Ch 6

A/N: *Yeah. I admit it. The previous chapter was quite boring. (But still necessary. D: I'm not giving up on that. ) So, to make it up to you guys, here's another chapter. :3 I'm going to aim for a chapter a day, at least. But… I have this serious condition where if I type too much, my fingers fall off, and… Nevermind. I'm just lazy. (: *

The sound of boots. Arthur rushed behind a wall as another guard group passed by him. Bloody hell! How many of them were there? An hour and a half had passed, and still no sign of Alfred. Now would be a good time for Japan's certain voice to radio in. Ah, but Arthur was alone. He turned his head, inspecting the pipes that lined the walls of the ship. He must have descended at least six decks already. Arthur's vision was already getting blurry from the lack of sleep. He tried to focus his vision on his hand through narrowed eyes, but it swam before him. His head drooped, his choppy bangs brushing into his eyes. He was trying so hard. For no good reason at all.

"Hey, where are you going?"

Arthur tensed suddenly, his half-closed eyes snapping open. He couldn't have been found!

"I need to check on the prisoner. Vice Captain's orders."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief at not being discovered, before swallowing hard. Could he mean America? He summoned up his courage and glanced around the wall, catching a glimpse of the two guards talking to each other.

"Black Sea? I'll need some sort of verification."

The shorter one seemed to be in charge, but once his companion flashed him a badge, he backed down. The taller one, whom Arthur recognized as the owner of the voice who was visiting "the prisoner" turned away with a smug smile and entered a building. He waited until the other one also turned his back, before silently flitting in after the Black Sea. It took his eyes to adjust to the almost pitch black darkness of the structure. At the end of the hallway, the Brit suddenly spotted the flickering light of a candle. At the moment, it was moving slowly. Cautiously, Arthur followed it down the long corridor. It continued for a while longer, before stopping. Ducking behind another large pipe, the Brit heard the creaking sound of an opening door.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH~!"

There was no mistaking that laugh.

"Are you here to free me? You should know that the good guys always win right? I'll definitely prevail, because I'm a hero!"

The door immediately slammed shut. Arthur allowed himself a satisfied grin. So even the enemy couldn't stand America. Who knows how much morale damage his annoying laughter had probably caused the enemy?

"Noisy twit."

"I agree. America really does need to learn how to shut up."

Arthur stepped out into the open, his guns pointed towards the Black Sea. The guard drew back, his eyes wide in fear.

"E-England! H-how'd you get here?"

"So you guys are behind the uprising, hmm?" the Brit stepped forward, his multiple eyebrows scrunched in a smirk, completely ignoring the terrified guard's inquiry, "The bodies of water? You might as well give up now. You can't take the countries, you twats."

In response, the Black Sea backed even further down the hall. There was a slight thud as he hit a wall. Arthur's evil grin broadened. The anger mark was visible on his forehead as he thought of all the trouble he had gone through both emotionally and physically to get on this ship. And, in the England's mind, it was all this poor guard's fault. It was time to unleash all of his British fury.

"I'll make you pay for making me come all the way over here to rescue America."

*Censored* *Please stand by* :3

Arthur stepped away from the unconscious body of water, the keys to Alfred's cell gripped in one hand and a candle in the other. Pausing in front of the same door the Black Sea had slammed just a second before, the Brit couldn't help but tremble slightly. In what? Anticipation? Dread?

…Longing?

It didn't matter. America was right behind this door. Steeling himself, he inserted the keys into the knob. There was that painful second of twisting, before the door swung open. Arthur's eyes widened as he caught sight of Alfred. The boisterous country had been chained to a large metal pole. His clothing was ripped and bloody and his bomber jacket was in a dejected lump beside him. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek and another wound unseen underneath the nation's hair. A small bruise was on the left corner of his lip, and others were visible lining America's bared left arm, as his sleeve had been ripped off. Noticing that he was no longer alone, Alfred glanced up, his wide eyes still glittering behind his glasses.

"England? Is that you?"

There was a silence before Arthur could force anything resembling a voice out of his throat.

"Of course it's me, you idiot."

"No need to be so mean," Alfred mock-pouted, before smiling at England, "Are you planning to untie me or are you going to stand there, staring?"

Forcing his legs to move, Arthur strode across the room, blushing furiously. He knelt besides Alfred, his quivering fingers working hard to undo the chains that bound him. America continued to smile calmly, his eyes closed, naïve trust radiating off of him. There was a slight clink, and the links slid off of the country.

"Thanks, England." He turned towards the Brit, and Arthur couldn't help but notice how deep his blue eyes were. They seemed to engulf him in the childish innocence that its owner embodied. "For some reason, I knew you'd come."

"Why wouldn't I come, you ungrateful twat?"

Suddenly, Alfred leaned over and engulfed the older nation in a bone-crushing hug. Arthur stiffened slightly in surprise, but slowly brought his arms up to return the embrace. He closed his eyes, noticing something uncomfortably hot welling in the corners of them. Alfred must have noticed too, because a second later, he drew back.

"Are you crying, England?"

Arthur's eyes shot open, and his familiar scowl returned.

"I just got something in both my eyes, you twat!"