Hello and welcome! This is my first Hetalia and Doctor Who crossover!

So, I fell in love with Whotalia around two and a half months ago and I know a lot of people like to write about the Doctor and England being friends. With my story, that's kind of the case. I'm planning to write another main story about the two of them, making this one the equivalent of a spin-off. I've already started writing the other main story which should come out soon.

This particular one will only focus on the Year That Never Was and the events leading up to it. All you really need to know is that England and the Doctor have a long and complicated (both angsty and humourous) history.

England's magic in this story is a lot stronger than people know. He generally tries to keep his adventures with the Doctor and the various different invasions a secret by using his magic to wipe peoples' memories. That will be important in the other story but not too relevant in this one. Obviously some of the other countries are aware that this is extraterrestrial life (I mean, America is best friends with Tony) but the other nations don't really know about the things that go on in the Whoniverse.

As for the pairings in this story... well, the main one is USUK. There isn't really much more to say. I support canon pairings in Doctor Who, but other than the one-sided Doctor/Martha there isn't much romance to be seen in the three final series 3 episodes, is there?

Anyway, enjoy and allons-y!

One

Mistrust

'This country has been sick. This country needs healing. This country needs medicine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say, that what this country really needs right now... is a doctor.'

I turn the television off, the repeat of an earlier broadcast flashing off in an instant. I was there for the actual event, ready to congratulate the new Prime Minister upon his election, but I had to act as if my stomach wasn't churning on the inside. The mere sight of that man makes me question what's wrong with the people of my country. How could they have elected him? There's something very wrong here...

'The people love him,' Wales says beside me, sighing as I scoff at his words. 'Well, it's true. They wouldn't have voted for him otherwise.'

'There's something about him,' I mutter. 'I can't quite put my finger on it.'

'No need to be paranoid, brawd bach,' Wales chuckles, calling me his little brother in his own dialect. 'If the people trust him then you should too. Aren't you supposed to be the reflection of what the people want?'

'I'm supposed to keep this country safe,' I say. And pretty much every other country too, I add inside my head. After all, the other countries don't really know about the extraterrestrial threats. To be fair, they don't have capital cities that get attacked pretty much every Christmas. I swear, if Christmas this year in London leads to one more invasion... if I so much as see a Dalek or a Cyberman...

I usually try and keep the other countries in the dark about that. They may not believe I have magic, but they wouldn't even remember anyway. I'm not really sure what the deal is about all the bloody aliens being fixated with me (the Doctor included- why does he keep visiting anyway?), but people always die. This country has been through so much due to all the monsters trying to destroy us. Despite my quarrels with the other countries, I don't want any of them having to put up with that. The less they know about the secrets I keep, the better.

I mean, would they really believe me if I told them that I'm actually sort of friends (or not. I still don't know what to think of the Doctor sometimes) with a nine hundred year old alien from the planet Gallifrey called a Time Lord, and that the two of us and whoever he's traveling with end up saving the planet from aliens?

No. I don't think telling anyone is a good idea. Not the responsible countries like Germany and Japan, not my siblings, not America. I dread to think of what would happen if the Russians or the Americans got wind of it.

So if anyone does come close to discovering anything they shouldn't, I use my magic to wipe their memories. Which sounds ridiculous, I know, but it works. I know too much, and I get invaded at least three or four times a year. As long as I ensure that UNIT bases are established all over the world then I can guarantee that the other countries will be safer. And their memories can be replaced. But when big stories appear on the news, like the Slitheen ship crashing into Big Ben, there's not a lot I can do.

'Britain's doing alright,' Wales says cheerfully. 'We've got a brand new Prime Minister and he looks very promising.'

'Oh yes? Then what is his policy?'

Wales blinks. 'I... I'm not entirely sure, but he has done a lot for us already, hasn't he? He was the Minister for Defense and he destroyed that Christmas star over London that those terrorists were using.' That's just one more lie I've told the other countries. They buy quite a lot that I tell them. Terrorists sounded like a valid explanation for that giant star hanging over London, not a giant, red, spider alien called the Empress of Racnoss.

