Hello, this is my first story. It should be pretty decently long. Looking into about ten chapters if this goes well. I'm really nervous, and I promise to reply to everyone who reviews and I value constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

No one noticed anything different from the usual clusterfuck that was a world meeting. America found the silly putty he'd snuck into the conference room far more interesting than anything England had to say about climate change, and thought nothing of the empty chair at the end of the elongated table. No one else did either.

Everyone was lost in their own world. America busied himself by throwing tiny chunks of putty into Russia's hair without him noticing, while the rest of the countries either slept or doodled in the margins of their paperwork. Only Germany was paying attention to England's presentation which was quickly degenerating into a rant about how the heat was going to affect the smog in London.

It wasn't until America left the meeting with Japan and a fuming England in tow that he started to feel an uncomfortable tingle in his belly. Still, he ignored it in favor of tuning out his brother's whining about how no one ever paid attention to anything important.

"America, will you listen? I swear I could hide my old pirate stash within that empty abyss inside your skull!"

"I don't know what that means, but if I wanted to listen to you bitch for three hours, I could go to Walmart at three a.m. and talk to the old guy that likes to rifle through the dumpster." He lightly punched England on the shoulder and laughed when the elder nation's face lit up with a brilliant shade of red.

"You need to grow up, America! Seriously, take some responsibility for once in your life!" His thick eyebrows nearly knitted together, making America laugh even harder.

"Sorry bro, but your face is killing me right now! You totally look like a pissed off muppet!" America held his sides and stopped at the crosswalk. "Japan, quick, take a picture! This needs to be documented!" He continued to laugh, awaiting the flash of the camera Japan seemed to always have on hand, but it never came. England continued to scowl and America's laughter died.

"You're a bloody fool, you know this, right?" England said.

"Uh, Japan?" When America didn't receive an answer he and England turned to find Japan several paces behind them, staring across the street.

America followed his line of sight to where cluster of police cars and an ambulance were parked in front of a convenience store. The nasty feeling he ignored the entire meeting reemerged with frightening abandon. America cringed. The only way he could describe it was it was similar to the feeling he got whenever he forced England to ride a roller coaster with him. Just before cresting the first large hill, the bottom always fell out of his stomach while a heavy pressure constricted his lungs with excitement.

Now, it wasn't excitement that caused it, but dread. Pure, intense dread.

He hurried over to Japan with England on his heels. "I wonder what is going on," Japan said. America didn't answer, for in that moment, everything fell together. The empty chair swam before his mind and every ounce of blood drained from his face.

Without another word America stepped off of the curb and headed towards the rotating red and blue lights. Some of his people were gathered in the middle of the street to see what the big fuss was about.

"America, what do you think you're doing?" England's voice vaguely carried over the sudden white noise raging in America's ears. He didn't even look across the street despite being in New York, the city where taxis had no qualms with plowing a stray pedestrian down. "We don't have time for this! If we're going to get something to eat before the meeting starts up again, we can't play horrified pedestrian!"

"A-America-san? What's wrong?" America didn't bother to turn around to answer Japan's tentative question. It was getting harder to breathe the closer he got to the convenience store.

"Excuse me." He shouldered past a few people.

"I'm so sorry," he heard England say behind him. "I don't know what's gotten into him." America didn't entirely know either. All he knew was it was something bad. Every instinct screamed for him to make it to the front of the crowd.

Once he pushed between the last throng of people, his breath became so constrained that it hurt to breathe. Yellow caution tape blocked the front of the convenience store while the glass of the display window was shattered. The shards sparkled in the summer sun from their scattered place on the street.

America looked between the cop cars and saw something that made the entire world fall away around him. The shouts of the officers keeping people back became dull background noise lost in the white noise of his mind. Colors faded around him until everyone was the same dull gray, like his old silent films. America was sure he was going to hyperventilate because breathing hurt too much and every beat of his heart rattled against the inside of his chest.

Nestled in the garden of glass was a pair of bent glasses identical to his own. A spider web crack adorned the left lens and the frames were twisted opposite ways. Patches of blood glistened over the pavement in a pattern that spewed toward the spectators.

Matthew. His brother's name felt too heavy for his tongue. It sounded too much like a conformation even in his mind, and America wasn't ready for that. He needed to find out more. No jumping to conclusions. "Excuse me, miss?" he asked the woman next to him without taking his eyes off of the bloodied glasses. "What happened here?"

