Healed By Love

Rose/ Francis-Part 2

"Franciiiiiiiis," Alfred whined. "Do the thiiiiiiing!" He drew out. "For Kylie!"
Francis sighed, and gave Kylie a small smile. "Be. Our….GUEST! Be our guest!" He set the plate down in front of her first, "Put our service to the test!" And Alfred's plate was served too. "Tie your napkin 'round your neck Cherie," He booped the toddler's nose and winked, "And we'll provide the rest!" Both Alfred and Kylie giggled and clapped as Francis went through the entire song "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast. He did a really good job too. Such a shame we can only imagine it, isn’t it? "Yaaaaay!" The toddler cheered at the end. "…Whwere is twhe swong frwom?" "YOU HAVEN'T SHOWN HER FREAKING BEAUTY AND THE BEAST?!" Alfred shouted. "Um…" France slowly backed away. "Hehe…" "FRANCIS!" Well, at least the girl had a show to go with dinner as her Papa and "Uncle Alfie" bickered like children over Disney movies.... "Good ma Ange, now how do we approach the nice English man?" Francis was crouched down behind her on the table, and Arthur was standing there in front of her looking ever so slightly horrified at how badly Francis could have screwed her up in just a few months. But, she smiled, giggled, and pointed up at the Brit. "Mwama! Mwaman!" Arthur's eyes went white. "You. Did. Not." "Mwaman?" Her smile went down at Arthur's angry tone and look. "Um…" "Why the bloody hell would you teach her that?!" He shouted at her Papa, and made her run back behind France's hand. "Uh…I-I mean…" He blushed, sighed, and knelt down to look at her. "It's . . . It's only fine if YOU call me that, but nobody else can!" He shot a dark glare up at the French Frog, who had gone from smug to upset and back to smug again. Thank god the other countries weren't listening to this, he thought. "Mwaman!" She grinned again and hugged Arthur's hand, and then he had to pick her up because he was going red and dammit people were starting to stare now... "Yes, heheh…" Arthur smiled down at her, and when she wasn't looking glared up at Francis. "I prefer Arthur, but…" "Mwaman!" She repeated. "Maman," Francis teased, "Do not argue with your child!" "I've never had a Mwaman before!" She exclaimed. "I love you!" Arthur bit his tongue for the sake of the child in his hands.... Kylie woke up to another nightmare. But unlike the last few times, she didn't scream. She slid down to the floor, and crept out of her room. Her Papa was downstairs with her Oncles Gilbert and Antonio. All three were laughing giddily about something. She tried to climb up the chair leg using a little ladder her Papa made for her. When her Oncle Gilbert bumped her Papa, which caused her to fall straight into a cup of shallow red liquid. The smell instantly brought on memories of shop man. This was the stuff that made him turn into a monster. Then suddenly the cup was lifted and then tilted, causing Kylie to go into full out panic mode. She cleaned at the smooth material of the cup, trying to stop herself, but she was soon sucked into the dark abyss. He bent his neck nearly all the way back, tippling the cup so it was in direct alignment with his mouth. Francis then took his final mouthful and drained the remainder of the wine. The liquid flowed quickly into his mouth and once the cup against his lips was empty he swallowed it all in one hearty gulp. Upon drinking all of the contents within the cup, he removed his lips from the opening and gasped, having taken only three full swallows to complete his task. The journey for little Kylie was a turbulent one. With one swift and abrupt motion she tumbled into the cavernous stomach along with the mouthful of wine that she had arrived with. She coughed and sputtered as she righted herself. He found herself sitting in the bad liquid up to her belly. Her wide, terrified eyes widened up and gazed all around to take in her horrible new surroundings. It was incredibly dark. Kylie sniffled and sobbed weakly as she pounded frantically against the nearest wall she could find. "Pwapa!! Pwapa!!!" Kylie sobbed as she pounded against the strange walls of Francis's stomach. Kylie didn't understand what was happening. Why would her Papa do something like this to her? Oh how she desperately hoped that her Papa would release her soon. If this was some strange game that big things played on little things she didn't like it at all. It felt incredibly scary and unnatural. This was a place that no living being wanted, nor was meant to be. Some part of her knew this. She didn't understand what was happening in the slightest. She was terribly afraid. She trembled furiously as she listened to the deep breathing of the lungs above her and the powerful and intimidatingly loud heartbeats resounding above her. She whimpered and sobbed to herself as she began to itch at her side. As she whimpered wearily, the massive pink stomach began to churn and slosh beneath little Kylie. She yelped fearfully as the stomach contracted and churned around her, covering her little form in thick, itchy slime. A symphony of happy gurgles echoed within the pulsating chamber as little Kylie cried and screamed for help. "PWAPA!!" She cried as she was sloshed around. She was squeezed and churned ruthlessly by the happy digestive organ. Francis waved goodbye to Gilbert and Antonio as they stumbled out to Romano's car, the Italian scowling at the drunken Spainard and Prussian. With that a slight belch erupted from Frenchman's mouth. That was weird. Then