1. Loyal
They exited the conference room silently, walking side by side at America's unspoken insistence.
She was bitter, keeping her head down to hide her anger. He on the other hand had no problem flaunting it, simply looking off to the side as they walked along, as if flipping off the nations he just got done yelling at. This time England had not bothered coming after them.
Once more, the world had rallied against Israel, and the woman felt it down to her core. They called her a rule breaker, unreasonable, and the Arabs had called her worse: words she did not feel necessary to repeat.
It had started with heated conversation; this only earned a look of disapproval from America with crossed arms. The topic was the possibility that she possessed nukes. She held her own against the world, claiming it to be her right to prepare herself to defend against her enemies, which in her neighborhood accounted for pretty much everyone.
Iran had snarled back, saying that should she have the right, why not him? That's when the Europeans had jumped in. France, Germany, Britain, all of them… they stood behind Iran. They were calling her to show cooperation, to show restraint, and trust. But she saw it in their eyes. The hatred, the….disgust.
Jew… the word was considered dirty. Even still today.
And of course Iran held all them by the scruff of their throats with his oil. Those were the real reasons.
Still, she held her own and refused to submit. And then he spoke up. His tolerance was only so long, (which wasn't very much when it came to her). It happened the same way every time: when it became clear the UN was getting ready to rally, America made his signature killing move:
"Anything proposed against Israel will be immediately blocked by my Veto."
That earned him snarls from all around the table. And one fist slam.
"HOW MUCH LONGER ARE YOU GONING TO LET HER MANIPULATE YOU, YOU GIT?!" England shouted.
The Blond-haired calmly turned to regard him. "Are you sure you should be talking about manipulation?" He asked with a smirk.
Ah, so he knows about the oil too.
"Really America," France sighed, brushing his hair out, "Is it not about time you stopped this brash nonsense? As you can see, you opinion alone is the one that Israel should be protected."
Alone… alone…. The word ran through Israel's head again and again. She was used to the feeling. The persecution, the humiliation, the fear… none of it was new to her. They hated her for one thing or another. The Jew was the world's punching bag.
She was a fool to believe that the Holocaust would be the final straw. They said Jews deserved to be protected, they deserved a home, a place to be safe. Sixty years later, it turned out only one nation meant it.
She stood in frustration and moved to leave. Damn the meeting.
America stood slightly more calmly to follow.
"I'm the only one with that opinion, huh? Too bad my opinion is the only one that matters."
"AMERICA!" England shouted.
"And just what do you mean by that?!" France demanded.
Said nation only turned his head to regard them. "Who do you think pays all the bills around here?"
And with that, the two walked out. Now moving for the door, she looked up at him. His anger was evident, though he had surprisingly suppressed it well. But she saw the smirk with that last little verbal sucker-punch.
"That will cost you, you know."
The American raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" His tone was mocking, but amused.
"I have been alone for a long time America. I am used to abuse and ridicule. But you are still young, you may try MAKING friends once in awhile."
America looked like he was actually pondering it. This caused some alarm.
"But do not think this absolves you of your responsibility to me!" she shot. "You still have your promise to keep!" She turned away. "Or have you forgotten it, like them?"
She felt a hand, kind but firm, placed on her shoulder. And then another hand on her other shoulder made her look at him straight in the eye. She was more than a little shocked by his boldness, as well as the dead serious look he was giving her.
"Never."
Her breathing hitched for a moment. She didn't think he'd go that far.
"I will not forget that day….or that promise."
She should have blushed, but that would only be possible if she were much younger. Those words spoken would have made younger girls blush like corny high school romantics (as she noted with Taiwan. Ugh, that name made her mad). In her case, in Israel's case, it only reminded her of his youth. He was the only one who took the promise to protect and respect her to heart.
No one else; only the young would look at the promise like it was a calling, even if it meant getting hurt. A view that could only be held by the naïve. And, of course, it was not like she was heartless.
She expected him to keep his promise to protect, but the lengths he went to even made her shake. He made enemies with practically every Arab. And even his once longtime friends now turned on him.
"America…" she spoke softly. "You do not have to protect me all the time… You have your own interest to look out for. You can stand against me… once in awhile."
Yeah right.
"NEVER." He shot. "SCREW. THOSE. MORONS."
And that was the end of the conversation. Of course he would say that.
And why? Because he was a hero, and she was a girl, and the hero always protected the girl.
No… for him it was matter of honor.
Rule #3 America… I do not need any more dead heroes.
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2. Possessive
That girl's name was Taiwan. Israel remembered that well. She kept track of everyone America talked too. And this one she was not too fond of.
She was certainly beautiful. With a body that any woman would kill for as well as a sense of grace that was the calling card of well-developed intellect. Her whimsical nature was a just a show, and Israel knew who it was for.
Her eyes shot up to catch America showing a smile and wave in the girl's direction. She responded with her own happy grin and hands cutely clasped together like some schoolgirl.
Israel fought down a growl. Her eyes met Taiwan's, which had narrowed at the sight of her.
"Look…but don't touch," the Jewish girl warned with her eyes, her hand snaking down to hold America's. Taiwan's teeth clenched.
"And just what makes you think he's yours?!" The younger Asian stomped her foot with her hands balled into fists. Taiwan's eyes reverted back to their happy selves and blew America a kiss.
This time Israel could not control herself at seeing the idiot's stupid blush.
"YeeAAH!" America cried as his ear was pulled by Israel.
"Eyes forward America," she growled.
Taiwan again stomped her foot angrily.
"What are you doing?! OW!" the Westerner yelped.
"Rule number ten America: girls are fickle things. We don't like to be made jealous."
"R-Rules?" America asked confusedly, still straining against the cruel pinch of her fingers. "W-What rules?!"
- - -
3. Survivor
Her mind had all but been obliterated.
Her people had cried now for years. And no one had answered. She now lay in the dirt face down. She chose not to turn her face up. The view through the prison bars that imprisoned her in the mud hole was nothing to look at: An everlasting grey sky, its color fed by the ungodly smoke stack rising to unreal heights, spewing out the blackish-grey soot that was once the many bodies of her people.
Bit by bit… she was eaten away.
It was not the first she felt persecution, but one could endure only so many tortures…
It was the Jew's fate to be beaten, to be put down, but she would rise again… only to be beaten down again. The vicious cycle seemed to never end.
And no one seemed to care…
And that's when she heard the gun shot.
It made her jolt. That was no execution. That was not the sound of Luger. The shot was more powerful. And she could hear shouts and yells from a struggle. One voice stood out in particular…
Germany?! Why was he here?!
And the other voice was foreign. Germany was arguing with it. The other one sounded enraged, yelling about the smoke…
Somebody knew?
Germany's shouts were no longer of anger… growing more desperate. And suddenly he was screaming…
And then another gunshot.
Silence…
And suddenly her gate was thrown open. She looked up in bewilderment. Who…?
She didn't recognize him.
It was face unlike any she had ever seen.
The olive-green uniform he was wearing wasn't European. She had never seen this man before. His face was dirty, his clothes too. Blond hair was matted down from sweat. But what struck the most were his eyes.
Wild and fierce, she had not seen eyes like those for a long time.
He jumped into the hole. (No one would do that for her.) He picked her up gingerly, as if she would break apart.
"It's alright. You're safe now."
Safe….safe….safe….
A feeling she had never felt…
Her own arms gripped the back of his shirt desperately clinging to him as tears silently ran down her cheeks.
Rule #19 America… Never let go…
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To be continued…
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The first three parts were small so I figured I'd combine them. The rest will be bigger though, so they will have their own chapters.
Reviews are nice… and motivating.