Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Hetalia.
"Happy New Years, Mattie!" Canada sighed, and rubbed his bleary eyes before turning to the small clock on his desk, phone clenched in one hand.
"Al. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
The response was so typically America: oblivious. "Midnight, obviously! 2013, WOOOOO!" There were similar shouts in the background, obviously from the New Year's party he was at—and there was only one place he could be at this point.
"You're in Vegas, dumbass." He pinched the bridge of his nose; it was too late for this, he had been curled up in bed, fast asleep…and now his idiot brother comes along and interrupts his first good sleep in months! "I'm in Quebec."
There was a long pause on the other end. "Mattie, you never swear at me. Is everything ok?"
"Time zone difference you idiot!" He roared into the phone. "IT'S 3 IN THE MORNING!"
There was another longer pause. "So…you're in the same time zone as New York?"
Canada felt a migraine coming on—it was way too late to be dealing with this idiot. "Yes. Do you remember? We—as in the two of us—celebrated in New York. Then I went home—wait a minute, what are you doing in Vegas?"
"Oh, well…I've been flying my jet back an hour every time so I can celebrate more! First NYC, then Chicago, then I went somewhere in Colorado, and now I'm here in Vegas!" He sounded so ridiculously proud of himself that Canada knew that he couldn't spend another minute on the phone without exploding.
"I'm going back to bed. Next time you call, it better be an emergency." Then he slammed the phone back onto its cradle (unintentionally cracking it) before rolling back over to get some sleep.
~OSH~
"…he hung up on me." America stared curiously at the phone, before sighing and putting it back, curling his bare feet around the circle at the bottom of the bar stool. Lauren, the owner of the bar they were in, reached over and patted his arm. She had kind brown eyes and curly blonde hair, with a toothy smile.
"It's okay, baby. Maybe you should've thought before you called your bro in the middle of the night, though." She smiled comfortingly at him, and then sent the evil eye at a couple girls over his shoulder—obviously with the intent to flirt with the nation. She was a bit overprotective of the oblivious idiot. It was probably because he had no idea what he did to hormonal teenaged girls.
"Ah well. I guess I can't blame him." He smiled and shrugged, before sliding off the seat, leaving her comforting touch hovering awkwardly in the air. "I'm going to go outside and get some air, okay? It's a little stuffy in here." The place had originally been warm and cozy, but now he just felt cramped and stuffed. There was something that was telling him to get outside and enjoy the stars.
"You'll be alright by yourself, Al?" Lauren shifted, and then sent the girls another evil look, which sent them scurrying back to their table again.
He smiled half-heartedly—for some reason, he wanted…no, needed to get outside. It was calling him, pressing him… "I'm good. I just need a little fresh air."
She took in his pale face, his suddenly dull eyes...he had been enjoying himself so much only minutes ago, but now it seemed as though he was going to be ill. Lauren smiled unsurely back, realizing that Al probably did need a minute or two in the open air…there was a sudden sense of foreboding, like she shouldn't be sending him out there. But Al had beaten off some perverts several times his size many times… "Alright. Don't go too far, ok?"
He nodded, before practically bolting for the door. Lauren watched him go, and couldn't help feeling as though she had just made a terrible mistake…
~OSH~
America pulled his coat tighter around him; not that it was very cold, but…for some reason, he was shivering. Maybe he was getting sick—even the thought of the fiscal cliff made him feel nauseous. He shuffled his feet, staring into the sky—he had driven himself into the nearby national park, so there wasn't as much light pollution. He then had wandered aimlessly through the area, simply enjoying the scenery—if he was a normal human, he would have been lost, but as it was…he knew every crack, every crevice of this country. There was no possible way America could get lost.
He didn't feel bad that he had broken his promise not to go too far—no, he felt as though he needed to be here, there was something pulling him to this spot, deep in his gut—
An enormous shadow suddenly covered the ground—the wind ruffled his head, almost knocking him over—he dove towards the dirt, breath quickening. For some reason, he knew that this was what had called him here…
After a second America jumped to his feet, staring at the giant thing that had just landed gently almost a hundred yards from him. It was about the size of a small building; it was a metallic grey color, and shaped like a ball. There were no marks on it, no signs of construction—he didn't have a clue what it was.
It obviously wasn't something he had made, and he didn't think that it was anything the others had made…no, it looked almost…alien.
America wasn't sure whether to approach the strange metallic ball or to run—but then his foot took a step forwards, completely without his permission. In surprise, he pulled back, staring in confusion at the offending appendage, and then looked back up at the craft in alarm.
Obviously he had made a terrible mistake. One thought filled his brain—run and call for help. For a second he wondered if this counted as an emergency, before deciding that he didn't care. His hand dove into his pocket, and he turned to run—
Turned to run—
Turned to—
He couldn't do it. He couldn't turn and run.
America's eyes widened in horror as he realized that his feet had somehow been trapped to the ground—it was taking everything in his willpower not to take a step towards the metallic ball. In fact, his entire body felt as though it was being pulled towards it—slowly he managed to take the phone out of his pocket, slowly pulling it up so he could see it…
Thank God for speed dial.
The phone rang, and he gritted his teeth as he forced the phone towards his ear—and forced himself not to move towards the strange object. The call was getting more insistent—whoever or whatever it was inside was getting impatient.
One ring, two, three—for a second, America was terrified Canada wouldn't pick up.
"What? Who is it?"
He sighed in relief at the sound of his brother's voice, and then managed to choke out a response. "H-Hey, M-Mat."
"America." Canada growled, sleep curling at the edges of his voice. "What did I say?"
"This counts." He gasped out, and then let out a choked noise as his leg finally moved him a step forwards.
The voice suddenly became alert and alarmed, after Canada heard the noise his brother had made. "America? What's going on? Are you alright?"
"S-Something landed…" He sucked in a tight breath, closing his eyes. "I-It's…calling…t-too…loud…" When America eyes opened again, he realized that the smooth surface of the metallic ball was inches from his face—had he moved, or had it moved? He didn't know. He didn't care anymore. It was already too late for him.
"What do you mean, America? America!" He could hear muted movements in the background as Canada lunged out of bed, scrambling to his feet. "Say something!"
America stared at the outside of the machine—for some reason, it had stopped pulling him, but he still couldn't move. "I think…" He knew he should be panicking, but for some reason he just felt this terrible sense of familiarity. "G-Goodbye, bro."
Then the ball opened up and wrapped its metallic arms around his body, pulling him inside. Then, it and its contents vanished without a trace.
The only evidence that anything had happened was the phone on the ground, still in the middle of a call between a ghost and a frantic brother.
The next morning
"He said he needed some fresh air…and then he just left?"
