Yo! Hikou no Kokoro here, bringing you another chapter. Finally, we are out of the (official) preliminary chapters and onto when the intensity really rises and with it, the pace gets faster. Unfortunately, this chapter is the last of my reserves since I couldn't make it this time around. So after this, the updating will be going off of how quickly I can finish writing each chapter. But ah, nevermind about that.

So enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot.


To Create Perfection

"I always thought a yard was three feet, then I started mowing the lawn."
—C.E. Cowman

"Law 2: Preludes, Part 3"

The words were like a pang of reality—a boulder falling from a cliff and smashing the sole victim below. Arthur hesitated, eyes as wide as Matthew's. He glanced towards Francis, who was still muttering phrases under his breath and didn't seem to notice anything, and then back at Matthew. Arthur opened his mouth, but no words formed. He glanced towards Francis again.

"I… I must go. Excuse me."

Matthew seemed to sigh. His shoulders sagged and his head nodded slowly. Then he let go.

Arthur scampered up to Francis. He arrived there just as his mentor was finishing up his quiet conversation.

"… his stomach was growling, but he insisted that he wasn't hungry," Edelstein said.

"… I'll see what I can do then."

With that, the two doctors finished their conversation. They straightened up, one smiling and the other looking quite satisfied with the outcome. The latter nodded curtly and pushed his glasses up closer to his eyes. "I am glad I can trust you," he said.

"Don't worry, mon chéri!" Francis stuffed his hands into his pockets and then pulled out a notepad and a pencil, waggling them in front of Edelstein with a wink. "I'll make sure to keep you updated."

Edelstein's expression of satisfaction turned sour and he scowled. "Don't be a fool. Now, don't forget to check on IT-606 while you're there, and change Antonio's band to purple if you see anything alarming. I don't want to do anything I have assigned you."

Francis waved dismissively. "Of course, of course." Without glancing at his protégé, he stepped out of the room. "Let's go, Arthur."

Arthur hesitated for a moment. He was tempted to look back, but he thought better of it. Edelstein was already out of the room, heading in another direction. And, even though Francis was walking slowly, his back was still turned towards Arthur as if Francis was fully prepared to leave the intern behind. So Arthur chased after his mentor and the door slid close behind him. When he fell into step beside Francis, Arthur looked left at the blond man. He considered asking a question that had pressed itself to him since he heard AM-1245 and CA-520's names, but he didn't want to. Yet, he still wanted to know. Instead, he hoped that Francis would say something. Then Arthur wouldn't have to think about it. But when Arthur wanted and even expected Francis to make worthless chit-chat, Francis was silent, making small notes on his notepad and not bothering to look up even to avoid obstacles, which he somehow managed to weave around anyway.

Arthur opened his mouth. He paused then closed his mouth again.

"Is something the matter?" Francis asked. He glanced up as they came to an intersection in the corridors and pointed to the left.

"Uh, yeah." Arthur took the left turn. But Francis grabbed his shoulder and guided him to the right.

"Then what is it?" Francis pocketed his notebook and opened the door for the stairs labelled "Fire Escape."

"Uh, wait! I had meant nothing was wrong." Arthur held the door open, eyebrows inching together. Francis was walking up the stairs. Glancing the other way, Arthur followed.

"Are you sure?" They climbed two flights and reached another metal door. A large "2" was spray painted upon the surface.

"Of course I am!"

Francis stopped and turned towards Arthur, hand on the doorknob and an eyebrow arced. Then he looked away and opened the door. "Fine. Any questions then?"

Arthur opened his mouth. But he thought better of it. "I've been wondering about those band colours," he said instead, following Francis out into the hallway.

"Oh, they're nothing much, really. They just tell the health status of the patient. For example, green is for patients who don't have many conditions, like you and me. And the next colour up is blue for those who display cold-like symptoms."

"So… Where are yellow, red and purple on the spectrum?"

Francis stopped. Arthur, unwittingly, slowed down until he halted beside Francis. The elder man was still looking ahead, his hands inside his lab coat pockets. "The spectrum is divided into three parts: little to no care needed, moderate care needed, and extreme care needed. Yellow is the transition band from moderate care to extreme care. Red is in the extreme care. Purple… Purple is not part of the main spectrum."

