Montigny-le-Roi was quite a drive from central Paris.

Though generally Francis stayed within walking distance of anywhere he thought he needed to go to, he would take the occasional cab. However, a cab fee for a 3 hour drive would be outrageous.

So, the blond revved up his car.

The new Opel GT certainly turned heads, sunlight gleaming off of the slick black vehicle in a flashy way that seemed perfect for the cocky artist. Plus, he would take the top down, and let his wavy, shoulder length locks catch the wind.

And Aviators. The look wasn't complete without some shiny Aviators.

He didn't seem to care about the fact that he hadn't driven much in the past year or so and his skills definitely showed it. (And surely the elderly woman whom he almost knocked from her walker agreed that he was certainly a bit rusty.)

He whistled along with a catchy American pop tune on the radio and ran at least a good 10 kilometers over the speed limit at all times.

Hey, he was nervous.

-x-

Francis finally slowed down as the area around him began to change from villages to farmland. It then occurred to him that he didn't know what his old Spanish friend's farm or farmhouse looked like. There weren't very many tomato farms in France anyway, (come to think of it, Francis wondered if tomatoes could even grow in France longer than a summer), but surely he couldn't be the only one. Hopefully there was a sign or a mailbox with his Spanish friend's surname upon it. Would he see the bright red of tomatoes in fields alongside the highway?

Francis took his sunglasses off and watched the fields go by. He was truly beginning to wonder if this was a mistak-

SPLAT.

Francis swerved at the impact, and glared in the direction of the obviously amused obnoxious laughter, and sped ahead. Nobody egged his car!

He popped it into a random driveway, turned around, and sped down the road beside the field of which the object took flight from.

The Frenchman looked out angrily, determined to get his revenge on the prankster. He didn't realize that he had driven all the way up the narrow dirt road between the fields and was coming up on a house. He huffed.

He'd just go inside and give the owner his two-cents on their meddlesome teenage child, for that's who he thought probably threw whatever at his beautiful car.

He parked it angrily, sharp and sloppy. As he opened the door of the car the foreign object fell, and he paused as he noticed what it was.

Hm. A very squashed tomato.

However, his fury returned as he heard the immature snickering once again, and shuffles through leaves as if the deviant were running through the fields. He then heard a screen door shut.

Francis stomped up, fists clenched, to the door. He knocked rather agitatedly, and cried "Hey!" hoping to get an answer. Though he figured if the immature snob who'd threw the blasted veg-fruit at him were the only resident present, he wouldn't be dumb enough to answer the door.

With a sigh, the blond gave up. The fury burning in his blue eyes calmed back down to pools of calm cerulean, and he simply pulled out a towel from the back of his car and wiped off his door.

He stepped back inside, and started the Opel GT. It purred pleasantly.

He began to drive back up the narrow road.

He noticed a farmer out harvesting whom he didn't see making his way through the first time. He had on a straw hat and was tanned by the sun. He seemed to be whistling a tune.

Ha, maybe that was the rotten kid's father.

Francis pulled over by the field, and wondered in what language to call the man in. He figured English would once again be best.

"Hello, sir! Can I have a word?" He cupped his hands around his lips to make sure his words carried.

"HEY!" He boomed when he received no response.

Finally the man peeked up over the vines and waved. He began to trudge through the dirt toward Francis.

"My apologies, señor. I've been working all day and we don't get many visitors out here."

Francis blinked at the accent. Whenever the farmer got within reach he shamelessly took his hat off.

"Antonio?"

The dark brunette's bright green eyes gave Francis a good look. "Francis, mi amigo... What...what are you doing here?'

"I felt as though I needed to see you." With a solemn sigh he looked down. He knew he couldn't have expected Antonio to just take him back after a rough end of friendship and then years of silence.

Antonio put a hand on his back. "Si, we have some catching up to do."

And he smiled that old smile and Francis felt as light as he did before the burden of losing it all.

-x-

"So, what brings you here?"

Antonio's farm house was warm and smelled like herbs. It was rustic and simply Antonio. Francis had to look around and feel a bit ashamed. With as ambitious and self-absorbed as both he and Gilbert were, he never realized maybe they never gave Antonio his chance to shine.

Francis took a seat on a wooden chair at the table. "Well, I had heard word from Lizzie you were in this little town," he chuckled, "on a whim I decided to come out here and try to find you."

Antonio ruffled the blond's wavy hair. "Well, welcome back, Francey." He grinned, showing lots of teeth. He sat down on the tabletop.

Francis was astonished at how much the chipper brunette hadn't changed. He was still nicely tanned and looked so young. His hair was a little longer, and maybe a shade lighter, but his green eyes were still bright and he still seemed as free as ever.

