Hard to Get - Chapter 4 - Help
Title: Hard to Get
Author: mystery_wings12 (published originally on fanfiction as mysterywings)
Rating: T
Warnings: Language
Summary: Historical fic, world-war-two era. America has joined the war, and offers Vietnam a helping hand. But perhaps the feisty colony is more prepared than he first thought.
January 1942
Vietnam's dragged a sleeve across her brow, a content breath escaping from her lips. Dark brown eyes scanned the neat rows of rice, and her chin nodded with proud approval. Another day's work accomplished. Have to be home before sunset.
"HEY VIETNAM!" A loud voice pierced her eardrums. Her long-sleeved arms spread out as she lost balance, and for a second she was flying. Then the water splashed up around her. In her lukewarm, liquid surroundings, she felt a larger hand clasp firmly onto hers. And suddenly she was pulled out and deposited on the road that ran beside the fields, where she gasped for breath.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh yes, I'm fine." The girl blinked water out of her eyes, and then double-taked at the person still gripping her hand. "America!" she exclaimed. "W-what are you doing here?"
The tall nation grinned and released her fingers. "Hey there," he said. "Nice to see you too."
It's surprising how many mixed emotions can clash behind a blank façade. Once brown eyes met blue, Vietnam had to admit she was pleasantly surprised. It was good to see him after so many months, after a rather abrupt parting. Yet there was a nasty shiver of envy at his fresh health and his lack of scars. Or, more accurately, lack of apparent scars. There was a rather young bruise on America's back, one that was still sore, but he wasn't going to talk about it-not to her.
"I'm sorry for such an rude greeting, America" said the uncomfortable girl, finally able to manage words through her shock. She tilted her head and expertly strained the moisture out of her hair. "It is good to see you," she confessed. "But, really, what brings you here?"
Eyebrows behind glasses rose in surprise. "Well you must've heard by now," America said. His smile faltered and shifted into something less cheery than it intended - an expression Vietnam never saw on his face before. Nevertheless, he proclaimed with his usual exuberance, "The US of A has joined the war! It was official, say, a couple months ago."
She had no idea. Another surprise in such little time. How did I not know this? Oh yes, she remembered bitterly, I'm a colony, and my owners enjoy keeping me in the dark. She was about to voice this, when America cocked his head to the side and grinned widely. "They'll be coming aaany moment now."
And soon she, too, heard a hum that likened to a swarm of wasps, which steadily increased into a full-on roar. She stumbled back in surprise as small planes from the horizon grew larger and larger until they passed over the two countries' upturned faces. The noses of the planes were richly decorated as the mouths of sharks. Duller-colored bombers trailed behind. America laughed and waved as the planes zipped by faster than they came.
"Pretty cool, huh?" he said, turning towards Vietnam.
She was wild-eyed. "Those are your planes? What are they doing?"
"They're flying to Hanoi, I think. To blow things up."
Vietnam's pupils visibly contracted. "What! What does this mean? Are we enemies now that I'm controlled by Japan?"
"Oh no, it's not like that at all!" America rushed to explain. "We're aiming straight for the buildings he built here, Viet. Nothin' else. Since you're technically part of his 'house' now, he'll probably feel a lot more of the damage than you will."
Vietnam instantly relaxed, and her eyes traced the lingering trails of smoke across the sky. Her bangs hung loosely around her face and streamed drops of water down her cheeks that sparkled in the last warm rays of the sun. Vietnam looked sideways at the man observing all of these details and smiled almost imperceptibly.
"Thank you for your help, America."
"Well, a hero's got to do what a hero's got to do!" the nation declared.
"Truly. I appreciate it. You're always welcome to stay at my house."
America smiled again and echoed the words he said the first time they met: "That'd be great."
Unfortunately, the sun was quickly descending…
Vietnam hurried to her house, quickly ushered America in, and started to close curtains.
"I assume you can't be seen by France or Japan?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the confused nation.
