Name: Rebirth
Pairing: Usuk, hints of Giripan, Gerita and Sufin (very, very light hints)
Genre: Ohh, you have to put this up too, hm… Romance I guess, Adventure, Angst (but only a tiny, tiny bit) uh… Fluff at the ending…
Warnings: slash, past state of death, fairies and other fantasy creatures, kissing,
Disclaimer: I don't own the nations, even though it would be wonderful if I did. Feli could cook me wonderful pasta all day long. I only own the scary cock, the giggling dryad and the meddling fairies.
Summary: England has been dead for a hundred years, his islands sunken into the sea because of tsunami. But now the island is emerging from the ocean again. Will it give America back his lost love?
They knew it was coming, had known for a while, but nothing could prepare them for what it was like. The giant wave rose above them, leaving no escape. Then there was coldness, and darkness, and silence.
Arthur dreamt. He dreamt of sky blue and golden, and of laughter and strong arms. He dreamt of friends and smiles and life. Of a great city with old and majestic buildings, of humans that came and went, of a quiet home surrounded by his country. He dreamt as his body lay on the bottom of the sea, carefully cocooned by the seaweed that his friend amongst the sea spirits wove around his sleeping body.
His resting place amongst the sea coral slowly rose towards the surface, or the surface slowly lowered itself towards him. The spirits built a safe nest of old coral and rock around him to make sure no one disturbed his rest, and Arthur dreamt on.
He dreamt of the voices, of shouted words over the radio, and of a warning that was too late. He dreamt of the wave that overtook all ground.
And as time went by his resting place slowly moved so it was no more in the sea, but on the shore, encased in rock and dead coral, and now it was no longer the sea spirits that watched over him, it was the becca horse, and the other shore dwellers, spirits of drowned sea men and old pirates who still remembered him.
His dreams changed, he no longer dreamt of the past. He dreamt of sky blue that no longer laughed, but looked haunted and sad. He dreamt of meeting were once merry friends had laughed but now instead were quiet and saddened because someone was missing, someone important.
He also dreamt of an island which rose from the sea and people who slowly moved back too settle down on it, dreamt as the islands grew and grew where the sea retreated.
His resting place was no longer the shore, but a meadow hundred meters from the coast line, and fairies danced around his bed. They carved a temple from the dead coral, and planted an oak on the roof.
And he dreamt of sky blue, which now seemed hopeful and searching, and it ached in his heart, even though he didn't know why, because Arthur no longer remembered anything but his dreams, and the time he had slept, even though he knew that there had been a time before he went to sleep on the bottom of the ocean.
Arthur dreamt of a father that proudly told his son that they were British, and that it was their forefathers land they would be going to, too live in. But he could not remember what being British meant. And he dreamt of mothers who sang a song about the sea to their daughters and the tunes made his heart ache, and the song stayed with him for a long time, whispering…
…Rule Britannia… …Britannia rule the waves…
But he could not remember why the words were important
Time moved, his temple now stood in the middle of a forest and the oak had grown to incase the whole temple with its roots. And the now older oak whispered to him, where he lay under its roots, whispered about the animals that moved into the forest, and the humans that came to the island, and about the fairy song, about the moon and the sun.
His temple slowly began to crumble, as the oak dug its roots into the stone. And as he slept, he could hear it, slowly, slowly freeing him from his sleep, but not yet, soon but not yet.
He dreamt of the people who came to the island that now had almost grown back to its original size, (though how he knew what it looked like originally he didn't know) dreamt of how they begun to build cities, and as more and more of them begun to talk about Britain, about England, he felt his stone temple crumble.
Years went by, and then the people in his dream begun to talk about independence, talk about a New England, he felt the oak, which now was ancient, slowly open the nest of roots it had grown around his resting place.
And so he woke, one beautiful day, slowly crawling out from between the oak's roots.
He wandered in the forest for a while, slept in the nest of old tree roots, as he had done before, or in the tree tops where he could see the stars and the moon, and he felt wonder for whenever he looked at them old memories bubbled up from the depth of his mind, telling him the names and the stories of each individual star.
He wandered through meadows and over mountains, marveling at the nature around him, and at how much he knew, taking each new piece of knowledge that his mind supplied him with, with equal wonder.
He talked to dwarfs and spirits, rode unicorns, and thanked the sea spirits for watching over him. He danced with the fairies in their sacred groves, and watched as they spun clothes for him from the silk of spiders.
A whole year he spent in the forest, away from humans. He stayed the winter with a couple of hospitable dwarfs and later in the secret glade where the summer king and queen hid from the cold.
He spent the spring with his friends in the forest, on the plains and in the mountains, but after celebrating midsummer with the dryads and the fauns he felt the call of the cities. He felt drawn to the humans.
And so, he said goodbye to all his friends and promised he would visit them again, and that when he chose to settle down it would be somewhere they could visit. Then he left for the new place, the human settlement.
