US/UK/US Blast From the Revolutionary Past Mayhem
anonymous
August 27 2009, 00:35:28 UTC
I don't know why, but I've had a thing for Rev!America for a very, VERY long time. I also love watching my country squirm in angst (I'm so patriotic to America XD). SO. Yes. Here's the request.
Be it magical mayhem/mishap/whatever you want so long as it makes SENSE, bring Rev!America to the present, replacing the current America. I don't really care as to what time in the Revolution you pull him from, so long as it's either during the war or just after it. England/Canada will be there when the "transformation" or whatever happens, either by chance or he (England or Canada) was already there on visit (or England was doing funky magic again in America's house). Basically, it's about England (other nations may help, too, if anon so chooses) healing America's broken heart (maybe healing his own in the process?). I don't care if through the healing process England falls in love with America or if they were already in an established relationshop, so long as it's US/UK/US.
Order doesn't matter, although I like US topping. *shrugs* Smut is also optional, but appreciated (naturally). XD Although, I'd also love to see the closeness of these two. BUT. It's up to the anon.
Multiple fills are automatically approved. I'd love to see the different viewpoints on this idea. ;)
BONUS: America has to attend one or more meetings despite his mental state. BONUS 2: America is forced to wear his old Revolutionary clothing during a meeting 'cause he can't fit into his current clothes. (I believe he's a little shorter than the current America...definitely a helluva lot skinnier)
So...yeah. Um...I don't even know why/how I came up with this, but there ya go. XD
Lucid Memories [1a/?]
anonymous
July 10 2010, 18:06:50 UTC
I have no idea if this is what OP had in mind. I hope this is okay. This is the first time I filled a request on the kink meme. I already posted this on my fanfiction.net account, but I guess I'll post it here too for those who don't go to that website. This chapter will act like a prologue.
Chapter 1: Regret
Rain poured down that day. The cold liquid splashed on America's face as he stared at the dark grey skies extending above him. Tip, tap, tip, tap. The rhythm of the small raindrops tapped in repetition. The American was too tired to be annoyed by the inconvenient weather. Too tired to be aware that fighting would be bad in this type of condition.
Somehow… somehow… he knew that on that today… he would have to face him. Just him. No one else. There would be no one to interfere. Not his men. Not even France (1).
The young boy felt his hand tighten his grip of his musket. Days of downpour had started to take effect on the feeble weapon. His army was weak and starving. The food's supplies would soon run out. If this went on, they would soon die from hunger!
His dirty blond hair was wet and damp. His knuckles were bleeding. His once true blue uniform that he was so proud of was now covered with blood and slime. A fine blue coat trimmed with strips of velvety red. It was just like England's. Except that it was blue, rather than that stunning red coat that stood out so clearly in the battlefield. Very impractical.
England… the teenager thought of his former guardian. The very man whom he had looked up to. The one who took care of him, fed him, nourished him. His big brother.
No! He told himself. He's not my brother! Not anymore! He thought, crying as he marched along with his men. The soft plat on the ground, foot against unstable soil, was ignored by the blond. This was not an unusual sight. He wasn't the only one crying. There were others who had cried over their wives, their children, their brothers, their family.
He felt like an orphan. He had no family to cry of. He never knew of his parents' identity. Were they like him? A nation? Or were they just mortals who passed away as quickly as they came? He didn't even know what they looked like.
His men were getting ready. Another battle was coming up.
Matthew, his twin brother… the boy was just like him in many ways, but was also the polar opposite of him. He was the personification of Canada. Just like he was the personification of America; but unlike his older brother, Canada was quieter. Better behaved. He was England's favorite. The stupid Tory, he thought. He gave him the chance to join him in pursue of independence, but his twin refused, staying loyal to England. Alfred saw this as a sign of betrayal. No brother of his would side with the enemy, right?
Their muskets were ready.
Francis was there, but he was no family either. He remembered how the Frenchman had tried to persuade the young American colony of joining him back than. When he chose England over France. He had a feeling that the Frenchman only wanted to help him out of revenge. To get back at England for taking away his Mathieu. His New France. His Canada. Or did the French nation only wanted his twin brother as a replacement of him? Anger bubbled underneath him. To an outsider, he was as cool as a cucumber. As much as Alfred hated to admit, he was probably just a tool in the eyes of the older nation. Just like how England had used him.
The rain poured harder, pelting his men like hail.
A sense of self pity plunged into the deep pit of Alfred's heart. He thought that England had loved him. Wasn't that why he wanted the American colony in the first place? Or did he just want him for his own self pleasure? Just to use him as a human trophy? To show the world how strong the British Empire was?
Cries of the enemy were heard clearly across the battlefront.
When they first met, England had shown him everything. How to cook, well, at least how to not burn something; clean, take care of himself, and his culture. Heck, his 'people', those who had migrated to America, were devoted to this Puritan belief. It was his first taste of European culture.
Lucid Memories [1b/?]
anonymous
July 10 2010, 18:08:47 UTC
They were approaching. The redcoats were coming!
The English nation would come and go, much to the small colony's reluctance, and would often leave him to take care of himself for extension of periods. He was okay with that. Because England would always come back. Just like he said he would.
But… soon… the taxes came… His big brother soon started to charge them with ridiculous taxes. That was hardly fair. The English man didn't even bother including them with representatives in the Parliament! His people, the Americans, started to rebel. They tried to cooperate with England. He tried to cooperate with England. He only wanted to stay being his little brother. Was that asking too much? He only wanted to be with him. Those pitiful attempts of union soon became attempts of rebellion. He was his own nation. He had his own people to worry of. He wanted to seek independence. To break away from England. That was all.
Alfred found his weak voice; "Hey England…" it cracked and was hoarse from exhaustion as he gave a weak smile to the man in front of him. His tears fell. Or was that just the rain?
"I guess I chose liberty after all…" Dull green eyes stared back at him. He had a desperate look in his eyes. No… The Englishman looked so small. So weak… Was this the England he knew?
"I'm not your child," Alfred gave full eye contact to him, continuing with his sentence. "Or your baby brother anymore…" He felt his wide eyes staring back, there was shock and sadness in those pupils.
England whispered. "America… I…"
Was it hate? Did England hate him? After all of the fighting they have gone through? The Boston Tea Party, the killing, the punishment his men inflicted on the Loyalists? He had to hate him. Who wouldn't? What kind of man would keep on loving someone who broke away from them?
No… This had to end. Now! He tried to reason with England. He tried. Alfred attempted to persuade himself. His people were taxed. Taxed for a war that had nothing to do with him. It was just a stupid war between him and the French nation. He didn't even considered him to be his brother! Just a thing. A piece of land. His property. He didn't see him as a human being…
He. America. Was going to break the last link. The last link that connected them.
Alfred quietly said the words. Loud and clear. "England." England already had all of his focus on him. "From now on…" The words were stuck. He couldn't breath! He felt this strange feeling of regret cluttered in his throat.
He started again. "From now on… I am independent." Lightning clashed in the background. "Acknowledge it!" He was breathless.
His eyes narrowed. England's eyes. The older nation shoved his musket towards him with no warning. Alfred instantly used jumped into his reflex and blocked his attack with his own. His heart stopped.
Why weren't his men doing anything? Alfred didn't bother to look back. They were either too shocked by the sudden attack or they just somehow knew that they shouldn't interfere with the fighting immortals. This was their fight.
So America was shocked when he heard the old man murmur. "You were always so naïve… you fool…" He was still pointing his weapon at the boy; the musket was shaking in his hand, America heard the splash on the ground. He had dropped his musket. His only weapon. He had nothing to defend himself with.
