Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfiction, so all reviews are much appreciated! Just as a note, this is a prologue to the story. Ahh...the summary was kind of bad. I couldn't fit in everything I wanted to in the word limit.

There are quite a few pairings in this story! The main pairing is USUK.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA:AXIS POWERS. THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE CREATOR/OWNER OF HETALIA.

And yes, I did use a line from HetaOni. So credit to Hetaoni as well!

The smell of death and ashes was everywhere. America clenched his eyes shut. It was to be expected, after all. Their world was gone.

It had all started with a single murder that had ignited a war between two very powerful countries. Men could never control their emotions very well. They let go of reason, as did their countries, and caused mass destruction. Slowly, other nations had been dragged into war, until it truly was a world war. They all took sides. The only country that refused to have a part in this war was, surprisingly, Russia. He had a simple smile on his face as the countries crumbled around him. Fifty years, a hundred years had gone by without any side relenting. The ground was littered with blood.

Science had improved exponentially throughout these years and the years before. New, more dangerous weapons were invented, bloodthirsty leaders stopping at nothing to destroy their enemy, and they used science as a weapon, completely disregarding the effects on their environment. The air was so poisonous in some places one breath could kill. The water had become so disgustingly polluted and toxic that it could no longer sustain life. Nature was dying. Natural disasters occurred at an alarming rate. This war was more than brutal. It was the end of the world.

The ground was an ugly maroon color, dry and cracked. The water levels had risen so much that Hawaii was gone. Iceland was basically nonexistent. Many of Japan's islands were underwater. Every country had suffered great losses. Everyone…everything…

But in the past years scientists had built many large space ships, capable of holding thousands, and greatly enhanced the Space Station. They knew that the human race would no longer survive on Earth. But there was no other planet within a reachable distance able to support human life. Predictions indicated that after some amount of years, with no further destruction and harmful substances, the earth would begin to mend itself, and slowly calm down. Life would return to what it was, but the damage would be beyond repair. The earth plates had shifted such that some landmasses were close to breaking and spreading apart. Islands were gone forever. However, it was always possible to begin anew in the destroyed world. It was possible to start up new societies and begin to cultivate whatever fertile land was left. So, scientists decided to take people up to the Space Station, send huge amounts of food and other required goods with them, and stay there until it was safe to go back.

While it was indeed hard to transfer the millions of people to the Space Station, more than 2 billion had died during the war. Most refused to leave their homeland, and died with their families. But some did leave, and were safely moved to the Space Station. Those that stayed behind would die quickly from disease, disasters, or the deteriorating environment.

And finally, with the war ending in a stalemate because of the dangerous environment, it was time for the nation's leaders to leave the now uninhabitable planet. They were all going to go to the Space Station as well. And, being countries formed on Earth, it was impossible for the personifications to leave with them. Without any people left, a nation was no longer a nation. Without sturdy land and borders to support it, a nation could not exist. And these rules would both be broken. This was goodbye.

"It's been a pleasure knowing you, America," he said, his voice shaking with sadness. "It is time to leave. My rocket will be taking off soon. And so," he said, with a firm handshake, "Goodbye."

America flashed him a thumbs-up, but the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes was gone. His blond hair had streaks of black soot, his eyes were hollow, his skin was slightly decayed, and he lacked the muscles he used to have. He was so skinny that his old bomber jacket almost fell off. He was missing a couple of fingers, and his glasses were broken, lying on the ground somewhere in his once-beautiful country of America. He'd been through so much pain that he couldn't fully comprehend how he was still standing.

He was practically half-blind, as he only saw blobs of color, but recognized his leader. The blob slowly walked away, wearing what seemed to America like a black suit and tie, but not before handing America a large Star-Spangled Banner. "God Bless America!" his leader shouted to America, his voice cracking. He walked away from what used to be the country he was proud of. He still was. Some countries had died completely, but America…America had survived. But he was going to die. They all knew it. This was the fate of the Earth because of mankind. The countries…one by one…

Around the world, the leaders had said goodbye to their countries. And they had all departed on a large space rocket to the Space Station. Finally, the countries were alone. Alone. To die.

