I've been very excited to write this chapter for well over a year now. This is a key pivotal point in the story. And it wasn't some random idea I had halfway through or anything. It was always going to play out this way, right from the very beginning.

Warnings: ... Well, actually, just expect the usual, plus worse. I don't want to spoil it.

Allons-y!

Ten

Broken

It's quiet now.

I can still see the sun setting through the barred window. It's beautiful. I wasn't sure anything could still be beautiful. Then I saw him again, saw those eyes of his. Still full of willpower. He won't break. I can't let them break him.

Those blue eyes are staring at me right now. I want to look back at them but I'm too bloody scared to do anything. The Master's words terrify me. I don't know what to do.

'England?'

It's just us, alone in the cell. We're not required until tomorrow. He's leaning against the wall on his side of the cell, I'm leaning against mine. And I have nothing left to hide.

'Are you just gonna ignore me again?'

'… No,' I say finally.

He doesn't say anything at first. I think he's surprised that I am acknowledging him now. 'Why didn't he kill me?' he asks finally.

'He wasn't going to,' I reply. 'It was a ruse. He wanted to get to me.'

'Get to you how?'

'He was trying to break my act. And… he… succeeded.'

'What act?'

'The 'I hate you and want you dead' act. Perhaps I should have used those exact words. Though they wouldn't have sounded very convincing. I don't think I could have managed it. He wouldn't have bought it either way. Worked on you, though, didn't it?' I look up at him.

He's frowning at me. 'Those things you said to me…'

I force myself to keep looking at him. 'He kills them. He kills everyone. But he likes to play with some of them first. He likes to break people. He wants to break me. He's been trying since the beginning. He knows how to do it, too. He hasn't succeeded yet, but he's almost there. He'll hurt and kill anyone to do it. The people around me. The people that help me. The people I care about. Anyone who matters to me.'

'So…'

'So I thought, if he believed you didn't matter to me, he wouldn't hurt you,' I admit. 'It's less likely for him to hurt someone I dislike because he thinks it won't have the desired effect on me. He'll do anything to try and break me. I didn't want him using you to do it. I'm… I'm sorry.'

America is still frowning, but I can see something else on his face now. His eyes are betraying him. They look relieved. I've made him happy. I feel better for it myself.

'You didn't mean any of it, then?' he says hopefully. 'The things you said to me?'

There's a lump in my throat. Don't you dare, I scold myself. I still won't let myself cry. 'No, of course not, fool,' I say, managing a small smile. 'Well, except one thing.'

His face falls. 'What?'

I try to keep my voice steady. 'Why the hell did you have to get captured? You were supposed to stay safe down there.'

He glares at me. 'Safe? How the hell was I supposed to be safe back on the ground? You have no idea what it's like down there.'

I scowl back. 'Yeah, I do, actually. I escaped here back in August and went down to the ground and saw for myself. But you weren't locked up down there, you were free.'

'I was always having to run and hide!' he says angrily, pushing himself away from the wall and striding over to the centre, as far as the chain will allow him to go. 'I was being hunted the whole damn time! And seeing as you're back up here, you obviously got caught.'

'But not before I found others,' I say in a controlled voice. 'A refugee camp in London. The Master had everyone slaughtered for harboring me. I had to run, too. I found other nations, France and the others, and they helped me. The Master found me and brought me back. And he had those nations killed too. I told you, the Master kills anyone who helps me.'

'Then you do know,' America says in a pained murmur. 'There were loads of them, so many other countries, and I couldn't… I couldn't do anything…' And once again I feel terrible because I remember all those horrible things I had to yell at him, about how he couldn't save anyone.

'The Master has this sick sense of irony too,' he continues. 'Did you know he burned the Vatican to the ground on Christmas day? He targeted Japan's own Nuclear reactors to blow up the country. He knocked down the Statue of Liberty on my birthday.'

I run my hands through my hair, biting my lip. 'Yeah, sorry about that. It was my fault.'

He stares at me. 'What?'

He's already angry enough already, and now he's about to find out that I'm the reason his beloved statue collapsed. 'The Master did it because of an action I took. He was punishing you to punish me.'

America's voice is very quiet. 'What did you do?'

I look down at the ground, closing my eyes. 'I, um… I lit some fireworks.'

There's silence for a few seconds as I wallow in my self-hatred and remorse, then I hear the last thing I ever would have expected.

Laughter.

America is laughing.

'Seriously?' His voice is still quiet but it doesn't sound angry anymore. It sounds like how it used to sound. How it should be.

'Y-yes.'

America sinks to his knees, grinning widely. 'You lit fireworks on my birthday?' he chuckles.

'America… you loved that statue. You shouldn't find this funny; I'm the reason it was knocked down and- why are you still laughing?!'