I'm currently in my house in Hamstead Heath in London, and Wales has been paying a visit to hand over some documents for me to look through. Scotland has already briefly visited me earlier today and good bloody riddance. I hate it when he comes. I tried not to celebrate too much when he left- I was busy trying to prevent a house fire from those damn cigarettes he leaves lying around. (And the fire was because of that, not because I left something burning in the kitchen.)

This country has been sick. This country needs healing. This country needs medicine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say, that what this county really needs right now... is a doctor.

Those words send shivers down my spine. It's like the Harold Saxon is reading my mind or something. It feels like he's going to somehow display my secrets. The way he talks about this country... about me...

And that last part, the part about me needing a doctor...

That creeps me out the most.

'Finance report, sir,' says one of the various women in the room, handing Saxon the documents as he walks by with his wife. I step off to the side, watching closely. Now that he's the Prime Minister, I want to see how he handles this situation.

'Military protocol, sir,' another woman says, holding out another set of documents. Saxon takes these too, not bothering to even cast looks at the people around him.

'EC directive, sir.'

'Annual budget, sir.'

'Policy recommendations.'

Lucy Saxon leans in close to her husband, the two of them stopping to gaze fondly at each other. 'I'm so proud of you, Harry.'

Saxon raises his hand to her cheek and leans in to kiss her. 'Bless.'

Finally, a familiar face arrives. Latitia Jones, sister of Martha, the Doctor's current companion. I've had a few run-ins with the Jones family over the last few days. Tish and I met the other night at Professor Lazurus's party. That didn't go too well.

Tish walks up to Saxon, looking slightly apprehensive. 'Um, sir, if you don't mind me asking. I'm sorry, but it's all a bit new. What exactly do you want me to do?'

Saxon's eyes fix on Tish. 'Oh yes, what was it...?'

'Tish, Latitia Jones, sir.'

'Tish. Well then, Tish...' He places his hand on her chin. My stomach churns at how he's invading her personal space so suddenly. A gentlemen would never do such a thing. Tish looks flustered. 'You just stand here and look gorgeous,' Saxon continues, a smile dancing on his lips.

His wife laughs weakly.

A few minutes later, Saxon and I are ready to enter the Cabinet Room. I am about to express my disdain at how lax Saxon seems to be acting when he holds out his arm in front of me, preventing me from moving towards the door.

'No, no,' he says. 'Not you, Arthur.'

'What do you mean?' I ask testily.

'There's no need for you to be in there,' he continues with a condescending smile.

I'm furious. 'There's every right for me to be in there! I'm the representation of this country as you know full well. I have to be there while the Cabinet is in session-'

'Well, as I'm in charge now, I reckon we can bend the rules a bit,' he replies with a grin.

'Saxon-'

'Look, Arthur, if you want to be busy then you can deal with some of this.' He shuffles the documents in his hands and hands a significant amount of paperwork to me. 'I can't be bothered to do it all. Life's too short.'

And with that, he's disappeared into the Cabinet Room, leaving me feeling completely humiliated and enraged.

'Bloody wanker,' I mutter under my breath.

I'm sitting at my desk in one of the halls outside the Cabinet Room, trying to fill out the bloody paperwork that Saxon himself should be doing when I see Tish get up from her seat, looking rather frantic.

'I'm sorry, but you're not allowed in here...' she calls out as a middle aged woman with blonde hair walks in, arms full of documents. Who is she?

''Harold Saxon, a modern Churchill',' she announces, quoting something from a newspaper. Oh dear God, she must be from the press. That's the last thing we need. She waves the paperwork and hands some to Tish for the younger woman to read. I frown, continuing to watch from my corner of the room.

'It's the definitive think-piece of the great man himself. Oh come on, sweetheart, you must have read it,' the woman from the press continues, strolling through the room to one of the lounges where I know Lucy Saxon is currently situated.

'Um, not really. Sorry, I'm new,' Tish says uncertainly.

The older woman practically interrupts her. 'Mr Saxon does like a pretty face. But I'm here to see Mrs Saxon.' She reaches the door and opens it to reveal Lucy on one of the sofas, blinking confusedly. I get up from my seat and stride over to the door. If Tish is unable to stop this woman then I'm going to have to.

