Disclaimer: Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=


Chapter Twelve

You Are Still Mine Forever

"I never thought that anyone who loved me could hurt me. Abuse is very subtle. Abusers are very subtle. Abusers are very charming."

- Hedda Nussbaum


To say the next few hours were awkward would be an understatement. France held me for what seemed like ages, until I came to grips with myself and pushed him away. For once, he didn't fight or chase me, and sat frozen in the corner as I huddled under the blankets of the makeshift bed. It was childish, but with the blankets cocooning me, I felt protected from him. Protected from myself.

After a good ten minutes, I heard France get up. My blood quickened and my heart beat in my chest as I heard his footsteps near me. He wouldn't take advantage of me, would he? He wouldn't get mad, confuse me, or anything else he was so good at, right? I felt like crying all over again, and when his fingers lightly touched my shoulder, I couldn't help but flinch and bury myself further in the blankets.

"Sesel…" He sighed and I heard him leave. I was alone, and a plan to escape immediately formed. I was half out of the bed before I could even think, only to hear the click on the lock from the other side, followed by France instructing someone – probably soldiers – that no one was allowed in or out. I was to be kept in, and "Si quelqu'un essayait d'obtenir dans cette salle... leur tirer dessus." They were ordered to shoot anyone who came in.

My blood ran cold, matching the icy monotone of France's voice. His voice and footsteps faded away quickly after that, and I was completely alone in the dimly lit room. The only way out was through that door, and though I could easily unlock it from this side, who knows how many guards were on the other end? Armed guards, who were put there to keep me in.

I looked around, willing myself to stay calm. There had to be something, anything, that I could do. Something France had overlooked in all this haste… something that could get me out of all these confusing memories and back to what I knew best. Running away.

My eyes fell on France's bags, and I found my answer. I scrambled to them, cursing myself for making so much noise in doing so, and pulled open the bag as quietly as I could. Inside was clothing, papers, personal effects (I ignored most of it, and pushed aside everything that was so much France that it made my chest ache), but no weapons. Not that I'd expected that; France wasn't stupid enough to leave me around loaded weapons or knives, especially after my escape with Italy from the Alliance.

He did seem to forget a small radio stuffed into the bottom of the bag, though.

I snatched it up and frantically messed with the dial. Spain said something earlier: "Inglaterra". I didn't know Spanish, but it sounded a lot like the French "Angleterre", which I did know. England. If he was coming this way, if he was chasing after us, then maybe I could get a hold of him.

If only I knew the frequency…

Something clicked in my head, and my eyes widened. Spain mentioned Italy too, and another plan formed. Switzerland had a radio, and had used it to contact Austria while leading us to Berlin. Feeling adrenaline pumping freely through me – who knows how long I had until France came back? – I quickly punched Switzerland's frequency.

"Switzerland, Switzerland," I said in a hushed whisper, eyes glued to the door.

For a moment there was nothing, then I heard the faintest, "Wh… helles?"

I bit my lip. It was so quiet that I could barely hear anything, so I threw everything back into the bag, closed it, and crept back into bed, covering myself before risking turning the radio up just a bit. I held it hard against the side of my head to hear him, and took a deep breath before answering, "France… I mean, the French Empire… I overheard Spain talking to him, and I think England's coming."

"Vhat? Vhy vould 'e come 'ere?" Austria must have taken the radio away, and his accent seemed thicker than usual. The stress, probably.

I clutched the radio in both hands, sweating in fear of being caught, "I… I don't kn-know, it's just…"

"Seyche, vhere are you?" My heart leapt at the sound of Germany's voice. He was awake, lucid, and most of all alive.

"I… I don't know…" I winced. When France took me, I hadn't been in the right state of mind to pay attention, "Somewhere in Berlin?"

"So Frankreich hasn't left yet…" Germany muttered.

"I… I think we will soon," I said, pulling the blankets over my head for a better barrier against… I wasn't quite sure.

Then I heard footsteps, and France's muffled voice on the other side of the door. Germany was trying to talk to me, but I couldn't concentrate anymore. I had to hurry, and gripped the radio tighter, "Listen. Get out of here. Try and find England or someone from the Alliance. France'll take me to Paris, and…" In my heightened state, I could hear the doorknob turn, "Bye!"

"Seych-"

I flipped the radio off and stuffed it under the pillows. The door creaked open almost at the same time, and I made a show of curling up like I just heard him coming. France came in, silent, and followed by two more people.