The cities were quite beautiful, more open, airier and cleaner than most of the cities in his old dreams (Or were they memories?). He walked amongst the humans, and they all smiled at him, happily and proudly, but as soon as they turned they seemed to wonder why they had done so. He smiled back, greeted everyone with manners he had no idea he had. But mostly he just walked, smiling in wonder of what he saw, and feeling a strange pride in everything, though he did not know why the sight of the hard work of the people filled him with pride.
Time passed, and now he did not only greet the people, he stopped to talk to them. He got to know them and each one he talked to found them self opening up to the stranger with ruffled hair and forest green eyes.
He learnt about the people, their hardship, their joy and their life's. He listened to their history; how four or five generations ago the island that was called The United Kingdom was swallowed by water, and their forefathers fled.
He learnt that now more and more of the original Englishmen returned as big parts of the island were uncovered. He listened to the history of the world, and also to the trivial thing. To proud parents, talking about how their children took the first step on the homeland's ground. To farmers who now managed to restart the farms and grow new things on the once dead island. To builders who proudly talked about rebuilding old landmarks, yes they had even started renovating the few that miraculously had somewhat survived the flood.
And wherever he went he always heard one thing. Soon, very soon, the other nations of the world would declare England an independent country again, and his heart was filled with joy, though he did not understand why.
America sighed. He was once again in a boring meeting with his government. The old men and women where bickering as usual. Though they called it discussing, but he had been on enough meetings, to know that what they were really doing was bickering.
The topic was once again the fast approaching independence of England, or New England as some called it. That was partly why he wasn't listening so carefully. Even now, a hundred years after the catastrophe, it still hurt to think of England.
His England, his Arthur. They had finally stopped dancing around each other and gotten together. Thirty eight years they spent as a couple before the tsunami came. And the wound of losing Arthur was still as fresh as it had been that day.
He winched as an extra loud voice protested the upcoming independence of England. Many of the politicians wanted America to claim England as a 51th state, even though the thought was ridiculous as it would be France that logically had the biggest right to claim the island. The French government had already voted to give the island its independence. It was an almost unanimous vote, and a new government was already forming amongst the settlers.
The British royal family, which had resided in Canada for the last century, was preparing to move back into their mother country. Really, the US government didn't have anything to say in the matter, and still the old fools had to quarrel about it. As soon as he thought that he sent an apologizing thought to his former government officials, but America thought most of them would have agreed with him, some of those in his current government were fools.
Beside, giving the New England independence had always been part of the plan. Since day zero when the last persons had managed to escape the sinking island, the plan was to let them return and rebuild their country… If only that would make Arthur return too.
He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and looked to the side, where his current president gave him an understanding smile.
He smiled weakly back, thanking her for all the support she gave him now that he needed it.
He once again tuned out the voices around him, as she rose up and called to order, silencing the protests.
Half an hour later the meeting ended and he went off in search for his brother.
Matthew had offered him to come to Canada and from there fly to England together with the British royalty.
The flight wasn't too long, but America still felt as if eons of time passed before the plane landed.
He spent most of the flight playing with the ten year old prince Edward, who was little brother to the future heir of the now reinstated British throne. He listened with half an ear as the small prince explained why his unicorn plushy was named Lancelot.
Just hearing the familiar British dialect brought back memories. The British royal family had worked to keep their familiar accent, perhaps just because of sentimentality, but many of the English refuges had followed their example, and America didn't know if he was happy or sad to soon be surrounded by people speaking like England used to.
Perhaps a bit of both he mused to himself.
The thing was that so far no new or old nation representative had appeared and it was now the common opinion between the nations that a new one would be born at the same time that New England got its independence.
Everyone was sad about it, for after the loss of England all the nations begun to appreciate each other more.
They had not lost anyone for centuries, and as times had been relativley peaceful since the Second World War, they had time to get to know one another.
Therefore the loose of anyone hit much harder than it had ever done before when most of them were still enemies.
But the shock of actually losing someone had made them fight harder to keep everyone else alive. It was only thanks to the new determination not to lose anyone else, that Iceland survived the Tsunami, which hit him about a day and a half after it hit England.
All the nations were closer than before, even Russia had become a bit more open, (but only a very little bit). And therefore, if a new nation was born in a few months when the final agreement would be signed, it might not be very well accepted. He or she would constantly be measured against their memories of the old England, and America knew, he would be the one most prone to judge.
Then the squeal of the small prince brought him out of his musings. Apparently the airplane personal thought to serve the royals ice cream before they landed in three hours. America accepted the chocolate cone with a small smile. The hero couldn't let his somber mood affect everyone else.
Walking through New London, brought a somewhat sad smile to America's lips. The humans had done a splendid job in repairing and recreating many of the old landmarks.
He and Canada was walking toward a small café where they had agreed to meet up with France, who had arrived two days ago by boat.
"It looks pretty similar, doesn't it?" Canada silently asked.
"Yes it does." America answered equally silent. But then he made an effort to shake the somber mood of him.