Arthur tilted his head, giving Francis a bewildered expression. "Then why does Antonio need a purple band?"

A hand slammed on the top of Arthur's head and twisted. "Eavesdropping, weren't you, Arthur?" Francis said through light chuckles. "Where did your courtesy go, huh? I should reprimand such insubordination!"

"I was being courteous!" Arthur fumed, glaring at Francis and swatting Francis' hand away. His face was turning red. "It wasn't my fault that Dr. Edelstein had shouted it out to the world! I was being the perfect gentleman!"

Francis grinned and stuck his hands into his pockets. "Sure, sure, you were." Then, he began to slow down, turning to the left and pulling out his ID card again. They stopped beside another door, not unlike all the other doors they have seen. The only difference was the little plate that said "Room 60." And like the appearance of the door, Francis went through the same routine to open it: Slide the card, punch in some random code, and watch the red lights stream from the door before it slid into the wall.

The room on the other side was almost exactly the same as the other patients'—Alfred's and Matthew's—but mostly atmosphere- and light-wise, it seemed to have all the essentials: two cabinets, two beds, two nightstands, a chair, and a bathroom, although this one was a stall rather than a separate room. However, this room was more like a square, and it was significantly larger, so things were arranged differently. Two windows, instead of one, made holes in the furthest wall, standing side-by-side above two beds with nightstands and IV drips beside them. And off to the side were the cabinets and counters lining the walls, taking up the majority of the space of the room since they were facing each other in three rows, creating a walk-in closet feel. But besides that, there was nothing else in the room, and it didn't seem to be any different from the other hospital rooms Arthur had been to. Well, that was so except for the occupants themselves. Upon seeing them, Arthur felt like his stomach had dropped down four flights of stairs. One of occupants was sitting upon a bed, curled up toes curling over the end of the mattress and fingers clutching the metal frame. He was intently staring at the other bed, where another man lied under thick, light blue blankets with head covered in a mass of curly, brown hair poking out. That man seemed to be fast asleep. And Arthur recognised both of them. They were the same Lovino and Antonio Arthur had bumped into only a day before.

"Oh, it's the French bastard and his blondie friend," Lovino hissed. A ferocious scowl traced over his face as he glared at the two. "What do ya bastards want?"

Francis slowly entered the room and Arthur followed just as the door slid closed. Something like an attempt at a disarming smile was plastered upon his face, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "We're just here for a brief check-up." Lovino's glare hardened, but Francis continued. "Don't worry. There won't be anything major. I'm just acting on Edelstein's precautions."

Lovino scoffed. "Fine." He scooted himself toward the nightstand and slammed open the drawer. There was a sound of something sifting around before he took out a brown, hardcover book about 10 centimetres thick. "Oy! Tomato bastard, wake up!" Then he whipped the book across the room; the thing flew through the air and landed with a painful thunk against Antonio's head, flittering closed after tumbling onto the ground.

The body shifted and buried his head underneath the pillow and a long groan emanated from underneath the fabric. "Lovino, just five more minutes, por favor."

"No! Get up, you bastard! You said that 16 hours ago! Get up! Your buddy doctor is here!"

Antonio groaned again and crawled out from under the pillow and blankets and looked up at Francis, blinking blearily. His green eyes were unfocused, dilated as if he had been using some drugs. Then a large, stupid grin crept onto his face and he laughed. It was a stupid laugh, one characteristic of a fool. "Hola, Francis! How're you?" he asked, slurring to the point that he sounded like he had only spoken one long, outstretched word. Then he slowly turned his head and stared at Arthur. A moment of utter silence dragged itself through the room and then, suddenly, Antonio burst out laughing again. "Hey! I haven't seen that girlie before. Is she your girlfriend, Francis?"

Francis snickered as Arthur fumed with lips pressed into a thin line as he trembled to keep his temper in check. Even Lovino seemed to find this amusing for he snorted.

"She's a pretty one," Antonio continued, unaware of the reactions around him. He started to slip back into bed again, bringing the blankets up to his chin. "It's a pity though; God must not have given her breasts. She looks awfully flat."

Arthur could hear Francis sputter beside him. And that was the last straw. "I'm no bloody girl!" he screamed out to the world, only getting louder laughs around him. At this point, Francis was doubling over, hand over his mouth, trying desperately to hide the tell-tale sounds of his snickers.

