…

January

…

Francis tried to put on the best smile he could, but honestly, things were becoming stressful. He had to start getting his house ready for Arthur and Alfred, and the work was making him a bit irritable. Lain was also helping him, which meant that he had an extra hand, but the Scotsman did have a short fuse, and was hard to work with, which made Francis even more irritable.

But, it was Arthur that stressed him out the most. Although stronger everyday, the Brit's emotions were all over the place. Happy, calm, composed, angry, sad, confused… It was almost like he was at war with himself, and Francis prayed that it wasn't brain damage and Arthur was just having trouble coping.

But, Francis could deal with stress, he had been through worse, and he could get through this. So, he visited Arthur everyday, just like he had done for over three years.

He stepped into the hospital room and shut the door quietly. He immediately went to walk over to the bed until he realized that it was empty. Confused, he scanned the room and saw Arthur looking out the window in a wheelchair. Francis smiled at the sight, knowing that this was a milestone.

He forcibly dropped his smile when Arthur turned his chair around to face him, "Afternoon, Love."

Francis scowled, "Oh, great, you're mobile now."

"Yep," Arthur gave an evil look, "Can't run from me now."

Francis wanted to tease more, but he couldn't hold his smile back for long. He walked over, grabbed the small bedside chair on his way by, and sat himself in front of his Englishman. Arthur wore a big grin and his emerald eyes were bright and full with life. Francis sighed contently, "Well, you look happy."

"Happy to be out of the bed." Arthur let out a frustrated breath, "I just wish I could get out of here. I feel so cooped up."

Francis chuckled, "Just a few more weeks, Mon Cher, then you'll be out of here."

"A few more weeks?" Arthur rubbed his eyes under his glasses, "I think I'll go insane by then."

"Oh, c'mon, Arthur," Francis said in a reassuring tone that quickly turned into teasing, "We all know that you're already insane."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Right, I forgot."

There was a long silence while Francis pondered about what to say next, when he thought of an idea, "Let's play Questions. You go first!"

Arthur seemed thrown, but went along with it, "Oh, okay…" He glanced away and hummed in thought before looking back at Francis, "What is one thing that happened that you're glad I wasn't there for?"

The question surprised Francis, and it took him awhile to find his answer, but when he did, he let out a loud chuckle, "Well, there was this one time where I slipped on some ice and I almost knocked myself out."

Arthur returned the chuckle, "Oh, that would have be hilarious. You're turn."

Francis took a pause, but he didn't have to think much, "Do you remember anything else from your coma?"

"No," Arthur responded quickly, his grin falling, "Why do you ask?"

Francis shrugged, "I just found it interesting." He looked up as he thought of a different question, one that didn't revolve around the coma, as he was pretty sick of the topic. "If you could take me anywhere in the world, where would you take me?" He finally asked.

Although Arthur rolled his eyes, his smile returned, "What a sappy question."

Francis pointed at his partner playfully, "You still have to answer it."

"Well," Arthur started in thought, "Probably London, if you haven't been there already."

"I took a train through London, so technically, I did."

Arthur looked off, as if visualizing something, "I could take you to the London Eye, and the Towers, and Buckingham Palace-" Arthur suddenly cut himself off and looked at Francis in excitement, "Oh! We could go to-to-oh, God, I can't remember the name of it, but it's this really great history museum! I've never been there, but there isn't one bad review!"

Francis smiled, even through all of this, his Blacksheep still loved history, "Maybe we can go on holiday there sometime."

Arthur nodded eagerly, "What about me? Where would you take me?"

"France." Francis said, without missing a beat.

Arthur's expression of excitement turned to fear, "No, I can't go across the channel."

Francis tilted his head, "Why not?"

"Well...I...Um…" Arthur suddenly looked embarrassed, "I can't swim."

"Well, after you get your strength back-" Francis started.

Arthur interrupted, "No, I mean… I've never been able to."

Francis laughed harder than he probably should have, "But you live on an island nation!"

Arthur's lowed his head, the expression of embarrassment deepening, "I know."

Francis started to feel bad for laughing, so he forced himself to calm down, "Oh, Mon Chéri," He said affectionately, "We could just take the chunnel."

"But, what if the ceiling caves in?" Arthur asked, looking more fearful than before.

