"How is he?" The question was breathlessly asked by England and America in unison. France fell into a chair and sighed. "Sleeping. They cannot find why 'e is not waking up." America looked devastated. "No!" He fought back tears. "He can't-" He gasped, trying to convey his feelings without using the forbidden word, tears gathering at the edge of his vision. "Shhh." England soothed, wiping America's eyes with his sleeve. "It's okay, he's going to fine." America cast a doubtful look at England through his wet eyes, and England was quick to reassure that they were not just empty words.
"You don't know, because you had me protecting you while you grew, but its normal for nations." England explained. "When you get weak, or lose a lot of land mass, the country will put you to sleep as your body changes to match the land mass. It also helps so you don't go into shock from pain." England advised. "Don't you remember how Canada grew much slower than you and Australia did? Canada is just growing smaller to match the land. He will be fine. " France nodded encouragingly to Americva from across the room. "Oui. Both England and I did this at least once. 'e will be fine."
Despite his strong words, France looked drawn, as though he'd not not slept in several days, his clothing was rumpled and his hair was carelessly pulled back, to the point where America had barely regonizedbhim when he entered the tent. America wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and asked, almost shyly, "Can I see him?" France pursed his lips, but the answer came from a man in a general's uniform at the mouth of the tent who had entered silently.
He spoke in a québécois French accent. "Unfortunately, we cannot allow the personnifications of any country to see Canada at this time. He sent a hard glance towards America. "especially any country we are at war with." All the countries seemed to deflate at this news, Ann England shook his head, laughing lightly. "Ah, of course. I understand," The man cut him off. "Officially, of course." he smiled. "However, the immediate family of one 'Mathew Williams' are certainly welcome to visit."
France snapped his head up. "you can't mean-" The man stepped to the side of the tent, gesturing to the opening. "If Alfred Jones, Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefey would please follow me." France was crying again, wiping tears from his eyes, uncaring for his appearance, and America looked like he might follow suit. England pushed himself to his feet, moving swiftly, and the others followed closely behind.
The tiny, still form on the bed shuddered as they entered, but made no other sign of life. Francis rushed and grabbed his hand, crying, overcome with emotions. America claimed the other hand, while England seated himself at the head of the bed, combing through Canada's wavy hair with one hand.
England gazed sadly at the tiny country, now much the same size as when he was only one of England's colonies. "I should never have told you to go be independent," England whispered, conflicted feeling showing on his face. "I should have kept you, and protected you."
America snapped his head up, glaring at England's words. "He wouldn't have been happy if you did that!" he shot back. "He would just feel as though he wasn't good enough for you." He twined his finger into his brother's tiny hands. "He was so happy when you made him independent, it was nearly overpowering." America scoffed, remembering the warmth that had flooded the bond, nearly knocking America out with the sudden euphoria.
America would never admit it, but he knew ever since that day, England had been Canada's idol. It should have been him, who won his independence first, but then Canada went and earned his independence without any fighting and suddenly America's big fight seemed so pointless. America was still bitter about it.
"Oui." France agreed, giving England a rather bitter look. "Mon petite Canada was so 'appy when you recognized him." He sighed to himself. "Oh, what I would 'ave given up to stay by his side as he grew." he said the words wistfully. "Canada was so sweet and cute, mon petit cher, always calling me "big brother" and clinging to me." He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Canada's hand. "He still hasn't changed."
America was not to be outdone. "Well, Canada always followed me everywhere! and when England went out and left us alone all the time, Canada would cook stuff for me, and -" He choked on his words. America bent his head against his brother's hand. So many times he'd taken his brother for granted flashed through his mind, and memories of times Canada had supported him when he needed it most. America swallowed hard. "I won't let him do it. I won't let my boss destroy you." But those words were empty, America knew. Because a country cannot force their boss to stop anything. He tried again, in little more than a whisper." I won't help him. I won't do what he's asked."
England glanced nervously at the infirmary doorway, and not seeing anyone there, pulled out his wand. America tensed. "What are you-"England hushed him. "I'm going to wake him up." France moved to the doorway. "I'll keep watch." he move quickly, with obvious confidence in England's magic skills. America had seen England use magic before, of course when he was younger, but it had been so long he chose to believe it was fake.
Yet somehow, before his eyes, England was glowing, and he waved his wand and a stream of light seemed to hit Canada, who glowed briefly. England swayed, but France moved quickly and caught him, steadying him. All eyes turned to the bed. Slowly, the boys eyelashes fluttered, then his eyes blinked open. The boy's Violet eyes took in his surroundings quietly, before settling on each of the countries one at a time.
For a moment, there was silence, then, ever so softly, the boy whispered a question. "Who are you?"
