[Fanfic] Peace of Mind 5/?
Title: Peace of Mind 5/?
Author: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s) in this chapter: America, Canada, England, China, Russia, Hungary US/UK, mentions of others, will include most characters at some point.
Rating: PG
Warnings: An attempt at a Serious Sailor Moon fusion fill! And in this chapter violence...Also a de-anon from the kink meme...
Summary: Alfred's life on the Moon is unspeakably boring, but an unknown threat on the rise gives him his much desired break of boredom, and so much more.
Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Whatever is happening the temperature has taken a dramatic peak, and as the world starts to speed up and slow down somewhere in the back of America’s mind she is thankful for the skimpy outfit, because it’s getting unbearably hot.
America instinctively crouches and covers her head, because something is exploding behind her and she really doesn’t have the time to think about the proper procedures. When the explosion seems to be finished she opens an eye and angles her head to look at whatever’s behind her.
It’s another monster thing - that she is sure of - but this one is very different from the last. This one is a blazing inferno. It seems to have some sort of shape - maybe humanoid - but the fire that is engulfing it is so strong that it’s impossible to make out for sure. The flames lick and blaze and curl in around one another and make it difficult to focus on.
It occurs to America that fighting fire with fire is her only option, and it doesn’t sound like a good one at all.
The monster roars, and it's something horrible - a screeching rumbling sound that makes America’s ears hurt just listening to it. America would cover her ears, but the monster flings a fire ball in her direction, so she has to move, and move now. She does get away from it in a mad ungraceful spurt of movement, but the minute it makes contact with the area she was just in the thing explodes and America is sent flying and tumbling away from the impact.
She collides with a large tree, and something in her mind tells her that her back is going to hurt - but it doesn’t, so it’s good for now and she doesn’t question. She blinks for a second to realize that another fire ball is headed straight towards her. America has just enough time to scramble away so that the thing doesn’t hit her, but is thrown again. She tumbles through grass this time. It’s a better option than running into a tree, but it’s still not ideal. The grass is starting to catch fire and she can feel the temperature rising as each blade of grass starts to burn around her.
This time America doesn’t try to take a breather and recollect herself. She knows another fire ball is coming soon, so she stumbles up and sprints towards the monster. She has to get closer, unlike the monster with the vines there is no way for her flames to reach this thing, so she has to close the distance.
She dodges to the right; a fire ball blasts past her and explodes somewhere behind. America doesn’t let that stop her - keeps going - moving and weaving around potential attacks.
She’s almost there, knows that she’ll be there soon and hopes that she’ll be able to destroy it in one fell swoop like she did with the other. But the closer she is the harder it is to dodge, and the more fire balls that are thrown, the more areas that are engulfed in flames. The temperature is spiking quickly and it’s getting harder to breathe, her lungs heave against her ribs at every breath and it’s becoming increasingly hard to keep moving.
But she’s almost there, and America will be damned if she fails here; she doesn’t have a choice; has to get there.
Not this time, it would seem. She weaves to dodge another fire ball, but something catches her foot and she plummets. America lands hard on her side, and that buzzing in the back of her head that should alert her to pain goes off again, but there’s no such feeling. America stumbles to her feet but they aren’t moving as quickly as they should and something - it’s a fire ball on split second inspection - is sailing towards her at break neck speed. There’s no way she’s going to dodge it.
America imagines that she looks much like a fish, a horrified, soon to be fried, gaping fish.
She has just enough time to think ‘fuck’ before strong arms are around her and she’s suddenly not in the same place any more. America blinks and she’s on a tall building looking down on the carnage. No movement involved; no being whisked away or running for her life or anything of the sort. She even notices that from a distance away the fire ball that was aimed towards her just seconds ago explodes some where she isn’t. Just one moment she’s there and the next she’s on a building being held bridal style by someone.
That’s another thing to consider; she looks up and is met by a kind, exceptionally handsome face, brown hair and green eyes. There's a mask of some sort covering a good portion of his face, but she can see a lot. It strikes America that if this was England as a male, then ya, she might be a little attracted to him, cause this man should be in a magazine somewhere taking off his clothes for money. But he isn’t obviously, he’s holding her in his muscular arms and smiling down at her, and it almost seems feminine, though it could be the little flower in his hair, or the fact that his hair is a little longer than most men's. As much as she likes this guy something tells her it isn’t England, the hair is the wrong shade, and the eyes somehow are just not right.
The man reaches down with a gloved hand and places one finger on her mouth. Only now realizing that she was gaping America snaps it shut and can’t fight down the blush that seeps into her cheeks. The man seems to chuckle a little at that before bringing America’s ear close to his lips.
“England will need time, can you distract it?” His voice is husky and hot on America’s ear and she really just wants to squirm out of his hold and blame how hot she is on the fires raging down below them. Instead she offers a jerky sort of nod, stealing another glance at his eyes. They’re green alright, but they aren’t England’s, she’s sure of it this time. She fights down her blush. The man laughs softly at her again and gingerly sets America down on her own two feet.
It's strange really, how gentle this man handles her in comparison to how England handled her the last time they met. The thought that surfaces about how it would be nice if England treated her this way is murdered on the spot.
It's only after that rather unsavory thought that America realizes that the man is speaking to her, albeit very softly.
