Scattered droplets of rain sprayed out around Arthur's feet as he hurtled across the deserted car park. Rain crashed down around him, echoing in his ears and forcing his clothes to cling uncomfortably against his skin. Slipping and almost colliding with the door, Arthur managed to pull himself up short just in time. Hurriedly, Arthur pulled the glass door open and skittered inside. He groaned as he realised exactly who was loitering in the doorway.
"Dude, you'd think with your weather you'd bring an umbrella, like, everywhere," Alfred grinned, obviously gleeful at Arthur's bedraggled appearance, eyes running up and down him with a smirk. "You're soaked."
"Thank you for that update. I wasn't aware," Arthur snapped back, relieved that someone else had effectively taken the decision of running back through the rain away from him.
"No problem," Alfred sniggered, leaning back against one of the clear panes that surrounded the glass doors.
Arthur wriggled out of his wet jacket, holding it awkwardly as he refused to drop it on the floor and soak the carpet and more than he already had just by trekking all the water in. He gave Alfred a pointed look; the younger nation looked back at him blankly for a few seconds, so Arthur just threw the soaked clothing at him.
Ignoring Alfred's protests Arthur took off his shoes and socks, dutifully ignoring how he was starting to shiver violently.
"You just going to strip off and walk around like that?" Alfred said with surprise. "Not very professional, is it Artie?"
"Arthur," Arthur corrected. "And don't be ridiculous. I left some spare clothes here the first day we arrived- it's always good to be prepared."
"You are so sad," Alfred said cheerfully.
Arthur snorted and began to walk away down the corridor, searching for the room he'd left the change of clothes in. He shivered again, taking off his wet tie as he walked, now left in just his shirt and trousers.
"How much have I missed?" he asked Alfred, who'd sped up a little to walk next to him, happily trailing his wet jacket on the ground.
"Not much. Grouchy Ludwig. Couple of minor riots. It's all good, really. Why were you late, anyway?
"Flat tire. Four of them. I left it on the road last night rather than parking it properly, because I was so knackered last night... Bet some bastard let them down. I had to get a taxi in, the driver was an idiot, and the gates wouldn't let him in because they've got instructions only to let official cars within this property because of the bloody summit. So I had to run in from there even though it's absolutely chucking it down."
"Not your day," Alfred said, stepping a little closer and sounding a bit sympathetic, to Arthur's gratification.
"Not my day," he acknowledged. Stopping outside one of the closed doors along the corridor, Arthur pulled it open.
"No, idiot, you stay here," Arthur ordered when Alfred attempted to go in in front of him. "Unless you want to see me strip?" he asked sarcastically, slipping past him and closing the door.
His own words reminded him faintly of what Francis had said the day before, in the bathroom. While Arthur was still firmly convinced he was just being paranoid, it did prompt a question.
"Have you seen Francis yet, Alfred? Was he in the meeting?" he called through the door as he took his clothes out of a cupboard on the wall, dropping them on the little table in the centre of the room.
"Yeah, why?"
"Just wondering," Arthur replied as he pulled off his shirt, placing it over the back of a chair. "Was he okay?"
"Looked a bit jittery, actually. He went out about half way through to get a drink, then he didn't come back for a bit so I went to find him with Mattie and he said he was going to lie down somewhere for a bit."
"He's sick?"
"Sounded it."
"Did he say where he went?"
"Nope, but he said he'd come back for the second half after lunch if he felt better."
Arthur frowned as he pulled off his trousers, having gotten on a fresh shirt while they were talking. He thought he heard a soft beep from outside, presumably from his phone in the jacket Alfred was still holding, but ignored it as he finished dressing.
"You can come in," he said to Alfred, putting on dry socks and vaguely wishing he'd been prepared enough to leave a spare pair of shoes.
Alfred traipsed in with the jacket as Arthur moved to put his wet things on one of the radiators. Then, deciding that his dignity was mostly shot anyway, he slid down the radiator and leaned against it, relishing in the warmth of it. He closed his eyes, ignoring Alfred, and leant his head back against the warm metal and briefly wished for a cup of tea to make this momentary haven complete.
His eyes snapped open again as he felt someone's fingers ruffling his hair.
"You look so adorable all rumpled up," Alfred smiled, sitting down next to him and laughing as Arthur batted his hand away.
"Piss off, git," he responded without any real venom, closing his eyes again.
"Aww, but you are," Alfred insisted, and Arthur could hear him shifting about.
"Sure. Pass me my jacket please," Arthur said, holding one hand out in front of him without opening his eyes. When the damp weight met his fingers he pulled it back towards him and searched for his phone in its pockets by memory. Pulling out the device, he automatically hit the buttons that would show him his messages and only then opened his eyes.
"That's strange." The screen was informing he had no missed messages, or calls. "I thought I heard it go a couple of times this morning."
"What?"
"Yes; just now, I swear I heard it."
"Nah, that was mine. Mattie wants to know where I am."
Arthur gave his phone another confused look, but shrugged it off. Sending a brief text to Francis to find out where he was, he relaxed back against the radiator though it was now getting to the stage that it would be uncomfortably hot.
Internally, Arthur began working up the motivation to get up and start to catch up on a mornings work missed. As if he sensed this desire to start actually doing something Alfred let out a faint groan and dropped his head onto Alfred's shoulder.
"What?" Arthur asked, lifting the shoulder up and watching Alfred's head bob about with faint amusement.
"Don't lea-ve," Alfred replied, tone a little bit desperate beneath the whine. "I'm tired."
"Why?"
"Well, it takes a lot of energy to be as heroic as I am. I rescued you from the rain and hypothermia today."
"You did no such thing."
"Well, I helped."
"That makes you a sidekick, does it not?"
