I want to thank my younger sister Leah for her support and encouragement and Cheshiresapprentice for her kind words that brightened up my day greatly. Please, do not feel shy and review dear reader!


Francis knelt down beside the child who remained still and watchful over him. He didn't look scared but, then again, when had England ever allowed himself to appear frightened (especially of him)? For a child who had travelled almost a thousand years into the future, he was very relaxed around everything and wasn't even wary of the strange new items that surrounded him.

It was highly suspicious. He opened his mouth to speak; to ask where he had came from, why he had came here, and how was he able to, but the child cut across before he could speak.

"You're old," Little Arthur pointed out as he looked from Francis' taller build then to the stubble on his chin, "Really old." It was a different Francis from what he knew; an ugly awful Frenchman that wore dresses and constantly bragged and teased him at every chance he had. His little fingers tightened over the bow he had refused to drop since arriving.

"I see your manners have not changed," Francis said with annoyance lining his words. "C'etait malpoli! I assure you I am as beautiful as ever if not more." Definitely the same Arthur he once knew: even that little scowl was exactly the same. Merde, had England grown up at all? "Don't pull that face, if the wind changes it'll stay that way!" he lectured.

"Too late for you." Little Arthur continued to scowl at him.

So un-cute. Francis frowned at the boy. "Respect your Big Brother!"

"No."

"..."

"..."

The child did not stop his glaring. Francis found himself wishing that he had not bothered answering the phone. He stood up and shrugged of the rudeness as though it didn't hurt him as much as it had. "Très bien," he said, purposely speaking French to annoy the child, as he walked off into the kitchen. Considering that the child had been hiding in the cupboard for some time, he would be hungry. "Petit-dèjeuner?" Francis hated skipping meals.

It made him smirk to know that even Little Arthur knew French, especially if he was right in guessing that this child had came from the 11th Century. Sadly, he made the mistake on turning his back on the child and instantly felt a sharp pain in the back of his head when an arrow hit him. He tugged the arrow out and turned on the child with a new wave of anger over him. No onetouched his hair!

Little Arthur knew he had done wrong for he quickly shot off between Francis' legs, squeezed past the washing machine, and through the dog door before Francis could register what happened. The anger melted away to panic. Francis gave chase after him and fled outside. It was freezing out here now and wrapped his arms around himself as he looked out for any sign of the scallywag.

"Angleterre!" he called out, "Don't scare Big Brother like this! Come back inside and we'll have breakfast! I'll make a fruit salad!"

There was no answer. He expected as much. Ah, Arthur would kill him if anything happened to his younger counterpart. Think, Francis thought to himself, where would the rascal run off too? What were his favourite places to hide? Forest. The child spent a lot of his time hiding in the forests from people. He had made himself an outcast since the moment he arrived on the Earth.

Francis ran over to the fence at the bottom of the garden. There was a field just behind it and further on there was a cluster of trees. The child would not have been fast enough to get there or been able to climb over the fence unless there was a hole he would burrow through (just like a lapin). That meant he was still in the garden somewhere.

As if to confirm his thought, a giggle issued from a nearby bush. Francis sighed in relief and went over to explore. He pulled away the leaves and looked down at the child.

Little Arthur was curled up under the leaves with his hand outstretched and a happy smile upon his face. He was nodding slightly as though he was acknowledging what someone was saying. He then looked up to gaze at Francis with a far more relaxed expression than those typical scowls and glares. He held out his other hand.

"... Oui?" Francis asked, unsure what the child was asking.

"Tinkerbell wants some hair," Little Arthur said seriously.

"Excusez-moi?!"

"She wants your hair for her nests."

Francis absent-mindedly placed his hand upon his hair. No. Francis highly prized his hair and no one was allowed to mess with it. He'll quickly cut down anyone that dared do anything to it (as Prussia found out the hard way when he dared to add food colouring to his shampoo after a nations' meeting). "Tinkerbell?" What a peculiar name. "Where is this friend of yours?"

