Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. *Looks sadly at her college loans*
Evelyn's alarm went off too early the next morning. She briefly considered throwing the offensive object across the room to make it shut up, but she resisted the urge settling for hitting the snooze button and turning over to face the wall.
She buried he nose in her musty bed spread; it would take more than one night to make it smelled used again. She stretched out debating if the blue comforter would fit in the washing machine or if she would have to take a trip to the laundry mat to clean it. Evelyn gave a slight start when white walls with boring scenery didn't fill her vision but band and movie posters on pale blue walls. She slid her feet out onto floor, or what would have been the floor if a pair of clothes hadn't been left there. Her eyes traveled the floor mapping out a semi-less hazardous path through the clothes and stacks of books.
As she made her way out of her room the mustiness of disuse and the normal smell of the apartment met her nose. She decided she liked Arthur's home more. The tea or fresh rain smell that permeated through Arthur's different rooms was comforting. Her apartment smelled…she sniffed, her nose she could never quite identify the smell, but it was better than when they cleaned; the harsh chemical smell from the cleaners made her want to gag.
She looked out of her room then back to her not overly plush bed. She moaned before turning to shuffle back to the bed only to stub her toe on cheap particle board furniture and fall back into bed with a grunt. She shut her eyes content to give up and go back to sleep.
Evelyn groaned when the alarm started going off again. She was jetlagged. She had spent so much time in London her body had adjusted to their time schedule and she hadn't been able to get to sleep last night until much too late. Why could her alarm clock not understand this simple fact? Evelyn retreated further under the blankets trying to block out the sunlight. Not only was she jetlagged, but she had an enormous headache that was teetering on the edge of a migraine. He throbbing toe wasn't helping any.
Life was just bloody perfect.
When had she started cursing like Arthur?
The American laughed softly to herself grimacing when the action aggravated her headache. She hadn't heard anything back from her new favorite Englishman, but it had been pretty late over there when she had left her last message and, knowing Arthur, he was aware of the time difference and would wait to call her back at a decent time…if he did at all.
At the time, she had been so excited to go home and see her friends again she hadn't been really paying attention to the Brit. Now that she thought back (difficult with such an annoying headache) he had seemed almost in a hurry to get her on the plane. It was strange because she had thought they were getting along well and he had done a lot that he didn't have to.
She sighed as she turned back over to silence her alarm once again. Maybe she was over thinking things. He still had to go work that day as well and she had nearly made them late by baking those cookies…and making a mess of the kitchen.
Giving up on sleep, especially since she had already finished the dream, Evelyn rolled out of bed immediately going for the aspirin. She had to see her professors today and she did not want to talk to them with a pounding headache. Especially since one of them gave her a headache.
"Morning sleepyhead!" Jessica chirruped happily handing her the cereal and milk.
"Since when are you a morning person?" Evelyn asked grumpily. She found her bowl was actually filled with some of Jessica's Special K. It's not that she minded the healthier cereal, she just preferred her childhood favorites like Fruit Loops or Fruity Pebbles. Either one of those sounded good, but she hadn't been here for some time so she couldn't really expect them to keep her favorites around. Maybe she should pick up some scones from the store…
From the couch, Nina said, "She's bragging about how she's up earlier than you for once." The dark-haired girl closed her textbook joining her two friends at the table. "How are your uncles?"
Evelyn stared at her uncomprehendingly for a minute before she remembered the lie she had told them. "Oh! My uncles…they're doing fine."
"What about your episodes?" Jess asked almost in a whisper. It had always been like that whenever her episodes were mentioned. It was like something taboo, a dirty secret that had to be kept from others.
Evelyn frowned eating another spoonful of cereal to buy her some time. Should she tell them her episodes were getting worse? She didn't want to worry them, but they were bound to find out sooner or later—especially when she had another one.
"I'm having more of them and I can remember them now," she replied bluntly.
"Really?!"
"What?!"