Lauren nodded tearfully. "I thought…Alfred would be able to take care of himself! I told him not to go too far. He's very strong…but…" She let out a choked sob, and then continued in a softer tone. "I got…this weird feeling. Like…something bad was going to happen…it got worse…and then I suddenly got very scared, for no reason whatsoever. Like I was suddenly unsafe, unprotected…" She bit her lip. "After I got that feeling, everyone left very quickly."
Canada and England glanced at each other, feeling a bit nervous. They both realized that this was more than just a simple vanishing act—every American they'd spoken to said that they got this odd feeling, like they were exposed. One who seemed particularly thoughtful had mentioned that they hadn't noticed that they'd felt safe in the first place until it the feeling had. The thought of a country without a human to represent them sounded preposterous, though. Even if they were fatally wounded, they would eventually heal on their own. It was just how things went.
The thought of a nation dying for no reason was…almost scary. It gave them a sudden look at their 'immortality'—were they as indestructible as they thought they were?
"Thank you, Miss Lauren. This will help greatly with our investigation." England tucked his pen behind his ear and closed his notebook with a snap, then gestured for an exhausted Canada to follow him.
She suddenly reached forwards and touched Canada's shoulder before he could get up. "I hope you find your brother. I'm so sorry about what's happened."
He stared at her for a second, then nodded and gave her a tight smile. "Yeah…I hope we do too. Thank you."
Then he got up and left the bar, and found England standing on the porch, staring into the clear blue sky.
"His car isn't here."
England looked in surprise at Canada, obviously having been deep in thought. The Englishman had flown to America as soon as he had heard what had happened—they were keeping the disappearance quiet for now, until they could figure out what had happened. There was no need to tip off the other countries of America's vulnerable state.
"What do you mean?" The Englishman snorted, and turned to face him fully. "He doesn't live in Vegas; he doesn't have a car—"
"Yeah, he does." Canada walked past him, and England followed him without question. "He has homes everywhere. New York, DC, Florida, Texas, Illinois…Las Vegas." They stopped next to their rental car. "He keeps a car everywhere, too. That car? It's his favorite car. He won it at a casino. And it's not here."
England watched him steadily over the top of the vehicle. "Then he could have been anywhere—could be anywhere."
Canada leaned against on the grey surface, grinning slightly. "We're in Las Vegas. There's only one place you can get any fresh air nearby."
"Where?"
Canada dropped into the driver's seat, waiting for England to follow before saying, "The Desert National Wildlife Range."
~OSH~
They found America's car...and they also found Tony, America's alien friend. He was half in, half outside the vehicle, and was fiddling with something under the dashboard. Canada hadn't thought about the young alien in a while, and opened his mouth to call out to the alien—maybe he could help with the investigation.
England however, did something entirely different. Normally he didn't mind the alien, but seeing him there, right after America had vanished…after all, Tony was from an alien world. They didn't quite know where his loyalties lay…well, it was understandable what England did next.
One second he was staring at the alien, the next he in front of the car, yanking out the creature and slamming him against smooth surface of the door.
"Where is he?" England hissed, so close to Tony's wide red eyes he could see the tiny shapes that made up the entire thing. Sort of like a fly, he mused in the back of his feverishly raged mind.
"England!" Canada's alarmed voice shouted, and a hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. With a growl England shrugged off the grip, fully intent on getting the truth from this being. "Calm down, England!"
"He knows something. Why else would he be digging around in America's car? He's an alien. Killing friends might be an integral part of their culture." It was the anger that was speaking, and Tony the alien seemed to realize this.
The little grey alien winced and wiggled his neck under England's taut arm. "Let me go, fucking limey. Use your tiny human brain for once."
His grip tightened for a second, before common sense took hold—he was jumping to conclusions too fast. He loosened his arm slightly, trying to think around his rage—Tony and Canada were right, he was too angry right now, he needed to take a second to breathe…still, though, he didn't let go. The sight was too suspicious to let go unquestioned. After several minutes to regain control of himself, England spat out, "Talk to him, Canada." He didn't trust himself to speak.
Canada meekly stepped in. "What were you doing in America's car?"
"It's complicated."
England twitched. "Try us." It came out as a low growl.
Tony glared at the two of them, though he seemed especially wary of England—no one wondered why that was. "I was getting something from the car. I stored a tracking device in there in case I ever lost America." He hesitated, and then added reluctantly, "They're in every one of his cars."
England's brow furrowed in confusion. "You expected something like this to happen?"
The little alien rolled his eyes—well, at least they thought he did. It was a little hard to tell. "I told you, it's complicated. Now let me go so we can talk about this like fucking gentlemen."
England gave him one last mistrustful look, before removing his hands from Tony's neck entirely. The alien dropped to the ground, rubbing his neck and coughing. Canada couldn't help but feel a little bad about that, and offered a quiet, "Sorry." Even though it wasn't his fault.
"Next time control your fucking limey so he doesn't try to strangle me." Though he sounded a little sharp, he waved his hand, as though brushing off the apology. Canada acknowledged this gratefully as Tony sat cross-legged on the ground. "Well, come on. Sit down. We don't have all day."
Canada plopped onto the ground willingly enough, but England remained standing, face contorted in a snarl. "How can we trust anything you have to say?"
Tony shrugged. "Do you even have a choice?"
England conceded defeat, and slowly dropped into a graceful sitting position next to Canada.
After they had settled in front of Tony, the little alien took something out of the belt around his waist, and placed it on the ground. It was a flat metallic disk, with no markings on it. For a second Tony hesitated—"What was the password again?"—before making some sort of sign on the top of the disk. There was an anticlimactic moment when nothing happened— but then Canada and England gasped when the metal began flowing like quicksilver off the top of the strange disk, and something that looked a bit like a lens formed on the top of the metallic surface. A second later, a perfect replication of the earth appeared in the air in front of them, beautifully detailed for being so tiny. Canada and England gasped again at the sight of it. The little disk was obviously some sort of projector.
Tony let them stare at the small device for a few minutes—they had never seen this sort of technology before, after all—before asking, "You know who you are…but have you ever considered what you are?"
Canada and England glanced at each other, confused. "We're…countries?" England answered unsurely, and Canada shrugged, though a thoughtful expression overtook his face. "We've never really thought about it."
Tony sighed and shook his head. "Great. I have to explain this. Get comfortable, because this is going to take a while." He pinched his fingers over the light projection of the earth, and then seemed the throw it—and then the solar system appeared, and the earth and all the other planets were much smaller so as to fit the image all in one place. Then he pinched the sun, and flicked that—and the galaxy appeared—and again he pinched and flicked, and there were many galaxies¸ all floating around in the projection.
"That's beautiful." Canada murmured, eyes lighting up with childish delight; England couldn't help but agree.
