Farewell -USxUK-

"A-America is that you? What are you doing here?" An old woman asked in surprise. Alfred F. Jones was standing in the doorway of the front door of Arthur Kirkland's house, wearing a neat beige suit with a small bouquet of flowers.

"'Sup Bridget, I came as soon as I heard that Britain wasn't well." America said loudly, pushing past Bridget. America had heard from Francis that Arthur was ill with somethin'.

"Ohonhonhon. Did you not know~? Briton has not been that well for a while~ oui, some kind of odd illness or something or over."

And Alfred, as the hero of them all, had decided that he was gonna march in there and look after Arthur whether he liked it or not!

"The last time I saw you America was when you left after you got your independence." Bridget said in awe, looking at Alfred up and down with a smile on her face. She could still remember those times when Alfred was such a small child. Arthur would always dote on him 24/7, Bridget thought to herself.

"And you Bridget haven't changed at all ma'am! Does England do all the cooking still? Those petrified couch stuffings he usually make have suddenly improved in taste!" Alfred joked. Bridget's smile fell suddenly and sighed heavily.

"Mr. Britain hasn't been well enough to cook at all. He's been lying in his bed coughing and throwing up constantly for a few weeks now. He says that he's in pain all the time, but if we go to tend to him, he'll dismiss us immediately; he believes that he would be a bother to us…" Bridget sighed heavily. They started walking up the stairs of the house towards Arthur's room.

"D-Dude, there's no way he could be that bad! That's totally trippin' if he can't cook his crappy food!" Alfred said in shock. Bridget shook her head.

"I'm worried for him America. The doctor won't tell us what's wrong with him. He and Mr. Britain are the only ones who know what's wrong with him." Bridget said exasperatedly.

"How did it all start off?" Alfred asked curiously.

"It all started off with a headache. Mr. Britain claimed that it was because of all the arguing between him and the Allies. But then the headache wouldn't go away. But England just… didn't acknowledge it. He carried on with his work like normal…" Bridget said.

"Then what?" Alfred asked, even more curious than before.

"Well, his headache got worse naturally, he kept complaining about it to me when he was working. But one day, as England was doing some baking and making his usual scones… he collapsed."

"Say what?!" Alfred said in horror. Bridget sighed.

"He just collapsed. I heard something crash when I was making his bed, and I thought it was just the oven door opening on him. But when I went to check on him, Mr. England was unconscious and on the floor. Obviously the whole household panicked. But he woke up the next day as if nothing ever happened. That was the day the doctor came here." She said. They had reached Arthur's door already. Bridget knocked on the door a few times, and then opened it slightly.

"Sir, you have a guest." She said softly. She stepped aside and Alfred walked through hesitantly. Arthur was lying in his bed, wearing a light green shirt. His eyes were half closed; his skin had a grey tinge to it as well. And had his hair gone duller from normal? Arthur looked at America, and his eyes widened just a little bit.

"A…Ameri…ca?" Arthur asked weakly. Alfred walked towards him, smiling widely.

"Yeah dude, who else here is called America anyway?" Alfred laughed. Arthur glared at him meekly.

"Sh…shut up… you're making my head hurt…" He groaned, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. Alfred frowned at Arthur, grabbed the closest chair in the room and pulled it up right next to his bed.

"I err, got you some flowers." Alfred said, handing the flowers to Arthur. Arthur's cheeks went a dull pink colour and he smiled as he sat up in his bed.

"Thank you America… these mean a lot to me." He murmured, taking in the sweet scent.

"Yup! They should help you recover so that you can attend the meetings!" Alfred said excitedly. Arthur frowned slightly and gave Alfred a pitying look.

"America, I won't be… able to attend the meetings anymore…" Arthur grumbled, putting the flowers next to him. Alfred frowned.

"C'mon Britain, what are you talkin' about? You're gonna be fine man!" He exclaimed, a determined look on his face. Arthur sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He knew that Alfred wouldn't believe him if he told him, who would? But… it was probably the best thing to do.

"America, listen to me carefully. I don't want any interruptions from you either." Arthur added darkly when Alfred looked as if he was about in interrupt. Alfred pouted a little, but nodded in agreement.

"I'm sick, but it's not something I can recover from… It's long term, and it can't work its way out of the system… In short America, I'm… dying." Arthur added slowly. Alfred's eyes widened in horror, and he automatically started shaking his head. He didn't want to believe it, he wouldn't!

