[FANFIC] Lucid Memories 9/20
Title: Lucid Memories
Author/Artist: Rain_Sonata
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America/England/America or US/UK/US
Rating: PG-13, might raise up later
Warnings: boy love, occassional swearing, confusion of what's happening, longer chapters later on, hints of the existence of state-tans
Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War?
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( Link to Previous Chapters )
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Lucid Memories
Chapter 9: Red
*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers.
*Older America is US; younger is referred to as America. Both are called Alfred.
Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I have no witty comments to add. Don't expect any.
*past*
When England opened his eyes, he found a person's face right in front of him. Their noses were nearly touching each other. One sudden movement and they would probably slam their heads against the other. The stranger had porcupine hair that stuck up in odd angles. His glassy eyes stared back at the British man.
"Alfred!" England growled. "What the hell are you doing?" What on Earth did the boy think he was doing? Showing up at the worse time of the day Decided to come rub England's lost, did he? Why…
"Alfred?" US pretended to be confused; he ignored the sudden sprint of his trembling heart.
"I should have taught you some manners," The Englishman complained to himself. "Walking into my quarters without asking for permission."
England thought that he was America. The empire's eyes were darting around the room; he never looked at Alfred in the eye.
"England…" US tried to convince him. "I'm not Alfred." He stared at England. Was his former mentor usually this cranky in the morning?
"Sure you aren't." England flipped him off. "And I'm not the British Empire." It was odd to see the English nation display such a vulgar gesture. Then again, England carried a strange combination of both the characteristics of a gentleman and a punk. God knows that else the man did in his long lifetime.
"England," Alfred tried to remain calm. He took England's hand. "You shouldn't be doing that with your hand." He struggled to rearrange England's hand position; the Brit was surprisingly stubborn. I must not panic, US told himself. If he panicked, he would give away his cover to the older nation.
"And why not?" England asked, pulling his hand away from US's reach. He was not in a pleasant mood.
"Because," US patiently told him. "I'm not Alfred."
"Alfred."
"It's Andrew." Alfred attempted to correct him. "Look at me, England." US ordered.
"No!" The Brit resisted.
"Listen to me." US forced England's head to face the American. "I'm not Alfred." The American whispered. "I'm Andrew. Andrew." Alfred was a good liar when he wanted to be.
The Brit's clover green eyes blinked. "Andrew?" He looked at the intruder. Alfred was forcing England's head while the Englishman had his hand gripping on the collarbone of US's shirt.
"Oh." England sighed. The empire's hand was still stiffly holding onto Alfred's collar. "Johnson."
"Glad you're still sane." US bit his lips. That was awfully close. Too close.
"I'm not mad." England told him. He was not insane! Was US angry at him?
"Sure you are," US replied as he gently pushed the British man away from him. Defeated, England released his grip on US. Alfred seemed untouched by the fact that England had attempted to choke and suffocate him.
"I'm not!" It wasn't England's fault that Alfred and Johnson looked so much alike! It was quite unnerving! From the oval shape head to their body structure, their broad shoulders, Alfred and Johnson looked like they could be brothers. It seemed so unlikely for a father to have a son that nearly looked identical. The chances of that to happen in real life were rare and unlikely.
"Oh, but you can't help that," Alfred said. He wore a poker face as he recited an infamous quote from one of Arthur's fictional novels. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I am mad?" England fumed.
"You must be," said the American, "Or you wouldn't have tried to choke me."
England rolled his eyes at Alfred's strange replies. The empire didn't think that proved it at all. Their conversation was getting silly. Alfred gave a small huff. He hastily fixed the collar of his shirt. Seeing the American fuss over clothes was strange when he had never decided to comb his hair.
Alfred quickly went back to business. "If you don't want to get left behind, start packing up." He told the English nation. "The closest town is about an hour or two away. The villagers might be able to direct us to the shortest path to the nearest harbor town."
England glared at US. "Just let me wash my face first." England walked out of US's sight. The older nation needed to find a stream…
"This is the village?" England whispered
"Looks like it." US whispered back. Why were they whispering?