"Yeah." Tony sounded very proud, before continuing to speak. "A little background information first. And pay attention, because I'm not explaining this twice. And no asking questions till the end." He glared at the nations, before starting. "This is your quadrant. You're quadrant makes up another quadrant, which makes up another quadrant… I know you idiots don't know this because you haven't traveled outside of your galaxy, but a lot of us have. And this is our quadrant...I live nearby. You have three inhabited planets in your galaxy…" Tony pointed towards the tiny picture of the Milky Way, before turning to another galaxy very close by. "This is the Andromeda galaxy. It's not actually called the Andromeda galaxy; everything will just be one hundred percent easier if we refer to things as human terms." He glared at the two of them, perhaps for their ignorance. "This is where I come from. I share this galaxy with four other species, one of which is important in our story. But they're for later." He pointed to one other galaxy that was sort of close by, but not as close as the Andromeda.
"This is where the story starts. The Triangulum galaxy, sometimes referred to as the Pinwheel galaxy. Five inhabited planets, though it used to be six." Tony grabbed the tiny galaxy between his fingers, and tugged out with both hands. Instantly the galaxy filled the air. He reached into one of the arms of the structure and tugged, and kept doing so until they had reached a small solar system, not unlike their own. There were four planets, one of which was a gas giant. "This is a deserted solar system, though it used to be filled with life and promise. The Natnotic people used to live on this planet…" He grabbed one of the rocky planets and tugged on its edges so it filled up the screen. It was blackened and deserted; there appeared to be no life on it. Tony reached forwards and gently began flicking with his finger, so the planet began turning backwards, faster and faster…and then life began appearing. Purples and a peculiar red color began covering the surface, with some blues. It was obvious that this was what the planet had looked like before it had been desecrated. England and Canada shuffled closer to get a better look.
"This is the planet Natnotica, as it was centuries ago…" Tony stroked his chin, staring at the planet with almost a wistful expression on his face. "It was a beautiful planet, with much life and laughter. The people were peaceful, because they all shared a telepathic connection with each other. They all understood each other; peace reigned for thousands of years…" He sighed. "But then Regisek came." He spat the name with such vehemence the two nations recoiled.
"This violent race comes from my galaxy; we have spent millennia beating them off of our planet. They look for conquest; they look for other planets to settle. Then after the leader does the dirty work and destroys a planet, usually a crew member will kill the leader and take control. It's a cutthroat bunch, and I hope you never meet them.
"The Regisek came to Natnotica, and saw the race it held…they were tall and strong. If the Natnotican people ever put their minds to war, they would decimate the galaxies, because of their unity and their unnatural strength and intelligence. The only reason the Regisek won was because the Natnotic people had no defense—they had never fought battle, and had never considered extraterrestrial attacks. War was a foreign concept in itself to them. Needless to say, they were easily taken over.
"However through the telepathic connection, word managed to get out—and the Natnotic people—well, they're pretty good at making spaceships, but they never really considered going outside of their own solar system…they managed to fill several escape ships and send them off world, in the hopes that the survivors would survive and liberate them.
"It did not work. While the Natnotic people still on the planet were enslaved and tortured, beaten and persecuted, the escaped refugees all slowly died out, until only one ship survived. Slowly all the people on that ship died, too, until there was only one Natnotican left. His name was Pan. Exhausted and dying, and on the run from Regisek ships, Pan hid from them in a solar system in the Milky Way galaxy…and then crash landed onto a planet, one you are very familiar with."
Tony pinched Natnotic, and flung it away—and then the earth appeared, in all its glory.
England was the first to make the connection—his eyes widened suddenly, and his fingers clenched the ground. "Pangaea."
"Very good." Tony nodded, while Canada's mouth dropped in shock. "The Natnotic people take their strength from the land, and the people's health—telepathic connection and all. They're almost immortal, and have quick healing. Pan was invigorated by the large continent he had landed on…he took the form of a large dinosaur." Tony's mouth twitched into a smile. "When Pangaea split, Pan didn't have another option—he was split in many pieces as well, one for each continent. He wrote down his history, of course, but the many pieces of him forgot it, and eventually the past was lost to nature. The pieces of Pan still recalled some bits, though—Natnotica became 'Nation'. Pan became 'Pangaea'. But still, most of the history was lost…
"When humans became the dominant species, Pan's many pieces—which numbered in the hundreds by now—took the form of them. When new borders and new thoughts formed, Pan's pieces formed to their ideals—into them. A representative of the people. As nations fell, pieces of Pan were either absorbed into another, or the piece was reformed as another nation."
The two countries stared at Tony with wide eyes, mouths dropped. Their expressions were very similar—extreme shock. He smiled wryly at them.
"Congratulations, guys, I'm not the only alien on this planet."
America woke when someone splashed cold water on his face.
He jerked violently, sputtering in shock as the liquid jolted him out of his sleep. "What the hell?" He howled, rubbing his eyes while simultaneously trying to hear the laughter of whoever had done that. "I swear to God, whichever punkass did that is going—"
And then the water was alive, and electricity was flowing through him—barely enough to hurt, mostly just to shock. His eyes snapped open as he was about to let loose on whoever would do that sort of thing to the sleeping nation, but then he stopped dead in his tracks.
He was…on a floor, in a room, one wrist chained to the wall. He looked up to see an opening in the ceiling slide shut—obviously where the water had come from. His eyes hovered curiously over where the opening had been—there were no seams, nothing to show where the water had come from. Puzzled, he let his eyes wander.
The room was quite strange in itself—it was completely smooth, no signs of it being built, almost as though it had been sewn out of metal itself…it was strangely familiar, this design—
The metal ball. Last night…getting swallowed up by the mechanical thing, blacking out—
Where am I?
He slowly got to his feet—luckily he was still wearing his clothes—and began examining the surrounding area with curious and slightly scared eyes. His eyes darted downwards when he heard a soft jangling noise, which turned out to be a metal chain connecting him to the wall, also made out of that odd material. His anxiety deepened as he stared at the restraints.
Was something…supernatural going on? Or maybe something extraterrestrial? He didn't know—though if it was alien, he knew that Tony would probably bail him out. Maybe I did something to offend the Galaxy Police. He though, brightening to the idea. That would be so cool.
Then the metal off to his left parted, giving entrance to whoever was entering. It formed a circular door, and three people—obviously aliens—entered, and stood in front of him. The door closed quietly behind them, never making a noise.
America couldn't help but stare at them—and they stared at him in turn. They were all the same species—he assumed, anyway—all smooth skinned, no blemishes of any sort, their heads shaped a bit like bricks, color bright green. Their eyes were on the sides of their heads, and they appeared to be glaring at him, though it wasn't very intimidating since their black eyes were kind of tiny, and they had no eyebrows. They were quite tall, with impossibly long legs and short torsos, with long arms and spindly, thin fingers.
