He can remember the feeling...

His heart pounding frantically... His palms all sweaty... He can hear the cries of his children screaming in agony... He can feel his children's pain and suffering... Their fear twisting every muscle in his body...

BOOM!

Another collision sends him to his knees... His shaking hands grasp his pounding head as two large gashes form on his forehead... He tries to cover the pain, stop the flow of blood that now trickles down his face, to do something about this horrible travesty... But he could not...

He could not stop the pain... He could not stop the twisting agony that is growing inside of him... He could not stop the continuous flow of blood... He could not do anything... All he can do was lie on the floor of his bedroom and take the pain... Take all of the pain that his children are suffering... The thousands of lives that are taken by deaths firm grip numb his mind like little ants crawling all around his skull...

He looked out the window and he could see it... The thick, black smoke rising against the clear blue sky... He could see the two towers collapse as the support of the beams could no longer hold such huge weight of the planes... He could see his children jumping out of the buildings as they attempt to escape the fire, the end of their lives waiting for them at the bottom...

Today was the day America, Alfred F. Jones, will never forget as he sank into darkness...

Alfred woke up with a start, gasping for breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. The alarm continuously beeped at him until he pressed the snooze button. He placed his hands on his forehead. Cold sweat lingered as he felt the scars. He sighed and looked at the clock. 8 am it read in shiny, florescent red. He turned his head to the calendar that stood against his drawer. His heart nearly malfunctioned as he read today's date.

September 11th, 2011

Ten years... Has it really been that long since then? Ten years felt like an eternity to Alfred. Whenever this day rolled around, all of the other nations turn to America, worry written all over their faces. But the American continued grinning his Hollywood smile and go along with the day as if that day never happened. He didn't want to look weak in front of his colleagues. He didn't want any of that. He just wanted to go on with his life. He wanted to keep his emotions inside so that it doesn't show outside.

And so far, it had worked.

Alfred placed his Texas framed glasses on and maneuvered his way to his drawer to pick out an outfit for the day, which consisted of a pair of jeans, Nikes and a black t-shirt. Now, one would think that he would be preparing for the ten year memorial over in New York City where the twin towers once stood. His boss decided to not have Alfred at the memorial today for he fears it might bring back the pain that he had to suffer. Alfred, of course, refused at first, telling him that he would be fine, but as the day grew closer, his attitude changed from calm to slight paranoia. He tried desperately to not let his emotions take over; however, his boss noticed this and ordered him to stay home today. Despite Alfred's protests, he eventually caved in.

After he changed, he walked over to his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and looked around for something to eat. He eventually found a carton of eggs, a bag of already cut up vegetables, milk and leftover bacon from the other day. He shrugged, grabbed the food and closed the door. He placed the food on the counter top and opened up another drawer and pulled out a spatula and a frying pan. He placed the pan on the stove top and was about to turn it on when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Alfred looked up, his gaze turned towards the sound. Wondering who it was, he placed the spatula next to the pan and walked towards the door. Alfred reached the door and turned the handle. Once he pulled the door open, the nation stood with eyes wide open. Standing at his doorway was none other than England himself. He wore a white, button up shirt with a grey tie that matched nicely with his grey dress pants and his shiny, black shoes. He looked up at the shocked nation with sympathy as he tried to smile as if to comfort the suffering nation in front of him.

"Hello, Alfred..." England said; his tone full of comfort and worry.

America just stood there, wondering why England, of all people, was at his house on this day of all days. "England..." was all the American could conjure up.

They stood there in silence for a while, until England cleared his throat and asked, "Umm... Do you mind if I come in?"

Alfred shook his head, trying to shake the surprise out of him and quickly added, "Uhh... Sure... Come on in... I was just about to make breakfast..." as he gesture the older nation inside his home.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I interrupted -" Arthur said.

"No, no it's cool... It's cool... Umm... W-would you like some tea?" Alfred flustered; cheeks now pink of embarrassment for stumbling.

"... Yes, that would be lovely..." England answered, attempting another sympathy smile as he walked into the living room and sat on the couch in front of the coffee table.

