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Last part~ Hope you like it! Oh, and btw. I'm not a doctor or anything, but I hope I didn't mess up completely with this… Please bear with me if there are some mistakes or something… ^_^'
Disclaimer: I still do not own Hetalia – Axis Powers or any of its characters.
Arthur felt as though his heart had stopped beating, all colour draining from his face as he darted forward to the boy lying on the floor a few feet from the bed, his skin a shade of stark white, and his lips having a slightly bluish tint as he rasped for breath, unable to take in enough air.
"Alfred! Oh God…" the boy's skin was clammy and even warmer than before, his chest heaving as he gave a choked whimper, eyes rolling unfocusedly. He vaguely remembered reading about seizures that sometimes occurred if children were sick, but that didn't really help him at the moment. He only realized he was panicking when Francis's hand connected with his cheek harshly.
"Arthur, calm down! Come on, we must get him to the hospital!" the Frenchman said urgently, for once being the responsible and clear-minded one. Arthur nodded shakily, collecting the small, trembling form in his arms and moving as fast as he dared out of the room.
"I'll drive," Francis said as Arthur threw a rain coat around the limp boy in his arms in order to protect him from the rain that still fell heavily from the dark sky. As Francis drove at a near mad speed towards the hospital, Arthur tried frantically to remember what he'd read about seizures. It was useless, however, and he could only hold the boy gently in his arms, murmuring soothing words and feeling absolutely, completely and utterly helpless.
"He's not getting better?" Francis asked, not daring to look away from the road, thankfully deserted at this time of the evening. Arthur shook his head numbly, but realized Francis didn't see it.
"No…" he managed, voice thick with emotion. Francis nodded, still focused on driving remotely safe, despite the reckless speed.
"Almost there," he said after a while, taking a sharp right turn that had the wheels giving a screech of complaint.
"Hang in there, Alfred, you'll get help soon," Arthur whispered. Alfred only gasped weakly in response, clutching the Englishman's shirt in his small fist. The Englishman hadn't taken the time to put on any more clothes, and didn't care that the ones he wore looked crumpled and very… indecent – a word not usually used to describe Arthur Kirkland.
Finally they reached the hospital, and darted out of the vehicle, heading towards the emergency entrance in a hurry. It felt as though Arthur's mind went into a state of shock, as doctors took the boy from his hands and rolling him on a stretcher out of sight. He didn't notice the tears rolling down his cheeks, nor the words of the Frenchman standing beside him.
The only thing he noticed was Alfred disappearing through a pair of doors, before feeling his energy suddenly giving away. He didn't even hear Francis' startled cry as he collapsed to the hospital floor, unconscious before he could feel the impact.
His eyes shot open the moment he woke up and he blinked, staring up into a white, neutral roof. Where was he? What was going on? For a moment, confusion clouded his mind, but then everything seemed to get back to him.
"Alfred!" he gasped, sitting up abruptly, giving a moan as his head swam with the sudden movement.
"Arthur!" he didn't have time to react before he felt someone embracing him, strong arms holding him tightly for a moment before releasing him. Francis didn't seem to care about the awkwardness of the movement, only smiled, visibly relieved.
"F-Francis…? Where's Alfred? Is he all right?" The Frenchman only held a hand before his eyes, possibly to hide the tears he tried to prevent from falling as he pointed over to another bed in the room.
Arthur didn't hesitate for long, jumping from the bed and rushing over to the other, where Alfred was lying. The child was still pale, but not nearly as bad as before, his cheeks flushed and his breathing thankfully even.
"Thank God…" Arthur whispered, pulling a chair over and sitting numbly next to the bed, holding Alfred's small hand in his own.
"You scared me, Mon cher Arthur…" Francis stood beside him. "Passing out like that… The doctor said you have been pushing yourself too hard, not getting enough rest, which, added to the stress, caused you to faint."
"I'm sorry…" Arthur murmured. He hated making people worry, even if it was Francis. "What did he say about Alfred? Will he be ok?"
