[Fanfic De-Anon] Do No Harm 5/?

[jazzchyk]

  Title: Do No Harm
Author: PhantomMemories/JazzChyk
Genre: Angst/Drama
Rating: For now, T for language reasons
Warnings: USUK, Language, implied past sexual activity.
Summary: After an attack on America, the personification vanishes. (Kink Meme De-anon request for Amnesia and Doctor!America. Original request here.)


Tokyo:

There were others in this waiting area, Japan knew, but he could see none of them with Amer-- Dr. England so close. He could hear the mutterings of a few-- concerns in English about their flight, the timing of their visit, what they would do while waiting--

“You know, you don't have to trust me with your name. I can always call you 'big brother'--” The smile wasn't as brilliantly blinding, but it was there, and steeped in the kindness that had lurked behind the flashiness. “Is there someone we should call to get you home, or are you looking for a flight?”

The accent was atrocious, but the vocabulary was mostly correct--

Japan nearly choked on the idea of being called 'big' anything by this person.

“Aniki?” The tone was playful, and serious. “Does anything else hurt besides the ankle? Did you bump your head, or your knee--”

“Honda Kiku.” Japan said swiftly, before he could change his mind, before the man could call him by that appellation again. “My name is Honda Kiku.”

“Didn't know you could speak Japanese, Al.” Rob had returned with a red cross marked box. “You're full of surprises.”

“I wasn't-” the doctor started, and Japan noted the slight confusion behind the smile. Fear, maybe? And resignation. But mostly confusion. “Ha, slipped my mind to tell you--”

“Your accent is horrible.” Japan said, in English, feeling the need to come to the rescue. “Be glad he is not speaking for your group. You would be sitting on the wings of the plane, being served ten day old sushi.”

“Ha ha, you wound me, Honda-san.” Back to English now, but Japan noticed that he still used the honorific, and had gotten his name correct. “But it's true. I don't speak enough to get us around. I must have picked some up from that Japanese nurse I was working with.”

“It was truly not that horrible, Otōto-kun.” Japan said softly in his own language; there was something bad connected to knowing, and he was mildly curious as to what it was. “But I see that it makes you uncomfortable.”

“How's that feel?” Oddly, the ankle had stopped hurting- at least while he was sitting down. “Much better, I hope. We can see if someone will bring crutches, or maybe one of those little carts in a minute.”

Somehow during that brief conversation, Dr. England had managed to get the bandage and brace on the affected limb. Neatly-- professionally. This couldn't be America. The Nation had a difficult time with band-aids. Japan could recall clearly the way England had been forced to re-do the treatment for a small scrape on America's knee-- removing six or seven of the things in the process.

No, this could not be the same person, despite the familiar laugh, the similar accent, the appearance.

Still, he had just come to the rescue of a stranger. Just like Alfred-kun.

“Hey. You still in there?” A hand was laid upon his arm.

“Hai, I am still here.” Japan allowed himself a small smile, “I was merely lost in thought, and remembered why I came to this place.”
“Oh?”

“My government wishes to apologize for the delay of your mission, and offers its hospitality. A car is waiting to take you to a hotel, and if you wish, I can recommend a restaurant which makes very nice hamburgers.” France would be there in the morning-- and then in the afternoon, these people-- and this troubling young doctor-- would leave.

The way Alain England's eyes lit up in that old painfully familiar way tore a little piece of Japan's heart. It was Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once.

“Seriously? You have a place that serves burgers?”

“Oh for pete's sake, Al.” Rob was laughing, “You'd think nowhere but America had them.”

“That's not true. I know they have 'em in Canada.” Al was laughing as well. “Canada has everything we have, and more.”

“Not this argument again,” Rob took the first aid kit that Alain handed him. “Being annexed into Canada isn't the answer for all the country's problems. C'mon-- let's not go through this in front of our host.”

Alain had been listing a number of flaws in his own country, but stopped when Rob reminded him that they now had a host who was listening.

