Dr. Drama Llama rates this chapter an 11 out of 10.

Warning: A gruesome wound, fight involving weapons, and a death.

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

The Last of the Loyals

"There's a drug store just ahead."

"Good, because I was getting tired of keeping track of where we went." Sadiq said.

Arthur and Sadiq approached the store. The glass was punched in and the automatic doors were crumpled in their frames.

"Let's go in." Arthur said, raising his pistol. "Cover me."

Sadiq snorted, unsheathing his kilij. "You sound like Alfred."

"I am in no way like that blundering git!"

"Okay, okay! Calm down, old man. We wouldn't want your heart rate to skyrocket."

Arthur continued to talk as he stepped through the frame of the doors, his voice significantly lower. "Pfft, you're older than me, idiot."

"Evet," Sadiq said, stepping backward into the door. "But I haven't been sitting around knitting and drinking tea for the past couple of centuries."

"I don't knit, you sod." Arthur hissed. "It's called embroidering."

Sadiq scoffed. "What's the fucking difference?"

Arthur couldn't come up with a retort for that, so he changed the subject. "We'd better start looking. Grab anything you think we might need."

Sadiq smirked, knowing that Arthur couldn't answer his question, but said, "All right. Let's split up."

"Right," Arthur felt uneasy about splitting up again, but if it meant finding more than they would if they were together, then so be it.

He headed for an aisle and stocked up on Tylenol, some pain reliever, fever reducers, nausea medicine, antibiotics, and a few boxes of Band-Aids. He also stuffed several rolls of gauze for wounds into his bag. This should get Gilbert to finally shut up. Arthur thought.

"Hey, Sadiq!" Arthur called, walking out of his aisle and zipping up his bag. "What did you get?"

"Eh," Sadiq was rummaging in his backpack. "Some aloe, splints, allergy medication, some hydrogen peroxide, anti-itch cream, a pill cutter, eyedrops, a few syringes for antibiotics, cough drops and… gum."

"Gum?"

"Hey! It's a creature comfort."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "Oi…" It figures I have to come here with this dimwit.

"What's wrong?"

"You,"

"Hey!"

"Don't start an argument, please."

"You just did!"

"Let's go look in that back room." Arthur pointed to a door at the very back of the store. "There may be some stuff in there no one's gotten to yet."

Sadiq was still fuming but sighed. "All right."

Arthur led the way to the door, pistol out. Once he was in front of it, he pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. Good. He reached down and slowly turned the knob…

He growled. "Damn. It's locked, and I don't hear anything." Arthur turned to Sadiq. "Don't you have anything sharp? Bobby pin? Knife, perhaps?"

Sadiq backed away, arms folded, shaking his head. "Nope,"

"What do you mean 'nope'? You must have something!"

"That door's locked."

"… Thank you for pointing out the obvious…?"

Sadiq growled. "I'm not opening it."

"Why? It's just a door!"

"Doors are locked for a reason."

"What? I didn't hear anything from the other side, you deaf pillock. Did you not hear me say it?"

"I did. But the people behind that door could have heard us as well. We weren't exactly being quiet ourselves."

"Then wouldn't they have already tried to escape when they heard us come in? Wouldn't they be too scared to confront us?"

"Or maybe it's a trap."

"What! You're pulling my plonker!"

"Huh? … Well, anyway, you see it in all the scary movies. The stupid teens decide to open the door that has been 'locked for a hundred years' or something."

"Now you sound like Alfred!"

"I've got a point, don't I?"

"What, that you're acting like a coward?"

"I am not a coward, İngiliz salak!"

"Then give me something to open the damn door with!"

"Don't shout!"

"Then you don't shout!" Sadiq was about to say something else, but before he could do so, Arthur dug in his backpack until he found his reading glasses and stuck the arm determinedly into the keyhole. Behind him, Sadiq stiffened.

"You dumbass!" His hands flew to his head.

"Relax, damn!" Arthur snapped, moving the arm around in the keyhole. "And shut up, I'm trying to find the—" There was a click and Arthur pulled away, shoving his glasses back in their case. "There we are."

"D-don't do it!"

