Much to not only my disappointment, but Arthur's as well these attacks continued. Night after night after night after night. He would jerk upright, screaming at the top of his lungs and clutching his chest and begging for someone to make the pain stop. The little brunette nurse, who had later introduced herself as Abby, would inject him with more sedative as I held him down and tried to keep his thrashing to a minimum. This had become routine. An awful and somber routine.

He never really woke up. He was always too weak or too drugged out on sedatives and morphine to actually be conscious and coherent. There were a few times where his green eyes would open into little slits and gaze about the room, at me, at Abby and then they would close again until his next attack. Every day I could feel myself constantly shrinking to life sized proportions as I realized I wasn't able to help him. My bosses wouldn't allow it. Stupid isolationism, what a load of bull shit…. Still I was a country first and a… well everything else second. Still every time I went through that same awful routine I could feel myself shrinking and my heart breaking, every single night for those horrific 57 nights. Yes I said 57, England was bombed in its capital city more times than the stars on the American flag. To be honest with you I was really surprised he had managed to survive it every night; even though every time an attack came about I mentally prepared myself for the worse. But that's my Iggy, huh? Stubborn as a jackass; he'd never die without a fight or at least properly saying goodbye to me.

September had now turned into November and slowly the bombings on London itself had subsided. The German Nazi bastard was focusing on something else other than England's heart; we just hadn't figured out where that place was yet. But during this time Arthur's pain was dulled to a point where he could be taken off the sedatives and actually be conscious. I sat at his bed side eagerly waiting for him to open his eyes. Abby had said it was only a matter of time before he regain consciousness and that was something I was entirely too impatient for. I fidgeted, constantly shifting in my chair and bouncing my foot up and down. Taking off my glasses and polishing them time and time again even though they were already spotless. "Don't worry Mr. Jones," Abby reassured me, putting a small comforting hand on my shoulder. "Sir Kirkland will wake soon, just be patient."

"Patients has never been my strong point." I replied restlessly. According to England I was the king of being impatient; always diving in head first to things that should be thought over carefully. But that was my nature; there was nothing I could do about it.

"Mmh…" came a small groan from the blonde in the bed and caused both of us to freeze dead in our tracks and whip are heads to where Arthur was beginning to stir out of his sleep. I practically launched myself out of my chair and slid on my knees to the side of the bed; Abby followed me in a much less over dramatic fashion. His emerald green eyes opened into small narrow slits as he gazed up at the white ceiling. His eyes slid in their sockets, exploring the room until they came to a stop on me. "Al…?" He rasped weakly.

"Yeah Iggy! It's me Alfred." First word that comes out of his mouth? My name! That couldn't make me happier. He groaned a little rubbing his eye with one hand and then pulling his messy unkempt bangs out of his face. "Don't call me… by that stupid nickname…" Yup that was my Iggy. Telling me he hated my nick name for him even though he just woken up from what was practically a coma.

He propped himself up on his thin elbows; doing his best to ease his weak trembling body so he could sit up. "Let me help," I said as I stood up and gently took his shoulders to help him up. He nearly immediately brushed me off.

"I can lift myself up thank you." He weakly snapped, putting as much acid into his voice as he could manage. Slowly, but surely he dragged himself by this propped elbows until he sat upright on stacked up pillows. It was silent for a moment; his green eyes just wandering around the room a bit. Inspecting each little detail with a well trained and patient gaze.

"H-How do you feel?" I asked just to fill the silence.

"Like I got hit by a double-decker bus." He said his voice quick, firm, and really ticked off. Well what was I supposed to say to that?

"I can give you more pain killers I-if you want…" Abby chirped in. Arthur's gaze slid over to where the small brunette was practically climbing over my shoulder to talk to him. He stared at her for a moment; on thick eyebrow slowly arching.

"You seem very familiar…" He mused quietly. "Have I met you before?"

Her face lit up and she eagerly nodded her head. "Y-yes! I'm Abigail Blazedale. You came to visit the orphanage I lived at when I was little, St. Margret's." She explained as she tried to contain the excitement of talking to him again.

He brought a hand up to his chin and gazed up at the ceiling in thought as he ran through the centuries of memories he had in his head. "Yes… I think I remember…" he said in realization. "You were the little girl sitting alone in the yard."

Abby nodded her head nearly unable to contain her joy. "Yes, yes! It's so good to see you again Sir Kirkland… w-well not here in the hospital… but still it's good to talk to you again!" She stuttered nervously.

"Yes, yes it's very wonderful to see you are well." He replied hastily (A bit to Abby's disappointment.) and turned to me; his green eyes burning with alarm and worry. "What day is it? How long have I been out? Are my people okay? What I am I doing here when there's a war going on outside?" Question after question he fired at me. As soon as I would try to answer one question he would just hit me with another one.