"Look, this street looks just like the street with the small café which served the best coffee. And round the corner is where I managed to make Arthur build a McDonald's…" he trailed off. Talking about how similar this London was to the old London did not help his mood at all. The whole city was amazingly similar to the old British capital, just built with modern technique and cleaner. The streets and houses had been built with the same style, following the old routes, and the New Thames ran through the city in almost the same place as the Old Thames had. It was hard for anyone who still remembered the old city not to feel nostalgic when walking through it.
The brothers fell into silence again.
They had walked down perhaps four more streets, when America saw him.
He stopped in the middle of the walk way, ram straight and eyes glued to the person that shouldn't be able to walk on the other side of the street.
Canada who had been trailing behind walked into him.
"Ouch! Alfred why did you stop like that!" He angrily exclaimed, but went silent when he saw the look on his twin's face.
America silently raised his hand and pointed to the oh so familiar but totally impossible person that was now walking further and further away from them.
Canada looked where he was pointing too.
"Ohh, Alfred. It is probably just someone who looks similar to him, I mean…" But he trailed of in the middle of the sentence. For the person who America's eyes were glued to stopped to wait for a traffic light, and while doing so turned, giving them both a clear look at his face.
"It can't be, how could it possibly be…" Canada whispered. America shook himself out of his shock induced stupor.
"Come on! Hurry, before we lose sight of him!" He took hold of Canada's arm and dragged the other blond after him.
They rushed out into the street, past the angrily toting vehicles and into the crowd on the other side, running as fast as they were able to. By the crossing, the lights turned green for foot walkers, and the person walked over. America swore and hurried on even faster, pushing unlucky passersby's out of his way. But before he managed to cross the street the light turned red again, and the cars whooshed by.
He stopped and swore, as a panting Canada caught up to him.
"Can you still see him?" asked the northern twin. America strained to look past all the people and caught sight of a green west, achingly familiar.
"Yes"
As soon as the cars stopped again, before the light had even turned green, they were off, pushing their way through the stream of people. They were unlucky, as even now a month before the signing of the documents giving England independence, millions of the new British citizens had begun to gather in London to celebrate the signing.
And as they reached the next crossing point, they had lost sight of the person they had been following.
"DAMMIT!" America shouted out, spinning round to try and catch a glimpse of a green vest and abnormally big eyebrows.
"Why! Why dammit." He sobbed, realizing he would never find the person he thought he saw.
A hand on his shoulder alerted him to Canada's presence.
"Come on, we have to get to the meeting place."
"No way am I going! Not before I find… I find…"
"Shh… It might have been someone else, someone who just looked like him…" Canada tried to comfort his brother.
"It wasn't any one else Matthew! I would recognize Iggy anywhere!" America angrily retoured.
"Yes, whoever it was had a startlingly resemblance to Arthur but still… "Canada sounded insecure. "Well, we can organize some kind of search. Bring in troops and have them search for him. The others will certainly help."
The hope and determination was slowly fading from America's eyes, and the sight was truly heartbreaking. He closed his eyes, covering them with his hand, as he felt them begin to sting.
Canada put an arm around his shoulder, leading him away.
A couple of streets down, Arthur was wondering if he really heard voices shouting after him.
France, was very reluctant to believe what Canada and America told him.
"Are you sure, mon fills?" he asked once again, and at their insistent nodding sighed.
"Yes! It was Iggy! I can swear it!"
"It is true papa. Whoever it was looked very similar to Arthur."
Francis still seemed doubtful.
"Well I guess we can try looking for him, to be on the safe side. But still…" he muttered, looking at America when he thought the other blond did not notice.
"Ah, l'amour, what a cruel mistress she can be." And he sighed again.
In the end, the other nations gave in to America's demands, and the streets of London was watched with careful eyes, everyone searching for the presumed dead nation, no one daring to hope.
But as two weeks passed and yet no one captured a glint of their dead comrade, most seemed ready to give up.
America and Japan was in one of the rebuilt parks, one England used to love, (they had rebuilt it to look as similar as possible using their memories of the place,) and Japan was trying to comfort his depressed friend, when they saw him again.
In the middle of a sentence Japan suddenly went quiet and stared with big unbelieving eyes out over a small decorative lake.
"Kiku what is it?" America asked when he noticed his friend's strange behavior.
"It can't be… But… it is him." Japan was in a daze.
"Huh?" America followed Japans gaze, and on the other side of the lake, too far to see clearly, a figure was bending over and looking at the roses that grew by the lake with a small smile. A familiar figure.
"Hey you!" America was up and running before he had time to think. He was running faster than ever before, over the grass and between the people in the park.
The figure lifted its head and looked up at the place where the shout had come from. Japan gasped, as his wide dark eyes meet confused green. He was still sitting on the bench, shock making him unable to move.
Those eyes, so like the eyes of his dead friend, but, it couldn't be.