"Ay, Seychelles," Someone shook my shoulder, and I recognized the voice as Spain.

I curled up under the blankets even more and drew them tighter around me. I didn't want to face France. I didn't, I didn't…

"Victoria…" His touch was light on my shoulder, and France squeezed it just a bit as he leaned over me, "It's time to go, mon amour."

I felt those warm, fuzzy feelings break through the fear, and I was ashamed. I shouldn't feel like this. I shouldn't be this weak. Why? Why did I let him effect me like this? And why couldn't I just stop feeling this way? It hurt so much…

I sobbed once, and was in France's arms. He held me tightly and I couldn't help but cry. My chest felt tight, and it only escalated when France dismissed Spain and we were alone.

"Ma chérie…" France hummed a tune and rubbed my back, trying to calm me down. How nice and tender he was being only made me cry harder. Telling myself that this wasn't France was hard. That this was the French Empire, France with the Insanity, whatever people called him.

It was hard, but as I remembered how angry France had gotten when I lied to him, it wasn't impossible. My head cleared, and I pushed away as far as he would let me – which wasn't much – to look him in the eyes. I gritted my teeth at the bombardment of emotions. Hatred, love, fear, longing, sadness, disgust… and those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, so expressive and so much France.

So France, that they were dark and wild with Insanity.

"Fr… Francis…" I choked out, my face screwed up as I fought back more tears.

He smiled, tilting his head just so and brushing my tears away with his thumb, "Hey, Sesel… do not cry, ma chérie. I'm here, and it's time to go home, okay?"

Couldn't he see that him being here was what made me cry and tore me apart? "Francis, could I… have a minute, please?"

"Bien sûr," he slowly pulled back, his hands sliding down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shivered, and his smile widened. France turned and left, but not before blowing a kiss and saying, "Just come out when you're ready, mon amour."

Once the door closed, I snatched the radio from under the pillows and quietly unzipped France's bag. I threw one last glance at the door before stuffing it to the bottom and closing the bag. I sat on my knees next to it, my hands frozen on the bag, and a single tear fell.

I was lost now, and there was no going back.

My hands balled into tight fists and I stood. I wiped my face free of tears before walking to the door. My hand was on the knob, my breath quickened, and I hesitated. My eyes slid closed and I took a deep breath. I had to be strong. I was a nation, and I had to act strong, just like France and England taught me.

I stood straight, eyes ahead, and opened the door. France stood there, surrounded by Empire soldiers, with a wide smile. I smiled right back, covering all the negative feelings with a mask. Running and surviving was what I was good at, and if pretending France wasn't ripping me apart with his mere presence would keep me alive, then that's what I'd do.

I had to try and save him. Without that, I had no hope.

"Sesel, shall we?" France held out a hand, and I took it without argument. We left the crumbling building the French Empire was using as a base. Berlin outside hadn't changed, and rubble and fallen buildings were everywhere. Soldiers stuck close to us, and I clung to France's side as he led me through the rubble. I wouldn't look at him, because I didn't want another breakdown, and we came out to a small break in all the rubble. Just enough for some army trucks and jeeps.

I hesitated a bit, but France's grip tightened and he led me to one of the trucks. He climbed in the back, to the confusion of the soldiers and I, but he only smiled and pulled me in after him. None of the soldiers followed, and he closed the back. It was just the two of us, and France wouldn't let me go.

The truck started up and we were off. All I could hear was the sounds of the truck and it bounced over rubble. The ride was bumpy, and France held me against his chest. I didn't fight, I didn't move, and I didn't say a word. I had to be strong and wait for my chance. There was no escaping, I knew, but I had to try and help him. Help France to remember how good everything was before the war, and get him to stop.

"Victoria…" After an hour of driving, France leaned down and nuzzled the top of my head. I tensed, but my body betrayed me and relaxed under his touch, "About before…"

"I know," … that you've lost your mind. I didn't say the rest, or it would set him off again.

France sighed into my hair, "I just… I want everything so… so badly, mon cher." His arms tightened, and for now he was France. The French Empire side – the Insane side – was gone for now, "Ça fait mal. It hurts, Sesel, to have everyone so far away. All I wanted was to be together with everyone. Merde, Sesel…" He buried his head in the side of my neck, and I blinked back tears. No more of those. I wouldn't cry anymore.

Then he laughed bitterly, "I used to think Russia was crazy, wanting everyone to become 'one with Russia' and all. But now…" France sighed again, and it tickled the side of my neck.

"Francis, I-"

"I understand him now… and that's what I want."


