Disclaimer: So, I'm not dead, but I still don't own Hetalia.
Pain. Excruciating, agonizing, all-encompassing pain. Something was trying to tear its way out of her head, her heart. She was burning up from the inside out and then she would be freezing from the outside in all within seconds that felt like eternities. She couldn't see, couldn't feel anything but the mind-numbing pain. She tried to ask for someone—anyone!—to make it stop, but her body wouldn't obey.
Finally, it all just stopped. Evelyn floated in the nothingness panting flames searing through her chest with every breath. Where was she? She remembered Arthur (two Arthurs?) and then nothing.
Did I pass out?
That's the obvious answer. People weren't supposed to feel pain when they were unconscious; that's how you knew you were dreaming and you always woke from a nightmare before you felt the pain. She tried to move and, just like before, her body refused to listen. Evelyn huffed wincing when it aggravated the pain…everywhere. Right, not a dream, so then what?
Evelyn gingerly turned her head from side to side wincing as the movement pulled at already overly strained muscles. Her search was useless however as there was nothing to be found except more darkness. She huffed again in annoyance. The pain was a little less this time, but still incredibly noticeable. She grumbled to herself becoming increasingly irritable as she remained stuck in the nowhereness.
Without warning a jumble of colors and sounds washed over her, overwhelming her. It soon resolved into images, scenes from the past…memories. They flew by too fast for her to recognize. Snatches of sounds assaulted her ears—millions of voices all speaking, laughing, crying, screaming at once—she was drowning in it.
Then she began to scream.
Evelyn curled in on herself, hands over her ears and eyes closed, trying to block it all out. It didn't help. The images and sounds kept coming. Streams of people flowed past in varying costumes. Their mouths moved, but the sound was whipped away and lost among the cacophony.
Finally, the color and sound swirled together into one scene. She was standing in a jungle. The foliage was heavy from a recent rain; steam was already rising from every surface and it was becoming unbearable. She felt absolutely exhausted. Her shoulders ached as if carrying a heavy pack. Blurred humanoid shapes moved around her going through the mundane motions of preparing a meal.
Everything came into sharp detail. The men around her were wearing Army uniforms; weapons and boxes of ammunition lay around them within easy reach. Many were already eating from pre-packaged meals—K-rations she thought they were called—laughing and joking as they ate.
"Hey Jones! If you don't hurry up we're dividing up your share," one of them called.
He was talking to her though it was impossible. She was never in the jungle. She ignored them too busy listening to the surroundings. Something was wrong…besides the obvious. This wasn't her memory. She was having an episode only more severe than usual. Something was wrong in this place, this moment. Things were about to go sideways.
"Hey Golden Boy, are you—" A bullet caught him in the temple and he fell, dead.
Chaos erupted. The men grabbed their weapons as more bullets whizzed past. They ducked behind trees trying to put any obstruction between them and the enemy. Evelyn ran from cover to cover, firing around the trunks in the general direction enemy shots were coming from. She couldn't see them, but they certainly knew where she was at. A stray bullet ripped the rifle from her hands. More gunfire prevented her from picking it up again. Cursing, she crawled toward a clump of bushes using her sidearm to continue covering her retreating men.
She didn't even know how many were still alive.
Sitting up, she fired off the last couple shots from her pistol. A gun barrel pressed into her back, hot metal burning through the thin fabric of her uniform. Something was shouted at her in broken English and then the person fired. The bullet ripped through her heart eliciting a short, pained gasp before she crumpled like a ragdoll.
The same darkness from before met her. Her chest was on fire and it was hard to breathe. She tried to look to see if there was a gaping hole like she expected. It was too painful to move.
Shit that hurt.
Evelyn froze. There was that voice again. Who are you? She thought. It was too painful to talk.
Me? Who are you? Why are you in my head? Holy shit! Are you an alien like Tony? That would be cool except I don't really think you should in my head. It might confuse people…you know if I started talking to you and stuff.
The girl hadn't been expecting a response. She stayed silent for several moments trying to process the rambling of the other. For some reason, it just ticked her off.
