Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya

"Amelia, what happened?" It must have been the hundredth time that Madeline had asked that same question. The pop star took a deep breath, she had been trying to watch television with her sister and put the day behind her. Well, Maddie did not give up very easily. Amelia forced a small smile.

"Nothing. Just practice with Vanya, you know…following Vargas' plan…" she tried to laugh light heartedly but it came out sounding strained. Maybe the Canadian would let the question slip. She had been asking the same question since before dinner, surely she'd have to believe the American sooner or later.

"Come on, Amé," the violet-eyed twin folded her arms resolutely. Well, it had been a nice thought.

"That's enough, Maddie," Amelia sighed, trying to end the conversation. She turned off the television and began to climb the stairs on her way to her bedroom. Her temples were beginning to ache and she could feel a dull throbbing at the back of her head. She'd returned home hours ago, tired and cross from the day's events. Though the Frenchman had been surprisingly mild and dropped the topic when she had expressed her unwillingness to talk about it, her sister was another story altogether. Though she didn't constantly question the pop star's lesson, it was the topic that always arose, impossible to evade for long.

Cool hands clasped Amelia's as she reached for the doorknob to her bedroom. "Amé, talk to me." Turning, the American saw the concern in her sister's eyes and sighed. She wasn't ready to talk about what happened and she doubted if she'd EVER admit that tears had been shed, but she couldn't just ignore Maddie.

Amelia shot a sincere smile to her sister. "I'm okay, Maddie. Really, I am. I just…had a rough day and just want to sleep." The Canadian's eyes fell to the floor in defeat as she mumbled something that Amelia could not hear. Amelia shook her head and kissed her sister's forehead. "Look, I'll tell you about it tomorrow, after my lesson with Francis." And hopefully, then I will have a happier answer to your question, she thought.

Madeline lifted her face to meet Amelia's gaze and nodded slowly. "Okay, but I'm here if you need me, Amé."

Amelia took her twin in her arms and hugged her very tightly. How did she ever get lucky enough to have a sister like Maddie?

After she bid her sister good night, Amelia quickly showered and crawled into bed. Her body ached from exertion and her headache was growing, she prayed for sleep to come quickly. Laying on her mattress, surrounded by pillows, it was as though the American's mind was determined to recall the fight in every small detail. Slowly, after much tossing and turning, Amelia fell into a troubled sleep.

"Amelia…"

The American opened her eyes, blinking wearily as she tried to wake and search for the source of the voice.

"Amelia…" the voice called again, this time a bit clearer, though the pop star still couldn't quite place it. Who could it be? Maddie? Francis?

Wait… Looking up, she realized that the ceiling she was staring at was not her own—at least, not the one she had fallen asleep under. Small, glow-in-the-dark stars hung from the ceiling above, slightly glowing in the eerie twilight. Amelia sat up and swung her legs over the tiny, twin bed. She knew this place, this had been her childhood room—the room she and Maddie had shared as little girls in the Beautiful World Talent Academy.

"Amelia…" turning to meet the voice, Amelia's eyes widened. There, standing in the doorway, calling to her softly, was Arthur. No, no, this couldn't be, not again. Before Amelia could respond, another voice answered.

"I'm coming, Big Bro!" the pop star's blood went cold. She slowly turned to see a blonde girl, just a bit smaller than herself, frantically trying to stuff the last of her belongings into a large duffel bag. There was no denying it; she was having the dream again.

Looking around, everything in the room, except for the stars and two twin beds had been stripped completely bare. The little girl slung the massive bag over her shoulder and stumbled over to where the Brit waited. Her short, wavy hair bounced as she skipped towards the Englishman. Past Amy—that was the name Amelia had long ago given to her younger, dream-self.

Amelia watched the phantoms of the past chat cheerfully and shivered as she moved to stand behind her younger-self. She remembered this day well. This was the day that she had officially been taken on with the Beasts as Arthur's protégé. She had been twelve at the time and Arthur had been sixteen—both so young, so naïve…

Her heart ached as she watched Young Arthur take the bag from her younger self and ruffle her hair. Adoration was apparent in his eyes. "Let's go, Amelia," Past Arthur said, smiling kindly, "we mustn't keep the others waiting. They are anxious to meet you."

Past Amy grinned widely and nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!" she agreed, hugging Arthur's arm and allowing him to lead her out of the room and down the hall, like a little puppy. She never even looked back, not once.

