Don't know what you have 'til it's gone

"Hey Iggy, I-"

Red.

That's what he saw.

All over the wall, the floor, and - oh God - the body.

Alfred had come to apologize -finally- for the fight that they'd had. It had been well over a month since they'd last spoken. Oh Arthur had tried to talk to him, to apologize, but his stupid pride just wouldn't allow him to accept any of Arthur's phone calls. He'd even turned Arthur away from his house on one occasion. Now he couldn't even tell you what the fight was about.

"ARTHUR ? !" Alfred rushed over to him, looking for any signs of life.

Nothing.

Iggy was cold, stiff even.

"No. Oh, God, NO! T-This can't be happening…!"

But it was. But it was happening.

Arthur Kirkland, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was lying in a pool of his own blood, on the floor of his study in his home in London, England. Gun in hand, suicide note on the desk, and picture of Alfred F. Jones in his other hand.

Alfred, slowly, as if he was on autopilot, gathered up his Iggy, held him tight, and cried.


He wasn't sure how long he sat there, on the floor, in the blood, holding his Arthur, but after quite some time, it slowly dawned on him that he needed to be calling people. The police. The government. And the other countries. Especially Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Sealand. They were family after all. Even if Arthur wasn't on the best speaking terms with most - if not all - of them, they still disserved to know. Their bother was dead.

He just didn't want to get up. He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that his Iggy was gone.

But he was.

Slowly Alfred shifted around to the phone on Arthur's desk. Picking it up, he stared at it for a while. Finally he started dialing

"M-Mattie, I need you to come to A-Arthur's house. I don't k-know what to do."


Alfred doesn't remember much after that phone call. Just sitting on the floor waiting for Matthew, holding Iggy. But what he will always remember is the feeling of being utterly lost. Of not knowing what to do.

And the horrible, burning question: Why?

Alfred has never been the same after that day. The life just seemed to be sucked out of him, he stopped eating his beloved burgers, in fact it was a rarity that you saw him eating at all. He lost weight, and the spark that had always seemed to fill his eyes was gone, now they were hollow, empty. Many of the other counties were concerned that they were going to lose him in addition to Arthur. He just seemed like he didn't want to go on living, but he did. Because unlike Arthur there would be no one to take his place. No one to be the personification of America if he took his own life. He wasn't even sure that he could take his life for that very purpose. Iggy had been able to do it because his brothers could pick up the slack, but America didn't have that, he was stuck to keep living, lest he take down the whole country with him. So he would keep on living, in honor of Arthur, he would keep on going. Even though he would like nothing more than to folllow, he would live.


A/N *sigh* It's 2 am and this is crap. Read a fanfic a while ago on DA and, to me, it didn't feel finished. And this idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so here is my utter crap-on-a-stick continuation of her story. I'm not even sure this can be called a story, more like a drabble really…

In one of her reply comments, she posted 3 possible reactions from Alfred, I ended up going a different rout and ended up at depressed and lost!Alfred. I really think that if this happened that poor Al just wouldn't know what to do with himself, especially if they were already in a relationship. (In my version they were if you didn't catch that) I think that our fun-loving, burger-eating America would be gone, for a long time after these events, possibly forever. Doesn't that just make you want to huggle him?

Original story belongs to Arabellanitehart on DA, story: -And I knock on death's door-

Hetalia belongs to Himaruya

Alfred: Why is it that whenever you post something it's about character death?

Ikuto: Yeah why is that?

Me: I don't know….Good question…

Alfred and Ikuto: -sweetdrop-

Arthur: Can I get up now? -has been playing dead-

Alfred: IGGY! Your not dead! -tackle glomp-

Arthur: GET OFF OF ME, YOU GIT!

Me: -watching them- This is very amusing, much happier than what I just wrote -gleeful simile-

Ikuto: Well anyway, review!