Love me

He pressed his hand against the glass and openly ogled the naked body inside. This copy had the same muscular frame, buoyant blond locks, and grey blue eyes as Allison. She was nearly a perfect replica, and he absolutely hated her. Did they think he was a fool? Did they truly think they could replace America and he wouldn't know the difference? Poppycock, England would not allow this idiocy to continue. Without thinking twice about it, he ripped the wires and tubes apart keeping this thing alive. Much to his satisfaction, the thing started to writhe in pain and shriek in obvious agony. Or perhaps, the electricity pulsing through his body gave him the needed push to feel again, and damn, electricity hurt. His heart tried to keep up with the sudden battery charge, but he collapsed, breathing heavily. If he wasn't a freak of nature, the voltage would have killed him.

Arthur tensed as he heard big heavy and most definitely Russian footsteps coming his way. No, he couldn't get caught, especially here of all places. England had barely escaped being thrown into an insane asylum. The court had deliberated for days, and the only reason he hadn't been convicted was because he had cut a deal with Canada at the last second. So long as he kept his mouth shut about the less than pleasant conditions of some of the facilities in the outskirts, they wouldn't lock him in a cell. Why should he care about them anyway? America had cared, and she ended up dead because of it. Those people probably wouldn't even remember her name in another year or so. Canada was trying hard to erase every trace of her. He looked at the struggling body in the glass tube and sighed. Unfortunately, Russia had other ideas.

Then again, there was no England, America, Russia, or even Canada anymore, just the world. The world had no other name. The only reason he called himself England these days was to keep himself sane and separate. Yes, only part of the whole now, but still himself, he had to remember that.

But more importantly, he had to get up. And he tried, so very hard to lift himself up, and yet, for so long, he had done nothing but sit in a chair signing paper work that he didn't really have the strength to get up as if the electricity hadn't effected him at all. Of course, he'd survive, but it would take him a while to recover.

The door opened. England couldn't bare to see and closed his eyes. For so long, he had managed to stay separate and just like that, his freedom was gone. There was - there was laughter. He didn't move. The clod prodded him with his big fat foot. When he didn't react, Russia kicked him. Instinctively, England clutched his stomach and gasped for breath.

" I see you found your little present. Too bad, Arthur has ruined surprise. Kiku worked so hard to make it for you," Russia said, crouching down to meet his eyes, all the better to mock him in his debilitated state. England glared. They knew perfectly well that this was the last thing he wanted.

"And what is it for exactly? No one spends time, effort and money to make one old man feel better," he said. This was most definitely a trap. Allison had proven popular with the masses, but most commissioners were glad to have her gone, not that they'd ever admit it now that she was dead. Russia chuckled and punched him in the arm.

"Lighten up, Arthur, you don't look a day past twenty five."

England rolled his eyes, tell that to his ailing body. He wouldn't have minded Ivan so much if he didn't try so hard to be friendly. Arthur was well aware Ivan was pissed.

"I don't feel twenty five."

Russia patted his back. England winced. His large hand stung.

"That is because Ivan kicked you in stomach. Try to pay attention."

England grit his teeth. Yes because he hadn't noticed at all. If only he wasn't paralyzed in a warm numbing embrace, Russia looming over him was a lot more unsettling knowing that he was powerless to stop him should he try anything else.

"You haven't answered my question," England said, once again, attempting to push himself off the ground. Russia didn't give him the option of proceeding. He put his foot on England's back and pressed down. Again, England felt a sharp pain spread throughout his body and any air left in his lungs was rudely pushed out.

"She was made to protect you, and you almost killed her," Russia said. His attention focused on the suffering figure in the glass. The longer he stared and heard her pitiful cries, the more pressure Russia put on his spine. England sucked in a breath. He didn't see this ending well for him. Miraculously, Russia did not finish him off and instead gave him one final kick in the stomach.

"That wasn't such a nice thing for you to do."

England nodded. It was best not to give him an incentive to try that again. Russia paid him no mind and walked toward the glass tube holding the copy.

"I guess I'll just keep living by myself, then. No harm no foul," England said, managing to sit upright. Perhaps, it wasn't dead yet, but thanks to the onslaught of electricity, her nervous system was fried and unlikely to work without extensive repairs.