Alfred closed the front door and made his way back into the kitchen as he got out a box of Earl Grey and a coffee mug. As he was preparing England's drink and his breakfast at the same time, he couldn't help but think. Why was Arthur here, of all days? Was he trying to comfort him? Was he sent here by the queen or by his own whim? Was he worried that America might snap and cause chaos? All of these thoughts were interrupted by England shouting from the living room, "Alfred, I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if I turn on the telly?" America stopped swirling the eggs in the frying pan and looked up. "Uhh... Sure, go right ahead..." And soon he heard the sound of the TV being turned on in the living room.

America shrugged and went back to cooking his eggs, opening up the bag of vegetables, scooping out a handful and throwing it into the eggs as he stirred them around with his spatula. He then crumbled the bacon in his other hand and tossed it into the mixture as well. As he was about ready to toss his eggs onto a plate, he could hear his boss' voice from the TV, talking about the monument that stood in back of him and talking to his fellow Americans about the travesty that happened ten years ago... America didn't want to hear it.

"Umm... England, do you mind changing the channel? I honestly don't want to hear this..." Alfred shouted from the kitchen as he poured water into the coffee maker, preparing coffee for himself and also chugging a glass of milk in the process.

"Oh, sorry..." England shouted as he flipped the channel. Again America heard his boss talking. Alfred could hear England grumble as he continued changing it, channel after channel. But even so, it seemed that every channel had one thing on and it was the memorial ceremony.

Alfred sighed and ate his breakfast before pouring coffee into his favorite mug. He tossed the fork, plate and milk glass into the sink, grabbed both mugs of coffee and tea and made his way towards the living room. He heard the TV turn off as he walked in, a disgruntled England sitting on the couch. He looked up as America walked in, worry still written in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Alfred, it looks like nothing else is on..." he said as he, once again, produced a smile on his face.

Alfred placed the mug of tea in front of England as he sat down next to him. "It's alright..." he said. There was a pregnant pause of staring in the distance and sipping of coffee and tea until, "... Why don't we just see what's On Demand?" Alfred suggested. England turned to look at him, still smiling. "Sounds lovely..." he said before Alfred pressed the button on his controller.

He started flipping around to see what movies are available, not even aware that England's gaze was still on him. Arthur couldn't help but notice that Alfred's mood was a bit somber. He could see the sadness and pain coming from his eyes. America was always like this when this day comes. Arthur knew that Alfred was traumatized by the event and he knew that, even though on the outside, Alfred looked like his normal self, deep down, he was trying all of these years to bottle up his pain whenever September rolled around. This was probably one of the biggest events Alfred had to suffer through and England knew he has to do something for him.

Especially after ten years.

"Hey, England, what do you say we watch this?" Alfred said after a very long silence as he gestured to the TV screen. Arthur turned his head and saw that he picked "The Dark Night." Arthur shrugged, "Alright, then..." and Alfred pressed the play button and sat back on the couch.

The movie played for an hour or so as the two men sat there in silence, mugs already empty, until Alfred decided to speak. "Hey, England..."

"Hmm?" was all England said as he continued staring at the TV.

"Umm... I don't mean to be rude or anything... But, uh-" America started but was soon interrupted.

"You're probably wondering why I am here, aren't you?" England piped up. Alfred sat there, not sure what to say.

"Alfred, I'm going to be completely honest with you here," he said as he grabbed the remote control and paused the movie. He then turned to look at Alfred. "I know that deep down, you are still suffering. That day must have been horrible to you. Feeling your people suffer, watching your precious monument turn to rubble before your eyes, it's tragic. I know what it's like; I've been through the London blitz and, sadly, the revolution," Arthur paused, and then continued. "The pain haunts me still, but I have lived to move on. I can tell that you are attempting and I applaud you. But I can still see the pain in your eyes and... I'm worried for you..." Arthur turned his gaze towards his lap as his expression changed. "It's not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up for so long. I know you think it'll make you look weak, but believe me," he looked up once again, sympathy in his eyes, "you won't."

