Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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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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The town was bustling, as per usual, people shouted to one another, children running in the streets pretended to be cowboys. It was a normal day, Alfred thought with a smile.
Annie would have loved it…
A sadness tugged at his heart, but Alfred shook it away. He slipped the belt around his waist, as it was much easier to carry them that way, making a bee line to the saloon. He had only been in it once or twice, but those few times were enough for him to understand just why most of the men enjoyed going there.
Upon stepping through the swinging doors, Alfred was hit with the smell of tobacco. The noise level seemed to rise the further he entered, sky blue eyes peering around, searching for the man he had been sent to find, but Bill was no where to be seen. Sighing to himself, Alfred shifted through the patrons of the business warily. All the while keeping his eyes peeled for the familiar face. He’d find him eventually, it would just take longer then he had originally expected.
“Are you lookin’ for someone cutie?” Blinking, he turned his head to one of the woman that seemed to work for the saloon. She was smiling at him, caramel colored hair pinned up, twirling a red boa in her hands. Alfred flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Oh, um yeah…”
“Maybe I could help you out,” she was still smiling, winking playfully. “What’s your name?”
“Alfred Jones, ma’am.”
“Well aren’t you a lil gentleman,” she laughed a bright smile on her face. “No one hear ever calls me ma’am! You from the South?”
He shook his head, smiling back. “Nah, I’m from around Philadelphia.”
It was true, in a sense. Alfred did spend a good amount of his time near Philadelphia, when he wasn’t busy in Virginia. The saloon-girl smiled still, tickling his nose with her feathered boa. It resulted in Alfred sneezing, the woman laughing again. “You really are a cutie Mr. Jones. The name is Miss Lizzy, now who’re you lookin’ for.”
“His names Bill, er, Bill Tenor,” Alfred supplied, hesitating for a moment when recalling the man’s last name. Really, no one referred to him by it. It was always just ‘Bill’. Miss Lizzy cocked her head to the side, almost seeming to pout as she thought. Alfred flushed again, glancing down at his feet. She really was pretty, he thought idly, but then again that was probably why she got the job. He knew very well what saloon-girls doubled over as…
“Ah! Billy!” Her shout pulled him out of his musings. She was grinning, pointing to a table near the back. “He’s back there. Playin’ poker with some guys… Why don’t’cha wait?”
“I just have to drop somethin’ off for him.”
“You can leave it with me if you don’t wanna hang around,” she insisted, and Alfred blinked, taking not of the hint of worry. But he just grinned, waving his hand in the air as he walked off.
“Nah, its fine! I’ll see you Miss Lizzy!” He heard her shout out to him, trying to stall him. Alfred could not help but raise a quizzical eyebrow, but shrugged it off. He shifted through the people again, heading in the direction Miss Lizzy had pointed too. In moments he spotted the man.
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“Filthy cheat!” One of the men shouted, standing up and slamming his hands against the table. It knocked over a few of the bottles, Alfred cringing as they shattered on the floor. Bill sighed at the accusation, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Just ‘cause you keep losin’ doesn’t make anyone a cheater. Now sit down and cool you jets. No need to get so worked up.” He pacified, Alfred not missing the man’s hand twitch. He was getting ready to draw his gun. He had seen Bill do it before on the trail, when some fights got particularly bad. He never fired at them, just merely shoot towards the sky to shut everyone up. Now though… Well Alfred wasn’t sure what he would aim for. Especially since Alfred had his guns…
But the man he had spoken too did not sit down; he remained standing, looking absolutely livid.
“Trent, cool it. Its just a couple hands,” one of the man’s friends (or at least he assumed) attempted, trying to tug the livid man, Trent, back into his chair.
“You fuckin’ cheated!” He shouted, his eyes glaring sharply at Vincent who merely laughed, raising his hands.
“Did no such thing. And even if I did, you got any proof?”
“Vincent,” Bill warning tone made Alfred’s stomach knot.
“C’mon Bill, if the lil baby-”
“What did you call me!?”
“Vincent!”