"Let's just get the bloody supplies and be on our way." England mumbled as his body turned to the direction of one of the shops.
US added. "We need to talk to the villagers."
"Do they know anything?" The English man was already sweating thinking of the possibly attacks he may receive from the unhappy Americans.
"This is their land." Alfred tried to explain. "They know it better than you do."
US might as well add 'you redcoats'. It was no secret that one of the reasons why England may have lost against the newborn nation was because the British empire was not familiar with the land. Skills and experience could only take you so far when you are not familiar with your surroundings. The Americans fought like those barbaric savages (6) and have won their war.
"It won't take long." Alfred told England. He took England by the hand. "I'll come with you." England could not find any words to say. He awkwardly accepted US's hand and allowed the American to lead him into the humble village.
Below a small hill was the village. The small settlement was built near a small forest that was still standing. The village was still standing and was lucky to have not been attacked during the revolution. Small humble houses were lined up in a row, weeds grew out of random cracks in the ground, and shops with colorful signs were displayed in no apparent order.
"Johnson." England grew impatient. "You can let go of my hand now." The American was still holding the Brit' hand. US's hands had a tough texture; they smelled of dirt and oil.
Only some of the men from the army had gone with them to enter into the village. The rest were to stay at a shelter where none of the villagers could see them. England thought it would be risky to allow any of the British soldiers to walk into the settlement, so in the end, England was the only British man in the group. It made England paranoid to think of what would happen if any harm were to come to his soldiers because of their foolishness.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" US asked England. He originally asked his former guardian to come with him out of loneliness and because England was his own kind. The American man enjoyed talking to his own citizens, but he didn't always have the chance to talk to England. Being with England brought some comfort to him and even a little sense of safety. England was stronger than he looked.
"We're already here," The older nation reasoned. "There's no need to turn back now." He couldn't tell the younger nation that the great empire's heart was beating in panic and worry. How long has it been since the last time he has stepped into one of America's towns without being trailed with blood and violence? It was hard to say when.
"I see." US nudged England. "Let's go."
"No need to drag me." The Brit grumpily replied. US just beamed at him.
After arguing with the American of what to buy, "No Johnson, we do not need two tons of beef. We can hunt for our own food." The two men winded up buying a small supply of bullets, blankets, and candle lights.
"Don't buy all of them, Johnson," England reminded the other nation. "We only need these for a few days. Don't use them all up. US forgot that conservation was a big deal in the older times. He was too used of being dependent on extra consumption of almost anything, really.
"Johnson?" The Brit looked to the side when he didn't hear US's response. Where was the idiot? England searched around the small general store for the blond man.
"Are you going to pay for that?" England turned to see the speaker, who was a short stocky man who looked to have been in his early forties. He must be the owner of the store.
"Of course." England flatly answered the man's question. "How much will this be?" He gestured to the items he had in his arms.
"That would be six dollars." The short American shortly replied.
England searched through his knapsack for the proper money. He handed over the coins to the store owner. "Is this enough?"
The English man did not realize that the beefy man was overpricing him. The actually value he had paid was twice the amount he needed to. The stocky man counted over the coins England had handed over. England waited for the man's acceptance of the money. After a few minutes, the man's eyes narrowed. He looked up at England. The British nation was easily a head taller than he was.
"Wait a minute…" The storeowner uttered to himself as he glared at England. "This is not enough. This is not money!" He roared. He pounded his fist against the hard wooden desk he was sitting at.
England stared at the round man. Not enough? Poppycock! He gave the man the proper amount didn't he?
"This is not money!" The storeowner grinded his crooked teeth at the British nation; his teeth were black from not brushing his teeth (7). "This is just a hunk of metal! What are you trying with me? Trying to cheat with me, are you boy?" He flung the coins at England. Some of the coins bounced off of England's head, scattering across the damp oak floor. England didn't notice or care when some of the beggars started to scramble for the loose change when they realized that the Brit would not pick up the coins.
