A/N: so Alexiel had a dream and gave me a funny thought in my head because Hannah hates Mexico with a passion.
Hannah pulled her fiery red, curled hair back into a ponytail and looked over the papers that had been left on her desk. She honestly hated the paper work and wished often to retreat to the ranch she kept outside of the city of Austin. In town, however, she lived in a large home fit for entertaining the other states as well as America when he visited. It also served to house some of the other nations should they drop by and need a place to stay. There was also the Driskill, the oldest and grandest hotel in town, but as Texas she couldn't just leave them to go to the hotel unless they wanted to. She had requested the house to be built nearby the French Legation that had been turned into a museum in remembrance of her once sovereignty as a country. As it was, even as a state, she alone had the sole promise of leaving the union should her governor and she decide to not remain Americans and go back to being the Republic of Texas. She, as the people of Texas, had the ability and responsibility to speak for them and consider their wishes should it come to it.
In the distance she could see the capital building, a tall building made in the almost exact image of America's capital building. It was made from the native pink granite and slightly taller than the American capital building however. The air was dry and the wind blowing through was of only a margin of comfort, but she still was dehydrated a bit from the lack of rain a goodly portion of her home received. It was spring, her wild flowers should be in bloom, but they were not. The bluebonnets on the sides of the roads, the Indian paintbrushes and the black-eyed Susans should be creating a colorful display for all of the people to view, but the lack of water had forced them to only bloom sparingly. It was still early spring, though, and that meant that there was still hope for rain later.
She stood up from her desk and walked to the one window that faced a small portion of the French Legation, hidden by trees and bushes. Gazing at it, the slightly old and almost run down look of the old building, she could still see it as it once was when it was built.
France sent a representative to Texas to approve of her being a nation. She vaguely remembered France from her youth when he had tried to help some of his people to settle on her shores. He had dressed her up in the finest clothes he had, dressed her wild red hair for her in girlish fashions, but he could never take the temper tantrums she was prone to, the weather that she held for anyone who lived on her land, and the Native American Indians that roamed her. Still, it was entertaining whenever he went tumbling feet over head when he angered her somehow. In the end he had left her with the rest of his people and went back home with them before coming back to Louisiana. Spain, meanwhile, had managed to handle her wilds well enough and indeed he was rather nice.
So she stood in the hall that the party she was being forced to attend was being held, wearing a dress of pale blue that showed off her shoulders and some of her bountiful cleavage. For the first time since the war with Mexico she felt girlish again and tried to keep what composure she had left to her so that she wouldn't go running through the room making her skirts flutter. Of course if she had done this it was almost guaranteed the men and women would regard her none too kindly while her own leaders would pull her aside and scold her.
And then she saw him. He was flirting with some young ladies, drinking and smiling at them with that beautiful smile of his. She hid behind a few men and watched him shyly, big blue eyes staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. Her slightly tanned cheeks flushed pink as she continued to stare at him, her heart beginning to pound in her breast. It was like the first time she had met Mexico after Spain had left her and California to him. What had happened to the strange man who kept trying to pretty her up like a doll? What happened to the man who played with her red curls and made her up like one of his own?
She felt a shove behind her and looked back to see President Lamar looking at her before making a "shoo" motion at her to make her move forward. She did so stiffly at first and then straightened herself up like she was back home. The result was awkward and looked entirely too bold and manly for the look of a pretty, young, red haired woman in a frilly blue gown. When he looked up it was because the ladies noticed her walking over and giving her a rather nasty expression, though not wholly so. Mostly they looked curious as to why she was walking over to them like she was, but the moment they looked up and the man looked to see where they were staring Hannah's middle went all squishy inside.
Francis gazed at her approvingly, a steady smirk playing across his handsome face as he looked her over. "Excusez-moi, ma belle, mais je sais que vous?" he asked, his smooth velvet voice sliding into her ears all too pleasantly.
