Remember 9/11:: Hetalia Fanfic

9/11

America sat in his regular spot at the conference table in his famous state of New York while the other countries bickered. He staid quite as he stared at nothing. Nothing buzzed through his head aside from the raging migraine he got from no where. The man beside him, whom was normally the quite one, stared at the normally boisterous nation. He wondered why none of the other countries questioned the strange behavior, or if they even noticed. So the Canadian leaned over and tapped on his older brother's shoulder.

Alfred snapped out of it, and glanced at Matthew. "Oh, hey. What's up?" He muttered, settling in his seat.

Matthew tilted his head, scooting closer. "Are you OK? You seem out of it." He whispered, which America was glad for. Any more noise, and he'd swear his head would burst.

Sighing, Alfred closed his eyes. "I dunno." He slurred drowsily, rubbing his temples. "My head is killing me, and I got this weird feeling in my gut. I only normally get that when I'm about to be atta-" He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, then groaned, hunching forward.

"Alfred?" Canada placed his gentle hand on his brother's back. "Alfred? Alfred!?" He started to panic and his voice rose when he brother only responded with heavy trembling.

The noise in the room died down and everyone glanced in their direction. England, noticing immediately that something was wrong, shot out of his seat and darted over. "Alfred?" He knelt beside the nation he raised, trying to at least catch a glimpse of his face.

Suddenly, America threw head head back and screamed, coming out gurgled towards the end, a thick, crimson liquid pouring into his mouth. England screeched in terror, tears leaping to his eyes seeing America's own dampening his cheek.

Alfred fell out of his chair, writhing in agony, blood trailing from his nose and gushing out of his mouth, staining his shirt. "OH GOD! THE TWINS!" He cried desperately.

Germany instantly reacted, turning on the television to the news.

"The south tower just collapsed! It's hard to breathe down here, and- Oh my god! The North Tower! The North Tower is collapsing!"

America's cries intensified, his family gathered around him, trying to comfort him. "Alfred, Alfred, listen to me, you're going to be OK!" England whimpered, gathering the younger nation in his arms. Feeling the warmth, Alfred clung to Arthur.

Everyone was silent as America's screams slowly died down to loud gasps and whimpers, watching the news for updates on the situation. "Ar... Arthur... It... It really... Really hurts..." He breathed out between heavy pants, his eyes squeezed shut.

Arthur rocked him back and forth and stroked his head, kissing his forehead. "I know. I know, love. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered against his sweat-dampened hair, Canada taking America's glasses and placing them on the table. France was on his hands and knees, cleaning up the blood from the floor, and occasionally wiping under Alfred's nose and lips when the liquid escaped.

"It tastes... nasty..." England smiled, tucking the sandy hair behind the younger man's ear. "Worse than... Than your food."

Matthew helped tug off the bomber jacket and unbutton Alfred's shirt as well as loosened his tie. "We'll brush your teeth when we get you home, dear." Arthur told him. "The taste will go away. I promise."

Alfred nodded. "M'kay." He mumbled. "Hey... Arthur?" Said man hummed in response. "I'm... Tired... Is it cool if I just... Sleep?" Alfred shifted, hugging the English man's waist.

England smiled, stroking the matted hair. "Of course. I'll be here when you wake." America mumbled under his breath a soft, 'promise?' "Yes, I promise. I won't leave your side. Mattie and Francis are going to make you some food while you sleep."

America smiled sleepily, his tensed body steadily relaxed. "'Kay... Imma sleep... Now..." He drawled out, being pulled into unconsciousness.

Once he knew Alfred was asleep, Arthur looked over to Germany, silently asking for an update on what was happening.

The German nodded, standing. "America is being attacked. From vhat it looks like, zhese planes were purposely flown into zhe towers. Zhe Trade center, or zhe twin towers, vere hit, and zhey tried hitting zhe Pentagon as well, but failed. America's economy is clearly severely damaged, and zhe military vas nearly zhe same." Germany announced. "Many people have died today, and zhe count is still going. Zhey're searching for survivers, but who ever did zhis, zhey vill pay for vhat zhey did."

~-The next day-~

Groaning, Alfred woke. A dull pain throbbed through his entire body. "What happened?" He grumbled, unable to get up.

"You were attacked." A soft reply came as hands pressed against his chest, keeping him down on the bed. "So, please... Don't move." Alfred opened his eyes, and looked at Arthur. Relief flooded those emerald orbs and a soft, but solumn smile settled on his lips. "Two days ago, during the conference, you were attacked. You scared everyone when you started screaming." The pale hands wrapped around one of the American's hand. "I thought you were never going to wake up."

Tears gathered in America's baby-blue eyes. "Oh..." His headache returned, not as terrible as before, as the screams of his people and the cracking of the crumbling buildings flooded his head. "How... How many...?"

Arthur ran his fingers through Alfred's hair. "How many people died? I don't know. It was estimated to be around ten thousand."

"Oh my god." The wounded nation breathed out, liquid streaking his cheeks. "Who..?"

Again, England answered with a soft, 'I don't know.' "But I do know your military is trying to figure it out. It was terribly clear you were attacked it was no accident. Several planes crashed into the buildings and one or two even tried to get to the Pentagon, but failed. People jumped out of the building trying to get out of the fire, people had come out burnt and injured or extremely shaken up, but there were survivors. The fire fighters found and saved those who lived through the collapses. Your people were very brave through it all, everyone tried to help, love. You must be incredibly proud of them."

Alfred managed a small, quivering smile. "Of course. I love my people. They're everything to me."

A knock sounded at the door, and both men glanced at the Canadian. Matthew smiled, Kumajiro by his leg and a tray of food in his hands. "Papa France and I made you some food like we promised. Pancakes with peanut butter and a bunch of maple syrup with strawberries and mini burgers on the side." He whispered, handing Arthur the tray.

"Thanks, bro." Alfred tried reaching out towards the tray, wincing, but his hand was pushed away.

Arthur shook his head. "You're too hurt to move. I'll feed you. Mattie, help me prop him up." After setting down the tray, the Brit and Canadian helped the American sit up. Once Matthew left, Arthur fed Alfred, although the younger man was grouchy about it.

It took years for America to be completely over it and his economy to bounce back, but he still commemorates 9/11 each September.