AN: Last half! Hoorah! ...I kinda hate this story now XD But it wouldn't leave me alone. So...yeah. Here ya go :3 Warning: bit of OOC Canada ahead.

Now, I look at my brother sitting across the room from me, some one-hundred and forty six years later, smiling and going on like it never happened, chatting with Arthur about God knows what.

Arthur. I still haven't forgiven him for helping tear my brother apart, no matter how remorseful he had been afterwards.

"What do you mean you're helping the Confederacy? Do you want Alfred to die?" I cried.

Arthur shook his head, smiling like a mad man, "I just want to see him get what he deserves. This would never had happened if he had stayed a good little boy."

I gasped. That's what this was all about? Arthur's bitterness? That was the straw that broke the camel's back and I did something that not even I saw coming.

I punched him in the face.

"Vous êtes le tuer! Vous trou de cul! Vous êtes tuer mon frère simplement parce qu'il a quitté vous! Je déteste vous! Je déteste vous! Vous arrogant, égoïste fiche de merde!"

I could feel the tears burning my cheeks, but that didn't matter now. As Arthur forced me off, I saw a large bruise forming along his jaw line. I couldn't help but smile a little at my accomplishment.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Matthew? It's just a little Civil War! Alfred will get his just desserts and then he'll be fine," he said.

I laughed bitterly, "You think that, don't you old man? Come with me," I walked to Alfred's bedroom were he was laying on the bed, mismatched eyes open and glazed over, staring into nothingness. His brow was coated in sweat, and his breathing was labored. Blood had begun to flow from fresh wounds, bullet and blade alike. A battle was raging inside.

From behind me I heard the Englishman stop. I didn't' have to turn around to know the look on his face, but I did anyway, if just for the gratification.

"You see it now…" before I could finish, Arthur ran over to the bedside, and stroked the wound marring Alfred's pale face.

"My boy," he said, "My boy, what have you done?" I saw the empire's shoulder's stiffen as he remembered his words from moments ago, "Oh heaven above, what have I done? It shouldn't be this bad!" he turned to me, green eyes now wet, "I helped fuel the fire, didn't I, Matthew?"

All I could do was nod as Arthur began to shake my brother and beg him to come back.

Billy and Johnny may have only been around for four years after that, but I know better. They're both still there. I can see it. Sometimes Alfred's eyes will flash a different color, or his accent will change. I haven't let him near a knife since 1865. I'm too scared too. I'm afraid that if given the chance, those imposters will come back, that my brother will be gone for good.

Especially since Johnny was such a sore loser.

They stood there, panting. The left side of their body was sagging, almost like a stroke patient's would. Johnny's grey eye was dulled, but that gleam was still there. On the right, Billy was holding his own, his side of Alfred's mouth set in determination as he listened to the other half scream.

"I ain't goin' down that easy, ya hear me ya damned Yankee? I'll be back! THE SOUTH SHALL RISE AGAIN!"

Then, he went slack, dragging the rest of the body with him. The Union had won.

Johnny's threat is still very present in my ears, especially now as I trace the outline of Alfred's scar down the center of his face. He uses some kind of makeup to cover it these days, but to me, it will never be hidden. The only thing more alert in my memory is the day I got my brother back.

Two days after the end, I was waiting for Alfred to wake up. My head was buried in my hands as I prayed to every god, goddess, and saint that I'd ever heard of that he would be okay. When I felt calloused fingers brush my arm, I knew someone had heard me.

"A-Al?"

His right eye opened first, revealing that same navy hue. My heart almost stopped.

"B-B-Billy?"

He just shook his head, and I watched an iris almost as black as the night sky fade to the clearest of blues. Then slowly he sat up, rubbing his face before turning fully to me and blinking both eyes open. Both matching sapphire eyes.

I was excited, but I had to make sure. So I poked him in the side right were I knew it would get me a reaction.

"Eep!" he squealed, "What was that for Mattie?"

He was blushing furiously, but I didn't care. He had yelled at me in one voice. His voice. For what seemed like the millionth time lately, I cried. But the tears weren't from fear, or sadness. No, they were happy and relieved.

"Mattie?"

I looked up, matching his gaze, "You scared me, Al," I traced my finger down the now healed wound, from hairline to chin, "You scared me bad. I thought I was going to lose you forever.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "but it's okay now. I'm okay."

Then just like I had wished he would that fateful April day, Alfred held me.

AN: Terrible ending is terrible v.v Anyway, if I ever get the inspiration too, I WILL be going back and fixing this fic. But for now, I hope you guys at least liked it (:
Translation for Matt's freak out: "You're killing him! You ass hole! You're killing my brother just because he left you! I hate you! I hate you! You arrogant, selfish peice of shit! " ...yeah...I broke the Maple. Also, does anyone have a suggestion for a better title? Do ya? Do ya? owo

Please review! *waves around plushies*