Star Spangled Banner.
Title: Star Spangled Banner.
Author/Artist: hihippy
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, America, Canada. Tony Blair too!
Rating: T. Sensitive Theme, very light cursive language (Hello, England).
Warnings: Based on 9/11, so sensitive themes here. Very light language, human names, Tony Blair in what would be OOCness.
Summary: Inspired by this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwrX-LN9-L0 and quote of "A Mother England singing a lullaby to her grieving American child." Basically, short drabble oneshot on Arthur's reaction and actions of the whole day.
This wasn't supposed to happen to you.
It was meant to be a normal Tuesday Afternoon. It was a normal Tuesday afternoon, just a quick break for a cup of tea and some mindless small talk with Blair. We were at Number 10 - some small, insignificant meetings were being held between him and a few figures, so there wasn't much to this day. I was rather looking forward to returning home.
This was, of course, till someone had burst into the room. It was one of the secretaries, I believe, someone who I'd seen about a few times. Her eyes were wide, her chest was heaving in breathlessness, and there was a piece of paper in her hand, clutched tightly.
"Mr Prime Minister Sir, could you please follow me to the TV - it's an emergency."
Tony's expression flickered into confusion, but he nodded politely and placed his cup down. I followed behind them, inviting myself to the request. I wasn't held back, so I assumed I was included too. She led us, silently and hurriedly, to one of the rooms in the house which contained a TV. There was one or two TV's in the main house, but it was big enough that there were a few of Blair's cabinet gathered around too. We made our way through to the front of the screen, where it focused on two towers. The monotonous, but yet somehow still calm voice of one of the BBC presenters hummed out over all of us.
"... The North Tower has been struck by what appears to be an Americans Airlines flight, and is suspected to be hijacked..."
I knew those towers. Rising skyscrapers, High up and peaking against the clear blue sky, corrupted by the swirling plume of smoke.
I knew...
"Lets turn to our Correspondant at the scene, in New York.."
New York.
New York.
A small thud hit the carpet. A few people looked down to the tea absorbing into the fabric, but it was only Tony who looked up to my eyes widening, a hand being brought up to my mouth in the horror of realisation.
Alfred.
I stumbled back, my choked gasp of surprised spluttering between my fingers as I burst back out of the door. Before Blair could try and call me back I'd rushed down the hallways to one of the smaller studies, where I was sure there was a phone. I pushed it open and lurched for it, hammering a number against the buttons.
Alfred had never experienced anything like this before. Even if this whole ... event wasn't as serious as it could be (but there was something, deep deep down, nagging me that it was just as serious as people were dreading), Alfred still wouldn't know. He'd hide it, I know he would, but he'd be scared no matter what was happening to him.
My breath caught against itself as the tone of the phone flickered into life. The downright git would probably answer with his stupid chipper 'Hey Artie, what's the deal?' and cause me another heart attack.
I hoped that's how he answered.
Ring, ring...
If he was going to answer at all..
The phone was slammed shakily back down on the reciever, just as someone peeked their head round the door.
"Is there---"
"Tony, he's not answering."
He paused, his fingers grasping the side of the door. His expression furrowed, the deep lines in his forehead crippling against each other.
"I can try to get into contact with the Presi--"
"What bloody good is that going to do?! Alfred told me he had the day off--"
We both paused, looking at each other before I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I swallowed uneasily and shook my head.
"Sorry."
The other shook his head, dismissing the motion. I was staring back down at the phone again, having lifted it off the reciever again. I could hear it ringing from here, the piercing tones repeating itself again, and again. After how long I had spent being constantly annoyed, constantly frustrated after every time he'd called up just to bug me or to 'hang out', or to ask me the most ridiculous questions, his annoying shrill of laughter shattering the air and usually my ear drums..
I felt myself gazing at the phone, and wishing for that laugh to be the one thing I could hear right now.
