Splintered

I Only Wanted You to Love Me

"Alfred, you must come with me, mon ami," France said from the doorway. "Quickly, before it is time for them to transport her to Denmark's hospital. I believe it is only an hour from now," he added. Oregon stood at his side, holding tightly to his hand. America saw this plainly and only turned his head, not saying a word.

"Daddy, I'll stay with Kate until it's time for her to go," Oregon added. "Francis has something that he needs to talk to you about." Her deep blue eyes regarded Washington's sleeping form, which looked long and slight beneath the blankets. America sighed.

"Fine," he said, pushing himself up. He felt guilty for leaving her side, because wasn't that what he always had done? She would rage against him and he would back away, sometimes pushing her, sometimes screaming back at her to just go, see if he cared.

She would be fine, but she was dangerously exhausted and according to their special doctor, there was no telling how long she would need to rest.

As Oregon settled into the chair he had just vacated, France bent down to her and she turned her face to kiss him. America noticed this, too, but he still did not comment.

Then her hair moved, and he saw the clear mark of France's teeth, precise and perfect on her neck.

It could be worse, he thought, though he didn't like it one bit.

"Your daughter is a fine young woman, Alfred," France said as he swept America down the hall. "I have been meaning to speak with you about her. I am sure you have noticed that I have marked her. We can wait until this is all settled," he added. "I will not be able to offer her anything for many years, I'm afraid. We have agreed to wait," he repeated. "But I am proud to call her my woman, Amérique. She is of great renown in la Normandie. Many of my citizens owe her their lives."

Slowly America became aware of the gravity of France's words. "What? Oregon? But she's so...soft," he murmured.

"Mon ami, she experienced great and terrible things the day she jumped into hell," France replied. "You do not know, because she did not want to tell you. But my people are free again to be French because of her. Because of all of them."

America frowned thoughtfully. "Where are we going?"

"Here." France threw open a set of double doors, and America found himself in the hospital chapel. As with all Germany's hospitals now, this was more of a place for grief than for actual worship. The sadness in the room was palpable.

"Mattie!"

Canada turned towards him, holding a large book in his lap.

America threw himself down next to his brother. "I thought you were going to help Nederland. Why are you still here?"

"I couldn't just leave, Al," Canada said. "Katie needs us."

"Mon fils, Oregon is right," France reminded him gently. "Washington would expect you to keep your promises to him."

"And what about my promise to her?" Canada exclaimed. Suddenly, America understood how his brother felt, because he had never in his life felt as invisible as he did at that moment. The grief on Canada's face hurt him to look at. "I promised to keep her safe, and look what happened! I ran away from her when she needed me and Prussia almost destroyed her!"

"She is not destroyed, and she will be fine," France said firmly.

"I'm no better than him," Canada exclaimed, making an angry gesture at America.

"Matthieu!"

Canada whirled on America, ignoring their papa. "You've never loved her," he accused. "The only reason you're here right now is because you feel guilty! You don't care whether she lives or dies. You never have!"