he heard the happy gurgles coming from deep within his stomach. What did he eat? Then he heard the faint but frantic screams of his baby girl. His face went deathly white and he rushed to the bathroom when he felt his stomach churn in away that was never good. Kylie then felt herself being shot back up the same way that she had been sent down and fell with a plop of the edge of a bowl, and onto the floor. She looked up to see her Papa breathing heavily into the bowl. She then scrambled away from him, pulling herself under the bathroom cabinet, well out of reach. She started crying hysterically. "Kylie! Kylie?" France moved back as he finally heard her loud cries. Kylie, his baby, wasn't just bawling, she was wailing. In fear. Of HIM. France moved back again, gasping as his drunken brain finally got the memo of what he had just done. "Mon Dieu, Kylie!" He gasped, tears springing to his own eyes as his heart broke at the sound of her absolute terror. Dieu, she was terrified of him! No! It was his job to protect her! And what he had just done?! He had simply swallowed her like a piece of food! He had forgotten about his drinking session with Gilbert and Antonio quickly when he realized the situation. He began to knock and reach under the cabinet, this time in desperation. Kylie! I'm so, so sorry, mon bebe! Please, come out from under there!...Plaire, ma bebe!" She continued to wail, and he himself leaned against the cabinet door, slinking down to the ground and holding his face in his hands. The country of love's heart was split in two at the sounds of her terrified cries, and he too felt tears streaming down his face. It was stupid of him to bring anyone back here when she was still in the house. It was stupid of him to not go to Gilbert's or Antonio's place. It was stupid of him to get so drunk he couldn't think straight! It was stupid of him to even think of drinking in the first place when she was so young! He continued to kick himself, listening to her wails turn her throat raw until only the hiccups were left. France tried again, beer and wine be damned, "Kylie? Ma Cherie? Please…come out, I swear—I have sworn—that I will never, ever hurt you. Oh mon God Kylie, I'm so sorry!" She still shaking and hiccupping and terrified of the man outside her hiding spot. Still, she gathered enough voice to ask, "A-awre y-y-ywou stwill a m-m-mo-onstwer?" France wiped his wet face with a hand, voice quivering too. "N-no, sweetie. Your P-Papa—I-I'm not a monster. I'm sorry, Kylie, I'm so, so s-sorry…" Damn his drunken brain! He wanted to be able to think clearly on his own, not because her cries overpowered the effects of the consumed alcohol. She stood, hesitantly moving closer to the edge of the cabinet. Whimpers still escaped her lips as she slowly walked closer and closer to the light. "P-pwomise?" "I promise, bebe…" "Cr-crwoss ywour h-hweart an' hwope t-to dwie?" She stood at the edge now, shaking. "Stick a needle in my eye," He finished softly.
His voice was what made her come out. It wasn't a monster anymore—it was her Papa again. He was shirtless and on his knees in front of her with puffy red eyes, looking at her with pity and fear of rejection. She swayed on her feet, still crying but trying to stop. "…D-Dwaddy?" "Oh, mon bebe!" He wrapped her in his hands and drew her close, rocking her small body and shedding a few tears. France kissed her face and head multiple times, sitting back on his butt and rocking her from the floor. "Papa will never, never ever ever ever do zat again, oui? I am sorry, I am so,so so sorry!" The two remained in that position until he stopped crying, and pulled on a shirt before coming to sleep with her. The incident having been completely forgotten about.... France put the plate in front of her, smiling widely. "Now you can open your eyes, Kylie." She did. And she gasped—on the dining table were many presents, and all of her favorite foods, and all of her friends and family of countries. There was an empty seat behind her, meant for France, at the right edge of the table. And then there was Canada to her left, America beside him, and Seychelles to the right, and Britain beside her. She sometimes babysat, and she loved the small seashell jewelry gifts that she brought from her house sometimes. But, right in front of her, at the very end of the table, was a small birthday cake with three candles lit. "And now," France winked. "**It's your birthday, my dear," He sang. "Holding by one more year…This special day you turn three…May you live out your dreams! . . . Now make a wish and blow out your candles!" Francis picked her up and held her while she blew out the candles, and applause followed. "Thwis," she started, tearing up. "Nobwody's wever dwone thwis fwor me bwefwore!" "Well," France hugged her gently from behind and began to cut a slice, "It shall happen every year now, no matter how old you are. Je t’aime, ma cherie!" "Jee-twame, Pwapa!" She said in her French toddler accent, making everybody go "Aw!" "What did you wish for, beau?" Francis asked as he set the cake slice down scaled down for her in front of her, and started on more for everybody. "I dwidn't wiwsh fwor wanythwing!" "Huh?" Alfred looked almost offended. "I alrweady hwave evwerythwing I want!" She exclaimed. "A fwamily awnd a rweally rweally nwice Pwapa!" The entire family felt their hearts warm at that. It was a happy life indeed. That's why France had her sit in his lap instead of one of his ex-colonies...or England.