AN:/ WARNING: Chapter contains character death!
Chapter 12: I'm Moving On
"Hey… Hey please wake up…" a soft voice spoke, followed by a gentle nudging at Alfred's side. The blond groaned but only shifted slightly.
"Get up you twit!" An angry sounding voice hissed and a fist met Alfred's head.
The America sat up scowling and clutching where he'd been hit, "What was that for Arthur?"
"You slept through the whole bloody meeting!" Arthur snarled, collecting up his papers.
"So it was all just a terrible, terrible dream…" Alfred sighed a sigh of relief as he too stood up and gathered together his askew papers.
"What was all just a dream?" Arthur asked, tone softening.
"Oh no, it wasn't just a dream," an eerie voice purred. Alfred could practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he turned to timidly glance at the corner. And true to his suspicions, the wendigo was there, hovering in its usual creepy manner.
"What are you doing here?" Alfred whispered to the creature.
"Alfred who are you talking to?" Matthew asked softly, coming up to stand beside his brother.
Alfred pointed at the wendigo, "Don't you see that hideous beast there in the corner?!"
Arthur and Matthew looked to the corner, where there was merely a plant in a pot on the floor and a painting of a snake on the wall. Why there was a painting of a snake on the wall, nobody really knew, but that was the least of their concerns right now. "Alfred there's a painting and a plant in that corner," Arthur looked back at the now trembling man.
"No, no, no! Don't you see it?!" Alfred's expression and body language went slightly crazed as he rambled on about descriptions of the creature. Arthur stared like Alfred had grown a second head and Matthew looked genuinely worried for his brother.
"Should we be getting him away from here now?" Arthur suggested, noticing Matthew giving the corner a weary glance. Though all Matthew saw was a plant and picture, there was something…off about that one spot. But that could be Alfred playing on his mind. Still… "Matthew?" Arthur called again, sounding miles away despite being a few feet away from Arthur. Wait a second… Did that snake in the picture just…move?
No, Matthew blinked his eyes and shook his head. Wait, did it? He squinted from his spot in the room at the painting. The Canadian could have sworn that the snake just flicked its tongue a few seconds ago. He was about to write the situation at hand off as Alfred affecting him but then he really did see the snake move. And it wasn't just a tongue flicking out or the eyes blinking. The frame and the picture quivered and almost suddenly, the enormous black snake in the picture burst towards Matthew. He screeched as the thing coiled around him, squeezing every last bit of air out of him. He was sure he was going to suffocate when suddenly he could breathe again.
Matthew sucked in a wonderful breath of air only to cough and nearly gag from a rotten, decaying smell. Talons curled around his neck and ghosted up and around his face, forcing him to look up into beady black eyes and a shit eating grin. "Hello," the thing breathed its nasty breath in his face. Not wanting to be rude, no matter how much the thing reeked or how dangerous the situation was, Matthew gave a small noise of acknowledgement. "Do you like my handiwork, Matthew?" The thing asked, its claws leaving his face and a bony hand swept across Matthew's vision.
The Canadian blinked upon realizing he wasn't in the meeting room anymore, but rather a foggy swamp-like place. Matthew blinked his eyes to adjust from such a close range to gazing out across the scenery. Arthur was wading through the thick water, slipping and falling into it a few times. He eventually reached where he was heading; over to Francis who was curled up on the bank of the water covered in his own blood. Matthew averted his gaze only to see a severely injured Ivan holding Yao to his chest and stroking the Asian's hair as if he were dying. The sound of something heavy being dragged through the mud made the Canadian shift his line of sight.
"Oh," Matthew gasped almost silently as he noticed Connor trekking unhappily through the muck and grime. He was startled by the sickly black wings with feathers that stuck together in clots of blood. The older blond wore steel cuffs around both wrists attached by chains to impressive blocks of lead. Something painful and heavy hung around his neck and just by watching, Matthew could tell it was made to choke if resistance arose. It was a wonder Connor could still get away in his poor condition. Matthew turned to face the demon, "Alright, wendigo, where's my brother Alfred and what have you done with him?" The look in his eyes was fierce and demanding and a tone of sudden authority came from the Canadian.
