Triggered by the birth of Alaska or Hawaii or through just random thought, one nation (anon's choice) finally does the math and realizes that America had to have been really, really, alarmingly, unacceptably young when his oldest states (then colonies) were born. He/she confronts America about it, and America either flashbacks to it or actively tells the tale.
Fluff not preferred for obvious reasons. Also, using bunny-hugging, buffalo-twirling baby!US is probably too creepy even for this request, so not THAT young. Other than that, go to town.
At the time of Hawaii's statehood, Canada hadn't seen or heard from his little brother for months, and if he'd been scared before now, that was nothing on what he felt when he got a phone call from Japan, asking if he knew where America was.
Canada was family, so if something was wrong, he would have been informed. This aloofness must be voluntary--calling America's boss would give Canada no help. He tried calling America's states, but half of them mistook Canada for America over the phone and launched into furious complaints about their neighboring siblings. The others toyed with Canada, telling him their father was at such-and-such place or so-and-so's home. He must've made thirty calls before he caught onto their scheme, and he was so annoyed, he dropped the search for his brother, because if the states found it fine to play pranks on their uncle (and in the case of some of them, their other father) it wasn't likely that anything was amiss.
So after another six weeks of waiting, when Canada got a phone call from his brother one morning, demanding to know why Canada hadn't visited America's new baby, Canada was more angered than relieved.
"Where have you been?!"
"That's a no, then? Some uncle you're turning out to be!"
"You didn't answer my question. You took off without a word! I was worried about you!"
"You're not my mother." There was an abrupt pause, then a clacking noise, like America had set the phone down on a counter or tabletop. Canada could hear something going on in the background, but wasn't sure what it was. Then as quickly as he'd went away, America was back on the line. "But seriously, Canada, it's a lot easier for you to come see me than it is for me to go see you, with me having one kid under a year old and another not even two months."
A little calmer now, Canada asked, "If I visit you, will you explain what you've been up to since I've seen you last?"
"Oh, that? I went somewhere. Stayed with someone. I'm sworn to secrecy over it, so I can't tell you anything."
Canada glared at the phone, considering screaming into it at his brother. "Are you all right, at least?"
"I'm fine! Alaska's fine, Hawaii's fine--she's gotten really cute now! All the bruising has healed up, I can take her places and people fall all over themselves, complimenting her."
"Wait. Did you hold out on calling me because you were waiting for your kid to start looking cute?" He knew first-hand how bruised America's babies got, during delivery, and how it took weeks for them to heal up. Why in the world would that suddenly be an issue?
America laughed obnoxiously. "I'll see you soon!"
"I didn't say I was--"
The line went dead.
***
Because he was still worried, Canada gave in to America's demand, getting on the first flight he could finagle that day, and using every trick he had as a country to reach America's place. It was the next afternoon when he got into the state where America's first and main home was, and as he sat through a taxi ride, trying not to fall asleep, Canada felt about ready to kill his brother.
He was in the middle of collecting enough of the right currency to pay the driver when America attacked him from behind, hugging Canada in a mighty squeeze. "Mattie!" he shouted into Canada's ear, because the driver was still there and they didn't use real names in front of citizens.
"Please stop squishing me. I need to pay the driver."
America loosened his grip on Canada enough for Canada to hand over payment--the driver was giving them a strange look--but he didn't actually let go.
As the taxi drove off, Canada was dragged into the house.
"I left Alaska in his playpen, but I'm not sure how long that'll hold him, he's sort of walking around, or trying to, and he's been making that thing--"
A crashing came from another room.
"--topple over so he can get out," America finished. He released Canada and rushed off.
Canada momentarily stood still, feeling the start of a headache, and wished he had stayed home.
***
He was able to beg off immediately visiting with Alaska and meeting Hawaii by pointing out just how much trouble it had been for him to get here this fast, and America shrugged and led Canada to a guest room.
As Canada lay on the bed, halfway between slumber and wakefulness, a thought hit him: America had fifty kids now.
In less than two hundred years.
"...how old was he when he had Virginia?"
The potential answer to this disturbed him so much that he was amazed he was even able to fall asleep.
***
After napping for a few hours, Canada's headache was averted, but he was still troubled over the subject of America's firstborn.
He found America in the living room, wrestling with little Alaska. The baby, Hawaii, was asleep, stomach-first on the couch.
"You're awake!" America had been trying to get a tiny pair of red pants on his son, but Alaska was putting up extreme resistance. At the sight of Canada, he stopped struggling, staring up at the nation with innocent blue eyes.
"Uh, yeah...so...this baby is Japan's?" Canada kneeled by the couch, tilting his head to better study the baby. She had pudgy cheeks, hair that stood on end, and pouty lips. Canada rubbed her back with his fingertips. "She's really cute!"
"I told you so." America succeeded in getting pants on Alaska, then let him wobble off.
"So..." Canada said.
"So," America said back.
"The reason you brought me here...?"
"I was bored."
Canada stared. "You...were...bored."
"Did you think Alaska and Hawaii were good conversationalists?"
Why was he even surprised? He knew America, he knew how America's method of operating worked--he should have expected to be invited here for completely trivial reasons. Canada went back to massaging Hawaii's tiny back, because this composed him and gave him less of an urge to go off at his brother. "Hey," he said, now remembering, "how old were you when you had Virginia?"
"Really young." America pulled over a laundry basket and started sorting through the clothing it held. It was all baby clothes.
"No, really. How old were you?"
"I'm not playing around. I'm not sure what my exact age was! At that time, I only ever knew what date it was when England was around. I know it was before the first time Netherlands visited me alone."
This was worse than he'd imagined. "You were really young then. Like, as in, little kid."
"Good thing I'm not human."
"That doesn't make it better!" He said this more loudly than he'd intended and he quickly looked down at Hawaii, hoping he hadn't woken her. She snuffled, shifted a little under his hand, and kept sleeping.
"How does that make it worse?" America asked, not getting Canada's outrage on his behalf. "I hit a growth spurt after the one time with England."
"England did you when you were a kid?!" How could he speak so calmly of this?
"He was really drunk. I didn't want him to leave again, so I thought if I could give him what France was giving him, he'd be happier with me and stay." America's voice remained casual, but he was twisting the fabric of the pastel onesie in his hands, rather than folding it to add to the pile of clothing he was working on. "It...didn't really work."
"I would hope not," Canada snapped.
"He was really horrified, after he sobered up. He said it was better if he wasn't around me, if he couldn't even control himself, and then...I didn't see him again for years."
"And what was Netherlands's excuse?"
"...I had a visitor and I didn't want him to leave?" Taking Canada's horror to be condemnation, America got defensive. "Hey, I was alone in this big house all the time! Do you have any idea how scary that is, when you're that young? You know I'm a people person, and having one child didn't make me feel less alone!"
There was a whimper from the couch--they'd woken Hawaii. Looking almost relieved by this interruption, America scooped up the baby, cuddling her close.
Canada helplessly watched his brother, disgusted with himself for never having once asked about this, or doing the math for himself and coming to the obvious. And what of England and Netherlands? Why was it alright for them to use America, then leave him, and let him deal with the repercussions for their wrongdoing?
He got to his feet, and walked over to America, who looked up in surprise as he was tightly hugged. Appearing slightly unclear over what this was about, America nevertheless welcomed the affection, since it was rare that he didn't have to initiate intimacy.
And I'm not fooling, reading some of America's responses made actual tears come to my eyes. I don't cry a lot, honestly, so this is kind of a big emotional reaction for me. In fact I have a feeling my mom would yell at me for crying over a story and not over IRL things but you're a better writer than *family member* is a *thing*.
Ah yeah, sorry for the awkward and tortured simile but you're REALLY good and this story is good and "since it was rare that he didn't have to initiate intimacy" made me wibble.
America is so...strangely sad in this. Like he's hiding it but it's obvious to someone who knows him well like Canada. I'm so glad this got filled quick(I was the anon who seconded) and it's being done so well! I can't wait for more.
This is the fic I always dreamed. Thank you OP for such an amazing prompt, and THANK YOU authoranon for delivering so beautifully. I can't wait for the next part (and god, I hope you keep the Americest brotherly, because brotherly!Canada is <3) I'm going to hell for finding pre-teen mpreg!America sexy...
America had fantasized long and hard on what could convince his guardian to never again leave, but it was only on a night when England came back from the nearest town, drunker than the colony had ever seen him, that America found the nerve to act on the one thing he suspected would work.
He crawled into England's bed after the country had sprawled out there.
England thought America was being his usual affectionate self. "America, you're such a good child," he slurred, his arms wrapping around the colony. "All day, I just thought about you and wanted to come home to you."
This was the sort of thing America loved hearing, but what he was about to do had him too keyed up to appreciate the compliment; he had to offer some sort of bribe to keep England here. England would never go for this in normal circumstances. If America had learned anything from eavesdropping on his guardian, it was that the country was a huge pervert, and if England was getting sex here, he'd have everything he needed! There'd be no reason to ever go! He wouldn't even need to be around those other nations he so disliked.
England had other ideas, or was just too drunk to cooperate with America's amateur attempts. "Will you hold still?" he mumbled, brushing away America's hands. "I want to sleep."
America was getting impatient. "We don't have to sleep."
"Well, very well, you don't have to sleep, go do something else if you're not tired." The country still believed America's actions were innocent.
But it's hard to assume innocence of a person who starts kissing your lips while you're both lying in the same bed, and England stiffened in shock at America's advances. It was not until America tried removing England's clothing that the country finally gathered, in his muddled state, that something very wrong was happening. "America, I don't need your help getting my clothes off. I don't even need them off. I'm fine."
Though the colony was a child, he was still stronger than his guardian, and he used this to his advantage now, grabbing England's wrists and keeping him from being able to fend off America. "Pretend I'm France," he said. This pained him. He had thought it would be enough, giving himself to the country.
"What?"
"You like this sort of thing, don't you?"
"Not with children! America, you're being absurd and there's no way you can want this. Release me at once."
"No! I don't want you leaving again!" He didn't actually know what to do next, and with England's garbled protests and threats, America was under the impression that none of this was very appealing, but he refused to give up. "I do want this! Why don't you?"
"You are a child."
With a pout that didn't need to be faked, America said mutinously: "I can go to one of the nations you don't like, for this, if you won't give me what I want."
The bluff prevailed, but what happened next did not feel like a success to the colony--England's fumbling hurt like hell, America had to hold back his tears lest England stop, and afterward, the country passed out while America slipped off to attend to the mess trickling down his legs. It was revolting and he hurt even more now that it was over than he had during the act itself.
People liked doing that?
***
The plan backfired spectacularly. England was so disgusted with himself, that after checking to make sure he hadn't done lasting harm to America (who lied and said England hadn't hurt him), he stayed away from his charge, with the anguished statement that he "was a danger to America!"
America thought England would get over it if he just gave his guardian some space--he couldn't leave, especially now that they'd done that--so he was in for a daunting blow when England announced, feigning normalcy, that he was leaving again. Immediately.
He said he'd be back, but unlike the other times, England told America to become strong, which he'd never before felt the need to advise. This did not sound promising to America.
His whole world was falling apart, with England's departure, and in the aftermath, America went about in a haze, continually telling himself every day, "That's how England acts. He's always blustering over one thing or another. He said he'll be back, he can't stay gone."
Only he did. And as America believed his situation to be as downhill as was possible, somehow--things found a way of getting worse.
Sniffling and falling into outright crying fits, America kept the house in order, carrying out everyday routine. A weird, panicky, misery took hold of him. He worked at chores till his hands cramped too much to hold anything. His back seemed to stiffen up and was aching constantly. On days he was busy with activities that required little mobility, his feet hurt as badly as if he'd walked barefoot for days on jagged rocks. He had to have been being careless with how he was handling food, because he was getting sick, usually at night after he'd gotten into bed and had been lying down for a while.
When he started gaining weight, America wasn't too concerned, because he also was getting taller and he figured this was a growth spurt, something he was more than happy to have happen--all the better for when England came back! Except the weight increase was around his stomach only, and that didn't seem right for all the vomiting he'd been doing or how unstable his eating habits had become. As the bloating continued, he didn't stop feeling ill, though he spent less time throwing up. An odd churning kept happening within him, like his stomach had had enough and was turning on him in protest.
All of this went on for so long that America grew used to it.
***
After a particularly distressing day when he'd gotten stupidly upset over being hungry and not wanting to eat anything he had in the house, America ended up in bed early, curling up as best he could with his distended belly getting in the way, overtaken by a backache that was so intense he had been afraid he'd pass out if he stayed on his feet.
Out of exhaustion, he fell asleep. How long, he was not sure, but he woke up shaking and throbbing.
"What...? It's spreading?" Now his stomach was cramping as well, and unsteadily, America got out of bed. He supported himself against the frame, trying to work up the energy to at least leave the room to relieve himself, when he became aware of his nightshirt sticking to his backside. He was too tired and hurting too badly to feel embarrassment over having had an accident, but when he turned around and looked down at the bed, nothing prepared him for the sight of blood on the mattress.
"What...what...how...why is...there's..." He couldn't make sense of this, and his stammering turned to hyperventilating, as terrified, he touched the soiled part of his nightshirt, then looked at his fingers. "...blood? It's coming from me."
