iThe gunfire finally ceased, and all that was left after the smoke cleared was two bodies panting, knelt over. The one in blue smirked, pushing his glasses up his nose. His leg was mangled, and his shoulder was shot. The one in red looked up, his left eye swollen shut. He irefused/i to loose to this man. He couldn't believe the blue-coat rebelled. He /ihimselfi had raised the youngster, from a single colony to thirteen now steady colonies. He breathed out, using his musket to stabilize himself.

The year was 1776, and America was their own country, now. Alfred stood up, his weight all on the leg that was still intact. "Well, Arthur, how does it feel to be in the presence of a hero?" His grin never faulted, no matter how much pain he was in. He was excited; all the boycotting and such had finally paid off. He was now his own country. Granted, though, there were only thirteen colonies. But, he was determined to expand his land.

Arthur coughed, fresh blood mixing with that of the dried blood on his already red uniform. /i'Dammit, how could we lose to this iidiot/i?'i He laughed slightly, leaning on the musket now as if it were a steady tree. "A hero? Hardly Alfred. You're the furthest thing from it." His eyes narrowed, and the musket gave way. He fell down, laying completely on top of the musket. He coughed again, staining the grass a deep crimson. Alfred limped over, bending his head to look down.

"Arthur? Are you alright?" He tilted his head to look at Arthur's face.

The face held tears in it's eyes, as the eyes held a blank empty look. A smile graced the face, and it seem so out of place in this blood drenched hell. Arthur's eyes moved to meet Alfred's as he knelt down, concern painted on his face. A hand reached out, touching this 'hero's' face. The fallen solider pulled the face in close, wanting to kiss it one last time. The tears overflowed, running across the bridge of his nose.

"How'd you grow up so fast?" He whispered as his eyes closed slowly./i

- - -

Arthur shot up in bed and felt his face, the wet sticky tears capturing his hair. His eyes flitted quickly to the left, and the sheets were still in place; amazing considering how much he felt he was tossing and turning. He turned to the right, his hand still on his face. It was 06:30. He threw off the sheets and shot out of bed, sprinting down the hallway of his flat towards the bathroom.

"Bloody hell!" He mumbled. "How did I sleep in so late?" He shoved the tooth brush in his mouth, not bothering to look up into the mirror. He was afraid to see his face, which so greatly resembled someone he'd rather not remember. i"Too damn bad..."/i he thought, spitting into the sink. He looked up into the mirror, taking in his tossed hair which stuck to the dry tears on his face, his eyebrows which could use a trim, and his emerald green eyes. He looked back down into the sink and turned on the water, splashing his face. It unstuck his hair, but it still couldn't get rid of the memory.

It was now 1939, the beginning of WWII. One-hundred and sixty-three years since that fateful day. Alfred had seemed to have gotten over it, but Arthur couldn't let go of the thought of letting the only country he cared about. He shook his head and turned, marching to his bedroom to get dressed. He smiled as he pulled on his green jacket.

"Today is the day. I'm over it." He breathed deeply.

- - -

Alfred yawned, sitting up in bed. His eyes opened slowly, shy to the light. i"God...Why is it light already..."/i He sighed, laying back down in bed. He dozed off again for a few minutes before his alarm went off. The sound startled him and caused him to fall out of his bed, his brown jacket still on.

He only had that and boxers adorning his body as he stood up and got dressed, pushing on his glasses. He brushed his hair, pulling at his cowlick to try and keep it down. Alas, it failed. He rubbed his eyes, opening them to look in the mirror.

"Damn, what happened to me?" He squinted, looking into the mirror at his own green eyes. A picture in the corner caught his eye, and he picked it up to look at it.

It was him and Arthur. A pain hit Alfred hard in the chest, and he stumbled slightly. "Shit, I totally forgot." He walked through the kitchen on the way out and grabbed a cup of coffee. "I was supposed to go to his place yesterday..." he sipped the coffee and made his way towards the conference place.

He flung open the door, finishing his coffee and throwing it at a trashcan, only to miss and have it fall on the floor. He stormed down the hall, his jacket flowing behind him.

"Hey, you jackass!" Someone yelled after him. He turned around, exasperated. The eyes he met were those that he was looking for. The ones that looked just like his.

"Ah, shit sorry. I thought you were Canada." Arthur's eyes downcast and he bent down to pick up the cup and tossed it in the trash. Alfred put his hands in his pockets and looked down as well, clearing his throat. He walked slowly towards Arthur, who tapped his fingernails on the top of the trashcan.

"I'm sorry..." He trailed off, reaching the Brit. He stood close, close enough that his breath moved Arthur's stray hairs. He took his hands out of his pockets, wrapping his arms around the green-clad male. He pulled him in close, resting his head on the puff of blond hair.

Arthur blushed, leaning his head against Alfred's chest. "You stood me up, you asshole." he didn't look up and he didn't return the embrace. He just stood there, indifferent.

Alfred chuckled, his voice deep. Arthur closed his eyes and listened. "I'm sorry. I just got so busy...There was a two-for-four deal at McDonald's and–" Arthur cut him off with a hug, his arms wrapped around the neck of this man. He closed his eyes tighter, tightening his grip.

"You better be bloody sorry." He opened his eyes and smiled. "You've grown up so fast."