Cause for some reason, I feel very overdue about writing about this pairing…and I'm obsessed with it, even more than GerIta (if you can believe it XD). I DO NOT OWN HETALIA AT ALL.

/=+=/

What was wrong with him? He wasn't supposed to be one that felt weak about anything like this! So what was biting him this time?

Arthur found himself contemplating all of this as he walked quietly in the wilderness, the moonlight illuminating his path. His friends weren't there to accompany him tonight, and all the other countries were either out drinking in a bar or making sure that nothing was destroyed in their American meeting home (which meant that Ludwig had a lot of chaos to handle tonight).

America.

He paused as he began to think about the blond nation. What was up with his former colony that would allow him to constantly haunt his thoughts? He had thousands of colonies back in the good old days, heck he even had Sealand under his belt! What in the world made Alfred different from the others?

Because, England… A voice echoed in his head. He ended up being better than you.

He froze. Was it that damn voice again? He had no idea what the hell it was, but it was so annoying that it was even haunting his dreams. It would always come back whenever they would have their damn meetings in the American nation.

"Will you just shut up, whoever the hell you are?" He spat.

What? I'm only telling the truth. The voice answered. Think about it, before and after he declared independence from you, he just ended up saving you time and time again. Remember?

"You don't have to remind me, you bloody git."

There was the French and American War…the War of 1812…World War I…

"Will…you just shut up?"

What about World War II? You were losing that battle, weren't you? If it hadn't been for Alfred, you'd probably would've lost-

"I DIDN'T NEED BLOODY AMERICA TO STOP GERMANY!"

Oh, really? Remember how you were fighting three different countries on your own? How alone you were…?

Arthur clung onto his head, shaking rapidly. He hated this voice, whatever the hell it was! What was it doing in his head anyway, being such a freakin' wanker and just pushing the biggest lies ever onto him. Everyone had their own issues. No country was perfect back then, and they certainly aren't now. What was the difference?

The difference, Arthur… The voice sounded like he was smiling. Is that you're still alone.

He cringed at that statement.

Whenever something happens in America, the whole world starts running there to help them. Whenever something happens in Russia, America sends condolences and the whole world follows. The voice stopped. When something happens to you…what happens?

He froze. The logical part of his mind knew that the voice was wrong, that it was just some form of his ego pushing lies on him. But then a startling realization rolled around: when something did happen to him, the care came from their people, not from the nations themselves. When London was bombed a few years ago, none of the nations made any remark on it. The fast reaction of their people, however, was all he got.

The world doesn't need you, Arthur. You're just a nation to them…not a breathing, living country. The voice laughed.

He cursed the voice yet again, suddenly feeling the ground crumble underneath him. Looking up, he saw that he was walking along the edge of a canyon, and the part he was walking on had just given way. Turning his head, he immediately grabbed the ledge and dangled there.

"Bloody hell…!" He cursed. "That's it…I'm going back up there-"

The world doesn't need you, Arthur…

The voice was finally taking its toll on him. Tears were now streaming down his cheeks as the strange reality sank upon him. He wasn't really needed, was he? If anyone needed help with their problems, they would turn to America…the land of opportunity and freedom. Back then, they would turn to the royal country of England.

He was no longer needed, wasn't he?

He closed his eyes and thought about his former colony. He had grown so much in the few years that he had raised him. It felt like yesterday that he was holding him in his arms, singing quiet lullabies so that Alfred can finally go to sleep. Now he was a strapping young man who (while still somewhat childish) had basically taken the reins of the world away from him. This entire time…he wanted the feeling of Alfred in his arms again, calling him big brother like he used to.

But that would be lying, wouldn't it? He didn't want that anymore. He wanted the feeling of Alfred in his arms…but he also wanted the whisper of his name in his ear…the shiver down his spine…he wanted him.

Bloody hell…did he love him?