Lurching forward, America staggered out of the room. Focusing on dealing with the details helped him to not collapse on the floor and scream non-stop from sheer horror till he had no voice left, which was seeming like a great idea, all things considered. "Get out of this shirt. Wipe off the blood. Find out where it's coming from. Clean the bed." How could he be bleeding? And so much! Nothing had happened to him, the day before, to cause him to be injured. As he walked throughout the house, he noted his bloodied shirt wasn't getting cold--meaning this blood was still coming. The rawness in his nether regions was overpowering his ability to feel the flow of blood.
Calling to mind some vague idea from England that blood coming from places it shouldn't tended to indicate sure death, America's mind raced. Hadn't England told him anything useful, other than horror stories? "England, where are you?" he whimpered. "If you'd been here, this wouldn't be happening!" Surely, the country could have prevented this!
Only...England had chosen not to be here. Imagining him as some savior would be no help, and more importantly, in wasting time wishing his guardian was here, instead of doing something, America was probably going to wind up dead.
"What am I even doing, trying to find something to clean this mess?" In all likelihood he was shitting blood, and still, he was more concerned over not defiling the furnishings that England was so fond of, which were so useless to America but for which he took care of because they were England's. "This has to be the stupidest thing I've ever done," he fretted, moving on to where the spare bedding was kept. Not to find something to swab up the increasing mess--America grabbed the first thing he saw, and lowered himself to the floor, so he could find out for sure just where the blood was coming from. It took less than a minute to discover this was as bad as he'd been expecting, and renewed fear made him light-headed.
He didn't know how to stop this kind of bleeding. With no idea what else he could do, he pulled more blankets down from the shelves, so at the very least, he wouldn't be in direct contact with the cold, hard floor. As he was crouching, dizziness came over him. He leaned forward, so he was on hands and knees, and his head cleared enough for him to then realize something warm was streaming down his thighs. It wasn't blood.
This was officially the most disgusting thing he'd ever witnessed.
***
Childishly, America hoped if he kept still, the bleeding might stop.
It didn't, of course, and he only got pins and needles from holding himself up. Breathing shallowly, he again leaned forward, stretching his arms ahead in a half circle till his forehead was resting against the floor. The position was clumsy, but his back hurt less for it, as the pain lowered and settled in his abdomen and haunches. Hands clenching the blankets beneath him, America whimpered as the pain went from prickling and throbbing to searing agony, like his insides were ripping apart of their own accord.
He was sweating and groaning as the tearing sensation intensified. If he was dying of whatever this was, it could at least have the decency to kill him faster, instead of letting the torture linger on. Again, he wanted England--and then America started feeling absolute rage. "I'm...spending...my last hours...alone...on a floor...bleeding out," he grunted. Wheezing, he closed his eyes; the fluid kept coming in rushes, he'd lost track of how much was water and how much was blood. Through gritted teeth, America growled, "He's getting an easy out. He's not ever going to know what I'm enduring. Goddamn you, England!" He had never sworn before in his life. More than anything, America just wanted to make his guardian feel a fragment of the pain he was going through.
As the pain went on without respite, America yowled involuntarily, whenever he could take enough consecutive breaths to make any noise. Why wasn't anything happening? At this point, he'd be grateful to die, if only to have this torment stop!
Then something else did happen, and unbelievably, it was pain beyond everything he'd been through today. Rocking from side to side, America gripped desperately at the blankets. His back spasms returned in full force, to join the tearing agony, as he bled and sweated and gasped for air. There was a burning in his backside. He felt like he was being split open. He couldn't take a full breath, he couldn't scream. Whatever was happening to him was completely out of his control. Shaking so hard he was more convulsing, America pounded his fists on the floor as the horrific burning continued. An incoherent stream of profanity and pleading was going through his mind, and at the point where he was sure his body was going to give out and he'd be dead--everything suddenly ceased. All America was left with was intense throbbing.
Prying relentlessly and only getting portions of his brother's story frustrated Canada. By nature, America over shared information; any instance where he kept a tight lid on things elicited worry out of Canada, no matter how inconsequential the matter appeared.
"After Virginia...? You...you at least wrote to England, to tell him what happened to you, right? To tell him about her?"
"What for?" America had been sweeping the kitchen floor and stopped now, like Canada's question was completely illogical.
"Because it was a huge deal?"
America finished sweeping (using noticeably more force than was necessary) and washed his hands. He grabbed a baby bottle out of the refrigerator. A pan filled with water had already been heating on the stove top, and he plunked the bottle in, then kept watch on it, all the while with his back to his brother.
Rolling his eyes, Canada reflected on how much he hated it when America went into a sulking fit at being presented with common sense. "England would have been back over the second he'd heard the news. Why did it take you so long to tell him? Holding out for maximum guilt trip?"
America muttered something.
"What?"
"Dick move." He remained standing sentry before the stove.
Canada was surprised; America's insults were pretty pathetic and something like this, while not being his style, was more the type of jab he'd throw out nearing the end of an argument, not at the start of one. "What do you mean, dick move? I'm pointing out something you're refusing to explain!"
"Why should I explain anything? If I don't want to bring up certain things, that's my business."
Not wanting to let it go, Canada snapped, "Having another nation's child is not something you just don't talk about."
"It is if you're a country and you're obligated to the needs of your people, instead of to the things you want."
"You were England's colony! Your people were his people!"
"And where do you think he was? He was back home! It takes time to get anywhere, by ship, and at that time they couldn't just send one whenever. There was no guaranteeing England would even be able to get on any ships making the journey, if his boss didn't allow it. So what was I supposed to do? Tell him in a letter that I'd somehow had a kid? He would have worried and not been able to do anything about it, and I didn't want him finding out by a note. I was waiting for him to come back to tell him."
Canada had not considered the time period differences. He was kicking himself for forgetting such a glaring fact. If placed in America's situation, he'd want the same thing--to give the news in person.
America lifted the bottle out of the pan, and pushed back one of his sleeves so he could drip-test the temperature on his inner forearm. "If you're done deciding for me, what was a big deal and what wasn't, out of all the things that have happened to me, you might try thinking of how I've survived everything--so I'm aware of the seriousness. Pointing that out after it's over and done with isn't going to help me. You getting personally pissed off by it won't do any good either." America turned off the stove and stalked out of the kitchen, to feed Hawaii.
Intending to just leave his brother alone until the sting of embarrassment faded, Canada's resolve was tested by hearing Hawaii's squalling in the next room. Canada had been around enough baby states to recognize when their crying directly resulted from picking up that their father was stressed or upset.
***
America hid Virginia's identity from everyone. The house was far away enough from the nearest settlement that no one bothered America, if he stayed close to home, and when he did mingle among the citizens, people were coming and going and it was so hectic everywhere, no one recognized America twice as being the same child.
The countries who came looking for England accepted it when America said he was minding Virginia for citizens he knew from the settlement. France and Spain stayed overnights without making the connection between baby and colony, something that should have been a relief for America but only left him anxious. If his all-countries-being-capable-of-childbearing theory stood, why wasn't anyone at least wondering if the little girl was England's? The subject never coming up gave America a greater urge to keep it secret. He'd seen how people got when other people were accused of doing impossible things; America could only imagine how much further countries could take that sort of fear.
The letters that came sparingly from England were dispassionate and businesslike. America found out more from other countries on what his guardian was up to, then he did from England himself.
Being on his own to raise Virginia, America managed by self-teaching himself things--like sewing, the basics of which he figured out by examining all the clothes in the house--and by getting advice from citizens. Implying Virginia was the "daughter of a friend" who was poor, America asked how his "friend" could get clothes for the child (his fledgling skills not being enough, as Virginia grew older, to create proper clothing for a little girl out of his and England's clothes). He was directed to households where the men were away, working, and where there were women willing to do sewing in exchange for wild game. He only needed to resort to doing this a couple of times a year, and he never went to the same people more than once, which helped with his trying-not-to-recognized ruse.
***
Curiously, a letter not from England came on one of the ships. This excited America until he opened it; reading was not a strong point of his. To make things more difficult, the handwriting in this letter was elaborate and the writer had used cross-hatching. With writing over writing, America could barely make out anything of the contents.
It was a letter to England. "This person intends to visit here," he read aloud to Virginia. It didn't sound like they were asking, there was a definite "be ready" included. "It's...actually pretty rude." Was this someone who didn't like England? If so, why were they coming to see him?
"Who's visiting?" his daughter asked. She had reached the point where she could start and carry on a conversation a few years back, and this seriously had America considering leaving her at home, when he went into the settlement. She looked older now than he'd been, when he was fending for himself before meeting England.
America flipped the letter over, scanning through it. "Netherlands?" The name was going to mean nothing to his daughter, but America remembered that this was the person who drove off Sweden, when countries were starting to come over here and claim the land.
There was no way to stop Netherlands from coming, so America chose to worry about the country meeting Virginia. He instructed her to speak as little as possible to Netherlands, planning on using his usual story--that the girl was a daughter of a family America was friendly with. It had worked on the others, why shouldn't it work on Netherlands as well?
Except when Netherlands showed up, there was something more discerning in his eyes that America had not seen with Spain or France. Netherlands stared at Virginia for a minute or two, before uneasily turning to America. "Where's England?"
"He's not here."
"When's he gonna be back?"
"He didn't say."
This got a frown out of the country, who appeared annoyed. "He left you alone?" He again looked at America's daughter. "Who's the girl?"
"Just a visitor. I'm taking care of her for a few days."
"I told England I was coming, why did he leave?"
"He's been gone. He never got your letter." He'd been hoping Netherlands would have information on England, but that wasn't looking likely, if he hadn't even known the best way of contacting England was to send mail to his home, not to his colony.
Netherlands turned to leave.
"You're...going?"
"England's not here, there's no reason for me to stay."
America had no idea what came over him. "It's hours from the settlement. You just got here. You won't even stay the night?"
Netherlands paused. He turned around. His eyes fell back on little Virginia, and he looked truly confused. America didn't know if he suspected the truth about the child, or if something else entirely was on his mind, but he nervously hoped Netherlands would guess about Virginia. He was tired of keeping this secret, and for all he knew, maybe if he told another country, they could get word to England that he really needed to visit his colony again, soon.
"Well--what's one night? I'd only spend it drinkin', back at the ship."
***
The country made no moves on the colony. America had to initiate everything. He didn't even know why he was trying to get into Netherlands's bed--the country intimidated America a little, and he hadn't liked doing this the first time he tried it.
At first he relied on his cuteness, saying he didn't like sleeping alone.
"So sleep with the other kid. She's in the right age range for you, isn't she?"
Miffed--he was young, but he did not look like a six-year-old!--America said, "You're older, I'd feel safer being with you."
"Stop being such a pansy and let me sleep. Goddamn, I should have gone back after all. Fuckin' children."
America took this as an invite and forced his way into Netherlands's bed. Netherlands rolled over, grumbled, and lay still. America didn't do anything for several moments, then tried groping the country.
Netherlands sat up, startled. "Kid--what the hell? How old are you, ten? Twelve?"
"I do this with England all the time," America lied.
"You do this...with England?"
"Yeah."
"All the time?" Netherlands sounded doubtful.
"Uh huh."
This seemed to change Netherlands's mind, and he let the colony go back to exploring his body. When he found out America didn't know what to do--England had rushed straight through to the sex--Netherlands took the lead, but he wasn't much better than America's guardian, though he did try to prepare America for what he intended to do.
At the first sensation of Netherlands's fingers entering him, America stiffened, briefly panicking. How the hell could this hurt? He'd given birth, even if that was years ago, a baby was a lot bigger than a few fingers!
Netherlands stopped, noticing America's tension. "You said you do this with England, what's the problem?"
"Nothing...nothing. He...didn't..." America tried to breath normally and gripped the bedsheets, willing himself to stop resisting the country's moves.
"He didn't do anything beforehand? Selfish jackass." As if wanting to prove he was better in bed than the other country, Netherlands started over, using only one finger. He went slowly and took a good deal of time to stretch America, gradually working in more fingers. Though he was trying to be careful, Netherlands seemed unused to being gentle; his attempts with America were painful to the colony, not pleasurable. It barely felt better than that time with England, and the only improvement was that America could at least breath easily after adjusting to Netherlands's fingers jabbing into him.
Netherlands took America's calmness for approval and removed his fingers. The heat from Netherlands's body warmed America's back as America pressed his face to his pillow, waiting for Netherlands to make the next move.
It was worse than he'd been expecting--America held his breath, clenched at the pillow, and was dismayed to realize Netherlands wasn't even in all the way.
The country swore, paused, pressed on. In jarring starts and stops, he forced himself into America.
America whimpered, wanting this over with.
Netherlands either didn't notice or didn't care. He started thrusting into America, the bumping pinning the colony into the mattress. He couldn't think straight to push Netherlands off; the country's swearing was scaring America senseless. He didn't know if the almost burning feeling of Netherlands's body felt worse than the burning he was inflicting, down below.
The general nature of a personification is that it appears, rather than is born. A creature not born--and having no parents--must be instilled with survival means, and even a personification not following the usual creation process, who is born of two other personifications, will have abilities that humans lack. These advantages are no guarantee of success. They only serve as a starting point for a personification to move up from, where a human--if forced to survived solo as an infant--would, without a doubt, die.
Virginia Jones grasped details, but she could not clearly see the whole picture. It was too big for her (and what was she, if her father represented all the people that had come to this land?)
