Teleported Into the Looking Glass(19)
Title: Teleported Into the Looking Glass
Author: mistressssnakey
Character(s): America, Japan, Italy and Russia(for now).
Pairing(s): Pairings will be announced as the show up.
Rating: PG13(this chapter is pretty PG, but rating will go up).
Warnings: Some OOC.
Summary: America, Italy and Japan find themselves in an alternate reality after a failed experiment. There things are quickly put at stake.
This story can be found at FF.net
Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21]
The soldiers had lined up. Their uniforms did not match like those of the approaching British Army. They weren't even an Army in comparison to their enemies. Just militia men, militia men that now stood against one of the greatest forces.
America glanced at the red coats and then back at his own men. They weren't even half the numbers the Continental Army had months prior. Those that hadn't died and or had been captured had left. Their spirits crushed by the many losses. America couldn't blame them. They had even lost some of their best men. The loyalist numbers were growing, while the patriots were decreasing.
Maybe they were right, this war wouldn't last for much longer. America turned away from the battlefield in anger. He was tired, but he'd put everything he had on this war. His people had done the same.
"Mr. America you should lie down." America heard the soldier call after him, but his mind was elsewhere.
He had tried to get France to help, but they were still trying to recover from their losses against the British Empire. They had already lost their New France colony to them. They didn't want to risk another war with England and they didn't really believe that the Colonist could stand a chance on winning.
Spain had tried to lend him a hand with ammunitions. But they also didn't want to go against England and in the end their help wasn't enough. They needed more than just a few weapons. It was the same with the rest of Europe. Not even Canada wanted to help him.
That only angered him more. He'd trusted Canada… they were. They were supposed to be together. But Canada saw nothing wrong with staying a Colony. Even after England had taken him from France, he preferred to stay loyal to him?
England. America wanted to be angry at the other. But deep down he knew it wasn't his fault. As nations sometimes they were forced to do things they didn't want, just because it was what their people and government wished for.
That still didn't make it any easier. He felt alone. He still had his people, but their spirits had weakened and so many had lost so much already. That's why he also was unable to blame them for deserting.
Out of the camp the American rested his back against a tree. The sky above was clear, with a bright sun shining down on them, almost mocking his internal struggle. A cloudy sky with rain pouring down on his would be more fitting.
America reached forward towards the sky, with each passing day it, along with chances of victory felt more distant. His arm felt back to his side, he wanted to push the negative thoughts away. His eyes drifted close at one point. In such a pleasant day he wanted the sun to warm his aching body. But it's warm didn't reach him anymore.
The sun moved across the sky, both armies continued to prepare for the upcoming decisive and final battle.
It had been almost a massacre for the colonial forces. Some of their already damaged weapons had started to fail. The lines began to break, the Generals unable to keep everyone together.
America continued beside his men, at least those who remained. He turned around yelling at his men to keep order when it finally happened.
The pain traveled from his shoulder down his arm and body. The force from the impact caused his weapon to slip from his fingers as with the other hand he tried to cover the injury. With only one hand it was impossible for him to fire his weapon. But he couldn't abandon his men.
It would have been easier to recover if he had all of his strength. But America's body had already been weakened by the war. Even as he tried to gather all of his strength and continue to fight, he felt it slip away.
America knew it was coming, no matter how much he fought against the approaching darkness. He was losing too much blood. He slipped in the mud, it was water, it hadn't rained in days, but the blood of his fallen companions. The last thing America saw before finally losing consciousness was the approaching British soldiers.
By the time that America came to, only two hours had gone back. He was shaken by the whole thing. He was even more shaken when he found out what could have been the cause, an air raid just off the border between Mexico and Southern Canada.
There weren't any of the nations around. Only a human Doctor who quickly had him back on the bed. They still needed to make sure that there wasn't any damage. Canada had been affected too.
America watched the man leave, probably to get one of the other countries and closed his eyes. He pondered for a moment about going back to sleep. But he wasn't really tired.
His body still ached a bit, but mostly it felt like an aftershock. It had been a while since he'd felt actual battles like this in his land. Even if this wasn't exactly his land nor was it his world.
He remembered that the Doctor had mentioned that Canada too had been affected. He hoped the other country was fine. He would have gone to see him, if he knew where he was. He would ask the Doctor when he returned.
After ten minutes America started to grow restless. He wanted to know what had happened. He wanted to talk to someone. Canada and England both had looked pretty upset before he had lost consciousness. He also wanted to talk to Prussia.
He wished Lithuania was around. During his stay he'd grown accustomed to the other's presence. It would have been nice to speak to him right now. But he had no idea if Lithuania was anywhere near them right now. He wasn't even exactly sure where they were.
Even if America was in what was meant to be his own country. He still felt disoriented, the land still felt unfamiliar to him. It wasn't his anymore.
He also wanted to talk to his friends and even Russia. The more time he spent in this unfamiliar place, that shouldn't be so, the more homesick he felt.
