Arthur (April 2, Monday)

I glanced at the clock, annoyed. There was still forty-five minutes left of class. I sighed, making a face as I turned back to the assignments I was looking over. Suddenly, my phone started ringing and I resisted the urge to snap at some kids who snickered. The name on the caller ID didn't surprise me as Gilbert was, in fact, missing. I flipped open my phone and answered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's really…wrong," Elizabeta answered cautiously. The tone in her voice told me differently. "It's just…these kids are here to see you. Their names are Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. I didn't really ask for their story but…"

At first, my subconscious wouldn't let me absorb what I'd heard. How long ago had it been since I'd been disappointed by those names? This was too much. This was too soon. "Are you serious?" I asked anyway, my heart beating at a rapid pace. I guess my voice had risen a little because some of my students turned to look curiously at me.

"Yes. I think that they look a lot like you and Francis…" Her voice faded as she shouted, "Gilbert, knock it off! I told you, you can't buy those! I'll call Roderich in!" Then she was back, voice as pleasant as ever. "Sorry. Anyway, I told them to wait around until you got back."

However, I didn't respond to the bit about the boys right away. Instead, I grasped at a distraction. "Gilbert's there?" That didn't amuse me and it got me angry enough to clear my head and focus a little better. My sons could be sitting at Elizabeta's store and I was stuck in this classroom until two-fifteen. I suddenly felt rather fidgety.

Elizabeta made some sort of noise of acknowledgment. "Yeah, unfortunately," she muttered, irritated. She was still young, twenty or twenty-one – I couldn't remember – and oftentimes let herself sound like a teenager again. While it seemed to annoy a lot of older people in town, I thought it was a funny trait of hers.

"Well, that explains why my classroom is so quiet," I mused, thinking back on what she'd said about Alfred and Matthew. "Did you ask them where they're from?"

"Um…No…" Her hesitance worried me and I started gnawing on my lower lip. "I suppose I can ask if you want. Arthur, are you okay? You're much calmer than I thought you'd be."

"I can't very well get all worked up in the middle of my class, Elizabeta," I reminded her softly. Most of the students who had turned to look at me had turned back to their work but their presence still bothered me. "And besides, neither of us are sure who exactly they are, right?"

"Yeah… Oh, hold on." Her voice faded as she started talking to a customer – not Gilbert from what I could tell. While I waited, I flipped unseeingly through the papers on my desk. It was mostly late work so I knew whatever score they got would be dropped a few points; therefore, I wasn't very worried about grading them at the moment. I wrote the date at the top of a worksheet so I wouldn't forget when they'd turned it in. "Alfred said they're from Alabama. Or, they grew up there. But they weren't born there. He's confusing me."

I frowned, remembering the Anderson boys Antonio and his friends had been talking about last month. "Hmm. Sounds like an interesting story. I'll be happy to hear it when I get off but I have papers to grade, Elizabeta. The end of the term is next week."

Elizabeta let out a frustrated cry. "I know that! That's why I'm going to call Alderich when I'm done talking to you." Gilbert shouted a protest in the background. "But you should seriously meet these boys. They're going to wait for you to get home anyway. So wouldn't you rather face it sooner rather than later?"

"Not really," I admitted. Some sort of burning hurt ignited in my chest. "I really don't feel like getting my hopes up again. It's been twelve years. Why would they be here?" This sparked more interest around the classroom; those who knew my story looked over at me with eyebrows raised.

I received silence on the other end for a minute or two; a sick sense of triumph welled in my chest until I heard a new voice, "Arthur Bonnefoy?"

"Yes…" I replied slowly, confused. "Who is this?"

"My name is Alfred F. Jones. I'm really sorry to be bothering you at work – I'm sure that you have better things to be doing. But Matthew, my brother, convinced me to try and talk to you real quick," Alfred explained in a rather cheery voice. His brother cried something to the effect of "I did no such thing". I couldn't help but snicker at that. "So, the short version of our story is that we were raised in Alabama and it wasn't until sometime last month that Matthew found our adoption papers. That's great and all except I couldn't get any sort of information about our adoption. It was like there was no trail to follow and our parents refused to say anything on the matter. Well, then I found your story. Your sons were kidnapped about the same time we were supposedly adopted. We'd really like to meet you. Prove or disprove that we're your kids. We can find something to do until you get back here, if you need to stay late. That's okay."

