"Well? Didn't I tell you, sweetheart? It was the invasion of the century. Troops stormed onto the beach from all sides! The Germans had no chance!" America exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. He seemed unnaturally happy for a guy with fresh bruises.
Seated beside him on the couch, Vietnam had listened intently for the whole of his retelling and chose this moment to comment. "But Vichy is still here?" she asked, her brow crinkled.
"France is now back to his normal self in Europe, but Vichy is still in control here, in Indochina. I'm sorry, darling. It's still a double occupation," America explained, his tone regretful.
Vietnam let out a breath. "I had a feeling the news was too good to be true. Well, on the bright side, it can't be like this for long. Something's bound to change this far into the war. I mean, you clearly did very well. Japan looked genuinely frightened," she admitted. "Just keep winning."
She said this with such trust, such belief, that America's heart did a cartwheel. He beamed at her rare praise as he tried to remember how to speak.
"Ah—of course. Anyway, I've dropped by to tell you that a couple of countries and I need to discuss post-war plans about Southeast Asia. Nations only. Naturally, I've invited you. France is gonna be there, but whenever he steps foot in Indochina, he reverts to his Vichy counterpart, because that's who's in charge here. So the meeting's gotta be at China's place, in a week. You can sneak into nearby countries without your owner's consent, right? Think you can make it?"
"Definitely," said Vietnam, straightening with determination. "We can convince them that I should be freed!"
"I'll be on your side, sugar," he said with a wink.
Vietnam rolled her eyes. "France'll be furious if he hears you call me those idiotic pet names. Please don't be stupid."
"I'll restrain myself, honey. Can't I get it out of my system beforehand, though?"
"Absolutely not," Vietnam said, punching his arm. He pouted.
He's an obnoxious flirt but a good friend, she thought. Vietnam knew that if he was more like the latter, she could finally stand on her own, irrevocably independent.
When told that the meeting would discuss plans for French and English colonies, China exclaimed, "Ai ya! I will not sit for hours listening to white men bicker. I have better things to do." And apparently that thing was cooking, for the rattling of a lid on a pot could be heard in the humid, peach-colored room next to China's kitchen. There, France, England, America, and Vietnam sat around a rectangular table.
America cleared his throat. "Well, men," he said, addressing the two Europeans, "Through close cooperation we have gotten this far in the war, and we are finally at the home stretch of winning this shebang! What's important now is to plan our actions after the victory with thoughtfulness and care. Now's serious thinking time to consider what we will do with our territorial possessions."
"Obviously," England commented.
"If Vietnam is here, then why aren't other colonies here too?" France asked, raising a brow. "Why only her?"
The Brit gave America a sidelong smirk that did not help France's suspicion. America chuckled nervously, requesting that the meeting should begin.
Vietnam rolled her eyes at America's weak answer. "I represent colonies like me," she spoke up. "I believe that my opinions are the same as many like me. I oppose Japan and so do you, so naturally my voice should be heard. Unless you really care that little about your colonies, France," she ended venomously.
"Ah, I haven't complained that you were here, cherie. I was just wondering," France winked, and she rolled her eyes again.
"Not only that, but the future of Indochina is a pressing matter that's gotta be discussed," Amerirca added. "Plus, Vietnam has been a great help against Japan." He decided to get straight to the point. "Men, in the Atlantic Charter, Roosevelt has called for the self-determination of all people. I believe this with all my heart, and I urge you to follow through with the goal. The end of this war will be the start of a fresh, free world!" His blue eyes sparkled.
"You're asking us to give away all of our stuff? If we win?" England asked.
"The humiliation!" France complained. "I refuse!"
"C'mon, guys, this isn't all about you."
"Touché, America! Why should we be forced to follow your fantasy idea?"
"It's not a fantasy idea; it's a humane one," Vietnam retorted. America nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "You imperialists have mistreated your colonies for far too long. Your hold is dying. You need to let go."
"I fought for Indochina! It is rightfully mine!" France cried. "It is my choice alone what I will do with it. If you want more lenience; why not? But free you? Gemme, you are mine and always have been."
"Lies," Vietnam hissed.
