DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia….the world would be in trouble if I did~ *winks*
Yay! My birthday this past week~! I've been quite busy…essays, party planning, more homework. Damn Sarel…so sorry that this chapter is late… ^-^' love ya~!
Hahaha! I actually had quite a bit of trouble with this chapter. Writers block! So here ya go~
England looked as if he had fallen into a pleasant slumber. His blond hair messily surrounding his head like a halo, his features endearing in the clear morning light… It was good that he was finally getting some pleasant sleep, as opposed to the tossing and turning and screaming he had been doing every night since he got back and probably before then as well.
Memories from the war…
That horrible bloody war…
But it would be okay now that it was over. America would regain his memories. If he loved England once, then he would definitely love him again!
Taking one look at the busy browed angel Seychelles smiled, and exited the room.
It seemed odd to her, still, that America would just forget that way… It didn't seem like him…could countries even have memory loss? Well…Since America seemed to, it must be possible…But why that specific time? It really bothered her—
"Seychelles~" She looked up suddenly to see a distressed Frenchman running towards her. France ran with a phone being swung around in his left hand, his arms flailing and running like a slow motion movie. France could be so odd sometimes…She smiled, and waved at him as he rushed nearly into her. He seemed to be frantic about something. What was wrong? She looked up at him with wide almond eye.
"Wha—" Before she could even finish the question France was pushing the phone into her hands.
"Mon cheri! Wake Arthur up! Tell him that the phone call is urgent!"
She paused, trying to take in the jumbled words.
"Francis! Why can't you—" Seychelles began, confused.
"He is far too scary in the morning for me to risk getting this beautiful face scarred. Please?"
"Who is it from?"
"It's America!"
"America!" She asked, excitedly. The Frenchman nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes! A hospital in America!"
Seychelles froze, her happiness falling around her. Had something bad happened to America?
"What happened?" She questioned, looking down at the phone that she hoped was on hold.
"Just bring the phone to Arthur…"
"Right!" She turned on her heel, and headed back into the room she had just come out of. "ENGLAND!" She cried as she burst in, and began to tug at his covers.
"Bloody hell…" he growled. "Go away Seychelles!"
She flinched back, and was pushed aside with a sigh from France.
"Arthur." The man's voice was even, and clear as he stood over the cranky Brit.
"I'm bloody asleep! Wankers!" He growled.
France rolled his eyes, and proceeded to sit on top of England.
"OW! Get OFF! You stupid idiotic plebeian!" A pillow came up and connected with France's head, causing his hair to sway a little, before falling perfectly back into place. The Frenchman simply smiled at the abuse. What a masochist… Seychelles found herself holding back laughter.
"England…Je suis desolee, mais…you must get up."
"Why? I don't want to!"
"Sometimes we all don't want to do the things we need to do," France spat.
"That makes no bloody sense. I don't have to get up! There'd be no point to it! Francis you're an idiot! Get off of me this instant!" He squirmed under the other mans weight.
"You have a phone call." France stated, taking the cell phone from Seychelles.
"Well, tell them to call back later!"
"Can't."
"Why the hell not?"
"because it's important."
"I need to sleep Francis that's important."
"Alfred is in th—"
"ALFRED?" England sat up quickly, fully awake now, and strong enough to cause the Frenchman to crash to the floor. He held out his hand to take the phone which had fallen with the Frenchman. He looked down at him incredulously his face painted with a pout.
"What are you doing on the floor you imbecile! Give me the bloody phone!"
France looked at Seychelles and rolled his eyes with a smirk, raising his hand so that England could take the phone from him.
The Englishman snatched the phone up and placed it against his ear. His whole personality seemed to change as he spoke into the device.
"Hello?" She said pleasantly, coating his voice with honey. There was a long pause. "Yes, this is Arthur…yes, I apologize for all of that ruckus. …he's what?...no, it's alright… I see…I will be there as soon as I can…yes…tell them that I will…alright, thank you…yes…Good day…"
He pressed down on the end button of the touch screen, and let it fall from his hands. England's body was trembling as he stared down at his sheets, looking past all of the material and into nothing… Seychelles could see that he was fighting back tears. But the old man was just too stubborn to express his feelings. That was probably why he was so angry all of the time.
"Arthur…What is wrong…?" Francis asked, resting his hand-in a non creeper way like usually, but in an actually act of comforting way- on England's leg. The Englishman's emerald eyes glowed with ill fought tears.
