Like always I own nothing but my little ones.
"This is a really bad idea." Sylvia looks on from the back seat of her father's green jeep at the two countries arguing a few feet away with little Alaska sitting proudly on Charlie's Harley, "I think he's just doing it out of spite."
Her brother smacks his pack of cigarettes against his palm out of habit, "Yeah I know but Hell Dad's going to be Dad." He pulls out one cigarette and lets it dangle from his lips, "Ain't nothing we can do about it and besides Alaska wouldn't fall off or he wouldn't do it."
"Oh I see now you're fatherly instincts leave you. Where was this lay back attitude during the meeting? I was so pissed at you I really wanted to shoot you in the leg." She watches on as England finally gives up yelling and starts walking back towards the Jeep shaking his head as America jumps on the bike.
Charlie looks back at his sister, "Wait? We were in New York…don't tell me you snuck you're pistol into his state!"
Folding her arms she just smiles, "Well it's a really dumb law and what he doesn't know wouldn't kill him. And besides I didn't sneak it in…I just never took it out of my pocket."
"God damn it Mara he could have had you're ass arrested!" He shakes his head and lights his smoke, the small flame lightening up his face in the light darkness "What is it with you two?" They both turn as England slides into his seat and he quickly changes the subject, "Dad does know what he's doing."
England just stares at the lite cigarette for a moment then back out as Alaska grabs tight to her father on the motorcycle smiling under a large helmet, "He's a damn Wanker and I don't know what the Hell he thinks he's doing." He waves away the smoke, "And what the Bloody Hell are you doing?!"
Charlie inhales slowly before putting the window down, "I needed a quick smoke." The three watch as America starts up the motorcycle all three almost scared to move as it slowly starts down the darkened open road, "Shit, this is fucking stupid. When's the last time he's been on my bike anyway?"
"Oh when you two thought you'd go messing with the blue eyed six." She lets a snicker slip out, "Like father like son."
He starts up the jeep shaking his head, "Damn Yankee tricked me. Bastard running around like a damn fool talking shit."
She now lets out a laugh, "Well you really showed him didn't you? Not even Jersey messes with ghosts…most of the time anyway."
They sit in the dark silence for a time watching America and Alaska from a safe distance before England breaks the awkward silence, "So you're afraid of ghosts too?"
"I ain't afraid of shit!" He brings the cigarette back to his lips and inhales the smoke slowly. He's wanted one since that micro nation made his little remark. 'What does that little kid know anyway? He's not really a nation either. I was almost a country myself and I'd inherit Dad's country if…' he forces the thought out of his mind; it's not something he should be thinking about end of story…and yet he does know all to well that their kind can die. A region, a historical landmark…a state, but if a country could die what about Ani or Chenoa? Wouldn't they have long since faded away? Even Prussia is still alive and kicking. And yet he can't get the thought out of his head, what if? Would he be able to take over in his father's place or more yet would they follow him?
Even in the darkness she can tell he's lost in a dark thought, she's always been able to read him since they were both little. His childhood was rocked when his mother left him alone to go back for England, and to tell the truth hers wasn't much better which might be why they were such a good pair. She would have strangled Maine or New York at the meeting and slapped Ohio in the first few minutes. And she knows well that he would have grabbed Jersey's curl in the first ten minutes and Jersey would have taken Fort Sumter threating to smash them.
She needs to pull him out of his funk before he got completely lost in thought. She hates it when he gets this quiet, an ounce of fear and concern in his emerald eyes tells her exactly what he's thinking so she acts fast, "Not afraid of anything huh? Well you ran pretty fast for someone not afraid."
"I wasn't afraid! I ran when everyone else ran, plain and simple." He looks up at her through the rearview mirror, "I ain't afraid of ghosts."
"Then why don't you ever go on a ghost tour? Georgia and Louisiana love them and I've been on one or two…come to think about it…" She starts quietly conjuring, she may not be the strongest witch but she remembers enough, "Except for Jersey and Tse none of you boys have been on one."
He looks back up at her for a moment then at the road, "Cause I don't want to…and knock it off whatever you're up too back there-" He stops eyes wide as the smoke from his cigarette grows a small pale face and winks at him. He hits the brakes and turns around, "That's not-Holy fucking Christ!" He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight in front of him; Sylvia's brown eyes have turned a bright icy blue and are shining out from the darkness along with what looks like three other sets just watching him. He's not sure where the rest of her face is let alone her body but he's out of the jeep in a split second choking on his cigarette nearly falling on his butt on the way down.
England's not sure what just happened as he watches the multiple blue eyes quickly fade away, "Uhh…what the hell was that?" Her laughter confirms a small hunch, "Magic?"
"Yeah, although I don't use it much, I'm not as good as Mass or Louisiana but I can still get the job done." She kneels over the center console smiling at her brother, "What was that… how'd you put it 'ain't scared of shit'?"
