Unprepared
 

Gilbert straightened his jacket sleeves, making sure his uniform lay as pristine as possible. He stood still and proud, like something not alive. He should have been angry. For a while, he did rage, but that didn't change any facts. After that, he despaired as he came to accept the one unavoidable truth--he was going to die.

Momentarily, he found himself distracted by thoughts of the last few nights. He'd tried to put on a brave face because no matter what, he wouldn't go down like a kicked dog. He always figured things would end in battle though. But in typical Gilbert style, once he realized this was it, he decided to have fun before he died. If he had to say good bye to his best friends, then he'd do it their way. And they sure as hell weren't going to let him die after sad or boring last hours. No, it had been a good send off. Perhaps a perfect one.

Gilbert lifted his eyes to gaze at the delegation of German officials in front of him, and there to the side, his own little brother. Ludwig wouldn't meet his gaze, but he too stood with the stiff strength of a mechanical soldier. For a second, a flash of spite went through his heart that had already come to peace with this. How dare he do this?

"....and with the signing of these papers, the Kingdom of Prussia will cede all of its separate power to Germany. In short, the kingdom is no longer..."

Gilbert closed his eyes.

Thirty seconds passed with not a beat of his heart. His lungs started to burn with the breath he held. Still he kept it in, waiting for the end. But nothing happened. Gilbert opened his eyes again, sweeping them over the room to make sure it still stood there. Why wasn't he dead? He figured this would be instantaneous. Judging by the fact that Ludwig met his eyes and just a hint of emotion shone through, he guessed his brother thought so too.

But they didn't discuss it. After their leaders signed the papers, both went home. Maybe there was a delay to this dying thing. He stared down at the charm that he hung hastily over his neck three nights before--a gift from Arthur. Not that he trusted the man's magic, but it was the last thing he could think of. If Arthur said it might save his life, then he would try it. More than likely though, Gilbert would be dead in the morning. Best not to give anyone false hope yet. Falling asleep, he resigned himself to this fate.

"Francis? Francis, despertarse, mi amigo, we're here."
Francis stirred, bleary eyed- from sleep, or from tears, he didn't know- shifting in the backseat of the automobile as Antonio laid a hand on his shoulder. He gazed out the window past the Spaniard, and found they were... at his apartment? In Paris? "I thought you were taking me to parliament, Antonio, I have to sign..." He rubbed at his eyes as an excuse not to say the obvious- he had to sign the paperwork for the dissolution of Franco-Prussian relations, permanently. The words still felt wrong on his tongue; the idea still alien. Their friendship had had its rough patches, sure- but the three of them had always worked it out in the end. It was hard to work it out with death, though.
"No, no," Antonio started, hooking an arm around Francis's shoulders and half-hauling him out of the automobile, "you're too tired for that." He began to walk them up to the front door as Francis pulled out his keys. "We both are."

Once Antonio had Francis changed and in bed- because Lord above knew he wouldn't have had the energy to do it himself that night- he returned to his driver, slipping into the backseat. "Take me home, Roberto," He sighed, leaning into the stiff leather seating and running a hand, weary, down his face. His other hand found the rosary tucked in his pocket, and he found himself muttering a prayer, hoping Gilbert was happy, wherever he was.

Gilbert blinked bleary eyes open. For almost a minute, he struggled to comprehend anything. Then it finally hit him. He woke up. Struggling to a seated position, he glanced over his room, finding it exactly as he left it the night before. "Why?" It wasn't supposed to work this way. He said good bye. He fucking sucked up his pride and let himself be held because that was the thing he most wanted right then. And he didn't even die.

Gilbert stared at the charm once more. Scheiße. What was he supposed to do? Even though morning light flooded through the windows, he just paced inside. He really should go ask someone how this shit worked, someone who'd been around longer than him.

