man, how long has it been since i've finished one of these, seriously
Elections were never easy. The process of transferring his allegiance-obedience-from one person to another had always felt a little strange, a little like something was being taken out of him and replaced with something new. Which, well, it was, when you thought about it. England had liked Harriet Jones. She was a little odd, and not terribly popular towards the end, but he’d liked her. He never believed the rumours that her mind was fading. So to see her go, and this, this upstart take her place-well, it wasn’t easy. But then again, it was hardly the worst transfer of power he’d witnessed. At least this one didn’t appear to have any plans to go around killing all the Catholics.
Still. England was allowed to be apprehensive. There was something-off about the man. Oh yes, he was charming, there was no doubt about that, but of course England had seen plenty of charmers in his day, too, and he was far from the only nation who’d grown wary of them. This first official meeting, then, made him feel nervous, uncomfortable. America had called to congratulate him on the election. That alone was cause for worry.
So it was with no small share of unease that England reached out and shook the hand of Harold Saxon, the new Prime Minister. His new boss.
“I’m sorry, you’re the what now?” Saxon asked, looking at him askance. It wasn’t an unusual reaction. In the old days, the royals had grown up with him around; they’d never thought much of it. But of course, in these days of any random person rising to power, there had to be…explanations.
England sighed. “I am your country, Prime Minister. I am the living embodiment of the land and people of which you are now in charge. Do try to get used to it.”
“I swear, every moment of this job is a revelation. Did you know one of the dining rooms is two storeys high? -well, no, you probably did,” Saxon said. “This is fascinating. I am fascinated. How long have you been here? And have you always looked like that?”
“I’ll choose to ignore your last question, if I may,” England said, “and instead say that I have been here for a very, very long time. I was here before we had kings. I was here before any of the people on this land could conceive of empire. I was here before ‘English’ was even an idea in anyone’s head. I have been here much, much longer than you, Prime Minister, and I should rather hope I’ll be here long after you are gone. And yes, I did know the State Dining Room is two storeys high. So is the kitchen. Not that you’ll be going there very often.”
Saxon let out a whistle. “Well, stone the crows. Can you do anything special? Teleport, summon King Arthur from his grave?”
“I can advise you on almost every possible matter concerning this country,” England said. “In the event of a war, I can aid the men and women on the field. I don’t think King Arthur would like being summoned. He always did complain about everyone wanting his attention, and he deserves his rest.”
“You know what, I think I like you, embodiment of my lands and people,” Saxon said, throwing an arm around England’s shoulder. England tensed. “I think you’re going to be very useful indeed. So what do I call you? You’ve got to have a name of some kind.”
“Arthur Kirkland, when it’s necessary,” England said. “And we call ourselves nations. But my real name is England. Because I am England.” Sometimes the point had to be hammered in a little.
“What, just England? Not the rest of it? No bonny Irish in you or anything?” Saxon asked. He looked disappointed.
“Just England,” England said. “You’ll meet the rest of the Kingdom later; things are a bit hectic right now.” He wasn’t looking forward to having to hear what his siblings thought of their new leader-either they’d think Saxon was just wonderful, which would be disconcerting, or they’d agree that he was a bit strange, which would possibly be worse.
“I suppose I can deal with that,” Saxon said. “More millennia-old beings, eh? It’s positively mindboggling. My mind, it is boggled.”
“Many, many more,” England said. “One for every country. Or two. But mostly one. Really there are only a couple of cases where there are two, and in one of them the extra is just being stubborn about it-but I digress. Welcome to the grand stage of world politics, Prime Minister. It’s a bit more complicated than most people let on.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Saxon said, and that grin couldn’t possibly be the product of a reasonable mind. “Say, do you show up in the Cabinet often? Only I’m going to be having my first meeting there soon, you see, and it might be a bit much for me to handle if I had to deal with so many new things all at once…”
“As a matter of fact, I have some other business to attend to,” England said. He didn’t, not really. But by God did he want to get away from this man. “I do appear at most Cabinet meetings when possible, though. But generally not Parliament. And I am always available for consultation, if you require it.” Or if I think you do, he didn’t add.
“Splendid, splendid,” Saxon said, still beaming. He (finally) released his arm from England’s shoulders. “I’ll be off, then-I look forward very much to working with you, Mr. Kirkland. England. Whatever. You know, that’s probably going to get confusing.”
“Indeed,” England said. Well, it did. But only for humans. The other nations tended not to have any problems with it, although they were admittedly used to it.
When the Prime Minister was finally gone, England let out a deep breath. Oh, this new boss’ reign was going to be a long one.
---
“Aliens,” England said flatly. “He said he’s come into contact with aliens. I don’t suppose you’ve been letting Tony roam free again, have you?”
It was difficult to tell over the phone, but England could feel America shrugging. “Hey, the guy mostly stays in the basement, I haven’t heard of him going anywhere. And haven’t you had your fair share of stuff like this lately? There was that thing on Christmas, and-the other thing on the other Christmas, actually-”
England had resisted telling America about UNIT since its inception, and he wasn’t about to start now. Frankly, it was embarrassing. Bad enough that nobody believed him about ghosts and fairies; it would be even worse if he went about declaring that his people had an entire government-funded organization dedicated to studying and combating things from other worlds-well, actually, Japan might listen. England sometimes thought that Japan had more experience in such matters than he was letting on. But the point was, England didn’t make it a habit of talking about that sort of thing. The official responses were so much easier.
“Nothing’s been proven about either of those cases,” England said. “Or the instance with the supposed killer robots, since I know you’re going to mention that one if I don’t. But now I have a Prime Minister who not only believes in those events, but appears determined to instigate more of them. And you think this is a good thing.”
“Man, you just don’t get it, do you,” America said. “Aliens are cool. Tony’s kinda boring, he doesn’t really do anything, but other aliens? I wonder if they’ve got people like us, too. Alien nations. Hah, like that TV show, did you ever watch-”
“I watched The Twilight Zone once,” England said. Well, more than once, but damned if he was going to let America know he occasionally enjoyed aspects of the other country’s culture. “The Earth was visited by an alien race who claimed to bring only peace and servitude. Then it turned out they wanted to eat us. If aliens did exist, it would not necessarily be a good thing, America.”
“Guess we’re gonna have to wait and see, then,” America said. “I mean, this Saxon guy’s gotta be pretty special if he can just snap his fingers and make first contact, right?”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” England said, and hung up.
---
America wasn’t there when his president died.
Odd, how that was the one thing England’s mind could keep a hold of in all the chaos. He was on board the Valiant, yes, but America for some reason or another couldn’t make it, and-and England knew what it was like when your boss died, and it didn’t matter where you were, it was like the world dropped out from under your feet. Small wonder Russia had started behaving the way he did after the slaughter of the Romanovs; no surprise Italy withdrew into himself after his people dealt with Mussolini. Of course, America had felt it several times before, whether through madmen or opponents of alleged tyranny or the disgruntled unemployed, but something about this was-and then the charming, persuasive, magnetic voice commanded, “Reduce by one-tenth,” and England fell to the ground, every inch of his body screaming.
Dimly, he wondered if the rest of his kind were feeling it too.
---
England had grown accustomed to saying that events weren’t the worst he had ever seen in his long life. Centuries of war and royal stupidity and atrocity simply made most things seem small. He wasn’t saying that much these days. There wasn’t much he could say at all.
Saxon-no, the Master, what a ridiculous name, his parents must have been out of their minds, which would actually make sense, given their offspring-kept England onboard the Valiant whenever possible, only occasionally letting him out to see if anything ‘interesting’ would happen. The physical experiments had mostly gone away, but there was still so much the Master seemed determined to find out about nations. England hadn’t thought himself a terribly religious man, not after all the twists and turns and convolutions his country had tried with such things over the years, but he found himself praying, these days, that no one new would be captured, no more of them would be separated from their people. Being trapped and unable to help his people was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t stand the idea of that being the case for the others, too.
Conversations with the Master, then, were always mixed with both dread and hope. He was England’s only source of news, after all; what he said could bring either.
