Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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A Native of my lands, I can’t remember which tribe, but he snuck into our camp tonight. I had noticed him first, and I tried to get him to leave. But then, Vincent noticed, and he was drunk as Hell. Waved his pistol around, I tried to protect the kid. He wasn’t even that old… Vincent threatened to shoot me. Gave me to the count of 5. But I wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t y’know? This kid… He was just looking for food for his family… Their all getting driven from their homes because of the Western expansion, getting kicked out of their homes… I wanted to protect him…
The boy, he touched my arm… Told me it was okay… He called me. What was it? I guess it would translate as “he who is one with the land”. I mean I know that probably sounds silly. But the word he used, they use to call me that. Some of the tribes… Before all of you came… He knew I was a Nation Francis. He knew that all this land belonged to me. He knew who I was… He pushed me out of the way… Vincent killed him and all I did was watch…
Why did it have to happen? What did the tribes do wrong Francis? Why do they have to be kicked out of their homes? Killed?
Why didn’t I do something? Why did I just sit back?
“Al? Hey, you alright?” Alfred sniffed, loudly despite himself, folding up the worn letter to Francis, tucking it in his pocket, before rubbing his eyes.
“Ye-Yeah, I’m fine!”
“If your fine, why are you cryin’?” Paul stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. He snorted then, leaning down and grabbing Alfred’s arm, hauling him to his feet. “C’mon you cry-baby. Molly wants you.”
“I’m not a cry-baby!”
“Says the guy who’s crying his head off over a stranger.” Paul retorted with a roll of his eyes. Alfred opened his mouth to snap, but another tug caught his attention. Annie was there, tugging at his shirt, holding up her doll once she got his attention.
“Papa gave this to me when my puppy died and I wouldn’t stop crying. Hugging Ms. Dotty always makes me feel better!”
“Ah, n-no it’s fine,” he flushed embarrassed now. A small scowl formed as she planted her hands on her hips
“Big brother-”
“M’fine Annie.” He ruffled her hair with one hand, using the other to wipe his eyes. “Just… I’m fine…”
“Did big brother know him?”
“He was an Indian Annie, Al’s never met him.” Alfred shot him an annoyed look at the tone of Paul’s voice. The other ignored it. “’sides the guy got what was comin’ to him!”
“He was looking for food!”
“He snuck into our camp Al. You’ve heard the stories too. His kinds been startin’ fights, killin’ settlers.”
“You’d be fightin’ if people were kicking you out of your homes!” Alfred snapped before he could even stop himself. Both his friends stared at him. The young Nation looked away silently, hands in tight fists. “It’s not fair.”
“Life ain’t fair.”
“I know that…”
“If you know that, stop cryin’.”
“I can’t help it okay!?” They didn’t understand how he felt. They could never. He could feel the pain of his people, both the settlers and the Natives. He could feel it all. And worst of all. He knew that he could have been able to stop their pain… But he had chosen to remain quiet. He had let others make the decisions; he had fooled himself into thinking they were for the best. But they weren’t. It was cruel…
Little arms wrapped around his waist. It was then Alfred realized the tears had begun to fall harder and harder. His knees felt weak, giving out moments later. Little Annie moved her arms from his waist to his shoulders, Alfred hiding his face in her tiny shoulder as he sobbed. It was reversed, part of him thought. Annie should be the one sobbing, and he comforting her. After all, he was the older one… She was just a little girl. She was the one who was supposed to cry. He was supposed to be brave; he was supposed to be the one not to cry.
But here he was, sobbing hysterically for a boy he had met for no more than a minute, in the arms of a brave, strong little girl.
Alfred felt ashamed.
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Thanks for your hard work. I look forward to when they reach the west. XDDDDD
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I don’t understand! Why Francis!? She’s-
“So here ya are,” Alfred looked up numbly, the words on the worn letter barely readable. He could hardly see Bill, who stood in front of him, through his tears. Bill’s face was solemn as he offered his hand to Alfred. “’lil ladies lookin’ for you.”
