Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia!
A/N: Hey, everyone!
Whew, this chapter took forever! I hated re-editing it just because of how long it was. Gosh, everyone loved South when she first came out. She was just too darn cute for everyone to handle.
Right, before I forget, Good day to our British and Australian readers, hola to our Philippine readers, bonjour to our Canadian readers (yes I know you don't all speak French), Nǐ hǎo to our Chinese readers, and a big welcome back to my family!
We have a family here in the Fanficiton world. It's small and broken, but it's good. Please meet our sisters Medusa, Dala, and Milana. Our daughters Little Yellow Sunflower, Naru, Back, Missy, Mantyke, and Caha. Our puppy Clio (who pops in from time to time). Our son Toni. And our cousins Cave and Jaina. Feel free to join our family. How do you do this? By getting to know us! Review and we will answer every one of them. I swear.
Enjoy! Please review!
What are big brothers for?
Once more, Russia had found himself locked away in the surveillance room. Nothing any agent said could convince him to leave the confines of the darkness. Not even sunflowers or the threats of calling Belarus. Not that the threats had been very serious. No one wanted to anger Russia, not if it meant risking their lives.
Russia had been diligently staring at the wall of television screens, hoping for some sign of where America had disappeared off to, when the surveillance room's door opened and Agent Orlov arrived with a phone in hand.
"Mister Russia," Agent Orlov said without a hint of fear. "Forgive me for interrupting."
"Da, what is it?" Russia asked impatiently. He wanted to spend as much time as he could searching for America. His continued existence as a nation might be on the line.
"Mister Canada is on the phone for you," Agent Orlov said quickly, and Russia perked up. Perhaps the younger nation could be of some help. "He says it is very important that he speaks with you immediately."
"Da, I will take the phone," Russia said, all but snatching the cellphone from Agent Orlov. The human blinked once in mild surprise before leaving the room to wait outside. Russia waited until she was gone to speak into the phone.
"Privet, Little Canada."
"Bonjour, Russia," Canada said. "How are you?" His soft voice warbled through the earpiece of the phone. Russia could only guess it had to do with the growing snowstorm just outside his door.
"I am good, spasibo, (thank you,)" Russia said as pleasantly as he could. "Why are you calling me so soon after leaving my country? It is not that I do not appreciate your call but I am rather busy, da?" Canada was quiet for several seconds and Russia feared he might have hung up; but then the younger nation spoke.
"Well," Canada said slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. "A-America didn't come to our hockey game like he'd promised, and then Kuma told me America never left the hotel before I did, so I was wondering if you might have seen him somewhere in your land?"
"Net, I have not seen him," Russia said. "And I have not kidnapped him," he added quickly in an afterthought.
"I-I never said you did." Canada sounded surprised at Russia's slightly accusatory tone. "But, well, I'm actually on my way over to your house to look for America."
It took several seconds for the words to sink in. Canada was returning to Russia. To look for his older brother. Russia licked his lips nervously before the thought that perhaps this wasn't such a bad thing popped into his mind. Canada could help him in his search for America.
"Russia, are you still there?" Canada's warbling voice dragged Russia back to the present.
"Da," Russia said with a shake of his head. "Da, I will help you search for Little America. There will be someone to pick you up when you land at the airport."
"Merci beaucoup, (Thanks a lot,) Russia," Canada said in a relieved voice. He almost sounded close to tears.
"Ne za chto, (It's my pleasure,)" Russia said, trying to sound cheerful. "Proshchayte. (Goodbye.)"
"Adieu," Canada said, and hung up the phone.
Russia closed the cellphone with a quick snap and turned back to the doorway. Having heard Russia's parting words, Agent Orlov had inched her way back into the room.
"I want you to pick up Little Canada when his plane lands," Russia told the human. "Call me if there is a problem." He handed Agent Orlov the cellphone.
"Da, ser," Agent Orlov said, graciously accepting the phone before quickly leaving the room. Her first point of action would be to locate which airport Canada would be landing at.
Russia turned back to the television screens in higher spirits than he had been in. Things were looking up for him.
.o.)O(.o.
Canada was trapped in the airport. It wasn't that he disliked Copenhagen, or airports for that matter. He just hated it when his connecting flight to Russia was canceled at the last minute due to raging blizzards near Moscow. And to make matters worse, some visiting rock band had caused all the nearby hotels to be booked for the night. Canada had nowhere to go and no desire to remain the airport overnight. This only left one option for the North American nation.
"Hallo?" Denmark's voice rang clear through the cellphone, not crackling as Russia's had done. This confirmed Canada's suspicions about the blizzard causing the bad reception.
"Bonjour, Denmark," Canada said. "It's Canada."
"Oh, hej, Canada," Denmark said happily. "What can I do fer ya?"
"Well, I'm kind of stuck at an airport in Copenhagen because of the blizzard in Russia," Canada explained, licking his lips nervously. He hadn't exactly been on good terms with Denmark since the dispute over Hans Island. "And I have nowhere to go since some rock group has come to sing. I was wondering if, maybe, I could stay at your place until the blizzard stopped."
On the other end of the phone, Denmark turned to his brothers with a victorious grin. Sweden drummed his fingers almost anxiously while Norway looked nothing more than bored already with the situation.
"Ja, of course ya can come over," Denmark said jovially. Norway quirked an eyebrow in his only portrayal of excitement. "Why would I leave family out in the cold? I'll come pick ya up, just stay put." Denmark hung up the phone before Canada could say thank you and turned to Sweden and Norway. "This is too easy!"
