MY BABIES! I'M BACK WITH A NEW CHAPTER! Sadly, I haven't been able to update in a very long time.. Sorry-Sorry_SORRY. I'M SORRY FOR THE YEAR LONG WAIT!

Ignoring the Frenchman's calls, Arthur bolted down the hall. Various images of the American nation continued to flash through his mind. He fought his tears as he entered an old, abandoned meeting room, that seemed to be smaller in comparison with their usual meeting room. He slid down the wall and buried his face in his folded arms that rested on top of knees. He finally let the tears flow as he sobbed into the sleeves of his green uniform. Flashbacks continued to make his way into his mind.

"Big Bruhver Engwand.."

England stopped walking and looked down at the small boy, who started to fiddle his thumbs nervously.

"You can just call me Arthur, lad." He smiled softly as a light blush spread across the latter's face.

"O-Oh..umm..." The colony seemed to pause as if he was contemplating his next action.

"Arfur...do you fink..I can..hold your hand?" he finally blurted out hesitantly, he immediately regretted the question with a thicker blush. "I-I mean-"

England chuckled with amusement, "Of course you can, Alfred." He reached his hand out to the blushing child. America's sky blue eyes lit up as if he had received a sack of gold coins and eagerly reached for England's outstretched hand. Once their hands were joined, a warm smile made its way onto England's face. America smiled brightly back. They continued their walk home.

His heart lurched at the memory of the young country's colonial times. He choked back a sob, My little America...is dead..America.. He knew he could never get colonial America back. That fact made it hurt less than the more recent memories of the American.

"Iggy! Hey, Iggy!"

More tears started to stream from his eyes. His heart continued to throb painfully in his chest.

"Yo, Iggs!"

"Don't call me that, git!"

Why did he try so hard to push the nation away? If only he'd known how precious America still was to him. With the image of the American in his mind, he wiped his nose with his sleeve, though tears still streaked his face.

This is wrong. America couldn't be dead. He can't be dead. It takes more than that to kill a nation. Especially one as strong as him.

England wiped his face and stood up. His expression turned into a determined one. He wouldn't believe anything without seeing for himself.

With that thought in mind, he left the room.

"Angleterre!" France called. It was the room that England left just two minutes ago. He could smell it. Rain. Tea. British Laundry Detergent. No cologne. France sniffed, crossing the room and investigating the exact spot on the floor where England had sat.

Staring at it, as if it could give him clues to his location, he was unaware of the shadowy hand reaching out from behind him.

Sorry again for the short chapter...I'll have the last chapter up this week! USuk implied..next chapter!