For the first time, he felt himself truly smile. He wasn't scared anymore. Instead, he felt happy that he had accepted this as a part of himself. He did love Alfred; there was no doubt about that. He also knew that Alfred had moved on from him a long time ago. For the most part, they were just "friends". No way would Alfred ever love him back…

Alfred…if any part of you cares… He closed his eyes. I'm sorry…

He let go of the ledge.

/=+=/

"Alfred, why are we hiking?"

"Because, Matt…we never hike around these parts!"

All Matthew did was sigh. Alfred would always say something like that, but they would always end up hiking in the usual path anyway. Looking up, he saw that for the first time since ever Alfred was going down a different pathway. And for the first time, the path didn't look like anything that normal people would walk down.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"We're hiking! Duh!"

"Which means that we're getting lost…"

He had no other choice but to follow his dimwitted and overegoed older brother. And it was a good thing too, since what ended up happening was that five minutes on the new path, Alfred turned to Matthew with a semi-worried look on his face and a chuckle.

"Um…we're lost."

"No kidding."

But the last time he tried arguing with Alfred, it didn't end well. So he decided to follow his brother, remembering that he was far more adapt in the wilderness than he was (at least, all those video games should've given him some form of hint). After a few minutes, they were at the riverside.

"Woooow, I never thought that there would be a river here!" He remarked. "See? Getting lost isn't all that bad!"

"Yeah, but…" Matthew looked up. "The cliffs look really fragile…they might collapse on us if we're too loud-"

"HELLO TO ALL WHO ARE LISTENING! MY NAME IS ALFRED F. JONES, AND I AM THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! I AM THE HERO OF THIS LAND AND I HAVE COME TO SERVE YOU!"

"W-we're going to die, aren't we?"

Barely had those words left Matthew's mouth when they heard a huge splash of water just a few feet ahead. Alfred had quickly dismissed it when he heard another splash in the water. For some reason, that one gave him massive chills down his spine. Matthew looked up at his pale face.

"B-brother?"

Alfred darted down the path, forcing Matthew to follow him. The whole time, the American felt the chills going faster and faster down his back, a sense of dread sinking over him. It grew bigger and bigger before he finally reached the place of the mysterious splash…

And he froze.

There was a body floating in the water with the boulder that fell. With the shining blond hair and the drenched green uniform, he didn't have to think twice of what his identity was. He quickly pulled the body out of the water as Matthew ran to see what was going on.

"I-is that Arthur?" He gasped.

"J-just get help, Matthew! Now!" His brother ordered. His voice was snapping.

"R-right!"

Matthew dashed ahead as Alfred rolled the body over, his familiar face confirming his worst fears. Half the bones in his body seemed to be broken, but he didn't want to feel anything and confirm that notion. All that he had to go on was that he wasn't moving and for some reason he wasn't bleeding.

My god, don't tell me that he's already dead…

/=+=/

He was hovering in the darkness, not feeling anything on his hands. Did he have hands? Did he even have a body? What was he, anyway? A wandering thought, without a body to inhabit? Was he even existing? If he wasn't, then what was he?

"Nations can't die…"

Did he have a name? What was going on? He had no idea where he was. Suddenly, he was more than aware that the darkness was extremely cold. He couldn't shiver, only sit there and sink into the cold. The only thing that he couldn't figure out was this sensation called the "cold". Was he actually feeling it?

"Nations can't die…"

Was that a voice? Could he actually hear? Does he have ears, then? Would that make him alive? Then what was he…an animal?

"Nations can't die…"

No…he understood every word. He had to be a human. Memories slowly crawled back into his consciousness, and he slowly remembered fragments. His name was Arthur Kirkland. He was England, the United Kingdom. He had colonies a long time ago…one of them he had held fondly to him. What was his name again?

"No…they don't, do they?"

That was his voice. No doubt about that. But…what was his name?

/=+=/

The cold quickly faded away, replacing itself with body warmth (probably from a blanket). He heard someone mutter something next to him, but he couldn't move his eyelids to confirm any form of identity. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was muttering the same thing over and over again: "Nations can't die."

