Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

"Is your brother okay?" one of the worried faces in the crowd asked.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Alfred waved them away, wishing the gathered throng would leave. And hoping he was telling the truth. And being kind of amused by her assumption of their relationship. He hunched over and patted the unconscious man's face again. "Hey, hey..." He sure was taking this revelation hard.

After another tense moment, he sagged in relief when dark blue eyes cracked open behind their lenses. "Ah..."

Alfred gave him a friendly smile. "Are you okay?"

"You're...still here," he mumbled.

"Of course! I wouldn't abandon you after you passed out. I'm-"

"A hero?" he finished weakly.

"Damn straight." Alfred grasped his new-found twin's hand and tugged him upright, casually brushing him off. "Oh, your hair is much nicer than mine." He saw nothing at all wrong with petting a stranger's hair. "Soft. What shampoo do you use? Oh! You know, we haven't even introduced ourselves." He stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you, new brother. I'm Alfred F. Jones."

"Uh..." The other blond gave him a confused look, then glanced around the diner. He seemed to peer at the passing waiter. Then he turned back. "Um. M-Matthew."

"Matthew!" Alfred didn't bother waiting for a last name. "Hey, you should come meet my parents some time! Our parents? Oh man, they're gonna be surprised!"

"Oh yeah?" Matthew still looked like he was ready to keel over at any second.

"Of course! Hey, when's your birthday?"

"In...in two days."

Alfred snorted. "My birthday isn't in two days. It's after that. Whoever raised you got that wrong."

"Let me guess." Matthew swallowed. "Fourth of July?"

"Yeah! How'd you know? It's pretty cool. Like the fireworks are just for me..." After the war, Canada had adopted its defeated neighbor's independence day holiday as a remembrance. "Oh! Two days? On Canada Day? That's actually awesome. We each get our own celebration. What are the odds?"

"Yeah..." Matthew shook his head. "Um. Will you still be here? I need to...do something. Call someone."

"Sure! I don't need to be anywhere. I actually came here for a date, a blind date, but it got canceled, so I don't have any plans. I'll order another burger!"

"Of course..." He ran a hand through his nicer hair. "I'll be right back." He turned to leave, tugging a phone out, then pivoted back. "Can I take a picture? Of us?"

"You bet!" Alfred shuffled up against him, posing with a big cheesy grin and thumb's up. Picture taken, Matthew turned again and ran off. "Strange kid, my brother. Handsome devil, though." Alfred returned to his own table and plopped down, beckoning his waiter back. If he'd paid more attention, he would have noticed that his waiter and his new brother shared the same name.

England set his empty teacup back onto its saucer with a porcelain clatter, then dropped onto his bed, sighing. He hated this time of year. With a passion. He'd been doing better lately, really. None of them—least of all America—would want anyone wasting their lives moping over them. England and the other survivors were managing, rebuilding and moving on. But this time of year...he couldn't help but remember everything he had lost. As if summoned, memories flooded back into his unwilling brain.

England watched him finish zipping up his flight suit, smile tugging at his lips. How could a baggy one-piece suit look so good? "Almost ready to go?"

"Yup!" America flashed a thumb's up. "Come give me a kiss."

England obliged, hurrying forward and locking their mouths together. Worry gnawed at him, but it was a familiar old worry. They had been through this a thousand times, in several wars. Nobody could match America in the skies.

"You're worrying," America accused, poking his lover's nose.

"I will if I want, prat."

"Old man," the taller nation replied with affection.

"You're sure about this?" England's smile fell away.

As did America's, his expression darkening. "I'm sure. Japan was my friend. I can't just..."

"I know. He was mine, too." England kissed him again. "Be careful."

"Of course!" America gave another winning smile, then turned to climb into his jet.

And that was it. The last time they had ever seen each other. England growled in annoyance at his brain for forcing him to continuously relive it. Why couldn't he have at least said "I love you"? They'd said it a million times before, but not then.

He damn near fell off the bed when the ringing phone caused him to jump. "Oh, what?" he muttered. The other nations rarely bothered him during those weeks unless it was an emergency. "Bloody phone, bloody caller, leave me the hell alone already..." He snatched the phone up, and managed to make his greeting polite.

"England!"

"Oh, hello, Canada." He dropped back onto the bed. "You sound distraught." There was an understatement; the other nation sounded frantic. England filed that call under 'emergency' and set his moping aside.

"You really need to come here soon."

Oh, that. England ran a hand down his face. "Look...I'm sorry I never make it to your birthday parties. I just don't know..."

"That's not what I mean. Though it would be nice. But, um. I met someone. A human. An interesting human."

"Congratulations?"

"He was...he...I took a picture of us. I'll send it. Are you sitting down?"

England frowned. "Yeah. I'm sitting." Well this was mysterious. "Send your picture, I guess." He rummaged through his room until he located his cell phone and turned it on, then returned to the bed. Canada's message was already waiting for him. He opened it.

He stared.

He blinked.

He stared some more.

"Canada!" he said sharply into the other phone, murder in his voice and tears standing in his eyes. "I don't know what shit you're trying to pull, but it's not funny. You-"

"It's not a joke." Canada's voice was soft, yet still firm. "That's the human I met today. At least, he seemed pretty certain that he's human. He said his name's Alfred. And his parents were refugees during the war, and he's decided I'm his long-lost twin."

After a long, silent moment, England decided to believe him. Many things Canada was, but randomly malicious wasn't one of them. He licked his lips, staring down at the photo, heart hurting. "It's a...coincidence?"

"No!" He could hear the tears in the younger nation's voice. And Canada was not a good enough actor to pull that off believably. "I don't see how it could be! He...he sounds like him. Dammit, he acts like him! All in the short time we talked he mentioned heroes and burgers and other random stuff he babbled on about, and his birthday's on...the same day, and..."

"What does this mean?" England voice came out a hoarse rasp. What was happening? His mind whirled but came up empty of explanations. A human turning up, identical in looks and personality?

"I don't know!" Canada wailed.

"Okay, calm down." The Briton took a deep breath to calm down, himself. "Where are you? It's a big country, you know."

"I'm staying at my Vancouver house."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can. Hang onto this... Alfred?" He shook his head, lips pursed. "Who'd you tell him you were? Assuming he's a human. You didn't tell him about us?"

"No. I could barely get a word in edge-wise. I said my name is Matthew."

"Matthew?"

"I saw it on a name tag. Come up with a name for yourself."

England was not in the mood for inventing human names. "Lancelot."

"What? No!"

"Fine. Arthur."

"At least that's a normal name. Okay, I'll tell him my friend Arthur wants to meet him. Will you be okay?"

"I'll try and compose myself when I meet him. I'll give you a call when my flight gets in."

They said their goodbyes and hung up, and England curled up on his bed with the picture of 'Alfred' and cried.

Oh my god, Canada thought, he even eats the same. The familiar sight of the blond, cowlicked young man attacking his burger like it was the last one on earth brought a lump to his throat. "H-hey." Calm down, calm down. He already probably thinks I'm weird.

The boy who called himself Alfred waved, shoving the last of his food into his mouth. "Hey," he said once said mouth was free. "Talk to your friend?"

"Yes!" Canada sat across from him. It felt like just yesterday, the last time they had done this. But twenty some years wasn't a very long time. "He's looking forward to meeting you. He's going to come visit. Arthur, his name is."

"You'll have to meet my best friend, too! Kiku. He's away this weekend, though."

"That'd be nice." Canada wasn't especially interested in meeting Alfred's human friends.

"I've got pictures of him!"

"You can show me later."

"And you need to meet my—our—parents! I live in the dorms, but my folks aren't far. School's just getting out for the summer, anyway, they'll be expecting me, and I can take them a surprise!"

"Ah...maybe some other time. That might be a bit much for me today." And meeting a twin of their son's whom they had no recollection of giving birth to might be a bit much for them.

Alfred chuckled. "Good point. You still look like you've seen a ghost."

That's because I have! Canada had already dismissed the possibility of amnesia. He might have given it more consideration, had he not been there, and seen the mangled body that had been pulled from the wreckage of—Don't think about that! Which left...what? He had no idea. "It should be some hours until Arthur gets here. Would you like to see my place?"

"Yeah, sure." Alfred stood, then promptly dropped back down. "You never did get to order!"

"That's okay. I'll grab something at home."

As they walked to his car, Canada realized with a bitter smile that he was lucky he now kept all pictures of his brother tucked away in boxes. Alfred might have had a few questions if he had seen his face plastered all over. Alfred, meanwhile, was cooing over Canada's car, and bemoaning his lack of funds to buy one for himself.

The chatty human babbled on for the duration of the drive. At one point, he ended up talking about his parents. "They both do office work, though not in the same place, they used to live in Seattle so they didn't have to come far, it sounds like a cool place, have you ever seen pictures of the Space Needle? And there was a market you could go where they threw fish around. Hey, tell me about, you know, who raised you!"

Canada blinked. "Who raised...me?"

"Yeah!"

"Ah, well. Um, I was raised by different people at different times..."

"Oh!" Alfred's voice had a sympathetic catch to it. "You were in foster care?"

"S-sort of? Anyway, one was a raging pervert."

Alfred gasped. "Oh God! No wonder you got taken away from him!"