"You fool…" England moaned. "You idiot… There's no point in firing anymore is there…?" He was crying. Alfred couldn't take his eyes away from England. No… Arthur…
Lucid Memories [1c/?]
anonymous
July 10 2010, 18:10:11 UTC
"Damn it!" He cursed, "Why? Damn…" England collapsed.
"E-england?" Alfred called out his name, but it sounded more like a question rather than a statement. His eyes grew hazy…
Arthur and Alfred were playing in the woods… America's woods. The soft moist grass was sprayed with dew, reflecting numerous colors in them. The soft callings of the songbirds were heard off from the far distance. The small eight year old America was holding onto a sun hat. Everyday felt like it would last forever. Just him and England. They would eat together, play games of hopscotch or tag; he would help him set up tea parties…
"Let's go home." England smiled, his hands held out to reach him, the bright golden sun shone on his light corn blond bangs. His emerald green eyes glisten with warmth and delight. Alfred's small hands held out to reach them.
"England…" Alfred felt the warm tears tickle down his face. "You used to be…" Why? "…so big…" He stared at his former guardian. He felt so stiff. He had won… He had won…
Independence. The word was so lovely when it was first introduced to him, but was it really worth it? This independence? He did not feel the happiness and relief that he thought he would have felt. The two armies that were one fighting against each other just stood there, staring at their countries.
England… Do you still hate me? I… Before a complete thought formed, the independent boy's mind faded away, as he fell into unconsciousness.
England stared at the boy. No! Alfred? His emerald eyes widened as he went up to him, embracing him in his arms.
"America?" He whispered. Wake up damn it! The bloody fool. "Alfred? ALFRED!"
The English gentlemen cried as he shook the boy, realizing that he was knocked out. The men surrounding him only looked solemnly at the fallen boy. The rain continued to pour down hard.
Alfred…
-----------------
Author Notes: This is just an introduction; hopefully, the next few chapters will improve and be more interesting for you guys.
Both human names and nation names will be used. Human names will tend to be used depending on how close characters feel to each other.
France (1) - France did most of the fighting for the Americans. If it weren't for them, the American probably would have lost to the British army. It also helped that a certain Prussian general trained America into shape. Someone noted that this is not true, but I'll just label this as a debatable topic just to be safe.
Sorry for my inaccuracy in history. This story is meant to focus more on relations than history itself, but I'll try my best to be as accurate as possible.
Re: Lucid Memories [1c/?]
anonymous
July 15 2010, 00:18:48 UTC
It's true America wouldn't have won without France's help, but the French crown refused to officially intervene until after the colonists proved themselves in battle against the Kingdom of Great Britain. (The French weren't about to attempt to throw troops and money into something that was guaranteed to fail) So, the colonists actually had to go it alone for a number of years with no official military support (though foreign individuals did come to help). It's just as much a disservice not to give the American colonists credit as it is to deny that France's intervention didn't contribute to their victory.
Re: Lucid Memories [1c/?]
anonymous
July 15 2010, 18:28:29 UTC
Thanks for telling me that. I had several other people correct me that when I posted this story on a different site. It was after America won several wars against England did France decided to join and help them. France likes to step in troubled waters, lol.
It was also because America learned (it's learnt!) some helpful tactics in war, such as guerrilla war. I'm not too sure if this is write, but according to my old history teacher, she told us that the British soldiers fought in rows and lines while the Americans fought in guerrilla style. The Americans will small in number compared to the British, but they won in the end.
Did anyone not read my reply? For the last time. I know. The France partially helped America, but not the whole thing. I know. I was already told this before. Please don't correct me on this. I already had this issue informed to me multiple times. Please find something else to comment on. I cannot go back to change why I have just posted. This issue has already been settled weeks ago. Thank you and have a good day.
Re: Lucid Memories [1c/?]
anonymous
July 20 2010, 12:35:37 UTC
Seconding the anon above! :) The French helped the Americans out with their Naval power, but Americans had about 30,000+ soldiers in the war; France had around 7000.
Lucid Memories [2a/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 02:35:03 UTC
Present Time…
"Thanks for stopping by, England!" A certain loud blond thanked the Englishman. England grunted in response.
It was a typical sunny afternoon in West Virginia. America and England were sitting at the kitchen table, eating their lunch together. Arthur was surprised that the food wasn't hamburgers or a meal from McDonald's. He wondered where he had gone wrong with that boy… he never seems to eat anything except those blasted burgers these days…
What was the Englishman doing in America's house? He was coming by to visit him. This was nothing out of the ordinary. This was one of the times when Arthur would come to stay at Alfred's house in West Virginia, far from D.C. Living in the capitol was annoying sometimes, with all the politicians walking in and out though the whole day. It was troublesome. The American's house was actually out in the near suburbs, close to the city.
Alfred's kitchen was small. It was painted yellow, to bring in sunshine into the room. Not like it already has with the idiot's happy going personality. Besides the stove and fridge was the kitchen table, fit for two.
The last time Arthur came by, the American was living in a bigger house that was fit for several families. Than again… it was when he had fifty kids or so underneath his roof. It was strange to think of his former colony as a father. The thought of it made him feel old.
He stared down at the drooping turkey sandwich that has been sitting on his plate for awhile. The sandwich was quickly slapped together at the last minute by the way everything seemed to be stacked on here and there. Well, at least it wasn't a burger. .
"What's wrong?" England felt Alfred staring at him as he examined his lunch. His curiosity sounded sincere. There was no hint of laughing behind his question. The American was wearing his usually bright sunny smile. Damn. The boy smiled too much. What was there to smile for?
"Nothing." He told him. His voice was peaceful and soft. There really was nothing wrong with him. He was with America. His America. The little colony he once took care of. Sure, there were small disagreements, but it was part of their relationship. It was how they got along with each other. It wasn't like his relationship with Francis, who was always full of lust and his strange antics. No… England thought. Their relationship was special. It was something he had never felt before.
Alfred's smile grew wider. "Awww, not going to complain about my food, Iggy?"
The English man fumed while he mumbled to the American to shut up, groaning at the nickname his former colony had labeled him with. When he befriended Japan, the first thing he did was to ask him how to say England in Japanese. When the Japanese man told him that it was Igiritsu, the America thought that the name was too long, so he stuck to Iggy. So Iggy it was.
"Well," The American perkily said. "This is better than those terrible scones you made!" He watched with pleasure as blood traveled up through Arthur's cheeks. It's so much fun teasing this guy, Alfred thought with glee.
The Englishman wanted to strangle the idiot. "Hey!" He was still blushing. "I made those scones you bloody idiot!" He had to roll up the sleeves of his green vest as he started to eat.
"Ah, ha ha!" The stupid America laughed. "I know!" Why wouldn't he stop smiling! "I just like to watch your reactions!" He gave England a crooked grin. S-stupid Alfred!
"I-idiot… I thought you liked my food… You never complained about it when you were little…" He stared the soft azure blue eyes that were hidden behind Texas, his glasses. They were as clear as crystal.
Azure eyes blinked back. "I only ate them because I didn't want to hurt your feelings." Alfred told him. He stopped to push Texas up the bridge of his pointed nose. It was the truth. So many times, the Englishman would 'cook', only to have end up burning the said food or set something up on fire.
The American colony would have gagged and choke, trying not to make it apparent to his guardian. He didn't want to make him mad. He looked so happy when he ate his food. He didn't want to destroy that happy. That simple happiness that kept them together…
Lucid Memories [2b/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 02:36:54 UTC
Arthur noticed Alfred was unusually quiet. "A-alfred?"
