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For the longest time- three hours now- he had managed to stay civil. Nay, he was the only one making the effort to at this point. Alfred, Mr. Follow the damn yellow brick road, was lost. Judging by the stupid grin on his face, he was not aware of this.

"You said that Neverland was a city," he reminded him as they were clearly in a forest. Arthur was very inclined to believe he had been tricked and would be transferred to some government facility shortly. If it were not for Alfred outright obliviousness to his hostility, he might have jumped out of the car right then and made his way back to Europe. Alfred slammed on the brakes, jerking Arthur forward for a moment. Thanks to his seatbelt, he merely ricocheted back to his seat. Alfred, cheerful up to this point, sighed, releasing his grip on the wheel. He turned on the radio, unsurprisingly playing an American song from the fifties. (Many foreign artists were banned now, even the Beatles. America could be quite petty about these things really, not that it infuriated England like it did when he was still alive. ) He then pulled a small lever next to his seat, reclining his seat back so it became difficult to keep proper eye contact with him. To add insult to injury, Alfred put his arms behind his head and completely ignored him.

"Alfred, did you lie to me?" he persisted. It wouldn't do to be taken by a rogue robot who looked just like Am- one of them. Alfred closed his eyes and hummed- nothing Arthur recognized sadly. England was about to demand the information more explicitly when Alfred opened one of his eyes and answered.

"Sorry but I'm not required to deal with your little temper tantrums," he said, opening his eyes and stretching. Not long after, he officially turned off the engine. England was not pleased.

"I would simply like to know why we are in the middle of a bloody forest when you said we were going to a suburban area," England said, crossing his arms. He was not the one being unreasonable, after all, even as a nation, he had certain reservations about not knowing where he was. Arthur was not infallible and was often spared destruction due to his innate stubbornness than any inherent immortality.

" For your information, we happen to be in the outskirts of Neverland, and if you continue to complain, I will ship your ass back to Japan," he said, narrowing his eyes into slits and smiling as a friendly reminder that Alfred ran things whether he liked it or not. England scoffed; he didn't particularly like these circumstances. He wanted to talk to something human, not something contrived to act human. Never mind if he was doing a decent job so far, he shouldn't have to remind himself America was dead. It made him feel guiltier than anything he'd actually done, because he was very aware how easy it would be to simply pretend that America wasn't.

" For a jolly dolt, you do have a tendency to snap," England muttered, a bit disturbed that Alfred's berserk button happened to be his creator. He wasn't supposed to be another person, but at the same time, he didn't want him to be America.

" He went to a lot of trouble to get real trees and continued to plant them, long after his health started to deteriorate. Canada noticed what America was doing and helped plant them. It's the last thing they did together. I thought you of all people would appreciate it," Alfred explained, dousing Arthur's temper considerably. In fact, he felt like a huge prick. England supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least lessen the severity of his criticisms or maybe, even apologize.

"I . . . I didn't know," he said instead, because at the end of the day, one sad story wasn't going to undo his own issues with his family, extended or otherwise.

" Just trust me, okay, I know what I'm doing," Alfred said, finally sparing him a glance as he searched for some semblance of trust. He didn't find it.

"That's hard to believe," England said, appraising the synthetic model in front of him. How many times had he heard that before from America, the one who would rapidly deteriorate into legend as time went on? Already, he couldn't remember small details like what he liked on his sandwich, why exactly he loved rabbits so much, and when exactly he started to call himself the hero, the things that made him human to Arthur.

"It's never stopped you before," Alfred said, staring at his palm, likely seeing something that Arthur couldn't grasp -not anymore. He noticed and closed the fist tightly, before returning his gaze to Arthur.

"Do you know why America did this?" Alfred said, gesturing to the pine trees around them.

"A last ditch effort to fix what I broke?"he guessed which had Alfred laugh, muttering something that sounded like egotistical Brit. England ignored this and tried to remember why he had agreed with Parliament when they suggested destroying what remained of America's finite resources instead of using precision strikes which had become the standard. Try as he might to find another reason, he could think of only one, because in the end, he wanted to destroy his successor.

"No, this part has little to do with you, actually. He was going back to the beginning," Alfred said, pressing his hand against the car while looking at the pines visible through the moon roof. This idea seeped into Arthur's head and echoed ominously. The past brought fear, resentment, hostility and above all, lacked the knowledge necessary to let him grow. However, judging by all the nostalgic 50's paraphernalia, America didn't seem to get that.

" How could that have been remotely helpful?" England asked, and it seemed his polite tone was enough to avoid annoying the machine. Alfred, as far as Arthur could tell anyway, wasn't particularly fascinated by the pines outside, but whatever was passing through his circuits right then.

