A/N: I came up with the idea for this story during a camping trip when my friend Jasmine mentioned something about World War III (she's not in the Hetalia fandom though, so it's kind of sad). This is for my friend Gina (irken-on-a-mission).

Please give me feedbacks! :) I love feedbacks

"If it comes, World War III will be fought with nuclear bombs. Then World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."

- Albert Einstein

In the year of 2074, the United States of America is virtually destroyed by a tirade of civil wars and diseases. The momentum has been gradually built up through many decades of economic depression. However, many other countries, with their own national crisis, are unresponsive to America's self-destruction. In East Asia, China and North Korea, with Russia's support, have risen into power and the Communist Expansion has reached Europe. Most of the eastern bloc has fallen to the Chinese regime. The western bloc is courageously fighting back, but without the military support from America, the Red Alliance is unstoppable.

[…]

[Canada]

"Well Robert, we are not… No Robert, China is… FUCK IT! OF COURSE I BLOODY KNOW WE CAN'T AFFORD TO PUT OUR TROOPS IN AMERICA ANYMORE!"

When I run into America's ward, broken cups are littering on the floor. I have never seen England that angry before, not after the American Revolution. He wasn't even that hysterical when Germany bombed London. Oh God, this war has really begun to take its toll on us. I suppress a sigh as my eyes steal a glance at my brother. America is lying still on the bed. His whole body is wrapped in filmy white bandages. Every time I come to visit him, his whole room reeks with the pungent smell of rotten flesh. Switzerland's doctors say that America's body is swiftly decaying as the civil wars in his country worsen. The only thing that can revive him, France says, is peace. Literal peace. Something to bring America's sense of national security and economic prosperity back. America cannot do it alone; he needs all the helps he has to repay the 100 thousand billion debts accumulated over the past 60 years. But since the eruption of World War III, even I struggle to send support troops.

"England, calm down…" I kneel down and pick up the broken cups. Some of them are smeared with blood. "Let me see your hand…"

"Don't touch me!" he pulls away. His phone drops and crashes into silence. "Oh… is it you Canada…?"

He shuffles awkwardly and kneels down to pick up the scattering shards. For a moment, I think I see tears rolling down his cheeks, but when he looks up again, his eyes are dried. I squat down next to him and hold his wrists. His blood leaves red splotches on my hands.

"It's okay" I mumble, to myself rather than to him and peer at his wound. It's not very deep, so I wipe it carefully with tissues. He avoids looking at me. I sigh, defeated. Only 23 inches away is our brother, or what is left of him, his breathing barely audible even though the room is deadly silent. It is excruciating to watch your own friend and family dying and there is nothing you can do. The only thing that keeps him alive is his life support, the "troops" that each country sends to the U.S to repair the unrepairable damages done by wars and diseases. But now we have to pull our troops out because of the fear of invasions lingers on our doorsteps. There is nothing we can do about it really, since after all, we are just nations being controlled by a crumbling government. Brotherhood means nothing in wars and politics.

For a while, none of us says anything. The incessant sounds of various machines hook to America's body makes the plummeting atmosphere almost suffocating. I help England to stand up.

"Thanks Canada." He speaks. I didn't realise how white and shaking he is.

"England," I force him to look at me. "What did Robert say?"

"Canada, I don't want to talk about it…"

"Don't. I know, England. He called Jerald yesterday and Jerald is planning to pull the troops…"

"FUCK IT!" the ward explodes in his scream. Then he collapses on my shoulders. "Robert wants to pull the troops out of America." I can barely hear his voice through the hysterical sobs. "To be honest, that bloody burger freak screwed up his frigging life. But I don't want him to die Canada."

The only thing I can do at that moment is to grip tighter to England. Not only because he is going to fall down, but if I don't, I will also collapse on my knees. It's hard to hold the nation's dignity when you have a human heart. But in the game of politics, there is no place for love. England knows it. I know it. Our prime ministers know it. Even China, Russia and North Korea and their leaders know it. That's what makes the pain cuts deep.

"Well, he probably can't hear me now." England looks at America's bed. "Promise me if that burger maniac ever wakes up, don't tell him I say this. More than anything, I just want him to open his eyes. That's enough."

I can only nod. There are so many promises leave unsaid.

[…]

On the 12th November, 2075, the Chinese troops march into Rhineland, Germany's military base. Meanwhile the civil wars in America worsen as the European Union gradually pulls their troops out of the dying nation. Great Britain's Prime Minister, Robert Williamson, in consultation with King George VII, has planned to depart their troops back to London in the next five months to help with the war effort. Canada's Prime Minister, Jerald McArthur, under diplomatic relationship with Great Britain and France, has agreed to depart their troops in America to the two fronts in Europe. Losing all its support, the United States of America is slowly disappearing on the world map. The land of North America is now a scorching desert with corpses piling on every acre. Political commentators estimate that if the national unrest cannot be stopped, then within the next six months, the United States of America will be completely annihilated.

