Lost. Chapter 29

Lost. Chapter 29.


Thank you to The-Last-Dragon (On dA) for beta-ing this chapter for me!


~//~


Antonio had easily located the basement as Feliciano had ordered him to do. Unlike what he had though, the door looked completely normal. He had been expecting a big metal door with a skull and crossbones on the front. He opened the door and peered down the dark flight of stairs descending into a pitch black room. Antonio gulped and carefully descended the stairs. He was terrified at what he might find but it frightened him to think that Francis was down here, all alone and possibly wounded. He was horrified of what condition he might find his friend in. He was afraid of the basement already and he wasn't even the one who was captured. He knew that if he was in Francis' position, he would be petrified.



He reached the bottom of the stairs. At last, the eerie creaks stopped and silence filled the cold room. The Spaniard's heart was hammering in his throat. He felt sick to his stomach with dread and fear. Despite the damp, cool temperatures, sweat rolled down his forehead. He stuck his arms out and felt around the wall for a light switch, as his eyes have not yet adjusted to the choking darkness. He flipped the switch and a single light bulb in the middle of the large room, lit up. The dim light spread across the room, the edges of the room still hidden by shadows. Antonio gulped yet again at the atmosphere of the room. He stepped into the room, looking for his friend.


Whoever had owned this house must have used the basement as a spare room. The bucket that Feliciano had mentioned earlier stood on the floor idly by a sink and cabinet.  Antonio bent to pick the bucket up and quickly covered his mouth as a rank stench filled his nose. He remembered what his task was and he suddenly dreaded it. He was supposed to fill the bucket with water and make Francis drink from it. He decided he could try washing it out and see if that would eliminate some of the stench. He brought the bucket over to the sink and washed it out a couple times. When he was finished, the bucket still stank but compared to earlier, it was much cleaner.



Antonio filled part of the bucket with water and looked around for Francis. He had heard no noises other than the noises he had made. He was starting to doubt that Francis was in the room. The single bulb didn't provide enough light to reach the sides so Francis was probably on the outside of the room. Putting the bucket down, Antonio went to search for Francis, not held down by the buckets.


When the Spaniard finally found the Frenchman, he was horrified to see him. His friend was chained to the wall with his arms above his head like a person in a medieval dungeon. His head hung down over his chest and his blond locks covered his eyes limply. Everything about the Frenchman suggested that he was weak and had no hope. Antonio's heart broke to see his friend in such a condition. He gently crouched down in front of Francis. He hesitated for a moment, looking at his face, half hidden by his hair. Gentle hands cupped both of the Frenchman's face gently and tilted his head up.


"Francis?" Antonio asked softly. He patted his cheek softly, not wanting to startle him awake. The Frenchman's eyes cracked open. His usual bright blue eyes looked dull and empty. He blinked them a few times before his gaze rested on Antonio. His eyebrows furrowed together slightly in confusion. He had been expecting to see Feliciano or one of the guards in front of them; smirking at God knows what they were going to do to him. He was surprised to see Antonio and wondered what he was doing in this God forsaken place.


"Toni?" he croaked, his throat dry. Antonio smiled gently and nodded at the man.


"Si, Francis. It's me." Antonio murmured quietly. He removed his hands from his friend's face who smiled slightly at him. "I'm pretending to be on their side."


Francis frowned lightly. "Why? Isn't Romano already doing that?" he asked confused. Part of him was suddenly concerned for the older Italian but then the other part of him knew that if anything had happened to him, Antonio would not be so calm. Antonio nodded wholeheartedly.


"Si, si! I was just worried for my tomato." He explained. He appeared to be off in some other place for a moment at the mention of the Italian. Francis wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not but he didn't want to pull him away. Antonio blinked quickly, snapping out of his thoughts. He frowned quietly. "Lo siento, mi amigo but Feliciano has ordered me to make sure you drink."


"Why are you apologizing?" Francis asked confused. Isn't drinking water a good thing? He was extremely thirsty and his throat was scratchy. Antonio frowned, which was becoming more and more common to see on his usual cheery face.


"You'll see soon enough." He explained. He got to his feet and retrieved the bucket. Francis' face wrinkled at the odor when Antonio set the bucket down nearby.


"Oui, I do see what you mean now." He muttered. Antonio frowned and nodded quietly. He brought the bucket to Francis' lips and tilted it until the water was able to be poured into his mouth, small amounts at a time. Despite the smell, Francis drank thirstily though he would shiver in disgust whenever he was finished swallowing. Antonio smiled sympathetically for the man. He could see he hated the water, yet he was desperate enough to drink it. He wanted to get the man out of here so bad. It could be so easy; all he had was get him out of the chains somehow and sneak him out of the house. Yet he knew that would completely blow his cover and get him and possibly Romano killed which he could never ever risk.


