Hey look I finally uploaded something on this... actually i already had this written out, and it just took me forever to write it out -_-' sorry. anyway, hope you enjoy this

Alfred stood in front of a large oak door, inspecting the patters in the wood with interest. He'd been in front of this door many time to know that the pattern, in a strange way, reminded him of water.

He wondered briefly if he should knock or just go in. After all George was expecting him… And it wasn't as if he knocked to begin with… But George did have that weird look of exasperation that England sometimes gets whenever he did that…

He decided that he really didn't care and opened the door quickly. Knocking was too overrated anyway.

"Hey George!" He shouted, trademark grin on his face. "What'd ya want me for?"

George glanced up from his desk, face worn and let out a sigh. "Please shut the door and have a seat America." He said, motioning to the door than to the chairs in front of his desk.

America nodded and pushed the door shut and plopped down in one of the leather chairs. "Soo… Linda said Russia agreed to help us…?" he asked, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and resisting the urge to set his feet atop the president's desk.

George nodded slightly. "Yes, the Russians have been so kind as to offer supplies. They have also agreed to send us solders if we are in need of those as well."

"That's nice… Listen George, I don't think that we should be asking the others for help…" He confessed. While it was true that he was trying to get out of being an ally with the Russian, he was also being true in the fact he didn't want anyone to get hurt because of him. He was the hero! What kind of hero lets his friends get hurt?

George was silent for a while, before he finally spoke up. "Alfred… we're trying to win a war here. Our enemy had inquired help from Japan, The Nordics, China, and…" he paused. "And England."

Alfred blinked and tilted his head to the side slightly. "Iggy…?" he asked.

George nodded. "We need someone who can back us up if any… or heaven forbid all… join the Confederates. And an alliance with Russia can help secure our chance of winning this war."

Alfred blinked again. Nothing after the mentioning of England had been caught. "But… Iggy'd never join Fred!" but there was a sinking feeling in his guy that wouldn't go away. England had never forgiven him for the Revolutionary War even after all these years. …If England ever got a chance to beat him… to get revenge… he wouldn't take it would he…?

Alfred hoped not…

"…We can't know that for sure. I recently had some… spies planted into their army, and they tell me that their leader us really interested in obtaining the support of the English. This is why we need allies Alfred…" George leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the desk in front of him and met Alfred's gaze with a serious one. "If it makes it any easier for you… during the duration of this war, think of anyone of the Nations, who alliance themselves with the enemy to be enemies. And those who alliance themselves with you as friends. As of right now, no one but your allies matter. Not England, Not Japan, not anyone unless they offer you their support.

And right now Russia is trying to be your friend. I think it would be the wisest choice for you to team up with him."

Alfred bit his lip. He'd done it before…. What George was telling him to do now, that is. In every war he'd been in, even the Revolutionary War… but ever since World War I England had almost always been allied with him. Maybe that's why he was having so much trouble coming to terms that England may be his enemy now, is because he'd only ever taken that role once…. A long time ago.

"O okay… we can let Russia help us…"

He hoped that soon a letter would come from England saying he, too, was willing to help him in this war and not Fred….

Arthur woke up with his head pounding in his skull. He groaned softly, afraid that if he made too much noise his head would punish him even more for the sudden noise.

He didn't remember drinking last night… but then again it was always hard for him to remember during the time he was drunk.

He moved his arms to tray and hold his head–that always seemed to work slightly for some reason–only to find that he couldn't

His eyes snapped open and he was glad that the room was dark. But even in the dark he could tell that this wasn't his room.

He frowned, and tried even harder to remember what happened last night. He remembered swimming… getting a call from Mr. Smith about the confederates… then leaving the office… the feeling of being watched made him take the shorter route home… arms catching him from behind and a foul smelling cloth was pressed over his mouth and nose. Then darkness.

…Did he seriously just get kidnapped…?

Arthur sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Who the hell would kidnap him? Very few people knew about the nations, and it wasn't like he had any money to give the kidnappers…

He squinted into the darkness of the room, trying to make out anything or anyone. There was a bed off to his right and something shiny in the far left corner, either a television or a camera he wasn't sure.

Sighing again, he shifts trying to get comfortable on the cold floor. It wasn't the first time he'd been kidnapped, though it had been a while…

He glances over at the bed again and wonders if he should try and make it over there, or if he should save his energy and strength in case they didn't feed him.

But he didn't want to be in such a shameful position if someone decided to come in..

Pride won over reason and he rolled onto his stomach, raised his back end into the air-a truly humiliation site if someone were to open the door- and brought his knees to his chest, lowering his arse back down. His head was pound ing even harder now and he took a few seconds to rest in that position. After a minute or so he slowly rose into a sitting position.

A stabbing pain flared in his skull and he clenched his teeth, willing himself not to cry out. He waited for the pain to pass, and thankfully, after a minute or two it did.

Taking a deep breath he shuffled over to the bed. He was glad that it wasn't far away or he wasn't sure that he would have made it with how had his head was swimming.

Getting himself on to the bed was a different story however… his arms were bound behind his back tightly and the bed was too high off of the ground to simply lie his torso on and swing his legs up. So he simply rested against it, wishing the irritating pulse in his head would go away.

Arthur shifted and rested the back of his head against the mattress he was leaning against. His eyes felt heavy and he could feel sleep calling to him, his body already tired from his struggle to the bed. They must have drugged him a lot if this was all that his body could take…

If he had been in handcuffs it would have been easier to slip his arms in front of him, but he was bound by thick coarse rope that was cutting into his wrists and holding them at an odd angle. Slipping through them would be difficult and required more energy than he had at the moment….