His smile is the most refreshing and captivating thing I've seen in such a long time. 'You- you celebrated my birthday. My independence day!' he gasps between bouts of laughter.

I can feel my own lips twitching into a smile now. 'Yes, and?'

'Tell you what, Iggy: I prefer your sense of irony to the Master's, any day,' he giggles. And just like that, I'm laughing too. I can't help it. I also can't help leaving my spot and moving over towards America. I'm not going to push him away this time. Like I said, I have nothing left to hide. Nothing to lie about.

I accept the hug with open arms. Literally. For the first time in months, I don't flinch at the touch of someone else like I do whenever the Master comes near me. I let America wrap his arms around me and I relax as I rest my head against his chest. He places his head against my shoulder and I keep my hands pressed against his back, clutching onto the fabric of his bomber jacket.

We stay like this for a while, and we're both still laughing. For me, it's out of relief. Because America's here, and I know that's bad because he was meant to be free on the ground, but he's here. He's here, with me. Alive. Safe. America.

We talk for a while. Mostly about what happened to him on Earth. We don't talk about the details of the mission he and Martha were on because I'm still slightly paranoid about the Master possibly listening in on us. So we talk about how America survived, and who he lost. He actually managed to get to Japan on time. He apparently tried to convince the Asian nation to run, but Japan refused and insisted on staying with his people. America and Martha were the last two to make it out of the country alive before it caught flames.

He wasn't there in time for Canada. This was back in the beginning. He found France and the others, just like they told me when I was with them. He learnt that Canada was already lost. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do for so many others as well. He tried, but they all died in the end. And he and Martha had to keep moving.

At some point, I start doing the talking. I tell him about being on the phone to Japan, about finding out about all the dead nations, about China and Russia breaking, about escaping to Earth to find it in ruins. I talk about the refugee camp and I tell him about my Queen dying and the massacre that followed soon after. I talk about France and the others in Paris, and how the Master found me and forced me to come back, and then went ahead and disposed of all the nations that helped me.

America spots the scars on my arms and asks me if the Master is responsible. I don't have to answer.

Apparently Martha told him the truth about me. It's beautifully refreshing for someone to know about all the things I've had to keep secret- the Doctor, the TARDIS, Gallifrey and the Time War, all the invasions and battles that I've always had to lie about. America believes it all. Of course he does. He's been given no choice but to accept this kind of knowledge since the Master ended the world.

The night has long since fallen and we are pressed up against the wall with the window, the wall between the two we're chained too, opposite the door. We're still pressed up against each other, not letting go. Tonight is ours. One night of peace. I don't want to have to think about tomorrow and about what the Master said to me. Tonight, it's just America and I. Only now do I fully, truly comprehend just how much I've missed him. We're the last nations on Earth now. All we have is each other.

'Don't you dare die on me, America,' I whisper.

The Master comes in the morning, like he promised.

I wasn't supposed to fall asleep last night, but both America and I evidently did. We're still leaning on each other when I am jolted awake by the door swinging open and the Master's snide voice.

'Aww, how sweet. Nice night? Come along now.'

Now is the time to let myself be afraid. Because it's finally here. The next day. The day the Master thinks I'm going to break. But I won't. No matter what happens, I won't break.

America and I are led to the observation deck once more. This time, the new black door is open and I can hear the sound of the wind howling past and the dull rumble of the engines in the distance. How high up are we? How far would it be to fall? Sometimes the Master moves the Valiant around like when he flew it over Japan when the country was on fire. Most of the time he leaves it situated over an ocean, generally the Atlantic. Perhaps the Valiant is lying low today. How low down would it have to be for a nation to survive the fall? Is there any way America and I could…?

I shake my head. It would be impossible. Besides, I left the Doctor and the Jones' behind once before and I'm not doing it again.

Like yesterday, there are no guards in here, just myself, America, the Master, the Doctor and a couple of Toclafane. The Master looks excited, which is definitely bad. He makes himself comfortable in a chair by the table and leans back, smiling.

'So, America,' he says. 'Has England told you all about his little trip to Earth?'

'Yeah,' America replies. He and I stand exactly where we are, refusing to sit down.

'And did he tell you about the refugee camp? About how he got everyone there killed?'

'You killed them-' America begins hotly.

'And how he got Spain killed too? Which started a chain, really. 'Cause Romano gave in after that, then Italy after him, then Germany and France. All from one little trigger that England began. Pretty incredible, really.'

'That's all on you,' I spit. Because even though I do know to blame myself, I don't want the Master knowing that. I won't give him the satisfaction.

'It wouldn't have happened at all if you'd just stayed up here,' the Master says indifferently. 'What did you even achieve, anyway?'

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The Master rises from his chair. 'So, I'm going to tell you both a little story. It's about a little country over a thousand years ago, wishing for a madman in a magic box to save him because the monsters were coming. It's about a liar, tricking the world into thinking he's just like the other nations. It's about the one responsible for the deaths of so many others because he's too selfish to do what's right.'

