Names used: Australia (Jett Kirkland), Vietnam (Nguyễn Thị Liên, Lien)
Author's note: Tumblr holiday request (cutebun): « If you ever need a rare pair to write for, might i suggest AustraliaxVietnam? there is few art and fanfiction of them ;ww; they had a lot of history with the vietnam war and what not! i don't care whether its angst or fluff so you're free to choose » get a lot of rare pair requests but this takes the cake for me because it makes sense in a way but I have never seen this pair before. Vietnam is a hard one for me to feel I've fully done justice too, because I don't have that extensive a knowledge of Vietnam or eastern Asian history, but I hope this will suffice by being more human than political because she is a most fascinating character.
You and I
Right off the bat things go to hell, Jett tripping on his way out of the customs area towards Lien. The petite woman laughs, her whole face lighting up, and Jett can only feel embarrassed and murmur, "Sorry 'bout that."
"It is no problem," Lien assures him in neat English too like Al's for anyone's comfort. "Come, you must be tired and the trip to my home is long."
When Jett finally emerges from his room the next morning, having completely underestimated how drained he was after flying all around before coming to Vietnam, he finds his host sitting out in her backyard. Whether she's praying or simply taking a pause in life, he isn't sure, so the Australian sits as quietly as he can just outside the door to wait for her.
Nguyễn Thị Liên, with a name Jett swears he'll spell right one of these days, has always been a mystery to him. She was headstrong but shy, skillful but simple. Most conversations the two had were either boring, interrupted by someone else, or involved Lien trying to explain something to Jett. Like something out of a cartoon the moment she'd start listing off Vietnamese names his mind would go blank and he'd retain none of it.
Yet Lien still has Jett over, every so often, and he's not sure what he's ever done special to deserve this sort of hospitality. Well, what he's really not sure of was why she willingly talks to him after… well… yeah, that period of time. With others, especially Al, Lien had taken on a calm but cool voice that those around them, not the Vietnamese nation herself, tended to put too much emphasis on. Matt had once postulated that she did it on purpose, because the female nations incarnate knew how it drove the men crazy and how unsure it made them when they gave indirect answers in airy voices as if nothing was wrong, but Jett isn't quite sure he fully supports that theory. When it comes to the Vietnamese woman, he isn't quite sure of anything.
"You have questions," Lien whispers and looking up Jett sees she hasn't moved, her body still facing away from the house towards the countryside. "Your breathing indicates as much."
"I don't get you," Jett calls back honestly.
"What is there to 'get'?"
"I don't know, but there must be something."
Shaking her head the woman rises with a grace that reminds Jett of Francis, before he remembers that maybe that's not a good thing. "Breakfast?" Lien asks, a hand on the Australian's head as she goes into the house.
"Always."
They go into a nearby village in the afternoon, where children flock to Jett as Lien laughs and eggs them on. Old women give sage wisdom to the Australian, all translated through his companion, and Jett swears this time he'll remember all of it when he leaves Vietnam as if any person, human or nation, could remember every moment of their journey. At least he'll remember Lien's big smiles and the peace he feels with her.
The process repeats for a few days, because Jett understands when Lien complains that she's tired of big cities and politics and museums, so they do less menacing but more meaningful things instead. On the last day they have to mix things up though, the rain lashing against the house as they sit inside and play cards; the Australian was well beyond getting his ass whooped.
"Damn girl," he laughs as Lien wins another round, taking a candy from the shrinking pile as her prize. "Who taught you to kick ass at cards like that?"
"Francis," she says proudly, a smile filling her face, but Jett feels a little weird and so his smile doesn't quite mirror hers. "Ok, seriously." Lien throws her cards down, leaning forward to look at her companion. "Can you stop doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"That."
"What?"
"Whatever it is you are doing." Huffing she crosses her arms over her chest. "You said you do not get me."
"I don't," Jett agrees.
"There is nothing to get," Lien tries but the Australian just shakes his head. "People look at you and you are Jett. Not Australia: Jett. You can say something about Arthur Kirkland, or your cousins, and it isn't weird." Jett nods, so far pretty sure he was following. "People look at me–" and here the woman sighs, standing and moving to the window. She turns to look at him and the light from behind makes her look absolutely incredible. "People look at me and I am Vietnam. Not Liên: Vietnam."
"Oh," the Australian replies before it hits him. "Ooh!"
"Do you understand now?" The woman's honey eyes look tired and for the first time in a long time, Jett see only a young thing of beauty before him, not a nation incarnate.
"Sorry, Lien. I can be a bit thick sometimes."
"No one else has ever tried though," Lien comforts with a weak smile. "Now, would you like to play another round?"
"I believe the better question is am I prepared to get my ass handed to me again and the answer to that is yes, yes I am."
Half-asleep and slightly drunk he only just recognizes the feeling of someone climbing across the bed to lay beside him. Instinct has Jett reaching out to pull Lien close, kissing her forehead.
"Tell me I'm pretty," she whispers out of the blue, a crack in her voice. "Tell me I'm more than an ugly past." He's been around in this world long enough to know not to ask questions, still enough of an English gentleman to find the right words, and maybe now he understands his almost-friend enough to really hear what she was saying.
"Lien, you're the prettiest thing this side of the world has ever produced and we're all idiots for not having seen it sooner."
No more words left to say they fall asleep like that, nothing romantic to the embrace but something deeper passing between them that Jett can't deny. Maybe their words carried more weight than even he had known.
In the airport, his bags checked in, Jett gives Lien a tight hug. "What was that for?" the Vietnamese woman asks in a hushed whisper, clearly embarrassed; in private she was strong but in public she was shy.
"For you," Jett jokes, giving her cheek a peck. "You stay classy till I next see you Lien."
"Aren't I always?" the woman counters, waving as he leaves.
There's nearly no surprise anymore to Jett coming home and finding Al and Matt have already made themselves comfortable. "Jeez, guys, I don't show up at your place the second it gets nippy down under."
"That's because," his Canadian cousin points out, "we make an effort to change the locks on our doors; you don't."
"Where were you even?" Al asks as he hands Jett a beer, the two clinking their bottles before taking deep drinks.
"Visiting a friend," Jett mumbles. He doesn't know why he doesn't come outright and say Lien, but something in him holds back.
"Ooh, a 'friend'," Al teases as he collapses on the couch. "That must mean she's real pretty."
"Aw yeah," Jett agrees, deciding that maybe, for just a little while longer, he'd keep his visits to Lien as something for only him, to hold close to his heart. "She's a right sight prettier than you."
"That's not that very hard to do," Matt gets in and all hell breaks loose after that.
A few days later a letter arrives containing a picture of some Vietnamese village and a photograph of Lien holding some of the village children. The note itself is short but says everything it needs, and Jett is happy with that.
"Thank you, my friend. – Liên"
