AN: So this was planned as a possible three chapter thing, but I ended up not finding the time to get more done, so at the moment I've left it as one longish piece. If you enjoy and I get the inspiration, I'm thinking of adding another; maybe I'll unite FACE once again! Much love, and thank you to all you lovely people who favourites, followed and reviewed to my latest stuff - VIRTUAL HUGS AND COOKIES FOR YOU ALL! 3
DISCLAIMER: Hetalia c'est... not mine... My French is terrible ahahah
In amongst the crowded platform, two blonde heads stood out in the never ending sea of black and grey. A father and his son stood pressed against a soot-covered wall, waiting for the train to arrive. Arthur Kirkland griped his sons hand tightly as waves of parents and children rush past them, almost crushing the poor boy. He glanced down at him, heart swelling with pride and a little sadness too. Alfred stood upright, inquisitive eyes darting around the platform and a brave grin plastered on his tiny face. Dressed his his Sunday best, with his hair clean as it could be and those sky blue eyes he was easily the most handsome on the platform - at least to Arthur he was. They had spoken at length about what was happening; Britain was at war, and for Alfred to be safe, he should go away for a bit.
"It won't be for long," Arthur reminded him as they made their way to the station. The young boy, who had only just turned six, smiled up at his father and nodded.
"Yeah! I'm gonna go have a holiday and when I come back, it'll all be okay!" The optimism had made Arthur smile, despite the tightening in his heart. There was more than one reason for Alfred being sent away. Being the healthy 28 year old he was, Arthur was needed on the front line. With his wife long gone and no family available to care for Alfred, the safest solution was evacuation. It was for the best Arthur knew, Alfred would be safe, but that wasn't what worried him. Nor was it war - he was ready to fight. He would proudly stand for his country, even die for it - but there was one thing he feared of death; the idea of leaving Alfred without a father. Arthur hadn't told Alfred that he'd be fighting, only that he too would be sent away for some time. He prayed for his son's sake that he made it back too.
When the train finally pulled into the station, Arthur bent down to Alfred's height. Green eyes met blue and Arthur smiled as best he could.
"Are you ready?" he asked, as his fingers absently re-buttoned Alfred's coat. Alfred nodded, staring back into his fathers eyes. He had fallen unusually silent, and Arthur was about to ask what was wrong when the small boy suddenly launched himself into his arms. Alfred buried himself in Arthur's chest, little fingers scrabbling on the warm, familiar feeling of his jumper. Arthur, bewildered at first, melted - as did the lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his son as tightly as he could. He barely noticed his own tears over the sound of Alfred's sniffles.
Arthur would have given anything for them to stay like that, for his arms to be enough to protect the precious child he held in his arms. His heart ached to pull away, but if he didn't, they never would. He took a breath to compose himself, regaining the small smile he had mastered over the past few days.
"It won't be forever Alfie...I'll be coming to collect you before you know it." Alfred let out one last muffled sob and looked up. "P-Promise?" Arthur nodded, pressing a kiss to Alfred'd head. "Cross my heart," he smiled, running a finger over his chest. It seemed to please Alfred, who smiled back at him.
"But you have to promise me, you'll be a big brave boy now? And you make sure to be nice to whoever you live with, yes?" Alfred nodded, treating Arthur to one of his best smiles. "Cross my heart!" With a chuckle, Arthur pulled himself up, scooping Alfred's case up too. Looping their hands together, the small Kirkland duo made their way to the train. Arthur watched as other parents waved teary goodbye's and children of all ages scrambled to find a place on the train. A teacher who was assisting a class of second year students onto the train smiled at him. She smiled at Arthur when he caught sight of Alfred, who, despite his promise, still looked rather wary of the huge train.
"Would you like to sit with us, young man?" she asked, receiving a grateful smile from Arthur. Alfred turned to the woman, peering nervously at the line of children with her. They looked nice. He glanced at his father who gave him a nod. "If you want to..."
For a few seconds, Alfred paused until a whistle startled them all. Te train was ready to go now, as the last remaining evacuees boarded. Prompted by the noise, Alfred nodded.
"Lovely! How about we find you someone - Ivan? Ivan, sweetie, would you sit with Alfred on the train?" The small child regarded Alfred cooly with violet eyes, before a slow smile enveloped his face. "Alfred. Yes, I''ll sit with you." Alfred's smile grew too as the boy stepped forward, putting a mitten-covered hand on his shoulder.