The tone went dead. The phone was slammed back down, of which I turned around and Tony was standing right beside me. I put my hands up and pressed them against his arms, as though in a bid to keep him out of the way and to restrain myself. My eyes tried to avoid his.
"Tony, America's still young - he's not going to know what's happening to him. I-I need to get to him, I need to tell him, show him that..... I should be there...Because he's an absolute idiot and doesn't know what he's doing half the time..."
My boss studied me. I wasn't exactly holding his expression, but I could feel his own eyes glancing me over for a moment. The only time he'd seen me in some sort of a state was probably in '97, the year that he'd become Prime Minnister and first met me.
A hand patted at my shoulder.
"I'll see about getting a plane over, though I might have problems. But I can try. Alright?"
He didn't wait for me; rather trusting that I wouldn't have the capacity to do so accurately, and left the room. I was left in silence, and was only left to look outside, staring up at the clouds in the sky.
Alfred...
---
"..Arthur.. Arthur..?"
"..Alfred, is that you?---"
"No, it's Matthew..... Arthur... I found him...He's in a state, he was knocked out when I found him, and he's in shock... but I got him to the hospital and he's there and that's where I am now.. Oh god..."
"...Matthew.. M-Matthew? Don't hang up on me!--"
---
"A third flight has struck the Pentagon. No one is sure what is happening, but reports of a terrorist attack is what may be the cause of this tragedy."
"The South tower has collapsed, I repeat, the South Tower has collapsed."
---
"Matthew! What's happening to him now?!"
"He... He's still in shock, mainly. He screamed when the tower collapsed, but I've been trying to keep him conscious. Heard nothing from his boss."
"The git..."
"They've shut down the airspace, Arthur. I've got to redirect all the flights coming in."
"I'm coming over. I'll be there in a few hours. Tell that idiot to hang on."
"I'm sure he will.. This is Alfred..."
---
"The North Tower has just collapsed. A plane has struck the Pentagon. Reports of hijacking are surrounding the attacks. The numbers of casualties so far can not even begin to be accounted for. This has been a black mark in America's history, and it is not yet over. Terrorists are out in America, and nobody is sure if anyone is yet still to strike. The people are afraid and lost, in this hour of need. They are confused, though are trying to pull together as a country - no as a world as best they can. No one would expect this day to come so soon.
America is under attack."
---
You'd have expected the hospital to have been a frenzied mess of people running about, calling to each other, and rushing bloodied patients into surgery.
There was a deathly silence. Nurses murmered to each other in the reception, people passed by silently. A TV was murmering in the background, of which a few people were still stood around, gawping at. It was as though the whole country was in shock, and the feeling was hanging around like some permanent shadow.
A nurse came up to me and smiled. I could still see the shock penetrating her own emotion.
"Looking for a Mr. Jones, I assume? Follow this way."
Matthew must've told them. I quickly nodded, a sigh escaping me as we strode down the white, sterilised hallways. The flight had been nothing but hell. Spending six hours on a plane with no real news on what was happening or what could happen was not a healthy way to keep your composure. Especially when you had only one thing on your mind - a thought that you never wanted to have thought, even if you'd never realised it before.
The room was right on the end of the hallway, assumingly to keep out of people's way. My stomach lurched as the nurse stopped, and let me go on forward on my own. I stared at the doorhandle, though quickly strode inside.
The first thing I noticed was blood. Blood on bandages, blood stained slightly on the bed, blood on the boy...
He seemed to notice me before I saw him. There was a choke of something - a sob, a gasp, before those lips blubbered out two words.
"... T-They--A-Arth--"
"...Oh, Alfred..."
A chair had been pulled up beside the bed. We were alone in the room, and Alfred was propped up against some pillows. His shirt had been peeled off him and the wounds were clear from here - Head, neck, shoulders, arms - they were all pressed in soft pads and bandages. He was still bleeding a bit in some places, which I could see. Noticing a split of blood just above his eyebrow, I reached and picked a tissue from the box to dab at it, suddenly. His expression winced, but his eyes remained shot open, shaking.
