The Sea Against The Storm

Chapter 6: Leave Me, Don't Leave Me

Francis had dozed off for a while to catch up on much needed sleep, but had only succeeded on being asleep for a few scattered hours. The sun had fallen before the attacks started again. This time, there was less talking from Oliver, and more ferocity behind the attacks. Francis had been asleep when the first one hit again, right before Arthur was about to doze off, and his scream had woken him. 

For the first few hours, it was on and off. The attacks would last to a few seconds to a few minutes. They hadn't lengthened to longer than five minutes according to Francis, because Arthur was in no state to keep time. Sometimes the attacks would consist only of the stabbing pain in his head, other times Oliver would try and make old memories resurface to weaken Arthur's strength. 

Oliver seemed to know the ones that worked the best were of the Blitz. 

To add to the wreck that was Francis' worries, he had to be there when Arthur was screaming out things when reliving these memories. "Get out of there!" was a common one that was the loudest, and other fainter ones seemed to be directed to soldiers. 

Speaking of Francis, he seemed a little worse off than Arthur by the way he looked. He rushed between the kitchen and living room, trying to get the correct medical supplies. Arthur had started running a horrid fever, and Francis continued to worry that at any second, Oliver would have control. How would he know it if Oliver tried acting like Arthur? A few times, he had to be sure Arthur was still there. He was mainly concerned with this because of a few things Arthur would say that sounded nothing like himself.

"Could you please get me some tea? Ah, thank you, Francis, you're too kind..."

Please? Francis knew something was up. 

Once, he reached out and began stroking his hair. 

Luckily, Arthur's eyes shot open, and began to glare daggers at the frenchman. "Keep your bloody hands off me, frog. I--" He coughed. "If you try anything, I'll--" But he was interrupted by Francis' laughter. Francis said nothing, but Arthur seemed to understand, and the room fell into silence as they anxiously waited for the next attack. 

"Don't worry, mon petit..." Francis whispered, interrupting the silence. He smiled sadly down at Arthur from his chair. "I won't leave you."

A hoarse reply came from Arthur, and Francis had to ask him to repeat what he said. Arthur made sure his eyes were anywhere but the frenchman's. "Don't say that." He repeated, louder, but still rather hoarse and quiet. When Francis asked for an explanation, Arthur snapped, "Don't. Say. That. It's what you always say, when you're about to turn around and leave me."

The elder nation was taken aback. Again, he asked for an explanation. "Don't play coy." Arthur growled, so quiet, Francis had to strain to hear. "Take Alfred's revolution for example... You sided with him, you git! You sided with him. I needed you, and you left. Don't make me empty promises, Francis. You'll leave me again one day. Just you wait..." 

Arthur was just waiting for the sappy reply of the bastard next to him, but it didn't come. Confused and slightly concerned, since this was odd behavior for Francis, Arthur turned his head -- which had previously been facing the end of the couch -- to Francis. The man in question had his head lowered, seeming to have suddenly taken a large interest in his lap, and his blonde hair covering bits of his face.

"What about you?" Francis whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm not the only one at fault. You've left me, I've left you. Don't you get it, Arthur? That's us. We fight one another, we get angry at each other, we bicker, we throw things, we can even go as far as leaving each other... But... In the end, we always come back to each other. Isn't that what matters?"