Oh, wow! Thank you SO very much to Wirewolf, firr . verdepol, ChaoticXXHearts, and Dontmezwitme for the just wonderful reviews! ;_; Seriously, guys. (And thanks for pointing out some of the problems with the notes, Wirewolf. That really helps a lot! I'll be sure to fix those ;) )
Right: Uh, well. I'm, I'm doing better! About a week in between this time!
World Affairs: Part Three of Three
The blackness surrounded the city so thickly that Jefferson could hardly see his hand in front of his face. He released a cry to the people on the streets below, telling them to get inside and stop honking their damn car horns, but it was mute even to his ears.
Screeching through the streets, the wind tore into everything. Glass was breaking, trees snapping like twigs, and in a flash of lightning the Statesman could have sworn he saw a billboard flung into the side of a building.
As the burning cold reached the pit of his stomach, the boy doubled over, kept up only by resting his shoulder against the railing of the balcony. He moaned, again a noise felt more in his throat than in his ears. It hurt. Damn it, it hurt.
These storms had been hitting the southern coast of the sunshine state for weeks but this, this was just unnatural. Its force, the sheer volume of the blasts felt like they were crushing the bones in his hips and legs. It was a constant, unrelenting pounding into his body.
He felt strong arms wrap around him and yank him into the opened door of the apartment. In his daze, Jefferson did not even bother to look up and see who it was leading him through the complex and down the winding stairs toward safety. His head was still spinning and he was wondering if his twin sister was feeling the same torture as him.
When he felt his legs about to give up beneath him, Jefferson leaned closer to the pale woman. It felt warm in her arms.
"Thank you," he muttered as the world began to go black. "Thank you, Ms. Smith. Good luck with your election campaign."
With that, the embodiment of Northern California felt his consciousness slip through his own fingers like water.
"You are not coming to the meeting then?"
Ludwig had had just about enough of his brother's self-pitying these past few days. It was not as if Germany had forgotten about Prussia or Bismark or, and God forbid, Frederick II. The government had simply thought it best to highlight more recent aspects of its history. There was no need to dig up bad memories about the World Wars. Ludwig couldn't have agreed more with that.
Gilbert took it personally, though. Ludwig should have known he would. Alas, he had been caught off guard.
"Oh, just piss off," the red-eyed brother hissed. "I'm feeding my chicks."
The yellow birds chirped happily at the concept and fluttered to the ground in anticipation of some thrown seed. All with the exception of his favorite, Gilbird, who rested securely on the former Nation's head.
"Ve~" came a familiar noise from the hall.
The German sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was just so unsure of what to do with Prussia anymore. Gilbert, for all intents and purposes, did not exist. But, really, had he ever? Land alone obviously was not a factor in their kind's existence, as even in Prussia's own history he had first been a Teutonic Knight, not land based.
"Oh, look, your husband," the Prussian sneered. "Or is it not legal anymore because the Pact of Steel no longer exists?"
"I am not married to Italy," Ludwig responded flatly. "And it is not as though the Pact of Steel no longer exists, it happened. It is just no longer focused on in education. And so does Preußen—"
"Ve, Ludwig!" Feliciano called out before sticking his head into the door. The Italian man grinned happily as he sat eyes on Germany, something the German only wished he could return with half the enthusiasm. "So unlike you not to be telling me I'm late for a meeting. If you don't hurry we won't get seats by Nihon! And you'll be on time instead of early."
"Ja, I know," Ludwig responded before looking to his brother once more, his heart aching as Gilbert again refused to even look at him. "Gilbert, you are half of this Union. You need to have as much in put in the meeting as I do. I need your military insight and—"
"I said piss off, West," Prussia hissed. "I don't have in put in the Union. Why would I have in put in this meeting? You make me so mad I'll get ill. Just leave."
For a moment, Germany did not move. He waited for his brother to calm down, to speak about this issue in more calmed terms, but it did not happen. Gilbert walked through the door that connected their offices and slammed it behind his chicks, rattling the frame so much that the old sign (Ludwig told him to replace that damn thing) fell off.
Not sure whether he was more hurt or enraged by his older brother's acts, Ludwig released the growl he had been suppressing. This caused a whimper behind him and he remembered that his friend was in the room.
Feliciano was trembling. "Super scary," he said through chattering teeth before looking to Ludwig more directly. "Ve, Ludwig … are you okay? It sounded as though you and Gilbert were fighting."
"That is because ve vere," Ludwig sighed. "I passed an education reform bill and he believes I am erasing him from our shared history now. I did not think it vould upset him so much else I vould have not approved it."