"Remember the Revolutionary War?" The change of topic was so sudden. So out of place. Why did he bring up the subject? He thought the fool knew better than to bring up the subject of that particular war! He thought that he knew.
Anger flashed in his bright green eyes. "What about it?"
"Arthur…?" His voice was distant, "Are…" there was hesitation. "Are you still mad at me?" He sounded hurt.
"Alfred… I…" Arthur didn't know how to start! "I don't know." He admitted.
Arthur fell into deep thought; he still had mixed feeling about the whole thing. He didn't like to think about it, he always tried to avoid the subject all together. The nightmares would come, but those were usually reserved when America's birthday came around. No. He didn't want to think about it. Of course he hated America! It was his bloody damn fault that he was a mess! His fault that he had to suffer. That he broke his first love! It was all his stupid fault!
"England?" The Englishman withdrew back into reality.
"Eh…" This was awkward. "I'll think about it. Okay?" He told the American nation. "I need to get to some time to think about it. I don't know yet." He saw a sad look reaching in his friend's eyes.
"I see." England felt rather guilty. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't mad at him anymore, but that would be lying, because he didn't know for sure if he could truly be mad at him anymore. It was too confusing. Too complicated. Besides, America was his colony. His brother. Wasn't it wrong to feel like this to your brother?
The small frown on America face quickly transformed into a smile, it was as if the sadness wasn't there at all. Was Arthur imagining it all? Was it just an illusion?
The American roughly grabbed the England's hand. "Let's go!"
England flinched at the slightly touch of his hand, but his inhuman grip remained strong as ever. "W-where the hell are you taking me to, you fool?" He couldn't stop the blood from flowing into his cheeks again. Why couldn't he react to America like he did with everyone else?
"I got to get you out of the house sometimes you know!"
"Let go of me!" But his exclamation was ignored as America dragged the short man out of the room, mumbling and protesting as he went, arguing with the American. It was just a typical day with America.
Arthur was surprised of where Alfred had dragged him to. He was half expecting the idiot to bring to McDonalds, or take him to one of his stupid movie theaters. Instead, after running nonstop for awhile with the Englishman piggyback ridding on his back, they stopped at a local playground.
The small place was deserted, the sun was already setting. When they got to the swings, England climbed off of the American's back.
"Why did you bring me here?" He asked Alfred.
"Hmm…" He answered. He looked so peaceful as he laid on the ground, staring the white puffy clouds that were passing by. His dreaming expression may England slowly form a smile as the Englishman gently pushed himself on the swing. The two spent several minutes of complete silence. The only noise that was made was the sound of the swing and the swaying of the trees.
Arthur finally found his voice. "Alfred."
"Yeah?" Alfred looked back at him.
"Thanks for letting me come." The boy stared at him in shock. Shouldn't it have been in reverse? Usually, England would seem a bit reluctant to come over. Every single time. Why so nice all of the sudden?
"Don't…" Alfred closed his eyes. "Don't leave me." Arthur felt a sense of déjà vu. It was like when America was a colony again. Asking Arthur to don't leave the house.
Lucid Memories [2c/?]
anonymous
July 13 2010, 02:39:21 UTC
England blinked, continuing to stare straight ahead to the sky. "I-" He told him. "I have a country to run you know."
"I know that." Alfred whispered. "But…" His crystal blue eyes tried to blink away the tears. "I…the war… The Revolution…" At those words, everything suddenly blacked out, as Alfred fell into the darkness.
"Alfred! Are you?" England saw that America had fainted. "Alfred!" Please no… Not again… No…no…no… He thought as he tried to wake up the unconscious blond. Please… He remembered the smile the America had had his face when he asked him the question, "Do you still hate me?"
No, calm down you bloody fool. He just fainted. Take him back to your house. England tried to reason with himself. With a bit of struggle, he took his former colony by the arm and took him home, still full of worry. But he couldn't help but wonder of the cause of the spell…
----
A/N: Stupid character limits. This is just a prologue too. The later chapters will definitely be very long.
Lucid Memories [3/?]
anonymous
July 14 2010, 17:39:56 UTC
Alfred felt the warm sensation of the sunlight lightly kiss his face when he finally woke up. Everything he saw was in a haze. He woke up in bed with layers of blankets stacked on top of him. Was he sick? The American boy tried to remember what has happened before he blacked out.
The rain. The mud. The war. England! England… Alfred sat up to looked around and see where the gentleman was. He wasn't here. Alfred sighed and slid back underneath his covers. He didn't want to get up. He just wanted to rest. To forget about everything that had just happened… To…
"Alfred!" Alfred froze. Someone was calling out his name. "Alfred!" He quickly pretended that he was still asleep.
"Alfred!" It was England! Alfred was too shocked by the appearance the empire to really say anything. He tried to calm himself down; he took a quick peep to see his face. There were hints of concern on his face, was that a blush?
The Englishman groaned when he saw that Alfred was still asleep.
"Look, if you're still asleep, I'll just leave to the summit meeting without you. You're going to be late!" Why was he telling him this? What summit meeting? What was that? He felt the bed sheets shifting. England was sitting at his bedside!
England uttered in his ear. "There's food in the kitchen when you wake up. Eat them and come to the meeting, the address is on the fridge." A moment's silence reached his ear. England sat up and quietly left the room; America heard the front door close. After several minutes, Alfred sat up again. He was trying to absorb all of what he had just heard.
Okay, so he had just survived a war with the greatest empire on Earth and now he was okay? That felt strange to him. But… Alfred realized. He was free. He was independent. So why was England still here? Was this even his house? Alfred didn't recognize it.
The Englishman's one-sided conversation with him didn't make any sense; his words were an alien's tongue. None of it made sense. England acted so casual with him. As if nothing had happened. As if their war had never existed. As if they have always been with each other. Alfred's lips quivered.
The house turned out to be rather small. Smaller than what America was used to. As England had said, the kitchen already had food made for him. It was scones and jam. Yuck! He thought, twitching his nose.
He knew that if England was there, he would have scorned at the boy for making faces about his cooking. It's scones and jelly, not jam, you prat, the Englishman would have corrected him. Whatever, a little change in the English language wouldn't hurt.
Without actually tasting anything, which didn't matter since the scones were already partly burnt, Alfred explored more of the house, staring the strange objects that lay out before him. England said something about a fridge. The fridge turned out to be this giant rectangular prism shaped object that held large amounts of food. On the giant thing was a small note, Alfred recognized England's small neat written within a glance.
Alfred you prat, you better be alright when you're reading this!
Alfred scowled at the Englishman's use of the word, 'prat'. This was where the writing appeared thin and sharp. A sigh of impatience.
Food is on the table and the summit meeting will be due at 3:00 this afternoon.
Yeah, I noticed, Alfred thought dryly, I choked on one of them. He stared at the digital clock that was resting on the table counter. It was quarter to eight. He couldn't help but stare at the glowing numbers. What sort of machine was this? He continued down the note.
The train ride to New York will be a 4-5 hour ride, so you better be on time!
What's a train? Alfred panicked. He knew where New York was, of course he did. He once lived there! But what was the man thinking? Five hours? A trip to New York would take nine days (1)!
I won't be there to back you up this time!
Alfred gave a sad smile. That was the same thing England had told him the other time…
Tears fell down his chin as he stared at the last sentence.
Please be okay and don't do anything foolish.
