Heart

Today was the day. Wednesday, the day of the psychiatrist appointment, I murmured to myself, as I filed away the evidence of last night's flashback. How am I supposed to bring back France anyway? It's not like I can apply what I see in my deliriums into my everyday life...

...Or can I?

I shook the foolish thought from my mind and locked the safe securely, checking to make sure the safe was secure. Heh, I'm turning into one of those over-protective addicts, I observed my schizophrenic ways and chuckled without humour, I'm going to have a hard time keeping this charade up!

Matt was right, this unimaginable mission defiantly wasn't going to be easy. Not only with Maddie's oblivious answer to how a drug would help in winning my father back, but also my cravings for more of the infectious narcotic were already taking over.

Self-control is vital, without it, I could lose everything in a heartbeat. My family...my sanity...and eventually, my life. Slipping on my beige coat, I walked out of my room to join Arthur, who was the one responsible of driving me to work.

The World Conference Hall was as busy and vivacious as ever. With the chatter of bustling countries and the sea of new ideas and upcoming holidays, it was so easy to get lost in it all. I was relived to hear that I had a G8 meeting to go to at ten-past noon, I'd have an hour or so to wash away the stress of my over-weighted burden that lay atop of my shoulders.

But, something is missing... There is no raucous laughter in the air, no familiar smell of cheese and wine, and no string of sexual comments...

...No France...

The whole case turned sceptical when even Gilbert and Antonio gave no sure answer to Francis' whereabouts. At the G8 meeting, there were only seven of us. They might as well call it a G7 meeting...

"Has anyone seen France-san? Isn't he supposed to attend the G8 meetings rike the rest of us?" Japan hinted on the Frenchman's disappearance. Obviously, England held no worry over France. I couldn't blame him, I wasn't the only one who was internally suffering.

"Ve~ Maybe he's sick!" Italy chimed in, the rest of the nations nodded and grunted in agreement.

"Or perhaps, something came up suddenly, aru," China added, turning to England suggestively, "What do you think, England?"

All eyes turned to my mother-country, who simply shrugged, "Why should I care for that frog? Probably started chasing another pretty face for all I know..." Nobody else sensed it, but England didn't mean it accusingly. He evidently believed that his former significant other longed for a more...attractive partner.

"Anyway, rather than stall our meeting, how about we get back on topic, eh?" I piped up, breaking the silence. Germany nodded in my direction and carried on from last week's topic; the alternative universes and what threats they posed...

~XxXxX~

"I'll come and pick you up later, alright?" Were England's departing words as he dropped me off at the foot of the GP clinic. May as well get it over and done with...

The waiting room posed as nothing out of the ordinary; hard plastic chairs, a thread-bare collection of vandalized magazines and the awful, "clean" smell closly resembled to that of a hospital.

"Ah, Matthew Williams?" The accountant at the lobby desk greeted, shortly after I walked in the door. The middle-aged lady pointed in the direction of the psychiatrist's office, saying that he was "just the one to see".

A flight of stairs and four doors down later, I found the right office. The plaque on the door spelt 'Dr F. Wright' in bold, black letters. I knocked on the door twice.

"Hm?" Was all I could hear from an inaudible mumble of an answer. Quite unprofessional, I commented under my breath, before I twisted the door knob hesitantly and opened the office door.

The office looked oddly sizable; probably due to the bleach-white walls giving off the illusion of space. A leather futon stood on a diagonal, opposite to a matching armchair. The floor was coated with a modern rug, it's blue's and green's complimented the whole room. Well, he does have taste. I went ahead and laid down on the comfortable futon and waited on the doctor, who was fumbling around in a storage closet integrated inside the room.

I could hear him a lot more clearly now, he was humming along to a familiar tune. I recognised the song straight away, it was a folk song that was sung to me from as far back as I could remember. The memory made me smile at the man's humming, it was nice to know that someone else had heard of it as well.

But here the thing that gets me; I first heard that song centuries and centuries ago, before any recording devises were invented. So how could he know of the song existence if he wasn't from...

...France...

I was so endorsed in my thoughts that I forgot all about the approaching footsteps. Stumbling up from the expensive couch, I racked my brain for a suitable apology.

"I-I'm sorry, Doc, I just thought I'd wai-?!" I gave a quick shriek of surprise, and I swear I had jumped out of my skin the moment I laid eyes on the man.

And the blond mirrored my same shock, "Mon dieu?! Is that really you, Matthieu?!" There, right in front of me, stood France. I tried to hide tears of joy and hatred, but my guise was easily seen through.

"H-How?...Why?" I cried, hiding my tear-drowned face with my gloved hands. It wasn't long before France had taken me into his arms, a rare thing he ever did with me. A few fallen drops on my shoulder signified that France was also weeping silently.

"I changed my name and worked in secret...After all, I thought I'd never see you again!"

After a good five minutes of standing idle, motionless, we had both become placid enough to speak again.

"I've missed you, mon ange," France started, each word sincere, "'ow is Angleterre?"

"He misses you," I answered, trying my best to reduce the acidic sarcasm in my voice, "He thinks you've moved on from him already." Sure, I want Francis back, but I still haven't forgotten a whole past of abandonment!

France furrowed his brows and bit his lip, "I don't blame 'im...I'm such a poor exuse of a partner...and a father." He directed the last part at me, I could practically feel his pain through his words.

"No matter how much I- hate you from past events, I still need you in my life! I still need you, Papa!" I struggled to say such a strong word, but that line seemed to work.

France gave me a small, but genuine smile and ruffled my hair like I was my young self again, "How about a deal, eh? You can come and visit me, or vise versa, as much as you want," France's face lit up and he turned all his attention to the next part, "But only on one condition...that we must do it all in secret!"

"But why in secret, Matthieu? Arther and Alfred both 'ave a right to know!" France questioned.

"Because if either of them knew, they'd stop us for seeing each other ever again!" I reminded France. In turn, he nodded acceptingly.

"It's a deal, mon chér Matthieu, a deal I promise to keep!"

"Merci," I replied back in French, to my father's joy, "Je t'aime, Papa..." And with that, I launched forward and embraced the surprised Frenchman, in which he instantaneously wrapped his arms around my torso.

"...Je t'aime...Matthieu..." Francis replied, struggling to finish his sentence through his sobs.

Translations:

• Mon ange = My angel

• Angleterre = England

• Mon chér = My Dear

• Matthieu = The French way of saying Matthew :/

• Mon dieu = My God!

• Je t'aime = I love you

• Merci = Thanks / Thank you

Thank you for reading! I was brainstorming for future chapters, and I forgot to plan for this chapter! Please, feel free to send a review to me if you want.

Tune in next time for 'Chapter Four, 2nd Player'!

Bye!