Listen to "Tuesday Afternoon" by the Moody Blues (extended version)

"Tuesday afternoon, I'm just beginning to see...

Now I'm on my way"

"Francis?" a whispered voice entered through his delirium. "Francis are you awake?" Something was calling him… or someone… he knew that voice… it was the voice of England, Arthur Kirkland. He was there and he was real. Francis managed to open his eyes a little, wondering where he was and what was going on. Wherever this was, it was warm and safe, and he was no longer on the freezing battlefield of death. Next to him sat Arthur, holding his hand and occasionally cooling him down with a cold cloth as he was burning up with a terrible fever. He was extremely ill after his ordeal on the battlefield and he could hardly breathe without pain.

"It doesn't matter to me, chasing the clouds away"

"Francis?" Arthur continued to whisper softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Something calls to me, the trees are drawing me near..."

He could only respond with a look of pain that lay behind his cerulean blue eyes, as he tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing would come to him.

Arthur just watched him and continued to try to cool down the fever that had claimed him. He gently kissed Francis' fingers and watched over him for a long time.

"Are you in pain my love?" He asked gently. Francis nodded. It was as though every bone in his body had been crushed and he'd been beaten to a pulp by Germany, defeated and helpless, all he had was England, his oldest friend and enemy there to help him.

"It is finished…Arthur…" He mumbled "Allemagne has won. I can't fight against him… he's too strong…"

"You listen to me Francis Bonnefoy… you are a beautiful man… you are strong and you're going to make it. You're not going to die because of this war, and certainly not because of Germany." He said to try to encourage him. "You are safe here, and I'm going to make sure you get well again… I will free you from the pain, and I will help you as best as I can. I love you Francis…"

At those words, the Frenchman felt tears welling up in his eyes. England must love him after all, as he was going to help him… and yet he felt so weak he could just give up right there and then. "But… he may be stronger than you too Arthur… he's a war machine…"

"And we know a juggernaut that will crush him in an instant… " Arthur replied.

"Amerique?" Francis managed to ask through his tears. "Will he help?"

"He said he would." Arthur replied. "Meri loves us… in his own way…" He sighed. "We can rely on him I think."

"I don't know if I can go on …" Francis sighed as he felt his body get heavier, he could barely keep his eyes open, he had no energy at all. "I can't do it…."

"You have to Francis… you have to live because… because I need you…" Arthur said trying not to let the tears show that threatened to flow from his eyes.

"You don't need me… I'm finished Arthur…"

"No… you're my greatest friend… my oldest enemy… the man I love more than life itself. You can't go and leave me here all alone… I need you… and you're going to get better, and you're going to be the France I know and love… you won't die…"

"Do you mean that?" Francis uttered "That you love me more than life itself?" he choked. He couldn't believe England would say a thing like that, for it meant such a big thing, for Arthur to tell him that. It meant that he was willing to risk everything, even his life, for Francis, and that was precious. More precious than anything in the whole world.

"Listen to me Francis…" He uttered "You and I have fought against each other, and side by side… there's no one I love in this whole world the way I love you." He wept, the tears now flowing from his eyes, and he didn't even try to stop them. "How can I go on without you? How can I live without my life?"

England was crying. From his heart, from his soul. Francis felt his heart in his chest beat faster and turn over, for Arthur cared for him in a way he could never have dreamed of.

"Je'taime…" He whispered. "I… love you…"

Arthur took Francis' cold hand and held it to his lips, kissing his fingers, and Francis could feel those wet tears on his cheeks that continued to flow. "You must get better, you have to get better… do you hear me? You're going to eat, and drink… and I'll be right here with you… I'm not going to leave you alone."

Francis relaxed, for once feeling loved by his Angleterre, whom he'd always needed, and loved and hoped would love him in return. This proved it and more. He would stand up to Germany, and only because England saved him.