"What just happened?" America asked once Scotland and Wales came into the common area. Ireland was told what happened in the other room, and he was completely surprised. He kept looking at America with slight awe.
"I could be asking you the same question," Scotland said, scowling at America. They had a face off for a good long moment before Scotland broke it off with an eyeroll. "Amnesia," he said, "I thought you'd be a bit smarter than that."
"But… Mum?" Canada asked.
"Oh, that." Scotland put his hand on the back of his neck and closed his eyes in thought. "Our mother was Britannia. She raised all of us for a time, but then she just faded away one day. The last time any of us saw her was at Stonehenge, telling us to get along, protect each other, brotherly duties."
"We all took it hard," Wales said, "Especially England. He was only a newborn at the time."
"So you have to help repair all his memory," Ireland stated, "Great."
Northern Ireland stared hard at Ireland. When his brother looked up, Northern Ireland went back to his usually cheery self. "It could be worse," Northern Ireland said, "He could have had complete amnesia and not know he was a nation. Though, it's really unexpected." Northern Ireland's face fell into a serious, thoughtful look. "I'd never expect it to go that far. Only to maybe 1707. After all, that was when Great Britain was first officially formed."
"It could be that he might have woken from a dream," Wales mused, "I know that you can't get your bearings when you've been taken out of a dream."
They stayed there in silence for a time. Scotland eventually broke it. "We should head out to York. The city would only confuse England if he really is stuck as a toddler."
"Tomorrow?" Wales asked.
Scotland nodded. "No point now. I don't like driving at night and since I'm the only one who can drive…" America raised his hand excitedly, like a little school boy. "…by English rules," Scotland added, "I don't want any more trouble than there already is." America put his hand down sulkily.
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After dinner, Scotland went outside for a smoke. Canada followed him, but only to talk. There was still something bothering Canada about what happened in England's room.
Scotland offers a cigarette to Canada, who shakes his head. Once Scotland lit his own, he looks at Canada and asks what he wanted.
"Did America do something bad?" Canada asked slowly. He spun his thumbs around nervously.
Scotland raised an eyebrow. "No, I just don't trust his driving skills."
"No, I mean back in England's room," Canada clarified, "You kept looking at America angrily. And when we told Ireland about it, he looked really impressed."
"Oh, that…" Scotland blew out some smoke before proceeding, "I have a good feeling he used magic. There were sparks when he grabbed England's shoulders. Who knows what he did exactly and how it affected England's condition."
"But he doesn't have any. And even if he did, how can he use magic if he doesn't even believe in it."
"Magic can be used subconsciously. He wanted England to get better, and suddenly England got out of his catatonic state for a bit. Besides, you two do have magic. You've both used it before."
"Really?" Canada was surprised. He had no memories of ever using magic, and barely any of magic in it of itself, just a few scattered fragments and the few accidents at world meetings involving England.
"Aye, I can't believe you've forgotten. You two grew up with magic."
Canada closed his eyes for a moment. "I remember England reading to us and making the stories come to life, but other than that."
Scotland nodded. "I guess you two were young. You were better at it than America. You used it more." Scotland glanced at Canada, who was looking down at the curb. "You should head inside, you look like you are about to fall over your own two feet."
Canada nodded and went back inside. He wasn't really tired so much as worn. He had recently been to meeting after meeting concerning world order; all of which he was just sitting and listening to the bosses argue. He really wanted to sit them down and have them just talk like normal people and realize everyone has feelings, but that was not his role in these meetings nor would it actually do much good.
And then this came up. Canada knew how fragile England was emotionally, but he never expected something like this so late. He wouldn't have been so surprised if this happened in the first week or so. But now it was pressing on to the third month since the dissolution. And anyway, it couldn't have been just an overdose to get high; there had to be another reason.
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Northern Ireland watched his brother pace the bedroom they were sharing for the night. Wales and Scotland had the other free bedroom and the North American brothers were in the common area. For the past half hour, Ireland had been trying to work a spell without much success. He could only get random sparks to fly from his hands.
"You're probably just tired," Northern Ireland suggested.
Ireland didn't respond; it was official, he was pissed. He always got quiet when he was annoyed with something.
"You could have stayed home if you didn't want to come," Northern Ireland said. He felt bad about the whole situation, but he was also kind of annoyed by Ireland's attitude. It was very bad timing all the way around.
"No, we had a promise."
"I would have come back once everything had been resolved."
"And by the looks of it now, that's going to take a long time, and you would have probably asked me to come anyway."
Northern Ireland sighed. "Ire, what are you trying to prove?"
Ireland stopped pacing and looked at his twin questioningly. "Nothing…?"
"Sure, and you are being stubborn for no reason. You don't do that."
Ireland sat down on the edge on the bed. "I'm not trying to prove anything."
"Then what's all this about?"
Ireland stayed quiet.
"I know you don't want to be here, and I can't understand why you're here in the first place because of that. If you're going to stay, at least try to be less… moody. And more helpful. They are still your family, whether you acknowledge it or not."
Ireland rolled his eyes, and let himself fall on the bed.
"What were you trying to do anyway?"
Ireland took out a wooden charm of a sheep. "Trying to make this actually useful. My magic isn't working properly."
"It's probably the city atmosphere," Northern Ireland said, "Don't you have trouble whenever you go to world meetings at America's place too?"
Ireland nodded. "I'll be glad when we get to York."
"What's the charm for?"
