a/n: English version of my USUK fanfiction! I'm pretty proud of this one, still I need a translation of the second chapter, yay! thanks to my dear friend Maya ;_; she's awesome enough to have strenght to translate it for me! Next and last one is longer, and I think it'll need M, not T XD"

August '40

You were simply sitting there, giving him a hollow look. It felt like screaming, ripping something into shreds, it was building up inside you, some indescribable pain. You did nothing – but that's only because there was nothing to be done. If you could... yes, if you could, you'd certainly take an action. There is no thing you hate more than idleness. Every quiet moan of his rose in your ears to the size of a blast, every bead of sweat were liters of innocent blood being spilled. Maybe you lacked knowledge, compared to the others, but you were no stupid, nor callous. You knew the meaning of suffering. Which is why you squeezed your fists on the sheets even harder, whenever he'd turn on the side, leaning his head, blond hair scattered on the pillow. It made you think of cut out, ravaged grain. Such a sin, wasting good seed for bread.

And he clenched his eyes, just like all those harmless civilians struck by German bombs. At times he lifted his eyelids, but you knew he can see nothing. It was no more than his pain, fear, shock. You could almost see the reflection of bombers in his eyes. It's like you saw something similar or at least you've heard about it. After all, on Black Thursday you were laying devoured by fever for a long time. Then you were still coughing blood for at least a month. But this memory is vague. Still, you'd never forget Ukraine's agony, how you could not help her. You've seen her sunken cheeks, swollen eyes, stiff hands. She looked as if she was crying all night long. You wished you could do something, anything. But there were restrictions – obviously, Ivan was no problem, but there was no way to oppose chief's orders.

This was a whole different situation, though. Ukraine was never as close with you as he was. To see his delicate face, now skewed in pain, this was too much, even for a hero.

A hero unable to save anyone.

Arthur was moaning silently and after a while you chose to cover your ears in a great despair. There are certain things no one can endure. Laying motionless for most of the night, you held his hot hand, unnaturally heated by fever. You whispered all the time, not entirely sure what you were saying. You paid no mind that somebody might overhear you by the doors. There was no time or need for silly games.

Every now and then you'd kiss those trembling fingers, promising them, Arthur and yourself that it will all be better. As for now, thing were only getting worse. Hot, summer air was blown in through the window. Usually you'd be happy about this beautiful, August night. But today, your world was covered in snow and shatter by the storms. Nothing was the way it's supposed to be. Arthur was always boasting how mighty and powerful he is. One fifth of the world, that's how much land he had claimed. Why won't he rise up now, won't bring a flush to his face, won't hiss on you to stop embarrassing him? Why will he not flinch in that peculiar motion that always made you laugh? Oh, how much would you give to see his lower lip trembling in futile attempts of stopping the tears. You'd much rather hear how dumb and ungrateful you are than listen to these faint groans.

So you tried to cut them out.

You cannot go, you still need to show what you're made of. You need to kick some German ass, so don't pretend you can't do this. You must try to make me drink your tea. You have to send me an unsigned gift for Christmas, with those wished scribbled in the handwriting that no one else has. You ought to make me a pudding when there's time for it, once we've won the war.
No, not once you've won. Once we've won. I'm fighting with you. I know we're send few people, that you think we've left you. You know, if I only could, I'd send whoever there is to help you. They do want to help. My people. But all is so limited, have you ever had this feeling, as if you're heart was telling you one thing, but you just had to do the opposite? Now, you have to came around, stand up, you've got no frigging right to leave us all. We were supposed to help our Francis, remember? He got fooled like an utter idiot, he couldn't even come for you. You have no right to let me suffer for you like this, I don't want it to hurt this much. You're so unfair.

You talked into his hand, kneeling by the bed. Your legs were almost completely numb, staying still for so many hours. Only when Arthur mumbled something that resembled the word "water", you'd spring up to get some. Wishing to be as much of help for him as possible. In just a few hours you'd have to fly back, one night is not enough, not enough, for fuck's sake! You wouldn't even look at his face anymore, unable to. The night outside was bright, still flared up by the undying fire. You wished you could take him with you, but in his place you'd probably kill those who'd have dared to separate you from your people, your lands, everything that was yours and Americans'. Which is why you never proposed such thing, it wasn't allowed anyway.

