Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Honestly, do I even have to put this anymore?
Evelyn paced angrily in Arthur's library. Journals filled with hastily written dreams were spread open at her feet in danger of being kicked across the house in an act of frustration.
It had been a week since the meeting and the dreams—more like nightmares—that had plagued the American in her sleep now occupied her waking hours as well. Her episodes had become more frequent particularly around a certain bushy-eye-browed Englishman. Arthur had begun to separate himself from her leaving early in the morning and not getting back until late when she was already asleep.
Not that she slept much anymore. Dark circles ringed her eyes as testament to the restless nights and strenuous days. Her eyes stung with pins and needles as they rebelled; her body trying to force them close despite her brain keeping them open. She didn't want to close her eyes afraid to see the blood-soaked battlefields, dead and dying men; she didn't want to hear their anguished screams or their cries for mercy. Her eyes watered, her body once again trying to get her to sleep.
Evelyn sighed running her fingers through already messy hair. Everything was border lining on ridiculous. Her emotions were askew with lack of sleep and, despite wanting to talk to Arthur, she also didn't for fear of lashing out at him with no reason other than her own sleep deprived mind.
Not everything was bad. Some of the spells gave her visions of the people she had already met the people who had felt familiar yet she had never seen them in her life, but those spells were few and far between and only served to confuse her more. It was not worth risking the blood and gore to hope for a good spell and sleep.
She thought back to the good spells. The faces were familiar—all representatives from the world meeting—but the dress were from various times through history, from the colonial days of America through what appeared to be World War II (she had talked to someone who looked a lot like Roosevelt). It was all enough to make a girl want to scream! And Arthur's museum-like home wasn't helping any.
The American flopped down beside the two journals flipping through one more time. At the end of each night's entry was the same thing: I'm sorry Iggy. She still woke up to those three words every time. If only she could figure out who the hell "Iggy" was she'd sock him a good one for whatever was done between the two, but the dreams/episodes had yet to reveal that information.
Evelyn slammed the journals shut in disgust. The more information she uncovered, the less she knew. She needed the missing piece of this puzzle; the one thing that would make everything clear. She pulled on her hair in aggravation. Everything felt so hopeless. Despite being kidnapped she had come to think of Arthur's home as a safe haven, somewhere no one would hurt her, somewhere to go where Arthur would defend her, but now the safe haven was more of a prison. She wanted to stay as much as she wanted to leave. She wanted to sit and talk with Arthur about what she saw as much as she wanted to never hear his voice again. She let her shoulders slump before jumping to her feet. There was one other place she had always felt at home, and one other solution to her problems.
She did the only thing she knew when faced with a difficult problem—she went to the library.
Arthur stared at the clock on the wall tapping his pen irritably in time with the ticks. It was already well past ten; the sun had sunk below the horizon hours ago and dark clouds hid a full moon. How fitting that this city—his heart—should reflect his gloomy mood.
He had to send Evelyn home for her own health. The episodes were worse with him around and the girl was about to drop dead from exhaustion. His thoughts strayed to the passport hidden in the desk drawer back home. He should've put her on a plane as soon as it arrived.
The little voice in the back of his head was playing havoc with his thoughts. It blamed him for the condition the girl was now in whispering that it was his entire fault. Another voice spoke whispering at him to keep her, control her, protect her like he couldn't with Alfred. Crazy she may go, but wouldn't crazy and safe be better than feeding her to the wolves? And what was to say once she left him she would get better. What was to say regular humans could help more than he, a nation? He shook his head banishing the thoughts.
Rain began to beat at the window; a staccato rhythm that he had always found comforting in the past, but not now. He scowled slightly at himself and attempted to push everything aside and act normal. The Brit took a sip of tea, grimacing as it had gone cold while he had been lost in thought. There was going to be no normal while he worried about the girl, perhaps now was when he needed to ask for help either from his older siblings or another older nation. Maybe China would have seen something like this and could help? He set the cup to the side with a sigh and retrieved his jacket and umbrella. There was no longer any point in pretending to work. All the staff had already gone home for the evening hours earlier.
England hailed a cab and gave the driver the address settling back in his seat to watch the rain fall on his capitol. There were few people on the streets—mostly pub regulars—and the lack of activity made the depressing scene only more so. He faults the distant call of alcohol to his system. It would defiantly make him forget about the happenings of now. But he didn't want the frog to come get him or, heaven forbid, one of his siblings.
