Reunited...For Now?

Trudging up twelve familiar flights of stairs to an even more familiar top-floor condo was easier said than done. Probably because of the fact that I was dead tired from the fly back to England. Matt and Maddie weren't too far in front of me, though Maddie looked as if she could drop-dead at any moment.

Just a few more steps until we get to the front door, I reminded myself, knees trembling with every step from the weigh of Maddie's extra luggage combined with my own.

I rung the doorbell twice, impatient. Hopefully Arthur won't complain about the time, it is four o'clock in the morning...

A set of footsteps stomped up to the front door, before an exhausted Alfred almost yanked it from it's hinges, "What in the name of— Oh, hey Mattie! Thank god you're back! The little polar-bear dude bit me twice while you were gone...they don't carry rabies, do they?"

I rolled my eyes at my brother's paranoid queries, as the three of us pushed past him. I see Arthur repainted the living room again, I thought, noticing the usual light beige walls had been replaced with a milky-cream acrylic.

Maddie had already sought refuge under the covers of my bed, and Matt had already collapsed down a safe distance next to her. Great, another night sleeping on the couch.

"Matthew, could I talk with you for a second?" A certain Brit asked, in a tone that stated he wasn't giving me the option to refuse.

Clenching my teeth together, though my face composed, I slowly spun around to come face-to-face with the one and only Arthur Kirkland. He simply held up my camera...the same camera I took on "a holiday to catch-up with some friends", or so I lied.

The truth remained that it was the camera I took to Paris. I guess he found out while I was away in my home-country...and Arthur doesn't look very happy about that fact.

"Would you mind telling me where you really were on that "holiday" a few weeks back?" He asked, casually swinging my camera by it's lanyard. He may of thought otherwise, but I clearly heard the hard edge in his tone.

Damn, I can't get out of this one! Arthur took hold of my camera and started to scroll through all the photos I took, stopping at the one of Matt and Maddie, taken on that wintery, December day in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I exhaled loudly and told the truth, "Okay, you got me. I went to see Francis and while there, I was injured, which explains the slightly longer trip. So sue me!"

England's right eye twitched, his thick eyebrows furrowing together, "I don't know if I made myself clear enough. As well as your father, you and Alfred are not to interfere with that frog's life, as he is not to interfere with ours!"

I stayed silent, using all my power to not blurt out a cruel comeback.

"Do you have any idea how angry and how pained I am?" Arthur continued, dropping his hands to his sides, "Francis...Francis left us more times than I could begin to count. Every time, my words drove him away...and I can't help but feel guilty for separating our family! From the first day we fought, I was the one who destroyed the relationship between you and your father..."

"The man I have hated for so many years...is the same man I still love with all my heart." England's voice changed from enraged to shaky, his tone was now laced with nostalgia, his emerald eyes grew glassy and melancholic. "Everyday I think of him, and I regret every word of hate that I spat at him. Now he's disappeared out of my life, for real this time."

England held a hand to his mouth, trying in a half-hearted attempt to silence his shallow breaths, lone tears trickled down his cheeks from his scrunched-up, anguished eyes. I felt a pang in my chest, selfish for not even regarding my mother-country's problems at all.

I racked his brain for a suitable thing to say, "Papa misses you too. I'm sure he's thinking the same; knowing he let us down for the last time, never forgiving himself for making his lover cry."

England nodded his head, though the tears continued to spill. Alfred took the situation into his own hands, and ran over to England to console him with a comforting hug. England didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his ex-colony and to bury his face into America's shoulder. I bit my lip, I couldn't help feeling sorry for my mother-country...

I had no choice but to do with my last resort to help, "Maybe, we could have France come and live with us again. I certainly can't bare to see you like this."

Alfred threw me a repulsed look, "Are you crazy? What if he leaves us again? Then what, smart-ass?"

"That's enough, Alfred...your brother has a point. I'm sure we can make amends." England replied sternly, leaving America in a gawking state. Arthur knew it could be the only cure to his heart-break. So with a sniff and a small smile, he agreed to my plan. Though Alfred was still a little shifty about the reunion, he gave in eventually.

"Good, I'm sure he'll be happy to hear the news." I concluded, grabbing out my phone to send a quick text of great news. Maybe then, after they make up, this whole drug thing will blow over like it was a thing of the past...

~•~

Five days later, we had scheduled a day for Francis to arrive. That day is today. Arthur spent all morning preparing the greatest batch of scones he had made yet. And by greatest, I mean not all of them were totally singed.

After completing a few house-keeping chores, I helped Alfred set the table with our best set of polished silverware. I thought it was a little over the top, but I didn't want to spoil England's subconsciously-exited mood.