[…]

[China]

The first thing they teach a new-born nation is obedience. Absolute obedience for their leaders. As nations, we are taught to put our duty before emotions. As nations, we are taught that the friendship we have with each other is for the economic advantages. As nations, we are not meant to have feelings. It's against the rules. We don't have any choice. We can't rebel against our government even if we are dying to. No one wants wars and deaths. Those things belong to the dirty game of politics.

After 2 years of World War III with most victories belong to our side, our bosses give us a temporary break. A ceasefire. So Russia and I decide to visit America. North Korea doesn't come with us. I think all those years of segregation have made him reluctant to interact with other countries. It's sad for him, but I guess that in the war context, he is lucky than all of us. He doesn't understand how painful it is to watch your own friends, comrades, even families, dying in front of you and you know everything is your fault. We as nations suffer the idiocy and arrogance of our governments. We take all the blame. We bear the accusing glances of our fellow nations as our troops march through their war-torn lands and our soldiers haunted by the distorted images of innocent civilians screaming for mercy. I guess it's just a part of the rules, but the rules don't take into account that we too, are born human.

"What are you thinking China?" Russia interjects my train of thoughts.

"Nothing- aru." I reply. We turn right to America's ward. "I just don't know what to say- aru." We stop at the door.

"Well he can't hear us even if he wants to." Russia gazes at the door before opens it. We step inside. "He's dying, remember?"

I punch his arm but he just smiles, maybe a little bit too creepily. I can't help but laugh. Despite of his twisted sense of humour and his bluntness, Russia is not a nasty person. For more than two years, I have had the chance to know Russia better. He is lonely on a land that is ravaged by the bitter cold winter. Russia once told me he wants to go south, where there is the sun and he can grow sunflowers with his sisters. A place where he can have friends. It's so weird to have Russia confining his most inner feelings with me like this, but beside his sisters, no one listens to him. No one wants to be his friends. It's hard to imagine, but right now, he only has me. Both of his sisters are comatose since the explosion of the nuclear power stations on their home soils.

"Is this really him?" Russia covers his nose. I do the same. The revolting smell of rotten flesh makes me want to vomit. "I can't stand it".

"Russia!" I glare at him, horrified.

"Can we be quick? I'm sick of looking at him like this."

I am going to punch him again, but the severity in his eyes tells me that he is not joking. There is no particular venom in his voice, just sadness. Wait, he's right. We are all sick to that we have done nothing to help America and now we are watching him die. We all hate this war, hate the stupidity of our leaders and hate ourselves for being useless. Russia is just choosing the curtest way to say the truth we have been all hiding from. When I glance at him again, Russia's amethyst eyes are glistening with tears. I am too shocked to even say anything, so I grab his hands.

"H… Hey! - aru" I babble, unsure what to say. He looks at me quizzically, unblinking. That's weird, I swear I saw tears, but now his eyes are dried. "Ah… um… I was just thinking… when this war is over, do you want to have like, a party- aru?"

"China, what are you talking about?" He stares at me like I'm naked. Our ex-ally is dying five inches away from us and we are holding hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yes! - aru. Um listen- aru. After the war, we will have a celebration- aru. We will invite everyone to come to our house even though they are properly still mad at us- aru. I will make dumplings then we can all sing and dance and we will sleep on the floor together like a big slumber party- aru. Then… then… we will fix America- aru… we will fix him before there is this party…- aru. Then America will open his eyes and…" my voice trails off. Tears are streaming down on my face and dropping onto our clutching hands.

"Sounds like a nice plan." Russia smiles, his eyes half-closed. "I can't believe I am saying this, but forget the Cold War. Forget winning. I want America to wake up. He is always the hero to save the day, isn't he? Whenever he came into wars, he fixed everything, didn't he? I want him to wake up fast so this war will be over and then…"

Russia looks down to the ground, then all the sudden, he collapses into my arms. My shoulders are wet with his tears, but his quiet sobs are drowned in the monotonous rumbles of the machine that is keeping America alive. For a while, we hold onto each other like soldiers on a battlefield, trying to keep what is left of our dignity and what is left of our war-torn friendship. Our integrity sells so little in wars and politics, but they are pieces of us and our last connections to everyone who fights in this battle of hate. Our family, our friends, even our allies, are falling beneath our feet, and for the first time in my life, I hate being a nation. We are big, but we are powerless under the political influence of our mortal leaders, and I hate it. I hate the freak that incited this stupid war and I hate my leaders for plunging me into it. For the first time, I discover that a nation could die. World War III is fought with nuclear power and chemical weapon. They are enough to wipe out a nation, and I hate it. I am creating a bridge between my friends and their death.

