AnotherWriterWhoWrites (firealchemist18) wrote,
AnotherWriterWhoWrites
firealchemist18

APH Fic Twisted chapter 1

Title: Twisted
Author/Artist: Me!
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, Canada, Mexico, England
Rating: M for safety. And suicide.
Warnings: Suicide.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After the financial gang bang happened and burdened by the memories America chooses to commit suicide in order to escape the pain. Tormented by guilt England prepares a spell to bring him back. Only he had no desire to come back and now that he is, he wants only revenge. 



“Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Alfred F. Jones.” The priest continued to say.

Canada kept his gaze on the ground solely. There were tears running down his face although he was doing his best to keep the sobs in. Next to him Mexico gripped his arm tightly. She didn’t try to stop herself. She was sobbing loudly and it filled the air.

Canada forced himself to lift his head and look around. His gaze traveled over everyone one at the funeral. America’s boss stood next to his family with a look of grief on his face. His hands were in front of him and he was gripping them tightly.

Everyone was wearing black. Only Canada and Mexico weren’t. They were both wearing clothes America had made for them. A dress for Mexico and a suit for him, the image of the American flag were printed on them everywhere.

The members of the G8 were here as well. They had the nerve to look sad. To look shocked and grief-stricken. Canada felt his hands start to shake from anger. Mexico tightened her grip on his arm.

“You promised me.” she hissed at him. “That if you lost control that would mean that I would able to as well. And let me tell you that if you let me at them, there won’t be anything of them left for you.”

Canada closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. He opened his eyes when he heard Mexico moan softly.

He glanced behind him and felt his heart drop.

The men were bringing the casket in.

It was a majestic casket there was no doubt of that. A brilliant brown and made from sturdy wood, mahogany maybe. There were eight people carrying it in. Three on each of the side and one in the back and one in the front. When they laid it on the ground there was an American flag draped on top of it and tucked into the sides.

Mexico began to shake slightly as more tears fell down her face. Canada forced himself to keep breathing.

“If anyone wishes to come up and say a few words to the body before it is lowered, this is your chance.” the priest said stepping away.

When Canada saw England moving towards the casket he quickly took the few steps which brought him in front of England.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to say anything to him.” Canada hissed.

England frowned. “I wish to say my last words.”

“You already did England.” Canada said before leaning closer. “‘Come to my house America to have a cup of coffee and talk.’ Those were your last words to him.”

He reached out and grabbed France who had tried to walk past him and pushed him back behind England. He then looked up at the others. Both Italy’s, Germany, Japan, Russia, England, and France.

“All of you.” he said quietly. “Don’t have the right to say anything to my brother.”

He then turned and walked beside Mexico to the casket. In her arms was a bouquet of random flowers. If he didn’t know any better he would have said that she had simply ripped the ones from her garden and stuffed them into paper.

They both silently walked to the casket. Mexico gently laid the flowers on the top before placing her hand on the flag. Canada slid his hand over the flag as he reached into his coat pocket.

He pulled the item out of his coat pocket. It was a dream catcher, an exact replica of the one hanging in his room over his bed.

The only two their mother had ever made in her life.

He lifted the lid slightly, but not enough to see the body. He had no desire to see the rotting and decaying body that was once his energetic and full of life and hamburgers brother. He slid the dream catcher into the casket before shutting it closed.

He glanced at Mexico who had her head bowed and was quietly saying a prayer. He bowed his head and mumbled one in his native language. Their first language.

The language that out of all personifications he and his brother had known.

He gently took Mexico’s arm and pulled her away. The once vibrant and independent Mexico now let herself be led away from the box containing their beloved brother.

He nodded at America’s boss who then in turned nodded to the ones who had bring Americas casket in. They took their cue and quickly picked up the casket once more and began lowering it into the ground.

The reality finally hit Canada. His brother. His America. His other half. The one he had crawled in with countless times as a child, a teenager, as an adult into bed with. The one who had understood him more than anyone. The one who would joke with him and then wink. The one who shared his lunch with him whenever he forgot his. The one with eyes so blue as the open skies.

Was dead.

Canada fell to his knees and slumped forward. Mexico followed him as she leaned on him sobbing.

He tried to put his arms around her in a sense of comfort but all he was able to do was clutch at her and sob along with her.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open. He forced himself to watch as the casket was lowered. He forced himself to watch as they started to fill the hole with dirt. He forced himself to watch as they patted the dirt down. He forced himself to watch as they placed the tombstone on the ground and straightened it. He forced himself to watch as the soldiers saluted to the grave.

And then finally it was over.

Canada stood on shaking legs. He turned and walked away fully intended to go to Americas house and finally clean it all up. Clean up the blood that was splattered on the walls along with brain matter. Air out the house that still smelled of death.

Something flew across the sky caught his attention. Had it been night he would have thought that it was a shooting star. The thing flew in the sky for a moment making him think that it was an airplane or helicopter. Squinting towards it he suddenly realized what it really was.

It seemed even Tony was saying his goodbye to America before leaving.

Slowly the crowd left the graveyard. They had lives to get back to after all. Slowly no one was left.

Except one.

England remained watching the tombstone alone.
Tags: america, aph, au, canada, england, fanfic
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