"Arthur!" America called out running through the grass, toward a tree in the middle of the meadow. England looked up from his book to see young America running toward him holding something in his arms. "Arthur!"

"Calm down, Alfred," England said with a smile on his face. He closed the book and set it down as America stopped right in front of him. "What have you got there?"

"My new friend!" America lifted the little fluffy ball and revealed a small light brown rabbit. It looked around quickly, its big brown eyes wide and curious. "Meet Bunny!"

England smiled and chuckled. "Every time I open a book, you come back with a new animal friend. You remember Buffy?"

"My buffalo?" America said, tilting his head.

"Yes," England responded as he took the bunny out of America's arms. He stroked its soft fur, seeing that the creature wasn't afraid of anything. He smiled. "You aren't afraid of anything, just like Alfred." He winked at America, who giggled. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Yeah!" America cheered. He plopped himself beside England and reached for the basket. The little boy pulled out an apple and took a giant bite.

England munched on a scone, watching America eat two apples, four scones, and drank very sugary tea. England smiled and sipped at his tea. He saw the bunny hop over into America's lap and fall asleep. He smirked at the cuteness.

England woke up, opened his eyes slowly. "Why did I dream that?" He sat up slowly, clutching the sheets in his hands. He looked toward the window with slightly open curtains, letting a small stream of light into the room. His eyes followed the light to see it focusing on a framed photo on his bookshelf...a photo of him standing beside America. America had his arm wrapped around him and kissing his cheek.

"Today is going to be a rough day." He glanced at his cell phone and saw the date on it. "Yep...a quite long day."

He emerged from bed to prepare for the day and his trip out. After a few small scones and a couple cups of his favorite tea, he grabbed a bag of his things and a bag of books and walked out the door. The sun was bright, the weather was warm with a small cool breeze blowing around him. He took in a deep breath and walked down the sidewalk, taking in the scenery around him. The leaves were still green being this close to autumn, the wind was cooler and it actually made England glad he brought his jacket.

On the train, he had a several hour long trip so he pulled out a book he hadn't read in a long time and opened it. He saw the name on the front page... 'Alfred F. Kirkland'. He bit his lip, remembering that when America was younger he loved to read just as much as he does.

England walked into the study at his home in the New World to see America laying on the floor, a book open and a stack of books beside him. The adolescent seemed lost in the book that he didn't notice the clatter of china dishes as England set them down on the table. "Enjoying that book?"

America blinked and looked up. A smile grew on his face. He was growing up; the chubbiness he had as a child were vanishing, showing a lean, handsome face. His hair was mussed up as normal and a little kink was growing straight out from the top of his hair. "Yeah, I'm reading Julius Ceaser."

"Ah, such a nice play." England sat down in his usual arm chair. "I brought snacks, do you want some?"

"Yeah!" America jumped up in one swift movement and stood up. It took England a while to get over the fact he was shorter than America. It still shocks him to realize how tall and strong this boy was. It was just the other day that he found America tackling another bison like he did so many years ago when he was just a toddler. America sat down beside him and took a small plate, piling on the little snacks. England learned to make many snacks since the boy ate like he was starving for years.

"You're brother is coming over in a few days."

America smiled. "Awesome! I haven't seen Matthew in years!"

"He's coming with the frog though."

"So...I know that you and Papa Francis don't get along well."

"I wish you wouldn't call him that."

America shrugged and the subject was dropped.

England couldn't read now, he was bombarded with memories with America now and that was all he would focus on. Every once in a while it was like this. Of course whenever America's birthday would roll around he'd spend the night before remembering what happened that one year. Now it was bothering him again.

"Arthur!" America cried out, "I'm not child, nor your little brother!" He wasn't aiming his rifle like England was. "I just want my freedom damnit!"

England shook from anger and the rain. They both were soaked and covered with mud. He was cursing at himself for letting his feelings get in the way with keeping this boy under control. Now here they were fighting in the rain as they had been fighting for years before. He lifted his head and glared at the young man before him. America surely had grown more. His body was lean and strong, his face lost all that baby fat and revealed beautiful facial features. That was when England discovered...he had fallen in love with him.

"You can't...! I won't allow you! You can't leave me!" He charged to attack and stabbed his rifle at him. America blocked with his own rifle and it knocked the gun out of America's hand. England fell to his knees and started sobbing in anger. "Why! Why are you going to leave me! Don't leave me! Please!"

