October of 1797

Elbridge Gerry eyed the boy's worryingly green complexion with bemusement. "You've managed to keep your equilibrium for weeks at sea, only to be getting sick when we've nearly docked?"

Alfred shook his head, trying to ignore the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach. "No sir, I believe it's just nerves. I've never actually left the Western Hemisphere, before."

"Oh, no need to fret," a new voice reassured jovially. "It's France, after all. A land of decadence, intrigue, and romance!"

Gerry glanced over at the rather cheerful newcomer. "Well at least someone is in good spirits, this morning...For some odd reason. Were you so desperate for retreat that you had to cross an entire ocean to feel at peace?"

John Marshall smiled easily. "Oh, of course not. I eagerly await the moment I can return to Virginia-In fact I suspect this will be a fruitless exercise, if the rumors of French diplomatic policy are to be believed. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy the thought of actually being in a place I've only ever read about."

"From experience, I can predict that you'll both tire of it rather quickly," Gerry said. "It is Europe after all."

Alfred frowned. "What's so bad about being in Europe?"

The firm diplomat sighed. "Nothing, save for the unfortunate fact that it's teeming with Europeans."

"It can't be that miserable here," Marshall protested good-naturedly. "Yes, the stringent social protocol may seem rather trying...And of course, no European I've ever met seemed to have a sense of humor...but surely we can look past all that and achieve the ends we came here to meet and preserve peace."

Alfred smiled for the first time this morning. "'Have the French for friends, but not for neighbors'?"

"Exactly," Gerry agreed with a short nod.

"But don't let them hear you say that," Marshall warned quickly. He struck a comically self-important pose. "You're here to observe diplomacy at its best, and by God we'll be the best example you'll ever have."

Their conversation was interrupted when the ship gave a great jolt, causing them all to nearly lose their balance.

Elbridge righted himself and huffed. "They couldn't have at least given us a warning before we touched the dock?"

"Look on the bright side," Alfred advised with a youthful snigger. "The bump probably woke up Charles."

John Marshall chuckled ruefully. "Speaking of Pinkney, would you mind going to pester him until he rouses himself completely and dresses? I don't want to be waiting on him all day."

The blond saluted casually and sauntered off, leaving the two diplomats relatively alone on the deck.

"...Did you believe Adams when he said that Alfred was here simply to observe?" Marshall asked after a moment.

"Not for a moment," Gerry answered promptly. "I happen to know that Alfred has somewhere else to be, overmorrow. Something to do with a letter he'd received...I suspect that this journey was actually timed around a schedule that had very little to do with ideal seafaring conditions."

John leaned forward slightly in anticipation. "Do you also happen to know what this letter entailed, exactly?"

Elbridge crossed his arms. "No...But I have a feeling that its mysterious contents are not meant for mortal eyes."

"'Mortal'?"

The older delegate raised his eyebrows for a brief instant, but it was gone as quickly as it came, only to be replaced by an enigmatic smile. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten, you aren't..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Never you mind."

John Marshall frowned. "But-"

"It isn't of your concern, Mister Marshall," Gerry interrupted with a silencing gesture. "It isn't my story to tell, and it isn't your God-given right to know."

John blinked at his companion's suddenly sharp tone, but subsided. As Elbridge Gerry turned on his heel and walked away, he had to remind himself that they weren't here solely for Alfred F. Jones's mysterious private engagement.

They were here to speak with Talleyrand.

Their rooms were grand, to say the least. The French had been generous in providing lodgings. A luxurious room in the positively stunning Palace of Versailles, with every conceivable want or need simply a request away. Alfred, however, seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole situation. He wasn't accustomed to such grand surroundings, and clearly wanted to be away from them as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for him, however, Talleyrand had only seen them briefly, and only to accept their credentials. Though he'd posed some oddly specific questions about President Adams's opinion of the 'Glorious Revolution'. Later, Marshall had called their tactful aversion to answering these questions, 'Diplomatic Silence'.

Alfred, being a rather blunt speaker that preferred straightforward interaction, was clearly out of his element.

"What's troubling you, boy?" Charles Pinkney asked later that evening in the relative privacy of what could only be described as an incredibly lavish sitting room.

The blond shifted in his chair. "It's nothing important, sir."

When Alfred didn't elaborate further, Gerry leaned back in his chair. "Don't be nervous, Alfred. No one can hurt you-not even here. We just need to get this over with, and then we'll be back on the boat before you know it."