That voice alone made his heart skip a beat, and blood rushed to his eye lids. He let out a small groan as his eyes fluttered open, attacked by the light. He turned his head to allow his eyes to adjust, noticing that his white wings were out and that the muttering voice had stopped. Confused, he turned his head and saw a figure staring at him with a shocked look on his face. He looked oddly familiar.

"…ow." His voice was rough.

"You're awake…thank goodness." He shook his head. "I thought that…"

"Don't worry about it…where are we?"

"We're in the hospital. You don't have to worry about your wings though. They came out just a few minutes ago…I think…"

"You should be paying attention more, Alfred…"

That's right. His name was Alfred F. Jones…the United States of America. He was the one who was muttering that phrase. Arthur blinked at him in confusion, seeing his former colony with a worried look on his face…something he's not used to seeing on him. He recalled what he was muttering.

"Nations can't die."

"Hm?" He looked up.

"We're not like the humans that we house. We can't be killed so easily. A fall like that never leaves any permanent damage."

"That doesn't mean that we don't strive to live in a near-death experience, Arthur." Alfred stated. "You have wings and there wasn't a single human in sight. Why didn't you do anything?"

"Don't worry about it, Alfred…"

"I AM worrying about it. You've been unconscious for two whole weeks. And according to Francis, a fall like that should've given you three days in the hospital. It was as if you didn't want to wake up."

Arthur sighed and looked away from him, staring instead at the clear white wings that were extended from his back. All he knew about those wings was that they always seem to come back whenever he was extremely drunk and that despite what anyone believed, it was actually a part of his body. It seemed to be the only thing about his supernatural world that anyone else can see.

"It's not like anyone would miss me, anyway." He found himself muttering. "I lost my status with the world a long time ago…"

"Arthur, what are you-?"

"You took my place in the world. You're the super power now. Everyone basically turns to you for their bloody advice because we all know that the Americans are going to be the ones saving the day…" He sighed.

"That's not true, Arthur. Who the hell told you that?"

"Think about it, Alfred. When the hell did I help anyone when you came to existence? I just made everything worse…"

"You saved me." Alfred leaned forward. "Remember when my citizens fought against each other? How you were there to make sure that I was going to live and how you refused to recognize the other side of me as a country? And what about 2001? You saved me that day, Arthur. Don't you remember?"

He reached a hand out and caressed the feathers in Arthur's wing, making him shiver. The strange feeling that he was getting in his body…it was as if he was actually touching his cheek. The only thing touching his cheek, however, was a lone tear going down his cheek.

"Did you seriously think that about yourself? You're a nation, England. Even if what you said is true and you're just ruining everything up, at least stand back up and continue what you're doing."

"…Alfred?"

"I am the hero, of course…but what's a hero without their faithful partner?" He leaned closer, his breath going down his feathers. "I'm only the hero because of you. I need you, Arthur."

Arthur was shivering rapidly, the chills going down his spine from what he was getting from his wings. He blushed rapidly as he turned away, trying as hard as he could not to look like he was getting extremely embarrassed from this situation. Instead, he felt Alfred's hand trail from his wings toward his arm and then gently caressed his neck.

"S-so what? I'm just second-in-command next to you?" He said, trying to sound normal.

Alfred didn't say anything, only removing his hand from his neck. Arthur turned his head, wondering if he had left, and was greeted with a simple kiss. It was closed-mouthed, almost shy, but it nonetheless sent more shivers down his spine. They slowly parted, and Arthur could see that all-too familiar grin on his former colony's face.

"Since when did you get that impression?"

/=+=/

Just in case you're curious, the part where Alfred was talking about the Confederates was based off a fanfic that I read. It's called "Taking Sides" by kirara2256. I highly suggest that you read it. And as for 2001…you already know what I mean.

…First JoKir pairing fanfic. Returning to GerIta now…