On a more realistic matter, he could see the Frenchman had so many questions swimming around in his head that he wanted to ask the Spaniard. He waited until he was finished with the water and looked into the Spaniard's green eyes with such a confused and almost hesitant look that Antonio felt so bad for him.


"The Bad Touch Trio will be back together soon enough." Antonio told him gently. Francis chuckled ever so slightly, the earlier look in his eyes fading. His blue eyes lit up momentarily at the thought of Antonio, Gilbert and himself being able to laugh and get drunk and do dumb things like they used to.


"Do you remember those days?" he asked, hopefully. He liked this Antonio just fine; he acted pretty much the same and was still as considerate. But it still wasn't their Antonio and he didn't have his memories. He wanted to know his friend was ok. He knew the Spaniard was frustrated with his lack of memory; he wanted to remember his friends, the good old days and most importantly, he wanted to remember his Lovino.


Antonio frowned. He considered lying to the Frenchman just to make him happy but he didn't have the heart to do so. He deserved to know the truth for one small little thing in this place of secrets and lies. He shook his head sadly, "No. Lo siento."


Francis frowned but pressed a small smile to his face in hopes of cheering the Spaniard up. All of the events were starting to take its toll on all of the countries. Francis still had a question burning on his mind. He hesitated, wondering if it would be insensitive of him but deciding that it would change the subject to something maybe not as personal to the Spaniard.



"How is Arthur? He isn't hurt is he?" Francis asked, his voice barely a whisper. Antonio knew it must have been torture for him to be locked up in this place so far away from Arthur. The poor Brit had been heartbroken and a shell of his former self ever since Alfred's death. The Frenchman had been his safe haven in his hell. Without the Frenchman, he was much more miserable and broken. The way they both cared about each other reminded Antonio of himself and Romano.



A kind smile tugged at Antonio's lips. He wanted to put the Frenchman's worries at ease, "Arthur is safe and unharmed," Antonio told Francis who relaxed at his words. It was nice to hear good news for a change, "He is only worried for you. He has been devastated since you were taken, but he will be ok until you get back; he will wait for you. He can't stand the thought that you might be dead."


Francis looked up at the Spaniard. His blue eyes got a spark back into him and his mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. "Really?" he asked. He looked much more lively then he had been when Antonio first saw him.



Antonio nodded enthusiastically. "Si! Si! He is very worried for you and has done nothing but think about you and worry about you." He told the Frenchman with a smile. Francis' eyes softened at the thought of the Englishman and he smiled longingly. He wished he could be with him now. He wanted to be able to wrap his arms around the Brit and pull him close and tell him without doubt that everything would be alright. Yet he couldn't do any of that. He was stuck in this pit, probably many miles apart, and he couldn't promise the Brit that things would be ok when they both knew that they wouldn't.


"I wish I could be with him now…" he sighed quietly. Antonio frowned and patted his friend's shoulder. They all had things they wanted to do and people they wanted to see but both were trapped in their own prison in some way.  



"I know, my friend, I know." Antonio sighed sympathetically, "I'll try to get you out of here soon so you can go back and see Arthur." He hoped the Frenchman understood just how much he was missed. If only Arthur was here. He would be able to make Francis so much happier and hopeful.


A silence stretched out between them, both men lost in their own thoughts and fantasies; Francis holding Arthur close and Antonio taking Lovino far away from the emotional torture. The events that led up to everything seemed to hold them back and the events that were to come seemed to loom over their heads dangerously. After what seems like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Francis looked over at Antonio.


"How is everyone else? Did anyone get hurt?" he asked, dreading the answer. It seemed unlikely that he would be the only one hurt. Feliciano had his plot all carefully planned out; he wouldn't just execute a plan like that without having something else planned other than capturing Francis.


Antonio frowned and sighed quietly. He was dreading to tell the blond about the other events. "I don't know how much you know from when you were kidnapped but that raid was successful in capturing you and killing Ivan." Antonio continued to share the details with Francis, his eyes widening with each new detail. Neither of them knew about the horrifying plane crash. The news of the raid alone was enough to leave them both silent in shock. Their two biggest allies were now dead. Both had died so easily that it was nearly unreal.


Antonio realized how long he had been down in the basement and sighed. It was horrible timing after the discussion of the Russians death but he was on probation; he didn't want to give Feliciano a hint to what his real plan was. He sighed quietly and looked at Francis apologetically, "Lo siento, but I have to go."


Francis nodded understandingly and gave the Spaniard a weakly smile. "Thank you for the water and the company."


