Sorry for not updating last month. I was busy and exhausted with working two jobs so I barely had any energy to write this chapter. I was trying to get used to the new jobs, so I was mentally drained by the time I could write even a page. I also had to watch a few documentary vids and looked up some historical facts to get an understanding of people's lives during certain events.

Now it's here so enjoy!

I do not own Hetalia

Chapter 13

"... Ar..."

He could hear the sound of ringing in his ears as his consciousness came to the surface.

"... thur... ou... kay?..."

Who was that? He could barely hear him through the ringing sound in his head.

"Ar...thur... an yo... ear me?"

He opened his eyes and found a familiar face looking at him in panic. There was dirt and blood... so much blood on his face. Was he injured?

He looked around and discovered he had been lying on the ground. Oh right, he was in the forest... fighting... he was at war with the colonist... with Alfred's people...

"Thank go... Arthu... re you alrigh...?" Alfred asked with concern. "I nee... to get you ou... of here. You're badly injured."

Arthur tried to tell the boy that he was fine. Even if he was injured, he would heal. He just wanted Alfred to leave him be, but he felt so numb and tired that no words came out of his mouth.

"It's alright," Alfred tried to assure him. He pulled something out of his coat and began wiping a spot on the British's head. It was a handkerchief, a cream colored with red rose embroidery. As he wiped his face, dark red stains started to taint its soft colored fabric. "I was meaning to return this to you after I washed it up, but took longer than I thought. Now, it's all dirty again." He chuckled awkwardly.

In the distance, they could hear shoutings and Alfred looked up in surprise.

"My men are coming," he looked away from Arthur. "There's no time to get you out of here."

The boy seemed to have spotted something before he suddenly scooped Arthur up into his arms and carried him somewhere. It was a short trip before Alfred laid him down and covered him with a blue coat as a makeshift blanket.

"The red is too noticeable," Alfred pulled something from above to cover it over the British. It looked like some kind of shrubbery. Alfred was using the shrubbery to conceal him from his men.

"Stay here and don't make a sound, understand?" Alfred ordered him. "I'll try to lead my men away so they don't find you."

Arthur wanted to tell him not to go. He only managed to lift his hands up a little. He wanted to grab onto him, so he wouldn't leave him.

Alfred must've noticed his plea, because he grasped his hand tightly with his own and said, "I'll come back and get you, alright? So just stay safe until I get back." When he let go, there was something soft and cream colored in Arthur's hand. The boy got up and gave one last smile, before he turned around and dashed off.

Don't go...

Arthur tried to stretch out his hand.

Don't leave me...

Alfred's figure started to disappear from his vision.

Please... don't abandon me...

And that was the last thing he remembered before his consciousness slipped away.

After that battle, England's men were the ones that found him and brought him back to camp to care for him. It seemed that his men were able to win the battle with the colonists this time and they came to search for any survivors and England, especially.

The war went on and England went back to the battlefields many times, but he never saw the colonist boy ever again. England never knew what happened to him or if he was alive or not. He tried to believe that he was still out there, but years went by and decades passed. He never saw him again and at some point, he had to accept that he was dead. If not from the war, then from old age. A human's lifespan was so short and fleeting compared to a nation's.

Humans always fantasized immortality as some amazing thing they wished to obtain, but for nations, it was a curse that they had no choice but to accept. Such irony.

"…And after the Great Depression, World War II started," Alfred was in the middle of telling his country's history.

At the beginning, they started the tour with how the American continent was founded and colonized. He gave a surprisingly detailed history of the different cultures and tribes of the Native Americans. England had to admit that the boy seemed very informed of the topic for his age. England felt awkward when it came to the events that lead up to the American Revolution, but their young tour guide kept a neutral tone in his explanation throughout the tour so the British Nation didn't feel like he was being portrayed as a villain like most patriots would. He was very thankful for the young American's consideration.

Then they went through the other events like the American Revolution, Louisiana Purchase, Lewis and Clark Expedition, Trail of Tears, Oregon Trail, Gold Rush, Civil War, and World War I. There were other events as well, but these were the ones that stood out to England at the moment.