Alfred stared at those emerald orbs for a long time. He felt the pain in his chest rising. He felt his lips twitch and his cheeks turn red and he started sniffing, trying not to let all of his feelings out at once. He turned his head so England cannot see his face, feeling extremely embarrassed that he was about to cry in front of him. He then felt his glasses being pulled off as a pair of soothing arms wrapped around his neck, making him jumped. He can feel England's hands rubbing his back slowly as he tried to comfort him.

"It's alright, Alfred," England whispered in America's ear. "Let it all out."

Alfred couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms around England tightly and placed his head against his shoulders, allowing the tears to form and fall onto England's good shirt. America's shoulders shook and trembled as he sobbed loudly onto England's shoulder. All of his emotions, pain and suffering coming out all at once. All of these suppressed feelings he kept inside him for ten years finally being released. England continued to hold onto him as he rubbed his back, his eyes staring at the wheat colored hair that shook dramatically as America continued to cry. England smiled and pulled America closer.

"A-Arthur..." Alfred croaked.

Arthur stopped and sat there in shock. Never, in all of the years after the revolution, had America said his human name. Two hundred and thirty-five years passed since then and Alfred said his name for the first time. England smiled as his hug tightened and Alfred continued to cry.

What seemed like an eternity later, America lifted his head off of Arthur's shoulder, his gaze downward as he tried to calm down after his sudden outburst of emotion, wiping his nose with his arm in the process. England cupped his face in his hands as he wiped the tears with his thumbs. "Shh... Alfred, it'll be alright, I'm right here."

Alfred's gaze turned back to Arthur's. A light blush covered his already puffy face and Arthur smiled warmly into his gaze. They continued staring into each other for a while until Alfred grinned back. "Heh... I look like a mess, don't I?" Arthur smirked, "A little... But you are still you..."

"You're just saying that..." Alfred said, turning his gaze to the coffee table.

"Alfred," Arthur said, forcing the sky blue eyes to return back to his. "I am not just saying that... You are a powerful country... You may be a bit naive and loud, but you are strong, none the less... Even heroes like Batman or Superman need a shoulder to cry on every now and then... I don't think of you so low now that you have let out all of your emotions... You are still the America I know before and after that day... I-" It was Arthur's turn to gaze down at the table, letting out a heavy sigh and then returning the gaze back to America's. "... I care about you, Alfred..."

Alfred felt his heart skip a beat. "Arthur..." America whispered, his heart rate rising a bit as he stared into the caring green eyes.

The next thing Alfred can remember was England pulling himself toward him, closing the gap between the two men. Alfred felt his heart skip a few more beats as he stared back at Arthur's already closed eyes. Alfred felt himself slowly closing his own as he kissed Arthur back. He felt his hand cupping England's own cheek and England felt himself smile into the kiss. It was a calm and slow kiss and there wasn't even any tongue involved. For what seemed like forever, the two men broke apart. Arthur's hold on Alfred's face was soon released and he took Alfred's hands into his, looking back at the blue orbs he cared for so much. "I really do care about you, Alfred... Always have and always will... Don't let this day haunt you for the rest of your life, Alfred, alright?" Arthur asked as he took one of his hands and gently pushed a piece of Alfred's locks away from his eyes.

Alfred stared back, and soon a smile spread across his face as he nodded. "... Thank you, Arthur..." he said, his gaze turned down towards the conjoining hands. "... For everything..."

Arthur smiled and squeezed the others hands as he leant forward to kiss his forehead, "You're welcome, love..."

September 11th, 2011... A day that America, Alfred F. Jones, will never forget...

Author's Note: HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG D8

I don't know where I was going with this... All I was trying to write was this:

Basically, ten years of bottling up his feelings has taken a toll on poor America because he thinks he'll look weak and vunerable... England then shows up, telling him it's not right to hold it in and then proceeds to tell him to let it all out, letting him know that he's right there...

I wasn't originally gonna have them kiss... But I just couldn't resist... It was too heart warming for me... CB

I am planning on redoing this piece of fiction so hang tight... I honestly do NOT like how it turned out... D: This will be an In-progress fiction until I redo the story THEN it'll be completed... ^^;

But until then, RIP 9/11 victims... 3