Chapter 4
Turkey's fierce expression changed and he looked almost offended.
"What, boy, you weren't expecting me at all?"
But Cyprus, goggling silently at him, had nothing more to say. Greece had also done a double take, and now he staggered upright again to point indignantly at the newly-arrived Turkey.
"What the hell are you doing here!?"
Turkey merely spread his hands with a smile, indicating North, who stood beside him with a look that could only be described as triumph.
"Duty called," he said simply.
"Oh, really." Greece snorted derisively. "So tell me, how did you ever get reduced to being summoned by a little kid? Did I beat you enough that you weren't able to walk very far? Or" —and here he pasted on an expression of fake thoughtfulness— "are you just getting fatter and lazier by the day?"
Turkey bristled at the insult and he strode towards Greece, eyes spitting fire. "You just wanna go, don't you?"
Greece glared right back at him, raising himself to his full height.
"Damn right I do. Bring it on, don't be a scoundrel, fight like a man!"
The whole while Cyprus had been watching the exchange in horrified, frozen silence, but at Greece's words and Turkey's move to fight he could no longer remain still.
"No, don't do it!" he shouted, leaping between the two older nations before they could start landing punches on each other. Both Turkey and Greece stared down at him in surprise, Greece being the first to react.
"Cyprus," he said in a low voice. "This is between Turkey and I; it's our fight. I'll be fine."
"No!" Cyprus protested.
"Cyprus—"
"Why do you two always have to fight?" Cyprus said in anguish. "Does everything have to be resolved by force? Why can't we all just get along—have you ever thought of that? Is it really that hard?"
Greece interrupted then. "You've forgotten, Cyprus, about history. There's no such thing as 'getting along' anymore." Turkey gave a disdainful sound that might have indicated his agreement.
Cyprus, however, couldn't let it go. Sure, no matter how hard Greece and Turkey battled they would be all right; they were nations, after all. But he was so tired of seeing them resort to useless fighting—he just wanted them to stop. He just wanted everyone to be a peaceful family; was it really all that undesirable?
"Greece, please," he said in desperation. But Greece only shook his head.
"Cyprus, you don't understand."
For the first time Cyprus felt the first glimmers of anger rise up inside him. And then he did the unthinkable: he turned to Turkey instead.
Greece started and in a moment had Cyprus by the shoulders.
"Don't you think of working anything out with that bastard, Cyprus. If you're my brother you won't have anything to do with him, or that kid of his, you hear me?"
It was the decisive moment; Greece had said it, the words Cyprus had most feared he would say. But strangely, he felt nothing, no shock, no anger, just calm. He knew what he had to do; perhaps it would a big thing considering what it meant to Greece and the others, but he knew that if the Turk, of all people, decided to forget it and prevent the fight, then perhaps something could be done after all.
Turkey had raised an eyebrow and appeared to be waiting for Cyprus to speak. So Cyprus took a deep breath—and spoke.
"Turkey, won't you consider dropping this?"
He knew it had been a long while since he'd been on good terms with Turkey, or even speaking terms, for that matter—but it was now or never.
The Turk regarded him coolly.
"Why should I, little Cyprus?"
"Because . . ." Cyprus struggled to find the right words. "We're all related; Greece and North and I, we're all brothers; and you and North are relatives. Why can't we just stop fighting and become a family? Don't you think that would be better, for all of us? For our nations?"
But it appeared he'd said too much; at the word 'nations' Turkey's expression seemed to darken.
"You're too idealistic, Cyprus. Maybe as people we could resolve this, but as nations . . . there's no way our peoples could be reconciled. Ever."
"Well in that case, let's make use of the time we have," snarled Greece, pushing past Cyprus without a second glance and yanking on Turkey's collar. "I don't suppose you've missed my Hellas Punch very much, but I'll gladly reintroduce him to you."
Turkey gave a slow smile.
"The pleasure will be all mine."
And then they were fighting; no amount of effort could have pulled them apart then. Cyprus was left standing off to the side, completely forgotten along with his desire for peace. He stood there silently for a moment, watching them fight, feeling nothing. But all of a sudden he found he was moving, racing to the door and running out of the house.
He ran, blindly, without caring where he was going, so long as he took himself farther from the place where his family—yes, his would-be family—was locked in bitter combat. So it seemed there was nothing he could do about that—so it seemed, and so he was running away.
Cyprus knew running away did not solve the problem at all; but neither did staying and watching them hurt each other. He could only hope that perhaps, if he left, and if he truly did matter to them, they might reconsider and seek reconciliation themselves.
Ages seemed to have passed by the time Cyprus finally stopped to catch his breath beneath the shade of a tall tree in the middle of nowhere. He'd ended up in one of the many parks his government had set up, and it just so happened to be one he remembered, its trails leading to a small cottage he'd set up one day by a deserted cove on the island's southern beach.
Perhaps he could hide out there for a short while.
With a destination in mind and a new purpose in his step Cyprus began his long walk down to the seaside. But before he got very far he heard a small voice call his name, and the footsteps of someone running nearing him by the second.
"Cyprus! Cyprus!"
He turned at the voice and caught North just before the boy tripped over a low-hanging tree root. The young nation looked exhausted and beyond guilty; he sniffled into Cyprus's arm.
"I'm sorry, Cyprus, I'm sorry about what happened. It was all my fault . . ."
Cyprus was silent for a moment. Then he found himself saying, "No, it wasn't."
"But I brought Turkey here because I knew they would fight, and because I was angry with Greece. I'm sorry, Cyprus, I really am . . ."
Cyprus sighed. "Anyone in your shoes would have done the same thing for defense." He patted North's head. "I don't suppose anything would have stopped those two from fighting, anyway. I can only hope they might think better of it when they discover I'm gone."
North's eyes widened and he stared up at Cyprus. "Are you going away?"
"Yes. I have no reason to stay, at least not at the moment."
It seemed the young nation had the same thing in mind.
"Let me go with you, Cyprus."
"But you're young and your country needs you. And Turkey probably does, too . . ."
"No," said North, "I want to go with you. You're my only brother and a Cypriot too—you're all that I have."
It was true, and as Cyprus thought about it he realized he really didn't want to leave without North. With a small smile, the first time he'd truly smiled that day, he swung North up onto his shoulders.
"All right then. Since we only have each other, you're coming with me. Lead the way, North. We're going to find ourselves a better day."
