Ch. 26
It took the combined effort of America and the old man to pick up the bleeding German and get him into the back of the cart. Italy rode in the back to keep pressing on the wound and to keep talking to the German with the orders to tell America if he passed out. Not like there was much chance they wouldn't know though.
America rode in the front with the old man, who said his name was Angus. He got as much information as he could from the man, though he didn't know a whole lot about the changes to London. That was fine, America would just have to see what had changed when they got there.
In return for the little information Angus was able to give them, America had to explain who they were and what they were doing there. The American named the others along with himself, and admitted to being there to attack England at the heart, hopefully bringing down the second British Empire. When Angus asked if they were alone, America said yes, not wanting to reveal the fact that the rest of the world was going to come in after them. That was information that was best left a secret.
"I am surprised you believe you can do all of this with only three of you." Angus's rough voice betrayed little of the emotion, despite his words. "Even if you are once-nations."
"We still are countries." America refused to admit that they were no longer the strong nations they had been before any of this began. "We just have been attacked, and had to go into war, it was hardly our fault."
"Really? And how did you fall then? Went down fighting?"
America wished he could have said yes, but the would be a lie. "No." He spoke staring coldly ahead. "I fell running. I couldn't afford to be captured then, like other countries who had tried to fight England. Hungary, she fought and was captured. My brother was injured and was captured in the invasion of my Capitol. I know England better than anyone else when he's like this, in his 'empire' mode, so I needed to be here to fight."
"But you still ran." Angus didn't sound too sympathetic. "You left when you people needed you the most. Can you tell me how many people are even alive right now hmm? How many people died? How about your president, do you know if he is alive?"
"Shut up." America hissed at him, glaring at the Scottish man. "You don't know how hard it was for me to leave them like that, you wouldn't understand how painful it was to fall. Don't call me a coward, I am here to help people like you, which I certainly couldn't do if I was stuck in England's prisons now could I?"
"I never called you a coward." Angus didn't raise to meet the Americans visible anger. "But I did imply that you shouldn't have run away. There are other nations to take your place, am I wrong? And with your anger, it may not have been a good idea for you to come in the invasion."
America's glare deepened, and he opened his mouth to snap back at the old farmer before Germany spoke up from the back of the cart.
"America you archloch, shut up. Come back here, I want to talk to you."
America took a moment, unhappy with just leaving this like it was. But he eventually got up on the moving cart, going over the back of the front seat to the injured German. Italy traded places with him, sitting in the front and sparking a much more pleasant than what America had managed.
"You really are an idiot you know that?" Germany sighed, keeping his voice down. "This man could throw us off at anytime, and then where would we be?" He studied America with a slightly worried expression. "What's wrong with you? I've never seen you act like this before."
America was silent, taking Italy's place of holding his shirt against the bullet wound. "I don't know what's wrong.. Something is fucking with my head right now, I don't know what's going on. But you have to agree he was going way too far there man!"
"I don't care." Germany growled. "Be pleasant just for a while longer, use that rage for fuel when we are fighting in London alright?"
America didn't say anything, unable to agree to that. It was strange, feeling this rage bubbling up inside of him, and he didn't know how to control it like others did. The American was completely unused to this new sensation, and didn't quite know what to do about it. It must be a good thing they were at war, plenty of people to take this out on. But Germany was right, he had to at least try to keep it contained.
Both of the nations looked up when the cart started to roll to a stop, not far from the farm, but there was a gate closed in the way. America stood, leaving Germany to jump over the edge and haul it open, allowing the cart to move through. Angus didn't look at him as he passed, looking ahead at the road, and ignoring the Americans glare. America hauled the gate closed fiddling with the lock. "Hey, this thing doesn't lock. Should I just.. Hey!" America turned to see the cart still moving down the road without him. Germany was looking out the back to him, and the American could swear that the man was smirking at him. America tried one more time to lock the gate before abandoning it, running after the others. He pushed himself up, hauling himself up so he sat on the edge of the back. Scowling at Germany, he caught his breath. "You are such a dick." He spoke breathlessly.
"You needed the exercise." Germany was looking amused. "And I didn't tell Angus to keep going. He never stopped. I thought you heard it keep going."
"No, I didn't." America lay back, letting his legs bend over the edge of the cart. "I don't know why you think that I would hear." Not wanting to spark another argument, Germany stayed quiet.
The rest of the trip was filled with an over-exited Italians chatter and waving arms. More than once he asked if there would be pasta at their destination. Not able to promise anything, Angus started out saying maybe, but as time went on, he quickly figured out he had to say no to Italy. Unfortunately, that didn't satisfy him, continuing to randomly ask until Germany had to threaten him with no pasta even after they got back. That shut him up for a total of three minutes, before he started up again.
The arrival to the farm was a great relief to two of the people on board, Angus figuring out how to just ignore Italy most of the time. Angus retrieved a long board with America, and they lifted Germany on it to bring him inside. He was protesting the whole time, insisting that he wasn't that hurt. They both ignored him, following Angus's instructions to go put him on the kitchen table. There were people inside, an old woman who looked like she was Angus's wife, and two small children. A young girl and boy, looking at them curiously.