"I promise you it won't," Francis reassured, "But afterwards, we can walk the streets of Paris!"

"Well, that does sound pleasant," Arthur confessed, but then suddenly scowled, "But if the ceiling does give out, then I'm blaming you!"

Francis threw his hands up in surrender, "Alright, then you can kick my ass while we're in the afterlife."

"Agreed. Then I'll just-" Arthur cut himself off with a horrified gasp as he looked at his left hand.

"What? What's wrong?"

Arthur looked up to him with tears in his eyes, "Where is my wedding ring?"

Francis immediately deflated in relief for worst-case-scenarios had been playing in his head, "Since you lost so much weight, we were afraid that it might fall off and get lost, so Lain has it somewhere safe."

Arthur sounded heartbroken, "But I need it, i-it's my wedding ring."

Francis nodded, "I know, but you are still so much underweight, maybe you should wait until it fits better."

Arthur said nothing, but continued to stare at his own, boney hand.

Francis understood. The only reason he took his off is so people wouldn't ask him questions while going through the process of adopting Matthew. But, Arthur was so loyal to Kate, and it made his heart sink a bit. What if Arthur can't get past this barrier and their relationship never works out?

"You know what?" Arthur said abruptly, "I don't need it anymore."

Francis looked at the Englishman quizzically, "Really?"

Arthur shrugged, "Well, I've been awake since November, and I just now noticed that it was missing… And I get the feeling that it's beginning to bother you."

Francis shook his head, "No, don't worry about me. It's not my ring."

Arthur smiled, "It's okay, Francis. I don't think I'll ever get rid of it, but I'm ready to keep it off."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." Francis added.

Arthur looked as if he was going to say something, but Francis' phone went off, indicating that Francis had to leave. Francis sighed, took out his phone and shut off the alarm on it, "I have to pick up Matthew from school."

Arthur nodded in understanding before smiling again, "So I guess that this game ended in a tie?"

"Oui," Francis said as he stood, "We'll pick it up tomorrow." He bended down and gave Arthur a quick kiss, "Au revoir."

"Goodbye."

Francis straightened his posture and went to walk out the door when he heard Arthur call out to him, "Francis?"

Francis turned, his hand still on the doorknob, "Oui, Mon Cher?"

Arthur looked desperate, "I know that sometimes I seem attached to Kate, but… I love you… So much."

Francis smiled at the sweet words, but he took the chance to tease, "I know, it's impossible not to love me!"

Arthur scowled, "I try to say something nice and-"

Francis cut him off, "I know you love me, Mon Cher, and you know I understand your grief. I love you, too."

When Arthur smiled in a reply, Francis gave him a wink as he stepped out the door.

…

…

It was the little things that made Arthur feel better.

At first, Arthur could only hear voices… At the time, the words went over his head without his brain processing them, but if he thought hard now, he could remember what they said. It was always nice things like, "Hello", "Merry Christmas", and "I love you", but, in time, they grew sad and exhausted. "Hello" became "Hey, it's me again", and "I love you" became "I miss you". Eventually, the voices begged him, "Wake up, Arthur"... "Please, Daddy I miss you"... "Come back, I don't know how much longer I can take this."

Arthur wasn't sure what woke him, but he did finally feel himself come out of a heavy sleep and into a strange, hazy doze. He couldn't remember if he saw or heard anything when he first entered consciousness. The only thing he could recall was how heavy his eyelids felt, and how hard it was to keep them open. Time seemed to go on forever as he tried and failed to stay awake.

The first full memory he had was short. People were above and around him, but he didn't know who they were, and he couldn't understand their words. Time passed as he slept, and the memory seemed to repeat itself everytime he woke, but with different people. Each one of them spoke to him, and although he didn't comprehend what they said, their voices were always kind and gentle.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, he could understand what they were saying. Arthur didn't know why, but he liked listening to them, and quickly realized that every time they left, they would come back and tell him more stories. He didn't know who these people were, but they were nice and didn't seem to mind that Arthur couldn't say anything back. He liked their visits, and would feel joy whenever one would walk in, and become sad when they left. Looking back, Arthur realized that was the first time he felt emotion.

