Forgive the late update. There's now a drawing of Teresa on my dA linked on my profile! Along with Maukaite Chikyu a la Mexicana.

The lands Alfred had acquired from Teresa stretched all the way to California and Texas, yet he felt like he had arrived at the peak of his strength. Her language lay on the tip of his tongue, adding to the myriads within him. All of that new power invigorated him for battle.

He had long since taken the wheel from Matthew, preferring his own speedy, neck-breaking driving skills to his twin's obsessively slow pace. They had no time to lose. They had to defeat Russia and try to help Mexico. Even Canada could feel the tremors befalling the nation.

"Al…Teresa was hurt badly. I don't know if she'll…"

America glared at him, his hand gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. "She'll make it, Matt." He looked completely set against any other option. "I promised…that we'd see each other again. A hero keeps his promises!"

Matthew looked down at his lap, hoping that his brash twin was right in assuming that Mexico would survive. Come to think of it neither of them knew if they were going to come out of this thing alive. Russia loomed in their minds like a dark bird of ill-omen. Teresa was already injured, probably dying. At this rate, anything could go wrong.

It was hours before they began to feel the cold winds of the north on their skin. The landscape was all white, the snow littered by blood and the bodies of the dead and wounded. They recognized the emblems of various nations, most of them from their allies.

"We're here."

It was another fortress, smaller than the recently destroyed one in the west, but still a worthy rival to Versailles. The entire building was littered with gaping, smoking holes from the shells that pummeled it.

The car came to a screeching stop, America shoving the door open and ordering his twin, "Get moving! Find France, China, any of them!"

Canada nodded, already sprinting towards Russia's stronghold.

An intricate troop layout awaited them, each unit carrying heavy artillery that was destroying the fortress. Alfred, aware of his and Canada's men joining the ambush, scanned his surroundings, searching for a familiar face.

He heard France's command, followed by an explosion and a long whistle. Alfred watched as one of the shells hit its mark, a section of wall that crumbled from the fortress, along with several soldiers that littered the ground like leaves.

Canada breathed, "Mon dieu…"

America called out as he ran towards the older nation, "Francis!" The man turned, his blue eyes widening at the sight of the twins.

"What on earth are you two doing here? Where is Angleterre?"

Closing his eyes involuntarily, Alfred answered as he took his place beside France, "He stayed behind, and his troops are defending the west. Fortress or no fortress, that's still the place where we've been holding the World Conference!"

Both Matthew and Francis stared at the young man, catching sight of that boundless determination in his eyes as he armed a rifle procured from one of the American soldiers. It was then that Francis noticed the glasses. "But those are…" His handsome face fell. "Mexique…"

Alfred did not answer and went straight to where his troops armed the artillery. Canada, opting for a machine gun, answered grimly, "She was hurt when the fortress fell. Arthur stayed with her to make sure she was okay. All of a sudden…she gave Alfred half of her territory."

France drew in a sharp breath and glanced back at the younger nation.

America expertly shouted orders, his own assault on Russia starting. Rage roared in those young eyes. A raw, intense hunger, known to every nation, called for blood.

Biting his lip, France realized just how personal this had all become for America. He turned back to the fortress, wondering how badly Mexico was injured.

HETALIA!

"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!"

"Calm down, Toris!"

"THEY DESTROYED THE KITCHEN! THAT'S IT! WE'RE SUNK!"

Raivis stared at Lithuania despairingly as the building crumbled around them. They, along with Estonia and Russia, were on the fifth story, watching the assault. Ivan sat at his desk, his gloved hands clasped before him.

Even before America and Canada had arrived, they knew Russia was doomed. The other nations had infiltrated their borders and overtook their defenses. Germany had retreated, leaving them without an ally. Russia himself seemed agitated as he relayed orders to fire, his fists shaking.

Raivis chanced a peek through a window before quickly retreating from it. He had stared directly at the tall American, and what he saw made his stomach roll unpleasantly.

He was wearing Teresa's glasses.

"She's dead," he murmured. "Teresa…is dead…America is wearing her glasses!" He fell to his knees, his shoulders shuddering.

Eduard, who was trying to salvage a priceless Faberge egg collection with glue, looked up from his work and stared at Latvia incredulously. "She…No, she cannot…" He turned to Russia, who maintained his serene smile.

