So here he was. In what used to be Spain's office within the walls of Intramuros and sitting across from him behind the desk was the girl who just hours ago thought of him as a hero, who just hours ago said she loved him back. She didn't try to hide the hatred in her eyes neither did she hide the papers that detailed America's claim on her that had apparently been sent to her overnight by an informant. He opened his eyes to meet hers; those brown eyes of hers that used to reflect the hero that he thought he was now reflected his guilt and increased the self-loathing he felt. "Maria, please let me explain."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, Jones. Explain this shit to me." Her voice was hard and stern. Alfred was taken aback both by her formality and her swearing. My sweet, innocent Maria, what did I do to you?

"I promise your independence. Soon. But it's just that-"

"-it's just that you think I'm inferior. Is that it, Jones?" she felt obligated to continue, her voice dripping with blatant disgust.

"No, Mari-"

"You think I can't handle my country on my own. You think I won't be able to satisfy the need of my people. Do you know their needs, Jones? Do you want me to tell you?"

Alfred prepared himself, sure of what she was about to say.

"One, we need our freedom. Two, we need to feel safe in our own land without having to bend over backwards to make sure crap like you don't hurt us. Three, we need our own power." She paused, and then slammed her fist on the mahogany desk as she stood up. "We do not need your pity. We do not need your opinion. We do not need your power. And least of all," Alfred's hands balled into fists, bracing himself. "We do not need your love."

The loud smack of skin and skin colliding rang throughout the room. Alfred had slapped her, hard enough to knock her head back. She bent her head, he couldn't see her emotions. Oh god, was she crying? "Maria, I'm sorry. Please, please… C-can't we put this behind us? Don't you remember our time spent together? Don't you remember the memories of just yesterday?"

There was a pause. "Do you know what women do as a sign of moving on and forgetting, Jones?" Maria still had her head hung. Her breathing was even and deep. In one quick motion, she unsheathed her bolo from her waist and grabbed her hair; she slashed at it, cutting it just above her shoulders, missing her neck by mere inches. She held her hair in her hand, looked right into the blond man's eyes, she let go of the black curls and they fell straight into the trash can. "This is what they do, Jones. They cut off the part that they were most attached to; just like how they cut off the memories they want to forget."

Alfred could feel his heart break and even though he hates to show any sign of weakness, he let one stray tear fall. The look in her eyes were cold, stern, determined. "Don't make me say this again, Jones. Get off of my damn land."

He was exhausted to say the least. Did she realize how it wasn't in his original plan to claim her Philippines? Did she realize that the only reason he helped her in her revolt against Spain was because he was concerned for her, because he didn't want her to get her? Did she stop to realize that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as happy with the decision himself? He calmed himself, a hero is fearless, he reminded himself. "You realize that the Japanese are here, don't you?" he said in a monotone. He meant what he said the night before; he would stay with her until she needed him, regardless of how much she wanted him there.

"Yes. I'm well-aware."

"You realize that unlike Antonio," … Or me, he wanted to add. "who had deep feelings for you, the Japanese might not be as merciful to your people?"

"Yes."

"Your guerrilla tactics won't be enough this time, you know."

She flinched and sighed, for a second forgetting the fury she had for the man who was, surprisingly, pointing out logical deductions. She slumped back down on her seat and put a hand to her forehead, massaging it as she felt a headache coming through. She was anything but a person who thought of her future, she liked to live in the moment, per se and her emotions tended to weigh heavily on her during moments of critical thinking.

She stared at the blond across from her and noted that he wasn't wearing his signature bomber jacket. If anything, he looked very semi-formal for a man within range of an impending war with his sky blue polo and black slacks. For a moment, she let herself believe that those bright blue eyes assured her her protection, that his dazzling smile could somehow make the threat of a Japanese invasion disappear, that his mouth could say nothing else except for words of comfort and love. She wondered if she was making the right choice.

Will Alfred really give her the freedom that she has longed for? If so, how long will it take? Would she rather give her country to the man who had betrayed her or to the unknown and unpredictable Japanese? This was a crucial decision, she knows, but was it really for her to make? For 300 years, it was always Antonio who dealt with the difficult matters. And even during the revolution, all she did was support the heroes whose name will forever be immortal to her people. She was afraid, it wasn't in her nature to decide life-altering matters, heck, it wasn't even in her nature to be in a war, really. Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes from the thought that her decisions might threaten the well-being or lives of her people but she managed to fight the liquid crystals back.

"We'll manage to hold our own." she said with finality, both begging the man in front of her not to remind her of her future troubles and to leave her alone. But there was something in the way her tone changed, how she switched from a person able to command the greatest fleets with just the power of their voice to the fragile, considerate woman who wanted only the best for her people. Alfred noticed and decided not to push the matter any further.

He turned on his heels and slowly headed for the door. The sounds of his heavy footsteps echoed within the walls of the almost empty room. The American was practically dragging his feet, as if his body has not come to terms with his decision to oblige to her wishes. He stopped by the door, for a second noticing how incredibly cheesy and cliché his planned exit was. He took a deep breath as he changed his plan.

He turned his head to see her. She was sitting back in her chair and biting her thumb while her other hand drummed on the large desk in front of her, her now short hair covered her dark brown eyes but Alfred knew she was watching him leave.

He flashed a grin and gave her a thumbs-up. "I know my help's something you won't ever want to need, but I think I should tell you that whether you want me to or not, I will rush to your rescue," his grin grew wider, "like a hero rescues his leading lady."

Get out, Jones.

He opened the door but lingered a moment further. "And I think this is pretty obvious but I promise you this won't be the last you'll see of me,"

Oh, god. Get out, Alfred.

"When your heart calms from all the chaos and disorder, and you find it within yourself to forgive me," he continues, oblivious to the chaos and disorder he's causing within the girl's heart as they speak.

Please, get out now, Alfred.

"I promise you. I shall and will return." With that he flashed a loving smile at her and left the room, closing the door gently as he did so.

… Get out before my determination completely wavers from your words. She couldn't fight them back anymore, her tears, and they fell continuously as she sobbed silently. She listened closely to his footsteps as they faded away in the empty corridors before she finally made an attempt to wipe at her tears. Her hands stayed over her eyes as she calmed herself. She had just lost something she didn't realize was that important to her. And it wasn't her hair.

A/N: Yes, I know the war against Japan was already on-going when McArthur said "I shall return." I really didn't plan this story out because, as I've mentioned, it was supposed to be a one-shot. I HAVE NO CONCRETE IDEA FOR A PLOT, oh my god. I just keep typing and typing. I hope you like my jibber-jabbering though. I am trying my best.

Let's see... I would like to thank Queen's Love of My Life for helping get me into the sad, mushy mood used in the chapter lol.