Survive to Fight
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Chapter 3: A Need to Belong
Alfred F. Jones stared at himself in the mirror. At 19 years old he was hailed a prodigy, he and numerous others across the world, but he was different. Alfred F. Jones had once been the personification of America, he had once spoken every language in the world with ease, he had fought in numerous wars, he had lived and fought for nearly all his life, and now he stood in front of a mirror about to take a role in politics he had never dreamed of. As a nation he could never be a leader, in fact he had been quite content with his role of running the government without having to be a face.
That was no longer an option. He highly doubted it ever would be again.
He felt old. Weary, as he carried around the secret of the world in his mind knowing that if he should ever meet the people he used to call friends and colleagues they wouldn't know, they wouldn't remember him and all they had lived through before.
It hurt. It hurt to remember a whole other life that had belonged to him and yet no one else did. No the history of the nations and the memory of their positions had been completely eradicated from even the oldest files of government history according to the spirits that he had contacted as soon as he realized the horrifying nightmares and dreams he'd had were actually real.
It hurt to remember he had a brother who no longer knew him, that he had had some semblance of a family and rivalry and friendships and it was gone. The first thing he had done was wept. He had cried at his own stupidity for daring to think it would end that the world could survive without him when in fact it would be him to fix everything and he would have to do it as a human in order for it to matter. He had cried out of frustration and fear that he wouldn't be able to do it at all and he had lost everything on a small chance of hope that he didn't feel anymore.
He had felt hope blossom when he had seen Arthur Kirkland, prodigy politician of the United Kingdom who was about to become Prime Minister, on the television and remembered England. He had known then he had to do something. He had to prove he could be a hero, he could save this world, If England existed in the form of a young man from the United Kingdom, and the others surely existed in their nationalities as well. Maybe he could bring back together their dysfunctional and wide spread family.
He needed them. He needed to feel like he belonged somewhere again. He looked at humans and saw all their potential but he didn't feel like he was one. He still possessed an enormous amount of the qualities that had made him a nation. He still had the knowledge, he had less strength but was still stronger than average, and he still had a purpose that drove nations and had brought some nations to their knees.
He looked at himself and saw old eyes on a young face. He looked at himself and saw Alfred F. Jones, child prodigy politician who would step out onto the platform and become President of the United States of America. He looked at himself and saw the reflection of a nation, of America, who would do anything for the benefit of others. He looked at himself and saw someone lonely and set so far apart from others he wondered if he would even have the strength to fight and save the world from the problems that had begun with nations and were sure to end some.
He stared in the mirror and thought of Canada, England, France, Japan, Lithuania, Greece, Sealand, Russia, Belarus, Spain, Germany, Italy, and all the other nations that he had failed and let down when he had been one because he had been so sure of himself that he hadn't thought of a time where they would pay the consequences for his failure. He thought of the people in the world who would never know his sacrifice if he managed to fix everything and he smiled.
No one would know that a man who had once been a self-proclaimed hero had died to fix mistakes.
No one would know the man that fought for what he thought was right.
No one would be aware of his love for a man who no longer existed.
No one would know that Alfred F. Jones was America.
No one would know how he was a disappointment.
No one would know about his failure.
All they would see is a man determined to help his country and the others.
All they would see is a man who was confident and self-aware.
All they would see is a young prodigy taking the pedestal of what all Americans should stand for.
Alfred F. Jones did what he had done best as America. He put on a fake smile and walked out of his room and into chaos about to speak words that would change the world. He smiled and pretended he didn't have a single worry. He smiled in that charming and charismatic way, his eyes alight with mischief as if he knew something no one else did, looking like he belonged there even if he didn't feel like it, and let his grin widened as he let the words of the speaker wash over him.
"…proud to present Alfred F. Jones, your new President of the United States of America."
He stepped out to the flashes of cameras and not once did he give away his true emotions. He would never show these people that he felt like he didn't belong. Somewhere all across the world he had a family, that was the only place he felt he needed to belong. One day he would get it back, but for now, that could wait.