Chapter 9: I See Fairy Tales
London was silent. It seemed as though the entire World had gone completely still, except for the single car driving down the abandoned road. Newspapers fluttered around silently, and the blackened shells of several burned vehicles peppered the streets. The riots had died down, leaving London as quiet as it had ever been. America gripped the steering wheel lightly, glancing in the rearview mirror. He adjusted it to get a better look at the man sitting in the back. England. He looked absolutely exhausted, very pale, and very skinny. He would need to eat something when they got back to the manor.
"Hey Iggy, how about next week you come over to my place? It's summer over there you know," America said softly.
England didn't stir. He was looking wistfully out the window of the back seat, before he made a small hum, which couldn't exactly be defined as a yes or no. America's eyes lingered on him for a moment more before he looked back to the road. France, who had been in the passengers seat, turned around now.
"I'm sure he wants to spend time in his own country for awhile, non? We can have vacation time later Alfred," he said, a sad smile crossing his features.
England repeated the small hum again, his expression and position remaining the same. France lingered for just a moment longer. He turned around, staring out at the silent city.
"God Bless the Queen," England murmured.
Both nations looked back to see that he had leaned back in the seat, his eyes closed. It was a bit depressing, though neither dwelled on it to much. This was the best reaction they had expected after what had happened. He didn't move, just breathing deeply and folding his arms over his chest. France turned to America, the two exchanging a worried glance.
"Uh, were here Iggy."
England took another breath before his bright green eyes fluttered open. He leaned over to look out the window, taking in the sight of his home. It was enormous and ancient, though quite elegant. He nodded silently and opened the door, taking a few shaky steps down the small pathway to the front door. America and France were quick to follow, remaining close. England walked hesitantly to the front door, reaching out for the knob. His hand stopped just before it. He wavered a bit, then took the doorknob and swung it open. The house smelled faintly of tea leaves and peppermint, though it was very cold inside.
America and France both let out a breath they had been holding in, then laughed. England turned, confusion etched on his face. Both nations threw themselves on him in a warm hug, laughter rumbling through their bodies. Confusion turned into surprise, before England simply let his body go slack, accepting the hug. They continued to stand there on the front porch, laughing and forming a delightful group hug. England remained slack, becoming slightly more content with the hug. On a normal day, he would have immediately shoved the both of them away with a shouted insult. Today was not a normal day. England turned his head to France, catching sight of the tears on his cheeks.
"I'm so happy you're alright Angleterre. I always imagined it, when you were finally back," he said, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe away the tears.
"And now you are," America said, grinning.
He was not crying as France was, but his eyes looked a bit more sparkling and wet than usual. England nodded, and the two finally let go. He walked slowly into the foyer, America and France at his sides. He inhaled through his nose, and, for the first time in nearly two years, smiled.
"I think a mug of Earl Grey is in order," he said quietly.
America opened his mouth, nearly about to ask for coffee, until France shot him a death stare. He visibly gulped before grinning nervously.
"Sounds good Iggy. Want us to make it?" he said, rubbing the back of his head.
"No, I couldn't imagine what you'd put in it. I'll make the tea, and France can make us lunch," England said, turning to smile at the two.
"Of course mon ami! Finally admitting your terrible cooking skills, oui?" France teased lightly.
"Oh, ha ha. Funny Francis, cocky git," England scowled, earning a round of chuckles.
America ruffled England's hair as if he were a small child, the Brit ducking away and attempting to flatten his hair.
"There's our Iggy," he said happily.
"I'm not 'Iggy,' bloody git," he mumbled, before proceeding to the kitchen.
Everything was back to normal.
XxXxXxXxXx
"Mr. Prime Minister, I believe we need to have a discussion."
The President's private meeting room had been prepared for a video conference. Large monitors covered the wall, each displaying the leaders of individual countries, their nationality displayed beneath them. The Prime Minister was pale, and visibly gulped. The rest of the national leaders stared at him, serious expressions bearing down on him.
"That isn't necessary, I have already agreed to reform our alliance-"
"What you did caused widespread riots across your entire country. Do you have any idea how painful that must have been for Arthur, given his current condition?" The U.S. President spoke, his voice rising slightly.
The Prime Minister flinched at the accusing tone, before bristling up, preparing for the argument that was sure to come.
