10Chapter 2 "Paris is Indeed Splendid"
A/N: I wonder if anyone reads these little author notes, I know I do when I read others fanfictions…hmm, someone should review and tell me one of these days (laughs uneasily) I dunno if I would wanna know your opinions on my rants, though. That idea sorta kinda frightens me. By the way, I chose one of France-Niichan's character songs for this chapter title one, because it sounds pretty, two, it's a common theme of mine to use song titles as chapter titles and three, WE BE GOIN' TO PARIS! Yupp, I just gave you a spoiler…please enjoy the second chapter, and please read and review unless you want me to shank you with my car keys!
France awoke the next morning to the peaceful chirping of birds outside his window. Bright sunlight bounced happily in from the outdoors and refracted off of the white walls. Lazily, France allowed his blue eyes to wander about the room, taking in every piece of Americana Alfred had carefully and tastefully placed throughout the room. Sighing, the nation snuggled into the comfort of the bed, pulling the covers up to his nose, willing the problems of the world to just disappear. "America certainly has good taste," the blonde mumbled, rolling over, inviting the open arms of sleep to coddle him once again, "Mm and a good taste in mattresses."
"Wake up, Francis!" A sharp voice snapped from outside France's closed door.
Moaning sleepily, the Frenchman rolled over and buried under the covers once again. "Non," He mumbled, sleep masking his voice. "I'm quite content where I am."
The door opened, revealing England, still in his pajamas. "You dolt, we have matters to attend to. You don't have all day to be molesting the mattress." England frowned and stomped over towards France, who just turned away. "America insisted we let you sleep, but we've let you sleep long enough. Come on, you git, up and at 'em." Arthur snatched the blankets and tugged them away from Francis's body.
Annoyed, the blonde Frenchman snatched his blankets back and tucked himself in. "Oui, I understand that we have problems to attend to, but right now, I require my beauty sleep."
England huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "You're impossible, damn frog."
"You need to learn how to control your temper, mon cheri."
Arthur growled at the back of his throat. "Just—just get up would you?"
France sighed and shook out his blonde curls, allowing them to fall forward in his face, "Oui, oui." France yawned and stretched slightly, curling his toes back and forth until he felt more awake. After what felt like an eternity, France crawled out of bed, wrapping a robe around himself and trudged downstairs. "Good morning," he yawned, stepping into the kitchen.
"Ni hao," China greeted, "I'm glad you could finally join us, France."
France nodded, still half asleep. "No Ameriqué?" he asked, fighting back another yawn.
"No, he's still sleeping." Germany responded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Why?"
"Ah, well, England had told me that America insisted that you all let me sleep, so I just wanted to merely extend my thanks. Contrary to what other nations may think, America can truly be a kind soul."
England frowned and walked into the room. "He chucked a book at me this time."
Germany looked up from his newspaper and shook his head at the Brit. "Perhaps that's telling you that you should stop trying to wake everyone up."
Arthur huffed and sat in a chair, picking up his half-empty tea cup, closing his green eyes. "Yes, well, we have important things to attend to. I heard Paris is one of the cities on Russia's list…we need to go to France and see what's going on, perhaps even stop Ivan dead in his tracks."
France flinched slightly. His Parí on Russia's hit list? Impossible! "Why would Russia want to decimate my beautiful city?"
England cracked open one of his eyes and glanced at France. "Do you really think Ivan's going to allow any nation to be missed by his war path? I think not. I mean, for God sake's, he attacked America!"
"Then we go to Paris." France mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the piercing emerald ones of England. The idea of Paris being under siege made France shudder. His poor nation had already been felled by enemies in two other major wars, and he wasn't about to let it happen again. "I'll go wake Ameriqué."
The way to Paris was uneventful. Each nation sat silently on the plane ride from the USA to France. France even stayed silent, staring out the window into the seemingly never-ending sky. Armed with ample time, the blonde nation allowed his mind to wander, thinking of the horrors that another war would entail.
"France?"
Francis snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over at the two bright blue eyes staring at him. "Oui Ameriqué, what is it?"
"Oh, nothing," The younger nation took a seat next to France and sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I was just checkin' on ya. I dunno, you seemed kinda in a stupor, ya know? Anyway, everyone else on this damn plane is either sleeping or too stuffy to have a decent, carefree conversation with."