The green eyed man looked at him for a few seconds, confusion evident as he tilted his head, seemingly concentrating on something, before shaking his head, and stood up to walk away. He was gone, disappearing into the forest behind him long before America reached him.
Week's passed, after the first elation from when Japan and America returned with news of what happened, the hope soon faded again. After all, in six weeks they had seen someone who looked like England only twice. And both times the one seeing him had either not gotten a good look from the front, or been to long away to confirm the identity. It was now three days until the signing of the papers that would make New England independent, and no matter how many men they had searching through the town, they had not seen even a glint of him.
Though the men had found something else. Not so surprisingly the biggest and most active terrorist group at the moment, had snuck a few of their men into the town to try and kill off the new British government.
Because of this, the signing had been moved into a secure place, and there would be no cameras in the room itself. Instead they had opted for a countdown, and then when the signing was complete, a firework show would go off. People were a bit unhappy with it, but accepted it to protect their still unsecure independence.
Everyone hoped they had managed to stop any possible tries when finding and capturing the small group, but they couldn't really be sure.
But this was not, what was on America's mind, as he sat with the other at the dinner table in their common dinner hall. His thoughts were on green eyes and bushy brows and that funny accent. He was the only one who had seen the might-be-Arthur more than once, and all others didn't really believe it was Arthur any more. Only Kiku and Matthew still believed, and they were beginning to doubt it to. Hell, even he doubted it now.
But he just couldn't give up the small sliver of hope he still had left. But the questions were piling up. If it was Arthur, he wouldn't have turned and walked away. If it was Arthur, wouldn't he already have searched out them? Not lead them on a wild goose chase through London? He would have come to America.
Wouldn't he?
Arthur was confused.
Twice now he had imagined someone calling for him. Someone whose voice stirred strange emotion's in him, and made his heart twist in his chest.
This time he had looked up, and seen someone, someone who seemed strangely familiar to. But not the one who shouted, that he was sure of. He had been on his way to greet the short dark haired foreigner, when his friends, the fairies, had told him to hurry and come into the forest. Confused he followed them, as they nervously lead him into the forest and into one of their sacred grooves, all the time throwing glance behind them and urging him to go faster.
When he asked them what was wrong, the only answer he got was that time wasn't right yet. Soon, soon they told him, he would understand, but till then he would have to trust them.
When he asked them how soon, they answered that before the moon had turned full twice, he would have his answer. The moon was three days from full. A moon turn and three days, was the longest he would have to wait, and he decided, that he would trust them with whatever they was hiding.
Days passed, he heard about the captured terrorists, about the changed plans for the signing. He felt… worried, even though he didn't know why, worried for someone who should be at the signing, and his thoughts turned to sky blue and gold.
As the day approached, the people grew more and more excited. The city filled with laughter and shouts, it was like a carnival. People opened small stands where they sold food, and toys, and both children and adults ran around happily, singing the tunes of the same song he heard in his dream.
Rule Britannia…
There were also flags in every street corner and hanging out of every window. Red, blue and white. And every time he saw the flags his heart sang louder.
Arthur felt their happiness; he too danced in the streets and sang the song, ate with strangers and talked to everyone. But as time passed, and the day got closer and closer, he also felt something else.
The closer it got to the day the stronger he could also feel a strange… pull. He felt as if something was constantly tugging him towards some unknown place, and the fairies encouraged him to follow it. Slowly he gravitated closer and closer to the newly built conference building, the location where the signing would take place.
Two days before the great day, the pull became too strong and too painful to ignore. He no longer felt content to just walk around the outside of the buildings wall's, and with the help of a couple of the fairies, who made him invisible to the cameras, and a few house gnomes, who shoved him the way to a tool shed which wasn't frequented often, he snuck onto the grounds.
Sleeping in the tool shed wasn't even uncomfortable because his friends made him a bed of leaves, and he stayed in there for a day, eating and drinking what his friends brought him. But the next day, the day before the signing, the pull returned stronger than before. This time he stubbornly ignored it. He wouldn't try to sneak in to the heavily guarded building, where security guards and cameras were all over.
The day of the signing came, and with its sunrise, came also an even stronger urge to enter the place. He gave in
Sneaking in was easier than he expected. Simply adorning the gardener clothes he found in the tool shed and walking out joining the other gardeners, was all he had to do to gain entry. His heart almost stopped when some of the guards stopped him, but after he had talked to them for a few minutes, they easily let him of.
He did not know it, but he was lucky that the guards were native Englishmen, and had not been part of the search for him.
He wandered into the building, and discarded the gardening uniform in a closet, wandering on in the clothes the fairies had spun for him so long ago.
He would probably have walked on, until the pull had dragged him to its source, if he had not been stopped on his way.
"Hey you! Where are your papers? You can't be in this part of the building without papers today!"
One of the guards that had come with the foreign leaders had seen him, and was now running towards him with a hand on his gun holster.
Arthur, feeling that now wasn't the best time to stop and explain the weird pull that lead him there, hightailed down the corridor away from the sound of running footsteps and shouts.