"Indeed!" Pinkney agreed from near the incredibly large, unlit fireplace. "We've made enough peace with England where they're willing to trade, so the French should be easy to compromise with by comparison. I mean, they don't even have a legitimate reason to dislike us."

Alfred seemed to think about it. "...But will they take me-er, us seriously?"

Marshall leaned forward, having caught the slip in words. He studied the cerulean-eyed boy closely. "You're not just referring to Talleyrand, are you? This is something else…something you're doing this week that we cannot attend with you."

"Marshall…" Elbridge muttered in warning. "We agreed not to pester him about it."

"I did nothing of the sort," Marshall retorted a trifle sharply. His gaze returned to the fidgeting blond, his voice softening again. "You can tell us. The conversation won't leave this room."

"I, uh..." Alfred glanced around, as if looking for an exit. "I shouldn't say. The letter specifically mentioned that-" He cut himself off with a wide-eyed expression, as if fearing that he'd already said too much.

Pinkney observed Alfred with intense curiosity. "The missive that you received shortly before our departure, correct? Surely someone as young as yourself shouldn't bear this apparent burden alone."

The teenage boy crossed his arms and shook his head violently, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Come now-"

"Leave him alone, John!" Gerry Elbridge finally exploded, jumping to his feet. "Can't you see that he's nervous enough as it is? The last thing he needs is a companion who won't allow him some privacy!"

Marshall's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth. He stared at the sterner diplomat, too surprised to be offended. Charles was playing the role of innocent observer, while Alfred just looked between the two with something akin to guilt.

In the deafening silence that ensued, Elbridge slowly sat back down. He eyed John Marshall, as if daring the rather stricken man to argue.

"I…" John trailed off, at a loss for words. He looked down with a suddenly repentant expression.

And then without warning, Charles Pinkney laughed out loud. At their baffled looks, he laughed even harder. "I never thought, in my lifetime, that I'd ever see a politician so completely tongue-tied!"

Marshall's cheeks gained a slightly pinkish tint. "I am most certainly not tongue-tied!" he protested with attempted irritation. Though his lips were curved into the slightest of smiles.

Alfred's laughter bounced off the walls, filling the American diplomats with an inexplicable sense of security and mirth. Even Elbridge was affected, for he had to stifle a snort of amusement.

They passed the rest of the evening in relatively good spirits, exchanging anecdotes, jokes, and even tips on the finer points of courtship (much to Alfred's embarrassed chagrin). For the first time since disembarking the ship, they felt that they could forget their worries for a little while.

For the first time since leaving the United States, they felt safe.

John Marshall scowled darkly. "Sirs, we did not just travel over three thousand miles of ocean to be toyed with!"

The Frenchman, who'd introduced himself as 'Monsieur X', simply folded his hands on the wide, ornate desk. "We are not toying with you, as you so rudely put it. It is a perfectly reasonable request."

"'Request'," Pinkney echoed indignantly. "Fifty thousand pounds is most certainly not a reasonable request! It's a shameless bribe!"

'Monsieur Y' sniffed pretentiously, setting Alfred's teeth on edge. "I suppose we could understand your surprise, considering your rather, ah…rough backgrounds. But this really is a typical procedure among civilized powers."

"Poor Americains," 'Monsieur Z' sighed with false pity. "Completely 'elpless when faced with ze reality of world affairs. It's not as if you 'ave a choice, anyhow. We haven't even discussed the loan that would follow-"

"A loan?!" Alfred exclaimed suddenly from the sidelines. "I-er, we can't afford this!"

"I knew this would be a damned farce," Elbridge practically growled. In a louder voice, he addressed the three Frenchmen equally. "If this is your idea of a civilized power, then we want no part of it!"

Monsieur X had the gall to smirk. "Well, if that is really your decision…Then I suppose what comes next cannot be helped." He shrugged, as if it were inconsequential to him.

Heavy silence fell upon the four Americans as they contemplated the implications of this failure to compromise. John Marshall stood up, his expression carefully blank. "Gentlemen…let us take our leave."

Both Gerry and Charles rose and, without any further acknowledgement towards their French counterparts, made to vacate the room. Alfred trailed behind dejectedly.

Monsieur Y's voice rang out from behind, "When you finally reconsider, we will be happy to-"

"NOT A SIXPENCE!" Pinkney roared furiously.