"He needs some good pasta to make him feel better," Italy summed up before looking to Ludwig. "But Prussia always says mean things. How can you tell he is upset this time?"
"Because he has not called himself 'Avesome,'" he responded before grabbing his suitcase and making his way toward the hallway door. "But vhy are you running late, Feliciano?"
The shorter man quickly caught up with the German as they made their way through the halls to the orator room.
"I was cooking in the kitchen because I did not like the food served at the hotel for breakfast," Italy said with his placid smile never leaving his relaxed, simple features.
"Of course," Ludwig sighed.
"I got so carried away by my cooking, I began to wonder if I was going to miss the meeting," he continued, his stride now becoming a near skip in order to compensate for the German's longer steps. "Then I said to myself 'Germany would not let me be late for a meeting like this!' So I kept cooking. And now I'm almost late! Lesson learned. Say, Ludwig, you're moving very fast. It's kinda hard to keep up!"
"I realize I am moving fast. I vant to get to the meeting before it starts," Ludwig responded quickly.
"Then can't we run?"
"That vould be undignified," he sighed.
They reached the doors and found them opened to the room which was already filling with the other nations. Ludwig groaned and Italy sighed a long, willowy sigh.
"I hope Nihon thought to save us some seats."
"Our seats are reserved," Ludwig reminded his friend as they began to maneuver through the crowd. "Ve are members of the Group of Eight and Group of Tventy."
"Ve, Gruppo di ventotto."
"You are being ridiculous, Italien."
They crossed the aisles until they reached the bottom of the arena. Germany scanned the table for their name cards and, sure enough, there they were with the other members of the G8. Romano already sat at his seat beneath the shared label of Repubblica Italiana. He was also glaring daggers at Ludwig, though, for the life of him, Germany could not recall what he could have done to earn it.
Knowing his closest ally's brother, it wouldn't take much.
"Guten abden, Lovino," Ludwig attempted as he took the seat marked Bundesrepublik Deutschland beside Feliciano, ignoring the empty seat separating him from Japan.
"Lasciami in pace, Kraut," Romano snapped angrily before looking back to the empty stage. He then released his horrified yell as Feliciano wrapped his arms around the angrier Italian and began to attempt hug therapy with him again. "Let go of me, you smell like old sausage! Veneziano!"
Sighing in defeat, Ludwig turned and looked to Kiku. "Evening, Japan. I am glad we have not seemed to miss much."
"Hai, you did not," the other nation responded stoically. However, Kiku turned to face him more directly and grew a small, put upon frown. "Ludwig-san, it is very unlike you to not be here sooner. I was growing concerned."
"I have had a long morning, Kiku," the German responded before rubbing his face. He could feel this shift of Japan's gaze from his shoulders to the empty seat alongside him.
"Ve, Gilbert is unhappy, Nihon," Italy piped up after being shoved away by Romano. "It was scary. I saw it all. But really, I only saw half. But that half was scary."
To this, Kiku sighed and turned his head slight to the row behind them, the row for members of the G20 who did not occupy the front row with the G8. He frowned and then looked back to the stage. "Brothers can leave one emotionally drained. You have my sympathies, Ludwig-san."
Ludwig frowned and looked to Feliciano who was already looking to him for a suggestion on the situation. Nothing came to mind for either of them.
They simply watched as America and the United Kingdom entered the doors last and the elder made his way to the podium to begin the meeting. Germany furrowed his brow and brought a hand to his mouth as he watched them. There was something tense on the stage and it was not just the situation with Australia.
The dichotomy shared by the former brothers was explosive, anyone who knew the two Nations could have told that. But as the United Kingdom dove deeper into the introduction and his well-prepared speech, it became apparent to Ludwig that it was not him that was the cause of this strange aura.
Instead, Ludwig focused on America who seemed to be having a nervous tic. This was odd.
For one thing, America never got nervous.
Like the other members of the G8, Canada had a seat reserved for him with the marker of his official title scrawled on it. He rarely sat in it, though.
No one ever bothered him about his choice, more than likely because they never noticed his absent presence. He did not complain, though. He never did. Instead he made his way toward the section of countries where many of the Caribbean and Latin American countries sat.
He was never sure why but Matt was rarely forgotten by these countries. Occasionally they would mistake him for Alfred and therefore attack him, verbally or physically, for things his rambunctious brother did but they soon recalled his identity afterward.
Matt was also coming to this area for strategic purposes. Al and Arthur would both work hard to convince the G8 and G20 to be more gracious toward their unfortunate little brother, so other than respectfully request audience with France there wasn't much for Canada to work with there.