America walked up to him slowly and knelt down beside him. England lifted his face and met the blue eyes of the young man he had come to love. America cupped his chin and lifted his face, drawing closer to him. "Arthur, I want you to see me as an equal, not as an underling. I'm sorry." He closed the distance and their lips met softly. America kissed him like he was fragile, soft and light. He pulled away and England thought he saw tears brimming America's eyes. "I'm sorry..."

England bit his lip and looked out the window of the train. That was one of the most painful days of his life. He always hated that day. After that final battle and he gave America his freedom, he didn't see him for years. It always pained him whenever he would hear of a success that America made upon the world. He always wanted for America to run up to him and boast about what he did, no matter how old the man was. He never saw any signs of affection from America until around World War 2. England looked at his arm, seeing a long faded scar that everybody knew where it came from.

England ducked when another bomb hit pretty close to his house. He stood up and rushed to turn off all the lights. The blitz came much earlier than they were supposed to. Another bomb struck and this time, it hit his house. Debris flew toward him and he dodged most of it. He felt a sudden pain in his arm and he looked down, seeing a shard of glass deep in his skin. He bit his lip, trying to resist the urge to scream. He held his arm close to him as he walked to a more secure spot of his home now that it was in shambles.

As he was trying to gather up the strength to remove the shard of glass, he heard footsteps come in through the opening the bomb made. England tensed and went really quite, afraid that a German had invaded his home.

"Arthur? Are you in here?"

England opened his eyes at that voice. "A-Alfred?"

He saw a flashlight appear and the one holding that flashlight was America himself. America looked around the room and England heard a gasp. "Arthur! Thank God I found you!" He rushed over to England and knelt down, pulling on a handle of the large flashlight, turning it into a lantern. "Oh God..."

England looked at him through tears that had started up again. "Wh-what, you bl-bloody wanker?"

"You're hurt..." America's face was hard to read, the only thing that England could tell in the dim light was the pure shock in those blue eyes.

"Well," England half-chuckled, half-sobbed, "That's what happens when a bomb hits your house and a shard of glass is deep in your arm."

America looked down at the cradled arm and his face paled. "We need to get that out." He swung his backpack off of his shoulders and he rummaged through it. He pulled out a white first-aid box. He opened it and looked at England. "I have to take that out right now."

"Bloody hell no!" England almost shouted. Another bomb struck close and everything shook. America hovered over him protectively as dust fell from above them. "You won't touch me!"

"I have to or else you'll loose that arm!" America met his eyes and for the first time in many decades, England saw concern in those baby blues. England felt his chest tighten, his heart skipping a painful beat. "Let me do this. I know what I'm doing." England bit his lip and nodded. America gently grabbed his wrist and elbow, pulling the arm out slowly. England winced in pain. "This is going to hurt."

"I bloody well know that!" England hissed.

America hesitantly grabbed the glass. "Ready?" England closed his eyes, biting his lip and nodded. "I wouldn't bite your lip." England let go. "Okay, just brace yourself." He gripped the glass tightly and pulled it straight out. England let out a shout of pain. He couldn't stop the tears that were flowing already. He hissed when he felt cold liquid running down his arm and the wound. He opened his eyes and saw America pouring water out of his canteen onto the wound. "It needs to be cleaned." He took out the gauze and began to wrap his arm up.

England studied him with curious eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

America only smiled. "I can't stand to see you getting hurt like this." He taped the bandage down and slowly guided the arm back where England was cradling it. America met his eyes and England felt his heart skip a beat again. Those blue eyes, still as intense as they were the night America had won his independence. England had to look away, feeling more tears attack him. Why was he so weak whenever America was pulled into the picture? He hated this feeling!

"Arthur?" America muttered.

England turned his head and looked at him. "What?" he snapped.

America cupped his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. "I'm sorry, for the way I've ignored you for so long. You don't know how hard it's been for me. Every time I'd hear something that happened, I wanted to run to you and hold you no matter what had happened. I wanted to show you that I still cared for you. But I knew that I wasn't ready yet."

"Why did you come today then? Of all the times to come to me, why did you come when I was at my weakest?" England couldn't tear his gaze away from the man before him.

"Because I love you." America confessed. He leaned in and kissed England's forehead, then kissed the tears away from his face. "I love you, Arthur. I've loved you for a very long time." Their lips met and England felt his heart become whole once again after so many years.

England opened his eyes and looked around the scenery. Almost every yard had an American flag upon it. Some people had it on their garages, hanging from their porches, or even had a flag pole. This day brought so many people together. Every year many people remembered this day in their own way. So did he...

