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Post by England on Feb 16, 2013 19:58:12 GMT -5
A small smile managed to worm itself on England's face, and he let his tense muscles relax, letting his grip on America's hair fall and slumping just a little against his lover. He was glad that a smile had finally been cracked. It meant that, even if for a small while, they were done with the issue. Though it was something that they obviously were not settled with just yet, England was glad that they had managed to ease out of the tension.
"Of course I'll help," he hummed. "Even before I start working on my nation, I must help you rebuild yours. Not just because of benevolence, but for practical reasons, too." Of course, most the problems he had to deal with in his nation were the ones that were related to the massive and unorganized migration of the North American population. He couldn't just send those people back out without giving them a place to stay first. Still, giving such a concrete example to his statement was intimidating, so he kept it all to himself. "I wish there was so much more I could do than just... what I can think of. Maybe I could search in my spellbooks and find some kind of magic to help you rebuild buildings, or plant trees, or breed wildlife..." The concept was highly amusing and sounded way too fantastic to be real (that, and England was horrible at white magic), but he was idle and would be for a while now. Entertaining impossible notions was one of his favourite pastimes.
"I'd be honoured if you let me help you out. Perhaps I can debate with my government in order to send human and material resources to the land in order to rebuild once we are done with eradicating the threat. And I will personally come and help you and your brother clean up, rebuild, and protect your countries. Perhaps this is not the best comparison, nor the best time to make such a comparison, but..." he chewed his lip pensively before deciding to go ahead anyway. "I... I helped you two build up to become who you are today, and I... I'd be honoured if you let me help you rebuild your nations and your identities. I... I want to stand by you two and help you both stand right back up every single time something or someone pushes you down." He stopped for a moment afterward, wondering if it was too awkward of a topic to continue on, but decided to conclude anyway.
"I love you. Not just you, as the man I would die for, but your brother, too, as the man who has stood beside me for so long. You are special to me, both of you, and I don't think I could live with myself if I were unable to soothe your pain. Perhaps not as much as you, and with reason, but I still feel responsibility and obligation towards this land and its people. I want to extend a hand and help you rise out of these horrid times, no matter how indisposed I may be to do certain things in certain cases, but as if it weren't obvious enough already, I am fully prepared, and determined, to invest the entirety of my time in protecting you both."
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Post by America on Feb 16, 2013 23:53:53 GMT -5
America stared at him for a few seconds, the rain, luckily, making him too cold to get emotional. He was sure that if it wasn't windy and wet, he might have just shed a few tears, which was most certainly not a very manly thing to do. He thanked the weather for the first time that day. It forced him to be too distracted to do anything other than give a small, sad smile, shaking his head in disbelief.
England was really too good to be true.
"No, your top priority isn't me, England," he retorted, poking England on the nose. "It never was and it never should be." Oh, but he wanted to be England's top priority, and he wanted England to be his. He wanted to worry about nothing and no one but England himself. "We're nations." He wrapped his arms around England, their wet clothes squelching against each other. "Nations gotta look out for their own people, their own lands."
He looked down at England, giving a small chuckle of laughter, hoping to raise their morale just slightly. "I do need your help, and I want for nothing more than your help, but don't do all of that. No one would allow for it." England could physically come and give support and help, sure, and that was what America wanted. And, yeah, he knew England's government would be pretty helpful, being influenced by the representation and being allies and such, but they wouldn't put so much of an emphasis on getting North America great again, and America understood that. He wouldn't expect his government to raise up, say, China, or even England, rather than focus on its own people.
"As a nation," he said, though the words killed him inside. "We gotta look after ourselves before others. Because we have...we have duties and responsibilities we hafta bear, and throwing that aside for...I mean, we can't be...romantic in these situations. We can't be personal friends. Know what I mean?" He desperately looked towards England, hoping he wasn't screwing anything up. "Sometimes, we need to put aside our personal relationships for the people. If it was just us, and if I was in your position and you were in mine, I'd help you out in a heartbeat. I'd spend...god, I'd spend all the money I could trying to get you back up, and I'd beg the government to do everything for you."