"Hey!" America jumped back into the conversation, feeling the need to defend her. "You've had Indochina for nearly a century! Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia are worse off than they were at the beginning! You've milked their people for one hundred years. They are entitled to more than that."
"Shut up, America; Indochina has nothing to do with you!" France said furiously.
"Yeah, whose side are you on?" England demanded.
America brooded, hating the rejection.
"You can't take me back," Vietnam said. "I will fight you if you do."
"And I will fight back."
She scoffed. "You're a weakling. Just look at yourself! The only reason you're alive is because you've been playing for the right team, letting others protect you. How will you beat me if you couldn't even defend your own country?"
A chord was struck in France. "Don't act so cocky, you little bitch!" he shouted, spit flying from his lips. "Don't forget what you were like a century ago."
Vietnam's pupils shrank. "Don't you dare…"
"'Oh, France! J'etaime, j'etaime!'" France wailed in a high falsetto. "You were completely smitten with me!"
America's jaw dropped. "What!? You mean…you two…"
"You were blinded by idiocy; taking you was simple! Even now you lean on another white man, like a crutch!"—he shot a look at the aghast American—"How could you possibly expect to become independent when you are so incompetent, so stupid, so easy to fool..."
Vietnam lunged across the table and sunk her nails into the Frenchman's cheeks, making him shout. "Don't talk about that! Don't ever talk about that!" she shrieked. He cried out in French, which she retorted to in Vietnamese. The two languages overlapped each other in chaotic cacophony as they screamed their throats raw.
England, who had been rather dispassionate about the discussion thus far, leapt from his chair at Vietnam's attack. "What do you think you're doing?" he roared, shoving Vietnam back into her chair. This roused America from his shock.
"Don't touch her!" he yelled.
"Oh, shut up, America," England said. Vietnam's chest heaved as she tried to regain her breath. England looked down at her with disgust. "I can tell this is your daughter, Francis; no manners whatsoever. During a conference, of all moments!"
"I am not his daughter," Vietnam said hotly.
"Of course you're not, pute, otherwise the thoughts running in your head would be incest—"
"Save it for someone who cares, frog!" England barked. "Vietnam—you are forbidden to speak as of now. I did not come here to stand this barbaric behavior. And if you have anything against that, America, I'll throw both of you out of here."
America closed his mouth and looked apologetically at Vietnam. She did not react. England turned to the others and coaxed them into talking about other Asian plans, like India, avoiding the Indochina issue at the moment. Vietnam sat rigidly in her chair and darted out of the room when the end of the meeting was announced. America got up to follow her, when a hand grabbed roughly at the back of his collar.
"Don't. Don't you dare," England warned.
"What's your problem?" America demanded, shoving him away.
"You are part of the Allies. Do you understand me? Your priority is us, not this petulant, moody colony—"
"Don't talk about Kim like that!"
England jabbed a finger in his face. "Your dream for a free world will! Not! Happen! We have all made up our minds about this, America; it's you who needs to decide what you're going to do after this war. Because what you can't do is help her. You can't free France with one hand and ruin his empire with the other. It doesn't make any fucking sense!"
"You said you'd help me!" America shouted. "You said you'd see what you could do! You—" The words stopped in his throat when he saw France watching, arms calmly crossed over his chest. "You're just gonna let this geezer fight your battles?"
"Believe me, America; I will fight for my colonies by myself if I am forced to. But I could not say England's words better myself. You cannot help her."
America bit his lip, feeling trapped. There was no way he could convince his ally, France, to give in, yet he had promised to save Vietnam. Suddenly, an idea sprouted in his mind.
"A trusteeship!"
"What?"
"An international trusteeship. You say Indochina's not ready to be free? Then the United Nations will take care of her until she is. Gradual freedom."
"Non. Absolutely not. Indochina is mine, it's my right!"
"England?"
The green-eyed nation shrugged. "Doesn't sound too bad to me." America bounded out of the room, leaving England and France to bicker, and burst into the kitchen, where China was gorging himself with dumplings.
"China!"
"What?" the ancient country asked with a mouth full of food.
"Would you like to have temporary control of Vietnam? It'd be part of a trusteeship! I don't want her to go back to France."