SLAM!

They did not slow down until they'd reached their rooms. "I can't believe it," Alfred muttered in complete dismay. "He said he was my friend!"

"Who?"

The blond plopped down onto the heavily embroidered settee, and began fiddling with the hem of his coat. "…Never mind."

"I will arrange for our departure immediately," Charles decided. "When is your engagement, Alfred?"

"Well, it's supposed to go on all week, but..." Alfred paused hesitantly.

"'But'…?" Elbridge prompted a bit impatiently. "Come now, you of all people should have more conviction!"

Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath. "I will only be attending for tomorrow."

"And why is that?" Marshall asked. "If this appointment was important enough to schedule our visit around it, then surely it would be wise to experience it in full? It wouldn't do to have this trip be a complete waste of time."

Blue eyes were uncharacteristically sober as he slowly shook his head. "No…I think I know where I stand, here. I'd rather not spend any more time in Europe than I absolutely have to."

The room was already dissolving into little arguments and casual conversation. This was to be expected, seeing as how the host Nation was doing very little to move the meeting forward.

France leaned close to England's ear. "Guess who's going to walk in any minute, now."

The Englishman refused to even look his way, keeping his eyes on the speaker.

But the purple-clad Nation was far from done. He straightened with a smirk. "He's free of your grubby hands, now. Soon he's going to be played right into mine. Maybe after that I can take Mathieu back from you." He pretended to think about it for a moment. "Or, maybe I'll just wait for Canada to grow tired of you, and follow in his brother's footsteps. You can't be that easy to live with."

England's lips twitched into a frown, severe eyebrows lowering slightly. That was all the warning France had as hands clamped around his throat.

"Haven't you taken enough from me already?" the English Empire demanded as France worked to remove the iron grip from his neck. "If it wasn't for you, then-"

"Britain! France!"

They froze, and glanced towards the front of the room. Prussia was standing with his hands flat on the table, glaring at them with unusual seriousness. The room seemed to have frozen with surprise and curiosity. He gestured with his head towards the large double doors at the end of the room, one of which was being held open by none other than the newest addition to their ranks.

America stared around the room with…disappointment? His eyes never lingered on anyone for very long-not even his former caretaker. "Take me off the mailing list. I can already tell that this is a waste of time."

"And did you come all the way here just to say that?" Spain inquired, his voice dripping with false sweetness. He rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Romano, who was busy scowling at the fact that his brother had fallen asleep.

"I actually came here hoping to be surprised," the American Nation sighed. His cerulean eyes held a solid conviction that seemed…too old for him, at least in England's opinion. "And France?"

"Oui, mon petit Ameriq-?"

"Fuck you."

The heavy door slammed shut hard enough to make the table shake, leaving the room in shocked silence.

Britain tried to affect disinterest. Like the sight of Alfred's face hadn't sent a wave of agonizing loss through him.

France somehow made glaring a hole into the door look fashionable. "A backwater colony, playing Nation games," he sneered. "How very drole."

Prussia frowned intensely. "Did no one tell him that he needs to attend these meetings, since he doesn't speak to his neighbors? If only for his health?"

"It matters not," England said dismissively. "He'll come crawling back to me soon enough, when his little social experiment fails."

The albino sat back down, his face pensive. "I don't know about that…but I do know we can't afford to have another Atlantis situation on our hands. Especially with the world as it is, right now."

The English Empire folded his arms and leaned back. 'It won't come to that-he'll come back. He has no choice. One way or another, he will come back to me. And then everything will be as it should be.'

He blinked, surprised at his self-realization. He did want Alfred back, despite all the pain that the idiot had caused him. Even after this most humiliating fluke of a military defeat, he had come to one unavoidable conclusion. 'I want him back…I will make him come back.'

I KNOW, I KNOW I HAVE ANOTHER STORY I SHOULD BE WORKING ON. This is just a quick one-shot to reassure myself that yes, I can write something other than a crossover. It's also a bit of a prologue to another story I have planned…later down the line. Kind of historical, with the XYZ Affair. That isn't exactly how it happened, of course, but writing out the entire thing would have made it long-winded and a little boring.

And the 'Atlantis situation'? A tale for another day. ;P

Thanks for reading, and I would greatly appreciate it if you told me how I did in a review.

Later dudes. ^J^