I still don't own Hetalia.
America could hear cries of the four year old boy down stairs and he prepared for bed several hours after they found out that they would be stuck in England's Manor for another two days. The child had started to cry around dinner and his mother, Sara Tennison, America had finally found out, had taken him out of the Dining room to quite him. It hadn't worked.
Thanks to England's fully stocked pantry and kitchen they had been able to have dinner. This meal had been tense and quiet and very uncomfortable to the always chattering American. He knew that being loud was not the best option at the moment but he really hated tense silence. Or just silence at all.
"America? Are you still in there?" England's voice came through the bathroom door. America paused while brushing his teeth and made an affirmative noise. England opened the door and looked at him. "We need to make some plans for the next two days. Then we need to sleep. So are you done?"
America finished brushing his teeth and quickly walked into England's bedroom. He smiled as he looked at his lover who was sitting on his bed looking worryingly at a modern map of the area. On the rest of the bed there were older maps. He walked around the bed and wrapped his arms around England's waist. England sighed and leaned into the embrace. America pulled the map out of his grip and placed it next to him on top of another map dated to 1850.
"I don't like this America. This whole thing makes no sense." England said quietly. England shook his head back and forth as if to clear his thoughts.
America nodded. The situation was not making any sense to him either. "I don't like what's happening either, England. I know that you told the Civilians that your boss has no idea why this would happen. But we do know! They practically told us! Have you told your boss that they want us?"
England glared at him. "Of course I told him, idiot. But do you really want to tell the civilians that the people that attacked them are really after us?" England pointed to both of them. "Their own country and his lover? Who also happens to be a Country himself? I do not think so. So I lied to them."
America sighed. He hated keeping secrets. It was very difficult for him to do. He was the type to just say whatever entered his head. That's where some of his more... inventive ideas came from. It's also why he hated having the secret identities. He had to move so often the only house America had kept for most of his history was the one in Virginia. Right near D.C.
"Wouldn't it be easier if...?" America trailed off as England looked at him in disbelief as he caught what America wanted to say. England rapidly shook his head back and forth.
"If you are going to finish that with: 'if we told them who we are'; don't. You know that it would be a bad idea. It's always better for civilians not to know. They might leak it to the press or to someone that can do damage to us. Even if it's unintentional, they might." England moved out of America's embrace and walked across the room to pick up another map from the desk in the corner.
"I know that you hate to keep secrets from the people but this time we need too. With your mouth, it's a wonder that you had been able to keep things like the Manhattan project a secret." The Englishman shook his head in wonder. "I have been around longer and trust me this is preferable to them knowing."
America sighed and reluctantly nodded. "They are your civilians, Iggy. I will leave that choice up to you but I don't like it. They would trust more if we kept as few secrets as possible. Anyway, why are you pouring over maps? Don't you know this area like the back of your hand?"
England sighed. "I do but I'm trying to figure out why the enemy took the town if they wanted us. That is what I really don't like about this whole thing. There is no strategic reason to take the town. If they wanted to hold us hostage then why didn't they come here?" England ran his hand through his blonde hair. He made an irritated noise as he glared at the map. "This is the largest Manor for miles and the oldest. If they could figure out that we are in town then why didn't they come here first? It would have been easier for them."
The tall American shrugged. "Maybe they weren't sure if they were right. Or maybe they took the town just in case they could not get us. The Bastards might have wanted something out of it even if their main objective failed."
America moved next to England as he spoke. England made some marks on the map with a pencil that had been sitting on the desk. America realized that they were hedges that could be used as points for look outs. England stifled a yawn.
Although the situation was tough and probably more complicated then both of them wanted to realize, they needed to sleep and America has every intention to pulling England into bed. He grabbed England's hand and gently removed the pencil from his grip. "Iggy, we need to sleep."
"America, I was using that. We need to..." England began to protest but was cut off by America's kiss. They continued for a few minutes before America pulled back and smiled at the red faced England.
"What we need to do is get some sleep, Love. This will be here tomorrow. Tomorrow, we plan. Tonight, we sleep and rest." He walked England over to the bed and cleared off the maps left there. He then pulled England in with him. America wrapped his arms around England's waist again and said. "Sleep. We will need it for tomorrow."
England smiled tiredly at America and responded quietly with: "Why are you the responsible on right now?" Then he allowed himself to fall in the clutches of sleep.
Half of them were pressed against a wall in the first ally they had come to after leaving the bank. The other half of their fleeing group was across the street, safe in the next ally with all of England's guard. America glanced out and pulled his head back, England made a small gesture. He wanted to know if it was safe. America shook his head. He then made the sign for two guards passing.