Antonio nodded quietly and rose to his feet, taking the bucket with him. "I'll try to come back soon. Just try to hang in there, Francy-pants." He said, hoping the nickname would cheer him up slightly. Francis smiled softly and nodded. Antonio quickly went back to where the bucket was and left it where he found it. He climbed back up the stairs, back into the light. He emerged on the first floor and shut the door again, feeling guilty for leaving him down there once again. Hopefully, he found some peace after hearing of Arthur's safety.


He found his way back upstairs. He wanted to go see his Lovi. He quietly pushed the door open to the Italians room and poked his head inside, a small, affectionate smile covering his face. His emerald eyes shined with excitement as he looked into the room. He felt like he had been separated from the Italian for ages. He was so excited to see him again and see that he was ok. He found Romano sitting on the bed with his back to him. He quietly snuck up behind the Italian. He wrapped his arms around the Italian's slender waist and pulled him close. He buried his head into the crook of the Italians neck. Romano stiffened and jumped up. Antonio's arms fell to his side and he quickly rose to his feet to meet Romano's angry glare.


"What the hell, bastard!?" Romano snapped angrily. He tried to glare at the Spaniard but his amber eyes were moist. Antonio froze, his heart skipping a beat when he noticed a red, hand shaped mark on his face.


"Lovi…" he began, his voice quiet. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the Italians cheek. Had Feliciano hit Lovino? When the realization occurred to him, Antonio suddenly felt horrible that it was his fault. Because he had suddenly appeared to help Lovino, he had instead gotten the Italian slapped. And by the looks of it, he had been crying which made him feel horrible. He had seen him cry plenty of times but this time was different. "Lo sie…"


He was cut off by a shove, "How could you try such a stupid idea! You could have ruined the whole plan!" Romano hissed angrily, keeping his voice low as to not cause attention. His voice was choked with emotion as he whispered the next sentence, "You could have gotten yourself killed!" The Italians shoulders were heaving slightly and his face was red with either anger or fear. He could still see the image of Antonio at the bottom of the pool in his vision and it haunted him. Antonio frowned and quickly pulled the Italian into a hug.



His worry quickly escalates when Romano doesn't push back or yell at him like he normally does. Instead, he leaned into his touch and hugged back ever so slightly. Antonio quickly pulled him into an even tighter hug, wrapping his arms around the brunette and brushed the back of his hair softly.



"Shh…Lovino, its ok." He said. They hugged for a few more moments before Antonio pulled back, keeping his hands on Lovino's shoulder. Romano kept his gaze low to the ground. Seeing the Italian like this was painful to see. He wanted his tomato to go back to his normal self; fighting everything and cussing and shoving. He reached out tentatively to stroke his red cheek but when Romano flinched away from his touch, he drew his hand away, "Did he hit you?" he whispered sadly.


Keeping his gaze lowered to the ground, Romano nodded solemnly. Antonio reached up to cup the opposite cheek softly. "Oh Lovi…" he whispered softly. He couldn't stand to see Romano like this. He wanted to see Romano yelling and screaming and throwing a tantrum. Seeing Romano so quiet and frightened is so unlike him. He hated to see the one person who had been strong for him when he needed him so scared. He wanted to be there for him just like Romano was there for him but it was nearly impossible. This wasn't something he could fix by himself. Yet again, Romano hadn't been able to make his memories come back yet he had done so much for him by just being so supportive. He was just hoping that he could maybe make things a little easier to deal with for Romano.


He couldn't help but pull the Italian into another hug. He didn't know what else to do to comfort him. Romano clung to the Spaniards clothing, taking fistfuls of it. Despite wanting to be strong, Romano couldn't stay strong forever. He was too stressed and too worried. He might not show his emotions too often but he cared for his brother a lot more than people would think. He was terrified to think about what would happen to his brother. No one stayed in power for too long; they always fell out of power, often falling even lower than they had been before their power. His brother had been the cause of two countries death, not to mention uncounted civilian deaths. He was so afraid of what would happen to him. Feliciano was his little brother. Everyone might have liked Feliciano more than him but that wasn't Feliciano's fault. He had always tried to be supportive for Romano and would try to help Romano whenever he got into a problem or felt low. Romano wanted to be strong for his brother like he had when he needed him in the past. Feliciano didn't realize it yet, but he needed Romano. Yet Romano couldn't be strong all the time when one of the closest people to him was marching into his own grave.


Sobs started erupting from the Italian at that thought. He hated crying in front of people but he couldn't help it. He had almost lost Antonio and he was probably going to lose Feliciano. He could just imagine Feliciano's tomb stone sticking out from the ground; fresh soil mounted on top and no one but him, Antonio and maybe Ludwig to visit it, though he doubted the German would visit the Italians grave after all of this.