"So, what's your name, Niña Hermosa?"

"Are you bloody blind and deaf?"

"Settle down, Arthur. Settle down," Francis struggled to say between quick gasps, patting Arthur's shoulder. He wiped some tears from his eyes. "Mon ami, this is no girl. This is Arthur, and the last time he checked, he was one hundred per cent man. He's my new intern."

Antonio frowned. His head tilted to the side and he stared up at Arthur with slowly drooping eyes. "Huh… I was wondering why she wasn't dressed prettily…"

Arthur was beginning to calm down, shimmering in his hot temper as he glared at Antonio. He had no idea what was going on inside the Spaniard's strange head, but he sure knew that he didn't like it. Suddenly, he heard Francis take a sharp, shaky breath. Arthur whipped around and glared, expecting Francis to still be struggling to contain laughter. However, Francis seemed to have already gathered himself, his hand going over his face. Nevertheless, remnants of the ridicule remained; a despicable smirk was still on his face.

"All right, joke's over." Francis rubbed one of his eyes. He must have been wiping a tear. Then he took out his notepad and two pens again, ripped out a clean sheet and handed the page and a black pen to Arthur. "I'd like you to take care of Lovino while I go check on Antonio." Francis and Arthur could see Lovino's sudden scowl. "Please examine his hands for any new bruises or cuts, and please check his arms too. You'll have to do some re-bandaging. Please record any observations you make, and report to me immediately if you see any recent injuries."

Arthur nodded slowly, taking the writing utensil and the little sheet of paper.

Francis patted Arthur's shoulder and winked. "So you think you're up to the task, Arthurette?"

"I'm not a bloody girl! How many times do I have to say that?" Arthur screamed. His feet slammed downwards, attempting to stomp on Francis' foot. Unfortunately, Francis had skipped away and Arthur merely hit the ground like a child with a tantrum. So with a growl and a frown, Arthur marched up to Lovino, who only gave a disapproving glare and a grimace as Arthur approached, further fouling the intern's mood.

Without any courteous words that could possibly soothe his relationship with Lovino, Arthur plopped down onto the bed and barked out his demand, "Give me your hands."

Lovino crossed his arms across his chest. "Why should I? You never apologised for yesterday."

"This again?"

Lovino turned away with a huff, nose pointed up and his eyes closed.

Arthur let out a long sigh. He had wished that Antonio and Lovino would drop the incident from the day before. It seemed that Antonio had easily dropped it when he thought Arthur was a woman, but that seemed not to be the case for Lovino. With a growl, Arthur spat, "Fine. I apologise for my earlier behaviour."

The brown-haired boy peered from one eyelid. "And?"

One of Arthur's eyebrows twitched. "And I have learnt not to block the hallways." The words came out a low, offended growl. He hated bowing down to such an arrogant brat, but he did want to complete what was assigned to him by his superior. And he much preferred if his patient was compliant.

"Good enough. Bastard."

Then Lovino held out his hands and the examination went on in a tense silence. What Arthur ended up seeing was nothing he had expected. Scars were scattered all over Lovino's hands, drawing jagged lines and dots up and down and around his fingers and palms. Strange, pale markings dotted the back of his hands, where Arthur could clearly see the blood vessels popping up around the knuckles. And the skin that wrapped tightly around thin muscle was dry, almost scaly to the touch, but nothing that some lotion couldn't solve. Arthur wrote that down; he figured Francis would like to know about that. But what really threw Arthur of were Lovino's fingertips. The boy had no fingerprints. Arthur stared for a moment, alarmed. Hesitantly, he picked up his pen again. He figured that the note would be old news to Francis, but he wrote it down anyway. Afterwards, he moved onto looking at Lovino's arms.

Throughout the whole time, Arthur could hear Antonio's and Francis' conversation behind them. They talked like old friends and were relatively loud too, as if they didn't care that two other people could easily listen to them through the silence. Arthur tried to block out their voices, not meaning to eavesdrop, but he couldn't seem to help himself when Antonio's and Francis' voices were the only ones talking.

"Do you remember getting angry at anybody yesterday?" That was Francis. Accompanying his words were a few clicks and a shrill beep.

