I wrote this a few years ago for the usuk short story anthology. I think my theme was yesterday.

Enjoy.

England sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled his knees up to his chest. Being invaded hurt, everything hurt, first the Vikings, and now this. If only he was stronger, he would think constantly, if only he could stand up for himself and fight them off properly, then maybe everyone would leave him alone.

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched on the other side of the tree. England flinched then grabbed his bow as he stood up, knocking an arrow as he peeked out behind the tree. Standing there was a man he had never seen before. He was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing fitted clothing made from the strangest materials England had never seen and some sort of shiny metal contraption across his face. Even stranger still, he was shouting at a black box in his hand as his stomped through the forest, although England couldn't understand the words. Some strange dialect of German, maybe. He tried to understand, but it was all gibberish to him.

As he stepped closer to the tree, England got that fuzzy feeling in the back of his head when he was in the presence of another nation. This man, with his foreign words and odd clothes and strange box, was a nation, quite possibly a new invader.

England wasn't going to sit there and let this new nation do whatever he pleased. He lifted his bow, pulled back the string, aimed carefully for the nation's head, and fired.

Too quick for England's eyes to follow the nation ducked, dropping his box, and drew a shiny, black thing and pointed it right at his tree.

It had to be a weapon, England decided as he ducked back behind his tree, that's the first thing he would have gone for if he was under fire. He might not recognize or understand it, but he had to treat the mystery object, and the mystery box, as a weapon if he wanted to survive this encounter.

"Who's there?" the nation asked, as clear as if he was speaking English, although with a bit of an accent. England knew it was just a trick, nations could always understand each other if both parties wanted to, although it through him for a loop the first time he heard Vikings speaking English. Still, while it was nice to be able to talk to this strange nation, he still had to be on his guard.

"Who is it?" the nation repeated, louder this time, "Show yourself."

England knocked another arrow, brought his bow up to firing position, and took a deep breath as he came out from behind the tree.

The nation was on one knee, arms steady, weapon pointing right at England as he came out of his hiding spot. England's arms shook as he aimed his arrow and kept his voice steadier than he felt, "This is English territory. Who do you think you are coming here?"

"England?" his eyes went wide as he lowered the weapon. England internally relaxed, but kept his bow up, "You're England aren't you? Of course it would be you, it always is."

England tensed and pulled back more on his bowstring, "Who are you? How do you know me?"

"Well the eyebrows are a dead giveaway," he laughed as he placed his weapon on the ground and raised his hands as he stood up. England kept his arrow trained on his chest, "And you really look just like England, but smaller."

"Stop acting like you know me!" England growled, "I've never seen you before in my life! Who are you?"

"I'm from the future, I know you there," he smiled, "You can call me Alfred."

"Alfred?" England smirked, "You're not that great. And don't lie to me. You are clearly a nation, and there is no nation named Alfred."

"I told you, I'm from the future. I can't tell you my real name or else I'll spoil everything, so you can just call me Alfred for now."

"You keep saying you're 'from the future,'" England narrowed his eyes, "But do you actually expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, because it's true. Here," he kicked over his box, "You've never seen anything like that before have you?"

England quickly looked down at the box before returning to glare at Alfred, tightening his stance and raising his bow again.

"I'm not going to hurt you, hero's promise," he kicked over his weapon as well, "I'm completely unarmed now. You can trust me."

"Trust is for fools and dead men;" still, he lowered his bow and picked up the strange box, "What even is this?"

"It's an iPhone. It's used to talk to people who are far away, among other things, but it's not working because there are no satellites."

England raised an eyebrow as he poked the shiny side of the eyefone. It lit up, showing him a world of lights as far as the eye could see, fairy light maybe. Startled, he dropped the phone and pointed his arrow at it.

"It's fine! It's not going to hurt you," Alfred was there, scooping up the eyefone and tapping on it, "There's not really much it can do right now anyway, except the calculator. You know math right?"

"Yes," England rolled his eyes, "we primitive folk in the eleventh century know a thing or two about math."

"Well yeah, Greece's mom was all over that, Egypt's too, that's how she built the pyramids. Math has been forever. I meant, well, whatever. Doesn't matter," he knelt down to England's level and showed him the eyefone, "See, you just put in your math problem and this'll solve it for you."

England tested it out for himself, and sure enough it did exactly what he said it would, "That's amazing! What kind of magic did you use?"

Alfred laughed, "It's not magic, it's science," he sat on the ground and crossed his legs, "Some of these other apps should be able to work too."

England climbed into his lap to get a better look as both weapons lay forgotten to the side.