America held up his flag proudly, the dirtied Star Spangled Banner with holes in it as his leader departed. England, in the ruins of London, crouched down before a crumpled up Union Jack sprawled on the floor, bending down and letting tears soak the cloth, but had seen the Queen and Prime Minister off with a smile and a salute. North Italy, in Rome, was red from crying as he weakly gathered his flag around him like a blanket. His hair was ruffled and messy, the beautiful color ruined with streaks of gray. South Italy held it up beside his brother proudly, his eyes revealing nothing. Spain sighed in Madrid, letting his flag rest on his lap, as he leaned against a burned building and looked up at the red sky. Many countries did the same – proudly took their flag in their hands, waving it. It was near dark. Near death.

Yes, now was the time. Slowly, the remaining countries that hadn't died yet stood up, and painfully made their way to the island of Seychelles from their respective countries, the only small island that did not sink yet. They had said goodbye to the land they had known all their life before leaving, each a tear or two slipping out of their eyes. They had thought themselves invincible. Able to live past anything. They thought they could never die. But now, standing in their countries, terribly sick, mutilated, and their vision blurry…they had nothing to say. They sailed across the ocean, using whatever high-tech ship survived.

Finally, when all the remaining nations had gathered in the central clearing on the island, they said nothing. They just looked at themselves. It was a harsh reminder of what they had gone through. Bloody, scars, tears, dirt, ashes; red, raw flesh...missing limbs...grotesque-looking injuries that would never heal...

Until finally, someone broke the silence. "Big Brother!" Liechtenstein shrieked, her hair matted, and painful-looking cuts dripping blood across her face. She hugged Switzerland desperately, crying, while he looked down at her, his eyes pained. And that seemed to be a stimulus. Slowly, the countries began to talk, to cry, to shout, to rant, and even to die. Cameroon fell first, the last thing he saw was Seychelles' face; the last thing he felt were her tears on his face. Chaos broke out, so much anger, pain, sadness…

Eventually, the countries settled into groups, and small, hushed conversations began as night fell. The red sky was gone now. The moon, the beautiful moon…it was a full moon that night. Ironic, wasn't it? Countries like Greece always had a fascination with the moon. But today the moon would betray them. Earth would betray them. And they could not fight death.

"England." America called, his voice quiet and defeated, all arrogance gone.

England turned around at the source of the voice. "A-America?" he asked, his voice cracking.

America walked over to the blob of color that looked like England, and gave him a sad smile. "Hey, dude." Then, America gasped. Those beautiful emerald eyes…he could see them so clearly...they looked glazed over, and a lot lighter. "England…what…"

"What? What is it?" he asked, his voice trembling and scared.

"It's…nothing," America said, shaking his head. There was no way…"Let's go sit over there," he suggested, pointing.

"Where?" England asked, his face still fixed on the spot the voice was coming from. America pointed again, but England's eyes didn't move, or even waver slightly.

"Shit, man…" America cursed loudly, then held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He held up the hand that had a couple of fingers missing, and he knew that England would look shocked if he saw it. They hadn't seen each other in ages...they fought different battles. He was so busy the past few years he even skipped out on World Summits. He looked at England expectantly, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, America." England said, his voice suddenly calm. "I can…no longer…see…"

The howl that left America's mouth was muffled as England rushed forward and hugged him.

America sniffled, tears pouring out of his eyes. "I-I'm fine," England whispered, and America's shaking arms slowly the smaller nation. The two stood, unmoving, just struggling to breathe.

Until, finally, England gasped, then went limp. That little girl...that last survivor...she was dead. His beautiful island was ravaged and broken. The ground was practically level, save the debris. America, shocked, shook him a bit. But, seeing no response, slowly set him down on the ground. "England, dude? Not a good joke. Y-You still have a…crap-ton of money to pay me! Remember?"

No response.

"A-And…I won't miss you at all, dude! I just need your money! It's not good to have debts, you know!"

No response.

Usually by now England would have replied with some snide comment, like 'You are in no position to lecture me about debt' or something similar. As he bent down so that his ear was next to England's chest, he couldn't hear a heart beat. No. He would not accept it. He let out a blood-curling scream, then hugged England's dead body, crying into his chest. "No….England…" he whimpered, feeling the body go cold. But he would not leave him. Not now, not ever.

He sat for a while, holding England while looking at nothing in particular. He never actually saw England in his last moments that clearly…but his glassy, unfocused, blind eyes…he could see those very clearly. He looked at the blob of color in his hands.