The country softly said, "It is her own fault. Count yourselves lucky that you all decided to remain loyal." His smile twitched as his eyes narrowed. "So, America has more territory. A larger population. That could prove…beneficial yet unfortunate."

The three nations said nothing, even as they felt the building's foundations shake.

HETALIA!

"Fire! Keep firing!" Alfred brought his fist down, still standing as the explosions sounded around him. He watched as the bombs hit their target, his eyes catching every single piece of rubble from the building. It's coming down…I can feel it. Can you feel it too, Teresa? The new link to Mexico allowed him to feel the people's terror. The earth shook and the hurricanes took everything to the sea.

When the quake hit Mexico City, America felt the emotions like gunshots, and he nearly doubled over. He gritted his teeth and gripped his rifle, thinking not about a broken Mexico. He thought about the vibrant young woman who laughed good-naturedly at his horror in the theater, and then of the green mountains that told the story of the warrior sitting vigil for his beloved princess. She was smiling back then. She always smiled, especially when she was telling me a story…

Alfred thought of her rosy lips, frozen in that smile as he leaned in closer. All he had managed was a kiss on her soft cheek, but it was enough to send him into frenzy afterwards when he thought about it. She has really soft skin.

He suddenly heard a command given in broken Russian, then caught sight of a dark shape speeding through the air towards them. The soldiers began to scatter, the commanders trying to maintain order as the shell passed over them.

America ducked, along with his men and the other countries, waiting for the explosion.

The sudden burst of dusty wind nearly knocked the prostrated men aside, but hundreds of objects whistled through the polluted, snow-filled air. In a single instant, debris hit those caught off-guard, and Alfred heard the screams around him.

He recognized Matthew's broken voice, "Alfred! Hurry! France's hit!"

Alfred straightened and spotted his brother crouched over the older nation. Matthew's forehead was cut and bleeding, but Francis was unconscious, his face pale and covered in dirt and a dark red spot spreading on his dark green uniform. The Canadian was trying to stop the bleeding with his jacket as Alfred kneeled down next to him. "Is there an exit wound?"

His brother's grimy hands shook as they became wet with his former caretaker's blood. "I…I couldn't…There wa…wasn't any…" He was cut off by a sudden grunt of pain from Francis. Alfred held him still and firmly said to Matthew, "Keep putting pressure. That's it…"

Canada nodded, his glasses threatening to fall off his nose as he leant over Francis. A minute later China and Japan arrived and took over for Matthew, getting to work on the injured nation. Alfred pulled his twin away from Francis' muffled screams—there was no morphine available—and continued their attack on the half destroyed fortress.

It was Canada who yelled one of the last orders to his army, "Keep shooting! Give it all we've got!" Then they all stared at the whistling shells that flew from each Allied nation. Their hands were tight fists; they wanted to end it now.

Inside, the Baltics heard Russia's teeth grind.

The blasts decimated what was left of the foundations, and the fortress crumbled to pieces. Alfred inhaled and exhaled slowly as the scent of dust, gunpowder, and iron filled his nostrils. The rifle slipped from his slack grip, and he watched as the smoke and dust cleared.

Russia's forces were either dead or retreating.

Alfred noticed the part of him that yearned for total destruction. The part that wanted Russia dead.

But there was something more important that called him. Not his people's joy at the sudden victory, or his allies. He had to see if she was alright. He wanted to see her face as he came back for her, just as he'd promised.

His mind muted the elated cheers around him, and he barely caught France's victorious cries. The soldiers were caught up in simultaneous songs of life and death, rejoicing at their success.

Matthew seemed to understand and joined his brother. Alfred turned to him as they ran, seeing his brother, his friend, bearing that same determination and fire that he and Teresa carried. England, France, and Spain were another thing entirely. Alfred had his brother and his lover at his side, and he never wanted to lose either of them.

His twin gave a grim smile and nodded, sharing his thoughts. Matthew. Dear, dependable Mattie. America gazed at him gratefully as they walked towards China.

The young man grasped Yao's shoulder, and explained with desperation, "Mexico got caught in the fortress's collapse, and she tried to pull me out of the way! Please, Yao, you've got to help her!"

The older man stared at him in shock, but he shook his head with dejection. "Forgive me, America...Japan and I took heavy casualties-aru. We have to stay with them."

America shook his head as he yelled, "But she's running out of time! Don't you get it? Teresa's going to die, and if she goes so does her nation!"

"¿Que…?"

