Chapter 10: A Final Cup of Tea

Disclaimer: I clicked my heels three times and nothing happened. Well, my heels hurt, but nothing useful happened. Aside from the plot, I own nothing.

It was so bright that for a split second he could almost imagine that he was dead, or at the very least in a hospital. But as he blinked, trying to clear his eyes, he squinted as he realized the light wasn't artificial, it was natural. Bright, bright sunlight poured out in strong beams and he squinted, the unfamiliarity of his location jarring him. Where on Earth was he? The clear blue expanse of sky did little to answer his question. Above him was a giant oak, whose branches swayed gently in the breeze, its green leaves occasionally blocking out the dazzling beams of liquid gold. The soil smelled fresh, Arthur mused, full of life and goodness, so much like when he was a young boy.

He jumped up, horrified. In fact, it was exactly like when he was a child. He remembered this tree; he'd spent hours lazing under its branches, dreaming about his future. But how could that be possible? Tentatively, he touched a shaky hand to the back of his head. There was no blood, no pain, and no scar. The only plausible explanation left for him was that he had died. He couldn't escape the sting of a bittersweet realization. At the very least, he had died a hero, saving Alfred. Some good had come out of it.

"You are not dead yet, I'm afraid." a gentle voice cut in. Startled, Arthur whirled around. He came face to face with a slender woman, who couldn't have been in her thirties yet. Her blonde hair shone like spun silk and Arthur was close enough to see her violet eyes. She reminded him of someone, with her quiet calm demeanor…but whom? As he ruminated this, she continued, seemingly unaware of his consternation. "You see, this place is a waiting room of sorts, for those souls that are unable to pass on to the next realm. Everyone has a different starting point, for you it is this place that you associate with your birth. But whatever is your starting point, the choice of destinations is few I'm afraid. Most souls sent here are meant to move onto the next stage, but there are a few whose time on Earth is still not up. But what happens next, Arthur, is entirely upto you."

"How do you know my name? Who are you?" he demanded, shocked. "You have never met me in life, but mon cher Francis, he talks about you quite a lot. He cares for you a great deal and I have heard so many wonderful things about you. Arthur Kirkland, I am forever in your debt, because you saved my son." At this, his eyes widened, "You…you're…" here his brain seemed to short circuit, because although he knew her name, for some reason it wouldn't reveal itself to him. "Marie!" It came to him in a flash. "Oui." She said, smiling at him, almost sadly he thought.

"It has begun already," she said, "you see, the longer you remain here, the more this place will erode at the memories that you hold dear. Until eventually, nothing will be left of you but a spirit that wanders this realm endlessly, unable to remember that you are meant to move on."

He scrambled to his feet, "How do I move on?" But she only smiled gently at him once more. "When the time comes Arthur, you will know." She retreated back into the woods and Arthur darted behind her, trying in vain not to lose sight of the only chance he might have to get out of here. All too quickly however, Marie had disappeared, leaving Arthur alone. He spent the entire day roaming the forest, searching for any other person that might be able to help him, but it was pointless. No matter how long he searched and how loudly he screamed, there was no one else in this verdant version of hell.

Sinking down to the soft earth, he let his fingers sift through the cool grass, watching a large blue butterfly slowly drift past him. He sank into a restless slumber, he was so tired. A part of his exhausted mind wondered if Marie's warning would come true, if he'd be stuck here forever.

Arthur had barely drifted off it seemed, when he was pulled back sharply to reality by the sound of footsteps approaching him. He just had time to sit up before he was met by a cheerful, "Hello there!" He glanced up warily at the young woman in front of him, who wore a dress that was distinctly from the last century. She wasn't very tall, but something about her made him imagine that she wasn't very docile. Her long, thick, brown hair was tied back with a white handkerchief but what impressed him the most was a frying pan held in one hand.