He had no idea where he was running, no idea where to go, and it was therefore completely accidently, and without him noticing, that whenever he choose to turn around one corner instead of another, he choose the direction that would bring him closer to the source of the pull.
On the other hand, the guards noticed it very well.
"He is heading towards the signing room. Someone intercept him in corridor 2d!"
"Roger!"
"Is anyone warning the squad leader in the room."
"Already done, sir!"
"Two men have arrived and is now blocking corridor 2d, sir!"
"Good, prepare for contact! Take him alive."
"Yes sir!"
Arthur had no idea what was going on, no idea about the ambush before him and would have walked (or ran as the case may be) into it if not a fairy had appeared on his shoulder to warn him.
"Arthur, they are waiting for you ahead! Get out of here!"
"How? They are behind me!" he managed to get out. The continuous running had made him loose his breath.
"The window after next turn. A tree grows outside and the dryad has promised to help you." Was her answer
And as she said, when he turned around next corner there was a window that a couple of fairies had already opened and now hovered beside.
"Hurry, hurry Arthur." They encouraged him. "Soon it will be time."
He didn't have time to wonder about their words, for he was already tumbling out of the window and into a tree that grew outside.
He scurried deeper into the tree crown, positioning himself on a sturdy branch. When he turned around he saw the fairies struggle to close the window from the inside. Four of them were standing on the handle to make it close, and it was just in time, for the security guards rounded the corner not a second later.
Luckily, it seemed the guards couldn't see the fairies, for they rushed past the seemingly innocent window and didn't look out at the tree, where Arthur was quite visible too anyone looking.
He held his breath praying they wouldn't come back, and at the same time wondering what to do now, as he was stuck in a tree several feet of the ground, and the tree had no branches lower than three meters above the ground. Jumping didn't sound like an all too good idea.
A giggle startled him out of his thought, and almost of his branch. Looking up, his gaze meet with that of a young woman with green hair and no shoes that happily balanced on one of the smaller branches. It took his jumbled mind a few second to re-boot before he realized that she was the dryad of the tree.
"Hello." She greeted him, giggling.
"Uhm, good afternoon?" he offered, for he still felt quite lost. Then he remembered his manners and hastily added "thank you for letting me hide here. Your tree is quite beautiful if I may say so."
"No biggie" she giggled and jumped to another branch.
"Uh, do you perhaps now of a way down from here? I am a bit stuck, since the fairies left the window closed." He tentatively asked her.
"Yup" she made a popping sound at the end "there is another window open two stories down, you can climb through there!"
"Thank you very much for you help. It was very nice of you to let me hide…" he trailed off. Saying it was nice of her to let him hide in her did not sound very good. She just giggled and jumped between the branches as he slowly climbed down to the open window.
"Bye-bye!" she called after him, and he waved at her from behind the window.
Turning around and taking a look at the new room he was in, he found that the room he had entered was a small closet filled with cleaning supplies. He slowly opened the door to see if the coast was clear. The room outside the closet was a kitchen.
Before he had time to wonder why there was a kitchen in the meeting building a loud voice interrupted his thoughts. In a deep part of his mind he silently mused if all the times he had been shocked by someone today would give him gray hair, but the fore front of his mind was all too busy getting worried he had been spotted by a guard to pay any attention.
"Hey you!" The same part of his mind also noted that this was the second time someone had addressed him that way.
"Yes! You in the closet. Don't think you can hide in there! Come out now!"
Briefly wondering if he could escape out into the tree again, but guessing he wouldn't be lucky two times, Arthur resigned to his fate and opened the door, focusing on the one shouting at him.
To his surprise it wasn't one of the guards, but instead a rather large man wearing a white apron and a chef hat. Well, he thought, finding a chef in a kitchen wasn't so surprising.
Before he had even taken a step out of the supply closet the man was on him.
"Thought you could slack of, didn't you! Thought you could hide in the closet and get away from work! Lazy bastard! We have so much to do today, what with the signing and all, that no one can take a break at all!"
He forcefully pushed Arthur into the kitchen and toward a table full of trays.
"Here!" he pushed a tray into Arthur's arms.
"Take this to meeting room 3 on the fourth floor. That's two levels up. They have requested more wine, a beer, ice cream and pasta. Bastards the lot of them, who asks for pasta or ice cream in a meeting!" the way he said ice cream made it clear he thought it an insult. Towards him or the general idea of ice cream at formal meeting was anyone's guess.
"But orders are orders, and all requests from room 3 are to be fulfilled immediately. While you are there you can ask them if they need anything more." He made a shooing gesture at Arthur.
Arthur who still was confused stood there a few seconds before hurrying towards the other door, moving between the other workers in the kitchen, tray still in his hands.
When looking at the other workers, he noticed that all persons carrying things in and out of the kitchen was wearing something similar to what he was wearing, a white dress shirt, black slacks and a green vest. Of course, no one else wore clothes spun by the fairies, who made their clothes un-stainable and extremely durable, hence why he could walk around in the same clothes for half a year without them getting dirty or worn. He would have to ask the fairies later if they knew something like this would happen when they made his clothes. He wouldn't be too surprised; fairies had a weird sense of humor.