"Well more or less yes you're people are recovering. You're here because Germany bombed London and it sort of left you in a coma for awhile…" I explained reluctantly; trying to leave out as many details as I could so I wouldn't rile him up.

"How long is 'awhile'?" He asked as his thick eye brows furrowed on his forehead.

"Uh well um…" I hesitated in telling him because I knew if I did he'd probably freak. I considered lying to him, but once I looked into the green eyes desperately seeking my answer I thought otherwise. "Uh… about a… a month…"

He started at me for a second; mouth hanging open and eyes before something inside him snapped and he exploded. "What!? What do you mean a month!?" A shouted furiously causing me to flinch and Abby to cringe back towards the wall. "This is ridiculous! I can't be sitting here like an imbecile while my country is under attack!" He shouted as he ripped the sheets off his bed and with a quick wince of pain pulled the I.V. from his arm. "Clothes! Where in the bloody hell are my clothes!?" Me and Abby stood silent and motionless as he tore through different drawers to locate his normal clothes instead of those generic green pajamas he was in. (I know this sounds awful, but it was kinda funny…)

He cut himself from short from his little tangent and left out a loud and painful gasp before crippling to the ground hugging his leg to his chest. "Damn that Nazi bastard! Attacking the ports how dare he!" He screamed through gritted teeth. I assumed his sudden pain must've been caused by a bombing from Germany's Luftwaffe planes. Even though he was in pain I was relieved to see that it wasn't London that had been attacked this time.

Abby and I quickly moved to help him off, but by this point he was so outraged that he just angrily pushed us away and continued to writhe on the floor alone. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth together as he growled a long string on inaudible curse words (Well it was either that or something in Old English…) I felt so helpless, watching him suffering like that. I couldn't help him, I couldn't ease his pain. But even if there was a way for me to help he wouldn't let me help him anyway. He was just way too god damn stubborn. I could just feel myself fading away… I was loosing myself as a hero. At that moment I had never felt more human. A stupid mortal who was incapable of anything. I couldn't be a hero… well not a hero to the person who I wanted to protect most.

Within a few moments his pain had dulled away and he laid there on ground; breathing heavily out of his mouth with a heaving chest as his hands trembled. He looked so small and frail with those now pale green eyes clouded with pain; his skin as pale as a sheet and his forehead beaded with sweat. Too weak to protest again me I gently picked him up in my arms bridal style and placed him back in bed. Only then did I truly realize how weak he had become. He felt so much lighter like had lost weight; a lot of weight. He just stared off mindlessly into the distance as I retrieved a clean blanket from one of the drawers and placed it over his thin frame. The cream colored cloth turning into mountains and valleys against the curves, dips, and lines of his body. "I'll get him some water…" Abby announced as she quickly paced out of the room to the hallway. I just cleared a little space and sat on the edge of Arthur's bed, reaching up and brushing his messy blonde bangs out of his face. Usually if I did that he would glare daggers at me or something, but he just continued to stare of into the distance. He was so far away no matter how far a stretched I couldn't reach him.

"Why aren't you doing anything…?" He rasped quietly.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I continued to stroke his hair. Obviously I was doing something.

"The war… everyone just… abandoned me…" He whispered almost inaudibly. At the moment England had no allies; not with that stupid pervert France just openly surrendering to that German bastard and Russia too pre occupied with his own territorial gains. England was standing alone in this; against the entirety of the Axis Powers. "Why won't any one help me…?" He gaze slid over from the wall and to mine; a gaze so hurt and sorrowful that it made my chest hurt uncontrollably. "Why won't you help me…? You are the last one who I thought would abandon me…." That was a strike straight into my heart.

"I didn't abandon you Arthur!" A shouted in protest. "I would never abandon you, but…!" But what? What was I supposed to tell him? Because my boss wouldn't let me help my oldest and dearest friend? Because we wanted to be selfish and save our own hides by not involving ourselves in the war and letting Europe take all the heat since we live all the way in the Western Hemisphere? "I… I can't… I can't get involved…" I muttered quietly; hanging my head in shame. My president was a great man… truly he was, but… boy did I hate him at that moment.

Arthur moved his gaze away again and looked back off into the distance. The silence he let fall between was making me fidget and twitch with unease. "Leave me be…" He finally breathed a soft sentence into the silence.

"Arthur I…" I began to protest, but he quickly cut me off.

"Now." I had never heard anyone put so much acid into one single world before. Suppressing a little shiver I slowly got off the bed and shuffled to the door; gently pulling it to a close behind me. I stood there for a moment; just starring off into space past all the nurses, doctors, and patients that passed me by. I removed my glasses brought my forearm over my now unshielded eyes and tried let the darkness comfort me. Of course though it didn't.

Some hero I turned out to be.