HELLOO SAN FRANCISCO!

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What's up dude? WHAT'S UP DUDE? After all of my troubles, that is the damn greeting I get? I flared my nostrils in anger, wishing to slap the imbecile for being so damn oblivious. I huffed, shaking my head. Perhaps America was truly not aware of the things going on around him. If that were the case, it would not shock me, the git was completely dense.

"Are you alright?" I asked, looking around. This was an inadequate time to be upset at Alfred for his moronic tactics. I wondered where he was, who he was with, what he was doing. It had only been one simple day since we last spoke, surely not too much must have happened.

"Of course I am, dude! I'm the hero. Heroes are always alright!" he sang. I slightly frowned. He sounded too cheery for his situation. His dialect sounded forced. I felt like he didn't want me to worry, so I played along. I am a proper gentleman, and proper gentlemen do not make others uncomfortable (without reason).

"Ah, exquisite. Senate not being too harsh on you, now are they?" I teased, trying to liven up the situation. I heard him laugh from the other end, the sound filling my heart with relief. I loved that arse's laugh. He would never find out of this, however. Not in a million fucking years.

"Nope."

Our conversation grew silent. I looked down at the floor, not knowing what else to say. The grey colours in the living room which I was standing in seemed to tint my mood with their shades. I held the phone closer to my ear, wondering how many of my fifteen minutes I had already used up.

"Hey, Iggy?" Alfred began. I brought my lips up to a half-smile, chuckling slightly.

"Yes?" I replied, shaking my head at the blasted nickname. However, this was not the time to scold at America. His change of tone made me realize something, nonetheless. Alfred knew exactly what was going on. There was no need for him to come out and say it, nor could I read it from his expression, but the way his breathing pattern decelerated and his pitch lowered, I knew he was aware. Turns out he was not as oblivious as I originally believed.

"Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?" he asked. My heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt a pressure at my chest. Was that git apologizing? I lowered my lids.

"Hm. Was that question meant to hurt?" I muttered, rolling my eyes. Of course I would believe that tosser, he was one of the few morons to whom I would hand my life to blindly. I trusted him, despite his childish ways. I heard America performing his famous nervous habit, nail biting. Quite a horrid habit, which would be incredibly difficult to put a halt to. I awaited his reply.

"No. Just my fear of losing you, I guess.." he sighed. I held my breath. Oh yes, Alfred definitely knew what my government had to say over his situation. I felt cold all of a sudden. Were we giving up? Was this phone call one to say goodbye? I closed my eyes, remembering the past when we would watch his horrific Hollywood terror films on his couch, or simply stroll down any street, chuckling at some political figure's appearance. I felt as if those days were gone. After being together for so long, I had never told Alfred exactly everything I felt towards him.

We had always understood each other's feelings without any need to say them out loud. There was no need to say it, but the doubt would always remain there, unfortunately. I felt the salty sting of tears beginning to form in my eyes, making their journey down my cheeks. Everything outside suddenly became quiet. Far too quiet. Something was definitely occurring.

I heard sirens from outside of the house, the red and blue lights flashing through the curtains. I felt no fear at the moment. I wanted to be with Alfred for as long as possible, even if it was just his voice I had access to.

"Arthur? What's going on?" America asked in an alarmed tone. I ignored his question, becoming clear with my sentiments. I did care about Alfred. I did not wish to smile in a world without him. I held my ground, not planning to move one muscle.

"MR. KIRKLAND. WE'VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED. GIVE YOURSELF UP NOW, OR FACE THE CHARGES OF FELONY TOWARDS YOUR NATION." a voice called out.

"England? What's happening?"

I stared at the back door. Felony was an intense term to use for simply speaking to the one you lo- truly care about. For the one you truly care about. I had been given my warnings, however. I knew what might occur. I knew Parliament would not be pleased with my actions. Did I regret picking up the phone to call Alfred? Did I regret all the time we spent together, only to be brought down to this horrendous ending? I closed my eyes, letting more tears run down my face. I was a gentleman. Gentlemen only cried in privacy.

"YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS, KIRKLAND."

"Iggy!"

I opened my eyes, and held my position. I stood straight, dusted my maroon sweater and kept my stance. If they wanted me, they could come in now. They could take me for all I gave a damn. I knew of one thing, however. Alfred picked up the phone. He picked up, which meant I would do everything in my will power to return to his side while we sorted our troubles separately.

The front door slammed open. I heard the elderly woman scream curses from the edge of the staircase, shaking her fragile fists. Servicemen and police from all different branches ran towards me, pointing their guns in my direction. Let them shoot. It would simply kill their nation. I looked at each one of them in the eye. I felt no hatred nor scorn for these men. They were simply doing their job for me, despite the irony.

This entire gimmick was definitely an over reaction in my opinion, but they were my people. I believed I had to do as they said. The dried tears stiffened my face slightly, and I continued an expressionless facade in order to avoid more conflict.

"Don't move or we'll shoot!"

