Lucid Memories

Chapter 20: Departure

*Just to make this clear, in this story, nations only use human names with each other if they're in public with humans or if they are close to each other, like family or lovers.

Summary: Rev!America is brought back to the present, replacing the current America. By chance, England was there when all of this happened. Why is he here? What about his broken heart from the Revolutionary War? US/UK, based on Kink Meme on Livejournal.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

The engine roared into Arthur's ears. It was a Saturday morning. It was the first day of October. He and Alfred had woken up at five in the morning for that day. To make sure that Arthur has packed everything for his trip back to London. Arthur grumpily threw a fuss when Alfred woke him up with a kiss. At first, Arthur resisted, but the Englishman eventually gave in and took the good morning greeting, anyway, warily draping his arms over the American's shoulders with a lazy grin. England had already packed up the night before; he didn't have much to pack. The Englishman never brought much with him on these business trips. He wasn't a tourist. He has gone to Alfred's place too many times to really expect himself to be amazed by the Statue of Liberty or the Golden Gate Bridge after seeing them for more than a hundred times. Although he did think that certain parts of America were beautiful… Anyway, they have woken up when the sun still hasn't risen up yet. They ate a quick breakfast and rush to the airport to make sure that Arthur wouldn't miss his ride.

"Are you okay there, England?" Alfred cheerfully asked. Arthur nearly died in the car to Alfred's terrifying driving. He was nearly crying by the time they have found a tight parking space near the airport's entrance. The Yeager Airport wasn't that far away; it was in Charleston, West Virginia's capitol city. The morning traffic wasn't that bad, so it didn't take them that long to get to their destination in less than an hour.

"I'm fine….just fine…" Arthur felt like hell when he stepped out of the car. He was so glad to get off of that death machine…

There was no struggle dropping Arthur's luggage and finding the terminal. His plane was to be located in terminal seventy six. It would take them awhile to find the terminal. His flight was scheduled to take off around eleven, Charleston time. Alfred was very lucky to have managed to find a business plane ticket for the Englishman, especially at the last minute. The American's problem had delayed England's ride; Arthur had no idea when he would be able to return to Europe. Arthur's plane ride had two stops before arriving to London; this meant that he would have to sleep through the long plane rides, because according to his flight ticket, it was a thirteen and a half hour trip. If the plane stayed on schedule, it should arrive to London at around twelve o'clock AM, but that was in Charleston time. Arthur would really arrive to England at five o'clock in the morning, London time. The English nation didn't want to think about being dragged from plane to plane before getting home. Arthur had flown a plane before, but being a passenger on one seemed to be an entirely different scenario. There was nothing to distract him from realizing that he was hundreds of miles above the ground. He didn't like the food or the comfort of the plane either; it made him sick.

"Looks like we still have lots of time!" Alfred cheerfully stated when they found terminal seventy six. What a long walk. It took up more time than Arthur thought it would have.

Arthur checked his left wrist. It was quarter to ten. The plane wouldn't start boarding until ten thirty. The English nation was still tired from waking up so early in the morning. He wasn't much of a morning person. He denied Alfred's coffee when the American man offered it to him. Arthur didn't want to wake up to tasting that crap. The American took the liberty to carry England's carry-on bag and had it slung over his shoulder. England didn't put much in his carry-on bag either; he had his laptop and documents kept and neatly stored away.