The American shook her head and ran a hand through her hair as she watched her past-self fawn over the young rocker. The way she looked at him…it was as though she believed that he hung the moon and the stars—always existing just beyond her reach…

"Good luck," Amelia murmured, reaching a hand out to the two fated youth. She knew that they couldn't hear her; this wasn't the first time that she'd had this dream—not by a long shot. Amelia had lived this scene once and then had come back to witness it in replay more times than she could count. It was a bittersweet dream, filled with the things that they had done and said so long ago. However, the nineteen-year-old Amelia knew what happened at the end of this nightmare and she wanted out.

"Okay, Amy, time to wake up," she commanded, punching herself in the head, "wake up!" Her fist made contact with the side of her head but she felt nothing. Typical, in dreams you couldn't feel pain. She was trapped, just like every other time she'd had this dream before—not that it would stop her from trying to awaken. "Wake up, wake up!" she screamed. If she couldn't wake up soon, she would be lost to the dream.

Wake up! The world around her began to shift, making her more desperate to awaken and escape the visions that haunted her. Wake up, wake up! Too late, the next scene was unfolding.

"Thank you, Arthur! Thank you, thank you!" Past Amy, now age thirteen, jumped up and down with excitement, clutching a brown teddy bear to her chest. The rock star had just won the teddy for her at one of the booths at a county fair—to this day, Amelia wondered how Arthur had convinced her agent to allow her to play hooky and skip her vocal and dance lessons.

"Not at all," the rock star smiled and waved his hand lazily, walking with Past Amy through the various booths and exhibits. "You deserve a day off every now and again." He patted the young teen's head and she grinned.

The pop star smiled in spite of herself; watching the scene unfold.

You were so happy, so loved…

Amelia frowned, closed her eyes, and shook her head.

When she again opened her eyes, Amelia found that she was standing next to Past Arthur, admiring the inventory of small trinkets at one of the many booths that had come to sell their wares. She had taken the place of Past Amy and was now experiencing the memories firsthand. Yes, she remembered this too, it always happened this way.

Looking at Arthur, Amelia noticed how young he really was—seventeen. He was still as slender as the Arthur she knew in the present: he had the same lime-green eyes; the same cheekbones and jaw line; the same shaggy blond hair…

He turned and smirked at her. "Do you like that, Amelia?"

No! No, she didn't like it, uh—him! Not in that way!

Oh, wait. Amelia noted that Arthur was looking at what she held in her hands; a small metal ring with the silhouette of a teddy bear on top. She hadn't even noticed that she had been holding the trinket. It was the very ring that she was—er—had been wearing.

"Yes, I do," Amelia responded in a shy voice, forced to play the part as it had happened years ago.

"Are you sure that you wouldn't prefer one of these rings?" Past Arthur asked, motioning to a more expensive selection of rings. It was true, those rings were made with better materials and the ring that she held had been in a basket clearly meant for young children. But she didn't care; the teddy bear was the one for her. Besides, it was the same shape as the one Arthur had just won for her—it was a teddy bear she could carry with her always.

Amelia nodded resolutely. The phantom before her smirked and paid the vendor for the childish piece of jewelry. "Alright, let me see." Arthur took the hoop from the girl's hands and gently pinched the metal so that it would fit his Little Sister's slim finger. "There." He muttered, once he was satisfied with his work.

Crap! She needed to focus! Amelia shook her head; she had almost been lost to the dream. Wake up, you idiot! Wake up! Arthur smiled at her and pulled her right hand into his.

Heat grew in the American's cheeks as she watched the Brit gingerly slide the ring onto her finger. It was so shiny and new, hard to believe that that same ring was now so bent and tarnished with wear.

Before she knew what she was doing, Amelia found herself on her tiptoes, pressing her lips chastely to the Brit's jaw line. She had been aiming for his cheek, but she wasn't quite tall enough to reach it. "Thanks, Artie!" she cheered, adoring the small teddy on her finger.

"Arthur," he gently corrected, resting a hand on her head. "You're welcome, Love."

The colors of his face blurred for a moment before the world shifted again. They were no longer at a fair together. Now they were standing in the foyer of the Beautiful World Talent Agency. Amelia's heart was pounding and her eyes stung as she fought back tears.

"Do you really have to go?" she pleaded, clinging to Arthur's hand and looking desperately into his eyes.