Your head?! You're in my head and I'm not an alien! I'm Evelyn, Evelyn Summers. I'm an American college student who got kidnapped by a crazy Frenchman and is now mixed up with people who are countries and have a guy's voice inside my head. Yep, I'm officially crazy. Just have the nice men in white coats pick me up now.
You must be crazy of some sort considering you just told a random stranger a lot about yourself. But don't worry I'm the good guy, I'm a hero!
"Evelyn!" a voice screamed echoing in her head. "Evelyn Fucking Summers!"
Artie the voice in Evelyn's head spoke. Artie, I'm coming! Blinding white pain tore though her head as her body jerked upwards in the real world.
"Bran, Bran, get the car! Patrick, have A&E meet us at…" Arthur's voice called out.
"Artie..." Evelyn felt her own voice groan. Even though the back of Evelyn's mind tingled with the knowledge that she hadn't given her body the command.
"Evelyn," Arthur appeared in her vision, green emeralds wide with panic and his hands frozen in uncertainty.
"Artie," Evelyn's hand moved upwards towards Arthur's face touching his cheek. I love you, the other voice said in her head. The image of the weird car ride in Arthur's lap and other moments flew into Evelyn's head before she slammed that door shut and labeled it mentally with the word Sibling! in bold bright letters.
"Fuck no!" she screamed out pulling back from Arthur all together actually in control of her own body. Possess someone else for your gay love fantasy. Evelyn mentally screamed at the voice.
Ewww dude he's like my bro… The Voice responded almost like a child.
Arthur stared at her wide eyed, as Bran poked his head around the corner.
"I take it she's against hospitals then?" Bran questioned watching as Arthur slowly extended a hand back out to the girl who was now pulling at the hair on the top of her head.
"You can't say things like that!" she shouted suddenly.
"Patrick, don't make that call; get my magic book instead." Arthur called allowing his hand to touch the side of Evelyn's face and tilt it towards him.
"Make up your mind!" Patrick shouted from the other room.
"I've got the circle," Bran called all too happily running through the room behind Arthur.
"Evelyn? Are you with me?" Arthur asked softly trying to make eye contact.
"I'm sorry Artie," she spoke looking down at the ground. Something about her voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His nose twitched as he tried to figure out what it could be before he shook it off focusing on the girl.
"It's not your fault dear." He said distractedly still trying to get her to look at him.
"But it was! If I hadn't invaded..." For a second he thought he saw blue before Evelyn's hazel orbs met his."I've never been off the freaking North American continent!" She screamed at him. Arthur cocked an eyebrow and moved back slightly from her.
"Shut up I'm trying to do something here." The girl looked back down as her hands curled in frustration.
"Bran!" Arthur cried out in alarm and panic over how quickly Evelyn appeared to be losing to the curse/demon/otherworldly thing taking over her body.
"Coming!" Bran all but sang. Arthur suspected he wasn't coming anytime soon though...
"Artie, listen you got to believe me," Evelyn reached out to him and, grabbing at his shirt, sky blue eyes met Arthur's causing his heart to freeze.
"Shut yer yap!" Water smelling heavily of salt, cloves and lavender was dumped on Evelyn's head soaking the girl and the couch.
"Shit, that burns." She bit out through gritted teeth as she accidently inhaled some of the concoction.
"Patrick, get Arthur out of here! Bran, you got that circle done?" A red head stood still holding the flask of water he had poured on the girl. He grabbed her under the arms strong arming her into the dining room where Bran had drawn the circle.
Evelyn struggled against him cursing and spitting the water from her mouth. "Who dumps salt water on someone? It's in my eyes! That stings. That's like cruel and inhumane punishment! Innocent until proven guilty, ever fucking heard of it!" The girl was red faced and flaying in William's arms.
"Holy shite Arthur, this is a strong one. Haven't seen anything with this strength since America," said Scotland dragging the flailing girl. He had his pride and would not be defeated by a bonnie lass.
"That's because I..." A ball of garlic was shoved into Evelyn's mouth. Scotland cocked an eyebrow looking to Wales.
"It's all we had." He shrugged. "I figured that much garlic would work on anything." he smiled all too happy with this whole situation.