" He felt at peace in the forest; it helped him think clearly. America vaguely remembered a time when he was simply trusted to serve nature's best interest, before things became complicated and ethnicity and intelligence started to matter, before he had to make a choice of whom to protect," Alfred said with a sigh, growing sullen. Still, he managed to smile when he noticed England's own frown.

"I can't quite grasp the feeling, but I understand it meant a lot to him. Would you like to see it for a while?" Alfred asked, and Arthur could tell he would be deeply insulted if he didn't.

"Yes," Arthur said, deciding that the hungry could wait another hour. He paused as the wrongness of the statement sank in. Considering the absolutely horrible -sometimes unforgivable- things he did on a regular basis, he was glad that he would most likely never die and find out whether there was a worse punishment than his own self loathing.

"Tell me, are there faeries in these parts? " he asked distractedly; perhaps, he could justify their detour this way. The faeries were the key to finding what he needed. He slapped his neck yet again when he felt a tingling sensation against his skin. Alfred gaped, before covering his face as if he had given too much away. England stared at his hand dubiously. Perhaps, he had.

"It wouldn't matter if there was," Alfred muttered quietly while pocketing his keys. Arthur continued to stare at his hand, daring to believe there might be more to it than he originally thought. Had he done something wrong without realizing it? It had certainly happened before. Alfred observed Arthur's slow descent out of the car, practically drilling a hole into his hand with his steady gaze.

"Lighten up a little, would ya?" Alfred asked, slapping England's back in an attempt to startle him out of his pondering. He only blinked in response, finding his close examination fruitless, apparently, trying to force his previous sight to return would do him no good.

"Not everyone has a button that tells them when to smile," he answered instead, somewhat irritable. How could a bloody robot see what used to come so easily to him? Better yet, what if anything about this copy made him worthy to see them?

" I'm going to tell you something that's going to make this trip a lot easier on you," Alfred said, leaning against the car, in an effort to appear casual, despite Arthur knowing full well that he would have left a large dent if he really were putting his full weight into it. Alfred's usual expression tended to be joyous; however, his smile had shifted into a thin line and his eyes, normally huge and open, were lidded

"What?"he asked when no answer was given.

"I respond better to positive reinforcement," Alfred said, walking away from him without showing any of the apprehension present when England had threatened to leave the restaurant. This confidence likely came from the fact that Arthur had no idea where they were and had to follow or risk getting lost in a country that had become extremely Xenophobic.

"Why are you following me?" he asked because Arthur was expected to be a mind reader and automatically know what the machine had in mind.

" I thought you were going to show me around?" he said, none too subtle about his annoyance. Alfred's eyes momentarily scanned the surrounding area likely seeing "faeries" or perhaps something else entirely. England couldn't make up his mind about the matter. He had vivid memories of contacting such beings before although he had excused it as some sort of escapism on his part. England had yet to see evidence either way.

" It would be best for you to explore on your own. I will find you before it gets dark," Alfred said, continuing his trek into the forest. Arthur had yet to give up on following because he had been subject to such ridiculous reasoning before. Scot insisting he man up and learn to take care of himself had led to his brother dragging him by the cape into the forest and forcing him to stay there until Scotland had moved on. Scotland leaving him in the forest had arguably started his friendship with the faeries.

"Is this really necessary?" he said when it became clear that his metallic and therefore, unchangeable physique had Arthur at a disadvantage when it came to keeping up with the behemoth. Alfred, thankfully, stopped and waited for him to close the gap between them. Admittedly, despite his snappish tendencies, he did appear to have been programmed with some sort of courtesy as he waited for Arthur to catch his breath before responding.

"America left you a gift, if you can find it," Alfred said, gesturing to the entire bloody forest. Arthur let his shoulders sag, and he stared incredulously at the apathetic robot. He wiped part of the accumulating sweat from his forehead. (He really wasn't wearing the right clothes for this, and there would likely be pit stains on his coat if he bothered checking. Still, he fixed the wrinkles and adjusted the collar on his suit.) Now would have been a good time for some little humanoid creature to whisper in his ear. Fortunately, England did have some hope that he could trick his current companion into revealing the location of the precious item. He opened his mouth, but Alfred cut him off.

"Before you ask, I have been instructed not to tell you where it is," America said, holding up his index finger for further emphasis. He supposed it was foolish to try wring out any secrets from a being designed to hold a lot of sensitive information, especially when he had failed miserably the first time.

"Of course," Arthur muttered, resulting in an unexpected pat on the back from Alfred.

" America gives you the opportunity to do as you wish. It is up to you to make something of it," he said, bright and cheery, and it became painfully obvious that this sickeningly sweet loyalty would continue to fray England's nerves. There probably wasn't any use arguing. He might get lucky, and Alfred had never specified if there was a time limit to this exercise either.