For each section of the events, there would be a room or exhibit made specifically for it and Alfred would give them ten to fifteen minutes to look around before moving on. There would be models, paintings, antiques, photos, furnitures, parchments, and books displayed for them to look at. There were also miniature models of landscapes and cities to replicate events like the desert canyon that had little wagons and horses for the Oregon Trail. There was even a table that displayed a miniature Civil War battle field with several American soldiers in either Union blue or Confederate grey. Sometimes, England would find some of his own former possessions among them. The British nation couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and delight at the thought that his old properties could help educate the younger generations of humanity rather than catching dust in his storeroom.

They were about finished with the Great Depression and were going into World War II. Unsurprisingly, it was not just England that remembered how it began, but many other countries remembered it clearly as well. Especially, Germany. The Great Depression caused the stock market to crash and many millions or even billions of their people to become unemployed around the world. This affected Germany greatly since he was already dealing with the aftermath of World War I.

"As I mentioned before, during the Great Depression, Germany was already a bad state from World War I, but it became worse during the Great Depression. It was during this time that a man, by the name Adolf Hitler, begun his plan to seize power by using the people's frustration and despair as a fuel. There was no denying that he was amazing in his speech, especially when the German citizens were at their wits end. Hitler's words were like a beacon of hope for them," Alfred lead the group into a large room filled with antiques from World War II. From old posters to antique radios and televisions to old military weapons and uniforms. "We are now in the World War II exhibit. Since we have a group of people representing each nation, I would like to apologize in advance if anything I say sounds offensive or insensitive towards your nation, but please know that I am doing my best to keep my description neutral and unbiased as possible."

"You are doing just fine, lad," assured England. "When you recalled the American Revolution and the events prior to it that had British involvement, I didn't feel offended whatsoever."

"That's good," Alfred smiled with relief at the British nation's word of encouragement.

Most of the nations agreed with England on that. They were already used to the way Americans were boastful and prideful when it came to their history, but so far, Alfred had kept it pretty professional.

"I 'onestly vouldn't be insulted if 'e made 'is country sound like they vere super'eroes," France whispered jokingly to England. " 'ave you seen 'ow they are depicted in their silly comics they love so much?"

"Hush!" England snapped back in a low voice so only his French companion could hear. "He's doing quite splendidly so far so don't let him hear you say that."

"Don't vant me to 'urt your little American boy's feelings?" France continued to tease him.

"I will rip out your tongue and shove it back down your throat if you don't shut your trap!"

As the two European nations bickered among themselves, the other nations had already started to look around the room as Alfred was recounting the second world war story. The nations felt nostalgic upon seeing some old antiques and dead technology from decades ago.

England couldn't help but smile when he spotted an old bulky computer. He remembered using those old contraptions, but now they had thin and flat screen computers that didn't eat so much space on his desk and laptops that were convenient for carrying around. Technology had evolved so far so fast in the last century, even more for an immortal being like him.

Japan was observing the miniature airplane models with fascination. He was always a fan of tiny models so he collected a large amount of them as a hobby. Germany on the other hand, spotted a propaganda poster portraying the Nazis and Germany as being villains. The German nation had a hard look on his face and turned away from the poster before joining Japan in the plane models section.

"These are very fine moderus," complimented Japan.

"It is," Germany agreed. His eyes looked through the models and recognized some German aircrafts. This brought a sense of nostalgia as he remembered the war days when he fought in the war as a pilot. He was known for being both fearless and bold in the air battles. His enemies feared his amazing talent to fight in the sky and his men admired him for it. Germany had flew into battle many times and never been taken down… until the Americans joined the war.

At first, he fought with many American warplanes, but he would come out victorious. There were Canadians as well, but to Germany, America was the real threat. Germany thought he could never lose when it came to battles in the sky, but his belief came crashing down when he was ambushed by two fighter planes…

[General Ludvig, zhere are British aircrafts coming tovards us,] a german pilot reported over the radio.

"Stay on course," he ordered his soldiers. "Ve'll take zhem down like ve alvays do. How many are zhere?"