Out of all the injuries on his body, those were the worst. There was usually a (admittedly) brilliant blue sheen to them, almost handsome in a way. A sort of sheen that shouted freedom and liberty and love and everything that made America what he was and what people could love him for.
As they darted back at me, those shocked blues surveyed me. Of all the shock and frustration and fear I'd had built up over the day, nothing could compare. He didn't even need to speak any words. Through those eyes, it was clear. He was hurt, he was shocked; he didn't know why someone had done this to him, his people; he didn't know WHO would want to do it; he was confused - America had never felt something like this before, not on this level, so he didn't know what to do except be stunned into silence. That shout of freedom and liberty was gone; crumbling down to strip back and reveal the core child that he really was inside.
Alfred was plain scared.
"Hey hey, shush.." I murmered, looking down to the free arm that had reached out to grasp my shirt. The grasp trembled, and he looked away.
"T-They...W-W--"
The grip loosened, and I put my hand over his.
"We don't know why. But I swear, Alfred, we'll stop them. We won't let them do this to you anymore."
I saw him shaking his head. I saw him bite his lip. Was he about to cry? I never liked seeing Alfred cry. It wasn't something that suited him.
After that point, I just forgot about everything that I'd let build up over the coarse of the day.
"S-Sur--"
"Yes. I'm positive. Now go to sleep. You'll be safe now."
I patted the top of his hand, before I let go. He stared down at the bed covers.
"C-Can't..."
"Of course you can sleep. Nothing's going to happen to you because you have me and Matthew here and everyone else."
I knew this sort of process. The 'too-scared-to-sleep' format. It was a format I should be used to from him as a child, but it shouldn't have been in this format...
He shook his head again, before I rolled my eyes and slowly shifted myself onto the edge of the bed. Guessing where the worst of the injuries would be, I slowly wrapped an arm around his torso to let him lean against me. Once he slowly relaxed into it, me quickly acknowledging that he seemed grateful for the familarity of body warmth, he closed his eyes gently. He was shaking, and I could feel it. I whispered against his ear.
"Shhhh."
Smoothing my fingers through his hair in what hopefully was a comforting motion, I leant my head against the top of his. There was no reason for me to be here, really. Why was I here, damnit? Bloody kid still made me worry. Wasn't I meant to not have to bother with these things about two hundred years back now?
He grunted, and I inhaled. Damnit, what always sent him to sleep as a child?
I shifted up a little more against him, my fingers threading gently.
"Oh, say can you see..."
He tightened at the realisation.
"By the dawn's early light..."
Why did Alfred's song have to be so difficult to sing?
"What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight's last gleaming.."
I felt his posture relax, just slightly. Come on Alfred, you could do this. Sleeping wasn't hard. Not with what you might have to face soon.
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight..."
America could fight all this. Not alone though...
"O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air..."
Eyes closing, slowly, slowly...
"Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there..."
Alfred was a child practically, I knew that. A child with a lot of power that he probably shouldn't have had so soon... It was why he'd got hurt so badly. A big shock to such a young nation wasn't going to go down well once the whole event passed, and I knew that much....
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave.."
Mind, this was the United States of America. Land of Dreams. So maybe...
"O'er the land of the free,
..and the home..
..of the..
..Brave..."
I looked down.
He was fast asleep.
After a moment of watching him, I gently laid him back down on the bed, where he slipped on his side slightly and clutched at his pillow. Dreaming like any other normal person should. Hopefully nothing too bad, though. That was the last thing anybody needed.
I remained in that spot for a few more minutes, making sure he didn't wake up screaming or such all of a sudden. After I was assured otherwise, I stood up, and made to leave the room for now.
America was about to face something that even I'd never facd before.
But for now, I would let him sleep.
You weren't supposed to get hurt..