"Protection from illness. I know you are going to want to use that healing spell of yours when it rains. I figure that we only need one sick person to worry about."
Northern Ireland smiled and gave Ireland a tight hug. "Thank you, Ire. You should make one for yourself too, so that you don't get sick either."
Ireland raised an eyebrow.
"I won't dance without you." Northern Ireland said with a smile on his face.
Ireland looks at his brother for a moment, then smiles a little. "…who would I be if I said no to you?"
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America lay on the sleeping bag, not exactly sure what to make of the situation. England was going to live; not much of a surprise there since he was a nation and he was the most stubborn one of all. But he lost his memory, or stuck in a memory, or something.
"Agh!" America groaned in frustration. That was not mentioning the fact that England got into this mess in the first place because of an overdose. America could handle the drunkenness… sort of, a part of him was still in prohibition mode, but drugs? He never thought that England would go that far.
"Something wrong?" Canada asked, coming into the room. He had a concerned look on his face and was holding Kumajirou very tightly. America could have sworn the little stuffed animal blinked, but he brushed it aside thinking it was just because he was tired.
"I don't get why England would do this," America said bitterly.
Canada started getting into his sleeping bag, avoiding America's eyes. He doesn't say anything, mostly focusing on the back of Kumajirou's head.
"You know, don't you?" America said.
Canada nodded slowly. "After you got your independence, England got shitfaced, trying to forget the pain of the whole ordeal. Since he was still on our side of the world at the time, I took care of him until he got better. At least good enough to go on a ship home."
"But why? Why then, and why now?"
"He doesn't want to be alone," Canada said simply.
"He's like the king of solitude, though. He reads books all day and watches the rain fall."
America waited for some reply from Canada, but none came. He looked over, and saw that Canada was passed out; his glasses askew and an arm outstretched toward America. America took Canada's glasses off and placed them in a safe place nearby.
'I never knew…' America thought as he got comfortable again in the sleeping bag, staring up at the ceiling. It was true, he knew that England had friend issues, but he never said anything about it, so America always thought he was fine with being alone.
Taliesin came into the room and got up right into America's face. America gave the dragon the evil eye. Dragons didn't exist, he knew that. Yet, here was a dragon, right in front of his very eyes. Had he finally cracked? Or…
'Northern Ireland did something…" America remembered. He pushed the dragon off him and turned over to sleep. 'Maybe this is just a temporary trick or something like that,' he though. The last thing he remembered was Taliesin curling up right beside him.
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Wales was getting nowhere in the book he bought at a used book store. There was too much going on, and the sentence about lost magic orbs has lost its meaning. His mind was in the other room, where England lay with mismatched memories of a time long past. There wasn't anything Wales could do, and that helplessness was eating at him. He had thought he had gotten used to feeling helpless. Apparently not.
From the distance, Wales could hear sirens wailing in the distance. He turned to glance out the window, but instead saw Scotland at the wheel of a car, groaning. Wales turned around and saw the Irish twins looking mildly concerned, Canada looking back at the police car following them, America looking terrified for whatever reason, and England, unconscious and lying against Canada's shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me," Scotland said through gritted teeth.
Wales closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, he was back in the flat, his book still on his lap. He sighed and closed the book, knowing he wasn't going to read any more of it that night. As a part of Wales' magic, he was able to get glimpses of the future. He could not control any of it, and there were times where it was very jarring.
'What is a police car following us for?' Wales thought, trying to read details from the vision, '…America did look terrified… did he do something?' He dearly hoped not.
"…it's Ireland's problem," Scotland voice comes from outside the door, "Not Wales', not North's, and especially not the North American brothers'. Just be patient, will ye?" Wales could tell that Scotland was trying to be quiet, but the walls were very thin in the flat. After a few moments, Scotland spoke again, "Aye, I know. You can wait a bit longer, can ye?" The door flies open and Scotland entered the room in a bit of a huff.
Wales raised an eyebrow. Scotland's own magic allowed him the ability to see and communicate with ghosts naturally. According to Scotland, it was very awkward during meetings when ghosts of prior bosses came around and tried to argue too. "You made a deal with a ghost?" Wales asked his brother.
"It's not like that. It's just Mum," Scotland clarified, unbuttoning his shirt. "Honestly, I've seen her more dead than alive." He slipped his shirt off and sat on the bed.
"Why? What does she want?"
Scotland shook his head, "It has to do with Ireland, and only him."
Wales highly doubted it, but he knew Scotland well enough to know that he wouldn't say anything else on the matter. "Fair enough." The thought of Britannia brought some sadness to Wales' heart. The two of them were close and he learned much from her about magic and being a nation. "Still… what I wouldn't give to see her again."
"Trust me, you're fine with not seeing her on a constant basis."
"But you still have conversations with her."
Scotland turned off the light and the two of them got in to bed. "Do you want me to give her a message?" Scotland asked.
"Really?"
"Would I ask if I didn't mean it?"
Wales sat up and gave Scotland a pointed look. Over the centuries, Scotland loved pulling pranks on everyone. They had gotten milder over the years, but there are some things that you just don't forget. "Yes, yes you would."
Scotland rolled his eyes, "I mean it this time."
"Tell her she was right," Wales said quietly, after lying in silence for a while.
"About what?"
Wales smirked in the darkness, "She'll know."
Author's Note: You know, it helps when you actually upload the next chapter and not have it just sit in the doc manager section of the site. Anyway, this is this week's update. If you like what you read, please comment. I like reading them.