Author's Notes; Again, total fail. D: I actually don't like this that much, but I wrote it so I might as well publish it. I decided to call Australia "Steve", as much as I hate it how people always associate us Australian's with Steve Irwin. :( Oh well! I love this song~ My sister sings it in the shower. XD
The sounds of gunshots and bombs still rang in Arthur's ears, and the images of the dead and wounded clouded his vision. Silence was overwhelming in the small space of the transport vehicle. To his left was Steve, to his right Alfred and seated in front of him was Francis, Wang and Ivan. Emotionless, empty expressions reflected each nation's unheard opinion of the war. No one talked. No one smiled. For what reason did they have to? Their Children murdered, their homes destroyed. Nothing good was to come of this. Arthur hung his head in grief. If only it would end, he thought bitterly, If only it would stop. Deep down, he knew this was just the beginning. All he wanted to do was to be able to throw down his gun, go home and enjoy a nice cup of tea. A silly thought, but a thought none the less. It kept him going; a hope he held dear. Arthur knew that to do that, he'd have to stop Ludwig.
Ludwig, that scary German bastard.
Personally he held nothing against the man. He knew he was only doing what everyone else was doing-; following his leader's orders. But what kind of sick, demented leader did he have? What in Gods name put that man in control of one of Europe's great nations? The question would forever be unanswered in Arthur's mind. Stressed and exhausted, the Englishman let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. "Artie?" Steve questioned cautiously, "You ok, mate?" Arthur covered his face with his hands, as if wiping away his troubles. Weakily he smiled at the Aussie. "I'm fine, Steve. I just wish this bloody war would get a move on and end already." A sudden, half-smothered laugh broke out from Francis' lips. "And what? We don't?" Noticing Arthur suddenly bristle, the man shook his head wearily. "Forgive me, mon cheri. You are not the only one here who is tired and wishing for home. I would gladly put my head in the sand after all the merde this war has put me through. Unfortunately, we cannot." Arthur felt suddenly vexed, like a switched had been turned on by the Frenchman's existence alone. "Well, that's just like you isn't it, Francis? A whole lot of help you've been, you sodding prick!"
"Va te faire foutre! If that is the way you choose to behave, I might as well hand you over to Ludwig now!"
"You do that! Then everyone will know what a stupid bloody traitor you are!!"
"TRAITOR?!" Francis was bolt upright, rage emminate on his usually ridiculous face. "Now I shall leave. I will not sit here and be abused by you!" On his feet, the vehicle still moving, Francis started for the back exit; only to be stopped by a metal faucet pipe to the chest. Ivan smiled menacingly. "Sit back down, da?" Silently, the winded man took his seat again. Arthur, still fuming, glared at the Russian. "Care for him that much, do you?" He spat. Ivan looked over, his smile dropped and for the first time a pure look of loathing swept his features. "What?"
"Since when did you care whether or not one of us jumped off the back of a moving car? For all we know, you'd happily be the one to push us!"
"You want me to torture you?"
"I wouldn't let you, you commun--"
"England!" Wang suddenly burst in, "Hold your tongue! I have had enough of fighting."
"Bugger all! I'll do what I want!"
"You really want to die, da?"
"EVERYONE. SHUT. UP." Silence as all eyes and ears turned to Alfred. "Arthur, I don't know what's dead and rotting up your ass, and I don't want to know how Francis managed to get it in that far, but you really need to stop being such an asshole. This war isn't between ourselves, now is it? It's between the Allied forces and those goddamn Axis powers! If we can't work together to bring down Ludwig, Kiku and Feliciano the world's gonna be a total shithole!" Everyone's anger vanished, replaced once again by that hollow feeling. Alfred, suprisngly serious, tried to think of something else to say... but failed. Soon, the young America pilot was also in gloom. Minutes passed, with only the rattle of the vehicle and the whistling of the wind to comfort them. What could they say to each other, without once again being at each others throats? What words could possibly work? Arthur brooded on the thought, and was rattled to have Steve answer it for him. "Show me the way to go home..." He sang softly. Arthur perked up, the familiar song lifting his spirits greatly. Without a second thought, he joined in and soon after Alfred followed suit. The three gained momentum and were soon belting the words out, huge grins across their faces. Francis, Wang and Ivan all sat confused, but infected by the trio's enthusiasm. "What song is that?" Wang asked, soon after they had finished. "Don't you know it?" Steve asked, suprised. "We'll teach you!"
Five minutes later, they all sung in union; a small choir from the back of the truck.
"Show me the way to go home,
I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
I had a little drink about an hour ago,
And it went straight to my head.
Where ever I may roam,
On land or sea or foam,
You will always hear me singing this song,
Show me the way to go home!"
They repeated three, maybe five times. Every time it was sung, they filled ever more with hope. And as the vehicle pulled into the Allied Trenches, their song was heard and gave hope to their soldiers. England, Australia, America, China, Russia and France; united once again by a meer song.