Among Us|Countryhumans AU

Epilogue

November 1, New York

The crisp autumn, or fall, as they would call it, wind blew all over New York, dyed yellow, orange, and red with the presence of dried leaves drifting and falling onto the streets below. There were no birds chirping, for most species have migrated to the warmer south, leaving the city silent on this dreary day. People, clad in black and any other dark color, came and went from many different cities, states, provinces, or perhaps even countries to mourn for their loved ones.
However, the city itself is not where we will press our attentions to. Where we shall go is somewhere relatively far from the city, in an open plain dyed orange and yellow, with a little mound and a yellow gingko tree decorated with little butter yellow fruits sitting on top of it. The only queer sight in this scenery was a marble slab, quite dusty and adorned with many fallen leaves, sitting underneath the tree.

Two yellow butterflies, despite the cold weather, fluttered and danced on top of the slab, before vacating to the ginkgo tree as a bigger figure approached.

A gloved hand brushed the leaves and some of the dust away, before it studied the words inscripted in red on the slab:

People's Republic of China
中华人民共和国
1949-20XX (Official Years)

A sigh was heard, before some rustling were heard nearby.

A small bouquet consisting of four crimson peonies were set on top of the slab, as a familiar country with thirteen stripes and fifty white stars on a dark blue corner in his face, clad in a dark navy blue uniform and peaked cap with a black overcoat and black loafers, crouched in front of the gravestone.

There was another sigh, before he began, "China, first of all, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know it's a bit too late for that, but I'm sorry."

America wanted to tell him many, many things. He wanted to tell him that France was killed, that he had almost ended up like him, that Germany and Lithuania managed to escape their own murders, that NATO, after some time being detained all because of America, had been proven innocent and left alone, that Saudi Arabia had learnt his lesson and will not accuse anyone wrongly, that Russia was the murderer, yet he was forced to do so by some spies for the Soviet Union, as well as Iran, Syria, and Belarus, that they had the true culprits arrested and executed, and that the four were facing a brief period of house, or rather country, arrest, and much, much more...

Yet for some strange reason, his tongue felt heavy, as he (in a struggling manner) began, "It's a really long story, China, and I don't think you can hear it. Or maybe you've heard about it while you're up there," America then shrugged and smiled, as if he was ending his conversation with the slab where his enemy, or rather someone he had considered his enemy, had laid under.

There was a moment of silence before America then decided, "Well, then, I gotta leave. I have lots to do-"

He then noticed something.

A white marble cat, although slightly gray with dust, lay on the edge of the slab.
It was the same white marble cat that sat in China's office, the same white marble cat China gave to Russia all these months ago.

Should I give this back to Russia? America thought, as he held the dusty cat in his palm in examined it.
However, if it really was Russia's choice to place it here, to commemorate his friend, whom, all because of his doing, had died, America should probably respect his decision.

He placed the cat down onto the grave and gave it a little pat, before proceeding to leave.

~~~

America's home was coated with a silence. It was a peaceful silence, thought America. He had never really enjoyed silence before.

America removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack, before he went straight to his bedroom. He felt a strange sense of nostalgia that had been lingering around since he had visited China's grave, as he reached under his bed and pried opened a small dark wooden chest.

The wooden chest, as well as it's contents inside of it, smelled of parchment, and there were many strange things in there: glasses, with amber lens, a grenade pin, some newspapers, and much more. However what he had picked up were neither of the listed, but a thick and stretched with water marks, probably having been wet for many times already, notebook, with yellowish paper.

America opened it.

'December 16, 1773

It has been a while since I've written on you, so I must fill you in.
"Father" had imposed some ridiculous taxes on tea! It occurred far back in May, yet that still wouldn't change how ridiculous this act is. What kind of country would allow selling tea from the other side of the world without paying taxes (apart from those imposed by the Townshend Acts)?!
As a way of countering this ridiculous statement, I've decided, with some of my friends, to dress up like the Indians, to board the ships of the British East India Colony, and throw every chest of tea, as far as our hands could reach, into the sea...'

America smiled as he carefully closed the diary he had written before he had started counting his 'official years', before placing it back onto the wooden box and sliding it under the bed.

Quickly, he opened his laptop that sat charging at his desk and opened a blank document.

As he was about to set his fingers onto the keys, America hesitated.

Would everyone think he was writing this just to display how much of a 'hero' he was?
Would people think America was merely doing it for attention.

No, thought America, as he thought back to the time he was visiting the marble slab that rested under a golden ginkgo tree. There were many people he was doing this for, China, Saudi Arabia, NATO, Russia, Germany, UN...
Besides, all he had planned was submitting this for the United Nations to read. If he had really wanted to commemorate the many people he did this for, why would he publish it for the public to read?

America then placed his fingers on the respective keys and began to type:

'December 26, New York'

~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 1083