Later that night…
There was a knock on the door of their apartment and Francis got up to answer it.
"Don't…" urged Engand holding on to him. "I don't want to see anyone… "
"I will see who it is and tell them to leave." Francis replied. "Do not worry Mon Cher… you must rest."
He went to answer the door and who should be standing there but Alfred, and he was scowling with disgust. "Will you tell England I want to see him." He grunted as if the words were literally being forced from him.
"He really is in no state to see anyone." Francis replied. "But I want to have a word with you. Come in."
With a sigh America entered the room. "Where is he then?"
"He's asleep."
"I want to see him."
"You cannot. You will have to make do with me and what I have to tell you." Francis said firmly. "Now sit down."
"Oh for Crying out loud…" Groaned America, and sat down. "Well? What do you want to say?"
Making sure the bedroom door was closed tight Francis spoke in a low voice so that England wouldn't be able to hear him.
"You know how you came into existence Alfred. You came from me… and from Angleterre… we nurtured you… we gave you life… primarily… Angleterre gave you everything."
"And he took everything as well." Growled America "Why do you think I wanted independence in the first place?"
Francis sighed and shook his head. "He wouldn't have done that if it hadn't been for me… "
Americas eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.
"I wanted so much back then… it devastated him… and he couldn't be the father to you he wanted to be. " He replied. "We were at war… enemies." He said "You were our warchild…"
"What has that got to do with anything now?" Grumbled America. "So I'm your warchild, so what?"
"Angleterre said to me that you were like a rabid animal, he saw it in your eyes. He was right… you are dangerous, and we have to take the credit for bringing you into this world." He said "The throes of war were our birthing pains, and you are our brave new world."
Americas heart softened a little, it was kind of flattering, the things Francis was saying to him. "Are you saying you're proud of me Francis?"
"I would be… if you would listen to me… and to Angleterre…you are a very powerful force and maybe you don't know your own strength." He said as America sat there listening to him. "You have more strength in your little finger than the rest of us have in the whole of our bodies and that is saying something. You are superman to us, and yes you are a hero." He said "But you are also a teenager, who hasn't got control of his own mind yet…" He continued "So you threaten nations who are… way smaller than you are, for what reason? To look good? To create a threat that doesn't really exist? Why would you do that America? Are you afraid of something?"
"I think you'll find that he threatened me first…" growled Alfred "Or else I wouldn't have bothered with him."
"Why did you take the threat so seriously?" Francis asked in a stern tome. "You could have ignored him. You could have laughed, and walked away, knowing that you could stop him with a word… you didn't have to engage him like this. What is behind it?"
At first America didn't want to say anything and then he looked down and sighed. "Its not me, but my boss… I … understand what you're saying Francis… but I have to do what he says, even if I hate him."
"The other nations are afraid of you, not of him but of you, did you know that?"
"Afraid of me? But I'd be the one protecting everyone… I'm the hero!"
"Well they are… you must know this." He said "Angleterre is terrified of you right now."
"That's why you have to let me speak to him." America said "Things got a bit out of hand, and I didn't want to fall out with him like that. I've just been so angry of late, and to have him treat me like I was a kid again…" He sighed his mood softening "I didn't mean to hurt him." He said "Is he okay?"
Francis voice dropped to a whisper so that Arthur couldn't hear him. "He has a terrible wound America, from the war of Independence. It will never heal… and he's been trying to hide it from everyone since it happened. Sure we all know he has a nervous breakdown practically every year…"
"And he makes me feel guilty for it…" America said "But… what injury? What are you talking about?"
"Its deep inside him, and I've seen it tear him apart. He never told a soul and he doesn't know I'm telling you now. You have got to keep quiet about it. Promise you will." He said quietly. "That's why he seems emotionally distant sometimes, because the wound will open up again."
"But… but I didn't know…" Gasped America "I just always thought he was being a cold hearted bastard…"
"You know he's not really." Francis said "You've seen him in tears plenty of times." He continued "I have seen it first hand. I have held him whilst blood poured from his mouth…"
America looked horrified at this, he genuinely had no idea that the war of Independence had hurt England so much. He felt a bit guilty but then shook his head.
"No… no I refuse to feel guilty about this, it is not my fault." He said "I will take what you were saying into consideration Francis. Please will you let me see him? Let me speak to him, at least to apologise for earlier. I will be more gentle in the future now that I know he is sick, but… I will not feel guilty about it."