'You can't just go barging in...' Tish calls out worriedly.

'Mrs Saxon, Vivien Rook, Sunday Mirror. You've heard of me,' the woman introduces herself, stepping forward into the room.

Lucy looks flustered. 'Oh, can't I just have an hour to myself? It's been a hell of a day.'

'Strike while the iron's hot, that's what I say, Lucy... I can call you Lucy, can't I? Now, everyone's talking about Harold Saxon, but I thought, what about the wife? All I need is twenty minutes.'

Lucy looks around slightly worriedly. 'Oh, I think maybe we should wait...'

'The headline's waiting to print, 'The Power Behind The Throne',' Vivien Rook says eagerly.

This catches Lucy's attention. She leans forwards slightly, now looking interested. 'Really?'

'Britain's First Lady,' Rook adds.

'Gosh,' Lucy exclaims.

'Front page.'

'Oh! Well... I suppose... ' She seems to be seriously reconsidering. 'Oh, go on then, twenty minutes,' she decides with a smile.

'Excellent!'

'Ma'am, if I might interject,' I begin.

Lucy looks at me vaguely. 'Yes, Arthur?'

'I wouldn't recommend an interview at the present time-'

'Oh, no need to worry!' Rook interrupts, looking very excited. 'It's only twenty minutes, after all!'

Lucy nods. She's always been quite easy to manipulate. 'I'm sure it will be fine. It's alright, you can leave now, Arthur.'

Rook turns to Tish. 'Thank you. Go, go... what was it... Tish?' She hands the younger woman her coat and pushes her towards the door. 'Now you, can leave us alone.'

Tish seems uncertain. 'No, but I'm supposed to sit in.'

Lucy adjusts hair and shakes her head encouragingly.

'No, no. It's only a profile piece. You know, hair and clothes and nonsense. There's a good girl, out you go. That's it,' Rook says, ushering Tish out. The door closes, leaving Tish and I standing in front of it, wishing we could have prevented this.

Tish turns to me. 'I should be in there...'

'I think... I think this is the least of our troubles. I'm sure there are more pressing matters to attend to,' I mutter, remembering how I need to ensure that Saxon is doing his job correctly.

'What do you mean?'

'Harold Saxon... I think there's more to him than meets the eye. But never mind that. We should get back to work.'

'Yes, sir,' Tish says with a nod.

A few minutes later, I decide that a little bit of eavesdropping is in order. It will look too suspicious if I stand next to the door that Vivien Rook entered the lounge through- after all, the hall where a lot of people including myself and Tish are working is right on the other side. So I leave the room and decide to walk down the corridors beside the lounge until I reach the other door to the room where that bloody interview is taking place.

By the time I've turned the corner to stroll down the last corridor towards the other door, however, I am greeted with the sight of Harold Saxon himself, having a discussion with Lucy beside the door. Their voices grow louder as I approach them. They haven't noticed me.

'... Harry, she knew everything. You promised. You said Archangel was one hundred percent.'

Saxon winces. 'Um. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight?'

Lucy gasps. 'But if she's asking questions, then who else?' A sob escapes her throat. 'How much time have we got?'

Saxon looks sympathetic. He holds his arms out for a hug which she obliges to. 'Tomorrow morning. I promise. That's when everything ends.'

I announce my presence by speaking up. 'What are you talking about?'

The two of them freeze then stare at me. Saxon finally composes himself. '... Now, now, Arthur. Eavesdropping isn't very nice, is it? Shame on you.'

You were talking about the Archangel Network. What have the satellites got to do with anything? And where is the journalist?' I ask.

Saxon looks at me straight in the eyes. His own eyes look rather odd. They're dark and they remind me of something, but I can't think what. 'Run along, England. Finish your paperwork, play nice with the other countries, do whatever it is you do all day.'

This is ridiculous. This is going to destroy everything I've tried to build over the last few years. I've tried as hard as possible to keep the other countries and the people of the world in the dark about all of this. Everything I've hoped to achieve is about to be ruined.

