A/N; You guys must be pissed-shit mad. He-he. I like it. And while I was slacking, I got myself a sock-monkey hat. It drips awesomeness. Buttttttt…. I gots some sur-preezes for you guys. Guess what's out now? Guess what comes out tomorrow? Guess what comes out the day after that? Same answer for it all; chapter. Aww yeah! And you guys are getting Spamano. Empty lies? Maybe? We'll see what the future'll bring. Fh;oerglohgoioglr Opps sorry. Watching M*A*S*H and Charles just said "No, it's the American way. Survival of the richest." He-he-he-he-heee.
Disclaimer: Me? Own Hetalia? That's not funny.
The grandfather clock tolled; 9:00 am. Outside, multiple black cars rolled up to the entrance. The chauffeur tipped his glossy hat with a wrinkled smile.
"Bonne journée, Monsieur France."
Long, nearly boney, fingers pushed away a silky lock of hair; "Bonne journée."
Echoes of dress shoes resounded through out the hallway as several countries filed into the conference room. A shuffling of papers and chairs became prevalent as the space filled. Coffee mixed with the scent of Tortellini Ripieni di Formaggio and a continuous string of 've's could be heard. The last of the nations made their way to the large round table – some running, others strolling with a lazy ease. When all were seated, the summit began. Germany stood, giving a cough to call attention. He, about to voice the meeting's schedule, was abruptly cut off by the sound of a chair scraping across the carpeted floor.
"Bonjour mes amis."
Ludwig slammed his hands down onto the chestnut table, making both papers and pasta fly.
"Veeeee! Perché?"
"Frankreich! Shtit down!"
France, ignoring the German, continued; "I 'ave some… concerning… news to tell you; Julie 'as been diagnosed in a coma. She 'asn't waken since Saturday." His eyes trailed away, downcast.
The silence was heavy and uncomfortable. Austria remained shocked, his eyes, widened. Hungary, on the left, gave a saddened look to her ex-spouse; she couldn't bear this news. Russia, at the far end off the table, could see his sister tearing up out of the corner of his eye and his smile dropped ever so slightly. Japan felt his breath catch in his throat at France's words. He saw the Italian brothers become tight-lipped; no one spoke a word.
"What!" England flew from his seat in fury. "What the bloody hell do you mean 'in a coma'?"
Francis didn't answer. Instead, he sat down and kept his eyes trained on anything but the Englishman's face. Arthur became increasingly angry with the Frenchman's act.
"Look at me frog! What do you mean 'in a coma'?"
France scowled at the other. "W'at do you want me to say, hein? Because I don't know w'at to say! I don't know w'at to–"
The doors burst open on the other side of the room. A young man – quite possibly twenty years of age – ran in, his wavy russet-brown hair flying and bouncing behind him. He wheezed his words through dry, chapped lips; "Monsieur Bonnefoy! L'hôpital m'a téléphoné! Julie s'est réveillé de son coma hier!"
France wasted no second. He grabbed his papers and packed his briefcase before hurrying out the conference room; Hungary followed him. The attendant motioned them to a red Peugeot 107 – double-parked mind you – and the car soon sped off down the streets of Manhattan.
Meanwhile, Germany had declared the meeting was on hold as America, Russia and England al took off to the hospital. The rest left, taking the opportunity to explore the Big Apple's most admired city.
MHW
The clicks of heels woke her from the dull daytime thoughts. She twisted her head in the direction of the sound; the doctor assured her, she was to be released today. Whiplash nagged her lightly, but it was ignored in favor of staring at the door.
SATM
France and Hungary were led by a nurse to room 492. The way the French nation seemed to eye the human woman made Elizabeta uncomfortable. She kept her frying pan on her body – just incase something got funky. The nurse, who introduced herself as Mrs. Urnezis, pushed open a familiar white door to reveal Julie sitting upright in the hospital bed, the I.V. still attached to her left arm. She looked a bit better than when he had last seen her.
His fingers stretched out as her came to her side, the bony tips brushing against her face, paled by the constant bed rest. Her cheeks were still as plump as ever. She smiled; "Bonjour France."
The organ that beat within Francis warmed at the sweet sound of a girl's voice greeting him. The clock seemed to stop, but it started up again at the echo of the door opening once more.
"Good day Mister Bonnefoy."
A heavy masculine voice came through the slightly ajar door. His glasses were painfully square – his coat, painfully white.
He approached her. "How are you feeling Julie?" He asked nonchalantly, as though he had asked this to many other people, which he probably did.