Night fell, and England found himself stargazing with his new friend, asking him questions and trying to figure out where and when this strange nation came from.

"I came from the 21st Century," Alfred told him, "But I can't tell you where. You'll have to find that out on your own."

England frowned and shifted so he was sitting on Alfred's chest. He took his face in his hands to hold it still as he stared hard into his eyes.

Alfred shifted under him, "What are you doing?"

"You seem a bit Germanic, but also Nordic? But you're not European. I'd be able to tell if you were European," he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Alfred's, "You seem, different." He opened his eyes and leaned back, "What language are you speaking?"

"Hm?" Alfred slowly opened his eyes and blinked up at him, "Uh, English."

England's eyes narrowed, "Impossible. I'm speaking English, and I didn't understand you before."

Alfred grinned and mussed his hair, "A thousand years later I'm sure it sounds a bit different."

"But still, you're speaking my language," England turned to lean back against Alfred's chest, "Does that mean, in the future, we're friends?"

"Friends?" Alfred went still under him before letting out an easy laugh, "Yeah, we're friends."

"Oh," England smiled and laughed. The giddiness he got from that simple statement far too much to keep to himself, "Friends. I have a friend. A friend from the future but still," he turned onto his stomach so he was looking at Alfred's face, "I've never had a friend before. The fairies keep me company, but they're a bit flighty and not very good with friendship. Humans, humans die too easily, and other nations don't like me."

"Not true," Alfred grinned, "I like you just fine."

"Idiot," England buried his red face in Alfred's chest, "saying things like that so casually…"

"But it's true; I do like you, England. Always have and always will."

And England knew coming from a time traveler that must mean something.

England was out by the harbor when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Alfred standing there, same as ever, waiting to greet him.

"Hey England," he smiled, wide and honest and perfect, "Did you miss me?"

England laughed, "Only a whole lot," he raced forward and hugged him tightly.

It had been just over four hundred years since Alfred had first met him. In that time Alfred had done his best to see him several times a decade however his visits were sporadic at best. Alfred would show up out of the blue, stick around for a few days, and then vanish into thin air just as quickly. Despite that he was still England's closest friend; he had been there for him in his toughest times and always managed to put a smile on his face. Even if there was still a lot about Alfred he could never quite figure out, England had never felt this close to anybody, nation, human, fairy, or otherwise.

Alfred pulled away and held him at arm's length, "Wow, look at you! You're almost my height now."

"Pretty soon I'll be taller than you," England grinned.

Alfred laughed and rubbed his hair, "Keep dreaming."

England gave him a playful smack as he led him away and through London.

"So," Alfred began as they strolled down the street, "When are we?"

"Oh, I'd say it's about June," England smirked.

Alfred bumped his shoulder playfully, "June when?"

"1492 I believe."

Alfred stopped for a moment, eyes wide as he stared at England, "Already?"

England paused and raised an eyebrow, "Well yes, that's what happens when time moves forward, or did you forget with all your zipping around in it?"

"I, no," he bit his lip and looked at the buildings around, "It's just, wow. Your city looks great."

England blushed and turned away, "Thank you."

England continued to give him a tour of London, updating him on the things he'd missed since his last visit. Normally Alfred would ask him questions about what had or hadn't happened yet so he could get a sense of where in England's history he was, however this time he let England do most of the talking. Alfred seemed distracted, preferring to listen to England ramble about this discovery or that event and simply be in England's presence instead of contributing to the discussion in any way.

They stayed out until late and England ended up inviting Alfred back to his house for the night. Once there England finally ran out of things to talk about and Alfred, for once, did not bring up a new topic of conversation.

"Alfred, is everything alright?" England asked, "You've been a bit out of it all day."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "I'm sorry about that, but," he paused and bit his lip before continuing, "England, do you know a man named Christopher Columbus?"

England scrunched his brow in concentration, "No, the name doesn't sound familiar."

"He would have stopped by a few years ago, looking for financing for a voyage west to look for an alternate trade route to China."

England's eyes closed as he thought harder, "I, maybe? Someone was asking Henry for something like that a few years ago, it might have been your Columbus, but it was completely ridiculous. He was assuming the world is much smaller than it actually is and that it's possible to sail west and reach Asia," he chuckled, "His math was off. It's impossible for a ship to cross the Atlantic; it's simply too large for it to make it. Portugal thinks so as well," he nodded as if that was the final word on the matter, "I don't see why it matters now?"

"His assumptions are wrong," Alfred agreed, "There's no way a fifteenth century ship can sail west from Europe and arrive in Asia without stopping, the Earth is too big for that, but what if there was a place to stop between here and Asia?"