“All you have to do is run. I’ll make sure you aren’t hit. Just keep dodging, like you were before. You don’t even have to get close to it, just make sure it keeps track of you.”
America offers a muttered ‘ok’ though she still feels ridged all over. She’s about to attempt to get down off of the building as best she can when the man circles his hand in the air and some sort of dark circular opening appears.
The man offers her a smile and a wink. “Come on, gotta be the hero and protect the princess, right?” Something flashes in the man’s green eyes that they both recognize, and for a moment America is stunned speechless. But those eyes shine and sparkle and America squares her shoulders in response and nods.
She enters the portal thing at a run.
---
Matthew, as he does every morning, is taking the polar bear for a walk. Cause even invisible polar bears that no one else can see still need to be taken for walks. Else the thing will get impatient and unhappy and start clawing and trying to get out of the house and the last time that happened it made his mother quite concerned that there was an overgrown cat loose in the house.
On the bright side, at the time it made Matthew feel like he wasn’t completely crazy. But today, as most days are, isn’t one of those days where he’s feeling entirely sane. Today is rather strange. First of all, Alfred hasn’t assaulted him in some way for his pictures of England back. Matthew has been on edge since the day before, expecting to be jumped at any time by a stalkerish smile and greasy fingers. But no such event had occurred. Matthew had left class the previous day to find Alfred’s bag abandoned by the side of the school and when he had come home he had found that Alfred wasn’t there.
Somehow Alfred had made it home without anyone taking notice, and that evening when their mother was about to call the authorities - because her precious favorite son would never be irresponsible and just not come home - Matthew had checked his room one more time to see Alfred fast asleep.
So that was strange. And today - their one day of the week off - Alfred was up at 6 AM playing one of the games he didn’t even like. Granted it was one of Matthew’s favorites - and last he had thought it had been in his room - but that was not the point. Matthew had stormed in without even thinking that his brother would want his pictures back. The strangest thing was that Alfred hadn’t even asked about them. Had just given him kaleidoscope eyes before Matthew lost his patience and left the room.
So that had left Matthew unnecessarily on edge this morning.
It’s fair to say that Matthew is a worrier. He does fret over just about everything, but a decent amount of his concerns stem from his far too idiotic brother. Alfred isn’t the bane of his existence -not by a long shot - but has probably shaved a few years off his life regardless.
The thought makes Matthew bristle. He’s the older sibling here; he should be tormenting Alfred and making his life miserable, not the other way around. Not to mention that Matthew has more important things to worry about, like school, his failing social life, the possibility of being a raving lunatic in a world of psychological anomalies and the huge fire flinging monster thing that seems to have materialized out of nowhere and is currently assaulting the park.
Matthew blinks a few times as he takes in the chaos in front of him. He quickly turns around and walks away. Looks like today isn’t going to be one of those ‘sane’ days after all…
---
Going through the portal thing places America on solid ground again. It surprises her, and for a few seconds she pauses to take in her surroundings. It doesn’t come as any sort of surprise that the fire monster thing is within her immediate vicinity. What does surprise her is the fact that England is dashing around and distracting the monster. It feels like déjà vu all over again, and the scene of England being smashed against a light post as she had watched helpless on the sidelines plays on repeat inside America’s head. It makes her feel insignificant, useless and very unheroic.
Not today. While the monster is occupied with England, America allows the fire in her veins to fester and boil. She replays the words that England gave her in their last encounter, about concentrating on the strength inside of her. She takes a deep breath, circulates her energies, and forces the coiling strength out of her hand. It doesn’t seem like much at first, just a fist sized flame, but as the energy starts to stop flowing America does everything she can to just sustain it, and then to shove more energy into the attack.
But once America starts to place more power into the attack it goes haywire. The energy rushes out of her in great untamable waves and the small fire in her hands becomes an inferno that’s easily twice her size. The power of it scares her; America instantly stops the flow of energy and the flame flickers and dies faster than an ice cube in the height of summer.
Upon looking back at it, America thinks to herself that she wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to accomplish. But the monster's eyes are on her now, England the least of its worries, and that’s good at least. Or it is for the few seconds that America has to think before a fire ball is barreling towards her. Then it’s a flurry of movements, the brain telling the feet to move, move, move! And the feet somehow stumbling into awareness as America sprints around the monster in an attempt to dodge and to still keep its attention.
Things are blowing up into flames around her, but all of America’s attention is on running and dodging and getting away but not too far away. She has to trust that the man was telling the truth when he said that he’d keep her safe, so she just runs and dodges what gets to close, occasionally directing her eyes at the thing just to make sure that it’s still interested in her.
America doesn’t spot England, which is probably a good thing. She can only assume that England is somewhere preparing for a final strike of sorts. Or at least that’s what America hopes is happening.
Its only when things start to get darker does America understand what exactly she’s been waiting for. Within moments of realizing whats to happen, it starts to rain. It starts off as a light drizzle, something that is obviously a precursor to what is about to come. And when it starts to grow in magnitude it isn’t like any rain that America has ever experienced. This rain is violent and brutal, and the power inside of her fizzles and screams, it wants out and America has to fight tooth and nail with her instincts to keep it contained. It feels like the rain should be hurting her, with how the power coursing through her veins is reacting she should be in some sort of danger, but fear and pain don’t register. So America concentrates with all her will and takes cover under a tree that was previously on fire.