Below the last words was the address to the said summit meeting. He would follow his advice… He wouldn't do anything stupid… But no matter how hard he tried, Alfred kept crying. ---
Lucid Memories [3b/?]
anonymous
July 14 2010, 17:41:26 UTC
Alfred couldn't help but feel unnerved as he walked though the city. He felt the stares of strangers as he walked by, he knew that there was something wrong here. The city was huge! Tall intimidating buildings soared through the skies, strange motor carriages raced by at such speeds, and thousands of peoples of different races passed by here and there. Was this really West Virginia?
What really shocked the American boy was the clothing they wore. Some of the men wore suits; others were more casual and just wore shirts and shorts. The women's skirts were so short! Alfred thought as he blushed at a passing girl who wore her dress up to her knees (2). The people themselves seemed to have their focus on Alfred.
After he had his inedible breakfast (he had to choke it down with milk), Alfred found out that none of his clothes fit. The suits were too big. Too wide. Most were at least a full size larger than him.
In the end, the American boy had to make due with wearing his old Revolution uniform, much to his embarrassment. He would normally be proud of wearing the old navy blue coat, but when he stepped into the city, he quickly realized that it brought in to much attention. Something that he did not want at the moment. It made him feel insecure. Out of place. The points and stares from the citizens were not helping either.
What was worse however; was that he was lost. Yes. He was lost. The last time he went into a town, he knew all of the people who inhabited the place. Now, almost everyone was a stranger to him. How strange. Was this some kind of dream? A nightmare?
Alfred stared at the crowded streets. He was trying to focus as he rushed through, he was trying to understand England's message. Where to go? Where to go? Where was he? How…
"Excuse me dear, do you need help?"
Alfred looked up from the ground to be face to face with a plump middle age woman. She had light brown curls, wore a soft rosy pink dress, and was carrying a small brown bag. Alfred strangely felt calm and noticed that the woman had a kind face.
"Y-yes m'am." He whispered. He had to remember the question. "C-can you please tell me ever so kindly of how to get to the Amtrak Station?" He showed her the name of the station that was from England's note.
"Never been to the train station, honey?" Alfred shook his head.
With patience, the middle age woman helped guild the young man to the place, helping him with each step of the way. Alfred gave the station people a sheepish grin when he had trouble with the money (3). However, he eventually got onto the train and was on his way. Before he left, he gave a small peck to the kind woman and thanked her for her help. The woman gave him a small smile waved her good bye.
Lucid Memories [3c/?]
anonymous
July 14 2010, 17:44:18 UTC
After five painful hours of sitting in the train, Alfred finally got off the strange vehicle. The thing was so fast… he thought. Five hours and I'm already in New York? Amazing… He wasn't afraid of the vehicle, oh no. It was quite the opposite: he was fascinated by them. The person who controlled the train however, didn't see it his way and quickly shooed him away when Alfred tried to get the captain to explain to him the mechanics of the fast machine. What a party pooper. Oh well.
Once he was off the train, he found himself lost again in the busy streets of New York City. West Virginia has changed, but New York… Oh my! It was too much for him to say. If he thought the buildings were tall back there, it was wrong. The buildings here were taller. Bigger. It must had reached into outer space!
Alfred's mind started to drift into space as he daydreamed, walking thought the traffic. He mind was imploded with all of the images. That giant screen on that building… was it magic? Wait, no… Alfred shook off the thought. There's no such thing as magic. He told himself, only England believes in his magic and fairies. What a racket the town had! He only found out later that it was actually music. What sort of place was this to call that noisy screaming as music?
How…
EEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!
Alfred turned around. His bright blue eyes widened at the sight of the motor carriage that was running straight to him! He could only continue gawking, not bothering to close his eyes at the thing.
He waited for death and closed his eyes. Alfred ran though his prayers, chanting each word, keeping each word close to his heart.
I wish for love.
The love of what? All was already lost!
I wish for peace.
Lies! He would never find peace. Now that he knew that England may still hate him for what he had done to the Englishman!
He wished to be in heaven.
He didn't even know where nations went when they died. What made him think that he would go to heaven when he had killed so many souls?
I wish for…
SSSCCCCRRRREEEEECCCCHH!
Nothing happened. The vehicle stopped. What? The vehicle abruptly stopped, missing the blond by a few inches. Alfred didn't notice the stares and shouts from the people around him. He didn't realized what had just happened. The machine's door opened up, revealing a young man in his late teens. That all that America took in.
The stranger's eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but Alfred felt the stranger's eyes harden at him. "What do you think you doing?" Alfred flinched at the anger directed at him.
"I…"
"Get in!" His voice was pressed. Alfred was surprised, but didn't move. G-get in?
"What are you waiting for?" The stranger was getting impatient.
Lucid Memories [3d/?]
anonymous
July 14 2010, 17:45:26 UTC
"Boy!" The American nation turned around to see a man in a blue suit with a strange black cap.
The man went to the stranger to ask him. "Do you know this young man?" His face was stern and cross.
"Of course I do." The other one told him coolly. "He's my brother."
"I- I am?" Alfred asked. He didn't recognize him. America blinked at them. The policeman, that was the police, right? The policeman looked at the driver with suspicion.
The stranger only laughed, he threw a quick glare at Alfred, work with me here, damn it!
"R-right!" Alfred tried to put on a straight face. "He's my brother! I forgot you see…" He tried to convince the police. "I have a bunch of siblings…I often forget their names and faces…"
The driver, Alfred just noticed that he shared the same shade of dirty blond that he had, nodded in agreement. As he nodded, America noticed that the boy even shared the same sole strand of hair he had! "He's due for a doctor's appointment and we can't be late. He's got OCD you know."
"Hey! I do not!" Alfred protested, he was ticked off. He had no idea what the driver was talking about, but he was pretty sure that there was nothing wrong with him.
Well…it didn't matter, because they was doing a good job of fooling the man. They were excused.
"Let's go." He told Alfred. Alfred hesitantly stepped in, unsure of what was going to happen to him. The back of the car turned out to be rather neat; he saw a box (4) tossed in the back of the seat.
Once he got in, the stranger looked back at Alfred before telling him. "I would buckle up your seat belt if I were you." Alfred looked at him in confusion. The other teen grinned, aggressively stamping his feet onto the gas without warning.
"What are we…AAAHHHHHH!" Alfred screamed when he was half way through his words. What the hell was he thinking? The driver raced through the streets, seeming to have not notice the protesting and honks from the other cars.
"WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!" He cheered. Alfred gagged. I think I'm going to be sick…
Much to Alfred's relieve, as they drove deeper into the streets, they began to slow down. They began to talk.
"You're on your way to the summit meeting… aren't you?" The question sounded casual.
"Yes…"
The other one smiled. "So am I."
Alfred wasn't sure how to respond, so he tried a simple question. "Who are you?"
In the sunlight, Alfred took a good look at the mysterious teen who took him. He was wearing a simple blue hooded jacket adorned over a red vest. The teen had skinny blue pants made from a type of fabric Alfred wasn't familiar with along with red and white shoes.
The stranger stared at him in shock. A small frown formed at his thin lips.
"You…you don't know me" His voice cracked.
Alfred stared back. "No…" Have they met? "Should I?"
"So you don't know me. Okay." A small sigh escaped from the stranger. "Do you know who you are?"
Lucid Memories [3e/?]
anonymous
July 14 2010, 17:46:23 UTC
"So you say…" Alfred hear the other utter as his face turned away to look at the traffic ahead of him. A small curtain of silence fell over them.