"Huh? Oh yeah, right. Those planes you saw were only volunteers of mine. I don't have official troops stationed here yet. So for now everything between us has to stay secret…"
She shot him a warning look, and Alfred realized what his words had accidentally implied, and he promptly shut himself up. God, she's kinda attractive when she's angry…
"Treat yourself to anything you might want to eat," Vietnam offered, as she threw on an evening jacket. "I need to go somewhere."
"Wait a second," America protested, stepping towards her. "I have to go wherever you're going!"
Solemnly, Vietnam said, "I'm sorry, but only I can go, America. It's personal business." She started to leave, only to pause at the door. "What do you mean 'I have to go wherever you're going'?"
"'Cause I want to! I'm here to save you, Viet, not just twiddle my thumbs in your house!"
The girl shook her head. "Don't risk anything for me, America. You fighting against Japan is the best thing I could be grateful for. I will be fine on my own."
"No!" America pouted.
The sky was darkening outside, and Vietnam was going to be late. Her temper spiked alarmingly. "What do you mean, no? I can take care of myself. Who do you think I am? A little girl desperate for help?"
"No, but you are a girl under Vichy's and Japan's rule" - he pointed to the collar around her neck - "and I think that's trouble!"
And suddenly Vietnam swore-because, as she peeked out of the glass pane in the door, she glimpsed trouble coming their way indeed.
"Of all the moments Vichy chooses to check on me!" she whispered with anger, quickly stepping away from the entrance.
"Shit, you mean he's here!?"
"Shh! Yes! He's coming up the path!" Vietnam scrutinized the nation who was not supposed to be seen in her house and thought quickly. "Fine," she grumbled, roughly grabbing America's hand, making him redden. "You're coming with me, then."
"Won't Vichy notice that you're gone? He won't be mad about that?" Alfred asked in a poor attempt at a whisper.
"If he doesn't believe the excuse I will make up, then he will probably punish me." Vietnam skimmed the room for necessities and grabbed her paddle that was leaning against the wall. "He can be such a dear that way. Now, let's get out of here quickly. No questions!"
She dashed out of her backdoor with America in tow, just as the demanding knock knock knock from Vichy's knuckles resonated from the front entrance.
The two ran for several minutes through villages, worn roads and even through a shallow rice paddie. America realized that Vietnam was taking a complex route to conceal him, which he was grateful for. The two, having run quite a long distance, even for a nation's standards, breathed heavily as they stopped at a scenic village at the foot of a steep mountain. Vietnam's fingers untangled themselves from America's moist palm and opened and closed as she scanned the oddly quiet village.
"Your hand is cooler than mine," the solemn girl pointed out, squinting through the dim twilight. "Is it true that a country's hand temperature depends on his climate?"
"Yeah, that's right!" America affirmed. The girl nodded in response. This was a pretty well-known fact among nations, but he couldn't imagine Vietnam having many hand-holding moments in her history, or wanting to, for that matter.
Her lips were a thin, serious line, and America opened his mouth to ask what they were there for in the first place.
Then she gestured America to follow and pushed through a congregation of trees. "Chào," America heard her say. He saw that she had reached the other side of the trees, and her hand was raised in greeting.
"I apologize for the tardiness. I brought a…guest," she introduced curtly, uncertain what to call the blue-eyed man bursting through the mass of tropical leaves.
A hundred black-haired heads turned to face the late arrivals.
Alfred waved at the curious gazes. "Chow, everyone! I'm Alfred F. Jones!"
"A Westerner?" a surprised voice whispered to Vietnam in Vietnamese.
"American," the girl confirmed.
There was a general hum of approval, which relieved Vietnam. A man with graying hair and beard stepped towards the two. "Chào, Kim, nice that you could make it. Though I am quite curious about this visitor…"
Vietnam leaned towards the shorter man's ear. "He is not an average man, Nguyen. He is the same as me. He has brought planes here today to fight Japan. He says he wants to help."
The man's deep-set eyes sparked in interest, and he regarded America in an entirely new light. "Amazing, my dear!" He bowed quickly to the towering American. "Welcome, Alfred!" he greeted in very correct English. "Pleased to have you here."