The monster shrieks as the majority of the rain beats down on top of it, smothering all warmth from its shrinking flames. The noise makes America want to vomit, and only then does she realize how tired she is. Her brain is screaming that her legs hurt and that her back hurts and that her ankle hurts, and there is a lot of physical exhaustion that just takes hold and won’t let go. She leans against the tree and slowly sinks down, plopping down onto the ground with a small thud as the monster continues to screech and whale.
The rain is doing more than just vanquishing the monster, all of the surrounding fires are pacified as well, and once they’re out the water pulls itself from the ground and rushes to encircle the monster. The beast in question is thrashing, and more and more water evaporates at every swipe it makes but there is simply too much of it. The monster is weakening and its flames are making a sickening hissing sound and dying.
Within two minutes the whole ordeal is over, the monster is snuffed out by the rain and the water disperses as the rain comes to a soft halt. When all is done America is soaked and the entire park that was once in flames now looks heavily singed, but also that it has been graced with a heavy coat of morning dew.
America stumbles to her feet and looks around. When she finally spots England and the other man standing not so far away a bright smile dons her face and she starts making her way over to them.
She has taken four steps when alarm bells ring in her ears. America has just enough time to realize that something is wrong before the earth around her comes to life, encircles her entirely and her world turns to black.
---
“You have found him, yes?” Ivan’s voice is not what Yao wants to hear, but it would have been useless to refuse the call.
“No, it has not moved. If it had I would have found it. It is safe to say that it has not left Mercury.” Yao does not stop the brush at any utterance, but keeps the brush and its black ink evenly spread and at a consistent pace.
He can see the shake of Ivan’s head, even though they are billions of miles apart, and does nothing to stop it.
“If you are sure, Yao. But I remember him; always a creative and ingenious sort of character. If anyone can best you, it will be him.”
Yao doesn’t huff or get upset. Ivan often runs his mouth and underestimates what he is capable of. It's just a part of who Ivan is that Yao will never be able to change. Ivan is wrong and it will be his privilege to prove it, as Yao always does.
“The man you speak of is long dead, as well as the person he became. It is not a man that we seek, and it is certainly not worth the concern you are lavishing it.”
The silence that fills the airwaves is some sort of a comfort. The fact that Ivan doesn’t know how to respond somehow makes everything right with the universe.
“Good-bye, Ivan.” Without letting the other man respond Yao slowly brings his brush to a stop, places the brush down and taps the small button on the phone. Ivan will not call back for a while. Yao thinks on all of the things he will do without him, places the sheet of paper to dry, and cleans up. He no longer has any desire to reminisce. It’s a waste of time.
---
America had never once thought she was even the slightest bit claustrophobic. Not in all of her life had she considered it, but as she felt herself being buried alive, she suddenly felt her entire being filled with absolute terror.
One moment she was on her way to England and the other male and the next she was swallowed up by a mound of earth easily twice her size. And now here she was, encased in a tomb of earth and soil. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she was in utter darkness, and she knew she was going to die.
She thought of all those stupid horror movies where people were buried alive, only to claw and scream in vain as they suffocated and struggled to their last breath. She thought of how useless her life had been so far, how she hadn’t accomplished anything - nothing at all. But more than anything, more than the terror and panic America remembered a song; a lullaby that someone had sung to her in the middle of the night when the thunder and rain and snow had pounded on windows and frightened her. The voice of a soft tenor that had stayed with her all night and hadn’t let the boogie man eat her. Had kept every scary dream or wayward shadow at bay; someone dear to her that had cared and had eased her worries. A person she would never see again if she died here.
Knowing more of herself than before, the world exploded into flames.
---
England does not allow herself to panic as America is swallowed whole. Her heart beat quickens and her breath halts but she refuses to think of her reaction as panic. The ground itself had risen from its dormant state and devoured America in one giant gulp. England did not panic; she was far to composed, thinking to rationally for this to be panic, but she did rush forward.
She doesn’t realize how quickly she is moving, how frantic she must look, but when the earth gives way once more and opens its gaping mouth to take her as well, England is only saved by the strong grip of her companion as he pulls her away from its gaping chasm.
“Careful, you’ll do America no good if you are also buried.” The man beside her states softly in her ear, but England does not hear it. Surely America cannot breath, she has to get to the younger woman, and it must be fast. The image of America, Alfred as a lifeless corpse is too much for her to comprehend. She only had seconds before America is gone forever, she has to get to her, no matter the cost.
She tears herself free from her companion's grip and vaults forward once again, summoning water in an attempt to soften the soil where America once stood. England is moving, almost able to reach where America had been, but is again grabbed. It is a much rougher hold this time, and she is yanked backwards to crash into her companion’s torso.
“England, get a hold of yourself. This is America, she will be fine. We have other problems to deal with.” This time there is a hand on her wrist and the other is secured around her middle, but England is not to be deterred. She rips her arm from the man’s grip with a snarl and elbows him in the gut before dashing forward.
This time she is not stopped by him. All England can think of is America. America gradually losing breath, America going cold, Alfred being scared and alone, and that motivates her forward as the earth starts to rise up and reach for her. But England is on auto-pilot, she’s been doing this long enough to dodge such a slow and lumbering opponent as ground and soil. She channels energy into her legs and feet and at every attempt the ground makes to reach her she simply increased her pace. But after a few seconds it no longer tries to capture her. Instead the form of attack changes, and great raged spikes shoot up from the ground, often missing her by a few inches.
