Um...don't really know why I did this. Guess this is what happens when I get inspired by a song. *sighs*

Well...enjoy!

PS. Should I do a sequel?

"Hey, Artie?"

"What is it, Alfred?"

"I got a request for you."

"It's 'have', not 'got'."

"Ah…whatever."

"Now there's no need to be a sourpuss. You have a request for me, haven't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, shoot away."

"…"

"Alfred?"

"Artie, should I die…I want to be in the finest suit you can afford me. I know Feli's got the kind I like so you go to him and ask for one."

"Alfred – "

"And I want my resting place to have roses. Not so much, though, 'cause it'd look like a flower bed then. Maybe just a few hedges around my headstone. Oh, and they should be in red, blue and white. That way, they'll be in my flag's colors. And they should be American beauty roses. That kind's my national flower, you know."

"Al – "

"And I want to be buried at dawn somewhere with a clear view of the sea. I'd like to see a new day without me start when the sun would rise over the horizon. I don't want to be in Arlington with all my deceased. I wanna be selfish for a change and be on my own so that you guys can visit me peacefully and – "

"ALFRED!"

"What?"

"Do you realize you've been babbling about bullocks for the past ten minutes?"

"But Artie – "

"Alfred, we can't simply die. Our existences are dependent on our people and economies. We only cease to exist if our countries are officially abolished or if our people are wiped out by a pandemic or mass killing or if our economies take the plunge and hit the bucket."

"What about Gilbert?"

"He is a bloody anomaly. But I guess it's because his people still remember and believe in him."

"What if the cause has nothing to do with the economy or the people? What if…never mind."

"What the Hell are you talking about, git? Spill it."

"It's nothing, Artie. I just…want those things to be done should I die young."

"That is highly impossible and you bloody well know it. Now let's get back to those stars, shall we?"

"Haha…yeah…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…hey, Artie?"

"Hmm?"

"I know we…aren't really bros anymore, but I just want you to know that you'll always be my best friend."

"Alfred…"

"And I'm really liking this moment now. Lying on the grass and gazing up at the stars with you. It's quiet and nice and…warm. I mean, yeah, it's nighttime and it should be freakin' cold, especially with winter just around the bend and all. But now…even if it's just you and me…it's so warm."

"…"

"Artie?"

"You…you're my best friend, too. You always will be, Alfred."

"Cool. I'm your Hero, too, right?"

"Now you're just pushing it."

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If I die young…

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"He…he has cancer, Mr. Kirkland."

"…w-what?"

"He's been having this for months now. He told me to keep it a secret from all of you."

"…"

"I-I offered him ways to cure his illness, but he would always decline. I knew his chances were slim, but I kept on pushing – "

"Wait. 'Were'?"

"…I'm afraid there is nothing we can do now, Mr. Kirkland. He's…terminal."

"No…"

"At most, he only has five months left – "

"NO!"

"M-Mr. Kirkland?"

"NO! SAVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO!"

"But – "

"I CAN'T FUCKING LOSE HIM! GOD KNOWS I CAN'T!"

"But it looks like…God has no other choice."

"THEN SCREW HIM! SCREW ALL THOSE WANKERS UP THERE WHO CALL THEMSELVES ANGELS BUT ONLY WANT TO TEAR LIVES APART BY DEATH!"

"M-Mr. Kirkland…you should know that though your…kind may be immortal to age, they are not immortal to serious diseases such as cancer. In fact, your kind's condition makes it worse. So worse that our normal methods and treatments can do nothing."

"Please…save him…"

"I…can't, Mr. Kirkland…"

"S-Save him…I beg of you…do something…do anything…I c-can't lose him…he's my ally…my Hero…my best friend…my little brother…my…my…"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kirkland."

"…m-my son…"

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Bury me in satin…

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"H-Hey, Artie…"

"You stupid Yankee. Why the fuck didn't you tell us? Me?"

"I didn't…wanna worry you guys. Besides…I can't be…saved anymore…"

"D-Don't say that!"

"But – "

"Fuck you. Do you know how much it hurts to see you like this? To see you wasting away on a hospital bed and hooked up to so many bloody contraptions that mock me with their persistent beeping?"

"Artie…"

"Do you know how inconsolable Matthew was when we all found out? He couldn't stop crying for three fucking days. You even got Ivan down in the dumps. They all visit you every single day and stay for at least three hours, hoping that you'd wake up and tell them that this is all just a bloody joke of yours."

"…"

"But it's not, isn't it? You really are…I don't want to believe it. That my little brother – scratch that. My son can't be dying. A parent isn't supposed to outlive his child. How can I live with myself, Alfie? After you…you…"

"I guess…you just have to…"

"How?"

"…I don't know…"

"Oh that's just fucking – "

"…but you have to. I want you to…"

"A-Alfie…"

"Please…live for me. If not…for yourself, then for me…and Mattie. Mattie's…still there. He's going to need…someone to lean on…later if not…sooner…"

"You can't leave me, kid. I…haven't been a good father to you."

