Author's Notes: Wow, when I say this is Canada's chapter, I meant it. This is a LONG chapter (I tried to shorten this, honest!). Normally, I would divide this up but it really works better continuous.
Warning: The following contains dramatizations of historical events and may contain inaccuracy (and bias since I avoided most of the darker parts of this country's history). Please feel free to correct me if I get anything severely wrong (in advance, I apologize). Canada's rant at the end also contains opinions.
Poems are credited to their wonderful authors and are used for the sound/feel of their words, not for their deeper intended meanings.
Italics are used on the poems for visuals' sake. Generally, they still mean a character is speaking in another language.
.. represent extra spaces since fanfiction doesn't seem to allow creative spacing formatting.
This Chapter has many time skip jumps. Many footnotes included below.
Enjoy :)
Inside an Energy Draining Chamber, Canada dreamt of an all-consuming darkness. He was trapped and floated within it. For what seemed like centuries, he felt alone.
Then, at long sweet last, he heard someone speak.
"Title: A photograph of me
..
It was taken some time ago
At first it seems to be
a smeared
print: blurred lines and grey flecks
blended with the paper;"
Matthew could hear a woman's voice speak through the blurred nothingness he was in. He felt like he should know what poem she was reciting, or at the very least know the author. Attentively, he listened for the source and swam towards it. Light could soon be seen and in that, something else.
"then, as you scan
it, you can see something in the left-hand corner
a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree
(balsam or spruce) emerging
and, to the right, halfway up
what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.
..
In the background there is a lake,
and beyond that, some low hills…"
He saw ahead of him all that was being described, as if a painter was adding them one by one, carefully blending them into a canvas. The young man swam towards them. Each step closer, he shrank another inch. Each inch, he lost another year. His eyes continued gazing up to the mysterious distorted view ahead. His glasses fell away but he didn't care. His mind was lost with the woman's words and her voice.
"(The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.
..
I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.
..
It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or how small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion.
..
but if you look long enough
eventually
you will see me.)
..
-Margaret Atwood "
The voice stopped, leaving the poem itself on that last fading name. Atwood...
Suddenly, his body gasped for air and he was now somehow breaking through a water's surface. A white gown now clung close to his skin. A red ribbon that was attached to his clothes floated along with the ripples. His teeth clattered as he swam desperately to the shore. However, as soon as his little feet marched out, his night-gown instantly dried up and he was no longer cold.
At first, he stared at his tiny hands in surprise, clenched them and unclenched them. He shook his arms and legs about. He had become a little boy of barely four years.
Light brightened around him and so he shut his eyes. When he reopened them again, he was no longer in front of a small cabin but instead, deep within a closed-off forest.
His dim indigo eyes stared at nightfall's sky that was watching above and a happy feeling overcame him. He smiled as he spun. His little body was full of energy. His wintery-sun hair was calm and his little curl swayed back and forth as he eagerly moved. He ran through the tall pines and forgot how he got there.
The chilly air wrapped all around him, yet even in his thin clothes, he was not at all cold.
A small smile lit up his face. The entire world was just so mysterious and filled with so many secrets. He was about to run further to explore the area, but then he heard a heavy cough.
He stopped running without a care in the world, and turned to see the dark looming figure that was watching him. A man made out of ice and snow.
Before a scream could be uttered, a word spoken or even a gasp let out, the figure gave a bow, as if he was an actor who had finished playing all his roles. And with that, he vanished. What little else was left of the boy's memory disappeared along with the man. No longer fearful, the young boy continued deeper into the forest.
Nightly shadows caused by the pine trees guarded over him. The calmness was soothing and the fresh air drove him forward. Despite the bareness of his small feet, not a rock or pine-cone scraped a foot. It was as if he was in some sort of heaven that was shaped like a pine-scented wilderness.
He wandered around.
Crack! His head spun around to the source of the noise. The branches of the trees behind him shifted and he froze. A tiny polar bear's head popped out. Frightened, the little boy shyed away.
"Canada," the bear calmly called out. "It's me.
"Canada?" the young boy whispered as he brought his hands closer to his body, as if to shield himself from the animal. "Who's that? Who are you?"
"Kumajirou," the bear replied taking another paw forward. "I live with you, remember? Being around you is the reason I have remained at this age for so long."
"I...don't know." He was happy before anyone had shown up. Why did someone have to show up? Desperately, he looked around for some sort of escape.
"Can't you remember anything? Do you know your own name?"
A pause followed as the boy stared at him then whispered again, "The Viking* left without telling me. I have no name but I was happy before you came here."
"You can't recall a time before you were in this forest?"
The little blond shook his head and took a step back. Realizing that pressing the child further would only scare him away, the bear glanced around his surroundings. "Your brain is very skilled in describing this forest. I wonder if I'm the cause of that."
"..."
"Do you still recall the Elders?"
The boy scrunched his face a little then lit up and nodded away eagerly. "They are the powerful spirits that represent this land."
"Would you prefer to listen to one instead?"
Another nod followed and then the bear looked to his left, "Elder of the Anishinaabe*, you can come out now." BOOM! A car exploded from the trees and landed with a hard thud into the small clearing.
"E-elder?" the boy asked quietly, breaking his earlier silence. His purple eyes widened at the sight of the car, "But...but...what's with this living stone creature? This is not something an elder would have."
A woman stepped out. Her hair was dark and pulled into a low ponytail. She replied with a serious voice, "What were you expecting? Some giant mystic bird would come to fly you over the evergreens and rockies? Nations can modernize with their people, simple as that." She looked over his small form, realizing the situation. "Er-I suppose you wouldn't understand that..."
Lip quivering, the young boy felt tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes. He feared what they wanted, and although one of them was an elder, he did not recognize her strange attire. Noticing his reaction, the woman continued walking towards him but in a slower manner.
"Shhh...Shhh...We are friends. There is somewhere you need to be. Let's hurry, okay?" She held out her hand.
The little boy looked up uncertain. His small hand shook as he placed it into hers. With a sudden graceful movement, she scooped him up to carry him into the car. He fidgeted as he was buckled into his seat.
"Elder, where are we going?"
"Just a simple drive," replied the Elder as she changed gears. Fog began rolling onto the rocky terrain before them. "Looks like Nanabush* is setting things up." She sped the vehicle forward, "You know this car was one of the few things that was not rejected by your mind. I can't tell, however, whether that this is the Company's doing, England's magic or your own."
