Extra Notes | Written for this past Fourth of July. Broken up into several parts because the accompanying historical explanations take up quite a bit of room. Can't guarantee 100% historical accuracy here, either. Not USUK. Recommended listening: "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons.

{ 1783 } The Treaty of Paris

The glory of gaining his independence has dimmed considerably since the surrender that informally ended the war, and America can think about nothing but a cold, rainy day before that. He still wonders why England didn't shoot him; after all, doesn't England hate him? But he can't, he cried, and rarely has America ever seen England moved to such emotion. But how could he not hate America when America beat him? England does not take losing well, he never has, and this was more than losing a war. America is so confused, doesn't know how he can both celebrate and mourn and worry all at the same time, and he doesn't know why he finds it so hard to hate England even after all that England did to him.

Hate or not? That is the question.

He can't tell, not even when England is right before him. The older nation is incredibly tense; America can see it in the way he stands, much too rigid even for him, with all his muscles coiled and tight. But there is nothing of Arthur, absolutely nothing of anything in England's face. He is so controlled that he makes America nervous, and America almost wishes that France and Spain had not exited the room for this one last thing.

he hates me he hates me he hates me

Does it matter? America is free now; he never has to care about what England says again. He is not England's little brother anymore, and he still remembers the wonderful feeling of liberation and snapping threads he felt with the creation and signing of the Declaration, that document that he reveres so deeply. He can still taste freedom, so sweet and new and strange and glorious, and he knows that he is his own person and his own nation now, no matter how hard the road threatens to be.

How then, can he experience that and yet still, on some level, long for England to even look at him the way America knows him best?

"Well?" England snaps and drags America from his thoughts. "Is it to your liking?"

America's face darkens, and he draws himself up just a little more. Two can play the same game, and it doesn't matter how conflicted America feels on the inside - that is Alfred, and right now he needs to be America alone, representing the people who fought so hard to free him. He nods once. "It's fine," he says, and it is. He isn't going to push anything more in regards to their agreement, because he's learned a little of what makes England tick, and it is still rather unnerving to be confronted with an England who is so emotionless.

Now all that's left is the acknowledgement, something America has been both yearning for and dreading. It is the very last link, the one that America can only feel faintly, but it is still there, standing in the way of the absolute freedom he wants so badly. His hands are trembling ever so slightly with anticipation. He wonders what it's going to feel like.

"Do you acknowledge me as my own nation?" he asks.

He hadn't thought it possible, but England becomes even more impassive. The few seconds between America's question and the all-important answer are slow and painful; he can feel them crawl by.

And then, "I do," comes out somewhere between an angry statement and a whisper, and America feels that last thread snap, unraveling between them. It isn't like the Declaration or the surrender; it's quieter and does not demand attention, but he is riveted all the same. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly, still shaking. A small smile dances across his face, and when he opens his eyes, he sees a brief scowl cross England's. Because it is as much a relief to finally garner a reaction as it is to be free of his once older brother, America lets his smile widen and finds shameful satisfaction in the fact that England is unable to regain his earlier composure.

"Are we done here?" England demands, and America nods again.

"We are," he says shortly. "Go back home." This last comes out brief and harsh and not like he intended, but neither of them has been able to speak civilly to the other for a long time.

England's eyes narrow, and it seems like there is something more he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns on his heel and stalks away, never once sparing a backward glance. America watches him, and the brief vindictive feeling that overcame him starts to recede. Once again, the side of him that is Alfred wants to have a say, and two words very nearly slide from his mouth.

big brother

But he won't say it, he won't call England back, because England is no longer that to him and to pretend otherwise is to fool himself. It doesn't matter what America thought he saw, doesn't matter that he could have sworn he glimpsed pain and confusion just like his own in those green eyes.

Their bonds are broken, and that's just the way it is.

Ben finds him there still, in that sparsely decorated room away from all politics and people, the place outside of written treaties and signatures that made final the break between America and England, regardless of ratification. America is standing there listlessly, listening to the wind outside the window. He only stirs when Ben's hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" the man asks softly, concerned.

America sighs and lifts his head, turning around to face his friend. "I will be," he says and immediately changes tune. "Let's go have a quick drink. We should celebrate, right?" He puts on a smile and attempts to gently tug Ben out the door to do just that, but Ben sees right through it. He always has.

"You don't have to," Ben says. "I can't pretend to understand how this feels for you, but you don't have to feign anything for me, Alfred."

