http://lalaluciie.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] lalaluciie.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] hetalia2011-05-15 04:35 pm

[Fanfic] Divide

Title: Divide
Author/Artist: Lalaluciie
Characters/Pairings: Fem!America, Fem!England
Rating: PG
Warnings: Bleeding, minor language
Summary: America would no longer be England's little sister. (Bad summary.)

Captain Jones was always a tomboy. She was headstrong and loved taking the lead. She loved interacting with others and being herself. Even during times of war, she remained herself: a bright beacon of light, a mother to all feeling lost or hopeless. She seldom faltered, and she was a beauty. Captain Jones was the personified country of the United States of America.


October 18th, 1781
Deep in the forest a cluster of uniformed men stood anxiously in a clearing with a woman addressing them, her hands placed on her hips. Half of her long wheat-ish hair was tied back into a messy low ponytail with a cerulean blue ribbon and the other half remained as wild, framing and flying across her dirty face. A line of sweat was building up along her hairline, causing some of her bangs to plaster onto her forehead. Annoyed, she quickly wiped it off and freed her now wet strands of hair and proceeded to rub her sky blue eyes.

"Great job out there, men!" she boasted, raising an unclean hand victoriously in the air. The men watched as she continued on, "By tomorrow, we'll have the British right where we want them!"

Captain Jones let her hands fall back to the sides of her blue overcoat, part of the uniform for the Continental Army, and she watched patiently as apprehensive whispers rippled through the men.

"Um… Miss Jones—"

Captain Jones laughed abruptly and jumped in front of the blond soldier, placing her right hand on her hip and raising a fist again, "That's Captain Jones, soldier!"

The man jumped and stuttered again, "Y-your injuries…" he trailed off. Jones gave him a confused gaze and then grinned.

"Ha! Listen kid, a soldier follows two rules," she held up a finger and began listing off, "One! Injuries mean nothing! Wounds heal right up!" The soldier hesitantly opened his mouth to argue, but he quickly closed it again as she cut him off, raising a second finger.

"Two! Never dwell on the past."

"Oh… uh… good advice."

Captain Jones sparkled indefinitely, bringing her face closer to the soldier's as her proud smile grew larger, "Follow these rules and you'll bring a hero among your men!" she exclaimed, causing the man to sweat from fright.

"I'll be sure to do that." He said weakly, trembling slightly. Finally, Captain Jones removed herself from the soldier's presence and ran off, twisting her body to refer back to the men still gathered.

"Alright!" she called, "I'll go find a place to set up camp!"

The abandoned soldier let out a long sigh of relief and turned to a man next to him and whispered, "Oh god! I thought I was gonna die!"

"Ah… so you met Captain Jones. She's one of those… people," he replied tensely, feeling sorry for his comrade.

Suddenly a string of loud cracks and thuds sounded from the direction Captain Jones ran off in and the men panicked, realizing what just happened. Racing through the trees, quite literally, was the captain herself, a massive pile of fallen trees trailing behind her.

"GYAHHH!" The blond man cried, "I—I just don't think that one person should have that kind of power!"



Captain Jones climbed effortlessly to the top of the hill after having a peaceful jog through the woods. She stood atop the hill and admired the view, very briefly recalling it from a distant memory, years before any thoughts of the revolution ever sprung up.

The puffy white clouds journeyed lazily across the sky and the ocean waves, even being miles away, could be heard from her position, lapping against the shore. The tall grass rolled along the surface and eventually wrapped around her legs and she felt at ease for the first time since the war. She smiled and burst out, "This place is perfect!"

"You're back!" Captain Jones halted at the unexpected, high-pitched voice nearby. She glanced down to see a little girl decked out in a white plaid dress and blue ribbon holding up a small bunny. Her hair was short—about to her shoulders—and it was a lighter shade of color compared to the captain's. Her eyes, however, matched perfectly.

Captain Jones sighed and mumbled, "Oh. It's a kid. It's not safe around here, you know—"

"Yay!" The girl cheered before finally seeing what Jones actually looked like. She then huffed and squeezed the bunny in her hands tighter.

"Hey, wait a second!" she protested, "You're not Iggy! Humph!"

Immediately the captain reacted, an idea floating in her head. 'A… country? She looks just like me when Ig—England first came.'

She shook her head and laughed at herself, 'W-why was that on my mind?'

The young girl suddenly blushed and weaved her foot in the dirt. "Um… can I ask you something? You're a grown up, right?"

Captain Jones replied nervously, "Yeah, sure. Fire away."

"When someone goes far away… They always come back home, don't they?" The girl inquired innocently, her round blue eyes pooling with worry and uncertainty. Captain Jones bit her lip.

"You shouldn't always depend on others to find you!" She cried, and she felt as though she were now talking to herself as she lowered her stern gaze and was plunged into her own memories, "They might end up disappointing you…"


September 16th, 1763
America jumped onto the windowsill and stuck her face in the window, brightening when she saw her mentor pacing up the front porch steps to enter the house. America hurriedly hopped off the windowsill and ran to the front door, smoothing her ruffled dress and fingering through her hair to look presentable. She rocked on her heel, waiting for her bigger sister to enter the household.