"My...own?"
Her head turned back to the road, "It's funny how you countries use principles to reinforce your International Personification Laws but know nothing about it. Indeed, nations themselves, hold something within, little one."
"I...don't understand, Elder."
There was no response, as the car took a heavy turn to the left, creaking all the way on its wheels. The Elder grimaced from the effort and Kumajirou dug his claws into the seat to keep in place. There was a laugh. The smoke thickened and thickened.
Screech! Everyone in the car was tossed forward as the elder slammed on the breaks. The young boy didn't understand why they had stopped when there was clearly a bridge ahead. She warned him to say inside while she went out to investigate. The young boy waited patiently and watched the woman's face frown slightly.
She came back and looked at the young boy worriedly, then changed her attention to Kumajirou, "Bear, do you see a bridge ahead?"
The young cub nodded and added, "It seems there are still other barriers for you."
"Let's be glad that your connection with him is allowing you to follow. I will just have to find another way around." She replied then turned back to the young boy, "Listen to what I say carefully, little one."
Cautiously, he nodded with confusion still on his face.
"This is all is part of a dream. We are guiding you to go into the far recesses of your brain. Once in there, you should be able to find your hidden away memories. These memories will explain everything themselves. "
"So I will know who I am?"
"Yes, and a little more. When you achieve it, you will be able to defeat and finish your foe." The boy did not relax, "I know it's very scary for you right now. However, there are others counting on you to get through this. Do you want to let them down?"
"No…" He finally said quietly while looking sadly at his feet.
"Still…" she paused as she looked him over again, "Your current form is quite a surprise. It does help adjust you to what you're about to face but I don't know how that happened... Unless…but that cold spirit doesn't help anyone. " She shook away the thought and went on, "Anyways, you must stay close to your bear as much as possible. He will keep you from getting lost."
"The company did us a few favors by using my DNA to mess with you. Our connection is even stronger now." Kumajirou said as he opened the door and hopped out, "I will keep us moving forward." He opened the little boy's door, "Come on."
The young boy jumped down and stared at the path he was supposed to take. Sensing his reluctance, the bear gently nudged him forward. They stepped onto the bridge and disappeared into the thick fog. There was another laugh.
It soon became a voice speaking in a language that the young boy couldn't pin down...but still understood, "Those who see death, those who see spirits, those who do not fear. These are the Final States."
Two days had passed since they had botched the plan. Two days since England had started this little shelter in Romania's house. Two days since the snow storms had subsided. Two days since many nations began to suffer from the frequently growing headaches. Two days and the only good news was that the New World Order wasn't public yet.
The rescue team never returned and the victims that they had saved never woke up. They all remained in some kind of coma state. At the very least, with the help of magic, England managed to keep their temperatures from going completely cold. He longed to know what happened at the company's H.Q but going back was an extremely dumb move.
Sealand's mind had finally stabilized and his body purged the effects of the pills. On a few occasions, the company would try to get back into the Micronation's mind again, but England was there to keep him in check. For now, he gladly helped England out while he was unable to go home.
The older nation didn't dare watch the news anymore. In light of their failure, he didn't want to imagine how far the company got with their plans. America's government was already starting to grow impatient in waiting for their personification. Political entities had gotten to finger pointing and the whole mess from the last several weeks was threatening to explode into mainstream sources. However, curiousity was like a cat that will never leave you alone until you gave it attention, and he eventually gave in.
"What are you doing?" Peter asked as Arthur plopped the orb on the dining table.
"I'm going to scry the situation in the Headquarters right now to see what happened to the others," he replied. Sealand nodded as if he understood, shrugged because it was boring and walked over to watch over the fallen.
As the Englishman whispered the beginning words, he mentally crossed his fingers. He rarely did this kind of spell without an anchor. The orb glowed and the fog in it cleared.
Unfortunately, the orb decided that instead of going to where he wanted, it was going to connect to another enchanted sphere. The orb it happened to connect to was inside his Collection room in India. Much to his surprise, there appeared to be a group of people crowded within it. Many looked like bodyguards from their build while in the center was a masked figure, Egypt and Japan lying on the ground. "What are you-" Egypt's eyes snapped to the sound of his voice.
"England?"
"Egypt, is that you?"
"Yes…" the tanned man stood up and walked closer, "How are you speaking-ah, right magic."
"Egypt, are you okay?" Japan weakly called out.
The orb was picked up and brought closer to the centre group. England couldn't help but stare at Japan with a menacing look, not only because he was still pretty pissed over what the other had done, but because it was also the direction that the orb had been placed in.
"Your company is winning. I hope you're happy, Japan." He spat.
Japan coughed, "The company is not happy with me, England. I betrayed them."
"Nice side change. How convenient."
The other island nation kept calm, "I was also a victim. Still, I truly apologize for what I have done."
"Well, you can take your apo-"
"We don't need to fight about this right now," the human interrupted.
"Yes, first let's get some thing strai-" he cut himself off and huffed, "Please, turn me around to whoever is speaking. I can't do that on my own." The masked man did so, "First, let's get questions out of the way. Who the bloody hell are you?"
The masked man shrugged indifferently and took off his mask, "Do you not remember me?"
"Quite frankly, no."
"Remember that one time Canada got drunk in your country and you had to go pick him up."
"Yes...that was..." he mouthed, "Right...Yes, I remember you now. You were the odd man who bumped into me on the way there without so much as an "excuse me". Regardless, I was very shocked to see that Mat-Canada could act so insane when inebriated. That boy was so insistent that he hadn't been drinking. I found him surrounded by dozens upon dozens of empty bottles and he still thought that he could lie to me. He was in an utter state of confusion."
The human crossed arms and shook his head, "But he was never drunk. He was simply recovering from having his memories yanked away into magical crystals."
"That…" England backed away. His elbows rested on the table and he leaned into his hands. "But...that would mean that they were originally based in my place. How could I not have felt any-"
The masked figure shook his head, "No, they started out in Canada but when the nation's government started looking for him, they had to move him. They hoped that by having a close distance with another nation, it would attract your attention."
"No. Such things only happen when sections of the International Personification Law is put into effect. Imagine, if we could tell whenever a nation arrived in our place then we would always be aware of it, even if they're simply flying over. It would disturb our sleep and work. Not to mention, immature nations-" he gave a small cough. "-would probably find it hilarious to jump in and out of borders to bother people."
