Mon prince, un beau mari

Pairing: Francis Bonnefoy/Arthur Kirkland

Warnings: Another universe, coma

Hetalia is created by Himaruya Hidekazu.

For Mya who wished for an alternate ending, which resulted to alternate story with same setting – only with a different ending, of course.

Word count: 3009

Un-beta'd.

Mon prince, un beau mari

He breathed harshly, swallowing as he pushed himself to the front desk, knowing exactly what was happening – that it was all in his head.

"Mon mari, s'il vous plaît!" There was a hidden fear in his voice, trying to stay calm as possible, but his body hit out in every direction, his stomach in a catastrophe of a mess, turning and twisting in uneasy manner. He held his breath as the nurse looked up at him.

"What's the name of the patient?" She asked, sitting ready with patient records. He swallowed on dry throat, which felt like sandpaper and rasped up the inside of his throat.

He croaked out the name; "Arthur Kirkland." He could feel the heavy burden in his chest, and all he wanted now was to throw himself on the floor to cry pathetically like the man he was known to be, but he could not do this – Arthur would not approve of such behaviour.

"He is currently getting an examination, so please, if you may go to the waiting room on the third floor." She pointed out the direction on the map she had taken up and laid on the desk; "Just wait for the doctor in the waiting room; she is most likely there, waiting for you." Francis nodded in gratitude, bowing slightly before taking off to the elevators that would lead him to the third floor, to him.

The scent of the hospital was killing him, trying to show him that this was the cleanest place on earth, washed every single second. Breathing out as the elevator made a noise and a speaker voice said; "Third floor."

White walls, white floor and the disgusting smell of disinfection spray; this was the hospital, which he had feared for so long. He walked steadily down the hallway to the waiting room, although his heart thumped so quick and hard, making him so dizzy over the whole situation.

The waiting room, however, was painted in the lightest yellow colour he had seen that could be defined as yellow. The room was spacious, with couches along the walls and a couple of chairs, there were a few desks holding some magazines and news papers, but to him, the details did not matter so much. All he saw was the woman, sitting there in a doctor's coat and looked at him with piercing eyes that seemed to stare into the very him.

"Francis Bonnefoy?" She called, her pen thumping against the medical records she held in left arm. Francis swallowed down his nervousness and approached her slowly.

"Yes?" he answered when he stood just as close as he needed to, seating himself down on one of the couches, looking at her with a worried expression. Her facial expression softened up.

"He's undergoing a surgery right now, and all I can say is that we think about letting him in a medical form of coma, due to uncertainty about his brain." She looked at the records and hummed lightly, "And also he lost quite some blood," Francis looked alarmed at that, but she clapped his hand in comfort. "Relax... but we have ordered some blood from the blood bank, so it will be alright, you will see." She smiled at him as much as she could muster before the smile faltered.

"How much of a surviving rate does he have?" He asked her, looking at the woman before him take a deep breath.

"We don't know, Mister Bonnefoy. It is still uncertain." She said truthfully, and Francis felt his heart get heavy in his chest. "The surgery will most likely soon be over, Mister Bonnefoy. I will tell you his condition afterwards. I have to go down now to them." She raised herself from the chair, and Francis looked after her as she moved her way out of the waiting room, nodding a hello to one of the nurses walking by.

There was not much they could do, but wait? Francis covered his face tiredly with his hand and sighed out and felt his body suddenly get so much heavier.

Cold handed, shaken up and lonely in a waiting room at the hospital, waiting for something good to know about Arthur. He took up his cell phone, nervous to come in contact to anyone, sounding stupid in their ears and the likes, but he had to do this.

He dialled Antonio's number with far too much difficulties, heard it call a couple of times and all he wanted to do was to hang up and send a text message, but he felt the necessity to call instead of texting, the normal way of telling people through a voice.

"Hi, it's Lovino." A voice, harsh and cold spoke out, probably quite angry at the moment. Francis wanted to laugh a little, but found it somehow inappropriate.

"Hi – it's me, Francis. May I talk to Antonio?" He asked, and he heard the Italian curse before calling for 'the tomato bastard'. It was just like that, and it had always been like that; the name calling and the angry spirited boy.

"Yes?" Antonio sounded like he had been running, puffing like some kind of a train. He just had to smile at this.

"Hi, it's me. I need you to come down to the hospital with Mathieu and Alfred today." He heard a stunned silent and then his friend's careful voice; "Something wrong?" He just simply wanted to laugh at the whole situation, to cry, to feel panicked, but it was all frozen in him and the only thing he could do was to wait and hope, hope so much.

"It's Arthur; he's in a surgery right now." Francis explained in short words, looking up as he saw the female doctor and a nurse walk up to him. "Just come to the hospital with them." He hanged up and stood up, striding up to them.

