Lost Chapter 14, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

Lost. Chapter 14

A/N: I thought I should clear things up. I translated the French on Google translate and it is infamously unreliable but it'll have to do. -_- Anyway, it should have said "Welcome home, England". A lot of people were confused by that but you might understand if I told you why. But what fun would that be? Interpret if how you'd like. I'd love to hear your interpretations though. Also, some people are confused about what happened to Spain. You'll find out what happens later on in the story. Thanks so much for the reviews! I love all of them!

Disclaimer: Hikari doesn't own or claim to own Hetalia or the song used below.

I hate feeling like this
I'm so tired of trying to fight this
I'm asleep and all I dream of

Is waking to you
Tell me that you will listen
Your touch is what I'm missing
And the more I hide I realize I'm slowly losing you

Comatose
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

I don't wanna live
I don't wanna breathe
'les I feel you next to me
you take the pain I feel
waking up to you never felt so real
I don't wanna sleep
I don't wanna dream
'cause my dreams don't comfort me
The way you make me feel
Waking up to you never felt so real

I hate living without you
Dead wrong to ever doubt you
But my demons lay in waiting
Tempting me away
Oh how I adore you
Oh how I thirst for you
Oh how I need you

Comatose
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

Breathing life
Waking up
My eyes open up

Comatose
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

Oh how I adore you
Waking up to you never felt so real
Oh how I thirst for you
Waking up to you never felt so real

Oh how I adore you, ohhhh
The way you make me feel
Waking up to you never felt so real

Lyrics to Comatose by Skillet

England's POV

The TV hanging in the corner of the room was the only thing breaking the silence. The Frenchman laid on the white hospital sheets, his pale skin nearly matching the white color of the blankets. His chest rose and fell with each of his breathes that seemed to rattle in his chest. He still hasn't woken up.

Beside the blond haired man sat a golden haired man. He was tightly clutching the other mans hand. It was tight but not uncomfortable. The man stared down at the Frenchman's facial features while listening to the TV and glancing up every so often.

The TV screen depicted of the horrors that had been struck at Paris, France. An Italian bomb had hit the capital at the time when Francis' collapsed.

Thousands were dead and thousands were injured. The beautiful city of Paris lay in ruins, now a ghost of its former glory. The Eiffel tower had been damaged. It hadn't collapsed but each pillar was twisted and bent making it look like a heap of metal. A thick, choking smoke suffocated the clear blue sky, hiding it behind its black veil.

Arthur had stopped watching TV after the first few hours; he found the images too disturbing. He had forgotten how long he had been in the same position but it didn't matter; he just wanted to be near Francis.

He continued to hold Francis' hand. Besides an occasional squeeze or stoke of the clammy skin beneath his own, neither moved.

The minutes stretched to hours. Arthur's eyelids grew heavy. He knew others had visited Francis earlier but he had been too deep in thought to notice. He knew Gilbert had visited after he returned from the convenient store. He vaguely remembered seeing Roderick but he couldn't be sure. He was only sure of Gilbert from his loud mannerisms and the hard smack on the back he received when he didn't answer the albino's question.

A nurse came in to check on Francis and to insert some liquids into his IV bag. She was kind enough to turn off the TV for Arthur.

Arthur didn't respond to any of this. It all passed by like it did at the hotel, before France was bombed.

Arthur felt sick to the stomach thinking of the Italian bomb that had destroyed Paris. Before, Feliciano had only attacked the personifications of the countries, albeit the small bomb in the cafe in Italy. Now he was attacking innocent people. He was completely out of his mind now. He honestly couldn't expect to be allowed to bomb a countries capital with no warning or even declaration of war.

As much as Arthur detested the idea, he knew he had to convince the other countries to form an alliance with him and take down Italy by any means necessary. Regardless, they would have to be careful that Romano wouldn't be hurt but it could work.

A fresh anger flared in the pits of Arthur's heart.

Feliciano started this mess.

Feliciano captured Ludwig and Kiku.

Feliciano abused them and mistreated them.

Feliciano killed his little Alfred.

Feliciano bombed Francis' capital.

Now he must pay.

Arthur's days as an empire might be over (at least for now) but that didn't mean he wasn't strong. He had the motivation. All he needed to do was put forth some effort and he could achieve anything.

