Author Commentary: Ahshit, I know that I should be working on Family Relations, but this shanghaied my brain.
Character: Canada
Rating: K+
Warnings: Historical, angsting, human names
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, Canada would be the main character.
December 6th, 1917, Toronto, Canada
Arthur shivered, "Damn this bloody cold. You think that Canadians would have thought up better ways to warm their homes by now." he grumbled.
"It is because of the war back home. Much of the coal goes to fueling the war." Francis said, shifting a little in his chair, "Could you pass me that blanket over there?"
Arthur obliged, knowing Francis wasn't in a state that he could move around too much, what with the trenches digging into his body. France looked like a ghost. Pale skin, dank, limp hair, skinny body with bones jutting out of places where they normally would have been covered by lean muscle. The worst were his eyes. Sunken and dull, with almost none of their former sparkling mischievousness. England longed for even the most perverted of twinkles to return to the now soulless blue eyes.
"And we thought the war wouldn't last." Arthur mumbled.
Francis managed a weak laugh, then grunted.
"Something wrong?" asked the island nation.
"I think a boat of mine just exploded." France said, rubbing his chest, "Not in my waters, thankfully, but I could still feel it."
"That must mean it was a pretty big explosion." Arthur said.
From off in the house, a scream sounded. Not the screams of fright and pain that usually came with war, but a horrible screech of absolute terror and pure agony that came with complete animalistic panic.
Both European countries shot up out of their seats (France grunting a bit) and dashed down the hall. They turned into a the kitchen where the scream came from. It was also the place where Matthew had been preparing lunch for his two fathers.
Canada was on the floor, letting out more of the terrible wails. His body was convulsing and his eyes rolled back into his head. His back arched impossibly, like a bow, then snapped ramrod straight, and then he went still.
"Matthew!" Arthur said rushing forward. He scooped up the young nation in his arms, "Matthew! Wake up!"
Canada opened his eyes slowly, panting, "A-Arthur?" He said weakly, "I-it hurts . . . it hurts so much!" he cried, bursting into tears. Arthur cradled his thin body to his chest.
Francis kneeled down beside the two, "Matthieu, amoureux, où blesse-t-il?" he asked the shaking nation.
Matthew whimpered, trying to compose himself. After a few minutes, he managed to shakily reply, "T-the Ma-Maritimes. I-it really hurts!" and once again dissolved into tears.
"Ssh, it's all right, it's all right." Arthur said, rocking the young boy in his arms, "You'll be okay."
Canada then tried to sit up, "I-I have to go t-to H-alif-fax." he said.
France pushed him back down, "Non, you must stay here and recover. Vous devez se reposer."
Matthew shook his head, "I n-eed to." he pleaded.
Arthur and Francis exchanged glances, "Alright Matthew, we'll take you to Halifax."
After four excruciating hours on a private plane (the pilot had said he couldn't fly in this weather, but seeing his nation in such a state, he made an exception), the three nations arrived in Halifax, or rather, what was left of Halifax.
It was horrible. No one had ever seen anything like it. Buildings flattened or completely blown away, glass shattered hundreds of kilometers away, fires spreading, everything was completely destroyed, millions dead. Matthew looked at the chaos, his land, his people, all gone or suffering, and fell to his knees and cried, this time out of pure sadness and regret for his people. Francis and Arthur stood close, but didn't touch him, they knew what it was like to loose so many people and have the land devastated so much that it seemed that it would never return to it's former glory. The small group only reacted when they heard footsteps in the snow behind them.
"Mattie!" Alfred called, running up to them, "Mattie, I heard an explosion, is everything - Oh my . . . Oh my God."
"A-Alfred. Matthew said, "Th-they're all . . . Ils tous sont allés. Ils sont tous morts." He said, not even realizing he had reverted to French. He started to cry again, "Il blesse tellement!"
Alfred fell to his knees beside his brother and wrapped his arms around him, "It's okay, it's okay. You'll get through this. You're a little trooper." He said, rubbing Matthew's in a comforting manner, "You're so strong. You'll get through this."
The younger nation sniffed, "I'm not st-strong though. Y-you're str-stronger than me."
Alfred shook his head, "No, you are strong. Remember 1812? You marched right up to me and you burned my White House down to the ground. No other country has ever managed to invade me and do that. You're the only one."
Matthew managed a hiccupy giggle, "Really?"
Alfred nodded, grinning, "You sure showed me!"
Arthur kneeled down next to the brothers, "And think of all the things you've done in the war now."
Francis joined them, "Oui, You have been very strong. Think of the Somme, and of Ypres. Vous étiez très fort."
The three older nations rattled off more evidence of Canada's strength, until he eventually fell asleep. Alfred hefted him up and took him away from the demolished city. Matthew woke up in Alfred's house the next day, still in pain, but now also very cold, as a blizzard had rolled in. He shivered, curling the thick blankets around himself.
"A-al? Arth-thur? F-Francis?" He called, "Are you g-guys th-there?"