A small smile graced France's lips. "I appreciate your concern, but I was only thinking, nothing more." Francis shook his head slightly and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear. "Is there something on your mind, Alfred? You're uncharacteristically subdued."
America jerked his head up and eyed France, "Oh, sorry." He laughed uneasily. "I'm just worried about Spain. I mean, I know the two of us had our dealings in the past and he always plays practical jokes on me, but he really is a nice guy. I really hold no grudge against him, especially for Texas," America, subconsciously, adjusted his glasses. "I just kinda provoked him, I guess and I should apologize and—"
"Ameriqué, you're rambling. Take a breath and calm down. Spain bears no ill will towards you, trust me; the two of us have had this conversation before. And to ease your concern, I'm sure Antonio is all right. He may seem sort of spacey—maybe naïve, and too carefree, but in all reality, Spain is very strong."
"Why can't the world just get along?" America frowned and bit his lip.
France blinked, blue eyes widening. "You're so young," he sighed. "The world will never 'just get along'. We're all too different, and there will always be those power crazed nations who thirst for other's blood. It's inevitable."
"I know that. I really do. It's just wishful thinking, is all."
France allowed a smile to grace his lips again. "I know. We all wish for a peaceful world, too bad we may never see it. By the way, how are you feeling, America? Your little façade is very impressive."
America released his knees and slumped a little in the seat. "Eh, I'm okay I guess," he rubbed his chest gingerly. "It hurts, though. I can feel DC burning, people dying…etcetera. I dunno, the pain is a worse than the War of 1812—when England and Canada burned DC in 1814. I'll be all right though."
"I see," France glanced out the window again. "It's something none of us will ever get used to. I wish the best to you and your nation."
"What will you do if Paris is besieged?" Curious blue eyes stared at France.
France laughed. "I'll run that Russian bastard into the ground."
"So much for a carefree conversation," America laughed. "We're sorta havin' a heart to heart here, aren't we?"
"Oui, but conversations like this are good every once and awhile. It prevents us from lashing out, like what happened at the world meeting between you and Angleterre."
"I still wanna apology for that," America pouted.
France laughed lightly and looked out the window, Paris coming into view. "Yes, well, you'll have to beat that one out of that stubborn tea-sipper."
PARIS, FRANCE
France stepped out onto the streets of Paris and took a deep breath, taking in the alluring scents of his beloved city. "Gorgeous, non?" France stretched and glanced up at the Eiffel Tower. "Such marvelous structures all gathered in one magnificent city. It's spectacular." France smiled and glanced at the nations behind him.
"Yes, yes, stop bragging. We have business to attend to." England snapped, glaring slightly at France. The Brit did not enjoy being in France; in fact, he detested it with every fiber of his being. "Let's just get this over with."
"Is that who I think it is?" America asked, pointing to a shadowy figure approaching them. "Kinda looks like big ol' Russia."
"Oui," France responded, uneasily. "Why is he here in person? If anything, shouldn't it be his military?"
"Well, let's see then," China said, pushing past everyone. "If it really is Russia, we can capture him and interrogate him."
Russia smiled and walked up to the nations. "Ah, fancy seeing you all here, da?"
France pursed his lips in thought. "Oui, what is it that I can do for you, Russia?" France bit back the venom in his voice, settling for a slightly annoyed stare instead.
"I was just surveying the city I'm about to destroy. I like having before and after photos." Russia responded, flicking his hand outward, motioning to the city.
Francis's blue eyes widened. "I think not. I will not allow you to destroy Paris. Haven't you done enough? First Spain, then America, now Paris? Who's next?"
"Copenhagen, Denmark." Russia tilted his head at France. "Anyway, what can you all do to stop me right now? I mean, I annihilated America's military within a few hours."
"We were unprepared," America snarled. "Surprise attacks do not allow ample time to gather one's military strength together, you damned psychopath."
Russia tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose you have a point, but Spain didn't stand up to me either."
"Once again, a surprise attack." America snapped.
An innocent smile spread onto Russia's face. His violet eyes stared daggers into France and America's blue ones. "Anyway, I haven't the time to be dealing with you all. I have an attack to plan."
"I don't think so," England growled, snatching Russia by the upper arm, pulling him backward. "We have some questions for you, and you'll answer every single one, even if we have to drag them out of you by force."