“Bill… She-”
“Won’t be around much longer,” the man stated, another small sob escaping Alfred. He looked down, not wanting to face what was happening. It was all just a dream, just a horrible, horrible, nightmare. He’d wake up soon. Everything would be alright. It was just-
No, it wasn’t a dream. Annie was dying…
“C’mon, stop hidin’.” Bill’s tone was soft, but Alfred could still hear the command. He took the offered hand, allowing himself to be lead to where the little girl was.
She had been bitten by a rattler. Alfred had tried to convince himself that she’d be alright. They all did. But she wouldn’t be alright. She wouldn’t make it to the town, where they could find her medicine…
Alfred should have been watching her. That’s what Becca had screamed. Annie was always hanging around Alfred, so he should’ve been watching her. He should have protected her. Becca was right. Alfred should have been able to save her. He should have been keeping his eyes on the little girl. But he had been distracted by something else at the time. He and Paul had been practicing what Bill told them was ‘quick-draw’. He hadn’t been paying attention to the little girl, not until she screamed. And by then it was too late…
He was terrified to face the others. He was terrified to face Annie. It was why he had been hiding. Generally, Annie was the one that found him. He had just assumed no one would be able to find him this time…
“Annie told you… Where to find me didn’t she?” She always did. Even if Paul would be with her, the other teenager had admitted Annie would be the one to figure out where Alfred was hiding. Bill merely nodded as they reached where she was. And Alfred had to fight back another sob.
The little ball of energy he had come to know was lying, deathly still. Her parents were by her side (Alfred flinching under the harsh, hateful glare of Becca). Ruben was there too, changing the damp cloth on the little girl’s feverish brow.
Annie shouldn’t be that pale, he thought mutely. He knew that shade of pale. He had seen in more times then he would have liked, and he knew he would see it again in the future. He remembered the faces of man, of boys, on the battlefield. They had all been that shade before dying. But Annie couldn’t die… She would get up any second now. She would ask Bill to show her how to make a horse trot, Alfred how to spell a word, Paul for a piggy back ride. She would argue with Vincent, kick him in the shins, be reprimanded by Becca. She would ask Ken for a story, she’d try to help Molly cook, she would run to Ruben asking him which plant did what.
She would run around… She would do anything. Anything.
But she couldn’t. Annie couldn’t…
“Big brother?” God, even her voice sounded so fragile. Alfred hesitated, before taking a step forward. He was grateful when he saw Ken lead his wife away (though he once again felt her harsh, hateful glare). He was even more grateful when Bill whispered something to Ruben, the other man giving a simple nod before rising to his feet. In a mere second, it was only Alfred and Annie. He knelt down besides her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was clammy, but it felt like it was on fire. She was still smiling at him, weakly squeezing his hand with hers. He tried to smile back, but it was shaky.
“He-Hey, I’m right here.”
“Don’t… go away…”
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Alfred had seen people die before. He had held soldiers hands, just like he was now. He had lost friends before. But this was so different. Annie wasn’t dying because of a war. Because of a battle. She was dying because she had been bitten. Because he hadn’t been watching her. Because he hadn’t been protecting her…
“I wrote… you a letter…”
“Annie, you don’t have to talk.” Maybe if she saver her strength… Maybe…
“Ms. Dotty has it,” he glanced at the doll that sat beside her, a folded piece of paper in its lap. His name scrawled across it in her childish hand writing. “Will you… take care of her?”
“Sure thing Annie…”
“And Mama and Papa?”
“I’ll watch over them,” he whispered, brushing sweaty bangs from her eyes. He would watch over them all, he had that ability. As a Nation, he lived as long as his lands were inhabitant. He watched over his people, watching as they grew and died. It was a cycle that would repeat itself, he knew that very well. So he would watch over Becca and Ken, just as Annie requested. But then again, even if he wasn’t a Nation. If he was just simply Alfred Jones, he would still watch over them…
Her little hand squeezed his again. Using his free hand, he wiped his tears away, gazing down at her. Annie was staring up at him, her eyes wide. Just like when they had first met…
“Big brother… Who… Who are you really?” She asked, still staring in awe. “Wha… What’s your real… name?”
For a moment Alfred just gazed down at her, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of her question. Then, he leaned down, shutting his eyes to fight away the tears that threatened to spill more and more. He squeezed her hand, whispering softly in her ear. “The United States of America.”