"Ah," she managed to say, "Sorry, what did y'say?" To her own ears her accent suddenly became too obnoxious and foul sounding compared how Francis spoke to her.
"I asked, ma belle," said Francis, smiling at her, "if I should know you."
Hannah had the sudden urge to hit him. Of course he should know her! After all, he spent three years with her trying to doll her up! She reigned in her irritation and took a deep breath to concentrate on not causing a scene in front of everyone. She forced a smile on her face and tried her best to look genuinely sweet. "Of course you should, silly! You met me a long time ago when I was a kid."
And again Hannah suddenly wished she could find someplace to bury herself right then and there. The pair of young women who had also been trying to charm France started giggling behind their hands and looking to each other. As usual, no one but the men she was in close contact with, the president, Lamar, and his close staff knew who she was. These girls were Texans, but upper class daughters do doubt.
"You know what? I'll just be over this way," said Hannah after a moment of stunned silence from Francis. Her cheeks burning, she made her way out of the hall that had been erected for such meetings. Her home was in the town, though for the moment it was nothing grand. Most of the homes around her were pretty simple and nothing to brag about to the Republic of France.
She made her way past President Lamar and his wife, past Count Dubois de Saligny or whatever his name was, and went off as fast as possible to the outside. Outside it was a clear night with a full moon out and plenty of stars littering the sky; it was her favorite weather. There, she found a spot in the grass and sat down, taking in deep breaths as she tried to steady her nerves. She had fought against Mexico and won against incredible odds with her many devoted men behind her backing her up and yet she had trouble trying to talk to the far too handsome for his own good France.
Why did President Lamar so want to have her recognized as a republic, as a nation? Especially to the Europeans! America she could understand because he was closer, but to try to get her to charm France into recognizing her as a nation seemed utterly impossible and more than a little ridiculous.
"A lady should not be alone outside," said that velvety smooth voice of Francis as he eyed her from a small distance, practically sparkling in the moonlight. What was it with him and looking so pretty that he might as well not be real? It irritated Hannah to no end and yet when he spoke her nerves went on total alert. "Should I accompany you, ma belle?"
Hannah looked up at him and gave up. There was no point in trying to be sweet and cute anymore, was there? "Go ahead if y'want, honey, I ain't stoppin' you."
He smirked faintly at her before chuckling softly and seating himself down in the grass next to her, though he did look adversely toward the grass that might stain his clothes. After he seemed to make himself comfortable, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently, his lips soft against her rougher skin. She flushed darkly as she looked at him in surprise. "I remember now," he said in an even smoother tone than before, sending her heart thumping once more as she stared at him with wide blue eyes, "The child I watched over for a time when I tried to help my own people live over here. You have grown very lovely, ma belle, very lovely."
"I-I've declared independence from Mexico," said Hannah, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.
"And have you chosen a name for yourself?" he asked, lowering her hand, but not letting go of it. Oh no, instead he was stroking her skin with his thumb.
"Hannah," she said, "Hannah Cook."
"Hmmm, that is a nice name," said Francis softly, "Although Cook sounds too common for a beauty as you."
Hannah flushed a bit more and pulled her hand away and folded them in her lap, which only made her breasts squish together more for viewing. Francis eyed them for a moment, approvingly, before he looked back to her eyes. "Mr. Lamar wants me to charm you into recognizing me as an independent nation," she said finally.
"Well, that takes a lot of observation, you know," he said smoothly, "I may have to observe you for a while before I can make that judgment."
Hannah eyed him, smirking faintly. "Observe me? And just how do you intend to observe me, huh?"
"Oh, in my own time, of course," he said, smiling, "Slowly, deliberately… until I am thoroughly certain of what you are." The way he spoke made her body heat raise sharply, the smile on his lips giving her a shiver as she imagined just what sort of slow, deliberate, thorough observation of her would entail.
Hannah smirked faintly in spite of the sudden hot, squishy feeling inside her. "You're on."