"Very well, see you soon," he said as Alfred enthusiastically nodded before taking off. Oddly, Arthur found himself fixated on Alfred as he jogged backwards, waving furiously in an over extended goodbye. The more cynical part of him wanted the cheery bastard to fall, but he wasn't terribly upset when Alfred simply wasn't in his line of vision anymore. He might have even smiled a little. The smile left quickly.

Arthur started walking the other direction to distance himself from Alfred. If he over thought the impulse, he might assume that he should follow Alfred who might have purposely gone the right direction to throw him off. Then again, he had yet to see any evidence that the machine was clever. Sure, it was a smartass with self entitlement issues, but this wasn't enough of a reason for Arthur to turn back. He wandered aimlessly which wasn't very hard considering the forest floor consisted of mulch and wood chips with the occasional rotten log or vine. After a while, he started to get the feeling that he was walking in circles. Considering it was an artificial forest in an area he wasn't familiar with; he likely was. Eventually, he came to a stream, a welcome sight. Splashing some water on his face to cool himself off, he contemplated crossing the river. There did seem to be more trees on the other side, and he had crossed multiple streams when he was no bigger than a bush. He headed upstream and looking for an area where the stream might narrow, yet the stream was strangely uniform. It dawned on him after a while that it was artificially made so he risked crossing at a calm area with little qualms. His fine shoes were soaked as was his bottom pant leg, but he pressed onward. As much as he loathed thinking it, he could buy more appropriate attire later.

The trees looked the same on the other side however so crossing the stream didn't have much of a point. He wandered some more, vaguely following some forgotten whisper. Arthur stopped for a moment, pondering if some of his past fancies had returned in the wake of his solitude. Something the doctors had pointed out triggered these fantasies in the first place. Upon stopping, the whispers faded into a dull buzz near his ear, and he nearly smacked his neck out of habit until he heard a blood chilling whisper.

"Stop." It couldn't be . . . and yet, it sounded familiar. Arthur's breathing noticeably slowed to a comfortable pace when the buzzing stopped and nothing else happened. Stupefied into inaction, he waited further instruction from some light, or some scantily clad fae. (Some part of his brain reminded him that was not the case. He promptly ignored it.)

Blast. They're starting to comeback. They can't- not again.

And so, he clumsily stepped forward and continued, noting the pink and orange hue of the sky visible from the tree tops.

It's getting late. Can Alfred even find me all the way out here?

Arthur didn't particularly like this ugly traitorous thought. For it implied, he needed the blasted machine like he needed a cell phone or Google. He didn't want to think of the thing as a necessity or even as a necessary evil. While it could be argued it was almost the entire reason he followed Alfred in the first place, he resented feeling the tiniest bit apprehensive of the growing darkness.

Whatever, he'll either find me anyway with some boneheaded luck or I'll make camp.

It's not like Alfred was the first to abandon him in the forest. Scotland had done so repeatedly, and this had the unintended consequence of making him competent in such unplanned situations. Arthur wasn't done looking though.

"Arthur?" he heard a brittle voice echo, making him uneasy. Apparently, he was tempting fate continuing in the dimming light. Not to mention that the last faeries he had seen were less than pleasant but he vaguely remembered that they were part of the Unseelie Court so it was entirely justified in that sense, (mischievous little things.) Arthur rubbed his forehead to postpone the headache that was developing. He was definitely being influenced by the quiet atmosphere. Anything seemed more plausible when there was no one there to call you crazy.

Forget what they told you, America. If you listen too much to how people think you should be, you'll start believing it and abandoning who you are has horrible consequences.

Right, America had taken the sharp decline in nationalism after the Watergate scandal very hard. Thinking back to that time seemed strange when America had recovered quickly from his depression, but it was never the same. Never same- England could never be the same could it? And yet, his situation was entirely different, and England wasn't even accounting for the obviously forced nature of the recovery.

Sure, they're never going to trust me again, but it's not a big deal.

Sure, maybe I'm starting to think the American dream has turned into a giant lie, but people will come anyway.

Sure, I've never experienced something like this before, but the planes . . . it . . . won't happen again right?

Sure, I can't afford some of the things I used to, but you will still visit me right?

Sure, I can't come to world meetings anymore, but I'll still help all of you.

In retrospect, it was really jarring. He really had to wonder when the lying started, on both sides. " Are you," the trembling voice managed to interrupt, and he flinched after its long absence. "Looking for" the creature continued after a slight pause. England perked up, maybe he would find this supposed "gift." He nodded although the thing wasn't visible.

"Someone?" the voice squeaked out after his confirmation. After a slight hesitation, he nodded once more, and just as quickly as he agreed with the thing, a paper fluttered into his hand.

Keep moving forward.