This only made Alfred confused. Was there more he wanted to say? The other teen told him that he was going to the summit meeting too!
Go ask him about it, a small voice nudged him.
No I won't! I don't need help! He argued with the voice.
You're going to look like a fool if you don't ask.
Alfred blinked back. That's what Art- England would say.
But you need to know!
I don't even know where I am! Or who this person is!
The other side told him gently. That only give you more the reason.
Why am I even arguing with you? Silence. Hey! Answer back! Nothing.
Alfred gave mentally groaned before the driver interrupted his thoughts. "You know…I didn't think I would see you here like that…"
The teen's voice was soft and dreamy as if his mind wasn't completely there at the present.
He turned around. Alfred saw that some of the boy's baby blond locks fell down in front of the glasses. The boy gave a good long look at Alfred. They were at the red light.
"Dad…" His voice was dry and husky. "What have you gotten yourself into?" Alfred's eyes widen at the words.
The American teen stared back the other blond. "D…dad?" He repeated the words in bewilderment. He shook his head at the teen driver.
"What do you think you're doing? Calling me dad…" He tried to shake it off. "I'm too young be anyone's father."
"But you said your name was Alfred." He stated. "Alfred F. Jones. The United States of America."
"How…"
"Look at me." The blond used his hands to grab the boy by the collar. "Look at me!" His face was wild. "Do you recognize me?" The question popped up again.
Alfred saw the bright blue eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. His eyes. My eyes. Alfred thought. No! It couldn't be!
"You!" America wouldn't stop. "I know you! But it can't be!"
"It is…" Was this really him?
Alfred's voice came out weak. "New York?"
New York smiled at his name. "Yes Dad…it's me…"
Author's Notes:
Nine days (1) - Back in the revolution days, the roads were so bad that it would take nine days to get from Virginia to New York, or something like that.
Knees (2) - This may not sound like a lot, but the people of the 20th century made a big deal out of it when their generation started to wear their skirts up to their knees.
Money (3) - Just to tell you guys, at Alfred's time, there was no official money system. Each state had its own money system; there was no Bank of the United States.
Be it magical mayhem/mishap/whatever you want so long as it makes SENSE, bring Rev!America to the present, replacing the current America. I don't really care as to what time in the Revolution you pull him from, so long as it's either during the war or just after it. England/Canada will be there when the "transformation" or whatever happens, either by chance or he (England or Canada) was already there on visit (or England was doing funky magic again in America's house). Basically, it's about England (other nations may help, too, if anon so chooses) healing America's broken heart (maybe healing his own in the process?). I don't care if through the healing process England falls in love with America or if they were already in an established relationshop, so long as it's US/UK/US.
Order doesn't matter, although I like US topping. *shrugs* Smut is also optional, but appreciated (naturally). XD Although, I'd also love to see the closeness of these two. BUT. It's up to the anon.
Multiple fills are automatically approved. I'd love to see the different viewpoints on this idea. ;)
BONUS: America has to attend one or more meetings despite his mental state.
BONUS 2: America is forced to wear his old Revolutionary clothing during a meeting 'cause he can't fit into his current clothes. (I believe he's a little shorter than the current America...definitely a helluva lot skinnier)
So...yeah. Um...I don't even know why/how I came up with this, but there ya go. XD
ReCAPTCHA: change douched...? Wut?
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Chapter 1: Regret
Rain poured down that day. The cold liquid splashed on America's face as he stared at the dark grey skies extending above him. Tip, tap, tip, tap. The rhythm of the small raindrops tapped in repetition. The American was too tired to be annoyed by the inconvenient weather. Too tired to be aware that fighting would be bad in this type of condition.
Somehow… somehow… he knew that on that today… he would have to face him. Just him. No one else. There would be no one to interfere. Not his men. Not even France (1).
The young boy felt his hand tighten his grip of his musket. Days of downpour had started to take effect on the feeble weapon. His army was weak and starving. The food's supplies would soon run out. If this went on, they would soon die from hunger!
His dirty blond hair was wet and damp. His knuckles were bleeding. His once true blue uniform that he was so proud of was now covered with blood and slime. A fine blue coat trimmed with strips of velvety red. It was just like England's. Except that it was blue, rather than that stunning red coat that stood out so clearly in the battlefield. Very impractical.
England… the teenager thought of his former guardian. The very man whom he had looked up to. The one who took care of him, fed him, nourished him. His big brother.
No! He told himself. He's not my brother! Not anymore! He thought, crying as he marched along with his men. The soft plat on the ground, foot against unstable soil, was ignored by the blond. This was not an unusual sight. He wasn't the only one crying. There were others who had cried over their wives, their children, their brothers, their family.
He felt like an orphan. He had no family to cry of. He never knew of his parents' identity. Were they like him? A nation? Or were they just mortals who passed away as quickly as they came? He didn't even know what they looked like.
His men were getting ready. Another battle was coming up.
Matthew, his twin brother… the boy was just like him in many ways, but was also the polar opposite of him. He was the personification of Canada. Just like he was the personification of America; but unlike his older brother, Canada was quieter. Better behaved. He was England's favorite. The stupid Tory, he thought. He gave him the chance to join him in pursue of independence, but his twin refused, staying loyal to England. Alfred saw this as a sign of betrayal. No brother of his would side with the enemy, right?
Their muskets were ready.
Francis was there, but he was no family either. He remembered how the Frenchman had tried to persuade the young American colony of joining him back than. When he chose England over France. He had a feeling that the Frenchman only wanted to help him out of revenge. To get back at England for taking away his Mathieu. His New France. His Canada. Or did the French nation only wanted his twin brother as a replacement of him? Anger bubbled underneath him. To an outsider, he was as cool as a cucumber. As much as Alfred hated to admit, he was probably just a tool in the eyes of the older nation. Just like how England had used him.
The rain poured harder, pelting his men like hail.
A sense of self pity plunged into the deep pit of Alfred's heart. He thought that England had loved him. Wasn't that why he wanted the American colony in the first place? Or did he just want him for his own self pleasure? Just to use him as a human trophy? To show the world how strong the British Empire was?
Cries of the enemy were heard clearly across the battlefront.
When they first met, England had shown him everything. How to cook, well, at least how to not burn something; clean, take care of himself, and his culture. Heck, his 'people', those who had migrated to America, were devoted to this Puritan belief. It was his first taste of European culture.
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The English nation would come and go, much to the small colony's reluctance, and would often leave him to take care of himself for extension of periods. He was okay with that. Because England would always come back. Just like he said he would.
But… soon… the taxes came… His big brother soon started to charge them with ridiculous taxes. That was hardly fair. The English man didn't even bother including them with representatives in the Parliament! His people, the Americans, started to rebel. They tried to cooperate with England. He tried to cooperate with England. He only wanted to stay being his little brother. Was that asking too much? He only wanted to be with him. Those pitiful attempts of union soon became attempts of rebellion. He was his own nation. He had his own people to worry of. He wanted to seek independence. To break away from England. That was all.
Alfred found his weak voice; "Hey England…" it cracked and was hoarse from exhaustion as he gave a weak smile to the man in front of him. His tears fell. Or was that just the rain?
"I guess I chose liberty after all…" Dull green eyes stared back at him. He had a desperate look in his eyes. No… The Englishman looked so small. So weak… Was this the England he knew?
"I'm not your child," Alfred gave full eye contact to him, continuing with his sentence. "Or your baby brother anymore…" He felt his wide eyes staring back, there was shock and sadness in those pupils.
