Author's Note: My very first Hetalia fic. So please...Be very gentle but firm with your reviews.

I hope you enjoy!

The house of Alfred Jones was silent and still from the outside, with the dark windows and hallways, absolutely no light whatsoever. If people even looked at the house, they would think nobody lived there at all. But if they were on the inside of the house, all they would see is total chaos. With knocked over furniture, shattered glass, and if they could see clearly enough...blood.

Alfred ran through the empty halls, panting heavily while every now and again looking over his shoulder. As if he was afraid of something. After going through several hallways, he found himself lost in the unfamiliar environment and placed at a dead end. "Damn…" he whispered, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek and hitting the wall as if hoping it would open some secret passage like in the movies he watched. But he couldn't say he was surprised when nothing happened. He spun around as a soft, playful giggle echoed through the darkness, causing his heart to grow cold. "Stay away from me! I have a gun and I'll use it!" he yelled, fumbling under his jacket until he pulled out his pistol, pointing it at the approaching figure.

Another soft giggle was heard as the figure moved closer, stopping next to the window where the moonlight poured in, revealing the face. Dull purplish eyes were fixed on Alfred's face and seeing the look of fear only caused a large possessed grin to spread across the usually innocent features. His hands were meddling with something in the pocket of his blood red hoodie. "You're really threatening to shoot your baby brother…Alfred?" Matthew Williams asked, tilting his head to the side, a look of curiosity in his eyes as he looked from the gun to his brother's face. "I didn't know that heroes did that. You know…Shoot their family." He paused a moment, pulling a kitchen knife from the pocket of his hoodie. "Then again…Heroes notice people. They...help people. All of those years of you forgetting my name are over! The years of all of those people forgetting who I am, what I stand for! It's over! All over!" The boy played with the knife quietly for several moments, testing the sharp tip with his finger. "And even though…I told you how I felt…You didn't listen. You never listen!" He giggled again, eyes crazed as he stepped forward. "But that's going to change. And it will change now."

After listening to his brother talk, Alfred realized he was shaking, causing the gun in his hands to jerk unevenly. "M-Mattie, please...I'm sorry I never listened and I've treated you so badly. But you don't have to do this!" he said quickly, biting his lip as he watched his brother take a step forward, still playing with the knife with that creepy grin on his face. "I can't shoot you! I can't! So let's just forget this happened, okay? See? I'll even put the gun away and we can put this behind us!" He took his finger off the trigger and held it up with one hand in a sign of surrender. "See? See, Mattie? We can put it behind us. You can go home and I won't tell anyone!"

Matthew snorted, reaching out and yanking the gun from his brother's grip, twirling it around his finger. "Russia is one of the few who actually noticed me…He told me if I was angry, that I should do something about it. And…with one shot, my problems will disappear." he said, as if he didn't even hear the pleading that was escaping the American's lips. "It's too late to take it all back...It's been eating at me for years. Eating away at my sanity...And I'm going to finally fix it. You will notice me. And eventually, the whole world will." He held out the gun, pressing it to the 'hero's' chest, finger toying with the trigger. "Without you there…Everyone will finally know my name." He smirked, eyes crazed before letting out a low laugh under his breath as he put his thumb over the safety. "So…What's my name, Alfie? Who am I?"

"M-Matthew…" he started, hearing the safety click off as Matthew's eyes narrowed more, out of anger. Wrong answer. And it was too late to take it back. But he had to try. "W-Wait! I didn't mean that! I meant to say…-!"

A gunshot echoed through the house, closely followed by another. Matthew, watched with cold purple eyes, as he held the smoking pistol out a few moments longer before pulling it back and blowing the smoke away carefully. "What was that? Tell me, brother mine." He said darkly, staring at the body lying on the floor, which was staring right back at him with dull blue eyes. "Tell me my name. And you better get it right...Before the next one enters your brain."

The sounds of labored breathing were all that was heard for several minutes before a faint whispered word was let out. "C-Canada…"

"That's what I thought you said. Thank you for finally noticing me." he said, the frown and darkness fading as he smiled brightly. At the smile, Alfred let out a breath of relief.

"Y-You're welcome...Now that we're okay...Can you help me? This really hurts, Mattie..."

"I know it hurts, Alfred...I'm so sorry..." Matthew whispered, kneeling down, one hand on his brother's hair, the other holding the gun to his forehead. "I'm so, so sorry..."

One more gunshot was heard and then the house was still and silent once more.

It had been four days since the incident at America's house. The others were in a panic, wondering where the world's strongest nation went off to, why his people were dying off...Why the United States of America was falling apart. Matthew knew. But when asked, he always claimed he didn't. Alfred had just...vanished. And nobody knew why.

Matthew was washing dishes in the sink, humming a soft song under his breath, listening to a familiar British voice talk anxiously into the phone. The moment he found out Alfred was missing, Arthur Kirkland had rushed over to Matthew's, begging for some sort of comfort in his time of grief and worry. Matthew was happy to let him stay and was happy to know that Arthur came to him, he could no longer go to Alfred. "Where the hell are you, wanker? We're all worried sick! Call me when you get this and we'll come and get you! Just...Just call me...please..." The younger nation couldn't help but to smile at the tone of his voice, but wiped it away as the Brit reentered the kitchen, causing the young nation to turn around.. "Nothing, huh?" he asked, leading the distraught man to the kitchen table and sitting him down. "Try to relax…How about some pancakes? I have a new type of syrup I'd like you to try. Maybe it'll make you feel better."

The Brit sighed unhappily before nodding, managing a weak smile, seeing the hopeful look in the boy's eyes. "Yes…That sounds fine. Where would I be right now without you, Matthew?" Arthur asked, watching the boy scurry around the kitchen until a plate of pancakes with a bright red liquid was in front of him. "…Cherry? I thought you were more of a maple fan, lad."

"It's time for a small change. Alfred gave me this before he…vanished into the air. I hope you will like it. It's one of a kind." Matthew said, patting the Brit's shoulder before handing him a fork and walking back to his dishes. "Eat up before it gets cold."

And as England tried the new 'syrup', he froze, staring at the young Canadian in shock as he started singing silently once more, a childlike grin on his face.

"Oh, America is falling down,

Falling down, falling down,

Oh, I shot him to the ground,

My...Fair...Lady."

Ending AN: Yeah...Canada is kinda crazy...But it's nice to see he's not a pushover! *is prepared for the hate from America fangirls* Reviews are appreciated!