Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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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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Alfred's gunslinging = win!
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Al is a war veteran and a demi-god nation thing, so I can't see him getting too frightened by some punk wanting to kill him. It made sense to.
At fist I though Al had named his glasses Anton. XD It breaks my heart every time Al starts saying a nations human name, but switches to their real name because they're not friendly anymore. It makes it seem like he really is an orphan, losing everyone close to him. Bawww.
Glad you're considering the time skip.
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(re-captcha: $2,882,000 fudge. WAT)
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...why do i phail at anoning?!
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