"You mean Africa?" England raised an eyebrow, "But Africa is south of Europe and one of Portugal's men already found a way around it."

"No, not Africa," Alfred rested his chin in his hands as his gaze fell to the table, "What if there was a landmass in the middle of the Atlantic between Europe and Asia?"

He scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous. How could there be land in the middle of the ocean that no one's ever heard about before?"

"China has never bothered to go much further east than Japan," Alfred shrugged, "And no European has been crazy enough to sail west. Well, I suppose the Vikings did," England twitched at the mention of his old adversaries, "but they weren't known for their record keeping."

"So, you're saying this Columbus character finds new land in the middle of the ocean," England drummed his fingers on the table as Alfred shifted in his seat, "I still don't see what that has to do with…" he trailed off as he gaped at Alfred, who went pink under his stare, "Don't tell me…"

"It is entirely possible," Alfred smiled, "that you have never been able to guess where I came from because you never knew it existed."

England slid down in his chair as the realization hit him, "A new world across the ocean. Imagine the possibilities."

"I know them well. They are, after all, part of my history," he closed his eyes, "and it really makes this difficult."

England's blood ran cold at the look in Alfred's eyes. He sat up and said, "Makes what difficult?"

"I'm sorry, England," he forced a smile on his face as he looked up, "I'm not going to be able to come visit you anymore."

The world went still as he tried to process Alfred's words, "I'm sorry?"

"I can't risk crossing my own time line. I've seen enough science fiction to know that's a bad idea," he sighed, "I don't, know exactly when I popped into existence. When I started this project I had to pick a cut-off date, a date I couldn't go past, and 1492 was the obvious choice."

"So, I'm," England swallowed, "I'm never going to see you again? You're the only nation who's ever liked or understood me, and you're leaving me too?"

"No," Alfred grabbed his hand and stared straight in his eyes, "England, listen to me. You'll see me again, I promise. I'm not going to be able to visit you anymore. You're going to have to visit me. And I'm," he fidgeted and glanced away, "I'm going to be a lot younger than you the next time we meet. But it'll be fine," he looked back up and smiled big and wide, "You'll take care of me, I know you will."

England lunged forward to wrapped his arms around Alfred and cry into his shoulder, "When?"

Alfred hugged him back, "Hm?"

"When am I going to find you again?" he muttered into his shoulder, "I don't, I'm not very good at sailing. Portugal offered to teach me, but he's much better than I am. France and Spain are too. I can't, I can't cross the ocean to you yet."

"You will," Alfred squeezed him tighter; "You'll make it. Sooner than you think."

"I can't even swim…"

"Since when have you ever let a little thing like that stop you?"

England laughed as he buried his face further into Alfred's shoulder, "I'm going to miss you."

He felt Alfred breath into his hair as he said, "I love you."

England he pulled back, eyes still watery, to stare at him, "What?"

"I love you," Alfred's grip on his waist tightened, "I always have, ever since I first met you, and I always will. No matter what happens between us or what I say or what I do, I will always love you, England. It's very important that you remember that."

"A-alright," he nodded and took a deep breath, "I lo-"

"Don't," Alfred interrupted him and leaned his forehead against England's, "Don't say that unless you mean it. Please."

Silence fell then, but after a moment England broke it by saying, "I will find you again, Alfred."

He felt him smile as he said, "I know you will."

And England knew, coming from a time traveler that meant something.

America stepped out of the time machine with a sigh. He gently shut the door and turned to the nearby computer to begin the shut down sequence. He may have hit 1492 this time, but he could still go back further if he wanted to. He could always explore the Roman Empire or Ancient Egypt or the Mayans even the time of the dinosaurs if he wanted to. So much untapped potential were still at his fingertips.

But maybe later. Right now he just wanted to sleep, or maybe give England a call.

As it turned out, he didn't need to. When he came up from his basement laboratory, America found none other than England glaring at him as he leaned against the opposite wall.

"Hey England," he chuckled nervously, "How are you?"

"Canada told me you were messing around with a time machine," he pushed off of the wall and took a few steps towards him, "I suppose I never did tell you I had a childhood friend who could travel through time who looked just like you."

America let out a high pitched laugh, "England, I know what this may look like but-"

"You're the king of the idiots, making me wait almost a thousand years for you," England paid his words no mind as he grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a bruising kiss.

When he pulled away, America blinked, "I, what was that for?"

"You're an idiot," he repeated as he kissed him again, lighter and far more gentle this time.

"I've always loved you too."