A/N: So, I've sort of become an avid AmericaxBelarus shipper in the past few hours? Like, legit: I've been reading all the fanfiction possible in three hours. That's why I was inspired to write my own angsty, human! AU one-shot about Alfred and Natalya (I have way too much time on my hands, as you can see). Anyways... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

It was the phone call she hoped to never receive.

The voice on the other end—no matter how sympathetic—washed over her like a cold wave. Her fingers shook as she slowly ended the call. The phone clattered to the ground as it fell from her shaking hand. Her shallow breaths turned into gasps between sobs as she sank to her knees. The linoleum felt cool underneath her bare legs. Tears splattered on the floor. She buried her face in her hands. This couldn't be happening. No, this wasn't real. She would wake up next to him soon because he had been home all along. This wasn't real. None of it was real. She wasn't in their lovely house in D.C; she was back home in Minsk where this didn't happen, and where she wasn't alone for months on end while he was stationed in some country overseas. More tears blurred her vision. He'd be home with her making those awful jokes of his while she rolled her eyes. He'd make her strange and colorful breakfasts as to not wake her while she slept late. She lay her head back against the kitchen cabinet, and closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. Those rare smiles of hers were always reserved for him; he was the only one who could make her break out in genuine laughter. He always said she looked even prettier when she smiled. That her smile illuminated everything in the room, and could put the sun to shame. Her blue eyes shone brighter than the stars, and her fair skin made the moon jealous. A choked sob escaped her pink lips—the lips he kissed every morning and every night in greeting and farewell. Her hand in his; the gold wedding band still twinkled on her ring finger. That last kiss they had shared before he left suddenly seemed too short. Had she known it was a final goodbye she would have never let him go. It hurt to breathe; there was a dull aching in her chest. Her mouth felt dry like it was filled with cotton. She shook with every ragged breath she took to calm herself down. Rain clouds gathered in the sky outside. And to think it had been such a pretty day. His most recent letter lay unopened on the counter. She hadn't had time to read it.

Big brother was right. He would end up destroying her in one way or another.

But everything would be just fine when she woke up.

The early morning sun shone brightly to melt away the fog that had gathered on the ground. Birds chirped good morning to one another in the nearby trees. The military band played a song that would be forever stuck in her mind. An American flag lay face-up on the casket; officers picked it up gingerly—never letting it touch the ground—and folded it into triangles. She accepted the folded-up flag with a loose grip. She hardly paid attention to the rest of the ceremony. Instead, she focused on everything else: the smell of earth from the freshly-dug grave, the polyester of the flag she held in her hands, the granite of the headstone. She didn't even feel like she was present. She felt like an outsider looking in on something private; something she hoped she would never have to go through.

She just hadn't woken up yet.

Everyone offered their sincere condolences. His friends, his family; they were all there. She accepted hugs and soothing words from all of them. She noticed her own family wasn't there. Her sister would probably call later, but her brother wouldn't bother to acknowledge it. In the end, she was all alone. There was nobody left when they were all half a world away. One by one, the mourners left the cemetery. She sat down on a nearby bench. His box of letters and medals pressed against her swollen stomach. She placed a hand on it as if to reassure the baby inside of her. A family was something he had always wanted. He wouldn't get to see his little girl grow up.

The hours passed, and the sun started to hide behind the horizon. The birds had started to go quiet; their little songs no longer accompanied her as she sat. Slowly, she got up. The red roses- not unlike the ones he had always given her- threatened to fall out of her hand as she knelt down, and lay them on the still-fresh grave. She didn't want to get up. But she knew she had to. She clutched the flag to her chest, and got up just as slowly. Dirt stained her knees and hands. She wiped them off on her black dress. Then she left.

She had just woken up.

A/N: Props to anyone who catches the song referenced in the title.

- Lily