"Hey, Britain! The tea's ready!"
Aruthur smiled. America had really become much more considerate since…his smile faltered and he habitually fingered his blindfold. No, he mustn't allow such thoughts to enter his mind, Alfred was just being kinder and more giving than usual. That was all. It certainly had no relation whatsoever to a certain mansion…
Realizing he'd not hold off the horrible memories for long, Arthur sighed. "Alright, America. Please bring it in," he called to his friend. Well, that had warded off the unwanted scenes for a few moments. Regrettably, though, not for very long.
After several moments, England heard America enter the room and sit down across from him. There came the sound of a cup being set in its saucer and getting gently passed across the table by means of sliding it. A brief silence ensued during which Arthur was forces to mentally relive some very painful experiences…
Finally, America broke the silence. "Hey, Arthur. You remember the time you told me, 'It's lonely outside,' what did you mean? Sorry if the question bothers you, I was just thinking-"
"Oh no," Britain made a shooing gesture with his right hand. "It's no trouble. What I meant to say was, well, when lost my sight, it was as though a door was shut in my face. Due to lack of new visual input, my mind plays again and again its most recent memories of sight as though to compensate for the loss of it. Almost like when you're up at night, scared, but when you close your eyes, your brain fabricates the images of a monster and you end up simply staring at the ceiling. It's sort of like that. Except I can never open my eyes again."
"Wow, England…I'm so sorry, dude. It's my fault. If there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, just let me know."
Again, his comment was waved off. "No, America. It's most certainly not your fault. After all, you did warn me, and it was my own poor judgment that caused this. Besides, you help me more than enough as it is. Ha, it's like a role-reversal where you're the older brother. I'm just a dead weight."
"No way, man. Don't talk like that. You're very important to us. And I need to help you out after I screwed things up. I was supposed to protect you, but instead you ended up getting hurt."
"Ah, yes. Speaking of which, do you know whether Francis and Matthew will be joining us for tea?"
A few seconds of silence ensued before America spoke again. "I asked them, but I think they're having their own bonding time over at Canada's place. You know, it's funny how familial connections suddenly became so much more important after…Well, you know what. The Incident. Like, we're always hanging out together, and Canada and France have reestablished their big-bro, little-bro relationship, and then Spain and Romano are pretty tight…The same even holds true for Japan. He and China are, like, actually bros again. Same with Russia and his sisters. Ironic, isn't it? That in order for us to come together, we must first be torn apart."
"Well, you know what I find truly amazing, Alfred?"
"What?"
"The fact that now you and Italy can read the atmosphere and how…well…mature you've gotten. I know that without the Incident, we would never have any conversation as deep and meaningful as this. The Mansion has…changed us all, I suppose. Will it last? Who knows? At least we've all gotten much less childish since then. Hopefully we'll remember the lessons we learned there, in the Mansion. I…truly hope that this state of world peace will last, but…"
"But what, England?"
"But I fear that it is not possible. Once a tragedy has passed far enough into the long-gone texts, we begin to forget the raw pain of the past. As a direct result of this, we are doomed to forever repeat history until the end of humanity."
"Woah, dude. Stop it; you're scaring me. Like, a lot. Gosh, this is just too much depressing talk for me. But I guess if this is really what you want to talk about, I will participate."
"I hardly want to force you to do anything, Alfred. If you don't want to talk about this, I respect that, and we can stop talking about it."
America, who had been growing increasingly tense as the conversation wore on, relaxed. England could tell this by the slow exhalation and the almost imperceptible creak of the chair, which showed him that his friend was sitting back into the chair. Ah, his hearing sure had improved since the accident. Or rather, he had come to rely on his sense of hearing more since the loss of his sight. The two of them sat there together for some time, quietly sipping their tea and enjoying the other's company. It was nice to know that they were not alone in the world. Never again.
The day dawned brightly, but with a slight chill to the air. America woke and stretched out. He was glad to know that Arthur was safely tucked away in the room next door. After all, it had been noticeably harder for him to go about his everyday life without his sight. And, although Alfred knew that England would be able to adapt, until then, he had to make life as easy as possible for his friend. America had resolved to make the transition from a normal life with sight to a relatively normal life without as easy as possible for England.
Despite Britain not being able to see, Alfred had also decided that he would not allow the Incident to rob his bro of the many beautiful things the world had to offer. It was autumn at his place, and it was the perfect time to go on a walk. Other than the brightly colored leaves, which England wouldn't be able to take note of anyways, there would be a cool, crisp breeze, as well as the scents that accompanied the season. Sure, spring and summer were nice, but fall was just…cozier somehow. Like all the animals were tucking themselves into their burrows and curling up for the long winter to come. The cold outside was kept at bay with the heat of fires, whose smoke could be detected on the breeze in slight bursts, making you stop and wonder if somebody was having hot apple cider, and doing something season like carving pumpkins.