He steps forwards and looks me in the eyes. 'You could prevented a lot of suffering if you had just broken in the first place. Everyone breaks in the end. Even you. But I still haven't managed to make you give in.'

That's what so much of it has been about, hasn't it? The only way he can truly achieve global domination is if he makes everyone submit. Simply won't killing people won't work for him. He wants to force people down, to break their will. And all along, I've been refusing to do so. He's like a stubborn child who always gets what he wants.

He pulls out his laser screwdriver and in a blast of red energy I feel my chest explode in pain and I'm promptly knocked off my feet, followed by my back slamming into the ground. I can hear America calling my name but I can't reply. My breaths are choked; I'm winded.

Someone's pulling me up, gently but with a firm grip. I've lost all strength in my arms and legs. The laser screwdriver must be on a high setting- not enough to kill me, but enough to seriously incapacitate me. I've got America's support but I still try to stand on my own nonetheless.

'See, I hurt him physically and it changes nothing. He always manages to stand on his own two feet once more,' the Master says, and I can hear the irritation, clear as day in his voice. I force myself to look up at him, trying not to wince in pain.

Damn right it changes nothing. Damn right.

'And you know what? Reminding him of the part he played in all of this gets to him. I know it does.' The Master smiles cruelly. 'I can see it on his face, all the time. But he still won't submit. He still won't give in.'

I try and block out his words, focusing on standing my ground. America is right there beside me, his hand still clutching onto my arm in case I need help. I ignore the hot, wet feeling on my chest which I know is blood. I have to be strong.

'You know what could work, though?' the Master says quietly, taking a step towards me. 'You know what really might just break him in the end? I've been working on this one since the beginning, and every single time I take it into action I see his resolve weaken just a little bit more.'

He's right in front of me, reaching out with his hand to lift up my chin so I'm looking at him right in the eyes. 'How does the saying go?'

America is shaking beside me, but not out of fear. Out of fury. He can't do anything though, lest the Toclafane attack him.

'Ah yes, that's right,' the Master whispers. 'How terrible it is, to love something that death can touch.'

He means them all. My family. My friends. My fellow nations. Everyone I care about. Every single one he has killed to try and bring me apart. Everyone he has murdered in his quest to break me.

With a cry of anger, I shove him away as hard as I can without thinking. In a moment of panic, I forget what consequences this action might result in. All that matters right now is getting him away from me-

He comes back immediately with a smack to my face. My head twists around and I stumble backwards, my ears ringing in pain.

America throws a punch at the Master but one of the Toclafane crashes into his back, flinging him forwards. I'm horrified to see a slit across his bomber jacket which is quickly darkening with blood because of one of the little blades poking out of the spherical being. America groans on the floor for a second before pushing himself to his knees and turning around, only to be slammed in the chest by another Toclafane.

'No- no, stop!' I yell, intent on reaching America, but the Master grabs my arm and swings me around, grabbing me by the throat.

'I told you,' he says gleefully. 'I said today will be the day you break.'

I struggle desperately but his vice-like grip holds me in place and his laser screwdriver is being pressed against my chest, right over my heart. All he has to do is press one little button and it will all be over. Except he won't do that, not until he's broken me first.

And I know how. I've known ever since the other nation was brought in. I've been forcing it towards the back of my mind because the truth of it is so terrifying, so unimaginable…

He's not going to break me by physically hurting me. He's not going to break me by verbally hurting me either.

America.

'Get off him,' America snarls, slamming into the Master. The other nations is covered in splatters of blood from the Toclafanes' blades but he's pushed past them anyway, still focused on his fight with the Master.

'No,' I gasp. 'No, America, you mustn't- America, it's you! He's going to-'

Someone's fist slams into my jawline. The Master and America are in such a flurry of punches that I don't even have time to register whose stray attack caught me before one of the Toclafane swoops in between myself and the other two and a blade embeds its way into my skin, just under my ribcage. The blade is so thin that at first I don't actually feel any pain. As it comes out and I see my blood cascading down my shirt and onto the floor, I realise that the wound is quite deep.

But it doesn't matter.

'England!' comes a withered old voice from the corner and I turn to see the Doctor hobbling over. But he'll only want to tend to my wound and pull me out of the fight and keep me safe because he doesn't realise how unimportant all of that is.

Only one thing matters.

I dodge an attempted second attack from the Toclafane and reach America and the Master. My stomach is stinging and throbbing and I stumble a little but I manage to get a hold of America's jacket and pull him back.

'Please… listen…' I rasp. But he's not listening because now all he seems to be focused on is my wound and can't he see it doesn't matter? 'America…' He's lifting my arm around his neck. Why's he doing this? Why won't he just listen? There's something very important he has to know.