Canada stared at his cellphone, wondering if he had heard correctly. He had never so much as considered Denmark a distant cousin. His gaze turned to the snow that had started falling outside and his thoughts trailed to the old ruins of L'Anse aux Meadows.
.o.)O(.o.
Snow flurries burst into the house in dancing spirals when the door to the house was opened and slammed shut. Denmark stamped his feet, rubbing his hands together. Canada, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine with the chilly weather. In fact, he looked more at home than anything else.
"Aren't ya cold, Canada?" Denmark asked as he shrugged out of his winter coat and threw it carelessly into the closet.
"I'm fine," Canada said with a smile. "I'm used to colder weather." He allowed Denmark to help him remove his winter jacket. The taller nation hung it in the closet between Sweden and Norway's coats.
"What were ya doing in the Copenhagen airport, anyway?" Denmark asked curiously. "Didn't ya say something about Russia?"
"Oui," Canada said. He pushed his suitcase against a wall, hoping the snow would melt off before he had to move it again. "I'm going to visit Russia."
"Why are ya going ta Russia's house? Isn't he dangerous?"
"Russia's not that bad," Canada said with a frown. "But, well, promise not to tell anyone?" he asked nervously.
"Ja, I won't tell anyone," Denmark assured the younger nation, leaning forward with interest.
"It's just . . ." Canada stared at the ceiling as he searched for the best way to tell Denmark. "America's gone missing," he said bluntly. "You can't tell anyone," he added quickly. "They would try to take advantage of his absence."
"America's gone missing, huh?" Denmark repeated, his eyes shining mischievously. "That's not good. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone who doesn't need ta know. I don't get it, though, why are ya going ta Russia's house?"
"Kuma told me America never left the hotel," Canada told Denmark. The taller nation straightened up from leaning over Canada and cocked his head.
"Well that's not good," he said. "So yer going ta Russia's house ta try and find America there?"
"Oui, I left Kuma at home, though," Canada said. "He didn't want to go back to Russia's so soon after leaving."
"I get why," Denmark said. "It's the worst country possible."
"Not really," Canada said with a shake of his head. Snowflakes tumbled out of his blond hair and landed on his nose. "I get along with Russia just fine."
"What are you doing," Norway said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Keeping our guest in the entrance like that?" He had his arms crossed and was scowling at a sheepish looking Denmark.
"Bonjour, Norway," Canada said, waving shyly. The only time he ever spoke to the other nation was during their meetings about the Arctic Circle.
"Hallo, Canada," Norway said. "I apologize for Den's rudeness." His eyes flashed to Denmark.
"Sorry about that, Canada," Denmark chuckled, ruffling his hair sheepishly.
"It's alright," Canada assured the Nordic nation. "I'm used to it." He followed Norway into the warm kitchen. "Thank you for letting me stay at your house."
"It's not a problem," Denmark said. "Norway wanted ta leave ya outside in the cold for the night." Canada's eyes widened in shock at the words and Norway glared daggers at Denmark.
"Shut up, bror," Norway snapped before turning to Canada. "I did not want to leave you out in the cold, Canada," he assured the younger nation.
"O-Okay," Canada chuckled weakly, not sure what to make out of the two nations.
"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Norway asked, offering a steaming mug to Canada.
"I'm fine," Canada said. "Thank you anyway."
"Hm, I really think you should have some," Norway said. "Den and Sve love hot chocolate. Personally, I only like it with a good book."
"I guess some hot chocolate would be nice," Canada said, accepting the mug of hot cocoa from Norway but he didn't take a sip. "How are you doing, Norway?"
"I'm fine," Norway said, busying himself with putting the hot cocoa ingredients away. "But my friends don't seem to be doing so well. Some of them have fallen sick. Of course, my troll is fine."
"Trust Norge ta carry on about nonexistent creatures," Denmark said with a roll of his eyes. Canada laughed weakly and set his mug of hot cocoa on the table.
"It's not that bad," he said. "America's scared of ghosts. But I think that's because England used to tell him ghost stories when America was his colony."'
"England told him ghost stories?" Denmark repeated, frowning in displeasure. "What kind of father does that? Just another reason why we should have kept ya."
Canada frowned at the words. "Kept. Us," he repeated. "What are you talking about?"
Denmark and Norway exchanged mysterious looks before Norway took a steadying breath.
"You and your brother were born earlier than people think," Norway explained gently. "From our first settlement in Canada. You are originally Scandinavian."
"Are you talking about L'Anse aux Meadows?" Canada asked Norway with a frown.
"Then ya do know about us," Denmark practically crowed. "That just makes it easier ta get ya back."
"What are you talking about?" Canada demanded. "You're not making any sense. What does me knowing about you have to do with anything?" He was slowly backing away from Denmark and Norway.
"We're talking about you," Denmark said as he stepped forward, Norway close behind. "We just want ta spend some quality time with our sons." Sweden appeared behind Canada, boxing the shorter nation in.
"Sons?" Canada repeated, his eyes flicking between the three Nordic nations. "You've never considered me as a son before." Unease was settling in his stomach and a headache was growing in the front of his skull.
"Why do ya think I protected America?" Denmark asked, crossing his arms. "It's because ya two are my sons. I would have done the same thing if it had been ya."
The pieces clicked together in Canada's mind and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You kidnapped America, didn't you?" he demanded. The pounding in his head was steadily growing to the point Canada couldn't ignore it.
"So what if we did?" Denmark smirked at the North American nation. "He's our kid."
