N/A: Hello everyone! Yes, I am not dead. I am very deeply sorry about my near a year long absence (wow time really does fly).

Most of you would have probably forgotten about this story by now, or forgotten what this story is about. So please revisit it from the beginning or at least revisit the last scene, which is scene 25. I realised I had left the last chapter at a cliff hanger, and I am really sorry for leaving it like that for so long!

Thank you to everyone who has alerted and favoured this story, and a big thank you to everyone who took that extra effort and left a review. Your words mean a lot to me, every single one.

I would like to dedicate this chapter to SONICgal, who is responsible for breathing life back into this story. It's amazing, the power that a review can hold. Thank you for reminding me that there are still readers out there waiting to know how this ends. Your short two lines gave me back the motivation to write, something that several new subscriber alerts simply couldn't.

I apologise that this chapter is short compared to the previous, but that's all the time I had today. I also hope that this chapter will fit down the line, because I made a lot of changes on the fly. Better short than nothing, I suppose.

Warnings: Do I still have to do this? Violence. Fluff (is that what you call when characters excessively gaze into each others eyes?). Still rated M.

Hetalia and its characters do not belong to me.

Enjoy.

Chapter 4: When a Monster Sleeps

Scene 26
Day 21 France
World Conference - Bathroom
12.15pm

France caught England and eased him to the ground.

"Oi! Arthur! Stay with me! What happened?" France held England's face in his cool hands. "Merde! You're burning up!" England's green eyes seemed unseeing and he mumbled incoherently. France's heart gave a sharp throb when he saw blood on Arthur's coat.

France reached for Englishman's jacket, dreading what he might find beneath. England made a sound that could have been a meek protest, a plea or a moan of pain. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

France gasped when he saw England's blood soaked shirt. When did he get those wounds? Who gave them to him? Did England get into a fight while France was in a coma? Who was it? Rage welled in the Frenchman's heart at whoever had inflicted such terrible wounds on Arthur.

Arthur closed his eyes and shivered. He was panting heavily. France could barely make out the sound of door opening. France turned to see Germany, with a stormy look on his face. "Germany, wait!" In less than two seconds, Germany crossed the expanse of the room and lifted England by the neck and slammed him against the tiled wall.

France's eyes went wide in horror. England weakly tried to pry off the arm that held him, his face contorted in pain. Choking sounds came out of his throat. Blood spread faster on his shirt and dripped down his elbows to the floor. "Put him down, please!" France cried out and threw himself against Germany. Germany did not release his hold. France looked into his blue eyes and saw that same murderous expression as when Germany punched Prussia on their first night.

Oh God. He was going to kill Arthur. "Stop!" France reared back and punched Germany in the face. A cracking sound filled the room. France stared at Germany in astonishment as the German nation slid his jaw back into place but didn't relent his hold. A streak of blood run down England's temple and onto Germany's outstretched arm. Tears pricked France's eyes and he did the only thing he could think of. He gripped both sides of Germany's face and kissed him.

That same unpleasant feeling washed over France but he beared with it. Still Germany did not let go. Then France did the unthinkable and slipped his tongue into Germany's mouth, deep kissing him. It was the first time that France ever taken the lead. Slowly, Germany responded with his tongue, wrapping his free arm around France. France felt his knees go weak, the strength leaving his body. From the corner of his eyes he saw England stop struggling. Was this all for nothing? Were both England and he destined to die writhing in Germany's hold? Tears run down France's face. This was not how he wanted them to end.

A heavy thud broke France back to reality. He broke the kiss, gasping for air. He was leaning heavily on Germany's chest, his own legs feeling unsteady. France looked frantically around for England and found him lay bleeding and unconscious at their feet.

France pushed away from Germany and fell down because he was so weak. He crawled to Arthur and his face lit up with a smile when he saw Arthur breathe. Seeing that Germany might still attack England, France moved to the other side of the room. It pained him that he could not help Arthur or even touch him with Germany present. He got out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would take adequate care of England, Matthew.

Mathew came and said he'd take care of England but what about France? France looked bad too and Matthew said he was worried. France said not to worry. He'll be fine. It was England that he was concerned about. Please, help England. Canada carried England away.

