That proverbial noose keeps hanging over me

'Hang hang, pretty girl, hang that pretty neck of yours.'

He had been my mentor, my protector, my saviour, my father.

My father. Because sweet Abraham Lincoln, I'd loved him, truly and deeply. I'd wanted his approval, I'd wanted him, beside me, near me, staring in shock as I threw a nicely-sized bison at him in laughter, growing flustered as mocked his scones and giggling to myself when he talked with those things he called 'Fairies.'

He said I was acting like a naughty child, well at least I didn't see things that weren't there!

But then I'd gotten older, and he started to tighten that, what was the word Mattie said – that proverbial noose around my neck. And more than the lack of freedom (confinedconfinedconfined) it had hurt because he didn't trust me. He didn't love me.

I had just been a colony, a young colony raised up to be his, to owe him money, to be his resource in the never-ending fight against France. Because him and that rose-covered bastard were always fighting about something.

I started to talk back (well, more than often) and this time a little pat on the head or offer of playing in the grass wouldn't distract me. My tone had no longer just been a whine but there had been bite to my voice, words said that were aimed to sting.

I didn't want to, I loved him, I truly did/had – will always? I don't know. I should ask Mattie, he's better with this stuff than I am.

But he backed me in a corner, he waved away my protests and my people's protests and I had always been so free before him. I could go where I want when I wanted but now he wanted me to smile and dress and act like a proper little colony.

And the second I finally thought 'Fuck no,' it had been the defining moment, the split realisation that I couldn't take this anymore, that I wouldn't take this anymore. He's hurt my people, his people had injured mine. Even if no one died.

But he wouldn't listen.

So I'd raised my gun to his forehead and spoke the words that one half of me feared to say, but the other half so determined, so full of rage, had barely been holding back.

"Give me my freedom or I will take it."

And the human side of me, the Alfred side of me, just wished that England has listened, that Arthur had wanted me to succeed in this world, to make a great nation out of myself.

"You dare think you can stand against me? I raised you, I protected you, you are nothing without me!"

My people had been screaming for freedom, crying out against second-class treatment and taxes that took away from those that needed to live. I wasn't allowed in parliament, I barely had my own under England's rule, and he wouldn't listen. You were meant to serve the Empire, the Crown, and it only.

But this was my country and my people and he just wasn't listening.

So even though my insides were warring with each other, even though I could see that stubborn set to England's jaw and that tiny bit of 'please don't do this' under all that fury and indignation, I narrowed my eyes and stuck to my decision. I betrayed my brother, my father/family/love because he betrayed me first.

"Then this means war."

*-Some certain years later because I really can't be bothered to count because hey, hero's aren't controlled by callenders, they control thecallenders. Yeahh-*

"Alfred, Alfred."

I threw myself out of my chair, screaming in agony (it was agony damnit I swear, not that a hero would admit that cause I'm all tough and burly) when all my beautiful, lovely, sweet, innocent but fatty fries fell to the floor.

"Nooo." And I scooped them, ignoring the slight blistering on my fingers because hey, I was a nation, and too much of a hero to be stopped by lame-ass stuff such as grease-burns. Though, that did remind me, maybe I needed to tell Obama to set up some courses about that stuff, because shit, grease was deadly.

"Alfred," another creepy sigh and I glanced around. Wondering who said that. M-maybe it was a ghost?

"I'm not a ghost," said the ghost and I immediately grabbed on to my chair, noting the wispy legs right in front of me.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ghost! I didn't mean to offend you with my lack of sharing my awesome fries, but I'll be the hero now and give you some cause that's what hero's do." And I finished it up with a giant upturned thumb, though my crouching on the floor made it lose a bit of its awesomeness.

Well, I didn't want to send the ghost to the afterlife with all my awesomeness. I was just – toning it down for him, that's all.

I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) holding out blistering fingers filled with fatty fries to Mr. Ghost.

"Alfred. Your fingers are burning."

Huh. That voice sounded like someone's I knew. Someone…familiar.

That freaky-bear thingy stared at me with its dead, soulless eyes.

"Hey Mattie. What's up? How long ya been here?" I glanced around. "Where'd Mr. Ghost go?"

Mattie sighed, and hey, that wasn't cool, cause he was my brother you know?

"Alfred, there was no ghost, it was me the whole time. You just forgot about me…again."

I laughed and shoved some fries into my mouth – no point wasting them.

"What do ya mean? I could never forget about you Mattie. You're my brother." Because that would be a completely un-hero thing to do, and I was a hero.

Canada gently placed that freaky bear on the ground.

"Who?"

