Chapter 21: Coming Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/N: Wow this took a long time. A year almost. But things have straightened up health wise and I plan to start writing again regularly, plus my love for Hetalia has been renewed recently so expect a lot more from this and my other Hetalia stories 3

Found my heart and broke it here
Made friends and lost them through the years
And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I've grown
But I can't wait to go home

...

But these people raised me
And I still can't wait to go home

~Castle on the Hill, Ed Sheeran

Alfred exited the room tired and worn down emotionally, but was greeted with the welcome sight of the Nordics hovering by the door protectively. Without saying a word he walked forward into Tino's arms, the Finnish man clutching his child to his chest as the young, exhausted country slumped against one of the only true parents he had ever known. Berwald laid a hand on his son's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the American's back as Matthias, Lukas, and Emil watched close by as the little boy they raised was put through emotional hell. Being pulled one way then another, being lied too, having excuses thrown at you left and right. England was the master of lies and excuses, Norway thought darkly as he looked into the meeting room, so it was no wonder he'd gotten Alfred to forgive their little group.

"Kan du ta Alfred ut til bilen? Jeg har noen forretninger med England jeg foretrekker han ikke se." Lukas glanced at the other Nordics, giving a meaningful look toward the Englishman who sat alone in the conference room, "I'll be out soon."

"Of course." Denmark smiled icily as Finland looked up from Alfred and nodded his approval.

"Join us as soon as you are done." Tino smiled slightly, "Take your time, though."

"Don't worry, I will."

As his family walked away, Lukas turned and entered the room stiffly, staring at England with cold eyes. The man looked up, raising one bushy brow, and sighed slightly, "I don't have any time for nonsensical yelling, Norway, surely you have more sense than the others anyways."

Inwardly twitching at his family being insulted by the Englishman, Lukas sighed deeply, "You don't deserve forgiveness."

"I'm afraid that isn't your decision." The green eyes nation sniffed, "It's America's. We're his family, have been for the past two hundred years. I raised him, fed him, made him strong. France and I raised those boys together, and despite whatever small arguments we have we're a family, his family."

The magic wielding Norwegian laughed bitterly, "We raised him since he was a baby. Nearly four hundred years, before you came along and stole him from his home, through a memory-altering spell no less. He was never yours, he was never ours. He's America, always has been and always will be. However, we are his family. His real family. We don't belittle him for foolish reasons or insult him or throw him out when he's only looking for affection. You claim to be his father, yet when he comes looking for the love of a family from you all he comes away empty handed. He's barely a boy, still very young, and he needs those who care about him surrounding him. That's not you. I'd advise you stay away from him, despite what he has decided."

Puffing up slightly, England raised his eyebrows as Norway spoke more than he'd ever heard the normally cold nation speak, "You cannot make decisions for him. Besides, of course, we love him! He knows he can always come to us-!"

"Yet you kick him out on Christmas."

"He likes to spend the holidays alon-!"

Norway narrowed his eyes, "When he managed to get into the house you threw him out."

Sputtering momentarily, England huffed, "I do not need to explain myself to you."

"You do if you want to be allowed around America ever again." Norway's tone was clipped, eyes practically glowing with hatred, "I will not allow you to hurt him any longer. He's my brother, and I will protect him even if he's older now and doesn't really need it. He never stopped being a part of our family, and you've never really accepted him into yours. You make him upset so often, cause him so much pain it's a wonder he forgives you."

"Norway, I'd ask if you didn't get involved in family matters." England smiled in a petty manner, "You won't win this argument."

"I've grown tired of this back and forth." Lukas eyes the man dully, "You've offered no explanation for your actions and honestly you've just angered me more. Troll, ta ham, vær så snill."

England was jerked back by an unseen force, thrown backward onto the table. The former pirate clambered up quickly, hands glowing and eerie shade of blue, "You're not the only one with magic, Norway, you should know that."

"Oh, I assure you, I do. Mine is far more potent, I'm afraid, and if you so much as step one toe out of line, well..."

A shimmering green haze filled the spot behind Norway, a hand like shape reaching over the nation's shoulder and towards England. Eyes could be barely made out in the green vision, cold and dark and menacing. An oppressive force slammed down onto the Englishman as if suddenly he were Atlas forced to hold the weight of the entire world.

