The Sea Against The Storm

Chapter 5: A Reason To Fight

Opening his eyes, the first thing Arthur saw was the ceiling.

As his senses came back to him, he realized he was lying down on the couch that he last remembered he was on. He had a soft pillow under his head, a few blankets on top of him, and a wet rag on his forehead. His nose twitched as the scent of something cooking, and he moved his head to try and catch a glimpse of the kitchen, but couldn't without getting up, which he didn't want to attempt with his sore muscles. 

He guessed that Oliver, even though he had no physical form, was resting. Maybe it was the effort and energy he had used to attack Arthur that needed replenishing, and he knew Oliver didn't want to attack Arthur while he was awake, at least not seriously. So, Arthur assumed he had a while to try and find ways out of his predicament. Except, the smell of food in the kitchen only confirmed Arthur's suspicion of Francis still being in the house. 

For a few minutes Arthur just laid there, staring at the ceiling and letting strength seep back into his bones. Finally footsteps sounded somewhere behind his head, and then they abruptly stopped. Arthur guessed Francis saw he was now awake, and he was proven right when Francis scrambled to the side of the couch, knelt down, and stared at Arthur with more worry than he ever thought Francis could show towards someone.

The first thing Arthur noticed about the frenchman was that he hard dark circles under his eyes, and then that he was wearing the same clothes he was when he first came to his house. "Arthur... Arthur, can you hear me?" Francis whispered, his voice cracking slightly. Arthur swallowed, his throat oddly dry, and replied, "Of course I can, frog.." 

Arthur wasn't expecting the reaction. Francis' eyes widened, a large smile curled on his lips, and Arthur was suddenly being squeezed between the two frenchman's arms in a hug. Arthur tensed, surprised by the strength, and wheezed out, "Crushing... Me..." In which Francis promptly let go.

Once Arthur was sitting up comfortably, he looked back at Francis to see the smile had vanished. "Angleterre... What's ail's you? You screamed... Then you... You kept screaming, Angleterre..." His voice was getting quieter and quieter. Arthur frowned, suddenly realizing that Francis hadn't slept. He wasn't sure why it didn't occur to him as soon as he saw the dark circles, but it just hadn't. 

"Francis." Arthur said. Francis looked up at him. Should he tell him? Those eyes... He looked so worried. Did the other countries ever worry about him like this? He had a hard time imagining it. He swallowed, and sat up a little straighter, holding up a hand when Francis tried to stop him. "It's Oliver." Arthur whispered. Francis arched a brow, but said nothing. So Arthur continued.

He explained about how he had been trying to get rid of his 2P. He explained that he'd spent all of his free time on it, and how the day before, he'd finally came across a spell he thought would work. He explained how something had gone wrong and now, Oliver's conscious was inside Arthur's body, wrestling his own for control. He told him that's why he screamed when he did, because the pain Oliver inflicted wasn't fake.

Francis surprised Arthur with how he listened. He listened without interruption, except for a few times he asked if he wanted anything because the story was dragging out quite a lengthy amount of time. Arthur said he'd be fine with some cupcakes, but changed his mind a few minutes later. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but he snapped out of it a few moments later, apologized to Francis, and said tea would be fine. 

"I need to spend as much time as I can looking for a counter-spell of some kind." Arthur said as he finished, already sitting up and planning to head off to his basement. However, he lost his balance as he was standing and would have fell into the coffee table if not for Francis catching him. 

"You cannot work in this condition, Angleterre... Surely there must be some other way to do this?" Francis insisted, moving to place Arthur back onto the couch, but Arthur protested. 

"If I don't do this, then I may never get another chance!" He shouted in his anger, not sure where the sudden burst of emotion came from, but unable to stop himself. "I can't let him win, because he'll--" He stopped himself before he mentioned Oliver showing him what he'd do to Francis, and lowered his voice. "He'll ruin my country." 

"Mon petit..." Francis whispered, and the gentleness in his voice surprised him. Arthur glanced up at the frenchman's blue eyes. "Just sit down. I'll help you come up with ideas. Do not worry about your country."

So Arthur reluctantly sat down. He sipped at his tea and listened to Francis' ideas. Much of them included fighting fire with fire, and how he believed the only way that this could truly turn out is with one of them being victorious and the other dying. Arthur liked the idea of Oliver dying, but himself dying? He'd died a few mortal deaths before and come back fine, which were unpleasant, but not permanent. 

They spent hours discussing these topics, and soon they began to talk about things that weren't even relevant. Arthur guessed it was the frenchman's way of trying to keep his spirits high. In a way, it worked, but usually not for long.

Francis had told him not to worry about his country. In truth, he wasn't. The images that Oliver had shown him, about what he'd do to Francis if he was able to win this battle for control over his body, were what terrified him. It made his heart ache like nothing he'd ever felt before, which made him furious at himself for not knowing valid reasons as to why. 

Even though he didn't give any credence to it, Francis Bonnefoy's safety had become Arthur Kirkland's reason to fight against Oliver.