Arthur dreaded watching him walk through the door. His stomach had been entirely in knots ever since Ivan had announced at the last meeting that Francis had it together enough to perhaps make an appearance at the next World Summit. Arthur had not slept for a week, worrying about how he would respond, how he would react to seeing Francis again. After their falling out, neither had called, messaged, or even attempted contact. How could anything positive occur with both of them in the same room?
Matthew was also anxious for the meeting. After the tryst he witnessed, he avoided Ivan like the plague. Only one person knew of what he had seen.
"You don't know if there's anything of consequence between them, Mattie!" Alfred murmured in his ear. "It could be the two of them are just-"
"Just what, Al? Shoving their tongues down each other's throat with the perverse hope that one of them will bite the other's off?" Matthew shuddered in his chair, watching warily as the Russian entered the meeting room and took his chair near the window. "I'm positive that it's something big, eh. If I'm wrong, I'll be your 51st. But, I'm not wrong. I know what I saw, Al, I just don't know what it means!"
The North American twins settled back in their chairs as Ludwig stood and cleared his throat for quiet.
"As many hauv you know," the German began, "ve have been having difficulty keeping ze peace vith ze constant vorry hauver our European bases, friends, und employees involved vith ze current French Civil War." Many of the nations murmured their agreement. "I propose ve settle ze situation via mediation."
"Francis ees not een cont-drol," Antonio said. The Spaniard shook his head, "I am vedy sure talking weet heem would not solve any-ting."
Matthew and Arthur recognized this tactic: Antonio and Ludwig must have conferred before the meeting in order to have a planned presentation. Antonio often played stupid, but both other nations had been close enough to him to know he was fully capable of pulling such a maneuver. Alfred, unfortunately, was not as aware and played right into their hands.
"Who'd ya talk to instead?" he asked. "Francis is France, so he's who we talk to, isn't he?"
"Not in zis case, mein friend," Ludwig said. "Ze parties in question must be made to settle zeir affairs vere zey vill not put innocents in harm's vay."
"You're bloody joking," Arthur said. Other nations turned to look at him, surprised at his outburst. "You aren't seriously implying we bring those psychopathic twins into the same room! That's suicidal! That's like locking Ivan and Natalia in a broom closet!"
The Russian growled from behind his scarf, his mouth hidden and his eyes fixed on Arthur, warning him from mentioning his incestuous, irrational younger sister. Natalia, the incarnation of Belarus, was not a woman that many of their company enjoyed being around.
Antonio gave Arthur a sympathetic look: "Eit-er we do tis now, or eet happens along wit mucho bloodshed."
Arthur threw up his hands, "Fine. Do what you want."
Ludwig gave Arthur a long look, and then pressed the secretarial call button on the landline on the desk before him. "Send zem in."
The nations turned to watch as the door opened.
A tall, slender woman stepped into the room first. She wore her hair short in a messy bob, loose, fair curls tumbling around her thin face and high cheekbones. Her person was very urban and high class; she was dressed high-heels and trim business suit; and her fierce blue eyes were filled with determined light.
Arthur swore quietly to himself: this woman was Joan, back from the dead. All she was missing was knights' armor and a white charger.
Her gaze met his, and she smiled. The fire in her eyes met the ice in her grin and magnified it tenfold. Arthur looked away.
Matthew fidgeted in his chair as Lawrence entered. His own curls were greasy and a mess, a soldier's cap perched on top of the nest of yellow hair. His blue uniform otherwise looked pressed and neat. Matthew swallowed audibly as he caught sight of the rapier hanging at his side, and watched as he went to stand in front of Ivan. He did not miss their too-long-lingering glances.
"Jeanette," Ludwig addressed the woman. "You haupen your arguments first."
"Merci," she said. Without hesitation, she dropped a briefcase on the desk beside her and opened it with a click. She drew out a folder of papers and slapped them beside the briefcase.
Alfred looked at Matt and Arthur, astonishment painted thickly over his face. This was Francis's girl? Very few of the nations ever prepared anything for a presentation so thoroughly that it warranted a locking briefcase and full notation accompaniment.
"My argument is simple. The Federation of Eastern Gaul Territories should be allowed to separate from France. In its separation, the remaining portion of the one-time nation of France will be re-named: the Western French Republic. There will be a ceasefire betwixt our two nations, and in two months' time, an official boundary will be drawn up."
Ludwig looked a little shell-shocked. He obviously had been prepared for a slugfest. He looked to the Frenchman and opened his mouth to speak-
"The Federation of Eastern Gaul Territories wishes to make one amendment to the proposal, dear sister," Lawrence said, cutting through Ludwig's address.
"Oui, frère cher?" Jeanette's gaze was as lethal as her tone.
"The F. E. G. T. will be put under the protection of the Russian Federation as a territory and supplementary state."
"Done."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then all hell broke loose.
Nations jumped from their seats, papers went flying, fists pounded the desks, and the whole room was filled with cries of shock and outrage. Amidst the chaos, Matthew hurried to the door. He ran into the hallway, escaping the palpable noise of the meeting room. Panting, he slid down the wall, his knees to his chest.
His feelings were screaming loud and clear that he had been right, but he still did not know what the new alliance meant for the world. He was certain that where the nations were heading was a place none of them wanted to be.
He looked up at the sound of heeled boots striking the tiled floor of the hallway. Matthew's eyes widened behind his glasses.
"Je vais Accueil, petit ange. Vous avez un travail difficile devant vous, maintenant. Assurez-vous de Qu'angleterre n'obtient pas trop ennuis."
Matthew's lip trembled, and tears slipped down his cheeks. He nodded several times.
"Bon garcon."
The long fingers that brushed his hair from his eyes were skeletally thin and as smooth as silk. It took all of his willpower to watch their owner stride back down the hall. When he disappeared around the corner, Matthew openly wept, knowing he'd never hear that voice again, save for in his dreams.
Translations:
Mein = my
Mucho = much
Merci = thank you
Oui, frère cher? = Yes, dear brother?
Je vais Accueil, petit ange. Vous avez un travail difficile devant vous, maintenant. Assurez-vous de Qu'angleterre n'obtient pas trop ennuis. = I'm going home, little angel. You have a difficult job ahead of you, now. Make sure England does not get into too much trouble.
Bon garcon = good boy
AN: Next, "Going Home" means going farther than one assumes: there is no home for a man without a country.