More nations are arriving~!

Warning: Angst, weapons, a suicide.

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

Then There Were Two

Arthur was jolted awake by an echoing bellow, flinching and giving a startled shout before the sound dissipated and he relaxed some.

"Alfred," he turned to the snoring man, who, amazingly, hadn't even woken. "Alfred… dammit, Alfred, wake up!" Arthur flicked the younger man's ear.

Alfred jolted awake, mumbling incoherently, "… ance, get your hand out of my pants… ow!" He held his ear and winced. "Hey! What was that for? Ya know, I was tryin' to sleep, and I'm damn tired!"

"Shut it, git." Arthur snapped, peering around the terminal before asking, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Arthur looked incredulously at him. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Trust me, Igs, I'm not in the joking mood. Now what in the hell are you talking about?"

"That…" Arthur searched for the right word, but couldn't find one. "… sound?"

Alfred gave him a concerned look. "Did you knock your head on the way over here?"

"Insufferable smartarse," Arthur growled. "You were snoring too loud to hear it yourself."

Alfred laughed a bit at that. "Pfft, I don't snore."

Arthur gave him a skeptical look. "Don't give me that shit when I raised you." Alfred was about to retort, but Arthur quickly went on, "It sounded loud. Quite loud, actually. Too close to be from the outside and too soft to be something keeling over."

Alfred's face went serious. "Damn… you don't think they found us?"

"Who?"

"The rebels," Alfred replied worriedly. "A couple of them found me and chased me for while until I finally escaped. They're looking for me or anyone who has supposedly 'deceived' them. They call all government-affiliated people 'Deceivers' by the way…"

"What does this have to do with me?"

Alfred paled a bit. "That's right… crap, now that you're here, if they find us… they'll kill us or worse."

"Worse?"

"My friend, his name was Sam," Alfred's voice cracked a bit. "He was captured and tortured because of suspicions by the rebels that he knew my whereabouts. He told them where I was, then was… raped and shot dead."

Arthur felt all the blood drain from his face. "That's… that's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Alfred said. "He was a good friend. I just wish I could have been there for him."

Alfred was looking sad, so Arthur thought it best to redirect the conversation. He glanced at his watch. "Shit, we've been asleep for thirty-five minutes."

"So what? I say we should have slept longer."

"No, you git!" Arthur said. "Because of our inattentiveness, we have no idea what that sound was."

"Wanna find out?" Alfred waggled his eyebrows.

Arthur stood, rolling his eyes. "We'd better."

"Right," Alfred followed. "Where did it come from?"

Arthur surveyed the terminal. "There, I believe." He pointed toward the radio room.

"But," Alfred began slowly. "That's where Roberts went…"

"I know," Arthur's hands were trembling now.

"Here," Alfred slipped a pocketknife out of his bag. "Take this. We're gonna look for him."

Arthur scoffed. "That's hardly necessary." He rummaged in his coat pocket before revealing a loaded pistol. Alfred's surprised look made him laugh. "Do you honestly think that I would go around defenseless in this hellhole?"

Alfred shrugged and led the way across the terminal and to the radio room.

Alfred entered first, of course, and Arthur rolled his eyes when the younger man proceeded to crouch and move about in a ridiculous display of covert maneuvers. "Get up, git."

"Shh!" Alfred hissed, and Arthur scoffed. "Turn on the lights."

Arthur did so and they both gasped at the sight.

Blood was dripping across the counter and onto the floor, all over the equipment. Roberts was seated in the swivel chair, slumped across the counter, blood still dripping from his jaw. A pistol was held limply in his hand. Alfred stepped forward to examine him closer. He turned to Arthur and confirmed, "Shot up through the chin."

"A suicide?" Arthur was in disbelief. "But why would he want to…?"

Just then, static erupted on the radio and he hurried over to it, trying to decipher what was being said through the noise.

"… to Baron, Rusty to Baron, when will you give the all clear?"

"10 tomorrow morning… guns and grenades ready… all out assault on Terminal 3… finally smoke that bastard out…"

"Fuck!" Alfred cursed, snatching up Arthur's arm and pulling him toward the seats.

"Alfred, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur squirmed. "Let me go!"

"They're coming!" Alfred said frantically. "They're going to storm this Terminal and we don't have a pilot!"

"What do you suppose we do?" Arthur growled. "Go outside where they're probably keeping watch?"

"No!" Alfred dug his hands into his hair in frustration and sat promptly in a chair. "I-I don't know… there's no way out."

Arthur sat down beside him, swallowing his cowardice and saying, "Well, this won't do. Do you honestly think getting frantic over this will solve it?"

"No…"

"Then perk up, lad." Arthur snapped. "We'll have to defend this terminal, then. And we won't give up until they've shot us dead."

Alfred winced. "Don't you think that's… a pretty violent way to go?"

"America!"

"All right, all right," Alfred waved a dismissive hand. "I'm with ya. But you have to promise you won't nag me for the rest of the time we're alive."

Arthur snorted. "I do not nag!"

"Remember, Artie, you raised me."

"Shut it," Arthur snapped and was about to make a snide remark, when a sound reached his ears. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"Deaf sod! Listen."

"I'm just kidding, jeez!" Alfred scoffed. "Can't take a joke…" He was silent for a moment before his heart started pounding. "That's… a plane engine."

"They must be flying in!" Arthur concluded. He cocked his gun. "We'll surprise them. Get on that side of the gate."

They both stood opposite each other beside the arc that marked the entrance to the plane. They held their breath as the plane approached Gate 4, stopping, the door sliding open, then closing. Footsteps could be heard… along with the cocking of a gun.

"Get ready," Arthur mouthed. "Three… two… one… now!"

Arthur shouted the last word and both men lunged forward until they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, guns aimed and ready at the intruder.

The man gave a startled cry and pointed his gun at them in turn. They stared at each other for a long while before Arthur lowered his pistol and muttered, half in shock, half in disgust, "Frog?"

No translations

A Word From the Writer: You know England had to live. He was a goddamn empire, there's no way he's going down that easily! But... now they have no pilot. England, did you bring bad luck with you? :D