while I picked pointlessly at my food. "Amoureux?"

I looked up at him, feeling my eyes glaze over. "Sort of… You know, I heard something odd today…"

Francis stared at me a moment before asking, almost playfully, "Does this have to do with your current condition?"

"'Current condition'…?" I repeated slowly. I knew I should be mad but I couldn't bring myself to be. I shook my head. "I heard certain names today." I set my fork down next to my plate, staring at it. "It threw me. 'Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams.'"

"Qu'est-ce?" Francis choked out, dropping his own fork. "When? Why?"

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Our house had stayed virtually unchanged since out sons' disappearances twelve years ago. The furniture was still placed just right in each room; paintings and pictures never moved from their place on the walls; Alfred and Matthew's room were still the same – untouched with the door always kept shut. Nothing had changed around town either. Alfred and Matthew's names never arose – hardly anyone talking about what had happened. They didn't talk much about how Francis and I were doing, just about our work, mostly. "Some of my students were talking about an Alfred F. Jones Anderson and a Matthew Williams Anderson. Apparently they're twins and are currently the greatest high school ballroom dancers."

Francis lowered his eyes. "Oh…" I nodded, recognizing the same disappointment I'd felt earlier now in my husband. "Those are names I haven't heard in a very long time, it seems." But there was the acceptance that I hadn't been able to grasp yet. Francis got up and wrapped his arms around me as I began to cry. "Oh, mon chère… I'm sure they're okay, wherever they are."

"I just want to know," I sobbed, clutching at Francis's sleeve in a desperate attempt at comfort. "If nothing else than to stop the hope from giving way to disappointment like this…"

We were silent for a few minutes, trying to control ourselves. "I know, I know," Francis finally whispered. "I want the same thing…" We sat there for who knows how long, letting our food get cold and not caring. Eventually, my tears stopped and I just stared blankly ahead of me. "You go watch some TV, oui? I'll do dishes." I nodded weakly as he let go and stepped back. I got up and hugged him.

"I love you," I told him quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He chuckled softly and the mood seemed to lift a little. "Same. I love you, too." I let go, grabbed my glass of water, and headed to the living room. I had no intention of watching television. I had to finish grading some papers first. Then, maybe when I was finished, I could read a little bit. More than likely, Francis and I would end up falling asleep. Tomorrow would be like today never happened. At least, I hoped so.