England whispered. "America… I…"
Was it hate? Did England hate him? After all of the fighting they have gone through? The Boston Tea Party, the killing, the punishment his men inflicted on the Loyalists? He had to hate him. Who wouldn't? What kind of man would keep on loving someone who broke away from them?
No… This had to end. Now! He tried to reason with England. He tried. Alfred attempted to persuade himself. His people were taxed. Taxed for a war that had nothing to do with him. It was just a stupid war between him and the French nation. He didn't even considered him to be his brother! Just a thing. A piece of land. His property. He didn't see him as a human being…
He. America. Was going to break the last link. The last link that connected them.
Alfred quietly said the words. Loud and clear. "England." England already had all of his focus on him. "From now on…" The words were stuck. He couldn't breath! He felt this strange feeling of regret cluttered in his throat.
He started again. "From now on… I am independent." Lightning clashed in the background. "Acknowledge it!" He was breathless.
His eyes narrowed. England's eyes. The older nation shoved his musket towards him with no warning. Alfred instantly used jumped into his reflex and blocked his attack with his own. His heart stopped.
Why weren't his men doing anything? Alfred didn't bother to look back. They were either too shocked by the sudden attack or they just somehow knew that they shouldn't interfere with the fighting immortals. This was their fight.
So America was shocked when he heard the old man murmur. "You were always so naïve… you fool…" He was still pointing his weapon at the boy; the musket was shaking in his hand, America heard the splash on the ground. He had dropped his musket. His only weapon. He had nothing to defend himself with.
"You fool…" England moaned. "You idiot… There's no point in firing anymore is there…?" He was crying. Alfred couldn't take his eyes away from England. No… Arthur…
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"E-england?" Alfred called out his name, but it sounded more like a question rather than a statement. His eyes grew hazy…
Arthur and Alfred were playing in the woods… America's woods. The soft moist grass was sprayed with dew, reflecting numerous colors in them. The soft callings of the songbirds were heard off from the far distance. The small eight year old America was holding onto a sun hat. Everyday felt like it would last forever. Just him and England. They would eat together, play games of hopscotch or tag; he would help him set up tea parties…
"Let's go home." England smiled, his hands held out to reach him, the bright golden sun shone on his light corn blond bangs. His emerald green eyes glisten with warmth and delight. Alfred's small hands held out to reach them.
"England…" Alfred felt the warm tears tickle down his face. "You used to be…" Why? "…so big…" He stared at his former guardian. He felt so stiff. He had won… He had won…
Independence. The word was so lovely when it was first introduced to him, but was it really worth it? This independence? He did not feel the happiness and relief that he thought he would have felt. The two armies that were one fighting against each other just stood there, staring at their countries.
England… Do you still hate me? I… Before a complete thought formed, the independent boy's mind faded away, as he fell into unconsciousness.
England stared at the boy. No! Alfred? His emerald eyes widened as he went up to him, embracing him in his arms.
"America?" He whispered. Wake up damn it! The bloody fool. "Alfred? ALFRED!"
The English gentlemen cried as he shook the boy, realizing that he was knocked out. The men surrounding him only looked solemnly at the fallen boy. The rain continued to pour down hard.
Alfred…
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Author Notes: This is just an introduction; hopefully, the next few chapters will improve and be more interesting for you guys.
Both human names and nation names will be used. Human names will tend to be used depending on how close characters feel to each other.
France (1) - France did most of the fighting for the Americans. If it weren't for them, the American probably would have lost to the British army. It also helped that a certain Prussian general trained America into shape. Someone noted that this is not true, but I'll just label this as a debatable topic just to be safe.
Sorry for my inaccuracy in history. This story is meant to focus more on relations than history itself, but I'll try my best to be as accurate as possible.
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It was also because America learned (it's learnt!) some helpful tactics in war, such as guerrilla war. I'm not too sure if this is write, but according to my old history teacher, she told us that the British soldiers fought in rows and lines while the Americans fought in guerrilla style. The Americans will small in number compared to the British, but they won in the end.
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"Thanks for stopping by, England!" A certain loud blond thanked the Englishman. England grunted in response.
It was a typical sunny afternoon in West Virginia. America and England were sitting at the kitchen table, eating their lunch together. Arthur was surprised that the food wasn't hamburgers or a meal from McDonald's. He wondered where he had gone wrong with that boy… he never seems to eat anything except those blasted burgers these days…
What was the Englishman doing in America's house? He was coming by to visit him. This was nothing out of the ordinary. This was one of the times when Arthur would come to stay at Alfred's house in West Virginia, far from D.C. Living in the capitol was annoying sometimes, with all the politicians walking in and out though the whole day. It was troublesome. The American's house was actually out in the near suburbs, close to the city.
Alfred's kitchen was small. It was painted yellow, to bring in sunshine into the room. Not like it already has with the idiot's happy going personality. Besides the stove and fridge was the kitchen table, fit for two.
The last time Arthur came by, the American was living in a bigger house that was fit for several families. Than again… it was when he had fifty kids or so underneath his roof. It was strange to think of his former colony as a father. The thought of it made him feel old.
He stared down at the drooping turkey sandwich that has been sitting on his plate for awhile. The sandwich was quickly slapped together at the last minute by the way everything seemed to be stacked on here and there. Well, at least it wasn't a burger. .
"What's wrong?" England felt Alfred staring at him as he examined his lunch. His curiosity sounded sincere. There was no hint of laughing behind his question. The American was wearing his usually bright sunny smile. Damn. The boy smiled too much. What was there to smile for?
"Nothing." He told him. His voice was peaceful and soft. There really was nothing wrong with him. He was with America. His America. The little colony he once took care of. Sure, there were small disagreements, but it was part of their relationship. It was how they got along with each other. It wasn't like his relationship with Francis, who was always full of lust and his strange antics. No… England thought. Their relationship was special. It was something he had never felt before.
Alfred's smile grew wider. "Awww, not going to complain about my food, Iggy?"
The English man fumed while he mumbled to the American to shut up, groaning at the nickname his former colony had labeled him with. When he befriended Japan, the first thing he did was to ask him how to say England in Japanese. When the Japanese man told him that it was Igiritsu, the America thought that the name was too long, so he stuck to Iggy. So Iggy it was.
"Well," The American perkily said. "This is better than those terrible scones you made!" He watched with pleasure as blood traveled up through Arthur's cheeks. It's so much fun teasing this guy, Alfred thought with glee.
The Englishman wanted to strangle the idiot. "Hey!" He was still blushing. "I made those scones you bloody idiot!" He had to roll up the sleeves of his green vest as he started to eat.
"Ah, ha ha!" The stupid America laughed. "I know!" Why wouldn't he stop smiling! "I just like to watch your reactions!" He gave England a crooked grin. S-stupid Alfred!
"I-idiot… I thought you liked my food… You never complained about it when you were little…" He stared the soft azure blue eyes that were hidden behind Texas, his glasses. They were as clear as crystal.
Azure eyes blinked back. "I only ate them because I didn't want to hurt your feelings." Alfred told him. He stopped to push Texas up the bridge of his pointed nose. It was the truth. So many times, the Englishman would 'cook', only to have end up burning the said food or set something up on fire.
The American colony would have gagged and choke, trying not to make it apparent to his guardian. He didn't want to make him mad. He looked so happy when he ate his food. He didn't want to destroy that happy. That simple happiness that kept them together…
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"Remember the Revolutionary War?" The change of topic was so sudden. So out of place. Why did he bring up the subject? He thought the fool knew better than to bring up the subject of that particular war! He thought that he knew.