"I hope," Russia suddenly speaks. His voice is small like a child. He stands straight up and bends down to look at me in the eye, "that everyone will not hate us anymore. I want to have the party with them and we can all be friends."

"Yeah- aru," I wipe away my tears. "We will have the party- aru. Not as nation, but as human- aru. What do you think? - aru?"

"It'll be like cultural exchange." He laughs. "We will bring a piece of our nation to remind everyone that this war does not define who we are, not as nation, not as human." For a lonely guy, Russia is pretty philosophical, I must admit.

"Yeah- aru. So we must hurry up and end this war! - aru." None of us says that "ending the war" means destroying our friends with nuclear weapons. Some things are best to be left in silence. Sometimes it's best just to comfort ourselves with dreams. "We will revive everyone- aru. We will definitely save everyone! - aru"

"Who says Americans have monopoly over being heroes?" Russia turns to America's bed. He places his hand on the white sheet, while the other still clutching tightly at mine. "Well, America can't hear what we're going to say, but let's make a promise with him. After this war, we will become heroes and save everyone. We will beat America in his own game."

I smile and nod. The curtains of silence drop on our shoulders as we turn away. I don't know if I will ever come back the same after the war is over. Maybe this will be the last time I will ever talk to America and Russia as who I am. It doesn't make sense really, but I want to show our leaders that we are more than just a piece of their game. I want to fight as who I am, and die as who I am. I don't want to become like North Korea. It's scary. Russia must have felt it too.

But I know both of us will come out of this war, broken and all, but unchanged. We will definitely save everyone and then have that party. We have a promise to keep to someone.

[...]

On 11th February, 2076, massive riots break out on the street of Beijing and Moscow. Two days later, the rebellion forces march their way across China and Russia and demand a ceasefire on the western front. The prolonged rebellion soon takes its toll when civilians begin to burn down national buildings and attack government officials. The Chinese and Russian governments have ordered heavy tankers to shoot down these so-called "seditions", but the efforts proven to be fruitless when Japan and South Korea declare their support for the rebellion forces. Many other Asian countries such as India, Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia and Laos bind together to form the Asiatic Committee, a secret association that assist the Chinese and Russian rebels. The Red Alliance has been weakened tremendously, and the Allied troops have gained their first major victories in the Battle of Rhineland and the Raid of Shanghai. For the first time in two years, the Red Alliance faces the imminent threat of defeat.

Until Great Britain's espionage discover North Korea's nuclear missile scheme. A destructive weapon that has the power to destroy a whole continent is in the hand of the most notorious totalitarian government. Under pressures from the European Union, Great Britain is now forced to pull all of their troops out of America two months earlier than intended. Political commentators envision that without the support from the British, the United States of America will collapse immediately.

[...]

[England]

"I had a wish,

That even if my body falls and decays,

You will

Live happily ever after

In a kind world"

The only thing that I can remember vividly, to the point I cannot breathe, is the rain. They all tell me how after the storm there will be rainbow, but the rainbow I see is too often distorted. It always rains in England, Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday, even the weekends. It is better on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, where the relentless heat and unforgiving cold intertwine in a beautiful four-season climate. I love the sweet fragrance of the Twinleaf and the chirping mockingbirds, the winding river and the sweltering dessert. But most of all, I love the rain. The rain in North America brings a promise of a better future even though today is full of tears. After the rain, there is always a beautiful rainbow that arches into infinity. I want to see that rainbow again.

That's why I never want to let him go.

"England, why does it rain?"

"God is crying America".

Robert just called me a couple of minutes ago. He told me that he has arranged the fleets to depart our troops back to Great Britain. But of course, it is still me who has to come here and cut the life support out of America. It is the order from His Majesty actually, but Robert still wants to make sure that I am okay when doing this all by myself. He would be alright, Robert said. We would save him when the war is over. How many times have I heard this? I smile crookedly to myself. Even France has begun to lose hope when I broke the news about nuclear weapons to the European Committee. Save him? The powerful United States of America? Who is Robert joking? We can't even save ourselves. Look at Ukraine and Belarus. They are dying just like America. That burger maniac is not the only one who loses everything. The moment the nuclear bomb explodes, there will be no more us. No more Europe, no more Asia, no nothing. We all go down with this. It doesn't matter if Russia and China are rebelling against their leaders. It doesn't matter that we have chased the Red Alliance out of the Eastern bloc. The blatant consequence will never change. What is His Majesty trying to achieve? Victory? Even a fool can see that there is no winner in a war that uses nuclear power.