"Oh no, it is much too late for sabotage. She was nearly ready. Allison is alive," Russia said, breaking the glass- idiot. The thing had been thrashing and yelling nonsensically for a solid thirty minutes, simply releasing her from the constant supply of electrical energy wouldn't be enough.

"She is not-"

"Arthur?"

England gulped, even the voice was perfect. He shook his head. No, it couldn't be. America was dead. He had to remember that.

"Alive," he finished, sounding doubtful even to his own ears. She sat there staring at him, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything. The thing was cold, wet, and shivering but otherwise showed no signs of permanent damage from the electricity. She did not try to get up, and he wondered if perhaps, she couldn't. Thankfully, England didn't have to find out for himself. Russia helped her up. When he was sure she could stand on her own, he let her go. The thing didn't move and never took its eyes off England. Russia didn't even spare him a glance and walked right passed him.

"I'll let you two get acquainted," he said.

"I don't want-" England started to say as he scrambled to get up and failed miserably. She wasted no time in helping him up. He pushed her aside and made a mad dash to the door. Russia did not rush his exit. No, he waited for the opportune moment and slapped England's forehead with his giant palm so he ricocheted backwards. He fell hard and groaned, even more so when she caught up to him and embraced him tightly. The thing didn't know its own strength yet.

"She runs on love. So, here is chance for you to kill her if you want. Somehow, I don't think you will," Russia said, blocking the exit with his massive body. He was just waiting for him to make a move. If only he could, the most he could do was flop around like a fish.

"Blast it all, why put me through this?" he shouted. This wasn't fair. The pain wasn't supposed to last. Grieve for a while, accept that she ceased existing, then, nothing, wasn't that the point of letting go? He was supposed to forget and move on. And, they brought this creature into this sorry place to break his defenses and let the memories run free.

"Because we need you alive," Russia said as if that made any sense. He could protect himself quite readily. They all could. He still considered the decision to put Russia in charge of security rubbish.

"I am alive so take your naked Barbie and decommission her," he said, attempting to forcibly remove himself from her embrace. She frowned at him, reminding him of a little girl holding a squirming house cat. She didn't know why he wanted to break free.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Arthur rethought his strategy. While he was recovering from the electrical damage, he couldn't overpower the stupid robot. So, his best bet was to intimidate it. He glared, making the sternest face he could manage.

"Let me go."

This did the trick wonderfully. She helped him up and dusted him off, taking two steps back when she realized that he was angry at her. She didn't take her eyes off of him though and smiled shyly. He didn't try to move. If he stumbled even slightly, she might be liable to latch onto him again. Russia still waited, and in his current state, England knew it was a stupid idea to even attempt to get past him by force. So, he turned to the stark naked girl, careful to keeps his eyes from looking below her neck now that she was conscious. ( He didn't want to lose his reputation as a gentleman after all.) And he did what Russia wanted him to do all along, he talked to her.

"I want to go home. Get this stupid oaf out of my way."

Russia wasn't expecting the punch to the gut he received in response, of that much England was certain. He couldn't help but smirk when Russia went down without a fight. Either he had gone soft or they should really reconsider how strong they make these things. But, his satisfaction was short lived as the robot lifted him up and carried him bridal style into the awaiting hallway. Did he mention she was naked? Because that started to matter much more to him now that they were heading outside. England did not want explain himself to the general public.

"Put some clothes on," he insisted. She stopped, concentrating on the wall.

"Clothes? But, my outer layer of skin already protects me from all of the elements. I don't need clothes."

Only the idea of facing Russia in his current condition stopped him from disowning her there and then. This was ridiculous. They hadn't put much effort into making her human or the least bit sensible.

"Listen here, if you are going to live with me, you are going to wear clothes. This is not optional. Understood?"

Her mouth formed an o before resuming its plastic smile. The expression wasn't reassuring in the slightest. Arthur hadn't really noticed how artificial their facial movements were. He had never been this close to a robot before.

"I see I need to activate human functions. Exiting safe mode in three two one,"

England realized his mistake. The machine had protected its mind from the electricity by shutting down everything but the bear essentials. He certainly didn't want a robot with feelings, considering his temperament, associating with it wouldn't lead anywhere good. No, he didn't want a robot at all.

"Hold on, just put on clothes, there isn't a need to-"

"Arthur, I'm . . . naked. Give me two seconds, do not, I repeat, do not move."

She set him down and ran back into the laboratory from whence she came. When she returned, the robot was wearing Russia's coat.