China chewed for a minute, then swallowed. "Under no circumstances. She is not Chinese. The Vietnamese would not assimilate into the Chinese people."
"But—"
"It took roughly two thousand years, but Vietnam did teach me a lesson," the Asian interrupted. "One that I don't intend to ignore." With that, he popped another dumpling in his mouth, dismissing the younger nation.
America didn't let this frustrate him. He would find a way to make this work. He had to. He had to rescue his girl.
"You could have just told me, you know."
Vietnam was sitting at a French vanity table, her hair laid loosely on one shoulder, a comb in hand. She looked up, alarmed, at the angry American standing in the doorway of her room. "What?"
"You know what I am talking about," he accused.
"No, actually, I don't." Annoyed when he said nothing, Vietnam said, "This isn't one of the drama movies you have at home."
"I'm talking about you and France."
The wooden brush clacked loudly as she set it down. "I don't like talking about it."
"Well, we're talking about it now. Why didn't you tell me?"
She turned around in her seat to glare at him. "What, you think you're entitled to know everything about me?"
"That's exactly what I think. I'm your friend! Your protector!"
"So what? Everybody thinks they have some sort of claim on me. I am so sick of that!" Her vicious words cut through the tense air, and she saw America's blue orbs widen. She lowered her head, veiling her face with a curtain of black hair. She felt so frustrated - frustrated that she had been caged for so long, frustrated that she had hurt and yelled at her friend. "All I want is to be free," she said in a tiny voice. "Why is that so hard to get?"
America softened instantly. "You will get it, Viet. Eventually. I've been working day and night to try to arrange a trusteeship for you."
She rose slowly from her chair. "What did you just say?"
"A trusteeship."
"A trusteeship!?" she spat. "I don't want to be babysat, America! You know how much I hate being ruled by two people, no more! What is wrong with you?" She advanced upon him, scrutinizing him. "Do you think I can't take of myself? Have those Europeans brainwashed you? I thought you were on my side." She suddenly recoiled. "Or…is this a way to own me? That is disgusting."
"It's none of those things! France refuses to free you, so a trusteeship is the only way!" America protested.
"And I refuse anything but complete independence. Maybe France was right about me being easy to fool. I thought you were my friend!"
Alfred staggered back. He would have found it more merciful if she stabbed him in the chest. "What! After everything I've done for you?"
She said nothing. She wouldn't look at him.
"You—you know how I feel about you. If you told me about France earlier, your rejections would be easier to take!"
She laughed harshly. "You think I don't want to date you because of my girly, lingering feelings for France?"
"W-well you seemed so upset when he mentioned it—"
"Wrong. The reason I keep rejecting you is because you keep acting like I'm your porcelain doll!" And she slammed the door in his face.
"I don't get it," said America with a frown. He squinted in the bright Pacific sun as he sat beside the Philippines, their walls against the mud wall of a hut. Her fingers moved quickly as she assembled a gun. Philippines hmmed in false interest as America handed her another piece of the weapon. "I mean, I told her that I was trying to work out a trusteeship for her. Yet she still kicked me out." America rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.
"Did she say anything else?"
"Yeah. She said that she doesn't like me because I treat her like my porcelain doll. Which I don't get." He frowned. "What am I doing wrong?"
For the first time during the retelling of his ordeal, Philippines glanced up from her work. "What are you doing wrong? Vietnam told you exactly what you're doing wrong. You are being too protective!"
"T-too protective? How is that bad?" America wailed.
"It's one step from possessive. The girl said so herself—all she wants is independence, which I can totally relate to. The last thing she wants is to have someone owning her…and yet you declared how you were planning to have a whole group of world powers watching over her. It would freak anybody out."
It took a moment for America to absorb this. "That makes sense. Damn—I shouldn't have said anything about the trusteeship."
"Are you saying that you're still going to work on it?"
"I have to." At her disapproving look, he sighed. "I don't want to, but this is political, not emotional. And politically, I can't see any other way of Vietnam getting independence. I think she will warm to the idea. But…I have been treating her the wrong way, and I am going to change that, I swear. No more of this 'doll' business. I can't stand the fact that she hates me."
"Ah, I wouldn't say that she hates you."
"What do you mean?"