The fat man picked up some of the coins and shoved it in England's face. "Does this look like money to you?" They were a mix of English and Massachusetts coins (8). The pieces of metal shone brightly gold and silver.
England's face remained unfathomable. He did not flinch when the older man's grubby digits that were nearly poking his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"You better be!" The man huffed. "What are you redcoats doing in the village anyway? Huh? Haven't you had enough of attacking us?"
"We mean no harm." England coldly replied. "The war is over."
"That's what they all say," The storeowner bitterly replied.
"It is over." The English nation insisted. "We just need supplies to return to England."
"Look, lobster," The man kneed over the table. "We need to survive too. You don't have money."
"I do have money!" England snapped. "Can you not just simply take it?"
"Sorry, no can do." The owner didn't look sorry at all.
"Hey, Arthur!" US came from behind.
"Johnson," England has never been so glad to see the young nation.
"Any luck?" The American young man asked. "I asked some of the ladies back there and they gave me a nice map to the next harbor town!" He waves his hands towards the back of the room. A few of the village women giggled in reply. England groaned. Don't tell me he's a lady's man… Was the American part French or something?
"England?" US stared at the shorter nation. "Is something wrong?" He looked at the glaring owner that was sitting between them.
"I was not able to pay for our supplies." England admitted. "I do not have the correct money." His shoulders slightly slouched.
"Really?" US cocked his head to the side. He went over to the storeowner. Alfred slugged his heavy bag to the counter and took out a money bag. He dumped the bag's contents to show to the owner. "Will this be enough?"
The storeowner's eyes were fixed on the coins that were pouring out. He quickly nodded his head. He saw Alfred's blue uniform and instantly recognized him as a fellow American. "Is this a prisoner of yours?" The owner pointed to England as if the nation was a wild beast.
Alfred frowned. "No. He's with me." US stuffed all of the supplied into his bags.
The storeowner scrutinized England. "But he's the enemy!"
Alfred shook his head. "No. He's a friend."
"The war is over." US gently explained to the man as if he was speaking to a small child.
"Really now?" The owner was shocked. His eyes were slightly wet. "That's good." He seemed to have forgotten about the incident between him and the British nation.
"Was there a quarrel between you two?" Alfred asked as he looked back and forth at England and the storeowner.
"O-of course not!" The man looked alarmed at US's questions.
"Good." US looked strangely like Russia when he gave the storeowner a creepy childish smile. Black mist seemed to have been floating around the young nation. If looks could kill, the storeowner would have been in his deathbed by now. England almost thought that the American nation would kill the man on the spot with that furious expression.
The owner seemed to have picked up the uninviting aura from US and excused himself.
"Excuse me," The old man stood up. "I must go tell Susan. She will be pleased." He left the counter table to find his wife.
England only gazed lazily at the rude man.
"Thanks for covering me." England thanked US.
"Didn't I tell you?" US returned back to his sunshine smile. "We're friends."
"I guess we are." England quietly admitted.
The two nations have purchased their necessities and were walking towards the shelter where their fellow soldiers were resting. US easily carried all of the bags, which may have weighed more than a normal human being could manage. The young man was so strong. It was enough to lower one's self-esteem.
"Where is the next route?" The English nation asked as they passed by several townspeople.
"The town is east from here. We should be fine for a few more days." US looked to the side. He too seemed to have notice the gawking villagers.
They were being watched. England felt their eyes trace through him to the core of his soul. His once clean uniform was no longer the bright scarlet color it was before, but the attire still stuck out of the crowd of American soldiers like a sore thumb. He could have easily played the part of a prisoner of war. England moved closer to US's side, towards the center of the crowd.
"Hey!"
England kept walking forward.
"Hey!"
Was someone calling after him?
A person tapped hardly on England's back. He looked behind his shoulder. It was a boy. The child had curly red hair with dark hazel eyes staring from behind a tuff of bangs. He must be Scottish.
The child growled. "Hey! Didn't I call you?" His voice was surprising dark and menacing. It didn't fit him.