'You can't do this, Saxon,' I say flatly. The two of us are in Saxon's private office, the only people in here. I'm alarmed by Saxon's plans. 'Engaging in official contact with extraterrestrial life is under the jurisdiction of the United Nations and furthermore, UNIT would need to prepare-'

Saxon laughs. 'Ooh, you do sound so professional, Artie. So serious, all the time. Wouldn't you like to take the credit for First Contact? Great Britain, leading the world forward into a new age... come on, doesn't that sound exciting?'

'Taking any credit is irrelevant, Saxon. My task as a country is to ensure the safety of the people of this planet, and without UNIT analysing these so-called 'Toclafane', we are unaware of their motives. They could pose as a huge threat-'

Saxon looks bored. 'Never mind that. I've got broadcast to star in. Don't worry, Arthur. We're going to have lots of fun...'

I stride out the office, seriously pissed off. This is hardly first contact- I've known about aliens all my life. They confronted me when I was just a tiny child after all. One of them even promised to protect me from the others. I'll always remember the first time I saw that big blue police box, sitting in the woods, directly in front of me, and I'll never forget the strange man who lived in that box, the one who said he'd always be there for me-

Where the hell is he now? I know he's good at lying. He said he'd always be there and yet he's let me down before. I think that gives me enough reason to resent him. But most of the time he's there. He's stopped so many aliens from destroying this planet, so why can't he show up now.

Where are you, Doctor?

Well, I guess he's just breaking his promise.

Again.

'Britain, Britain, Britain. What extraordinary times we've had,' the Prime Minister says on air. 'Just a few years ago, this world was so small. And then they came. Out of the unknown. Falling from the skies. You've seen it happen. Big Ben destroyed...'

A clip of the Slitheen spaceship smashing into the clock tower is shown on the television.

'... the spaceship over London...'

The screen cuts to the Sycorax ship hovering in the sky.

'... all those ghosts and metal men...'

The Cybermen and the ghostly apparitions they appeared as before they materialised properly are shown.

'... the Christmas Star that came to kill...'

Shots of the giant star blasting the streets of London appear on the TV.

'... Time and time again and the government told you nothing. Well, not me. Not Harold Saxon. Because my purpose here today is to tell you this. Citizens of Great Britain... I have been contacted. A message for humanity from beyond the stars.'

Finally, the creatures themselves appear. The camera cuts to a weird, metal, spherical object hovering in the air. It's around the size of a football (our kind football, not those bloody things the Americans use) and when it speaks, it seems to know English.

'People of the Earth. We come in peace. We bring you great gifts. We bring technology and wisdom and protection. And all we ask in return is your friendship.'

The camera cuts back to Saxon. He smiles. 'Oh, sweet.'

Lucy laughs.

No, it most certainly is not sweet, I think angrily. I am not actually allowed in the office where the Master is speaking life to the people of Great Britain. My previous Prime Ministers would have allowed me in- after all, I'm authorised to be in there. But Saxon is constantly belittling me. It's like it's his new job to piss me off.

So I am instead standing in a separate room here in 10, Downing Street, watching it all happen on the television screen in the corner. I'm here with Tish and various MPs, wondering how I'm ever going to cover all of this up.

'And this species has identified itself. They're called the Toclafane...'

The Toclafane... I wrack my brain, trying to think about whether or not I've heard of them before... the name seems fairly familiar, like something out of a fairy tale one might here whilst one is young. Has the Doctor mentioned it to me in the past?

'... and tomorrow morning they will appear, not in secret, but to all of you. Diplomatic relations with a new species will begin. Tomorrow, we take our place in the universe. Every man, woman and child, every teacher and chemist and lorry driver and farmer and, oh, I don't know, every... medical student?'

The way he pauses before he utters that last profession makes me wonder whether there's some hidden message I'm not picking up on.

What are you up to, Saxon? What are you playing at?

I have most of this story written out (though mostly it's during the Year That Never Was, not the events leading up to it like this and the next chapter will be (I still have to write that '^^). The rating will stay as T because there will be mentions of gore but nothing too graphic (I think).

Please review!