And still quite handsome, Francis chuckled.

"Thank you, mon ami," he sighed, "it has been too long."

"Te echaba de menos, mi amigo. I missed you."

Francis blinked up at him, feeling his cheeks flush a light pink. "I...I thought..." He cleared his throat.

"I thought you hated me."

Antonio hopped down from the table and walked to the stove, beginning to pull out some spices.

"I never hated you. I was jealous that you'd gotten everything you'd ever wanted, but I never hated you. I thought you'd get a hold of me again. I had lots ofthings I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't call you because you were always on the road. Always going. And I couldn't get your number because you were so famous. Like I said, I missed you, you cabeza estúpido."

"Stupid head? And for a moment there I thought you'd matured, mon cher." Francis chuckled.

Antonio dropped a pan a little bit too hard on such an old vintage stove.

"I meant it, Francis."

Cold.

His voice was so cold.

And flat.

Francis blinked at the back of the Spaniard's head. "D-Désolé, 'Toni. I just...was trying to lighten the mood, is all."

Antonio had grown up, indeed.

Francis listened to the sounds of water boiling and spices shaking.

"...Are you unhappy, mon cher ami?''

Antonio sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm very happy. But I didn't accomplish what I wished back when we were college students. When you and I and Gilbert were a trio."

Francis blinked again.

"Do you even know what that was, mi amigo? Do you know what my dreams were?"

Antonio turned to gaze at Francis with gentle eyes. He was so sincere.

He was so hurt.

Francis had to look down. "I...non, I...I don't remember. I...did you ever once tell me?"

Antonio chuckled, and it sounded solemn, half-empty. "I had. I told both you and Gilbert, at least once. Remember the day I treated you two to a picnic?"

Francis thought back. It was autumn, which was Antonio's favorite season. As a child on a farm with his grandparents, he had always worked hard in fall, because it was time to harvest, and after he worked hard, he was rewarded with cash or other privileges. He would always share whatever he had earned between the three of them, and try his hardest to make it equal. This was one of those instances. However, instead of a dinner at a restaurant or a trip to an arcade, he was up to something else.

He was taking them back to the house his parents were killed in.

He had said it was a picnic, because there was an old wooden picnic table. Francis recalled it was a dark red, and the paint was weathered and chipping. A couple had carved their initials into it, combining them with a plus sign.

"MH is my mother, Marcela Hernandez. And JC is my father, José Carriedo." Antonio looked down at the scratches made lovingly, running his fingers along the etches in a bit of a daze.

Francis smiled at them. "They really did love each other, didn't they?"

Gilbert, of course, appeared bored. He'd brought his bird along, and was watching it fly around them with his head resting against his hand.

Antonio sighed. "It's funny how this remained."

Francis, however, paid attention and tried to truly be sympathetic. "You never mentioned how they died, mon ami. I always just assumed it were a car accident, or something of that nature."

Antonio took both of their hands. The picnic table sat below a shade tree, probably an oak, but Francis didn't care enough about trees to notice the differences in their leaves. They crunched along pieces of dry red and yellow and brown that littered the ground, and on the other side of the tree there was a pile of rocks.

Gilbert shook his hand away. "Mein Gott. What the fuck is this Antonio? I thought you said we'd have beer..."

Francis hit his head.

Antonio sighed. "Vamos, I just want you to see this."

At the bottom of the hill Francis noticed something. The way the piles were laid out... it was strange. There were etches inside where things might've once sat or worked, like tables or pipelines.

It was a fire.

The grass had grown around the rock which hadn't crumbled down without support. The ground was fertile due to the ash, and everything was a complete loss.

Antonio had long wandered into the area with the most rock still surrounding it. He knelt down into the grass. Francis sat down beside him, and Gilbert sort of leaned against the rubble.

"Mi habitación. This was my room."

Gilbert blinked, everything hitting him all at once, realizing that "Hey! This was the tragedy of my best friend's childhood!"

He sat down beside Antonio, and he and Francis pulled them all together in a group hug.

Antonio sighed. "Gracias, mi amigos."

Gilbert shrugged. "Yeah we're bros for life, right?" He had known that he had kind of been a dick, so he was trying to make up for it now. Antonio and Francis both knew this, but it was good to accept whatever empathy Gilbert gave. It didn't happen too often. He was a good guy and everything, butit just wasn't his style.

So Antonio hugged them back and nodded. "Bros for life."

The two pulled away and Antonio stood. He brushed himself off. "You know, if I wouldn't have gotten out of the house, I wonder what would've happened to me."

Gilbert shrugged. "Well, we wouldn't be a trio."

