He saw his life flashing before his eyes in that moment. Though short, it was full of violence. Every war he had ever taken part in—from the struggle to break free from his father, to the conflicted battle within himself, to the massive frays between everyone he knew—he saw everything.

But while he was shown the wars, the economic crashes, the natural disasters; what he truly saw was himself. He saw himself making poor decisions: being selfish when others needed him, helping others when he himself was in peril, butting into business that was not his own. He saw himself making the same mistakes multiple times… and this time, it appeared, he had done so with nearly fatal results.

The moment he made that revelation, Alfred was out cold.

xXx

Arthur coughed and covered his nose and mouth. He squinted into the dusty, polluted air, searching for… well, anything… but found this attempt to be in vain.

Struggling to his feet, the Englishman staggered in no particular direction, ignoring the dull ache in his core, until his feet collided with something. Arthur knelt down and felt the object. It proved to be a person. Feeling around the head and face, feeling the familiar stubble and long hair, he realized it was Francis. Without thinking, Arthur strained to scoop Francis up, heaved him over his shoulder and carried on.

A dark shape became vaguely visible ahead of him. Arthur found that it was what was left of the tent. He crawled inside and found it a bit easier to see and breathe. Laying Francis down on the floor, Arthur looked around to assess the situation.

Berwald appeared to be the only other conscious one there, and was fussing over Tino. Yao and Roderich both lay on the ground, thin and heavily injured. Berwald glanced up at Arthur, gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement, and continued to attend to Tino's injuries.

Suddenly, Kiku entered, dragging Elizabeta behind him. Without a word, he left her there and returned outside. Figuring he should follow the Japanese man's example, Arthur gently kissed Francis and also left.

"Japan!" he called, coughing, "where are you?"

Hearing an incoherent response, muffled by all the matter in the air, Arthur took off in the direction of Kiku's voice. He found him standing over three bodies—like the rest, it was impossible to tell whether or not they were alive.

"I think Norway went back for Germany," Kiku explained softly as Arthur approached him, "and Itary rushed to see them. I guess they didn't make it very far before the exprosion."

Without pausing to let Arthur reply, Kiku slid his hands under Feliciano's arms and hoisted the Italian onto his back. Arthur did the same to the Norwegian, then grabbed Ludwig's arms so as to drag him.

They reentered the tent to find Berwald examining the others, now that Tino appeared to be in stable condition.

"China's got a bunch of broken bones, but he's alive," the Swede reported. "Did CPR on France, he's okay. Austria's not breathing. Dunno about Hungary."

Without warning, Feliciano's eyes flew open and his entire body spasmed, knocking him off Kiku.

"Ludwig!" he cried, crawling over to where Arthur had left the German. "Oh, Germania, mi dispiace tanto…"

Berwald shoved the blubbering Italian out of the way and began to examine Ludwig. When Feliciano tried to throw himself on top of the German, Kiku gently pulled him away.

"AED, now," Berwald commanded. Arthur immediately grabbed the red case and handed it to the Swede. Berwald opened it, found it to be broken, and cursed.

While Berwald frantically began CPR and Feliciano screamed hysterically, Arthur checked on the unconscious Scandinavian nation he had brought in.

"Norway seems all right," he announced, finding a fairly stable pulse. After a pause, he added, "I believe I'll go find Iceland now."

Leaving the tent, Arthur searched the area until he found the island, unconscious, with a badly distorted leg. The Brit simply dragged him back to the tent, ready to help others recover.

xXx

Ivan awoke to the sensation of coughing.

It was a horrible, burning sensation; like there was some sort of animal in him, scratching at his insides; and the only way he could get it out was by hacking it up his throat and out his mouth.

Forcing his heavy eyelids open, Ivan saw red. After a moment's thought, he realized it was blood. Blood that he had just coughed up.

Looking around the room, the Russian forced his dazed brain to grasp at understanding what was going on. He saw Raivis, Toris, Eduard, Natalia… Everyone he knew, it seemed, laying on the floor unconscious. Glancing behind him, Ivan saw Matthew was also awake. The two briefly made eye contact—no emotion or communication; just blank, tired stares—until the Canadian turned and crawled toward his brother.

Ivan now became aware of the unbearable pain that seemed to course throughout his body. He opened his mouth to cry out in agony, but not a sound was uttered. The room spun, Ivan's vision became very blurred, and before he knew it he was unconscious once more.

xXx

Al. Wake up.

No, Alfred thought, just let me die here.

Al… Please…

Why can't you just leave me alone, whoever you are?

… oh, God, Al… Please wake up…

Alfred awoke, but did not open his eyes. They hurt so badly, especially the right one… He became aware of his brother shaking him, begging him to be all right.

He tried to reassure Matthew, to let him know he was alive, but all that came out was a mangled groan. Luckily, this was enough to get the point across.

"oh, thank goodness," Matthew breathed, "y-you're alive…"

Alfred did not acknowledge his brother further, as all his attention had to be focused on trying to breathe. His entire body was in such indescribable pain. Even the slightest instinctual movement caused new agony; and a task as simple as breathing was nearly impossible.

Mathew suddenly coughed violently, much like Ivan just had, then eyed his brother over so as to judge the degree of his injuries. The American's glasses were shattered, and it appeared that some shards of glass had gotten in his eyes. The right eye was in especially gruesome shape.

"al…" Matthew began to sob, "oh, god, what have you done…"

Hearing all of this, Alfred tried once again to respond—to apologize, to comfort, anything—but all that manage to escape his lips was a quiet cross between a croak and a moan.

Matthew only began to cry harder.

Alfred took a deep, painful breath. Determined to reach his goal, he decided to force himself to that point by means of sheer willpower.

"M-Matt," he gasped, "… 's okay. We… we're gonna be okay."

Canada just stared at him with wide, teary eyes.

Ignoring the searing pain, America turned his head to face the enormous nation across the room from him, still not opening his eyes.

"H-hey, Russia…"

Alfred heard Ivan coughing for about thirty seconds straight as he awoke once more.

"Russia," he repeated, "n-no hard feelings, right?"

After a moment, the Russian gave a slight nod. "D-da. Dis has gone too far," he agreed.

"… Cool," America said softly.

Canada looked up. The ceiling was now a pile of rubble, and he could clearly see the sky.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear voices, letting him know his allies were alive.

Rain began to fall onto his face. It felt nice.

Somehow, he felt America was right. Eventually, one way or another, everything was going to be okay.

xXx

~ Fin ~ Ende ~ Fine ~ конец ~ Ioppu ~ änden ~ 終わり~ Endir ~ Slutt ~ 结束~ Final ~ lõpp ~ Pabaiga ~ Beigas ~ End ~

Thank you all for your support! I couldn't have done this without you!

This was my first-ever fanfiction, and I now see that I bit off more than I could chew. Towards the end, I honestly wanted to quit, and if I didn't have all of you counting on me, I would have. I'm actually just glad to put this behind me so that I can move on to greater, shorter, lighter, and fluffier things. But thank you all, so very much.