"Ah yes, the slightly pudgy one with an unbreakable spirit…" The wendigo sighed, as if exhausted, "Do come to my manor, it is a much more pleasant place to discuss such things." The swamp around the duo began to spin at a rapid pace until Matthew had to clamp his eyes shut to avoid getting a migraine. When he opened them again there was a black and white checkered tile floor under his feet. Those he had seen in swamp were present again now, though they had been tidied up. Not a drop of blood clung to anybody but the many wounds were still present. Shifting his gaze back to Connor, he noticed the ex-nation had lost his restraints although what Matthew best decided was a collar still hung around his neck. Matthew swept his gaze across the vast space at everyone and despite their differences they all looked the same.
The same hopeless look in their eyes, the same aura of surrender and defeat; they were all rather skinny. Even Ivan, who was usually so stocky, had a few ribs beginning to show. Arthur was the worst of them by far; the Englishman was jumpy and defensive, he held his tongue if he had anything sharp to say, his skin was as pale as a sheet of paper and probably as thin as paper too. His normally glistening, attentive emerald eyes were dull and sunken in now. There was still an air of pride and stubbornness about him, however. Matthew glared up at the wendigo, "Why are you doing this?"
"While I love killing others for fun and simply to eat, I have found it is much more fun to torture prey. It is quite an enjoyable experience to watch these immortal ones limp around trying to find a way out and end their misery. Though that is rather, shall we say, impossible? Come for a walk with me, Canada." The creature waved a bony hand for Matthew to follow.
He trailed after the wendigo, quite reluctantly at that. After the other nations were out of sight the wendigo spoke again, "Those and the other nations of your world that are here can't die. Simply because of that fact; they are immortal. You must be thinking that their countries would collapse under their personification's poor conditions but, ah, that is why my creations thrive."
"So you really are responsible for the second players…" Matthew frowned.
"You expected anything less? And their species is not 'second players', they are 'alternate nations'. They take your kind's places so the country lives on while the original copy suffers for my amusement."
"But…why? I understand death is your thing but…why the nations? And I guess an even bigger question is why I'm not like my friends…" The Canadian stopped walking.
The wendigo paused and floated back over to him when he heard no footsteps. "You are Canada. Your country is where my kind first came into existence. Although I am a creature of the darkness with no soul and a cold heart, I still have a heart and I could never bring myself to harm the one who brought me into existence." The creature drifted away from Matthew with a cruel grin, "So it's your fault everyone is dying, eh, Canada?"
Matthew stood frozen in horror and guilt now. If the evil thing said anything else to him he didn't hear. He felt numb all over at the realization it was true. It was all his fault. "Now run along and wake up. You'll awaken into my world and live alongside my alternate nation species." Matthew turned without hesitation and ran away blindly, wordlessly.
Once Matthew had gone a short call echoed through the manor. In the main hall, the nations perked and after a blinding light, they suddenly weren't nations anymore; but rather kitsunes. The lot of them came trotting over to the wendigo in a fit of yips and barks. They quieted down and slunk to their bellies at the sight of their master towering over them. "You've all done well, tonight, my darlings. Matthew was the last hope their world had to save them. But with him believing it was best to go live with the copies there is nobody to save the American now. Guilt will blind him for the rest of his life, which covers up all other evidence, for he is the kind who will remain silent. Tonight we shall feast in your honor, kitsune!" A chorus of excited barks and howls erupted from the group of kitsune as they ran off to the dining hall.
