I was feeling very generous (bored) and I decided to post another chapter!

Arthur: But you posted one yesterday.

Me: Why are you complaining?

Arthur: I'm not.

Me: Good because I don't think the others are *nervous laugh* Right? ^_^;;

Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, *glances at Arthur* I decided to post another chapter; maily because my brain said "write and forget summer homework." Stupid involuntary writing impulses... Now, there is a fight scene and I'm sorry if it is not up to par with other fight scenes in other fics. I don't write out fights very often and they're far too complicated and troublesome.

I hope you enjoy anyway!

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own Hetalia. But I am working on that.

Warning: *attempted* angst, language, violence, etc. (you get the point)

Blurred

Chapter Ten

War

"Matthew, how could you- I thought- I thought it was Ivan!" Arthur said.

"Ivan was trying to warn you imbeciles!" Matthew cackled. "It's a shame you didn't listen to him. Now Alfred is going to pay the ultimate price."

Arthur turned to look at Ivan but the Russian had suddenly vanished.

"Why are you doing this, Matthew? What happened to you?" Francis questioned, not wanting to see the pitiless look in his lover's eyes.

No.

No, that wasn't the sweet Canadian he fell in love with. The man they were watching was a monster. The Canadian's voice wasn't the gentle tone it always held, even if he was angered. His eyes were wild and bloodthirsty as he looked at them like they were a piece of meat.

Matthew's body had become nothing but an empty shell for this man to wreak havoc in.

"Might as well not call me Matthew; he's not here. And he's not coming back," the Canadian said.

"Why are you doing this?" Ludwig repeated Francis's earlier question.

"And here comes the interrogation with the same inane questions. You all watch far too many movies. Too bad those movies have a happy ending. This one doesn't."

The baby in Arthur's womb was kicking ferociously now. He was sensing his mother's distress and didn't like it. Arthur placed his hand on his stomach in attempt to calm it but to no avail.

"Now, gentlemen, kick back and enjoy the show. It's going to be one hell of a ride," Matthew sneered.

"Alfred! Alfred, wake up!" Arthur cried, hoping the American would hear him. He had to help Alfred get out of there. The American was strong- much stronger than Matthew. But Alfred was unaware of his own power.

Matthew chuckled, deciding it was time for the fun to begin. "You heard the man. Wake up!"

The Canadian landed a solid blow to Alfred's face, jolting his brother awake and his glasses clattered to the floor. The pain came soon after he regained consciousness, causing Alfred to whimper a bit as blood seeped from the crevice of his mouth. It tasted horrible in his mouth, a taste he couldn't quite place. Alfred's hazy vision made his head swim (or was the blow to the head he received earlier from Antonio the cause of this?)

Nevertheless, Alfred was completely out of it.

Until he heard a voice.

A voice that seemed to come from the shadows.

An angelic voice.

One that he hadn't heard in far too long.

"Alfred!"

"Arthur…" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Alfred, wake up! Please!"

Matthew remained hidden in the darkness, watching this unfold with an amused look.

"Arthur… Arthur, is that you?" Alfred lifted his head and gazed at the computer screen.

"Yes, love. It is."

"Where am I?" the American was now fully conscious and was beginning to panic and tug at the ropes that were binding his hands together as he scrutinized his surroundings. "Arthur, help me! Please!"

Tears cascaded down Alfred's flushed face as his head fell forward, the tears glistening in the light. It tore Arthur apart to see the younger man like this. He hated to watch Alfred breaking down like this, crying his name and begging for the Englishman to save him.

"Alfred. Alfred, love, look at me," Arthur said calmly though his tone betrayed his feelings.

The American's head lifted up and his ocean eyes peered at the computer screen. He caught the sad expression that was painted on Arthur's face even with that smile.

"I will come for you, Alfred. You believe me, don't you?"

Alfred nodded his head shakily.

"I need you to be brave, love. Can you do that for me?"

Alfred nodded once again.

"I love you, Alfred. So much."

The American's head snapped up. Had he heard right? Arthur said he loved him. Alfred felt like crying again, this time out of happiness. It felt like he had waited an eternity to hear those words. The younger didn't know what to say; so he said the first thing that came into his mind:

"I love you, too."

"Aw, how touching. I think I'm starting to tear up," Matthew's voice was full of sarcasm as he slowly emerged from the obscurities of the room, twirling a bat in his right hand.

Arthur's eyes widened and he cringed as he heard the bat make contact with Alfred's body, hearing a sickening crack in the process.

