Heeey guys, long time no see. Your amazing reviews continue to humble me and I hope that this chapter is to your liking. Sorry it's taking so long, but like I mentioned I've got so much going on in real life that updates will be slow going. ,':] You can't stay mad at that face…Can you? D:

To be honest this chapter was a challenge for me to write. Zero muse. Back from two week vacation though! MORE UPDATES TO COME.

Alfred fidgeted on the bed, toes tapping restlessly against the wood beneath his feet. The long, almost unbearable journey to the states had dragged on even longer due to a certain someone. Prussia was to thank for that. When Alfred wasn't being forced to run around doing the strangest of tasks, he was having to duel the crazed Germanic nation and often got doused in salt water for losing.

Thankfully Washington had forced his way onto the vessel with Prussia, and during the voyage had started getting along rather well with some Prussian General. Alfred had a feeling that it was only the two men's friendship that kept Prussia from pushing him even harder.

Finally the whole thing would be over and he'd be back on his lands. This time with allies, and the supplies to fund the revolution. His second revolution he supposed. Alfred sighed and got up, walking out of the cabin he shared with Gilbert and onto the deck.

The sun had just begun to rise and he felt his mood lifting as well. Land was in sight, and a little bubbling feeling in his chest reminded him that he was finally home again.

"Gracing us with your presence at last."

Alfred sighed and turned to face Prussia, who was standing a few feet away.

"Uh huh." Early on he'd found out that it was way easier to deal with Gilbert if he just agreed with him. Arguing was pointless, and besides most of the comments involved him rambling on about how great he was. It wasn't too hard to pretend he cared or was even listening.

He walked past Gilbert as he chattered on, making noncommittal noises in response whenever there was a pause. Alfred leaned forward, hands on the rail of the ship. Land was so close, and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself to it and promise to never ever leave again.

Gilbert had stopped talking again. "Well?" The Prussian prompted with an impatient tapping of his foot.

"Yeah, sure." Alfred supplied instantly. Gilbert's eyebrows rose, a wicked smile on his face as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Really?"

That was not a good response from Prussia. Alfred's eyes narrowed, "Er on the other ha-"

Then Prussia grabbed him, one arm locked around his neck. "You haven't been listening to anything I've said you little brat!" His knuckles were ruthlessly digging into the top of Alfred's head.

"Ow! It's your fault for not paying more attention to me!" Alfred flailed, trying to dislodge him.

Another wrong answer it'd seem. "As if you need the ego boost you-"

Someone cleared their throat and both America and Prussia stopped to look up and see who it was. Washington stood there with a neutral expression on his face, eyeing them with disapproval before walking off.

Without a word Gilbert let go of Alfred.

"I really do listen-When it's important stuff, and it's not that I don't app-"

Prussia rolled his eyes, waving one hand in the air. "Drop it kid. Just don't let me catch you at it again, right?"

Alfred nodded as Gilbert then walked off as well…Wait a second. He hadn't said not to ignore him, just not to get caught ignoring him. Prussia may be creepy, but at times he was downright awesome. Just not to the extent he always claimed himself to be.

They were docking in Virginia, where the docks were currently controlled by Americans. The British Navy was stretched thin as is, and the colonists seemed to take like ducks to the water.

Just to be safe they were arriving close to dusk.

Alfred looked over his shoulder towards the open waters with a wary expression. It was only a matter of time before Arthur would arrive.

Days after their arrival, word of Spain docking in South Carolina reached them. Which meant that France would be showing up soon. Hopefully.

Prussia was even worse on land when it came to training. Alfred heaved a sigh as he stood doubled over in the muddy field. He held up one hand in mock surrender as he caught his breath.

"B-Break." He gasped out.

Prussia's laugh was beginning to get on his nerves. The albino strutted over and threw an arm around Alfred's shoulders to help pull him upright. "Yeah you've done well for today. Haven't even moaned about your precious General leaving."

His eyes widened.

"Washington?"

Gilbert nodded, one hand ruffling at Alfred's hair before he roughly shoved him aside. "What other General do you obsess over?"

George-Leaving? Since when? He looked around the camp, desperately hoping to see him somewhere. While Prussia babbled on about some war or the other Alfred bolted off in the direction of Washington's tent.

Mud was not easy to run in. In fact, it was the opposite of easy. He kept slipping and lost his balance a few times as he sprinted at full speed.

At least the mud slowed him down significantly when he slid to a stop in front of Washington's tent. The General had insisted on having camping with the rest of the soldiers. It was a minor miracle that Alfred hadn't completely run past it the first time.

He didn't bother announcing himself before he threw aside the tent flap and stormed in.