"Britain, this isn't funny ya know! This is a cruel joke to play on me dude!" He cried out angrily. That was it; it must be some kind of prank Arthur and the rest of the Allies were playing on him. It had to be. Arthur couldn't die; he's Great Britain, the United Kingdom.

"I know you don't want to believe it-" Arthur sighed.

"What the hell man?! Why would you lie about something like this?!" Alfred yelled, eyes blazing.

"Do I look like I'm joking?! Do you I'm going to say-?!" Arthur coughed violently. Alfred watched as he carried on coughing and heaving. Suddenly, Alfred didn't know what to do. He was too busy looking at the man who took him in when he was a baby, his older brother. He used to be powerful, but now he was so… meek. Arthur looked at him, his face suddenly pale.

"G-get me a-a b-bloody tissue or something!" Arthur choked, his eyes watering. Alfred came back down to earth, rummaged through his pockets and quickly handed Arthur a tissue. Arthur coughed into the tissue violently, his face going grey. After a few minutes, Arthur removed the tissue from his mouth. And, to Alfred's horror, the tissue was covered in blood.

"Do you see now, America? I'm not going to… last any… longer…" Arthur murmured, lying back on his bed. He looked up to Alfred, whose eyes were now suddenly glistening with tears, looking as if he was being torn apart. The sight of Alfred being like that broke Arthur's heart. Arthur hand reached out towards Alfred and placed his hand on top of Alfred's.

"I'm sorry… I don't want to… leave…" Arthur choked, his eyes watering. Alfred pulled him into a tight embrace, crying silently.

"T-Then fight what you've g-got and stay man… I don't… I don't want to be alone…" Alfred whispered. Arthur sighed heavily, and was rested down gently by Alfred. He was tired, so very tired… but he was just trying to stay awake for a little bit longer…

"America, when I die… everything I own… this house… my country… I want you to take good care of it for me." Arthur said softly, reaching out towards Alfred's hand again. Alfred clung onto Arthur's hand tightly as emerald green eyes met with sapphire blue eyes.

"Britain… please stop talkin' like that. Y-you're gonna be just fine. I'm gonna l-look after you until you get better! I'll make you whatever you want, even those nasty tasting scones." Alfred added, hoping that the usual Arthur would lash out at him for insulting his scones. But Arthur just smiled meekly.

"Really now… that would have been… nice…" Arthur sighed, his eyelids drooping. Alfred felt a sudden rise of panic in his chest. This was it; he was starting to slip away.

"England, I swear if you die, I'm gonna follow you to heaven and kill you with some kind of awesome superhero!" Alfred exclaimed, tightening his grip on Arthur's hand. Arthur laughed weakly.

"America… I know that we… have our bad times… but I'll always treasure," He said softly, placing his hand on Alfred's cheek, "…those times when you were… so excited to see me… I felt so alive when I saw you." Alfred didn't even bother to stop the tears that were running down his cheeks. He remembered those times when he was alone, when he didn't meet Tony or anyone else, and that Arthur would always see him. He needed Arthur by his side then.

He still needed him now.

"England please… you gotta pull through dude… w-who else am I gonna argue with over nothing? Please… don't leave me brother…" Alfred wept. Arthur looked at him sadly. He felt like a bad brother, leaving Alfred in his sorry mess, and smiled at Alfred warmly. But his chest was really hurting him now, everything was beginning to blur. He was beginning to feel cold, very cold…

"America… y-you know what… you were the… greatest little brother that I could have… asked… for…" Arthur's voice trailed away. His eyes glossed over and lost their usual shine. His hand almost slid off of Alfred's cheek. But Alfred clasped his hand tightly against his cheek, tears tumbling down from his eyes carelessly.

"England, stop messin' around… y-you're not dead, you wouldn't leave me… no… no no no no no no… STOP IT RIGHT NOW BRITAIN!!" Alfred yelled furiously, shaking Arthur's shoulders madly. This game wasn't funny anymore for Alfred. He gave up, Arthur won! Now he could wake up and everything would go back to normal… but when Alfred saw Arthur's face, his distant eyes, his faint smile… he knew. Alfred rested his head on the bed, holding onto Arthur's hand tightly as he wept and wailed uncontrollably. He didn't want to believe it…



His ally that he knew was eager to keep working on…



His old friend that he knew that he could rely on…



His big brother that he had desperately depended on…



… was actually gone.