Children from the settlement had two parents, a man and a woman; Virginia had America, who was one person and a boy. America was her father but he made Virginia call him "Alfred," so people would think they were brother and sister; children of the settlers were never allowed to call their parents by first name. The settlers needed a group of people and several days to get projects done; America could do the work of three of them in a single day.
Many things did not make sense to her, but Virginia had no trouble understanding that no one was to ever know she was America's child, or terrible things would happen to them both.
***
In many ways, America felt more like an older brother than a father to Virginia. Maybe it was because she wasn't allowed to call him father, or because America looked so inexplicably young. He took care of her, he was the only guardian she'd ever known--but he didn't feel like a parent.
It had always been just the two of them. That was what Virginia was used to.
Netherlands disrupted the life Virginia and America had. Worse, he didn't even bother sticking around for America, when in the days and weeks afterward, something had clearly changed with him.
He got clingy. He made Virginia sleep in his bed, when she hadn't slept with him since she was three. He seemed to have lost the will to do much of anything these days and kept asking her what she wanted to do. She didn't get why he asked, when he just fell asleep no matter what they were doing, or withdrew early to go eat something. Virginia was seriously wondering if she was going to have to start looking after him, with how spacey America had become, when he asked her if she had ever wanted a little brother or sister.
Which explained the weight gain, but she wondered what America would have done if she'd said no, she didn't want a sibling.
***
Now that it was plain to see that the baby causing America's stomach to swell was also the reason for America's newfound weariness, Virginia felt a sense of obligation to help him. The baby was clearly a hindrance! But hopefully once it was born--and America was free from its obnoxious influence--America would be himself again. A baby brother or sister would be fine, added to their lives, once everything was back on track.
And it wasn't like Netherlands was going to come back to protect America and the baby.
Virginia's intentions were good, but in hindsight, she had to admit she started off too ambitiously; doing smaller things for America would have been more useful, because the rifle incident turned America into a nervous wreck and instead of just being exhausted and worried about the coming baby, he was exhausted and worrying over everything.
***
What happened was a bear wandered near the house one day.
America always told Virginia not to bother animals and they wouldn't bother her, but Virginia had seen America fire his rifle many times and he'd taught her how to skin and gut animals--what if she took down this bear? Imagine how much trouble she'd be saving him! It would be forever before he'd have to hunt anything again!
As soon as the rifle was in her hands, she got a guilty premonition that this was not something that would make America in any way happy. Still, she really wanted to use the firearm herself.
"Stay in the yard!" she hissed at the bear. It was looking in another direction. The animal was so close that Virginia could see the shagginess of its coat. Its patchy fur wasn't pretty like that of the smaller game America hunted.
The rifle was heavy and a little more than half Virginia's height, in length. Awkwardly holding it, she aimed it at the bear, while trying to get a decent grip and at the same time, be able to shoot. She couldn't hold the rifle steady--then it slipped.
Virginia tightened her hold to keep it from falling, and the rifle fired before she meant to fire it.
It jerked backward, the butt of the weapon slamming painfully into her chest. She was knocked onto the ground. Deafened momentarily by the blast, she felt the gun suddenly hot and burning her hands, but she couldn't drop the firearm like she wanted to; it was stuck to her skin. Or her hands were unable to unclench.
"Virginia!"
She sat up and watched as the bear shuffled away.
"Virginia! What the hell? What happened?!" America reached her, prying the rifle out of her grip. He cursed when he saw her hands. "I told you never to touch that rifle! What were you thinking?"
"There was a bear in the yard," Virginia told him, faintly.
"Oh, Virginia, one shot wouldn't kill a bear. This isn't the right time of year to preserve meat, and I don't think I could dry something that big. Even if I could, neither of us would want to be eating it for months."
He carried her into the house and made her soak her hands in egg whites. She didn't tell him about the rifle hitting her in the chest.
Virginia's hands healed quickly, since America had attended to them immediately, but where the rifle had struck her left a bruise that took weeks to fade. Virginia poked at it in the days afterward, using the pain to remind herself not to do foolish things that would only scare America, instead of help him.
***
There had already been a lot America wouldn't let Virginia do, because of how small she was, and the impulsive stunt she'd pulled seemed to convince him that he was not being protective enough. To remedy this, he barely allowed her in the kitchen, he repeatedly warned her against getting too close to the fireplace, he wouldn't let her go with him to get wood, when he was swinging around an ax. Virginia had to settle for straigtening up rooms, bringing water to the house, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals they kept, so that when America went to take care of these chores, he found them already done.
And although he hugged her every time and said what a helpful child she was being, Virginia felt she was not doing enough.
America seemed depressed.
She had thought it was just more of him being tired. On days America was especially busy, he seemed almost unable to move when he finally stopped working. Then Virginia noticed America went from eating all the time to hardly eating at all. She thought it was from the vomiting--she wouldn't want to eat either, if it was making her throw up!--but there were nights America wouldn't let her sleep in his bed, and then he wouldn't leave his bedroom the next day. Sometimes he'd stay in there for longer than a day, but he couldn't make it past two; even if he didn't want to eat, the baby seemed to be keeping him from outright stopping.
During these days, Virginia was tempted to do things which America ordinarily wouldn't allow. Not wanting to upset him, she resisted.
***
Maybe he was sad that Netherlands hadn't come back?
Virginia did not like sharing America. She resented the people who rarely visited him and even more rarely stayed over, but none of these did she hate with the animosity she felt for the spiky-haired man that America had blown her off for.
That being said...Netherlands was an adult. The most company America had was Virginia, a child. The difference had to count for something, as much as she'd rather not admit.
"Why isn't Netherlands here?" she asked, when America annoyed her one day by falling asleep while reading to her. She hadn't wanted him reading to her; he was slow and often mixed up or skipped words, changing the entire meaning of the story. Virginia wanted to do other things, but of course America was "too tired." Why couldn't the baby hurry up and be born? It made just being close to America an absolute pain--America often hugged or held Virginia close to him, but he'd gained a lot of weight from the baby, and it kicked and jabbed constantly. How had America not been driven crazy by the agitation?
America lost his place in the book. Trying to find it again, he said distractedly, "You didn't like Netherlands. Why do you care that he's not here?"
She was a personification. She had abilities children normally did not possess. However, in spite of this, Virginia was also a little girl. Articulating that she'd been ignored in favor of someone who couldn't be bothered to stay was beyond Virginia's current skills, though she was hurt by it. Because she could not explain this, she settled for sulking visibly in America's arms.
"He's gone, you probably won't be seeing him again." America hugged her. Tiny feet or elbows pressed into Virginia's back.
She pulled away from the affectionate hold--and the baby's abuse--to glare at America defiantly. "You said he was gone. Is he or is he not?"
"He is gone!"
"But you said probably. Why did you say that if you know for certain he's gone?"
He had that look he got whenever he didn't know the answer to something she'd asked. America loathed having to admit uncertainty.
"Well?" It used to be he'd never let her speak this way to him! He'd tell her why it was wrong and warn her not to do it again. The indulgence had been fun at first. Now Virginia just wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before.
America pulled her close again, resting his chin on her head--which was the same position he'd managed to fall asleep in, so Virginia was instantly suspicious. "It takes two people to have a baby."
"But I only have you!"
"No, you don't. You have me and England. Someday you'll meet him."
England was the country who was in charge of all this land. He was even in charge of her father. He must be very powerful. "When? When will I meet him?"
"I can't say. He has to oversee a lot of places, and it takes time to get everywhere. It may be a long time before we see him again."
She wanted to point out she'd never seen England at all, but America sounded sad, so Virginia let him keep holding her. The baby squirmed some more, stretching the already taut skin of the mound of America's belly, and Virginia again wondered how much longer it would be till her little brother or sister arrived. The baby couldn't possibly have any room left in there.
***
In an apartment in Arlington, Virginia Jones was laying newspaper in the bottom of a parakeet cage when the phone rang.
This was a call Virginia had been dreading, but she knew it was coming--her father had been lying low for too many months to keep up with not sticking his nose into everyone else's business. She just knew he was going to ignore anything she said, and Virginia herself couldn't muster up the optimism to hope the rumors concerning Khrushchev might be unfounded.
Ready for an argument, Virginia answered the phone with, "I'm surprised it took you this long to call."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh. New York. I was waiting on a call from someone else."
"Is this a bad time? I can call later."
"No, stay on the line. I don't want to talk to them."
Her little brother laughed. It was a sudden, sharp sound that cut off too soon, making him sound irritatingly cocky. "I just got a call from Uncle Matthew."
As the baby continued weighing down America, he acted even more oddly. Virginia's questions of, "When is the baby going be here?" and, "Is it safe for the baby if you're doing that?" were met by America absently telling Virginia she was too young to be worrying about such matters.
He snapped out of his tired and depressed state, becoming energetic for the first time in months. Losing interest in coddling his daughter, he gained an obsession with cleaning the house. Virginia was not sorry for this exchange; she was rejoicing over the lack of supervision and getting some breathing space from America.
She wasn't happy long. America's new fixation was focusing on things that didn't need cleaning. How far he was taking this was worrisome.
"What are you doing?" she asked, having rushed into a room after hearing loud scraping noises, to find America dragging a heavy writing table away from the wall.
"Cleaning."
"You never use that thing. Why do you need it cleaner than it already is?"
"There was dust underneath it. I couldn't reached under there to clear it away, the baby won't let me bend like that."
"You could have called me to do it." She thought it was an unnecessary task, but it made her nervous, seeing America unable to hold still. What would happen to the baby if America was bumping into things, or knocking things down on himself? Virginia privately believed her little brother or sister was extraordinarily stupid, if the things America was compelled to do because of it were proof of anything, but her sibling didn't need to be made stupider, by their father's actions.
America glared at the desk like he wanted to break it into pieces, not sweep away dust from beneath it. "I'm cleaning it myself, that way I know it's clean. It needs to be spotless."
"Why?"
"Because I won't have time to do it after the baby's here."
"But the baby's not going to use anything in this room. It's barely going to use anything in this house."
"You couldn't possibly understand, Virginia," America told her, in his I'm-the-parent-and-you're-the-child-even-if-I-don't-let-you-call-me-father voice, the one he used whenever he was trying to be impressive. It never lived up to the conviction. "If you have time to ask questions, you have time to help me."
"You just said you didn't want me cleaning."
"Well, bring me the broom then. You're faster than me."
"It's right behind you." If this flightiness lasted after the baby came, her poor brother or sister wouldn't survive a week under America's care.
***
America hadn't been making Virginia sleep with him in the last weeks--America had been too uncomfortable no matter how he lay or sat in bed. He kept getting up and walking around, which would have kept her from sleeping. So when he did not leave the bedroom one morning, Virginia was not sure if America had worn himself out with all the cleaning he'd been doing, or if America had sunk back into his low spirits.
She left him alone most of the day. By evening, she decided to knock on his door and at least see if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He'd been in there since the night before.
Approaching the room, she heard groaning. "Alfred?" she called, alarmed--it took a lot for America to notice he was hurt. What could possibly have happened to him? "Are you alright?"
The pained noises stopped, followed by a muffled, "Fuck!", then America tersely yelled, "What is it?" He was out of breath.
"What's wrong? Can I come in--"
"No! Don't come in here! Go to bed, leave me alone for a while. If I need you, I'll call you."
"But you're--"
"I don't need you underfoot right now!"
It must be the baby. Well, it was about time. Virginia didn't leave, but she compromised by not going into the room, and sat in the hallway, without letting America know she was still there.
For a long time, she heard nothing but America's ragged breathing. Virginia's legs grew painfully numb. Irrationally, she felt that if she moved, even to stretch, America would become aware of her presence. Every time he made a noise in the bedroom, moaning or whimpering, Virginia tensed up, holding her breath. How long was this going to take? When had it started?
***
Against her will, Virginia was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
She pinched the skin on her wrists. She dug her nails into her palms. She tried not blinking, but her eyes got dry, she'd have to blink, and her eyes would then shut for too long. Falling asleep and waking up--sometimes within seconds--was making her jumpy.
A yelp from the bedroom scared Virginia wide awake. Was something wrong? America hadn't been that loud before, why was he now? She listened hard; all that came next was more heavy breathing and groaning. Eventually, even that died down, and she couldn't hear anything.
Virginia had calmed and was getting sleepy again when a new noise made her jump: it was enraged screaming, and it was not America who was doing it.
It felt like hours before the wailing stopped, though Virginia knew it couldn't have been that long. When America quit moving around in the bedroom, Virginia got to her feet. She waited for the numbness to leave her, as she worked up the nerve to open the door and check on America--she hadn't dared try while she knew for a fact he was awake.
***
To Virginia's relief, America was asleep, exactly as she'd guessed he'd be. He looked alright, just dead tired.
Emboldened by the thought that America probably lacked the energy to yell at her if she woke him up, Virginia sat on the bed beside him to get a closer look at the baby. She couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Wrapped in a sheet and curled up on America's chest so its face was pressed against America's skin, there was almost no part of the baby that was visible. Its cheek looked bruised; there were delicate spider veins spreading across the skin.
She wanted to see if the spider veins were all over its face, but poking the baby at first did nothing, then made it angrily rub its face hard at America's chest. Which woke America.
"Hey, stop poking your baby brother," he mumbled. He was too tired to even keep his eyes opened.
Virginia didn't say anything, afraid America was going to order her out, but he reached for her, pulling her to him, and lying next to her father, Virginia stared at her baby brother some more, as America went back to sleep.