Antonio held the trembling Italian closer to him. He couldn't stand to hear him cry. Romano clung to his shirt and buried his face into the fabric. Antonio wrapped an arm around his back and around the back of his head. He gently cooed to him, "Shh…Lovi, it's ok. It's ok." He whispered. His shirt was quickly soaked with salty tears as Romano sobbed quietly into his shirt.


Romano didn't calm down until a few minutes later. He kept his face buried in Antonio's shirt, ashamed of his tears. "I-I thought that if I showed Feliciano that I was loyal to him, that he would change his mind. I was hoping he would go back to his old self!" he whimpered, his voice thick with tears, "I don't want my sweet, little fratello to die!" He knew his fratello wasn't sweet or little anymore. He was blood thirsty and bigger than Romano had ever been.


Antonio frowned. Feliciano was completely blind by how his plan was eating away at Romano. Yet again, this wasn't the old Feliciano who took other people's feelings into consideration. Feliciano had changed and became someone totally new. But if he had changed into someone bad, he could also change back into the person he used to be, though it would be harder. It was easier to hate then it was to love, "It'll be ok." He murmured softly to him, gently kissing the side of his head. "Feli just needs time to realize what he has done. Feliciano is not completely as heartless as he makes himself out to be. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have let me join. He'll come back eventually and I'm sure we can convince the others to let him go. Just don't give up on him, Lovi."



Romano leaned away eventually and wiped the tears from his eyes angrily. His face was even redder than usual and his face was streaked with tears. Antonio gently took his hand and pulled them away from his face.


"Do not be ashamed of your tears. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He whispered softly, staring into the Italians eyes with an unflinching gaze. He gently reached out and wiped the tears away with a loving hand. Once all the tears were gone, he leaned forward and placed a feather soft kiss on the corners of his eyes. Romano frowned and looked away.



"Yes I do." He murmured quietly, his voice dull. "I need to be strong and be a good big brother to Feliciano for once in my life. He may say he's ok but he needs me more than ever and here I am being a baby and crying." He said angrily to himself, "I'm tired of people taking care of me. I want to save my fratello…even though it's probably too late. He's done horrible things…" he murmured miserably, as if in a daze.


Antonio lightly pulled on his arms and brought him into another hug. "It'll be ok, my tomato." He whispered. Unlike the last times, Romano didn't hug back and his arms hung loosely by his side.


"Please stop…I'm not in the mood anymore." He whispered quietly. There was something about his tone that made Antonio stop right away. He wasn't demanding or begging. He just simply stated in such a way that made Antonio stop right away. He hated to see the Italian in such a state. He complied and pulled away. He gently cupped his cheek, brushing his soft, damp skin with his thumb.


"Lo siento, Lovino." He whispered softly, "You should get some sleep. You'll feel much better."


Romano nodded silently and went to the bed, crawling under the sheets. Seeing the Italian looking so young, curled under the sheets of the bed, pulled at his brain; like déjà vu. He had heard that he had taken care of Romano as a child but seeing him act like this made the memories seem closer. He smiled ever so slightly. He quietly tucked him in, pausing to stroke his dark brown hair lovingly.


"Everything will be ok, Lovi…" he whispered softly as the man closed his eyes "Just don't lose yourself." He bent down to kiss his forehead gently before walking away. He was about to close the door when Romano's voice stopped him.


"Hey bastard…" Romano mumbled quietly. Antonio stopped and looked back curiously. Lovino hesitated for a moment, his golden eyes connecting with the Spaniard's green eyes. Despite his initial anger, he was glad the Spaniard did what he did. It was so much better already with him around. He didn't have to worry about if he was ok in America because he would be beside him the entire time, "Gracias."


Antonio smiled affectionately at the Italian. He knew Romano had a deeper side to him then the anger and irritation he showed on the outside. If only other people made the effort to get to know that side of him and they would surely understand why he adored the Italian more than anyone or thing, "Anything for you, Lovi." He whispered softly, "Anything for you."


~//~


A/N: OMG! I am so sorry for being so late. I wish I had a good reason for you but I really don't. Dx. I'm really sorry to keep you waiting. I reread a few of the reviews and you guys helped me with my writers block so much! Thank you!! <3 I hope this chapter is good for you. I spent so much time editing this to make it perfect; I listened to my new Falling In Reverse CD twice. The action is starting to get good from here so please don't give up on me! I don't have the story quite planned out yet but I promise there is a lot more action. And by the way, there are probably going to be another ten maybe fifteen chapters. I'm not sure if I want to do a sequel anymore. I think that would be even longer and on the 29th of this month, I would have been writing this story for a year.  0.0 I've never been into a show for this long and for some reason, it kind of scares me.