“I do wish I could bring you a friend to play with,” the Master said one day, tapping his fingers against the wall of England’s cell. “But then you’d probably find some heroic way to escape and thwart all my insidious plans. That almost happened a couple of times, actually. I think I’d be quite fond of that Prussia fellow if he wasn’t so persistent. And I’ll never cease to be surprised how hard it is to dampen Poland’s spirits.”
“He’s gone through worse,” England said. “I don’t think even you can compare to what he and his people survived. How’s your search for Russia going, again? How many of your little friends have you lost in the snow?”
The Master glowered. “He’ll show up once the word gets out that I’ll be executing his people indiscriminately until he does.”
“Will he,” England said. “I wonder.”
“Oh, but I just know you’ll be delighted to hear about what’s been going on with America,” the Master said. His voice grew menacing. “We finally have a lead, did I tell you? Apparently he’s become quite the folk hero. Traveling around his country, bringing aid and hope to all who see him. It’s downright inspiring. Of course, once we find him we’ll show his people what being inspirational gets you…”
England stayed silent. Saying anything would only give the Master a reason to provoke him, and he wasn’t about to be so amenable. Still, he felt sick, helpless, frustrated. If only there was something he could do-
“I think I’ll get a video feed,” the Master said. “So you can see it too. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the fun, would we? I know I haven’t been able to actually kill any of you yet, but, really, that just means I don’t have to worry about overdoing things.”
England still said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
The Master sighed. “You’re no fun when you’re like this,” he said. “I suppose I’ll go find someone else to talk to, then. I think one of the maids is free-”
“What do you want me to say?” England asked. “Do you want me to rage at you not to harm him? Or any of them? Do you want me to beg? I’ve never done the latter, and I don’t plan to now. If you think there is anything you can do to him that will break him, I invite you to try. He’s too much of a fool to consider defeat.”
When the Master grinned, it was nothing but teeth. “Oh, I know what it’s like to deal with arrogant fools. I know it very, very well.
“And believe me-that just makes it all the more enjoyable to make them realize they’ve failed.”
---
Sometimes, England met the other people on the ship. The maids were always swift, careful, never staying anywhere they thought they might be seen for long; the guards might as well have been walls for all they spoke; Mrs. Saxon always left him more unnerved than usual. But there was the old man, too, and for all that England felt eternally trapped, eternally and frustratingly powerless-seeing him made it go away, just for a little bit.
After all, it wasn’t as if they were strangers to each other.
“I think it’s high time you started wearing something a little more respectable,” England said. “Though the sneakers could use a bit of work. Still, in comparison to those opera capes you were so fond of-”
“Those opera capes were very respectable,” the Doctor insisted. “They possessed far more class than the military uniforms I was surrounded by. Just because I’ve chosen to wear a suit now doesn’t mean I’ll disrespect anything I wore previously.”
“Those opera capes made you look a dandy and you know it,” England said, shaking his head. “Of course, even they were better than that scarf. I can’t imagine how you could have worn it without getting it caught on everything.”
“Sheer skill, I assure you. And the balance of a champion.”
England had been informed of the creation of UNIT only a few minutes after the Prime Minister of the time. And, well, yes, he’d been more than a bit unconvinced, but he wouldn’t dismiss evidence put right in front of his eyes, and however ridiculous that thing with the metal men had been, it was the kind of ridiculous that left bodies behind. And then the thing with the walking plastic, and the thing with the lizard people, and the other thing with the walking plastic-well. A man who has on occasion spoken to unicorns cannot afford to be a skeptic. So it only made sense that he’d known of the organization’s scientific adviser. And once he’d known of him, it only made sense to meet the man.
True, England hadn’t met him a great many times; the lives of nations are busy ones. But the Doctor was not exactly the sort of person who didn’t leave an impression. And when one only has a single sane person to talk to, the lack of an in-depth prior relationship becomes less important.
“He still hasn’t told me anything about Hungary, you know,” England said. “Or Belarus. I think he doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of knowing his failures.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “Belarus is the one with the knife, right?”
“And Hungary the one with the skillet and the centuries of vicious nomadic strength,” England said with a nod. “Personally, I think the two of them are enough to make anyone hesitant of attack. I know he’s taken Austria captive-oh, but I wonder if he realizes what a foolish move that was…”
“There’s just something about the human spirit, isn’t there,” the Doctor said. A creaky smile is a smile nonetheless. “No one’s people will ever stop resisting, and because of that, none of you will either. You just have to hold out. I promise, it won’t be for nothing.”
“You keep saying that,” England said. “And you also keep saying you can’t say any more than that. It gets a bit frustrating, you know.”
The Doctor looked at him sadly. “I know,” he said. “But it’s the truth. You just have to stay strong, and this won’t last forever, I promise.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” England said. “Not even my kind. I only know of a few who vanished, myself, but there were people thousands of years before I came into being, and they must have had us too, or something like us. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to know you don’t have much time left.”
“Don’t,” the Doctor said. His voice was oddly blank. “Think about the time you have now, not the time you might not have later. Otherwise you’ll reach that point sooner than you think.”
England snorted. “You know, sometimes you remind me of America. He never worries about the future either. Sometimes I think that’s going to be what-” He stopped. There was a moment where neither of them said anything.
“I met him once,” the Doctor said finally. “A while ago. I had a thing for Victorian wear back then. He was very…enthusiastic. Does he always have food on him?”
“God, you’ve no idea,” England said, shuddering. “I’ve tried to convince him he doesn’t need to eat that much, but he must have the metabolism of a hummingbird-even when he was little, I’d catch him raiding the cupboards at night…”
“I did the same thing when I was his age,” the Doctor said. “Well-no, actually, probably I was a bit younger than that. Or maybe I was older than that. When we were the same equivalent age. You know, I’ve been all over the universe, seen so many things, but I hardly ever find anyone with quite a varied growth rate as you lot. And he’s one of the younger ones.”
“China claims to have been around for over four millennia,” England said. “Certainly no one can disprove it.” His jaw tightened. “Of course, he’s a rare case. And even he is wary of the passage of time. None of us knows how long we have, not really. The world changes so fast.”
“And sometimes the changes aren’t as permanent as they look,” the Doctor said, and there was that damned smile again. “You and your people will be around for a very, very long time, England. I should know. Personal experience, and all that.”
“I can only take your word for it,” England said. Something occurred to him. “…I don’t suppose you’ve met any of us later? After all of this?”
“I couldn’t tell you if I had,” the Doctor said. “Messes up the timeline. But-yes, actually. A few of you.”
“Then I won’t ask which ones,” England said, sighing. “Probably it’s going to be Sealand who outlives us all. I shudder to think of it.”
“Sealand, that’s the little fellow with the-”
“The sailor uniform, yes, and I’ve no idea why he even exists, that island of his isn’t a country, even if it does have a flag.” England smiled. “The Master hasn’t told me about him, either. I suppose that country or not, the boy does have a certain perseverance.”
“You all do,” the Doctor said.
“Yes, yes, you keep on saying that, I get your point,” England said. “What about your compatriots? I’d like to hear more about this Martha, she sounds like a wonderful young woman.”
“She rather is, yes,” the Doctor said, smiling. “Deft hand with a bow and arrow, too, though you’d never think it…”
They continued talking for some time. And amidst the horrors of the world below, at least for a while, England could feel that glimmer of hope-that if anyone could know anything about all of this, it would be the man in front of him, and the man in front of him was saying this was not the end. Hope, then. A perilous emotion, to be sure, but not one to be tossed aside lightly.
So England hoped. What else could he do?
---
Japan burned for days, the Master said.
England didn’t talk much to the Doctor after that.
He hadn’t seen Japan in months, of course; even before this, it had been some time since the last great meeting, and casual visits were usually rare. But England had respected him, enjoyed his company, and even with some years of strained relations there had always been their former alliance to remember fondly-and now, there would be no more of any of that. England couldn’t tell for sure, of course. But it felt like there was an empty space in the world. Add one more to the list, then, with Roma and the grandfather of Germany. But those two had died knowing their lands had new stewards. The sun no longer rose on Japan’s isles. There would be no new nation rising from the ashes.