"He's in the ICU."
France drew in a sharp breath. Again….Again America was in the ICU… the intensive care unit…
"Well…He is a nation Arthur…" France said comfortingly. "I'm sure that he'll be fine… As long as his capital is still intact...he'll be fine okay?"
"But…he still doesn't have a president...elections are being held, but… what if they have more spies, and they are attacking again? A part of the enemy that we didn't know about?"
"I do not think so Arthur." France smiled.
"What if he isn't alright?"
"England, listen to yourself, he's a country, a very strong one at that. He can handle whatever happens to him. Or…do you doubt that he is a hero?" The Frenchman's blue eyes sparkled.
"I…" England looked away briefly, and then glanced back at him. "Apparently, he had been drunk…and he'd fallen…"
"Some fall…"
"Francis! America doesn't get drunk easily! And he definitely wouldn't pass out like that if he did!" England cried. "If he is in the ICU that means that he is not okay! NOT okay!"
"Shut up and just go and see for yourself!" France growled, getting to his feet.
"Fine!"
"Good!"
"I will!"
"then go!"
England pulled himself out of bed, and grabbed the suitcase he had never unpacked, walking out the door before he froze and turned around. Seychelles cracked a small smile, he must have realized that he was only wearing his boxers. France smiled as he watched the Englishman walk to his dresser and pull out clothes, putting them on with shaky fingers. He was worried about America…
Seychelles worried as well, she was scared that something has gone terribly wrong with the American. What if he forgot everything this time? Why had he passed out?
"England?"
He latched his suitcase after throwing in a few more articles of clothing, and pulled it up, briskly walking past her.
"Is there—" He began again, stepping backwards into the room, and looking at France.
"Yes."
He sighed, relieved, and let one of his breath taking smiles come over his face.
"Thank you Francis…Thank you a lot…"
"For what?" France asked, his smile growing even wider. He knew what for, but it seemed to be playing a game. England shook his head.
"Are they—"
"Under your name Arthur."
Plane tickets. France had already reserved him plane tickets. England turned back around and began to walk again before he spun back around.
"Wait—" He began with a glare. "Why did you ask me what had happened if you know…"
"It was the hospital Arthur, you would have gone even if your little Alfred had gotten a small cut." France smiled knowingly at the Englishman. England's face grew red and he turned around with muttered thanks and dashed down the hall, and down the stairs.
An arm reached out, wrapping around Seychelles's waist, and she was pulled in by Francis. The older man let out a sigh, and rested his face in her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, and let him stay there.
"That man…"
Seychelles smiled and ran a finer through soft blond hair.
"I know Francis" she said, her heart aching a bit. "I know…"
Arthur had gotten off of the plane, and ran for a taxi. He needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Get to his Alfred… To see if he is okay…
When he had finally got into the vehicle, and was driving for a bit, the buildings began to get lost in the speed of the car. England found himself beginning to fall asleep.
It was a long drive to the hospital, but he was haunted by the past whenever he closed his eyes. He had to keep telling himself that Alfred would be fine. But his mind kept slipping back to the negative. What had caused Alfred to faint like that? He seemed perfectly fine before…
What if he had snapped and just lost his memories completely? Everything…Just…Gone…?
He would talk to Russia when he got to the hospital….
Yes…
England yawned. Despite his worried state of mind, he found himself being pulled in by the misty arms of sleep.
Arthur stood with Alfred in the Conference room of the fort. They were the only two left after a particularly depressing meeting…Joyful because they had finally won the war, but there were so many people dead…so many… They had captured the enemy nations, finished the horrible war, but that didn't change the fact that…
That they had lost nearly 3/5ths of their soldiers. A devastating amount of lives lost… horribly devastating… But they had saved so many innocent people in return…
Though it had been a horrible experience England couldn't help but feel joy pulsing through him at the thought of their victory. And here was Alfred, bloody, dirty, wounded, and yet his handsome smile giving him an angelic glow.
The American turned to Arthur, his smile growing even wider as he wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him in, nuzzling his head in head against his neck. England let himself give into the soft touches as America's fingers trailed down his arms and danced under the Englishman's shirt. Alfred's soft lips pressed against his, gentle at first, but then turning urgent as his tongue demanded entrance to Arthur's mouth… England willingly let him in, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and kissing him back.
"Mmmmnn…" He breathed shallowly as America pulled away from him with a grin, lifting him up onto the table with that abnormal strength of his-even for a country- and continued to kiss him. He pulled away, leaving England breathless and leaned his forehead on the Englishman's.
