Title: American Oil Catastrophe

Rating: T

Word Count: 3810

Warnings: Cursing, Explict scenes dipicting illness

Disclaimer: Hetalia and all of its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. The B.P. Oil Spill was not my fault. The idea is mine though. Be nice to it.

Author's Note: Hello to you all! I'm alive! I know I've been gone for a really long time (a few years), but I'm back and ready to roll! For those of you who are reading We're What, I would like to apologize for the incredibly long wait. To make it up to you, I will be posting the next chapter before Saturday. ^^ Also, I've got a bunch of things ready for you guys, so be prepared for a lot of updating. ^^ This is my first Hetalia fic. I had been reaing a lot of stories with Countries and how they react to disasters, so I decided to do my own. This one is about the B.P. Oil Spill. I hope you enjoy!

April 20, 2010
9:40 p.m.
America's House

Crickets sounded softly outside as the embodiment of the United States of America sat in front of his fireplace, reading his book in the glow of the fire. Tony sat on floor close by with his laptop in his lap. America, glancing at the clock on the mantle place, jumped gently when he noticed the time. 9:42.

"Holy crap. I've been reading for three hours. That's new," America stated to his alien friend. Tony looked up from his laptop to his unusually quiet friend.

"Is there a reason you're not playing video games or eating a pile of hamburgers tonight?" Tony asked in curiosity. "You don't usually spend time reading." America just shrugged as he got out of his chair and stretched the kinks out of his back.

"Not really. Just thought a change would be nice. And, Iggy gave me the book a while ago. It caught my eye and I thought I'd give it a chance." He paused and glanced at Tony. "Dude, I swear that if you tell anyone that I like to read like Iggy does, I will kill you," he teased. Tony tilted his head slightly as if in thought.

"Why would I do something like that? The last thing I want is for you to have anything in common with that limey bastard," Tony replied. America laughed his loud hero laugh before grabbing his book and glancing at the clock one last time. It read 9:45, and that's when he felt it. A searing pain in his torso, it felt as if he was set on fire and being blown to bits. Gripping the front of his shirt, America collapsed onto the ground with a painful gasp.

"ALFRED!" screamed Tony. The little grey alien jumped up—causing his laptop to drop to the ground with a huge CRACK!—rushing over to his human friend's side.

America was panting hard and clutching his ribs in pain. Something felt as if it was burning him from the inside out. He couldn't stand it. So he did the only thing he could think of. He screamed.

"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO MUCH! PLEASE!" he screamed to no one in particular. Tony began to panic. He didn't know how to help his friend. Tears prickled at Tony's eyes as America screamed louder.

America hadn't felt anything so painful since the 9/11 terrorist attacks. He cried and screamed for the pain to stop when it seemed to reach a whole new level. But, just as quickly as the pain had come, it disappeared. Well, not completely. There was still a dull throbbing in his chest cavity and he still felt as if he were on fire.

"Alfred?" Tony asked quietly while wiping the tears from his huge eyes. America glanced painfully at him.

"Dude, what just happened?" he asked. Tony shook his head.

"I don't know. But, we should probably get you into bed just in case it happens again," Tony said softly. As much as he hated to admit it, Tony had grown attached to this particular human, and this episode really had him worried. America nodded a bit.

"Yeah, sounds good, Bro," he said quietly.