They had invented this type of sign language during the Second World War. It had been useful during the Invasion of Normandy. (Ha Ha. That Frog had to be rescue. Again.)England never imagined that they would use them in this type of place, in this type of situation.
England nearly groaned. All they could hope was that no one saw them. As the two patrol guards came closer to where the party was hiding, England could hear what they were saying.
"-can't find them." A man. Actually, more of a boy, England knew that accent. It was one of his!
"Are they nowhere? Are we even sure that they are here?" Also male but this one spoke with an odd gruff tone. He was understandable but quiet.
"The boss says so. So they must. I trust the boss. He says we are looking for something unnatural and wrong. I hope that our weapons are enough. He says that the things that we are looking for have lived for a longtime." The English boy said.
"The Boss told me that they know people in the government. Or they work for the government." The gruff man said. At this point the men passed the ally entrance and all of the group held their breaths and did not move an inch.
After the men had moved away, England and America exchanged glances. Long living, in the government and in this very town, that sounds really familiar. Also some groups believed the Countries to be unnatural. Sadly, more than once has a group taken over a county politically and destroyed its representation and in turn destroying the nation itself. The latest being Somalia. There always be replacements for the destroyed Country but they will not be found until a new government has been put into place.
America nodded and gave the sign that the street was clear. The group ran across the street as if their lives depended on it. Because, well, they did.
The night had been long for one Matthew Booth (he preferred just Booth, don't call him by his given name, ever), America's lead escort. He hated the term Guard. That word implied that his charge could not care for himself. And Booth knew that was far from the truth. If the stories that Booth's father had told about his time in World War Two with the 82nd Airborne, then the man with the alias of Alfred F. Jones was one hell of a fighter. Not one to give up in a sticky situation either.
Booth knew that the man his Dad had remembered was the same as the one he was escorting. He had even asked Mr. Jones about his Dad once. Booth knew Mr. Jones' secret, his father did not. He will never call him America though. Should something happen to Booth, God forbid, then at least Mr. Jones will be left alone for the most part. His team knew too. All of the Secret Service knew.
For Booth the night had been very long. He and stayed in the Commutations room to monitor the camera feeds from around the large house. He sent his two remaining men out to patrol the house and the grounds. Both Palmer and Fenton had good heads on their shoulders and have handled this whole thing with as good as grace as could be expected. Booth knew that both his men had years to adapt to this thing kind of situation happening.
Not as much could be said for one of Mr. Kirkland's Escorts. He had almost freaked when they got to the manor and most of the adrenalin had worn off. The man was young, almost young enough to be called a boy. The other person in the room with Booth had calmed him down. His name was Roger Mustang; he was Mr. Kirkland's lead escort. Mustang and him and become friends in the years that they had been doing this together, this year was going on the tenth.
"Booth, 'as the president got in contact with 'ya yet?" Mustang's brogue startled Booth out of his thoughts. "And 'ear. Coff'e" Mustang handed Booth a hot cup of coffee. Already finishing off his own, he walked back to the pot that was already made, sitting on the corner table. "We need ta have Mr. Jones' boss call in. That would make me fe'l betta'."
Booth nodded. He sighed into his coffee. "Sadly, no Mr. President has yet to call us. One can hope that he will soon. Got anything from the teams? "
"Nope, nothin' new. White and Redson have seen some wild life but other than that nothin'. And your boys have seen nothin' too. Looks as if the Trait'rs have stayed in the town for now."
"Let us hope they stay that way. But as always..." Booth stood up and drained his cup of coffee. He walked over to the coffee and refilled his cup.
Mustang smirked and hid his eyes under his shaggy blond hair. "Alw'ys hope for the best but exp'ct the worst." He looked up and Booth saw the reason that they had become such good friends. Mustang's predatory grin matched his. They were not going to let anyone else die. Especially their charges.
Waking up sucked, America thought as he felt the sunrise. He had always been up with the sun. Even as a colony, whenever sun had hit his eastern shores he'd woken up with it. He had discovered that this also happened when he was in a foreign land. If there was sun on the land he was on then he was awake. America was lucky anyway, he could go back to sleep after waking up for the first time, and often did. But others like Japan, who called himself the land of the Rising Sun for a reason, could not.
But it still sucked. Here he was all warm and comfortable with England lying next to him completely asleep. He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into the sheets and tightened his grip on his lover. He wanted to go back to sleep back where he was happy and had just punched Russia for creepy. And North Korea for being communist. And being friends with Iran because she talked to him again. And he was not hiding in England's manor with a dozen of England's citizens because their town was attacked by these unnamed, unknown terrorists.
