Author's Note: So originally I hadn't planned on doing anything more with this, but...Well some people have encouraged me to do so. x3 Yay for first fic!
P.S. I didn't realize anonymous reviews were turned off, but they're on now. Yay for learning how to use this site.
Two redcoat soldiers had to come collect him before he'd willingly leave the battlefield. The stuffed plush was clutched in one hand as his arms were slung around each man's neck, feet dragging in the mud.
He wearily looked up and over to the men who more or less carried him. Had they been there earlier to witness his spectacular failure? His head hung limp, eyes closing tightly as he tried to swallow down the shame that kept creeping up the back of his throat.
When he next opened his eyes they were entering the home that he was hoping to avoid, for another day at least. The one on his left opened the door without knocking. So they had been sent to gather him. Alfred should have been able to take comfort in that, but all he felt was aching despair.
The soldiers deposited him on a rug in front of the fireplace. They said something, but everything sounded like it was a long ways off. Water pooled around him, mud sliding off of his shoes and onto the previously clean rug. He had yet to let go of the stuffed rabbit.
He stared into the fire, shoulders beginning to tremble as the numbness faded and he realized how cold he was. The rain had yet to stop. He smiled bitterly, that had to mean something, some sort of symbolism.
"There is no need to act so childish." Things didn't sound so distant anymore, that voice was crystal clear to his ears. His gaze remained fixed on the crackling flames, no response whatsoever to him.
His eyes narrowed as he heard him walking closer, but he still didn't look, not even when he could feel the closeness of the island nation. A hand fell on his shoulder and his muscles tensed, body going rigid under the soft touch. "If you don't wash up and change out of those rags you'll get sick."
With shaking legs he got to his feet, turning to look at, no down at him. "You'll see these rags again. Only next time I won't be the one kneeling in-" A sharp crack cut him off. Eyes wide he felt the burning skin before his mind could understand what had just happened.
The force of the slap left his face turned to the side. He slowly looked back, but refused to touch the stinging cheek. "You are a colony. My colony. The sooner you remember that the better." Alfred's fingers curled tighter into the stuffed rabbit. "Now go get cleaned up. If you won't burn that ridiculous uniform then I will."
He nearly protested, almost stood his ground to argue and demand that Arthur recognize he was no longer a child. Instead he turned and walked away, headed towards the bathroom that no doubt had a warm bath already waiting.
Sure enough once in the washroom he was faced with a steaming bath and clean clothes laid out. His blood boiled. Still he was treated like a helpless child. He closed the door behind him and locked it for good measure. A glance into the mirror left him even more humbled and humiliated than before. They had come so far, and gotten so close, and yet...He still remained a colony.
He stepped closer to his reflection, one hand reaching out to set his palm flat against the foggy surface. The left side of his face was red, skin throbbing from the slap he'd received. Otherwise he looked pale, eyes dull and face drawn. The war had been long and bloody, but losing the fight for his independence left him more exhausted than the battles ever had.
The stuffed animal hung at his side. He smiled sadly at the mud covered item. Alfred walked over to the tub and knelt down on the floor in front of it. He shrugged off the military jacket and let it rest on the floor and then rolled his sleeves up. Reverently he submerged the rabbit in the warm, soapy water. He took the bar of soap and began scrubbing at the cloth, trying to work out the dirt and blood.
After he had gotten out the worst of the stains, he dunked the rabbit one more time. Alfred held it up, looking at the cherished plush with a small smile. There were still spots here and there, mostly blood that would never come out. He got up and set the wet plush in the basin to dry off.
Knock knock. Alfred nearly jumped when he heard the repeated sounds. "I know you've never been one for baths Alfred. Are you quite done yet?"
Panic set in for a moment, "I-I'll be out soon." He hastily slipped off the rest of his clothes and got into the now dirty water. A hiss of pain escaped from between his teeth. All the cuts and bruises ached and the soapy water only called attention to them.
Alfred rushed through cleaning off, and pulled on the clean garments before he was completely dry. As an afterthought he grabbed at the rabbit, and tucked it under one arm, his uniform held in the other.
He breathed in deeply, holding it for a moment before letting out a sigh. Reluctantly he unlocked the door and opened it. He peeked out and looked both ways. There was no Arthur in sight, so he slowly walked towards his room. With his shoulder he nudged the door open, and stopped after only one step into the room.
Alfred stared at Arthur, his hold on the uniform tightening slightly. "Get-out-of-my-room." He punctuated each word.
Anger flashed across Arthur's features as he moved forward. "This is your room so long as I deign it to be." He held out a hand, palm up. "Give me that and I'm more than happy to leave you to mope." Alfred turned his body away, as though he could shield the torn and dirty uniform.
"No." That was not the response Arthur had been expecting as was clear from the look on his face.
"I will not ask a second time." This time there was a biting edge to Arthur's demand. Alfred took a hesitant step back. He felt his eyes watering, but refused to blink. "You're going to kill them." His voice shook. "You're going to kill them and I can't even say goodbye. My friends. And all I have left of them you want to burn." Alfred folded his arms over the uniform. The wet stuffed rabbit pressed against his chest, clothes covering it.
Alfred felt lightheaded. The thought of losing the uniform, one of the last connections he had to his patriots and their ideals was too much. He gasped, taking in a deep breath that did nothing to calm him. "I didn't mean it earlier." The words tumbled out in a rush.
"I'll never wear it again, never look at it again." Alfred felt like he was back in the mud, kneeling in front of Arthur, begging for understanding.
Unlike before, Arthur took a step closer instead of away. "I don't so much as want to hear a whisper about them. Otherwise it goes in the fire."
Alfred nearly cried out in relief. His grip on the uniform relaxed and he nodded his head in agreement. He stiffened when Arthur stopped and stood next to him, fingers brushing against the back of his hand. "Don't break your promise, not this time." Arthur said no more as he left, closing the door behind him on the way out.
He set the folded pile of clothes down atop the dresser at the foot of his bed. Flopsy was placed next to them as well. With those taken care of he walked over and opened the door as quietly as possible. He crept down the hallway, stopping outside Arthur's office when he heard a voice he didn't recognize.
"It will be but a manner of time before the executions start. There are still many unaccounted for, and Franklin has been given political asylum by the French. They can't hold Adams though." Alfred held his breath, afraid to make a noise.
"As for General Washington he is being held in a secure location. We'll begin once the others are gathered."
Alfred pressed closer against the door, straining to hear anything more. "Good. Be sure to call for Adam's extradition then." Arthur sounded as though he were talking about the weather, and not a man's life. Heavy with guilt, Alfred turned and crept back to his room, and made sure to close the door as quietly as it had been opened.
It would take them time to find the delegates, and at least Benjamin was safe in France. Still, there had to be something...
Alfred walked over to the window, and stopped in front of it. Thoughts began churning inside his mind, plans and cause for hope. Perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps there was still a chance to prove himself.
Benjamin Franklin spent much of the war in France, seeking aid. For the purposes of this fic, Franklin did not fully succeed in gaining their help which was a factor in why Alfred didn't win the war. As a brilliant man well into his upper years it's unlikely the British would have sought Franklin with much enthusiasm. Adams on the other hand...Was a very outspoken patriot and his somewhat brash attitude probably wouldn't have won too many friends overseas. The British would have every right in demanding the French release him to their custody.
:D YAY.