The terminal itself was rather small and it wasn't built to hold or sustain a lot of people. Adults and children alike were sitting around aimlessly, waiting for their flight. Some were reading books or magazines, hoping to past the time, quietly flipping each page when they finished. Parents hoping to save money brought their own food with them and told their children to eat them before boarding on the plane, sending several kids crying in refusal. Others didn't bother and bought food or snacks from the overpriced shops near the terminal and ate them with empty enthusiasm. Older passengers had their eyes focused on the TV screen that was displayed above their head; CNN was on. Teenagers were seen listening to their iPods, cranking up the music to maximum volume, ignoring their parents' warnings. Shouts in some foreign language could be heard in the cluster of many voices. A young girl of fifteen was seen texting and chatting into her cell phone like there was no tomorrow; her thin fingers texted away, scattering across the keyboard in impatient rhythm. Small children begged their parents to let them have one more ice cream cone, promising that they wouldn't ask for more after that one. The older children were running across the room, chasing each other and making lots of noises, pinching and taunting their younger siblings. Babies cried to the top of their lungs, burying their small faces into their mothers' bosoms, hungry and thirsty. Already worn out parents stared at the ceiling, asking themselves when would hell come to its end. A uniformed lady at the front desk held a calm face, but Arthur suspected that years of experience had taught her how to be patient and tolerant of such chaos early in the morning. There must have been roughly thirty or forty people in the room.

"Do you want to walk around?" Alfred quietly asked Arthur. "I'm not too sure if you want to sit here all by yourself." He pointed to the crowd of people in the room. "I don't see any available seats." All of the seats were taken. How was it that all of these people had always arrived to the terminal before he did?

The Englishman nodded. "Yeah," He stared at the chaotic group. "We can walk around."

The American beamed. "Great!" He slapped his arm around England. "Are you hungry?"

"Twat!" England cried. Alfred nearly made the Englishman fall because of his weight. "Get off me!" He tried to push Alfred's weight away from his body. "You weigh too much!"

"Aw," Alfred pouted. "You're so mean." His face turned sad with the characteristics of a small child. "That's not what you said last night…"

Alfred watched Arthur's face turn beef red and shouted. "W-who said that?" England eyes nearly popped out. "I-I never said that, A-alfred!" He nervously laughed. "W-what ever, were you talking about?" Thoughts of last night briefly lapped over his mind. The Englishman stubbornly pushed the memories away in attempts to calm himself down. He refused to make a big scene out of this.

"You don't need to shout," US looked amused at England's denial. "Look. You're attracting attention." People were staring at the two of them. Nearly half of the people in the room had turned their head around to see what the commotion was. The others could have cared less and went on with their lives. Nothing much to see. Arthur was red as Antonio's tomatoes and stuttering out shouts of denial. Alfred was standing beside him with the Englishman's bag. Alfred was wearing a poker face. People could have mistaken them as brothers in disagreement. If Alfred wasn't holding Arthur's hand.

"S-stop holding my hand!" Arthur stuttered and took his hand away. Alfred's hands were always so warm. They remained to radiate heat, even in a cool October morning. Arthur wanted to place his cold cheeks against Alfred's palm.

Alfred chuckled and brushed his lover's pale cheeks. He gave a small peck at Arthur's cheeks. So soft. "You're so cute when you blush, Arthur."

"People could see us!" The English nation cried.

"Only if you make so much noise," The American charmingly smiled. He took England's hand again. "Do you want to go get those scones from Starbucks?" Alfred heard the Englishman mumble that Starbucks was 'overrated' and that their scones 'weren't good', but Arthur agreed to his plans and followed the American, holding hands.

"Is Albert okay?" England asked after they exited Starbucks. Alfred bought himself a small cup of coffee and a two blueberry scones to share with Arthur. US claimed that they tasted 'way better than your crap', but the younger nation was wearing a twinkling smile when he said it, so England thought that he was joking. It was hard to determine whether the American was joking or not.

"Albert told me that he would call me later today. I think he's alright." US replied. He took a small sip from his cup.

The New Yorker had already caught his train ride a day ago. New York told Arthur to take care of his father and to not allow him to do anymore idiotic things when the New Yorker wasn't there to check on his father. The former empire could only sigh and agree to the state's favor.

"Is he still mad at you?" Arthur asked. He was holding onto the bag of scones with the tip of his fingers.

Alfred blinked. "Yeah…" He looked away. "He's still mad at me…"

England noticed US's hesitation and understood. "I see."