After a few seconds -- an eternity -- England has made it to where America had once stood. She shoves her energy forward, calling on all of the excess water in the area and plunging it all into the ground, softening the soil. Within second she is on her hands and knees digging and reaching out with her energy at the same time. She has to find America, has to, because that idiot has to still be there. She can’t have died yet.
As her powers reaches deeper and deeper, stretches and strains, England finally finds her. Relief overflows her system at the rapid pulsing she feels from America deep under the grounds surface.
It is short lived as a boot connects with England’s gut, and the impact of it sends her flying. She tumbles but quickly recovers from the assault, a snarl evident on her face. But once she has caught sight of who has delivered the blow the anger melts into surprise and shock.
England knows the young girl instantly; a blond with long flowing hair, deep violet eyes, and an outfit very similar to her own. Surprise and confusion flutter into England’s mind, but she has no time for hesitation.
With one stamp of the girl’s foot England can feel the energy coursing through the earth harden, petrify, and force out all of the moisture and all signs of life. The action single-handedly seals America’s fate; England can no longer reach her, and she is out of time. America’s energy and radiance fade in front of England’s eyes and the utter loss that over takes her mind mingles with the rage taking hold and all England can see is red.
“Hungary, water.” At the small utterance a dark portal opens to England’s right. For half a second all is silent; then with a wave of England’s hand great torrents of water shoot through the portal with their aim placed solely on the young blonde.
England envisions the fear in the young girl’s eyes and revels in it. The young girl tries to shield herself from it, summoning the ground to protect her but it is a futile effort. There is easily tons and tons of water flooding the area, and all of it gushes forward, completely overtaking the young blond.
England watches as the girl struggles; the water cutting off her air, and the muddy ground around her struggling to keep her safe. It is a losing battle. After a few moments the young girl goes under, and England’s eyes gleamed as the water pulls her down. England can feel the water as it shoves its way down the young girl’s throat, cuts off her screams, enters her lungs, forces her to stop her futile murmurs.
England is too lost in the hunt to notice as the earth itself starts to quake and shift. She doesn’t detect any difference till the earth splits itself and a great pillar of fire and magma forces its way through. The flames lick and steam and evaporate her water as the energy around England hisses and screams. England falters; stumbling backwards even though the flames are nowhere near her physical form she can feel it eating away at the massive amounts of energy she is using to control the tons upon tons of water that have filled the area.
Then, just as suddenly as the fire had erupted, it is gone, leaving America in its wake.
America plummets forward into the water, unconscious, and sinks. At the sight the spell is broken. England’s face splits into that of terror. With every ounce of her strength she forces the water back into the portal as quickly as she can. By the time she is done Hungary is already by the two young blondes. Both lay motionless on the ground, but England is rooted to her spot, too afraid to get any closer.
Both of the young blondes look far too pale, deathly white, and it doesn’t look like either are breathing. If they are dead it is her fault, entirely her fault.
Hesitantly, England takes a step, and then another until she is close enough to see that neither are breathing. Hungary is on top of the long haired one attempting CPR, but England motions for him to stop. With a wave of her hand, the young girl's body lurches, and from her mouth water flows out. Hungary continues her previous ministrations and England moves her attention to America, doing the same thing.
After a few moments England can once again feel energy flowing within the two. The energy is weak, but it is there; a sure sign of life; at that Hungary and England collapse onto the ground, heaving and achy with fatigue.
A few moments later find Hungary still spent on the ground and England threading her fingers through Alfred’s hair, her eyes occupied with the long haired blond, who has yet to transform back.
“How do you suppose she’s still a nation?”
Hungary huffs and slowly forces himself into a sitting position. He looks at the long haired blonde for a few moments before he reaches for the young blonde's neck. Hungary pulls, and a long leather cord tied around the young girls neck presented itself, a glowing yellow stone attached to it.
“This is the culprit.” With one tug the lather cord snaps, and the young girl morphs into Alfred’s mirror image. Both sets of green eyes lock with the yellow stone as its soft glow fades, till it simply looks to be a normal stone.
“This is the reason he did not recognize us; didn’t recognize you, or even Alfred.” Hungary states softly, holding the item out for England to inspect. Hesitantly she reaches her hand forward, but at the last moment thinks better of it and retrieved her hand. “He would have wanted you to have it. I won’t touch it.”
“How do you think he came to own this? It’s true, they are drawn to us, but this is the first time I’ve seen one.” Hungary continues, obviously avoiding England’s previous statement. His eyes never leave the stone, a very sad tint playing across them.
“Matthew must have defeated him. It’s the only explanation for why he would attack us.”
Hungary nods, her eyes never leaving the stone. “I think so, too. We need to explain to them what they’ve gotten into. I know you didn’t want this for them, but they don’t have a choice any more. I don’t want to lose anyone else, and it will kill you if they die because of our neglect.”
England hums to herself softly before turning to Hungary again. “Think you’ve enough to get us somewhere safe?” It takes a few moments before Hungary nods softly.
“So, my place it is.”
Thank you for reading, I hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, violetzewriter, who did a wonderful job on this chapter. Comments are lovely, thank you for your time.