***
New Netherland was an ugly little thing who, for the first several weeks of his life, resembled a skinned animal more than a child. Somehow, he managed to look unimpressed by everything his father and older sister did. He even sneered in his sleep.
Virginia adored him, even if he'd been given a ridiculous name. For all New Netherland's outward contrariness, he was the calmest baby Virginia and had ever seen. He only cried when he was hungry. The rest of the time, he was content with lying like a boneless lump against his sister.
America thought it was sweet how devoted Virginia was to her brother. But when he could only get New Netherland back to feed him, America found the situation losing its charm.
"Go play outside," he snapped one day at Virginia.
"Can I bring New Netherland with me?"
"Of course not. Leave him here."
"Then I'm staying inside."
"You're a child. Go act like one!"
"You're a child too," Virginia sassed, even though America did not look that young anymore. No one in the settlement would have believed him to be Virginia's father, but the age gap between them appeared larger, and it was going to look considerably less suspicious, Virginia--and now the new baby--being under America's supervision.
"Give me my son," America commanded. For the first time that Virginia could recall, he looked displeased with her.
She handed her brother over. She was willing to push limits with her father, but there was only so far she'd go.
***
In Arlington, Virginia ended her call with New York. She stay near the phone, in case Canada was planning to call her next.
America spent the entirety of his second pregnancy positive he hated his unborn baby.
By turns, the colony was resentful and self-pitying--his bewilderment over how he could be pregnant was brought back full force, with no resolution to be had. He felt guilty for not paying more attention to his daughter. He was so tired that not a day went by without him wanting to cry from being so worn out. Some days America couldn't get up and do what needed to be done. On good days, he'd be able to do the essential, still have time for Virginia, and only catnap for a few minutes while with her. When he had time to rest, contradictorily, he was overwhelmed with urges to clean, or do other more practical things like read to his daughter or fuss over her clothes and the clothing he intended to use for the baby.
Virginia was getting big enough to semi care for herself, and America couldn't help thinking he should have been closer to having some of his freedom back, not needing to restart the routine! He tried to remember that the baby hadn't asked to be conceived, it was his and Netherlands's own stupid fault--but with all that was pervading America's thoughts, he wondered if there'd be any way he wouldn't take his unhappiness out on his poor child.
***
He felt so awful after delivering New Netherland that for a while, America forgot to feel guilty for not being happy about the new baby.
Having Virginia hadn't been this bad. Maybe he'd been in shock at the time and had forgotten how it had gone, or this baby was bigger and hurt worse, or he'd bled more with it, but America was only able to wipe the mess from the birth into a heap of bloody, dampened sheets before collapsing into bed, the baby on his chest. He might have passed out. Later, he became aware that Virginia was in the room and on the bed next to him, bothering the baby, who--from the pain America was feeling--had taken it upon himself to try to get a meal out of America.
Breastfeeding grossed out America more than pregnancy had. It was completely illogical, seeing how much he'd already done that was unnatural, but America didn't want to prolong what his body had been undergoing.
His inclination was to straightaway pry off the newborn. America was tired though, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get up any time soon. He let the baby continue nursing, intending to sleep and, when he was feeling more alert, instruct Virginia to milk the goat and start feeding the baby on that.
This wasn't a good idea.
When America cut off the supply to New Netherland, more than a day had gone by. America's body was not getting the hint that he didn't want to breastfeed, and New Netherland did not appreciate a glove full of goat secretion being shoved into his face. Virginia took over trying to get her brother to swallow the goat's milk, as America crossed his arms over his aching chest. After two days, America couldn't take anymore--it was scaring him how the baby was vomiting up anything they got into him. The way things were going, the newborn was going to choke to death before he could starve.
The hell with indignity. America didn't want his baby suffering.
Knowing that even in the lowest moments of his resentment, he didn't wish any harm on this second child eased America's guilt. Within days, he forgot that he'd ever felt any unhappiness toward the baby.
***
He still wasn't happy, but feeding the baby and arguing with Virginia exhausted America so much that he was in too much of a daze to recognize he was feeling discontentment.
This trance-like state lasted until the day America heard the door to the house open and he was greeted by not Virginia's voice but England's. The country was calling America's name and then saying something about tea as America--for the first time in months feeling something other than dreariness--headed for his guardian, overjoyed that England had returned. His children were the furthest thing from his thoughts as England stammered in shock over how much America had grown, and America didn't even care that he was acting like an overeager puppy as he threw himself at England.
"You got so big!" England finally managed to voice coherently.
"You were gone a long time!" America responded, accusingly.
"I was. I'm sorry." England hugged America tightly, and America got why England had been so stunned--he was actually a little taller than England now. When had that happened? He remembered when England left, hadn't he only come up to England's chest then?
For a few minutes, America experienced bliss, in the comfort of England's embrace. Everything was going to be alright, America was certain; England could fix all of America's worries: Virginia's disobedience, how exhausting caring for the baby was, all the hiding America had had to do from the countries and his citizens, how he was going to continue providing for his children now that there were two. All that was over now.
Or so he thought. America hadn't considered he might be investing too much faith in England.
Virginia walked into the room, carrying her baby brother. Confused over why her father was hugging this man she'd never seen before, she simply stared at England, who, for his part, took one look past America at Virginia and couldn't not notice that this child had suspiciously similar eyebrows and eye coloring.
England let go of America and lost all coherency once again. America was wondering how badly England was going to take this when England was able to quit stammering and nervously demanded, "Who are these two? You know the settlers aren't supposed to be here! Why are you inviting them to the house? How often have you done this?"
Damn. That bit of happiness had been short lived. "They live here."
"What would possess you to do such a thing?"
"Relax, they're not settlers."
"Then what are they?" England appeared to be in no mood for games.
In America's defense, this wasn't a game. It had been so long since he'd seen England that he'd never bothered to think how he was going to break the news of Virginia to the country. "They're mine," he answered, deciding being short and to the point would be best, in this situation.
"Yours. Funny. Whose are they really?"
"They're mine. Seriously." America was a little concerned that England wasn't believing him.
England gave America an impatient look like this was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard anyone say. "You took in settler children? Has it even occured to you just how bad an idea that is? Where did you get them from? They need to go back!"
"Go back?" Virginia said. "I'm not going anywhere, this is my home! Why don't you go back? Alfred, why is this man yelling and giving orders? Who is he?"
For a moment, America thought England was going to direct his yelling at Virginia, but then he focused his gaze back onto America. "See how rude that one is? You're a bad influence already! Those children need to go to people who will discipline them!"
"I do not need discipline!"
"They're not going anywhere. When I said they're mine, I didn't mean I found them and took them in. They're mine."
He could tell England was trying to come up with any other possibility, rather than take America's words at face value. Did he truly not believe him, or did he just not want to believe him? "They're...yours?"
"Yes." Was he actually accepting it?
"You...had them? You did?"
"Yes."
Virginia frowned. "This is my father? He's England?" She glared at England. "Why are you yelling at America?" It was the first time she'd ever called her father by his real name.
England did not seem to hear his daughter. He was staring at America in shock. "Why aren't you dead?"
Unable to believe he'd heard right, America watched England uneasily, hoping he'd laugh awkwardly and say it was just a bad joke, or he'd apologize and try to help America figure out how this had happened.
Virginia was angered enough to challenge England's question when America could not. "Why would you say something like that? How dare you go on about rudeness, then ask him such a thing! What's your problem?"
Virginia wanted nothing to do with her other father. America got tired of trying to talk her into speaking with England, but once he left (taking New Netherland), his daughter followed anyway.
"Curiosity getting to you?" he asked, after realizing she was coming after all.
Her expression twisted into deeper grumpiness, and Virginia refused to speak. This was where America would ordinarily make a sarcastic remark about her not trusting him with the baby, but Virginia had every right to be mad--he'd told her he was kicking England out and now had gone back on his word. Better to leave her alone. She might warm up to the country after all of them got the answers they'd been wanting.
England had moved from the front of the house. America found him in the drawing room, not a room the colony used (he'd only even entered it in the last decade because he'd felt an unbearable need to clean it during one of his nesting episodes). The drawing room had nice wallpaper and rugs and America didn't want to take the chance of damaging anything in there, so he stayed out. It wasn't an interesting room and it was too formal for his personal comfort; England used it when he had official visitors over, or sometimes when other countries visited him.
They were all seated and America was expecting England to say something--anything--to Virginia, when England instead said, "I was thinking this business over and I can't say for certain, but I might know why--"
"Don't you have something to say to Virginia?" America interrupted. He wanted answers, but first he wanted his child to get the apology she was owed.
"I don't want him talking to me," Virginia objected. She looked so cranky that some of America's hostility lifted; when ill-tempered, Virginia resembled England remarkably. It made chastising her a struggle.
England faced Virginia, who huffily ignored him. He took in the features she had which matched his (eyes, eyebrows, facial shape), the clothes she wore that were stylish and well-maintained (unlike America's clothes), while her hair--the same color as America's--was brushed but otherwise left alone. "I'm sorry I haven't been around," England said. "I didn't know about you, and I'm not saying that in excuse, it was that I've had so many places I have to be that I didn't give your...father...the attention he deserved."
America was too insulted by the pause before England called him Virginia's father to note England was apologizing for the wrong offense. "You're not thinking of me as her mother, are you? I'm not a girl. You should know, even if we only once--"
"America, that is not an appropriate subject to speak of in front of a child!"
"Oh, and you were being appropriate before?"
"Why is he still here?" Virginia yelled, drowning out the voices of both her parents. Addressing America, she snapped, "He wants you dead! Make him go away!"
The baby woke up and looked irritated by the noise. America cradled his son, hoping he wouldn't start crying, and looked to England. "What you said? Your problem to deal with."
Trying to be patient, England said carefully, "I did not wish America dead."
Virginia wasn't letting it go. "Then why did you say what you did?"
"It was a lot to come back to. I wasn't expecting any of this. I...reacted badly."
"Reacted badly?" America echoed, unimpressed. He started unbuttoning his shirt.
"What are you doing, America?"
America stopped, surprised by England's sharpness. "What does it look like? Holding the baby, shirt opening, you can't figure it out for yourself?" He went back to undoing the buttons, then held New Netherland closer.
"Go do that somewhere else!"
There was an odd amusement to be had in his guardian choosing to be hung up over this, of all things, but America only got a few seconds of diversion; once New Netherland latched onto him, America was biting his lips at the tightness and prickling pain that started.
"New Netherland cries when he's hungry," Virginia abrasively informed England. "I doubt you'd be bothered, making a defenseless baby cry, but if you can't handle the sight of him eating, you can always go to another room yourself. It's not your home, that would be the polite thing to do."
"You may have built it, but it's America's now. You haven't done anything for it and he has."
They probably weren't going to be getting along anytime soon, so America intervened. "Stop arguing and start explaining. England--what do you know?"
He looked torn between reproaching his daughter and criticizing America, but England sighed and said, "This is just a theory. I can't prove anything. There's no way for me to know now what incantation I used, and for all I know, I could have cast it correctly and it worked, just not in any solution obvious to us."
"You're a witch?"
"Virginia, stop talking," America warned, before the child got any ideas. False accusations weren't a minor matter, and he didn't think he would ever become desensitized to witch-hunts or any other ways the settlers came up for dealing with the unnatural. "You used magic to do this, can't you use magic to find out what you did?"
"It doesn't work like that. There's a cost to using magic, and finding out exactly what you used isn't a strong enough reason to pay that cost."
"So you can't do anything. You can't answer anything."
"That's not true! I said I have a theory!"
Why were they in this room? The chairs were uncomfortable and America was having a harder time nursing his child due to all the shifting around he was doing. "Go on."
"The names of your children are the same as the names of the settlements. What was the reason for that?"
America wasn't really sure how to explain. "I didn't have many naming options, and what I did have, none seemed to fit either of them." Virginia was already a proper name, and with New Netherland, America had thought he'd been out of it from the birth and gotten some absurd, sentimental determination to name the baby after the other parent. In retrospect, the settlement's name had come to him, and just sounded right, where normal names had not.
"What if my attempt worked, but the way it worked was by changing things about you? You were already much stronger than established countries. What if your strength was being spread out?"
"What, like these two are supposed to protect me? How would that even be possible?" The time Virginia tried using his rifle flashed before America's eyes, and he refused to acknowledge there could have been any sense to that incident. His daughter had gotten carried away, children did stupid and dangerous things when they weren't being watched.
"Not literally. Virginia's mine, that one's Netherlands's--you've got something of ours, it would be stupid to allow harm to come to our assets."
How were his children an asset to anyone else? America loved his daughter and son, but they were responsibilities, and that was it. They weren't even the responsibilities of their other fathers! "You didn't know about Virginia till today. Netherlands still doesn't know about the baby. Neither of you have been any help, where does caring about what's yours come in? Your theory is wrong. Accept it, England, your spell failed. That's all."
Virginia stood up and gave England a dirty look. "You cursed my father?"
"Be grateful, you wouldn't exist if I hadn't."
"I'm grateful to him, not you!"
"You appreciate me after all! How nice." America was losing interest in this whole matter. So England had nothing, if that jumbled guesswork was anything to go by. Well, would concrete explanations have helped? He had children to take care of either way. A weird calmness was settling over America. It wasn't sleepiness and it was too nice to be apathy; he only felt it while nursing the baby.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" Virginia asked America.
Distantly, America answered, "I'm probably going to go to my room. Sitting on my bed would be better than sitting on this chair."