"Er. He didn't perv on me." Not when he was a child, anyway. "He was a good parent. The circumstances behind my caretaker changing were complicated."

"So the second one was good? No pervertedness?"

Yes, just less blatant. "No. He was good, too."

"Good!" Alfred held up a fist. "Let me know if anybody perved on you. I'll find them and kick their ass."

Always the hero. Canada blinked back tears. "Don't worry about it, no one perved."

When they pulled into his drive, Alfred hung his head out the car window and stared. "Holy mother of—that's your house?"

"One of them." Wait, maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"One...of..." Alfred slowly turned back to face him, looking more shocked than when he had discovered he had a 'brother'. "You own mansions? Plural?"

"Er..."

"You had the best foster parents ever!"

Canada just gave a weak smile, then stepped out of the car.

"Where else do you have houses?"

"Around Canada." And Hawaii, which was now a part of Canada, anyway. He thought of it as a gift rather than a spoil of war. Ah, that reminds me. I should give Russia a call. He's not too far, he might want to visit... Russia had been given Alaska, the other state that survived. The only name he had changed was the capital Juneau, which was now New Ukraine. He spent a lot of time at his new house there.

"Damn..." Canada keyed the front door open and they stepped into the entryway, Alfred gawking around with the wonderment of a child visiting his first theme park. Until he gave a small cry and hid behind Canada.

"What?" the nation asked, alarmed. What did he have that was scary? Had he left out a picture of America? Had Alfred seen it? Had-

"Th-there's a bear in your house!"

Oh.

"Um. That's a pet. He's perfectly harmless."

"A bear!?"

"Yes." Canada leaned over to pet Kumajirou. "See? He's safe."

"Who?" the bear asked him.

Alfred wiggled a finger around in his ear. "Did it just say something?"

"No."

Kumajirou turned to the newcomer next. "America!"

Alfred scratched his head. "I'd swear that he-"

"No!" Canada shooed the polar bear away, hissing at him to keep quiet and stay hidden and there'd be a nice seal in it for him.

By the time he returned, Alfred had already moved on to the living room, gaping at the television. "It's so big! I bet you've got a zillion channels, too!" He helped himself to the remote to find out, flipping through the channels until stopping on...hockey?

"You want to watch hockey?"

"Are you kidding?" Alfred stared at the screen in awe, dropping onto the couch. "It's the best sport ever! With all these channels, you must be able to watch every hockey game that's ever played!"

"Ah..." So not everything was the same. Alfred was like America...raised Canadian.

That was actually rather cool.

"So you live alone? With your bear?"

"I'm alone, yes."

"Why do you need so many houses, and so much space?"

Canada shrugged, unable to come up with a human-sounding reason. "I like it?" He turned to face Alfred, choking down another lump in his throat. How many times had they sat on that couch and argued over sports?

And then, he found his mind traveling to a certain box in his room, which contained a certain jacket, and he desperately wanted to see Alfred in it. He had spent many nights back then wondering what to do with it, whether his brother should be buried in it or not. In the end, Canada had decided rotting in the ground was no place for it, so he kept it. America wouldn't want it to rot away, either. Canada had tried to give it to England once; that had been a mistake.

"So how much longer until your friend gets here?"

Canada shook his head, banishing depressing thoughts. "A while, still. Sorry."

"It's okay! We can watch hockey! And a movie! Is that your collection?" He scooted over to the shelf, running a finger over the gleaming spines. Alfred was pretty good at making himself at home. "Let's watch this!" he said as he tugged one out.

Canada peered closer, and winced. It was one of America's movies, a ghost story he had left there because it was too scary to keep at his house. "You like that sort of thing?"

"You bet! But, um..." He looked back with a hopeful look. "I hate to invite myself over, but..."

"You want to spend the night?" Canada smiled weakly.

"Kiku always watches scary movies with me. But he's away this weekend. He's my roommate, too. Not that I need to sleep with someone nearby. You know."

This Kiku sounded like a patient soul.

So they whiled away the hours watching hockey and scary movies, munching on snacks and chatting. And it was so easy to just let his mind wander and pretend it was America sitting with him, to pretend it was the pre-war days. Particularly during the movie portion, when Alfred was clinging to Canada in terror.

It couldn't be a coincidence. It just couldn't. There was no way some random human could be this similar.

At last, when night had long since descended and they were both yawning, a knock came at the door. Before Canada could react, his visitor was springing to his feet and announcing that he would get it. He had really made himself at home.

Ack! England! He was supposed to call! Canada rushed after Alfred, but it was too late. He made it just in time to hear the human chirp, "Hi! You must be Arthur! Cool eyebrows, man!"