I do not own Hetalia

Chapter 4 (The date for the story right now is June 29th, XXXX. Five days before the Fourth of July)

"Thank you, Peter, you may leave."

With that Canada dismisses the man named Peter. The man nods and does as told, striding towards the doors.

The man walks down the mirrored walls, escaping the man he was kin to before in another body. Another person. Another lifetime.

As he walks he passes a young man with shoulder length brown hair and green eyes and a nervous demeanor.

Lithuania.

The man pauses, briefly remembering that he was one of the only countries who didn't want his disso-

He shook slightly. Remembering always hurts and hurts and hurts so bad.

"Mister? Are you alright?" The voice of the male nation approaches. Green eyes look at him curiously and concerned.

"Y-yes, thank you. Just tired, that's all."

"Okay then, please get a good night's sleep," He said.

"I will, thank you."

He walks off and doesn't turn back.

Lithuania looks at him though, concerned. He wonders why his eyes had been blue for a split-second.

A brilliant oh-so-familiar blue.

/

Peter Adams runs into the apartment and throws himself onto the bed. He was so angry with himself. He had seen. Seen his eyes change from blue to brown. He was stupid, stupid, stupid.

He couldn't come back in as Peter Adams anymore. He wasn't even sure if he should come to the meeting at all. But he had to see them again. He was so lonely. Is still so lonely. Has been so lonely. He hasn't had a friend in such a long time.

And when he saw him, he remembered. Remembered a memory from a different person, from a different life. A life as a personification of a lost country.

I don't want to remember. It hurts so much.

But he wanted to be strong, and facing the past takes strength.

It's not my past anymore, it was the past of a man, a personification long dead.

Yet he knows that that was him. Him all those years ago as it was now.

I don't want to. Time has passed since then.

Yet the wounds never healed for him. They just tore open every time he tried to forget.

I'll forget it, someday. I don't why I'm here, bringing up old scars.

Is he weak?

No! I'm not weak; I'm just as strong as the next man!

But he can't face his past.

Th- That's-

Would a hero do that?

No.

Isn't he a hero?

I'm not a hero. I can't remember if I ever was one.

And he lies on his back, facing the ceiling.

And remembers.

/

It's been nearly fifty years since the United States of America was dissolved. In some cruel twist of fate, or the plan of some sadistic or ironic person, it was dissolved on July 4. Independence Day. The man smiled a twisted smile, that had been a real blow.

The economy had been failing and people were arguing and there was never a moment of peace and the hating- the HATING!

Everyone hated him.

The personifications hated him and would insult him to his back and face and do everything to make his life miserable, and- and... HATED him.

Then there were the humans from other countries. They hated him and his people wished that they would all drop dead or die terrible deaths or at least just disappear from the world and hated, hated, hated!

Then there were his own people. His own beloved people, his children. The very ones that he worked so hard for to be independent and proud and happy and free! They hated him too. They hated his country, their country.

When asked where they come from they would always say their ethnicity first. Chinese, British, German, Italian, French, Japanese, Spanish, Irish, Indian- The list went on and on and on and they will rarely say American first, or sometimes not even at all. Because they were ashamed. Ashamed of all the hard work that he did to keep them free and happy and-

That's enough there.

With the economy failing there was political unrest, of course, and it almost looked like the Civil War all over again. States wanting to secede and others wanting to 'keep them in the Union', which had become a cover up for trying to take over other land.

It was sickening.

Not to mention all the assassinations and 'tragic accidents.' Like the one where the president was killed on live television while trying to calm the people. Or when an encouraging show was played live at a school and it was set fire and those inside burned to death. Or- The list could go on and on and on.

Long story short, his nation had been a disgrace and a mess and a war zone.

And he had to be happy an cheerful and oblivious through out his entire fall. All because of one promise he made to his only truly lov-

The man buried his face in a pillow. He promised himself never to think of them again. Even if the alternative was thinking about his death.

He had tried to get other countries to help him. After all, England would have, wouldn't he? With that special relation and all between the two of them. No, England had sat back and shook his head and -as he laughed- told him that he had it coming to him.

Well then, there was always Japan, right? Japan and he had been close, and Kiku and Al- Alf- his past selfhad been even closer. Japan hadn't even seemed to remember their old friendship as he avoided him in the buildings and ignored the increasingly frantic texts and phone calls and answered every question when confronted with a single curt word.

So that left Canada, his brother by blood and land. Covered in the blood of his citizens and tears of his own he had asked, no, begged Canada- no- Matthew to help him.

He had gotten a cold smile and unreadable eyes.

"I'll help you, America. But in my way."

And indeed he did. Less than a fortnight later Canadian troops invaded what was left of America. It was quick and efficient and his people would willingly surrender to them and even fight those who tried to save America.

It hurt and hurt and hurt.

But the scariest part was when he realized that he was feeling less and less and less.

As America, the country, broke apart.

-The blood would flow down him and as he looked at his hands he couldn't remember if there were five digits or was it four or maybe three. And his long since shattered glasses only serving to mangle his hands even more but he wouldn't stop holding them because-

In a matter of months Canada, his beloved brother, had taken over all of the United States. The man grimaced. Well, almost all of it. Mexico had taken Texas. And who could have seen that coming?

So he felt less and less as more and more people stopped calling themselves American and named themselves after his brother.

A little over a year after Canada first invaded the talk of dissolving the United States of America started.

That wasn't right.

A little over a week after Canada first invaded, the talk of dissolving the United States of America started.

It was a little over a year when they actually dissolved America.

That was too easy to remember.

Today is 9/11. A time of remembrance in the country of the USA. I watched a video of this in history class and I was not only heart broken over the amount of lives lost in that attack but angry that people will do such a thing. However, I'm ashamed to feeling amused when I heard that the attack was to dampen our spirits. It just made them stronger, albeit in a horrid way.

I am not happy with this chapter as it is a filler. I will post chapter five on Thursday and chapter 6 sometime over the weekend. Also, many thanks to all my reviewers, especially Devin Trinidad and Gibbelbeans3.

Please review as it warms my heart. By the way, would anyone be interested in a fic with a multi-personalitied Alferd? No promises though.