The soft fluttering of flapping wings echoed through the hall and the master of the manor failed to miss it. It whipped its head around and swung an arm out to catch to attacker. The wendigo hissed when it realized it missed, the enemy having thrust itself upwards just before being ripped open and filled with poison. It grew eerily silent in the hall and the beating of wings was no longer heard. The wendigo was alert for anything that would give his enemy away now. It glanced at the floor and noticed a small white feather on a black tile. The wendigo picked it up and gave a deep inhale, closing tiny eyes as it tried to trace what scent it was. All that could really be gathered was the fact the intruder was a male angel; a healthy one at that, one that could easily pick a fight with somebody younger in the manor and win. A high pitched wail from the main hall snapped the wendigo back and sent it hurling itself into the main hall.
Bodies of the kitsune he had just declared a feast in their names lay there, even the pack's leader lay dead in a pool of crimson. "Ah, Francis Bonnefoy, how nice of you to join us," the wendigo purred upon seeing the angel. The Frenchman only gave a cold glare in response, carefully watching the hideous thing. "I was expecting somebody else, honestly."
"And who could that possibly be?" Francis replied curtly.
The wendigo didn't move from his spot, "How about the real Connor? My kitsune are getting tired of the charade and now I have even less pawns since you killed all these precious critters."
"Forget it. You may be able to assault the earth where many live but even you shall never reach the gates of Paradise. Connor stays there forevermore alongside his mother. Should you look up at any point within the next week and see good omens for me, such as doves and the bright cloudless sky, then you should know your end is near. The one you seek to kill before you finally lie in peace will not come." Francis informed the beast.
It looked thoughtful for a moment, "Alright, messenger boy, you flap your scrawny wings and travel back to your Paradise and ask him something for me, would you?" Francis narrowed his eyes but gave a nod. "Excellent! Do go and ask Connor if he would be so kind as to meet me in Gettysburg on the night of the full moon? Yes, that is plenty of time and I'm positive he remembers the place well enough. And make sure you tell him everything he cares about is at stake." Francis snarled but spread his wings and flew off quickly, rather eager to get away from this place.
Several weeks later the wendigo waited patiently in the tall grass under the light of the full moon in the mortal world he was destroying. A soft breeze made the grass look like a gently rolling sea. The sky was cloudless and moon shone brightly overhead. The wendigo had to admit to being slightly worried, as it had in fact seen many of the ill omens Francis had spoken of. Just as the wendigo was about to give up and go home, the air several hundred feet away shifted and there was a slight disturbance in the breeze. A soft white glow faded in from near transparency until it took the shape of an angel, then the glow fading to reveal an angel.
Dirty blond, neatly combed hair with an obnoxious cowlick, slightly oval glasses and navy blue eyes that shone in the moonlight told the wendigo this was the one, the right one. The angel wore leather sandals and a snowy white toga that came down his knees, only fastened over the angel's left shoulder. Pure white wings were folded neatly and pressed slightly against the angel's back. His face betrayed nothing, as cold and emotionless as a statue, though an aura of underlying tenderness and gentleness could be felt coming from the angel.
A warm yet wicked smile spread across the wendigo's horrid face, "Just the one I've been looking for; Connor, my fine friend how do you do?" The angel didn't reply, only continuing to stare down the vile creature, his wings slightly ruffled. "Just as I remember… too silent for your own good."
"Do what you will but leave my brothers alone," he stated sharply.
"And tell me why I should do that," the wendigo smirked, "Matthew has gone into guilt and spiraling depression and your poor American brother…ah Alfred is such a joy to play with. He-"
"Cut the shit and get to the point. I don' care how many times you've tasted his blood," Connor interrupted. He sniffed a bit, "Probably tastes of ridiculous amounts of sugar and too much salt anyway."
The wendigo lost its menacing glower and scowled unhappily, "How unfortunate you can watch my actions and not be confused by the time paradox…" It straightened itself out, "No matter. I'm not exactly too fond of his fatty blood. I'm more so after you."
"I've done nothin' to you. Be gone with your hideous pelt and bones and leave everyone in peace." The blond angel half snarled.
