"I try to keep you sheltered from it but somehow it seems the harder I try to do that, the more it backfires on me. All the things growing up Daddy had to see, Daddy don't want you to see just as much as he did"
Britain leaned back in his chair. He brushed his palm over the velvet seat, his eyes roaming around the room. The soft pitter-patter of the rain outside soothed his emotions, the comforting fire adding to his high. He examined each picture, every book, even the little details of the wall. He forgot what had brought him to this. Images ran through his mind like a reel of memories, the good and bad. He dug his nails into the chair with the picture of Françoise Bonnefoy. He watched her deep purple dress sweep the dance floor, her light brown hair caress her neck in soft curls. Stuck in his memory, his hand reached out to touch her neck. Instead all he did was face the disappointment of air. He looked to a picture hanging on the wall. It was a small painting of his former colony and himself. America sat with an empty look as he stood above him, superiority in his eyes. The reel continued from the lovely French woman to the day he was faced with the hardest choice.
"you use to be great" the last words, America the colony, had spoken to him. They echoed in his mind, reaching to the far corners of the house. He saw himself fall to his knees sobbing. He allowed the excuse of pride say that he wouldn't let America go but it was a lie. All of it. The years spent nurturing him, comforting a child...all shot to hell. He had protected him. The hardships he had faced alone traumatized him to the point of rejecting the title "Big Brother". It was just a title. It meant nothing if he couldn't live up to it. Which he believed he did until...
Britain jumped from his seat. He dashed to the picture and ripped it from the wall. He launched it across the room, having the frame shatter on impact. His calming high collapsed. He ran over to the mantle and sweeped it clean of every knick-knack and picture. He turned and flipped the coffee table.
"Arthur! Darling, what's wrong?" her voice rang in his ears. He stumbled back, heaving. He looked around hoping to find the owner of the voice. He buried his face in his hands and tried to think.
"Arthur! Darling, what's wrong?" she stood in front of him with her lavender eyes filled with concern. She asked the question again. When he didn't answer she leaned forward and embraced him. His eyes shot open. She wasn't there. He was alone, standing his destruction.
"Britain...why won't you let me go?" he heard America ask. In his memory, he remained silent.
"Because I want to give you a better life...one that I never had. I just...I just want you to remain innocent, Alfred" he confessed to no one. For a moment all he saw was America. Now all colonies attacked his mind. Hong Kong, Seychelles, Canada, Sealand, all of them! Now, now that's alone, he realizes that he repeated his mistakes.
"I hate myself!" he cried aloud. He moved over to the bookshelves and pulled them down. He stormed to the kitchen. He threw objects across the room, breaking as much as he could. He took the microwave and threw it on the ground. The blender met the same fate. He paused for a moment. He shut his eyes to stop the tears from flowing. However, all he saw was darkness. Even when his opened all he was darkness. He dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom. He sat on his bed and sighed. In the privacy of his room he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability.
"Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright. Stiffen that upper lip up, little baby, I told ya, Daddy's here to hold your through the night. I know Mommy's not here right now and we don't know why, we feel how we feel inside. It may seem a little crazy, pretty baby, but I promise mama's gon' be alright"
True, Alfred was his child but...Matthew was his too. He loved them both with all his heart. At the meeting he saw the true scum of the world. Wars, hatred, death. It would be too much for any person. It would sometimes be too much for him. Yet somehow when he sang his sons to bed or when they wrestled and he had to pull them apart he saw the innocence and love that the world lacked. He brought the light into the life, and he wanted to protect them. Maybe it was selfish of him-no-it was selfish of him. And it was because of his selfish needs that he pushed his sons away. 'You stupid fool...you fool' he scolded himself.
He remembered once, he waited up that night for his wife to return to their home. The moon was getting higher and the fire was dying down. Instead of feeling worried, like any husband should be, his anger was growing inside him. She should be home. With him and their sons. What woman would abonden her family for days at a time. It's diffcult to maintain a happy home when a piece is missing. He heard the soft sobbing of child coming from the top of the stairs.
"Shh! Father will hear you!" he heard from Alfred. He knew it was him. Alfred wouldn't cry. He buried his face into his hands and sighed. Hearing his sons hurt while he couldn't do anything but sit back and wait for his wife crushed him. Is this wrong? Could he find a better future for his family? One without their mother? Yes. Yes, he could. He stood up and walked up the stairs. When his sons saw him they panicked. Alfred tried to pull his brother back to their room but stopped when he saw the sadness in his father's eyes. Britain gave them a soft smile and brought him to his room. The room that he shared with his wife but tonight would be diffrent.
"Father..." Matthew sniffed. He sat them on the bed and sighed.
"Stop crying Matthew. Please" he begged softly. Matthew wiped his nose on the sleeve of his white nightshirt.
"Where's mother? When she gonna be back?" Alfred asked. The question they asked each night. For a man who tried to act like he knew all the answers, he couldn't answer that one. He didn't know himself. How could he comfort his sons without lying?
"I don't know" he looked down and shook his head. He pulled Matthew into a loving hug.
"Don't cry. Please, don't. I don't know when your mother will be home but I'm here and I promise you both that I will never leave you. You will always be safe with me" he promised. Alfred looked away with blue eyes glistened over.
"Go ahead, Alfred. You can cry" Britain encouraged his stoic son.
"No. Heros don't cry" Alfred protested. Matthew squirmed out of Britain's hug and embraced his brother.
"I love you Alfred! I love you!" he cried. Alfred met eyes with Britain. He hugged his brother, knowing the future that was soon to come.
"I think it's time for us to go to bed" Britain crawled into bed with his sons cuddling close to him. "Stop crying. There's no need. I'll be here for the both of you"
Those days are over. It's time that he grew up. Be the man he tried to make his sons.
"And if you ask me to Daddy's gon' by you a mockingbird, I'mma give you the world. I'mma buy a diamond ring for you, I'mma sing for you, I'll do anything to see you smile. And if that mockingbird don't sing and that ring don't shine i'mma break that birdie's neck. I'll go back to the jewler who sold it to ya and make him eat every carat don't fuck with dad"
The next morning he looked at the desctruction of his house. He scolded himself for throwing such a temper tantrum. If only he was more like his sons. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this position. As he cleaned his home he heard the phone ringing. He paused his work to answer. Suprisingly he heard the voice of Matthew on the other line with the obnixious laughing of his brother in the background.
"Uh...Britain...I'm sorry for disturbing you but-" he began.
"No no, don't worry about it. It's good to hear from you Mattie" Britain interupted.
"Thank you but...Alfred and I were wondering if you would like to have lunch with us today" Mattie suggested.
"Tell him I forgot my wallet! So he has to pay!" he heard Alfred yell.
"Al! That's rude! I'll pay then!" Matthew whispered back.
"Great! Come on dad! I mean...uh...We'll be there soon Britain!" Alfred yelled before he hung up the phone. Dad...
As Britain changed his clothes he realized that even though his sons are all grown up his promise still stands. Nothing has changed.