Hi everyone! This is not my first Hetalia fanfiction, but my first PUBLISHED one, so please enjoy.

The events in this fanfiction revolve around a World War III scenario, therefore countries attack other countries etc. PLEASE do not take offense, the events stated in this fanfiction are just that: FICTION.

I do not own Hetalia (I sure as heck wish I did)

This fanfiction is rated "T" for cursing, themes and events etc. etc.

If you don't like maleXmale pairings, don't read.

If you don't like the events mentioned here, don't read.

The soft glow of the hall light danced through the opening in the door ajar, dripping dim light into it's blackened crevices. Twice he rapped quietly on the door with the back of his hand, announcing his presence.

"It's Matthieu-" He spoke quietly with that silky soft voice of his. Gently he pushed his way through the door, spotting the covers shift as the only other occupant in the room drew further into his pillow, avoiding the repulsive light. "I heard you weren't feeling well from Maman- so I brought you some homemade hotcakes. I know you'd prefer I bring you a hamburger or something instead, but maple is good for the soul." He set the dripping delicacy on the nightstand by his sick brother's bed and paused, listening to him trying to smother the sound of his coughing beneath the various sheets and blankets. "Good heavens it's dreary in here- have you opened the windows at all? It smells like you've been in here for weeks! That can't be good for you!"

Sighing heavily to display his irritation at his brother Nation's idiocy, Matthieu sat on the edge of the bed, folding his hands in his lap. "You really are hopeless you know- With the way your economy is going I should have expected you'd get sick! Lack of a proper Health Care system and such has done horrors to your American economy, I can only imagine!" He looked over at the lump of covers that was his brother's coughing form. "Are you listening to me Alfred?" He sighed and shook his blond Canadian head, his stubborn curl bouncing. "I know you aren't asleep- I saw you moving when I came in. Honestly, you really ought to take better care of your country! How are your people supposed to make a good living for themselves if you keep screwing things up?"

In rebuttal, the covers shuddered violently and Matthieu pulled them back in aggravation that he was ignoring him. "Alfred, you need to be more serious and-" But his words caught in his throat as he caught sight of the blood his brother was violently hacking up. He tried to suppress it- tried to cover it up by holding his hand to his mouth, but it was already staining his sweat-drenched pillow and leaking through his fingers. "Alfred!" he cried, suddenly overwhelmed with worry.

Neither noticed the hand of sickly bones clutching the scythe in the darkness above.

"H-hey Matt." He choked, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand but it smeared. He looked tired and frail, his eyes clouded and hazy.

"Alfred you idiot! Why didn't you tell us you were this sick? The other Nations and I could have helped you!" Matthieu looked desperately hurt in those large bluish eyes that almost seemed violet at times. "Don't you trust me enough? We're twins for God's sake!"

"Don't be stupid." Alfred's voice was strained and sweat dripped down his fever-stricken face and neck. His breath was uneven and hot, adding too the already musty room. "I- I'm the Hero and Hero's don't need help." But his words were smothered in his own disbelief, falsifying his statement even worse.

"You stupid idiot!" raged Matthieu. "Even heroes need help sometimes! What do you think sidekicks are? Not all heroes are loners!" He dashed off then, returning momentarily with a cool wet cloth he gently pressed to his brother's burning forehead.

"Go away Matt- I'm f-fine-" The Metal Scythe slid dangerously over his middle... He cut off, suddenly groaning and clutching his stomach, pulling his knees closer in.

"SHUT IT." Matthieu ordered, being forceful for once in his life, determination and worry all over his face. "Rest now! I'll take care of you! You'll see! I have a great Health Care system, and I hardly ever get sick-" He paused, smiling his usual sad smile. "Although I should get Kiku to come and help, his system is even better then mine and he almost NEVER gets sick-"

But Alfred shoved his twin's caring hands away with more force then he should have tried to muster. "Leave me alone Matt-" He ordered. "I'm already-" But he coughed violently again, his head slumping to the pillow in exhaustion.

The hand of Death slid invisibly over his forehead, the metal scythe glinting...