His eyes slipped closed again, he wished he hadn't been so careless as to let this happen. He wished he was home drinking a nice cup of tea, reading a good book, or listening to rock music. He also longed for his bed, not some bed that was thrown together.

The bed had two box springs and four mattresses stacked together on top of it. The back of his head was resting against the side of the second mattress and while it did make a good pillow for his aching head, it didn't help the rest of his body.

His eyes finally slipped closed, and he no longer had the strength to hold them open anymore. He was asleep in mere moments.

He was forced awake by a sharp kick that connected to his side, the air being knocked out of his lungs by the sharp blow. He coughed, opening his eyes to glare at what he assumed was one of his brothers. Ignoring the burning sensation in his eyes from the bright light over his head, he forced his eyes upward and froze.

The man before him grinned. "Nice to see that you're awake, highness. I've been waiting for you all day."

Arthurs head reeled in disbelief. There was no way this man was here… it just wasn't possible. He was just seeing things!"

But he wasn't, he had never doubted the things he'd seen, and there was no way he'd be able to conjure up this man just from memory alone. The crazed, evil glint in his eyes was just too real to be imaginary.

"F-Fred?" he gasped, his eyes widened in shook.

Fred looked exactly like Alfred, even more so than Matthew did. Right down to the color and length of his hair. Their eyes were the same shade of sapphire blue, and that same stubborn flip of hair that defied gravity on a daily basis was there too.

Only Texas was missing, that and the man before him was insane.

Fred's grin widened and he crouched down to where he was closer to Arthur's shocked face. "Hey there Princess, long time no see." He ruffled Arthur's hair, earning a low growl.

Arthur jerked his head back and struggled against the rope that held him from punching the man in front of him in the face.

Fred watched him struggle, an amused smirk on his face, which only angered the British man more.

"Release me." Arthur seethed. "Now."

Fred shook his head. "Nope, no can do. I spent way too much time trying to capture you to just let you go."

"My people will never support you!"

"I do not want, nor need, your people or their support. There is only one thing that I want…" He paused, the crazed look in his eyes covered up by a serious look. "And that is you."

Arthur growled again, and spit in the mans' face. "I will never help you."

Fred's eyes closed for a moment, as he wiped the spit off of his face. He back handed Arthur suddenly, sending his head to the side. The force of the blow knocked Arthur sideways and he was glaring up at Fred from the floor. "You can torture me all you want, but it's not going to work." He spat literally, sending flecks of blood and saliva at the man.

Fred gazed down at him, eyeing him uninterested before a cold smirk grew on his face. "Oh, but, you see, you have no choice but to join me. I've left you with no option but to."

"There is always a choice." He growled out, vaguely recalling that Alfred had once said that to him.

Fred chuckled, dryly. "How cute." He said, sarcastically. He reached forward and grabbed the older blond's hair in a tight fist.

Arthur grunted, wincing slight as his hair was pulled more harshly than the first time, the strands of ash blond almost being ripped from his head.

"Come on, Princess. Come sit up here with me." Fred said, grabbing ahold of Arthur's bicep, hard enough to leave a hand shaped bruise, and pulled him onto the bed.

He still hadn't let go of Arthurs's hair, and with yet another harsh yank, he turned Arthurs' gaze towards the side.

"I have something for you to watch. It was on the other day, but you were still asleep so I decided to record it for you. Ain't I nice?"

Fred had turned Arthur's head towards the television in the corner of the room. Grabbing the remote next to him with his free hand, he aimed the remote at the TV and clicked it on.

"You ready for this Princess? You ready to see how this is your only option?" A chill ran down the length of Arthur's spine, not going unnoticed by clicked a button and moved to where he would be able to see every expression on Arthur's face.

Arthur was confused when the show started. It was just a local news channel in England. What was so-

"This just in! British Prime Minister James Anderson Smith has been found murdered in his office early this morning. The minister was shot five times. Once in the heart, and four more times in the head."

Arthur gasped. Smith… was dead?

"Police estimate that the time of death was around five in the morning. They believe the killer is this man:" a picture appeared beside the news anchor. A picture o f a man with blond hair and startling green eyes.

Arthur tensed.

"Arthur Kirkland." The screen split and a video of a police officer replaced his picture. "Sir, can you tell us why this man is the suspect?" a reporter asked, speaking into the microphone than placing it in front of the officer.

"Well, we do know that Mr. Kirkland was the last one to see Mr. Smith alive. When we were called to come out this morning, we found papers that Mr. Kirkland had signed. On them he left his name, the date, and the time. When we tried to contact Mr. Kirkland, we found that he had booked a ticket to America; his flight left two hours after the murder."

"Sir, do you know if there was a motive for why he would so cold heartedly kill the minister?"

The man shook his head. "We are unaware of that reason. We are also unaware of why Mr. Kirkland signed those documents that were meant for the Queen to sign. We have contacted the American government, and let them know that there is a killer on the loose."

Arthur was frozen in shock, not even realizing that Fred had paused the tape.

Millions of thoughts were spinning around in his head. Smith was dead, having been shot. He was the suspected killer, and he was also on his way to was a criminal…

Fred was smirking, contently. Arthur displayed his emotions so perfectly. He had noticed it the first time he'd met the older Brit, all those years ago

His eyes, those of the color of absinth, told everything. They flashed dangerously when he was mad. They held an un-amused glint when he was being sarcastic or cynical.

Fred wanted to see all kinds of emotions in those eyes… He wanted to see how those eyes looked when he finally broke. He wanted to see Arthur crumble before him.

"So, Princess, how'd you enjoy my gift?" he asked, grinning.

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