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The Scent of a Rose	By : larien04 Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2855 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and I make no money off of this fic!

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
It had been four years; four years since the Battle of Britain and four years since Arthur had had a decent night’s sleep.

The eventual threat of Ivan and his troops had made Hitler turn his eye from Britain making things marginally less stressful for the English. War still raged on but through the forging of the Lend-Lease Act with Alfred resources weren’t so sparse anymore.

Arthur operated on auto pilot these days and part of it was because he had stopped caring about things, everything really, the ‘diplomatic missions’ he went on were endless and the other missions he was sent on to capture enemy territory seemed boring; everything was boring.

The nights were the worst, first the loneliness would set in and then when sleep did take him the bombs would come and the fires would rage; not the real bombs, of course, but they were real enough. He would never get more than three-four hours of sleep per night because the sounds of his own screams would be loud enough to wake him, and then he would be covered in sweat and left with the lingering sound of a voice echoing in his mind and the remnants of a smoke filled dream; the voice always said the same thing: “Arthur ****I cannot leave you” there was something that was said in the middle of the sentence but Arthur could never hear what was said. Every night he would swear to himself that he was going to make his dream-self hear the middle of the bloody sentence but he never did and it tortured him.

The people he spent the most time with urged him to seek professional help, suggesting he might be having some symptoms of PTSD but Arthur stubbornly refused to get any kind of treatment so every single night Arthurs bed would be drenched in sweat and every single night the soldiers would cover their ears to keep the sounds of Arthurs screams out of their dreams too.

They couldn’t dismiss him from his duties, after all they did still need him and his mental state had not affected his judgment in battle in any way or any of his other decisions. Some suspected that somehow his brain had spilt into two parts, one dealing with the ongoing war and the other constantly in a state that was somewhere between crippling depression and paranoia.

This attitude had become the norm for some time now and so when Arthur was handed an American newspaper entitled Stars and Stripes that read “PARIS IS FREE AGAIN” in all capitals it surprised everyone when he announced that he would be leaving for Paris later that night. Nobody attempted to stop him knowing full well that if Arthur was going to Paris that night then they would be able to get a peaceful nights rest.

Nobody attempted to stop him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t questioned.

“Why are you going to waste your time with those surrender monkeys?” one of the ranking officers asked him, obviously disgusted by the British Nations choice of night time entertainment.

“France is an old friend, and an Ally after all, I merely want to congratulate him on a job well done. ” Arthur replied matter of factly.

The officer snorted in derision “Congratulations would be in order; if the French had had any part in their own liberation. Bloody drunks. Paris is going to be filled to the brim tonight with those damn Americans and filthy women. ”

Arthur ignored the idiot; the man obviously hadn’t been reading the underground newspapers. Sure, Alfred had a role to play in the liberation of Paris but that didn’t mean the French sat there and let the Americans do all the work.

“Why do you care anyways?” the officer went on “There was a time when you would have clapped my back at that and we would have laughed about it later at the pub. ”

Arthur shrugged, the man had a point but lately he couldn’t find it in him to hate Francis as much as he used to, at least not while there was a real threat to the man. Of course, if later, Francis were to ask him if he had been worried about him the Englishman was going to vehemently deny it.

The train ride to Paris took around 4 hours and Arthur managed to get himself in a state of utter distress by the time the train arrived at the station. What if Francis wouldn’t want him there? Why would they want an Englishman there other than to poke fun at? What if Francis was angry at him for not being more help over the past four years?

“Bloody hell; look at me, fussing over a frogs feelings. Maybe the men were right, maybe I do need some help” he nervously assured himself.

Arthur was no stranger to France and it didn’t take him long to find lodging for the evening and it took even less time for him to find out the whereabouts of the party that was being held in honor of the brave French and American soldiers.

The smell of French food mixed with alcohol and sweat assaulted his senses as he entered the club that night. From the doorway he looked around and after seeing the scantily clad women making love to the stage pole he knew that up front was where the man would be.

******Meanwhile******

“Come on dude, look at these women! You totally need to take one home with you!” Alfred laughed his boisterous laugh trying to encourage the Frenchman to have a good time.

Said Frenchman was sitting in the front row, of course, and the women were throwing all sorts of suggestive looks in his direction but Francis hardly noticed; he was slouched over in the red velvet love seat and nobody would have known that Paris had just been liberated by looking at him.

“Francis. ” America said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone, putting a hand on his shoulder “He’s not coming and it’s been what like five years since you’ve been together? You know Arthur lost his memory of your time together; don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“Vous comprendrez un jour, Alfred” Francis responded with a heavy heart and finished off the wine he had been nursing all evening.

*****

The club wasn’t so much large as it was crowded and Arthur was never a very sociable person to begin with; he loathed parties like this and desperately wanted the French waitresses to put on some clothes.

“Really? A French maid outfit?” he muttered to himself in disgust “Very original. ”

The more he looked around and the longer it took him to find Francis, the less he wanted to be here. The frog would be speaking in frog-speak to his fellow frogs and they wouldn’t want Arthur to ruin their party. Maybe it would be better to go back to the hotel and phone Francis in the morning; it certainly would be easier.

“Right then, I’ll worry about the frog in the morning” he resolved, turning around abruptly and falling over from the force of the man he bumped into.

“Iggy?”

Arthur looked up in pure disgust from the rudeness of the man who had just spilt beer all over his jacket.

“Wait. Alfred? You yank; don’t the people in your country have any manners? Help me up you idiot. ” Arthur spat out in typical spastic fashion.

“Dude! This is perfect! Ole Frenchy will be thrilled that you showed up to his shin dig! Come on!” the American practically gushed, pulling Arthur up with one hand.

“Wait just a minute here, wanker! My jacket is completely ruined; look you spilled your disgusting beer all over it. ” The British Nation seethed.

“Hey man, calm down; just take off your jacket. See? It didn’t even touch your perfectly pressed white shirt” the younger nation reasoned as Arthur folded his beer-soaked jacket neatly over his arm.

“I just wanted to congratulate the frog on a victory is all” Arthur unnecessarily explained himself “I can’t seem to fight my way over to the front.”

“No prob!” America beamed, grabbing Arthur by the arm and pushing his way through the crowd.

“Yo! Francis!” Alfred called out as soon as they were in ear shot of Francis “I brought you a present!”

Arthur fumed and pulled away from his former colony “I’m not a gift you damn wanker!”

At the sound of an unmistakable British accent Francis turned his head and when he saw Arthur he immediately got out of his seat

“Arthur? Êtes-vous vraiment ici?”

A/N: Go ahead, say it, people who use cliff hangers are jerks. I know, I know. Don’t worry though, Ch.9 will be up later today since I’m a slacker and missed yesterday.

Translations:

Vous comprendrez un jour, Alfred-“You will understand one day, Alfred. ”

Arthur? Êtes-vous vraiment ici? - “Arthur? Are you really here?”
- 7
- 8
- 9
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The Scent of a Rose