"We are going to put Mister Kirkland in a medical coma, and you are allowed to him in two hours minimum, they are patching him up as we talk," she smiled and the nurse behind her looked at him with an unreadable facial expression. "Now, Lukas here will take you and get some papers signed, just for the safety reasons, of course." She nodded to Lukas, who indicated him to follow him.

"Don't be mean to him Lukas, and I mean it!" The doctor called after them as they walked out of the waiting room and walked down the hallway. Lukas walked like he was floating around, but the man seemed quite steady as they came to the desk that was at the third floor. "This is the nurses desk, if you need anything or anything is happening, you come to us – ok?" Lukas went over to a paper pile and got out some forms from it. "All I need you to do is to sign this paper, and fill in the necessary things. We already got the medical things, but if there's something more that you think may be important to mention, just write it in -" a finger smoothly pointed on a box "- in here. It shouldn't be too difficult?" Francis shook his head no and started filling it out as Lukas walked away to what seemed to be the staff room.

After filling in and quickly checking it over, he nodded to himself that he was done, and Lukas returned with a cup of coffee and a sour expression on his face.

"Here, take this and go back to the waiting room, or wander down to the cafeteria." He took the paper, pushed the coffee into Francis hands and went to sit down.

Balancing to not let the coffee spill over, he got back to the waiting room in a slow pace and got settled down quickly, drinking the disgusting coffee. He flipped up his cell phone and looked over it, seeing the picture on the save screen. His two sons were sleeping in the arms of his husband, who looked like an angel surrounded by the big, white pillows they had in their bed back at home. He had to smile at the serenity of the smile his husband gave, making his heart flutter so lightly.

There was a sound to his left and two squealing children came running up to him. "Papa, papa!" They chorused and he smiled big at them, placing the cup of coffee on the desk beside him, taking them both up in a hug. "Where's daddy?" A big smile was plastered on Alfred's face made Francis heart hit back at him – the realization that they would probably lose Arthur, which meant he had to tell them. He kissed the boy's forehead.

"He is getting a healing spell from the doctor." Francis told the four year old, who grinned even wider.

"Healing spell? Way cool!" He jumped out of Francis lap and started to run off to the door. "Uncle, Uncle, you heard? Daddy is getting a healing spell!" Looking up at his friend, Francis smiled gratefully, patting Mathieu's head.

"He will get better, alright." Antonio said, seating down next to him, leaning back on the couch. "It's still unbelievable that he is in a surgery." Antonio continued and patted Francis' shoulder. "What happened anyway?"

Francis swallowed, setting Mathieu down on the floor, telling his two sons to go and play. The two happily ran off together and played in between themselves. Francis could only sigh and looked over at his relaxed friend. "He was in an accident, and he had some damages they had to operate on immediately, and there's an uncertainty about his brain." He felt so drained for energy when he was done telling, his mind playing over the call he had received from the hospital, them telling him what was going on. It was unbelievable.

"Well, all we can do is waiting, after all." Antonio whispered in comfort. "It would have been nice to have Gilbert here, right?" They shared a small knowing smile.

"Yes, it would, but he's so busy in Hungary with that girl, it's so silly." They laughed and relaxed, looking over at the children playing. Alfred was the loudest and Mathieu followed him everywhere with this big, sparkly kind of smile. "They are so adorable." Francis mumbled, and Antonio nodded in agreement.

"Lovino said he wanted a child yesterday," Antonio piped in and Francis looked over him with a surprised look in his eyes. "He is still uncertain, but he is warming up on the idea!" Antonio said with a big, carefree smile. Francis could really feel the happiness from his friend.

"It is good to know that I can become an Uncle and Arthur too!" Francis said excitedly for his friend's case. The two of them were tied together somehow in years of carelessness and running about like some crazy maniacs on sugar.

"When are they done with the surgery?" Antonio asked Francis, and Francis sighed a bit.

"I think they are already, said they were patching him up now and going to put him in a medical coma." He looked up into the ceiling and closed his eyes. Ah, how tired he was and how much he wanted to see that grumpy man again, going on about him being so foolish and a frog. He just wanted to hear his voice already.

"I need to get back soon to Lovino," Antonio said, stretching himself and smiled to Francis. "We will come down tonight and take care of Mathieu and Alfred while you worry about your man." Francis stood up and hugged the man. He was so thankful, so – so thankful for having such great friends. "And call Gilbert, he would probably loved to know what's going on here." They bid their goodbyes, and the children waved their hands and wished Antonio well-off.