People came and went, and Arthur began to memorize his visitors. One man came very frequently. He wore a white coat and had brown hair.

"I'm Doctor Ralph." He would always say with a bright smile. Doctor Ralph repeated this every time, and because of the repetition, Arthur could actually remember his name.

There was another man with long hair that visited very often. His smile was bright, and his voice was smooth and soothing. The sweet man would always run his fingers through Arthur's hair as he held his hand, which often lulled Arthur to sleep. After a while, Arthur felt like there was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't figure it out.

The first person he recognized was his older brother. The man with bright red hair and wild green eyes had visited many times and told him stories, but one time, the man greeted him and Arthur finally made the connection.

Lain was always good at reading people, and must have seen the recognition in Arthur's eyes. Arthur could remember his brother smiling. It was crooked, hopeful, and mischievous, but it suited him. While pondering the memory, Arthur felt like his brother should smile more.

"You know who I am don't ya, Artie?" Lain had said.

Arthur couldn't give a straight answer, but he did manage to curl his lips in an attempt to replicate the Scot's smile.

"Daddy! Daddy! Do you know who I am?"

Daddy? Arthur could never recall anyone ever calling him that, but he looked over instinctively at the name. On his other side was Alfred, his son.

"Yeah, he does," Lain said in excitement, "You can see it in his eyes."

Arthur's concept of time got better, and it was, what he would guess a few days later. Alfred wasn't doing well, and was in the middle of a breakdown. Furious tears rolled down the young boy's cheeks as he tried unsuccessfully to cope with everything that was happening. Lain had tried to calm him, but, although very protective, Lain was never good at comforting.

It broke Arthur's heart to see his son in so much distress, he had to do something. Finally, Arthur opened his mouth and choked out, "Alfred."

Alfred looked from his uncle to Arthur in surprise before running up to the bed, grabbing Arthur's hand in both of his, and crying into the mattress. Arthur, for his part, could barely move, but he did manage to rub his thumb across his son's knuckles.

It didn't take long for him to become self-conscious of his own speech. It was hard to talk, but Arthur tried his best to enunciate, and he thought hard about his responses, hoping that they would come out as something close to a sentence. In time, this job got easier and easier.

He liked this stage of recovery. He was better everyday, and the people around him were so happy, and so was he. But, then, he started making more connections.

Lain is my older brother who lives in Scotland. He is very nice now, but every recent memory of him is sour. Alfred is also always with Lain, but Alfred lives in England with me. But, if Lain lives in Scotland, and Alfred lives in England, then why are they always together? And if I live with Alfred, why does he leave? More importantly, why does Alfred look so much older?

It didn't take Arthur long to realize that he wasn't home, and that he was in the hospital. But he couldn't remember why. He was suddenly aware how hard it was to move. He panicked and began to cry. All his memories were scattered, and he couldn't make sense of his surroundings.

The bad news turned everything around. In the end, three years of his life were gone, he was legally blind and wheelchair bound. His mind didn't think the same, and wouldn't make the same connections as it once did, leaving him forgetful, self-critical, and impulsive. At times, he didn't even feel like himself anymore.

And, to top it all off, he took a reflex test, which he basically flunked.

It was the little things that made Arthur feel worse.

…

…

Everything was set up. All of Arthur's things were moved into Francis' house and now they had to wait until Arthur was ready to leave the hospital, which was only a week or so away. Arthur felt like he should be excited and counting down the days like a little boy looking forward to his birthday, but he wasn't. Sure, he felt cooped-up, but his life inside the hospital was complicated enough. He was scared and depressed, and since that life-shattering night when he hit his head too hard on his steering wheel, the fight to keep his composure was difficult.

Arthur sat in his wheelchair at the window, his head down with silent tears rolling down his cheeks and falling onto his sweatpants. He desperately tried to gather himself, but he couldn't, so he prayed that no one would come into his room. Unfortunately, the door opened.

Arthur hoped that it was Doctor Ralph, that would be less embarrassing, but much to his dismay, a voice hinted with a Scottish accent proved him wrong.

"Oi, just thought I'd stop by before heading home. Alfie is all moved in with Francis, he was very excited."

Arthur picked up his head, but did not turn to look at his brother. Eventually, Lain made his way over to him and let out a sigh when he saw the tears. Arthur heard the Scot pace over and drag a chair over to him.