"You think I'd ever listen to some little brat with pretty white wings?" The wendigo snapped and drifted towards the angel, who stood his ground. The creature coiled loosely around the angel and stroked soft feathery wings with bone claws. A single feather was plucked and Connor flinched a bit. The wendigo slithered a ways off, its back to Connor, "Angels are such gorgeous, majestic creatures… How I wish I could have been one."
"Something as foul as you could never live happily."
"Perhaps not in this life under this condition but maybe if I were human again. You see, ever since your people attacked Fort Sumter I have always hated you. In my past life, before I became this ugly monster, I was a Union soldier. I loved my country and would have done anything to protect it. After joining the militia I heard higher ups talking. They spoke of men and women who represented whole countries. At first I did not believe such nonsense; after all, it seemed quite outlandish for people to live for century after century and hardly age in a human sense." The wendigo explained.
Connor narrowed his eyes, "People talk. Back then it was okay for people to know of us nation's existences. People didn't write as much back then as they do now. By letting out the identities of the nations has endangered all of them."
The wendigo rolled his eyes, "You never cared about any of them; except for your brothers and a few African nations that you kidnapped for slavery. So why change now?"
"Alfred can be an airhead at times and yes he is responsible for my death, but it doesn't change the fact I love him the way brothers do. Matthew can fend for himself but he needs to feel wanted." Connor put in firmly. "I admit to guilt of slavery but I am not guilty of kidnap."
"You say you care for your brothers," the creature ignored the last part of Connor's reply, "But would you die for them?" A black mist appeared on both sides of the evil being and when it settled, an utterly defeated Alfred appeared on the wendigo's right side and a timid Matthew on its left side. "Matthew here is the reason I have lived on after you killed me in the Battle of Antietam."
"Death is a part of war," Connor stated, not letting his feelings become known through his voice, though eyes shone with concern for his younger brothers, "And it isn't avoidable in the heat of battle. You have no further quarrel with me."
"You tried to corrupt the United States and I can't forgive that," the creature spat.
"Civil wars are a part of countries and their histories. The cause is different each time but only one side can be the victor. Now I ask politely one last time, turn back time and reverse the damage that has been done."
"I refuse," the wendigo hissed without second thought, "If I don't kill you now, without a doubt I will kill your brother and he'll spend the rest of his existence as my servant." The beast motioned to Alfred, who sat on his knees looking hopeless.
"You can't kill him….he is already dead…" Alfred mumbled softly.
The other three looked at him and the monster was the one to reply, "You are mistaken, Jones. People die and they may go to Paradise, but even then they can still be killed. Their spirit is what goes to Paradise and if you kill their spirit then they are erased from the stars permanently."
"What business do you have with him anyway?" Matthew asked quietly.
"He ripped away everything I knew when I was human! My family was killed and my barn was burned. My parents were old and died of a heart attack when those blasted Confederates barged into our town. I watched my wife die at the hands of traitors and sinners and my son of 8 months was killed when they crushed his skull! Call me a former patriotic countryman but now there is nothing but spite and hatred. I am simply using Alfred to get to his brother," the thing roared in anger and rage.
"You're fighting over something that happened centuries ago. Let it go," Connor frowned, his wings slowly unfolding.
The wendigo regained his calm demeanor. Still glaring at Connor, he asked Alfred, "Is this your real brother?"
Alfred stared up at the hideous beast then turned his gaze to the angel. He looked at Alfred with a calm, soft look. "I…I don't know," Alfred answered. The wendigo nudged him forward a bit. Alfred took hesitant steps towards the angel, not really sure what to believe anymore. Had his entire life been a lie? After what seemed like hours, he was standing face to face with the angel, standing a few inches taller however. Alfred slumped his shoulders and bent his neck down to rest his head on the angel's shoulder.
Connor reached up with one hand to run a hand through Alfred's hair, which shone silver in the moonlight. "I'm not going to ask you to believe that I'm the real deal. You've been through a lot… But I want you to know that even if you see me as an illusion of this wendigo, I will still die for you Alfred."