"You're awake." America looked up, moving into a sitting position. England had walked into the tent. He hadn't been able to take a good look of England before.
The British nation looked pretty much the same as England back home. His hair was maybe slightly shorter and he looked thinner. More worn and tired looking. It reminded America of England during the two World Wars. Of course, this was the World Wars for these nations.
America remembered England had been fighting against Cuba since the beginning, No wonder he looked so tired.
"Is Canada alright?" America quickly asked.
"Yes, he just came through and was talking to one of his Generals." Like with almost everyone in the world, America found himself in a situation he wasn't sure what to say.
"So… how is…"
"If you want to ask me about… the other you, you can." England had cut him midsentence, but what he'd said had taken America by surprise. True that he'd been tempted to ask about it for some time. But he wasn't sure how much they wanted to say or even how much it was safe to ask about.
He didn't want to come out as rude or to bring back painful memories.
"I knew America and if you are anything like him, I know you have questions." England smiled, sitting beside the American.
America blushed. He had more than a few questions. "I… well…sort of. I just want to know more about the other me, how it happened. But I don't want to bring those memories back for you guys."
"I won't lie to you, even if it has been centuries since, it still hurts to think about it. But talking about it, sort of eases that pain." England's expression was distant fir a moment, but America decided not to interrupt him.
"It wasn't really anyone's fault. He was affected by the war against France and then to go against…" The unsaid 'me' was not needed. "It was too much for such a young nation to take."
"I found America in the battlefield after the Colonial forces had surrendered, he'd been shot." America's eyes widened, he couldn't help but imagine the other him, lying somewhere in the battlefield. His body still as blood poured from his wound, surrounded by his men.
England's breath had caught, for a moment he was unable to move. He finally he forced his legs to walk forward, keeping down the urge to throw up.
America was lying across from him, unmoving, looking pale and sick. Then there was the blood, which by now had dried. The dirt and sweat didn't make it any better.
England called his charge, after hearing no response, he checked for a pulse. Thankfully America was still alive, but for how much longer. He called for some of his men; he needed to get his charge out of the fields. For him to receive the right attention for his wound.
"America, I'm sorry. God please don't take him." When his men finally arrived England stepped back to help them with the colony, he was almost afraid to touch the body. After America was taken to a near house, he wrote a letter to Canada.
America had traveled to the Southern colonies right away. When England first saw his colony, he looked almost as pale as the one lying on the bed.
England turned around, leaving the two colonies alone. He didn't want to think of the possibilities, America was so weak and it didn't look like he was recovering. It took a lot for a nation to die, but it wasn't impossible.
England shook his head. He didn't want to be thinking about. America was a strong boy. It would take more than this to take him down.
The Englishman stopped talking. His mind had drifted off again. America knew had said it was fine to ask, but looking at his expression made him feel guilty for asking anyway. "If it is too painful for you, you don't have to continue."
"I'm fine." America nodded, still unsure, but England continued anyway.
America had been holding on for a few months now. But he was hardly awake. Even when he was, he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings. He would moan in pain, his temperature rising, it was unusual for him not to be feverish.
Those were the easy days. Sometimes he wouldn't moan but scream in pain. The injury on his arm opening again, as fresh blood began to pour out again, turning the white sheets crimson. Seen America like that broke his heart.
At time England found himself wishing the colonist would have won. It would have meant that America wouldn't be in such a state at least.
England made sure that America was cared by the best Doctors the Empire could afford, was treated with the best medicine. Canada wouldn't leave his side, the boy probably by now knew more about medicine than any of the Doctors caring for the American. It was impossible to separate them now, not that England would ever do something like that.
His government called him back to Europe. England for the first time found himself declining a direct order from his government. He'd been telling himself America would live, but as he looked down at the man who had once been his little brother. He had finally started to accept that maybe, that wouldn't be the case.
What hurt him the most was knowing that America had probably accepted that too. It was almost as if the fight had gone out of him. He knew many of his men, his friends, had been hanged already. Some of his civilians were dying, others had left the country.
"England." America's hand had moved, almost of its own accord, to wipe a tear from the other nation's face. England hadn't even noticed when he had started crying.
"I'm sorry. It has been years since I've talked to someone else about this." He seemed to recover enough to complete his story.
France arrived on those final days. As much as England hated the frog, he was one of the few nations that knew America. That knew Canada and would be able to be there for the boy in case…it happened.
Canada was sitting beside America, his hand on top of the now bonier and paler one. He picked the hand up in both his own, kissing the fingers before placing it back down. America sighted, but said nothing or even moved.
France and England were sitting nearby. Since he'd known France, the British nation had never seen the Frenchman so quiet. The three of them stayed by America's side that night, all of the help had been given an early leave, even the Doctors were gone.
Before the sun had risen that morning, the nation that could have been the United States of America, England's own British America was gone; leaving behind a hole in the heart of those that had loved him. Canada had been hysterical during those first few years, it had been almost impossible for England and France to calm him down.