"Pleased to be here! But, uh…what's going on...Kim?" His sideways glance and sly grin signified that America enjoyed the excuse to call Vietnam by her human pseudonym. Oh great, she thought exasperatedly, and she quickly looked away before her cheeks could become too pink.
"Sorry for not telling you, but with Vichy literally at the door, there was little time to explain," Vietnam said. The girl straightened slightly with pride, and exchanged a smile with the aging man. "This is a meeting of the Việt Nam Ðộc Lập Ðồng Minh Hội. It is the league for our independence; this is the group's leader, Nguyen Ai Quoc. Though more recently he likes to be called Ho Chi Minh."
America looked at the crowd of many people, then at Vietnam as if he was seeing her for the first time. "Your own freedom fighters? That's amazing, Kim!"
Nguyen chuckled. "Have a seat, young man; you'll see that this is a very structured group of 'freedom fighters'."
"There are several subgroups within the organization," Kim explained to Alfred quietly as they took a seat towards the front of the group. "In previous years, none of the rebels could get along - but now every class and group is cooperating, and Nguyen's leadership is fantastic! I'm telling you, this man is going to do good for my people."
There she goes again, with that patriotic gleam in her eye… Alfred thought, his face suddenly feeling hot in the cool night air.
Nguyen stood on a raised platform, and all the members of the resistance stilled in attention. "Whether you're a worker, peasant, landlord or native bourgeoisie," the leader declared, "we are all working together, as one - and we will achieve our independence."
The meeting ended hours before dawn. America stuck around and watched Vietnam personally bid farewell to each attendee and wish them a safe, undetected journey home. At last, it was only the two countries and Ho.
"Very good meeting," the leader praised to Vietnam. "We're making excellent progress." He rubbed his eyes, tired yet satisfied, and then turned to America. "So. The United States."
"That's me, all right!"
"An honor, such an honor. I spent several years in your home. Such a free, free place. What did you think of all this?"
"I think it's absolutely amazing," said America without hesitation. Then, looking straight at Vietnam: "I can tell you really want this independence."
The girl quickly ducked her head. "It is all I want," she confessed quietly.
"Well, then I'm helping you get it," America replied with conviction.
Nguyen beamed. "America, I am obliged! The Viet Minh would be forever grateful for your aid!"
Vietnam, however, forgot how to breathe. "W-would you really do that for me?" she finally stuttered. "Th-that's too kind; it's not even your fight-"
"Of course I would! I said I would be your hero, didn't I?"
"America" - her eyes sparked and her voice was low and earnest - "This means so much to me. Thank you."
"It's no problem! Of course, it's no quick process to aid you; there's a lot I'll need to discuss with my officials. Say"-the American grinned at her-"wanna talk about all this over dinner?"
A/N:
I'm rather new at writing cliffhangers, and I must say that they're a joy to concoct. Haha, I'm terrible. :D
But really, I am. Look at the last time this was updated! ahhhhh! D:
Luckily, I actually know what is going to happen in the next chapter, so chap 5 should be published much sooner! ^_^
This needed a lot of editing (though not as much as the first chapter - pffft, can you believe I initially started writing this fic in the first person? orz) and I'm glad that (most of) it makes sense now! Onto the historical notes!
This is the shortest chapter of the fic so far, as it is the bridge from ***america is staying out of the war*** to ***OMG AMERICA IS INVOLVED, SHIT JUST GOT REAL AND NOW AMEVIET STUFF IS GONNA HAPPEN AHHH!***
Ahem. In early 1942, a American Volunteer Group led by General Chennault flew a bombing mission over Hanoi. 'Twas the first mission of the group (better known as the Flying Tigers) in Vietnam. Their planes were the shit. Search up P-40 Warhawk and thou will be overwhelmed. The mission is actually interesting because the "duller-colored bombers" mentioned were actually old Russian planes, but they were flown by the Chinese. :D
Vietnam's rebels (which everyone calls the Viet Minh because the official name is so long) was lead by "Ho Chi Minh"...yes...that one. The one that leads the Viet Cong about twenty years in the future of this time period. Yes, so so ironic. More details on the Viet Minh next chapter!
Feel free to leave a comment! I love feedback!
