For LifesATease. The first to request on my forum and the person I must thank for giving me the opportunity to write this story.

Rated M for mild violence, highly coarse and offensive language, sexual implications and suggestion of rape, sexual scene and high YAOI alert. Also as I have been told to warn those who I believe might not possibly give a damn, there is Mpreg with a possibility out of two fathers.

WARNING: Near death situation for our beloved HERO, the defaming of our favorite Letcher behind Prussia and Spain (Don't worry, I love France too… Just not today) and the placing into horrid situations of our favorite fail-wizard/cook-tea-drinking-good-old-English-bastard.

Human names used so I thought I'd give you a guide because a surprising amount of people get a little befuddled.

England ~ Arthur Kirkland

America ~ Alfred F. Jones

France ~ Francis Bonnefroy

Canada ~ Mathew Williams

Prussia ~ Gilbert Weilderschmidt (Though others say Weilschmidt or Beilschmidt.)

Germany ~ Ludwig Weilderschmidt (" ")

Italy ~ Feliciano Vargas

Romano ~ Lovino Vargas

Spain ~ Antonio Carreido… ((?Spelling?))

Japan ~ Kiku Honda

Greece~ Heracles Karpusi

China ~ Yao Wang

Russia ~ Ivan Braginsky

Not all of these shall appear but they will be mentioned and I'm unsure as if there are more as of yet.

Pairings suggested or shown in this fiction are US/UK, Canada/Prussia, Germany/Italy, Romano/Spain, Japan/Greece, Russia/China and UK/France (via rape).

On a final note, the entire plotline has been thought up. It is original and if it resembles anything you may have watched or read before then I sincerely apologize for I guarantee that this is authentically from the refined space of my cranium, typed word by word on an ex-government computer by an egotistical teenager, who by the way cannot find the means of ceasing her frozen fingers from typing this irritatingly long sentence and message which I'm all sure that you're quite sick of reading and are sending angry mind beams into your computers in the hopes of killing the writer so you may read what has been unforgivably thought up and produced to scalp your retinas wi…

NOTE: The writer was brutally stabbed to death by an angry pickled herring that was painted green and nailed to a wall. To make a point it didn't whistle for it would have been quite confusing if it did. Fortunately her constant supply of constantly updated clones was close at hand, so be thankful that she recently uploaded all her brain files into her clones to bring this story to you today. I DO NOT APROVE OF PLAGIRISM~! However I do quote~

Mirror Mask (Movie)

Sphinx: What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the day and three in the afternoon?

Helena: …Uh, Tom, he's a performing dog.

Sphinx: No… Wrong~! The answer is, MAN~! –Licks his lips hungrily-

Helena: But it is right. He walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the midday show and three that evening because he hurt his paw… AH! And he can skate board too~

Sphinx: … oh… hmmm…

Helena: Right, My turn… What's green…? Hangs on a wall and whistles~?

Sphinx: …Oh... alright… Hm…

Helena: Give up?

Sphinx: No! … Oh… alright… go on, tell me~

Helena: A Herring.

Sphinx: But a herring isn't green.

Helena: You can paint it green.

Sphinx: But a herring doesn't hang on a wall.

Helena: You can nail it to a wall.

Sphinx: But a herring doesn't whistle!

Helena: No… I just put that in to make it less obvious.

-Helena leaves and Valentine enters-

Sphinx: You there~! Tell me a riddle or I'll eat you~

Valentine: Ah~! … Oh, um… When you don't share it you've got it, when you share it you haven't got it…

Sphinx: Oh… uh, hmmm…

Valentine: Oh give up already. I haven't got all day~!

Sphinx: Oh all right… What is it~?

Valentine: It's a secret.

Sphinx: Oh go on… tell me~ I won't tell anyone else~

Valentine: IT'S A SECRET!

Sphinx: Fine then… but you must tell me another riddle.

Valentine: LOOK, AN IDIOT~! –Points-

Sphinx: Where~!

-Valentine exits and the sphinx left hungry-

Though it may not seem like it, this script has a lot to do with the story. To take things into your own hands and work your way through or around obstacles. It's all about the wits.

I apologize if you are one of those people who read the author's comments before the story for I must have obviously befuddled you. To make up for this atrocious act I shall actually get on with the story.`~`


Arthur Kirkland's stomach ached horribly. Which probably wasn't a good thing considering that he was the one driving for once. Sitting beside him sat Alfred F. Jones. The American was venting furiously at him. A dark heinous scowl across his face instead of the warming Hero's smile that Arthur wished to see as a form of comfort in place of something that broke his heart.

