Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 24

Canada was driving back to his home, just outside of Ottawa. It was a simple drive from the military base he had landed at a few hours prior, one that Canada had practically memorized due to how frequently he had been flying to Europe these past months. However, what was not normal was for his grandmother, England, to be in the passenger seat, hair up in a bun and face drawn into an... interesting expression as she fixed her make-up with her hand-held compact.

It made sense for her to come with him. With his father being missing for over three weeks now, the countries that made up the United Kingdom were as vulnerable as ever. If even one of them was captured, it could spell disaster for both his father, the country's people, and the whole war effort. So, the decision was made to take the countries elsewhere for the time being, preferably off of the continent. Grandfather Scotland went with Aussie, Wales went with New Zealand, Northern Ireland went with Brazil, and Canada had been tasked with England.

Canada glanced over at his grandmother, who had put her compact away with a dissatisfied huff. "This is ridiculous."

"Oh! U-um, pardon?" Canada asked, trying to force his voice to remain calm and polite. He always felt nervous around her, though he couldn't exactly pin-point why. A small part of him thought it was because he was born French, but that would be down-right petty to resent him for, right? Afterall, he had no control over who he was born to, and had been a part of the British family for over a century now. Still, if anyone was going to be petty, it would be her. It was one of the things his father got from her. In fact, the two acted scarily similar at times, and Canada wondered if his father was this uncomfortable to be around as well when one did not have the privilege of his fondness.

"This!" She gestured towards the window of the automobile, the suburban homes whizzing by as she continued. "I have to come over to the backwaters of the world, simply because my union couldn't do his job."

He bit back the slight offense he felt at his continent being referred to as the backwaters of the world. America would have immediately picked a fight, and although he had found himself emulating some of her behavior recently, he did not want to copy her interactions with their grandmother. If he thought her interactions with his father were uncomfortable at times, then the ones with his grandmother were down-right painful to be near. It would usually start out okay, with forced smiles and diplomatic politeness. But then England would comment on something, America wouldn't be able to simply let it go, and it would all spiral down-ward from there. In fact, America actively avoided her most of the time, and the few times they had interacted long enough to hold a conversation had ended with screaming and his dear sister almost throwing his grandmother out of a three story window.

"I-um..." He struggled to come up with a response, eventually settling on, "My father was trying his best, and I am sure he still is. "

"Trying does not mean a thing. 'Either get results or do not come home' that's what I always told him. Unfortunately, it seems that none of that could stop him from causing disaster wherever he goes." She scoffed, "Not that I'm surprised. It has never stopped his failures before."

"L-like what?" He responded, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he gulped. Jesus, he had no clue how to navigate this conversation.

"Ugh, French-boy, you have no idea." Was that supposed to be a term of endearment? In all the years England has called him that, he could never figure it out. "From the moment he came into the world, I knew he was trouble. He took after his father, the Celtic B*stard. Now, the good Lord knows I tried my best to reform him, but one can only do so much for someone doomed to fail by genealogy alone."

"Uh- wait." The gears seemed to turn in his head, slowly but surely, as he pieced together what his grandmother was implying. "Are you saying he was too-"