Disclaimer: I still don't own Hetalia. However, I will have fun with the characters.
Arthur read his book in his chair enjoying the relative quiet as Evelyn flipped through the movie channels looking for something to watch. The evening wore on and the sun sank below the horizon no longer offering the natural light the Brit preferred. He reached up turning on the lamp in the corner.
As he did so, his eyes were drawn towards the television screen. Somehow, the girl had found a channel showing an American horror movie. On screen, an attractive teenaged-girl was making her way down a dimly lit hallway, the overhead lights flickering ominously. Arthur sighed. These movies were all so predictable. In a minute, the lights would die completely and the monster/ghost would appear and kill her; the cycle would continue through the rest of the movie leaving only one couple alive and a teaser for a equally bad, if not worse, sequel.
Who could ever be scared by such rubbish? Arthur thought absently before turning back to his book.
As predicted, a scream came from the television speakers. However, it was immediately followed by another one and a pair of hands clutching to his arm. The Brit jumped at the sudden contact nearly dropping his book. When he settled, he looked down to find Evelyn holding to his arm for dear life (and her grip was much stronger than he would've given her credit for) trembling with eyes closed in fear. She must've launched herself at him from the couch when the ghost appeared seeking the closest source of comfort—why she chose him, he had no idea.
He opened his mouth to tell her to get off, but paused. The American girl was kneeling by his chair trying to make herself as small as possible, still trembling. She was biting her lip cutely, in a childish way, and hiding her head in the small space between the back of the chair and the armrest.
"Bloody hell," he sighed with no real heat behind it.
"I'm sorry," Evelyn apologized, the words muffled by the chair. "I thought I could handle it this time, I really did. Nina said this one wasn't bad, so I thought…I'm sorry." Her grip still hadn't lessened on his arm however; he was glad he didn't bruise easily.
The Brit set his book to the side marking his place first. First things first, she had to let go of his arm. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Evelyn, why don't you move back to the couch?" It wasn't really a question, but he didn't think yelling at her would help the situation in the least.
The terrified college student shook her head adamantly. "But Artie…it's scary…"
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. What had he done to deserve this? "How about if I move with you?" He didn't even notice his voice changing, taking on the natural paternal tone that had developed during his Empire days. "I can't turn off the movie from over here and certainly not with you clutching my arm like that."
Evelyn thought about it then nodded slowly.
Carefully, Arthur stood half-dragging the girl and moved over to the couch hitting the power button on the remote as they sat down. Evelyn curled up in a tight ball next to him. The Brit stiffened at the even closer contact, but forced himself to relax; if he was on edge, she would never calm down.
Awkwardly, he rubbed small, soothing circles into her back cursing the reminder of another American he used to care for. Unsure what else to do, he began to sing. The song was an old lullaby, but that wasn't all that important; what was important was the low, calming tone he sang it in never once pausing in his comforting motions.
Gradually, the American's iron grip loosened and her eyes closed as if weighed with lead though she fought to keep them open. Her whole body relaxed and she slumped limply against him, breathing regular.
Arthur sang a few more bars to make sure she was truthfully asleep. Careful so as not to wake her, he extricated himself from her now slack hold gently laying her down. Taking the quilt from the back of the couch, he tucked her in pushing back a stray strand of blonde hair tickling her nose.
His breath caught in his throat. She reminded him so much of him, it pained his heart. Every memory he had pushed away, all the time he had spent trying to forget—it was all for nothing. France had claimed she was the new America. If he was wrong, then the English nation would remind his old rival just how fearsome the former British Empire could be.
The Englishman whispered a "Sleep well" to the peaceful American and retreated to his own bed.
Evelyn's episodes had been few and far between since she arrived, none had been anything of consequence. However, her dreams had continued without fail every night; Arthur could sometimes hear her mumbling in her sleep.
The Brit did wonder about her infrequent episodes. If what the Frenchman said was true and her episodes were related to America, then the girl should be having more of her blackouts the more time she spent with him. Perhaps he had just been lucky so far.
And then his luck ran out.
Evelyn lay on her stomach in the Englishman's library/study a variety of historical texts spread around her. She would flip between the pages in no discernible order taking notes in a notebook she had borrowed (stolen) from him. At one point, she flipped to a map of the old Atlantic trade routes. Suddenly, she stilled.
Arthur looked up from his paperwork at his desk. Her eyes were glazed, her head tilted slightly to the side. Then her finger started to trace the route from London to Boston absently.