"However I think this will cheer me up," Matthew struck Alfred again. "If you're going to come and get him, Arthur, you'd better hurry or you'll be arranging a funeral and celebrating the birth of your son alone."

The American cried out in pain, his yells ripping through his throat as Matthew continued this relentless beating. The wood began splintering against Alfred's body, muffling out the crack of Alfred's bones.

The screen went black.

Arthur bolted to the door but Kiku grabbed his arm.

"No, Arthur-san, you must not go. You'd be playing right into his hands."

"Let me go! I have to save him!" Arthur tried prying his arm from the Japanese man's tight grip.

"We'll go," Ludwig spoke up, referring to him and Francis.

"But you don't even know where they're at. If you search blindly, Alfred will be dead by the time you get there," Kiku reasoned.

"I believe I can be of assistance," a new voice came from the doorway.

All heads whipped around as Antonio was standing in the doorjamb with a half-conscious Lovino Vargas in his arms.

"What do you mean you can help us?" Arthur watched as Antonio placed his Italian lover on the couch.

"Because," the brunette began, "I'm the one who took Alfred to him."

"You did what!" Arthur's voice raised an octave.

"Matthew was holding Lovino hostage-"

"That is still not a satisfactory reason for me!"

"You didn't allow me to finish," Antonio said coldly, hinting at Arthur to shut up. "I managed to buy Alfred some time and a means of escape."

"How?" Arthur wondered.

Antonio smiled.

Matthew had stopped the unrelenting attacks due to the bat beginning to break and the fact that he wanted Alfred to writhe in pain for as long as possible. The Canadian had left the room and had gone to his car that was parked in the back of the abandoned building.

Alfred sobbed quietly though on the inside he was screaming for help… for Arthur. But he had to be brave. Arthur was counting on him to be strong. The American shifted uncomfortably in the chair and wiggled his wrists. He hissed in pain as the rope began biting into his skin and cutting it.

Blood was dripping onto his white shirt from his cuts and battered face and sweat drenched the clothing.

Alfred took in wheezy breaths and shifted around again. Was he sitting on something? The American scooted to the very back of the chair to give his hands better access so he could grab whatever he was sitting on. Alfred felt something sticking out of his back pocket.

It was cold like metal.

The American succeeded in pulling the item out and felt it in his hands, trying to get a mental image.

It was a pocketknife.

How in the world did it get there?

Did Antonio slip it into his pocket while he was unconscious? Regardless of who had done it, Alfred was completely in their debt. He thanked them mentally and cautiously opened it, the blade shining in the light. The American proceeded in severing the ropes but halted when he heard the door open.

Alfred hid the knife in the palms of his hands, making sure he had a good grip on it before resuming the slumped over position he was in before Matthew left.

"Miss me?" Matthew smirked, now holding a metal bat in his hands. "This should last a whole lot longer."

The American raised his head and glared at the man who was his flesh and blood.

"Such a ferocious look in your eyes, Alfred. I suggest you straighten up-"

"My life means nothing to me," Alfred growled. His sky blue eyes had darkened to an ocean hue.

The intensity in Alfred's voice made him sound like a completely different person. It had deepened a little but enough for Matthew to notice.

"Does your son's life matter?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"My son? What're you talking about? I don't have a son," the American's eyes lightened with confusion.

"Oh, yes you do. The child in Arthur's womb? That's your son," Matthew replied, now wanting to screw with the American's head.

"No, it can't be. Arthur's boyfriend is the father- not me," Alfred stared at the Canadian with a perplexed look.

"You truly are an idiot, aren't you? Haven't you figured it out yet? You are Arthur's boyfriend. Why do you think he isn't happy when you're around? Why do you think he seems so sad all the time? It's because you forgot about him and your son! That's why he said you 'complicated things.' He was going to make you leave. He hates you!"

"No!" Alfred's yell echoed against the walls.

"Oh, yes, Alfred. It's true. All of it is true. And not only will I be doing Arthur a favor by getting rid of you, I will have gotten rid of the most powerful country in the world and then I can work my way to the top by destroying the others. No one likes you, Alfred. You're loud, obnoxious and overbearing. Everyone will be glad that you're gone."

Alfred lowered his head and his shoulders shook a bit.

Was he chuckling?

The American lifted his head, his eyes back to their ocean blue. "It must really suck to be left behind in the dust, huh? You're jealous because I was always one step ahead of you in the game and you could never seem to catch up to me. How does it feel to be living in the shadow of your own brother?

