Family Ties [Part 60]
Title: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Portugal, Turkey, Russia, Ukraine, Quebec, France, Scotland and two surprises! Don't you just love surprises?
Rating: 12
Warnings: I am writing this at 1:45am. Forgive my spelling errors. Also more gratuitous French but it's Quebec so what can you do.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
This was not where Portugal wanted to be right now.
Granted, there were worse places. Like the bottom of the ocean, trapped in the wreckage of a boat with the waterlogged bodies of his allies and enemies. Or on the top of a hill holding a lightning rod during both a hurricane and a thunderstorm. Or attending a family gathering of both his own family and, god forbid, Arthur's. That had happened once and nobody had ever quite managed to get the stains off the ceiling.
Instead of all these things, he was sitting in a mildly comfortable room, watching the television with a mug of coffee in his hands, trying to find that comfortable spot he'd just lost on the very worn and old sofa. It wasn't like he could understand the TV either, since it was all in Turkish.
"Turquia, how much longer is this going to take?" the Iberian Nation called, leaning his head back to look through the open door to the kitchen. Turkey seemed to be making something for lunch, but it was all so alarmingly domestic that it made him uncomfortable. "Also, peace talks are supposed to mean not keeping me like some sort of prisoner."
"Why'd you have to put it like that?" the man answered gruffly, chopping something with increased aggression. "Look, I cut your phone privileges because Russia monitors all phone conversations going outside the NWO."
Portugal's disbelieving snort earned him a glare, but nothing more. "'Privileges', right. Can we just cut to the chase now? Are you out of the war or aren't you?"
The chopping stopped. After consideration, it started again, slower. "Maybe. Once that Greek brat stops planting bombs on my land."
"If you pull out he'll have no reason to."
"Bah, like that'll stop him."
A silence settled, the TV filling it with mindless noise. It was a news channel, Port registered absently from the professional blankness of the newsreader's face. Tanks exploding, tanks repelling shells, men marching in NWO uniform, dead bodies of WDF soldiers. One of them was young and blonde and wiry, lying with glassy green eyes staring at the sky and his lower body twisted all the way round the wrong way.
Portugal changed the channel.
"Negotiation's hard when you've got guys like Russia leering at you to stay." Turkey commented, handing Portugal a plate with some stuffed pita bread on it. Chicken, salad, some kind of sauce. He inspected it a while, until the other Nation grumbled. "I haven't poisoned it or anything. If I wanted to kill you I'd have done it when you were asleep, dumbass."
Gabriel's elbow just so happened to jostle Sadiq's when he took a bite out of the pita.
---
Smoke curled up into the sky, spread along the ground with the wind and choked the light out of the sun. Russia briefly wondered if this was hell, but then decided against it. It was too warm. Ukraine lay somewhere to his left. He knew she was alive; her ample chest made it easy to see she was breathing. But it was still smokey, and it was hardly healthy to be breathing this air.
Trying to sit up and help her revealed another problem. There was a very large chunk of metal straight across his chest. This wasn't helping with the breathing problems the smoke also brought along.
"Bonjour~!"
A dark shadow appeared through the already black smoke. "Who?"
"Quebec." came the irritable response, and his shoulder was kicked. Now he was aware of his injured shoulder, most likely dislocated. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he tried to focus his eyes on the boy.
"Sorry, I forgot."
"Guess the fall knocked your brains out, eh?" the young nation put his hands on his hips, looking around. "You've sure made a mess."
"You are the one that shot me out of the sky, da?"
"On the plus side, I didn't shoot you down over the ocean." Quebec pointed out. "I could 'ave, I saw you coming from there, but I didn't do it. Do you want to know why?"
Russia had seen that smile on Canada's face before at hockey matches. It usually accompanied losing a few teeth. He didn't answer. Quebec barely waited for one anyway.
"Because it'll be my pleasure to give you a taste of your own medicine."
---
This was not what France had been expecting to emerge from the black cars that had followed his tracking signal. Humans in suits that he didn't know or recognise, maybe. Plain clothes police officers, perhaps. He was expecting a lot of things, but not this.
"Poland, can you please stop braiding my hair?" France asked tiredly for the third time in an hour. The other blonde was humming something cheerful, with France's head in his lap since the injured Nation was having issues sitting up, fiddling with the blonde curls absently. Lithuania gave a sheepish chuckle.
"I'm sorry about that, he's gone off into his world again." Brown hair brushed his shoulders, when he turned to glance into the back seat of the car, then went back to staring at the road. "He'll be back in an hour or so. It was probably the shock of seeing your injuries, Mister France."
Scotland looked uncomfortable in the passenger seat, and it wasn't just because it was still a little more than bloodstained from when his lover was occupying it. "Look, Lithuania or whatever, can't we just not go back to headquarters?"