Francis slumped down in the couch again, felt the need to just breathe and breathe – forever. He coughed and felt a small hand on his. "Papa, you ok?" He looked up into those big, innocent blue eyes that belonged to Mathieu. He had to smile – seeing the same, familiar blue that Alice (Arthur's sister) had was so beautiful.

"I am alright, Mathieu, mon ange." He ran his fingers through the blonde hair that was so much lighter in colours than Alfred, reminding him of the touched sunlight in the mornings whenever Arthur would pad in the kitchen in sleeping wear and a very tired look on his face. He smiled over it and kissed Mathieu's forehead. "I am alright."

"Promise?" Mathieu whispered, his voice so weak there he stood and held onto his shirt so tightly. "Because it hurts me to see you hurt, papa." He stood there with a determined face to cheer him up, and all Francis could do was hug the boy close.

"Papa promise and he promise a lot. You may kick him in the shin if he breaks it." Francis whispered, and Mathieu giggled, and he heard a little "humph" from Mathieu's right. "Oh, Alfred, come here!" He hugged the two boys again, loved to know that they were his own children.

The minutes ticked away, though, and after releasing them and letting they go and play, he kept looking at his cell phone, looking for anything. There was the texts that Arthur used to send, about whether or not they needed more bread, or if there was any missing for the 'Time Magazine' or 'Le Monde'. They were few, but they were there. Some had small endings with a heart, or sometimes even; "I love you, you fool." This was just Arthur – just who he was, awake and at work.

He looked over at the door, saw the doctor looking at his children with a smile, before turning to him; "You can see to him now." He smiled big, a big and happy smile, and he wanted so much to just let it flow over him, calling his children to him, who looked just as eager as he was. Following after the doctor, she pointed out the room immediately. "Just remember, he is in sleep for just a few days when we feel it is secure for him to get woken up." She smiled and opened the door to the room.

The room was dimly lit, with one bed in and a few chairs. Francis walked over to the bed slowly as his children walked ahead of him with quicker, more eager steps. "Wow~!" Alfred said while looking at all the wires and the machines, the tubes and such connected to Arthur who lied still on the bed. "Is this the healing spell you talked about, papa?" Alfred said excitedly, stepping over to Francis, dragging him more quickly to the bed.

"Yep, the healing spell is working on making daddy good as new. He will be like Sleeping Beauty for a few days, though." He said to them, and Alfred nodded, putting on a serious face before looking up at Francis.

"Then you will be the prince in the shining armour to wake him up." Alfred exclaimed, and Mathieu nodded wildly with him.

He could only laugh at their eagerness, and he wondered his gaze up on his husband, looking at the bandage on his body, his chest having been wrapped up, his left arm broken and the normally wild hair of his completely down, kind of like drenched with sweat.

Walking up to him, he placed his hand on his warm hand, smiling softly over the serenity and the peace that was fitting so perfectly on his face. Looking around, he took a hold on a chair and moved it closer to the bed, taking a hold of his husband's hand, feeling the roughness on the fingertips, calloused and just simply the part he always would see write so beautifully down everything.

"Papa, we will just sit here and play, ok?" He nodded; not taking his gaze away from Arthur's sleeping face. Thick eyebrows, not a frown in sight and just the very person he always gazed at when waking up in the mornings. He loved this man so dearly, so very, very dearly.

"Just wake up soon, ok?"

There was a faint beeping and a hand in his, Arthur could notice, and he took in a breath. His head ached, his lungs were burning and he was thirsty, oh so thirsty. He tried to open his eyes, but there was stickiness, and the difficulties to open them were at large. His heard a gasp, the smallest gasp he had heard in his life, and he tried to move, moving his fingers.

"Arthur..." There was a voice; his voice. Arthur struggled to move, but was so confused to why everything was so out of place inside his body.

"Now, you have to relax, Mister Kirkland..." and there was an unknown voice on his left and he felt a stinging pain and gasped out. "Don't get too worked up, Kirkland." The voice continued and a pinching feeling entered his arms, and he finally got his eyes up, trying to see anything in the brightness.

"Arthur!" A voice, so familiar – it just to be him... he moved himself a little, looking at the man to his right. Yes, yes, it was him. Nothing had taken him from him. He felt a happiness surge through him as he looked at the man beside him.

"Fra-ncis..." He tensed up as he felt yet another pinching, only this time it turned into a calm burning. He made a face, and felt a pair of lips brush over his forehead.

"I missed you so much." He heard Francis say, and there just simply was not anything else he wanted on this earth than the man that made him feel so loved.

"I..." He breathed out, coughing a little, licking his lips, "I love you, Francis."

Francis started to cry, and Arthur held back his own tears.

"Je t'aime, Arthur. Tu est mon monde, ma vie et mon coeur."

Je t'aime, mon beau mari, mon prince.