I don't own Hetalia. That's about all I can say for this.

England.

England.

ENGLAND!

Please…you have to listen to me, you have to, please, England, England, Arthur.

Please…

I don't understand you sometimes. All of you. You all say you want me keeping myself the hell out of your business, but the second there's trouble, you scream, Why won't you help us?

Remember: Whenever one side prays to a god, the other side might just be doing the same.

It hurts, don't you know? I am strong, but I am not perfect. None of you understand this. Not even Canada, Matthew, Mattie, Matt, he's supposed to know me best, but he doesn't get it. I can't always be the hero.

I want to. You expect me to. I can't.

I watched you from when we started, Matt. We grew together, and stopped. Like we were waiting. And then they came. And then they wanted to take us. Is it my fault that they did? Did you ever hate me for that?

Because I learned to forget you. I'm sorry, Matt. Do you hate me too?

England…You always want me to be the perfect gentleman or something. You always want. Please…you have to understand, I can't take this much longer. I'm the hero. I was the hero. I won't be the hero.

England, is this what it feels like to fall? To have my own people no longer care whether I live or die? To longer have people I thought to be my friends, my family, care?

Did it hurt like this when you fell?

I'm sorry, Arthur, England. I should have tried harder. That's what you want to hear, right? I'm sorry.

Is this what it feels like to die? Oh god. I should have asked China, he would know, he's been here ages. Why? Why me?

Why am I asking that? Shouldn't I be happy that it's me, and not someone else? But right now, right now, I'm so scared, I don't want to go, England, please, protect me one last time, please…Is this what it feels like?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry sorry sorry sorrysorrysorry ENGLAND, please! I don't want to go. I don't, I don't, but I have to. Please, England, don't forget me, your son-brother-friend-love, please, don't forget me.

England, Arthur, would I feel better if I knew I were dying to protect you or Matt or anyone else?

Arthur, I'm sorry I wasn't better. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer. Forgive me. I love you. I want those to be the last words out of my mouth. Matt…everyone, Arthur, goodbye.

The shot rang out, too fast for England to dodge, and he braced himself for silver-grey death.

And then America was falling. England heard a scream. "ALFRED!" Oh, that had been his own voice. And he had barely caught America. "Alfred no, oh god, why, Alfred?"

"Sorry, Arthur…" A hand, still clean, reached up to brush away the tears. "I love you."

"Alfred, oh god, oh god, why did you do that? Why!?" There was no response. England hadn't expected one. A drop of water landed on America's glasses, fell off, ran down his cheek, past the broken smile. "Why…"

Death, he found, was different. He had struck a deal. Thank god Vegas taught me blackjack. Watching over his friends while they slept was interesting. He had run into Rome once or twice.

Then one day, he felt himself fading. So soon?

England stood next to Canada, holding the small boy. "So, you'll turn over the job of the land to him so young?"

The younger male gazed across the expanse. "…It's what he would have wanted."

"New America…"

"He needs a better name than that, England."

"Where did his come from?"

Canada sighed. The nations-who-thought-they-were-older always discounted history before they came. "An outsider. One of Italy's. Amerigo Vespucci."

"Oh." England looked at the child who was America, America-not. The not-America beamed up at him. "Any ideas?"

"Nutaroyok."

"What's that mean?"

"New. In one of our languages, from...before." Canada patted the small boy's head. "It's good to meet you, Nutaroyok A. Jones. My name is Matthew Williams."

The boy smiled. "Kanata." Canada laughed.

"A?" England looked at the country quizzically.

"Alfred. New Alfred Jones." Canada looked back at the boy. "That's Arthur Kirkland. We're your big brothers."

"Frere."

"He's multilingual?" England was hugging the boy a little tighter.

"America was diverse." Canada sat and held his arms out, and England acquiesced. "I am the country of Canada, Nutaroyok. That's England. You're America."

"Kanata. Igirsu. Meiguoren."

England knelt next to the sitting Canada. "What were the last two?"

"Japanese, I think, and Chinese."

"Will he be okay?"

"Iggy!" The boy hugged a shocked England around the waist, and Canada, dark circles under his eyes, finally learning of the burdens his brother carried, smiled for real for the first time in ages.

"Yeah. I think he'll be just fine."

Oh god, this one just wouldn't leave me alone. *head+desk* I need more sleep. And a break. HURRY UP SPRING BREAK DANGIT. I also need to write a pairing that's not England/America. Seriously. Chinese, Native Canadian, French, Japanese used.