"What's wrong?" Lain said as he sat down and held out the tissue box.

Arthur only put his head in his head and began to cry softly.

Lain didn't do anything at first, which wasn't surprising since he was terrible at comforting. After a few moments, he leaned forward and rubbed Arthur's shoulder gently, "Arthur," He said awkwardly, "Take a few deep breaths, I can't help until I know what's wrong."

Arthur tried his best to follow the orders, but even though he was able to reduce his crying, his breath stilled quivered, "I don't feel well."

Lain seemed thrown off, "What? You feel sick?"

Arthur shook his head, "No. I just… Don't feel like myself."

Lain nodded and paused in thought, "You know, you don't seem as different as you might feel."

"That doesn't matter," Arthur sighed, trying to even his breath, "It's just…"

"I ran into Lukas last week."

Arthur knew that Lain couldn't comfort, but he didn't think he would just give up. So, he simply looked at his brother as if he had gone insane.

"And I asked him about the small changes that I had noticed…"

Arthur nodded in understanding, realizing the reason why Lain had brought it up.

Lain continued, "And he said that they seem mild, and may be reversed with some help."

"Help?" Arthur echoed.

Lain smiled sarcastically, "Yes, Artie, help. You know, what normal people seek when they have problems?"

Arthur glared at his brother. What a hypocrite, Lain was more prideful than Arthur was, and had probably never asked for help in his adult life. As much as Arthur would love to point that out, he decided to stay on the subject, "I meant, what type of help, twat."

Lain hesitated seemingly to decide whether or not to ignore the insult, "I mean from a therapist or counselor."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Sure, he was confused, but it wasn't like he was mentally unstable. "No." He said irritably.

Lain closed his eyes briefly, "Arthur, could you just let go of your pride enough to consider this?"

"Why?" Arthur snapped.

"Because Doctor Ralph and your physical therapist can only do so much," Lain explained, "A counselor can help you cope and get around some of the mental barriers you're having trouble with."

Arthur looked off in thought. It made a lot of sense, and frankly, he wasn't even sure why he was so prideful about it. Thousands of people go to therapists for help, in fact, in this day and age, it wasn't uncommon to meet someone who did. So, why was it so embarrassing? He never knew why, but he always hated receiving help, it was something that all his brothers shared with him.

"Arthur." He looked back to his brother as the Scot continued, apparently he had been quiet for too long, "It broke me to see you in a bed for three years. I'd hate to see you turn down a chance of recovery like this."

Arthur nodded, "I'll think about it."

Lain raised his eyebrows, "Promise?"

"I promise." He said with a reassuring smile.

Lain smiled back and stood, "Alright, I have to head home before it gets too late."

"Okay. When will you be back?"

Lain glanced at the ceiling in thought, "Tomorrow? Maybe? I don't know. I'll tell Francis tomorrow, he sees you everyday anyway."

"Okay." Arthur sighed.

"You want me to help you into bed before I leave?"

"Um," Arthur glanced at the clock and looked back to his brother, "No, Doctor Ralph will be here soon to check on me anyway."

"Alright," Lain patted Arthur's shoulder affectionately, "I'll see you on Tuesday at the latest."

Arthur smiled lightly, "Goodbye. Drive safe."

Lain walked past him and to the door, "Bye. I will."

Arthur was left alone to ponder over the advice he was given, only for his mind to space out into nothing.

…

…

…

…

Translations:

Mon Chéri: (French)- Honey

(I think that's the only one I have, if I missed one, tell me.)

Other Notes:

Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I had to cut it off here for the story to flow better. I also feel like this was a weaker chapter. Probably because I sick of writing hospital scenes. No worries, Arthur will be out of the hospital in the next one, so I promise the next chapter will be better!

Spoiler Alert: Gilbert is going to be in the next chapter. (It will be awesome)

Also, sorry for not updating, life happened, but I'm back now. Updates will be slower than they used to be due to college.

I want to thank you for the reviews, and more than that, I have gotten offers for help and I really appreciate your willingness to help! However, I will respectfully decline. I know that I have grammar errors here and there, but I enjoy going back and correcting myself and improving. Thanks again so much for your offers!