He rolled his eyes, still smiling, despite the severity of his words. "But, you know, we're nations before we're people. Your government isn't gonna allow you to do much until you get your own country back in order." To make sure England understood that he didn't fully agree with that, that he wanted to just be a person, he kissed him, first on his eyelid and then in the middle of his forehead, humming happily (though his heart wasn't into it). "So, even if it's a small amount, I'd appreciate it, England, and I'll find a way to repay you after I get my country back up and running. I wonder if all my debts still stand. Gosh, can you imagine me finally getting shit together and then having it all fall apart again because of some past mistakes?"
He laughed, a lot longer than he should have, until it turned bitter and humorless. "God, nothing's ever gonna end, is it? It's like I'm destined to fuck up."
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Post by England on Feb 17, 2013 17:14:09 GMT -5
"No, you aren't. To be honest, none of us are ever going to stop fucking up, as you so eloquently put it, until there isn't a single human being left on this planet," England shrugged, relishing the feeling of America's arms around him. "We're imperfect, alright? All these people complaining and whining all the goddamn time, no matter what you give them, can't seem to grasp this fact. There isn't a single thing anybody on this planet can do to satisfy everyone. You aren't an exception to the rule, America. So don't worry about 'fucking up', because yes, you are going to fuck up a lot, especially from now on, but if you don't let these failures get to you and keep rising every time you are knocked down, you'll be fine, and nobody will blame you."
He didn't know if it was because they were making up so well, or if it was happening for real, but the rain seemed to be softer. The raindrops didn't whip his face, and they didn't make him feel as numb as they had before. All in all, things seemed to be calming down, and to his relief, it didn't just apply to the rain.
"Not to be rude, or anything, love, but my country can only get better once its, err... overpopulation problem is resolved." As much as they both knew it to be true, it felt insensitive to just go up and say that America's illegal immigrants needed to get off his land for him to be able to make any kind of progress with his country. "So... Again, not in an attempt to be harsh, or anything, but I have to say that I think my government would fully support the rebuilding process of America and Great Britain's role in it as a key player. In fact, any western European country can be counted on to help you and your brother get back on your feet. Not only out of benevolence, but also because we would all draw profit from it." He then chewed his lip, wondering if he'd been too bold with his explanation.
It wasn't that he didn't want the Americans to consider his country a safe haven, but he could not support both them and his own people if they stayed for too long. Just like America was looking out for his 'children', he was also looking out for his. It was something that, as nations, they would have to get used to. Abandoning one another in time of need if they hoped to keep their own interests alive.
"Have you ever wondered?" he suddenly whispered, letting a small silence take place between them before turning his eyes up to look into America's. "What it would be like if we were just two other people on the street? Not Nations? Without such heavy responsibilities, burdens, or knowledge? Mortal, weak, regular human beings? Would things between us be different?" Of course they would be. England was asking a stupid question. How different, though? Would their lives be easier? Harder? Would they join into the infamous race against time that all humans seemed to compete in? Would their relationship be different?
"If I were human, I would invest my entire life in helping you out, unbound by government, or history, or my people. But... I'd also feel empty," he smiled sadly. "I wouldn't ever become human, not even for a day. Immortality is a curse, but so is mortality. I want to help you, but I would feel so useless if I did so under mortal bounds. Right now, perhaps I cannot do much, but at least I'll be able to do a little every year, until the end of eternity. Slow and steady wins the race, they say. I'm just scared that there won't be a finish line anymore by the time I get to the end of the track." He didn't know what he would do if his efforts bloomed no rewards. Knowing he had been too slow to make a difference would kill him.