Francis of all people jumped to mind. Gilbert ground the heel of his hand against his head. Damn it, he didn't want to ruin this. They left things as perfect as they could, promising not to cry until they parted ways because that night was for them. Could he really destroy them even more with some kind of false hope? He'd just die in an hour, or tomorrow, or who knew. No matter what happened between them before, the three stayed close. Appearing like a temporary ghost was cruel.

By noon though, Gilbert couldn't stand his anxiety. Who else was he supposed to ask? Denmark? China? God, he would rather break down and cry in front of Francis than talk to that guy right now. Finally giving up, he threw a dark colored coat over street clothes and headed out. It felt strange without any kind of military uniform, but he didn't want to attract attention on his way to Paris either.

He took the train, continuing to question his selfishness the entire way. And entire day had passed since the dissolution of his kingdom before Gilbert found himself on Francis' doorstep. He supposed, waiting longer would just be worse. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked.

Francis had neglected to do much more than change out of his pajamas that morning; the grief of losing his friend sat like a weight on his chest and, for better or for worse, he'd decided he wasn't about to fight it today. He'd phoned his boss and told him he'd be out, and, thankfully, Clemenceau had understood. Francis had been planning on spending most of the day moping and reminiscing over old portraits and grainy photos when there was a knock at his front door.
"Oui?" He called down the stairs. "Qu'est-ce?" He headed down, socked feet padding against the polished wood until he was far enough that he could see through the french doors-
Gilbert.
Prussia.
He wasn't sure how long he stood at the bottom of the stairs, gaping, confused, heart pounding against his ribcage like a drum, but as soon as he could bring his legs to move again he bolted down the hallway and threw open the doors.
Part of him wanted to shout; to throw his arms around his friend and kiss his cheeks and bring him wine and do what they did with Antonio the night before, and another part of him wanted to cross his arms and demand an explanation, how dare you toy with me like this-
But he settled for just reaching out and running his thumb along the sharp line of Gilbert's cheekbone. To make sure he was real.

Gilbert pulled on his sleeves, trying to stop himself from bolting before Francis opened the door. It was taking too long. He almost turned and walked away when it flung open, leaving him jumping a little. They met eyes and Gilbert realized he never prepared a single thing to say and at the moment, nothing came to mind. Francis never said anything either though and just touched him like the ghost he must have looked like. Gilbert flinched at the tenderness. Memories of the night before clouded his mind--warm touches, flashes of golden hair or tanned skin.

Trying hard not to break down, he just stood there. "I'm sorry. I'm being selfish again..."

"No, no-" Francis shook his head, hand moving to Gilbert's shoulder. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say- he wasn't sure if there was anything to say. When they had said their goodbyes that was the last time he ever expected to see Gilbert again (in the wee hours of the morning with his head on that pale chest-) and he hadn't planned for this-!
"Come in, Gilbert, and we can- we can talk." He said, finally, holding the door open.

Not knowing what else to do, Gilbert followed Francis inside. He gravitated toward the first cushioned place to sit and dropped down, looking around the room very much at a lose. "I don't know what to say..." he managed to croak. Great, now he might actually cry just because he was having a conversation with Francis. He ran a hand over his face. "Shouldn't I be dead? I've never actually seen a country die before, I just figured and you guys never said I was wrong. Haven't you seen a country die before?" France wasn't that much older than Prussia, but god, what was he supposed to do?

Francis swung by the kitchen as Gilbert made his way into the den, grabbing the half-empty bottle of red wine that was resting on the counter and two wine glasses from the cupboard. Gilbert certainly looked like he needed it, and Francis wasn't entirely sure he could handle this conversation entirely sober.
He sat down on the couch beside him, uncorking the bottle and pouring them each a glass as Gilbert began to ramble. "Oui, when I was very small." He nodded, handing the Prussian his glass. "I was still Gaul, then, and the Roman Empire had claimed my territory some five hundred years earlier. As the Empire split I... I watched him fade, Gilbert. Skin, then muscle, then bone, like he had been blown away in the wind." He explained. "Mon ami, you should be gone."