He left the kitchen with the angry chef's shout in the back "Of you go, and no slacking!"
Carrying a tray with food and other stuff seemed to work just as well as carrying legitimate papers. None of the security guards even glanced his way, though, when he passed by the guard that had first noticed him he carefully kept the tray in between them and hid his face behind the glasses on top of it. He considered himself lucky, that the fairies had kept him of the cameras, or else he would have the whole building after him.
But now he was stuck with a tray he was supposed to deliver to some unknown meeting room. Fourth floor, didn't he say?
It was surprisingly easy to find the room. Arthur only ended up asking for direction once. To his great surprise he found the pull dragging him in exactly the direction he was heading towards. What, he pondered, was the chance that he would find himself set to deliver a tray to just the place he was pulled towards…
Rather big, since the fairies were involved.
He sighed.
America was sitting on the edge of his chair as all the nations read through their copy of the English independence document. Beside him, Canada nervously played with his polar bear and a couple of seats down France were tapping a pen against the table. They were all nervous.
This was the final phase of giving New England independence, and soon they would also finally know what would happen. Would their England return? Or would there be a New England, one who would always remind them of the friend they lost?
They knew that a couple of room and corridors away, the leaders of the modern world was also going over the same paper. They would also sign it, or rather another version of it. That version would then become the official one. The one put on museums and paraded around the world as the document which gave England back its independence.
But that was actually not true. The real document, the one that would mean something, was the one that held the signature of all the nations. This one was the one that would really matter. And this was also the one at biggest risk.
Times had changed rather much since the time the great wave hit England. Wars in the middle-east and in the south had forced the western, northern and eastern countries to unite for at least a moment.
Then when one of the bosses did a terrible mistake without listening to his nations warnings things changed. The leader of the Western, Northern and Eastern countries gathered together and formed an agreement. No matter how the land was governed, half of the deciding power would sit with the nations them self. They after all, knew what was best for them, and had more experience than any human.
It was thanks to this agreement that the allied nations could win the war in the middle-east. And since then the leaders of the nations had always listened to what the nations said.
And now that their choice could mean the birth of a new nation, or the rebirth of an old, the leaders had wisely decide that the decision would truly rest solely in the nations hands.
So, should more than a fifth of the gathered nations decide not to sign the document, it meant no independence for England. No chance to get Arthur back.
"So!"
America banged his hands in the table as he rose up, trying to hide his nervousness with his normal smile.
"Who wants to begin?" he looked around the table and rested his gaze on the one sitting only three chairs away.
"Russia?" everyone turned towards the cold giant. Russia and America was the leading world powers today, and if Russia said no, then the result would be bloody.
The tall man looked up with his child like smile in place, focusing purple eyes on America.
"This might bring back comrade Arthur, da?" America nodded.
"Then I will sign." Russia rose up and walked over to the end of the table. America took a few steps back to allow the giant to take his place by the document.
Everyone waited with baited breaths and as Russia once again rose, handing the pen to America, a sigh was felt all around the table and nations begun to converge around the document to sign it.
It was a rather long process, as everyone signed their names on it, but not all too much later only America himself had yet to sign it.
He bent down; letting his fingers brush over the worlds he had spent nights formulating the best way he could together with France and Canada, then further down, over the signatures of all the gathered nations, proclaiming the recognized England as a country once again.
"Please" he whispered, to whatever deity's there might exist "please bring him back."
And then he signed.
Nothing happened.
No bright lights or angel choruses, no nations appearing out of thin air, nothing.
He looked around, confused, something should have happened, at least the appearance of a new nation…
A wind appeared from nowhere and swept the paper away.
"Wha-?" America stupidly asked before throwing himself after the paper. Sadly he failed in catching it as his head made a rather painful collision with France's head.
"Catch that paper!" he shouted from his new place on the floor.
What followed would probably have looked comical to anyone else, but the nations were all too busy with trying to catch the evasive paper to really notice how funny they must have looked.
The paper seemed to have a mind of its own as it flew around in the room, always evading outstretched hands in the nick of time.
The only ones not joining in the chaos was Norway, who was sitting calmly at his place, carefully concealing his humor as he watched the paper with knowing eyes, Greece who had fallen asleep again after signing the paper and Japan who was sitting by Greece and trying to wake him.
No one heard the quiet knock from the door or the squeak of the hinges when someone opened it.
It ended when everyone ran around the table trying to catch the paper that had been fluttering around dangerously close to the windows, and it made an 180 degrees turn and flew over the table and right into the face of the person who stood in the open door.
All the nations froze in their previous position. Hunting a paper through a room with seemingly no wind wasn't really professional behavior and now it appeared that someone had seen them.
Then they really looked at the person appearing in the door, and froze further, if that was possible.