"Mr. President, I am in control of the situation in my country. The riots have already begun to die down..."
"Surely you understand the mistake here then?" The Russian President began.
"Of course I do, no alliance will be jeopardized again-"
"Good. It has been very difficult to get work done when our own nations are so against what you have caused," the French President said, an annoyed expression across his face.
The Prime Minister opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he slowly closed his lips. The other leaders watched him as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat, averting his eyes from the monitors.
"I think the Prime Minister understands the point. This won't happen again," Obama concluded.
The Prime Minister could do nothing but nod as the monitors were switched off one by one.
XxXxXxXxXx
Wind swept across the vast courtyard of the hospital, blowing leaves and newspapers this way and that. A lone figure walked briskly across the ancient cobblestones, his shoes clicking on each one, his long black coat whipping behind him. He passed through the abandoned doors and gazed around the waiting room. Nobody was there waiting for him, not a single soul in the entire facility. The small table in the center of the room was tipped over, magazines scattered on the floor, and the wallpaper was torn from the walls in jagged strips. The man walked onwards, pushing open the doors that hung loosely from their hinges. Empty cells lined the halls, their doors halfway open. The place looked as though it hadn't been inhabited in years.
A sign hung over the entryway to another hall. Section 4. The man walked in, gazing around. It was sterile there, the walls white and the smell of antiseptics made it seem like a very real hospital, rather than a mental facility. The cells here looked comfortable, blankets covering the beds and a comfortable wall blocking off the toilets, for privacy. The man opened one of the cells. Numbered '145' the cell looked just the same as any other. How significant this cell was though, belonging to him. The man sat on the bed, looking about the room wistfully. He raised his head, green eyes piercing and bright. He ruffled his messy blonde hair, before standing and drawing his coat closer to himself.
"This place has many memories," a hollow voice echoed from the doorway.
The man studied the figure in the doorway with an interested expression. It wore a red coat, white ruffles around the collar and sleeves. A long, shining sword was sheathed at its right hip, and its arms hung at its sides. One hand was missing, a gleaming silver hook in its place.
"Mm, it does. Funny that you would be here Hook," England said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh Britain, if you only knew what you've put me through."
England raised his chin a bit, tilting his head to the side in a curious manner.
"Oh? What exactly have I put you through then?"
"You abandoned me. Abandoned us. Now all we have is this place," Hook said, motioning to his surroundings.
"Then you've broken away? Truly?" England asked.
Hook sighed.
"Yes Britain. Your mind is not our prison anymore. You've thrown us out into a new cell. We won't be seeing you again," Hook said, breaking out into a smile.
Specks of light appeared around him. England was not scared, nor was he very concerned. He had moved past fear, moved past that feeling of concern. He understood what was happening. The light began to form figures. A leprechaun, a fairy, a unicorn. Mythical creatures straight out of a children's fairy tale. They waved at the man in front of him. They had spent several hundred years together, and now they were departing. England could not help but shed a tear as Flying Mint Bunny flew up to him, nuzzling its small fuzzy face into his neck. He could feel it.
"I will miss you, I suppose. Though you have all caused me a great deal of pain, I can't say it wasn't fun at times," England said.
The small green rabbit left his shoulder, coming to a rest on Hook's arm.
"Goodbye Britain!" They said cheerfully.
England blinked away the last remaining tears, opening his eyes to find a bare room. He sniffed once before walking out of the cell, down the hall and into the lobby. He smiled before opening the door, into the now brightly lit courtyard. Birds flew about in the air, a very light breeze stemming away the summer air just barely, giving way to a bright blue sky. England raised his arms and took it in, before walking to the car on the side of the road. He entered the backseat.
"So mon ami, was that enough closure for you?" France asked.
"Yes. Funny isn't it? I can't believe the Queen convinced my boss to shut the place down for good."
"Yeah dude, that's awesome that bastard doctor lost his damn job."
"Yes, of course. Though, I can't help but feel something is... off."
America raised an eyebrow.
"Like what?"
"...Am I awake America?"
A/n: Was it mean of me to end that right there? Haha, sorry :p there is going to be an epilogue, so do not worry! I hate to make y'all wait, but I couldn't resist but to end it right there :) Is he crazy still? Is he not? What happened at the end of the last chapter, and what happened just now? Did this even happen at all? We will find out in the epilogue, so until then... dun dun dun!