Evelyn found herself back in control of her limbs and, more importantly, her mouth as she tried to roll/spit the garlic ball out of her mouth.
"Whoa whoa little hell spawn, no cursing here," Scotland spoke up at the fierce mumbling from the girl. She was a lot easier to hold now; maybe he should use garlic balls against hell spawns more often. Though, he didn't really remember seeing anything on it before.
"I thought we were supposed to be nice to girls," Patrick spoke from the corner as the redhead shoved her into the chair in the middle of the circle.
"Girls yes, hell spawns no." Bran spoke coming out of the kitchen with zip ties.
"What about girl hell spawns?" Patrick asked as he titled his head curiously to the side. The other two brothers stopped moving cocking their heads identically to the side as they looked at the youngest.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Arthur?" Scotland questioned. In the space of time it took Patrick to ask his question, Evelyn had sucked up her courage and bitten down hard on the ball breaking off pieces enough to spit the ball out.
She wiggled like an eel in the tall man's arms managing to get a hold of his crimson bangs pulling and clawing at his face. "When I get through with you no girl will look twice at you!" she screamed.
"Let go!" Scotland barked trying to tug the girl off all the while not dropping her. Bran moved to save his eldest sibling, but took a foot to the stomach before water hit them all.
"Enough!" Arthur cried with all the power an ex-empire/single parent to a slew of children could muster while holding the sprayer from the sink.
"Artie, make him stop." Evelyn whined still yanking at Scotland's hair with all her might despite her pathetic take-pity-on-me voice.
"Release her." Arthur growled eyes turning acidic, but of course this was his brothers... Scotland dropped the girl straight to the ground sacrificing some of his hair and letting her fall on her rear. In a flash, Bran was throwing rock salt on her.
"Demons begone!" he shouted like he had seen in America's corny movies.
"I'll show you a demon!" Evelyn screamed going to her feet only to take water to the face.
"In the corner," Arthur called. Scotland snickered. "All of you." Bran turned to look at his twin only to get squirted in the face. "Now."
Evelyn stared at him incredulous. "You're punishing me? I'm the victim here!" her voice raised with her disbelief.
Arthur forced himself to meet her gaze. Her hazel eyes were now rimmed in brilliant blue and her eyes were watering—most likely from the garlic. He squirted her in face again.
"Move it!" He wasn't sure what was going on, but until he did, no one was receiving special treatment.
There was grumbling and threatening of leaving the union and Arthur settled for the table instead of the corners of the kitchen.
Evelyn used a tea towel to dry her hair as she mentally complained about the smell of the Scot's mixture.
That's not as bad as the garlic. Dude, that was just nasty! Who does that to people?
"So, this is the lass Franny was talking about?" Scotland said at the same time as the voice.
"Oh, shut up!" Evelyn snapped still absolutely pissed at the voice in her head and the way she had been treated. Scotland, who she learned was named William, leveled a glare at her. "Not you!" she gave him a wide eyed look before it hardened. "No, you I want to shut up and leave me the hell alone." Her eyes lit up in anger and she crossed her arms while tilting her head. "He doesn't have to be quiet. Gah!" The girl hit her head on the table and stayed there muttering angrily. Scotland scooted away. Female hell spawns…this was going to be bad.
"When did we start an asylum?" Bran asked poking at the top of her head. She slapped his hand away.
"It wasn't this bad before!" The American tried to defend herself. "And who the hell immediately jumps to demon possession? This isn't Supernatural." She glared at Bran. She was going to have this stuff in her hair forever.
"Of course it isn't." Bran moved one hand to his chest before giving her a patronizing look. "They get some things wrong; we don't." The Welshman finished entirely serious.
"So, did we get it?" Patrick asked all smiles and excitement. "The demon I mean."
Evelyn hit her head on the table again as William laughed. "Aye lad. It's a tricky business exorcising a woman. It could be the demon talking or the angry woman. And she-devils make it trickier." He didn't add his theory that the girl just might be a hell spawn and not actually possessed.
"Then how do you tell the difference between a girl hell spawn and a boy hell spawn?"
"Well laddy," Scotland began. "A girl has ti..." Arthur smacked him on the back of the head.