"Whoa, look at that rainbow England! It's so beautiful!"

"Indeed! I hardly see any rainbow back in Europe. Your land truly is the promise land America"

I am standing next to his bed right now. My hand traces the outline of his lifeless body beneath the thin white sheet. I can feel his skin, his bones, every part of him, is withering away like sand in the dessert wind. Only his heart is still struggling to spell out a distinct rhythm of life. Washington DC is still fighting. I bite my bottom lip. In my head, I picture my soldiers, dressing in white quarantined suit, scurrying on the metropolitan streets of Washington DC, searching for any sign of life. Sometimes it is a desperate man who is trying to pull his family out of the demolitions that are crushing their bones. Sometimes it's a little child who is crying before her parents' dead bodies. There are fire burning, filling the atmosphere with suffocating smoke. The sky is grey, but it is not raining. It never will.

The rainbow is gone.

"I want to be strong and powerful just like you England! I want everyone to look up to me just like they did to you!"

I laugh. For a while I just stand there and laugh hysterically, until I taste something salty yet bitter in my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to see the rain and the rainbow again, but all I can see is him, his gun pointing at me. It was raining that day, but the sky was grey and there were no rainbow. I have never seen a rainbow again.

"You used to be so great England."

Is there any more good to pretend? There is no him for me to put up an act, no him for me to pretend that everything never happened. He is gone and I cannot save him. I cannot stop it from happening to him. Not then, not now. What have I been doing these past hundred years? Burying my wounded pride beneath a cold countenance and pretending that I never know him? What for? I will be gone by tomorrow when the nuclear war begins. Even God cannot save us. Right at this moment, I feel my mask is falling apart as my hand reaches to the plug that connects America's life support to Washington DC. I feel exposed, naked, and vulnerable. I cannot stop the tears from streaming down my face, my throat burning with an anguish scream. Why America? Why are you so stupid? What does independence mean to you? Freedom? Democracy? The world is scary and you are still too young. You don't understand the political lesions these mortals inflict upon you when they founded a government and declared you a nation. I was trying to protect you. I don't want to lose the rainbow in your heart.

"You are not my brother anymore."

If only you were still mine… If only you were still my brother, none of this would have happened to you. I would still protect you… The king would still let me help you. But it's too late now. What does it mean to be the world's greatest power to you America? When you are gone, no one can save you.

"It's not so bad to have someone with you in your last moment is it?" My mouth curls up in a smile. "You stupid American." I hiss, not giving a damn how much my words are filled with venom. He can't hear me. No one can hear me. If they can, I don't care. There is nothing left for me to lose. "Thinking that you are the hero who will save the day, aren't you? You are just a reckless and stubborn idiot. Look what you have done to yourself!" I scream at him. The monotonous humming of the machine rumbles in response. "Look what you have done to us! To me! Stupid! You are so fucking stupid!"

I swallow the rising lumps in my throat in the struggle to articulate my anger to a comatose nation whom I cannot save. There is no point to wipe away the tears in my eyes, so for a while, I just stand there and cry. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I cry because for the first time since I was born, I feel helpless. I don't know what to do, and honestly I think the same thing goes for everyone that is involved in this war. No one knows how it happens and why, but we can all painfully divine the inevitable outcome. Our time is running low and I wish for this moment to stretch forever into infinity so none of those I love and care about will have to face the horrors of tomorrow. All of us want to live longer, but oh God, I myself want to keep what is left of America longer. There are so many things I want to say to him, so many thoughts unable to fathom into words, but they are all left buried beneath the painful curtain of silence. I close my eyes and think. I think of the meadow that stretches to the far horizon on the land of North America. I think of the exotic flowers I have never seen before in Europe or even in Asia. I think of the rainbow and the rain. They bring me comfort and peace. Somehow death isn't so scary anymore.

Time is ticking away. My people need me. My friends and allies need me. They need me more than America does. I blink at him a couple of time, grit my teeth and pull the plug. It's over.

"Farewell." In my head, I see my soldiers are sailing back home, but their gazes still lingers on the ruins of North America. The beating of his heart fades into the void and Washington DC is engulfed in flame. I turn away, leaving my crumbling rainbow behind. We cannot fix what have been too badly broken; I should have known it from the start.

It begins to rain outside.