"We won bro. But I guess you knew that already." Alfred stood before the little stone they'd used to temporarily mark his brother's grave. Kumajirou had personally picked the spot, in the woods to the southwest of the Hudson Bay. 'Where I first found him.' He'd explained quietly.

So now, the American stood before the plain grave that was all that was left of Matthew Williams. "I'm gonna get you a better headstone made. I was thinking of making it a kickass maple leaf, sound…sound good?" At the end, his voice started to waver and break, and tears swam in his vision. "Damn it! It wasn't supposed to end like this!" His legs gave out under him, and the tears now flowed freely. "We were supposed to kill that bastard and be the big damn heroes! You were supposed to be safe! You were supposed to be the awesome techie and the getaway driver! We were gonna go home, and I'd fight with Ivan all the time because I didn't like you loving a commie, and you'd yell at me that Russia's been a democracy for decades!"

He was so wrapped up in what was supposed to be, that he missed the faint footsteps approaching where he knelt. "And I'd make fun of you until you snap and beat me with a hockey stick, and I'd have to explain the bruises to my boss, and he won't believe me. But then you'd apologize with pancakes, and your bear would eat more than I could and… Damnit Mattie! You're supposed to be here!"

Arthur's hand fell on his former colony's shoulder, his own face an unreadable mask. For a while, the two remained in silence like that, broken only by the sounds of the forest around them.

Once the flow of tears slowed, Alfred got back to his feet, albeit a bit shakily, and turned to face Arthur. No surprise showed in his face at who stood behind him, as if he'd been expecting the Brit to show up to comfort him all along. "Why Mattie, Arthur? Why couldn't it have been-?"

"Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare." He pulled Alfred into a fierce hug. "Nothing would have been different if it were you, Alfred! If it had been, I'd be saying the exact same thing to him. All this self-sacrificing will get you nowhere!"

Fresh tears started as Alfred hugged the man back. "I know. I just…I don't know what else to do Artie. He's my little brother."

"Just keep going forward. That's all we can do. Just keep going until the way is clear again."

{}}{{}

The first world conference after the fact, was the most quiet, sombre one in recorded history. Nearly every nation present wore black, and no one spoke, unless giving a speech. The empty seats that would normally belong to those who had been lost sat like gaping holes amongst the living.

As much as Alfred wanted to think that he'd lost the most, it didn't take a genius to see that Feliciano was suffering more than anyone. Not only had he lost both Lovino and Ludwig, but he was struggling with shouldering the blame for all that had happened. Sebastian had disappeared the night everything fell apart, and Yao was dead. That left him and Japan as the sole nations at fault. There was almost nothing left of the chipper Italian. Like he'd been shattered.

Gilbert was in a similar state, having stepped up to take his brother's place, as well as suppressing his guilt. Alfred wasn't sure he could ever forgive the man, despite the fact that after his first fit of rage at the man, he'd been fairly civil. Antonio was being as supportive of his old friend as he could, but Francis refused to speak to him.

Oddly enough, Canada had been one of the lucky nations. He'd left behind his provinces, who were willing to collaborate to keep the nation standing. It was one of the few. Most others, like Lithuania, had been swallowed up by surrounding nations, without any reasonable explanation to give to the people. Entire cultures would soon disappear, unless another nation-person was born, which was exceedingly rare.

And so, they remained at their conference table, no one quite willing to remove the empty seats, even though everyone knew it would have to be done.

But before he could take away the chair that his brother had occupied for centuries, at his right-hand side, Alfred still had a few more places to visit.

{}}{{}

He stood on the front porch of the small house, not quite willing to ring the doorbell, but not quite ready to throw in the towel and leave. He knew that of all the places, this was the best place to start.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that he'd never really been to Ivan's home before. He'd gone with his boss to the Yalta conference, but other than that, he'd never even been in Russia.

"Well? Are you going to knock, or not?"

He jumped at the cool voice from behind him, and turned to see Natalya standing in the driveway, arms crossed. "I-I uh…"

"If you're not sure, then don't bother. My brother refuses to see anyone. Not even Katyusha or myself. Your face would just make things harder for him, so just leave." She snapped, brushing past him to open the door.

"I won't."

Natalya paused, halfway through the door. "You won't what?"