“You’d think they would have learned by now what good rebelling does them,” the Master said. Once more, his fingers beat out a staccato rhythm on the walls of England’s cell. “It would all be so much easier if they’d stop. Why can’t they see that? All they have to do is listen, and things wouldn’t be so bad. But no, listening is beyond them. So I have to make gestures. They understand those, at least.”
“At the end,” England said. “At the end, did you have him? Had you captured him?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? He’s been kept for a few weeks now. A real tough nut, that one. We could hardly get him to say anything at all-frankly, half of this is his fault. And then he had to go and escape. Well, we can’t have that, can we? And it’s getting so boring with you lot. None of you do anything interesting. Proof that you can exit this mortal coil is the most fascinating thing any of you have given me in months,” the Master said.
“He died defending his people, then,” England said. “There are worse ways for us to go.” Better to die in a flash than watch your culture disintegrate.
The Master waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, death with honor and all that. He’s still dead. I wonder, does that mean all his people died with him? Would a few stragglers be enough to keep the identity of a country alive?”
“Apparently not,” England said. “I highly doubt all of his countrymen and women perished-perhaps one day, if the group grows and does not absorb itself into another…” It made him a little sick to think about. Could there be a new Japan, some day? Would they be the same? Nothing like this had happened before; likely not even China would know for sure.
“One day. Mm, no, I don’t think so. It’s getting closer and closer, you know. The day everything will be ready. Aren’t you looking forward to it? The whole universe will be open. You pride yourself on your command of the seas, if I recall correctly. And soon, you will have everything beyond the sky,” the Master said.
“I once heard of someone who wanted to rule everything he could get his hands on,” England said. “I believe his orphaned grandsons would have something to say on his success.”
“You’re awfully snippy today,” the Master said. “Whatever could be the matter?”
“One of my dearest acquaintances and the millions of people he represented are dead,” England said.
“Oh, that. You’re still fixated on that? You’ll never get anywhere in life if you dwell on the past,” the Master said. “Take it from me-although admittedly most of my past was destroyed in an unimaginably epic battle, so perhaps I’m not the best example.”
“Perhaps you’re not,” England said. He’d always had quite a lot of past to deal with. Lately, he’d been rather more concerned with the present.
“Anyway,” the Master said, getting up from his seat on the bed, “it’s been fun, but I’ve got countless unspeakable things to do. Ta!” And he left before England didn’t say goodbye.
England stared at the floor. One down, he thought. Ashes, ashes. He could feel the echoes of his people’s suffering under his skin, the edges of madness creeping up in the dark corners of his mind, and he wondered what Japan had felt in those final minutes, when everything he was made of burned to emptiness. He wondered if someday he would get to find out.
A perilous emotion, indeed.
---
It was some months later, in the evening, when a dressing gown-bedecked Master burst into the room with the most frightening grin England had seen yet and said, “We’ve got him.”
There was no need to ask who he was.
“Someone gave a tip from Colorado, of all places. Who’d bother trying to save Colorado? Well, I honestly couldn’t say, I don’t know a damn thing about the place. It could be a tropical rainforest for all I care. But whatever sort of place it is, some wonderful person in it did their civilian duty and called in to report the location of your colonial upstart. The Toclafane had him cornered within the hour. I do love a responsible citizenry, don’t you?”
England’s blood was starting to ice, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t going to give the Master the satisfaction of-oh, to hell with it, there was only so much stoicism anyone could have, and this. This was. The Master had shown him the pictures of what was happening to China, to Prussia, to Wales; he’d tried hope and he’d tried stubbornness and he could feel his people ebbing away day after day after day and his land was covered with factories that spat poison and the world was dying, every Englishman or woman outside the country gave him the tiniest connection to wherever they were and he could feel the corrosion everywhere. And now there wasn’t even this.
“I have to say, I’m feeling so good about this I might just visit him myself,” the Master said, still grinning like a wild beast. “And what do you know, the video feed’s ready to be set up! So what do you say we-”
“Oh, fuck you,” England said. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to prove to the universe by being a sociopathic tyrant, and I don’t even fucking care, but whatever your goal in ruling this planet is, you won’t get to it any faster by killing everything you don’t like. You know what the tricky thing about tyranny is, Master?” He spat the word like it was some disgusting substance swallowed accidentally. “It ends. Nothing lasts forever, and the people you oppress will never stay that way for long. You can stamp down their efforts all you like, you can restrict and oppress and deny but in the end they will always win and no amount of power can stop them because once they’re pushed to the breaking point they’ll have no choice but to push back. Trust me on this one.”
The Master blinked.
“So do what you want,” England said. “It’ll only hasten the end. I wonder how many people have decided their lives are worth less than their children’s by now?”
Before the Master could say anything in reply, however, there was a knock on the door. One of the endless black-suited guards stepped into view with a sharp salute. “Sir,” he said. “Further intel has arrived. We’ve confirmed the location of Martha Jones.”
The Master returned to his former grin. “Well, isn’t this a night,” he said, glancing back at England. “Two rebel leaders at once! I’d love to stay and chat, but I think there’s someone else who needs to hear this more than you do. And he’s far less foul-mouthed.”
“Go fuck yourself,” England muttered.
“Funny story, tried that once, it all devolved into a bit of a paradox and I still can’t remember how I got those bite marks, but that’s a tale for another time-toodles!” the Master said, waving and following the guard out of England’s cell. The door slammed shut.
England remembered what the Doctor had told him of Martha Jones. The way he’d described her, she might have been one of the bravest, most determined people in the universe (and of course the Doctor would know a thing or two about that). It didn’t seem right that she would just…be caught. But then, he’d thought the same of America, hadn’t he?
It didn’t do to dwell on it. England leaned his head back against the wall, and waited to be right.
---
Okay, so he hadn’t expected the wait would be so short.
England had felt the Valiant shake in the storm, (time-storm? He wasn’t sure what it was called, and frankly didn’t care), and he’d known something was up, because suddenly-suddenly he could feel again, feel the streets of his cities move with wild and impatient crowds, his lands fill with idle growth, his skies and rivers at their customary levels of pollution. The world was full again. The world was alive again. And if with that came the jolt of forcible managerial displacement-well. He welcomed that, too, and without the slightest amount of guilt.
The Doctor came to release him later, and wasn’t that just as odd, because now the Doctor was stick-thin and bore hair more ridiculous than one of Poland’s occasional ‘experiments’, and where before the Doctor had looked quietly hopeful, now he seemed possessed with an unimaginable melancholy. Still, the Doctor smiled to see him, and there was no sorrow in the man’s voice when he told England that the timeline had been fixed, the world was as it should be.
“I can tell,” England said. “It feels…” He hesitated, not knowing quite how to describe it.
“A comfortable flow under your skin,” the Doctor said. “A sensation that’s just always there, and when it isn’t, something’s gone wrong, but when it is, no matter what’s going on, you can focus on it and everything seems so much more manageable, just as long as that feeling still exists.” He gave another small smile. “My people had a word for it, though our usage of it was a bit different from yours.”
“Exactly,” England said. “Comfortable. Secure. And I suppose it’s all thanks to you and Ms. Jones?”
“And the rest of the world,” the Doctor said. “I did tell you. Your people are going to be around for a very, very long time.”
“Then I’d best get back to making sure they don’t bollocks it up,” England said, standing up from his seat and stretching. Then it occurred to him. “…you said the timeline was fixed. Does that mean we’ve gone back where we started? Does everyone remember?”
“Yes to the first, no to the second,” the Doctor said. “Only the people on this ship will remember the events of the past year. I wish they wouldn’t have to.” And again he looked profoundly sorrowful. If England had been one of the more emotive nations, he might have wanted to give the man a hug.
As it was, he settled for putting a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I would rather have to deal with unpleasant memories than go through new ones,” England said. “I do not think there is anyone who would have a different opinion.”
The Doctor’s expression eased a bit, if only a bit. “Thank you,” he said.
“I think it’s I who should be saying that to you,” England said, raising an eyebrow. “Since you did restore the lives of hundreds of millions of people.” England knew he wasn’t very good at expressing emotions-beyond anger and annoyance, of course-but it was awkward, standing like this, being unable to say anything that would convey the sheer enormity of what the Doctor and his companion had done. How could anyone possibly articulate it? Even effusive Italy would likely be at a loss for words. He shifted on his feet.