She grew red-faced and pointed at England. "About him!"
"Oh. Right. England, you're not sleeping with me. I might get pregnant again."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
UKUS and/or NetherlandsUS, shota and mpreg
(Anonymous) 2010-08-15 02:38 am (UTC)(link)Triggered by the birth of Alaska or Hawaii or through just random thought, one nation (anon's choice) finally does the math and realizes that America had to have been really, really, alarmingly, unacceptably young when his oldest states (then colonies) were born. He/she confronts America about it, and America either flashbacks to it or actively tells the tale.
Fluff not preferred for obvious reasons. Also, using bunny-hugging, buffalo-twirling baby!US is probably too creepy even for this request, so not THAT young. Other than that, go to town.
All is Not As it Seems - 1a
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:21 am (UTC)(link)Canada was family, so if something was wrong, he would have been informed. This aloofness must be voluntary--calling America's boss would give Canada no help. He tried calling America's states, but half of them mistook Canada for America over the phone and launched into furious complaints about their neighboring siblings. The others toyed with Canada, telling him their father was at such-and-such place or so-and-so's home. He must've made thirty calls before he caught onto their scheme, and he was so annoyed, he dropped the search for his brother, because if the states found it fine to play pranks on their uncle (and in the case of some of them, their other father) it wasn't likely that anything was amiss.
So after another six weeks of waiting, when Canada got a phone call from his brother one morning, demanding to know why Canada hadn't visited America's new baby, Canada was more angered than relieved.
"Where have you been?!"
"That's a no, then? Some uncle you're turning out to be!"
"You didn't answer my question. You took off without a word! I was worried about you!"
"You're not my mother." There was an abrupt pause, then a clacking noise, like America had set the phone down on a counter or tabletop. Canada could hear something going on in the background, but wasn't sure what it was. Then as quickly as he'd went away, America was back on the line. "But seriously, Canada, it's a lot easier for you to come see me than it is for me to go see you, with me having one kid under a year old and another not even two months."
A little calmer now, Canada asked, "If I visit you, will you explain what you've been up to since I've seen you last?"
"Oh, that? I went somewhere. Stayed with someone. I'm sworn to secrecy over it, so I can't tell you anything."
Canada glared at the phone, considering screaming into it at his brother. "Are you all right, at least?"
"I'm fine! Alaska's fine, Hawaii's fine--she's gotten really cute now! All the bruising has healed up, I can take her places and people fall all over themselves, complimenting her."
"Wait. Did you hold out on calling me because you were waiting for your kid to start looking cute?" He knew first-hand how bruised America's babies got, during delivery, and how it took weeks for them to heal up. Why in the world would that suddenly be an issue?
America laughed obnoxiously. "I'll see you soon!"
"I didn't say I was--"
The line went dead.
***
Because he was still worried, Canada gave in to America's demand, getting on the first flight he could finagle that day, and using every trick he had as a country to reach America's place. It was the next afternoon when he got into the state where America's first and main home was, and as he sat through a taxi ride, trying not to fall asleep, Canada felt about ready to kill his brother.
He was in the middle of collecting enough of the right currency to pay the driver when America attacked him from behind, hugging Canada in a mighty squeeze. "Mattie!" he shouted into Canada's ear, because the driver was still there and they didn't use real names in front of citizens.
"Please stop squishing me. I need to pay the driver."
America loosened his grip on Canada enough for Canada to hand over payment--the driver was giving them a strange look--but he didn't actually let go.
As the taxi drove off, Canada was dragged into the house.
All is Not As it Seems - 1b
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:22 am (UTC)(link)A crashing came from another room.
"--topple over so he can get out," America finished. He released Canada and rushed off.
Canada momentarily stood still, feeling the start of a headache, and wished he had stayed home.
***
He was able to beg off immediately visiting with Alaska and meeting Hawaii by pointing out just how much trouble it had been for him to get here this fast, and America shrugged and led Canada to a guest room.
As Canada lay on the bed, halfway between slumber and wakefulness, a thought hit him: America had fifty kids now.
In less than two hundred years.
"...how old was he when he had Virginia?"
The potential answer to this disturbed him so much that he was amazed he was even able to fall asleep.
***
After napping for a few hours, Canada's headache was averted, but he was still troubled over the subject of America's firstborn.
He found America in the living room, wrestling with little Alaska. The baby, Hawaii, was asleep, stomach-first on the couch.
"You're awake!" America had been trying to get a tiny pair of red pants on his son, but Alaska was putting up extreme resistance. At the sight of Canada, he stopped struggling, staring up at the nation with innocent blue eyes.
"Uh, yeah...so...this baby is Japan's?" Canada kneeled by the couch, tilting his head to better study the baby. She had pudgy cheeks, hair that stood on end, and pouty lips. Canada rubbed her back with his fingertips. "She's really cute!"
"I told you so." America succeeded in getting pants on Alaska, then let him wobble off.
"So..." Canada said.
"So," America said back.
"The reason you brought me here...?"
"I was bored."
Canada stared. "You...were...bored."
"Did you think Alaska and Hawaii were good conversationalists?"
Why was he even surprised? He knew America, he knew how America's method of operating worked--he should have expected to be invited here for completely trivial reasons. Canada went back to massaging Hawaii's tiny back, because this composed him and gave him less of an urge to go off at his brother. "Hey," he said, now remembering, "how old were you when you had Virginia?"
"Really young." America pulled over a laundry basket and started sorting through the clothing it held. It was all baby clothes.
"No, really. How old were you?"
"I'm not playing around. I'm not sure what my exact age was! At that time, I only ever knew what date it was when England was around. I know it was before the first time Netherlands visited me alone."
This was worse than he'd imagined. "You were really young then. Like, as in, little kid."
"Good thing I'm not human."
"That doesn't make it better!" He said this more loudly than he'd intended and he quickly looked down at Hawaii, hoping he hadn't woken her. She snuffled, shifted a little under his hand, and kept sleeping.
"How does that make it worse?" America asked, not getting Canada's outrage on his behalf. "I hit a growth spurt after the one time with England."
"England did you when you were a kid?!" How could he speak so calmly of this?
"He was really drunk. I didn't want him to leave again, so I thought if I could give him what France was giving him, he'd be happier with me and stay." America's voice remained casual, but he was twisting the fabric of the pastel onesie in his hands, rather than folding it to add to the pile of clothing he was working on. "It...didn't really work."
"I would hope not," Canada snapped.
"He was really horrified, after he sobered up. He said it was better if he wasn't around me, if he couldn't even control himself, and then...I didn't see him again for years."
"And what was Netherlands's excuse?"
"...I had a visitor and I didn't want him to leave?" Taking Canada's horror to be condemnation, America got defensive. "Hey, I was alone in this big house all the time! Do you have any idea how scary that is, when you're that young? You know I'm a people person, and having one child didn't make me feel less alone!"
All is Not As it Seems - 1c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:23 am (UTC)(link)Canada helplessly watched his brother, disgusted with himself for never having once asked about this, or doing the math for himself and coming to the obvious. And what of England and Netherlands? Why was it alright for them to use America, then leave him, and let him deal with the repercussions for their wrongdoing?
He got to his feet, and walked over to America, who looked up in surprise as he was tightly hugged. Appearing slightly unclear over what this was about, America nevertheless welcomed the affection, since it was rare that he didn't have to initiate intimacy.
***
Re: All is Not As it Seems - 1c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:40 am (UTC)(link)And I'm not fooling, reading some of America's responses made actual tears come to my eyes. I don't cry a lot, honestly, so this is kind of a big emotional reaction for me. In fact I have a feeling my mom would yell at me for crying over a story and not over IRL things but you're a better writer than *family member* is a *thing*.
Ah yeah, sorry for the awkward and tortured simile but you're REALLY good and this story is good and "since it was rare that he didn't have to initiate intimacy" made me wibble.
Re: All is Not As it Seems - 1c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 04:52 am (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 05:05 am (UTC)(link)Oh my God, I am so pleased. Thank you, anon!
Re: All is Not As it Seems - 1c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-16 05:09 am (UTC)(link)Re: All is Not As it Seems - 1c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-18 06:39 pm (UTC)(link)I'm going to hell for finding pre-teen mpreg!America sexy...All is Not As it Seems - 2a
(Anonymous) 2010-08-20 02:37 am (UTC)(link)He crawled into England's bed after the country had sprawled out there.
England thought America was being his usual affectionate self. "America, you're such a good child," he slurred, his arms wrapping around the colony. "All day, I just thought about you and wanted to come home to you."
This was the sort of thing America loved hearing, but what he was about to do had him too keyed up to appreciate the compliment; he had to offer some sort of bribe to keep England here. England would never go for this in normal circumstances. If America had learned anything from eavesdropping on his guardian, it was that the country was a huge pervert, and if England was getting sex here, he'd have everything he needed! There'd be no reason to ever go! He wouldn't even need to be around those other nations he so disliked.
England had other ideas, or was just too drunk to cooperate with America's amateur attempts. "Will you hold still?" he mumbled, brushing away America's hands. "I want to sleep."
America was getting impatient. "We don't have to sleep."
"Well, very well, you don't have to sleep, go do something else if you're not tired." The country still believed America's actions were innocent.
But it's hard to assume innocence of a person who starts kissing your lips while you're both lying in the same bed, and England stiffened in shock at America's advances. It was not until America tried removing England's clothing that the country finally gathered, in his muddled state, that something very wrong was happening. "America, I don't need your help getting my clothes off. I don't even need them off. I'm fine."
Though the colony was a child, he was still stronger than his guardian, and he used this to his advantage now, grabbing England's wrists and keeping him from being able to fend off America. "Pretend I'm France," he said. This pained him. He had thought it would be enough, giving himself to the country.
"What?"
"You like this sort of thing, don't you?"
"Not with children! America, you're being absurd and there's no way you can want this. Release me at once."
"No! I don't want you leaving again!" He didn't actually know what to do next, and with England's garbled protests and threats, America was under the impression that none of this was very appealing, but he refused to give up. "I do want this! Why don't you?"
"You are a child."
With a pout that didn't need to be faked, America said mutinously: "I can go to one of the nations you don't like, for this, if you won't give me what I want."
The bluff prevailed, but what happened next did not feel like a success to the colony--England's fumbling hurt like hell, America had to hold back his tears lest England stop, and afterward, the country passed out while America slipped off to attend to the mess trickling down his legs. It was revolting and he hurt even more now that it was over than he had during the act itself.
People liked doing that?
***
The plan backfired spectacularly. England was so disgusted with himself, that after checking to make sure he hadn't done lasting harm to America (who lied and said England hadn't hurt him), he stayed away from his charge, with the anguished statement that he "was a danger to America!"
America thought England would get over it if he just gave his guardian some space--he couldn't leave, especially now that they'd done that--so he was in for a daunting blow when England announced, feigning normalcy, that he was leaving again. Immediately.
He said he'd be back, but unlike the other times, England told America to become strong, which he'd never before felt the need to advise. This did not sound promising to America.
All is Not As it Seems - 2b
(Anonymous) 2010-08-20 02:38 am (UTC)(link)His whole world was falling apart, with England's departure, and in the aftermath, America went about in a haze, continually telling himself every day, "That's how England acts. He's always blustering over one thing or another. He said he'll be back, he can't stay gone."
Only he did. And as America believed his situation to be as downhill as was possible, somehow--things found a way of getting worse.
Sniffling and falling into outright crying fits, America kept the house in order, carrying out everyday routine. A weird, panicky, misery took hold of him. He worked at chores till his hands cramped too much to hold anything. His back seemed to stiffen up and was aching constantly. On days he was busy with activities that required little mobility, his feet hurt as badly as if he'd walked barefoot for days on jagged rocks. He had to have been being careless with how he was handling food, because he was getting sick, usually at night after he'd gotten into bed and had been lying down for a while.
When he started gaining weight, America wasn't too concerned, because he also was getting taller and he figured this was a growth spurt, something he was more than happy to have happen--all the better for when England came back! Except the weight increase was around his stomach only, and that didn't seem right for all the vomiting he'd been doing or how unstable his eating habits had become. As the bloating continued, he didn't stop feeling ill, though he spent less time throwing up. An odd churning kept happening within him, like his stomach had had enough and was turning on him in protest.
All of this went on for so long that America grew used to it.
***
After a particularly distressing day when he'd gotten stupidly upset over being hungry and not wanting to eat anything he had in the house, America ended up in bed early, curling up as best he could with his distended belly getting in the way, overtaken by a backache that was so intense he had been afraid he'd pass out if he stayed on his feet.
Out of exhaustion, he fell asleep. How long, he was not sure, but he woke up shaking and throbbing.
"What...? It's spreading?" Now his stomach was cramping as well, and unsteadily, America got out of bed. He supported himself against the frame, trying to work up the energy to at least leave the room to relieve himself, when he became aware of his nightshirt sticking to his backside. He was too tired and hurting too badly to feel embarrassment over having had an accident, but when he turned around and looked down at the bed, nothing prepared him for the sight of blood on the mattress.
"What...what...how...why is...there's..." He couldn't make sense of this, and his stammering turned to hyperventilating, as terrified, he touched the soiled part of his nightshirt, then looked at his fingers. "...blood? It's coming from me."