He was clad in a white dress shirt, green vest and black slacks, the standard uniform in the meeting building for some reason, and he was carrying a tray with some of the things they had asked for earlier so it would support the theory of someone on the staff.
He was short, not very short, but shorter than most grown men. They couldn't see his face, because the paper as mentioned had blown right into it, but the hair was messy dark blond. The skin they could see was pale, not unhealthy, but naturally pale.
Then a slender hand rose and plucked the paper from his face, looking down at it confused.
A small nose and a scowling mouth, giant eyebrows furrowed in confusion and green, green eyes.
England.
He looked up from the paper in his hand, eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before stopping on wide sky blue eyes.
"Alfred?"
Arthur wandered on towards the room he had been directed towards by a helpful cleaner.
He had just passed by a room with the number two printed in golden letters above it. On it had been a small sign proclaiming it the signing room. But surprisingly the pull continued to drag him forward, towards room number three.
The closer he got the more insistent seemed the tugging. It was a curious feeling, not in any way physical, more like a pull on his mind. The best way to describe it was like if someone had fastened a fishing hook in his metaphorical soul and was now hauling him in.
He soon reached a closed door, guarded by two guards. Nervously he approached.
"Uhm, I am supposed to deliver this tray to meeting room three." The way he said it was more like a question than a statement.
"Ahh, the daily pasta isn't it?" one asked knowingly.
"I don't know sir…" he trailed off. Was he supposed to know?
"Oh, I forgot! This is a newly built place, right, and all the staff is new too. The new government wanted natives to work here. Heh." He laughed. "You'll soon see that the council of nations doesn't hold meetings in the traditional way." He looked pityingly at Arthur.
"Yeah, I pity you. There is a rather big chance that since they will now recognize you, you will be forced to serve them every time they are here." The other guard shook his head.
"Uhm… " Arthur had no idea what was going on. The guards seemed to understand his dilemma and opened the door, beckoning for him to enter.
"Here you go. Straight forward here, you can't miss it, it is the only door. Any strange sound you hear is completely normal. Come out once they say you are done."
Before Arthur had time to say anything the two had closed the door behind him, and left him alone in a new corridor.
Confused he looked around himself. There was only a long straight corridor with a door in both end's, the one he came through, and the one in the other end with a big number three above it.
He also noted that the wall and door between the guards and this corridor seemed to be sound proof, because as soon as the door closed behind him, all noise from outside was cut off, and instead he could clearly hear something that sounded like mild chaos from the door on the other end of the corridor.
He took a slow step towards the door. Why did it feel like he was walking towards his doom?
'Calm down', he thought to himself, 'there is no reason to worry'. A loud crash from behind the ominous door seemed to want to dispute him.
Taking a huge gulp of air, as if to prepare himself to dive into a storming sea, he slowly begun to make his way to the door.
The walk seemed like fifty miles instead of fifteen meters.
Finally standing before the door, he slowly reached out and knocked on it.
No reaction.
Gathering his courage again, he knocked a little louder.
Still no reaction.
The tugging of the pull became harsher and he decided that if no one answered this time he would just open it.
He knocked for the third time, before slowly opening the door and taking a step forward so he stood in the doorway. The sight that meets him was not what he expected.
A long table stretched trough the whole length of the room. It was open and airy, and windows adorned two sides of it, making it quite light even without lamps. Around the table was place for about seventy persons, though at the moment only three of the seats were occupied.
Everyone else in the room was busy trying to catch a paper that to them was flying around in a wind that appeared from nowhere. Arthur just had the time to wonder why three fairies where playing tag with a paper and a bunch of some kind of officials, when the trio noticed him and did a 180 degrees turn coming zooming towards him over the table. They let go of the paper so that it fluttered down into his face, and for a few seconds he was all too surprised to react at all.
Then he reached out a hand and took the paper from off his face looking down at it confused.
The reaction was in no way sudden. It wasn't like a lightning strike or someone suddenly uncovering a piece of art. It wasn't startling, and it didn't suddenly make him into a new person. It was natural, like rain slowly falling down and covering an up to then empty surface. The puzzle pieces had been there the whole time and now he realized how they should be put together.
It just quietly settled down, and when he looked up from the paper, the first pair of eyes he searched for in the now familiar crowd was the oh so familiar sky blue.
"Alfred?"
The uttering of his name was very much said like a question, though he had no idea what he was asking. It was the way you say someone's name when you are just awakening form a long and complicated dream.
A moment of silence went by while everyone stared at the thought dead nation in the doorway.
A second moment went by when England (for now it truly was England that stood there) raised a massive eyebrow in question.
Snap!
Even though getting around the table would normal take at least ten seconds running, and that jumping over it should be impossible, America once again gave no care to the laws of physic and cleared the distance between him and England in less than two seconds.
England found himself in the tedious situation of holding the paper in one hand and the tray full with food and drinks in the other, while at the same time being crushed against a certain American's chest at least two feet over the ground.