Author: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s) in this chapter: America, Canada, England, China, Russia, Hungary US/UK, mentions of others, will include most characters at some point.
Rating: PG
Warnings: An attempt at a Serious Sailor Moon fusion fill! And in this chapter violence...Also a de-anon from the kink meme...
Summary: Alfred's life on the Moon is unspeakably boring, but an unknown threat on the rise gives him his much desired break of boredom, and so much more.
Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Whatever is happening the temperature has taken a dramatic peak, and as the world starts to speed up and slow down somewhere in the back of America’s mind she is thankful for the skimpy outfit, because it’s getting unbearably hot.
America instinctively crouches and covers her head, because something is exploding behind her and she really doesn’t have the time to think about the proper procedures. When the explosion seems to be finished she opens an eye and angles her head to look at whatever’s behind her.
It’s another monster thing - that she is sure of - but this one is very different from the last. This one is a blazing inferno. It seems to have some sort of shape - maybe humanoid - but the fire that is engulfing it is so strong that it’s impossible to make out for sure. The flames lick and blaze and curl in around one another and make it difficult to focus on.
It occurs to America that fighting fire with fire is her only option, and it doesn’t sound like a good one at all.
The monster roars, and it's something horrible - a screeching rumbling sound that makes America’s ears hurt just listening to it. America would cover her ears, but the monster flings a fire ball in her direction, so she has to move, and move now. She does get away from it in a mad ungraceful spurt of movement, but the minute it makes contact with the area she was just in the thing explodes and America is sent flying and tumbling away from the impact.
She collides with a large tree, and something in her mind tells her that her back is going to hurt - but it doesn’t, so it’s good for now and she doesn’t question. She blinks for a second to realize that another fire ball is headed straight towards her. America has just enough time to scramble away so that the thing doesn’t hit her, but is thrown again. She tumbles through grass this time. It’s a better option than running into a tree, but it’s still not ideal. The grass is starting to catch fire and she can feel the temperature rising as each blade of grass starts to burn around her.
This time America doesn’t try to take a breather and recollect herself. She knows another fire ball is coming soon, so she stumbles up and sprints towards the monster. She has to get closer, unlike the monster with the vines there is no way for her flames to reach this thing, so she has to close the distance.
She dodges to the right; a fire ball blasts past her and explodes somewhere behind. America doesn’t let that stop her - keeps going - moving and weaving around potential attacks.
She’s almost there, knows that she’ll be there soon and hopes that she’ll be able to destroy it in one fell swoop like she did with the other. But the closer she is the harder it is to dodge, and the more fire balls that are thrown, the more areas that are engulfed in flames. The temperature is spiking quickly and it’s getting harder to breathe, her lungs heave against her ribs at every breath and it’s becoming increasingly hard to keep moving.
But she’s almost there, and America will be damned if she fails here; she doesn’t have a choice; has to get there.
Not this time, it would seem. She weaves to dodge another fire ball, but something catches her foot and she plummets. America lands hard on her side, and that buzzing in the back of her head that should alert her to pain goes off again, but there’s no such feeling. America stumbles to her feet but they aren’t moving as quickly as they should and something - it’s a fire ball on split second inspection - is sailing towards her at break neck speed. There’s no way she’s going to dodge it.
America imagines that she looks much like a fish, a horrified, soon to be fried, gaping fish.
She has just enough time to think ‘fuck’ before strong arms are around her and she’s suddenly not in the same place any more. America blinks and she’s on a tall building looking down on the carnage. No movement involved; no being whisked away or running for her life or anything of the sort. She even notices that from a distance away the fire ball that was aimed towards her just seconds ago explodes some where she isn’t. Just one moment she’s there and the next she’s on a building being held bridal style by someone.
That’s another thing to consider; she looks up and is met by a kind, exceptionally handsome face, brown hair and green eyes. There's a mask of some sort covering a good portion of his face, but she can see a lot. It strikes America that if this was England as a male, then ya, she might be a little attracted to him, cause this man should be in a magazine somewhere taking off his clothes for money. But he isn’t obviously, he’s holding her in his muscular arms and smiling down at her, and it almost seems feminine, though it could be the little flower in his hair, or the fact that his hair is a little longer than most men's. As much as she likes this guy something tells her it isn’t England, the hair is the wrong shade, and the eyes somehow are just not right.
The man reaches down with a gloved hand and places one finger on her mouth. Only now realizing that she was gaping America snaps it shut and can’t fight down the blush that seeps into her cheeks. The man seems to chuckle a little at that before bringing America’s ear close to his lips.
“England will need time, can you distract it?” His voice is husky and hot on America’s ear and she really just wants to squirm out of his hold and blame how hot she is on the fires raging down below them. Instead she offers a jerky sort of nod, stealing another glance at his eyes. They’re green alright, but they aren’t England’s, she’s sure of it this time. She fights down her blush. The man laughs softly at her again and gingerly sets America down on her own two feet.
It's strange really, how gentle this man handles her in comparison to how England handled her the last time they met. The thought that surfaces about how it would be nice if England treated her this way is murdered on the spot.
It's only after that rather unsavory thought that America realizes that the man is speaking to her, albeit very softly.
“All you have to do is run. I’ll make sure you aren’t hit. Just keep dodging, like you were before. You don’t even have to get close to it, just make sure it keeps track of you.”
