Hey there, Fang here. I've been on another HetaOni tear, so here we are. Another story, which takes place a few hours or so right after my first HetaOni Story, "Grieving for Sacrifice". Please enjoy! I do so enjoy angsting the poor Brit to death.

No...n-no, America!

You're not dead, you couldn't be dead! Bloody hell, wake up! Don't you dare play games with me on this, you blithering idiot!

God...no...no, please...please be joking...

NO!

NO, Alfred! Alfred, don't do this to me!

So much blood...blood...everywhere, there is blood...make it stop...make it stop make it stop don't die don't die I can't bear it don't DIE!

England choked back a scream of fright and agony as his mind finally jolted him back into the world of the living. He didn't dare move, not trusting himself to keep himself together. His eyes shut tight against the onslaught of images still pouring into his mind unending.

A dream. Or reality? No...no, definitely a dream...it had to be...

He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes still closed, and let it out in a strangled gasp. America was alive. He was. It was a dream. The...Thing...hadn't gotten to him.

Everything around him was quiet. He could hear the soft breathing of the nations close to him, all in a silent slumber. England focused on just that, breathing, right now, trying to calm his racing heart and pounding head.

The pain that was biting into his arms startled him, and he released his tight grip to find that he had been digging his nails into the flesh of his upper arms as he curled in around himself.

He bit back a moan to keep the others from waking up, and rubbed at his aching head. Did he use magic lately...? He couldn't quite remember...that dream still took up his waking mind. Where was he?

England opened his eyes.

Blackness met him.

Instantly, the events of only a few hours ago flashed through his head, and he verbally gasped in shock. The Thing. America. Magic. Glasses. He was blind. He couldn't see. Oh God, he couldn't see. Darkness filled his mind, destroying any ounce of self-control he had.

England bolted up in sheer panic, grabbing at his face as if he could force his vision back in place, but the most he did was cover his eyes and dig his nails into his forehead. Breathing became even more of an issue. He couldn't get enough oxygen. Blind. I'm blind. Shit, this isn't happening to me. This can't happen, it isn't right, this is a dream!

His breath was coming in strangled wheezes. England looked about frantically through his fingers, seeing nothing but that never-ending nothingness. He fell back against the bed he had been lying on and curled up, his face still in his hands. He heard a voice, but his ears were overtaken by the sound of his own frantic heartbeat, erratic with hysteria.

He felt hands on his own, taking them away from his face and pinning them to the bed by his head so he was lying flat on his back. Instantly, his world snapped back into focus.

"England."

The voice was calm, composed, but worried. Coming from directly above him, and considering the strength of the hands on his wrists, it was America.

His breath was still choppy, and he closed his eyes, noticing with dread that it didn't change a thing about his vision.

"England, calm down, please? It's me...England, it's America."

England barely nodded his head, as he shook so much. America gripped him by his upper arms now, mindful of his healing injuries from previous fights, to make sure he didn't thrash about any more than he had already.

"A-America..." England's whispery voice barely made it out of him.

"Yeah, it's me. England, you need to settle down, alright? Come on, just listen to my voice. You are alright."

Alright? I'm fucking blind, you git! was making it's way to England's mouth, but it died as his tremorings threatened to increase.

"England! Arthur, relax, please!" America's hands made their way to the sides of his face, grasping him firmly. England drew in one last shaky breath and fell limp, mentally and physically spent. With Alfred's soothing litany of encouragement and reassurement, he began to breath normally, with only the occasional hitch.

America's hands left his face, leaving him bereft of any knowledge as to where he was besides what he could hear and feel. But there was a comforting arm wrapping itself behind his shoulders and lifting him up to a sitting position, and then he was leaning on a warm body, full of vitality and strength. He desparately needed both.

"A-Alfred-"

"Shh. Don't speak until you're ready, okay?"

England could have smirked in bewilderment. Since when had he ever heard that soft, caring tone in his brother's voice...

Oh. Right. When Alfred learned that he was...he was blind.

Blind.

Another terrified sob wracked his body, and Alfred's hold on him tightened, his hand rubbing his arm gently.

They sat like that in silence, England leaning into America, into the comfort and safety that awaited him. Alfred could do nothing but reach out to him, try his damned best to pull him from the dark abyss that had grabbed ahold of his brother when he lost his sight.

England touched his own eyes gently, with trembling fingers.

"Alfred...I'm alright..."

"No, you're not."

"Really, I...I'm sorry I woke you up, please, just go back to bed..."

"You are not alright, and no, you didn't wake me. I was already up."

"I will be alright, and you need slee-"

"Arthur. How do you feel?" Alfred's voice cut in, concerned and completely unconvinced.

'Fine' was on the tip of Arthur's tongue, but something inside him pushed that remark back.

"Scared." he whispered.

Alfred's hand moved to his back, massaging him quietly, comfortingly. He honestly didn't know how to respond to that. Arthur was so strong, so invulnerable...and he was scared...?

"That's alright...I mean, no one expects you to be fine after...that..."

Arthur snorted weakly. "No, but...I shouldn't be such a blithering mess after it..." He couldn't bring himself to even open his eyes now, knowing that what lay beyond his eyelids might throw him back into that dark place.

"And no one here blames you for it, Arthur. They're worried about you."

Arthur's hand clenched in his lap. "I would have done it..."

"Hm? Done what?" Alfred's voice was tinged with uncertainty.

"...I would have done it again. Even if...even if the same outcome was unavoidable..." Arthur's voice dropped lower and lower in volume. Alfred was practically hugging him now.