Alfred turned, finding a dirt-covered yet mostly uninjured Spain staring at him in disbelief. The European country's green eyes were tinged with horror, leaving Alfred with no doubt about his feelings. "How…But…Is that why…you took her glasses…?" There was an accusing tone in his question.

Matthew immediately came to Alfred's defense. "Teresa gave them to him herself! She's still alive! Spain, do you think you can help her?"

America kept his relentless stare on Spain, who wasted no time in answering, "Si. I will try…"

Nodding with finality, Alfred muttered, "Let's get going. England's taking care of her, and he might be waiting for news…"

He barely noticed how the rest of the world subdued the defeated Russia.

HETALIA!

Arthur maintained his silent vigil at Teresa's side, kneeling beside her and becoming discouraged by the sound of her shallow breaths. Night fell swiftly, so he had draped his jacket over her trembling body. He had realized that morphine would have eased her pain, or at least eased her passing. The English nation watched her pale, withdrawn face without malice or blame, wondering if she would live. And if she did die, what would happen to Alfred?

He became lost in those forbidden thoughts until he was called back by Mexico's whimper, "Alfred…Perdoname, mi amor…"

Arthur leaned closer and gently ordered, "Save your energy, Mexico. He…He'll be along shortly. You can count on that."

Her brown eyes opened, staring back at England's green ones. Her gaze was filled with understanding and tenderness. "Arthur…I know you must detest me…"

The man brushed it aside. "Rubbish. Now will you keep quiet-"

"You need to hear this, Arthur…" Her swallow sounded painful, and the ensuing gasp made Arthur cringe. "I never wanted to betray Alfred. That night…was the happiest of my life…" Tears appeared in her eyes, making a trail into her hair as she blinked. "The last thing…I wanted to do was hurt him the way I did…"

England bit his lip, his own tears threatening to spill over. He was moved by pity to gently wipe her tears away. She loves him. No one who loves him so much could be…all bad. He tried to keep his voice under control as he told her, "I realize that. And…as much as I didn't want to admit it, you've always been worthy of him…And you know I can hardly deny him anything."

Her grateful smile made him feel torn between happiness and sorrow. When she suddenly let out a painful cry, Arthur moved sharply and took her hand in his. "Teresa, you have to hold on! For your people! For Alfred! They all need you to live!"

She squeezed back weakly, still smiling. "When…When I fought Antonio all those years ago…I was prepared to die for what I loved most. I don't re…regret dying for Alfred…" More tears spilled onto her dirt-streaked face. "I know…I know he will care for my people…He will make them…warriors…" Her eyes were glazing over, and she was gasping for each painful breath. "Santa Maria, Madre de Dios…"

Arthur's heart filled with dread and began to squeeze her hand, yelling, "Don't die, do you hear me? DON'T DIE!"

"Ruega…por nosotros…" Her grip began to falter.

"Mexico! TERESA!"

"Los peca…pecadores…ahora y…"(1)

England trembled as he squeezed her hand, and he watched her body seize slightly. Her grip became slack, and the Mexican Empire softly let her last breath go.

England stared at the dead woman, refusing to let go of her hand. He felt no pulse through her skin. Her rosy lips were slightly parted and her eyes were closed forever. The wind sifted through her listless, dark brown curls.

The man heard the cries of a million voices as their nation succumbed, the capital destroyed. From the northern deserts to the southern jungles, the country was shrouded in darkness.

Arthur let her hand drop to the ground, were it lay still.

Suddenly he began beating the ground with his fist, swearing at the sky as his hand bled, "GODDAMMIT! SON OF A BITCH! WHY? WHY?" He ignored his physical pain and the tears stinging his eyes.

Mexico was dead. Teresa was dead. He had failed Alfred.

Arthur gazed down at her, grief and rage beating him down. His tears fell on her face as he growled through gritted teeth, "Damn you…Don't you realize what this will do to him…?" His wracking sobs shattered the peace of the forest where he had once lost Alfred. "I'm sorry, Alfred…"

With the greatest tenderness, his hands arranged her features so that she at least looked as though she were at peace. England did not want Alfred to think she had suffered…

HETALIA!

Canada drove, this time speeding through the road as Spain and America gripped their doors with impatience. Antonio was already aware of how Teresa became injured, and he was glaring at the back of Alfred's head. "And you just left her alone? In pain? Is that how you repaid her?"

