Armed and Fandomizing

Starry Sky

The next day...

"What the...?" Amelia is met with cold, sterile air and a clean, white room. The beeping sound of medical equipment fills her ears along with the soft breathing of some others. Glancing to the right of her, she saw Alice sleeping next to her, her hand clutching hers. Then she surprisingly saw America there, too, slumped up against the wall.

As if on cue, America starts to wake up, "Urgh," he groans, rubbing the back of his sore neck, "Oh, hey! Amelia, you're...you're awake!"

"'Ey," Amelia struggled to do a finger gun motion with the IV in her free arm.

"And alive," America breathed, "You're not dead. I'm so happy."

"Hey, I said I was coming back one way or another, didn't I?" Amelia gave a scratchy chuckle.

"Mm...?" Alice sat up in her seat, looking up at Amelia, then snapping awake, "Amelia! You're awake, you yank! Do you have any idea how bloody worried I was?!" she drew herself up straight, refraining from shaking her little sister.

"I have some ideas," Amelia grinned jokingly.

"Do you, now?!" Alice had some tears pricking her eyes, "How could you...how did you," she burst in a strained outrage, "How did a Lit-Master Hetalian general, like you, get caught in the hands of a lowly 2p Hetalian?!"

"Whoa, lower that salt," Amelia patted her hand while the other rubs her head, "You're louder than usual, to me. I was caught off guard, don't worry."

"That doesn't make me in any form relieved!" she amended her sentence, "I mean, I am the utmost gratitude that you're alive, praise God Almighty, but poppet, you nearly died!"

At that time, a nurse of some sort came in with a clipboard in her hands, "Oh," she spoke softly, "I figured you were awake, but please don't be so noisy in the morning."

Alice mutters a small apology as the nurse hesitates on reading over her papers, "I have some...bad news for you, miss," she apologetically glances at Amelia.

Everyone sat up straight at this, the atmosphere, slacking. Amelia's expressing had a resigned look, sighing, "Go on."

"...The base," the whole room held their breath, "... of your spine is..."

Amelia sighed as she laughed, "I had a feeling that was the case," her voice subsided, "I can't feel my legs, after all."

Frick, my legs.

The words that he heard from the recording box from what feels like so long ago come back to haunt him. Had she really lost all nerve to her legs? Was there no way to repair them?

"Don't," Amelia chortled, "You don't wanna add more debt to China," she looked up thoughtfully, "Mm, or will it? I dunno..."

"You don't have to worry about anything!" America stood up, "I'll see if we can get you something! Prosthetics!"

"Ye," Amelia winced, "Ain't those expensive?"

"Hetalians all know you and what you've been through," Alice pressed, "I am sure that we can all pitch in a little to help out."

"...That's a lot of Hetalians," Amelia mused, "I thought you were getting me leg prosthetics, not building a man-made country," she shook her head smiling, "I suppose that's fine, as long as it ain't coming out of America's pocket, with the damage and whatnot. It'll be a good idea for the extra money for me can be used for the repairs. Every penny counts, am I right?"

~~~~~

A few days later, two days before Christmas...

Amelia didn't tell anyone and one would say it was pretty dang stupid of her to do this, considering what happened last time. She was in her wheelchair, rolling herself over the salt covered sidewalks of London. She knows where she's going and knows she's pretty much safe. The underground of the 2p Hetalian HQ has been raided and all the 2p Hetalians placed in London's Center. Everyone's thinking of damage repairs and Christmas. Over the time of cornering in London and the drastic rise and fall of the war, everything's being patched up and fixed nicely.

So she knows she's safe. Well, except from one person.

"I thought you'd be avoiding alleyways by now," a Japanese accented voice that she knew all too well spoke into the falling snow.

Amelia slowly wheeled herself around, thankful for the walls not to be so claustrophobic, "'Ey, Starry," she smiled and waved.

There stood Hoshizora, with an item in his hand that she couldn't exactly see. He looked thin, scrawny, tired, pale, and, well, resigned. Amelia wheeled herself closer to him as he staggered to back away.

"W-What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Hey, I just wanna talk to you for a second," she scoffed, pausing a few feet away from him, "You know the ending to this war, right?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Look, it doesn't have to be this way," Amelia whispered, "I don't know you, I get it. I dunno how many more tricks you can pull outta your sleave, but please, don't pull anymore. We didn't kill any of your soldiers, you didn't kill any of ours. I'm unarmed and so are you," she caught him flinch. Was he really unarmed?

Hoshizora stared back at Amelia, the two holding each other's gaze. Amelia's expressing watered down to a tired and pleading gaze, "Please," she murmured, "Shut down your mind control."

...!

She knew.

Oh, of course, she did. This was Amelia, Hetalian General Eastern USA, a Lit-Master, to boot. He knew that the world wasn't going to be so avid in such a change. But he thought that if they could bear a change like Hetalia, then they could possibly convert to him. It was a struggle to keep his fake subjects in line. So emotionless, at least so quick to divert down to such. And he thought he was doing so well.

His gaze finally slipped and softened, the green in his eyes dimming. It didn't glow menacingly inhuman as it did last time. It was now just a human glow. A perfectly imperfect pair of green eyes. Pretty soon, the eyes went from human-looking to anime dull, then a complete black iris. All the green drained from his stare. 

Amelia slowly wheeled closer, wondering if he noticed her moving. Looking up at his face, she saw that he, for the first time in ever, was smiling a sad smile. Though as sad as it was, it had a look of thankfulness, relief, and resignment. 

As if he was glad this war was over even though he was the one who started it.

He held out his hand, the one with the item in it. It was a small box with the Japanese kanji for 'Hetalia' in gold script on the black exterior. She stared at it confusingly, pointing at herself, as if to ask if she could take it. Hoshizora gave her a few slow nods.

She carefully took the box in her hands, Hoshizora motioning her to open it. Slowly, she lifted the lid off the box and looked inside.

It was America's star patch.

Amelia's eyes widened. It wasn't the only patch there. The box had a lot of military badges and marks of honor in there. But the weight in her hands of all the medals and patches made them more real than cosplay.

These were real.

"I've always found Hetalia such an insult to what really happened," he murmured, "all that hard-earned glory and regal power buried underneath the uncivilized, satirical humor of such a joke of history."

Tears pricked at his eyes that gave Amelia a silent surprise, "But in my heart," his voice cracked, "I wasn't really insulted," he chocked, "I was...jealous."

Amelia's eyes widened for more than one reason. It was pure honesty and harsh-fair, to finally admit what he did. What was more, was that he was...fading away.

"I was jealous," he repeated solemnly, "because you all turn all the disgusting scenes and honor them more than what any pompous historian could. Even if they're in a bad light, you never hate them. You treat them like yourselves. Nothing above, nothing below."

He pushes Amelia's hands over the box, holding her grip with a brighter smile on his face as he cries, "It's about time I give it some use."

And with that, Hoshizora faded away in a trailing, glimmering mist of green stars.