Evelyn recoiled slightly from the intensity of their reactions. The higher pitch reminded her of her headache. She rubbed her temple answering, "I have it under control." She stuffed more cereal into her mouth quickly moving to the sink. Swallowing, she continued, "Gotta go! Have to talk to my profs if I want to stay in school!"
She raced from the apartment making sure to grab her phone.
Evelyn scanned the seemingly endless stacks searching for just the right books. Her professor had given her the chance to pass the class despite all the time and assignments she had missed—she only had to write one incredibly long research paper spanning the length of the Revolution and after concerning the relations between America and England.
She should've never told him she had been in London.
The girl took down a thicker volume, the pages yellowed with age. Next to it was a newer text and she took that as well for comparison. Evelyn put both texts beside her laptop; Microsoft Word was already open and ready for her notes.
She flipped through the older text first copying down important points comparing with the information in the Powerpoint slides provided by her professor. By the time she had finished, it was late afternoon and she was yawning. She bought another coffee from the library's coffee shop and returned to her research.
The newer text had pictures. Evelyn scanned the chapters adding and deleting to her notes as she deemed necessary. Near the middle, filling the majority of the page was a portrait. The painting wasn't all that different from others she had seen: a man in the full military regalia of a British Regular. What was different was that he looked so familiar.
Messy blonde hair did nothing to obscure bushy eyebrows, but the most striking feature still remained the brilliantly green eyes—it was Arthur.
Or at least someone who looked a lot like the grumpy Brit. Evelyn read the caption, her eyes widening in shock as she read it again and again. That was impossible; it had to be an ancestor…and Artie had really strong genes. Maybe she was just so tired she was seeing things, reading things that weren't there. The caption said the portrait was of an Arthur Kirkland, a major player during the Revolution and yet few records remain of him except in the most comprehensive of archives.
Like the National Archives? Evelyn thought still studying the portrait. She took the much abused wallet out of her back pocket removing a flimsy piece of plastic from its interior.
It was Arthur's library card. He had given it to her to use while she had been in London, but she had forgotten to give it back before she left. She checked the back; the card had been issued by the government and granted access into any library in England—and America. That little bit of fine print had confused her when she first seen it (still did), but it could be advantageous now.
Evelyn flipped the card around between her fingers. The National Archives weren't all that far away and she could easily go tomorrow and do more research—for her paper of course—and if she just happened to find out more about this ancestor…where would be the harm?
The next morning, Evelyn woke early from a restless night. The dreams had been particularly bad that night revolving around scenes of war; most of the time it was raining and she had been covered in mud and completely miserable.
And yet there was still that sense that it wasn't her.
The American dressed quickly splashing her face with cold water to clear the previous night's visions and to help her wake up. She grasped the sides of the sink taking deep breaths and let the nightmares fade. Grabbing her things, she ran to the bus stop barely catching the bus that would take her to the Archives.
The National Archives was an imposing Neo-classical structure located on Pennsylvania Avenue near the J. Edgar Hoover building; across the way, along the National Mall, was the Natural History Museum where she had spent much of her time. She had often admired the building, but never had the chance to go in.
Apprehensively, she ascended the stairs to the main entrance gripping the strap of her bag. Inside, she approached the front desk admiring the almost lavish interior. The dark wood and gold leaf made her self-conscious; she felt underdressed in her jeans. Without realizing it, she started walking on her toes to keep as quiet as possible. The silence was almost suffocating. Halfway to the desk, her Converse squeaked against the tile floor and she visibly cringed trying to walk even quieter.
"May I help you?" a woman asked removing her glasses.
Evelyn shifted nervously. She wasn't doing anything wrong, so why did she feel like an errant child? It had to be the surroundings. "Er, yeah, I was wondering if I could look at your records concerning the American Revolution." She kept her voice barely above a whisper although the woman talked normally.
"Certainly. Do you have a researcher's card?"
The girl searched her bag placing a letter on official letterhead and the library card on the desk. "I have this."