For a moment, he just lay in his bed, contemplating the many changes that he had undergone during the Mansion Incident. He realized that now, he was more able to notice the smaller details of life, and that each day was magical. Yes, life was a blessing. It was as fragile as glass, and beautiful as a diamond. Indeed, things had changed. But some things never would. Like the bond he and England shared. That would never change, he was sure of it. Somehow, the Incident had made things much more…permanent. Relationships between the nations would be built to last now.
But he did not have much time to simply dwell on this. And so, he slowly got up, made his bed, and began to prepare for the day. First, he took a shower and then brushed his teeth. America then proceeded to wake up Arthur, only telling him that they were going somewhere special soon, and that he'd better get up. Fortunately, Britain was fairly used to his house, having spent the last fortnight there, and so Alfred was confident that his friend would be able to prepare for the day with no problems.
America began heating up some apple cider with the Crockpot, on low, so that when they returned from their walk, the cider would be ready to drink. Then, he began to attend to the need of breakfast. But what to make? In the end, Alfred decided to make pancakes and bacon, with maple syrup, since it just seemed like an autumn dish. He couldn't help but think, "Wow, Matty would be proud." It made him happy to think that Canada was at home and safe, with France to help him cope with all the mind-screwing from the Mansion.
No, don't think about that, he told himself. Just make breakfast. Britain came down just as America was serving the food onto the plates. The timing was so impeccable, but Alfred wondered why he even bothered to notice. Perhaps it's just this once, he thought. Then again, he had been taking everything more…seriously, lately. He sighed quietly, then immediately wished he hadn't. Arthur would hear and then start worrying about him needlessly. His point was proven not a moment after the thought had formed.
"America, is something bothering you?" asked England, who had seated himself at the table and had begun to eat. Alfred sat down opposite him and took a moment to think. Was something? Well, sure. Lots of things were bothering him. First of all, England was blind, and it was his fault. On top of that, he couldn't fix it. In addition to the rest of the stress from Steve's Mansion, there were still his normal duties to attend to. He felt as though he'd bitten off just a little more than he could chew. But was any of this worth bringing up to England? Probably not. After all, they'd already had numerous discussions on the topic. Giving in to his desire to glean more comfort from such conversations would just be selfish.
"No, not really. I've just been thinking, you know? We're all so busy these days, trying regain our sense of selves…But it's sort of an individual journey we've all got to take, right? So, nothing really important, I guess. I mean, nothing you or Russia or Japan isn't going through right now too."
"Yes, I see what you mean. It has gotten quite lonely since we've all started retreating into ourselves. I suppose that's only natural, though. We're all going through the stages of grieving and loss, just at an exceptionally large level. So, yes, I suppose it's only natural. By the by, what is this mysterious 'special' place you mentioned earlier this morning?"
"You'll know when we get there. For now, just eat your breakfast so we can get there faster, 'kay, dude?"
"Well…I suppose you are in charge of this."
Alfred watched Arthur eat. He seemed to be deep in thought, although one could never really tell without seeing the look in someone's eyes. Which, in this case, had a blindfold over them. Dammit, this train of thought was making him sad. That wasn't the point of the day! The point was to cheer them both up and give each of them a sense of calmness or contentedness for the first time since leaving the messed up Mansion behind. But that was in the past, and it was painful. Best to focus on the future for the time being. Hopefully, this would be therapeutic for them both, and could give them renewed vigor to continue on.
As soon as Arthur had finished his meal, America quickly cleaned up the plates and got England his scarf and jacket. It wasn't overly cold at this time of year, but it didrequire at least a light jacket.
"So, dude. You ready to go on a walk?"
"Of course, I am America. Just who do you think I am that you think I can't handle that?"
The two countries headed outside, England with his walking stick and America with his hand resting lightly on his friend's arm, should he happen to trip. The cool air stung slightly at first, but soon became a more pleasant feeling. They walked in silence for a while, giving Alfred unwanted time to reflect on his life, his personality…everything, really. Whereas before, this silence would have been unbearable, and thus he would have saturated the air with pointless noise, this type of amicable silence had become the norm. In fact, this silence almost seemed to sustain many of the nations. In a weird way, this silence was like a prescription drug. Get a certain amount of hours of silence a day, and you'd feel better. Too much or too little was just depressing.
America also reflected on how pointless he'd been before. He'd blurt out what he'd thought, without any consideration of other's feelings. And now, well, he'd been forced to "grow up" in a way in a very short amount of time. Thinking back on previous conversations the countries had had with each other, Alfred realized just how lackadaisical they had been, with no real meaning or substance. They were like fruit flies, buzzing around quickly and recklessly and fading away just as fast. Now, though-now-the countries only spoke only out of necessity, whether for the the need to create alliances or for therapeutic reasons. At any rate, the quality of their conversations had gone up, whilst the amount of conversations actually held had dropped dramatically. It was a fair trade, really.