Gilbert took the wine and stared at it for a second before gulping down half the glass in one go. It could have been sewer water for all he cared at this point. He just needed to drink something. Setting the glass down again, he looked at Francis in silent thanks. "...I see..." He turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. Once upon a time, he and Holy Roman Empire were close, but the boy vanished in his last days, apparently wanting to die in solitude. Gilbert always wondered over that scene he never saw.

"So I should be dead. Maybe...the paperwork hasn't gone through yet?" He just couldn't bring himself to fully embrace the idea that he might live. Because it really didn't make sense. "Why? Why is any of this happening?" He didn't even know why his brother turned against him int he first place.

"I- I don't know," Francis sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "You should have gone once the paper was signed. Did you change anything? Was the agreement altered?" He asked, searching desperately for an explanation. He was grateful to see his friend again- so unspeakable grateful- but the idea that Gilbert could show up at his door and die right here in his foyer was too much to bear, and he hoped beyond hope that something really had changed. Maybe the rules were different, now; it had been a millennium and a half since he had witnessed a dissolution. Perhaps the universe had finally decided to go easy on their kind. He took a long sip of his wine before refilling his glass to the brim and pouring Gilbert a new one.

After another gulp of wine, Gilbert shook his head. "My kingdom is dissolved." He swallowed hard and had to squeeze his eyes shut. A few seconds passed, not even breathing, before he dragged in a shaking breath. "I can feel it already. Just...emptiness. It's all gone and even my people, I feel them fading into Germany with each passing minute." His fingers nearly snapped the wine glass's steam and he quickly set it down again. "Maybe...I'll just fade too..." he whispered as he met Francis' eye for the first time since they stepped inside. He didn't want that, especially now that he sat next to a friend. It took everything Gilbert had not to just fling himself into the other man's arms.

"Oh, Gilbert," Francis set down his glass. He had been overrun before; he'd felt his people change their allegiances, but never had he felt alone. Not the way Gilbert felt now. "Ami, we will figure this out, alright?" He said, wrapping his arms around the Prussian and pulling him into an embrace- although a voice in the back of his head reminded him he's a German, now. "You must be here for a reason, non? And no matter what happens, I'm not going to leave."

"Thanks." Gilbert let himself fall against Francis and just lay there for a minute. He wanted to believe his friend, but he always had a fatalistic streak. At the moment, it didn't fell like anything would be alright ever again. What sort of reason could there be for this? A way to somehow make this better? He snorted and pulled away, rubbing his nose which started to run. "Can I stay here tonight? I...really don't feel like going home right now." Hell, he didn't even know if he could call that place home anymore.

Francis nodded. "Of course, of course," He reached for his glass, but paused as his hand met the stem. "Do you want to tell anyone else? Antonio could be here by tomorrow." He offered. If Gilbert wasn't going to be around for much longer, he might want to spend some time with both of his closest friends- assuming, of course, that he would be here even that long. Anxiety knotted in Francis's gut; it was rare a nation, especially a nation as old as he, had to deal with a unique situation. Gilbert should have been dead; lost to the wind and the annals of time, not sitting on his couch holding back tears. Francis wanted to be relieved to see him, he did, but the deep-set feeling of dread had wrapped coils around his heart.

Biting his lip, Gilbert shook his head. "Can you not tell him?" he asked. As much as he wanted to be with Antonio, he felt he should deny himself that selfishness. "Just in case..." Another hard swallow. "Let him have our good memories from before." It was bad enough that Gilbert might force Francis to watch him die. He could at least save one of his friends from it. Although he couldn't be sure that Francis would listen to him, or if he even should follow that request, it made him feel better to utter it. That way, at least he tried.

Gilbert reached for his wine glass again and finished it off before falling back against the couch. "I don't want to sleep though..."

