Chapter 1: Endings

Large cardboard boxes clustered around the small city house. Sitting on the bottom of the staircase, Alfred watched as unnamed men carried the heavy boxes to the van. The lump in his throat swelled up as each box left the house. He took off his glasses and rubbed them clean with the edge of his pyjama bottoms. It was still early in the morning, the streets weren't as busy as usual and Alfred was glad of that. It meant that he didn't have to watch his neighbours whisper about his family's troubles.

"They're still loading up that truck, eh?" a small hushed voice came from behind him.

"Dude!" Alfred snapped to his feet in sheer fright. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart rate slow back down to its normal rhythm.

His younger twin brother, Matthew, stood with his hands behind his back. "I tried to call for you a second ago but you weren't listening to me. I didn't mean to startle you." He pinged a long stray curl that poked out from the top of his head.

Alfred sighed and sat back down on the step. Leisurely, Matthew sat next to him, tucking his knees under his chin. A small noise came from his brother and troublingly Matthew looked up at the dusty blond boy.

"Are you…" Matthew strained his eyes. "Are you crying?"

Surprised, Alfred whipped at his eyes with his fingertips. "No, I'm not," he lied through watery tears. "I'm too cool to cry."

Matthew smiled towards his brother as his own eyes started to mist. His arm went around his shoulders in a comforting manner. "It's okay," he murmured. "I feel like crying too."

Heavy footsteps dragged themselves from the back room towards the two brothers. Both Matthew and Alfred rubbed their wet eyes to look at the man approaching. The blond hair, bushy eye browed man didn't look in their direction nor did he acknowledge their presence. He instead moved towards the small hooks by the door and pulled a dark leather jacket from one of them. He wrapped the jacket under his arm and started to walk towards the door.

"D-da-" Alfred began.

The suited blond man stood just before the main door. "Your father will take you to lunch today, and then he'll drop you off by my office." He finally looked at the boys, the best attempt at a fake smile on his mouth. "I'll see you later."

He quickly turned away from the boys and walked out through the open door, unintentionally slamming it behind him. The harshness of the door slam made the two boys tighten their eyes.

"At least we won't have to eat his terrible food for lunch," Alfred laughed, trying to make light of the situation.

Matthew let out an awkward chuckle at his brother's attempt at a joke. The laughter between the two was hollow and empty.

Outside their house, was a dirty white moving van. Arthur, the suited man, walked past the men who were carrying large stacks of cardboard boxes, without giving them any notice. Despite not knowing them, he hated how they looked, how they dressed, how they were so happy in their labour job. Inside he cursed them all. He spotted two of them laughing about something, their happiness made Arthur stare them down until they took notice and awkwardly went back to work. He hastily got into his car and drove out of the driveway.

Leaving the two boys pained his already sorrowful heart. He gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove away from his appealing little broken home. However, there was a small part of him which never wanted to drive back there, knowing what awaited him – or more what no longer did await him.

Francis looked up at the clock. It was nearing seven am, Arthur would be heading to work about now. A sickly feeling set itself inside his gut and he prepared himself to leave. He patted his pockets checking that he had both his keys and wallet. Grabbing his cell phone he punched in some numbers and pressed the sleek black block to his ear.

"Hola, Francis," said a strong voice from the other line.

"It was merely to check that you were still free for this morning?" he asked.

"Si," chimed the voice. "Gilbert and myself will fix your place right up! No problemo!"

Francis sighed and took a step towards a small mirror which hung just by his apartment door. "Merci, mon ami," he said, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I'll give you a call when we're all done," he said happily.

"Yes sure." Francis ran his hand through his sleek blond hair. He took notice to the tiredness in his eyes and grumbled.

"Enjoy your lunch," said the cheery voice.

"Oui," groaned Francis. "Au revoir."

With a heavy grumble in the back of his throat he thrusted the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Using his fingers, he combed his hair and headed out the door with a heavy hearted sigh. He took the stairs down the main door of the building – since the elevator was being repaired.

Entering the parking lot, Francis gave a slight nod to one of his neighbours who was heading to work.

"Mornin'," cheerily said his neighbour.

Francis got into his car, not having enough energy to engage into small talk with his neighbour. It was almost summer time and the inside of his car was hot enough to make him break out in a sweat. He rolled down his front seat window and started to drive towards his old home.

Matthew was still pulling on a fresh shirt when Francis rang the doorbell. The moving van had left around ten minutes ago, leaving the twins alone in their eerily quiet house.

"Alfred! Matthew!" called Francis from outside. "C'est votre pére. Open up!" He rang the doorbell again.

"Alfred! Door!" called Matthew from his room. There was no answer so Matthew called to his brother louder than before.

Impatiently, Francis began pressing the doorbell non-stop. For a second he thought breaking down the door. He knew Arthur was at work as he spotted his car missing from the drive way. While the twins were old enough to be left at home alone, that still didn't stop the worried feeling which was settling in his gut. He was just about to break down the door when a huffing Matthew unlocked it.

"Sorry, papa," said Matthew.

"What took so long?" asked Francis, taking a step into the house. "You had me worried, Matthew. Did you not hear me yelling?"

"I was in the middle of getting dressed," he informed his father, closing the door behind him.

Francis stood awkwardly in the hallway. He felt unwelcomed in his old home, despite Arthur not being present.

"Where is your brother?" he asked the teenager.

"In his room I think." Matthew started to head back up the stairs. "I'll go get him then."