Two decades later Canada's own people began to rebel against the Empire. The inhuman treatment of their fellow colonist down South still fresh in many of their minds. They were better prepared and unlike the Americans managed to gain support from the other nations. After ten years of fighting, British Canada and what had been British America was free.
The room fell into an uneasy silence after England had finished talking. America was in a way glad that the other him had passed away surrounded by those who loved him and not in a battlefield alone.
"Thank you for telling me." America finally said after the long silence.
England smiled sadly, "It was nothing. I'm glad I did anyway, it felt good."
The silence returned once more. America wasn't sure what else to talk about all that. He was still taking it all in. He had a lot to think about.
"But you won…" It was England's turn to break the silence.
"Yeah… I never felt luckier." America had thought about what would have happened had he lost. But he'd never imagined it would go anything like that. "I had help, I don't think I would have been as successful without France."
Even Prussia had helped. One of his own men had turned his militia into a real Army, without the General and the other Founding fathers. He wondered what their lives were like in this Universe. America was afraid to ask. Afraid to find out they had been one of the unlucky ones, who had been hanged under the Crown's wishes.
"Ah~" England looked at him and nodded. "Did Canada join you?"
"No," America quickly said, "I tried to get him. But he was loyal to you, thought I was crazy. I sort of tried to invade him. He wasn't very happy with me." It didn't help that America had tried again a second time after he'd won his Independence.
"Do you guys have a good relationship?" England seemed truly interested on learning more about the other world. America remembered they hadn't talked much that first day. England had been forced to take an early leave.
"We are good allies. The best you can say. I'm also very good allies with...the other England." America frowned; both of them were probably worried about him right now. America wished he had a way to at least let them know the others and him were fine.
"Really, I'm glad." England looked happy to know that. "Very." England added as an afterthought.
"He is a bit of a bothersome sometimes," like when he gets drunk, America thought to himself, "but in the end is worth it." Even when England was a bit of a pain, America enjoyed every moment he spent with him. His cheeks turned pink. Maybe it was because he sometimes wished they were more than friends, the hope he still held unto their relationship morphing into something else.
With the other England in the room, America felt even more embarrassed to be thinking about something like. It wasn't like he could read his mind. Or that America was thinking about him. But it was still weird for him.
"You've faced conflicts similar to this one, right?" America was thankful that they were changing topics. He was flustered enough as it was.
"Yeah, not against Cuba though." England tilted his head slightly. "Germany and others, twice." England nodded in understanding. "I don't get well with Cuba, we have our problems. But it is nothing like this." Cuba wasn't even half as powerful as he was here. "Mostly, we just yell at each other. Sometimes he yells at Canada too, thinking he is me."
England smiled at the last part. "I had trouble telling you two apart as children."
"Canada hates it." Probably because he always got in trouble when people thought he was America. America felt guilty about it, but couldn't help but also be amused. It could be hilarious, especially when Canada's face blushed scarlet in anger. Yet he was still unable to talk back to them, he was far too nice.
The two countries began to talk more. America told stories of his own Universe, his people, technology, friends and all the things they did together. He felt at ease around England, able to tell him about everything. He hadn't talked like this with his own England in a long time.
England also had his own stories to tell, ones less depressing that the previous one. He told America about the war against Cuba. About his Empire and how things were going. Neither Canada nor Prussia had explained that much about the war.
Before they knew more than two hours had passed. They probably would have kept at it. But a caught from the doorway finally interrupted them. Both countries turned around to see Canada and Prussia standing there.
"You missed the meeting." Prussia was the first to walk in, motioning towards England. He turned to look at America. "You gave us a bit of a scare there."
"Sorry, I'm not sure what happened neither." Canada had finally walked in. He looked a bit pale, but other than that he looked fine. "I heard you were affected too." Seen Canada after England's story brought new emotions for America.
"Canada nodded. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. They kept me busy." Canada continued to watch him. But he still kept a distance. America felt another sting of guilt. Canada had probably noticed America had been avoiding him. He was probably still upset that America had sneaked here too.
"Sorry for missing the meeting,"
"I kept him busy," America finished, "blame me for that."
"Well, we should be getting something to eat." Prussia looked at the two North American countries. "You guys look like you need it. We don't want you getting sick in case another attack happens."
"We should get it." England stood up, grabbed the Prussia and pushed him out of the tent.
Once outside he turned towards the albino nation. "What's wrong with those two?"
"You noticed too?" Prussia smiled. "There was enough tension there to cut throw. I think it may be related to America finding out, his counterpart was extremely close to Canada."
England started in confusion at the Prussia, before it finally hit him. "Ah. Oh my." England blushed as he turned away.
"Yeah. It is totally un-awesome, hopefully they'll get over it soon." If they didn't, then it was going to be awkward for not only them, but for everyone around them too.
"So, America and Canada are not together in his own world." England's interest was evident.
"Guess not." The two countries continued to walk, now in silence.