"She's furious at you now, of course. But before that, perhaps your possessiveness was the only thing in the way of her agreeing to date you. Perhaps she was confused about her feelings towards you. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You think that she likes me! Why? What do you know? Did she tell you something?"
Philippines outright snorted. "Oh yeah. Papa Japan lets us chat and mingle all the time."
"Really? What did she say about me?" America said, shocked.
She rolled her eyes. "America. Sarcasm, remember?"
"Ohh."
The girl was suddenly very interested in her gun. "If you really want to know," she said. "If Vietnam is anything like me—and we do seem to have our similarities—then she must think that you are cute. At least. And you and her didn't go to war."
The last piece of the gun snapped into place. Philippines stood and placed it into a basket filled with other weapons, which she then covered with a cloth. She glanced sideways at the world superpower, who stared at her with a shocked, open-mouthed expression. He slowly grinned. "You think...?"
"Thought," the island corrected fiercely, lifting the basket to her hip. "Even though I gave you insight on your girl problem today, America, let me remind you of something." She locked him in a meaningful gaze and said only, "July 6th, 1946."
America nodded solemnly. "I know. Thanks, Phil" he added as she left. Her dark brown hair swayed loosely around her shoulders as she walked away with the disguised basket. There was a time when he was so mesmerized by the wave of that hair and the Spanish lilt of her voice that he blew Spain out of the water and shoved an annexation treaty in her face. Those days were over. America had a different girl on his heart.
When Vietnam opened the door, the only thing she saw, at first, were two arms wrapped around a huge wooden crate. A sandy strand of hair poked up from behind it. She could, however, hear America's grin, when he greeted, "Hi, Vietnam, it's me!"
I'm really sure this isn't normal, thought Vietnam as the American tried to get the box through and bumped into the narrow doorway several times. She retreated quickly as he somehow squeezed through and swaggered into the kitchen, carrying the behemoth as if it was nothing.
She glanced at the new scratches in the wood doorframe, and then flinched at the sound of the crate slamming onto the ground.
"America? Wh-what's all this?"
"Supplies! Guns. For you! And there's a lot more a'comin'. I'm thinking that I should start teaching you how to use these bad boys! If you'd like me to, of course," America added hastily.
Vietnam smiled. "You want to teach me personally?"
"Of course, Viet. You'll need to shoot a lot of jerks if you're going to be independent. And you will," Alfred said firmly. "You will be independent. I promise. I believe in you."
Vietnam had to stop herself from grinning too wide—for once Jones wasn't being a flirtatious moron. "Can we start now?" she asked, excitement creeping into her voice.
Thus the awkward gap between these two was mended by a day of shooting.
Historical Notes:
The Atlantic Charter mentioned briefly by America was a set up goals set up by Churchill and Roosevelt back in 1941. It indeed said that "all people have the right to self-determination," though Churchill was not a fan.
There are a coupla quotes I used in this chapter! One notable one is that China said: "Under no circumstances. She is not Chinese. The Vietnamese would not assimilate into the Chinese people," actually said by Chiang Kai-shek (I edited it obviously) when asked by the United States about temporary control of Viet.
The Philippines has an fascinating history that has many parallels to Vietnam's, I think. I am crossing my fingers for an official character design one day, but here is my attempt at an OC. She is awesome and helped America during the war despite Japanese occupation. The date she mentioned, July 4th, 1946, was the day America promised to grant her independence. However, this promise was made before the world was plunged into war. Will America still be able to maintain it?
A/N:
Whew, long chapter! I was getting tired of the short ones, to be honest. Hope that you guys can really sink your teeth into this one.
Firstly I must apologize to the readers who have been following this fic for a long time, because originally I wrote that Vietnam reveals her previous relationship with France back in chapter five. I changed it because I felt like it was very out of character for her to reveal something so haunting right on the first date. Er, dinner.
But I like this revision much better! It certainly sets up a lot of drama and will definitely be expanded on in future chapters. What do you guys think? :)
School has sucked up all of my free time recently so I bet that anyone reading this probably has some homework to be doing, like me right now...just want to thank you all for reading despite your undoubtedly busy schedules. I truly appreciate it! Have a great first semester and bomb-diggity grades!
