A note from ME! I'm sorry, people... it's another depressing chapter. It'll become lighter soon, though!

Chapter 6 – They Split

Gilbert slid his head through the door, and frowned at the small, huddled bundle on the bed, before slipping through, closing the door gently behind him.

"Um… Matt?" He called gently, and Matthew shifted on the bed, briefly raising his head in acknowledgement. Gilbert frowned as he moved forward and sat down on the bed, balancing awkwardly on the edge by his friend's head. Gilbert watched the blonde, waiting as the tiny, almost insignificant shakes of his shoulders slow and halt.

"Are you… alright?" Hey asked, and scowled at his own words. He was a Beilschimdt; comforting wasn't their thing. The most Gilbert had ever had to use his limited skills of tact was when he and Ludwig had heard the news that their mother had died. Even then, he had just patted Ludwig gruffly on the back and suggested they went out for a drink.

Matthew grunted quietly into the pillow, turning so he could speak to the Albino.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He whispered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Gilbert cleared his throat, and briefly ruffled Matthew's hair.

"The others are talking about some pretty heavy stuff out there;" The older man stated, jerking his thumb back. "Do you wanna head back and see what's going on?" Matthew hummed, sitting up unsteadily. After a moment of hesitation, Gilbert held out his hand for Matthew, who took it with a light blush.

"No." Ludwig's voice was cold and steely as he watched Arthur. The two men were standing now, facing each other from across the room. Matthew hesitated at the door, feeling the tension crackling between the German and Brit.

"This could be our only chance." Arthur growled. "I'll go myself if I have to; but if we leave her for too long she could move, and then I'll never find her!"

"It's too dangerous." Ludwig stated. "I'm not letting anyone head back. Especially not on their own. Not even you."

Arthur scowled.

"You're not the boss of me." He growled. "If I want to go, then I'll go." Feliciano squeaked as Arthur grabbed his satchel, stuffing his books back in and swinging it over his shoulder, before crossing the room to leave, picking his up his sword – which was leaning against the wall – as he did so.

"A- Arthur... Wait…" The Italian whispered. Arthur paused, his hand on the door knob, but he didn't look around.

"… Look after Francis, Feli." He said, before opening the door and leaving.

The remaining men stared after him. None of them were sure how to react; did they let Arthur go, or try to call him back? They didn't know Arthur well enough to decide. Him and Francis had only spent a brief period of time with them, but while Francis opened up and greeted everyone with open arms and wide smiles, Arthur had been more reserved, rarely talking to anyone beyond Francis.

Eventually Feliciano broke the silence.

"What… What is Francis going to think?"

The occupants of the room looked at each other warily, suddenly dreading the unconscious man's awakening.

Arthur ran his thumb over the hilt of his sword as he strode down the street. Part of him felt wary, leaving the group, but he banished it to the far corners of his mind with a determined scowl.

Texas, Alfred had said he and Matthew used to live. It was a long distance to travel, and every second was important. Once he was within a hundred miles of the original source of magic, it wouldn't be hard to locate. Arthur just hoped that the zombie hadn't moved too far.

He wondered what the others would do for shelter now Arthur wasn't there to pick locks for them…

Arthur shook his head violently; there was no point thinking about them now – if Arthur wanted to get to Texas intact, he couldn't waste his time thinking about those he'd left behind.

Although…

Arthur slowed down and glanced over his shoulder.

"… Francis…"

Ludwig paced the room, glancing at Francis every so often. Feeling responsible for driving Arthur to leave, the German had sent everyone out of the living room, intending to be the one to give Francis the news. For the last half-hour, he'd been alone in the room. Thankfully, he hadn't heard any zombies during that time; it didn't sound as if Arthur had been attacked, at the very least.

Ludwig sighed as he sat down by Francis' feet. Francis was going to be devastated… In fact, Ludwig had a nagging feeling he would be more then devastated; he would be furious.

A barely audible groan brought the blonde out of his thoughts, and he stood up. Francis stirred slightly, and shakily lifted a hand to his head. He whispered something, and Ludwig stooped down to hear the quiet voice.

"W- Water…"

"Right…" Ludwig rushed to the kitchen, running the tap and grabbing a glass from an open cupboard. Collecting a glass, he poured some water out and took it back to the gasping man, holding it as Francis drunk greedily. Eventually, Francis pulled away, and smiled gratefully at Ludwig, who had sat on the edge of the sofa Francis was laid on.

"Merci." He whispered, his voice still sounding rasped and forced. Ludwig nodded sharply, and Francis' smile faded.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Ludwig cleared his throat.

"I- it's Arthur." He replied. Francis' eyes widened, and he struggled to sit up, his flailing arms almost hitting Ludwig.

"What's wrong with him? Was he hurt? Was… was he bitten?" Ludwig shook his head hurriedly, off put in the face of the Frenchman's panic, and Francis sighed.

"Mon dieu… you had me worried; what could possibly be worse than that, oui? Did he just throw a tantrum? Send him to me and I'll calm him down. I'm surprised he wasn't here to see me wake up!" He laughed, but trailed off as he started to cough. "Ah, mon amour is too cruel sometimes…"

Ludwig didn't answer, and Francis stared at him.

"Ludwig… where is Arthur?" He asked. "Why wasn't he here when I woke up."

Ludwig didn't want to tell him; he really didn't. But it was his responsibility, after all.

"Arthur's… gone." He said haltingly. "He… thinks he can stop the zombies. But when I told him he couldn't go… He got annoyed, and left anyway…"

Francis' eyes grew as Ludwig spoke, until he was staring at the bigger man with huge pools of blue turmoil.

"You… You told him… he couldn't go?" He asked hesitantly. Ludwig looked away, and nodded. He was so focused on not looking at Francis, he didn't see the fist until it had made contact with his jaw, sending him tumbling off of the sofa and onto the ground with a loud thump. He stared up at Francis, holding his jaw in shock as the Frenchman glowered at him, his shoulders shaking.

"Are you an idiot? You don't tell someone like Arthur what to do!" Neither noticed the door open, revealing Gilbert and Alfred, who had been alerted by the thump Ludwig had made when he hit the ground.

"He's not particularly friendly as it is, I mean- merde! You should have just waited for me to wake up, why did you think you could even talk to Arthur, let alone reason with him, and-" Gilbert strode into the room, putting his hand on Francis' shoulder, effectively cutting the tirade.

"That's enough, Francis." He said dangerously. "Ludwig didn't know Arthur would react like that; none of us did."

Francis glowered at Gilbert, before shaking his arm off. He muttered angrily to himself in French as he struggled to stand, looking around for his sword.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked. Francis shot a glare at the American, before finally locating his sheathed sword on the worktop and picking it up, strapping it to his waist.

"I'm going after him." He snapped. "You can all continue on your journey; obviously we were all better off in separate groups."

With this bombshell, Francis turned and left the house.

A note from ME! The annoying thing is, I'd planned the story completely differently, but when I started writing, Arthur decided to mess with me and went off and did his own thing... TTATT