Alfred was in the neighbourhood.

For the conference meeting. It was being hosted in London, England, conveniently in the city where Arthur lived. However, the actual meeting was held in a very-fancy but equally-cheap conference room booked by England. Unlike some of the other countries who hosted the less important meetings at their houses, England was very particular about who was allowed into his house (the idea of letting France into his house reinforced his decision). Alfred secretly hoped that he and England could have tea like they sometimes did after meetings (he enjoyed tea with England, even though Alfred was not very fond of the beverage himself), even if "tea time" usually ended in and argument of some sort.

Alfred heard the ambulance before he saw it. He had been walking back to his hotel room from the store closest to the hotel he was staying in. He had been disappointed that most of the food at the convenience store was "the British crap". He couldn't understand how anyone could eat British food. But he eventually found what he was looking for. Coffee.

On a normal day Alfred would be sleeping right now. It was near midnight, after all. But Alfred knew that he would want his caffeinated beverage tomorrow morning, mostly to help him wake up. But his hotel suit didn't have any coffee in it, and he hadn't brought any with him. If he didn't get his coffee he would wind up being a miserable sack of potatoes. So, close to falling asleep, he forced himself out of bed to trudge down to the store to get some coffee. With his treasure in hand, he walked out of the convenience store and began to walk peacefully home, a large goofy grin plastered onto his face.

That is, until the ambulance whizzed by him-effectively disrupting the peacefulness of the walk- its lights and sirens on full blast. It was especially hard not to notice it considering how quiet the street was. The wind that was currently gathering behind the ambulance blew America's hair around to the front of his face and nearly caused his glasses to fly off. They stopped short of flying off and remained crooked on the end of his nose.

America stopped in his tracks and hugged the coffee tin closer to his chest, the rush of wind chilling him suddenly. He stood and gawked at the sheer speed that the vehicle was able to achieve and was travelling at. It had only been a few seconds ago that it had passed him, but it was already nothing but a white speck in the distance.

I wonder what happened… Alfred found himself thinking, Is that ambulance going to where somebody is hurt, or is it returning with someone who is fatally injured?

America had figured out that the ambulance likely had somebody inside in need of immediate medical assistance. He also concluded that they were badly hurt by how fast the ambulance was going. He just didn't know that that person was England.

Fixing his glasses, Alfred slowly resumed his walk back to the hotel.

Alfred unlocked the door to his hotel and stepped inside. He kicked off his shoes, leaving them to lie haphazardly on the ground in front of the doorway. Practically throwing the coffee tin onto the table, he collapsed onto the messy white comforter on the bed, sighing as he sank into it.

The ambulance was still in his mind, although he didn't know why he was so impacted by it. As a country he had been through countless wars before, some more impactful than others, he had been the unfortunate victim of seeing friends of his fall around him while he still stood. But this one ambulance was able to stop him in his tracks and consider the possibilities of what could be happening, instead of continuing on his way back to the hotel without interruption. Why?

You don't have enough time to worry about every stranger who's hurt, Alfred thought to himself. He hoped that he didn't sound too cold, even if he was just talking to himself. It was true, though. If he kept worrying about people he didn't even know, he might just stop worrying about himself. Go to bed.

But even when he relaxed and settled down into bed, he found that he could not fall asleep. He was uncomfortable. He had managed to tangle himself in his blanket while attempting to find a more relaxing position. Alfred blamed it on the time zone change. Or maybe it was that the cold air from his trip to the store had woken him up. Or maybe it was the fact that, despite his mind's protests, the ambulance was still bouncing around in his brain. Eventually he had even tried to will himself to sleep by downing a glass of warm milk, remembering how England would make it for him as a kid when he was scared or had a nightmare.

He missed that.

PleasegotobedgotobedgotobedIwannasleepgotobedgotob e-

Eventually, America decided that he should just get up. He wasn't going to fall asleep anyways, and he wasn't doing anything productive lying in bed. If they had been with him, he probably would have played his Xbox or PS3. But his game consoles were still at home, so he pulled himself out of bed and put on the coffee maker- very glad that he had gotten coffee from the store - and slipped in the coffee pot underneath the spout.

While he was waiting for the coffee to finish, he looked through the cupboards in search of a mug, idly fiddling with his hair and impatiently drumming his fingers on the countertop. Why can't I find a mug? He thought irritably. By the time a mug was located, the coffee was ready.