“It isn’t much,” England said, suddenly. “But-I can at least promise you that this country will always be open to you. Through your actions, you have become as much a part of my history as any great leader, artist, or thinker. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, I will. You have only to ask, and if it is in my power to grant it, I shall, and if it is not, I will beat down doors until it is. Consider yourself an official ally of the British Empire.”
The Doctor’s smile was a little brighter. “There’s a family that’s going to need some help. I don’t quite know what their feelings on me would be, but they might have fewer objections to being watched over by someone closer to home.”
England nodded. “Done. Anything else?”
“Ah…yes.” And again the smile faded. “Would you happen to know of a nearby empty field? There’s…something I need to do, and it would be best if nobody else was around to see it.”
“I think so, yes,” England said, considering it for a moment. “I can show you when you’re ready.”
“Good.” The Doctor motioned towards the door. “Shall we go, then? UNIT’s about to swarm the place, I expect. It might be best not to interrupt them.”
England removed his hand from the Doctor’s shoulder. “Yes, it rather might,” he said. “Although…bugger, this means another election, doesn’t it?”
The Doctor carefully looked away. “Yes,” he said. “I believe so.” He paused. “Come to think of it, I hope President Winter had a decent second-in-command too…”
England pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure America’s going to-” And he stopped, there, because it suddenly hit him that his kind were all restored, too; no one was captured, Japan was alive, America was-America was quite likely in a bit of a panic right now.
“I think,” England said, “my presence may be required at a meeting quite soon.” He’d have to keep his reactions realistic; any emotion he might feel on seeing the others in their normal states would seem out-of-place. But of course, he’d been suppressing such things for centuries, and if he seemed a little strained, they would likely assume it was merely due to the sudden vacancy of command. It would only be expected. The real trouble would be convincing them that the threat was over, that it had just been the work of one man and not in any way a sign of future attacks against the United States or any other country-oh, keeping America from trying to start a war against a nonexistent enemy would be joyous.
…and perhaps welcoming. It had been some time since he’d had the opportunity to argue with the others. (Or no time at all. That was going to take some getting used to.)
The Doctor was saying something; England broke out of his reverie. “-naturally,” the Doctor said. “Where would the rest of the planet be if good old Britannia wasn’t there to force some sense into them?”
“Britannia was a woman,” England said. “I doubt I’ve the figure to pull off her toga, no matter what France keeps insisting.”
The Doctor grinned. “Right, right, of course,” he said. “You’d best be off-there are going to be quite a lot of questions, I think, and you’ll need to think of a way to answer them without sounding like you’ve gone mad.”
“I think they’d be more confused if I didn’t,” England said, raising an eyebrow. “They’ve come to expect certain things of me, and I’d hate to disappoint them.”
The main deck was swarming with soldiers and commotion. England noticed two of the maids gathered with an older man and a young woman he’d never seen before-and realized, based on the young woman’s distinctly non-Valiant-standard clothing, that she must have been Martha Jones herself. So the others were her family? He’d seen the maids before, but never thought to ascribe any kind of relation between them; indeed, he’d not even known their names. He wondered if they knew who he was. He decided it didn’t matter.
The Doctor must have noticed them, too, for he made a brief apology and moved over there rather quickly. Only Martha seemed genuinely pleased to see him; the others were wary, cautious. Another man, this one stained with soot and old blood, was talking to one of the guards, who seemed confused, lost, as if perhaps they hadn’t known what they were doing there in the first place. The man noticed England standing in the middle of the deck and walked over.
“Hey, you look a little bit dazed,” the man said. “You’re not UNIT, are you? Because I don’t think standing around is going to get any of this cleaned up any faster.”
“No, I’m not a member of that particular organization,” England said, and he did feel a bit dazed. “Although I suppose I would have a certain amount of authority over it if I needed to.”
“Right,” the man said. “Listen, I’d love to chat, but this place is going to get even busier once the rest of the press shows up, and we’re having a hard enough time keeping out the ones that are already here, so-” He paused, cocking his head. “Do I know you?”
“Do you live in Britain?” England asked.
“Yeah. Well. Cardiff. But I know my way around.”
“Then I’d imagine that you know me very well,” England said. “I take it the ship’s landed? Would it be possible for me to leave?”
“Yes and yes,” the man said, still looking at him oddly. “I’m sorry, it just feels like I’ve met you somewhere before. Who are you exactly?”
“The anthropomorphic personification of England,” England said.
“Oh. Cool.” The man grinned. “Wanna get a drink later?”
“As wonderful an idea as alcohol seems right now, I suspect there are a number of people who would very much to talk with me as soon as possible,” England said. And I’d like to talk with them. “So if you could just clear a path to the exit…”
The man looked distinctly disappointed. “Your loss,” he said, and shanghaied a few of the less dazed-looking guards into clearing the route to the door. England slipped through it as unobtrusively as he could.
And then he was outside. He breathed his own air for the first time in months. Of course, the air then proceeded to fill up with camera flashes and microphones, as England suddenly remembered what the man had said about the press.
“Excuse me, sir, sir, do you-”
“Sir, are you part of-”
“Sir, can you tell us-”
“I don’t, I’m not, I can’t, and I’m not going to,” England said, as loud as he could be without actually yelling. He’d never liked the press. They always wanted to know things.
He managed to make his escape without being chased too far, and it was at that point that he remembered his mobile had been destroyed months ago (never, except it was, because it wasn’t there) and he wasn’t carrying any money for a payphone. Swearing not entirely under his breath, England rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he noticed the soldiers peering between the bars of the tall iron gate that led to the landing pad, and he tilted his head. Well. Why not.
He walked up to the gate and looked a man behind it directly in the eyes. “How much do you love your Queen?” he asked.
“Er, as much as the next person, I suppose,” the man said.
“If you lend me your mobile, I’ll put a good word in for you with her,” England said, holding out his hand.
The man blinked. A grin spread across his face. “Right on, mate,” he said, and fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out a phone and handing it over.
England took it, thanked him, moved out of earshot, and quickly punched in a set of numbers. It didn’t even make it to one ring before it was picked up.
“Hello? England, is that you? I swear to god this had better be you, I’ve been trying to call you since I saw the news but then the news went dead and it said your number was no longer in service and that is just bullshit because I know we get permanent plans for these things-”
“There’s a very long story behind that, and I am never going to tell you any of it, America,” England said, and he didn’t suddenly feel far more relaxed, he didn’t. “I’m assuming there’s going to be a meeting-at the very least, your suddenly-promoted new boss is going to want some answers, and probably the others will want to know what’s happening too, won’t they.”
“Man, most chaotic twenty minutes of my life, I swear, first it was Canada wanting to know if I was all right and then Japan saying his boss had authorized military support in case there turned out to be more of those Tocla-things and France saying he couldn’t get through to you either-you know, I think he actually sounded a little worried, there, I totally would have made fun of him for it except I had to keep trying to call you and you weren’t there-”
“America,” England said, “breathe.”
He could hear a sudden inhale through the mobile. He smiled, a little. But only a little.
“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes, there is going to be a meeting’,” England said. “I’m at the edge of the landing pad for the Valiant. Things are a bit…hectic here. Have a car sent. Where are you?”
“I’m at your house right now,” America said. “Well, outside it, obviously you’re not there to let me in, and it’s not like you ever gave me a key-yeah, I’ll grab a cab and be right over. And what do you mean you’re not going to tell me any of it?”
“I’ll see you soon, America,” England said, and ended the call. He walked back over to the man and gave him back his phone. “You’ve served your country well, soldier,” he said. “Now, if you could let me out…”
Once he was through the gates, England found a nearby wall and slid down it. He was exhausted, and he was home, and home wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d earned the right to rest for a few minutes, thank you. He drew up his legs and rested his hands between his knees. After a moment, he closed his eyes.
His country flowed beneath his skin, murmuring in soft, soothing tones. His government was in disarray, his people were confused, and he was going to have to make up answers for quite a lot of questions, but England almost didn’t care. There was always something going on, anyway; dealing with a presidential assassination and what he was probably going to term a prime ministerial suicide seemed like nothing compared to being able to feel his home again. Even wars, depression, and plague had never made him feel so starved for that most basic level of comfort.