He's already up both hands wiping the dirt and ash off his dark blue jeans, "Oh you think you're funny you damn Yankee? Two can play this game just remember that." He slides back in avoiding eye contact with the other two and starting back down the road quickly catching up to their father and sister still slowly driving down the road, already he's plotting on how to get even.
"Mass please! He loves me I know it, don't let them hurt him!" Connie tries for the kitchen only for her sister to block the kitchen door where muffled shouts and cries are echoing out.
The fiery redhead shakes her head motioning towards the white couch, "But it's perfectly fine if he hurts you? How much sense does that make?" Connie's eyes dart away her hand gingerly touching a mark under her shirt sleeve, "Oh baby girl." She wants nothing more to hold her tight while that bastard gets his face caved in, but that wouldn't solve anything but maybe talking will, "Are you 'friends' here?"
The blonde blinks hard trying to avoid the oncoming tears, "He says they're not real a-and that I shouldn't talk to them anymore." She averts her eyes away from the couch and the small group of people sitting watching the states.
"Yeah that's not what I asked and they're real if you say they are." Her father had always called them imaginary friends and while some called it crazy nonsense, others embraced them and while Mass herself couldn't see them she could feel their presence. If she can't get through Mass knows they can, "What color is the wallpaper today?"
A woman slowly walking around the room with one hand always on the wall looks up through glassy fixed eyes, "Yellow."
Connie shifts her gaze again, "You know the answer. And…Don't change the subject. I gave them up." The tall state steals a glance at the woman making her way around the room muttering to herself, "I don't see them anymore, now can I see Dante?" Even to herself her words sound fake, she really doesn't want to see him and to be honest she's stopped loving him a long time ago if she ever really did.
A blonde woman sitting in a sharp clean dress shakes her head, "He doesn't care about you dearie that's not love…have we taught you nothing?" Three more women nod almost robotically.
"You all can shut up! He does love me!" She turns back towards the kitchen only to elude their warm eyes, "I don't have to prove anything to any of you."
Mass sighs knowing they're slowly making progress, she's always been a sweet innocent girl and to have anything bad happen in her state, Connie feels completely responsible, "No you don't, but what about you? Do you really love him or do you think you only deserve him?"
"What?"
"You heard you're sister." This time a brunette teen speaks up.
Connie inhales slowly hugging herself, "What if I was there..." She trails off.
Mass steps forward, "If you were there the only thing that would have changed is that we would have buried you too. It's hard baby girl. It hurts I know trust me I know, but we are a strong nation, we grieve then we start to heal. You need to stop blaming yourself; all you are is punishing yourself." Mass reaches out and embraces the girl running a hand over the sobbing girl's hair, "Talking helps, if not me…" She turns to the 'empty' couch, "At least some of them."
A slightly older man takes Connie by the hand, "He ain't a knight in shining armor, let alone a real man. I know chivalry is dead and all but still… you have us, Miss Connie." She's quick to notice the pistol resting on his hip he's prepared to do battle for her.
She thinks it over slowly, it's true and she's known it for a while now. She's been trying for the past few months to force herself to believe it but deep down she's always known it was wrong even without her 'friends' constantly in her ear telling her so. And last night was truly the last straw, she wanted to be there for her sister to be close but he forbidden it and when she tried to leave he hit her hard then tried to say it was her fault. That she can never forgive, to miss such an important event for such an asshole then for him to say it was her fault. 'Who the hell does he think he is? I'm the State of Connecticut God damn it.' A rare anger bubbles to the surface as she throws the door open. "Uncle!"
All three men look up; New York has Dante up against the wall with one hand pressed down on his collarbone the other curled into a fist while Canada looking on waiting for any sudden movement from the man. He turns towards her a sweet smile across his good-natured face, "Yes Connie?"
She turns towards her now ex-lover, hatred burning in her eyes for this man now cowering in fear, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground, "Would you kindly get him out of my house." She exits quickly before she can change her mind, dread settling in the pit of her stomach, "God what did I just do?"
"The first step…" Connie turns towards the calm voice confused, "It's not always yellow…but it's still a horrid color."
For once in a long time Connie lets a real smile cross her face, "Yeah I guess it is. Mass can I ask you something?"
"Oh course."
She looks at the mass of faces, "After I go see Georgia can you help me change the locks on the doors?"
A/N: Wow this took a while to finish, and man is it long but I'm happy with it. Now on to the note, the strange woman is from a short story called the Yellow Wallpaper and it is twisted…good but twisted really worth reading and the rest are from various stories set in Conn.
Originally this was going to be part of Another long night but at the last moment I changed it to Mass calling Sylvia instead, but I still wanted it told and not because it's how I see Connie cause it's not but it's actually a real problem in America and for it not to at least once affect one of his kids, one of his daughters…yeah I couldn't see it. And she's able to break away so easily is only because she is a state and she had a good support system.
So no flames please, leave flames for cooking s'mores. And remember s'mores aren't s'mores unless they got chocolate in them. ;3