"Well, let us hope, for your sake, that doesn't happen."

England stood tall as Norway began to exit the conference room, calm and collected as ever as though he hadn't just summoned a magical troll to rough England up. The bushy-browed man scowled, "I can just tell America, you know."

Norway looked over his shoulder, "Go ahead, it may be painful but he needs to learn that some relationships are better off severed. He'll have my family and I with him, though, to lighten the blow."

"D'you think Mattie is mad at me?" Alfred murmured into Denmark's shoulder as he sat in the back of Finland's rental car, "I missed our hockey game."

The Dane laughed lightly, "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Sitting up, the American shook his head, "I don't know. I haven't really spoken to him much and he's been upset with me and I've pretty much been blowing him off-"

"And he's been blowing you off for much longer." Emil quietly spoke up, the Icelandic nation pursing his lips, "I think he can forgive you this one time."

Finland sat in the front seat, fussing silently at the tone of Alfred's voice and sharing concerned glances with Berwald, the Swede not knowing what to do as they all sat there and waited for Lukas to return. Finally, after fifteen minutes of Mathias and Emil convincing him that everything would turn out fine and Tino assuring him that, yes, Canada will forgive him, Norway exited the conference building with a slight smirk playing on his normally emotionless face. Sliding into the back seat with America, Denmark, and Iceland, he shrugged off questions, saying he had some nonsensical business with the Netherlands. Nobody questioned it, and Finland sped off the where the nations were staying at a hotel. Amsterdam was bustling this time of day, car horns beeping loudly and noise attacking him from every direction, but Alfred felt his eyelids droop. Months of physical and emotional exhaustion...he gave into the deep abyss of sleep and was lulled to sleep by the sound of moving tires and Denmark's loud voice.

"Alfred? What are you doing here so late-?" Canada's violet eyes were wide, blinking at his brother owlishly.

Christmas of 1988, America thought as he looked around through his own eyes at Canada's house; a modest one, for sure, but a lot better than his two shithole apartments he'd owned back in the seventies. One in New York and one in his capitol, both the cheapest he could find and not exactly the lap of luxury. He'd only bought his current apartment in the nineties, and even still Matthew's was much nicer as it was in a more rural area instead of right smack in the middle of a huge city. Snapping back into focus when he heard his own voice, Alfred allowed the memory to play out before him, unable to change anything.

"Well, it's kinda late but I figured since Francis and Arthur were coming over today I would too!" America felt his shoulders shake with laughter, "Family Christmas, ya know?"

"Oh, okay." Canada smiled slightly, "Come on in, then! I have your present-"

"I do, too!" Alfred smiled widely, holding up his bag, "Not Christmas without presents, huh?"

Rolling his eyes, Matthew stepped aside to allow his brother into the house. Just then, Arthur came around the corner with Francis, the two bickering over one thing or another.

"Who was at the door?" Arthur snapped, tearing his eyes away from the Frenchman then glaring slightly, "Oh, hello, America."

"Artie!" Alfred's smiled grew wider, "Hey, Francis! I figured I'd swing by, Mattie mentioned something about dinner and said y'all were coming over! Figured we could have a nice Christmas, like old times!"

"You all, not y'all!" Arthur sniffed slightly, "Please stop butchering the Queen's English!"

Francis laughed airily, "Not much of a language, to begin with, mon cher!"

As the Englishman's face began to turn red, Matthew stepped in quickly to spared everyone the argument, "Dinner is in the kitchen! Why don't you hang your coat up, Al?"

Before anyone could say anything, England rolled his eyes, "He doesn't have enough manners for that! Goodness, Alfred, can't you call in advance before you just drop by? Your brother nearly dropped a pie out of the oven trying to hurry and answer the door."

Alfred cringed, "Sorry, Mattie."

"Really, it's fine." The Canadian patted his shoulder tensely, "Now, everyone, please go to the kitchen."

The night progressed like that, heating up even more when France brought out the wine and England's lips loosened further. A few insults here and there, hints at how rude he was, how he was an ungrateful child for leaving and that whole 'revolution business' as Arthur liked to call it. The usual for when England gets drunk, basically. When it was about time for bed, the four sat down to exchange presents. The older of the four were very much tipsy, and basically saying anything that came to mind. As Matthew handed his presents to England and France, he looked at his brother quizzically.

