Healed By Love

Maple Leaf/ Matthew-Part 1

"Go ahead und choose, Kylie." She dig her hand in, her body almost slipping in, feeling around. Something smooth and paper-like was brought to her attention, and she brought it out of the bag. A leaf? "That's mine!" A soft voice cried out. "Uh…Russ—er, Ivan?" A large man with platinum blonde hair several seats down stood to reveal a much smaller man in comparison, with blonde hair and a curl, underneath him. "Da, I am sorry little man." He had been sitting on the poor man! The stranger stood and took several slow steps towards her. He looked more nervous than anything, but gave her a smile. "Hi. I'm Matthew Williams." "I'm Kwylwie," she mumbled back, face red from the tantrum earlier and meeting the man she was going to live with. She heard a man squeal. "Mon fils has a fille!" "Si, that makes you a grandpa Francis!" A man with an accent she didn't recognize exclaimed. "Shut up Antonio!" Matthew ignored them, smiling at her brightly. "I'll take good care of you, okay?" "Meeting adjourned," The blonde man said, putting the bag back on the table for people to get their objects back. "Ze next meeting is in France." "Hononon!" A blonde, long-haired man laughed, who had the same voice as the person before. "I expect to see my niece there too, Mattie!" "You mean granddaughter," Antonio muttered, grinning widely. "Bye, love!" Arthur took the handkerchief of her, allowing her new caretaker to wrap his hands around her shivering form. "I'll visit, alright?" "Okway," she allowed Matthew to pick her up, enjoying the warmth of his chest. He gently caressed her with a careful fingertip. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you're going to be alright--" "DUDE DOES THIS MEAN I'M AN UNCLE?!" Alfred exclaimed, making her flinch into Matthew's chest. "Calm down. Yes. And you'll get to know her over the week." Canada was actually staying the week at America's place, partly because of work, mostly because of "bro time." The American Brothers hadn't gotten much time to themselves over the past few decades, and even a week together was amazing. This was actually a good thing now, in Canada's eyes, as he could take her to a real home first and give her what a hotel room (that most of the countries were staying in) couldn't: space. "Dude, that's sweet! I promise ya bro, we'll take care of her!" "We?" "Yeah bro, you as a dad and me as an uncle!" "Mm," She began shivering again, and Matthew began to walk out of the room with her new "uncle". "Yes," Arthur's calm, soothing voice brought her out of Matthew's chest. "Erm," he blushed slightly, shifting his weight from leg to leg. "Do you mind if, ah, she calls me uncle as well?" Matthew blinked, then smiled. "Of course. You and France practically raised Al—oh! Uh, Francis, I mean. You and Francis practically raised Alfred and I, so I think you three have the rights more than anyone. That is, if Kylie feels okay calling you guys that." "S' alwrwight," She clung to him desperately, very cold right now. "C-Cwan I h-hwave a b-b-blwankie?" He made a sound of sympathy, opening his jacket pocket, placing her inside, and zipping her inside, leaving her little head peeking out. "Alfred, we'll have to stop to change her out of these clothes…"... She now sitting in her new caretaker's pocket, who was in the front passenger seat of Uncle Alfie's car, in a thick fuzzy blanket made for Tinies and winter clothes they bought for her as soon as they got out of the World Meeting Building. In plastic shopping bags, there were also some other clothes and pajamas, toiletries, and a stuffed Captain America plush her new uncle found and "totally thought she needed it!" This all thrown together from a store, they started to drive back to the house she would stay in for about a week before going to her new home with Mattie. He was occasionally rubbing at her through the fabric, and making sure the blanket they bought for this two-hour trip stayed on her itty bitty body. The heat was on full-blast, making it significantly better, but the adults knew a fever had already set in. A warm meal from McDonalds was dinner about an hour ago, and by now it was dark out. "Are you okay? Do you want anything?" "N-no, thwanks. Jus' slweepy," She rubbed her eyes, yawning. He smiled, giving her form a gentle squeeze, like a tenderly gentle hug. "We're almost there, Maple." "Just about fifteen more minutes to the house, kiddo," Alfred agreed, eyes on the road. He actually had a house in every state, but this one was closest and where he and Canada were going to spend their time off together anyway. She was very tired, but unable to sleep. For a number of reasons, the biggest being that these were basically two strangers who had taken her away from that hell hole of a pet shop. All that she knew was abuse—and when someone was nice, they usually were hiding malice behind a false smile. The thing is, she knew how to tell when the shopkeeper was fake-smiling and fake-being-nice. But not these people. In her short life, she hadn't felt love, or known kindness that was true. She liked being treated nicely, and these people were nice. But she still had to question whether or not it was real..."There we go, Maple," Matthew laughed, delicately helping her get her clean arms through the sleeves of her new pajamas. "You look very pretty! And you're a very brave little girl!" He referred to the bruises, and the bandages on her hands from those scrapes gotten yesterday. Canada would tell his brother about those bruises and make sure the shopkeeper was punished. But how the hell could they do that legally? Regular humans couldn't know about the countries, so they couldn't use the World Meeting as an alibi for themselves if it