The one on the end was dressed in what appeared to be a skirt and a thick fluffy jacket—America would have assumed that it was a girl, except that once he had laughed at Scotland for wearing a kilt, and he had gotten the crap beaten out of him—and it was wearing what seemed to be leather boots.
The one in the middle had something that looked like a scar across the front of its brick-like face, and was 'glaring' the hardest at him. It was dressed in loose-fitting pants and a leather tank top, with something that oddly resembled moccasins on its feet. It also had a thick black belt and something that vaguely looked like a gun, though it was hard for America to tell.
The last one was the shortest, and it also looked the weakest. It was looking nervously at America, then at the one in the middle, then at the floor. In its hand it held some sort of device—a recorder? Something to write on? It was wearing a long black lab coat and a purple body suit, and it's feet were bare.
"Natnotican."
America's head jolted towards the one in the middle, staring at it with wide eyes. It didn't appear to have a mouth…how had it spoken? And what had it just called him?
"Do you understand us, Natnotican?" It growled at him, putting one hand on its gun-like thing. America quietly labeled it a male—it sounded like one, and acted like one as well.
"Um." He responded intelligently, still in shock.
"Inability to understand words." The middle one turned to the one in the lab coat, who cowered under his gaze. "Write it down."
"H-Hey!" America shouted, a little shocked at the treatment—weren't the two of them the same species? He was so cruel!
The three of them froze in shock, and then the one in a skirt let out a loud bark…laughter? "Look at that, Kazhok. It does understand." It sounded female, so America silently labeled it a girl.
"That's impossible. That was a fluke." The one called 'Kazhok' whipped out the gun and placed it on America's nose. "It's a stupid Natnotican. It doesn't understand anything. I'll bet it doesn't know I could kill it right now if I wanted to."
"D-don't you think that that's a little unfair?" America winced at the feeling—the weapon almost had the consistency of a liquid. Maybe if he tried to be polite the alien would stop being so antagonistic? "And please get that out of my face. I know what that is."
Even the one in the skirt jumped in shock this time—they simply stared at him for several seconds, as though mentally analyzing him. Then the little one in the lab coat let out what sounded like a squeak, and began talking towards the device in its hand. America couldn't decide what gender it was—it's voice was squeaky and pitchless, and it's actions suggested either male or female.
"Not only does it understand fluently…" It hissed excitedly, "It speaks fluently. Also has an awareness of its surroundings, and is able to form arguments. Understands weapons, though shows an ignorance towards social standing. Obviously some sort of intelligence. Perhaps the former confusion was because the creature was in a state of shock…? Requires more observations." It brushed its finger across the surface of the device and then clutched the machine closer, looking quite pleased with itself.
The minute the one in the lab coat finished, Kazhok turned to the alien in the skirt. "One more word Marzha, and I will shoot you."
She gave the air of being…amused? Before speaking. "Of course, Kazhok."
"Listen…sorry for interrupting, but why am I here?" America interjected them, as politely as he could. They glanced up at him, and America thought that if they had eyelids they would be blinking them in surprise at him. "See, it's common courtesy on our planet to tell a person why they're being carted away before being carted away."
Marzha reached out a hand to stop Kazhok before he could turn and respond to America's question. "Let me speak, Kazhok." Then she slowly approached America, as though he were a wild, dangerous animal. "How did you escape from the Regisek?"
He stared at her blankly. "The what?"
She hesitated, before continuing. "I don't know what you call them on your planet, but they were the ones that enslaved your people and forced you to escape so long ago. Surely you remember them…?"
There was a sudden pounding in his head. He rubbed his temples quietly, wincing minutely at the feeling, before responding. "I…don't know what you're talking about."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Marzha cried incredulously, turning to look at Kazhok and the little alien. "Sahzek, you swore that you had found one of the last Natnotican people!"
His headache suddenly increased, pressing into his head, sending a painful pounding throughout him.
Sahzek was staring at America with a bewildered expression on his face. "The scanner says that he is most definitely one of them…" He checked his scanner again, then looked back up—and promptly did a double take. "…oh."
"Don't tell me you made a mistake, Sahzek." Kazhok whipped around and placed the gun at the base of Sahzek's neck. "If you did I will—"
The little scientist began trembling violently, long spindly fingers held up in an expression of surrender. "No mistakes, Lord Kazhok! He is—he is one part of a whole! There are obviously more of them, down on that planet down there—earth! We must retrieve all of them if we want to get the last Natnotican!"
Kazhok growled, and pressed the gun closer. "Why didn't you know at first?"
America's eyes narrowed; even if this 'Kazhok' guy was a lord, he should treat his subordinates better! Unbeknownst to the others in the room, Kazhok had just activated America's 'big-must-protect-weak' mode. He puffed out his chest, stuck out his chin, and marched over to Kazhok and Sahzek. Marzha stared at him curiously as he passed, but did nothing to stop him. America lifted Kazhok into the air by the back of his neck and gently plucked the gun out of his hand, and then handed it to Marzha, who fumbled and nearly dropped it bemusedly. Then he deposited Kazhok in an ungraceful heap on the floor, ignoring Sahzek's frightened squeals. "Hey! Dude! Back off, he didn't do anything wrong!"
"Y-You dare?" Kazhok spat, completely ignoring America's words completely. He seemed so angry that he could barely form actual words. "You dare touch a Lord? I am Lord Kazhok, the most famous trader in all the quadrants! You dare manhandle me?!"
"First you claim I'm some sort of alien, which I'm not." Pleased that he had made that point clear, America moved on, snorting and folding his arms, ignoring the quiet rattle of his chains. "All I see is a big asshole picking on some weak looking guy. Just because you have power doesn't mean you should use it to be cruel to others!" Oh yeah, he was really in his righteous mode.
"Marzha, give me my gun. I don't care about the money; this trash has gone too far!" Kazhok was glaring at America, who stared defiantly back.
"I don't know, Kazhok, he's kind of funny. Besides, you weren't being very nice to Sahzek." She stroked the gun thoughtfully, obviously having no intention of giving it back to him. "And you might not care about the money, but I do." Her voice became cold and unforgiving. "I will not let your pride get in the way of my pay. He and the other parts of the last Natnotican will be delivered to the Regisek for full price, whether I have to shoot you or no." She knelt down and grabbed Kazhok's collar, putting her brick face up to his. "Remember Kazhok, you may be the Trading Lord…but I am a Lady. We don't play by the same rules." Then she dropped the stunned alien, and rose to her feet. "Sahzek, tag it and prepare to land on the planet to collect the rest of them. Do you understand?"
The little scientist shivered and nodded, while America stared at her in surprise—her personality had just done a complete 180. He had never considered that alien women would be just as confusing as human women.
