Never Again [America/Canada War of 1812]
Title: Never Again
Author: rissa_ichigo
Recipient: amoyr
Pairing/Characters: America/Canada with appearances by President Madison, Dolly Madison, and England.
Rating: PG-13 for death.
Summary: Going through the years of 1812, 1813, and 1814 for three different events. Last one, of course, being the burning of Washington DC.
Warnings: Umm, other than it being really long, not much. Fail characterization of the President and his wife?
Notes: Important note at the end! If you want info on anything else, please let me know and I can provide!
1812
America paced back and forth across the plush-red carpet in tense silence. He repeated the process of clenching and then relaxing his hands. General William Hull got the brilliant idea of marching up to Canada and engaged in the battle of Detroit. It was too close to the United States for America’s comfort. Things have been very tense for the last few years when England started to capture American ships and forcefully shoved them into their wars.
“Alfred, calm down .” A voice quietly spoke from a corner of the room.
America froze, body becoming tense and ridged. He stared at his current boss, President James Madison, with agonized eyes. His previous poker face he held strongly minutes ago crumbled as his bottom lip started to tremble.
“But…..what if….do you think?” America whispered out, his gaze shooting to the floor.
What if he’s hurt?
Do you think he’s for this war?
Does he hate me?
“I think it was a foolish move for General Hull to invade Canada right now. I’m sure Matthew is fine, Alfred.”
America bit his lip and looked back up at Madison.
“I….I heard his people think we are blaming the Native American attacks on our towns on them. They say we are using that to justify our expansion into Canada.”
Madison sighed and sat up straight. “It’s war, Alfred. People are angry, including our own citizens.”
A polite knock interrupts their discussion, and causes both Madison and America to scrunch up their eyebrows in confusion.
“Come in.”
The door clicks open and a post-man walks quickly over to the puzzled President. Madison takes the letter and watches the man give a bow before exiting the room. America walks over and stands behind his boss. They see that the letter is an express from the front lines.
Madison glances up at America in worry, a question in his eyes.
“Go on! Maybe….perhaps it’s good news?”
Madison carefully tears open the envelope and pulls out the letter. America leans over and starts to read.
“Oh dear.”
‘Oh dear’ was not the words America would have used. He let out an unknown held breath, and raises a hand over his heart. He feels like his heart would shatter at any given moment.
“It seems as if your brother is going to be difficult.” Madison stood up, handing the letter to America and walked over to the window.
America glanced down at the letter again, heart in his stomach. William Hull had tried launching an attack against the British by trying to cross the Detroit River. It failed and only a few days later the British launched a counter-attack. It forced Hull to surrender and gave the British a large number of supplies as well as capturing about 2,000 of America’s men.
Matthew….why?
~*~*~*~*~
1813
America crept forward, gun tight in hand. He looked on either side of him to see his children with varied looks of fear, determination, worry, confidence, and anger. They had just landed at York, about a few miles down from where they were originally supposed to land, and were stealthily creeping through the woods. A twig snapped from ahead and America froze, holding up a hand. Everyone halted.
“Everyone ready?” America whispered to the men around him. They all gave a nod.
America motioned for them to squat down and wait. They didn’t have to wait long, however, for a few seconds in, a young militia man squatted down next to him tugged on America’s sleeve. America glanced over at him and watched as he mouthed ‘Indian’ and pointed over to a huge big tree.
A flurry of movement and America could make out the man behind the tree who was watching them intently. America gave a grim nod then brought his musket up. He carefully took aim and fired. A pained cry left the Indians lips and he fell down clutching his leg.
America knows how to kill. And he can do it very well. But it tore at him to do so, especially to one of his brother’s people.
Now that both America’s and Canada’s positions had been given away, America’s men charged forward with hopeful hearts. They did not want to fail at this mission. Another loss would not bode well.
After an hour of running into the Native Americans, America halted his people after the attacks stopped. He knew it was far from over and signaled to move forward with care. It would now most surely be the regular troops.
America had just peeked around one tree when a crack was sounded. America was slow to pull back around, and a bullet grazed his cheek. He fell down on to the cold spring ground.