"We did it Iggy." Alfred grinned. Really, the American didn't understand what he was doing to Arthur…getting him all…worked up, and then saying the same thing that they had all been saying for the past few hours… England internally groaned.
"I know Alfred." He mumbled, pulling his boyfriend closer to him.
"I just…can't believe it." Alfred breathed his grin still radiant…Dazzling…His dimpled cheeks making him look both extremely handsome and childish at the same time.
"Well," England brought his hands down America's shoulders, making the other man shiver. "You are a hero." He smiled, lacing his fingers though Alfred's. The American didn't seem to see that England was not in the mood for talking anymore.
"Damn right!"
"Now," England licked his lips, and leaned closer to America. "Be my hero and—"
There was a loud crashing sound outside of the tent; it sounded like…guns… but why? The war was over, maybe it was a misfire. But still, at that moment it seemed more menacing than any thunder that England had ever heard.
Smoke traveled into the tent as the door was pushed aside. America was already out of England's grip, looking alert as a soldier frantically rushed into the room.
"Escaped!" England heard through the loud gunshots and yelling outside.
No…
England moved off of the table, and stood by America's side.
"What?" America asked, making his way towards the soldier, all traces of happiness erased.
"China, sirs, he escaped!"
With a snarl that seemed to rip from the American's throat America pulled a gun up from the table along with a packet of bullets.
"I'm gonna kill that bastard…" He growled. It was not much like America to say something like that. But he had every right to. Just when they thought that it was all over…
"Sir?"
"Prepare the bombs, aim them at china's capital and other main cities." He took a deep breath and turned weary blue eyes over to England. "I didn't think that this was going to happen…I'd sincerely hoped that it wouldn't… But it looks like it is going to have to end this way. Someone has to die." America turned back around, his back now straighter as his persona changed into that of a man of military.
England, as he watched his love exit the tent with the young soldier, felt his body go weak.
No….
He was sick of all this fighting. Absolutely sick of it, and yet here he was, and it was starting all over again.
He had seen enough death and war to last him forever and a day.
America Had found China, and had nearly ripped him apart, getting pretty damn near destruction himself. He had been gone for nearly a month… no one knew where he had gone seeing as he'd gone all by himself. His logic was that he wasn't going to allow any more people to die because of this stupid war, and he was going to fix it.
Himself…
It was a side of Alfred that England loved and hated at the same time…The stupid heroic side of him.
Always the hero…Always the one risking his own life to try and save the lives of others…
"Alfred!" Arthur cried as he approached the man who he loved most in this world. He knelt down on the ground beside the man's reeling figure. He sucked a breath in, and turned his face up to England's with a small smile.
"Hey there Iggy…" He mumbled wincing as he touched his side. "Ouch…" He chuckled a bit before he once again winced in pain. "I probably don't look so hot right now do i?"
England had to resist the urge to smack the stupid American. Thinking such vain thoughts at a time like this!
"No Alfred, you look like an idiot."
"Gee thanks. Love you too."
There was a long an awkward silence between the two of them where England just scanned America's body. Seeing all of the scrapes and cuts… He must be in a lot of pain…
"Alfred…"
The other man looked up at him.
"I…I DO love you, you know…" Arthur sat down beside America and let the other man sink into his arms as the British man lost all will to hold back his tears. His lover's blue eyes widened slightly at the display of emotion. England moved away from him with a sudden force, his eyes suddenly accusing. "Why? Why did you go after him? He was too weak to do anymore harm. You could have just….no…" England choked on a sob.
America's hand came up to caress his face. "I didn't want to. Trust me Arthur." The endearment in which Alfred had said his actual name made England cry even harder…
Damnit! Men didn't cry, it wasn't right….
"But you are wrong. He WAS strong enough still. Strong enough to have a bomb pointed at you." England's green eyes snapped up to meet blue.
"What!"
"it wasn't strong enough to reach me no, but it was aimed at you…I couldn't allow you to get hurt… Don't worry, I may look horrible right now, but it's just a scratch." He chuckled. "Well, a few scratches, but…I'll be fine. My country is basically alright, except for a loss of lots of people, and then the capital…." The last sentence was said in a sort of rush that made England shiver. That had touched America's capital. And that he was passing it off as some tiny scuffle!
It wasn't something England could swallow.