Cringing softly, America stood back up on his feet while Tony kept him steady. They made their way to America's bedroom, neither of them aware of the raging fire just off the coast of Louisiana.

~~~~~~Hetalia~~~~~~

April 22, 2010
Two days later
Sometime in the afternoon.
World Conference Building on Louisiana Coastline

"Dudes! I have the most perfect idea for getting rid of global warming!" America said loudly at the head of the conference table. All of the other representatives of the world had chosen America's Louisiana house for this meeting since the weather was a lot nicer there than at their places.

"America, I swear to God that if you're going to say that we should push it somewhere else or make a giant hero to fight against it, I will personally tie you to an anchor and throw you in the bloody ocean," growled England.

America just laughed at his former caretaker, not really paying attention to him. He placed at hand over his chest, rubbed softly, and coughed. He was still in pain from that episode two days ago, and to top it all off, he started to get a nasty cough that showed no signs of letting up.

"I say zat you two should relieve your sexual tension and let ze rest of us continue with ze meeting," smiled France. England wrapped his hands around France's neck and began to choke him.

"How many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing between me and America! For Christ's sake, I raised the bloody child!" he screamed. France tried to pry England's hands away from his neck.

"And how many times do I 'ave to tell you zat I know you're just deluding yourself before you realize zat I'm right?" he said relatively calmly for someone currently getting choked. Across the room, Germany sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Vell, before zis gets out of hand, I move for a vote," Germany stated officially.

"Ve~! Germany, are we voting on what to have for lunch? I vote for Pasta!" exclaimed the ever eager Northern Italian on his right.

"It is not lunch time! Vould you stop zinking about food for a vhile!" yelled Germany. Italy shook in fear and began waving his ever present white flag rapidly in front of his face.

"I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" Italy cried, still waving his flag.

"Hey, you-a stupid Macho Potato! Stay the hell away from-a my fratello!" fumed Romano. Spain put his arm around the Southern Italian's shoulders.

"Calmate, mi peqeño tomate. You're going to give yourself a heart attack." Romano growled and punched Spain in the face.

"Don't tell me what to do, you tomato bastard!" he screamed.

Unfortunately, this set off an entire argument throughout the entire conference hall. America just stood there and laughed obnoxiously for a few minutes before deciding to continue with the meeting itself.

"Yo Dudes! Let's get back to business!" America yelled over the chaos. Nobody paid attention to him. This irked him. He was the Hero! How could they ignore him? So he started yelling louder.

"Guys! Listen up! Let's get back together and ta—" America cut himself off with a loud cough. His lungs were feeling as if they were being inflated and he couldn't breathe. He went into a major coughing fit and the feeling got worst. He felt as if he were drowning in something. This got the attention of most of the countries and they settled down a bit.

"America? Are you alright?" England asked with a worried glance. America looked at him when his coughing subsided and opened his mouth to reply. But instead of words, a thick black substance flowed out of his throat and his eyes rolled back into his head. Unable to remain on his feet, the choking nation collapsed onto the floor. Hungary screamed when he hit the ground and all the countries were paralyzed in shock.

"America?" England whispered. He got no response.

"America, come on. If this is some kind of joke, it's not very funny," he chuckled nervously. When America still didn't respond, fear flooded his mind and he rushed forward—clutching his son close to his chest and soaking his clothes in the strange substance.

"America! Come on! This isn't bloody funny! Wake up, damn it! What's wrong?! What in bloody hell is happening?!" England cried out fearfully. The only response he received was more of the black substance rushing out of America's mouth, further soaking both of their clothing. He screamed out in panic for America to talk to him, fearing for his life and crying, frustrated at his helplessness. Every nation watched the scene play out in a sort of morbid fascination. France was the first one to come to his senses—with tears in his eyes—and realize that they needed to get America to the nearest hospital and fast.

France stood up and rushed out of the room in order to get an ambulance. Whatever happened to his little Amerique was bad, and they had no clue how to help. As he ran farther from the conference hall and England's screams grew fainter, France allowed a few tears to escape his eyes.

"Please be okay, Alfred. We can't lose you," he whispered. He reached a payphone and called 911. They promised to come as quickly as possible. Feeling a little better about the situation, he sighed and quickly went back to the conference room.

Inside the room, things had calmed down a bit. Germany had pulled England away from America and was restraining him in one of the many chairs in the room. Someone had laid America on the conference table and cleaned up a bit of the black mess. Knowing there was nothing he could do for the suffering States, France walked over to the hysterical England and flustered Germany.

"I'll take it from 'ere, mon amie," he said smoothly. Germany looked at him skeptically, but left none the less. France knelt in front of the normally calm island nation, who had chosen to cry into his hands instead of scream.

"Angleterre. Calm down. Amerique is going to be fine. An ambulance is on its way," he consoled. It a fit of grieve stricken hysteria, England flung himself into France's arms.

"What happened to him? He was fine this morning. What's happening to my little boy?" England cried. France didn't have the answers to any of his questions. Instead, he just sat there and held the sobbing nation comfortingly.

The paramedics came and carefully took America to the nearest hospital for evaluation and treatment. England continued to sob into France's chest and Germany was trying to keep some semblance of order while comforting a crying Italy. China and Japan watched the fuss from a corner in the room, not wanting to get too involved.

"What do you think happened, aru?" inquired China. Japan shook his head.

"I do not know, but I do not rike it one bit," he replied. The embodiment of Japan was concerned for the young-nation's health. They had become pretty close friends over the years, despite all their differences and problems. Japan sighed. All he wanted was to help his friend by easing his pain. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he turned away and clicked on a near-by television (one of many in the room) to see if they could get any answers from the local news. Unfortunately, the news they received was more disturbing than anything anyone could have imagined.

"Dear Kami-sama," Japan whispered. China covered his mouth to stop himself from throwing up. He couldn't believe something like this could happen to one of them. Just the thought of this happening to him was enough to make him cringe.

Japan ran to Germany and reported what he had just learned. Germany looked at him with surprise and disgust all over his face.

"Are you sure zat's right?" he asked, praying that his ally wasn't telling the truth.

"I'm sorry, Germany-san, but it is true," Japan stated. Germany sighed and turned to the rest of the nations. It's time they all understand what had happened to their fellow nation.

"Everyone settle down! It seems zat ze cause of America's illness has been discovered!" he said in a strictly professional voice. Canada, America's twin brother, looked at Germany with puffy, red eyes.

"What's wrong with my brother?" he said in his normal, quiet voice. Having that undeniable bond that twins share, he could feel that his brother was in a lot of pain and was afraid of what the cause could be.

"Two days ago, an oil rig off ze coast of Louisiana had a gas leak und exploded. Eleven vorkers vere killed und ze rig has been burning ever since. Today, zey discovered zat ze explosion caused a leak to appear in one of ze oil pipes. Zousands of gallons of oil have been filling ze gulf every minute for ze past few days. Zey have no idea how to stop ze leak und it is polluting ze Gulf und ze shoreline. It vould seem zat America is drowning in ze oil."

The conference room grew silent except for the cries of family and close friends. Italy, being unusually quiet, turned to Germany.

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked hopefully. Germany looked back at him sadly.

"I don't know."

On that depressing note, the nations left the conference room and went back to their respective hotel rooms. England, France, and Canada went to the hospital to await the diagnostic of their family member.