He focused on her cheerful face once more as he realized that she was speaking again, with a slight Germanic accent, he thought. "Are you new here? You look rather new, lost at least. But I really couldn't be too sure. Sometimes I feel like I can't remember too much anymore you know? I feel like you're new though! And it's been ever so long since I've seen anyone else here!" He nodded slowly, "I just got here I think. My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland." She beamed at him.

"Well hello Arthur! My name is Elizaveta. How did you end up here? I died in a fire you see. I'll give you a tip to remembering things in this place: you must repeat them to yourself quite often. Otherwise this place will steal your memories and we can't have that."

Arthur thought hard, it was disconcertingly difficult to string his memories together. "I was trying to save someone, someone important. His name was Alfred and something bad was after him. He was… he was…" for a moment, he panicked as his mind went completely blank. "He was Francis' son! That's right! Francis! I loved him more than anything. I do hope they're alright. And I hope that he doesn't forget me either, like I seem to be forgetting him." He finished on a mournful note, green eyes dulling with resignation.

Elizaveta's face softened, "It is a horrible feeling isn't it, to forget someone that you care about so deeply. I know it all too well. I loved a man, Arthur, but I can't remember his name. I know he loved music a great deal and he was a talented musician. Sometimes, when it is very silent I can hear his fingers coax the most delicate of tunes from a beautiful grand piano. I can't remember his name, but I do recall that I loved him, more than anything."

"Miss Elizaveta," he asked, "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you have moved on?"

"I should Arthur, but I only remembered now when you reminded me. You see, when I came here first, I waited for so long. I died first you see, before him. I didn't want to move on without him, I was scared. But I waited so long that I forgot everything else." Arthur remembered Marie's words. A part of him wanted to wait and see if he could return to Francis, but the rational part of him realized that he couldn't wait here forever.

"Come on, Miss Elizaveta," he said, trying to sound brave, "We must look for a way out."

*Modern Day-Boston*

Francis looked at Llyr who had returned after talking to the doctor. The Welshman appeared haggard, and he stared woefully at his younger brother. "He's lost too much blood," he said hollowly, "The doctors are saying it's a miracle that he's still alive. They're saying that it's up to him now, if he still wants to remain alive or not."

Arthur looked so frail on the bed, under the bulky starched sheets. He was unnaturally pale, his normally vibrant green eyes were shut and his breathing was shallow. The doctors had hooked him up to a ventilator to help him breathe, but it had been a week now. The doctors had all but given up hope. But Iain had refused to pull the plug and a couple of very colorful Scottish curses had ensured Arthur's continued treatment.

"What about your magic?" Francis asked. When Llyr blinked confusedly at him, he clarified, "Isn't there some magic spell or potion that you can use to bring him back?" Llyr shook his head sadly, "I want to, believe me when I say I'd do anything to bring him back. But it's not safe you see. There are certain things that I just can't factor into these equations and that's a risk no one should be willing to take. Bringing back someone from the beyond is a nasty business. You see, sometimes what you bring back won't be completely human. So I can't use magic, Arthur wouldn't have wanted it."

"What about healing him completely? Making it easier for him to wake up?" Llyr lowered his head shamefully, "I can't do much healing, I'm afraid that was Arthur's forte."

Francis' eyes brimmed with tears. "Then there's nothing we can do?" "I wouldn't say nothing. The fae used to have a saying that even in a coma a person could still hear you, if they trusted you enough. If your relationship was strong enough, then nothing could separate you. Talk to him Francis, maybe you can bring him back." He left the room, leaving the Frenchman alone with Arthur.

He squeezed the limp hand that he held, willing some of his life into Arthur's. If only he could do something…

Meanwhile night had finally fallen and Arthur and Elizaveta had built a small fire. "Oh yes, day and night change rather bizarrely here." Elizaveta mentioned. "It's odd I suppose, though I can't really complain. That's just how it is."