He was so friendly and confident. For a minute, I couldn't get past that. If I hadn't actually heard what he was saying, he might have been talking about his favorite TV show. But once his story sunk in, I couldn't bring myself to say a word. The idea was swimming in my head. "Um…" I started but my voice gave the same instant. I stood up and paced the back of my classroom until I could talk again. "Well, I suppose I could be back by three… How old are you?"

There was a pause and then Alfred replied, "I'm seventeen, I think…" He sounded hesitant now, like he was afraid that this information might instantly prove him wrong – which, in a way, did. "But I've heard a lot of people say I look too young to be so old." He laughed and I figured he must know that made little to no sense.

"I'll hear you out when I get there, okay?" I settled on saying after a moment of puzzling over his statement. He agreed happily and gave the phone back to Elizabeta. "Why'd you to that?"

"You wouldn't listen," she answered simply. "Anyway, I know you're super busy so I'll let you go. See you at three!" Then she hung up.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and stared at it as the screen blinked back to my wallpaper. I'd finally stopped pacing but I realized that my movement had attracted some attention from my class. I looked at them, unable to show them how not amused I was by their inactivity. "Don't you have a test to be taking?" I asked, my voice slightly weaker than I would have liked. They all turned back to their tests and sounds of pencils scribbling on paper filled the room. Sighing, I went and sat back down at my desk. However, I knew there was no chance I'd ever be able to get any work done now. I sat there, tapping a pencil against my desk until I decided to text Francis.

The moment I'd set my phone aside, one of my students, Heracles, wandered up to hand in his test. "You know, it's hypocritical for you to tell us not to use our phones when you can use yours…" he muttered but I wasn't sure if he really wanted me to say anything back to him. Heracles was one of my favorite students, not because he was an angel in class or always made it easy for me to give him good grades. No, he was one of my favorites because he was interesting. I wasn't ever sure what to think of him. He was somewhere around average height, had a rather slender build but always looked tired and like he'd be more willing to be anywhere else but where he was at that moment.

"Well, if you ever have a life emergency, let me know and then maybe you'd be able to use your phone. As it stands, no one in this classroom besides myself has a good reason to be using them," I replied simply. His olive green eyes searched my face questioningly before he decided something and shrugged.

"I suppose that's true," Heracles mused, his thoughts seeming to drift off. "So if my sister were to break her leg while carrying heavy boxes up stairs and all she could think was to call me, I could use my phone?"

I stared blankly at him for a moment before smiling. Always the philosopher, I thought sarcastically. "You don't have a sister." His lips twitched in a lazy sort of smile in return. "But, yes, I suppose that would classify as an emergency."

"I wonder if I could convince my father to adopt a little girl…" His statement was obviously for my amusement as he walked away after saying it. I snorted and looked down at my papers again, flipping through and putting the date in the right hand corner of each one. After that, I started correcting tests as students handed them in. Heracles had successfully distracted me. I shook my head as I realized that. But it made me wish that more of my students were respectful. I'd only encountered one student that had respect for his elders – he'd graduated a year ago and was now working at Elizabeta's store, though.

My mind wandered after awhile of staring at test answers that made me wonder if I needed to improve my lectures or if the students just took pleasure in failing – or, in some cases, both. There were only ten minutes left and no one was testing anymore. I stood up and walked to the front of the classroom, leaning against the whiteboard. I was relieved when the room quieted rather quickly. "So, the term ends next Thursday. I want all work in by next Tuesday so I can get it all into the computer. However, that doesn't mean you should rush to get every assignment you've failed to turn into me on my desk on that day. I hope that you have a little more sympathy than that." A few kids smiled and giggled. "Other than that, we'll have a catch-up day Wednesday and start on unit seven Friday." I glanced at the clock and said, "Now let's start the week off nicely and everybody get out of my classroom."

Almost all the students cheered as they gathered their stuff and left. A few of the students remembered to thank me on their way out. Once the classroom was empty, I frowned. It was time for me to face Alfred and Matthew. Sighing, I pushed off the board and went to my desk to pack up for the day.

X x X

It was three-ten when I walked into Elizabeta's store. She came to greet me almost immediately after she saw me but I noticed two boys standing by the checkout counter, nibbling on chocolate bars and looking utterly bored. My entrance sparked some interest in them, however. And it was the moment that they looked over at me that I knew exactly who they were. I sucked in a sharp breath as Elizabeta introduced Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams. "So, you came all the way from Alabama just to talk to me?" I asked after Elizabeta had disappeared in a back room.

