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James could feel America’s worry as they walked to the room where the treaty would be signed and where America would finally be able to reunite with his son.
“America, I know you’re worried. I am, too, but we have to remain calm. If Britain finds out how to get under our skin again…” James muttered, trailing off.
“How can I not worry after everything?” America murmured. It was rare that America was present when he wasn’t in control of the body, as America tended to just not be there when he wasn't in control. It seemed he was making an effort to be present without having to be in control.
“I know, I know. I don’t like him either, but we can’t let him get an advantage.” James said, thinking back to the decades of traumatic memories he was kept away from everyone else, memories of abuse and manipulation. If Michigan even went through a fraction of what they did, there was little that would stop James from tearing Britain apart.
“You can’t let the war restart. We are just getting my brother back, and I can’t lose him again!” Illinois protested, his voice painfully young. James sighed.
“Don’t worry, Noi Boy. I won’t ruin our chances of getting Michigan back,” James said before entering the room, wincing at the pain in his arm, the still-fresh burns being stretched by the action.
Michigan was standing next to Britain, pressed into his side, traces of fear on his face. But he quickly pulled away as they entered, back straightening.
“If that bastard hurt my son, I’ll—” America began before he was cut off.
“Do nothing unless you want to restart the war,” Indiana said lightly, fear in her voice.
James took a moment to drink in the sight of his nephew. Michigan was taller and older, no longer looking seven or eight but instead thirteen or fourteen. His wings, covered in fluffy down feathers the last time James saw him, now had all the feathers fully grown in.
It was a welcome sight but also a sight that made James far too aware of the time that had passed.
“Britain,” James said, his voice cold.
“United Colo—I mean States of America. How is independence working for you?” Britain asked.
“James, let me take control. I need to have words with Britain,” America said, his voice filled with an anger James had never heard from him as James tried to keep his facial expression from changing.
“Papa! You can’t. We can’t risk Michi now. Look how scared he is!” Missouri said, and James felt America back off. But something seemed off about what Missouri said. While he was right, and Michigan looked scared, that fear was directed at them, not Britain.
A sick feeling began in James’ stomach as he tried not to throw up at the thought. He had a sinking feeling that it was not Britain Michigan was afraid of. But since he had nothing to prove it and didn’t want to send America into another rant, James kept it to himself.
“It could be better if you respected it for once,” James said. Britain laughed.
“I am giving you all the respect you deserve. How are your burns? And that delightful little bayonet wound that my dearest Lower Canada gave you? I know they were terrible injuries, and I wonder why you are resting. Do you perhaps have something to prove?” Britain asked. This time, James’ expression broke as his anger, and that of almost every other person present flooded through his body.
“We wouldn’t let injuries keep us away from finally getting Michigan back,” Mississippi spat.
“And we have nothing to prove to you! Why can’t you just get out of my life forever!” America yelled, voice teary, the exact reason why James was in charge and not America, despite the fact that America usually handled the political situations.
“I’m here for Michigan. I’m not here to prove anything to you. I don’t care about your opinion. I care about Michigan,” James said, summing up Mississippi and America’s points as he stalked forward until he and Britain were nose to nose. Britain smirked.
“Of course. You care about him so much that you left him to fend for himself, and when he was surrendered, you did nothing to stop it. Yes, you clearly care about him a lot, don’t you?” Britain asked. James scowled as cries of outrage echoed in his skull.
“I didn’t know, you damn bastard. If I had my way, Michigan would have spent the war safe in my head,” America said.
“Let’s sign this damn treaty unless you want to continue the war,” James said, eyes narrowed as he snatched the pen off the table, quickly signing America’s name.
Britain sighed but picked up the pen and sighed his own name.
“Now, I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but please don’t hurt Michigan. The poor lad’s been through enough,” Britain said, pushing Michigan towards James.
“HOW DARE HE?” America yelled so loudly that James almost couldn’t suppress his wince, “I’m not like him! I would never lay a finger on any of my babies.”
Michigan shot one more look at Britain, fear still present in his eyes as he walked over to James.
“Ironic, coming from you,” James commented, his voice full of venom before he put a hand on Michigan’s shoulder, squeezing it as he did so, trying to provide some comfort.
Instead, Michigan froze, and the sick feeling in James’ stomach only grew.