"Oh stop being a—what does Alfred call it—a pussy."

"I am not being a pussy!"

"Well you're doing a very good impression of one, then." (Ohoho, England's seen a lot of pussy in his day…?)

Arthur turned the knob and pushed open the door, Sadiq unsheathing his kilij.

"See?" Arthur gave a smug smile. "Nothing. Now stop acting like a baby."

"I-I wasn't."

"Sure," Arthur stepped into the little room and examined it.

It was a bit bigger than a closet, but it was big enough to hold some much-needed supplies. Everything was in here: jugs of water, food, medicine, blankets, and—

"Tents!" Arthur said in disbelief, scooping them up. "Tents, wow… how lucky can we get? Surely all of them have been cleaned out of other stores?"

"This is convenient." Sadiq said, walking around, his brow furrowed. "Too convenient."

Arthur sighed, "Oh don't start that shit again."

"No, I mean, really." Sadiq said. "Did someone live here? There are too many tents here for such a small space and… why would they even need tents?"

"Have you stopped to consider that maybe this was a storage room?" Arthur asked, gathering as much as he could into his bag. "Perhaps someone stockpiled stuff and forgot to come back and get it? Or… something." Arthur couldn't bring himself to inquire the other possibility.

"Perhaps," Sadiq agreed half-heartedly. "Look, Arthur, I have a bad feeling about this place."

"So what?" Arthur snapped, now zipping up his bag. "You did before and nothing happened. You're free to leave. Don't let me stop you."

"No!" Sadiq hissed, a bit more anxious now. He was pacing. "I can't leave you here! If something happened, Alfred would kill me!"

"And what makes you think I couldn't make it out on my own?"

"Well, you're—" Sadiq stepped and there was a sudden click and his foot dropped further into the floor. He looked down. "What the hell?"

There was silence as Arthur and Sadiq stared dumbly at each other. Then the sound of metal creaking and the piercing of flesh clawed at their ears. Sadiq gave a scream and his legs buckled and he fell to his knees, unable to descend further for the fact that something like a bear trap was imbedded in his ankle.

Arthur immediately shot to his feet, unable to take his eyes off the gruesome sight. "Fucking God, Sadiq!"

Sadiq was doubled over in pain, huffing, and gave Arthur the dirtiest look he could muster. "I told you this place was dangerous!"

"Oh God, Sadiq!" Arthur was trying not to totally freak out. "Oh my God." He took a couple of deep breaths before covering his ears as a loud siren went off.

"Don't just stand there and say that over and over again!" Sadiq snapped. "Get me the fuck out of this thing!"

Arthur uncovered his ears and his head pounded with the high-pitched shrieking sound. He hurried over to Sadiq, dropping his backpack as he did so, his hands shooting down to wrench the trap off of him. "Did you not see this?" he yelled over the siren.

"It was beneath the floorboards!" Sadiq snapped. "How I was I supposed to avoid it?"

"Where do you think that siren is coming from?"

"I don't fucking know! Now stop asking questions and work!"

Arthur did as he was told, telling himself firmly that now was not the time to be snarky. He focused on the trap—but that was hard to do what with all the blood and bits of flesh hanging off the leg where the metal teeth had bit in. His hands worked at the trap while at the same time he was trying not to vomit.

"Hurry up!" Sadiq yelled, and with one last pull, the trap sprung open and Sadiq pulled his foot carefully out.

"Can you stand?" Arthur shouted.

"Yeah," Sadiq said, putting pressure on his ankle. "Y-yeah, I—" He grunted as his ankle gave out and he went down on one knee.

Panic rising within him, Arthur hefted his backpack onto one shoulder and grabbed Sadiq, putting his arm over his other shoulder. "Hold onto me and tell me where to go."

"That damn siren," Sadiq shouted, wincing as his ankle was dragged over the floorboards. "it will attract everyone around!"

"We'll make it." Arthur assured him and was stepping out of the front doors.

And sure enough, as soon as they were around the corner, the sound of pounding feet hit them. Arthur dared a glance over his shoulder and gasped, seeing a crowd of rebels charging toward them from around a building. They instantly began shooting.

