Ah, jeez. Agatha Christie left an impression on me...

Warning: Angst, use of weapons.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I like manipulating their characters, though

Then There Was One

"Jesus, finally!" Alfred burst through the doors of the airport, suddenly regretting his outburst and darting behind a large potted plant. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the lobby, Alfred deemed it safe enough to emerge.

He peered around at the large airport. Papers were strewn everywhere, luggage abandoned, silence prevailing. Alfred didn't quite know what to do. Hadn't Virginia said she had arranged a flight for him? Then who the hell was her contact?

I wish I could have asked her for more information… Alfred thought ruefully as he walked toward the gates of Terminal 3. If there was anywhere someone would be hiding, it would be at the farthest most terminal. He stopped in front of the gates, looking around and gathering the courage to yell, "Hello?"

He waited. Nothing.

"Hello!" he yelled louder.

There was movement behind him and the cocking of a gun. Alfred froze where he stood, heart pounding in his chest. "Hands up,"

Alfred did so, trembling.

"Turn around,"

The man was small and dressed is a pilot's uniform and cap, a pistol in his hands. "Who are you?"

"Alfred F. Jones," he replied, his voice shaking a little. "My friend, Virginia, called here…" God, I hope I'm telling the right person. Alfred thought nervously.

The pilot blinked and was still for moment, then lowered his gun. "Well, it's about damn time, son."

Alfred smiled in relief. "Damn, I thought I was dead."

"You would have been if you'd aimed that at me." The pilot motioned to Alfred's handgun at his side.

Alfred laughed weakly. "Yeah, well, good thing I didn't. Heheheh…"

"It's 8:58," The pilot looked at his watch. "Looks like you arrived just in time."

"How lucky," Alfred said, clearing his throat. "So, do we leave now?"

"Let me check the plane over first to make sure it's good to go."

"Okay, tell me when you're ready. I'll go grab some food in the terminal."

The pilot gave him a nod and entered the gate that led to the plane.

Alfred sighed and planted himself in one of the many seats lined up in front of the gates. He was too exhausted at the moment to do much of anything. Although he was hungry as hell, he needed to rest for a few minutes before being able to put forth the effort to eat—which was saying a lot, since he usually ate all the time.

There was a low roar outside, and Alfred whipped his head to one of windows lining the wall and saw a helicopter landing on the tarmac. A few moments later, the pilot came racing back in, waving his arms. "They've found us! They've found us!"

Alfred bolted up from his chair so fast that he became a bit dizzy. "Who?"

"I don't know," the pilot admitted. "But whoever they are, they're not from here. I didn't recognize the copter."

"Dammit!" Alfred fumbled to remove his gun from its holster as he ran with the pilot to the opposite end of the terminal to hide and lie in wait for the new arrival. "Why have they come here? It's abandoned!"

"I have no idea." the pilot answered breathlessly. "Food, fuel… it could be anything."

"Yeah," Alfred growled. "Like killing me."

"What?"

"Nothin'."

They were almost halfway to the doors, when footsteps coming from one of the gates sounded behind them. Alfred willed his feet to move faster, his finger to remain locked and ready on the trigger of his gun.

Then, "Alfred?"

Alfred stopped, causing the pilot to skid to a halt in front of him. "What the hell are you doing, boy?"

"No… impossible…" Alfred was so stunned it took him a few seconds to turn around.

"Alfred?" came the same voice. "Alfred, is that you?"

Alfred blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "I-Iggy?"

"Alfred!" It was Arthur. The older blonde was staring at him in awe."Alfred!"

"Arthur!"

Arthur threw down his bags and ran to Alfred. He was met halfway, and Arthur immediately wrapped his arms around the younger man's neck. "Alfred, thank God."

"Iggy…" Alfred muttered, hugging him back and feeling his throat grow scratchy. This reminded him of when Arthur used to hug him as a child, when he was crying and confused… he had been robbed of that comfort for a long time, and now it was intensified by the fact that Arthur was here and alive. "I thought you were dead."

"Well," Arthur chuckled. "I'm not."

"Who the hell is he?"

The pilot was standing behind them, a puzzled and fearful look on his face.

Alfred and Arthur parted. Alfred laughed in embarrassment as he explained, "No worries, man. This is my friend from England."

Arthur extended his hand. "Arthur Kirkland. Sorry for the fright."

"No problem, no problem." The pilot had an amusing look of immense relief on his face. He took Arthur's hand and gave it a firm shake. "You see, I've been trying to keep this place on the down low for a while now."

"Ah," Arthur took a moment to peer around before continuing, "It seems you've succeeded."

"Well, yes." the pilot said sheepishly.

"Hey, uh…"

"Captain Roberts,"

"So, Captain Roberts," Alfred began slowly. "Since Arthur's here, can you forestall the flight? We both need some rest."

"Okay," Roberts looked a bit crestfallen, but he gave them a cheery smile. "I'll be in the radio room. Believe it or not, I still have some contacts with others."

Alfred's heart pounded. "Have you heard from Virginia recently?"

The Captain shook his head. "Sorry, no. Not since she arranged your flight. I'm afraid I haven't been able to contact her."

"Oh," Alfred felt guilt gnaw at his already empty belly. I should have gone to help her. But then I wouldn't have met Iggy… dammit! Why does the world have to be such an asshole sometimes?

The pilot waved as he departed, leaving Alfred and Arthur alone in the middle of the terminal.

Alfred stumbled as Arthur leaned heavily against him. "Uh… Artie, are you okay?"
"I'm just a tad tired." Arthur mumbled. "I feel like I haven't slept in months."

"You probably haven't," Alfred said. "If you've been through anything like I have." He guided Arthur over to the row of seats lined up in front of Gate 3. Arthur sunk down into one of the chairs, head propped up by his hand. Alfred situated himself beside him and asked hesitantly, "What have you gone through, Iggy?"

"Please, Alfred," Arthur groaned quietly. "Not now. I just… need to rest right now."

Alfred's heart gave a worried flutter as he examined Arthur's face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were hollow. His hair was mussed and hid skin covered in a layer of dirt and sweat. His suit was splattered with a reddish stain that Alfred suspiciously thought was blood. But there was something about his expression that concerned Alfred the most. It was something he had seen on Arthur only once before, something that he couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it sadness? Regret? Grief? He couldn't tell. Hell, at this point, it could be all three.

Alfred remained quiet, stroking the torn fabric of Arthur's sleeve until he himself had dozed off into much-needed slumber.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Wow, this was short, huh? I'm sorta trying to write short chapters so that they don't seem all daunting and shit. Honestly, it's not just to annoy the hell out of people when they're having to scroll down and click the 'Next' button after about five minutes of reading... nope, totally not that. XD