"Speaking of which, do you know what it means when you deal with that law? Is it magic? Canada, America and Australia acted like they felt something when a section was put into effect."
"No...it's not. It has kind of always been there. I...I..." He paused and scratched his head, "I've never really thought about it. We made that agreement from a growing combination of different policies. I presume that because it's official paperwork then it ties to us like politics and economic growth."
"But what is it?" The human asked.
"I...don't know. Hold up-how are you still the same bloody age!?"
Titre: Coeurs blasés
..
Leurs yeux se sont éteints dans la dernière Nuit ;
Ils ont voulu la vie, ils ont cherché le Rêve
Pour leurs coeurs blasphémants d'où l'espoir toujours fuit.
Ils n'ont jamais trouvé la vraie et bonne sève.
..
En vain ont-ils tué l'âme dans la débauche,
Il reste encore, effroi ! les tourments du Remords.
L'Ange blême se dresse et se place à leur gauche,
Leur déchire le coeur râlant jusqu'à la Mort.
..
-Emile Nelligan
Once the man's voice finished reciting the French poem, the bear and the boy reached the end of the bridge. On the other side, there was a familiar cabin waiting for them. The boy stopped clutching at the bear's soft white fur and bolted to it.
"I know this. I know this," He repeated as he ran.
The bear chased after him, "No Matthew, wait!" Too late.
"Papa? Papa?" he called inside. "Papa, where are you?" He looked around the interior. It was filled with empty chairs and lonely toys.
"Over here, my little colony." The tenor voice chimed as he appeared sitting in the large chair at the end. The older nation's back was turned. Mathieu ran up to him and was quickly picked up into a hug. He was about to hug back but found himself screaming instead. France was without a face.
Horrified, the little colony kicked and swung his arms around until he was dropped. Without care for his injuries, he quickly crawled away. All the while above him, France asked what was wrong. At last the bear rushed in and shielded the young boy. Mathieu hid his face in the polar bear's fur.
"I told you to wait." The bear said gently. "Hold on…"
"Mathieu….Mathieu…." said a voice above them. The entire cabin shook and the faceless France shrieked before backing away into a corner. The bear dug his claws into the floorboards.
"Mathieu...Mathieu...wake up...wake up…"
There was a bright flash. The boy found himself sitting up in bed and wrapped in warm covers. France, with a face this time, was standing over him with a worried expression. The little blond's head felt very warm and his body felt exhausted.
"Are you okay? You were screaming."
"I…" the little colony sniffled, "I was scared. I dreamt that you had no face and...and..." He began to cry.
All of a sudden he was pulled into a deep embrace, "Oh, my little child. That was only a nightmare. It wasn't real." The older one pulled away then gave him a calming smile, "Do you really believe that I would let my pretty face disappear like that?"
Matheiu giggled, "Of course not papa. But isn't that...um...conceited?" He giggled harder at his usage of the new word. The Frenchman looked very surprised and raised an eyebrow.
" 'Conceited?' My little child, where did you learn that English word?"
"That man that visited us the other day said it to you. One of the traders told me what it means. I thought it was very funny."
There was an annoyed frown that flashed through the older one's face and he muttered something indistinguishable. "Listen to me, Mathieu. You must never repeat anything that man says. He is a very bad man and absolutely dreadful at cooking. Whatever you do, you must avoid him at all costs."
"But you said he has another child exactly like me."
France patted his head, "And you might get to meet him one day. But for now you must be content with playing with your little bear friend."
"But I heard the other men talk about turning him into a huge fur coat!" There were tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
The older man gasped and hugged the boy again, "No, no, no. I won't let them. I promise."
"You promised that with Cassi*…" he muttered.
"But dear, 'Cassi' was a beaver. You can't have a pet beaver." He untangled himself from the boy's tight grip and pulled the covers to tuck him in, "You must get more rest. Your fever is still not going down and you have started to say some very silly things."
"I'm not tired at all and it's not sill-"
"Shhh...shhh." The older nation paused, "Would you like me to tell you a story?"
"Yes, please, papa."
He began to recite a tale about a young woman who stood up to fight for her land. She went on to defeat the evil half-wizard half-dragon Arthur but unfortunately his dying breathe caused her to be set to flames, leaving nothing but her heart-shaped medallion. The medallion was tossed into the river to be carried away by the stream and folks ever after called it the singing river.
It wasn't a very relaxing story and Francis had to constantly pause to think up of more on the spot. Regardless, little Nouvelle France found his eyes drooping and him falling asleep. Later, the door creaked as it closed. Kumajirou walked quietly from the corner he had been watching. He shook the boy awake again.
"Canada, we have to go now."
There was groan and the little boy turned around, "I don't want to, Kumajirou, and you know that I am a very sick." He coughed for emphasis, "Just leave me alone. I do not know who this Canada person is...but he can't be all that important."
"This a dream so you aren't really sick. We have to leave...these are just your memories. If you sleep here, you will get carried away by it all and it will be harder to leave and go further along our journey."
"No." The child stubbornly said as he clutched at his blankets, "I don't want to follow you. I know who I am now. Leave me be."
The bear growled, "These next memories are not going to be as nice!"
"Mathieu?" A voice called down from the hall. The walls were distorting and the young boy closed his eyes quickly. He curled up into the fabric. The room stabilized.
"I will not go with you." The young boy's voice became very severe. "Please. Leave."
And with that order, the bear was swept away by an invisible force made by the boy's mind. No one else remained in the room.
Mathieu slept without anymore nightmares and only dreamt of another voice reciting a poem. At first, he didn't understand it but slowly enough he got used to the language. He was slowly remembering what English was, what the English were and what both of these things meant.
Title: "And He said, Fight on."
..
Time and its ally, Dark Disarmament,
Have compassed me about,
Have massed their armies, and on battle bent
My forces put to rout;
But though I fight alone, and fall, and die,
Talk terms of Peace? Not I.
(Tennyson)
..
They war upon my fortress, and their guns
Are shattering its walls;
My army plays the cowards' part, and runs,
Pierced by a thousand balls;
They call for my surrender. I reply,
'Give quarter now? Not I.'
..
They've shot my flag to ribbons, but in rents
It floats above the height;
Their ensign shall not crown my battlements
While I can stand and fight.
I fling defiance at them as I cry,
'Capitulate? Not I.'
..