Arthur laughed at the traumatised expression on Alfred's face. "Okay, fine. Five minutes. But then you have to get up, you lazy lump. I want to go find Francis before I go apologise to Ludwig for being late."
Not registering Alfred tense ever so slightly on his shoulder, Arthur looked up at the ceiling absently.
"You know, times like this make me remember why I thought you were a cute child."
"What, you don't now? No fair, Artie! I bet I was adorable."
"Mm. Too bad you grew up to be a right little terror."
"I am not a terror," Alfred protested, head weighing a little heavier on Arthur's shoulder as he relaxed into their usual squabbling.
"You aren't so much now," Arthur admitted.
"What am I now?"
"Just an irritating doofus. You've been demoted from terror."
"Not too far from being adorable again though, right?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to view you like you're a child again? There was a war over that, remember? You can't change your mind now."
"I don't want you to view me as a child," Alfred agreed vehemently. "I'm not. But you can't not recognise that I'm awesome."
"You sound like a cross between Peter and Gilbert," Arthur responded. "You need to work on that."
Alfred punched his shoulder and opened his mouth to respond when Arthur's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and, raising an eyebrow slightly at Alfred's penetrating gaze, opened the message.
Francis looked almost like he was sleeping.
The hinges of the cupboard let out a soft whine of displeasure as Matthew closed them. Soft purple eyes glanced over to the firmly shut door and then back to Frenchman. Francis lay immobile, stretched out along the length of the bed, head against the pillow and arms at his side. His shoes were neatly placed against the wall, jacket on a hook. Matthew sat down in one of the two white chairs and looked at the still man silently. Both their phones lay on the counter top next to the sink.
It hadn't been anything like difficult to get Francis here. He wasn't heavy, and Matthew was strong. And he was invisible. It was shocking how easily people's eyes slipped over him, even when he had an arm wrapped round Francis' waist and was holding the limp Frenchman's arm round his own shoulder and was all but dragging him along. Shocking. And that was why Matthew had been the one to do it, not Alfred. Alfred was far too garish.
But he was also far more sly than most gave him credit for. Most recognised his intelligence eventually, no matter how well it was camouflaged by his lack of common sense. But sly? Never. But it was Alfred who'd planned this whole merry murder.
Because clearly Francis hadn't been feeling well. He'd left the meeting early, hadn't he, and America and the other one had followed him like caring little nations and relayed the information he'd gone for a lie down. And here he was, wasn't he? In a medical room, the only place in the building with a bed, having a little rest. So convenient that he would be in a place with well-stocked medication.
And when you're sick, your thoughts can get slurred. Forgetful.
Just imagine.
Matthew's gaze slid from Francis closed eyes to the phones. How irritating he would feel now a sense of dim guilt. From the phones to the empty packet of paracetamol next to them.
Closing his eyes, Matthew leant back against the wall and turned his fact up to the ceiling. He contemplated the light staining his eyelids red as he thought. ArthurAlfredFrancis. ArthurAlfredFrancis.
Worth it?
Maybe.
Matthew opened his eyes again and knelt down next to the bed, eyes fixed distastefully on Francis' face. It had felt so good to punch him. But this didn't feel anything like as satisfying. Waiting for the drugs seemed so unfitting.
There was a sound outside and Matthew sprang to his feet and scooped up his phone in one fluid movement. He made to move towards the door and almost crashed straight into someone as they opened it.
For a second he was irrational; his mind empty. "Arthur!"
"No way, Birdie. What the hell is up with you?" Gilbert shoved past him, Antonio following him. "Why the hell would-" The words died, not even the faintest echo of them in the room.
Matthew turned rapidly, expression frightened and panicked. "I thought you were him because I- I called Arthur- Francis isn't moving."
Gilbert swore, eyes standing out even blood-red brighter than usual as his face paled. "Frannie? Francis!" he snapped, both hands going to his friend's wrist.
"He's still breathing," Antonio said rapidly, all traces of his usual cheer and complacency gone. His gaze was sharp as he took in the room, Gilbert nodding as he let go of Francis' wrist.
While their backs were turned, Matthew rapidly sent a text with one hand, the same message to both Alfred and Arthur- though he knew that Alfred's would be switched off. His brother would be the most likely person he'd call if this situation of panic was a real one. Shoving his phone into his pocket before either of the older nations noticed, he hoped that no-one would think too hard about the logic of sending a text when he could have called.
"What the fuck happened?" Gilbert snapped urgently, looking up on Matthew as Antonio pulled Francis upright, pulling back one of his eyelids gently.
Retreating backwards with his hands up Matthew shook his head frantically, eyes wide and worried. "I don't know- I only got here a second ago- I told Arthur and Alfred and then I was coming out and you-"
"Did you call an ambulance?" the Prussian said brusquely, and Matthew hung his head.
Antonio was on the phone in seconds, moving back out the room for more space.
"I'm sorry-"
"Mattie, now is so far from being the time," Gilbert replied, freezing as his eyes fell on the paracetamol packet. "Oh fucking shit."
"What's happened?" Matthew's neck twinged painfully as he looked round quickly to see Alfred and Arthur running towards them, Arthur leading.
Matthew stepped back into the wall as the English nation rushed past him without sparing any of them a glance.
"Francis?"
The name shattered and broke in the air as Arthur breathed it out. Shards lodged in Matthew's throat as he flinched away from the pain and he did not look at Alfred as he silently speculated that he might have done something wrong.
So when I published the first part, I didn't really have any intention at all to continue it past that. I really thought that was where it finished. A lot of you lovely peoples who reviewed diagreed with me, so I tried really hard to find out what happened next. It really didn't work for me. But it definitely stayed in my mind, even after all these months, and eventually I found out what happened next. So this still won't be a long one, but here you are all those that have been waiting, if you've been waiting. Here, for all and anything that it is worth to you, it is.