Hetalia: Axis Powers and all its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, I do not own it in anyway. Any political leaders that ay be mentioned in this fanfiction are all fictional characters and have never, and will never, exist in real life. Everything that takes place in this fanfiction is strictly fictional.

This fanfiction will have new lyrics for every chapter. You may listen to the song if you wish, because all the lyrics are matched up with the chapter as best as possible, if you do not have to listen to the song to make the story more emotional.

This fanfiction may consist of emotional triggers for some. If you are one who will be triggered by depression I warn you now.

"Where has that old friend gone?
Lost in a February song
Tell him it wont be long
till he opens his eyes
Opens his eyes. . .

Where is that simple day?
Before colors broke into shades
and how did I ever fade into this life?
Into this life?

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you, I
I'll come back to you one day

Morning is waking up
And sometimes its more then just enough
And all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes

In front of your eyes

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
Sometimes its hard to find my ground
Cause I keep on falling as Im trying to get away
From this crazy world

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
And all that I've know is lost and found
I promise you I
I'll come back to you one day

Where has that old friend gone?
Lost in a February song
Tell him it wont be long
till he opens his eyes

Opens his eyes. . ."

~February Song – Josh Groban

"Hum! La~ La~"

The Englishman took his time cooking his lunch as he played the radio to keep his house from being oddly silent. He nodded his head and swayed himself to the music as he poured more ingredients into the pan of food. There were no plans for today, and no work to be done. At last, a day to spend all to himself and stress free. He needed the break, and he was thankful for it.

Just as he finished cooking and was about to sit down, the doorbell rang. The Englishman rolled his eyes and set his food down, beginning to make his way to the door.

"Why the bloody hell is anyone here?" He grumbled to himself, "God, it better not be Alfred or else he's going to get the shit beat out of him. I specifically told him not to visit!"

The doorbell ran again, and only a few seconds later again, and again, and again. When Arthur finally reached the door he knew for a fact who it was and was almost ready to rip his head off; throwing the door open and his teeth gritted in anger.

"Alfred!" Arthur screamed, "If you so much as touch that door chime again I will kick your bloody arse back to Hawaii!"

The American stood in the Brits doorway with multiple bags, his finger almost touching the doorbell. He slowly moved his hand from the door and put it back at his side, his lips stuck out in shock of the sudden burst of anger. Looking around for a few seconds, Alfred set his eyes back on the emerald eyed man and grinned, "Hi, Iggy!"

Arthur sighed, "Hello, Alfred. . ." He stood beside the door, holding it open as he let the American enter. Once he was inside he closed the door behind them and crossed his arms, watching Alfred set down his bags and take off his shoes and bomber jacket; which he set on the table by the door, "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you not to come?"

Alfred laughed and walked into the living room, "Because I was still here!" He glanced at the Brit and smiled, "I was bored and had nothing else to do. I would have been stuck at a hotel all day waiting for my plane. Dude, I'm gonna have some serious jet lag when I get back!" He laughed.

"Your fault for picking such a time to go back," Arthur said, rolling his eyes and leaning himself against one of the living room walls

"What?" Alfred grinned, "I have to go to a meeting today back home and if I left too early I would fall asleep when I got back and not get up again!"

"Tsk." Arthur shook his head, "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Love you too, Iggy~!" The dirty blond said cheerfully.

The Englishman sighed again and turned to his kitchen, "Since you're here, would you like some tea or food? I had just finished making lunch for myself and everything is still out."

"Uh..." Alfred looked around nervously, "I'm, uh, fine on food! Thanks anyways."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at him, "You? Not hungry? Ha! Liar. I bet you just don't want to eat my food, just like everyone else!"

Alfred rubbed the back of his head, "Haha... I... Uh... Yeah... Kinda... But you can't blame me! No one wants to eat it."

Arthur huffed and headed back into his kitchen, "Fine then. You're not getting any sort of food from me for a long while. I might as well at least offer the tea again. Do you want any?"

The American pondered over this for a moment then perked up and raised a finger, "Do you happen to have any that has a good taste and has caffeine?"

"I have plenty with caffeine. As for it tasting good, that's up to you."

Alfred followed the Brit into the kitchen and watched over his shoulder as he began putting away the ingredients he had had out. He then began taking out everything to make him, and his surprise guest, a cup of tea. The teen gave up on watching and propped himself up against one of the counters, watching the Englishman from the corner of his eye as he began pouring water into a kettle.

After Arthur set the water out to let it heat he looked up and began walking towards the hallway, "I'll be right back. Don't destroy anything, got it?" he glared harshly at the teen.

Alfred laughed loudly then waved to his friend, "Yeah, yeah I got it!"

