OOPS...
When I uploaded this chapter last night, I didn't realize that the Document Editor erased my formatting, so the dream sequence ran into the not-dream sequence! Guess I should have checked it first before publishing. *^_^*
CHAPTER 7:
Alfred said nothing, so the seconds passed without sound. He watched Arthur tense up as passing voices could be heard outside, but Arthur never broke his stare.
"So, like... you work for the government?"
"Well, yes, and no. You could say I work for the government, but I am also the government."
Alfred's eye twitched and he opened his mouth to reply, but bit the inside of his cheek instead.
"Okay, we're done here. Take me home." Alfred stood, sidestepping toward the door.
"Go home? Christ, Alfred. Have you forgotten you're bloody homeless?"
"Take me home to where my parents live. Mattie. God." Alfred grabbed Arthur by the front of the shirt in a panic. "What about Matthew? Is he safe?"
Alfred's hand was pulled away from Arthur's shirt. "Your brother is not in harm's way. He has no value."
"My brother is the most valuable person alive!" Alfred shoved Arthur hurriedly and began searching the room for the car keys.
"Bloody Hell. I just meant that he has no value to those wankers chasing you."
"You can't promise that. Ivan, or whatever-the-hell he is, was hanging around Mattie before I even met him."
"Only to try and get close to you. But now that you're in my care, that tactic won't work." Alfred could hear the jingle of car keys as Arthur waved them in the air for him to see before sticking them back in his pocket.
"Just give me the damn keys!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulder, jerking the smaller man back. Arthur flipped Alfred over his shoulder and onto the bed. Before Alfred could comprehend the situation, Arthur climbed on top of him, forcing his arms and legs down.
"Get off me!"
"Calm down, Git." Arthur sighed deeply and softened his voice. "Alfred, please calm down and listen to what I have to say."
Alfred stopped struggling, and glared at Arthur. This wasn't the first time that Alfred had found himself in this position with Arthur, and he wasn't too entirely fond of it.
"Alfred. Please... just hear me out. Everything will make sense to you."
Alfred only turned his head away and said nothing.
Arthur slowly lifted his weight off of Alfred and backed away as Alfred sat up, rubbing his hurting wrist.
"Well?"
"One moment. I have something." Arthur pulled open the dresser drawer and pulled out a small wooden box. He opened the box and tenderly pulled out a pocket mirror. "Here. I... I can't explain it properly, but I know a way for you to understand." Arthur handed him the mirror.
Alfred looked at Arthur incredulously, setting the mirror on the bed beside him. "Seriously? How's this going to help?"
"Git. Just look into the mirror."
"No."
"Bloody Christ. Belligerent must just be engrained into your DNA. I figured as a human, you'd at least listen to a little reason."
"Reason?" Alfred scoffed. "I've just spent like the last fucking month kidnapped and locked away, and you're telling me you're some kind of country or whatever. And I'M not being reasonable?"
Arthur turned his back to Alfred. "Okay. You're right, Alfred." Arthur turned around and sat back down. "Let me start over."
"This whole situation," Arthur choked, "is partially my fault." He sat down across from Alfred on the other bed, looking down at the mirror, and then back up at Alfred. "A very long time ago, Alfred, I was very lonely. I didn't want to be a country anymore. I was small and constantly pushed around. I used my powers to create a mirror that would change me into a human, but I was young at the time, and I didn't understand fully the dark magic I was using." Arthur glanced at the mirror in Alfred's hand. "Well, it was a dangerous item, and I should have destroyed it a long time ago." Arthur stood, putting his hands behind his back. "You somehow must have stumbled upon it during your visit to my home and accidentally set the mirror's magic off."
Alfred held up the small mirror. "So..." Alfred shook his head. "You're saying that this is some kind of magic mirror?"
"Well, it's not the original magic mirror. What you're holding is just a reproduction. It's relatively simple to make a magic mirror. Although, my magic power has been greatly limited by all of this mess."
"Uh-huh."
"But," Arthur clapped his hands together, "that little mirror still has enough magic to get you back some of your powers and memories. Only the original mirror that you used can completely reverse the effects of the spell, however."
"Uh-huh..."
"The universe is starting to set itself. As you can see, in less than half a year, you've already lost all of your memories and strength. If we don't find the mirror and reverse the spell, we'll all be stuck living as humans for the rest of our short lives."
Alfred looked toward the front door. He was 15 feet away from freedom. Now that he thought about it, he had been trapped in a basement for weeks, and he hadn't really gotten a chance to be outside. It was bizarre, though, because the world was still so frozen, and the time he spent locked away seemed so distant now, it was almost like that time had never happened. The more he dug into his memory of that time, the more his mind seemed to grow tired.