"Angry? When was I angry? Did something happen?" There was another click.

"Uh, no, not really." Another shrill beep. And then the sound of something whirling, like a fan's panels. "But do you remember meeting any new people?"

"Of course! I'm always meeting new people!"

"Well, I mean, particularly a blond man with green eyes. A bit shorter than you are. Wearing a suit. You met him when Lovino was yelling at him. Ring any bells?" A few more clicks.

"No… Was Lovino being rude?"

The sound of pen scratching against paper.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," was Francis' response.

"Okay."

Lovino's scowl deepened and his eyes pointed downwards. For a moment, Arthur's stomach clenched, but he said nothing. Slowly, he began to unwrap the bandages, careful to leave the IV needle in place. The arms, in general, seemed fine. Old wounds ran up and down Lovino's forearms, and a few marks and scars covered the rest of his skin. But they seemed to be healing nicely—no infections, no puss, no blood, nothing alarming. There was a large bruise on his right arm near the elbow, but it appeared old, turning a faint yellow shade. So Arthur didn't bother to note that down.

Finally, Arthur stood up, spotting a roll of bandages on the nightstand. He reached out and retrieved it and then began to rewrap Lovino's arms, making sure they appeared to be the same a moment before.

"Antonio, I have heard that you aren't eating enough." It was Francis again. His voice was raised, almost purposefully to allow everybody else to hear. Lovino sagged.

"What? I've been eating enough. I'm not hungry." The words became increasingly slurred and quiet.

Lovino grumbled something, but Arthur couldn't hear because he was much more focused on making sure the bandages were secure and comfortable.

"Don't lie to me. I'm conducting an examination. Do you actually think that I can't interpret the numbers?"

Antonio said nothing.

Francis sighed. "Look, I'm not going to force you to do anything. But at this rate, your condition will deteriorate and then we'll have to take a replacement.

Lovino took a sharp breath. His eyes were wide and he was holding his breath. Arthur looked up at Lovino's face, but he didn't know how to interpret it.

"And Lovino is the only possible replace—"

A loud crash resounded. Antonio shouted and Francis grunted as something hit the ground with a painful thump and clatter. Immediately, Lovino looked up and Arthur leapt onto his feet, eyes wide at the scene before him. Portable medical instruments were scattered across the room, and Antonio's blue blankets were slipping off the bed and onto the floor. The IV stand was leaning, dragged down by a taut IV tube. The two men were on the floor: Francis was on his back, looking up with dazed, blue eyes with his hands on Antonio's forearms and a thumb pressing against the IV needle; Antonio was on top of Francis, his hands curling around Francis' collar as Antonio shook the blond.

"Don't you ever think of doing that!" Antonio demanded, voice clicking with sharp articulation. His mouth was pulled into a ferocious frown and anger flickered in the green eyes. "You heces will never touch Lovino! Never!"

Arthur raised his hand to slam down on the call button.

"Stop!"

And Arthur froze. He looked at the two men on the floor, frightened by his own hesitation.

Francis gasped, blinking tears and confusion from his eyes. "Antonio, I apologise for saying that. I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't right of me," he sputtered.

Antonio's eyelids began to droop and his grip loosened. But suddenly, he snapped back into full attention, clenching his fists tighter around the white and blue clothes.

"Look, I don't want to pull Lovino into this either. But I might have to." Francis gulped, calming himself to speak more clearly. "So just eat more. It will be better for you and Lovino, and we won't need to replace you with him. Okay?"

Antonio's green eyes softened. Slowly, his hands let go of Francis' coat. "Fine."

The blond man smiled. "Good. Now let's get back up, shall we?"

"And go back to sleep…"

And Antonio collapsed. Francis shot an arm out, catching the tipping IV stand and Antonio. Luckily, Francis was already underneath Antonio so catching him was easy, and Francis managed to hold the stand before it could clatter to the floor. Peering over his forehead at Arthur, Francis asked, with a simper, "Hey, mind helping here?"

Arthur scowled. "And you say that I get into trouble?" he snapped, walking over and slipping his arms underneath Antonio and pulling the unconscious man up. Antonio seemed to be abnormally light, but with what Francis and Edelstein had said, Arthur was not that surprised. Quickly, Francis scrambled onto his feet as well to help, righting the IV stand back up, but Arthur handled himself well and managed to push Antonio back into bed without much assistance.