After New York caught him and England in action, US faced the whole day in the wrath of his child, listening to his constant complaints and shouts. When Arthur wasn't within earshot, Alfred quietly talked to the state and tried to explain to him the reasons of his actions, without so much success. Albert was quite stubborn at times. This wasn't the first time Alfred had hid something from his kids. They didn't like it. Alfred didn't like it, but he felt that it was sometimes necessary. He and Albert had made a schedule to meet again sometime this week to talk again. It would take awhile for New York to eventually learn to trust his father again.

"Are you alright?" Arthur gently asked. "No voices in your head?" He tried to sound light hearted when he said that. Alfred heard England's voice crack.

"No," Alfred was serious when he answered his question. "No voices in my head." He rubbed the side of his head when he thought of what he had gone through for the past couple of weeks.

"That's good." Arthur said.

"Yeah." Alfred quietly agreed.

Alfred visited his doctor again a few days ago. After exchanging casual greetings to the doc, they went straight to business. US had known the man since the sixties. Going through numerous tests of both physical and mental, Alfred answered all of their questions. He went through of their procedures and he had cooperated with them like he always did. When the results were mailed back, it was official: Alfred was no longer diagnosed with D.I.D. It was a miracle, they thought. It was 'fascinating', they worded it. D.I.D. was curable, they said, but it always took time and lots of effort. It does take lots of time and effort to break free, Alfred thought.

How did he do it? Alfred told them that he and his other self have merged. Ah, they said, that's becoming a more common way of treatment nowadays. Oh, others replied, no more medicine and therapy. Alfred honestly could have cared less. D.I.D. has never made anything clear or absolute to him. At least when it came to stress, which applied to him more than it would have to the average man. Nothing was certain. He wasn't too sure of why he had two personalities. The experts said it was because of the trauma from war. He did not know why the other personality kept thinking that he was from the past. He and England reasoned that it was because that part of Alfred was stuck in the past. He wasn't even too sure how long he had this condition. How many years has it been? Ninety? One hundred? Things may have been unclear to him, but he was certain that it lasted longer than a century. Maybe even two centuries. It was the only thing he was sure of when it came to his condition of once having multiple personalities.

But it didn't matter anymore. Because Alfred was free. He no longer held cloudy thoughts. Like England, he too had will eventually recovered from the past. He was cured, but that didn't mean that he has entirely forgotten about the past. The past would always be in his memories. He would heal. Not overnight, but as time passes by, and Arthur would be there for him.

"We have an hour left." Alfred declared. The sudden sound of his voice surprised Arthur. He was so quiet for the past several minutes. They were silently walking around the airport, making sure that they stayed close to Arthur's terminal.

"I guess I'll be leaving soon." The Englishman said sadly. They were still holding hands.

"Sorry for being an idiot." US apologized for the umpteenth time. "Sorry for making you worry so much."

"I know." Arthur took a small bit out of his scone. It tasted too sweet. He looked down at his clothes. He was wearing the same suit he was wearing during the UN meeting. One of buttons looked loose; he would have to sew it back when he got back home.

Alfred hugged the smaller man. "Sorry for being so distant with you lately."

"Alfred?" The English nation gawked at his partner. The American somehow managed to hold onto England's bag and a cup of coffee in one hand, and hug Arthur with his free hand. It was a short hug since it was only with one arm, but it was sweet of him. Arthur blushed underneath the American's arm and wore a small smile.

"Thank you for staying with me." The American nation smiled back. He threw his coffee cup into the trash bin and dropped England bag. He gave England a full bear hug and thanked him. "Thank you, Arthur. Thank you. For accepting me. For being with me. For everything."

For a moment, Arthur thought he heard the two of them. The two Alfreds. Wait. "That's…" England stared at Alfred wide eyed. It was the same thing Alfred had said the other day…

Alfred frowned when he glared at Arthur's watch. "You need to go now." His thin eyebrows crossed in thought. Ten fifteen.

"I suppose we'll have to walk back to terminal seventy six." England said.

US sighed. "Seventy six." He repeated. The American frowned again. 1776. No, he mentally shook his head. Don't think about it. It's over. The nightmare was over. He thought of the man who was in his arms, Arthur, who had his trust and has stayed by his side. Alfred was done with the past. He needed to think about the present.