[Squadron, sir]

"Zhat's not bad. Ve have more in numbers," Germany said with confidence. "Zhis vill be anozher easy victory. Now prepare for battle! Ve are going in!"

[Jawohl!]

It wasn't long until they clashed with the British air forces and Germany was shooting them out of the sky one after another. Just when he felt confident that they were going to win, one of his soldiers yelled through the radio in panic.

[Sir! Zhere is unidentified plane attacking our forces and— AAAAHHH— Pzzt!]

The radio was suddenly cut off. Germany was stunned and started to look around for the said plane. He was only able to spot one of his German planes falling towards the earth with a trail of black smoke behind it.

"Was zum Donnerwetter!" Germany gasped.

[Zhere are planes coming out of novhere and taking out our forces, sir! I believe zhis is an ambush!—GAAA— Pzzt!]

Another two German planes got shot down.

"Shit!" Germany shouted in frustration. Where was this mysterious plane coming from?!

He looked left and right, trying to hunt down the craft, but there were so many German and British planes that he had a hard time spotting for the one he was looking for. But when he looked up, right where the sun was located, he spotted something moving at break neck speed. A fighter plane came flying out of the sun, using the bright sunlight behind it to blind its enemies for a moment and shoot down one of his German planes from above.

Just as the craft dived down from the sky, Germany was able to make out what the craft looked like. The first thing he noticed was a blue eagle and star painted on the side. From the look of the plane model, it was an American fighter plane!

"It's an American plane!" Germany shouted through the radio for his men to hear. "Das Americans are ambushing us! Keep your eyes open and find if zhere are more of zhem!"

[I need back up! I have an unidentified plane on my tai—it got me! I have been hi— Pzzt!]

"Anozher one!?" Germany cried out in shock. Now he was starting to panic. Where were these planes coming from? Was it another American plane? He searched around again for the other enemy aircraft.

He turned around just in time to see the said craft chasing another German plane by its tail. The German pilot tried every maneuver to get the enemy plane off its back, but the newcomer just kept on chasing while firing bullets at it.

This craft was the same American model, but unlike the blue eagle and star on the American craft, this one had a red goose and a maple leaf on it.

Even though, it was just two aircrafts, they were already taking out his men like flies. What if more of them were coming? This wasn't looking good. Germany hated the idea of defeat, but at this rate, his whole force would be wiped out.

Once the plane with the red goose took down another of his German planes, Germany finally went after it and tried to shoot it down. Unfortunately, it was able to dodge all his bullets with its impressive maneuvers.

Tried as he might, Germany couldn't seem to hit it. This frustrated the German nation greatly. While he was so distracted with trying to shoot down the red goose aircraft, Germany didn't notice another plane coming at him from above until the last second.

Germany looked up in time to see the blue eagle fighter plane flying out of the sun, momentarily blinding the German nation. Then it fired down a rain of bullets.

He was hit.

The engine blew up and the plane's wings were severely damaged. He lost control of his plane and the aircraft went diving towards the earth below.

After Germany fell from the sky, he crashed into a remote forest with fatal injuries that would have killed a man. He 'died' that day, but being an immortal being, he just merely regenerated himself after a certain amount of time. He had to walk himself back to his own troops after coming back from the dead and reported to his superior, Adolf Hitler. Germany also found out that his men was almost wiped out after he was taken down. From what he was told, more enemy planes arrived on the battlefield as back up and took out most of his German flyers. Only five were able to make it back after a bitter retreat.

Since then, Germany had been trying to find those two fighter planes and acquire as much information on them as possible. The information he was able to gather was that the two fighter planes were named the "Blue Eagle" and the "Red Goose." The pilot of the Blue Eagle was an American, not much of a surprise for the German. But the Red Goose was a Canadian, which he didn't expect. Those two planes were often found in many air battles, fighting alongside each other like a perfect duo. The Blue Eagle was known for its surprise attacks and using the sun to blind its enemies. The quick and unexpected attacks were nothing to laugh about. On the other hand, the Red Goose tended to chase its enemies by the tail and take them down from behind. No matter how hard one tried to out maneuver the Canadian pilot, the Red Goose was stubborn and would chase one down until one was blown out of the sky.