Alfred poured himself a hefty cup of coffee and sat down at the counter.

Arthur awoke still inside the ambulance. A burning pain throbbed insistently in his shoulder. His wrist also throbbed painfully, as did his head. Arthur could feel something warm on his forehead. He pondered what it was for a moment, before realizing that it was his own blood.

"Ugh…" he sighed as he opened his eyes slightly. He could now see and feel that there was an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He tried to cradle his throbbing head, but found out quickly that he felt too weak to manage the action.

"Try not to move." A paramedic who was sitting nearby whispered, supposedly not to startle him. The paramedic was currently checking all the instruments to make sure they were functioning properly. The inconsistent beeping of a heart monitor rang in Arthur's ears.

From his current position, Arthur could see out of the rectangular back double door windows. Looking out into the darkness of the night, he could faintly make out a familiar profile standing under the street lamp. The figure was wearing a very familiar bomber jacket, a certain blond strand of hair standing up on his head.

"Alfred… "Arthur whispered as he looked longingly at the figure getting smaller as they sped down the street. Arthur suddenly felt very tired; as if when he closed his eyes he would fall asleep immediately.

"What was that?" the paramedic said as he leaned in closer so he could hear.

"Alfred…Jones…" Arthur managed before his eyes closed and the void of unconsciousness embraced him once again.

Alfred had barely started to drink his coffee when his phone rang.

B-bring B-bring

The noise startled Alfred out of his day dreaming. Dude, who could be calling me right now? It's like, one-o'clock in the morning! Alfred thought as he got up from the counter.

Bring Bring

"I'm coming I'm coming…" He muttered under his breath as he headed over to his bed, where the source of the ringing was coming from. After a quick search through the still tangled comforter, he found his mobile phone in his bed.

"Yo?" Alfred said as he picked it up, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Is this Alfred Jones?" a very professional-and slightly irritated- female voice questioned.

"Um, yeah."

"Do you know a man by the name of 'Arthur Kirkland?'" Her questioning voice almost sounded grimmer, like bad news was to follow suit.

"Y-yeah…" Who was this lady and why was she asking about England?

"I'm afraid I have some bad news to deliver…" Her next words forced Alfred to sit down on the couch. He was afraid that he might fall over if he didn't, because his legs were starting to feel like jelly. Artie? Shot?

"…"

Thiscan'tbehappeningwhyisthishappeningthiscan'tbeh ap-

"Sir? Are you alright?" she asked, concern showing in her voice at the extended silence that she received after delivering the bad news.

Ye-yeah, I-I'm fine." But Alfred's voice cracked near the end of his sentence and he let free a sob that he was trying to contain throughout the conversation.

"He's in emergency surgery right now. The bullet didn't pass clean through. Luckily the bullet didn't hit any major arteries. You will be allowed to see him as soon as he is done and stabilized."

"O-okay. Thanks for calling me." And then he hung up. He placed his phone on the table, his trembling hands threatening to drop it, as hot tears rolled down his quickly pushed himself into the corner of the couch. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he buried his face in his forearms and sobbed quietly.

Why Arthur? He questioned the world Why does it have to be him? My mentor, my 'friend', the person who looked after me as a kid, th-

You're acting very un-hero like. He told himself.

Heroes can cry too, y'know.

Get off the coach, Alfred. Ya gotta be strong.

Why? It's not like I can do anything t' help him. I'm not a doctor.

Yes. There is something you can do. You can protect him, Alfred. You gotta be strong for him.

Alfred's self motivation attempts finally got through to him and he slowly pulled his head out from his forearms and rested it on the back of the couch. He looked up at the ceiling as he wiped away the last of the tears leaking from his eyes. He thought about it. What if Arthur couldn't be strong for himself? He couldn't stand to think about of Arthur being completely helpless and stuck on a hospital bed. What if France came along while he was vulnerable and…

No. He had to be Iggy's hero.

Alfred slipped on his signature bomber jacket and grabbing his hotel room keys, he stumbled over his shoes, which were still laying in the doorway, as he walked out the door. He picked himself up off the floor and, still in his pyjamas, walked briskly, effectively forgetting to put on his shoes.

His coffee was stone cold.