“Sorry-- I guess I'm just hungry.” That smile. “We've got plenty of time for debate later.”

Japan rose with the help of one of the others from the group-- doctor or engineer, he did not know-- but the glimpse of the dangling tag on Dr. England's carry-on bag gave him a moment of pause.

A Canadian flag, merged with an American one in the symbol of the movement to merge the countries. And apparently this young physician was a member of that group.

No. He could not be America, this young Alain; the Alfred that Kiku knew, and had been friends with for so long would never argue his flaws, or push for his own dissolution. Even if he was burning with questions, Japan could not find it in himself to push a man who merely looked like his old friend.

Alain had never met him before, and once France was satisfied they would be on their way, and likely, Japan would never personally meet him again.

*V*^*V*^*V*^*

Traveling always wore upon one, France had learned long ago, and it was always best to freshen up after a long journey-- even if one had spent half of it asleep. The other half had been occupied with the internet connection available to passengers. It wasn't nearly as good as it had been before America was reduced to a protectorate-- a bit slower-- but it had sufficed.

And the information it had provided...

A glance at his watch told him that the American plane had landed three hours ago. If Japan hadn't been able to delay them, it would have been long gone, along with this opportunity. As it was, France had called Japan immediately upon landing and found that not only had the other Nation delayed the group, but gotten them to accept his hospitality. The hotel that was named was not cheap.
With his usual efficiency, Japan had made this task a whole lot easier. Although... France was almost afraid of the anger that had smouldered underneath the gentle words.

“Why did you not warn me?” Japan's voice was even. Almost cool. “You know I was not looking for him, and yet--”

“Calmly, s'il vous plait.” France's driver was giving him strange looks through the rearview mirror. “I did not have much information then, other than a photograph and a name. And I did not know how to explain the feeling--”

“Have you told Igirisu?” The implied 'Will you tell him?' and all the associated guilt were implied. Not that Japan needed to say anything.
“I just got here. There's been no time to call him. What would I have said to him? 'Mon petit, there is an American doctor who looks much like our lost lapin. Stay here and weep while I find out that he is just a random human who happens to look like the other half of your soul'? Non, Japon, I could not do that to him-- could you?”

“No...” The words came slowly, and the sounds of conversation in the background became more apparent. “So... he is just another human who is a living ghost, with the same laugh, the same eyes, and no memory of his friends. I agree if that is true. Igirisu does not need any more pain.”

“That... is yet to be seen. The part concerning Alain England's identity, that is-- We are agreed that Angleterre does not need to be hurt again.”

The conversation had ended upon that note, as after his long journey, Francis Bonnefoy was checking in to the same hotel, and glancing around for that particular group of foreigners.

“There is a traditional bath here. That is where he is.” The low voice told him. “He was reluctant to go in with strangers, so it is just his colleagues right now.”

“Ah.” Francis said, turning to find that Japan-- no, Kiku amongst those who did not know-- was standing next to him. “Thank you, mon ami. And I do apologize for my haste.”

“Haste can be something that is needed. I doubt we would have found him again after he left my islands.” Japan's eyes were darker than usual, with a hint of something resembling... “You implied that might be a chance...”

Ah yes. There was emotion involved. The two of them had been good friends, and the spark of hope in Kiku's eyes told a lot more than the other had meant to show.

“All of the information on Alain England starts eleven years ago. He was yet another of the victims of the attacks who was taken in by one of his attending physicians. They estimated his age to be about sixteen. And intelligent-- a genius, as he was able to complete pre-medical school in less than half of the time it would normally take. He practiced in the same city in which he was found until two months ago, when he began preparation to make this trip.”

“Ah.” Was the only response.

Looking up, France realised that he was at the door to the baths.

“The porter is taking care of your bag.” The faint shadow of a smile was curving Japan's lips. “He loves hamburgers, baseball, and children. Also, has a cat named 'Iggy'. He has been very talkative. Just not about his childhood.”

The same faint smile started to curve France's lips upwards as well.