came to a court. Well, perhaps America could pull a few strings with authorities . . . Or, even better, Canada could get her a birth and adoption certificate from his own country and just have her "disappear" forever from her old life . . .Bah. He was thinking too far ahead. What mattered was now, getting her warm and better. She smiled and giggled some. She had never been clean like this before. He picked her up, and carried her to the bed. Her room had a bathroom, inside of it! At least, this one does. It was so much bigger than her old cage! As she was bathing, Mattie was also saying that she would probably have another room at his house built just like this one He was pretty nice, for an adult and a human. But she was still careful not make him angry. "Th-thwank you, s-swir!" "Anytime, eh?" He smiled sweetly down at her, setting her on the bed and going back to the bathroom to get her dirty dress. "I’m going to go put this in the wash, okay?" "Okay," she whispered as he pulled the covers up to her chin, letting her lie down. "Ywou hwave prwetty weyes lwike my momma.." "Oh? You have a Mommy?" He asked, sadness melting into his eyes. If she had a mother, and even a father, and they were back at that shop, then he and Alfred could get them out—that is, if they weren't also suffering abuse… "No—no. Wother Twinies twold me thwey gwot swick whwen I was bworn. Thwey were twaken intwo a bwack rwoom, awnd I nwever swaw thwem agwain." The Canadian's eyes went white, opening and closing his mouth twice before nodding slowly. That was far worse than what he thought. "We—well, if you need anything, you can just wake me up, okay? I might be back, but I'm going to go put these in the wash and take a shower. Just in case, goodnight!" It was the only thing he could respond with. "Nwight-nwight," she responded, snuggling the Captain America..."Hey, Cana—uh, Mattie!" America said as his brother walked by with Emily's dirty dress. He was eating a late-night cheeseburger—"I put your stuff in the guest room next to your new daughter's, bro. How's Kylie? I checked on her a few minutes ago but she was rolled over so I couldn't see. I'm pretty sure she was asleep." She's an abused Tiny child Alfred, I don't think she'll be okay for a while. And thanks, I just got out of the shower . . . Did you clean, or have you not been here in a while?" Usually the American hired a maid (or several) to clean any of the houses he wasn't crashing at. Typically the American traveled around the world, or could be found in Washington D.C where his boss lived, but he liked to spend time in a different house in a different state. And one could definitely tell when he was staying in one of his houses. A video game collection was the only thing he kept organized. "Nah, I cleaned bro! I've been staying at this house for a few months now, it has all of my games and it was closest to the World Meeting Building. We don't have to play anything tonight though, since we tend to get pretty loud—" "You mean you tend to get pretty—" "—And I want Kylie to get a goodnight's sleep!" Canada rolled his eyes, continuing to the washer and dryer room to put his own clothes in and start the load so it would be ready by tomorrow. He returned and gave America a goodnight, continuing on to Kylie's room. He opened the door a crack, just to peek in. Her back was to the door, and her breathing was mostly steady. He went inside to get an extra blanket, and heard a sharp intake of breath. He whispered, "Kylie? I'm sorry, you just looked really cold and I wanted to get an extra blanket for you!" No response. Canada made his way around the bed, and saw her eyes shut. Maybe it was just a part of her fever? He knew she had the chills from it, and some coughing had shown during bath time. And she had fallen asleep very quickly, she must have been exhausted. He draped the extra blanket over her before exiting to his own room next door for the night. After he had exited, the Tiny toddler could breath again... The shopkeeper was standing over her, face contorted into a monster of rage. She hadn't meant to make him angry! Really! All she did was ask for some food! "I—Swir—" He back-handed her across the room, sending her sprawling to the ground with a yelp. "I'm not "SWIR". I'm yer fuckin' MASTER, an' you'll CALL me as such." His voice was slurred. It was this night she learned what that smell on him does. "Sworry, mwaster…" This came out as a trembling ‘Sah-wy ma-stew,’ as she was still one and unable to pronounce her 'R's in this nightmare. Of course, she didn't realize it was one. Even now as a two-year-old, most of the time she couldn't pronounce the 'R's very well. "Get back upta yer cage, little bitch. I'm busy—here, take this an' shaddup." He took the take-out box and shoved it in her direction before turning back to the TV, taking a sip of that brown stuff: beer. "Thwank you swir!" She took some of the scraps and stood, running back up to her cage. They were chicken wing bones, but a few still had the meat on them. There were also celery sticks, and a baby carrot. She didn't care what food he brought home—there was none in the house and she didn't eat at all if he didn't bring these boxes. Starving, as she hadn't eaten since yesterday and it was nighttime today, she took a bite out of the carrot first. She took a bite of air. "Huh?" She looked down at her empty hands. She looked up, and she wasn't in her cage anymore. She was in front of the shopkeeper. And he had a look of absolute, pure rage on his red face. "You little piece ah'SHIT." This was a common phrase he said to her, and she was only scared by the venom in his words and that dangerous look in his eyes. Right now, he was a monster that wanted to hurt her. She began