-Pauline Johnson
1763: Two weeks after the Treaty of Paris is signed
"Matthew! You have to come out of there at some point!"
"No! I refuse to listen to you and do what you say! And my name is pronounced Mathieu, not your damn English version!"
"I can barely understand a word you're saying! You're British now so stop speaking French! Francis is gone! He's chosen the sugar plantations over you, so get over it!" England yelled back. There was no response. He groaned and stomped downstairs, muttering stubborn child all the way.
Once certain that the older nation had left, the little child popped his head out from under his covers. He rubbed at his eyes and tried to wipe evidence away from his cheeks.
He hated that they had lost. The British had gotten lucky getting through the river and making a crossing during night. The soldiers that France had left were not enough to protect him and naval blockades kept away more reinforcements. It was unlikely that such reinforcements would have been sent anyways. The mere cost alone was enough of a deterrent.
And that was exactly what stung.
It was the cold-hearted consideration of this little colony's value. According to them, he was only a few acres of snow.* The fur trade was a declining trend now and he knew it. Sugar Plantations were definitely making more money than him. Even Montcalm, the one in charge of leading the soldiers that defended him, wanted to be off fighting in Europe rather than here. It hurt the young child but he understood enough that it was nothing personal, only politics.
It was only because of politics that Francis' visits had lessened the past years before, that the sugar colonies were chosen over him in that treaty, and that he now felt this growing sense of abandonment. It was only because of politics that in the coming month Alfred, a weird nation that looked like him, would be coming to stay over for a while. It was only because of politics that he was trapped in this house. Knock! Knock! He looked over to the door.
"Hey, lad…" England's voice spoke through the door. The sound of a plate being placed on the floor could be heard. "You're still going to need to eat."
"..."
There was another sigh, "I know it's hard to accept and I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. But can't we try to be civil? Not as nations...but at least as people?"
"..."
"I'll leave the food outside your door."
Then the sound of his boots descended the stairs again. Creak! Mathieu picked up the plate, closed the door again and placed it on his side-table. It didn't look disastrous, as France had warned him, or maybe that was because he had a neighbour cook it. The boy tried a bit and chewed thoughtfully.
Politics didn't care how you felt, only what you did. What is important? What do you choose to fight for? Where do your loyalties lay? How can you help me?
Downstairs, there would be no one eating at the table with the older nation today. A lot of important matters still needed to be dealt with yet England, the supposed monster from his bedtime stories, made time for supper. The younger nation still had a few difficulties understanding English but he recognized an argument when he heard it. Arthur was doing this all on his own.
Guiltily, Mathieu took another slow bite. Or was it just England's facade? Did that matter? Another pause of silence passed. He stood and carried his half-finished plate as he walked downstairs.
Politics didn't care how you felt but he certainly did.
Outside the house, a bear desperately tried to get close to the door. A shield of some sort surrounded it. He dug at the ground in frustration. He shouted and growled. It was futile and the next memory set itself up.
1811: A forest near Matthew's old colonial house
"I'm offering you a chance to join me!"
Matthew sighed tiredly, "You're going to drag me into more of your mess with England." Snow crunched underneath their feet as they walked further into the forest.
"I don't intend to-"
"Then don't do it, eh?"
"You're my brother and I care about you. That's why I think it's a great idea that we join up to get old eyebrows off the continent. Come on! How awesome does that sound?"
The northern colony frowned slightly and shook his head, "You know that I can't do that."
The air was quite cold even though it was nearing springtime. Their foggy breathes were let out in close sync. They quietly continued to walk. Hidden away in the American's pockets, Alfred's hands were curled into fists of frustration. Matthew didn't see them but he could figure it out. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve.
Wanting to avoid an argument, he patted his brother's shoulder and turned to walk away. "I'm going home. You should too. You don't want anyone catching you here," he shouted behind him. He could hear that the American was still not moving.
"As your brother, I'm asking you. Are you sure?" Alfred shouted back.
When it seemed like America was refusing to leave without an answer, Matthew looked back over his shoulder, "As your brother, I'm telling you. Please, don't involve me."
1812: Makeshift shelter in a snowstorm.
"What are the odds we get stuck in the same snow storm, huh?"
Matthew took a sip of his whiskey, "We are the only ones able to regenerate when shot at on the field, it's winter, and we've been battling in the same areas. Not that slim of a chance."
"Well, someone's moody." Alfred reached over to grab the bottle out of Matthew's hand. It was pointedly kept away. "Hey!" he uttered in protest and pouted a little.
The northern personification looked at him with a deadpan expression, "You're my enemy. I should kick you out and leave you to deal with that snowstorm. I have not forgotten what you've burned down into ashes.*"
America kept his lips shut.
"But frankly, I don't want to fight right now. Too many men have been lost today," Matthew continued with a small shrug, though his body remained stiff. Alfred shifted around awkwardly. The northern nation's tactful mask of emotions was getting better with every passing year. Matthew took another sip of alcohol. After staring at the wall for a few seconds, he held out the bottle to ease the discomforting tension. "Besides, you're going to retreat anyways."
'A mere matter of marching*, my ass!' went the hidden message.
Alfred took a big sip, oblivious or flat out ignoring the pointed glare that came with it. He frowned, "Yeah, your winter is too harsh. We'll be back though." He added automatically. Matthew kept quiet for a little bit in contemplation and simply took the bottle back.
"Brother against brother it is then," the quieter one at last replied.
"If England hadn't-"
"Stop." Matthew said as he raised his palm. "You don't need to go on and on. Trust me, I already have one side pitching to me endlessly. I don't need another. I'm trying to be as neutral as possible with you two."
"But those were my sailors, my people!*"
Matthew took a swig and shook his head. "Let's not talk about politics while we're in this storm. I propose we make a tiny truce."
Alfred appeared to think about it. Finally, he nodded, "Tiny truce it is." Solemnly, they both shook hands.
Matthew then closed his eyes to listen to the storm. The wind howled and wailed, as if someone was yelling for him, desperate and sad. He reopened them again. "Hey...remember that time we were out in the forest looking for faeries-"
Alfred laughed and took a swig "-and we ended up getting lost. Man, I remember you were crying so hard."
"So were you, you big baby. You thought there were ghosts out there!"
"Nuh, uh. There were totally ghosts there-wait. Why were you crying then?"
"I thought I'd be stuck in there with you forever." Matthew said with a sly smile.