The pair huddled around the fire, drawing what little warmth they could from it, it had become almost unbelievably cold. Arthur remembered with a twinge in his chest, the night he and Francis had huddled around the fire in the woods. Elizaveta had already fallen asleep and Arthur gazed at the night sky, watching the stars. All the constellations were missing and he couldn't even find the Pole star which he had learned to look for as a young boy. That was when it struck him, there were no faeries or sprites or gnomes here. There was nothing. Arthur had never felt so empty before.

The sky was so dark. He found it strange as he'd never been without Flutter or Flying Mint Bunny before. Even as a child, he'd had his brothers. And no matter how violent and insane they seemed to be, they were always there for him. He thought about Iain, who had taken him in and refused to let him face the press, who were like bloody animals even at the best of times. Iain had pushed him to work and keep living even when nothing seemed to go right.

Arthur sighed, did he really want to move on without taking the chance to tell Llyr that he had always looked up to the elder man? He knew Llyr was sorry for leaving him alone, but he couldn't really blame him, to be honest. Deep down, he knew the man had always just been looking out for himself. True, he had acted in his own interests, but if it wasn't for him, Arthur would have been completely defenseless and unprepared when it came to his magical life. He'd never get another chance to irritate his little brother, Peter, whom he'd helped raise after his return from the mental institution.

He'd never get another chance to talk to Antonio. They may have not been romantically involved any longer, but then the Spaniard was as good as family now. He knew that he'd miss a grand wedding because, sooner or later Antonio would propose to Lovino. He loved the feisty Italian far too much not to. His stomach grumbled unhappily at the thought of the paella he was missing out on. And bloody hell, he'd never tell Antonio to get rid of the accursed photos of him from university. That had been back in the days when he was even more hot-headed than he was now. Some bright spark had taken it upon himself to call Arthur 'a bloody limey'. He in his haste had dyed his hair a shocking lime green and had stood out like a traffic light for months.

But Arthur soon sobered down, thinking of one last set of people that he'd never get to see again. In the silence of the night, he could just hear Francis' voice, soft as he spoke to Alfred and Matthew, tucking them in for the night. He wouldn't lie; Arthur had briefly envisioned a future with them together as a family.

In the morning, Arthur would sit at a cozy dining table, sipping a cup of tea while reading his paper. Alfred and Matt would eat their breakfast and brush their teeth, before bidding their parents a fond farewell. They'd take the bus to school.

While Francis would handle the cooking, Arthur would help with the dishes, the clothes, whatever he could help with. Arthur would work out of home most of the time, unlike Francis who would probably continue being a chef of some sort.

Each morning, before he'd leave, he'd kiss Arthur ever so lightly. When he'd return, after dinner, after the boys were asleep, the pair would sit quietly in the living room. Francis would watch some TV program, whilst laying his head on Arthur's lap. Arthur meanwhile would read or embroider. And they'd be happy, because they had everything that they needed. But that was all a dream now. He might never have the chance to see them again.

At the same time however, he couldn't allow himself to forget them, he wouldn't. He had to find a way out. Gazing up at the inky sky, he tried to will himself to sleep. Suddenly, a flash of light caught his eye. It was brief, a pulsing beam of light that vanished, but he was sure that he had seen it. His mind wasn't playing tricks on him. He gasped, startled and jerked himself upright. Elizaveta shifted sleepily, "Is everything alright?" she asked tiredly rubbing her eyes.

"Ah…yes," he replied, "I thought I saw something, that's all."

"Go to sleep Arthur," she groaned, turning over on the other side.

His sleep was fitful and he easily woke before Elizaveta. One thing was clear though, that light he had seen was a sign, it had to be, and he'd be damned if he ignored it. Glancing up at the now lightening sky, he gazed at the direction in which the light had been. The position of the apparition was embedded in his head; he knew where they had to go. Elizaveta was still sleeping and he had to shake her shoulder, rousing her from her slumber.