"Ah ha!" Alfred shouted, pointing at the General who was packing up his things. "Caught red handed." He took in a steadying breath, one hand on his hip. His muscles ached from the sudden sprint across the camp.

George straightened, and arched one brow. He eyed the dirty, disheveled nation before him. "I was going to tell you before I left."

He sounded calm, reasonable. It had no effect on Alfred's frazzled nerves. "Right before you left? I had to hear from Prussia that you were just…Just leaving." Why wouldn't George be willing to tell him? Alfred folded his arms across his chest, glaring at Washington in the most threatening way he could manage.

The two looked at one another for a few moments, and then Alfred dropped the glare. "Where are you going?" His voice was much quieter than before.

With the threat of Alfred having a panic attack subsided, George returned to packing his things into his satchel. "General von Steuben and I will be headed South to aid in the rebellion." He paused to look over his shoulder at Alfred.

"They need formal training, and he can offer that to them."

Alfred sighed in understanding. "And you can rally them behind you. Right." He hunched over as he kicked at the ground with his filthy boot.

He looked up only when a hand gently settled on his shoulder. "You're going to be needed in the North, where the majority of our forces will be. After we handle the skirmishes down South we'll join back up with you."

It made sense. It was a solid battle plan strategically speaking. But that didn't make it any easier. All that Alfred could think of was his not being around to keep an eye on George, and protect him and…

"I'll be fine. You focus on getting these men into shape for fighting the British."

Alfred nodded, unable to speak past the lump that had formed in his throat. George smiled slightly and patted America on the shoulder before slinging the bag around his shoulder and walking out.

Like a dejected puppy Alfred followed after his General.

The Prussian General was already seated on a spotted horse, waiting for Washington as he spoke with his nation. Alfred sighed and took a hold of the reigns of George's horse as he slipped into the saddle easily. Acting like it hadn't been months since he'd last truly ridden.

Both Generals nodded to one another. Prussia spoke rapidly in German as George turned back to America. "See you soon."

Alfred forced himself to smile. "Sure will." The usual enthusiasm in his voice wasn't quite there.

"And thank you. For everything." George added with a good natured wink before turning and heading off, a good chunk of men following after, along with General von Steuben.

The gratitude left Alfred slack jawed. What did he have to thank him for? He shook his head in wonder, the smile slowly turning into more of a genuine expression as he turned to face Prussia.

"Ready to get your butt whooped by a backwoods country like me?"

Gilbert seemed surprised, but then he was laughing. Most likely at Alfred, as was the norm. "You are hilarious kid."

They had been moving camp slowly up north, cutting across the thin strip of Maryland and into Pennsylvania. Both Prussia and France had insisted that if they were going to make a statement, it had to be a big one.

Alfred was moving through a wooded area with a small group of Americans. He was glad to be reunited with the Rangers. Most of which he remembered from when they were first picked by Daniel Morgan himself.

It was invigorating to be sneaking about with them again. It felt like the war had never ended.

"Tsst." Alfred stopped his daydreaming and came to a stop, looking ahead to the man in charge. They were going to be sneaking around and hitting the British from behind as Prussia attacked from the front. Hard to believe Arthur was so ready to go to war again.

Did anything stop him?

Hand signals were flashed and the men split up into groups of spotters and shooters. Alfred just so happened to be the one 'spotting' today.

"Let's give them hell." The man Alfred was spotting for looked like him, or how he'd imagine he'd look if he was ten years older and aged like his people did. He grinned at the fellow blond haired, blue eyed American and gave him a thumbs up.

Both of them moved over to an outcropping. They found a good position where they could each see well enough through the bushes to pick out their targets. The spotter was more or less there to keep an eye out for officers, and make sure no Brits found their position.

Despite the misleading name, both men carried a rifle. Alfred cradled the long rifle to his chest like a child as the other man set up.

Alfred settled down on his stomach, rifle at the ready just in case. He hated actually having to do this sometimes, but…He had to do what was necessary to win. No matter what.

"They've smartened up."

The remark made Alfred snort under his breath. The British officers had started removing any medals or embroidery that would signify them to be an officer. It did little good. They couldn't blend in with the militiamen, no matter how much they tried.

"One to the left of the appaloosa horse." Alfred pointed out in a calm tone.

They waited. The leader would take the first shot, and then…Alfred inadvertently held his breath, eyes sweeping across the field as he searched for that familiar mop of blond hair. A pop sounded and then a red coat dropped.

Looked like it was time to get the show on the road.

For the most part the other man, Jackson was his name, found his target and took them out with a cool precision that was almost disconcerting. Alfred was content to lay there and watch for anyone that spotted them. So far so good.

