Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, there would be a lot more pirate Arthur and his brothers would've made an appearance sooner.
…
There was a lot Arthur learned about Evelyn in the next few days. She disliked tea, but had nearly depleted his supply of hot chocolate; she was curious, but knew when to remain silent; she hated the French (a sentiment he couldn't find fault with), but gave them credit when due, though he couldn't think of an example off the top of his head; most of all, he learned she was an orphan.
The realization came about one day when he, once again, noticed her hand stray to her back pocket where she kept her wallet. The leather square was always with her even when she wasn't going out that day. There were also times when she would just stare at the picture of her parents for hours, oblivious to the world around her.
From what France had told him, that picture was worth more to her than anything else and how that snail-eater knew any information of value he would never know.
Still, he couldn't be entirely sure and so he asked her, "Shouldn't you call someone and let them know you're alive?"
Evelyn looked up from her book slightly panicked. "Oh my god! Jess and Nina are probably worried sick. I'll go call them right now." The girl jumped up and ran to the phone in the hall. It wasn't long before he could hear nervous laughter and apologies.
The Englishman shook his head. She obviously had never considered what was going on at home, only her own situation like a typical American. The American entered the room again about twenty minutes later rubbing her neck sheepishly—his long distance bill would be hell this month.
"I have a cell phone plan specifically for out of country calls," he told her setting down his tea. "It makes my home phone bill cheaper."
"Heh, sorry Artie. You should've told me earlier."
He nodded, asking politely, "How are your friends?"
"They're a little peeved at me, but they understood."
England raised an eyebrow. "You told them you were kidnapped?"
"God no!" She laughed curling herself back into her favorite armchair. "I told them it was a family emergency—my estranged uncles in Europe and stuff like that. I was just in such a rush that I forgot my phone."
"What about your parents? Won't they be worried as well?" He didn't want to bring up the subject, but he had to know for sure.
Her smile disappeared entirely. She averted her gaze to look out the window, towards the sky, saying, "My parents aren't around anymore; they haven't been for a while."
There was a small pang of guilt for bringing up her bad memories. He knew what it was like to lose someone close to you and he hated it when the others would ask if he was all right—he was damn it!—but he still couldn't stop himself from replying, "I'm sorry."
She turned back to him wearing a sad smile. "I'm used to it. Stupid counselors at school try to get me to talk all the time." She shrugged. "I guess they just keep passing the file along hoping the next one will get something out of me."
Arthur nodded. He didn't believe in therapy. There were plenty of people before the concept of therapy had been conceived who dealt with and moved past their problems without paying someone a fortune. He told her as much adding, "You seem to be doing well enough without their help."
"Thanks," she smiled weakly some of her usual brightness shining through immediately followed by an annoyed expression. "Some people try to talk to me like they understand, but they don't."
"Precisely," the Brit responded without thinking. "They believe by asking the same questions repeatedly they can solve a much deeper problem."
He had never been to a psychologist, but the other nations had tried to fill that role; a certain Frenchman in particular had annoyed him to the point where he had stabbed the offending nation with a tea spoon—repeatedly and perhaps a little viciously.
"Exactly!" the American exclaimed gesturing wildly. "See, you get it."
A moment of understanding passed between them. Arthur returned to his book while Evelyn went to the kitchen.
…
To Evelyn, Arthur was a mystery. His house was full of antiques and he acted like an old man, but he didn't look that old—hell, he couldn't even be in his late twenties. During the tour of the city, he would make a comment or answer one of her questions talking like he had been there. It was strange and fascinating all at the same time.
Then again, he had a library overflowing with books of every kind. His history collection could rival that of the National Archives or the British History Museum. She suspected he was a somewhat closet history nerd—she would laugh her head off if she found out he did re-enactments in his spare time.
Perhaps the biggest mystery of all was the way he acted around her. It was as if he was searching for something, waiting for her to do something (though what she had no idea). He never smiled and there were times when his scowl only deepened—mostly during her more idiotic—what he called her "American"—moments.
There was one time in particular that really confused her. She couldn't remember how the subject had come up, but she was telling the Brit a story about one time at a club. A drunkard would not leave Nina alone and, ever the quiet one, Nina had trouble telling him to go away.
Jessica had been on the dance floor and so it was up to Evelyn to help. She had told him in no uncertain terms to back off and he had responded rather crudely. Pissed as all hell, the shorter girl had responded by kicking him in the groin and giving him a bloody nose.
They had been thrown out, but Evelyn didn't regret her actions. "Someone had to be the hero," she remembered saying nonchalant.
Arthur, who had been asking the occasional question as he listened, had gone deathly silent. Putting down his teacup, he excused himself and left the room without another word. She hadn't seen him for the rest of the day.
She did hear him though. Throughout the afternoon, she could hear muted crashes and thumps coming from his office. There was a brief lull around supper, but then the noise started up again; it didn't sound as angry however; it was more rhythmic.
Evelyn stayed in her room listening to the sounds as she lay on her bed on her stomach, cheek resting on her crossed hands. She couldn't help but think she had just done whatever it was the Englishman had been watching for.
Around nightfall, the noise stopped and she began to grow worried. The Englishman had sequestered himself in his study and hadn't even come out for tea. Thinking he must be going through withdrawals, she made a cup of his favorite Earl Grey and knocked on the door.
"Artie?" No answer. She tried again knocking a little louder this time. "Artie, I made you some tea. Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what I said, but…" She tried the handle; it was surprisingly unlocked and so she let herself in.
Arthur was at his desk, head resting on one arm with the other outstretched holding what appeared to be an old-fashioned toy soldier. As silently as possible, she set the rapidly cooling tea at one corner and examined the sleeping Brit. Moonlight streamed through the window muting the colors of the room and highlighting the shadows under the Englishman's eyes. His eyes were puffy, like he had been crying, but he looked content judging by the lack of a scowl; it was also probably the first good sleep he had in days if not longer. He mumbled something unintelligible and shifted minutely still holding onto the wooden soldier.
Evelyn rubbed the back of her neck and bit her lip. It didn't seem right to see the uptight Englishman in such a vulnerable state. She didn't want to wake him, but she couldn't just leave him as is either.
Looking around the room, she spotted a neatly folded blanket sitting on the arm of a chair in the corner. Coming to a decision, she shook it out and gently laid it over Arthur's shoulders being careful not to wake him; he stirred, but remained fast asleep.
Smiling to herself, Evelyn padded out closing the door quietly behind her.
….
A/N: So I'm sorry for the long wait and then the short chapter, but homework and real life slapped me in the face these past couple weeks.
By the way, you all should check out my beta's, FallinSnow, story England's Private Moments. She's showing a different side of our dear Artie and it is hilarious!
Reviews are much loved. Until next time!