“Be cautious. If he is America, then there is something else going on here.” Ever cautious, not committing, even though the information was weighing heavily towards the positive.

“Will you call England and Canada? Arthur deserves-- they both deserve to know. We should not all overwhelm him at once, however. I--”
“Just go, Bonnefoy-san. I know you have missed him as well.”

Despite any past disagreements, Francis had missed Alfred. Had missed the sunny optimism-- and missed seeing his neighbor too occupied with snogging the taller man to argue over pointless things...

The early evening air was cool, but the steam coming from the water in the bath told him it was warm. The soft echo of a laugh pinpointed the group, who were lounging about in a corner, chattering excitedly over their current accommodations-- including a blond head that made Francis pause.

Without his glasses, Al still looked about sixteen-- though there was enough wear that one could tell that he was older than that. The scar alone-- it marred the normal beauty of that smiling face that he had fought England for so long ago. He was low in the water, but Francis could see white edges that marred the normally smooth broad shoulders...

He'd been hurt badly. But how badly?

Badly enough that he has lost almost everything about himself.

“Hello there.” A man that seemed to be about the age that Al-- not Alfred, Alain-- was called to him. “Come on in-- the water's terrific.”

Alain seemed to be trying to sink into the water, a faint flush beyond that of the steaming water colouring his face.

“Bonsoir, mes amis.” Francis smiled easily, but not quite as easily as Alfred had always done. How the boy had hidden everything behind the friendly smile, France would never know. “The waters are always fine here. My name is Francis.”

“First time for us.” The same man said, “I'm Robert. This is Alain--”

The rest of the group were introduced, however much of Francis's attention was upon the young man trying to hide in the water. This was not like America-- the voice of doubt crept back in, even as he approached wading through the deliciously warm waters.

“Al, you don't have to hide.” Rob told him, “It's ok.”

“Ah, but not all of us are used to such things-- the baring of the physical form within the presence of others--” France laughed, “It must be an American thing, this shyness. There is no shame in one's body.”

“He's not usually shy.” The other American snorted. “Al, seriously, it's all right.”

“It is all right,” France said softly, suddenly realising something. The younger had been mostly covered before-- he seemed to be covering up those unsightly marks that he bore upon his shoulders-- “I understand. But scars are the mark of a survivor. They fade with time-- see? I  have a few battle-marks myself.”

“Y-yeah.” That voice was the same, the pitch, the intonation. But the hesitation was not. And there was a slight touch of maturity of a sort. “I know. I tell the kids that all the time-- it's still hard to deal with the stares and the looks--”

“I promise I will not give you the horrified looks, mon ami.” Francis remembered a few of those, when he'd been just healing from the second world war. “I will not pity-- after all, I have been there. I can give you sympathy, as one who has been in that position before. And perhaps admiration for the beauty of a form that has endured. Please-- let yourself relax, as this place was intended.”

Alain slowly nodded, and very obviously forced himself to relax, allowing those scarred shoulders surface slightly.

Had America ever been this insecure about such a thing? France would have said 'no', but--

“Thanks.” Rob laughed, “We've been trying to convince him that nobody is going to care about those for years. Stubborn ass.”
“Like you're any different.” The smile was back on Alain's face, “I know-- I'm just... I don't ever remember not having them, but it's like I do. Weird. But not as weird as your thing for perogies. Those things are nasty.”

“Hey-- I'll have you know that is the best food ever!”

The conversation moved away from old wounds, and on to other things that left Francis more confused than ever. There were no superheroes mentioned, but robots-- as in robotic surgery tools-- and the excitement in Alain's eyes made him look more and more like...

He was fast running out of time in which to prove to himself one way or another.

“Oh!” Alain suddenly popped up out of the water. “I almost forgot-- I have to call home-- Miss Nettie's probably up and waiting by now.”
Any responses were lost to Francis, as he forced himself not to react.

The stares would have been nearly justified, he realised-- and 'hurt badly' was an understatement. As Alain made his way out of the water, Francis could see the white scar tissue that lined the younger man's back, arms and legs. He recognized the cause, and despite the warmth of the water, shivered.