~~~~~~Hetalia~~~~~~

April 25, 2010
3:25 p.m.
Louisiana Hospital

"Ugh. Where am I?" America whispered. His head was killing him and he felt a tremendous weight on his chest. Looking around, he realized that he was in a hospital room. And that Canada and France were sleeping on the small guest bed in the corner. And that England was holding his hand while kneeling next to his bed—fast asleep.

America smiled at his family before going into a coughing fit that left him light-headed and in pain. The coughs must have been pretty loud, because the next thing he knew, England was looking up at him with a mixture of happiness, worry, and apprehension.

"Oh thank god. You're awake. We thought you'd never wake up," England told him. America smiled.

"I'm the hero! Of course I'm alright!" he replied in his "total hero voice." Unfortunately, his lungs didn't appreciate the extra work and rebelled by throwing him into another string of gut-wrenching coughs.

England quickly leaned his brother over the edge of the bed in case he had to throw up and rubbed small circles into his back. After a few minutes of this, the coughs died down and America took several deep breathes before lying on his back once more. But as soon as he did, a blond blur rushed toward him and latched onto his waist.

"America! Sweet Maple you're okay! How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Do you need anything?"

America looked down at his twin with a smile. Canada had woken up when he heard his brother coughing. Tears were prickling his eyes as he patted the Canadian boy on the head.

"Hey bro! Slow down there! I just woke up," he said with a smile. Canada looked up at him and smiled tearfully.

"Heh heh. Sorry about that," he replied. Canada detached himself from his brother and felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Amerique. It's about time you woke up. You 'ad us all very worried about you. Even Angleterre was crying when you collapsed in ze conference room," France said with a small smile. England glared at France.

"That is untrue! I did no such thing!" he yelled. France smirked.

"You're right. You weren't crying. You were bawling your eyes out." The North American twins and France all laughed while England could do nothing but stutter in embarrassment.

America wiped the joyful tears from his eyes. It had been a while since he had spent any sort of quality time with his family and it felt good to be with them, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. He smiled at all of them.

"Hey dudes, thanks for being here for me," he said happily. England smiled lovingly at him.

"It was no trouble, really. It's not like we were going to leave you all alone." Canada and France nodded in agreement.

America smiled happily. "Sweet! So, um...where are we?" he asked, finally noticing that he wasn't at home or at the hotel. England raised one of his fuzzy eyebrows and looked at America nervously.

"You really don't remember anything from the past few days?" he asked in concern for any amnesia America might have acquired. America got a thoughtful look on his face before answering.

"I remember getting the really bad pain in my chest a few days before the meeting. It kept getting worse 'til then. After that, I remember being my normal heroic self, going into a coughing fit at the meeting, and..." he trailed off.

"And?" pressed Canada. America looked at his brother with worry in his sky blue eyes that weren't obscured by his glasses, Texas.

"Nothing. I don't remember anything after that," he said with a rising panic. "What happened to me?"

France glanced at England. His eyes were filling with little tears and he looked as if he were going to break down crying. Knowing that the former empire wouldn't be able to tell the American anything without breaking down, France took it upon himself to break the news to America.

"Amerique, pleaze calm down. It's not az bad az you would tink," France said gently. England, with tears running down his cheeks, turned to France before he could continue on.