Annie died that evening.
True to his word, Alfred remained by the little girls side until the end. Even when Becca screamed at him to leave. He kept his promise, her little hand clutching his until Annie’s clouded eyes finally sealed. He watched the little funeral they held for her, cradling Ms. Dotty in one arm, gazing at the letter in the others. Scrawled on the paper, in her childish, sloppy print, was Annie’s letter to him. Five simple words, but words that made his heart ache. That made the tears fall renewed:
I love you big brother!
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Molly did her best to lighten Alfred’s mood, to try and cheer him up. But she rarely got a smile out of him. Tears continued to flow, Alfred not even bothering to fight them down anymore. He was barely even aware of them. Bill remained strong, urging them all to continue on. Ruben joined him in this, often reassuring the two teenagers that Annie was in a better place, that she wouldn’t want them to be sad…
And Vincent, well he was just the same old ass he ever was.
One night, two days after Annie’s death, Alfred snuck away from the camp, hiding in silence. There was no Annie to tell them where to find him this time. He could hide away, curl up into a ball and sob. There was no one to tell him to suck it up, that it would be okay, to tell him that it was his fault, to call him a cry baby… There was no one to find him, and hug him…
And that final notion made the sobs come even harder. He hugged his knees into his chest tightly, burying his face into them. A Nation was suppose to protect their people. Alfred was suppose to protect his people. But he had failed, on two accounts now. Hell, he had failed on numerous accounts.
He wondered what Art- England would say to him.
“I had warned you,” a distant, yet familiar voice whispered in Alfred’s ear. England’s voice. “Becoming a Nation, it’s never easy. I warned you of this America. But you hardly ever listen…”
“Sh-Shut up,” he whispered in response to the imaginary voice. “Wh-What would you ha-have preferred me to do? Stay a lit-little colony!? I needed… I needed Independence…”
“Mmhmm, thus you waged war against me.”
“I tried…”
“I know,” the voice retorted, and Alfred could have sworn he felt arms wrap around his shoulders. ”Do you remember when you were small, and that blasted pet rabbit of yours… What was its name..?”
“Buttercup,” Alfred snorted, a ghost of a smile worming across his face at the remembrance.
“Ah, yes, Buttercup. Do you remember what I told you when it died?”
Alfred scrunched his face together, gazing at the blurry world in front of him (he’d removed his glasses when he had reached the area). He tried to remembered the words, but they were said so long ago… Back when he was still a child. Back when he still relied on England more than anything…
“You told me… I needed to suck it up.”
The ghostly voice of England snorted. “Well, I suppose in a sense I did. But that’s not my point.” Alfred could have sworn he felt a gentle hand brush against his hair, a comforting gesture England use to do when he was upset…
He was going crazy, Alfred decided. He was going crazy…
“I told you, it’s alright to cry. Because that proves that despite our status as Nations, we are still human, like our people.” England’s voice whispered, and it felt as though he was right beside him, holding him close, stroking his hair. But England couldn’t be there. England hated him. “But, I also told you America, you can’t mourn forever. You must be strong, and brave. You have to move on.”
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“It's hard, I know America. But this will not, and is not, the first person dear to you that you’ve lost… And it will not be the last. Wars will come America, and you will lose people you hold dear. Natural disasters will occur, and you will lose people you love. Our people cannot live forever. It is why we must mourn them, like all beings do. But we must move on. We must keep moving forward.”
Alfred said nothing, rubbing his teary eyes with his fist, like a child. “I couldn’t protect that boy Arthur… Or Annie. I couldn’t protect a little girl… Some Nation I am…”
“I’ve failed to protect people I’ve cared for before America. Every Nation has. And every one of us, of our Kind, has made mistakes that have cost people their lives.”
“Yeah right…”
“One day, sit down a look up a woman by the name of Joan of Arc,” there was sadness to his voice. And Alfred could have sworn he felt someone brushing away his tears. “It is an order I still regret fulfilling… But never tell the frog that!”