"You're such an idiot Alfred!"He took in a shaky breath. "I hate you." England sobbed. His capital was in danger because china knew Alfred would go after him alone. That had been the way that he was doing everything so far. So why not? If there was an opening… no…If there were spies in America's capital before that there wouldn't have been any difference…
Unless they were actually planning to retreat and not regroup.
But that was very uncommon.
"No you don't." America smiled, pressing his chapped lips to England's palm.
"Bloody hell… Stupid twit…"
"Love you t—"
Alfred gasped, and then suddenly began to breathe heavily. He took himself away from England and lay on his back, biting his lips. A moan of pain escaped from his throat, and suddenly the American looked very young again. He was the child flinching at a crack of thunder, crying out and clutching England close to him. But this time…It wasn't thunder.
This time…He's not a child…
This time…He might be dying…
And,
This time… He's not reaching out for me…
The tears continued to escape from England's eyes. Arthur wouldn't be able to deal with losing his America! He couldn't lose him! Couldn't lose the man he loved most.
He couldn't lose his world…
It took him a moment to realize that America was looking at him, his cerulean eyes heartbreaking. England moved closer to him, moving the blonds head onto his lap, and running his fingers through the blood and mud caked hair.
"It'll be okay love…" He mumbled half to himself. Yes, okay…okay…It'll be okay…HE'LL be okay.
"Owww…" America whimpered as England's fingers ran over a knot.
England let his mind slip desperately back to old times.
"bloody hell Alfred!"He sobbed, trying to force a smile onto his face, but probably making himself look even more broken. "You should really brush out your hair; it's a bloody rat's nest…"
Alfred chuckled.
"I can do whatever~ I want sir bushy brow." He grinned.
"you cant just go and get yourself killed. You're not allowed to. I know I don't control you anymore…but…I love you damnit!"
America wasn't that independent. He just wasn't allowed to be that stupid! To make England feel this horrible!
England looked at America, his fingers now tumbling across his forehead.
"You…" He mumbled. "You love me right?"
"Of course." The American didn't even hesitate.
"Then promise me that you'll live no matter what."
America nodded.
"M'kay…" He was beginning to fall asleep…
"Promise!" England sobbed.
Alfred's eyes flickered back open, moving his hand towards England's and wrapping his pinky around the Britain's.
"I promise." He murmured.
America closed his eyes again, and began to fall asleep. England suddenly remembered that sleeping was bad when you were dying. Bad!
"Alfred! Stay awake! Do you hear me?" He pulled the other man into his arms and began to shake him a little. "Alfred, open your eyes! Awake!"
But the other man was already beginning to lose his grip on England's hand, his pinky slipping from Arthur's.
"Mmmnnn." He opened his mouth slightly, giving the other man a forced squeeze of the hand.
"You promised…" England's body quaked with sobs as the tears his lover's face.
"don't worry… No matter what…" He breathed. "Just a…scratch…"
And his hand fell.
"Alfred!"
"ALFRED!" England awoke gasping, sweat clinging to him, and making his shirt cling to his chest.
Sh*t
"Sir…" The taxi driver turned around with questioning black eyes. "We're here…"
England whipped his head around to the window to see that there were indeed at the hospital.
"Oh bloody hell." England groaned, unclipping his seatbelt, and opening the door as he pulled his suitcase up after him. "Thank you!" He said quickly, shutting the door.
"—!" Right…He hadn't paid the man any money.
He thrust the yellow door open again, digging around in his pocket for some form of American money.
"Here!" He threw a $100 bill at the driver, and slammed the door shut again, booking it towards the hospital doors.
Alfred…
England pushed though the double doors and made his way to the front desk.
"Alfred F. Jones." He stated hurridly, wishing that she would instantly know where he was and not have to look it up. But alas, her over grown fingernails pecked achingly slow on the computer keys.
"Alfred…F….." She typed aloud, chewing her gum quite loudly.
England was about to burst, when he heard someone speak behind him.
"I know where he is."
The voice sent chills down England's spine, making him whirl around with narrowed eyes.
"Russia."
Dun-Dun-daa-daa! hahaha cliff hangy? ish?
YAY! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Again, sorry for the lateness.
What do you want to happen next? (maybe the most popular answer will win!)
Should I keep going or end it soon?
Haha either way leave me lots of reviews and I promise the next one won't be late!
REVIEWS=Happy writer=more fanfiction for you!
So~ have a great thanksgiving!
and remember the person who gives the 50th review will get a free fanfiction from me!
