DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia.

ahh~ i may or may not piss you guys off with this chapter. let me know your reactions at the end if i did. haha man this Chapter is long! I'm proud of myself for that one~ And i believe that i uploaded fairly quick~ *grins* i hope you enjoy this Chapter!


The Clock smashed against the apartment wall with brute force, shattering into tiny metallic pieces and cogs. America let out a loud groan and sat up, clenching his teeth in frustration. The blond had woken up in a cold seat, and was now breathing heavily. Ugh!

"IT DOESN'T MATCH UP!" Unwanted tears burned in the American's cerulean eyes. He clutched his blanket to himself digging his fingers into the comforter. Why? His dreams didn't make sense to him anymore. They had begun to change and shift into a time where there was war… But it must be the war he had forgotten, for he didn't recognize it from anywhere else. The battle field was most defiantly the one they had just spent FOREVER repairing. Or at least what he has seen…


He was walking on a flat field of dirt, dust and snowflakes dancing though the chilled Canadian air. Despite the brutality of the war, things were becoming better, and maybe it was almost over. America sure hoped so as he smiled down—no up at Russia as the snow swirled around him. It was a good thing that they had Russia on their side. The large man was hard to fight against, and he was extremely brutal, and of course, having him meant that they had at Belarus who could-and probably did-kill her enemies simply by looking at them. As he was sure she had tried to do to him many times. But she couldn't kill a HERO with a glare. No, he was just way too awesome for that~

Glowing green eyes met his, and the Russian slipped his hand into the Americans with a small and genuine smile. A smile so full of love that it made America feel suddenly warm, even though it was snowing… America's heart sped up, and blush coloured his cheeks, making him feel somewhat childish. He couldn't believe that the older nation felt the same way about him! It made the American feel as though he could fly, as if he has grown wings and could soar with the angels and fairies that—

That he loves so much?

That couldn't be right…As far as America remembered Russia wasn't too fond of the little fairies…that was England's turf. Russia much preferred the gory stories…

"Alfred." The accent sent chills up America's spine. It was just so sexy! He grinned at the love in the way the other man said his name, the way that the man's voice was slipping over him in velvet tones. Alfred found himself-as he did many a time- just staring into the Russian's green eyes, getting lost in those endless fields of love. Love for him.

The love that he returned.

Before he had been able to imaginewhat actual love would be like, but finally he wasn't acting. This was a real thing... A true feeling.

For Ivan.

An arm wrapped around America's waist and he found himself being pulled into a loving embrace, the other mans lips mere inches from his. He smelt of tea and honey, clover and amazingness… America breathed in the air between them and closed the distance with his lips.

His hand twined though the messy blond hair—


And that was when Alfred had woken up. Had that truly been one of the memories that he had been longing to remember? If so then why the hell was his mind f*cking with him so badly?

UGH!

IT didn't make any sense. Yes, it was nice that he had fallen in love with Ivan, but Ivan's eyes weren't green, like they were in the dream. Maybe it was the lighting. And Maybe the Russian's strait, perfect hair had been messy because of the fighting…

But then why did he smell like that?

And…and…NOTHING MADE ANY SENSE!

Alfred threw another thing at the wall, the closest thing to him…a pillow… it made only a small sound of impact before it hit the floor. America wanted to curse, scream, cry! He wanted to go back to the times when he was a child, when he didn't have to hold back his emotions and could just cry. Cry When England left him in a cold and lonely house for a long time, Cry when he had gotten sick, but England wasn't there to help him. Cry because he had betrayed the person he cared most for and split away from him! But—

This wasn't about England…

This was about God hating him so much so that when Alfred FINALLY remembered something, it was screw up, and didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Oh HELL no.

America pulled the covers back over his head and brought his face down into his pillow and just screamed. He wanted to just let all of this anger go. Alfred bit back his tears. Part of him knew that something was wrong. But he didn't understand what…UGH! He wanted to hit something….

Where was that Commie bastard?

It was his fault for not making any sense…and changing his eye colour in the dream to confuse Alfred. Must be one of his stupid Communist super powers…

"America?" As if on cue Alfred heard the larger nation walk into the room, even though his footsteps were nearly inaudible. The Russian approached the bed, and gently lifted the covers away from the American's head. His purple-NOT GREEN- eyes widened slightly as they searched Alfred's face. He probably could tell what America was holding back. Alfred knew that he was an open book for the Russian. He could hide anything….