"Yeah, I don't think he's going to let you have that, try again," England said, tiredly. Ivan had more than enough reasons to hate him now. She shook her head. He scowled. So, apparently, the humanity function served to make the robot even more useless and disobedient. He purposely let the back of his head hit the wall. Yes, this was definitely an American model.

"He let me have it," she explained quickly, still defensive despite her claims.

"And why would he do that?" She just made him keel over two seconds ago for heaven's sake. She shrugged.

"He loves me. I don't know why. I just can sense it, but you-y-you hate me," she said, starting to tremble. He rolled his eyes. Yes, making a robot that fed off affection, brilliant, he didn't even want to think about how much money they wasted watching them repeatedly explode. Whatever, he might not like what they did, but he supposed at this point it did have some sort of feelings - fake or otherwise. He wasn't cruel.

So, he hugged her and patted her back. She clung to him like her life depended on it, and well, it did. He closed his eyes. Remembering things he didn't want to. And even if under the synthetic flesh there was a myriad of robot parts, she still felt warm, and old feelings returned that he wished would stay buried, stupid robot girl, stupid police state, stupid life. He released a shaky breath and ignored it. He was England after all. He was good at ignoring feelings.

"There, there, it's not your fault," he whispered. She nodded. He heard Russia get up before he saw him. The metallic infrastructure of the building tended to amplify sounds. England didn't budge because he already knew that Russia had accomplished what he wanted. They had him under watch.

Russia walked by them, turning around briefly, to acknowledge him with a nod. Reminding him that like it or not, he was part of the system.

"I will see you at the meeting in two days."

He said nothing else. Judging by the way she compulsively tightened her grip on him, Russia didn't have the best of intentions.

"Very well."

England watched him go. He didn't want to risk bumping into him again on his way out. So, he waited. The girl tapped his shoulder. He sighed. Right, she wasn't going away.

"Yes?"

"If I- If I listen, will you stop hating me? You didn't like that before so-"

"What information did they give you exactly?"

And the snappish tone made her back away, the same exact way as before, such simple programming, he wondered why they bothered making him keep her. She wasn't going to distract him if that's what they were thinking. Sure, this development had caught him off guard, and he'd nearly electrocuted himself out of commission, but that didn't mean anything. She was nothing more than a trite contraption. And, no memories they supplied her with were going to convince him otherwise.

"Nothing. They didn't . . . um- I have a list of things I shouldn't do because you don't like them,"

"Like what?"

"You hate people singing along to a song, because most of the time, they aren't very good."

England frowned, feeling oddly disappointed. Japan hadn't kept the original personality intact. He supposed he had no right to complain when he didn't want the thing in the first place, or else Japan might have asked for his input beforehand.

"Sing whatever you want I don't care." Besides, America's voice had actually been rather pleasant, well, when she was actively trying anyway. However, his indifference utterly distressed the robot.

"But-"

"Look, don't follow some silly instruction manual they implanted in your head, especially if you're going to keep looking like that. You're only going to upset me."

And, again, the poor robot seemed confounded. After all, the metallic creatures from what he'd seen had a very narrow mind set. He'd likely just had her disregard a good chunk of her programming.

"So, you don't want me to listen," she said, obviously trying to simplify his orders into something she could follow. Bah, England decided that steering her in the right direction wouldn't work. He'd have to elaborate a little.

"I'll make it simple. Unless I say otherwise, I don't care what you do," he said. Giving her vague but clear parameters, hopefully, this would be enough of a distinction to keep her from following that absurd list.

"Erm, sure, I can do that." she said. He had a feeling that she would end up following her programming anyway. Automatically returning to their previous settings was a fail safe that kept robots from falling into an infinite loop.

"What exactly is your purpose?" he asked.

She smiled, the change of topic welcome.

"Protection and companionship."

So, she was quite literally given to him to keep him from falling into a depression and/or getting assassinated, joy.

"Well, I don't need either of those things so why don't you go catch up to Ivan since he loves you so much." he said, shooing her away. She continued to follow him, going so far as to take hold of his hand when he started walking faster.