"Don't say that. You had nothing to prove to me, you know that!"

"I did!" Arthur almost shouted, and then cursed himself as he heard France mutter in his sleep. "I needed to prove...that I was still strong. That you could still look up to me..."

Alfred had gone completely silent, so he continued. " I...I haven't done much during this whole damned adventure...I had no magic, and when I did, I ended up killing myself or passing out. But...at least I was able to make sure people didn't really worry about me, so they could focus on the task at hand...though Italy definitely helped there."

"Dammit, Arthur, I was worried."

Arthur's eyebrows went up. Alfred sounded almost angry. He could have laughed.

"Though a whole lot of good it bloody well did me...I can't even see now. I'm just that much more a burden for the whole fucking-"

Alfred spun him around, and lifted his chin up so that Arthur faced him directly.

"You have never been a burden." Arthur had never heard so much vehemence in Alfred's tone.

"You know why I worry about you? Why we all do? You just couldn't see past your own nose! Every time you sacrificed yourself for one of us, every time I had to watch you die, you acted like it was no big deal!"

Alfred's hands were quivering. "But it is a huge deal! What, you think none of us cared that you were constantly dying? You just made me need to protect you that much more! I wanted you to stop your magic, because each time you gained a piece, you were that much closer to death! I can't take that anymore, you hear me?"

Arthur had almost stopped breathing from Alfred's tirade.

"You are not the sacrifical lamb here! There are, there have to be other ways of saving friends! Goddammit, why don't you get that? You didn't need to prove anything to me, because you have proven it too many times. I didn't need to see it again..."

Alfred's hand dropped from Arthur's chin, and the Englishman hung his head, too shocked by his younger brother's words to do much else.

"...I said to you in an earlier timeline...that a hero can never forsake anyone. But yet here you are, asking me to forsake you simply because you can't see! You have been asking me to forsake you simply because you think that is your only purpose here, to save others with your own life in exchange! I'm sick of it, Arthur, so now I'm almost glad you're fucking blind, because now you can't go running off and dying on me again!"

Arthur cringed in his grip, and Alfred snapped his mouth closed, realizing what he had just said.

"A-Arthur, I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I understood your meaning." Arthur's words were icy cold. "I'm not a burden, but you want me to be useless so you can protect me? Oh, how very touching." He pulled away from Alfred, and stood up shakily, grasping onto the bed post for support. Alfred bounded up to help him, but was shaken off yet again as Arthur moved to the wall to walk.

"Arthur!"

"What?"

"I didn't...I didn't mean what I said...I wish your sight was back, I wish you had never lost it...You have to believe me, Arthur..."

The Brit sighed, and sank down the wall to sit on the floor. He heard Alfred's hurried footsteps toward him, and inwardly smiled as he felt his brother's prescence kneel in front of him in concern.

"...I do, Alfred."

"I let myself get carried away...I was just...just so scared you might've died..." his voice shook. Arthur instantly forgave him for his comment.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"We will get out of here, right?"

"Yes, of course." he responded. They both sat in silence, unsure.

"Arthur?"

"Yes."

"Can I... see your eyes..."

Arthur felt a small tingle of trepidation, but opened his eyes accordingly. He relaxed as Alfred's hand wrapped around his wrist as he stared into nothingness, knowing that Alfred was staring right back.

"What do you see?"

"...Blank...empty...Oh, Arthur..." Alfred sounded heartbroken. From the direction of his voice, and the feel of his breath, he was staring straight at him, unable to move his line of sight anywhere else.

Arthur swallowed, and squeezed Alfred's hand back. They weren't Arthur's eyes, was what was implemented in his brother's description. Arthur set his face.

"Alfred...go...find me a cloth... something to wrap my eyes with..."

Alfred's hesitation was his only sign of confusion, but he reluctantly left Arthur's little bubble of sound and touch for a few seconds, coming back soon. He pressed the white slip of sheet he had torn into Arthur's hand.

"This?"

Arthur nodded, and bent his head to give Alfred easier access. Alfred wound the cloth gently about his eyes, covering them entirely from view. Tying the thin knot in the back of his head, he lifted Arthur's head back up.

Arthur touched the fabric surrounding his eyes. "I don't want...anyone else seeing them. Not like that."

Alfred had changed position, and now he was sitting next to him, placing his arm around his brother and drawing him close.

"Did we wake any of the others?" he remembered, asking Alfred. A moment of silence came, and then he responded.

"No...heh, not like I'm surprised, considering they're all pretty much dead to the world."

Arthur almost laughed. "Horrible joke to make, brother mine."

Alfred did laugh at that.

Arthur felt an intense weariness after his mental breakdown, and gladly laid his head on Alfred's proffered shoulder.

"I...I still want to see them...not all the time...but just..." Alfred's voice drifted over his head.

"Why?" he mumbled sleepily.

"A reminder. Of a mistake I never want to make again."

"...if...if you wish..."

Alfred sighed and settled his chin upon Arthur's head. Sleep overcame and took them both.

Author's Comments:

Wrote this at 2 in the morning. Yes. I am good.

I do so wish that HetaOni would continue..but for now, I will have to be satisfied with playing the game of it which I was so happy to find. Oh well...

Please review, if you liked it, or if you don't, because I appreciate any means of trying to make my writing better.

Oh! And if you have any requests for a HetaOni scene to be expanded upon, or a scene to be made up, or added to, or do a thorough character study of one, do tell me. I would love to write it, as I am almost out of Alfred and Arthur Brotherly Angst scenes here.

Thank you!

-Fang