Barely conscious, you noticed the sun rising and you shuddered. You cannot go. Not now. But your second pilot was already knocking, asking for readiness in a shy voice. Your answer was somewhat pathetic and typical, your eyes locked on sickly flushed Arthur's cheeks. You asked for five minutes delay and heard heavy footsteps fading behind you. Resting on the bed, you heard it creak painfully, tormented with you weigh. You leaned over Arthur, learning by heart every single detail of his face. It could be a long while before you see each other again, but you hoped that when this happens, he won't look so pale anymore. You really liked him better in his drunken frenzy then when his only sign of life were painful moans.

Sun was shining somewhat braver and lightened all the dark corners of the room. The only thing that remained in the shadow was Arthur's face – you blocked the light with your own body. This lit up room, full of flickering glimmers was terrifying. You never wished for the world to look like this. It was unconceivable that Arthur would become another fallen fighter, one of the many. That his face would forever remain frozen in a single grimace. That he would just disappear. You frowned and leaned forward, more urgently. Lips met for just a bit longer, you felt the softness of his skin in every inch of your body, you kissed every single crack caused by the dry air. You kissed both cheeks, grazed his eyelids and brows with your lips. Bending forward, you whispered inaudible words into his ear.

You sprang up fast, somewhat frightened. If you were to stay here just a minute longer, you would never be able to leave. Arthur's face was drowning in the soft light, but this image you remembered from moments ago was already buried too deeply in your memory. You clenched your lips and turned around swiftly, staring into the sun. It was blinding, but you challenged it. You challenged the whole world. You walked to the door, black dots flickering before your eyes. Last time you glanced at Arthur, you saw an outline of his body, covered in dark twinkling stains. You felt you heart beat way too strongly and pushed on the door quickly, walking outside, taking a breath of fresh air unstained with sickness and pain. Leaning on the wall, you felt stingy wetness welling up in your eyes. Something inside you was broken and you were more than certain that if it wasn't for these impatient steps of your pilot, you wouldn't hesitate from bursting into tears. But for now, you decide to suppress your cry and smiled broadly, embracing the man with your arm.

'This'll be hell of a flight, ya not tired?'

The man gave you a slightly puzzled look and shrugged. He pointed on the door with a wave of his head, asking quietly: ''s he a friend?'

You froze for a bit, following his eyes. The door was now slightly open, queen's nurse has just walked in. She leaned over Arthur and changed his sheet. You turned away, coming back to reality. You nodded your head vigorously, leading the pilot out. Goggles immediately landed upon your nose and both of you ran into the plane. Once the machine was ready to fly and you assured the man twice about your ability to steer, you took a last glance on devastated London.

'Ya know what I say, bro? I shoudn' be the only one to help. Y'all should." You said with a wide smile on your face, but the pilot noticed how fake your usually confident and honest face is. So he nodded his head hesitantly.

Flying out, you hoped for the soon return and that you could do something more than just squeeze Arthur's hand through the night. That you'd be able to do more than sending a couple of man secretly.

You had no idea that you wouldn't come back until the end of next year. That you'd manage to win the war. However it was a different battle, the one that went on since 1776 will not be settled for another decades. Everyone will shake hands, you'll share the same table with Arthur, among the fake friendships, among all those nations desperately trying not to scream out each others' faults in their faces. In the atmosphere often much denser then today. But you knew that just like you've won every other battle, you're gonna win this one as well.

Or your name was not Alfred F. Jones.

You didn't allow yourself to look anywhere else then straight forward. You didn't want to see Great Britain getting smaller and smaller, drowning in the fog. Your head was heavy with repeating thoughts that everything will be alright, that you'll come back, hoping that Arthur knows this and will pull through.

In the end, he had to greet you with his hot coffee and pudding, with his eyes fleeing your sight and his cheeks flushed. No other picture existed for you and that's it.