"I won't leave everything unfinished like this. Let me in."

He could've sworn he heard the Belarusian chuckle, but would later pass it off as his mourning brain playing tricks on him. "Very well."

Without another word passing between the two of them, she led Alfred through the echoing halls of the Russian's mansion, until they stopped at a dark wooden door. "His study." She explained sharply. "He hasn't left in days." A different light flashed through her eyes. Pleading? "Good luck."

Clearing his throat, Alfred stared down the door for a moment, before knocking softly. "I-Ivan?"

"Уходить." Came the cold reply.

"Damnit Ivan, don't make me break down this door, you know I can!"

There was a moment's silence, before the lock clicked, and Ivan opened the door, looking down at the American. His violet eyes were ringed with dark shadows, faintly concealing a shade of red underneath. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

He sighed, and held the door open for Alfred to enter. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Are you nuts?" He struggled to find one of the smiles that used to be so easy to come by, and pulled out something closer to a grimace. "Doesn't family have to stick together at times like this?"

"Family?" He couldn't hide the surprise, even in his hollowed-out state.

"Well, yeah. I might not have always liked it, but Mattie loved you. No matter what now, you've got me, Artie, and Frenchy. Hell, you might even have Tino if things go okay."

"Anyway, I didn't come here to comfort you. I had a feeling you'd be coping like that." He indicated a large pile of empty bottles next to the desk. "So I came to tell you to quit it. Matthew wouldn't want that."

"And what, pray tell, would Matvey do? You may have been brothers, but I don't think… what's so funny?" Violet eyes narrowed as the American started snickering.

"Obviously you didn't know him all that well. Mattie's answer for every problem was to get so high, not only did you forget there was a problem, but everything became good news."

Ivan started chuckling, despite himself. "Da, that does sound like him."

"I'd be willing to bet, that wherever he is right now, he's so ridiculously baked, he's seeing fairies like Artie."

"Don't make me jealous."

"Hey, y'know I was going to visit Will after this." The laughter faded, and the sombre cloud seemed to return. "I bet he has enough weed for the three of us."

"Нет. You go ahead. I'll make my visit another time."

"Sure." And he left, hoping that he'd at least done something to make it a little easier for them both.

Sadly, he wasn't kidding when he'd said he intended to get high when he visited Willhem.

{}}{{}

When he'd arrived in the Netherlands, Will had been out in the garden, making the approach a bit easier. The only problem was that the garden was filled with tulips. Since his last visit to Ottawa, where the festival had been innocently in swing, the citizens completely unaware of how grievous this time still was, the sight made Alfred gag.

"I figured you'd show up eventually."

"Well, I'm making my rounds, trying to tie up all my loose ends."

"Is it making things easier?"

"A bit."

"Do you plan on visiting G-"

"No." He interrupted, eyes suddenly hardening.

"You can't keep carrying that around, you know. He blames himself."

"With good reason. It's his damn fault."

He barely flinched when Willhem punched him in the jaw. "Grow up, will you? If it weren't for Gilbert, we'd all be dead now, and that bastard would be ruling the world!"

"We would've thought of something." He mumbled.

"Bullshit. We were screwed the minute you set foot in his compound, and you know it." Will suddenly clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder, narrow face very grave. "Now, you need a joint, and a good talking to."

As he was led away, Alfred couldn't help but feel like his mind had just been read.

{}}+{{}

Thanks for reading~!

God, I did not plan on this story being so angsty. Now, let me say that again, because I'm 90% sure you don't believe me. I did NOT plan on this being so angsty! If this angst were fluff, I would choke on it.

Okay, I'm thinking one more chapter to wrap everything up, (this one was just for Al) and then I say a fond farewell to this story. Which is too bad, seeing a then I won't make it to my goal of 16 chapters so I could have awesome chapter titles which explain the story's title. Oh well.

In case you were wondering, 'If we Shadows Have Offended' is my favourite Shakespearian monologue, said by Puck at the end of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and it acts as a disclaimer, saying that if you didn't like anything you saw here, pretend it was just a dream, and don't get mad at the author. I picked it because I was so worried that this story wouldn't go over well, and I wanted some sort of a scapegoat. I'll have the monologue at the end of the next chapter, just for fun.