The reason for the enraged atmosphere that surrounded the two nations was none other than the all too unwelcome Francis Bonnefroy.

From Alfred's point of view, he'd walked in on the Englishman cheating on him with a vile toad not worthy to be called a frog any more. 'Toad' being the least vile name for Francis that Alfred had on his mind at that moment.

Arthur's point of view was that he had been raped, to put it bluntly. He'd been tidying up the conference room as most of the nations bid farewell to each other and left in the car park of the grand hotel that had been bought out for the past week for them. Arthur and Alfred had had no reason for it as it was close to a city flat in Washington DC that the two blondes had bought together six months after they first made themselves official to the rest of the nations. It had been exactly three years since then… Their 3rd anniversary as it were. Everyone knew that they had had plans after they left the hotel. Especially Francis as he took it upon himself to pry into the private lives of those who sought to keep him out.

Did he find it ironic…? To misuse Arthur in such a way on the 4th anniversary of the day the Englishman had rejected another, more serious proposal from the Frenchman and made the choice to leave him for good.

Who knew? No one wanted to get inside the Frenchman's head. It was enough to scare even Ivan… no… someone not scared easily is petrified by what could be discovered within that man's mind. Natalia, who was the terror for the largest and most intimidating of nations, even found herself fleeing from whatever lurked in Francis' mind. No weapon could surpass the hidden content. Not Busby's chair. Not Ivan's faucet and most definitely not Alfred's acclaimed super hero powers that according to him, when on a lighter mood, were in hibernation due to lack of hamburgers, though what lack of that be there as he seems to have a constant stash hidden in an invisible air pocket just above his head, leaning slightly to the left.

But this story is only partly about Francis. I could not show you the turmoil he puts Arthur and Alfred through if I were to dwell on the contents of his mind for the whole four chapters of this collection of dull yet meaningful words. And I assure you that I would be quite capable of doing so. Now if you please brain, I would like to continue telling these wonderful people far and wide of the cranium flatulency within you…

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose as he came to a stop at a red light, the bright angry color not helping his mood or oncoming headache. Tears gathered at the edges of his eyes as he remained silent throughout Alfred's hurtful words. Maybe silence wasn't the best thing. If he didn't say something then he may lose Alfred.

"… Alfred, please just listen to me. I need to explain to you." Arthur swallowed hard and the first few tumultuous tears ran down his face, soon to be followed by many hours and days and months of oceans.

Alfred himself had helped Arthur away from Francis. He'd played the hero as always in any horrible situation, only seeking to help everyone. He knew for a fact that Arthur had been misused, his body ravaged by a man that he knew Arthur now despised more than anything. But he'd still been given reasons to display his anger and frustration as he did.

From what he'd seen, Arthur had put not one ounce of struggle up against Francis. Ecstasy had been written across his agonized features as the Frenchman held him against the wall. Alfred had felt his heart shatter a thousand times, and at present times he would not have been capable of picking up one tiny shard for his anger may crush it to dust. He'd been turning to leave the conference building, heartbroken when one small gesture and a cracked voice screamed out for his help. Turning around he'd seen Arthur reach out towards him. With a hero's heart that he sometimes doubted, he could not ignore a plea for help, even if it broke his heart beyond repair.

Alfred had pulled Francis off of Arthur and knocked him out accidentally as the Frenchman's head connected with the side of the conference table. He stood by as Arthur dressed slowly, shaking and looking away with shame filled eyes.

When the car stopped, Arthur reached out with a hand to his angered lover, but Alfred recoiled, shifting back into his door to avoid any contact with Arthur.

"Alfred, PLEASE!" Arthur's voiced strained and cracked.

"NO! I won't listen to you! I don't want to! I won't touch you! I never want to touch you again!" More tears joined the first down Arthur's cheeks and the green light returned, the car moved forward again and the Englishman turned his attention back to the road.

But Alfred's next words hurt him the most as well as bringing forth his own bristling anger which was usually the first to be unleashed.

"You're nothing but a common WHORE!"

Arthur slammed the breaks down and the car came skidding to halt. The Englishman was glad that there were no other cars around for the simple fact that it was late night and that all sensible people were tucked up in bed.

