1940.

The London Blitz.

Europe was falling to the Nazi War machine as it rolled mercilessly over the map, and countries were falling one by one like dominoes.

But I stood up and said no. That insane bastard was no going to get my proud Empire. Great Britain would stand and fight. And that's how I ended up being bombarded by bombs every night, helpless as I can do nothing to fight them. I'm caught up in pain and agony, hardly sleeping and screaming until my throat bleeds. My pilots fight against the Germans, brave and unyielding. And my pilots are helped by American volunteers, who came over here on their own accord, despite their nation not being in the war.

And their nation was here too. Alfred F. Jones was here to help.

After leaving me, being in two wars with me and dealing with my yelling and screaming at him, he still came back to help me. He came back to protect me. It just made me fall more in love with him. Of course, he wasn't aware of my feelings, nor was he aware of what the bombings did to me. He'd just go out into his plane and fight, unaware of my screaming and bleeding. I wish he could've stayed oblivious and naïve.

I'd been walking to my room, just after nightfall. I was expecting the sirens to being screaming through the night air any moment now, and I desperately needed to be in my room before it happened. I didn't want anyone seeing me at my weakest.

"Hey, England!"

I cursed internally and turned around, seeing Alfred walking toward me. He was grinning brightly, clearly with the intention of talking to me. Usually I take advantage of any opportunity to talk to him, even if it means arguing with him. But right now, I needed to get away from him; he was the last person I wanted to be vulnerable in front of. He was stronger than me already; I didn't need him seeing me so weak.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to fight?" I asked as he drew closer to me. Alfred simply smiled at me and waved his hand dismissively.

"I still have a few minutes," he replied. "I wanted to ask you something,"

"Make it quick,"

"Are you okay?"

I blinked at the question, just staring blankly at him. "What do you mean?" I inquired.

"Well, you've seemed really tired recently…not to mention your passing out a few days ago. Is everything okay?"

I opened my mouth to reply but stopped, as at that moment, the shrill sirens filled the air. No, I couldn't be here any longer; I needed to get to my room, and fast. "I'm fine, now go on, fight the Germans and be a Hero. Go on, I'm fi-," fine, I tried to say. But a pain pierced my brain, sending the whole room spinning. I stumbled, nearly falling over, but I felt arms around me, catching me once more.

"England?" Alfred asked, trying to prop me back up on my feet. I steadied my by leaning forward slightly and gripping to Alfred, my hands on his harms, clinging to the material of his jacket like my life depended on it. I tried to steady my breathing, the room still spinning, my head feeling full of cotton wool. "England?" Alfred's voice reached my ears again.

We heard a loud crash from outside, and it didn't take long for me to react. I arched my back and a scream tore from my throat, my whole body tense for a split second before I fell limp. Alfred caught me and held me tightly. "Arthur?"

His voice was full of worry, concern and …was that fear? Silly Alfred, Heroes aren't supposed to get scared, remember?...

Another pain shot through me and I let out a strangled cry, tears beginning to fall from my eyes. I think at this point Alfred figured out what was causing my pain, for he swore rather loudly and picked me up into his arms. I could tell that we were moving, but I didn't know where to. My head was spinning and my skull felt like it was splitting open. My body twitched and squirmed as pain racked through me, and I bit my bottom lip harshly, trying to prevent myself from making any sounds of pain or agony.

I felt Alfred sit on something and shift me so I was sitting in his lap. He was holding me tightly, one of his hands was rubbing my back, trying in vain to make me relax. Every muscle hurt, every twitch and every movement of my body sent pain through my body, so intense I was surprised Alfred couldn't feel it. I was clinging to Alfred; I was clinging to him tightly, holding him close as he held me tightly. I could hear his voice, he was talking to me, but I couldn't process the words. It was as if he was talking in another language, I just couldn't understand him.

I don't know how much time passed until I heard the relieving sound of the sirens again, this time giving us the 'all clear'. I could feel myself spiraling down into unconsciousness, listening to the beating of Alfred's heart and feeling his strong, warm arms holding me protectively.