Alfred laughed, loosening his hold on his knees. There was a small hum of sorts to his left, before the non-real English voice spoke again. “You are still so young, America…”
“I don’t regret it…” He murmured, his eyes suddenly feeling heavy. There was a small laugh again.
“I know…”
“Hey… Arthur?” He mumbled laying back on the dirt, his eyes barely open.
“Hmm?”
“Do you… Do you hate me?”
There was no answer. And Alfred shut his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Sleep began to set in, even though Alfred tried to fight it away, straining his ears to hear the answer. But he knew it already. It was a resounding yes. And as this was a figment of his imagination… He didn’t understand why he was waiting for his imagination to answer…
But just as he felt the world slip away, almost entirely, a gentle kiss was planted on his forehead, something warm being pulled over his body.
“ I could never…” England whispered softly, and Alfred wondered if he was already dreaming. ”Sleep well… Alfred.”
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“ALFRED!”
“AL! WHERE ARE YOU!?”
He was startled awake by the shouts for his name. Sitting bolt upright, he looked around. He was still where he had hidden the previous night, his face stained by the dried tears. Blindly he located his glasses, slipping them back on as he looked around blinking. The sun had just begun to rise, the voices of the people on the train reaching his ears.
He opened his mouth to respond, but paused. His eyes drifted to the jacket that was now lying in his lap that had previously been lying over him. Tilting his head to one side, Alfred fingered the edge of the black duster. But he was sure he hadn’t brought this with him when he had left, and no one had known where he had gone (the shouts were proof of that). Then who…
He remembered the conversation. Perhaps, just perhaps it hadn’t been just a dream…
Was it really England? Or just America’s imagination? You all can be the judge of that!
And I hope you all don't kill me for Annie's fate... That had been decided from the very beginning.
Next segment will be the West finally! I hope you are all enjoying so far!
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The West! Yay! Gold and oil and all that jazz!
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Woot for surprise!England. Got to agree with above annon...Iggy is totally watching Alfred via crystal ball/magic mirror. Stalker!worried!England with magic.
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Alfred shook those thoughts from his mind, reflecting on the last three days of their journey. It had been a grueling final three days, Alfred had decided. Three days full of Molly worrying that he would wander off again (he hadn’t realized how much he had worried them all). Of Vincent trying to pluck his nerves (though Alfred had surprised everyone, even himself, by barely crying over his comments. Though some tears had been shed). Of Ruben giving Alfred yet another lecture about not wearing a hat while in the sun. Of Becca’s hateful stares. Of Bill finally getting Alfred and Paul to practice ‘quick-draw’ again.
“Annie always thought it looked like fun. ‘Lil lady wouldn’t want you two to quite ‘cause of her.” He had reasoned, and Bill was right. Alfred remembered Annie begging Bill to teach her too. And when he had refused (“you’re too little”) she had tried to convince Alfred and Paul. Of course, they too had told her ‘no’…
Just thinking of the little girl made his heart ache painfully. He squeezed his eyes shut to fight down the tears. He wouldn’t cry for her death anymore. England’s words rung clear in his mind. He had mourned. It was time to move on.
They bid a farewell to Becca and Ken upon reaching the town. The two were heading to another town, this time by carriage. Alfred had been tempted to return Annie’s little doll. It felt wrong to keep Ms. Dotty. But when he tried too, Becca told him to hold onto the doll. As a reminder. He was secretly grateful, it would have felt wrong to break his promise to Annie. After that, she just glared, while Ken promised to keep in touch. Alfred hoped they would. He didn’t want to break his promises…
Molly had ushered both Paul and Alfred to the inn her brother owned, already having arranged for the two to have a place to stay. She said it was until they got on their feet. Paul and Alfred thanked her greatly. Out of all the things they had planned, where they were going to live was not among them. They had been a bit panicked at first before Molly’s ‘offer’ (they hadn’t really had a choice).
Alfred was happy to see Vincent leave, though groaned at the remembrance that he would still see the man around town. If he couldn’t avoid him that is, and Alfred was going to try his hardest to avoid him…
Ruben and Bill bid goodbyes, though both said they would see Molly, Paul and Alfred around. Alfred learnt the next day that Ruben had gotten a job at the local doctor’s office, which was his aim as Alfred recalled. Bill had gone off to hunt for gold with some others, but as days past Alfred would see the man from time to time.