Then, she turned back to the wall—the door formed in front of her—and Marzha left. Kazhok scrambled to his feet, glared at America, then followed her. Finally only Sahzek and America were left—they glanced at each other, before America finally spoke.
"Well. That was interesting."
Tony's ship was hovering a few feet above the desert, the countries inside curled uncomfortably against the walls; they couldn't even stand the ceiling was so short. To make it worse, Tony wouldn't shut up.
"The minute I met your brother I knew what he was." Tony was fiddling with something that appeared to be a pair of glasses, though it looked a little more high tech than that. They were in Tony's spaceship, which was disk shaped and appeared to be cluttered with all sorts of alien equipment. Canada and England were still quite shocked, though they had shaken off most of their surprise. After all, they had to rescue America. "There was residual telepathic energy all over him, and there's only one species that could give off that much. I eventually realized, though, that he was actually not a whole Natnotican—just one piece. After getting the scoop from the local nomad who lived on Mars—" England and Canada twitched. "—I finally figured out what had happened. And I knew…I had to protect him, keep him safe from the people that would undoubtedly come."
"Is he going to be ok?" Canada couldn't help but interrupt weakly, trying not to feel hurt by the fact Tony had only resolved to protect one of them and not all of them.
Tony looked up at him, surprised. "Oh, I didn't tell you? The tracker says he got nabbed by Lord Kazhok's ship—they trade alien species, and are considered to be the best of the best. They use telepathic signals to manipulate the nervous system, so they never have to fight anything." He put the glasses in front of his two red eyes, and then muttered something about tiny human vision before setting them down on the ground.
"Is he going to be okay?" Canada asked, alarm clear in his voice.
"Yeah, he should be fine. I equipped a translator in his head on his birthday, so he can get around alien languages pretty well." Tony nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied.
England and Canada glanced unsurely at each other, before England asked, "Are…we going to get him?" the same time Canada muttered almost inaudibly, "In his head?"
Tony glanced up at them again, this time more annoyed than anything else—though he completely ignored Canada's question. "What do you think I've been doing?" He shook his head and sighed loudly. "America is just one piece of the whole puzzle. They're going to come back for the rest of you—just one piece of a Natnotican isn't worth much. The Regisek want the whole thing. I'm making some glasses for you guys so you'll be able to see the doors, which should make escaping infinitely easier."
Again, the two clueless nations glanced at each other. "Doors?" England prompted weakly.
Tony twitched, turned to them, and said in a low, derisive hiss, "Doors. You can't see the doors. I'm making you something so you can seethe doors. Do you understand, fucking limey?"
England winced and nodded. There was a long second of silence…and then Tony suddenly turned to Canada and growled, "Say 'like in a secret agent movie'."
Bewildered, he glanced at England, who shrugged back.
"Just say it!" Tony's voice became more insistent—Canada stared at the little alien in surprise, before saying,
"Just like in a secret agent movie…?"
Tony didn't seem to mind that it ended in a question mark—he simply grinned at Canada and responded, "Not exactly, but you get the idea."
The two nations looked at each other again, more puzzled than ever—though Tony was in such a mood that they chose not to comment on it. Instead they watched the little alien as he worked—he finally seemed satisfied with the glasses, and stuffed them into some sort of machine. It was small and squat, shaped like a fat box. After the glasses had been deposited inside it snapped shut, and Tony began fiddling with the controls on top of the strange device. A second later, there was a ding! sound, and Tony reached inside and took out the glasses again—except now there were two, not just one.
The two nations stared. "What is that?" Canada murmured, inching closer, England silently echoing his question.
"It's like a copy machine. It copies things. Okay, these have everything we need." Tony tossed them each a pair, which they both caught with confusion. "You'll be able to see the doors, open them, and there will be a communicator so we can talk. Press the button on the side and a map of the ship will pop up…" He took a larger pair out of his belt and put it on his head, and the countries watched in fascination as two straps extended from each end and wrapped around Tony's cranium, connecting at the back. "Put them on like so."
They both mimicked Tony, though it was kind of a bemused, jerky mimicry. The minute the glasses came on, they gasped—their world had just turned a light orange, but a lot of the equipment in Tony's ship was an electric blue.
"Why is all of your stuff blue?" England asked curiously.
"That shows all the machinery that uses cloaking equipment. I can see it naturally because I programmed it. I use a lot of the same equipment as the traders." A proud note entered Tony's voice. "They actually got all of their tech from us. We're one of the most advanced races in the universe."
Canada nodded, fascinated by the whole thing. How many times did you get to look at alien tech?
Suddenly, one of the little electronic machines nearby beeped loudly. Tony glanced at it, then grinned. "Well guys, that's your ride. Good luck."
Before they could do anything, Tony slammed his fist down on a nearby button, and the ground opened up beneath the two countries feet. They tumbled through the air and hit the desert sand, before the little spaceship let out a tiny whine and flew away.
"…little bastard abandoned us." England rose to his feet, staring after Tony, anger beginning to morph his features.
Canada coughed lightly to get England's attention, before pointing towards the sky, where a giant metallic ball was descending towards the two of them. "I think that's the least of our problems."
"I'm hungry."
Sahzek looked up from his note taking, and blinked owlishly at the American, who had been mostly silent for the majority of the time, only once making noise—when he had snapped the chains from his wrist. Or when he was whining about the tag Sahzek had stabbed painfully into his ear—after paralyzing him with some sort of electrical device. "Sorry?"
America rolled onto his stomach and looked up at the alien, giving him his best puppy-dog look—though maybe it wouldn't work on aliens. "I haven't had breakfast or lunch. I'm starving! Is there some sort of alien food that I might actually like on this flying tin can?"
"You…" The alien gave him a bewildered look, shifting in the chair that he had placed near the door, "…have been taken hostage by an alien trading ship, have just been told you are an alien, and all you can think about is food?"
America shrugged his broad shoulders. "Priorities, man. The tank is running on empty." He paused. "And I'm not an alien."
The writing utensil-like thing in Sahzek's hand-thing slowed to a stop, and he curiously leaned forwards, completely distracted from his writing. "Do you honestly not remember anything about the planet you hail from? Natnotica?"
The headache that had been tingling at the back of America's head suddenly began pounding again. He winced, unconsciously placing a hand on his temple, resting his elbow on the hard ground. Sahzek watched the movement with shameless curiosity. "…no."
"Are you sure?" Sahzek leaned closer, odd eyes gleaming. "Nothing about Pan? The Regisek? Crash landing on—"
He was very tired. His brethren were dead, he had long since thrown their bodies into a nearby star…there was a planet not too far from him, an expanse if immeasurable blue, one that looked habitable and clean—
"No!" He violently shook off the vision, feeling it fading behind a cloud he hadn't even noticed in his mind before now. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not an alien."
