Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did…well, that would mean I can actually draw.
Evelyn bent over the kitchen sink struggling to control her nausea. She had been getting steadily worse since she got back from London. She had a constant headache—sometimes so bad she had to lock herself in her room, black out the windows and hide under the covers—and now she was having bouts of nausea and dizziness. Her vision was getting worse too. Nina tried to show her a political cartoon the other day and commented on her squinting. Considering she never had vision problems before, Evelyn was adding it to her list of symptoms for whatever strange illness she caught.
The wave passed and she went back to the dishes. It probably wasn't the best idea. Whatever had been in the red plastic wasn't helping her nausea. Evelyn wrinkled her nose and turned up the water hoping the higher pressure and heat would dislodge most of it before she had to touch it. No luck. She would have to soak it.
The doorknob of the front door jiggled. The American barely had time to register that neither of her room mates should be back yet when the door was flung open with excessive force.
"Have no fear, the awesome me is here to rock your totally un-awesome world!" The commotion was followed by a white haired, red-eyed horror to anyone with a headache. He was followed in by his minions; if this were Disney, they would be Pain and Panic, but since it wasn't, she could call them Dipshit One and Numbnuts Two. Evelyn cursed scrambling for something in the drawer by the sink. The three intruders came into the kitchen and she turned to face them armed and dangerous.
"I have pepper spray and an angry Englishman on speed dial!" she declared showing them the can of mace and her cell phone. She was not getting kidnapped again especially not by some damn Frenchman! Shame her once and she would learn, shame her twice and Arthur would have a Frenchman rug to put in front of his fire place.
"Woah, woah calm down shortie," Gilbert, still in the lead, held up his hands placating. "We're not here to cause any trouble." She held the canister of chemicals at the ready, not convinced.
"I am not your girlfriend so don't even go there!" Evelyn aimed the little canister at already red eyes.
"What? Where did you get an idea like that?" Gilbert exclaimed hands up to defend his eyes.
"What next? Going to call me your boo, or babe? Well, back off buck, I don't need a man. I am a strong, independent, working woman!"
Francis, who had been hit before with pepper spray (it was a slight misunderstanding with two young ladies that they blew completely out of proportion), spoke up from behind his friend while trying to ignore whatever gibberish the young American was sprouting. "Oui, ma petit. We were simply in the neighborhood and decided to stop by. Besides, what is Angleterre going to do? He's still in his own country."
"But doesn't that mean he's closer to yours?" Antonio asked (un)helpfully. "And you're not there to stop him amigo." The man turned eyeballing the snack box on the table. "Is that a Twinkie? I've never seen a real one!" and he sprung for it.
Francis paled ignoring Antonio's oddness and started cursing in French. If there was one thing Evelyn learned from her time among the strange bunch, it was that the Frenchman was prone to theatrics and he didn't disappoint her now. He began lamenting in rapid-fire French (which she surprisingly understood though she had never taken a French class) and waving his hands dramatically as he walked around the small space. This brought him out from behind the protective shield that was Gilbert and into her range of fire.
Evelyn waited until he was facing her and then gave him a good dose of mace to the face.
"Mon dieu!" Francis quickly covered his eyes to protect them from any more of the offending spray rushing in the direction of the sink to wash it away. The smell coming from the red plastic container assaulted his nose and he reeled back gagging with another French curse.
"That was for kidnapping me before and all the perverted comments you stupid French fry!" Evelyn cried triumphantly still holding up the pepper spray.
Gilbert was doubled over laughing as was Antonio who was leaning on his friend's shoulder for support. "Mein Gott! You know how to hold a grudge Kind."
"Si, si! Muy bien!" Antonio cheered, Twinkie out of its packaging and being waved in a happy hand until he squished it.
"My nose! My eyes! How can the country of love appreciate all the lovely things in this world if I am blind?"
Evelyn sighed moving back to the sink as she pocketed her cell phone and set the mace to the side. The Frenchman was subdued, the Spanish man had a squished Twinkie to deal with and the German dude was laughing his ass off. She put soap into the plastic container and put it into the other sink to soak before dampening a paper towel and handing it to the distressed Francis. "Here drama queen. Now, get out of my house."
"So cruel ma petit." The Frenchman responded as he cleared his eyes.
Evelyn returned to the dishes wincing at the renewed pain in her head. "I'm not your little anything!" She snapped. "You're giving me a worse headache than I already had."
Antonio put an arm around her shoulders still recovering from his laughing fit. Thankfully it was the arm without the Twinkie. "I think she's been hanging around Arturo too much. She's starting to sound like him."
Gilbert slid in on her other side. "Kesesese! He's right. If you're not careful, you're gonna turn into a grouchy old man, er, woman."
