July 4, 1946
Nearly a year later, and England still couldn't quite get used to being this close to America.
He still hesitated to take the hands offered him, the sudden spontaneous embraces, and the smiles- dear God, the smiles. Not that Arthur was given any choice in the matter.
The meeting in Tokyo had been brief, and far more emotional than Arthur could have expected- especially once Canada had arrived with that bear of his, and demanded that England behave himself, and not even to think of touching his former colony again.
Alfred had immediately told him to shut it.
"I'm blind, Mattie, not stupid, and you know you can't put me in some sort of protective bubble for the rest of my life- I'd go nuts." Alfred's smile had been bright, "You know I would, mon frère. I'm not meant to be caged, even if it means that I might get hurt."
The conversation had turned civil after that, projects, and plans for the future. The past was not mentioned. Before England had to leave, there had been an invitation.
The usual symptom of insomnia plagued England, the scattered sleep that he did manage to catch was full of shattered fragments of memory- nightmares, one might call them, leaving him nauseous (and consequently irritable). This was the day that America had chosen (not Alfred, his people) to celebrate his birth, his independence- but his memories were still full of a different time, that this particular day had started.
And then there was the invitation that he just couldn't say 'no' to.
"Igrisu-San," Kiku's voice came from his right, startling him out of the half-doze that he had fallen into while simply sitting in the warm sunlight of a window that he'd thought he'd never see again. "Arthur-san, did you sleep last night?"
"Hullo, Kiku. Not much, I'm afraid." Arthur formed a smile, attempting to banish the dark circles and pallor that he knew had to be showing. Japan was healing- his people rebuilding with Alfred's help- actually, with everyone's help. They were all supporting each other now. The next meeting of the allies had included America, to the shock of the others.
Matthew had given them looks that absolutely dared them to object to his brother's presence.
At the silence, Alfred had only laughed, and given Matthew a surprisingly accurately aimed bop on the head with the palm of his hand. "Stop trying to scare 'em, Mattie."
"I—I-" Matthew had actually stuttered, face turning bright pink.
"What good is it going to do for me to be here, if you're going to do that?" The others had merely sat in stunned silence, watching the interaction. "I have an idea, and if everyone's going to be too afraid of pointing out flaws, then I might as well have stayed at home."
England had listened to the presentation, given objections, as had others. America either found a way around them, or asked for ways for improving it.
Somewhere in the past hundred and sixty years, Alfred had learned to listen.
"Arthur-san," Kiku's voice again, "Are you all right? Perhaps you should go back to bed."
Arthur shook his head, trying to get rid of the fog that the lack of sleep had left him with, "I promised that I would be here, and so I shall."
"I see," Japan said simply, sitting at England's invitation. "May I ask, what do you think of this land thus far?"
"It's not entirely what I expected." And it hadn't been. The land itself was still beautiful, wild- much like the people. However, they were poorer than one would expect a fresh new nation such as this one to have, and there wasn't as much glitter and glamor as England had expected. The cities were lovely, but not quite as flashy as what Arthur would have expected from the Alfred he had known before their war- before the light had been stolen from him. In some ways, it felt smaller than it should be. "It's quite … nice, actually."
"The gardens are lovely." Kiku mentioned with a gaze out the window towards that mentioned garden. "The colors are quite well placed, one would not have expected such a thing."
Because the garden's owner was blind, the unspoken words hung between them.
"It's more than the colours, Kiku, there is more to a flower than pretty colours." England had come to the realization himself last night, when he had been unable to sleep. The gardens with their midnight glory had called to him. The soft touch of a petal, the scent of a rose, and jasmine, and the unmistakable odor of sweetpea...
"Yes, I know." Japan was smiling when Arthur turned to look at him, "Beauty can be found in more ways than with the eyes alone. It takes an appreciation and a gentle soul to find it."
Arthur chuckled, feeling some of the tension and nausea slipping away. "I think he's forgiven me, but his brother..."
"This one must disagree with that assessment." Japan inclined his head, "I believe there is something else that is trapping our young Canada-san within that shield of anger."
Voices from the corridor behind the little library room in the Virginia home interrupted Arthur before he could ask exactly what the hell that was supposed to mean.
"... damn it, Al." Matthew seemed to be trying to keep his voice hushed, "That asshole … on your birthday, no less?"
England winced, certain of the identity of the named target of Matthew's renewed wrath.
"Mattie, butt the hell out." Alfred's voice was firmer, and had the house not been otherwise silent, Arthur would have probably missed it- "My people will take care of it. It's not like this is the first time he's tried it. I'm not that weak anymore."
Or maybe not. Kiku merely gave him a mild look.
"For crying out loud, Al, you might not be as weak as you were, but you're-"
"Hush." The other boy hissed, "Please, Mattie, I invited people here for the weekend, and I'm not about to let them start worrying about stupid shit like this. Now help me get cleaned up before they see-"
"Do you know what that was about?" Arthur looked at Kiku, who gave a slight nod.