~mysterywings
Author: mystery_wings12 (published originally on fanfiction as mysterywings)
Rating: T
Warnings: Language
Summary: Historical fic, world-war-two era. America has joined the war, and offers Vietnam a helping hand. But perhaps the feisty colony is more prepared than he first thought.
January 1942
Vietnam's dragged a sleeve across her brow, a content breath escaping from her lips. Dark brown eyes scanned the neat rows of rice, and her chin nodded with proud approval. Another day's work accomplished. Have to be home before sunset.
"HEY VIETNAM!" A loud voice pierced her eardrums. Her long-sleeved arms spread out as she lost balance, and for a second she was flying. Then the water splashed up around her. In her lukewarm, liquid surroundings, she felt a larger hand clasp firmly onto hers. And suddenly she was pulled out and deposited on the road that ran beside the fields, where she gasped for breath.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh yes, I'm fine." The girl blinked water out of her eyes, and then double-taked at the person still gripping her hand. "America!" she exclaimed. "W-what are you doing here?"
The tall nation grinned and released her fingers. "Hey there," he said. "Nice to see you too."
It's surprising how many mixed emotions can clash behind a blank façade. Once brown eyes met blue, Vietnam had to admit she was pleasantly surprised. It was good to see him after so many months, after a rather abrupt parting. Yet there was a nasty shiver of envy at his fresh health and his lack of scars. Or, more accurately, lack of apparent scars. There was a rather young bruise on America's back, one that was still sore, but he wasn't going to talk about it-not to her.
"I'm sorry for such an rude greeting, America" said the uncomfortable girl, finally able to manage words through her shock. She tilted her head and expertly strained the moisture out of her hair. "It is good to see you," she confessed. "But, really, what brings you here?"
Eyebrows behind glasses rose in surprise. "Well you must've heard by now," America said. His smile faltered and shifted into something less cheery than it intended - an expression Vietnam never saw on his face before. Nevertheless, he proclaimed with his usual exuberance, "The US of A has joined the war! It was official, say, a couple months ago."
She had no idea. Another surprise in such little time. How did I not know this? Oh yes, she remembered bitterly, I'm a colony, and my owners enjoy keeping me in the dark. She was about to voice this, when America cocked his head to the side and grinned widely. "They'll be coming aaany moment now."
And soon she, too, heard a hum that likened to a swarm of wasps, which steadily increased into a full-on roar. She stumbled back in surprise as small planes from the horizon grew larger and larger until they passed over the two countries' upturned faces. The noses of the planes were richly decorated as the mouths of sharks. Duller-colored bombers trailed behind. America laughed and waved as the planes zipped by faster than they came.
"Pretty cool, huh?" he said, turning towards Vietnam.
She was wild-eyed. "Those are your planes? What are they doing?"
"They're flying to Hanoi, I think. To blow things up."
Vietnam's pupils visibly contracted. "What! What does this mean? Are we enemies now that I'm controlled by Japan?"
"Oh no, it's not like that at all!" America rushed to explain. "We're aiming straight for the buildings he built here, Viet. Nothin' else. Since you're technically part of his 'house' now, he'll probably feel a lot more of the damage than you will."
Vietnam instantly relaxed, and her eyes traced the lingering trails of smoke across the sky. Her bangs hung loosely around her face and streamed drops of water down her cheeks that sparkled in the last warm rays of the sun. Vietnam looked sideways at the man observing all of these details and smiled almost imperceptibly.
"Thank you for your help, America."
"Well, a hero's got to do what a hero's got to do!" the nation declared.
"Truly. I appreciate it. You're always welcome to stay at my house."
America smiled again and echoed the words he said the first time they met: "That'd be great."
Unfortunately, the sun was quickly descending…
Vietnam hurried to her house, quickly ushered America in, and started to close curtains.
"I assume you can't be seen by France or Japan?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the confused nation.