His brother playfully shoved at him a little, "Hey!"
The other twin shoved back, "Hey, yourself."
They chuckled for a bit then let a happy silence take over. They may not have had centuries of memories playing together, but every moment counted. For so long, they had played by themselves since they were always different from the other children. Even the twins' initial meeting was not the best and it had taken a quite a long time to grow accustomed to each other. Yet, from "the not-me reflection", they eventually found a way to call each other "brother."
Nevertheless, they were both forced to fight this war, bound by loyalty and by duty.
Alfred coughed, "Mattie?"
"Yeah?"
"You know this war is so stupid."
"I know, Alfred...I know."
1837: Days after the squashing of the Upper Canada rebellion
"I've had enough of this ungrateful attitude. First your brother, now you?"
He marched into the Matthew's room without so much as a knock. Canada was ready for the confrontation and stood tall.
"England, we've had enough with the government that you left here! I am more French than you think, yet still you won't listen. My people need their voice to be heard! We're tired of your bureaucratic bullshit!"
"You do have representa-"
"Unelected officials! Let's put away the lies, shall we? Between my people's voices and some groups of elites, we both know who holds more power. I must be allowed to handle some of my own internal affairs or else-"
"Or else what? You'll join your brother and fight for independence? I can squash all of your attempts just like I did with these rebellions." The older nation turned and started to walk away. "I will not stand for this insole-"
"England!" The young colony screeched, "I don't want more of this bloodshed! Please, just let my people have a say or they will continue to fight! I promise you that! We don't care how big you seem to be!"
England froze at those last words. Matthew wondered if he had struck a chord.
There was long silence. England let out a snort as he crossed his arms, however, he didn't take another step. His voice was quiet. "What have I told you about speaking French? You know that I can't understand it."
"I don't believe that any longer."
"When did you find out?"
The younger one shrugged, "France never sent any presents to cheer me up, did he?"
"I knew you would throw them out otherwise." England replied then massaged his head. Then the nation suddenly straightened out his back. He still did not turn around to face the younger one. His voice was stern once more, "I will request for Lord Durham and decisions will be made in consideration of his report.
"Thank you."
England nodded curtly and walked out.
Phone calls rang throughout the world. Yelling escalated between leaders. The media was preparing itself to let the story fly when war broke out.
And without a doubt, a war would break out.
The leader of the New World Company laughed at the news. He took a happy stroll around his headquarters. A thought came upon him. He grinned. He walked towards the Energy Draining Chambers to gloat.
And then the memories stopped all together.
The area had suddenly become a blank empty space. Or at least, this was true for the bear. Quickly, Kumajirou ran in the direction that he was facing. He could only hope that he would find the nation this way.
The bear figured that this new memory must be in the deeper recesses of the nation's brain. According to the timeline that was these were presenting themselves, the next memory would be an extremely tough one. Kumajirou hurried his pace.
With great relief, he managed to find the blond. Matthew stood nervously before a big heavy door. His attire was that of a soldier. He raised his hand to knock. The bear, finally getting through whatever block that had been there, tackled him down.
The young boy...er-the young man of nineteen now laughed, "I know if I wished for you to come you would save me from this memory."
The bear got off of him and let Matthew sit up. "So you remember now?"
"Yeah, I mean. Wow, I didn't think I would have to go through all of that to remember. Back in the last couple ones I got them all back so I do understand again why I'm here. Unfortunately, I haven't reached the memories about the Final state yet. Unless…"He looked at the door with dismay, "I'll have to go through with this one. When you said these memories weren't going to be that nice...you didn't warn me that this was queued up."
The bear looked at the door and recognized it now. The nation would be facing his boss, give the human a pointed statement that a nation should fight alongside his own men, then storm out. After this...it would only be one long muddy nightmare. One, much worse than a faceless France.
"No, you don't have to go in there. No one should have to re-live that."
The nation let out a sigh of relief and patted the bear on his head, "Thank you. I'm sorry...that I kind of kicked you out of my memories…" His uniform transformed into his casual attire.
The bear nodded. "I understand. But we have lost a lot of time. Now that you remember who you are can you bring us to the center? I mean, think about the center of this place and imagine us being there." He added the last bit as he saw the puzzled look on Matthew's face.
"O...kay…" Matthew said reluctantly. He shut his eyes and mentally chanted the word 'center' over and over again. This was the only way he thought he could bring them there. He reopened his eyes. A black gooey web was placed before him. It stuck to invisible ceilings and walls and in it large bubbles popped languidly.
"Well…" The bear choked out, "I didn't expect to see this."
"It is the cause of messing with your mind with England's magic." Another voice said as they yelled from the rushing vehicle. Upon nearing the younger nation, the car screeched to a stop. "Thank you, bear, for getting the barriers down."
The bear snorted, "It wasn't me. It was all Matthew's doing and I suppose the trickster deserves some credit."
Matthew snapped his head to the bear, "Trickster? Where? When?"
The bear smiled, "Did you honestly think you were completely alone in your memory?"
"You always had the last word." A disembodied voice said in a language, Matthew could not pin down. The elder nodded to the air, clearly the only one able to see the elusive figure. Another laugh then nothing more.
"Now let's get back to this gunk that you've let grow inside you," The Elder said and they returned all of their attention to the supposed 'center' of the younger nation.
"My memories must have left holes so my brain must've wanted to fill them." Matthew muttered, taking a step closer then jumped back as the mess tried to grab at him, "What do I do?" He turned to the Elder and Kumajirou.
"You will have to go in," said the Elder as she finished inspecting the goo closer up. "And this time the bear can't follow."
"but-" Kumajirou protested.
"No. You are here because that company of humans messed with your connections with him. That outside influence will only contaminate his mind further. He must go alone."
Matthew took a deep breath. He remembered what he had gone through, moments when he had stood up to face challenges. He let the goo grab at him and swallow him whole.
-Some time Ago-
"I think we've killed him." A voice said above him.
"No...You can't kill a nation. You know that's impossible."
"Then why is he laying on the ground like that?"
The nation groaned. His entire body felt like mush. His mind felt like it was mashed potatoes after it had been tossed against a wall. He couldn't move his body, not even to twitch a finger. He couldn't think. Everything in his brain throbbed with pain.
What happened?
Right...they had injected him with another poison today, a toxin of the most deadly of creatures. They were timing how fast his body could purge it. He grit his teeth. His mind struggled to find the motivation to think up of something else. Anything but the pain.
