AN: Here it is. I hope the last part isn't too confusing.

***

I had failed.

That's what it all comes down to now that this is all over. It's the silent thought in everyone's head and only one screaming in mine as they look at you for the last time, before you would be buried in the earth. I stand a distance away from the rest, watching from afar as they mourned. They're crying for youIggy.

Trying to hold the tears back is pointless, even if I know that I don't have the right to be consoled by releasing this despair. I didn't deserve to see you one last time, I didn't deserve to stand beside you and hope that we'll see each other again someday. What have I ever done to prove that I cared for you, that you meant everything to me?

I watched them lowering the casket, knowing that this is our last goodbye. Have I failed you once again for not being there to even mumble a few words of apology or thanks? Iggy, will you understand that this is the least of ways that I can make myself suffer and I'm punishing myself just so I can ever be deserving of your forgiveness?

There is nothing I want more right now than to stop breaking myself apart and to just run up and come crying to you. I want nothing more than to break the coffin's glass which separates us and to take your cold hand in mine. Then I'll let myself believe, just for a moment, that you'll suddenly open your eyes and I'll have another chance. This time, I won't waste a single moment with you; this time, I'll tell you everything I've wanted to say for years.

Then, I'll wake up from that fantasy and the whole world will come crashing down on me again. The only consolation of that is that it can't possibly hurt as much as this, as much as this...abstention. There is gratitude, regret, guilt, devastation in my heart just looking for a way to find comfort in you. Even if I don't grieve them out aloud, will you look at me from up there and let me know somehow that you see how sorry I am and how much I miss you? Even just the smallest sign, the tiniest hint will bring me a little relief.

They're now burying your remains with earth and I can't help but let out a tiny yelp of disapproval. Even if I know that your soul is no longer in that casket, I can't stand seeing anyone try to hurt you. I feel as if I'd do anything to protect you, I'd give up my own life if it meant saving yours. Why, then, did I fail? Maybe I'm not as self-sacrificing as I thought. Maybe I'm not your hero, maybe you're mine.

This realization just makes me want to break down completely, but I can't. I won't. I can't have you see me like that. I didn't fight for independence and your respect just for you to see me crying for you to come back. I didn't go through all those times I bit back my tears of regret just to have the all of them spilling out now.

I didn't realize that they had finished with the burial ceremony already. I didn't hear Francis and Matthew coming to console me, either.

"What do you want?" I ask them before they could even say anything. My attitude surprises me too, Iggy. I kind of sound like you, don't you think. It gets me thinking: If our positions were interchanged, would you cry for me like I am for you now or would you forever stay in that hard shell? Maybe you won't even care. No, that can't be true. You died for us, didn't you? You died for me.

"Alf, maybe we should go now," Mattie whispers. Frankly, I'm surprised. I was expecting an 'are you okay, Alf' or maybe even 'I know you're hurting the most, Alf. Let it all out already'. I was not anticipating him to want to leave so quickly. I look at his eyes for answers but I see that they're bright with tears. How inconsiderate of me! I forgot that I wasn't the only one mourning you.

"All right, Mattie," I just reply and he reaches out to hold my arm. I hear two loud sobs from him and I offer him my shoulder for him to cry on. Francis just holds Mat's shoulder comfortingly.

"We will all get through this, oui?" he tries to sound reassuring but I know that he is more likely looking for the reassurance. I remember how you two always fought but how you always said that you knew each other better than everyone else. He meant a lot to you, you still mean a lot to him. I cannot stop myself from silently declaring that I cared for you more than he ever could and wishing that I meant more to you than he did.

I can almost feel jealousy eating me up but I remind myself that I don't have the right to claim you as my own or even think that I could be so much to you. We walk away from your grave like that, supporting each other but knowing that we'd all fall anyway. What would we do without you? What is your country now that you're gone? They didn't fall like you did, the clock tower they call Big Ben never stopped ticking. The country is never dependent on its embodiment but the embodiment is dependent on his country, how unfair was that?

I can almost hate your people for going on with their lives as if nothing had happened, for not even knowing how much you suffered with them, for them. Almost. They're all I have left of you now. Your country still stands even if you have fallen and I can only hope that I see the bits and pieces of you that I found so endearing in your people.

We're walking farther and farther away from your grave, I feel like I'm leaving a something behind. I realize that you were, no, you are a big part of my life that makes me who I am. I am so empty without you.

I break away from my reverie long enough for me to notice a small boy, sitting alone not so far away. I mumble to Mattie and Francis that I'll catch up with them later. They look at me curiously before nodding and going on their way. Do they think I might to kill myself or something? I'm not pulling of a Romeo. My large pride still wants me to remain strong.

I wait for them to walk a certain distance away before I approached the child. What was a boy doing alone in this lonely place? He is turned away from me, leaning against a tree and breathing deeply. Poor boy, he must be asleep. Worried for his safety, I approach him and I can't help but notice the color of his hair. Blonde, eerily the same shade as yours.

I stop walking when I am only two steps behind his sleeping form. I slowly crouch down, so as not to startle him and I gently put my arm on his small shoulder. I lightly shook him and he woke up. He turned to me and his eyes met mine. They were green, Iggy, just like yours.