Arthur pressed his lips to a line and blinked his eyes into focus. No more feeling bad for himself and no more hiding from reality. He had to accept that Alfred was dead. Thinking those words caused his eyes to sting with tears but he knew he couldn't just expect to forget about Alfred. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold onto him for as long as he could but he knew there was a time when he had to let Alfred go. He could love him and honor his memory but he had to let go.

He looked to the Frenchman's blank features. He smiled softly and chuckled warmly to spite himself.

"You know, I've been a real jerk." Arthur said. He waited, half hoping France would respond.

He didn't.

"I've decided I want to get revenge on Italy. He almost took away two of the most important people in my life- well he already took one- and I won't let him get away with it." Arthur took a breath.

What good would that do? That might only provoke Feliciano more but he couldn't just allow the Italian to get away with all the deaths he caused. This called for war!

"I'm so unsure what to do though. I-I need Alfred. I know you're probably tired of hearing about Alfred but I can't let him go. I want to, I really do but it's just so hard to say good bye when I'm not ready. I don't think I'll ever be ready though so I guess it's now or never, eh?" Arthur sighed again. Sighing was becoming more of a habit now, "I pray nothing will happen to you, Francis. You've been great to me lately and I want to be able to thank you for that like a proper gentleman."

Arthur paused and his lips formed a line again. What was Francis to him? Is he an old enemy, a friend or...more then a friend? He and the Frenchman squabbled in much of their history but that didn't mean they always had too. The past few days, Francis had been so supportive. Arthur had felt as though his life was a cup of tea on a balancing
beam. The tea represented how calm his live used to be. When Alfred died, part of his life balance was tipped so severely that his tea spied and his cup shattered.

Francis was never to far away to pick up his pieces and up him together. But like Humpty Dumpty, he couldn't be put back together again, or at least not the same as he had been. His life wouldn't be complete without Alfred but Francis filled much of the void that Alfred made behind. Arthur just had to open his head and let him in so he could fill that void in even more then he already had.

Arthur laughed lightly but it sounded flat to his ears, "You've been strong, so strong; your people, yourself, everything! I've never seen such fast reacting. I hope they can start rebuilding soon so you can get better. It's not right being able to talk like this with you. I could never say all of this unless you were asleep.

"But I guess that's a bad thing though. I did the same thing with Alfred and now I'll never get the chance. I don't want to make the same mistake with you."

The Brits lips curved into a smile. He was beginning to understand things better. Talking his thoughts out loud really helped him to realize what he was truly thinking. As long as Francis was asleep, it wouldn't hurt to talk to him.

"I've been trying to figure out my feelings for you. I know we're friends but you've been so kind to me that I've been sensing a deeper meaning. I feel guilty for thinking about this after Alfred's dead. I feel like I'm cheating on him and replacing him and I don't want to do that. I know I should be able to love other people and still honor his memory but it...it still feels like he's alive. I'm just waiting for him to burst through that door and laugh again." Arthur let out a quiet half laugh, half cry. He'd never hear his Alfred's laugh again.

"I don't want to use you either. I can't help but think that I'm just looking for a re-bound. It's...sick. It's absolutely revolting. Why can't I be a normal person and wait to fall in love for someone else after their soul mate dies? It hasn't even been 24 hours and I'm already looking to replace him. God, I feel so unholy." Arthur finished in a whisper.

He stiffened at a muffled moan. He looked up from the random spot he had been staring at. Emerald met with sky blue.

"You're not unholy." Francis croaked. "Don't even think such a thing. I know you love Alfred and you're taking his death so hard that it hurts to see you in pain that I can't help you with."

Arthur blushed darkly. His mind was in a tizzy. He didn't want Francis to hear him! Of God this was embarrassing.

"Francis..." Arthur drifted off.

Francis' gently took Arthur's hand and gave it a weak squeeze. "You're so strong, yet you don't see it. I know how Alfred's death is eating you away on the inside and you try to mask it but you can't fool me. I know the pain won't ever go away. It'll get easier to deal with as more and more time goes on but you'll never truly forget. The bond between you to is too great. A-Arthur," Francis took a breath. "I love you. I've loved you for a while but I knew I could never get between you and Alfred even if I wanted too."