The brunette bit his lip. "It doesn't work like that." Dark green eyes darted to the back seat again. He lowered his tone. "Poland's not himself and Russia's the reason. I need to stick around him and find out why. Besides which he's also got my brothers somewhere and I... and so I'm following orders. For now. Sorry." A short moment later he added. "How did you break out of it?" A confused look and he elaborated. "The mental control that Russia's got on Poland too. Last I saw you, you were the same as him, only permanently."
"I was... braidin' France's hair?" Scotland pulled a face. Lithuania gave an involuntary snort of laughter that quickly died.
"No no, I mean you weren't really awake. The lights in your eyes weren't on. You were very loyal to Russia's command." he explained, and with his eyes on the road couldn't see James' eyes grow wider and wider. "Poland gets the same, when there's something too horrible in front of him. He gets like that."
"I... what?!" the red head's voice rose, and Poland stopped humming to look up as though annoyed he'd been interrupted. Once the silence carried on for a moment, he resumed his tune. An old folk song it appeared.
"Mon cher..." France spoke up, making Scotland turn in his seat to look at him. "You don't even know what month it is any more do you."
"Uh... May?"
"It's October 25th 2021, duh." Poland chirped suddenly, and then went back to ignoring everyone. Scotland's mouth hung open, speechless.
"Poland doesn't remember anything from his odd hours either." Lithuania said gently, trying to soften the blow of the news. "But he's very suggestible. Particularly with Russia. But only when he's having an odd hour. It's like they tried to do what they did to you and it didn't quite... work as well."
Pregnant silence settled.
"Tell me everything."
"James..." France started, but the taller Nation cut him off.
"I want to know. I deserve to know. What did I do? What's been happening." A glare at Lithuania. "If you can't let us go, at least tell me that."
"I'll tell you." insisted France, though he didn't look happy about it. "I'll start from the point you forgot. But please, James, don't get too angry at me for my actions. This is all my fault."
"It's not-"
"It is!" the Frenchman's volume was much louder than anyone in the car had expected, much less France himself. After calming himself, he continued. "Just let me tell you, and don't interrupt."
Notes:
- Longer, since I'm going to France for when the next chapter is meant to be up and won't be back until Thursday evening.
- I'm almost amused by the fact that everyone expects me to have done something horrible to characters when they vanish for a short time. Look, I didn't break Port! :D
- Pita bread is yummy and if you have never had a Donner Kebab you are deprived.
- Estonia refused to create any more of that happy fun joy joy stuff that Russia used on Scotland. Poland is Russia's botched attempt to replicate Estonia's master work.
Q and A post is up! Go ask questions!
Part 61
Characters (in this chapter): Portugal, Turkey, Russia, Ukraine, Quebec, France, Scotland and two surprises! Don't you just love surprises?
Rating: 12
Warnings: I am writing this at 1:45am. Forgive my spelling errors. Also more gratuitous French but it's Quebec so what can you do.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
This was not where Portugal wanted to be right now.
Granted, there were worse places. Like the bottom of the ocean, trapped in the wreckage of a boat with the waterlogged bodies of his allies and enemies. Or on the top of a hill holding a lightning rod during both a hurricane and a thunderstorm. Or attending a family gathering of both his own family and, god forbid, Arthur's. That had happened once and nobody had ever quite managed to get the stains off the ceiling.
Instead of all these things, he was sitting in a mildly comfortable room, watching the television with a mug of coffee in his hands, trying to find that comfortable spot he'd just lost on the very worn and old sofa. It wasn't like he could understand the TV either, since it was all in Turkish.
"Turquia, how much longer is this going to take?" the Iberian Nation called, leaning his head back to look through the open door to the kitchen. Turkey seemed to be making something for lunch, but it was all so alarmingly domestic that it made him uncomfortable. "Also, peace talks are supposed to mean not keeping me like some sort of prisoner."
"Why'd you have to put it like that?" the man answered gruffly, chopping something with increased aggression. "Look, I cut your phone privileges because Russia monitors all phone conversations going outside the NWO."
Portugal's disbelieving snort earned him a glare, but nothing more. "'Privileges', right. Can we just cut to the chase now? Are you out of the war or aren't you?"
The chopping stopped. After consideration, it started again, slower. "Maybe. Once that Greek brat stops planting bombs on my land."
"If you pull out he'll have no reason to."
"Bah, like that'll stop him."
A silence settled, the TV filling it with mindless noise. It was a news channel, Port registered absently from the professional blankness of the newsreader's face. Tanks exploding, tanks repelling shells, men marching in NWO uniform, dead bodies of WDF soldiers. One of them was young and blonde and wiry, lying with glassy green eyes staring at the sky and his lower body twisted all the way round the wrong way.
Portugal changed the channel.
"Negotiation's hard when you've got guys like Russia leering at you to stay." Turkey commented, handing Portugal a plate with some stuffed pita bread on it. Chicken, salad, some kind of sauce. He inspected it a while, until the other Nation grumbled. "I haven't poisoned it or anything. If I wanted to kill you I'd have done it when you were asleep, dumbass."