"But I need to stay with you," she said earnestly. England wanted to bang his head against the wall. He was trying to reason with a robot designed to follow him everywhere like a devoted puppy and attack anyone that posed a threat to his person. Okay, he might want to try something other than simple aversion to get his way. And, this stray thought brought him to a logical conclusion. Who was the one nation that made it a point to avoid him as much as possible? America (well other than Scotland) so, he only had to say the word, and she'd naturally wander off on her own. He'd only have to slink away unnoticed from there.

"I want you to act like America. No more of this naive robot nonsense," he said. The results were immediate. She fell to her knees and clutched her head.

"Overriding basic functions, uploading American persona," she said, faltering repeatedly as if in actual pain. England hadn't expected it to be quite so dramatic. She continued to thrash repeatedly until she quieted, breathing heavily. When she finally did look up at him, she was grinning cockily.

"Arthur, you've been very very bad," she said, standing up and taking him by the arm. She pulled him with reckless abandon, and he struggled not to be dragged around like a teddy bear.

"Slow down."

She rolled her eyes. She had actually rolled her eyes at him. Great, this was even worse than the shy robot he'd been presented with originally. Not only did she basically have the same programming as before, she was much more hands on and creative about it.

"But it's taking forever to get out of here. I know a shortcut."

"No, you are going to get us lost."

She bopped him on the head.

"I know what I'm doing Arthur. Trust me."

Ow. He rubbed his head, watching the endless metallic corridors blur together as she ran with abandon with little regard as to how he was supposed to keep up with her. So, he let himself get dragged along, until she finally skidded to a halt.

"See, door, outside, simple," she said, again picking him up bridal style. Unlike before, she seemed quite aware of the connotations it invoked, judging by her smug grin.

"Oh sorry, this better?" Well, it was either this, riding piggyback, or being carried like a sack of potatoes so . . .

"Whatever."

"You're cranky."

"Yes, I suggest you get used to it." he said dryly.

"Hmm, but I need you happy or I'm going to run out of juice soon." She said, idly surveying the surrounding area.

The outside consisted of metallic stairs and walkways leading to buildings of varying quality according to which level and location one was in. London didn't have a trace of greenery left. All the air was artificially produced now. If one wanted the illusion of greenery, one lived in Scotland or Wales, they had invested quite a bit of money for that added luxury. He was fine with the change though. London had never been all that green in the first place. Man made creations had taken over the city long ago. It was only logical the rest of England would eventually follow suit.

"Too bad, I suppose you won't be able to fulfill your mission."

"That sucks," she said, kicking the rail. The rail snapped off and fell. There was a clang, but no one appeared to have been hit by it, thankfully.

"Oops," she said, backing away from the edge. He put a hand on her shoulder. Allison looked back at him distractedly.

"Yeah?"

"Forget protecting me, wouldn't you rather explore and have some fun on your own?" he asked. Allison sighed.

"No offense, but this place doesn't look terribly interesting."

England was sure that his face looked like he was about to implode. He took a deep breath. A few more minutes and she'd run away into the unknown. Maybe, even pick up where America left off, or not, she didn't seem . . . quite right, honestly.

"I'm sure you'd fine a way to entertain yourself."

She smirked, and, he was understandably uneasy. For the first time in a while, he was in quite a vulnerable position, and she was heavily aware of it. England decided he was never going near electrical wiring again. The electricity zapped away way too much of his strength, and in this political climate, a personification displaying weakness could get a country annexed into one of the larger nation states.

"Nah, we're going home," she said cheerfully.

"Excuse me? I never said I was going to take you in," he said, crossing his arms in protest.

"But, I'm protecting you. And, weren't you all about quartering soldiers? Besides, I'm a freaking robot that runs on an intangible power source. I don't even know how that's possible. Do not even pretend that I'm an inconvenience."

"Things have changed. You're a relic that they forced upon me," he hissed. She raised an eyebrow.

"Not really, you told me to act like America. So, I am."

"Then stop." She dropped him. Ow, he hadn't exactly recovered from his previous thrashing so the impact stung a lot more than it should. Allison offered him a hand. He took it.

"Come on, you don't mean that."

" This was a mistake. You're absolutely irritating this way."

And, all too similar this way too. Arthur should have known that it would trigger some fairly bitter sweet remembrances previously muddled, broken, and buried. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Arthur, I don't ever ever want to leave. Don't tell me that doesn't make you feel better."

He did, and dammit, he was loathe to admit it, particularly when he realized that he'd started crying. She rubbed his back and that only made him sob harder. England was like a broken faucet, and he had no idea how to stop the waterworks.