The reaction was almost instant after the last words were spoken. Connor was pulled into a crushing hug by Alfred and he felt tears drop onto his shoulder. "I'm…sorry…" Alfred whimpered, hugging his long lost and nearly forgotten brother. Something deep in the American's gut told him that this man, this angel, was his real brother.
The Southerner's voice dropped to a whisper so low only Alfred could hear, "Don't talk. There is an enemy to be defeated. There is time to catch up later, I promise. Now dry your eyes, you big baby."
Alfred let go with a sad laugh and took off his glasses, wiping his eyes dry with his jacket sleeve. Inhaling deeply he turned to face the wendigo, struggling to regain his voice and not sound shaky, "Th-this is my brother... And I won't let you take him from me!"
"Very well, if that's what you choose to believe then so be it." The wendigo somehow snapped his bony fingers and several figures arose from the tall grass. Connor spread his wings and Alfred tensed up at the realization of ambush. Matthew stood frozen in shock at the wendigo's side. What happened next was in slow motion; the wendigo gave a wicked smile before raising its right arm and turning, swinging the arm down and plunging it into Matthew's chest. A blood curling screech rippled over the former battlefield as the wendigo sharply drew his arm back and hurled a slimy object across the field at the two Americans.
Alfred would have puked if he had anything in his stomach to gag up and the angel stared at the still beating heart utterly stunned and incapable of action. The sound of the Canadian hitting the ground brought both brothers back; Alfred charging forward recklessly with an earsplitting battle cry, Connor following suit headed right for the wendigo. The angel was knocked from his flight path by the mighty swing of a nailed baseball bat.
"Well hello, pretty boy," the attacker purred, pressing a knee onto Connor's chest while the angel was sprawled on the ground breathless from the blow.
"Get off!" Connor bellowed, his fist colliding with the brunette's face. The alternate version of Alfred fell backwards then sprang back to his feet, pausing to spit out a tooth. "You're outnumbered, softie!"
"May be, but you're outmatched!" Connor shot back before thrusting forward and plowing into the brunette, swiping the baseball bat from a loose hand and bringing it down with brute force into the taller male's skull. The alternate writhed in spitting fury and Connor stood up, "I'll let fate decide if you die or not. You aren't worth any more of my time."
Alfred had been charging at the wendigo, punching away anybody who dared get between him as his younger brother. The wendigo stooped over where Matthew was, beginning to do something dastardly. Alfred sprang into the air, ready to bowl over the giant creature but was intercepted by three other alternate nations, whom could easily be Ludwig, Ivan, and Francis' copies. The trio pinned him to the ground on his back, one holding Alfred's head, another securing his arms firmly and the last keeping his legs from flailing around. A familiar pink haired man with pale blue shining eyes stood over him.
"Hullo, Alfred!" Oliver chirped, "It certainly has been a long time, hasn't it~?"
"Oh hurry up," the alternate Francis snarled, "We've got a troublesome angel to deal with too."
Oliver frowned, "We don't get along like we used to, Francis…"
The French copy sniffed, unaffected, "Lutz would you make him hurry up?"
The German nodded at him and turned to Oliver, "Do as he says."
Oliver gave a sad look but his creepy smile returned as he looked down at Alfred, "You never did try my cupcakes, did you? Or maybe you did, I just can't seem to remember! Ah well. It has taken a lot of work but I've finally perfected my latest recipe! You'll be a dear and eat it, won't you? You'll be the first one to die by eating this; I've added the perfect amount of poison that kills nations to the batter."
Alfred eyes widened in terror as the innocent looking treat appeared in front of him. He sealed his lips and clenched his jaws, vainly trying to pull himself free of iron holds. Francis, who was holding his head, wrapped a hand around his throat, pinching the American's nose shut until Alfred began to grow dizzy and his lungs burned for oxygen. His brain felt fuzzy and numb, chest feeling like there was a mountain of lead on it. As vital parts of his brain shut down, the parts controlling his will collapsed and his jaws slacked open. Francis let go of his throat and nose, resumed holding his head in place and keeping Alfred's jaws pried open and Oliver shoved the poisonous pastry down his throat to the point Alfred could not gag it up if he wanted. The four got up and left him after he stopped struggling and fought to regain air.