"Get out." Arthur was morbid for his first few words that which tasted stale and bitter in his mouth as he did not wish to say them.

"…Arthur… No. I'm no-"

Arthur should have listened to the rest. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"GET OUT NOW ALFRED! I'VE HAD ENOUGH! I WON'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" Arthur pressed his forehead to the steering wheel after he screamed these words at the shocked American. Tears poured like torrential rains down his face.

Alfred glared and got out of the car. "I wouldn't want to ride with a whore anyway!" He said just before he slammed the car door.

Arthur sat up and put his foot down on the gas so that the car accelerated. At the end of the street just before he turned to drive the next five blocks to their apartment, he heard Alfred shout out that word one more time. He scowled and sped up.

Alfred was out of sight and he was soon at home. Once inside the apartment, he slammed the door shut behind him and half bolted to the bathroom where he turned the water on in the shower to scalding and tore his clothing off so that tattered shreds littered the ground outside of the shower.

Under the scorching water that was so hot that it seemed frozen at the same time, Arthur clawed at his skin. He wanted Francis off of him.

I never want to touch you again!

"… Alfred…" He gave up scrubbing his body and curled up on the tiles under the water until it ran cold and he was shivering violently. He reached up and turned the water off, bracing himself against the wall as he raised himself onto shaky feet.

He pulled the soft white towel over and dried himself. The clock on the bathroom wall told him that he had been in the shower for well over an hour. It couldn't take longer than an hour for Alfred to walk five blocks. And he couldn't have gone anywhere else. His wallet was still in the car and they didn't live close to any other nations. He had no where else to go. Even if it was to just pack his things in a suitcase before leaving or to kick Arthur out.

But when the Englishman wandered out with a towel carelessly draped over his head and a pair of loose sweat pants on that he would sleep in… Alfred wasn't there. He wasn't on the couch in the lounge room, or in the kitchen and Arthur didn't expect to find him in their bedroom and so was not surprised to find that he wasn't there.

Maybe he'd gone for a longer walk to clear his head or had some spare change weighted in his pocket and so he may have gone out for a drink… or caught a cab to someplace.

But Arthur knew Alfred. No matter the severity of their arguments, Alfred would always return to make his point calmly, hear Arthur out, or make peace between them.

Arthur sat on the end of their bed and finished drying his hair with the towel. When it was damp he disregarded his usual habits, taking up Alfred's in a moment of remorse. The towel fell to the floor in a crumpled heap and for the sake of old die hard habits, he clasped his hands together loosely and closed his eyes.

"… God… please keep him safe… I haven't prayed in many years and at the moment… I'm not sure you even exist any more… I… I just have a really bad feeling… Please keep Alfred safe… In your books our consummation is probably considered unholy… rotten… but… if I have to leave him… to keep him safe… then I will… If you do exist then I can only thank you for bringing him to me… but if not… well… um, yeah… just… j-just wanted to ask that…" He opened his eyes and his hands fell apart, leaving his prayer unfinished and lingering in the air. At that moment… for him… how could the creator of the heavens and the earth exist? Why would he just let him be raped by one he had once called brother and friend.

He curled up in the middle of the bed and blushed deep red as he remembered what had occurred between them after Alfred had woke extra early that morning to beat him to the kitchen and Arthur had woken up to a fresh steaming omelet in bed. He'd devoured it hungrily and as soon as he put the fork and knife down, Alfred had moved over him, pressing him back into the bed. He'd whispered sweet things into his ear. Shared brief promises and plans for the future that had sent shivers down his spine as he prepared him. He touched him in such a tender way that there was no other thing apart from his blue eyed blonde haired American that controlled his body with his own.

Oh God! He needed him now as he saw the still stained sheets that he had had no time to clean as they'd rushed off to the meeting half dressed and still half entangled with each other.

The tears returned to him as he waited to hear the front door squeak open as Alfred walked in.

He waited for warm comforting arms to wrap around him, Alfred's body pressing close to his.

But nothing happened for the three hours that Arthur waited and eventually he drifted off to a fitful and unfulfilled sleep. The way he always slept before he had been with Alfred. It was the way he had slept when he shared a bed with Francis.


He opened his eyes slowly, blinking four or five times as he let his mind and senses wake up with the rest of his body. His cheeks were stiff from the dried tears that had fallen in his broken sleep.