The American's head throbbed painfully and her stomach reminded her she was still very nauseous. The two men towering over her was only making things worse; they were making her feel short and a little claustrophobic. She ducked backward away from them moving into the relatively free space of the living room.
"No, any sane person would just be pissed if three people invaded their house."
Francis finished cleaning out his eyes. "I think the more important issue here is your atrocious cooking skills. No wonder you survived with Arthur!"
"What're you talking about?" she asked confused.
He waved in the vague direction of the sink. "How can you eat that? It is unrecognizable."
"I don't eat it. That's why I was washing it out. I don't know how long it's been in the fridge."
They all stared at her.
"What?"
"What did it use to be?" Gilbert asked a little afraid of the answer.
Evelyn thought for a moment. "Can't remember. Some type of pasta maybe?"
Francis looped his arm with hers and dragged her determinedly to the door. Evelyn squawked indignantly.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Toni, grab her shoes; Gil, her jacket. We're going to the store."
She struggled against his hold and almost managed to break free, but her sock-covered feet slipped on the linoleum and the Frenchman continued to drag her.
"What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?!"
"I can't let anyone live like this; deprived of good cuisine when I am able to provide! I will make you a meal that will not be forgotten in your refrigerator."
Evelyn grumbled some more, but she really couldn't turn down the promise of good food, especially when someone else was paying for it.
The trip was uneventful—if you don't count the fight that ensued when Antonio smeared Twinkie on Francis' pants—though the American had to endure the constant jabs about her lifestyle and American culture in general.
"I'm up to my ears in student loans. I'd like to see you cook your fancy French food on a student budget!" she retorted at one point.
Her comments were waved off and the grocery shopping continued. When they returned to Evelyn's apartment, they were laden down with ingredients. Francis immediately went to work in the kitchen while Evelyn flopped onto the couch, worn out. Gilbert was raiding the fridge for beer and Antonio was happily flipping through the television channels. He never stayed on one for longer than a few seconds.
She leaned back against the couch concentrating on her breathing to control her nausea and closed her eyes against the light to maybe help her headache. The constant noise from the trio definitely wasn't helping. What were they even doing here? They said they were in the neighborhood, but she hadn't gotten close enough to any of the three to warrant them just dropping by randomly.
Her mind wandered back to her research, to the photocopied documents hidden in her room so Nina or Jessica wouldn't accidentally run across it. They were mentioned in there several times, not so much Antonio, but the other two—especially around the time of the Revolution.
"Why are you here?" she asked quietly.
"Huh?" replied the Spaniard.
"Why are you here?" she said again loudly. Gilbert stopped complaining about the Americans' choice of beer and even Francis slowed in his cooking to listen. "I mean, why would you come out of your way to see me? I did nothing but insult you," she pointed to the Frenchman and then to the others, "and I hardly know you two!" She was sitting on the edge of the couch now working herself into a frenzy. "Ever since I met you people, it's been one weird thing after another and my episodes have only gotten worse! So, what is with you people?" She dropped her head into her hands breathing heavily and trying to will her headache away. Maybe she should go see a doctor. She had never been this sick before.
Gilbert sat down on the couch next to her drinking from his beer. "Like I said, we were in the neighborhood and decided to come check on you."
"Si amiga, the world meeting was much more fun with you there." Antonio added sitting on the table in front of her.
Evelyn sighed rubbing her temples. "That was only a one time deal. I'm still in school and I don't really see myself going into politics. Not that you guys actually got anything done…" The last she muttered quietly to herself, but they still heard it. Gilbert snorted into his drink while the other two chuckled. "Besides, I think the U.S. government has plenty of better candidates for a representative than me."
Francis brought over a plate with a variety of hors d'oeuvres and handed it to her. "Did you notice that there was not a representative for the U.S. at the meeting?"
She thought back and couldn't remember there being one. "Yeah, were they sick or something?"
"There hasn't been a real representative at our meetings for some time." He went back to cooking curious to how she would respond. He had not been oblivious to her more than obvious pain and illness, but he was waiting to see if there was something more to it.
Evelyn mulled that over biting into one of the snacks. She practically melted at how good it was. A small moan of pleasure escaped her lips and she finished that one off before going for another. Gilbert nabbed one off the plate before she could eat them all.
"Slow down, there's more coming!" Gilbert exclaimed.
"Sorry, but I haven't eaten anything this good in forever." She finished off another one nearly choking. She reached for Gilbert's beer to rinse it down, despite his protest. When she went to give it back, she doubled over in pain.
It felt like her head just exploded. She dropped the bottle to grip her head as she screamed out her agony. Soon she lost consciousness taken by an episode.