He could gather support from these other, less celebrated countries he had close ties with, though. He just had to remind them that Australia was as much Canada's brother as he was Britain or America. Those two were not very popular in the formerly colonized countries to say the least …
"Yo, Canada," a familiar, gruff voice beckoned from the section of seats.
Matt smiled politely at the Cuban. "I hope it's okay if I sit with you guys."
"Sure thing," he spoke up before any of the other nations could think to protest it (if they would, that is). Cuba then slid over slightly, inadvertently uprooting Bahamas and Jamaica. "Although I don't know why you never want to sit up there in your fancy seat. You could probably see better there than up here, amigo."
To this the blond Nation shrugged and took his corner seat beside his close friend. "That's what I'm wearing my glasses for."
"Is it your brother? He giving you problems?"
Canada shook his head. "No, nothing like that at all. We've gotten along better working on this project for Australia than we have in years," he admitted. "And Al's never been that bad."
This caused the Cuban to snort. The island nation shook his head. "He might be your twin, amigo, but don't forget that he can be a mean hijo de puta when he wants to be."
Well, the twin couldn't deny that.
Instead, Matthew remained silent and, out of respect for their friendship, Carlos nodded to himself and looked forward to the stage below. Matt heard him give a low, disapproving sound with the other Latin American Nations as Matt's brothers came across the stage to start the presentation but, otherwise said nothing more on the matter.
Just like when he was a young colony, Matt looked attentively at Arthur. Fortunately, very unlike their colonized days, Alfred was actually doing his best not to distract.
"Good evening," Arthur almost muttered as he straightened his papers on the podium and plugged in the presentation feed he had been working on for months. "I am sure you all know why we are here, and why this matter is of the utmost importance for us to discuss."
"Yeah," muttered someone behind Matt, Haiti he thought. "Another British kid at it again."
Matt sighed. He was used to it.
"It is an unfortunate matter," Arthur continued, his tone thick with age, experience, and a bit of sadness. "It is one we all wish to never experience for ourselves, the conquest of a Nation's government over our trust in our own people. No one wants to be taken by surprise, not in this way. Not in the way Australia was blindsided."
Arthur continued but Matt found himself distracted by a general unrest in the audience. It was accented by Cuba's, "¿Qué diablos está haciendo?"
The northern country looked to his friend for a moment before glancing back to the stage. His eyes fell to Arthur by default before slowly making their way to Arthur's right side where his twin stood. It made Matt blink a few times in surprise before leaning forward.
Alfred's head kept jerking to the side in strange convulsions, as if turning on its own before its owner could properly move it back to its rightful place. His mouth was in an uncharacteristic frown and flinching in the corners as fast as the twitch of a rabbit's nose. Sweat was beading his brother's forehead and it looked as though the Nation was only standing still because he had no idea what to do.
"What's going on with you, Al?" Matt muttered just about the time his twin began to bend his knees and lean forward slightly.
America cupped his hands over his mouth and screwed his eyes tightly shut before giving a rattling cough. The rest of the conference room was no longer silent, and Arthur was no longer giving his spill.
The British Isles turned and, forgetting the microphone on his jacket, muttered, "What the bloody hell are you doing back there?"
"Fuck," Al responded before crashing face first into the floor, completely unconscious.
Nations were suddenly panicking, everyone raising out of their seats and yelling loudly, mostly in their native tongues, while Canada merely sat frozen in his seat, taking in the world for a moment before lunging into the walk way. He was nearly to the stage where Arthur, Kiku, and Ludwig had already begun trying to wake his brother when he heard screams.
He glanced over to see that Mexico was now flat on the floor as well, along with several of the neighboring Latin countries he had just been sitting with. Then Peru dropped.
"Oh, my god," Matt said breathlessly before racing to the stage, sweat beginning to slick down the hair resting on his neck. He looked over his unconscious brother with a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach.
"Mathieu?" asked a familiar voice that Canada didn't even have to turn around and recognize as his colonizer's. "Mon cher, you do not look so good."
Matt coughed and grabbed his chest. "No. I don't feel good either," he muttered before closing his eyes.
The younger Nation frowned at her brother, tossing her head to the side as she watched him intently. True, her recovery had not taken as long as his, and a Nation shouldn't take as long as their human civilians to recover from injuries, but it all still struck her as odd.
Australia himself struck her as odd.
"Do you think this'll blow over?" the Principality of Wy questioned as she tapped her fingers against her cheek.
"Aye," her brother responded as he lowered to his haunches and held out a finger for the tiny joey before him to sniff.