A light went on in the old museum. Hannah could just make it out as she saw it light up through the leaves in the trees and bushes. Likely it was one of the caretakers going in to check things out. It wasn't suspicious and Hannah didn't have a suspicious feeling about it. The Daughters of the Republic of Texas took care of their own and the Legation was one of their own.
Francis's mouth was on hers, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. She obliged with a moan as her arms wound around his neck. His tongue twined with hers in slow motions, her mouth was as hot as the sun, however. Her entire body was on fire, practically. His naked body settled over hers, the golden hair on his chest and stomach tickling her pleasantly as he settled. His voice, when he spoke against her lips, was husky and needy, but still held that same velvety smoothness that sent shivers through her body, "Votre corps a grandi si chaud pour moi, ma belle Hannah. Je me demande comment vous êtes mouillé pour moi."
As he spoke, one of his hands trailed over her stomach, fingers gently tracing over one of her thighs to reach the core of her as he pressed his fingers inside her. Slowly he thrust them in and out of her as he watched her react to him. "Déjà humide pour moi? Vous voulez que je doit beaucoup."
Hannah arched against him as his mouth closed around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking against it. She moaned and writhed beneath him, her hips moving in time with his fingers. He pinched the other nipple and she let out a loud yelp, her body stiffening slightly as he played with the sensitive bud. "Francis," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
When he thrust into her she responded wonderfully, the wildness of her coming out of her. They moved together, her cries loud, his groans low, their limbs entangled. It was mind numbing what he did to her! The feel of his cock inside her, the feel of his body between her legs, the feel of his weight on top of her, it all served to spur her onward until a blinding feeling of pleasure shook her inside and out. She jerked slightly underneath Francis as he continued thrusting until he too followed her, spilling himself inside her. Her body convulsed around his cock gently, she could feel it nestled inside her as their hearts slowed down a little.
He whispered into her ear once more in his own language, but she once more could not understand a lick of it. She smiled warmly and kissed him, letting him roll her on top of him. He chuckled and ran his hands over her back and rear, cupping her rear in his hands. "Sit up and let me gaze upon you," he said, "I want to see you clearly again, mon chere."
Hannah flushed and sat up. Her breasts were heavy and her waist was small, but her shoulders were broad and muscled. He reached up and ran his fingers over her cheeks and brushed his thumbs against her lips. She kissed them and took them into his mouth as he watched. She looked down to see the look in his eyes growing hungry again and that ever present perverted grin spreading further across his handsome features. "You are beautiful," he said, smiling genuinely now.
"So are you," said Hannah, smiling down at him.
He ran his hands over her neck and cupped her large breasts in his hands, massaging them as he did so. He sat up and nuzzled between them, his arms wrapping around her. "Beautiful and soft," he muttered.
Hannah flushed at the memories that came to her. The light went out at the Legation and the caretaker left and made sure everything was locked before driving away. In the darkness of the night she could still see Francis standing on the porch, waving to her from the top of the hill. Never again would he come her way, though.
That damned Saligny! It was his fault that Francis didn't want to stay anymore! Richrd Bullock was a good man and Saligny kept raising a fuss with Bullock over Bullock's pigs getting into Saligny's yard. He even went so far as to shoot nearly the entire group of animals! Oh, but Francis wasn't pleased either. He would have rather things go smoothly so he could get back to enjoying being with Hannah or any of the other ladies around. He didn't like the prospect of having to leave, but knew it was inevitable.
Hannah watched as Francis ordered a couple of men to take his things out of the Legation and put it on a cart to go to the coast. Part of her hurt inside to see him leaving, but she steeled herself against it. She didn't need her heart broken again, not even by the weird, but handsome Francis. She refused to allow it to be taken in just to let it be smashed to bits once more and have more people hurt for her sake in the process!
"I must leave you then, mon chere," he said, kissing her hand. Then, he smiled at her and kissed her gently. He winked and got onto the cart next to Saligny, the driver driving them off out of sight.