Francis wasn't fond of how 'selfless' Gilbert was acting- he was usually the last to be pessimistic, and the idea that he was 'saving Antonio' by leaving him in the dark didn't quite sit right with Francis. He wasn't about to start an argument, though, and resolved to calling Madrid when Gilbert had fallen asleep. "I can make us some coffee, if you like?" He suggested. "If you're worried about something... happening, while you're asleep, I will stay with you." He said, offering a warm smile.

Gilbert nodded. As alone as he felt now, having Francis nearby eased him so much. "Alright, and coffee sounds great..." He would need it considering just how tired he felt right now. But sleeping would be bad, even with Francis watching over him. He didn't have much time left probably and he didn't want to miss any of it. Just maybe he would close his eyes for a second. "You're a really good friend, you know," Gilbert muttered as he settled back against the couch, moving so his face pillowed against the back cushions.

Francis chuckled. "I try my best, mon ami." He said, grabbing both of their wine glasses and the bottle and heading back to the kitchen.
He left the teapot on the stove to boil as he washed the glasses and replaced them in the cabinet. Had he been entertaining guests on any other night, he'd have kept up conversation, perhaps turned on the radio- but Gilbert needed his sleep, and he seemed about ready to pass out from exhaustion. Francis doubted he'd slept at all on the drive over, and no matter what was going to happen tonight, going without any rest would only make it worse.
When Gilbert had first shown up at his door, he'd been terrified that his friend would begin to slip away before his eyes; that his skin would peel back like old paper and his bones would turn to dust on his sofa- but the longer he sat there, tired and anxious, the more comfortable Francis was. He'd survived for a day- a day longer than he should have!- and the tiny part of Francis that refused to accept that Prussia would die was growing larger. Something had changed, he knew it.
The whistling of the teapot drew him from his reverie, and he made quick work of the coffee, steeping it and draining it into two mugs. Cream and sugar for himself, and black with enough sugar to kill a man for Gilbert. He brought them out into the living room, carefully setting them on the table.

Once alone in the silence, Gilbert found the tiredness he'd been ignoring to be very pressing and real. He slid down further until he lay on the couch and thanked the fact that everything in Francis' home was so damn luxurious. This couch was like heaven. Still, he didn't dare fall asleep. Only when he heard Francis reenter the room did he breathe out a long sigh. Francis did say he'd watch over him right? After meeting his eyes in a silent good night, Gilbert closed his again and let the sleep take him. Maybe this time too, he'd also wake up?

Francis perched himself on the arm of the sofa, waiting for sleep to take his friend. It wasn't long before his breathing evened out and his eyes began to twitch behind his eyelids, and Francis knew he was safe to leave the room- the phone was on the desk in his office, two doors down the closest hallway. "Sleep well, Prusse," he whispered, plucking his coffee from the table and hurrying to his study.
He could only hope that Antonio would be awake- the clock read almost midnight, and the past few days had been so straining he wasn't sure if the Spaniard would bother staying awake much past sunset- but, to his relief, a voice picked up on the other end.
"Hola, habla nación de Espa-"
"Antonio, it's Francis."
"Oh- are you doing okay? You sound tense."
"Gilbert showed up at my door an hour and a half ago."
There was a long pause, and then a sigh.
"Mi amigo, I miss him, too, but you have to let him g-"
"No, no, Antonio, you're not listening- he's not dead. I don't know if it was Germany's assurance of Prussian statehood or things have just... changed, but, mon dieu he's alive and asleep on the couch in my foyer." Francis kept his voice a low, strained whisper, to avoid waking Gilbert in the next room- provided he was still there. The Frenchman tried not to dwell on it.
There was another long pause, before Antonio muttered a "Dios mío",promised to be over by noon the next day, and hung up.
Francis slunk back to the foyer, treading lightly, pulling two blankets out of the nearby linen closet. He carefully draped the first over Gilbert's sleeping form, then wrapped himself up in the other- he might have called Antonio against his friend's wishes, but he wasn't about to break this promise, too. He curled himself up on the floor beneath the sofa, head resting on a throwpillow, and fell asleep.