The woman read over the letter which was written by Arthur giving her permission to use the card. Evelyn had found it stashed in-between the pages of the notebook she had borrowed from the Brit.
"Is there anything in particular you would like to see?" The woman had been polite before, but now her voice took on a new tone, one the girl couldn't place.
Evelyn hesitated. There was definitely something in particular she wanted to see, but it felt like prying, like she was looking into something personal and sticking her nose where it didn't belong. It was Arthur's secret and she should respect his privacy.
Then there was that other little voice in the back of her mind urging her on. It was the voice that always got her in trouble, but if she listened to it, she always found something new and exciting.
"I would like to see everything you have pertaining to the name Arthur Kirkland."
The woman read the note over again and examined the card. "Those records are in a restricted section. Follow me."
Evelyn accepted the card and note back stashing them in her bag as she followed the woman down into the lower levels of the archives; the girl was almost positive ordinary researchers had never seen the files she was about to see.
The woman led her into a room without any windows. Boxes were stacked high on either side of a small table illuminated by a singular light. Evelyn set her bag on the table, sneezing at the dust kicked up by the simple action, looking in some awe at the files.
"Please keep the files in order. I'll be back for you at closing if you aren't done sooner." The woman closed the door behind her leaving Evelyn among the boxes and papers.
This could be a more difficult task than she thought.
She opened the first box using the gloves provided in the room and began sorting through to find the papers concerning the Revolution. The musty smell from the old papers filled her sinuses and she had to stop often to clear them. Every sound she made echoed off the plain concrete walls, but she soon became absorbed in her work and the eerie environment no longer bothered her. As she searched, she scanned the files and her disbelief grew. It was just too much to take in. There were several mentions of the name Arthur Kirkland dating back through history alongside other familiar names—most notably Francis Bonnefoy and Matthew Williams.
What started as mere curiosity now turned into a minor obsession; a need to know about her temporary guardian and the other crazy people she had met. She spread the files out on the table and booted up her laptop.
Her mind worked furiously connecting the dots and unraveling the story. The more she found, the less she could believe it. She was finding names she knew; every single one a representative at the world meeting. It was impossible!
Wasn't it?
There was one name she didn't know though: Alfred Kirkland it said in the oldest files. Most of the material from the Revolution focused around him. There were letters, journals, photographs of portraits—his name was even on the Declaration of Independence!
So, who are you Alfred Kirkland? Evelyn mused.
Jones!
Evelyn, who had been slouching in her seat, sat straight up nearly dropping the old letter she had been examining. There was no one else down here so how could she hear a voice, distinctly not her own, saying a name she had only briefly glimpsed?
It was even stranger because Alfred Kirkland had just disappeared. After the signing of the Declaration, the name Kirkland was no longer mentioned except in relation to Arthur. In fact, there was no real mention of any Alfred again until the signing of the Articles of Confederation, but it was an Alfred F. Jones who signed that historic document. From that moment on, the files focused on that Alfred with no mention of the other and there was still no birth or death dates.
She shook her head to clear it running one hand through her dirty blonde hair. She was just tired. She hadn't slept well since who-knows-when and now she was paying for it in the form of phantom voices.
The American checked her watch; it was almost closing time. Right on cue, the woman from earlier opened the door. She took one look at the mess and sighed.
"Um, is there any way I can get copies of some pictures?" Evelyn asked mildly embarrassed by the scattered files.
"You can leave an address and file numbers with me and copies will be delivered to you within a few days," explained the exasperated woman.
"Thanks!" The girl quickly scribbled down her address and the file numbers she wanted copies of.
The woman took the paper scanning it quickly before motioning for Evelyn to leave.
Evelyn did running over the day's research in her head.
A/N: An update before school starts. I had such a problem with this chapter, but thank you loads to my beta for helping me. She is amazing and y'all should check out Rebuilding with Ruined Walls.
Oh, and for all of you wondering what happened to those cookies Evelyn made…Arthur's brothers invaded and ate them before he got any. Poor Artie.
Reviews are loved!