The Englishman ran his free hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, Love. We have a few concerts in the U.K. this week."

"Then take us with you!" she begged, squeezing his hand harder. Without her Big Brother, she and Maddie would be very lonely, not to mention their agent would have control over the time Arthur usually had to spend with them as their Big Brother. That meant extra training on top of school and their formal classes—no fun at all. With an agent like that…who would ever want to be a pop star?!

Arthur looked up and past the American, no doubt glancing to the tyrant himself, determining if he would allow the girls to accompany the band. She could tell by the Brit's face what the answer had been—what it always had been and always would be. "Not this trip, Poppet." He murmured some more soft words that Amelia couldn't seem to hear. All that mattered was that he was leaving…again…

She watched his back as he and the other Kirklands walked out the door—all wearing long, red coats. She saw them climb into the waiting car outside and held out her hand as though to stop the car from pulling away. And then…he was gone…

The scene before her melted away until all that was left was shadows. She was alone. The emptiness was stifling and Amelia felt as though she couldn't breathe.

Then, there it was…the door she'd seen so many times before. It was tall and foreboding, painted in a deep, blood red. No, no! Don't reach for the knob! Amelia's heart beat faster… There was something awful behind that door…something she didn't want to see… No, don't open the door, don't open—

"NO!" She sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath. She had meant to scream, but her voice was but a thin croak. Glancing around to room, Amelia shivered and reached over to turn on her lamp.

The light was welcomed as it chased away the specters of the dream that lingered once the American awoke. Covered in sweat, Amelia couldn't stop shivering, it was as though her body couldn't decide whether she was hot or cold. She had known that the nightmare was a distinct possibility after the day's events, but this knowledge never dulled the anxiety and pain that so often accompanied the dream.

Glancing to the clock on her bedside, she scowled. "Damn-it…" It was only three o' clock—a full six hours before she was supposed to be at the opera house for Francis' lesson. Rubbing her eyes, Amelia growled and regarded her options. One, she could try to go back to sleep and pray that the nightmare did not resume—ha! That wasn't going to happen.

Or two, get up and try to survive the day with only a few hours of sleep. Neither option was good, but there was no way in hell that she was going back to sleep. Just the thought of turning out the lights and closing her eyes seemed to invite memories that she'd rather not recall at the moment.

Getting up, she pulled some clothes from the closet, not even caring what they were. She showered once more to clean the cold sweat from her body and crept downstairs to get something to eat.

"Maybe eggs," she muttered rummaging through the impeccably neat refrigerator, and taking out a few ingredients. Francis took his duty to the kitchen very seriously; absolutely nothing was out of place. Opening a cupboard to retrieve a skillet, Amelia was surprised to see that there was not a pot or a pan to be found. "What the hell?" she murmured aloud slightly annoyed. Had Francis been reorganizing the kitchen?!

Suddenly, she spied a piece of paper sitting ostentatiously in the center of the cupboard that used to hold her pots and pans. Taking the paper in her hands, she realized that it appeared to be a handmade card, with a picture of what she assumed to be a self portrait of Francis on the top. Raising an eyebrow, Amelia opened the card and read the curly-scripted message within:

"There will be NO Arthurs cooking in MY kitchen, Lapin!

All of the pots, pans, bowls, and other cookware have been taken to

my room for safe keeping.

Bon Appétit!"

Amelia stared at the card blankly for a few moments before throwing it back in the cupboard with a huff. She swore she could almost hear the Frenchman's annoying, stereotypical laugh at the end of the note. Apparently Francis had a contingency plan for when—uhh…if—the Englishman returned and tried to invade the kitchen again.

"Cold cereal it is…" she sighed, walking to the pantry, relieved that it wasn't booby trapped by the Frenchman.

Thankful that there were still cereal bowls and spoons in the kitchen, Amelia settled down at the table for her lonely meal. The house was too quiet for her taste, although knowing that Maddie and Francis were sleeping in the rooms nearby was comforting, it was too still. What was she going to do while she waited for the others to wake up?

Taking her cell and scrolling through social media, Amelia suddenly had an idea. Scooping some cereal into her mouth, the pop star exited out of her apps and began to compose a message.

Amelia: Hey, you up?

She placed her phone down and stared at it expectantly. Was it too much to hope for? She twisted the teddy bear ring around her finger. Come on, dude!