“Shit!”
“Jones sir!”
Another militia boy started to race across from his hiding spot. Before America could even cry out, a bullet struck the boy in the shoulder.
“Go! Go! Go!” America cried out as he dashed over to the boy. He quickly pulled him back up and dragged him over behind his tree. Cries of anger rose as the rest of the militia and regular troops rushed forward, openly firing weapons.
“What’s your name, boy?” America asked, shaking the young man lightly. The shock was slowly going away.
The boy looked up at America in a daze. “Al-Alfred Gable, Jones sir.”
America’s eyes widened in brief surprise before he gave a warm smile. “Okay Alfred. I want you to stay here until the second wave comes in. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” The boy nodded eagerly, and America couldn’t blame him. Things would only get worse from here on out as they get closer to the fort.
America quickly dashed ahead and behind another tree. He carefully peered around to get a look on what was going down. His children were rushing forward and taking the British Canadians quickly. America winced as one of his militia men gave a clean shot through the head of an British Canadian that was hidden up in a tree. A close shout of pain drew America’s eyes down from the dead soldier and over just a few feet ahead of him. His breathing stopped.
That…why would he be here!?
His brother stood over a regular soldier of America’s, feet planted on either side of the trembling man. He looked only to be 18 and his bright green eyes were round as saucers. His gun had been kicked aside, likely by Matthew, and he was now facing the deadly end of an infantry musket.
“Mattie! Don’t!” America cried out. He shut his mouth quickly, realizing his mistake.
After all, this was war, was it not?
Canada whipped his head around and that’s when the young militia boy seized his chance. He scrambled over and grabbed his musket, swinging it to point at Canada.
In a blink of an eye, Canada swung back around and kicked the boy in the stomach, causing the gun to fall from his hands. When Canada turned back around, America had stepped out from behind the tree.
Canada stared back at America with a unreadable face. He was very good at that. Always has been. America remembered the time when Mattie had been the one to steal a piece of cake from England’s plate when they were having tea inside the house one rainy day. England, of course, immediately blamed America. He had gotten so angry and he remembered shaking Canada hard, telling him to confess. But Canada just stared blankly back at him, not a crack of emotion showing.
“Mattie! Why are you fighting for him? Why can’t you come back with me? We can sort this out!” America cried out, taking a step forward. “Here! Take my hand, it’s not too late!” America held out a shaky hand. Take it. Just take it, god please Mattie!
Canada’s deep violet eyes flickered with something, and America could see his face crack, could see his lips start to tremble.
“JONES! JONES SIR!”
America’s attention was snapped instantly. He turned his head around to look behind him in alarm, only to see the second wave come in. America rushed forward to meet the lead general, but not before looking back behind him in a panic.
His brother was gone.
~*~*~*~*~
1814
“Miss Madison!” America hurried into the room and up to the first lady who was sitting down at her desk, writing a letter.
“What is it, Al? Are they here?” Dolly Madison looked up at America, her eyes betraying panic though her face was calm.
“Not yet. You need to go miss. You are tempting fate!” America held out his hand.
“Hold on. I’m almost done with my letter to Anna.” Dolly turned back and quickly finished her last sentence before tucking the letter into the envelope. She then took America’s hand and stood up.
“You’re coming as well, right Al?”
America tightened his hand for a split second. He stopped walking and looked behind him, out the window.
“Alfred?” Dolly clasped her other hand over Americas, causing America to tear his gaze from outside and look straight into Dolly’s.
“I-I’m afraid not. I will be staying here.” America firmly said. He gave a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Why on earth are you, Alfred? There are no longer soldiers stationed here! Everyone has left the city!”
“Because….maybe…” America shut his eyes and took a ragged breath.
“I’m positive he will not listen to reason, Alfred.” Dolly softly spoke, “This isn’t the first time you tried to change his mind.”
America’s head snapped up and he looked at the first lady in shock.