It was at this moment that Britain broke the silence. "So, Alfred…has Tony come back yet? Has he called?" Taken by surprise, America's steps faltered. Ironically, England helped him keep his balance. Talk about the blind leading the blind. The two were just blind in different ways.
"W-well no, but I'm sure he'll call soon. Or come back. I mean, he can't be dead, can he?" They both knew the answer to the question, so they both knew how pointless it was. Wishing or asking or begging wouldn't change anything. And, yeah, it's sometimes just better to move on. In some cases, dwelling on the past only hindered your recovery. And so America would not let it win. He would not give Steven-that bastard-the satisfaction that his influence had had a lasting negative impact on the world. No, he would not allow it to win. And so that is how he had determined that the best way to do this would be to live a full, fulfilling life in a world stronger for the hardships they had endured. That was his ultimate goal in life now. Funny how things got thrown into perspective when tragedy struck, like a switch had been flicked on. Or off.
"Hey, America, wasn't it rather surprising when we found out that Tony and Steve were related?"
"Ha, yeah, it was. It's just…Tony's so nice, and Steve's so evil, and…it just didn't make all that much sense except that they mildly resemble one another. But Tony looks so much smaller and younger than Steve."
"So, Alfred. Do you think Tony's doing alright?"
"You mean after he cut a deal with his psychopathic relative? I hope so, but one never knows, does he? It's best to fear the worst and then be happily surprised when the opposite is true. Otherwise, you're just setting yourself up for disappointment."
"I quite agree with you."
Another, briefer silence ensued, during which both mulled over the possibilities of Tony making it back to them.
"Anyways, Tony is, or was, my bro, and I'm glad I got to know him. He's funny and smart, and I don't know, I just didn't have friends. It was nice to have and unconditional friend, unlike what we countries normally do. Friendship for profit. Love for profit. I'm sick and tired of it all, Britain. I want something more, something better. I want a life. A real life, not just running around in circles with the other nations. Believe me, we've all been trapped in delusions for I don't know how long. More money, more jobs, better economy, money, money, money, resources, resources, resources. It's all pointless. When it comes down to it, the quality of your life lies in what friends you had, what bonds you forged, and what you were like as a person. I plan to begin my journey now. My journey towards a good life. A meaningful one. And I'll definitely need you by my side when I embark on this journey. What do you say? Will you be there?"
"Oh, America. You know the answer to that. You're my best friend, and I will never let you down. I'll be with you, Alfred. I'll be with you always."
"And I will never leave you behind. I'll lift you up so you can feel the sun on your face, the wind above the trees, and so that you will always reach the highest mountain peak."
"Since when did you become a poet, Alfred?"
"Since just now." The two chuckled quietly as the strolled through a path in an apple orchard, the branches reaching upwards as though to brush the heavens. The blue of the sky was somewhat lonely, but Alfred had Arthur, so that was not to be a problem.
After walking for some time in complete silence, America told Britain that this was the place-his special place.
"What does it look like?" inquired Arthur, who was wondering whether the only special thing about this place was what it looked like.
"It looks like a lot of grass," America replied, his tone almost regretful.
"And what, exactly, does this grass look like?"
"Special. This scene, if I tell you where we are, will already be in your mind. You won't be left out in the cold. I won't allow it." The last bit was said teasingly, but they both knew what Alfred was referencing.
Together they sat peacefully in the chilly fall air, with their faces pointed upwards, as though to catch a precious drop of sunlight that could, at any moment, fall from the sun. After some time, the silence was once again cracked. "America, where exactly are we?"
At this, Alfred smiled. It was one of his first true smiles since the Incident. "You should be quite familiar with it, actually. It's the perfect place for us. So, where do you think we are?"
Several moments passed before Britain finally spoke again. "So, just how special is this place, America? Come one, I want to know."
Alfred leaned back some more for a better view of the clouds and whispered, in an almost wistful way, "It's as special as you can get. You give up yet?"
An amused smirk grew on England's face. "Well, Alfred. I've figured your mystery place out. But I don't want to guess. I want you to tell me. After all, failed guesses only detract from the magic of the moment."
America laughed. "Well, I suppose so," he replied. "But then how will I know if you're telling the truth?"
"Don't you trust me, Alfred?" England asked with mock indignation.
"Of course I do, dude. Trust me. I was just messing with ya."
"So, where are we?"
At this point, the joking atmosphere that had begun to develop dissipated, only to be replaced with a more solemn sort of feel. Alfred stared upwards for a long while before replying. "It's the field, Britain. It's the field where you found me, and promised to be my older brother, my guardian, my friend, my world. It's the place where we first met."
A/N: I'm not even going to bother editing this. It's old and awful anyways.