God, he was so worn down. He needed a shower, a real meal, and a good night's sleep. Maybe in the morning, he could process the things this crazy nutjob was saying, but now, the other man's voice was just a soothing lure into sleep.
"Alfred?" Alfred jolted as he felt a hand on his knee. Alfred glared at the man and pulled his leg away from Arthur's hand. "I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive. You've had a long day and need a rest." Alfred said nothing, but he couldn't hide the relief that washed over his face. "Okay, we'll continue this discussion in the morning."
Alfred nodded.
"Oh, I've got something for you." Arthur stood and moved over to the dresser, pulling a set of light clothes from one of the drawers.
"I got them in your old size, but you're a bit smaller than you were as America." Alfred looked over the shirt and pajama pant that Arthur had given him. If the situation didn't have the 'serial killer stalker' vibe to it, it would almost be endearing. Still, Alfred was done with arguing, and if he could get some sleep, he was all for that. Or, at the very least, he could pretend to sleep, and when Arthur also fell asleep (he had to at some point, right?), Alfred would sneak the car keys from his psychotic savior and slip away into the night. For now, though, he had to get Arthur off guard, and that meant playing along with the over-the-top crazy he had become victim to.
Alfred was unnerved by the pair of green eyes following his every move. He sure as hell wasn't going to change in front of his current captor, so he stood and awkwardly made his way to the bathroom. Alfred closed the door behind him and turned the lock. It felt nice to have some degree of privacy from Arthur, but Alfred wondered if there were cameras set up in here too. Alfred had grown numb to being constantly under surveillance. At first, the cameras had made him uncomfortable. He would only change clothes when the lights were fully off. Eventually though, he had just stopped caring. Alfred, although outgoing, had always been modest, so his attitude had surprised him. If anything positive had come from this ordeal, it was maybe that he didn't mind being watched. In fact, in a twisted way, he almost liked it. He wasn't doing anything wrong, and if someone wanted to pay attention to him, then let them. Alfred pressed a hand against his forehead as he looked at himself in the mirror. When had he become so twisted?
No, it was just because he was tired. Once he had escaped here, he'd drive far away and go into hiding. He would live off the grid, and nobody would be able to find him. He sighed and trailed his hand down his face and neck. He had grown gray and gaunt. He looked older, but in a troubled way.
Okay. So, Arthur was insane... but what if he was telling the truth? Alfred was America? How did that even work? Was he rich? Powerful? Evil? Did the whole world hate him? Had Alfred been to space? Overseas? Just how long would he live?
He snickered. If every one of his captors had been a country, it was like he had been around the world without even needing a freaking passport.
Alfred touched the mirror, and then remembered that he still had the tiny magic mirror that Arthur had given him. What if he just looked into it? What would it hurt? Arthur was crazy, right? Just a quick glimpse.
He held the pocket mirror up and looked into the smooth surface. The mirror was so small, that only a small part of his body was reflected back. He tilted the mirror up so he could look at his face. But wait...
Glasses?
Was that right? Alfred's reflection was wearing glasses! Alfred quickly set the mirror down and took a deep breath.
What the hell was that? Some kind of optical illusion? Alfred looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and touched his face where he had seen the glasses. He compulsively picked up the pocket mirror again and looked into it.
The longer he stared into his reflection, the more his thoughts seemed to flitter away. He was hypnotized, yet unsettled. A panic washed over him as he felt himself slipping away.
"Nooooo!" Alfred screamed as he fell forward, slamming into something hard. He winced and looked underneath him... or in front of him. He wasn't sure. It was as if gravity had its own agenda. He pushed himself up, or back, only to match the gaze of a man who looked almost identical to him. The man with glasses. The man who seemed larger than him somehow... fuller... stronger. Alfred, who had an identical twin was used to looking at his own face on another body, but this seemed different. He wasn't just looking at his alternate self, it was like he could see himself through the other man's eyes; weak, crumpled, faded.
Alfred reached his hand out, and the other man mirrored his movement. As their hands touched, the space between them seemed to crack, like broken glass. The pieces shattered, and the two Alfreds slammed into each other. Everything went black, and Alfred fell into nothingness.
.-.-.-.
"We shouldn't be doing this." England whispered, looking over his shoulder. He wasn't watching where he was going and tripped forward. America caught him easily by the back of his parka and yanked him back.
"Whoa there, England. Watch your step. There's all this nothing to trip over." America laughed as England pulled up his hood.
"I'm going back. This is ridiculous." England huffed as he turned to stomp back toward the base, but America caught his arm and tugged him along instead.