"I suppose you did." England said. "Is something the matter?"
The boy ignored him. "What do you think you're doing in our village? How many babies are you planning to kill tonight?" He sarcastically mocked the Brit. He flung a rough edged stone at England.
England did not feel the need to start a fight against a weaker person. The English soldier did not bother to dodge the boy's attack. The rock scratched against his right shoulder blade and a sharp pang reached through his nervous cells. England mindlessly traced his index finger in the spot where the rock had inflicted him; he stared at the red sticky substance covering his finger. England was surprised to see blood tickling out. Did the boy hit him that hard?
"I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused for you." He felt like he was apologizing to the whole nation when he talking to the child.
The boy spitted out, "Don't say sorry to me! Say sorry to them too!" He pointed to the group of boys behind him. When have they come? Where have they come from? Was England that unaware of his surroundings? He was being to lose his edge. All of them looked to be about in the late preteens. Many of them wore big clothes that looked like they have yet to grow into them.
England was confused. "What did I do?" He didn't remember ever meeting any of them before. He never remembered entering this village at all!
"Don't act dumb!" One of the children shouted. "My dad's in war because of you!" The child clawed his thick fingernails into England's flesh. England flinched from the pain. The child's nails were quite sharp.
"So was mine!" Another cried. The other children were beginning to close in; they began to gather around England. None of the villagers have decided to stop the fight.
Wait, did they know what he was? England's was shaken by their accusation.
"They killed my baby!" A housewife pointed at England from the back of the gather crowd. England heard a chorus of agreements with the children and an orchestra of similar cries.
"It's because of those Brits that my big brother is dead!" This time, it was the redhead who was accusing the English nation. This time, he decided to kick England in the groin. The nation cried in pain. The little bugger could sure kick. England fell down to his knees.
"I'm sorry." England apologized. "I'm sorry." He wasn't too sure who he was saying sorry to anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm sorryI'-"
"ARTHUR?" Someone was fighting their way through the thick crowd. "ARTHUR!" England felt the person push his way in. The stranger's thick arms bend around England's waist. Alfred? Or was it Johnson? Their voices sound the same too.
Alfred is gone, a small voice reminded the British man. England closed his eyes. He didn't want to see more.
"Arthur!" US hugged England. He smelt the young man's cool breath. Peppermint?
"Stop bullying him!" He heard the American yell at the crowd. "Is this how you treat your guests?" There was lots of whispering from the crowd.
"He's a redcoat!" Someone shouted.
"What are you, a Tory?" A woman sneered at them.
Alfred calmly replied. "I am not a Tory. I am just a mere American soldier passing by." England slowly opened his eyes. US gave a cold look to the villagers. The American soldier had no mercy of those who dare harm his loved ones.
"Liar!" England heard one of the villagers shriek.
"Listen to me!" US demanded. "Listen to my words!"
"I can't believe they let traitors like you are allowed to enroll into the army!"
Alfred stiffly told them. "I am not a traitor."
"I don't believe you."
"How do we know if that is a fact?"
"It's true!" Everyone looked toward the new speaker. It was the storeowner from earlier.
The wide man turned plume red when the crowd stared at him. He attempted to cough as an excuse to destroy the sudden silence from the villagers. His statement was clearly unusual and unexpected. "The war is over."
"What? That's impossible!" An elderly woman exclaimed.
"Really?" A pregnant woman was surprised. "We won?"
"We won." US quietly stated.
"So we did win the war." They were in awe.
"God was on our side." Someone confidently declared.
"They are just passing by. Let them go." The storeowner commanded. England suddenly felt his feelings change about the storeowner from before. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.
At first, the crowd didn't move. Many stuck around in hopes of seeing more action. Eventually, the whole village was back into their daily routines and chores. It was over. There was nothing more to see. In less than ten minutes, the village was back into its peaceful atmosphere, as if nothing had happened at all. The only person that was still with England was the redheaded boy, who was still glaring at him with dislike.