Along with the scones, England had bought a bottle of imported French wine out of consideration to France's tastes, as well as fine cheese and cured meats.

"He said two-o'clock, right?" England checked, glancing at the microwave's green digits. Quarter to two, it read.

"That's right," I confirmed, "He should be here soon, and I think the room looks clean enough." England nodded, tipping the tray of scones onto a large, ceramic place and placing it in the middle of the table, like an edible centerpiece.

Ding dong!

We all froze in place and stared at the front door. "Well, at least he's not late." I commented, making my way over to open the door.

Swinging the door open, there France was, holding a bouquet of lilies and white-roses. He flashed me a warm smile, "Bonjour, mon fils! 'ow are you? It's good to see you again, Matthieu."

"I'm good, Papa. Come in, make yourself comfortable!" I replied, stepping aside to let my farther in.

England shuffled over to greet France, a pink glow swept across his cheeks, "Nice to see you again, Bonnefoy. It's been awhile..."

"Indeed, Angleterre, almost too long! 'ere, I bought these on my way over. Your favorites." Francis handed Arthur the bouquet. Arthur studied the bouquet closer, both of their national flowers were included in the bunch. Indeed, his favorites.

"Th-Thank you," England stuttered, realizing he was blushing and dithering like a lunatic, "Um, anyway, how about we talk about the whole 'you living here' business over tea?" Hm, I wonder if Arthur really is, as Japan always says, a tsundere...?

France nodded and reclaimed his usual spot that had been left untouched by all of us, a few cobwebs here and there. Yet Francis still sat without hesitation, while the rest of us followed. Alfred sat across from me, obviously trying to use the most nonchalant way possible to get away from France. I couldn't help but notice our colonizers had been staring longing at each other ever since they both sat down.

I cleared my throat, and then had to again to get their attention, "Alright, I believe you have a preposition to make, Arthur?"

"Huh? Ah, yes," Arthur stumbled with his words, but made an effort to keep his serious face from slipping as he stood up from his chair, "Francis, you are allowed to stay with us from now on for the rest of our lives...On one condition, that you swear to never leave us again or tear our family apart."

Alfred snorted and rolled his eye, for which I kicked his shin from under the table. France stood up to be level with England, and put a hand over his heart, "I swear on my life as a country; I promise to never leave Amérique or Canada, and most importantly, I will never leave you, Angleterre, ever again!"

Words that England would usually sneer at in the past, he smiled at today. America sarcastically checked his watch and gasped in mock-shock, "Well, would you look at the time, Mattie and I have a meeting in twenty-minutes!"

And with that, my brother grasped hold of my wrist with more force than necessary and made for the door, slamming it shut behind me.

France and England stood there, captured once again in each other's gaze. Before long, Arthur strode around the table and enclosed his arms around Francis, his head resting in the crook of the Frenchman's neck.

Verging tears clustered in the Brit's eyes, ready to spill at any given moment, "Francis...I've missed you, so much. I'm glad that you're back, and I'm sorry for driving you away all those times an-" Arthur's words were stopped by a velvet-gloved finger pressed upon his lips. France had pulled away from the Brit and was now at head level with him.

"'ush now, ma amour," Francis lowered the volume of his voice to a whisper, "In the time we spent apart, not a moment went by without me thinking of you. I was ruthless, and I had done you 'arm that nobody should deserve to suffer. But what I 'ate the most...is that I made you cry, and I could say sorry a thousand times over, but I will never forget the anguish in your eyes. Angleterre, please forgive me, do not blame yourself for my sins."

France's lips took the place his finger once held, drawing his lover closer. England moaned softly as his French partner bit his lip playfully, his tongue pleading access which England granted. Entwining their hands together, the two stood there, their motions fluid with passion and desire.

"I love you, Francis." Arthur beamed breathlessly as the kiss subsided, his hands took back their place over the edge of Francis' shoulders.

"I love you too, Angleterre." France smiled, planting a lasting kiss on the top of England's head, secretly wishing this moment could last forever.

~•XxXxX•~

"I just don't get it!" I exclaimed, pacing around my room, trying in vain to put the pieces together, "We're a family now, and I'm still craving that god-forsaken drug! Could someone enlighten me on why that is?"

"Stupid, the deal isn't done until this feud has stopped once and for all, and I can tell you now, it hasn't even warmed up yet." Matt's vague answer didn't comfort me at all.

"What Matt was trying to say was; once your deepest wish, deeper than getting France back, is fulfilled...this whole thing will be resolved, and the two of us will go back to our own worlds." Maddie's helped, though I didn't have any more wishes. What could they possibly mean?

My train of though was interrupted by something banging on my window. A crow? No, it's too loud to be one, I though, cautiously approaching the windowsill.