Lurching forward, America staggered out of the room. Focusing on dealing with the details helped him to not collapse on the floor and scream non-stop from sheer horror till he had no voice left, which was seeming like a great idea, all things considered. "Get out of this shirt. Wipe off the blood. Find out where it's coming from. Clean the bed." How could he be bleeding? And so much! Nothing had happened to him, the day before, to cause him to be injured. As he walked throughout the house, he noted his bloodied shirt wasn't getting cold--meaning this blood was still coming. The rawness in his nether regions was overpowering his ability to feel the flow of blood.
Calling to mind some vague idea from England that blood coming from places it shouldn't tended to indicate sure death, America's mind raced. Hadn't England told him anything useful, other than horror stories? "England, where are you?" he whimpered. "If you'd been here, this wouldn't be happening!" Surely, the country could have prevented this!
Only...England had chosen not to be here. Imagining him as some savior would be no help, and more importantly, in wasting time wishing his guardian was here, instead of doing something, America was probably going to wind up dead.
All is Not As it Seems - 2c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-20 02:40 am (UTC)(link)He didn't know how to stop this kind of bleeding. With no idea what else he could do, he pulled more blankets down from the shelves, so at the very least, he wouldn't be in direct contact with the cold, hard floor. As he was crouching, dizziness came over him. He leaned forward, so he was on hands and knees, and his head cleared enough for him to then realize something warm was streaming down his thighs. It wasn't blood.
This was officially the most disgusting thing he'd ever witnessed.
***
Childishly, America hoped if he kept still, the bleeding might stop.
It didn't, of course, and he only got pins and needles from holding himself up. Breathing shallowly, he again leaned forward, stretching his arms ahead in a half circle till his forehead was resting against the floor. The position was clumsy, but his back hurt less for it, as the pain lowered and settled in his abdomen and haunches. Hands clenching the blankets beneath him, America whimpered as the pain went from prickling and throbbing to searing agony, like his insides were ripping apart of their own accord.
He was sweating and groaning as the tearing sensation intensified. If he was dying of whatever this was, it could at least have the decency to kill him faster, instead of letting the torture linger on. Again, he wanted England--and then America started feeling absolute rage. "I'm...spending...my last hours...alone...on a floor...bleeding out," he grunted. Wheezing, he closed his eyes; the fluid kept coming in rushes, he'd lost track of how much was water and how much was blood. Through gritted teeth, America growled, "He's getting an easy out. He's not ever going to know what I'm enduring. Goddamn you, England!" He had never sworn before in his life. More than anything, America just wanted to make his guardian feel a fragment of the pain he was going through.
As the pain went on without respite, America yowled involuntarily, whenever he could take enough consecutive breaths to make any noise. Why wasn't anything happening? At this point, he'd be grateful to die, if only to have this torment stop!
Then something else did happen, and unbelievably, it was pain beyond everything he'd been through today. Rocking from side to side, America gripped desperately at the blankets. His back spasms returned in full force, to join the tearing agony, as he bled and sweated and gasped for air. There was a burning in his backside. He felt like he was being split open. He couldn't take a full breath, he couldn't scream. Whatever was happening to him was completely out of his control. Shaking so hard he was more convulsing, America pounded his fists on the floor as the horrific burning continued. An incoherent stream of profanity and pleading was going through his mind, and at the point where he was sure his body was going to give out and he'd be dead--everything suddenly ceased. All America was left with was intense throbbing.
All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 02:41 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 02:50 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 02:59 (UTC) - ExpandRe: w/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 03:01 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 03:40 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 03:51 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 03:55 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 22:01 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-20 22:50 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 2d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-21 00:18 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-21 01:32 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 3a
(Anonymous) 2010-08-29 05:32 am (UTC)(link)"After Virginia...? You...you at least wrote to England, to tell him what happened to you, right? To tell him about her?"
"What for?" America had been sweeping the kitchen floor and stopped now, like Canada's question was completely illogical.
"Because it was a huge deal?"
America finished sweeping (using noticeably more force than was necessary) and washed his hands. He grabbed a baby bottle out of the refrigerator. A pan filled with water had already been heating on the stove top, and he plunked the bottle in, then kept watch on it, all the while with his back to his brother.
Rolling his eyes, Canada reflected on how much he hated it when America went into a sulking fit at being presented with common sense. "England would have been back over the second he'd heard the news. Why did it take you so long to tell him? Holding out for maximum guilt trip?"
America muttered something.
"What?"
"Dick move." He remained standing sentry before the stove.
Canada was surprised; America's insults were pretty pathetic and something like this, while not being his style, was more the type of jab he'd throw out nearing the end of an argument, not at the start of one. "What do you mean, dick move? I'm pointing out something you're refusing to explain!"
"Why should I explain anything? If I don't want to bring up certain things, that's my business."
Not wanting to let it go, Canada snapped, "Having another nation's child is not something you just don't talk about."
"It is if you're a country and you're obligated to the needs of your people, instead of to the things you want."
"You were England's colony! Your people were his people!"
"And where do you think he was? He was back home! It takes time to get anywhere, by ship, and at that time they couldn't just send one whenever. There was no guaranteeing England would even be able to get on any ships making the journey, if his boss didn't allow it. So what was I supposed to do? Tell him in a letter that I'd somehow had a kid? He would have worried and not been able to do anything about it, and I didn't want him finding out by a note. I was waiting for him to come back to tell him."
Canada had not considered the time period differences. He was kicking himself for forgetting such a glaring fact. If placed in America's situation, he'd want the same thing--to give the news in person.
America lifted the bottle out of the pan, and pushed back one of his sleeves so he could drip-test the temperature on his inner forearm. "If you're done deciding for me, what was a big deal and what wasn't, out of all the things that have happened to me, you might try thinking of how I've survived everything--so I'm aware of the seriousness. Pointing that out after it's over and done with isn't going to help me. You getting personally pissed off by it won't do any good either." America turned off the stove and stalked out of the kitchen, to feed Hawaii.
Intending to just leave his brother alone until the sting of embarrassment faded, Canada's resolve was tested by hearing Hawaii's squalling in the next room. Canada had been around enough baby states to recognize when their crying directly resulted from picking up that their father was stressed or upset.
***
America hid Virginia's identity from everyone. The house was far away enough from the nearest settlement that no one bothered America, if he stayed close to home, and when he did mingle among the citizens, people were coming and going and it was so hectic everywhere, no one recognized America twice as being the same child.
All is Not As it Seems - 3b
(Anonymous) 2010-08-29 05:34 am (UTC)(link)The letters that came sparingly from England were dispassionate and businesslike. America found out more from other countries on what his guardian was up to, then he did from England himself.
Being on his own to raise Virginia, America managed by self-teaching himself things--like sewing, the basics of which he figured out by examining all the clothes in the house--and by getting advice from citizens. Implying Virginia was the "daughter of a friend" who was poor, America asked how his "friend" could get clothes for the child (his fledgling skills not being enough, as Virginia grew older, to create proper clothing for a little girl out of his and England's clothes). He was directed to households where the men were away, working, and where there were women willing to do sewing in exchange for wild game. He only needed to resort to doing this a couple of times a year, and he never went to the same people more than once, which helped with his trying-not-to-recognized ruse.
***
Curiously, a letter not from England came on one of the ships. This excited America until he opened it; reading was not a strong point of his. To make things more difficult, the handwriting in this letter was elaborate and the writer had used cross-hatching. With writing over writing, America could barely make out anything of the contents.
It was a letter to England. "This person intends to visit here," he read aloud to Virginia. It didn't sound like they were asking, there was a definite "be ready" included. "It's...actually pretty rude." Was this someone who didn't like England? If so, why were they coming to see him?
"Who's visiting?" his daughter asked. She had reached the point where she could start and carry on a conversation a few years back, and this seriously had America considering leaving her at home, when he went into the settlement. She looked older now than he'd been, when he was fending for himself before meeting England.
America flipped the letter over, scanning through it. "Netherlands?" The name was going to mean nothing to his daughter, but America remembered that this was the person who drove off Sweden, when countries were starting to come over here and claim the land.
There was no way to stop Netherlands from coming, so America chose to worry about the country meeting Virginia. He instructed her to speak as little as possible to Netherlands, planning on using his usual story--that the girl was a daughter of a family America was friendly with. It had worked on the others, why shouldn't it work on Netherlands as well?
Except when Netherlands showed up, there was something more discerning in his eyes that America had not seen with Spain or France. Netherlands stared at Virginia for a minute or two, before uneasily turning to America. "Where's England?"
"He's not here."
"When's he gonna be back?"
"He didn't say."
This got a frown out of the country, who appeared annoyed. "He left you alone?" He again looked at America's daughter. "Who's the girl?"
"Just a visitor. I'm taking care of her for a few days."
"I told England I was coming, why did he leave?"
"He's been gone. He never got your letter." He'd been hoping Netherlands would have information on England, but that wasn't looking likely, if he hadn't even known the best way of contacting England was to send mail to his home, not to his colony.
Netherlands turned to leave.
"You're...going?"
"England's not here, there's no reason for me to stay."
All is Not As it Seems - 3c
(Anonymous) 2010-08-29 05:35 am (UTC)(link)Netherlands paused. He turned around. His eyes fell back on little Virginia, and he looked truly confused. America didn't know if he suspected the truth about the child, or if something else entirely was on his mind, but he nervously hoped Netherlands would guess about Virginia. He was tired of keeping this secret, and for all he knew, maybe if he told another country, they could get word to England that he really needed to visit his colony again, soon.
"Well--what's one night? I'd only spend it drinkin', back at the ship."
***
The country made no moves on the colony. America had to initiate everything. He didn't even know why he was trying to get into Netherlands's bed--the country intimidated America a little, and he hadn't liked doing this the first time he tried it.
At first he relied on his cuteness, saying he didn't like sleeping alone.
"So sleep with the other kid. She's in the right age range for you, isn't she?"
Miffed--he was young, but he did not look like a six-year-old!--America said, "You're older, I'd feel safer being with you."
"Stop being such a pansy and let me sleep. Goddamn, I should have gone back after all. Fuckin' children."
America took this as an invite and forced his way into Netherlands's bed. Netherlands rolled over, grumbled, and lay still. America didn't do anything for several moments, then tried groping the country.
Netherlands sat up, startled. "Kid--what the hell? How old are you, ten? Twelve?"
"I do this with England all the time," America lied.
"You do this...with England?"
"Yeah."
"All the time?" Netherlands sounded doubtful.
"Uh huh."
This seemed to change Netherlands's mind, and he let the colony go back to exploring his body. When he found out America didn't know what to do--England had rushed straight through to the sex--Netherlands took the lead, but he wasn't much better than America's guardian, though he did try to prepare America for what he intended to do.
At the first sensation of Netherlands's fingers entering him, America stiffened, briefly panicking. How the hell could this hurt? He'd given birth, even if that was years ago, a baby was a lot bigger than a few fingers!
Netherlands stopped, noticing America's tension. "You said you do this with England, what's the problem?"
"Nothing...nothing. He...didn't..." America tried to breath normally and gripped the bedsheets, willing himself to stop resisting the country's moves.
"He didn't do anything beforehand? Selfish jackass." As if wanting to prove he was better in bed than the other country, Netherlands started over, using only one finger. He went slowly and took a good deal of time to stretch America, gradually working in more fingers. Though he was trying to be careful, Netherlands seemed unused to being gentle; his attempts with America were painful to the colony, not pleasurable. It barely felt better than that time with England, and the only improvement was that America could at least breath easily after adjusting to Netherlands's fingers jabbing into him.
Netherlands took America's calmness for approval and removed his fingers. The heat from Netherlands's body warmed America's back as America pressed his face to his pillow, waiting for Netherlands to make the next move.
It was worse than he'd been expecting--America held his breath, clenched at the pillow, and was dismayed to realize Netherlands wasn't even in all the way.
The country swore, paused, pressed on. In jarring starts and stops, he forced himself into America.
America whimpered, wanting this over with.
Netherlands either didn't notice or didn't care. He started thrusting into America, the bumping pinning the colony into the mattress. He couldn't think straight to push Netherlands off; the country's swearing was scaring America senseless. He didn't know if the almost burning feeling of Netherlands's body felt worse than the burning he was inflicting, down below.
All is Not As it Seems - 3d
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-29 05:36 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 3e
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-29 05:38 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 3e
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-29 06:02 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-01 00:30 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 3e
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-29 06:29 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-01 00:32 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 3e
(Anonymous) - 2010-08-29 16:18 (UTC) - Expandw/a
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-01 00:45 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 4a
(Anonymous) 2010-09-13 01:33 am (UTC)(link)Virginia Jones grasped details, but she could not clearly see the whole picture. It was too big for her (and what was she, if her father represented all the people that had come to this land?)
Children from the settlement had two parents, a man and a woman; Virginia had America, who was one person and a boy. America was her father but he made Virginia call him "Alfred," so people would think they were brother and sister; children of the settlers were never allowed to call their parents by first name. The settlers needed a group of people and several days to get projects done; America could do the work of three of them in a single day.
Many things did not make sense to her, but Virginia had no trouble understanding that no one was to ever know she was America's child, or terrible things would happen to them both.
***
In many ways, America felt more like an older brother than a father to Virginia. Maybe it was because she wasn't allowed to call him father, or because America looked so inexplicably young. He took care of her, he was the only guardian she'd ever known--but he didn't feel like a parent.
It had always been just the two of them. That was what Virginia was used to.
Netherlands disrupted the life Virginia and America had. Worse, he didn't even bother sticking around for America, when in the days and weeks afterward, something had clearly changed with him.