"Why did you come?" Canada asked, tilting his head slightly, "You've never shown up before."

Alfred laughed slightly, "Well, I've never been invited before."

Both brothers ignored Arthur's mutter about how there was a reason for that, though Alfred did so with a much heavier heart as Canada continued, "Well, you're always-"

A huff interrupted them, "Always barging in places you don't belong. Just love to torment your family, hmm, Alfred?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, America shook his head, "You're drunk, Arthur."

"No, I'm tipsy!" The green eyed man snapped back, "Still, not tipsy enough to forget how you try to weasel your way back in after you left!"

"Canada is independent, too, if you remember." The American shared a tired look with his brother, "He's just like me."

"Well, I wouldn't say just like you." France murmured into his glass of wine, "More polite for starters."

"And he asked for independence! Nicely, if I remember!" Arthur snapped, bitter as he sipped more wine, "Not like you with your upstart war and the like."

"I asked too, at first." Alfred raised his eyebrows, defensive, "I thought we were over this!"

"You demanded!" England rolled his eyes, "You always demand. Demand to be a part of this family, demand freedom, demand everything. I don't-!"

"Al." Canada grabbed his arm gently, pulling him off as England continued his drunken tirade, "Maybe you should go, escape him while he's yelling nonsense."

"Oh...Okay." America tried to force a smile, pain wriggling in his chest, "I'll go, then. Just...give them my presents in the morning."

"I'll drop by tomorrow or the next day." Matthew assured when he saw his brother's dejection, "I promise."

Canada never showed up the day after that, or the one after that, or the one after that. Alfred never got invited over again for holidays, and he never got invited over again in general. Just when he barged in. His brother was busy, he assured himself, so were his fathers. France and England always made it a point to stay at Canada's house when the conferences were there, though, and they never stayed with Alfred. That was when he accepted it; he was the ostracized brother. No point in denying it now. He wondered if he'd ever be welcomed back into his family back then, wondered if he'd ever be allowed home. Now he knew better, now when he was dragged from his sleep and the memory he just smiled.

He woke up when Finland reached back and tapped his shoulder, "Alfred, we're at the hotel!"

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he leaned off Denmark's shoulder, causing the Dane to laugh as Alfred ambled out of the car behind Norway. Going to their room, Denmark laughed at something making Norway glare while Iceland watched fondly, and Finland and Sweden walked hand in hand. Alfred just observed his family, sitting back and drinking in the sight of his mother and father and brothers and uncle. The made their way through the hotel, already packed with the other nations who had been at the meeting. Walking through the lobby, Alfred felt eyes on him and when he glanced up he saw none other than France and Canada staring at him in confusion and hurt.

"Hey, um, guys?" Finland and Sweden turned as the others were preoccupied with bickering, "I'm gonna go, um, sort some things out."

At this, the others looked up and Denmark, surprisingly, was the one to frown and speak out, "Don't do like you did with England. They hurt you so much, they don't deserve any forgiveness."

Alfred cringed a bit, then sighed and shrugged helplessly, "I mean...they've been my family too. I get it, they're not the best, but I'd like to repair bridges. I don't want to ostracize them like they did me."

Tino's brow furrowed, "If you think it's for the best..."

"I do."

So he charged over there, or more like walked as confidently as possible, and eventually stood in front of Francis and Matthew, both of whom looked at him like they were betrayed and hurt. Something in his gut twisted, not guilt but anger. He remembered that Christmas night vividly now, and he couldn't help but think they were hypocrites. Them and Arthur. Biting his cheek, he banished those thoughts and remembered why he was here. He'd forgive them, just like he forgave Arthur. Maybe he'd even apologize to them as he did England, say sorry for any hard feelings or times he ignored them. Tell Mattie he owed him a hockey match.

"Listen, guys-"

"How could you?" Francis burst out before Alfred could get a word in edgewise, "You let them yell at Arthur, accuse him of things and make things seem twisted! He's not come back yet, you know! We don't know where he is!"