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Post by America on Feb 17, 2013 20:37:30 GMT -5
"Mortality isn't a curse," America muttered, looking off into the rain. If he was a human right now, he might be subjected to poverty and disease, and he might even die, but he wouldn't have to be burdened. It wasn't like he wanted to die, because he truly didn't, but he just wanted to live life on his own standards. He didn't want to take on the responsibility of thousands upon thousands of people (how many did he have left now, though? He wasn't exactly sure). He just wanted to have his own responsibilities to worry about, to look out for himself and his close friends. "Mortality is freedom. You don't have to...to do this stuff. You can live however you wanna live. Sure, it comes with death and lack of power, but...well, sometimes I think we have too much power, and sometimes I think we live too long."
He cleared his throat, smiling once more. That being said, he was glad that the long life he had to live would be spent by England's side. "But, you know what? I don't take the selfish way out. Immortality might be a curse, but I'm gonna take it with pride. I mean, I get to help...I can help all these people, England. If I was mortal, I would only live for myself, but because of my curse, I can actually live for everyone else, and I can save everyone else if I work hard enough at it." Yes, immortality was looking better and better has he thought about it. He was even able to grin over at England, eyes bright with relief. He found a way to make himself feel better about the whole situation, his whole situation.
Heroes had to bear curses all the time. It wasn't anything unusual.
"There's gonna be a finish line, England. You've done so much already. You've made...god, you've made a huge impact on the world. Without you, I would be completely different, Mattie would be different, and...and everyone would be different. And people will cheer for you when you reach the end of that line and, and, yeah, and all that metaphorical shit that you're better at saying than I am."
He took a deep breath, feeling much better than before. "So," he said. "I don't mind you guys helping me out for profit. I mean, I'd do the same. I know that you guys, as your human selves, want me to live and prosper. You most of all, probably." He reached over and pecked England's lips, smiling all the while. "God, I love you more than anything, you know? You just, gosh, you make me feel so much better and I just...I just love you."
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Post by England on Feb 17, 2013 21:31:34 GMT -5
"I don't know. Mortality doesn't sound very appealing. Of course, it's a relatively simpler and unburdened life, but think of how frail it is. Imagine how many heartbreaks you have to suffer, that could be avoided with immortality. Imagine living a happy life, doing great in school, having large financial means, great friends, a fiancée... All it takes is one missed red light, one bite of food that was too big, one disturbance in your gene pool, and bam. You're paralyzed. You're an amnesiac. You're dead. Where's your happiness now?" England's voice lowered, and he turned his eyes away. "I know it's somewhat judgmental and biased, but... I take comfort in immortality."
Often, in his past, he'd rued the day he was born a nation. He'd asked for death several times, and yet had been too much of a coward to try it out for himself. He'd let history run its course and had followed along as was demanded of him. Immortality, so far, he had considered a burden, unnecessary, unwanted, useless, and extremely oppressive. But now... It was a whole other issue.
"I used to condemn my immortality, up until these days rolled by. These days where we, too, are nothing but mortal. I used to think that humans had it so easy, being born, living lives, dying without having to constantly be hurt by the past, dread the future, and see the loved ones of their present fade away, but I take it back. Humans are stronger than us, in that sense. They live such fragile lives, that can be cut short at a moment's notice, and yet they build their happiness, reach their goals, pursue their dreams, and die without regrets. They don't hold back because they know that time is limited." His tongue felt dry.
"And despite all that, they're not afraid to love." And England was. England had been, for so long, afraid of being committed, afraid of falling in love and afraid of being happy, knowing that if something fell apart, it would haunt him for the rest of his days. And yet humans did all that, knowing that they could die at any second, and still managed to make themselves happy.
"I'm afraid," he finally admitted after dancing around the subject and repeating himself many times. "I'm afraid, because I used to think that mortality would free me, but then... I realized that I am afraid of mortality, because it could so easily rob me of you." His grip tightened on America's arms, and a blush tinted his cheeks. "We are mortal now, and I have never felt so afraid in my life. Before this, anything could have happened to either of us, and we would have survived, or revived, with minimal consequence. But now, just one mistake can take you away from me, and..." he licked his lips, anxious. "And I've realized that I want my immortality back, my immortality and all its burdens and troubles, so that I never again have to be afraid of losing you."