"Canada, can you hear us?"
He refused to respond.
They called him Canada. Hah! These human experimenters never respected him. They treated him like some experimental lab rat. Some days, they mocked how easy it was for them to take him away. Nobody pays attention, they said. Nobody minds, they said.
All of it was to mess with him mentally, on top of physically. He let it all slide. He could protect his mind that way. Then, the human above him spoke again.
" What are you doing laying on the ground? Waiting for someone to rescue you? Like anyone would look for you!"
He mouth tried to say something back but it was stuck shut. A foot stepped onto his face. He closed his eyes for the inevitable kick. He braced for it. None came.
"How sad, you're crying." The foot removed itself.
And that's what did it. That's what broke him.
He had promised to himself to never give them an emotional reaction, to stay calm. These humans would win if he showed himself breaking down. In shame, he felt his body grow colder.
"What's that?" The voice mocked as the human leaned in to 'hear', "We captured the nation that no one ever listens to? Well, that's tragic! But, it's not at all surprising. "
He wanted to fade away. He wanted to melt into the concrete below him. He thought about the nations he had been protecting with his silence.
"We really wanted your brother, you know. You were an afterthought. Actually, anyone else would do. I bet they wouldn't be this pathetic. "
He felt more minuscule and insignificant. Their words were no longer being blurred out, and without that filter, they cut DEEP. He was going to be forgotten...all the other nations...all of them...always shining brighter...always...
Especially his brother.
They were right. No one would be looking for him. He had been forced to give out lies about his whereabouts. Funny thing though, those lies didn't seem to trouble anyone. He only had to lie to his government once. No one had pressed further, as if no one cared at all.
Yet, a tiny thought popped in his mind. It stopped the depressing tangent.
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
..
That it didn't matter. Someone else noticing didn't matter.
..
..
..
..
..
His people shone, changed, progressed and achieved their goals. They weren't stopped in their tracks because of a lack of attention. Acknowledgement was great but the lack of it didn't need to be an obstacle.
Who am I? He yelled at himself in his mind. Who am I? The words swirled around. Who am I? A fire sparked.
Canada was anything but, that. Matthew was anything, but a pathetic person.
The memories fresh from his journey screamed at him. They screamed that he did have a shine of his own. They screamed that there were things he still needed to mend from his past. They screamed that he could overcome his problems and rescue himself.
And out of his figurative '99 problems' being pathetic wasn't one.
He spoke to his laughing captors, "You really shouldn't say bad things about someone while they're present." He groaned as he tried to get his shoulder back in place.
The captors snickered, "Yeah, but there's no one else here."
"Yeah," the other one laughed, "You must be an invisible nation."
Canada pushed himself up. The chains from his wrists opened up and fell to the ground. He rose tall above his captors, "So…"he looked at both of them, "I'm Invisible?"
-Present time-
Out from the goo, Canada stumbled. The bear ran forward to catch him as he fell forward.
"Thank you and-," He leaned in to whisper in the bear's ear.
The bear smiled, "You really remember now."
The Elder got back into her vehicle, "My work here is done. You are on your own now, little one."
Canada nodded. He closed his eyes once more and imagined the Energy Draining Chamber room. Another voice began to recite a poem.
Title: There Were No Signs
..
By walking I found out
Where I was going.
..
By intensely hating, how to love.
By loving, whom and what to love.
..
By grieving, how to laugh from the belly.
..
Out of infirmity, I have built strength.
Out of untruth, truth.
..
From hypocrisy, I wove directness.
..
Almost now I know who I am.
Almost I have the boldness to be that man.
..
Another step
And I shall be where I started from.
..
-Irving Layton
"I figured it out..." Canada croaked. The liquid around him entered his lungs but he did not react to it. Slowly, he opened his eyes. "What I 'mastered' all those years ago…"
"What?" someone shouted down below in panic. "What's with the machines! They're going berserk!"
The New World Order leader quickly turned to Canada. Bubbles were streaming from the nation's mouth. He shouted to the lower floor, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING! SOMEONE, GET HIM OUT AND PUT HIM UNDER AGAIN! NOW!"
Matthew's face was serene. Even as people rushed at him, armed with guns and syringes, he did not flinch. Even if he was trapped in his chamber, he was not distressed.
"No," he said. "You can't harm me any more."
As if he was a ghost, he passed through the connections, the chamber's glass, and landed onto the platform. The people who were rushing towards him froze. He landed on his feet with the biotic liquid still soaking his skin.
He looked at his hands and arms. They were glowing all over, not with green, like England's magic. No, the bright indescribable aura was something much different.
He found himself whispering with awe, "The final state..."
It was not a power, not a strength but instead a state of mind. A state of realization in which a state becomes completely self-aware of itself as a Final State, or in other words the Final Nation who fears not of the future changes. These nations or states or countries, know with certainty what they want to carry along, to uphold, to see. He heard a voice from his dream from earlier.
Those who see death, those who see spirits, those who do not fear. These are the Final States.
"No!" The leader shouted and leaned against the rails behind him to try to escape.
One step. Two steps. Three steps. Unmoved by anyone, Canada kept a steady pace. He merely had to wave his hand over those who were in his way and they instantly fell asleep. Soon, the leader and the nation were but a couple feet from each other.
Then Canada
or Matthew Williams
or Mathieu Guillaume* ex-Bonnefoy
or many other names…
he took a deep breathe.
..
Then he began to talk. At first, it was very quiet.
"For quite a long time, your family has had a quest to figure out the nations. You have studied us from afar, for almost a century. Your predecessors tortured me to find their answers. Now, it's my turn to ask you questions..."
There was a huge silence.
After a few minutes, Canada continued, "What is my kind? What are the nations?"
The human replied weakly, "You are supernatural people who draw power from a collective of people and their relations with each other...you...you...hold massive strength and energy that can be tapped into and used for-"
"You are wrong," Canada interrupted firmly.
"I..." the human's face contorted, "I...don't understand."
Indigo, a richer color than they had ever been before, bore into the man.
"We do live for very long...perhaps...to your sense of immortality, as we are forever tied with the land and the people who live in them. As long as they live or identify themselves as citizens, then we survive. Their governments recognizes us and gives us confidential political jobs to perform.. But we-though some are granted with special strengths-are powerless.