"I'm okay." Her voice came rusty, but articulated as ever. "I've had worst." She replied with a small shrug.
Francis stepped to the side as the doctor took out a stethoscope and began to measure her heartbeat and breathing. He asked her if she still felt pain; she nodded. He then told her she would have to come back next week for a final check. Until then, she would be placed in a wheelchair.
They couldn't bear to watch when a male nurse came in with the wheelchair and a small stack of clothes. He lifted the girl gently and held her up as the nurse from before removed the child's hospital gown, revealing the bruises and the bandage encircling her torso. The nurse then dressed her with a white, long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.
Together, the nurses placed the young girl in the wheelchair, who was given a pair of pink socks. The socks were a gift from the Lithuanian nurse to cheer Julie up. It was unbearable to watch young children be condemned to wheelchairs. Even if it was only for two weeks, she believed youngsters should be able to run and jump.
The doctor signed the discharge order. In the lobby, the young man from before, Jérôme, was introduced to her. France asked if he would like to become Julie's assistant, for a raise – of course; his offer was readily accepted. Jérôme was to help her be as mobile as she could.
LTR
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
A pair of military-issued boots clomped through the hall, marching in such a way, that it seemed they were aiming to push a hole in the marble floor beneath them.
"Italien! Gehen Sie schneller!"
Another pair of shoes ran at a much more uneven pace along the previous, almost tripping underneath the crisp, grey, business suit pants. The tips of the crocodile loafers peaked out into square, yet triangular ends with little ridges due to the stitching. They slipped and slid which way on the waxed surface of the marble.
The Italian whined and whimpered due to a loss of non-existent energy; "Germany! Why'a do we have'a to have the meeting a'again?"
"Nein! Not 'again'! Zhe meehting izh reuhmed. Julie hazh been released nd v'he have to figure out vhat v'he vhill do vhith her."
"Veeee….."
The two made a right – into the conference room from before, which was once again filled. All eyes turned in their direction; they could hear the stomping long before the set arrived. Ludwig marched in with a serious air and took his place at the podium that stood before the table.
"Ja." The German coughed. "Guten Morgen. Vhell–"
From nine seats down, Russia waved at the other; "Да! Доброе утро для вас тоже!"
Ludwig gave a blank stare before continuing;
"Ja. Vhell, Entschuldigung fhor zhe unusual morning. As some of you do not know, Amerika vhaz messing vith magik–"
A few laughs went around the table.
Ludwig coughed loudly; "und summoned a girl from anozher dimension. After a series of evhents, she became injured und haz been in zhe hospitahl fhor nehrly a whole vheek. She fhell into a coma, but vhoke fhrom it. Now v'he have to figure out how she vhill be handled. She cohming now vith France und Hungary."
Turkey banged his hand on the table like so many others seemed to do today.
"So we have to take care of some brat we don't know!" he questioned.
"I won't waste money on another person." shouted Switzerland.
Romano sneered from the other side of the table. "That's because you're cheap, gun bastard!"
Multiple nations rose from their places and began to argue over trivial matters. The sound of feet approaching the conference room was drowned out by the shouts of them.
ATS
"Drive faster you git!"
"Stop yellin' at me!"
England folded his arms in frustration. The girl was his – solely his. Not that he was becoming possessive of her. He was… protecting her.
Yes. That's it. She was brought here with magic; she's my responsibly,he though.
Alfred sat in his own state of mind, rushing past other cars through the pure chaos of 2nd Ave. It would still take them fifteen minutes before they arrived at the New York Downtown Hospital.
Come on! Go faster car! Don't let that commie beat us there!
ATS
Russia parked his Tempest colored Renault Clio across the street from the hospital on William Street. As he turned the corner, he could see France's Peugeot 107 parked by the entrance. He made his way through the parking lot filled of Fords and Hondas to the front. The people in the lobby of shirked away at the sight of the tall Russian. Ivan spotted a group of people near the lobby counter, including France, Hungary, someone in a wheelchair and a human.
Vhere is Julie, da?
France was startled by the tap he received on his shoulder. The sight he was met with was not one he wanted to see. He resolved he was just going to have to hold out, because Hungary was occupied with the bills and the paperwork.
"'Allo Russie. W'at brings you 'ere?" His voice was filled with a snarky feel that ticked the Russian man off.
His violet eyes bore through the other's. "I'm here to pick up Jdhuli, da?"