So he was finally dying for real this time… He knew he should be panicking but somehow he was calm as he felt his heartbeat decrease. After all this time…he wouldn't have to suffer anymore. He wouldn't have to watch anyone else suffer and die. The guilt wouldn't gnaw at him anymore and he could finally go on and his spirit could be happy and free again. He was defeated; he had given up trying to beat the wendigo. It was too powerful for him to continue fighting anymore. His last thought before death was that he hoped everyone could forgive him for his faults.
Alfred woke up surrounded by pure white. He was alone as he looked around. For some reason this all felt so familiar… He stood up slowly, swaying a bit from dizziness. He recovered his balance and turned around in a complete circle, the bottom of his toga brushing his legs as he did so. A silvery halo floated over his head and snowy wings sprouted from his back. Alfred looked at his arms and legs, pulling the top of his toga down to examine his chest. He found no fresh wounds and no scars, surprisingly. Alfred became slightly worried when he saw a pair of shadowy figures headed towards him. Tensed to run he suddenly recognized the slightly shorter figure as his brother.
Alfred ran towards his brother, tripping over his own feet and landing on Connor, squashing his older brother under him. A happy noise came from Alfred as he hugged his brother tightly, ignoring squalls of protest. After he was done giving a warm embrace, Alfred sat back, pulling Connor upright as well. He demanded to know what happened and the older brother explained it to him.
He spoke of how the sky suddenly darkened of the storming heavens and lightening striking the ground as other angels flooded the battlefield. He spoke of how the alternate nations fled in terror, and how the wendigo narrowly escaped. He spoke of how many angels worked together to reverse time and undo the damage that had been done. Alfred was upset that the wendigo has escaped but was quickly soothed by his brother saying the wendigo had been banished to a universe far, far away. Nobody knew where the second players had gone and didn't really care as long as they didn't stir up trouble. Connor shared information of how any nations involved had their memories of the treacherous event wiped from their minds permanently except for a few who could handle it. The original Francis has returned to earth and Matthew was revived. Everyone was sent back to their correct times. And even after Connor was done talking, Alfred still pressed for more. So Connor spoke more and the two caught up with each other after centuries of not being around the other. The two talked for hours and were quite worn out after they had caught up.
After a while they lay down in the pure whiteness to take a nap, curling up together like they had when they were young children and all was right with the world; before they had become separated. The third figure smiled. She looked to be in her late 20's and wore a long white gown. Elegant white wings were folded to her back neatly and a gold-ish halo was atop her head. She had bright, intelligent brown eyes and long, silky black hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. Around her neck was a necklace; it was strung together on a thin piece of animal skin, a turquoise rock was between two spherical red pebbles, and attached to the turquoise rock was a bald eagle feather.
The woman knelt down by her two sleeping sons and planted a soft, feathery kiss on both of their foreheads, "My children… You have suffered so much since I've gone. Things hadn't gone as I expected. I knew you two would have to settle your differences as you grew older, and one wouldn't make it; though I never could have predicted the danger that has just recently passed." She sighed softly as she straightened out their clothes and wings, taking off their glasses, "The two of you were never destined to live side by side as nations, as you oppose the other's opinion. But I still love you both equally and even though you can't hear me now, I wish for you to carry these words in your hearts; I have and always will love you as much as any mother could ever love her children."