Alfred shivered; the hair on his neck standing as a cold feeling overtook him. Rather suddenly too.

"We should move our position." His voice was a soft whisper, just to be safe.

Jackson gave a nod of the head. "Just one more."

The shot this time sounded much different. Alfred's eyes widened, but he refused to look over. The wet spatter on the side of his face could only be one thing. He pressed his eyelids shut tightly, fingers curling tightly around the stock of his rifle.

"Drop it and stand up."

That voice was like a hit to the stomach. He reluctantly left the gun on the ground, and with slow movements got to his feet.

He stood with his back to England; head tilted up enough to where he wouldn't have to see what was left of Jackson. His fingers ached to reach up and wipe away the blood on his face. Thinking about it made him nauseous.

"Turn around and face me damnit." There was that voice again, as demanding as ever.

Alfred turned to his left so he wouldn't have to look at Jackson. He should've known that Arthur would find him. It had been a bad idea to come along with the marksmen and now he'd endangered the whole attack.

The small distance between them left little to the imagination. Arthur was seething, and shaking slightly from the looks of it. He had a gun fixed on Alfred, the other he'd used to shoot Jackson already back in its holster.

Alfred almost smiled. At how familiar this was. At how nothing had ever really changed between them. Maybe it never would.

Arthur had so much to say to the brash and idiotic colony. Mostly he wanted to scream and demand how he could do something like this. After how well it had been going, after the progress they'd made. Instead the most pitiful of all his thoughts was voiced.

"You're coming home."

There was a moment of silence and then, "No."

Arthur took a step forward, face fixed in a challenge. "No?"

They'd danced to this tune before.

"I am home." Alfred tilted his head up defiantly, daring Arthur to step just a little closer. "This," he waved one hand about, "is my home."

He took in a breath. "I want to be a nation. I want to be free to be myself." Everything was rushing out. Everything he'd wanted to explain to England for so long. There was the vain hope that maybe he'd understand.

"I can't. Not as a colony. You-"

He was interrupted before he could even finish. "Were too lenient."

Alfred stared at him dumbly. "What?"

Arthur didn't seem mad anymore. In fact he seemed calm, collected. It was a complete shift from a few moments ago. He stayed where he was, lowering the gun and putting it away with practiced ease. It reminded Alfred of Francis.

"I was away often, and you had too much freedom for someone so young." Arthur sighed softly as though he pitied Alfred. It was not a feeling he liked to be on the receiving end of. "I won't make the same mistake twice. If we put this behind us we can discuss the terms regarding your…Delegates."

He was acting like they weren't in the middle of a battle. As though they hadn't fought in skirmishes leading up to this, or burnt one another's supplies. Alfred didn't know how to respond. Though there was one thing about what he'd said that had struck a chord with him.

"You're lying." He didn't wait for Arthur to question him or deny the statement. "You wouldn't let them live. We could 'discuss' 'til the cows come home and it'd do about as much good as it has before." The taxes had kept coming; his people were looked at as a means to an end. It never changed with him, never.

What looked like real sympathy crossed Arthur's face briefly. "You're being unreasonable."

Alfred was tired of dealing with this England, of the forced ignorance and refusal to accept what was right before him. So he did the first thing that came to mind to get him to have some sort of actual emotion.

"Francis never said that."

Mission accomplished. Arthur's cool exterior was gone in a flash.

Before he could so much as blink, England had surged forward and spun him to the side. He grunted as his back was shoved against a tree and shrank against it when he saw the look on Arthur's face. Sometime in those few seconds Arthur had shoved his forearm against Alfred's throat, other hand holding one of his wrists.

"Is that how you feel?" Arthur's voice sounded calm, but the look he gave Alfred was dark.

Green eyes burned into Alfred's own, a cough lodged in his throat right about where Arthur's arm was. He swallowed, meeting the other's gaze with a stare of his own.

"Define 'feel.'" Alfred even tacked on a triumphant smirk as he said so. Arthur snarled, and spun away from him, but kept a hold on his wrist. An absurdly strong hold.

"We're going home." He forcefully pulled Alfred along behind him, even as he dug his feet in. For a second America began to panic. This was not going according to plan at all. He couldn't go back with England. No one, except Prussia knew where he had gone off to. France wouldn't even know-And-And…

He yanked back on his arm, effectively stopping Arthur and holding his ground. Even if the other nation still had a hold of him. At least it was (sort of) on his terms now.

"I am home, and…And I am not going to be a colony anymore. This time I have help." His voice sounded stronger than he felt. Especially with that near crushing grip on his wrist. Anger flashed across Arthur's features and he stepped close to Alfred, chests bumping briefly.