Cody got an unusual look on his face as the timid creature reached out and nibbled lovingly at him. He was always such a sucker for wildlife, particularly those he took charge of under his own nation. Many would call the continent's creatures strange or unusual, but the Nation loved each of them, from dingo to platypus.
Bludger, angry and jealous as ever, clung to the Australian's hat and snarled at the baby roo, earning him a distrustful look from the mother nearby.
"I hope she kicks you in the head," Wy snorted as she drew in her notebook. Her brown eyes occasionally glanced up from the white paper to re-analyze the scene she was hoping to capture.
"Oi, Sheila, you're such a mean thing when you need to be," Cody laughed as he finally patted the joey on the head and let him scamper off to his mother. He sighed and stood up, looking over the small, pathetic enclosure that had become the sort of make-shift reserve in the past few months.
He frowned and folded his arms gingerly over a still burning chest. It made him think of his poor Outback.
"I lost so many," he sighed. "Roos used to be such a problem, Wy. Now I wish I had ten thousand more."
The girl did not respond, though she shook her head. Of course. Of course that would be what got to Cody in the end. The lives of his animals and, hidden beneath what some would call superficial grief, all those human lives. Australia may not have been the quickest to draw or the sharpest in the shed (damn him for that blasted driveway), but it was hard to find a Nation who felt more intense love for the people, the wild, and the spirit of his land.
"You'll be able to rebuild," she reminded him. "You've got help, you don't have to do anything on your own."
"I'll have scars," he responded, more to himself than to her. He was thumbing a small part of his chest left exposed by his shirt. Yet, she knew these were not the scars he was talking about. "And I just don't know how much help it'll be."
"Little faith in America?" she asked.
He laughed, a wild grin finally returning to its proper spot. "Er, no. Not exactly."
"I have little," she admitted with a joking grin. She folded up her notebook and tucked her sketching pen behind her ear. Swinging her legs around the rock she had been sitting on, she lightly shifted to her feet and made her way to her brother. "He's a bit of nong."
"He's not a bad one," the Aussie reminded her before reaching over and yanking her close, rubbing her head roughly despite her protests. "Thanks, you beaut."
Finally growling and shoving off of him, Sheila rubbed her head. "For what?"
"Roughin' it out with me," he said with a bit of frailty coming through his stupid smile. "You don't know what it means to me."
She shrugged. "Make a good fist, Cody. It'll be over soon enough. Then things will be normal."
This caused him to frown.
Before they could continue, however, they were interrupted by the flinging open of the back gate. They glanced back and took notice of the Governor-General of Australia himself. It caused both nations to stiffen and Cody to grow a bit of an anxious look on his face. Wy grabbed his hand supportively.
She wasn't sure if her older brother could take bad news again.
"Any word from the conference, Prime Minister?" he asked hopefully.
Prime Minister Jordan stopped, looked around the reservation. "What are you doing here, Cody?"
"Reconnecting with the wild, Sir," Australia reasoned. "Your boys won't let me go too far out in the real world, it's as close as I get to my other residents." He nodded to the group of roos who had gathered curiously only a few feet away. He smiled softly at them, as if to reassure them.
"Alright then," the boss responded, finding it best not to press the issue any further. "I am afraid that we won't be getting much aid from the conference, Cody."
This caused the Nation to blink before looking back to his Boss. He frowned.
"They already done?" he asked, a little deflated. He had hoped that his judgment would take longer with Alfred and Arthur backing him up.
"I don't know about that," muttered the leader. "But it won't last for much longer. The North American continent is being swallowed up in a super storm." Cody gaped in shock and confusion. "And … I don't think it's unconnected with what happened in the Bush."
Covering her mouth, Wy found her mind reeling. She looked to her brother and watched as his sun kissed skin became a pale white.
[Notes]
*Pact of Steel, 22 May 1939, yes we all know what it is tanks to Hetalia. I DO find it hilarious that it is "formally known" as the Pact of Friendship and Alliance between Germany and Italy. Because, y'know, it needs more clarification like that.
*"Nihon." Japanese. "Japan. (Left and I have it in our headcanons that the former Axis members are close enough that this is Italy's "pet name" for Japan)
*"hijo de puta." Spanish. "Son of a bitch."
*"¿Qué diablos está haciendo?" Spanish. "What's he doing?"
Right: Okay, compared to the last two this is a long chapter *smack self* Terrible editing. But it's the last you'll be hearing directly from me for a bit so hopefully you can enjoy it enough to get to Left's arc, the good stuff. Thanks for sticking with me regardless!
Please Review!