It was dark when we stopped for the night. The convoy was small, and in the morning a cargo plane would arrive to take France and I to Paris, while the rest returned to Berlin and headed for Russia. I didn't know where we were, except that we just left the colossal ruins. That was probably why a plane didn't come in Berlin; the ruins were so twisted and thick that there was nowhere for one to land.

France and I sat together in a rundown building. He still refused to let me go, always holding my hand or tightly against his chest. Soldiers came and went, and rations were brought for us.

"It is not my cooking, Sesel… but it will do until Paris, no?" France chuckled as he opened his, "Wine, soupe à l'oignon, bread… maybe oysters. I remember how much you loved oysters, mon amour."

"Wi, Francis…" Oysters were one of my favorites, and no one made them better than France. I found myself picturing them, picturing the food and France standing over the stove with his hair in a small ponytail, singing to himself as he cooked. It was an art to him, and I loved watching France cook.

"Come here, Sesel."

"Non non, ma chérie; you mix it in like this, and be sure to watch the heat!"

"Mon dieu, what am I going to do with you? It says a cup of sugar, not salt."

I leaned against him, "Oui, I would like that… a lot." Believe, Seychelles. I had to believe I could fix this, and we could go back to those days. I had to, I had to, I-

BOOM.

France scrambled to his feet, and I had to catch myself from falling. Were we under attack? Who was it? The convoy was small, as to not attract notice until the plane came, so chances were low that the Alliance came across us. Especially since they weren't out here in the No-Man's-Land of Germany.

Wait.

England.

I jumped to my feet as France tore the door open. Spain was there, gun in hand, and he tossed another to the French Empire leader, "We've got problems, mi amigo. I don't know how they found us in all this rubble so damn fast, but-"

"Angleterre?" France growled, and Spain's nod confirmed my suspicions. England had come after us, and now found me. How did they know where to go? The only ones who knew where I was were Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, and the four of them were escaping. Had England found them, and they told him about my capture? If they were found by the Alliance, then Germany…

Germany could survive.

It took more willpower than I knew I had to stop myself from shouting in joy. France had spilled over into his ruthless side the moment the fighting started outside, and the Insanity took him over. If I did something now, then he might snap. Self preservation is a very powerful instinct.

"Sesel, stay," France ordered, "Spain, station guards around the building. No one goes in except me."

"Bien, Francia," Spain nodded, his face hard and mouth set in a line. All business, "And you, mi amigo?"

"I won't let him take her away again," France pushed passed Spain and vanished in the fighting outside.

"NO!" I leapt for the door, but Spain jerked it closed before I could get to it. Frantic to get out, I pulled on the doorknob as hard as I could, but Spain somehow managed to jam it on the other side. The only window was blocked by debris, and all I could hear were gunshots outside. France's explosive anger, the way he said that… I knew what he was going to do.

France was going to kill England himself.

I couldn't let him. England was like a brother to me, or a mentor. He taught me so much, just like France, and I didn't want to see either of them get hurt. Especially by each other.

"Laissez-moi sortir! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi sortir!" I screamed, pounding on the other side of the door, "S'il vous plait!" I whipped around wildly, pulling at the door and looking for an escape.

There was none, and all I heard was the fighting outside. I was trapped, like so long ago in the closet, and there was nothing I can do.

"Non, Francis…" I sobbed, pounding on the door once before sliding down it, "Silvouple…" They couldn't. Not France and England. If they fought, one would die. There was nothing that could stop them if that happened.

"Non…" The fighting waged on, but I didn't care. France and England were all I cared about right now. I couldn't let them fight, or I would see one of them die.

Why am I so helpless? So weak?

The gunfire reached the destroyed building that had become my prison, and I scrambled away from the door to where our untouched rations laid. Fighting, shouts in so many languages, and gunfire were all I heard as I curled up with my head in my knees. Fear gripped my heart, and I knew there was nothing I could do now.

My head snapped up when the doorknob was shot clean off. I screamed when it was kicked open, only to have it die on my throat when I saw England.

"Seychelles!" His eyes widened when I threw myself at him.