America returns the earlier gesture and places a hand briefly on Ben's shoulder in gratitude. "I know that," he said. "But I need to move on, don't I? I'm happy, I really am. C'mon, let's go find Jay and Adams and have a drink." He smiles again and leaves the room, and Ben follows slowly, pondering the young man, the entity that is the United States of America, and that smile that would appear entirely genuine to anyone else.

{ 1794 } The Jay Treaty

It's been ten years since America's seen that face, ten years that he's had to build his own identity away from that of his once-brother's, and he wonders what he's supposed to feel. Ten years isn't long, particularly not for a new nation; he's seen over a hundred and fifty himself, just as a colony. And even that isn't long compared to the face that confronts him, that he hasn't seen personally in ten years, that he wishes would show even a little emotion.

Still... all he can feel right now is resentment.

"You must see that siding with France won't benefit you," England says, all business and propriety and rigidity, with a face that still won't show emotion even though it's been ten years. "I'm still your most lucrative trading partner, and neither of us wants that to change. Am I correct?"

He's always liked delivering veiled threats. He's always fighting with France, too. America sighs to himself. He can feel a headache pulsing, courtesy of the political division between his people. Some favor France; others favor England. As for Alfred, well... he doesn't know what to think or who to favor. He can't let his personal feelings interfere in his decisions, not when he's still so young as his own nation, and he only wants what's best for his people. But things are so damn confusing sometimes, and America has always put at least some faith in his own emotions.

The only reason England has come to visit him is to prevent him from siding with France. That stings, but he pushes it aside, shoves that particular piece of resentment into a corner of his mind. Instead, he latches on to a real reason for anger, something that has riled his people up, the thing that pisses him off the most.

"That's rich, coming from you," he says; there's no way he's going to leave this subject quiet, not when England comes with these demands and expects to be treated with respect. Respect, his ass. "You've been taking my citizens against their will into your damn Navy! You bastard - that's an act of war all on its own!"

"If you want war, you'll have it," England says bluntly, deathly cold and serious.

It's empty on both sides. England's reason for coming is to avoid having another opponent like America. And America - as much as he hates to admit it, even to himself, he isn't ready for another war with England. He knows exactly what he can get out of a treaty with England, and the most important thing is time. If war with England is to come, he needs time to become stronger.

And though he'll never, ever say it out loud, if America has to make a bet between England and France... all of his money goes on England.

"I want you out of my territory," he says abruptly. "Your soldiers have been occupying areas around the Great Lakes, and I want them gone."

"Done," says England, narrowing his eyes. "Anything else?"

"You better make damn sure you win your war."

"That would be easier with a little more economic support."

"Fine. I'll mention that to my boss."

"Is that it?"

"The impressments... I want them to stop. Now."

"Impossible," England says shortly, and his glare cuts off America's immediate protests. "Are you the one fighting France? I think not."

America is seething. It's amazing how easily England can rile him right now. He wants nothing more than to punch the smug bastard in the face for the injustices done to his people, but he controls himself. He has to think about what's best for the rest of his people, personal feelings aside.

War hasto wait... at least until he is ready.

"Done," he says and hates it.

"Done."

And that's that. Sometimes it amazes him how easily they can say a few words, when their people feel the need to spell things out in intricate detail and play games with pretty sentences. But while humans can more easily bring together politics and country with their own emotions, their own relationships, nations cannot.

It doesn't matter what a nation personally feels. All that matters is what's best.

And so, beneath all that resentment and anger, America wonders why it is so painful to watch England leave again, to watch that back that never once turns around once it's completed its business. Because that's all America is to England - business, because in the end, emotions aren't worth a damn.

Historical Notes |

The Treaty of Paris:
The Treaty of Paris in 1783 formally ended the American Revolution and recognized the United States as an independent country away from Britain. In case you didn't realize it, the 'Ben' Alfred is talking to is Benjamin Franklin, who was one of the people present at the signing of the treaty. I imagine he and Alfred would have been good friends. The Jay and Adams mentioned are John Jay and John Adams, the two other Americans also present.

The Jay Treaty:
When Britain went to war with France, there was also tension between Britain and America over several issues, including the impressments of American sailors into the Royal Navy and some disputes left over from the Treaty of Paris. The Jay Treaty was signed so that war would not take place. Britain did not want America siding with France at that time. America wanted more normal trade relations with Britain, wanted the British out of territory around the Great Lakes, and knew that they were not economically or militarily ready for another war with Britain. America also wanted impressments to stop, but did not get Britain to agree to that. Also, Americans were politically divided about the Jay Treaty; Federalists favored Britain and Jeffersonians favored France. Most historians agree that the Jay Treaty only postponed war between America and Britain for ten years.