"Is everything okay?" He asked finally, Alfred stared his him through wide baby blues. Russia looked genuinely worried about America. For a moment the American hesitated, and in that moment of silence he was pulled into a sudden embrace. "Alfred?" Alfred closed his eyes and relaxed into his lovers arms.

"Yeah…" He muttered into his chest. "Yeah, I'm good…"

"You are lying America." Russia said soothingly. "You would not have broken the clock if something was not wrong. Do you not wish to tell me?" America shook his head against the fabric of Russia's jacket.

No…..He didn't want to tell Russia all of his problems, they would only make him upset, and besides…

America wanted to figure this out on his own. He didn't want to be told anything.

Not anymore…

The large man released him. "Alright" He smiled warmly down at Alfred. "What do you want to do today?"

So he had decided not to pry…Good

I didn't want to have to talk about it anyways

"Dunno." America answered, snuggling closer to Russia.

"We can stay home."

"Mmmnnn." Alfred closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Ivan, surrendering himself to the intoxicating aroma the other man gave off.

"Is that a yes?"

"Mmmmhmmm." The Russian chuckled a little bit, and began to weave his fingers through America's hair. It felt good when someone was running their fingers through your hair, especially if they did it smoothly and with such skill…Especially if they were Russia, and especially if you loved them…

And….America loved Ivan…

Yeah….

Love….

Russia suddenly leaned back on the bed, taking America with him until the confused blond was on top of him. America gazed down at Russia, wondering if the other man wanted something more than Alfred felt like doing at the moment…

For some reason he couldn't understand, his body was really rejecting those thoughts.

Why?

The Russian's cool hands came up and caressed the American's face, bringing it down to his own. Kissing Russia was like…America didn't even bother to think on too much detail. His mind was slowly being sedated by Ivan's gentle lips on his. The misty feel made him wonder…

How could I have forgotten something like this?


England stormed through the Hotel hallways, unlocking his door and stepping into his room in a huff. The door slammed behind him, harder than it probably should have. The English man hung up his keys, and let himself sink to the floor.

Damnit!

His head was pounding; his eyes were red and irritated from the annoying tears. Men didn't cry. But, he had been sobbing for almost four hours in his car. Even blinking hurt…and every ounce of pain reminding him of Alfred…

And the stupid Russian who had stolen him away… It wasn't fair! America was—

"CHYESSSS!" England's heart skipped a beat. Who was in his apartment? All emotions forgotten, he slowly stood and make his was down the small hall towards his room. How could someone have gotten in? Why were they in his room? And….was that a Wii he heard? Since when did he have one of those?

It occurred to him that maybe it was Francis. The Frenchman DID have a tendency to appear when least wanted. All of his sadness was lost and he bit his lip flames of fury ripping through him.

"Franc—"

He burst into the room and his heart nearly stopped at what he saw. The brown leather jacket, wide blue eyes, and the blonde hair…and… and…

Impossible…

"Alfred?"


Canada lay in the dark hospital room, feeling the scratchy and uncomfortable hospital sheets. Not to mention his pillow…. How could he be expected to fall asleep on something that crunched every time he moved around? And the sound of the machines beeping in his ears allowed him no rest.

He had been forgotten again…He guessed that it was only natural… Though Russia's reaction wasn't expected… why had be done that? Part of Canada just flat out rejected the idea that Ivan would do that. But he had… And…

Why on earth did Alfred believe him?

America and Russia were NOT on good terms. Not good enough for America to actually believe that he had fallen in love with the Russian.

Wait.

Where was Kumajirou?

Come to think of it, Matthew hadn't seen his beloved polar bear in a long time…Suddenly he was really lonely, completely alone in the scary medical room. And he couldn't fall back asleep; he had no escape from the dark room…

But at least the sun was rising and soon he wouldn't be surrounded by the blackness. Left alone in his fears and loneliness... He had already been in the darkness for much too long. Even while he was in the coma is was darkness…darkness and the horrible dreams from the war. He had been forced to relive every moment. The worst moments…

Canada bit his lip and pulled the thin sheets closer to himself. He didn't want to be alone…in fact he wanted to be with someone…to be wrapped in their arms. But that person would never feel anything towards him. Matthew was invisible to them.

And of course…

He loves someone else…

Russia sat on the bed with America's head on his lap, moving his fingers through the blond man's silky hair. The younger nation had fallen asleep not too long ago and he was already slipping back into those dreams that tormented him so….

Russia knew that he was remembering things from the war… Things that had happened with England but his mind was trying to make sense out of it by mixing Russia and England together… and in that making the American even more confused…And frustrated… Russia would have to take things away from the bedside from now on. They did not own these things and America should not keep going around breaking them.