"Yup!" Alfred declared, grinning from ear to ear. I tried really hard not to melt at his thrilled expression but it didn't work. I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "Look, we knew it'd be hard to believe. So I remembered to bring something that I dug out of my closet before we left." He reached into one of his pockets and brought out a little blue book. I had to do a double-take. It was navy blue with a grass green stripe down the front. In bold black letters down that stripe was the name, "Alfred." My smile instantly vanished and my insides quivered a little with anxiety. "It's probably not much of a clue but I flipped through it and...I don't know. It's just my little kid self rambling, maybe. Take a look?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had that?" Matthew accused. I barely noticed as I reached for the book. At first, I didn't dare open it. It seemed too unreal and I was afraid that if I opened the book, there would be words I couldn't read – like in a dream – and I would wake up, heartbroken. But, finally, I opened it.

The first page was occupied by a doodle that brought back a fresh wave of pain as memories flooded my mind. I remembered the day I'd given Alfred the book. He'd run to get a crayon and immediately drew the picture of our family before I could explain it was to write in. I turned the page and read the first entry. It made me remember the days after I'd given him the book; every time I passed a room, it had seemed, he'd been writing in it. "Where did you get this?" I asked, unable to actually believe that he hadn't picked it up somewhere.

"When I was little," Alfred replied simply. "I don't remember when or who gave it to me but I remember writing later entries in it so I know I've had it for a really long time." His voice wavered at the end and then he added, "I also know it's mine because it mentions the Andersons by their name and not 'mom and dad' in earlier entries. The Andersons were our supposedly adoptive parents."

After a moment or two, I looked up at him. His blue eyes caught me and drew me in. "I gave this book to you when you turned four." His expression instantly changed from apprehensive to surprised. Several minutes went by and none of us seemed to be able to find words for what was running through our heads. Or at least, that was my case. "I'm sure I have plenty of questions but what about you?" I managed to ask once I'd gotten past my initial panic of their health. They both seemed to be fairly well – tall and lean but pretty built. At most, they seemed slightly underfed.

They looked at each other and then back at me. I expected Alfred to start because he seemed to be spokesperson but it was Matthew who asked, "What's our birthday?"

The lack of plural made me curious. "Alfred's is July fourth and yours is July first." They both made a face that clearly showed that they didn't understand something. "What?"

"Oh," Alfred said. "It's just we were raised thinking we were twins and our birthday was in August." He shrugged. "So how old am I then?"

This confused me more than the last question. I figured that since they hadn't been kidnapped on their birthday, their fake parents wouldn't know what their birthday was. But wouldn't they have asked the boys their ages? "You're sixteen and Matthew is fifteen." They took a moment to absorb that and then they took turns asking questions. Their inquiries ranged from simple things like what life used to be like before they were taken to more complicated and confusing things like what hospital they were born in and how life has been for Francis and I. I hadn't thought that my sons wouldn't know how old they were or what their birthdays were. But the truth also was that, deep down, I'd believed that I wouldn't ever see them alive again.

Finally, their questions slowed until it seemed that they couldn't think of any more to ask at that moment. They paused and then Alfred asked, "So what now?"

I'd been smiling, listening to them throw question after question at me and seeing how happy it made them to get their answers. But now I frowned, considering it. "Oh, wait!" I suddenly remembered, reaching into my pocket. I'd texted Francis but hadn't bothered to wait for his reply. Normally, I didn't text him at work so when I flipped open my phone and saw three messages, I knew I'd worried him. "Let me call Francis really fast. And then…" I hesitated. "Home?"

Both boys grinned from ear to ear. "Yeah, okay," Matthew agreed, letting slip more enthusiasm than he had until this point. I speed dialed Francis, now smiling again.

"Bonjour," Francis greeted, rather calmly for his next statement. "Are you finally going to tell me what's wrong?"

I laughed, knowing that had been my first reaction. If Francis was anything like me – and he could be sometimes but more often he wasn't – he would need me to explain why I trusted that these boys in front of me were our children. "Nothing is wrong, I promise. But I wanted to tell you some good news. I also figured I should warn you before you get home."

There was a pause on his end and then he asked, warily, "How is it good news and a warning at the same time, miel?" I hadn't thought of how that would sound but now I felt bad that I'd worded it that way.

"It is good news but I didn't want you to be surprised to walk into our house to see our boys sitting in our living room," I replied honestly and Alfred snickered, obviously enjoying the idea. I, however, did not want my husband to have a heart attack. "Alfred and Matthew searched us out and I've been talking to them for the past…" I glanced down at my watch, surprised as I said, "Hour. But anyway, I wanted to let you know before you got home."