Britain had hurt Michigan. There was no doubt about it.
Michigan then relaxed some, probably realizing that James wouldn’t hurt him. Still, James needed to get Michigan out of there and, after two long years of stress and pain, bring the young boy home.
“Let’s go home, Michigan,” James murmured before guiding Michigan out of the room. Michigan shot a look at Britain as they left but didn’t say anything. In fact, Michigan walked silently, something eerily different from how he had been before. Michigan always used to be so loud and curious, not silent and scared.
“Something bad happened to him, Uncle James, didn’t it?” Illinois asked tearfully. James didn’t answer, as he was more focused on getting Michigan home safely.
“Are you ready to go home?” James asked. Michigan nodded, and in an instant, the two of them were in America’s room, where America’s cat lay on the bed.
Michigan remained quiet, and his face remained blank. It was scary.
“Michigan, are you alright?” James asked, releasing his grip on Michigan’s shoulder so he could walk forward and look Michigan in the eyes. Michigan nodded silently. James frowned, “If you’re scared to talk to America, don’t worry. It’s James. America’s here, but I’m in charge.”
America laughed, “Why would he be afraid of me, James? I’m his father. I raised him.”
Michigan looked away and remained silent, and James knew his worst fears had to be true.
“Did he hurt you, Michigan?” James asked again. Michigan still remained silent, “ Michigan .”
James’s fear leaked into his voice, and he could tell the others were equally afraid of the answer to the question. None of them wanted it to be true, but…
“Grandfather didn’t hurt me,” Michigan said quietly.
It seemed like everyone froze at that as horror ran through James.
“Grandfather?” America exclaimed, his tone strangled.
“Britain’s not our grandfather, Michi! What are you talking about? What did he do?” Missouri exclaimed, sounding like he was crying.
“Grandfather?” James asked, horror in his voice before his face twitched as America tried to seize control. James knew that it would only end badly if America tried to talk to Michigan now without figuring out the whole story. Michigan nodded as he shrunk in on himself, looking terrified.
“James, please. I need to talk to my son. Please!” America begged, and James relented, sinking back into the world that existed inside their mind.
“Michigan,” America began, his voice soft and gentle. Michigan froze, and America’s worry only grew. He wanted to pull his son into a hug and protect him from all the dangers in the world.
“Michigan, are you okay? Did Britain hurt you to get you to call him that?” America asked. Michigan’s face suddenly changed to one of pure rage.
“What?” Mississippi gasped as the expression was so unlike Michigan.
“NO! My grandfather taught me where I belong, and he taught me not to fall for your tricks! He never hurt me! Grandfather loved me more than you ever did! Why did you have to take me away from him? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Michigan yelled, stomping his foot and flaring out his wings.
Before America could even begin to comprehend the hateful words, the words that sounded so much like his former father, his eyes were drawn to Michigan’s wings, and his jaw dropped in shock and horror.
“What happened to his wings!?” Illinois yelled, horror in his voice.
For you see, Michigan’s wings had been clipped, the flight feathers cut in a way that would prevent Michigan from flying. Not forever, just until they grew back, but still, it was a twisted thing to do. America had never felt such rage before.
“Careful,” James whispered, “he’s scared.”
Britain took away his son’s ability to fly. He stole it from him. Why? For control? To scare Michigan into obeying him?
“Michigan…what happened to your wings?” America asked, his voice thinly veiled with horror. He tried to keep his face calm and the rage he felt for Britain under control.
Michigan smiled, and America’s horror grew.
“Grandfather clipped them!” Michigan said proudly, crossing his arms. America wanted to vomit as he began to feel unsteady on his feet, the horror overwhelming him, “To help me show my loyalty to his empire. To show that I will never be an American but a loyal citizen of the crown.”
“Lord have mercy, what did Britain do to him?” James said in a horrific whisper.
“Daddy, does that mean Michigan hates us?” Illinois asked, sounding like he was crying.
“Dad, we need to go beat up Britain for this!” Indiana said.
Tears appeared in the corners of America’s eyes, and America was on the verge of sobbing. Michigan just smiled, like he didn’t understand the horrific consequences of what he was saying.
“Oh, son, what did he do to you?” America asked, hoping to figure out what Britain had done so he could fix it and get his child back.