Alfred fidgeted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. He would wake up again and be confused…

It's my fault…

The Russian thought sadly. He felt only a little bit guilty for confusing the American. But if that's what it took to make him his…

It was a small price to pay.

Because I love him…

Yes, Russia had loved him for a very long time.

"Eng…." America moved slightly in his sleep. His eyelids fluttered, but he never opened his eyes. Some bits of truth were slipping into the dreams… but Russia knew that they wouldn't be remembered when he awoke. Because that reality was not true in the living world. It seemed that his heart remembered loving England, but awake it was something beyond his comprehension.

Still, hearing the English nation's name muttered so sweetly through Alfred's lips tore at his soul… it was like the universe was telling him that no, Alfred would never become one with Russia…

"America…" Russia murmured, pushing back the younger nation's hair and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "I love you, and you will never know how much…" He wished that there was a way that he could make America forget completely about the English nation. For that love to be completely erased from the American's being so that Ivan could replace it with himself. Make Alfred love him that way…not through some dirty trick. Not through some way that would have Alfred confused.

So that way…he will always love me….

And it wouldn't only be a temporary thing. Russia wouldn't have to fear the day when Alfred woke up with all of his memories.

The American smiled sweetly in his sleep and made a contented noise, rolling over in his sleep, forcing the Russian to lay down so that his stomach could now be used as a pillow.

After only a few moments after the blissful sleep Alfred began to thrash around and cry out until he shot up and everything went silent.

Russia tried to ignore the silent tears slipping down his lovers face as the young man whispered:

"it doesn't make any sense…"

It shouldn't Russia thought Because… it isn't the truth…


The blonde turned to look at England, blue eyes wide and filled with mischief.

"Hey there Arthur!" England's mind whirled, his pissy mood just becoming pissier.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY APARTMENT?" He screamed at the girl. She dropped the Wii controlled, which just hit back against her wrist for she had the strap on, and held her hands up.

"Sorry…" She bit her lip. This was the girl that he had slept with not too long ago… was she SERIOUSLY back at his apartment? How long had she been here? Ugh.

This is NOT alright.

"Sorry doesn't cut it love, what the f*ck do you think you're doing?" England questioned. If he wasn't such a gentleman he probably would have strangled her.

She just stood there; as if she was mocking him… looking nearly the same as his beloved Alfred… it just wasn't fair.

God has a cruel sense of humor

"Well….If sorry doesn't cut it then… I came in through a copy that I made of your key. I went to the front desk and told them your name and that we had misplaced our key. They had seen me come in with you before so they gave me the second key. They really aren't that trustworthy now are they?" She smirked. England cursed the hotel workers and their lack of common sense. Couldn't they have at least asked for his credit card to confirm the account? The girl continued with her story. "So, you weren't here for a few days, and I ordered a Wii. I've been playing Mario Cart! Wanna play?" She grinned. "I'll kick your ass."

There was a twinge of pain in England's heart as he recalled a time when America has said the same thing to him. It was too much to see her looking so much like him!

"Take off that jacket!" He snapped. She looked down at the brown leather and then back up at him with a repressed smile.

"You want me to take it off?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." He ignored her playful tone, and lowered his voice dangerously. "Now." The blonde could see that he was not in the mood for games. She reached up gingerly taking off the jacket.

"Now," England began. "How did you get a hold of that?"

"I went through your closet."

"WHAT?" He gaped at her. Was she insane? Going through his stuff without asking him? And she had said it like it was no big deal.

"Dude," She laughed. "I'm kidding. This jacket is mine." Hers? What? HE opened his mouth to yell at her, but he was stopped. "Have you ever heard about a thing called cosplay?" The woman questioned. England knew a bit about it yes, but only the little he had heard a while back from Japan…But honestly right now he didn't recall anything but the name… But that didn't really matter right now! How could the jacket be hers if it looked exactly the same as America's jacket? The 50 on the back, the star, the airplane—but wait… it wasn't as worn, in fact as he looked closer at the brown leather jacket, he could see that it was almost new…

"No?" She asked again after observing his face a little more. England sighed and shook his head. "Alrighty… well you know those people who dress up and go to conventions?"

"You mean like comic cons?" But wasn't that Star Wars, and Star Trek, and stuff like that? She didn't look like any of those characters, she looked like America. The English nation was perplexed.

"Yeah!" She grinned. "Except this is Anime and Manga and stuff, ya know?"