Wait.
America reprocessed that thought and groaned as he remembered what had happened yesterday. He twisted and flopped onto his back. He raised his hands to his face to rub at his eyes. He glared at the blurry canopy of England's bed. America knew that he would not go back to sleep now.
He slowly sat up as to not disturb England's slumber. America knew that he had a goofy grin plastered on his face. America loved waking up with England and just being able to watch the English man for a short while. Being countries made little things like this that most lovers take for granted a bit more difficult. He sometimes wished he could see this everyday but knew that he couldn't do that. Not even Austria and Hungary could do that when they were married. Countries had responsibilities that took precedence to personal things, like love and friendship.
As he got out of bed he felt a tug preventing him from fully getting up. America turned to look at the bed and saw England looking up at him beadily. "Do you know what time it is?"
America sat down and ran his fingers through England's soft sandy blond hair. "Sometime after sunrise, around sixish. I woke up and could not go back to sleep. I want to see if Boss-man called or if I can call him. You should get some more sleep. You were up pretty late last night." He smiled down at England, who was frowning at him cutely. Not that America would say that to him. Although England was not the British Empire he could still act like it sometimes.
"So were you," England retorted, "Now let me up. I'm going to make breakfast for everyone. Then we can get a concrete plan for tomorrow. My army must have a plan by now." England slowly pushed his way up and struggled out of bed. His pajamas and hair were a mess.
America grimaced; he was not going to let England cook for other people. Ever. That was the lesson he had learned a LONG time ago. He remembered a get together with both of their Ambassadors... No. That would not be a good Idea. He could stomach whatever his lover could come up with but most could not. The only reason that he could handle what came out of England's kitchen was because of years of practice. The poor civilians that were with them in the manor did not have that tolerance.
And America pitied them. Because once England got the desire to cook no one could stop him.
England left his bedroom and walked downstairs. He wanted to start breakfast but he had to see what he had in the kitchen's pantry first. But as he walked in to the kitchen he saw Sara Tennison, the mother of the family with her oldest daughter, a child whose name was Kate. She looked to be about nine or ten. Ms. Tennison already had some ingredients on the counter and was helping her daughter wash up so she could help.
"I see that you found my pantry?" he asked as he smiled at the scene. God, sometimes he missed having little colonies to watch run around and raise.
Ms. Tennison looked up and smiled apologetically. "If it's ok I would like to make breakfast for everyone. My kids won't eat anything but my breakfasts in the mornings. I thought that just making enough for my family would not be fair, Mr. Kirkland."
England said, "Go right ahead Ms. Tennison. Would you like some assistance? I can use a kitchen if need be, although I cannot say I'm a great cook." He picked some of the papers off of the counter and placed them on the kitchen table.
The older woman smiled, "Any help would be wonderful."
"Good morning, America. I can see that you are in good spirits for such a difficult time." The President said looking at him through the video conference screen of the Commutations room. America thought that Boss Obama looked more tired that he had ever seen him. America waved back and grinned.
"I'm always in good spirits! It's because I'm a hero!" America and his boss knew that he was lying about being fine. But America's boss like so many before him chose not to comment. Yet. "And this is my guard team on this trip!" America waved behind him at the three men that stood near the door. "Matthew Booth, Ron Palmer and Steven Fenton."
"I thought you went with four guards."
America looked up sadly and shook his head. The men behind him stiffened and Mr. Booth's fists curled. "I did, sir. But while leaving town Scott Brennen was shot and killed. Along with two others"
America's boss was still not as hardened to the death of someone as some of his previous bosses. Like Boss Johnson or the Bosses Roosevelt. It showed on his face. He frowned and gave his condolences sadly. He took every life lost personally, they always did that. America knew it would not be that way by the end of his Boss' first term. It never was.
"We will return for his body as soon as we can. I hope that is possible." Mr. Booth said. Brennen had been a Marine before joining the Secret Service and deserved a military burial. Booth was not going to let anything happen otherwise.
"If it is possible then it will be done." Obama's sad look was replaced with something serious. "I have some news to tell you, America. And then we will be discussing the situation as you understand it. Please tell me anything that you would think to be helpful."
Sorry this took nearly a month. ^^; I will try to get chapter 3 up in two weeks... And this chapter (and really this story) has a lot of head cannon. And its a transitional chapter...
I hope you enjoy.
