Author's Note- Hey, today is a bit of a holiday short in honor of Memorial Day. Heavily references another one of my stories (which I really should get around to finishing whenever I manage to wrap up my thesis) called Into the Coldest Night. I also briefly mention some events include in a story called In the Cradle of Storms. If your interest is tickled feel free to give those stories a read and if possible leave a comment to help me get over some of the evils of writers block. Okay, now that that has been taken care of, thank you to Guest, Guest, Melza-chan, saoirsewolf, FangirlSpotted, and BloodLily16 for leaving wonderful reviews. I am thrilled that you found that particular concept entertaining. I have a feeling the nerdy state underground may make another appearance. Perhaps at Comic Con.

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia…or Apple…or any App made by the National Park Service.

NPS National Mall

America knew that in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that Hawaii was halfway through his vigil over the wreck of the USS Utah at Pearl Harbor. America had once asked why he chose to watch over the Utah instead of its more famous sister the Arizona. The only answer that he received was that the state couldn't bear to face the USS Arizona black tears as it wept for her lost sailors. The nations could understand Hawaii's feelings, even decades or even hundreds of years some memories were simply too difficult dwell on for long.

He knew that Massachusetts would go to Bunker Hill, while Pennsylvania braved the crowds at Gettysburg. Somewhere in the Aleutian Islands Alaska was probably sitting rock over looking on one of the world's most forgotten and forsaken battlefields in the world. From Vicksburg and Shiloh, to the Alamo and Valley Forge, on Memorial Day America's states would take a break from their assigned tasks and would pay their respects to the men and women who had laid down their lives to protect their nation, their homes, their families.

Like his states, America had discovered decades ago that he required the rituals of this holiday in order to properly morn his fallen soldiers. Every year, on the Friday before Memorial Day he would dress in his army uniform and join the men of the 3rd U.S. Infantry, the Old Guard, in the task of placing a flag on each and every grave at within the cemetery. The process usually only took about three hours, but it was therapeutic work.

Unfortunately, once that ritual was completed the rest of the holiday weekend wasn't as easy for nation to stomach. The President always made sure that he had the time off, but America really didn't know what to do with himself. Knowing the deep meaning of the holiday it was impossible for him to brush it off and hit the various beginning of summer sales at the stores or try to throw a big barbecue. Stuffy wasn't going to be able to bring back the live his citizens had lost in his service and the memories of being on the battle front chased away any desire to eat.

At first America tried to barricade himself into his house and calm his trouble soul with ice cream and video games, but Halo rubbed him the wrong way and Metal of Honor brought back nightmares. In the end, the nation found himself actually breaking into to his office so that he could escape his demons through hours of monotonous paperwork. He had caught up all of his files by 2 am on Monday morning, then he had started kidnapping paperwork from other peoples desks.

Time past, the sun rose, and the skeleton crew of staff wandered in. America ignored all of this. The first thing that he really mentally processes was the White House Chief of Staff chewing him out for not taking his vacation and practically kicked him out of the building. Under normal situations the Chief of Staff would have been powerless to convince America to do anything, but right now the nation was just so tired. As he walked out into the sun, the nation let himself wander his capital city completely on autopilot.

He was knocked out of his daze when he bumped into a tour group. The tourist glared at him and the nation did his best to make a hurried apology. When he finally got himself detangled from the group, America could clearly see the mess he had gotten himself into. He had walked from his offices at the State department to the Korean War Memorial on the Nation Mall.

To be honest, his feet had brought him to the one place that he really didn't want to be on a warm Memorial Day afternoon. It was hard enough for him to visit the National Mall on a good day, when the monuments to the various wars were quiet and America had a chance to think. Right now, the loud, colorful crowd simply overwhelmed him.

Desperately search his pockets for something to rescue him from his current situation. He swore when he realized that he had left his cell phone and car keys in his office. He found his wallet which had enough cash in his pockets to catch a cab but payphones were going the way of the dodo so it would be nearly impossible for him to call someone to pick him up and he really wasn't in the mood to battle the throng of people for a cab. That left the iPad that he had tucked under his arm.