"P-probably still at the conference room. That's where I left him." The American took a deep breath, chalking it up to France being concerned about Arthur's whereabouts, "Listen, I patched things up with him earlier-"

"And now you want to do the same with us?" Canada looked at him with sad eyes, "Alfred, I don't know."

Blinking, America took a step back, "What do you mean?"

"Everyone else already forgets me." Matthew muttered just loud enough for Alfred to hear, "I couldn't believe my own brother did as well."

"It was a mistake-!"

"A pretty big one-!"

"Like you're innocent Matt-!"

"You forgot our hockey game, it's tradition-!"

"You never visit me-!"

"I've visited you plenty-!"

"Name one time!"

The yelling between the brothers boiled over, leaving Alfred and Matthew staring at each other with wide eyes. The Canadian opened his mouth to respond confidently, the closed it soon after. He faltered in his stance, appearing to be in deep thought as he retraced all the times he'd been with his brother.

"1991." Alfred pursed his lips, "That's the last time you came over to my house. One of the few times I can count on two hands."

The Canadian cringed, "Alfred, you come over all the time."

"Maybe I don't want to be the one constantly vying for attention!" Alfred let out a shuddering breath, "Maybe I want to be wanted! Maybe I want you all to come to me for once! Maybe I want to get through one day without being directly or indirectly insulted by one of you!"

"I've never purposefully insulted you, Al!" Matthew jerked back like he'd been hit, "I get frustrated with you sometimes, but-!"

"Maybe I want to come over for Christmas." The American's voice lowered, and Canada's eyes widened, "And maybe I'd like to not get kicked out because Arthur and Francis have had too much wine. Maybe I'd like to at least get an invite. Maybe you should drop by afterward when you say you will. Maybe I could actually be a party of your family. Maybe you could tell England to stop with that 'you want to celebrate alone' bullshit."

This time he didn't end with a shout, but with a whisper. France looked at him, stunned, before glancing between the two brothers for awhile. Murmuring sorries in French, he rushed off leaving only Alfred and Matthew, who had both become rather misty eyed. The Canadian opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, at a loss of what to say to his brother who stood before him. Glancing away, America sighed.

"Believe it or not this isn't what I wanted to do." Alfred muttered, knowing his brother would hear him, "I-I forgave Arthur. I wanted to forgive you guys too. But I just...I didn't do anything wrong!"

Canada sighed, blinking away tears, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry I've made you feel unwanted. I know France and England...I should stand up for you more. I should insist we invite you. I shouldn't give them a choice. I'm sorry. I should've come over after that Christmas. I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry..."

"Prove it?" Alfred suggested, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I forgive you and them but...this is the last time. Last shot. I can't keep getting walked over. Just...prove you're sorry. Please, I really want to believe you are."

Matthew swallowed and blinked rapidly, "I will. I'll-I'll...I think it's time to draw a line with England and France."

"Take a stand, I guess." Alfred laughed weakly, "I've gotta go. Just...remember this, okay? I don't want to lose my brother because of their fuck ups. Just...at least make an effort. That would be enough."

"I will." The Canadian nodded, "I promise, Al."

The American walked away, head held high despite the stares sent his way from other nations in the lobby. France had long since fled, and the only ones not looking at him like he had a second head were the Nordics. As he approached, Finland reached a hand out and set it gently on his shoulder. They got in the elevator. They found their room and didn't bother unloading their baggage from the rental car yet. Alfred waited for the door to shut before he dissolved into tears in his mother's arms.

Tino just held his son as everyone stood near, not hugging or weeping with him or screaming. Just being there.

Because sometimes just being there is all it takes.

A/N: LOTS of you were concerned about Alfred forgiving England so easy; it boils up in this chapter and overflows in the next. FCE don't get off easy, well maybe Canada but he's a wee bit of a follower as you can probably tell. Let's hope he takes a stand and makes the right choices, huh?

Question of the Chapter: What will Canada do after this? What about England and France? What will happen at the meeting the day after this?

TRANSLATIONS:

NORWEGIAN~

"Kan du ta Alfred ut til bilen? Jeg har noen forretninger med England jeg foretrekker han ikke se." = "Can you take Alfred out to the car? I have some business with England I would prefer he not see."

"Troll, ta ham, vær så snill." = "Troll, take him, please."

FRENCH~

"Mon cher" = "My dear"