He got clingy. He made Virginia sleep in his bed, when she hadn't slept with him since she was three. He seemed to have lost the will to do much of anything these days and kept asking her what she wanted to do. She didn't get why he asked, when he just fell asleep no matter what they were doing, or withdrew early to go eat something. Virginia was seriously wondering if she was going to have to start looking after him, with how spacey America had become, when he asked her if she had ever wanted a little brother or sister.
Which explained the weight gain, but she wondered what America would have done if she'd said no, she didn't want a sibling.
***
Now that it was plain to see that the baby causing America's stomach to swell was also the reason for America's newfound weariness, Virginia felt a sense of obligation to help him. The baby was clearly a hindrance! But hopefully once it was born--and America was free from its obnoxious influence--America would be himself again. A baby brother or sister would be fine, added to their lives, once everything was back on track.
And it wasn't like Netherlands was going to come back to protect America and the baby.
Virginia's intentions were good, but in hindsight, she had to admit she started off too ambitiously; doing smaller things for America would have been more useful, because the rifle incident turned America into a nervous wreck and instead of just being exhausted and worried about the coming baby, he was exhausted and worrying over everything.
***
What happened was a bear wandered near the house one day.
America always told Virginia not to bother animals and they wouldn't bother her, but Virginia had seen America fire his rifle many times and he'd taught her how to skin and gut animals--what if she took down this bear? Imagine how much trouble she'd be saving him! It would be forever before he'd have to hunt anything again!
As soon as the rifle was in her hands, she got a guilty premonition that this was not something that would make America in any way happy. Still, she really wanted to use the firearm herself.
"Stay in the yard!" she hissed at the bear. It was looking in another direction. The animal was so close that Virginia could see the shagginess of its coat. Its patchy fur wasn't pretty like that of the smaller game America hunted.
All is Not As it Seems - 4b
(Anonymous) 2010-09-13 01:35 am (UTC)(link)Virginia tightened her hold to keep it from falling, and the rifle fired before she meant to fire it.
It jerked backward, the butt of the weapon slamming painfully into her chest. She was knocked onto the ground. Deafened momentarily by the blast, she felt the gun suddenly hot and burning her hands, but she couldn't drop the firearm like she wanted to; it was stuck to her skin. Or her hands were unable to unclench.
"Virginia!"
She sat up and watched as the bear shuffled away.
"Virginia! What the hell? What happened?!" America reached her, prying the rifle out of her grip. He cursed when he saw her hands. "I told you never to touch that rifle! What were you thinking?"
"There was a bear in the yard," Virginia told him, faintly.
"Oh, Virginia, one shot wouldn't kill a bear. This isn't the right time of year to preserve meat, and I don't think I could dry something that big. Even if I could, neither of us would want to be eating it for months."
He carried her into the house and made her soak her hands in egg whites. She didn't tell him about the rifle hitting her in the chest.
Virginia's hands healed quickly, since America had attended to them immediately, but where the rifle had struck her left a bruise that took weeks to fade. Virginia poked at it in the days afterward, using the pain to remind herself not to do foolish things that would only scare America, instead of help him.
***
There had already been a lot America wouldn't let Virginia do, because of how small she was, and the impulsive stunt she'd pulled seemed to convince him that he was not being protective enough. To remedy this, he barely allowed her in the kitchen, he repeatedly warned her against getting too close to the fireplace, he wouldn't let her go with him to get wood, when he was swinging around an ax. Virginia had to settle for straigtening up rooms, bringing water to the house, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals they kept, so that when America went to take care of these chores, he found them already done.
And although he hugged her every time and said what a helpful child she was being, Virginia felt she was not doing enough.
America seemed depressed.
She had thought it was just more of him being tired. On days America was especially busy, he seemed almost unable to move when he finally stopped working. Then Virginia noticed America went from eating all the time to hardly eating at all. She thought it was from the vomiting--she wouldn't want to eat either, if it was making her throw up!--but there were nights America wouldn't let her sleep in his bed, and then he wouldn't leave his bedroom the next day. Sometimes he'd stay in there for longer than a day, but he couldn't make it past two; even if he didn't want to eat, the baby seemed to be keeping him from outright stopping.
During these days, Virginia was tempted to do things which America ordinarily wouldn't allow. Not wanting to upset him, she resisted.
***
Maybe he was sad that Netherlands hadn't come back?
Virginia did not like sharing America. She resented the people who rarely visited him and even more rarely stayed over, but none of these did she hate with the animosity she felt for the spiky-haired man that America had blown her off for.
That being said...Netherlands was an adult. The most company America had was Virginia, a child. The difference had to count for something, as much as she'd rather not admit.
All is Not As it Seems - 4c
(Anonymous) 2010-09-13 01:36 am (UTC)(link)America lost his place in the book. Trying to find it again, he said distractedly, "You didn't like Netherlands. Why do you care that he's not here?"
She was a personification. She had abilities children normally did not possess. However, in spite of this, Virginia was also a little girl. Articulating that she'd been ignored in favor of someone who couldn't be bothered to stay was beyond Virginia's current skills, though she was hurt by it. Because she could not explain this, she settled for sulking visibly in America's arms.
"He's gone, you probably won't be seeing him again." America hugged her. Tiny feet or elbows pressed into Virginia's back.
She pulled away from the affectionate hold--and the baby's abuse--to glare at America defiantly. "You said he was gone. Is he or is he not?"
"He is gone!"
"But you said probably. Why did you say that if you know for certain he's gone?"
He had that look he got whenever he didn't know the answer to something she'd asked. America loathed having to admit uncertainty.
"Well?" It used to be he'd never let her speak this way to him! He'd tell her why it was wrong and warn her not to do it again. The indulgence had been fun at first. Now Virginia just wanted things to go back to the way they'd been before.
America pulled her close again, resting his chin on her head--which was the same position he'd managed to fall asleep in, so Virginia was instantly suspicious. "It takes two people to have a baby."
"But I only have you!"
"No, you don't. You have me and England. Someday you'll meet him."
England was the country who was in charge of all this land. He was even in charge of her father. He must be very powerful. "When? When will I meet him?"
"I can't say. He has to oversee a lot of places, and it takes time to get everywhere. It may be a long time before we see him again."
She wanted to point out she'd never seen England at all, but America sounded sad, so Virginia let him keep holding her. The baby squirmed some more, stretching the already taut skin of the mound of America's belly, and Virginia again wondered how much longer it would be till her little brother or sister arrived. The baby couldn't possibly have any room left in there.
***
In an apartment in Arlington, Virginia Jones was laying newspaper in the bottom of a parakeet cage when the phone rang.
This was a call Virginia had been dreading, but she knew it was coming--her father had been lying low for too many months to keep up with not sticking his nose into everyone else's business. She just knew he was going to ignore anything she said, and Virginia herself couldn't muster up the optimism to hope the rumors concerning Khrushchev might be unfounded.
Ready for an argument, Virginia answered the phone with, "I'm surprised it took you this long to call."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh. New York. I was waiting on a call from someone else."
"Is this a bad time? I can call later."
"No, stay on the line. I don't want to talk to them."
Her little brother laughed. It was a sudden, sharp sound that cut off too soon, making him sound irritatingly cocky. "I just got a call from Uncle Matthew."
All is Not As it Seems - 4d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-13 01:37 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 4d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-13 03:03 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 4d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-13 06:47 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 4d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-14 20:34 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 5a
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 03:26 am (UTC)(link)He snapped out of his tired and depressed state, becoming energetic for the first time in months. Losing interest in coddling his daughter, he gained an obsession with cleaning the house. Virginia was not sorry for this exchange; she was rejoicing over the lack of supervision and getting some breathing space from America.
She wasn't happy long. America's new fixation was focusing on things that didn't need cleaning. How far he was taking this was worrisome.
"What are you doing?" she asked, having rushed into a room after hearing loud scraping noises, to find America dragging a heavy writing table away from the wall.
"Cleaning."
"You never use that thing. Why do you need it cleaner than it already is?"
"There was dust underneath it. I couldn't reached under there to clear it away, the baby won't let me bend like that."
"You could have called me to do it." She thought it was an unnecessary task, but it made her nervous, seeing America unable to hold still. What would happen to the baby if America was bumping into things, or knocking things down on himself? Virginia privately believed her little brother or sister was extraordinarily stupid, if the things America was compelled to do because of it were proof of anything, but her sibling didn't need to be made stupider, by their father's actions.
America glared at the desk like he wanted to break it into pieces, not sweep away dust from beneath it. "I'm cleaning it myself, that way I know it's clean. It needs to be spotless."
"Why?"
"Because I won't have time to do it after the baby's here."
"But the baby's not going to use anything in this room. It's barely going to use anything in this house."
"You couldn't possibly understand, Virginia," America told her, in his I'm-the-parent-and-you're-the-child-even-if-I-don't-let-you-call-me-father voice, the one he used whenever he was trying to be impressive. It never lived up to the conviction. "If you have time to ask questions, you have time to help me."
"You just said you didn't want me cleaning."
"Well, bring me the broom then. You're faster than me."
"It's right behind you." If this flightiness lasted after the baby came, her poor brother or sister wouldn't survive a week under America's care.
***
America hadn't been making Virginia sleep with him in the last weeks--America had been too uncomfortable no matter how he lay or sat in bed. He kept getting up and walking around, which would have kept her from sleeping. So when he did not leave the bedroom one morning, Virginia was not sure if America had worn himself out with all the cleaning he'd been doing, or if America had sunk back into his low spirits.
She left him alone most of the day. By evening, she decided to knock on his door and at least see if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He'd been in there since the night before.
Approaching the room, she heard groaning. "Alfred?" she called, alarmed--it took a lot for America to notice he was hurt. What could possibly have happened to him? "Are you alright?"
The pained noises stopped, followed by a muffled, "Fuck!", then America tersely yelled, "What is it?" He was out of breath.
"What's wrong? Can I come in--"
"No! Don't come in here! Go to bed, leave me alone for a while. If I need you, I'll call you."
"But you're--"
"I don't need you underfoot right now!"
It must be the baby. Well, it was about time. Virginia didn't leave, but she compromised by not going into the room, and sat in the hallway, without letting America know she was still there.
All is Not As it Seems - 5b
(Anonymous) 2010-09-20 03:27 am (UTC)(link)***
Against her will, Virginia was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
She pinched the skin on her wrists. She dug her nails into her palms. She tried not blinking, but her eyes got dry, she'd have to blink, and her eyes would then shut for too long. Falling asleep and waking up--sometimes within seconds--was making her jumpy.
A yelp from the bedroom scared Virginia wide awake. Was something wrong? America hadn't been that loud before, why was he now? She listened hard; all that came next was more heavy breathing and groaning. Eventually, even that died down, and she couldn't hear anything.
Virginia had calmed and was getting sleepy again when a new noise made her jump: it was enraged screaming, and it was not America who was doing it.
It felt like hours before the wailing stopped, though Virginia knew it couldn't have been that long. When America quit moving around in the bedroom, Virginia got to her feet. She waited for the numbness to leave her, as she worked up the nerve to open the door and check on America--she hadn't dared try while she knew for a fact he was awake.
***
To Virginia's relief, America was asleep, exactly as she'd guessed he'd be. He looked alright, just dead tired.
Emboldened by the thought that America probably lacked the energy to yell at her if she woke him up, Virginia sat on the bed beside him to get a closer look at the baby. She couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Wrapped in a sheet and curled up on America's chest so its face was pressed against America's skin, there was almost no part of the baby that was visible. Its cheek looked bruised; there were delicate spider veins spreading across the skin.
She wanted to see if the spider veins were all over its face, but poking the baby at first did nothing, then made it angrily rub its face hard at America's chest. Which woke America.
"Hey, stop poking your baby brother," he mumbled. He was too tired to even keep his eyes opened.
Virginia didn't say anything, afraid America was going to order her out, but he reached for her, pulling her to him, and lying next to her father, Virginia stared at her baby brother some more, as America went back to sleep.
***
New Netherland was an ugly little thing who, for the first several weeks of his life, resembled a skinned animal more than a child. Somehow, he managed to look unimpressed by everything his father and older sister did. He even sneered in his sleep.
Virginia adored him, even if he'd been given a ridiculous name. For all New Netherland's outward contrariness, he was the calmest baby Virginia and had ever seen. He only cried when he was hungry. The rest of the time, he was content with lying like a boneless lump against his sister.
America thought it was sweet how devoted Virginia was to her brother. But when he could only get New Netherland back to feed him, America found the situation losing its charm.
"Go play outside," he snapped one day at Virginia.
"Can I bring New Netherland with me?"
"Of course not. Leave him here."
"Then I'm staying inside."
"You're a child. Go act like one!"
"You're a child too," Virginia sassed, even though America did not look that young anymore. No one in the settlement would have believed him to be Virginia's father, but the age gap between them appeared larger, and it was going to look considerably less suspicious, Virginia--and now the new baby--being under America's supervision.
"Give me my son," America commanded. For the first time that Virginia could recall, he looked displeased with her.
She handed her brother over. She was willing to push limits with her father, but there was only so far she'd go.
***
In Arlington, Virginia ended her call with New York. She stay near the phone, in case Canada was planning to call her next.