At this point, the girl was signed out, and Hungary came to the Frenchman's recuse.
"Get out of here Oroszország. The child is under my protection." She snarled to her ex-possessor.
The large man towered over the Hungarian in an attempt to make her bite her tongue. When the other did no such thing, he smiled. France watched as they glared at each other. He left with Jérôme to start the car so they could get the girl out of there as fast as they could.
"You v'ere always the defiant one, da? Maybe v'e can fi–"
The one from before rushed between them in a fit of laughter. Russia's smile faltered as his gaze followed the contours of the chair, to the person's face. Right there, as though it had been forever, sat Julie in a grey-colored wheelchair.
"You know," she started with a wide, crooked smile plastered on her face, "once you get the hang of this, it's kinda like a… a… a bike? All I need is two pairs of rockets on either side, and I'll be a one man army!"
Julie made fake guns with the pointer fingers of either hands; "Pew! Pew, pew, pew! Pew, pew, pew!"
Hungary smiled sweetly; the girl was just too much. "It seems that you've become accustomed to your new situation."
"Yes…" the girl trailed off. "but I'll still need Jérôme to help me with stairs and cars."
"When will I be allowed to walk again? I don't want to gain weight from idleness."
The female nation just couldn't take it anymore. She let out a loud burst of laughter. "You're just like me when I was younger! But I'm not old yet." She winked at the younger girl. "Don't worry Yuhlia, I'll make sure you'll exercise. By the end of the month, you'll be very toned."
The other stared with wide eyes. "Toned? 'Never though I could be toned. That'd be cool."
She looked between Russia and Hungary before realizing who was there. Her lips struggled with the proper accent and the letters that seemed to disappear behind their comrades. "Puh- pruh- preiviette! Was that right?"
Ivan squatted down in front of her and stared at her for a bit. Her hair had that fluffy, whipped chocolate look to it, and her cheeks were both high and full. Her eyes were perfectly framed under the massive, triangular, pleated eyebrows of her face. Sure, she was lovely, but she wasn't like the other pretty women of the world; thin necks and faces – with dainty noses hung above full, acrylic red lips. She looked like the child she acted like, but he was quite sure if he pulled back her hair into a slicked back bun and ripped the innocent look from her, she could be another Marilyn Monroe.
He puled himself from his mind, back to the real world. "Privyet suggests that v'e are friends. Are v'e friends?"
"Da." She said with a serious look that soon cracked into a million giggles. "I love the way that sounds."
Hungary watched as the scenario unfolded before her. And if she told you one thing, it'd be that she didn't like it. It wasn't that she was in favor of convicting one man to an eternity of loneliness, but… she felt it was her duty to protect Julie.
And it only became worst as Russia picked up the girl, forcing Julie to wrap her arms around the Russian man's neck, and left the building with her. She ran after the two in an attempt to save the child.
SWL
The car swerved down the street to the entrance of the hospital where a tall figure was carrying a smaller figure. America parked haphazardly near the entrance, and raced out of the car. England yelled at the other as he got out and ran after him; "Slow down git!"
"Get your fucking red hands off my citizen!"
Arthur could see as Alfred pulled his .45 revolver from the right pocket of his coat. The girl let out a shrill scream; her face became twisted, and she cried out pleas for him to put the gun away.
"Please! I beg of you! Put it away!" She buried her head into the shoulder of the Russian man.
Ivan smirked as America tried to figure what he had done wrong. England angrily snatched the gun from the other and put it into his coat.
"This is what happens when you act too hastily, git!"
Hungary came bursting through the doors of the hospital as France ran to the situation.
"What have you done to her!" yelled Hungary into pure frustration; Julie had passed out in her fit of horror. Elizabeta shot America a signal, who nodded. She kicked Ivan in the back as the American dove to catch the girl. Both England and France couldn't believe what was going down. And next thing they knew, Jérôme was rushing to get the chair from the hospital lobby, Hungary was fighting off Russia – trying to get to the car, and America was buckling the girl in the backseat of his car.
France pushed both the human man and Elizabeta into the car. He hoped in, speeding off with the wheel chair in the trunk as Russia pulled his car out of its parking spot. America had already fled, pedal to the metal, leading the whole steeplechase.
LTR
The doors burst open; through them came England and France. They seemed jittery and wound-up, for an unknown reason. The yelling died – an unusual twist of fate.
"Ah," Germany spoke from the podium, "youh have arrived. Vhere iz zhe gurhl?" He stepped down and made his way around the table.