The Englishman stared for another few moments, then rolled his eyes. He walked out of the room and down the halls as Alfred waited behind. The American took a quick glance at the clock. 2:27. He had three hours before his plane came. Hopefully Arthur wouldn't mind him hanging with him for a while. I mean, it wasn't like he would be there all day. Arthur had to have understood. Besides, what's wrong with wanting to spend time with someone?

His random thoughts only lasted a few moments, but Arthur still wasn't back yet. Another glance at the clock. 2:28. Wait. 2:29. It had only been two minutes, no reason to get anxious. The kettle wasn't even screaming yet. Haha, screaming. Jeez, he laughed at the weirdest things.

Alfred repositioned himself against the counter. Another glance at the clock. 2:29 still. Man, he was getting impatient. He sighed, rubbed his eyes and looked at the hallway. Nothing. He looked back at the clock. Still 2:29!

It only took a few more seconds before it turned to 2:30. Alfred rolled his eyes, "Dude. English clocks must be slow! That took foreve-"

A sudden pain shot through his heart. A sharp, agonizing pain; an unbearable pain. Alfred shoved himself off of the counter at once, gripping his heart in agony. What the hell just happened? Why did his heart hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a thousand butcher knives where slowly carving his heart out one by one? No. It felt worse than that. It felt like an electric shock that just kept building and building, burning and ripping apart his heart from the inside out.

He gasped for air and latched onto the counter in front of him in order to stop his fall. Lightheadedness, yes, things where starting to spin. What . . . What was happening? He shouldn't feel like this! A natural disaster? Was that it? In Washington D.C.? What else could it-

"Gahhhhh!" Alfred screamed, his left arm giving out on him as it felt like the veins and muscles has just exploded inside of his bicep. He fell to the ground, his head hitting the counter as he fell. Was that... Chicago? Did Chicago get hit with it too? Wait... A natural disaster wouldn't hit two cities so far away from each other. What was going on? What was happening?

Right before he hit the ground his left side felt like it had just been blown apart. He let out a shriek, his body hitting the floor at full force. All the wind had been forced out of him, but when he tried to take a breath his lungs wouldn't take all of the air. They wouldn't. At least not the one on the side that had just been hurt. Every time he took even the slightest breath all that he could feel was a dagger skinning him alive rather then the relief of breathing.

His lung... That was where Louisville, Kentucky was... Another major city? How was this possible? Three cities? How... He was certain now it was no natural disaster. No way. No fucking way. The only possibility... No... That couldn't be it. It just couldn't! How were they able to infiltrate him like this? How? How?

Alfred laid on his stomach, unable to turn himself around to even take the slightest pain off of himself. His vision began to blur as tears swelled up in his eyes. How could this be happening... How could it be-

"Ahhh!" Another scream. This time, his right ankle was on fire. Burning. Maybe even broken. The bones shattered. If he had looked, he would have seen it wasn't true, but it felt as though the bones were piercing through his skin. Los Angles... There was no way! But the pain told him it was true... It was... Horrible. Absolutely horrible.

By this time he was having a major difficulty breathing as more and more places on his body began to feel as though they were being torn apart from the inside out or imploding on themselves. The kettle now began whistling, the screeching drowning out Alfred's own screams. More and more pain; more and more difficulties breathing; more and more screaming. Arthur needed to hear this. If he didn't he wouldn't have known what was happening. Alfred didn't even know if he would be able to hear, but he tried. He tried as best as he could just to be able to scream out his brother's name. Just to get it out of his mouth... Just say it... Say it, Alfred... Say it. You need help. You need to call for him. Why won't you speak, damn it? Why can't you speak? Why..?

"A-Ar-th-thur!" Alfred finally shouted as loud as he could, which wasn't much being unable to catch a breath. Again and again, he screamed, his throat soar ever since Pittsburgh had been hit.

Only after a few more times of screaming, the teen had finally caught the attention of the Englishman who had been down the hall. Arthur came running at full speed, not knowing what he was going to see once he reached the kitchen with Alfred sounding that way, but he didn't think it would be anything good. He knew that much.

"Alfred!" Arthur screamed, rounding the corner of the hall and kitchen, almost slipping because of how fast he was going.

Alfred continued to gasp for breath, his lungs incapable of holding the oxygen. If this lasted much longer he might have passed out, but he struggled to stay conscious. The only thing on his mind was the safety of his people. He needed to keep his people safe.

When he caught sight of Arthur, he stretched out his hand. He couldn't stop shaking; maybe it was the pain; or maybe just the lack of energy all together that he couldn't keep his hand steady. All he knew for a fact was that he couldn't move anymore and that his innards felt like they were both imploding and exploding inside of him.

"I-Iggy..!" Alfred managed to say once more, his eyes full of fear as he stared the best he could at his friend's feet.