Author/Artist: hihippy
Character(s) or Pairing(s): England, America, Canada. Tony Blair too!
Rating: T. Sensitive Theme, very light cursive language (Hello, England).
Warnings: Based on 9/11, so sensitive themes here. Very light language, human names, Tony Blair in what would be OOCness.
Summary: Inspired by this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwrX-LN9-L0 and quote of "A Mother England singing a lullaby to her grieving American child." Basically, short drabble oneshot on Arthur's reaction and actions of the whole day.
This wasn't supposed to happen to you.
It was meant to be a normal Tuesday Afternoon. It was a normal Tuesday afternoon, just a quick break for a cup of tea and some mindless small talk with Blair. We were at Number 10 - some small, insignificant meetings were being held between him and a few figures, so there wasn't much to this day. I was rather looking forward to returning home.
This was, of course, till someone had burst into the room. It was one of the secretaries, I believe, someone who I'd seen about a few times. Her eyes were wide, her chest was heaving in breathlessness, and there was a piece of paper in her hand, clutched tightly.
"Mr Prime Minister Sir, could you please follow me to the TV - it's an emergency."
Tony's expression flickered into confusion, but he nodded politely and placed his cup down. I followed behind them, inviting myself to the request. I wasn't held back, so I assumed I was included too. She led us, silently and hurriedly, to one of the rooms in the house which contained a TV. There was one or two TV's in the main house, but it was big enough that there were a few of Blair's cabinet gathered around too. We made our way through to the front of the screen, where it focused on two towers. The monotonous, but yet somehow still calm voice of one of the BBC presenters hummed out over all of us.
"... The North Tower has been struck by what appears to be an Americans Airlines flight, and is suspected to be hijacked..."
I knew those towers. Rising skyscrapers, High up and peaking against the clear blue sky, corrupted by the swirling plume of smoke.
I knew...
"Lets turn to our Correspondant at the scene, in New York.."
New York.
New York.
A small thud hit the carpet. A few people looked down to the tea absorbing into the fabric, but it was only Tony who looked up to my eyes widening, a hand being brought up to my mouth in the horror of realisation.
Alfred.
I stumbled back, my choked gasp of surprised spluttering between my fingers as I burst back out of the door. Before Blair could try and call me back I'd rushed down the hallways to one of the smaller studies, where I was sure there was a phone. I pushed it open and lurched for it, hammering a number against the buttons.
Alfred had never experienced anything like this before. Even if this whole ... event wasn't as serious as it could be (but there was something, deep deep down, nagging me that it was just as serious as people were dreading), Alfred still wouldn't know. He'd hide it, I know he would, but he'd be scared no matter what was happening to him.
My breath caught against itself as the tone of the phone flickered into life. The downright git would probably answer with his stupid chipper 'Hey Artie, what's the deal?' and cause me another heart attack.
I hoped that's how he answered.
Ring, ring...
If he was going to answer at all..
The phone was slammed shakily back down on the reciever, just as someone peeked their head round the door.
"Is there---"
"Tony, he's not answering."
He paused, his fingers grasping the side of the door. His expression furrowed, the deep lines in his forehead crippling against each other.
"I can try to get into contact with the Presi--"
"What bloody good is that going to do?! Alfred told me he had the day off--"
We both paused, looking at each other before I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I swallowed uneasily and shook my head.
"Sorry."
The other shook his head, dismissing the motion. I was staring back down at the phone again, having lifted it off the reciever again. I could hear it ringing from here, the piercing tones repeating itself again, and again. After how long I had spent being constantly annoyed, constantly frustrated after every time he'd called up just to bug me or to 'hang out', or to ask me the most ridiculous questions, his annoying shrill of laughter shattering the air and usually my ear drums..
I felt myself gazing at the phone, and wishing for that laugh to be the one thing I could hear right now.
