Dawn had arrived over the fort. General Washington lay in bed, the sun's rays hitting his face lightly. It was early enough that he could perhaps lie in bed a little bit longer, get some much needed relaxation. Washington closed his eyes, and then...

"THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!"

Washington's eyes flew open at once. He would have bounded off of his bed at once were he not positive that he recognized that voice...

The door hit the wall with a resounding boom. "THE BRITISH ARE COMING!"

Washington groaned. "I heard you the first time..." He finally pushed himself upward, into a seated position - just in time to see that Alfred Jones was standing in the doorway in his undergarments. "Put some pants on!"

"Okay!" Alfred responded in earnest, before adding. "I just wanted to warn you that the British..." Washington narrowed his eyes, "...are coming." Alfred turned around at once, but Washington could swear that he heard chuckles coming from the retreating form.

The general sighed. He was supposed to be running a war here, not babysitting a teenager!

...albeit a seemingly immortal, extremely powerful teenager whose entire existence was based on an allegory of both historical and current events.

Putting it that way, Washington almost felt sorry for the kid.

-

General Washington observed his assembled militia. He was just about to deem them ready when he realized that one integral member of the team was missing. "Where's Alfred?"

One of the other soldiers spoke up. "Last time I saw him, he was near the dining hall. I don't see why it's so important for him to be here, he's just a ki..." By the time the soldier was finished speaking, he was already talking to Washington's back as he headed off toward the dining hall. The soldier sighed. "I don't see what General Washington sees in that kid anyway..."

Meanwhile, Washington entered the dining hall, where "that kid" was busy chowing down on breakfast. The general sighed. Of course. "Come on Alfred, it's time to go fight."

"But I'm hungry!" Alfred whined.

"DO YOU WANT TO FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM OR NOT?"

Alfred paused in the middle of scarfing his food down, rising to his feet. "Right. Independence first, food later." Alfred F. Jones had priorities.

With Alfred back in their ranks, the Continental Army scattered out. Any doubts that the other soldiers might have had about Alfred's capabilities as a member of the militia were quickly pushed by the wayside. Alfred was quite the sharpshooter, and was doing just as much work, if not more, than everyone else.

The unfortunate part? Alfred had a habit of getting bored very easily. Shooting redcoats was all fine and dandy, but there was far too little action in this battle. So he made up his mind. He watched from his perch in a tree. He also saw a flash of red, and decided that it was his time to pounce.

Literally.

"YIPPEE KI-YAY MOTHERFU..."

"AGH! What the bloody he...Alfred?"

"Arthur?"

The tangled mass of red and blue eventually managed to separate themselves, Alfred pulling himself to his feet shortly after Arthur.

"Pathetic."

Alfred's eyes met Arthur's at once. Though Washington could not see Arthur's face, he could see Alfred's. Was that...hurt? "What?" Alfred asked quietly.

"You can't do anything right on your own, can you? That's why you still need me. You aren't ready for independence. You're still a child." Arthur shook his head, turning to leave with the rest of the retreating British army.

Alfred turned his back on Arthur, the hurt lingering on his facial features quickly turning to anger. "I think I'm doing just fine on my own! And who the hell wears bright red clothes in battle? That's like painting a target right on your back! I'm glad I didn't inherit my fashion sense from him." He grumbled, kicking a rock across the ground in his frustration.

Washington finally emerged from behind the tree. "Was that...Arthur?"

A flash of surprise came across Alfred's face as he registered that General Washington was in the vicinity. At this general's question, however, Alfred punched at a tree in frustration. "Yes, that's Arthur."

The general placed a hand on the blonde young man's shoulder, giving him a few pats as he looked at the young nation with an almost paternal expression. Though he could be a handful at times, General Washington was truly coming to care for the young nation as not only his nation but a son of sorts.

Alas, his concerns quickly shifted as he heard a low creaking noise echo through the forest. Realizing within seconds exactly what he was hearing, the general of the Continental Army darted toward Alfred at once, narrowly missing the large tree that fell where he'd been standing mere seconds before. There was a pause, and then...

"I didn't do it."

"What did you mean you didn't do it? I saw you punch the tree just now!"

"I didn't mean to knock it over..."

Washington just shook his head. Another soldier came running at once. "General Washington, I thought I heard a tree fall over! You weren't anywhere near it, were you?"

The general cleared his throat and nodded, pointing behind the soldier.

"Oh."

The soldier began to walk around the tree, apparently observing the damage. "I don't get it. How did what looks to otherwise be a perfectly healthy tree fall so suddenly?"

The general watched as Alfred walked away, whistling innocently, and sighed. "I don't know." A handful indeed.

Blergh, I feel like this one isn't as good as the prior chapters, but I wanted to get something out. I'd definitely say that this chapter is more on the crack-y side of things (as if you couldn't tell XD). I can't believe it's been nearly two years since I've updated this! I'm hoping I can add more chapters, but if not, I do plan on staying active on this account regardless. I'm just not sure how much inspiration I'll have for this story in particular. Sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long!