His bed was empty apart from him. He sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Alfred had his reasons to sleep on the couch. Arthur stretched and yawned, feeling a trail of pops run up his spine as he twisted around to crack it.

He stood up listlessly and dragged his feet to the lounge room. The tension would still be there between them, but after been given the chance to rest their minds would be clearer.

The previous night, Arthur had only wanted to express his own distraught at what had happened. But now he wanted nothing more than to hear Alfred out. Among his own turmoil he could see Alfred's.

Solemn, he stood still in the archway to the lounge room, his right hand resting lightly on the frame so he could support himself. He stared at the back of the couch and bit his lower lip before whispering.

"… Alfred…?" He breathed out shakily and raised his voice a bit. Alfred was a deep sleeper but woke easily to his name. "Alfred…?" He walked forward and looked over the edge of the couch at the sleeping American.

The couch was empty. No sign of being disturbed from someone sleeping on it. Arthur sighed. Had Alfred just left…? Without a single word whether of farewell or even contempt which would have been more welcome than no goodbye at all.

He forced himself not to cry and wandered into the kitchen where he made himself some tea. He frowned as he sipped it and forced himself to swallow it. It tasted horrible. After three years of eating Alfred's cooking, yes, he was surprised as well to find that he didn't eat take out as much as everyone thought, he had come to realize that when everyone said his cooking was horrible, they were right. He had developed functioning taste buds. ((Because the author of this story has the power to do that. SHE IS MINI-GOD!))

He tipped the black potion of death down the sink and washed out the cup. He wandered over to the fridge and collected leftover pizza onto a plate, putting it into the microwave for twenty minutes to heat up. So unlike him to do such a thing and for BREAKFAST!

As he waited for his 'breakfast' to heat up, he picked up the remote to the small kitchen television and turned it onto the early morning news. There was a report on major flooding and disaster in southern France.

Arthur frowned and smiled. Though he did feel sorry for the innocent citizens affected by the disaster, he hoped that this caused as much trouble as it could for Francis.

The news anchor finished with that report and moved onto the next. It appeared that Greece was having money trouble. Billions in debt to the surrounding European countries that now had enough and politicians were causing trouble. It had been a while since Arthur had last spoke with Heracles Karpusi and despite the predicament that the Englishman was in now, Heracles problems were much more serious and he decided that he would visit the Greek and discuss something that he could do to help. He was sure that Kiku would already be helping the Latin out but the more help he got the better.

There was something else about the ash cloud finally receding from northern Europe, leaving it free for planes to come in and out once more.

The final report was a local one and seemed to only have been a scoop from a couple of hours ago as the scripting for the news anchor was rushed and unprepared.

It was a report local to the area Arthur and Alfred lived in which immediately caught the Englishman's attention. Something about a car crash.

A distressed woman with dark brown hair holding a baby to her shoulder came onto the screen.

"I was coming home late from work from the hospital and had just picked my son here up from his babysitter's house. I was walking home with him in the pram because I live close to the hospital and the girl who baby sits him for me. A man approached me and drew out a knife and told me to give him all my valuables.

Then this other man from across the street saw what was going on and rushed over. He told the other man to leave. That it wasn't a good life to leech off of the defenseless. To my surprise, the man sighed and lowered his knife and walked off. I was about to thank this other man when there was a loud skidding noise and a flash of light. A car was going to crash right into us side on.

To save me and my son from a robber wasn't enough, he pushed me out of the way and didn't bother moving from the path of the oncoming car.

To my horror, he stood there like he'd accepted it, even wished for it and the car slammed into him, crushing him against the wall of an apartment block. I-I… I just couldn't… I just didn't…"

The woman was lost for words and the emotionless news anchor replaced her crying image.

"Miraculously, this strange and unexpected hero survived this incident. He was taken immediately to hospital and is being treated as we speak. The driver was also hospitalized but his wife died on impact with the brick wall. DNA tests have been taken of this mysterious hero and results show that he is a close co-worker with president Obama. Files show that he is Alfred F. Jones in his early twenties and surprisingly young for a politician for the United Nations…"

Arthur didn't hear whatever else the news anchor said. Alfred's named rang in his ears and echoed around the empty house.

Panic over took the Englishman after about a minute of silence, and he pulled on some clothes, nothing fancy, loose pants and a t-shirt, I –heart- America over the front, the simple patriotic symbol and words making him grimace. He could have slammed the soles of his trainers out within the force that he shoved his foot in the poor defenseless shoes.

