Sickness - Part One [[APH FanFic]]

Prussia and France walked into the meeting room, worried expressions on their face as they bent their heads, speaking to each other in urgent whispers. They both looked up when their names were called, worry shining in their eyes. England had been the one calling their names.

"You're an hour late you wankers!" the Englishman scolded, his eyes shining in annoyance. "America's not here either, and Canada.. where is he?!" he grumbled to himself. France looked at them quietly, then Prussia spoke up.

"Actually, we know where they both are," he said, drawing everybody's eyes to both of them. France nodded,

"Matthieu is sick," France said quietly, "America is looking after him, he told us to come to the meeting," he explained. England raised a worried eyebrow(s),

"What is Canada sick with?" he questioned.

"We don't know, but his temperature is extremely high," France answered.

"He's been coughing and sneezing all night, barely got any sleep. He won't eat, drink, talk, or even move from his bed..," Prussia said silently, his eyes more worried then France's as of now. He was worried about Canada, his boyfriend.. England looked fairly startled now, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. Russia looked like plain old Russia, but other then that, everybody looked worried.

"I could beat him with my pipe so he gets better, da? It will make him because he'll be to scared to not get better and run away, da?" Russia spoke innocently. Gil stared at him, his eyes twitching.

"No.. no.. we're good..," he said, earning a glare from Russia, which scared him quite a bit. It was normal, though. "Anyway, America's there, Canada's there too," he breathed.

The two countries looked very tired now, they had given up not looking exhausted, England could tell. They were worried, and he... he was too.

_____

"Canada, wake up.. please..,"

America sat by Canada's bedside, his hand gripping the Canadian's extremely pale hand. "Matt, please wake up..," he whispered, frowning. This wasn't like him, no, but he was alone with his sick brother. Who wouldn't. Wake. Up. He turned his hand over again, pressing two fingers against his wrist, checking for a pulse. It was there, but faint like before, and wavering from his unsteady breathing. He sat back silently, glancing at his watch, then his cellphone, then his brother. He looked at his brother for a while, wishing he didn't look so thin, so pale, so sick.. "He'll be fine..," he reassured himself. Canada's body would soon tell him otherwise.

_____

It was the lunch break at the meeting now, but both Prussia and France had refused to eat anything, even after coaxing from England and Germany. They were too worried to eat, to worried to think even. Prussia couldn't remember anything from the meeting, the words had all formed into Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada for him. Gil glanced down, breaking from his thoughts at the ring of his cellphone. He reached into his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, gasping. "America!" he nearly shouted, drawing eyes, once again, to him. He flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked.

"Get the hell over here! Now!" a worried American nearly yelled into the phone. "He's getting worse, I can barely feel a pulse. Get to the hospital dammit!" he shouted, obviously worried, his voice scratching, evidence that he had been crying. Gil had paled visibly at every word the American had said, and he took it in, feeling sick himself suddenly. "Y-yeah, the awesome me and France will be there s-soon..," he whispered, closing the phone. The moment the phone was back in his pocket he grabbed France's shirt. "Come on," he breathed, tears glistening in his eyes. "He's in the hospital!" he breathed.

England's eyes widened. Was it really.. that bad..? "Everybody!" he shouted. "The meeting is done, we have worse matters on out hands at the moment!" he called out. Gil offered him a slight nod of gratitude, before dragging the Frenchman halfway to his car before France finally developed what was happening. He began to run, and they both jumped into the car. They didn't bother doing up their seat belts as they zoomed from the parking lot, running lights to get there, to him.

______

America set the phone down, climbing into the Ambulance silently but quickly, staring at his brother. He was paler then ever before, sweat beading in his forehead, his breaths barely noticeable. "Canada.., please.. please, be okay..," he whispered, holding his brother's hand, closing his eyes, and letting those rare tears fall..