America offers a muttered ‘ok’ though she still feels ridged all over. She’s about to attempt to get down off of the building as best she can when the man circles his hand in the air and some sort of dark circular opening appears.
The man offers her a smile and a wink. “Come on, gotta be the hero and protect the princess, right?” Something flashes in the man’s green eyes that they both recognize, and for a moment America is stunned speechless. But those eyes shine and sparkle and America squares her shoulders in response and nods.
She enters the portal thing at a run.
---
Matthew, as he does every morning, is taking the polar bear for a walk. Cause even invisible polar bears that no one else can see still need to be taken for walks. Else the thing will get impatient and unhappy and start clawing and trying to get out of the house and the last time that happened it made his mother quite concerned that there was an overgrown cat loose in the house.
On the bright side, at the time it made Matthew feel like he wasn’t completely crazy. But today, as most days are, isn’t one of those days where he’s feeling entirely sane. Today is rather strange. First of all, Alfred hasn’t assaulted him in some way for his pictures of England back. Matthew has been on edge since the day before, expecting to be jumped at any time by a stalkerish smile and greasy fingers. But no such event had occurred. Matthew had left class the previous day to find Alfred’s bag abandoned by the side of the school and when he had come home he had found that Alfred wasn’t there.
Somehow Alfred had made it home without anyone taking notice, and that evening when their mother was about to call the authorities - because her precious favorite son would never be irresponsible and just not come home - Matthew had checked his room one more time to see Alfred fast asleep.
So that was strange. And today - their one day of the week off - Alfred was up at 6 AM playing one of the games he didn’t even like. Granted it was one of Matthew’s favorites - and last he had thought it had been in his room - but that was not the point. Matthew had stormed in without even thinking that his brother would want his pictures back. The strangest thing was that Alfred hadn’t even asked about them. Had just given him kaleidoscope eyes before Matthew lost his patience and left the room.
So that had left Matthew unnecessarily on edge this morning.
It’s fair to say that Matthew is a worrier. He does fret over just about everything, but a decent amount of his concerns stem from his far too idiotic brother. Alfred isn’t the bane of his existence -not by a long shot - but has probably shaved a few years off his life regardless.
The thought makes Matthew bristle. He’s the older sibling here; he should be tormenting Alfred and making his life miserable, not the other way around. Not to mention that Matthew has more important things to worry about, like school, his failing social life, the possibility of being a raving lunatic in a world of psychological anomalies and the huge fire flinging monster thing that seems to have materialized out of nowhere and is currently assaulting the park.
Matthew blinks a few times as he takes in the chaos in front of him. He quickly turns around and walks away. Looks like today isn’t going to be one of those ‘sane’ days after all…
---
Going through the portal thing places America on solid ground again. It surprises her, and for a few seconds she pauses to take in her surroundings. It doesn’t come as any sort of surprise that the fire monster thing is within her immediate vicinity. What does surprise her is the fact that England is dashing around and distracting the monster. It feels like déjà vu all over again, and the scene of England being smashed against a light post as she had watched helpless on the sidelines plays on repeat inside America’s head. It makes her feel insignificant, useless and very unheroic.
Not today. While the monster is occupied with England, America allows the fire in her veins to fester and boil. She replays the words that England gave her in their last encounter, about concentrating on the strength inside of her. She takes a deep breath, circulates her energies, and forces the coiling strength out of her hand. It doesn’t seem like much at first, just a fist sized flame, but as the energy starts to stop flowing America does everything she can to just sustain it, and then to shove more energy into the attack.
But once America starts to place more power into the attack it goes haywire. The energy rushes out of her in great untamable waves and the small fire in her hands becomes an inferno that’s easily twice her size. The power of it scares her; America instantly stops the flow of energy and the flame flickers and dies faster than an ice cube in the height of summer.
Upon looking back at it, America thinks to herself that she wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to accomplish. But the monster's eyes are on her now, England the least of its worries, and that’s good at least. Or it is for the few seconds that America has to think before a fire ball is barreling towards her. Then it’s a flurry of movements, the brain telling the feet to move, move, move! And the feet somehow stumbling into awareness as America sprints around the monster in an attempt to dodge and to still keep its attention.
Things are blowing up into flames around her, but all of America’s attention is on running and dodging and getting away but not too far away. She has to trust that the man was telling the truth when he said that he’d keep her safe, so she just runs and dodges what gets to close, occasionally directing her eyes at the thing just to make sure that it’s still interested in her.
America doesn’t spot England, which is probably a good thing. She can only assume that England is somewhere preparing for a final strike of sorts. Or at least that’s what America hopes is happening.
Its only when things start to get darker does America understand what exactly she’s been waiting for. Within moments of realizing whats to happen, it starts to rain. It starts off as a light drizzle, something that is obviously a precursor to what is about to come. And when it starts to grow in magnitude it isn’t like any rain that America has ever experienced. This rain is violent and brutal, and the power inside of her fizzles and screams, it wants out and America has to fight tooth and nail with her instincts to keep it contained. It feels like the rain should be hurting her, with how the power coursing through her veins is reacting she should be in some sort of danger, but fear and pain don’t register. So America concentrates with all her will and takes cover under a tree that was previously on fire.