"Okay, yeah?"

"Well, me too!" Her too? Meaning that she dressed like the characters… England blinked. That still didn't explain— "Has anyone ever told you that you would make the most perfect England Cosplay?" Meagan bit down on her lip, and bounced with enthusiasm.

England froze and looked at her. How did she know about—

No… England stopped himself. She believes that it is all some kind of ridiculous anime. Okay…

But still…how the hell was this possible?

He looked back at her and swallowed. "And you are cosplaying America?" The sentence sounded weird to him. But he knew by her reaction that he was right on the bat.

"YEAH! Isn't it fantastic?" She beamed, taking pride in her imitation of England's lover. No. it was most certainly not great. Though she looked exactly like— No, there it was, her smile. She didn't have the same devilish and dimpled smile that Alfred had. So she wasn't exactly like him, but still…

"Yes…" He muttered. "A bit too well." That part he hadn't meant for her to hear, but it seemed that she did, and not sensing the emotion in his words she took it as a compliment.

"Thanks!" She swung around the Wii controller so that it landed gracefully in the palm of her hand. "Now, about that game of Mario cart." He sighed and decided to play-at least it would get his mind off of everything…

"Damnit Alfred! No more playing as baby Peach!" England growled as he was once again forced to come in second to the small princess. HE should be winning! He was Bowser and Bowser was HUGE! He should have been able to crush that damn…

He laughter faltered into a more forced chuckle as she heard the name. Crap…he had hardly noticed that he had probably been calling her Alfred for the entirety of the game. The two of them had played like this as well…even though they had always ended up fighting… mainly because of England…

The girl was grinning at him again with an arrogant look on her face. "Well maybe if you stopped choosing heavy characters with huge slow cars like Bowser you would actually stand a chance against me!" Meagan laughed.

"Oh shut up."

"Make me."

England suddenly was brought back to the time a few months back when he and Alfred had been in that restaurant after the other mans recovery. When America had asked him if he really DID want him to make England shut his mouth… England regretted not saying yes. If only he could go back in time… That Damn Russian wouldn't have stolen his lover. And he never would have even gotten a little chance to have.

"No thanks." England smiled politely at her, and put down his Wii controller. The memories had reminded him that he needed to be packing to go back home….

"Arthur…" The blonde began, her voice sympathetic. She must have sensed something in the tone of his voice. It was strange how women seemed to pick up on emotions so easily… She knew that something was wrong with him. But she couldn't see how truly broken he was…

For a moment Arthur let his eyes search her face, searching for the Alfred in it. Yes, his hero was there…

"What's the matter?" She asked again, her voice soft and low.

"Russia!" England cried out, his sanity threatening to rip at the seams. She looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Russia…" She repeated the name and then smiled. "Oh! Well those Commies—but wait…it isn't…" She seemed lost.

"Not the country. He's a person." England muttered, rubbing his temples.

"A man named Russia?" She asked excitedly.

"No. It's a nickname."

"Oh… but you call each other the names of countries? Like Hetalia!" She grinned, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement.

"What are you babbling on about?" His mind still hadn't fully grasped the idea of this anime thing…

"It's okay if you don't know what I'm talking about." She smiled. "Just leave me to my fantasies~" okay then… "As long as THEY know what I am talking about~ Right?" She was looking off into the distance in the way a character from a show does when they are talking to the camera.

"Who are you talking to?" He questioned, really, this girl was something else…

"no one dear, no one…" She smiled knowingly, still gazing off into space.

Uh…huh…

England shook his head and moved to the edge of his bed, where his suit case had been sitting for a few days now. There was just a few things that needed packing and—

"What, you're not planning on leaving are you?" She questioned as the suitcase hit the top of the bed and he began to open it.

"Yes." Arthur answered.

"Hmph. Running away from our problems are we?" He glared at her, despite the fact that she was spot on…

"Yes." He finally said. Some morning he would be back in England, and worrying about other things.

About his prisoners of war…

He really was not looking forward to having to harm Japan in any way. They had been friends. But…at least Russia hadn't gotten him. The big man wouldn't have been nearly as merciless.

Yes…tomorrow he would be home…

Fantastic….


Well then~ Did i make you guys mad? I know that my friend whom i test the story on first, before i put it up hates Russia and wants to rip his throat out. I like Russia and kind of pity the poor man. but to each their own. oh! and just for your information, the more you review the more i am motivated to type and add chapters quicker~ *winks* and predictions for the next chapter?