Anger flashed in his bright green eyes. "What about it?"
"Arthur…?" His voice was distant, "Are…" there was hesitation. "Are you still mad at me?" He sounded hurt.
"Alfred… I…" Arthur didn't know how to start! "I don't know." He admitted.
Arthur fell into deep thought; he still had mixed feeling about the whole thing. He didn't like to think about it, he always tried to avoid the subject all together. The nightmares would come, but those were usually reserved when America's birthday came around. No. He didn't want to think about it. Of course he hated America! It was his bloody damn fault that he was a mess! His fault that he had to suffer. That he broke his first love! It was all his stupid fault!
"England?" The Englishman withdrew back into reality.
"Eh…" This was awkward. "I'll think about it. Okay?" He told the American nation. "I need to get to some time to think about it. I don't know yet." He saw a sad look reaching in his friend's eyes.
"I see." England felt rather guilty. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't mad at him anymore, but that would be lying, because he didn't know for sure if he could truly be mad at him anymore. It was too confusing. Too complicated. Besides, America was his colony. His brother. Wasn't it wrong to feel like this to your brother?
The small frown on America face quickly transformed into a smile, it was as if the sadness wasn't there at all. Was Arthur imagining it all? Was it just an illusion?
The American roughly grabbed the England's hand. "Let's go!"
England flinched at the slightly touch of his hand, but his inhuman grip remained strong as ever. "W-where the hell are you taking me to, you fool?" He couldn't stop the blood from flowing into his cheeks again. Why couldn't he react to America like he did with everyone else?
"I got to get you out of the house sometimes you know!"
"Let go of me!" But his exclamation was ignored as America dragged the short man out of the room, mumbling and protesting as he went, arguing with the American. It was just a typical day with America.
Arthur was surprised of where Alfred had dragged him to. He was half expecting the idiot to bring to McDonalds, or take him to one of his stupid movie theaters. Instead, after running nonstop for awhile with the Englishman piggyback ridding on his back, they stopped at a local playground.
The small place was deserted, the sun was already setting. When they got to the swings, England climbed off of the American's back.
"Why did you bring me here?" He asked Alfred.
"Hmm…" He answered. He looked so peaceful as he laid on the ground, staring the white puffy clouds that were passing by. His dreaming expression may England slowly form a smile as the Englishman gently pushed himself on the swing. The two spent several minutes of complete silence. The only noise that was made was the sound of the swing and the swaying of the trees.
Arthur finally found his voice. "Alfred."
"Yeah?" Alfred looked back at him.
"Thanks for letting me come." The boy stared at him in shock. Shouldn't it have been in reverse? Usually, England would seem a bit reluctant to come over. Every single time. Why so nice all of the sudden?
"Don't…" Alfred closed his eyes. "Don't leave me." Arthur felt a sense of déjà vu. It was like when America was a colony again. Asking Arthur to don't leave the house.
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"I know that." Alfred whispered. "But…" His crystal blue eyes tried to blink away the tears. "I…the war… The Revolution…" At those words, everything suddenly blacked out, as Alfred fell into the darkness.
"Alfred! Are you?" England saw that America had fainted. "Alfred!" Please no… Not again… No…no…no… He thought as he tried to wake up the unconscious blond. Please… He remembered the smile the America had had his face when he asked him the question, "Do you still hate me?"
No, calm down you bloody fool. He just fainted. Take him back to your house. England tried to reason with himself. With a bit of struggle, he took his former colony by the arm and took him home, still full of worry. But he couldn't help but wonder of the cause of the spell…
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A/N: Stupid character limits. This is just a prologue too. The later chapters will definitely be very long.
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The rain. The mud. The war. England! England… Alfred sat up to looked around and see where the gentleman was. He wasn't here. Alfred sighed and slid back underneath his covers. He didn't want to get up. He just wanted to rest. To forget about everything that had just happened… To…
"Alfred!" Alfred froze. Someone was calling out his name. "Alfred!" He quickly pretended that he was still asleep.
"Alfred!" It was England! Alfred was too shocked by the appearance the empire to really say anything. He tried to calm himself down; he took a quick peep to see his face. There were hints of concern on his face, was that a blush?
The Englishman groaned when he saw that Alfred was still asleep.
"Look, if you're still asleep, I'll just leave to the summit meeting without you. You're going to be late!" Why was he telling him this? What summit meeting? What was that? He felt the bed sheets shifting. England was sitting at his bedside!
England uttered in his ear. "There's food in the kitchen when you wake up. Eat them and come to the meeting, the address is on the fridge." A moment's silence reached his ear. England sat up and quietly left the room; America heard the front door close. After several minutes, Alfred sat up again. He was trying to absorb all of what he had just heard.
Okay, so he had just survived a war with the greatest empire on Earth and now he was okay? That felt strange to him. But… Alfred realized. He was free. He was independent. So why was England still here? Was this even his house? Alfred didn't recognize it.
The Englishman's one-sided conversation with him didn't make any sense; his words were an alien's tongue. None of it made sense. England acted so casual with him. As if nothing had happened. As if their war had never existed. As if they have always been with each other. Alfred's lips quivered.
The house turned out to be rather small. Smaller than what America was used to. As England had said, the kitchen already had food made for him. It was scones and jam. Yuck! He thought, twitching his nose.
He knew that if England was there, he would have scorned at the boy for making faces about his cooking. It's scones and jelly, not jam, you prat, the Englishman would have corrected him. Whatever, a little change in the English language wouldn't hurt.
Without actually tasting anything, which didn't matter since the scones were already partly burnt, Alfred explored more of the house, staring the strange objects that lay out before him. England said something about a fridge. The fridge turned out to be this giant rectangular prism shaped object that held large amounts of food. On the giant thing was a small note, Alfred recognized England's small neat written within a glance.
Alfred you prat, you better be alright when you're reading this!
Alfred scowled at the Englishman's use of the word, 'prat'. This was where the writing appeared thin and sharp. A sigh of impatience.
Food is on the table and the summit meeting will be due at 3:00 this afternoon.
Yeah, I noticed, Alfred thought dryly, I choked on one of them. He stared at the digital clock that was resting on the table counter. It was quarter to eight. He couldn't help but stare at the glowing numbers. What sort of machine was this? He continued down the note.
The train ride to New York will be a 4-5 hour ride, so you better be on time!
What's a train? Alfred panicked. He knew where New York was, of course he did. He once lived there! But what was the man thinking? Five hours? A trip to New York would take nine days (1)!
I won't be there to back you up this time!
Alfred gave a sad smile. That was the same thing England had told him the other time…
Tears fell down his chin as he stared at the last sentence.
Please be okay and don't do anything foolish.
Below the last words was the address to the said summit meeting. He would follow his advice… He wouldn't do anything stupid… But no matter how hard he tried, Alfred kept crying.
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What really shocked the American boy was the clothing they wore. Some of the men wore suits; others were more casual and just wore shirts and shorts. The women's skirts were so short! Alfred thought as he blushed at a passing girl who wore her dress up to her knees (2). The people themselves seemed to have their focus on Alfred.
After he had his inedible breakfast (he had to choke it down with milk), Alfred found out that none of his clothes fit. The suits were too big. Too wide. Most were at least a full size larger than him.
In the end, the American boy had to make due with wearing his old Revolution uniform, much to his embarrassment. He would normally be proud of wearing the old navy blue coat, but when he stepped into the city, he quickly realized that it brought in to much attention. Something that he did not want at the moment. It made him feel insecure. Out of place. The points and stares from the citizens were not helping either.