"Arthur," I hugged him tightly, relieved and fearful at the same time. If he was here, then France hadn't found him yet. Then again, it meant that France was still looking for him. My eyes widened and I looked up in alarm, "We need to go. France is looking for you, and he-"

"I know, I know Seychelles," England shushed me, turning to address the few men with him as they fought back soldiers before going on, "I came after you, you stupid girl. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I… I…"

"We found Italy with Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, and they told me you let yourself be captured as a diversion," He gripped my shoulders and held me back at arm's length, and I could see both relief and rage in his eyes, "Seychelles, you're the one he's after most! Sure, he's been searching for all the nations important to him too, like Italy, but none of them are as important as you! Goddammit, Victoria, Germany told me what he'll do-"

"Arthur!" I tore away from him. He didn't understand; we needed to get out of here now before France came back, "We have to go, now!"

"Seychelles, you don't understand-"

"No, you don't!" I shrieked before grabbing England's empty hand (the other had a pistol) and pulling him out.

Outside was chaos. Gunfire flew, soldiers fought, and I for the life of me couldn't tell who were Alliance and who were French Empire. Both groups were small, and I dragged England through the battles, keeping my head low and sticking to the sparse concrete rubble. I didn't know where to go, except away from here.

Away from France.

"Angleterre!" England's hand was torn from mine when he froze. I stopped and whipped my head back to see France pointing a gun directly at England's heart. He was breathing heavily, and his other hand was clenched in a tight fist. There was no mistaking the look on his face. France was out for blood.

"Non… mon dieu, non…" I muttered, eyes wide.

"France," England straightened up and turned to face him, every bit the dignified nation I knew him to be. He didn't raise his own gun. He didn't try to defend himself, or even run. England just stood there.

"I won't let you take her," France growled, his blue eyes so dark they could be black.

I moved to England's side, and saw him smiling, "You'll have to kill me then, won't you."

My blood ran cold as I realized when England was doing. He didn't think France would shoot him. England knew France better than anyone, and France would never kill him. But I knew the French Empire…

… and the French Empire would.

France didn't hesitate, and neither did I. He pulled the trigger, and a nation fell. The thing was, it wasn't England.

I had never felt pain this bad. Spraining a wrist, bruises, cuts, injuries during the war, concussion, sure I had felt those. But as France's bullet hit my chest, a pain I had never felt before spread through me. I was on the ground as France rushed to me and England stumbled back, only dimly aware of what was going on. I was turning to ice, and the only thing that could stop it was pouring from the gaping hole in my chest.

"Sesel, mon dieu, Victoria, no!" I was pulled up into someone's lap – France's? – and someone was sobbing over me. Everything was blurry and dark, like there was a film over my eyes. I felt strangely detached from everything, and felt so fuzzy and cold.

Synapses in my brain managed to alert me to what was happening. I was dying. I had been shot in the chest, and now I was dying. It hurt so much, but as blood poured from the wound all over France and I, it ebbed away. What replaced the pain was only a dull throbbing and darkness.

I couldn't move, I couldn't see.

"Victoria!" Was that an angel? No, I wouldn't go to Heaven. I couldn't stop France, so what had I done to deserve it? I couldn't do anying.

"Non, Victoria, non!" Was the angel crying? Why? At least now I would be free. I didn't have to run anymore, "Je t'aime! Mon dieu, Victoria, s'il vous plaît ne pas mourir!"

The angel loved me. The angel didn't want me to die. But wouldn't France be happy then? I would be 'one' with him, in a way, if I died… My consciousness drifted off along with the rest of the pain, and I knew I was dead.

"Non…"

As the last of myself faded away, I was free.


Author's Note: This is all I have to say about that chapter: n.n That and this: don't be fooled, I'm not nearly done yet.

Oh, also: when did this story get popular? Seriously? I mean, I had nearly fifty views yesterday, over three hundred this month, and my last update was at LEAST two months ago (too lazy to look it up now xD). I mean... wow, guys o-o Especially for a niche pairing like FrancexSeychelles. Thanks o-o

Translation:

French:

Si quelqu'un essayait d'obtenir dans cette salle... leur tirer dessus. – If anyone tries to get in this room… shoot them.

Angleterre - England

Mon amour – My love

ma chérie/ mon cher - my darling

Bien sûr – of course

Ça fait mal – It hurts

Merde – Damn it

Soupe à l'oignon – French onion soup

Non - no

Mon dieu – my god

Oui – yes

Laissez-moi sortir! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi sortir! – Let me out! Please, please, let me out!

S'il vous plait – Please

Je t'aime – I love you

S'il vous plaît ne pas mourir! – Please, don't die!

Spanish:

Inglaterra – England

Mi amigo – my friend

Bien, Francia – Alright, France

German:

Frankreich – France

Seychellois Kreole:

Wi – yes

Silvouple - please