Burns.

Some of the old marks of wars long past had been obliterated, replaced. The few that he remembered and could pinpoint were mostly gone, though a few distinctive ones--

This was Alfred. He was really alive.

And he hadn't recognized France, nor Japan.

France almost wished for England's presence, however... between the obvious injury to his lover's body, the island Nation's reaction to not being recognised would most likely be more hurt.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to ask Kiku to call them so soon.

*V*^*V*^*V*^*

France was in Japan.

Bloody fucking bearded arsehole was in Japan, when England needed to call him and tell him that he was fucking wrong about America, wrong about Alfred, and maybe gloat--

But he was in Japan, and considering their last conversations, considering his current state of mind, it was probably for the best. Arthur knew that he'd end up breaking down and outright sobbing (virtually) on France's shoulder again. (Bloody frog, no matter how many times they'd fought, it had come down to Francis being one of the most sturdy supports he had.)

It had only been an hour or two from the time they'd found where Alfred had been living, the person who had been helping him. As they were waiting for the call, his stomach was tying and untying. His heart was fluttering, as though he were a young boy waiting for-- well. He wasn't young, but he was waiting for the sound of that voice.

Miss Nettie had been more than delighted to tell them about Alain-- Alfred- how he'd been living, his friends, his studies. The way he'd broken the heart of many a nurse by remaining so devoted to the kids that there was really no time for a relationship. Besides-- Alain told Miss Nettie once after she teased him about turning down a dinner with a lovely young thing-- He didn't feel comfortable with it. Like there was someone out there, and he'd know that person immediately, and they'd live happily ever after.

(That shouldn't make Arthur feel as warm inside as it did-- and hopeful--)

He'd tried to call France to let him know. Canada had suggested it, lest Arthur give in to the nervous tears that were threatening, whilest he himself went with Miss Nettie to peek into his brother's life.

They should, England reflected, Probably call Japan as well.

“Goat-face is not at home.” Arthur said as soon as Matthew returned with Miss Nettie. Words left him as he saw the look on the younger's face. “What's wrong, Matthew?”

“My boss called, Arthur. Annexation is coming up for a vote next month, and Yao has started making noise about the debt.”

“That's....” Arthur tried recalling Nations that he knew who had been made a part of their neighbors. Hawaii, Texas, Prussia, Gwynedd, Powys-- At least half of those were completely gone now. “Not good.”

“And that's the understatement of the century. If Yao calls those debts, he'll be pretty much wiped out. If he's annexed-- he could vanish entirely. And to make it worse--” Arthur was aware that Miss Nettie was trying not to listen in, but Matthew continued anyhow. “Al is a part of the movement to merge with Canada as a province.”

“Fuck.” The word slipped out before he could stop it, the sudden pain of realising that he might just lose Alfred a second time-- Arthur threw Miss Nettie a quick apologetic look.“Sorry, madam. What is can we do?”

“Boys, I think your first concern is to get in contact with Al. It's been a long time for both of you-- and even if he doesn't remember a blessed thing, he's still missed you. The friends he's made since he lost you have been a comfort, but there's something about finding family--” Miss Nettie scooted Iggy over on her settee, and stroked his buff and orange head fondly. “I've done my best, but I'm not really his mother. He's supposed to be in the vicinity of Pyongyang for six months before coming back for a break.”

The telephone in the apartment rang before Arthur could form a proper response to the calm way this human was taking things that would confuse most. Then again, she'd been close to Alfred for the past eleven years. There was no way that giant robots, and insane balloon hijinks could never have come into a discussion.

“Alain!” Laughter, “How was your flight, sweetheart?”

Matthew gave Arthur a sidelong glance, and gestured with the vibrating cell phone in his hand. Another call. Hopefully good news, this time. The other Nation slipped out into the hallway.