Francis caught his breath; "She iz in Amerique's room for safety reasons."
Ludwig quirked an eyebrow as he slowed. There had been no mention of security threats during the fiasco of last week. "Safety reasons?"
England butted in; "Russia is after the child. We don't know why, but he nearly kidnapped her at the hospital. She with America, because if Russia happens to attack, he's possibly the only one of us who can get back up quickly, as much as I hate admitting it."
Multiple gasps, scoffs, and murmurs went around the table. Russia was at it again!
The German sat there, and thought. This was going to be a bit difficult. They had resources, but so did Russia. He declared that the meeting was not to be canceled; everyone still had duties to attend to. But, in order to keep Russia off the child's trail, she was to be passed from country to country. All of the nations wrote their name on pieces of paper, and picked names, blindfolded. The list was written quite quickly, in order to finish before Russia came. It went a little bit like this;
Turkey
Australia
Canada
Austria
Portugal
France
Mexico
Poland
Belorussia
Netherlands
Romania
Greece
Chile
Romano Italy
Lithuania
Veneziano Italy
Latvia
China
Tunisia
Ireland
Iceland
Estonia
Hungary
Argentina
Brazil
South Korea
Ukraine
Scotland
Spain
Germany
Denmark
Japan
Morocco
Cuba
Sweden
Belgium
Thailand
Norway
Switzerland,
and so. Of course – Russia excluded.
So when Ivan happened to barge through the doors, full-fledged anger, and stumbled upon a simple world meeting, he put it on his list of things to do after the meeting.
DTN
America undressed out of his suit, which was completely drenched in manly American man sweat, and decided to take shower. He placed the dirty dress clothes on a nearby chair, and hurried to the other side of the room. He grabbed a towel from the little clothes pantry near the hotel's room bathroom. Alfred entered the shower and turned it on with a pull of the knob. He cursed loudly from the sudden spray of cold water, but slowly relaxed into the muscle-soothing hot water that came soon after.
The sound of water woke Julie from her hazy sleep. She tried to get up, but the pain in her torso brought her back down. She lifted herself from the bed with a grunt, and in a fog, began to undress. First the shirt, then the sweatpants. She kicked off the socks lazily and stripped from her bra and panties. Surprisingly, it felt good to be naked. Julie groped her way to a dresser and found a pair of guy's underwear. She shrugged and slipped on the white briefs, and then a pair of flannel red-white-n'-blue pajama pants.
The girl shuffled back to bed as unhurriedly as she could, in order to avoid any pain, and crawled under the covers. She fell back asleep, back into the mercy of her horrible nightmares.
America came out from the bathroom all refreshed, ready for bed, when he saw his young citizen already snuggled into it. He changed into a pair of briefs and began desperately searching for his favorite American Flag pj's. When he couldn't find them, he settled for his army pj's.
Alfred crawled into the sheets. "My pj's! How did she–? He then saw a glimpse of white and pulled the pj's down just a bit. "Dude! My underwear!"
And that's when he realized something. She wore nothing on top, and all you could see was her chest, partially covered by her hair. He gulped as he settled in the bed slowly. When the girl felt the bed dip, she latched onto him unconsciously, leaving America to deal with a growing problem all night.
From the doorway glared a pair of green eyes enviously.
Translations;
[Bonne journée, Monsieur France.] Have a good day, Mister France.
[…Tortellini Ripieni di Formaggio…] …Tortellini filled with cheese…
[Bonjour mes amis.] Good day my friends.
[Frankreich!] France!
[Monsieur Bonnefoy! L'hôpital m'a téléphoné! Julie s'est réveillé de son coma hier!] Mister Bonnefoy! The hospital just called me! Julie has woken from her a coma yesterday!
[…Peugeot 107…] Check this awesome French junk out here; http:/ . com /2008/10/ nice-red-peugeot-107 .html Just connect the spaces.
[Italien! Gehen Sie schneller!] Italy! Walk faster!
[Guten Morgen.] Good Morning.
[Entschuldigung…] Sorry…
[…Tempest colored Renault Clio…] More awesome French junk here; http:/ . uk/haywards-heath/used-cars/renault-clio/ renault-clio-tempest -SN5826139 Just connect the spaces.
[…Oroszország.] …Russia.
[Privyet…] Informal 'Hello…'
Okay, well, the list is true. Whereee… going around the world in eighty days, 'X' marks the spot. Comma, comma, comma, comma, ques-tion-mark. See ya'll too-murrow!