The tone went dead. The phone was slammed back down, of which I turned around and Tony was standing right beside me. I put my hands up and pressed them against his arms, as though in a bid to keep him out of the way and to restrain myself. My eyes tried to avoid his.
"Tony, America's still young - he's not going to know what's happening to him. I-I need to get to him, I need to tell him, show him that..... I should be there...Because he's an absolute idiot and doesn't know what he's doing half the time..."
My boss studied me. I wasn't exactly holding his expression, but I could feel his own eyes glancing me over for a moment. The only time he'd seen me in some sort of a state was probably in '97, the year that he'd become Prime Minnister and first met me.
A hand patted at my shoulder.
"I'll see about getting a plane over, though I might have problems. But I can try. Alright?"
He didn't wait for me; rather trusting that I wouldn't have the capacity to do so accurately, and left the room. I was left in silence, and was only left to look outside, staring up at the clouds in the sky.
Alfred...
---
"..Arthur.. Arthur..?"
"..Alfred, is that you?---"
"No, it's Matthew..... Arthur... I found him...He's in a state, he was knocked out when I found him, and he's in shock... but I got him to the hospital and he's there and that's where I am now.. Oh god..."
"...Matthew.. M-Matthew? Don't hang up on me!--"
---
"A third flight has struck the Pentagon. No one is sure what is happening, but reports of a terrorist attack is what may be the cause of this tragedy."
"The South tower has collapsed, I repeat, the South Tower has collapsed."
---
"Matthew! What's happening to him now?!"
"He... He's still in shock, mainly. He screamed when the tower collapsed, but I've been trying to keep him conscious. Heard nothing from his boss."
"The git..."
"They've shut down the airspace, Arthur. I've got to redirect all the flights coming in."
"I'm coming over. I'll be there in a few hours. Tell that idiot to hang on."
"I'm sure he will.. This is Alfred..."
---
"The North Tower has just collapsed. A plane has struck the Pentagon. Reports of hijacking are surrounding the attacks. The numbers of casualties so far can not even begin to be accounted for. This has been a black mark in America's history, and it is not yet over. Terrorists are out in America, and nobody is sure if anyone is yet still to strike. The people are afraid and lost, in this hour of need. They are confused, though are trying to pull together as a country - no as a world as best they can. No one would expect this day to come so soon.
America is under attack."
---
You'd have expected the hospital to have been a frenzied mess of people running about, calling to each other, and rushing bloodied patients into surgery.
There was a deathly silence. Nurses murmered to each other in the reception, people passed by silently. A TV was murmering in the background, of which a few people were still stood around, gawping at. It was as though the whole country was in shock, and the feeling was hanging around like some permanent shadow.
A nurse came up to me and smiled. I could still see the shock penetrating her own emotion.
"Looking for a Mr. Jones, I assume? Follow this way."
Matthew must've told them. I quickly nodded, a sigh escaping me as we strode down the white, sterilised hallways. The flight had been nothing but hell. Spending six hours on a plane with no real news on what was happening or what could happen was not a healthy way to keep your composure. Especially when you had only one thing on your mind - a thought that you never wanted to have thought, even if you'd never realised it before.
The room was right on the end of the hallway, assumingly to keep out of people's way. My stomach lurched as the nurse stopped, and let me go on forward on my own. I stared at the doorhandle, though quickly strode inside.
The first thing I noticed was blood. Blood on bandages, blood stained slightly on the bed, blood on the boy...
He seemed to notice me before I saw him. There was a choke of something - a sob, a gasp, before those lips blubbered out two words.
"... T-They--A-Arth--"
"...Oh, Alfred..."
A chair had been pulled up beside the bed. We were alone in the room, and Alfred was propped up against some pillows. His shirt had been peeled off him and the wounds were clear from here - Head, neck, shoulders, arms - they were all pressed in soft pads and bandages. He was still bleeding a bit in some places, which I could see. Noticing a split of blood just above his eyebrow, I reached and picked a tissue from the box to dab at it, suddenly. His expression winced, but his eyes remained shot open, shaking.