Not far from his house, Arthur saw a drenched figure hurrying along the sidewalk. Long hair was plastered against her face and her bare arms were crossed against her chest to ward off the cold. It took not even half a second to recognize the frame.
"Pull over!" he barked at the driver startling the poor man out of his reverie.
The cabbie did so hurriedly looking in his rearview mirror wide eyed at the business man behind him. Arthur opened the door before the cab had come to a complete stop.
"Evelyn!" the Brit called a hint of worry he wasn't able to conceal in his voice.
She turned to face him water dripping off the end of her nose, running in rivulets down her face. Arthur's heart clenched at the sight. He needed to do something for her even if it was to just knock her out for a good night's sleep. He'd have to find a spell that would let her sleep without dreams maybe the fairies could help, despite the fact they had never really liked the girl. The American looked rather like a drowned rat at that particular moment, and a truly pathetic one as she shivered from a gust of wind.
"Bloody hell; get in before you catch cold." Arthur ordered as he stepped aside.
She didn't hesitate crawling across to the far seat.
They resumed the trip home as the Englishman turned to address his water soaked charge. "What were you thinking you git? If you haven't noticed, it's raining! You should at least have a jacket." He removed his own as he talked wrapping the warm material around her shoulders and pulling her shivering form to his chest. How cold did humans have to get before hypothermia? She was shivering like crazy, sniffling quietly too. The cab driver turned up the heat recognizing the situation and trying to help.
"I-I-I know that!" she defended herself trying to keep her teeth from chattering while pressing against the warmth and comfort he was offering. "It wasn't raining when I left for the library." She had needed this—just a hug, just some physical contact to make her world okay. The curly haired guy with the polar bear came to mind. He would have hugged her too, but she wasn't sure how she knew that.
"You're in England; it rains all the time here and without warning. It's the reason why we always carry umbrellas." Arthur's parental tone was familiar and very welcome in her tired mind.
She curled up, more in his lap now, clutching the coat wrapped around her for warmth. The inside would be as thoroughly soaked as she was, but it would dry.
For once that week, Evelyn didn't have an episode.
Despite Evelyn's small stature, she was also fucking heavy, or maybe he had gotten that weak… no, she was just fucking heavy. Arthur grunted, balancing the girl against his body as he fumbled with the eyes. Water had already drenched his clothing and it was clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
He dropped his keys onto the muddy ground. His car clicker was going to need to be replaced again. There was the sound of the door unbolting as it swung open on its own accord.
"Thanks, for getting the door. Can you find my keys? They're in the puddle somewhere." He maneuvered his way into the house setting the girl on the couch. "Mint Bunny, will you run the hot water in a bath? I need to find some of the girls to bath her." Arthur moved back to the door chattering with invisible forces as he did.
He had convinced them to bathe her and change her clothes for him as long as he took care of himself before he even thought about the girl again.
A warm pair of clothes and an internet search on hypothermia later and Arthur was walking into Evelyn's room. He felt her forehead. She was a little warm, but he would hope it was from the bath. A quick agreement with Mint Bunny to watch over her tonight and he found himself in his own bed. Looking after teenagers was bloody exhausting.
His alarm went off in the morning, though he didn't remember ever turning it on. He would have to leave a bowl of cream out for all of the fairies' help. Maybe two bowls. He slipped quietly down the hall and into Evelyn's room to check her temperature.
She was still warm.
There were signs she had slept fitfully the night before and she hadn't come down for breakfast this morning. Now, she was burning up and he suspected she had caught a cold from being out in the rain yesterday. He sighed and placed a damp cloth on her head. His mobile rang and he quickly picked up before it could wake the sleeping American.
Exiting the room and closing the door behind him, Arthur answered. It was his boss and England's mood soured—there was an important matter at Parliament requiring his immediate attention. He assured the Prime Minister he would be there shortly and hung up.
Now he had a problem. England had to go to work, but Arthur couldn't just leave Evelyn alone while she was sick. Acting on an idea, he dialed Matthew as he poured a large bowl of cream. It wouldn't be for long…
A/N: School's out for summer! Too bad I'm working a 9-5 job. Being an adult sucks, seriously, but I got another chapter out for you!
Eh, not much to say really. I'm working on a Mother's Day one-shot set in this AU. Hopefully, I get it done in time.
Reviews are loved always. Ciao for now!