The next time he had an election, England decided, he was damn well going to have UNIT run a background check.
Still. England was allowed to be apprehensive. There was something-off about the man. Oh yes, he was charming, there was no doubt about that, but of course England had seen plenty of charmers in his day, too, and he was far from the only nation who’d grown wary of them. This first official meeting, then, made him feel nervous, uncomfortable. America had called to congratulate him on the election. That alone was cause for worry.
So it was with no small share of unease that England reached out and shook the hand of Harold Saxon, the new Prime Minister. His new boss.
“I’m sorry, you’re the what now?” Saxon asked, looking at him askance. It wasn’t an unusual reaction. In the old days, the royals had grown up with him around; they’d never thought much of it. But of course, in these days of any random person rising to power, there had to be…explanations.
England sighed. “I am your country, Prime Minister. I am the living embodiment of the land and people of which you are now in charge. Do try to get used to it.”
“I swear, every moment of this job is a revelation. Did you know one of the dining rooms is two storeys high? -well, no, you probably did,” Saxon said. “This is fascinating. I am fascinated. How long have you been here? And have you always looked like that?”
“I’ll choose to ignore your last question, if I may,” England said, “and instead say that I have been here for a very, very long time. I was here before we had kings. I was here before any of the people on this land could conceive of empire. I was here before ‘English’ was even an idea in anyone’s head. I have been here much, much longer than you, Prime Minister, and I should rather hope I’ll be here long after you are gone. And yes, I did know the State Dining Room is two storeys high. So is the kitchen. Not that you’ll be going there very often.”
Saxon let out a whistle. “Well, stone the crows. Can you do anything special? Teleport, summon King Arthur from his grave?”
“I can advise you on almost every possible matter concerning this country,” England said. “In the event of a war, I can aid the men and women on the field. I don’t think King Arthur would like being summoned. He always did complain about everyone wanting his attention, and he deserves his rest.”
“You know what, I think I like you, embodiment of my lands and people,” Saxon said, throwing an arm around England’s shoulder. England tensed. “I think you’re going to be very useful indeed. So what do I call you? You’ve got to have a name of some kind.”
“Arthur Kirkland, when it’s necessary,” England said. “And we call ourselves nations. But my real name is England. Because I am England.” Sometimes the point had to be hammered in a little.
“What, just England? Not the rest of it? No bonny Irish in you or anything?” Saxon asked. He looked disappointed.
“Just England,” England said. “You’ll meet the rest of the Kingdom later; things are a bit hectic right now.” He wasn’t looking forward to having to hear what his siblings thought of their new leader-either they’d think Saxon was just wonderful, which would be disconcerting, or they’d agree that he was a bit strange, which would possibly be worse.
“I suppose I can deal with that,” Saxon said. “More millennia-old beings, eh? It’s positively mindboggling. My mind, it is boggled.”
“Many, many more,” England said. “One for every country. Or two. But mostly one. Really there are only a couple of cases where there are two, and in one of them the extra is just being stubborn about it-but I digress. Welcome to the grand stage of world politics, Prime Minister. It’s a bit more complicated than most people let on.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Saxon said, and that grin couldn’t possibly be the product of a reasonable mind. “Say, do you show up in the Cabinet often? Only I’m going to be having my first meeting there soon, you see, and it might be a bit much for me to handle if I had to deal with so many new things all at once…”
“As a matter of fact, I have some other business to attend to,” England said. He didn’t, not really. But by God did he want to get away from this man. “I do appear at most Cabinet meetings when possible, though. But generally not Parliament. And I am always available for consultation, if you require it.” Or if I think you do, he didn’t add.
“Splendid, splendid,” Saxon said, still beaming. He (finally) released his arm from England’s shoulders. “I’ll be off, then-I look forward very much to working with you, Mr. Kirkland. England. Whatever. You know, that’s probably going to get confusing.”
“Indeed,” England said. Well, it did. But only for humans. The other nations tended not to have any problems with it, although they were admittedly used to it.
When the Prime Minister was finally gone, England let out a deep breath. Oh, this new boss’ reign was going to be a long one.
---
“Aliens,” England said flatly. “He said he’s come into contact with aliens. I don’t suppose you’ve been letting Tony roam free again, have you?”
It was difficult to tell over the phone, but England could feel America shrugging. “Hey, the guy mostly stays in the basement, I haven’t heard of him going anywhere. And haven’t you had your fair share of stuff like this lately? There was that thing on Christmas, and-the other thing on the other Christmas, actually-”
England had resisted telling America about UNIT since its inception, and he wasn’t about to start now. Frankly, it was embarrassing. Bad enough that nobody believed him about ghosts and fairies; it would be even worse if he went about declaring that his people had an entire government-funded organization dedicated to studying and combating things from other worlds-well, actually, Japan might listen. England sometimes thought that Japan had more experience in such matters than he was letting on. But the point was, England didn’t make it a habit of talking about that sort of thing. The official responses were so much easier.
“Nothing’s been proven about either of those cases,” England said. “Or the instance with the supposed killer robots, since I know you’re going to mention that one if I don’t. But now I have a Prime Minister who not only believes in those events, but appears determined to instigate more of them. And you think this is a good thing.”
“Man, you just don’t get it, do you,” America said. “Aliens are cool. Tony’s kinda boring, he doesn’t really do anything, but other aliens? I wonder if they’ve got people like us, too. Alien nations. Hah, like that TV show, did you ever watch-”
“I watched The Twilight Zone once,” England said. Well, more than once, but damned if he was going to let America know he occasionally enjoyed aspects of the other country’s culture. “The Earth was visited by an alien race who claimed to bring only peace and servitude. Then it turned out they wanted to eat us. If aliens did exist, it would not necessarily be a good thing, America.”
“Guess we’re gonna have to wait and see, then,” America said. “I mean, this Saxon guy’s gotta be pretty special if he can just snap his fingers and make first contact, right?”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” England said, and hung up.
---
America wasn’t there when his president died.
Odd, how that was the one thing England’s mind could keep a hold of in all the chaos. He was on board the Valiant, yes, but America for some reason or another couldn’t make it, and-and England knew what it was like when your boss died, and it didn’t matter where you were, it was like the world dropped out from under your feet. Small wonder Russia had started behaving the way he did after the slaughter of the Romanovs; no surprise Italy withdrew into himself after his people dealt with Mussolini. Of course, America had felt it several times before, whether through madmen or opponents of alleged tyranny or the disgruntled unemployed, but something about this was-and then the charming, persuasive, magnetic voice commanded, “Reduce by one-tenth,” and England fell to the ground, every inch of his body screaming.
Dimly, he wondered if the rest of his kind were feeling it too.
---
England had grown accustomed to saying that events weren’t the worst he had ever seen in his long life. Centuries of war and royal stupidity and atrocity simply made most things seem small. He wasn’t saying that much these days. There wasn’t much he could say at all.
Saxon-no, the Master, what a ridiculous name, his parents must have been out of their minds, which would actually make sense, given their offspring-kept England onboard the Valiant whenever possible, only occasionally letting him out to see if anything ‘interesting’ would happen. The physical experiments had mostly gone away, but there was still so much the Master seemed determined to find out about nations. England hadn’t thought himself a terribly religious man, not after all the twists and turns and convolutions his country had tried with such things over the years, but he found himself praying, these days, that no one new would be captured, no more of them would be separated from their people. Being trapped and unable to help his people was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t stand the idea of that being the case for the others, too.
Conversations with the Master, then, were always mixed with both dread and hope. He was England’s only source of news, after all; what he said could bring either.
“I do wish I could bring you a friend to play with,” the Master said one day, tapping his fingers against the wall of England’s cell. “But then you’d probably find some heroic way to escape and thwart all my insidious plans. That almost happened a couple of times, actually. I think I’d be quite fond of that Prussia fellow if he wasn’t so persistent. And I’ll never cease to be surprised how hard it is to dampen Poland’s spirits.”