Unfortunately, the names of the pilots were never discovered. After the war, they just simply disappeared as if they didn't exist. Germany never found out who they were and he honestly regretted it. Even though they were enemies, as a fellow pilot, Germany had to admire their amazing piloting skills.

"I see you two like planes too," Alfred walked up to the two former Axis power nations. "Any specific models you like more? I'm a fan of bomber and fighter planes."

"I favoru the Kawasaki and Kawanishi pranes," replied Kiku. "I have many moderus of them back home."

"Oh yeah! Japan is big on miniature models," Alfred beamed.

"Do you by any chance have information on individual planes and zheir pilots?" asked Ludwig.

"Individual planes?" Alfred gave him a confused look. "Not sure If I understand what you mean by that."

"Have you heard of das Blue Eagle and Red Goose?" Ludwig inquired. Though, he didn't have high hopes of the young American to know of those two mysterious planes and the men that piloted them.

"Oh! Those two! Yeah, I know them," Alfred smiled.

Germany honestly did not expected that. "You do?"

"Yep! The blue eagle was flown by an American and the Red Goose was a Canadian pilot," told Alfred.

Ludwig's hope deflated in disappointment at that. He already knew that type of information. He already guessed it from the paint job the planes had.

"The Blue Eagle pilot likes surprise attacks and would use the sun to his advantage while the Red Goose was more of a chaser. Ya know, like a goose? Those savage birds are like demons with feathers and would chase you down like rapid dogs! Ugh… Never anger a goose. EVER," Alfred emphasize the last part with a very serious look.

The American's face turned pale when he was talking about the geese. He must've had bad memories with those ferocious avian animals.

"The pilots also happened to be brothers, so they always go into battle with each other. You can never have one without the other. They always stick together like glue," Alfred added.

Now this was something that Ludwig didn't know and it caught the German nation's attention. "Zhey vere brozhers?"

"Yep. Twins to be more specific," explained Alfred. "If you're wondering why they were twin brothers with different nationalities, it's because they were separated when they were young and ended up with different citizenships. But they got reunited and were together ever since."

"Zhat is quite interesting," Ludwig took note of that.

That was when Feliciano hopped into their conversation. "What are you talking about, ve? I 'eard somet'ing about brodhers and twins."

"Alfred-san was informing us about two pilots that flew the Blue Eagle and Red Goose," Kiku told the Italian.

"Blue Eagle? Red Goose?" Feliciano cocked his head to the side. The names sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember where he heard them.

"Zhey vere das two planes zhat sho—I vas interested in," Germany quickly fixed his sentence. He was about to say 'the two planes that shot him down,' but changed it since there was a non-nation among them.

"Ve? So what does dhis 'ave anyt'ing to do widh twin brodhers?" wondered the Italian.

"The pirots were twins," informed Japan. "But with different nationalities. One was American and the other Canadian."

"Oh! Dhat sounds like Alfred and 'is brother, Matthew, no?" Feliciano said with excitement at this thought. "You know, since Alfred is American and Matthew is Canadian. What a coincident! Is dhat why you know about dhem? Dhey 'ave similar background like you and your brodher so you studied dhem a lot, no?"

When the Italian said that, Alfred froze and little speck of sweat begun running down his face, but it went unnoticed by the nations. "Yeah… That's right. Them being American and Canadian brothers was what got me looking them up."

"You don't happen to know zheir names, do you?" asked Ludwig. "Or any ozher background information?"

"Their names? Oh I don't know their names." Alfred answered with a shaky voice while his eyes darted as if he was looking for something in panic. "That's all I know about them, so sorry about that. Hey, do you guys want to see the old photos from the war? They're right over there next to the old recruiting posters. Looks like Ivan is already checking them out, so let me check on him if he has any questions."

The American tour guide was quick to change the topic, still in panic before dashing off to where the Russian nation was.

"That was… peculiar," said Kiku.

"Si," nodded Feliciano.