"Don't run straight!" Sadiq said. "Get behind a building, go down alleys!"

"You don't have to tell me!" Arthur replied and quickly darted behind a gas station, the assault on his ears from the siren continuing fiercely.

And they kept running.

They soon reached an intersection and Arthur stopped. "Where are we? Do you remember?"

Sadiq huffed. "I don't know! We didn't come this way!"

Arthur gave a frustrated growl as the mob showed up a couple blocks behind them and they both continued around another corner. But just as soon as they'd come out of a cluster of buildings, they'd found that they had almost run into the mob. They were a few yards away and shooting. Arthur got out his pistol and shot back over his shoulder, smirking when he heard a man scream and a dull thud.

He still had it.

"Shit!" Sadiq growled, looking over his shoulder. "They're gaining. We're going to be hit!"

"Don't look. I'll take care of it."

"Oh, what, are you going to magically sprout wings?"

"Well, I could in fact, but I'd need my spellbook for that and it's in my bag so—"

"Or," came a familiar, obnoxious voice. Arthur and Sadiq looked ahead and saw Alfred standing in the road along with Ivan, Matthew, Francis, and Ruby. The dog barked when she saw them, her tail wagging. "we could save you." Alfred finished.

Arthur was so shocked, he nearly stopped. "You bloody gits! Why didn't you come get us sooner?"

"You know nothing, bro." Alfed said rushing up and draping Sadiq's other arm over his shoulders. "Heroes are always fashionably late. You know, builds suspense."

Arthur felt like smacking Alfred, but all he could do at the moment was smile in relief. It certainly was annoying.

"What happened to his leg?" Matthew gasped.

"I'll explain later." Arthur said, handing Sadiq over to Matthew and Francis. "Hide him somewhere. He can barely walk."

Francis nodded and locked eyes with Arthur. The Frenchman's eyes were wet. Arthur speculated he must have been the one who convinced Alfred and the others (well, more like just the others) to come and rescue them.

Ivan cocked his gun. "They are closing in. Get behind me if you do not have a weapon."

"Pfft," Alfred scoffed taking out his handgun and cocking it also. "You know I have one."

"Da," Ivan said, smirking. "Da, I do."

Arthur looked curiously at Alfred when he saw him blush a dull red and fumble with his gun. But his curiosity was quickly whisked away when Alfred and Ivan began shooting at the oncoming crowd. Ruby was growling and barking ferociously, her hackles raised. Arthur aimed his gun and was about to shoot when a bullet whizzed by him, so close that it cut through the hair by his right ear. It took a moment to figure out from which direction it came, and he finally turned around to see Matthew crouched behind a window of a store, shooting down the approaching mob with his rifle.

"Aim a little farther to the right, will you?"

Matthew nodded and adjusted his aim.

Meanwhile, Ivan and Alfred were shooting down all the people they could hit, bullets whizzing past. Bullet shells were tinkling to the ground. Arthur took aim and fired in rapid succession, leaving the rebels scrambling over bodies that were dropping to the ground. Arthur saw a couple rebels dart into a building, but he thought nothing of it.

"Dammit," Alfred swore. "They're getting closer and I'm running out of ammo."

"Da, me too, comrade." Ivan said, shooting down a line of men. "We must make our escape now before we are trapped."

"Right," Alfred said, lowering his gun. "And what did I say about calling me 'comrade'?"

Ivan smirked and inserted a cartridge into his AK-47. "You would not be saying that now, da, comrade?" He cocked his gun threateningly.

Alfred took one look at his gun, then turned, shuddering, and began making his way toward Arthur, who was still shooting.

"Hey, Art."

"What is it, git? I'm busy!" He expertly shot one man right between the eyes.

"We gotta get go—" Alfred stopped mid-sentence as something caught his eye in the upper window of a building—the glint of the sun reflecting off of a rifle positioned on the frame of a second-story window a block away from them. The man behind it took aim… right at Arthur.

But Arthur, Alfred was horrified to see, did not even notice he was standing in the middle of a death trap. He was going to push him out of the way, but the man had already shot, and it was too late to try and move him, the bullet whistling through the air toward them.