Things would never be that nice again for her. She kept the old French Legation up as well as she could, but in the end she had more pressing matters at hand. It was a thankful thing that some people took it over and kept it up for her. She simply could not part with it, even when France's leaders continued to treat all Americans with equal disgust. It was a part of her history, it was his.
The door bell rang and Hannah walked down. She looked through the peep hole and saw no one. Frowning, she opened the door and found the one man she had hoped to never see again for the rest of her life. Diego, otherwise known as Mexico, stood in front of her door. He looked marginally better than she had expected, but then she already knew California was taking care of him some. Oh, it was hard to keep such things from Texas, especially since she was one of the more vocal of the girls when it came to certain things she disagreed with.
He was still as short as she remembered him. At least, he was short compared to her. Granted Hannah was a very tall woman, but Diego was still relatively small compared to her. His hair wasn't as nice and well groomed as it once had been, his clothes dirty, but at least mended and taken care of. He wore jeans and boots that were covered in mud and dirt. He wore a shirt that looked like he could stand a good few runs through a washing machine. His dark eyes weren't as dull as California had described to her, however. They looked far more alert to her than before, probably because California had been taking in some of his people illegally. Hannah wouldn't have put it past him to trick Mia into thinking that he was desperate in order to get closer to her.
It had been the first time Texas had ever noticed California before. The smaller girl was little more than a little teenager with the look of hope and love in her gaze as she laid it on Mexico. Texas didn't really know how to take it all. Spain was gone, that much she knew, and that made her sad. Spain she knew was a good guy at heart, but his leaders could be absolute ass holes. She could still remember Antonio saying to her "Make sure he takes care of you" before he left on the last ship out with a sad smile on his lips.
Mexico looked up at Texas, or rather, stared at her chest for a long moment before he finally looked up at her face and smiled gently enough. She wasn't entirely certain how to take the man before her. On the one hand his lewdness was irritating; on the other it was oddly welcome. He didn't act the same way to either her or California. To California he was the most passionate and loving man. To Texas he was a suave and dashing young man, kissing her knuckles gently and reminding her very much of France when he had been there before. The bizarre dual personality should have been her first clue, however.
"Will you be mine, Tejas?" he asked his voice soft and smooth. Texas remembered he had posed the same question to California before.
"Antonio said I am yours, right?" she asked.
"Si, but do you promise to be mine, Tejas?"
Texas considered it a moment before answering. When she answered she smiled brightly like the sun up in the clear Texas sky. "Yes."
Mexico smiled and pulled her close, her breasts squishing a bit against his chest as he pulled her down to his level. "Then, I will protect you as well. I swear it, Tejas."
"Tejas," he said in a soft voice, smiling faintly.
"It's Texas," said Hannah sharply, "Or Hannah Cook."
"Please, may I come in?" he asked, looking rather earnest as his dark eyes gazed up at her. His accent, as usual, was thick and hard to understand a little, but Hannah was far too used to hearing it as of late and knowing that made her even angrier.
"Fine," she said, moving aside so he could come in. He limped inside slowly and sat down carefully, his body shaking slightly as he sat. No longer was he the great and powerful Mexico. Now he was a parasite leeching off of others.
His kisses had been passionate, his touches hot like the sun, but it didn't make any difference to her. They didn't leave searing paths on her skin because her skin was like his: hot. When he made love to her he brought to boil passions she hardly even thought about. Despite the size difference between them they managed just fine. And it was glorious every time he made her scream his name for him.
She knew that he treated California a lot differently, more reverently, as though she were a fragile flower and she, Texas, was the sturdy horse he could ride as hard as he wanted. It was fun to see her far paler skin against his, though indeed her skin was slightly tanned from being so often in the sun. He often commented on her hair being like curls of flames touching, branding his skin. She wasn't golden like California. She didn't glitter. She bloomed.
