The Long Way Home (FrUk)

Chapter Seven:

*Arthur's POV*

For the third time in the past three days, I woke up in the hospital. Although this time it wasn't to the screaming of medical attendants or the bittersweet voice of Francis.

I must have alerted a machine that I was awake, for an overly perky woman entered my room with a tray of food.

"Good morning Mr. Kirkland." She chirped with a toothy smile.

"Good morning to you as well." I responded curtly. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you acquire my last name...I surely don't remember what it is..."

"The man asking for you in the lobby gave us your information. He's been waiting for visiting hours to open...He hasn't left since last night." She smiled brightly. My heart stopped.

"Did he give you his name?"

"No...I'm sorry, Sir."

"Are visiting hours available yet?"

"Yes...In fact, they have been since about a half an hour ago. The man in the lobby was waiting to enter until you were awake. Should I send for him?"

"Please do..." I responded quickly. I watched in anticipation as the door creaked open...sure enough the mysterious Frenchman entered.

"Bonjour, Arthur." He smiled weakly.

"Good morning to you as well." I responded for the second time.

I found myself staring at the man. Dark purple rings circled Francis' eyes...He looked half-dead.

"Francis..." I asked. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

He laughed.

"Would it make you feel better if I lied?"

"No." I said firmly. He threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine! I'll tell you the truth. I barely even blinked last night...I stayed here the entire time."

I frowned.

"Are you that daft?" I scolded.

"Pardon?" He responded, taken aback.

"What bloody good was worrying yourself sick supposed to do?"

He laughed once again.

"I'm not being funny you git."

"Well it's just that you sound exactly like Arthur...even when you don't remember who that person was." He explained.

"Oh." I said. "You really need sleep, you know. It's not heathy."

"Oh...well in that case, I'll just go to the front desk and book myself the hospital's most luxurious suite." He retorted satirically. "And don't even bother suggesting that I go to my house to rest. I refuse to leave."

"My God you're stubborn, aren't you?"

Francis nodded with a small side grin.

"Problem solved." I added.

"And how's that?" He arched an eyebrow. I slowly scooted to one half of the small and impossibly uncomfortable hospital bed.

"You can lay down here...I can sit where you are."

"Are you insane?! Arthur...you have a concussion and several broken ribs! There is no way that I'm letting you sit on this!" He elaborated emphatically, pointing to his plastic chair.

"Only one of them is broken...the rest are bruised." I mumbled under my breath.

"Alright...then you can just sit next to me on here." I chided.

"Arthur." He laughed. "You have severe injuries...I don't wish to further endanger you by overcrowding your already squished personal space."

"I won't mind....honest. I think resting for a bit would do you good. It would make me happy." I grinned toothily. Francis had given up, or perhaps he was simply too tired to argue any further. He strode over to the bed and layed down.

"Bonne nuit , mon Angleterre." He said sleepily.

"Francis...It's eleven in the morning..." I corrected.

"Well in that case, Bonjour."

I chuckled.

"Bonjour, Francis Bonnefoy."