I'm holding on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground.

Alfred watched as Alice did her warm-up stretch. She was always so beautiful when she was dancing. She did a lot of ballet, and Alfred was entranced by her grace. As a klutz, he coveted her graceful beauty.

She looked up and saw him in the doorway to her dance room in her mansion. "Oh, look. It's the American idiot," she sneered sarcastically.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "that's me."

"Did you come here to further mock me? Shove it in my face that you are your own nation?" She did not stop stretching, and continued bitterly. "Or did you come to tell me how repulsive my food is? Well, yours is no better, sir."

I'm hearing what you say, but I just can't make a sound.

"You look great," Alfred fumbled his words. "Oh, um, I brought you these." He held out the flowers, which he had bought a few minutes before.

"Daisies," She observed, standing upright and accepting them with a smile. "I didn't think you would remember, after all this time." She walked towards the kitchen to get a vase, Alfred following close behind her.

"Yeah, I remembered." America put on his best hero smile for her, which she replied to by smiling gently and putting water in a vase. "I always remembered that daisies were your favorite."

Alice put the flowers in the vase. "Thank you for that, I appreciate it."

You tell me that you need me, then you go and cut me down, but wait.

Alice couldn't believe that Alfred had had the balls to show up. She was still so angry at him, so hurt and lost and confused as to why he would ever want to leave her… she was a good sister, wasn't she?

Alfred cleared his throat, "Alice, I wanted to talk to you about something—"

"Do you want anything to drink?" she interjected.

"Ah, no thanks."

"You're sure? Tea perhaps? Milk? Water?"

"No, I'm good," he reassured her, leaning on her countertop.

"Alright then. Don't say I didn't offer." She went to lead him to the living room when he spoke up.

"Alice, I'm sorry."

You tell me that you're sorry, didn't think I'd turn around and say—

Alice turned on her heel, incredulous. "What?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Alfred looked shamefully at his feet. "Everything that happened back then… well, I should have talked it out with you first. It didn't have to be the way it was…" He trailed off.

Alice was unable to speak for a minute. Did the bloody fool just apologize? She couldn't believe her ears. Tears formed in her eyes as she spit out, "It's too late for that now."

It's too late to apologize, too late. It's too late to apologize, too late.

Alfred looked up, hurt. "Alice…"

"What's done is done. One shouldn't linger on past issues." Alice wouldn't look him in the eye, couldn't look him in the eye. He couldn't be allowed to see her weak, to see her still love him.

I'd take another chance, take the fall, take a shot for you. I need you like a heart needs a beat, but that's nothing new.

"Alice, please," Alfred closed the distance between them and reached out to comfort her.

"Don't you bloody touch me you git!" she shouted, not meaning to be so spiteful.

Alfred saw the tears in her eyes before she turned away from him, and hugged her around the shoulders from behind.

"I'm so sorry…" His voice hitched on the third word, and Alice could hear that he was close to tears. Good. The ass deserved it. But deep inside, it pained her that he had the same scars that she did, the same wounds that refused to heal.

I loved you with a fire red, now it's turning blue.

"Just let go of me," Alice murmured, unable to stop sobbing.

"Not till you forgive me. Or you stop crying."

"You bloody idiot, I'll never forgive you for what you did."

Alfred tightened his grip. "Then please don't cry."

"I'm not crying!" she proclaimed, though she sobbed mid-sentence. They both went on as though she hadn't said anything.

"Alice, dear…" He turned her around and held her close to his chest. "Please don't ever, ever cry for me."

And you say "sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you.

"You idiot, you fool…" she cried on his jacket. That stupid jacket he had always been so attached to, with the fur lining and the big 50 on the back.

"I'm begging you to forgive me; I can't live knowing that you hate me for what I did."

But I'm afraid it's too late to apologize, too late. It's too late to apologize, too late.

"I can't… I still have the scars where your people made me bleed… I can never forgive you."

And America, the great hero of the free world, began to cry into Alice's hair.

"You're crying? What makes you think you have the right—?"

"I love you, Alice Kirkland. I've tried to live without you, but both me and my people need you."

Alice froze in wonder. "It's 'I and my people'," was all she could say.

"I don't care." Alfred spouted bitterly, holding her out at arm's length to look her in the eye. "I don't care that my English isn't perfect, I don't care that I'm breaking down and crying in front of you. I don't care that I came here and made a complete ass of myself. I only care about you, Alice, and having you hate me is not an option in my life."

Alice smiled through her tears. "Alfred, I don't hate you. I'm very angry with you, yes, but hate? No, not at all."

It's too late to apologize, too late. It's too late to apologize, too late. It's too late to apologize, too late. It's too late to apologize, too late.

"I can't forgive you for what you did, Alfred, but…" She took his large hand in her small dainty ones. "…I can move on."

Alfred laughed once and grinned. "Really?"

Alice nodded, and Alfred pulled her close again. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her whole face, and saved her lips for last. She smiled when their lips parted and let herself laugh softly.

I'm holding on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground.