AN: Please review!
England sat next to the bed, cupping America's hand in his. "Please be alright." He placed his forehead against the bed, breathing heavily, trying not to cry. "Please."
"Eng-England?"
Arthur quickly raised his head, to see America slowly rolling his head on his pillow.
"Alfred!" Quickly wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he jumped to his feet. "You're alive." A wave of joy swept over him.
America squinted momentarily as his eyelids flickered, turning his gaze to the other nation. He looked confused and lost, almost like the little child Arthur had grown to know and love.
"You're in the hospital, America," England explained as he sat back down. "You were in surgery for nine hours. But now you're going to be alright, okay?"
America tried to open his mouth, but stopped as he turned to look at the ceiling. He shook slightly as he could feel the pain of the injuries covering his body. "Arthur," he muttered, his eyes glistening with tears.
"It's okay, Alfred," England said he reached forward, once again grabbing the nation's hand. "I'm here for you."
America suddenly coughed as he looked back at the other nation, "Why-Why did you shoot my plane down?"
Arthur dropped the nation's hand, staring at him dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?" he asked. Then the nation paused, thinking it was probably from all the drugs they had pumped into America. Sighing, he replied. "I didn't, Alfred. You crashed your plane here."
America squinted again as he turned his lost gaze back up to the ceiling. "Oh." He paused. "But then…where did that missile come from?" The American then slowly let his eyes close again as he faded into the blackness of sleep.