"Relax." England rested his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He read the younger man's tense mood. "Don't stress over it. It's just a number." Now Arthur was the one comforting the younger nation. His took Alfred's free hand and rested his cheek against it. "Relax." Arthur whispered.

"Right." Alfred gulped.

Arthur still saw his shoulders rising up. The English gentleman sighed and leaned towards the American. The man's sudden move was unexpected and caught Alfred by surprise. Alfred's bright cerulean eyes widened when he found himself being kissed by the English nation.

"Just calm down," Arthur's mouth movements told Alfred. Alfred felt his tense nerves relax and gave in. Arthur's honey lips brushed over Alfred's again, repeatedly painting them over with wet and saliva, passionately brushing them over with gentility. The tip of their tongues met and very briefly twisted around each other, an odd mimicry of an embracement. Alfred's strong arms embraced Arthur; the two of them forgot that they were kissing in the middle of an airport. If the janitor came in and caught them, they probably wouldn't have noticed or have cared.

Alfred eventually came back into his senses and broke away from the kiss. "It's getting late." He panted. Ten thirty one. They have been kissing for quite awhile.

Arthur panted back. "Shit!" He cursed. "I'm late!"

"You'll call me on my cell when you get back, right?" Alfred asked the older nation. He was still holding onto England. They were currently standing in an empty terminal where it was isolated from the rest of the airport. Nobody saw them together.

"I'll call you." Arthur promised. "I need to go. Now." First class was already boarding in right now. Arthur was in the business class. He would come right after them. He could still make it.

They ran to terminal seventy six. First class has just finished boarding in. With a quick last minute kiss, Arthur went into the line that led to the plane. He flashed his passport to the security and was let in. Before he left, he heard Alfred shout out, "Call me when you get home!" It sounded like Alfred was going to cry. Just like the old days. When Arthur left the child all by himself as a colony.

Arthur's mouth opened, but no words fell out. He just stood there with his mouth hanging opening like an angler fish. He just stared at his lover; his eyes couldn't leave Alfred's sun kissed face. Oh, how much he wished that US could come onto the plane with him. But Alfred had no business with the UK. His boss would question him for going to London without an explanation. England could hear the clutter of voices in the background. Arthur turned his back away to get to his plane, disappear into from view. In a few minutes, the plane would take off…

Arthur dragged his carry-on bag and walked briskly through the long tunnel. He made a quick right turn and kept walking forward. He could still hear Alfred's cries of good byes. Arthur nearly cried. He didn't like to say good byes. He never did. Even after years, centuries, of saying good byes, he could never get used to the small tugging feeling of leaving. It was part of being a nation. You never stay in one place for long. Nations are like a nomads. They never stay in one place in fear of being discovered by humans. Stronger nations like him have found colonies and had to leave them all the time in order to attend to other affairs. For Arthur, leaving Alfred was always a bother to him. If he was human, he could have just moved to America and live with Alfred, or vice versa. Not for the first time in his very long life, Arthur envied humans. Humans had control of their lives. They were not strained under chains of politics like nations were…

The Englishman boarded the plane and was greeted by the pilot. England exchanged greetings with him. He saw flight attendants standing at the back of the plane, casually chatting with each other. Many of the passengers were flopped on their seats. Parents already fell asleep on their seats. Children were bouncing around their seats, staring and pointing at random objects outside the plane window. Those that were new to flying were trying to figure out how to use their seatbelts and wore irritated looks on their faces. Others sat quietly in their seats and just stared at what was in front of them.

England's seat was right behind the first class; it was next to the window, so he had the window's view. He stared outside the thick round hole. All he could see was the big white building that was connected to the plane by the rectangular tunnel. He thought he saw flickers of blond hair. Alfred? He placed his hand over the window and kept his eyes on the figure.

"We will be preparing for takeoff." The pilot's voice bounced off the small walls of the plane.