"Well?" US raised his eyebrow at the child. "Any words you would like to say?" He was waiting for a proper apology.
The boy broke out in squeaks and clutters of unintelligent murmurs.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear that the first time." Alfred's face was still kind with patience.
"I said 'm sorry!" The child angrily spitted out the words.
"See?" US patted the boy on the head. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He didn't notice the child's glower.
Alfred turned to England. "We need to get to the campsite. You need to get bandaged."
"It's not that bad." England rubbed the sore spot. "It's just a little bit of blood." It could have been worse. He thought of the one time when that young man 'accidently' poured tea all over his arm. The older nation had dealt with worse from America's people before.
"Either way, we need to return to the site." US told him. "Can you stand up?" US asked his former brother.
The English nation reluctantly stood up; his legs felt weak and wobbly when he got on his two feet. "I can manage." He hoarsely replied.
"Let me help you." Alfred supported England's arm.
"Thank you, Alfred." England whispered.
"I told you." US repeated once more. "I'm not Alfred."
"Johnson…" England cried.
"It's okay, England." Alfred told him; he carefully helped the Brit stand up. "You don't have to suffer anymore."
England closed his eyes.
^flashback^
"America!" His voice called out. "Supper is ready!"
A small ball of yellow jumped at the man. "England!" The child hugged his guardian. "The food is done?" He happily looked up at England.
England smiled, "It's ready. I know you have been missed my cooking, so I decided to make the meals for today. You like me cooking, right?"
America stopped hugging his brother to stare at the small bowl of soup before him; he poked the unknown contents with the edge of his spoon. He wore a concern look on his childish face.
England noticed Alfred's forlorn expression. "Is there something wrong, Alfred?" Did the boy hurt himself in the woods? The nation told him not to wonder off to far from the house!
"Have you seen George?" America asked.
"America?" England was worried. Who was George?
"George has gone missing!" America cried. "Have you seen him?"
"George?" England repeated.
"England?" Alfred's voice cracked. "Where's George?"
The Brit stared at the dinner already made. He didn't look at America.
"England?" America's voice grew unstable. "England!" He dropped his bowl on the floor.
The child cried.
^end flashback^
*past*
"This tastes good!" US exclaimed as he happily ate his meal.
England didn't say anything in response.
"England, are you sure you're alright?" The American once again asked the empire. He checked the Englishman's pulse to see if the older nation was all right. Was England panicking?
"Johnson, I'm in good health." England insisted for the umpteenth time. "It's just a little bit of blood."
US looked at him skeptically. "A little bit of blood." The American tried to ask him again. "England, you should rest."
"I'm fine!" The Brit told him. "Let me be! Honestly."
"If you say so," Alfred never let the man out of his sight.
"I'm glad you liked your meal." England tried to smile for the sake of the blond. "It's been awhile since I cooked for someone besides myself." US caught the man's eyes looking at the distance.
"You cooked this?" Alfred asked. It has only been a few weeks since he got to eat any of England's food.
"Do you like it?" England asked. "It was a little bit hard to catch the bugger though. They hop so quickly…" The England man went on.
Hop? The American's mind froze. Alfred frowned. He started to feel uncomfortable; his throat suddenly felt dry.
"I…" US suddenly felt wary; memories begin to afloat. The voices were as clear as a church bell.
Do you like my food?
England? Is it what delicious taste like?
O-of course it's delicious! What else would it be?
Oh, I see. So this is delicious!
England!
America…
"Johnson?" England knocked the man out of his flashbacks. "Are you sick?"
"England," US cautiously approached the Brit. "What am I eating?" He stared at the meat he had in his hand. He stared at the fat that was tickling down the light meat. Alfred felt like he was going to throw up.
"Johnson?" England stared. "You don't recognize what this is?" Surely…
"I…" Alfred groaned. What was this nauseous feeling he had in his stomach? US suddenly felt like he was feasting on a corpse of a dead person.
Don't tell me… US's thoughts couldn't complete the idea.