From there, Francis took over, adjusting Antonio so the man would be tucked in and comfortable. "Lovino, I trust you to take care of Antonio, right?" he called, pulling on the pillow so the cushion would be under Antonio's head rather than underneath his back. Then he reached down and pulled the blankets back over Antonio's body.

"Whatever."

"Good. And you'll make sure to call immediately if something is wrong?"

Lovino jumped onto his bed. The springs creaked underneath his weight. "What do you think you are? My mum?"

"Of course not. Of course not." Francis hurriedly began to pick up all the instruments off the floor, shoving them into his pockets as he went along. Arthur took that as a cue to help as well, so he grabbed as many things as possible before handing them back to Francis. When Arthur picked up the piece of paper, two pens, and Francis' notepad, Francis only took his own notepad and told Arthur to keep the rest, so the intern slipped those into his own pockets. Without another word, Francis led Arthur out the door.

Arthur glanced back. Lovino was glaring at their backs, arms crossed over his chest. The last thing Arthur saw was Lovino scrambling onto his feet as the door slid closed. Then Arthur turned to look ahead again.

A hand grabbed Arthur's shoulder, and he stopped. Francis leant towards the intern, whispering with a hissing voice into the boy's ear, "Don't pull a stunt like that."

Arthur blinked, confusion washing over his face. "Pull what?" he blurted.

Francis pushed Arthur to continue walking. "What I just did. I don't want you acting on my example."

A frown stretched across Arthur's face, and he looked to the right at Francis. "What? Why?"

Blue eyes glanced at Arthur. Evident frustration flashed over Francis' face, but was pushed aside as Francis leant over again, hand still resting on Arthur's shoulder. "Don't push Antonio, and don't lose your temper around either him or Lovino. I know it will be hard for you and they will try your patience, but you won't be able to handle Antonio effectively, and I don't want you to be—"

Arthur pushed Francis aside, anger boiling red like his face. "Are you saying I'm incompetent?" he exclaimed loud enough for several heads to turn to their direction.

Francis sighed, shaking his head. "No, I never said that. I merely said you won't have the ability to deal with Antonio, and I don't want you to accept any assignments involving him or Lovino. They are too dangerous for you to handle without my supervision—"

"Oh, so you are saying I'm incompetent."

"No, I never said that. I just said that you don't have the ability—"

"That's synonymous with incompetence!" Arthur fumed, his hands curling into fists.

"Fine, I'm saying that you're incompetent then. But I want you to listen to me—"

Arthur threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "That's all I have been doing around you! Watching and listening! And then suddenly you call me incompetent? Well, of course I would seem to be if you don't let me do anything!"

Francis clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. "That's because of the situation right now—"

"Oh, so what's the bloody situation then? Pray tell."

"That's confidential information," Francis replied, voice flat.

"More confidential information!" Arthur screamed. People around them started to file away, getting as far away from the scene that Francis seemed to be desperately trying to control but failing. "So what can I do then? Given in this confidential situation?"

Francis bit his lip, pausing for a moment. Then he fished his notepad out, flipped it to the latest page, and handed it to Arthur. "I want you to calculate TFG using the Fundamental Beilschmidt Method of Statistics. DE should be u, C should be x, WFR should be y, and this number—" he pointed at a number written beside a word created by symbols from some foreign language "—should be your v, using Level 4 and Level 7 versions with the k as 8.765. I want you to do the method at least three times to check for mistakes, and then send you answer from my tablet in my desk to Edelstein. If Level 4 turns out to be between 765.98 and 986, send Ludwig a message to tell him to change ES-606's band to yellow. However, if Level 7 turns out to be lower than 2, then request a purple band for ES-606." Francis slipped the notepad into Arthur's hand and patted the intern's shoulder. "I am sure you will complete this with shining accuracy."

Arthur's scowl deepened. Francis was obviously trying to humour him by giving such a minor task; however, Arthur knew that it was much better than what Francis had given him earlier. So Arthur took it, glancing over the numbers. "So what does TFG, DE, C, WFR mean?"

Francis' smile disappeared. "That's also confidential information."