France stared at the spot England used to occupy for a long while. His thoughts were a mess. It was more than an hour since Mathew and Arthur were gone, and France finally tried getting up. France was so weak that he could not stand on his own and did not have the energy to protest when Germany lifted him into his arms bridal style. France made it to his sleeping place and collapsed asleep as soon as he fell on the bed.

Scene 27
Day 22 France
France's room at the conference center
9am

It was the second day of the world conference and France didn't attend. That was partly because he hasn't fully recovered, partly because he didn't want to risk another incident with Germany, and partly because he just couldn't bring himself to show his face to the public. He'll have an earful from his boss later, but right now, he didn't care.

He sat on his bed in his assigned rooms, elbows on knees and head hanged, the events of the day before replaying in his mind. How was Arthur? France repeated that question over and over in his head. The image of Arthur unconscious and bleeding at Germany's feet and the accompanying despair were still fresh, and the silence from France's mobile phone deafened the room. Why hasn't Matthew called him yet? France's hands itched to call and ask that burning question, but he held back, afraid that any moment of Matthew's distraction could cause him to lose Arthur.

Ludwig also sat silent, occasionally glancing at him in concern, but otherwise his eyes stared at a stain on the ceiling, unfocused.

The phone rang.

France pressed accept within the first half-second. "How is he?"

"He's awake." Matthew said, sounding a little startled.

France released a breath he didn't know he's been holding.

"Is he all right?"

"He came close to… close to d…but he's better now." Matthew said meekly. He sounded nervous.

France knew that tone—the tone that meant that Matthew was uncomfortable about saying something. Or hiding something.

"What is it, Matthew? You know you can tell me."

Matthew was silent for a bit, as he was when gathering courage. France heard England speak in the background, and France's heart leaped. He couldn't understand the words, but he couldn't help the relief that flooded his veins.

"He wants to see you," Matthew whispered.

In one second, France's relief turned into longing, and a deep ache settled in his chest. "You know I can't," France answered just as quietly. "Germany won't let me."

Germany's eyes lowered at this, and he didn't say anything.

Mathew sounded even more nervous and France faintly heard Matthew and England argue. England couldn't be that bad if he had the strength to argue with Matthew, right? But then again, France knew that England often hid the truth, which didn't help his worry any.

"France." England rasped.

That one word both filled and opened a deep ache in France's heart. No amount of time could have prepared him for this.

"I'm sorry." France's voice wavered slightly, which had nothing to do with how tired he was.

"No, I am the one who should be." A horrifying cough erupted through the line. It was so bad that France was afraid England would die just from that. He heard Matthew fret in the background.

"I am flattered that you can't get enough of my voice, but you shouldn't talk. Please recover—" France began but England cut him off.

"You must come." His breathing was rugged. "I have to tell you something."

"I can't, not if it's going to be a repeat of yesterday."

"Is Germany… Ludwig right now?"

France really didn't want England to strain himself, but he knew England would just yell at him if he tried to shut him up. "He is."

"Then bring him with you. He…" More coughing. "He has to hear this as well."

France bit the inside of his cheek. He had to stop England talking now! "I will ask him. Can you please put Matthew back on the phone? You need to rest. Please?"

"I will if you promise…" Horrendous coughing rocked the line, even though England tried to muffle it.

"I promise! I promise! Just stop being so stubborn. Mon deu."

"Good. See you—"

"I got the phone," Matthew cut in, sounding exasperated. "It amazes me how he can still put up a fight when he's sick like this."

France smiled, both fond and bitter. "That's my Angleterre."

"Are you really going to come?" Matthew whispered in French.

"I can hear you, git." France heard England mumble in the background.

"I have to, or he'll strain himself to death. But not today."

"I understand." He didn't sound convinced. "Please stay safe."

"Please look after him so that he doesn't do anything reckless—like getting out of bed. And Matthew?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Scene 28
Day 23 England (but can be France too)
Canada's house
10.30am

France and Ludwig arrive at Matthew's and he leads them to where England lay bandaged in bed. England looks pale and spent but determined. He looks at France and Germany and regret washes over him.

He sees how bad France has become, pale and sick, with deep circles under his eyes. His hair has lost its shine, and the playful gleam in his eyes had dulled but France is still functioning fairly well.