"Huh? Oh yeah, right. Those planes you saw were only volunteers of mine. I don't have official troops stationed here yet. So for now everything between us has to stay secret…"
She shot him a warning look, and Alfred realized what his words had accidentally implied, and he promptly shut himself up. God, she's kinda attractive when she's angry…
"Treat yourself to anything you might want to eat," Vietnam offered, as she threw on an evening jacket. "I need to go somewhere."
"Wait a second," America protested, stepping towards her. "I have to go wherever you're going!"
Solemnly, Vietnam said, "I'm sorry, but only I can go, America. It's personal business." She started to leave, only to pause at the door. "What do you mean 'I have to go wherever you're going'?"
"'Cause I want to! I'm here to save you, Viet, not just twiddle my thumbs in your house!"
The girl shook her head. "Don't risk anything for me, America. You fighting against Japan is the best thing I could be grateful for. I will be fine on my own."
"No!" America pouted.
The sky was darkening outside, and Vietnam was going to be late. Her temper spiked alarmingly. "What do you mean, no? I can take care of myself. Who do you think I am? A little girl desperate for help?"
"No, but you are a girl under Vichy's and Japan's rule" - he pointed to the collar around her neck - "and I think that's trouble!"
And suddenly Vietnam swore-because, as she peeked out of the glass pane in the door, she glimpsed trouble coming their way indeed.
"Of all the moments Vichy chooses to check on me!" she whispered with anger, quickly stepping away from the entrance.
"Shit, you mean he's here!?"
"Shh! Yes! He's coming up the path!" Vietnam scrutinized the nation who was not supposed to be seen in her house and thought quickly. "Fine," she grumbled, roughly grabbing America's hand, making him redden. "You're coming with me, then."
"Won't Vichy notice that you're gone? He won't be mad about that?" Alfred asked in a poor attempt at a whisper.
"If he doesn't believe the excuse I will make up, then he will probably punish me." Vietnam skimmed the room for necessities and grabbed her paddle that was leaning against the wall. "He can be such a dear that way. Now, let's get out of here quickly. No questions!"
She dashed out of her backdoor with America in tow, just as the demanding knock knock knock from Vichy's knuckles resonated from the front entrance.
The two ran for several minutes through villages, worn roads and even through a shallow rice paddie. America realized that Vietnam was taking a complex route to conceal him, which he was grateful for. The two, having run quite a long distance, even for a nation's standards, breathed heavily as they stopped at a scenic village at the foot of a steep mountain. Vietnam's fingers untangled themselves from America's moist palm and opened and closed as she scanned the oddly quiet village.
"Your hand is cooler than mine," the solemn girl pointed out, squinting through the dim twilight. "Is it true that a country's hand temperature depends on his climate?"
"Yeah, that's right!" America affirmed. The girl nodded in response. This was a pretty well-known fact among nations, but he couldn't imagine Vietnam having many hand-holding moments in her history, or wanting to, for that matter.
Her lips were a thin, serious line, and America opened his mouth to ask what they were there for in the first place.
Then she gestured America to follow and pushed through a congregation of trees. "Chào," America heard her say. He saw that she had reached the other side of the trees, and her hand was raised in greeting.
"I apologize for the tardiness. I brought a…guest," she introduced curtly, uncertain what to call the blue-eyed man bursting through the mass of tropical leaves.
A hundred black-haired heads turned to face the late arrivals.
Alfred waved at the curious gazes. "Chow, everyone! I'm Alfred F. Jones!"
"A Westerner?" a surprised voice whispered to Vietnam in Vietnamese.
"American," the girl confirmed.
There was a general hum of approval, which relieved Vietnam. A man with graying hair and beard stepped towards the two. "Chào, Kim, nice that you could make it. Though I am quite curious about this visitor…"
Vietnam leaned towards the shorter man's ear. "He is not an average man, Nguyen. He is the same as me. He has brought planes here today to fight Japan. He says he wants to help."
The man's deep-set eyes sparked in interest, and he regarded America in an entirely new light. "Amazing, my dear!" He bowed quickly to the towering American. "Welcome, Alfred!" he greeted in very correct English. "Pleased to have you here."