"I will ask him if he wants to see you.. wait here." Francis said as he opened the door to the bedroom. England lay there on the bed staring into space.
"Angleterre, America has come to apologise for earlier. Do you want to see him?"
England nodded and slowly got out of bed, stumbling to the door, and Francis ran to his aid. "I will see him. In there…" He uttered and with some real effort was able to stand and walk, even if it took every ounce of strength he had.
"England…" America began "I apologise for losing my temper earlier." He said looking at him with strange eyes. Was there any sign of this injury? It didn't seem as though there was, although earlier the other nations were saying they saw blood on him. He looked alright now.
"That's alright. You have nothing to apologise for." England replied "You had some good points and I understand you just want to protect everyone, all I was saying to you… all I wanted to say was maybe it is better to use the bomb for protection and not to threaten anyone. Even if they threaten you first, you see… to put it bluntly, if I threatened Ivan, he would laugh and maybe ignore everything I said, and anyway I wouldn't attack him… You see? Maybe this other nation, who is isolated from the rest of us, perhaps he is not such a big threat to you as you perceive him to be."
"I understand your point." America replied. "Okay… I'll use it for protection only… and maybe my boss won't be so keen to threaten to blow up everyone… I don't know about him. I don't like him very much. " He said "I hope he'll listen to me… I don't know." He said as he made to leave. He walked away and then walked back. "But I want you to know I don't submit to emotional blackmail." He said with conviction. "You might be sick but its not my fault, and I owe you nothing. Do you hear? Nothing."
"Of course not." England said looking away from him. "I would never blackmail you in such a way, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." Said America with cynicism. He'd promised not to tell him that he knew of his injury, and so he didn't. He looked at Francis who looked a bit scared right now, as if he was anticipating America telling England that he knew, and worse that Francis had betrayed his confidence and told the younger nation everything. America didn't trust either of them. England didn't look sick, and maybe he had instructed Francis to say what he did, so he could emotionally blackmail him. He was very suspicious of this but he didn't continue the conversation.
"Right well that's settled… see ya later guys." America said being all cocky and young and full of himself. Off he went, leaving them to sort out their own mess, or so he thought. Francis saw him out and closed the door, before rushing back to the side of his Angleterre.
"Are you alright mon amour?" He asked in a husky voice.
"Better… than I was…" England replied. "You told him didn't you? You told him… when I'd asked you not to."
"Angleterre…. I am sorry, he needed to know what he was putting you through every year… he did not see it…"
"He did not need to see it." England replied. "I only let you see… I didn't want you to tell him…"
"I thought he needed to know this, so he can understand you better."
"Now he thinks I tried to blackmail him… Thanks a lot Francis…" He said sadly. "I can't trust anyone… not even you."
"Oh… mon amour please don't think this way…" Francis said "Do you want me to leave…?" He asked. England said nothing in reply so Francis got his jacket and prepared to leave, not saying a word. However as he was about to go out the door, Arthur stumbled towards him and fell down on the floor, blood spewing from his mouth, and coughing badly. Francis ran to him and held him. "Oh mon amour I cannot leave you in such a state…"
"It would seem… Francis…" coughed England "That you leaving… causes the same symptoms…." He said. "Don't leave me…. Please…" He sighed. Francis gazed into Englands deep green eyes, once again feeding on the angst, and his pain, gentle tears whispering down the cheeks of his little Angleterre, but what he hadn't realised, what neither of them knew was that every time Angleterre felt the pain, the hurt, the anguish, that Francis would get stronger and he would get weaker. None of them made that connection, although Francis was starting to get an inkling that's what was happening. He wanted his husband to cry, to be hurt, to need him, and the more he did the more powerful he felt. As he laid Arthur down to rest and held him these thoughts came to his mind. Those thoughts both fascinated him and frightened him at the same time. He realised that the centuries of fighting with Angleterre had a similar effect, only in those days he was feeding off the pain of war, now he fed off the pain of Angleterre's deep emotions. He didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt, only held on to him even tighter, to feel, to watch his tears. How long could this go on? Did it matter? Francis wasn't going to say how he felt because that would drive him away, he just had to make sure that his husband needed him above all others, and that was all.
