Re: Flipside (2a/?)
anonymous
August 24 2009, 18:20:25 UTC
Our World
In his time on Earth, Tony had picked up several bad habits from America, including a terrible taste in food, a love of horror movies, and a severe unwillingness to ask for help or admit when something was wrong. So when Canada called, Tony said nothing about the “accident.”
“So...when did you say America would comeback exactly?” Canada asked over the phone.
“Few days,” Tony replied. He wasn't lying...America had said he was taking a few days off.
“But there's a meeting in a week!” Canada wailed, “We have a joint presentation with England. We all agreed to prepare together. We even agreed to meet up at McDonald's tomorrow so Alfred could have lunch while we worked. England's treat! Alfred never turns down free McDonald's! Is there something wrong?”
“No, of course not!” Tony laughed nervously (another bad habit he picked up from America), “I've got to go...sorry I couldn't be of any use.”
“But...”
Tony hung up, cutting off the Canadian's protest. The alien then went back to the task at hand. Namely, the smoking virtual reality visor and the missing American.
~
Other World
England tightened his hand around Canada's fingers, his mouth set in a grim line. This was going to be the first time after...after the incident that the two of them were going to visit America's house. After Salem, England felt reluctant to visit Alfred's colonies. But it was his duty to join Canada in surveying the land. After America's death, his lands were Canada's.
“It's not mine, Daddy,” Canada whispered, looking down, “It still feels like America's, not mine.”
England didn't answer right away, his eyes distant. His head was still filled with memories, and the sound of screams. A little body swung in front of him, blue eyes dead, dead, dead. Salem...
Once they reached America's Virginia home, England was surprised to find the door unlocked.
“Bloody looters,” England snarled, pulling out a pistol, “Stay behind me, Canada.”
As soon as he entered the house, he noticed a bag and musket leaning against the chair, indicating the intruder was still around. But what kind of robber left his things lying around? England checked his room first. Empty. Same with the guest room. Canada and America's room...not so much.
England bared his teeth when he noticed the lanky form sprawled out on his colonies' bed. The intruder even had the gall to cuddle up with America's stuffed rabbit. England strode over to the bed, only to stop dead in his tracks when the man on the bed bolted up and, like lightning, had a pistol pointed at England's head.
“Daddy!” Canada gasped. The stranger blinked at the pair of them, instantly lowering his weapon when he got a better look.
“Iggy? Mattie?” the intruder gasped, a familiar smile working its way onto his face, “What are you guys doing here?”
England sucked in a breath. Only one person, and one person only, addressed them like that...and only one person had those exact sky blue eyes and silly little (Nantucket) cowlick.
“Impossible,” England whispered, his own gun wavering. Before he knew it, he was enveloped in a bone crushing hug, his pistol slipping from his fingers.
In his time on Earth, Tony had picked up several bad habits from America, including a terrible taste in food, a love of horror movies, and a severe unwillingness to ask for help or admit when something was wrong. So when Canada called, Tony said nothing about the “accident.”
“So...when did you say America would comeback exactly?” Canada asked over the phone.
“Few days,” Tony replied. He wasn't lying...America had said he was taking a few days off.
“But there's a meeting in a week!” Canada wailed, “We have a joint presentation with England. We all agreed to prepare together. We even agreed to meet up at McDonald's tomorrow so Alfred could have lunch while we worked. England's treat! Alfred never turns down free McDonald's! Is there something wrong?”
“No, of course not!” Tony laughed nervously (another bad habit he picked up from America), “I've got to go...sorry I couldn't be of any use.”
“But...”
Tony hung up, cutting off the Canadian's protest. The alien then went back to the task at hand. Namely, the smoking virtual reality visor and the missing American.
~
Other World
England tightened his hand around Canada's fingers, his mouth set in a grim line. This was going to be the first time after...after the incident that the two of them were going to visit America's house. After Salem, England felt reluctant to visit Alfred's colonies. But it was his duty to join Canada in surveying the land. After America's death, his lands were Canada's.
“It's not mine, Daddy,” Canada whispered, looking down, “It still feels like America's, not mine.”
England didn't answer right away, his eyes distant. His head was still filled with memories, and the sound of screams. A little body swung in front of him, blue eyes dead, dead, dead. Salem...
Once they reached America's Virginia home, England was surprised to find the door unlocked.
“Bloody looters,” England snarled, pulling out a pistol, “Stay behind me, Canada.”
As soon as he entered the house, he noticed a bag and musket leaning against the chair, indicating the intruder was still around. But what kind of robber left his things lying around? England checked his room first. Empty. Same with the guest room. Canada and America's room...not so much.
England bared his teeth when he noticed the lanky form sprawled out on his colonies' bed. The intruder even had the gall to cuddle up with America's stuffed rabbit. England strode over to the bed, only to stop dead in his tracks when the man on the bed bolted up and, like lightning, had a pistol pointed at England's head.
“Daddy!” Canada gasped. The stranger blinked at the pair of them, instantly lowering his weapon when he got a better look.
“Iggy? Mattie?” the intruder gasped, a familiar smile working its way onto his face, “What are you guys doing here?”
England sucked in a breath. Only one person, and one person only, addressed them like that...and only one person had those exact sky blue eyes and silly little (Nantucket) cowlick.
“Impossible,” England whispered, his own gun wavering. Before he knew it, he was enveloped in a bone crushing hug, his pistol slipping from his fingers.
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