“Do not presume I know nothing of you and Arthur’s relationship, Al.” Dolly smiled sadly. “But this is England we are talking about, and you know better than I do that once he sets his mind to something, he does not back down.” Dolly fixed America’s collar and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “No wonder where you got it from.”
America laughed lightly and tears slid from his eyes. He brushed a hand over his cheek in surprise.
“Dear, please stay safe. Don’t push him. I know you want to, but you must not. It will only cause further heartbreak.”
America pulled Dolly into a warm hug and then gave a bow. Dolly Madison patted him on the hand once more before she left the White House for good.
~*~*~*~*~
Several hours later found America hidden a few feet away from the house. Night had fallen on Washington, slightly lowering the temperatures from the heat it was earlier. Cannon fire could be heard and every second it got closer. America’s gaze locked on the dirt road leading up to the White house as he waited patiently for the British to come.
Loud clopping of the horses was what America registered first before they came into view. Two horses were pulling a large wagon behind, full of British soldiers. America gritted his teeth and moved a few inches further away from his safe position behind the out building. The men in the wagon and walking alongside were talking and laughing to each other. As the White House came closer, the men grew quiet and America noticed some men’s eyes hardened in anger. His own did the same as his eyes narrowed.
Orders were given out as a British General strode forward to the front of the lines. The British began pulling out torches. A carriage drove up to the front and America stepped back. The carriage door opened and out stepped England. America felt himself shrink and he felt nauseous all of the sudden. He felt like he was ten again, living by Arthur’s rules. Without knowing it, America had walked away from the out building and found himself clinging to the corner of the White House, peering around like a child in a game of hide and seek, watching Arthur walk around inspecting his children.
“Once we get this bloody thing started, I want you men to keep it burning until tomorrow, is that clear?” England spoke in his clipped tone. He gazed up at the White House in disgust and America felt something in him snap. He brought his musket around and aimed at Arthur’s head.
How dare he invade his land again. What was his problem? If he just stopped with pulling America’s people into his wars and all the other stupid shit, they would maybe form that bond again. America still remembers the good early days where England would greet him like he was actually happy to see him. Didn’t England remember?
America’s hands began to tremble. The torches had been lit and the British charged into the White House. America watched England stand there and watch, just watch. He lowered his musket to the ground. He couldn’t do it.
“Alfred the brave is really a coward, hmm?”
America froze up instantly. He felt the blunt end of another musket against his neck.
“Throw the gun off to the side, Alfred.”
America did as he was ordered.
“Kneel down.”
America took a shaky breath and slowly knelt on the ground, hands stiffly at his sides.
“I never thought I would see the day when my dear brother would do as he’s told.” Canada mused, walking around America to stand in front of him. His violet eyes were filled with nothing but anger at the moment. A cruel smile held his lips. He looked behind him and then back to America.
“I see you have spotted Arthur.” Canada said. America watched the familiar look of sadness flood his brother’s eyes before it disappeared. Canada believed that England only cared about America. But that was not true and more proof to that right now.
“Why are you here, Mattie? You’re supposed to be up north.”
Canada turned back around to look at America, but like the coward he was, he looked down at the dark earth, too much afraid to see what expression Canada wore on his face.
Anger?
Glee?
Disgust like England?
“I wanted to see.” Canada stated flatly, “After all, I requested England to do so.”
America gasped and flinched like he had been slapped. His eyes turned wide as saucers and he finally dragged his eyes up to Canada’s face. America was confused to see that Canada held no anger or disgust in his eyes, not even glee. Just…blank. Like a doll.
“You asked England to burn my White House?” America whispered out.
“No. To burn your capitol.” Canada’s eyes then flashed for a second in anger.
“But….why Mattie?”
Canada’s eyes narrowed and one hand formed a fist, nails digging into his palm.
“Why do you think, Alfred? Think real hard on this one.”
America bit his lip and looked down briefly, before meeting Canada’s gaze once again.
“York.” He trembled out.
“Correct.”
America grabbed Canada’s un-clenched hand and held it tightly. “I didn’t mean to Mattie! I swear! It was just General-“
Canada wrenched America’s hand away and kicked him hard in the stomach. America collapsed on the ground but did not curl into a ball. He was used to such pain, and not much was felt by nations.