He snatched the car keys off of the kitchen bench and just as he walked out of the door, a second thought took him back inside for a quick dash to grab Alfred's beloved bomber jacket, which for once, hadn't gone with him to the UN.

The UN… Going there the previous day had caused all this mess to happen… NO! Even if Alfred had paid a heavy cost for it all… If he and Arthur hadn't of been fighting… If Arthur hadn't made him get out of the car… Then who knows what may have happened to that lady and her baby.

Arthur wanted to thank her… for what…? He didn't know. He just felt like he had to thank her or would in time. Maybe it was because she had been so distressed and concerned for Alfred… the Hero who had saved her and her child.

The blonde blinked back the tears which had begun to blind him as the hospital came into sight. After all, he didn't want to end up in a car accident either.

As soon as he parked the car diagonally across two car spaces, he sprinted to hospital reception, leaving the car unlocked with his door wide open, and demanded to the lady behind the glass with oily blond hair, demanded that he see Alfred.

She was chewing a bubble gum with a sickly sweet smell and blew a bubble in boredom as she looked at him like he was just another spot on the wall.

The bubble popped and she chewed it a few more agonizingly slow times before sighing and answering. "Sir, sit in the waiting room and I'll send someone through shortly to take you to… Archie or whatever you said." Her voice was irritated. Like SHE was irritated with HIM.

"Alfred~! Alfred F. Jones!" His voice raised an octave or two higher than it should have been.

His pirate blood bubbled angrily inside of him and he wandered if Ivan would lend his pipe to the cause… No! No…If he lost his temper… it would only make things worse. He did, after all, used to be a pirate, and the sadistic side never left him. Alfred had seen it once, about a year ago and, the American had begged him not to show that side ever again. He had been terrified. I won't go into the details of what happened to make him so enraged, but in a one sentence simple to explain mode, here's what happened. Alfred and Arthur were helping a little girl who had lost her parents at the park and some reckless drunk adults who were playing foot ball ran into them and kick the girl in the face. It was an accident, but she had got a bad blood nose and was only four years old. Arthur had beaten the crap out of this guy and his friends didn't even notice. This only made him angrier. Meanwhile Alfred had been holding the little girl close and hiding her in his bomber jacket, hiding her not from the man that had kicked her, but the enraged Englishman.

Ok, so that was more than one sentence, but I am a descriptive person okay~?

When he returned to his senses from the memory, the same annoying receptionist was blowing another bubble and looked at him with irritation.

"Alfred F. Jones…" He repeated and walked to the sitting room listlessly as if he was one of the undead. Two other people were seated in there but he paid them no heed, and sat down on a brown leather sofa and held the bomber jacket close. He couldn't help but let a few tears of frustration fall down his face.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice someone approaching him until a small hand rested on his cheek.

He looked up and saw a little girl. He frowned. She looked familiar.

"I remember you mister… from the park and then your other mister friend." His eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't believe what had happened. She was the same girl from the park. "I'm here wiv my aunty…" She looked over at a haughty, bony looking woman who gave a look of malice towards them both. "We're here for my daddy… why are you here…?" She asked wiping more of his humiliating tears away.

"… I…. I'm here for my friend… the one that was with me at the park…"

"What happened…?"

"… He was in a crash…"

"So was my Daddy… Mommy… M-Mommy…." The little girl started crying and hid her face with her hands. And Arthur understood. He dropped the bomber jacket and hugged her tightly.

"Don't worry. She'll watch over you… and your Daddy will be fine."

"But if Daddy dies he will go to Hell because he hurt someone else and they was talking about him on the adult TV this morning."

Arthur froze. Holding her a little tighter, a few more tears fell. "Did… did they say what his name was…?" He swallowed as he little girl blinked and looked at him.

"… yes they did… They said his name were Alfred Jones… I think…"

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. "He is my friend…"

The little girl looked horrified sobbed into Arthur's chest, her tears soaking through the patriotic shirt. "I'm really really really sorry for what my Daddy did to Mister Alfred…"

Arthur sighed again, and smiled… "I'll wait with you for your Daddy if you wait with me for Alfred…" He looked at her and wiped her eyes.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes please mister…?"


"Mister Arthur…" She nodded her head repetitively.

He chuckled and looked up to see the creepy woman who was her Aunty who by the way was glaring at them… no… HIM!

He swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Um… Excuse me… but do you mind if I wait with umm…?"

The girl giggled and hugged him. "… Alice, Mister Arthur."

He smiled. "Do you mind if Alice and I wait together…?"

The bony woman stood up and gave him a look colder than Ivan's kolkolkol stare.

"You can have the menace. Her father's a dead man anyway and so be it if she becomes an orphan." She left the room. Arthur stared into space for a second… shocked.

But he quickly stood up and left Alice with Alfred's jacket and stormed after this woman who had a stick… a stick covered in sand paper stuck up her ass. He'd never hit a woman before, but when she turned around to glare at him for following her; he swung a massive punch at her face. The staff and other people around them looked at him, shocked. The woman looked up from the floor like the writhing worm she was.

"Pull that stick out of your ass woman. Your niece is a beautiful little girl full of compassion and you give her the cold shoulder. She's five years old." This shocked the woman as she didn't know that the two, the girl and this fearsome ex-pirate before her, had crossed paths before.

"She's an orphan Sir and I will not take her under my wing." She stood up. "Her father died an hour ago. The adoption agency is arriving shortly anyway. She is deluded into thinking that he is still alive so that she doesn't try to run away or anything like that."

"That's cruel and sick."

"Your cruel Sir, for hitting a lady and you're sick in the head!"

She turned and walked briskly and stiffly out of the building, stick still up her ass.

A nurse approached Arthur and he went to apologize when there was a cry behind them. They turned and saw Alice, bawling her eyes out and holding onto the bomber jacket. It appeared she had heard the conversation and a horrible sadness would have come over at hearing of the death of her father like this, in such a blunt emotionless way.

The nurse walked over to the weeping girl.

"It's alright dear." Arthur instantly liked this nurse. She showed real emotion as she knelt beside Alice and patted her on the shoulder. "Do you want to get your things and I'll wait for the adoption agency with you? And I'll give you some biscuits and hot chocolate while we wait."

Alice cried a little louder and pushed passed the nurse and ran to… ARTHUR! She held onto his legs, shocking him and he lost balance for a bit.

As if anything could get worse, two officials from the adoption agency walked the entryway of the hospital.

With the nurse walking towards them, and the officials behind them, Arthur knew how trapped Alice must have felt. He sighed and picked her up and walked over to the officials and she whimpered.

"Excuse me. You're looking for an Alice…?"

The taller of the two nodded.

"Well I'm her new guardian, so shove off!"

Alice was asleep in his lap. It hadn't been easy and had taken many hours. But a trip the adoption agency had ensured that he was now Alice's father. He didn't know how Alfred would react to it. But the American had a chance to be her guardian as well when he gets better.

Arthur had finally gotten to go into Alfred's room and nearly broke down completely. But he kept his chin up and introduce Alice to the unconscious American. He eventually broke down at the sight of all the bandages and tubes and the IV and the machine that monitored the broken Hero's heartbeat.

At the moment as the little girl curled up against him, they were at home watching television. Well Alice wasn't because she was asleep and Arthur couldn't because he was worrying about Alfred and he soon felt his eyelids getting heavy. Looking at the clock he saw that it was 12:34 am and he swore under his breath.

It had been two month's since Alice had come to live with him as his daughter and he smiled as he tucked her into her little bed. It had to be set up in his and Alfred's room for now due to the fact that there was only one room in the small flat, but when Alfred was awake, he knew that they would have to talk about getting a bigger place.

That was his problem at the moment. He kept seeing the happy ending. Him, Alfred and Alice as one happy family. With all the running around he was doing for the two blondes, yes, as I haven't mentioned, Alice is blond with green eyes just for Arthur, he had forgotten about Francis and the rape and the fight that started this.

He never even had a chance to think about any consequences. Would Alfred die? Would he reject Alice? Would he reject Arthur?

Arthur yawned, stretching and his shirt raising a little. Just as he was about to collapse into his bed he felt an odd sensation in his stomach. He looked down and patted it. Maybe he was just hungry. He hadn't been eating much lately. So he wandered out to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. I would have to do until he made breakfast before they went to visit Alfred.

He rinsed out his glass and dawdled back to his room when the sensation returned, even stronger and he felt the milk and any other substance he had consumed that day rush back up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and was soon holding himself tight to the toilet basin as he vomited.

