Hey there, Fang here.

New fic I've been a little nervous to publish...hope you like.

"Iggy, wait up!"

Arthur looked over his shoulder to see the American rushing towards him at full throttle. He braced himself for a glomp, but Alfred only slowed down next to him to walk beside his brother.

"Well, hello to you too, chap." Arthur replied. "Rousing meeting, wouldn't you say?"

Alfred looked sheepish as they walked.

"S-Sorry…"

Arthur shook his head, and then winced as the motion jarred his headache where he bashed it into the wall. He had just come out of the restroom where he had been hastily bandaging the shallow cut next to his right eye. With the war in full thrust, holding Alfred and Ivan back was becoming more and more difficult with every meeting. Alfred didn't know where he was at those moments, and would lash out at anything and anything that stood in his way. Arthur was honestly surprised that he had escaped this one with nothing but a small laceration, a large bruise on the side of his chin and a mound on his head.

Obviously, Alfred was thinking similarly along that line, and was staring intently at the darkening bruise forming.

"That looks a bit serious, Artie…"

"It's fine. Better than I've had before."

Alfred immediately stopped and faced Iggy, reaching out for his chin to look at the mark. Arthur slapped his hand away.

"Git, I said I'm fine!"

"I want to see for myself!"

"There's no need for-"

America's grip on his shoulder suddenly stiffened, and he stared at one of the side corridors. Arthur followed his gaze to see the last person he would ever want to meet alone.

Russia stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded about his chest. That disgusting sneer/smile adorned his face as always, but his eyes weren't directed towards Alfred. He was staring at Arthur.

Those deep violet eyes…they seemed to bore through Arthur's skull and into the very core of his being. Arthur forced himself not to move a muscle, but to stare back with all he could, emerald eyes blazing in challenge. He was not to be intimidated.

Alfred noticed with a bit of worry who Russia was turning his attentions on. Never leaving his eyes from Ivan, he wrapped his hand around Arthur's upper arm. Russia's focus shifted a centimeter upward, and his grin widened as he gazed at his archenemy, as if in acceptance of the challenge. Alfred tightened his grip, ignoring the glazing red fire in his gut threatening to explode.

"Arthur…C'mon."

When Arthur did not seem to listen, as he was still glaring at the Russian, Alfred tugged on his arm and led his brother out of Ivan's sight.

Only when they reached outside did Alfred finally let go of his pent-up breath and of Arthur's arm. Both countries slumped onto the bench next to the door. Alfred leaned his head in his hands, while Arthur massaged his tingling arm. Alfred peeked though his fingers, and then let out a sigh and sat back, settling his hands behind his head.

"I don't think I've seen him that calm before in a while…" Arthur commented, rubbing the back of his head. Alfred was clenching his fists.

"Did you see the way he was looking at y- us?" Alfred asked, uncharacteristically quiet. Arthur glanced up.

"With the same utter hatred he gives you and everyone else? I saw it…so?"

"No, no, it wasn't just that…" Alfred was at a loss for words. How could he explain the…disturbing hunger that was in his eyes? As if he wanted…no…but for what purpose? It scared Alfred just thinking about it.

"Nothing. I imagined it."

Arthur looked at him quizzically, but grimaced when his hand hit the swelling lump on his head. Alfred swallowed, guilt rising up in him again.

"I never took a look at what I did- how you were injured."

Arthur shook his head, which in hindsight, was not the best of idea with a head injury, and Alfred took Iggy's moment of disorientation to grab his shoulder and turn him without much force to face him. He grasped the Brit's chin and turned Arthur's face up to see the large discolored bruise on his jaw. It was darker than a usual bruise, almost a black-purple in color. Alfred could distinctly see the imprint where his hand had made contact with Arthur's face. He swallowed.

Arthur finally came out of his haze and batted Alfred's hand away from his face again. But the look on Alfred's face gave him cause to pause, then sigh in resignation. Gratefully, Alfred moved Iggy's head so that the cut was facing him. He carefully tore the heedlessly placed bandage from Iggy's face, noting the wince of pain from the Brit. The gash was as long as his pinky finger, and had begun to drip blood again into Artie's eye. Alfred hastily took out the small first aid kit from his jacket. He then began to clean the incision with care, making sure not to hut his brother anymore than he had to.

Eventually though, the wound was properly taken care of. Alfred replaced his supplies and then stood up.

"Don't move from here, kay?" he looked at Arthur, trying to act stern and failing miserably.

Arthur simply sat back, gingerly touching his bruise. "I'm not going anywhere, git."

Alfred took the moment to run inside for some ice packs for Arthur's head and bruise. Arthur sighed, finally away from Alfred's ministrations, and rubbed his head tenderly again.

Alfred was being overprotective again, he thought, remembering Alfred's drawing him closer with the incident with Russia. And the fact that his brother was feeling guilty about hurting him during the meeting wasn't doing wonders either. Alfred's constant paranoia was only growing, and Arthur, unfortunately, was becoming his recipient.

His head was throbbing again. Arthur wondered randomly where Alfred was with those ice packs. He had been gone long enough…

Suddenly, a hand flashed behind him grabbed him over his mouth. Arthur stiffened and tired to yell out, but the hand clamped tighter. Another snaked to the back of his neck in a death-like grip. Arthur struggled to pull away violently, but the hands held him fast.

"Amerika will not be pleased…" he had a whisper in his ear. A sharp pain erupted in the back of his neck, and all he remembered was that that voice was tinged with Russian.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

I've wanted to do something like this for a while as well. Actually, I wrote about 8 pages worth at school, and just never really got the courage to publish until now!

This is just some unspecified war in the near future. There is barely any historical parts in this, except for references to the Cold War.

It's going to be quite long, as I understand. More likely longer than "Young Again" will ever be.

Thank you, and please review! I'm very anxious about this one...

-Fang