“He’s gone through worse,” England said. “I don’t think even you can compare to what he and his people survived. How’s your search for Russia going, again? How many of your little friends have you lost in the snow?”
The Master glowered. “He’ll show up once the word gets out that I’ll be executing his people indiscriminately until he does.”
“Will he,” England said. “I wonder.”
“Oh, but I just know you’ll be delighted to hear about what’s been going on with America,” the Master said. His voice grew menacing. “We finally have a lead, did I tell you? Apparently he’s become quite the folk hero. Traveling around his country, bringing aid and hope to all who see him. It’s downright inspiring. Of course, once we find him we’ll show his people what being inspirational gets you…”
England stayed silent. Saying anything would only give the Master a reason to provoke him, and he wasn’t about to be so amenable. Still, he felt sick, helpless, frustrated. If only there was something he could do-
“I think I’ll get a video feed,” the Master said. “So you can see it too. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the fun, would we? I know I haven’t been able to actually kill any of you yet, but, really, that just means I don’t have to worry about overdoing things.”
England still said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
The Master sighed. “You’re no fun when you’re like this,” he said. “I suppose I’ll go find someone else to talk to, then. I think one of the maids is free-”
“What do you want me to say?” England asked. “Do you want me to rage at you not to harm him? Or any of them? Do you want me to beg? I’ve never done the latter, and I don’t plan to now. If you think there is anything you can do to him that will break him, I invite you to try. He’s too much of a fool to consider defeat.”
When the Master grinned, it was nothing but teeth. “Oh, I know what it’s like to deal with arrogant fools. I know it very, very well.
“And believe me-that just makes it all the more enjoyable to make them realize they’ve failed.”
---
Sometimes, England met the other people on the ship. The maids were always swift, careful, never staying anywhere they thought they might be seen for long; the guards might as well have been walls for all they spoke; Mrs. Saxon always left him more unnerved than usual. But there was the old man, too, and for all that England felt eternally trapped, eternally and frustratingly powerless-seeing him made it go away, just for a little bit.
After all, it wasn’t as if they were strangers to each other.
“I think it’s high time you started wearing something a little more respectable,” England said. “Though the sneakers could use a bit of work. Still, in comparison to those opera capes you were so fond of-”
“Those opera capes were very respectable,” the Doctor insisted. “They possessed far more class than the military uniforms I was surrounded by. Just because I’ve chosen to wear a suit now doesn’t mean I’ll disrespect anything I wore previously.”
“Those opera capes made you look a dandy and you know it,” England said, shaking his head. “Of course, even they were better than that scarf. I can’t imagine how you could have worn it without getting it caught on everything.”
“Sheer skill, I assure you. And the balance of a champion.”
England had been informed of the creation of UNIT only a few minutes after the Prime Minister of the time. And, well, yes, he’d been more than a bit unconvinced, but he wouldn’t dismiss evidence put right in front of his eyes, and however ridiculous that thing with the metal men had been, it was the kind of ridiculous that left bodies behind. And then the thing with the walking plastic, and the thing with the lizard people, and the other thing with the walking plastic-well. A man who has on occasion spoken to unicorns cannot afford to be a skeptic. So it only made sense that he’d known of the organization’s scientific adviser. And once he’d known of him, it only made sense to meet the man.
True, England hadn’t met him a great many times; the lives of nations are busy ones. But the Doctor was not exactly the sort of person who didn’t leave an impression. And when one only has a single sane person to talk to, the lack of an in-depth prior relationship becomes less important.
“He still hasn’t told me anything about Hungary, you know,” England said. “Or Belarus. I think he doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of knowing his failures.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “Belarus is the one with the knife, right?”
“And Hungary the one with the skillet and the centuries of vicious nomadic strength,” England said with a nod. “Personally, I think the two of them are enough to make anyone hesitant of attack. I know he’s taken Austria captive-oh, but I wonder if he realizes what a foolish move that was…”
“There’s just something about the human spirit, isn’t there,” the Doctor said. A creaky smile is a smile nonetheless. “No one’s people will ever stop resisting, and because of that, none of you will either. You just have to hold out. I promise, it won’t be for nothing.”
“You keep saying that,” England said. “And you also keep saying you can’t say any more than that. It gets a bit frustrating, you know.”
The Doctor looked at him sadly. “I know,” he said. “But it’s the truth. You just have to stay strong, and this won’t last forever, I promise.”
“Nothing lasts forever,” England said. “Not even my kind. I only know of a few who vanished, myself, but there were people thousands of years before I came into being, and they must have had us too, or something like us. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to know you don’t have much time left.”
“Don’t,” the Doctor said. His voice was oddly blank. “Think about the time you have now, not the time you might not have later. Otherwise you’ll reach that point sooner than you think.”
England snorted. “You know, sometimes you remind me of America. He never worries about the future either. Sometimes I think that’s going to be what-” He stopped. There was a moment where neither of them said anything.
“I met him once,” the Doctor said finally. “A while ago. I had a thing for Victorian wear back then. He was very…enthusiastic. Does he always have food on him?”
“God, you’ve no idea,” England said, shuddering. “I’ve tried to convince him he doesn’t need to eat that much, but he must have the metabolism of a hummingbird-even when he was little, I’d catch him raiding the cupboards at night…”
“I did the same thing when I was his age,” the Doctor said. “Well-no, actually, probably I was a bit younger than that. Or maybe I was older than that. When we were the same equivalent age. You know, I’ve been all over the universe, seen so many things, but I hardly ever find anyone with quite a varied growth rate as you lot. And he’s one of the younger ones.”
“China claims to have been around for over four millennia,” England said. “Certainly no one can disprove it.” His jaw tightened. “Of course, he’s a rare case. And even he is wary of the passage of time. None of us knows how long we have, not really. The world changes so fast.”
“And sometimes the changes aren’t as permanent as they look,” the Doctor said, and there was that damned smile again. “You and your people will be around for a very, very long time, England. I should know. Personal experience, and all that.”
“I can only take your word for it,” England said. Something occurred to him. “…I don’t suppose you’ve met any of us later? After all of this?”
“I couldn’t tell you if I had,” the Doctor said. “Messes up the timeline. But-yes, actually. A few of you.”
“Then I won’t ask which ones,” England said, sighing. “Probably it’s going to be Sealand who outlives us all. I shudder to think of it.”
“Sealand, that’s the little fellow with the-”
“The sailor uniform, yes, and I’ve no idea why he even exists, that island of his isn’t a country, even if it does have a flag.” England smiled. “The Master hasn’t told me about him, either. I suppose that country or not, the boy does have a certain perseverance.”
“You all do,” the Doctor said.
“Yes, yes, you keep on saying that, I get your point,” England said. “What about your compatriots? I’d like to hear more about this Martha, she sounds like a wonderful young woman.”
“She rather is, yes,” the Doctor said, smiling. “Deft hand with a bow and arrow, too, though you’d never think it…”
They continued talking for some time. And amidst the horrors of the world below, at least for a while, England could feel that glimmer of hope-that if anyone could know anything about all of this, it would be the man in front of him, and the man in front of him was saying this was not the end. Hope, then. A perilous emotion, to be sure, but not one to be tossed aside lightly.
So England hoped. What else could he do?
---
Japan burned for days, the Master said.
England didn’t talk much to the Doctor after that.
He hadn’t seen Japan in months, of course; even before this, it had been some time since the last great meeting, and casual visits were usually rare. But England had respected him, enjoyed his company, and even with some years of strained relations there had always been their former alliance to remember fondly-and now, there would be no more of any of that. England couldn’t tell for sure, of course. But it felt like there was an empty space in the world. Add one more to the list, then, with Roma and the grandfather of Germany. But those two had died knowing their lands had new stewards. The sun no longer rose on Japan’s isles. There would be no new nation rising from the ashes.
“You’d think they would have learned by now what good rebelling does them,” the Master said. Once more, his fingers beat out a staccato rhythm on the walls of England’s cell. “It would all be so much easier if they’d stop. Why can’t they see that? All they have to do is listen, and things wouldn’t be so bad. But no, listening is beyond them. So I have to make gestures. They understand those, at least.”