"Think of us, as two parts. One is human, one is a personified representation. And we have to find a balance. Some manage to embrace indifference and become an unattached nation-being, focused solely on their work. While some...battle with their human emotions daily. And we can't escape it. Wars, revolutions, culture trends, discriminating mentalities...these are all-encompassing things. Who knows how our brains ever manage?
"But that goes to show, we don't know all, don't feel all, which makes up a nation. That's the saving limitation of being part human. We must learn like most do, news, words, sight...what hurts us is subjective...and sometimes we are numb to even to those feelings. We can even shut ourselves off.
"I am young. I'm physically 19 years old! I am so, so young," there was a short pause, "to even those nations that live within my own borders. What I have faced, does not even come close to the others. Yet, I swear to this, that I will try to remember as much as I can. Because...
Canada looked away for a moment, as if gathering more courage to say it, then looked back.
"I believe I must."
The leader scoffed, "A walking talking history textbook...that's all you believe you are?"
Canada chuckled sadly, "No...I am as biased as any other, and still lacking in all the details. When I say I must...it's because...not many want to remember anymore. It's boring. It's dull. It's unnecessary. Every bit taught in a non-engaging cheesy way, that almost none of the details will stay after their final exam.
"With every new change, the old is revised and replaced then eventually lost. People ask who you are, and sometimes I find myself wondering why that answer must change so often, when I was so sure of my response before. Who am I?"
The buzz of the machines were low and the man just stared at the country dumbfoundedly. The leader found himself closing his mouth every time he wanted to interrupt. He was absolutely mesmerized by the nation's speech. Those below, the ones who the nation hadn't yet put to sleep, were also listening intently.
"People change and so the nations must too. And with every great change that occurs we are forced to ask ourselves deep questions. What do I value? What would I like to keep? The answer doesn't come easily. It didn't come to me quickly. Not over 70 years ago. Not even now.
"Who am I? I am who I was, now and will be. Still, never the same. I have seen many who have fallen: those who have given up and those who decide to get back up. I have been founded by three nations and in losing any of them...I lose parts of my past, of myself"
He shook his head and let his words fade away then continued.
"I am also made up of the many people who immigrated here for a better life. Even the ones who do so in these modern times. They all make up me as long as they want it. This face is only arbitrary.
"Yet after horrors and simple times, great acceptance and dreadful exclusion, none of us can truly be certain of the answers. I ask myself the same questions as any human would. Have I made the right choice?
"Regardless, I choose to keep what is invisible but makes me visible. What my people forget but carry unknowingly."
He took in another deep breathe. His hand brought itself up to his chest. He took a step forward, "My story."
"..."
"And in remembering, I have hope that someone else can be reminded of it when it's needed. If I were to vanish, they might forget what holds them together and fall apart. That is why I became their representation, a personification of this land."
Canada swallowed then went on, "You made a grave mistake by choosing me as your target. I've got a lot of experience in holding myself together and the resulting backbone to prove it."
Matthew brushed past the leader and headed over to the controls, "So don't be so sick and twisted-" He smashed at the controls but continued to talk, more bitterness growing in his voice. "-to try to even use us."
The lights from the machines shut down and he turned back to the leader, "You messed up Iceland. You tricked those three: Latvia, Sealand and Liechtenstein. In light of that, we will forgive them.".
"And what will you do about me?" For the first time, the leader feared for his safety and it reflected in his voice. He feared the nations. He feared the beings that he had treated like cattle and regarded as mere energy sources. "W-will I be sentenced to life imprisonment?"
Canada shook his head in disappointment. This leader simply did not get it. All this leader thought about was obtaining more power, not the actions that he had done. But only the greater fool would yell at a fool. He replied plainly and calmly, "I should put a bullet through your head , right now."
The man paled.
"You attacked the nations. You tried to control us. You experimented on me." His words gained more bite each second. "Sorry for such old fashioned ways but I...no...We cannot forgive you."
He walked towards the leader who continued trembling. He placed his hand on him.
"Since, you wanted power so much…Then you will become power." Canada said. The man let out a blood curdling shriek as he began to glow. He glowed brighter and brighter...and shrank in size. Until...until...Clink! A small gem remained in his place.
Canada walked over to it and crushed it underneath the heel of his foot.
He then turned to the nations inside the energy draining chambers. With a small gesture he drained the chambers of their biotic liquid, an air seal was broke and the glass doors began to slowly slide back.
Iceland's chamber was the first to open and he coughed hard as he fell on the ground. The nation still had his feathers around his face. Canada walked towards him and placed his hand on him. The symptoms began to fade.
The Nordic looked up at him gratefully, "Thanks. My puffin's voice in my head and his love for fish was starting to get annoying."
Hours later after traveling through another portal, they were all in Romania's house each waiting to call their bosses to prevent war from happening. Alfred was still trying to get Matthew to explain why he looked so weird.
"I have no idea what you're talking about Al."
"Oh come on. I'm not blind!" The American said with a wide grin, "You've got a new nation superpower now, don't you? Something's different about you."
The Canadian looked at his hands, "I don't see it all. Am I still glowing?"
"No."
"Okay...am I a different color?"
"No."
"Then what is it, Alfred?"
"I don't know...you just seem different."
England joined them, "Okay, Alfred your boss is on the line, you should probably leave your friend alone now."
"Friend?" Alfred said as he walked over. "You do realize I was talking to Matthew, right?"
The Island nation jolted upright and slapped his forehead, "Why...yes...that is Matthew." He looked to the nation, "Sorry about that, lad."
Canada gulped. He looked at his hands again. Was this one of the side effects from before?
A/N: Wooo! I am so glad to be done this chapter. I've written up Canada's monologue at the end months ago and it feels great to finally put it into the story.
Next time: A trial and tying up loose ends. Yes, it is time to end this 100k+ word count beast.
In light of the many foot notes: I'll order them categorically instead of chronologically as they appear in the story.
Historical References/Tidbits:
*The Viking: Erik Leif, arrived in North America around 500 years before Columbus. I did mention earlier that the N.A twins had been spirits and took forms after the explorers arrived. Would it be my headcanon that this would make Matthew related to the Nordics? Not really...the settlement didn't last.
*Ojibwe/Anishinaabe people (There's so many variations): This group is one of the largest First Nation peoples in North America and because of this, there are various distinct tribes within this group of people. Generally, through oral recounts they used to live on the east coast then migrated inland. I know that's not a lot of in-depth research but I really only wanted to include a modern representative of a living group. Again, the First Nations are made up of many, many groups and I had to get this plot ending.