"Awww, England, don't be a spoil-sport. We do this all the time! It's totally fine!"
"Have you already forgotten about the incident several years ago in which Russia tried to KILL you? With a flare gun?"
"Pshaaaw... he was just celebratin' the new year. Dude, Russia fucking loves New Year's Eve. He just wanted some fireworks!"
"You seem to know a lot about Russia all of a sudden." England gloomed.
"Well DUH. He's my mortal enemy. I know EVERYTHING about him." England glanced quickly at America before turning his face back. It was hard to see England's expression because of all the protective layers, but America didn't really care anyway.
America and England dashed over to the side of the building where Alfred knocked on a dirtied, worn-looking door. After a few seconds, the door cracked open and a single, glowing purple eye peeked out from the dark within.
"Hey Dude!"
The door opened and Russia stepped back to let the two in.
America and England stepped into the dimly lit room, America a little more confidently than England. America held up the plastic bag full of food. Russia inspected the contents of the bag and then pulled out a snack cake.
"Vhat is this? This isn't food." Russia seemed to sniff it.
"Dude, it's totally food. Hey, if you don't like it, I'll take it back then. I have vodka back at McMurdo anyway." America reached for the bag, but Russia pulled it back and set it on a table.
"Da, da, da... I see there are other more edible things in bag." Russia picked up a bottle of vodka and handed it to America. "It would be nice for me if France or Italy was in Antarctica, and not you. Better food."
"Hey now, I'm here." England interjected, irritated. Russia only rolled his eyes.
"Da, my statement stands."
"Hey, Russia!" America's voice was unnecessarily high and excited. "What're you doing tonight? You wanna drink?"
"Sure." Russia grinned and grabbed the bag of food and another bottle. "We go somewhere warmer."
"Sweet!"
"America," England grabbed America's arm, trying to pull him aside. "This doesn't seem like a good idea." England leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I really don't want to drink with him." America waved him off and smiled.
"It's cool. We do this all the time." America walked off, leaving England to slowly follow behind.
That warmer place that Russia had talked about wasn't really that much warmer, but at least they were out of the Antarctic elements. America and England's base across the way really wasn't that much better either. Lake Vostok was in a precariously isolated and frigid location. Although America had spent most of his time in Antarctica at the McMurdo base, and sometimes the South Pole, he and England had recently formed a joint team to explore Lake Vostok, a lake hidden deep under thousands of feet of glacial ice.
"When you go back?" Russia leaned comfortably back into an old couch, pouring some of the vodka into a shot glass.
"In the next three weeks or so, I think." America took the shotglass full of the clear liquor. He poured the vodka down his throat as quickly as possible, coughing and wheezing into his sleeve. "Oh God, do you have chaser?"
"No." Russia smiled eerily as he handed a shot to England.
"Hmph. It would be going better if SOMEONE hadn't already compromised the integrity of the lake by using bloody ice-melt to drill down." England grumbled.
"The work I have done is unparalleled." Russia's eyes grew dark. "I was here long before either of you."
"Okaaaay, okay, you guys." America lifted the back of his hand to England's chest. "England, be cool. This is one of the only places where we can keep out the politics. We're all comrades here, right?"
Russia scoffed and then choked back another shot of vodka. "Comrades, no. But..." Russia wiped his mouth. "...I don't want to kill you as much."
"Hah! See?" America pat Russia heavily on the back, using a little more force than need be.
The three continued to drink, unaware of the passing time, all except for England, whose mood grew worse as the hours passed.
"Yeah, they split up Antarctica like a pie, but it's totally stupid, because I can claim it whenever I want. And what the hell is with Australia taking like half? He's like a giant desert, right?"
"Nyet, Antarctica is mine."
"Dude, you already have a bunch of snowy death land that you don't use."
"Shtop itsh, both of yous." England slurred, swinging the bottle of vodka while he tried to pour it unsuccessfully into the shot glass. Russia reached forward and tried to grab the bottle away from him, but England only pulled it back out of reach. "You two are liksh children."
"Ummm, England... maybe we should go back to base."
"No! Lishen to me when I'm shpeaking." England hiccuped. "I wash a world power onsch. Shomeday, you two won't be the top dogsh anymore. I shee you making the shame mistake I did. America, you're going to shuffer if you don't shtop." England began to tear up. "I don't want to shee you hurt like I was."
"Okaaay, England. I'm cuttin' you off." America leaned forward and tried to take the bottle away from England, but England slipped back onto the chair, holding the bottle just out of reach. America, drunk himself, climbed on top of England to better reach the bottle. As he tried to grab it, England lifted his head up to kiss America, but America pulled himself back, pushing England back down into the chair.