"My God!" Arthur yelled, slipping onto his knees and taking Alfred's head onto his lap, "What the bloody hell happened to you?" He bit his lip as he listened to Alfred groan and try to catch his breath. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know what was happening, besides that Alfred was hurt, which meant something bad was happening to the United States. What... what should he do? He hated seeing Alfred in so much pain. He hated it!

"I-Iggy..." Alfred moaned, reaching up with shaky hands to grab hold of the Brit's shirt and maybe allow his lungs more room to breath, "I... c-can't..." He stopped every few seconds in order to force the air into his lungs. With how much energy he was using sweat began to accumulate on his body and rolled down his face, and the sudden explosions of pain made it worse.

"Alfred," Arthur said quickly, grabbing his friend's hand, "Don't speak. You need to focus on breathing."

"D.C..." The American continued to talk, ignoring the pleas of his former care taker, "W-what... Ha-happen... ed?"

Arthur shushed him, "Everything will be fine, Alfred. Please... Be quiet." He held him close to his chest and clasped his hand to comfort the shaking nation.

"Gah!" Another sharp pain shot through Alfred's heart, causing him to start coughing uncontrollably. His shirt was soaked with sweat and his body was trembling. "Igg-" He coughed, the feeling of his throat ripping apart scaring him, "...gy... My... P-peo..." Another mass of coughing, the taste of blood on his tongue, "People..."

The Englishman could see that things were getting worse and he needed to do something. He took Alfred and lifted him up into his arms, determined to get him up off the floor. The teen was still coughing wildly, and even though he was weak he tried his best to keep his mouth covered, placing his hand over it. The pain never ceased as Arthur quickly brought him to the living room and set him on the couch.

"It's all going to be fine, Alfred." Arthur said, the panic he had now showing in his voice. He reached for the T.V. remote, hoping that there would be news about what was happening in America. Like he expected, there was, but as soon as his eyes fell upon the sight his heart sunk deep inside of him. He took a quick glance back at his former colony. Horror was painted all over Alfred's face as he watched fires and explosions plague his cities; watched his people, filled with terror, run, scream and die; watch them being crushed under falling buildings, jumping from the burning ones, laying on the ground bleeding out; watched the smoke paint the skies of his cities black as night.

"This is..." Arthur choked, "How did this... This shouldn't..." Tears began forming in his eyes as the horror of the situation hit him. Washington D.C. was up in flames, burning to the ground, along with all other major American cities. American citizens were dying left and right. The American government was being completely destroyed. America was being destroyed...

He quickly looked back to Alfred, who was still coughing and trying to take a breath. His eyes were rimmed with red and glazed over with tears. Fear gripped Alfred more then ever, he had never been this scared in his entire life. No war had ever made him feel like this. The only thing close... The only thing close was what he went through during 9/11. When he was scared out of his mind, on the verge of going insane, watching and feeling his people die, and knowing that it was caused by people who despised what he stood for.

"Al... Alfred..." Arthur stuttered, staring at his younger brother in horror as tears ran down his cheeks.

Alfred kept his eyes on him the best he could, but they always drifted to look in front of him as he began coughing again. The more he coughed the more and more blood he tasted on his tongue until the dark red liquid filled his mouth and ran down his face. His breath was hindered even more by the blood that filled his mouth, and it was completely obvious that his lungs were beginning to fill with the blood themselves. Suddenly his stomach was incapable of holding anything inside itself anymore and Alfred threw his head over the side of the couch, puking up everything. Blood spewed from his mouth. So much blood. The floor was stained red, but Alfred just kept puking up red, dark red liquid.

Arthur rushed to his side and laid him back down as soon as he finished, holding his hands tightly, "Alfred!" he yelled, his voice hoarse and choking up, "You can make it through this!" he shook his head, beads of sweat and tears flying from his face, "I know you can!" the Brit bit his lip to keep himself from crying, "You are strong! You're strong, damn it!"

The American struggled to breath, pulling as much air as he possibly could into his lungs at the same time as spiting the blood from his mouth, "Iggy... I... c-ca- Rahhhh!" He had no time to finish his sentence before his eyes began throbbing and aching to the point where he couldn't keep them open any longer. The grip he held on Arthur's hand skyrocketed as he tried to lessen the pain, if only just a little. It felt as though his eyes had just exploded, and when he opened them again all he could see was bright red staining his vision while the feeling of tears began to soak his cheeks. Though it was far from tears...

Even through the red he could still see Arthur's face, an emotion plastered on it that he hadn't seen since the Revolution. The same face that he held when he had lost Alfred all those years ago. One that showed the fear, no, the horror, of losing someone who was extremely close to you. Tears streamed down his face, unable to stop no matter how hard the Englishman tried. Alfred was dying. Dying, damn it!