"No," Canada growled, angry tremors running down his spine and to his hands. "He's. Not!" He leapt at Denmark, his hands outstretched for the Nordic nation's throat. "What did you do to my brother?" Denmark knocked his hands aside and shoved the shorter nation back into the triangle of nations.
"What we needed ta," Denmark snapped. Canada snarled and lunged forward, swinging a fist at Denmark, but the other nation ducked and slammed a fist into Canada's cheek. The blow caused Canada to stumble backward. Canada's shoulders heaved with breaths and the shorter nation slowly looked up, revealing wild eyes Denmark had never seen on the nation before.
"You think that's going to stop me?" Canada asked. His voice sounded hollow and distant, like he wasn't all there.
Norway and Sweden tensed, glancing at Denmark who could only stare at Canada. None of them had seen this sort of behavior for centuries.
"America and I are a lot more dangerous than you think," Canada continued in the same hollow voice. "I may not be as strong as America, but I'm still stronger than you." He lunged forward with surprising speed, shocking Denmark out of his daze.
Sweden was the first to react. He seized Canada's shoulders from behind and dragged the shorter nation to the floor, pinning him there. Denmark leapt forward to sit on Canada's thighs and immobilize him. He grabbed Canada's flailing arms, pinning his wrists down on the floor in a painful grip.
"Ya might be strong," Denmark said. "But we're Vikings." He flashed a feral grin that could have cowed an angry bear.
"Get off me!" Canada struggled with surprising strength under Denmark and Sweden. The two nations had to increase pressure just to keep him on the floor. Norway hurried out of the room and returned moments later with a syringe in hand.
"We should have guessed he would be as strong as America," Norway said, kneeling beside Canada who only thrashed harder at the sight of the syringe. "Calm down, Canada." Norway placed a hand on Canada's neck and gently injected the struggling nation with the sedative. "This is just something to help you sleep."
Denmark shouted and Sweden grunted when Canada gave a surprising lurch. The younger nation struggled harder and harder until suddenly he fell limp on the floor, the sedative taking effect. His head rolled to the side and his eyes slipped closed.
"Sweet dreams, my little koloni," Norway whispered, smoothing Canada's hair out of his face. He carefully removed the shorter nation's glasses and slipped them into his pocket.
"Berserk blood," Denmark said breathlessly as he slowly stood. Sweden rocked back on his heels. "Should have known."
"Hm?" Norway asked distractedly.
"Berserker blood," Denmark repeated. "Ya remember when I used ta take those drugs before a fight? I think that's what happened ta him. He and America must both lose control sometimes."
Norway pursed his lips before speaking. "That must have been what happened between America and Cuba at the world meeting. I noticed America seemed rather agitated."
"Probably," Denmark said with a shrug."
"Well, we will just have to give them an extra dose of sedatives," Norway said. "Let's get him to his bedroom."
Sweden scooped the unconscious Canada into his arms and stood. The nation was lighter than he'd thought he'd be. He slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom Canada would be sharing with his brother.
.o.)O(.o.
There was a mighty groan as the brakes were applied and the city bus steadily came to a complete stop. A hiss escaped the vehicle and the doors were opened to allow three passengers off at the bus stop: two women and one young man with a puffin perched on his shoulder.
"Why did Dan want us all at his house?" Iceland muttered to himself as he began to make his way down the city street. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder with souvenirs from Hong Kong who had insisted they toured his house.
"Maybe the drunk guy just wanted to hang out with all of ya," Mr. Puffin said from his perch on Iceland's shoulder. Despite its warm feather, the bird was hunkered down to keep out the cold.
"Shut up," Iceland snapped. He was too tired and cold to deal with an annoying bird at the time being.
"I'm just helping," Mr. Puffin huffed at Iceland. "See if I ever do that again."
"Not like you would," Iceland muttered. "And you call that helping? 'Maybe Dan just wants us around?' You're useless! Why do I even bother keeping you around?"
"Keep talking, tough guy," Mr. Puffin said, ruffling his feathers agitatedly. "And see what happens." Iceland ignored him and continued their long trek through the snow. He couldn't understand why Denmark had chosen to buy so far from a real town or why the bus couldn't just drop him off there.
Arriving at the house, Iceland stopped in his tracks. There were tire tracks leading away from and back to Denmark's house and the car was clearly still cooling down.
"Huh, I wonder where the drunk guy went," Mr. Puffin said before shivering in the cold.
"Who cares?" Iceland asked with a roll of his guys. "Let's just get inside where it's warm." He hurried up the driveway and to the front door.
.o.)O(.o.
Canada was aware of a pounding in his head as he woke groggily from his drugged sleep. His eyelids felt like bricks when they fluttered open. He found himself lying in a comfortable bed in an unfamiliar room. Beside him, in another bed, America was sound asleep.
"America?" Canada croaked, his throat dry from sleeping. His older brother's eyes snapped open almost immediately, disproving Canada's theory about him being asleep.
"Canada, you're awake," America said happily. "They brought you in hours ago."
"How long has it been?" Canada asked tiredly. He wanted to rub the sleep from his eyes but found he could not move his arms.
"Three or four hours," America admitted. "Did you really go berserk on them?"
"Yeah," Canada said shamefully. He hadn't lost his temper in months and had been hoping to avoid it at all costs.
"Awesome!" America cackled gleefully.
"You sound like Prussia," Canada commented, and the two brothers broke out into laughter. The air feeling lighter than it had when he'd woken up, Canada relaxed.
"Do you know what's going on?" Canada asked, and America immediately stopped chuckling to himself. The older nation licked his lips in a nervous matter.