One stirred but neither woke. She gave a small smile, "Though you've both died and neither of your countries should exist thanks to unfortunate recent events… I'm sending you both back to the time of 2013. Alfred will continue to be the United States, but Connor; you'll be at his side to help him make better judgments. You'll both remember the event but it will be your jobs to figure out an explanation for a certain ex-nation reappearing after nearly a century and a half after his supposed death. I'll always be beside you….both of you…"
"Get up, lazy bones," Connor prodded Alfred. The younger brother was crushing him on the sofa. Alfred just snored loudly, "Get up!" Connor pushed Alfred off him and dumped him on the floor. Alfred bolted awake as he thumped onto the floor. About to give a sharp retort, Alfred was interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking at his surroundings, he noticed he was back in his house near Washington D.C. The two brothers glanced at each other before Alfred jogged to the door and Connor scrambled off the sofa and up the stairs.
"Oh, hey, Iggy, what's up?" Alfred asked as he opened the door, trying to sound as casual and calm as possible.
"I'm just here to remind you of the Washington D.C. Summit today at 9. Don't be late, you have an hour to get ready and be there." Arthur stated.
Alfred blinked, "If you don't mind me asking, what's today's date?"
Arthur gave him a questioning look and a slow answer, "April 27, 2013… Look I don't have time to play '20 Questions'. Just be there you twit." With that, Arthur turned and bounded off Alfred's front porch and into the already bustling sidewalks.
Alfred shut the door and called out to his brother, who descended the stairs cautiously. Noticing it was still only Alfred, Connor rejoined him. "What now…? I can't tell if this is real time or another space in the time paradox." Alfred muttered.
"I have a feeling in my gut that says everything is over and things are finally right with the world again," Connor patted his brother's shoulder.
Alfred felt deeply relieved and comforted by the ex-nation's words, choosing to believe him. He bounced back quickly, as usual, "Great! Now let's go find you something to wear to the Summit!"
"Wait," Connor said softly, "Will I be welcomed with open arms or shunned once again…? And what will you tell them?"
Alfred's expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "You're a part of the United States, now, as far as I'm concerned. The story we'll tell them will be that….you're like Gilbert! He was your mentor and now he's an ex-nation. He told us he was 'too awesome' to die but I think Paradise just couldn't deal with him and the other place couldn't keep up with him so they sent him back. Yeah! So basically you've been hiding out this entire time."
"Sure…just…don't speak of the wendigo and the kitsune around the others… They might think you've gone crazy… If they remember then I'm sure that they'll approach you first," Connor shrugged.
"Yay!" Alfred cheered and grabbed his brother's wrist, "Now let's go, we still need to get you into a suit!"
Almost fifteen minutes late, Alfred barged into the meeting hall with a cup of Starbucks in hand. "Hi guys!"
"You're late!" Ludwig barked at him.
"Whatever," Alfred shrugged and flopped into his chair at the head of the table, "I've got something of extreme importance to share with you guys anyway! You all remember my brother right? The one I fought with a long time ago?" Murmurs were passed throughout the assembled nations. "Well he's back!"
A few gasps of shock rang out and a few nations sprang to their feet, demanding to know if he needed help driving out the one they'd thought was dead. Alfred raised a hand for silence and the meeting hall grew uneasily quiet; so quiet in fact that one could have heard a fruit fly breaking wind. "Send him back!" A tanned young female with black hair hissed – the representation of Seychelles.
"I promise you I mean no harm," Connor stated from the doorway. A few nations remained stoic while others threw him nasty looks.
"Connor will be a second representative of the United States, my fill in if I'm ever too sick to attend; like Gilbert and Romano are for their brothers. Don't worry about slavery, it isn't an issue anymore. He'll continue to mostly represent the south of my country like he used to but…without as much power. We'll be splitting power equally between the two of us when it comes to governing the USA." Alfred put in, cutting off anybody who would try to tell the ex-nation off.
"I'm not expectin' anybody to give a warm greetin' to me now or ever. And don't go thinking I'm a threat either; ya gotta know when to put the past behind you…" Connor put in and moved gingerly to sit next to Alfred, watching everyone carefully. He didn't find the one nation in particular he was looking for. It was only after the meeting when he and Alfred were preparing to leave that two brunettes trotted over.