"You're a coward, Matthew. You've stooped so low to attack the most powerful country in the world when he can't defend himself. And even if you do manage to get rid of me, there are still the other nations you have to worry about. You'd cause a World War III and there's no way in hell you're getting out of that alive."

This earned Alfred a strike to his ribcage with the bat, cracking another rib. The American coughed up drops of blood as he felt the bones crunch and grind against one another in his body.

Alfred didn't know who was telling him to say these things but he trusted that voice. It was telling him to try and get a rise out of Matthew.

And it was working.

Extremely well, at that, Alfred thought while gritting his teeth.

"You're pretty arrogant, aren't you?" Matthew was breathing deeply, struggling to keep his anger under control.

"You're attacking the most powerful nation in the world when he can't fight back. If that's not arrogance, I don't know what is."

Alfred began fidgeting with the knife again and started to cut the ropes. He watched Matthew all the while, smirking at him. The Canadian's blood began to boil as he struck Alfred again; a filter of red was all he was seeing as he was blinded by rage at his American brother's antics.

He repeated this process even when the chair Alfred was seated on fell over. Matthew didn't care. The combined sounds of Alfred crying out in pain, the metal bat clinking, and the shattering of his bones was like a symphony to him. It was calming. He was enjoying this far more than he should have.

Despite the pain, Alfred continued cutting the ropes binding his hands slowly but surely. Just as he severed the last one and lifted himself off the floor, a blow to his torso sent him skidding across the ground and coming to a stop when he hit the wall.

The American panted heavily, trying to stand on his shaking legs.

Matthew picked up the knife off the floor, examining it. "Where in the hell did you get this?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm free," Alfred said, steadying himself.

"You're a cornered rat. You can't beat me," Matthew spat, dropping the bat to the floor.

"You'll never really know for sure until I try."

"By all means try."

Alfred and Matthew charged for each other at the same time, the adrenaline making the former forget his injuries for the time being. Matthew was the first to attack and Alfred swiftly evaded it, the knife whizzing past and only slicing strands of his wheat colored hair.

Alfred swung and Matthew ducked.

The American then brought his knee up and met with the muscled flesh of Matthew's stomach.

The air left Matthew's lungs just as quickly as it came and the Canadian toppled to the floor, letting out a soft "oof." The American hit him harder than he thought.

Alfred was oblivious to the immense power he wielded.

Matthew wriggled on the floor as he tried to catch his breath and Alfred was leaning against the wall, the pain of his injuries returning. The Canadian stood, coming back for more. His brother, however, could not see clearly without his glasses but was equally ready.

They lunged for each other again, aiming to cause more harm to their enemy. Alfred was giving it all he had in each punch, kick, and block.

So was his brother.

With another punch thrown that connected with Matthew's jaw, the Canadian slid on the floor, kicking up dust. Matthew grabbed the bat nearby and began fighting with both weapons, now becoming a triple threat to Alfred.

Alfred's (sudden) inexperience with fighting caused him to make sloppy moves.

And Matthew didn't hesitate to dig the knife into Alfred's side.

Alfred hissed but grabbed Matthew's wrist and forced him to pull the knife out.

The blood flowed freely from the wound, running down Alfred's leg.

As their quarrel continued, the American was more focused on dodging the knife rather than the bat and Matthew's kicks.

However, it cost him when Matthew had managed to land a blow to Alfred's head with the bat.

Alfred collapsed to the floor, his mind drifting.

"Say goodbye," Matthew drew back his right hand, the one that sported the knife.

"I don't think so," a gloved hand grasped Matthew's wrist, twisting it such a way that made Matthew let go of the knife.

Ludwig struck the Canadian on the back of his neck, automatically causing Matthew become nothing more than a blonde mess on the floor.

"He's over here!" he heard someone call.

Francis?

Then, an angelic face with blonde unkempt hair and dazzling green eyes was the only thing he saw before losing himself in the familiar abyss of shadows once more.

"Alfred!"

Fight scene written. Fight scene failed. Can I get a round of applause please?

*a tomato lands on my head*

I'm gonna get you for that, Romano! Well, we had a bit more action in this chapter and a lot of abuse.

Ah, brotherly love /shot.

Oh and I wanna make a quick DBZ reference (for those of you that watch it). The whole "trying" bit came from the DBZ movie Cooler's Revenge so I gotta give credit to it.

I hope you enjoyed! Please review! They mean alot!

Arigatou~

This is Crimson-chan signing out!

Ja Ne!