"Canada," was the well-ingrained response. "Now be safe Kumadaro." I wouldn't say that I understood their relationship and he was pretty sure that the things name wasn't Kumadaday, but hey, whatever worked for them. People didn't get me and Tony though I thought that was weird but I was meant to keep his existence all secret and the stuff which annoyed me cause Tony was totally cool but whatever. Gotta do what the boss says. Most of the time anyway.

"So what's wrong Mattie? Do you need something? What can the hero do for you today?"

Matthew sighed, again (seriously, did I need to beat someone up?) and sat down beside me. I – now finished with my fries – starting licking all the grease off because that stuff was still burning.

That freaky polar monkey-thing just stared at Matthew with its dead eyes than crawled off in search of something to send to the deepest depths of hell with its gaze. I shivered, watching it, and vowing to protect whatever innocent it would decide to attack.

"Everyone has gone home for dinner America."

My eyes widened and I glanced around the conference room, noting the distinct lack of fed-up and bickering Nations.

"Whoa, when did that happen?"

Matthew nudged his leg against mine, brow furrowing. "Honestly. You're the host America, how could you get distracted?"

His voice, always so quiet and soft made me cringe, because it just sounded so disappointed. I hated it when he sounded like that.

"Are you doing that thing again?" I asked, nudging Matthew back. "You're calling me America and your using that voice, and those words."

I moved around on my bum, looking for a napkin to wipe my fingers (because Mattie had been staring at them with that wrinkled – cute – nose of his and I didn't want him to use that voice again.)

A napkin was held out to me and I wiped my fingers clean.

"What were you thinking about?"

I paused mid-wipe, only to tense and ball the napkin up, aiming for the bucket on the other side of the room. It went in, because that's what Hero's do.

"Yeahh. Did you see that Mattie? Did ya, did ya, did ya, did ya?"

My brother smiled. "Yes, Alfred, I did see it."

I cheered. "Hey, you said my name! Wicked. I don't like it when you call me America." And it was now my turn to wrinkle my nose, Texas moving upwards as a result. "We're bro's you know?"

"When you remember," came the quiet response.

I frowned and reached out an arm to pull my brother into a hug. "I always remember you," and I paused for a second, not liking this weird atmosphere that felt too tense and full of something. "Sometimes I just don't notice you, but I do that with everyone you know? And I'll always be here for you Mattie. You know why?"

My little/big – twin? Brother glanced up at me, with his beautiful violet eyes behind his own glasses. Matthew had always looked a little bit like a girl but he hated it when I teased him about it. I didn't mean it in a bad way, he was adorable, because shit, I loved the slimness of hips and the length of his legs and the way he shivered whenever I 'accidentally' passed my hand of his little curl.

He rolled his eyes, but still leaned into my arms. "No, tell me why."

I grinned. "Because I'm your hero."

The wind hammered against the window without warning, and I noticed that it was dark outside.

"Hey, what time is it?"

"Five, Alfred. The meeting finished half-an-hour ago."

I frowned down at Mattie, poking him on the nose just for the hell of it (and it was hysterical to see him go cross-eyed.)

"Why are you still here then?"

Matthew answered with no hesitation. "Because you were thinking."

I cocked my head, not getting it. My twin obviously realised because his lip quirked up.

"It's always dangerous when you start thinking."

"Hey," I whined automatically. "That's not fair." And I gave his curl a little pull, delighting as he shivered in my arms.

"A-alfred," He shouted (well moaned – breathily might I add too) as loud as he could, which really wasn't that loud but I always loved the sound of it. Maybe another day I'd think about why I did (and the fact that it went a lot deeper than just my play-flirting) but really, I didn't want to think about that now, I had much more important things to do.

"Don't do that," Canada admonished as he half-heartedly slapped my hands away.

I grinned widely and buried my nose in his hair, just breathing in that comfortable, familiar scent but I was hit with something else.

Fire, the smell of fire, and burning and – I pulled away. Tearing myself from around his body.

"Alfred," Canada asked. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

I breathed in heavily. Trying to contain that emotion that couldn't possibly be fear because I was the hero and I wasn't scared and it had happened all so long ago.

I wouldn't ever forget Canada, forget Matthew, because he wasn't someone you should forget about.

"Sorry," I said, and tried to laugh it off but Matthew wasn't having any of that.

"Alfred," a gentle hand held onto my jaw and I flinched. "Tell me."

I shook my head and breathed in his scent again, purposely not thinking of fire and burning and him standing over me and screaming, tears pouring down his face.

"Sorry, just a bad memory, nothing to it."

That gentle hand – it stayed so soft even when calluses had formed from holding sniper guns during the war, but now it was unmarked in this time of peace – paused in its stroking (when had that started?) and I met violet.

"Has this been happening all day?" He asked and sometimes I really, and I mean really, realllly disliked it when he could always see through me. I couldn't do the same to him, because I'd never expected that retaliation all those years ago from my sweet, cute, innocent little Mattie.