So Alfred did the only thing he could think of. He darted in front of Arthur and threw out his arms.

"What the bloody hell are you—?" Arthur began, but that was when he saw it. He barely had time to say, "You fucking idiot—!" and wrap his arms around Alfred's front, and pull him to ground, before the bullet arrived. Arthur fell, the breath being knocked from his lungs as the dead weight of Alfred hit him full on in the chest. He heard the bullet lodge in something solid and blood splattered onto his shirt—the same shirt on which Lennox's blood had spilt.

Arthur's heart was hammering violently against his ribs as he struggled to wriggle out from beneath Alfred. The damn American always ate too much. And he cursed the fact, as the seconds ticked by—the seconds that could determine whether Alfred lived or died.

Arthur was almost hysterical as he sat so that Alfred's head lay in his lap. Meanwhile, the mob (which was reduced to about ten people) had retreated. Matthew had raced out of the building, calling out to his brother, but to Arthur he sounded very far away.

He slapped Alfred's face. "Alfred? Alfred, you sod! Wake up!" I can't let him die like Lennox. "Dammit, I'll kill you if you don't fucking wake up!"

Alfred cracked open his eyes and blinked. "A-Artie?"

Arthur's heart leapt into his throat. "I'm here, Alfred."

Alfred licked his chapped lips and said, "Arthur…?"

Tears tugged at Arthur's eyes. "Yes, Alfred?"

"I…" Alfred wheezed. "I… I'm hungry."

"Oh, Alfred I—what?" Arthur looked quizzically down at him. "But… don't you feel faint at all?"

Alfred sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "Hell no, but, ow…" He gripped his shoulder. "My arm hurts like hell."

Arthur pried his hands away and examined the wound. His eyes then moved to where a bullet was imbedded in the ground inches away from them, still smoking. There was a few moment's silence and then… SLAP!

"Ow! What the fuck, Igs?"

"You. Fucking. Git!" Arthur growled between slaps. "I. Thought. You. Were. Dying! And all you have to show for it is a scratch?!"

Alfred swore, shielding himself. "Fuck no, I won't be dying any time soon! Heroes don't die, dude, watch more movies, will ya?"

Arthur got to his feet and Alfred tried to also, but Arthur pushed him down so that he lay splayed on his back. "Why the hell did you do that, Alfred?" Arthur demanded, trying to keep his composure. He felt like he was going to break down. "Why the fucking hell did you stand in front of me like that, you idiot?!"

Alfred blinked innocently up at him. "I thought that was obvious. I love you, bro." The last three words were whispered and Alfred looked away.

Arthur could feel tears fill his eyes and then spill over, but he didn't care. "I love you too, Alfred, but that doesn't mean you should risk your life for me."

Alfred cocked his head, unsure if he should look at his brother while he was crying. It brought up bad memories of the only other time Alfred had ever seen him cry… "Why not? You're just as important as me."

Arthur wiped his eyes grudgingly with back of his hand. "That isn't what I meant, Alfred… You are my little brother, so I protect you. God, you're so selfish, Alfred. What would Marjorie have said if you'd died? How would I feel if I knew I could've saved you and I—" Arthur shook his head and turned his back to him, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. "Damn, you piss me off. Try thinking of yourself for once! Not everybody needs saving, Alfred!" Alfred… He couldn't stop saying or thinking the name, the name he might have never been able to say again without thinking of a bleeding corpse…

Alfred got to his feet and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "But, Artie—"

But Arthur jerked his shoulder out of his grip. "Don't touch me, Alfred." And he walked toward the building. Alfred watched until he disappeared through the doors, obviously checking on Sadiq.

Francis had come out of the building long before, and his eyes were red and puffy as he looked at Alfred. "I would have done the same thing you did, ami."

Alfred shook his head and sat on a curb, head in his hands. "God, why am I such a fuck up all the time? Even when I save someone's life, I'm a fuck up. I don't know who I am anymore."

Francis smiled grimly down at him. "You are a hero. You can't help that part of yourself. Arthur is… stubborn. He will come around. I think what you did reminded him of how helpless he felt when he watched his other brother die. He still loves you, cher. More than you will ever know."