*Nanabush: The trickster, or as referred to here as Nanabush (Nanabozo), is a prominent and important figure in First Nation mythology often a comical character who shapes and interacts with the world, sometimes a shape-shifter. Mythology around him was not really used in this story. The character's purpose was for guiding Matthew (or misleading take your pick).
*He was only a few acres of snow: Voltaire was a famous french philosopher, writer, historian during this time period. In one of his books "Candide" two characters have a dialogue about the Seven Years' War (a.k.a French and Indian War or Guerre du Conquete). One says that Canada is only a few a few acres snow and pointless to fight over. Voltaire himself says various things to this same effect and there is a fair amount of people in France who agreed.
*"Don't think I've forgotten what you've burned to ashes" : After winning the battle of Fort York (Presently:in Toronto) Many houses were robbed and then, it was all burned to the ground. To put this into perspctive, this would be Canada's capital that they burned down. Nevertheless, the British got back at them by burning down the White House.
*"A mere matter of marching" : Reference to a remark made by Thomas Jefferson. Original Quote from his letter to Colonial Duane: "The acquisition of Canada this year, as far as the neighborhood of Quebec, will be a mere matter of marching, and will give us experience for the attack of Halifax the next, and the final expulsion of England from the American continent."
*But those were my sailors, my people!: A big cause for the War of 1812 was England 'recruiting' (kidnapping) American sailors for the nation's fight with Napoleon, claiming that they were runaway British sailors (because who can tell?). This of course goes against respecting American sovereignty so they declare war. Unfortunately, a big ocean divides these two powers. So, next best thing. Invade the British Colony to the north. (Overall, this entire thing was a mess and who won? Is still up for debate. There is no doubt who lost the most though: The First Nations.)
*Rebellions of 1837: Both Upper and Lower Canada (named after their positions along the St. Lawrence river) were governed by elected assemblies and appointed councils with overlapping powers. On top of that, add economic troubles, crop failures, a cholera outbreak in Lower Canada and in November there was a violent clash by patriote rebels and the British militia. This attempt at uprising was quickly squashed (though they would later try again in 1838 but again are defeated). In Upper Canada, William Lyon Mackenzie ,finished with getting reform through political means and inspired by the Lower Canada rebellions, decided to take that more violent approach. Again it was squashed. Whether the rebellions led to the road of independence is up to debate. It did lead to the Lord Durham report (which was heavily Anglophone biased) which recommended unifying Lower and Upper Canada into a single province.
Poems and Poets:
*My rough translation of the French Poem (My french is pretty weak but I couldn't find an online source for the translation):
Title: Jaded Hearts
Their eyes were blown out in the last Night;
They wanted life. They searched for the Dream
For in their blasphemous hearts hope always flees
They have never found truth and life's energy.
..
In vain they have killed the soul inside debauchery,
Yet fright still remains! The agony of Remorse.
The pale Angel rises and is put to their left,
Their tearing of the heart roars until Death.
*Margaret Atwood, Emile Nelligan, Pauline Johnson, Irving Layton: These are all highly-regarded Canadian poets. I really tried to look for varying styles, varying backgrounds and poems that I could write general ties with. I never used any of their more famous poetry but I do recommend looking them up if you like poetry.
Author's Hetalia Headcanons and Other Reasoning:
*Cassi: What? You thought that America was the only one making friends with tons of animals. Meet Cassi the beaver, the unfortunate animal friend of Nouvelle France, whose current main industry at the time was the Fur Trade. His(her?) name comes from castor which is the French word for beaver. He(she?) was friends with the young colony for about ten minutes and his(her?) death made the poor boy cry for another four days.
*Mathieu Guillaume ex-Bonnefoy: Yes, I hold the headcanon that colonies take their founder's last names with an "ex" added to signify their cut. But let me explain that middle name.
There once was a fanfic that has been deleted off the internet for the author's own reasons called After the Conqueror by Kitaklaw. At some point in the story, I remember England was demanding Canada to get an English name. I especially loved this story because it mentioned how France not only lost Nouvelle France but chose to lose Nouvelle France rather than lose its Caribbean Sugar Colonies. So, Canada rejects that old last name without too much remorse but he also rejects Kirkland as his last name. Instead, he chooses an English variant of his supposed middle name, Guillaume.
Little rebellious subtle Canada makes note to reference it to Guillaume, le Conquerant (William, the Conqueror). To shorten the history: William is a French guy who became an English King through conquering means. Thus, Matthew chose to be named after the conqueror, which, of course, annoyed England quite a bit. I still cannot get over the cleverness of that and so I've adopted it as one of my headcanons for his last name.
*So why all the poetry?: Poetry works well as transitions, sets a mood and it's easier to find ones that incite less political emotions.
*What was that final state?: Remember how the guns stopped working on Romano and India. They both had a realization about a characteristic/ideal that they hold dear and went with it. They both had to do something that pushed them out of their everyday comfort zones, more so with Romano than India. That's the idea I had with the final state.
I made it something that the Ancients/Older nations have since they would know the most about ideals and characteristics that make them who they are, these would be things they hopefully realize upon their death as they overcome most of their self-made obstacles. This could get really philosophical, but I treated it more of overcoming the character flaws that they were given in the original canon. For Canada's case it was a minor inferiority complex and that worry about not being noticed.
Since Canada is in this state, he kind of has "ghostly" powers such as phasing through solid objects, moving things from a distance etc...Keep in mind though, I am hinting at its side effects when I say ghostly. There is a reason that I said this would explore Canada's invisibility. You could say that this story is now returning things to a more canon state.
Hetalia things that I recommend and almost stole lines from:
Iammathewian project on youtube: This was a channel filled with videos focused on a Canadian take of Hetalia. Sadly, the project ended more than a year ago but the many videos still remain. Quality in the videos varies but I'm still laughing at parts (after four years of watching it no less!). There are Province/Territory O.C's in it BUT THEY ARE WONDERFUL! I would give a 20/10 for their portrayal of interactions between provinces. In my opinion, it's very funny and accurate to various degrees. I personally recommend watching The Meeting at Montgomery's Tavern. I was very tempted to write that dialogue out verbatim for the 1837 segment of this story because it's so amazingly perfect for such a moment.