America and England were have the war talk again. The two nations were in England's office. America didn't want to be here. He hated this talk. They had it several times already this month alone and it was only the seventh. America glanced out the window. Snow was falling peacefully. Too bad that wasn't how this conversation was going.
"What's it going to take to get you to do your part in this war?" demanded England.
"Nothing! I don't want anything to do with your war!" shouted America.
"You don't seem to understand this," England shouted back. "I'm the only one left here! France is being held captive. And as soon as I'm gone, Germany and his Axis are going to come for you."
America glared at the other nation. Of course he understood this. Roosevelt had showed him the Axis' plan for his continent. It didn't matter though. His people hated getting involved in WWI; he wasn't going to commit them to another war they didn't want or need.
He told England such before and he would tell him again. "I don't want this; my people don't want this. And I'm not going to make them fight YOUR war again!"
"That's not what I've heard," countered England.
America's eyes narrowed to slits. "You think you know my people better than I do?"
"Roosevelt has-"
"I don't give a damn about Roosevelt! He's trying to help you, but it's not what my people want!"
England turned on his big brother voice. "Now listen here America-"
"Don't you dare take that tone with me, England! You can't boss me into this war."
England nearly growled in frustration. Why must America always be so difficult? He wanted to be the hero of WWI and he got it. He essentially saved Europe single handedly. What had changed in such a short amount of time? The young country had gone through a depression, but that was normal after a war as big as that one.
America continued. "I've been helping you. I've carried your planes on my ships and defended them, but I'm not going to let you drag us into a war that we have no-"
"Damnnit, America," England interrupted. "I'm not trying to drag you into this war."
"Really? It seems to me that exactly what Churchill's planning!"
England blinked in surprise. Sometimes he forgot how clever his younger brother could be. Of course America would be able to figure out his boss' plans - England had taught the young nation everything he knew.
"No. But we - I - need your help," England pleaded. "As much as I loathe to admit this, I'm not sure how much longer we're going to last."
America was taken aback at the older nation's statement. England had always been someone he looked up to. The brits had always waged war with precision and accuracy. For as long as America could remember, the only person England had ever lost to was him.
"This German blitz has nearly ruined us," the older nation continued. "We barely survived. If Germany does it again, I honestly doubt we'll survive."
America's heart pitied England. For the first time he saw how tired and old England was. His pirating and adventuring days were a thing of the past. All he was trying to do now was survive.
But at the same time he knew that he could never agree to the war. This wasn't a matter of pride or heroics - this was more. Entering the war now, would make him England's puppet and back in 1776 he promised himself that he would never be that again.
America squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared to speak. "England, I-"
Suddenly a sharp pain tore through America's chest and he cried out in pain. He fell to his knees and England was immediately at his side.
"America? America?! Alfred? Talk to me. What's wrong?" England demanded.
The young country could only grit his teeth. The pain was unbearable. "H-Hur-Hurts," he hissed. He clutched at his chest as if he could grab on to the pain and rip it out.
England didn't understand. The young country's incoherence wasn't helping either. America wasn't having a heart attack from all that greasy food he ate, was he? He shook his head, countries didn't have heart attacks. But this didn't make sense.
"Ar-Arthur?" America grasped on to the older country's hand. "S-So much d-death. Hur-Hurts."
England instantly figured out what was happening to his little brother. He was about to explain, when America's eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out from the pain.
America woke three hours later. He sat up slowly. The intensity of the pain had dulled to an ache, but the country still felt it. He attempted to get out of bed but England was there in an instant. The older country gently pushed him back into bed.
"Not now," England pressed. "You need to rest."
America licked his dry lips and swallowed. England picked up a glass of water and handed it to him.
For once, America didn't protest. It had been a long time since anyone had handled him with this much gentleness. Not that he was fragile, like Sealand or Finland, but it was a nice change. Most countries saw no need to wear kid gloves with a global superpower, regardless of how many or few orbits they had made around the sun.
America took the cup and sipped the liquid. When he was finished he handed the cup back and asked, "What," he paused to clear his throat, "What happened?"
England looked at the younger country and for the first time saw real terror in America's eyes. It surprised him and he couldn't look him in the eyes as he said, "You were bombed."
Dead silence filled the room. England dared a glance at America's reaction, however, he couldn't pin point the other country was feeling. England's thick, bushy eyebrows bunched up in concern.
"Alfred?" he asked worriedly.
"I-I was bombed?" America whispered.
England nodded solemnly.
"How? Where? Why?" The country sounded so young and lost. It made England wish for the colonial days where he could comfort his brother without any fear of retaliation.
"I don't think-"
"Tell me. Now," America had gone from child to global superpower instantly. It made sense though. This righteous fury he was experiencing was exactly how England had felt at the end of the first World War.
England sighed in defeat. "I don't know a lot. Your government isn't ready to share exactly what happened yet. But Japan has claimed responsibility for the attack. He hit one of your naval bases in Hawaii."
"Pearl Harbor," America whispered through gritted teeth.
England nodded. "That's the one they were reporting about."
There was silence for another moment, then America spoke.
"This is first time," he said quietly.
"What?" England asked confused.
"This is the first time I've been attacked on my own ground since the Revolution."
England fought for a moment. The younger country was right. The War of 1812 was primarily fought on the water. He knew America had gone through a civil war - he knew what that was like and never wanted to repeat that experience - but those were special cases. He had heard that the young nation had fought a war with the Spanish-Mexicans, but he had been dealing with his own problems at the time. The last World War was fought in Europe. So America was right. Another country had never shed American blood on American soil since England.
"I'm sorry, Alfred. I never-"
"No," America interrupted. "I'm sorry." England looked up at America's face to find justice-filled-fury etched into his features. "I'm sorry that I didn't join you sooner."
Surprise fluttered across England's mind. This was a total 180 from what the young country was saying before. America looked England straight in the eyes as he finished. And for the first time he found himself terrified of the power America could wield.
"If the Axis want war, I'll give them war."
A/N: First Hetalia fic!
Pearl Harbor - December 7, 1941
Japan bombs the naval port of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii in order to get America to relinquish the tariffs and the trade bans put on them. Safe to say it back fires and drags America into WW2, eventually leading to the atom bomb.
So what do you think? Leave any questions, comments, or snide remarks in a review!