Alfred looked up at him. "How do you know?"

Francis gave another somber smile, studying the now setting sun. "Because I once had what he had too." He glanced over at Matthew.

Alfred and Francis both watched the sun until Matthew padded over to them, having finished his conversation with Ivan.

Matthew kicked at the dirt, his hands in his pockets, looking at his shoes. "I… I didn't want to interrupt you and Arthur."

Alfred huffed. "Actually, it would have been better if you had."

Matthew looked up. "Did he say anything hurtful to you? Because you know how he is, Al, he doesn't—"

Alfred made an offhanded gesture. "More or less. I'll live." He frowned at the last sentence. "But obviously some people don't care if they do…"

Francis watched with a somber expression, not saying anything. Matthew sighed and took a seat by Alfred. "Oh, Al…"

He was about to say something more, but Francis's eyes had just widened as he looked over their heads. "Behind you…!"

Matthew and Alfred barely had time to turn around when a man grabbed hold of Matthew's hair and placed a knife to his neck. Alfred was about to tackle him, when another man appeared out of nowhere and wrestled him to the ground, shoving his chin into the dirt, placing a gun to his head. Alfred's glasses flew off and landed in the grass a few feet away in his struggle.

"Take us to your camp!" said the man with the knife. "Or they die."

By now, Arthur and Sadiq were standing in the doorway of the shop. Arthur looked murderous.

Francis backed away with a horrified expression, his hands covering to his mouth. "Non, please…" He locked eyes with Matthew and he struggled to keep his composure.

Ivan aimed his rifle at the criminals. "Let them go."

"Not until you give us what we want."

"What do you want, then?"

"Your supplies." said the man with the gun. When no one moved, he shouted, "Now!"

Immediately, Francis slid his backpack off of his shoulders and began rummaging through it. "Faster!" the man shouted, and Francis flinched, doing so.

"W-would this do?" Francis asked and he showed them his gun. He could care less about weapons at this point.

The men examined it from afar and then the one with the knife said, "The ammo as well."

Francis nodded and began rummaging again, but just then Matthew squirmed and shouted, "Don't give it to them, Francis!"

Francis looked up at him, blinking tears from his eyes. "M-Matthieu?"

"Yeah!" Alfred said, landing a good kick to the man holding him before being tackled again. "You'll need it. Don't trust these douchebags. They'll kill us anyway!"

"Shut up!" the man with the gun said, pressing it further into the back of his head. "Or I'll blow your brains out!"

"Don't you fucking da—!" Arthur shouted, making his way toward them. But the man pointed his gun at him. "Stay where you are!"

Arthur stopped and put his hands up, glaring.

The man pointed his gun at Francis again. "Get moving, fruity."

And Francis continued, giving the man a dirty look.

All of a sudden, there was flash of red and Alfred felt the weight of the man sitting on him lift off of him. He sat up, dazed, watching as Ruby Red grappled with the man. The man screamed, waving his gun around, unable to aim as Ruby's jaws snapped at his neck. Just when she ripped the man's throat out, blood splashing over the grass, the man managed to get his gun between her and his chest and shoot.

"Ruby!"

The name barely left Alfred's lips when the loyal, Redbone Coonhound tipped over sideways, rolling off the man and bleeding out onto the grass, her chest unmoving.

Matthew's eyes moistened and the man holding him hostage raised his knife hand, trying to inspect his dead friend, when there was a loud tink and the blade flew from his hand.

"I suggest you leave." Ivan said, a shell from his AK-47 hitting the ground, the rifle aimed menacingly at the man, his dark aura about him. When the man didn't move, Ivan cocked his gun slowly. "Now."

With that, the man jumped up, releasing Matthew and running away without a backward glance.

When he was gone, it was like they all breathed a sigh of relief. Alfred crawled over to Matthew, who still lay on the ground in shock, and examined his neck after grabbing his glasses. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N-no…" Matthew said. "Just a scratch, but your shoulder…"

"Eh, it's just a scratch too."

"And Ruby…"

They both looked at her.

"She's gone." Alfred said, rubbing at his eyes. "That shot would have killed a bear."