"They think we're they're kids," America said, a hint of hysteria in voice. "I think I heard them talking about taking over the world when they were walking past. They're going to start World War Three and the world's going to end and it's going to be worse than the time those aliens tried to invade us!" He said this all very quickly and was gasping by the time he was done, leaving Canada a chance to speak.
"Calm down, brother," Canada said in Cherokee. America visibly relaxed at the familiar language. "They are not going to start World War Three."
"Yes, they are," America whimpered, and Canada sighed to himself.
"No, they won't," he assured America. "Even Denmark isn't that stupid."
"Are you sure?" America asked with a certain glitter in his eye, and the brothers broke down into giggles once more. It was only once they'd stopped Canada decided to distract his older brother.
"America, do you know someone named 'South'?" Canada asked, continuing to speak in Cherokee. It felt so much more comfortable than speaking French, even English.
America licked his lips nervously before answering. "Details not important."
"You do," Canada said excitedly, accidently slipping back into English. "Who is she?" he asked curiously, and America groaned in defeat.
"She's the Confederate States of America," America said. "My baby sister."
"The Confederate States of America?" Canada repeated in shock. "But how is she still alive? She lost your Civil War."
"Southern Pride still lives," America said with a shrug. "Why is Prussia still alive if he was dissolved," he pointed out. Canada didn't answer as he rolled the idea around in his head.
"Is she . . . bipolar?" Canada asked, unable to find a better word to describe the strange girl he'd met.
"Yeah, she is," America sighed. "It was an after-effect of the war." He seemed slightly reluctant to talk about his baby sister.
"What about the bear?" Canada asked, and for a brief moment he wondered what Kumajirou was up to. He hoped someone found the polar bear before he starved to death.
"So you met Smokey, huh?" America chuckled. "He's there to take care of her when I'm not around. South forgets about him all the time."
"Why doesn't she hate you?" Canada asked his older brother. "She's the Confederate States of America."
"It's a long story," America said, as though he wanted to avoid saying anything more to Canada.
"It's not like we're going anywhere," Canada pointed out, and America sighed in defeat.
.o.)O(.o.
It had been the first battle of the Civil War and the first Confederate victory. But there had been a heavy cost with nearly two thousand dead on the Confederate's side and nearly one thousand more than that on the Union's side. The victory, though, did not stop the girl's tears from falling.
She was young, appearing to be maybe three or four at youngest. Her yellow summer dress was stained red from her injuries and her blonde hair was matted. Behind the dirt and blood, though, the girl still had an adorable touch to her heart-shaped face.
The sound of crunching boots echoed across the battlefield and the little girl gasped, freezing. She wondered, hoped even, for a brief moment if the Confederate soldiers had come back for her. That they had realized their mistake.
But it wasn't the Confederate soldiers. They were from the Union's side: two men, one younger than the other. The younger man was blond with what were probably laughing blue eyes had they not been filled with pity.
"Hello," the young man said, kneeling down beside the boy. "I'm the United States of America." He offered a hand out to the girl but she shrank back, terror twisting her in stomach. Whirling around, she tried to scramble away on crippled legs but the young man caught her in firm arms and dragged her back into his lap.
"Hey, hey," America said soothingly. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?"
"The Confederate States of America," the young girl whimpered. She could feel America's strong heart beating through his chest. It was a soothing sound, as though it was a solid rock holding her down.
"The Confederate States of America," America repeated softly. He shifted so he could sit down on the stained ground, ignoring the man standing behind him. "Didn't you go to General Beauregard?"
"I tried," Confederacy sniffed. "He didn't even look at me." America muttered something Confederacy couldn't understand and a realization dawned on her. "Why are you helpin' me?" she asked America. "We're enemies; we're supposed to hate each other."
America smiled softly down at her before answering. "Details aren't that important," he said before standing with her in her arms. He turned to the older man behind him. "Can I keep her, Irvin?" he asked excitedly.
General McDowell looked between the twins with a calculating gaze that made Confederacy shrink back. Finally, he sighed and shrugged.
"She's your problem," he said. "But the Rebels come looking for her, she's going straight back. I don't want any more trouble than we already have."
"Thanks, Irvin," America said with a big grin. The human General shook his head in disbelief and turned away, leading the siblings off the desolate battlefield. America followed slowly, limping with every other step.
"Big Brother?" Confederacy asked in barely a whisper. "North?"
"Yes, South?" America turned his warm gaze down onto his baby sister.
"Are you hurt?" Confederacy asked, worry in her eyes.
"Yeah," America said before wincing as he stumbled on a stone. "But I'll be alright. I need to take care of your injuries. That's what big brothers do: they take care of their baby sisters and protect them."
"You're goin' to take care of me?" Confederacy couldn't believe her ears. America could have easily tossed her aside and left her to die, but instead he was going to take care of her.
"Well, yeah, for the rest of your life." America graced the Confederate States of America with a kiss on the forehead. "I will never leave you." Confederacy laid her head on America's strong shoulder, listening to his solid heartbeat.
"I love you, Big Brother."
"I love you too, Sis."
.o.)O(.o.
Silence hung in the air between Canada and America as the latter finished his story. America licked his lips nervously, waiting to hear what Canada had to say.
"You took her in?" Canada asked in disbelief, and America nodded.
"Sure," America said, as though it was nothing. "She was injured and defenseless. I couldn't just leave her alone." It sounded like he was talking about a stray puppy he'd found.
"What happened later?" Canada pressed. "Did she stay with you during the whole War?"