Ludwig agreed that the young American was acting a little strange, but he just brushed it off as nothing since the American was already odd in his own way.

After escaping from that slight slip up, Alfred headed towards the Russian, who was staring at the old photos. The old photographs were placed on a large board with a glass cover covering it for protection.

That was a pretty close call. Alfred got a bit too excited when Ludwig asked about his past military achievements during the second World War and got ahead of himself. He nearly jeopardized his and his brother's secret. He really needed to be more cautious with what he said.

"So, Ivan, you enjoying the tour so far?" Alfred asked as he went to stand beside the Russian.

"It vas very interesting and informative," Ivan complimented. "Not as offending as dhe last time ve discussed about our nations, yes?"

"Oh that… yeah, sorry about that time," Alfred scratched behind his head in awkwardness.

"I already said it vas my fault for provoking you, so you do not need to apologize," Ivan waved his hand. "So about dhese photographs. Are you familiar vith any of dhese?"

"Familiar, huh? Let me see," the young American looked through the old photographs.

Many of these photos were of soldiers and civilians. There were also photos of cities and towns, both in the United States and in Europe. Though Alfred himself didn't know most of them, but he did recognized a good number of them as places he had been and even spotted a few familiar faces. They were soldiers he met and befriended during the time he was in the military. He made many friends and fought alongside them on the battlefields, but most of them never came back from the war. There were many bittersweet memories, but he would never regret the times he spent with them.

"This photo was taken from Omaha Beach when the 2nd Infantry Division troops were going up the bluff while carrying equipment to Saint-Laurent-sur-Mer in 1944," Alfred pointed to a photo of American soldiers walking up a hill. "This one is a group photo of senior American commanders of the European theater. There're William H. Simpson, George S. Patton, Carl A. Spaatz, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Omar Bradley…"

"Vhat about dhese photos?" Ivan cut him off and pointed to a group of photos of pilots.

One photo was of a pilot standing beside his fighter plane with a proud composure. Another was of three men sitting on some cargo and staring at the camera. A third was another pilot, but he was sitting in his plane with a lively smile. The fourth was a group photo of a bunch of pilots with a couple of bomber planes in the background.

The last one, Alfred recognized right away.

It was a photo of his squadron when they arrived in Africa to prepare to invade Sicily and Italy. They were supposed to help with air cover for the ground soldiers during the invasion. His squadron were a bunch of young white and black men, who joined the war for a variety of reasons from gaining fame, getting a girl, wanting some thrill, protecting their country, and doing it for family honor.

Though, the photo was supposed to be a group photo, Alfred and Matthew were not in it. This was due to the brothers being sent on a small mission for a a few days. Their fellow squadron members took this photo when a photographer just happened to visit the base while the two brothers were not there.

"These photos are about the Thunderbird fighter squadron," the American veteran answered with ease. "They were a squadron of young brave men, both of white and black. They were known for sneak attacks and took down hundreds of Nazi planes during their time. Though, not without some lost on the way. Their first mission was in Africa to help chase out Nazis in those countries and then later invaded Sicily and Italy."

"Dhey seem to get along from vay dhey are together. Yet, dhey are of different skin color," thought Ivan. "If my memory serves me right, vasn't America having issues vith racism vithin country and dheir military during dhat time?"

"Well, yeah, I can't deny that African Americans and other races were getting the bad end of the sticks, but the war showed that no matter what skin color you are, we're all still human. No matter if it's fear, despair, joy, or anger, everyone has it. Everyone is equal in that. Especially, when it comes to death, so we have to stick together if we want to survive," Alfred said with a distant gaze. "It was awkward at first and there were some stupid fights, but after their first battle, they became closer. That's when they realized that they're a team and death can take any of them anytime so we have to have each others' back to get through those hard times."

Talking about the guys back in the World War II days brought back some fond memories for the American. "There was this guy named Branden, who was a jerk at first and would insult the African American members a lot. He and Torrel would have shouting matches several times a everyday, but after a few missions together, they became drinking buddies. They still threw insults at each other, but it was more of friendly jabs then anything malicious. Then there was Edward, but his friends would call him Eddie. He was a bit cocky, but he was also a comedian and he liked to mess with people when he played poker. He was damn good at it too. Jeffry and Alex were more serious type. They would wake up early in the morning to work out and run laps around the base."