A loud jingle announced the arrival of a new message. Nearly squealing in delight, Amelia snatched the mobile from the tabletop and opened the message.

Gilly: Kesse! It is unawesome to awaken the Awesome Me so early in the morning! What do you want?!

Amelia smirked and took another bite of breakfast before replying to the albino's message.

Amelia: You up for an early morning adventure at the Opera House?

Gilly: Are you asking me to steal Vati's keys and loiter in the Opera House with you?

Amelia: Well…if you don't think you're AWESOME enough to handle it…:3

Gilly: Suck it, LOSER! See you in an hour.

The American fist pumped silently, she knew Gil wouldn't let her down.

After taking her bowl to the kitchen and placing it in the dishwasher, Amelia rushed up to her room. Grabbing her jacket and her bag, Amelia scrawled a quick note to her sister before running down the stairs, attaching the note to a bottle of maple syrup, and bounding out the door.

"So, tell me, why are you hanging out with Kirkland, again?" Gilbert drawled, his silvery hair dusty and his cheeks smeared with dirt. Amelia guessed that she didn't look much better, crawling around behind and under the stage was dirty work. On the bright side, she was fairly sure that they had successfully found all of the secret passageways and trapdoors that the stage had to hide.

Struggling with a cobweb caught in her hair, Amelia shrugged. "The Prez seems to be under the impression that the Agency needs a paparazzi boost…"

The Albino gave a low whistle, "And you agreed to be the sacrificial lamb? That's rough…" he stretched and tried to stifle a yawn.

"Don't do that, Gil," Amelia yawned. They had been exploring for a few hours now and it was nearing seven o' clock. She stretched her sore muscles and fought against the exhaustion that weighed in her bones.

"Nightmares again, huh?"Gilbert raised a pale brow before turning and walking to the edge of the stage.

Amelia nodded. "Yeah, you got it," she admitted, following the German. "I didn't want to wake Maddie, you know how she worries…"

"Ja," Gil nodded, hopping off the stage. "How is the little birdie?" He asked, offering a hand to Amelia.

The American ignored the hand and leapt off the stage by herself, sticking the landing right next to her friend. "If you're asking if there is any chance that she'll date you, don't get your hopes up. She's still pretty pissed that you said that Emma's waffles were the best. In Maddie's book, that's high treason against pancake kind." Amelia smirked, it was adorable how worked up her sister could get over the weirdest of things. "Besides, aren't you chasing after Ms. Elizabeta these days?"

"Kessesse! The Awesome Me chases after no one!" Amelia rolled her eyes at the Albino's declaration. "Besides, they were Belgian Waffles, how could I resist?" Gilbert flopped down on one of the auditorium seats, right in front of the orchestra area.

Once again, Amelia rolled her eyes and yawned, falling into a seat right next to Gilbert. "I'll be sure to let her know…" She said dryly, leaning her head against Gilbert's shoulder. "We have two more hours before Arthur and Francis arrive, what should we do next?" There was no answer. Looking up, Amelia saw that the platinum blond had dozed off in the few minutes they had been sitting in the chairs. Immediately, the American jabbed him hard in the ribs, "Gil!"

"OWW!" The boy yelped, muttering in German under his breath. "Little Bird, surely a nap couldn't hurt." Amelia looked at him skeptically. Gilbert grinned, "I'll be here to chase the bad dreams away!"

Amelia bit her lip. She was really tired…maybe the dream wouldn't return. It had been over four hours since she'd woken from the nightmare…

"Fine," she conceded, resting against the German and closing her eyes. "But wake me up if anything happens."

"Of course," The platinum blond nodded, yawning.

It didn't take long before they were fast asleep.

There it was…the blood red door. Amelia's hand quivered. It was the dead of night and Francis was waiting outside with the car, ready to leave at anytime. Tomorrow was the final court date, the day (with any luck) that she would be free.

She hadn't told anyone that she was leaving the dorm; not Alastair, not Arthur, not even Maddie. Leaving would just be too painful. Though…if she were being honest, this felt as though she were running away. Hell, she WAS running away. She had to…if she didn't Arthur would succeed in convincing her to stay. In truth, she didn't want to leave, but…

The door seemed to beckon to her. Taking a breath and remembering that Francis wouldn't wait forever, Amelia turned the handle, stomach twisting as the door creaked open. Light spilled into the room and the girl could hear soft snoring from within.