"No," America said sadly. "A few months in, South started to realize if the Rebels lost then she would die. So she returned to the Confederate States of America. We faced off against each other in every battle of the Civil War. It got so bad soldiers would have to pull us apart when the battle was over. On the first day of Gettysburg, she stabbed both my legs with her bayonet. The doctors were threatening to amputate my legs, so on the third day I marched across the field and kicked South in the shins just to prove I could."
Canada couldn't stop himself from laughing at the mental image of his brother kicking someone in the midst of a dangerous battle.
"What happened after the War?" he asked once he'd got his breath back. America shifted slightly on the bed, hindered by the drugs pumping through his system.
"Well . . ."
.o.)O(.o.
The Confederates had won the battle but lost the War. The Battle of Palmito Ranch had decided the fate of the Confederate States of America on the banks of the Rio Grande. The Union had only lost four soldiers in the battle, the Confederacy losing none. Except for one.
It was this one soldier America stopped at, a look of disgust on his face. The soldier was a woman, her hair having been chopped short to stay out of the way. Blood caked one side of her face from the bullet wound to the head. The Confederate States of America looked very different from how America had first found her.
"It's over, Rebel," America said, the disgust evident in his voice. He hadn't called his sister 'South' since she had left him for the Confederate soldiers. "I win."
The Confederate States of America gave a gurgling laugh and America only looked more disgusted.
"You know what's funny, Yankee?" she asked in a wheezing voice.
"What?" America snapped, looking as though he wanted to leave his sister on the battlefield.
"We always seem to meet when I win the battle," Confederacy said as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "Just proves I'm better than you."
America blinked and suddenly he wasn't looking at the dying soldier on the field. Instead, he saw the young girl he'd found injured on the field. His sister had never grown out of her baby-blue eyes or the heart-shaped face. Deep down, she was still the same old South.
Falling to his knees, America pulled his younger sister into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. Confederacy closed her eyes, listening to the sturdy heartbeat, her solid rock in the wild sea of the War.
"I'll never leave," Confederacy mumbled, almost to herself. "I'll be here forever."
"Sure you will, South," America said, holding his sister close. "And I'll be by your side. What are big brothers if not to help their baby sisters?"
"They're for teasin',"South answered. "And talkin' into doin' what you want."
"And baby sisters are there to annoy their older brothers until they lock them in the closet," America retorted but held South closer nonetheless.
"You'll never get away from me, Big Brother."
America buried his face in South's shoulder. "And I'll never try to," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, North. Hey, when am I goin' to die?" South asked. "I just want to know. Even though I won the battle, I still lost the War. Maybe I can enjoy my last few days."
"You're never going to die," America said firmly, as though to argue differently would be impossible. "Because those Rebels out there, and their children, and their children's children are still going to wish they had won the Civil War. The South's Pride will live on, and so will you."
"Why are you helpin' me?" South asked, looking to America with a rather serious face. She received a warm smile in response and only three words.
"Details not important."
"Hm." South relaxed against her older brother and smiled peacefully.
"I wish I was in the land of cotton,
Old times they are forgotten;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land where I was born,
Early on one frosty mornin',
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus marry 'Will-de-weaber',
Willium was a gay deceaber;"
The song faltered as South's consciousness slipped away. America couldn't help but smile down at his sister. Scooping her into his arms, he made his way off the battlefield. His strong voice echoed across the field as he sang.
"But when he put his arm around'er,
He smiled fierce as a forty-pound'er,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."
South sighed contentedly in her brother's strong arms, knowing nothing could touch her. Not as long as America lived.
.o.)O(.o.
Canada had never heard such a story in all his life before. Most siblings in Europe didn't get along well due to their violent history. Not even Romano was nice to Italy, and they were the same country.
"That's . . . amazing," Canada said. No other word could have described the story so well. It was truly amazing how quickly America was to forgive and forget.
"Yeah," America chuckled. "And you wouldn't believe the adventures we had afterward. South caused so much trouble."
.o.)O(.o.
Thinking back now, America supposed this might not have been the ideal vacation spot: the Gettysburg field. The ghosts were still agitated about losing the War and the presence of their death on their field did not help one bit.
America cowered behind a fallen log, his hands twisted in his hair. He hated ghosts more than anything else in the world. They haunted his dreams and reminded him of how much better he could have done.
"They're not there," America muttered uselessly to himself. "They're not there. They're not-." A shot bounced off the log he was hiding behind and he whimpered, ducking even closer to the ground. A female voice rang clearly across the field with laughter and song.
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lighting of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on."
"Hey, North, when are you goin' to get your ass out here?" South called over her shoulder as she let loose yet another shot. "I can't do this all on my own, you know!"
"When all the ghosts are gone," America shouted back. Unlike her brother, South had no qualms about ghosts.
South stopped dancing on the battlefield and whirled around to face the log hiding her brother. She planted her hands on her hips, looking fiercer than a lion.
"Don't you dare start talkin' to me like that, boy," South said in her drawling accent. "Or I will whup you into the next week."
America considered the circumstances: face creepy ghosts who kind of sort of wanted to kill him or his sister who most certainly would?
"Alright," America said, cocking his shotgun. "Let's go yonder and whup some Gettysburg butt."
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" South whirled around and planted a foot in a ghost's face. Her brother jumped to her side. "Back off, boys, South has come to play!"
.o.)O(.o.
America sighed fondly at the memory. That had not been one of his most favorite days: fighting Gettysburg ghosts all night long.
"South has her own brand of crazy," he said, more to himself than Canada.
"Eh?" Canada asked, confused as to what his brother was talking about. "What do you mean?"
"She's . . . unique."
