I do not own Hetalia.

I seem to like fics where America falls. Ah well, I'm thinking about writing a multi-chapter fic in a kinda AU like this, so please tell me what you think. It kinda feels rushed...

Warning: Teensy bit of blood. Not quite character death.

Phoenix

A door inches open, emitting creaking sounds that cut through the silence and letting a small sliver of light into the dark room. Though the door opens slowly, the man behind it is far from hesitant; on the contrary, power and strength exude from him. Brownish-amber eyes search the room to settle coolly on the body splayed out in the center. The owner of these eyes quietly slips into the room, gently closing the door behind him.

"China."

He inclines his head at the scratchy, hoarse voice, whether from screaming or disuse he cannot tell. Silently, he observes the room. Various possessions had been flung into the walls, most broken and shattered to pieces, mixing with others that had met a similar fate; only vague ideas are left to what they had might have been. What might have been the frame of a bed had been crushed and destroyed, carelessly left in a pile in a lonesome corner of the room. The mattress, along with many of the other fabrics and flammable objects, seem to have been burned; yet the smoky smell only very faintly lingers for the glass of the windows had been smashed out. The sky outside is dark and starless, with a sliver of crescent moon the only object to break its monochrome.

The young man's bloodied body is eagle spread in the center of the room, the only open area from the debris. His shirt is missing, exposing the newly attained scars and burns and blemishes among the older, faded ones from years long past. One scar, an especially prominent one going slightly horizontally across his abdomen seems to have reopened. Many more like it now crisscross his torso. The arms are mangled as well and the pants of his legs have dark red stains, belying further injury.

"America."

He finally acknowledges the other, fallen nation. A smile touches the bloodied lips of the younger man, further cracking them.

"The United States o-" He breaks off, coughing, not even bothering to pull up one of his arms to cover it, instead limply rolling his head, "of America… Isn't that ironic? Don't you think… Yao?"

At last the older but smaller man walks over to gracefully kneel at the head of the other. He rests cool, slender fingers on the forehead of the dying boy. His face remains impassive even as he finds that the skin he touches is even cooler than his own.

"Indeed."

"I never really told you," He jerks as unfathomable pain wracks through his body, "-congrats on being… the new superpower."

The other merely inclines his head.

America pulls his lips further into a grin, despite how much it must pain him, "Talk, old friend, this'll probably-" he hisses as a new burn makes its appearance over the shoulder farther from China, who shows nothing but indifference, "…be my last conversation."

"I doubt that we are friends. Or that this'll be the last time to drive someone insane with your mindless chatter."

America glares playfully, undaunted by the cold words. His speech is broken from the shudders of his body, "Ouch, man... right in… the feels…"

"Still," China continued, heedless of the other, "It will certainly be strange to not have your ever annoying presence in the world… again."

"Did you… miss me last time?" The dying man raised an eyebrow in a faux sly look, though the effect is ruined by the blood running down his lips.

"No."

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" He rolls his head away from the other to gaze out the broken window, "Tell me, Yao… I've asked this many times befo-" he cuts off to cough out more blood- "… what's it… like… to be immortal?"

Though America does not face him, he can still feel the long stare on the back of his head, "You should know."

A sort of garbled laugh responds, "Perhaps, but I'm not like you. You've barely changed- you haven't changed… except for the… way you wear your hair."

"Existence is tedious and colors are monochrome."

"Do you… really… believe that?"

China hesitates, prolonging the moment by wiping the blood of the side of America's face, uncaring of how his fingers are stained red, "Not all the time."

"Hey…"

"I have not left."

"Do you… think Kiku's immortal?"

"It is too early. He is still so young," China murmured, lifting his hand to watch the dark blood drip down it. He is careful to keep it off his clothes.

"Really… he's pretty-" America grimaces and bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, a small groan escaping him. China looks down and sees a gash appear in the area between his neck and shoulder. After several moments he finishes, "… old, you know?"

"You're one to talk."

"Watch it, old man," America rolls his head back to face China, closing his eyes and taking comfort in the presence of the other immortal, "So… what do you think… about… Ludwig?"

China ponders for the span of several heartbeats, only a couple, but each are counted for the young man before him, "He… is not immortal… He had yet to live."

"Gilbert?"

"He is… maybe… time shall tell."

A noncommittal sound emits from the other.

It is now China who questions this time, "Have you any worry about your land and people once you… depart?"

America frowns, eyes still closed, "I care… for now… But my time is over. My states can handle… it from here on out."

China's eyes once again trail over the blemished and mutilated skin of the other, "A fine job they are doing now."

"It doesn't… matter to... me… now," The gaps in his sentences become more pronounced and his breathing harsher.

"I never asked you…" China trails off only to start again, "What do you think when you see your… former… grandchildren?"

America's eyes blink over blearily and he seems to fight off sleep, "They may… have been my… kin once… but… now they're… on their own…"

"I see."

Silence passes for only several moments, but they stretch like long hours in longer days. America speaks again, "I just… wish that… I spent more time… with them… both of them."

China hardly listens to him now, instead he thinks, thinks long and hard about something entirely different. He thinks of his beloved mythical animal, the phoenix. Birds of fire, who burn with brilliance and passion, stunning all who ever had the fortune to see one, he knows for he had seen them all of thrice in his immortal life. He had seen the birds, royal and majestic, the first two times, barely believing that he was not in some wonderful dream.

However, third time had been and will always be the most fascinating experience of his life. The bird, old and dying, had been ugly on the verge of death, incomprehensibly deprived of all the splendor and power of its life. It was a sad, pathetic thing. Yet he had made no motion to assist it, only watching from the side with an awestruck yet calculating expression, wondering if they were truly immortal, as he was.

A small smile touched his lips as he remembered the utter brilliance of the fire that overtook it, bright, blinding flames that spread burning, burning heat everywhere, making him even fear for his immortal life. All too soon it was over and a little chick had been sifting through the ashes of its former body, small, but growing. It had defied the very laws of time by growing so quickly, growing back to its blazing adulthood in a matter of moments. Then it left, burning brightly.

It's been a thousand years since he last saw one.

Sometimes, it saddened him, knowing that he is the only immortal among his kind. Humans live and die in the time it takes him to blink and nations, even, die so quickly. He's lost count of all the ones he knew. He thought that he would be alone forever in this world. But...

He grazes his hand and runs it through the bloodied and matted hair before him, reddish-brown and dull, once blond and beautiful.

There are still the phoenixes.

"Hey… Yao…" America mumbles, awakening the other from his trance, "I hear… Africa's… getting it… together… now…"

China raises a slender eyebrow, caressing his face in a detached way, "Will you…?"

America hums at the unfinished question, "Maybe… probably…" He reaches up, though it visibly pains him, to hold at the hand touching him, "Will you… wait for… me?"

"Immortality is patience."

"China?"

"Yes?"

"Last time… I couldn't do it… on my… own…" The hand holding his tightens, "I had… him… Germania… help me…"

China quickly removes all traces of expression from his face, knowing all too well the situation he is in, the request he is considering.

"Will you… help me?"

Slender fingers gently close the sky blue eyes for the last time as he bends down to whisper beside the other's ear, "I shall see you soon... Alfred."

And so the phoenix burns out once more.