“A baby,” Vincent was probably drunk, Alfred deduced, edging closer. After all, it did look like the table had enough beers for them all to be drunk. “Now as I was say-”
It all happened faster then Alfred realized. The man, Trent, had drawn his pistol. Bill had shot to his feet, reaching for his guns that were not there. And without any hesitation, Alfred had drawn one of said guns, pointing it at the man before he could even take aim.
There was a stifling silence, mixed with tension. It was only then that Alfred realized that the saloon had grown quiet, all its inhabitants eyes on the group. On the “18 year-old” holding the gun to the grown mans head. Alfred swallowed a lump in his throat, distantly wondering why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. “Put your gun down. Bill’s right. No need to get so worked up over a game of cards.”
Trent spun on his heels, his gun wavering. Alfred knew what the man was thinking, cocking the hammer back on the pistol. As if getting the point, he finally holstered his gun, glaring sharply at Alfred. “And who the hell are you?”
“A friend of theirs.” He replied with a shrug, aim never wavering.
“Trent, let’s just go.” His friend attempted again, grabbing one of the livid man’s arms. He didn’t budge for a moment, before he finally began to move away, glaring sharply at Alfred. It was a death glare, one Alfred had seen before… On battle fields…
“Are you a fuckin’ dumbass cry-baby!?” He was surprised, really surprised, to hear the concern in the man’s voice; even if it was masked by his incredulous tone. “Didn’t need your help!”
“When the hell you get so fast at drawin’ a gun Al?” Bill asked more curious then worried over what had just happened. Alfred blinked, finally holstering the gun. All eyes were still on him, but he tried to ignore them.
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“Well, you’ve gotten real good kid. Fastest I’ve seen someone draw in a long while,” Bill whistled, before glancing around. “Show’s over folks! Go back to your games!”
The other patrons obeyed, albeit hesitantly. Bill sat down, motioning for Alfred to take one of the abandoned chairs. He did so, remembrance striking him. “Oh! Molly asked me to bring these to you! You left ‘em at her place.”
Again, he decided to push that nagging question down.
Bill raised his hand simply, halting Alfred as he moved to unhook the belt. “You keep ‘em Al. I’ve got another set.”
“But these-”
“You’ll be needed them,” Vincent cut in, sending Alfred a sharp look. “You’re a fuckin’ moron cry-baby.”
“… What I do?”
“Pissed off the wrong guy,” came a meek voice. Alfred turned his head, it was Miss Lizzy again, walking towards them with a glass of what Alfred figured was some sort of alcohol. She nearly shoved it in his hands she sat down, fingering her boa nervously. “Trent’s a real hot-head. A real bad guy… Won’t hesitate to shoot you cutie…”
Her eyes turned to Bill and Vincent at this, an ashamed look crossing her pretty features. “I tried to keep him by the bar… I figured you guys were already havin’ a spat. But-”
“But the cry-baby fails at figurin’ out subtle hints.”
“Oi, I’m not a-”
“It’s fine Miss Lizzy. Really Vin’s fault.”
“How is it my-”
“’Cause you provoked him the most. If you had kept your mouth shut like usual, me and Mike would’ve calmed ‘im down!” At this Vincent scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Alfred looked between the three, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Uh… Is that… Normal?”
“Guy’s never gotten that worked up,” Bill confessed, picking up a beer bottle and taking a swig. Alfred took a hesitant sip of whatever drink Miss Lizzy had brought him, nearly choking as it burned his throat. The two men, and woman, laughed. “Can’t hold your liquor?”
“What you expect? He’s still a baby,” Vincent chided, an amused look on his face. They all laughed, Alfred glowering slightly as he set the drink down on the table. The tense air did not vanish though, Alfred shifting uneasily.
“So… I really screwed up?” He voiced, waiting for the obvious reply. The men shared a look, before Bill shrugged.
“Nah, you just gotta play it safe for a week or so. Trent’ll forget real quickly about this whole situation. So you should be fine. Just hang out in doors or with me for a while.”
“Right… Why?”