The monster shrieks as the majority of the rain beats down on top of it, smothering all warmth from its shrinking flames. The noise makes America want to vomit, and only then does she realize how tired she is. Her brain is screaming that her legs hurt and that her back hurts and that her ankle hurts, and there is a lot of physical exhaustion that just takes hold and won’t let go. She leans against the tree and slowly sinks down, plopping down onto the ground with a small thud as the monster continues to screech and whale.
The rain is doing more than just vanquishing the monster, all of the surrounding fires are pacified as well, and once they’re out the water pulls itself from the ground and rushes to encircle the monster. The beast in question is thrashing, and more and more water evaporates at every swipe it makes but there is simply too much of it. The monster is weakening and its flames are making a sickening hissing sound and dying.
Within two minutes the whole ordeal is over, the monster is snuffed out by the rain and the water disperses as the rain comes to a soft halt. When all is done America is soaked and the entire park that was once in flames now looks heavily singed, but also that it has been graced with a heavy coat of morning dew.
America stumbles to her feet and looks around. When she finally spots England and the other man standing not so far away a bright smile dons her face and she starts making her way over to them.
She has taken four steps when alarm bells ring in her ears. America has just enough time to realize that something is wrong before the earth around her comes to life, encircles her entirely and her world turns to black.
---
“You have found him, yes?” Ivan’s voice is not what Yao wants to hear, but it would have been useless to refuse the call.
“No, it has not moved. If it had I would have found it. It is safe to say that it has not left Mercury.” Yao does not stop the brush at any utterance, but keeps the brush and its black ink evenly spread and at a consistent pace.
He can see the shake of Ivan’s head, even though they are billions of miles apart, and does nothing to stop it.
“If you are sure, Yao. But I remember him; always a creative and ingenious sort of character. If anyone can best you, it will be him.”
Yao doesn’t huff or get upset. Ivan often runs his mouth and underestimates what he is capable of. It's just a part of who Ivan is that Yao will never be able to change. Ivan is wrong and it will be his privilege to prove it, as Yao always does.
“The man you speak of is long dead, as well as the person he became. It is not a man that we seek, and it is certainly not worth the concern you are lavishing it.”
The silence that fills the airwaves is some sort of a comfort. The fact that Ivan doesn’t know how to respond somehow makes everything right with the universe.
“Good-bye, Ivan.” Without letting the other man respond Yao slowly brings his brush to a stop, places the brush down and taps the small button on the phone. Ivan will not call back for a while. Yao thinks on all of the things he will do without him, places the sheet of paper to dry, and cleans up. He no longer has any desire to reminisce. It’s a waste of time.
---
America had never once thought she was even the slightest bit claustrophobic. Not in all of her life had she considered it, but as she felt herself being buried alive, she suddenly felt her entire being filled with absolute terror.
One moment she was on her way to England and the other male and the next she was swallowed up by a mound of earth easily twice her size. And now here she was, encased in a tomb of earth and soil. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she was in utter darkness, and she knew she was going to die.
She thought of all those stupid horror movies where people were buried alive, only to claw and scream in vain as they suffocated and struggled to their last breath. She thought of how useless her life had been so far, how she hadn’t accomplished anything - nothing at all. But more than anything, more than the terror and panic America remembered a song; a lullaby that someone had sung to her in the middle of the night when the thunder and rain and snow had pounded on windows and frightened her. The voice of a soft tenor that had stayed with her all night and hadn’t let the boogie man eat her. Had kept every scary dream or wayward shadow at bay; someone dear to her that had cared and had eased her worries. A person she would never see again if she died here.
Knowing more of herself than before, the world exploded into flames.
---
England does not allow herself to panic as America is swallowed whole. Her heart beat quickens and her breath halts but she refuses to think of her reaction as panic. The ground itself had risen from its dormant state and devoured America in one giant gulp. England did not panic; she was far to composed, thinking to rationally for this to be panic, but she did rush forward.
She doesn’t realize how quickly she is moving, how frantic she must look, but when the earth gives way once more and opens its gaping mouth to take her as well, England is only saved by the strong grip of her companion as he pulls her away from its gaping chasm.
“Careful, you’ll do America no good if you are also buried.” The man beside her states softly in her ear, but England does not hear it. Surely America cannot breath, she has to get to the younger woman, and it must be fast. The image of America, Alfred as a lifeless corpse is too much for her to comprehend. She only had seconds before America is gone forever, she has to get to her, no matter the cost.
She tears herself free from her companion's grip and vaults forward once again, summoning water in an attempt to soften the soil where America once stood. England is moving, almost able to reach where America had been, but is again grabbed. It is a much rougher hold this time, and she is yanked backwards to crash into her companion’s torso.
“England, get a hold of yourself. This is America, she will be fine. We have other problems to deal with.” This time there is a hand on her wrist and the other is secured around her middle, but England is not to be deterred. She rips her arm from the man’s grip with a snarl and elbows him in the gut before dashing forward.
This time she is not stopped by him. All England can think of is America. America gradually losing breath, America going cold, Alfred being scared and alone, and that motivates her forward as the earth starts to rise up and reach for her. But England is on auto-pilot, she’s been doing this long enough to dodge such a slow and lumbering opponent as ground and soil. She channels energy into her legs and feet and at every attempt the ground makes to reach her she simply increased her pace. But after a few seconds it no longer tries to capture her. Instead the form of attack changes, and great raged spikes shoot up from the ground, often missing her by a few inches.