"I believe that I mentioned he had a neighbor who hated him." Kiku said in the same level tone, "This will make the third time this year that America has tried to offer peace to Mexico, and the third time this year that Mexico has laughed in his face, and taken another boarder city."
Arthur stood abruptly, a level of tiredness slipping away as adrenaline took over.
"You mean he's been attacked. And still plans to entertain us as though nothing had happened-"
"He is strong, Igrisu, and stubborn. You of all people should know that."
And he should, Arthur thought, remembering how determined the boy had gotten- then found himself in the hallway, following the arguing pair.
The metallic smell of burned copper made him pause, as he noticed a few spatters of red upon the hardwood floors. They led to Alfred's room.
The sound of running water came from the little bathroom, however when Arthur stepped inside (without knocking, terribly rude, however if he knocked they would hide...) he found Matthew sitting on the edge of the bed, alone.
The young man's face was buried in his hands, shoulders slumped as though exhausted.
England could swear he saw them shake, as though Matthew was about to start crying. But that couldn't be- Canada had stopped crying years ago, after America had been weakened, and Canada was forced to take center stage. He was strong, and assertive-
And England couldn't help but remember a London alley, when the boy had clung to him like a small child, sobbing his eyes out.
"Matthew?"
The shoulders froze, as Matthew quickly seemed to wipe his eyes, and pretended to be just adjusting his glasses.
"Matthew, are you all right?" Alfred was important, but so was Canada. Canada who had been strong for so long-
"Peachy." The guarded response came, sulky mask firmly back on his face. "Don't you knock?"
"I don't when I know someone is trying to hide things from me." Kiku had been absolutely correct. There was something else to Matthew's anger that the boy was desperately trying to hang onto. "Are you still angry with me?"
"... No." the response was troubled, "I- I'm angry with Mexico right now."
"What brought on these attacks?"
"Asshole's trying to get the rest of Texas back. Says the treaty shouldn't have used the Colorado River, when they meant the Trinity. So now they've taken Dallas again, and Al's fucking bleeding, and just taking it- his people are doing the best they can, but the big war's just over, and..."
"He won't let you help. I heard that part."
"Mexico's been pushing him back forever- subtle at first, but. Al couldn't win, because..."
"Because he couldn't see what they were doing." supplied Arthur, when the thought trailed off. Wincing. It's my fault.
"It's my fault." The echo of his thought startled England for a moment, until he realized that Matthew was speaking again, "If I hadn't told him 'No', if I hadn't refused to help him- maybe there would've been something I could've done. I could've been there. If that soldier hadn't shot- if I could've done something- anything-"
"Matthew..." The violet eyes fixed upon him once more, and for the first time, Arthur could see the pain and guilt within. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."
"You don't know that."
"I was there Matthew." Arthur couldn't keep the crack from his voice. "I couldn't hurt him- but I also couldn't prevent him from being hurt."
"I- could have done something," The voice that had been so strong for so long was now at the old whisper, "Something besides hold his hand while he was so sick from that wound. He almost died, Arthur. A nation for a week, and almost..."
"Matthew... you were there with him, propped him up when he needed you the most. It wasn't your fault."
"That's what I've been telling him for years," Alfred's voice came from the connecting door, the boy standing there quietly in a plain robe, holding onto the frame. Blind eyes rested vaguely on his brother. "If he'd come with me, he might have been hurt or killed. He knew his limitations better than I knew my own."
"Alfred, I am sorry." Arthur got over his start first. "I don't know why they fired-"
"We never will know," Alfred's smile was easy, "That soldier is gone now. Probably didn't really know himself. I'm alive, which is the important part. With Adams and Washington prodding me... I couldn't stay down for long. And I couldn't stay angry. You were horrified. I can remember that part clearly. I wanted your respect as an equal, to be your friend, not your child- You could have hated me, but, even after everything I said, everything I did, you still cared about me. It took Mattie a while to understand."
"I understand, dumbass." Matthew grumbled, and then moved swiftly to Alfred's side, as the color drained from his brother's face. "It doesn't help sometimes. You really need to stop fucking around, and do something about Mexico, you know."
"I know." Alfred confirmed, as Matthew led him to the bed, allowed himself to be seated upon it. "That's next."
The robe was pulled down, so that Matthew could view his brother's lower back, carefully locating the bandages that had been hidden in the folds of the duvet.
From what Arthur could see, it was a long, deep gash, still oozing blood.
He stepped forward.
"Would you allow me to help? I have had some experience with things such as this..."
A faint smile crossed the younger face as he slowly inclined his head.
The elder glanced up towards England the war in the violet eyes finally coming to an end, and a cautiously welcoming gaze settled upon him.
"You … still do needlework, right?"