"England?"
"Yes, America?"
"Why do humans die?"
England choked on his tea, spluttering as he placed the cup back into its saucer with a soft clink. The younger nation was staring at him with those blue eyes of his, a pensive look on his face. Normally, England could simply diffuse America's questions by distracting him with food or the promise of taking him to visit Canada, but this time felt different. The child was clearly expecting an answer.
"Is this...about Davie?" England asked reluctantly as he carefully gauged America's expression.
"Huh?" America asked, tilting his head curiously, "What about him?"
"Ah-never mind," England blurted as he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. He turned toward the window of America's home, staring out into the late afternoon. The wind blew the fields of tall grass about, creating soft waves in the sea of green. A small songbird landed on the windowsill, chirping away excitedly.
"England?" America pried. England turned back toward him, for once finding himself completely at a loss for words. The child sitting across the table from him suddenly seemed much older, asking things like this. What happened to that little boy England would rock to sleep in his arms, who would call him "Engwand" and tug on the hem of his pants to get his attention?
"W-well, America...I'm afraid that's what humans do," he said slowly, watching America wrinkle his nose as he frowned at him.
"What?" he blurted.
"Humans grow old, America," England explained quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "And, eventually, they...well, they die," he sighed.
"But why?" America pressed, scooting in his seat so he was leaning on his arms on his kitchen table.
"Elbows off the table," England warned.
"Hmph," America grumbled as he returned his hands to his lap, glaring at England briefly, "But I still don't get it," he lamented.
"I'm afraid no one does, America," England said kindly, managing a weak smile, "That's why we need to enjoy each and every day that we have,"
"We don't die, though," America stated uncertainly, looking at England with a sudden sense of urgency, "Right? Right?!"
England rose and hurriedly crossed to the other side of the table, catching America's quivering hands in his and kneeling in front of his chair. America had gone stark white, looking down at England fearfully.
"Calm down, Alfred, it's all right," England soothed as he gently tightened his grip on America's hands.
"You didn't answer me," America pointed out as he stubbornly set his jaw.
England smiled sadly as he reached up and smoothed America's hair. The child relaxed a little, though his eyes radiated anxiety.
"We are nations, America," he explained slowly as he carefully selected his words, "And we live for a very, very long time. Much longer than any human will,"
"But...we do die, though," America squeaked. England's heart broke as America's eyes grew misty. He briefly considered lying to him, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Not about this.
"After a very long time...yes," England admitted with a sigh as he placed his hands on America's shoulders, "We all will, someday. But that is a very long time from now," he emphasized as America's lower lip trembled. He bit down on it to keep it in check.
"You are still very young-you have a long life ahead of you," England offered, hoping to soothe him. Unfortunately, the effect was completely opposite of what he'd anticipated.
"NO!" America cried as he lunged out of his seat and threw his arms around England's neck. England clumsily caught him, falling onto his rear as America sobbed into his shoulder.
"Alfred, what's the matter?" England asked worriedly as he tightly hugged him. He received a broken sob and sniffle in response.
"All right, now, hush..." England soothed as he rubbed the child's back, "It's all right, Alfred,"
"No it's not!" America cried hysterically as he clutched onto England even more tightly.
"America, I can't breathe," England gasped, sighing in relief as the child loosened his grip a fraction, "Thank you," he said as he gently rubbed the back of America's neck, "Now what's all of this about, hm?"
"Y-you're not young," America spluttered. England bristled at that, but let it go in favor of bringing America some comfort.
"What do you mean?" England asked quietly as America dissolved into sobs again. England sighed, pulling the child to his chest in a hug.
"America, I am very healthy," he pressed, "And I don't intend on dying any time soon,"
"B-but you will, though," America pointed out as he pushed off of England's chest to look into his face. America's face was streaked with tears, puffy eyes welling over as England reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.
"Someday, yes," England admitted, "But I promise you I will be alive for a very, very long time,"
"...promise?" America asked quietly.
"Promise," England answered with a smile. America smiled back, sniffling.
" 'kay," America conceded as England ruffled his hair playfully.
"All right," England sighed, "Let's get you some dinner, yes?"