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Post by America on Feb 17, 2013 22:22:13 GMT -5
He was left to brood over Englands words for a few minutes, thinking them through seriously. He never thought of the things that England brought to light. He never considered how being mortal would give them freedom to love each other, then would take it right back and replace it with death and sorrow. And he hadn't realized that England had been afraid, because England had always been so strong and had always kept his head high. America hadn't realized that his boyfriend might be frightened of the same things they all were. Or, rather, he hadn't wanted to realize it.
"You won't lose me," he promised, shaking his head as he held England close to him. "Not now, not ever. I think I told you before, but I'm always going to be by your side. You're stuck with me for the rest of eternity, or however long we live. We're only mortal for a little bit, you know. We won't be mortal forever."
Of course, England's concern wasn't with being mortal. While America dreamed about mortality and the freedoms it would offer, England chose to bypass them and look on the more realistic side to mortality; the end it would bring. All mortals died. All mortals built up their happiness and had it all taken away from them. But they knew they would die at any given minute, and they still lived, so America didn't see why he couldn't live a mortal life that way. He wouldn't mind giving everything up in the end, so long as his life was fulfilled.
Yet, there was the question of England, of his love. America didn't want to ever leave him. He didn't want England to ever leave. He, too, was scared of death. It could be a freedom, but it could also be a pain.
He wasn't going to be able to win in a fight against eternity and certain death.
"Okay, so we might die." His own words surprised him, and he blinked, but kept going. "There's a possibility, yeah. You already nearly died on me once." He stopped there and realized the comforting words he had been about to say vanished and he was filled with dread. He wouldn't be able to stand it if England died, and England wouldn't be able to stand it if he died. Like England, he longed for immortality again. He wanted to know that, should either of them fall, they'd both come right back up.
He took a deep breath, shaking his head in defeat. "You're right. Again. Just..." He closed his eyes, remembering the fear and helplessness of when he thought he had lost his love. Humans had to go through that. Anyone with mortality would have to go through that, probably multiple times, to all their loved ones. "I guess we're both just gonna have to...fight. We'll swallow our fear and keep going. I mean, we have a cure for zombie bites now, right?" He smiled comfortingly. "Chances of death gotta be slim now."
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Post by England on Feb 18, 2013 1:00:30 GMT -5
"I'd rather not put myself in danger just because there's a cure. I was extremely lucky to simply have been bitten last time, and not actually have an entire piece of my leg ripped out," he shivered as a rather unpleasant image of what his leg could have been came up in his mind, which he quickly dispelled lest he be nauseous. "Besides, who knows what kind of complications could arise. Nature back stabs up all the time. You never know when some kind of genetic mutation could alter the effects of a bite, or make the vaccine useless."
He had been scared once, terrified of losing everything he'd had when he'd been bitten, and that brief taste of mortality had been more than enough to convince him that he never wanted to feel so powerless and fragile again. He hadn't realized how afraid of death he really was, until that moment when he slipped away in his lover's arms, knowing that he would never come back again. He wasn't used to leaving things behind, because he'd always, somehow, gone back to tie things up. But then, the realization had hit him that he was going to die, slowly fade away in America's arms, and never get to fulfill everything he set out to do. Mortality was terrifying.
"I know we won't be mortal forever, and obviously, mortals aren't mortals forever. They are born, live their mortal lives, and die, and that's the end of it. But they do die, whether their life is cut short, or has run its course. Consider these few years, or however long it takes for us to clean the continent out, as a new life. We were born with the apocalypse, and will 'die' when it dies out. But between then and the end, we are mortal, and..." his eyes trailed to the undisturbed door. "At any moment, a single wrong move can cut out life short."
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Post by America on Feb 18, 2013 9:19:29 GMT -5
"Well," America said, knowing he had to step in to bring hope and happiness to their conversation once more. Of course, he had already failed in doing so before, so minutes earlier, and there was still the possibility that everything England said would strike a chord with him, but America wasn't going to stop assuring England that everything would be fine.