"Angleterre!" the door slammed open and a sudden voice shouted through the noise, "Angleterre! Amerique is-!"

As soon as the Frenchman took a few steps into the living room he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes laid sight of the dying country. Why was Alfred here? Why did he have to be here when this was happening? Arthur... He wouldn't... He wouldn't be able to take it. Alfred was dying right in front of Arthur's eyes!

"You're strong!" the Brit screamed, gripping tighter and tighter to Alfred's large hands, "Strong, damn it, Alfred! You can't die! You can't! You are America, damn it! The United States of America! The fucking world power! You can't fucking die!"

Alfred had no strength left to speak, none. There was no way he could talk, no way that he could tell Arthur anything that was going through his mind. He was too weak. No matter how much he wanted to, there was no way he would be able to get out any words. The oxygen in his lungs was being slowly pushed out by the blood that misplaced it, and there was nothing he could do.

"Alfred," Arthur continued to scream, the tears never ceasing, "God damn it, please, Alfred! Please... You... You cannot..." His head slowly fell onto Alfred's hands, and Arthur's tears warmed his skin, "How... This... This isn't happening..." He suddenly looked up again and into the American's glossy eyes, "Alfred, Alfred, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, damn it. I'm so sorry! I... I can't... I didn't... Please, please hear this. I'm so sorry, damn it! I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for my stupid arrogance that kept me from ever telling you... That kept me from telling you how much I love you. How much I still... How much I still... Love you." He bit his lip hard, almost causing blood to flow as he watched Alfred gasp even more for breath, as he slowly was losing all that he had left in him, "I love you. You're my little brother, damn it! How could I ever hate you? Please, Alfred, know that I don't hate you! I don't! I... I just... My God... I... How... How did I... I love you. I wish I hadn't been so... so damn prideful! That I would have tried... to make our relationship... what it used to be... That's... I wanted..."

Alfred gripped his former caretaker's hand slightly tighter in recognition of his words as the blood poured from his eyes and mouth while his skin slowly turned a dark gray where his major cities had once lied. Arthur continued to scream and cry, just wanting to let Alfred know all his feelings that he had kept hidden for so many centuries, "That's all I wanted, damn it! To care for you. To show you how much... I miss you. I love your laugh, your stupid new culture, your carefree nature, your love for everyone around you, your happiness... God damn it, Alfred... I miss you. I love you. I love you. Please... Please don't... You're a hero, damn it... A bloody hero... You can't-"

Alfred's breathing stopped and his hand went limp in Arthur's grip. His heart beat was gone; his life... Gone.

"You... Can't..." Arthur stuttered, trembling, staring in shock and horror at the corpse that laid before him, "Die... You... You're..." His expression suddenly turned from shock to anger and he clenched his teeth tightly together, "You're not dead, damn it! You're not! You can't be! You can't!" he grabbed hold of Alfred's limp shoulders, "Wake up, Alfred! Wake up, damn it!" He gritted his teeth as salty tears rolled down his cheeks and over his lips, "Stop playing with me. Stop it! Alfred, you arsehole! Alfred!"

"Angleterre!" Francis yelled, running up and grabbing Arthur under his arms, "Angleterre, control yourself!"

Arthur screamed as Francis forcefully tried to drag him away from the corpse. He wailed and thrashed out at the Frenchman, trying to hit and shake him off of him, his hands still clinging to Alfred's blood stained shirt tighter and tighter the more Francis tried to move him. Screams echoed off the walls as Arthur cried and yelled at his friend. How could this have happened? There was no way it was true. Alfred couldn't be dead. He couldn't! This was all a dream. It had to be. It... Had to...

Thank you for reading my fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it so far, even if it may have cause some of you to cry. Sorry about that! I seem to like to write angst.

I would like to say now that I am not sure if I will be able to finish this or not. I will try very hard, because I like the idea, but with how my other fics ended up I am a tad bit worried. I'm sure this one will end up completed, but you can never be to cautious. So, if this does just happen to stop being updated. . . Yeah. . . Sorry about that. Though, I have written ahead before I began posting, that always seems to help. So far its going well, so I will really try to update every so often. :) Just wanted to warn you guys in case that does happen! (I hope not though.)

Later on this fic will involve Depressed!Arthur, and Brotherly!France. And even later on(half way) is a secret~

Also, it seems a lot of people are confused on who exactly killed Alfred. . . That wasn't the point of the fic, and I thought I sorta hinted at it without really being blunt about it, but since it is not to focus of the fic you are free to know that my plan was for it to be terrorists and not do anything else with them because they work in secret. The point of the fic is really more to focus on Arthur's reactions to this rather than who killed him. :)