Little Arthur stared at Francis and then looked back down at his hand that the beautiful fairy was standing upon. Her long pinkish hair was tied back into a ponytail and her light yellow outfit could blend in perfectly with the sunflowers that came in spring. But to Francis, all he could see was an empty hand.

"..." Francis sighed softly. He mentally told himself off for what he was about to say (what kind of Big Brother would he be to crush the imagination of the young?) and then smiled lightly. Their squabble was long forgotten. "And she is almost as beautiful as beautiful as moi! But my hair is very precious." He flipped the blonde locks over his shoulder to prove his point, "But I'll bring over my hairbrush next time for her, oui?"

Little Arthur pouted but he didn't say anything else on the matter. Francis' hair was spared for now. The child shambled to his feet and moved out of the bush. Now there was dirt and leaves tangled in his hair. Francis made note to give the child a bath later (when he was sure that the child wouldn't go berserk and attack him again).

The child ran off across the large garden as fast as his little legs would let him go. Francis slowly followed, giving the child some distance from him in case. Little Arthur was now laughing as he ran. He dashed into the flowerbeds than Arthur tended to (Francis refuse to admit that he have a soft spot for those roses the bloomed through summer) and knelt down in the dry dirt.

Francis slowly approached and knelt down beside the thorny rose bushes. What a cute little smile Arthur had. Why wouldn't the grown up England wear one like that? He might look cuter with it than those angry expressions he wore. But wait - what was that?

The Frenchman blinked and leant in closer. There, sitting just in front of the child, was a tiny decorative house (he could tell England had made it by the painting on the walls). But that wasn't what caused him to stare in alarm. Standing just in the front door was a tiny gnome. Not a statue one, mind you, a living breathing gnome who was speaking in a high-pitched voice to the child.

Francis rubbed his eyes and looked again. "J'hallucine!" he whispered in fright. He sat there too stunned to move. Little Arthur was even shaking the gnome's hand when the two then acknowledged in presence. The gnome squeaked and suddenly vanished into thin air along with his house.

"..." Francis was then aware that his mouth had been hanging open and quickly closed it. Then he exploded into a rant, "WHAT WAS THAT?!" he said in a panicked voice.

Little Arthur smirked faintly as the Frenchman went on. It was amusing to see Francis tug on his hair and he ranted on and on about what he had just seen. But the child's patience soon wore thin with the idiot and he got up to find something else to do. He was just about to plan out an escape that would get him away from here when a hand suddenly seized his arm.

"Bath," Francis said as firmly as he could.

"No!"

"Oui!"

Despite the struggles and yells, Francis picked up Little Arthur and carried him back into the house. He removed the bowl from the sink, cleaned it, and placed in the plug before running the hot water. "If you have a bath like a good little boy then you can have whatever you like for lunch," Francis offered as he placed the child onto the counter and tugged off the thick material robe and cloak.

The thought of having lunch was enough to keep Little Arthur quiet. The child looked down the water. Usually, the child would have gone down to a river and wash himself whilst speaking to the spirits there. Francis picked him up and placed down into the water after adding a little cold water to cool down the temperature. Little Arthur squeaked but did not fight back.

Francis collected soap from the bathroom and then scrubbed Little Arthur squeaky clean. It made the child feel embarrassed but his stomach was now rumbling with hunger.

"You have such a fragile little body..." Francis whispered to himself when he noticed the amount of bruises and scratches on the child's body. "You should take better care of yourself."

"I do," Little Arthur said crossly. He amused himself by creating ripples in the water. The water moved from side to side, occasionally going over the counter and making a mess. "I wash. I hunt."

"Not here you don't." Francis frowned slightly at the water that was splashed over his shirt. Ah, he didn't bring any spare clothing. He would have to borrow clean dry ones from Arthur and that oaf didn't know fashion even if it bit him in the postyrieur. "I'm here to take care of you now, just how a Big Brother should."

Little Arthur looked up at with his big forest green eyes. His little face was scrunched up, trying to tell if Francis was teasing him or not. But when Francis smiled gently at him, the child slowly nodded and looked back at the water that was now a dark brown.