“Trent might try and shoot you if he sees you,” Miss Lizzy responded, smiling sheepishly when she saw his shocked face. “I’m real sorry, I should’ve tried harder to keep you away…”
“It’s fine.” The three chorused. Alfred sighed a little, leaning back in his chair.
“So he’s gonna try and kill me?”
“He might.”
“I’ll just have to be careful,” he shrugged, taking another hesitant sip of his drink. It burnt again, but at least this time he managed to fight down the urge to sputter. The three just stared at him, and Alfred hid a secretive smile. It wasn’t like this was the first time someone would be out to get him. It wasn’t the first time he would be at the end of a gun…
No, it wasn’t the first time at all.
And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
The three bid Miss Lizzy goodbye, Alfred flushing brightly when she kissed him on the cheek. Both men snickered, teasing the young blonde as they walked down the street. Alfred could not feel a bit unnerved that he was actually getting along with Vincent. Well, the two were still bickering, but from the way he was acting it almost seemed like he was worried about Alfred. But that had to be his imagination. Yup, that was it. No way could that bastard actually be worried!
When they reached the inn, Vincent said a simple good bye. The man paused a few feet away, glancing over his shoulder. “Hey, cry-baby.”
“What?” Mentally he cursed that he responded to the nick name.
“… Thanks.” And without another word he turned and sauntered off. Alfred stood on the inns porch, dumbstruck. He stared after the man, before at Bill who was chuckling.
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“You did save his life back there Al,” Bill stated, opening the inn door. “Trent would’ve shot him, probably killed him.”
“You both were acting like I did somethin’ stupid.”
“Reckless, yeah. Stupid, eh.” Bill grinned at him. “I would’ve done the same if I had my pistols.”
When they recounted the event at dinner, Molly looked horrified. Paul looked jealous. (“Goddamn! I always miss the cool stuff!”). Alfred rubbed the back of his neck nervously as the women fussed over him, threatening Bill to watch after Alfred.
It made the Nation laugh more; he really didn’t need to be watched over. It would take a lot more then a bullet to kill him. But it was still nice... He really had forgotten what it was like to have someone watching over him. It had been a long while, since the end of the Revolutionary War… Sure, Francis would check in on Alfred regularly, sometimes Gilbert would write him to make sure his armies were still strong. Before the issue with Texas, Anton- Spain would pop by his house for random visits. Ivan would write him too, the two having formed an odd sort of friendship as the years progressed. All of them would watch over him, in a sense. But it wasn’t the same. Not since the Revolutionary War had someone fussed over him like Molly tended to do… Like a parent… Like England had…
His face must have shown his thoughts, because the room got suddenly very quiet. He caught their gazes. They were all waiting for the inevitable, for his tears to fall. But Alfred simply excused himself, rubbing his eyes as small tears began to slip out of the corners. He didn’t want to let them see him crying. Not after going so long without breaking down in front of them.
When he reached his room he hung the belt and guns on the edge of one of the chairs, before flopping face first into the bed. He stared ahead blankly for a moment, before rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. So he had picked a fight with the wrong guy apparently. Someone who would not hesitate in shooting him. Killing him.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he thought with a bitter laugh, the tears slipping down his face. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Writer!Anon again, is not too pleased with this segment of the story, well, I have grown to like it more as I typed it. But I’m still a bit iffy... But luckily, inspiration struck, and after reading all your comments... More plots have been turning in my head. I had never considered a time skip before~
And in my head canon, while the notes state Alfred was a crybaby… I feel like he would actually be kind of calm about getting a gun pointed at him. I mean, the guys been in wars before! He has been shot at. So I figure, while he probably was the type to cry very easily… He’d still be relatively okay with his life getting threatened. At least on the surface. I do not know if that made ANY sense. It probably did not.
I do hope I haven’t butchered the West for anyone… I know I’m probably horribly inaccurate. I may or may not be going on what I can recall from history class, some research, and Western flicks… So I apologize profusely! This kink has made me really want to brush up on my Western history and write a proper story!
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