What was worse however; was that he was lost. Yes. He was lost. The last time he went into a town, he knew all of the people who inhabited the place. Now, almost everyone was a stranger to him. How strange. Was this some kind of dream? A nightmare?
Alfred stared at the crowded streets. He was trying to focus as he rushed through, he was trying to understand England's message. Where to go? Where to go? Where was he? How…
"Excuse me dear, do you need help?"
Alfred looked up from the ground to be face to face with a plump middle age woman. She had light brown curls, wore a soft rosy pink dress, and was carrying a small brown bag. Alfred strangely felt calm and noticed that the woman had a kind face.
"Y-yes m'am." He whispered. He had to remember the question. "C-can you please tell me ever so kindly of how to get to the Amtrak Station?" He showed her the name of the station that was from England's note.
"Never been to the train station, honey?" Alfred shook his head.
With patience, the middle age woman helped guild the young man to the place, helping him with each step of the way. Alfred gave the station people a sheepish grin when he had trouble with the money (3). However, he eventually got onto the train and was on his way. Before he left, he gave a small peck to the kind woman and thanked her for her help. The woman gave him a small smile waved her good bye.
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Once he was off the train, he found himself lost again in the busy streets of New York City. West Virginia has changed, but New York… Oh my! It was too much for him to say. If he thought the buildings were tall back there, it was wrong. The buildings here were taller. Bigger. It must had reached into outer space!
Alfred's mind started to drift into space as he daydreamed, walking thought the traffic. He mind was imploded with all of the images. That giant screen on that building… was it magic? Wait, no… Alfred shook off the thought. There's no such thing as magic. He told himself, only England believes in his magic and fairies. What a racket the town had! He only found out later that it was actually music. What sort of place was this to call that noisy screaming as music?
How…
EEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!
Alfred turned around. His bright blue eyes widened at the sight of the motor carriage that was running straight to him! He could only continue gawking, not bothering to close his eyes at the thing.
He waited for death and closed his eyes. Alfred ran though his prayers, chanting each word, keeping each word close to his heart.
I wish for love.
The love of what? All was already lost!
I wish for peace.
Lies! He would never find peace. Now that he knew that England may still hate him for what he had done to the Englishman!
He wished to be in heaven.
He didn't even know where nations went when they died. What made him think that he would go to heaven when he had killed so many souls?
I wish for…
SSSCCCCRRRREEEEECCCCHH!
Nothing happened. The vehicle stopped. What? The vehicle abruptly stopped, missing the blond by a few inches. Alfred didn't notice the stares and shouts from the people around him. He didn't realized what had just happened. The machine's door opened up, revealing a young man in his late teens. That all that America took in.
The stranger's eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but Alfred felt the stranger's eyes harden at him. "What do you think you doing?" Alfred flinched at the anger directed at him.
"I…"
"Get in!" His voice was pressed. Alfred was surprised, but didn't move. G-get in?
"What are you waiting for?" The stranger was getting impatient.
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The man went to the stranger to ask him. "Do you know this young man?" His face was stern and cross.
"Of course I do." The other one told him coolly. "He's my brother."
"I- I am?" Alfred asked. He didn't recognize him. America blinked at them. The policeman, that was the police, right? The policeman looked at the driver with suspicion.
The stranger only laughed, he threw a quick glare at Alfred, work with me here, damn it!
"R-right!" Alfred tried to put on a straight face. "He's my brother! I forgot you see…" He tried to convince the police. "I have a bunch of siblings…I often forget their names and faces…"
The driver, Alfred just noticed that he shared the same shade of dirty blond that he had, nodded in agreement. As he nodded, America noticed that the boy even shared the same sole strand of hair he had! "He's due for a doctor's appointment and we can't be late. He's got OCD you know."
"Hey! I do not!" Alfred protested, he was ticked off. He had no idea what the driver was talking about, but he was pretty sure that there was nothing wrong with him.
Well…it didn't matter, because they was doing a good job of fooling the man. They were excused.
"Let's go." He told Alfred. Alfred hesitantly stepped in, unsure of what was going to happen to him. The back of the car turned out to be rather neat; he saw a box (4) tossed in the back of the seat.
Once he got in, the stranger looked back at Alfred before telling him. "I would buckle up your seat belt if I were you." Alfred looked at him in confusion. The other teen grinned, aggressively stamping his feet onto the gas without warning.
"What are we…AAAHHHHHH!" Alfred screamed when he was half way through his words. What the hell was he thinking? The driver raced through the streets, seeming to have not notice the protesting and honks from the other cars.
"WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!" He cheered. Alfred gagged. I think I'm going to be sick…
Much to Alfred's relieve, as they drove deeper into the streets, they began to slow down. They began to talk.
"You're on your way to the summit meeting… aren't you?" The question sounded casual.
"Yes…"
The other one smiled. "So am I."
Alfred wasn't sure how to respond, so he tried a simple question. "Who are you?"
In the sunlight, Alfred took a good look at the mysterious teen who took him. He was wearing a simple blue hooded jacket adorned over a red vest. The teen had skinny blue pants made from a type of fabric Alfred wasn't familiar with along with red and white shoes.
The stranger stared at him in shock. A small frown formed at his thin lips.
"You…you don't know me" His voice cracked.
Alfred stared back. "No…" Have they met? "Should I?"
"So you don't know me. Okay." A small sigh escaped from the stranger. "Do you know who you are?"
That was an easy question. "I'm Alfred."
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This only made Alfred confused. Was there more he wanted to say? The other teen told him that he was going to the summit meeting too!
Go ask him about it, a small voice nudged him.
No I won't! I don't need help! He argued with the voice.
You're going to look like a fool if you don't ask.
Alfred blinked back. That's what Art- England would say.
But you need to know!
I don't even know where I am! Or who this person is!
The other side told him gently. That only give you more the reason.
Why am I even arguing with you? Silence. Hey! Answer back! Nothing.
Alfred gave mentally groaned before the driver interrupted his thoughts. "You know…I didn't think I would see you here like that…"
The teen's voice was soft and dreamy as if his mind wasn't completely there at the present.
He turned around. Alfred saw that some of the boy's baby blond locks fell down in front of the glasses. The boy gave a good long look at Alfred. They were at the red light.
"Dad…" His voice was dry and husky. "What have you gotten yourself into?" Alfred's eyes widen at the words.
The American teen stared back the other blond. "D…dad?" He repeated the words in bewilderment. He shook his head at the teen driver.
"What do you think you're doing? Calling me dad…" He tried to shake it off. "I'm too young be anyone's father."
"But you said your name was Alfred." He stated. "Alfred F. Jones. The United States of America."
"How…"
"Look at me." The blond used his hands to grab the boy by the collar. "Look at me!" His face was wild. "Do you recognize me?" The question popped up again.
Alfred saw the bright blue eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. His eyes. My eyes. Alfred thought. No! It couldn't be!
"You!" America wouldn't stop. "I know you! But it can't be!"
"It is…" Was this really him?
Alfred's voice came out weak. "New York?"
New York smiled at his name. "Yes Dad…it's me…"
Author's Notes:
Nine days (1) - Back in the revolution days, the roads were so bad that it would take nine days to get from Virginia to New York, or something like that.
Knees (2) - This may not sound like a lot, but the people of the 20th century made a big deal out of it when their generation started to wear their skirts up to their knees.
Money (3) - Just to tell you guys, at Alfred's time, there was no official money system. Each state had its own money system; there was no Bank of the United States.
Box (4) - camera
Sorry for such a long entry.
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