"Is this some sort of sick joke Alfred?" he shouted which only resulted in the faint rustling of forest creatures. He kept moving anyway, at this rate, preferring not to run into Alfred for he would surely strangle him.

"Left," the voice told him, and he listened absently. What did it matter anymore? Immediately, he noticed something different about this place. There was a neatly cut stone path, and lights strung about the trees to help him see. His pace quickened at these signs of a human presence. Could he . . . could he not be dead after all? A cabin soon came into his line of vision and he rushed forward. When he opened the door, he froze, unsure if Alfred had been waiting for him to catch up the whole time or if this was the surprise.

"Long time no see, Arthur" he greeted, giving him a hug that made him think the latter. Not that it added up with anything he had been told, but things rarely did these days.

"America?" England questioned softly. America's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. Oh Alfred again, why would he even greet him that way? They had seen each other less than a day ago. He scowled, but Alfred put his hands forward to quiet him.

"Let me explain, this is a recording from a disk that Alfred has inserted into himself upon my instruction. I have a set number of things to tell you as this is only one of many you will find, " he said, and some part of Arthur's face must have creased, maybe his lips had formed a frown, or maybe the wetness of his eyes had slipped from his tear duct because America immediately sat him down on one of the two rocking chairs. He sat in the other, seeming genuinely curious about his appearance.

"Don't look so down Arthur, just because I'm a program from a small disk doesn't mean I won't be good company," he said, offering him tea to prove his point. Arthur looked at the clock, four, what a coincidence. He took it.

"Then, tell me, what I need to know so I can be on my way," England said reasonably, or at least, he thought so. America shook his head, rocking back and forth with what also looked like genuine amusement. What kind of game was he playing, toying with him like this?

"How rude, you just arrived and expect the secrets of the universe? I'm afraid I won't make it so easy for you," he said, smirking as he drank his tea. Arthur hated that the things enjoyed and digested food like it was normal, blurring already fuzzing lines between fiction and reality. He supposed it was better for them to recharge this way than to rely on fossil fuels, but watching him passively drink tea was hard to watch for entirely different reasons.

"What do you expect from me?" England asked the American that thumbed the rim of the cup. He put his tea down and looked at him, lingering on his wet and wrinkled clothes.

"A lot more than you've shown me so far, but not to worry, you do not have to interrogate me all at once. You will be allowed to keep the disc for further use," he said, and Arthur did not like the insinuation that he would have to speak to this recording multiple times.

"Why did you send me on this wild goose chase?" England asked, causing America to roll his eyes.

"I expected you to snap out of your dictator phase eventually,"he said, completely ignoring the insinuation that the trip was pointless. The recording seemed to catch its error.

"I assure you the formula does exist. I am not here to trick you," America said, and England decided it was best to get the most obvious questions out of the way.

"Will you tell me where it is?" he said, and America shook his head. He figured, but perhaps, he had tips for dealing with the damn robot.

"Is the Alfred unit useful for anything other than throwing temper tantrums?"he asked, and America visibly soured.

"He is a human being in everything but name, deal with it," he said snappishly. The anger reminded him of what he really wanted to know.

" Why didn't you tell me you were dying?" he said, making America speechless. Perhaps, it was too much to expect for this machine to know the answer. America stared at the floor and sighed.

"It would have complicated things," he said vaguely, indicating he knew more than he let on. America finally reestablished eye contact as if nothing had happened.

"Please, be careful with Alfred. He is very naive. I couldn't bring myself to fix it, and I certainly don't want you to be the one to break him," America said, and he did not continue until Arthur nodded.

"Isn't that wrong? You're setting him up for failure," England reasoned as America guiltily turned to the window.

"I used to think I was such a special snowflake, and yes, it gave me a swelled head but, I lost many of my greatest strengths when I started falling apart," he said and instead of waiting for England to ask, he continued.

"Hope, optimism, and a genuine belief the world could learn to get along to name a few," he said, lingering on the area where his heart should be.

"I'll be honest. This is more of an introductory disk. I don't have very many important things to say, except," he trailed off, taking a deep breath and leaving the rocking chair.

"I don't completely hate you, but you know that. What you really need to hear if your going to make it is that I have faith in you and the best advice I can give you is to try and focus more on the journey than the destination okay?" he said, spilling out the words before pushing the button between his ribs and popping out the disk. England could not reply properly, leaving him feeling the tiniest bit empty.

I don't hate you either. He sank into the rocking chair as Alfred blinked back into existence.

"So, what was in the disk?" he asked, sitting in the opposite rocking chair. England contemplated what to tell him, and he settled for the easiest answer.

"Not much." Alfred didn't like that answer, not about The Original America.

"You probably didn't ask the right questions," Alfred replied off handedly. England sighed, silly idealistic robot, and yet he probably didn't. He pocketed the disk, because there was always tomorrow.