"Hey…I haven't exactly been…a good son either. I know it's late…but sorry 'bout the tea…"

"And I apologize for forcing those God-awful taxes on you. And for burning down your White House. Forgive me."

"Already did…"

"…"

"…"

"Alfie?"

"Hmm…?"

"You know that…I love you, right? With all my heart and soul and all that I am."

"…ha…"

"Why? What's so funny?"

"You are. You really do…underestimate me…"

"N-No! I don't – "

"I already…know that…you love me. You're…my father, aren't you…?"

"…y-yes. Yes, I am."

"Good. And I'm…your son…aren't I…?"

"…"

"Artie…?"

"Of course, you are. You are my dear little Alfie. You always will be."

"Thanks…Dad…"

"Anytime, son. Anytime."

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Lay me down on a bed of roses…

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"Nngh…it hurts…"

"I…know, kid. Don't push yourself. I'm right here. Your father's here."

"Hey…Dad…?"

"Yes, Alfie?"

"Do you…remember my request…from that night…when we went out to…look at the stars…?"

"I-I won't forget that. How can I forget that?"

"I got…one more thing…to ask…"

"Anything, Alfie. I'll give you anything."

"If I die young…send me away…with words of love…engrave them…on my headstone…so I may remember…so everyone will remember."

"…"

"Remember me…okay…? Don't forget…me…"

"Never. I will never forget you. We all won't."

"Forever…love me…forever…"

"I already do. You don't have to ask me."

"…"

"…"

"…Dad…"

"What is it, Alfie?"

"I'm so…tired…"

"A-Alfie?"

"I…wanna sleep…too much pain…wanna…sleep it all away…"

"…"

"…Dad…?"

"…"

"…Dad…Daddy…?"

"…i-it's okay, son. You can sleep now. You can stop being strong. It's…my turn to be strong. Sleep, Alfie. You won't feel any more pain in Dreamland."

"...yeah…'kay…"

"Now close your eyes, kid. And sleep."

"…take care…of yourself…and Mattie…and tell him…Big Bro loves him…"

"Of course. I will."

"…love you…Daddy…"

"I-I…I love you, too, Alfie. Always."

"…nighty-night…Daddy…"

"Good night, son. Sweet dreams."

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Sink me in the river at dawn…

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"The United States of America

Alfred Franklin Jones

You are the whole world's Hero. We will never forget you.

You are your brother's Best Friend. He will always remember you.

You are your father's Son. He will always love you."

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Send me away with the words of a love song…

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"Hey, Alfie."

"…"

"Are you…happy up there?"

"…"

"You bloody should be. Your suit's semi-satin, just so you know. Feliciano himself made it. You seem to have gone to him a lot before since he knew your measurements well. Hell, he didn't even charge me anything."

"…"

"Do you like the roses? American beauties in red, white and blue around your headstone, just the way you wanted them to be. The bloody frog was the one who planted them. I have to admit that he's done a good job tending them. He does so every time he visits. And that's once every week."

"…"

"Matthew had your resting place picked out. He said you and he would come here occasionally back then to just hang out. This place is nice. A quiet little lot by the Atlantic that only we nations know of. It'd be rowdy here on your birthday, though. We'd drink the night away under all those fireworks."

"…"

"Have you read the inscription on your headstone? Very poetic of me, yes? After all, the greatest playwright in all of history did come from me. And so did many more famous writers and poets. Just…don't remind me of that fellow who brought Dorian Gray to life."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I miss you, son."

"…"

"Why…?"

"…"

"Y-You've already forgiven me, haven't you?"

"…"

"…then…why…?"

"…"

"Why did you…h-have to leave me?"

"…"

"Don't you…love me enough…?"

"…"

"No. You love me. You said so yourself. I must not doubt my son."

"…"

"But…why…?"

"…"

"Why…did God…have to…fucking take you away…from me…?"

"…"

"D-Doesn't He know…that I love you too much…"

"…"

"…to s-simply…let you go…?"

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The sharp knife of a short life…

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.

"M-Mister, please stop crying…"

"Go away…"

"Mister, please…"

"Just…leave me…"

"Y-Your son wouldn't want – "

"BY THE QUEEN'S MANTLE, I SAID GO AWAY, YOU LOUSY LITTLE – oh my God."

"W-Why? What's wrong?"

"You…y-you can't be…"

"Uh…mister?"

"…you're dead…supposed to be six feet under…but you're here…how…no…you're just a tyke..."

"Ummm…is something…the matter?"

"…your h-hair's black, but you have that ridiculously stubborn cowlick…that Nantucket…your eyes…they're ruby – no – blood…BLOOD red…but the way they shine…they…you're…you…"

"M-Mister…?"

"You…what's your name?"

"Why, it's Allen! Allen Foster Jones, my kind Sir! The Hero is at your service!"

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Well, I've had just enough time…