.o.)O(.o.
"You can't make me!" South struggled wildly as America tried to pull her out the front door. "I won't leave this house until I see that sun risin' in the east!"
"Come on, South," America snapped. "It was just a movie."
"I don't care," South shrieked. "I'd rather starve than die tonight. I don't care how innocent you seem, I ain't leavin'!"
Fed up with his sister, America let South fall to the floor. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll go to the store myself and you can stay in this old, creaky house. Alone!"
South froze at the words. "Eh?" she finally asked in surprise. "What? Why, you bowed up, big bread basketed, no 'count, ornery, out of kilter, piddlin' varmint! You darn tootin' ain't goin' to leave me here! Are you fixin' to get me killed?"
"Wow," America said, trying to stifle his laughter. "That was a lot of insults. What are they teaching you in your etiquette classes?"
"Not to go leavin' your sisters to be massacred by a man with a chainsaw in the middle of the night in Texas!" That caused America to crack up laughing.
"Alright, alright," he wheezed. "Let's go already. I'm starving and we've got nothing to eat." South stood but refused to budge from her spot. "What now?" America groaned.
"Give me your jacket." South held out a hand for her older brother's precious bomber jacket. She wiggled her fingers when America didn't automatically pass over the clothing article.
"Why?" America asked as he resolutely shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over to his sister. South pulled the jacket on quickly and zipped it all the way to her throat.
"He won't know I'm a girl," South said confidently, as though this made perfect sense. "He'll think I'm a girl."
"If you say so," America said, yet again trying to smother his laughter. "Let's go." He took his sister's hand, South clutching to his own like a lifeline as he looked around herself suspiciously.
.o.)O(.o.
"And where did she get the black bear?" Canada asked curiously, and America cracked up laughing.
"That's a good story!" America wheezed as he tried to catch his breath.
.o.)O(.o.
"North! North! North!" South's shouts echoed through the yard and her older brother had barely turned around when something collided hard with him. He grunted, stumbling back in surprise.
"What?" America asked, massaging his stomach with a hurt expression on his face.
"Look what followed me home," South said excitedly as she shoved a small black bear into America's face. America blinked in surprise at the bear who seemed to be considering him hotly.
"What the hell is with this useless piece of junk," the bear suddenly asked, shocking America into silence.
"Can I keep him?" South asked excitedly. America gaped at the bear, not noticing the bald eagle that landed on his shoulder. The bird was glaring at the black bear, as though wondering if it was edible.
"South," America said thickly. "The thing is . . . I don't even know what to say."
"What's with the big chicken?" the bear asked with a cock of his head. The eagle screeched indignantly, spreading its wings.
"Easy, Freedom," America soothed the bird. He turned back to his sister. "South, I don't know if I want that around the house."
"But I love him!" South wailed, hugging the bear tightly and in the process strangling it. Freedom cooed softly, chuckling almost.
"I don't know, South . . ." America rubbed the back of his head, wondering how to get his sister away from the bear.
"BUT I LOVE HIM!" South screeched. The black bear struggled wildly in her arms as it tried to breathe.
"SOUTH!" America shouted in surprise. "Put him down; you're strangling him." Reluctantly, South released the bear. He landed on the ground with a thump, heaving for air.
"I'm goin' to call him Smokey," South said excitedly. "After that bear cub you rescued from the forest fire!"
"Fine," America groaned in defeat, and Freedom screeched in annoyance. "But you have to take care of him."
"I will, North, don't worry." South suddenly froze, slowly looking down at the bear. "Who are you?" she asked, and America groaned, rubbing his face.
"You have got to be kidding."
.o.)O(.o.
"She forgot about the bear right away?" Canada asked in disbelief, not seeming to realize he often forgot about his own polar bear many times.
"Yep," America chuckled to himself. "She has poor memory for Smokey. That, and her bipolar attitude, come from the bullet wound to the head she got during the Civil War."
"That's terrible!" Canada said in shock. "But . . . who else knows about her?" he asked. America cocked his head, counting off the nations who could possibly have known.
"Belarus and Lithuania," he finally said. "They met her when they lived at my house. You met her . . . two days ago?" America estimated.
"Somewhere around there," Canada agreed.
"And then Germany and Prussia."
"Germany and Prussia know about South? But they've never talked about her before."
"That's because they don't really remember her. They just thought she was another soldier."
.o.)O(.o.
The Belleau Wood would have been beautiful, if it had not been for the fact America and South were trying not to die. Germany and Prussia had cut the twins off from their platoon and had chased them into the heart of the forest.
South fired another shot at Germany from behind their fallen log. The Germanic nation dove for cover behind a tree, successfully dodging the bullet, and landed beside his older brother.
"Sit still, you no 'count yaller dog!" South shouted at Germany furiously.
"Go back, Yankee!" Germany called back. "You and America are the only men in this area!"
"He called you a guy," America chuckled, and South cackled beside him.
"He called me a gentleman," she laughed. "I ain't no gentleman!" Another shot was fired as Prussia stupidly stuck his head around the tree.
"Verdammt!" Prussia shouted as he jerked his head back behind the tree.
America cocked his own gun and fired at the German brothers, hoping to scare one of them out. He was running low on ammo.
"Hey, North!" South shouted, firing another shot.
"Yeah, South?" America asked as he took aim at Prussia's head and fired. The Germanic nation swore once more and shouted angrily in German at America.
"Remember that one game at the county fair," South said. "The one where you try and shoot the groundhog?"
"Yeah, what about it?" America asked, cocking his gun. He kept his eyes trained on the Germans' tree.