"I'm dying Matt- can't you see that?" In his crystal-blue eyes were tears of sorrow, not agony. The sorrow of disappointing those who cared about- of those who loved him cascaded down his face and were absorbed into his doomed-to-be-ruined pillow.

"Al, that isn't true! I can help you I-" But his words caught in his throat with the overpowering emotions. "Just let me help you!" he pleaded. Alfred's tired face cracked a small smile and he turned to face his brother as best he could, which took almost all his remaining energy. "Mattie-" He said quietly. "It's ok, 'cause I'm the..."

Death placed a clawed, boned hand down upon the young Nation's mouth, withdrawing something small and glowing in a soft gold as it smoked it's way out of his mouth...

"He-" his eyes glazed over with unfocused sight...

The tiny sphere was so soft and delicate it could have been a tiny snowflake made of pure gold. 'One land divided by two nations now becomes one through the loss of a life.' mused Death.

"...ro..." And his breathing ceased with a slow, sad sigh. Matthieu's own widened in sheer horror and he clutched his brother's shoulders in desperate disbelief.

"Al? Alfred?" He called, shaking his limp form. Still he remained unresponsive. "Alfred no!" Tears welled and poured down his face as he clutched the one person who had actually remembered him- the one person who knew who he was and didn't act as if he weren't there. "No- no, no, no! It's not fair!" He sobbed in the darkness, feeling his heart break.

What is it like to lose a friend?

What is it like to lose a twin?

More desperate a sorrow than anything.

It's like losing a part of your soul within.

On January 1st, 2011, America as a nation, died; it's economy and system coming to a complete halt as Stock Markets crashed and it's people were thrown into a full blown panic and disarray. With military scattered, and resources dispersed scarcely, the people, desperate for any form of economic help, neither protested, nor resisted when Canadian armies and government officials invaded and seized control of the panicked regions.

Finding the states in desperate need of organizing, the Canadian government declared the remaining North American land for themselves, calling their new found territories the "United Provinces of Canada".

With the people's panic, it was not difficult for Canadian armies to station themselves in each of the United Provinces, and begin setting up the new ground rules the people would have to follow to survive the economic stress. Wealth was forcefully stolen from the wealthy and jobs otherwise outsourced were rapidly cut off, forcing the people to hire within their provinces. Military, which was dispersed throughout the world, (and in particular places of the world) were immediately withdrawn back into the country, and ordered to assist in the 'cleanup' of the United Provinces problems. With the immediate withdrawal of the military, the remaining people were not allowed to leave the country on the grounds that if people vacationed outside the United Provinces , the wealth would still be leaving the country. Forcing the airlines to refuse the people to travel, they sent out military officials out to round up the remaining stragglers, until anyone living in America before it died, was forced back.

And though the people questioned their right to travel anywhere, they did not make much of a say about it, finding the Canadians' methods were slowly working.

Within the span of eleven months, Canadian Officials were able to finally declare the United Provinces officially 'restored', and it's people were happily recovering.

But, though the Canadian government were pleased with their new found land, it was becoming difficult for them to keep control of the people. With their recovery, there came talk of rebellion back into the nation they once were, free of Canadian rule. The people began to question their rights to travel and their rights to leave the country.

However Canada itself, was becoming a depressed Nation, as their lands were taxed to help pay for damages to the United Provinces' damages. Somehow they were going to have to turn their vile behavior around or Canada would soon end up as America had: In need of desperate assistance.

Finding their rebellious nature only natural considering the circumstances Canadian Officials declared that until they could officially say that both Canada and the United Provinces of Canada were both in equally grand positions, they would not open the airlines to the United Provinces.

Their reasoning was deemed folly by various other nations, but through persuasion and threats that their economy was failing again (by their own doings obviously) and through the fear that they were in a position to be attacked by other nations at any time, the UPC's (United Province Canadians) agreed to Canada's terms, not only disallowing airline travel, but also allowing the Canadian Government to install Military officers in each province to enforce their laws...

WOW. AWESOME. I actually posted it! Here goes nothing! Please rate and review if you like it! ^_^

Expected pairings to follow:

ChiXRus, LietXPol, FrUK, and maybe more.

GOD it is hard to writye as if reading a history textbook! I hope you appreciate the effort that took! TT_TT