Even when he had done… the sensation was still there, though, finally not at a painful peak. He moaned and wiped the bile from his jaw.

"Are you okay Mister Arthur…?' He turned to see Alice in the doorway of the bathroom, clutching a baby polar bear, a gift from Mathew and Kumajiro, to her chest.

He looked at the bathroom clock. 06:02 am.

Oh hell no! He hadn't been there for five and a half hours had he…? But then again, you couldn't expect his time awareness to be in great working order while his body tried to turn inside out.

He smiled apologetically to her. His alarm probably went off as they usually woke at six to get to the hospital by seven or eight, depending on how fast they were in getting ready.

"I'm fine Alice. Just feeling a little sick."

"Maybe we shouldn't go and see Mister Alfred today if you are not feeling well…"

"No! I mean… no… We'll still go… but maybe later… I just need to rest and call a friend around to look at me… okay…?"

"Why not just see a doctor…?"

"Do you remember what I told you about Alfred and I being different from regular people. Well all of us need to know basic first aid to take care of each other."

She nodded, smiling, and he felt a painful stab at his heart knowing he'd see her grow old and die…No! He couldn't think of such things. Enjoy the time he had with her. That's all he could do.

"Who are you inviting to come over…? Is it Mister Mathew…?" The little polar bear in her arms squeaked at the thought of seeing its cousin polar bear.

"Not today. I'm inviting someone round named Kiku Honda. A close friend of mine."

Kiku did come around that afternoon as soon as Arthur called him; he seemed to appear on the doorstep. So terribly lucky that he was there a week early for the next UN meeting with Heracles.

The Grecian sat down in the lounge room and played with Alice, he and Kiku had been very surprised to find that Arthur had adopted and a child, and one that looked so much like him minus the eyebrows.

While Alice was occupied with Heracles and his one cat that went with him on overseas trips, Kiku had Arthur lay down on his bed and he looked him over.

"I can't find anything wrong Arthur-kun… And it was only vomiting…?"

The Englishman nodded. "And a weird sensation in my stomach that won't leave."

Kiku thought, and prepared for any situation, pulled a little box out of his bag.

"You… You want me to take a pregnancy test…?" Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Two… I'll take a few drops of blood to do a different pregnancy test while you do that one so that we can be certain of the results." With out warning, Kiku pricked the Englishman's finger with a needle and the blond yelped. He squeezed his finger and spilled a few drops of the dark red blood onto a plastic dish like those in a science lab.

Kiku told him to go and have a drink and take the other test. Sucking on his finger, Arthur nodded and stood up, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and downed it. He smiled as he thought of Alfred and he went to the bathroom.

Half an hour later… both tests done… one sentence rang in Arthur's brain.

"Arthur-kun, you're pregnant…"

And he could only think of two things at that point in time. How would he explain a male pregnancy to Alice… and the rape returned to mind…? Did he want to abort a child conceived of such vile means?

Well then, I do believe that that is the first chapter complete and out of the way. One down, two to go.

Sorry to, LifesATease, if the plotline changed a great deal, but I just had to put Alice in there, like a small gender bent Arthur to keep him company while Alfred is in hospital. And if you have any suggestions you would like to add in for me to think about, then feel free to do so as this story is for you. And thank you for being the first to request through my forum… type… thing.

If you have any questions please ask, and yes… I will quote at the head of each chapter.

And about the '…' marks, I use them a lot so please do not complain. They help me ad to certain atmospheres if used right. Also… I want to write something with Germany and Romano… but I have now ability to be inspired for it. And I know it is not a common pairing but I think it could be quite adorable. Small suggestions would be welcome as well as for a Russia Uke story for this group I'm in. I'm just a wee bit stuck on that one.

And if you want an original plotline of your favorite pairing, dedicated to you, then please do not feel ashamed or shy to ask. F anyone wants to know, I will anime a movie if I know it. Mostly using Death note, Hetalia and Kyo Kara Maoh for those movies. As an example… Hetalia crossed with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the crystal skull or Death note crossed with Predator vs. Alien. Actually… I may just do that one… But if you want to cross any of those three anime with a movie then just ask and I'll do it as long as I know the movie.

Finally before I sign off, I am a Catholic and do not mean anything by doubting the existence of God, do if I have offended anyone, then please accept my humble apologies.

Oh, and my pen name came from Shrek the 3rd.

or something like that… I don't know my own name… .