A choked sob escaped from Arthur's throat. Francis could see the dam was starting to crumble. Arthur squeezed his hand back tightly and shut his eyes tight in a desperate attempt to seal the cracks.

"Angleterre, if you feel the same, I'll wait for you until you're ready to let someone inside your heart again." Francis said softly.

Arthur let out another sob and brushed his tears. Francis smiled softly. He enveloped Arthur into a heartfelt embrace. Arthur immediately responded and hugged back. He hid his face in Francis' shoulder and sobbed loudly.

Soft hands rubbed soothing circles into the British mans back. This simple yet meaningful gesture caused the golden haired man to cry even more. Now wasn't the time to worry Francis. The French nation already had so much to worry about. It should be Arthur comforting Francis, not the other way around.

"Its ok, Angleterre. Get everything out; I'm here for you." a soothing voice whispered in Arthur's ear. Arthur hugged Francis as tight as he could without hurting the injured man.

A hand drifted up from his back to stroke his short locks. The sobs echoed through the empty room.

They stayed like that for what seems like hours but was in reality only a few moments. Francis scooted over and tugged the British man onto the bed, who did so with no hesitation. He always hated crying since it always made him feel so open and exposed but after he was done he felt so refreshed and rejuvenated like each tear was one pound of baggage being dropped from his tired shoulders.

Arthur curled in on himself and tucked his head in between the crook of Francis' neck. Francis had to be careful at how he treated the Brit. He took one of his hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He didn't let go.

"I'll always be here for you, Angleterre."

"I know." Arthur whispered tenderly. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"It hurts." Francis said truthfully, "But not as bad with you here."

A blush blossomed on Arthur's cheek. His eyes flickered away embarrassed.

Francis chuckled warmly, a new warmth spreading through his chest. This was different from the last and felt very pleasant.

"Get some rest, Angleterre. You look tired." he smiled.

Arthur pouted much like a child being told it was their bed time.

"But..." he began.

"Ah ah ah!" Francis said using his other hand to wave his finger like a parent might to a naughty child. With him, it was a warm gesture. "No buts. I know what bags under peoples eyes look like and those are them." he said poking playfully at the tender skin under the Brits eye causing him to let out a small chuckle. It was music to Francis' ears. It was the liveliest sound Arthur had made since Alfred's death.

"Fine." Arthur grumbled putting a playful frown on his face. Francis smiled gently.

"Good boy. Now get to bed. I'll be right here when you wake up. I won't let any monsters get you." he smiled. Arthur blushed a vibrant red. A low chuckle rumbled from Francis' throat.

Arthur closed his eyes. Within a matter of minutes his breathing deepened and evened out, signaling to Francis that he was asleep.

France's POV

The agonized screams pierced through the blackness of Francis' unconsciousness. Everything was pitch black. Francis had no senses other then sound. The high pitched screams of pain, every last breath and the frantic cries and pleas from the loved ones of those deceased.

The sounds went straight through Francis' head. His unconscious self cringed. The noises felt as though they were cracking his skull in half. They traveled from his head to his heart. His heart ached to think of all of his citizens lives who had been shattered because of his 'younger brother'.

Somehow, amongst all of his screaming citizens, he heard Arthur sobbing right beside his citizen. They were sharing the same devastating pain of loss; they were all hurting and crying together gave them strength. Strength that they weren't alone. That they had someone with them.

The voices of his people faded until it was just the Brit. Arthur's sobs morphed to whimpers. Francis called his name out, wanting to find a way through the impenetrable darkness and comfort him.

A second voice crescendoed as the whimpering began to fade. Fear flashed through Francis.

No, Angleterre! Don't go! Francis thought desperately.

Reality hit him like a rock. Conscious did not slowly come to Francis.
The sharp ache of his chest slammed against his chest and the pounding in his head didn't stop. Though all of his inner voices had died away, he still heard a voice.

Francis squinted his eyes in confusion hearing the same voice in his dreams. It had been Arthur that was speaking? When Arthur's cries had subsided it had been his own voice that had masked everything else,

Francis kept his eyes closed, not wanting to alarm him or silence him.