to cry. "M-Mwaster? I—I'm sworry! I'm rweally rweally sworry!" she didn't even know what she was sorry about—maybe being the reason for this hatred? "You ran away from me. Your LOVING, DOTING CARETAKER, who JUST wants to keep his TINIES safe!" These words were never said before. "And you disrespect me by running away to a couple ah' STRANGERS?!" "Mwaster—mwaster, dwon' hurt me. Plwease dwon't hwurt me, thwat's WHY I lweft, cuz' you hwurt me!" Wrong thing to say. He raised a fist to hit her.... She screamed, sitting up in her bed quickly and stifling said scream just as fast before her caretaker woke up and heard you—Right. Her caretaker wasn't here, and she wasn't in her old cage. And this wasn't a scrap fabric she was clutching tightly. Tears streamed down her face as she slid down with the Captain America plush more than 3x her size, running out of her room and into the hallway. She stood there, crying and sniffling, not recalling where Matthew said his bedroom was. Or even if he said so at all. She ran down this side of the hall, and now realized she didn't know which room was hers, as all the doors had shut behind her. She ran back down the hall crying harder, sticking her fist in her mouth and terrified of the darkness and her caretaker and being alone again and lost in the dark and the coldness and—And a door opened. "Kylie?" Matthew asked, rubbing his eyes. He didn't have his glasses or a shirt on, but she recognized him as an adult who showed her care before. "I…" she swallowed thickly, immediately regretting her actions. She had woken him up. The last time she woke up her caretaker…"I'm swo s-sworry! Plwease, swir, I-I dwidn' mwe-mwean to wa-a-awke y-ywou!" "S-sweetie, you're crying!" He looked more awake now, and he took a step towards her. "Maple, what's wrong?" She didn’t know what to do. "Maple, Kylie, I want to help you." He held a hand out with a soft smile. "You can trust me."
These soft words helped her decide. She ran up to him and hugged his finger, bawling. The Canadian stayed there in shock before kneeling down further, and scooping her up to hug her back. He cooed, "Hey, little Maple Leaf. It's okay, was it a nightmare? You're awake now, I'm right here for you." She continued to bawl into his chest, and after a minute of this he picked the Captain America plush up and took her into his room. "You can just sleep with me tonight, eh?" He smiled softly, lying down with her on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it, sweetie? Are you warm enough? I know you're sick…" She nodded, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She took an offered tissue, and he threw it into the waste bin by the bed after she was done. She told him about the nightmare as he held her, and she toyed with the Captain America plush. She decided that she liked being held. And she loved how he sat there and listened to her, not interrupting or growing angry! He was calm, and she began to relax. She was really cold, and she had never been cuddled like this before. She didn't even know people could be nice like this. "Kylie," Matthew said once she finished, "He'll never hurt you again. I swear upon Maple syrup, no one will ever hurt you like that again." He kissed her head, letting her nuzzle into his lips before settling into a lying position under the covers. "I'll take care of you, Maple." "Whwat's a mwaple?" She sniffled. "Uh…" He blushed in the darkness. "A leaf—a tree, that's…popular in my country. It was the leaf you chose from the bag. It's very special to me though. Have you ever had maple syrup?" "Whwat's thwat?" He stiffened, and she felt fear for a second before he rubbed her back comfortingly. "Have you ever had pancakes?" "No." He hummed in annoyance, but realized she probably wasn't fed too well at the shop..."I'll make it tomorrow. Your Uncle Alfie will demand it anyways…Oh, you'll love it! And I make the best pancakes!" And Canada meant it, too. "It's technically a breakfast food, but you can have it anytime you want during the day. And maple syrup is usually—oh, um, getting ahead of myself. Sorry. But it's sort of like bread, and the syrup is really sweet, and it's—it's amazing!" She giggled at his enthusiasm, and the Canadian felt his chest explode that he had caused that. "Night-night, Maple," He grinned, holding her (slightly shivering) form and minding the bruises. "Nwighty-nwight, Mr. Mwattie-Mwaple-Mwan." "...What?" He began laughing at that, and couldn't stop. It hit Matthew right then—he loved her. He absolutely loved her, and that name no one had ever called him before that came out of her tiny two-year-old head that seemed to trust him. Being both an ignored country and person, Canada loved her for trusting him enough to let him comfort her. And, well, for acknowledging his existence. So, he was a Dad now. At least, he was since she chose his leaf. Matthew was giddy and excited about the prospect of raising a child, having always been the younger brother. Even if he was technically older than America, they had always been seen as twins. And America always had the spotlight, while Canada preferred to sit back and watch everyone around him. He didn't exactly have a choice, always being ignored, but at least he enjoyed it. After a full minute of giggling, shaking both his body and hers, she poked him. "Stwop la-lwaughing wat me!" "No, I—I wasn't laughing at you…" He regained his breath, and spoke truthfully. "That was just the cutest thing I've ever heard, Little Maple!" "Mm," she pouted, scooting closer now that the giggling had subsided. "I'm sorry—you're adorable," He grinned, pulling her closer to him, seeing that she was shivering again. "Goodnight, now." "Gwoodnwight M-Mwaple-Mwan." He couldn't stop grinning.