As if on cue, England opened the door and swung her coat off, setting it on the rack. She looked up to find America standing there, waiting.

"Iggy!" the young teenager cried in excitement, "You're back!"

The older woman smiled and a soft blush spread across her cheeks. "It's a wonder how much you've grown, America." The last time they physically saw each other was a while ago, back when America was just a child.

America clasped her hands in front of her mouth and jumped, "Where have you been all this time? Tell me!"

England laughed and nodded, the loose strands from her neat bun flowing from the movement.

"Well, alright!"

Suddenly England began laughing and turning bright red, talking to herself.

("We went to the fairy kingdom! We had so many adventures! We saved everyone and were knighted as heroes!" the fairy bragged, circling England's head.)

England fanned herself and brushed her fingertips against her chest in embarrassment. "Oh come now, you two! Let me tell the story!" she ordered playfully. America winced and tried to keep her poker face, but she was utterly perplexed by England's behavior, as she failed to see the fairies conversing with her friend.

'Wh-what is she looking at?' America asked herself. "Huh?" was all she could say, a trickle of sweat rolling down her cheek as England began to twirl childishly about the room.

"They've invited us to dance!" The woman purred cheerfully, oblivious to her charge's concern.

Finally, America recomposed herself and pensively brought her hands together, "Iggy, I've been meaning to ask…" England stopped and waited for the girl to continue on.

"Where is the fairy kingdom? Are there kingdoms here, too?"

England smiled again and informed her little sister, "In Great Britain… of course!"

America's shoulders slumped and the corners of her mouth tugged down into a tiny frown. "Oh. I see."

"But America is part of the fairy kingdom— Under Great Britain's just rule!" England quickly added, figuring it would satisfy the teenager. America nodded, feigning a fake smile, but inside she was hurt.

'To England… I was a fragile English girl.'

"Oh! I-I'll go put on some tea!" America said hastily, dashing out of the room to the kitchen to prepare tea for the two. After it was made, she brought it back and sat across from England, sipping her tea bitterly.

'But on the inside, I burned like fire. I could practically hear the unrest. The revolt.'


August 15th, 1767
"'The Townshend Acts,' huh? How could she…?" America whispered, wrapping her arms queasily around her stomach.

"America!" She cocked her head, seeing England stomping towards her. America's eyes grew dark and she made a face.

England fumed, her face red with growing irritation. "Why are all of the dresses I bought you on the floor?"

America scoffed and shifted so her back was completely to the woman, but she looked over her shoulder, "Are you going to charge me for it?"

England paused and sweat gathered at the back of her neck, mixing into her hair. 'What?'

America continued on icily, "With all of these taxes being placed behind my back, who knows what's next?"

England remained speechless and the air was still and tense, with neither of the girls making an effort to speak until finally the youngest whipped around and shouted. "Leave!"

England recollected her thoughts and jumped to her own defense.

"America," she placed a hand modestly to her chest, "that is just the way things are… You are my colony." She stated firmly. An impulsive jolt rocked America and she struggled to keep her voice from quavering.

"That's odd," she began, turning her head back to disguise her oncoming tears. "I thought I was… your sister!"

England turned a violent shade of red, her jaw tightening. "Ameri—"

America didn't bother listening anymore.



'Don't move.'

She stood on top of the hill, her mind racing with the thoughts of her people. She had to listen to them. She was tired of these games, and tired of being thought of as property.

Her long hair flowed in the wind, only being held back by the blue ribbon given to her by her former mentor.

'Don't move. Not even an inch.' She closed her eyes.

'Otherwise… She'll realize that you are looking elsewhere… and never return.'



The young girl with short hair released her bunny and folded her hands, looking shyly up at the crying captain before her.

"Didn't she ever think…" the little girl pouted, listening to the woman's sad words.

"… T-that maybe… I wanted to be the hero?" Captain Jones whimpered, allowing the tears to gently roll down her dirty cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve when the little girl ran up to her, hugging her legs.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes…"

The petite girl whined and weakly pummeling her tiny fists on the captain's legs, "Don't lie!"

Jones managed to hold off the tears and answer, "I'll be fine. Hey, America…"

The child, the younger version of America, stopped her assault and turned pink when the captain began to return to normal.

"We can't be sad! Not now! Things may seem bad now… But there's a whole world out there!" she raised her voice with new-found emotions and gestured outward with her left arm, "and it's waiting for you! Know why?"

Baby America tilted her head and squeaked softly when Jones pointed directly to her. "Because you're the hero!"

"Me?" she said frantically before a whole smile engulfed her tiny face. "I'm the… hero?"

The captain beamed and allowed the girl to expose her excitement. 'Whew… that took a lot out of me… Maybe I can rest somewhere?'

Baby America giggled, looking brighter than the sun. Captain Jones continued to think, 'If I fell back on the grass… would she worry?'