Having made a new friend, Alfred seemed happier to board the train, and before long the train was ready to leave. Arthur stood back, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck as it began to move. Eyes searched the cabins hungrily for his son, and his heart lifted to see him poke his head from a window, Ivan squashed up with him. He looked happy. As the train gathered speed, he found his father amongst the crowd and waved energetically, and Arthur raised his hand back. He gave Arthur one last grin before the train vanished from sight, leaving Arthur with the heaviest heart in the world.
It was for the best though... wasn't it?
Alfred had found that by wrapping his coat up on top of his case, he could make an almost-comfortable seat for himself. It had been a long day, up at six and out for eight and it left him exhausted. His legs could hardly support him he was so worn out; both mentally and physically. He missed his father, he missed his house, his bed. He already missed the city, with it's constant hum of life and chatter. Even during a raid, there was some comforting sound, be it his Arthur's warm voice singing him to sleep or the quiet conversation of the nice couple sitting with them in the shelter.
Now he sat in a church hall, in a small village somewhere in the British countryside, tired, hungry and lonely. The teacher had sadly waved goodbye when her class left for a school building, while Alfred was left standing with other children in the hall.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since his arrival in the village, but he did notice a distinct lack of noise now. Lifting his head from where it was held in his hands, he glanced around the room. There were only a few children still here. He had watched for a while, as men, women and families had wandered in, picking up children and taking them out. He watched the pretty girls go, the strong looking boys and the cute-as-a-button toddlers. He had been off in the corner, daydreaming so not many people spotted him.
Something swirled in his stomach when he saw another woman come in and he watched a boy about his age being swept off to a new home. Why not him? Was he not good enough? What if nobody came for him? He had become so entangled in his fears that he didn't notice two new shadows enter the hall.
Francis Bonnefoy was a 27 year old Frenchman, who had moved to England to be closer to his son - Matthew. When news broke of the batch of evacuees had finally arrived, he had looked over at his 7 year old son and smiled.
"Matthieu? What would you think of 'aving one of them stay with us? They could 'ave the spare room... what do you think?" His quiet son had looked up over his book and thought for a second.
"I... I guess it wouldn't be too bad..." That had settled it, and so that evening they had arrived at the hall (much later than expected because Matthew simply had to finish his book first) just as the sun began to set.
Alfred watched as the pair walked in, his head peering over his fingers. They looked nice, not that he could see much more than their silhouettes. As they moved closer, the light form the hall lit their faces and Alfred saw a kind looking man glancing around the room, while a boy around his height stared intently at... him?
This was his chance! He snapped upright, his hands moving to reveal a grin for the boy. The boy looked puzzled, until Alfred waved at him, and he waved back, the corners of his lips turing up too. The boy tugged on who Alfred guessed was his father's hand, pointing in his direction. His heart suddenly raced, as the man followed the boys gzae to where Alfred was smiling sweetly up form his case.
After a second, the man too grinned, and they walked over to where Alfred sat.
"Bonjour, little one - what is your name?" His accent was unusual to say the least, but he remembered his promise to Arthur that he'd be nice, so he kept quiet about it.
"Alfred, sir! Alfred F. Kirkland!" He said, sanding and offering out his hand like Arthur had taught him. The man chuckled, and took his hand, shaking it gently.
"I am Francis Bonnefoy, and this is my son-"
"Matthew," the boy interrupted, giving Alfred another wave. Alfred smiled. "Bonnefoy? That's an interesting name."
Francis smiled, something he did a lot it seemed. "It's French, mon petit, do you like it?"
Alfred thought then nodded energetically. "Yeah, it's pretty cool - not as awesome as Kirkland though!"
He was rewarded with another laugh and a hand on his head as Francis ruffled his hair, making it stick up even more. "If you say so Alfred. So, 'ow would you like to come with us, eh? You can 'ave the spare bedroom..."
If Alfred's grin grew any more, Francis feared his face would split, the size of his grin. The boy seemed to positively shine with happiness at the thought of living with them.
"Oh, sir! I'd love to! Thank you!"
It was fifteen minutes later that the trio were leaving the hall, headed down the winding road towards Mr. Bonnefoy's house, that Alfred realised that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had thought.