"Do you want to go home?"

Arthur nodded, still incoherent and clinging to her shirt. Allison picked him up and took him home. She easily forced the door open, breaking the lock in the process. He didn't complain. The lock wasn't very high tech. To most criminals, it would only be a minor inconvenience. She put him on the bed and tucked him in, pecking him on the forehead like a child. He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed. He was somewhere else entirely, somewhere much less comforting. She seemed to realize that, judging by her frown. Part of him expected her to go away and do whatever robots did in their spare time, but she slid under the covers with him. This snapped him out of his melancholy fairly quickly.

"Get out of my bed."

She didn't back down. In fact, her stare was unnerving and eerily focused.

"You had a bad dream, close your eyes."

Taken back, England had trouble processing that. He was quite awake, even if he was reliving unpleasant memories.

"No, I'm-"

She put a finger on his lips and tried again.

"I didn't leave. I didn't die. I'm fine." she insisted.

He stiffened. She was trying to replace something that shouldn't be replaced.

" I don't love you. I'll let you starve before I believe for a second that you are her."

She started crying. Her tears had an unpleasant sterilized smell. Her arms, no better than a boa constrictor coiling around him, squeezed his torso, nearly cracking his ribs in the process. Luckily, her initial hurt ebbed and she let him go. Allison stood, refusing to look at him. She staggered noticeably on her way out. He turned over, just as she slammed the door behind her.

When England found her shut off in the morning, he had mixed feelings. Maybe, he wouldn't have cared if she hadn't been holding the damn stuffed rabbit he'd left on the table. He should have thrown out the stupid toy ages ago, but it had been one of the few things America had left behind that tangibly connected them, and blast it, he didn't want to throw that connection away.

The fact that she had reached for the toy before she lost consciousness, pricked his usually collected exterior. He made a mad dash for the couch and sat down. The first thing he thought to do was hold her hand. Nothing happened, and he berated himself for thinking something would. Clearly, he needed to do a little more than that. And yet, he still wasn't really all that comfortable with the idea of anything other than holding hands, but he also couldn't really live with the idea of a non functioning robot sitting on his couch for the rest of eternity. So, he got up, closed the blinds, sat back down, and pecked her on the cheek. For a minute, it looked like that hadn't work either. Then, she blinked, shivering slightly.

"I shut down. Didn't I?"

He nodded. Instead of getting up and jumping around like she was running on fresh batteries, she turned her back on him still holding the rabbit. Apparently, shutting down was a more traumatic experience than expected. He figured robots were usually programmed to deal with the occasionally accidental shut down as a minor inconvenience and move on. Then again, Japan obviously hadn't set out to build a typical robot with this model. England considered leaving her be, but there was the matter of her shutting down again shortly.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around visibly confused.

"I don't hate you."

This was enough for her to forgo the rabbit and latch onto him. He patted her back, attempting to stay positive and hold his temper. Her desperation didn't cease, despite holding him as close as possible without hurting him. In order to calm her down, he hummed the opera that he'd originally sang to America. Admittedly, by now, it was quite old and forgotten, instead of new and undiscovered, but it did the trick. She relaxed and loosened her grip. England sighed, glad that he could breathe again. He tried stroking her hair to soothe her further, but there was no need. She had already fallen asleep on him. There was only one problem. She wasn't holding herself up, and the weight of her body had him understandably gasping for air. She woke up, instantly getting off of him. After a period of awkward silence, she spoke.

"Sorry . . . about a lot of things, you're hurt, and I can't make it better."

Still catching his breath, he nodded.

"I don't need you to," he said.

She looked down at her clasped hands. Allison seemed genuinely sad, and he was starting to feel guilty. So far, he hadn't exactly made life easy for her, no wonder he was so alone these days.

"Then, what do you need me for?"

And instead of answering, he put the rabbit back on the table, facing away from them. England made no effort to look at her. She took his hand. He didn't fight it. When he didn't fight it, she took it a step farther and pulled him closer. England didn't protest. If he didn't think, he couldn't let the emotions run free again. Then, she whispered a very tempting proposition in his hear.

"Do you want to forget?"

Arthur nodded, and they both entered the bedroom. He was late for the meeting that morning, but it was hardly the worse consequence of the night. He could only hope staying silent would help him avoid the worst of it.