Warning: Rated T for language, violence, and slightly disturbing themes.
"Please Alfred, don't do this."
Despite the calm façade Matthew held, he was terrified beyond belief. His brother stood a few feet away, sawed-off shotgun held close to his chest. Alfred looked like a madman, eyes flitting back and forth and tremors wracking his thin body.
"Get the fuck out of here Canada."
"Alfred, my people are dying, I need your help, now more than ever!"
"I'm giving you five fucking seconds to get your ass across the border." America's eyes narrowed as he gestured with his gun. "Go."
"We can work together, we can develop an antidote! My labs and hospitals are flooded with the infected, and there are only a few doctors that aren't either sick or too afraid to leave their houses! Al-"
"Five."
Canada's eyes widened. He was serious.
"No…no, no, no…please, I love you, you're my brother! Don't do this, don't do this!" His breath quickened as America steadied his quivering hands and pointed the shotgun at him.
"Four."
Silence stood between the brothers for a moment before Matthew let out a strangled, wet cough into his hand. When he pulled away, blood stained his fingers. Holding them out, almost in disbelief, he whispered, "I'm dying."
"Three." He pumped the gun and curled his finger around the trigger.
"Look at me America!" He screamed, pulling up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his skinny arms. "I'm infected Alfred. Goddammit for the first time in your life, pay attention to me!" He managed a strangled sob before a fit of coughing overtook him.
Alfred, startled by the outburst, mutely looked down at his brother's arms.
He wished he hadn't.
Open sores that seemed to perpetually bleed dotted his pale skin, infected and rotting. Large, discolored bruises wandered across Matthew's bony forearms.
"This is the pain of my people. If I close my eyes, I can hear them screaming for help…and I know I can't save them, at least…" He paused, looking up at Alfred. "Not alone."
"T-Two."
Canada burst into tears, sobs wracking his thin frame, threatening to break him apart. Eyes glimmering, his life flashed before his eyes. Memories he didn't know he had appeared before him; a vast forest, before they had been discovered, walking with Alfred, hand in hand.
Before pain.
Before war.
Before paranoia.
They whispered to each other in native tongues long dead, exploring the vast land that was theirs and theirs alone. Always together, always hand in hand.
The Canadian took the few shaky steps required to close the distance between the brothers. He nearly collapsed on America's shoulder, the other nation flinching at the physical contact.
Matthew whispered, his voice like dead maple leaves crunching under unforgiving feet, into Alfred's ear so quietly, it could have been mistaken for a breath of wind.
"What happened… to being…the hero?"
The shotgun fired.
Matthew teetered for what seemed like an eternity, standing stiffly as if startled by the noise.
A moment later, his body went lax and he fell to the ground, a melancholy smile ghosting his cracked lips.
"One."
Silence closed in around America as the pool of blood accumulated around the Canadian's head.
The gun hit the ground.
And he screamed.
Author's Notes: How's that for my first fic? This is based loosely on the game Pandemic 2 (such a great game, but I always want to cry when Canada becomes 'forsaken' TT-TT ). A bit sad, eh?