"Pleased to be here! But, uh…what's going on...Kim?" His sideways glance and sly grin signified that America enjoyed the excuse to call Vietnam by her human pseudonym. Oh great, she thought exasperatedly, and she quickly looked away before her cheeks could become too pink.
"Sorry for not telling you, but with Vichy literally at the door, there was little time to explain," Vietnam said. The girl straightened slightly with pride, and exchanged a smile with the aging man. "This is a meeting of the Việt Nam Ðộc Lập Ðồng Minh Hội. It is the league for our independence; this is the group's leader, Nguyen Ai Quoc. Though more recently he likes to be called Ho Chi Minh."
America looked at the crowd of many people, then at Vietnam as if he was seeing her for the first time. "Your own freedom fighters? That's amazing, Kim!"
Nguyen chuckled. "Have a seat, young man; you'll see that this is a very structured group of 'freedom fighters'."
"There are several subgroups within the organization," Kim explained to Alfred quietly as they took a seat towards the front of the group. "In previous years, none of the rebels could get along - but now every class and group is cooperating, and Nguyen's leadership is fantastic! I'm telling you, this man is going to do good for my people."
There she goes again, with that patriotic gleam in her eye… Alfred thought, his face suddenly feeling hot in the cool night air.
Nguyen stood on a raised platform, and all the members of the resistance stilled in attention. "Whether you're a worker, peasant, landlord or native bourgeoisie," the leader declared, "we are all working together, as one - and we will achieve our independence."
The meeting ended hours before dawn. America stuck around and watched Vietnam personally bid farewell to each attendee and wish them a safe, undetected journey home. At last, it was only the two countries and Ho.
"Very good meeting," the leader praised to Vietnam. "We're making excellent progress." He rubbed his eyes, tired yet satisfied, and then turned to America. "So. The United States."
"That's me, all right!"
"An honor, such an honor. I spent several years in your home. Such a free, free place. What did you think of all this?"
"I think it's absolutely amazing," said America without hesitation. Then, looking straight at Vietnam: "I can tell you really want this independence."
The girl quickly ducked her head. "It is all I want," she confessed quietly.
"Well, then I'm helping you get it," America replied with conviction.
Nguyen beamed. "America, I am obliged! The Viet Minh would be forever grateful for your aid!"
Vietnam, however, forgot how to breathe. "W-would you really do that for me?" she finally stuttered. "Th-that's too kind; it's not even your fight-"
"Of course I would! I said I would be your hero, didn't I?"
"America" - her eyes sparked and her voice was low and earnest - "This means so much to me. Thank you."
"It's no problem! Of course, it's no quick process to aid you; there's a lot I'll need to discuss with my officials. Say"-the American grinned at her-"wanna talk about all this over dinner?"
A/N:
I'm rather new at writing cliffhangers, and I must say that they're a joy to concoct. Haha, I'm terrible. :D
But really, I am. Look at the last time this was updated! ahhhhh! D:
Luckily, I actually know what is going to happen in the next chapter, so chap 5 should be published much sooner! ^_^
This needed a lot of editing (though not as much as the first chapter - pffft, can you believe I initially started writing this fic in the first person? orz) and I'm glad that (most of) it makes sense now! Onto the historical notes!
This is the shortest chapter of the fic so far, as it is the bridge from ***america is staying out of the war*** to ***OMG AMERICA IS INVOLVED, SHIT JUST GOT REAL AND NOW AMEVIET STUFF IS GONNA HAPPEN AHHH!***
Ahem. In early 1942, a American Volunteer Group led by General Chennault flew a bombing mission over Hanoi. 'Twas the first mission of the group (better known as the Flying Tigers) in Vietnam. Their planes were the shit. Search up P-40 Warhawk and thou will be overwhelmed. The mission is actually interesting because the "duller-colored bombers" mentioned were actually old Russian planes, but they were flown by the Chinese. :D
Vietnam's rebels (which everyone calls the Viet Minh because the official name is so long) was lead by "Ho Chi Minh"...yes...that one. The one that leads the Viet Cong about twenty years in the future of this time period. Yes, so so ironic. More details on the Viet Minh next chapter!
Feel free to leave a comment! I love feedback!
~mysterywings