We're Back

Scotland should've known not to trust that woman with a pistol. Now his sister in law was at La Calle with one of his nephews in tow just because she woke up  on the wrong side of the bed. He had tried to reason with her, to quell her anger but she wouldn't hear any of it. It was like Britain had told him. Once France had set her mind onto something, even the Lord himself wouldn't be able to stop her. Just like her daughter. Scotland had to stop himself from breaking down when that particular thought came to him. Besides himself, no one under Britain's roof truly trusted Singapore to remain peaceful. They all saw her as a threat. But not Scotland. 

Casting his mind back to the day Singapore had stepped into his brother's hospital room, to the day she had made a mockery of him and his family, he could only see his niece. No matter how many times the memory played in his head, no matter how many times he saw her scornful grin and unforgiving stare, he could never bring himself to hate her. She was a child who was trying her best to protect herself and her new family. He could never hate her for that. Now as he sat in the kitchen waiting for France to come back from her meeting with Brunei, he wished that someone else was there to share his sentiments.

Australia hid in his room, fighting the fear that threatened to drown him. Fear for his sister, for his mother, for his brother, for himself... all of it was enough to drive anyone crazy. He had woken up to the sound of his mother and his uncle Scotland having a shouting match. "France, you leave that lass alone!" he had never heard his uncle sound so desperate like that before. Ever since Australia had been a child, Scotland was always the cool, unflappable uncle who never let anything get to him but didn't take any bs. He was the one who held him in his arms when Poland had hit him back in preschool. Scotland was the strongest man Australia knew. But now... 

"She threatened us Scotland! She threatened me! Your brothers! Your nephews! Your sister! Your family! Why are you trying to protect her?!" Australia had flinched at his mother's scream. Deep inside, he knew the reason why Scotland couldn't bring himself to let France carry out whatever it was she was planning. "Don't you get it? She is my family!" and then she had slapped him. Australia didn't have to see it to know it.  His mother who had taught him how to bake chocolate crackles had just slapped his uncle Scotland. It didn't take a genius to figure out that France left right after that. Now Australia was hiding in his bedroom not wanting to see his hero in pain and praying that his father would walk in and make everything right again. 

England was in Britain's study when France and Scotland were having their little shouting match. He knew the kids could hear them but he couldn't bring himself to tell them to quiet down. He had just gotten off the phone with Germany and according to them, Britain should be awake by the end of the day. Putting his head in his hands, England wished it was otherwise. He wished his younger brother was by his side right then. He wished Britain was there to help calm his thoughts. But wishes wouldn't help him. They still didn't know who shot Britain in the first place. He remembered what their grandmother had said to them in a bout of drunkenness back when she still graced the earth. "This family is cursed to be even more shittier than a horse's-" their mother, the British Empire had interrupted then and had ushered their grandmother back to her room. 

But the damage had been done. And it was true. Their mother was abrasive to Scotland when he was a child, the whole lot of them forgot about Singapore and now they saw her as a threat. Leaning against one of the bookshelves that lined the study walls, England made another wish. He wished for all his family's pain to come to an end. He wished for the ending of this tragedy. He wished and wished and wished but... "Who am I kidding, even a child can tell that we can't be fixed," the words slipped out between the tears cascading down his cheeks. Like a card house, his family was crumbling down.

"Uncle Scotland? Can I tell you something?" half an hour later, Australia crept into the kitchen to see his uncle hunched over the table with a stack of pancakes in front of him. Looking up at his nephew, Scotland recognised the tears that lined Australia's grey eyes. That was something all his nephews and niece shared in common. They all had their father's grey eyes. Well except for America of course. He took after his mother. Taking the seat next to Scotland, Australia tried to find the words but he didn't have to. Scotland knew in one glance. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Australia had heard him and France yelling earlier that morning after all.