"Hey England, have you really traveled all over the world?"
The nation didn't know what to do. "Evelyn?" he asked concerned.
He recognized that bright, idiotic smile that seemed to take up her entire face and the excitement in her eyes at the prospect of adventure. "I want to travel all over someday too, just like you!"
England remembered this conversation. He had been teaching his new colony geography adding in stories of his own experiences (minus his piratical endeavors of course) and the young nation had become excited over the prospect of perhaps accompanying his guardian on a voyage one day.
"Maybe Mattie could come too. I'd hafta protect him 'cause he would get scared though."
Even then, he had tried to be the hero. As far as England knew, Canada had never been afraid of sailing, but the elder twin would always claim he had to protect his brother. Arthur got up from his desk going to kneel beside the clearly oblivious American. He rested a hand on her back and she jumped, the haze clearing from her eyes.
"Ar-Artie!" she exclaimed startled. "Damn it." She rubbed at her eyes irritably; the insult wasn't aimed at her host. "I thought I was getting better." Evelyn jumped to her feet surprising Arthur and almost knocking him off-balance.
"Are you okay?" the Brit asked also standing.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine." She gathered up the books awkwardly not meeting his eyes. Arthur had learned early on the girl didn't like talking about her episodes, but this one seemed to have her agitated for some reason.
"Do you remember any of it?" On the one hand, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to remember, but it was the only reason he could determine for her current mood.
"No, I never can," she replied distractedly. The American fixed her ponytail nervously, biting her lip. She would tell him what was bothering her soon; he just had to be patient. "I been to a lot of doctors since my episodes started, but none of them can find anything wrong with me. The psychologists think it's some sort of PTSD, but it came a whole lot later, so it can't be that."
She must be referring to her parents' deaths though Arthur didn't know the exact details.
"I thought I was getting better," she continued rambling. "I mean, since I've been here, I only had that one really bad episode and that's when I first got here! I still have my dreams, but everyone dreams, so that's not that big of a deal and then this happens! I don't know why I'm even bothered by it anymore; I gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago."
The Brit had listened to her rant as she paced the room uncertain how to deal with a frantic American girl. After all, the last time turned out so well.
"You know what, forget it. I'm going to make some lunch. You hungry?" She all but raced from the room. Arthur followed her soon after.
He watched her closer after that waiting for the next episode. It came not long after. Evelyn had come across the wooden toy soldier. The paint was almost completely faded, but some detail could still be determined such as the uniform. Arthur had made each soldier himself hurting his hand in the process, but it was worth it when he had seen his boy's smile. Now it was just a reminder of things he had lost.
The English nation found his guest on her knees in the middle of the hall. She was holding the toy loosely in both hands, her eyes glazed over like the last time. Her mouth opened and he listened filling in the missing pieces with his own memories.
When Evelyn came back to the present, she looked at the toy in her hands, then to Arthur, confused. The Brit shook his head taking the wooden soldier from her sadly. He didn't want to talk about it and the American felt it wouldn't be good to ask.
She was bored. Scratch that, she was beyond bored. Arthur had returned to work and she felt guilty knowing he had taken time off because of her, but he had also left her alone in the house; it was raining, so she couldn't just go for a walk.
Evelyn huffed, retreating back upstairs to her room passing one of the few doors Arthur always kept closed. She paused. He had said it led to the attic; he also said his family had lived here for as long as he could remember, so there had to be something of interest up there.
She opened the door and flicked on the light as she ascended. At the top, she took a quick look around smiling triumphantly.
Arthur's attic was a literal goldmine.
When he got home, there was no sign of the ever-present American. He called her name a couple times and received no response. His heart beat a little faster; he would never admit he was worried, after all, she hadn't been here long enough for him to get attached.
Nevertheless, he climbed the stairs quickly (he did not run) to check the guest room only to find the attic door open. Now worried for entirely different reasons, Arthur went up relieved to find the American and annoyed that she was rifling through his things.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
She looked up from a chest of things from the Victorian Era grinning excitedly. "Heya Artie. How was work?"
"Normal unlike everything else at the moment. Now answer the question!"
"I was bored and curious. Do you even know what you have up here? Museums would kill for some of these things and you're holding them hostage in your attic. I mean, seriously!"
He knew perfectly well what his attic contained, and she wasn't the first to suggest he donate some of it to museums, but they were his things damn it! His memories—good and bad—and he could never part with any of it.