Francis lunged forward, enveloping Matthew in a crushing hug. "Mon Dieu, mon fils!" he sobbed, burying his head in his little brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Calm down, Papa." Matthew said, trying to wriggle out of Francis's suffocating embrace. But Francis held tight and would not let go.

Alfred's eyes connected with Arthur's and he instantly knew they were both thinking the same thing, but Arthur quickly turned away, leaving Alfred annoyed and disappointed.

Alfred instead turned his attention toward Ruby Red. "She saved our lives." He muttered and moved over to her, placing his head on her still-warm body. "Loyal to the end. I wish all the people in the world were like her, then maybe this whole Uprising wouldn't have happened." He gave her a few pats and then picked her up in his arms, standing and looking around at them all. "Let's go. They'll be back with more."

And with that, they all began to head back without any words exchanged. Matthew and Francis helped Sadiq, Francis muttering frantic questions to Matthew under his breath and the Canadian responding with hissed annoyance. Ivan put away his gun and was now walking along near the head of the group. Alfred marched just ahead of him. Heroes were always first. Arthur, meanwhile, lingered at the back of the group quite a few feet behind.

Alfred was trying not to think too hard about Arthur, but Ivan suddenly sauntered over to him and held out his hands. "Give her to me, comrade."

Alfred jerked away possessively. "Why? Are you gonna brand her with your commie mark or something?"

Ivan didn't say anything, only gave an are-you-seriously-bringing-that-up-right-now look. Alfred sighed and handed Ruby's body over, feeling empty now that he wasn't holding her. Now he didn't know what to do. He looked at Ivan quizzically, and the older nation nodded over his shoulder back to where Arthur was slowly trundling along, alone and somber.

Alfred hesitated, but Ivan's creepy smile gave off more than just encouragement. So, with a sigh, Alfred stopped, waiting for his older brother, hunched over, dreading what he might hear. To him, it seemed that Arthur thought of him as a failure after his revolution. Francis had told Alfred that Arthur was just jealous and a dick, but now he was starting to doubt that theory (the Frenchman did have a vendetta against Arthur).

"Hey," Well, if there was going to be some degrading conversation, Alfred might as well start it.

"Hullo," Arthur kicked a pine cone across the path, hands in his pockets, examining the ground.

Alfred scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh, hey look, brah, if saving you was a bad thing, then just say so and drop it. I'm not down with this whole silent treatment shit."

When Arthur said nothing, Alfred was about to demand so, but Arthur suddenly grabbed him by the upper arm and whisked him behind a nearby hedge, drawing him into a hug so fast, Alfred barely had time to catch his breath before he was being squeezed tightly around the middle.

"God, I'm sorry." Arthur breathed, fingers digging into Alfred's jacket. "I'm so sorry, Alfred. I didn't mean to snap at you, but… but you just scared the shit out of me."

Alfred didn't know what to say, so he responded by hugging Arthur back. And suddenly… he just found himself… breaking down.

Alfred gave a rough heave of his chest and buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, molten tears stinging his eyes, burning his cheeks as they left sticky, salty trails. At this, Arthur sighed and began rubbing Alfred's back in soothing circles. "Alfred… It's okay, Alfred, hush now…" Arthur had to admit, he felt a little awkward consoling the country that broke his heart… and it was a bit ironic. But then again, Alfred had always been such a child, it was only expected.

"I-I love you," Alfred sniffed. It was no more than a whisper, as if he was afraid he'd be rejected.

"And I love you, Alfred." Arthur said with finality. Now he'd finally been able to say what he hadn't been able to say for the past two centuries. It felt like a massive weight off his shoulders. Now he knew that if Alfred died—God forbid—the American would know he still loved him. "And thank you for saving me today. It was a selfless act, and I'm sorry for scolding you for it. But seriously, Alfred," Arthur said, pulling away and looking at his former colony. "You scare the ever-loving shit out of me sometimes." The younger man was a tearful, whimpering mess, and Arthur couldn't help feeling a warmth swell in his chest when he knew that he was the only one who could ever see this side of Alfred, the only one whom Alfred would let see. In this state, Alfred reminded him of when he was younger, coming crying to him in the middle of the night, asking to climb into bed with him because he'd had a nightmare. Arthur had consented (even though it meant a night of sleeplessness) because he loved Alfred, and now he was consoling him because he still loved him. It was something he'd rather not share with the others, especially not with Francis. This was his and Alfred's own private, special moments, moments that still didn't fail to prove that despite how far Alfred had come in the centuries of his absence, he was still in every way in need of guidance and comfort every once in a while.