She mumbled in her sleep, "Nein Roderich, just five more minutes." Arthur blinked in confusion, but then it dawned on him. Hadn't he read somewhere that the answers you were looking for the most came to you in your dreams? If that was the case it made perfect sense. Elizaveta thought of no one else except the man she loved, he must have been named Roderich. As Elizaveta awoke, her eyes clearing, Arthur idly wondered what this Roderich must have looked like. He'd have to be cheerful and upbeat to keep up with Elizaveta. Or maybe he was quiet and composed, a balancing contrast to her. He wondered if he should bring up her subconscious revelation but he decided against it. There was something melancholy about her when she dwelled on her past and it worried him.

When she asked him where they were going today, he explained his theory. "Hmm… that does make some sense I suppose," she said, "Either way, we don't have too much to lose." As they travelled, she explained that they had no need for food. "We're not really corporeal, hence there is no actual need for food. I suspect that the only reason we sleep is a psychological necessity. If our brains didn't dictate it, we wouldn't sleep."

Elizaveta was an interesting companion, he reflected. She explained that she was Hungarian. Arthur had never really met anyone from that area of the world and he was fascinated by her disjointed tales of her life. She was from a relatively small town, her family was remarkably liberal. As she ran through the fundamentals of her everyday life something struck him, in all probability, Elizaveta had existed before both the World Wars, before the unification of Prussia and Germany, before the advent of modern technology. The writer inside him supplied an endless number of questions that she cheerfully answered. It was incredible, he thought, what lay in those parts of the world that he had barely heard of.

That was when they came to a clearing in the forest, where the trees gave way to an unexpected oddity. It was a large mirror that was unnaturally clean and gleamed in the sunlight. "Some people believe that mirrors have strange powers," Elizaveta said softly, almost as though she was in a trance. "I wonder Arthur, if we have found it. I think we might have, don't you?"

Their feet carried them almost unbidden to the object and Elizaveta gazed into it longingly, one pale finger reaching out to gently stroke its surface. Arthur watched as it changed under her touch, turning almost liquid like, appearing like mercury. A change came over Elizaveta's face as well.

"Roderich!" she exclaimed happily, "You waited for me!" Glancing at the surface, Arthur saw a young handsome man, with dark hair and a pair of glasses. He was elegant, almost aristocratic and his eyes gazed lovingly at Elizaveta. She reached out for him instinctively and Arthur was amazed as she was pulled into the mirror and was gone. Now it was Arthur's turn. But he didn't want to go, after all, there was no one waiting for him on the other side.

"So what will you do?" a voice in his head whispered, sounding an awful lot like Aeuleus. "As Roderich waited for her, you too can wait for Francis. And after all, you never know, perhaps you might go back. This mirror lets those who are meant to, return home."

Aeuleus' voice was however soon drowned out and he could hear Francis' voice. "We miss you, mon lapin. I don't know if you can hear me. But I wish more than anything that you would open your eyes, so that I could see them once more. You know, I never got a chance to read your books. I'm sure they would have magnificent, like you. I never got the chance to thank you, not just for saving Alfred, but for saving me as well. And more than that I never got the chance to tell you that I love you.

More than anything, mon coeur, I love you and I would have loved to spend my entire life with you. And I know Arthur, you will open your eyes, because you are strong and it's not time for you to move on, I need you Arthur, so please, don't leave me."

As he listened to Francis, he didn't realize that he was moving closer and closer to the mirror, until his fingers brushed its cool surface. Sighing he let himself lean in, what happened now happened, he couldn't wait here indefinitely at the risk of forgetting the ones he loved. If he lingered it would only cause them more grief so it was for the best. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall, focusing his thoughts. If this was the end, then he wanted the last thing that he remembered to be Francis, Alfred and Matthew, smiling and alive. He wanted to remember his family.

"Alfred, lad isn't this your Shakespeare workbook on the table?" A small figure ran into the hall. "Thanks dad! I've been looking for it everywhere." Arthur smiled fondly at him.