Francis felt his heart go out to the Brit. He didn't want him to feel any guilt about what happened. He already had too many emotions to deal with without adding guilt to Arthur's defeated shoulders.

Francis wouldn't stand to let the golden haired man think he was alone any further. He opened up his eyes, immediately blinded by the lights. He groaned silently. Arthur turned to look down at him just as Francis looked at him, forcing his eyes to adjust to the light.

"You're not unholy. Don't even think such a thing. I know you love Alfred and you're taking his death so hard that it hurts to see you in pain that I can't help you with." France said to him weakly.

Francis, had the situation were not so serious, would have laughed at the blush on Arthur's face.

"Francis…" Arthur let his voice trail off.

Francis reached out and took Arthur's hand despite the pain it brought to his chest. "You're so strong, yet you don't see it. I know how Alfred's death is eating you away on the inside and you try to mask it but you can't fool me. I know the pain won't ever go away. It'll get easier to deal with as more and more time goes on but you'll never truly forget. The bond between you to is too great. A-Arthur," Francis blushed. Should he really go through with this? Was it still too early for the Englishman to bear? "I love you. I've loved you for a while but I knew I could never get between you and Alfred even if I wanted too." Francis said before he would stop the words from leaving his mouth.

Oh crap! Oh crap! What would he say now? Would he still think that Francis was a pervert? Would he think Francis was weird and just saying that so he could take advantage of him while his mind was so weak?

Arthur let out a sob. For a moment, Francis felt guilty for making the man cry. Hadn't he already shed too many tears? Then he realized that the dam was starting to break. He knew that Arthur would never be able to move on with his life until he let the dam down long enough to let someone else in. They both squeezed each others hand.

"Angleterre, if you feel the same, I'll wait for you until you're ready to let someone inside your heart again." Francis said gently. He knew he might have to wait a while or he might not have to wait much but he would wait because what he said was true; he's loved Arthur for a while and he wanted to be with him. He would wait if Arthur wanted him to.

Arthur lets out another sob. Francis can practically see the bricks of the dam falling away. He gently pulled the golden haired man to him. Arthur hugged him back quickly and buried his face in Francis' shoulder. Arthur's shoulders shook as sobs wracked his tired body. Francis cooed lightly and rubbed his back. Arthur cried louder, touched that the Frenchman cared for him so much.

"Its ok, Angleterre. Get everything out; I'm here for you." Francis whispered in his ear. Arthur hugged back firmly though Francis could tell he was trying to be careful with him. Francis smiled gently and stroked Arthur's hair.

After a while, Francis decided that Arthur wasn't going to calm down soon and was probably uncomfortable. He moved over in the bed and tugged Arthur into it. When in the past, Arthur wouldn't stand being in the same room alone with Francis let alone a bed, Arthur crawled right in. He trusted Francis more not to be perverted. Francis smiled as Arthur curled into him carefully and nuzzled his neck in between Francis' neck and shoulder.

Francis was no fool. He realized how careful he had to be around the British man. He couldn't touch him to much or Arthur would think that he wanted him right then but he couldn't touch him too little or Arthur would suspect that he was in pain or that he was lying about loving him.

Francis gently found Arthur's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Arthur smiled gently and squeezed it back. Francis looked into Arthur's handsome face. He remembered seeing the absolute terror and shock when Francis had went down. He never wanted to see that face again. He wanted to see him smile for him and laugh that laugh that he only did with his fairy friends.

"I'll always be here for you, Angleterre." Francis whispered.

He got what he wanted; a simple smile.

A/N: Yay chapters done!

Omg! I'm sooo ticked right now it's not even funny! If you already don't know this, I write my stories in school in study hall or on the bus on my iPod. My last period class, this dude was making fun of my friends! Omg I'm so ticked that I started yelling at the dude. And since the teacher is like, my best friend (Seriously! We're tight yo!) and we both have horses she stuck up for my friends. The guy who made fun of them ticks me off. He needs to realize that he has no real friends and that no one even likes him! Gah! Sorry, I just really need to rant! I hate people so much so much! Not you guys obviously. I'm not saying that just because you read my stories but because you're all so wonderful and lovely. I'm gonna stop now before I give myself a heart attack. Thanks for letting me rant. I LOVE YOU ALL!

Review please. 3