Francis smiled at him. "I can't imagine life without ever having you, 'Toni. You're life could be described as tragic and yet you're so chipper and bright and show care to everyone around you. It's…quite admirable."

He looked down. "I wish I could be more like you."

Antonio smiled and put his hand on Francis's shoulder. It wasn't too often that you heard him say he wished he could be someone else. "No, mi amigo. You're you for a reason."

Francis reached down slightly and gave his friend's ass a little squeeze. "Yes, but I sure do wish I had this."

Antonio just had to laugh and swat his hand away. "Lo siento. That's not going to happen."

Gilbert threw a rock, which hit Francis in the back of the head.

"Hey, you fags, I thought we were gonna be eating! Where's the food?"

Antonio picked up the rock and threw it back at him. "You can never think of anyone but yourself!"

Gilbert jumped out of the way and the rock fell with a thud. "No, I figured you guys were hungry too, so."

Francis sighed and jumped over the pile of rock that separated the inside of the demolished house and what used to be the backyard.

Antonio smiled at them, green eyes shimmering with tears, admiration, and maybe something else. "I want to invent something for the rural families. House fire alarms or sprinkler systems. Something. Something that can prevent children from becoming orphaned like I did. Something that can keep them with their Mami and Papi and only visit their Abuela's for the holidays. That's how it should be. And too often it isn't."

During his reverie, Francis had been picking at his cuticles, and hadn't noticed the blood beginning to run down his hand. He quickly stuck it in his mouth.

"Antonio...I remember. I remember what you wanted."

Antonio began mixing in a bowl, still turned away. He pounded tomatoes with what seemed like a little bit more force that necessary, once again.

"I supported you and Gil all through our friendship, even after you screwed up at that party. I still tried to help you two through, even if you didn't want to even see each other. I'm at least happy to see you made something of yourself."

"What's happened to Gilbert?" Francis figured the albino German didn't care about him, but he needed to know.

Gilbert wanted to be famous. He wanted all eyes on him. He didn't care what happened. He couldn't sing, but he could act pretty well. He just didn't do anything with the Drama team for fear of being called a puss. He got to where he would go to parties and do the most ridiculous (and sometimes dangerous) things to get attention. He would advertise his blog any chance he got.

"Last time I caught up with him, it was a few years ago. He was at his brother, Ludwig's bar. He was drinking away his sorrows...lo pobre."

Poor thing was right.

"So, he never accomplished anything?"

Antonio stirred thoughtfully. "He put all of his beans in one basket, and he lost it. I think he still keeps up that silly blog though."

Francis cleared his throat. "I need to find him, mon ami. I need to apologize."

Antonio turned back to him with a small smile. "When you do, I want to see him again too. Hermanos para la vida."

Francis grinned. "Frères de la vie."

Brothers for life.

Antonio began pouring the mixture he had been making into another bowl.

"So, are you cooking? It smells délicieux~"

Antonio chuckled. "It's time to feed my pet."

Francis blinked. Antonio obviously had animals, but why would he cook something specific for one? Maybe he really treasured his animals.

Antonio walked to the other side of the house and yelled up a fight of stairs. "Lovino! Lunch is served!"

"I'm not coming you goddamn bastard!"

Francis blinked. "You have a roommate?" Lovino, apparently, also had an accent, though he was obviously an Italian.

A cranky one at that.

"Lovino! It's your favorite, cariño~"

Francis heard a huff, and then footsteps shuffling down the uncarpeted stairs. Antonio stepped away to reveal a dark-headed young man with bright golden eyes and a pout.

"Thanks, asshole." He muttered, and went to help himself to the pasta Antonio had made.

The Italian then noticed the blond seated at the dining room table and yelped. "Antonio, who the hellis this?"

"Well, Lovi, this is my old friend, Francis. He was paying me a visit. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Lovino didn't say a word, just shook in his place.

"Bonjour, j'mappelle Francis. I went to college with Antonio. Who are you? He didn't mention he had a roommate." The Frenchman smiled politely, and spoke with a voice like velvet.

Lovino shrugged. "I'm Lovino. I met Antonio when he was over at Ludwig and Gilbert's."

"Oh, so you know Gil as well?"

Lovino blushed and spoke quietly. "Fratello was dating Ludwig."

Antonio chuckled and put his arm around the small Italian. "His brother, Feliciano, was dating Gil's brother, Ludwig. I introduced myself because Lovi didn't look very happy. We started talking and things went from there. I invited him to lunch a few times, and I wasn't sure if he were interested or not, but then he called me and invited me out and things took off from there."

Meanwhile, Lovino stood there, face turning redder by the second. Francis let this set in, then had to laugh.

