Mathew can't remember the last time he saw Francis smile for real. Francis does still smile of course, but Mathew knows the difference between a faked smile and a genuine one. He hasn't seen the genuine one in a while. There's a darkness in Francis' eyes that wasn't there before, one that seems to be eating up the light that used to shine. Mathew tries his hardest to chase it away, but it doesn't seem to change.

He makes Francis his favorite meal. Francis puts on his polite smile and thanks him. He doesn't even eat half of it before he declares he's full and excuses himself. Mathew tries to engage Francis in some of his favourite activities, such as looking at art or gardening. Francis wears his polite smile and declines. He says he's too tired. Mathew reminisces with Francis about times of old, the fun things they did, funny moments that happened. Francis' polite smile twists just a bit. He doesn't laugh.

Mathew tries everything. The light in Francis' eyes keep getting dimmer. Mathew tries his last resort, and hauls Francis up to Paris, his home town, taking him to all the familiar places Francis used to love. Francis only looks tired. He wants to sleep more and more these days, and now, even the polite forced smile is slipping. When Francis excuses himself to rest instead of visit the River Seine, his eyes look duller than ever, and Mathew realizes with a sinking heart that he cant fix this. He's not enough to chase away the darkness.

He wants to cry, but he wont. He cant. Because if Francis somehow sees or hears, it will add on more weight to the already bowed shoulders. Mathew cant be the one to crush Francis. He wishes he could be the one to save him, but now its all too clear that Mathew isn't the one. He has no choice. He calls for reinforcements.

When his half-sisters arrive, Mathew is approaching despair, and they must notice it as soon as they see his face. The younger, Michelle, grabs his pale hand in her tanned one and pulls him close. She doesn't say a word, but her arms wrap silently around Mathew, and he sinks into the grip. Lucille, the older of his younger sisters, stays frozen, as though she doesn't know what to do. Finally, she speaks, and the moment is broken, Mathew pulls away from Michelle and her arms fall down to her side. There are no tear stains. Mathew will not cry.

"Mathieu, what's wrong?" Lucille's voice is full of gentle pleading and concern. Michelle shifts anxiously from foot to foot. Mathew communicates the problem with just one word, desperation obvious in his tone.

"Papa."

They don't understand until Francis awakes from his nap and cames down tiredly for a light supper, one he only picks at and doesn't eat. His sisters hold back gasps. Francis looks nothing like the one from their memories, playful and energetic, eyes alight and alive. This Francis is someone else, someone tired and drained, his every move lethargic, and the light almost all gone from his eyes. He looks like he's fading, and its terrifying. The sisters finally understand Mathew's despair.

Michelle is the first to move, replicating the actions of her younger self as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around his waist, fiercely hugging him. Francis looks surprised, the first genuine emotion other than exhaustion and indifference that Mathew has seen. Lucille is more reserved, and offers him a more gentle hug once Michelle releases her grip. Both of them pretend they don't notice how much thinner Francis has gotten.

From here, Mathew steps back. He's already tried his best. Francis had only gotten worse. Under Lucille's gentle care and Michelle's energetic care, Francis seems to at least stop growing worse for a bit. The polite smile is back on his face, although Mathew cant tell if its good or not. Francis has started eating more under Lucille's watchful gaze and gentle chidings, he spends less time sleeping and more time gently chatting with Michelle and Lucille. But Francis still hasn't smiled a real smile, and even Michelle is running out of energy, growing sober and quiet, and shooting Mathew a look to ask for help whenever she thinks she cant go on.

Mathew realizes even this is not enough. He plays with his cellphone and considers calling someone he knows is always abounding in endless energy, but decides against it. On the best of days he knows Alfred is exhausting, and for Francis, who is already weary all the time, it might be to much. His brother also tends to speak without thinking, and Mathew can't risk a wrong word that will make Francis fade even more. There's one more, another person that Mathew can call, but he's not sure if he'll pick up. Even if he does, will he come? Mathew doesn't know what he'll do if he refuses.

It isn't until later that evening, after Francis has retired, when he catches Michelle crying into Lucille's shoulder that he makes up his mind. He makes a phone call. No one picks up. Of course. Mathew tries not to scoff. He knows that Arthur never picks up unknown calls, and Mathew's number isn't saved in his phone. He drops his shaking hands to his side, fists clenched in frustration. Now what does he do? Lucille calls to him from the doorway where he hadn't realized she was standing.

"Mathieu?"

He turns to look at her, and she looks so small to him, so much more than he remembered, her face betraying an unease he'd never seen before. Mathew makes up his mind.

"I have to go somewhere. I wont be long."

Lucille understands the unasked question, and she nods.

"I'll stay here."

Mathew manages a tired smile, but a genuine one. He knows his sisters don't want a fake smile right now. He doesn't say anything else, though, only purchases a plane ticket and calls a taxi.

The flight seems longer than it is, but Mathew doesn't doze off. His mind is too busy. By the time the plane lands he's stressed himself out, and suddenly feels extremely tired. But Mathew doesn't have time to rest. He directs the taxi to the familiar address, and when he arrives, it seems like nothing has changed, the old house is still surrounded by luscious gardens, and there are vines clinging to the the walls. The thing that has changed the least, though, is the face that greets him when he knocks on the door.

"Dad."

Mathew greets, and Arthur's bushy eyebrows draw together. Arthur looks like he has many things he wants to say, but something in Mathew's tired tone and wan face stops him. He opens the door further and steps aside.

"Come on in."


Alfred = America
Arthur =Britain/England /UK
Francis =France
Mathew=Canada
Lucille=Monaco
Michelle=Seychelles
Antonio=Spain
Gilbert=Prussia
Kyle= Australia
James=New Zealand