Diego drank the water she offered him in a bottle and leaned back against the chair he sat in gratefully. Hannah continued to eye him coldly as she sat down across from him, straddling a chair so that she could lean on the back of it.
"State your business, Diego," she said.
"Ah, you were always so sharp with me, Tejas," he said, chuckling, though it sounded hollow. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. "I've fallen far haven't I?" Hannah didn't answer except with a derisive snort at him that forced him to stop smiling. "You haven't changed…"
"Jesucristo, puede hacer mi paciencia!" he cries.
"Leave them alone! What is wrong with you? You're the one that told them they could come on in, Diego! You said you'd take care of me. You swore it!" shouted Texas angrily.
"Cállate de una maldita minuto chillando arpía!" he shouted at her and slapped her hard. She reeled backward from the hit, placing a hand to her face as though stunned by his hit. "I don't care what happens to the Americans! I don't want any more of them coming in!"
Texas looked to pretty little California who stood by watching with fear etched onto her pretty, young face. Diego slapped Texas again and this time she tasted blood in her mouth from her lip. "I don't care about the Americans any more! Get rid of them!" he said, glaring at her dangerously.
California wasn't going to help her. How could she? She was never strong to begin with. Texas was strong, however. Even with just weather and Native American Indians she drove off France and Spain once and then Spain came back for more.
"No, you haven't changed," said Hannah, "Still trying to charm me?"
"Ah, Lo siento, Tejas," said Diego, his voice softer now as he stopped looking directly at her and more toward the wall behind her, "I lose myself sometimes."
Hannah cheered as she heard about the tale of the Battle of Gonzales. The men of the town of Gonzales were ordered to hand over their cannon, but they told them to "come and take it" if they wanted it. Then, they tricked them long enough to get aid against the army. The man talking to her told her about the battle at Goliad as well, but it wasn't nearly as sweet to her ears. Still, the feeling these men gave her inside was a wonderful one. The rebellion wasn't just her, but it was in the hearts of almost all the Texans. It was beautiful.
"You're dodging the question, Mexico, what do you want from me," said Hannah sharply, beginning to lose her patience.
"I… Jesuchristo this is hard," said Diego as he rubbed a thin, but muscled arm with a rough hand, "I need your help."
The old mission, the one Spain had built so very long ago, was practically broken before her. She stared disbelieving at the slaughter before her eyes. Travis, Crockett, Bowie, Dickenson were all dead, their bodies burning still long after Santa Anna's army had left. The women and children had been spared, but not spared the horror that happened to be laid out in front of their eyes.
Some Frenchman had said that Travis had given them the choice of staying or dying, a slave and Mrs. Dickenson both said Travis knew they were going to die and gave his men one incentive: let us choose the way we leave this world. The whole thing tore at Hannah's heart. Even as blood dribbled over her chin from the slaughter she knew exactly what they went through those thirteen days. Those brave men who fought for her, who made their stand and stood against incredible odds, did what they knew to be right.
She looked up at the mission and she could faintly see them laughing and trying to keep each other cheered up. She could hear the faint echo of a bagpipe from the Scotsman and sound of Crockett's violin playing with him. She could smell the food they must've been cooking as though she were there. Oh, but she had been there with them. She had been there because she was in some of them. Not all were Texans, but by God she chose to adopt them as her own. They were hers.
She kneeled down and took off the cowboy hat she had been given and placed it over her heart as she wiped the blood from her mouth with her other hand. Hot tears rolled over her cheeks as she wept silently for those men. The men around her stood away, most dealt with the survivors of the massacre. She, however, just bowed her head and let her shoulders shake from the force of her sobbing.
Remember the Alamo.
It was ironic that Diego would be coming to her for help. "What sort of help?"
"I need you to… to take them, Tejas," he said, his voice beginning to become desperate, "You should see them, Hannah, the children… the people… they are starving… and I can't do anything to help them…"
"I find it funny you should be coming to me asking for help when America can't take the shit you keep flinging at him," said Hannah. "My answer is no. Get rid of your government and fix your own problems."