"So, you're together? Oh, Antonio." Francis snickered.

"Actually, we're married." Antonio said matter-of-factly, and Lovino slipped away and ate his pasta, leaning against the wall.

Francis grinned. "That's wonderful, mon ami." He looked down. "I'm sorry I missed the wedding."

Antonio shook his head. "We eloped on Costa Blanca in Spain. It seemed right, since my great-grandparents lived in Madrid. Lovino's parents live in Verona, but Italian governments wouldn't recognize our marriage."

Francis didn't really have the heart to tell them that in France their marriage was void, so he smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I just remembered. Another reason why I came to this house in particular," he said.

Antonio and Lovino turned to him, Lovino looking a bit horrified.

"Si, what's that? We have no sign up with our last name. How did you know to follow this path?"

Francis looked out the window at his beloved sports car. "Some dick threw a tomato at my car."

Lovino yelped nervously. Antonio turned to him.

"Lovi...why must you throw tomatoes at whoever drives past our fields?"

"Well! In a car like that I just assumed he was a douchebag and deserved it! I didn't expect him to chase me, but it was fucking hilarious!" The Italian was laughing and waving his hands in surrender at the same time. Antonio was sighing and shaking his head while Francis glared at him.

"No hard feelings, riiight Francis? Mi amigo?" Antonio smiled up apologetically.

Francis sighed and nodded. "A tomato is pretty harmless, but I am not a 'douchebag.'"

Lovino walked by and gave his husband's ass a little squeeze. "Thanks for lunch, asshole. Ti amo." He walked back upstairs.

Antonio yelled back after him. "Te amo, Lovi!"

Francis was still smiling at them. "L'amour. You two...it's just funny. Lovino seems to have nothing nice to say, and you're so polite and cheery. It seems like you two wouldn't be that much of a match."

Antonio sat down with two plates, splitting the leftover pasta between the two of them. "I think that whenever you're looking for something, you won't be able to find it. You need to let yourself fall, to where you're convinced that it's much too dark, so you can let the right light shine through."

Francis twirled the pasta with a fork. "Oui, but, what if you're looking for something and you have to find it within a week or else you're fired?"

Antonio blinked. "Problems at work, mi amigo? Can I help?"

Francis reached inside his coat and pulled out the photographs of the paintings. "I need to find this artist, or else I lose my job. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Antonio nodded. He picked up each photograph and tore it apart with his eyes. "They all have the red maple leaf. That's interesting."

The blond chewed his pasta thoughtfully. "I'm assuming that after I find them, they're to be signed and take my place."

Antonio flipped to the next photograph, of the mural. "Sounds like a problemo, either way..." He stared at the mural, eyes widening.

"Oui, it's...Porqoui?'

"This mural. It's painted on the side of an apartment building in Versailles. Lovino and Itraveled through all of France after our wedding, trying to find land to build a house on. I could never forget it. It was breathtaking."

Francis dropped his fork. "Versailles? Do you know if that's where the artist resided?"

Antonio shook his head. "That's just the city where the mural is. Perhaps you could ask the city council, or apartment building owner."

Francis grinned and threw his arms around his old friend. "Merci, Antonio! Perhaps I can make this work! Merci, merci, merci!" Antonio laughed as he was squeezed to a pulp.

"I'm a married man! Off, off! And...you're welcome, Francis." He had been let go of. Francis took a napkin and pulled a pen out of his coat pocket, and jotted down his personal cell phone number.

"There you are, Antonio. Never hesitate to call. I'm afraid I need to go, if I'm to travel to Versailles tomorrow."

Antonio nodded. "It was nice to see you again, Francis. You're welcome anytime."

Francis turned as he walked back through the door. "Antonio, you've always been the light in my dark. Lovi is a lucky man."

Antonio chuckled. "You flatter me."

Francis shook his head. "I was so far into my own dark I didn't realize I had screwed up. Day one in this search for this artist, and I'm already picking up a few more things that I've lost. I'm sorry, Antonio. I will make this all up to you."

The Spaniard smiled. "No, mi amigo. Just you going back to the you that you once were is enough for me. Adios, Francis."

Au revoir, 'Toni. Lovi certainly is a lucky man.

((A special thanks to my husbando, Sve, who has stuck by me through the day that I hatched this plot bunny! My dearest edit!Nazi, without you, I would have so many typos and grammar failures, no one would keep up with this. So thank you, love. Especially through out Spain's dialogue, or else I would've gotten tons of bad reviews on how he sounded too refined. XD Waifu loves youuu~

Also, thank you to everyone reading this! I've gotten so many artist watches and story alerts! I never thought it would be this popular. Stay wonderful! 3))