I shook my head but Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me America."

Aww, damn, that tone again.

"It's nothing," I said and it started to rain outside.

"There's nothing wrong with remembering Alfred, it's a part of who you are. And I – it was me wasn't it? – I did something horrible to you."

I moved quickly, pressing my forehead to my brothers, because he sounded so sad, so guilty when it wasn't his fault.

"I started it, it wasn't your fault."

"I wish it had never happened."

But we both knew that he couldn't, wouldn't take it back because Matthew was a better Nation than others that had lived three-times our life-span and he would always, always love and protect his people. I'd pushed and pushed and he'd showed me how strong he truly was and he'd been in the right. Even though it had seared the meat of my heart and drawn long keening wails from my throat.

I didn't like being in the wrong, but for this and only to him, I would admit I'd done a very unheroic thing.

His forehead was warm against mine, that soft hand resting against my cheek. We stared into each other's eyes, glasses nearly touching.

"So do I, but it did, and I – I deserved it, but it wasn't you I was thinking about today, it –" I swallowed. "- It was just other stuff, you know?"

Matthew brushed his nose against mine and he was mine, I'd wanted him and he'd sided with England and I would force him to be with me –

"England?"

I nodded, burying those thoughts away because that's not what a hero thinks and the Civil War (any war for that matter) was something I never wanted to remember even if it made my people who they were and a Nation worth of England's respect. Not that he did – the crazy old tea-drinking bastard.

"The War?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Just – it's just getting close again you know, and it's been a while since everyone's been here, and I just – I just got thinking."

Matthew laughed and drew back to cuff me over the head.

I pouted and folding my arms.

"Told you that you thinking was dangerous. I'm surprised the world hasn't blown up already."

"Hey, so not cool bro. I too can think."

Matthew just chuckled and stood, holding out his hand for me. I grabbed it and he yanked me up with strength that others like Germany had only seen firsthand.

There was a reason Germany was always polite to my brother – never yelling at him (though he had no problem in that regard to me.)

I kept my hold on his hand, for just this second, because I was still a hero, always would be, but I just wanted that safety, that feeling of him beside me that always anchored me to the ground. I'd been so alone once, so, so alone, and bad things had happened and I'd – I'd done bad things – things that hero's shouldn't do but Matthew, I wouldn't ever turn against Matthew like that again.

It was England's fault. It was. But we were fine now, mostly, and I needed to stop thinking about these things, because what, it'd been 200? 300? Years now? I hadn't thought about it in years, needed to get over it, seriously.

"Let's go, I'll make you some pancakes," Mattie said and I grasped him in a giant bear-hug, ignoring his pleas for air. I could deal with these memories later because it would be another meeting tomorrow and right now I was getting me some pancakes from my awesome, hockey-obsessed brother. And I wasn't going to think about him on the ground, screaming and clawing at the dirt as I burned his capital, as I tore into York.

He'd thrashed in my arms and my two sides warred with what to do. To hold him down and tear his clothing from his body, to make him love me love me be with me or to stop it and let him cry his agony out through fingernails digging into my arms.

I was going to block that bit out because I loved him and that love had been a little messed up and twisted at one point.

I blamed England.

His supressed sexual desires obviously demented mine, because you know, invading your brothers vital regions just because he made your vital regions go hard as the Statue of Liberty's liberties totally wasn't a hero thing to do.

Especially when you were going through a split-personality moment.

One that had lasted four years.

"Alfie?" And he was calling me that name that only he called me, so I let out my breath, fixed Texas and shrugged off Matthew's concerned glances.

I wasn't that person anymore, hadn't been that person in years.

So why were the memories all suddenly coming back?

So, I couldn't stop myself. I've just been reading WW1 - Arthur/Alfred too much, and I usually don't read historical fics – though I love them – and I just needed to write some Hetalia! Gah! I don't quite know where this story is going, but it's gonna do some awesome flashbacks to the Independence War, some serious angsting of America and I have a serious love for Canada, so hm, well – I'm a multiple pairing person so just enjoy!

Definite pairings: America/England, America/Canada, Russia/Prussia, FACE.

*Edit: Thankyou Fleurdelyse - It was York that got burned. And Canada retaliated by burning down Washington.

They burned each other's Capital's people. That's how it went down. One shouldn't mess with Canada, because Canada will mess you up.

*Edit: Just updated this on the 25th of Jan (Australia day! Happy Birthday Australia.)

Oh and I am Australian, therefore I spell arse like ass, color like colour and mom like mum. A lot of my words have a 'u' in it so please try to remember that. I will try to keep to American lingo when writing America but it was very difficult for me to write fries instead of chips. It just felt so wrong.