He may have been there for an hour. Maybe a day. He thought about a lot of things. About his brother, for instance. About what was going to happen to the earth after they all left. There are so many things he could have done differently...so many things he wanted to do...Damn it! He could never say it! Never tell England...what he truly...And now, he was dead. His beloved one was dead. Grief washed over him so much that he wanted to die.

When America finally took his last breath, it had been with the person he cared about most by his side. Was I your hero?

"Ja…pan?" Greece said quietly, limping, one of his arms gone, his hair falling out. "Japan, where are you?"

"Koko ni," came a weak voice, and Greece's heart plummeted when he saw him. There, lying, with his sword lying limp in his right hand, was Japan. He was a ghostly pale, his eyes slits, his chest heaving heavily, his hair thick with sweat. Greece noticed his foot was missing, along with his left arm. How had he managed to drag himself on a ship to Seychelles?

"Japan!" Greece cried, falling to the small man's side. "Japan…" he whispered.

Japan looked up at him weakly, smiled, then said, "Greece-san, just know that…I always…" He tried to get up, to lean towards Greece, but suddenly fell to the ground. His heart wasn't beating. The sea had crushed it.

Tears poured out of Greece's eyes. Wordlessly, he laid down beside Japan, looking up at the few stars. "Goodbye, Japan…" he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Bastard, where are you!?" Romano growled, his left eye covered with an eye patch, to cover what wasn't there at all. "SPAIN!"

"Over here, Roma…." Spain said, sighing, and Romano saw him leaning against a large pile of debris. "How are you doing?"

Romano gasped when he saw the state of Spain. His tanned skin looked unnaturally pale, and he was missing both of his arms, replaced by ugly-looking stubs. Spain's white shirt was cut up and dirty. Blood covered everything. But his kind eyes- they were the same. Those green eyes that had always cheered Romano up. Those green eyes that had always annoyed him to no end.

"Spagna!" Romano shouted, running towards Spain, tearing up. He collapsed next to him, suddenly feeling weak. "Ow..." he muttered, wincing as he cut his hand on a piece of glass. Not that it mattered now. He was going to die anyway, and he wasn't going to cry about it like Veneziano. What was he expecting? He knew he couldn't live forever. Nothing lasted forever. If Grandpa Rome couldn't, he couldn't either.

Spain chuckled, closing his eyes and scooting closer to Romano. "You and I…we'll always be together, won't we, Roma?" He tried to embrace him, but, seeing as he had no arms, simply leaned against Romano contently.

"What are you talking about, bastard?" Romano asked, his voice wracked with sobs. He couldn't take this. It was too much, seeing Spain like this.

"We will," Spain whispered, before sighing, and ceasing to breathe.

Romano sighed, ignorant of what had just happened. "What are you talking about?" He was silent, waiting for a response, then, annoyed that Spain hadn't answered, turned to face him, only to feel his heart drop in his chest. Spain did look a bit more peaceful - but his eyes were closed, and his skin was even paler. He touched a gentle hand to the Spaniard's cheek, saying, "O-Oi, Spain..." He recoiled when he felt that it was colder than normal. "S-Spain...you idiot, open your eyes already!" Romano aimed a weak punch at Spain's chest, only to feel that it lacked all muscle. Yes, Spain's land was gone. His people were gone. His strength was gone. Romano couldn't control himself anymore. Tears poured like rivers out of his eyes.

"No! SPAIN!" he cried, hugging the Spaniard. "You can only die after me, bastard!" Romano shouted, and sat next to the dead body, crying. "A-And..t-ti amo..." His voice was reduced to a whimper. Suddenly, he felt it. A huge tsunami, huge hurricanes, huge earthquakes…overtaking Italy…He couldn't breathe. It hurt so much. He felt his people dying. And all was black. All was peaceful. All was still.

Germany and Italy leaned against each others' backs, facing away from each other while looking up at the stars. "So, Japan wanted to die alone, you know?" Italy said quietly, his voice having lost its cheerfulness. "Germany, we're all going to die." His right eye was covered with an eyepatch, but his left eye was strangely bright. Almost like it was...hopeful?

"I know," came the gruff response.

"Will you miss me?" Italy asked quietly, unmoving.

"…"

"Ahh…I think I'll miss you a lot, Germany."

