A/N: Yay, onto the chapter that I actually know what I'm going to do! This is the last chapter by the way. I really like this fic, and I really enjoyed writing it!

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England looked around. Everything was empty, just a hazy white. He was filled with apprehension, but he refused to give into fear. He walked forward, testing the non-existent ground as he went. Suddenly, just ahead of him, he saw something. Someone. It was America. England ran to him.

"America!" he called out and the younger nation smiled at him. "America, I have something important I need to tell you." He felt America put a finger to his lips, then the younger man wrapped his arms around England, softly bringing their lips together.

Then he disappeared.

The scene had changed. The white was gone. England was standing in the rain, mud caked to his boots, and his red jacket soaked to the skin. The smell of gun powder was in the air…

England woke with a start, his breath jagged. It was a dream, just a dream. But even with that reassurance, the parallel was overwhelming and so, pulling his knees to his chest, England sat in the bed in America's guest room and wept.

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After a while, and with a bit of effort, England had managed to rouse himself out of bed and dress. He then went downstairs to see if America was awake yet. In the kitchen, England found him to be awake, (if only barely) leaning against the counter in a pair of jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, drinking coffee.

"Good morning, England," he said as the older man approached him.

"Morning…" England said, his voice somewhat raspy. America suddenly perked up.

"England, are you okay?" he asked, concern in his voice. England almost laughed.

"No," he replied. "No I don't think I am." America stood up straight and walked toward the other man.

"What's wro-"

"America, I'm in love with you," England said, stopping the younger man in his tracks. "I've been in love with you for centuries. I've been trying to tell you this whole time but-" England looked up to America and the shocked look on his face made the island nation choke on the speech he had prepared that morning. His heart shattered. He guessed that was his answer.

"I'll send for my things," he told America and quickly made his way out of the kitchen into the hall, then the foyer and out the front door. He wanted to run, he wanted to cry, he wanted to curl into a little ball and cradle his head in his hands as he let the pain overwhelm him but, for now, he would do none of those things. First, he would calmly walk to the nearest hotel, get a shuttle to the airport and go home, where he could do any one of those things. He didn't get far when he heard the footsteps of someone running up behind him. Not needing to look to see who it was, he simply ducked his head and walked a little faster.

He expected America to stop him, to jump in front of him or yell at him. He definitely didn't expect the younger man to completely run into him, wrap his arms around him, and hold him. America lowered his head so that it was resting on England's shoulder. The older country didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. He tried to break free, but America wasn't having that.

"Let me go, America," England said. What was he thinking? Wasn't he disgusted? Why was he holding so tight to the man who he had basically just turned down?

"No," America replied, his voice muffled.

"America-"

"I don't want to!" he cried, and England stood stunned. Had he jumped the gun? His heart did a flip. Did America return his feelings? He wasn't sure what to say. They stood like that for a long while, before England finally opened his mouth.

"America do you…" he let his voice trail off.

"I don't know," America responded truthfully, his voice rough. "I've never thought of you like that before." England closed his eyes. He knew it was too good to be true.

"Then why did you come after me?" he asked almost bitterly.

"Because I don't want you to go away," said the younger nation, his arms tightening around England. "I said I don't know how I feel. I don't know if us being together is a good idea or not but…that doesn't mean we can't try, right?" He lifted his head and turned England so that they were facing each other. The older man couldn't help the tears rolling down his face.

"Right," he whispered. America smiled at him, and pulled him into a warm embrace, where they stayed until both grew tired of standing and they walked back to America's home. America didn't break his embrace the whole walk there, keeping one arm around his waist and England grew hopeful. There was nothing for sure, but did it ever feel good to have America hold him.

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Crappy ending you say? I agree. But…wait, this can't be! What do I have in my hand? Is that…is that a SEQUEL? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I believe it is. xD Okay, I'm done joking around. In all seriousness, I was just gonna make this one big story, but the more I wrote on it, the more it seemed to need to be split into two different fics. So keep an eye out for the sequel if you're interested. I'll probably start on it either tomorrow or right after I finish posting this. xD

-K.H. Wright