"This is rabbit." The English told him. He watched the American's eyes widen in horror.
"Rabbit?" US asked himself. The younger nation's face turned into a sickly shade of green.
"Johnson?" England looked at him. "You're not fond of rabbit?" The empire felt goose bumps arise on his skin.
"I'm sorry," US apologized. "Can you excuse me for a moment?" His cheeks were now bulging out from the overwhelming pressure of throwing up something. The American soldier excused himself to the side of the campsite. England heard the young man vomit out the food in the distance.
^flashback^
"I hate you, England!" The boy cried as he slammed the bowl onto the floor. "I hate you!"
"America!" England called back. "Don't act like a child! Don't throw your food like that!"
"How could you do this to me?" America gushed out tears. "How could you do this to me? I thought you know!"
"America…" England felt the guilt. "I thought you said you liked my cooking. Didn't you?"
The boy grinded his teeth. "I lied." America spitted out the words. He stared at the cracked bowl on the floor. He was disgusted. He felt sick.
What? England thought. "What?"
"I don't like you food." Alfred whispered. "I never liked your food." He watched his brother's face go into shock. "I was lying."
"Please," England begged. "This isn't what it looks like."
Alfred ignored his guardian's begging and tried to tone down his anger by a small degree. "I only pretended to like your food."
He tried to lower his temper, but found no success. "Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry England. I hate your cooking."
The colony stared at the bubbling stew England was serving. The soup was a sickly color. "You forgot that I don't eat rabbit."
The boy turned around to hide his tears.
^end flashback^
England stared at the American man who had disappeared awhile ago. The goose bumps refused to settle down back into his skin.
Alfred?
"I'm sorry for my rudeness." US apologized again. "My body has never reacted that well with certain meat."
"No need to say sorry." England told him. "You're not the only person I know who does not eat rabbit."
"For my insolence," The young nation said. "I'll cook the next meal for us."
"There's no need to do that." England told US. "It is not your fault for what happened earlier."
"Please." Alfred insisted. "Please. I only want to make us even." England turned away. Alfred didn't like to eat rabbit either. Alfred? Is that you? England wondered.
"England," The American was quick to switch to a new topic. England was sad that as soon as they were away from human company, the American switched to referring to him as England again. "I'm going to go change my clothes."
"I can wait," England replied. "Take your time." He watched US run to the tent to go change.
England stared at the night sky. It was getting dark again and the bright flawless moon was shining in the sky like a pale porcelain platter. It was a magical night. Small white clouds wondered aimlessly in the night sky, resting in dreamland without a single worry in sight. Fireflies pranced around the peaceful field in a synchronized formation, reminding the Brit of his fairy friends that inhabited his home in England. The owls wisely hooted to another in their own language, whispering a few secrets to those who would stop to listen. The nightingale chicks chirped in imitation to their parents, trying to learn the gentle song that their parents and their parents' parents have passed on for several generations to come. Several moon flowers blossomed underneath the moonlight, opening to the unseeing eyes of the heavens.
The British man stopped looking at the sky to gaze at his bandages. That's right! England realized. He needed to go to the tents to change one of his bandages. It wasn't a wound from the village, but it was one from one of the battles he had fought earlier. England rushed to tents ahead of him.
Alfred stared at his scars. Small lines were slashed all over his body, marking each line with a line crust of jagged skin and black dry blood. The only thing that was protecting the wound from the forces of nature was a sole piece of cloth wrapped around the area of his body that was damaged. All nations have had their fair share of blood and violence, but for a young nation, US seemed to have more than he should have. He was only several centuries years old, but was not as old as the other nations, such as England.
The American traced his finger on his back; his body was like the map of America's history. The scar he felt was from the American Civil War. The Battle of Gettysburg. 1863. On his chest was a small burn from the burning of the original White House during the War of 1812 against Mattie. On his arm was the Battle of Saratoga. 1777. The blond felt the lines tattooed to his skin, connecting in an eerie formation. Many of his old ones were still there.