How terrible it is, to love something that death can touch.

Does he not realise what this means? Does he not know what's going to happen if I can't stop it? He's taking me over to the corner, over to the Doctor. No. No, I have to face the Master. I have to convince him not to do it.

The Doctor's reaching out for me. America rests me against the wall and the Doctor is pressing his hands against the wound.

'America… please…' I whisper but he's already let go of me. He's walking back to the Master. I can't up. I can't make my body move. The Doctor won't let me, anyway. I look up at him, and he just looks back at me with those sad eyes, a million apologies flashing through them in an instant.

The Toclafane descend on America. They slice and cut and hurt and by the end he is gasping on the floor, barely able to move. That's when the Master does it. He clicks his fingers and the large black doors swing open up to the open sky, pale and vast and so loud. He laughs and reaches down to grasp the collar of America's jacket, dragging him to his unsteady feet.

There's a scream at the bottom of my throat, working its way up. My mind and body feel like they're splitting in two. There's blood falling all around me but I still manage to make myself move. I have to get to America.

'England,' the Doctor says, and his voice breaks a little. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

America.

He's all that matters. In this never ending moment, he's all that will ever matter.

America.

The Master is pulling America away from me, closer and closer to the open doors. The wind is howling even louder than my mind. I stumble forwards, my hands outstretched. If I can just reach him, if I can just pull him back…

Pressed up against the edge, America turns his head to look back at me. His face is contorted in pain and weariness and I know in this moment that he can't fight against the Master's grip anymore.

And then something in his expression softens as he meets my gaze. His bright blue eyes seem to shine and I can see it now, as if they're mirrors. His eyes are reflecting my own resolve. All I want is it protect him, and in this moment I can see why he did it, why he kept me away from the Master and shielded me from the Toclafane and carried me to safety. Because it's the same for him as well.

All he wants is to protect me.

AMERICA.

Are those tears on his face? Why is he crying? He looks so… sorry. As if he knows what's going to happen, as if he knows he's going to be leaving me behind.

NO.

All these suppressed thoughts, the revelations I never even wanted to consider are flooding my mind and there's nothing I can do to stop any of this. America isn't struggling anymore. He's still looking straight at me and I know what's going to happen. I knew the minute I first saw America again, here on the Valiant once more. I knew what the Master was going to inevitably do. I just couldn't bear to think it. The pain and the fear was too much.

He'll do anything to break me.

America's eyes are shining just as brightly as the day I first met him.

Don't you are die on me, America. My own words are simply an echo. A mere dream.

But he's still with me.

And then he's gone.

There's no sound. I hear no noise as the Master pushes America through the door. There's no cry from the other nation. He doesn't scream, and if he does, I don't hear him. One minute he's here, and the next he's not.

Gone.

I'm at the door now, looking down into open sky. America's body has already fallen through the clouds and out of sight.

Lost.

I can't see him. Why can't I see him? Why isn't he here? Why has he gone? He's not here, with me.

He'll never be here again.

Never, ever, ever.

I fall to my knees. The world is still quiet. Of course it is- it's ended, after all.

He's never coming back.

His body will be on the ground now, tangled and broken. Lifeless. Empty. Over.

That's what everything is now. Lifeless. Empty. Over.

That's what I am. Lifeless. Empty. Over.

The ice has cracked and fallen to pieces. The waves are crashing through my head, burying what's left of me in the darkness of my mind. There are tears, but I can't feel them. I've lost, but I don't care. There's nothing left.

Thud thud thud thud. One sound has returned. The drums. Or my heartbeat. Either way, it doesn't matter. It shouldn't exist.

Everything has ended. I am broken.

Apologies for any emotional distress caused. Especially if there are tears involved. I would say a part of me broke writing it, but if I'm perfectly honest, a) as the author, I know how this will end and b) like I said earlier on, I've been planning and thinking through America's death and England breaking for a long time, so I was fully prepared for this. I still feel bad though. I really should xD

It's not only the fact that's it's America that died (that's terrible enough on its own anyway). It's also the fact that England has been taking hits throughout the whole story. Each one has chipped away at his mental barrier, weakening it more and more progressively. Each heartbreak has been building up for him inevitably breaking. And losing the very last one of his kind other than himself, not to mention the fact that it's America, is the tipping point. It is of course, eerily reflecting what is going to happen to the Doctor soon enough in the story, as I'm sure we all know what happened in the Doctor Who series 3 finale, and why it was called Last of the Time Lords.

I hope you guys can still endure this story, heartbreak and all. I'm absolutely loving to write it, and I can promise it will be over soon. Roughly two or three chapters to go, probably two. The last one is already written out, with a bittersweet ending.

Thank you so much for all the follows, favourites and reviews. Remember to drop a comment after reading if you can, and I'll see you all next time!