Francis didn't respond right away and I had a feeling that I knew what was going on in his head. "Mon chère, are you sure it's them?" He was trying to be skeptical about the situation – as I had – but his hopefulness was seeping through with more brilliance than I'd managed while talking to Elizabeta.

"Yes," I declared confidently. I looked back up at Alfred and Matthew who stared curiously back at me. "I'm sure."

"Well, then…I'll be home in about an hour," he replied hesitantly, a slight tone of disbelief in his voice. "Are… D'accord. I will see you soon then." I agreed and we said goodbye.

I put my phone away and said, "So, assuming that you didn't hitchhike all the way here, you'll follow me in your car?"

"That's the plan," Alfred replied happily. Then he turned to his brother. "And I get to drive because as of this moment, you aren't allowed to drive."

"My driver's license does look to be null and void now…" Matthew muttered, sounding a mixture of disappointed and relieved.

Elizabeta came out from the back room with Roderich following. "You've been standing in my store for an hour. Did you finally get everything sorted out?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yup," Alfred cried enthusiastically and his brother flinched openly. "Thanks so much for putting up with us," he laughed.

She grinned. "No problem. Hope everything works out!" Roderich looked utterly confused and I wondered if she'd told him anything. "Oh, have you seen Gilbert around?" she asked, glancing around the store.

"No," Matthew answered, his voice definitely holding a tone of relief for this fact. "He disappeared at around two-forty-five, I think. He hasn't come back."

Elizabeta considered this and shrugged, turning to me. "Alderich hasn't come by, has he?" I shook my head. "Well, either Alderich caught him or he's still busy and I get to tell him his grandson ran off again." Then she laughed. "At least that makes this a normal end to my day."

I smiled, knowing she was definitely right about that much. At least she had something normal to do after a very odd day. I doubted that I would have that luxury. "We best be off so we don't make Basch suspicious of us."

"Oh, he wouldn't be over here unless I called and I haven't had the need to today," she replied lightly. "But I'm sure you do have other stuff to do. I'll talk to you later, then!" We all said our goodbyes and then left. Alfred and Matthew climbed into their car and I got into mine. Shortly after, I was leading them home. To me, the entire idea was strange. The overwhelming joy that filled me made me realize just how sure I'd been about never seeing my sons again. This was something I'd never thought would happen in this lifetime. I'd never imagined that I could have my sons again.

~XxX~

Francis (April 2, Monday)

When I first climbed into my car, I couldn't bring myself to do anything except shut the door. Arthur had sounded so sure but the possibilities had never been good in my eyes. Why would Alfred and Matthew – assuming they were alive – have decided to search us out? How would they have known about us or where to look? As much comfort as I'd always given Arthur, I'd never felt that my words were close to true. Sometimes, I would feel guilty for practically outright lying to him but I hated seeing him so upset over something we could do nothing about now. I sighed and rested my head on my steering wheel, feeling that familiar ache in my chest when I let my reality hit me. "Oh, mon chère, comment pourrions-nous espérer pour autant?" I whispered into the silence, knowing no answer would ever come of my question.

Reluctantly, I sat up again and pulled my keys from jacket pocket. I found the right key and put it in the ignition, starting the car. As if on autopilot, I switched the gears and backed out of my parking space before shifting again and heading out to the main street. I knew that it was wrong not to believe my wife when it was such an important thing to the both of us but the idea was so insane, I couldn't help it. There was no way for me to accept the idea that our sons – twelve years after their abduction – could suddenly be alive, well, and home once more.

I drove silently home, contemplating who could have possibly fooled Arthur, why and how. Unless he was imagining the entire thing, nothing made sense any way I looked at it. Weary and cautious, I pulled into the garage and climbed out of my car. At the door inside, I paused. For a moment, a thundering hope invaded my mind and washed all my doubts out. It was almost enough to make me throw open the door and burst inside. But the impossibility of it all hit me again and I slumped through the doorway and toward the kitchen where all the voices were. Sitting at the end of the table was Arthur and on either side of him were two blonde boys who both looked up at me when I walked in.