“At the end,” England said. “At the end, did you have him? Had you captured him?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? He’s been kept for a few weeks now. A real tough nut, that one. We could hardly get him to say anything at all-frankly, half of this is his fault. And then he had to go and escape. Well, we can’t have that, can we? And it’s getting so boring with you lot. None of you do anything interesting. Proof that you can exit this mortal coil is the most fascinating thing any of you have given me in months,” the Master said.
“He died defending his people, then,” England said. “There are worse ways for us to go.” Better to die in a flash than watch your culture disintegrate.
The Master waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, death with honor and all that. He’s still dead. I wonder, does that mean all his people died with him? Would a few stragglers be enough to keep the identity of a country alive?”
“Apparently not,” England said. “I highly doubt all of his countrymen and women perished-perhaps one day, if the group grows and does not absorb itself into another…” It made him a little sick to think about. Could there be a new Japan, some day? Would they be the same? Nothing like this had happened before; likely not even China would know for sure.
“One day. Mm, no, I don’t think so. It’s getting closer and closer, you know. The day everything will be ready. Aren’t you looking forward to it? The whole universe will be open. You pride yourself on your command of the seas, if I recall correctly. And soon, you will have everything beyond the sky,” the Master said.
“I once heard of someone who wanted to rule everything he could get his hands on,” England said. “I believe his orphaned grandsons would have something to say on his success.”
“You’re awfully snippy today,” the Master said. “Whatever could be the matter?”
“One of my dearest acquaintances and the millions of people he represented are dead,” England said.
“Oh, that. You’re still fixated on that? You’ll never get anywhere in life if you dwell on the past,” the Master said. “Take it from me-although admittedly most of my past was destroyed in an unimaginably epic battle, so perhaps I’m not the best example.”
“Perhaps you’re not,” England said. He’d always had quite a lot of past to deal with. Lately, he’d been rather more concerned with the present.
“Anyway,” the Master said, getting up from his seat on the bed, “it’s been fun, but I’ve got countless unspeakable things to do. Ta!” And he left before England didn’t say goodbye.
England stared at the floor. One down, he thought. Ashes, ashes. He could feel the echoes of his people’s suffering under his skin, the edges of madness creeping up in the dark corners of his mind, and he wondered what Japan had felt in those final minutes, when everything he was made of burned to emptiness. He wondered if someday he would get to find out.
A perilous emotion, indeed.
---
It was some months later, in the evening, when a dressing gown-bedecked Master burst into the room with the most frightening grin England had seen yet and said, “We’ve got him.”
There was no need to ask who he was.
“Someone gave a tip from Colorado, of all places. Who’d bother trying to save Colorado? Well, I honestly couldn’t say, I don’t know a damn thing about the place. It could be a tropical rainforest for all I care. But whatever sort of place it is, some wonderful person in it did their civilian duty and called in to report the location of your colonial upstart. The Toclafane had him cornered within the hour. I do love a responsible citizenry, don’t you?”
England’s blood was starting to ice, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t going to give the Master the satisfaction of-oh, to hell with it, there was only so much stoicism anyone could have, and this. This was. The Master had shown him the pictures of what was happening to China, to Prussia, to Wales; he’d tried hope and he’d tried stubbornness and he could feel his people ebbing away day after day after day and his land was covered with factories that spat poison and the world was dying, every Englishman or woman outside the country gave him the tiniest connection to wherever they were and he could feel the corrosion everywhere. And now there wasn’t even this.
“I have to say, I’m feeling so good about this I might just visit him myself,” the Master said, still grinning like a wild beast. “And what do you know, the video feed’s ready to be set up! So what do you say we-”
“Oh, fuck you,” England said. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to prove to the universe by being a sociopathic tyrant, and I don’t even fucking care, but whatever your goal in ruling this planet is, you won’t get to it any faster by killing everything you don’t like. You know what the tricky thing about tyranny is, Master?” He spat the word like it was some disgusting substance swallowed accidentally. “It ends. Nothing lasts forever, and the people you oppress will never stay that way for long. You can stamp down their efforts all you like, you can restrict and oppress and deny but in the end they will always win and no amount of power can stop them because once they’re pushed to the breaking point they’ll have no choice but to push back. Trust me on this one.”
The Master blinked.
“So do what you want,” England said. “It’ll only hasten the end. I wonder how many people have decided their lives are worth less than their children’s by now?”
Before the Master could say anything in reply, however, there was a knock on the door. One of the endless black-suited guards stepped into view with a sharp salute. “Sir,” he said. “Further intel has arrived. We’ve confirmed the location of Martha Jones.”
The Master returned to his former grin. “Well, isn’t this a night,” he said, glancing back at England. “Two rebel leaders at once! I’d love to stay and chat, but I think there’s someone else who needs to hear this more than you do. And he’s far less foul-mouthed.”
“Go fuck yourself,” England muttered.
“Funny story, tried that once, it all devolved into a bit of a paradox and I still can’t remember how I got those bite marks, but that’s a tale for another time-toodles!” the Master said, waving and following the guard out of England’s cell. The door slammed shut.
England remembered what the Doctor had told him of Martha Jones. The way he’d described her, she might have been one of the bravest, most determined people in the universe (and of course the Doctor would know a thing or two about that). It didn’t seem right that she would just…be caught. But then, he’d thought the same of America, hadn’t he?
It didn’t do to dwell on it. England leaned his head back against the wall, and waited to be right.
---
Okay, so he hadn’t expected the wait would be so short.
England had felt the Valiant shake in the storm, (time-storm? He wasn’t sure what it was called, and frankly didn’t care), and he’d known something was up, because suddenly-suddenly he could feel again, feel the streets of his cities move with wild and impatient crowds, his lands fill with idle growth, his skies and rivers at their customary levels of pollution. The world was full again. The world was alive again. And if with that came the jolt of forcible managerial displacement-well. He welcomed that, too, and without the slightest amount of guilt.
The Doctor came to release him later, and wasn’t that just as odd, because now the Doctor was stick-thin and bore hair more ridiculous than one of Poland’s occasional ‘experiments’, and where before the Doctor had looked quietly hopeful, now he seemed possessed with an unimaginable melancholy. Still, the Doctor smiled to see him, and there was no sorrow in the man’s voice when he told England that the timeline had been fixed, the world was as it should be.
“I can tell,” England said. “It feels…” He hesitated, not knowing quite how to describe it.
“A comfortable flow under your skin,” the Doctor said. “A sensation that’s just always there, and when it isn’t, something’s gone wrong, but when it is, no matter what’s going on, you can focus on it and everything seems so much more manageable, just as long as that feeling still exists.” He gave another small smile. “My people had a word for it, though our usage of it was a bit different from yours.”
“Exactly,” England said. “Comfortable. Secure. And I suppose it’s all thanks to you and Ms. Jones?”
“And the rest of the world,” the Doctor said. “I did tell you. Your people are going to be around for a very, very long time.”
“Then I’d best get back to making sure they don’t bollocks it up,” England said, standing up from his seat and stretching. Then it occurred to him. “…you said the timeline was fixed. Does that mean we’ve gone back where we started? Does everyone remember?”
“Yes to the first, no to the second,” the Doctor said. “Only the people on this ship will remember the events of the past year. I wish they wouldn’t have to.” And again he looked profoundly sorrowful. If England had been one of the more emotive nations, he might have wanted to give the man a hug.
As it was, he settled for putting a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “I would rather have to deal with unpleasant memories than go through new ones,” England said. “I do not think there is anyone who would have a different opinion.”
The Doctor’s expression eased a bit, if only a bit. “Thank you,” he said.
“I think it’s I who should be saying that to you,” England said, raising an eyebrow. “Since you did restore the lives of hundreds of millions of people.” England knew he wasn’t very good at expressing emotions-beyond anger and annoyance, of course-but it was awkward, standing like this, being unable to say anything that would convey the sheer enormity of what the Doctor and his companion had done. How could anyone possibly articulate it? Even effusive Italy would likely be at a loss for words. He shifted on his feet.