"It was a robbery." The woman put a hand over her mouth. "Right in broad daylight, can you believe it? Some shots were fired and some people walking by outside were hit." She said something else, but was all jumbled up and didn't make any sense.

"America-kun, maybe we should go," Japan said. Had he followed him too? America didn't check, not even for England, who was talking as well. That was the problem. Everyone was talking, but America honestly couldn't hear them over his own thoughts that kept repeating the same obvious things, because none of this made any sense.

The lonely pair of glasses, the sirens, the spectators, the yellow tape, and the New York police all filled his vision to where he felt like he was staring at poorly put together collage, chaotic and migraine inducing. He focused instead on the glasses, but they too beckoned the panic to come out. America held it in by clenching his fists so hard his nails bit through his palm. If he panicked, with his strength he could seriously hurt someone.

Two paramedics jerked a stretcher upwards until the wheels hit the pavement. The scraping snap of metal against concrete forced America to look away from the glasses to where they were taking away one of the wounded, who even from a distance was all too familiar.

"Oh my God." America ducked under the caution tape. His heart thrummed in his ears when he saw a tangle of blond hair streaked with blood. Canada's eyes were still half-open, but they were glassy and unseeing.

America was no stranger to gunshot wounds, but nearly lost his footing on the loose carpet of glass when he drew near enough to see the gaping exit wound on the side of his twin's head. "Canada." It came out as barely a whisper. America wanted to scream, but for the first time in his life his voice wouldn't come. It remained lodged in the back of his throat where his breath was.

"America!" England cried from somewhere behind him.

"America-kun, I do not think we should enter!"

"Sir, stay back! This is a crime scene!" America felt rather than saw several police officers push him back. The panic he worked so hard to suppress surged through him when his progress was hindered, for when America met the eyes of Canada, he suddenly left his body and was instead hovering over it, watching himself struggle against the officers. "Let me go! That's my brother!"

Then he was suddenly back in his body and everything hurt and he just wanted to be there, because that was what big brothers did even if he was only older by a short stretch of time, and he was the hero, and Canada shouldn't be lying there looking like that, and it didn't make sense why they wouldn't let him see his own twin, and why wouldn't they let him go?

Without thinking, America swung both of his arms and sent all three police officers flying in both directions. There was a collective gasp from the people watching, but he didn't hear. All that mattered was getting to his brother. When at last his voice came it was loud and screechy even to his own ears.

"Mattie!" He made it to the stretcher and reached out a hand to touch the wound. "Oh God, Mattie! Mattie!"

"Sir, you have to give us space!" one of the paramedics said, holding a hand up, but clearly too afraid to touch him after seeing the fate of the police. "We'll get your brother the help he needs, but right now you're only in the way! He has a serious gunshot wound to the head and we need to get him to the hospital!"

"B-But!"

"Alfred!" England's hand was suddenly on his wrist and pulling him away from the stretcher. "We need to go to the hospital." England's green eyes were full of worry as he placed a hand on America's cheek. "Listen to me. You can't help him here. If you stay, you're going to hurt someone." At this, America relented and took a few steps back. They felt like miles. Canada's hand dangled over the edge of the stretcher and America wanted to reach out and hold it so badly it made something behind his ribs ache. His brother needed know he was there and that he was sorry for forgetting about him again and ignoring his instincts. America wanted to tell him how much he meant to him even if they fought a lot and Canada sucked at playing catch. None of that mattered, because it was all so stupid compared to how America felt now. Hopeless. Useless. Helpless. Scared.

The paramedics continued to work on Canada while rolling him towards the ambulance. There was so much blood staining the white stretcher and it kept spreading. It wasn't until they placed some gauze over the bullet hole that America felt his strength leave him and he allowed England to move him away.

America saw the glasses, already marked off as evidence, and resisted the urge to pick them up. His fingers itched for them. It was the only part of Canada left besides all the blood. The thought made America's stomach lurch unpleasantly and his legs became water. He collapsed against England's side, his eyes burning painfully and his throat refusing to work properly. Japan was on his other side in an instant, saying something America couldn't process.

All he saw were Canada's eyes staring at him without sight and the twisted glasses.

Well, thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! Next time, time jump to two years later. Canada wakes from a coma, but he's changed and America's determined to make things right.