"Well, brother," South said, firing at Germany's head. "It seems like we're playin' it right now."
"Yeah, I guess we are," America laughed. He pulled the trigger of his gun but nothing happened. "Shit! South give me some ammo. I'm out." South dug in her pockets and shrugged at her brother.
"My pockets are empty," she said. "All I got is what's in my gun."
America swore again. "Keep firing," he ordered. "I'll think of something to do." South turned to fire at the tree again but froze.
"Where did our groundhogs go?" she asked. "They sure are wimpy."
America peeked over his log. "Hey, East and West, are you still there?" he called across the distance.
"It's Prussia, America," Prussia shouted right back, wondering how much longer he could take of his former trainee.
"Yep," America told his sister." They're still there. Just hiding."
"Come on, North," South said. "I want to have some fun. Get out here, you good for nothin', squabblin' can't fir a gun Germans!"
"South, that won't work. Call Prussia 'East' and 'un-awesome'."
"Hey, un-awesome East, where are you?" South called, and Prussia popped up from his hiding spot. The Albino nation shrugged his brother off when Germany tried to drag him back down.
"Hey," Prussia shouted angrily. "I'm as awesome as they come. And it's Prussia."
"See, I told you," America said.
"Empty headed pig!" South cackled and fired at Prussia's head.
"Gah!" Prussia ducked behind the tree just in the nick of time from being a bull's-eye. There was a moment of silence before a slap resounded from behind the tree.
"Dummkopf!" Germany had hit his brother.
South fell over laughing. "That was good!" she said, wiping tears away. "Come out so I can do it again!"
"Nein!" Prussia shouted back furiously. "Fool me once shame on you."
"Bruder!" Germany yelled, and there was another sound of someone being slapped.
"Fool you twice shame on you," South retorted. "But the shame really is on you. You're so un-awesome you fell for that trick. Idiot."
Prussia stood up once more. "I am not!"
"Dummkopf!" Germany shouted, tackling his older brother down just as South pulled the trigger. But nothing happened.
When South tried pulling the trigger again, nothing happened. She was out of ammo. Jumping to her feet, she hurled the gun as hard as she could at Prussia's head when he stood. There was a resounding thunk and a German curse.
"I got him!" South rejoiced. "I got him! Did you see that, North?"
"Yeah, nice throw," America congratulated his sister. "But now we're all out of ammos and guns."
"Wait, what?" South asked in confusion. "Where'd my gun go?"
America gaped at his sister in disbelief. "Seriously?" he demanded. "You have to do this now?"
"Do what?" South demanded. "Where's my stupid gun?"
"You threw it and hit Prussia," America explained to his sister.
"What? Why would I do something like that?" Without waiting for an answer, South shouted over the log. "Hey, Prussia!"
"Was?" Prussia demanded, peeking out from the safety of his tree.
"Throw me back my gun," South demanded.
"Nein!"
"South," America said. "He isn't that stupid." But South ignored him.
"Oh, come on, you wimp," South called over the log. "I need it. What do you think I'm goin' to do with it?"
"I think you'll throw it," Prussia answered in a shout.
"Why would I do that?" South demanded. "I'm supposed to fire it."
"South," America groaned. "We're out of ammo."
"We don't have ammo?" South repeated in slight confusion. "Well that explains why I threw my gun."
"Yes, it does," America agreed. "We need to get out of here without those two catching us." He could hear Germany and Prussia conversing in rather loud whispers. The German was too quick for him to follow, though.
"Fine, how are we goin' to get out?" South demanded.
America peeked over the log. He could see the German brothers anywhere. Chewing his lip, he thought carefully.
"Hand-to-hand combat," he finally said. "It's the only way."
"Hand-to-hand combat?" South repeated, looking at her brother like he was an idiot. "I can dance, but I can't fight like that."
"Yes, you can," America told her. "Just . . . do what feels right."
"Alright," South said, though she didn't sound as though she liked the idea of hand-to-hand combat.
"Got you!
America shouted in surprise as a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the collar and dragged him painfully over the log. His sister was pulled after him. Prussia and Germany dropped the American twins on the ground, standing over them with looks of triumph.
South suddenly screamed, surprising the German brothers, until her lungs were void of any air.
"That felt about right," she said once she'd caught her breath once more.
"South!" America shouted in exasperation as he leapt at Prussia, knocking the albino nation over. The two began to roll around on the ground in a wild wrestling match.
"West!" Prussia yelled, and Germany sighed in aggravation. He ignored his brother in favor of reaching for South who had tried to run.
"Stay away!" South shrieked as she was seized around the waist and dragged back.
"Come here!" Germany growled, holding South close to him.
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" South thrashed violently in Germany's arms as America and Prussia continued their wrestling to the left.
"Hey, America," Prussia cackled. "What's with your girly soldier?" he asked as Germany struggled to hold South still.
"Aiyee!" South shrieked, flailing in Germany's grip. "Why do you think I sound like a girl?" she demanded, and Germany suddenly blushed, dropping South unceremoniously to the ground. Prussia and America stopped their wrestling almost at once.
"Wow, America," Prussia cackled. "You're fighting with a girl?"
"Why did you drop me?" South scowled up at Germany who flushed brightly. "Help me up!" The Germanic nation hesitantly took South's hand and helped her to her feet.
"Y-You're a . . . girl?" Germany asked in disbelief as South dusted herself off. The female ex-nation glared at him.
"You do not do that to a lady," she snapped at Germany.
"Was?" Germany asked in shock. South took an advancing stepped forward and he stumbled back.