“Yes, Iggy's fine. Sulking because I won't spoil him with attention. You're where? Oh! A good chance to relax before the hard work begins... Alain, are you sitting down now? All right then. Two men came by this morning about that old picture in the database. One of them looks a lot like you, and …. Alain? Sweetheart. Yes, I checked. Arthur and Matthew. Yes. They've been looking for you for years, ma cheri.” Miss Nettie gestured for Arthur to come to the phone. “Al, someone wants to say hello to you now.”

The phone was still warm from where it had pressed against Miss Nettie's cheek, and Arthur gathered himself. On the other end--

“Hello?” Alfred's voice was faintly cheerful, but Arthur could hear the carefully concealed teariness. It would be present in his own voice, he knew, but--

“Hello, Al.” Arthur said, giving up on keeping from becoming that watering pot that he so despised, knowing that he would have to introduce himself. It wasn't like he could ask for more than one miracle. That America-- Alfred was alive was enough. “I've missed you so much, love. I know you don't remember, but I'm Arthur.”

“Hello, Artie.” The smile was in Arthur's mind, seeing Alfred's face there, laughing, smiling-- “I like the accent. I wish the timing had been better-- I'd like to meet you. The world needs those Star Trek transporters, then you could be here, or I could be there, and - and-- We need to meet soon.“

“It's Arthur, you id--” He couldn't do it. Couldn't continue the half insult. They were both crying, Arthur realised. But this time it wasn't from that deep aching grief that he'd carried with him for so long. It was happiness. “God. I was afraid I'd lost you forever. I'll fly over there as soon as I can. Just stay safe. Korea is dangerous.”

“I know, but I haven't gotten there yet-- I'm still in Tokyo.”

“Tokyo?” France had flown to Japan, according to his office. “You-- you wouldn't happen to have met a man named Francis Bonnefoy in the past few hours, would you?”

“I met a Francis earlier. He's French. Seems like a really nice guy.”

“I'm going to kill him.” A bit of the warm fuzzy happiness had worn off. “I'm going to kill that fucking Frog. Bastard-- “

“Hey, stay calm Artie. Does he know me too?” There was an eagerness in that voice-- that same boyish enthusiasm that Arthur had missed so much. “He was giving me this look earlier, like I was a specimen to be studied. Why did my application have to go through now? I could be home, and--”

“Yes, he knows you. Just be cautious-- he's a bit of a pervert. Matthew and I can be in Tokyo tomorrow night.”

“But my plane for Pyongyang leaves tomorrow afternoon. I committed to this mission months ago-- I have to go. If it wasn't for that mechanical failure in the engine, we'd be there right now. I can call you, and you can tell me all about you or you can call me and tell me about me, and then we can meet up in Japan on my break-- or wherever you want.”

“It's dangerous for you to be in Korea, Alf-- Alain. There are other reasons than the zone. Can you not delay a little longer?” Arthur used the handkerchief that Miss Nettie had left for him before busying herself in the kitchen to wipe away some of the dampness on his face. “Please.”

“There are people who need me there, and I know that because I'm American they won't be happy with me. But I've got to help repair some of the damage that we did.” There was an audible swallow. “But I've got so many questions. You weren't going to call me Alain. What is my real name?”

“That... is complicated, but we've been looking for you under the name of 'Alfred F Jones' for the past eleven years.”

“I think I like Alain better.” Arthur could almost see the face he was pulling through the telephone. “But what do you mean, 'it's complicated'? Is it an alias? Why can't you tell me?”

“It's why I wanted you to wait for me. We can't... talk about it over the phone. There are things that--” From the receiver he could hear the sound of voices in the background, and a muffled thud. “Al?”

Arthur didn't get a reply- and whatever else was going on in the background was drowned out by the door flying open to admit a pale and shaken Matthew.

“Matthew?”

“Yao is doing more than threatening.” Matthew announced in that quiet way of his, “He's started.”

The distant echo of a familiar voice on the other end of the phone filled the silence in his ear.

Kiku.


“ Dr. England? Are you all right? Alain?”