After a few seconds -- an eternity -- England has made it to where America had once stood. She shoves her energy forward, calling on all of the excess water in the area and plunging it all into the ground, softening the soil. Within second she is on her hands and knees digging and reaching out with her energy at the same time. She has to find America, has to, because that idiot has to still be there. She can’t have died yet.
As her powers reaches deeper and deeper, stretches and strains, England finally finds her. Relief overflows her system at the rapid pulsing she feels from America deep under the grounds surface.
It is short lived as a boot connects with England’s gut, and the impact of it sends her flying. She tumbles but quickly recovers from the assault, a snarl evident on her face. But once she has caught sight of who has delivered the blow the anger melts into surprise and shock.
England knows the young girl instantly; a blond with long flowing hair, deep violet eyes, and an outfit very similar to her own. Surprise and confusion flutter into England’s mind, but she has no time for hesitation.
With one stamp of the girl’s foot England can feel the energy coursing through the earth harden, petrify, and force out all of the moisture and all signs of life. The action single-handedly seals America’s fate; England can no longer reach her, and she is out of time. America’s energy and radiance fade in front of England’s eyes and the utter loss that over takes her mind mingles with the rage taking hold and all England can see is red.
“Hungary, water.” At the small utterance a dark portal opens to England’s right. For half a second all is silent; then with a wave of England’s hand great torrents of water shoot through the portal with their aim placed solely on the young blonde.
England envisions the fear in the young girl’s eyes and revels in it. The young girl tries to shield herself from it, summoning the ground to protect her but it is a futile effort. There is easily tons and tons of water flooding the area, and all of it gushes forward, completely overtaking the young blond.
England watches as the girl struggles; the water cutting off her air, and the muddy ground around her struggling to keep her safe. It is a losing battle. After a few moments the young girl goes under, and England’s eyes gleamed as the water pulls her down. England can feel the water as it shoves its way down the young girl’s throat, cuts off her screams, enters her lungs, forces her to stop her futile murmurs.
England is too lost in the hunt to notice as the earth itself starts to quake and shift. She doesn’t detect any difference till the earth splits itself and a great pillar of fire and magma forces its way through. The flames lick and steam and evaporate her water as the energy around England hisses and screams. England falters; stumbling backwards even though the flames are nowhere near her physical form she can feel it eating away at the massive amounts of energy she is using to control the tons upon tons of water that have filled the area.
Then, just as suddenly as the fire had erupted, it is gone, leaving America in its wake.
America plummets forward into the water, unconscious, and sinks. At the sight the spell is broken. England’s face splits into that of terror. With every ounce of her strength she forces the water back into the portal as quickly as she can. By the time she is done Hungary is already by the two young blondes. Both lay motionless on the ground, but England is rooted to her spot, too afraid to get any closer.
Both of the young blondes look far too pale, deathly white, and it doesn’t look like either are breathing. If they are dead it is her fault, entirely her fault.
Hesitantly, England takes a step, and then another until she is close enough to see that neither are breathing. Hungary is on top of the long haired one attempting CPR, but England motions for him to stop. With a wave of her hand, the young girl's body lurches, and from her mouth water flows out. Hungary continues her previous ministrations and England moves her attention to America, doing the same thing.
After a few moments England can once again feel energy flowing within the two. The energy is weak, but it is there; a sure sign of life; at that Hungary and England collapse onto the ground, heaving and achy with fatigue.
A few moments later find Hungary still spent on the ground and England threading her fingers through Alfred’s hair, her eyes occupied with the long haired blond, who has yet to transform back.
“How do you suppose she’s still a nation?”
Hungary huffs and slowly forces himself into a sitting position. He looks at the long haired blonde for a few moments before he reaches for the young blonde's neck. Hungary pulls, and a long leather cord tied around the young girls neck presented itself, a glowing yellow stone attached to it.
“This is the culprit.” With one tug the lather cord snaps, and the young girl morphs into Alfred’s mirror image. Both sets of green eyes lock with the yellow stone as its soft glow fades, till it simply looks to be a normal stone.
“This is the reason he did not recognize us; didn’t recognize you, or even Alfred.” Hungary states softly, holding the item out for England to inspect. Hesitantly she reaches her hand forward, but at the last moment thinks better of it and retrieved her hand. “He would have wanted you to have it. I won’t touch it.”
“How do you think he came to own this? It’s true, they are drawn to us, but this is the first time I’ve seen one.” Hungary continues, obviously avoiding England’s previous statement. His eyes never leave the stone, a very sad tint playing across them.
“Matthew must have defeated him. It’s the only explanation for why he would attack us.”
Hungary nods, her eyes never leaving the stone. “I think so, too. We need to explain to them what they’ve gotten into. I know you didn’t want this for them, but they don’t have a choice any more. I don’t want to lose anyone else, and it will kill you if they die because of our neglect.”
England hums to herself softly before turning to Hungary again. “Think you’ve enough to get us somewhere safe?” It takes a few moments before Hungary nods softly.
“So, my place it is.”
Thank you for reading, I hope that you enjoyed it. Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, violetzewriter, who did a wonderful job on this chapter. Comments are lovely, thank you for your time.