His call was immediately answered with foot steps racing down the hall, "I'm right here Mattie!" Alfred said, skidding into the room, "Don't worry! Your hero is h-GAH!" he cried as he tripped over Matthew's discarded coat.
The small Canadian laughed a little, watching Alfred pick himself up off the floor. Arthur walked into the room, "What on earth is going on in here?" he said, then he spied Alfred in the room, "Alfred, Matthew needs to rest, he can't get that if you're making a fool of yourself and keeping him up."
Alfred pouted, but the look lost some of its effect due to the Americans height, "But Arty, Mattie needed me!" he said.
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Matthew needs rest, and don't call me 'Arty'."
"Both of you need to leave." Francis said, carrying a tray full of food into the room, "How can Matthieu calm down enough to eat if you two will not let him?"
Matthew smiled at his family, "I-it's all right-t." he said, "I d-don't mind h-having e-everyone in h-here w-with me."
Alfred smirked and stuck his tongue out at Arthur, who rolled his eyes and plopped down in a chair placed beside Matthew's bed. Alfred sat down next to his brother on the bed, while Francis put the tray over Matthew's lap, then sitting down in the armchair in the corner of the room.
Matthew tried to sit up, but plopped back down on the bed. Alfred was quick to hoist him up into a sitting position, careful of causing his little brother any pain. Arthur picked up the spoon and scooped up some stew.
"Ah, I-I can f-feed mys-self Arthur." Matthew protested as the spoon was held up to his lips.
"You can barely move lad, just let me take care of you." was the stern reply as Arthur shoved the spoon into his sons mouth, "Help from the Canadian government is on it's way. A lot of people were injured, a lot of people died as well, but the remaining people are trying to tough it out. Your people are very strong." he said, knowing Matthew needed to hear it.
"Yeah! And my government is also sending in help as well!" Alfred said, "Along with a lot of other countries, but they only sent money." Alfred went on to rant about how his little brother deserved better than just some charity money.
For the next few weeks, this was the routine. Matthew would wake up and be fed by either Francis or Arthur, depending on whether the trenches were causing France pain. Then Alfred would stay by his little brothers side the entire day, entertaining him when he was awake, or watching over him as he slept. Matthew would get a little stronger each day, and soon he was able to sit up on his own and the pain of the explosion faded into a dull throb.
After a week had past, there were some knocks at the door.
"Who on earth could that be?" Arthur thought as he opened the door. He was surprised to find various countries on the doorstep, including Australia, Belgium, and even China.
"Hey there." Australia said, "We heard about Canada's predicament, so we came to help him out."
"Sorry for not coming earlier, we had some travel difficulties." Yao said.
Arthur shook away the shock, "N-no that's quite all right. I didn't even expect you to come. Please come in."
The countries all filed in, eager to be out of the cold.
"So where is the little guy?" New Zealand asked, "We'd like to give him our best wishes."
"He's up stairs." Francis said, coming up behind the group, "Mon Dieu, quel grand groupe." he said.
"Well, we heard what had happened to poor little Matthieu, and decided to come and wish him well." Bella said, climbing the stairs.
The large troupe followed the pretty Belgian up the stairs, eager to find the poor boy they had crossed the world to see. As they opened the door, they were greeted by Alfred attempting to juggle and Matthew laughing at his brothers antics.
"Hey, what are you guys doing here?" Alfred asked, ceasing his clowning.
"We came to help petit Matthieu. Vous chose pauvre. Vous devez avoir été en tellement douleur." Bella said, wrapping her arms around the bedridden Canadian.
"Pas, je suis très bien maintenant. Merci tout de votre souci." Matthew said, giving Bella a pat on the back.
"So how have you been holding up?" Yao asked, startling Matthew, who didn't expect China to be there.
"I'm fine. Well, I'm getting better. Alfred's been a real help. He sent so much relief to my people that I'm wondering how I'm going to pay him back."
"Mattie!" Alfred cried, "You don't have to pay me back. In fact, I forbid that you pay anyone back."
"He's right mate." Australia said, "You just work on gettin' better, don't even think of payin' us back."
Canada flashed a brilliant smile, "Thank you, thank you for everything."
Author Commentary: Ugh, I'm ending it there. I need to work on Family Relations. Sorry for spewing my crap at you, but I needed to clean out my brain.
Translations:
Matthieu, amoureux, où blesse-t-il?; Matthew, sweetheart, where does it hurt?
Vous devez se reposer.; You need to rest.
Ils tous sont allés. Ils sont tous morts: They are all gone. They are all dead.
Il blesse tellement!; It hurts so much!
Vous étiez très fort; You were very strong.
Mon Dieu, quel grand groupe; My God, what a large group.
Vous chose pauvre. Vous devez avoir été en tellement douleur; You poor thing. You must have been in so much pain.
Pas, je suis très bien maintenant. Merci tout de votre souci; No, I'm fine now. Thank you all for your concern.