My surprise makes me launch myself backwards and my head falls on the soft grass. He looks at me, concerned and I look back at him as if he were a ghost. He looks just like you Iggy, albeit younger. From the light blond hair, messy atop his head, to the somber expression on his face, to the way he looked at me queerly. Just like you. Are you trying to haunt me, Iggy? It's working, just so you know.

"Are you all right, sir?" he says in a soft voice that sounds almost identical to your own. I'm sure of it because your voice is something I've been repeating over and over in my head just to keep myself from forgetting.

"Who are you?" I ask him. I know I shouldn't be asking a child such personal questions but I couldn't help it. You try seeing someone you love come back from the dead and you'll understand what I mean. Er, I don't mean anything when I say that, Iggy. Please don't haunt me.

The boy just looks at me with wide eyes, so cautious and guarded (like you) and shakes his head, "I don't know sir. I don't have a name. Should I help you up?"

He seems a bit too small to help me up so I just shake my head. I sit upright, still trying to get over the shock. "What are you doing here, kid?" I ask him.

"I don't know," he says again, softer this time. After a pause he mentions, "I was here when you and those other people came. I watched your friend's funeral. I hope I wasn't intruding."

"No," I mumble helplessly. "You weren't." Tell me, Iggy, how am I supposed to tell your identical look-alike that he was intruding your funeral? "Anyway, I'm Alfred," I introduce myself. "How long have you been here? Who's been taking care of you?"

"I've been here for a few days, I guess. The fairies take care of me but they won't answer any of my questions," he answers. "

"Fairies?" I ask. He sounded just like you did when you talked about fairies. They seemed like a natural part of life for him too.

"Yes." He looks up at me. "Don't you see them?"

I shake my head, "I don't. Anyway, you shouldn't be out here on your own."

"I'm not on my own, I'm with the fairies," he insists.

"You need a home and a family," I argue, thinking of how you provided those things for me.

"A family?" he wonders aloud.

"Yeah. You know, people who'll take care of you and love you, special people who find you just as special."

"Do you have a family?"

I freeze at the question, thinking of your death once again. "You know that guy, the one we buried?" I ask, looking away from him. I didn't want him to see the pain on my face. He nods and I continue, "When I was your age, he took me in and became my family. He became my big brother and he was my protector."

"Is it nice to have a brother?"

I turn back to him, "Yeah, it's one of the best things in life." You were one of the best things in life, Iggy. I wish I had told you that.

"I wish I had a brother," he whispered softly, interrupting my thoughts. I finally realize what I can do for this boy, what I can do for both of us. This is how I'm going to make it up to you.

"Hey," I stand up, reaching my hand out to him. "Would you like me to be your brother?"

His eyes widen again, "I can be your brother?"

I nod, smiling, "I can't leave you out here alone, can I? I'll take you in and protect you, just like my brother did for me." I will take care of this boy the way you took care of me and even if he could never fill up the hole in my heart you left behind, he could help me stop the bleeding.

"A-all right then," he stutters. The world slows as his small hand clasps mine. I feel the warmth of his grasp and I feel as if I already love him a lot. It makes me wonder: Iggy, did you come back from the dead as a child to comfort me? Is this the other chance I have been asking for?

"Let's go home," I say to him and he nods. As we walk away together I hear his small voice ask, "What was your brother's name?"

"Arthur," I answer him softly. "You look just like him."

"The fairies said something about someone named Arthur," he says knowingly. I stop and turn to look at him. Your fairy friends could've revealed something about this mysterious boy, about your death.

"What do they say?"

"They say, 'Arthur is the once and future King.' What does that mean?" he asks. I suddenly remember the consoling ending of the legend. You once told me that Arthur would someday rise again. Had that part come true as well? Is this small boy really you?

I suddenly feel tears stinging my eyes once more. It's true, then. You've come back to me, Iggy. I bend down and hug you tightly. I'm never letting you go. "It means that your name is Arthur. Would you like me to call you that?"

You nod, "Thank you for giving me a name, big brother." Memories of you and me come pouring into my mind and the waterworks start up again. You squeeze my arm and try to comfort me desperately, "Don't cry big brother. I'm sorry I made you cry." You have no idea, do you Iggy? You have no idea how happy I am.

I try to reassure you by placing my hand on your head, "You didn't do anything wrong, Arthur. I'm sorry you had to see that." I smile and take you into my arms, carrying you the rest of the way.

This is a new start for the both of us, a new life for you. This time, I'm going to take care of you, Iggy. I'll do all the things that you've once done for me. This is how I'm going to make up for my failure and maybe, one day, it'll be my turn to die for you.

***

AN: I couldn't resist making them happy, but there was enough angst there right? I know what you're thinking. How can England be this boy if they'd just buried him? Well, England died about a week before the funeral and the boy said he had been at the place for a few days. There was enough time to reincarnate him, depending on how you look at it. They're countries so the regular human growth cycle doesn't exactly apply to them right. Let's just point a finger at the fairies and make them explain it.

I hope you enjoyed this, even if it was a bit confusing. Curious, though, how many of you actually prefer this ending to the real one?

Thanks once again for reading, everyone. Special thanks for those who encouraged me to make this and suggested the angst. Also to Petit-Sapphire-Jai for helping me come up with the Iggy-baby idea.