"…"

"So I just want to thank you for everything, you know? You've been so brave and strong and have protected me a lot. I don't know what I'd do without you. We're always partners, you and I."

"…"

Suddenly, Italy collapsed, lying on the ground with heaving breaths. The natural disasters had come. He couldn't breathe. He coughed, no water coming out. Stay alive a little longer! I have something I need to say to Germany! he silently begged the old man and his family - the last people alive in Northern Italy. If they died...there'd be no more people in Italy. He'd die.

Germany suddenly turned around, alerted at his fall, and revealed his face coated in tears. Tears that said 'Yes, of course I'll miss you!' 'No, I want to thank you! You did so much for me!'

Italy looked up at his face in surprise, then smiled at him as the coughing subsided and his heart was slowly beating its last. "Germany…I love you a lot." He closed his eyes, his body at eternal rest.

"ITALY!" Germany cried, pressing his face to the Italian's chest in grief. "No…"

But he felt it, too. That tsunami. The world was in turmoil. Earthquakes…shaking his body…his heart. He gasped. His people were dead. His body went limp. Everything was black.

Norway looked down at Denmark's dead body. Ah, he was dead already. He was always so arrogant…in the end, he couldn't have even survived long enough to say goodbye. He sighed, brushing Denmark's hair back. Norway sat next to him, saying nothing, his face emotionless. He ran his hands through Denmark's hair, but refused to look at his face. When he did, a small tear escaped his eyes, until what he was sure was a waterfall was pouring out of his eyes. He saw Sweden, who was near Denmark, pick up Finland lightly in his arms before walking away. Before he did, he gave Norway a slight nod, and said goodbye. Norway nodded back. "Danmark…" he whispered, looking at Denmark's dead body, before keeling over and joining him. Before he died, he had whispered one thing. "Jeg elsker deg, idiot."

Sweden carried Finland to a small, secluded area, before setting him down and looking at him. He was so small, so sweet, so kind…yet had to go through all of this. Sweden was overcome with anger. He kissed Finland lightly on the forehead, before finally saying goodbye to the dead nation. Finland had been completely destroyed. The land was either cracked up or underwater. Sweden sat next to him, looking up at the sky. He was overcome with sadness, but also felt peaceful. Here, when the world was crumbling around them…he was next to Finland, with nothing bothering them. And when his heart beat its last, he cracked a smile. A smile for the innocent determination of that seven year old boy who wanted to live. And a smile for his loved one. His Finland.

China sighed, walking over to Russia, before he tripped and fell on the ground, wincing in pain. His ankles were broken, and walking was unbelievably painful. He looked up at Russia, who smiled down at China. "China~You don't look well," he commented. Russia seemed well – almost like the war hadn't affected him at all. His gray hair seemed brighter than before. But Russia also lost a lot of weight, and didn't seem as strong as before. But his intimidating aura remained.

"Russia…" China groaned, before Russia pulled him up into a standing position. "Thank you, aru…"

"Of course," Russia nodded, still smiling.

"R-Russia, I can't…I can't breathe…" And once again, China collapsed on the floor, this time closing his eyes. "I don't want this anymore, Russia." he said, groaning and trying to pull himself up. With Russia's help again, he stood up, and hobbled over to a rock, which he sat on. He looked at the land wistfully.

"So much change in 4000 year." he said sadly. "No good."

Russia nodded, tilting his head while looking at China.

And, quite abruptly, blood began oozing out of China's eyes, almost like tears. China let out a wail, the blood mixing with his own tears of pain. Russia jumped to his side, whispering comforting words in his ear and wiping away the continuous flow of blood with his scarf. "China! China, it's okay!" Russia said, a rare concern in his voice. "China!"

Like a string-controlled marionette dropped by its master, China fell onto the ground, dead.

"Ah…You left me alone, China," he whispered, tears falling out of his always seemingly-happy eyes. His hands started to shake as he bent down and touched China's cheek gently. "No..."

France sighed as he saw Hungary's, Prussia's, and Austria's bodies in a line, all of them holding hands. They had died together. How romantic. Prussia was one of his best friends, and yet he'd never told France about his obvious affections for Hungary, and sometimes Austria. What a player. France chuckled to himself. He'd always thought Prussia would meet his end by drinking too much beer.