Alfred, England sighed. The American has just recovered from the recent incident. It worried US. He never knew that Alfred had held so much doubt inside himself. Alfred always made himself appear bigger than he really was. He made himself be this hero that seemed to have absolutely no doubt or hints of being shot down for his ideas. Arthur knew that Alfred was struggling to recover. The American was struggling to make up for those years of running away by being more honest with Arthur. Arthur found himself not being with Alfred himself at times. Both of them would to work hard to learn how to be more honest with each other. Being honest was hard. Especially when there was doubt behind to motivation of hiding secrets. Alfred was not going to recover overnight. England knew that. It took England awhile to recover from traumas of the Revolution. But the English nation thought. He knew that. He knew that Alfred would one day recover. One day, Alfred would see that both US and England meant well. Both meant to make themselves as happy as possible, but one of them had to cut the link to live and survive.

"I forgive you, Alfred." Arthur whispered. His breathed on the window, watching the plastic material turn white from his hot breathe. He thought he saw the figure nod his head.

The plane took off.

When England left, US thought he saw a face mouth something to him. Arthur? He stared at through the glass window towards the plane's direction. The face had blond hair, but was it really him?

Alfred closed his eyes. His blue eyes were hidden behind his eyelids. "He forgave me." He said simply. He forgave him. For a moment, Alfred almost thought that he heard England's voice.

"Be happy." His voice brought the chills to Alfred's bones.

"I am happy." US said out loud.

"As long as we're together…" His voice trailed off.

Alfred loved England. He knew he loved England. Even back when he was a child, but the emotion had the tone of childish adoration. The American's feelings to the English nation grew to be affectionate and lustful. Their relation had love and lust in one sentence. He wasn't fully recovered yet, but he knew that one day, Arthur would come to him and Alfred would stop handling the Englishman like a fragile doll in fear of hurting both Arthur and himself. Alfred would learn to trust himself. Alfred would one day learn drop his doubt and begin to smile more. He was not fully cured of doubt, he knew that. The deep wound was starting to heal and fill in the gaps in his heart. The stitches of the Anglo-American relationship were already at work. There was time to heal. The day would eventually come…

Alfred opened his eyes and saw the plane take off. Like a bird, the vehicle rode on the hard surface of the ground, picking up its pace. After several minutes, it finally launched itself into the air, ready for flight. The sound of the plane pierced through the thick glass window Alfred was still standing at.

Alfred would still get his weekly therapies from his doctor. He was no longer diagnosed with D.I.D., but the doctor would continue to run more tests and talks with him. Until he was positive that America had disappeared for good. Somehow, Alfred had a feeling that America would keep his word and remain part of him. Because for once in his life, Alfred felt whole. As a person. There was no apparent empty hold into of him. He could still feel the warmth of England's body against his. He could feel his heart grow warm from the merge of two souls.

I forgive you. Several people had said it. But. Alfred felt that he was now saying it to himself too. He wasn't just saying it to please himself. He really did forgive himself. He said it out loud to test the sound of it. It rang in his ears.

Perhaps he was forgiven after all.

Read and review! I'm sorry if the ending seemed too loose. Sorry if it disappoints you. I was typing this the very night before school starts and I got very excited that I was so close to finishing the story. So I apologized if the chapter seemed too rushed. Wow, the story is done. I'm just speechless. I don't know what to say…

UK: Finally! It's done!

US: Party in the house! *throws Whale-san into the pool*

RS: I feel sad now…I have nothing else to type now.

US: Well, everything has to come to an end.

RS: Yeah…I'm glad I decided to finish this big project. I couldn't have done it without you guys' review! Despite my craptastic grammar, most of you guys were patient with me and continued to read on. *gloomy* I need to brush up my grammar…

UK: *sigh* They didn't say you had horrid grammar. They said your grammar was awkward at times.

RS: Oh. I see. BTW…where did that whale come from? *points at Whale-san*

US: I carried him from D.C. Why?

RS: …No comment

UK: Agree.

RS: Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading this. You have no idea how much I appreciated your time and patience to deal with me.

US: Let's do a triple back cannon ball flip! *throws Whale-san off of the diving board*



RS: I'm surrounded by weirdos! TTATT