"No," Alfred said, scrubbing at his eyes, his face still red and splotchy from crying. "You're right. I didn't think of what would happen if I died. If I was killed, my states would die along with me."

Alarm clenched Arthur's stomach. "What?"

Alfred nodded. "Without me, they aren't states, and if they aren't states…"

"My God," Arthur said. "I never thought of that…. Well, I'm not saying I'm entirely right that you did the wrong thing. You did save my life."

"Yeah, but," Alfred said, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, making Arthur grimace. "I don't know what to do anymore. I can't put myself in danger, even if it means saving someone I care about, but I also don't want to let those I care about die. Dammit, I don't know what to do anymore, Artie!" Alfred sniffled again and a few more tears streaked down his cheeks.

Arthur sighed. Alfred was always sensitive to these sorts of problems. He still wasn't good at making choices… as proven with his absurd menu of 'healthy' foods and his knack for pissing the wrong people off. Arthur took a handkerchief out of his bag and handed it to Alfred. "Here, take this. I know I'm not washing your clothes anymore, but it still irks me to see snot on your sleeve."

"S-sorry," Alfred said, taking the handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose.

Arthur gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. Alfred sniffed. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not," Arthur replied. "I mean, I am. I mean… I just thought I wouldn't ever get the chance to witness your endearing stupidity again."

"I'm not stupid!"

Arthur sighed. "Apparently you don't know what the term 'endearing' means."

"N-no… it's probably something like 'wanker.' That's who I am to you now, right?"

"Of course not, Alfred." Arthur said, enveloping the man in a short hug. "It's the things I always disliked about you that I would miss the most if you were gone."

"Th-thanks…?"

"Always remember," Arthur said, pulling back and looking into wet blue eyes. "No matter what I say or do, I will always love you, Alfred. I've never stopped."

Why the hell am I being such a sap in front of this git? Arthur thought, but when Alfred glomped onto him again and let out a few more sobs, he knew he didn't mind. At least if it was just them alone. "Pull yourself together, git. They'll miss us before long. Besides, you have to give an explanation to Marjorie."

"R-right—okay." Alfred sniffed and straightened.

A few silent moments passed before Arthur cleared his throat and said, "Um… Alfred? You know you'll have to let go of me for us to walk back, right?"

"Oh, sorry," Alfred released his brother and wiped a hand under his eyes, straightening his glasses and exhaling shakily.

Arthur gave him a you're-hopeless smile. "Don't be sorry. I should be. Thank you for saving me today, Alfred." And he reached up, pulling his head down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, just like he used to do when Alfred was small, except this time, he had to stand on his toes to do it.

Alfred immediately stiffened and blushed, pulling away quicker than he wanted to and coughing, examining the surrounding buildings. "Uh, so… we should be getting back, yeah?"

"Yes, I suppose so…" Arthur eyed him suspiciously and noticed that Alfred was nervously pulling at the skin on his wrist—a habit Arthur knew he normally did when he was experiencing anxiety. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah… perfectly fine." Alfred said, trying not to think that Arthur had just kissed him on the same spot Ivan had just the night before or what the Brit might say if he found out. "Thanks for everything, man."

Arthur continued to eye him, the younger man refusing to meet his eyes. We've been having these moments too often. Arthur thought, believing he'd pinpointed the cause of Alfred's distress. He thinks he's weakening.

They eventually rejoined the rest of the group and continued into the forest, where Matthew said everyone else was awaiting their return.

Translations:

İngiliz salak-British asshole

fils-son

A Word From the Writer: Whoa, that was a total clusterfuck of emotions being tossed around. But at least we see England's motherly side. Aw, huggles! XD

And by the way, Ruby Red is named after one of the states. Probably won't find out until later.