"Francis!" Arthur cried, turning around and leaping out of my seat. He bounced over to me and I couldn't help but smile at the energetic way he threw himself into my arms. It had been who knows how long since I'd seen him so happy. It made me feel good but at the same time, I eyed the boys suspiciously. They stared back, uncertain. Arthur stood back and looked into my eyes. I knew instantly what he'd find there and I felt slightly ashamed of it. "I didn't believe it either at first," he surprised me by saying, his voice gentle. "But Alfred showed me something I could believe."

One of the boys, I assumed Alfred, stood up. He was a tall, lean boy with subtle muscles showing in his arms. But his face looked bright and cheerful; his brilliantly blue eyes shone like there was always a light on behind them. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a little navy blue book with a green stripe down the center. It had his name on the front. "It didn't seem like much but I remembered writing some of the later entries in it. And it mentions the Andersons by name – they were our supposedly adoptive parents."

He hesitated and the other boy said, "See, we thought that the Andersons were our parents but last month, I uncovered some adoption papers. Alfred did his best to track down as much information as he could about our supposed adoption but nothing appeared. It was a dead trail from the start. He found your story and it matched all too well with our situation. We had to come out to see if you could prove or disprove us. Arthur's more than confident about it. That doesn't mean we won't do whatever we have to find out for sure, though." His voice was quiet but had a sort of inner strength to it. I considered him. He looked almost identical to his brother except in the hair and glasses. His frame seemed slightly less built than his brother's as well.

But Alfred extended the book toward me and I couldn't resist. I took it and flipped to the first page. It was what I'd wanted to see behind the flap, the picture that would tell the story they didn't know all the way through yet. I glanced at a few of the other entries but didn't really need to. For a moment, I just held the book in my hands. Then I walked forward, set it on the table, turned and left the kitchen. It wasn't that I didn't believe them because I did. I just couldn't face them at that moment. I went to the living room and sat down in my chair, staring out to my diagonal right through the window. The sun was setting, dying the sky orange and pink.

I knew I had to go back out and face them again but at the moment, I wanted to take a deep breath and face the possibility. It was a possibility I thought had died seven years ago, maybe before then. Now my sons were sitting in my kitchen, waiting. I looked down at my hands with a frown. "Francis?" Arthur whispered from the doorway behind me. I didn't bother to move because I knew he was worried enough that he'd walk over soon anyway. "Francis…I…"

"I believe them, that's not my problem," I assured him as he walked over like I'd expected. He sat down on the arm of the chair and wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing his forehead to my hair. "I didn't think it could happen."

He kissed my cheek and said softly, "I didn't think it could either. But they're here. Shouldn't we make the best of that?" A small smile crept to my face as I nodded slightly. "I tried to answer all their questions as best as possible earlier but I'm sure there are some they'd like to ask you as well. And then we get to start asking them things."

I turned my head so our foreheads were pressed up against each other's. "I don't know how you do it," I murmured, my smile growing a little. "You're so amazing…"

"I don't know how I'm any more amazing than usual," he replied. He grinned when I smacked him lightly on the back of his head. "You have to come actually meet them. They're wonderful boys – everything we wanted them to be and they had to figure it out mostly on their own. I'm very proud of them, really."

I gently pressed my lips against his and when I pulled away, I sighed. "Yes, I know I need to come meet them. I have to get up first." He laughed as he got off my chair and stood, waiting for me. I pushed myself out of my chair and wandered over to him, folding him in my arms. "Well, hopefully things will turn out well after tonight, oui?" I smiled.

"I can only hope so," he replied and I was struck with the irony of that statement. For several years, we had tried so hard not to hope for anything relating back to our kids because every time we tried, it would hurt us more than anything else. This time, it seemed that hoping was an option – maybe an only option. While Arthur sounded ready to embrace the idea, I was wary of more pain. But still, I smiled at him. His bright green eyes asked me the simple question I knew he probably couldn't form on his lips. I knew that I had to do my best for him and the kids now. If nothing else, I needed to try my hardest to keep Alfred and Matthew here this time. Everything else, it seemed, would fall into place if I could do that much.

~XxX~

Author's Note: miel – honey

Mon chère – My dear

D'accord – Okay

Oh, ma chère, comment pourrions-nous espérer pour autant? – Oh, my dear, how could we hope for so much?

Sorry if my French isn't…correct in any way. Actually, I'm going to apologize for all the translations in here right now in case they're not right. But I don't think I'll be putting too many phrases in other languages in this story. I like small phrases for the mood or the fluency in the story but going back and forth to a translator gets really old really fast. So hopefully I won't bother you too much with them.

In any case, hope you still like the story. Please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.