I am sooooo sorry guys! I accidentally deleted the stories! I am soooo sorry. I am posting all 18 chapters in one go to make it up. here's the first one!

This was my first Hetalia fic, this chapter, and I think it is the best one out of the drabbles. Please read and give me your input!

Even Through War, There is Hope

Another war, more of his people dead. That was the only thing he could think of while walking on the battlefield. The once green plain was now torn and bloodied. He had seen wars; he knew the terrors that wars brought. However, every war that he experienced seemed to be much worse than the last. His usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by one of melancholy.

The personification of America; America himself walked across the battlefield wishing that people would just live carefree. He couldn't understand how the older nations could remain sane after seeing history repeat itself over and over again. Fighting war after war. Maybe he will gain that as he gets older? As he walked across that devastated field he saw the guns lying right next to their owners. He wanted to weep for the ones lost, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to break down now. He needed to find the one symbol that would bring hope to the war devastated land. Of course, the more he saw; the blood, the lifeless bodies, the more he saw the more he was afraid he would break down and weep for his people.

He almost gave up; but a blue, white and red fabric caught his eye just a little ways away. He walked to it and reached down to pick it up. As he expected; the American flag. The colors had dulled slightly, but other than that it was as if nothing had happened. The colors of red, white and blue were still there, seemingly untainted. Gently picking it up, he stood. He found a gun lying next to him and picked it up also. Placing the flag across the gun; hiding the gun, he slowly made his way back to camp. The whole way back his eyes continued to be downcast, and he could feel the tears beginning to fall.

These people had died for him, but they didn't know he was the nation. They didn't know the pain that he went through. Going back to his tent, he stuck the gun in the ground and draped the flag over it. He recalled the first fight that he had fought. It was for his freedom from England's rule. He could only think this was the same hurt as that time. The civil war came to mind, and that too hurt him, but it hurt him on a different a level. He supposed that if the events of what happened were his feelings, then the civil war was his uncertainty, his indecisiveness. The first and second world war he didn't want to fight in. He remained neutral… or tried to. Both wars, however, he was eventually brought into it.

He thought about those wars; the allies and the enemies. He also could picture the world conference room; England and France would be bickering, he'd be laughing for no reason and eating hamburgers and drinking Dr. Pepper, Japan would be agreeing with whatever he said, China would be bribing the other countries to no avail and Russia would be his typical self. He began to wonder what they would say if they saw him broken down. He could not bring himself to face his friends at this point in time. They had won the war for their land, and they remained free; but there were many more deaths than there needed to be.

"That banner yet wave. Over the land of the free and the home of the brave." He quoted.

Brave souls had died for him, and they had won. Thinking about the war, and that line he thought of something. The flags had been burned down in every town that the enemy had taken. But this town, this place, had fought. This place was hope. He knew this town had a community flag pole, and he knew right where it was. Taking the flag he draped it on the gun again. If this war taught him anything… or reinforced anything rather… it was that until the final shot was fired, always have a way to defend yourself. Even if you never want to use it. He stood there for one more minute giving his respects before walking out of his tent and heading straight to the closest flag pole. When he got there, he gently put the flag on the pole and began to bring it up. The sun began shining as soon as he started. He felt it was saying that this wonderful and beautiful country would survive. He stopped the flag at half-mast in respect, and gave a salute. It was only then that he allowed the tears to flow freely. This war had been terrible, much like any war, but this flag and the rising sun clearly stated that America is still standing, and will survive. It was a beacon of hope. They may have lost many citizens, but many more will take their place. He knew that. These brave men will not have died in vain. Each name will be remembered for years to come.

He never noticed another figure come up behind him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was too busy looking at this symbol of hope, too busy giving these soldiers what they deserved. As one last memorial he put the gun in the ground and draped his cloak over it. With that, he turned and walked away. Barely noticing that his brother was there providing silent comfort.

For once in his longish life, he was glad that his 'invisible' brother was there. He also promised himself, that from this point on, he would look forward, not down at the bloodstained ground. With the help of his brother's silent support, he would make this just a painful memory. Yes, he was definitely glad that he had survived.

Though he would never say it, and he always claimed to be the hero, at this moment his brother was his hero.

Owari

I was not depressed when I wrote this, but the picture just would not stop bugging me. So writing it it turned out depressing... I made myself sad writing this...

Which is quite a feat.

This is NOT meant to be Yaoi, so please don't take it as such. It's just nice brotherly love/support. Thanks!