Alfred found himself focused on that one wound, the gash on his side from 1783. That scar. That wound that was caused by one of England's men. He was shot in the side by one of the redcoats. How could he have not seen it coming? Back then, the American had been waiting for the hit. He knew that it would eventually come. For some reason, when he went back in time, the scar began to reform itself back into its bloody state. Was it because he was in the past again? If so, than why didn't the other scars disappeared too? Alfred thought back about the marking. It was not England's fault, US realized. He was sure that England did not see it coming himself, because the shock on the Brit's face was the last thing the American saw before he fell to the ground. Alfred could almost hear his former guardian curse at the soldier for his insolence.
The 1783 wound was still healing. When the American nation was shot, the medic made sure to remove the bullet as a top priority. US still remembered the burning pressure of the bullet pierce through his skin like a dart tearing through a sheet of tissue. It was brief, but the pain did not go away, even several days after US took the damage. A normal man would have died from the shot. Alfred however, was not a normal man. He was anything but that. He was a nation. A strong one at that. Even by the standards of his own kind, US was quite strong on his own. He had after all, have learned to manage himself when he lived in isolation (4). US's tissues were still merging together at slow pace. The wound looked like one of Jupiter's spots. It was big and red; there were remnants of skin crusting around the circle, trying its best to piece the American's wound back together like a jigsaw puzzle.
"So you came after all," US spun around to see who had intruded. The American nation didn't notice that a person has entered the tent. The stranger's eyes were fixed on Alfred's scar. "It was you." The intruder spoke; he looked shaken. US could not speak.
"Alfred." The man whispered. US stared back. It was England.
England saw it.
Author's Notes:
(1) - One of the methods the Americans have learned during the Revolution was Guerilla fighting that was adopted from the Native American's fighting style. By hiding behind trees and rocks and attacking their foes when it is safe, the Americans have managed to win the war.
When the British fought, they often stand in neat rows. The first row would shoot and then sit down to load their guns. The second row would then stand up to shoot before sitting down to load their guns, and so on. Although the Americans may have had the advantage in this area, they were still small in number. Their weapons and uniforms were often self-supplied and the winters were harsh.
(2) - Back then, people brushed their teeth by applying salt to their teeth to protect them from turning bad. Dental was not a very safe profession as there was no medicine to stop you from feeling the pain. In fact, President George Washington nearly lost all of his teeth and had teeth made of hippopotamus ivory with gold. He wore the teeth during his inauguration, but it was lost and stolen shortly after.
(3) - There was no proper money system in America even after the revolution. For awhile, money was confusing. None of the states used the same type of money, meaning that you would have to trade and convert money whenever you enter into another state. Many presidents have struggled until the early 20th century of inventing proper money and banking system. Paper money was not used until later in the 19th century, but even then, paper money has not made its full debut until later in the early 20th century.
(4) - After the American Revolution, under President George Washington's office, America lived through isolation, or at least tried to live through isolation. George Washington felt that US's relation with France was too close, and so withdrew from the relationship. Washington felt that as a young nation, if US wanted to live and thrive, he would have to learn how to be dependent on himself and avoid getting involved in Europe's conflict. Truth to be said, US followed his advice, but fell out of it occasionally, and did not truly withdraw out of his isolation until after WWII when NATO and the other global organizations were formed.
Notes: Another chapter finished. So glad I'm done. Lots of stuff happens here. England now knows who US is! Oh crap!
I originally merged chapter 8 and 9 together in hopes of having one big chapter of US and England in the past, but I thought that there were too many scene changes. So in the end, I had to split the chapters in half for the shake of the story and for the shake of the readers. I think I would have killed my readers if I had this chapter and the previous one combined.
I felt guilty for torturing poor young Alfred. No wonder he hates England's cooking. I think I really overdid it this time. I'm sorry Alfred.
Please continue to read and review my story. Please tell me what you think of the chapter and how you felt and reacted to the events of the chapter. I hope you enjoyed this story so far. Don't worry, I will go back to the present soon enough.