Alfred looked down at the paper in his hands. The ink was beginning to run with spilled tears, like a woman's mascara. The painful words, however, were still legible.

Dear Alfred,

I'm so sorry. I just can't do it anymore. I can't be with you anymore. I can't muster up the feelings I used to have for you, and it isn't right of me to pretend that I do.

Maybe it's me that's changed. Maybe it's you. I don't really know. You're welcome to hate me for this betrayal, but please know that it isn't sudden. My feelings for you have been fading for a very long time, and I don't think there was anything either of us could do to stop it.

I know much of it isn't your fault. You had orders from your bosses that you couldn't disobey even if you wanted to, but I can't stay any longer. I need to get out. Maybe I'll stay with Matthew. Maybe then I'll see the good in you again.

I love you as a man, but I hate you as a nation.

Alfred put the letter down on the table and swallowed heavily. Arthur. He needed to call Arthur.

Numbly, his fingers punched in the familiar numbers, and he waited for the British man to pick up. Each passing ring felt like the toll of a bell, sealing his fate. He bit his lip and tried to keep from starting to cry again. What if Arthur didn't pick up?

Finally, when Alfred was sure that he was about to hear Arthur's familiar and cool voicemail greeting, the man himself picked up.

" 'ello?"

"Arthur…"

On the other side of the Atlantic, Arthur's heart skipped a beat. Alfred sounded heartbroken. He sounded weak and fragile in a way that he hadn't in over a decade.

"Alfred? What's wrong? What's wrong, luv?"

"I-it's started," Alfred stammered down the line, trying to blink back the tears threatening to flood his eyes, "Arthur, th-they've started l-leaving me."

He choked on a sob. Saying the words aloud made everything concrete and iron.

"I'm n-n-not that bad… am I?"

Arthur felt a stab of pity for his lover and former charge. The powerful nation's voice was weak, seeking acceptance and encouragement, like it had been when he was just a colony on the docks, begging Arthur not to leave, not to forget him. To always return.

"…you're different now than you used to be," he said at last, "But you're not bad… you're trying to change, luv… maybe… maybe that change won't come during this generation… and maybe not even the next… maybe that's why some of them are leaving… but I promise you this: Most of them will stay, and your change will come. I promise you, Alfred."

Alfred nodded, even though he knew Arthur couldn't see him. It still hurt so badly… but he could get through this. He'd get through it and change, and then maybe… maybe people would change their minds about him.

"Thanks, I-Iggy."

"You're welcome," Arthur replied, a small smile dancing on his lips. If Alfred was using that nickname, it meant he was starting to crawl out of that deep dark hole people fall into when they're hurt badly, "Now go. You've got work to do, America. Make me proud and show those citizens of yours that you're worth loving, as I know you are."

A/N: I'm considering moving to Canada, or some place that isn't America, which means giving up my citizenship and never getting it back.