“It isn’t much,” England said, suddenly. “But-I can at least promise you that this country will always be open to you. Through your actions, you have become as much a part of my history as any great leader, artist, or thinker. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, I will. You have only to ask, and if it is in my power to grant it, I shall, and if it is not, I will beat down doors until it is. Consider yourself an official ally of the British Empire.”
The Doctor’s smile was a little brighter. “There’s a family that’s going to need some help. I don’t quite know what their feelings on me would be, but they might have fewer objections to being watched over by someone closer to home.”
England nodded. “Done. Anything else?”
“Ah…yes.” And again the smile faded. “Would you happen to know of a nearby empty field? There’s…something I need to do, and it would be best if nobody else was around to see it.”
“I think so, yes,” England said, considering it for a moment. “I can show you when you’re ready.”
“Good.” The Doctor motioned towards the door. “Shall we go, then? UNIT’s about to swarm the place, I expect. It might be best not to interrupt them.”
England removed his hand from the Doctor’s shoulder. “Yes, it rather might,” he said. “Although…bugger, this means another election, doesn’t it?”
The Doctor carefully looked away. “Yes,” he said. “I believe so.” He paused. “Come to think of it, I hope President Winter had a decent second-in-command too…”
England pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure America’s going to-” And he stopped, there, because it suddenly hit him that his kind were all restored, too; no one was captured, Japan was alive, America was-America was quite likely in a bit of a panic right now.
“I think,” England said, “my presence may be required at a meeting quite soon.” He’d have to keep his reactions realistic; any emotion he might feel on seeing the others in their normal states would seem out-of-place. But of course, he’d been suppressing such things for centuries, and if he seemed a little strained, they would likely assume it was merely due to the sudden vacancy of command. It would only be expected. The real trouble would be convincing them that the threat was over, that it had just been the work of one man and not in any way a sign of future attacks against the United States or any other country-oh, keeping America from trying to start a war against a nonexistent enemy would be joyous.
…and perhaps welcoming. It had been some time since he’d had the opportunity to argue with the others. (Or no time at all. That was going to take some getting used to.)
The Doctor was saying something; England broke out of his reverie. “-naturally,” the Doctor said. “Where would the rest of the planet be if good old Britannia wasn’t there to force some sense into them?”
“Britannia was a woman,” England said. “I doubt I’ve the figure to pull off her toga, no matter what France keeps insisting.”
The Doctor grinned. “Right, right, of course,” he said. “You’d best be off-there are going to be quite a lot of questions, I think, and you’ll need to think of a way to answer them without sounding like you’ve gone mad.”
“I think they’d be more confused if I didn’t,” England said, raising an eyebrow. “They’ve come to expect certain things of me, and I’d hate to disappoint them.”
The main deck was swarming with soldiers and commotion. England noticed two of the maids gathered with an older man and a young woman he’d never seen before-and realized, based on the young woman’s distinctly non-Valiant-standard clothing, that she must have been Martha Jones herself. So the others were her family? He’d seen the maids before, but never thought to ascribe any kind of relation between them; indeed, he’d not even known their names. He wondered if they knew who he was. He decided it didn’t matter.
The Doctor must have noticed them, too, for he made a brief apology and moved over there rather quickly. Only Martha seemed genuinely pleased to see him; the others were wary, cautious. Another man, this one stained with soot and old blood, was talking to one of the guards, who seemed confused, lost, as if perhaps they hadn’t known what they were doing there in the first place. The man noticed England standing in the middle of the deck and walked over.
“Hey, you look a little bit dazed,” the man said. “You’re not UNIT, are you? Because I don’t think standing around is going to get any of this cleaned up any faster.”
“No, I’m not a member of that particular organization,” England said, and he did feel a bit dazed. “Although I suppose I would have a certain amount of authority over it if I needed to.”
“Right,” the man said. “Listen, I’d love to chat, but this place is going to get even busier once the rest of the press shows up, and we’re having a hard enough time keeping out the ones that are already here, so-” He paused, cocking his head. “Do I know you?”
“Do you live in Britain?” England asked.
“Yeah. Well. Cardiff. But I know my way around.”
“Then I’d imagine that you know me very well,” England said. “I take it the ship’s landed? Would it be possible for me to leave?”
“Yes and yes,” the man said, still looking at him oddly. “I’m sorry, it just feels like I’ve met you somewhere before. Who are you exactly?”
“The anthropomorphic personification of England,” England said.
“Oh. Cool.” The man grinned. “Wanna get a drink later?”
“As wonderful an idea as alcohol seems right now, I suspect there are a number of people who would very much to talk with me as soon as possible,” England said. And I’d like to talk with them. “So if you could just clear a path to the exit…”
The man looked distinctly disappointed. “Your loss,” he said, and shanghaied a few of the less dazed-looking guards into clearing the route to the door. England slipped through it as unobtrusively as he could.
And then he was outside. He breathed his own air for the first time in months. Of course, the air then proceeded to fill up with camera flashes and microphones, as England suddenly remembered what the man had said about the press.
“Excuse me, sir, sir, do you-”
“Sir, are you part of-”
“Sir, can you tell us-”
“I don’t, I’m not, I can’t, and I’m not going to,” England said, as loud as he could be without actually yelling. He’d never liked the press. They always wanted to know things.
He managed to make his escape without being chased too far, and it was at that point that he remembered his mobile had been destroyed months ago (never, except it was, because it wasn’t there) and he wasn’t carrying any money for a payphone. Swearing not entirely under his breath, England rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he noticed the soldiers peering between the bars of the tall iron gate that led to the landing pad, and he tilted his head. Well. Why not.
He walked up to the gate and looked a man behind it directly in the eyes. “How much do you love your Queen?” he asked.
“Er, as much as the next person, I suppose,” the man said.
“If you lend me your mobile, I’ll put a good word in for you with her,” England said, holding out his hand.
The man blinked. A grin spread across his face. “Right on, mate,” he said, and fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulling out a phone and handing it over.
England took it, thanked him, moved out of earshot, and quickly punched in a set of numbers. It didn’t even make it to one ring before it was picked up.
“Hello? England, is that you? I swear to god this had better be you, I’ve been trying to call you since I saw the news but then the news went dead and it said your number was no longer in service and that is just bullshit because I know we get permanent plans for these things-”
“There’s a very long story behind that, and I am never going to tell you any of it, America,” England said, and he didn’t suddenly feel far more relaxed, he didn’t. “I’m assuming there’s going to be a meeting-at the very least, your suddenly-promoted new boss is going to want some answers, and probably the others will want to know what’s happening too, won’t they.”
“Man, most chaotic twenty minutes of my life, I swear, first it was Canada wanting to know if I was all right and then Japan saying his boss had authorized military support in case there turned out to be more of those Tocla-things and France saying he couldn’t get through to you either-you know, I think he actually sounded a little worried, there, I totally would have made fun of him for it except I had to keep trying to call you and you weren’t there-”
“America,” England said, “breathe.”
He could hear a sudden inhale through the mobile. He smiled, a little. But only a little.
“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes, there is going to be a meeting’,” England said. “I’m at the edge of the landing pad for the Valiant. Things are a bit…hectic here. Have a car sent. Where are you?”
“I’m at your house right now,” America said. “Well, outside it, obviously you’re not there to let me in, and it’s not like you ever gave me a key-yeah, I’ll grab a cab and be right over. And what do you mean you’re not going to tell me any of it?”
“I’ll see you soon, America,” England said, and ended the call. He walked back over to the man and gave him back his phone. “You’ve served your country well, soldier,” he said. “Now, if you could let me out…”
Once he was through the gates, England found a nearby wall and slid down it. He was exhausted, and he was home, and home wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d earned the right to rest for a few minutes, thank you. He drew up his legs and rested his hands between his knees. After a moment, he closed his eyes.
His country flowed beneath his skin, murmuring in soft, soothing tones. His government was in disarray, his people were confused, and he was going to have to make up answers for quite a lot of questions, but England almost didn’t care. There was always something going on, anyway; dealing with a presidential assassination and what he was probably going to term a prime ministerial suicide seemed like nothing compared to being able to feel his home again. Even wars, depression, and plague had never made him feel so starved for that most basic level of comfort.
The next time he had an election, England decided, he was damn well going to have UNIT run a background check.