Evelyn raised her head just enough to give Patrick an are-you-serious look. "You were dropped on your head as a kid weren't you?"
This caused Scotland to only laugh harder doubling over when it became hard to breathe. Patrick opened his mouth to retort, but it was drowned out by the Voice.
Everyone says I was, but I think I turned out fine.
"You call this fine?" Evelyn quipped. The boys looked at her wide eyed. They had been talking about how Arthur wouldn't let anyone hold Patrick for the first five weeks...
Patrick look confused. "I never said it was."
"I'm not talking to you!" she snarled at him causing his eyes to go wide.
"Then who are you talking to?!" Bran asked shit eating smile on his face.
"It! Him! The Voice! I don't know what to call it…"
"Male hell spawn." Patrick and William spoke nodding at each other even though the latter still had doubts about its gender.
Arthur slammed his hands on the table. "Enough!" All of this was starting to give him a pounding headache. "Okay, Evelyn, tell me what's going on." he rubbed his temple giving his brothers a shut up look.
She tried, but there was that feeling of losing control again and her mouth was saying words she didn't tell it to say.
"Dude, it's the weirdest thing ever. The last thing I remember is being in the jungle and I got shot and when I woke up, there was this girl…" her mouth spoke on its own.
She managed to wrest back control digging her nails into her palm to hopefully keep herself in control. "Artie, there's this voice—a guy's voice—and it, he?, seems to know you and I think all those things I keep seeing actually belong to hi—" Evelyn waved her hands frantically as she spoke.
"Hey, I was talking!" Voice fought back slamming Evelyn's hands on the table.
"Oh my God! It's my body so just shut the hell up and go away!" She looked to the Englishman pleading. "Artie!"
Arthur looked to his eldest brother and twin. Bran was subtlety inching away; Patrick wasn't being as discrete. Scotland, however, had lit a cigarette and was looking at her thoughtfully.
"Have you seen something like this before?" The younger brother asked.
"Not with nations. It certainly sounds like the brat though."
Evelyn slapped her hand on the table startling the others. "That's the other thing! I mean why I'm actually here. The Three Idioteeers told me how you're all representatives, but not like normal representatives; you're the nation itself, a personification. I found all this stuff in the archives—portraits, documents—there were pages taken from the journals of the Founding Fathers and you and Francis were mentioned along with some of the others, but there was one name (well, two) that popped up more than any other: Alfred."
Arthur sucked in a breath. He looked about ready to bolt. The others tensed up as well. The presence now sharing her mind seemed to flinch guiltily. She had hit a sore spot.
She continued anyway. "The early records have his name as Alfred Kirkland, but after the Revolution, he shows up as—"
"Alfred Franklin Jones."
She recognized that tone. That was the you're-in-trouble tone only parents used. The Voice recognized it too. She could feel it retreating further back in her mind.
"Alfred Franklin Jones, if that's you, answer me right this fucking second!" Arthur was standing again hands and feet firmly planted leveling a stare at her that promised all sorts of unpleasant things if he received the wrong answer.
Evelyn shoved the voice forward. She was not getting yelled at for him. This Arthur reminded her too much of the one she had seen in the attic and that one nearly killed her with an antique sword.
"Hey Artie. Long time, no see." Her hand waved half-heartedly.
Arthur sank back into his seat visibly shaken. "How? You were dead."
"But I'm not dead. I'm right here!" His hands smacked his chest... her boobs and she growled at him mentally. "Sort of…" He paused, his hand jumping away, thinking. "Look, I don't know how it happened. I'm sorry, Artie. I should've never gone." Blue eyes pleaded with him.
Arthur took a deep breath running a hand through his hair and down his face. He didn't say anything, but turned on his heel and, with his shoulders too impossibly stiff, walked away.
A/N: You don't know how many times I scrapped and rewrote this chapter and I'm still not happy with it. My awesome beta FallenSnow helped me write this one (the exorcism scene was entirely her; neither one of us knows why Bran is such a shit though).
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed, etc. Your encouragement keeps me writing. I do plan on finishing this story. It just might take me a while with school and everything. Please be patient with me and I promise to keep writing. Danke!
Reviews are loved and make me insanely happy!