England ran through the chaos. People were calling him crazy for running toward the incident. "Alfred!" he yelled. Never before had he run so hard in his whole life. He should've felt pain but he didn't. All he could think of was America. He slid to a halt when he saw the man limping toward him, clutching his head in a foolish attempt to stop the bleeding from a deep gash. "Alfred..."

"Why...why would they do this?" His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed. England rushed ahead and caught him just before hitting the ground and making his wounds worse. He looked up to see the flames and collapsing building. They were far enough away that they wouldn't be hurt, but it was horrifying to see. He couldn't look away as the two buildings fell to the ground, leaving an empty hole in the sky in the middle of the city.

Several hours later, England heard stirring and he looked to see America waking up. He had patched up America's wounds fairly well, making sure nothing would get infected. But he hated seeing all those bandages on his body. He had to strip his shirt off to reach the wounds on his chest, his head was bandaged up, a light red spot was starting to form where the large gash was.

"A-Arthur..."

"Welcome back, Alfred." England sat beside America and grabbed his hand tightly. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"After the planes hit...what happened?"

England froze. How was he going to tell him this? How was he supposed to tell him that three of his most important buildings were destroyed. England sighed and let the words out slowly. He couldn't watch America's face as he said it. He stayed still. "I'm sorry, Alfred." He didn't look at him, but England knew that America was crying. Little choked sobs escaped from the younger man. England opened his eyes and looked, seeing America clutching the sheet with one hand and holding his face with the other. His shoulders shook from sobs that wracked his body.

"N-no...this can't be!" he sobbed, "It isn't true!"

England took America into his arms and held him tightly. "Shh, it'll be okay. You're strong, you'll get through this." He was worried though. Even though America was strong, he was still young. He never dealt with what England had in all his years. He was afraid that America would lose his trust in anybody.

England lifted America's face to meet his eyes. "I'm right here for you. I'll always be here for you."

England emerged from the train station and looked around. He knew where he was. It was only several blocks before his destination. He set his rolling bag on the ground and began walking. Every business had a flag hanging from them, people passed by had a different feel to them than any other day. He could feel the strength from these people. This day means a lot to them. It means a lot to America. He sighed as he walked. As much as every year he tried to keep a cheerful aura, this day always made him sad.

He knew he was getting close. Closer to the scene...closer to America. He walked slower, wanting to take in the sight. The trees were green, the wind blowing through them gently. It was very peaceful despite the circumstances. He froze when he saw him. America was standing alone, his arms crossed. He was wearing a simple black suit. England could read his stance to be strong but sad. He put his bags up against a bench and he slowly walked over. In front of America, he could see a cross made out of two iron pieces from the building itself standing there tall and proud. England stopped in his tracks, looking at the simple beauty of the memorial.

He smiled kindly and approached him again. America didn't make note of his arrival until England intertwined his fingers with his lover's. America jumped and little and looked down at him. England noticed the sad look in his eyes just before he threw on a smile that covered the sadness. "Hey you made it!"

England smiled sweetly. "You don't have to force a smile on your face today."

America smiled a bit wider. "I'm not forcing the smile, Arthur." He squeezed his hand gently. "I'm really happy that you came here today." He leaned down and pressed his lips against England's forehead softly.

England smiled and looked back at the memorial. "Ten years ago..."

America sighed, "Yeah..." He adjusted his glasses, but England saw he was attempting to hide the tears that were forming.

"Alfred," England whispered as he turned to face America. His blue eyes opened and the tears brimmed lightly. England's hand cupped his cheek softly and America leaned into his touch. "It's okay, you don't have to act all brave and tough all the time."

His blue eyes brightened up as he buried his face into England's shoulder. The Britain wrapped his arms around the younger man tightly, holding him close. "I'm always here for you, Alfred. Always." Ten years ago...America was at the bottom. Ten years ago...he had made this promise to stay with him. And today, he was keeping that promise. He looked up at the cross again, watching the America flag fly behind it. It was a picture of strength that America always had within himself.

Here...is my 9/11 tribute. I don't mention that it's 9/11, but there are many hints and I sure hope that you caught them. Sorry for the flashbacks, I had to explain England's involvement in the very end here. A little sweet USUK throughout the whole thing. I had fun writing this, though I nearly cried at the end.

I blame my good friend :iconSukio-chan: for getting me hooked onto USUK. Prussia! You have corrupted me!

I was in fifth grade when it happened. But my school kept the incident quiet so I didn't know it had happened until after I got home from school around 3:30 and my dad was watching the news. Who would've thought that we are 10 years later from this day and we are still over in those countries. Sorry, I'm majorly against a lot the government does.

Adios! Enjoy!