All is Not As it Seems - 5c
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 03:29 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 5d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 03:30 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 5d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 06:02 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 5d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 16:54 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 5d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-20 22:46 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 5d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 18:46 (UTC) - Expanda/n
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 19:22 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 6a
(Anonymous) 2010-09-26 06:02 am (UTC)(link)By turns, the colony was resentful and self-pitying--his bewilderment over how he could be pregnant was brought back full force, with no resolution to be had. He felt guilty for not paying more attention to his daughter. He was so tired that not a day went by without him wanting to cry from being so worn out. Some days America couldn't get up and do what needed to be done. On good days, he'd be able to do the essential, still have time for Virginia, and only catnap for a few minutes while with her. When he had time to rest, contradictorily, he was overwhelmed with urges to clean, or do other more practical things like read to his daughter or fuss over her clothes and the clothing he intended to use for the baby.
Virginia was getting big enough to semi care for herself, and America couldn't help thinking he should have been closer to having some of his freedom back, not needing to restart the routine! He tried to remember that the baby hadn't asked to be conceived, it was his and Netherlands's own stupid fault--but with all that was pervading America's thoughts, he wondered if there'd be any way he wouldn't take his unhappiness out on his poor child.
***
He felt so awful after delivering New Netherland that for a while, America forgot to feel guilty for not being happy about the new baby.
Having Virginia hadn't been this bad. Maybe he'd been in shock at the time and had forgotten how it had gone, or this baby was bigger and hurt worse, or he'd bled more with it, but America was only able to wipe the mess from the birth into a heap of bloody, dampened sheets before collapsing into bed, the baby on his chest. He might have passed out. Later, he became aware that Virginia was in the room and on the bed next to him, bothering the baby, who--from the pain America was feeling--had taken it upon himself to try to get a meal out of America.
Breastfeeding grossed out America more than pregnancy had. It was completely illogical, seeing how much he'd already done that was unnatural, but America didn't want to prolong what his body had been undergoing.
His inclination was to straightaway pry off the newborn. America was tired though, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get up any time soon. He let the baby continue nursing, intending to sleep and, when he was feeling more alert, instruct Virginia to milk the goat and start feeding the baby on that.
This wasn't a good idea.
When America cut off the supply to New Netherland, more than a day had gone by. America's body was not getting the hint that he didn't want to breastfeed, and New Netherland did not appreciate a glove full of goat secretion being shoved into his face. Virginia took over trying to get her brother to swallow the goat's milk, as America crossed his arms over his aching chest. After two days, America couldn't take anymore--it was scaring him how the baby was vomiting up anything they got into him. The way things were going, the newborn was going to choke to death before he could starve.
The hell with indignity. America didn't want his baby suffering.
Knowing that even in the lowest moments of his resentment, he didn't wish any harm on this second child eased America's guilt. Within days, he forgot that he'd ever felt any unhappiness toward the baby.
***
He still wasn't happy, but feeding the baby and arguing with Virginia exhausted America so much that he was in too much of a daze to recognize he was feeling discontentment.
This trance-like state lasted until the day America heard the door to the house open and he was greeted by not Virginia's voice but England's. The country was calling America's name and then saying something about tea as America--for the first time in months feeling something other than dreariness--headed for his guardian, overjoyed that England had returned. His children were the furthest thing from his thoughts as England stammered in shock over how much America had grown, and America didn't even care that he was acting like an overeager puppy as he threw himself at England.
"You got so big!" England finally managed to voice coherently.
"You were gone a long time!" America responded, accusingly.
All is Not As it Seems - 6b
(Anonymous) 2010-09-26 06:03 am (UTC)(link)For a few minutes, America experienced bliss, in the comfort of England's embrace. Everything was going to be alright, America was certain; England could fix all of America's worries: Virginia's disobedience, how exhausting caring for the baby was, all the hiding America had had to do from the countries and his citizens, how he was going to continue providing for his children now that there were two. All that was over now.
Or so he thought. America hadn't considered he might be investing too much faith in England.
Virginia walked into the room, carrying her baby brother. Confused over why her father was hugging this man she'd never seen before, she simply stared at England, who, for his part, took one look past America at Virginia and couldn't not notice that this child had suspiciously similar eyebrows and eye coloring.
England let go of America and lost all coherency once again. America was wondering how badly England was going to take this when England was able to quit stammering and nervously demanded, "Who are these two? You know the settlers aren't supposed to be here! Why are you inviting them to the house? How often have you done this?"
Damn. That bit of happiness had been short lived. "They live here."
"What would possess you to do such a thing?"
"Relax, they're not settlers."
"Then what are they?" England appeared to be in no mood for games.
In America's defense, this wasn't a game. It had been so long since he'd seen England that he'd never bothered to think how he was going to break the news of Virginia to the country. "They're mine," he answered, deciding being short and to the point would be best, in this situation.
"Yours. Funny. Whose are they really?"
"They're mine. Seriously." America was a little concerned that England wasn't believing him.
England gave America an impatient look like this was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard anyone say. "You took in settler children? Has it even occured to you just how bad an idea that is? Where did you get them from? They need to go back!"
"Go back?" Virginia said. "I'm not going anywhere, this is my home! Why don't you go back? Alfred, why is this man yelling and giving orders? Who is he?"
For a moment, America thought England was going to direct his yelling at Virginia, but then he focused his gaze back onto America. "See how rude that one is? You're a bad influence already! Those children need to go to people who will discipline them!"
"I do not need discipline!"
"They're not going anywhere. When I said they're mine, I didn't mean I found them and took them in. They're mine."
He could tell England was trying to come up with any other possibility, rather than take America's words at face value. Did he truly not believe him, or did he just not want to believe him? "They're...yours?"
"Yes." Was he actually accepting it?
"You...had them? You did?"
"Yes."
Virginia frowned. "This is my father? He's England?" She glared at England. "Why are you yelling at America?" It was the first time she'd ever called her father by his real name.
England did not seem to hear his daughter. He was staring at America in shock. "Why aren't you dead?"
Unable to believe he'd heard right, America watched England uneasily, hoping he'd laugh awkwardly and say it was just a bad joke, or he'd apologize and try to help America figure out how this had happened.
Virginia was angered enough to challenge England's question when America could not. "Why would you say something like that? How dare you go on about rudeness, then ask him such a thing! What's your problem?"
England gave no answer.
All is Not As it Seems - 6c
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-26 06:04 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 6d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-26 06:05 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 6d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-26 06:14 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 6d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-26 07:03 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 6d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-26 20:47 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 7a
(Anonymous) 2010-09-30 02:45 am (UTC)(link)"Curiosity getting to you?" he asked, after realizing she was coming after all.
Her expression twisted into deeper grumpiness, and Virginia refused to speak. This was where America would ordinarily make a sarcastic remark about her not trusting him with the baby, but Virginia had every right to be mad--he'd told her he was kicking England out and now had gone back on his word. Better to leave her alone. She might warm up to the country after all of them got the answers they'd been wanting.
England had moved from the front of the house. America found him in the drawing room, not a room the colony used (he'd only even entered it in the last decade because he'd felt an unbearable need to clean it during one of his nesting episodes). The drawing room had nice wallpaper and rugs and America didn't want to take the chance of damaging anything in there, so he stayed out. It wasn't an interesting room and it was too formal for his personal comfort; England used it when he had official visitors over, or sometimes when other countries visited him.
They were all seated and America was expecting England to say something--anything--to Virginia, when England instead said, "I was thinking this business over and I can't say for certain, but I might know why--"
"Don't you have something to say to Virginia?" America interrupted. He wanted answers, but first he wanted his child to get the apology she was owed.
"I don't want him talking to me," Virginia objected. She looked so cranky that some of America's hostility lifted; when ill-tempered, Virginia resembled England remarkably. It made chastising her a struggle.
England faced Virginia, who huffily ignored him. He took in the features she had which matched his (eyes, eyebrows, facial shape), the clothes she wore that were stylish and well-maintained (unlike America's clothes), while her hair--the same color as America's--was brushed but otherwise left alone. "I'm sorry I haven't been around," England said. "I didn't know about you, and I'm not saying that in excuse, it was that I've had so many places I have to be that I didn't give your...father...the attention he deserved."
America was too insulted by the pause before England called him Virginia's father to note England was apologizing for the wrong offense. "You're not thinking of me as her mother, are you? I'm not a girl. You should know, even if we only once--"
"America, that is not an appropriate subject to speak of in front of a child!"
"Oh, and you were being appropriate before?"
"Why is he still here?" Virginia yelled, drowning out the voices of both her parents. Addressing America, she snapped, "He wants you dead! Make him go away!"
The baby woke up and looked irritated by the noise. America cradled his son, hoping he wouldn't start crying, and looked to England. "What you said? Your problem to deal with."
Trying to be patient, England said carefully, "I did not wish America dead."
Virginia wasn't letting it go. "Then why did you say what you did?"
"It was a lot to come back to. I wasn't expecting any of this. I...reacted badly."
"Reacted badly?" America echoed, unimpressed. He started unbuttoning his shirt.
"What are you doing, America?"
America stopped, surprised by England's sharpness. "What does it look like? Holding the baby, shirt opening, you can't figure it out for yourself?" He went back to undoing the buttons, then held New Netherland closer.
"Go do that somewhere else!"
There was an odd amusement to be had in his guardian choosing to be hung up over this, of all things, but America only got a few seconds of diversion; once New Netherland latched onto him, America was biting his lips at the tightness and prickling pain that started.
"New Netherland cries when he's hungry," Virginia abrasively informed England. "I doubt you'd be bothered, making a defenseless baby cry, but if you can't handle the sight of him eating, you can always go to another room yourself. It's not your home, that would be the polite thing to do."
All is Not As it Seems - 7b
(Anonymous) 2010-09-30 02:46 am (UTC)(link)"You may have built it, but it's America's now. You haven't done anything for it and he has."
They probably weren't going to be getting along anytime soon, so America intervened. "Stop arguing and start explaining. England--what do you know?"
He looked torn between reproaching his daughter and criticizing America, but England sighed and said, "This is just a theory. I can't prove anything. There's no way for me to know now what incantation I used, and for all I know, I could have cast it correctly and it worked, just not in any solution obvious to us."
"You're a witch?"
"Virginia, stop talking," America warned, before the child got any ideas. False accusations weren't a minor matter, and he didn't think he would ever become desensitized to witch-hunts or any other ways the settlers came up for dealing with the unnatural. "You used magic to do this, can't you use magic to find out what you did?"
"It doesn't work like that. There's a cost to using magic, and finding out exactly what you used isn't a strong enough reason to pay that cost."
"So you can't do anything. You can't answer anything."
"That's not true! I said I have a theory!"
Why were they in this room? The chairs were uncomfortable and America was having a harder time nursing his child due to all the shifting around he was doing. "Go on."
"The names of your children are the same as the names of the settlements. What was the reason for that?"
America wasn't really sure how to explain. "I didn't have many naming options, and what I did have, none seemed to fit either of them." Virginia was already a proper name, and with New Netherland, America had thought he'd been out of it from the birth and gotten some absurd, sentimental determination to name the baby after the other parent. In retrospect, the settlement's name had come to him, and just sounded right, where normal names had not.
"What if my attempt worked, but the way it worked was by changing things about you? You were already much stronger than established countries. What if your strength was being spread out?"
"What, like these two are supposed to protect me? How would that even be possible?" The time Virginia tried using his rifle flashed before America's eyes, and he refused to acknowledge there could have been any sense to that incident. His daughter had gotten carried away, children did stupid and dangerous things when they weren't being watched.
"Not literally. Virginia's mine, that one's Netherlands's--you've got something of ours, it would be stupid to allow harm to come to our assets."
How were his children an asset to anyone else? America loved his daughter and son, but they were responsibilities, and that was it. They weren't even the responsibilities of their other fathers! "You didn't know about Virginia till today. Netherlands still doesn't know about the baby. Neither of you have been any help, where does caring about what's yours come in? Your theory is wrong. Accept it, England, your spell failed. That's all."
Virginia stood up and gave England a dirty look. "You cursed my father?"
"Be grateful, you wouldn't exist if I hadn't."
"I'm grateful to him, not you!"
"You appreciate me after all! How nice." America was losing interest in this whole matter. So England had nothing, if that jumbled guesswork was anything to go by. Well, would concrete explanations have helped? He had children to take care of either way. A weird calmness was settling over America. It wasn't sleepiness and it was too nice to be apathy; he only felt it while nursing the baby.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" Virginia asked America.
Distantly, America answered, "I'm probably going to go to my room. Sitting on my bed would be better than sitting on this chair."
She grew red-faced and pointed at England. "About him!"
"Oh. Right. England, you're not sleeping with me. I might get pregnant again."
All is Not As it Seems - 7c
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 02:47 (UTC) - ExpandAll is Not As it Seems - 7d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 02:48 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 7d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 10:16 (UTC) - Expanda/n
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 18:52 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 7d
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 14:18 (UTC) - Expanda/n
(Anonymous) - 2010-09-30 19:17 (UTC) - ExpandRe: a/n
(Anonymous) - 2010-10-01 01:25 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 7d
(Anonymous) - 2010-10-02 01:30 (UTC) - ExpandRe: All is Not As it Seems - 7d
(Anonymous) - 2010-10-11 00:25 (UTC) - Expanda/n
(Anonymous) - 2010-10-11 04:19 (UTC) - ExpandCONTINUATION TO COME IN PAST FILLS
(Anonymous) 2010-10-17 03:13 am (UTC)(link)