"You're most welcome. Now are you all packed and ready for school?"

"You bet!" Arthur laughed, "Then you'd best hurry or else you'll miss the bus." He watched Alfred dart out of the kitchen only seconds before he heard Francis call out from the kitchen. He went to see what was wrong, raising an impressive eyebrow quizzically at him. "He left his lunchbox here. Do you think you can give it to him?"

Arthur was just in time to hug Alfred, hand him his Superman themed lunchbox and press a kiss to Matthew's hair. He waved goodbye to them as the school bus drove off.

It was a modest sized house, two floors with a small attic. They had three bedrooms, one was his and Francis', the second was the boys and the third was a spare for guests. When he had woken up in a hospital bed with terrible scratchy, starched linen sheets, he had looked into Francis' eyes and found it all too easy to ask him to move in with him. He had enough money to afford a modest sized house and Francis certainly had no qualms about leaving Boston.

As Arthur had predicted, Francis easily found a job, but not as a chef. Instead, he opened a quaint café not too far from where they lived and it was doing remarkably well. While he ran the café, which now had a few people helping him out, Arthur stayed at home and in the span of six months had already completed his first book of a new series. His publisher was thrilled. It was a different sort of work altogether from his previous series, darker and more mature, but nonetheless pleasing. It was a story of a young Hungarian peasant girl and her adventures in a male dominated society. His publisher had asked him how he had gotten the inspiration and such amazing detail about the setting, but he just shrugged his shoulders. There were some secrets that he wouldn't give up.

So Arthur stayed at home, scribbling away at his next book, tending to his roses (one of the things that had endeared this house to him was the large garden), talking to Flutter and Flying Mint Bunny. Occasionally, he would get a craving for a cup of tea and he would head down to Francis' café. It wasn't like he missed him or anything; he just fancied a cup of good tea.

Evenings were peaceful, with homework and video games and books. After dinner, there was usually a fight over what program they'd watch on TV. Arthur and Alfred favored Doctor Who while Francis and Matthew liked some of the TV dramas that came on.

On the weekends, they went to visit Iain and Llyr. His brothers had surprisingly enough, taken to Francis instantly. They took their job as uncles very seriously and Arthur would never forget the moment when Iain had presented the boys with a kilt for their birthdays.

He passed by a picture of them at Antonio's wedding in the hallway. That had been a day to remember. Antonio and Lovino had a small wedding, made even more interesting by the appearance of their new friend Ludwig who was dating Feliciano, Lovino's little brother. Arthur grinned as recalled Lovino's 'fond' nickname for Ludwig. The potato bastard's older brother, Gilbert, had shown up too. It had been years since he had seen him. He still had his bird, which had promptly curled up in Matthew's hair and gone to sleep.

That reminded him, he needed to go down to the post office and send out some invitations. He had proposed to Francis; he and his fiancé (the thought alone made him unthinkably happy) had decided on a small wedding at home. A quiet affair with no frills, only friends and family.

Francis was almost ready to leave. He smiled indulgently at Arthur before beckoning him forward and fixing his tie. Arthur smiled sheepishly at him. "You're going to see your publisher again?"

"Hmm…" he hummed, trying to pull Francis back for another kiss. The man laughed, shoving him away playfully. "Later, after I get home."

"Alright, have a good day love." He turned locking the door behind him. But he didn't follow Francis immediately, leaning on the doorframe, gazing at him.

"I think we've done rather well for ourselves don't you Flutter?"

Author's Note:

Alright, how many of you thought I was going to kill Arthur? I was toying with it, and the original ending was a little more angsty, but I decided I wanted some fluff.

I can't believe this story is done. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, put this on story alert and favorite it. You guys rock! I'll be honest, I never thought my first Hetalia story would be FrUk, but the moment I heard France's 'Hon hon hon', I was hooked.

That's it for now! Every review counts to getting Iggy a cup of tea!