20th June, 1940; Saint Helier/St Hélyi, Jersey

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"You're going to stay?"

There was an incredulous note to England's voice that Jersey did not care for. Whilst it was true that she could not stop shaking, that she could barely keep her balance as her people's fear washed over her in vertiginous waves, she had confronted invasion before – and rather more recently than England, at that – and not quailed before it.

"Would you leave if it were your country facing this?" she asked, and although her voice wavered slightly, anger made it stronger than she had thought possible. "Your people?"

England's face, heretofore tinged pink by the heat of the summer sun and, undoubtedly, no small measure of his own anger, paled considerably and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. It was less than a month since Calais had been taken, less than a month since England and his brothers joined their men's desperate retreat across the Channel, and now the only shield he had against his own conquest was twenty-one miles of sea water. Even so, Jersey refused to apologise for her words, as she had not even that small measure of protection, and no troops to guard her shores since England's bosses had recalled their soldiers home, disbanded the militias, and exhorted her men to fight for King and a country which was not their own.

"No," he admitted eventually, "but –"

"But nothing, England. Did Belgium flee when she was overrun? Did France?"

At the mention of the second name, England's gaze flicked towards Scotland, who was standing a little distance away with Wales, watching the people who had assembled before the moored government boats, hoping to secure a place on them. His expression softened for an instant, but his scowl returned so quickly afterward that Jersey was almost inclined to think she had imagined the momentary change.

"No." This time, the word sounded even more grudging. "But since when was it a good idea to take cues from the frog?"

When Jersey had first joined with England's kingdom, the chattel of a forced marriage, she had found England's protectiveness towards her and her sister charming; romantic, even. It's attractiveness had waned considerably over the centuries, however, and had never felt so overbearing – so grating – as it did now.

"As long as even one of my people remains on this island, so will I," Jersey said, ignoring the petty swipe at her cousin. She had seen England shortly after his flight from Dunkirk, seen how gaunt and ashen his face was, how haunted his eyes were, and knew that the contempt was more likely reflexive rather than actually stemming from his habitual animosity toward the other nation. "And no matter how it may appear today," she swept her arm out in a gesture which encompassed both the crowds still gathering at the docks, and the cars clogging the roads approaching them, "some will stay."

She had no doubts that there would be more than England expected, as well. Her boss had given an impassioned speech in the Royal Square, appealing for calm and announcing that he and his wife had no intention of leaving, which had stirred those who listened into joining him in a fervent rendition of the national anthem. Although desperation and the possibility of evacuation had spurred many to abandon their houses, turn loose their animals and drain their bank accounts, she knew that some at least would dwell on his words and reconsider once the urgency of their panic had receded.

"Guernsey said the same thing, you know," England said, "though not quite so politely."

Jersey suspected 'not quite so politely' was something of an understatement, knowing her sister, and England might well have learnt some choice expressions that were new even to him during the process. "Did you really expect any different?" she asked.

England shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I had hoped, however."

"Even if all I can do is simply be here for my people, since your boss has decreed I cannot take up arms for them, then I must," Jersey said, stepping forward to clasp his shoulder. His muscles were rigid and unyielding beneath it.

England ducked out from beneath her hand, but instead of stepping away from her as he was wont to do more often than not, he unexpectedly pulled her into a close, albeit slightly clumsy, embrace instead. Jersey leant into the warmth of the contact, pressing her nose into the collar of his serge tunic. The scent of sea spray from his journey still lingered on the fabric, something which always brought England to mind whenever she smelt it. She'd always thought it suited him far better than any of the exotic perfumes and expensive colognes he'd dabbled with over the years.

"Jersey, I –" England began, but his voice roughened then cracked, leaving him spluttering incoherently for a time. "I'm just worried for you. For both of you," he finished in a hoarse whisper.

"I know, but it's my duty, England." Jersey threaded the fingers of one hand through his choppy hair and its coarse strands bristled against her palm. "Just as much as it's your duty to fight for your own people."

England's chest swelled as he took a deep breath, but whatever he was about to say in reply was interrupted by Scotland's loud, "Bloody hell, Jers, I wouldn't get that close if I were you; you don't know where he's been."

Jersey chuckled and slipped free of England's arms as he made angry sounds of protest at that, but was immediately caught up into a hug so tight that it crushed the air from her lungs and almost lifted her off her feet. Scotland released her before she had chance to attempt to catch her breath sufficiently to protest, however, one hand dropping to her elbow to steady her as they parted.

"You're not coming with us, are you?" he asked quietly, tracing a meaningless pattern against her upper arm with his thumb. "I told England you wouldn't, but he insisted he had to ask. And, well, you know what he's like when he gets a bee in his bonnet about something. With the way thing's are at the moment, I didn't have the energy to argue with him for very long."

He sounded apologetic, but as Jersey had had occasion to witness England's tenacity first hand on many occasions over the centuries, there was really nothing to forgive. Added to which, he looked so exhausted that she had no difficulty in believing that he had not had the resolve to be the irresistible force to his brother's immovable object as he usually was, attempting to wear down his defences in stubborn increments and the butting of too-hard-heads. His cheeks were sunken and the skin stretched over the unusually prominent bones of his face was sallow except below his eyes, where it was so dark that it bespoke something more insidious than a few nights of missed sleep.

Jersey thought she understood then why he had been avoiding her all morning, always finding other places to be, other tasks to occupy him whenever she approached. There was one subject alone that his brothers had always been chary of raising with him that he knew she was not.

"He can take care of himself," she said, resting her hand on top of Scotland's. She wished she could say that he would be fine – that he was fine; intractable and unbowed, fighting tooth and nail for what little might remain of his freedom since Paris had fallen – but the words would doubtless ring hollow as she could not even bring herself to believe them no matter how much she might wish it. "If the last war didn't break him, I can't imagine how this one could."

Scotland's eyes widened, and although their green seemed faded now, dull with fatigue, the focus of his gaze was still sharp as it met Jersey's. "Aye," he said, and then his lips clamped shut in a stiff line that clearly signalled that, no matter how he might be feeling, he had nothing more he wanted to say.

Jersey sighed, but did not pursue the matter. No matter how deeply he felt he had betrayed France, how much of a coward he believed himself to be – and Jersey knew him well enough to realise that he would – he wouldn't breathe a word of those, or any other anxieties, in front of England and Wales. Without words, all she could do was hope that the soft kiss she pressed to his cheek, the gentle squeeze of her hand, conveyed both her shared concern and her sympathy, and, perhaps, offered some small measure of reassurance.
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Notes:
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- Jersey was also invaded on the 6th January, 1781, by France. It wasn't very successful.

- Britain was in fact last invaded in 1797. By France. That wasn't very successful, either.

- The Channel Islands are considered the remnants of the Duchy of Normandy, and became possessions of the Crown when William II of Normandy invaded and conquered England, becoming William I of England. The rest of the monarch's lands in Normandy were lost in 1204, but the Channel Islands remained, and have been governed separately ever since.

- Although Churchill was against the idea, the Channel Islands were demilitarised to reduce civilian bloodshed in the event of invasion as it was not believed they could be held. The last troops left the islands on the 21st June.

- Civilian evacuation was announced on the 18th June, with priority given to women and children, and men between the ages of twenty and thirty-three who wanted to enlist in the British army.

- The evacuation of Dunkirk began on the 26th of May and some of the boats stopped off in the Channel Islands either instead of, or on their way to, England.

- Paris fell on the 14th of June, the armistice with Germany was signed on the 22nd June.