Even if he was taller, it somehow felt like Arthur was the one looking down on him. He squared his shoulders and glared as best he could.

"I think you should listen to the kid."

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise. When had Prussia gotten here?

Apparently forgotten, Arthur let go of him and turned to look at the albino with obvious distaste. "You're involved in this?" His fingers curled into a fist at his side.

Prussia tossed his head and flashed England a grin. "Were you expecting me to be here for you?"

"Traitor."

Alfred inched away to the side, away from the two nations. There was no telling which one would snap first. Both had weapons on them, and he didn't want to be caught in the middle. A part of him worried though, for England of all people. He scowled and shook his head.

"We've got a battle to win, let's go." Alfred said this to Gilbert, who was still smiling.

"Already won kid." Prussia spoke to him without looking away from England, who was gazing calmly back. They looked like they were having some kind of deranged staring contest.

He turned back towards the battlefield, where the British army was making a retreat. His eyes lit up and he grinned. "We won!" It was just a battle, but it put them that much closer to reaching Philadelphia.

He swung around to face Prussia, but the grin faded from his face fast when he looked at the other nations. Each had a gun fixed on the other, and there was no telling who would pull the trigger first. Arthur was calm, but there was a fierce sheen to his eyes that Alfred was becoming more and more familiar with. Prussia had just as sinister a smirk on his face to match the look on England's.

Were all Europeans this crazy?

"This is stupid." Alfred declared loudly. His statement got both nations looking at him and away from each other. Which made his skin crawl, but at least they weren't about to shoot one another anymore.

Prussia eyes narrowed, but then he was grinning and putting away the weapon. "I'll be the 'mature' one then."

Arthur scoffed but did the same as well.

"It'd be senseless to shoot you after the battle." His attention shifted back to Alfred, and he frowned. "America-"

Before he could go any further, Prussia had walked over and was steering Alfred away via a firm grip on his shoulder. "Take your begging and shove it up your-"

The American bumped his shoulder back into Gilbert's chest which cut him off before he could make the situation any worse. As they made their way back to the other soldiers, Alfred glanced back over his shoulder; expecting to see a melancholy or petulant England.

Instead Arthur was standing tall, with fingers wrapped around the hilt of a blade at his hip. The look in his eyes…Alfred shivered and picked up the pace a little, forcing Prussia to do the same.

"What's your rush?" Gilbert asked with a laugh as he caught up to walk beside Alfred with a few long legged strides.

Alfred shook his head and focused on getting to the familiar safety of the blue uniforms just a short ways off.

"We're going to be meeting Francis soon right?"

The abrupt change in topic either didn't bother Prussia or he chose to ignore it. He settled an arm around Alfred's shoulders, as seemed to be his custom lately. "Sure will be." The creepy grin was back.

"Too bad Antonio is down south fighting. Otherwise our trio would be complete." Prussia sighed, a reminiscent look taking over the grin.

During the trip from Europe back to America there would be moments when Prussia was drunk enough to talk about this 'trio' thing that he had going with Spain and France. It sounded like something private, and Alfred always felt awkward whenever he brought it up.

When they reached the soldiers there was cheering as camp was set up. The other Ranges noticed Jackson's absence, but thankfully didn't ask Alfred about it-Or the blood on his face.

Prussia elected to drink with some of the Generals in celebration of their victory which would put them miles ahead of schedule. Alfred opted to clean up a little and then walk around the camp and speak with some of the other Americans. He avoided the smaller camp on the outskirts where the Rangers were.

It was well into the early hours of the morning before he headed for his tent. The camp was quiet and most all of the fires put out. Save for the few men at their night posts he was the only one awake.

Alfred stepped into his tent, yawning tiredly at the same time. It had been a long day and while he was exhausted his mind kept playing back to his brief encounter with Arthur. Falling asleep probably wasn't going to happen for a long, long time.

As he pulled off his boots, he realized someone else was sitting on his cot.

"I was beginning to think you'd be out all night ma petite colonie."

Really brief historical notes because it is late and I have classes in the morning but HAD to upload this before I went. Washington going South is a tactical move battle-wise for this story. Conditions such as unity (or lack thereof) in Southern colonists along with the British forces there being a key reason.

By this point I'm sure we all know which Prussian General he's BFFs with.

Daniel Morgan was one of the most talented battle tacticians during the Revolutionary War. He formed Morgan's Rangers which were a group of some of the most talented riflemen to be found. The Rangers were said to be unruly and undisciplined, but were darned good at what they did. Often times their camp was kept separate so as not to cause problems with the main group of soldiers. The Rangers knew America and its land better than most, and were a valuable tool in the war.