Splintered

Splintered Mind

Arnhem/Canada

The Germans were gone.

Canada shoved his helmet back and tilted his face up, feeling the cold droplets of rain strike his hot cheeks.  It had been a disaster of epic proportions and he was exhausted. The mission was doomed from the start, with his joint force with England missing the mark and going a bridge too far.  This had infuriated him, because he had warned England that they would not be able to surround the Germans in Arnhem if the Germans knew that they were coming.  The enraged German Army had subsequently destroyed the entire town, and Canada had been helpless to stop it. By the time they had managed to drive the enemy out, the death toll had reached catastrophic numbers.

He had later found Nederland and had propositioned him.  Lars had gladly sold him the drugs that he wanted in exchange for financial assistance and help in rebuilding the town.  After all, Canada couldn't help but put some of the responsibility on himself.  If he hadn't fucked up--if he had done it the way they had intended to, instead of attempting to be sneaky--they would have been able to liberate the Netherlands without a large loss of life.

Well, that was out of the question now, wasn't it?

Now he was here, and he had no idea where America was, or any of his children.  Oregon and Washington were rumored to be captives of Germany, and his heart broke as he imagined what they most certainly would have been subjected to.

He drifted off into Heroin World, only to open his eyes and look upon a dark shadow standing in the doorway.  But he could barely move his arm to lift his weapon.  "Achtung," he muttered, seeing only the black coat with its Nazi insignia.

"Shut up, Uncle Matt," Washington's raspy voice snaked into his ear.  "I need you to find England for me.  Tell him I need his help.  I can't stay," she added, as she swam into focus.  But when he tried to touch her, his hand went right through her.

"Tell England I'm here," she repeated.  "I'll be at Nederland's house waiting.  I don't have much time."

He came fully awake in an instant, surging up in alarm.  The mist from outside had finally begun to seep through the shattered building, and he could feel--actually feel--Washington's gestalt signature shimmering like a spark in the darkness.  But there was no one there; no sign, either, that anyone else had been there.  That was how it was with her, he remembered.  Quickly he gathered himself and hustled out to the train station, where England stood with his general.  As soon as England saw him, he quickly excused himself and hurried over to him.

"Matthew, what on earth happened? You look as though you have seen a ghost!"

Canada gulped, realising that his throat had completely locked.  He coughed. "Washington is here.  She asked me to find you and tell you that she needs your help," he began.  England stared at him in shock.

"What?"  he whispered.  "But...how would she have gotten here?"  He frowned.  "Matthew, you are higher than a kite.  America didn't say a word about it to me; of course she isn't here--"

"She's with Nederland," he insisted, remembering what she'd told him. "She wants to talk to you."

He watched as England made his way towards the tall house that was Nederland's, and just before he turned away, he caught sight of Washington's dark red hair as she came out of the house to meet England face to face.  He stood and stared at nothing, not wanting to entertain the notion that perhaps he was going mad.

England was right.  There was no reason for her presence here and they would have been notified by someone if she was coming.  The last he had heard, Washington and Oregon had both been captured, so how would she have escaped?

He frowned deeply.  England had not said that Washington couldn't have escaped; he had said that America hadn't told him that Washington was coming here.  That meant that he had already known that she was no longer captive.  He expected no less, and was glad she seemed to be in one piece.  But what was she planning?  She must have something on her mind, because why else would she need England's help?  They barely associated with each other.

"Uncle Matt."

Startled, he swung around to find himself face to face with Washington.  She had lost a considerable amount of weight, and her cheekbones were even more striking than ever.  "My God, kitten, what happened?"  he exclaimed. "Where is your sister?"

"Oregon's with France," she said.  "They just left Paris a few weeks ago.  Pop and England helped him get Paris back.  I guess Pop's on a rampage because he found out Germany caught me.  They're getting ready to push across the Saar."  She sighed.  "Even though Patton is a fucking juggernaut I'm afraid it won't be for months.  There's all sorts of shit going on.  The weather most of all."

"It'll happen," Canada said.  "Where did you go?  I came to take you both to Paris and I couldn't find you.  We assumed the worst."

"I went to visit my isä, Uncle Matt.  I had to go somewhere where I could heal.  Prussia fucked me up pretty bad," she said, and he was struck by how haunted she looked. 

"Where are you going now?" he asked, knowing full well that she had something up her sleeve.

She paced restlessly.  "I need to get to Berlin, Uncle Matt.  I'm stuck here until England can leave, so I can help you out for a while."

"I appreciate it," Canada said.  Then he thought of something.  "Wait a second, Kate.  I was under the impression that both you and Oregon were captives, so why didn't you go with her to France so that America knows you're both safe?"

"Too risky," Washington said.  "You forget how close Pop and that awful motherfucker Prussia are.  If Pop thinks I'm still with him, Prussia will have no reason to think I'm a threat.  He'll think I'm hiding, preferably here.  Surely you don't think they have no spies here."

Canada nodded thoughtfully.  "I was wondering why you weren't wearing a helmet.  Your red hair is well-known." He gestured.  "Come on, I'll get you some chow."

She snorted.  "I don't want food.  I want some of that dope you've got."  When he frowned in disapproval, she insisted.  "I haven't slept for a fucking month.  It's been less than terrific.  I deserve to nod out."

"Fine," he sighed, shaking his head.  He gestured to the exposed staircase.  "Up there."

She shot him a smile as she took the stairs two at a time.  "You're the best, Uncle Matt," she said.

Sure.  Sure he was.