I chuckled, continuing to keep my vision straight ahead, focusing on nothing nor anyone. If my approximations were correct, I had seven seconds before I was taken under arrest. Perhaps with proper persuasion I could return home in time to finish my beloved "Dr. Who" marathon. Oh, how I adored Matt Smith as the Doctor. I realized Alfred was still on the line.

"Shoot? Iggy? Are you okay? Dude, what's going on?" he continued to ask. I kept a straight face, bringing my hands up to cup my mouth in order to whisper. No one would hear nor decipher what I was to say. Not the blasted old wench, nor the police.

"PUT THE PHONE DOWN, KIRKLAND!" they screamed. My people were so damn impatient and grumpy. I wonder where they got that from. I lowered my lids, choosing my last words that Alfred would hear for what would most likely be quite a long time.

"Alfred.."

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

"I love you."

"Wha-"

I hung up the phone. Smirking, I looked every man once again in the eye. I would allow them to take me, but only by turning myself in. I would not go down to my own government without pride. I lifted my arms up in the air, preparing for the next upcoming scenario.

"Well done, gents. I applaud you," I began, sarcastically. I never dropped my smile. The most buff out of the men surrounding me approached my area slowly, scared that I might pull a trick on his ignorant arse. He rapidly grabbed my arms and placed them behind my back, cuffing them as tight as they would go. The cold metal was slightly shocking to my skin, but I grew accustomed to their feeling.

They took me out of the elderly woman's home, her shrieks and curses not a stranger to anyone's ears any longer. As the men took me under their control, my mind remained blank. I felt nothing. This feeling of emptiness was one similar to 1776. I shuddered at my realization, there would be no way in Hell that I would go all "Bella Swan" on myself. That would be simply preposterous. My mind remained a blank canvas afterwords, however. The servicemen shoved me into the back seat of a car, and started up the engine. I hoped their batteries went flat, those tossers.

I pressed my cheek against the window, not sure exactly what to think. Alfred was no longer mine. He knew of this. We both knew. I wondered what he would do during my absence. I thought more about our past conversation. I had told the git how I felt. I suppose know I would never truly know if he stayed by my side purely for convenience of if my feelings were returned. I shrugged. It was far too late now. I had ended the call abruptly. If I were to receive any punishment, I am pleased that those were my last words to America.

Maybe this was all for the best. I tried my best to remain positive. I shook my head once more, I saw no good in this. Perhaps he would find someone better. I hoped he wouldn't. Perhaps it was wrong of me to think I could keep him. The auto made its course during the night, my thoughts always returning to America. Surely, he was safe. He had to be. If not, I know not what I might do. Shoot a couple of tossers, that's what. Blast all.

The car ride seemed to be endless. I attempted to count the stars, tell myself stories of previous prime ministers, my lovely Queen Elizabeth. The air appeared to be getting cooler, fogging up the side windows on my side. I kicked the driver's seat.

"Oi, tosser. When the bloody hell will we be arriving, eh?" I hissed, no longer giving a damn over being proper.

"Shut him up, will you?" the driver asked one of his comrades. The lankier man gave me a sympathetic look, as if I were some beggar from the streets. I scorned at his gentle face, wishing to get away from this damned place and out of this fucking car. I kicked the seat once more, as if I were a young child.

"LET ME OUT, YOU GITS. I DEMAND TO BE RELEASED!" I screamed, slowly losing my composure. The car came to a halt, and the door on the opposite end of me opened widely. It was about damn time. I had no idea where I was being taken, but anything was better than that cramped car.

"We're here, Kirkland. Hurry up." the driver hissed. I tried to move to the best of my abilities, walking in whichever direction I was pointed to. I felt like a prisoner of war. In a way, I was a prisoner. A prisoner to myself, my nation, my people. With every step, I began to lose my sanity. We had yet to reach any buildings before I halted, the men behind me bumping into my backside.

"What the fu-" the lankier officer began, shoving me forward. His sympathy was short-living, as far as I could tell. My thoughts traced back to America. His blue eyes, his blonde hair, the way his glasses would tilt to the left side whenever he laughed a bit too harshly. Would I never witness those things again? I looked at the ground, feeling an emptiness inside of me. I not only loved America, I was in love with that damn prick. God damn it.

This situation would be far too difficult to handle now that I've become honest with myself. After moments of zoning out, I felt something hard against my back. I turned around to a gun pointed at me once more. These men meant business. Part of me wished to kick their moronic and ignorant faces into oblivion.

"You ready to go inside, Kirkland?" the driver asked, nodding towards the large, metal door which stood in front of us. I blinked rapidly, surprised. I could not believe I had not noticed that monstrous thing. I closed my eyes, and straightened my thoughts out. My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am a proper gentleman. I keep all of my promises. I would fight to the end to be reunited with Alfred. I opened my eyes, tears absent from my cheeks. I looked back at the two officers who awaited my answer. Smirking, I opened my mouth.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Lead the way, wankers."


DUN DUN DUN

I'm so happy to have been able to include some America in here.

Well, I hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter, it was updated rather quickly. OTL

Thank you for reading, don't forget to review, loves! 3