"Zut alors, we should rinse you down now." Francis pulled the plug and then turned on the tap to rinse the child down. When he was spotless, Little Arthur raised his arms in the air in a silent demand on being picked up. Almost flattered by this, Francis picked up the child and took a clean tea towel from the cupboard and wrapped it around him.

Francis held up the tattered outfit and threw it into the bin. "I'll have to see if Angleterre has any left over from the colonies." There was no chance he was letting the child wear that thing again. It was distasteful and worn out. "You remain sitting here," he said firmly as he placed Little Arthur down on the settee and turned on the t.v..

The sight of seeing the fairies on the t.v. made the child nod. His feet stuck out in front of him and he remained wrapped up in the towel. Certain that he wouldn't run away, Francis went upstairs. He knew he should have asked by why would he? Arthur couldn't possibly hide any of his past away since Francis was aware of it all.

The attic ladder was pulled down and Francis went up. He turned on the light and gazed around at the mess. Honestly, did Arthur live up here? Everything was so neatly organised that Francis had the feeling if he moved anything, Arthur would be able to tell. He walked along to the wardrobes and drawers. He pulled on the top and saw little outfits folded inside. He pulled one up in front of him. He recognised that. A certain bespectacled young nation had worn it.

It was the only thing that would fit the three year old downstairs so Francis took a risk and placed it over his arm before closing the drawer. Arthur could not scold him for looking out for the younger England downstairs.

With that in mind, he hurried back downstairs to dress the child. Little Arthur was still gazing at the t.v. in wonder and reaching out his hands to grab hold of the characters that appeared. It was such an adorable sight that Francis had a hard time trying to restrain himself from hugging him again.

"This will do for now," Francis said as he sat down beside him. "I'll take Angleterre's wallet later and we can do some shopping!"

Little Arthur looked up at the laced short and trousers with distaste. "No!"

"I'll buy you a better outfit later!" Francis tried to bargain with him again, "Along with treats, oui?"

"Where did you get that?" A harsh voice said behind them.

The Frenchman flinched and dressed the child as quickly as he could. While Little Arthur looked down at the lace with a little frown, Francis turned back to Arthur. "Did you find anything?" he asked, completely ignoring the question already asked to him.

"No." Arthur said shortly as he went over to the kitchen and took out a couple of painkillers. He swallowed them down without the use of water and then turned on the kettle. "This isn't something that just happens and no amateur will be able to pull it off without serious consequences." No one had been near his magical storage and the only ones who were capable of pulling such a spell off would not have been so pig stupid to do so.

"Consequences?" Francis walked into the kitchen and watched Arthur made a cup of tea. "... What kind of consequences?" he dared to ask. He didn't wish for anything bad to happen to his little Angleterre. Older England, possibly, but to the child... curse his big brother side!

"Physical or mental disturbances," Arthur said in a matter-of-fact tone as he made his cup of tea. "Abnormal behaviour or sickness. It can be anything from mild to deadly."

The French nation pursed his lips before speaking again, "You, umm, him, petit Angleterre is ..."

"What is it exactly?" Arthur said impatiently. He looked over at France with the cup of tea in his hand. It was possible that along the time skip ahead, the child may have hurt himself. Though Arthur didn't feel different, except for the slight headache, the child couldn't be in such a dangerous state. The connection between him and the child must have been frayed because he felt ... different. He couldn't quite place his finger upon it.

"He - you - he is seeing things." Francis struggled with the concepts of having two sides of England here before him, "I knew you were cracked but he is currently running about in the garden and chasing after fairies!" He thought it was best that he left out the bit where he saw the gnome. It was probably a hallucination from all the sudden stress and lack of sleep he had to deal with.

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow at the Frenchman before glancing out of the doorway behind Francis. Indeed, his younger self was now chatting and laughing away but he could no one around. None of the fairies were there and not even his closest friend flying mint bunny was there. That was not normal, even for him. But it wasn't creating a huge effect on him so he brushed it aside. He had a bigger issue at hand to deal with.

"... Just keep him safe." He said flatly as he left the room to return to the basement.