“Bullshit Al! You didn’t mean to as much as I didn’t mean to set fire to your capitol. This is war and you are my enemy.” Canada hissed out.
America slowly sat up on his knees and glared up at Canada for the first time.
“It wasn’t your war to start with. Then you had to go and choose Arthur’s side! Always wanting to butter him up Mattie. So alone up there.” America countered back sharply. “He doesn’t give to shits about you. How often does he visit you Mattie? About as much as he did me all those years ago before my Independence.”
Canada growled and lunged forward, gripping America by his neck. The two were locked in a tumble of limbs as they threw punches and rolled around in the dark. Canada quickly got the upper hand and sat on top of America, hands pinning the younger nations wrists above his head. He looked down to see and angry face with wet streaks running down America’s face.
“If you hadn’t invaded me, Al, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
America broke free and rolled them over. Now he was sitting on Canada.
“And if you-you hadn’t picked Arty, I wouldn’t have had to invade you to get you to change your mind! Why him!? Why!” America choked out, tears falling hard now, landing on Canada’s face and neck.
A loud moan filled the air and a crash followed as the timber crackled and burned behind them both. The night sky was illuminated a bright orange, the stars becoming dim up above.
“I’m not like you Al.” Canada softly said as his shoulders slumped. “I-I can’t, no…I don’t want to give up that bond. I don’t want to leave Arthur.”
America’s eyes squeezed tight in denial. “You could! I can help you!” America whimpered out.
Canada shook his head side to side. America’s heart pulsed with a sharp pain and he suddenly felt half-complete….no, empty. He swung himself up, causing Canada to fall back on his rear, and surged forward. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso and buried his head against Canada’s chest.
“But….I love you, Mattie. Don’t you love me?” America cried out, his question muffled by Canada’s coat.
Silence stretched between them. The fire burned brightly than ever before behind them, mocking America. They both listened to the few British soldiers that stayed piling more timber on. One broke out into laughter at some joke one must have told.
Americas grip on Canada was slowly coming undone, slumping against his brother. He heard Canada take a shuddering breath and his grip tensed.
“You know I will always love you Al. I love you very much.” Canada spoke out firmly, his fingers combing through America’s golden hair.
America sniffled and hugged his brother tighter, never wanting to let him go.
They sat there in the glow of the fire in silence for a few calming minutes. Canada continued to pet America before starting to rock him gently. America felt all at once the exhaustion hit him, and he felt his eyelids start to droop.
“God Al, why do you always start fights with him?” Canada whispered into his head.
“He’s the one that is difficult.” America slurred out tiredly.
Canada chuckled and brought him in closer. “You think so.”
“I know so.” America whispered, his eyed finally giving in to sleep and shutting.
Canada lay his sleeping brother softly on the ground. He blinked as he realized the sky was no longer bright from just the fire, but from the sun rising as well. He leaned over America and brushed his lips against his brothers.
“Je vais toujours vous aimez le plus”
Canada stayed by America’s side until the British left their posts and the rain began to fall, startling America awake. He was greeted by no one, and Canada watched from behind a tree as his brother walked up to what once was the front door of his majestic house.
He hoped and knew in his heart that America hoped for the same thing.
They were never supposed to be split. Canada vowed that they never will be again. No more war with his brother. Not ever.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N- Finished! I hope you enjoyed this one-shot! This so far to date has been the longest fanfic I have written. o_o Thank you very much for the request! I’m sorry if you spot any mistakes. I’m not the best with grammar. >_<
There was a lot of research put into this and use of my own brain (History major X3) but I will only point out one thing.
· It is a fact that British Canadians DID NOT take part in the burning of Washington DC. This is truth. It was actually purely British soldiers that came over on a ship from England and landed at Benedict, Maryland. The British Canadians DID however ask England to burn America’s capitol in revenge for America burning York, which back then was Canada’s capitol (Current day Toronto). Canada’s men were solely fighting only up north, on the US-Canada border.