She was sitting at a large oak table, legs swinging above the floor. She felt so small. There was someone sitting next to her—a blonde with purplish eyes peeking over what looked like a polar bear cub.
"What are you doing here frog?" a familiar voice asked. She looked to the doorway to see Arthur dressed in eighteenth century clothing fixing his cuffs and looking annoyed.
"I have to make sure mon fils are eating well. They would starve with the way you cook." Francis stood in the kitchen rolling up his sleeves and preparing to cook.
"My cooking is just fine! Alfred loves it, don't you poppet?" The Englishman came to stand beside her.
"Yeah! I like Dad's cooking." Wait, that was like the voice from before—the one that was her, but not.
"It's 'yes' Alfred." Arthur chided mildly.
"Papa, may we have crepes?" asked the purple-eyed boy quietly.
Francis patted the boy's head fondly. "Oui, Mathieu. With fresh berries and cream?"
"Oui!" 'Mathieu' exclaimed in his ever quiet voice. Mathieu was the French form of Matthew—did that mean this was Mattie? What was going on? Arthur had called her Alfred and it looked like a scene out of the past.
"Here you are." Francis set a plate in front of her and she began eating. It tasted amazing, but the memory couldn't compare to the real thing. Those snacks she had were so much better.
"Alfred Kirkland, don't stuff everything into your mouth like that."Arthur chided again.
"Oui, mon petite. There is plenty more."
Alfred Kirkland. That was the name of the boy in those files, the one who just disappeared, but why was she seeing this? Was her research affecting her episodes? Maybe that's why she was also seeing Arthur and Francis in past clothing.
That didn't seem right though. Something about all of this felt…real. But how? Evelyn wanted to scream she was so confused. This scene wasn't really like her other episodes either. It was too domestic, too relaxing and too happy. She was used to being afraid, angry or sad in the middle of some war-like scene that she couldn't escape. She felt like she was intruding on this scene; it wasn't right.
Everything became fuzzy and then it was raining. She was standing on a hill, soaked and covered in mud. Someone was kneeling in front of her, sobbing. His blonde hair was plastered to his face hiding his eyes, but she could still recognize Arthur. He was wearing a familiar red coat—she had seen it so many times through school, there was no mistake—and a mud splattered musket lay not too far from him.
What the hell? This didn't seem right at all. Arthur shouldn't be crying like that. She mentally recoiled.
Evelyn jerked back to reality immediately screaming when she came face-to-face with Francis. She climbed the back of the couch as the Frenchman fell backward.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
Francis stood brushing off and straightening his clothes before answering. "You were shaking. I was trying to make sure you were all right, but since you are impossible to wake up, I made sure you didn't hurt yourself further."
She blinked stupidly silently asking for clarification. Gilbert pointed to her arms. They were red where her nails dug into the flesh. She hadn't drawn blood, but it was starting to sting. That was weird; she hadn't hurt herself like that before.
Evelyn looked between Francis and Gilbert. They looked exactly like the portraits contained in the files from the Archives—Francis looked exactly like the one in her episode. So did Arthur. The only one who changed at all was Matthew and that was only because he grew. Wait, no one grows that slowly. Maybe they were all descendents of the people in those files? No, no one's genes were that strong and what were the odds they would all be in politics?
"Hey kid, you all right?" Gilbert asked concerned.
She didn't realize she had started hyperventilating rocking back-and-forth on the back of the couch. "What the hell is going on?" She was freaked out bordering on pissed. Something weird was going on and she wanted answers. The problem was, she was afraid to ask the questions. Stuff like this only happened in books or movies, not in real life, not to people like her.
Antonio cocked his head. "We're making sure you're okay. You had an episode."
Evelyn waved her hands around frantically as she started to panic. "No! I mean you," she pointed to Francis, "and you," she pointed her other hand at Gilbert, "and Artie and Mattie and everyone I met after you freakin' kidnapped me!" She jumped from the couch and started pacing still not able to string together a coherent thought. "It's impossible, but you're sitting here and I met all of you, but I'm not crazy because I know others can see you, but it certainly sounds crazy and I…"
"Slow down ma petit." Francis grabbed her by the shoulders to force her to stop. "Je ne sais pas what you are talking about."
She tore away from him running into her room. Taking the bag out from under her bed where she hid it from her room mates, Evelyn hurried back into the living room throwing the files down on the table.
"That is what I'm talking about."
The three quickly skimmed through the papers with varying emotions. Finally, the Frenchman looked her in the eye and said seriously, "Perhaps it is time you know."
A/N: Yes, I updated! Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. Real life is just so hectic right now, but all your reviews make me ecstatic!
Thanks also to my beta. She makes my Prussia even more awesome.
Reviews are loved!