Angus took a moment to explain to his wife who they were. America could understand less than half of it, since they were speaking in Gaelic. He didn't try to listen in, instead inspecting Germany's wound. He could easily find the entrance for the bullet, but there was no exit. He paused, thinking about what that meant. With the still slightly accelerated healing rate they all still possessed, he suspected he would need to dig it out. A hunk of metal couldn't be allowed to stay in his shoulder.
When Angus turned back around, he introduced the three new people in the room. His wife, Eleanor was looking rather sympathetic at the three of them, and his two grand-children Isabelle and little Fredrik. America noticed the personality difference straight away. While Fredrik seemed to be entranced by their presence, Isabelle lingered back, giving them wary looks. Maybe she had heard about the stories of the countries from passing soldiers. Even if she hadn't, America didn't think she could do anything to hurt them anyway.
Eleanor approached them, and spoke with just as thick an accent as her husband, offering help for Germany's wound. America told the woman his injury, and not needing any further information, she started collecting the things she would need to treat him. Taking a much greater liking to his wife than he had to him, America glanced towards Angus to gauge his reactions to this help. He looked plenty tense, though he didn't look like he was going to do anything to stop them.
"Out if the room children, go play outside." Eleanor's kind voice called the children's attention to her. It made sense. What they were about to do wasn't exactly something a seven year old boy should see. Fredrik first had to pull Italy out of the room to play with him, which the Italian only happily agreed to when Germany gave him permission. Isabelle however, stayed where she was, speaking in accented Gaelic to her grandmother. It must just be his imagination, but America could swear he could hear a slight British accent tinting her words. A the two women exchanged a few words before Eleanor eventually nodded. Isabelle looked smug for a second before she went to pick up a needle and thread from the counter, next to the older woman's embroidery. Seeing they were alright how they were, Angus left to find Italy and Fredrik.
Giving Germany a few words to quickly explain what they were going to do, Eleanor started actually digging in his shoulder for the bullet. Trying to keep his shoulder relaxed, Germany grit his teeth against the pain, keeping his head turned away.
America couldn't help but stare at the process, dark red dripping down and pooling on the table. He couldn't help but say he found the whole process fascinating, watching the metal being dug out of flesh. Watching the pain become visible on the German's face, after having such a mask to cover it before. America studied, took in his pain, not letting a single grimace or tensing of the muscles escape his gaze.
Suddenly tensing himself, America's eyes widened slightly. What was he thinking? Muttering an apology, the American forced himself to turn around and leave the room. He didn't leave the same way Italy Fredrik and Angus did, so he found himself outside, near the cart. He kept moving to a cut stump, falling down to sit on it. He was alone in that part of the yard, so he wall was free to think.
Passing a hand over his face, America struggled to push those images if bloodshed and pain out of his head. Yes they were at war, and yes he would see plenty of it. But he didn't need to obsess over it either. He couldn't obsess like that, it would drive him insane. That was how the bad guys thought, and he wasn't any bad guy! He was the hero for gods sake!
'If that's true..' A little voice spoke up in the back of his head, 'then why do you keep imagining this? I know what you visualize. All along that road, since the attack. Maybe that kill really did knock something loose. Maybe you aren't sane anymore, did you think of that? And if that's true, are you sure you're still the good guy here? When you want to do these-'
"Shut up!" America whispered loudly, staring at the floor with his head in his hands. "You don't know me. You don't know what I want."
'I know what you think about, and that's all I need. Tell me, if you can, what is marking you different than that Minister you claim to loath so much? He has sent nations toppling, pushed them to the ground. It was your idea in the first place to attack England at his heart, in London wasn't it? It was your plan, always your idea, no one told you to create it. Yet create it you did, and here you are with no clue how well it will go over at all. For all you know, it could kill England. The stress of loosing all of this at once found make his whole country fall. And I know you've thought of that. Since you found out about him fading after conquering Russia.'
"What the hell do you know?" His voice was rising, full of fear and anger. "They were just thoughts , it wasn't going to actually happen."
'Do you have proof of that?' The voice wouldn't back off. 'If you don't know for certain it's a possibility right? And your still willing to take the risk. Take the fish you will kill your once-brother. That you will kill the man you supposedly-'
"Shut up!" America screamed, clutching his head. "Just shut the fuck up! You don't know anything about me! Leave me alone, go away!"
The American was found by Italy and Angus, Fredrik hovering a safe distance away. Angus stayed need his grandson as Italy did his best to calm the hyperventilating American. Not looking up from the ground, America could hardly hear the Italians pleading voice, begging him to calm down. Though it had receded into his head, he could still hear it's taunts, pushing him closer towards the edge. There was something going on with him, and America just couldn't figure out what was causing it. But he needed to figure it out soon, because his sanity wouldn't last long like this.
((Authors Note: Scary.. America I love you so much, but your pain is important, I promise. I swear.. It'll come into play.. Eventually.. And of course, feel no remorse.
I'm mainly just glad that I got this up before the full month mark. Slowly getting back into the routine here, I swear to you. Unfortunately, I'm in a car right now.. I have no internet.. So this probably isn't getting up until tomorrow, but certainly this weekend.
I.. Don't have much to say here. So happy reading ya'll, and stay with me till the next update!))