Chapter 1

He crouched in front of the crumbling grave, a bundle of periwinkle flowers in hand. Clouds gathered overhead, promising rain, but he did not care. His hair could get ruined. it didn't matter to him, not like it mattered to his annoying Danish friend.

"Hey, Davie, it's me, Alfred," he whispered as he set the flowers down. "Sorry for not visiting in so long. It's been really hard to come with the war that happened. So many nations have fallen… I'm surprised I'm not gone as well. Mattie already has; you should have met him when you had the chance. He was there, even though I always forgot about him…"

Alfred, otherwise known as the United States of America wiped his brow. He was beginning to break out in a sweat; after the war ended, much of the world had become a radioactive wasteland, and the planet's temperature was rising each year. "Ha, it's only April, but it feels like July in the South. And we're in the North! I'm sure you've never felt heat like this before: it's awful. I feel like I'm being baked. And I'm not even food! What's up with that?" He chuckled to himself. "If someone heard me, they'd think I was insane."

"You are insane, America," a voice called from behind him.

America straightened up suddenly. "What?" He whirled around, and in the hazy smog, he saw England. The older nation stood leaning against the fence. His back was crooked: after losing part of his nation, the Brit could no longer stand for very long without getting pains.

"England, what are you doing here?" America jogged over. "You shouldn't have come all this way with your back."

"I could say the same about you. You aren't in the best shape either, America," England sighed. "It's getting very hard to stay home. Many of my people are leaving to look for a better place where they won't get sick. I'm falling…"

"So you came here…" America trailed off. England hadn't come to America for help in a very long time. Since the beginning of America's nationhood, their relationship had been strained, and even through various military alliances, the two had never personally reconnected, even though they had once been like a father and son to each other. And now England was falling, and he had nowhere to go to.

"What about France?" America asked.

"Francis," England corrected. "His capital fell. He's not fit to help a nation like this anymore."

America's eyes widened. "When did this happen?"

"A month ago. That's when I realized I had to come here. Francis called me- he used the only phone he could find- his people had destroyed the capital. They couldn't handle it anymore. They're leaving, looking for a new place. The government isn't taking enough measures to keep them there and keep them healthy, and now my country is doing it too… Scotland has already left me, and Wales… Wales is gone. Wales has been gone a long time… Didn't even survive the war."

"Why aren't you with your people, England?" America protested. "You need to try something! You can make them stay! You're England! You're the country! You have more power than the government! You- you…"

England shook his head. "It's not like that anymore. They despise us. Francis is in hiding, and he's going to come here as soon as he can. You're in the best condition now. This is the only place we can go to where we might not be killed. America, you won't be able to call me England anymore. They are looking for me."

"This isn't right, England. You weren't always like this! You have to stop. Even when I rebelled against you, you weren't like this," America snapped at the Englishman.

England stared forlornly at the nation. "I was still a nation then. I'm not now. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

"You're England! Don't say that you aren't! Go back home and make things right! I can do it! My nation is so much younger and I did it!"

"Exactly. You still have so much life. You can keep going. My empire has fallen, just like many others."

"But some of you survived! You can keep going now! There's you, and France, and Denmark, and Germany, and Italy, and so many others!"

"America, Denmark's gone. He's completely submerged."

"Matthias, I don't care! He's still there!"

"Matthias is gone too. He's been missing for weeks. No one has seen him."

"No one will see you! You're in hiding! Maybe he is too!"

"America, it's not the same. There is no land left for him. There is no way for him to be alive."

"So what? He's Matthias now! He can live through it!"

"America, he's gone. There are maybe twenty of us left. You have to face it now. There's nothing you can do."

"I'm the hero. I can fix it. I'll make sure he's alive. Everyone else too!"

"America-"

"Stop. You can't stop me. I'm going to find him. Matthias is alive, you'll see."

Arthur sighed, "You don't need to be doing this. You have a country to look after, not a fallen nation."

"But Gilbert is still alive."

"No, America. Gilbert is dead too."

"No, he isn't. He's at my place. He's been hiding out the whole war. Just yesterday he drove up here from where he's been staying out in the Midwest."

"But Germany said-"

"Germany brought him here because he knew that Gilbert wouldn't survive out in Europe like the real nations would. To keep him safe, we said he was dead," America explained. He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, reflecting a deep crimson shade off the clouds and bathing them in a bloody light. "We should go back inside. We're about to hit curfew, and only bad guys come out after dark."

"So I'm staying with you tonight," Arthur confirmed.

"There's nowhere else you can get to before curfew," America nodded, and he helped the Englishman up from the fence. Together, they lumbered back to America's house.

They were greeted with a large wilting garden and broken front porch swings. All the windows were barred, and the front door bolted. It took America several minutes to unlock each of the locks, and by the time he did, the sun had almost completely set, casting darkness over the pair of them.

The moment America opened the door, Arthur heard Gilbert singing to himself from the other room. He scowled. He thought he had missed the loud Prussian, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Hey, Gil! Guess who's visiting?" America called.

Suddenly, the singing stopped, and a familiar albino appeared in the front hall. "Iggy!"

Arthur grunted. "Don't call me that, Gilbert. It's Arthur."

"What do ya mean? You're the almighty England!" Gilbert chuckled, clapping Arthur on the back.

He scowled. "Not anymore."

Gilbert stared for a moment, then coughed and looked away. He grumbled something about it being rude to stare and finally spoke up. "I'll go get something out of the basement for dinner. Did you get anything to add today, America?"

"No, several stores have closed up. Too many people are looting them, and they need to save the rest of the supplies for themselves," America shook his head.

Gilbert groaned. "Oh, man! Soon we're gonna have to leave this place. Where will we go?"

"I guess out west. The place you stayed at is still intact," America laughed.

Gilbert's eyes widened. "That place was awful! I never want to go back there! Texas was so boring, and don't even get me started on-"

"Bloody git, you're giving me a headache," Arthur cut in. "We won't have to leave here anytime soon. This country's still holding on, as as long as it is, we will be fed."

"Arthur, that's not exactly true," America said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see, during the war, things went really downhill. I'm still a country, but not necessarily a good one, and most of my country is being neglected. We've been collecting food and survival gear most of the war, and Gilbert brought everything he scavenged when he came. Who knows how much longer we'll last here like this, and if we run out of food, you two won't last nearly as long as I will, and I don't think I'll last that long. I'm wasting away: we all are."