"America you great doofus! Let me down!"
America just shook his head, which was still pressed against England's neck. No way in hell was he letting go.
A still shell shocked Japan rose from his chair and removed the tray from England with automatic movements as he continued to stare at his seemingly reborn friend.
The tray hit the table with a clang.
The sound seemed to be the waking signal for all the, until then, silent nations. Sound erupted all over the room, and there was a huge chaos as everyone rushed forward, eager to see for themselves that this really was England.
And it was, from the eyebrows too the green west down to the last toe.
Poor England would probably have been mobbed by the happy nations, had not America refused to let go of him even for a minute.
When they later sat down around the table, America stubbornly refused to let England go, so he ended up sitting in Americas lap. Not that England complained. Much.
Then begun the whole explaining thing. England told them about everything that had happened since he woke up underneath the roots of an ancient oak until the moment he walked through the door to the meeting room, still not knowing who he was.
The others of course listened eagerly, and just like always laughed when England mentioned the fairies and his other friends. But in his great joy England forgot to be angry at them.
In turn, the others told him about what had happened while he was gone, sleeping on the bottom of the sea until his land rose again from the depths. Canada happily promised England to present him to his new queen as soon as possible. England in turn expressed his great thanks to all who had housed his people while they were homeless.
But time must, like always, pass, even when you think there can't be enough of it and soon it was getting late and many begun expressing their want to return to their own rooms to sleep.
First went Finland and Sweden who had to put Sealand to bed. Lastly only Italy, Germany, Japan, France, Canada, America and England remained.
Finally Italy waved goodbye dragging Germany after him to their shared room. (Germany had given up trying to keep Italy out of his room years ago.)
Japan said a quiet goodbye to both of his friends and went off to his room where Greece had already fallen asleep.
France and Canada stayed with America and England a few moments more, just basking in the feeling of all four being together again. Then, they too departed, each to their own room.
America rose up, England still in his embrace, and carried him off to his room.
England tiredly let his head fall back against America's strong shoulder.
"I missed you." He mumbled into America's neck. "Even when I didn't remember anything, I still missed you."
"I missed you too." America murmured into England's hair. He transferred England's weight to one arm while he fished out his keys and opened the door with the other.
Shutting it behind him with his foot he walked over the bed and allowed both himself and his precious cargo to fall down onto the soft covers.
He raised his hand, trailing it down England's cheek, before cupping his face in both hands.
He could still almost not believe it was real. That England was there, by his side, real and alive. England let his hands wander over America's features, not being able to keep himself away any more than America.
He kissed him.
"I love you." He whispered. "I love you and I am back."
America kissed him back before clutching him close to his chest.
"Never leave again. Never." Was his whispered plea.
"Never." England agreed.
"Love you forever."
"Love you too"
They were silent for a moment, content in just holding each other.
"Sleep?" England questioned.
"Don' wanna." America almost whined. "I am afraid to wake up and realize this is a dream." He admitted.
"Ssh, love. I am here and I am not going anywhere." England reassured him. When America didn't react any other way than by tightening his grip he sighted.
"Let's at least change out of our clothes so we'll be more comfortable." He suggested. America was silent for a few more moments before nodding into England's shoulder.
They quickly changed out of their clothes and into pajamas (England took one of Alfred's t-shirts) before slipping under the covers and entwining with each other as much as they could.
They lay there in the darkness, whispering "love you's" and stroking the others face, all to make sure they were both real. At some point they did fall asleep.
And next morning was perhaps even better than last night. For they were still both there.
The end.
A/N: Joy! I have reached the end, and so have you. So now there will be the customary author's note.
This is actually the fist story I have ever finished. It was meant to be a rather short one-shot, but it ended up being 8 845 words long and I will probably make it a two shot. Sorry for all typos, but English is not my first language.
Sorry also for the confusion I might have caused if you couldn't understand the strange plot born in my brain. The plot bunnies have turned it up side down so everything is a little jumbled.
The idea is that England has been flooded by a tsunami, and the islands sunk into the ocean for perhaps hundred and fifty years before they begun to raise again. England the nation also sank with his country, going to sleep at the bottom of the sea, and then waking up when people begun to consider the risen England a country of its own. He still didn't remember anything, only the dreams he had of what had happened while he slept and a little of before. The magical creatures remembered him and helped him when he had just woken up. The way British native's reacted to him is my head canon for how people reacts to their nations, trusting them instinctually, and thus he easily fooled the English guards.
This story is also written in three separate bits. The first which is only England's p.o.v. is most mystic and rather hard for even me to understand. The second is America's p.o.v. in which I tried to write more directly what happened. The last part is once again England's p.o.v. where the most action happened. The fluffy ending I added later, because my inspiration ended earlier. I am a bit worried the three parts doesn't relate well to each other.
Oh, and I use the nations country names in the text and their human name when they talk to each other. England is Arthur until he remembers he is England again.
And sorry for th lenghty author's note.
Thank you.