It was still strange not to see them all daily, after spending so much time traveling together. He missed it, to an extent…
“So how you boys been doin’?” Bill asked one night when he had stopped by the inn, on Molly’s offer, for dinner.
“Good, I’m gonna head up and look for gold tomorrow!” Paul announced cheerfully. Bill laughed.
“We can go up together if you’d like. I was heading back, and I know some good spots.”
“What’s the catch..?”
“Give me that piece of pie on your plate.” Bill responded simply, a grin on his face. All four burst out laughing. Paul handed the piece over immediately, stating that if Bill was lying there’d be Hell to pay. The man turned his attention to Alfred next, the young Nation smiling shyly.
“I’ve been good too. Just helpin’ Molly and her brother out around here.”
“He doesn’t have too, but he insists,” the woman responded, laughing happily. “Honestly, whoever taught you manners… Well, they did a good job.”
“Molly,” he heard a small hiss and the woman’s eyes immediately widened.
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“Its fine,” he stated, earning a small glare from Molly when he spoke with his mouth fall. Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he swallowed. “I mean, you don’t have to worry… I’m not gonna cry…”
They all stared at him, Alfred rolled his eyes. “I’m wasn’t that big of a cry-baby.”
“Yes you were.”
Laughter sounded again, Alfred grinning from ear to ear.
A good week passed by in the blink of an eye. Alfred had kept busy, becoming immersed in his new role here. Again he reveled in the fact that he was not being looked upon as the embodiment of the country, but as a simple young man.
However, he knew he should probably send his boss a letter, just to let him know that Alfred was safe.
With a sigh he sorted through his bag, before finding a blank piece of paper. Sitting at his desk he wrote a brief, to the point letter, slipping it in an empty envelope and addressing it. He rose to his feet, but paused. Two separate letters had fallen from his bag, Alfred stooping down to pick them up. One was simple. It was Annie’s letter. A sad smile tugged at his lips, but he fought down the tears. No, England’s lessons were right. He couldn’t cry over everything. He couldn’t cry forever. He had to mourn and then move on.
The second letter was longer, Alfred’s eyes widening as he read it over. It was the letter he’d been working on to Francis… But he couldn’t mail it…
Smiling a bit, Alfred crumpled the letter into a ball, tossing it in the waste basket before grabbing another piece of parchment. He scrawled a quick note, stuffing it in the envelope and addressing it to his fellow Nation. Nodding to himself, he tucked the letters into his coat pocket, slipping Annie’s letter in an open book he had been reading. That would keep it safe.
“Where you off too?” Molly called as Alfred entered the inn’s lobby.
“Gotta mail a letter! I’ll be back in a bit.” He called in response, exiting the inn. He paused for a moment, gazing at the quaint little town, a smile crossing his face.
He loved the West.
Well, I managed to get another segment out quite quickly if I do say so myself! Though, it isn't that great... And I apologize for that... But hey! They reached the town!
And... Writer!Anon is a bit stumped on what to do next. I could very easily finish this up, as I do feel America has grown on his way to the town. But its up to the OP and you readers! Are there any particular things that you want to occur? Or do you feel I can easily call the story to a close? I'm quite torn...
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I love this update so much~ <3
Out of selfishness I say continue. XDDDDD
As for suggestions um... I kinda want Canada to show up. For the brothers to make up.
Of course England actually being there would be cool too. secretly stalking America to make sure he's alright
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Unfortunately. You may have just suggested things planned for the end. Do you have anymore requests?
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I think it would be cool to maybe do a time skip where Alfred has lived out West for a few years and maybe grew to be physically older.
You can also do something with the gold rush and the rowdy, makeshift towns made entirely of men. I imagine Molly would be very popular. ~_^ And a little closure with Annie's parents would be nice (again, timeskip).
Whatever you and the op decide would make me happy though.
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As for requests, I'd like to see Al face robbers. Whether he does that now or later is ok with me. But he does need to see the dangers of the west. Maybe cattle jackers too?
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