"Yes!" America chirped enthusiastically as he bounded toward the cabinets containing pots and pans. England chuckled as he got to his feet and looked out the window again. The little bird was gone, no doubt fluttering somewhere on the breeze.
England smiled sadly.
"England..." America said as his voice quivered. England swiftly closed the distance between them and caught the other nation as he collapsed, a gloved hand clutching his chest. England guided him onto the icy ground, looking down into America's blue eyes. He could never manage to hide the emotion in them, not from England, and glint from within them was from fear.
"Heh...I guess...guess I'm next," America laughed weakly, grimacing and tightly clutching at his chest, "I had a feeling...after C-Canada..." he trailed off with a wince.
"You don't have to speak," England advised as he put his hand over America's and began smoothing his hair. America's eyes slipped closed at the gesture as he shakily breathed through his nose, breath puffing into the frigid air in delicate white wisps.
"H-hey...you know, Arthur..." America croaked as he cracked his eyes open and managed a weak smile, "I've...I've been kind of a jerk, and...yeah,"
"Don't worry about it," England reassured him, his heart warming at being called by his human name. God, how long had it been since he had been called Arthur?
"Naw, really, I-" America cut off abruptly with a wince, "I mean it. You...I mean..."
"It's all right, Alfred," England said as he fought against the water welling up in his eyes, "It's all right,"
America's eyes lit up for an instant as he smiled. He raised his arm and tentatively placed his hand on the side of England's face, looking up at him in silence. England took his hand from America's hair and held onto it, smiling as Alfred's warmth seeped into his skin.
England's chest constricted painfully as America's breathing became haggard, each gulp of air rattling his chest as he struggled. England clutched tightly onto America's hands, realizing with a sickening jolt how they were growing cold.
"A-Arthur-" America blurted as he gasped for breath, bucking and clutching onto England's coat in panic, "I can't breathe-" he spluttered as his eyes widened in fear.
"It's almost over, Alfred," England soothed as tears rolled down his face and he cupped America's face in his trembling hands, "It's all right. It's going to be all right,"
But it wasn't. England could barely keep himself from screaming as America struggled, lips turning blue and skin steadily growing colder. His little colony, his Alfred, lying at the very end of the world with naught but the frigid air and soft click of the World Clock to guide him to his death.
England trembled as America frantically clutched at his jacket, mouthing something wordlessly as a whimper passed his purple lips. He drew Alfred to his chest, holding him tightly as he felt him beginning to fade.
"It's all right, Alfred," he sobbed into America's snow-flecked hair, "It's all right-go ahead. I'll be right behind you,"
A soft sighing sound rushed past his ears as the limp body in his arms vanished, swallowed by the iciness of the world.
England broke down and wept, burying his face in his hands and bringing his elbows to his knees. He wasn't sure how long he was there, only that France and Russia were helping him up, their hands on his shoulders as they murmured empty words of comfort. Only, nothing comforted him.
Nothing.
Antarctica watched in sadness as America departed, cringing at the pang of loss she felt. She could feel England's pain, just as she felt France's so acutely when Canada returned to the edge of the world. The pain grew worse with each passing nation, their essences ascending and becoming one with the turning of the World Clock. Its delicately spun gears, cogwheels and sheets of grinding ice, spun and clicked and slowed as each nation returned to it.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
She glanced at Arctic, whose face was stern. This was hard on them all, but it was only bound to get worse once she and Arctic were the only ones left.
Still, the two of them were destined to help with the passing of the nations, to bring the world to a close in the kindest way possible. They had sung to the nations to comfort them-Italy had been particularly happy about them singing hymns in his language, a smile on his pale lips as he had disappeared. She and Arctic had serenaded each and every one of them as they passed on, save for America. Somehow, it seemed more appropriate to give him and England reverent silence in which to say good-bye.
She looked up as a chill wind rushed past them, anxiously surveying the small crowd of huddled nations before her. It was only a matter of time before they all departed, but...who was next?
The World Clock ticked quietly.
Tick...
...tick...
...tick...
...silence.
Notes: I don't know where this came from, but thanks for reading!