SOMEWHERE DARK AND SCARY IN PARIS, FRANCE
Germany shoved Russia forcefully into a wooden chair, handcuffing the Russian's wrists to the arms of the chair. "Now, question number one, where is Spain?"
Russia looked away from Germany's assaulting blue eyes staring him down. "I don't know what you mean. Shouldn't Antonio be at his house?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Germany snarled. "Answer my damn question, or we'll resort to more…immoral methods of information gathering."
The Russian tugged lightly at his restraints. "These aren't necessary, or very friendly. I thought our nations were friends, Ludwig."
Germany growled in the back of his throat. "You're speaking nonsense. That so called 'alliance' was back before World War II. I have no political or economic ties to your pathetic excuse for a country."
"Germanyyyyy~"
Germany looked away from Russia and to the source of the noise. 'What is it, Italy?"
"Paris is under siege by the Russian military! We have to go!" Italy hopped from foot to foot, unable to contain his anxiety.
"God dammit," Germany growled, unlocking Russia's restraints and harshly jerked him up to an upright position. "Where is everyone else?"
"America is with France, Britain is arranging for us to go to London…I don't know about everyone else." Italy frowned slightly. "Romano went missing about an hour ago…I went looking for him and I couldn't find him." Italy sniffed slightly and glanced at Germany. "Ve~"
"It's all right, Italy. As soon as we get back to everyone we'll look for Romano."
The duo, plus Russia climbed the stairs from the basement level of the American embassy in Paris to the lobby level. The German scanned the lobby for someone, and caught America, sitting with France across the room. "America!" Germany called out, dragging Russia behind him as he hurried to the nation.
"Oh, Germany," America looked up from France, and pressed the cold compress onto France's feverish brow. "We need to get out of here. France isn't doing too well. The Russian's are coming at Paris full force. If we don't leave now, we'll never make it to London in one piece."
Germany nodded and yanked Russia to his side. "I propose we bring him along, I still have a lot of questions to ask him."
The blonde American nodded, and glanced at France, speaking fluent French to the woozy nation. "France, we need to go, Paris won't last much longer and we're no use to the world dead. Are you all right to move?"
France nodded weakly and smiled. "Oui, Ameriqué. I love how you're fluent in so many languages; it's very flattering you know." France responded back, speaking French to match America's use of France's native language.
"Oui, you can thank the fact that my country is a melting pot. I speak a variety of languages." America answered, smiling while easing France to his unsteady feet. "Can you walk on your own or do you need assistance?" America asked quickly, still speaking in French.
The other nation smiled. "I'm not that weak, but assistance would be greatly appreciated. Merci beaucoup, Ameriqué,"
America nodded and glanced at Germany. "Help me, would you? I just need you to get the doors."
Germany nodded, still in shock at America's fluency in another language other than Americanized English. "Ja, no problem," He said, moving towards the doors, still dragging Russia with him. "So, we're going to London?"
"That's the plan." America supported half of France's weight and maneuvered carefully towards the double doors Germany and Italy were so patiently holding open for him. "Grazie," America nodded at Italy who smiled at the use of his language, "Vielen dank," America thanked, smiling at Germany, who nodded in response.
The trio was greeted by England waiting for them by the steps of the Embassy. "Hurry, we need to get to London before a no-fly zone is established." England snapped, tapping his foot impatiently.
America rolled his eyes at the Brit, annoyance creeping onto his face. "Yes, yes, now help me already, England, France is flippin' heavy!"
Green eyes blinked and England moved to Alfred's side, gripping France's belt, causing the Frenchman to make a twisted, annoyed face at the Brit. "Le fais-tu? Je vais bien!" he swore, roughly jerking himself away from England.
"What did he say?" Arthur asked, looking expectantly at America.
Before the slightly bewildered American could answer, Francis snapped, "I said, 'the hell are you doing. I'm fine."
"Sure you are, Francis," Arthur said sarcastically. "Try walking on your own, you git. You're a mess! Look at Paris! It's in ruins,"
Francis scoffed uncharacteristically. "It doesn't matter…" the Frenchman muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. "There are other nations who need more help than I…like Antonio…" France's voice trailed off as he mentioned his best friend, a sigh escaping his lips.
Silence fell over the rag-tag group as Spain's name was mentioned. He was their next priority, but as of now, getting to safety was number one on the Allies To-Do list.
A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! Working on my letters story takes up 99.9% of my time~!