“I’m not your son!” Michigan yelled, “I’m not American! He didn’t do anything to me! Just leave me alone, you traitor!”
And before America could do anything, Michigan rushed out of the room.
“Oh, he did hurt the poor boy,” James murmured, and America knew the man was probably doing his best to comfort the children.
“I can’t—well, I can believe Britain would do this. But it’s only been two years. To hurt him this badly…” America didn’t even want to think of what Britain had done to turn…turn his son into that.
“Martial law?” James suggested.
“I—he wouldn’t,” America said.
“He did it to you. Why wouldn’t he do it to Michigan? Especially if Michigan fought,” James pointed out.
“If Michigan fought and Father put him under martial law, it was to protect him,” Rebecca said, joining the conversation.
“By taking away his free will?” Missouri protested.
“At least with martial law, Father wouldn’t have to hurt him to teach him how the world works and Michigan’s place in it. Michigan knows his place now! This is good! When Father takes us back—” Rebecca began before Indiana cut her off.
“He won’t. We’re independent.” Indiana said firmly.
“And we’re going to stay that way. We’re never going back to that man.” America said.
“Just call him your father, Colonies. You know you want to.” Rebecca murmured, the cadence of her voice reminding America so much of Britain.
“Shut up, Rebecca. I don’t. Britain’s not going to…he’s not as all-powerful as you think, Becca. You have to see that eventually.” America said.
“Maybe not all-powerful, but definitely did something to get into Michigan’s head,” America heard Vermont say as the country-turned-state approached them.
“What do you mean?” America asked.
“Michigan ran into me. He…he thinks you’re gonna hurt him, Papa. And he…and he thinks of Père–Lower Canada is his only father. Apparently, he was adopted by Lower Canada,” Vermont said, sadness in his voice. America froze the words cutting through him. Michigan…Michigan…
Tears pricked at America’s eyes, and it only took a few seconds before he was crying as America did his best to wipe away the tears and compose himself.
“Johnathan, you can cry,” James said, using America’s human name, just like he always did when he was trying to comfort America.
“I need to go speak to him,” America began, marching forward before Vermont stopped him.
“You can’t!” He said.
“Like hell, I can’t! My son’s been hurt, and you want me to do nothing!?” America asked, his voice incredulous. Was Vermont perhaps still hiding some hidden love for Lower Canada and Britain?
“He’s thinking about Michigan, I think,” Mississippi said.
“He’s scared of you , Papa! Do you really think that barging in there and demanding for him to be the person you lost will help? You’ll only further drive in whatever that bastard said to make him so afraid!” Vermont snapped.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” America said, an edge to his voice.
“Then don’t act like I’m wrong,” Vermont said sharply, crossing his arms, refusing to let America pass.
“He’s right. We need to be careful. You can’t let emotions blind you to—” James began.
“How can I not be emotional? That’s my son! I know firsthand what Britain is like—”
“And that’s why you know you have to take it slow. You came around. Michigan will do. You just have to let him come in his own time. Michigan will see Britain was wrong, and he’ll return to normal.” Vermont said, sighing, “I don’t wanna wait either, but unless we want to make Michigan willingly walk back into that hellhole…”
“We have to be patient,” America sighed, “But I…we can’t…we want to make sure he’s okay, we want to see him. We’re all worried.”
“He’ll come to you when he’s ready. I can keep you updated, but right now, he thinks my room is the only place where you won’t hurt him. Papa he needs time to understand. The best way to help is by…just being everything Britain said you weren’t. I’ll try to convince Michigan to come out and see you interacting with our siblings and remind him of your kindness. But I can’t make it like you again.” Vermont said.
“I know you can’t. I just…I wish that I had been there. This is my fault.” America murmured.
“Daddy, you weren’t there. You didn’t even realize something was up until Michigan was gone. You didn’t want this,” Indiana said.
“But I should of—”
“Thinking about what could have happened won’t help. We need a plan for now, not a plan for two years ago,” Vermont said, cutting off America’s train of thought.
“Yeah…I…yeah. When did you get so wise?” America asked, smiling at his son. Vermont smiled back.
“I’ve always been wise,” he said teasingly. “Now come on. Let’s help my little brother learn to love his family again.”