The events of the past years had twisted his heart, leaving an empty, gaping hole. No longer did he cry. His tears were gone.

An ugly gash destroyed the Frenchman's natural beauty. His right arm was missing, and his blond hair was tangled and greasy. He walked by Lithuania and Poland, who were dead, lying over each other in a kind of comic way. He chuckled, continuing to walk. Yes, he saw Hong Kong and Taiwan hugging each other, an arrow piercing through both their bodies. Did they commit suicide together? Or did…or did somebody do the favor of killing them? Everyone was dead...Switzerland and Belgium…Cute little Liechtenstein...the seemingly unbeatable Turkey…Seychelles crying over Cameron...she was alive! When France approached her, she looked up at him, her eyes watery, and shook her head. She didn't want words. He nodded, walking towards Russia instead.

"So," he said, walking over to Russia crying over China, "It is all over now, yes? Everyone is gone."

"Yes," Russia smiled, his voice deep. "Everyone is gone~"

"This is what you predicted, yet…you are sad." France stated, looking at the Russian.

"Yes." Russia replied tersely, his eyes still fixed on China. "And we are all alone~But you have nobody to cry over," Russia said, turning to face France.

"Ah, I have loved many, Russia," France sighed, "But my true love, she has left me a thousand years ago. But today, I will cry for my Angleterre and my Canada."

"Ah…I think I'll cry for China." Russia said simply, small tears escaping his smiling eyes. "But you won't survive for much longer, so you won't have to cry, da?"

"Yes, I think so," the Frenchmen chuckled, sitting down on the ground. "Well, it's about time I joined my love."

And he stopped breathing as the country of France was utterly destroyed.

Russia's smile remained. "Ah…you're leaving me too? Looks like I'm really alone."

He sat down next to China's body, beginning to braid his long, black hair. Halfway through, he stopped. "That land with the sunflowers…the sun…a warm place…I want to go there, da…" he whispered, before closing his eyes, a smile on his face. His pain was over at last.

Canada couldn't take it anymore. Everyone was gone. He watched everyone die from afar…even his brother! They never noticed him, but he saw it all. He saw the great Russia fall. He knew his brother had loved England. He knew Russia, despite his creepiness, truly loved China. He knew Lithuania and Poland, like many others, wanted to be together. Spain and Romano...But as countries, it was impossible. He had seen it all. Words were left unsaid, but…

Hugging dead Kumajiro close, he prayed. Prayed for salvation. Eventually, he felt an earthquake shake the land he was lying on. He knew water would eventually bring Seychelles under the ocean. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her topple over. So, that earthquake had killed her. If he didn't die first, he'd die by drowning. Maybe that wouldn't be as bad as feeling his country break apart, or the last of his people dying out. He gasped suddenly, his face paling. Yes, he'd die first.

And as he died, the last to die out of everyone, he gazed over at him. The one he truly loved was lying on the ground close to him, an ugly gash scarring his face. The one who noticed him, and even complemented his hair. But he was dead, too. And so Canada accepted his fate. But as he did so, he prayed for salvation. Prayed for a second chance. Prayed for everyone's happiness. Prayed for a New World.

Koko ni - I'm here. [kind of informal]

Ti amo - I love you

Jeg elsker deg, idiot.- I love you, idiot

.

The nations that made it to Seychelles were:

England[with the help of Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland who died on the ship. Sealand died ten years before the end of the war], America, Canada[who buried Cuba just before he left for Seychelles], Russia[who came with Belarus and Ukraine, but they died on the way there], China, Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, Austria[Kugelmugel died at the same time as Austria], North/South Italy, Germany/East Germany[Prussia], Hong Kong, Taiwan[though Taiwan almost died before it. South Korea, Thailand, Macau, and Vietnam all died long before everyone went to Seychelles], Belgium, Netherlands, Cameron, Egypt[Egypt and Cameron were the only African nations to survive and make it to Seychelles], Turkey[All middle-eastern nations died before Turkey went to Seychelles], Seychelles[obviously], Switzerland, Liechtenstein, France[Monaco died twenty years before the end of the war], Spain, Japan, Greece, Denmark, Norway, Iceland[The Nordics dragged his body with them], Sweden, Finland, India, and Romania[who was assisted by Latvia, Estonia, New Zealand, Australia, and Seborga, all of whom died on the way there.]