If only he could assure himself.
"I don't think any of us will make a wrong move. We'll come close to it, but, come on. We're nations. There's a reason we've survived this far without falling apart." Even as he said it, it didn't sound very believable. How could he believe his own words when he had come so close to losing England once before, when he knew it could happen again at any time and England would just slip from his fingers. With the constant fear of death weighing in on his mind, America couldn't even believe in life.
He sighed, brushing his wet hair out of his face, knowing he wasn't going to be of any comfort to anyone, least of all England, and certainly not to himself. But he hated looking weak and upset, and he had already shown how weak and upset he was. He wasn't going to do it again. "If we die, we die," he stated, his voice quiet. "I mean, no use dwelling on it, right?" And if England died, America knew he would dwell on it for the rest of his eternity, and oh god, he'd have to live an immortal life without his lover beside him. The thought made his breath catch in his throat and he felt his grip on England tighten.
"We need to finish this quickly so I can know that you'll never leave me," he said, swallowing back the disappointment he had in himself.
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Post by England on Feb 18, 2013 15:13:39 GMT -5
"No use dwelling on death, yes. Preferrably, everybody would have to be able to move on from a tragedy rather quickly. But in an ideal world, we wouldn't even be here in the first place. It's not an ideal world in any sense of the term, and so, moving on will be, at least for me, one of the most challenging, and almost impossible things to do." England bit his lip in deep thought. "Imagine it. Us nations, we've seen one another come to life and grow, die and then reappear the next day, but rare are the nations we've seen die and disappear. Imagine somebody you've know for centuries- millenniums!- just... fading away one day."
He didn't wish that upon anyone. The pain of losing someone they'd known for so long, people they'd fought with and fought against, people that had shared their successes and misery, that was an undescribable pain. England would be heartbroken to lose even the tiniest micronation in the world, never mind all the larger nations that he'd gotten to know throughout the ages.
"Imagine losing someone like Italy. He's not particularly related to us, and relatively recently began exercising influence on us, but imagine not ever seeing him again. No more buzzing ball of energy at the meetings, no more enthusiasm and optimism towards what Germany suggests, nothing. Or someone like France. He's been there for so long, has influenced your childhood and mine alike, and he's been my enemy-friend-hybrid for over a millennium already. I hate his guts most of the time, but I cannot fathom a world where he would not be around to try and annoy the hell out of me." His gaze sunk to the floor, his mood as down as the weather.
"And imagine losing Canada. Compared to you, I've known him for a small time, but I would be grieved to know that he would suffer, die, and never be around again to settle disputes or just be a nice, hospitable, harming boy. And you, what would you do? He's your twin brother, how empty would you feel if you were told you could never see, nor hear, nor talk to him anymore?"
All the talk of death was making his heart clench, especially since his brain provided him with imagery to match his words. Pessimism perverted his thoughts, but he couldn't push it back this time. He'd almost died out there, he'd been afraid of losing all the people he knew so well, and he couldn't imagine how others would feel if any of them lost this war. It wasn't an option anymore. They absolutely could not make a single misstep.
"And imagine losing me." England's brain screamed the word 'narcisstic', but he brushed it away easily. Selfishness was a part of him he'd been acquainted to long ago. "What would you do if I died in front of your eyes, turned, and forced you to pull the trigger on me? Could you kill me, could you kill any of us, knowing that we would never rise again? And do you think anyone else could do the same to you?" He licked his lips nervously. "Humans are devastated when people they've been acquainted with for decades, perhaps even seven or eight decades, pass away. What about nations? What impact would it have on you to know that someone who has fought, died, laughed, cried, bled and stood alongside with you for hundreds and hundreds of years was gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again?"
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Post by America on Feb 18, 2013 17:21:54 GMT -5
America gave a shuddering breath as the names of the countries raced through his head, as the fact that they just might die striking fear in his heart. They had been through death before. Nearly all of them had fallen prey to guns or swords or even bear hands. They all might have died, but it wasn't anything for them. They would wake up again, completely fine, and carry on as if they had never been down.