"Dude, what are you doing?"
"America." England looked like he was about to cry and then handed America the bottle. "Shometimes, I wish I had just used that damn mirror. Then, we could have been together. Just you and me, as humansh. No politicsh. We could think for ourshelfs instead of being puppetsh, based off popular opinions."
"Magic isn't real, England."
"I shtill have it, the mirror. I kept it, jusht in case."
"You're trashed. We're going back." America set the bottle down as he carefully stood, trying to balance himself in the spinning room. Russia stood solidly, considering the amount of alcohol consumed and pulled England up.
"Thanks Russia." America wrapped one of his arms around England. Although he had super-strength, he still found it troublesome to find his balance with a very-drunk country hanging on his shoulder.
"No problem." Russia smiled. "With luck, you fall down on ice and die on way back."
"But then who is going to feed you, you know, since your own bosses don't?"
Russia and America both laughed, slightly menacingly, as America and England stumbled out onto the Antarctic wasteland. The two bases weren't really that far apart, and the two made it back, safe and sound. The base was small. Really, it was just a few buildings. America entered their sleeping room and gently laid England down onto his bed.
"I'm shorry, America." England covered his eyes with his arm.
"Hnnn." America only sat down on his bed, kicking off his boots. He laid back, still in his parka, as the temperature, even in the summer, never really reached a reasonable degree. He turned over on his bed, with his back facing England, closing his eyes to shut out the spinning room.
America's relationship with England had always been a complicated one. As much as they didn't get along, they were still extremely close, as far as countries go, anyway. Their 'Special Relationship' had always been hard to define. England had raised him so America looked up to him as his 'Mother' country... or 'brother' as some of the other, older countries had termed it. But, even 'brother' was hard for him to understand, as many of the countries had much deeper relationships. France once tried to marry England. Finland and Sweden were dating, or something like that. Austria and Hungary were once married. There was Poland and Lithuania. And Germany and Italy... he wasn't sure what was going on with them.
But, every time England had made an advance, Alfred had pulled away. He wasn't even sure why. Was it his conservative politics or people? His prior isolationism? Did he just not see England as anything more than a close brother?
Really, America was everywhere, and busy with his own thoughts most of the time, so he never really thought about it.
This mirror that England had mentioned... thank God that magic wasn't real. The idea of not being a country... to be weak and powerless... it was revolting. He couldn't even wrap his mind around it. His breath grew slow and shallow, and America drifted into a deep sleep.
.-.-.-.
Alfred jerked awake, sitting up in bed. The room was dark. He was wearing the clothes that England had bought for him, but Alfred didn't remember changing into them. He pressed his hands into his eyes. An intense pain throbbed through his head, seeping down into the rest of his body.
"You're a large country, so there is a lot of information to process." England had been sitting in the dark, by the window. His legs were crossed, and his hands folded on top of his lap. "Are you okay?"
"What's going to happen to me? To all my memories?" Alfred reflected back on the words of his previous kidnappers. The tall humorless blonde had said something like 'you're going to kill us all', and now he knew what he meant.
England moved to sit beside Alfred. "This will be nothing more than a half-forgotten dream. I bet things will go back to just the way they were before. You'll be at my home, and we'll wake up late in the morning. I can make us breakfast."
Alfred grabbed onto the alarm clock, trying to steady his shaking hand.
"England..." England let a slight smile slide.
"You called me England."
"I hate your cooking."
England's mouth opened slightly, but before England could utter a word, Alfred had ripped the alarm clock out of the wall and smashed it against England's head where he had been shot earlier. England collapsed to the ground, and Alfred stepped over his trembling body.
"T-the hell?" England struggled to prop himself up.
"England, you're hurt. You're barely holding onto being a country."
"America?" Alfred picked up the tv, with an incredible strength he hadn't had before, and without saying a word, smashed it down over England's head, completely knocking him out. Alfred knelt down and pulled out the car keys out of England's pocket.
"When this is all over, and you're a human... maybe you'll forget this happened, and we can be friends."
Alfred hurriedly stuffed some of England's belongings into a cloth bag he found. He grabbed England's jacket and left the hotel room. According to England, it was only a matter of time before this universe became cemented. Alfred... America... whatever the hell he was now... was going to disappear until that happened.
Whew...
Okay, so we're at the end of 'Part 1'! Part 1 mostly focused around Alfred and the mystery of what was going on. In Part 2, we're going to concentrate more on where the mirror is, and whether the characters are going to stay human or go back to being countries. Although, I can't give too much away. So, stay tuned to this fic!
;)