Matthew knocked on his brother's door; he let himself in when nothing but silence came from his bedroom. Alfred was sitting on his bed, his nose deep into a comic book with a super-size packet chips by his side. Matthew said his name but Alfred acted as if he didn't exist. Slightly louder, and more irritated, Matthew called for his brother again. Matthew took a step into his brother's room and noticed a faint rhythm, emanating from Alfred. Black strings flowed outwards from his ears. Rolling his eyes, Matthew went to his brother's side and yanked out an earphone.

"What the hell, bro?" snapped Alfred.

Before Alfred could say anymore Matthew quickly spoke up. "Papa is here. Are you ready to go?"

Alfred adjusted his glasses and set down his comic book. He stared up at his twin with a bright glint of annoyance in his eyes.

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I'm ready."

The twins closely walked together back down the stairs back to where Matthew left Francis. Watching his two boys pace down the stairs with such solemn emotions hanging from their faces made his heart shatter. He hated seeing them like this and hated himself even more knowing that he was one of the main reasons for their sorrow. Trying to counter their emotions, Francis pulled a huge grin on his face and zoomed to his children.

"Why such long faces?" he said happily, as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Don't be so glum! After all, Papa Francis is taking you out for lunch." He gave them both a cheeky wink. "Plus, the two of you get a sneaky little day from school."

For the sake of their father the two boys put on a polite happy smile. With their father's poor excuse for a happy smile, the reality of their parents' divorce finally began to set in. Francis let go of their shoulders and started to walk out of the house, with the boys treading along behind them.

"So how is your new apartment coming along?" Matthew asked awkwardly as they headed for the car.

"It's great! I almost forgot how fun living alone could be," he said, sliding into the driver's seat and buckling into his seatbelt. "It means that I can basically strut around naked and have no one scold me."

"Papa!" yelled both of the boys, strapping into their own seatbelts in the back seat.

Francis used the rear-view mirror to look at the boys and laugh. "Oh, you boys hurt your dear papa. I thought I had taught you not to be prude." He winked at them through the mirror. "You two act just like-"

He cut himself off, knowing that any mention of Arthur would only hurt the boy's, already delicate, feelings.

"You can mention him you know?" said Alfred through the awkwardness. "Don't just act as if he doesn't exist."

"Alfred," sighed Francis heavily, as he turned the key into the ignition. "I know this is hard on you two." He drove out and into the street. "But, for a while it'll be awkward for both your father and I to even talk even about each other. Prepare yourself for that."

Matthew looked worryingly at his brother who was staring longingly out of the window.

"Even before you two got divorced you were always weird," Alfred murmured.

Francis griped the steering wheel tightly. Matthew seen the anger grow inside his father and feared an augments erupting between them. However, no argument came. Instead Francis just let Alfred's snide comment pass over him. He knew he was angry but felt that scolding the boy would accomplish nothing but more resentment to fester within Alfred.

Arthur pulled up the police tape allowing him access to the narrow ally way. He thought about how unusually cheery the weather was considering the crime scene he was about to inspect.

It was a young girl. Arthur recognized the school uniform as it had the same logo of the school both his sons went to.

"What kind of sonofabitch would do this?" he muttered, keeling down beside the girl.

There was several gash wounds all over her body. The main one which made Arthur's stomach turn was the thick pus-filled wound across her neck. Defence bruises were up and down her arm, there was also one yellow bruise on her cheek. He took a mental note of each mark which decorated her small, slender, milky body.

"It is horrific," said his partner, who stood behind him.

He looked behind him at the shoulder-length brown haired man. He took out his note pad and began to write things down in it. Arthur looked around the crime scene. After having his job for almost five years his eyes were sharp enough to spot any clues in almost any crime scene.

"It looks like she was just dumped here." He pulled out a glove from his pocket and pulled it onto his right hand. He noticed small traces of blood seeping from her eyes and he went to open them. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Her eyes have been gorged out, Toris."

"Really?" said Toris, surprised. "What a strange thing to do."

A man dressed in a police uniform went up to the two. "Have you got all the information you need?" he asked, clearly sounding irritated.

Arthur snapped back to his feet. "Yes," he bit back. "Could you make sure the post-mortem report is sent to me as soon as possible?"

"Of course," the officer said, taking a small glance at the young highschooler. "Sick bastards."

He turned away and went back through the police tape. Arthur watched the officer leave and gave Toris a gesture to follow him back out the allyway. The two men left the girl to be slumped ungraciously into a body bag. After all the years in his job, Arthur never got used to seeing young people in body bags.

Every time he had to watch someone's son or daughter dead somewhere his mind immediately raced to his own children. At times he would wake up in a cold sweat previously dreaming about Alfred or Matthew being stone cold dead in one of those black zip bags. The dreams still haunted him but now he could no longer share his nightmares with his partner. Instead every time he woke up an empty bed would greet him.

A/N:

Firstly, I would like to point out that I am rather new to the hetalia fandom. I have done my very best to try and keep each and every character as canon as possible. Secondly, while I do write original content this is the first time I have written a fanfiction since I was around 13 (I'm currently 18 – 20 as of the latest edit below) so I've had to dust off some cobwebs for this. Thirdly, while this is rated M for mature do not expect a lot of smut. However, do expect graphic scenes such as the one above. Lastly, the FACE family is completely under-rated!

From the bottom of my heart I thank you for reading.

Edit 19/06/16: Fixed a few grammar issues and took out a few lines here and there. From this date I won't be posting a lot until I have edited all the chapters. This shouldn't take long and each edit will be posted for each chapter.