"Not that bad? It's terrible! America is hurt because of me!" England cried out, burying his face in his hands. "It's all my fault."

France frowned sadly and sat next to England. He held the hysterical man and allowed him to cry on his shoulder.

America was shocked at Britain's outburst. He turned to Canada, hoping for a little clarifying as to what was going on. Canada sighed.

"One of the oil rigs owned by BP blew up four days ago. The oil is escaping too quickly into the Gulf of Mexico for any clean up to really make a difference. It's covering up everything and nobody knows what happened. The investigation is already underway." Canada glanced at his brother to see how he was taking the news.

America's blue eyes were wide open and his jaw was slack. He looked completely and utterly shocked.

"The Gulf...is...polluted?" he asked quietly. Canada nodded.

"I'm really sorry, Al," he replied. A short sob was heard by the twins, causing them to turn to their former care-taker.

"My god, Alfred. I'm so, so sorry. None of this would have happened if I were more bloody careful," England sobbed as he looked at his son. America blinked for a few seconds before flashing one of his overly energetic grins.

"Dude, it's no problem. I'll just clean up the gulf and everything will be cool. Granted, the media's gonna have a field day with this, but I'm sure it'll work out."

England didn't listen to him and continued to cry. He hid his face in the bed sheets in an attempt to calm down. It didn't work.

America frowned at his "dad." He last time he was this emotional was the Revolutionary War. He didn't know how to console the former empire then and he still didn't know how to now. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He tapped England on the shoulder, and when he looked up, the former colony did what he couldn't do all those centuries ago—he hugged him.

England's eyes widen in slight shock before he settled on clinging to America's shirt for dear life. America smiled and whispered in his ear.

"You know, it really is okay. This isn't the worst thing that's happened to me and it won't be the last. We didn't see this one coming. All we can do now is clean up and make sure it never happens again," he said soothingly. England sniffled a bit before chuckling and pulling back enough to look at America's face.

"When did you get so mature?" he asked with a smile. America laughed.

"I don't know. I think your no-room-for-any-sort-of-fun attitude is starting to rub off on me," he replied with a laugh. All of the countries present laughed at England's expense while he pouted and glared at his eccentric son.

"And what in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!?" England yelled.

"I do believe 'e iz zaying zat you are boring, mon amie," France answered. The twins laughed harder at this and England smacked France on the side of the head.

"I am not boring!" he yelled. Nobody answered him this time because they were all laughing too hard. By the time they calmed down, the three nations were still in stitches and had to spend a few minutes catching their breath. Canada was the first to speak.

"Heheh. Anyways, the point we're trying to get at is that even though this was really unfortunate, we're still here for you, Al," he said happily. England smiled and nodded in affirmation to this statement. France, who had somehow found and rose and was now holding it dramatically, grinned at the American teen.

"And we'll do everyzing we can to get you back on your feet and to 'elp with ze clean up," France added.

America frowned at that tidbit of information. He shook his head and looked all three of them in the eye with a determined look.

"No. This oil spill was my fault. I'll be the one to clean up. I don't need any help," he told them. England was about to protest and remind him that is wasn't his fault when America placed a finger over his lips.

"I said 'no.' I don't want any of y'all getting involved." He smiled as his southern accent slightly found its way into his little speech. "Besides, you're always telling me to 'lie in the bed I've made.' So, that's what I'm gonna do."

France and Canada looked at him in shock. England just looked proud. Pulling the finger away from his lips, England hugged his son close to him.

"I'm so proud of you, Alfred. Remember that," he whispered into his ear. America smiled and hugged him back. When they pulled apart, England and France stood up.

"We're going to tell ze doctor zat you're up. Matthieu, do you mind staying with your brother?" France asked. Canada smiled and shook his head.

"Not at all."

England nodded.

"Jolly good. We'll see you both in a bit." With that said, the two elder nations left the two smiling twins alone in the room.

"Do you tink zat Amerique will be okay wizout our 'elp?" France asked as they walked down the hall. England smiled and looked out the window to see the beauty of the Louisiana State.

"Alfred is a big boy. He's strong and stubborn and a bit clueless, but I know he'll be fine," England said happily. The two European nations smiled and continued on to find the doctor—completely hopeful for the future of the United States of America. But most importantly, they were hopeful of the future of their young Alfred.

A/N: DONE! I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll be posting a lot more stories, so be on the look out. And again, for those of you reading We're What, the next chapter will be up by Saturday. Please read and review! I always love to hear what you think! (flames = laughter, compliments = hugs/love, constructive critisism = cookies)

~Amethyst Out!