Sahzek seemed to realize that he was close to clearing the fog in America's mind, and leaned closer. If America didn't know better, he would have thought the creature was smirking at him.
But I'm not an alien. He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed. I…can't be. I would know. Wouldn't I?
"Have you ever thought about what you are?" Sahzek asked.
He was…he wasn't human, that he knew for sure. None of the countries were human. But that didn't make him an alien, did it—?
The ship was crashing. Fire cracked the glass and whirled around him, licking at his body, even as he piloted the ship as best as he could towards the ground. He could see that he was heading towards the only landmass on the tiny planet, but it was sizable enough, and there were tiny creatures on it—
Unbeknownst to America, who was deep inside his nightmares, the metal door opened up, and two other bipedal creatures were shoved inside. One of them had bright blond hair and striking violet eyes, a pair of oddly shaped orange glasses on his face. The other was also blond, though his was more of a dirty blond, and his sharp green eyes were also hidden behind a similar pair of orange glasses. They had been led by Marzha to the confinement area, after undergoing the same disorienting process that America had. For several seconds, the two creatures just stood there, looking a little stunned and dazed, before they realized that someone else was in the room with them.
The moment the violet-eyed one saw his brother writhing around on the ground, hands clutching his head, he gasped and rushed to his sibling's side. "America!" Canada cried, grabbing hold of his shoulders. "What have they done to you?"
Nobody noticed Sahzek leaving the room, obviously frightened of these newcomers, who was followed by a vaguely amused Marzha. She obviously hadn't told him anything about the situation.
England knelt down next to him, examining the American with quick, searching eyes—they hovered for just a second over the tag. "I don't think they've hurt him too badly. I hope." A second later there was a crackling sound, and then Tony's voice sounded in his ear—he barely managed to restrain a jump of shock.
"Whew, the glasses are working. For a second I was…" Tony trailed off, obviously able to see what was going on through England's glasses. "Oh shit. Those bastards."
England managed to shake off his shock, before opening his mouth to ask what was going on. Tony cut him off before he could voice his question. "Don't talk. They don't know a thing about these glasses, and I'd like to keep the advantage. This room was designed to enhance memories—I'm assuming they guessed that Pan would have lost a few of his memories along the way. But it's inhumane. Hurts like a bitch. You guys need to get out of there quickly, before America passes out or remembers everything, neither of which would be pretty. Now is actually a perfect time."
England opened his mouth to ask a question, before closing it with a snap and instead directing his attention to America, who was still wiggling, obviously in pain. Canada was whispering in his ear, trying to reach out to his almost comatose brother.
"We can't do anything for him until you get him out of this room." Tony paused. "One second, I've got to give a heads up to Canada." There was another crackle, like static, and then silence. A moment later, Canada stopped and sat up, obviously attentive. Then he nodded, and reached towards his brother, lifting him into his arms with relative ease.
The crackle was back. "Okay, all good." The little alien obviously didn't want to mince words—he spoke hurriedly, with purpose. "You see that blue shape on the wall?"
Still a little shocked by the whole venture, England looked around, eyes landing on the bright blue door-like thing. "How could I miss it?" He muttered, and Canada nodded next to him; they were obviously connected to the same channel, and could both hear Tony's directions. The two countries stopped in front of the door, waiting further instruction, unsure of what to do next.
"At the top of the door, if you touch it, a little black thing will drop down. You've got to—I'll just do that part from here, but just make the little black box thing drop down."
England glanced at Canada, who shrugged helplessly back, struggling slightly under the weight of his cargo, which was still twisting and moaning every few seconds. The older nation reached up and touched the top of the door, then watched in slight surprise as the black box—as promised—dropped.
Tony sounded very smug. "It's a shortcut. If a separate species ever needed to operate a door for an emergency, those were added." There was a pause, and then the door made a sort of squishing noise and opened. "Now keep moving. I've hacked into this pathetic system's operations, so I know where everything is. A couple feet ahead of you there should be an intersection…"
England reached up and pressed the button on his glasses, and a second later a map appeared in his vision. "Wicked." He muttered, a grin spreading across his face. Before Tony had a chance to respond, the two were interrupted by a soft, weak voice.
"Canada." Said nation looked down in surprise when he felt a weak touch on his arm, and England stopped as wel and glanced over at the person who had spoken—America. "I'm fine. Let me down." Obligingly Canada gently lowered his brother, who was obviously still out of it—there was a distracted look in his gaze, and he wobbled slightly. "Sorry. I can move on my own now."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Canada asked, keeping a firm hand on his back, feeling the muscles shaking beneath his light touch.
"I'm fine." America shook off the helping hand and gave his brother a weak smile. "Just got a killer headache. Now how are we getting off of this joint?"
Both realized that America was lying to them, but they didn't have time to question him about it right now. After they all got off the ship—that was when they would interrogate him.
"Tony." England gestured to the glasses, where the little alien was being unusually silent. "He gave us these glasses."
America was about to respond, when Tony's voice suddenly crackled to life—over their heads. They all glanced up in shock.
"Okay, break time's over." Tony said grimly. "They know you guys are gone. I managed to get into the sound system, but you better hurry. I locked them in their rooms, but it won't hold Kazhok or Marzha for long. There's an escape pod not too far from here, there's enough room for all of you guys." When he saw their hesitance, he barked, "HURRY!"
"Where, Tony?" America shouted back, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice at the alien's obvious lack of concentration.
There was a stunned silence, and then something that sounded like…laughter? "I missed you, boss." Tony chuckled, also sounding a bit embarrassed. "It's to your left."
America grinned into the air, looking as amused as Tony sounded, face lit up with childish amusement, still standing there—even though Canada and England were already moving towards the exit. "Okay!"
And suddenly, Canada understood why Tony wanted him to ask that question back in the ship—the one not at all related to the subject. It was because it was something only someone like America would say, and…Tony had actually missed his brother. It's sort of cute, and sort of sad, in a way, He mused, Though I can't decide whether to be flattered or annoyed…
After a few more turns they found the escape pods—there were three or four of them, though the pods were large enough to hold all three of them. As Canada dropped inside first, England waited patiently by the hatch, and America talked quietly with Tony a few feet away.
"America!" England called as soon as Canada was safely stowed.
"One second!" America waved away the older nation, before looking into the sky. "Tony, is there a self-destruct mechanism on this ship?"
There was a long pause as the little alien checked. "Yeah. I've set it for five minutes; that should give you plenty of time to get back safely. Now go!"