Arthur moped at his desk, unable to ignore his growing headache. The world was such a mess right now. Maybe he should have stayed out of it, but Gilbert actually came and asked him for help. Arthur could at least say he tried. This wasn't his fault. Just as he resigned himself to the paperwork again, he knocked a stack off his desk. Arthur cursed and reached down to gather them again when something caught his eye. A cold dread started as his hand closed around the small object.

This...this was the charm he gave Gilbert. Or the one he should have given Gilbert. Then, just what did Gilbert have...had? Arthur couldn't have possibly....

"Oh shit."

~~

Gilbert groaned in a half-awake, half-asleep state. He wasn't sure of the time, but he guessed later in the morning. Huh. His body ached and his head hurt no doubt from the emotions of the last few days which seemed to imply he was still here. He turned his head and caught sight of Francis sleeping on the floor. Wrapping himself up in the blanket he kicked off during the night, Gilbert slipped down onto the floor next to his friend. Staring off into space, he just played with a few strands of Francis' hair. He supposed he should start trusting this all.

Was someone... playing with his hair? Francis slowly cracked an eye open to find Gilbert twining his fingers through it, looking half awake and entirely distracted. "Something on your mind, ami?" He mumbled, tired smile on his face. He sat up with a yawn, wincing when his shoulder popped. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," Gilbert answered, still feeling too distracted to offer any proper answer. What he was waiting for was an explanation. When he realized he still played with Francis' hair, he stopped and turned away, trying to arrange some sort of scowl on his face. "I'm not thinking about anything. You know, aside from the obvious." He rolled his eyes, but just the simple fact that he could do that showed he felt better. He had some time to think about things before Francis' woke and despite himself, he felt almost halfway at ease.

Francis chuckled; it was nice to see Gilbert acting like himself again. "I'll leave you to it, then." He said, standing and stretching- he was getting far too old for this slumber party nonsense. He reminded himself to pick up an spare mattress; maybe then his back wouldn't feel like it was hit by a train. "I'm going to whip up some breakfast; do you want anything?" He asked, making his way to the kitchen- or he would have, anyway, if the doorbell hadn't sounded down the hallway.
He paused. He'd called Antonio last night, hadn't he? He'd called Antonio and he'd said he would be there by noon. Francis spared a glance at the clock on the wall- eleven thirty. Merde.
He cleared his throat, calling out, "It's unlocked!"

Antonio held his passport in his teeth and a suitcase in each hand (having opened the door with his elbow instead of putting anything down) as he entered. Francis had sounded upbeat, that was good- but he was still so nervous his hands were shaking. How was Gilbert? He hadn't gotten any telegrams from Madrid about Francis calling again, and Gilbert's car was in the drive- but what if he had died before Antonio got there? What if he had missed him by an hour? As he rounded the corner into Francis's foyer he had worked himself into a frenzy-
But there Gilbert was, sitting at the foot of a couch, wrapped in a blanket, like the dozens of times they'd come home from a night on the town and passed out around this apartment. He found himself smiling so hard he'd probably have to buy a new jacket for his passport before he left for home- if he ever left, now. He couldn't imagine wanting to.

The second Francis mentioned food, Gilbert's stomach let out a roar. Considering he barely ate anything since the meeting about his dissolution, he couldn't believe he never realized how hungry he was until now. "Hell yeah. Mein gott, anything...everything. Something with eggs?" he started and just got to his feet when the door rang. Gilbert froze, giving Francis a little look as if to ask just who he expected on the other side.

Gilbert got his answer soon enough. "Toni?!" Antonio walked in with bags and passport like he knew exactly what he would find. And what was with that retarded grin?! It made something in Gilbert go flip flop until he turned dizzy from it. He never thought he'd see that smile again, or taste Francis' cooking which no man should ever take for granted. Still, Gilbert couldn't help but feel a bit miffed. He glared at Francis' back, despite his own happiness. "You said you wouldn't call him!"