Arthur threw the notepad to the ground. "Again? It's always confidential information with you! You never answer my questions!"

Francis wavered, swaying slightly. "I do."

"Fine! Then tell me, what experimental series are Antonio and Lovino in?"

"Confidential."

"What did you give Matthew? The red liquid? What was that and what does it do?"

"Confidential."

Arthur growled. "Fine then. Then answer my most important question: How well do you treat your patients?"

Francis paused, then shook his head. "I cannot answer that—"

"See? You never answer my questions! You're bloody hiding something, aren't you?" Arthur glared down at Francis, gritting his teeth in frustration. Francis did not answer. Instead, he just stood there, holding himself up like some sort of soldier under inspection. His expression was painfully flat and revealed nothing that Arthur could read. Suddenly, an idea hit Arthur, and it hurt him. "You know what? I see what's going on," he said, voice lowering in volume but increasing in intensity. "They're human weapons, aren't they? Alfred and Matthew?"

Francis sucked in a sharp breath.

Arthur pointed. "Ah-hah! I should have known! I should have known right when Matthew asked me to save them! You're creating weapons of war out of children! And Antonio and Lovino are both part of that and that's why they're 'dangerous'!"

"No, you don't understand," Francis replied quietly.

"I understand full well!"

"No, you don't. You see, it's my jurisdiction and they are—"

"Oh! So your jurisdiction is human weapons! You specialise in creating murderers out of children!"

"No, you don't understand. Arthur, let me explain—"

"I understand completely," Arthur snapped. He bent and picked up the notepad from the floor. "I understand completely that I absolutely loathe working with you." He could hear Francis take another sharp breath and shift his feet. Then Arthur waved the notepad in from of Francis' face, talking in a plain, painfully indifferent tone, "I will finish what you assigned me, and I am done. I may be seeing you tomorrow. Possibly." Then he turned and walked away.

Francis paused for a moment, wavering between decisions. Suddenly, he took a step forward in the direction where Arthur went, but he stopped. With shaking hands, Francis reached behind his head and brought the hand into his line of vision. Then he sighed, turned, and walked in the opposite direction. He needed to find his doctor.

Meanwhile, Arthur was in Francis' office. He had finished all the calculations, and checked everything about five times, making sure he had followed Francis' direction to the exact number. In the end, the answer when he used the Level 4 method was over 10,000, shooting far higher than the range Francis had specified. And Level 7 method—that answer was no better. The statistic was almost negligible, closing into 0 and creeping into the negative. The numbers made Arthur's heart clench in the most uncomfortable way. He didn't know what they actually meant, but he knew quite well that they weren't normal, and he feared that Francis knew that they weren't.

Hesitantly, Arthur retrieved the electronic tablet sitting on a pile of cosmetics in the top drawer of Francis' desk. The technology wasn't on, so Arthur flipped the switch on the edge. The screen immediately flooded with colours and swirls, shaping the words "Hello, Dr. Francis Bonnefoy" with beautiful calligraphy. Then a message box popped up, prompting Arthur to type in a password. The intern frowned. Francis never told him about a password. And to make matters worse, the symbols on the keypad were nothing that Arthur was able to interpret. However, they were oddly familiar; in fact, they were the same things as what Arthur had seen on Francis' notepad as a label for the number he used for v. On impulse, Arthur typed that in. In a split moment, the box disappeared and another message box appeared, flashing the screen from black to bright blue. This box said, in white letters, "Welcome back, Dr. Bonnefoy. You have 349 new messages." Arthur blinked, surprised. Then he flicked the screen, and the box disappeared and an interface of a messaging system slid in. The latest message was two years old and was from Dr. Roderick Edelstein, who was asking if Francis had gotten a report. Obviously, Francis didn't reply, and Arthur was not going to reply for him.

But curiosity tugged on Arthur's mind. He was tempted to open Francis' messages and scan them. He wanted all his questions answered, especially to the ones Francis had only replied with, "Confidential information." However, hesitation got the best of him. In the end, he didn't want to know anything Francis was doing; they were probably all disgusting anyway. So Arthur sent a brief message to Ludwig requesting a purple hospital band for "ES-606," put the tablet away, and walked out the door. Arthur didn't bother to look back.