Out of all the injuries on his body, those were the worst. There was usually a (admittedly) brilliant blue sheen to them, almost handsome in a way. A sort of sheen that shouted freedom and liberty and love and everything that made America what he was and what people could love him for.
As they darted back at me, those shocked blues surveyed me. Of all the shock and frustration and fear I'd had built up over the day, nothing could compare. He didn't even need to speak any words. Through those eyes, it was clear. He was hurt, he was shocked; he didn't know why someone had done this to him, his people; he didn't know WHO would want to do it; he was confused - America had never felt something like this before, not on this level, so he didn't know what to do except be stunned into silence. That shout of freedom and liberty was gone; crumbling down to strip back and reveal the core child that he really was inside.
Alfred was plain scared.
"Hey hey, shush.." I murmered, looking down to the free arm that had reached out to grasp my shirt. The grasp trembled, and he looked away.
"T-They...W-W--"
The grip loosened, and I put my hand over his.
"We don't know why. But I swear, Alfred, we'll stop them. We won't let them do this to you anymore."
I saw him shaking his head. I saw him bite his lip. Was he about to cry? I never liked seeing Alfred cry. It wasn't something that suited him.
After that point, I just forgot about everything that I'd let build up over the coarse of the day.
"S-Sur--"
"Yes. I'm positive. Now go to sleep. You'll be safe now."
I patted the top of his hand, before I let go. He stared down at the bed covers.
"C-Can't..."
"Of course you can sleep. Nothing's going to happen to you because you have me and Matthew here and everyone else."
I knew this sort of process. The 'too-scared-to-sleep' format. It was a format I should be used to from him as a child, but it shouldn't have been in this format...
He shook his head again, before I rolled my eyes and slowly shifted myself onto the edge of the bed. Guessing where the worst of the injuries would be, I slowly wrapped an arm around his torso to let him lean against me. Once he slowly relaxed into it, me quickly acknowledging that he seemed grateful for the familarity of body warmth, he closed his eyes gently. He was shaking, and I could feel it. I whispered against his ear.
"Shhhh."
Smoothing my fingers through his hair in what hopefully was a comforting motion, I leant my head against the top of his. There was no reason for me to be here, really. Why was I here, damnit? Bloody kid still made me worry. Wasn't I meant to not have to bother with these things about two hundred years back now?
He grunted, and I inhaled. Damnit, what always sent him to sleep as a child?
I shifted up a little more against him, my fingers threading gently.
"Oh, say can you see..."
He tightened at the realisation.
"By the dawn's early light..."
Why did Alfred's song have to be so difficult to sing?
"What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight's last gleaming.."
I felt his posture relax, just slightly. Come on Alfred, you could do this. Sleeping wasn't hard. Not with what you might have to face soon.
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight..."
America could fight all this. Not alone though...
"O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air..."
Eyes closing, slowly, slowly...
"Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there..."
Alfred was a child practically, I knew that. A child with a lot of power that he probably shouldn't have had so soon... It was why he'd got hurt so badly. A big shock to such a young nation wasn't going to go down well once the whole event passed, and I knew that much....
"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave.."
Mind, this was the United States of America. Land of Dreams. So maybe...
"O'er the land of the free,
..and the home..
..of the..
..Brave..."
I looked down.
He was fast asleep.
After a moment of watching him, I gently laid him back down on the bed, where he slipped on his side slightly and clutched at his pillow. Dreaming like any other normal person should. Hopefully nothing too bad, though. That was the last thing anybody needed.
I remained in that spot for a few more minutes, making sure he didn't wake up screaming or such all of a sudden. After I was assured otherwise, I stood up, and made to leave the room for now.
America was about to face something that even I'd never facd before.
But for now, I would let him sleep.
You weren't supposed to get hurt..