He grinned towards the speakers again and turned back to England, ready to get out of this blasted place…but then blue caught green, but green wasn't look at him, it was looking through him, eyes widening as he stared in horror—
America threw himself to the floor, just in time to get out of the way of a deadly swing by Marzha's weapon. He scrambled to the side as she lifted up the sword-like thing and brought it down at his prone body—he propped himself against the wall and lashed out with one foot, catching her with a superhuman kick in the side. She gasped loudly, obviously not expecting the strength in America's blow, and the nation took the time to jump up and start running towards the escape pod.
He was stopped when Kazhok's tall form abruptly slammed itself against England, knocking him fully into the escape pod, before slamming the hatch shut, effectively sealing the two countries inside. When his eyes caught America's, the nation realized that he and Kazhok didn't have to be the same species to see the madness roiling just beneath the surface, let loose by the obvious defeat of his trading ship. "You won't see them again," Kazhok hissed, ignoring the sounds of pounding glass—England and Canada were throwing all their strength at the alien substance. The alien slammed his hand down on a button on the center of the escape pod. "I'm sending them into deep space."
America stared despairingly at the alien, and then looked over his own shoulder at Marzha, who was still recovering. She wore a furious expression—at least, he thought it looked furious—on her face, clutching her ribs with one hand. He turned to look back at England, eyes burning in defiance and fury, and then at Canada, whose deep gaze calmed him and steadied him.
It was obvious that he was outmatched. He honestly didn't see a way to save himself and the two trapped in the escape pod…
Then, salvation.
A tinny voice crackled over the speakers, and Tony's confident voice broke the stillness in the air. The two aliens jumped, but America just looked up expectantly. "Not if I can help it." There was a beeping noise—and then the escape pod loosed itself from the ship. America watched in horror…but then sighed in relief when Tony's ship came out and caught the pod in its tractor beam. "You have one minute until this ship implodes. Get out of there now. Even you can't survive that."
America went to nod his head, but was stopped when a body barreled rather rudely right into him, knocking him to the ground. A second later a booted foot placed itself on his back, holding him there. Kazhok's voice sounded out a moment later, primal rage evident. "We won't let you escape."
"We'll shoot you first." Marzha, her cold voice still calm and controlled, even as the clock counted down for the ship's destruction.
"Just try and stop me!" America shouted back, and rolled over, catching the foot on his back in one hand. There was a bark as Marzha's gun went off, but it was too late—America had Kazhok's ankle in his iron grasp, and he threw the large alien at the female, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Without further ado, he scrambled to his feet and ran towards the emptied escape pod hangar.
There was one last bark of the gun, and something slammed into his shoulder—he stumbled slightly, rolled, but then got up and kept going. Just a little more…! He lowered his head like a battering ram and crashed through the doors, sending a javelin of pain through his head—there was a screech, and then he crashed through the second set of doors, out into the frigid, empty air of space, but there was fire on his heels—
Blackness.
"Where is he?" Canada could feel himself beginning to shake—his brother was either floating aimlessly in space, or had just been imploded on the alien ship. Neither option sounded very good. This wasn't helped by the fact the two were still floating in Tony's tractor beam, stuck in the escape pod, and there were little bits of the ship floating all around them—just the image of his brother in a million little pieces, floating around in this rubble was enough to make him near-hysterical. "What happened to Alfred?"
England sat beside him, though his back was turned to Canada, and he was staring out the window; he hadn't uttered a word for several minutes.
"Calm down." Tony's voice was back in the glasses, his sound system having been ripped away from him. "Don't waste your air. I'm scanning for him right now—if he's still alive, then I should be able to pick up where he is."
"If he's still alive?" It came out as a high pitched squeak. "No. Not a chance. Either you find him within the next five seconds or I'm going to jump out of this escape pod and go looking for him myself."
"That's crazy, you'll be killed right along with him!" Tony sounded impatient—but there was a hint of desperation in his voice. "America isn't like that, he wouldn't want you to—"
"He'd do the same for me." Canada rose as best he could—once again, he found his back flush against the walls, fighting for room to stand up in.
"I'll come with." England said suddenly, rising to his feet—a little less awkwardly, he was shorter than Canada. Something the younger nation noticed about him almost immediately was the fact that his face was drawn with tension, lines of age spreading across his visage. "It's my fault…I couldn't stop that alien. If I did, we wouldn't be in this situation—"
There was a whooshing noise over the glasses intercom, and it took a second for Canada to realize that it was a sigh. "You two, with the fucking hero complexes. Sit down. I found him, I'm bringing him in."
Neither sat—neither one could have, even if they wanted to.
It needed to be said—Canada whispered tentatively, almost frightened of the answer, "Is he alive?"
There was a long silence—it answered his question though. After that long pause, Tony spoke, quiet but determined. "I'm bringing us in for a landing in the US. We can probably get some help there*."
It actually took only a few minutes to land on the surface of the earth, but it felt like hours to the two countries. In their tiny confinements, Canada counted every crack in the wall (there were none), counted every breath he took (which was a bit faster than his usual easy, slow pace), and he went over that awful scene where they were sitting in the escape pod, unable to help America as he battled his foes…
It was nerve racking. And if it was this bad for him, how much worse could it be for England? Canada glanced at the older nation, who had gone back to staring out the window as they fell slowly through the atmosphere. Now that he thought about it, England was blaming himself for whatever had happened to America, even though there was nothing he could have done about it.
It was nobody's fault.
England looked up at him in surprise, and it took a second for Canada to realize that he had actually said that last thought out loud.
"W-Well…" He began. "You were taken off guard—that alien just caught you by surprise. And Al wasn't hurt because your look told him that the other alien was there—so if you hadn't been there, things would have been a lot worse..." Canada's voice petered off into an awkward silence—hell, he didn't know if he was saying the right things. Him and his big mouth.
There was a soft clunking noise as the pod landed, but neither country broke their gazes, simply holding each other still with their non-vocal conversations. They had been so desperate to get out before of the pod before, but now…
Finally England smiled slightly and nodded, a bit of the tension on his tired face loosening, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "You're…right. Thank you, Canada." He seemed to get what Canada was trying to say.
It's not your fault.
"I hate to break up the guilt-sap party, but I've gotta run. The ambulance is closing in on your location, and I don't want to imagine what sort of widespread panic I would cause if I was seen." Tony sounded vaguely annoyed. "Which means you've got to get out of the escape pod. You read me?"
Wordlessly England pushed open the door, remembering to toss the glasses in behind him—they wouldn't need them anymore. Besides, he really didn't want to give Tony a look into his life. Canada followed him, though he kept his glasses—if he ever needed to get in touch with Tony again, these were his best option.
"Luck, Tony!" The Canadian called, waving at the spaceship as it lifted up from the ground. The craft hesitated, as though surprised, before bobbing slightly (almost like a nod) and disappearing into the sky.
For a second he simply watched Tony's disappearing ship, expression pensive yet curiously blank—until England called his name, snapping him from his trance-like state.
"Canada!"