"There you go again, always thinking about others…" Francis didn't get to say anything else, before the door opened and a tall man clad in a white coat came inside, closing the door behind him.
"Ah, I see you are awake, Mr. Kirkland," he said, giving a smile as he came over, holding out his hand. "I'm Dr. Summer." Arthur stood and shook his hand.
"H-how is he?" he asked yet again, hoping that this time he'd get some answers.
"I'm happy to say that he'll be quite all right. It seems your son caught a bad cold, but developed a fever that's a bit above average for children his age. The fever caused him to have something called a Febrile Seizure." At Arthur's concerned and confused expression, the doctor smiled mildly.
"It's a convulsion that's caused by a sudden spike in body temperature – in this case the cold he caught. They might seem very bad, but this type of seizure is rarely as dangerous as it may seem. Some children have worse seizures than others, and it seems young Alfred is one of those children. You did right in bringing him here quickly, even if it passed on its own after a while."
Arthur sat down shakily, his mind taking in the information as he looked at the sleeping boy, looking fairly peaceful now.
"So… he'll be all right?"
"Yes. His fever is already going down, and he should feel better with a few more days of bed rest and plenty of liquid."
"I see…" The Englishman felt numb, his racing heart slowly calming down again.
"I'd like to keep him here until he wakes up, but I don't think there will be any problem with taking him home afterwards." Dr. Summer smiled again, excused himself and left the room.
"Your kid is one strong boy," Francis smiled, sitting down at the foot of the bed, refraining from commenting on the tears of relief that made their way down the Englishman's face.
"Yes..." Arthur managed to say, giving a sound that sounded like a mix of a chuckle and a sob. "He sure is." And his eyes rested on Alfred's face, filled with warmth.
"Papa, I'm fine, can't I please go outside to play? Please?" Alfred looked up at Arthur with wide blue eyes, practically begging. The Englishman shook his head firmly.
"No. You're not going outside until you're completely healthy again, and that's final."
The boy pouted with a small moan. His face had regained most of its colour, and the fever had dropped considerably, only visible in the slight pink tint of his cheeks. It had been two days since the trip to the hospital, and the boy was pretty much back to his cheerful, loud and carefree self. It was needless to say that he had major troubles staying calmly in bed.
"But it's so boring…" he complained. Arthur couldn't help but smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out and ruffling the boy's hair.
"I know. If you stay put and if you feel better in the morning, I might just let you go out for a while. But only if you behave yourself." Alfred's eyes widened excitedly and he pointedly leant back against the pillows, probably thinking about the crisp autumn air and the outdoor activities he'd been deprived of lately.
The room fell into a comfortable silence for a while, before Alfred shifted slightly, looking up at Arthur.
"Um…" he fell silent, seemingly contemplating if he should say what he wanted or not.
"Is it… is it okay if I call you p-papa?" the boy blurted out suddenly, blushing slightly. Arthur blinked in wonder. It had been a surprise when the boy first called him that. Still, it felt right, and made his heart give a little leap of happiness every time the word was uttered.
He smiled softly and leant over, kissing the boy's forehead as he'd done earlier.
"If you want me to be your papa, then I'll be very happy," he said and Alfred grinned up at him. Holding up his hands, Arthur complied, pulling him onto his lap as he settled more comfortably against the head of the bed.
"Papa, can you sing that song again?" the boy asked leaning his head against the man's chest, relaxing.
"What happened to you saying I'm not a good singer?" Arthur asked, chuckling quietly.
"You're not really that bad… Even if your stories are much better!" Alfred hurried to add in after the confession.
"You like that song?"
And Arthur closed his eyes, singing the gentle melody as he heard Alfred give a content sigh, resting comfortably in his arms as the sun moved down outside the window, enveloping the two with a warm, comforting autumn light.
Finished~ I really hope you enjoyed my little story, and that you can take the time to leave a review, telling me what you thought of it! That would mean so much to me! ^^ Thank you so much for reading~
Mon cher – my dear