Now, though, once they fell, they wouldn't ever rise again. America couldn't imagine having to bury any of the nations. The ones he fought, the ones he supposedly hated; he couldn't even imagine them dead. A world without either one of them wasn't conceivable. They had done so much together and it couldn't just end in such a manner. One bite- one bite was all it took, and a lack of medical attention, and then that was it. One of the others would have to turn a gun on their friend, enemy, relative, lover, and that was that.
He felt so ill. He just wanted to curl up by himself and be sick and maybe dispel all those painful thoughts from his head.
"What am I supposed to say?" he whispered, refusing to meet England's eyes. "I don't know what you want of me anymore. I can't stop it. I can't get rid of death. I don't want anyone to die, England. I'm..." He swallowed, resting his head on England's shoulder and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "I'm scared of death, you know? We could do whatever we wanted before all this and never die, but now it's...it's so, so different."
He gritted his teeth in anger. "But why us? Why do we have to go through all of this? And I don't mean everyone. I mean us. Nations. We've...we've got people to protect and these aren't...people. Not anymore. Why can't they..." Oh, god, he was so selfish and he hated himself and he didn't want to admit anything at all, but he had to. He wanted to get everything off his chest. "Why can't they send humans in our place?" he whispered, fingers curling around England's clothes. "Because they'd do the exact same job as us and...I don't want to die, and I don't want you to die or anyone to die."
He stayed silent for a few seconds before sniffing slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
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Post by England on Feb 19, 2013 0:24:49 GMT -5
"It's alright. You told me to speak my mind no matter what, and now I return the advice. Say what you want. We're not being taped, nor would anything happen if we were. This isn't a totalitarian government we're living under, nothing will happen if we defy authority." His eyes flashed. "Which we could do. Any day, we could just... Get up, call a helicopter, and just leave. Return to Europe, sit idle until the humans worked everything out, and hope that they're able to working things out. We're free to make our own choices."
That was why he'd been one of the first ones to come to the warehouse, and had decided to stay and make the place habitable to encourage others to make a choice. Because he'd made his own and he'd made it well.
"And I made mine. I came, and I stayed," he breathed out, closing his eyes for a second before gently sliding his arms around America's shoulders and holding him close, one of his hands running through his soaked hair and his cheek pressed against his temple in order to get a bit of hit from the skin-to-skin contact. "And I stayed, but do you know why?" he breathed out softly, then answered himself. "Because I don't want my people to suffer out here. They're not in the best shape, and... I'd rather they stay with their families and loved ones." His eyes trailed towards the distance, buildings as far as the eye could see.
They'd been chosen for a reason, and England had been briefed on that reason. Not only that, but he also wanted to protect those he cared about, and first and foremost were his people. They already were struggling to survive, so he wasn't about to rip families apart. He'd seen too many young men go to war already.
"They chose us because we are hope. We are, to them, beings that have transcended time and have brought with us wisdom throughout the ages. We have fought and mastered many kinds of warfare, and we are immortal," he cleared his throat in correction. "Were. But that's not the point. At least we have a vaccine now. The humans don't have anything. They would be sent here, knowing that they would either live, or die and turn on their comrades, with no grey area in between. We still have a chance, a lot bigger of a chance than sending mere humans out here would provide."
Caressing America's hair, he pulled him closer, until their bodies connected. England set his head on top of America's in a futile effort to protect him from the rain, letting the drops run their way down his cheeks like tears of despair, and let his thoughts wander.
"I'm here for the exact same reason that I never want to let you out of my sight, or go out without confirming who you're with. I'm here for the same reason that I let you have your fling with Norway without much fuss. I did all of those things because I love you, and I care for you, and I just want you to be safe, and happy, and let me carry your burdens instead. And that's why I'm here, fighting for my life, and the lives of people across the planet counting on me: I care for my people, I love my people, I just want them to be happy, and if I have to kill myself in order to achieve their salvation, then so be it." He narrowed his eyes. "That was my choice."
