Disclaimer: not mine.

Summary: Sometimes times intersect. This is one of those stores. Feature Alfred F. Jones thrown back in time, and causing all sorts of problems while solving others.

Warnings: Cursing, dark themes, descriptions of horrific deaths, crimes, history (as accurate as I can possibly be), and American- Awesome-ness.

Another Language that isn't English

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Chapter One:

Within the Forest of Eve

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Waking up had to be the most painful experience in the history of mankind. Every single muscle hurt like hell, and cut on his left leg ached terribly. He rubbed his eyes winching as another cut on his cheek made its presence known. Little by little his vision was clearing; his sense of self returning as a familiar all encompassing warmth wrapped itself around him, comforting him, and directing him.

He sat up, rubbing his shoulders; thankfully he hadn't somehow managed to dislocate them (again), and shifted himself so he could get a closer look at the cut on his leg. Sitting cross legged, he surveyed the damage, a little surprised when he noticed how deep the cut really was.

Bleeding still, there were some black specs within it, his jean pants ripped and sticking to the bloodied area like glue. He pushed up the material, and taking a spare handkerchief, and some Neosporin from his sub-space pockets [1], tried to clean the cut as best he could. It was a little difficult without some water but he managed a fairly decent attempt in spite of the short of clean water, and pasted his hanky over the wound. Later on, when he had a chance he'd sew it up, but for now he needed to start moving.

'I must be home.' He thought as he stood up opening his jacket, and shrugging it off. It was way too warm to wear in the sunny weather, and his glasses needed a good clean. In the difference of temperature they were fogging up like crazy. Using his shirt he cleaned his glasses humming a little.

"Maybe this whole spactial thing isn't so bad." He said putting back on his glasses. Brilliant, big trees surrounded him, a light breeze ruffling his hair in a caring gesture. It was good to be home, even if it'd be hell to explain later why he suddenly returned home during the World Conference…

Oh, well.

He figured out something.

For now, he needed to return to Washington, and—

"Help me! Dammit someone help me!"

Alfred sped off. The loud, helpless voice more than giving him a hint as to the direction of the victim instead the dull thud in his senses telling him something (or someone) was amiss in his country. He took a sharp turn around some trees, and skid to a halt on the edge of some cliff, glancing around for the helpless person. He spotted a white and green patch of cloth towards the side and raced over reaching a hand out and helping the poor person up.

It was a little girl.

Dressed like a maid.

She climbed up, her clothing almost catching on a stray twig. Alfred blinked at the apparel but said nothing, watching as the tiny individual feebly tried to dust herself off, cursing up a storm. Patches of dirt and leaves covered the green sleeves, and the white lining of the dress was loose and worn, unlikely to be fixed without some outside help. He kneeled down starting to pat down the dress. Instantly the small child turned around, a glare in her eyes.

"Who the fuck said you could touch me?" She demanded, tiny arms crossed and a frown upon her face, though it came off as more as a pout then an actual glare.

Alfred struggled not to laugh.

It was just too cute a sight.

He smirked. "No one, but you messed a spot." He said pointing to the dress.

The girl glared, and huffed, going back to her work. She didn't say anything when Alfred pulled some leaves from her short brown hair, or that strange curl in her bangs. It kind of reminded him of the Italy's. The way it bobbed in tune with her emotions and—

"Aren't you done yet Bastard?"

Alfred smiled. "Done."

He moved back, standing up and dusted off his hands, feeling a little awkward and a bit curious to how a tiny little girl managed to get herself lost in the forest to begin with. As far as he could tell there were no settlements close to the area, only the encampments of the French further north, and maybe the Spanish missionaries to the south-east and—

Alfred thoughts came to a halt.

His eyes went wide, as he scanned his land again, coming up with the same answer still. There was no trace of any of his major cities and from what he could feel there were a huge number of other nations wondering around the coast. No evidence of any nuclear attacks, no zombies and no killer disease, no nothing.

It was starting to freak him out how, blank his land was. Hell, from the looks of it, he was almost tempted to say he had traveled back into the past—

A chain of loud shouts from below broke his chain of thoughts.

He glanced down, unable to believe his eyes.

On the landing below, two men dressed in long flowing outfits, looking remarkably like 16th century, clashed. Swords, and kicks flying back and forward as the two men fought it out. It was a dance of death, blood spilling in drops and an intense anger coming in tidal waves, unwavering and unrelenting.

But one thing caught Alfred's eye.

"Arthur?" He whispered eyes widening as he watched the intense battle continuing to taking place between the two nations.

He couldn't see who the second nation was too well, their puffy reddish hat, and outlandish style hiding most of their facial features but something about him seemed familiar….

Alfred ducked behind a bush, pulling the small child with him, as they hid in some shrubbery, trying and failing to stop on coming panic attack from overwhelming him. Unless this whole situation was some bad rip off the Back to the Future movies, he was in deep shit.

He was in the past.

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[1] Sub-space pockets: an alien tech gifted to Alfred by Tony. If you're really interested in it, check out my other fanfiction called 'Perspective' it talks more about this and some of the alien tech likely to re-appear in this fanfic *hint, hint*.

Author's Note: Kind of a crappy chapter considering it's been sitting on my laptop for almost two months, and I couldn't find anything I really liked about it, but I guess it works…. Hopefully, it doesn't make anyone want to stab me or anything...

Anyhow-

Please Read and Review!

Even if only to complain how much I really should not be writing...