The younger nation glanced over, and his eyes widened in shock when he saw that England was kneeling over a motionless body.
He ran.
Two Months later
"Remember to charge your space phone, and call every night. Here's some snacks, make them last, okay? Or at least try to." Canada was going through the bag, digging up its contents. "I packed you some McDonald's for lunch today, and I packed some entertainment." He lifted the portable movie player up to eye level, before dropping it down again. "And a few books too. I put in all your favorite movies, and…"
"Geez, mom." America rolled his eyes and lifted the bag from Canada's surprised hands. "I'll be fine. It's just for a month." There were still bandages on his face, but they were mostly just for show—America was still getting used to the burn scars, and whenever he looked in the mirror he tended to flinch.
America had stayed in the hospital for about three weeks, recovering from his brush with spaceship fire and the bullet, not only physically but mentally.
He was now sporting a variety of burn scars all over, but especially on his back. He would mostly likely have the scars for the rest of his life, but that was nothing new to a nation—he already had a multitude of healed wounds forever captured in his skin.
Not only that, but he had practically been bipolar those first few weeks—one moment he was acting like his old self, the next he was serene and calm. Always, though, he was sporting a horrible headache. Tony had said that this was because America's old memories were merging with his new memories, coupled with the fact that his telepathy was growing stronger. The Natnoticans had been peaceful people, and their minds had been open to every one of their kind—which meant that America was starting to get some of those characteristics. The headache was not only from the memories, but also because his mind was getting opened up to other countries' thoughts.
After he had mostly recovered, or during the fourth week of the first month, America had an identity crisis. Honestly Canada had been expecting it for a while—after all; memories of being a completely different person were being forced into his head. It was only natural.
It had been hard. For nearly two weeks, America had been…well, he snapped. Broke like a twig. Canada had done his best to support his older brother as he tried to rediscover himself, as he warred with his own thoughts, but sometimes…it was just too much. His brother was going through something that Canada didn't really understand, so he couldn't help him. It was agonizing. England had tried to help at first, too, but he didn't have the patience to deal with America.
Only Canada did. Perhaps Tony could have helped at that point, but the little alien was somewhere else, even though his best friend needed him right then.
At the time Canada couldn't help but resent him a little for that.
And then Tony had returned, and apparently the reason he'd been gone was because he was cleaning up the mess with the traders and the Regisek. The Natnoticans were still a secret—for now anyway; no doubt someone would discover them again.
Canada had forgiven the little alien, of course. The best part—when Canada told Tony about what was going on, he said,
"Your brother needs to discover himself again. His whole world was just turned upside down—I can take him with me to see his home planet, to see if that helps. Even though it's just a giant hunk of floating rock now," Tony smiled, "It's still your guys' home."
America had agreed. Canada was a little leery of letting him off the planet—after all, this was his brother they were talking about. He would probably damage interplanetary relationships or something stupid like that—but still…maybe it would help.
That was all that mattered. But that didn't mean Canada had to like it.
The Canadian had to resist the urge to wipe his eyes, and instead gave his brother a watery smile. "You're an idiot. Remember to play nice with Tony, okay? Don't insult any alien leaders—actually, just let Tony do all the talking. Remember to take a coat when—"
America smiled quietly, and pressed his hand on top of Canada's blonde head, effectively silencing him. His expression was serious and calm, an unusual look that still caught Canada off guard. "Don't worry Canada. I swear, nothing will happen. I'll have Tony with me, yeah?"
Tears filled Canada's eyes, and he shook his head violently. This was…the way it had to be. He had to be strong, for the both of them. "If…If something happens, I'm going to get a whole battle fleet to track you down!" He paused for a second, before reaching forwards and poking his brother in the chest. "And if you do something stupid, I'll kick your ass all the way to the next quadrant, understand?"
He felt himself relax when America let out a boisterous laugh. Yes, this he could deal with. This was the America he knew. "I'd expect nothing less of my awesome little brother!" Then he wrapped his arms around Canada, hugging him tightly.
They stayed like that for a minute or so.
"…please be careful." Canada whispered, closing his eyes against his brother's coat, smelling the scent of car grease, hamburgers, and the unexpected undercurrent of pine.
"You know it." America responded back, and then there was an odd sensation on Canada's mind, as though it was being petted and soothed. He practically melted—the calming sensation was just a side-effect of the whole 'telepathy' thing, but it was wonderful.
"I hope you find what you're looking for." He breathed, and he wasn't sure if America had heard it or not—for some reason, though he thought America understood.
There they remained, in the complete silence, simply enjoying each other's—
"America, hurry up! I'm on a schedule here!"
Said American jumped in surprise, and looked to the sky, easily finding Tony's space ship with his eyes. "Sorry Tony!" He flashed Canada an easy smile.
"Go." The younger brother said, lips curling in response. He backed away from his older brother. "Remember what I said."
The tractor beam flashed into existence, completely encasing America in its gentle blue light.
"What are you worried about, Mattie?" America winked. "I am the hero, after all."
And then he vanished.
Tell me, did you sail across sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded,
And that Heaven is over rated?
Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star?
One without a permanent scar,
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
...
Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get to dance along the light of day,
And head back to the Milky Way?
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find,
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
Drops of Jupiter, Train
*At this point it was late, and I was approximately thiiiis close to actually killing him off. Just thought I should mention that.
Argh, why is this so long? I feel like this isn't very good, either...maybe it's just because I've been staring at it for at least a few weeks. Er...months. Literally. I started this late December, with the intent to post it on New Year's, but then...it just got longer and longer and longer...haha yeah. 12,000 words. *bangs head against computer*
I have no idea where this one came from-but itsn't that how it always is? I never seem to know what I'm doing half the time, or where I'm going. Anyway, after this I have 6 (!) oneshots left before my big Hiatus.
Thanks again Gargoyle Alchemist, you always give me the best reviews! :) And of course Vampchick, hearing from you is always a pleasure.
Vampchick: I decided to take a different approach in that One Shot. I will admit, it's kind of refreshing to write something new. :) I'm glad you liked it.
Gargoyle Alchemist: I was going for that intent. After all, my main is angst. And I took your advice on something, so I guess listening to you made it that much better! Thanks!
So...my project has a TITLE. It's called 'To Condemn the Free'. Eeeeek I'm so excited. And I might have a new editor for it, so yayz! Halfway through the twelfth-er, 12th chapter. It's been a long, hard road with that story...And it's going to be posted within the year. It's kind of mind boggling for me. I just know I'm going to cry when it's all over...
IceEckos12
P.S. Like the new avatar? :D
P.P.S. ARGH THE NEW SEASON CAME OUT.
P.P.P.S. BTW, if anyone wants to do cover art for Condemn the Free, you know who to review. It would be mucho appreciated.