Something metallic glinted in the harsh light of the bare bulb. It was enough to catch Evelyn's attention. Pulling something long and thin from between two boxes, she whispered in some awe, "This can't be real…"
Arthur examined the object. To him, it wasn't all that impressive: a simple black sheath serving as home for a cutlass, the golden hilt now tarnished with age. Engraved into the cross guard, he knew, were the words A Gentleman Pirate; it had been a gift from the monarch of the time.
Evelyn grasped the hilt; the blade rasped against the sheath as she drew it from its resting place. Gleaming dully in the artificial light, the sword still held traces of its old deadly elegance. "This is a captain's sword," she declared confidently. She looked at it closely running one finger over every inch until she found the engraving. "A pirate captain's sword," she corrected herself, eyes lighting up further if that were possible.
"Do you have an interest in pirates?" Arthur asked a little hesitantly.
"Are you kidding? Pirates are awesome! Especially English pirates." She posed dramatically, sword held at an imaginary enemy's throat. "Taking down the Spanish Armada, claiming Mastery of the Seas," she continued punctuating each point with a different pose, "sailing to the far corners of the world looting and plundering, building a reputation feared by merchants and Royal Navy alike."
He leaned against the doorframe. If she only knew what kind of reputation he had. The corner of his lips twisted upwards as he remembered.
"So you can smile." She stood with the sword at her side, grinning foolishly. "I was beginning to think you were a grumpy old man all the time."
Arthur scowled again in irritation. "I'm not old."
She pointed the sword at him still grinning. "Aye, you are! And I, Captain Summers, will make you walk the plank. To the Locker you grumpy old landlubber!"
The girl obviously had a romanticized view of pirates propagated by those American movies and modern culture. Perhaps he would show her what a true pirate could do…
His eyes darkened fractionally as he moved, side stepping the blade and grabbing her wrist, pulling her off balance. He followed with a swift kick to behind the knees jerking the blade from her hand as she was sprawled on the floor. Moving in front of her, he set the tip of the blade just beyond the edge of her nose so she went cross-eyed looking at it.
"No one threatens Captain Kirkland, especially with his own bloody sword."
Evelyn looked truly frightened now. He had knocked the wind out of her and her breath came in shallow gasps, eyes never leaving the blade. She would never last in a real battle. Arthur pushed his pirate side away resting the sword at his side as he offered her a hand up. She took it cautiously; almost afraid she would provoke him again.
In a spur of the moment decision, he reversed the blade and held it out to her. The American looked at him questioningly and he nodded in encouragement. She grasped the hilt once more and he moved behind her placing a hand over her own as he adjusted her grip.
"You were holding it wrong. The sword should be an extension of your body; a fall like that shouldn't have disarmed you so easily."
He pulled back and watched as she swung the weapon experimentally testing the new grip. She smiled and his lips quirked upward at her joy.
After about another minute, she retrieved the sheath and put the sword away laying it almost ceremoniously on top of the trunk she had been perusing before.
"I wonder what else is up here," she mused choosing to ignore his abrupt personality switch for the time being.
"All manner of things I would imagine."
She went to another trunk kneeling as she opened the lid. Arthur caught a flash of red, the wood and metal of a musket…
He rushed to the trunk slamming the lid back down. Evelyn, startled, jumped up and back. The Brit was breathing heavily, once more trying to push down those painful memories and afraid of what would happen if the girl had actually seen that coat and musket. Would she have another episode? Would she even remember if she did?
"Artie, are you okay?" she reached a hand out as if to lay it on his shoulder in comfort. He turned quickly brushing it away though not unkindly.
"Perfectly. I think we've had enough of these old memories for one day. I'm sure you must be starving by now."
Her stomach grumbled an affirmative and she blushed. "Can we get hamburgers?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. What was with Americans and bloody hamburgers?
A/N: Finally! Sorry this is so late, I'm probably should've gotten this up yesterday with Halloween and all…
Anyways, guess what I went as for Halloween? A pirate! Hell yeah, I was Captain Kirkland. :D
Reviews are always loved and appreciated. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out quicker…
P.S. I had a lovely review from someone and I really wanted to respond, but they had PM disabled. Sad day. I do try to reply if you've taken the time to write out a well-thought out, constructive review. I love it when I hear back from an author I've reviewed for and I'm sure others feel the same. So, to that reviewer, I'm glad you like the story so much and I will try to keep Artie from being a complete emo. Thanks!