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Post by America on Feb 19, 2013 8:39:23 GMT -5
Surprisingly enough, England's words made America feel better. Sure, what he wished was selfish, but now that he knew he had a choice, something was being lifted from his shoulders. He could just walk away at any moment. He could just let the people deal with everything on their own. He could just sit back and refuse to lift a finger to help. He'd be safer that way, he'd be less miserable that way, and he'd be able to relax more that way.
Yet he wouldn't, and he hadn't. It would have been simple enough to defy the authorities and refuse to travel to Canada. What were they going to do, shoot him? He'd just come right back. Besides, they couldn't kill off their country like that, and he knew it. So he could have just refused to come. He could have refused to go through the pain and helplessness and sorrow that being at the base brought. But he hadn't. And he couldn't do that.
It was for the same reasons England had said; for the people. America loved his citizens. Oh, he loved them so much, and he hated seeing them suffer. He would have had to tear them away from what little they had left in the world. Men would have to leave their wives, and children would have to grow up knowing their father was probably never going to come home the same, if he even came home at all. Sending his citizens to fight in his place was cowardly, selfish, and something no country should ever do. Since his first war, America had been out there, suffering along with his people, and he had never stopped. He refused to make them do all the work. He existed to protect and love them, and he was going to do that.
Even if, as England said, he himself had to die.
He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in, thankful England hadn't even judged him for anything. "I love you," he muttered. "I love you, and...and I love my people with all my heart." He gave a joyful smile, eyes shining in relief. "I doubt they have much of anything now, and I'm not gonna pull them away from what they're holding onto just so I don't have to suffer any. That's why I'm around; to take the sufferings of my people. And so are you." He snorted, lifting his head to put England's head on his shoulder, returning the favor and trying to stop the rain from hitting his lover's face. And he still grinned, feeling like a hero. Heroes made sacrifices and protected people at any cost, and that's what he was doing.
"'Course, I don't want to die. Not yet." That was obvious. "But if I had to die during this battle, I wanna die towards the end of it. I just...I wanna die knowing that everything's alright, and I wanna see them smiling in happiness. I wanna win this thing before I die, so I can hear them cheering and laughing again. They deserve it, for going through all of this shit."
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Post by England on Feb 19, 2013 15:25:03 GMT -5
"We are going to win this, and nobody will stop us," England smiled softly, honestly amused by America's words. Nuzzling against his shoulder, he let out a soft sigh of relief, and kissed his skin below the drenched cloth. "As long as there is a will, there will always be a way," he reminded him. "And I don't think that will is something you personally lack. Not at all, really. If I had to pin someone as a martyr to their people, amongst all of us, I'd have to say it was you. You're finally being a hero."
His smile was wide, but his gaze was sad at the idea of such a playful young man having to give up everything in order to fulfill a tough destiny that he hadn't even chosen. It was a damn shame that even the brightest eyes of their group had to be dulled by the death and despair around them. In a sense, they'd already all lost. And in a sense, they were already all dead.
"Just don't be an idiot," he concluded after a moment of thought. "I know that you choose not to read the atmosphere most of the time, but it's going to be crucial for you to know what to do in which situation. Don't kill the child inside of you, but... Don't let him go and get killed, either. Protect this child just as you protect the rest of your 'children', perhaps even more, because even if you succeed in protecting every single one of your citizens... It won't matter if you have died inside in the process."
Gently putting his hand on America's heart, he drummed his fingers against the cloth, and imagined for a second that he could hear his lover's heart beating strong. Such a tender, golden heart. If there was one forbidden casualty in this war, it was this heart, and England would be in charge of making sure it stayed forbidden. The rest was up to America.
"I know it's hard to get you down, but... You're dying. I won't repeat myself and start another fight, but you are losing everything and are fighting every day to stay alive. But if there is one thing that should never die, it's this," he tapped America's chest. "Protect this child the most. What good is a win if you lose yourself to achieve it?"
