Chapter 5

The next morning Alfred jolted awake at the same time as his alarm rang. He was panting heavily, clutching at his sweaty shirt. "Oh what the heck-" He groaned as a pain shot through his upper body. His vision was still blurred, even worsening now. His heart was aching, and soon the pain spread further into his lungs, quickening his breathing pace.

The American got himself out of the bed and rummaged the desk beside his bed for his glasses. Finding it, Alfred scrambled up to his feet and to the door, before another course of pain hit him again. He fell to his knees; and trembling, he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. Glancing over to the digital clock, the young nation forced himself up and trudged out of the room heavily.

Within a few steps he was already leaning against the wall again, his body shaking even more. He was sure that his heartbeat was out of its normal state by now… because dammit, he might as well choke himself and faint out!

And when the worst wave of pain shot through his whole body, the American screamed loudly in agony.

"Hell… DC…" Were his last words before he lost his consciousness and fell to the ground.

Almost three years later, Arthur Kirkland stood before the mighty entrance of the White House. It was around September now, and the cool breeze of fall was blowing around him. The streets weren't as crowded as he could remember even if it was only 10 in the morning; and there weren't many people walking in and out the entrance.

Tightening his coat around his body, the Briton braced himself as he walked up the steps and passed the guards. He ignored the curious looks from them, and when he still felt their eyes on his back he paused and turned back. "Haven't your boss told you that I'd be coming today? So why are you staring at me like that; am I some sort of thief or murderer or what?" He said in a menacing tone.

"He has." The taller of the guards shrugged easily. "That's why we didn't stop you, else we'd probably have shot you even before you got through us."

Arthur was seriously considering about drawing his own gun and fired a single shot to that guard's head… how dare he say such thing? Gritting his teeth, the Briton gave the annoying guard a death glare and forced himself to turn back before he snapped.

He could hear the guard laughing, and it seemed that his shorter friend stayed silent. Either that or he was trying not to laugh also.

The Englishman paused before the door that led to America's President's office, and then knocked twice.

"Come in," a voice issued from the inside, "the door's not locked."

Arthur pushed open the door and entered the room. It was exactly as he remembered, except that the aura was totally different, and for few missing furniture.

The so-called 'President' of the United States was standing in front of the balcony, staring outside. "Please have a seat, Mr. Kirkland." He offered.

Giving a curt nod, Arthur took off his coat, folded it and held it to his chest. "Good morning, Mr.…?"

"David." The President offered, and took a seat across the Briton. "As you know, it's been our policy not to let anyone in and out during these years… but as for the UK, that we'd shared some… special, relationship; you're an exception to that rule." David leaned back, "now what can I help you with, Mr. Kirkland?"

The older nation took his short time to observe the man sitting in front of him. He had a calm yet mysterious aura lingering around him… but he was convinced that David was the one behind all this mess. "I'm here to meet Alfred, if you would."

"Ah." The President blinked once, "Jones."

"Yes, him. Alfred F. Jones." The brat, he added in his mind.

"I'm afraid he's a bit… busy at the moment, Mr. Kirkland."

At that moment Arthur almost snapped right there and then and he wouldn't pay a single care if his action could cause the third World War. "Busy doing what?" He said through gritted teeth, "his job? I thought he was pretty much jobless right now." He couldn't help but to slip some threatening tone in the end.

David's eyes darkened for a moment, but he stood up nonetheless. "Fine, I'll let you meet him. But remember that each of your actions will be recorded by us." Gesturing for the former pirate to follow after him, David knocked the door at the back of the room. "Jones, come out. You have a visitor."

Soon enough the door opened, revealing a man none other than Alfred himself.

The American, upon seeing the Englishman he'd missed a lot, paused in his track, jaw dropping in the process. "…Arthur?" He muttered disbelievingly.

The Briton took in the young nation's appearances from top to bottom. From the outside he looked just fine, except for some signs of exhaustion etched on his face. But Arthur knew better than to believe the outer looks only. Behind the white sleeved shirt he was wearing, Arthur could see that he'd lost some good amount of weight… or even more.

"Arthur…"

"I need my time now, Mr. David, if you please." The older nation said curtly. He needed to make this meeting as quick and as efficient as possible; and in order to do that he would need the President's absence.

"Just keep in mind that all of your actions are going to be recorded, Mr. Kirkland." David said as he went out of the room and closed it with a click.

"Alfred," the Englishman began but was cut off as his body was crushed by a bear hug from the young nation. "Alfred… hey, please, Al…" He cooed, rubbing soothing circles on the American's back.

"Art-Artie…" Al half-sobbed, tightening his hug, "I-I…"

"Hush, Al. You're a grown up now and a strong nation now; you can't afford to cry…" Lowering himself onto the couch, Arthur pushed his ex-colony away and looked directly to the clouded blue eyes. "Now just calm down, okay? And tell me what happened."