I quickly opened it and stumbled back as a peculiar man hoisted himself up into my room without difficulty, despite the fact he was hanging twelve stories above certain death. Dirty clothes, sullen eyes, unkempt stubble and a shrewd scowl completed him.

Matt looked repulsed, horror stirring in his furious eyes, an unnatural look for him. Maddie had sunk down behind her protective barrier that was apparently Matt, a glower filled with hatred stuck permanent to her face, a rare look for her.

The man's eyes swept absentmindedly over us, we wrinkled our noses at the smell of gasoline and alcohol that dampened his drab, grey shirt. He walked over to me, and grasped my coat with his boney hands, his fingers turning a puke-yellow at the fingertips.

"My, my...if it isn't Matthieu, my weak, 1P son with my bratty, 2P son. There's not much of a difference between you, I could mistake you for the same person. Oh wait, you are the same person," The Frenchman laughed harshly at his own joke, his accent scarily distinct to me, "Either way, you are both a disappointment to moi..."

"Go back to the hell where you fucking came from." Matt barked, boring his eyes into the man's with scorching revulsion, shielding Maddie with his own body more defensivly. Pushing past him and dropping his hand from my chest, the man diverted his attention to Maddie, who looked as if she was having a stare-off with a ghost.

"And what might your name be, mademoiselle?" He jeered, grasping Maddie's chin as he tilted her head this way in a rough manner, his eyes filled with deliberate yet mock lust.

I grabbed the senile man's wrist, prying the his grubby fingers off of my counterpart's face. "Get away from her. I have no idea of who you are, but I don't like you! Either tell us your business here, or stay out of out lives!" I snapped, throwing the man's wrist out of out grasp and wiping my hand on my trousers.

The man tutted sarcastically and regained hold of my coat, his grip tighter this time. The man gave a merciless smirk, and an intensive pain circulated my head, "I don't think you remember who I really am, Matthieu! I was the assassin who tried to murder you with a book, I was the one who injected you with a Counterfeiter, and I'm going to be responsible for your all of your future misery!"

The man's voice circled inside my head, like a broken record. "Stop it! Stop it! Get out of my head!" I screamed, clutching my head and falling to my knees, writhing in pain.

"Matthew, we need to get out of here! The French troops are here, they are here for you!" Arthur? No...no, it can't be that day!

"You need to hide, come back to my home and hide in the most secluded part of the United Kingdom. I'll tell you when you can go back, though it might be years until you can set foot in your own country!"

"Run, run Matthew, run!"

Outside of my horrendous flashback, Matt could see that the man was my source of pain. Not taking a moment to second guess his plan, Matt collided with the man, knocking him out of concentration. Which, in turn, bought me precious time out of that mindless hell, but not much.

I tried to make the most of my time, as I tried to strike the man while he was still down. Bad move, me. The man easily caught my fist and kicked me in the shin, then proceeded to launch me off himself with his elbow. Well, for a skinny man he was surprisingly strong.

"You can't run from me forever, Matthieu...because soon enough, reality will catch up to you. We will meet again, and next time, I won't just affect you..." The man taunted with a sneer, before hurling himself out the still open window. I rushed to the window and looked down. There was no sign of the strange man, yet the weight in my gut persisted.

"Who the hell was that? Why was he calling me his son? Nothing is making any sense!" I shouted, my enclosed fists shaking violently, in-sync with the rest of my body. My adrenaline levels has risen dramatically, leading me to take a few deep breaths.

"That man-...Matthew, from this day on, he will go out of his way to make your goal a lot more challenging to reach," Matt's voice trembled, in contrast to his usual fearless tone. Lifting a hand to grasp his own chin in a thoughtful matter, Matt stared-off into the distance, still taking in what just happened. "Stay as far away from him as possible, y'hear? He's a dangerous madman, and you've just placed yourself on his bad side."

"But who is he?"

Matt didn't answer, and neither did Maddie.

He was the man in the library who had almost killed me, the man who injected me with that strange purple liquid... But what does he mean by a 'Counterfeiter'?

Still left in awe of the recent introduction of such a devilish person, I had no idea that my life had just taken an eventful, and utterly fiendish, turn for the worst.

Translations:

• Bonjour (mon fils) = Hello (my son)

• Matthieu = French way of saying Matthew

• Amérique = America in French

• Ma amour = My love

• Mademoiselle = Madam, My Lady, etc.

• Moi = Me

Thank you for reading! A little fore-shadowing at the end, if I do say myself. FrUk will be present from this point on (doesn't mean is will be in all chapters...) so if you don't like, don't read or just skip over parts you don't like.

Tune in next time for 'Chapter Eight'!

Bye!