Flipping open the tablet he let his eyes scroll over the apps he had downloaded desperately trying to something, anything to rescue him. He swiped past a National Park Service App, then back tracked. He had now a viable plan. He tapped open the NPS National Mall App and brought up the historical information for the Korean War Monument. Now all he had to do was stare at his tablet and pretend to be a tourist as he was swept along with the flow of people.

America tried his very best to blend into the crowd even though he could feel his heart feel like it was breaking as he remember the ones who never came home. Not only the men whose names where etched into the rows and rows of white marble tombstones of military cemeteries or were carved into the monuments that were scattered across Washington D.C., but the men who Alfred had gotten to know on the battle's front and individuals that he had been one of the living beings to see them alive on this earth.

America often felt guilty on Memorial Day. As a nation he knew that he should morn for all of his fallen soldiers equally, but as a solider…a marine, a seaman, and air force pilot…he couldn't help but weep for the countrymen that he had been too weak to save. America the country recognized why the sacrifices of so many lives had been necessary. Alfred the person, on the other hand, would probably always feel haunted by his fellow young drummer boy taken out by a cannonball at the Battle of Mammoth, the friend who had bleed out in his arms at Bull Run, the Yorktown's pilots who flew to almost certain death at the Battle of Midway, or his copilot who was killed on impact when Alfred's plane was shot down by the Russians during the Korean War.

"Alfred…"

America looked up to see a pair of eyes from his past. Time had not treated the man who stared at him with a mixture of surprise, fear, sadness, and fascination well, but it didn't matter. America recognized the face of his Korean War squadron commander beneath the age and wrinkles.

"Yeah, that's my name don't wear it out." America said weakly unsure what else to say.

"This might be a strange question, but did you by chance have a relative named Alfred Jones who served in the Korean War, one that was lost in action?"

"Yeah…" America's mind was spinning trying to come up with a possible cover story. "My Grandfather's brother fought in the war is plane was shot down over North Korea and no one ever knew what happened to him, we never had a body to bury or anything. It was pretty rough on Grandpa Jones, as Great Uncle Alfred was his twin and all."

"And your Great Uncle was your namesake?"

America nodded with a self consciously. "When my twin brother Mattie and I were born were looked so much like Grandpa and his twin looked like as a child that they kind felt like they had to name us after them."

"I dare say you look even more like him now." He pulled out a yellowing, black and white photograph from his jacket pocket and past it over for the nation to look at.

"I guess I do." America said softly as he looked at the photograph of him posing next to his prized aircraft The Lady Liberty. He couldn't help but smile when many fond memories flying the Lady began to bubble up. They were shattered by the memory of the crash that was so intense that he could practically taste the blood, smoke, and snow. For a few moments the rest of the world completely faded away and he was back on the frozen barren mountain side.

"…I know that God doesn't take a man before his time, but that doesn't mean that I haven't wracked my brain over what I could have done differently." The pilot spoke in anguish. "How I could have protected the men under my command…"

"You did an amazing job considering the conditions you were working with…" The nation spoke without thinking tried to comfort his former commander.

"And how would you know that?" The words were filled with pain.

"Well," America scrubbed his neck with his hand, "Lt Jones sent letter home to his family. We have all had a chance to read them, and they all spoke very highly of you." America looked up into the old soldiers eyes. "No one in my family blames you for what happened and I am pretty sure that my Great Uncle wouldn't have wanted to blame yourself either. He just didn't seem like that type of guy. He didn't seem like he like to carry grudges around and he truly loved the squadron he flew with in Korea. Plus, he knew the risks that his country asked of him. In his head the risks were worth the opportunity to fly for his nation."

"You will never know how true that statement is." He said with sad smile after a long pause, then a slight twinkle entered the man's eyes. "Young man, do you mind if I ask you one last question?"

"Sure?" The nation shrugged.

"What does the F stand for?" The man said clearly embarrassed. "We never got a straight answer out of Lt Jones and it about drove the whole squadron nuts."

"Well in my family we have the joke that the F stands for Freedom." America said with a wink.

"You know what," the pilot's month split into a toothy smile and the old man gave a deep rumbling chuckled, "that is what our Alfred always used to say…"

End Note- Wishing you all a happy Memorial Day Weekend. May all of us remember to true meaning of the holiday and remember the ultimate sacrifice made by so many of our men and woman in the Armed Forces. You may be gone, but you are not forgotten.