Heroes
"I'm the hero!" This came from the excitable America, or Amelia E. Jones. She had crystal blue eyes, short auburn hair with two star baretts, fair skin, broad shoulders, England, or Alice Kirkland, had fair skin, forest green eyes, two long blond pigtails, rectangular red glasses, and an irritated expression on her face. "You bloody twit...You're giving me a headache, arse..." Another, taller blond with delicately flirtatious features joined the conversation. "Oui, Amerique. Go and leave Angleterre to me." France, or Marrianne Bonnefoy, said. Amelia wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought, she could see this red flag as if France was actually waving. "Nah, don't think so. C'mon, Iggy." With that the American removed her crush from danger. "What do you think your doing, you git!?" America looked at the brit in confusion. "Uh, savin' you. Duh." Instead of graditude, she was getting hostility. "Just get the bloody hell away from me!" And with that, Alice stormed away. Amelia's face dropped and she walked away, her mental self-abuse starting again. "You're such an idiot! You should've just left it alone! You don't even deserve the title Hero!" By now, her eyes had become a dull clurean and full of unshed tears. As she bullied herself, she wasn't watching where she was going and bumped into someone. The poor soul that the former had bowled over was none other than France. Just as Marrianne was about to comment on the American's rudeness, she noticed the latter's expression. The Parisian's expression suddenly showed concern and worry. "Amerique!? What is zhe matter!?" The brunett just sat there for a couple of seconds before running off. As America ran rivers of diamond-like tears rushed down her face in torrents. Her normally wide, clurean eyes were squeased shut to escape the pain and despair.
-Le Time Skip-
As Amelia finally reached home she fumbled with the multi-lock, mahogany door to her two floor, rustic looking home. As she burst in the house, she ran to the couch and flopped onto it, sobbing her poor heart out. If you looked at her now, you'd notice that she seemed underweight and immensely pale. Her usually bright eyes seemed dull, and her hair limp. Her only problem wasn't the hostility from England. No, her problems were more profound than that. America's economy was terrible and unemployment rates were going up. Russia, or Anya Braginskaya, was always trying to mess with her head. She was always faced with the guilt of forgetting her poor sister Canada, or Madeline Williams. She felt helpless. She hated seeing so many people die, but the hate wouldn't stop and her current boss kept the war with Afganistan going. Because of this, she couldn't feel anymore. Physically she looked happy and carefree, but it was just an act. She always felt numb. She needed to feel something, anything. This is why she cuts. She slides her sharp, glinting pocket knife across her pale, thin arm, each stroke relieving the numbness. And as she feels the sting of the blade, she cries. Amelia E. Jones, the strong, stubborn, caring nation of America was crying tears of relief because of the change from numbness to pain. Unbeknownst to her, however, she was being watched. Spain, Prussia, and France had all been watching. France had called the two others because she wanted to insure her safety when she confronted America. It wasn't her own safety that worried the Parisian anymore, it was that of the distraught American. Spain, or Carmen Fernandez Carriedo, and Prussia, or Marie Beilschmitd, were both looking on in stunned silence. Marrianne suddenly grabbed her phone and dialed a certain brit's number. "Get over to Amerique's now!" With that she said hung up and turned around. As she did so, a small but powerful fist connected with her left cheek. Alice looked absolutely pissed. "You GI-" she was cut off as she was pushed hastily towards the window. When she looked through said window she was stunned, horrified, and filled with grief, all at the same time. As she looked on, her eyes welled up with tears. Without warning, she jumped through and enveloped Amelia in a tear-stained hug. The American's arms were limp at her sides, the knife falling to the floor with a metallic clang. "Amelia..." When Alice broke the hug, she shook her head. "Now no more hurting yourself. If you had only told me-" Amelia was yelling now. " You wouldn't have done anything, dammit! You would have turned me away! You would have fucking ignored me! You wouldn't have even care-" The only reason she stopped ranting was that a pair of soft, tea-tinted lips were suddenly pressed against her own chapped ones. There were no tongues in motion. The kiss was long, loving and gentle. As the need for air made its existance known, they separated and Alice smiled. "I love you, Amelia. And I will always care. Even if I'm in a terrible, HORRIBLE mood, I will listen to you and help in any way I can. Do you know why? It's because... I'm your hero." With that, America completely broke down. She sobbed her heart and soul into her 'Hero's' shoulder. After a while, Amelia looked up into the other's eyes and smiled. "Thank you."
A/N Hi. I hope you like this one. Oh my gosh, you should hear my accent today. I sound really Canadian! Well, I'd love it if you reviewed, eh. I own nothing except the story line. Maple out.