The giggle grew louder until it sounded like triumphant bells, ringing in Jones' ear. 'No… she would understand, and smile.'


October 18th, 1781
"—Jones."

The captain jerked awake, springing up from her lying position on the bed.

"Captain Jones?"

Dry tears caked her face, and she felt her hair was down. She could also tell there was something wrapped around her head. She gasped and looked around, "Wait! Where am I? Have I been captured?"

A man chuckled and shook his head, lingering by the entrance to what Jones guessed was a tent.

"Calm down, Captain Jones! We found you passed out in a field, so I patched up your injuries while you were asleep! I'm a doctor!"

"Oh. Thank you," Jones commented gratefully, relaxing her muscles. Her thoughts went back to what she just experienced. 'It was all a dream?'

(The child, America, was splayed out on the grass in the field, dreaming. "Iggy…" she murmured. A shadow loomed over her small figure.)

'No,' Jones realized, spacing out.

(The adult, England, gently lifted the sleeping child from the grass and carried her back home.)

'She existed once.' The captain thought, 'she was real.' She groaned and bit her tongue before returning once again to reality.

"Hey, doc. Can you do something for me before we head out?"



England and America—two countries at war. Two girls whose lives were so dependent on each other, that their fate of separation was bound to happen. America stood in front of the Continental Army, watching England stand alone in front of her, the rain pounding onto their bodies.

England panted and glared at her colony, "I didn't come all this way to be shot! Really, America…" America quietly readied her gun, aiming it at her former big sister.

"Why must you be so arrogant?" England growled, "You can't make it on your own. You're being foolish!"

The rain helped to mask America's sadness. "England…"

England's face turned demeaning and she started again, "America, you're my—"

"You're wrong!"

England stopped and frowned, growing sick of the behavior of her little sister, but she kept quiet until the other was done.

"Sorry, England… but I choose freedom!"

The elder grew frightened and wished that she couldn't hear anymore, but America was still talking.

"From now on, I'm independent! I'm not your little sister anymore!" America shouted, a fierce look in her once-shining blue eyes.

England shook in the rain and her eyes widened, "No!" Out of instinct, she ran forward with all her might, "I won't allow it!"

Her bayonet collided with America and the next second was all a blur until England recognized America's hat falling to the muddy ground, her own gun discarded, and blood dripping from the colony's left cheek. Horror crashed over England and she breathed, "I…"

America found no words, feeling the warm and sticky blood across her cheek, but she was more preoccupied with England to notice the pain.

"I could shoot you… you are unarmed…" the older woman whispered, holding her gun close to her chest and quivering violently. Tears streamed rapidly from her green eyes.

"I could… you bloody idiot!"

The gun fell to the ground, splashing up a small amount of mud and England soon joined it, her arms stretched out to hold herself up. America stood, unsure of what to do.

England sobbed, unable to control her emotions any longer. "Why dammit… why?"

(America, almost into her pre-teens, sat in the meadow and saw a hand appear in front of her. She looked up and laughed, seeing whose it was. "Let's go home…" England suggested warmly, giving her hand to the girl's. America nodded and took it, drawing herself up.)

America and England stayed silent, with only England's devastated moans and cries echoing throughout the region. America took one moment to speak up, although her voice was nearly droned out by the raging storm.

"You were… so big, Iggy…"



Captain Jones stumbling through the field, being pulled in and out of her memories and delusions of the past. Her arms swung freely at her side as she blindly walked in the tall grass. However, she knew where she was going.

'I don't know why, but… I'm so exhausted…' She stopped and fell back; feeling like a huge weight was being lifted off of her shoulders. It was all too much, but this moment's reprieve was a piece of heaven.

She flexed her hand and reached for the clear blue sky, wanting to grasp its infinite beauty. She wanted to learn it's secrets—how did it stay so lovely?

'But there's a feeling, a voice in my mind.'

Her hand fell back down and she closed her eyes, for once unable to hear or remember anything. The gunshots faded, and the persistent wails and battle cries of the soldiers fighting for her cause died off.

'It's something I've heard before…' Her lips parted and she breathed in the fresh air. She couldn't recall the last time it felt so natural and free.

'As if I should've known it already…' A soft, cheery and hopeful song sparked in her mind. For once, Jones did not mind.

'Draw a circle, that's the Earth.'

'Draw a circle, that's the Earth.'

AN: Based entirely off of Laliet's 'Divide: A Nyotalia Doujinshi' on dA. I took all of the dialogue and scenes from there, and only added some things of my own. I suggest you go read her doujinshi. Captain Jones is America. Every mention of some teenager or a little girl is America. The only other people in this story are the soldiers and England. Anything inside of parentheses are either flashbacks or it's England's fairy friends speaking, which is only on one part. If there is a part 'that looks like this,' it is someone's thoughts.

[identity profile] kasumicc.livejournal.com 2011-05-16 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
I like America's characterization a lot, and I think her meeting with her old self was a nice touch. Really emotional fic, I enjoyed it!