One was Antonio, the other was Pablo. Connor met Antonio's glare with a frightening look of his own. He was about to say something sharp when Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, as if saying "It's time you took your own advice and leave the past behind". Connor sighed and inhaled deeply to calm himself before giving Antonio a nod of acknowledgement. The Spaniard held out a hand and Connor shook it, both giving a little more force than necessary. Alfred watched them, worried; something in his gut was telling him that the two would have a hard time forgiving each other. He hoped his brother and the Spaniard could get along and work together side by side in peace one day.
When the iron gripping handshake was released, Pablo sprang forward from his spot next to Antonio, wrapping Connor in a huge hug. Although Alfred could understand Spanish and speak it fluently (as well as many, many other languages), he didn't quite catch what the Mexican whispered to Connor. The next part was louder, and in English, "I've missed you… It's been so long, amigo… Why did you have to leave me? You were my best friend…" It was the first time since they were children Alfred had ever seen Connor hug anybody back. He smiled a bit, remembering how close the two had been in several of the time paradoxes. Maybe they'd still have a chance to be that close, even with the future being altered for the best.
When the two separated and Connor went to stand back next to Alfred, and Pablo beside Antonio, Alfred caught a dark glint in the Mexican's eyes. Alfred bit back a snarl but gave a frown, earning a smug look from Pablo. Then again, maybe he wouldn't allow his brother to get so close with him… Pablo was a shady, suspicious character and Alfred didn't trust his southernmost neighbor. Without a doubt, the dark haired nation was up to something. Antonio sensed the tension crackling in the air between the American and the Mexican and pulled Pablo away to talk with some other nations. The glare the two shared, however, was dangerous and promised challenge in the future.
Connor nudged Alfred's ribcage with his elbow, "Hey, don't act hostile. If I can get over my bitter hatred and spite for Antonio then you can learn to get along with Pablo."
"We'll see about that," Alfred growled.
"You should be happy we have a chance to live the life we were supposed to. Besides," the Southern ex-nation's voice dropped to a whisper, "We got rid of the second players and the wendigo. What better reason to celebrate than that?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Alfred agreed, cheering up again, "Now let's go get some food! I'm starving!" Most nations filed out of the room after the duo at the mention of food, though some were headed directly home.
As the meeting hall cleared out, nobody noticed a strange man watching them from the window. He looked gloomy, despite the fire and rage that shone in his magenta eyes. His hair was a dull blond which was significantly darker at the ends; black sunglasses nestled on top of his head. A strange curl sprouted from his bangs. He wore a red plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and grey jeans with rips in them and some red and white sneakers. He was quite muscular too. Turning away from the window, he turned to face another person; the alternate United States. The blond growled, "They think they've gotten rid of us, pah!"
Al smirked, one of his teeth missing from the skirmish with Connor, "Let them think that. And even if they can't hear me, let it be known that we are still here…and we won't give up until the bitter end."
The pink haired man next to Al snarled, "They will pay dearly for killing our Francis."
"We'll make sure of that," Al nodded to Oliver, "They may have won the battle, but the war has only just begun."
END
AN:/ That's it! That's the end! Thank you all so much for your support! The reviews, favorites, and follows kept me pressing on! I'm sorry this last chapter is so late! But seriously, thank you all so much! Honestly, I'm kind of glad to be done with this ^^; After 8 months I was ready to be done! I started in September 2012 and now its over in April 2013...phew. I had fun 'competing' with GBTiger as we battled it out and challenged/rivaled each other in writing. We're good friends now because of it ^^ Pay her a visit when you can! She's got some good plans for future fanfictions~
This chapter's song is I'm Moving On by Rascal Flatts.
Tell me what you guys think of the ending! I purposely left it so ambiguous in case I decide to write a sequel. So if you want to read any new stories I post, make sure you follow me as an author~! I've got some pretty sweet things coming up. But if you don't want to follow me that's okay too. Much love for following this story though! :D
Love, Alex