Gabriel's elbow just so happened to jostle Sadiq's when he took a bite out of the pita.
---
Smoke curled up into the sky, spread along the ground with the wind and choked the light out of the sun. Russia briefly wondered if this was hell, but then decided against it. It was too warm. Ukraine lay somewhere to his left. He knew she was alive; her ample chest made it easy to see she was breathing. But it was still smokey, and it was hardly healthy to be breathing this air.
Trying to sit up and help her revealed another problem. There was a very large chunk of metal straight across his chest. This wasn't helping with the breathing problems the smoke also brought along.
"Bonjour~!"
A dark shadow appeared through the already black smoke. "Who?"
"Quebec." came the irritable response, and his shoulder was kicked. Now he was aware of his injured shoulder, most likely dislocated. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he tried to focus his eyes on the boy.
"Sorry, I forgot."
"Guess the fall knocked your brains out, eh?" the young nation put his hands on his hips, looking around. "You've sure made a mess."
"You are the one that shot me out of the sky, da?"
"On the plus side, I didn't shoot you down over the ocean." Quebec pointed out. "I could 'ave, I saw you coming from there, but I didn't do it. Do you want to know why?"
Russia had seen that smile on Canada's face before at hockey matches. It usually accompanied losing a few teeth. He didn't answer. Quebec barely waited for one anyway.
"Because it'll be my pleasure to give you a taste of your own medicine."
---
This was not what France had been expecting to emerge from the black cars that had followed his tracking signal. Humans in suits that he didn't know or recognise, maybe. Plain clothes police officers, perhaps. He was expecting a lot of things, but not this.
"Poland, can you please stop braiding my hair?" France asked tiredly for the third time in an hour. The other blonde was humming something cheerful, with France's head in his lap since the injured Nation was having issues sitting up, fiddling with the blonde curls absently. Lithuania gave a sheepish chuckle.
"I'm sorry about that, he's gone off into his world again." Brown hair brushed his shoulders, when he turned to glance into the back seat of the car, then went back to staring at the road. "He'll be back in an hour or so. It was probably the shock of seeing your injuries, Mister France."
Scotland looked uncomfortable in the passenger seat, and it wasn't just because it was still a little more than bloodstained from when his lover was occupying it. "Look, Lithuania or whatever, can't we just not go back to headquarters?"
The brunette bit his lip. "It doesn't work like that." Dark green eyes darted to the back seat again. He lowered his tone. "Poland's not himself and Russia's the reason. I need to stick around him and find out why. Besides which he's also got my brothers somewhere and I... and so I'm following orders. For now. Sorry." A short moment later he added. "How did you break out of it?" A confused look and he elaborated. "The mental control that Russia's got on Poland too. Last I saw you, you were the same as him, only permanently."
"I was... braidin' France's hair?" Scotland pulled a face. Lithuania gave an involuntary snort of laughter that quickly died.
"No no, I mean you weren't really awake. The lights in your eyes weren't on. You were very loyal to Russia's command." he explained, and with his eyes on the road couldn't see James' eyes grow wider and wider. "Poland gets the same, when there's something too horrible in front of him. He gets like that."
"I... what?!" the red head's voice rose, and Poland stopped humming to look up as though annoyed he'd been interrupted. Once the silence carried on for a moment, he resumed his tune. An old folk song it appeared.
"Mon cher..." France spoke up, making Scotland turn in his seat to look at him. "You don't even know what month it is any more do you."
"Uh... May?"
"It's October 25th 2021, duh." Poland chirped suddenly, and then went back to ignoring everyone. Scotland's mouth hung open, speechless.
"Poland doesn't remember anything from his odd hours either." Lithuania said gently, trying to soften the blow of the news. "But he's very suggestible. Particularly with Russia. But only when he's having an odd hour. It's like they tried to do what they did to you and it didn't quite... work as well."
Pregnant silence settled.
"Tell me everything."
"James..." France started, but the taller Nation cut him off.
"I want to know. I deserve to know. What did I do? What's been happening." A glare at Lithuania. "If you can't let us go, at least tell me that."
"I'll tell you." insisted France, though he didn't look happy about it. "I'll start from the point you forgot. But please, James, don't get too angry at me for my actions. This is all my fault."
"It's not-"
"It is!" the Frenchman's volume was much louder than anyone in the car had expected, much less France himself. After calming himself, he continued. "Just let me tell you, and don't interrupt."
Notes:
- Longer, since I'm going to France for when the next chapter is meant to be up and won't be back until Thursday evening.
- I'm almost amused by the fact that everyone expects me to have done something horrible to characters when they vanish for a short time. Look, I didn't break Port! :D
- Pita bread is yummy and if you have never had a Donner Kebab you are deprived.
- Estonia refused to create any more of that happy fun joy joy stuff that Russia used on Scotland. Poland is Russia's botched attempt to replicate Estonia's master work.
Q and A post is up! Go ask questions!
Part 61