When I woke up the next morning, Alfred was lying next to me. I sat up, watching him closely, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. I looked around and found myself in my room, with his jacket once more around me as a blanket. I hugged it to me and remembered;

Alfred had held me through the bombing. He'd held me and tried to protect me, making me feel safe and….loved.

I investigated myself, making sure that I had no new cut or anything. My old cut on my side had reopened, but I found fresh bandages covering it. I glanced down at Alfred again, wondering why he did all of this for me…

At that moment, Alfred turned onto his back and his eyes fluttered opened. He yawned and stretched, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He glanced at me, and there were a few moments of silence between the two of us. It wasn't awkward, though, it was almost…pleasant.

"How are you feeling?" Alfred asked me, his voice quiet, as if he was afraid he'd break me or hurt me if he spoke too loud. I hated the fact that he'd seen me so weak and vulnerable, but some things can't be helped…

"I've been better," I replied, trying to give him a smile. Alfred smiled a little in response, before moving to get off the bed. My hands tightened into fists and I held the fabric of the bomber jacket on my lap tightly, before looking up at the American as he attempted to leave.

"America," Alfred looked at me. "…Why did you help me?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, moving to sit next to me.

"Why did you stay with me? And why did you help me?" I paused, thinking over my next question. "…Why are you…Even here?"

Alfred looked down at his hands, thinking my questions over. I expected him to just look up at me and grin, replying that he was the Hero or something like that. But instead, he continued to think, his perfect blue eyes filled with thoughtfulness. It was unusual for the carefree American, but not something I found unattractive. I found him attractive no matter what…

Alfred looked up and made direct eye contact with me. His face was serious.

"It's because I care about you,"

My heart skipped a beat, but I willed myself not to get hopeful. I opened my mouth to reply, but Alfred cut me off. "Please, just hear me out," he said. I closed my mouth and nodded, continuing to watch him as he spoke.

"I'm sorry about all the times I've hurt you," Alfred continued, still staring at me. "I'm sorry about leaving you, and I'm sorry about hurting you. I'm sorry for making you hate me, I'm so sorry…But, Arthur, the truth is…I left because…I couldn't be your little brother anymore. I didn't want to be your little brother anymore,"

I know that. You wanted to be recognised as a powerful, independent nation. I know that, Alfred. I don't hate you, either. I don't hate you, Alfred, I love you…

"I wanted to be your equal," Alfred continued. "Because…Because I'd fallen in love with you,"

My heart stopped for a moment. Did I hear that right? Because he'd fallen in love with me? I wasn't just imagining things, right? Was this really happening, or was it some bomb-induced dream?

"I love you, Arthur,"

My head was spinning, but this time it wasn't from the previous night.

"I've loved you since the 1700s,"

Next thing I knew, I found myself in Alfred's arms, after practically throwing myself at him. I held onto him tightly, clinging to the fabric of his uniform. Tears were falling freely down my cheeks, and I found my voice to reply to him.

"I love you too," I said, moving closer to him. "Oh God, Alfred, I love you so much, I love you, I love you…," All of my bottled up affection for him came spilling out at once, as I continued to tell him that I love him, and I clung to him. I felt Alfred's arms wrap around my body tightly, pulling me closer and holding me protectively. I felt so safe, I felt so protected here in his embrace.

"I love you so much, Arthur," Alfred said, kissing my forehead. "I'm so sorry for all the times I've hurt you, I never meant to make you cry…,"

I looked up at him, and he moved his gloved hand to wipe some of my tears away. Then, I smiled at him. I could see the slight surprise in Alfred's eyes at this.

I haven't smiled truthfully for ages, I couldn't remember the last time I'd smiled. It felt so right though, here, with Alfred. My Alfred.

Alfred leaned down and captured my lips in a soft, loving and passionate kiss. I returned the kiss, clinging to him still. His arms were around me, holding me tightly.

I felt so protected, so safe, so loved.

And so happy.

Because Alfred was back.

My Alfred.

My Alfred had returned to me.