Alfred turned and shot back, his blue eyes glinting with fury, "Do you think I wanted this to happen? But I couldn't just stay there and do nothing while Russia was still in power! And I trust Arthur! He won't let any-"

¡AUXILIO!

¡DIOS MIO, AYUDAME! (2)

Alfred doubled over in his seat, a wave of nausea closing his throat and a sharp pain pounding into his eyes. The horrified cries, Spanish and indigenous, flooded his head as he felt the nation rip apart. No no no no no…He felt the car skid as Matthew applied the brakes, heard his brother's concerned voice, "Al…Alfred, what's wrong?"

He wanted to stop that final image from appearing but it still did. Her face, pale and still as her curls formed a rich frame. Her skin lost its vibrant color, and her lips did not move. So unfitting in a face that had a thousand expressions.

Alfred choked on his own breath and opened his eyes, the glasses on the car floor, along with several of his tears. "…Mattie, drive."

"Al…"

"NOW!"

Matthew said nothing as he sped through British lines, giving Antonio a warning glance as he reached one hand over to pat his brother's back. Alfred had hidden his face in his hands, so only his gritted teeth were visible as he grimaced.

Slowly news of the victory spread through the world, but they all began to realize that something was horribly wrong in Central America.

Spain, through his own fragile link to his former colonies, knew something was wrong, and he knew America was fully aware. "Canada…You and America do realize what Mexico's death might mean."

Canada replied tersely, "We do know, Spain. We know about Ancient Greece."

Alfred shook his bowed head, murmuring, "She's not dead…She's not dead…"

The familiar lands of the old fortress finally came into view, and Matthew shuddered as he felt the aura of despair that hung around the area. "My god…I think that's from Arthur…"

Finally raising his head, Alfred feverishly stared ahead and tried to find a trace of England or Mexico. "I…I don't see…"

"¡Miren!" (3)

Spain pointed out England's hazy outline. America followed his gaze, and found his mentor crouched over something stretched out on the ground.

He'd known what it was all along.

When they arrived at the base of the hill, Alfred leapt out of the car and ran across the rubble-littered ground to reach the top. "Arthur! Arthur!" He tried to catch his breath, the top of the hill seeming so far off. His arms and legs burned, as though he were a human struggling through the thickest forest. I have to make it up there…I have to…

Struggling through the pain, America made it, and he found a kneeling Arthur. The English nation's back was to him, and he was staring down at a motionless body. Arthur blocked Alfred's view of her face.

The boy breathed out, "…Arthur…?" He felt Matthew's fleeting touch of his hand, and saw Spain fall to his knees beside him.

The man turned slowly, his eyes rimmed with red. Arthur's anguished stare dug into Alfred like a knife, and he finally looked past England to see what he most feared.

England's coat covered Teresa from the chest down, either for protection against the cold or to cover the obvious injuries. The blush from her cheeks had disappeared, replaced by a stone color that had no place there. She looked just as she had in Alfred's mind. Silent, peaceful, and empty.

Alfred, falling to his knees beside her, sobbed out, "Terry…Teresa…!" She did not move or answer in any way. More sobs wracked through Alfred's throat as he gathered Mexico's broken body in his arms.

He held her there, rocking unsteadily on his knees, trying to call back the warmth into her skin. "Teresa, please…! Please, you can't…"

Behind him, Spain moaned softly in Spanish, begging for Mexico's forgiveness. Matthew suddenly went over to Alfred and leaned his forehead on his older brother's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Alfred…"

A second hand touched his back, and Alfred heard Arthur's broken voice say, "...It's something all nations learn, Alfred…We can't…We can't always solve everything…"

Oh, Teresa…

Tears falling onto his lenses, America gently squeezed Mexico's cold body in his arms, realizing that it was the first time he had held her in such a way. He gazed down at her face, wanting to see her glorious smile and the brilliant light in her eyes.

No. Maybe backing down worked for the rest of the world.

But not for him.

"…There's no way I'm just going to take this, Arthur…There's not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from trying."

Please, forgive ALL the delays! Real life and general writer's block have kept me from this fic and Cruz Rosa. I bought Paint it White a couple of days ago and decided to watch it for some inspiration. Hopefully I'll be able to finish before my winter break ends. Thank you all for your helpful and encouraging reviews! Viva Mexico! (REALLY)

Translations:

1: Holy Mary prayer, unfinished. :(

2: Cries for help.

3: Look!

R & R