"Bonjour, Arthur." France takes a seat a good distance away from England. Germany sits even further away, looking unsettled about the whole thing. France questions about England's wounds, which England answers with denial about their seriousness, which gets them fighting (because France had an idea of England's state from taking to Canada), during which England finally breaks that it was him that cast a curse on France to make Germany haunt him. He tells them the curse word for word which makes France speechless due to the intensity of the curse. When France recovers, he asks quietly, "Why? Why, Angliterre?"

England tells that he cast the spell after the time France pissed him off after the café. "I didn't know it would turn out this way! I didn't know that the spell would be this powerful, or that a demon would possess Germany."

Germany gets mad when he hears that, and that it was England that cast the curse. His face shows how furious he feels about having been dragged into this. He says that he would have broken England's face if he was not already sick in bed. Germany's aggressive body language causes France to mediate before anyone got hurt. Germany demands to know how the spell is to be broken.

England hesitates telling them.

"England, since you cast the spell, you know how to remove it, right?" France said. "Why don't you cast the spell that removes this one be done with it?"

England mutters something too quiet to hear.

"Speak!" Germany says.

"I can't remove it!" It pains England to admit this. "Otherwise I wouldn't be laying injured in this bed!"

This leads to another session of arguing, until England eventually says that the spell can be broken if France fulfils the spell's condition.

England looks sadly into France's eyes, regret written all over England's face. It makes France worried but he asks anyway. "What is the condition?"

England is reluctant but Germany presses. England looks away. "France must sincerely fall in love with Germany."

France is taken aback, again.

"This is ridiculous!" Germany says, his face looking like he is about to explode.

"Is there another way?" France asks.

England shakes his head.

Germany throws his head in his hands and turns around to leave. "Germany," France calls after him, but Germany pauses only to smash a fist into the wall next to the door, leaving a bloody dent behind.

When Germany is gone, France stares at England and says "I can't love him."

England's face changes from regret to frustration. "Why not? You're the damn country of love!"

France smiles sadly and walks closer so that he is only a foot apart from England's bed. England is still mad but he finds himself blushing at France's proximity. France reaches out to him, careful not to touch him, but the way he does it and the look in his eyes speak to him as if France pulled him close. "I love only you, Angleterre."

England blushes deeper. "No you don't."

He expected France to argue, but France only smiles at him sadly, leaning on his bed, careful not to touch him. His eyes gaze at him, not in the lewd way like he usually does, but with a deep sad look that seems to reach to his very soul. For the first time in a long time, England feels the need to touch, to hold—his hands feel painfully empty—but France leaning on his bed is as close as they could become because of the curse. Close, but unable to touch.

Somewhere among this, France asks, why was England hurt before the world meeting? England doesn't want to tell him but France pushes on and England confesses his theory that whenever Germany acts violent like when he resisted America, he draws strength from England because that is when his wounds opened. "How is that possible?" France asks.

"When I cast a spell, it draws energy from my magic reserve, or aura or chakra, whatever name you call it. This spell drained a lot out of me on the night, and it keeps drawing more, which it shouldn't have. I can't restore my magic back fast enough. This has happened to me before, but never for this long or of this severity."

"What kind of spellcaster are you if your curse hurts you more than your victim?"

England looks away. He comes close but does not quite say sorry.

End Chapter 4: When a Monster Sleeps

This seems like a good place to put a note about (rage-quitting) Germany. Through all this there isn't much focus on what Ludwig must be going through, what he must be feeling with the demon possessing him. So, with a little brainstorming, there could be scenes that show how Germany struggles to keep the demon in check, especially toward the end of the story. There could be scenes focusing on Germany's side and how he's been unwillingly dragged in. I believe he would blame himself for not being stronger and for not being able to stop the demon from coming. Also, he can sense the demon in him and it may additionally drive him mad (from having someone else's emotions influencing his own). He may be afraid of being angry toward Prussia and others because the connection's two way and the demon may act on Ludwig's emotions. Germany seriously needs a hug. Where are you, Italy?

A/N: Since this chapter turned out short, there will probably still be 2 more chapters to this story.

Next chapter: Efforts to break the curse begin, Russia says hi, France and England share one bed, and Germany ends up alone and unloved in a dark basement.

Please review. I want to know who's still reading this!

Running Lynx