"You seem to know dhem quite vell…" the Russian smiled.

"I guess," Alfred scratched his chin in embarrassment. "I'm a real history fanatic after all."

"Yet, vay you described dhem is as if you knew dhem personally," a strange smirk started to form on the Russian's face. "You know dheir dynamics very vell… a bit too vell if you don't mind me saying."

Alfred felt his heart dropped to his stomach.

"W-what are you talking about?" Alfred tried to laugh it off. "I just happened to really s-study on them a lot, that's all. How could I know them personally? Most of them had already passed away and I wouldn't know if the rest are even alive or not."

"Is dhat so?" Ivan still had that mysterious smile on his face. "Dhen how did you acquire such detailed and personal information like dhat?"

Alfred felt his back sweating. He couldn't have known, could he? There was no way Ivan could know that Alfred was there and was part of that Squadron. This was several decades ago!

Think Alfred! Think! How should he get out of this?!

"What are you two discussing?" Another voice cut in.

It was Arthur and following behind him was Francis.

"Is there a problem?" Arthur asked, looking from Ivan to Alfred with suspicion. He was especially glaring at the Russian with hardened eyes.

"Oh! We were just talking about the photos," Alfred pointed to the old photographs.

"Yes, Mr. Jones here has been telling me in great detail about dhese pilots," Ivan smiled innocently as if he didn't notice the glare the British man was sending him.

"Was that really all?" Arthur questioned once more to be sure.

"Yeah, that was really it so did you guys have any questions or anything?" Alfred tried to distant their conversation from the photos. "If not, we can move on to the Cold War…"

That was when it hit him and he realized something.

Oh no… Talking about the Cold war while there was a Russian next to him? Not to mention, this same Russian seemed to be suspicious of him and was making him nervous now.

"Honhonhonhonhon Now this is going to be interesting," Francis chuckled as he watched the American turned pale. Alfred was very sure that the French was talking about him and not the topic itself.

Behind him, Alfred could hear a creepy 'koikoikoikoikoikoikoikoi…' sound and it made his hair stand on end.

Crap…

Earlier, when England spotted Alfred and Russia talking together, he noticed the distressed look on the tour guide's face. Did the Russian say something to make the young man look like that? A mix of fear and worry hit him like a truck and had him storm to them immediately. He thought the Russian nation was bullying the young man and the British nation was ready to berate the other nation if he so much as threatened the boy.

Even though, Alfred tried to act like everything was fine and move on to the next section of the tour, England could tell that the young man was nervous about something. England had been working in the government for centuries so he would know how to read people very well. Alfred was one of the easier people to read since the boy was like an open book. Something was bothering him and he wanted to know why.

When Alfred was leading them to the next room to start on the Cold War, England whispered to the Russian with a stern tone, "What did you say to the boy? You better not have scared him for your own amusement."

"I did no such dhing," Russia denied. "As I said before, I merely asked about pilots in photos."

"Pilots? Why are you interested in American pilots?" questioned England, confused.

"It's not dhese pilots I'm interested in," Russia said with a mysterious look in his gaze before following their tour guide.

England was even more confused. What did the Russian mean by this? What was the man planning?

Thank you for reading and please leave a feedback or comment.

Thanks to rainsonata for proofreading

Seems like a lot of you are on the bandwagon of Canada and England flashback, so I'll see what I can do for next time Matthew and Arthur meet.

Also, I mentioned before do not rush me with updates. I have to juggle two jobs right now and I don't want to deal with stress with writing fanfics. I already put two fanfics on hiatus because I've been getting rude readers calling me names for a year because the stories aren't getting updated. (Check the latest chapter of Will of Fire and Eye of Truth or my FF tumblr blog for my writer's notice on this issue) If I don't get it out next month again, please don't demand for updates. It doesn't help me write it any faster.