He got on his knees and bowed his head to her. "Please, Hannah, Tejas, I need your help. I need you to take them in and keep them safe." It was the same line that he had fed California, or at least relatively so. Nothing escaped her. Not anymore.
"You can't touch me anymore, Diego," said Hannah, glaring coldly at the smaller man as she held a rifle on her shoulder loftily. She tilted her hat up a bit to look down at him and spat at his shiny shoes. "I'm the Republic of Texas now. The boys have made a declaration of independence for me, but I've got my own."
Hannah lowered the rifle and then smacked Mexico across the face with the butt of the rifle. "This is my declaration, you horrible bastard!" she snarled and spat blood onto his face. It wasn't her blood, oh no, it was their blood. She was Texas.She shed what they shed. Each time one died for her sake she would end up shedding their share of blood for them. Every nation that had ever been in a battle knew about this trait above all else. It was what kept them going sometimes and what frightened the hell of them.
"This is how you suckered in California, isn't it," she said.
"Please! I beg of you! Take in my people! They can't take what is happening to them!" cried Diego as he raised his clasped hands up to her.
She had left California to the devices of the madman. She should never have left her behind, but what could she have done differently? California wouldn't have ever seen the truth lying behind the pleasant, handsome mask that Mexico wore just for her until she experienced it herself, but what sort of trauma had she faced for that decision? Texas was a republic now and desperately trying it's hardest to be recognized as such while still fighting against Mexico, now with the aid of America.
When she had first seen him she was hardly impressed by his handsome appearance. Certainly he was handsome and looked quite brave and from the reputation of the Americans was likely very pissed at Mexico for what he had and his superiors had done, but she hardly cared anymore. She aided him in the fight, watching him take Mexicans out one right after the other before ultimately finding Diego and California. Diego slapped California across her face and Hannah watched as California's men declared independence from Mexico for her, but she echoed it anyway.
Hannah had seen the look in America's blue eyes. The look was an angry one, one that she recognized all to well in her men. She saw the look of hatred in America's young eyes as he watched Mia get hit and the urge to kill rising inside those blue eyes echoed inside the other men around.
"Fine, I'll take them in," said Hannah, "but they have to go through due process first. I'll take no illegals."
"Don't tell me what to do, you piece of filth," snarled Hannah coldly. "They send the money they get from my own people back to you and then where does it go, huh? Fix your government. It's in the shitter."
"Hannah! Please listen to me! I have no where else to go! Please, I beg of you!!" cried Diego, putting his rough hands on her hips and looking up at her. The feel of cold metal was what met the inside of his mouth as she forced her pistol in and glared at him as coldly as the most frigid of ice storms.
"That was the exact same thing you told California," she said calmly, "Get out or I'll blow your brains all over the wall."
"Tejath! Pleath!" he cried around the gun.
He moved backward away from her toward the door, but she kept that gun in his mouth as she made him walk out the door. As he walked away he moved his mouth from her gun as she stood in the door way and backed away from her. "This isn't the end of this, Tejas!" he shouted. "One day you will need aid and it will be my turn to turn you down!"
"I already told you the solution, Diego. Fix your government, stop trying to send in illegal immigrants and stop trying to worm your way into California's borders." She cocked the gun and smiled eerily at him. "Now leave." He didn't argue any further. He walked away quickly off of her lawn and onto the street, avoiding the cars as they passed by slowly.
When he had finally disappeared, she walked back into her house only to stop when she heard someone else coming near her. She turned and saw Alfred with his hands in his pockets, smiling at her warmly. "Still toting around a gun as usual, I see," he said.
"Still wearing the glasses I gave you, I see," said Hannah to the union. "Come on in, Alfred," she said, "I'll pull out a beer for you."
He grinned broadly at her. "I'd like that." Then, he followed her into her house.