The taller blond stopped sobbing eventually, and wiped his eyes with his white sleeve. "Listen to me, Iggy – Arthur," he began, pausing for a second. In that brief moment the stubborn gleam was back in his eyes, and he pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. Motioning for the Englishman to come nearer to him, he suddenly whacked the side of Arthur's head that he fell to the floor with a loud 'what the hell?'.

He promptly kneeled down to the floor along, slipping the paper – the camera wouldn't catch it but he knew that his ex-mentor's sharp eyes wouldn't miss it. He grinned sheepishly and said, "sorry 'bout that, Iggy," he paused, and added in a quiet murmur, "I had to do that." The look in the Briton's eyes was torn between venomous and understanding, but he hoped that the latter would be more dominant. The last thing he needed was for him to get mad.

"…Fine." He grumbled, straightening his shirt, and then added, "just make sure that when all of this is done, you're still alive. If you're not, I'll make sure that even hell wouldn't stop me from bringing you back and then send you to hell again with my own hands."

The American stared for a second or two, before he broke into the widest grin that stretched from ear to ear. And then he crushed his old mentor in a bear hug, and laughed for the first time after months. It was really awesome, to be able to laugh without any burden on his shoulders. For as long as he was held captive in the White House, he'd only known of the outer world from the news and the words that circulated around the building. But still, while he could believe the news, he couldn't believe the guards – most likely whatever thing they'd said were dictated for them in order to trick the young nation.

But if they thought he was stupid, then they were dead wrong. From the outside he might look like a total idiot most of the times; but Alfred F. Jones was anything but stupid.

America might be chained and held back with David in control, but as the nation itself, his mind was free and nobody would ever tie it down except himself.

He knew, without any doubt, that the cameras recorded everything he'd done ever since Arthur stepped his foot into this room. His vulnerable moment; he knew that they'd make fun of him for it later. Then again, as long as the paper he'd slipped into the ex-pirate's pocket went unnoticed, he would endure any physical and mental torment that would be given to him. Until he'd set his people free again.

Because Arthur'd promised that he would kick Hell off of his throne and drag Alfred back if he didn't survive until it was all over.

"Thanks, Artie, thanks a lot." He patted the older man's back before releasing his embrace. He looked down softly into the patient green eyes, before kissing the Englishman's forehead lightly. Then ushering Arthur out, he took a step back and nodded. "You have to go now; you have loads of things to do."

"Right." The reply was short but assuring. "I'll be sure to finish them off then." With those words, Arthur turned his back and began to pace towards the door. Faintly he heard words of 'good luck', and tried to stifle the proud smile that was making its way to his face. Now was not the time to let his guards down, especially when he had a very pressing matter in hand.

Stepping out of the room, two of the guards walked towards him and were on the verge of stopping him, but he gave them the look when he didn't want anyone to disturb him right now. It had the desired effect, and he smirked inside. Nobody messed with the UK, specially England, when something important depended on him.

David was nowhere around, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want any interrogation, all he wanted was to get out from this wretched place and back to his homeland. His secretary also had the ignorant look on her face; they were the same, and that was good.

"Angleterre, what happened?" Francis immediately asked when the Briton finally showed up in the meeting room. His posture was rigid, as if trying to hold back all his emotions. But his strides were long and powerful; those who didn't know him well enough would've thought that he was feeling smug about something.

Beside him, Matthew fidgeted nervously in his place, and he placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. Eventually he did though, and he braved himself to ask – it was about his twin, after all. "Eh, Arthur, what happened with Alfred?"

Still, he said nothing. After he sat on one of the chairs then he did open his mouth and say something. "Alfred is well, but America is not. And we also wouldn't be, if you don't hear me out now."

Every nation in the room clamped their mouths and sat down also.

Then Arthur spoke up, "the current President of the USA is going to attack us if we don't do something." Series of gasps filled the room, but he gave it no heed as he continued, "with nuclear bombs."

The room switched into eerie silence again and it stayed like that until Francis croaked, "nuclear?"

"You heard me right." He pulled out the crumpled paper and laid it on the table, "to where is still unclear, but I'd say that his targets are nations with global influence."

"Then we'd better stop him, da?" Ivan answered for all the nations.

A/N: So, um... sorry for the delay? I dunno... wrote this chapter separately, so I had no idea if it fits in place... I hope so, though. As usual, if you saw any grammar mistakes, something to ask or maybe something that I left behind or forgot to mention, please tell me :) By the way, I have a poll on my profile... it's a simple poll, for you fans of FMA and Hetalia... along with a -rather insane- crossover of the two animes. Well... if you happen to have any time and are a fans of them, I hope you'd check it out and give a sentence or two about how's it going and such... ah, I should stop now or I'd go rambling...