"When you are with a lady," South lectured. "You escort her where she wants to go."
"South?" America asked cautiously, wondering where his sister could possibly go with this.
"You open doors for her," South continued both her lecture and her advancing. "You pull out her chair, give her a kiss on the hand when you meet her and when you say goodbye. You always pay attention to her and if she wants to dance, then you dance with her."
"W-Was?" Germany stuttered. "I don't understand."
"Hey, America," Prussia said, nudging the nation beside him. "What's up with your girly soldier?" he asked.
"Honestly, I have no idea," America admitted. "It's just how she is."
"You never, ever drop a lady," South said. Germany was stopped in escape by a tree at his back. South poked him hard in the chest. "Ever."
"Sorry," Germany practically squeaked, not sure what else to say.
"Just for that . . ." South seized Germany's arm in a surprisingly strong grip and sank her teeth into his wrist.
"Gott verdammt!" Germany swore as he grabbed South's hair and yanked as hard as he could. Put it was in vain, South's grip was too strong.
America grinned at South's idea and jumped on Prussia, sinking his own teeth into Prussia' shoulder. The Germanic nation howled in both pain and surprise and fell back down the hill.
"Sie sind Teufel Hunde! (They're devil dogs!)" Prussia screamed as America continued to bite him. "West!"
South relinquished her grip on Germany's right wrist and sank her teeth into his left arm.
"Gah!" Germany struck South hard on the back. "What are you?" he demanded.
"Um, I think I'm a Teufel hunde," South said, drawing back. "Like the idiot said."
"Hey!" Prussia shouted furiously from the base of the hill. He yelped once more. "Quit biting me!"
.o.)O(.o.
Canada couldn't stop the laughter bubbling from leaving his lips. He could hear America chuckling beside him.
"That is an interesting encounter," Canada said, trying to get his breath back.
"I know, right?" America agreed. "Germany and Prussia never actually found out who was biting them."
"So that's who South is." America and Canada froze. They slowly looked to Norway who was standing in the doorway. "Interesting."
"How long have you been standing there?" America croaked.
"The entire time," Norway told him. "I was curious when I heard you two talking. The Confederate States of America is alive?" he asked.
"No, she's not," America snapped, struggling to sit up. "She hasn't been alive since the Civil War."
"I heard all your stories, America," Norway said. He approached the older of the two North American brothers and opened the nightstand beside him. America was helpless as Norway injected him with more sedatives.
America fell back onto the pillows with a groan. Anything more he was going to say was caught in his throat at the sight of Iceland peeking through the door with wide eyes. America's eyes flicked back to Norway and he licked his lips nervously.
"Run," America mouthed at Iceland as discreetly as he could. "England!" Iceland nodded once and slipped past the door, quiet as a mouse.
"The stories don't mean anything," America told Norway, hoping to distract him from Iceland.
"You're lying," Norway said in an accusing tone. "I heard everything. Besides, there will be pictures that can prove whether she was real or not."
"You leave her alone," America demanded furiously. "She's just like Prussia: an ex-nation." Canada looked between Norway and America worriedly. He hadn't seen Iceland sneak past them, too busy watching his older brother.
"That doesn't matter," Norway said coolly. "She could still be a threat to us. She might have even damaged you."
"What are you talking about?" America asked with narrowed eyes.
"She is the personification of southern America, ja?" Norway asked, and America nodded slowly. "Who knows what English crap she has spewed out for you?"
"Idi k chertu! (Go to Hell!)" America suddenly yelled in Russia, surprising Norway and causing Canada to snort with laughter. "South's never done anything to me!"
"What did you say?" Norway hissed furiously.
"Bravo," Canada told America with a grin. America smirked rebelliously at Norway.
"You will not speak to your Far (Father) in that manner," Norway snapped at America. "Either of you. You two are about to be punished."
"Who said you were our Patéras?" America asked, using a Greek word. Being the melting pot of the world had its advantages sometimes.
"You will not speak those languages in this house," Norway said in a dangerous voice. "I will be going to Far Dan if you do not stop."
"Fine, voir si je m'inquiète, (see if I care,)" America said, and Canada cackled at the French.
"You two!" Norway snapped before storming from the room.
Canada looked to his brother, tears in his eyes. "He's going to kill us," he pointed out.
"Yeah, I know," America said.
"Iceland, what are you doing?" Norway's voice echoed down the hallway and America's stomach dropped in fear.
"Iceland, run!" America shouted helplessly.
.o.)Moments Ago(.o.
Iceland hurried down the hall as quickly and quietly as he could. He was still trying to understand what he had seen: America and Canada laid out on beds while Norway stood over them.
Stopping beside the first open window he found, Iceland snatched Mr. Puffin from his shoulder.
"Look," he said to his pet bird. "I don't give a damn about what you're going to say, but I need you to get help."
"Why can't you?" Mr. Puffin asked angrily, puffing up his chest indignantly.
"Because Dan saw me walk in," Iceland snapped back. "If he saw me leave, he'd get suspicious. Besides, I need to help America and Canada. So just do as I say." Before the bird could argue anymore, Iceland threw Mr. Puffin out the window. The puffin flew away, cursing Iceland out with every flap of his wings.
"Iceland?" a voice said and Iceland whirled around to see his older brother standing before him. "What are you doing?"
To stay by your side.
A/N: What did you think?
What did I say? A long chapter. Whew! At least I didn't have to work today. But it is almost twenty below out (that twenty-eight below for you non-Americans) here in Minnesota. Well, I'll see you in the next chapter.
Adieu!