She walked into the room, heart pounding against her rib cage. Coming to a bed, she wondered momentarily if she should run.

The sleeper's breath hitched and Amelia froze, praying that he wouldn't wake up. She just needed to say goodbye; that was all. As the breathing resumed, Amelia worked up the courage to sneak closer. Not only would the Frenchman grow impatient but the longer she lingered, the higher her chances of being caught—she had to be quick.

Looking down, Amelia felt her lips pucker into a small pout. On the bed, Arthur lay curled into himself, knees pressed to his chest, arms clinging to a pillow, a scowl on his sleeping face. He was breathing hard—most likely having a vivid dream, a bad one by the looks of it.

Amelia cautiously reached out a hand. When the sleeper did not wake, she gently stroked her fingers through his messy hair. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am."

She could smell rum on him. Alastair, Dylan, and Reiley had all gone out to try to get their youngest band mate's mind off of what she was about to do. Apparently, all they'd been able to do was let him drink himself to sleep.

In the dim light streaming in from the door, the girl could just make out the silvery lines across his cheek bone that suggested dried tears. Oh God, why had she decided to do this?! She should have run when she had the chance! Best to make this quick and leave without causing anymore damage.

Kneeling down, she looked his features over: soft lashes resting on cheek bones; smooth, pale skin...

"Goodbye, Arthur…" She regarded his slightly parted lips. It would be so easy… She shook her head. No, but that would be wrong! Instead, she ran her fingers through his hair once more before kneeling down and placing a tender kiss on his temple.

Biting her lip and fighting tears, she prepared to stand and leave when a hand caught her wrist.

"Amelia..?"

No… She slowly turned to see him looking up, green eyes trained on her. "Arthur, I…" she stopped. There was no light in his eyes, no recognition. He was asleep, wasn't he?

Before she knew what was happening, a hand cupped her cheek and two soft, warm lips met hers. Her heart skipped a beat before taking off like a runaway train. Though it was startling, Amelia slowly closed her wide eyes and let the kiss happen. Surprisingly she couldn't taste the alcohol on his breath; all she could taste was the salt of tears and the wrenching ache of sorrow and loss.

Gently, his lips were pulled away. Amelia opened her eyes to meet his, fresh tears pooled around green irises. The Brit's eyes were unfocused, if sad. Guilt flooded her senses, had she just taken advantage of his state? He was definitely still half asleep, unlikely to remember any of this in his stupefied condition she should have pulled away. But, she hadn't wanted to...

"Lay down, Arthur," she murmured, stroking his hair once more, applying slight pressure to guide him down to his bed. He didn't fight it, rather he laid his head on the pillow with tears dropping and staining the sheets. It wouldn't take long, he was already blinking slowly as his body tried to reclaim sleep.

"Amelia…" he murmured weakly, moving to touch her hand that had begun to wipe away his tears.

"Shhh…" she shushed him, his hand clasped over hers.

As his eyes closed once more, she placed his hand on the pillow, but continued to stroke his cheeks with her thumb until his breathing evened once again. This time, tears cascaded down her cheeks and she covered her mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs that threatened to rack her body…

"Amelia…" a voice called her from the void. Damn that dream. Damn the ghosts of the past...

Her eyes slid easily wake and she could feel very real tears streaming down her cheeks. Blinking, she tried to catch her breath as the vestiges of the dream flittered away. She attempted to move her hand to brush the droplets away, only to find that someone was holding her hands.

Looking up, her eyes latched to a pair of lime green irises staring her own blue ones.

As always, thank you all for reading, favoriting, and/or following this story :3

A special thank you goes out to WhiteXTrainer00, Darkabyssoflove, and guest for commenting. It is so good to know that you like what has been written for this story! I hope that this chapter stands up to your expectations. Again, thank you!

To the guest (is that you Buttery Toast Babe? If so, welcome back!), sorry for the wait. This chapter was difficult to write-though I suppose I think that of every chapter.

Wow! Chapter 10! I never imagined I'd get this far or continue this far. That's pretty cool :)

Anyway, I hope the layout of this chapter wasn't too confusing. A lot of exposition here, though I thought it would be good to add a little background information for Amelia. What do you think?

Gilbert: Prussia

Emma: Belgium

Elizabeta: Hungary

'Til Next Time! Xoxo

Published 26/1/2017