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Post by America on Feb 19, 2013 19:40:27 GMT -5
"It's good if I protect everyone," America responded, shrugging his shoulders just slightly. "If...If I can protect all my people and save them, then..." He swallowed nervously, imaging the thought of losing himself. He wouldn't smile, he wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't make light of the situations. He would be broken and destroyed. He would never be the same if he killed the child inside himself. But, if sacrificing himself would help his citizens, he would do it in a heartbeat. He would go through the rest of his life completely different, if only to save his people from breaking.
He gave a short, thoughtful hum, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I'm not gonna go out and try to break myself. I know I'm dying, and I'll probably be completely exhausted by the time this is all over, but exhaustion is easy to fix. It isn't something that can't be cured. I won't be myself, 'cause exhaustion and stress does that to people, but if you give me a little bit to rest it off, I'll be just as good as new when I wake up!"
And he realized he could probably apply "exhaustion" to every situation he might come across while struggling to survive. He might get beaten down, he might be broken, but it could just be as simple as being deprived from the norm. And, when he didn't have enough of the norm, all he had to do was get some more of it, and he'd be fine.
It made sense in his head, and he smiled proudly. He wasn't going to break. None of them would.
"Same for you, too," he added. "And all the nations. We're gonna be different after all of this is over. I mean, I just can't imagine being all happy and same-old, same-old when I just finished killing off my own people." He felt the next words catch in his throat and he had to swallow a few times before he was able to speak again. "So we're gonna be broken, but we just gotta sleep that off and it'll be okay."
He rubbed England's shoulder, noticing how false the words sounded, even to himself.
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Post by England on Feb 20, 2013 0:13:41 GMT -5
"Sleep it off, huh?" England gave the idea a bit of thought. By this point, he should have been desensitized to war and slaughter. After countless conflicts, tensions that lasted for hundreds of years, many civil wars, two global wars, and now this war of all against all, he should have been capable of just going home after a nice day of being out there and mowing down enemies, have a cuppa, perhaps read a book and then go to sleep. At this point, nightmares should have become rare and he should have been able to ignore them. And yet, somehow, it didn't seem to work like that.
England still had nightmares that left him squirming and sweating in his sheets, twisting and crying out softly until he woke up in cold sweat or somebody pulled him out of that twisted dimension. Every single soul, damned or not, that he put down on the battlefield still caused a pang in his heart and regrets to well up slowly but surely in his heart until the final drop caused the cup to spill over, and his heart exploded in guilt. Every dead, empty glance from any nation still haunted him in flashes when he crossed gazes with that person. And with every conflict, more and more fear accumulated inside of him as he awaited the end, dreading the moment when the fears locked inside of him would burst out and turn his reality into a nightmare from which he could not wake anymore.
"I don't think that's possible," he concluded, shaking his head. "I wish it were. Imagine being able to sleep all this pain and distress off in the snap of a finger. Wouldn't life feel so much brighter? You'd wake up every morning, unburdened by the previous night's horrors, spend your day fighting for your life and slaughtering the innocent, and then go to sleep, dream of a better place, and awaken anew." For some reason, the image was even more terrifying than the one opposed to it. "What heartless monsters we would be..." he mused out loud.
Incapable of feeling, able to brush off the horrors of what they'd seen and committed... What kind of a sane mind would be able to do that?
"No, we can't just sleep it off, and I'm glad we can't. Somewhere deep inside, we aren't completely broken, for we still feel heartbreak, pain, hurt, grief and agony, and understand that of other's. What kind of twisted beings would we be if we couldn't feel those? If we didn't feel guilty, or remorseful, or regret some of our choices? By the end of this war, we'll yet again find ourselves haunted, living every moment of reality like it were a nightmare nobody could save us from, and doomed to wait until we wake up in cold sweat for nothing can rouse us from our terrifying dreams." Tapping America's heart once again, England let out a smile. "But this pain has protected you. And this pain will always protect you."
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