I'm sorry this took so long... Something came up rather unexpectedly, and then we went to a family reunion. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.
I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/
England had stayed at his post in the meeting room, pretending that he didn't care as much as he did. His actions made it quite clear, however, to the other nations in the room his feelings. Canada shifted uncomfortably. "I sent Kuniko down to watch America, so I think that-"
"Angleterre, don't be so sad... It will all blow over and he'll be back to normal before you know it." France unwittingly cut Canada off, unaware that he was talking. He put a hand on England's shoulder, though the Englishman shrugged it off.
"I'm bloody fine, you know." It was completely unconvincing, despite the mild irritation embedded in it. The room was empty other than the three of them, though it felt as though it were only the two of them to the elder pair. Poor Canada, though just as worried as the other two, as usual, was forgotten.
"Of course you are." France decided to cut the other country some slack. He knew America was his baby, really, even if England tried to forget it at times.
England checked his watched impatiently, head cocked to the side. He sighed, an irritated sound, before putting his arm back down and surveying the room for what had to be the thirtieth time. France bit his lip, then spoke in a consoling tone, "Maybe we could check a couple minutes early... I'm sure America wouldn't care."
England hesitated, then nodded with a sigh. He felt like a nervous parent, checking in so often, but with the state America was in, it was certainly justified. He flipped open his phone, using speed-dial to reach America's place.
The phone rang for a minute, making England worry through the seconds that this time, America wouldn't pick up, that this time, he'd hurt himself or forgotten how to use a phone. But then the excited voice came on, and he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"Hi. Hi! Dis is- Dis is America!" America's language skills had been going of late, and it scared England to no end. It was only so much longer until he couldn't talk at all, or walk, then a little longer until he couldn't lift himself, and then until he could barely move at all, and what would become of him then?
"Hi America, this is England. Do you remember me?" England spoke slowly and clearly. There was a pause on the other end, then the bright exclamation of, "Engwind! You're my buddy!"
"Yes, yes I am, America. Are you okay? Does anywhere hurt?" They'd been over this so many times over the past day or so, but somehow it always seemed to be new to America. There was a long pause before the tiny tot spoke again.
"I got toes. I love you-" and here the voice became a little more distant as America presumably forgot to speak directly into the phone "-And I know where the baffroom is."
Irrelevant, yes. More than enough to make England's heart ache? Indeed.
England swallowed, more and more unsure of America. The little one had been getting increasingly random, like he didn't bother to listen to the question before coming up with an answer.
"And I like ice cream, and candy, and cake..." America babbled on, and England could only believe it was because he didn't have anyone else to talk to. He cleared his throat loudly, and America stopped.
"Did you eat anything?" He waited patiently for a response, and in due time, he got one.
"No... Engwind, I can not get the food!" This was followed by a pathetic sniffle, for England had just reminded the distractable babe of his dilemna.
"Well, calm down, it's okay... Remember, there's some crackers and biscuits in the... left cupboard next to the drawer. Just look in there, alright?" He was using a gentler tone, hoping that America would listen this time.
"Okay, okay, I go look!" And with that, he cheerily hung up the phone. England sighed, looking over at France. There was no telling how long this would go on.
"He's even worse than before. I'm afr- thinking, thinking that he might regress to too young to care for himself soon," England said, which really was ludicrous. The child wasn't old enough to take of himself as it was.
France patted him on the shoulder. "We can only hope it does not, mon ami. We will call him in the next half an hour, do not worry."
A half an hour later, they were answered with a ringtone. America was lost to them.
America's favorite spot had been under the large oak in his front yard. Alright, it was his favorite spot outside. But they couldn't have very well buried him in front of his tv, England reasoned numbly.
It was a cloudy day, which England though appropriate. All the nations gathered around the tiny mound, where a plaque on the tree denoted the occupant of the grave.
A hero to friends, family and the world. Rest in peace.
The stinging in England's eyes told him he was crying, and he didn't fight to stop it. Why America, out of all of them? Why? He'd been so full of life, so young... Why had he been taken away from them, and in so painful a way?
He knew these questions would never be answered. He'd stopped believing in God some time ago, so there would be no one to ask. All he could do was hold on to memories, as he had with so many of his own people. America would not ever be forgotten.
The group filed away, after each paying their last respects. Flowers were left on the grave, of many different varieties. Each state's flower had been found for this last occasion. England was the last to leave, turning his back on one of the most important people he had ever known.
"Goodbye," he whispered, and left with a heavy heart.
In the bushes not too far away, brown eyes watched curiously, and baby hands crawled forward hesitantly. With the death of the old comes the birth of the new...
/AN/ And that ends it! I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I did!